Baklava

World's End Online

It all happened rather quickly. Following the player in front of her, Ami didn't notice her impending doom until it was too late to slow down. Like a lemming, she also bounced off the wall and, with a distressed cry, landed squarely on top of the bunny-eared young man before he got a chance to get back on his feet.

A wave of embarrassment washed over her as she stared up at the NPC as well as another player named 'Bell Pepper', but a large grin quickly appeared in an attempt to dispel any awkwardness. She laughed nervously, struggling for a moment to scramble off of the thief she'd landed on, "S-sorry!"

Her ears flattened against her head as she held one hand up to her cheek, "I got a little too excited to start the quest." She laughed again.

World's End Online

The dimly lit bedroom of Felicity Sato had been perfectly silent that evening. Perfect, that is, until the sudden rapping on her door shattered everything. Felicity sighed, setting down a bottle of nasal spray and reaching for another tissue. She could get used to this. There'd been no sounds of vomiting from down the hall. No beeping or buzzing or groaning. No clattering dishes, either. And she certainly wouldn't miss that creaky old bed. Had it not been for the server maintainece, Felicity could perhaps have ignored the voice calling for her altogether. But alas...

"Felicity, the car's outside! Are you ready, honey?"

An old familiar voice, rank with false concern. Mrs. Mone was an old family friend, visiting from out of town for the next few weeks. And a psychiatrist.

"I'm not going!" Felicity replied through the door.

A short moment of silence followed, "Sweety, I know you're going through a lot right now, but I think--"

The door creaked open to reveal Felicity, still donning her pajamas and not at all ready to depart. To add insult to injury (or perhaps injury to insult), a steady stream of blood was presently running from her nose into a small wad of tissues. Mrs. Mone gasped and the color drained from her face. The poor woman couldn't stand the sight of blood. She stepped back, propping herself up on a nearby table.

"G-goodness," she swallowed hard, barely able to make eye contact, "Are you okay?"

"I really want to go, but I'm not feeling--" she coughed purposefully into the back of her hand, decorating the skin with ruby red droplets, "I'm not feeling so well."

Mrs. Mone seemed positively horrified, placing her hand over her stomach and gripping at the fabric of her thick black dress, "Oh God! I-is that... is that normal?"

Felicity shot her a withering smile, "It happens kind of often, yes. But I'll be alright. Don't worry."

"Right..." Mrs. Mone nodded, "I-I'll just let your parents know you... You're not well."

The woman all but sprinted for the exit, leaving Felicity to close the door behind her. She turned the lock, breathing a small sigh of relief as she heard it click.

---

Curled up on a ridiculously large pink bean bag, the body of a young woman was motionless beyond the occasional chewing of her bottom lip. An even brighter pink headset featuring rhinestone bedazzled cat ears and blinking white lights engulfed a head of pastel pink hair. The rest of the bedroom was silent and still.

In game, Ami needlessly stretched her long, lithe limbs, releasing a small yawn before she allowed herself to fully take in the surroundings. It was a pleasant surprise, seeing the adorable bunny girl as well as several other low level players gathered around for the new quest. She rushed through Terms and Conditions. There was of course a call to form a party-- not an unusual request, but one she was quite used to ignoring. Eh, she could always join a party later. With an eager grin, Ami ran for the portal.

World's End Online

Gekkou Kami - Felicity Sato

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ＡＧＥ: nineteen.

ＧＥＮＤＥＲ: female.

ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ:

Felicity stands at an imposing 5'0". She admittedly doesn't work out much but maintains a thin, albeit somewhat secretly malnourished physique. Additionally, she is not nearly as mature in some parts as she would like. She has plain brown eyes, typically kept hidden behind contact lens, of which she has just about every possible color. Her hair is dyed a cotton candy shade of pink and often tied up into two girlish buns. Her make up, when done, is almost always as vibrant as her wardrobe. Rainbows, especially of the pastel variety, are a big part of Felicity's aesthetic, although she does tend to lean towards the light purples and pinks.

ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ:

friendly. adventurous. girly. aloof. photogenic. creative. materialistic. insecure. suspicious. flaky. perfect. adorable. poser.

ＢＡＣＫＧＲＯＵＮＤ:

Felicity lives with two fairly wealthy parents. Her father is Japanese and her mother is Canadian. She has no occupation nor plans for the future. Although her bedroom is a pastel wonderland of stuffed animals, posters, figurines, and crystals, the sheer curtains are often drawn, allowing just enough light for the plants to grow. A white cat with light brown patches of fur over each eye can sometimes be seen in the windowsill. Felicity keeps to herself these days. She has no friends outside of her virtual realm and she has no intention of changing that anytime soon.

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ＩＮＧＡＭＥ ＮＡＭＥ: Gekkou Kami (Ami for short)

ＩＮＧＡＭＥ ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ:

Unlike Felicity, Gekkou Kami is a character of carefully sculpted maturity. At least when it comes to shape, standing at about 5'2". Since character creation, Felicity has obviously been unable to resist tainting the design with her own girlish flair. Dying every last part of her character into a living, breathing pastel rainbow, Ami inevitably sticks out like a sore thumb within the more medieval style setting.

ＩＮＧＡＭＥ ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ: always a performance.

ＣＬＡＳＳ: mage.

ＮＯＴＡＢＬＥ ＳＫＩＬＬＳ:

1. Spark - Fires a spark of light, capable of creating a chain between enemies who are within an arms-length proximity of each other. The spark skips from enemy to enemy, dealing a small amount of damage. Upon hitting 5 enemies, the residual spark energy reignites, causing a larger burst of damage to all 5 enemies. Long range, targeted ability. Deals moderate damage. (Moderate MP cost)

2. Dazzle - Sends a sparkly blast in a small radius, stunning up to three enemies for 3 seconds. Medium range, shot in a straight line until it hits a target. Deals slight damage. (Moderate MP cost)

3. Moonbeam - Fires a large beam of blue light from her stave, lasting 4 seconds. Ami can move the beam by pointing her staff elsewhere, but cannot move herself throughout the duration of the attack. Long range, requires 1.5 seconds to prepare to fire. Deals moderately high damage dependent on how long the target remains in the line of fire. (High MP cost)

ＥＱＵＩＰＭＥＮＴ:

-a fancy stave with a small crescent moon at one end and a large moon at the other with a light pink sphere floating inside it. tiny white crystals rotate around the head, aligning parallel with the rod when Ami activates Moonbeam.
-a croptop shirt, pants, and gloves.
-a small, ornate dagger.
-1 MP potion.

ＴＨＥＭＥ ＳＯＮＧ: t e l e p a t h テレパシー能力者 - 永遠に生きる

World's End Online

and DONE

Felicity Sato

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---

ＡＧＥ: nineteen.

ＧＥＮＤＥＲ: female.

ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ:

ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ:

friendly. adventurous. girly. aloof. photogenic. creative. materialistic. insecure. suspicious. flaky. perfect. adorable. poser.

ＢＡＣＫＧＲＯＵＮＤ:

Felicity lives with two fairly wealthy parents. Her father is Japanese and her mother is Canadian. She has no occupation nor plans for the future. Although her bedroom is a pastel wonderland of stuffed animals, posters, figurines, and crystals, the sheer curtains are often drawn, allowing just enough light for the plants to grow. A white cat with light brown patches of fur over each eye can sometimes be seen in the windowsill. Felicity keeps to herself these days. She has no friends outside of her virtual realm and she has no intention of changing that anytime soon.

---

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ＩＮＧＡＭＥ ＮＡＭＥ: Gekkou Kami (Ami for short)

ＩＮＧＡＭＥ ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ:

ＩＮＧＡＭＥ ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ: always a performance.

ＣＬＡＳＳ: mage.

