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Location: Myotis Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Dance Monkey #4.041: Between Shadows and Light
Interaction(s): Haven @Skai, Harper @Qia, Aurora @Melissa, Amma @Rockette
Previously: Dancing on Egghsells
Harper’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the rhythm of the dancing coils. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Amma, captivated by the effortless assurance with which she commanded the crimson light. In that moment, she felt small, yet profoundly aware of the potential that lay dormant within the woman before her, waiting to be awakened.
“You’ve always been so certain,” Harper finally said, her voice a soft murmur that barely broke the stillness. “You know what you want, what you’re fighting for. And you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get it back.” She hesitated here, feeling the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing against her chest. The words she wanted to say were tangled in her throat, but the intensity of the moment pushed them forward. “But what if… what if you lose yourself in the process? Unless…you believe you already have?”
Her eyes dipped briefly in contemplation, the heaviness of her thoughts pulling her gaze downward before they met those piercing blue eyes once again. However, unlike all those previous times, Harper did not feel the need to use her ability-if she even could without that excruciating pain, anyway.
“If that’s the case…then you’re wrong.” Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that she couldn’t quite mask. Because Harper hadn’t just seen something predatory behind those eyes that warm, sunny day on the beach. She’d seen a bit of something else, as well. Something yearning and longing.
“I think…I see someone in you who’s been hurt, yes. But also someone who’s still holding on to something…someone who’s not as lost as she thinks.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Harper?” Amma carefully closed her fist, nails against the lines of fate marked into her skin, a foretold and smothered touch of destiny inlaid through her palms as she smothered those tendrils of her power; they snuffed out on soft echoes of a droning manifest, a quaking need and yearning that called for something; she just didn’t know what it was anymore. “Should I lose myself, then mark it as another price I have to pay. More to the role I have to play here.”
She almost wanted to laugh—those inner turmoils that wrought through her heart, everything that she was spun out into leagues of dread, figments of herself that Harper was trying to glean through, similar words once spoken to her by another who looked at her and saw that mask. She agreed to be friends with some, relinquished pieces of her power unto them, and saved them. What more did they want? He spoke of creation, and he talked of mending, but what did any of that truly mean for a person hell-bent on revenge and destruction? Who’s very touch inspired nothing but death. Certain? If only she knew.
“Maybe I am lost, maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m still trapped in the dark. All I know is that I’m… trying. I want to try.” Her words are wavering, only slight, her usual confidence unspooling through the admissions that are rested on her tongue and pressing against her teeth, lips tucked into a frown until her laugh does break free, a delicate and perhaps sorrowful trill that encompasses all that she is trying to say but doesn’t know where to begin. “But I cannot forgive, and I cannot forget. Not yet.”
Harper stayed silent, absorbing all of Amma’s words. Her admissions caused the atmosphere to feel charged, a fragile connection teetering on the edge of understanding and something much darker. She could sense the turmoil within Amma, see the storm brewing behind those intense blue eyes, threatening to consume everything in its path-anything that dared to get in her way.
Her breath hitched as she felt her legs give way, forcing her to sink into the nearest chair. She took a moment longer, letting the silence stretch as she gathered her scattered thoughts.
“Maybe it’s not about forgiving or forgetting,” Harper murmured eventually, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned her head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused. “Maybe it’s about finding the things, or the people, worth holding onto. Those things that can anchor you when the darkness becomes too overwhelming. When you may not even be able to see yourself anymore.” She paused, her thoughts momentarily drifting away from the present. A faint memory surfaced, a voice from her past playing in her mind.
Just slay your own dragons already.
Harper swallowed, only choosing then to look up again.
“Just don’t…make it one singular person or thing. Because if you lose that person….” Her voice trailed off, not even wanting to consider that happening. Not again.
“I think that person can decide for those risks too. But he- I…”
Amma is quiet, unable to finish her words; long enough, she thinks, for the night to flit on by and for Aurora and Haven to finish on her hair. It’s only with a soft sigh and a muttered admission that she offers as she moves closer to Harper, allowing her a moment to hear pieces of her heart she’s never openly admitted before. Things worth holding onto: is that what it was? What did she feel? What she found in the comforts of shadow and sleep; were these the things Harper alluded to, the calm and peace she found despite what tormented her waking world?
The letters tease away at the back of her mind. What did her mother feel when she read those?
