Author's note: This was written for 15minutes. I kind of liked how it turned out, and I liked writing about these two characters. I don't know why, but I loved their scene together, especially in the Trinity novelization. Anyway, reviews are loved.
Disclaimer: I don't own it, so no suing me. Got? Good.
Drake had never believed in karma, in fate. Destiny? You made your destiny or others made it for you. There were perhaps some things outside your control, but predestined? No. It was just the way things turned out. There was no mystical hand guiding anyone, there was no force to pull in you in a specific direction.
This little girl before him though, she believed in fate, karma, that mystical hand, that pulling force. She believed in God and Heaven, she believed in Satan and Hell. She believed in faeries and elves and gnomes and trolls and goblins and dwarves and angels and demons and vampires and werewolves. She believed in the mystical, the magical, the mythical.
And, he realized as he watched her, studied her, why shouldn't she? She had been surrounded by, raised among those that hunted it, she had seen things that all other children were told didn't exist. Things that other children believed were simply imaginary, little Zoë was forced into believing, into dealing with.
What fascinated Drake was that she still kept her innocence, still kept her sanity, still kept that strong will and defiant nature that was often found in children. But most other children were fragile things. He himself had proven that many times. Their tiny bodies were easy to break, and their minds easily warped.
But not hers.
She thought he was the gnome king. She thought he was the big, bad monster that would die and go to Hell, while she would go to Heaven whether she died now or died years later, because she was a good girl. She was a good girl. She was good, strong, innocent but stubborn. Fear clung to her like a perfume, but she kept herself calm, and she met his gaze evenly and without wavering.
Drake was fascinated by her. He found her puzzling almost, a riddle that somehow even stumped him for the time being. He had not come across anything like her in centuries, millennia really. He had almost felt rejection when she had refused his offer of immortality. He had never felt that before, so he could have been mistaken.
Still. He had felt something like a tiny sting, small, fleeting, but it had actually come about. It had actually been felt. Somehow, one, tiny, delicate girl had more strength than the adults she was with, and had more power and more mystery to her than any other Drake had come across.
Zoë was a riddle to him, and he realized that despite the brief sting he had felt at her refusal, he admired her more for it, and was puzzled more so by it. Her refusal proved she had the innocence and strength to her that drew him to her, and it kept him from taking away what fascinated him about her most.