ＮＯＴＡＢＬＥ ＳＫＩＬＬＳ:

1. Spark - Fires a spark of light, capable of creating a chain between enemies who are within an arms-length proximity of each other. The spark skips from enemy to enemy, dealing a small amount of damage. Upon hitting 5 enemies, the residual spark energy reignites, causing a larger burst of damage to all 5 enemies. Long range, targeted ability. Deals moderate damage. (Moderate MP cost)

2. Dazzle - Sends a sparkly blast in a small radius, stunning up to three enemies for 3 seconds. Medium range, shot in a straight line until it hits a target. Deals slight damage. (Moderate MP cost)

3. Moonbeam - Fires a large beam of blue light from her stave, lasting 4 seconds. Ami can move the beam by pointing her staff elsewhere, but cannot move herself throughout the duration of the attack. Long range, requires 1.5 seconds to prepare to fire. Deals moderately high damage dependent on how long the target remains in the line of fire. (High MP cost)

ＥＱＵＩＰＭＥＮＴ:

-a fancy stave with a small crescent moon at one end and a large moon at the other with a light pink sphere floating inside it. tiny white crystals rotate around the head, aligning parallel with the rod when Ami activates Moonbeam.
-a croptop shirt, pants, and gloves.
-a small, ornate dagger.
-1 MP potion.

ＴＨＥＭＥ ＳＯＮＧ: t e l e p a t h テレパシー能力者 - 永遠に生きる

Celestial Bonds

Foreign Refrain

Wren | Regies | Amelie

_{A Collab by @Baklava @Diggerton and @banjoanjo}

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𝓝𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝟕𝓽𝓱, 𝟏𝟑𝟐𝟕 / / 𝓐𝓾𝓼𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓭 / / 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮 / / 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

---

It had been an interesting day to see the least. Regies was entirely uninterested in... well, all of it aside from serving Rose-Marie as best he could. After dinner he made sure to attend to his duties and headed straight to his room for what he assured himself was a well deserved rest. After all, he'd gone a long ways from home for the sake of his mistress, and...

Well, it was taxing to do new things.

He settled in, sitting on the bed and gazing out the window. As he did he found his lute, idily plucking away the notes of a song he'd only half-remembered.

She and Amelie's garden visit had been a big flop. Of course. The one part of this big, crowded box that Wren had any interest in exploring and she wasn't allowed. Perched on the windowsill with the dinner dress crumpled on the bed behind her, Wren stared up at the moonlight peeking through the branches of the tree outside.

She needed to step out for a bit. A tree alone was no garden of flowers, but it would be nice enough.

The small young woman tentatively reached for the window latch, trying to remember how Amelie had opened it before. Recalling the presence of her friend, she turned to see her breathing slowly in her bed. Asleep after a long day of travel and senseless 'requirements'.

Silent boots hit the floor again and she crept a bit closer, narrowing her eyes curiously at the sleeping girl's face. What a weirdo. Why did she want to come here so badly? The food was good, but they had plenty of that at home. None of this needed to be their fight. What had the Emperor of Greinheim ever done for them? With a breathless sigh, Wren straightened herself and stepped towards the window, slipping out into the night air.

It was only a short hop to the nearest branch. The tree barely shook as it accepted her weight. The feeling of bark beneath her fingertips was a comfort she hadn't realized she'd missed after spending all day with smooth, polished surfaces. This was a good tree. Yes, as long as this tree was here, things might not be so terrible.

The second thing that caught her attention was a sound. She'd heard it only a few times before. Sometimes drifting from beside a distant campire, sometimes flowing through the maze of buildings and fences near Amelie's house. Curiousity propelled her up a sturdy branch that reached past the window from which she thought she could place the sound, but no. The room inside was dark. She cupped her hands up against the glass, squinting until her eyes adjusted. Nothing to see.

Just when she thought she might lose interest, the music started up again. She looked down between her scrawny legs, dangling just above the top of another window. There was light in that room so it must be the place. Twisting her hat more snugly onto her head, Wren turned herself upside down, knees closed around the tree branch and necklace jingling against her cheek as she peeked in at an orange haired boy sitting on his bed with a... music thingy.

Regies, for but a moment, was so absorbed in thought that he didn’t notice the gremlin hanging from the branches watching him. He continued to pluck at the strings of the lute, looking off to the side.

However, he eventually did notice.

”Oh! By the gods, monster!” he shouted, shooting up, placing the lute at his side, and quickly searching for the sword that Rose-Marie had given him. He never though he’d have to use the damn thing, especially not this quick. Was this how he was going to die? A dirt covered gremlin eating his innards? He shot a quick glance behind him as he rummaged for his things, and…

Wait, was that actually a person?

Wren stared, mildly surprised when his eyes met hers and he jumped up to begin shouting. What the hell was that for? She cinched her brow and as he began searching for something, a frown settling across her face. Probably something to throw or swat at her with, if past experience was anything to go by. She soundly doubted he was fishing for some socks to hand over freely, like one other weirdo she knew. Either way, it seemed he was no longer interested in making music, so it was likely best that she make tracks.

Wren quickly righted herself and reached for a branch overhead, pulling herself up and away with only a few falling leaves left behind as evidence she was ever there.

Regies turned quickly, trying to place the face with one of the ones at dinner but failing to. Or was it…? No, no, he pushed the thought away, hurrying to the window and opening it, ”Hey! Wait!” he called out.

Alas, 'wait' wasn't a word she often listened to. Wren pulled herself up onto another tree branch before reconsidering. This was supposed to be her home. Hers just as much as it was his. She turned around and leered down at the boy silently. Her eyes flickered to his hands, noting that they were empty, but still cautiously waiting for whatever it was he wanted to say.

”Uhhhhhh…” was, for a moment, all he could think of. ”Are you, er, one of the, uh… celestially… bonded… people?"

Silence. More silence. Wren rolled her eyes and sighed. Yeah, she sure was. And she sure kinda wished she wasn't. What was he asking such obvious questions for, anyway? Hadn't he seen her at the table?

Shifting into a more comfortable position, she nodded once.

Regies smiled, ”Oh, well, you gave me quite the scare!” he said jovially, ”Er, probably not best to be peering through people’s windows at night. I’m Regies… uh, Regies Proulx.” he awkwardly extended his hand upward, not quite sure if she’d come down and reach for it.

Indeed, she wouldn't. Staring at the hand reproachfully, Wren lowered herself down a branch. She wasn't stupid. She knew what a handshake was. In fact, she was keenly aware of the social repurcussions of turning one down as well. But in the grand scheme of all things Wren, feeling another person's skin against her own simply wasn't something she fancied doing anytime soon. So she did the next best thing.

She gave a small wave, additionally showing no remorse for the 'scare' as she folded her arms and leaned against the tree trunk, staring at 'Regies' expectantly.

Regies stared at the girl for a moment. Oh. Oh. He understood! She must’ve been simple, like his cousin Linus. Aye, he knew how to handle the sort. A light touch was best. He glanced back at the lute, reaching for it, ”Were you, er, interested in this?”

Wren perked up a bit, but didn't move. Was he offering to play more? She thought for a moment. It felt awkward now that he knew she was there. And she didn't want to have to sit and politely listen until he was done with whatever he decided to play. Especially if it turned out to be a very long song... Then again, why not? It wasn't like she cared about this random person's feelings. She shrugged lightly, looking away and trying to seem indifferent.

She liked the music. That much she would admit. Not to him, though.

”Aye, well... I’ll play a song, then we’ll see how you feel. I’m quite good, I’ll have you know.” he grabbed the lute, heading towards the window and leaning out of it. He began to pluck at strings, playing a ballad that his father had taught him. ”So, tree lady, do you have a name?”

Wren listened intently, staring off at the skyline of trees in the distance and not bothering to look at Regies again until he asked for her name. Her name. Ugh. He forgot that, too? Wren stared at him, clearly unamused. She was silent for another moment, almost deciding not to answer at all. It wouldn't be the first time she didn't answer a question like that.

She sighed. Today was an odd day indeed.

"'Tree lady' works...," her lips curled into a mean-spirited smile, "But I answer to Wren."

”Aye! Yes, I remember now, Wren. And your partner was… Amelie.” Regies nodded along to the song for a moment, perhaps intentionally ignoring Wren’s displeasure at the question, ”And where, pray tell, are you from, Wren?”

Her eyes narrowed. "Balwyn," she frowned. Amelie had said that during dinner, too. Unlike Regies, who never mentioned where he and 'Rose-Marie' were from. But she didn't bother asking. Being unfamiliar with the world outside Balwyn Forest, she wouldn't recognize it anyway.

”Balwyn…” Regies thought for a moment, and then shook his head. ”’Fraid I’m not familiar. Not one for maps, myself. Perhaps I read it in a book once, but I don't recall. What is Balwyn like?”

