Olivia Cahill hurried herself down the hallway, her footsteps hasty yet controlled. Purposeful. A good time was never promised when guests at the estate rang the bell with such fervor. Good time for the guest maybe, but Olivia doubted that the same could be said for the house staff. Still, impeccable service was what the subnaturals of the estate prided themselves on the most. And she wasn't going to be the one tarnishing that record.
The guard detail and plaque displaying "Hazel Baker" was noted with muted dismay. The girl they had a special briefing on. Hopefully by now she was calmed enough for Olivia to do her job properly. She stood patiently as the guards discussed their orders, straightening her blouse and not once missing the glances they took at her white streak. Those glances that were returned with a warm, professional smile. Once she was finally let in, Olivia took a breath and presented herself.
"Good evening, Miss Baker. I understand that you require some service?"
Hazel stared at the maid, taking in her admittedly odd appearance. It was a while since she had felt anything as strong as this, but she wanted, somehow, to gain those clothings herself. But more importantly, services? Was that why the chain was there? What sort of machine did they make to generate humans for the service of one pulling the chain. It was scary to think about what they could have made that she did not know about.
Glancing at the guards, she turned to maid before speaking. "Take me around this place."
Hazel had no desire to lounge about in one, admittedly rather amazing looking room, being confined to one place like that one drab hospital room with only the wilting flowers to accompany her. No, there must be something amazing like that piano in that place before.
Rather vague. But nothing the maid couldn't handle. She nodded before glancing at the guards for their input, "At once."
The Regulars returned the unpoken question by departing their station to accompany the subnaturals. No sign was made to unlock those extra cuffs on the girl or to let them out of sight. Just as mentioned in the briefing. She walked with a measured pace now, following the route she had practiced as she pointed out rooms they passed.
"The estate boasts a wide array of facilities to make your stay with us as hospitable as possible. The east wing we are currently moving towards houses the billiards room, gym, and baths which are accessible by the hallway. Across the main foyer is the music room and kitchens. You are free to prepare your own food but otherwise most of what we have to offer can be found in the dining hall on the first floor. You can also ask the kitchen staff for any special orders if you have a diet or allergy concerns. Do you have any questions so far?"
Hazel was only half listening to Olivia speaking, most of her attention locked onto the maid's outfit. There was a certain charm to it, a certain pull that drew her hands slowly towards her skirt.
"What is the billards room?" she asked, absentmindly.
Slowly her hands reached out, and pulled on the maid's skirt, lifting it in the process.
The maid's hands shot to her bottom, pushing the lifted fabric down with great force. What the actual fuck was she--
"The billiards room has the manor's billiard table," Olivia replied coolly, trying not to give the guards reason to further tighten their grips on their firearms, "though there are also sofas, a television and a wine rack if you merely wish to relax and enjoy some fine drinks."
Hazel still had no idea what a billiard was, just that it has a table for it. But this tour certainly wasn't what she wanted. Perhaps she needed to specify what she wanted?
"Take me to interesting places?" she asked.
Interesting places, with interesting things. Hazel had half a mind to try and grab the maid's clothings again, but decided to see if there was another thing that might take her attention first.
That was certainly an intriguing gauntlet the girl had thrown down. Olivia thought for a moment before replying, "You might find the greenhouse to be an educational experience, though the gallery has its fair share of interesting exhibits too. Which one shall I lead you to first?"
Both did not truly appeal to Hazel. A green house and a gallery of exhibits? She wasn't sure if a house that's green would warrant such descriptions as an experience, and she was an exhibit before, so she had an idea of what there would be in that gallery. Already her hands were drifting slowly towards the maid's skirt, filled with an indescribable desire to see the maid jump when she pulls her skirt again.
"Greenhouse first, please."
The greenhouse was a place Olivia visited regularly now that the weather was starting to chill. Whether it was the ambient warmth or her fellow staff picking newly ripened pumpkins and herbs, something about the place always seemed to mellow her spirits. As they walked through the vegetable section towards the dahlias, she elaborated on the goings-on of the greenhouse.
"Linda--she's in charge of gardening and maintenance--has been maintaining the patch for a few years now. We cultivate as much of our own produce as the season allows due to the isolated nature of the island. Closer to the entrance is the botanical area. It was one of the maids' hobby before it grew to its own section. My personal favourite are the camellias here."
It was certainly more than Hazel had ever imagined a green house would be. So the outside wasn't that green at all, but the inside was full of greens, and yellows and reds. Perhaps it should be named the green, red and yellow house instead? Hazel's hand once again grabbed the maid's skirt, not so much pulling as allowing it to guide her as she walked, gawking at all the unfamiliar plants around her. Somehow it felt different from simply seeing plants outside; perhaps it was the charm of having them inside a house?
Her free hand grabbed a red — and slightly green in places — bulb off a vine, charmed by its brilliant red coloring. It didn't exactly taste the way she thought it would once she bit into it however, being slightly sour with a crisp exterior and mushy insides. She took a few more bites before throwing it away.
"Camellias? Are they tasty?"
Olivia stared in silence as Hazel bit into the rose bulb. She had no idea what this girl's deal was but at least she wasn't attempting to upskirt her again.
"I've never tried them myself," she stated cautiously, "Though if it's...flowers that you want to eat, we have some cilantro and pansies in the corner over here. They make for lively plating and I'm fairly sure they taste...better than that rose bulb."
"I see. I remember now. These are flowers." Hazel recalled what Emma said. "These makes rooms look nice."
Colorful, enough to entice her to put another one in her mouth, if not for her remembering these didn't usually taste nice. But, her interest was ebbing now that she recalled what they were, and her attention was turning once again to the maid. Perhaps if she voiced her interest, she would be given them?
"I am interested in you."
She looked at the maid for quite a bit, before realizing that may be too vague.
"May I have clothes, like yours?" Hazel paused again before adding "Please?"
Olivia had to bite back a scalding 'yeah, no shit' at the sudden declaration of interest but blinked in confusion at Hazel's request. So she wasn't a pervert. She was just a strange gal. Geez, the kids from the years before never acted like this.
Outwardly, however, the maid betrayed nothing.
"May I ask why you want them, Miss Baker?" she prodded gently.
Hazel tilted her head slightly at that. Why did she want them? Was she attracted to their outfit? In all respects, it did not have any tactical advantages she could see. In fact, it was similar to what she was wearing, in function if not in design. Could the lack of a collar or pills addling her mind without all the extraneus thoughts suppressed? Was it the stress of holding back her stigma, which admittedly wasn't coming on strong at the moment?
"I do not know." She admitted, a puzzled look apparent on her face. "I find it rather alluring."
The maid considered the request. It was her job to make sure that the manor's guests were pleased. There were plenty of spare uniforms in the staff's quarters. No one was going to mistake her as an actual maid with that X mark. And hopefully the guards would keep the girl away from any trouble she could create because of the outfit, not that they had done a very good job during the tour.
It was a rather lovely ensemble. She couldn't blame the girl for wanting to procure one.
"I suppose," Olivia sighed in subtle dismay, "I don't see any reasons why you can't have a uniform. Follow me, please."
The party was led to the servants' wing, where they were then asked to wait patiently. After a few minutes, she returned with a neatly pressed black dress adorned with ruffled lace. The outfit was offered to Hazel with both hands.
Hazel reached out towards the outfit, hesitating for a moment, before accepting it. There was an odd warm feeling welling up within her bosom, unfamiliar enough to make herself worry about sickness, but that worry was pushed away by the thought that she had actually procured something she took a fancy to.
"Thank you, for the clothing." She gave a small bow before continuing. "Then, I will be sure to try them on immediately."
With practiced precision, her skirt fell to the ground with a simple pull of the zip. Unbuttoning the top buttons on her blouse, she started to wriggle out of it as well.
Olivia spun immediately, eyes widened in disbelief as she faced the opposite end of the hall. What the...why...WHY?
A pair of butlers were chatting and walking down the hallway, though their steps slowed as the unfamiliar guards and even more unfamiliar nudist blocked the path. Olivia mouthed a frantic 'go around' and motioned them away. They didn't hesitate to oblige.
The guards merely pointed their gaze to above the Aberration's head. After D.C., they had learned to expect this.
Struggling out of her clothes, and into the black dress, she gazed upon herself with awe, admiring the dress upon her body. With a slight spin, she sent the skirt flaring, feeling a little satisfied at the way the skirt swished around. Though, she can't help but still be interested in the maid; the maid was wearing the same outfit after all.
Once again, her hands reached out and grabbed the maid's skirt, pulling it up before Hazel even realized what she was doing.
And once again, Olivia's own hands shot down to flatten her dress, though a horrified screech managed to escape her lips this time. She whirled back around, exclaiming a furious, "WHY?!"
The corners of Hazel's mouth twitched slightly. She didn't know why, but this was definitely interesting in its own right. But, she had gotten what she wanted, and learned about about the place she was in to boot. Perhaps she could call on the maid later if she needed anything else. That chain was still there after all.
"Thank you for helping me."
With that, she gave a small bow towards the maid. There was no answer for Olivia's question because there was no reason, just an odd impulse to do it. Her expression seemed more relaxed, her usual stoic countenance seemingly softer, as she turned to take her leave.
The maid stared after her, dumbfounded.
"The...pleasure is mine," she muttered. It was more out of reflex than honesty at this point.
Emma’s chest felt tight as she approached Marcus’s door. It was the nerves, she decided. She knew that she couldn’t keep pretending that he wasn’t there. She had to say something sooner or later. Sooner was better, she decided. After all, he killed someone for her. It couldn’t be easy, she knew. Not to mention he was her… boyfriend? After a couple of weeks?
You’ve always been so goddamn needy, Em.
The words still hurt, but that was because they were true. But she pushed the memory away, raising her hand to knock. After a moment of hesitation, she did.
Hey Max, just letting you know that I made it out of DC in once piece, although you probably already knew that. There were a lot of fighters that went down over the city, so just let me know that you guys are okay!
Marcus stared at that message on the screen of his phone, heart clenching in fear. It had taken him so many tries to get that message to send, that when it finally had it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Now, that weight was back on - it had been hours, and he'd heard no response.
Of course it was crazy to think that there was any reason to it other than the problems he'd just had. Signal here was terrible - that must've been the reason he wasn't getting anything back from her. Or maybe the squad was out doing training after the threat of a full-scale attack. Or maybe they were on cleanup duty. Or maybe...
The thoughts raced around in his brain, like frightened cats. The knock on his door nearly spooked him out of his worrying, and he sat up in bed, simply looking at the door for a moment. He hadn't rung for any staff - which meant that whoever was out there was waiting specifically for him. He didn't want to answer, and he contemplated just lying in the bed until whoever it was gave up and went away.
It didn't take long for that thought to become another endless train of beating himself up for cowardice, and he rose to feet - if only to prove to himself that he would. And when he opened the door, he saw a face that threw all his emotions into disarray, simply because he wasn't sure how to feel about her seeking him out.
"O-oh! Hey Emma. What's up?" he said, as nonchalantly as he could force.
”Hey.” Emma said, weariness clear in her voice. It’d been too long since she had gotten anything resembling a good night’s sleep. ”Can we… uhhh, can I come in? I want to…” Emma picked her words carefully, ”I think we should talk.”
"Oh. Uh...yeah. Sure; come on in." Marcus said, Emma's words tightening the knot that was already in his chest. 'We need to talk.' was up there on everyone's list of phrases they never wanted to hear, because nothing good ever came from talking. Chatting, conversing, even discussing were all good, or at the very least, productive things. Talking was bad. He didn't care for talking.
He opened the door the whole way, stepping aside to allow Emma entrance into his temporary quarters.
Emma gave a small nod, stepping inside. She was well aware how this must look to Marcus, how she must’ve looked. She was conscious of the dark bags sagging underneath her eyes, but they seemed to be a more and more common occurrence since she’d come to USARILN. Emma was about to take a seat on the bed, but instead hovered awkwardly, instead picking a spot to stand. ”So… from a penthouse to a mansion, huh?” she said with a clearly nervous laugh. Maybe forced small talk would make this easier.
"Hells yeah!" Marcus said with labored enthusiasm, crossing his arms and taking up a leaning position where he was by the door. "At this rate, I expect our personal cruise liner to be coming within the month!" He was doing a similar thing as Emma, albeit without knowing. If a conversation started off so casually, it couldn't possibly get worse, right?
”Yeah…” Emma let out a small sigh. Talking about nothing, pretending nothing had happened… it was an oddly familiar situation. It looked like Marcus was just as good at faking it as she was. She couldn’t let it keep going. ”I… I’m sorry. I never thanked you for... well, y’know. All that stuff in DC. It couldn’t have been easy…” Emma left the words hanging, the implied meaning was enough.
Right to the punch. Of course they couldn't sit here in a mindless chatter loop forever - eventually they had to get down to the heart of it. And what was he supposed to say to a statement like that? It had been very easy for him to do, especially in the moment. It had been easy, and apparently he had a clear conscious about it! He'd killed a man, and justifying his actions had never been easier.
'No worries Emma! Apparently I'm a ruthless murdering psychopath! It was easy as pie!'
"Yeah...well...there's no reason to thank me. I was just.." Marcus's thought stopped abruptly there, an unfinished sentence.
'Doing my job? Helping my team? Doing what I thought was right at the expense of a human being's life?'
”Yeah… but…”
But what?
”He might’ve killed me. So… thanks.” Emma let out a small huff, wringing her hands together. ”But that’s… not it. I also… I want you to know that I don’t want you to be putting yourself at risk for me… alright?” she said hesitantly, a weak smile on her face.
He would have killed you. Definitely.
The ugly thought coursed through his mind as soon as Emma spoke, only registering as a faint flicker of the eyes. Some imperceptible emotion, like the barely contained traces of anger that had flickered long after the deed was done. There was an awkward confusion in his mind as some measure of irritation found root in Emma...but why? She hadn't done anything.
In fact...it didn't seem like she ever did anything.
As quickly as that thought came, Marcus forcibly pushed it out. His inner self was critical of nearly everything, but he absolutely hated the loathing and absolute dickery that seemed to spout from that part of him.
None of those thoughts made purchase in his outward appearance, however. He could handle conversation as long as he wasn't actively shooting flame at the people around him.
"Hey. Like I said; there's no reason to thank me. Our entire lives revolve around putting ourselves at risk now. It's way easier to do it for someone I care about rather than some random regular."
”I…”
That’s not what I meant.
A soft gulp. Emma’s hands dropped to her side, clenching and unclenching together. ”I mean it. I…”
How the hell am I supposed to just say what I’m thinking?
”I’m sorry, Marcus. I think…” Emma’s face scrunched up, a sign of discomfort or perhaps disgust, ”I’m not sure if I can keep this up. I think I’m starting to go crazy. Like, really. I’m not sure that… I’m not sure that I’m worth saving. I’m either going to die or I’m going to break. Soon. Really soon. I’m not worth any of the effort you’re putting into me.” the words were whisper quiet, a subtle shake setting into Emma’s voice. She wished that he didn’t have to hear it. How weak she was, how close she was to just giving up. But… she couldn’t hold it back. Not anymore. And he was the only one there that she could give it to.
She felt bad for Marcus. He deserved better than having to listen to this.
Reassuring arms, though spindly and cushioned by hoodie sleeves, wrapped around Emma. Marcus; attempting to give as many good vibes as he could at one moment. Though she probably couldn't see it, his eyes were lost in the distance as he hugged her, as if he were in his own little world and not giving his full attention to her. His own voice spoke with equal volume.
"Don't. I don't know what brought you this low, but do not." It was a command, rather than the soft statement that was probably expected.
"I think you're worth the effort. Which, frankly, is the only thing required for you to be saved."
”It’s not that easy. You should… I don’t deserve to be comforted by you. I don’t…”
I don’t want you to like me.
”I’m such a piece of shit. I… I’m so unlike the person I act like I am. I’m so useless. I couldn’t do anything at CC1, I almost got Callan killed, I failed to do anything at Wisford, Savannah died because I couldn’t act, I wasn’t able to save anyone at DC. Not Lily, not the regulars, I fucking shut down in the middle of a disaster. I just let the guy beat the shit out of me, and you had to…”
She realized, in that moment, that she was trying to give him every reason he could to hate her. But just how far would she go?
"Emma. Listen. Unless you can dissolve hands, I doubt you almost got Callan killed. I..." Marcus paused here for a moment, unsure of the words he wanted to use. "Savannah wasn't your fault. DC was just a mess all around."
Although he tried to sound convincing, it was clear that Marcus was struggling to justify everything. Emma was basically repeating the same thought he'd just had, so how could he sit here and deny it when they were literally thinking the same thing? It sounded mean, and it was, and he was trying to fix it. But it was hard to change someone's mind, and harder to change his own.
Emma pulled away. ”Fault doesn’t matter, what matters is that if I had acted differently Savannah would still be alive. But fuck it, that’s not the worst of it… no, not by a long shot. I’ve… I’ve done so much, how the fuck can I just stand here and act like I’m a nice person? I put all the blame for her death on Ernie. I told him that he should’ve died. Who the fuck does that? I’m so shitty, and… and I feel so bad, I feel sick inside because no one can see it. Because you can’t see it. A-and, I just use the fucking stigma as a shitty excuse for the way I act, but… but that’s not it…” she didn’t realize it, but she was getting louder and louder.
Marcus took a step back as Emma pulled away and let out a soft sigh, looking down in contemplation as Emma's voice rose in volume. Maybe she wasn't a good person. Maybe she was just another bully - the kind of person that Marcus used to be unable to stand. Maybe...he had no justification for her. If she was so determined to prove that she was a bad person, why was he so equally determined to prove that she wasn't?
"It was a high pressure situation - I don't know if you were just stressed and lashing out or not, I wasn't there. Even if you weren't, so what? You do shitty things. You've also done a lot of non-shitty things. Just because you have moments where you..." Another pause. Another hesitation as he tried to find words.
"I've learned to look past a lot of shit recently...and I'm not going to let you go just because you think all that makes you irredeemable."
”Why?”
Emma wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. Was it her talking? Was the stigma talking for her? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop now, she’d gone too far, it was all just tumbling out now. ”Why would you try for someone you barely know? Why can’t you just let me go? I… I’ve let myself go. Plenty of other people have. Hell, my own parents have! W-why can’t you just give up on me, just like everyone else!” she sounded mad. Was she? She wasn’t sure. Most of all she was embarrassed, disgusted with herself. Everything was unzipping, and for once it seemed like she couldn’t stop herself.
Marcus looked to the ground for a moment. He knew the words he wanted to say, he just...didn't want to say them. Saying these kind of things meant remembering things he'd rather forget - things he'd desperately tried to forget, but never could.
"Because..." he paused, the words difficult to force out. "Because I have lost too much. I have lost too many of the things I took for granted; the little things I always assumed would be there no matter what happened."
He looked up from the ground, his eyes showing a mixture of pain and resolute determination. "Because I absolutely will not lose anything I have any possibility of keeping in my life."
There it was. The root of the problem, the ugly rotting core of the issue. All she could do was whine and cry and hurt the people around her. She didn’t deserve to be happy, she was well aware, no one should have to listen to her ‘problems’. She’d gone too far, said too much, why the hell did she get anywhere near Marcus?
All she could do was hurt him.
”Sorry.” Emma muttered.
”I’m sorry.” she said again, barely louder than the first time.
”You shouldn’t get too invested in the people here… when they die it’s going to destroy you.” she had still hung onto Lawrence’s words after all. She had hated him for it when he said it, but now here she was passing on the same bitter advice he did.
"That's fine." Marcus said, the tone of his voice matching the cool tenacity that shown through his eyes.
"If it hurts like hell, I know I'm still alive."
He sighed again, daring to give a small grin at the floor. "There's no reason to apologize for it, either. But, I guess I'll take a free one."
Emma forced half a smile. She almost wanted to keep going, but she finally managed to stop.
”I was half hoping I’d scare you off by now.” she said lightly. A joke with a hint of truth.
"Marcus Howell. Fearless protector of all things good and cherishable." he said, the humor slightly bogged down by the exhaustion and uncertainly that lay over top of it.
"You gonna be alright, Em?"
She couldn’t find it in her to lie. Not now. ”No.” she let out a small sigh, ”But I’m not… I’m not going to do anything crazy, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m… used to this.”
That's a real shitty thing to have to get used to.
"Well hey...just remember that you don't have to try and get through it all yourself. Friendly face and a listening ear go a long way when you're dealing with that kind of stuff."
”Yeah.” Emma said, a muted agreement with both statements. ”There is… one thing. Yesterday Determination… when I summoned him, he spoke.” now Emma’s tone shifted to one of worry, but more normal than before.
There was a stunned silence as Marcus processed what Emma had just said.
"He...talked? Like a person?"
”Well, not exactly like a person, but yeah… he…” Emma looked down at the ground, feet tapping rhythmically, ”He said that he ‘didn’t want to die’.”
"That's...horrible." Marcus said, his face unable to contain the unease that the whole situation brought to the forefront of his mind. "I...I assume he didn't exactly elaborate on that, did he?"
There was a sort of morbid curiosity to the question, and that was indeed growing in Marcus's head. If the tulpas could talk, or at least Determination could...that would make them one of the first ever DC creations to ever communicate, even if it was through the proxy of a subnatural.
”No. I… unsummoned him and haven’t brought him back since.”
"Thaaaat's probably for the best."
”I mean, I’m going to have to do it eventually. He’s, like, 70% of my power.”
"True." There was a moment of pondering in Marcus's head, a question that seemed to float in the air like a fog. He wasn't fond of the tulpas, he'd made that much very clear before. There was something about them that just put him on edge immediately, and he could never place it. But if the situation made Emma uncomfortable...and he was there to at least help put her at ease even the slightest...
He had just said that some problems were better with another person around.
"Do...do you want to summon him now? See if the both of us can figure out this little...thing?"
”Well… I mean, if you’re up for it, we can try.” Emma sighed. ”Although… no, I shouldn’t try to talk myself out of it. If you’re ready, I guess I am.” Emma didn’t wait for confirmation, instead summoning him quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.
Determination rose before the pair. His mouth was now fully formed, no longer appearing as if it was bound together. While before he seemed to be an unmoving statue until given orders, now he was looking around. Finally, his gaze settled on…
”Emma.” he said the words slowly, sounding them out for the first time like a child still learning how to speak. ”Don’t send me back. P…please.”
Emma offered no response, face instead filled with questions, looking towards Marcus for answers.
Oh sweet Jesus. He was talking.
Marcus looked back towards Emma, his face indicating that he had literally zero answers, before looking back to the horrifying abomination that had spawned before them. He talked. A DC proxy was talking to him. There would be scientists that would kill people to experience something like this, and Marcus was just stood speechless - unsure of how to proceed.
"A-are...are you okay?" he finally decided on. A good catch-all question for a terrifying experience such as this.
”Yes. No… I do not know,” with everyone word it seemed that Determination was speaking faster, more like a normal person, ”As long as you don’t send me back.” he said, eying Emma. She was quick to ask for clarification, ”What do you mean? Back where?”
”Whenever… whenever I’m not here, I’m nowhere. I do not exist. It is… not good…” it seemed like he struggled to find the words to explain.
"But...if you're nowhere...if you don't exist...you shouldn't feel anything, right? It should just be like sleeping, shouldn't it?" Marcus followed, his mind struggling to come to terms with what the creature was saying. Was it even just a 'creature' at this point? It could think. It could articulate those thoughts...it was disturbingly close to human, and Marcus wasn't sure how to feel about it.
”No… that’s… not right…” Determination, if you can apply emotion to him, looked like he was concentrating, trying to figure out what to say. ”I can’t explain it.” Emma, for her part, looked befuddled. ”I’m… sorry.”
”Just don’t make me go back. Don’t let me die. Please.”
"I mean...she can't just...keep you summoned forever?" Marcus said, the statement more like a question as he turned his head to look at her and hiss "...can you?"
”I…” Emma sighed, ”Yes and no. There’s no hard limit, but there are… factors.” If Determination had eyes, they’d be pleading, ”Please. As much as you can.”
Honestly, this was kind of sad as much as it was frightening to experience. Like a small child being told the realities of death at too young an age, but with the added benefit of the child being a monstrous shadow beast birthed from the mind of a creature who 'accidentally' genocided a fair amount of the earth.
"How much do you...feel? When you're...'here'? And how much do you remember about your previous incarnations?" Marcus asked hesitantly. The plan that was slowly forming in his mind was not a good one, but it was the only one he was coming up with right now besides 'Forever Roommate'.
”I remember it all. I felt it all.”
A look of horror filled Emma’s face. ”I’m… I’m so sorry.” Determination shook his head. ”I understand why you… why you did what you did. I’ll keep fighting for you, because if you died I would to, but…” Determination looked towards the ground.
Emma was starting to understand the absurdity of their situation. But she nodded, ”I understand.” she said, throwing a questioning glance towards Marcus.
Marcus had no answers. Literally none. His face showed as much when she looked over towards him. Perhaps one more question. One more to help him put together some sort of cohesive plan.
"Do you...feel emotions? Like, if Emma told you to hang out in the corner, would you get lonely?" he asked, his voice growing more and more unsure with every inquiry he posed.
”I don’t know. I think I do.”
This was a sticky situation. Literally the worst thing he'd yet to encounter in this hellhole, and it left him completely dumbfounded as to what to try and do about it.
"I...I dunno Em." Marcus whispered, his eyes not leaving the spots where Determination's would be. "This is your call..."
”I’ll…” Emma thought for a moment before deciding, ”I’ll do it. If it hurts that much, I’ll try to keep you from… going back there.” Emma glanced towards Marcus, ”I… can’t promise you won’t, but I’ll try.” Determination nodded. ”Okay.”
At 5:00am, on the dot, a quickfire series of texts lit up Angelique's phone.
5am
Dont see you at the gym
Where are you
Angélique had been up all night, thanks to having slept throughout the whole trip to North Carolina and a bit more to compensate for her lack of sleep. She had considered joining Brent and Ernest at their usual training session, but she had ultimately decided to not come, thinking it was too soon to interact with her classmates. After what happened in Washington, she needed time to think upon everything that she had done, look toward the kind of future she really wanted to have.
And so, when she saw her phone lighting up to life from receiving new messages from Ernie, she looked at them but did not answer back.
Hey
Are
You
Still
Asleep
Or
Some
Thing
Again, a barrage of rapid-fire notifications rang loudly from Angel’s phone. No doubt, it was Ernie again for sure. She really didn’t want to go to the gym right now, not with the mindset of hers. Not with her inability to look at any of her classmates into the eyes without feeling guilt.
Determined to skip today’s training session, the Voice Mage pressed the power button on her phone, prompting it to shut down. Setting her phone aside on a night table, Angel let herself fall into the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Approximately five minutes later, a crack rang from the suite's door, followed by another one. Then it seemed Ernie gave up on throwing things at the entrance and decided wisely to pound loudly on the doorframe instead.
"Angelique's room, right?" his voice shouted, muffled slightly by the separation.
The tired Aberration rose up from her bed, sighing as she heard Ernest’ voice calling out from the other side of the door. God, he was persistent as hell, wasn’t he? There was no way she could slip away from this morning’s training session now that he was standing there. The creaking wood signaled her slow footsteps heading towards the door’s room, opening slowly as her half-naked form draped in bed sheets popped partially out from the door’s frame and naked forest-green eyes shot down towards Ernie.
“Just… hang on. I’ll go change myself…”
Her voice was surprisingly unconvincing, but she eventually came out of her room in workout attire, which was simply made of a cropped tank top, leggings and her hair tied in a tail.
The boy was barely affected by Angelique's initial lack of clothing, his narrowed eyes looking as if they were searching for something in her head rather than on her body. His stiffened posture and hand tightly clenched around the phone he'd thrown repeatedly at her door made it clear that something was different. But he obviously wasn't going to say what.
"Cool. Let's go," he turned, not bothering to check if Angelique was following.
There was something that made Angel immediately regret her decision. Was it actually from Ernest's passive aggressiveness, or because she was second-doubting her ability to talk to the others right now? Something seemed different in her friend. Did he got up from the wrong foot this morning, or was it because he was unpleased to have to come and get her? Either way, Angélique hoped Brent would simply keep himself occupied with Ernie by giving him more workout tips and training while Angel was doing her things from her own side of the gym.
The facilities available were decent enough, Brent supposed. Benches, dumbbell sets, bike machines, and treadmills consumed most of the space, while black exercise mats were laid side by side in one corner, a ‘how-to’ poster detailing various stretching techniques. Compared to the almost excessive amount of high-tech machines within USARILN East and the Hyatt Regency, it was lacking, but on the other hand, Brent had made do with nothing at all within La Plata.
It was a balance, really, something that was massively lacking from anything else in the last couple of days. Neither excessively good nor horrendously bad.
Really, he was sick of that bipolar bullshit. The arbiter bench pressed his own weight again, grunting as the metal bar laid centimeters over his chest before he pushed it back up slowly, relishing the tremors of his limbs. Consistency, that’s what he wanted.
Chaos, that’s what he got. Every. Single. Time.
A long breath heaved out as the barbell clanked against the restraints, before he rose up, rolling his shoulders. Amethyst eyes catching new arrivals within, the arbiter reflexively smiled at the familiar faces. "Morning," he said, "there's coffee in the corner, Ernie."
"Gross," Ernie replied though the boy moved to the corner anyway, mixing an alarming amount of cream and sugar into his caffeine.
Without saying a word, Angélique nodded to Brent before making her way to the dumbbells that were sitting in the corner of a room. She lost no time starting on her muscle training. Despite lacking enthusiasm, she wasn't here for half-assing her training though. She'd just do the exercises Brent had showed her back in Washington and La Plata on her own, hoping Ernie would be coached closely by Brent enough to leave her alone in her corner.
"You're both late today," the arbiter remarked, stretching his shoulder blades, "No sleep?"
"Yeah... slept enough on the way here yesterday. Was actually trying to just now." the raven-haired Aberration answered in-between two sets.
"Forgetting your workout pals so easily? That's rude," Ernie called from his corner, not even turning to face her, "I slept on the truck yesterday too. Kinda surprised you could, Banshee, after all the nonsense at D.C."
Angélique stopped suddenly, her eyes widening at the mention of Banshee. What the fuck? Did her voice really reach that far away? She wasn’t aware her power could extend to such distance, unless…
The cuffs. Someone had left their channel open, and it broadcasted to everyone else. Who could it have been? Emma? She was the only one she actually heard her voice coming from the cuffs back there from her team. Did she purposefully let her communication channel open, or was it only an accident?
Holy shit, just how much did everyone hear from this whole disaster? Worse, what did everyone actually think of her now that she said all these things? Now that explains why the atmosphere is so tense this morning, and Ernest’s behavior.
Angélique now felt cornered. Could it be that they wanted her out here to explain herself? “I… fainted from exhaustion. Apparently not even Christmas managed to heal that…”
It was a pitiful explanation. One that she didn’t wish elaborating on.
"Mmm, must be tiring," Brent said, pulling a few dumbbells from the rack, "Lots of screams needed for evacuation, eh?"
Shadow-boxing now, with weights attached. It was hard to get into kickboxing without a punching bag.
"That tiring? Are we sure about that?"
Ernie spoke nonchalantly, sitting on the machines but not quite starting his reps yet.
"Back at Wisford, I watched Christmas mist-heal a whole mob of people dying of broken bones and blood loss. I wouldn't expect his power to suddenly fall short when it came to his own classmates."
It suddenly felt overwhelming. From being cornered to assaulted on two sides by people she thought were her friends, she couldn’t bear it. Flashes inside her mind of that moment she was physically cornered by a few fans. Never again. If defiance was the way to protect oneself from danger, then she’d gladly seize them by the throats if it meant stop pushing her around.
“That’s enough!”
The bells dropped heavily on the ground as Angélique turned around to face her duo of aggressors, her tired expression quickly turning into one of anger. Her dull green eyes quickly flared to their bright emerald green hue, reflecting the growing inferno in her mind.
“You got something to say to me? Then fucking say it directly to my face instead of playing passive aggressive like fucking middle-school gossip girls!”
"Direct?" Ernie was grinning ear-to-ear now. The same smile from the alley with Christmas. The same from the house with David and Zoe. "You want 'direct'? Alright! Did you enjoy yourself at least, pounding all those Regs into the ground with your magic? How many did you kill before you even considered that it was a bad idea?"
As Ernie smiled, Brent's own disappeared, the intensity of his eyes burning a hole in the ground now that there was no buffer, no filter to interpret it from. "I," he began continuing on with his own reps, "didn't see what was going on at all. Hell, the news is somehow making you out as a big hero and all. But Angelic..."
There was a sudden urge to toss the barbell into a window, but such a violent, irrational outburst was easily restrained.
"...thought you didn't want to be a Banshee. Was I wrong?"
Was she that weak?
"Are you taking the path of least resistance after all?"
“What the fuck? I didn’t ki-“
Everything suddenly made sense. Ernest was sufficiently close to hear what she screamed, but probably haven’t seen the whole thing happening until after they were gone. Angélique could imagine someone arriving at the scene would’ve thought these people died of shattered eardrums from her own sonic screams. So that meant she was still seen as a monster after all, if only by her own teammates instead of the Regulars.
Their expression made her sick. The usual calm but smiling Brent now frowning at her, and then Ernie’s twisted grin at this whole scene. They truly sickened her. Even if she didn’t kill anyone directly, it was her responsibility to take from having provoked these people, the results ending up in a carnage in conjunction with her other teammates.
But if that was the way those two would treat the others should she slip and mention the others were as responsible as her, then she would rather take all the blame and save the others from this scene. All that remained was to sacrifice her friendship with those she thought were her closest friends…
Angélique’s burning wrath seemed to die down, replaced by a grim sense of cold determination. Her piercing eyes glared in Ernie’s direction. “After Marcus nearly got his face shattered by a brick, I decided I would rather sacrifice the insignificant lives of a few dozen Regulars if it means protecting what few prodigies we have in our classes. I’d rather see the whole fucking world die before someone from our class dies in front of me again.”
Then Angel shifted her gaze to Brent. “If becoming a monster is what it takes to make sure my classmates survive, then I’m willing to walk that path. If nobody wants to protect themselves from the fucking injustice this world put us through, then I’ll take the fall and be the one to pull that fucking trigger.”
Protecting them? He couldn't fucking take this.
Ernie shot up form his machine. One rough hand grabbed her shoulder while she was looking at Brent while the other threw a punch towards her jaw with all of the boy's might.
Danger… assaulted…again…
As soon as Ernie’s hand made contact with Angel’s shoulder, she jerked around quickly enough to see that fist being raised towards her face. With the reflexes of only someone that had been trained to protect herself, Angélique threw her arm up to catch Ernest’s, placing one of her leg directly behind him with the intent to sweep his leg and use the counterbalance to throw him down to the ground.
The rope was summoned instantly. The impact of the floor did nothing and Ernie followed his fall with a kick aimed at her knee. Meanwhile, his hand grasped around for the dumbbell Angel had dropped.
Being this close to Ernie didn't leave Angel the freedom of movement to effectively see nor dodge that kick. When it connected to her knee, Angel could feel herself buck down on the other knee. But her combat reflexes and her unwillingness to actually use violence against a classmate made her jerk back away from him. When she saw him reaching for the weight, she thought he had lost it in the wake of his Stigma.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Ernest? Snap out of it!" her voice boomed all around Ernest's ears.
Before he could actually get back up, Angel scurried to the other end of the room, far away from both Ernie and Brent. Was it their plan for this morning all along? Assaulting a fellow classmate? Images of the past flooded her brain, invading her senses. She was going to get molested again, wasn't she? Not this time. She'll die before they even touch a single fucking strand of her jet-black hair.
Hazel eyes mocked the girl as Ernie stood to his full height. That was rather reckless. But he couldn't say he felt sorry for letting it out. The smile only taunted further before he sighed and willed his hand to drop the dumbbell back on its rack. If Brent wasn't still here would he have gone further?
"There's nothing to snap out of, Banshee. It's fine. Nice moves though, how come you didn't use those instead of bursting dozens of Reg eardrums?"
"Do you even fucking listen when we talk to you? Do you even expect someone to protect themselves with martial arts when you have at least fifty fucking individuals throwing bricks and stones at you?" Angel snapped back, slowly rising to her feet, the dull pain in her knee slowly subsiding.
" 'Protecting' again! They're Regulars, Angel, what the fuck did you need protection from? Did Marcus' rewinds not work? Did Determination just trounce off somewhere? Grant's chains couldn't toss up another wall? This team took on rogue mages and a robot beast invasion. Do you seriously expect me to believe that a couple of pebbles was what finally snapped an entire team of subs?"
He refused it. The chance that the evac team didn't just slaughter dozens not just because they were monsters, but because they were weak.
" 'Sacrifice insignificant lives'. 'Prodigies', my FUCKING ASS. Don't bullshit me like that. It's a fucking wonder Zhang hasn't heard how stupid this all is and sent a firing squad for it."
I would rather sacrifice the insignificant lives of a few dozen Regulars if it means protecting what few prodigies we have in our classes.
I’d rather see the whole fucking world die before someone from our class dies in front of me again.
If becoming a monster is what it takes to make sure my classmates survive, then I’m willing to walk that path.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god.
Blood rushed through his veins, heart pounding a war beat as his thoughts discarded themselves, twisting and degenerating into a messy ball of emotions that he could hardly process, hardly digest. It was sickening, more so than Emma's madness, more so than Callan's mistakes, more so than his own ineptitudes. Even as Ernie and Angelic began brawling, their respective abilities absolutely worthless when pit against one another, Brent remained still, sheer force of will keeping him from acting before he did anything rash, anything uncalled for.
Zoe made sense. She struggled with her stigma constantly, the implications of her rotting power both great and horrible. She would be willing to fight the world to keep those close to her safe, but she would also be willing to fight herself to do so. And even then, she never fully drowned in the depths of her violent instincts. Never indulged.
But what was Angelic then? What was the person who a week ago cried over her status of the 'Banshee' of Montreal', and, a day ago, fully embraced such an identity? What was this person, who hadn't even held her power for a whole season, and yet no longer saw herself as 'human'?
Was it that hard, to retain one's humanity?
"Ernie, Angelic," Brent said, looking at both and neither. "Stop. Sit"
He envisioned it. Steel bars twisting around Angelic's throat until her head popped. A ton of weights welded together, crushing Ernie into the ground until his magic disappeared and everything broke. He envisioned it, and let it go.
"No theatrics. No exaggerations. No emotion. Angelic, I did not see what happened. I only heard. Lead me through the events that carried evac team from being attacked by a mob of regulars to evacuating them."
He had already read those first-person reports that the 'people in charge' had dismissed as 'lies and slander'.
"No bullshit. Please."
”Fuck you, Ernest” was the only thing Angélique answered back to Ernie, her voice half-convincing. He didn’t believed her words. Neither did she. The raven-haired Aberration was nearing the end of her rope. She didn’t know what else to say to convince those two that she was the sole culprit in this tragedy. She was accepting their hate, just as she had started accepting hers. But the more this dragged on, her act was starting to waver.
Then Brent’s calm demeanor struck hard. The silence he commanded through rational mind and unwavering will, it made Angel grew silent, taking deep breaths as he asked for her version of what had happened. Angélique didn’t know if Brent had heard the story from another member of the evacuation team, but if he didn’t then that gave her the edge of explaining the story and hopefully he will be satisfied enough to not poke around the others.
Sighing, Angélique sat against the wall at the far side of the gym, easing the pain in her knee. Her voice grew low, and being that far away, Angélique used her projection ability to make her voice reach out for Brent and Ernest.
“It started shortly after we separated from the hotel. At first, we insisted Sander to leave Christmas to us so he could return to the battle and help the others already there. As always, he was being a butthead and took off with the commanding officer and Christmas towards the evacuation point.” Angel recalled the initial events that led the team to be split up.
“After a while, I figured that we had a hard time moving among all the fleeing Regulars, being bumped and forced aside while we were all carrying wounded and incapacitated people. So I ordered everyone to get into an empty semi that was left abandoned. Obviously, the roads were blocked due to traffic, so I’ve had Grant use his chains and Emma use Determination to push aside cars while Siena was lifting cars away.”
The raven-haired Aberration paused, looking a bit thoughtful. “We had a nice thing going. I figured that now that we had this massive empty truck rolling down the streets, we might as well help the wounded citizens escape by helping them inside the truck, so we could move them to the evacuation point. I tried using my new power, the one I’m using now, to reach for everyone in the vicinity and tell them we were helping evacuation the young, the elderly and the wounded.”
Then, Angel’s face soured as she recalled what happened next. “Obviously, no one is going to trust a Sub in DC. The hate is just so strong for our kin in that city. But we kept trying. And no one wanted of our help. Then everything went to shit when Cat's Cradle appeared. People panicked, while others just looked at us as if we were to blame for everything that happened. People just hated us more, and started throwing insults at us. Then there was someone who shouted in our cuffs to “Leave the civilians to fend for themselves.” Let me tell you that this really didn't help on top of everything that was happening.”
“One brick flew into the windshield and hit Marcus straight on the shoulder. It was then I realized that if Marcus had been hit by a brick, something that someone should’ve been done purposefully at the height and angle the cabin was, that the others outside were in danger. People then started pelting us with a rain of debris, from huge rocks to bricks. I was thinking we were fine, in the safety of the truck, but the others were exposed to the storm. If they stopped using their powers of moving cars aside to protect themselves, then we’d just be stuck in there, until they run out of debris and come personally to attack us. But none of us stopped despite the hail, so I took matters into my own hands before anyone got their head split open by an ill-aimed brick.”
Angel’s act faltered for an instant, just about thinking of saying that she didn’t expected the others to drop what they were doing and join her on the beatdown, killing those she had already put out of commission.
“The rest of the story, you saw what went down.”
Ernie listened, fury silently broiling in him.
"Don't tell me you're actually trying to pin some of that shit on me. I transmitted you to 'get away from them'. There's a huge fucking difference and I did that for your safety. It's not my fault that you all threw yourselves into the crowds, that you did the exact opposite of what I advised, that you used your power to tell every sub-hater in the goddamn city what your fucking location was. It's honestly pathetic that you're trying to shift the blame. You were the one that consciously did all this."
Too many details lining up. A chill ran down his spine as the cars were mentioned.
"Matters into your own hands, huh? Siena was the one lifting the cars. So she dropped them and crushed a bunch of people too, right? Did you tell her to do that so your precious prodigies could be protected?"
“Do you have to fucking twist everything I’m trying to say? I just told that it wasn’t helping. I’m not saying this entire thing was your fault. I’m responsible for this fucking mess, so stop bitching about me trying to shift blame on others.” Angel spat, her irritation growing every time she was hearing Ernie talking. Who knew that one of her close friend, a previous fan, was so hateful. Was it the kind of people who actually idolized her in the past? She thought she made herself a better example than encouraging this sort of behavior.
“Hating us or not, I always said that those with power should endeavor to help the others in need. We had the opportunity, I wanted to seize it and make some more good in this world, on top of Marcus and Emma’s claim during their interview. I thought I made that pretty clear back then when I was leading my band.”
“It’s pitifully hypocritical, huh? To claim such things, then end up killing people in a fit of zeal.” The fallen singer added, her face showing just how much she had fallen from the grace she had built before.
"There's a difference between wanting to help and being a fucking glory-hound," Ernie scoffed back, assuming the worst of everything she was saying, "Yeah. You're a disgrace, Angel. An embarrassment to everything people like Marcus have been working towards, though I guess even that isn't much considering he fucking lost it out there too. A whole city of panicking tourists and new refugees, and you thought it was actually worth anyone's time to get a handful of people shoved into your truck and past the other thousands of tourists and refugees needing transport?"
"Don't cry to me about how pitiful it is. I saw it myself. I'm hearing it right now. And you never answered my question. Tell me about the dropped cars."
”You expect me to give you answers after being this massive of an asshole? Do you even fucking hear yourself talk, Ernest? Go fuck yourself, I’m done with you. I can’t believe I’ve considered a fucking dickhead as one of my friends. You know what, Ernest? It’s people like you that makes it easier to reject that I was previously a famous rockstar. If all I’ve ever managed to inspire in my life are selfish douchebags that bully people around and stab helpless people in the eyes like you, then I’m fine burning it all down and start anew from those ashes.
"Who are you defending, Angel?" he grew more agitated and ignored her insults, "Tell me about those cars."
They were going at it like rabid animals again, so intent on tearing out each other's throats while he was trying to figure out what the hell had even went down. Just so much goddamn hatred spewing everywhere, huh? Though the situation did indeed sound like everything spiraled out of control, the racist climate of Washington driven to the brink by the appearance Cat's Cradle before being redirected onto subnaturals that looked as if they were just escaping, it still...
It still didn't have to boil down into rampant violence did it?
"Ernie, please, just..." A tremor caused the weights to rattle, before Brent doubled his pace, burning away emotion, attachment. "Shut up."
Grant. Siena. Marcus. Even Emma, perhaps. What were they all...no, there were reports weren't there? Reports that lined up too well with what he heard from the cuffs. Time Scar opening fire on a regular. Killing them because they were attacking 'Pandora'. So, just Grant and Siena then.
"Angelic, I already told you that all I could do was hear. Please, continue on," Brent said, composed, "What did you do and why did you do it? What did everyone else do in response? And...what is Ernie on about, in regards to the cars? Stop taking the bait and avoiding the question."
Angélique ignored Ernest. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing what he wanted to hear. She would not accuse the others so as he could just walk up to them and start accusing them vehemently just like he was doing right now.
Brent, however, was a whole another matter. Angel hated him for just being there and quietly observing the events without flinching. That cold attitude was just unsettling, even if she should be welcoming the calm demeanor.
"I already told you what I did and why I did it, Brent. I screamed them to stop, twice. They didn't listen. So I just started using my other power, the Banshee's, to put them down. It was us, or them. I chose us. I told you the others were moving the cars and didn't stop despite the thrown debris. I used that opportunity to push our aggressors onto their working area. People were bound to be crushed underneath the moved vehicles. The others couldn't know. They didn't expect that. They had no time to react. By the time they realized, it was too late..."
"Is that your final answer, Angelic?"
The young woman remained silent, a half-convincing answer to Brent's question. Feeling overwhelmed and tense from this atmosphere and the threatening aura the two young men were exuding, Angel slowly got on her feet. The pain in her knee from Ernie's earlier kick had mostly subsided, making her leg serviceable once more.
There really was no point to staying here anymore, now that she answered their interrogations with a bold lie of self-destruction. She felt like a captive from those who were supposed to be her friends. She didn't want to be part of it anymore. So Angélique walked silently towards the gym's entrance.
Funny. So instead of crying, now the terrible Banshee of Montreal was running. Maybe there was a better way to do this. A way that would have gotten more answers, more truths rather than this rubbish that treated the two of them as if they were half-deaf idiots. Warranted a smirk, at least, a humorless one.
Her choice in the end. It had always been his policy to push or pull, not to direct.
But still, as Angelic retreated, there was one last question.
"Is that going to be your choice from now on? Destroy the world to protect your friends?"
Angel stopped by the door's frame, the words from Brent's mouth were oddly familiar to the whole debate she had that time with her inner self.
"I chose the Destroyer's path ever since the Dream. It's about time I accept everything that it implies."
"There are more than enough destroyers in this world, human and monster," Brent said. "Knowing that, you will still choose that path?"
"There's still not enough, if the world is still plagued with these... monsters. It takes more of those willing to go down the abyss to fight them."
"And are you willing to? Or is it just easier for you to?"
Angélique fell silent. It was a question that she was still wondering herself. A question that she had kept asking herself all night long, but found no answer. She didn't have the answer to that question. Reflecting that lack of response, Angel's hand loosened on the door's frame, her feet bringing her past the doorframe.
Ernie glared as she moved. Funny of her to talk of monsters and the abyss. Neither of them knew a goddamn thing.
His rope hand twitched. She still hadn't answered his question. He could make her stay, make her talk. But he didn't. There were other ways to get what he wanted.
"You sound so grand, talking about paths and destroyers. But I'm gonna tell you now. This X-mark isn't a path. It's a mistake, something you seem to be constantly making. You're not some kinda goddess of chaos, Angel. You're a scared little girl that can't even have the decency to lose sleep over the lives she takes. Destroying the world to protect your friends?"
This was a bad idea.
"If they can't even fend for themselves against a handful of Regulars without fucking it up so spectacularly then maybe they don't deserve protection. I suggest getting your priorities straight."
Angel thought that she should’ve just left the provoking Aberration alone with his insults, clearly assuming wrong about her. She should’ve been gone by now, but she was stupid. Blinded by anger, her body turned to face the two boys in the room, clearly pissed again.
“What do you even know about my sleeping habits? Nothing, if that’s the kind of bullshit you concluded.” Angel scoffed at his last statement. She could’ve told him about that time he failed to protect Christmas, but Angel wasn’t one to put blame on others unless it was rightfully deserved. Hazel had just been stronger than him, that was all.
But it still nonetheless didn’t excuse him for talking shit about the others. They didn’t deserve to be taking this sort of crap behind their backs. “You talk big, for someone who stands behind and do nothing. I didn’t hear you doing jackshit back in Wisford. And I didn’t saw you anywhere in DC. Tell me, Ernest, would you have preferred I ‘set my priorities straight’ back in Wisford and let Hazel slaughter you like a useless piece of garbage?”
"If you had set your priorities straight, you would have been helping against those rogue mages like Emma and Siena instead of... huh, what were you doing again? Whatever. I might do 'nothing' as you say, but I'd rather do that than slaughter a bunch of Regs, thanks."
"I was helping civilians out of those Collectors with Grant and a fucking bloodied face! Would I even know that eight of us wouldn't be able to take care of four Rogues? Fucking hell, Zoe was the one who took care of basically everything. Why did it took half of our class to kill four Rogues when it only took a third of us to take down those two gigantic monsters. Why? Because nobody had the guts to kill humans. Nobody wanted to pull the trigger."
"You're wrong. It's not guts you need to take someone's life. Anyone with a gun or an X-mark can do that. Anyone suffering a moment of weakness or rash anger can do something they can't take back. I wasn't there but I doubt you can compare yourself to Zoe's conviction."
An accusing finger pointed at Angelique.
"The moment you ruptured all those eardrums and laid waste to a bunch of innocents wasn't strength. It was misjudgment, so don't try to spin it as anything but that. But I'm sure I'm just wasting my words on you, if you're so caught up in this idea of necessary destruction. So I'll put it in your words. Obviously our classmates aren't as lacking in 'guts' as you think, since they were involved in this too. That was a trigger you were all itching to pull and I'm real disappointed."
Ernest was right, Angel wasn’t anything like Zoe. Zoe was strong, she accepted boldly the things she had done and didn’t bitch and moan about it. She kept her sins for herself and was willing to drown with them as they kept burying her. Angel wasn’t like that, as much as she tried to.
There was nothing she could say to reply to Ernie’s words. He was piercing through her veil of lies, but she didn’t want it to crumble like that.
Just as Brent said earlier, she’ll take the easy way out of this confrontation. There was nothing else for her to object.
“I really have nothing to care for your disappointment.” Was all she said before leaving.
"Well," Brent lifted an eyebrow, "Guess that's that."
He glanced over towards Ernie, that eerie sneer still stuck on the aberration's face.
"You enjoyed that?"
Ernie blinked and peered at Brent strangely. "I don't like...what do you mean?"
"Ah," the arbiter nodded, "You were just smiling the whole time. Still, guess this means training with Angelic's finished."
Smiling? Ah fuck.
Ernie's expression settled into one of worry. He didn't want Brent to know this part of him more than he already did. The action was more difficult than he wanted it to be.
"She never answered my question. Would've liked that before our training finished."'
He noted that change. Kept it in the back of the mind for the future.
"Cars, huh?" Brent said, heading to the treadmill. "You saw what happened, right, Ernie? How much of what she said was bullshit?"
"She left a lot of stuff out. Like Marcus and his gun. The battered bodies that weren't screamed to death. Siena..."
His voice took on a mournful note.
"She didn't tell us much about what the others were doing during the attack. A half-truth then. Fits with what I saw."
"Mom of Unit B, huh?" Brent laughed, adjusting the speed of the treadmill until it audibly whirred. "Wanted to take all the blame so we didn't ask anyone else about what happened."
But it was easy enough, seeing how quiet everyone was during the truck ride. How no one looked at anyone else. A shared sense of guilt and shame.
"You still like her though? Or not?"
She wanted to take all the blame. So she was like Zoe in that regard. He was wrong about that.
Was he mistaken about everything else?
Brent's question irked him. It had been so easy to sever that bond. Something he was eager for, even. Ernie wondered if the past few weeks had meant nothing to him, whether she was ever truly a friend instead of a rockstar he threw himself at.
Too easy, it had been too easy. The time the spent together was completely nullified by his desire to make her suffer for what she'd done. If he could go on without Angelique's companionship then what did it say about his other friends? He stared at Brent for a second. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really know much about him either.
Thoughts for another time.
"She can go stuff herself," Ernie decided, hopping back onto the machine. He hesitated before asking, "What about you? You and Siena are close, aren't you?"
"Siena's an arb."
Not that it meant anything. He should know that, considering his own self.
"I'd like to hear what happened in her own words, at least. It's not a bad test, you know?" That reflexive smile reared its head. "See who's honest and who's not."
"There were only two X's on that truck. And look what still happened."
He was being too harsh, right? Showing too much of his thoughts. Ernie sighed.
"Yeah, you should talk to her. Don't let...what happened here happen between you two too."
He still believed it was the right choice. Like cutting away a tumor.
"Tell me when you've done it, yeah? Tell me if there's still a reason to trust them."
Brent nodded.
Strange, how so many life-and-death situations have passed, and yet, trust was still something that was uncertain amongst Unit B. Did Unit A have the same problems? Did it more than blood, guts, and tragedy for Shane to get his own team together?
What were they missing? Why were they so prone to breaking?
"Still down for making ice cream and donuts?"
The Aberration blinked in surprise, before breaking out into a grin. A nicer one this time.
What he and Brent had was shallow at best. But it was better than nothing.
Angélique had been alone at the gym tonight, training all by herself. Muscle exercises like Brent used to show the girl, shadow fighting using her own martial arts style, some more cardio. While her body was exerting itself physically, Angel's brain felt hollow. The enthusiasm of training with someone else was gone, replaced by sour loneliness as the people she used to call partners were now nemesis. She couldn't trust them anymore to have her back, to have her well-being at heart. It hurt, but this was how things were going to be now. She could lament all she wanted, but that won't bring back the trust that was lost, or the feeling of camaraderie that had settled before.
She stood alone... her circle of friends rapidly diminishing as time went by.
It was a bit past midnight when the training young woman came out of the gym. She was exhausted from today. The morning fiasco with Brent and Ernest just pushed Angel to segregate herself from the rest of the class. She had gone for a lengthy jogging all around the mansion's premises for most of the morning, then took a car to get further away from the estate to only come back during evening. She hadn't slept for a while now, but she wasn't looking forward to meeting her nightmares.
"Angel," A cold, quiet voice sounded from beside the Gym's door. Allison stood there, leaning against the wall, staring at the ground. It hadn't been hard for Allison to figure out where Angel would be, but actually going inside proved to be impossible. Waiting outside was easier anyway. Allison almost seemed to be shaking, nervously gripping her left arm with her right. She didn't exactly look well, her hair in knots, and her skin pale. She had thought it was bad before, listening to Angel commit murder, but facing her felt even worse. She needed to confront her, to ask why, to find if there was any hope left, if it was all a lie. Still, Allison found herself trembling, barely able to speak out of a confounding mix of rage and heartbreaking sadness. It likely didn't help that Allison hadn't talked to anyone since DC, only leaving her room to shower and eat once in the last day. "Why?" She suddenly found the word falling out of her mouth.
If Angel could jump out of her skin literally, she probably would have as she heard the cold voice calling out to her just when she left the gym’s door frame. While it was entirely possible for someone to be awake at the time of the night, she never expected someone to be near enough the gym this late, let alone actually waiting for her.
Placing a hand on her chest and sighing heavily, Angélique turned to gaze at the waiting silhouette. Upon meeting Allison's gaze, the Voice Mage's morose face quickly turned into a mix of emotions that could only be described as shocked.
Angélique hadn't spoken to Allison ever since that night her most precious friend had confessed her love for the fallen idol. Ever since they left Washington behind, Angélique was dying inside, thinking of walking to Allison and tell her she was happy that they both came out alive from this ordeal. Hug her tightly. Seek comfort in her arms. Bask in the warmth of her loving embrace. Tell her that she was ready to accept her feelings.
But she ran away from it, took the easier path, as Brent called it. The coward’s path. When Angel learned from Ernest what she had been screaming and speaking throughout the whole catastrophe had been broadcasted to everyone, the young woman was overwhelmed by dread and shame. This had changed everyone’s perspective; Allison’s as well, judging from how she looked at Angel right now.
The full-fledged woman was at a loss, frightened. She was not prepared for this so soon. She knew she eventually had to explain herself to the girl who loved her, it was inevitable. And yet, Angélique had been running away, to buy herself time for as long as she could or simply because she was too scared to face a confrontation from Allison.
Ernest was right. She was only a scared little girl.
“A-Alice… I…”
The words came out choked. She could barely think of what to tell her. Explain things just the way she told Ernest and Brent? To take all the blame onto herself for the others’ sake? But then, Angélique started to be frightened by her own resolve to protect the others. Just by looking at what happened earlier today, she was losing more of her precious friends by the moment. Was it worth it, to lose everyone around her to benefit all the others?
Angel was terrified. Terrified that Allison turned out to be just like Ernest. Was her love just as fake as Ernest’s friendship? Angel was scared of losing the only person that mattered the most, the only thing Angel had left in this miserable existence. Was she willing to throw it away for the resolve of becoming a monster?
“I-I didn’t mean to… I… wanted to protect the others… b-but I loss control… and…”
Before she even started explaining herself properly, Angel’s naked eyes started to wet themselves, and Angel brought both hands to her face, hiding in shame as emotions overloaded her brain and took a toll on her exhausted body. Angel’s legs bucked, unable to support the emotional baggage, sending her on her knees. And she only remained there, sobbing, her mind unable to untangle itself from all the knots the confused Aberration made on herself.
"Get up, Angel." Allison's voice was cold and empty, uncharacteristically somber. "This was supposed to be easy for me. I was supposed to ask why you did it, you would give me some bullshit answer, and I would walk away and give up on you, realizing that you're just the same as every other fucked up person I've met." Allison's eyes stayed firmly planted at the ground, rather than at the weeping Angel. "I want to be wrong. I still love you," the words sounded eerily empty despite the sentiment, "but I can't trust you. I thought I had found another person who wasn't going to let themselves resort to murder. I thought I had the found an incredibly rare thing in this place, someone who I could actually trust without getting backstabbed and having my life ruined. But, of course...
"In the end you do the same as everyone else. You do something terrible, act like it wasn't your fault, blame it on something else." Allison paused for a second, collecting her thoughts. "Saying you didn't mean to do it isn't going to fix things. It won't bring people back. It won't heal the wounds, physical or otherwise. The only option is to face what you did and understand the consequences of your actions. Of course, the public won't know what you did. The people whose lives you destroyed will know somewhat, but they will be kept quiet. The only people who know what happened are you, me, and the rest of our merry band of monsters," Allison paused again. "Of course, being a bunch of monsters, the consequences aren't that dire, are they? In fact, I bet a few people would tell you that there was no other option, that what you did was fine, or that it really wasn't your fault. The other parties don't exactly get to tell you what they think, do they? I thought, maybe I should give you an example of what happens when you do something like this, when you kill," Allison's voice seemed to waver slightly. "When people are killed, two kinds of corpses are left behind. The first is self-explanatory, but the second doesn't get much attention. It's probably because they still walk, talk, and function on a basic level. Other than basic functions, though, they're the same as a corpse. They're dead emotionally.
"No one remembers the people left behind when someone dies. The people who have to pick up the fucking pieces and move on. The funny thing is, the pain left after someone dies isn't even interesting. It's just a dull nothingness where anything else should be. Imagine feeling that day in and day out. Imagine trying to mourn, and just feeling fucking nothing. At some point it just becomes background noise, death doesn't faze you anymore. That's the hard part of this for me. It's not trying to find the words to say to you after this, it's trying to feel fucking anything. Though... maybe I should be more detailed, shouldn't I?" Allison now dared to gaze at her weeping friend, her stare as dead as her words. "Well, let's start with the first death, it's simple. My father got cancer. My mother decided that was a great time to reveal she was cheating on him and left him. She never spoke to either of us ever again. My father died a few months later.
"I can't talk about the second death. The next few, though, I can easily discuss. About two years ago now, I escaped an orphanage with the only 4 friends I had and a woman who called herself Tommy. I think I told you a bit about her? I'll be glossing over her for now. About a year, maybe a year and a half after we started living out of a van and driving around the country, we met a strange man. He had piercing, red eyes. I fell in love with him at first sight. He later killed all my friends, buried them behind an old cabin, and didn't tell me until I figured it all out a few months ago. Not long after that I ended up at USARILN. I think we both remember what happened to Alexis and Savannah.
"What all that death left me with was a bunch of holes. I can't fill those back up. The people that were there are gone. My mother, the red eyed man, and USARILN took those people away. To the victims of what you did, you are the exact same sort of awful. 'I didn't mean to do it' doesn't matter. You made your bed, Angélique Lachance. Lie in it. You only have one option. Realize what you've done, come to terms with it, and, listen, this is the most important part: Never. Do. It. Again."
Angel simply stood there, paralyzed, as her sobbing had stopped to listen to her friend. She was shocked to hear all that had happened to her, explaining more than a few things about why Allison was the person she was.
Each word felt like a stab to her heart. She didn't mean to kill these people. Hell, she didn't even kill them herself. But it was her fault nonetheless. She had lost control, and in a fit of zeal to protect her friends, has unleashed a barrage that would only enrage the innocents and eventually exposed those people to the calamities that her teammates brought.
She couldn't summon the courage to say these words to Allison, not after hearing those words. Quite the opposite, she had accepted them. She was at fault. None of this would have happened if she had been in control. No, her Stigma wasn't to be considered. It was just an excuse. An excuse that Allison didn't want to accept, just as Kusari didn't accept Lilianna's when it came down to explain why she amplified injuries until everyone died.
Slowly, Angel did as Allison commanded. She got up on her feet, albeit shakenly, but her eyes never left the ground. She couldn't bear to look into the eyes of the girl she had wronged so painfully. And as such, she did the only thing that she was trying to be good at.
Sacrifice.
"A-Allison... I..."
The words were still stuck into her throat. She wanted to scream her pain, but she couldn't. Allison didn't deserve this pitiful piece of garbage that tried to act as a remorseful monster. She didn't deserve to be put through so much pain because of her.
"I'm sorry... to have betrayed you. Please..."
Tears started to fall again.
"Give up on me... I'm not worth it."
With that Angel quickly turned away and wanted to run, but her weakened legs could only manage a quick walking pace.
A hand reached out to stop Angel, and with some stumbling, it managed to find a hold on Angel's shoulder.
"Idiot. I'm not the one you betrayed. Sure, I feel betrayed, but you didn't spite me. It wasn't intentional. Besides, you should fucking know that's not how love works. I can't just give up on you. I wouldn't have said any of this shit if I didn't still love you." Allison still stared at the floor.
Angel stopped, the hand on her shoulder sort of froze her into place. No, she wasn't only betraying Allison, she was betraying herself, her own feeling. She wanted just as much as Allison to feel loved and to return that love, but she didn't want to hurt her any more than she already did. It drove her mad really, to continue trying to reject it all.
Slowly and eerily, Angélique turned to face Allison, her tired eyes set upon the brunette's face. She'll know, once and for all, if it was meant to be, or if it was all a lie.
"Allison..." her voice beckoned "Can you look at me in the eyes and still find the will to say that despite knowing what I did?"
"Yea, I think I can manage that. Actually..." Allison found herself moving around Angel to face her, placing her hands on the metalhead's shoulders. She stared into those tear-soaked eyes for a few moments. "Angélique Lachance. I love you." Allison moved faster than her own mind could process, and pulled the taller girl in for a kiss.
There was no resistance. In fact, as Angel's eyes met Allison's and heard her name accompanied with those simple three words, she felt a desire like none she ever felt before. Wrapping her arms around her lover's waist, the dark-haired fallen rockstar embraced Allison tightly as she accepted her wholly, her lips meeting with the brunette’s own into a passionate kiss.
Allison melted into the kiss, surprised that the depressed Angel would even be willing to reciprocate. It was a wonderful feeling, one that Allison wanted to last forever. It was an odd sort of irony, then, that Allison was the one to break the kiss, if only for a moment.
"Holy shit."
It was a first time experience for the rockstar to have shared something so intimate with someone else. The act of kissing wasn't what had drawn the previously cold girl, it was that feeling of sharing something such intimacy with someone she could only really describe as 'her love'.
Angélique's heart fluttered, again an emotion she felt like she never experienced before, which made it seem like every worry in the world had just disappeared. When Allison broke up the kiss, there was a certain longing in Angel's eyes, feeling like it had been too short, too soon to break.
But she giggled heartily when she heard Allison's breathy swear. "Alice... ever since we came back, I had realized it. When you ran off after Zoe, and when you mentioned you were about to make a do-or-die plan, my mind was only thinking about you. I feared of losing you. I wanted to be there with you, but Grant told me it would do me no good, I'd only get in the way. Each passing moment, i was praying for your safety. For you to come back alive."
Angel paused, thinking back to what happened in the meantime, then when they left DC, coming here and being confronted by Brent and Ernest. "I couldn't tell you. I was scared. Scared of you rejecting me, like Ernest rejected me so easily. I was afraid of being hurt, of being alone, of losing what was the most precious person to me left in my wreck of a life. You."
Another pause, more tears to shed. It was hard at this point to say if she was happy to have been freed of this torment, or if she was hurt deep inside. "So let me say it, please."
"Allison, I love you, from the bottom of my heart."
Allison couldn't even speak, only finding the tears that had evaded her through the last several minutes crawling down her cheeks. She threw herself further into the embrace, reuniting her lips with Angel's. It was the only response Allison found herself capable of giving, and it seemed to be the correct one. They held like that for what felt like an eternity, sharing something that seemed too intimate for the pair of dysfunctional youths. Eventually, Allison found herself leading Angel back to her room, where she promptly locked the door.
Coming back from her daily routine shower after working a running sweat ever since she woke up, Angélique walked to the mansion’s garage, again. Much like the other days before, the fallen rockstar didn’t feel like staying locked up inside the estate. She’d much rather enjoy the feeling of freedom driving a car around the island gave her. It gave her time to think about what she did, about what happened, about the others.
Siren had no intended destination. She just wanted to get away from it all as much as she wanted to explore. For that reason, Angel had swung at the black sportscar’s backseats a few bags of her own personal belongings: spare clothes, swimsuit, phone, only to name a few. She never knew if she would actually return to the mansion for the night.
Especially not today of all days. Every year, Angel made it a challenge on herself to throw something special for her birthday. She figured that if today was a special day, she would as well celebrate it with others and let them in onto this happy day. She could remember last year’s birthday, having thrown a party at the Bell Center with hundreds of her fans. She sang, she played, she drank, she had fun.
But this year, it was entirely different. She had no fans to celebrate with. No friends. No family. Only people that she shared a battlefield with, and hateful thoughts to remind her how pathetic she was. Truly, today wasn’t a day worth celebrating at all. If anything else, it was a day to curse what she had become.
Solemnly, Angélique took the driver’s seat inside the Dodge Charger, taking time to readjust her seat and her mirrors.
Zoe hadn't been awake for too long when she decided to take a walk around the estate. For all its extravagance, the place wasn't bad to look at, and it beat sitting around watching TV or whatever.
The whole thing took an interesting turn, of course, when she caught sight of a certain singer wandering around on her own. Not a couple of weeks ago, Zoe would have ignored her classmate - actively avoided, even. But she'd changed, or at least she was starting to try. Not without her fair share of... relapses, so to speak, but trying.
To tell the truth, Zoe didn't care whether she herself lived or died. For now, though, she was alive, and realizing that it wasn't worth running anymore. Ernie, for all his faults, had been right in DC; she did care about the others, like it or not. Even after what Angel had done in DC. It wasn't as though Zoe didn't have blood on her hands, and as much as anything else, she had questions to ask. Had to know what path her friend planned on walking, had to try and help her however she could.
And watching Angel get into the car, it seemed to Zoe like the other young woman was pretty miserable about something or other. So she jogged over before her classmate drove off, tapping on the driver's side window with a friendly smile. "Room for one more?"
It would be a lie to say Angel had been expecting anyone. Lost in thought, she jumped in her seat, startled by the sudden knocking on the window. She did not know whether Zoe wanted to have a talk or simply wanted Angélique to drive Zoe somewhere on her way to wherever she was going. After what happened in Washington, she would have thought no one would actively seek her out. But she was proven wrong, as Brent, Ernest and even Allison had quickly sought her out for answers about what she did in DC. Knowing Zoe, she might have come to her for answers as well.
Whether it was because Angel felt lonelier than ever before on this day that was supposed to be special, needed to talk or simply wanted someone to yell at her for what she did, Angel mustered every bit of self-assurance to smile back and nodded, pressing the doors unlocking button.
“Sure, hop in. Got some place you wanted to go to?”
At Angel's agreement, Zoe grinned and walked around the car, hopping into the seat beside her. Part of her wanted to push all the buttons, but a bigger part of her figured that'd be a bad idea. She really had no idea how to drive, and this thing was way fancier than any car she'd ever been in. At Angel's question, she shrugged, sitting back in the seat.
"Nowhere in particular." She glanced at the other girl, before shrugging. No point hiding her ulterior motives here. "Wanted to talk to you anyway, and besides, you looked like you were in a bad mood. Even worse than usual." Lighthearted teasing aside, it was clear that Zoe at least wasn't just here to interrogate Angelique.
"Figured you might feel better if you've got a friend around."
It somewhat came to no surprise to Angel hearing what Zoe had to say, although she did got surprised by her last statement. If her face was a window to her soul, then that window sure was thoroughly cleaned.
“I’m that easy to figure out, huh? Yeah… today’s not a good day for me…” Angel let out a sad smile, her gaze returning to the windshield. Zoe did just say “a friend”, right? Was she really okay still hanging around, despite what she did? Deep inside, something sparked, albeit faintly, mostly choked by pessimism and expectations being easily misjudged. “Thanks... I appreciate it.”
Making sure her seatbelt was buckled up and everything was in order, Angélique started the car’s engine and drove the beast away from the mansion. Already, as their temporary home disappeared behind, relief was soon showing up on her face as she lowered the door’s window, letting a fresh breeze enter the car and sending her obsidian hair flutter in the wind. For the semblance of freedom it brought her, she welcomed it with open arms.
Zoe smiled slightly as Angelique appeared to relax. Her own window was open as well, though the wind didn't have nearly as dramatic an effect on Zoe's appearance. Chuckling slightly, she leaned forward to mess with the radio as she spoke. "You know, I'm not sure how you deal with having that much hair. I mean mine's enough of a pain to deal with. After the first fight, I seriously considered cutting it all off."
Realizing she wasn't completely sure how to actually work the radio, Zoe sat back as soon as she reached a station that didn't seem to be the news, paying almost no attention to the music that was playing. Whatever it was, it would be better than sitting there listening to regulars discuss them all for the hundredth time.
Angélique chuckled slightly at Zoe’s remark, her mood slightly shifting for the better at these attempts of small talk. Something that she was looking forward more than the impending discussion about the whole DC incident.“I hear you. Drying and combing that mass after a bath is a pain but…” Angel paused, looking a bit thoughtful, “I love the style. It’s like when people ask me about how inconvenient my clothing is. But really, I’ve just grown used to it. Needed to have the looks that went with my job. Eventually, I just grew fond of looking extravagant.”
There was a hint of bitterness as she remembered about her previous life. It probably would’ve been easier if she just decided to change her looks to help her transition to her new Mage life. But deep inside, is changing appearance going to make it any better? Had she really given up on who she was before becoming a Subnatural.
This scene felt oddly nostalgic to Angélique. The sound of pop music playing in the background while she was having small talk with her passenger, it was a scene that she was very familiar with, from her time spent of the road. It was easy to guess Angel was no stranger to being behind the steering wheel, just by how smooth her driving was.
“I think it’d be a shame if you were to cut it off. The fiery badass look really suits you, honestly. If it still annoys you, there is always a way to make it more manageable. I tend to tie my hair into a tail or a bun if I fear it would catch into something.”
"Nah, I think it'll be fine like this. I dealt with the stomach acid - it won't get much worse than that, hopefully. Besides, it's short enough. Nice to hear it suits me, though." Zoe smiled at the compliment, before shrugging. "Whatever works, right? Don't always have to be preparing for battle or we'd never enjoy anything." Smiling, she looked at Angelique, lost in thought. A realization she'd only come to recently, but that didn't make it wrong. Just different. Although saying that, there was something to be said for efficiency as well.
Blinking, Zoe realized that she'd spaced out a little.
"Sorry. Just kinda tired." And her training routine had perhaps been a little too rigorous since getting here. You couldn't keep reopening old wounds without a little fatigue setting in, but she didn't really seem to make the connection. Almost unconsciously, she picked at the bandages that were wrapped around her hands as she glanced away from the black-haired woman with a hint of slightly embarrassed laughter.
"For what it's worth, I can't really imagine you changing your style that much. It's kinda your look at this point. Figured I may as well ask, though."
“It’s alright. To be honest, I did thought to change style when I went shopping a few times at Crimen. But then again, I couldn’t decide what I could possibly wear. Like you said, it sort of became how I look.”
Angélique grew silent, her eyes drifting away from the empty road for only a second, curious as to what Zoe was fidgeting with. “I hope those aren’t the signs of someone who been too brutally beaten up.” She joked lightly, tinged with a slightness of worry. She didn’t know if Zoe had been injured back in Washington, or if it was something that happened here. Hopefully it was nothing too serious. Angel hadn't been around the mansion enough to actually know everything that was happening with the others while she was gone.
Zoe's eyes widened with surprise as she stopped fidgeting. Okay, she probably should've paid more attention to what she was actually doing there. Still, she raised an eyebrow at Angel's statement, glancing down at herself and then to the singer. "Come on, you think anyone around here would be able to beat me up?" Yeah, probably, but that didn't stop her bravado.
Her smile faded slightly as she experimentally opened and closed a fist, wincing at the slight pain that came with the motion. Problem with having cuts on somewhere that moved so much, she supposed. "It's a training thing. No need to worry about me, I've done it plenty of times before. You get used to it." Her scars said as much.
She wasn't sure why it felt like she was admitting to doing something wrong. "Think we should stop soon? Don't wanna go too far in case the security get pissed." Hoping that her answer would have satisfied her teammate's curiosity, she looked back out of the window.
“I meant the poor bastards on the receiving end of those fists.” Angel replied with a chuckle. She found it quite silly for her red-haired friend to continue putting up this tough-girl attitude. Still, she could somewhat understand where she was coming from. However, Zoe’s answer only made the raven-haired young woman’s brows furrow in response. She heard about bruises and small injuries that came with training, but the bandages around Zoe’s hands suggested she really did a number onto her fist. “Yeah sure we practice different fighting methods, but I don’t think training to the point of getting injuries like that is quite healthy.”
But it was quite apparent Zoe had her mind set upon the whole deal. If that was her way of doing things, Angel doubted trying to talk about healthy training habits would be acknowledged. Instead, she dropped the matter, her focus returning to the road before Zoe brought up a point.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been asking around about my itineraries. Was told as long as I don’t leave the island, I’d be fine. Not that we can cross the ocean with this thing anyway. What, got ants crawling up your legs already?”
Angel was probably right about her training methods, but 'healthy' wasn't Zoe's priority. The more likely it was to break her down, the better. As for the travel, she knew they hadn't been going for that long, but... "I don't really sit around that much. My mind wanders. So to speak." And the murder fantasies weren't good. Well, they were. But she didn't want them to be. It didn't help that she considered Angel a friend.
Despite wishing otherwise, a hint of something hungry seemed to cross Zoe's expression, blue eyes fixing on Angelique. Only for a second, though, as her eyes widened and she spoke apologetically. "You don't have to worry. It's not gonna be an issue today, I just--" She sighed. "Told you before, right? Gets worse around people I like. Can't really help it."
There was that, and the fact that she didn't want to ask any painful questions while Angel was driving. "If you wanna keep going for a while, I think I'm gonna take a nap. So long's that's okay with you." Assuming Angel wouldn't protest, Zoe sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. It didn't take long for her to nod off, her expression relaxing - more peaceful than any she'd wear when awake.
Angélique only nodded to Zoe’s reminder. But with everything that was happening, the newly appointed Siren could not tell if she was desperate enough for a talk to dismiss the looming danger Zoe represented, or if it was genuine suicidal thoughts. For now, the possibility of vanishing from the Black God’s touch didn’t faze the raven-haired Aberration.
Nodding slowly to a sleepy Zoe, Angélique turned the volume of the radio slightly down, as to make some peace and quiet for the red-haired Mage to relax and take a nap undisturbed. While the pale Aberration driver felt for Zoe’s more physically-active self, Angel felt like driving a bit longer, going further away from the mansion. She wanted to feel that sense of freedom a bit more.
Eventually, the car reached the northern end of the island, sitting high atop the cliffs that overlooked the ocean from above. The sun was high in the sky, suggesting it was a bit later after noon. Having reached her destination, Angélique however did not wake Zoe immediately after shutting the car’s engine. Instead, she gazed upon the redhead’s resting face. She looked so serene, so peaceful right now. Watching this softened expression that Angel never seemed to have seen in Zoe’s traits, a longing smile crept on the singer’s lips.
Deciding that Zoe might need the rest after all that happened, the Voice Mage reached for the rear seats, grabbing a cooler she had taken from the mansion just before leaving. Inside, she retrieved what seemed to be ingredients for making sandwiches.
If Angelique was listening, she'd hear Zoe beginning to mutter something. It wasn't the clearest thing in the world, but it would be easy enough for the musician to hear - the redhead was quite obviously talking in her sleep.
Whatever dream the girl was having, it was vivid. And not exactly pleasant. Not every word was said clearly enough to be audible, but it was probably enough for Angelique to get the idea. "...n't want... alone. I know... Should've been me... stronger. I'm sorry, just..." There was a hint of desperation, her brow furrowed in distress. Fear, perhaps, that she refused to let show when she was awake. "Don't leave again."
It was also quickly becoming apparent that Zoe likely had no idea she did this - there was no way the girl would've fallen asleep near anyone, friend or not, if she knew how much vulnerability was showing right now.
As Angélique finished preparing her meal, she quickly turned to the mutterings of her sleeping friend. Paying no heed to her food, the raven-haired musician listened intently to the dreaming Aberration, her every words, her every expressions. It was tough to watch, mainly because everything that Angel was struggling within herself, it sort of reflected itself into the red-haired girl’s sleeping form.
It was said that, when sleeping, one’s subconscious was free to express itself. If that was the case, then Angélique figured that the muttering Zoe in front of her was probably the real Zoe, deep down inside, hidden under a layer of hardened and cold façade. This sudden revelation gripped Angel’s heart. Just how hard was Zoe on herself? How heavy were her burdens?
Angélique was so used to seeing a strong-willed and harsh Zoe, it came as a shock to witness that side of her. And yet, there was some strange sense to relief, happiness crawling through this scene. It showed that Zoe, despite her claims, cared just about as much as anyone, but wasn’t willing to show it. Finally, it confirmed Zoe wasn’t a complete monster.
After a while, the jet-black-haired Aberration couldn’t bear seeing her friend in that state. But she didn’t want to shake the girl off from her sleep just like that, fearing it might do more harm than good. Instead, Angel thought of something that eased her mind when she was young and distressed. Like a mother to her child, Angélique’s golden voice began filling the air. Loud enough to be heard, yet peaceful notes that would soothe tumultuous minds. Not exactly a lullaby, more drifting towards a ballade.
The melody seemed to at least calm Zoe slightly, a little of the previous tranquility returning to her expression, though her murmurs didn't quite cease. Her frown and fearful expression were at least less severe, eventually fading to a small, relaxed smile.
After a few minutes more peaceful slumber, however, she finally began to stir, sitting up and blinking sleep out of her eyes. Looking around with more than a little confusion, her eyes rested on Angelique. Her expression was slightly less guarded than usual, but certainly not to the level it had been while she was unconscious. Trying to shake off the last of the dreams that had distressed her. Though it wasn't as bad as usual.
"Angel?" She was curious as to why the other girl would be singing, shooting her an amused grin. Blissfully unaware of what she'd just been doing, that much was obvious. Opening the door, she stepped out of the car to join Angelique, giving her a small if somewhat confused, smile. "You're... singing." It sounded as though Zoe wanted to ask why, but wasn't sure if it was worth it. Maybe it was just a musician thing. She figured she'd seen a whole lot stranger.
”Well, you knew I was a singer before, right? Even if there is no crowd, that doesn’t stop me from singing to myself from time to time.”
Angel mustered a half-assed smile while her eyes lowered to the lunch she was preparing. It was simply too embarrassing to tell Zoe that this corny singing was to help her waking up from her bad dreaming, even though Zoe had already figured Angel was a bleeding-heart type. Too embarrassing, and she didn’t know how well Zoe would take that.
Instead, Angélique kept her innocent smile and turned to Zoe, offering her the sandwich she was working on. “Are you hungry? I’ve made a lunch for the both of us. You’ve been napping for a few hours now.”
"Uh, kind of. Thanks. Didn't realize I'd be out so long." Accepting the sandwich, Zoe appeared to take Angel's explanation at face value. Yeah, must've been a musician thing. Looking around them, Zoe sighed. The view was pretty spectacular, and although being surrounded by ocean wasn't her favorite thing, being so far up made it far more bearable. Overall, it wasn't bad.
"Here I thought I was the one looking out for you by coming along, and I've just been sleeping the whole time. Sorry about that. Guess you've had better company, huh?" She chuckled, looking around the landscape. "If we're gonna wait around here for a while, may as well go find somewhere to sit. Or, I dunno, walk or something."
And as much as she wanted to just enjoy the moment, Zoe knew she'd have to speak to Angel properly soon.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. You know, my grandfather used to tell me that if someone is sleeping in your car while you drive, then that means they trust you enough to entrust their safety to you.” Angélique giggled playfully, trying to tease some sort of softness out of Zoe with that reminder. But in reality, she was thankful for Zoe’s words. It felt good to know that, despite what happened and the incoming talk they will be having, that Zoe was out here to look out after her. Perhaps that was the one thing that made this day bearable.
With a nod, Angel closed the sportscar’ trunk after grabbing two more sandwiches. There were plenty of rocks to sit onto, but ultimately Angel decided for the both of them to go walking. Zoe did mention earlier that she wasn’t good at sitting for too long. Might as well do things her way after Zoe gracefully indulged Angel’s driving fantasy.
“But really, thank you for being here today. I… don’t know what I would be doing right now if you didn’t ask to join me earlier.”
"You don't need to thank me for it." Zoe wasn't sure what else to say to that. There were a few seconds of silence before she slowly shook her head. It wasn't any trouble for her to come along. And the statement on trust was... odd. Possibly because it felt true, even when many people would have had their trust broken by the singer's previous actions. But on some level, it made sense.
"You've given me plenty of second chances yourself. Least I can do is try and return the favour. Besides, we are friends, aren't we? Can't just have you sitting around miserable." Just enough to make it clear Zoe wasn't unaware of what had happened in DC. But that didn't change that Angel had been at least partly responsible for getting her to stop driving the others away. "This morning - you said it wasn't a good day. There any reason for that, or is it just... what happened before?"