“I’ve lost enough people in my life; I don’t intend to lose anyone ever again. Not for the promises I made, then. And the ones I have made now.”
Harper caught the slip in Amma’s words, her mind immediately racing to conclusions. Is she talking about Lorcán? The thought tugged at her, a persistent itch she couldn’t scratch. The temptation to clarify was almost unbearable, to caution the raven-haired woman that pinning everything on one person was a dangerous game to play. But who was she to offer that advice?
Harper had done the same to Sierra, clinging to her sister even if it meant dragging her down with her.
The irony was a bitter pill to swallow, and her own hypocrisy left a sour taste in her mouth. Though, before Harper could dwell on her swirling thoughts, Amma’s voice sliced through the haze with a raw confession. The brunette managed to mask her surprise, her expression softening as she turned to face her. It was there. The urge to reach out physically like she would with any of her friends. But something held her back. Probably the fact that they weren’t really friends as she barely knew Amma.
“Yeah… I get that. I really do…” Harper muttered, her voice gentle and understanding. It had to be enough. It was all she could offer.
A small, knowing smile formed at the corner of her lips. “You know what? I think we could both use another shot with all of that.”
Amma laughed, a little more relaxed, subdued, perhaps courtesy of the alcohol or some minute, mutual understanding that afforded her the moment.
“I think you're right.”
Managing to miss the pair’s conversation entirely, Aurora strolled back into the living area after completing Haven’s hair. Looking between Harper and Amma, she could sense some tension, but she had no interest in finding out what they had discussed. Knowing her friend well, it was more than likely that she had attempted to pry and get something out of the dark haired girl, but also having come to understand Amma more, it was unlikely anything resulted from it. Glancing down at her phone, she noticed what time it was.
“We should probably start putting on dresses,” She suggested to the girls, but instead of walking towards her room, she walked over to the refrigerator, pulling a cardboard box from the bottom shelf. Making her way back to the table, she placed it down on the surface and opened the top, revealing carefully packaged boutonnieres, all identical with white various flowers. “But before that, I picked these up from the Community Farm this morning. I figured everyone here probably has someone they want to give one to.”
Her laughter edged off almost entirely, her eyes glimpsing down into the box and the assortment of flowers arranged in a simplistic but elegant way with the blossoms bunched as an adornment of sorts. Amma’s expression lapsed into the finer edges of perplexity, someone to give them to; she reached forward to brush her fingers against one before she snatched her hand back and regarded her glass set off to the side. Her thoughts drifted back to that morning, and the heat that threaded through her was no longer just a byproduct of the liquid courage that thrummed through her veins.
“Definitely going to need another drink.”
Harper leaned forward, her fingers delicately brushing against the soft petals as she picked up one of the boutonnieres. It was simple, yet the gesture Aurora had made carried a profound significance. Turning it over in her hand, she felt a smile grace her lips at the corners, a warmth spreading through her chest. Her best friend had a knack for these thoughtful touches, always knowing how to make moments special. It was in these small acts that Aurora’s true depth of care and consideration always shone through.
“This is a nice touch,” Harper said, her voice imbued with genuine appreciation. Her eyes roamed the room before they landed on Amma. She noticed the flicker of emotions dancing across her teammate’s face, a silent struggle that Harper could almost feel herself. Without a second thought, she gently nudged the box towards Amma, a wordless gesture of encouragement and support.
“Whoever you give it to, they’ll appreciate it,” Harper said, her voice carrying a quiet confidence.
Amma’s lashes panned down low into an understated glare, fixated onto Harper with her features pinched momentarily, the pout of her lip pursed against her teeth before she drew her tongue against the ridge of bone and sighed, delicately reaching for one herself and twirling it amidst her fingers.
“I don't doubt it. I just,” she gestured offhandedly, almost dismissive. “Never done anything like it before. All of this.” She allowed the flowers to settle within her palm, the darling white petals against her scars that soothed the trembling that had begun through her usually confident gestures.
“We shall see.”
Aurora smiled, a genuine smile that came simply from making other people happy. It was an unmatched feeling, being able to do something that her friends inherently appreciated. Hosting the girls prior to the dance, braiding Haven’s hair, and picking up the boutonnieres; all were small ways that the redhead showed her compassion and affection. But even with the joy she felt, the redhead couldn’t help but still at Amma’s words, her raw honesty resonating deep. It was a tangible reminder that they were more alike than different, going through the same feelings and emotions as a result of tonight’s event.