Wren could at least relate to the sentiment concerning maps, but her lips pursed at the next question. What was Balwyn like? She didn't possess the words. Balwyn was Balwyn. But of course this person before her could never understand that. From their brief exchange, she could already tell.

Then again, she doubted anyone could properly appreciate Balwyn Forest as she could. Not even Amelie.... Otherwise, they never would have left.

She stopped leaning against the tree and sighed again, looking over at her own open window. Huh... so he was their neighbor. But he was also asking too many dumb questions. A homesick uneasiness hit her like branch to the gut after a nasty fall. She knew why she didn't want to talk about Balwyn. Sure, it was her only point of reference, but it was home. And she missed it. She missed it way too much.

"I'm going now. Goodbye," she said, thinking herself remarkably polite for doing so.

"Errrr... goodbye? Although, uh, you don't have to talk about Balwyn. If you'd prefer I could shut up and finish the song, at the very least."

Wren didn't stop moving. Now he wanted to shut up? Ha... Reaching her windowsill, she stopped with one foot inside, adjusting her hat as she looked back at him. Her mouth twitched into half a humorless smile.

"No...," she said quietly, storm brewing behind sharp, dark eyes, "No, thanks."

It was time to be alone. Er, as alone as she could be in a place like this. Not only that, but she was tired. Tired of talking so much and tired of listening. The music was nice, but not like the owls and crickets that lived in her trees back home.

"Goodbye."

Regies shrugged. ”Oh well.” he muttered to himself, resigning to the fact that people outside of Roche were both scary and strange alike. Still, he happily continued his song.

---

Amelie's eyes flickered open, the country girl roused by distant noises out the window. It wasn't uncommon for her to have to wake at strange hours. Wren was a strange one herself, after all, and the Balwyn nights would usher in plenty of storms that would require her to keep an eye out for the forest dweller.

A squint towards the dark of their shared room prompted Amelie to reach out with her mind. "Wren? Are you okay?"

Wren left the window open walking across the room to grab her bag and drag it over to Amelie's bedside. She didn't answer right away, sitting down heavily and leaning up against the wall with a small sigh. The ability to link minds, by far, was one of the biggest things she knew she'd have to get used to. As much as she cared for Amelie, it felt strangely intrusive. Like a touch on the inside of her skull-- a touch she'd never experienced before, but a touch nonetheless.

"Yes," Wren answered outloud, fixing some of the stray feathers peaking out of her skirt before hugging her knees tightly. But it suddenly struck her as a little rude-- talking outloud when Amelie was using her mind. So she closed her eyes and tried to open it, surprised to find that when no words came, her emotions spilled forward.

A nigh inconsolable amount of anxiety and regret. Fear and discomfort. Longing and a lack of understanding. Strong and heavy feelings not a single person would likely guess by looking at the small person seated against the wall. Her expression was still calm as she opened her eyes to look at Amelie. She gripped her knees just a little tighter. She hadn't meant to share all that. At least not all at once.

Involuntarily, Amelie curled in on herself as a wave of what she could only describe as stress washed over all the orifices of her mind. She suppressed a grimacing exhale, taking a few moments before she could muster a proper smile. Gods, had Wren been feeling like this the entire time? Her own doubts and regrets began to take shape in her mind but Amelie cut off the connection before Wren could sense the bulk of it. She had enough on her plate already. Hopefully those fears would put themselves to rest over time.

"You can take my blanket if you're cold," Amelie whispered. Something to start with. Current worries could be just as important as the long-term sometimes.

"No," Wren said quickly, the fainted hint of regret in the sound, "I'll be fine." Two birds, one stone. She quickly pulled her own rolled up blanket out of her pack, bringing the dirty, worn fabric up over her mouth as she settled herself against the wall. An uncomfortable frown wormed its way across her lips.

"Sorry," she told Amelie without speaking, careful to choose her words before opening the link this time.

"...I'm sorry too."

What else was she meant to say? Well, mind-say.

"Tomorrow will be a better day. And I won't stop trying that garden until we get you those flowers."

Empty words, but Amelie truly believed them in the moment. She'd make them real and Wren would never feel that desolate again. Amelie would have said more but she was rather curious right now.

"Were you making a new friend out there?"

"Okay," Wren thought, closing her eyes. It was a nice thought, but she wasn't in the mood to get her hopes up, "No... I was talking to Regies. He's... okay. Kinda odd. Talks a lot."

The Rochean who came with the Marquis.

"Heh. Yes, he did seem like the sort at dinner."

A pause.

"Would you prefer I stay here, or can I go and pay him my own visit? I'm sure we'd have to meet him tomorrow either way."

"Do what you want, Amelie," Wren mentally sighed, though it was more out of exhaustion. No judgement, hidden conditions or preference either way.

"Okay. Goodnight, Wren."

Amelie hopped out of bed then, changing quickly. The servant kept company far more graceful herself and though she was far from conveying that sense of wealth and importance, the clothing offered by the estate allowed her to imitate the part at least. She squared her shoulders once she reached the neighbouring room, having followed the sound of lute music. After taking an extended moment to straighten her dress, Amelie knocked on the door.

The faint sound of music was stopped, and replaced by shuffling. After a moment Regies arrived at the door. He greeted Amelie with a warm smile, ”Ah, the Lady Amelie,” it sure was a good thing that Wren dropped by to remind him what her name was. He gave a flourished bow – something he practiced for the sake of not embarrassing Rose-Marie. ”How might I help you tonight?”

One might think that his formal mode of address was due to him being a butler, but really he just thought it was quite a good first impression to make on a lady.

"O-oh," she chuckled, a light flush colouring her cheeks, "there's no need for that!"

A quick curtsy was done in return, more out of the sudden feeling of obligation than anything. These noble types were another thing altogether!

"Regies...Proulx, right? You spoke with Wren earlier?"

He nodded, ”Proulx is correct.” for but a moment he gave a thoughtful look at her question, ”Well, yes, I spoke but there wasn’t much talking, I’m afraid.”

It didn't seem to be much of a problem from the way Amelie giggled.

"Yes, that sounds like Wren alright. Actions speak louder than words, or something of that sort. I hope she wasn't a bother."

Regies shook his head, ”No, no, not at all. I had a cousin that was quite a bit like her, I’m used to… well, y’know.” he relaxed a little, his manner of speaking becoming a touch less formal, ”She did run off in the middle of my song, though. Must not’ve been a very good one.” he said with a small laugh.

A cousin like her? Another forest hermit? The news and subsequent joke made Amelie visibly relieved.

"Oh, no, I'm sure your song was wonderful. Wren loves music too, she just takes a long time to warm up to people." Amelie left the 'if she warms up at all' unsaid. "I'm glad there wasn't a problem. To be honest, it's been a long journey from home and, well, I was afraid of how we'd be received, considering our...lifestyle."

Amelie didn't dare separate Wren's problems from her own. They were in this together.

”Aye… worry not, Amelie, we’re all far from home. At the very least you can expect no judgement from me,” he said with a smile. For a moment he was going to append Rose-Marie’s name to that statement, but… well, perhaps that might not be true, ”Speaking of, Wren mentioned she was from… Balwyn, was it? Although if I’m not mistaken I hear a hint of Rochean in your voice.”

'You're definitely mistaken'. She couldn't say that, could she? Her accent would keep slipping out either way plus she had no idea how long she'd be living with these people.

"Er...well. Balwyn, Roche. Practically neighbours, aren't we?"

"Yes. Of course, makes sense to me."

They were neighbors? News to him. More than a little embarrassing, considering he wasn't entirely sure where Balwyn was.

"What's Balwyn like? I asked Wren but she didn't seem very keen to talk about it."

A fond smile crossed the girl's face. It wasn't just because the issue of her accent had been glanced over.

"The thickest forests in all of Grenheim, and the most beautiful. Outside of those, nothing but farms and quiet villages for miles. The opposite of Ausfeld, really."

All the more reason she shouldn't have dragged Wren along.

"What about Roche? I've, uh, heard some great stories."

"Lovely place! Festivals like no other, and great parties. Beautiful cities, rolling countryside, all that good stuff..." for a moment Regies's eyes lit up as he talked about his home, but he quickly came back to reality. "Oh, by the Gods, great food too! Truth be told, I quite miss it already..."