Testing the waters, though it appeared that Zoe was coming from a place of concern rather than anger. She knew as well as anyone what it was like to hate yourself for the things you'd done.
Even though Angélique knew exactly what was wrong with her today, and knew eventually that question would come around, Angel still wasn’t prepared to actually answer this question. The silence somewhat explained a lot about how she felt, but it was only half of it. Did she really need to reveal to Zoe about the meaning of today? She didn’t want to bother the girl with something like that.
And yet, Zoe’s words struck true again at the mention of them being actual friends. Being a classmate was one thing, but hearing out the word ‘friend’ was a whole another matter. Probably something she heard a few people actually say. That in itself incited Angel to open her heart to Zoe.
“It’s… complicated." Angel finally managed to say, breaking her silence. She took a deep breath, obviously trying to gather all the courage in her heart to reveal the darkness that was plaguing her. “Truth is, yes. I still feel like I did a mistake back in Washington, no matter how hard I try to convince myself and the others what I did was for their own good.”
Another dead silence, her mouth quivering, her voice growing shaky “A-and today… it’s… it’s my birthday."
She felt like she could cry, but instead she tried to remain firm, strong, like Zoe had always showed her whenever she spoke. “I’ve never felt this lonely ever before.”
Zoe was surprised to see how shaken Angel was by all of this. Even more surprised to hear that it was her birthday. But as she saw how close the singer was to crying, what she felt was something familiar. Protectiveness, almost, a certainty that she didn't want to watch this girl destroy herself. Fuck, it was so familiar. So, perhaps unexpectedly considering her usual aversion to physical contact, she drew Angel into a hug.
"Hey. You don't have to be strong right now." Speaking softly, Zoe couldn't help but see herself in the older girl. Loneliness, fearfulness, a terrible blood-soaked mistake. They really were similar, weren't they? Similar, but not quite the same. Angelique hadn't crossed that line, not yet. The pain wasn't a part of her. "I promise you I have an idea of what you're going through. I know what it's like to think that everyone hates you. You're not a monster. You don't have to be, unless you choose to."
"Angel, I don't want to watch you turn into me. And I'm not gonna stand by and let that happen." She smiled, loosening her grip and taking a step back to try and meet the singer's eyes. There was fire in her gaze, a simple, steadfast determination. Her tone was firm, but remained gentle as she continued. "But you need to choose which path you're taking, 'cause I don't want to watch you tear yourself apart."
The sudden hug and soft tone in Zoe’s voice was all it took for Angel to lower her already-weakened guard. As she returned the barely taller girl’s embrace, her face buried itself on her shoulder, wet droplets of tears starting to wet her eyes. It was clear she tried holding herself back from sobbing her heart out, but she couldn’t hide the emotional liquid from reaching her cheeks.
“I… need to be strong. I have to be strong.” Angel muttered as Zoe pulled her out from their hug, wiping her tears away from her face. “I don’t know what I want, Zoe.”
Angélique paused, unsure how to exactly explain what was going on in her mind. “Back in Washington, all I wanted was to stop the Regulars from stoning us. I knew I had the powers to disable these people without killing them. Even if the world would come to hate me for attacking them, I wanted to protect the others.”
“I was ready to shoulder that responsibility… even if I knew that would definitively fuel that reputation of a murderer I got from Montréal. I felt like if I had to become the monster they would fear, then the Regulars would not get in our way the next time we try to save people. But then… the leaked videos came in… and I was portrayed as a hero, instead of showing the disaster that made me a monster only a moment earlier. It… crushed my resolve. How can I live with what we’ve done back there while we are applauded as heroes? How can I be the person to pull the trigger when I’m supposed to be seen as someone good? I don’t want to hurt anyone… but I have to if I want to protect the others from the cruel injustice we are facing every day.”
"Take it from the person that got the bad publicity, being condemned by the world doesn't help anyone. You think any regulars'll chill out when I'm around?" Zoe sighed, struggling to find the words she needed. Angel wasn't the only one who'd screwed up before, she knew that all too well. "In Wisford. I just wanted to end the fight, just didn't want anyone else to get hurt. But I fucked up, hard. No-one died, but I caused more hurt than I had to. You did too. It wasn't necessary, not really."
"I could lie to you and say it'll all be okay. But it won't. People have long memories, and some of them won't understand what you did. There was probably a better way. I get it, pulling the trigger, taking responsibility. This one's on you. But you've got a second chance, and that's a pretty rare thing. If you really want to pull the trigger... that's your choice. If you feel like have to do it for the others, then screw your reputation." But for what it was worth, she was putting her faith in Angelique. "What you're supposed to be doesn't mean shit compared to keeping the others alive."
"For now, if the world won't hold you responsible, then do it yourself. If you want someone to remind you what you've done, then remind yourself. You want a reason to fight, then you make one for yourself." A pessimistic view of the world, but at the end of the day, you were the only person that would always be around. "I've got your back, for as long as you're here. And if the chance is there, I'll happily pull the trigger in your place."
After all, Zoe knew she was already seen by the world as a monster.
Angel remained silent as Zoe explained the path that was lying ahead of what Angélique was considering to take. A thankless existence, full of self-imposed burdens and hardships. Was that what Zoe had been carrying with her ever since she came into USARILN, perhaps before then even? Angel was a soul that was ready to accept sacrifice as a part of her life, if it came to protect her loved ones, but was she really ready to dismiss her humanity and be left to herself until she died, with only Zoe as her partner in crime and fellow monster?
Was there any other way to be both?
A sentence the Aberration kept repeating in her head. She wanted to be there for the others, pull the triggers when others wouldn’t in order to make sure everyone stayed alive. But she yearned to be seen as someone reliable, someone heroic, someone that could change the world for a better one. She wanted Czernobog’s determination, Proteus’ strength, Gleipnir’s sound judgement, Time Scar’s optimism, and the people’s good grace. She wanted to rise as an Archangel and right her wrongs.
“Isn’t there any other way to be both?” Angel found herself wishfully repeating that aloud, even if she knew it probably wasn’t possible, as her eyes met Zoe’s. "I wish we wouldn't hurt ourselves like this, that you wouldn't torment yourself until driven mad by the burdens. I... don't want to see us wallowing in despair and end up..."
"Don't worry about me. I don't know if there's a way to be both, but..." Zoe smiled sympathetically, but she didn't know how to walk that line. After a long moment of silence, she spoke again, quietly at first. "Just try not to be a monster, alright? I don't want that for you. Being like that, all you get is fear. Anger. Disgust." A small, bitter smile.
"That's what people feel once they know what you really are." This wasn't really advice; if anything it sounded far closer to a warning. "You'll never get a happy ending. Never be able to hope for redemption. Anyone that doesn't leave gets dragged down with you, and soon enough you'll find refuge in the pain. The smell of blood, the sound of screaming: They're sweet perfume and beautiful music." And that was monstrous, no matter how you looked at it.
"Because the battlefield is the only place that people like you are any good to have around, and you'll never have a place in peace. Not when the only thing you can do is hurt. People you care about as well as ones you don't." At some point this had stopped being hypothetical, and she'd started describing herself. Calmly, as though it didn't bother her to think about what she was, who she'd become. As she spoke, she unwrapped the bandages from one hand, revealing her sliced-open knuckles.
"Even then it still won't be good enough to save everyone. Throwing away everything you are, everything you have the potential to be, won't mean you can always be there. So just-- think it through, Angel. That's all I'm asking." There was pain in the look Zoe directed at Angel, both pain at voicing what she was and genuine hurt at the idea of being followed down that path. "If there is a way to do both, then I'll do my best to help you find it. You don't deserve to end up alone."
Not like me. But the last part went unspoken beyond a flicker of loneliness in her expression.
It was hard to listen to what Angel could only assume as Zoe describing her inner turmoil. While those were burdens she had started to fear carrying around, seeing the other Aberration's pain was exactly what had set the Voice Mage onto this path. She couldn't bear watching someone close to her fall down deeper into this abyss.
Zoe was strong, to still be standing in front of Angel and counsel her despite all she was putting herself through. She had the opportunity of not being alone into this, but yet tried so hard to convince her friend to not go through with this plan. Angelique had realized that, despite all the bad things Zoe did, she could only sympathize for the redhead, even start to admire her. But it was clear that Zoe didn't want this for her, and Angel didn't know if she wanted to hurt her friend by going against her wishes.
"I... I promise I will. I just wish... that I could find my resolve back as easily as yours, and still find a way to become a better person."
Angel fell silent her eyes drifting between Zoe and the ocean. She had felt alone, but it had now dissipated when Zoe made it clear that she was there for Angel. But hearing her talk, the red-haired Aberration made it sound as if she had nobody to rely on herself. Angel wished to be at least that one person Zoe could find the comfort of not being alone.
"Zoe... I don't want you to be alone as well. I know that you already chose what you'd become and that you deserve it, but please, you don't have to be lonely. If you don't want me to follow you, then at least let me stand by you and watch your back. I want you to know that I'd be there if no one would."
Akin to Zoe before, Angel reached for the younger red-haired young woman and wrapped her arms around her for a warm hug. Thinking back to the words Zoe muttered in her sleep, Angelique found in herself some resolve to provide her friend a small shelter against the consuming darkness, or at least try to assuage it.
"If I can ease your fears and your pain, or at least just brush off this loneliness, I'll be there for you, just like how you are here for me. It's the least you deserve. It's the least I can do to prevent you from completely falling."
"...Thank you."
Zoe had instinctively tensed up a little at being hugged without warning, listening to Angelique's words with a hint of doubt. To keep her from falling? I think it might be too late for that. Nonetheless, after a moment's thought, she relaxed and returned the hug. There couldn't be too much harm in letting someone care for now. Maybe it would be fine to have someone that knew a little what she was actually dealing with. Even if it was only what Zoe had just old her. That, and she wasn't sure how many people would have Angel's back right now either.
And at least Angel hadn't tried to pretend Zoe was wrong. Knew that she'd made her choices, that she'd resolved herself to them, that she wasn't undeserving of the burdens she carried. It was hard to believe that the other aberration had offered to help anyway, that she wouldn't turn her back. And maybe, deep down, Zoe had needed to know someone would be there when they saw what she really was.
"Second chances, right?" For both of them. A small smile, feeling closer to losing her composure than she had been in a long while. It was hard to remember the last time someone had offered to look out for her, not without trying to change who she was. And Zoe knew, deep down, that Angel's task would be just as - if not more painful than hers. But in that moment, Zoe felt like they might be okay, if only for a little while. There were a lot of things she could have said. But it wasn't the time for them anymore.
After a moment, she chuckled affectionately. "Happy birthday, rockstar."
As if it had been a scheduled thing, one of the two black Dodge Charger Hellcats that was so often found missing in the garage from a few hours before noon to almost exactly 6 PM arrived at the mansion. Behind the steering wheel was Angélique Lachance, that same person who regularly took the vehicle for an eight hours road trip every day. Arriving at the garage she looked a bit morose, but it definitively was an improvement from the depressed state of mind she had been having throughout the week, before she spoke with Zoe on the day before today. It had done her good, although what they had discussed only gave Angel more food for thought.
Instead of sitting there depressed and lamenting herself over everything she had done and how her friends were abandoning her one by one, she had found herself to be pondering about what she should become. More precisely, the way she should achieve it. Zoe clearly didn’t want Angel to become the monster she was, but she was ready for that possibility and offered her support for whatever she decided to do. Eventually, what appealed to Angélique was a mix of both. She wanted to protect her friends by any means necessary, without however failing them as an ally, a fellow Mage, a Human. What kept Angel awake at night was not solely the thought of having made herself into a monster, but also the resolve of how to proceed between the fringes of the abyss and the ocean.
The raven-haired Aberration snapped out of her thought as soon as she saw Brent inside the garage, looking like he was waiting for someone. Immediately in her mind, there was a sense of urgency, wanting to drive backwards and return later. But it was too late to back down now, she had already turned off the engine.
Her hands tightened on the wheel. Memories of what had happened at the gym Monday were still vivid in her mind. Had he really been waiting for her to come back, so he could interrogate her some more? Sure, he wasn’t Ernest, but his silent judgement and quietly watching what had happened between Ernest and her without moving an inch had enervated the singing Aberration. She found his presence unsettling.
Angel’s face soured in anxiety, but she tried her best to not let it overtake her. Slowly but eventually, seeing he was not leaving, she opened the door and exited the car.
"Good evening," Brent said, pushing off from the wall as Angelic exited the car. A part of him had anticipated that she'd reverse and drive off again, but there was comfort to be had, at least, in the fact that she hadn't run off immediately. Better than before, perhaps. "Got sick of the island's scenery yet, Angelic?"
He smiled, turning his palms so that they faced her. Unarmed. Unclenched. He wasn't here for a fight. Just answers, as always.
Brent really did read Angel like an open book, didn’t he? Then again, if there was one thing she had learned from all her peers, it was that she was quite easy to read through. As a matter of fact, she was surprised Brent and Ernest had actually believed in her “I am a monster” fake resolve Monday at the gym.
While her face turned to Brent, her eyes behind the sunglasses looked elsewhere, at the door, at the floor, anywhere really. Anywhere but at Brent’s face.
“Y-yeah… can’t hog the car all day long. And I still need to eat.” Angel excused herself as she quickly walked to the trunk to retrieve her bags of personal belongings, her guitar and the cooler she had brought with her for lunch.
And while Angel was thinking of avoiding Brent, it was clear that he had been waiting for her to come back. Figuring she couldn’t evade him forever, she had no other choice but to be blunt with him.
“What do you want, Brent? Didn’t you have enough last time?” She asked, defiantly. Her encounter at the gym with Ernest had ruined her mentally for the next days, until she found a semblance of resolve back yesterday.
"A day trip every day?" he remarked as she unloaded a trunk full of personal belongings. No swimsuit though. Probably cause you can't swim with shades on. The small smile on his face faded quickly enough though, as Angelic's tone shifted. A little sharper. A little harsher. More to the point.
Was she getting somewhere.
"Did you choose this? Or is it just easier for you to? Looked like it was a hard question, so I was willing to give you a few days to think about it."
He let that statement hang in the air, before turning to door.
"Haven't eaten yet, right? For better or worse, your routine's clockwork, so food should be done now."
So he wanted to continue last time’s discussion? Angélique wasn’t sure she was so willing to come back to that whole deal. Her mind was clearer now though, thanks to her talk with Zoe, and Brent didn’t seem like he was aggressive about it. Not that he was ever aggressive, Angel noted, but that was something that had scared her at the gym.
“Can we… discuss about it somewhere more in private? I’d rather not keep standing here with my arms full for a hour.”
The mention of ‘clockwork’ brought back unpleasant memories, going from Wisford to Aaron, but it was in the past now. She still hadn’t made progress concerning his whereabouts, if she had even bothered making any. The more time passed, the more distant she felt to friends that had disappeared. Aaron, Savannah, Alexis. It was selfish, really…
“Yeah… I’ll be grabbing a bite. Maybe after, alright?”
She definitively was faring better than previously this week, from her tone of voice to her posture, even if she there were still cracks showing within her.
Hesitating. Still a few fractures. But there was no overpowering defensiveness this time. Whatever she did on her road trips looked like it helped out, at least. Holding the door open, Brent motioned her through.
"Standing there with your arms full for an hour sounds like good exercise, but yeah, go get some grub. Got a new line of gourmet corndogs lined up just for you."
He wouldn't give her assistance with the load. The arbiter hadn't pushed her through early morning training just so she could shirk from using her strength later on.
"Can’t have me start slacking off, huh?"
Angel wondered if Brent was aware of her daily late night gym visits? Not that she ever noticed him if he ever did, but he seemed to be pretty inquisitive when it came to her case. Or anyone’s, for that matter. Felt like he was the kind of guy who’d observe just about anyone. Him noticing her daily escapade routine kind of confirmed that.
Taking her time bringing everything back to its respective place, the Aberration singer then left her room to go to the kitchen. Much to her surprise, Brent wasn’t lying when he said there were corndogs just for her. With a note even. Shit, did he cook that just for her or was it actually leftovers dedicated for her? She couldn’t tell, but the plate on the table suggested Brent actually knew she was coming back from her trip.
Sitting down, the Voice Mage looked at the corndogs for a moment, scrutinized them. She looked hesitant. It was fishy. Not only the clearly homemade meal, but the whole setting. Why was he going that far for her, after she clearly kept disappointing him in every way possible? He didn’t put any weird shit into her food, would he?
“You better hope it isn’t poisoned or full of laxatives…” Angel remarked as she gave Brent a suspicious glance.
Biting into the corndog, it was clear that whatever he put in there, it wasn’t the usual fast food junk meal that she would buy at the supermarket or in any quick-serve restaurant. There was a melty filling in there. Cheese? It made the whole thing so creamy, so easy to chew and swallow. And the meat inside, it was no ordinary sausage. It wasn't processed, definitively nor pork. It had a back taste of… caribou? No, caribou was tastier than that. Deer? That felt like it. But who the hell would be putting thick slices of deer meat with melted cheese deep fried in batter? Oh, and the batter. It was so buttery, with the perfect mix of salt and spices, making the whole crunchy envellope so pleasing to the taste buds. The whole ingredients combined together into this delicacy was heavenly. Suspiciously divine.
What the hell was that recipe?
Why did it tasted so freaking good?
Before she knew it, she quickly devoured her plate. She wasn’t quite the slow eater, even less so when it was about eating good food. A bad habit she developed for working on her next set of songs without wasting much time on small commodities that was eating.
Angel feared for a moment that it was a cruel scheme or joke from Brent. To make such divine food, only to mix something inside that would make he rregret having tasted something so good. But she had to give credits where due, Brent was quite the inventive cook. It was to be praised really, from a modest cook like Angel was herself.
"I... didn't expect this when you said 'corndogs'. You should open an exotic restaurant, you'd make a fortune."
A brief compliment. Not overwhelmingly showing she loved the meal, but not cold enough to sound unnapreciative.
So this was the chef's pleasure, huh? Seeing a customer wolf down a plate within minutes. To witness a few hours work gone in the amount of time it took for instant noodles to cook. Though Angelic didn't ask for seconds, which may have been the ultimate compliment, Brent nodded regardless.
"Thanks," the arbiter said, "But I'm not that good yet. Basically cheated using my power anyways, so it's not like it took me decades of hard work to create this. Still, glad you enjoyed it."
It was designed to prove that corndogs could be gourmet, even if one was a rich girl that never even tried out McDonalds' before, but if it could appeal to the masses too...well, that's just great then! Still, the slight elation that came from Angelic not choking violently on the creamy white filling didn't distract him from the main mission: that of tying up loose ends.
"So, wanna head up to the roof or something?"
Angélique quirked up an eyebrow at the mention of the roof? Was it really a convenient place to talk? It sure was dramatic in the movies and comics, and certainly private enough because no one would think of a rooftop to look someone for. She didn’t figure Brent for such though.
Still, a first time for everything, she guessed. As long as it didn’t involve something bad happening to them while climbing the roof.
“As long as you aren't going to push me off, okay.”
Angel got up from her seat, bringing the plate into the kitchen’s sink then stopped a few feet away from Brent, waiting for him to take the lead.
"No promises," he replied, grinning. Unlike the hospital, there was no need to bust open a door, but unlike the hospital, the roof of the estate wasn't exactly flat. And thus, without a ladder or anything else, Brent and Angelic had to settle for the third floor patio instead, affording them a decent, if not amazing, view of the estate's ground and the stars above. Naturally drawn by starlight and the veil of darkness that they were embedded in, Brent's gaze shifted upwards, catching familiar cosmic entities.
Arcturus, Polaris, the Scales, the Crux, the Dipper. One by one, his eyes flicked to yet another formation. Despite light pollution, even the mist of the galaxy was faintly visible, an astral beauty only seen by those that looked for it.
"Well? Whenever you're ready."
It had been a while since the last time Angel actually had time to sit down and stargaze. Her life was constantly requiring her to be either shut inside a room all day long to work on a new song, or prepare for upcoming events. Really, the only time she remembered looking at the sky was back when she was just a kid, living a carefree life, in a small house in the middle of corn fields somewhere lost in some distant rural area in Canada.
This scenery evoked a time of peace, which was weird considering the current state of things. She had all the reasons to be worried and anxious, but the settling darkness and the stars above just made her feel relaxed.
Obviously, it took some time for Angel to answer Brent's question, lost in thought and clearly hesitant to reply. But her mind drifted to what Zoe told her, and the promise they made to each other. And Brent's patience allowed the young woman to ease her stressed mind and collect her broken pieces. In the end, his patience would be rewarded with answers.
"I still can't exactly answer you on that. Truth is, Brent, I was never truly convinced about it all. I'm willing to sacrifice my reputation, my dignity even, to the world if it means saving even a single one of you. But..."
A pause, a sign of doubts. The cracks revealing themselves on the façade she had created for Brent and Ernie's assault. "I'm still not sure if I want to end up alone. I don't know if someone like me can carry all those burdens without giving up. I'm not strong. I'm not Zoe. I'm emotionally weak. You of all people should know just how lacking my resolve is."
Angel's face lowered, biting down her lower lip. "I still need time to find myself. Ernest may be right about us X’s having made a mistake, but it still remains a choice we made. You remember when you told me "it's no use thinking of what would have been"? I've... been trying to forge myself a path into the choice I made, but I keep failing even at that. I just don't have you guy's strength of will. Hell, I can't control these destructive impulses without them driving me crazy after a while."
"I keep trying to find a bridge in-between, but I haven't found anything yet. I... still don't know what to do."
Surprisingly, compared to her past interactions with Brent, there were no tears, no trembling voice, no rage, no anger. Only a confused girl opening her heart and soul, plagued with uncertainty and doubts.
Half-hearted. Lukewarm. Neither wanting to strike it out on her own nor wanting to simply be loved and ignore the few sacrifices she'll be making for that affection. Was Angelic just like this? Someone who couldn't figure out what she wanted, even after sampling both sides? Someone so mired by her weakness that she could only fumble around, her morals, her ethics, her ideals shifting the way her stigma blows. She hadn't found an anchor yet. Still hadn't found herself a guidepost.
Amorphous, undisciplined. A black jellyfish floating in an aquarium.
He closed his eyes, internalizing that image. How did you stop a jellyfish from moving from one spectrum to another? Remove it from its tank? Spear it in place? Or...put it into a smaller tank?
"A question, Angelic," the arbiter said, leaning against the railing, "Between Allison and the world, what would you choose?"
Angel remained muted for a moment, wondering how Brent knew about her relationship with Allison. But asking that question wasn't what mattered right now, it was answering what Brent asked of her.
The world that so cruelly rejected her, but needed to be protected, or Allison who loved her even knowing what she did. A hollow love, still plagued by mistrust, but something that the two girls strived for, yearned even.
"I..." the question surprisingly was harder to answer than it should've been. What would Angel be without the world? What would she be without Allison? "I... can't choose both, can I?"
"This is a simplified version of the truck incident. Between Allison and innocent, but violent regulars, what would your choice be?"
Again, a lengthy pause. Words from different classmates this week replayed in her head. Ernest's hatred, Allison's distrust, Brent's disappointment, Zoe's warning. She kept repeating the key interactions in her mind, and eventually she had realized it. No one wanted her to be this way. They all, whether by expectations or either from a pure moral pont-ov-view, didn't want to see the fallen idol fall further into the abyss and become the monster her X mark represented.
"I'd do anything for Allison..."
A selfish reason, really. But that's what humans are made of, selfishness. The girl was one of Angel's only valid reasson to live now. She didn't know what she would do without her love. "That's why... I'd choose the world."
Because it broke her heart to see Allison saying that she didn't trust her anymore. "Because that's what she would want me to do. What you guys expect ourselves to be. What I should be doing."
"Then that," Brent said, "That's your anchor. If you don't know what to do, if you're been torn apart between yourself and your stigma, that's your guidepost."
A part of him disliked Angelic for choosing others over her loved ones. Another part of him recognized that her choice was different from Chris's.
"Until you know who you are, live for her. See what that path is like. Follow it consistently. No swerves, no doubts."
A smile broke out then, the same as always.
"It's not the healthiest thing to do, but it's something, right?"
“I… guess. Yes.” Angélique only managed to answer. “I… can’t make promises. They just seem too easy to break these days. But… I’ll try my best. No, I’ll do it.”
Until the end, one way or the others.
"See how it goes and all, eh?"
Brent paused, thinking.
"Oh yeah, you planning on going for a midnight rendezvous with her tonight?"
Angel felt her cheeks becoming red, obviously aware that either she had been going to visit Allison late at night in her room or vice versa to keep each other's company and have a good time together, and sometimes even stayed together for the whole night.
"Brent, gee, why do you need to ask me that?"
"Yes or no, Angelic? Let's keep this simple."
"Y-yes... I'll surely see her."
"Aight, I'll keep it low then."
And with that, Brent clenched his fist and gut-jabbed Angelic.
It was too dark to see what Brent was about to do, and she had lowered her guard enough around him to see that punch coming. It caught her square in the stomach, and in her surprise gave out a yelp of surprise as pain rushed to her midsection.
"God I... fucking hate... you." Angel staggered as she bent and clutched her affected area, choking the words out.
"Hey now," Brent grinned, patting Angelic on the back, "I warned you that it wasn't going to be a slap."
She probably deserved it, but given the situation they were in this week, and the fact that Ernie had already tried assaulting Angel while Brent only watched, she didn't so much feel it at 'no hard-feelings'. She would have rather taken that punch to the shoulder like boys usually do between themselves, or see it coming instead of a sneaky jab in the dark.
"You're an asshole." was the only thing that Angélique said as she recovered, replacing her shades over her scowl.
"Yeah, basically. Now go get her, rocker girl," Brent waved, staying in the patio. "The night's young and life's short, after all."
Letting out a displeased "hmph", the raven-haired Aberration stormed out of the balcony, returning inside the mansion. Definitively pissed, but with yet another burden taken off her shoulders in the end.
While Angélique had been gone from the mansion for most of the days everyday, it seemed like she could never get really used to staying inside. It had not even been two hours that she had returned from her road trip, she already felt the urge to be leaving the premises. The dark and brooding atmosphere that permeated the walls of the estate because of what happened Monday was making the Mage-turned rockstar feel uneasy around the others. If possible, she would have preferred to be left alone, but with a class of nearly twenty dysfunctional students, it was a hard thing to achieve, as the past few days proved to her.
Still, while she yearned to move away from here, she used the Hellcat enough for today. Instead, the raven-haired Aberration thought of taking a stroll in the forest, for once. Follow the trail and admire the scenery while she was lost in thoughts.
As strange of a coincidence as it would be, her path would eventually cross Sophia’s. A strange coincidence indeed, for Angel had rarely seen Sophia at the mansion. Being away from the estate much of the day, on top of Sophia not exactly seen much at all in general, the younger girl was a rare sight to the oldest member of Unit B.
While Angélique felt like being alone, there was something inside her that felt agitated upon seeing Sophia. She couldn’t run away from the others. She had already spoken with a few others despite her initial wishes and inner turmoil. And then there was the pang of guilt that grew as the young woman remembered about Washington, how much of an asshole she had been towards her youngest peer.
“Hey, Sophia. How… are you?”
Shit, those words and that faint hesitation really sounded awkward, especially when it was almost those same words that had triggered Sophia’s harsh words back in DC. Who knew that Angel would one day feel so tense for such a simple everyday greeting?
Five full days since their arrival at the estate. Today was the sixth. What had she done? What was she doing? Today was definitely a down day, but then, hadn't all the other days been too? By now the bit of excitement that she had felt upon getting Heidi back had all worn away, for though she loved Heidi, the cat couldn't solve everything for her. After spending the day cooped up inside with no motivation to do anything, not even to read, she needed to get out. Take a walk and try not to feel so trapped.
Evenings were her decided favorite time of day, that time when everything began to get dark but not dark enough for it to be too scary. When everything began to wind down. Previously much more tense, Sophia was beginning to relax into the cool air when words interrupted her thoughts.
She knew that voice. Well enough to be able to name the owner of that voice without even needing to look. And that was a bad thing. Sophia slowed to a stop, already tense inside although she made an effort to keep from tensing on the outside. Thoughts of what had happened last time came flooding in.
Shut the door.
Walk away.
Escape.
To put it lightly, Sophia was not pleased to see the girl. What did Angélique think of her now? She couldn't face the Aberration. She couldn't face anyone right now. Couldn't face anyone ever. But still, Sophia forced herself to look at Angélique, though she didn't so far as to attempt a smile. Instead, she gazed at her with a blank neutral expression, though her eyes seemed tired and... unusually dark against her skin. Trick of the light, perhaps.
She struggled to come up with a suitable answer. She wanted to ask Angélique why she cared like she had once asked Brent, but that hadn't gone well. She could retort, but she had no energy or fire for that today. Give her what she wants. Her mind flew back to go over all she had seen and heard of Angélique, trying to analyze her behaviour to come up with something suitable. She didn't know the Aberration well, but... at last her mind latched onto something that might work.
Struggling as usual to force out the words, she spoke quietly. "Hi, Angélique. I--it's been a lot, but... after sorting through everything... I think I'll be... okay." The last word came out as a sigh. Was that good enough? Enough uncertainty to show that she wasn't lying, but enough to reassure the girl that she was recovering from the battle? Not going to work.
It was obvious to Angel that Sophia wasn’t comfortable around her. She couldn’t blame her, really, after the animosity that sparked between the two of them at DC. They had both been under a lot of stress, and in their moment of panic they both exchanged harsh words to each other. Angélique had taken time to reflect upon that these last few days, and realized just how immature she had been towards the younger girl. She was the oldest of their class, she should’ve been the one to set an example. Instead, she did quite the opposite. Fredric was right about her, after the Flag Football match. She was an immature and pampered celebrity.
It was time to step up, stop being such an ass. That much she realized in the course of this week, after speaking with the others. Things have changed, mostly for the worse, but some people enlightened Angel about what she had become, what she was about to become, and what she is now. In the end, it was up to her to muster the will to make things better for herself, instead of blaming it all on what was happening and her Stigma.
“I’m… glad to know that.”
Another awkward silence. Truly, those two were poor at talking to each other.
“Listen, Sophia. I… I’m not good beating around the bush. I’m sorry if I’m too direct but…”
A pause, breathing in, trying to come up with the best way to settle things with Sophia without hurting her, or herself for all that mattered. It was already tough having lost Ernest and Brent’s friendship (and possibly Allison’s love?), she didn’t want to add someone else to her black list.
“I’m sorry for being such an assho- a jerk to you back there. Those were stuff that I shouldn’t have said, given the circumstances. I was being immature and clearly not a good teammate. I should've been more considerate. You went through the same pain as I did. I had no right to criticize you after what happened.”
A slight, almost inperceptable narrowing of her eyes was Sophia's reponse as she noticed how Angélique cut off a swear word to replace it with something milder. But she didn't remark on it despite how she disliked that kind of... condescending behavior, because Angélique was apologizing. Apologizing. Oh, how she hated apologies. Didn't like giving them, and most of the time didn't like recieving them.
Besides, after thinking about the incident during the past days, Sophia wasn't sure how much the Aberration had to apologize for. Angélique had only tried to make sure she was okay, and had even ended up getting her to help. It would have been more appropiate to save the "how are you" conversation till after the battle, but she could have just given a one word answer and moved on. Wasn't Angélique's fault that Sophia didn't like being asked those sort of questions. It had been herself who had flared up over so little, becoming that sarcastic person that no one liked.
Sophia's jaw clenched, portraying a hint of anger at herself.
But how was she supposed to convey all those thoughts to Angélique when she couldn't communicate properly? Her hand moved behind her back and clenched as an output for her frustration and anxiety, where the Aberration couldn't quite see what Sophia was doing. "It's fine." Those words came out curt. Too forced as she tried to get herself to talk. "Y-- It's over."
Angélique wasn’t good at seeing faces, given her natural eyesight problem, adding how obscured it was as well now given she was wearing sunglasses even as the sun had just begun settling in the horizon. However, her hearing was perfectly conditioned, trained even, for her years spent as a professional in the music. Not only was the answer weird, it seemed forced, even. Angel could not help but wonder if there was still bitterness inside Sophia’s voice, or if it was just a product of her imagination.
But whether it was because the fallen idol was now weary of being deceived by people who pretended they were fine with her and revealed themselves later to be people who actually hated her, or if it was because Angel was naturally straightforward, she couldn’t bear knowing Sophia had a grudge against her without knowing the reasons why. Ernest told her the truth harshly, Emma was tired of her shit, and Brent’s expectations had been constantly crushed by her ever-changing resolve. What was the reason Sophia hated her for? She wanted to know. Settle it once and for all and see whether she should leave the girl alone from now on or try to repair the broken pieces.
“Sophia… please, tell me what’s wrong. If there’s something I did that’s piss- angering you, I want to know. I… prefer to know if you hate me or not.”
Compared to DC, Angel’s voice sported no ill will nor frustration. It was calm, sorrowful even, a hint of disappointment when she was referring to herself. The ex-rockstar's face also showed just as much expression as her voice, although her hidden eyes could not reveal that she was looking away in shame.
No. No no no. Not like that. It wasn't like that. Sophia didn't hate Angélique. Apart from the argument they had had during the attack on DC, Angélique had done nothing wrong. And that was over. Though she would have thought it impossible, Sophia's current feelings plummeted further. She wanted to walk away so she wouldn't have to deal with this. But this Aberration here thought that she was hated, and Sophia had to change that. It wouldn't do to leave Angélique here like this. How, though? It shouldn't be too hard to think up the words that she could say... she hadn't been nicknamed EQ along with other things by her older sister for nothing. But that was when she was talking to her sister, the person closest to her. Not someone she barely knew.
Still, she had to try.
As Sophia internally ran sentences over in her head, cutting and pasting as if in a Word document, she was too aware of how, at the same time, her hands and face were heating up as her heatbeat quickened. Too aware of how the sudden increase in pressure on her resulted in shaky hands and a light head. So nervous. The hand behind her back loosened as her index finger moved rapidly by her side, subconsiously tracing letters and words.
She couldn't get it right.
Only think about how to show her her thoughts are wrong. Don't think about what she will think about you in the days afterwards. Think only about now. Now. If you don't do something now, it will be worse later. Better now than walk away without saying anything. She was taking too long. Just use what you have.
Sophia closed her eyes as she spoke. "I don't... hate you. And I don't want you thinking that. All... all you were t-trying to do was make sure I was okay." Here her voice dropped so low it was nothing more than a whisper. "And that's admirable." Something she wanted to do. Help. Reassure. Her eyelids flew open, showing dark eyes that were suddenly filled with conviction. "I don't hate you." The moment Sophia finished speaking though, she took a step backward. And another two more before she stopped. The girl was now obviously shaken up, though why would probably a mystery to any onlooker. I failed.
Shut the door.
Walk away.
Escape.
Angel was taken aback by the sudden show of nervousness. When Sophia’s words came, some deeper part of herself was relieved to know that, but her curiosity only grew as the questions only grew.
When the black-haired singer rose a hand as if to catch up to the girl that seemed like she would start running away from a monster, Angel stopped dead in her tracks, her arm frozen. At that moment, she realized it, or thought of it that way. Angélique was intimidating Sophia. Whether it was because of her age, her look, her height, her voice or her straightforwardness, the much younger girl seemed as if she was terrorized by the raven-haired grown woman. Even if it wasn’t probably what was going on in Sophia’s mind, Angélique believed she was the source of that anxiety.
Sighing, the Aberration’s arm dropped back to her side. She probably had done enough for today. Sophia clearly wasn’t feeling well talking to Angel right now. As much as she wanted to press forward, she should know better. Forcing friendship on people did the opposite actually. Angélique now knew Sophia didn’t hate her, which probably should be enough for now.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be so brash about it. I’m glad that you think that way.” Angel finally spoke with a grateful tone. “I probably doesn’t deserve your kindness, bit still… if we ever come to an understanding one day, that will make me only happier.”
Angel’s head lowered, looking back as if she was about to leave herself. She was considering it, if her presence was making the young Arbiter uncomfortable, then she should just disappear from her sight. But if she was to leave like that, she wanted to convey her thoughts to Sophia, should they never get the opportunity or the will to speak to each other.
“Truth is, I wanted to tell you that the one who’s most admirable here is you. You’re young, a few years separating from most of us, but you’ve handled yourself well out there, better than most of us actually even. Sure we could do without the sarcasm, but…” Angélique let out a heartfelt chuckle, remembering her first actual talk with Sophia in DC “I wasn’t being better myself, if only trying to give you a push to trust in your powers. In reality, you remind me of myself, if only quieter, but still with the same attitude.”
A sigh, quickly followed by a warming smile “You’re way younger than me, but I still make the mistake to treat you like a child. Zhang told us on our first night at USARILN, remember? ‘A child means nothing here.’ I think I’ve always tried to reject that, and being the oldest in our class was driving me to be a responsible adult and look after everyone. But look at what I did. I’ve failed to meet my own expectations, and maybe the others’ as well…”
Her warming smile turned a bit sour, realizing her failing may have had way more impact on others than she thought. “Point is, Point is, I’m glad that I had someone with her head on her shoulders for a teammate. I just wanted to let you know that, and I’ll be looking forward to work with you again in the future.”
Realizing her speech took longer than she expected, Angel scratched the back of her head, an embarrassed smile etched onto her lips “I’m sorry if I’m being an emotional creep on you. I should go before my weirdness makes you run away.”
Another heartily chuckle, however faintly touched with sadness as the Voice Mage turned and began walking.
Failed, failed, failed. The words were wrong, weren't they? Too quiet, too forced, which made it sound too faked. Sophia didn't fake herself. At least... very rarely. Only when it was necessary if she was to reassure or comfort someone properly. Like now? No. She meant it. Meant every word. Angélique killed all those people. But she had done it to keep off the regulars. It was far from the best solution, but surely Angélique knew that. Did the Aberration regret it? At least Angélique had done something. Unlike someone.
Thinking too much about the attack on DC, Sophia almost missed what Angélique was starting to say. Almost. Managing to pull herself back to pay attention to the girl in front of her once she began talking, Sophia heard everything. And it wasn't right.
Angélique was putting herself down, wasn't she? Trying to raise someone else up while critizing herself heavily. Too heavily. She didn't need to praise. Didn't deserve it. All that Angélique was praising her for wasn't true. She didn't have a level head, she just did nothing. To quote Matilda: she was hopeless when it came to a lot of things. Everything? Sophia suddenly wondered if there was a word that the Aberration constantly referred to herself with on the inside. Hopeless? Faliure? Weak?
It couldn't do, it wouldn't do. Just now Sophia had been unwilling to let Angélique walk away thinking that she was hated; now Sophia was unwilling to let the Aberration leave in such a mindset. You're not an emotional creep, Angélique. You have no idea. An inner wry smile. There wasn't enough time to think it through properly, she had to say something now. The words burst out of Sophia's mouth abruptly, calling after the Aberration. "You're not hopeless, Angélique." Bad idea. Good idea? Half of her regretted not letting Angélique just walk away, while the other half wanted the girl to turn around.
The older Aberration stopped after hearing her name being called out from Sophia. She felt strange inside, hearing these words coming out from the silent Arbiter. Had she misjudged her classmates, again? So many were so willing to give her a second chance, even if they knew what she did. What drove them to do such a thing? Was is pity, or compassion?
"Maybe..." Angel only replied, turning slowly to Sophia. "I've been hearing that a lot lately. But Sophia, do I really deserve this second chance, even though the world only knows the better half of our story?"
Second chance. Better half of the story. The evacuation slaughter. Of course that would be the topic of the week. Of the month. The Aberration had been given a second chance, by Sophia along with whichever others were being referred to. So Angélique should take it. Keep trying to improve. Even if she hadn't been given a second chance, she could work hard to earn one. If she was determined enough. That wasn't the point, though.
There were so many sentences Sophia could conjour up, ones that she thought could be uplifting, pessimistic, sarcastic, motivating.
'You might never be able to undo what you did there. But that's no reason to stop thinking that you can't improve. That you can't get better at prevention and protection combined.' Or: 'Well, then. If you think you don't deserve this chance, then that's it. I'm not going to stop you, go on and mope about how awful you are.'
She had continued this conversation when it could have ended, so it was her job to answer properly. But she couldn't. Couldn't. Just now she had somehow been able to speak, to start the conversation that was supposed to end with Angélique walking away feeling more confident. But for some reason, now she found she couldn't speak. Sophia's lips parted slightly, but nothing would come out. She was straining visibly, still flushed and shaky and taking breaths that were a little too quick to be normal. Straining against those inner gates that wouldn't let her out. She said nothing.
Had Angélique seen the signs, she would have probably inquired about Sophia, or tried to find a way to ease her. Or perhaps she wouldn’t have tried. She already did enough that would cause anyone unacquainted to her feel uncomfortable. God knew just how many people Angel’s straightforward attitude cause much unease.
The fallen idol wasn’t sure whether Sophia’s silence meant another awkward discomfort she had caused in the Arbiter, or if it was because the younger girl didn’t believe in second chances. Sophia had been trying to be kind on Angélique so far up until now, so it was more likely she had been making the girl uneasy with her self-questioning behavior.
Realizing it was probably time she let go of the girl and stop being such a bother to her, Angélique held up her hand, offering Sophia a waving gesture of goodbye. “Well then, I should get going. If you want to have a talk one day, my name’s on the door.” Angel offered the girl a smile. “Take care, Sophia. Have a good night.” she said before walking away.
Sophia wondered what Angélique took the silence to mean. Nothing good, probably. As the girl turned to walk away, she made no move to stop her this time. It was over. Angélique was officially now someone that Sophia had failed with. She couldn't blame her for leaving. What fun was it to stand there and watch a timid girl struggle to find words? Answer: it wasn't fun. What other choice had Sophia left the Aberration? Answer: none. No other choice.
She could have stayed and waited. The thought whispered through her head, even as she berated herself for even considering that possibility again. Stay? Hah. Of course not. No one waited. It was a waste of time, when the end result would probably still contain no words.
There was no response to Angélique's goodbye, only a silent mouthing of a word as Sophia put her will into standing still and quiet until the girl finally rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight. Then it was to the nearest tree, clutching at the bark and pressing against the rough surface as her chest shuddered with each shaky breath and sob.
She had drifted in and out of sleep throughout the whole ride in the APC, the events of the day having taken their toll on her. Even after sleeping a good few hours, she still felt tired. Was it really sleepiness, or just an unwillingness to wake up enough to face and sort through those past hours? Perhaps both.
Now back in her assigned and labeled room after taking a long shower to wash off the fine dust and debris that had clung to part of her body, she sank down onto the bed. Though mostly it was still exhaustion that clouded everything, there was the faint pang of hunger lying underneath. She knew she should go eat something, get some nourishment. Drink some water to alleviate the pounding in her head that came from not drinking for so many hours.
But she didn't want to walk out there again to navigate the hallways. Neither did she want to meet anyone. Or have to change out of the pajamas she had already put on and back into proper clothes. Sleep. More sleep would come first. And she didn't want to dream either.
For there was so much she could dream about. The mounds of crushed and broken buildings. The dead people. The people that had been killed by her classmates. The wounded. The monsters. The appearance of what must have been Cat's Cradle. She didn't want any of it. She wanted to go back and back until she was nothing but a little child in Arizona, too small to fully comprehend the existence of the monsters yet old enough to laugh and play. Or if that wasn't possible, back so that she would still be living with her family in New York.
But none of it was possible.
Sleep should come first. With a long exhale, she lay down, arms stretched above her. Then she wasn't in bed anymore. She was back, back at that strange ocean that stretched out farther than she could see. Again, she was floating above it.
She still didn't understand what it meant that she was here again. Couldn't pin point why.
Everything in this scene seemed the same as last time, so far as she could tell. Except this time, she didn't feel as much awe. More of it, instead, was confusion as she observed those strong waves, realizing that yet again she wasn't allowed to come closer.
When the droplet came, she grasped it tightly, holding it until every bit had sunk into her. Would it help?If she wouldn't have had that... vision before, Sophia might have thought that she had fallen asleep and dreamed it all. Curious, she sought for the magic that dwelled inside her, realizing that something had indeed changed. Last time she hadn't been sure if it had been a coincidence or not... but now... it was harder to say that the vision was not doing something to her power.
That something it was doing... was it good? Yes, if it could make her more useful. More helpful? Maybe even... stronger?
It was getting dark out by the time an exhausted Zoe made her way back to the mansion. The cuts on her knuckles had started to scab over, so after showering, drying, and a trip to the infirmary that had resulted in the bandages now wrapped around her hands, she decided she may as well explore the mansion itself. The luxury wasn't quite as jarring after their hotel in DC, but it still made her uncomfortable to see butlers and maids walking around as she made her way through the place. She didn't plan on asking them to do anything for her, anyway.
Luckily enough, it didn't take too long for her to stumble across the door to the cellar, which seemed far more interesting. And less likely to be haunted by servants, anyway. While she wasn't in the mood for a drink - she'd have gone somewhere else if she was - it wasn't like there'd be much harm in taking a look. Besides, she reasoned as the door closed behind her, she could at least take a bottle up to her room for convenience. Tired as she was, she barely even noticed that there was anyone else there, much less that the person who was there probably wouldn't be pleased to see her.
Oblivious to her classmate's presence, Zoe began to look over the selection of bottles with a yawn.
"Zoe? Yeah, that's you." Kusari grumbled from her place in the corner of the room. She wanted to be somewhere quiet, her nerves had been acting as if they were hooked to a car battery. The annoying part was she didn't know why. She stood up, picking up a juicebox she'd taken from the kitchen. Was she about to say something to Zoe? She supposed she was, they weren't going back to the school any time soon anyway. Kusari didn't feel like thinking before she spoke however.
"There's a lot I wanted to say to you, but I'm guessing you've heard enough from everyone else, haven't you?" She said, calmly drinking from the juicebox. Her eyes drifted towards the stacks of assorted wine. "I've never liked beating a dead horse."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Zoe couldn't help but start slightly in surprise at the sound of Kusari's voice, turning quickly to look at her supposedly immortal classmate. Her memory of the last time they'd spoken was a little blurry, but she was fairly certain that Kusari wasn't about to offer to start her fan-club. Or at the very least, she was still hung up on Wisford. It didn't look like Zoe wanted to have this discussion, but at least she wasn't as outright aggressive as she'd been at the girls' night.
"Talk if you want," Zoe had turned away from Kusari, picking out a bottle with an irritated sigh. "But try and get to your point some time today, raptor girl. I'm tired." Even if she knew that antagonising the arbiter probably wasn't the smartest move right now, Zoe didn't have the energy to be polite about it. The only reason she hadn't ignored Kusari entirely was because she respected the other girl's willingness to stand up to her.
Kusari sipped from her juice box again and looked down at her monstrous limbs. She was clanging her metal fingertips again. She wondered if she should try and cut them off. She'd only been able to restore a limb back to normal by keeping it and reattaching it, she hoped she hadn't lost her right leg and arm forever. She tossed the now empty juice box into a trashcan and let out a sigh.
"Again with that... At this point I'm more annoyed by your lack of proper anatomical knowledge." She was quiet for a short moment as she looked at the bottle in Zoe's hands. At this rate nearly all of them were going to develop a drinking problem.
"My point fire crotch, is that I'm not here to berate you for what you did to Callan, not anymore anyway. None of us have legitimate experience in combat, because of that stupid choices and mistakes are going to happen. Regardless, we can't..." Kusari let out a frustrated groan and ruffled her hair. "We need to get better, work together. Compared to the things we'll be facing holding a grudge for what you did feels like it would be petty. So, I'm going to overlook the fact that you mutilated the girl I've been going after, as long as it doesn't happen again. If we start fighting each other our life spans are going to plummet.
It took Zoe a moment to register everything that Kusari had said. Mostly because she definitely did not appreciate that nickname. "Okay, if you want to get along with me can we leave my crotch out of the discussion? Besides, how do you even--" Zoe paused, realising that Kusari probably didn't know anything about her crotch. With an uncomfortable cough, Zoe continued.
"Anyway." She placed the bottle back in the shelf after a brief glance over the label - she didn't really feel like getting drunk, and had mostly been trying to ignore Kusari. "Much as I'd like to promise nothing like it'll happen again, I don't really trust myself to keep to that one. So if I'm gonna be honest with you, I can say I'll try, but that's all you're getting. Doesn't matter what you feel about Callan or anybody else."
Perhaps this would have been easier with a little white lie. A bandaged hand gestured towards Kusari, Zoe's voice taking on a note that was almost taunting. Challenging, even. "Besides, what're you worried about? Thought you were meant to be immortal or something."
Suddenly Kusari was reminded why she was always so harsh towards people. She tried to be nice and she's mocked, taunted for it? And on top of that it seemed as if Zoe had no intention of promising to never attack her allies again. Kusari looked at Zoe's bandaged arm with a nonchalant expression. She wondered if Zoe could actually kill her. Oddly enough she wasn't frightened by the thought. Perhaps odd was the wrong word, it was disturbing actually.
"What are you doing?" Kusari asked her as if she'd just walked in on someone doing a strange interpretive dance in a clown outfit. "Is this how you treat someone trying to bury the hatchet? You pick it up and lodge it in their back?"
"Oh for fuck's--" Zoe sighed, irritation sparking but trying to keep her emotions under control. No, it was fine, it was fair for Kusari to be annoyed, it-- Wouldn't even matter if this one got hurt, would it? Zoe gritted her teeth. "I'm not trying to stab you in the back, Kusari. I just can't make that promise, like it or not. Would you rather I just lied to your face instead?"
"Oh don't get me wrong." Kusari said, looking Zoe in the eyes. "I much prefer the truth, no matter what." Her tone had turned deathly serious, as opposed to the calm passive one she had been using. "The thing is, just because you're telling the truth, that doesn't make the words coming out of your mouth any better. Honesty isn't much of a virtue when the things you're saying make you look like an asshole." Kusari shook her head, as if disappointed.
"We're all a bit of a liability in some way, aren't we?" She let out low chuckle. "I saw us online, saw myself. Conveniently the footage with me in it had no sound. I guess threatening regulars isn't exactly PR friendly." Kusari let out another sigh. The massacre that happened when a crowd attacked the evacuation team was also nowhere to be seen online. Zhang must have a pretty good mop to clean up that mess. She thought.
"You don't need to tell me that," said Zoe, recalling her new nickname once more. Nice little permanent reminder that she was a terrible person, that was fun. No matter how many animi she helped to kill, it wasn't exactly going away. "But you know what? You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not being an asshole, I'm knowing my limits. If it comes down to it, and the easiest way to finish things is for one of you to get hurt..."
She sighed, "I can't promise I won't give in. Especially after that evac shit, I'm not convinced any of you know what you're doing. It's not even the body count that annoys me, it's the fact that none of you can prioritise, and Wisford was the same." This was unfair. It wasn't Kusari's fault that Zoe kept thinking this way. Thinking about Wisford... How was she supposed to explain the smile that she fought to keep from her face?
"At least I achieved something with what I did. If you can't handle a group of regulars properly, then I'll probably have to cover for you guys for quite a while yet." Zoe looked oddly unnerved by the discussion, by thinking about DC. Because she wasn't sure if she was angry that they'd killed those people, or jealous that she didn't get to take part. "Learn how to finish your fights, and I'll stop having to do it for you."
Kusari just looked at Zoe for a few moments, Her eyes hardly blinking. She suddenly broke eye contact and looked off to the side, ruffling her hair. "Priorities... Learn how to finish a fight..." She repeated, then looking back to Zoe. "You're talking about me, right? Zoe, the only thing that stopped me from tearing apart those assholes in Wisford was a few minutes of time and distance. If I hadn't been picked as Lily's body bag I'd... ugh. Next time they should just bring a damn pig.
As for D.C. I want you to picture something. Imagine you're sitting in the back of a semi's container, Sophia and Lily are behind you. Outside are countless people that want you dead. Not captured, not simply beaten. Dead." Kusari's voice began to tremble, she let out a cough and forced it to stabilize.
"Five people opened that container, and there was bloodlust in their eyes. I know it, I've seen it enough times by now. Are you telling me you could have handled that easily Zoe? Five people ready to kill you and two other innocent kids? Don't give me some bullshit about scaring them off. I cracked one's head open after grabbing him with something that looks like it came from the bottom of the sea and they still came.
Her voice was trembling again, but instead of being able to calm it, her voice only raised in volume. "I beat the others until they stopped moving, and even after that they still wanted to kill me. I had to throw their fucking bodies at them like some savage monster just for them to finally go away! I... I... Dammit!" She swung her right hand into an empty barrel, shattering it. She fell to her knees trembling, her eyes watering. She thought she was alright with what she'd done. She'd gone over it again and again and she kept telling herself she should just brush it off. But she couldn't. She'd killed people, human beings. Strangers that she didn't know, people they she was supposed to be protecting. None of this was right.
"We were there to help, why, why, why. Why did they make me do that? That's not the type of person I'm supposed to be, that's not what I saw in my dream. Fuck.. fuck..." Her breathing had become unsteady. She didn't know where this was coming from, she thought she had it all figured out, but like always she was just going forward like a blind bull.
Zoe didn't go down to comfort the girl on the ground, but instead stood and looked down at Kusari with a sigh. Yes, she'd been talking about Kusari. Kusari, and every other one of them that didn't do shit to help. It wasn't as though there'd only been one person she needed to cover for.
"It isn't as though there's no way to knock someone down non-lethally, you know." Because really, with a regular she'd have a chance to take her time. What Zoe would have done would have undoubtedly cemented her as a monster where most of the class were concerned. "But yeah, there's every chance I would have..." Would have enjoyed it. A kind of hunger entered Zoe's expression, bloodlust that was never quite sated.
Must be different to deal with it without a stigma. Better, or worse? Zoe didn't remember well enough to compare. "They don't think of subs as people. We're all the same, no matter what you're trying to do. They were scared, and they couldn't do shit against the ones that fucked up the city. You were the nearest ones to blame." Zoe spoke distractedly, expression still hungry as her mind got caught up in images of exactly what she would have done in that scenario.
Kusari took deep breaths, calming her self. She looked up at Zoe ready to retort. She already knew why that crowd wanted her dead, but that didn't mean it made sense. She opened her mouth to speak but she stopped. That look on her face... She felt a chill that went not only through her spine but down to the tips of her toes. If she had been meeting this girl for the first time she would honestly believe she was about to be attacked. Kusari got to her feet and backed away from her.
"I've been wasting my breath." She said with a hushed realization. She took another step back. She didn't feel as if her life was in danger, but she suddenly didn't want to be anywhere near this girl. "That X on your throat is like a vice-grip, isn't it? You're more a slave to that mark than the cuff on your leg." Kusari didn't know everything about aberrations, but the longer she spent around them the darker her view of them became. She turned around and made her way for the stairs.
Kusari's statement was enough to snap Zoe out of her haze. Unfortunately, it was also enough to piss her off. The implication that she was nothing more than a slave to her mark, that she was something so pathetic when she spent so much time trying to fight it-- when she'd shed her own fucking blood to make sure that didn't happen? That was something she wouldn't just let slide, no matter how right it may have seemed to the others. It was wrong, it was so, so far from the truth. It was everything she'd been fighting not to be.
She turned to watch the arbiter's exit with quiet fury, fists clenched by her side. Screw it, if that was how Kusari wanted things then it was fine by her. "If I was a slave to my mark, Callan would be dead. Ernie would be dead. Allison, Gregory? I'd have killed both of them in DC. And you? If anyone here could kill you, it's me."
Zoe knew she should have stopped, should have let it go and moved on, apologised. But she didn't. Instead, she smiled, finally taking a step towards Kusari. "You know the best part? I'd look back on it and laugh." A bitter chuckle. "Trust me, you really don't know what you're talking about." Because no matter how much of a monster Zoe was right now, she knew she could be so much worse.
Kusari stopped in her tracks. For a split second she contemplated leaving now or saying something. It really only took half a second, she was too easily pushed.
"Do you want to be congratulated on holding back from murdering everyone? That you're just so good at killing things, even if your allies get hurt in the process? You know..." Kusari turned to face Zoe. "I've always wondered what type of person would choose the nightmare. I figured they may have made a mistake, or that it just looked different from mine, perhaps deceptive. Maybe that's true for some, but you... I don't know about you." Kusari walked back down the stairs and moved close to Zoe, very close. She grabbed her bandaged hand and placed it over her heart.
"Do you really want to kill me? You could do it you know, it's not like anyone would miss me, not really. I'd give it a week before they got over it." Kusari spoke in a quiet but ridged tone, her eyes glaring into Zoe's. "Come on, show me how you really feel. Do what you want to do."
Zoe's eyes widened, her breath catching. What? No, this was wrong, it was twisted, it was sick-- But the thrill that ran through her at the thought was electric. It would be so easy, so simple to tear her apart and break her down into nothing. Would it be suicide? Maybe, though she wasn't sure her stigma would count it as such. A way out, and the fulfilment of everything monstrous that she wanted, served up on a silver platter.
The sheer want was unbearable - Zoe wanted to hurt her more than anything, bloodlust etched on the redhead's face. Part of her couldn't help but wonder why. Why would Kusari make that offer? It didn't matter, because the chance was too good to ignore.
Almost without realising she was doing it, Zoe began to break down the arbiter's flesh, locking blue eyes with red and relishing the agony that she knew would come with it. She wished she could say what she was doing was horrifying, wished she could hate the experience--
Bullshit. She couldn't do anything but love it, and it showed on her face, in the tension of her muscles, the heaviness of her breathing. It was so much better, more real than hurting any slime or monster. Nothing like the empty shells at Ground Zero. None of the urgency of Wisford keeping her from doing what she wanted to. For those few seconds, it seemed that Zoe had lost herself, ready to give in and destroy her classmate completely.
"Please." She could forget everything, lose herself, see how much this girl could take. "Please, just--"
But just as she was about to reach that threshold, the black lines disappeared, the hand against Kusari's heart clenching into a fist as the rot stopped and Zoe's eyes squeezed shut. After a second, they opened and she looked at the rapidly-healing damage, slowly regaining control of her breath. The expression on her face was desperate, hungry, afraid-- torn between too many emotions to count. As Zoe finally spoke again, her voice was quiet. "Don't."
It was pretty obvious of course, but this was a terrible idea from Kusari. Her body felt as if it was being torn apart from the inside by scalding hot razor blades. It perhaps wouldn't have been quite as bad as is was if not for her magic. Her nerves should have died, nullifying some of the pain, but they kept stubbornly reforming. Kusari's body twitched uncontrollably, instead of screaming, she let out pained gasps and wheezed as she couldn't take a breath. Through her fading vision Kusari saw the look on Zoe's face. She really was taking a sick pleasure in what she was doing. She moved the claws on her right hand, she could barely move it, but if this continued for much longer she didn't know if she'd live through it.
But before she had to make that choice Zoe let her go. Kusari stumbled backwards, then falling to her knees. As her body healed it's self she took in deep breaths, waiting for her body to stop having minor spasms. Once the pain was gone she looked up at Zoe. The girl didn't seem to know what face to put on. Kusari let out a dry chuckle.
"So you really are being controlled by that mark." She said, standing to her feet. "But at least you know how to rebel. I guess that counts for something."
I'm trying not to be. The others were better than her. Stronger than her. If it had been anyone other than Kusari in this cellar, they would be dead. Zoe's words were shaky, her arrogance completely torn away for once. No, Kusari wasn't meant to be right, this wasn't how things were meant to go. Part of her wanted to run, part of her wanted to do it again. To keep going until Kusari was dead on the floor, watch every twitch, every gasp, every attempt to fight back.
It wouldn't be the first time, would it?
"I don't know." Zoe sounded frustrated as she looked at the floor, unable to meet the arbiter's eyes. "I don't know how to explain it, I don't know how to fight it, but that doesn't..." Yeah, it couldn't be faced head-on like every other problem in her life, but that wasn't an excuse for her actions. "It's not my stigma that makes my choices. I always know what I'm doing." Her stigma wasn't what made her a monster.
There it is. Kusari let out a sigh and her shoulder's relaxed. The look on Zoe's face was one she was hoping to see. It was a pitiable, remorseful, human face. "Aberrations really did get a bad deal huh? Everyone has that side in them deep down, at least I think so." She looked at the shattered remains of the barrel she'd smashed. "But it usually stays down..." She narrowed her eyes, thinking about the other aberrations she'd seen. They legitimately enjoyed giving in to their stigma, but why? What the hell was it about their marks that made them that way?
"Those marks, they're changing your minds somehow, trying to change you into creatures of base instinct." Kusari began pacing and rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "The things that make us human, our ability to show remorse, to do things contrary to our base desires because we know it's the right thing to do." She wanted to make sense of this in spite of knowing next to nothing. She couldn't understand why they had these marks, but she at least wanted to understand her allies, to stop them from destroying themselves and others.
"But we only do what's right because it feels good. To be seen as a good person, to feel pleasure from making a loved one happy. That's... human nature, isn't it?" Kusari stopped pacing.
"What if those marks are inverting that? I'd always figured they were just devils over your shoulders pushing you to do wrong. But they're really pushing you to do what feels right. Am I wrong?" She didn't know where she was going with this, she just wanted to know that everything would be alright in the future, that there was a way out for them.
"Yeah, it's a shitty deal. You're not on the mark though. Not exactly."
Kusari didn't really know what she was talking about, as far as Zoe saw it. But then, it was fair for her to see things that way without really understanding them. Zoe wasn't sure that anyone who wasn't an aberration would, when it really came down to it. Still, while normally the subject would make her go silent, she had just about murdered Kusari. Much as the idea made fear twist in her gut, she sighed.
"Do you want me to explain what it's like?" Zoe looked at Kusari, mentally trying and failing to prepare herself for the discussion. An offer she'd only made because-- because for all that she'd done before, this was the first time she'd tried to kill a classmate. "Because the only one I can explain is mine. They're all... personal, I think, in their own little fucked-up ways."
"If you can handle it yeah, I'd like to know." Kusari said.
"I was hoping you wouldn't say that, but... okay." Okay. Deep breaths. She'd never had to try and put it into words before.
"It's like... starving. There's a want-- a need that claws at me, and it makes my thoughts go bad. Imagining myself tearing people apart limb from limb while you're still alive and screaming. And I want to do it, more than anything. Especially to the people that I care about. It's always there, clawing and biting and wanting, until I hurt someone." Zoe was forcing herself to sound as detached as she could, but it wasn't quite working. "It's all about pain."
"Hurting someone, it's..." She paused, a light in her eyes as she imagined the sensation. "Think about the most exhilarating, adrenaline-filled, pleasurable thing you've ever felt and then ten times that. That's what it feels like. And it's good. All that want, all those thoughts, my fears, everything gets lost in the rush. Whenever I remember it, it forces me to smile, even when I want to fucking vomit."
There was bitterness as she laughed, gesturing to Kusari's claws. "If you attacked me with that thing, I'd probably enjoy it. Being hurt's good too." While it was happening, at least - it did little to actually sate her stigma unless she did it herself. But it was better to do that than let herself kill any of them. Zoe sighed, eyes firmly fixed on the floor. "Pretty disgusting, really."
Kusari's expression turned grim as she listened to Zoe try to explain her stigma. "Yeah, it is." She shook her head with a groan. "Unbelievable, you shouldn't be here. Forcing you all to fight is like enabling an addict. I doubt they've even tried to find a way to help besides drugging you up like Hazel." This was beyond frustrating, helping Zoe was something she couldn't do. "At this point the only thing I can think of that would help is killing Dreamcatcher. That thing started all of this after all. What kind of sick bastard would toy with people like this?"
"Not fighting doesn't help either. It's not just an addiction. I don't hurt anything for too long, and--" Zoe sighed, looking more exhausted than she'd almost ever been. There wasn't a way out, anyway. Not for her. This discussion wasn't much more than a reminder of things she'd already realised. "I snap. Somebody dies. Probably slowly. If I wasn't here, I'd have killed a lot more people."
"One little choice, and you're fucked in the head. I can't be sure, but I think most of the others have more control, or at least it's less dangerous when they lose it." Most. She could think of a couple who'd be worse to deal with than her, but overall death powers weren't the easiest thing to deal with safely. "That being said, I've come to terms with it. I'm happy to be a monster, it really doesn't bother me. So long as I can make sure you guys come out alive."
Zoe shrugged, seeming oddly calm. It had been the admission of her weakness that had been the problem - discussing it now didn't seem to get to the redhead. There wasn't really any reason for Kusari to feel the need to help her. "If the rest of you don't have to, then I've used this for something worth doing."
Liar. Kusari didn't believe Zoe was perfectly fine with how she was. Who was she trying to fool? She only accepted what she was because she had no other choice. "You aren't a monster Zoe." Kusari grumbled and rubbed her right arm."Monsters are irredeemable, they can't possibly understand the value of a life..." She thought back to the people she killed in D.C. She didn't regret what she'd done, they had decided to take the lives of people for an indefensible reason after all. Even still she understood the impact it could have. "You're still human for better or worse, just try and remember that. You could have killed me, but you didn't. Hold onto that part of yourself, because if you let it go you're damn sure to end up in a bodybag."
"I can think of worse places to be." Zoe muttered under her breath. Dead girl wouldn't be able to hurt the others. Speaking up once more, she looked at Kusari with a frown. "If anyone else had done what you did, they would be dead. You realise that, right?"
It was surprising, really, to have Kusari of all people reassure her. Really, Zoe probably should have known not to judge everyone from first impressions. "It's a nice sentiment, but I doubt most of the world would agree with you. Not even all of our classmates would." Callan sprung to mind. Sighing, she finally met the arbiter's eyes. "I think I'd like to believe you, though. And I'm trying not to be one - at least, not towards you guys." That could be enough. As far as the rest of the world went, well, who really gave a damn?
Kusari shrugged her shoulders. "As long as you try, that's all I'm asking. And of course I know that would have killed anyone else." She wiggled her metallic fingers. "That was kind of the point. At least I didn't have to stab you to get you to stop..." She let out a grumble, remembering when Sander nearly drained her dry.
"As for what regulars think, forget them. Even if we didn't have superpowers they would still hate us. The magic just gives them an excuse to corral us." Kusari let out a yawn and rubbed the back of her neck. She could feel another anti-reg rant coming on. "I'm gonna head to bed, call me if you need something... Anything besides someone to melt anyway."
It was true - they'd already been singled out by the normal humans of the world. Nothing she hadn't already figured out. More interestingly, Zoe wasn't the only classmate Kusari had been attacked by before? Part of her wanted to ask, but there wasn't much reason to keep the girl here longer than she already had. The offer was something that Zoe couldn't help but be surprised by, although she wasn't sure what exactly she'd need Kusari's help with. Nonetheless, she appreciated it for what it was.
"Same goes for you, if you need me. And, uh--" Zoe paused looking at the other girl in silence for a long moment before speaking quietly. "...Thank you. For trying to understand."
As much freedom as she could have anyways, with the guards standing a distance away, hands on their weapons. There was no maid around this time, perhaps unable to accompany her after telling her about this place due to work or the like. Even the grim faced men did nothing to curb her excitement however; the ocean wasn't something she saw everyday.
The feeling of sand on her bare feet, the salty air, and even the constant strong breeze around her. It matters not that it was relatively dark out, illuminated only by the moon and stars; all that matters was this new sensation. It was enough to make her forget about the chasing dream, the stigma that always threathened to overwhelm her.
Stepping closer towards the gentle waves, she felt an odd sense of accomplishment as the water ran around her ankles, darkening the hem of her skirt as the water splashed upon it. Feeling a little bit braver, she waded in deeper, before promptly being swept off her feet by a particularly strong wave. Panicking in the shallow water, she discovered another new thing about the sea.
Sea water in eyes stings.
Wailing pitifully, she started struggling harder to escape this oddly devious trap that lured her in with promises of new experiences.
Marcus had managed to find his way down to the beach finally, and while the dim illumination hampered how much of the ocean he could actually see, it was there. It was right in front of him - the smell of the salt, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the sand. He could have stayed here forever if he really let himself go. Just hang out on the beach, lost in memories; memories of happier days and better times.
He chuckled to himself, remembering some of those days. The first time Max and him had dared eachother to take surfing lessons. The amount of times Max went head-over-pinfeathers into the ocean when a wave caught her directly. The several times when he did the exact same thing because he was too busy laughing at Max. How pissed those instructors got because it didn't seem like the siblings were actually trying to learn anything.
It was a good time.
His reminiscing was cut slightly short, however. Somewhere, there was a sound slightly higher than the constant rolling of the waves. Was it an animal? Out here on the beach?
Marcus strained his ears, walking cautiously towards the sound as best he could trace it, eventually coming over a small dune and locating the source. A girl? Drowning in the shallow water?
Had it been a little lighter, he might have noticed the guards standing nearby, or the ankle braclet that would give him a clue as to this woman's identity. As it were, he simply approached the struggling figure, offering a hesitant question:
"Miss? Are you okay?"
A voice called out to Hazel, one that was very close to her.
Waving her hands around, she grasped his legs, pushing against the sand as she pulled herself to him, to safety. Unfortunately the sheer panicked force she did it with toppled them both over to the sands. Coughing out the sand and sea water from her mouth, she sat up on Marcus, her eyes visible underneath her bangs, locking onto his with a serious gaze.
"D-do not enter the water. Its poisoned."
There was a flurry of emotions floating through Marcus right now; and only a few of which he wanted to acknowlege. First and foremost was the big question:
"P-poisoned!?" Marcus stammered, shifting his body slightly to at least angle himself away from the apparent danger of the approaching waves. How could that even happen? Was this another one of DC's tricks? Poison the entire ocean and leave the human population surrounded by giant pools of death?
"What do you mean, 'poisoned'?" he finally said, looking up to the girl's eyes where they hid underneath her bangs. He shifted uncomfortably underneath her, disregarding her position on top of him for the more important issue of poisoned oceans.
Something about this one seemed familiar...he was sure he'd seen her before somewhere. She wasn't on their team, was sh-
Oh.
Oh no.
"It stings." She spoke, rubbing her eyes for a moment. "The water stings in my eyes."
No, that would not be enough to convince anyone. Even she, with her limited knowledge of things would not believe herself with just that. How would the water kill anyone if it just stings the eyes? No, there was another part to the trap, the lure itself.
"It pulled me. It moves and swept my feet from under me." Hazel spoke confidently.
"What."
It was not so much a question, as a statement. The water stung her eyes. The ocean swept her feet out from under her. The salt water ocean stung in her eyes, and the quickly moving waves knocked her off balance.
Had Marcus not known what this girl was capable of, he might have been angry at the expense of air he was about to use explaining.
"Miss. It's saltwater. It's not meant to go in your eyes, and it's perfectly normal for it to burn when it does. Also, the thing that swept you off your feet is called a 'wave'. It's when the water moves quickly and splashes onto the beach - it can definitely throw you off balance if you're not expecting it, but it is also perfectly natural."
Giving another uncomfortable, and this time slightly worried squirm, Marcus added: "Also, could you please get off of me?"
Nodding, Hazel stood up, gathering up her skirt as she stepped off him. Oblivious to what she was displaying, she started squeezing the water off her skirt, a slight contemplative look on her face as she did so.
"I see. So it was not a devious trap to lure me in, grab my feet and poison my eyes."
Flapping her skirt for good measure, she turned to the boy again.
"Are you here for the water too?"
Marcus brought his hand to his eyes as the skirt came up, starting to remember some of the traits this girl displayed, namely a utter lack of concern with explosing herself. Plus, if this was the same girl from the flag-game, she really wasn't worried about exposing other people either. A point that he made very prevolent in his mind.
"N-no. It was none of those things. It was nature, taking you by surprise apparently." Marcus said in a tone almost like disbelief, as he slowly stood up and became very interested in trying the wipe the sand off himself, rather than look at the flasher.
The sound of a question being directed towards him forced him to look up and acknowlege the girl. There was a pause as he contemplated even answering, rather that running as fast as he could, before he went with the more civil of the options.
"Yeah...it's...relaxing. At least to me it is; the methodic crash of the waves, smell of the salty breeze. When the sun is up, the sand gets warm beneath your feet, but when it's down the ocean brings a slight chill with it, just to remind you it's still there." He nearly sighed wistfully, almost losing himself in memories again, completely unaware to the fact that the poetics would probably be lost on her.
The sands... the sands were still warm beneath her bare feet, and the ocean had been there since at least yesterday. What an odd thing to worry about. Hazel stood there on the beach, far enough that the water only rushed around her toes. Still feeling that rush, that feeling of excitement, she stretched out a hand towards Marcus.
"Its still there. The ocean. Feel it for yourself."
There was a long moment of pause as Marcus eyed the hand. He looked from the hand, to the bangs that now hid the girl's eyes, and back to the hand. Like a stray dog trying to decide if the person offering it food was legit or not. After that moment had passed though...he gave in. He shouldn't have, but he did. He knew what this girl did, the things she was capable of and indeed apparently ready to do at a moment's notice.
Right now, she seemed like an avereage girl. Somewhat literal and a little lacking in world-view, but 'average' was a term that piqued his interest enough these days to look past it.
His hand grasped hers, the waves crashing around his feet, not quite reaching the bottom of his rolled-up pantlegs. "I know it's..." Marcus started in defense, before cutting himself off. Waste of speech that was.
"Yeah. It's still out there."
She puffed up slightly with pride over that, wriggling her toes as the next wave came in.
Now that Hazel wasn't running around in the water excitedly, she could see what Marcus was talking about. The sound, the wind, the mere sight of the sea and its smell. Not that she liked the fact it hurt her eyes, but if its not poison then she could definitely find a way around that. The sounds of the waves was certainly hypnotic, in a good way she feels. It reminded her of... of... .
What did it remind her of?
Marcus reliquished his grasp of the girl's hand after what seemed like an appropriate, yet slightly awkward amount of time. Still, it was humourous to watch her slowly fall into sync with everything he had just been talking about. The look of someone who was also lost in their thoughts. He smirked a little, looking at what little moon he could see.
"Really takes you away, doesn't it...? Marcus said, growing confused as he tried to put a name to a face. "...actually. I don't think we've met?"
"We did." She answered promptly.
Hazel could remember a lot of times theyve met, first at that meeting in that room with long tables, there was that exercise, and she was very sure he was also in that very fancy tower room they were in before it collapsed. Without hesitation, she listed off all the locations they have ever been grouped together.
Those she could remember anyways.
"I am still here. The water did not take me away."
Marcus sighed, giving himself a moment to run his hand across his forehead. A mental flag somewhere in his head changed 'somewhat literal' into 'very literal'.
"I don't think I know your name. And I also don't think I've ever told you mine. Hi, I'm Marcus." he said, in the tone of someone who was very bluntly putting their cards on the table.
"And that's n-" he started, sighing again. "That's good to hear. Wouldn't want you getting swept out to sea or something."
"You did not, and I do not recall giving you my name." Bowing slightly at the introduction, she gave an automatic reply. "Nice to meet you, Marcus."
Seeing as Marcus had let go of her hand, she waded in deeper, gathering up her skirt lest it got wet from the water rushing about her knees. Not that it would do any good; that horse had long bolted from its stall after all, considering how wet she was from that last tumble. Unable to really enjoy herself while holding up her skirt, she instead stripped off her skirt, throwing it back onto the dry sand. There again was that feeling, the same one that made her feel as if she could dance around in the water. It wasn't a bad feeling at all, though she was wary of jumping around when the water could sweep her off her feet.
"Hazel. I am Hazel Baker."
Hazel's sudden lack of clothing caused Marcus to bring his hands up to his eyes again, and illicited an embarassed "GEH!" from him as he did so. Right. The excercise. She had been the one who stripped there, too. He'd seen it on the television screen.
"Careful out there!" Marcus warned, keeping his hand covering his eyes as he felt his face cool down slightly. "The waves are stronger the further out you go, and you don't want to get knocked over again!"
"I see."
She remembered. Hazel did not want to be knocked down again. But if there was a risk that she might fall over again, she might as well keep her clothes dry. Or relatively dry. Taking off her blouse, she bundled it up and threw it neatly beside her skirt. Now she was free to face the water head on, with the only way it could harm her being her eyes. Having conquered the water, she turned to Marcus, still staying where he was. Was he afraid of the water? Wary of its grabbiness? Fear borne of experience, perhaps?
"Are you not going in the water?" There was a tinge of confidence as she continued, as if to allay his fears. "I have beaten the water."
There was another soft 'flump' as something landed on Hazel's skirt, and a quick glance at the matching blouse told Marcus basically everything he needed to know about what was happening right now. There was a naked woman dancing around in the ocean right now, without a care in the world, and she was inviting him in with her.
What would Emma have to say about this?
"N-no. I'm good! I just wanted to come enjoy the beach, not necessarily the ocean." Marcus said, still shielding his eyes from the nude form of Hazel. He certainly wasn't planning on parading into the middle of the water even before she'd gone out there - all he'd wanted was a peaceful walk along the sand.
"I see." Hazel turned back towards the ocean, stretching out a hand towards the light of the moon. "You hate me, fear me like everyone does."
It wasn't something she was unused to, nor was it remotely anything new in her life. Fear and hate was something even she could recognize quickly. After all, he wasn't brave enough to even look at her, cowering behind his hands. But why then was he able to approach her before? If he truly was afraid of her or hated her, wouldn't he be not even dare to hold her hands?
Contemplating on the issue more, moving her hand slowly to grasp the moon's image, she decided perhaps it was only outright fear and hate she could recognize.
"Or perhaps... do you hate my appearance?"
"What?" Marcus said in surprise, peeking indignantly from behind his hand, immediately growing flustered and hiding back behind it. "N-no. No. It's none of those!" he added, taking an extreme interest in the moon overhead.
"It's just that...most people don't just fling their clothes off and go skinny-dipping with other folk nearby. I'm...not quite sure how to react when someone just parades around me as naked as the day they were born..." he explained, eyes daring to drop to her eye level for a moment at least.
Was it rude to not at least wade out a little further? Especially when he was now being actively challenged on it, and everything was becoming a huge misunderstanding? Surely if she could just hang out in the nude without caring, he shouldn't care about it either, right? Was that how this worked?
Regardless, he hiked his jeans up a little further, wading into where the water came up to calf-level, the waves gently lapping around his legs. He still tried to avert his gaze though, daring not to look Hazel directly in the...nakedness.
"And I might be a little intimidated by you. I'll admit that much." he added quietly. "But that's just me knowing literally nothing about you besides your name and your actions."
The moon reflected in the water again, shimmering slightly. Hazel had reached for it, as if trying to pluck it from the sky and save it.
"What's it remind you of?" he asked, trying ever-so-subtly to change the subject.
"I understand. Everyone fears me, hates me for what I can do. It does not matter to me." She turned to look at him. "I'm just a weapon, made to destroy and be destroyed."
There was a moment of silence as she contemplated his words, with only the rhymic sounds of the waves crashing upon the beach accompanying them. Finally, she answered, though there was a tinge of uncertainty in her voice.
"I do not know." Hazel blinked. "Her laugh. I said the moon was cheese..."
Almost instantly, she clapped her hands over her ears, crouching down in the water, enough so the water rushed around her body. Voices, memories and images started to press in on her, rushing through her mind as she started reciting random strings of words and numbers to herself in a low voice to allay them. Judging from the intensity, it would not be long before she needed an outlet.
"Nono. You're not-" Marcus started, sighing angrily. It seemed like he was having this discussion a lot recently, about how they weren't just toys to be thrown at a problem until either it or they were dead. They were human beings, goddammit. Why was he the only one who was still willing to accept that? That they deserved to live and die as more than tools?
"You're not just made to be destroyed. We're all here to live our lives, no matter what we are." he said, a slightly pleading tone hiding underneath his exasperated one.
His frustration ebbed a bit when Hazel mentioned laughter. That was something that he could use a little more of nowa-
She dropped.
Well, Hazel didn't actually drop, but witht the scene presented before Marcus, she might as well have. Something was hurting her, or at least it seemed that way, there wasn't anything that Marcus could see as he splashed hurridly over to her assistance.
"Hazel! Hazel, are you alright?" he asked nervously, kneeling next to her. She was muttering something to herself, some sort of gibberish that Marcus couldn't understand, in what seemed to him to be distress. "I'm right here, Hazel. Are you alright?" he repeated, trying to get some sort of answer out of the girl.
She stood up abruptly, seemingly back to normal, though oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I need to go."
Slowly, she waded back towards the shore, gathering her clothes. Her movements seemed oddly tense and jerky as she flapped off the sand of her clothings, her breathing rough and ragged, as if she was holding back something. As if Hazel just thought of it, she turned towards Marcus and nodded.
"Thank you. For your concern."
"Are you sure you're alright?" Marcus asked, still standing where Hazel had been curled up, confusion in his face as he stared at her.
Nodding, she grabbed her clothes and ran away.
"Wait! I'm sorry.....that I was afraid of you." Marcus shouted, trailing off as he watched her form disappear into the night. She didn't seem at all like she had during the Flag game, and it was hard to believe that a frolicking naked girl could warrent enough damage to authorize a 'shoot immediately' warning.
They were an odd bunch, and it seemed like he was learning new things about them every day.
There was probably some life-lesson here, but as Marcus waded out of the water, looking up at the moon, he was damned if he could think of anything inspiring.
It wasn't exactly a question that needed an answer. Lawrence was here because he had to be, it was no more of a mystery than that. He had always expected to become a staff mage, but it was looking more and more like that option had been eliminated from his future. USARILN was determined to keep him with this team, in spite of both his lack of ability and their lack of desire to have him around.
It was the latter though that seemed to gnaw on him the most.
Sprawled out on his bed with Lizzy laying over top of him- the dog had seemed far more attached to him since arriving on the island, and he welcomed the company- Lawrence slowly traced a circle around his chest where the hole that almost killed him once was. Ironically it was one of his only injuries over the past year that hadn't left a scar- with more minor ones having been treated the old fashioned way. Something about that felt like it cheapened the experience somehow, but he wasn't exactly liable to forget about it without a visual reminder.
In truth though, dying only somewhat bothered him (In fact, feeling that ocean of power trickle into him once more during the experience bothered him far more). It was something he was resigned to with every mission, even if he would prevent it as much as he possibly could. However, it had made abundantly clear how much of an outsider he was in this team. How many of them had visited him as he recovered? It seemed that nobody had bothered to approach him for advice or even a chat since his injury had healed. All the while they continued to meet up with each other and tried to forge bonds outside of their missions without him.
Was he really the least desirable person here?
It had been eating at him more and more over the past week or so. If the others were all getting together in their spare time, then it meant the problem rested with him. Sure, when it was his own class the distance between them had been bearable, there had been Elizabeth to wash away any loneliness. After her death, the time alone had become a comfort to deal with his grief. However now...
Now his grieving had mostly passed, and Elizabeth was still gone. All that remained was the loneliness.
Solid stoicism, neutrality, and a distance from others had pushed everyone away too far, and now even if the others didn't need Lawrence, he had need of them. He hadn't died, and now his life needed to be filled with something. Otherwise he might end it himself eventually. So here he was in his room, trying to at least partially break down that mental wall he had set up, and for the most part failing. Each time cracks began to show, an uncomfortable flood of stress threatened to break through, and he closed them up once more. He needed something to replace that coping mechanism, and while others may have thought he'd caught a cold lately the lingering scent of cigarette smoke betrayed a different cause for his coughing fits.
It hadn't been working out so far, and he was almost committed to ending the idea and trying to move on as he always had.
Idly he glanced at his phone, one of his most neglected possessions. After all, who had tried to call him over this past month? Still, he noticed a small icon in the upper corner of the screen that he was unfamiliar with. And upon further inspection saw;
Unread Texts: 45
Missed Calls: 7
Huh.
And as if on cue it began to buzz for an incoming call before he could even check any of his backlog. Quickly he pressed answer and put it to his ear.
“Lawrence.”