“Neither have I, you know. We’re all in the same boat, you’re not alone here.” She chimed in, her eyes shining with unspoken understanding. New experiences were scary, and tonight, it seemed they all would be stepping out of their comfort zones for the first time. Clasping her hands together, Aurora inclined her head towards her bedroom, “I’m going to go get changed, feel free to get dressed in my roommate’s rooms, they won’t mind.” With that, she disappeared down the hall, gently shutting her door behind her.
“They’re beautiful, Rora.” Haven called out in the other’s direction from where she’d peeked out of the bathroom to see what they’d been discussing. She had no clue what a boutonniere was until her eyes landed on the smallest bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen cradled in their hands. She figured she’d ask what kind of gift they were later. The way Harper and Amma had reacted to them, it must be some sort of grand gesture to give one away, right?
She ducked into the bathroom again and turned to her bag where it remained on the counter. Part of her wasn’t ready to leave the peace of the bathroom just yet, yearning for more of that feeling she had as her hair had been done. Her mind briefly thought about the words that had been exchanged between Amma and Aurora as she put on her jewelry. The emotions that came from it bubbled in her stomach, threatening the peace of mind she possessed until she shook the thoughts from her head.
A simple and tarnished gold necklace soon hung around her neck. Its pendant, a tiny pinecone, rested just below the notch where her collarbones met at the center. A feather pendant hung from the bracelet she spent quite some time clasping together. The effort of putting on a bracelet was reason enough for it to be a special occasion adornment. It slid down her wrist as she reached for her ears, her fingers nimbly clasping in the mid-sized golden hoops that now hung from her lobes. They were another special piece for her, but the reason wasn’t because of how impractical they were or how they could easily be torn from her ears. She looked at them in the mirror and the smile that they brought to her lips was because of the memory they summoned from within the depths of her soul. It was hazy, centered only on the golden hoops that shined from the ears of a woman with lighter hair than her own, and yet she knew who it was that wore them. She figured she looked just like her now as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, with her eyes smoked delicately and her hair done to the side. Her baby hairs curled away from the frame of her maturing face.
She wondered what her mother would think of her, with her tawny feathers and resilient character.
One of her curls drifted away from her face and back again with the soft sigh that escaped through her nose. Her head turned away from the mirror, away from the wonderings of a child still cradled by her heart, and she moved to exit the safe space that had been created within the dorm. Her hand reached for the strap of the duffle and she pulled it out of the bathroom with her.
“I’ll put my dress on in one of the rooms.” She soon said in the direction of the table as her free hand reached for the silky green that hung between the dazzling red and deep black fabric within the closet. The hanger held above her head to avoid dragging the bottom along the floor. She began her way towards one of the empty rooms with it, only stopping outside of the door to offer a few more words to the others. “I’m down to take another shot after we get dressed.”
“Oh, and aren’t the flowers a prom thing? Will someone explain that to me before we go?” She continued absentmindedly as a movie she’d seen once popped into her head, the memory distracting her as she disappeared behind the door.
Harper placed the boutonniere back in the box, her fingers lingering for a moment on the fine petals. Her mind shifted gears from the nervous excitement of the evening to the practical question posed by her winged friend. She’d always been the type to notice details, a trait honed by years of observing the world around her. Her military upbringing had instilled in her a habit of understanding the traditions and customs of different events, even those as seemingly trivial as school dances. It was a skill that had served her well, though she often found herself detached from the social rituals that fascinated others.
As she straightened up, Harper’s thoughts drifted back to her childhood. The rigid structure of her upbringing had left little room for the frivolities of teenage life, especially once she'd lost her parents. School dances, with their glittering decorations and awkward small talk, had never held much appeal for her. Yet, standing here now, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the world she had once dismissed so easily.
“They are,” Harper called out, her voice carrying through the room as she moved toward the closet where her dress hung. “The boutonniere is usually worn by the guy, and it’s meant to match the corsage that the girl wears. It’s a way of showing you’re a pair, kind of like a small symbol of being together for the night.” She reached for the dress, its silky fabric cool beneath her fingers as she carefully slid it out of the protective plastic and off the hanger. The sensation of the smooth material against her skin brought a sense of calm, grounding her in the present.
“Thanks,” the muffled words carried through the doorway Haven disappeared into.