Amelie laughed. Wren was right about this fellow.

"Sounds like a place worth missing," she grinned, "We'll have to see if this 'destined warriors' deal involves a tour across Grenheim. Balwyn feels like a rather small place most of the time. I'd love to see some sights like the ones you've mentioned."

"Aye, well... I have no doubt that we'll see something, at the very least. I doubt they bothered gathering us so we could hang out in a castle," Regies sighed, making an effort to return Amelie's grin, "I myself haven't been outside of Roche, but sometimes I think that may have been for the best... er, sorry, I probably shouldn't be complaining."

"Yes, it's an...interesting world out there."

The girl forced out a brief chuckle, unsure of how to take that comment. He wasn't disparaging the regions outside of Roche, was he?

"Oh, it's getting rather late, isn't it?" What had she come here to say again? "I should retire soon. I just came to thank you for not chasing Wren away when she came by. It's a relief to know we have at least one friend here."

"Not a problem, Miss Amelie. I'm sure we'll see each other around, and if you or Wren ever wanna chat I'll be here..." he wasn't quite sure where he was going with that sentence, "Have a good night!"

"You too, Mister Regies. We'll see you in the morning."

And with a parting curtsy, she departed.

Small Town of Wizards and Witches!

If enough people are interested, I would be okay with rejoining.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @banjoanjo@Baklava}

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕝𝕖 ℍ𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / 𝟙𝟚𝟘𝟘

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Cal and Ernie Get Kicked Out of a Waffle House

Hey Ernie! What's your opinion on waffles? :P

Better than pancales cos of crunch
Why, yuo want some?

haha true
Well we can go wherever you want but I owe you for a ton of stuff and I want to treat you.
free for lunch?

You had me at 'treat'
Letsgo

aww yeah :)
Okay, meet me at the bus stop at 12 : sunglasses:

Ernie was there by 11:50. Today's laundry had been a light load, though even if it hadn't Ernie knew that he'd arrive on time. The same snazzy jacket he'd worn when Emma had told him about the dream currently adorned his body, paired with a pair of jeans that weren't at all suited for mountaineering. Siena had been a thorough outfitter. Of course, the usual concealer had been smeared across his neck. He sent out another text while he waited.

Ohyeh dont froget your mark

In spite of her little chat with Determination that morning, Callan was determined to maintain her good mood. Or at least keep her mind off it. Easier said than done, but she was trying her damnedest.

As if the slightly offbeat upbeat attitude wasn't enough, it seemed Callan had actually put some form of effort into her appearance when she arrived. She smiled and waved cheerily as she approached. A simple barrette kept her typically unruly bangs out of her face, coupled with a pair of stud earrings and bright white tennis shoes. As per Ernie's request, her mark was concealed.

"Dang, Ernie!" she looked him up and down, "Where can I get a jacket like that?"

The boy puffed out his chest, grinning from the praise.

"No clue, really," he replied sheepishly, "Siena took me all over the place on Friday."

"Hmm," Callan nodded approvingly, feeling slightly under dressed all of a sudden. "Dude, I gotta get her to help me out next time...." she chuckled. A noncommittal remark coming from someone who avoided shopping like the plague.

"Seriously though, you look like you just walked out of a magazine. Could've at least warned me!" Callan pinched at the hem of her hoodie. It was one of her newer and less used ones, but still nowhere close to Ernie's ensemble.

"Right?" he wiggled his shoulders happily, "Shopping with Siena is like, life-changing. Definitely couldn't have paid for even a fifth of it without her."

"With a 500 dollar stipend?" Callan gawked, stepping towards him, "Jesus, let me see that coat." She gingerly ran her fingers along the shoulder, squinting as if she might catch a glimpse of diamonds hidden somewhere in the stitching.

"Yeah, it's like wearing a cloud!" Ernie held an arm out for Cal to sample, "I hadn't packed much for the winter but luckily Siena was there. I'm pretty sure half my wardrobe now is stuff she suggested."

"Ohh," Callan stepped back, thoroughly impressed, as the bus finally appeared down the road, "That's super cool!"

"Mmhmm! We should all go out sometime. Another clothes run, another Costco visit and..." Ernie tilted his head as he heard the incoming bus, "Say, where are we going today?"

"Yeah," she agreed, actually meaning it a little. Costco was always fun. And she could probably make up an excuse to skip out on the clothes shopping. Her eyes lit up at the question as she stepped closer to the curb. "A magical place..." she smirked, "Called Waffle House!"

"I mean, unless breakfast for lunch isn't your style," she nodded at his clothes again.

"Breakfast for lunch?" Ernie's eyes seemed to twinkle, "Geez, sounds like we're breaking some kinda rule."

Called laughed, "Motel break-ins one day and waffles after noon the next... man, who's the bad influence on who here?"

More idle chatter occupied the bus ride into town. Idle and nice and not at all like her chat with Determination that morning. Callan led the way to Waffle House with all the pep of a person who was quite clearly trying not to seem terribly upset on the inside. Once inside, the hostess greeted and seated them with a smile. It was nice at least to be treated so normally-- Ernie's idea to cover their marks had turned out to be a good one after all. She'd been a bit skeptical about trying to disguise herself in a town she'd already visited a few times, but... so far so good!

Ordering their drinks and being left alone with the menus, Callan propped hers up against the booth table and hummed. "I've never eaten here, but the reviews online were super high," she mused, running her finger down the list of specials, "And order whatever you want! I've got plenty left on my card this month."

Ernie raised an eyebrow at her pep. Her unusually bright behaviour on the way to the restaurant hadn't gone unnoticed. Overcompensation for something, he was sure of that. He had the sinking feeling that it had something to do with him, the way he dressed today, but so far she hadn't raised it as a problem. Yet. Ernie decided to play along for now.

"Uhh," he skimmed over the menu. It seemed like the usual diner stuff, not that he had any problem with it. He remembered eating something similar with Angelique at La Plata, "I guess I'll take the All Star Special. Looks like a bit of everything so if I have normal lunch stuff with the waffles then the crime won't be so bad."

Callan smiled and shrugged, "Hey, you do what you want, but I'm goin' all in. That glazed strawberry waffle stack has my name written aaall over it." Callan impatiently turned in her seat to look for the waitress, waving at her.

"Hey, we're ready to order!" she called out happily. Being the middle of the week on a school day, the place wasn't exactly packed. Nor had their server been gone for an especially long time. But even under extreme circumstance, Callan had never seemed to be the sort to flag down a waitress. Especially for such a mundane reason.

The arbiter sank back down in her seat with a chipper sigh. Rattling off their orders with a hair too much gusto.

"Whew, the service here is pretty great so far, right?" she picked up the orange juice she'd ordered, swirling the pulp in the glass with her straw for a moment before taking a quick sip, "And holy cow, this orange juice is great."

Ernie took a sip to check. Tasted like orange juice. "Uh yeah, it's fine...?"

Something was definitely off.

"So how have you been? We haven't talked since...yesterday..."

Urgh. Such a simple question. Easy peasy. You can do this.

"I'm doin' great," she grinned, looking down at the table quickly. Her smile clearly faltered, but by the time her eyes met his again, she'd managed to fix it back in place. "What about you? How'd Siena's party go? Did she like the cake?"

Ernie forced a smile and pulled out his phone. He showed her the selfie Brent had taken, Siena with Team SAP and a half-demolished cake. Said nothing about what came after the party.

"It was pretty fun. The cake was a hit and so were your dog sweaters."

"Aw, awesome," Callan stared at the picture, eyes lingering on one face in particular. Her expression became unreadable for a moment, caught between her current facade and something deeply troubling. "Man, I wish I could've been there. Looks like you guys had a blast," she smiled apologetically, "I was too tired to party, though. Definitely would've fallen asleep."

"Ehhh," Ernie thought of the birthday activities, "sure. What's got you so tired all of a sudden? Don't think I didn't notice all those energy drinks when I dropped you off."

Callan laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck, "Oh, you saw my stash, haha. Oh man, that's embarrassing. I've been staying up pretty late watching Netflix. My sleep schedule's been wonky since the island, you know?"