"Finally!" Rosa's exasperated voice on the other end of the line was loud--even louder than the woman's usually chipper, exuberant volume. "I've been trying to reach you privately ever since Wisford! This isn't talk for the cuffs and I know you weren't unconscious the entire time--do you have any idea what's been happening with that group?"
At the mention of Wisford Lawrence grimaced on the other end of the line and paused, looking to Lizzy as if she could somehow help him during this conversation. As if sensing his motives, she turned her face away with a huff and pretended to fall asleep on top of him.
With a sigh, he finally responded;
“Vaguely. Is that what you're calling me for? A status update?”
"Yeah, a bit! You're supposed to be watching out for them--or at least not letting them kill over sixty civilians in a fit of panic! I realize ever since Elizabeth you've been less than involved with anyone and anything, but at least pretend you have powers, Lawrence!"
“I've offered them my help Rosa, none of them have decided that it's needed and I sure as hell can't force them to accept it. If you're asking me to use my power to manipulate their free will-”
He was beginning to grow angry at the conversation in very short order, raising his volume to match hers.
“- I didn't sign up to be your mind rapist Rosa, you or Zhang! You want to force them to stop then use the goddamn anklets you fastened to everybody!”
Lizzy lifted one ear slightly at the outburst but otherwise continued with her charade. More quietly Lawrence continued;
“If you think I want to let people die Rosa you're more wrong than you've ever been- but I'm not going to force this team to do anything, they need to...”
What exactly? He trailed off, uncertain. It was the same problem he'd been working at since his injury without an answer.
"They are waaay too inexperienced for some of these situations and you know it! Helping someone calm down either with words or with your power would have done wonders, but if you want to call every instance of helping potential rape I guess that's that, huh? Wisford was one thing, but DC was entirely unprecedented and that's where they needed you most, even if they didn't ask for it! These are excuses, Lawrence. You know why you're on this team!"
Don't act like I'm shirking some kind of responsibility. You forced me away from my class and shoved me with these guys expecting me to babysit them- so pardon fucking me if I haven't stepped into the role.”
With that he ended the call in irritation and tossed the phone across the room- noting with annoyance that it didn't break. Still, if he was trying to seal up any cracks they were thoroughly leaking now. Grabbing the half empty pack of cigarettes on his nightstand, he soon descended into another fit of coughing as the foreign smoke entered his lungs. Supposedly they helped people with stress, but he was having a hard time seeing how.
In the corner his phone buzzed once more, and Lizzy lifted her head to look at it. Turning her gaze from the device to Lawrence and back again, clearly judging. He was tempted to answer it once more, but was far more tempted to avoid it.
“Get off.”
He growled at the dog, and stood up as soon as she'd hopped off of him and the bed. No, instead of answering the phone he'd go for a walk. His lungs needed some fresh air in them after his attempts to pick up a new habit, and his stomach needed some coffee in it.
It was nice to be down on the beach during the day, and especially when he could actually enjoy it without the threats of Hazel absolutely destroying him.
The warm sand shifted appealingly underneath Marcus's bare feet as he walked along the shore, occasionally picking up a flat rock or a nice seashell and trying to skip it across the waves. He'd always been told that a flat surface worked better for rock skipping, but the ocean was rarely ever flat, which made the whole concept slightly more difficult for him. He'd seen Max get some decent skips out of a few rocks before, but she'd neglected to share her secret in favor of being the 'Howell Rock Skipping Champion'.
God, she was such a pain in his backside.
He chuckled slightly to himself as he threw another rock, frowning slightly as it disappeared directly into the white peak of a poorly timed wave.
Chris had been walking over the sand of the beach and had been wearing swim trunks for the occasion. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted that class clown throwing rocks into the water. There was a pause of thought as Chris wondered if he should give that kid what he deserves. He wasn't really looking for trouble, but even still, it was difficult not to suppress the urge to at least give him a punch or something. The dragon-arbiter walked slowly towards Marcus from behind; hands in the pockets of his swim shorts, and feet moving in hushed footsteps across the soft sand.
Once he was close enough, Chris lifted his leg and pressed it onto his back. Since he knew he could just rewind the injury he didn't bother to hold back on force either, but had more intent to use that force to shove him into the wet sand and water rather then focus on bruises.
Marcus was too busy looking around on the ground for another rock to notice the approach of Chris. As he bent over to pick up what he thought was a perfect skipping stone (but was in reality just a sand dollar), something pushed into him from behind, easily toppling him face-first into the sand. As if to make matters worse, a small wave splashed over his face as soon as he fell, soaking over his head and causing him to come up spluttering.
He took a moment to wipe the saltwater and sand from his eyes, still sitting in the surf as it soaked him. Of course, what he saw didn't exactly please him...but perhaps it wasn't the worst thing at the moment. He could use an outlet.
He scoffed once, standing to his feet and brushing sand off himself, his hair still dripping. "Coming up behind me on sneaky little komodo feet, huh Scales?" he started, making a grand show of wiping the sand off his pants. "If we're going by last meetings formula, I think that means..."
He didn't finish his sentence. From where Chris was standing, Marcus was still bent over brushing himself off, the sound of static fading into existence. From Marcus's perspective however, he utilized his surprise factor to his full extent. One fast-forward, and a sucker punch straight across the jaw, before he stopped in the same spot he'd started, arms crossed.
"...I would get the first punch this time."
He had his arms crossed as he wasn't expecting him for such a fast jab. Frankly Chris made the mistake in thinking that Marcus was all dodge no punch, but sure enough his unexpected blow to face caused him to step back and nearly lose his footing. Blood was drawn, dripping from some part of his lip as he drew a finger to inspect the stingly numb bruise.
Well since he was going to use his abilities, it would only be fair Chris returned the favor. Draconic scales grew over his arms and parts of his face and torso; He immediately went to deliver the same back-handed blow reinforced by the iron-like scales with his left arm. Once again attempted to predict his rewind, His right hand readied into a fist as he imagined through his head the first blow would phase through him or something like that, and assuming Marcus would stay in relatively the same spot after avoiding or undoing the injury he would be prepared to punch his gut. A strategy devised of a still poor understand of how exactly Marcus's time manipulation worked.
The scales again. This was a little show Marcus had seen once before; apparently this kid was a one trick pony. If their last meeting was any indication, he was about to get bitch-slapped right across the face.
Fortunately enough for Marcus, he learned from his mistakes. He employed the simple strategy referred to as 'ducking', narrowly avoiding the dragon-scale backhand as it breezed over his head.
"That one agai-?" Marcus started, only barely getting his hands in front of Chris's follow-up before it socked him directly in the stomach. The impact stung Marcus's hands a fair amount as it impacted, and forced him to take a step backwards. It did not however, stop him from opening his stupid mouth.
"That's not how this script goes at all. I should be getting pissy and trying to feed you promise-daises now, shouldn't I? Or am I remembering incorrectly?"
He shook his hand a little bit as he spoke, as if he was trying shake off the stinging pain that was slowly fading.
Chris was a bit surprised that Marcus resorted to ducking instead of warping or whatever it was Marcus was able to do. Even more so when he tried to block his ambush. He stepped back at the same time his fellow arbiter did, his face far more serious and...observational. He was trying to observe that shitstain's expression. Was he holding back on him? Had Chris gone in a bit too far?
That concern was washed away with his remarks however. Chris spat blood to his left before replying. "Do you ever shut up?" There was a small desire to breathe flames upon the bastard, but Chris didn't want to kill him. He had no intentions of murder, despite how annoying Marcus was, he was still a teammate. To him this was just to vent his frustration and to assert dominance in a way, a feeling of foolish pride that clouded his judgement. Was it the dragon guiding him to such stubborn and foolish choices or was it the inner demons that still haunt him in the corners of his conscience?
He didn't know, or rather, he didn't care. All he was interested in right now was fulfilling his primal desire of punching Marcus square in the face. Chris kicked sand up into the air and, hopefully, into Marcus's field of vision; With his attempt to blind his opponent he immediately dove to kick him without bothering to even checked if his initial tactic had worked.
"No. I don't. Clown and all. Honk honk, Geico." Marcus said, watching for any sort of incoming attack. What he got was...sand? The kid was kicking sand at him? It was mildly effective; Marcus focused himself on the few grains that landed on his face and around his eyes, wiping those off almost reflexively.
Something hard impacted his chest. Almost in slow-motion, Marcus identified it as the two feet of Chris, who had just planted a dropkick firmly in his center mass. All of his breath left his body, and he went sprawling across the beach, struggling to refill his empty lungs. Static again, but a rewind this time.
When he found himself back on his feet, Marcus had to take a second to locate his foe, who was now behind him.
The moment Chris landed he moved to get back into a stance. For a second he was confused that Marcus wasn't in front of him, but a quick deduction made it evident that he must be behind him due to his powers. He wasn't sure if he should keep pummeling him, so the scaled arbiter turned back around to face him and leaped a bit back to get some distance, once again trying to study his opponent.
"Had enough yet you piece of shit?" He spat another few drops of blood before wiping his bleeding mouth with his wrist.
"I'd say 'I'm just getting started', but let's be honest here; that's a little bit cliche, don't you think?" Marcus said, watching as Chris backed off a fair amount.
"Picking flowers and throwing sand? You really are a child, aren't you? Is that what this is? A temper-tantrum? Mommy Siena didn't put you down for your nap?" he taunted, watching for a reaction from the kid.
Each remark Marcus made only reminded Chris of how much he wanted to pummel that brat. There was no direct response, no choice of words. Just silent anger evident by clenched fists and a burning glare. Anger, no, rage pumped through his blood. He thought he had felt his own draconic shadow encourage further violence. His hatred towards the time-manipulating arbiter was not like his anguished rage to the monsters he wanted to exterminate, but rather of something more like an animal frustrated with a rival male.
A primordial, territorial instinct. Marcus was like him, a subnatural forced to be on the same grounds, yet his demeanor was an assault on Chris's pride. He felt that he needed, or rather, was justified in teaching Marcus a lesson; Even though that if he was distant to this conflict he'd see himself as the antagonist.
Bring out your true form and show him terror. His own voice encouraged in his head, as if he had forgotten in that moment that he was even human. People like him only hurt the unity of a team, no one will miss him.
He was still far from actually falling down that path, but Marcus's taunt worked, Chris was infuriated. He lunged forward with arms fists ready to jab at his torso, but as he lunged flames started to trickle out of his lips as he seemed to be holding his breathe.
Perfect. As intended. Marcus stood at the ready, watching his opponent get closer, and closer, and just ready to punch him when he struck. He'd noticed the flames seemingly dripping from Chris's mouth. He didn't like fire - his arm seemed to twinge as he contemplated that fact. If Chris were willing to use something like that on him - well, he'd just have to see what kind of damage he could force Chris to do to himself.
Another fast forward, this time placing himself as far behind Chris as he could in eight seconds, but with the added benefit of another sucker-punch. This one he aimed directly for the center of his mouth, just to see if he could force the dragon-mage to swallow his little fireball.
The countdown in his head ticked slowly. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to distract him until he could get a few more shots in.
There was another unexpected blow as Chris was punched straight in his mouth. However instead of having it retreat back into his gut he opened his bruised lips to let out the trail of flames. The punch had made him miss is initial mark but he kept the breathe going as he turned his head to travel a bit, the flames ended just as they grazed his leg.
The gout of flames surprised Marcus. They surprised Marcus even more as they traced a long semi-circle around the beach, finally ending at-
Burning, searing pain, and then nothing. An awful scream that pierced the calm sound of waves as they crashed along the shore. The meaty smell of charred skin as his leg no longer supported his weight below him and he fell. His body was cold, despite the fire. He knew this sensation.
He was trapped. His own roof burying him alive. He'd decided to leave seconds too late. He'd realized that there was nobody was coming to save him - if he were going to survive this, it'd be by his own actions. The same actions which had him frantically clawing at shattered wood as the splinters tore his fingers apart. The wooden timbers were growing hot. Too hot. His arm. He could feel the skin sizzle and pop, and then nothing. There should have been pain, but there was none. Why didn't it hurt? Something smelled like roasting meat. How much time did he have left by the time he crawled out? How close was he to...
Even though he told himself not to, he looked down. There was no pant leg. A large section of his skin was charred. He could see the burned pink of muscle beneath the oozing crimson that was rapidly staining the sand. His body was shaking. He was going into shock. His last rewind. He grasped for it as his mind started to dull. Static. He begged a deity he didn't believe in for the sweet sound of static, as the warmth of tears started to drip down his face.
He was behind Chris again. He'd managed to rewind before he'd punched him the second time, and more importantly, before he'd been cooked like a damn marshmallow. His hands still shook despite the lack of pain he felt, and there was an odd feeling of emptiness now that the adrenaline had forcibly been removed from his system.
Still. He was sane enough to make a decision. And that decision was to beat Chris's ass. He aimed a sharp kick directly at the back of his knee, aiming to grab the back of Chris's head and force his face into the sand if he went down even slightly.
For a second there was a bit of a moment of realization that Chris himself had actually nearly fried one of his teammates. How far was this going to drag on? Did he really get so angry that he nearly killed his fellow peer who's only crime is being an annoying bitch? There was some sense of trauma, his focus left Marcus and to his hands as if he couldn't believe he had just done that.
you monster
Fortunately for the both of them Marcus had rewound to undo that grave injury, and delivered a sharp blow to his knee, causing him to fall. His fall was cut even shorter when the back of his head was gripped onto as he sent Chris's face into the sandy earth by the time arbiter, who was now practically as enraged as Chris was.
There was a moment of stillness. Mostly because Chris was still in shock about the whole fire incident. He didn't bother to retaliate at that moment, he allowed Marcus to beat him down due to his sense of justice.
"WHAT. THE FUCK. IS YOUR PROBLEM?" Marcus yelled, punctuating each portion of his sentence by yanking Chris's head up by the hair, just enough to force it back into the sand. The soft, cushiony surface of the beach made the whole ordeal very unsatisfying, but Marcus wasn't exactly focused on that much right now.
Several times he remained still to allow Marcus the satisfaction of beating his head against the soft earth. His bruised mouth was now full of sand and most of the ringing pain in his head felt numb. Once he decided that enough was enough, Chris suddenly lunged up with energy and gripped Marcus's wrist firmly. The fight could have continued, but at this point things would only get worse if they did. Chris couldn't come out of this fight as a victor, even though his pride demanded otherwise, he was about to continue a fight he already lost; A fight not by strength but by virtue. Even against a fellow arbiter Chris's anger led to another stupid and primal decision.
"No more, if we keep going like this at least one of us will be dead." As much as he wanted to punch him across the mouth, Chris's anger was held back, constricted, in his own sense of order.
"I wasn't aiming for 'death', but 'unconscious ' wouldn't be such a bad thing!" Marcus muttered, attempting to jump up and headbutt Chris in the face. A clumsy maneuver, given the slight height difference, but he was trying anyway.
Chris struggled a bit with his attempt to pursue an attack. Still, he managed to hold him back enough to push back, despite him wanting to shove him into the sand himself. "There is no need for that, you already won."
"Clearly I haven't, because you're still bitching at me." Marcus said, struggling to escape from Chris's firm grasp on his wrists, this time bringing his leg up to try and give Chris a swift kick to the stomach.
Having been on the defensive, Chris caught his foot. And his hands not been partially armored they'd probably would have been bruised from the blow. "No, I lost already. I made a stupid decision out of anger, I lost control, you didn't." He dropped his foot. Chris defensive stance slowly lowers, arms fell to his sides. "I apologize for getting carried away, I don't expect forgiveness, but I'm not going to pursue this fight anymore. As the victor you are free to seek justice upon me, I won't fault you for lack of mercy."
Marcus looked Chris dead in the eye as he dropped his hands, trying to find the intent behind all of this. He was seriously giving up out of some sense of 'justice'? He'd lost because Marcus hadn't reacted hastily? What kind of white-knight bullshit was this?
Marcus socked him once in the stomach, as hard as he could, giving an angry half-shout as he did. He threw his arms in the air immediately afterwards, angrily grumbling. "Goddammit. You know how to ruin a perfectly deserved beating, you know that? You think beating the shit out of you is going to make me feel better just because of your wounded sense of 'juuuuustice'?" Marcus said, emphasizing the derision in his voice.
He didn't wait for an answer, kicking a clump of sand towards Chris's face and storming off past him. There was no point. There was no goddamned point if it was for his own 'sense of righteousness'.
Chris felt the final punch, which caused him to grip his chest. However he didn't fall, he wouldn't allow himself to have the comfort of sand. As Marcus left, Chris didn't move. He stood there, staring towards the water and sky. He contemplated the foolishness of his actions. Perhaps if he stood there in his lonesome, he can see past the void, see the dragon within him and understand it more.
Perhaps if Chris weren't so lost in thought, he might have heard the soft running of Marcus coming up behind him. A combination of him trying to go as fast has he could as silently as he could, right until he got in the perfect range to...
"PSYCHE!" Marcus yelled, planting his feet directly in the center of Chris's back for his own dropkick. A dropkick with the express goal of seeing exactly how far into the water Marcus could surf Chris's body. If he were lucky, maybe the kid would fall unconscious and drown.
He didn't bother to move or get up. Once he hit the ground, Chris just remained there. He didn't move, nor complain, let alone offer any resistance. He deserved no less.
He was wrong, maybe there was a point to needless violence after all; because this did make him feel better.
Marcus huffed once, looking down at the pathetically crumpled form of Chris. He wasn't a bad person for doing that just now, was he? Chris had tried to slow roast him...or rather, had succeeded in slow roasting him before he rewound. He'd stopped fighting because of that, but it certainly didn't make it not happen. Here he was taking petty revenge on someone who had already given up...
...and he felt great.
He pondered this slightly, watching the fallen form of Scales for a second, to make sure the kid was still breathing at least. A shame, but Zhang would probably have his head for executing one her tools. Satisfied that he hadn't killed him, and just feeling generally satisfied overall, Marcus walked back off the way he came. Maybe he wasn't a bad person - maybe he just did bad things to people who deserved it.
After leaving the cafe, Zoe had decided to wander the town alone for a while - there was somewhere she wanted to go for herself. The tavern had caught her eye when they'd been wandering around, but for whatever reason she hadn't felt like going in there at the time. Possibly because, all things considered, Zoe didn't want to drag anyone else into a fight. If she was being honest, the prospect of pissing someone off was half the reason she decided to go in, especially knowing this town weren't exactly keen on X's right now. It would be easy to get on somebody's nerves.
So she'd walked in with the arrogant, self-confident smile of someone that knew you didn't like them, and didn't really give a damn. Screw it, it wasn't like she went many places where people didn't give her a second glance, and this was no different. Entering the bar, she seated herself at one of the tables, leaning back in her chair and putting her feet up on it in a gesture that was at best blatantly distrespectful. Probably not the best way to get anyone wanting to serve her, but hey - not like she was here for the drinks.
Whoever hosted the tavern definitely had a taste for the nautical, with salvaged paintings and photos of ships and yachts hanging on the walls while a broken--and very poorly made--replica of an old-fashioned ship's wheel rested on a corner of the bar top. Most of the bar spigots were collecting dust from disuse and the one working tap served the kind of swill better used for washing hands than drinking. A heavyset woman with thick brown curls and dark skin eyed Zoe's neck as the girl approached, the white mark on her cheekbone practically shining against its olive backdrop.
"We don't serve your sort here. You lot either go crazy before or after the alcohol, but it's the same difference."
"And here I thought this was a free country." Perhaps ironic, coming from an imprisoned subnatural, but it wasn't like she was gonna concede the point. In fact, she just closed her eyes as though the woman wasn't worth wasting her time on. "Aren't we subs all in it together? I think it's better to give folks the benefit of the doubt. Even the ones who spend their time in shitty backwater towns running even shittier bars."
The expression on her face was taunting, her eyes opening to watch the woman's expression. Because the way Zoe saw it, what the hell was this lady gonna do about it? "But sure, don't serve me if it makes you feel better. I'm just resting my legs for a while."
"Your sort never have anything new. Bravado sometimes. Anger the next. And some days someone has to die to make you feel better." The woman's voice was bitter and she stepped away from the counter as she spoke. "This creaking shack isn't worth dying over, if you're here to start a fight." She turned towards the back entrance, walking towards the back of the bar swiftly. "You want to break it down? Suit yourself."
Zoe watched, a self-satisfied smile on her face as the woman exited through the back door. Real brave 'til she actually had to do something, huh? Although she was slightly disappointed the barmaid had backed down, Zoe was happy enough to sit back and relax for now.
“Room for two?”
Zoe had been the first of his teammates that Lawrence had caught sight of since leaving his room, and he had to admit there were worse options that he could have run into. Thankfully, instead of taking a turn where he might lose sight of her, she instead dipped into a... tavern? It seemed oddly appropriate, from what little he knew about her.
After catching the tail end of a short spat and letting Lizzy wander off to do her own thing, he took a seat next to the aberration, barely even acknowledging the retreating woman. He wasn't exactly here to be served anyway. While he hadn't quite caught on to the town's disdain to the easily pissed off x-mark students, he wasn't eactly surprised to see that Zoe had already started picking fights with the locals. It was a problem, but not exactly one he was looking to solve at the moment.
He just wanted to talk to somebody.
“Feels like it's been ten years since the last time we got to sit down together.”
"Lawrence?" Zoe's eyes widened as he sat down next to her. She'd known he was alive, despite everything, but... she couldn't help being surprised to see the guy around. If nothing else, she was glad to see him looking okay. Lizzy too, she supposed, although it made sense to see the two of them together.
"It has been a while. She smiled, but couldn't quite keep the concern out of her tone. "You been doing okay?"
That concern, admittedly, had caught him off guard. If she'd been so concerned why hadn't she tried to visit him in the week following his brush with death? Almost reflexively he tried to dismiss any worries she might have, but... He was trying to change, wasn't he? He couldn't really expect them to trust and accept him if he kept distancing himself as much as possible.
“I admit, I've been better. It's been a pretty stressful month, hasn't it?”
Idly, he slipped a hand between the buttons on his shirt, where the hole that almost killed him once was.
“Still, alive, which is something. Hard to complain when that's the case. How about you? Been holding up okay since the library?”
With a slightly bitter chuckle he closed his eyes and added;
“Guess that's a bit of a silly question with all that's happened since.”
"Wish I say so. I'm not as bad as I was, though. After Wisford, I--" Zoe glanced towards where his hand was, frowning. It wouldn't be fair to admit she wasn't okay, right? Not if she was already getting better on her own, without anyone's help. When she was trying to be reliable, to seem strong in the face of danger, be the one to help when others were weak. Lawrence was his own person, not just a dumping ground for her problems.
But then, hadn't that annoyed him before? Saying that it wasn't fair to burden him with her issues? He'd told her not to do what she was doing right now - so maybe it was a point of pride rather than selflessness. Maybe she just needed to think things through first, talk about something that wasn't death and destruction.
"I finished that book. The anger management one." A clumsy lie. Zoe laughed, but it was slightly hollow as she looked in the direction the barmaid had fled. "I'm not sure how much it helped, but at least you got me reading."
At the sound of Wisford Lawrence flinched in what seemed to have become a reflex, much to his annoyance- the arbiter didn't like the idea of being able to be read after so much time perfecting his calm. However, Zoe thankfully dodged the subject as quickly as she had brought it up, and he couldn't help but palm his face with his free hand in response to her change of subject.
“The book wasn't about anger management Zoe, it was about...”
What? Being good? Being content with your life? Finding peace? Eliminating bad experiences?
“I guess it doesn't really matter if it didn't help. What's your next target going to be for this newfound hobby I've forced on you?”
"Eh, same difference, right? Whatever it was about." Zoe shrugged, raising an eyebrow at the idea of it being classed as a new hobby. "I don't think I'm ever gonna be much of a bookworm, so don't get your hopes up on that front, but if you've got any recommendations, then shoot. Nothing too wordy, though."
“I think you should probably stick to your strengths then Zoe, like...”
Slowly he removed his hand from his face, drumming his fingers on the table in thought.
“Like...”
He was drawing a serious blank on this one. Was it because...?
“Like...”
Then finally he threw back his head and laughed, far more genuinely than a few moments ago.
“Wow, come to think of it I don't really know anything about you Zoe. Guess we haven't really had many chances for smalltalk this past month.”
"Hobbies? Never really had much spare time for them, other than training. But I'm guessing you mean stuff other than working out and punching people." Zoe frowned, trying to think things through. The two things she'd mentioned were kind of her main hobbies, but...
"I sew sometimes, I guess. It's practical." Did that count as a talent? For whatever reason, it felt strange to talk about. Zoe didn't tend to mention it to other people for whatever reason - maybe just because sewing wasn't exactly something that fit the whole tough-girl image. "And relaxing, once you get into it."
“Sewing?”
Now Lawrence was interested in the conversation for perhaps the first time. He certainly hadn't been expecting this revelation, although his voice betrayed no doubts about what Zoe had just told him. After all, she seemed much more liable to lie about not being able to sew rather than being able to.
“How good are you at it? I can only really do field stuff- you know, the medical kind- but it'd be a hell of a helpful thing to be able to get my clothes patched up. They tend to go to rags pretty quick with... Well, our line of work, and it's a pain in the ass to have to buy new ones so often. I tend to get attached to what I own.”
With a quick frown, he added;
“I don't mean I want to shove all my maintenance on you- what I mean is could you teach me sometime? I'm sure the concept is similar to what I know so I shouldn't be too terrible of a student.”
"Pretty good. Sucked at first, like most things, but I've mended a fair amount of clothes in my time. They hold up pretty well now. Always wanted to try and make my own, but fabric's expensive. I'm not sure I'm the greatest teacher, but if you can deal with me being snappy..." It did make more sense than just having to patch things up for him, anyway.
"Sure, why not? Don't think it should be that hard to teach if you already know something." Zoe looked at him, shrugging. "I'm happy to patch things up for you in the meantime, but try not to get everyone coming my way. There wouldn't be enough hours in the day to get it all done."
She was sure Lawrence would have figured that one out without her say-so, but it still seemed worth mentioning.
He cocked his head in response to that last bit before shrugging.
“I don't really spread other peoples' business without their permission, so no worries there.”
Before adding with a bit of a smile;
“But thanks, I appreciate it. There's not really been anybody to ask before- at least that wasn't worse at it than I am. I mean, I'm sure they're around, but I'm not exactly the most social person on the planet. Kind of a random thing to ask a stranger, you know?”
"Yeah, I can imagine. Everyone's probably got a bunch of skills we don't know about around here. If you're gonna deal with my bullshit, least I can do is sew up a few shirts, right?" Zoe laughed lightly, "Seriously, it's not been easy to deal with while you were holed up in your room."
That was an understatement. It almost felt like she was lying by not telling him what had happened since he went, but how was she supposed to begin there? There wasn't really any easy way to drop any of it into a conversation, even the parts she wasn't ashamed of. Her fists clenched briefly, worry crossing her face before she relaxed.
"No point being teammates if we can't at least help each other out, right? Not like the rest of the world's gonna bother." She grinned despite the slightly bitter-sounding remark. That part didn't bother her - she had no intention of helping the rest of the world either. Feeling was mutual.
“You could have always knocked you know. I... wouldn't have minded the visitor.”
It came out slightly more bitter than he intended, but not more than he felt. Still, it was ultimately his own fault for locking himself away, he couldn't expect anyone to be a mind reader- or at least most people when it came to USARILN East.
“But yeah, we're a team. Doesn't feel like we act like it all the time though- and I'm not sure if that's going to be good enough going forward. Since Wisford-” Another wince. “Well, let's say death seems even closer than it did before, and we can't help each other at all if we're not alive. I'm just not sure what to do in order to solidify us.”
"You're not wrong; we don't." Zoe felt like she spent half of her time covering for other people's mistakes, and the other half going too far and hurting them herself. "It's gonna come apart one way or another unless something changes. Hell, I'm... trying to be better, but I've still screwed up. When those rogues attacked--"
She paused, unsure whether she should talk about the events, before continuing. "I took off Callan's arm. Because time was running out, and no-one else was doing anything. I had to finish it myself, and it was the only way I could see to do that, because they weren't doing shit." Because she thought he was going to die, and she didn't want to watch that happen.
"And then in D.C. they go and kill who knows how many regulars, when they're just supposed to be evacuating. Every fight, something goes wrong, because they can't prioritise shit." Zoe looked tired, incredibly so. For what it was worth, she knew how to fight, knew she could protect them, but they made it really damn difficult to do it. No matter how strong her resolve, it wouldn't change the fact that they didn't belong on a battlefield like she did. "I don't trust them to keep each other alive. And that scares me."
Lawrence didn't really speak for some time after Zoe finished, instead slipping his hand into his shirt once more and staring at his fingers drumming aimlessly on the surface in front of him. So, how was he supposed to respond to all of that? Again, a week or two ago and he would have just brushed it off or tried to reassure her, but that felt... wrong somehow now. It was really too massive of a problem to just brush aside with some words, and it actually needed to be discussed if a solution was going to be found. Besides, he was just like her if not moreso; A battlefield is a place he was familiar with, these others...
In the end, honesty won out as the best policy.
“Well, it scares me too. Partly because my own life depends on it, partly because their lives do- and honestly I don't want any more civilians to be killed, especially not by us. I don't want someone to lose a person they love- I've been there. If we cause that to someone whose innocent it's pretty much unforgivable.”
Finally he looked over to her once more before continuing.
“But we can't exactly choose to keep them out of the next fight that happens, so we need to come up with something together- seems like we've managed to come up with fuck all of a solution on our own, you know?”
Unforgivable? Not in her eyes. "There's only so many civilian deaths they can cover up." It was callous that Zoe didn't really share Lawrence's concern for the regulars - all she cared about was how that action could affect their group. Either way, though, she didn't want them dying unnecessarily. What did the reasons matter, when the end results they wanted were the same? She sighed. "Everyone needs to know where they should be, what the priorities are."
It wasn't the same as having a representative, was it? "I'd say we need a leader, someone to make sure everyone knows all that, but--" She shrugged. "No-one here's leader material, really. And even if someone starts trying to take charge, they still need everyone else to listen. It's a bust." People needed to trust that they knew what they were doing, to respect them enough not to completely screw it up.
She shrugged, frowning. "And that's just thinking about when we're in combat, never mind outside it."
“That's the thing, it's easy to give orders, it's a lot more difficult to have someone listen to them. Sometimes this feels like babysitting- and I'm not particularly fond of children.”
It essentially was babysitting of course. Hadn't Rosa mentioned something to that effect a couple days ago? He still hadn't looked at his phone since tossing it away. A bit more immature than he was used to being, but then again he was trying to be different, wasn't he?
Life could be a pain in the ass sometimes whether it was outside of battle or not.
“I bet you could probably intimidate at least half of them into listening to you. I know I wouldn't want to be the one to tell you no halfway through getting our asses blown off.”
The last bit was added with a confident smirk that practically challenged her test it. It'd been awhile since he'd had the chance to actually dig at an aberration without worrying they'd immediately try to bite his head off- some in very literal fashion.
"You're not dumb. Well," she grinned, "not that dumb, anyway. But no," The possibility of her as a leader hadn't even crossed Zoe's mind. "Having me as the leader is a no-go. Might work in the field, but combat's about the only place where I know what I'm doing."
And there was the matter of public image to think about. Anything that could get more aggression directed towards their little group wasn't a good thing, and even though she hadn't taken part in any mass murders - for all the public knew, she was a rabid dog that needed chained up. Considering that the rest of them had been heralded as heroes in comparison... it was a terrible idea.
More selfishly, she couldn't in good conscience destroy herself if there were people actually relying on her.
"Fact is, I'm screwing up more often than not." Zoe sighed. It was worrying, almost, that there were people coming to see her as dependable, because she was so far from it. "Plus, in case you've forgotten, I'm unstable. Bad idea all round."
“I'm not exactly disagreeing with you, but I also don't think you're screwing up any more than the rest of us. Give yourself the credit that's due at least.”
With that Lawrence propped his elbow onto the table and rested his head on it, fingers parting his unkempt hair.
“Though you're right in that you don't exactly scream 'PR Success Story' Marcus would, maybe, but you know...”
With that he removed his free hand from his shirt and gave it a wave.
“Blood on his hands too. I need to check in with him sometime about that, see how he's holding up. Really I need to lecture just about everybody here on top of that but it's a pain in the ass when they're either feeling like a 10 or a 0 and rarely in between.”
Zoe nodded. He did. And he wasn't the only one - at least her victims hadn't been relatively harmless regulars.
"There aren't many of us that don't. I think a lot of them are trying to forget about it." Zoe frowned, unsure how she felt about that. On the one hand, maybe it felt better to let yourself forget, but surely you could use it to fuel you, motivate you, make sure it never happened again. "I don't think they should. That's how you repeat mistakes."
Mistakes were dangerous. Mistakes got people killed. You couldn't just forget, and push everything to the side, you had to face your actions. Accepting them, or rejecting them - either seemed better to her than denial. "We're lucky they were able to cover up what happened this time - it happens again, that might not be possible."
“Well if I have to be the one to remind them- sad day for me I guess. Not exactly the kind of job I'm looking forward to- but if they're planning on forgetting it they have another thing coming-”
Lawrence was interrupted by a short buzz from Zoe's phone. Glancing at the text, she frowned. Emma? Yeah, a chat, it looked like... something about a beach party--
Fuck no.
Party was fine. Hanging around the others was... uncomfortable in some cases, but she could probably avoid those people easily enough unless they wanted to pick a fight. The beach part on the other hand? No. No way. Not happening. Beaches meant ocean, ocean meant water, water meant drowning and panic and helplessness and--
She'd zoned out a little, a worried expression on her face.
“- Zoe! We moving out or something? What the hell is wrong?”
At this point Lawrence was standing and trying to get a look at the woman's phone screen, far beyond thinking it was any sort of personal message. Lizzy, for her part, had returned and was sticking her head into the doorway of the tavern, flicking her gaze between both Lawrence and Zoe, hairs raised in aggitation.
"Huh?" Zoe snapped back to reality, looking at Lawrence with a frown. Had she been that caught up in her thoughts? Trying to dismiss the thoughts that had sprung to mind, she spoke a little too hastily and nervously for the seemingly mundane subject matter. "It's nothing, just an invitation to some kinda beach party. Class thing. Don't think I'll bother going."
Forcing a smile, she looked back down at her phone and started to type, deciding it would be easier to just say as much and keep anyone else from bothering her about it.
He frowned in response to that. That's what had gotten her so worked up? It could be possible that he had suddenly become terrible at reading people, but she had looked worried sick. Still did. And her reply wasn't exactly a convincing one.
“And... Why not? Parties in general aren't really my thing, but... Didn't we just say that we need to start coming up with ways to bond closer as a team? This seems like a pretty perfect opportunity for that Zoe.”
Zoe paused in her typing. Okay, he wasn't wrong, but that really didn't balance things out for her in the slightest. "I can go to the next one, can't I? Won't be the last time we all get together." It was a weak justification, she knew that, but part of her hoped it'd be enough.
"You can also go to this one, can't you Zoe? 'Don't think I'll bother going.' Isn't exactly a concrete reason for you to skip it.”
"I just-" Grasping for a better explanation that never came. Damn it, why did she suck so much at lying? Zoe's shoulders slumped slightly, and she looked almost embarrassed as she mumbled, "I'm scared of water."
“Oh.”
Lawrence left it at that for a few moments- partly out of thought, and partly trying not to snicker. For one, it'd be extremely rude after this revelation, and two he wanted to keep from getting a second hole melted into his chest. It shouldn't have really surprised him that even Zoe was afraid of something, but the reveal was not something he'd expected today.
“Is it because you can't swim? How long do we have until this beach thing? I could always try teaching you before it gets here- you're going to teach me to sew after all. Until you get the hang of it I kinda have the ability to take away fear you know.”
"No, I can't swim, but that's not why." Zoe frowned. "Bad memories, that's all, makes me feel helpless. You don't need to pay me back for the sewing lessons anyway, so don't worry about it." She wasn't sure how much being able to swim would help matters, either, so she just looked at Lawrence with a grimace.
"It's on Sunday, if you want to go for yourself."
It wasn't as if Lawrence didn't have his fair share of bad memories, so he decided to drop the swimming angle there. Still, he had no desire to go to this thing either, and they had just agreed that they needed to build up the team as best they could. He was not going to be budging.
“It's a beach Zoe. Like 80% of what people actually use is sand. Nobody would probably even notice if you didn't get into the water- just distract them by beating their heads in during volleyball or something.”
"But it's still... there." Zoe's discomfort was still obvious. Shit, she knew it wasn't rational, but the whole thing unnerved her. Saying that, the prospect of actually relaxing with everyone didn't seem that bad, and with everything they'd discussed... after a long moment's thought, she scowled. "Fine. Only because I want to make this team work one way or another."
There was one other thing which seemed important about this. "But let's be clear, anyone puts me in the water, I'll probably kill them. So just keep an eye out. That happens, or is about to happen, you have my permission to zap me back to calm." Lawrence had told her before he didn't like doing it without permission, so even if Zoe figured he'd have the sense anyway, it seemed better to say so. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary.
Throwing his hands up like he was the one giving in during this exchange, Lawrence finalized it with a;
“Conditions accepted. Just call out my name dramatically if that starts to happen and I'm not paying attention. Although I kinda suspect you could kick anybody's ass who even tried.”
More seriously, he added;
“So what time is this happening so I can swing by and get you? Not that I don't trust you not to change your mind and skip out- but I totally don't trust you not to change your mind and skip out.”
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Scowling, partly because she would've at least considered doing exactly that, Zoe glanced back down at the screen. "We've to be at the beach at one o'clock on Sunday, then."
At least he agreed to the condition she'd asked for, even if he was being slightly annoying about the whole thing. Plus, the acknowledgement that she could kick most people's asses was a nice boost for the redhead's ego, intentional or not - an easy way to soothe some of the irritation she felt towards this whole scenario.
“Sounds like a plan to me then.”
With that he turned away, noticing Lizzy poking her head in for the first time, although the latter had since relaxed the hairs on her back and fixed Zoe with the same sort of glare she had given the aberration at their first meeting.
“Oh knock it off, I'll feed you in a bit.”
When he finished crossing the room he gave the dog a scratch behind her ears before turning to Zoe a final time.
“See you Sunday then, if not before.”
Zoe laughed lightly at the dog's approach. Supposed she couldn't keep Lizzy waiting, huh? If Lawrence was gonna be around more, she'd have to start carrying snacks again. Not that she was gonna find any around here, considering the state of the place. Raising a hand in goodbye, she nodded. "Sure thing. See you around, I guess."
And despite her irritation, despite the fact that she'd just agreed to spend a day by the ocean of all places, she smiled at the thought that crossed her mind as she watched the arbiter leave the bar. Not that she'd ever admit it to the asshole's face, but...
They have been there for 3 full days. It had been two days since his talk with the guards.
Still, no sight of Christmas. Sander was getting restless, pacing the meagre space of his room instead of sleeping. Darker thoughts were beginning to plague his mind, whispering what ifs and what could have beens. There were dangers on the road after all. And before that, dangers at DC. What if something happened? Was this his fault? He could have stayed, had he been conscious. But he just had to overstep and overuse his power, didn’t he?
This was why he couldn’t have good things. Because he was a fool who never learnt.
Frustration mounted, and it took conscious effort not to throw the glass of water in his hand against the wall. Still he placed it down, just to be safe, blue eyes glancing outside the window, gauging his options. It was late. It was cold. No one was going out. Besides, if he went deeper into the woods, no one would be there. Hasty decision made, Sander grabbed the few blood bags the maids left in his cooler before heading out. He didn’t stop to put on his coat.
Almost half an hour later, he found himself standing among a thick patch of trees, cranking his neck to witness their height. The fire of his power thrummed through him, quiet now, when he was suppressing it.
Hazel had been trying to sit down in a corner, trying to ignore the stigma until it passed, but it would seem it had gone too long without being fed. She retained just enough sense of mind to ask someone where to go, resulting in her going to the woods where there were no one around. Certainly there wouldn't be someone strolling in the woods in this ungodly hour, or at least that was her thought.
Sprinting as fast as she could towards the deepest parts of the woods, she bumped into — of all people — Sander.
Having been impatient enough to just run out towards the woods after asking for permission, Hazel has simply a long blouse over herself and barely anything else. While she herself had no recollection of what had happened before, she can't help but feel extremely vulnerable. Even though she was still able to think, there was this irrational anger and resentment rising at the mere sight of him. Or perhaps it was because she was still lucid that she felt such things towards him.
Sander blinked, noticing Hazel’s distinctive scent just now. With his power active, it took conscious effort to tell her scent from the animals around, which was why he overlooked it in the first place.
“What are you doing here?” -Titling his head, he watched the girl curiously. Then a thought sparked. Maybe she was here the same reason he was –“Are you…Do you want me to…leave?”
"Y-you...." need to get outWe should just kill him
Why was he even here? Hazel was told there wouldn't be anyone up in the woods at this time.
"I-I cannot.."suppress this for long.It hurts.
Her hand crept onto her face as she doubled over as if in pain. Anger, fear, resentment, melancholy, sadness pain, and a myriad of other emotions swirled around her head as her vision seemed to fill over with a white hot haze. Phantom noises and images filled her senses, pressing in onto her mind, seemingly trying to explode her head with their sheer volume. Without warning, an enourmous purple limb tore through the air beside Sander, crashing through trees and bushes alike. With her hand on her face holding up her hair, it was easy enough to see her eyes full of hatred and venom, the sides of her mouth twitching erratically.
"It really really hurt." Please go away
Sander should have run. But the moment a purple limb flew through the air next to him, he knew it was already too late. The fire in him flared, engulfing him. He lowered his stance, red eyes furious.
“Stop this!” -He warned, one last time.
The only answer he got from Hazel was another sweeping attack, crashing through trees and bushes as it swung towards him.
Sander leapt backward out of range, snarling as the purple hand swept in a wide arc. He waited for the split second where the arm passed him before charging right at Hazel.
He was fast, but not fast enough to escape her eyes. While he was certainly strong enough to tear her apart with his bare hands, she has one overwhelming advantage even she — halfway through the throes of madness — could leverage.
Sheer range.
Before, overwhelmed by sheer excitement and the white hot veil blinding her, all she could do was rampage mindlessly. Now she had only one person in her vision, one who made her abdomen ache, one who somehow attracted her with all his raw power. Without warning a smaller arm, almost near her size, projected in front of him, sweeping quickly towards his neck as he charged towards her.
Sander did see the smaller attack coming, but judging from its size, he did not dodge.
While he was invulnerable to attacks at the moment, he wasn't unmovable. From the speed of his charge, and where the arm hit him and halted his motion, he simply flipped over and fell on his back, as his lower half continued moving as his upper stopped completely. Sensing her chance, Hazel thrust down an enourmous palm down on Sander, now prone on the ground.
Sander tried to get back on his feet, but the palm was also closing fast, and he wouldn't have had time. So he clenched his fist and threw a punch toward the coming palm, didn't even bother putting up his arms to block. Strong as he was, his arm simply punched though the projected limb, leaving a small hole in Hazel's hand. That did not stop the hand from slamming onto him however, before exploding a moment later, once the hand disintergrated what clothes he had and the dirt around him.
The small wound on her hand was surprising enough that she pulled back in reflex, surprised that anything could even hurt her projection, much less hurt her from her projection.
The brief lapse was enough for Sander to spring back onto his feet. But as much as the blood high in him raged, he reigned it in, refusing to engaging in combat with Hazel any longer. Anymore, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back. He turned and dashed off, counting on his inhuman speed to put distance between them. Whatever happened next, should Hazel go on a rampage, he trusted the guards would be enough to stop her.
The cuffs were there for a reason.
Unable to pursue, and unable to find another target that attracted her attention, she simply started destroying anything she found instead, leaving a mass of destroyed trees, bushes and other debris in her wake for quite a while.
It was Sunday… yet another boring Sunday. Strange, how the last day of the weekend seemed to always be the most calm for the students of Unit B. Then again, with all the action happening around here and them, the students deserved peace and quiet for at least one day, Angélique figured.
This Sunday felt however like any other day of the week ever since Angel had arrived on this island. In the morning, she woke up and grabbed a very quick breakfast before heading outside the estate for a lengthy morning jog. By now, she had grown accustomed to the path she was taking for her two hours of jogging exercises. She usually circled around the mansion for a lap or two before taking the path towards the beach, jogging along the way until she would decide to take the main road and go for a few miles before eventually returning to her lodging. She’d take a quick shower, change into more comfortable clothing (or at least what she considered confortable); a cropped shoulderless shirt with leather pants, all black in color, adorned with belts, chains, rings and bracelets, without forgetting about her precious shades and leather choker, one hiding her eyes to the harmful rays of the sun while the other concealed her X mark away from the prying eyes of the public, even from her own classmates’. There was always a certain reluctancy of wearing this collar anymore, feeling that its use had no longer any purpose now that she was known to be an Aberration. But deep inside, something kept compelling her to wear it. Maybe the pressure on her neck was a better reminder that she was shackled, both to the government, and to the mark of her throat.
For the past week, Angélique had always tried to dodge human interactions, leaving the mansion for morning joggings and taking the car to get further away as well. But no matter what, she always seemed to have been finding herself talking to one person or the others. Maybe she wasn’t so alone as she thought she was, even if that still didn’t forgive her from the sins she committed herself to by losing control back in Washington. However, those short discussions with the others had done great benefit to Angel for the most part. She didn’t need to forgive herself for what she did, nor the others had any reason to, but she needed to learn from this mistake and make sure it didn’t happen again. For the others’ sake, for Allison’s. Having realized it, Angel slowly began to break free from the cocoon she had spun around herself. She was more willing to speak to others now, interact with them, help if she could even.
Today, however, Angélique felt like taking a step back and look at the overview of her situation. She wanted to think about what the others had told her, summarize what she could muster for her own and strengthen her will out of what had been discussed, out of the second chances she had been given by the others. And there was also the fact that the raven-haired Siren would like to know about this whole place. It had been told this was Zhang’s estate, but why was it only maintained by Subnaturals, namely Arbiters, isolated from the world’s prying eyes and far away from USARILN? Angel didn’t feel like asking the main folk concerned yet, she wanted to know about the general layout of the area before doing so, as to trying to figure out what she should be expecting if she were to ever try and talk to one of the Arbiters serving the estate.
As such, Angélique decided to go to town to find out more about this peculiar island. Maybe people over there knew a bit of what happened around here. There was a pang of anxiety, to actually go out and seek Regulars to talk to. She hadn’t had been trying to talk to anyone outside the Institute and her classmates ever since she came to USARILN. Ironic, for a girl whose previous life was to sing and talk to the people.
Packing her usual gear for going on a trip - bikini, cooler with sandwich ingredients inside, spare clothes, guitar, notebook and minor accessories – Angélique went to the garage and took one of the two cars for a spin, as per usual. This time, however, her destination wasn’t some unknown place for sightseeing on the island. She would go to town, a few miles away from the estate.
It didn’t take long for the raven-haired driver to reach the small village. Figuring out a place to safely park the Dodge Charger at, Angel would make sure the car was locked and placed the keys inside the pocket of her pants before heading into the village. Her heart began racing at the thought she was just willingly walking into a public space and looking for strangers to speak with while she was exploring the desolate-looking town.
She had parked in a public lot beside a run-down gas station, the paint and plaster chipped and peeling so badly the station's original name had long been lost to the ages. Her entrance in the classy, distinctive car had spooked the nearby townspeople and the immediate area was entirely deserted. Had a tumbleweed blown by, she could almost be in a movie set. The road beside the station was cracked and uneven, years of zero maintenance showing it was hardly safe to drive on. The street ran down into a deserted distance, the small houses and tiny shops along the sidewalk looking just as uncared for. Street lights sported cracks and old street signs dangled precariously beside several traffic lights, ready to drop at any second. Some buildings had been dusted over with disuse, the interior completely caked in a thick layer of debris. Others looked slightly better, with some makeshift repairs on several windows and a teal door outside a small barbershop that was a little too small for the frame, but had been grafted onto the building anyway.
A chill ran down Angélique’s spine. Shit, this felt like a real ghost town. She was sure she had seen people earlier when she entered the town. It couldn’t have been her imagination, wasn’t it? The people at the estate had mentioned something about an inhabited town a few miles away from where they were staying. Plus, surely the staff personnel had to get supplies from somewhere? Furthermore, there were signs of people having slightly renovated some parts of this town. What exactly happened here?
Taking further steps into the town, Angélique explored the area, finding herself standing in front of a barber shop with a strange teal-painted door. This kind of place was usually a village’s meeting point, where the locals would meet and gossip about anything happening. Perhaps this place was still open? She could go in and pretend to want a haircut. Her hair had grown considerably longer after a whole month, she could use a few inches off her hair.
“Hello? Anybody here?” The young woman asked as she pushed onto the door.
The interior of the shop looked very clearly lived in, with fresh potted plants decorating the main--but empty--counter and several sheets of paper with grocery lists and appointment notes jotted down in neat handwriting. Only three of the four chairs in the small place were serviceable, the fourth leaning heavily to one side where the pneumatics in the main stand had failed and the inner pole itself had bent. Hair clippings and barbicide rested on one of the tables in front of the chairs, but there was a distinct lack of personnel around. Yet there had to be people, because despite the mess around one chair the rest of the barbershop was clean and attempts to liven up the place shone through in cracked, framed paintings of hair models and hairstyles, the pictures torn from magazines and posters. The mirrors as well shone clean and clear despite several cracks in the corners. Whoever was here, they did care about the place.
Angel noted everything that pointed to the presence of someone living in the area, but failed to see if people were actively in hiding or if they somehow were away. The whole setting intrigued the young Aberration woman. There had to be someone around these parts who could tell her the story of this island. She would not give up, she’ll wait if need be to see if anyone would return and move about in town.
The groceries lists made it clear that despite looking abandoned, this village should have a place that supplied food to whoever lived here. Taking this into consideration, Angélique left the barber shop, for the moment. Instead, she would turn her attention to the shops or any building that would be big enough to suggest a food-storing unit.
Down the street, at the far end, was a slightly taller building than the rest and just as Angel walked out, the door to it closed quickly, like someone had been peeking out. If there was anyone hiding in there, it was hard to tell beyond the sudden movement of the door, though the storefront revealed the location to be the closest thing to a grocery store the island had. Most of the shelves were empty and the refrigeration units held a paltry supply of vegetables, fruits, and dairy products, but it was clearly still functioning. Attempts at wall decor to cover the flaking wallpaper had resulted in a sort of messy mosaic of Sharpie and markers, but the span of it across the walls hinted at months of continuous work, turning the store into something of an experiment in amatuer interior design as well.
Creepy. Terribly so. Angel felt like she was being watched as she made her way to the building. Unseen people clearly knew she was here, but were quick to disappear as she came into sight. Was is that obvious she was a stranger here? If so, did they knew about her? It was uncomfortable to think she was inquiring about the area if people already associated with the murderer she was perceived as from her last concert’s incident.
It was clear to her now that people were using this place as a grocery store, seeing how fresh the products seemed despite how rundown the area was, without mentioning all the makeshifts decorations. Taking an apple from one of the refrigerators offering an assortment of fruits and vegetables, she made her way to what could’ve have been a cashier counter, waiting for someone to show up and charge her for the apple.
A clattering of boxes from behind her announced where the store's keeper had been hiding as he fell over onto all fours, tucked as he had been behind the maybe empty cardboard containers that had delivered their supplies. He looked young, no later than his mid-twenties, with a scattering of freckles across his pale shoulders and arms, a white sweater with the sleeves rolled up and some marker stains on its front revealing what he had been doing before the sudden need to hide. His brown hair was a mess and his glasses had been duct-taped in more than one location, desperately in need of repairs. He looked at Angel in a panic, large green eyes wide open as he scrabbled backwards, fixating on the collar that hid her mark.
"Who are you?" he shouted, grabbing a bag of oven-baked chips nearby like he was going to throw it at her.
Angel took a step forward in surprised as she heard boxed falling behind her, slightly startled that someone had been hiding so close to without her noticing. Yeah, people clearly had been avoiding her, now she could see it. But while she sported a faint annoyed expression, she sighed softly, maintaining her bearing.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m one of the students that arrived on this island a week ago, residing at the estate.” Angélique explained, trying to be as polite and courteous as she could.
"At the estate?!" he shouted, scooting back further. "So you--you're one of the Director's cronies!" He did end up throwing the bag of sea salt and vinegar chips at Angel, standing up and holding his hands out like he was ready to lunge at her. "We told you already we don't want none of your help! Even this--" he jerked his head at the shelves "--is just temporary! Stop asking us if we want more! We can do just fine without you!"
Seeing, the bag of chips coming her way, Angélique reflexively held a hand up and grabbed the snacks before it reached her face. Damn, no matter where she went, people were really being jackasses to her. But she remembered the promise she made to the others. No lashing out at them. Those people didn’t deserve it. They were simply scared, and she needed to dispel that feeling.
“Help? I… I don’t know what you are talking about. We’ve just arrived, nobody told us anything about this island. Hell, I don’t even know what we are doing here instead of returning at the institute.” Angélique explained her situation, calmly setting the bag of bitter-flavored chips onto the counter. Couldn’t he have tossed her a BBQ one instead? She hated salt and vinegar…
“Zhang… wants to help you? THE director Zhang? Are we speaking of the same person here?” Angel inquired, suddenly feeling curious about the whole situation with that recent development.
The young man seemed taken aback by her confusion as well and he lowered his hands, watching her cautiously. "You don't know nothing? Really?"
The fallen rockstar shook her head “No. I mean, I was told there was a town here, so I thought I’d come to visit this place. I… didn’t expect any of this. In fact, I came here to know more about the island. I wanted to know what people knew of the estate.”
Angel leaned her back against the counter, trying to look as relaxed as possible. If she could ease up the tension with the young man, perhaps he would be more open to talk about what was happening around here. “Look, whatever you think I came here for, I assure you that I have no clue to what’s happening around here. Can… we sit and talk? I’m curious as to what’s happening here.”
"Not interested. If you don't know, then you ain't meant to know, simple as that. If she didn't send you here, then go back. Or hang around if you want, but I doubt people'll talk to you. Cuffed sorts don't really get how things work. They just think breaking free will fix everything and end up making our lives harder. Go on, get out of here." He crossed his arms, glaring at her relaxed look against his counter.
Well, this was frustrating. Again met with the cold steely glares. No matter where they went, Subnaturals weren’t quite welcomed, wasn’t it? But Angel tried not hold it against the man. He was right at some point, they did make their lives harder, but he wasn’t completely in the right either. There was a reason Subnaturals were difficult to deal with.
“Whatever you mean, you’re probably right. Subnaturals do make life a difficulty to deal with, especially us,” Angel straightened her back, no longer leaning against the counter as she pointed her mark hidden underneath her collar “but it is partly because of those words that we are being a problem. We never asked for these marks. They just… happened on us. How can you expect all these kids to not be troubled when they all get rejected by their family and friends? And then hounded by the government, tracked until they are imprisoned and turned into combat slaves as if they were criminals. Those kids didn’t inherently changed, the world’s view did.”
Angel walked up to the man, remaining a bit farther than at two arms’ reach. She lifted her arm, handing the apple she was thinking of buying to the shop owner. “Things are never going to change for the better if people keep hating only for the reason of hating. Help isn’t something that is handed out so easily in this world nowadays. Consider it before rejecting it. You never know, you might just contribute to making this world a better place.”
"Nice speech. Now get out of here," a voice from behind one of the refrigeration units was followed by a young woman, her age roughly the same as the man, though her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her clean, pressed dress shirt and pleated skirt along with a bit of light makeup gave her a more refined air. What differed most, however, was the white Arbiter mark under her right eye, the characteristic streak marking her as a subnatural on full display. She leveled gray eyes at Angel, a cold look on her face.
The black-haired Aberration was surprised as she caught sight of the Arbiter that had come out of hiding as well, looking however more refined. So even Subnaturals were hating on each other now? This was something entirely new to Angel. It begged the question if it was really because of who she was that people in this town actively avoided her. Not her reputation, but her mark, since the man asked her who she was earlier.
“Fine… I thought you of all people would understand.” Angel replied as she turned to the counter, setting the apple on it before leaving the shop, not wanting to antagonize on the people inside by making herself imposing. God knows she wouldn’t be getting anywhere being so insistent.
The streets were just as deserted when she exited the grocery store, the isolation intended from the inhabitants. Whatever else she was, at the very least one thing was clear: talking would not get through to them, not when a cuff remained on her ankle and the collar hid what was obviously on her neck. X-marks were dangerous--that much was no secret, but here in this town it was almost entirely rejected by both humans and subnaturals alike. There was no use for dogs of war there.
Not longer feeling welcomed around here, Angélique walked back to the car waiting for her in the abandoned parking lot she had left the vehicle in. She had no longer any purpose in here, but she felt like exploring a bit more. It was the point to her road trips, after all. Explore, see new things, get inspired, distract her mind from the hungering stigma, sate it somewhere remote if need be.
Grabbing her guitar case and a notebook from the trunk of the car, Angélique swung the strap over her shoulder as she returned inside the village, no longer minding the inhabitants avoiding her, but taking in the surroundings instead; The general state of things, how rundown everything had been, see if some buildings were beyond repair, what establishments could have been used for. If one place looked abandoned, she would take a peek inside. All of her findings would be noted inside her book.
Most of the buildings had lost enough of their original equipment to make discerning the past employment there impossible, and several others had been converted to a storage shed for miscellaneous supplies, planks and timbers loaded into one empty building while unused furniture filled up another. The town spread out sparsely around the motel in the center, with most of the buildings left to decay on their own. The nearby pier was free of any docked boats and the lighthouse a ways outside of town seemed to remain persistently on, even when there was no need. More rubble and half-ransacked locations peppered the broken asphalt and uneven sidewalks around the town and towards the outskirts less stable buildings had simply collapsed into a mound of broken walls and rooftops. The only multi-story edifice throughout the entire location, barring the towering lighthouse, was the two-story building that took up a large portion of the town's center, doubling as both a motel above and shops on the ground floor. It was a newer site from the construction detail, with more modern architecture and conveniences.
Eventually getting around town and finishing exploring anything noteworthy around the area, Angélique figured it was time to settle down for a little bit and try to ease her mind. This whole trip in town had done no good on her spirits. While it was interesting to visit new places, meeting different people with yet the same old mentality was not doing so good on her morale.
The Aberration young woman had told Allison, Brent and Zoe that she would do everything to protect everyone, be them Regulars or Subnaturals. But it was hard to keep that resolve, after continuously meeting people that didn’t care for her nor her classmates. Truly, this duty she tried to force upon herself was an ingrate task.
Unworthy. Useless. Trash…
Feeling a bit down and prone to emotions, Angélique left town and headed next to the lighthouse, sitting next to the ocean. Thinking it was a bit more secluded over there, the USARILN student took her guitar out of its case and began playing, her voice joining along into what would be ballads fit for soft rock and country music. But as time went by, her mind was filled with negativity as the voices in her head only sang along twisted lyrics of her songs, which eventually led to Angel’s voice starting to increase in volume, the tempo accelerating into something more frenetic, until it reached a dark and moody melody only fit on the recent death metal album she was supposed to be releasing a month back, at the same date she had given her last concert in Montréal.
THIS WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE MERCY!
In what would be the climax of her song, Angélique screamed, releasing a powerful wave of forceful sonic energy onto the water’s surface, effectively splitting the watery surface in two as the sound wave forced liquid aside in a forty-meters cone.
Several seconds after the screech, dead fish floated to the water's surface, most of them stunned and then slaughtered by the Aberration's power. Dozens bobbed up and down around her, their scales glimmering in the light.
Angel’s hands immediately were brought up to her mouth after realizing what she had done.
W-What did I just do?
It was not a question of how her power managed to do that. She knew full well the deathly effects her ability wrought. It was more of realizing she had lost control, or at least thought it was safe to just scream like that at bodies of water. What if someone was actually swimming in there?
Dread gripped Angélique as she turned her head away from the scene, gathering up all of her stuff and leaving the lighthouse’s side. No matter where she went, death followed in the wake of her screams. And what was the most twisted thing about it?
She felt relieved, sated even, after snuffing out those small insignificant lives.
Throwing her stuff at the backseat of the car, Angel slammed the door shut beside her and ignited the engine, driving off away quickly, as if she tried to lose an invisible manifestation of Death.
As she drove off in her hurry, the girl didn't notice the few Arbiters who came out of the lighthouse soon afterwards, scooping up the fish in an old, worn-down net and staring after her car.
It took a while for Angélique to return to the mansion. For all that her Stigma was sated, she felt horrible again. Would it be so easy to uphold her will to help people if she kept accidentally killing whatever was caught in her path of destruction?
The Aberration took a few hours to return, secluding herself somewhere on the island and making sure she’d come back more stable before facing the others. This day wasn’t meant to be this emotionally charged. Why did it had to be this way? What was her problem exactly?
Rejection. For all of her life, she was used to being loved and surrounded by people, even if their admiration was only superficial. After losing it all, it just felt more difficult to be rejected by all those new people she was trying to create bonds with. Maybe she didn’t know it, but it was more probable that she didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that she was indeed yearning for attention. For people to be kind and compliment her.
She felt sick, just thinking about it, but it was a reality that she had yet to accept.
Finally returning at the mansion, Angel quickly parked the car inside the garage and returned to her room with all of her stuff, shutting herself in. Back inside her lodgings, she sat down and thought about what she had found out today about her trip to town. The X-marked didn’t quite feel like it, but she needed to know what was going on in there. And so, even if she disliked the idea, Angel pulled on the silver chain, calling for a maid.
One of the butlers came in instead, black hair slicked back against his head and brown eyes kind despite the stern angles of his face. He looked in his early twenties--most of the staff on the estate did--and he bowed as he entered.
"At your service, ma'am."
“Oh, hello.”
There was quite an impersonnal tension Angélique felt on herself as she looked at the butler. Just a bit older than she was, being a Subnatural himself without however bearing the same mark. Was it because he was serving under infamous Director Zhang’s extravagant name? Shackled by a cuff or not, Angel felt like their situations may not so much differ, but there was something unnerving behind their uptight manners.
“Please, Angel will do just fine.” The younger Aberration tried to relax, obviously uncomfortable around the presence of a butler. “I went to town earlier, and I spoke only for a few minutes to some of them. Could you… tell me the story about this place? Or is there someone else who would be more knowledgeable about this subject?”
"The story?" he looked surprised at the question, like the answer was obvious, before regaining his composure. "There's not much to say. We volunteered to stay here, but between the ones in this household and the ones in town...well, there are some differences in philosophy, so to speak. They aren't fond of us, but we do what we can to help. It's not right to just let them starve when supplies are low."
"I see… that’s why they thought I was there for. They thought I was sent to offer help on Zhang’s behalf.” Angel half-explained, more like musing to herself. There was definitively some good philosophy going behind that explanation, but it didn’t explain exactly the distrust between those two groups, or the origin of why those people were here instead of at the Institute instead.
“But aren’t you all Mages on this island? What did create this division? This philosophy you have been talking about? Can you tell me more about your difference in opinions?” Angélique let loose a wave of questions, one answer that managed to only create more questions.
The butler seemed taken aback by the sudden barrage of questions, raising an eyebrow at the concern. "Apologies if I seem...uncouth, ma'am, but this isn't a...sort of amusing story for general curiosity. Why are you interested, might I ask?"
There was clearly a hint of disappointment on Angel’s face as the butler dodged her question and instead inquired why she wanted to know. There was some sort of clear hesitation whether she should push the subject if it wasn’t something that was easy to tell, but it was a story she wanted to know nonetheless. Not out of amusement, but simply because it would just feel right to learn about this world she was introduced violently in.
“It’s just… I want to understand this world I’m living in. There are just so much things I don’t know about our situation. The Rogues, the Institute, this island. We’re all in the same boat, and yet we are just so… divided? It feels like the pieces are scattered everywhere. I can’t grasp any of it.” Angel fell silent for a pause.
“I… I know we are supposed to be some sort of combat slaves, but why all of this extravagant treatment? Who are you guys? You live secluded from USARILN on this island, yet known to Zhang? It just doesn’t make sense to me. At least… I’m ignorant to it all, and that’s what scares me. To not know anything. How can I help people if I have no idea of the bigger picture? As it stands, I’m just a pawn playing soldier on a game of war against monsters. This… isn’t what I want. I just want to help everyone.”
“Please, can you help me understand?!
The butler sighed, but remained resolute. He knew this narrow-minded type--he had been this type some years ago.
"As much as I appreciate the idealism, ma'am...I think you're a bit misguided. Not everyone needs your help, so pardon me once more, but that's...quite arrogant of you. If that's all you'd like of me, I'll politely decline this line of questioning. Is there anything else I can help with, ma'am?"
Perhaps not everyone, but if she wasn’t willing to help, should she just leave it to the others? What if the others weren’t willing either? If everyone, the whole world, were thinking that way, then where was the good in the world? Maybe that’s the answer she was looking for all along. This world was doing bad, not only because of the monsters, but because only a handful of souls were willing to help. What would have happened if every single Mages; Precursors, Animi, Ardor, Arbiters and Aberrations banded together to repel the monsters? Would they see an end to this plague one day? It was wishful thinking, but at this point, this really was the only solution Angel could believe in right now.
“Will the world even recover if we're just not willing to help? It’s dreams and ideals that keep hope alive, even as deluded it is.” Angel replied, clearly unhappy at the butler that refused to indulge in her understanding. “No, you can leave. I’m just being foolish, apparently. Have a good day.”
"You as well, ma'am." He left with another bow, leaving as quietly as he had arrived.
Shortly after the butler left her room, a pillow came flying straight at the door, making a thumping noise as it hit the wooden frame hard. Angélique only felt frustration rising. Why was everyone refusing to understanding her feelings? Was the world just dead cynic, or was she the one who was stupidly blind to it all?
She didn’t want to believe that her role in this world was to be a combat slave for the rest of her life until death came knocing at her door. There are to be something else she could do, right? She was given these powers that she did not want. She was part of a minority of Mages that would be considered special, as Ernest once remarked. She was part of a group that was claimed to be the next Precursors. Surely fate, or Dreamcatcher even, had destined her classmates and herself a different path in life.
If only she could be strong than an Animus. Than a Precursor. Than anything in the world.
Another day was nearing the end. After spending yet another day on the road and getting herself something to eat after her trip, Angélique went to finish what little scraps of her meal was remaining into the music room. She had heard the mention of this part of the estate a while ago, but with everything that happened last week, the controverted rockstar never had the opportunity to visit the room, whether it was because she lacked the will to play music, meeting with other classmates or simply because she wanted to avoid everyone.
However, this week, Angel felt her spirits regaining its composure. While there had been a lot of moments of weakness in the past week, she also had meaningful discussions, some of which that actually helped in finding back a bit of her resolve and will. Today, the raven-haired singer felt somewhat good considering what happened, a rare occurrence ever since a month ago. While she was feeling this high-spirited, Angel took this opportunity to finally see what this music room was like.
It was far from what she had seen in Washington’s penthouse. Much less luxurious, but that trait only appealed the young musician more. While the whole estate setting was a bit too extravagant to her taste, the size of the room seemed just perfect to be left alone and play peacefully. Finishing her plate of food, Angel inspected the place, finding it a bit disconcerting to see pretty much the same fancy items, with none of the instruments she was so used to playing. Of course rich people didn’t care for such rustic sounds. Rock, country and metal were considered mostly barbaric styles by the high society. IT was unlikely to see instruments that could produce such music in such ludicrous homes.
And yet, her expectations were not completely true as, behind a bookshelf, there laid the silhouette of a black solid case shaped appropriately for a guitar. It was dusty, ancient even, suggesting it hadn’t been used, if not forgotten, for quite some time. Pulling the case out of its hiding place, the music adept blew over the dusty thing, sending a cloud of dirt floating in the air and emancipating a few sneezes and coughs from the curious Aberration.
Opening the case, Angel found quite the treasure. It was quite an old model of acoustic guitar, yet the brand that Angel recognized immediately suggested that the instrument was of superior quality, in fact quite valued despite its aged and even prized by collectors. Truly, Zhang was keeping quite the treasures into her manor, wasn’t she? It was a shame to not have this thing on display, instead of letting it decrepify behind some musical books.
Strumming the strings, Angel confirmed that the guitar hadn’t been used in quite some time, as the thing sounded quite wrong. It required some time to fine tune, playing with the strings and using her sharp musical ear to bring a correct harmonic back to the instrument.
After a while, Angélique was done tuning the strings, giving the guitar a test run as she strummed the strings into a melody. And as she kept playing and found herself satisfied with the sound of the wooden instrument, the singer added her golden voice to the smooth rhythm of the guitar.
Music that caught Hazel's ears. This time with a sweet voice that drew her in. Were she a bit more well read, a siren's call would be what she would describe it as. As it was, it was nothing but that sounds that grabbed her by her ears, a music with hands that pulled her towards that room. It was, unsurprisingly Angel. Smoothing down the black maid's outfit she had grabbed, she sat down and listened, observing the way Angel's fingers seemingly glide across the guitar, producing sweet melody.
Angel seemed to have lost herself into her music, as she paid no attention to the figure that had entered the room and sat beside her, or rather didn't see her coming in. As she finished, her sense of awareness seemed to have return as she caught the shadow of a silhouette in the corner of her sight, jumping in surprise as she realized a maid had been sitting next to her.
"Oh, sorry, was I being too loud?" came the question without much thought behind it, more like a discussion sparker.
But the maid wasn't any kind of maid. At least, for as far as the maids of the estate were concern.
"H-Hazel? What are you doing in that outfit?"
"I am sitting down, listening to you." Came the prompt answer.
Seeing as Angel had stopped singing, Hazel stood up and started examining the other instruments. There was one that was a smaller version of the instrument Angel was holding, but with an odd sweeping design on its thinner part and a stick with a string on it. Grabbing it by the thin part, where she assumed the handle was, and ran the stick across the length of the strings. It produced the most peculiar sounds she had ever heard, like a gutted cat wailling and screeching its last.
"I-I meant why are you wearing that."
Angel looked at the girl that had gone up to inspect the other instruments. She took questions quite literally, Angelique figured. She was soon cut out from her thoughts as the screeching made the actual musician in the room jump out of her skin, her ears not taking kindly to the abuse that they were going through. God, that sound only belonged to the deepest parts of hell.
"Hazel, wait!" Angel called out with a hand reaching for the bow. "That's not how you are supposed to play a violin. Want me to show it to you?"
Hazel nodded, before thinking back to Angel's previous question.
Why was she wearing these clothes? Was there something wrong with them? Did she have something else for Hazel, or did she just not like the outfit itself?
"I see. Is my outfit not to your liking? Then..."
She left no mistake as to what she was going to do, as she started to unbutton her top.
Oh god... was she going to start stripping just like that in front of Angel? In front of grown soldier dudes that kept following her around all-day long? Angelique hurried onto Hazel's robes, fastening the buttons back.
"Nononono, I didn't mean that either. I just thought it was weird on you, since you're not a servant in here and all." The raven-haired singer paused, glancing over the general appearance of her exhibitionist classmate. Frankly enough, the maid's outfit looked surprisingly good on her. Then again, the brown-haired girl always wore robes, which at this point made her sort of like the class' reference for this kind of clothing. Seeing something similar to her style yet different from her usual brown garments was refreshing, to say the least.
"Actually, quite the opposite. It looks good on you." Angelique sighed, glancing back at the girl's face and trying to make out the eyes in hiding behind those bangs. "You shouldn't remove your clothes as soon as somebody tells you they don't like it though. At least, return to your room to change clothes if it happens, alright? Not that you should care anyway. If you like what you wear, screw the others' opinion. Just wear what you feel you want to wear."
"I see." Hazel paused for a moment, pondering what she said. "Then, please continue to play the biolin."
Opinions... For a moment there, there was a small spark of surprise and warmth, when Angel complimented her. What it was, and why that was was far beyond her understanding for a moment. All she knew was that it felt good.
She picked up a second violin, though she still held it in a vice grip along with the bow.
"Violin, with a 'Vee'" Angelique corrected her fellow Aberration. "Alright, for starters, you have to know how to hold the instrument. Here, let me show you."
Having watched Lilianna playing in Washington, and experimented a few times in the music room with the various high-class instruments back there, Angel assumed the appropriate stance to play the violin; back straightened, the handle gripped lightly from underneath, cello brought to her neck and bow elegantly brought to the strings of the wooden instrument. The musician Mage kept that stance, waiting for Hazel to imitate her as she gave her a glance.
Wordlessly Hazel took up the same pose as well, though her grip on the instruments remained tight. She looked expectantly back at Angel. Was this some sort of procedure for making the same music that drew her in to this room? Already she was impatient to continue, her fingers twitching in anticipation of sawing vigorously across the strings.
"Relax..." Angel sighed, taking notice of Hazel's crisped figure. "Slide the bow along the strings. It doesn't need to be done so forcefully. Only a slight touch can make a good enough note, like this."
Angel's hand moved the bow across the strings of the violin, emancipating a low-pitched but precise note. "The slower you draw the bow on the string, the longer your keep the note. Change the position of the bow to touch different strings to make different notes. Same for your fingers holding the violin's head." The young virtuoso put emphasis on the holding part, leaning towards Hazel to show her fingers had been holding down a few strings. To show what she meant, Angel played haphazardly a few notes, of different pitch and different lengths. The music came out as a random mess, as Angel never truly played a violin all that much, but the notes were somewhat precise.
Following Angel's lead, she started sawing on the violin, first a long note, and then several halting ones. Trying to figure out what sort of noises she could make, Hazel methodically started to explore different strokes on different spots. Amidst the cacophony of noises, she turned halfway to Angel.
"Are you afraid of me?"
There was nothing else, but her gaze at Angel's face, even as she continued to saw at the violin.
Angel clearly didn’t expect this sort of question as her violin squeaked a wrong note, sounding very much like what Hazel had been playing.
“I… don’t know. Perhaps ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. ‘Cautious’ or ‘wary’ might describe it better.”Angélique replied, looking thoughtful as she stopped playing.
“I mean, The ‘you’ right now is alright. Sure, you are a bit awkward, but really is it any worse than what I am?” Angélique tried to force a chuckle at her self-derision, aware that she was good at fucking up so perfectly when talking to others. “It’s more that I fear the other ‘you’. The one in battle. The one that slapped Emma across the floor as if she was a mere doll, during the game we had a few weeks back at the Institute. The you who attacked and tried to kill Christmas, Ernest and I at Wisford.”
Angel paused, looking at Hazel. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I want to sound mean. It’s just… I can’t figure you out. I don’t know what to expect the next time we’ll be together on the battlefield.”
"I see." Arranging the notes she found, Hazel started playing them from lowest to highest, over and over again. "Marcus is afraid of me as well."
Concentrating, she started drawing out each note as she went over them. Slower and slower, there was an oddly melancholic quality to it, even if it was just a bunch of note arranged from low to high.
"There is just one of me. And I do not remember attacking Christmas, Ernest or you." Hazel stopped playing. "I see. So that was why I was in that hospital bed."
Listening to Hazel playing, there was something in there. Whether Hazel knew it or not, she had an ease of understanding music like few ever had at their beginning. “You’re quite a natural at this.” Angel commented at her classmate’s playing.
So she wasn’t the only one who had been discussing with her. It came as no surprise, considering his nature. Knowing him, he had probably been telling her pretty much the same thing as she was saying right now.
“Perhaps, but I think there’s more to ourselves than we think. Something we still don’t know about our Stigma. How else could we explain your bout of rage that you can’t remember? Why does Zoe feel this irresistible urge to kill anyone close to her? Why do I feel this uncontrollable anger that makes me want to tear the world? There’s something… inside of us that wasn’t there before. Something that wants us to destroy without even caring about it. I can’t fathom why we are taking pleasure in doing this…”
Angel paused, remorseful for the things she had done, but also feeling for those who lost their battle to their destructive impulses. Truly, what an unsightly thing that was their mark.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you in Wisford. I shouldn’t have said these things to you. Emma told me that you pushed us to protect us from the incoming danger. I was just so… angered that I lost the use of half my gear and having my private parts exposed, it felt sort of humiliating. I let wrath cloud my judgement and I didn’t understand what you were trying to do.” Angélique chuckled bitterly at the memories, still remembering how the cold breeze felt as it brushed on her ass cheek and inner thigh.
Hazel just remained silent as Angel contemplated their existence. It was far beyond her understanding; she had come to accept it as part of herself, after all — it felt good — it wasn't something she can just cut out and throw away.
"Do not worry. I am used to such things." The memories of that plain white room came to her, odd materials she could not destroy, music playing at designated times of the day, even the experiments she ran through and the exercises they ran her through. And sometimes what would happen if she didn't meet their expectations. "... even beatings if it makes you feel better."
She spoke the last sentence under her breath, with a faraway look. Putting the violin down, she stood up and picked up the guitar, before handing it to Angel.
"Play this?"
“God, Hazel no! Beating someone just doesn’t solve anything, as enticing as it can be.” Angel replied to the brunette’s last comment.
Really, just what kind of upbringing did this girl come up from? Was she the kind of girl to be disciplined with a rough beating whenever she was displeasing her parents? It sort of infuriated the raven-haired metalhead to think that such people exist, even if she should have known better, considering what was happening everywhere across the world, especially the violence aimed at Subnaturals.
Surprised, Angélique picked up the guitar Hazel brought to her. Did she prefer the way guitar sounded? Well, considering the young musician knew about next to nothing about violins, it was natural the guitar sounded way better when it was one of the instruments she had mastered the most.
Angel took the piano’s bench and set it between herself and Hazel, taking one half for sitting on. “Still, I’m sorry for what happened. You’re just going to have to accept my words as a proper apology.” Angel grinned, tuning the guitar once more before strumming the chords for a test play.
“Do you have a song in mind? I know a lot, given I used to do requests before.”
"No." Came the prompt reply. "I do not know any music."
Still, Hazel sat beside Angel, waiting patiently for her to play the guitar again, and perhaps even sing. Her eyes, once again, was locked onto her hands, the way she gripped the guitar, and how it would move across the strings.
Following after the melancholic style Hazel seemed to have been so naturally proficient at playing, Angel’s fingers moved across the strings of the guitar slowly, sometimes frantic, a mix of the acoustic versions of some rock songs she had taken a liking to play. And as Hazel expected, the singer eventually added her voice the song, making it feel like both went hand in hand and contributed to making the song whole.
Eventually, after a while and her song ended, Angel turned to Hazel, looking pensive.
“Say, Hazel. Is there… anything we can do to help you if you ever lose control again? I mean, you’re our classmates, I don’t want any of us having to resort to injure you to stop you, or have them shoot you. Surely there’s something that could be done?”
"Help me?" Hazel tilted her head slightly.
It was quite an odd turn after such a song. How her voice sounded, how she moved, the way she seemed to shine as she sang. A question like this after a show like that caught her off guard, enough that her mind went blank for a moment. The words of one of the employers at the Plant echoed in her minds.
"She's a clockwork toy, wind her up enough and she takes action with explosive force. But once she winds down, she stops and drops."
"I'm an explosive clock, explode and I stop," came her answer. She paused for an uncomfortably long moment before continuing. "The collar will automatically shut me down after a time as well."
A ticking time bomb…
“I… see….” Angel replied to Hazel’s analogy.
So there was nothing to do for her? Just wait until she explodes? How many lives could she reap before her collar could zap her out? They had been lucky no civilian stood next to Hazel when she lost it. But then again…
Maybe you should be the one who needs to be collared…
Angélique’s green eyes lowered to Hazel’s collar, her look growing dark as she heard one of its purposes. Was it the fate awaiting all those Aberrations who were considered that unstable? Collared and put down to sleep whenever they lost control? It was hard to tell if it was any better than the actual suppressing cuff around their ankle.
The raven-haired Aberration brought a hand to her neck, suddenly feeling the presence of her leather collar around her throat. “Doesn’t it bother you? To be living with that… thing around your neck?”
"It does not. Just as it does not bother me to wear these cuffs." Tilting her head questioningly, Hazel asked in return. "Do you not wear the same thing?"
“N-no. It’s just…”
For fashion? To hide something?
“a plain leather one.”
"Then, does it bother you to wear it?" Hazel moved in closer to Angel, staring directly at her, as if watching for her reaction.
Angel’s eyes evaded Hazel’s, which seemed to try and stare through her smoked shades. She never wore a collar before. This habit only had begun two months ago, when her mark appeared, to hide it to the public. Even though she was revealed as an Aberration, why was it so hard for her to take it off?
“I… I don’t know anymore… “
"I see." Her hands stretched out towards the collar. "Then, you won't mind if I take this off?"
Angélique offered no response, her face frozen in uncertainty as her hand absent-mindedly touched the leathery material of her own shackle.
Hazel's hand felt around the collar, searching for the unlocking mechanism. For a moment, she drew in close, holding both hands behind Angel's neck, trying to work the clasp. With a barely audible click, the leather strap fell onto her hand as she held it up in front of her.
"See?"
No more suffocating pressure…
A weight seemed to be lifted off Angel’s neck as the warmth of the collar left her. She could feel a fresh breeze wash over her throat, the warm touch of her skin on her fingertips as her hand reached out for the now exposed mark.
The black-haired Aberration’s gaze fell onto the collar in Hazel’s hands, then trailed up to Hazel’s face. So innocent, just like a child, like Emma said before. The girl probably didn’t realize the burden she had just removed from Angélique.
As if to express her earnest feeling of gratefulness, the emotional Aberration approached Hazel and wrapped her arms around the younger woman for a warm hug.
Angel could feel some tears of relief welling up into her eyes as she whispered a faint “Thank you.” Into the girl’s ear.
"Eh?" Hazel had no idea what to do as Angel enveloped her in a hug. It wasn't a grapple — so she probably shouldn't flip her over — but a simple hug. Slowly she wrapped her arms around Angel, following her example.
Another day of blazing the roads that started to become very familiar to the Aberration driver. While the road started to grow ever the more monotonous, there was always room to reflect on her past actions and every new discussion she was having with others. Just like how recently Angélique started to enjoy the cool breeze brushing on her naked neck, now that Hazel had removed the leather collar that used to serve as both a mental shackle and a mean to hide in vain what she was.
After reaching the manor quite late today, the raven-haired driver went to cook dinner and eat by herself before heading out to wander in the manor. She had grown fairly accustomed to the layout of the estate, but there were places she hadn’t been using at all so far. One such place was the lounge that served as the billiard room. It had been a while since the last time the ex-rockstar touched a billiard table. She remembered often going to the bar to play a few games with the guys of her band after a good day of work at the recording studios.
Angel didn’t suspect however that there was already someone inside the room as she opened the door to the lounge.
Chris had been in the lounge playing billiards in his spare time. He had made the first shot to break open the formation when Angelique had arrived. "Oh..Hey whats up?". He did is best to sound 'normal', but there was a hint of emptiness in his voice. The incident with Marcus the other day still had him shaken up, and he had been hoping that his time of lonesome self-pity wouldn't be interupted. Now that Angelique was here, he did his best to hide his guilt and shame, perhaps he could get her to leave soon enough.
"What brings you here?"
"Oh, hello Christopher. Didn't think there was someone here." Angel replied, closing the door behind her and visibly surprised to see the Dragon Mage already in the room. But maybe it wasn't so bad. They both haven't talked to each other for a while now. Tonight could be a good opportunity to get some news from him.
"Nothing much. I was bored, and I haven't checked up this place yet." The obsidian-haired young woman added as she walked further inside the room, admiring the furniture and especially the billiard table.
"How about you?"
There was a pause before his next shot. Should he tell her. He needed to let someone know at least, the potential danger he could be. "Oi, can you promise me something?" He said with a voice that suddenly turned gravely serious.