Turning, her dress draped over her arm, Harper headed toward one of the empty rooms to change. She could hear the faint rustle of the dress as it brushed against her skin, and as she closed the door behind her, the brunette took a deep breath, savouring the brief moment of solitude before the night was set to unfold.
Amma twirls the (boutonniere, Harper called it, right) through her elegant gestures; the white is stark against her inked fingers, brushed softly over her scars as a single splotch of near-delicate purity for the symbolism it carried. The distinction of their purpose, the gift that it was, is a practice lost upon her typical graces; Amma realizes she’s never given something so mundane as a gift, her power and strength often proffered or taken and used, for all the world glimpsed and saw was the creature that carried destruction in her eternal renown and wake. Here, though, in the shared rooms of Aurora and her friends, with Harper and Haven too with their dresses in tow, it does something to Amma, that beast that usually lay betwixt heart and soul reared an eye of sheering blue and peered deep into the depths of her melancholy. The disparity of her circumstances still lingered there on the precipice of her mind, the chasm of the unknown revealing all that she desired and the questions that amalgamated betwixt the pain and rage therein. Carefully, she places the boutonniere back within the box (she recalls, once before, laying flowers somewhere else too, but they glistened red, liken to blood) and moves to retrieve her dress. Did she deserve these fine drapings of silk and refinement? No, maybe not she who thrummed away at the surface of her self made into doubt and agony, but the woman that shimmered through her facade of black and golds, the girl that would clutch white flowers within her grasp and glide across the dance floor to give to him, yes, she maybe deserved it. At least, that is what she tells herself.
With a touch of lingering elegance, Amma pulled the dress down, shed away the plastic, and gathered the pooling fabric into her hands. Next, she secured her shoes, hooking them on her index finger, before she disappeared into the only room left to change.
There was silence in the dark room that Haven had chosen. The winged woman’s mind was busy, her body tense as her gaze moved over the dorm of a stranger. An unknown friend of a friend who decorated the walls and shelves just as much as the living area beyond the door behind. They searched for any sign of life within, and only when she knew that she was truly alone her gaze rested on the window that hung on the wall opposite.
She scoffed at herself for a moment. It felt silly how her heart began to thump at the sight of it. How her mind viewed it as a source of fear instead of the freedom it used to grant her. It left a sour taste in the back of her throat that made her press her lips together and swallow.
In the room next to Haven’s, Harper held up her dress, studying its elegant lines as the light spilling through the window played off its deep, rich colour. The red fabric shimmered subtly, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. It was a far cry from the practical, simple clothing she was used to wearing, the first thing she’d noted when she’d first seen it. This dress was a statement, bold and striking, much like the evening ahead. There was an undeniable allure to it, something that made her feel… different.
As she continued to gaze at the dress, Harper felt a flutter of excitement mixed with a twinge of anxiety. The dress demanded attention, and wearing it meant stepping out of her comfort zone. It was a strange sensation, this blend of anticipation and nervousness, like standing on the edge of a cliff and preparing to leap. There was also something about it that made her feel a bit more daring, a bit more alive. Maybe even a bit excited.
But in an “I almost want to throw up everything in my stomach” kind of way.
A similar unease simmered in Haven, though for very different reasons. A muted wave of caution and paranoia fuelled her muscles as she moved towards the window with a deliberate pace. The liquor gave her the courage to face it. She was grateful for the chance to put her mind at rest because of it as she reached its closed frame. The duffle was dropped onto the floor below the sill with a dull thump. Her freed hand reached for the handle on the bottom rail with purpose. It lingered above it for one hesitant moment, her buzzing mind grappling with the fear of what this act meant to her, and the frustration of needing to check a stranger's window.
Damn it all.
Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal and tugged, and as she should have expected, the window didn’t budge. Locked windows were a comforting presence in her life these days. Much like the man she was putting on such a beautiful dress for. Her lungs pulled in the air within the room, filling themselves to capacity, and when she’d been sated on the oxygen that filled her blood she released it. Her anxiety was expelled along with the CO2 they exhaled.
She didn’t turn on the lights as she pulled her bag into the center of it. The light of the evening sun outside was enough to illuminate the room. It cast a warm glow on her skin as she gently pulled off the clothes she’d come in. They dropped to the floor at her feet one by one until she stood in her natural state save for the lacy bottoms she’d chosen to wear underneath. Her feet lifted one before the other as she soon stepped into her dress. Her balance shifted unexpectedly, wings flaring a moment as she recovered. How many shots had she taken, again?