A buzzing sound called from Callan's side of the table. She visibly tensed, but ignored it, moving right along with the conversation, "Not as cool as staying up all night learning piano. That's for sure."

Ernie frowned. "You don't need to answer that?"

Thrown off by the question, her expression blanched, eyes darting to where she'd placed her phone on the seat beside her.

Emma:
Yooooo det's been acting super weird today

"Nah," Callan smiled again, stomach turning. Oh God, why did she think waffles were a good idea?

"I'll get it later. Probably just a dumb app pinging me to buy jewels or some shit," she folded her arms over the table, leaning forward while searching for something to say next. Anything. "Weather's been nice," she chuckled, looking out the window at the incoming clouds. "I hope it rains. It's been a while."

"It's Fall--" Ernie crossed his arms. He couldn't keep this up any longer. "Okay, I can't do this. Callan, I think I know what's going on here."

She blinked at him, sitting back, clenching her fists and slowly sliding them under the table where they could shake in peace.

"What?" she forced a smile regardless, gripping her knees to keep her knuckles from chattering against the underside of the table.

Ernie took a deep breath. Looked her right in the eye and spoke with a firm voice. His expression conveyed only the utmost of seriousness.

"This is not a date. We both know that, right?"

The smile melted off her face cleanly this time. Her mouth fell open and closed at least twice before she found the words.

"O-of course I know that, Ernie," she replied, her tone serious but also apologetic. Her face flushed, though. Not a great sign. "S-sorry if you thought it was?"

Ernie narrowed his eyes. "W-wait, I thought that you thought that I thought that this was a..."

He trailed off, having confused himself somewhere along that sentence. He had a feeling his face was starting to turn red too.

"I mean, you made such a fuss about what I was wearing."

"I-I just thought they were cool," Callan stammered. And they seemed like such an easy conversation piece! She inwardly groaned.

"Aw man, I'm sorry. I should watch what I say," she frowned, seemingly far more upset about the mistake than she should have been, "Everything's awkward now, isn't it?" Jesus, was she going to cry?

Callan managed to prevent that much at least, taking a subtle breath through her nose to steady herself again.

The Aberration kneaded the bridge of his nose. "Yeah...I-I mean, no? Yes? Urgh."

This was his fault. He sighed into his hands before catching sight of Cal's distress. "Jesus, are you alright?"

God, she was falling apart. Calm down!

Those words and accusations were screaming in her ears. Louder than the pounding headache she'd accrued from trying to keep it all in. A loud crash and biting tone, forcing her to face things she'd never even thought of before. God, she was so stupid!

Callan suddenly shot up out of her seat. "I gotta use the restroom real quick," she chuckled nervously, "I'm fine-- I'll be right back."

Ernie couldn't do much but stammer and watch as Callan raced to the bathroom. Wha--he hadn't fucked up that badly, had he? A loud groan of frustration left the boy's throat, turning a few heads before the buzzing sound from before rung again. And again. Cal had seemed pretty intent on ignoring it. What the actual hell was going on? After scoping out the way to the bathroom to make sure the Arbiter wasn't returning, Ernie leaned over the table and grabbed the phone. The name on the front darkened his expression immediately.

Emma:
She mentioned that she talked to you today
Did she seem weird?

'She'? Who else did Cal talk to here, Siena? More importantly, it was probably Emma's messages that was making Callan act so weird today. And whatever that fucking snake was up to, it wasn't going to continue under Ernie's watch.

Without any hesitation, he swiped the phone open.

There wasn't much time to do this. He speed-read through the latest conversation, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper with every revelation. Determination was 'Riley'. Riley wasn't just a friend Emma threw up on, she was an ex. And also a girl apparently, but he could mull over that later. The 'ex' part was a secret. A big secret that even Marcus didn't know about but Cal did. Lastly, Emma and Callan were pretty good friends, good enough for Cal to get her a present? What the fuck, she'd never bought him anything!

A clatter from the kitchen made the Aberration jump, scaring him out of this game of phone-stalk chicken. He closed the phone in a hurry, dropping it back in the seat before sitting stiffly in his own as he waited for the girl to return.

Thank God the toilets were clean. Callan dry heaved several times before sitting on the floor, trying to iron herself out. She was hyperventilating. Couldn't keep this up. Needed to get out. Or calm down. Whichever came first.

'Your roommate? Your friend's boyfriend? God, that's fucking classless'

Her stomach lurched again, but she tried to ignore it. Callan pulled herself up and ran to the sink, splashing cold water across her face several times until her eyes didn't seem quite so red. It wasn't perfect, but it'd have to do. Just when she thought she might head back out the door, it all came rushing back. She gripped the edge of the sink and just breathed, squeezing her eyes so tightly she saw stars. Couldn't keep this up... She couldn't keep hiding in the bathroom forever... could she?

Meanwhile, Ernie hadn't dared touch the phone again, even after five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Jesus fuck, energy-drink induced shits didn't take that long. Something was seriously wrong. Pocketing the phone regardless, Ernie stormed to the bathrooms, pushing into the 'Ladies' room without a second look.

"H-hey," a woman by the sink gaped at him, "what the--"

"Cal!" Ernie blatantly ignored her and the other two in the bathroom, calling out with slight panic in his voice, "Cal, are you in here?"

Bent over the sink, her head shot up at the sound. Shit... how long had she been in here? Her eyes darted to the mirror. Her face was sopping wet. Sleeves, too. And her hair looked like she'd never styled it at all.

"Ernie!" she called out, wiping her face off on her already damp sleeves. Probably not a good idea to let him keep running around calling her name like that.

"Dude, you seriously need to--"

"Fuck off!" Ernie snapped viciously and ran to the voice. When he finally found her, he didn't know what to say. She'd been washing her face for twenty minutes? No. She'd definitely been crying. Ernie began to panic more, connecting lines and dots where there hadn't been any before. Was this because of the Determination thing? If it was, Ernie was going to fucking murder Emma. Cal was fine yesterday morning so it had to be that, right? Maybe it was something before that. Like Siena being in a mood or...

Ernie blanched. Did...did she find out about the Marcus situation somehow?

"Wha--Cal, I..." he looked on the verge of tears himself, "what's going on, man?"

"You're not supposed to be in here," she sniffled and laughed softly, trying not to draw more attention, "This is the girl's room, you weirdo."

"I've cleaned a lot worse," he said, stepping to her and holding her by the shoulders. "I don't know what to do, Cal. Why are you so upset?"

Holding back the floodgates, Callan gave him a glossy eyed stare. Here, but with her thoughts miles below sea level. Her bottom lip trembled and she quickly looked away. "Ernie, I just want to go eat waffles," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't want to think about it. I just want to joke around and be stupid and just..." Her shoulders shook.

"Yeah," Ernie nodded vigorously, desperation lacing the action, "yeah, we can do that. We can be as stupid as you want and we'll laugh at dumb jokes and eat--"

The boy paused, as if remembering something.

"Actually..."

Right on cue, the woman he swore at burst in with a Waffle House worker.

"That's the one," she spat, pointing right at Ernie.

A few minutes of apologies and paid compensation later, the subnaturals found themselves outside Waffle House with a lifetime ban.

"Fuck..." Ernie muttered, turning to check on his companion.

Callan made a pitifully small effort to laugh. "Sorry," she smiled at him, wincing, "That was my bad... we can go somewhere else." She pulled out her phone and began searching. Ernie took her wrist, preventing her from looking at the phone.

"Actually, I know a place," he tried a comforting smile himself, "Do you mind walking?"

Callan shook her head, "No, that's fine. Wherever you want."

With a nod, Ernie began to lead the way. Silence lingered so Cal could regain her composure and Ernie could figure out what he wanted to say. It was comfortable.

"Alright," he finally piped up after a few minutes, "gun to your head, all honesty, what was your first ever impression of me?"

Callan blinked at him curiously, not expecting a question like that, though she was far from complaining.

"Hmm," she thought to herself briefly, "I thought you seemed nice. Happy. Someone fun to be around." She smirked, "I remember you were laughing when I almost took Marc's head off, though. And at first I was kinda like 'I almost killed somebody and this guy over here thinks it's funny! What the hell?'"