Angel leaned against the table, observing Chris' next shot that never came as he took this most serious voice with a foreboding question. This promised to be an eventful evening indeed.
"Sorry Chris, but I can't do promises anymore. A lot of those seem to keep being broken recently. But whatever it is, I will try to uphold to it, depending on what you are asking." The Aberration replied firmly in kind, replacing the shades onto her eyes.
There was a sigh as he debated upon if he should tell her. "I just want to know that....If I were to lose control in battle or whatever, you wouldn't hesitate to kill me, right?" And then, a shot with the cue ball sent two striped balls into the pockets of the table; As if the idea of his own death didn't bother him.
Angélique frowned as she heard this. Losing control? What the hell? Why did even the Arbiters of her class always keep talking about losing control? Weren't they the ones who were supposed to not be fucked up by a Stigma and be more stable? Was there something White Streaks had that nobody else saw before?
Sighing, Angel already didn’t like how this discussion was going. Silently, she took a cue from the racks and stepped at the opposite end of the table. "Now that's clearly something I won't promise. Whatever you are speaking of, I won't kill anyone in my class. I can try to disable, but not kill. There are other ways to deal with loss of control."
Angel's face was resolute. She had kept talking to everyone about how she was willing to do everything for her friends, even if it she wasn't will to kill any more people deep inside of herself. Killing a classmate was by far something she ever considered.
"What the hell are you saying that for anyway? Aren't you supposed to be one of those in control?" Angelique asked, her finger pointing to where the Arbiter's mark could've been on her face if she had one.
She didn't really know the urges he used to have had in his dragon form, primeval instincts that have since been dampened but are still faintly present within him. Moreover she had yet to learn of the incident the other day involving him and Marcus it seemed. "I don't just take the appearance of a monster, Angel.." He paused, as if the very thought of it sent shivers down his spine. "There's something...more...about it...Its like I.." Another pause, the more he spoke the more he started to remember the worst of the instincts he felt. "One of those monsters at D.C. Spoke to me."
Angélique immediately recognized the words, the speech, the way he was voicing those. A monster masquerading as an Arbiter.
"The instincts to destroy, right? That urge to kill, to maim, to bring the world on its knees?" It was less like a question and more like confirmation, a reflection of what she was living with every day. "What did it say?"
He took his shot to knock out another ball, his momentary silence seemed to confirm the first question, even though he didn't audibly admit it. After that pause, he responded. "It just said...'Why'...Like...it was confused…or something...Maybe confused isn't the right word...That’s all I heard before I was rendered into an ice sculpture and nearly fell to my death." He had wanted to forget he had even heard that voice speak to him, he didn't want to tell anyone, not even Siena, of it. The very thought of the possibility that those...things...were sapient only felled him with more terror and uncertainty.
Angel was confused by story. It didn't say much about the whole thing. Hell, she wasn't even there to know what was going on. "Are you sure it wasn't a Rogue? Remember how monstrous Factory was, and he was a Mage. Maybe that creature was the same."
He shook his head. "I want to believe that, but...The way it sounded…something just....just felt off.." He shook his head. "Maybe I imagined it...I don't…I don't want to think about that anymore...That’s not the worst of what had happened anyway...The other day I got into a fight with Marcus...At one point I got so angry that I literally roasted his leg...It wasn't as if I planned for him to rewind the wound either, I just...The anger wanted blood."
"You fucking what?" Again, less like a question, but more like an angered confirmation. "What the fuck is wrong with you people? We just came out of this fucking hell, are given time to relax and think about ourselves and what we did. And this is all that you idiots find worthy of doing in the meantime? Punching each other in the face and in the guts on top of roasting body parts?"
If Angel had no restraint herself and haven't vowed to not harm her classmates, she would have taken the cue and rammed it onto Christopher's chest. But instead she stood there, wrath seething. "We're a team and all that keeps happening is everyone fucking backstabbing each other or one-upping them in the face. Why? Why can't we all cooperate? There is so much to try and keep ourselves alive from. We don't need to fucking start worrying about killing each other on top of that."
He shook his head. "I know, it’s easier said and done though with all the bullshit. Believe me when I say the last thing I want to do is kill a fellow student, that’s why I wanted to know if I could rely on you if I fall down that path." He wasn't fazed by her anger; frankly he was expecting it, given the weight of his actions.
"No, you won't fall down that path. This is not your path. Learn to calm yourself down, or find alternatives. I'm the worst when it comes to speak about that, because I have trouble dealing with this," Angelique pointed to the mark on her neck, now bare to see in plain view now that her choker was no more "but if I started to look for alternatives to deal with it, then you should damn well be able to find something for you as well. Fuck, if you need support, I'll be more than happy to give you some. But don't go around asking people to kill you, because I won't accept it. Face it, Chris. No matter what you think, we need you, just as much as you need us."
There was a pause, perhaps some relief, that he felt needed. It was a feeling foreign to him thus far, so he had trouble hiding a faint smile for the brief moment. "...Thanks...Well…I'll try. No, I'll succeed in taming those instincts...Thanks for the advice..." The cue ball hit ricocheted off of one ball to the next. "I can't use that as an excuse though." He adjusted another shot, which missed its mark. "What I did to Marcus is inexcusable. I don't mind if he hates me forever and can't find to accept my apology, he has his full right to do so...but…I need some time alone, maybe I can try to tame my power better in solitude for now."
“You fucked up, true, but at least you know you did wrong, and that’s what separates you from a monster. Monsters don’t have regrets when it comes to eating and killing people.” Angel tried to put some light into the situation, even as angered as she was about the whole situation. “We fucked up, but we shouldn’t seek forgiveness. We have to remember our mistakes, so we can work hard to never repeat those again.”
“If that’s how you feel is best, it’s up to you. Personally, I prefer working with someone when it comes to using my power. Finding a way to make things work together for the future, you know.” She gave the boy a glance with a mischievous smirk “Plus, I can’t be called an Angel if I can’t conquer my fear of literal heights.”
He scoffed a bit at her last remark. "And what is a dragon without its pride?" There was a sense of humor in his voice; the whole conversation had de-escalated his anxieties already. "I'll ask for help when I need it, don't you worry."
“And Angels are supposed to be pure, but then look just how far I let myself fall from grace…” Angélique’s statement however was bitter and sorrowful. “Fine. Just... don’t let that ‘pride’ of yours get in the way to your friends. Trust me. I know what it is, and where it leads.”
He gave a solemn nod at her remark and advice. "No one's perfect, anyway." He didn't bother to finish the game as he hung up his cue stick instead, and walked over to the couch to lie down on.
"Being flawed doesn’t excuse me of murdering innocent..." the Aberration replied, muttering these words to herself as she watched as Christopher just left his cue behind and went to lie down on one of the couches.
Was he for real?
"Hey, Kilgharrah, get back here! I was waiting after you to play a few matches against you. Are you going to forfeit your chance of showing me up?”
Kilgarrah? Ah right, that was his 'media' nickname apparently. "Fine fine your 'holiness', I'll play you a few matches."
"Can't leave a woman hanging, young man." Angélique chuckled as she prepared the table for a game. "Speaking of girl, how is it going with Siena? Asked her out yet?"
"Well I confessed my feelings." He went for another strike, but missed and shot the eight ball into a pocket. "Damnit." He muttered. "She wasn't...direct. But I can tell at least that her response wasn't a yes. I haven't entirely given up on her, but I'm not going to force something like that into our friendship, things got a bit awkward there already." There was a bit of silence as he prepared to set up the next game, organizing the balls and straightening them with a triangle. "I just wish someone could make her happy at least....I can tell she has a lot of scars, from what exactly I couldn't tell you, but with the past events that happened this week and before it certainly hasn't helped her."
"Hmm..."
Honestly, Angélique would have been disappointed by the outcome of their story, but after what Chris had revealed her, she wasn't sure if Siena needed to deal with the dramatheurge that was Christopher as a lover. But then again, Allison had been willing to give her a second chance and reciprocate her love, so why Chris wouldn’t be given one too?
"Strange, isn't it? The world, hell even the Mages believe we Aberrations have it hard, constantly dealing with our shit. But the more I look at things, the more I see you Arbiters too are dealing with some crap. Yes... I've noticed Siena's behavior. And what happened in her room a tonight kind of gave it away for everyone there."
Angel took place next to the table, aligniging her cue to the white ball and smashed it with precision and swiftness, bringing the balls all around the table and pocketing the solid green one. "I can't know for sure either... but yeah, I wish she'd find someone to be comfortable with."
He nodded once. "Were all cursed, really. I don't believe any one has it worse per say, as we all have our own crosses to bear. I'm obviously not too fond of…well…Brent and Marcus, but at the end of the day they are still in my team, they are a part of me. I just have to force myself to get along with them in more casual settings...Like a sibling you don't like, I suppose...I just hope they have the same philosophy."
"They need to. We all need to. Otherwise, we won't last for long in this world. We need to be united to survive." Angel agreed as she shot the white ball on a stripped one, nearly pocketing another of her balls with a ricochet. "Damn... I got rusty."
Chris knocked a single one of his colors out on his turn, but missed the next shot. Knowing my twisted luck, I'll be forced to live while everyone else gets killed off in front of me again." Chris muttered, mostly to himself, and was barely audible. Despite the low voice, there was a sense of humor to it, as if he was mocking himself out of pity. Between what had happened in D.C., his talk with Siena, and Now Angelique, his inner demons were starting to show again.
"I suppose I can't get you to tell me, Chris?" Angel asked as she took the shot she missed earlier, managing to pocket her ball but also one of Chris'.
There was just pure silence as Chris went for his shot. As if the room had gotten cold, his hands were shaking and trembling despite what he tried to keep as a calm and 'default' expression of his trademark scowl. He completely missed the shot. Damn He didn't mean to let that out. "Tell you what, now?" He asked as he stood up straight, trying to play the ignorant card to avoid the question as he awaited for her next play.
Angel was no oblivious to the half-assed shot that seemed to be out of place for a player of his caliber. Walking over to the white ball, she gave the Dragon Mage a look as she placed herself on a good angel. "Nevermind. If you don't want to talk about it yet, it's okay. Like you said, we all got our inner demons to deal with. Sooner or later, maybe you'll find yourself comfortable enough around someone to share your story."
Opposite to Chris, her shot was straight, unforgiving, violently pocketing one of her own ball.
Chris shook off his anguish with Angelique's comfort, but he still felt a bit uneasy. "Everyone that had their rooms assigned with mine is dead, you know that right?" He finally choked up. It was just the tip of his turmoil, but he never expected to let anyone know of it. A sign of weakness he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to confess, but perhaps such a conversation could save him from the void a little longer.
"Y-yeah, I'm sorry about that..." Angélique's next shot wavered, her ball bouncing against the edge of the table as expected but never hitting its intended mark. How strange, to have tried to make her resolve stronger with their deaths, but she had started forgetting them so easily. Even Aaron, who had disappeared but was never confirmed dead.
"..." He went for another ball down the whole as everything that had been piled up for a decade now started to poor out like a broken damn. "And that’s just when I got here. Before that? I lost my first and only friends up until now when I was little in the woods, almost shat myself from being nearly eaten myself, got this DAMNED mark on my face." Anger, as he thrusted the cue on the cue ball hard enough to cause its shaft to shatter. "I lived in isolation for a while, My family knew but tried to hide it. My neighbors, other close ones, I think they knew too, but kept it...ya know…hushed..." There was a period of him slowing down as his hands trembled. "And then they all died too...every single one of them. I was the only survivor of my town thanks to this...Damned Curse, and the military 'took me in'." Exhausted, he nearly collapsed as he leaned onto the wall.
"Woah, easy!" Angel rushed to Chris' side as he looked like he would fall to the ground. Swinging his arm over her shoulder, she led him to the couch he was supposed to be laying on earlier. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't know..."
His experience a real personal tragedy. Not that Angélique didn't know what it felt like to be in the eye of the storm, but her loved ones never died because of her. If they did, the fallen idol didn't know what she would have done with her life. Now this all explained why Chris was so moody all the time and rejected everyone else.
"Hey, you alright? what happened to you?"
"No one was supposed to know...I didn't want to tell.." A sigh. "No...its fine...I'm fine...Just a bit...all those years of keeping that to myself..." He gripped her shoulder as he stood upright again, having regained some exposure. "Don't tell anyone about that, alright?"
"Don't worry, I'll kept that only for myself, until the day you decide you are ready to share it with others. She reassured the young man with an apologetic look, taking his hand and placing it down on his lap. "Just... rest. We'll get to have more matches sometime else."
Chris nodded. "I just want to be clear, the last thing I need is pity. Don't treat me any differently because you're aware of that."
Chris... it's not pity that I feel. It's understanding." Angel corrected him with a look meant to defy his harshness.
"I don't want you thinking I'm telling you all this so that I compare myself to you, but..." the raven-haired Aberration swallowed hard. "I know what it's like to live a tragedy up close. I... accidentally killed my very own fans during a concert. I wasn't aware of the strength of my powers... and people paid for it with their lives..."
It was something hard for Angel to tell, her voice sometimes coming out choked as she tried to untangle the knot in her throat.
He shook his head. "Like I said, no one has had it worse than the other, I consider are burdens equals. We live cursed lives Angelique, and you clearly went through the same hardships I have even if different in scale. I'm sure everyone has had that same...anguish...I appreciate that you opened up to me too with that, though. "
"I thought I'd share. It wouldn't be fair of me to know your burdens without letting you know about mine."
Angel took a seat onto a nearby recliner, relaxing into the comfort of the char. She felt like her body was getting heavier as well, but her mind actually felt lighter as well. Did it really felt that good, to open up her mind to those she could trust? But then again, what if Christopher turned out to be like Ernest and Brent?
We've come a long way, huh? Who'd know we'd be sitting in an estate in the middle of the wood and talking about our problems, when only a month ago we'd barely be able to look at each other in the eye while having dinner."
The black-haired singer let out a half-hearted chuckle. There was something nostalgic and sorrowful in her tone as she recalled Green Team's dinner. Aaron and Savannah...
"Guess that’s just what war does to ya." Chris sighed with a smirk himself.
Before long, Angel fell silent in the recliner, and quickly enough returned to her own little personal land of nightmares, tired of all the weeks' events happening, and her own lack of proper sleeping working itself into her body. Too bad that, even in her relaxed state of mind, she will never find peace in her slumber.
??? / / ??? / / ??? / / ???
It felt different this time, just like back in Washington. However, she wasn’t standing in a corridor, talking with her previous manager about success and profits. She was standing high atop a mountain, at the edge of a gloomy city of ruined manmade spires and cold concrete structures. There was no monsters to haunt her, no overwhelming battles to conquer. Nothing but large groups of individuals banding together at the feet of the mountain.
It was faint, but she could hear shouts. The more intently she listened, the angrier were the voices. She could barely make out what they were saying, but she could somehow understand them all.
As much as she hated them all, she couldn’t bring herself to scream at them. She had already caused to much suffering, she had enough. She just wished to be left alone in peace. She vowed to no longer user her voice to maim the innocents, however judgmental and wrong they were.
But when they saw she wasn’t moving from her mountainous pedestal and their words could barely reach her, they turned away, facing another group of people. Even from her viewpoint, she would recognize that second group of people; her friends, her rivals, her nemesis, her classmates. They shone ever so brightly, like a beacon of hope in this bleak world, but darkness was closing in on them. The insurgents that were assaulting her mountain in vain earlier turned their anger towards her friends, assaulting them with those same words as if they were rocks meant to stoning the death-sentenced. For a reason, those unjust words was hurting more than when they were thrown at her earlier.
With each passing word, the serene look on the girl’s face grew distorted into a darker expression, until hell had no fury like this woman’s scorn. She couldn’t stand hearing those words being uttered to her friends. As to bring order back, she shouted from high above on her mountain. But doing so had doomed them all. The insurgents were swept back from their feet and vanished into thin air, as well as her friends.
She only screamed more as she realizd what she had done. She had lost them, forever.
Looking down in shame, her eyes grew wide in horror. The mountain she was standing on, so tall and full of pride, was entirely made of bloodied and battered corpses. And on top of this macabre mound of bodies, the well-known silhouettes of her friends. With utmost horror, she realized that this entire time, she had been stepping directly onto the corpse of a brown-haired girl; her first love. Kneeling, she took the dead girl into her arms and desperately tried to shake her into life.
She screamed again. The world shattered all-around her.
The feathery wings on her back were stained in so much crimson that they seemed to have turned jet-black. Angélique screamed herself awake. She was back, lying down underneath a tree, not too far from where she had parked the car and went to relax while watching the scenery. Her napping spot seemed to have grown so much brighter than when she had lied down earlier. Looking up, she now knew why.
Half of the tree’s branches and every single leaves on the tree had snapped from the great oak, draped all around the sleepy Aberration.
It had been a whole week, and Marcus still had yet to explore the entirety of the Zhang Estate. He'd managed to explore most of the surrounding area, between hunting with Ernie and Brent, and wandering around the beach at night, but the inside still had areas that he hadn't managed to wander into accidentally. He contemplated between the wine cellar and the library, eventually making his decision based on the fact that anybody sneaking into a wine cellar at 11am could be accused of being an alcoholic.
He was impressed by the size of the library - it almost seemed like Zhang was trying to build a second campus all the way out here. Which, depending on how things were going on campus, or at least from what he'd been hearing over the Death and Taxes forums a while back, might not have been the worst idea.
Now done spending time in front of the computers with a smile plastered on as if it would help as she tried to communicate with her family, Sophia made her way into the library for yet another time. Absentmindedly rubbing at a eye as she walked through the shelves, she tried to decide what to read this time. It was good to read, to immerse herself in a different world where the worries there could be banished simply by closing the book. Unlike in real life.
Deciding to head to a corner of the library she hadn't yet explored properly, Sophia turned a few corners until... oh. There, some feet away, was a person. It took a second for the dread to come rushing in as her tired mind took its time registering the person there. Classmate. Classmate: Marcus. After yesterday's encounter with Angélique, did she want to fail another conversation? He's not that bad, she told herself. Yet.
Fighting the urge to turn around and hide behind one of the shelves surrounding her, she took a few steps forward. Looked at him with her dark brown eyes, slightly puffy from her cry last night. Forced a slight smile to her face. "Oh..." Keep talking. "Hello, Marcus." Her voice was quiet, but in the library that wasn't so out of place.
Marcus nearly jumped in surprise when he heard someone else's voice - he hadn't exactly expected anybody else to be here at this time, but it probably wasn't as out of the ordinary as he thought. He just wasn't expecting it was the problem. He whirled around, immediately identifying the voice's owner. It was Sophia, the poor girl who had the pleasure of being the only person besides him and Lawrence to have attended both Evac missions.
And with the state she appeared to be in, that had been doing her as much good as it had been him.
"Oh hey Sophs!" Marcus said, forcing an equal smile to his own face. There was really no point in beating around the bush if he wanted to talk to her, so he might as well have gotten the hard part out of the way first: "How're you feeling lately? We haven't exactly had the opportunity to talk since-"
He cut himself off there, quickly searching for something to replace the thought. "...in a while."
Oh, she'd startled him. Then... perhaps she could have walked away without him noticing. Too late. She had started it, and she would finish it. Even if everyone was insistent on always asking her how she was. Was it genuine concern? A reflex upon seeing that she was younger than the rest of the team? A need to feel that they were being responsible? A polite question? Probably that. Before all this stuff had happened, she hadn't realized how much humans loved asking that question.
A muscle keeping her smile in place twitched as she noticed Marcus's quick cut off and change of phrasing. Right, they hadn't talked since Wisford. Golden eyes and a snap. Say something. "Yeah... it's been a while."
He just said that, you. Pay attention. Oops. Tensing slightly, Sophia wished that Marcus would have given her something more to respond to. "I'm... I'm fine." Her eyes darted to the nearest shelf of books and began scanning the titles without really reading. "Enjoying the... accommodations. You?"
"Doing fine. We've been getting nothing but upgrades to our living quarters, which is nice. Means I have to map out the air ducts everytime we change locations though, which is starting to become annoying." Marcus joked, giving a slight, and only lightly forced, chuckle at his own quip.
He brought his hand up to the back of his head nervously, becoming immediately aware of how little he actually had to talk to her about. They hadn't known eachother before Wisford (a bad subject to bring up if ever there was one), and this didn't exactly seem like the best of times to sit down and talk about their lives together.
Apparently Marcus was also fine, and making jokes that he could only understand. Sophia only glanced back at him with a hint of confusion. Air ducts? Did he mean escape passages? She wasn't feeling up for this stuff and jokes. So why had she started this again? Again there was that urge to just turn around and walk away. But then she'd never get better, would she? Despite what she had told herself that other night in D.C, she hadn't taken any steps to get to know her classmates.
She didn't really feel like trying now, but... she started to choke something out. "Do you um-- which do you-- you... uh..." No no no. Wrong. Her fists clenched, this time not focused enough to bother hiding them behind her back. Her face began to flush. "I... sorry." Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Stupid.
Right. That was a dumb joke to make without any sort of context. Not that there was any context...so that'd mean it was just a dumb joke overall. A real poor attempt at lightening the mood on his part, as he could tell by the slightly confused look he got. He had absolutely no idea how to interact with Sophia.
How's your brain handling all that exestential dread and those horrible atrocities you were forced to attend?
Although, it seemed only fair, because Sophia stumbled through her own sentance as well. He gave a nonchalant wave as she apologized, speaking up to hopefully salvage the attempt at conversation.
"So what kind of books do you like to read, Sophs?" Marcus asked, taking the initiative off Sophia's shoulders.
There, something to latch on to. A question to answer. It wasn’t the easier to answer, but it was something. Sophia’s gaze darted around the area, scanning the titles of the books as she searched for an answer. What did she like to read? "Uh, mostly fiction?" But that was too broad. Theme. Genre. What about those?
She liked… something that she could lose herself in. Good character building. It had to be realistic. No overpowered people going bam and knocking everyone down within a few seconds. Lots of conflict. How did she fit that into words? "I don’t know," she said, making sure to look anywhere but at Marcus. But she had to give more than that, so it slipped out as a whisper, something that would have been lost if the library wouldn't have been so quiet. "Something that I can... lose myself in."
Fiction was certainly a broad topic, and Marcus found himself looking around the shelves at the same time Sophia was. There were a lot of them - all various genres and materials, somewhere that he might have enjoyed himself a few months ago. Back when he used to read for fun instead of it being the only thing to do as the weeks passed on mercilessly.
"Something to get lost in?" Marcus found himself repeating, a moment passing before he snapped himself back to the conversation. He grinned a bit, his eyes scanning some of the lower shelves as he talked.
"Now you're starting to sound like Siena." he said, before realizing something. Did Sophia know Siena? They'd been on DC Evac together, but that didn't necessarily mean anything if Siena had been busying herself rescuing people from that building. "...erm. My roommate. Real big into books. Huuuge bookworm, that one." he explained hastily, trying to give Sophia some context to work from.
Was sounding like Siena a good thing or a bad thing? Sophia decided to go with good. It made things simpler. "Yeah... I kn-- have met her." She'd only talked to Siena briefly once, that wasn't enough to say that she knew the girl. But hey, surprise surprise, she actually knew someone. Impressive, huh? That's four people, plus maybe Marcus. So considering that there are around seventeen, eighteen people in the team... I know less than a quarter of them. Impressive. "Know" meaning having spoken to them at least twice.
Realizing that her flickering smile had dropped while doing her calculations, she hauled it back up. Time to make small talk. Are you here to lose yourself in a book too? Want to stop thinking about last Sunday? Not that. The smile dropped again. Get yourself together. Running a hand over her eyes, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "You like reading too? Considering that you're..." Keep going. "...that you're here so early."
Oh okay, so she did know Siena! That meant he wasn't just blathering on and leaving Sophia in a state of mass confusion. Excellent.
"Eeeeh." Marcus made an noncommittal noise, giving the wavering 'so-so' hand gesture. "I used to. Right now I'm mostly just seeing what sort of resources are available. Check out all the places that this estate has to offer; know your surroundings and all that jazz." he added.
His eyes flickered across Sophia as she twirled a strand of hair. Another Siena move. He'd only seen her do that when she was answering questions about herself though. Questions she probably didn't want to answer. Whenever she was uncomfortable. He wasn't making Sophia uncomfortable, was he? He tried to make his grin a little more friendly, just to give the sense that they were friends.
Despite whatever their actual, working relationship was. 'Not great', as Marcus assumed.
Mhm, yeah. Sophia nodded in response to what Marcus said, but that was the only sign that she was paying attention. For she still wasn't looking at Marcus, though her thoughts were currently filled with trying to figure out what to say. Better to think of what was in the now than to think about a week ago. Still, no matter how she tried to find something, she came up blank for words. And with nothing to keep her in the present, her mind slipped back to the past. Not too far however, only so she was thinking of her time online just earlier.
Had she done a good enough job reassuring her sisters for the second time? They need so much attention. It was not a nice thought, so unlike her. Especially since she had just spent more time than she realized typing and rephrasing her e-mails to them. But it was her job. Even though she was more shaken up than either of them would ever realize about what had happened in D.C, it was they who needed the attention. And she would give it, just as she had tried to give reassurance to Angélique yesterday. I failed with that, though. On it went, until the world closed around her, shutting her in with her thoughts.
Marcus had plucked one of the books off the shelf, and had flipped it over to read the back synopsis. Some Sci-Fi romance novel involving a woman from the past and a spaceman from the future, and how things went down when she was suddenly forced into his world. 'How would she cope with the amenities of the future? Hilarity ensues!'. Not really his type of thing, and a surprise to find in Zhang's collection. It made him wonder how much of this stuff was actually ordered by her.
The sudden silence caught up to him, however. He'd not heard a single peep in response, and he looked over with a slight hint of confusion to see where the conversational hitch was. He easily recognized the glassy stare of someone lost in their own mind, and he gently placed the book back on the shelf as he half-turned to look at her.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Marcus said, raising his voice to hopefully snap Sophia out of her little trance.
Penny... penny. For her thoughts. Marcus's voice cut in, and she dragged her gaze over to him. Made herself look and focus on his face. She didn't share her thoughts. They were private. Not even if someone offered her a penny. Yes, she knew it was an expression, but still... she didn't like sharing. Should I tell him about why I was thinking the other day that Angélique isn't actually an emotional weirdo? Tell him about how my older sister needs me for support, even when I feel I can't give it? Tell him about how I still can't stop thinking about all that death?
Her gaze hardened a bit, banishing the glassy look. "Just... people. Family." She should have told him she was thinking about bunnies.
Family. He got lost in his own mind thinking about that fairly often. Even if he did only have Max. And Sammie, if you counted her - and he was reluctant to cut numbers just because of silly little things like 'not actually being related.'
"That's not a bad one to get lost in." Marcus said, his own voice slightly preoccupied as he started to drift off in his own thoughts, before slamming himself back to the conversation at hand. "All good things, I hope?"
You'd better hope, otherwise this conversation is going to come to an abrupt halt..
Perhaps not, but at this point Sophia wasn't really sure where she stood in her family. Whether she was simply needed, or actually loved. But that was not fair. Not rational. She really did miss them in a way, but... things had always been complicated with her sisters. As the middle but yet older sister, things were bound to be complicated. A few rapid blinks betrayed the liquid emotion that was beginning to build up in her eyes. Sadness? Frustration? She didn't even know.
"Yeah," she mumbled. "They're hanging on to m--" No, she shouldn't be saying that. Giving that away. Wrong phrasing. She tried again. "They're fine."
Marcus gave an agreeable hum, closing his eyes and nodding slightly. There were clearly things that she didn't want to tell him, but that was fine. Everybody had their secrets, and he certainly wasn't close enough to Sophia to ask about hers. She had a family though, that was good.
How big was Savannah's family? How many of them did you leave crushed and without a daughter or a sister?
There was another moment of silence as Marcus leaned slightly on one of the bookshelves, his eyes searching around aimlessly. He knew what he wanted to say; it was the same thing he'd wanted to tell Sophia and Lawrence for weeks now. Perhaps he'd been deliberately avoiding them, because standing here right now, he was having a hard time convincing himself to not just drop it. But in his mind, it was important. Something that needed to be said, even if it was simple.
"Hey Sophs..." Marcus said, his voice suddenly serious, albeit slightly quieter. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
The sudden change of topic caught Sophia by surprise. Just a moment ago it had been books, but now Marcus had gone and changed the subject. To something that perhaps would have been better left alone in her thoughts, not pulled out into the spotlight. Of course he was referring to Wisford. What else was there for him to apologize for? And why was he apologizing to her? Such an apology could have been given to anyone on the team, not just her. Because Savannah had been part of the team.
Those questions flew through her head, but were soon replaced with something heavier. Memories. Not just of the death, but everything that related to Sav. Even the few memories that Sophia held that related to Sav were too much to handle today, and a tear that had been gathering before slipped down her cheek.
The pictures flashed. Golden eyes. Dark wings. Purple scarf. The scene Sophia had dreamed once resurfaced.
It was too much. Too much. She had been pushing those memories away each day, not letting them get too close. Letting other things take the stage. But now it had been dragged up. She took a step back as her surroundings began to narrow once more, the shelves closing in on her. As that lightheaded feeling suddenly came back. Sav. Savannah. Dead. Snapped.
Still, beneath what the sudden memory overload was causing, something so ingrained that it wouldn't disappear even now prodded her. Apologies have to be accepted. So even as she struggled to find something to latch on to that would take her out, a shaky voice spoke. "It's okay, you shouldn't blame yourself. None of us realized."
"I know." Marcus said flatly. No matter how many times people kept telling him that it wasn't his fault, he still kept some of the blame for himself. The 'if only' and 'what if' questions that plagued his mind every time the subject was brought up.
"But I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
Because she's too young?
Because she's a person. And no person deserves this.
Age had nothing to do with it. Trauma certianly didn't have an ge restriction anymore, and for her part, Sophia seemed to be handling things reletively well for her age. The benefits of a forced maturity, Marcus supposed. If they could even be considered benefits.
The point was, he didn't feel bad because someone her age was being put through this hell of theirs; he was just sorry it was happening at all.
Another apology. Another automated response. "It's okay. It's over." Except it wasn't over. Not at all. It never would be, not as long as those memories remained. Which would be forever. Though Sophia had responded to Marcus's words, they weren't doing any good when it came to pulling her out of whatever was going on in her head at the moment. She still couldn't get the images out of her mind, and now it was showing more visibly. Especially in the eyes. In the shivering hands.
She needed to sit down. The thought surfaced through the current haze, and it was something to do. Lightheaded was never good, especially when it came to her. There was no chair nearby, but in her closed in surroundings she knew that shelves surrounded her. She leaned heavily against one, struggling to draw in deep breaths. One, two, thre-- Another image. "One, two..."
A dark gaze darted from shadowed shelf to shadowed shelf to low ceiling, then to the only still colored thing there was: Marcus. Focus. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Three scars. Hazel eyes. Not gold. She had this under control. Under control. Sophia's breathing began to slow, her appearance becoming a bit calmer. "It's okay."
A moment of confusion caught Marcus by surprise as he struggled to assess the situation. Dealing with people and trauma clearly wasn't one of his strong suits, but he was at least getting a little better at recognizing it. The shaking hands, the labored breathing, the sudden lean to support her weight; she was having some sort of episode, something like what Siena had.
Obviously; he was making her re-live what was probably one of the most traumatizing events of her life. Of course she was starting to panic. His mind raced to try and fix his mistake. How did Siena deal with hers?
that only lasts as long as there's something for me to focus on.
Something to focus on. There really wasn't anything around here to focus on unless Marcus wanted to shove a book in Sophia's face. Ironically, it probably would have been easier if it were Siena right now. There was an abundance of material for her to focus on.
His eyes darted back to Sophia as she muttered something to herself. She was counting. Good. Trying to catch her breath. She scanned around the room, finally ending at him, as her eyes seemed to trace every part of his face. Him. She was trying to focus on him.
He moved a little bit closer to at least try to help, making sure to keep himself at least in her frame of vision. "Right here, Sophs. Focus on me. Marcus. Everything is okay. You're fine. You're at the library." he spoke slowly and calmly as the attack seemed to fade; as Sophia seemed to regain control of her breathing and start to calm down.
Something else for her to focus on. To take her mind off of it. Books. What better topic for a library?
"So. Fantasy?" Marcus said hastily, quite obviously moving to change the subject. "You like the old 'faires and dragons' type book, or are you more into the newer 'vampires and werewolves' type of fantasy?" His tone was slightly stressed as he spoke - similar to that of someone who was being held at gunpoint or something. Forcing himself to make small talk, while also trying to make sure Sophia was okay.
Sophia focused. Marcus's voice reached out to her, something she could focus on that was more than an apology. She breathed. She counted. She would be okay. Okay. The lightheaded feeling and the shakiness in her hands would take a while to fade, but she was beginning to feel better, pushing those memories away. Now though, she was now in a strange rare state where she calm enough to string words together well enough, but still flustered enough to not worry as much as she usually did about how whatever she said would be accepted.
So when Marcus spoke, she responded in a way that was different from usual. She took the question and really answered it, focusing more on each word that was said now than the future. "Fantasy is just one type that I can like." She let out the rest of her breath slowly before continuing. "But... a bit of both those options work. It depends? I like any book that is written very... realistically. Not just action. I need very deep and complicated characters, and everything needs to be there for a reason. I need to be able to trace their actions and decisions all the way back, and I want to be able to understand why." She took another slightly shaky breath before continuing, eyes still locked on Marcus's face. "And I hate perfectly bad or good characters. There needs to be a good reason for why they turned out a certain way, they can't just be bad because 'it's great to conquer the world and enslave all to my will'. And--"
Then Sophia stopped suddenly, because she finally realized what she was doing. Her breath had steadied enough to calm her mind down, meaning that she was now very aware of what had happened in the past few minutes. Too aware. She immediately looked away from Marcus, a flush creeping into her face. "Sorry-sorry-sorry," she whispered. Shit shit shit. What had she done?
"Hey, hey. Woah." Marcus said, slightly taken aback by Sophia's sudden barrage of apologies. He'd been trying to listen very intently as Sophia spoke about characters and the like, trying to make her feel at least comfortable with talking while she recuperated. It was interesting to hear someone talk on about a subject they were deeply interested in, something that Marcus suddenly realized he hadn't heard much of despite his friendly standing with most of the people in their class.
Everyone had to be passionate about something, and it seemed like he hadn't heard anybody really go on like Sophia was.
"Relax, you're fine." he added. She at least didn't seem to be having any more problems, just a general fluster about her. "A character who's just evil with no real goals or motivation is like a cardboard cutout just there to get beaten in the climax." Marcus said, trying to empathize with Sophia and put her a little more at ease. "And a good character with no flaws has nothing to overcome - no arc or anything. They're just a cutout too - but we're supposed to root for them for no other reason than 'they're the hero'. I get where you're coming from."
She had just said twice as much-- no maybe three times as much as she usually did. Blabbering on about characters. Though Marcus told her it was no problem, the gate swung shut and now Sophia couldn't say anything when he tried to continue the conversation. She felt bad, leaving his words hanging there. Really bad. He was trying to be nice. She knew that she should say more, continue what she had started, but she had reached her word limit for the day. Instead, she just nodded. "Yeah..."
The sudden silence was plain to see. There was really no more to add to the conversation, and Marcus felt like he'd done more than enough damage already without risking any more by opening his dumb mouth. He brought himself back to a neutral position, shifting his weight on his leg slightly and rubbing his head.
"But, I've got other places to explore, and I'm sure that I'm not helping you find anything interesting on these shelves..." Marcus said, making an excuse for his impending exit. "Guess I'll see you around?"
And... he was leaving. At least this time, unlike yesterday, she felt a bit better about him wanting to leave. Being left alone to read something sounded like a very good idea right now, and at least there were no unforgivien apologies or misunderstandings between them. Not really. Just a whole lot of words unspoken, and a general awkwardness between them. Which was pretty bad but... perhaps not as bad as it could have been. "Yeah, see you."
Everything seemed to pass Lily by like a blur. Her mind, fragmented as it is, stood at a standstill. A defense mechanism of sort. The faces of the people she killed as well as the people she had healed loomed in and out of her fractured thoughts. Drowning out the voices of the people who were clammoring for her to heal them, she tried to fight off the dizziness from the amount of blood she had been losing throughout the day. Need to heal... to stop them from being so noisy... Her thoughts lacked conviction and she soon felt herself being lifted up, the movement making her head reel.
A harsh voice ordered her to transfer her injuries and like a clockwork doll, without really wanting to argue or think, she did as she was told. The black thread's appearance on her wrist brought about instant relief to the battered Aberration followed by Emma's tulpa's demise.
Still so many injuries... Even though she closed her eyes tightly, she can still see them... feel them. They called to her just as the people demanded for her power. Would she be enough to take it all? Would Emma keep on calling her shadowy creations? Would she be forgiven for what she had done? Would she be casted out and hated? There were so many questions.
While the teenager knew that her powers could and should be used to help, her stigma sang a different song.
NO. Hurt. Maim. Kill.
No... Lily closed her eyes tightly and tried to fight off that overwhelming need to follow what the voices in her head wanted her to do. She focused on the faces of the people she killed and that need to atone for her sins.
The small teenager managed to take and transfer a little more before she found herself completely spent and unable to. With dizziness threatening to pull her under, she slumped against Kusari and allowed herself to be taken away like a limp rag doll. She didn't even bother transferring the minor injuries to Emma's shadowy companion in her exhaustion.
Seeming as though she was in a trance, Lily remained silent throughout the trip, her eyes downcast and she avoided looking at any of her classmates. Though the small teenager was dead tired and wanted nothing but to lean back, close her eyes and sleep, she couldn't quite do it. Not because she was curious about where they were being brought to but because her mind was in continuous turmoil, replaying the events that had transpired merely hours ago. The voices in her head, both familiar and unfamiliar argued about the rights and wrongs of what she did and didn't do. Killing, healing... everything seemed to blur together. The line between good and evil melted together, the delineation becoming hazy.
It was right to kill because she wanted to protect. It was wrong to kill because they were innocent people. They were not innocent and they wanted to hurt her friends, therefore her actions were justified. Her friends can easily protect themselves and she just wanted destruction making her evil and in the wrong.
Was she evil? Was she wrong? Or was she a hero and in the right?
Somewhere in the middle, Lily was left confused with no clear answers. What did she do? Why did she do it? Did she want to do it? What would happen now? Would she be casted out? Prosecuted? Isolated? Punished?
Hated...
Definitely hated...
They won't cast you out. You're too valuable to be casted out.
But the people around me would never accept me as one of them.
Monsters will never be accepted in the society.
I'm a monster...
The words were repeating on a loop in her mind as she let herself be herded out of the truck and into a ferry with no complaints. Lackluster eyes surveyed the surroundings as they alighted the ferry. She didn't seem to take notice of how strange the small village was and merely walked in the direction she was led to.
Even when they were led to a large three-story house, the blonde Aberration still didn't seem to show interest. Normally, she would have marveled at the sight but an uninterested look was on her face. As instructed, she followed the maid as she was led to a room with her name on it. She didn't ask questions and she didn't look at the surroundings. She just removed the miraculously intact cellphone with its big crack in the screen out of her pocket, laid it gently onto the table and then unceremoniously crashed onto the bed. She was asleep even before the door behind her closed.
Whether she liked it or not, Sophia needed to eat. She needed to get out of her room, to stop thinking about all that death and about those "good" videos of her and her teammates. This estate seemed like a place that she would have liked to stay in under different circumstances, but now she didn't feel like even exploring. She made her way straight to the dining room without really seeing what was around her, and got her food.
She stood there at the edge of the room for a good minute, spacing out before she mentally shook herself. Pay attention to what you're doing. Go sit down. Yes, sit down. Blinking a few times, she scanned the room for a place. A empty table at the side would be good... Sophia spotted a vacant table without issue, but as she did she also caught sight of a head of blonde hair. Lily. Lily was there. Should she... should she go over? She wasn't sure if she really wanted to be with people right now, but surely Lily was different? Anyway, she should see how Lily was doing after all that had happened in D.C.
Walking over to the table that Lily was at, she hovered a few feet away. "Hi, Lily. Mind if I...?"
Lily was staring into space and surprisingly being successful in keeping her mind blank and free from what had happened and what she did just a few days ago. No voices seemed to bother her carefully empty thoughts, a feat she would definitely marvel at on a later time despite the nightmares she had the night before about people screaming and clawing for her. Seeming on autopilot, her hand slowly kept on spooning porridge into her mouth. If anyone would look closely, her food had no flavor in it whatsoever. It just seemed like she was eating for the sake of eating. When Sophia came up to her, dull golden eyes looked up. She made an effort to give her friend a small smile before she nodded and muttered a soft "Sure."
Her friend didn't seem so good. Understandably. Sophia surveyed the dull eyes, the smile that wasn't very wide, and listened to how Lily's voice was more muted than it usually was. Lily was a cheerful, supportive girl, not this. But after yesterday, she would be surprised if any of their team was happy. That slaughter. Both Lily and herself had watched Kusari kill as she tried to defend them. Been there as Angélique and who knew who else shed blood while fighting their way through the mass of panicked people.
Lily had also taken on injuries. Had taken on her own injuries, as well as those of countless people. And then been surrounded by many regulars who had been demanding to be healed. Sophia had had her own share of issues yesterday, but now she needed to stop being tired and horrified and be a friend. She started slowly. "Did you... sleep much last night?"
Another spoonful of tasteless porridge and a slow shake of Lily's head. "I don't sleep much on any night," she said in the same soft voice. "I hope you did though," she added after a few seconds of pause.
"Oh." What was she supposed to say to that? But then, what had she expected? "I think that-- that it'll be a bit until we-- I am going to be able to sleep well," she answered truthfully. Her dreams, when she had been able to sleep, had not been happy ones. In addition to Savannah, more dead people now plauged them. Faceless ones.
"Well, uh..." Sophia cleared her throat before continuing louder. "Thanks for fixing me... and the rest up... back there." She shouldn't have had to.
Sophia's gratitude brought back a little light into Lily's eyes. "It was a good thing I can help out even a little." Another small smile. "I heard you helped out with the trapped people," she deliberately steered the conversation away from herself.
"More than a little," Sophia whispered, before looking down at her hands at Lily's comment. "I... I tried." But only because Angélique had pushed her to do so. And still, it had not been enough. She didn't want to think about it, but that was all that came to mind. I didn't have the initiative to at least try, like you seem to, she wanted to say. She wanted to admit how the person who deserved the credit was Angélique, but it wouldn't come out. "I... it wasn't enough, was it? All those people..."
She regretted the words once she said them. Sophia was supposed to be making Lily feel better, not heap her troubles upon the small girl's shoulders. "B-but nevermind," she added hurriedly, "I'm glad you're alright." At least on the outside. "Will be alright."
But even when Sophia hurriedly steered the topic from herself, Lily still focused on her friend. "I'm sure you did the best you could do. In situations like the one we were in, you can't really expect to save everyone..." her voice trailed off as her mind screeched to a stop, refusing to think of the reason why some people who shouldn't have died did.
Can't really expect to save everyone... Of course Lily was right, but that wasn't really how people's minds worked, was it? At least not hers. I hope Lily listens to her own advice. If Sophia would have started earlier, not waited to be pushed... more people would have been unearthed before the soldiers had come. All that death and injury... "I got stronger, but only after it mattered most." Too busy with her thoughts, Sophia didn't even realize she had said those words aloud.
Lily's spoon paused half way to her mouth. "Do you think they... USARILN East... puts us in these life or death situation to push us to grow stronger? I mean... I'm not any stronger than I was before but like you said... you got stronger."
Huh? Sophia was confused when Lily began to speak about just what she had been thinking about, before then realizing what she had done. Did Lily really know what Sophia had been saying out loud, or did Lily think that Sophia meant it in the more literal way? Like, getting more experienced and knowing how to respond better? She looked at the Aberration curiously. "I don't... know?" She huffed out a sigh, rubbing a hand over the side of her face. "Do you know what I mean... by uh, strong? Like..."
"I'm talking about strong like our powers growing... and at the same time, I think I mean being able to handle situations like the one they threw us in..." Lily answered. "Not like I handled myself well..." she mumbled as an after thought.
So Lily did understand, it had happened to her too. That made Sophia want to discuss it immediately, to talk to someone who she could actually sort of communicate with, and someone who would listen. It was something else to discuss that didn't entirely bring them back to blood and death. But Sophia caught Lily's mumble, and changed focus. Sophia hadn't been with Lily all the time, but from an outsider's point of view, she thought that the blonde haired girl had done okay. Considering the circumstances. "No... I thought you did fine?"
"No, I didn't," Lily answered. The refusal to remember the catastrophic events was stronger than ever. Sophia will hate me if she finds out... but... I owe it to her to let her know what a monster I am... so that she can keep herself safe from me... She tried to pull herself together, to try to come to terms to what she was and what she needed to do--to say. But it was difficult. She wanted to belong and to be needed. And telling her now would no doubt destroy the friendship they had. She finished her tasteless porridge, using that time to prepare herself to talk. "I'm... I shouldn't be..." she sighed and then gave up. "Tell me about you first," she said instead.
Sophia opened her mouth to budge in and insist that Lily had done alright, but in the end she closed it, seeing as Lily looked like she had more to say. Except she didn't way anything, and only continued eating. Still, Sophia waited for a while. She was not unfamiliar with the feeling of wanting to say something but being unable to, and a worried look crossed over her face when Lily seemed to struggle with words. Shouldn't be what? And now her friend was changing the subject, something that Sophia reluctantly let her do.
She didn't like talking about herself much. Sophia considered herself a very... private person. Even Lily didn't really know much about her, did she? Stalling a bit, she asked, "What-- what exactly do you want to know?"
"Nothing you don't want to share. I was just wondering how you're doing after all that's... happened," Lily said as she finally put her spoon down.
After all that had happened. Right. Sophia wasn't sure how to start, wasn't sure how much she wanted to share. "I'm... okay. I'll be okay." The conversation that she and Lily had had back after Wisford came to mind. "It's... I think all these changes are going to take a while to-- to get used to, knowing what is now expected... but..." Sophia trailed off and shrugged, "I don't know." She couldn't say anymore. Didn't want to go too closely to what had happened at the truck. Around the truck.
Lily nodded, understanding Sophia despite a lack of content to her statement. The golden haired Aberration's mind turned back to the matter at hand. Telling her friend--no, warning her friend of the danger she brings with her power. "I...need to tell you something... that... that would possibly make you hate me," she started.
That... that seemed familiar. Something about Lily insisting that Sophia would hate her. Because of her powers. Thinking back to that day when Lily had come to her room, she pressed her lips together for a moment. What was it now? Inside, worry flooded Sophia's thoughts... and apprehension. She hadn't forgotten that Lily was an Aberration, despite the girl's cheerful demeanor, Sophia still found herself thinking about it sometimes.
Hadn't they already sorted out the hating part back then? Was there something new? What had happened during the D.C attack that Sophia had not seen? Did she wanted to know?
But yes, she wanted to know. She should listen, because if she could lend some support to a friend, she should do so. Especially since Lily had also helped Sophia in the past. Making sure to look her friend in the eye, she said, "It's okay. Go ahead."
Looking into her friend's eyes, Lily finally remembered that it wasn't really Ernie who she first confided in but it was, in fact, Sophia. The horrible things she did to the fake people in Ground Zero, the awful feeling that came after, the panic, the desperation. Hope bloomed in her chest that Sophia wouldn't hate her after all but it was dashed away by the knowledge that this time, she had used her powers on real people. But the dark haired Arbiter was giving her her full attention now, she was willing to listen. There was no turning back.
Lowering her voice, she spilled everything in a statement that said it all. Short, straightforward and harsh. "I killed people in D.C," she said, bracing herself for the hatred and the repulsion she expected.
Oh shit. Some of those people that had been lying on the ground when the truck had pulled away from the place where the people had panicked and attacked... that had been Lily's work? The blood, the death. Lily. Sophia's face portrayed shock, something she couldn't hide as her mind whirled. Last time Lily had done it, the victims had been those in Ground Zero. Not real people. But now...
It was only now that Sophia really realized to what extent being an Aberration meant. Not being able to control that to such an extent... The blood, the death. Lily couldn't have really wanted to do such things, that was why she was so worked up, right? Sophia could see that her... her friend didn't bask in what she had done. A thought occured to her. In USARILN there was Ground Zero. But once we left the school, did she have anywhere to channel whatever forces her to do such things? There was La Plata, then D.C, and we were there for... how long? Her mind clung onto that thought, now having somewhere else to channel those swirling feelings. At the people who were herding them around. USARILN. Zhang.
It wasn't Lily's fault. It wasn't her friend's fault. It was the fault of those people who knew that Aberrations needed a Ground Zero, but had not made any effort to provide a place for them. Sophia suddenly looked angry. Not the exploding angry, but the quiet, cold kind of anger. Her dark eyes, which had dropped from Lily's once the girl had admitted what she had done, looked to her again. "It's not your fault." Conviction. Determination. Lily was not going to walk away thinking that all the fault was hers. "They-- they knew what could happen if the Aberrations in our group didn't have a Ground Zero. But they didn't do anything to help. They just brought us here and there, not bothering to say for how long or where or why."
"It's not your fault."
Lily really didn't expect Sophia to insist the it wasn't her fault. Because it really was hers. Not because she couldn't control her stigma, not because she couldn't find anything to channel it to but because she chose to be an Aberration. Mages were supposed to have dreams where they choose to be Arbiters or Aberrations. She couldn't remember hers. She coudn't remember why she chose the path she was walking now. But no matter how much she couldn't remember, the fact remained that she chose this path. She took a deep breath. "It is my fault, Sophia. No matter how much I want to blame someone else, I can't. At the end of the day, it just boils down to what I am and what powers I have and how I lose control," she explained. It was strange to be fearing to be rejected and hated one moment and then end up trying to convince her friend that she's a monster.
Sophia shook her head. It wasn't Lily's fault. Yes, Lily had... had done it, but that was only because measures hadn't been taken to prevent it. She wouldn't let herself think it was her friend's fault. But what was she to say to continue trying to convince Lily, when Lily had already rejected her previous words? "You are a cheerful, supportive friend. You have the power to heal people. You might have 'lost control' in your view, but that wasn't you. That was..." Whatever it was that pushed Lily. "It wasn't your fault, you didn't want to. And you're trying your best to keep it from happening. You're going to get better. Right?" Was it a rhetorical question, or was Sophia really asking for confirmation?
Lily stared at Sophia for a long moment, marveling at how good her friend think she was. It didn't feel right to tell her that she was mistaken, to disappoint her and tell her that she was rotten to the core. Her words, so full of hope, made the small Aberration feel like she needed to get better, needed to control herself more, needed to make sure that she no longer hurt people just because her stigma urged her to. Slowly, she nodded her head, realizing that she was with one of the best people she could ever wish to meet. "I will. Thank you."
A soft sigh of relief. Mission: accomplished. It wasn't Lily's fault. "You don't need to... thank me," Sophia mumbled, "It's nothing."
The blonde mage reached out and squeezed Sophia's hand. "No, I have a lot to thank you for. Just for believing in me. That's already too much," she smiled. "I thought that people would hate me for being this way... I was scared of telling you. I forgot that I already did and even now when I've done something beyond horrible, you still think I'm good. It's amazing. Thank you."
It wasn't too much. That was what Sophia was supposed to do, what she wanted to do for Lily. But she didn't protest. She let herself, for a bit, belive that she could be helpful. I... I helped. Lily confides in me now. I might need her sometimes, but she needs me too. And there it was. She smiled. "You're welcome."
Lily
Lily's talk the day before with Sophia had lifted her mood quite a bit but not entirely. With her constant nightmares plaguing her sleep and waking her up several times during the night, she sluggishly got out of the bed feeling exhausted. Rubbing her eyes, the first thing they fell on was the phone that was laying silently on the table, drained of all its battery. She wondered if she should talk to the person that kept calling. Maybe actually hearing him out would give her a clue to figuring out who really owned the phone.
But I'd need to charge it first. she thought as she pulled out the single drawer on the table. I don't think they'd have--- her thoughts came to a complete stop.
"Oh," the small teenager stared in amazement at what appeared to be a brand new charger tucked neatly beside some blank papers and pens, its cord secured by a twist tie. She reached for it, released the cord and examined the tip. "It'd be so strange if this thing's actually compatible with the phone I have..." she connected the charger to the phone, fully expecting it not to fit. "Oh," she said again when she found that it was actually perfect fit. She furrowed her brows and looked around. "What a strange place..." she murmured as she plugged the charger into the wall socket. The phone's LCD instantaneously lit up and an image of a battery filling up flashed across it. She stared at it for a moment before wandering back to the bed and laying atop the rumpled bedsheet.
With her mind idle, horrified faces invaded her thoughts and her mood plummeted back down. Why this power? What made her choose to have a twisted version of what's supposed to be purely good? Why did she choose to have this incessant need to hurt plague her every single moment? Did she know and willingly chose it? Was she a violent person before she lost her memories? Was that why she had that gash on her head that should have claimed her life? Why did she survive it? Was it because she was meant to do good? But what does doing good mean if she'll eventually bring death and destruction?
Too many questions.
Sighing, she decided to get up and go out. Maybe some fresh air would do her good... Her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn't eaten anything yet for the day. Maybe something to eat would be good too. Trying to keep her mind blank just like she did the day before, she crossed the small distance from the bed to the door and opened it.
She would have tripped on them if she hadn't been looking down.
Outside her door were three boxes and a medium sized tub. "Hmmm?" Her nose immediately picked up what was inside the boxes when she leaned down to pick them up. Donuts. A delighted grin lifted the edges of her lips up.
She brought the boxes into the room and returned for the tub. Her smile widened when she felt the cold and realized that it was ice cream. She peered up and down the hallway, wondering who could have left the goodies at her door. When she didn't see anyone, she shrugged and went back into her room. Kicking the door closed behind her, she brought the cold tub to the table and laid it down beside the boxes. The ice cream tub even came with a spoon. Thoughtful. She stared at them for a few minutes, again marveling at how the place seemed to know just what she wanted and needed.
As soon as she got over her initial surprise, she peeked into the boxes, not really noticing the taped note on top. It fell off the box and landed onto the table--meant to be discovered at a later time. Her eyes zoned in on the chocolate glazed pastry ring in one of the boxes and immediately picked it up. Chocolate was always the way to go. Without hesitation she bit on it, giggling as she did. When she was half way done, she turned her attention to the ice cream. Placing the half eaten donut between her teeth, she pried the tub lid off.
"Chocolate!" she exclaimed, almost dropping the donut in between her teeth and laughing at herself for it.
Everything wasn't as bad as it seem after all.
Lily
The talk with Sophia, the donuts and the ice cream... although they were all good at pulling the small girl's mood up, it still managed to sink low. She ended up wandering around early in the morning, taking in the sight and surrounding without really enjoying it. She saw some of her classmates but she didn't really bother saying hi and made it a point to avoid them. Sophia might think that she was good but none of the others probably think the same way. Why would they when she herself didn't think she was in any way good?
Lunch time found the X-marked blonde seemingly on autopilot again, feeding herself two pieces of toast without anything on it. As soon as she was done, she cleaned after herself and escaped back into her own world, wandering the grounds and even falling asleep under a tree.
But as always, Lily's sleep was short lived and she woke up both tired and disoriented.
When she managed to drag her depressed and tired self back to her room, the LCD of her phone lit exactly when she stepped through the door.
10 missed calls and 15 messages. All from Sebastian.
Depressive thoughts and anxiety pushed aside, curiosity won over and Lily pored over the messages sent to the phone everyone in USARILN claimed to be hers. She scrolled over several messages that kept repeating the same name Hailey.
Come on, Hailey. Just pick up please.
Who is Hailey? Was she someone in USARILN with them? An older student? A deceased one maybe?
I know you're angry at me. But please. At least let me know that you're okay.
Why would Hailey be angry at him? Did he do something?
I keep hearing things reported in the radio about students from USARILN. Where are you?
So Hailey is part of USARILN too.
Please. Just pick up the phone. I just need to hear that you're alive and well. If you don't wanna talk to me... it's okay. Just... talk to me once... please.
I should really tell him that I got Hailey's phone... but it'll be so sad to tell him that the Hailey might actually be dead...
Hail...
You're the only family I have left.
That last message made Lily pause and stare at the LCD. The only family he had left... that made everything worse. How do you tell someone that the only family they have left might actually be already dead? Was she ready to deliver that message to this unknown person? She stared at the words until they blurred and then hurriedly put the phone aside.
Angélique looked quite lonesome as she sat at the table in the dining hall in front of a good homemade meal. She had come back early from her road trip with Zoe, given her red-haired friend wasn’t comfortable sitting for long. As such, Angel had time to cook something for herself for dinner. Even though she had a good talk with her fellow Aberration, the less reputable singer still felt somewhat down. Her first birthday dinner without anyone around to celebrate it. No cakes, no presents, no wishes, no one to have fun with…
Her thoughts drifted to the people she had spoken with recently. Most thought of her as a horrible human being for having done what she did in Washington, while some were willing to give her second chances, prove that she wasn’t a monster, but someone who did a mistake. It was hard, deciding what she was, who she should be.
Beside Siena, Angélique hadn’t spoken to anyone from her evacuation group. She had tried to avoid them so far this week. It was an unhealthy thing to do, letting this hate and animosity fester, but Angel had not found her resolve to face the others and admit that she had lost control. Because, in the end, as much as she may tell the others and even try to believe herself in saying that she did it to protect the others, it remained that she had lost control over herself and let loose her Stigma. If she had been more in control, it would’ve been likely that no one would’ve died by the hands of her group that day.
She might not want to admit her loss of control, but there was something Angel shortly realized. She owed apologies, much like she had already apologized to Siena for having involved her in this mess, and apologized to Allison for having betrayed her trust and her love.
And it just so happened that, on her way to her room, Angélique found herself stopping short from bumping into a small Lilianna, whose presence seemed to have gone almost unnoticed not only from her size but from how quiet she was. It was unusual for the usually spirited blonde Aberration to look so down, at least according to the few moments the ex-rockstar had spent with the younger girl.
”Oh! I’m sorry Lily, I didn’t see you there. My mind was… elsewhere.”
Lily was wandering around aimlessly when Angel bumped into her. While she had been successful in keeping her mind quiet and blank the first few days since they arrived, now her mind was cluttered with the events that had happened in Washington. The horrified looks on people's faces, how they crumpled to the gound clutching at their bleeding ears, how they had screamed in pain before collapsing... There was no excuse to what she had done. And walking around freely like what she was doing was unfair. She should be locked up and tied down like Hazel.
I'm not a healer. I'm a murderer. I shouldn't stay here. I'll just endanger people's lives... The words in her head kept repeating in a loop, punctuated by the voices of her stigma agreeing to every word.
Sluggishly, she looked up when Angel spoke up. "It's okay," she replied and automatically stepping aside to create space. "I hope I wasn't much of a bother," she added in a soft, dejected voice.
Lily probably had all the reasons to feel depressed, Angélique figured as her friend’s state of mind leaked profusely from her voice alone. Shit, she must’ve spent the last few days locked up on herself to look like that.
She deserved an apology, and like Angel herself had found an ear to speak her mind to in Zoe, the black-haired Aberration felt like she should be there for Lily too. It wasn’t her fault, partly. It was this goddamn X on her neck.
“What, no! No you’re not. I just spaced out. It’s my fault really.” Angélique quickly replied to Lilianna’s statement, feeling as if she had just insulted the depressed small Aberration.
I took some time for Angel to muster the courage to speak, but she managed to open her mouth, tentative words finally breaking the silence “Lily… do you… want to have a talk?”
Tired looking golden eyes continued staring at Angel. What was there to talk about? Did her friend wanted to know just how much of a monster she was? Lily sighed. She was just about to say no when a realization occurred to her. Oh...maybe she has problems of her own that she wants to vent out.
"Okay... Do you... uh... wanna go back to my room? Someone left donuts in my doorstep the other day. Maybe you'd want some?" she offered.
“O-oh! I mean, if you don’t mind, sure? It’s been a while. Kinda miss those actually, now that you bring it up?” Angel tried to gather her spirits up, but only managed to come up with half-a-smile. “Someone just... left them there? Have any idea who it is?"
Lily shrugged. "I have no idea. There wasn't any note attached to it. I guess the person who left it there didn't want me to know who he or she is. It was a nice gesture though. I'll rememer to thank the person if I ever find out," she said as an amused look came over her face. "So many donuts... it was sorta fun looking at them," she gave out a small half hearted chuckled as she led the way to her room.
“Sounds like whoever gave them to you knew you loved them.” Angélique replied with a faint giggle of her own.
And ignored the fact she is a mass murderer just like you…
Falling back behind Lily, the raven-haired Siren followed Lilianna to her room, her heart starting to beat faster as she was trying to come up with words of apologies to Lily. It wasn’t something she felt comfortable with right now, but it had to be done. And if it could help Lily empty her mind, then she would’ve at least done something good today as well.
"I suppose almost everyone knows that I love them since I used to walk around USARILN East's campus eating them," Lily said as she walked into her room. Once inside, she grabbed one of the boxes of donuts and laid in onto the table. "Here, help yourself," she said and stood there staring thoughtfully at her fellow Aberration.
Her curious perceptiveness kicked in. "You want to talk about what happened," was her straightforward statement.
Settling next to the table, Angel reached for one of the pastries inside a box. They looked handmade, that was for sure. Whoever did it used the equipment here to do them. However, she did not get to fully taste the bit she took as Lilianna shot the question at Angel in the most straightforward manner that could have been told.
Nearly choking in surprise, the now-turned two decades old young woman swallowed her bite hard, looking at the blonde Aberration at the other end of the table. “Y-yeah. Actually.”
Too quick, not enough time.
“I wanted to apologize… for what I did. None of this would have happened if I haven’t started screaming at those people. You surely wouldn’t have been tempted if I didn’t cause ear injuries to these people. I thought I would’ve protected you guys… but I fucked up big time. “
It was clear that Angel was remorseful about what she did, and felt overly responsible for what happened. The day had been loaded in emotions for the older Aberration, and words sometimes stuck in her throat as she spoke. “I.. I’m sorry for everything.”
Lily shook her head despite the barrage of angry images in her head. "No, there's nothing to be sorry about. You and me both know how difficult it is to control it up here," she placed a finger on her temple. "I've been...trying so hard to control mine but..." her voice trailed off.
Trying to confide in another murderer?
Her face fell as Kusari's words echoed in her head after the voice of her stigma. "I'm not pretending to be good but...but... I'm really not good...at all," she sighed, sank down onto a chair and hung her head. "I cause more harm than good."
Angel watched as Lily fell deeper into darkness, speechless. No… this wasn’t what she had been coming for. She wanted to make Lily feel better, not the other way around.
“Lily… please, don’t say that.” The older Aberration approached Lily hesitantly, sitting right next to her. “You are right, it is difficult to deal with. But I don’t think you are inherently a bad person. If you were, you wouldn’t be so down about it all. You wouldn’t dive into that mass of injured people and bleed yourself to unconsciousness if you were such a bad person. I think… as long as you can feel regret or sympathy, that makes you just as human as any one of us, or them.”
Angélique fell silent, trying to come up with something more encouraging. “Even if we lose it, then that means we’ve just got to find alternatives. Find some means to prevent us from harming others until the day we can manage to contain it.”
Lily blinked at Angel's words. What makes me human... She didn't expect kind words or reassuring ones. She expected disgust and mistrust. She expected anger and hate. Just like what Ernie said before. If the others find out what she could do, then they'd stop trusting her. "Aren't you going to yell at me? Tell me I shouldn't be coming near you or anybody else?" she asked, paused and then plunged forward. "I killed all those people and while I feel horrible about it now... when I was doing it, it felt like it was the most wonderful thing to do," she finished. It was really the first time she admitted it out loud. What was the use in keeping it a secret now that she showcased how horrific her powers were for the world to see. That and she wanted to see if Angel would turn and leave her like she expected her to.
The raven-haired Aberration quietly listened to her friend’s lament, finding her words oh so familiar. They really were the same, deep down. Two good-natured musicans having made the wrong choice and now paying for it in mistakes and lamentations. Just how cruel it was to have taken the path of an X-marked.
“It’s sick, isn’t it? Maybe it’s something that has always been there, or maybe it’s something that was forced on us. But trust me, Lily, you are not alone in this. Zoe feels the same way when she rots people from the inside out. I feel ecstatic when my screams pierces the air and make all those people drop. I feel… superior to others, when I just see them kneeling in pain and I stand above them. The worst part in this? I love it, just like Zoe loves spreading death and you love making people suffer.”
Angel felt disgusted by this admittance, her face clearly showing is. “And I hate it all. It’s disgusting. It’s revolting. I cannot accept it.” She spat these venomous words in such hatred that it was unsightly.
“But what can I do about it? I could yell at you for taking the injuries I caused and turning them into mortal wounds. I could scream at you that everyone believes I killed these people. I cried over my lost friends and the betrayal they felt. I could tell you about all the deaths we caused, about all the families we’ve ruined, about all the people we’ve let down. About how undeserving we are to be seen as heroes and how much of monsters we are.”
Just as if Angel seemed she would burst from anger, she stopped, her wrath slowly fading away in sorrow. “But even if I would yell at you for having done that, that won’t bring those people back. We regret it now, but it’s in the past now. Personally, I sure as hell won’t accept what I did back there, and that’s exactly why I’m going to right my wrongs. I’m fucked up, I admit it. But I’ll cling to whatever good I have left and make sure I never forget what I did, even if the world doesn’t know and gave us a second chance.”
“I won’t abandon you, Lily. Allison still loves me despite what I did. Zoe knows of my struggle and wants to support me through my choices, just like I want to be there when she has no one to talk to. So even if I know what you are going through, I want to help you, because you are a classmate, my friend, and you are not alone on this fucked up boat. I don't want you to become the monsters we see in the news or on TV. We’ll help each other out through this, alright?”
"Oh," was all Lily could say. She stared at Angel for the longest moment, a little unbelieving that someone would actually stick with her despite knowing what she can do and how she can lose control. "Thank you, Angel," the blonde Aberration's voice was both thankful and amazed. And then finally, her lips curved up into a genuine smile. She might not have broken through her depressed mood yet but she was really grateful. "I didn't think anyone would welcome me after all I did... E-- err... Someone said I should keep it a secret cause if people found out then I'd lose all the trust given to me..." she admitted, carefully omitting Ernie's name.
“What?”
Angélique was dumbfounded to have heard that. Who the hell suggested Lilianna such a stupid idea? It was irresponsible, if not downright counterproductive. Had people known about this, it would’ve made the girl the best combat medic there was on their team, ten times that considering she was able to turn simple wounds into life-threatening injuries. Not only that, but had she known before hand…
“Lily, who the fuck told you that? It’s the goddamn opposite! If you tell people about your power, then we can come up with plans to find you a better role. If we had known before, we could’ve probably taken our precautions even. We wouldn’t cast you aside for that. For fuck’s sake, it’s your power, you can’t do anything about this. It’s how you use it that makes you trustworthy or not.”
That made sense. But... During that time Lily was speaking with Ernie, it made sense too. Maybe because she thought she was safe staring into his eyes? Or maybe because it looked like he honestly cared for her well being. "I guess it's my fault not thinking about it before I decided to take the advice. And I was... scared that nobody would want to be friends with me anymore," she reached out for a chocolate glazed donut and bit on it worriedly.
Angel’s face softened as Lily seemed to be taking it personally. “It’s okay Lily, I can understand that but…”
She couldn’t be blamed. The fallen idol herself desperately tried to mend the broken pieces of her friendships and tried so hard to keep or making new friendships. Loneliness is a suffering that no one should experience, especially in these dark times. Especially for Mages.
“I need to know who goes around telling people those kinds of things. Whoever it is, they make it sound like we should be ashamed of our powers and hide them. It just creates more discord among us. I need to set things straight. Nothing good can come out of this if that kind of advice is given to everyone in our class.”
Lily frowned. She really didn't want to get Ernie into trouble. But admittedly, his advice did do more harm than good. What Angel made sense. Had she been open about what she can do, then maybe she would have had help dealing with her demons. "I-I'm sure Ernie didn't mean to cause harm..." her brows furrowed as she said the name out loud.
"Ernie!? That motherf-… "
Angel cut herself short from swearing in Lily’s presence. This asshole was the one who told her that? Not surprising, being the sniveling coward he was. Was he really Lilianna’s friend? Or was she being used by him, just like Ernest pretended to be Angel’s friend only to get close to an idol?
“Sorry… I… had a fall out with Ernest when we came here. He… just wasn’t the person I thought he was. Feels like… I’ve been deceived by how he usually acted around me.”
The young woman in her twenties fell silent, looking bitter as she remember her would-be ‘friends’ tag-teaming up on her for insulting her. “Just… mind yourself around him, alright? I don’t like gossiping and certainly don’t want to be telling you who to be friends with, but be careful. Some things are not what they seem to be. I think we both know that better, huh?”
Angel finished by eating into a donut, finally allowing her to taste how fresh and delicious these homemade donuts were.
"Not the person you thought he was..." Lily took another bite on her donut and looked thoughtful. And you fell into his trap. The voice in Lily's head cackled.
"But he's..." she started. What did she want to say? That he was nice? That she thought she was safe with him? And that she thought his advices made sense? But in reality, she didn't really know him. Maybe she was just glad that he was willing enough to hear her out and give her advice like a friend would. Now that she was talking with Angel, everything seemed to make more sense and doubts about Ernie began creeping in. You just want it to be him when there's so much more better people to turn to, the voice in her head voiced out.
Seeing Lily being so hesitant about Ernest, Angélique figured they might have had a good relationship going. But then again, just how true it all was? And how would he react if he actually discovered the little blonde Arbiter had been the one doing the killing?
"It's your choice, Lily. Personally, I don't like him, but you make your own friends and try to keep them, right?" Angel added, feeling a bit frustrated Lily was so attached to that asshole.
Reaching up for a vanilla-iced donut, Angel took a most serious face "I know I'm going to sound hypocrite from what I told you earlier. But please, don't EVER tell anyone about what happened back there. If you have to, especially to Ernest, make sure to have someone around. Anyone but Brent. Those two... have a hard time accepting what happened."
Lily still looked thoughtful but it was obvious that she was listening to each word Angel was saying. "I'll...keep that in mind. And..." she tilted her head, her golden eyes wide and curious as she looked at the dark haired singer. "I'm really glad that you're here and that you didn't turn me away like I thought everyone would. I'm also... sorry that I gave in to the voices in my head. I think maybe the deaths I caused are adding more to your guilt. I'll be better." She crammed the rest of the donut into her mouth.
"I-It's okay. I'll be there for you. I know what it is like to have voices whispering in your head all day long. It's not easy." Angel replied, not cramming her donut like her friend did, but she was eating it quite fast.
The forest green-eyed Aberration paused. She made Lily feel better about herself. At least she succeeded in making something good today. But this talk really was depressive, so...
"Had any progress on this memory loss of yours?"
Lily felt her mood lighten up a bit and she nodded. It was nice to have someone who understood and cared. "No, no big progress yet... but I was thinking that maybe I should talk to that Sebastian guy who keeps calling the cellphone that I have. Maybe he's the Sebastian you helped me remember," she said.
"That would make sense. I mean, you remembered this name specifically, he is in your phone contacts and he keeps calling you. Chances are it really is your brother trying to reach you."
Angel leaned on the table to grab another donut, honey-glazed this time. "I think you might want to talk to him. He could help you a lot to remember."
"If you want to remember, that is."
"I really should, shouldn't I?" Lily asked, nodding her head slowly. "I mean if it ends up to be someone else, then no harm done, right?" she added, sounding as though she was convincing herself.
"You've got nothing to lose from trying, girl." Angel confirmed as she finished another donut, her hand tentatively reaching for another one, but decided not to. "Damn, I should stop myself, but they are so good. I'm going to end up fat, and you won't have any left by the time I leave." Angelique chuckled lightly.
Lily shook her head. "Oh, you can have more if you want. My benefactor left three boxes full of donuts," she giggled. "And I've just eaten two since it was left outside my door. There was also ice cream... but I kinda finished that already," she admitted a little sheepishly. "Besides, today is a good day to share donuts with a good friend so have as much as you want," the golden haired girl smiled.
"Awww you're so sweet! How can I resist if you say it like that?" The Voice Mage stood a bit away from her chair and reached Lilianna for a hug. "You have to tell me how you remain so lithe after eating like that." She added with a way more light-hearted laugh.
Lily hugged the singer back gladly. She liked hugs and realized that it's been a while since she was last given one. "Genetics maybe? No matter what I eat, I still stay small," she chuckled.
"Some people are just born that lucky."
Ironic, given their current circumstances. Angel had her fair share of good genetics as well, having the body of a lascivious model and a golden voice despite her very poor eyesight.
Accepting Lily's offer, Angel reached her hand out for a plain donut, her mood having considerably going up for the better as she smiled to the blonde Mage "Yeah, eating donuts with a good friend does make it a better birthday now."
"Oh!" Lily's eyes grew wide. She reached out and took the plain donut out of Angel's hand and replaced it with a darker pastry. "This isn't much of a gift but this is my most favorite flavor. You can have it. It's dark chocolate. Happy Birthday!"
"O-oh, Lily. That's..."
Hearing that, Angel felt herself consumed by happiness. Really, this probably had been way more than what she asked of today. An emotional tear ran up in her eye as her face let a nostalgic smile drawing on her lips. Without hesitation, she shot up from her chair and threw herself onto Lilianna into a warm hug. One that she wanted to last as long as it could. One that felt like warming her soul.
"Thank you."
Lily grinned and returned the hug, for a moment forgetting all her worries and snapping out of her depressed mood. There were no monsters, no dead people, no Regulars clammoring for their heads. It was just a normal day spent with a good friend on her special day. "Oh, no need to thank me. That's what friends are for, right?"
"Yeah!"
Angel took the impromptu cake donut and split it in half, handing one half to her blonde Aberration friend. "Cheers then, for having a good friend on this 20th year."
The grin on Lily's face widened more as she took half of the donut. "Cheers!" she giggled. Just a normal teenager having fun.
Lily | Sebastian
Chances are it really is your brother trying to reach you... Angel's words echoed in Lily's head as she stared at the newest message Sebastian sent.
Were you in D.C? Norn? Is that what you're called now?
Norn. The name people were calling her... Why would this unknown person single out that name. Was he really the brother she can barely remember? Her finger trembled as it poised over the call button. It was easy to just press that button, ask and finally find out. But why was she hesitating?
Fear maybe? Fear of being rejected or disappointment? Somewhere inside her, she had started to hope that he was her brother, that he was the inkling to her lost past. Ever since Angel brought it up, the idea never really left her mind.
Just an inch more. Just a quick swipe to call...
Guitar chords blared from the phone and the healing mage jumped, almost dropping the phone in surprise. Gripping it tighter, she looked at the screen and saw that Sebastian was actually calling again.
Hesitation.
And then that sudden burst of courage.
"Hello?"
There was a sigh of relief on the other line, followed by a male baritone. "Hailey, thank God!"
"I-I'm not Hailey. My name is Lilianna Brandt," Lily felt that tug of uncertainty.
There was a pause. "What? Lilianna. Why do you have Hailey's phone? Where is she?"
The creases on Lily's forehead deepened. "I'm sorry. I don't know where she is. They... the people in school gave me this phone and told me that it belonged to me... that it was in my pocket when they found me."
There was a sharp intake of breath. "You... Were you found outside USARILN East with a head wound? Do you have healing powers? Black threads that appears on your wrist every time you take on other people's injuries?"
How did he--- "Y-yes."
Another sigh of relief. "Hailey! It's me. It's Sebastian. Don't you know who I am? Don't you recognize my voice?"
"N-no..."
"Y-you... lost your memory?"
"I don't remember anything. But... I dream of people... people I don't know. A blonde boy with the name of Sebastian. I-is that you?" Lily asked.
"Yes! I'm that Sebastian. I'm your brother. Look at the photos in your phone."
The blonde mage remembered trying to look through the contents of the phone. The contacts were full of names she didn't really recognize. The inbox was full of messages from only one person...Sebastian. And the photos. She couldn't access it because it was protected by a pass code.
"Of course you won't be able to open it. The night before we got separated you set a pass code so that no one else would be able to access the photos there. I don't know why you did that but the pass code is 8-1-2-2. It's your initials. H. A. V. Hailey Anne Villes. Look through the photos, Hail. And then call me after."
"Hailey Anne Villes..." Lily said slowly as she removed the phone from against her ear. She accessed the photos and keyed in the numbers Sebastian told her, half her mind convinced that it wouldn't unlock anything but half hoping that it would. Unlocking what she was supposed to have set was proof enough that the boy on the other end of the line was indeed her brother.
"Oh,"
There were so many pictures saved. Pictures of herself, pictures of a blonde boy she assumed to be Sebastian, pictures of them together, a single photo of a dark haired boy with sad looking eyes and a picture of her with people she didn't recognize. The teenager took a deep breath and dialed her brother's number.
"Why did you leave me here?" she asked as soon as he picked up.
"I had to. They were looking for us. They wanted us dead. I had to lead them away and I knew the people in USARILN would find you and take care of you." A straightforward explanation. But an explanation that made Lily lapse into silence. "I'm sorry I had to," Sebastian continued.
It was Lily's turn to sigh. "Where are you? Are you okay?" she finally asked.
Sebastian chuckled. "You always were a worrywart. I'm okay. I'm in Maryland now. What about you? Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Oh, I'm okay... I don't know exactly where I am but I'm okay..."
"It's good to hear your voice again. I miss you."
Lily paused. How do you tell your brother that you've forgotten all about him? "I... think I miss you too... but I can't really remember anything." The straightforward answer was always the best choice.
Sebastian chuckled. "Don't worry. I'll help you remember."
A Long Stay at The Estate: Snips of Lily's Second Week
Lily was in a better mood while she ate late lunch. It had helped being able to talk with Sophia and Angel. And finding out that the cellphone was really hers and that the guy on the other end of the line--Sebastian--was really her brother was what pulled her out of her slump. As soon as she shoveled the last of the food into her mouth, she stood up, grabbed her empty plate and glass and headed towards the kitchen. "Hailey. What a strange name. I think I like Lily better..." she mumbled to herself as she headed in. She heard the alert tone and felt the phone vibrate in her pocket. Must be Sebastian again. Ever since they had talked last week, he had been sending her messages asking her to tell him about what she's up to each day. But she was still holding her used plate and glass. He'll have to wait. "Maybe I should ask him to just call me Lily. I wonder if that will bother him...?" she mused out aloud and then stopped when she saw a familiar boy washing the dishes. Despite knowing that he gave her a not so good advice, memory of his brown eyes flashed through her mind and a small smile played on her lips.
Without wanting to bother him, the small blonde teenager placed her dirty dishes on the kitchen counter and waited patiently for her turn in the sink.
Another day in the kitchen. Routine was good. Gave him something to hold onto. Clear goals put in place, skills he wanted to perfect. Dishes were only a small part of that process. A shorter presence shuffled up beside him, one he greeted with a polite smile before he registered who it was.
She was there.
Careful now.
"Afternoon, Lil. Do you need me to do those for you?"
Lily pulled out the phone from her pocket and grinned when she saw messages from her older brother. It was really nice having someone looking out for her even though he was far away. Washing the dishes in a few minutes. What are you doing? she typed into her phone. She pressed the send button just in time for Ernie to say something.
"Oh, no, it's okay. I'll just wait my turn," she said. "Thank you for the treats you and Brent left for me, by the way. Took me a while to realize who left them cause I...sorta overlooked that small note," she admitted sheepishly.
"Hey, it's no trouble if you feel like avoiding some housework. Trust me I'm a pro at this stuff," he smiled proudly, putting on a bit of a show for his own sake, "Heh, maybe I should spell out names out in jam or something next time. It'd be harder to miss then."
He… just wasn’t the person I thought he was. Feels like… I’ve been deceived by how he usually acted around me.” Angel's words echoed in Lily's head. The small teenager pushed the thought aside for the moment, tucked her phone back into her pocket and gave the boy in front of her a small smile. "Okay then," she took up her used dishes, stepped forward and placed them beside the sink. "I don't really mind washing them but thanks. And...yeah, your names in strawberry jam would definitely be hard to miss," she chuckled. "But I was just in a gloomy mood then so that's probably the reason I missed it," she explained. Strange that she could still talk comfortably with him despite the doubts that were in her head now. Was his smile genuine or just a facade? What did he really think of her and of her terrible power?
Ernie accepted the dishes with a nod. "Hm? Did something upset you? Our donuts weren't that bad, were they?"
The X maked blonde shook her head. "Nah, they were really good. Can't find any fault in them whatsoever," she grinned and then raised an eyebrow. "Wait, did you make them?"
"It was a team effort," he admitted, depositing a fresh rack into the dish machine, "We worked together for the dough. I did the jam while Brent did the frying. Then we both did the ice cream." Hazel eyes shone with excitement at the memory. "He used his Overclock for the ice cream machine. How cool is that?"
Lily's eyes grew wide with both excitement and wonder. "Wow. It must have been so cool. I hope I can come and watch you guys make stuff next time," she said. "I finished the ice cream without sharing with anyone," she giggled. "I shared the donuts with Angel though..." her voice trailed off as she remembered their conversation. But again, she pushed the memories aside and focused on the person she was warned to watch herself with. "What else can you guys make?"
The boy's expression took an immediate turn for the worse at the mention of the singer's name. An ugly amalgamation of fury and suspicion. "...Angel?"
But the moment passed quickly. No reason to dwell on it. His easy-going smile returned as he began loading another rack. "Hey, more hands in the kitchen just means more fun. We'll make double the ice cream next time since you like it so much. Besides, I think that between me and Brent, the better question would be what can't we make?"
"Wow, that's so cool! I wonder if I can make stuff too. I'll have to ask my brother. He should know about stuff I can't remember," the girl replied. Maybe she could make pastries and ice cream too. It would be nice if she could. Then maybe when she joins the boys, she can be of some help to them. She watched Ernie continue working on the dishes. "You...like washing the dishes huh?" She remembered that bloody mess with Zoe. "And cleaning..." she voiced out her thoughts.
"That's the best thing about cooking, right? Even if you haven't done it before, it's super easy to pick up," he encouraged, "And yeah, I clean. A lot."
It was something he had to elaborate for a lot of people. It didn't annoy him like it used to but...man, couldn't a guy just put everything in its place in peace? Ah well, it wasn't gonna stop any time soon.
"You didn't tell me you had a brother. Are your memories getting better?"
"I think you're probably the neatest person I know...which is a good thing. I'm not neat at all," Lily commented. At the mention of her brother, she perked up. "Oh, I didn't know too. But they gave me this phone back in USARILN East. They said it was mine and then someone kept on calling it. Someone named Sebastian. At first I thought they mixed up phones in school but Angel helped me remember my brother's name and I thought maybe it's the same person calling. Turns out it was him," she beamed happily. "Found out my real name too," she added.
"Hah, thanks! If you ever need me to clean your room, I can do that too," he grinned, taking out a rack from the machine to replace on the dish shelf. He ignored the second mention of Angel for now, "Your real name? Should I stop calling you 'Lily'?"
Lily sat on a stool and wrinkled her nose. "No, no, I like Lily better than Hailey actually," she said, wresting her chin on her arms. "I'll have to convince Sebastian to start calling me Lily but it's still nice to know my real name and that I have family."
Family, huh? Ernie covered the tug in his heart with a vigorous scrub of another dish.
"Yeah, I'm real happy for you. Maybe you can FaceTime him sometime and introduce him to me."
But back to the more serious matter.
"So, uh, you hang out with Angel a lot?"