Shaking her head, she pulled the dress up her lithe body, the green catching at her hips. She’d forgotten about the zipper. It was zipped down, enough to pull the thin straps over her shoulders, and then pulled back up to close a few inches below the feathers that adorned her back. She bent over to shove her clothes in her bag and retrieve her shoes from within. The heels were hung from her fingers by the straps, her other hand gripping the bag again as she returned to the living room where she sat on the chair she’d gotten her makeup done in. She had just begun to put the uncommon shoe choice on when she heard a door open nearby.
In the mirror, Harper caught a glimpse of herself, her dress hugging her form in a way that highlighted the elegant lines of her figure, the deep colour complementing the natural tones of her skin. She tilted her head slightly, examining the way the fabric draped and flowed all the way down to her legs, accentuating her curves with subtle grace. She almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her. The person in the mirror was still Harper, of course, but there was something undeniably different about her—something more confident, more willing to step into the unknown. A memory flickered in the back of her mind, of a time when she’d seen herself in a dress before, though the details were hazy, blurred by time and the grief that had followed.
She wondered, not for the first time, what her parents would think if they could see her now. Would they be proud of the woman she was? Of who she was becoming? Harper imagined their faces, etched with pride at first, and then concern.
She shook the thought from her head, unwilling to let it drag her back into the past where shadows of old memories lurked. Tonight was about the present, about embracing the moment with open arms and a willing heart. Harper gave herself one last look in the mirror, her eyes tracing the contours of her reflection, before turning away, the rustle of the dress following her like a whisper. Before she left the room, she was tempted only once, her hand resting on the cool, brass doorknob. A small, quiet part of her wanted to stay here, in this safe, private space where she didn’t have to face the uncertainties of the night ahead. But another part of her, the part that had agreed to go to the dance with a man she barely knew but was looking forward to seeing soon, urged her forward.
She wasn’t the same person she’d been a year ago, or even a week ago. She was stronger now, more resilient. And tonight, she was ready to prove it—to herself, if no one else.
So, with a final glance back at the room, Harper opened the door and stepped out.
In the privacy and solitude of her room, Aurora stepped into her dress, letting the chiffon fabric glide across her skin as she pulled the bodice up over her chest. The skirt swayed as she fastened the hook and eye at the back of the light blue gown before tugging the zipper, a perfect fit. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she was still overwhelmed by Tori’s selfless act of compassion, letting her borrow such a beautiful piece of her wardrobe for the night. The redhead was filled with gratitude to be here, thankful for this mundane moment of revelry amongst the backdrop of chaos the first weeks of school had wreathed.
With each accessory she adorned herself with, she felt more beautiful. Tori’s sapphire stud earrings with gems that shimmered in the light, the heart shaped pendant from her mother who she wished could see her now, and the golden ring which was gifted sat perfectly on her left ring finger. The etched licks of flame made her feel warm, brought her thoughts to him and all that he meant to her.
She’d tell him. Tonight.
Slipping on her gold heels and spritzing her rose perfume as a finishing touch, Aurora stepped out from her bedroom back into the living room, gasping as she saw Haven and Harper in their dresses.
“You both look gorgeous.” She complimented, grinning from ear to ear, “Seriously, stunning.”
Haven’s head finally turned away from the straps of her heels as she pushed herself off of her chair. She now stood at her full height, plus the two inches her shoes granted her. The angle of her feet also added definition to the toned muscles of her left leg that peeked out between the slit in her dress. She returned the wide smile that Aurora displayed, crinkles forming around her eyes as she too expressed her thoughts proudly.
“Aurora, you look like a princess!” She began before turning her eyes to Harper. “And Harps- wow, I’m so glad you went with the red. It’s breathtaking.” Her thoughts continued to spill from her lips easily, the excitement of the moment making any residual feelings she had for her brunette friend after the awkwardness of earlier disappear from her mind. “You’re also taller than me now. It feels right.”
Haven’s comment drew a soft chuckle from Harper, a sound that felt both foreign given recent events and freeing because it just felt good to laugh.
“If I trip over these heels…I’m blaming you both,” she quipped, a smirk playing on her lips. She’d originally picked up a pair of simple flats on their shopping trip, envisioning the comfort they would bring throughout the night. But the twin incredulous stares from Aurora and Haven had been enough to make her reconsider. Somewhat regretfully, Harper had put the flats back down. Not that she didn’t like the heels she’d ended up with—at least she’d had the morning to break them in, though her feet still ached slightly from the effort.
