[indent][color=#a9a9a9]The bedroom was imbued with an understated serenity, the amber glow of a solitary lamp spilling across the walls in warm, honeyed strokes. Shadows pooled in the corners, deepening the room’s texture, while the muted whir of a fan harmonized with the soft rustling of scattered papers. She sat perched on the bed, her legs folded beneath her, surrounded by a chaotic mosaic of notes and schematics that blanketed the comforter like windblown leaves in autumn. Her dark hair, loosely tied, rebelled against its constraints; stray strands framed her face, unnoticed in her absorption. Meanwhile, the fabric of her well-worn pyjamas clung in familiar folds, drawn taut over the gentle arc of her pregnancy—a quiet, persistent testament to the burgeoning life she carried.

Yet, for all the comfort the room exuded, Anna’s attention was elsewhere, tethered to the labyrinth of her thoughts.

Her brow knit in concentration as her finger glided along the diagram of a meticulously designed glove, annotations crowding its margins with notes. Critical components leapt from the page—pressure-sensitive nodes embedded in the fingertips to monitor HZE flux, micro-actuators lining the wrist for optimal dexterity, and an intricate energy modulation array to temper volatile surges. Though the concept appeared straightforward, the execution demanded surgical precision, every component a delicate cog in a larger, interdependent mechanism. These gloves weren’t conceived as inhibitors, crude tools of suppression, but as instruments of harmony—designed to stabilize and refine abilities that threatened to spiral beyond the user's control.

Anna tapped the schematic’s edge with her pencil, her thoughts spiralling through the complexities. The adaptive feedback loop at the heart of her design demanded painstaking recalibration, a task rendered all the more arduous by the boundless variability of hyperhuman physiology. Each individual’s abilities, as singular as crystalline snowflakes, necessitated a mechanism both endlessly flexible and unerringly exact—a feat that often felt like trying to bottle the wind. The enormity of the challenge bore down on her, an invisible pressure that threatened to crush her resolve. It was as though she were tasked with carving perfection from shifting sands, the ground beneath her work constantly in flux. And yet, as insurmountable as it seemed, she couldn’t stop. Even with the looming reality of her body stretched to its limits, her pregnancy a constant reminder of how close she was to bringing a new life into the world, she pressed on.  

“[color=#006C00]Maybe a localized HZE modulation system…[/color]” she murmured to herself, jotting the thought into the margin of the page. Her solution, if it worked, would allow users to channel their abilities safely, minimizing risks like neural fatigue or system overload. It was a delicate balance—one that required a blend of cutting-edge engineering and deep knowledge of hyperhuman biology.

“[color=#006C00]Now, if only I could just…[/color]” she murmured again, her voice tapering off as frustration drove her to shift a cluster of papers aside. Her hand halted when it connected with a wrinkled envelope concealed beneath the layers of her work. The elegant cursive script on its surface hinted at a meaningful intent, suggesting significance that had previously been shrouded in obscurity. She recognized that its true content lay buried in the depths of her unfinished tasks, silently beckoning her attention and embodying choices and challenges—[i]requests[/i]—that required consideration.

Anna's attention remained fixed on the envelope for a moment, her hand gently resting on her abdomen. She bit her lower lip as she reflected on her situation, considering the numerous obligations that awaited her, both imposed by others and self-created. In her mind's eye, she envisioned her children’s future and grappled with the fear that they might inherit their father's struggles or instead find comfort in a more supportive setting. She recognized that life often presented injustices to individuals like herself, who possessed no extraordinary gifts. Yet, she realized it was likely even more challenging for people like James, whose uninvited abilities rendered him an outcast in the eyes of society.

A society that labelled them as different. A society that instilled fear towards them. 

With a weary sigh, Anna eased back against the plush pillows, her eyes drifting shut in a rare moment of reprieve. The day’s weight lingered in her chest, but the soft creak of the bedroom door pulled her back to the present. She straightened instinctively, her hands pressing against the mattress as James stepped inside, balancing a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The sight of him coaxed a quiet smile to her lips, the kind that felt like a small victory after an arduous battle.