Lily dangled her feet happily, completely unaware of any discomfort she might be causing the hazel eyed boy. "Sure. It'd be nice to introduce a friend to him. I'm sure he'd appreciate meeting people I hang out with," She was about to say that she'd want to introduce other friends like Angel too when the singer's words echoed in her head again. “Sorry… I… had a fall out with Ernest when we came here.
Chastising herself for not being sensitive enough, she still answered his question. "Once in a while. She helped me remember stuff and we play music together," was her simple reply but it was obvious that she was fond of the dark haired Aberration.
"I mean, you shared donuts with her," Ernie prodded a bit harder, slightly miffed by the image of the punk whore pigging into his hard work. Lily could share her gift with people, just not...her. "So you must have talked recently, right?"
At his prodding, Lily wondered exactly what happened between the two of them. While Ernie kept up a pleasant face, her perceptiveness told her that he was in no way fond of the singer. But as always, she didn't ask but answered the question directed at her. "Yeah, we did," she didn't want to elaborate more. Suddenly she felt trapped between two warring countries. She can still remember the look on Angel's face when she told her about Ernie.
"Did she know that it was me and Brent that made the donuts?"
Lily laughed at the question. "No, she doesn't. I actually just found out they were from you two when she left," she admitted, feeling silly.
"Hah! Yeah," Ernie barked out a sharp laugh, "I bet she would've spat them out if she knew we two made those. Probably wouldn't have even appreciated it."
"Oh," Lily said, not really expecting that kind of reaction from Ernie. Golden eyes narrowed. The girl was more curious now than ever. Too much curiosity usually made her ask. And when she wants to know something, she asks straightforwardly. "Do you hate her?"
He hesitated, his expression shifting through waves of hurt, confusion and anger.
"I...think I do," he started unsuredly but grew in resolve as he went on, "Nah, yeah. Sometimes I wish I didn't, that we could go back to being friends but like..."
His brow furrowed. No. She had made it very clear how she felt about her actions.
"She made her choice. Brent and I made ours. What she did--what she believes--it's not something I can just overlook. So yeah, I hate her. Because she was wrong and she refuses to even acknowledge it. But it's fine. She hates me too."
Yet he stayed friends with Marcus. Yet he tutored Siena in her driving skills. Someone had to take the fall for the others in his life, huh? A sacrifice for his greater good. Angel was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Easier to just shift all the hatred to one target, blame her for a group's misgivings.
He fell silent, wiping at the dishes more sullenly now.
Lily listened silently. To her it seemed like the friendship between her two friends can still be saved. Especially when one actually wishes for them to go back to being in good terms with each other. But of course, she could still be wrong and voicing out her thoughts might not be a good idea. "Why not try to patch things up with her?" she asked anyway.
Ernie considered it for only a brief second. "Because I don't want to."
"Oh." Lily stopped dangling her legs. There really was nothing more to say to that. "I hope you won't hate me like that," she mumbled, not really realizing that she said it out loud.
She was there.
The notion looped in Ernie's head as he stared at the sink. Of course. There were still people who were on the truck he hadn't interrogated yet.
"Why...would I hate you?" he asked, his voice taking on a peculiar tone as he tried to sound clueless about her comment.
There were so many reasons. Because I'm a monster and I kill. Because I think maybe you're just pretending to be nice to me when you probably hate my guts already. Because Aberrations like me should be locked up so that I don't hurt anyone again. Because I told Angel that it was you who gave me that advice. Because I'm doubting you despite wanting to like you... Lily's mood plummeted a little. "Because..." She sat up straight and pointed to the X mark at the base of her throat.
Was that it? Ernie chuckled in relief.
"I'm not gonna hate you because you have a Stigma. You...seem like a good person to me, someone who's trying their best." Unlike some people who could name. "You've been working on it, right? I saw you with Emma's tulpa in D.C."
But he saw nothing that came after. He tried to hold out some hope for her, for now at least.
Lily wanted to tell him what happened and what she did. But Angel's words kept on repeating over and over in her head. And she was sure that he'd hate her when he finds out. Wasn't he the one who said that people would lose trust in her if they found out? Did what he said apply to him? "I'm...gonna do better," she said, opting not to say anything else. She really didn't want to see hate in those brown eyes.
"Heh, better than me at least," Ernie shrugged cluelessly, wrapping up his dishcleaning efforts by washing his hands, "It's good to see you aiming high. Makes me want to work hard too."
"Let's do our best, then," Lily said in a small voice, feeling guilt tug at her for not being honest.
After all the dishes were done, the pair departed the kitchen with more light conversation. But there was still something troubling Ernie.
She was there.
He needed to know. He couldn't let her go until he did.
As the kitchen doors closed behind them, Ernie turned to Lily, stopping in his tracks.
"I have one more thing to ask you."
No going back.
"In D.C., back on the evac team, did Angel...really murder those people?"
While she thought she could keep it among herself and the people who actually witnessed it, he just had to ask. Again she felt that two opposing forces pull at her. One urged her to come clean with the guy who knew exactly what she was capable of doing and the other pushing her to keep her mouth close the way Angel told her to. The answer to his question was really simple. It was already in her mind, just waiting for her to say it out loud. No, she didn't. I did. But can she really trust him? Did she know him enough to say that he'd still remain her friend even when he knew the terrible thing she did? Golden eyes met hazel brown ones and she felt that familar comforting feeling. Strange. What was it about his eyes?
"No, she didn't," she said.
Ernie's heart plummeted. No...
"What," he said lowly, "do you mean?"
Lily held Ernie's gaze and she wondered if he could read the truth in her eyes. She wanted to admit it but at the same time she didn't. She didn't want to say it out loud. She didn't need to remember how much of a monster she is after her mood had significantly lightened up from her earlier conversations with Sophia, Angel, Sebastian and Lawrence. And then there's that persistent doubt that Angel had successfully seeded in her mind. "It means she didn't kill those people."
But he saw the bleeding ears, the bodies so callously tossed aside by a forceful shout. The cause of death was the kind of head trauma that only Angel's powers could provoke.
"If she didn't do it," his voice was trembling. He already knew the answer, "then who did?"
He knew. Lily could see it in his eyes. She didn't want him to hate her or see fear or mistrust in his eyes so she remained silent and just as silently turned and walked away.
"No," he grasped her shoulder firmly, talking to her back, "You don't get to walk away. I ruined everything because of this."
Lily would have shrugged his hand off her shoulder but his words made her stop. Reluctantly, she stayed but kept her back to Ernie. She didn't wanna see his eyes. She didn't say anything but waited for him to explain what he just said.
"She lied to us!" he snarled, "For you, for everyone on that fucking truck, and you don't even have the decency to own up to it properly?!"
His words were confusing to the blonde Mage and despite not wanting to face the boy, Lily turned around, her eyes flashing with exasperation mixed with confusion and weariness. "What are you talking about? Do you want me to just go around announcing to people that I killed people just because I thought it was the right thing to do?" she demanded in a voice that matched his.
"You could have been honest with me at least. What do you mean 'the right thing to do'? Don't tell me you're just like her, with your 'it was the only option, I needed to protect my friends' bullshit."
The small girl fought to keep her temper in check. She might shift from being manic to depressed easily but she didn't lose her temper much. But with how the current conversation--or fight--was going, the frustration was tipping the scale dangerously. Her hands balled into a fist in an effort not to shout. She took a deep breath and when she began speaking again, her voice was calm and cold. "I'm not making excuses for what I did. I didn't do it to protect anyone. I might have thought I did but I did it because I wanted to." There really was no sense in hiding it. That was exactly what being an X meant. No matter how hard she tried to justify her actions, at the end of the road, it really was just that need to kill. "How can I be honest with you when you were the one who told me that people would lose their trust in me if they knew what I can do. Tell me now, do you still trust me? Did you ever trust me?" she challenged.
Ernie grit his teeth. More and more lying, murderous bastards in this class. He'd never see the end of it.
"I didn't. And I don't. The only difference between then and now is that now, I've finally got good reason for it."
His hands started to ball into fists. Of course he knew how the fucking Stigma worked but he still just couldn't believe it.
"How could you have possibly thought that it was the right thing to do?"
Angel was right all along. Ernest really wasn't the person he appears to be. How could she have taken advice from a person who didn't trust her in the first place? All traces of anger or emotion left Lily's face as she looked into the boy's eyes. "I don't have to explain myself to someone who doesn't trust me, now do I?" she said before turning and walking away. There was no need to stay this time.
Well. He had all the answers. What the fuck was he meant to do now?
Are you satisfied?
His eyes narrowed. There were still pieces missing, information that he would've obtained if he'd just swung his trap the way he always did. Of course he didn't trust her! He acted based on the evidence he'd seen. It was different from him and Brent. The Arbiter had bared everything to him. It was only fair to trust him back in the same way. But this? This blindness that he needed to throw himself into to repair these relationships? The insane leap of faith required to salvage what he still had with the people he hoped he still cared about? That basic human empathy needed to move on and forgive someone?
Ernie had never been so incapable, so lacking of anything in his life.
Well, he supposed it was only fair. Trust was a two-way street. If he couldn't extend the effort then why should she?
"I suppose you don't," he chuckled bitterly and walked off himself.
Lily made her way to the music room, not really paying attention to where she was goinf because her nose was buried in her cellphone. Having a brother to communicate with was a welcome change, one that she made sure to do every day.
Hey Seb. What's for lunch?
Morning little sis. Potato and some sort of soup. Yours? What are you up to today?
Nothing. Not hungry. I wanna play music.
Frustrated? What's wrong?
Friends and not friends. How do you know I'm frustrated?
You used to play music when you're frustrated, angry or happy. I just guessed which.
Oh. I don't even know what to play.
Violin. Start with C# minor and take it from there. It'll come to you.
Lily stared at her phone for a few minutes, texted an okay to Sebastian and then pocketed her phone. Once inside the music room (which was thankfully empty), she made a beeline for the violin and wasted no time placing it against her chin. "C# minor..." she muttered and began playing Nocturne, the melody bouncing on the walls of the small room.
One day truly never goes the same as the others before…
After Angélique has messed around long enough with Marcus and Kusari on the shooting range, her shoulder felt sore from the repeated backlash of the rifle against her naked shoulder bone. She really ought to buy a pad or wear thicker clothing when she goes for a shooting session.
Wandering the halls after a well-deserved and simply lunch, Angel found herself drawn to something that was faintly coming out from one of the rooms. Music from… a violin? Was it who she was thinking it was?
Hurried steps brought the raven-haired musician to the estate’s music room. And, as she expected, she found the small form of a blonde Aberration playing the violin. The scene was breathtaking, just as the music that came out from the instrument.
Unwilling to disturb Lilianna in her play, Angel stood at the door’s frame, leaning on it with crossed arms as she listened to the song and waited for Lily to be done with her piece.
Lily willed her mind to go blank as she closed her eyes. There was no Lily, no USARILN East, no monsters, no Subnaturals, no Regulars, no deaths, no brown eyed boys who spoke of trust when he himself couldn't trust. There was only music and the music both relaxed and brought her peace. She had no idea how she was playing it without any memory of a piece but the movements of her hands translated to music on the instrument. When she was done, she stood there with her eyes still closed and her back turned from Angel. "C# minor..." she muttered again, wondering if what she had played was something she was fond of playing before. She had no idea that she had an audience.
When Lilianna was done playing, Angel pushed herself away from the door frame. It was enthralling, and especially enjoying to see she wasn’t the only musician in her class. Really, such an oddly grouping of gifted individuals everyone had been.
“Mind if I join in?” Angélique asked as she walked into the room, going for the guitar she had left on display after finding one behind a bookshelf on the day before, when she was playing with Hazel. “It was… beautiful. Really, you must’ve been a professional back then.”
Compared to last week, on her birthday, when Angel had spoken with Lily, it was noticeable how the raven-haired singer was in higher spirits these days. From her bearings to her voice, it was clear time had started to heal a few wounds. Or at least she managed to cope with her feelings a bit better.
Lily turned around and smiled when she saw Angel walking in. "Oh, I didn't know you were there, Angel. Feel free to join in," She made a welcoming gesture with her bow. "No, Seb said I was just really fond of playing music. Last week I tried playing the flute. That turned out really well. Seb also said that I've dabbled with playing the piano before too," she said as she watched her tall friend go for a guitar. "Looks like you're in a good mood today," she observed.
Angel nodded quite enthusiastically as she opened the guitar case and took the acoustic instrument from it, setting it up on her knees as she took a nearby seat and looked up to Lily with a smile. “Yes. I’ve… tried to settle some things down with some of the others. It mostly went well and…” the young woman paused, reflecting on her eight-hour trips she was making every day. “I’ve had a lot of time to think on the road. Sate my Stigma, think of the second chances we’ve been give and especially getting to drive such a fantastic car all day long.” Angélique mentioned the last part with a wide grin.
Strumming the chords of the guitar a few times to verify it was still tuned up like yesterday, the sunglasses-wearing Aberration rewinded their discussion a bit back.
“So you’ve been talking to your brother? Everything went well, I hope?”
Sebastian will always be a favorite topic now that she had found him again. Lily nodded. "It's nice to finally put a voice and face to a name. And he's been helping me remember some stuff. My name for example. It's actually Hailey... though I like Lily better,"she narrated. "Also nice to have someone to complain to when I get frustrated," she frowned a bit.
While Lilianna was narrating her happening with her brother, Angel was mindlessly striking the strings of her instrument in a just low enough melody to be able to hear the blonde Mage as she spoke. It was good to see her friend uncovering fragments of her past and being joyful about it. There was still hope for Lily yet.
“Hailey, huh? That’s… quite different from Lilianna. Do you want me to start calling you by your previous name? Whichever you feel more comfortable with, I guess.”
While Angel would usually laugh at complaining to a sibling about anything, Angel’s expression slightly took on a more concerned note. Lily was frowning. Did something happened that made her bitter?
“Is there something bothering you, Hail-… Lily?” Angélique inquired softly, unsure which name she should use for her friend now.
"Lily is fine," The X marked girl watched Angel's fingers on the string of the guitar, contemplating on why she was frustrated in the first place.
I didn't. And I don't. The only difference between then and now is that now, I've finally got good reason for it.
Yes. That was it exactly. It was infuriating that the one person who she thought had her back was just pretending. Exactly as Angel said. It was also annoying that she can't seem to figure out why his eyes mattered to her. It's not as if he's the only one with brown eyes in the group. "You were right about Ernie. I shouldn't have put my trust in him," she said before raising her bow and playing a quick random riff to puntuate her irritation.
Angel's eyes widened at "Ernie" being mentionned. Oh no... what had she done?
"Lily... what... happened?"
Lily blew her breath out and frowned. She didn't really wanna recount the whole story and decided to just give a short summarized version of it. "He asked about the people that died in D.C. He asked if you killed them. I told him no. He figured out it was me and then he had this..." she paused and then exaggerrated the next description. "...big angry meltdown about me not being honest with him." the small teenager shook her head and sighed again. "Oh, and he said he didn't trust me then, he doesn't trust me now." She paused again and stared at the bow in her hand as though it was suddenly offending her. 'Wow," she finished sarcastically.
Fucking bastard. He did it again
Angel grew the angrier about the Aberration that deceived both of the girls in this room. Truly a despicable guy. Why were people drawn to such a person? Was it because his web of lies made it so easy to manipulate everyone in liking him? Really, what an asshole. Then again, Angélique was a lying bitch too, but it pained her to do so, and she did it mostly to protect the others. At least that's what she was believing.
"I'm sorry it happened, Lilianna. That's... why I didn't want you to tell him. Perhaps it was for the best that you came out honest, but still..." she worked so hard to keep that façade of a murdere in front of Brent and Ernest so that they won't go around and harass everyone about what happened. It felt so hollow now, to see it ended up being only the more painful to everyone in the end.
"He... didn't do anything to you, right?
"No, he didn't," Lily answered with another shake of her head. "I can do a lot more damage to him than he can do to me, you know," she punctuated the statement with a sarcastic chuckle. She began soflty playing the violin again, matching its tune to the melody Angel was playing on the guitar. The creases on her forehead smoothened down. "He was nice to me though so I probably won't stay angry at him for long. I'll probably stay away from him though," she watched Angel's fingers and changed tempo in time with her.
"You're soft, Lily..." Angélique commented as she heard her resolve about not completely hating Ernest after what he told her.
"I don't know how you do it... but I suppose we need more people like you, thinking that way."
Perhaps this world would be a better place if people stopped being so vindicative towards each other. Maybe they wouldn't be stuck living like hated prisonners destined for the death penalty if this circle of hatred would be broken.
Hearing the blonde Aberration's will, Angel unconsciously began to change tempo, playing something that was a little more upbeat, more hopeful.
Lily grinned when she heard Angel crank up her tempo and wondered what it would be to play with her own brother. She made a mental note to ask the higher ups about it. "No use in holding grudges on people you're gonna be spending a lot of time with, right? And who knows? Maybe I can even change his opinion of me in time...no matter how bad he probably thinks I am now," she shrugged. The small movement of her shoulders made her go off tune for a bit, making her giggle at her mistake. "If he doesn't then oh well. It's not as if I don't have other friends. I'd be perfectly happy having you and Sophia to hang out with."
The Voice Mage only smiled as Lily joined her in on the music, feeling nostalgic to be playing with someone else again. Brought her back to the days when she was had a band, not so long ago. Who knew a guitar and a violen could accompagny each other so well? Maybe it was the magic only two musical souls in perfect synchronisation could come up with.
"That's... a very optimisitc way of seeing things for what they are. I can respect that." it however felt a bit beyond Angélique for the moment, to actually forgive Ernest for what he said to her, for the punch and the kick he tried to inflict on her. The subject of Sophia was, however, something that got Angel very intrigued.
"I've tried speaking with Sophia, but I'm not sure if I'm intimidating her, scaring her or if she just doesn't like me. She seems like a nice girl, if you try getting under her layer of sarcasm and stubborness, but she doesn't seem to want to talk to me all that much. I... just hope I haven't offended her back in Washington when I tried to push her into using her powers, or when I discussed with her last week. I think I was actually creeping her out by revealing how I felt about her."
It was beautiful how two different sounds blended together in harmony. Lily closed her eyes and swayed slightly to the music but at the same time still listened to what her friend was saying. "Oh, I think she just have some trouble expressing herself. I think she's the sort of person that would appreciate just hanging out without really talking. That's what I see, at least. I don't know her all that much yet but it's nice hanging out with her. It's... relaxing. Kinda like hanging out with you."
"I see..." Angélique pondered, feeling that explication coincided well with how Sophia had been around her for the few times they spoke. Except that first time she was being a bit too mouthy. Sort of like Angélique herself, to be honest.
The fallen idol smiled warmly at the violonist's comment "I like hanging out with you too. You are actually the only person, beside Hazel, who would play music with me." Angélique chuckled slightly at the mention of the clueless and yet so feared Aberration, who had a natural talent for music but needed guidance, else the sounds produced by the mysterious young woman seemed as if hell had befallen on earth.
"You know if Sophia loves music? Maybe we could have her hang out with us, or even have her play with us? Who knows, she might open up more if she got used to being with more people? I don't see her talking often to the others, but even then, I'm not around enough all day to see what everyone are up to."
"Oh, Hazel plays music too? I've always been curious about her... but never got to talk to her yet... I should try to. It'll be nice to have more friends." Lily bobbed her head slightly at the thought. "And that's a good suggestion. Maybe I should try bringing her here! I wonder if she plays any instrument?"
"Well, she is still learning, but she seems to be deeply interested in playing, and I noticed she seems to have a natural talent for it too. Maybe we could get a quatuor going if we get that many people involved." Angélique suggested with a sheming grin.
"But yeah... Hazel is one of those who easily lose control in battle. She's quite odd outside of the battlefield though, and I think she's a genuinely good person. It's just... she is an entirely different person when she fights." the guitarist looked toughtful as she spoke, reminiscing of the past events. "I just wish I could find a way to safely stop her when she goes berserk, before anything tragic happens. To her, or to us."
"That'sa good idea. Sometime soon maybe," Lily ended the riff they were playing with an upbeat allegretto and a giggle. Playing music does lift her spirits a lot. "Hazel is an interesting person. I haven't tried talking to her yet. I wonder if she'd like me," she wondered out aloud in response to Angel's comment about the destructive mage.
Angel paused, thinking what else they could play as she heard Lily's musings. "She... is complex, but simple at the same time? I don't know if that makes sense, but I get the feeling that she's the kind of girl to like you if you show her even just a bit of kindness."
Lily nodded, making another mental note to at least say hello to the girl they were talking about. Might do her good to have more friends within the group too. "I'll make sure to say hi," she said. "It'd be nice if we can become friends. I think I'd like that."
"Yeah... it would be nice if everyone would be friends..." there was a small hint of melancholy on Angélique's face as she spoke, finding an upbeat rhythm akin to what could be played for country music. "Well, if you want a makesure way to befriend her, just invite her to listen to you playing. She likes that. Maybe even teach her how to play? I tried showing her how to play the violin, since she was trying to, but I only ever know how to position myself and play a few notes."
"Everyone being friends..." Lily echoed, her thoughts going back to Ernie and how he said that he hated Angel. He probably hated her now too. Now that the music has melted the frustration aways, she couldn't decide whether to be sad or angry about it. Sophia said it wasn't her fault. Angel said it was okay. Ernie said he didn't trust her. "I'll try to teach her to play then... if I can even teach what I don't really remember..." she said a little distractedly.
"I wouldn't worry about that. You're a natural, even without your memories. I'm sure it will come to you without even thinking about it." Angélique reassure her blonde fellow Aberration with a smile.
Angel's reassurance appeared unheard as Lily focused on something she had wanted to ask about. It probably won't be a topic Angel would be happy to talk about but she wanted to ask anyway. And what she wanted to know about, she asked straightforwardly. "Why does Ernie hate you?"
The raven-haired musician made a wrong note that clearly shown on the masterfully crafted jam that she was playing. This question... should she be answering it without reserves? She didn't want to sound so spiteful in front of her fellow musician. She didn't deserve to be caught in her war with Ernest, even if she had already been involved the moment she stood as a shared friend of both Angel and Ernest's.
"There's... plenty of reasons." Angélique decided to answer vaguely, the rhythm of her guitar steadily dropping to something quieter.
"He must have been really...unpleasant to you," Lily said slowly, her eyes studying her friend's fingers as they moved across the strings of the guitar. A question that wasn't willingly answered should just be left alone. She lifted her bow again and began playing an accomplaniment tune.
Angel only nodded in reply. His punch aimed at her jaw; that kick to her leg; all these insults being thrown. She probably deserved a lot of them, but it still hurt nonetheless.. Her hands continued working their magic on the stringed instrument, providing more melody for the both of them to play solemnly.
However, that sad turn in their conversation emancipated no song to be sung from the former Aberration singer.
Sophia was out of practice. Though she had been trying to practice once in a while, with everything that had happened since becoming a subnatural she hadn't really felt like it. Now, however, she had returned to the piano with hopes that it would help her relax and keep her from thinking too much.
Without notes to look at, Sophia's playing was riddled with mistakes as she stumbled through different pieces, slowly recalling what she had learned. She tried to think just of the music, nothing else. Not of the conversations she had had the past weekend. Not of Wisford, not of D.C. Not of her newly found advances to her power. Not of death, and blood, and death.
Slowly, she did manage to relax, focusing on which note came next, recalling each movement from the back of her mind. After feeling sufficiently warmed up, she at last switched to a piece that she had finished learning just that August. Though she stumbled a few times, Sophia kept playing, swaying slightly on the bench as she kept her gaze fixed on the keys.
The white haired arbiter Chris entered the music room with the intentions of distraction through music. He had expected to play in privacy but to his dismay another fellow mage had already started on the grand instrument. He hadn't talked to her before, but that didn't dismay him.
"A bit sloppy there." Chris commented with his usual scowl as he observed the fingers that had been playing away on the ivory keys with their occassional stumble. "I suppose thats why you're practicing then." He had muttered to himself before standing away to the side, more so to wait his turn then to continue a conversation.
The last thing Sophia had been expecting was for someone to march in unannounced while she was playing and make some comment. The girl jolted on the bench, head snapping towards the door to see... uh, was it Chris? She hadn't talked to him, but names tended to get thrown around enough for a bystander to pick them up. The dragon, right? A flush rose quickly to her cheeks when she processed what he had said, turning a bit to face him. "Obviously." Stupid remark.
It's the first time you've spoken to him, and that's what you say? That's the first word you say to him? Her self consciousness came flooding in now that the shock had worn off, along with the dread. Another person. She had been seeing too many people. And he wasn't leaving. Which wasn't good. What had happened to being alone? But she needed to be polite. Couldn't leave a bad impression. "I'm sorry," she began quietly, cringing internally as the words left her mouth. She hated apologies, even if right now it wasn't a real apology. "You're waiting for the piano?" Impressive. That was how many words?
"Don't worry about it." He shook his head. "I'll take over whenever you feel like your ready to stop." He didn't show much malice but he certainly had to struggle a bit with being polite.
Right... so he was just going to stand there waiting until she was done? That was... uh, she didn't like it. Her jaw clenched slightly, a barely noticable action. There was no way that Sophia was going to be able to practice anything with him standing around there. She could ask him to leave, but that was rude, wasn't it? And this was a public space, after all. "Al--alright."
Sophia turned back to the piano, too aware of his precense to focus properly. Judging every note she was going to play. Still, she began the first few measures of the song again, but stopped just as the faster part was beginning. She couldn't play with him there. Facing Chris again, she frowned, hands gripping the bench. Nervous. "I..." What had she wanted to say? "How long... would you..."
He rolled his eyes. "Well if you are going to be a while I'll just go do something else." Standoffish as usual, the arbiter lowered his crossed arms into his pockets. Though he had really been in the mood to play the piano, with someone else occupying it there wasn't much else he could do. He wasn't going to force her off it.
Wait wait wait. No, she did want to be alone. She did. It was... nice of him to offer to go do something else. She should let him go. But one more sentence, because she couldn't mess up yet another encounter. Even if it was just a small little thing. Couldn't let yet another person walk away without any input from her. "Wait but... you are Chris, right?" The words were drawn out longer than they needed to be, as if she wasn't sure how to form each syllable.
A pause. He really wasn't in the mood for socializing, but the last thing he needed was to make enemies. "Yeah...and you are?" His hands retreated from his pockets to allow his arms to return into a cross. He wasn't sure if she was shy or just wasn't familiar with the language, but regardless he tried to keep his patience.
Of course he didn't know her name, did he? Hah. As if. She should have included her name with her last remark. But at least he had asked. That was a good thing, right? "Sophia." It was so awkward, him standing there with arms crossed and straight face, as if silently evaluating her every move. Swallowing hard, her fingers tightened even more as she forced out the next words with an equally forced grin. "You probably haven't-- haven't seen me around much, huh?" Brilliant remark. Point out how antisocial she was. Calm down.
"I don't exactly get around much, i guess." Chris stated as he slowly loosened up his posture. "I only know a handful of my classmates anyway....But I guess its a pleasure knowing another one." Having decided to make himself comfortable, Chris took a chair to sit on, but made sure to keep some distance.
Same here. Still, she guessed he went out and about more than she did. His next remark caused her eyebrows to shoot upwards, unable to disguise her surprise. Suddenly, she felt like laughing. Don't laugh don't laugh. She didn't laugh, but... her grin grew a bit wider and she turned her face away for a moment before she could drag it down. Perhaps it wasn't really that funny, but seriously? A pleasure? Knowing her? Knowing another person? Time to return the phrase.
"Glad we finally get to aquaint ourselves properly." A slight, flat smile to replace the grin that had been there earlier. Was it just her, or had that sentence sounded strange? Time to say something else. Because he now looked like he was planning to spend some time to talk, meaning that she had to say something. Something, something, what? "Uh..."
He shrugged. "Is this your first time playing or have you had some experience in the past?" He proceeded to make some small talk. While not his biggest hobby talking to a stranger wasn't the worse thing to waste his time with.
If she could more or less play that song correctly, she obviously had been playing for some time. But at least now Chris was helping to add to the conversation, so she didn't let herself be annoyed. How long had she been playing? Mind flew back to think about all those years past, settling on a number. "I've actually been playing for... five-- five years, I think?" A pause. "You?"
He nodded once to acknowledge her experience. "I started when I was little but I never got much chance to play until recently." He said, avoiding as much details as he could. "You're not bad at it, but I noticed there were some mistakes in your playing...." A pause. "A word of advice, when I stumble over what keys to press I found that stressing over perfection made me play worse then letting myself flow with the music." He was terrible at giving advice, much less helping others. Still he tried to give his best support he could.
Chris's answer wasn't very clear, but Sophia nodded as well anyway. Did that mean he was less advanced, or more? Depending on how much effort he had put in... she now wanted to hear him play. Especially since his criticism still had her feeling somewhat defensive. He's trying to be nice. He's trying to give advice. What Chris was saying was sort of true, but it was hard to let yourself 'flow' when you could barely remember all the notes. "Yeah. It's just... a newer piece? So..." So you don't have to defend yourself. "What do you like to play?" Sophia shifted on the bench, looking like she wanted to get up but not quite sure if she should. Show me.
Was that challenge, or did she want to see someone with possibly better talents play? He wasn't sure, but he took her offer after some hesitation. The best song he knew how to play was piano man, the same music he played in the hotel. WIth no better ideas Chris began to play the melody, the somber tone of the notes synced with his growing meloncholy expression. Like spreading butter over bread Chris recited every note in perfect rythmn and sync as he had done times before.
Sophia listened closely to Chris play, standing with a slight frown on her face. His playing wasn't bad, he was pretty good at playing the piece. Less mistakes than I made, huh? But... perhaps the song he played wasn't as complicated. She didn't think it was. When he was done, she stood silent for a moment before speaking. "Nice." So that was the kind of music he liked, she assumed. It was quite different from what she had been trying to play, wasn't it? "Thanks for... agreeing to play."
He nodded once. "Right well I won't hog the seat, you may continue." He excused himself from the piano and returned to his chair, though he didn't bother to sit this time. "Take that practice to heart and you'll be better at it soon enough." He ensured as he made his exit. "Thanks for the chat."
"Mhmm. You too." For once Sophia responded quickly, before Chris could get out of hearing. He left so suddenly she was surprised. Had she said something wrong? But he didn't seem upset, not that she could tell, so he was just being... she didn't know. Giving her space, like she had wanted. Like she had wanted. Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. At least that hadn't been too bad, though the way he phrased his comments wasn't her favorite.
Shaking her head slightly, she got back on the bench and began to practice some more.
She hadn't slept. It wasn't a new scenario, but the girl was acutely aware of the fact without the comfort of her phone at her side. She'd taken little comfort in the presence of hired help, and even less in the fact that she was in an estate that reminded her more of charity events and stiff dresses than it did of gruff words and gentle reminders. By sunrise, she'd wondered how long she could keep herself holed up in her room, by morning, she had ascertained that it was probably a bad idea. Noon had come and gone, and she told herself that she would have to work up the nerve to leave the safety of isolation. Eventually, she told herself, she would have to leave, especially if she wanted to avoid using the maids.
They're all subnaturals.
It was a thought that had been stirring like white noise. Why would Zhang hire subnaturals? Because they were easy to access? Curiosity burned faintly, a drive that made her want to know, but memories went back to the first night. Of gunfire, and how easy she had made it seem. How easy it was for her to send subnaturals into battle. How easy it was for her to rid the world of any trace of the ones that hadn't survived. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to pry, especially if the cuffs were able to subdue them with the push of a button.
'Focus, Siena. You want to find the study. Or a library or something.' For a source, first off and foremost, and for information...or, that was her intention. She had thought, perhaps, that she could figure out the estate with hazy memories of walking through the halls the night before, but she remembered only the vaguest details of the layout, and the uniform appearance of the building, though charming, had done nothing to help the girl's recollection. Instead, she walked past what she assumed to be the same hallway for what must have been the fifth time, and gave a soft groan. Maybe she should have asked a maid for help, regardless of the discomfort.
"Well, at least I know how to get here..." Siena muttered softly to herself. At least she hadn't run into anyone yet...which might have been a bad thing at that point. "Wherever this is."
Turns out that tracking people down was pretty easy once you got over the fact that it was hella stalker-ish. With the cuffs' tracking capabilities and the phone from Washington that had helped out so well with keeping track of where everyone else was, finding Siena had generally been a breeze...even if it looked as if she was just continuously lapping the interior of the estate for some indiscernable reason. Sun too bright and there was no sunscreen available? Didn't know where the gym was, but still wanted light exercise? Pacing around because she was deep in thought?
Regardless the reason, Brent walked up two flights of stairs to find the newly christened Slyph continuing her laps around the third floor, a small smile on his face. How would he approach this? With a battering ram? Or a lockpick?
"Heyo, 'ena," he said, a few feet behind her, "Getting in some post-lunch speedwalking?"
Even without the added benefit--a mental, wry smile formed at the idea--of sleep deprived paranoia, Siena would have jumped at the sound of a familiar voice from too close. The mage felt her heart race, her body jerk, felt herself spin on her heel to face Brent while being pulled from her initial thoughts of how utterly hopeless her endeavor to find a damn library was. First, there was a sense of relief, a brief thought that maybe Brent could show her how to get to the study, or anywhere with additional sources, then a faint feeling of panic at being caught without a source on hand. Without a name to hide behind if things went south. Following that, a volatile mixture of emotions that she struggled to identify.
guiltblameregrethurtbreakcry
"O-Oh, um..." She caught herself, reached to twist her hair between her fingers to try and put her mind on the present. "I uh...may be lost." The sheepish admission was accompanied by a faint grimace as she processed the inquiry in its entirety. Lunch. Right. She hadn't actually eaten since...she couldn't remember. A day ago? Two? She should have been hungry. It occurred to her that she'd been so focused on one goal that she hadn't even acknowledged trying to map out the rest of the estate in her head. Another mistake on her end. "I think pr--post-lunch speedwalking sounds less embarrassing though."
Instinct told him to take a step back as Siena whipped around, movements much too erratic and nervous to simply be someone 'turning around to face a friend'. There was a thinness to her gray eyes, the smallest of bags hanging underneath then. Almost looked like a mirror. In terms of exhaustion, at least. But it was understandable. He didn't get much sleep last night either, and if sleep meant dreams, it was her choice if she wanted to plunge into that fun little realm of storing short-term memories into long-term databanks.
So he ignored that instinct and took a step forward instead.
"Eh? Figured you'd be right at home navigating such a large mansion," Brent remarked, pocketing the evidence of his stalking, "But hey, whatcha looking for? Library? Art gallery? Music room?"
Lockpick for now. He still remembered how quickly things fell out of hand with Angelic.
Siena was aware she shouldn't have been on edge. Knew it wasn't Brent that had managed to strip her defenses and leave her terrified, but she still felt an almost overwhelming urge to step back to match his step forward. Instead, she allowed herself to shift her weight, slip a fraction of a centimeter in the desired direction as though it would be enough. She twisted the hair until she felt a few strands spring apart with an inaudible snap, felt a distant echo of both longing and discomfort at Brent's words. He wasn't wrong.
"I keep thinking it has the same layout as home, I...I guess." Which wasn't entirely true, but less revealing than explaining that she'd walked around blindly the night before and hadn't thought of anything but get away, and she was walking now with no more direction than get safety. Another hair snapped, came loose in her grip. "But the library. I um..." Don't like being here without a source. Don't want to deal with anyone else yet. Don't feel safe unless I can be someone else. "Thought it would be good to leave my room for a little."
It was only a distance of a few feet, but it was also an...improper one. They had been walking closer before. Talking closer before. But now, there was a rigidity in her stance, a propensity towards twisting her hair. Flirting? Unlikely. Nervous then. Did she read his mind? Know that he was here to talk about what had happened in DC? What she had done with the cars?
Does he drop the battering ram here?
"Gonna pull out all your hair like that," the arbiter chided, "But it's good that you're going out. Can't be a bedbug like Grant, after all." He laughed a little at that, before walking forwards once more, taking care to give her distance even as he stood right beside her. "Figured it'd be the library though. Checked it out myself last night, but it doesn't look like they have a YA section. Lotsa nature books though, if you're into that."
"A-ah..." As though simply mentioning the motion was enough to set her hair alight, Siena wrenched her fingers away from her hair. Bad habits died hard--or was that old habits? For an instant, the mage didn't know what caused that reaction. She didn't...care, did she? No...no time to linger. The girl pushed the thoughts aside for later. Nature wasn't exactly her forte, wasn't filled with any names that she could take, but having something in her hands was better than nothing. "Sort of. I used to read a lot of them."
Not a lie. She did. Not after she'd gained her abilities, but...
"Explore places you can't be at and such."
"Eh? Didn't go abroad during summer vacation and all?"
Siena paused at the inquiry, had to process what summer vacation was supposed to be. Some distant memory came to life, and Siena shook her head. Right, school terms. She'd have to get familiar with them again.
"No, but I made do with travel guides."
"Must be the type to read strategy guides instead of play video games, huh?" Brent remarked, smiling. Sheltered then, to the extent that it didn't even sound like she did rich people stuff. "Were you homeschooled?"
Wait, what?
"Um...home everything, I guess." Siena murmured with an uncomfortable tint, a small motion of her hand to accentuate the next two words. "Protective--" It was hard to place the correct descriptor. "--parents."
He hadn't expected her to actually answer, considering how he hadn't even expected himself to ask such a question. Blinking twice, Brent nodded slowly. "No wonder you didn't know about fast food," he said, shifting things to a lighter topic, "Bet you'd be queen bee in a public high school."
"I think I would prefer being the quiet bookworm." Though she doubted that would have been acceptable for Maya. Still, Siena was grateful to be away from trying to separate one home from another. "I guess I'm kind of predictable...?"
"Princess of the Library Club then?" the arbiter teased, as he turned the corner. "And really, after all the twists and turns of our current lives, predictability is pretty pleasant."
Compared to the madness of their everyday lives, compared to the bipolarity of Angelic's resolve, the fact that Siena liked books alot was turning out to be a pleasant anchor, all things considered. With a few more steps, the duo arrived at the library, Brent opening the door and bowing flamboyantly to let Siena in.
"Your throne awaits, Your Highness."
Was...was that a real thing? A flicker of curiosity that Siena snuffed out as best she could. Not the time. Instead, she tried, and failed, to give a half-embarrassed smile, shrinking a little at the display. Still too hard to put on the right masks, harder still with someone that had seen anything real.
"Th-thanks." She tried again, succeeded this time to make the smile stick. Stepping into what should have been a sanctuary, the girl turned to face her companion. "Does this make you a library knight, then?"
"Naw, just the servant," he chimed, closing the door behind him, "Someone's gotta do all the background work and all. Books don't dust themselves, after all."
"Can't a princess promote you or something?" Siena questioned while glancing around the library. "Besides, a little dust gives them that nice old page smell."
"True, but the king would have my head if his daughter were to get the sniffles from the dust," Brent replied. "And wouldn't it be terrible, if a loyal servant, promoted to knighthood, were to find himself in the front lines of a massive battle?"
Something about that hit closer to home than she wanted it to. Didn't that sound a little too familiar? Everything faltered a moment, fell out of line for an instant. Too close to home.
"Well, I don't see a king around here," Siena claimed. "But you have a point. I guess a servant gets all the benefits of royalty too--just with more chores and less...politics." She accented the final word with a mock grimace, as though the word itself was a bitter medicine.
"Mhmm, but without a king here, we don't have to think about politics either, eh? Sounds like you get all the benefits of royalty without the chores, 'ena!" Brent paused then, mid-drama, before breaking out into a grin. "Seriously though, we gonna continue with this royal court ro- drama, or are you gonna go find enough books to make a fortress?" Returning Brent's smile with one of her own, Siena gave a soft laugh. "I think I'll start with a small fortress." For a moment, Siena almost let herself feel safe, but she quieted that emotion just like she quieted the others. Still, she softened her expression, eased her smile into something less staged. Thanks.
Ah, there it was. All the recompense he really needed in return for support.
"Tell me if you need help finding stuff, yeah? Basically camped out here myself last night." A stack of books in arm was a wonderful feeling. It was true that for most cases, Siena preferred to have a digital version of her sources, but there was something about the smell of aged paper and the feel of the spine of a finely bound book that e-ink words couldn't compare to. It had taken longer than expected for Siena to manage to get the gist of the organization, but with Brent's help, she hadn't spent too long standing confused about the general areas of genres or authors. She'd even managed to locate, much to her surprise, a handful of foreign books that she hadn't expected to see. Setting the last of her finds onto a desk, Siena gave a grateful look to Brent.
"Thanks again for all the help." Already, there was a little more safety despite the texts lacking her usual securities. It took a moment for the girl to realize that when she said 'a small fortress', it might have been literal. Far more than she'd actually meant to take an interest in. "I said I'd control myself, but it doesn't look like I did a very good job, does it?"
Well, he knew that Siena was a reader, but watching her list off genre after genre after author after title, the sheer range and depth of the literature she consumed made Brent's own reading list look like a elementary school assignment. Foreign books? Enough subjects to make one a goddamn paragon? The arbiter whistled at the collection that she had amassed, enough to fill up a small shelf all by itself.
"No probs," he said, tilting his head to check out some of the titles that had been amassed, "Didn't realize you read this many though. Like, damn, ancient Sumerian? Pretty amazing stuff."
"I got a little excited..." Siena admitted while looking down at the top of the stack she'd just set down. More security, more safety. More knowledge that she'd never set her hands on before. There were a lot of reasons that books were the easiest thing to find sanctuary in, but Siena didn't like putting that into words. Instead, she gave a sheepish smile. "Well, I um...I remember reading that there were ancient Sumerian epics about Gilgamesh and Lugalbanda. I didn't think I'd find someone that had them though. I'm...a bit curious about the first written language too."
Well, curious about the language, curious if her ability would be able to make heads or tails of the script. She'd tried with a number of languages, but finding one made entirely of cuneiform script wasn't exactly easy.
"Heh, interested in channeling the king of kings?" he probed, taking a seat. "Well, tell me if it's a good read or if I should just read the wiki-summary once you're done, yeah? Think you can carry this back yourself?"
"Bit of a jump from library court to king of kings, isn't it?" She resisted the urge to tug at her hair as she spoke. "He's not even a very good hero." A pause. "Actually, he's kind of a jerk." Which was true. Most oh-so-memorable heroes of mythology were far from infallible, and though it might have been a little discouraging, Siena couldn't help but feel a muted sense of relief at the thought. Even heroes made mistakes.
That doesn't mean you get to forgive yourself.
"But I'll let you know if he's less of one in ancient Sumerian." Doubtful. Stories tended to exaggerate good and bad traits each time they were rewritten, and...well, he was still the king of kings, wasn't he? "I think I'll stay and read a few of these before I try and get back to my room." Too much chance of running into anyone else if she walked back, too much chance that someone might try to drop in on her, and far too much chance of having to face anyone she wasn't ready to face. "I don't think too many of our peers will need to take over the library anytime soon."
"Alright," Brent waved, "Dont get-"
He was shirking, wasn't he? Just letting himself get drawn into an easy, nonsensical conversation and grabbing a few laughs. Not bothering to pull the trigger, to address the elephant, to do what he had planned to do. Oh boy, what happened to that insensitive, hyper-focused individual he had been just a few weeks ago, the one that pushed Emma six floors underground into hell?
"-lost on your way back."
Partially opening the door, he closed it once more, an audible click ringing through the silent library.
"Right, before I forget..."
Where was he again, the one that was willing to burn bridges and sever bonds, for a moment's illumination?
"...what happened with the cars, Siena?"
There you are.
He knows?
Of course anyone would have known. To think otherwise would have been stupid, and Siena knew it. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her eyes shifting away from Brent, the damn hissing getting louder in her head. Monsters born from monstrous acts.
"I--" The word came out wrong. Like someone had wrapped their fingers around her throat and squeezed when she tried to speak. Broken, garbled, and only a single word in. She shut her mouth, took a breath to regain herself. Sources all around her, but none of her usual securities. No name she could hide behind.
She could lie. She could become exactly what she saw herself as. Could make it easier for her to betray and harder to be the one betrayed, but she didn't know if that act could be bought. If having two sides that did meet was more believable than explaining that she had countless sides that did not. The subnatural wanted, more than anything, for that cool, rational method of thinking to blanket her again, but it didn't come. Couldn't come when she was still trying her hardest to pick apart Dekka and Siena. Which parts belonged and which parts deserved to be put aside.
"I wasn't supposed to drop them. I didn't...I didn't mean to." She heard her voice before she could register that she was speaking, and Siena felt fear rile up, tried to break through and burst. There were no sources. She was supposed to be in control, so why was she speaking before she could filter out the thoughts? Before she could make a decision on what she was supposed to do? Was it Siena? Or maybe it was Dekka. Or perhaps it was someone whose name she'd taken, sealed up for so long that she had forgotten to close them away while trying to wrestle with the new onslaught...but it was too late to step back. Too late. "It doesn't change that I did."
beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone
"You don't have to believe me." Because she wouldn't have believed anyone in her position, not when so many subnaturals were monsters that looked human. Siena didn't raise her eyes, couldn't raise them to look at Brent. "We were supposed to help them." And she'd made to many mistakes to count.
That was enough. A mistake then. One mistake that collided with another mistake and produced a tragedy no one wanted. Was evacuation team trying to help them? Or was that just Siena who wanted to? Or did 'suppose' have a different meaning, one that implied the difference between duty and desire? He was unfair. He was picking at scabs that had only just formed, cracking open eggs that were still a jumbled mess. It was enough to know that this was a mistake.
But it wasn't enough for Brent.
It would have been too easy to leave, to keep quiet, to accept this without returning anything. Emma. Callan. Marcus. Angelic. So many divides. He had to stop losing, to bridge the gap before it became that same uncomfortable divide formed between so many others. He hardly talked to Emma now, even though he praised and mocked her behind her back. Callan avoided him, consigning herself to voluntary solitary confinement. And the words that remained unspoken between Marcus and himself was a blight upon their brotherhood.
So he pushed himself a bit. One step. Another. A third. Until he could seat himself opposite of Siena, giving her the distance of a table's width.
"It's..." No, that was wrong. "You're going to have to carry that burden."
There you aren't.
"I'm not in a place to offer forgiveness," he said, eyes locked onto her downturned gaze, "And I can't share your burden either. But..."
This isn't a time for smiles.
"Why were they raised, Siena?"
This was a time for answers.
"What were you trying to do?"
Don't...don't what? Siena tried to piece together her thoughts. Don't look in the eye? Don't touch? Don't get closer? What exactly was that thought supposed to finish into? She shifted her eyes briefly, an instinctive need hide the color. We can't hide what color they become. But she didn't retreat further than that, didn't think that anything she did would change that these were questions she would have had to answer. If not Brent, then Zhang--no, she was too far up the ladder. Some other face that was there to punish, to break someone down until answers could be extracted.
"Clearing the road. They were all abandoned by the time we got there. Even if we weren't driving a truck, we--" No, maybe not all of them. "I would have tried to clear the block anyways. Nobody could continue down that path to the evacuation point in that condition." And nobody would have been able to come in if Unit B had failed and it turned out that the military would have needed that wide, empty road. She kept that to herself. "I thought it would be faster to reduce gravity and push them. Less time per car we moved."
But then people had panicked. An obvious display of powers in a place where she had already known that subnaturals weren't welcome. Even if Cat's Cradle hadn't appeared, shouldn't she have expected the reaction?
"And...reducing gravity instead of negating it meant I could keep them from going out of sight while we moved everything out of the way. In...in case they weren't all abandoned."
Crisp, clean answers, even if marred by some hesitation, flowed out easily. Why was it so easy to see this as the truth? Because Siena was an honest individual? Unlikely. The two of them were similar in a way. Because there was no reason to lie about this? Doubtful. One could always lie, even without reason. Because he came into this already wanting to trust her? Typical. Confirmation bias.
He remained quiet as she spoke. It was easy enough to imagine what happened when things went out of hand. Perhaps her concentration was broken when the bricks fell. Perhaps it was Angelic's scream that did the trick instead. Grant was strong, but catching all those cars wouldn't have been easy. And no one else could have helped.
"I see," Brent said, at the end.
He envisioned himself leaving. Walking away now. Giving her some breathing space. Avoiding any deeper involvement. But his hand extended over the table instead. Reaching the halfway point. There was still that particular bond though. That codependency, formed between two people who couldn't help themselves.
"I believe you." Not accept. Not tolerate. Believe. "What would you like me to do?"
What did she want to do?
I don't know how to fix this. That was the first thought that came in response to the question. A quick and neat little thought that didn't do justice to what had come to life in response to the question. There were countless things that she could have said, words that could fill the space, do something so she could at least pretend that she knew how to keep herself together.
"I...I don't know." It was barely a whisper, and it was the truth. She didn't know, and there was no one around to help guide her through. No Gerwulf with his callused hands to direct her own, no Maya to whisper tips and tricks into her ears, only Siena, who only knew how to do what others told her she had to do. She took a moment to think, kept thinking, kept trying to come up with an answer, and when she couldn't, felt an overwhelming sense of being lost...and she couldn't stop it from showing. "And I hate not knowing."
The shadow of another's influence still lingered, didn't it? Living your life for someone else, until you couldn't be certain what you wanted. Some people embraced it. Others tolerated it. But when that crutch was removed...
He could understand that loss, that crumbling sensation as you looked inside and realized that you just had a ridiculously thick exterior. He could understand it, but he couldn't do anything about it. Didn't know a way to lead her elsewhere. After all, he was the sort of parasite that clung to anything in order to give meaning to himself. How on earth could he...
This far in, and he planned to fold?
...he'll figure out a way.
"Yeah, I can see that," Brent said, softly, "I don't know what you've been through, and you don't have to share that if you don't want to, but...hey. I'll be here. If you find something, I'll help you get a hold of it. Doesn't have to be big, doesn't have to be world-changing. Can't share your burden, cause I'm a pretty terrible mule, but when you find a path, I'll give you all the support you need."
Gah, this was coming out all wrong. How absolutely rancid.
"Take your time. I can wait."
A cautious, half-hearted smile formed at the words--it was...nice not to have someone immediately default to telling her what to do. A strange relief mingled with anxiety at the thought of not knowing what to do. At the fact that there was no end goal laid out for her, and no names lingering in the back of her head, in the depths of her heart, to try and whisper what she should do. A long pause as she went over everything in her head. What she wanted to do, instinctively, was fix something. To do something to help someone else, but that was just distracting her from the problem, wasn't it? Another long moment of thought.
"I don't know exactly what I want to do," she started. Her eyes trailed from her books, to the hand on the table, and slowly, settled on Brent. Didn't keep eye contact--still no good at it--but let their gaze meet for a moment before she directed her attention slightly down. "But for right now, I...I just want to be honest with someone." Another pause as she ran through the events of what had happened during the slaughter. She hadn't seen everything, but there were things she'd heard. "Or at least, I'd like for someone to be honest with me."
Honesty? Hah. He came here just to come that, in a way. Though whether this result was to be expected? No, he definitely didn't expect it. A smile creeped up on his face, genuine and reflexive, as Siena raised her own. Baby steps, but she was making progress.
"Wanna try it?" Brent asked. "Just for a question or two?"
Just a question or two. That didn't sound too difficult, but a quiet voice in the back of Siena's head told her that not hiding anything wouldn't be easy. Not if the right questions were asked, and not...not when it was anyone that she knew didn't have a real baseline. Still...this was what s he wanted, right? Because if she was honest to one person, maybe eventually, she'd stop having to use names to lie to everyone, to herself. A flicker of hesitation flashed across her face, but...
"A-alright..." Though apprehension fluttered just beneath the surface. "I think I can do that..."
"'kay."
This was a good chance. He could ask for all the spicy details of evacuation team's massive failures. Good chance to ask about her past, get an idea of what made her the way she is. Good chance to get specifics about her power. Good chance to even ask about nonsensical stuff, like what her favorite food was. Even ask about what she thought about literally anyone else. But that wasn't what he asked without hesitation.
"What do you think about me? All your thoughts. Good, bad, ugly."
Who would have known that all he wanted was to get roasted?
Out of the countless questions that couls have been asked, that...was not exactly what Siena had been expecting. She blinked once in surprise, a quick flutter of the eyelids as though uncertain that she'd heard correctly. Most people didn't want to hear every thought about a them, Siena had never actually given every thought she'd ever had to someone. Ever.
Straight into the fire, was it?
"Oh, um..." The brunette took a moment to gather her thoughts. Every one? No, that was probably just a quicker way to say the important ones. To give every single thought would have taken too long--she was aware that there were too many thoughts. Too many stray emotions to entirely filter out the thoughts that came to mind. "Starting with an essay question, huh?"
"Feel free to toss that question back at me when it's my turn," Brent replied, a smile surfacing, "You wanted honesty the other way around too, yeah?"
"Fair enough." She supposed, at least. With a breath, Siena tried to form a response that didn't hide the things she observed to take an advantage, the things she thought to herself because that was the only way she really knew how to deal with people. Just talk. Pretend he's August.
"You...remind me of home a little." Siena stopped, frowned faintly, and corrected herself. "S-sorry. More than a little, I guess." Right, that was step one, at least. "Like...you watch people, and you notice things about them that most others wouldn't, and it's...a little intimidating for me." Because she didn't like having things noticed about her, but that wasn't about him, right? "But you strike me as someone that doesn't...hm...I suppose hold back is a good way to phrase it? Not in the 'no filter' way, the other way." Someone that did things, and didn't hesitate to put their all into something because failing was hard.
Another pause. That was familiar.
"...actually, more than home, you remind me of someone that...um..." She paused, uncertain which way things were in that particular case. "...someone that I knew." Not a lie--at least, not as much of one when compared to how uncertain she was in what she originally wanted to say. "And that makes me a little wary of you. He wasn't a bad person, but he wasn't afraid to cross lines that I wished he wouldn't."
"Above and beyond," Brent recalled, speaking more to himself than Siena.
She nodded briefly. Above and beyond, and that was why he was always gone.
Not important.
"I guess I don't see you as someone that would ignore anything that you can help with either, and I--" A cold realization settled over the girl. Something she hadn't really wanted to acknowledge or admit. She offered a weak smile. A co-dependent type of relationship, but..."I honestly don't think you need my help at all."
He took in a breath. Opened his mouth. The answer was already in his mind, pregnant thoughts giving birth to a messy reassurance. But Brent stopped. Reconsidered. And nodded once at her answer.
"Your turn, 'ena," the amethyst eyed youth said, turning his palms over, "Ask me anything."
"Alright." Anything. That was a lot of questions that could have come to mind, a lot of answers to sate her curiosity that might keep the usual desire to know everything at bay when she was around the boy. Still, there was only one real question that she knew she wanted to ask. Things were supposed to go both ways, right?
"What do you think of yourself? It doesn't have to be everything, but...some things."
Well...he had lead her into this after all, huh? Even if the turnaround would be her asking him what he thought of her. And ultimately, it's not like he hadn't shared parts of himself before. It wasn't fully intentional, what with it just being part of the torrent of self-loathing that slipped out, but still...he didn't know what Siena shared often, but this shouldn't be difficult. Brent had his own skeletons, of course, but he's lived with them long enough, fought with them long enough, that he was numb to it.
What he thought about himself? It was definitely less of what he didn't want to share and more of what Siena didn't need to hear, right?
"Going for the jugular with this, eh?" he grinned, leaning back on his seat, amethyst eyes no longer so focused on Siena's own. "Well, where to begin..."
False hesitation and unnecessary contemplation. The truth wasn't that complicated, shouldn't take that much time to consider.
"If everyone else is a statue, I'm a mold. Does that make sense? I think it does. If you imagine that mold as possessing an unreasonably tough exterior, you know?” Brent laughed, but he looked upwards instead, leaning back on the seat. “Did enough thinking in the past about this to know that I basically have no passions, only an arbitrary collection of likes and dislikes. Optimistically, that’s what drives me to try so hard at everything, why I dabble in everything. If I do find something one day, I don’t want to waste time building up my foundation. I think I’d like to just rush for it, headlong.”
He wasn’t forcing himself. His smiles were the same as always.
“Pessimistically, that means I’m empty and needy, a leech with no plans for the far future. That’s why I do this, you know? That’s why I care so much about what other people do, pushing them forwards once they have a goal, even if that means pushing them off a ledge.” Like Emma, who wasn’t ready yet to face the horrors of their current lives. Like Callan, who couldn’t deal with the implications that her superhuman body didn’t make her superhuman. Like Angelic, who he had inspired to continually rewrite herself, when her own will wasn’t nearly as broken as his own. “I have nothing, so all I want is to support others, who do have things they love and things they hate. I want to see them at their end goals, and if possible, to bask in that sense of achievement a bit.”
His smiles were the same as always, but there was a darkness there, swirling in his eyes as he rambled on towards the ceiling, knowing that something was going to break, that something was going to give.
“That’s why I go out of my way so much to help you, Siena. You have something I lack as well, something unique, and all I’m good for is helping you along there. It’s like…you know? ‘A tool’s only useful if it’s used’.” A quick breath. A transient eternity. “What else can I do?”
It was swirling in his eyes too much now, so he closed them.
“Sorry, I’m rambling and I haven’t even answered your question directly. What I think of myself?”
He envisioned sitting inside one of the Charger Hellcats, the heat on, every window closed, the muffler plugged, until the carbon monoxide dulled his thoughts and killed him.
“I think I’d rather be anyone else.”
Too far. That was another bridge burned. Should have thought more about it after all. Honesty was honestly horrible.
Siena listened, certainly, but her eyes peered for more than simple words. Searched for traces of emotions that she might be able to identify--was she really so useless without knowing how to manipulate?--and utilize at first, but as Brent spoke, the girl found herself less intent on her search, found that the words were familiar. So she peered at Brent with a quiet, stoic mask. Better not to see what the words did, better not to let on how far back she had to push everything so she could just listen. That was what she was better at, wasn't it?
And when he had finished, the mask slipped away, and she was left a child that was too young and listening to too much again. A child sitting prim and proper on a seat while Maya carefully did her hair, explained in quiet whispers what Siena had seen. What she had understood correctly and what she had misunderstood.
"Don't call yourself that." And something did break. A quiet, hurt tone that she couldn't hide. She didn't want to remember, those moments were too real. She couldn't do anything but accept that they had happened. They were real.
Once, she had looked him in the eye and forced him to tell the truth. Not Siena then, she had told herself, but since when had she drawn such stark distinctions between Ilsa and herself?
She took a deep breath, felt it shudder despite her best efforts to hold it steady. She held back the childish tantrum that wanted to shatter what remained of the dam that held everything in. No, she was better than that now. Siena knew that, but that didn't stop her from wanting to do it. How would it feel? If she shouted until someone listened to her? If she could do exactly what she had done then? No...she had to take a step back. It hadn't worked last time, it wouldn't work this time.
"Christ, you really are just like him." Calm yourself. "You haven't found a passion, so you reach the conclusion that you're empty?"
"Coward! You can't find something you care about, so you decide you're not worth anything? What the hell kind of reasoning is that?" She had shouted, her hands slamming hard against the solid oak of the table as her temper flared, heat rising, searing everything else inside until it backed away. "That's bullshit! You just don't want to risk not liking what you see if you decide there is something in there."
"It's not...it's not that simple."
"Yeah," Brent replied, opening his eyes once more, "Sorry to disappoint, but you have every right to be wary about me."
Nothing lingered in his eyes anymore, and he shifted forwards once more, elbows resting on the table. Strange, how even now, after peeling back the exterior to reveal the apathetic mind that rested within, the arbiter couldn't find himself capable of really...caring. No, that wasn't right. Her disbelief, her rejection, it all stung. But that was it. Just pinpricks.
She hadn't gone for the throat, hadn't tried to tear out his heart.
"Do you say that, though, because you've been there before?" A pause. No pause. "Or are you saying what you wanted to say in the past, to that other person?"
His eyes were clear. An empty, lifeless lake.
"If it's not that simple, what is it?"
Siena didn't hesitate when she saw the empty gaze.
He'd looked back at her with that same look when she'd dragged the truth from his mouth. Had been in a daze when her voice demanded what his own had not wanted to give.
"Both." The word was clear, and the brunette didn't know whether it was anger, concern, or legitimate bravery that kept it as so. She didn't tear her gaze away. She had said what she wanted to in the past, had burned one bridge while forming another, but that hadn't changed anything. It didn't mean a damn thing when it had come from her then, someone whose emptiness had been forged because she had tried too hard to please. Would he have been proud?
"So you don't have a passion yet, maybe you don't want to acknowledge that there is one. I can't speak for you." She didn't let herself flinch. Made herself keep pushing forward because this was why she was there, wasn't it? She could see the familiar look of apathy, and felt an uncomfortable apprehension creep up her spine. Familiar in more ways than one. You couldn't help him, you can't help this one either.Shut. Up. "But if you were empty, you wouldn't still be here. You, no, Brent is still the one sitting here." She felt a flash of anger, repressed it. An instinctive, frustrated desire to lash out at someone that couldn't find the value in what they had, what they were. The brunette knew better than to give in to the desire to do so.
Brent's still the one sitting here? The meaningless, perfect smile persisted.
Hah, there was a fire there after, huh? Through the fractures of the mask she wore, he could see it boiling, a maelstrom of emotions, a past that mattered. He was flattered, even, that she'd go out of her way to convince him otherwise, to get so worked up when his past experiences with her had been so controlled. Siena was revealing something he didn't have, a geniune...something. He couldn't, shouldn't identify it. Didn't have the right to. He'd never have the right, not if he still felt nothing when she spoke such words.
Not when all it did was chip away a little at his exterior.
"I'm not completely empty then," Brent replied, "Let's say I messed up with defining that. Let's say I do, indeed, have some degree of identity. But that's all. It's still not enough. A few droplets in a cup doesn't mean it's full, doesn't mean it's worth anything. It doesn't even matter if I have everything else, a fully formed list of likes and dislikes, a whole array of catchphrases and quotes, a whole battalion of friends and enemies."
Even now he could hear those words. Doesn't matter.
"As long as there's a gaping hole in which nothing fits, it doesn't matter. No amount of rhetoric can fix that."
And then, it slipped out. Involuntarily. Darkly.
"If you want me to act as a replacement for that other person though, I'd be fine with it."
Calm down. Calm down. CALM DOWN.
She could no more calm herself than she could put out a forest fire with a spray bottle of ethanol. Each attempt seemed to stoke the flames, had the inferno devour everything in its path until it was the only emotion that remained. White hot, a blinding sense of outrage that she wasn't unfamiliar with. It's been a long time, hm? Long enough that she'd forgotten what it was like, at least, for that unpleasant side to burn. Calm down. Calm down.
'Such a temper. Who did you pick that up from?'
"No." The word itself was calm, steady, it betrayed nothing of the hellstorm that brewed just beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to boil over. Calm down.
She had observed and imitated what she could, pulled on the back of his shirt and displayed it proudly, only to get a pitying expression followed by one of muted horror, and she could read it on his face. What had he done?
"You can't replace him." A vicious, brutal part of her wanted to scream, to turn his words back on him. How could someone that called themselves empty replace anyone? She swallowed the words, but they were like fire all the way down, scalded and seared everything. Burn it away until nothing will grow. Calm down. She tried, to no avail, to do as she commanded. A gaping hole where nothing fit. "Nothing fits? Have you even tried?" This wasn't calm, and though Siena tried to back away from the boiling tide, she couldn't escape it. Couldn't pretend that it wasn't as much a part of her as the white mark on her face. "You can't fill a void by pretending to be someone else. It doesn't work like that."
The sea continued to boil, threatening to overflow. Please, calm down.
"All those things that you've tried to find passion in, did you do any of them for yourself?"
Had he even tried? Did Siena spend so much time with her eyes glued to the screen of her Kindle that she didn't notice all the things he learned and continued to learn? A bitterness surfaced on the roof of his mouth, a sensation he hadn't tasted in a while. More cracks, more fractures, and still, the stimuli was lacking. He knew that it would be better to defuse the situation, to admit, perhaps falsely, that no, he didn't really try, and no, he didn't do it for himself.
But that was also wrong.
And she had ignored the other possibility. Didn't consider the other option. That he hadn't given up yet, that he still saw this only as a temporary status. That he killed his present self every morning in hopes that his reincarnation was something more. Did she have an answer past that point? Did she have an answer to the Brent that continued to amass skills for his own benefit, that supported others only to take a little bit of their strength for himself?
There was a storm brewing there, a storm reflected in that amethyst gaze that remained resolutely, stubbornly empty regardless of what meaning she tried to burn into it.
"Of course I did." A hard edge. "I've done everything for myself. I've learned to aim and shoot handguns, I've learned to climb, I've learned to cook, I've learned to drink, I've learned to fold origami, I've learned to kickbox, I've learned how to play DDR, I've learned how to do that shuffle-dance you see in night clubs, I've learned how to drive a cart, I've learned how to kill. And I've still planning on learning new things. I'm going to learn how to make pastries, I'm going to learn how to play musical instruments properly, I'm going to learn how to paint, I'm going to learn how to fish, I'm going to learn how to hunt, I'm going to learn how to use a knife properly in close quarters."
A breath. Deep and relaxed. "And that only encompasses the things I've learned since coming to USARILN. I've spent twelve years picking up a whole menagerie of things. I stargaze, I hike, I karaoke, I kayak, I waterski, I bike, I watch documentaries, I play Ultimate, I work out, I edit videos, I meme, I dispense love advice, I organize events, I act, I rollerblade, I pray, I review restaurants, I babysit, I teach elementary school kids, I track budgets, I make props, I boulder, I do all that and more."
Don't compare me to some sheltered bitch drunk on delusions.
"Do you think I'd let any of these skills, any of these experiences rot just because I don't feel anything for it? Do you think it detracts for the value of these skills just because I use them to help others? Do you think I've given up, Siena? Do you think I want to stay empty?" Bones were popping. The blood was quickening.
"Let me ask you again. This gaping, empty hole that remains unplugged. Do you have it still? Have you lived with it your entire life? Have you managed to fill it yet? Have you spent your waking hours trying to fill it all up?"
He had stopped smiling. It was twisting again. For an arbiter, he really was shitty, huh?
"Help me, Siena. And if you don't want to do that, bury me."
Did he think she would back down?
"Don't fuck with me." Words that belonged to her, words that weren't hers--the line was blurred a long time ago. Empty, meaningless tasks, and he still thought they were for him. She didn't flinch, felt the rest of that prim and proper bitch try to rise up and take control.
'No.'
"Do you honestly think any of those things were done for you and not whatever the fuck this is trying to pretend it's you?" The words were harder than she was used to hearing from her own mouth. A lifetime to sand off the hard edges that she couldn't remember being born with, and it was all coming apart. "You want me to be honest? Yeah, that hole, as you keep calling it? I still have it. I tried doing what you're doing now, and it didn't help. I tried to fill it by being more names than I can remember, and it made it worse. Do you really think who you're talking to now is the person I was before? Stupid little Siena Harker, who never got to exist?"
STEP BACK, LITTLE HARKER.
'No.'
"I did everything I could to fill it, I still do. When we're out fighting, when we're here, when I'm alone and trying to remember who the fuck I am, I can't afford to stop trying because almost everything that I was, everything that I ever will be has been ripped away by people that don't even exist." She'd torn her heart out and left it to die. How many times had she done it? Once? Twice? A hundred times? "But someone is still here, and I can work with that if I don't let myself look away from what I don't want to see."
The fire grew. Whose fire was it? Hers? Her mother's? Gerwulf's? Or maybe it was any of the names she'd stolen once before. Ilsa, Katherine, Kel, Holland, Victor.
"So tell me, Brent, all those skills and experiences, when you stop gaining them, what then? What do you do when you run out of things to do? Will you stop skimming everything then, or will you find another excuse to say that nothing fits so you can keep looking for something to distract you?" The torrent was rising, crashing against a feeble dam that couldn't hold when it was being assaulted by so much. The Santana in her said to quiet down, to apologize and be proper, but the Harker refused to listen. "Tell me, because I want to help."
She didn't falter. Didn't stop.
Are you satisfied now, little Harker?
"Tell me, because I won't let you get closer to becoming me."
It struck him harder than a slap in the face, when Siena finally tore off her mask to spit pure venom, laying bare her own thoughts, own traumas, own life. Struck him so hard because it was so clear now. Oh god. It was too late. They really were too close already. Birds of a feather flock together. Likes repel. Harker. Roless. Holy shit.
It was surfacing now, and he couldn't stop it, peals of hyena-like laughter rushing out of him as his smile finally turned into that predatorial, fanged sneer he held when he was alone in Wisford.
This was too much. This was too hilarious. This was too, much too excruciating.
"You don't see it, Harker? You don't feel it already?" The arbiter, no, the boy, stood up from his seat, the silver blood with him boiling in ecstasy and agony. "You don't know yet, do you? Superficial the differences that remain are? Come on, you read, don't you? Say it out loud, Harker! What does 'Roless' sound like? We both don't exist, huh? We're just two unwanted phantoms, bearing names too heavy for our small, pitiful, bullshit selves to carry!"
"You find solace in names, in powers, in the people who you take from the books. I find solace in skills, in objects, in things without a thought and a voice of their own! And we both have such mind-blowing, incomprehensible versatility because we don't have ourselves!" His voice boomed, jubilant, mad, hands stretched out to the side. Embracing this revulsion that stained his tongue with poison. "I don't think about 'what then'! I think about 'what's next'! The summit I've chosen is ridiculously high, and subnatural I am now isn't going to survive that climb. Why else would I plunge headlong into danger, while everyone else wants to run?!"
Rein himself in? He didn't need that now. A flick of the wrist and he felt the heat rush up his brain, felt the poison making his heart beat.
"I improve myself, kill myself every day. If one day it doesn't make me better, it'll kill me. And I'm fine with that."
A last plea? A last wish? A last miracle? No, it was nothing pretty or pitiful like that.
"I can't stop myself, and I can't help myself, cause I don't think I'm worth all that effort."
Just a final truth, by a boy without a family.
"If you're going to help me, you're gonna have to force me."
And that predatorial smirk became too painful to hold any longer.
"So come on, Harker. Show me your fangs."
She didn't know what broke, something did. Hers? His? The words cut, but not as much as the name. Harker. Each time Brent said it, the brand pressed deeper, searing until it left its mark, made her remember what she wasn't anymore. Siena Harker, Siena Santana. Somewhere, far beyond the haze of heat, a quiet voice wondered how long it had been since anyone had called her Harker. A quiet voice wondered where Roless was.
Where are you now?
He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right. There were too many things in between for him to be either, but that didn't stop it from rending into her. Finally, past the outside, and this was what the payoff was, said the proper girl. Finally, something out of him, said the fire that reached with outstretched fingers, ravenous for more kindling. It wasn't the same kind of feeling when her need to know ate at her.
But all those words, and none managed to sink into her flesh like the last.
Show me your fangs.
He stepped too close, pushed her back with a hard motion that made her stagger, tore her eyes up from the floor where they had been for too many minutes, a tranquil anger in his expression, a hard edge on his words. Siena looked up, met emerald eyes and an expression she hadn't seen before. So many faces, but she'd never seen him angry.
"If someone pushes you around, you fight back, damn it!"
She was pushed back another few steps, her back hitting the wall, the eyes boring further in. Past Santana, past Harker.
Show me your fangs.
Siena rose to her feet, eyes still grey, but blinded by something that wasn't just the inferno that lingered. The stack of books toppled with the abrupt motion, fell in a haphazard heap onto the table like a broken tower, and then went unnoticed by the brunette. Too close. Too much. She grit her teeth, felt the ocean boil over and scald every part of her it touched. Too far gone, too close to home. He wanted fangs? Fine.
A quick motion, practiced and trained--once, she had landed it badly. Had to wrap her fingers together and felt as though she'd disappointed him--but the fist wasn't angled to where she should have aimed it. Not to the jaw--too much for too little payoff in showing her fangs. Just a bit higher, a controlled attack that spoke for more than her words could.
A burst of light, a flash of pain, and his head snapped back, two steps taken, retreating from the force of the blow. There was a grace there, a fluidity that didn't make sense for someone who was just a sheltered bookworm...but that wasn't what Harker was, was it? He wanted to taste that, and he did, the sharpness of the initial strike turned into a dull burn that throbbed and throbbed.
It'd been a while since he took such a hit.
You're sick.
His own fists clenched, the nostalgia and the disgust fusing together. The boy's jaw clicked. Not enough yet. He didn't go this far just for half-measures and warning shots.
"That the best you got?! Angelic hits harder than that with her words alone!"
One heavy kick drove his foot into the edge of the table, flipping it forwards and upwards. A part of him didn't want to break anything, but another part knew that this wasn't going to end without breaking things.
'He's stronger than you.' Siena didn't have to let the thought complete to know that. She had given up any chance of that kind of raw strength when she chose to accept herself as Santana. Her body was moving as soon as the table started shifting its position, the sound of a heavy blow not entirely registering as Siena pushed back, her chair hitting the floor, the sound of her sanctuary falling apart, books falling like debris to the ground.
She couldn't clear it before it rose to greet her.
The table hit with an unsurprising amount of force, enough to push her back, enough to have her feet catch in the legs of the fallen chair and send her for the floor--or it would have, if her muscles hadn't remembered how to manage. She shifted her weight, redirected the momentum into a roll that had her hitting another set of chairs, but the girl was back on her feet just a split second faster with the roll, and the barrier that had separated the two was overturned. A dull ache spread where the table had managed to make contact--probably enough to bruise--but it only drew the faintest trace of a cool smile that didn't match with the fire. Real.
"No place for words here, right?" Are you satisfied, little Harker? Forward she went, closing the distance, teeth clenched and a low kick aimed, again, just off the mark.
She rolled with it. Of course she did. If Harker fell over after something as useless as that, then he'd really have just been fighting Santana all along. Only a few seconds in, and the library was already a mess, chairs strewn on the floor while books laid in disarray. The sharper, more rational part of him told him he should move this outside, that he was just being a brat, but it didn't matter all that much at all.
Brent was just a boy, in the end.
"Hella right," he replied, closing the distance as she did. His amethyst eyes, wide and wild, caught the shift in her front leg as it blurred into a low kick, and Brent bent it in response, leg muscles becoming taut. Another dull pain, bursting out into his calf, caused his own knuckles to tighten until they were bone-white, a full force left straight cannonballing into Siena's chest. Was she still taking this easy? Was it that hard to aim for his knee?
C'mon, you can't stop anyone with just that much determination.
Fuck.
A hollow sound accompanied the impact of Brent's fist, the force sending Siena staggering back. The ache wasn't sharp, a bruising pain that spread before prickling out into a static-like numbness. He's not holding back.'No shit.' She coughed, more to clear what breath had caught at the surprise of impact, and the fire burned hotter. It wasn't the worst hit she'd ever taken, but it wasn't one that she could expect to take a second time at full force.
Fuck, don't just stand there.
But she needed the moment to breathe, to regain herself, and her body refused to fully listen. A distant throb reminded her. Real.
"Fuck, don't just stand there," Brent grimaced, shaking out his hand, "What the hell are you made of, Harker, sugar and feather down?"
A grimace when movement reignited the pain, something else behind the grimace that reared its ugly head. Real. That was how she remembered, wasn't it?
"Ngh...don't wanna hear that from someone who can't throw a proper punch." But shit, that had hurt more than she'd expected. Another breath was all it took for her to remember how to move again, once again closing the distance, pushing to get closer than before, the motion to attack starting too late for a real punch.
Well, it wasn't one.
Her arm drew up, thumb tucked to the chest, the sharp point of an elbow exposed for an instant before she struck, the movement prepared to drive through to the solar plexus.
Another jab? Or a haymaker this time? A kick, even?
"Don't say that when you g-"
It was neither. An elbow strike, performed with the rotation of the hip, so that the sharpest, boniest point could smash into the center of his chest. Couldn't counterpunch this. Didn't understand in time to block. Oh shit!
An instinctive jerk caused it to strike the left side of his chest instead, a heavy impact almost knocking him flat on his ass. He had traded a crippling blow for a devastating one, every instinct in his body telling him to fold over and gasp for air. But he had built himself up stronger than that, and expecting Harker to be kind enough to not follow-through was sheer idiocy. The same idiocy that drove his blood to boiling, the same that had caused him to egg her on to begin with.
His heart pounded in his ribs, as he dropped himself into a tackle, lunging forward with arms raised upfront.
Resilient bastard. Brent was quick to react, had turned away from something that would have kept any normal person down, and was quick to react. If Siena hadn't been struggling with her own breath, she might have been able to redistribute her weight in time to step back for a counter, but her body demanded air before it would move like she wanted it to, and only one leg managed to step back, barely managed to twist her elbow to try and keep some distance.
It didn't work--like trying to stop a damn boulder from getting too close, even with every technique in the book to ground her.
'Oh, shi--' She tried to reach to crank the neck up and away, force the body to listen, but her hands didn't find purchase, didn't even manage to reach hair before the stomach twisting sensation of falling took over. Bad. Her body twisted, hit the ground with a shoulder instead of her head, but that didn't stop the impact from making her vision swing out of focus for an instant. Bad...!
Down didn't mean out.
She grit her teeth, tried to swing for the side of Brent's head. Jaw, behind the ear, anything that might daze the boy.
Even Brent was surprised at how far he drove her before the two of them tumbled onto the ground. Light. She was so light. Despite all her fury, despite all her technique, despite all her surprises, Siena Santana, Siena Harker, whoever she was at the moment was too...light. But the two of them were on the ground once more, bodies pressed against each other, the warmth, the heat, blazing and beating like asphalt on a summer day. There was something there. Something that didn't belong. Something that wasn't his. Something different from the dream that pulled him down that path.
Their physical differences was almost insurmountable, but she fought back regardless, and he responded regardless.
Harker was dangerous now.
Left forearm out, cutting the path of the swing short, decisively swatting it away.
Right fist clenched, a jab right to the nose.
Disorientate. Debilitate. Decimate.
Early mornings with Angelic flowed back in, drills and exercises turned to destructive force as he continued on. This wasn't DC. She wouldn't be nearly as easy as the crusher mage and their gelatinous companion.
Stars exploded in her vision, little more than blots of vibrant color that flashed in wavering stability. Eyes watering, the pinprick sensation shooting through her skull, a thousand lances that caught the back of her throat. Fuckfuckfuck! Siena couldn't keep herself from flinching at the impact, didn't taste copper--at least she didn't bleed. The second hit didn't jar as badly as the first, but it was more than enough for instinct to kick into gear. Logically, the fight might as well have been over. Logically, she would have drawn the parallel to countless failed attempts to escape the same scenario--in case you need it--but logic couldn't win when she couldn't give up.
A blurred movement through the mist of pain, and Siena was in action again.
'Nullify potential attacks before you try a reversal this time.'
Chest hurts.
She tried to push herself up, head turned toward the incoming jab--'Makes them hit wide of the target.'--arms moving to try and wrap around. Pull the attacker close, try to remember all the moving parts to make the flip. Siena wasn't sure she could.
You're gonna have to force me.
She had to try. Hook, overhook, buck and push--something seemed to give with the extra leverage. It worked? It had never worked before, but the thought didn't have time to clear before a louder one screamed at the top of its lungs. GET UP. She couldn't hold that position, but everything felt so heavy. The fire kept burning, but her breath was running out. Shit.
Fast and fluid. A technique he had not had the pleasure of being on the other side of, executed quickly enough that Brent's mind couldn't keep up with the physics involved until their positions were reversed, Harker on top, her gray eyes a storm that was...
...weakening.
He wasn't blind. She was too light, too tired, and never, ever nourished enough for this. It had only been two days since DC, and compared to him, she had used her power much more than he had. By all accounts, Brent was more or less cheating, picking on someone so much smaller than him while they still hadn't had the chance to recover fully from a previous trial. By all accounts, winning like this would leave only a bad taste in his mouth.
But she was still burning. But he was still burning.
"C'mon Harker, aren't you more than this?" Her body pushing against his, he could feel it clearly, how light she was. Unfair. But he swung with all his might anyways, an unfocused, wild right hook. Blocked, but the force alone was still enough to push her off.
"You're more than some sheltered bitch that never got to live!"
He pushed himself up as she did, rushing forward into a bodyslam.
The floor again--she was getting sick of being down. Pushing herself to her feet was the easy part, but easy was only relative to the effort of having to move again after. Siena could feel herself slowing down, knew that she couldn't afford to slow down when Brent was there, rushing at her. Taking the hit wasn't an option, she'd tried and failed once already, and that hadn't been all the weight available.
Move.
He's faster than you. No shit, but that didn't mean to stand there and take the damn hit. She felt her body try to move for any space that was open, anywhere to try and squeeze past without breaking his momentum by taking the impact. Too slow. All that managed to alleviate was the barest fraction of force. Nothing in the big picture. Her feet left the ground, again the sensation of falling, again, she steeled herself.
Another impact that was too light, too soft as he slammed into Harker, the woman tumbling onto the library floor once more. Another tinge of pity, of sympathy, squashed by the heat that burned inside, the recognition that she was still alive.
"You're more than some wallflower bookworm that never got to breathe!"
No mercy. Only push and push and push! Thundering steps brought Brent in range for a great leap, past the scattered books and toppled chairs, two feet ready to stomp down on the woman who was down, but not, definitely not, out.
That will kill you.
No shit.
Siena felt herself rolling out of the way, moving for a recovery, making it to her feet faster than ever in the stark moment of knowing how dangerously close that was. Head spinning, vision only clearing where she focused, but the Arbiter tried to let the last vestiges of adrenaline fuel the fire. Burn, damn it.
"This isn't about me, goddamn it!" She threw another punch, couldn't focus her aim enough to trust anything smaller than center mass.
It struck dead centre, a blow that could have been blocked, dodged, countered, but wasn't. She was burning out while he was still at full force, but even running on mere fumes, there was a weight beyond that, greater than her weight and strength.
Admirable. Shit, whoever she thought she was, Brent couldn't help but be impressed.
"For me, it is," Brent replied, that razor sharp intensity in his eyes once again, "Doesn't matter whether you're Harker, Santana, or any other identity you've scrounged together. You're 1000% greater than them combined!"
A left straight followed, the same that crumpled her previously, filled with an unnatural ferocity and an unspoken hope.
It came again, but she didn't flinch. Moved into it, grimaced at the impact, but didn't feel it quite so much. A whirlwhind, a storm, a fire--she couldn't identify it quickly enough. Only that it was overwhelming as she reached for something, anything for purchase.
"What good is that if I can't help you?!" Ferocity. No, not that. Something beyond that, but she couldn't tell. Harker burned out, reduced Santana to crackling ash, left something that she couldn't recognize through the heavy breaths and the aches that reminded her over and over again with each pulse. Real.
She hadn't even flinched this time, standing there even as exhausted as she should have been after taking so much punishment. Hadn't flinched, and remained steadfast in the face of all of this.
Such bullheaded stubbornness. If he had aimed a blow to the face, she probably would have head butted his fist.
But he couldn't figure out how to answer that question. Even after laying bare the ugliest parts of themselves, it's not like they got anywhere. Just a bunch of idiots pretending to be smart while bashing their heads against each other's walls. Brent shook his head, chuckling in spite of the fact his jaw throbbed when he did. Pulling up a toppled chair, he slid it over to Siena before grabbing one of his own, plopping down.
"We're both hella messed up, huh?"
If she could have been more graceful than all but collapsing into the chair, she would have, but that was too much to ask when everything hurt and all the kindling she had to offer burned itself out. If Siena could have laughed, she might have. The best she could manage was a few breaths that might have passed. Fuck, that hurt.
"I think that might be an understatement." A grimace as she breathed too deep and the fresh bruises screamed in protest. Shouldn't have taken so many hits, but the girl managed a restrained fascimile of a laugh on her second attempt. "A'least we've--ow--got each other."