Harper turned to Aurora then, her eyes widening as she truly took in the sight of her best friend in her stunning light blue gown. She almost looked like she had stepped out of a fairy tale, much like her namesake.
“That dress is perfect on you, Ror,” Harper said, her words genuine but also intended to lift her friend’s spirits.
Amma stared at her dress, gauging the ensemble as a knight would regard their armor.
She had sworn to be devastating and refused to be anything less. As a creature of vanity and hubris, bedeviled with greed and lust, a glutton of insatiable qualms and talents and fed persistently in the allurement she embodied, she would dare reveal the scars that lined her body as tales intertwined with morbid fascination. She poured into the garment with relative ease, adjusting silk against the golden shimmer palmed to her skin, swathes of black expertly aligned against her curves, the color of obsidian silk to emphasize the flaxen hue of her skin. Waxen and beholden to a particular glow, the material clung to her torso, accentuating the lines of her figure. A daring plunge, her neckline scooped low, parting lines of silk over her breasts, and adorned in chiffon that swept out into loose and draping sleeves that fell against slender arms and exposed lithe shoulders. It was all artfully done panels of fabric that fell over her figure, cinched in places before flaring dramatically in others. At her back, she felt the most extended pieces of her hair sweep against the links of her spine, the skirt of her dress extending behind her in shimmering capes, the weight pulled at the panels over her thighs, daring to embellish the asymmetrical slit that parted over scars and skin and ink. Both legs were similarly exposed to elongate the length of her swagger with every step she made, and there, she tugged a laughably short zipper into place and angled her body to glimpse the most severe scars on her back.
With the inked work framed against her bones, she was the visual representation of the macabre and life undone, a ravishing of the most catastrophic of dames that did little to conceal her flaws and wore such with a defying ruthlessness in the daring reveals of skin. Chaos reigned true in the flutter of lashes there, her hair falling to one side as she bent at the waist and slid delicately into heels strapped around her ankles, simplistic stilettos in a velvety black that she clasped closed, dainty toes and adorned in simple polish and affording her a couple of inches.
Amma regaled herself as a queen to the court and contemplated her state of wear with silence. Previous nerves fell away into a coil of unease that flitted away on the precipice of her confidence, the dress chosen having done wonders to balm away her uncertainty. It all came away into something still unknown, the in-between that she was that spelled into the assumption of one thing: danger. Madness.
She merely laughed to herself before she gathered her discarded clothing and left the room, closing the door behind her as excited words fell upon her ears and observed each of the girls in their own armor: red, green, and blue. Primary splashes of color against the black of her selection, each framed in beauty and elegance, transformed from girls into women who dominated their respective strengths and heralded their prowess by the garments adorned to their physiques. Amma placed her clothes with her cosmetic kit, silently procuring various metals of simplistic jewelry: a few rings to adorn her scarred fingers, a bracelet of gold, and then one of silver to nestle beside it. She kept to the usual black stud in her ears, gold hoop through her septum, and opted away from a necklace, allowing the bisected moth and scar to remain seen for all the world to regard, for hiding such beneath a pendant or a string of sparkling adornment seemed dismissive of the trials and pain she had faced against the manifestation of her would-be self had she been known as Beloved. With a soft breath and a sweep through her mane of hair, she said:
"You all look beautiful. Your dates should be so lucky."
Haven’s jaw dropped a fraction as her gaze swept over the raven haired woman, quickly corrected by the wide smile that returned to her lips. Amma’s tragic beauty was outlined by the contrast of the darkest black against her scarred and pale skin. She’d never seen her look so regal.
“You look gorgeous, Amma.” She offered happily, before she gently clapped her hands together. “Let’s take one more shot before we go, if you’re up for it.”
That said, Haven returned to her drink station by the fridge. She began to pour a single into the glass she’d left there, tossing a look over her shoulder. “If you’d like one, bring your glass over. But no pressure this time.”
“You really do, Amma,” Aurora concurred, but gorgeous didn’t even cover how devastating the raven haired girl was in that dress. A lethal kind of beauty that few could match, she was certain all eyes would be on her at the dance, including his. And for that, she felt a new emotion towards Amma, one that she hadn’t felt before. Envy. The redhead grabbed her glass, another shot sounding like exactly what she needed in that moment. But as she filled it, a sound echoed through the dorm.