“[color=#C2E0B7]Here ya go—peanut butter and pickle sandwich, just like ya ordered,[/color]” he said, setting the plate on the nightstand with a flourish. “[color=#C2E0B7]Because nothin’ says ‘pregnancy craving’ like an absolute culinary abomination.[/color]”

Anna's smile widened momentarily, her worries dissipating as if they had never been. “[color=#006C00]You say ‘abomination,’ but I say ‘delight.’ Don’t blame me, though—it’s your kid in here callin' the shots.[/color]”

“[color=#C2E0B7]Fair enough, but it's your kid too,[/color]” James retorted lightly as he settled beside her on the bed, gesturing toward the scattered schematics. “[color=#C2E0B7]And I coulda sworn we were supposed to have a date night tonight. Hmm.[/color]” He scratched his chin in mock contemplation, feigning ignorance. “[color=#C2E0B7]Wonder what happened there.[/color]”

Anna chuckled softly, her laugh easing some of the tension in the room. She gathered the disordered papers in her lap, carefully stacking them with the crumpled envelope on top. “[color=#006C00]Oh, you mean the date night where you spend the whole evenin’ tryin’ to distract me from thinkin’ about work?[/color]”

“[color=#C2E0B7]Exactly that one,[/color]” James said, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “[color=#C2E0B7]You know, the one where I bring out my [i]A-game[/i]—askin’ deep, meaningful questions like whether pickles even belong in the universe, let alone on a sandwich, and then challengin’ you to prove me wrong.[/color]”

She snorted, shaking her head. “[color=#006C00]And here I thought I married a man with refined conversation skills.[/color]”

“[color=#C2E0B7]Hey,[/color]” he feigned offence, “[color=#C2E0B7]I’m a man of mystery. Besides, the whole point of a date night is to get away from all this work.[/color]” He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. “[color=#C2E0B7]And I can’t believe that [i]I’m [/i]the one that’s sayin’ this. Sierra’s off with Barbara tonight—a real babysitter, can you believe that?—and you’re still here, knee-deep in blueprints.[/color]”

Anna rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her smile betrayed her affection. “[color=#006C00]Okay, point taken. But,[/color]” she said, plucking a schematic from the stack and holding it up like an ace in a card game,“[color=#006C00]This is the future, James. It’s not just work. It’s…[/color]” She trailed off, searching for the right words, her gaze falling to the crumpled envelope.

Noticing the shift in her demeanour, James set his teasing aside, his voice softening as he retrieved the plate from the nightstand. “[color=#C2E0B7]It’s important. I know….[/color]” he finished for her.

Anna nodded, the weight of his understanding easing a fraction of the tension coiled within her. She accepted the plate, her so-called “abomination” remaining untouched for the moment. “[color=#006C00]I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about how many people could benefit from this—how many lives could change if I get it right. But at the same time, all I can see are the gaps. All the things I don’t know yet… maybe things I’ll never figure out.[/color]”

James tilted his head, his gaze carrying a warmth that cut through her doubt like sunlight through a fog. “[color=#C2E0B7]You always do this,[/color]” he said softly. “[color=#C2E0B7]You carry everything on your own shoulders like it’s your job to fix the world.[/color]”

“[color=#006C00]If I don’t, who will?[/color]” Anna challenged. “[color=#006C00]I’m tryin’ to create somethin’ that gives people a chance, here. It’s about makin’ sure people like you don’t have to struggle the way you did.[/color]”

James’s expression softened further, a quiet understanding in his eyes as he reached out to place a hand gently on her abdomen.“[color=#C2E0B7]And people like her,[/color]” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

“[color=#006C00]And people like her,[/color]” Anna repeated, the words carrying a weight that neither of them needed to explain. She finally picked up her sandwich, taking a bite before adding through a muffled chew, “[color=#006C00]If it’s a ‘her,’[/color]” pausing to swallow mid-sentence before finishing, “[color=#006C00]Of course.[/color]”

“[color=#C2E0B7]It’s a her,[/color]” James said confidently, leaning back with an air of certainty, “[color=#C2E0B7]I can feel it in my gut.[/color]”

“[color=#006C00]Your gut isn’t exactly a reliable metric, dear,[/color]” Anna teased. “[color=#006C00]Besides, what are you going to do if it’s a boy?[/color]”

James grinned, leaning forward as if he had been waiting for this moment their entire married life. “[color=#C2E0B7] Easy. Name him J.J.[/color]”

“[color=#006C00]J.J.?[/color]” Anna raised a brow, skeptical.

“[color=#C2E0B7]James Junior,[/color]” he replied, his smugness palpable.

Anna groaned theatrically, though her laughter undercut her protest. “[color=#006C00]Over my dead body,[/color]” she shot back, shaking her head as their laughter mingled. 

James chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.“[color=#C2E0B7]Alright, fine. What about a girl?[/color]”

Anna hesitated, her playful smile fading into a pensive expression.“[color=#006C00]I don’t know yet,[/color]” she admitted,  her thumb absentmindedly brushing the edge of the crumpled envelope. “[color=#006C00] It has to feel… right. Somethin’ that fits her. Somethin’ like—[/color]” Her voice trailed off, her gaze fixed on the envelope’s worn surface as if it held the answer she was searching for.  

The lighthearted air between them shifted, giving way to something deeper. 

“[color=#006C00]You know, I’ve been thinkin’ about something… about someone,[/color]” Anna began, her voice quieter now, tinged with a blend of empathy and urgency. “[color=#006C00]A woman wrote to me last month—a mother. She’s desperate. Her son’s just startin’ to show signs of his ability, and it’s… too much for him. She’s terrified he’ll hurt someone, James. He won’t even leave his room most days.[/color]” 

Her words quickened, spilling out as though she couldn’t contain the flood of emotion behind them.  “[color=#006C00]And he’s not alone. There are so many kids like him. People thrown into situations they’re not ready for, scared outta their minds. You know what happens—a pyrokinetic doesn’t have to try to burn a room down when they’re panicked. It’s just… their body reacting. Adrenaline spikes, stress hormones take over, and they lose control. It’s not their fault, but they’re the ones who pay the price.[/color]” 

She picked up one of the diagrams, holding it between them as if it were a talisman.  “[color=#006C00]But this—this could change that. It’s not like dampeners, shutting people’s abilities down. It’s about stabilization, giving them the tools to regulate their powers, to understand them. It could make training programs safer, help with rehabilitation, or just make daily life bearable for someone whose powers are unpredictable. Someone like…[/color]” She hesitated, her eyes meeting his. 

“[color=#006C00]Someone like you.[/color]”

James regarded her with a steady attentiveness once she finished speaking, his hazel eyes—so much like the ones Harper would one day inherit—glinting with a blend of understanding and subtle admiration. “[color=#C2E0B7]Darlin’,[/color]” he began, his voice laced with gentle humour, “[color=#C2E0B7]just to remind you… you married a very, very simple man. All this—even just in theory? It’s pretty damn impressive. Maybe a 'lil ambitious, sure, but impressive all the same.[/color]”

Anna laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders dissipating slightly.“[color=#006C00]Sorry… I guess I got carried away,[/color]”  she admitted, her voice lighter now. Her lips quirked into a sheepish smile as her gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers twisting together in an unconscious display of nerves.

James leaned closer, his tone turning warm and earnest.“[color=#C2E0B7]No need to apologize. You’ve got a big heart…. bigger than most. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.[/color]”

Her cheeks flushed a faint, rosy hue, and she shook her head, her humility tinged with gratitude. “[color=#006C00]I just… I just want kids to stay that way,[/color]” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “[color=#006C00]To still be kids.[/color]” 

Her gaze lowered, falling to her rounded abdomen, and her hand instinctively rested there, cradling the life growing within her. Her words hung in the air like a quiet wish, tender and profound. 

“[color=#006C00]Just a girl.[/color]”
[/color][/indent] 
[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/1vbnYODenOFCFWxYNRYw1N?si=8db23fa0e714443d][img]https://i.imgur.com/J2U7cX4.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR][I] The Foundation Institute[/I] - [I] Atlantic Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Human #5.074:[/b][/COLOR][I] What's in a Name[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I] N/A[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I] Sentio ergo sum[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color]

[indent][color=#a9a9a9]The restroom lay in a state of stasis, its silence punctuated only by the drone of the fluorescent lights overhead and the intermittent cadence of water droplets, a melancholic sound of some unseen spigot’s weary confession.

[i]Drip[/i]

Harper braced herself against the porcelain basin in front of her, her quivering hands gripping its edge with an intensity that defied her diminished strength. It was not mere fatigue that weighed upon her however—it was the indelible sting of mortification, fresh and unrelenting, the infernal rush of blood that warmed her cheeks giving its presence away though her sightless gaze could not confirm what she knew to be true.

The scene in the dining hall replayed in her mind in excruciating detail. She felt again the knot tightening in her abdomen, the visceral betrayal of her frame as it faltered beneath the suffocating deluge of heightened perception. Every detail etched itself into her memory, refusing to blur or fade.