"Hah," Brent wheezed, a lopsided grin forming, "An aficionado of buddy films too?"
"Ugh..." The laugh still hurt, the returned smile despite the words easier to manage. "I should punch you again for that."
"And break your hand against my jaw?"
"Ouch, consider my pride wounded," Siena claimed while pushing her bangs out of her face, fingers catching in newly formed tangles as she did so. Her pride and about every other part of her, really. The girl pushed herself upright, the throbbing reminding her with more vigor than before. Real. Something else stirred, uncomfortable and familiar, but there was no Santana to trample it underfoot. No Harker to vehemently deny it, just Siena left behind, unable to justify it. You're not supposed to care. She grinned, mischief lightly coating the action like a fine powder. "I think I can break my hand on something a little better than that."
"Don't worry," Brent laughed, reaching for a drink that wasn't there, "Pretty sure you can take down any other guy with those moves. That reversal was sorta mindblowing."
He coughed a couple more times, smacking a hand against his chest to get that lump out. A 'harrumph' cleared his throat handily, right in time for him to sputter again at Siena's...joke? What? Temporarily bamboozled at how terrible of a 'joke' that was, Brent arced an eyebrow, replying, "What would that be? A block of gold? I'll have you know my jaw's pretty high value."
"High value?" The brunette gave a cheeky grin before struggling to her feet. Just about every part of her found a reason to hate the action. Everything tastes like ouch. Could be worse. "You appraise that yourself or something?"
"Naturally," he stated, "But if you doubt my appraisal, go ahead."
"Inviting a rich girl for appraisal...awfully confident." Still, it wasn't as if there wasn't something to be gained from it. Carefully, with the same delicacy she would have approached a book on the verge of crumbling to dust, the girl reached toward his right side, where she'd initially struck. A cautious, featherlight touch where she remembered knuckles meeting flesh, eyes trained more for signs that it would bruise than any actual judgement.
'Well, it's sturdy.' Even if her punch had landed just a bit wide of real impact, it didn't seem like it had taken any exceptional damage. Surprising.
Not exactly the most striking feature there though, right? Hard to compare something as mundane as a jawline to a striking eye color--or maybe it was the look? She didn't quite know. Only knew that she hid her own because she didn't like when others could see that her eyes weren't the ones watching.
"Well, I guess a bruise is supposed to be manly."
Wait, was she actu-
"Doesn't that mean you're manlier than me now?" he teased, burying surprise and embarrassment with wit, "Bet there's gonna be a whole tapestry in the morning. Still..."
His gaze left hers, sweeping across the library that had been trashed during their little tussle.
"...how's that honesty thing feel?"
Satisfied with what little evaluation she could make on the most visible injury, Siena withdrew her hand as her attention followed where Brent's had gone. It was quite a mess to clean up.
"Like getting punched. A lot." A little more literal than most answers, but it certainly wasn't wrong. "Surprisingly, not that bad."
A pause as she lightly scratched her cheek with one hand, taking in the overturned furniture and scattered books.
"It does cause a bit of a mess though..."
"Might be an understatement here," he chuckled, "But sounds about right."
A pause. A recollection. What was he here for again? Right, confirmation.
"Can I trust you, 'ena?"
Trusting her. It sounded so foreign to her ears, sounded strange to even consider. Santana, Harker, whatever remnant they left behind when both were burned away.
But it had remained, a fearless confirmation beyond the doubts she'd carried. What good is that if I can't help you? It had remained after everything else had been reduced to ash.
She turned her gaze back to Brent, grey eyes settling on the boy. Grey eyes. Her eyes.
Siena had debated on the message for hours after replacing the battery in her phone, her mind a tempest that threatened to drown her. The words didn't bring comfort, nor did they really elicit a reaction that Siena knew how to categorize. She knew better than to ignore the message though, knew better than to let it sit for as long as it already had. Knew better than to keep the sender waiting. The girl brushed her hair out of her eyes, stared at her phone for a moment longer. She had to call him, said the part of her that knew she'd delayed for long enough. It had been days since the message was sent, and who knew how many hours since she'd seen it. Settling at the entrance of her room, Siena wondered briefly if she should find somewhere more isolated, but she sincerely doubted that anywhere was going to be much safer.
At least with the door open just a crack, there would be a quick way out to find somewhere, anywhere, to get away if she had to.
Her fingers tapped the call icon and listened to the rings, each one making a vice grow tighter around her chest until she felt like she might suffocate from the pressure. She wanted to cancel the call, to hang up before anyone could answer, but she waited, as though frozen in place. She felt her breath come short, and she held it when one ring was finally cut short. Please.
The plea was not answered.
"Siena."
"You...you asked me to call...?"
"I see you've made some appearances on the news." The deep voice was cool and calm. Something familiar and altogether unsettling fell over her shoulders like a heavy drape. This wasn't the voice she knew. This wasn't what she was used to hearing. Siena felt her breath catch in her throat for an instant as she took a soft breath, hopefully quiet enough so that it wouldn't be noticed. "Quite the show, diving through a building. What was it they called you? Sylph?"
"I...yes, sir." She still didn't know how to react.
"Don't do anything that pathetic again. Subnatural or not, you're a Santana." Siena flinched at the words. Subnatural and Santana. Not Siena. "But I suppose I have to applaud you for finding a use for yourself."
Something was wrong here. The image that settled in her head and the voice that was speaking in her ear didn't coincide despite coming from the same person. Siena furrowed her brow, felt heat rising through her chest, up to her throat until she didn't trust herself to speak. Something didn't match up, and she wasn't sure which memory was wrong. Siena didn't know if she wanted to know, but something scalded her like heated metal up against her neck when she considered trying to find out. There was one she wanted to be right, and if it was wrong...
"A use...?" Barely audible, but Siena didn't have herself falter. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're a subnatural. A leg in the door, so to speak." As though he could sense the impending question, the man continued speaking, allowing no time for Siena to recover from the statement. A leg in the door? "Prove yourself useful on the field. If you can make a name for yourself, we'll benefit from it too."
It stung deep, but she knew the answer.
"I understand." A pause as she hesitated. "Papa...?"
"Siena." Unforgiving. She was wrong.
"...father. Forgive me." With a single word, the memories fell back into place, the hazy ones of a father that cared slipping through her fingers, no longer a reality that she clung to, but a memory that was wrong again. Like Emily--was that even the name that the sister had taken? Or was it Elizabeth? Emma? Elaine?--was just an event to fit the emotions she could no longer discern. Hers? A mark's? Did she really think it mattered? "You were hoping to have a subnatural in your family?"
"Not exactly, but having a monster in the bloodline will do wonders for the Santanas."
"I-I...I see. It would...be a strong move. You don't need to publically accept a subnatural, but you can still demonstrate control over it." The rationality was blindingly obvious. It hurt her less than it should have. "If you can control a monstrosity that looks human, then people will flock to your company in droves."
That was the line that caused Marcus to stop in his tracks. There were a few things nowadays that immediately caught his attention when they were said, if only for his own self-preservation. The words 'subnatural' and 'control' utilized in the same sentance was one of those triggers, irregardless of the speaker. It was a sad truth, but after everything that had happened in D.C, Marcus was running a little low on trust...for anybody.
The plaque that shown on the door was a name he wished had been any other; Siena. The girl who he'd betrayed back in the ruins, sending her into a full-fledged meltdown because it had been what he thought was right. He felt guilt, and he felt remorse, but none of that had changed his justification - a theme that hung over the incident as a whole.
He didn't know her resources. He didn't know her background. Only that she was rich and not super willing to talk about it. He certainly didn't know how much he could trust her, or how much she trusted him.
And, as he waited outside the door listening intently, he learned that she probably trusted him too much.
"Good," said the head of the Santana family. Siena could practically see the sickly sweet smile spread over his face, though the features were starkly out of place on the image she created in her head. Features she didn't quite know how to age, or maybe it was the rest that she hadn't aged properly. "So Maya did manage to teach you something."
"But I belong to USARILN now. I--"
"Surrendered yourself, correct? I heard from Maya. Needless to say, if the public asks, we will tell them it was at our command." Another spire in her chest. She couldn't breathe. It was not merely a statement, it was a demand. One that Siena couldn't bring herself to turn down despite everything saying that she should. "Do good work out there, Siena. There may be a use for you yet."
"Yes, father."
Marcus's heart twisted in his stomach. The forceful tone and wording, as if someone was talking to a pet. That much made him angry enough to want to kick the door down, and tell the man on the other end exactly where he could shove his commands. Even if they weren't on speaking (or even trusting) terms, he still cared about his classmates. If there was one thing he'd proven in D.C, it was that he wasn't afraid to defend them.
Siena's reply twisted his emotions completely. Rage simmered down to cloying pity so fast, it nearly left Marcus in a state of perplexed confusion. 'Father'. Someone who was supposed to be a role model - a hero. To be such a...scummy prick. He was physically sad for the poor girl.
"Oh, and...do try to be a little more dignified if you're going to be caught on camera. Your mother was sorely disappointed in your appearance." Siena flinched at the mention of her mother. Were those more memories that didn't align properly? She remembered two versions of her mother. One that was warm, like the image she'd created of her father, and one that was...cold. Relentless. Part of the mage wondered if they were simply the same person with different masks on, but everything was unstable. She was too afraid to push further, too afraid to lose what little footing she could still muster.
"Father...?" A silence that begged the completion of the sentence. She wasn't worth the words. "How did you get my contact information?"
"Simple." She could imagine that predatory smile again, like a cat toying with its prey. "I only had to ask that cur you call a butler for it."
No. No, that was a lie. Siena felt her heart sieze, as though it had forgotten how to beat. Gerwulf? An icy feeling pierced through her, a thousand needles that made her nerves sing with devastation. A sharp, cutting agony that she couldn't recognize as anything but betrayal. She'd felt it plenty of times in the past few days...and her father, someone whose mastery of people ran well beyond what Maya was capable of, knew in an instant.
"Don't forget, he was there because I had him placed there." Right...it was so easy to forget when both Maya and Gerwulf had been constant presences in her life. The only ones she could really speak of. "And he knows that while you may not be expendable yet, he certainly is." A pause to let everything sink in, to permeate Siena's mind with doubts. "Good night, Siena."
"Good night, fa--!"
He didn't wait for a response before he hung up, and Siena slowly brought the phone away from her face, staring at a message screen devoid of anything but a single order and a call notification. Her fingers hovered over the buttons that would take her from that conversation to another. One where she could get answers and...
...she needed air.
Quietly, Siena dragged herself from her position, the shift not significant given her decision to linger near the door. A few strides, a quick motion to open the door, and--
'Wh-What?'
Someone was at her door, someone was at her door! Alarms raised as Siena took an attempt at a half step back, her vision seeking anything recognizeable. It took a moment for the features to match to a face. "Marcus?!" That was certainly him looking equally startled, like he might bolt at any second. How long had he been standing there? Grey eyes narrowed, darted from her phone and back to the boy. "What are you...?"
"Si-Siena!" Marcus stammered with surprised, one million volts of panic having immediately surged to his heart when the door swung open. "I-I-I was just...exploring the place! Big place! Lots of things around!"
Marcus was a very bad liar when he was startled.
"And...I...wanted to come check up on you! See how you were settling in right now! Because, hey; this must be like home to you!"
Oh no. Oh shit. Bad topic. Literally anything but that.
WHY ARE YOU SO DUUUUUMMMB!?.
About nine different red flags rose while twelve different alarms started going off in Siena's head. Marcus was lying--why? And he'd been outside her door, and why was he so startled about--
Like home...?
Siena couldn't hold back the flinch, recoiling faintly away from Marcus, her feet taking her a few inches back. Home. It was to some extent, but it wasn't the home that she wanted to remember. It was filled with servants, filled with people, and run by an absent authority. Like the home that she was reminded of. The brunette found herself at a loss for words briefly.
"S-sort of..." Her voice came out weak, barely above a whisper, and Siena could hardly believe it was coming from her mouth. She tried to correct it with the next phrase, then cursed herself when the words trembled, as though on the brink of breaking. "It's familiar."
"Shit- no...Siena..." Marcus said, his body forcing him a half step closer to her as she recoiled. "I...I-" he searched for the words, but there was nothing to find. Nothing in his repitoire to help this situation. His role as Morale Guardian had been completely blown out the water around the time he'd gotten Savannah killed, and now there was nothing to take it's place.
"I-I'm sorry..." he said faintly.
Why was he apologizing? The question was rhetorical because she knew. He'd heard something, maybe everything. She didn't know. Her eyes shot up at the close proximity, memories of having her phone in hand one moment and the screen going dark the next bearing down like a landslide. Despite her best efforts, the brunette felt herself instinctively trying to step back. She didn't manage to stop herself before the first inch, her position steadying itself after a moment.
"How....how much did you hear?" The mask didn't even have a chance to form, grey eyes only meeting her roommate's gaze for an instant before immediately darting away for anythig else to focus on.
"I-I didn't hear anything. I only just got to your door." Marcus stammered after a slight pause.
"You're really not a very good liar, Marcus." Words that lacked any real intonation. As if she as stating a fact , reciting it from a book of observations. She didn't make a move to look the boy in the eye. "So please don't lie about this."
Marcus sighed. He knew that. Yet, he still attempted to do it as if he'd eventually find someone dumb enough to take everything he said at face value.
"Something about controlling a subnatural. But I didn't even know it was you and I was just worried that Zhang or someone was plotting behind closed doors..."
"Oh." Somehow, the word felt hollow. "It's..." Siena hesitated. The brunette felt her hand going to her arm, nails digging into the skin, scarlet marks blooming underneath. "It's not like that." That was a total lie, and even she couldn't deny the words that had come out of her mouth. "...complicated." She didn't know if she could set the mask this time, so Siena didn't bother. Only kept her eyes turned down, away. Did he know who she was talking to? Of course he did, that was what caused the reaction to begin with.
"Or maybe it's not. I don't know."
"I gathered..." Marcus said bluntly, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. He desperately wanted to just leave, and his eyes dared to glance up at Siena for a brief second. A quick scan to see if there was anything in her face that said he could make his excuses and run off now, rather than sitting here like an animal caught in a trap.
The glance, Siena didn't notice for a moment. Not until she adjusted her gaze, to see what there was to read, only to see he was doing the same thing. A defensive instinct reared its head, and Siena immediately tore her eyes away, set her features into a neutral expression to hide what she wanted read despite knowing it was probably too late. It would have been easier to let him go. Let him pretend that nothing was wrong, that he hadn't heard anything.
But again the cold, sharp edge of betrayal bit into her flesh, this time eliciting a thorny self-defense mechanism.
"Don't...don't tell anyone." Just enough pain in her voice to elicit the image of a vulnerable girl. "About this. About what happened back at DC."
'What happened back at DC'. There were plenty of things that had happened back at DC, most of which he desperately hoped he never have to tell anybody. If he was telling people about some of the things that happened it wouldn't be a story; it'd be a confession. Of course, he knew exactly what it was she was referring to: the breakdown. Her apparent weakness being loss of material.
As much as he wanted to say that she needed to talk to somebody about that, he knew it was only hypocracy. Why should he pressure other people to fix their flaws and staunchly refuse to fix his own? Flaws and fears that had done more than leave him hyperventilating on the ground.
His eyes dared to search her face one more time, to judge how much damage he'd done. "Of course."
Eyes up, Siena.
She did so, caught the observant gaze, made sure that Marcus caught the motion, and quickly constructed the layers necessary. First, a flash of hurt--not pain. Hurt. Hurt was harder to justify. Hurt was harder to shrug off. Hurt meant that there was someone to blame. It didn't smooth out like she usually forced it to, instead leaving its mark behind on the next mask, the one that she made obvious was exactly that. A mask. A moment where she hesitated, made sure that said hesitation was broadcast.
But maybe her observations were wrong.
No. She doubted it.
One hand on the door, a quiet gaze sent to her phone. A perfectly painted look of conflict, as though contemplating on whether she'd made the right choice. Whether she should close the door--a faint motion, as though she was going to. A pause as she stopped. Another flash of uncertainty. The message Siena created should have been clear:
I don't know who to talk to.
Except she did, and she knew where this road would lead, but the hurt and betrayals had cut too deep, and all she wanted was for someone to get it, for someone to feel the same way she did, even if it was for just a second...or maybe it was just some petty feeling of wanting to lash out. To hurt someone because she had been hurt.
Just like a damn animal.
"Um...th...anks..."
A lot. A lot of damage had been done. As many times as he played the scene over in his head, he always came back to the same statement: he sent Siena - the one person on this whole team who seemed like had some semblance of 'having it together', into a full-blown panic attack. He'd used his power on someone he cared about for offensive purposes, even if he was trying to keep them from hurting themselves.
He didn't know Siena at all. He didn't know her thought process or her ideas, or anything she had ever been through - and he made a decision based on what he thought he knew.
And here she was, in the aftermath of it all. Hurt. Betrayed. Probably even more after the discussion with her father. And he'd done nothing to make it better. If anything he'd made it worse.
The least he could do was offer a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.
"Siena...do you want to talk? Maybe clear your head a little?" he asked, prefacing the sentance with an inward sigh.
So she wasn't wrong. Something between shame and satisfaction rose, but Siena smothered it behind a seamless act. Be vulnerable, be timid, be exactly what he expected to see. This isn't fair to him. The thought was formed with absolute clarity, and Siena didn't deny it. This wasn't fair.
"I..." Show the perfect amount of hesitation. The perfect amount of uncertainty. She could practically hear Maya's voice murmuring in her ear, the woman's hands gently prodding her along the path. "...don't know." Breathe, hold the breath. Look away. He'd heard something from her father, so this would be easier to sell. You sound like Maya. A twinge of guilt that she genuinely felt, but didn't let show. "I never really...um..." Let him finish the thought, chided the soft voice in her head. So she did. Glanced away like she was lost.
"Never really talked about this kind of stuff?" Marcus said, filling in what he believed was the hanging end to Siena's statement. "That's fine - say as much or as little as you need to. Just to get it off your chest."
Careful how you step now, Siena. The voice was little more than a whisper, but it was enough. The brunette bit her lip for a moment, as though trying to figure out exactly how to start. A cruel, bitter part of her wondered exactly how much truth she could give before one or the other would break. It was a mild, warm curiosity that only helped to bolster her resolve. Such a temper. You really should work on that. A careful, deep breath that she restrained only to make it seem as though she was trying to hide it prefaced the next words.
"It's not...I don't..." She paired the words with an expression that wasn't entirely fabricated, lost and confused. She bit her lip again, furrowed her brow as though trying with more effort than it should have taken to word the next claims. The words came slowly, deliberately, as though she had to carefully select them from a mass of other ones. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"Just start from the beginning of whichever part is on your mind. Or start from the part you're the most comfortable talking about." Marcus said, trying to make his voice sound as reassuring as possible, despite the slight shake that plagued his words.
She should have felt worse.
"...a-alright..." Siena hesitated, her eyes still turned to the floor. A moment of silence before the mage took a breath, as though to steel herself. It was necessary, she knew. Not only to sell the part, but also to tell the truth. She felt another throb of guilt, but convinced herself it was just a means to an end. "Um...I guess you'd probably find out eventually from Emma anyways." Words that marked she was stalling. Words that she didn't believe because she didn't doubt that Emma would have made some excuse unless--well...perhaps she wouldn't have bothered at that point. "I um...back at the--I mean..."
Another deep breath, another look of uncertainty, and then words spoken quietly with an averted gaze.
"I guess it's easier to start by explaining wh-what--" She corrected herself. Quieted her voice more. "Sorry. Why."
Marcus stood silently, awaiting the rest of Siena's speech. The back of his mind noted the mention of Emma, and how she'd apparently known...something? Did she know about Siena's panic attacks too? Why wouldn't she have mentioned something as mission critical as that if she did know abou-
Well, the answer was obvious. She made the same promise he did.
He was listening. Good.
Isn't this a bit cruel?
"...um..." Another breath, this one followed by a soft curse as though she didn't know exactly what she was going to say. "When I...um..." The realization settled in too late. She didn't really know how to explain. To Emma, it had been easy. Why she didn't want to be around others after the fact, but that wasn't the same thing. "Actually, that's not a good way to start."
A pause as she regathered her thoughts.
"Right, so um...I guess just...for a second, just try and remember the most extreme emotions you've ever felt. A few of them. Doesn't matter which ones." Her fingers tightened around her phone for an instant, as though it was a security blanket--Siena didn't entirely notice the action. "What caused them, what they did to your perception, anything and everything you can about them."
Marcus shifted uncomfortably, the feeling of an old wound seemingly throbbing, just to remind him it was there as Siena spoke. He was familiar with extreme emotions, and as much as she was trying to get him to think about them, he had always been trying to repress them. He remembered, he would always remember, but it wasn't any easier when they were brought up.
That was the lesson, then, wasn't it?
"A-alright." he said, hesitiation in his voice.
Cruel. Siena couldn't deny that what she was doing was anything but cruel, but there was a small, bitter part of her that didn't seem to care. Worse, it pushed her forward, whispered that it was necessary if she wanted to protect herself. That if she didn't want a repeat of the situation, then she had to make them understand, or at least make them hurt.
But it was still cruel.
"Now imagine feeling most of them at the same time. For all those reasons." The Arbiter lowered her voice, as though it was the easiest way to keep it steady enough to be heard. She waited for a moment, to let Marcus attempt--or maybe he wouldn't, it didn't entirely matter--to do as she had asked. Waited a moment longer after, as though to convince herself that she could spit the rest of the words out. "I feel like that every time I use my power." Not entirely true. She'd discovered already that she could cut the time in return for stability, but when in the heat of the moment, when losing a name a fraction of a second too early could mean certain doom, Siena hadn't been able to justify it.
There was a moment of pause, clearly meant for him to try imagining the hellscape she'd laid before him. He wasn't going to do it, obviously - he'd already done it more times than he was comfortable with. Still, he sat there, following along intently as she spoke. A look of mild horror and slight concern crossed his face as she described the harsh price of her power, followed quickly by a slight hint of confusion.
"Wait...aren't you..." he said, his voice soft and cut off abruptly.
An arbiter?
That would have been the ending to that sentance if he'd let it finish. They were arbiters, they didn't have a price to pay for their powers; not as far as he was aware at least. Apparently, he wasn't aware of a whole lot.
"I'm...I'm sorry Siena. That's awful"
A parade of emotions flickered across Marcus's face, and Siena felt a small whisper of satisfaction spark to life then dim out in the sea. She could tell without having to dig what the rest of the question would have been. An Arbiter. A white mark. A subnatural that didn't pay to have an ability. He was right on two counts, at least. She glanced away.
"When I focus on something else, it's not." There was no real accusation, nothing that was meant to put up a guard, but she kept her gaze elsewhere. "But that only lasts as long as there's something for me to focus on."
"Ah." A sound of understanding. That was the part where he had goofed. "Your phone."
"Sort of. It...helps." Not just the phone. Doing things was what kept her moving forward, and she couldn't do much without her phone. Not the point, Siena. She refocused herself, stared at her phone. "Anything with words helps."
"And you didn't exactly have anything else in that barren wasteland of rubble, did you?" he added, putting together the pieces. "So that's what triggered..." He stopped himself for a second, trying to find a more...delicate way of phrasing things.
"So that's why you were upset when I took the battery. I get it."
Hesitation, then a quiet, hurt look. Siena took a quiet breath. She'd said it back at the building. It was exactly the last kick she needed.
"Part of it." Grey eyes lingered for a moment longer on the phone before finally turning to Marcus, this time settling instead of turning away. "I said it back at the building, and I..." Hesitation. She visibly braced herself, made herself seem like she was steeling herself before releasing a quiet sigh. "Not having a source when I'm out there, out anywhere, is like sending someone into a busy street with a blindfold."
A pause. Don't look away.
"So, no, I don't think you really get it."
The sudden shift in tone nearly made the hairs on the back of Marcus's neck stand up, and his body tensed slightly at the open hostility. Or at least, a statement Marcus interpreted as open hostility. Not to say he didn't deserve it after all - he had earned everything that was coming his way, and probably a fair bit more.
"Okay. So maybe I don't get it, exactly. But I'm sorry. I didn't realize that it would have that kind of effect, and...I was just worried you were going to hurt yourself. I made a bad call, and I apologize."
You chose to do this. You knew where it would lead.
She knew.
"You know, honestly, that probably won't be the last time that happens. I'll get better from a panic attack. I'll probably feel worse ones just using my power." Her gaze didn't falter, but didn't rise to look Marcus in the eye. Still couldn't help but want to keep her own eyes hidden because she couldn't fake the color. "But we had a job to do. You know what I'm capable of, you knew. Anything, as long as I had a source, and you really think you were worried I was going to hurt myself?" Whoa there, Harker. Down...dial it back a notch. "I didn't warn you about my issues, that's on me, but I..."
Frustrated, tired, still hurt.
"I figured you, of everyone there, would have known that I spent my entire life not being trusted to do anything on my own. I told you I had a plan, and you didn't trust that I did." She kept her gaze, couldn't let herself falter. Siena didn't have to say out loud how deep it cut, how much more than a simple betrayal it was if he had heard more than he claimed. "I could have helped someone else. That was what we were supposed to do." Too much emotion in the word, Siena scolded herself. That was too personal for her own shortcomings. Pull back. Taking a breath to calm herself, Siena allowed herself, at long last, to tear her gaze away before giving a resigned sigh.
"But you know what? Maybe you were right. I guess I can't be trusted." One more push. "Haven't made myself useful enough to be yet."
Marcus winced slightly, as if the words had lashed themselves across his back as they came out of Siena's mouth. It wasn't that he didn't trust her...it was that...well, maybe it was that he didn't trust her. He didn't trust her to not get herself killed by accident, or even on purpose. That was the whole crux of the issue.
"Siena..." Marcus started, his voice almost pleading as he tried to worm out an explanation. "...you had said it yourself, you were fine with hurting yourself, you lost the teleporter faster than you thought you would, it's just one more subnatural that happened to die in the process. Nobody would care.'"
He tried to give her a stern look in his counter-argument, but he caught her eyes and immediately dropped his own.
You knew where it would lead.
guiltblameregrethurtbreakcry
"None of those statements were wrong." And they were true, unlike most of what Siena presented, but she kept that silent. "I'm not afraid of getting hurt, I'm fine with hurting myself." Beause pain grounded her when it was physical. Took her away from the blended mess of everyone and everything else. She didn't let those words come. They weren't necessary. "And I would have been just one more subnatural. Nobody would miss me, nobody would care. That's just what happens when you're a subnatural."
Well, someone might have cared enough to celebrate, but that was beside the point.
"If I make a bad call and get myself hurt, then it's just me. A subnatural that happens to be cuffed and at work, nothing out of the usual." A pause. "But when you make a bad call, Marcus, when you end up hurting your teammates, or when you get regulars hurt or killed, that's a different story. You don't get to stand for just yourself anymore, you lost that privilege when you became Time Scar." When you became our face. Again, she told herself to step back from the mounting emotions. Calm down, little Harker. "And it sucks, but unless someone else can step in and fill that spot, you're the one that has to know who's a better sacrifice: a subnatural that can and has hurt people, or a family of four in a crumbling building."
A pause as she glanced away, the fire in her chest dimming, a light of remorse and guilt cutting through her moment of bravery.
"Even if that means you don't get to feel human anymore."
He stayed silent. Let the words crash over him like waves of boiling water. Already his mind was whirring in defense, trying to think of something to aid him in this battle of wits.
He might have chuckled there, at that thought. Arguing with Siena certainly felt like a battle. A battle that he was losing, if the way he felt was any indication. Still, he opened his mouth again to defend himself, despite the tidal wave of backlash and remorse he knew that would bring crashing down on his head.
"First of all..." he started quietly, clearing his throat and starting again, a little more forceful this time. "First of all, none of us are just subnaturals. We're classmates. Teammates. Most of us are friends." those words came out of his mouth like a jagged edge. He wasn't sure where he sat on Siena's friendship scale anymore, but he tried to think the best.
"And yes. I'm Time Scar. The face of the operation. Apparently. I have to keep everyone's best interests at heart. And I know who the better sacrifice is, between a subnatural or a random family of four regulars."
His voice was slightly more firm now. Not shouting, but resolute in his speech.
"And yes, that makes me feel like less of a human."
He paused again, swallowing his fervor and returning to his calmer voice.
"I made a bad call. I never said I made the wrong call."
'There, that's what you needed. That's enough,' thought the voice that knew it was for the better. It was the one that drove her forward--plenty of monsters can play at being human--when she knew how the road would end. But Siena knew better than to let show that she'd gotten what she wanted from the exchange.
Wouldn't father be proud? How easily she could turn someone in her hands?
Classmates. Teammates. Friends. Somehow she didn't feel like the words sank in like they were supposed to.
That is what he would have been proud of.
She steeled herself internally, knew where this road would lead. Knew that she probably wouldn't be able to regain what she was sacrificing, but that was...that was fine.
"You're free to hold that belief." Her voice was quiet. Too quiet. Where are you now? "And maybe you're right. We are classmates, we are teammates, but we are still subnaturals." Would she regret it? Undoubtedly. "So you can tell yourself that we aren't just subnaturals. That's fine. You can believe whatever call you want as the right one. I can't stop you from thinking that. Hell, I would love to believe that too."
Stronger. You can't back down right now.
"But the next time you have to choose between me and a regular, you choose the regular." It wasn't a request. She willed herself to make it more than that. "At least then, it's a choice between a monster and a person." It hurt to say out loud, but Siena covered the pain. She'd have plenty of time to regret it later, when it was too late to change anything. A pause.
"Right now, you're just an operation face, but if what we've been doing becomes what we will be doing, you..." Hesitation. A soft breath, a quiet, resigned sigh. "You won't be Marcus, the subnatural or Time Scar, the poster child. You'll be a movement more than a man, and what choices you make won't just be for a team." A fate worse than that of a monster's, but Siena didn't voice that opinion. "So if a sacrifice needs to be made, at least you can pick the one that won't fit with the rest of that movement."
Siena...I..."
Another long pause. He knew what he wanted to say, but he had no way of saying that would paint him as the good person in this situation. Why was he even hesitating? He'd shown that he was more than willing to be the bad guy, especially when it had proven to be more effective than asking nicely. Where kind words and relief efforts had failed, a gunshot and an armored semi-truck had prevailed. Those had been his choices.
"Do you wonder why Zhang keeps people like Sander around?" he finally asked, not waiting for a reply. "If you're asking me to make choices with zero emotional attachments, to destroy a monster in favor of a person...a monster who is trying their damnedest to help. I'm still going to choose the monster."
"DC has taught us that monsters are stronger than men. USARILN has taught us that when a piece doesn't fit, you use it in a different puzzle. So no; I can't make that promise."
"Then you are severely underestimating the type of monster I can be." A hollow feeling that wrenched at her, tore at something she thought she could remove more easily. "And for what little it's worth, I am grateful that you are still human enough to hold those beliefs." At least close enough to human. Plenty of humans are monstrous. "But I'm not looking for a promise. I'm not making a request." She watched him now, tired, but still standing. "I am telling you to make that sacrifice if the need comes, because if you won't, then I assure you, I will make sure that someone else will, and I'm certain that the world won't think twice about accepting it as a small price to pay."
Silence again. A weary resignation that seemed to cross Marcus's face, and then transform into some other amalgamation of emotions. Anger? Sadness? Displeasure? They all seemed to cycle at least once, before Marcus finally spoke.
"Let's hope that the need never presents itself then, shall we?"
You knew where this would lead.
But it was so hard to make a friend, Siena couldn't help but feel pain for forcing herself to lose one.
"...hopefully we do enough good that this conversation will have been pointless." And for a moment, Siena felt how tired she really was. Felt it press down on her shoulders, cut across her features. This was the choice she made...wasn't it? A sacrifice that she had decided to make, and not some desperate child trying to live up to being a Santana.
While Angélique had finally found herself a purpose to continue fighting and promise to become someone better, the young woman still felt to be somewhat mourning. Even though Allison had confessed her undying love for Angel, her words had stricken the raven-haired Aberration deeply. She found herself hurt, not only for not being trusted anymore from her love, but also because she caused so much grief for the brunette. The fallen idol never knew the extend of Allison’s past tragedies, and the fact that she may have caused to reopen these old wounds pained Angel. Just how many of her classmates actually felt that way after the whole incident? Yesterday, Angélique tried to find meaning to her confrontation with Brent and Ernest, and to Allison’s love, as she took the car and went for a ride. It did some good, being alone and thinking without fearing of having someone come and blow at her. As a matter of fact, she used that same moment to blow some steam herself.
Today, Angélique was planning to do the same. She wanted to get away from here and take some more time to think about herself, what she did, what she should be doing, what to make of everything that happened and should be happening in the future. After having prepared everything she needed for her next road trip, the black-haired young woman went to fetch the car keys inside the estate before she happened onto a very pitiful-looking Siena, stumbling around in the estate.
She looked terrible, and so did Angélique felt that way when she took a long look at her brunette classmate. She didn’t know if the girl just cried her life out or if she simply didn’t know the meaning of sleep, but Angel felt a bit responsible for what was happening to Siena. While Siena was the one who dropped the cars onto these people, they wouldn’t have been there in the first place if Siren hadn’t pushed these innocents right under the floating cars with a devastating scream. At first, angélique thought Siena had willingly done so to protect herself, but as time went on, the more Angel started believing into her own excuses she gave to the others, thinking it was solely her fault for having murdered these people.
“Siena… are… you okay? Do you need to talk?” Angel tentatively asked the Arbiter. Of course she wasn’t well, the Aberration could see that. She was more interested to know if there was anything she could do for her.
It had been a difficult night.
Between guilt over what had happened, the conversation with her father, the ensuing conversation with Marcus, and a harsh spiral of anxiety, hurt, and pain, Siena hadn't been able to sleep. For once, it wasn't the nightmares keeping her up--or perhaps it was just that the nightmares weren't the only things keeping her from rest. She'd tried to fill the time at first, tried her best to distract herself, but eventually, the brunette had no choice but to do what she'd been avoiding. Had he done it on purpose? The Arbiter didn't expect an answer. Not soon, if it ever came. It was a harsh realization that cut her like a serrated blade.
For the second time in almost as many days, Siena Santana had been forced to remember that she was still clinging to humanity enough to cry when hurt.
Did I eat last night...?
Anything to distract herself from the phone nestled in her pocket and the rare friendship that she'd decided wasn't worth as much as action. Wouldn't he be proud? The mage kept walking, kept willing herself to move so she couldn't sit and think like she always did. Ironic, isn't it? That you wish you were more Santana than Siena right now? No more thinking. She repeated the mantra to herself almost fervently, to drown out any other voice that tried to rise, and it worked. Unfortunately, it also meant that it had almost drowned out Angel's voice. Muted, distant, and quiet, but enough to stop the mental chant in an instant.
The sudden silence in her head was terrifying.
"H-Huh...?" A weary blink. What had Angel just said? The brunette tried to recall, tried to make out the words that had come to her as little more than a garbled question. No. There was no way she could make out what had been asked. "Sorry, I must not have been paying attention. Could you repeat that?"
Angélique forced herself a reassuring smile, quite half-assed given she had her own demons to deal with too. Siena looked so bothered, perhaps it was not the time to disturb her. And yet…
“Oh sorry, I must’ve been muttering.” A lie to try and cover up for her initial blunder, but it was convenient that she didn’t hear. “I was saying that you looked bored as hell. How about we get ourselves some fresh air outside? And by that, I mean take one of the cars and go about for some scenery driving. How does that sound?”
Angel had tried to look just about as enthusiastic and reassuring as she could manage her low morale to put on. Truth be told, she wanted to be left alone today, but seeing Siena like that, she sort of felt much obliged to try and at least help a friend who looked so demoralized.
No, it couldnt' have been a mutter, but Siena recognized the attempt of a smile. Can you fix this? Did she even want to? The brunette gave a weak smile and wondered whether she could even pass off a mask when her eyes were still sore, when her entire body felt weary and she could barely keep her thoughts from consuming her entirely. It would be a good distraction, Siena told herself. Going out, leaving, far away from the estate and the memories it evoked and the relationships she was certain she had trampled.
"That...sounds good." Even if it was just a moment's reprieve. "I don't think I've gone on a scenic drive in longer than I can remember." It wasn't a lie if she couldn't remember a scenic drive, was it? Her car rides were generally done in spacious vehicles with windows that barely allowed her to look out, only to places that had been carefully selected, on routes that were decidedly empty.
"Cool! C’mon then, I was just about to leave. Unless you need a bit of time to prepare yourself?”
"Oh! I-I'm ready to go anytime."
Alright then. Let’s get going.
Angel led Siena to the garage, her stuff already packed and ready to leave. Angélique didn’t know herself how long they would be gone today, but her stuff had been packed on the backseat as if she was leaving for the entire day.
After entering the car and making sure both their seatbelts were buckled and the car was functional, the two girls left the estate towards the forest trail and onto the island’s main road. It already felt good, to be away from the mansion. There was just this uneasy atmosphere over there that only made the raven-haired Aberration to leave and return for as late as possible.
When the road became clear ahead and it was only a straight line to wherever they were heading, Angel used the opportunity to slightly her window, feeling the ocean breeze washing in the car as she gazed upon the coastal scene slowly unfurl all around them. The silence felt a bit dreadful inside however. Both were clearly uncomfortable around each other.
“So… have you ever driven a car before, Siena?” Angel asked out of the blue, her shades-veiled gaze focused on the road, but her mind half-focused on her passenger.
It might have been a wise idea to have brought some things, Siena realized, as she glanced at what Angel had prepared on her own. The thought was what she clung to for a distraction to push everything else aside. It filled her head, musing what might have been a better idea, what she wouldn't have brought to begin with. That, combined with the breeze brushing off the ocean, the smell of saltwater and a new view, was enough to push almost everything else into a quiet, dull buzz.
And another distraction pulled her in. The Arbiter glanced at the driver, her mind reeling.
"Oh, um...actually, no," Siena started. Best not to say anything that might lead to unwarranted expectations as far as that was concerned. The brunette gave a nervous smile, one tinged with a faint amount of embarrassment. "I never really had to before."
"Really? Girl, you are missing out on something." Angel grinned, remembering what it felt like to have her parents driver her around. It felt frustratring, perhaps a bit shameful too. “The freedom to go as far as you want, whenever you want, without having to call on someone for it. That’s what I like most about driving and owning my own car.”
Angel paused as she smoothly brought about a slight turn to the right “Ever felt like driving on your own before though?”
Through the haze of her exhaustion and the slurry of thoughts, Siena was able to make sense of the words. It pierced through like sharp beams of light, cutting through like hot butter. Freedom to go as far as she wanted, whenever she wanted. She doesn't know. It was a dream she had once had countless times before she'd had her abilities and even more times after. Flying away, teleporting away, leaving the gilded cage. A sweet dream that she had only a brief taste of before it was cruelly crushed. Time and time again.
But she couldn't show that, so she smiled.
"I wanted to, but I never had a chance. Apparently it was too dangerous or something."
"Too dangerous, huh? Well, there sure are idiots on the road every now and then, but an extra vigilant eye can allow you to avoid all that.” Angélique replied, speaking as if she had a few of those mishaps that happened to her personally.
Sounded like her caretakers protected Siena a bit too much. The dark-haired driver couldn’t fathom having herself be caught into what was better for her own safety. It felt too restrictive, too imprisoned.
The car steadily slowed down but kept a minimum amount of speed to keep going on the road. Angel looked at Siena with a mischievous grin. Now that the brunette was somehow ‘free’, why not take advantage of that?
“Want to take the wheel? Might as well take this chance now that you have no one to hold you back.” Angélique asked with a chuckle.
Idiots on the road...well, she supposed that was one way of viewing the danger. Siena knew better than to think that it was the main reason that she'd never learned to drive. They had looked at her with pitying expressions that lasted less than a fraction of a second, but she'd learned how to see those flashes by then. Still, Siena nodded in agreement as the car slowed, glancing over at Angel just in time to see the mischief on the older girl's face.
"U-Um, but I don't know the first thing about driving..." Even if every part of her wanted to do it. One moment behind the wheel, some kind of mock freedom that might be a substitute for the real thing. Her gaze drifted to the wheel, then to the open road, and she felt longing spring to life in her gut. "I'm not sure that'd be the safest idea..."
While Angel could not read that spark hidden underneath the mask Siena usually wears, she could hear the words that just called to the driver as ‘It’s not safe, but I’m dying to try.’ Maybe it was something that the young woman just wanted to hear, but she’ll be damned if it didn’t happen.
“Good thing you’ll have the safest driver in Canada to show you the ropes then!” Angel managed to let out a quiet laugh at her exaggeration.
The car slowed down significantly, pulling up to the side as it came to a full stop. “Now’s the best time to learn, Siena. I mean, we’ve got the whole road to ourselves. Trust me, I know. Haven’t seen a single soul on these roads ever since we arrived.” Angel turned off the engine and then opened her door.
“Plus, what’s the worst that could happen? Drive over a pothole? C’mon, let’s switch places!” the enthusiastic black-haired musician remarked as she left the car, heading over Siena’s side.
"O-Oh, um..." Well, there were worse things that could happen, given Siena's complete lack of experience, but if Angel was right about the lack of people, then maybe, just for a bit, it would be fine. The thirst for knowledge ached like a hollow pain in her torso, and Siena couldn't help but relent. "A-Alright..."
Stepping out to make the switch herself, the brunette glanced at the controls, wondered briefly whether it would have been wiser to have a name drawn in case she needed it. Are you sure about that, little Harker? The girl decided against it. There was no point in learning if she didn't walk away with the experience in the end. That said... "Um...s-so what do I do now...?"
"Oh right. First, take the ignition key and bring it all the way forward for a second until you hear the engine start. If you just bring it slightly forward, it'll only open up the electric supply for the car."
Then Angel proceded to explain the girl about the three pedals underneath her, one being the acceleration, the middle one being the brakes, the the far left being the clutch. After making sure the girl understood the principles of the pedals, she explained her how to make sure she was set and comfortable for driving. From bringing her seat forward so her feet could touch the pedals easily to the rearview mirrors properly showing the unseen angles. When the basics were over with, all that was left to do was to show her the actual driving part.
"Just put slight pressure on the gas pedal. We'll start slowly, then I'll show you about the gear shift."
The explanations had been clear, but hearing something, imagining something, and actually doing it were vastly differing experiences, as Siena had learned. How slight was slight pressure? Her mind tried to quantify it, couldn't quite do it, and the faint pressure she put on the pedal did little to start the car from moving. Realizing that she'd vastly underestimated slight, Siena tried to increase the pressure.
The second time was too much. The car lurched forward with a sudden jerk. Siena recoiled her foot off the pedal entirely in surprise.
"Wh-whoa, s-sorry!" Wearing an embarrassed grimace, the girl wondered if this really was the wisest choice. So something between force A and force B--gods, she hoped that judging that pressure would get easier.
Holy shit!
Luckily, Angel had her seatbelt one, or else she felt like she was going to get an accident real soon with the girl on board. the older woman let out a deep sigh out. "God... that took me by surprise. Yeah, no worry, beginner's mistake. It's hard to gauge pressure when you're new at this. You'll see later when you'll have to maintain a steady speed. It's easy to lose your footing and accidentally end speeding up gradually faster without even noticing."
"Try again. Smooth, but don't put your weight all at once. Do it gradually." It took some time and a few tries before Siena managed to get the hang of the steering, some extra time going into learning the few extra steps for the--what was it? The Hellcat?--current vehicle compared to more common ones. Eventually, going down the road was smoother, her speed not quite consistent, but at least the car didn't jerk as it had at the start. The brunette felt herself more at ease with the road empty and lacking in any major turns.
She tried to piece together the start of a conversation, but her mind kept cycling back to the events of DC, then to the last attempt to talk about said events. Her back ached at the memory, a faint sense of relief at wearing more cover to hide the fact that she hadn't succeeded in clearing off every bruise from the tapestry of her skin. That would have been difficult to explain.
"Um..." Think of something. Anything. "Y-you know, I don't think I've ever seen you without sunglasses."
Throughout Siena's drive, Angélique had kept a close watch on her learning pupil. It was getting smoother, much to the joy and relief of the Aberration. She had been giving her advices when she noticed a wrong move or a mistake, but it was done in the friendliest tips. She wasn't there to be a tyrant and a harsh teacher. Though it was clear that Angel was very concerned when it came to safety while driving.
A moment of silence passed by quickly as Angel was less focused on discussing and more on watching the road ahead. Usually she'd talk a lot while being a passenger, but she felt somewhat dutiful and on guard. When Siena's question came, it came a bit out ass a surprise to the black-haired woman.
"Oh? Yeah, I really never told anyone about this, I guess. I have sight problems. A rare case of myopia and photophobia combined. Or short-sightedness and light sensitivity, if you will." Angel explained, looking a little bit dismayed. "Old optometrist gave me a special pair of shades that would correct both problems at once, since I hate contacts, but then you'd figure with everything happening to us, they broke down quite easily. So I consulted the eye doctor at the Institute, he convinced me to wear contacts so at least I won't see blurry if my sunglasses ever broke again. As for the shades, well they are mostly there to keep my eyes from burning in pain."
Trying to make light of her situation, Angélique flashed a grin at Siena as to dismiss it as a slight inconvenience "But those do make me look damn good, no?"
Ah...the possibility of light sensitivity had lingered somewhere in the back of Siena's mind, but it had never been more than a passing thought. Keeping her eyes on the road, the Arbiter gave a small nod of understanding at the explanation, accepting it as it was.
"They certainly match your aesthetic," the Arbiter started. Not a lie. "Though...it seems a little dangerous to have them in our situation. Maybe USARILN can get you something sturdier when we're out."
Angel looked thoughtful for a moment. She did indeed consider the possibility of asking for something sturdier, seeing that there was no point to wearing shades if they kept breaking. "You're right. I was thinking that as well, seeing there probably wasn't a single battle I managed to get out from with them intact." A small pause of discomfort as she was brought back to Washington, if only briefly. "Perhaps I should ask if they can come up with transition contacts. Hell might as well give me a welding mask while we're at it." she forced a chuckle out. "If we ever return to the Institute... It's been a while, isn't it?"
A long pause as Siena considered the end of the sentence.
"...it has." Two words that were just a bit weary despite how exceedingly worn Siena really felt. "I really thought we'd be spending more time at the school when we showed up there..."
"Yeah, but then again..." Angélique paused, thinking back about her talk with Ernest, as much as it pained her to do so. "Apparently we are a special case of students. Shouldn't be much surprised by these developments."
Angélique contemplated the road ahead, her worries over Siena's driving slowly dissipating as her thoughts focused on a not-so distant past. "Do you miss it, Siena?"
A pause.
"A little bit, yeah." Grateful for the fact that she had to focus on the road, Siena wondered why they were such a special case. Why they were being sent out instead of students more experienced. Being sent out was not what she had envisioned when she had surrendered herself. She expected a place where she couldn't hurt anyone with her abilities, not somewhere that would send her to where she could hurt more people. "Even if it's not quite what I thought it woud be."
"I don't think anyone here could've expected what our lives are going to be like at USARILN. Even less being part of some sort of special battle unit."
"No, I suppose not." And she certainly hadn't expected being a special battle unit to be an option to begin with--maybe Gerwulf had been right. Preparations had probably been what kept her alive. Just in case. Memories of a slow step by step guide on how to make her small frame more effective in a fight--it dawned on her then that said movements would only ever work on things that looked like humans. She pushed the thought out of mind. Pushed Gerwulf as far away from her as she could. "Don't think I ever saw myself using powers for combat."
Never thought I'd use my powers to kill a crowd again...
Angel only nodded solemnly to Siena's statement. There sure was a lot of shit she hadn't been expecting to happen. So much near deaths, battles, fellow classmates dying, even more deaths. Really, ever since Angel was taken in by USARILN, she turned into such a wreck. She could barely recognize herself in the mirror, even herself as a whole when comparing to just a few months ago.
Her mind was sent adrift onto the road once more, keeping silent as she reflected on the events that happened as a 'student' of this Subnatural institute.
No reply, just a silence that Siena could only take wild stabs at reading when she couldn't turn to look at the expression. She didn't entirely enjoy not being able to observe, and Siena realized then why Maya had been adamantly against Siena's learning to drive. Watching the road meant not being able to watch the people aroud her--etiquette and appearances aside, it wasn't something that any Santana should have done.
She didn't want to think about it.
"I think the only expectation I had was that I'd be seeing more subnaturals though." More people too, but she didn't quite want to group the two categories together. "Don't think I'll ever get used to it."
"Yeah... but that's our reality now. Might as well try to get used the people we will be with for as long as we remain under USARILN's watch."
'You say that so lightly.'
Unwelcome thoughts of her conversation with Marcus the night before, thoughts of being honest and bruises scattered across her like a painting. Getting used to the people that they'd be around while under careful watch wasn't something that Siena would have been able to do lightly.
Still, she gave a distant smile and a small nod.
"I'll have to work on it."
"So do I... So do I..." Angélique muttered to herself aloud, looking at the scenery passing by them quickly.
There was a moment of unease seetling in. Uncomfortable silence.
"Siena... I have something to tell you," Angel's tone took on a graver note. "I'm... sorry for what happened a few days ago. I though of protecting everyone... but I made a stupid decision... and it ended up like this."
The words struck like a heavy bag of bricks, and if Siena hadn't been prepared for the possibility, if she hadn't tightened her grip slightly on the wheel, tensed herself at the thought, things might have gone badly. At least there was some semblance of control in place. The brunette made certain to keep her foot at the most constant pressure she could muster. Not Harker, Santana.
"Everyone made mistakes." And Siena could feel her own piling down harder each day. "I don't think I'm the one that needs an apology." Because she didn't. Her mistakes had been countless. So many things that could have gone differently--they'd picked the wrong people to protect.
"Perhaps... but then again, if I hadn't screamed first, if I had tried to find a more peaceful solution, maybe ask you guys to shift your priorities to personnal defense until it dies down... we probably wouldn't have had to defend ourselves from them like that."
She was remorseful for everything that had sparked for one single scream. A scream that seemed to have carried more impact and destroyed everything than her repetitive message sent to save to civilians had.
"They probably would've never attacked us if I didn't start. That's... why I feel like I should apologize to everyone. Our lives are so difficult to deal with... I just piled up more problems on our shoulders. I'm... sorry for that."
Did she think apologizing and taking the blame would have fixed anything? Siena wondered, briefly, if that was how most people felt. Apologize a thousand times to the wrong person for the wrong reasons, and the forgiveness would be enough?
Screams. People had been under the cars when they fell.
Apologies for the wrong thing.
"Maybe it's not my place to say this," Siena started, knowing that it wasn't. "But will getting forgiveness from me really fix anything for you?"
"No. If you think I'm looking for forgiveness, you're wong. No mtter how much I regret it, that I feel sorry for the people who died and for their families, and for what you guys had to go through during that moment, it still has been and will be a horrible choice. I can't blame anyone for hating me after what I did. Hell, the whole world could hate me for that, if they actually knew instead of those fake-ass news proclaiming me as some sort of fucking "redeeming criminal" crap. I deserve to be hated. I don't deserve forgiveness or love."
Yet you still cling to it oh so deperately
Angélique's sorrowful tone seemed to have turned into one of intensified self-hatred and disgust. It was very clear that she blamed herself solely for what happened, and obviously felt terrible for having involved everyone in her mess.
"But I still feel the need to apologize to you, because I fucked everyone up over and I want you to know I didn't mean to. That won't bring anyone back, but I guess I just want people to know that I'm not a cold-hearted bitch who doesn't regret her decisions. I do, but I can't do anything but make sure it won't happen a second time.
It was strangely easier to talk about her feelings to Siena than everyone else so far. Perhaps it was because Siena was the actual first person she spoke of it that was on her team back then. Ernest, Brent, Allison... they couldn't know how it was. They haven't been there, and it's not like neither of them had to power to outright kill someone if they lost control or had a Stigma like hers to deal with.
It seemed so...contradictory, and something in the pit of Siena's stomach flared to life. A weak, quiet flicker that didn't have enough strength to become a blaze. Didn't want to be a redeeming criminal, didn't care if the world hated her--if that was true, then why bother apologizing? Why apologize to peers that might look for any reason to forgive if she deserved to be hated? The brunette felt her grip tighten on the wheel, and wondered if it was a good thing that there was nothing left in her to burn.
"I suppose that's reason enough to find an apology." Even if Siena couldn't take much heart in it. Her focus remained on the road, attention on the fact that she was driving to keep her distracted. "But in that case, you're not the only one that needs to apologize."
There was a sligh sense of relief washing over Angel when Siena seemed to have confirmed her will to apologize. She didn't need forgiveness, but she still wanted to be on good terms with anyone. But there was guilt rearing its ugly head for every bit of relief she had. Moreso when Siena said that. "I... don't... think..." she had no idea what to say. She knew she was in the wrong, but a lot of people on her team were just as responsible for actually delivering the killing blows. Angel never wanted to admit it to herself though. They wouldn't have to do this if she didn't start the fight.
"You don't think what?" The words were oddly calm. "Maybe the scream started everything, but everyone made their choices. Whether someone opened fire or held it, that was their decision. By that reasoning, we all brought ruin on ourselves." Her grip tightened around the wheel, knuckles starting to show white. "Regardless of whether opening fire was intentional, we have ourselves to blame."
Angélique looked a bit defeated by the statement. True, they probably could've used another mean to protect themselves, something less lethal. Lilianna could've probably tried harder to remain in control. But then again...
"Maybe... but you wouldn't have had to make that choice if it didn't happened." Angel repeated, remaining convinced that she was to blame foremost for the mishaps of her team. Their failure was her failure.
"But it did, and it's too easy to blame it all on one person. We were supposed to help them, and we didn't." Even if she didn't know what might have changed without the shout. Even if someone tried to shift the blame for the people that Siena herself had killed, she hadn't done anything to stop the situation from getting worse. Hadn't done anything, despite having everything at her disposal, to stop her peers. Nobody had. "It's too easy to blame someone else for our own bad decisions. If nobody blames themselves, then nobody will learn, and it will happen again."
"You're right, but..." Angélique paused, finding great difficulty to admit the way she felt about the situation. "I've always thought that even if we were all to blame... it just would be easier if the hate was directed into me. You know, focus all that hate into a single person, instead of a whole group. I'd rather see myself being insulted, punched and kicked than have all of us being treated this way."
"They've heard what happened from the cuffs. They think I've been the one who killed almost everyone. I don't want you, Lily or Kusari to be treated the same way I had been ever since I came back..."
A pause. They hadn't been there that long. More than that, their company was little more than their peers. The brunette flicked a glance toward the older girl before returning her attention to the road.
"You say that as though it's literal." Carefully chosen words. "Something happened?"
"Nothing I'm not used to.
Not a complete lie, considering her whole life she had to deal with criticism about the way her music sounded or how she was dressed, but never insulted with such intensity.
It didn't take an expert to hear something to piece together the partial answer. Nothing she wasn't used to--something vague, but still complete enough to neatly sweep away the refuse where it couldn't be seen. Of course Siena would have recognized it, given how often she did it herself when the truth wasn't welcome, but it was easier not to lie. Part of her wanted to press further, but there was no kindling left. Nothing for the embers to reignite.
"I see." Two words that were easy to say. A neat little phrase that could say everything or nothing. Her mind wandered back a night, how she had told Marcus that he stood for more than what he was. How it was true for all of them if she thought about it. How frustrating it was that Angel didn't seem to understand it despite her apparent past on the stage, and how little Siena understood why. She had no choice but to silence them all, put everything into another neat litle phrase. "I suppose that makes sense."
Angélique nodded only slightly, her gaze still not leaving the road ahead. Her driving friend's short answers seemed a bit hollow, but Angel didn't want to prod it further. She's had enough of poking beasts these past few days. She wasn't willing to continue this painful conversation by adding more than what had already been said. Whether Siena fully understood what Angel was trying to say, she could only hope the brunette Arbiter did. And so she remained uncomfortably silent, her thoughts trying to focus into Siena's driving rather than her inner turmoil. The rest of the car drive went rather well. To dispel the growing unease that had started to settle in with their talk, the two managed to find every bits of small talk to discuss about. Sometimes Angel would give some more tips or continue counselling her driving student, sometimes Siena would ask for confirmation on her thoughts about driving and some more questions to better her driving techniques. After a hour or two, Angélique decided to have Siena drive the both of them back to the estate, figuring that they should be back for lunch time and siena should take a rest, visibly tired now.
Back into the garage, when both left the car, Angel remained next to the vehicle, waving to yet another newly-made pupil. Funny how she was teaching a lot of her fellow classmates about some things. "You did good today, Siena. You've got a knack for driving. Maybe I should ask you more often to drive me around." the raven-haired metalhead chuckled as she opened the door to the driver's seat.
"Take good care of yourself now." Angel said to the brunette before driving off the garage, this time going for a ride alone.
Chris had started to walk down the hallway of the estate with a hint of nervousness. He was dressed in his prefered casual wear of his heavy blue coat, white shirt, and dark blue jeans. Though the warm clothing didn't seem ideal for the present climate, Chris preffered the additional heat his clothes gave him. Today was the day he'd talk to Siena again, in person. Thanks to Brent and Ernie's little 'chat' he no longer feared that Siena was ignoring his letter as it was revealed Brent had done away with it, the bastard.
Still, that resolve didn't hide his faint dread. It was already painfully obvious he has terrible people skills, let alone good at keeping friends around; But after the events of D.C. he was worried the stress might make his coming situation worse. Though, he still worried of her well-being, and because he never got to visit her in the hospital bed he felt obligated to visit her now.
There was a pause when he reached Siena door. He had picked out some crummy flower from the yard earlier today to present to her, though the dandelion he held in his hand is more considered a weed then a flowering plant. After a sigh that established his final decision, he gave three knocks to her door.
She hadn't slept, grey irises seeming almost dull in the wake of pink-tinged sclera. Siena watched her phone with said bloodshot eyes, as if expecting it to go off again--no, she knew it would eventually. Something that felt dimly like pain in the back of her head alerted Siena to the fact that she had probably been up for too long. A twinge of faint irritation at herself for pointing out the obvious that was harder to quell than it should have been. The mage gave a soft breath, closing her eyes against the light.
'Temper, temper, Siena.'
Shut up.
'You already knew, why are you even surprised that--'
Shut. Up.
The girl felt her fingers dig into her skin, nails scraping against the surface hard enough to make parts of it peel, pale flesh flaring pink at the irritation, and though the rational part of her chided her. Stop before you hurt yourself. But wasn't it the pain that grounded her? That reminded her that she was still her and not some visitor in her body? Her nails dug deeper, leaving crescent shaped depressions. She wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean it didn't leave a deep cut. Rat bastard.'You don't mean that.' No, she didn't, but there wasn't a fiber in her body that didn't wish that she did.
The thoughts were loud enough that she almost didn't hear the sound of the knock at her door. For a long moment, the brunette considered ignoring it to let herself stew in the frustrations she wouldn't be able to express with anyone else around. Her mind went back to the night before, and a sardonic smile wormed its way to her lips. Well, she'd certainly managed to express them then hadn't she?
By the time the mage answered her door, she'd already placed the demure, quiet mask of a girl in over her head back into place. Nobody would believe it anymore, but it was easier than trying to go out with the storm that threatened to break free completely unleashed. She cracked the door open to see her visitor, prepared to shut it again if necessary, but found Chris at the entrance, sporting a heavy coat despite the weather and something that was probably a flower in hand--it was harder to tell when all she could see from her vantage point was a trail of green.
'Don't you want to shut the door?' Mocked the snide little voice in her head. Siena pushed the thought as far as she could before cautiously opening the door, only a faint level of confusion showing on her face. Exactly what she allowed. "O-Oh, Chris. Did you need something...?"
"O-oh um..." He paused for a moment. Whatever confidence he had worn today was starting to wear now he was infront of Siena for the first time in a little while. "A-are you busy or something? I-I could come back some other time if its too much trouble for you right now." He started to avoid eye contact to try to mask his dissolving confidence; His head had turned to the hallway and he adjusted the hood of his coat further up his head as if that could hide him from her.
'Even someone that can turn into a dragon won't look you in the eye.'
Stop it.
"N-No, I'm not really busy with anything." True. Sort of. "I probably don't look too great right now though."
There was a sigh to her responsive, mostly of relief. At this point his anxiety was starting to die down a bit in favor of a more apathetic 'just get this over with' motivation, still lacking much optimism. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me today, around the property or something....Maybe do something cool if we come across anything." He returned his gaze back to her.
Something about it was off, and Siena wished for a moment that she couldn't read faces. Couldn't force herself to dig and feel the way that she wanted after countless hours of being taught exactly how to do it because she could barely deal with her own emotional turmoil, and it was too damn hard to ignore someone else's when it was a perfect distraction from what she didn't want to face. The brunette gave a weak smile. Something was wrong.
An uncomfortable memory tried to surface, and Siena drowned it with any other emotion that was able to overpower the unease.
"That...that sounds nice." Not really. "Um...let me get my jacket before we go. Just in case."
Your room is a mess. Don't let him in.
"I'll be right back."
He nodded and stepped away from the door and to the wall to avoid being rude. While he had been leaning against the wall, and looking down the hallway, he felt reliefed. Here he was expecting outright rejection but everything seemed fine for now at least, though admittedly she did seem a tad bit distraught.
Once she accompanied him past the hallway and later outside the manor, Chris broke the silence. "So, how are you holding up? I don't know all the details that happened to everyone but I know we've all been through some shit in that D.C. event..." He interrupted himself. "I-I don't mean that be rude, you don't have to tell me-I'm just...concerned is all..I feel bad for not visiting you when you were hospitalized..."
Fresh air was good for her, or so Siena kept telling herself as she walked with Chris. Her mind was still reeling, still full of unwelcome thoughts, memories, emotions she didn't want to feel. A surge of something that might have been relief rose as soon as Chris broke the silence, only to be replaced by an avalanche of conflicting emotions. Guilt, pain, betrayal, back to guilt again. A simmering rage that burned faintly beneath the surface that Siena kept trying to detach and couldn't. She didn't voice anything, didn't let her emotions get in the way as she painted on the weary mask.
"You don't have to worry about me." Because she didn't count. "I wasn't really that hurt at the hospital." Just a coward that couldn't leave. An echo of panic fired through her like a sharp jolt of electricity. "I can't say that everything is fine, but...I'll figure out how to cope." Or else.
There was a short pause before Chris put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't like being brash or anything but considering what happened..I..well..Just want to let you know that no matter what happens out there I will always stay at your side" There was another self-interruption. "Unless if you don't want me too..I don't want to force anything on you."
Don't touch.
Siena forced herself not to flinch at the hand on her shoulder, forced herself to stay calm when fear threatened to bubble up, refining her reaction to little more than a faint tense that passed through her before she could fully register it. The brunette paused to glance at the boy, and again the unsettling sensation crept over her like a slow burning fire. Back to the training day, when there was something that lingered beyond the primitive instinct. That faint, faint feeling that had mortified her. Always at her side.
Bullshit.
"That's a bold offer for someone you've only known a few weeks."
"I'm aware." He paused to look at the ground, and had removed his hand from her. "I guess all this stress makes it hard to think straight...That and.." There was a longer pause. He didn't finish his sentence, he just looked towards the trees at his left, a long stare. In that moment Chris thought he saw the wooden fort he and his hometown friends would play around, the day before that joy was taken from him; he even imagined his younger self sitting infront of the fort, starting back at him with cold and distant eyes as if the child was staring at a monster.
He shook his head and attempted to finish his train of thought. "No its nothing.."
So that was it. Stress. A pang of something in between relief and hurt shot through Siena's chest, but it smoothed into the mask before it could properly form into anything on the exterior. This was what she was good at, pretending she didn't see the things that she did. Pretending, for all it was worth, to be that stupid, blind girl. 'You're more useful this way.' Instead, the brunette gave a distant smile. One that she put on too often since arriving at USARILN when she looked into the mirror before the sun rose trying to convince herself that she was fine.
"I don't think you can bring up stress and then brush off the rest of the thought as nothing and still be convincing, Chris."
There was a shudder. Her words broke through his cloak like a piercing wind of frost. Perhaps that may have been neccessay, he couldn't hide that feeling from her forever, but at the same time he wasn't comfortable just telling her that. There was a pause as he tried to make up his mind. If he was to keep himself from being alone again he had to open up more, just enough to perhaps show some level of trust at least. Another sigh escaped his lips. "Before I came to Usariln I've been..well...We all have had some terrible shit in our pasts, I'm nothing special but..my experience has made me rather...cold, unwilling to want to associate myself with others; Thats how I felt when I first came here too..until..Until I met you at the library...I don't know why or how, something about you just clicked I guess..." Another sigh. "I don't want to burden you or expect you to feel the same way or anything, infact I think I've been dreading to tell you this out of fear of rejection, but there isn't any point of letting this drag on..I..I have feelings for you is all." There was a huge sense of relief as the words came out, one of the many things he had been bottling up now rested easy and out of him. It wasn't a secret he had to guard on his conscience anymore.
Siena knew it was coming, had done her best to brace herself, but it didn't stop the revelation from hitting her like a sack of bricks. Her mind clicked, whirred, tried to figure out what the best course of action was, and failed to come to any conclusion. All those years alone with people that were supposed to prepare her for anything, and she didn't have a proper response to this. Or so she wanted to tell herself. Siena faltered, cracks forming in the mask. Apprehension, concern, a twinge of fear. Another distant twinge of...she didn't know what it was.
"I...I'm flattered that you think you have feelings for me." What was she saying? No, no, no, stop. Stop. Stop. But the dam had broken, and trying to stymie the flow did nothing in the wake of things. "And I understand how you would come to that conclusion. Better than you might imagine." And here, the mask crumbled a little more. A quiet, distant hurt that pierced through for a moment as her voice lowered. Still gentle, still cautious. "But I think what you have is an infatuation. Maybe I was the first person that was agreeable, or maybe there are some other reasons, but..." But it wasn't anything as tumultuous as feelings, was it? She knew what that felt like, knew how much it tore one inside out. Left a gaping hole to try and cauterize with anything available. "But speaking from experience, I honestly...I hope you don't have anything as sincere as feelings toward me."
It was difficult for Chris to register her response, or rather, he had no experience with it anyway. He simply remained silent, with his hands in his pockets as he walked forward. When she was finished it took him some time to speak up again. "..Maybe it was stupid of me to tell you." He muttered to himself as he looked to the dirt. To her credit, her admittance to expercing a similar emotion was at least trusting, in a way. Even if things didn't go the way he wanted, he at least got that confession out of his chest. "I don't think its mere infatuation...Well, either way..I got that off my chest....." There was another pause. "I just..wanted to let you know that before anything worse happens."
'You're hurting him.' She had to. 'There are better ways to go about this.' No, there weren't. There weren't. She had to believe that. 'When are you going to stop lying to yourself?' She had to be strong. She was a monster in the plainest sense of the word--no, worse. She was the type that still tried to pass for human, wasn't she? The girl let the boy finish, had to stomp out her guilt. There were so very few that might be willing to stand by her after everything that had happened, but this was the kinder option. Right?
Why didn't she feel as certain as she did when she started?
"It's better that you don't feel anything more." She was quiet, far quieter than she meant to be. Her voice wasn't as steady as she wanted, a quiet, careful tune that betrayed more than if she'd just kept up the act. Siena averted her gaze, kept them on the ground. "Anything more than an infatuation is...painful." No. "More than painful. It's agonizing, wanting to be with someone even when you can't, or when they don't feel anything back, or when you can't even figure out who you're supposed to--" Stop. Siena did that time. That was a step too close. She quieted herself again, couldn't stop the pain and guilt from seeping into her voice. "...I don't want to be the reason that anyone feels like that."
"I've dealt with anguish all my life, so that is nothing new for me. It was hard enough to keep that information from you...I'm not one to be cheesey or poetic but I think you're worth that kind of trouble..."He paused. "Don't worry about me or how I feel, you should live for what you feel, I guess...If you don't know how you feel about something time will give you the answer. Just, don't take my confession as some kind of burden, I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me; you especially." He looked forward with eyes straight. There was some pain to be felt, sure, but he still felt 'numb' from that relief of this affection still.
How can he be so sure of himself?
Didn't she already know the answer to that? Siena felt something else try to crack, but she didn't let it. He thought she was worth the trouble. Who the hell was the feeling of a chest being torn open, the heart left bare for the vultured to pick at until there was nothing left? Siena couldn't help but remember the first time she'd pulled someone whose heart had been run through and left to die. How much it hurt, how much she wanted someone, anyone to pin the emotion to. Pain, devotion, something that the Arbiter could only define as love, and all of it not worth the few moments of power that she'd gained from it.
"You're a better person than me," Siena murmured softly. Chris was more...direct, she supposed. That wasn't a bad thing. Softer than she first thought, maybe, but...she didn't see any tells. Nothing to say that he was lying about anything. Muting something, maybe, but lies? No, she didn't see any. That was a rarity in and of itself where the girl came from. A cautious, weak smile. Apologetic and weary. Because she didn't think she could believe him--no, because she knew she didn't. People didn't act like that, much less subnaturals. Because he might have been telling the truth at that moment, but when a twinge of remorse turned to pain, when pain turned to torment, it wouldn't be the same emotion in the end.
She knew that much.
"I'm glad you told me. It's...nice to think that someone cares."
Even if it was all a distant lie.
He shook is head. "I'm not better then you." He muttered back. There was another pause. "We should talk about something else, I don't want to press this subject any further as I doubt either of us are comfortable...Besides I don't want that to spoil our friendship anyway." He said before coming to a stop. "Any ideas on passing the time?"
A pause as Siena considered the thought. Right. It was easier to numb everything than it was to confront it, wasn't it? So she played along, just like she was supposed to. The girl twisted a few locks of hair between her fingers, eyes darting out over the estate. "I haven't really done much exploring since we got here, so um...I guess I don't really have any." Didn't that sound familiar? Despite it all, the bookish mage gave a faint laugh. "A little bit like the time back at school, really."
Chris returned a light smile before he had started to think. He stepped away and infront of her, and turned a 180 so that he was facing her directly. "Well there is a beach we could walk over to, admire the view I guess. " He shrugged. Today may have not been the best to have this interaction, but he was glad he had gotten it over with anyway.
"Oh, that's right. We probably won't have a chance to walk a beach back at school." It wasn't really a school so much as a base, she supposed. Siena did her best to push the thought away, to fill the space with something, even if it was meaningless. "It'll be a new experience. I've never been to one before."
"Neither have I, I believe its this way." He walked onward towards the beach.
Once arriving, Chris walked across the hot sand and decided to dip in his toe into the salty water. It was cold, so cold that it caused him to shake in a visable shiver and step away from the cruel water and back onto the warm hot sand. He was always a bit sensitive when it came to cold weather but his status as a subnatural never helped that little detail either. The chill reminded him of when he was frozen and almost died from that giant ice creature in the sky; a grim reminder that he didn't want to acknowledge.
Under other circumstances, or maybe even a week before, the beach might have been nice. The feeling of sand wedging itself between her foot and her shoe wasn't entirely unpleasant, nor was the faint breeze with the soft aroma of the sea, but all the pleasantries felt hollow. Watching Chris as he moved to the water, Siena stayed back, her gaze drifting from her companion to the distance beyond. A sea. Something she recognized, but not from the usual experiences. Part of her wondered how it would feel to be lost in it the same way as in the visions. Would she be at peace? Or would it be a storm?
She smiled instead.
"Not a big fan of the water?"
"Not when its freezing." He replied, though appreciated her humor. Her very voice broke that sense of dread he had felt. "Still...Nice view, the water looks like its sparkling with all the waves rising in the sunlight." He commented as he sat near her on the sand, knees up with his arms crossed over them. "I wonder how well my dragon form can swim?" He pondered to himself out loud.
"I don't know if you want to try that in freezing water." Though the curiosity had piqued as well. She tried not to think about the previous conversation, didn't want to be reminded of the pain. Easier to numb herself. "Though you could probably use your wings as sails if you tried." Didn't want to acknowledge that she was probably hurting more than helping. He didn't know.
"Hmm, maybe." He pondered for a moment, then a slight chuckle. "Sorry this must be a bit weird with the romantic view and everything." He closed his eyes as he continued to face the ocean. "...I mean..well..I don't want to be a bother to you is all."
If Chris had been looking in Siena's direction, he might have noticed the instant that the mask faded. When her expression contorted briefly. First in guilt, then in something that might have been pain. A vague shadow of an emotion she felt too many times before. Something lost. A new experience that you wanted to rip out of yourself. But she molded it back into that semless facade, filled in the cracks. "It's...it's not a bother." Liar...but she wasn't good at saying things that gave away weaknesses, was she? Didn't like exposing any of her emotions when she could avoid it.
And panic isn't a display of that?
"I don't think I can really identify a romantic view from a normal one, so I should be the one apologizing."
"Apologizing?" He shook his head. "No don't apologize for something you didn't do."
"Sorr--oops! It must be a bad habit." That was too hard a thing to do. There were countless things that she had to apologize for not doing. He doesn't know. Siena gave a weary smile of reassurance in return to the statement, a perfect simulation of what she'd seen and done before, even if she felt hollow while doing it. So many things to apologize for.
For not being able to stop the slaughter. For not holding up the cars. For not being able to save more people in the building. For not telling him why she couldn't do it or how everything felt when it came to her. For refusing to acknowledge either of them as humans.
But she kept the reassuring expression up, and despite the companionship, she felt her walls go up. All the better to isolate her so she couldn't hurt anyone like the monster she was.
There was a short pause. Perhaps it was just him overlooking her habit, but for a small moment he felt like he could feel something that he was far too familiar with. The very darkness that he had been consumed by for all those damned years. It wasn't foolish to think everyone had their own version of it, especially with the nature of their existence, but this was the first he actually acknowledged the thought in full awareness that someone else was feeling that dread. The events in DC was a reminder of how shit the world was right now, the casualties of that fight over innocent lives reminded him of the loss of his hometown. Sure enough, he couldn't have been the only one to suffer from that.
Chris's expression had slowly shifted from his casual demeanor to something of serious and grim. "...Don't let your burdens weigh you down while you have time to enjoy yourself. Don't listen to whatever the people on the outside think of subnaturals...." There was a pause as he wasn't sure if he should continue. "Most of us probably will live short lives if this keeps up...I'm one to talk as I still feel..." He suddenly felt like he had been carried away with his statement, perhaps he said too much. There was a moment of pause for him to regain his composure and change the direction of his words. "Just don't beat yourself up too much, okay?"
Had she let it show? Siena was surprised to see Chris wear an expression so grim. It felt out of place with what she knew, and another red flag rose in the back of her head. Was she wrong again? More memories that were lying to her, trying to craft some fascimile of the lives that she borrowed? No...no, he hadn't been different earlier, hadn't behaved in ways that were entirely unexpected beyond a startling show of unshakable loyalty. Was that the word she'd use?
But it was the words that struck home. Of course, Siena understood that everyone had their own burdens--her problems, not theirs--but she had already come to terms with the fact that she wouldn't be sharing hers with anyone else. Not everything, at least. Not the girl whose hair was the color of fresh hay, whose magic felt like warmth and light. Not the faceless blurs she didn't quite remember the names of. She wondered, briefly, if that unshakable loyalty that had startled her could be broken. If she wanted to do it. If she should.
"I...I appreciate the sentiment." A spark of hesitation. No. She was willing to do this. The smile fractured, held a broken sentiment, held a wounded child that meant nothing to the world. "But I can't help but think that those people are right about most of us."
"And so what if they are right? Thats the reality we live in, we have to carve ourselves a place in this world amidst all this chaos, be it heroes or villains." There was another pause, his eyes were closed as he didn't like to face his own apathy like this. "Were all that we have left. I really meant it when I said I'd stay by your side regardless of what happens, not just because of my affection, but because you, me, and the rest of the subnaturals that haven't gone rogue are by ourselves against the world." There was another pause, unsure if he should continue. "Though I will admit that loyalty comes from the waning respect I have for the rest of the students here, I don't want to admit that but..." He shook his head. "Not disrespect but..lack of trust, I suppose. I don't think they acknowledge whats been going on with our situation...then again maybe they choose not to, and I don't fault them for that." Chris turned his head to the side of the sand, further away from Siena. "Sorry, this conversation has gotten me moody is all..sorry if that was a little dark."
He doesn't understand.
'How can he when you don't bother to share?'
"It's fine." Because moodiness was nothing new. Because Siena understood that for all the rough edges that he displayed, the words were apathetic. That there was any loyalty to have, regardless of trust, regardless of respect...but it was best to keep that silent. He didn't understand yet. He didn't have to yet.
Would he still be this loyal if he knew what she'd done?
"The topic wasn't exactly the brightest." An excuse. A justification. Why trust her? It was a bad idea. She quieted the words, replaced that truth with something else. A lie? A partial truth? An observation? She couldn't quite identify it before she spoke again. "But considering that view, you must be braver than you give yourself credit for. You say you don't trust the others, but you're still willing to fight for them. Or with them. However you want to view that." Quickly, she adopted a weak smile. Another perfect imitation of something she'd seen before. "So maybe it's not such a dark topic."
Bravery? He was brave? Chris shook his head at the thought with a light chuckle laced with grim humor. Thats not what the others thought of him. "Brave? No, I'm not brave. Damn it all if I am, anyone asked so far I know here will tell you the opposite. I fight for us because there is nothing else to fight for, and for some goddamned reason despite how foolish and embarrassing I've been in and out of combat I still haven't died yet. Some twisted luck I have, Sometimes I wonder why I can't just drop dead already.." His once attempt at humor fading into a melancholy muttering. He wondered for a moment if he should distance himself from her too, she could just end up like all the others, maybe she would be better off if she avoided him instead.
It would have been selfish of him to keep her even as a friend when thus far everyone that has been close to him perishes. With everything thats been happening in his life, he was starting to truly believe he was cursed, and that very conversation reminded him of why he was so scared when he first came to Usariln. Not of his own death, but the death that followed him.
Why he couldn't drop dead. Such a sad sentiment, even by Siena's standards. A soft breath, and she traced her gaze over Chris, over to the sea. It was comforting, almost, to be near someone that was upfront about their emotions. She didn't have to dig, didn't have to watch for the faintest flickers of change, didn't have to pluck at strings that he probably wasn't aware he had. It was...different. She didn't know if she liked that or hated it. Too hard to figure out that issue, she acknowledged, so Siena set to her usual diversions.
Not her problems, theirs. Mentally, she took a step back, couldn't get herself too involved if she wanted to make sense of things.
"We...can't control what happens in combat." Liar. "Maybe you've made some mistakes, but...it's unfair to ask you to manage everything perfectly." Because it wasn't his job to be. He was a dragon, and if that link was anything to go by, he wasn't always going to be the one in control if that feral instinct reared its head. "And despite any misfortunes you may have had, you come back, and you go fight again. It takes some sort of courage to do that."
A pause. Another lie...? No, a partial truth.
"...besides, what would I do if you dropped dead?" A distant smile that spoke of a sorrowful thought. Harder to imitate, harder to project. "I'd hate to lose another friend."
There was some reassurance in her words, but what struck him most was her last reason. That gave him a faint smile, not when hidden by his apathy or edges, there was some genuine happiness in that thought. He didn't feel so alone, and he felt a bit foolish for not thinking of how she felt if he went, but that joy didn't last long enough to cure his plight. His distant tone soon returned.
"You're not wrong, and I don't want to give you any burdens should I go...I guess its me being selfish..but everyone around me just..." He stopped himself. He had been so open to her thus far, like a damn slowly opening up to let the water out, but in that single sentence that same dam suddenly closed; as if it was barricading against a flood. He fell silent, turned his head away from her, the very thought of that just caused him to feel that same emptiness..that loneliness, that he was so used to feeling now. It almost felt bitter, being pulled from that brief moment of comfort back into the abyss he crawled from; A reaction that caused a single tear to sting his cheek.
Was she wrong?
"I--" Siena stopped herself. Wasn't this easier? A cold, hollow feeling shot through her chest. Right, wasn't this what she had originally wanted? The brunette paused, felt a moment of hesitation. Should she stop him? Let him go? There hadn't been enough time to pull enough of herself away to make the logical choice. Not enough time to feel less human yet. "...if that's really how you feel, I won't stop you." But that wasn't fixing anything, and what good was that? She bit her lip. This wasn't what she wanted, but...since when did what she wanted matter in the end?
She made her voice waver, loud enough to carry, but not enough to be strong. Like it had hurt, even when she wasn't entirely sure if it had.
"I guess staying by my side was just a convenient turn of phrase."
There was a pause. "I still mean what I said, being by your side that is, that won't change so long as the both of us draw breath at least." He stood upright and paused, looking towards the ocean with a sense of longing. "I'm..i'm being a bit too dramatic, I apologize. I don't plan on killing myself or anything." He turned back to her with an attempt of a smile to hide his sorrow. Next time we hang out we should talk about something more casual..I..." He turned his head away.
"I'm not ready to talk about what happened..." He muttered to himself before he started to walk off. "Do me a favor though, and take care of yourself. I don't want to lose you too." Though he meant every word, he wasn't strong enough to keep that conversation going. He was close to talking about old wounds, wounds that weren't ready to be looked at. He trusted her, but he wasn't ready to share that with anyone, not even himself.
Take care of yourself. Easier said than done when she never did it before.
But that wouldn't fix anything, so she gave a soft sigh.
"Alright." Careful treading. An affirmative to all statements, any statement he wanted the affirmation for, even if it wasn't true. "The request goes both ways though." A pause. Make it easier.
"I think I'm going to head back first." Painting a masking smile, weak and careful, Siena brought a hand up to rub her shoulder, as though chilled by the breeze of the ocean through the thin bolero over her shoulders. "I'll catch a cold if I'm out here much longer."
Without any more words to share, Chris took of his favorite blue jacket and offered it to her. Though a bit chilly himself, he also offered to walk her back home with his hand.
Zoe felt like she could be doing better with all this. She'd been trying more, that was for certain, but... well, Angel had been right to say her methods weren't healthy, that was for sure. Something about slicing yourself open for training's sake didn't strike her as a tactic that'd count as a great coping mechanism. But it was pain, wasn't it? Everything cycled back to that. She'd been specifically avoiding Lily, knowing fine well the girl would try to heal her. And after what she'd done to the arbiter on Monday, Zoe hadn't wanted to go anywhere near Kusari either.
Still, she couldn't really get better at dealing with the others if she avoided them all day.
That being said, she didn't have much reason to seek people out for the most part. Outside of perhaps one or two classmates, Zoe wasn't even sure who'd count her as a friend. So actually planning to bother anyone was a no-go. Coming across them in her own time, however, was a different story entirely. So upon seeing Siena walking around the mansion, Zoe figured she wasn't doing much today anyway. Breaking into a jog, she tapped the younger girl on the shoulder in an attempt to get her attention. "Hey, Siena. You busy?"
It was...better than the last week, Siena acknowledged. At least, she was sleeping a little better--if you could call what her nightly schedules were real sleep. After her usual morning endeavors, Siena had taken to walking the grounds. Still not eager to make contact with her peers, still avoiding the help whenever possible, but at least she was out. With her phone nestled safely in her pocket, the day was nice. Nicer still if she kept pushing away memories of recent events. Almost perfect if she didn't let herself stop and think for long enough to remember that she'd effectively trampled over most of the friendships she'd started to form.
It was for their own good, wasn't i--WHAT?
A sudden tap on her shoulder was more than enough to make Siena jolt, almost jumping at the voice, her muscles tensing as though wanting to immediately figure out a flight or fight response. Oh no, noooooooo punching. Two times to Marcus's face was plenty, Siena chided herself--or maybe her panic wasn't intense enough to lose that hint of rational thought. Thankfully, trying to work through that particular line of thought was more than enough to keep Siena from acting brashly, eyes darting up and down to see who was speaking to her.