A knock on the door.
Looking down at her phone, 8:03pm stared back at Aurora, all signs pointing to the fact that her date had just arrived and it was time to face the music. Part of her had hoped the girls would have left by now so she didn’t have to reveal the situation to them like this, but of course things never went according to plan.
“I’ll get it,” The redhead quickly chimed before anyone else could offer, her voice a slightly higher pitch in her unease. She made her way towards the door and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror before opening it. Sure enough, standing there waiting was Chadwick Patterson, dressed in a tailored black suit that looked like it had been made specifically for him. His eyes wandered, taking in Aurora’s appearance, a roguish smirk tugging on his lips, before returning his gaze to hers.
“Wow, Aurora, you look…” He smiled, a genuine wide smile, shaking his head as if he was in disbelief of his luck, “You look amazing. Ready to go?”
“Thank you,” Aurora couldn’t help but blush, not having expected such a compliment or reaction from him. “Yeah, let me just get my bag,” Turning around, she looked at her friends sheepishly before walking to the kitchen table and grabbing her clutch. Fishing inside, she grabbed her key and handed it to Harper. “Just, uh, lock the door behind you and make sure the lights are off, I’ll clean up tomorrow.” Chad took a step into the dorm, not having expected an audience.
“Ladies,” He greeted politely with a nod towards Amma, Harper, and Haven, a debonair quality about him.
Harper took the key from Aurora, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Chad, sizing him up in a single, practiced sweep of her gaze. His suit was impeccable, tailored to perfection, and he carried himself with a confidence that seemed to belong at a formal event. Still, there was something almost too perfect about him, a polished veneer that made her want to scratch the surface.
“Well, it’s good to see you dressed for the occasion, Chad,” she said, her tone casual but with a hint of amusement. She let her gaze linger on him for a moment longer, noting the way his suit accentuated his frame, before adding, “Aurora clearly has an eye for… last-minute decisions.” The irony of her words was not lost on Harper, considering how meticulously she’d planned the movie night with Aurora. But then again, she wasn’t the one arriving on someone’s arm in a suit that screamed “I planned this weeks ago”.
Meanwhile, Haven had smoothly made her way to where Aurora set her shot down the moment she heard his voice at the door, taking it into her hand as if it were her own. She quickly threw the shot back before the redhead could notice, her wings twitching with the laugh she suppressed while Harper mused behind her. Her secret mission complete, and empty shot glass still in hand, Haven turned to greet the unexpected date with a less than friendly smile.
“Don’t you look like a gentleman tonight.” She said with a gesture at his suit. Her eyebrow rose a fraction, green and gold eyes seeming to convey what she would have said if Aurora wasn’t within earshot. Hope he acts like one too.
Amma doesn’t say anything. While Harper and Haven greet him, their unspooling tension and perplexity compounded by things left unsaid and pinging away betwixt her ears, she merely stares Chadwick Patterson down. A siring of blue eyes that immediately flashed silver, for this was not the man she expected to greet them at Aurora’s door, and the way he gravitated towards locks of spun gold, a halo of innocence and promising beauty that she was, he was likened to a sensual beast prepared to pounce and devour. Another predator, a dangerous fragment that she recognized immediately for the reputation he heralded in Gulo, even she knew of him, his likeness that girls fell over and then wept for becoming cruelly enraptured by false hopes.
The glass in her hand immediately shatters. Fated wisps of scarlet sheer through the weeping lines in her palms, plinking graces of sound and glass fragments that are swept and feathered away into nothing by the swell of silver and black that oozes away from her pores. The sudden wounds in her skin immediately fed with the ambient HZEs that lance through the room, and there Amma turned her eyes towards Aurora, and though her full lips stayed sealed, the fettered emotions within those half-bidden lashes sheer into a glare. She shakes out her hand, bones cracking, fingers splayed as the slivers of crimson lined into her hand slowly fade, along with the wealth of her stare as she calmly turns and plucks one of the boutonnieres from the box and gathers her things with silent efficiency. She spared no words or explanations; she didn’t have a date for the evening, so no caller would come to collect her, and she would not be so designed to wait. Amma’s memory returned to their shared words in the ward, all the laments of love, hope, and desire that defied, no, betrayed, the reveal that Chad and not Lorcán came for Aurora’s hand.