She laughed a little, "But it was pretty hilarious in retrospect so I won't hold it against you."

"It was definitely funny," Ernie nodded with a chuckle. He took a contemplative breath, looking a bit distant. "If we're being honest here, I think I looked down on you guys that first day."

Callan laughed. "Well, yeah! You've been a mage for a while and we were a bunch of idiots who just woke up with powers!" She slid her hands into her pockets, seeming to calm down just a bit, "Hell, it stills feels that way. ...Plus you're tall."

"And still growing!" Ernie grinned proudly, "This spine's got like a year and a half of potential spring in it yet."

Jokes aside, he relaxed.

"I let West stroke my ego too much. But even before that, I...don't think highly of people. A lot of people. You really were all a bunch of rookie idiots to me."

He knew part of that was still true. He chuckled again.

"I don't really know what I'm trying to say. Maybe...'I've never been happier about being wrong' or 'I've never wanted to fight for anything more in my life'. Something dumb. I dunno. Most of all, it's probably just a 'thank you'."

Ernie didn't dare look at her.

"Thank you, Callan."

Thank you? It seemed so undeserved after the morning she'd had, but... man, she was such a moron. She wasn't entirely sure what Ernie meant, but it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Somehow bypassing the nerves and paranoia eating away at her thoughts. Just for a moment.

She stared up at the side of his face before a sheepishly incredulous smile pulled at her lips. "Aww geez," she chuckled, looking forward, "I don't know what I did, but... you're welcome I guess."

The boy laughed. He doubted he could explain it either.

"Nah, you've done a lot. Just felt like I needed to say it soon."

His expression grew more melancholy.

"It kills me when I see you upset. A-and it's fine if you don't want to talk about it. I've been there plenty of times myself and I'll act dumb and make jokes if that's what you need. Personally, I don't think it's healthy and I don't understand why you're not telling me about it, but if it's what you want I'll suck it up for now. You shouldn't force yourself to act normal and cheery. Makes me feel weird too, like I've done something wrong."

That turned out harsher than he wanted. This whole thing had been kinda frustrating.

"Anyway, if you want to eat, you should probs search something up. Cos we've been walking in a random direction for like fifteen minutes and I never actually had a place to lead us to in the first place."

She stopped abruptly, clutching at her stomach underneath the pocket of her hoodie. A mixed emotion of longing and what looked like straight nausea washing over her, she stared at the shoulder of Ernie's jacket. Going out to eat could wait-- she barely had an appetite anyway,

"I don't want to make you feel like a dumping ground for all my stupid problems, Ernie," she frowned, "That's never any fun."

Had that been her intention the entire time? Ernie could still recall the first time they really talked, where he'd learnt about Marcus and her family situation. Frankly, it was far too late to make him feel like anything else. He was okay with that, wasn't he? If it meant keeping a friend like her in his life.

"Is this a 'stupid' problem?" he barely held himself back from snapping at her, "You're a mess right now. You can barely walk."

Callan swallowed hard.

"I'm... I'm in some serious shit.... And I don't know what to do. I feel like I can't even breathe."

She wiped at her cheek, eyes falling to the asphalt, "Ernie, you're one of my best friends." She smiled ruefully. "I know I can trust you with anything, but...." Her face reddened, "I'm so stupid."

"What shit?" Ernie pleaded, "We can work this out but I can't help if I don't know what's going on. Please."

Callan was quiet for a moment, looking up at Ernie and clearly trying to decide on if she should tell him. Though it was more a question of how much. There were some things about her problem that felt like they shouldn't be shared. Things that would upset Emma....

Just the basics then.

"Determination came by my dorm this morning," she said, her voice just above a whisper, "She wanted to talk... was asking a bunch of weird questions...."

She chewed her lip nervously, glancing over shoulder briefly. "She found out about Marcus... and she wasn't happy."

The memory was still fresh. Her voice was shaking again, "I-- I didn't... I wasn't thinking. This could really hurt Emma. R-really bad, Ernie... I don't think Det will tell her, but... I don't know...."

Ernie froze. Grimaced visibly.

"That really is serious."

He knew her poor acting was going to bite her in the ass someday but...not like this. A darker part of his mind cursed Emma, wondering if Determination had been acting under her orders. The tulpa was her lackey after all and it wasn't like Callan hid her feelings very well. He didn't know what Emma was up to but he swore to god he'd put an end to it.

"You think it won't tell her?"

'She's fragile, Cal.'

Callan shook her head, "No... I really don't think so." She stared at Ernie expectantly. Waiting for some kind of direction.

"Why not?"

"Because...," Callan hesitated, clearly rethinking what she was going to say, "I don't know... that's just the feeling I got. I think she wants me to keep being friends with Emma... to act like everything's normal. Det said a lot of stuff.... It's so weird. I'm freaking out..."

Ernie took note of it. The pauses, the holes in the information. So much she was keeping from him, stuff he'd never known if he hadn't taken it for himself. He wanted to help. She wanted him to help. But this was the limited extent she was willing to go for him.

...He didn't want to comment on it.

"So the tulpa is blackmailing you into staying...friends with Emma."

Callan sighed, pushing her bangs against her head, "I don't know... I don't know what it's gonna do. It's fuckin' nuts. I just got this awful feeling like... something really bad's gonna happen." A hysterical chuckle. "I don't know how to stop it and and it's gonna be all my fault."

"No. Having feelings you can't handle isn't your fault," Ernie preached the consolation blandly. He tried to believe it himself but it was hard when Callan was so incapable of keeping her mouth shut. Seriously, she got out-talked by a magic clone person?

"Sounds like the only thing you can do now is play along. If the tulpa isn't going to say anything to change the status quo, neither should you. In the meantime, you need leverage. Find a motive or something like that. Find or make a reason for that thing to never open its goddamn mouth."

Callan didn't seem convinced, but she kept listening. Her eyes widened at Ernie's suggestion. It seemed... a little extreme. She pressed a knuckle to her lips in thought. There was the thing with Val, but... that would only hurt Emma. Definitely not something she could use. She helplessly floundered for an idea.

"Det can't be destroyed. She just poofs right back, so you can't really threaten her, can you?" Callan frowned, "I dunno... I was never gonna let this affect anything. I thought if I just tried to keep quiet, it'd all blow over. I'd move on and everything would be fine.... I get what you're saying. But--" she smiled defeatedly, "I don't know if I could just pretend like everything's the same. Maybe I should do like she said and move out. Steer clear of Marcus for... however long...."

"Steer clear of your Marcus, the guy you live with and have classes with and head out to battle with?" Ernie raised an eyebrow. He sighed again. "Look, maybe Determination will just move on if everyone just lays low for a while. There's a chance everything can stay the same! But," this was the ugly part, "if that doesn't happen...I think you should start preparing for the worst."

"AGH!" Callan ruffled her hair with both hands out of frustration, "God, you're right! I'm so fucked!" Her voice dipped into a desperate whine. She took a quick breath, "I'll just... j-just try to stay optimistic for now! Like you said... everything might stay the same! Just gotta... not let it get to me...." She took several more breaths as she mentally tried to convince herself.

Ernie winced at the meltdown. Geez, had he ever seen her act like this before? He...didn't like it at all. It was just...so fucking weird! Urgh. He clamped his hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her gaze onto his.

"Calm the fuck down!" he hissed. "You're a strong person. You can do this."

Callan simply stared blankly for a moment, as if broken from a trance. She took one last breath, exhaling slowly through her nose before nodding hesitantly.

"R-right... I can do this."

The Aberration clearly wasn't finished. He looked furious.

"You defeated an Amigo. You shattered an ice giant alongside Kadabra. You helped take down a Cat 3 monster. And you're shaken by this? Are you fucking shitting me, Callan Webb?!"

Her eyes widened, the changing of her expression clearly fueled by every word as Ernie spoke. Her hands balled up into fists and she shouted back, matching his volume and quickly gaining confidence.

"Y-you're right! I can fucking do this! Easy!"

"YES YOU FUCKING CAN!" Ernie roared at the top of his lungs.

"YEAH!!"

"YEEEEAAAA--" The horn of a passing car shut him up immediately, the driver leaning out of her window to flip them off. Ernie blinked, coughing from the sudden strain on his throat. Then he laughed sheepishly.