"O-oh, Zoe!" Her heart still raced, but started to slow, allowing for her to recall the question that she thought had followed her name. "Oh, um...no, not really." She paused for a fraction of a second, then gave a chuckle. "Actually, make that not at all."
At that, Zoe laughed lightly. "Thought so. You don't exactly look like the busiest person in the world right now." She wouldn't have annoyed Siena if she had, really. But hey, that meant that neither of them had anywhere to be. And Zoe actually felt like being around people wouldn't be so bad today. "So, mind if I drag you into town? Might as well go find somewhere to spend the day."
Recalling their last interaction, Zoe figured there was at least one rule they could both agree to stick to. Gesturing to her face, she smiled. "Somewhere without chandeliers, anyway."
Despite her best attempts, Siena gave a sheepish, apologetic smile at the mention of chandeliers, memories of having a few more sips of liquor than she should have and encouraging a few antics that she really shouldn't have seeming distant though they had been less than a week ago.
"I'm still reaaaally sorry about that," Siena claimed with an appropriate grimace. That definitely, definitely was her fault. Still, at least it...seemed like there weren't hard feelings? At least no feelings harder than the floor of a penthouse. The sheepish smile fell more into place, the apology fading slightly from Siena's expression as she responded to the first inquiry. "But heading to town sounds better than staying cooped up here all day again."
And...well, the more distractions she had, the better, right?
"Great! And don't worry; I've got a thick skull anyway." Zoe chuckled, pleased by the girl's agreement. Honestly, she'd wanted to head to the town for a while now, but it was better to have someone to go with. And, while it wasn't really the point, it was generally more helpful to have someone that wasn't an X around. Even with other subs, they could be seen as... what had been the word? Unreliable. Knowing what went on in her own head, Zoe couldn't blame them.
Come to think of it, though, she didn't have much of a plan. "So, you need to get ready? It's only a few miles away, so we could probably grab some bikes and cycle down if you're up to it. I think they have some in the garage." It wasn't far to go, and it'd be good exercise the way Zoe saw it. That and, well, "I kind of have no idea how to drive."
Ah, so Zoe didn't know how to drive? Siena gave a slight smile, knowing that her own position wasn't much better. That aside, she'd never ridden a bike beyond the boundaries of her estate before, but Siena didn't think that could really be a deterrent. After all, since she'd arrived at USARILN, there had been a lot of firsts--the first time riding a bike in absolute freedom didn't sound entirely terrible.
She pushed the memory of who had taught her how to ride a bike out of mind, and smiled at Zoe and responded with an attempt at humor. "Unless my dog knows how to drive, I think we'll be stuck with bikes."
"I mean, have you checked? Never know what they could teach 'em around here." Zoe laughed, relieved. That was good, because she would have felt like a complete idiot if there hadn't actually been any way to get to town. All things considered, though, this worked out fine. "We go now, we should get there in time to grab lunch or something." Though from what little she'd seen of the place in their journey, Zoe wasn't convinced it'd be fine dining.
Deciding it would be easier for them to just figure it out once they got there, Zoe turned to make her way towards the garage. Glancing back over her shoulder, she shot Siena a grin. "No point waiting around longer than we have to, right?" By the time that the duo had gotten to town, Siena had come to realize a few things about bikes. First, she hadn't ridden one in years, and that was to be expected with what limited space she had to ride in, she supposed. Second, when people said that one never forgot how to ride a bike, they were the biggest damn liars she'd ever heard. Though she'd managed, with great effort, not to make too much of a fool of herself, Siena had realized that she was not as comfortably balanced on a bike as she used to be, though with enough time, the girl had managed to largely regain whatever old talents she might have had on a two-wheeled vehicle of potential injury. Thank goodness she'd deigned to take a helmet with her.
She really had to stop getting onto vehicles that she was in control of--or so some sardonic voice in the back of her head declared. It was not wrong. Still, as the mage freed her hair from the bike helmet, she couldn't help but feel a little...lighter? It was hard to put her finger on the word. The feeling wasn't unpleasant.
"W-Well, I somehow managed not to run my bike down a mountain side," she said with a laugh. Something in the back of her head set off a faint, anxious warning. People generally didn't get along with subnaturals, would the town be any different? Again, the brunette pushed the thought aside and smiled instead. "Any chance we can pretend I didn't run it into that tree though?"
"I'll just say you'd have some impressive off-road skills," Zoe grinned wickedly, "if I didn't think you were trying to stay on the road the whole time. How about I don't bring that up, and you don't bring up the hotel." The younger girl didn't seem to have hurt much more than her pride, though, so it was fine to find it at least a little funny. That being said, Zoe was glad she hadn't let Siena try to drive or something.
As for this place, well... their journey had been delayed somewhat by Siena's grudge against nature, so it was more than late enough for Zoe to start feeling peckish. "What do you say we find some food? There's gotta be someplace around here, and it should be around lunchtime." She glanced at Siena. "You hungry?"
"Sounds like a fair trade." Even if the hotel incident was Siena's fault. Falling in line beside Zoe, Siena took the chance to get a quick look around for a quick inspection of the atmosphere. The weather aside, it didn't seem like anyone was running at them with pitchforks for showing up, thouh the brunette had to say that was probably the extreme reaction to the presence of subnaturals. Beyond that, nobody was getting in their faces, so she supposed it was hard to say that there was a reason for the two to be targeted. Finding that satisfactory, the Arbiter gave a haphazard grin in response.
"If I say yes, can I get revenge on some trees by eating a salad or something?" Like eating their leafy, chubby cousins, the heads of lettuce and spindly spinach. This felt...natural. No time to think about that. She didn't want to think about that. Fine. The smile didn't falter.
Zoe laughed lightly, her smile wide. "That, I'm sure we can do. There's gotta be somewhere around here with food - everyone's gotta eat, right?" Even out in the middle of nowhere, everyone had to eat, right?
After a long walk around the town, Zoe had firmly decided that this place was a complete shithole and seemed almost completely deserted. Any signs of life were evened out by the complete lack of anyone around. Eventually, they'd stumbled across a cafe of some sort. Better than nothing, she supposed, although she was no longer quite so sure they'd have any salad. If there wasn't anything there, then she'd probably just give it up, in all honesty. "Let's just head in here. If there's nothing, then we can at least sit for a while, 'cause this place is kind of a wreck."
Pushing open the door, Zoe grinned widely. If nothing else, she could at least hope that these people wouldn't be assholes. "Afternoon."
The cafe owner was an older man--a quick peg marked him around his early 30's or late 20's--whose beard hadn't been trimmed in days. Yellowing water stains decorated his rumpled dress shirt and lint had gathered onto a nice layer across his brown corduroys. He smelled like alcohol, despite the cafe's only drinks being water and watered-down coffee, which gave away his pastime whenever he wasn't lazing in the little space he called his own. But all of that were peripherals, because the single most notable feature was the white streak across his face as he turned to look at them, brown eyes widening at the sight of Zoe's X, then narrowing towards the mark on Siena's face.
"...What do you want?" he huffed, putting down the mug of coffee he had been nursing.
Following after Zoe into what claimed to be a cafe, Siena glanced around, the cafe quite a change from what the girl was used to. A small buzz in the back of her head murmured about how little Maya would have approved. Her clothing would get dirty--too late to fix that after the ride there--and things were--her eyes settled on the owner. A bit sloppy, but that wasn't of much concern when her eyes settled on the white streak mirroring Siena's own.
'He's a subnatural too...?'
It was startling in comparison to the last few establishments, and it took most of Siena's self control not to stare in wonder. She glanced at Zoe, then around the establishment, then back at the man in question, her speech apparently lost for a moment. "Um..." A few potential words tried to form, but none seemed quite right, so she threw out the first question that came to mind. She regretted the question as soon as it had formed halfway, the grimace showing before the final words clearing. "Are you open now?" Dumb question.
For her part, Zoe hadn't missed the man's surprise at their appearance, frowning when she realised he was a subnatural as well. A white mark; not hard to figure out which one of them he'd be likely to have an issue with, the way she saw it. Despite the potential hostility, she didn't mind the location itself. The grime of the place, while... not exactly high-class, was almost familiar. Comforting, compared to the strangeness of the mansion and its ever-present servants.
Even if this place wasn't exactly normal, it almost - almost - offset how unnerving this whole town had been.
"Hey, it's the middle of the day. I'm sure there won't be any problem with us hanging around for a little while." Zoe smiled at the man, though it clearly wasn't a friendly one. "Right?"
"...Don't cause no trouble. You start feeling that--that whatchamacallit you X's get--you get out of here. Go break something I won't miss." He continued watching them, as if expecting Zoe to fly off the handle at any second. "Only have water and shit coffee right now. People don't really come here for drinks."
"What do they come here for? Depression?" Zoe spoke sharply before realising this probably wasn't helping her prospects here. She understood the reasoning, but it sucked to realise that even other subs would have that kind of reaction to her presence. Tempting as it was to push the point further, Zoe sighed. "I'm sure I can find it in my heart to sit down for a few minutes without going on a destructive rampage." That, and she didn't want to drag Siena into a fight or force the girl to watch a murder.
An exercise in self-control. Shrugging, she walked over to grab a seat - a manoeuvre designed more so she had an excuse to turn away. It wouldn't do to let him see the moment of bloodlust that she couldn't keep from her face, fading once the initial frustration settled.
The man snorted, already expecting trouble. X's were the same no matter how hard they tried to fight it. Sure, it wasn't their fault, but that didn't mean he had to put up with their shit. Like how old people got shafted into nursing homes, he figured, except the case here was less senility and more psychotic rampages.
"News," he answered, ignoring the snark of the response. "Every month we get a packet of newspapers and magazines. They come here to talk." He nodded at an empty, rusting wall rack next to the end of the bar counter. "And sometimes I hear things that don't find their way into no newspapers."
It didn't take long for tensions to rise, and Siena was reminded, once more, that Zoe had the black X on her throat, not the white paintstroke. The brunette didn't see the difference, didn't wonder what it was like feeling a need to break and destroy because she felt it frequently. It was hard to remember that they were different, even by subnatural standards, until someone else pointed it out to her. As Zoe moved for a seat, Siena turned her attention to the other man, shooting an apologetic look despite not feeling any real need to apologize. She would have moved to sit with Zoe, but her attention was suddenly grabbed by what the man said.
Things that didn't make their way to newspapers? The girls eyes followed his motion, peering at the empty wall rack. It made sense that news wouldn't reach the remote location often, but...
"What kinds of things?" The girl found herself asking before she could stop herself, that ambition to know once more burning in her gut, spreading like it wished to consume her.
"The kinds that keep you alive if you catch it in time. Leviathans in the waters. Amigos or Senators finding their way here. Worse folks catching wind of this place. We keep to ourselves here. And for now. Don't need nothing disturbing the peace."
He was much less guarded around Siena, namely because she wasn't at risk of a black mark controlling her urges, but it was a fool's choice to think all white marks meant well. The leader of Amigos certainly didn't if the rumors from the favela were anything to go by.
Those were familiar names...had she read about them before? Amigos and Senators...Siena made a mental note to look into into it later, to refresh her memory if nothing else. The brunette gave a quiet nod in response, though she wondered if the presence of her classmates was something that counted as disturbing the peace. Well...
"I...I see." Another flash of curiosity, fire burning into her stomach. It consumed her more quickly than it should have, and trying to put the flames out, but succeeded only in fanning the embers. "...has there been anything to hear of?"
The cafe owner chuckled, knowing the curious gaze. "Let's have a look."
The outline of his body seemed to blur, before melting inward, colors and features fading until he looked like a two-dimensional figure ripped from a canvas and placed into reality. From every angle the effect remained the same and his silhouette finally faded into a dull gray. He was still while this happened, and within seconds he was back, the strange effect overlaying his body vanishing in an instant.
"Amigos are up to something, down there in Providência. They've been shuttling supplies like mad for the past month now. From where and to who is anyone's guess at the moment. Things blocking me and obscuring me--probably their own mages at work. They're being that careful, then it's something that needs stopping, simple as that."
He picked up his coffee mug, sipping from it casually. "But that's your free tidbit for the day."
"Nice trick. Hope you're not expecting us to pay you." Zoe frowned, but otherwise didn't seem too bothered either way about the information. It was slightly callous, but truth be told she didn't see why she should give a shit what they were doing down there. If it was an issue they needed to deal with, they'd be sent there. Otherwise, Zoe didn't care what plan they were working on; if they weren't trying to kill any of them right now, it wasn't her problem.
She doubted the papers for this month had come in yet, or surely someone would've made the connection between the new group and the sudden appearance of a boatload of subs. Then again... Zoe turned to look at the man, a questioning look on her face. "For all you're saying people come here to talk, I don't see any. Hell, I haven't seen anyone around since getting here. Place is a damn ghost town." And she wanted to know what was up with that a whole lot more than she cared about what the Amigos were doing.
"People keep away from new ones. Never know what'll go wrong. Or what someone's up to. Best to keep scarce until they tip their hands." He sat down on a stool behind the bar, massaging his legs with a free hand. "Thing you need to understand is we don't like trouble around here. We keep to ourselves. But it's a sub-run place and word gets out every so often. Then trouble comes looking. You're gonna have to give people a break if they think you're just more trouble brewing."
Where Zoe had seemed unimpressed, Siena couldn't help but feel a trickle of envy at the man's abilities. Information gathering? As a power? Even her usual ability to keep herself in check couldn't stop the small surge of mild giddiness that came to mind at the prospect. Certainly, it wasn't an ability that could be used in the situations that she had found herself placed in during the last month, but...all that information at one's fingertips. She could barely hear the ensuing conversation for all the possibilities that crowded the space usually reserved for sorting what belonged to her and what didn't. It wasn't until an odd phrase came up in conversation that Siena felt herself ground back into reality as though being thrown into the ground by a giant at full strength.
'A sub-run place?' Siena furrowed her brow faintly while drifting toward the table Zoe had settled at. Did Zhang know about it? She had to, considering they were being put up at her estate, and there was...there was no way she would employ so many subnaturals while lingering so close to an area run by subnaturals without noticing. Something didn't quite add up, a piece that didn't fall into place. It grated at Siena no matter which way she turned it in her head, and that was frustrating in and of itself. Did the subnaturals know about Zhang? Wouldn't they have to?
"So everyone here is a subnatural...?" It was odd to consider that when the marks had seemed so rare when outside of USARILN's gates. It took some time for the girl to digest the concept. That was an entirely different type of demographic to consider--were there more Arbiters than Aberrations? The other way around? How did it work with everyone sporting some sort of supernatural gift? The torrent of questions seemed not to end, but she didn't expect to voice them without being thrown out. Not after what she'd just heard.
A soft voice of reason in the back of her head alerted Siena to something else, and her expression shifted, melded into something between concern and what might have passed as some version of sorrow.
"Even accounting for powers, if everyone is managing to keep out of sight, there probably aren't that many here, are there...?"
"Mm-hm," the man intoned, eyes flicking into that surreal two-dimensional tone. He snapped into and out of the power easily, as if from habit, and after several moments of searching a space the girls couldn't see, he finally raised an eyebrow at them. "Well, if you still want to sit here knowing there's not much here at all, be my guest. But don't stay too long. People might get antsy."
"Oh, that's fine, I've already got a mass murder penned into my schedule this evening, so I can't stay too long." Zoe's acid tone gave away exactly how unimpressed she was with this guy, but she didn't do anything to warrant a fight. Not right now, anyway. Judging by his reaction to her, Zoe couldn't help but suspect that there weren't many of her type around. Made sense on some level, but it was still grating - perhaps more so after dealing with the pricks in DC. "Wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, would we?"
"...Right. Make lots of friends with that attitude, don'tcha?"
"I'm not trying to. You're not worth my time." Except maybe as target practice. Zoe wondered what kind of consequences she'd face if she lost it in here. Couldn't be sure, but either way, he'd be less ugly if she mounted his head on a wall, tore his skin off like a-- and with that thought, Zoe stood abruptly, glancing towards the door but not quite bolting yet.
"Z-Zoe?" The redhead's sudden movement was more than enough to elicit some concern from Siena's end, and she didn't need to hide it at that moment. It was enough to take the bookworm's mind off of what the man had been seeking earlier. Things about them? Things about events far away? An uneasiness had set its icy grip onto her, one that only amplified with each passing moment. "Are you okay?" Dumb question, not one that was really worth asking. "Is something wrong?"
Was that really a better question?
"Sort of." Was something wrong? Or were the thoughts as horrifyingly right as they felt? Zoe didn't want to mention why she'd reacted that way in front of the cafe owner, if only because she'd be proving him right. But hell, she'd already almost killed someone since they were brought to the damn mansion - he was right in her case. And even if she was justified, any fight would end with the guy in a body bag more likely than not.
But damn if it wasn't tempting to start one anyway, reenact one of those terrible fantasies. If it weren't for Siena's presence, Zoe couldn't say if she'd have had the same kind of restraint. As it was, the thoughts seemed to subside a little as the spark of anger faded, leaving the redhead more composed but noticeably tense. "I think I need to clear my head."
"Tell you something good, since you're here and you look like you could use it," the cafe owner called out, watching Zoe with some measure of respect for even attempting to get out of there before things could get nasty. "Dunno about other Animi, but Cat's Cradle--they don't have that problem no more. The little evils that come with the X. I don't know if it's one of their powers or what, but whatever you're suffering ain't a universal law. Dunno if that helps any since the group's damn near impossible to catch, but it's something."
"Something, huh?" Zoe wasn't sure what she was meant to do with that information, but she found herself feeling something completely stupid - hope. Because with the way things had gone, there was every chance their paths would cross with Cat's Cradle again. And for all they'd done, even when Zoe knew they were supposed to be murderous psychopaths--
Was it so wrong to be a monster when the whole world was against you? It was a path she would happily walk down if it meant power. If it meant protecting the others from everything else. Knowing that it might let her be free of those constant urges was just one hell of a bonus. So for once in her life, Zoe decided she'd hold on to that hope, nodding almost imperceptibly.
"Sorry about this, Siena, but I'd rather explain outside." She moved to leave the cafe with an apologetic sigh, pausing at the door and speaking to the man. As close to friendliness as she could muster. "I didn't catch your name."
"Andrew," he replied, nodding at her. "And you'll want to get back to the estate soon, Zoe. I think your friend's dog is chewing on your orange bra. Or her orange bra. The one with that fancy netting for 'breathability' or whatever those sports commercials call it."
"Wh--" Grey eyes darted from Andrew to Zoe. He had been looking into them. A series of unpleasant emotions largely centering on anxiety started to form, bu--wait. Siena didn't own any orange bras. And how had Chief Tater Tot managed to--oh no. She must not have closed the door to her room properly. "Oh no."
"Siena, I don't suppose you've got any way of stopping your dog before it eats all my underwear? You'd be doing me a favour." This was irritating. That was a good bra, and she'd rather be able to keep it, especially when there didn't seem to be anywhere to buy more around here. At least Andrew had been--
Wait a fucking minute.
Zoe suddenly found herself reconsidering the melting idea. Technically, he could live life without certain body parts, right? Icy blue eyes narrowed at the cafe owner. "...hang on, why the fuck were you looking?"
The man raised his hands in a half-hearted placating gesture, coffee mug once more set aside. "Can never be sure people are who they claim to be. Either I check, or I risk dealing with some damn good actors without knowing."
"I'm going to hope you were just looking at my room. Because if you were trying to look through my underwear, we're going to need a conversation." Zoe's words sounded surprisingly reasonable, though there was something in her tone that made it sound as though she was itching for him to give her a real reason to rip something off. After a second, that semblance of reason disappeared. "Actually, you know wh--"
Just as she seemed ready to lunge, she caught a glimpse of Siena out of the corner of her eye. You'll drag her down with you. That was right. Zoe was supposed to look after them, wasn't she? Supposed to make sure nothing went wrong. That was what she'd decided. Doing this would hurt the others, not just Andrew. Another betrayal.
And it was that thought, not any concern for the man's life, that made her decide to abandon the conversation mid-sentence, turning and pushing the door open to exit the cafe without a word of explanation.
"A-Ah...' She'd braced herself in case jumping in was necessary, in case she had to do something more than be there. but before anything could happen, Zoe was out the door. Familiar, isn't it? Another memory that she couldn't quite place. A soft breath, something that echoed as though being screamed into a hollow valley. Another apologetic look toward Andrew--instinctive and only partially genuine beneath the concern. "Sorry..."
One step toward the door, a second step, and then she paused. It was an option. She could ask. The brunette turned again, looked at the cafe owner, opened her mouth to ask, then hesitated. Did she really want to know? Her closed her mouth. Too hard to tell, so instead she moved for the door after Zoe.
"You don't need to follow me, you know."
Zoe didn't look back before she spoke, hearing Siena exiting the cafe behind her. Despite acknowledging the other girl's presence, the redhead continued walking for a few more seconds before sighing and giving her a pained look. "I'm serious, Siena. I have to cool off, and I doubt you'll be able to help."
'I'll stand back here if that's what you want." Because Siena knew how it felt to want everyone at arm's length--further, even. Her feet stopped, and the Arbiter watched with a cautious gaze. "In case you decide that you can use me." Her fingers ran to her pocket, thumbed over the smooth screen of her phone. Cooling herself off was easier, but Siena was equally certain that there was there was someone in her arsenal that could calm someone else in the best case.
And if she needs to cool off because she's going through something like your little performance at the library?
It wouldn't come to that.
Ha. Like there was any helping it. It was going away, fading, but... it'd come back, wouldn't it? Always did. The rest of her life. Pretty arrogant, to believe she could just tear it all away, to neglect sating her Stigma properly in favour of trying to pretend she was something she wasn't. Always someone else that paid for it.
Zoe was silent for a long while before speaking. Her voice was angry when she did, but at the same time there was something detached about it, something distant. "You know what my power is, right? I rot things. Rot people. Until they die. Hurts a hell of a lot, too." At least from her own experience. She still wasn't looking at Siena, and didn't particularly seem to care who might or might not overhear her.
"There's a reason people don't like X-marks. If you weren't there--" And suddenly it felt a lot less distant, a lot more immediate and real and painful. "I keep telling myself I'll get better, and I don't. I'm a fucking liability." She didn't know why she was saying any of this.
There was almost a sour taste of irony in the words. Rotting people until they died. Certainly, Zoe's was more literal, but Siena didn't doubt that she could do the same--except hers wasn't a power. It was just because it was her. The brunette didn't let it show on her face, didn't remove her gaze from Zoe's back. A reason why people didn't like X-marks, one that she was surprisingly familiar with herself. Versatility at a cost. Power at a cost. Everything with a price tag, except for Zoe, ignoring it would probably make it worse.
"But you're trying, aren't you?" Which was more than Siena could say for herself. Get lost in every other emotion until she could deny which ones were hers. The Arbiter remained where she stood, didn't step closer because she remembered what it felt like to be desperate for space. Don't touch. Don't get closer. Don't. Touch. "I can't pretend I know or completely understand, but you're trying, and that's a first step."
Even if there was no way to get better.
A moment, she hesitated.
"I don't know what it is that X-marks go through, but I know what it's like not to have control." Not to have a way to curb the desire to break something because there was another, louder voice that demanded destruction. "As far as I know, that's not something that gets better quickly."
"That's a nice thought."
Trying. Wasn't that a word? Trying to be better, trying to be stronger, trying to be something, anything other than a goddamn mess. Try, try, try - and fail every time. How funny was it, that people actually thought they could rely on her, that she knew what she was doing here? Flying blind - or was it just falling with nobody left to catch her? Sinking lower and lower, because that was infinitely better than watching someone else do it.
"I told you before, didn't I? That I'm a bad person." Zoe smiled. "I don't plan on being a good one, either. Good people..." Died. Hesitated. Got hurt by people like her. "Can't protect what's important." Couldn't tear down the world for their own sake, or rip someone head to toe without hesitation.
Zoe wasn't trying to fight what she was becoming, far from it. "This isn't going away - and to tell the truth, I'm not trying to fight it off. I've hurt enough teammates to know that doesn't work, no matter what I tell myself." Finally, she turned to face Siena, her eyes cold. "All I can do is try to aim it at the right place."
Cold eyes. Siena didn't flinch. Not the first time she'd seen them, and she doubted it would be the last. Trying to aim it at the right place? That was good enough for her. At least she was trying to do that much. Siena wondered, briefly, if she should have agreed, should have been honest. A few weeks ago, she might have backed down, but a few weeks ago, she hadn't been carrying too many thoughts in her head. Everything had been neatly compartmentalized so she could keep being Santana.
"That's good enough." For her, at least. It was more than Siena could say for herself. How many times will you break things before you're satisfied? "That's an effort that too many of us haven't made."
"Is it?" And yet it wasn't good enough to mend anything, to make her a better person. Not even good enough to slow her descent. But good enough, perhaps, that she would be the only one destroyed by her fall. "The ends justify the means, don't they?"
Perhaps this was callous, even cruel to bring up, but Zoe didn't care. "We're pretty much okay right now, so I don't much care how we got here. Collateral damage or not." Collateral damage? Nice way to describe the pile of bodies they left in their wake. Why had she kept speaking? Because she wanted someone to tell her she was wrong? To argue?
"But if we're not smart about what we're doing, then it'll hurt us too. Your team got lucky in DC that no footage got out. I got lucky in Wisford that a healer made it to Cal before she bled out." A sigh. "If anyone isn't making the effort, they need to start. We won't keep getting lucky."
"I'm aware." And she thought of Marcus. Thought of how easy it had been to pull him in, how easily she had stomped on what might have been there. A friendship, maybe. There were so very few she considered friends. Instead of dwelling, Siena did what she knew was easier--simple compartmentalization. Separating herself from her emotions--at least the ones that she could pack away like spare parts. Her gaze went unfaltering, but it wasn't the same, quiet expression that she practiced for USARILN. Not the slight smile, the nervous gaze. Not the girl that thought being surrounded by people would make things easier.
Would he be proud?
"At this point, someone would have to be blind not to realize that we're no longer simply cuffed subnaturals under USARILN employ." Blinder still to think that they were children being sent to war. Not quite soldiers, but certainly not children. "Forcing someone to make the effort is beyond me, but reminding them where to aim may not be." But why was it her duty to begin with? She knew the answer without having to think. Because it was easier for her to sacrifice. Easier when she didn't see something that still looked human when she looked at herself.
She thought of all the people that she hadn't been able to help. Of the red that hadn't belonged to sin. Of how she knew if she were to fall back into old habits and hum a melody engrained far beyond her reach, she would see her flesh burn crimson.
"But you're here, already making the effort. You're here, willing to tell me what I may not want to hear instead of pitying me." And it would never be enough for someone that didn't want to see themselves as "good". She knew that. Again, she thought of Marcus. Of how easy it had been to tell him not to care and make a cruel decision. "Maybe we aren't good people. That's fine. Good people can't make hard decisions." Couldn't cut apart monster from friend if they needed to make that sacrifice. "They don't always know where the right place to aim is."
"You're right. Doesn't mean they'll appreciate it when you take the shot, or that they'll see what's necessary, never mind trying to understand." There was a hint of disdain in Zoe's tone of voice - though not directed at Siena. "Does that really mean they're blind? Or just looking the other way out of fear?"
This was familiar. The girl's words were familiar, perhaps because they'd echoed Zoe's own thoughts around the matter to an almost unnerving degree. The steadiness of the arbiter's gaze surprised her with a different revelation. A strange yet not-quite-similar reflection of her own resolve. They weren't so different, were they? And yet, to the rest of the world, their different marks were a divide that would never be crossed.
"Czernobog. Bad luck and evil personified. They're probably right to be afraid of me. Because when it comes to it, when it really matters... I'd sooner kill a thousand people than risk seeing someone I care for die. A lot of our classmates would hate me for that, but I don't care so long as they'd be alive to do it." It was selfish, she knew that, but the admission didn't bother her in the slightest. Why lie? She had no reason to play at not being a monster. She'd done bad things for far worse reasons before.
"I don't really care what that makes me, to be honest. I know I don't care about the wider world, and I know I've done nothing to anyone that I wouldn't endure myself. That's more than enough for my conscience."
Both willing to make sacrifices, even if they weren't the same type. Siena couldn't deny that Zoe's straightforwardness was refreshing. It was easier to listen to someone that didn't make pretenses about what they were and weren't willing to do. Part of Siena was relieved with honesty, but another part of her felt another weight pressed upon her back.
Then I hope that you don't care for me.
She couldn't say that.
"If it's any consolation, I doubt there's much you could do to make me fear you."
Truth.
You have no idea.
But did Zoe really know that? None of this conversation had been something she expected of Siena, after all. Still, it was strange that Siena didn't seem to be bothered by what Zoe had to say. Because it would have been easy for Siena to lie about, to try and persuade her otherwise. Pretend to be a good person and put up a token fight to ease her own conscience. Maybe it wouldn't have worked, but that hadn't stopped people before, had it?
She really didn't know much about Siena at all.
"I think I believe you. Thanks, but..." Zoe sounded conflicted. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."
Siena gave a hollow smile. Well, it was to be expected, wasn't it? This wasn't the same expression, the same girl that she'd presented before. A distant question of whether she should have just kept playing the same part. Better at being the nice, demure child after being groomed, but that wasn't what she needed to be. Needed something that could at least pass for a little more straightforward, a little more willing to be blunt.
Ah...wasn't that why she appreciated Zoe to begin with?
"At least there's plenty of time for you to decide on that," Siena claimed. Plenty of things to be more afraid of than someone that seemed to care, after all.
"I guess there is. For me, anyway." Because unless things seriously started to change, Zoe doubted she'd have the luck to be dying any time soon. Still, for the others? With how wrong things kept going...
No. She wouldn't let that happen. Whatever she had to do, she didn't want to sit back and watch anyone else die. Wouldn't leave them responsible for another set of murders. Next time she'd be faster, stronger, more vicious than anything in their way.
"Not much to do but wait and face whatever might be coming. Maybe we'll get lucky and no-one dies this time." Maybe they'd get luckier, and it'd kill her and leave the rest of them alive. Zoe nodded to herself, appearing somewhat more composed than she had upon exiting the cafe.
As Zoe locked eyes with the other girl, she was going to thank Siena, but something stopped her. No, it wasn't thankfulness that was at the forefront of her mind, but rather something else. So the words that came out weren't 'thank you', but something else. Surprise, and perhaps a hint of amusement.
"You're not easy to predict, are you?"
The words gave Siena pause. That was one way to put it--she couldn't entirely say that she knew what she would do at a given moment. Not when everything was in danger of unraveling in the heat of a moment, with a few well placed words, with a few memories that she didn't especially want to see.
Her gaze turned away, an instinctive motion to hide the color again. No need to do so when she knew they were grey, but old habits were hard to put to rest.
"No, I guess not." She raked a few fingers through her bangs, pushed them out of her face. "Not exactly the best thing, is it?"
"I wouldn't know." Zoe noted that the other girl was avoiding her gaze, but didn't read any more into it than that. "I've been told I'm hardheaded, obstinate, bitchy... and incredibly predictable."
Perhaps she'd hit a nerve somehow, but Zoe wasn't exactly scrambling to make up for it. "You're what you make of yourself. Am I a bitch? Yes. Are you unpredictable?" There was a slight pause. "Maybe. I'm telling you you are. But why does what I'm saying matter? No-one else gets to decide that." It didn't occur to Zoe, really, that the two of them were from completely different worlds.
Perhaps there was a certain lack of understanding for Siena's situation. Arrogance in Zoe's assumption that everyone was theirs, and theirs alone. The way the redhead viewed the world was remarkably simple.
"You'd do well to give less of a shit, really."
Would it have been cruel to prove the argument wrong? That was the first thought that came to Siena's mind at the words. To stand there and tell Zoe that the brunette before her made decisions based on things that didn't belong to her? Her expression didn't falter despite the flurry of thoughts, she remained calm, as though centered in the eye of the storm.
It wasn't the time.
"You do have a point. I probably shouldn't care as much as I do." And the practiced smile fell into place. "Y-you know how it goes though. Old habits die hard, right?"
Old habits. Zoe wondered if those were the words to explain the sting in her hands, the bodies in her wake. There were parts of her too, ugly parts, that she couldn't quite kill without risking so much more. Not quite selfish enough to take that risk, not quite selfless enough to let anyone help her until she could. However true or false Siena's explanation was, it was enough for Zoe to accept.
For now, all they could do was soldier on through their self-indulgent suffering. Because old habits died hard.
"They do, don't they. They really do."
And perhaps, for now, there was nothing else to say.
It was hard to find time to cease being restless, harder still to find the will to sit and close her eyes long enough to drift into sleep. Not when she knew there were nightmares waiting, new ones that she doubted she would want to remember. Things like cars and civilians, crumbling buildings, people she couldn't save, relationships that she shattered because "it was necessary" when each passing moment made her uncertain whether it really was. Besides which, there was far too much for her to do, too much to improve on.
New books to read, new sources to find, new ways to create some sort of connection with names of people that she knew would only serve to weaponize her further.
But by 1 AM, Siena noticed the spots that were starting to blot her vision, small splatters of ink that blinded her. By 1:30, it became painfully obvious that trying for more was foolish. By 1:45, the bookworm had made her way to the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of hot tea--the type that had enough caffeine to wake her, but not more.
When 2 AM came around, the girl had taken to settling on one of the couches in the billiard room, one television on to news set on mute so there was motion to focus on, her cup of tea still half full in her hands and getting cold, her eyes drifting toward the entry to the gym every so often. It would be easy, she acknowledged, to slip into the habit of moving. Doing something with herself so that sitting idle wouldn't fill her head with constant revisions of events that she couldn't fix. Things that a Santana would have, should have, done differently. Things that Harker wished had happened.
She sipped the tea out of habit more than out of any desire to moderate the temperature--the liquid was hardly enough to burn at that point anyways. There were other things she didn't want to think of too, weren't there? The phone nestled in her pocket had been silent since the last message she'd sent.
Why?
She took another sip of tea.
And there she was again.
In the depths of his own room, Brent's eyes glazed over at Siena's location marker. 2AM and she still wasn't anywhere close to sleeping, even if Siena had been floating around like this for the past couple of days. The arbiter himself wasn't much of a sleeper either, but when he slept, woke up, and realized that she was STILL awake and about?
It was cause for concern, especially now that she had followed such a demented routine for almost an entire week now.
And maybe he did feel a little bad about ragdolling her around in the library as well. Just a little bit. Not enough to apologize or anything like that. Brent nodded to himself, reassembling the handgun. Yup, if they jumped back into the past and he was in that same situation again, he would have done the same thing.
Walking down the stairs in his loungewear, Brent made no pretense as he marched towards the light that shone in the otherwise darkened estate. He passed into the billiards room, saw that familiar head poking out from the couches. Thought, for a moment, that she had finally fallen asleep after all, and that no intervention was necessary. But Siena moved, sipping at something, and he sighed.
"Heyo," he said, leaning against the wall, "Up pretty late, huh?"
A familiar voice came through the air, and Siena glanced at the source, her fingers curled around her mug. Part of her wasn't entirely surprised, given their previous rooming arrangements and surprisingly similar sleeping patterns then, but it was late, and she hadn't seen anyone else in her initial wandering. Was it a coincidence?
"I could say the same to you." Her fingers remained wrapped around the mug, and Siena moved away from the center of the couch to one side. "Not exactly in gym clothes, so...you here for late night television?"
It was worse. Out of place even, and in the dim lighting, Siena looked almost gaunt, her eyes too wide open in consideration to the rest of her face. Gray lethargy clung to her gaze, a far cry from the fire he had seen during their foray in the library, and it all only served to confirm that yes, she was steadily on the path of sleep-deprived self-destruction. Did the events of DC still haunt her? Did those scenes emerge whenever she closed her eyes?
He sat himself beside her, leaning slightly away.
"Naw," Brent replied, "Had some things to handle on my side. Thought I'd take a break before going back to it."
Things to handle? Curiosity peeked its head out, but Siena held herself back with a significant amount of effort. Not tonight. Instead, she offered a smile, tried to hide how tired it was, but couldn't keep it all out. It was a good effort, she supposed.
"Taking a break at this hour instead of calling it in for the night?"
"Gonna forget it in the morning if I do,"" he replied, "Still, that's me. Why are you still up?"
Because I don't want to sleep.
Yeah, not the best answer no matter how she swung it.
"Couldn't sleep." Not a lie, but not really the truth either. "I figured some background movement would help."
"Background movement for most of the week?"
How did he...? Siena hadn't seen anyone the other days. Her eyes shot up to Brent's face, looked for something that might give her an answer for a moment before realizing that no matter how hard she looked, a facial expression wasn't going to give her a detailed answer on how.
"U-Um..." Should she lie? Tell a partial truth? The answer didn't come to her. "I didn't..." Didn't what? Lost the answer she had been tryig to forge, and instead tore her gaze away. Down to the mug, something that didn't demand an answer.
Difficult, huh? Something that she didn't want to say aloud? Something she didn't want to admit, a further depth in the madness and ugliness and emptiness that was Siena? Brent wasn't sure, but he wasn't in any rush.
"Take your time," he said, affording a small smile, "Just keep it real."
Keep it real. Well, if there was one person that would know if she was being honest, it would be Brent, woudln't it? She didn't raise her gaze from the mug, wished that it was still hot for a moment there.
"Not a fan of dreaming." It was the easiest way she could explain it--the only way she could really admit it. It wasn't just the nightmares that she avoided, after all. The mage did not lift her eyes. "Easier not to this way."
He let his eyes focus on the silent television for a few moments. It was celebrity news. Safe and stale. What he needed to digest the morsels of truth that she scattered. Dreams. Nightmares. A fear of them leading to this almost suicidal idea of just...not sleeping. Even if Brent realized he was calling the kettle black, he still couldn't approve of it. At least he napped.
"Doesn't sound easy to me," he replied. "Sounds more like punishment."
He might have had a point, but it would have been more punishment to take the dreams, wouldn't it? To have no choice but to relive or reimagine things that she could remember. Things that were on her mind all the time, things that she had spent as much time as possible not thinking about. Siena felt her grip tighten slightly on the mug.
"I never said it was easy. Just an easier way out."
"Still gonna just horribly burn out due to this," Brent pointed out, "Unless you're gonna go at it until you start hallucinating."
"I doubt I'll last that long." Siena was surprised at how candid her honesty was--too tired to try lying or too aware that it wouldn't work? She couldn't tell. "But at least it's just one night."
Just one night?" Brent echoed. Sure, if you assumed it was night as long as you didn't sleep, even if that meant being awake for a whole week. Or maybe he was reading her intentions incorrectly. That happened as well. But regardless, he wasn't going to back down. The arbiter wasn't going to let her fall apart just like that.
"Hey," he started, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Even with the weight of exhaustion, Siena knew the answer to Brent's question. "No." She was taking one easy way out already, what was one more? Still, some quieted portion of her mind reminded the girl that the path of least resistance wasn't exactly much of an option where Brent was involved. A phantom pain, just a faded memory of a bruise that spread across her shoulder was an ample enough memento of that fact.
Still, talking about the things she avoided, remembering why she avoided them when she said them out loud, might make them too real to deny.
"About not sleeping?" No, that was avoiding the question. But wasn't that easier? "Or about not liking dreams?"
"You've slept before," the arbiter pointed out, turning to her, "You slept in La Plata and DC. Tell me about what changed. Was that riot incident all there was?"
His eyes switched to the television, still silently going on about the vacuous life of rock stars. Recalled. He had followed his own story in La Plata, and was also aware of the interviews of his classmates, even the ones that refused, ran away from them.
"Or was it the media coverage as well?"
What had changed?
She thought of the media coverage. About how she'd tried to evade the reporters in La Plata and how the coverage of DC had wiped out traces of the massacre. That had only been the lynchpin. She could have lived with nightmares, had been living with them. But memories? Assumptions? Actual dreams about why? She didn't want to see what sick little fantasies the part of her that preyed on every doubt she'd ever carried would create.
"Nothing changed." And it hadn't. She would have had nightmares about the riot incident. Would have continued to have nightmares even if they'd managed to prevent it. She hadn't changed. Still a little girl too scared to shed a name, too hurt to acknowledge that maybe her doubts were wrong. "Other than having more to think about."
So it just built up. All those separate, horrible incidents that she couldn't forget just continued to stack on, adding to her nightmares until she preferred constant exhaustion to the house of horrors that was her subconscious mind. He should have noticed then, during their short time rooming together. But he didn't. Preferred to focus on other things instead. And with Siena still managing to sleep back in DC, he didn't notice the problems at all.
But now, if this place was also attacked, if this sanctuary was also turned into a battlefield, how much more could she push herself?
A part of him wondered where the butler kept sleeping pills. A part of him came to the conclusion that maybe drugging Siena and forcing her to get a full eight hour's of sleep was viable at this point. But those parts were held back for now. Suppressed.
"Only going to have more to think about as life goes on,"he replied, "Not gonna last long if you go into everything half-dead."
Not lasting long doesn't sound like the worst option.
But she had things to do, spots to fill, people to be if she wanted to be of any use. Not lasting long meant that she wouldn't be able to do any of those things, wouldn't be able to make use of all the work she'd put into being something useful. Her fingers gripped the mug again, and Siena masked it as taking a quiet sip of the tea. The liquid only brushed against her lips, didn't make it past that. If she let her mind wander far enough down the rabbit hole, she knew what was easier to admit. The way things had gone the past few days, there wasn't much more to think about. Only more to do.
Trade lessons, become a monster, be there to listen, follow orders. She didn't have to think about those things.
"More to think about and more to do, yeah." Her gaze slowly trailed away from the mug, watched the screen for a moment, but eventually drifted toward the other Arbiter in the room. "But I'll manage."
"Because you're confident? Or because there's no other choice?"
She couldn't prevent the honey-venom smile from forming, a sliver of the one that she hated in the mirror.
"Pick your poison, I guess."
"Rather find an antidote, thanks." He brushed off that diseased imitation of a smile, a reminder of just how far down both of them were. "Couldn't even manage me, and I doubt DC's mystery bag of fun will be nearly as endearing."
"And if I think that mystery bag will be easier to handle half-dead than whatever happens to be there when I close my eyes?"
"Then how do you plan on finding yourself, 'ena?" Had she forgotten already, about how she called him a coward for not wanting to look at the ugliness that laid within? "Might be a bit selfish, but how are you going to help me if you can't face yourselves?"
"It's not me I don't want to face." ...maybe it was her, or at least the part that Siena didn't want to hear repeated in dreams that she might not be able to discern from reality. Didn't want to hear it from the mouth of anyone that she cared enough for to dream of.
"If it's not you appearing in the darkness, then who?"
People that can hurt me.
"Someone I'd rather not care about."
"But that person won't disappear just because you ignore them."
No, he wouldn't, would he? The girl gave a bitter smile, turned her gaze back to her tea, and wondered whether it was ignoring or simply avoiding in her case. Siena shifted her grip, turned the mug in her fingers until the handle rested comfortably against her thumb--just another distraction to keep her from thinking too far.
"No, they do a perfectly good job of disappearing without that."
"Do you miss them? Or do you fear them now?"
It was a good question, one that Siena wasn't entirely certain she knew the answer to. She'd pushed thoughts aside as often as possible, kept them carefully locked away where they couldn't distract her. Letting them free didn't help in seeking an answer, only gave her pangs of longing, hurt, and anger. Simply a reminder of why she didn't want to face anything the dreams might create.
"Both, probably." It wasn't a sure answer, not that she often found stable footing in those thoughts.
"But you're confident that if you close your eyes, the version you fear will be waiting for you. Why?"
A flash of heat that she couldn't stop.
"Because it's the same person!" The words were sharper than she meant for them to be, harder than they were supposed to come out. Step back.
Brent didn't flinch. They had rougher interactions before. More violent ones. A burst of outrage wasn't going to stop him, if a fist to the face didn't.
They're the same, and yet, you'd rather ignore them entirely in hopes of avoiding the fear that they inspire in you? Even though you also long for them?" Feelings were naturally paradoxical. He wouldn't fault her there. "So why is it that the fear is dominant? What happened to make them disappear, and leave such a mark?"
Why?
But she knew the answer. Knew it as soon as she had run out the door after the first dream and saw the expression on their faces. The one of mild interest from one, the tense, cold eyes of the other. Both had looked at her like it was some unexpected development. She wondered if they'd worn the same faces when her father had called.
"S-stop. Please." Couldn't quite breathe, fingers pressed tight against the mug, eyes staring anywhere else.
A plea, but...
"I will stop," Brent said, placing a hand, tentatively, on her shoulder, "If you can face this yourself. If you promise to sleep. Because you do need it, Siena. I...don't want to see you like this. Just..."
He ran his hand through his hair, temporarily at a loss for words. Temporarily unsure if he was even allowed to go that far. Temporarily unsure if he deserved to. But those minor doubts were squelched soon enough.
"...I don't know how to help you if you don't say anything, but...I'll be there for you if you need it," Brent managed finally, "Even if you don't need sleep, I need you to. Cause you can't help me if you're half dead, and I don't want you to push yourself to help me when you're like that."
Too much, too heavy.
Brent wasn't sure if he should maintain contact.
"Sorry if that sounds practically useless."
A hand on her shoulder, enough to make her fingers marginally press against the porcelain. Siena couldn't keep the instinctive thought from her mind. Reflexive despite her best efforts. Don't touch. Not the same vehemence that had struck her when at DC when it was panic and strangers, something different. Don't touch because...because what? Because she had hazy memories and a need to recoil when someone might care more than she wanted?
She shut her eyes, little reprieve against anything, even if she pretended. What good is that if I can't help you?
"It...it doesn't." Eyes still shut, still uncertain. If she could face it herself? When she was doing everything to avoid it? The idea was almost laughable--would have been under other circumstances. At that moment, it only felt defeating. Facing it alone was exactly why she had decided that sleep was easier to give up. Because she couldn't, and nobody else was going to show up if things took a turn for the worse. Not unless they were there to tell her the same things.
They had taken one look at her, and decided she was a monster.
"I know I'm being a coward."
Eyes closed. To supress the disgust within? It gave him enough pause to considering letting go, but, just like every other 'temporarily', Brent decisively squelched that. He wasn't going to give up. Wasn't going to let Siena self-destruct. Like this, she wasn't just stagnating, she was depreciating, crumbling to pieces while locked in place.
That...was something he didn't want to see.
"If you know that, then you should know what to ask of me, right?" A small laugh. "We've said a lot of embarrassing things to each other already, so hey, don't censor yourself just because it sounds awful."
Did she really know? Siena felt herself falter, wondered if knowing what to ask and being able to ask it were the same hurdle or different ones. Taking a quiet breath, the girl let herself think for just a moment longer. No real reprieve. Would he have been disappointed? Probably. All those lessons to handle herself, and this was what she had to show for it.
It took more than one try for Siena to eke the words out.
"I--" She hesitated. "...I need help."
All the words he needed.
"What would you ask of me, Siena?"
What did she want to ask for? Slowly, she opened her eyes, raised her gaze from the mug to the screen, watched a few people speaking in silence over information that didn't matter in the long run. Slowly, the brunette let her focus shift, settle on the presence next to her. What do you want? Too many things. One thing.
Or maybe there was something that she didn't want that stood out above anything else.
"Help me forget that I cared about them." A pause. No, that wasn't what she wanted. Her gaze fell slightly. "Or help me forget that I used to be human."
"You're st-"
He stopped himself. No, trying to retain their identities as 'humans' was pointless, because it didn't matter. Didn't she discuss that with him before? The superficial differences between humans, subnaturals, and monsters. They could all be sinners. They could all be saints. So Brent stopped, nodded.
"I'll help you with that," Brent replied slowly, amethyst eyes matching her own, "If this is what you want, I will help you forget your humanity. But 'ena, in exchange...never, ever lose your individuality. Don't discard your bonds, because those are all a part of you. Don't discard your feelings, because those are what fills you. Don't ask me to help you with this just so you can run away."
It was still his own selfishness guiding his words, right?
"Can you promise me that?"
'No, I can't.'
Because there was no individuality, no feelings that she could say fully belonged to her. Nothing concrete like Emma's Tulpas. Nothing concrete like the resolve that she'd seen in the week. She wondered, briefly, it she should have told Brent about how easy it had been to stamp out the bonds that had threatened to form, or how tempting it had been to keep doing it. Maybe she was running. Both sides that refused to meet clamored--wasn't that what she wanted?
"I can't promise what isn't there." Still grey eyes, still her own thoughts, still her. "Didn't I say it before? I tried to fill myself with names and it made it worse." Should she really start down that road again? Siena didn't give herself a chance to think it through, didn't have enough there to do it. "They're not my feelings, so what good is it to keep them?"
"But someone is still here, and you can work with that if you don't let yourself look away from what you don't want to see." Word by word, that line rolled out of his tongue, modified just so he could help her remember once more. Did she want to forget? Even if she did, he wouldn't allow her to. The lost can't help the lost.
"Every lie has a truth," Brent said. "Doesn't matter if it's concrete or abstract. If you throw away those last grains of yourself trying to flush everything else, then, well...you're gonna be way too close to me, right, 'ena?"
He was right, wasn't he? But that was too easy, too simple an answer. Every lie with a grain of truth, every feeling that she stored away still carrying with it a part of her own heart. Too easy, and not enough. A breath. Her gaze remained focused, one hand finally separating from the mug, only to finally make an acknowledgement of the hand on her shoulder. The same cautious touch, barely more than her fingertips.
Don't--
Her fingers drew back, a quick recoil that left the touch hovering just above the flesh.
--touch. Because touch reminded her that it was real.
"How can you sure that there's anything true about it?" About what she presented, about what she held back, about the storm of hazy memories and uncertainties that had drained her until there was nothing left. No, she wasn't asking him that, was she? Something that she directed at herself.
How could she know?
"Because I trust you."
She was taken aback despite knowing where it had come from. She'd told him she could be trusted, and still she blinked as though hearing something out of place. It wasout of place for her, and it put her at a loss for words, grasping for whatever words she could find. The ones she found were not ones she wanted to hear. Reminded her too much of what she'd been trying to avoid thinking about. Hurt, betrayal, pain that she couldn't ground herself with.
"Can I trust you?"
He moved before he realized what a bad idea it was. His hand left her shoulder, placed instead over her own.
He spoke before he realized the full connotations of it. "Yes, you can."
But moments after he fully digested what he had done, Brent neither retracted his hand nor his words.
Once, there had been--
'Stop.' Something cut through the memory, ran Siena through as though to pin her to the present, where her mind could not leave. Held in place by a callused hand, anchored her to both the immediate present and a hazy past. He didn't know. Couldn't know. Something familiar and entirely unfamiliar bit into her, but she breathed in to keep herself steady, to keep her gaze steady when she wanted desperately to hide behind any name available to her.
So why did she believe him then?
"Okay..." A single word affirmation that she needed to hear more than she needed to say. "Then I'll trust you."
"Okay."
Brent nodded.
"Alright."
Yup, this was awesome.
"Mm..."
He let go of her hand awkwardly.
"So...got sidetracked a little...but, uh...Siena, it's pretty late, and I'm pretty sure your tea's cold now. Want me to fix up a drink for you and then you get some sleep in after?"
"O-Oh..." The moment had not been lost on Siena, or at the very least, the moment of inelegance had not been lost on the girl. Instinctively, with her now-free hand, she pulled at the end of a stray lock over her shoulder. Twisted the strands until they were taut and on the verge of snapping before quickly untangling her fingertips from their bindings. Right, bad habit.
But that didn't matter when she needed to know what she was capable of. Memories of her conversation with Emma came to mind--a vision that heralded a change of power. Something that could make her stronger? Before, it had always been an improvement on what she could do. Another name, another choice, another option...but it had been over a week, and though Siena had spent hours trying to figure out exactly what had changed, she came up with nothing. None of her usual names had gotten stronger, none of her usual attempts had gotten longer, she couldn't take a third name...what was it? Her eyes trailed down, traced over another series of letters and words, took them in, and did not pull. She'd tried this name too. Nothing had changed.
'Trial and error is so ungainly...' Siena thought to herself while groaning. She'd even tried, to no avail, taking a name that lacked any powers, and had found that it did nothing but leave her stuck with a useless intruder. Settling back, she tapped to another source, this one different from too many others. A book that wasn't really a book, she thought to herself. Nothing but memories written on a page if she went by context. She stared at the words. Once, long ago, she had tried to pull from the source, and found that it was pointless--apparently her perception had twisted the abilities. The talent was there, but not the catalyst, not the means. It resulted in trying to soothe even more than usual in the aftermath.
...maybe that was what had changed?
'Nothing ventured, nothing gained...' So she did. Purple light filled her room, the usual presence of a man trapped in a cycle, the turmoil of trying too hard to pick apart his identity, trying too hard to stop something that couldn't be stopped. It didn't really feel very different from the norm. The same tingling sensation in her right arm, the sa--no, something had felt different compared to the last time. She hadn't really felt when she'd used her ability last time, but this time...
Something felt wrong.
Her eyes trailed to the odd, prickling sensation that kept dancing like sparks along her arm, and Siena felt her heart freeze in place, her stomach fill with lead, and her mind completely stop working. What the fuck? What the fuck?! It wasn't her arm, that wasn't her arm! In its place was a grotesque abomination, a paltry grey color marred with blinking eyes that she dared not count, dared not look at. A trail of motley, yellow eyes that peered at her, blinking, waiting to see--and they could? No, she couldn't...her head was spinning.
She gasped, recoiled her arm, as though she might be able to separate it from what she was seeing, felt her--not her palm, not her arm--palm touch the frame of her bed for support, then felt a searing heat lance up her arm, which shook the girl out of her moment of shock. Then came the spires that tore through the arm and seemed to hover for a moment, waiting for a command. They were three flashes of white hot agony.
She heard herself screaming before she realized that she was.
The spires responded in kind, launching themselves with surprising precision in the direction she'd been facing, burying themselves into the wall for a moment before they seemed to unravel in wisps of inky smoke. What the FUCK?! The Arbiter jerked her arm back toward her body, as though it was safety, felt the palm briefly make contact with her shoulder, felt something worse than the spires that had appeared from the flesh. Another cry, this one more of pain than the previous one, and she recoiled again, monstrous arm left dangling, her left shoulder marked by black veins that seemed like they were peeling from her in wisps of dark mist. She didn't know how to control the sorcerer's power.
'Oh god, ohgodohmygod, fuck!'
Feeling a bit more tired than usual tonight, Angélique had decided to bring an early end to her daily night training at the gym to return to the rooms’ wing. Maybe it was because of constantly putting more strain on her body with each increasing weight she kept putting every evening, or maybe it was because she recently had taken the habit of training her voice powers while she was away on her road trips. She had noticed quite recently that her voice had another limitation she was not previously aware her before. When she screamed, her throat would eventually become too sore to yell anymore. However, when she kept using her voice projection ability, she had begun noticing mental fatigue would eventually hit her the more she used her magic. Truly, she learned new things everyday about her magic…
The raven-haired Aberration snapped out of her thoughts as a piercing shriek could be heard nearby. Jumping out in surprise, Angel’s mind quickly was on alert. This scream… it was Siena’s.
Quickly running up at her door, the young woman wasted no time banging out at her door to make sure she was in. Angel body slammed into the door as she turned the handle, not expecting it to be actually left unlocked. She stumbled into the room, falling up front on her knees. When she raised her head she could see holes into the walls, as if something had shot into them without leaving any trace, but what mattered the most was the girl in the middle of the room.
“Siena! Are you al-…”
Her arm… definitively shaped like a humanoid, but twisted, gross, an aberration of a limb with creepy eyes and shit,
“W-what the fuck is that!? What happened? Who did this to you?”
The door opened and someone spilled into the room. Someone she couldn't immediately identify with her head spinning, her arm not seeing in the same sense as her natural eyes, in some twisted, darkened reality. A strange burst of colors that only left when Siena willed the eyes shut. It took a moment longer for the girl to focus her own vision onto the intruder--Angel? Siena tried to speak, was about to reach an arm to try and help out of instinct, then remembered what happened when she'd touched her own skin. Not safe.
She recoiled, backpedaled from her initial intentions, took a few rapid steps back.
"D-Don't get closer!" Not safe.
Perhaps, in different circumstances, the scream wouldn't have shaken up Zoe as much as it did. But that mixture of pain, of fear-- it wasn't the same as hers had been, but it was close; too close. No, Siena wouldn't, she just wouldn't try to die like that. On some level, the logical part of Zoe remembered the girl didn't even have a stigma to stop her. Nonetheless, she'd scrambled out of bed as quickly as possible.
Once in the corridor, it wasn't hard to spot the open doorway. Even easier to spot Angel on the floor, though she didn't look hurt enough for Zoe to worry about her safety. Words came out as quickly as she could think of them.
"It's not - not like the motel, is it? Siena wouldn't--" There was panic in the redhead's expression as she approached, finally looking past the rockstar and towards the arbiter who'd been the source of the screaming in the first place. Her expression became relieved upon seeing that Siena was alive, before becoming shocked. "Siena? That's..." Not a normal arm. Not even approaching a normal arm. How..?
Angel’s eyes looked to her fiery redhead friend who entered the room next, inquiring about what happened and even worrying herself over that it might have been a repeat of the motel incident.
“Siena, please…” Angélique rose up from her knees, getting back up on her feet. “take a deep breath, calm down, and tell us what happened.”
Chris's lack of sleep was disturbed by a sudden scream from the down the hall. It took him a moment to reckognize Siena's voice behind that scream, and so Chris bolted out of his dorm in his Pajama's to the scene. By the time he got there Angelique was already attempting to console her. "What the hell happened, is everyone alright? Are we under attack?"
No, no, why were more people coming? A bizarre feeling made the arm seem to throb, as though hungering for something. Siena knew what it was, denied it what it craved. Couldn't give it what it wanted, and tried to step away from the growing number of people. Not safe. She took another step back, angling her body to keep the arm as far from the presence of others as possible, felt her heart almost skip a beat when it almost brushed back up against the bedframe again.
"I-I don't, s-something must have changed about..." Not her arm. Icy blue eyes trailed over to the group. "J-Just stay back, I...I don't know how to keep it from--ngh!" The eyes on the arm opened again, eyes seeming to swivel and look around. Her head ached, pulsed with discomfort, and Siena grimaced, willed them to shut again.
"Don't crowd her. We're not being attacked. Hell of a lot of security, and no-one's broken in. If they had, they'd have killed her instead of fucking with her arm. Don't let anyone charge in." Observations she wouldn't have made before her own incident. Clarity thanks to that sick part of her which didn't mind seeing a friend in pain.
"Siena, can you look at me?" Zoe's voice was firm as she tried to meet the arbiter's eyes. Taking a step to the side, just so she wasn't putting anyone else in the line of fire. "We need to know what's happening if we're going to help."
Don’t know… Something changed… Blue eyes where grey should be…
Those details. It suddenly dawned upon Angel. Could it be that...
“Zoe... I think it’s her powers. They must have evolved just now.” Angélique glanced at the Arbiter, who seemed to be struggling with herself. “Am I right, Siena?”
Marcus had heard the scream; it had awoken him from his own restless night, and as the confusion faded and he forgot whatever it was that had been accompanying his dreams, he wasn't sure whether to thank the person or not. However, the grogginess didn't last very long as his brain tried to process the information he'd been given. There had been a scream, right? And it was...female. That much he was pretty sure about.
Even if he wasn't, and the scream had been from his own imagination, it wouldn't hurt to at least take a powerwalk around the lodge. Just to make sure things were still in working order.
It wasn't hard to find the crowd of people, and Chris, gathering around a door. The person whose room it belonged to caused a shot of worry through his heart. He'd had an argument...or at least a discussion outside this room not too long ago.
He silently snuck as close as he could to the doorway to at least hear what was going on, including a slightly unfamilar voice sternly mention not to let anybody charge in, and Angel mention how Siena's powers had 'evolved'.
Right. It was dumb to think that it was only happening to him.
He stayed outside the room, leaning slightly against the wall with his eyes closed, to better focus on listening. Siena and him weren't exactly on the best terms right now, and from the sounds of it, she might have been having another panic attack or anxiety thing-he-didn't-know-how-to-describe. That was something that he A: Didn't want to put himself in the middle of to deal with, and B: Didn't want to have Siena associating him with.
Too many panic attacks with him present, and she'd start to develop some sort of Pavlovian respose whenever he was near. Which would make rooming extraordinarily difficult.
Was it really evolution? Too many people were demanding her attention, and Siena took a breath before glancing between the two Aberrations that demanded her attention at the same time. Her head screamed yes, it was an evolution, but another part screamed louder. Stay away. The girl nodded in response to Angel, took a quiet breath to calm herself. As long as she stayed away and didn't touch anything, it'd be fine. The arm seemed to waver in consistency, a small tendril of dark smoke coming off of it before it resolidified again.
"Just...stay back, please." The plea was about as firm as she could make it. "I don't know how to turn it off, and it--" It did things like rip the life out of what it touched, what it was aimed at. Sacrificed things for power that she didn't want at that moment. "--it's not safe." But how could she prove it? That was the best way to push them back, right?
Chris, though initially alarmed, tried to calm down. Whatever became of her arm was something out of a nightmare, practically. And here he though her powers were just involved with books. If it really was something involved an evolution of her power, then hopefully that meant she wasn't endangered at least. Could a subnatural's own powers kill them? He didn't know, but he wanted to believe that was impossible. ""Alright. Siena calm yourself. The best way to handle some new power is to stay calm, panicking might make it worse. Everyone else keep some distance away whatever's happened to her arm could attack us."
Chris leaned against the wall away from Siena before he continued.
"Now, is that thing sentient? Like does it have a mind of its own?"
Calm down. I'm trying. Siena would have said the words out loud if not for the more pressing matter of the arm's mere presence making her head spin. There were too many answers to Chris's question--yes, no, sort of. It didn't think for itself, but that didn't stop it from having influence. A quiet bloodlust that seeped beneath the surface, soaking through her thoughts. The only alarm that continued to blare was that the arm wasn't safe. Not safe, not hers.
"I don't know." Carefully worded, carefully devoid of most of the emotions that were trickling through now that the fear had started to subside, replaced by equally unpleasant feelings of frustration. They were still too damn close. A throbbing desire pulsed, as though something urged her to plunder, and she knew she had to prove a point. As though it was a natural instinct, a motion that she couldn't resist, the girl withdrew, right hand touching the flesh of her forearm. Another flash of pain as though she'd shoved her arm into a furnace, the black veins and crimson smoke spreading from the point of contact. It wasn't surprising that time, but Siena still jerked the hand away with a hiss of pain as though she hadn't expected it. Best to let the results speak for themselves before they could fade.
"How about we save the twenty questions until after her arm's not doing that?" Looking at the state of the arbiter's arm, Zoe couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. Black veins, smoke, holes in her arm... it didn't exactly look good. If there'd been any doubts that it was dangerous, they disappeared at Siena's hiss of pain.
Zoe scowled. Siena wasn't in control of it, was she? It was like the thing - or Siena herself - wanted to hurt somehow, as though there was an urge that she couldn't control. And wasn't that just painfully familiar? Zoe raised her voice a little, speaking to the other two. "Guys, back off. Anyone needs to approach her, I'll do it - I'm better placed to defend myself." Dark as the thought was, it wouldn't be the first arm she'd severed.
Chris watched in worried horror at her arm, the pain she felt urged some kind of protective instinct to comfort her, but how? Getting any closer was dangerous for the both of them potentially, and there wasn't any simple solution Chris could see to fix this..other then.. "Get closer? W-what do you plan on doing?"
"Nothing, unless I have to. As for what that means, it's not that hard to figure out, dumbass. Stay. Back." Zoe didn't have much patience for explaining things right now, and voicing what she was perfectly willing - if not a little too eager - to do probably wouldn't help to calm down Siena. 'I might rip your arm off' wasn't the most reassuring phrase to overhear.
Saying nothing else, she took a more decisive step forward.
Angélique did as Siena warned, taking a few steps back until she reached the doorstep. Eyes locked on the issue, she barely registered Marcus' presence. Watching Zoe, this was clearly going to end badly if this kept on going. At this point, the only logical thing to do was to try and get everyone to do as Siena requested and back off, instead of playing protective and tough. They couldn't afford another mess and a scar.
"Zoe, do as she says and give her some space. What you are about to do just might make her more volatile. We don't know if her arm is the only thing she has right now." the black-haired Aberration's whispers projected next to the redhead's ears, for her to hear alone. There was no need to panic the others.
"Lets not do anything rash." Chris protested, still pressed against the wall next to the door. "This place is mostly of subnaturals right? Maybe we should ask them for help, they might have seen something similar to this and have an idea on how to treat it?" He hesitated, unsure of the plan itself. "I don't want to see anyone losing an arm if they don't have to."
Great. Apparently the idea of 'lets not talk about ripping Siena's limbs off in front of her' had gone over Chris' head. Shaking her head in response to Angel's protests, Zoe spoke again.
"Didn't we just say it's a power thing? They're all specific, why the hell are they gonna be able to treat this one?" Zoe sighed, her eyes remaining fixed on Siena as she spoke. "I don't want anyone getting hurt unnecessarily either - unless my life's in danger, I don't plan on ripping anything off." That being said, she certainly wasn't doing much to avoid the possibility.
"Unique, yes, but we aren't experts Zoe. Granted I doubt anyone has experienced the exact same thing as this but by chance, if someone here does have an idea how to fix it, its better them do it then us. Were rookies after all, do you even have an idea of what your doing? I want to help her as much as the rest of you, but there is only so much we can do by ourselves, let alone try to fix whatever is wrong with her powers right now." A pause as Chris dwelled on the thought. "We could at least get a healer, could do something about the pain at least if it doesn't outright..fix it."
"Then go fetch an expert yourself, or stop whining, shut the fuck up and let me try to fix this. What, you wanna do a survey? Maybe ask everyone's opinion and put it to a vote?" Zoe's tone had gone past acidic and straight into downright poisonous. "Oh, I know, how about we all write down a suggestion, and start pulling 'em out of a hat? Seems like you'd rather do anything except make a goddamn decision."
Were they really doing this?
"Stop." The demand was firmer than Siena expected. Again, her arm flickered unsteadily, snapped back into stability, smoke starting to coil off of it. The idea of losing her arm was one thing, but were they really arguing about whether to do it in front of her? A flash of frustration, laced with a bloodlust that wasn't hers. Not her. That thing that wanted to grab hold of the bedframe and let the spires fire off again wasn't hers. "If it has to come off, then we'll fix it after." Another grimace. Most of the time her abilities weren't permanent. The smoke continued to trail off, the arm seeming to become less stable with each passing second. The eyes blinked, swiveled again, and the brunette felt a wave of nausea at the sensory overload. "So just stay back."
Chris was about to continue the argument, had Siena not intervened. He was silent for a moment. "I'm going to get help, Angel make sure Zoe doesn't do anything we don't have to do, if its an emergency, fine..but.." A pause before he ran out the door, but he immediately stopped when he noticed Marcus. There was a brief sense of guilt but it was overshadowed by his haste to protect. "H-hey Marcus, can you...help them out in there? Just in case something goes wrong or whatever.."
As if I can possibly stop her without wrecking everyone inside the room...
The whole scene was growing the more frustrating as Christopher was being as stupid as always and Zoe stubbornness didn't help either. Crossing her arm and leaning on the doorframe, Angel glanced towards Siena's menacing arm. So this was something Siena wasn't used to. Now that she thought of it, Siena never manifested anything physical when she called on her powers, aside that strange pink tattoo and her eyes changing color. Could it be she gained the power to manifest physical attributes as well?
"Chris, don't go. Getting more people around Siena will only make her more anxious and prone to endanger everyone, including herself. Now shut up and stay quiet." Her faint words reached out outside the room as Chris left, quiet enough for only those standing outside to hear. Her voice was harsh, but she had enough of this situation growing worse by the minute.
"Zoe..." Angélique repeated once more, but this time it was audible and stern. "Siena's powers always left on their own after a while. If we leave her be, it'll surely leave on its own as well without incident. Stop being an ass and just be patient, alright?"
After his request from Marcus he heard Angelique's request, and by her logic he agreed. Chris just stood outside and watched through the door way from that point onward, not ready to leave her but not about to further disturb her with his presence.
Seriously? Seriously? Zoe's scowl deepened. Just because she hadn't backed off, didn't mean she was about to break down Siena for no reason.
"I'm not going to change my mind," Zoe glared at Angel, "so don't bother. And can we stop acting as though I'm about to start tearing her apart? I told you only if a life's in danger, and I don't tell lies." Really, she'd figured the other aberration would have a little more faith in her than that, considering everything.
"Quit treating me like some kind of rabid dog. I've had more than enough of that from the regulars." Was it unfair to compare the rockstar to them? Probably, but Zoe couldn't keep the anger from her tone at getting the same attitude from Angel of all people.
"It's not that I don't trust you..." the fallen idol answered back with an apologetic tone, but considering what Angélique had personally witnessed, both at D.C. and Ground Zero, there was something in Angel that she couldn't shake off, from both girls. "I'm just saying if Siena wants us to stay back, then listen to her. I know you don't want to harm her, but saying that you'll be close 'just in case' won't help easing her mind. Trust instead that she WON'T do anything."
She couldn't afford Siena to snap under pressure again.
There was something about the explanation that didn't quite ring true, but Zoe accepted it for now. Her eyes remained fixed on the mutated arm as she spoke again, her tone level.
"Better she goes for me than you." With that, Zoe took a couple of steps back, giving the arbiter some more breathing room but still remaining decidedly between Siena and the others. "There. That's as far as I'm going, and it's not a point of discussion. This is taking enough of a chance as it is." It was obvious that, if Siena did snap, Zoe fully intended to bear the brunt of the damage. And she couldn't really bring herself to trust that it wouldn't happen again, even if she wanted to.
Angélique rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerating pouting sigh as if she was trying to ligten the situation "Ah c'mon, you know I can take a hit. I've been training too now, you know?" she added with an ironic tone of self-assurance. She was still admiring Zoe's protective spirit, even if her zealous approach wasn't probably the best to ease the tension. Still, she smiled faintly when Zoe took a few steps back. Better than nothing, right?
"Doesn't matter how well you can take a hit, I don't want you to." Zoe frowned, but said nothing more.
"Move."
The brunette maid side-eyed the boys by the door, rolling her eyes and shoving past when neither of them reacted. A quick survey informed her that the situation was far grislier the hallway cameras had initially suggested. Keeping her face neutral at the sight of that monstrous arm was more difficult that she liked but the maid kept her nerve. Heartbeat faltered as she recognised the other girls in the room. Yet again, she refused an outwards reaction. The Aberrations could potentially be a problem if she didn't remain steadfast. Cool it.
Besides, she didn't get paid to be afraid.
The servant woman remained a respectful distance from the Arbiter girl, an arm's length from Zoe. "May I approach, Miss Santana?"
Who...?
But it only took a moment for the visual cues and puzzle pieces to fall into place. The scream had been enough to bring others to her room, it wasn't as if the maids wouldn't have noticed. Another surge of something between desperation and mind-consuming bloodlust, held back by willpower and practice. This was not the worst she'd had to control. Siena took a careful breath, watched with her own icy blue eyes, the arm flickering faintly again. The smoke coiled faster, seemed to come to life for an instant before it seemed to dissipate into the air.
"I..." A pause. She didn't know what the maid could do, didn't know if this new face had any way to prevent harm. "I wouldn't recommend it." Too many variables, not enough control.
A controlled furrow of the brow. "Are you in pain, ma'am?"
Yes, thought the girl, thinking of the black veins and something that felt like a brand pressing into the flesh and the spires that had torn out of the arm earlier.
"...y-yes."
The maid ventured a step further. It had been a long time since she'd needed to use this. "If I may," her arms and hands beginning to glow a dim, translucent green as she held them up for Siena to see, "I can help ease that, until we figure out how we're going to help you."
Green glow, a step closer. It was like watching someone try to approach a hostage situation with a white flag. Her heart quickened, anxiety pressing at her from every direction. Instinctively, Siena felt one foot shift back. Not safe.
"It hurts what it touches." The words came fast, tumbled out of her mouth before the thought had even completed. A small chance of keeping the maid away--a faint pinprick sensation as she felt the eyes try, again, to open as soon as her focus was torn away. Siena took a sharp breath, willed them shut again.
The maid faltered. Stepping forward was a bad idea. But this situation wouldn't improve through inaction. So she stepped again.
"I don't require contact with the area. Just the person. Please don't hold yourself back for my sake, I am more than capable of handling myself should your arm...react." A half-truth.
Something about that should have rung a little off, but there was too much going on at once. Fewer variables would mean she could focus on what was wrong until it disappeared. Hopefully, it would be enough.
"A-A...alright..." She braced herself, tensed to force herself still. A quiet plea that she didn't quite know how to voice. Be careful. I'm dangerous.
With a nod, the maid moved ahead and--making sure she was in a stable position far on the unaffected side--gently rested a hand on Siena's human shoulder. Immediately the sensation of pain diminished. But so did everything else. Through the maid and Siena's body, the sense of 'touch' vanished and everything went blank. Numb and nothing.
What the hell?
Nothing was there. The pain, the--what the hell? No pain, but no sensation either--something she'd remembered spending hours to avoid when she'd taken Vale's name time and time again. What had she done? What had she agreed to? She took a shuddering breath, tried to remain calm. Not the first time.
Smoke coiled ever faster off the arm.
The maid's knees buckled for an instant before the power began its finetuning. No sensation in the body meant no balance. A bead of sweat travelled down her temple as her legs regained some feeling, not that she could notice it with her top half being completely blank. Next came the girl's senses. The maid's breaths began to shudder. Concentration kept her silent and feeling returned to Siena's right side. The maid's hand dug firmly into her shoulder.
"Yuuoorr... ssauwss? Thex-tuh," the maid cringed as she tried to form words through only her hearing. Her source. The girl needed to return that thing to whatever text she had been using.
Siena couldn't quite figure out how to stand, left leg feeling nothing, right side suddenly alive again. She wasn't certain whether the numbness was worse or when the eyes would open and close. The maid's words were...she couldn't understand. Siena took another shaky breath, head spinning worse than before. Why wasn't it gone yet? Surely it--
The arm unraveled, peeled away in ribbons of black and red smoke that seemed to waver as though through a heat haze, giving way to the flesh and bone that should have been there. Every conflicting influence muted slightly, but lingering like unwanted guests. The surprise was enough to make Siena lose her focus, her left side buckled, her right side did not. Everything was off, her balance was shot.
"Lrnmhgh!" ...the fuck was that word? She started to topple.
It worked. Perhaps a bit too well. The maid was unable to do much, merely turning the topple into a more sideways affair with the hand still clutching tightly onto the girl's shoulder.
At least she wouldn't feel it when she landed on her other side.
There had been far too many instances of falling in the time since she'd arrived at the estate, and Siena was a little weary of the sensation. Unlike the previous several though, she had something to gain leverage. Siena shot an arm out, palm hitting the bedframe with bruising force as she tried to keep on her feet. It didn't entirely work, only caused the right leg to buckle, her body hitting the frame with a heavy thud as she slipped down, shoulder and torso taking the brunt of the blow. A sensation that wasn't quite pain didn't manage to make it to her left side.
The Arbiter leaned against the frame for stability, tried to keep both herself and the maid at least halfway up, one leg like gelatin, the other folded at an awkward angle beneath her, trapped beneath badly distributed weight. Well...she'd probably feel that in the morning.
The power dissipated and all at once the maid felt exhaustion hit her like a freight train. The hand keeping Siena's shoulder aloft lost its grip. The maid tumbled backwards onto her bottom. "Ah, my apologies."
"'re ye--blrgh." Siena coughed as though to clear her throat to hide the fact that her tongue had not quite agreed with being commanded yet. She tried again, slower, more deliberate to get the words out instead of a slurred imitation of a word. "A-are you okay?"
"I...will be," the servant nodded. It seemed it was the only thing she could do at the moment, thanks to the fatigue wracking her limbs. A shaky hand moved to push herself up but the motion wasn't made quite yet. Embarrassing, really. She just needed a few more moments.
Angel stoo silent throughout the whole process. While she initially was reluctant to have the maid approach Siena, she figured that if she knew what she was doing, then she must've had a power to deal with this situation. And indeed she did, even though the scene unfolding in front of her got her somewhat more worries when Angel saw Siena toppling like a drunkard. Fortunately, it came out for the best, maybe except that bump.
"What... did you do to her?" Angélique inquired as she made her way to the maid to help her up with an extended arm, more out of worry than actual disapproval to see her friend in that state. She waited for the maid to accept her help, expecting her to refuse, given the general behavior of the people around towards Xs.
The maid refused, shaking her head and remaining on the ground. It was unsightly to be helped by a guest. The house staff had an image to uphold. "I stopped the pain. Long enough for her...change to fade."
Angel retracted her arm, giving the woman a respectful nod nonetheless if only to thank her for helping Siena stabilize her powers. All the same...
Chris slowly entered the room but made sure to keep distance from the others as to avoid taking up too much space. "I-is it over? Are you ok SIena?" The answer was obvious, but Chris needed to be sure at least. With the dangers of what had happened vanishing, Chris's concern gradually faded away and was replaced with his typical emotion-concealing scowl.
"I'm f...ine..." Sort of. She would be when she found the strength to get back up--first, she had to sort everything out. Or maybe piece together everything that had happened.
'That arm could be useful if you learn to control it.' A voice that did not sneer, did not convey more than a simple observation. It was right, but that didn't make the idea any more palatable. Instead, she set the idea aside for later, compartmentalized it in the mass of thoughts that wanted to overwhelm her. Other things to focus on. Her attention drifted toward the maid--a dull, cutting pain that spread over her joints. Another way to ground herself.
"Th-Thank you."
The maid brushed herself off and straightened her dress as enough energy finally returned to get her back on her feet. A polite bow to the Arbiter.
"It was my pleasure to be of assistance," she spoke coolly, betraying nothing of her physical state, "Is there anything else I can help with, ma'am?"
Weren't those words familiar? Not Maya or Gerwulf, but plenty of others that she remembered.
The women aren't meant to be seen, the butlers are the ones that take the stage.
"Um...could I get your name?" Because she deserved to be more than "that maid" or "the help", even if Siena would have preferred to avoid the servants altogether.
She nodded. "Everyone calls me Linda."
That was all it took to solidify it. Linda.
"I'm sorry for all the trouble, Linda." Repeated the name, drilled it into her memory. "Th-that should be all we need."
Another nod and another bow, though she paused at the door for one last thing before she departed.
"If I may..." she began cautiously, "I know that I can't prevent you from experimenting with your abilities again. However if you do choose to test out that form another time it would be greatly appreciated if you did it closer to the infirmary."
With that, she was gone.
Watching the maid leave Siena's side, Angélique crouched next to Siena, offering her shoulder to the brunette Arbiter as a crutch to help her stand up and move the girl to her bed. Making sure she looked steady and well, the obsidian-haired Mage moved back from her side, returning to a few feet of distance between herself and her classmate.
"Are you well now, Siena?"
Even if she'd wanted to say something against being pulled up, Siena doubted she would have had the strength or mental fortitude. Another surge of something between bloodlust and...
...remorse? Loneliness? Longing? All three made sense if she thought about it in context with her mark. All three were emotions she didn't want to feel more of.
She felt her weight sink into the mattress, and the brunette gave a quiet nod in response, didn't trust that she could voice an affirmation without anything leaking into her voice.
Angel acknowledged the girl's nod with her own, sighing softly in relief, although the girl's silence was a bit worrying. But considering what happened, she couldn't really blame her for staying quiet. "Alright... well, I suppose everything ended relatively well this time. I... will leave you to rest."
Hesitantly, Angel stepped back to the door, glancing back at the girls inside the room "Have a good night then."
Marcus was waiting outside the room, a fair distance away, but fortunately right in Angel's path. Fortuntely for him at least, because he wanted to at least get some information about what went down. At least whether or not Siena was actually okay, and not whatever she told the maid to make her leave. Plus, he trusted an account from one of his teammates more that one fore the help, despite how rude that sounded in his head.
He turned to stop Angel as she moved past, offering just a three word question: "Is Siena okay?"
Stopped by Marcus, the Aberration turned to him, a blank expression that tried to hide her current feelings on the situation. "Is she ever okay? She's stable... for now." was all that she answered him, her signature whispering swirling around Marcus for him alone.
Marcus sighed softly, trying to hide the unease he felt with her voice directly in his ear. "I can't answer that question."
He looked up, putting that thought out of his head. Her mental state was...less important right now; there would be plenty of time for her to decompress and go through all the stages of coping that she needed to. "Physically, she's fine though?" he asked again. For all their arguments, she was still his roommate, and he was still worried about her.
"She appears to be okay. That maid apparently stops pain for a moment so... she's probably only tired right now. Nothing threatening I believe."
"Alright." Marcus said, looking back towards the door in contemplation. He let a moment pass before he looked back to Angel. "Thanks, Angel. For being there for her."
Angélique offered a faint reassuring smile to the Arbiter "No need to thank me. We're friends, right? It's the least I can do for you guys."
and for what I did to you all.
With a nod, the raven-haired young woman left to her room. She still needed to take a shower after working out all that sweat at the gym earlier.
Marcus offered a thankful smile in return, watching as Angel walked by. He gave one last look at the door, sighed softly to himself, and made his way back to his room. It was better for him to not be there right now. Siena needed a few days to forgive him, or at least that's what he hoped the outcome would be.
Fingers tapping lightly at the ivory keys, at the onyx platforms that raised above them, the melody that came out the right notes, but feeling stilted despite a brisk, clean pacing. Pressing the keys harder did nothing, increasing the tempo did nothing, everything about the flurry of notes felt...wrong. Siena couldn't help but feel a growing frustration at how off it felt, couldn't help but want to slam her hands into the keys when she heard slender digits land on wrong keys where there wouldn't have been mistakes before. The easiest way she could phrase it was...stiff. Sloppy.
The notes slowed to a stop, and Siena wondered if, maybe, she was remembering the sheet music incorrectly. If she was remembering a performance she used to be capable of giving incorrectly. The brunette sighed, swept her hands through her hair to distract herself from the mounting irritation, and poised her fingers over the keys again. Right. Once more.
A low, resounding first chord to start her before the right hand started its usual dance. Quickly, quickly, quickly, a gentle crescendo as they skipped over the keys...but it was wrong. Still stilted, even when the notes were right, still oddly stiff, imperfect, and flat until a greater crescendo, and--
'This is still wrong.'
Her hands came to a stop, fingers landing roughly against neighboring notes, a dissonant sound bringing the piece to a screeching halt. Fantaisie-Impromptu indeed. A quiet breath, a sigh, and the Arbiter poised her fingers over the starting keys again.
"C'mon..."
A melody, a stilted one, was what drew Brent towards the music room. Though robotic and somewhat lacking, the notes were still crisp and clear. Ernie must be practicing for once, instead of doing whatever else he did during the day. Sounded not all that bad as well. Did the rope-boy awaken his talent or something?
Peeking a head in, Brent said, "Yo, Ern- 'ena."
Nice and smooooth.
"Trouble with a new piece?"
A sudden voice caused Siena to push her fingers into the keys, another dissonant chord that filled the room as the girl lifted halfway off the bench, turned her head to see the owner of said voice. Brent. Not exactly the most graceful presentation to give, but the Arbiter was focused on something else.
'Was he about to...?'
Wounded pride? A bit, but it could have been worse. Slowly settling back down onto the bench, Siena shifted to face the boy, attention away from the keys.
"Trouble with an old one, actually."