“Have fun, girls. I’ll see you all later,” she said aloud, not sparing Chad another look before she driftedcloser to Aurora. Her head was canted, her gaze trailing down and then up in slow increments before she whispered, “Be careful.”
And then Amma left; she had a certain someone to find.
Following Amma’s small outburst, Haven held her breath as she turned to clean up what little mess they’d made on the kitchen counter. Rory would be arriving outside soon, anyway. She placed the empty glasses in the sink, her gaze hesitating on her own remaining shot. It was too tempting to take it, but even she was aware that her high tolerance had its limit. So she poured it out in the sink, a small tribute to Calli who was in the states and for Katja, who was nowhere to be found these days.
She finally took a breath as she moved to shove the near empty bottle in her duffle. “Rora, I’m gonna leave my bag in your closet. I’ll grab it from you tomorrow, if that’s alright.” She turned to offer a small smile in her direction. “Have fun tonight. I’ll be around if you need anything.”
Aurora watched the reactions from her teammates, took in their expressions as they each realized that Chad was her date to the dance. Harper’s demeanor was expected, Haven’s too, but it was Amma’s visceral response that she was taken aback by. Her whispered words lingered even after she left the dorm, words of warning that the redhead didn’t comprehend. Shaking off the discomfort that quickly settled within her, she picked up one of the boutonnieres from the box along with her clutch and approached Chad with a shy smile before looking back at Haven.
“Of course, no problem,” She answered, before returning her gaze to the boy next to her. “Alright, shall we?”
“We shall.” Chad offered the redhead his arm, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it, noticing instantly how he didn’t radiate any warmth. With a nod, the two walked out of the dorm and towards the A.R.C. where the dance awaited them.
Harper watched as Aurora took Chad’s arm, the pair heading out the door toward the dance. The room felt quieter, emptier, once they were gone, leaving just her and Haven behind. Her gaze trailed from the closed door to the spot where Amma had stood. The shattered glass had vanished, but the friction that had passed between them all was still felt to a degree, a subtle undercurrent that refused to be ignored.
She let out a slow breath, leaning against the counter as her thoughts drifted. Aurora had chosen Chad, but that choice hadn’t been her first. Harper knew that all too well. There was a certain irony in how the redhead had ended up with Chad at the last minute, and it wasn’t lost on Harper that she herself had made a choice for the dance too—one that wasn’t exactly her first either, a decision that mirrored Aurora’s in its own way.
Cass wasn’t the first person who came to mind when she thought about the dance, and in some ways, he was the easier choice compared to Gil. There wasn’t the same history, the same tension that seemed to coil around her whenever she thought of her charismatic teammate. But as she stood there, leaning against the counter, she found herself not regretting it. Unlike how Aurora probably felt, Harper felt a sense of calm, a quiet acceptance that maybe, just maybe, the easier choice wasn’t such a bad one after all.
With that thought, Harper reached into the pocket of the hoodie draped over her arm and pulled out her phone. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she typed out a quick message to Cass: See you soon. The simplicity of the message seemed right. It was a promise fulfilled without the complications of the past. She hit send, feeling a flutter of anticipation in her chest.
She slipped her phone into her bra—how unlike her to not think of buying a clutch—and started toward the door, hanging her hoodie in the closet as she passed. Just as she reached for the handle, Harper paused, her hand hovering in mid-air. She turned back to Haven, who was tidying up the last remnants of the evening’s preparations, the words forming on her lips before she finally spoke.
“You coming?” the brunette asked with a half-smile, her voice breaking the stillness of the room.
“Yeah, one sec.” Haven hummed as she dried her hands on the hand towel by the sink. She reached for her duffle from the table, fishing out her flip phone from the bag as she heard the buzz of a notification from within. The duffle was then stashed in the closet before she slipped out of the dorm between Harper and the doorframe, her wings tucking into her back to avoid a group of passing students in their finery. She stood with Harper as the door was locked, sucking on her teeth before taking a short breath. “Rory’s here, so I’m gonna walk with him.” Her eyes flitted between the similar hazels in front of her. She knew Harper had her date, and even her friend in case she needed someone, but she had to make sure that Harper knew Haven cared for her despite the tension that lingered between them. After all that had happened since the school year began, she wasn’t sure she’d ever assume an event at PRCU would be peaceful again. “I hope you have a good time tonight, too. Feel free to call if you need anything.” Her smile was quick, a small effort, before she turned her wings to the brunette to make her way out of the Myotis dorm.
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