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his head, "I think you get the message."

Callan laughed with him, the magic of the moment having been so hilariously shattered. She couldn't help but smile. It was wide and genuine. She felt like a huge part of the weight that had been lifted. Still very much there-- but so much better.

"Thanks," she sighed, visibly relieved.

Ernie stared at that smile. Memorised it. Saved it in his heart. That was his work. He did that.

"Heh, well. All in a day's work, ma'am," he bowed with a theatrical flourish, knowing that the action would momentarily conceal his giddy expression. Geh, he must have been hanging around Brent too much.

She laughed. "Ernie," Callan shook her head, still chuckling, "Seriously. Thank you." She paused.

"Also... if you ever need help, you know you can come and ask me too, right? I'm not great at... er... a lot of things, but... I'll do whatever I can."

She grinned again, "Anyway, let's go get some freakin' food. I'm suddenly starving."

Ernie hesitated. Tried to accept her offer with a grateful smile. But it faltered very clearly.

Of course he needed help. He needed it more than anyone here. But what was he supposed to tell her? Guess what, he was too afraid to go to sleep now. Guess what, Sander could attack him anytime, even on school grounds, and Ernie probably wouldn't get off so easily next time. Was he supposed to explain how that feud started, let her know about everything he'd done in that alley? Guess what, he was sitting on a goldmine of gang information, unable to help Zoe and the others prepare themselves without letting everyone know what he used to be, no, what he still was. Guess what, he didn't know what to do about Emma. Did he mention that she'd threatened him but only after he'd laughed about the death of a little girl? And now she'd made him furious enough to storm to her room and set fire to everything she owned. Because really, that was the only thing he was good for: getting angry, ruining things and chatting about it later with Brent, the only friend who'd stick with him in the long-term because the guy was most likely a psychopath too.

Or hell, maybe he should just tell her what he'd found out about Marcus the other day, how he'd ruined the guy. Get that shit out of the way. Was he supposed to ask her about that?

"Yeah," he said, grinning painfully, consciously avoiding the mention of her help, "stress eats up a lotta kilojoules. Do you think that Waffle House ban was for that one store or the whole chain?"

The faintest twinge of concern crossed her features as Callan looked at him, but she didn't address what she thought she saw. "Only one way to find out," she replied, cheerful but resigned. Far more natural than before.

By the grace of God, they managed to locate another unsuspecting Waffle House on the other side of town. It of course required another bus ride, but Callan didn't mind. Ernie was good company, as usual. Her nerves still flared every now and then, but they felt more manageable after confiding in someone. The same someone. Again. She worried about her offer, unsure of whether or not he simply didn't think her capable or was unwilling to admit he might need it. Not that she had any reason to believe he was in need of help at all.

Callan and Ernie's List of Somewhat Less Useless Information. Obtained While Eating Waffles.

---

"So I've been meaning to ask you something. Since you've been in the system a lot longer than me and I heard West was kinda crowded... what's the weirdest power you've ever seen? Here or at West. Either one."

"There was a guy who could change his body depending on what meat he ate on the day but like, the scale was too small for it to be useful in most cases. He had this great party trick where he'd scoff down a bunch of squid and turn his fingers into tiny tentacles."

"Eww! Haha!"

"Naw, it was totally cool, I promise!"

"Haha, I bet his dinner dates are exciting at least. Plenty of entertainment."

---

Birthday: January 30th
Birthday: March 26th

"Turning 17 next year!"

"What?! You're younger than me! Shit, is it too late for me to start acting like a cool upperclassman?"

"Hah. Wayyyyy too late."

Callan jokingly slumped in her seat, "Aw. You'll at least tell people I'm cool if they ask, right?"

Ernie merely grinned into his orange juice. "No guarantees."

---

Favorite Food: Steak
Favorite Food: Depends on the weather. Currently, ragout.

"And it better be rare."

"Urgh, I don't have the guts for that. I don't think I'll ever try that steak tartare stuff either."

"Oh, man. You're missing out. I don't think I could bring myself to eat tartare either, though... Then again, I don't know if food poisoning even affects me anymore... What the heck is ragout?"

"It's like a stew with meat and vegetables. Takes ages to cook but that's what makes it so good, y'know? Man, I gotta have you try it soon."

"Where do you even buy that?"

"It's just normal grocery stuff like onions and carrots and beef. But it's French, so that makes it fancy grocery stuff."

"Wait, you know how to cook it?"

"It's pretty easy if you got the time. I can teach you later, if you want."

"Haha, I keep forgetting you can cook and do all these things.... Sure, I'll take you up on that. Not really experienced with anything that doesn't require a microwave, but I can follow directions well enough."

"I'll make a pro chef out of you yet!"

"Haha, we'll see!"

---

"Hey, did you guys try setting off fireworks on the beach?"

"Are you kidding? Brent overclocked the damn things and made it look like the freaking Apocalypse was raining on us!"

"Oh my God, haha. Yeah, I totally saw that. I overheard some of the staff talking about it-- only reason I didn't coming running out to see if Chris had lost his mind or something."

"Urgh. Wouldn't be the first time with that asshole."

"Uh oh. I get the feeling you're not talking about the Flag and Seek match."

"I'm not. Shit, you weren't there. Basically, he and Marcus get into some dumb fight, then all of a sudden the piece of shit flamethrowers Marcus' leg. If it had been anyone without rewind or regen powers that shit would have been permanent. What an asshole, right?"

"Whoa, what's his problem? I knew he had a kinda short fuse, but what the fuck... Jerk's lucky I wasn't there."

"Yeah, I would've thrown that fucker in the ocean but Marcus said he'd already won the fight and kicked his ass. So it was fine, I guess."

"Hmph. Well that's good. I'm getting real tired of everybody using their powers on each other like that. At least it didn't happen during an actual fight...."

"Yeah. Between Hazel and Zoe and...so much other stuff, this class has a lotta issues to iron out."

"You're telling me. At least Zoe seemed to have some sort of plan. And tried to apologize after. Jesus, I don't know what set Hazel off. When I talked to her about it, she said she didn't even remember!"

"Can't remember? Sound like a load of--" Ernie paused, "...Actually. Yeah, something's weird with that girl. She basically has the mind of a five-year-old on normal days. Maybe something gets knocked whenever she has to fight, like a 'Jekyll and Hyde' thing. It's not good."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Haven't spoken with her very much, but every time I do it's certainty an experience.... I'll just have to try and keep an eye out next time," Callan sighed, "I've only got so many eyes though. Either way, I'm glad it was me and not one of you, y'know?"

"Mm," Ernie sipped his drink, thinking about Emma's advice, "Yeah. But I have a feeling things'll get better real soon."

"I hope you're right."

---

Favorite Fruit: Strawberries
Favorite Fruit: Mangos

"I feel like I don't even need to explain this one. They taste good on like anything."

"Yeah, I saw you eyeing them when we were working on Siena's cake. You didn't take any, did you?"

"... I might've taken one."

Ernie narrowed his eyes at Callan before breaking into a smile. "Can't pull one over these eyes, kiddo."

"Hey, you can't call me 'kiddo'! I'm older than you!"

"Fine, Grandma."

Callan delivered a short death glare as she bit into another forkful of waffles.

---

Favorite Song: Changes frequently. Currently, 'Unbreakable' by Alicia Keys
Favorite Song: Depends on his mood. Currently, 'You're Just In Love'.

"It's just too catchy! I think I was obsessed with Ethel Merman for like a month. Wanted to be friends with her so bad."

"I've never heard of that one... you'll have to sing it for me, I think." Callan flashed him a cheeky grin.

"W-what, right now?"

"Haha, no not right now. I'm not that mean... maybe later though."

"Later when? You're not gonna jump out from a corner a week later and make me sing, are you?"

"Oh, that's not a bad idea! A step down Killer Karaoke, but still funny. Haha."

"Killer what?"

"It's kind of like Fear Factor meets American Idol... but I think we get enough of that on our missions, so maybe we should just stick to normal karaoke."

"Or just start singing on missions. Put those cuffs to good use."

"Right, because that would be a great idea. Haha, we should all just crash the karaoke place here in town."

"Hm," Ernie stroked his chin, "Maybe we should..."