Did she suspect it? Naw, slip of tongues were common even for a master lecturer like himself. Walking in, the arbiter nodded. "Mmm, don't remember how it goes anymore?"
"I wish." At least if she'd forgotten, it was only a matter of looking at the sheet music or listening to the piece to figure it back out. It was something both more fundamental than knowing the notes and at the same time something that most players couldn't quite put together. "Can't seem to play it right. It sounds...boring, I guess?"
Not entirely boring, just...wrong.
"Eh?" Brent tilted his head to the side. "Let me listen in on this."
"O-Oh, um..." A sheepish expression followed by a faint grimace as Siena thought about playing something that poorly for an audience, even if it was only composed of one person. Instinctively, she wrapped a few strands of hair around her fingertips, this time refraining from pulling. "I'm not sure it'd sound very good."
"Don't think of it as a performance then," he replied, noting that almost-hair-pulling motion again. Nervous. Uncertain. Unknown territory? "Think of it as a...counselling session? Not sure how helpful my advice would be, but hey, a second pair of ears might be useful."
"W-well..." Still uncertain. Sable strings tightened like a noose around pale fingers as Siena considered it. She knew it wasn't likely to improve, and playing through the entire piece, while helpful in technical terms, would likely do little more than aggravate the knowledge that the notes were coming out sounding off. She hesitated a moment longer. "I...suppose that could help."
A pause.
"I'd ask if you wanted to sit, but I guess standing has the merit of a quick walkout."
Brent laughed, knowing full well she wasn't joking. "Yeah, I'll stand. Let's me skip a step in the 'standing ovation' thing, after all. Now, c'mon, Siena."
Show me your fangs.
"Show me your best."
If only her best was something especially worth showing.
"Right..." Turning back to the keys, Siena thought about the piece. The entirety of it, how it should have sounded, how she remembered it being played. Did she even remember whose hands had been the one playing the piece? Fingers poised, the same chord humming, the same dance, the same...
...the same thing wrong, even as she pushed through the movements, through the final frantic surge, through the quiet ending.
'Ugh, I knew it.' At least there wasn't much to be disappointed about when she knew it wouldn't magically repair itself in the span of a minute.
"Yeah..." It wasn't something that he'd run away cowering from, but it'd definitely be a lie if he were to say that what Siena just farted out with her fingers was 'good'. He had heard robots play with more grace, after all, and almost began to reconsider who was doing the teaching between Siena and Ernie when DC came up again. Right, she did manage to play in a more...relaxed fashion before.
"Not sure if it's supposed to be that way, but you were totally tensing and speeding up during all that," Brent said, nodding, "You have something else on your mind, 'ena?"
It seemed like a rhetorical question, but still it seemed to wait for an answer, and there were far to many that she could have given. Something was always on her mind, but it was usually easy to keep them compartmentalized and out of the way. Usually, evidently not being at that moment. Her fingers traced over the keys, lightly, carefully. No sound.
"You're not about to tell me that you don't, are you?"
"Naw, got thoughts up here all the time as well, but, well...if you have problems with getting the right tone out..."
Brent shrugged casually, envisioning just how smooth of an operator he was as he jerked a thumb towards the exit of the music room.
"How 'bout taking a food break before tackling mental gymnastics and music theory again? Haven't eaten yet, right?"
It wasn't hard for her to believe that Brent would have constant thoughts.
Too close.
"Ouch, caught red handed." Giving a faint smile at the suggestion, Siena couldn't deny that he was right. Forgotten again? She wasn't entirely certain--hunger was hard to process when constantly filled with other emotions. Harder still when there wasn't someone setting the schedule for her, telling her exactly what was expected. Pushing herself to her feet, the girl stretched briefly, felt cramped muscles give a breath of relief, and managed to slip out of her space. "But a food break isn't the worst thing to take."
"Mhmm, about time I unveiled my new recipes for your judgement anyways."
Leading her down the stairs, Brent stylishly slid down the mahogany handrail in a flash of inspiration, landing almost-perfectly before continuing his path through the estate. By now, he was familiar with the schedule of the workers within, and, breaking into the kitchen, the arbiter waved in a friendly manner towards Lisa, who was prepping the marinade for dinner. The subnatural maid didn't respond in particular to that, but he was also used to it. Borrowing a polka-dotted apron and rolling up his sleeves, he started up the stove, opened up the fridge, and said, turning back to Siena, "Feel free to take a seat and enjoy the cooking show!"
Like a real pro, he pulled a metal bowl out and spun it fashionably on the tip of his finger, ignoring the fact that it wobbled dangerously.
"Angelic and Ernie both gave me double-thumbs up, so look forward to the taste explosions, 'ena."
Keeping up with Brent was...not as easy as it should have been. Between sliding down the handrail and making a quick entrance into the kitchen, it was all Siena could do to ensure that she wasn't too far behind.
(Didn't that seem familiar?)
Watching the bowl precariously wobble on Brent's finger, the girl offered a laugh, but prepared to step back in case it came crashing down. Food was one thing, having an inanimate object attack her head was another. Keeping that particular thought to herself, Siena settled into a spot, taking a glance around the kitchen. She didn't spend much time in the one at the estate, having had her own meals largely prepared by either Maya or whatever chef happened to be deemed trustworthy enough to be carefully watched while preparing a set of dishes for the night. The girl had only really acquainted herself with the facilities after gaining her white mark, and even then, she'd been discouraged from it. Not her place, they'd said. Not her job.
"Well, hopefully your cooking sense is a little better than your apron choice," Siena teased while ignoring thoughts of an old, spacious kitchen that didn't see enough use. "Polka dots? With that outfit? Such a faux pas."
"Faux pas?" Brent quirked an eyebrow as he set the bowl down, before giving the apron a little twirl. Was it really that bad? Of course it wasn't! "Non, mademoiselle," he spoke, utilizing rusty French from what felt like a lifetime ago, "c'est avant-garde. Tres bien!"
And with that, the entirety of his French was exhausted. To distract himself from his linguistic failures, the arbiter got to work instead on heating the oil and preparing the batter, setting aside tall glass cups as he cracked eggs and whisked mixtures. As he did so, he asked, "Right, how were those books anyways, Siena? Got around to finishing them all yet?"
"Snrk..." Too late to stop the small peels of laughter from trying to break free, even with both hands clapped over her mouth in a response. Stifling as much of the laughter as she could, the brunette didn't have a chance to try and flex what French she could remember--would it even have been all that useful? Most of it was in relation to so-called "high culture", but what was fashion if not part of that circle?
As she regained her breath, the girl watched the proceedings with interest--cooking for herself...it would be nice to do that without having to cheat her way through most of it. She made a mental note to look into finding cookbooks before an alarm buzzed in the back of her head--answer. Right. "O-Oh! Y-Yeah."
After I picked them all up.
"About two trips more worth of them too."
Two more trips?
Brent stopped halfway through juggling the wooden spice grinders, bamboozled by SIena's reading speed. "Wait," the arbiter said, "When did you even find the time to read through all that?"
Was that what she was doing while flat-out not sleeping? Regaining his own momentum once by with some Hibachi juggling techniques that had was basically pointless in terms of the actual task at hand, the arbiter continued, "Actually, nevermind that. Found anything recommendable, Master Librarian?"
"That depends, how much Russian do you read?" A half-joking question. The girl thought back about what she had read, most of it either educational or classical works. Not entirely surprising, if a little disappointing. There were only so many times that one could read the same, tired titles with too-tedious description. "Though they seem to really like Byronic heroes..."
"Uh..." A pause. Keep it cool? Naw. "Babushka, blin, blyad, vodka," Brent listed off, as he pulled marinated deer from the metal bowl and began to sear them, three at a time, "Not enough to make a story out of, eh? And geez, they like those types? Wonder if that's the maids' interest or Zhang's...thoughts?"
"Women, food, cursing, and drugs? I thought that was the popular thing in media now," Siena joked with a slight shrug of her shoulders. It was a vague idea at best, but Siena couldn't claim to know more than those few words when it came to listening to the language. Another mental note to look into trying to listen to the languages as she tried to read them. It would be easier to manage with the suppression cuff on her ankle. "But I guess it might be both? Loads of old classics and all. I'm surprised there's as much foreign stuff as there is."
"Grandmothers, pancakes, procreation, and local specialties? Maybe some demented documentary film," Brent shot back, flipping the venison onto the raw side with a flick of the wrist. "Really makes you wonder if all those texts are just for collecting purposes, huh? Can't imagine most people taking an interest in this, unless servitude is the ultimate destination of literature and linguistics degrees."
"I certainly hope it's for collection purposes," Siena claimed. "Depressing images aside, there's too much to believe any average person would get through all that." Hell, even if she didn't have the suppression cuff, the girl was certain it would have taken quite some time to get through the breadth she'd found in the library. Instinctively, her hand fell to the phone in her pocket, fingers tracing the screen for a moment, thinking of her own abilities. "Even if I cheat, it gets tedious."
"Cheat?" Brent tried to recall what was explained before, but instead, he just flipped a slice of venison onto the table. Lightning quick, his fingers snatched it off and popped it into his mouth, quickly chewing and then swallowing, even as hot juices coated his tongue.
"Taste test," the arbiter said, using tongs to extract the others, "Definitely not a mistake there. It's really good. You'll like it. So....anyways, you got that super speed reading thing going on too then? Gotta ask, that detract from the fun of reading at all?"
'D-Doesn't that hurt...?' It was the only thought that could really form when she watched Brent put what was probably a piping hot piece of meat into his mouth. A few blinks, a small nod of acknowledgement that Siena didn't quite process in response to the claim of a taste test. That certainly did not go without some sort of injury.
...but it was probably better not to bring that up.
"Hm...I don't think it does." Because it wasn't quite like skimming over things or reading without considering anything. "I don't miss anything, and it goes as quickly as I can process it, so I guess it's kind of like reading as quickly as you can think instead of having to process the words."
"Waow, so you get a whole six-hours of satisfaction within minutes?" Brent whistled, sticking the slices of meat on a skewer before wrapping partially melted slices of cheese around it. "Sounds pretty winning, if you ask me. The same work for comics?"
"Sort of?" Giving a faint shrug of her shoulders, the girl thought about it. Transcriptions of comics were easy, but unlike words, pictures didn't have quite the same quickness. "The dialogue gets through faster than the pictures. It's kind of like reading subtitles on a movie before the actors say the lines. Still faster than usual, but not as fast as if I read the comic script instead."
"Mind boggling stuff," he nodded, pulling the cheese-wrapped venison kebab out of the batter mix. Letting the excess batter drip out, the arbiter transferred it to the hot oil quickly. One done. "So basically, comics would just be straight up confusing for you then? Reading the future before seeing it and all?"
"I wouldn't say entirely confusing..." Though it certainly wasn't as enjoyable as being able to push through words, that was undeniable. It was something that Siena was starting to realize that she'd taken for granted--she'd never thought twice about the entire experience of reading after discovering that particular aspect of her power. It had always been pushing forward to read more to gain a larger pool more than finding pleasure after that. "Inconvenient would be a little closer to the mark. Piecing it together is clumsier and slower, but comics are usually simple enough that the difference isn't too bad."
Which, in the end, was more important, wasn't it?
"I hadn't really thought of it that much before though."
"Have you just been, well...speed reading the entire time? No 'curl up by the hearth with a kettle of hot chocolate and a thick book'?"
"Um...yeah, I guess I have." The words weren't an entirely pleasant revelation for Siena to come across. Her gaze fell slightly, a faint furrow of the brow the most that she allowed through the filters. The expression was gone as quickly as it had come, and her attention returned to the cooking process. "It's weird to think about it that way."
"Mmm, ever tried turning it off?" That should be long enough. Pulling the corndog out of the hot oil, Brent patted down the excess oil with a paper towel, presenting it to Siena. "Try this out, 'ena. Got Angelic excited enough that she thought I could run a restaurant with this alone."
"W-well...no, not really." Another revelation that Siena could have gone without, but it was quickly pushed aside by the presentation of-- "Th-thanks! Um...a corndog, right?"
It didn't really look the same in the strictest sense of the word, but the general composition seemed about right. Meat, cheese, a type of breaded coating...maybe it was some new variation of it? Memories of choking on the previous one came to mind. Not exactly the most welcoming of thoughts, but it wasn't as though the flavor had been unpleasant. Cautiously taking the food by the stick, Siena could feel the residual heat rolling off of the freshly fried item.
"Well, now that you've given it such high reviews..." Siena chuckled, quietly acknowledging that it certainly smelled better than the previous incarnation that he'd brought. That said, it certainly smelled better than anything that either Maya or Gerwulf had ever managed to put together on their own. Without giving herself time to think further, the girl took a careful bite, scalded her tongue a bit, but was otherwise found herself pleasantly surprised at the onset of flavor. Savory, warm, but not lacking in texture. Better, by far, than her usual fare. Pulling the skewer away led only to a few strings of cheese stretching, then drooping precariously.
"Mnps...!" A muffled attempt of "oops" and a quick motion to try and clear the strands, which did little more than transfer the cheese from the air onto her fingers.
Smooth.
"Oh, here," Brent leaned forward with a towel, gingerly taking Siena's hand and wiping the melted cheese off. WIth one hand occupied and enough dining manners to probably not lick the cheese off her fingers herself, his action was obviously the most practical one, right?
'U-Um...!'
The sound did not manage to make it out of Siena's throat. Not that the contact was odd for her, far from it, but that had been with servants. People that were paid to do things like that to keep her from being unsightly, not with her peers. Immediately, her mind reeled back, thought to lessons with Maya about how to use small actions, little twists and turns of the phrase coupled with the faintest brushes to evoke certain emotions. To control a situation.
It was easier to think of the action in that light, so she did exactly that.
"O-Oh, th...thanks." Swallowing her breath and choking it with a smile, Siena sorted the emotional response into its appropriate place. Better to think of it the same way that she would have used the action.
"No problem," Brent waved, settling back to the task of preparing the next variety of corndogs, "Finish it off and tell me what you think, eh?" One round had been easy enough. Simple, not too strenuous, and not more than what Siena usually went for. Two had been plenty for her small frame and typical habits. Three had reached a limit--not entirely uncomfortable, but she wouldn't have enjoyed more. At three rounds, Siena doubted she could take more, had hoped that Brent was done offering her skewers of meat. Hell, she hadn't even finished the third one--only halfway through, and the girl had to come to the decision that she couldn't
That said, Siena had still willed herself to at least try the last one.
'Too full...' The thought was unfortunately more vocal than the ones about enjoying the sweet, creamy flavor that coated her tongue, an odd cacophany of hot and cool. Taking the first bite was probably a mistake--no choice but to finish it now.
"Do people really eat this much?"
Wow. She actually was packing it away. Though Angelic had scarfed it down within minutes, and Siena looked like she was about to burst after the third one, it was still remarkable, seeing her eat that much. Compared to salads and all that weak, vegetarian garbage, he'd have half-expected her to turn away the food in fear of gaining weight...which would have been a good thing regardless.
"They're a bit bigger than normal," Brent admitted, "But I've seen people pack away 4 corndogs at a time quite easily. And that's not even considering how much people can eat in, you know, All You Can Eat sushi joints. Maybe you're just used to being half-starved?"
"F-f...four of them..." Easily. She could feel her stomach turn at the thought of trying to eat four, regretted thinking about it, and then regretted so much as imagining the idea of eating more than that. Motivations aside, there were some things that Siena simply couldn't feasibly do. And here she was with one half eaten one and another with a bite taken out of it and neither anywhere close to fitting into her already packed stomach. "I think being half-starved is--w-wait, a...all you can eat...sushi?"
"You gonna finish those? If not, I can," Brent offered, eyeing what remained still. What gave him pause, though, was Siena's surprise at AYCE sushi. Wasn't that fairly common? There were pricey variations of that, after all, places that charged $30 to $50 per person, so...
"Uh, yeah, all you can eat sushi," the arbiter said, "Like...you know?"
"O-Oh, thanks." Siena took the offered escape from inevitable stomach rupturing, offering the remaining skewers before having to pause herself. Another thing she didn't know. It was like McDonald's all over again. A flicker of something between confusion and embarrassment that she just as quickly smothered out.
"E-er..." No. She didn't know. Her experience with sushi itself was limited, having only had it a grand total of two times, both times by the same chef and both times with omakase service. The bill, as she had learned later, had run higher than the normal fare. Not exactly something that she would think could urn a profit in any "all you can eat" settings. "W-well, um..." No. Not at all.
Wait...huh?
"Like, alright," Brent nodded, taking some time to finish off the fried ice cream dog first, "It's basically like this. All You Can Eat sushi is where they replace quality with quantity. You pay a fee right off the bat, get two hours on your table, and order whatever the hell you want. You eat all that until you hopefully got more than your money's worth, and then you leave. Pretty simple, yah?"
A pause.
"Pretty sure Crimen Culpae has a place like that. I'll show you some time! Really, you haven't lived until you tried it at least once."
Quantity over quality didn't exactly seem like the wisest idea when it came to eating anything raw, but as long as it was safe, then Siena didn't quite have anything to complain about. The statement was enough to have everything else click into place. Removing the cost of a personal chef, for one thing, as well as cuting away the cost of ingredients, increasing the volume of customers--including the ones like you?--and it all made that much more sense.
"Er...somehow I feel like that'd be a poor investment on my part." Half-joking, but entirely plausible. Eating more than what she'd already had so far? In one sitting? Impossible. "Getting my money's worth in that situation sounds like a pipe dream for me."
"No worries, your stomach's probably just shrivelled up," Brent replied airily, tossing in random pseudo-science. "I'm sure if you regularly eat normal amounts of food, you eventually be able to pack more in there. And after that, you can totally squeeze value out of a $15 fee!"
'I think my stomach is the least of my worries there.' But she didn't voice that particular thought. Didn't want to relive memories of being taught precisely how to eat. Precisely how much to eat. Precisely how to make herself all the more a lady while Gerwulf observed the etiquette lessons with an expression that made it clear he didn't entirely approve.
Said lessons were useful at that moment, as Siena painted a smile on her face at the suggestion. A light teasing note entering her voice--was it wise to remind herself? It didn't matter.
"Is that a not-so-subtle way of suggesting I go off the water-into-air diet?"
"Made it real easy for me before," the arbiter said, remembering Wisford once more, "But yeah, the more I think about it, the more I'm like...'yo, 'ena, you're my size except half my weight. That's hella unhealthy, ain't it?' So hm, probably would help if you replaced air with meat. Not gonna have to fit in corsets any time soon, princess."
"With no one to help tie it from behind? Perish the thought."
"'No one'?" Brent quirked a brow. "Your Highness, though this will surely be an arduous test of my character, if you ask of me to break your ribs with that infernal waist-slimming device for the sake of fashion, I will most definitely abide."
"For the sake of fashion? Is that what the newest beachwear is? Broken ribs and too many layers to count?" It was hard to keep any semblance of a straight face, but Siena was better at playing a part than most. "You learn something new every day."
"Gotta make sacrifices to remain fab, 'ena," Brent replied, giving his polka-dots apron another twirl.
"I don't think a tan is something I need to sacrifice."
"Well, Winter's coming soon," he grinned, "Better grab that tan before all this sun's replaced by sleet and snow."
"Then I suppose it's a good thing that someone is trying to organize a beach party.over the weekend." Step back. Siena did just that, let herself take a step away from being too comfortable. You aren't supposed to care. She kept the same, playful tone. "You think we'll be snowed out of that?"
"A beach party is still a beach party with or without the sun," Brent said, "And hey, if it comes to that, I'm sure we have enough of a variety of powers to make an outdoors sauna, so it's not like your swimsuit debut will be wasted."
Her what?
"My swimsuit debut?" The idea was vaguely alarming, but she kept it off her face as best as possible. Sure, her swimsuit was up to Maya's standards, but Siena's confidence was nowhere near her caretaker's. "I think a summer dress is just as good for the beach."
"Wouldn't the dress get wet in the water though?"
"...do...do I have to get in the water?"
"Isn't that the while point of beach parties? Why else would you go to a beach to party?"
A flash of anxiety, a harsh mental acknowledgement that she didn't know exactly what to expect at a beach party. That being at the beach had been a one-time ordeal, and that had been effectively marked with stomping out anything before it could start. Not supposed to care.
"Atmosphere? The ocean's nice to look at."
Real smooth.
"Are you afraid of water or something?"
There was something else down there, a flicker that had not gone unnoticed, but he wasn't here to pick at scabs. Not today.
No. Swimming was easy, she'd done that comfortably in the early morning hours when she doubted anyone would be awake. It would be hard to keep that facade up in the future. Her fingers tangled themselves into loosely hanging hair. Twist, tighten, hold.
"Not exactly..." A fake grimace here, likely only believable because she had something else to grimace about. "A lot of 'don't go into the ocean' stories and all."
Weren't there also stories about Stranger Danger that people no longer heeded when they were grown? Or stories of the dangers of being outdoors at all? Razors in Halloween candy? Stories that basically told kids to give up on a fun experience and just be docile little flesh puppets?
But there may have been a simpler explanation for Siena's wariness of the ocean. It was more dangerous than a pool, and she was going to be in a group of people who may not be all that chopper. Perhaps the trepidation there then, laid in the fact that her sources may be damaged while frolicking in salt water.
In that case then...
"Fine fine, I guess you can build sand castles or split watermelons or stuff like that," Brent grumbled, faking a pout. "Suppose the fair skin of the princess does not deserve to be scarred by the Sun's lecherous gaze after all."
"You sound like you're disappointed in that outcome. Is getting in the water that important?" The question was only half-joking. Would it have been unsightly to show up in a summer dress to a beach party? Would it have been an insult? There were too many questions that Siena didn't know the answer to, too many possibilities that were worse than having to fake being comfortable for a few hours out of the day. Keep smiling. "I'm not going to be the odd one out, am I?"
"I'm not sure who else would go into it wearing a summer dress specifically," Brent said, "But I'm fairly certain that not everyone who wears a swimsuit there will actually get in the water."
"It's like, you know, just a dress code sorta deal? But not really? ...hm, perhaps it's just for showing off? So not totes necessary, but hey, if ya got it, flaunt it."
Hair grew taut, started to snap as her fingers tangled themselves more eagerly. She most certainly did not have it to flaunt. A coat, clothes more suited for grabbing the eye, a regimen of putting herself together in front of the mirror in the hours before anyone woke--wasn't it all to cover the fact that no, she did not have it?
She kept smiling, felt it trying to falter and slip through her fingers like a name she was starting to lose.
"I guess that makes sense." The idea of heading to the party was starting to sound less and less appealing with each passing thought. Maybe she wouldn't be missed if she didn't make an appearance--she'd certainly managed to alienate herself from most of the people that might have cared, after all. You're not supposed to care. The Arbiter did her best to keep the casual, friendly tone. "I didn't think typical parties still had a dress code."
"Mob mentality," Brent replied, shrugging, "And Hollywood stereotypes. Beach parties probably take the form of guys with six-packs wearing speedos, while girls with hourglass figures wear bikinis. The common image, I guess."
But he noted that habit once more. Pulling. Nervous? Feeling the pressure of the situation? Or something deeper? An issue of self-esteem then? That sounded likely to people who wallowed in self-loathing, didn't it? Ah, he fucked up once more. Somehow, his friendship with Siena, this codependent relationship, had just transformed into a mountain full of landmines. No terrain. Just goddamn landmines.
Which meant he'd have to learn how to fly, huh?
"But," the arbiter continued, leaning forward on the stove, "y-"
A mistake. He leaned on the stove, one hand for stability while the induction stove was still hot.
"OH FUCK!"
"Shit."
Before she could think, Siena could feel her hand wrenching from its place, her body moving before her head registered the words. One hand already in her pocket, cellphone flicked on, sources already flickering by in rapid succession before a tap on a bookmark led her to a specific name, eyes darting down to view the words, the circle coming to life, crimson bleeding into grey until it took over entirely, the typical detachment accompanied it as the letters peeled from their place, settling onto her neck.
"Jesus, Brent." The words were quiet, the smile gone, a film of concern more real than she wanted it to be. "Let me see."
A wince. It was just a burn. He had been shot before and didn't cry out like that. He had a gun vaporize in his hand and didn't cry out like that. It was the surprise, really. It wasn't really the pain that caused it. Brent wasn't that weak, and the injury couldn't have been that bad.
"No, no, I'm fine, really."
"Yeah, right, I think I'll be the judge of that." Crimson eyes flicked up instinctively, locked for a moment onto amethyst ones before Siena remembered. Not hers. She flicked them away, focused instead on the hand. It was a different feeling, not having a route to take for manipulation. She used to reach for the injuries, held them still until someone showed up with medicine. After the mark, she'd stopped. They both had. "It won't hurt to let me see it."
"...alright."
Removing the hand from his chest, Brent brought it forward, doing his best to not show the pain that throbbed even now. Around the base of his thumb was red flesh, angry, skin burned off. It looked pretty bad after all, huh? But even at that point, the arbiter nodded.
"See? Not that bad."
"Do all males have to play tough?" She refrained from mentioning how easy it was to sense the pain with her mark on her side. How easy it was to imagine each furious throb, each numbing sting despite not actually feeling it. Instead, her eyes swept over the injury. Not life-threatening, of course, but still painful. She'd picked the wrong name to start, but it had been instinct. Usually, injuries weren't minor ones. "Well, for the time being, let me just..."
Carefully, she let herself mold the sensation that prickled at the corner of her consciousness, felt it like warmth that didn't belong to her. Leave sensation, take away pain. Such a tricky maneuver, even with all her practice. Little by little, the bookworm siphoned the pain away, left only the sensation--it was so much easier when there was nothing else to focus on. Just what she was good at. How many times had she done this before?
"It's not much for healing, so don't poke at it." And already Siena was tapping through the sources on her phone, seeking something that was better than what she was so familiar with. "'m sure I've got someone that can fix that in here."
That brought an unexpected laugh out of Brent. It was a manly, wasn't it, to hide pain and spurn treatment. But that wasn't it.
"No," the arbiter said, watching her eyes scan the injury dutifully, her own gaze siphoning away the pain until all that remained was a strange numbness, a void where the throbbing would be, "It's just something I do."
A mistake, but seeing this side of Siena, one that immediately sprang into action...dammit, he'll have to put his own best foot forward now. Keeping his hand palm-up, Brent waited for the continuation of her treatment, enamored by that focus tinged with desperation, set in with crimson.
"What a pretty telegraph."
There's the one. She'd never been much good at healing others, finding regenerative abilities bestowed on her own body to be more effective at removing injuries without issue. Of course, the ones that were capable of more never stuck around for long enough to fully heal a serious wound, but it wasn't as though she was trying to heal someone's arm from falling off. Well, as long as sh--
'H-Huh?'
Siena blinked once in surprise at Brent's comment, but didn't allow her focus to break for longer than that. Time for questions later. Instead, a faint, purple glow settled in its usual formation, a name she didn't like being able to pull settling in its place on her neck, the crimson from her right eye seeming to drain away into gold. Odd, Siena thought in the back of her head. This mark had grey eyes, but the eyes had always turned up gold. Skonos had been the first one to drag Siena into realizing how much it hurt to care more than she should have.
How bitterly fitting it was that of all the true healers in her collection, Siena had only ever settled comfortably into the one that couldn't fix herself.
With no time to spare on the thought, the girl had the second ability set to work, tapping into the ability of the flesh to mend itself. The work was slower than usual--no doubt a result of carrying Victor's name beside Sara's own--but it held steady under Siena's guide. Small injuries were easy. The only thing she really knew she could fix.
From crimson to gold, her eyes continued to shift and melt, a chameleon-esque transformation that was fascinating to behold. It really was hypnotizing, how much attention such an easily overlooked detail could draw once it was actually noticed. And, as that new 'power' took hold, he could feel it a bit more distinctively now. Fatigue building up from the rest of his body, his own energy drained to regenerate the tissue lost due to the injury. There was no doubt a proper way to do it, one that wouldn't leave a scar, but this bubbling of the flesh, this sewing of the skin, this was worth remembering.
Not that he could forget how gross that looked. In a way, he may have even preferred drinking Christmas's blood instead of watching this occur over the span of minutes.
But when the healing was done, leaving only a small red mark where his skin had initially made contact with the stove, Brent retracted his hand and marvelled at it. There was still that strange sensation of a phantom pain, as if his own mind couldn't comprehend that the wound disappeared so quickly, but the arbiter could deal with that easily enough.
"Thanks, 'ena."
There was more to be said, but he had already blurted out enough crap to last the day.
"I-it was nothing." Lie. Skonos had never been nothing, and though she'd been able to silence Victor's heart, it had not been so easy to do so with Sara. It left her drained in more aspects than one. Fatigue was easy enough to set aside, but everything else. Bitterness, frustration, betrayal, that damnable affection that couldn't attach itself to anything. Not hers.
She'd never liked healing.
And they were gone. First Skonos, then Victor almost immediately after, colors escaping from her eyes, leaving it with the usual, waiting grey. Left with what remained, Siena gave a small shrug of her shoulders, hid away what it would cost her later. "Being able to do anything isn't so great if you can't do something this minor."
If he blinked, he'd have missed it, so he didn't blink. It was another alluring shift of colors, crimson-gold transforming back into storm-gray as her power receded, Siena back to being...Siena. "But you can do something this minor, as well as a whole host of not-so-minor things," Brent smiled, "So you are pretty great after all. Infinite versatility and endless combinations."
A pause. This wasn't envy, not really. He made his peace with his own limitations some time back.
"Compared to just objects and all, yah know?"
"It's..." Not that great. Tiring. Draining. More pain than it was worth. "...only as useful as I can make it." A weak smile, a truth that managed to wrench free before she could stop it. "I think I'd probably be better with objects than names."
"Sounds like that applies to any power."
A longer pause. Digesting that fragment. A reveal that he already understood. She had shared such a sentiment before, hadn't she? Lost track of herself in the identities she took to rein in so many different powers. Must have thought that objects were so much similar. Unthinking and immobile. Clearly defined and utterly truthful. Black and whites instead of a gallery of grays.
"It's difficult in its own way," Brent replied, looking off to the side, "Sorry for making you use it though, considering how uncomfortable it seems for you."
"Hm? It was nothing." She reiterated the lie, knew that saying it out loud made it easier for her to believe. Carefully, she imitated the best attempt at a reassuring smile she could give. "You could hardly make me use it. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have."
It was something. And that smile was something too close to his own. What, would she repeat it until it was real, and lose what she had before? Once again, Brent found himself on the edge. And once again, he recalled that night with Marcus, looking out by the balcony, unwilling to dig closer.
And once again, he pushed forwards, ever so slightly.
"Are you sure it was nothing?" Nothing but concern. Concern and an ugly, black doubt.
The inquiry was different. She didn't need any god-given or carefully cultivated prowess in reading people to be able to feel it. It was too precise, the question that she didn't have a real answer prepared for. Siena knew the best she could do was continue to offer platitudes about it. Certainly. It was nothing. Absolutely. All worthless answers. It brought it a surge of emotions that Siena hadn't been able to set aside, and her breath caught. Too many at once. All at once, a conflicting desire to detach and another to stay.
Was it a mistake?
"I'm sure." Liar. She tried to find an easier distraction. "It's not like you had me regrow your finger or anything."
Brent closed his eyes. This was just a blink. A reset. He opened them once more, and the reality of the situation didn't change at all.
"Alright," he found himself saying, no plans on diving further, "Just making sure. Real though, at that point, I may as well just crawl over to Sander and ask him if I could get some of Christmas's HP pots."
He found himself laughing as always, peals naturally proliferating. So mutual trust still only got so far, huh? They weren't close enough to share their traumas without turning to violence, and they weren't close enough to believe that the other would just accept a fault if it was exposed.
"Welp, I'll make sure never to burn myself with my own stupidity again, 'ena, even if it's no real problem for you."
Didn't mean he was going to fold though.
'He doesn't believe you.'I'm not blind.'Certainly not smart.'
"I don't suggest making it a regular thing, but people are allowed to make mistakes." Just not her...but she didn't count, and she never really had as far as her surroundings had gone. The expression faltered as Siena desperately pushed the brewing storm into its place. Things she could figure out later. "Besides, how else am I supposed to get easy practice healing?"
Something nearly broke. Cracks on the inside that tried to spread to the out. Not hers, she reminded herself.
"That's certainly one way to look at it," Brent laughed. The wrong way. Their powers didn't increase just through training and constant usage. His own limitations proved that a long time ago. "Doesn't mean I'll be coming to you for every cut and scrape though! Boys gotta be tough and all."
The cracks spread, and she knew she couldn't hold them much longer. If they managed to reach the mask--'It's over.' Siena smoothed the mask, did her best to hold every warring thought at bay. A fight or flight response took hold, a violent, icy grip that pierced into her. Shouldn't have taken both.
"I guess I should have expected as much from you." The words came out more stable than she'd expected--a boon, perhaps, from the usual hollow gouges that Victor left in his wake. "In any case, I should probably check if I actually have anything I can wear to a beach."
What the fuck kind of excuse was that?!
"Or if I can still fit in them after all that food." A poor distraction, but the cracks were spreading fast, and she needed to stop, ground herself. Her weight shifted back slightly as Sara's weight pushed down on her. Another hefty crack.
A sigh and a tired smile.
Yeah, go get 'em, 'ena. Willing to bet you'd look good in anything."
A dark doubt that rose in the back of the girl's head that she didn't voice in favor of an escape route. Her gaze turned away momentarily before the response came.
"U-Um, thanks for the vote of confidence." It was one more than usual. Siena flashed the last smile she could. Any longer, and she would be stuck sorting through everything out in the open. "I'll see you later, Brent."
Sander found himself walking deeper and deeper into the woods, the cold night air nibbling at the exposed patches on his skin, its bite heightened by the lingering heat of the alcohol. In hindsight, he should have brought a thicker coat. A bit too late to turn around though, as he had been walking for a good while now. So far, it was only him, strolling alone on the narrow trail. No humans around. No guards. The cold was slowly reaching a point where it was unbearable, but Sander didn’t turn back.
He needed to ask about Christmas. The guards must know something, but he couldn’t find any within the mansion. There were staffs, but he didn’t think they knew anything.
They would come for him if he tried to escape. They always did. So Sander ignored the biting cold on his arms and kept walking.
As he expected two guards approached, their scents detectable even before he could see or hear them. When they finally came into view from either side of him, their weapons were raised, tension thick on their shoulders.
”Stop! Where are you going?” the soldier on the left called out, leveling his weapon at Sander’s head.
It took them long enough.
Sander turned, his throat suddenly too dry as he stared down the barrels of a rifle. He did not raise his hands.
“Where’s Christmas? Uh…Last name’s Halvost. He’s my roommate. Where is he?” -Sander spoke quickly, voice straining when the cold began to numb his jaws.
The guard being addressed didn’t answer, instead curling his finger over the trigger of the gun.
”Head back to the mansion if you have no business out here.”
“Tell me where he is. Please.” – His breaths hitched, but Sander held his ground.
The second soldier paused, then seemed to relent, regarding Sander with suspicion, but more willing to humor the question.
”…Andie, keep your gun on him,” he called out, removing a hand from his to pull out his phone. The first half of the name seemed unique enough to not need the student ID and his suspicion proved accurate. There was only one student with that name. A quick check of status and location revealed the person in question was both alive and in transit to their location. He pocketed the phone, settling back into a ready firearm stance against Sander. ”He’s fine. On the way here. That answer your question?”
“W-Why did you take him?” -Relief flooded his system, only for Sander to notice a knot of rage at the pit of his stomach.
The question toed the line of both soldiers’ tolerance, but the same one who had searched up the information sighed, exasperation in his voice. ”Director ordered him left behind to heal the survivors. Now get back to the mansion.”
Sander remembered the ruins of DC. Too many deaths. Far more were injured. What the hell did they do to Christmas so that his power would be enough?
“Aren’t you supposed to protect him?”
On unsteady feet, Sander took a few steps forward, the building rage dulled old fears and past mistakes. Just so he could repeat them, all over again.
”He’s protected. Now step back unless you want to get shot.”
The warning merely went unheeded as Sander continued marching ahead, closing the distance between him and the soldiers.
“Why?” -The question was shaky, laced with desperation and frustration.
Before the less amicable of the two could fire, the relatively kinder soldier whipped the butt of his rifle into Sander’s jaw, the force sharp and precise from years of military training. It sent the lanky boy sprawling onto his back and the barrels of two guns approached inches from his face.
”Back to the mansion. Don’t make me say it again.”
The impact was enough for him to see stars and taste copper, then the fall that followed took the fight out of him completely. Sander only looked up at the guns, breaths shallow and rapid.
”Go on. Back to the mansion. Your friend’ll be here later.” The soldier didn’t offer him a hand up, but at least stepped back and gave Sander room to sit up and leave.
Sander swallowed down a gulp of cold air, its taste tainted by the copper of his own blood. No fire could ignite from this, so his rage fizzled out, ashen in his chest. Pain was still radiating from the tender patch on one side of his jaw, making the ground swivel dangerously beneath his feet as he stood up.
Without another word, the blood mage turned and complied, the weight of defeat heavy on the curve of his shoulders. He reached for his left wrist, blunt nails digging into where the ribbon no longer was.
Christmas had woken up to the feeling of pins and needles. His first thought was that his legs and arms had fallen asleep, but when he finally opened his eyes the reality terrified him more than any nightmares. IV stands stood like sentries to his right—four, five, six of them taped to his right arm while his left arm was dotted uniformly with red pricks, two to three in a batch and some batches had been covered in gauze while others freshly pierced. The air seemed fuzzy and bright. White—like he was in the center of a glittering cloud, and a tingling current was running lightly through him. His power, but why—
He started to panic, started to move. And the nails in the coffin were the straps holding his torso and legs down to the bed, the handcuffs locking him to the bedframe. He thought he made a mumbling noise or a weak scream, but a doctor leaned over him, something like pity and fear in the aging man’s blue eyes before he inserted a syringe into the boy’s arm, ignoring the small whimper that reflexively came from the battered healer.
”Don’t move,” was the order that sounded like a blaring foghorn in Christmas’s mind. He thought he was starting to cry. Felt the shuddering of his chest as the sobs came hand-in-hand with the panic. But that’s when he heard the others.
Crying. Sobbing. Wailing. Screaming. People surrounded him on their own beds, bloody and broken, and he could feel his power streaming around them.
The room was cavernous and when he finally found the nerve to turn his head, he could barely see the far end of it. So many people, and every so often a healed patient would be wheeled out to be replaced by another. But none of them were the students from his class. Not even a vaguely familiar face. Especially not Sander. Wherever he was, he was alone.
He felt himself breathing faster, the coiling in his guts tightening to a sheer horror. It felt like he had missed an apocalypse and the world he knew was gone. The doctor had just taken out the syringe, but the man said something Christmas couldn’t hear. His small frame pushed against the heavy leather straps holding him down and more doctors rushed to his side. One brought a syringe of clear liquid that he remembered seeing the night of his capture—it felt like years ago.
He woke up again to the sound of gravel rolling beneath tires and the steady rumbling of a car, body too weak to protest anymore. Bandages wrapped around his arms and legs like clothes, the aftermath of healing so many at once. There was no Sander to comfort him. There was no one else in the truck that he knew, period. Just soldiers watching his bed, guns at the ready, and not even these soldiers were any he had seen at the Institute.
Stress built into tears and tears into the only thought he could manage. He pulled the sheets of the hospital bed over his head, the motion slow and unsteady. It was an old childhood habit whenever he no longer wanted to face doors locked from the outside and barred windows. Whenever he no longer wanted to face his mother. One of the many children’s books she illustrated had taught the younger Christmas the lesson that he could hide from monsters under the sheets. With a thin blanket over his head and soldiers surrounding him, it took Christmas only seconds to realize he couldn’t hide if the monster was him.
They had placed him in a wheelchair when he proved too unsteady to walk, the handicap aide folded up in the corner like someone had expected the problem. Beach sand and forest dirt rolled beneath the wheels now, and Christmas had resigned himself to whatever fate they had in store. Underneath the constant panic that had become familiar now, he felt small and—most of all—alone.
The feeling brought with it how terribly he missed Sander, but no one seemed to notice when he started sniffling in his chair.
Sander noticed the scent first. It was late enough that he would be out and about, but not yet hungry enough for lunch, so he was in his room, drying his hair idly with a towel. A hand reached for the blooming bruise on his cheek, fingers testing the tender spot. It still ached, though the black splotch had faded to an ugly yellow.
He frowned at the sight of him in the mirror. Bruised and tired and obviously sleep-deprived. But at least his Stigma was quiet, and his face didn’t hurt anymore. The soldiers had already said Christmas would be here soon, but Sander had been waiting for two full days. ‘Soon’ is not enough. He needed to ask again.
Then the coffee scent prickled his senses. He turned his head, eyes wide.
He was here.
Sander only had enough mind to grab the nearby shirt and throw it on, fingers fumbling to do the buttons as he raced down the stairs, hair still damp from the shower. He made it all the way into the courtyard, where Christmas was being wheeled in by several soldiers. Uncaring of the sharp prickles of gravel underneath his feet, Sander ran toward the entourage, a tentative smile lighting up his features.
Rapid footsteps caught the healer’s attention and he looked up, a rush of emotion started crashing into him at the sight of Sander, disheveled, bruised, and fresh from a shower running up to meet the procession of guards. He didn’t realize it, but he was already pushing himself out of the chair, stumbling forward on weak, unsteady legs to reach Sander because he was here as long as Sander was.
Before Christmas’ legs could give out, Sander was already there, pulling the blond boy into his arms. The scent of coffee was too thick, still tempting, but Sander found that it meant more than just fuel for his power. Far more. It meant life. It meant something between him and Christmas that neither had defined. And he was surprisingly fine with that.
“I miss you.” -Sander mumbled, breathing the shaky words onto the crown of Christmas’ head.
The smaller boy was trembling, too many words and emotions he couldn’t sift through in time, but he felt the same. Breaths hitched in his throat, so Christmas held onto Sander instead, hands clinging desperately to the back of Sander’s shirt. He pressed his face against the unbuttoned collar, feeling the tears well up at the familiar warmth of Sander’s body.
One of the nearby soldiers scoffed with a short breath out of his nose, but he turned and left after confirming the location once more, the remainder of the group following suit now that they had delivered the healer to the designated drop-off point.
With barely a care to his surroundings, Sander just focused on the person in his arms, squeezing the smaller body against his chest until Christmas whimpered quietly, the pricks of countless needles aggravated by the affection. Several newer extractions on his arms bled in tiny droplets again, coloring the patches of gauze in red stippling.
Sander recoiled immediately, lifting his head from Christmas’ hair, though he still kept a loose grip the blond boy’s waist.
“Shit.” -The blood mage swore loudly, uncaring of the curse word this time as his eyes glued onto the red patches along Christmas’ arms –“S-Sorry. I’ll…bring you to the infirmary?”
Christmas shook his head, words still failing him. Instead he held onto Sander again, rubbing a tear-streaked face against the taller boy’s damp clothes. Small noises came and went until finally he managed to form a reply.
”Missed—missed you a-a lot.”
Sander just let Christmas hold on to him while he ran his fingers through the boy’s blond hair. Minutes passed, and only then did Sander realize the cool air around them. His wet shirt clinging close to his skin definite wasn’t helping, either.
“I’ll take you to our room.” -He said softly, rubbing the back of Christmas’ neck to get his attention –“Can you walk?”
Christmas shook his head, the act of standing barely passable. He would have fallen by now were it not for Sander. ”Sor-sorry…”
“Lean on me?” -Sander offered, carefully peel back Christmas’ arms so he could wrap an arm around Christmas’ back and move to stand at the blond boy’s left side –“Alright?” -He turned to look at the healer, narrowing his eyes at the red splotches.
Once the emotional firestorm of being near Sander had calmed to the steady heat of the blood mage’s presence, Christmas nodded slowly, taking testing steps and deciding leaning against Sander was enough.
”M-missed you,” he repeated in lieu of certain other words.
And just like that, they walked back. It was slow, slower when there were stairs, but Sander was patient. He had waited for days. He could wait a bit longer. And he was sure DC was a far scarier place.
The door to their room was still wide-open, just as he left it. As they shuffled inside, Sander kicked it close with his heel, then led Christmas straight to the queen-sized bed, easing the blond boy down into a seat on the soft mattress.
“Do you want anything? Water? Food? Are you hungry?” -The Aberration asked, reaching fingers out to carefully wipe at the traces of tears on Christmas’ cheeks.
More shakes of the head and Christmas clung on to Sander’s arm instead, holding fast like he was afraid Sander would disappear once he let go.
Sander looked surprised, eyes going wide before he willed himself to relax again. Eventually, he relaxed into Christmas’ hold, leaning down to crawl into bed with the healer. There was a damp patch on his pillow and bits of dirt dragged in from the driveway, but Sander didn’t care enough then. All he could really focus on was Christmas, and the blond boy was so close.
“Hey.” -He leaned in, close enough to share the shuddering air that Christmas breathed –“What do you want?” -He asked again, this time with a lopsided smile at the end.
With Sander’s face so close, Christmas could finally see the splotch of bruising on the other boy’s face. Question forgotten, he stared at the injury in horror, one hand reaching up to barely touch it.
”Are you—wh-what happened? D-do you want, um…” he looked down at the specks of red underneath the gauze on his arm, the offer obvious.
“It’s nothing. I just…fell.” -Sander answered quickly, turning his face to press his nose into Christmas’ palm, inhaling as the blond’s other hand touched against the tip of his ear.
”…Do you—do you s-still…” Christmas pulled his hands back briefly, peeling away at a patch of bandage to reveal the dot of red below where a fresh needle puncture had reopened.
The coffee scent was suddenly too strong. Too heady. Christmas was too close, and Sander found that his heart was beating too fast. He gasped, before biting back the sound and forcing himself to neither lean in or flinch away.
The dot of red was mesmerizing on Christmas’ pale skin, and for a moment, Sander felt silly, like a cat chasing laser pointers.
“You’re…sure?” -He gulped, tearing his gaze away from his roommate’s arm.
”Y-you can al-always t-take from me,” Christmas replied, moving his arm closer and leaning a fraction closer.
“You’re too nice.” -Sander sighed, as if he were lamenting. But he leaned in nonetheless, meeting Christmas’ arm halfway. Slowly, carefully, he licked at the wound, the tangy taste of blood torturous on his tongue. But he held fast, refusing to let his power ruin the only good thing in his life at the moment.
Christmas scooted closer as Sander’s eyes shone a pale red the moment tongue met blood. It wasn’t anywhere close to the full force of the vampire’s strength, but he could feel his roommate’s body temperature rising as well.
”I—I don’t mind if you…if you take more,” the healer stammered, too-fresh memories of being alone and feeling lost still haunting his thoughts as he offered solace in exchange for solace. A wish of “please don’t leave.” Instead he whispered, ”Please take more.”
With his heart hammering in his chest and the rush of blood loud in his ears, it was amazing that Sander was still holding onto a resemblance of control. He kept running his tongue along the expanse of skin, his teeth scraping but never caught. The fire in his chest was pitiful slivers of what it could be, but he held back, stopping as soon as the urge to bite got too strong. However, instead of leaning back, Sander leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Christmas’ shoulder. The self-restraint didn’t go unnoticed when they were that close to one another and Christmas brought the unwrapped forearm closer to Sander’s face once more.
”You can—al-always,” he whispered, feeling the tension along Sander’s jaw pressed against his collar bone.
“Too nice.” -Sander said with a grimace, and in one quick motion, he had tipped Christmas flat onto the bed, hovering above the healer on his hands and knees. The bruise had already faded back into the pale of his skin, its remnants were buried under the flush of Sander’s cheeks –“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t stay with you…after. I should have.”
The surprise of Sander’s form now entirely eclipsing the soft lighting rendered Christmas momentarily speechless and he stared into the faint glow of red eyes, the natural tremors of visual tracking entirely focused on him.
”It-it’s okay,” he heard himself answer automatically, because his mind was preoccupied with the heat, the position, the bed—then a tangent about the location—and back again to the thought of Sander braced above him like this. He stared back, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, at a loss for what to do as heat rose to his neck and shoulders and the spot on his nape that Sander had caressed seemed to burn.
“I will try harder, next time.”- Sander promised, solemn –“I won’t let them hurt you. Ever.”
The words registered partially, because Christmas’s eyes were tracing the lines of Sander’s lips and the curve of his cheekbones. He nodded, because it felt like the right thing to do in response, but before he could stop himself, the temptation to reach up and wrap his arms around Sander’s neck had won out. Days alone and without his roommate had defined for him how much he wanted to be near Sander, and now much of his inhibitions had been waylaid by both fatigue and the strange excitement coursing through him.
Sander blinked, looking a little bit surprised before he finally surrendered to the pull of Christmas’ arms and leaned down to press a kiss against the blond boy’s lips. It was a slower kiss this time, still chaste, still soft, but instead of pulling away, Sander lingered.
Christmas hadn’t realized how much he had wanted this particular course of action until their lips met, and he felt emboldened by the lasting kiss, so he held on a bit tighter, trying to ask Sander for more without the words at the ready.
Sander held onto the kiss as long as he dared, but then the need for air forced him to end it. Looking down at Christmas, he was breathless, eyes glazed and lips slightly part, still trying to process everything.
“I…” -He began, then trailed off, licking his lips and looking lost as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
Embarrassment colored his cheeks ruddy, but Christmas continued staring upwards, still searching for something in the curves and arches of Sander’s face—something he wasn’t even sure he should have. It was hard to tell himself Sander was like this to everyone. Even harder to convince himself there was nothing of import between them. But he didn’t know if he could step beyond the line he had set for himself, because he couldn’t bear to lose what they already had if what he wanted was a mistake in the end.
He settled for embracing Sander’s shoulders, afraid to offer anything further. Blood was easier. It was something he was almost always sure Sander wanted. But the feelings between them were far less certain for him, especially when he tried to guess and second guess Sander’s thoughts. It didn’t work and he didn’t want to risk it.
Sander breathed out, slowly, then buried his face in the crook of Christmas’ neck, drowning himself in the scent. His jaws worked a few times, but no words formed. Still trying to ask but not quite sure what he was asking for.
The touch of lips against the now-sensitive skin of his neck made Christmas breathe in sharply.
”S-Sander?” he asked, trembling.
“Hmm?”
”A-are you…um…wh-what do you…w-want to do?”
“I just…want you close.” -Sander answered, the close proximity with Christmas’ thrumming pulse made him want. Before he could think better, Sander leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of the healer’s neck, right above the pulse point.
Christmas swallowed, another inhale following the action. Sander was doing this on purpose, right? This wasn’t just his misconceptions threatening to cloud rational thought? He felt teeth and tongue against his neck and thought his heartbeats doubled in pace. Sander was strange—had always been—but this wasn’t a mistake, right? Sander knew what he was doing, right?
”I-I can…can…I’ll do wh-what you want if—if you w-want,” he offered hesitantly, the words overlapping and unsteady.
"What do you mean?"
A flutter of panic set in when Sander seemed entirely unaware of what he was suggesting.
”N-nothing—nothing—I’m sorry,” the blond hastily replied, hugging Sander tight against his neck as if to assure that this was all he meant.
“I can't…Tell me. Can you tell me?"
”T-tell what?”
"What…what I want."
It was absurd. Christmas didn’t even know what he, himself, wanted half the time, let alone know what someone important to him wanted. He breathed in, trying to find a middle ground.
”If—if it’s just…being near—I—this is f-fine, right?”
"No…" -Sander began hastily, then shifted above Christmas, suddenly uncomfortable as the heat coiled low in his stomach-"I want to…do more." -He offered hesitantly.
”M-more? Like—um…th-that kind of m-more?” Christmas’s eyes were saucers, unsure if he was hearing it right or if this was a terrible fever dream after all. As if in confirmation that this was reality, Sander lowered himself onto Christmas for another nip at his neck, pressing a distantly familiar sensation against Christmas’s thigh.
He knew it as he felt it, that characteristic tent of fabric pushed up by swelling flesh beneath. It scared him that he knew what he wanted as well in that moment and he let his breaths run as they please, scattered and frantic while he tried to assure himself that everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and the insistent pressure against his legs as Sander began biting his neck finally wore down his flimsy self-denial.
”I-I can…h-help with…with the…p-pants,” he stuttered through rapid breaths, arousal and panic mixing into something akin to exhilaration laced with the dread of making permanent mistakes.
Sander swallowed drily, staring at the white expanse of skin just below Christmas' collar. Before he could stop himself, he pressed on.
Warm sheets and soft fabric were the first sensations Christmas felt when he woke up, though his eyes refused to open. Instead he lay in the gentle divot of the memory foam mattress, feeling more rested than he had ever felt in his life. Moments of silence passed with only the ambient noise of the mansion to fill them and eventually his sluggish thoughts recalled a dream he had the night before, one where he had been bold enough to offer more than just blood to Sander.
It was shameful, really, thinking about his roommate like that, but the memory felt disturbingly vivid, as if it had actually happened. He turned over with a long breath and the motion woke him further.
It had happened.
His eyes snapped open, wide from the jolt of anxiety. It had happened.
And Sander had liked it.
The painful thundering in his chest slowed at the memory that it was okay. It was fine. Sander hadn’t been disgusted with him. Fear still knotted in his chest, but he replayed Sander’s reassurances over and over in his head, telling himself it was fine because Sander had said so—he had said so, right? The thoughts weren’t a dream mixed with reality? He fell back down into the bed, the surge of panic having depleted the meager store of morning energy.
Bright sunlight shone through the white lace curtains.
Not morning anymore.
Sander chose that exact moment to walk in with a tray of food on one arm and a first-aid kit in the other. Blue eyes lit up at the sight of Christmas up and about, and the blood mage quickly deposited everything on the nearby desk before walking to the bed.
“You’re awake.” -Sander smiled, standing at the bedside and hovering over Christmas who looked up in surprise. The expression melted into something like worry and want all tangled together and the healer’s eyes seemed to trace the edges of Sander’s face where the muted light illuminated his temple and jaw.
”Sander,” the response was quiet, but it was both greeting and a reply. ”Good—um—good morning…?” He sat up slowly, still shaky from the brief moment of panic on waking up, but relieved at the sight of Sander’s smile. Persistent pinpricks of pain reminded him of what had started the snowball of events yesterday, and he was both grateful for them and scared of the memories where he laid alone in a room full of those who saw him as nothing more than a convenient trick to make their pains disappear.
“It’s noon, actually.” -Sander took a few more moments to observe the healer, just to make sure he wasn’t distressed or in pain, before moving back to the table to retrieve the food -”You have been sleeping for a while.”
”S-sorry,” Christmas replied automatically.
“It’s fine.” -Sander shrugged, offered Christmas the tray of food. There were three breakfast burritos and one bowl of Fruit Loops cereal on it, along with a spoon wrapped in several paper napkins–“Got you some food.”
”W-will you eat with me?”
It was a bold question, one he had only found the nerve to ask after the events of last night.
“Okay.” -The answer came easily for Sander, who simply placed the tray on the bed then sat down next to it, waiting on Christmas.
It came easily, the urge to take more and more. It was true what the adage about humans often repeated: give an inch and people would take a mile. But Christmas toed that line anyway, because he had gone further, so surely leaning against Sander now wouldn’t be wrong, right?
He shuffled towards the taller boy, hugging the arm Sander was bracing against the bed and pressing his cheek to a bicep, food an afterthought in his mind.
”Um…I…y-you don’t mind?”
The physical contact was new, but Sander had always wanted it. And after last night, it would take a lot to make him mind.
“I don’t.”
Tension slid off Christmas’s shoulders like water and the blond boy sighed into a heavier lean against Sander’s arm. ”…I’m sorry,” he mumbled against toned skin, ”I…um…I’ll try not to bo-bother you t-too much.” He didn’t even know what he meant by that, because more than anything he wanted to be able to hug and cling onto Sander at any moment. He had known it was a bad idea, to let himself indulge last night in things he wanted. He always wanted more, because he pretended to be nice, but wasn’t. ”Sorry…” he repeated, as if afraid Sander could hear his thoughts.
“Don’t have to.” -Sander reminded gently, nudging Christmas slightly to turn his attention toward the breakfast tray -”You should eat.”
”Y-you first.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
”B-but…” The question of why Sander had brought food when he wasn’t hungry died on Christmas’s tongue. Obviously, there was an intended recipient. He shifted uncomfortably, still holding on to Sander’s arm. ”Doing things for me is…bad…” he concluded, ”b-because I’m…not nice.”
“But you are nice.” -Sander shifted slightly, turning to press a kiss against Christmas’ hair -”Thanks.”
”O-only you think that, y-you know?” He breathed in as Sander kissed his hair, willing himself to stay calm. His heartbeat ran amok anyway. ”I…I like that, too,” he whispered, blinking at Sander’s fingers pressed into the down comforter.
“You should eat.”
Christmas relented, hunger finally waking along with him. He prodded the burrito with a finger, curious about the contents. When the smell of eggs and sausage wafted out of the aluminum wrapper, he picked it up and peeled off the covering, biting into tortilla shell and filling slowly, not used to the kind of care Sander gave him.
”Th-thank you,” he mumbled after the first bite, staring at the food sadly.
Sander sat quietly, watching intently until Christmas finally dug into his food. Satisfied, the blood mage stood, walking toward the table to grab the first-aid kit and quickly returning. He sat back down, bringing a hand to Christmas’ arm, the touch probing.
“Are you still hurting?”
”I’m—I’m okay,” was the instant reply. Christmas nibbled again on the burrito, trying not to feel guilty about accepting kindness.
“Your arm…from last night. I can look at it.” -Sander offered, the touch gentle but insistent -”I also brought…pills.”
The reminder of the last time he had taken strong painkillers made Christmas’s hands shake. He swallowed the latest bite of food and placed the burrito back onto the tray, holding on to Sander’s arm again. ”I’m okay,” he said again, looking at his own arm that Sander had licked last night. ”It’s fine.” A thought occurred to even out the weight of guilt for daring to be happy. ”D-do you want more?”
“No.” -The blood mage said hastily, eyes wide at the sudden offer. Did Christmas think he just wanted…more? Was he afraid? –“I’m not…I don—I’m fine. Please.” -He reassured quickly, shifting away from the blond boy.
“I’m just gonna help with the bandages.” -He pleaded -”You…trust me, right?”
Christmas nodded, but held out his arm anyway. ”I…I-like when you…take from me. F-feels like I matter. Don’t mind if you—if you always take more.”
“You matter to me anyway. Not just because of the…blood.” -Sander admitted, just as he began to roll the sleeve of Christmas’ sweater up. However, the bandages climbed all the above the blond boy’s elbow. Sander looked confused for a few moments, before he finally suggested.
“Maybe it would be better if you take your sweater off.”
There was a brief second of hesitation, because Christmas vaguely recalled being jostled about by a particular group of people demanding to be healed first before soldiers had to step in and push them away. But he obeyed, pulling his arms into the sleeves of the sweater and slipping them down and out, tugging the blue-and-white striped sweater over his head to reveal a light smattering of bruises across his torso and more bandages along his other arm as well. Small patches of band-aids rested near his waist and hips where less concerned nurses had drawn blood outside of designated locations on his body. He shivered a bit when the warmth of the sweater was removed and he looked at Sander nervously, hands working one another in his lap while he tried to gauge if it was too much trouble after all.
”S-sorry.”
The blood mage’s brows knitted together as he examined the patches of white and smatterings of red across Christmas’ torso. So this was what their ‘protection’ looked like. He, of all people, should have known.
“I…So I will just remove the old ones?” -He lifted the loose end of a bandage on Christmas’ arm, where the blond boy had offered him blood last night.
Another automatic “I’m okay” almost sounded, but Christmas held his tongue and nodded instead. ”Th-thank you.”
Permissioned granted, Sander began reaching for the bandages on Christmas’ left arm, unwinding them slowly to expose the bruises and needle wounds. Once the healer’s arm was completely bare, he reached into the kit, retrieving a roll of white bandage.
“Hang on. Do I have to put something on those?” -Sander paused, glancing at the various bottles within the kit.
”M-maybe just, um, the rubbing alcohol?” As soon as he suggested it, Christmas regretted it, realizing it would sting up and down the entirety of his arm. ”O-or not, m-maybe. Th-the arm already got c-cleaned earlier. J-just rewrapping?”
“Alright.” -Sander nodded, leaning closer to carefully wrap the strips of bandage around the puncture marks. His breaths slowed, and his eyes narrowed in focus, trying to align the strips perfectly. Still, he had never done this sort of thing before, and it showed. By the time he finished and leaned back to observe his work, Christmas’ arm looked like the blond boy was trying to cosplay as a mummy. Certain strips were lopsided, while others are either too tight or too loose, and Sander ended up holding a loose end in his hand, not quite sure what sort of knot he was supposed to tie.
“Uh…I’m sorry.” -He mumbled, angry with himself. He could have at least researched this beforehand –“I’m just…I have never…” -The blood mage cut himself off, trying to tuck the loose strand into one of the loops.
“I can take you to the infirmary?”
A shake of his head in response, Christmas having had enough of infirmaries for a while. He withdrew the arm, worried about how much work it would be for Sander to replace everything. ”It—it’s fine. S-sorry for the t-trouble.”
Sander sighed, seemingly had given up on the sorry attempt at fixing Christmas’ bandages. He hooked an arm around the healer’s waist, scooting closer while his other hand reached out to grab Christmas his half-eaten burrito.
“It’s no trouble, really.” -Sander titled his head, leaning into Christmas’ warmth –“I like doing things for you. You were always so nice to me. Even when I don’t really…deserve it.”
“I’ll do all the things you like.”
He looked up then, meeting eyes with Sander’s and they were so close with Sander’s arm around his waist and face so near. There were plenty of things he wanted to do with Sander beyond just the explicit. Corny, saccharine things that television had always satirized or made light of, but to him sounded like heaven—long hours of quiet company on the couch, sweet walks along a shoreline where they would talk carelessly of days past, silly theme park rides where no one minded who and what they were, starry nights spent together on a blanket they’d have to wash later. But he couldn’t voice any of it, because there was so much more and words weren’t enough so he grabbed Sander’s hand and held it tight instead because in every instance of daydream wishes, he still held that hand.
”M-me, too,” he agreed.
Sander indulged the motion, threading their fingers together. However, Christmas still didn’t take the burrito from him, so Sander just held it in front of the blond boy’s mouth, feeding it to him. There was surprise on the smaller boy’s childishly soft face with its lack of well-defined jaw and gentle lines.
Christmas eventually bit into the food, taking it from Sander’s hand and leaving the loosely tied gauze dangling from his wrist, mess temporarily forgotten as he continued eating.
“So I looked up sex earlier.”
Christmas choked on the bite of eggs, sausage, and tortilla, coughing it down eventually before looking back up at Sander, panic on his face again.
“I just…wanted to know more. I wanted to make it good for you.” -Misunderstanding the blond boy’s startled look as disapproval, Sander quickly clarified, a crimson flush highlighted his cheeks –“I have never done it before.”
”Y-you…want to h-have s-se-sex…? W-with…with m-me?” Christmas knew his face looked strange now, stuck between maximum concern and something like anticipation. ”I-I’m…I…d-didn’t know if you…” The last part of Sander’s statement finally registered and he blinked. ”W-wait. You h-haven’t?”
“I mean…we had…oral sex, r-right? And you said you like it.” -Sander was just confused now, racking his mind to see where he had gone wrong –“And yeah. I never…I can’t…” -He tapped the X on his throat instead finishing his sentence.
Christmas blinked, nodding but not sure how to answer. He did want it. But would it seem too much to agree? Especially when Sander was a virgin?
”I—um…I don’t—w-want to seem…s-selfish. But I did…I did like it…always if it’s…if it’s you…” His lips trembled, trying to quell embarrassment and shame all at once. Sander deserved better, really.
“Then I’ll make it better. There are…videos I can watch. I’ll learn.” -Sander said, the blush still stained his cheeks but his voice was firm, determined –“How do you like it?”
Christmas just breathed shakily, feeling Sander’s hand, their fingers locked together.
“A-anything you like.”
“That’s a bit vague.”
Christmas gulped, doing his best to think about something other than Sander’s offer because what he wanted was…not right. Wrong. Everything about him was wrong. A boy who liked girly things. A boy who liked other boys. His entire existence seemed like one huge mistake—or a joke on the universe’s part. He was too reliant on anyone who gave him the time of day, and especially Sander who gave and kept giving.
”Anything you want,” he repeated, hugging the steady chest in front of him and pressing his cheek against the heartbeat. ”If…if you like something you…um…watched…I’ll do it.”
“I saw them…put it in.” -Sander suggested tentatively, his free hand went up to caress the short hair at Christmas’ neck -”In the videos, I mean.”
Christmas sighed when he felt warm fingers touch his neck and it took him a moment to realize what Sander had said. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sure he had heard right.
”D-do you—do you w-want to?”
“Do you?”
”I…I like…that…kind of…stuff—w-when it’s…when it’s i-in me…” he answered slowly, burying his face in Sander’s shirt to hide his embarrassment. His hold grew tighter and he kept his face firmly hidden, heat rising to his neck and shoulders and he knew Sander would be able to feel it.
“I’ll do it then.”The caressing hand began to slid down to Christmas’ bare shoulders, running along the pale skin. The scent of coffee was slightly heightened, too. –“Anything you like.”
”Don’t—don’t have to if you don’t—if you don’t like it,” he mumbled, trembling at the touch.
“I want it.” -The hand crept lower, stopping at the waist of Christmas’ pants -”I think…I’ll like it.”
Christmas sucked in a breath when the hand trailed lower, hands balling the fabric of Sander’s shirt. ”B-but…what if you don’t?”
“Why shouldn’t I? I like you.”
”But o-only as a friend…r-right? Y-you don’t r-really understand, r-right?” The words came out before he could stop them, his defenses so easily down around Sander. He stiffened as his voice trailed off, panic and fear familiar on his nerves again.
Sander was quite for a few moments, thoughts tumbling back and forth in his head. He did care. He did like Christmas as a friend. But there was also more. Something he felt deep inside the space of his chest. Something he did not understand nor did he dare to explore, fearing that it would turn out to be just another trick of his fire.
But in this rare moment of clarity, he wanted. He dared to believe.
He placed a hand Christmas’ shoulder, gently nudging the boy’s shoulder back so he could stare into cornflower blue eyes, the shade suddenly captivating.
“I wouldn’t…do this with a friend.” -Just as the words formed, he leaned down to press a deep kiss against Christmas’ lips.
It worried him—everything always did—when he was happy. When things went right. Because this was going too right. A misunderstanding or something. It was absurd that Sander would feel something for him. Would hold him and know what it meant to be more than friends.
But he held on to the kiss anyway, tilting his head into it and letting the pressure of skin and lips defy his anxious heart. When Sander finally moved away, his lips and face were flushed once more, shaded red as the blood rose to his head.
”Have to—have to clean up f-first,” he mumbled, dazed. ”And—and…st-stuff for…d-doing it…” He leaned forward, back into Sander’s chest and tried to stay steady, too much excitement and expectations rioting in his mind and he wasn’t prepared—not physically, not mentally.
”You like me…” he repeated into Sander’s chest, the words different now. ”W-we’re…we’re a…y-you’re my…?” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence, that last acknowledgement horrifying if he was wrong.
“Your what?”
The next words were so quiet Sander almost missed them.
”…Are you my…my boyfriend?”
The question elicited a flutter in Sander’s chest, and he was suddenly grateful Christmas was hiding his face instead of looking up. Sander must look pretty stupid right now, expression torn between confusion and amazement and probably with a stupid smile too.
“Yeah.” -He said quickly –If you would have me. Yeah.”
Four years ago, an elderly woman who managed a small clothing store near his high school had asked Christmas if he had wanted the blue ribbon he kept staring at every time he passed her store. It hadn’t been a separate item, more of a mannequin’s accessory that seemed oddly out of place with its drab attire in brown and gray. He had passed by one day, and she had been closing up the store, curly gray hair unruly from the humidity.
His eyes had glued themselves to the little blue ribbon again, but this time he had reason to stop, because the owner had stepped in front of him, the eyes kindly despite what the local neighbors knew of him and his oddities.
”Do you want it, dear?” she had asked, turning back to unlock the door.
It had felt like the smallest and largest of blessings then, that someone for once allowed him to like. To want. And to have.
He remembered nodding quickly, repeatedly, eyes open so far he feared they would never close.
He nodded now, just like that—liking, wanting, and having all within his reach where everything had been kept away before, like he watched it all from behind a glass wall. It was different from Alvin, who spun control and fear around him coated in a thin veneer of affection, and even then Christmas had held onto every scrap he could get, because there were so few things in this world he could reach like that. A ribbon. A stuffed animal. A handheld console. Material substitutes for what he wasn’t allowed to be.
But Sander was everything he had tried to replicate before—and more. More than him and his small problems.
So he kept nodding, feeling the tears well up until they overflowed, but with his face still pressed against Sander the feelings had a place to go. Someone to hold dear.
A tell-tale patch of dampness began to spread on the front of his shirt, and Sander noticed that Christmas was crying. His hand immediately went back up to the nape of the healer’s neck, rubbing soothing circles.
“Don’t cry. Please.” -He pressed frantic kisses against blond hair, trying everything he knew to stop the distress –“Why are you crying?”
”…Happy…” came the response through muffled sniffling.
“That’s a silly thing to cry about.” -Sander commented, but not without affection in his tone. He pressed a few more kisses onto the blond boy’s hair, then patiently sat with him until the sobbing subsided. There was a large wet patch on the front of his shirt by then, but Sander didn’t really mind, instead just insisted the healer finish his breakfast. When the blond boy finally complied, Sander remained nearby, one arm wrapping loosely around Christmas’ waist, enjoying the quiet comfort of simply being near.
Sander let out a breath eventually, tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders as he finally turned back to the bed. Christmas was still where he was, half-buried underneath the mound of blanket, so Sander stood at their bedside, waiting, expression remorseful. The healer peeked out eventually, looking up at Sander.
”S-sorry.”
The blood mage didn’t respond, simply reaching out to his roommate with an upturned hand. Christmas took the hand automatically, wincing as several of the open needle pricks reminded him of their presences. He had tried to move minimally to avoid the deep pains from badly positioned syringes, but that hadn’t helped as much as he had thought. He sniffled involuntarily, a few of the sharper stings welling tears up in his eyes.
Sander held on to the hand in his just as he sat down onto the edge of the mattress. The bandages from the other day had been undone, the loose end hung limply, so Sander reached out for that with his free hand, quickly wrapping it back into place.
“I should have been more insistent.” -He mumbled, eyes glued to the leaking dots on Christmas’ arm -”She doesn’t need healing at all.”
”It’s—it’s okay. I don’t…mind…” the healer trailed off, remembering the last time he had said so. “Sorry…”
“I would never leave you, you know?” -Sander tucked the gauze in more tightly this time, smoothing out the edges. It looked slightly better than his last attempt. Still, he did not let go of Christmas’ hand, instead holding it in both of his -”You won’t have to go to her. Ever.”
Promises were not something he made often, just because he knew he could never keep them. This one, however, he would like to. Even if…
“I will be here with you. Or I won’t be anywhere at all.”
Christmas held onto Sander’s hand as well, clutching it tighter at the implication of death. ”If…you’re gone…I’d…be, too…” The reality of that statement surprised him. ”D-don’t go a-anywhere I can’t…can’t follow…please.”
“I’m staying.” -The words were firm, and Sander pressed a kiss against the white gauze –“With you.”
He sighed then, because he knew how unpredictable the future could be. There were instances where even his fire couldn’t save him. But he didn’t voice that concern. He knew how distressed Christmas was, and he just wanted the healer to relax.
“Are you still tired?”
The blond shook his head, scooting out from under the blankets to rest against Sander.
”I…” he trailed off, hugging Sander’s arm instead.
“Yeah?”
”I…w-want to sit in your—your lap again…if…if it’s okay.” He mumbled the request into the sheets, trying not to be heard.
But Sander heard him anyway, so he reached for the PS Vita discarded nearby and patted a spot on his lap, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smile.
“Let’s finish that game then.”
Happy to have his request obliged, Christmas tucked himself into Sander’s lap again, adjusting himself to avoid resting the worst spots of needle marks again Sander’s chest. He sighed once he had become comfortable.
”Th-thank you.”
“I wish…you would tell me what you want all the time.” -Sander looped an arm around Christmas’ waist, sighing into the nape of his neck -”I would like to know them.”
“I would like to know you.”
”I…um…like hearing y-yours more.” Christmas stared at the paused game screen as he spoke, trying to avoid giving in to the soft touch and warm breath on his neck.
“That’s not really fair.” -Sander reached over and pressed the start button for him, leaning his chin on Christmas’ shoulder -”Please?”
Christmas gave in easily. He couldn’t hold against Sander’s “please,” after all.
”Wh-What should I say?”
“What do you like?”
”Y-you.” It was an easy answer and he was glad that was it for the question.
“And?” -Sander exhaled, amused.
”H-huh?”
“There must be other things.”
”…R-ribbons. And…and dresses…” He seemed to shrink into a tighter ball in Sander’s lap. ”S-sorry…”
As Christmas curled in on himself, Sander only kept his touches firm and steady, started caressing motions on the back of the healer’s hand.
“Yes. Those. I would like to know about those.” -He kissed the shell of Christmas’ ear –“Anything else?”
”Wh-what about you?” the smaller boy replied, trying to steer his thoughts out of more explicit territory when Sander kissed his ear.
“I’m simple. I like running. I like drinking.” -Flashes of what happened at the bar the other day almost changed that, which was exactly why he had been avoiding the place -”And I like you.”
“I think it’s your turn, again.”
”What—what kind of drinks?”
“Sweet.” -Sander smiled, then followed up -”What kind of dress?”
Christmas turned his face to hide in Sander’s shirt, realizing he had never once told anyone what kinds of dresses he always stared at in the women’s section of the large department stores his parents used to shop in. ”L-lace…and—and l-lots of decorations…” Most of the dresses he had seen were stitched together with the chests of women in mind and while he had entertained small daydreams about wearing them, the sight of the dress’s sagging torso, even in his thoughts, was just one more thing wrong with him. He didn’t want to be a girl—the thought had never crossed his mind as a desire, though certainly as a curiosity—but he wanted what they were allowed to wear.
“I think…you’d look pretty in one.”
Christmas clutched at the shirt under his hand, breath catching in his throat at the comment. He looked up at Sander, eyes wide like he was expecting a punch line to the joke—perhaps a “Just kidding” or that old “Psyche!” But Sander was serious and he smiling and it all felt so perfect. The healer didn’t realize how long he stared until almost a minute had passed. With a shaky breath he nodded, leaning into Sander while gratitude broke the words on his tongue.
”Th-thank you…” He sniffled again, but not from the little pains this time.
Sander’s hand went up to press against Christmas’ cheek immediately, already trying to wipe away any wet traces of tears.
“Don’t cry. Please.” -He mumbled hastily, trying to change the topic -”What about other things? Your favorite places? Do you like animals?”
The sniffling didn’t subside for several more minutes, but by then Christmas had calmed enough to release his clutch on Sander’s shirt, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek in small, slow motions against the palm pressed to his face.
”I like…s-sunset. Like in the…the photos of big fields. And…s-stuffed animals.”
He blinked, realizing he had been enjoying Sander’s palm a bit much and stopping.
”Wh-what about you?”
“I…didn’t get out much.” -Sander shrugged, trying to keep his voice light -”I think I saw a field on the way here.”
“Do you want to go see the sunset then? Later?”
Christmas nodded, pulling Sander’s hand near his face towards his mouth and pressing the knuckles against his lips. He remembered the half conversation at the hospital. The last five years for Sander had been “not nice.” He wanted to and didn’t want to ask—it felt like something Sander would tell him if he trusted him enough and asking seemed like cheating. So he kissed the hand and leaned into the embrace, game forgotten.
Around two hours later, Sander came back to their room with a giant picnic basket in hand and backpack filled with essentials for a night out under the stars with his boyfriend. Or so he was told. The staff was kind enough to pack everything for him, so he didn’t really have an opportunity to check what exactly these bags contained. As far as he knew, there was at least a small container of blood in there. They must have figured its connection with his power. Though he doubted he would need it tonight.
Once the door clicked shut behind him, Sander put everything into a neat pile on the floor before walking off toward Christmas who was dozing on the bed, blue-striped sweater askew on his shoulders and handheld console laying beside him playing what sounded like general scene music on repeat. They had snacked on fries and burgers earlier, prepared by request when Christmas seemed intimidated by the display of food in the dining hall and a maid had asked him if there was anything he had wanted. Sander had needed to relay the question before the healer would answer, but by the end of it they had procured freshly prepared fast food—though “gourmet” was likely the closer term for what the maid had returned with on a silver platter. Christmas had eaten his entire meal set, so it was no surprise that by now he was sleeping off the food.
Wordlessly, Sander crawled into bed beside him, throwing one arm around Christmas’ waist and rubbing a spot on his stomach, the touch light but insistent. Christmas stirred, soft breaths increasing in pace as he blearily opened his eyes. He turned to look at Sander, smiling in his half-dreams before trying to fall back asleep.
“Wake up, dreamy.”
A quiet noise answered him, but Christmas was having a hard time stirring from the feeling of eating well.
Sander couldn’t help but lean forward to place a kiss on Christmas’ eyelids. That finally woke the sleeping blond and he blinked up as Sander withdrew.
”S-sorry…I thought…I heard you say something.”
“Nothing.” -Sander smiled -”Just thought I’d wake you up. Almost sunset.”
Silence passed for seconds before sleep finally gave way enough for Christmas to remember that he wanted to see the sunset with Sander. He sat up, groggy but eager, pulling the loose sweater back onto his shoulder where it had slid off to one side in his sleep. He looked at Sander expectantly, like he was waiting for permission to be excited.
“I got everything.” -Sander’s smile widened into a grin as he pushed himself up and gestured at the bag and basket on the floor -”Cmon. It’ll be a…date.” -He used one of those forgotten words that he had only read about and saw in movies, but it was the only one he found appropriate, now. After all, Christmas was his boyfriend. Several silver squares tucked into the outside mesh pocket of the bag along with a tube that looked similar to toothpaste, but was very much not drew Christmas’ attention and by the time he fully realized what they were, his neck and shoulders felt like they were on fire.
”P-prepare…?” he ventured, eyes still glued to the items.
“Uh…” -Sander looked dumbfounded for a few seconds -”I…yeah. I got…stuffs.”
Misinterpreting the answer, Christmas nodded, scampering off the bed and snatching up the tube from the bag’s outer pocket, then disappearing into the bathroom.
Sander remained puzzled, but he left the blond boy to his own devices. Christmas actually didn’t emerge until half an hour later, face flushed and breath short, which only served to confuse Sander even more, especially when the scent of coffee flooded every corner of their shared room.
“Are you…okay?” -Sander was at Christmas’ side in an instant, pressing a hand against the boy’s forehead -”If you’re feeling sick, we can go…another time?”
There was a quick shake of his head, and Christmas clutched Sander’s arm. ”Want to—to go.”
“…Okay.” -When Christmas asked like that and looked like that, Sander couldn’t really say no.
He ended up letting the blond boy lean on him like the other day, the healer’s legs were again strangely uncooperative. Regardless, they pressed on, arriving at their destination just a few minutes before sunset. It was a large clearing on a nearby hilltop that overlooked an edge of the island, probably a field of sort before, now abandoned and occupied by overgrowth. Nearby, there was a small shed, emptied long ago but most of the structures were still intact. When he asked about a good place to see the sun set, one of the staff had suggested this place. Sander was glad he had asked, because the view in this place was amazing. Enough of the original trees hemming the clearing had been removed to allow for a breathtaking view of both the beach and the sunset glancing in orange and gold off the waters.
Christmas’s gaze was fixated on the twilight sun, the image so similar and so much more than what he had seen through pictures. It was different from watching the sun set behind the rooftops of houses, or disappearing behind mountains. But the single most important change was that Sander stood beside him. He breathed out eventually, remembering that he had held his breath for the past few seconds of silent gazing.
”…It’s beautiful,” he murmured, watching the rays of light filter around distant clouds.
Sander had been looking at Christmas for the past few moments, and when he heard the blond boy’s comment, he smiled like it was the most natural thing, and said -”Yeah. It is. You are.”
It took a few moments for the comment to process, but when it finally did Christmas turned sharply, surprise on his face and something of a half-smile he was trying to suppress. ”N-no…but—uh—I…th-thank you…I…y-you are, too. H-handsome, I-I mean.” He slipped and slid all over his words, looking down instead and clutching at the hem of his sweater. ”H-happy to be with you,” he finished, trying to put his giddy feelings back into place.
Sander opened his mouth, trying to come up with a reply before he decided against it and just leaned in, pressing his lips against Christmas’s, who would have cried out in surprise if his voice wasn’t muffled through the rush of lips and tongue. Instead Christmas whimpered quietly at the initial shock before holding on to Sander’s shoulders and leaning into the kiss. He liked it, he was ashamed to say. Liked being pampered. Liked being spoiled with affection. He didn’t deserve an iota of it, but Sander gave it all anyway and with every gentle moment he thought he’d give in at last—decide to be horrible and think it was fine to be happy even if he shouldn’t be.
Terrible.
And he was afraid Sander would change his mind.
Despite the fact that he initiated the kiss, Sander looked rather dazed and a bit surprised when he pulled back, eyes glassy and lips still slightly parted. He was quiet for the longest of time, just staring at Christmas, hands pressing warmth against the blond boy’s cheeks, the setting sun forgotten.
“I wish you would smile more.” -He breathed, a thumb reached out to brush Christmas’ lower lip -”I really like it when you do that.”
At that Christmas couldn’t help the small smile spreading on his face. It was so easy to feel happy around Sander and being alone for those days ringed by people who only saw him as an easy way to help others had broken something down—he couldn’t name it, but it was easier now to tell himself he really wanted Sander beside him especially after thinking he had been left alone.
“It fits you.”
The smile trembled a bit, threatening to turn into happy tears, but Christmas fixed that with a forward shove, wrapping his arms around Sander’s torso and squeezing his eyes together, because handling emotions had never been his strong suit and Sander brought out so many of them—all of them good, even the lurking fear of red eyes; they were aspects he had associated with Sander by now and with Sander, even the bad was good.
“You’re missing the sunset.” -Sander said, rubbing Christmas’ hair gently.
”You’re—you’re better than the sunset,” a muffled voice spoke into Sander’s shirt.
Sander just laughed softly at that, the sound low in his chest. He indulged the blond boy, letting Christmas holding onto him as long as he wanted. Then again, it felt nice too, having another constant warmth by his side. He hadn’t even realized he missed that until Christmas.
After a few moment though, his wandering gaze caught sight of the picnic basket lying to the side. Reminded of food, he started rubbing small circles on Christmas’ back, patting him -”Hungry? I brought snacks.”
The small boy nodded, but didn’t move, face still hidden in the hug.
“I can…feed you. If you want.”
That made Christmas look up and his face was that strange mix of panic and anticipation again. His tongue still tied, the blond only nodded instead, relaxing his hold on Sander and stepping away.
Sander turned to the basket then and returned with a bag of chips and the sleeping bag. He laid the latter out on the ground, spreading it wide so they could both fit on it before lying down, leaning his back against the plump backpack. He patted the space next to him, smiling at Christmas. The healer smiled back, sitting down beside Sander and snuggling into the allotted space. When Sander had made sure Christmas was comfortable, he brought a chip to the blond’s lips, urging him to eat. Mumbling a shaky “thank you,” Christmas did, nibbling away at the piece until it was gone, only to have Sander’s fingers trace his lips in the aftermath, wiping away crumbs. He tried not to focus too much on that sensation, but his mind rarely listened to him and before long the heat was creeping onto his neck and shoulders once more.