And then, the laughter—piercing, caustic, inescapable. It had erupted not from a single direction but from everywhere at once, encircling her in its dissonant chorus. Yet, as her mind replayed the moment now, subtle distinctions emerged. Not every sound had been laced with derision. Some of the chuckles had carried an unmistakable hesitance as if their originators wavered between discomfort and the instinct to respond to something they couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps their intent had not been malicious.

Perhaps it was worse. That they’d [i]pitied[/i] her.[right]And what the fuck was she supposed to do with that?[/right]

Blindness. What should have been a reprieve from the unrelenting sharpness that had carved her identity into polarizing extremes, felt instead like retribution. It was no gift. It was no mercy. It was an admonition, a cautionary tether yanking her back toward some inevitable reckoning she hadn’t meant to bring about. But that wasn’t true, was it? She’d asked for it, practically [i]begged[/i] for it.

Her grip on the sink slackened as her trembling hands rose to her face, the cool heels of her palms pressing against her eyes in a futile attempt to block out the unrelenting torrent of imagery. 

The darkness behind her lids was no refuge, was it? For how could a punishment forged in the crucible of her own torment suddenly transform into a blessing?

When the nausea finally ebbed, when she no longer could feel the acidic burn of her throat, Harper turned the faucet’s knob, letting the cold stream spill over her hands. The sensation was bracing, but she cupped her palms and splashed the icy water onto her face anyway, the sting of it anchoring her, if only tenuously, to the present.

But what now?

She couldn’t remain here indefinitely, entombed in her own hesitation like some fragile thing. Hiding wasn’t her way—it never had been.

She was Harper Baxter, for fuck’s sake. The seeker of the unseen, the unspoken, and the imperceptible truths others were either too blind or too cowardly to confront.

When had she started believing that this unrelenting pursuit of clarity, the instinct to delve where others dared not to, was something to be ashamed of?

[color=#8A9A5B]“Get it together,”[/color] she muttered under her breath as her fingers adjusted the blindfold resting over her eyes. [color=#8A9A5B]“You’ve faced worse. You’ve overcome worse.”[/color] The fabric clung securely to her face, veiling her gaze and the strange, fleeting metallic sheen that had flickered across her eyes earlier. She didn’t know what it meant and wasn’t about to let herself dwell on it. This was neither the time nor the place to sit on yet another mystery.

A knock sounded at the door.

Ah, right. Harper had almost forgotten. 

The unwelcome return of her self-proclaimed saviour and therapist. 

“[color=ffffff]Uh, hey…you’re not, like, drowning yourself in there, are you?[/color]” His voice broke through, muffled slightly by the sturdy barrier between them. “’[color=ffffff]Cause, I gotta say, there are probably better ways to go than in a bathroom. You know, assuming it’s not the pissing kind.[/color]”

The humour, crass and unpolished, was delivered with a casualness that could only belong to him she realized then. Of all the people who could’ve followed her, it [i]had[/i] to be him. 

Her someone he used to know, if she could even call him that. She hadn’t asked his name, hadn’t wanted to know, and she still wasn’t sure if she cared to.

Harper moved toward the door, her fingers easily finding the handle, twisting it and pulling it open to reveal her uninvited confidant. As the door creaked open, her expression solidified into its trademark scowl—a mask as much as a message.

There was no preamble, no deference—just the one question that had been eating at her.

“[color=#8A9A5B]Why’d you do that?[/color]” Her voice was sharp, stripped of everything except raw curiosity. Why had he offered to take her here? Why had he stepped in when no one else had after she had publicly fallen apart?

She, of course, couldn’t discern the motion of his shoulders, but the tone of his reply carried the distinct air of a shrug—casual, indifferent, and pointed in its simplicity.

“[color=ffffff]Guess I don’t like seeing people singled out or so distant from others which—by the way—is the [i]second[/i] time I’ve noticed it with you.[/color]”

The remark landed with a peculiar sting, catching Harper off guard. 

[i]So distant from others.[/i][right][color=#4169e1]“Like, none of us even mattered.”[/color][/right]

Without replying, she pushed past him, her movements brusque and automatic. She focused on blocking it all out—the images, the voice, everything. Her feet carried her forward, but soon she realized she had no idea where she was going. Nowhere, it seemed, was the only destination she had in mind.

A sigh escaped her lips, heavy and resigned, as she slowly turned back to face him.

“[color=#8A9A5B]Could you just… describe it for me?[/color]” she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability. “[color=#8A9A5B]Everything...[/color]” 

She couldn’t see it. She would at least remember it. She would hold onto it all. [/color][/indent]