---

Favorite Movie: Love and Basketball
Favorite Movie: An American in Paris

"Haha, I didn't have any siblings so I guess my dad decided a giant DVD collection would make-do."

"Wow, that is... a really old movie. This is exactly why we need to arrange more movie nights."

"Hey, it's a classic! 'Love and Basketball'...is that the actual title?"

"Yeah... it's pretty much exactly what it sounds like."

---

"I use the rope to fly me around when I can't be bothered taking the stairs. Third floor life. Do you bypass any dumb stuff like that with your strength?"

"You can fly with your rope? That's so badass... Unless you want to talk about how much stuff I break in a week, I usually try to refrain from using my strength outside of combat and carrying things."

"Not really badass. Instead of Superman-ing around I look like one of those stunt guys in harnesses for live concerts and shit."

"Hey now, flying is flying. I can jump really high, but that's almost pointless if there's no way to safely get down."

"Just message me and I'll help you down. Would have to be a really quick text though."

"Oof. If I have time to remember that before I hit the ground, I definitely will."

---

How do you take your coffee: Instant. Lots of milk.
How do you take your coffee: Trick question. Don't drink coffee in the first place when a cold sink can do the same thing in a tenth of the time.

"But if, gun to my head, I absolutely had to drink it: mix it until you can only taste milk then chug it quick."

"I only started drinking it recently. Still not sure how I feel about it, but I feel you. Cold water seems like the best instant fix!"

"Right? Double effective if you have someone else dump it on you."

"Oh God, that might be a little much for me. I'd scream."

"Heh, I'll let Siena know."

---

Favourite Actor or Actress: John Krasinski / Sanaa Lathan / so many more
Favourite Actor or Actress: Gene Kelly or Leslie Nielsen

"Again with those oldies choices. But I'm supposed to be the Grandma?"

"...Crap."

The breakfast turned out to be well worth the wait, though she was a little disappointed by how quickly the time seemed to fly after that. Before she knew it, they were back at the school waving each other off.

---

yo, you'll let me know the next time you do a costco run right? I'm basically the worlds best grocery carrier jus sayin

For sure. Save us a few taxi rides form the place >_>

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @RedDusk@Baklava}

---

---

𝕋𝕦𝕖𝕤: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕦𝕤 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟙𝟚𝟘𝟘

---

---

Floating

Hey, Sander. Long time no talk-- you still interested in training?

Hey. Sure. Training would be nice.

Tonight after curfew. Can you meet me in Ground Zero?

After curfew?

I'll get you a pass. dw. Can you make it?

What time, exactly?

11:45

At GZ?

Ye I'll swing by and pick you up. They won't let you out of the dorm without a pass

I'll see you, then.

Make sure you get some extra rest, okay? I need you at 100

You'll have me.

As promised, Callan arrived on time that night. Not at all late, which was nothing short of a miracle. But she'd be hard pressed to fudge this up when sparing with Sander had been on her mind ever since their last match-- and especially this last week. She texted a quick "I'm here" to Sander's phone, not wanting to disturb any who might be sleeping-- or arouse any suspiscion.

Immediately, the door swung open, as if Sander had been standing right there waiting for her. He had dressed nicely, crisp shirt and jeans, more suitable for an evening out rather than a sparring match. But it was what he felt comfortable in, so the choice was easy.

"Good evening." -The blood mage greeted her with an easy smile -"Let's go."

Startled, Callan leaned back slightly when the door flew open. She was almost tempted to make a joke about it, but her eyes were quickly drawn to Sander's attire. She'd almost forgotten... but she'd already given him a hard time about what he considered to be proper training gear in the past. So for now there was only one thing left to do.

"You look like you just got back from a date," she teased as they began walking, happy to be talking with Sander again. He was still a weirdo, but it was nice knowing all her friendships hadn't completely dissolved during her reclusive episode at the estate. Not only that, but something about him seemed almost a little bit cheerier. And she thought she could guess why.

"Why?" -Sander raised an eyebrow, hauling the cooler of blood after him. Still, the smile lingered on the corners of lips, unlike the last time they did this -"I had no dates."

Oblivious as ever. "Nothing, nevermind," she laughed incredulously, stopping mid-chortle when her nose suddenly caught a whiff of... was that cologne? Shaking her head to herself, Callan decided to change the subject.

"Got enough blood?" she asked, just trying to make conversation as she eyed the cooler.

"We will see." -Sander only shrugged. He did carry far more than he needed, but with the new limits of his power, he imagined his surge of power would last as long as Cal needed.

"Okay," she said simply. Not much to go off of, but it was fine. After almost a month of not speaking to Sander, she couldn't exactly say she was used to it., but the silence that followed left her feeling a little less desperate to fill it. Her mind drifted back to the last time she'd even seen him. Not since the helicopter ride back from the island. Before that was the water... and then the fight with that shadow monster mage. Head filled with thoughts, she didn't even realize she'd been staring at him.

Sander stared back, an eyebrow arched.

"Yes?"

Callan blinked up at him, surprised to suddenly notice Sander staring right back. She quickly looked away, "Nothing," she laughed nervously, "Just, uh...." Sander was really good looking.

"How've you been?"

"I'm fine." -Another smile stretched Sander's lips, as if he found something amusing -"Best I have been in a while, though."

"How about you?"

It was nice to see Sander doing so well.

"I'm alright," she grinned, "Been training all week is all." There was a clear relief in the words. She hadn't gotten the chance to talk about it with anyone, afraid they might ask too many questions. Best to get it all out now.

"Training? So what are we doing today?"

"Mmm, well...." Callan hummed, "I was hoping we could try some stuff with Misery tonight. Since that's what I've been working on. But we don't have to-- we can save it for another time if you're not comfortable."

"It's fine." -Sander thought back to their first spar, and how that ended quite horribly. Well, he was weaker then. Things had changed -"We can do anything you want."

"Alright, then. Cool," she said, her tone a little less enthused. Had part of her hoped he'd say no? It wasn't as if she was still too terrified to summon Misery. Especially not after the week she'd had. But the idea of Sander potentially being hurt was still an uncomfortable possibility.

"So, Sandy," Callan chirped, trying to lighten the mood. She flashed him a somewhat mischevious smile, "You and Christmas look like you've gotten pretty close. It's been a while since we talked, so... I expect a full report."

"What do you want to know?" -The sudden nickname made Sander raise an eyebrow, but he did not comment on it.

"Well," she shifted the bag over her shoulder, "Are you guys dating now?"

"We are." -Sander admited easily, though it was clear he was gauging her reactions.

Her eyes lit up, smile widening. "Congrats!" Callan playfully shoved him in the shoulder, a little too rough. "Whoops. Sorry, forgot you aren't charged up yet," she patted his sleeve gently, like the dead arm that resulted could be brushed off as easily as a bit of dust.

"But hey, seriously. I'm really happy for you!"

"Y-Yeah. Thanks." -Sander forced a smile, kneading at the ache on his arm.

Callan grimaced. It would be a few minutes before they reached ground zero. "You need an ice pack? I brought some."

"An ice pack for?"

"For your shoulder," she answered flatly.

"My shoulder is fine. -Sander shrugged -"I think I told you before? Don't have to worry about me."

"Mm," Callan clicked her tongue. Now she remembered, "I know you self heal and all, but if it hurts, you can tell me."

Letting the subject go for now, Callan sighed. "How's your boyfriend doing, by the way?"

"He's fine. Do you want to see him?"

A nervous chuckle. What kind of question was that? "Did you want me to see him?"

"It's up to you."

A nervous laugh. What did he mean by that? "Okay... yeah... m-maybe later."

The rest of the walk to Ground Zero went by with similiar gaps of awkward silence and Callan's occassional attempt at conversing. Sander's shirt came from a store. An expensive store. Sander still didn't know how to swim. No, he'd never been to The Whistle Sip. No, he didn't know what bubble tea was.

With a defeated sigh as they finally reached what Callan had so far proclaimed her official training grounds, she set the duffel bag and first aid kid on a nearby bench and began stretching. Her body was still sore. Not as bad as two days ago... but it was a fair price to pay. Nothing that would severely hinder her training with Sander tonight. She glanced at the lights of the diner on the other side of the large park, a distant look in her eye as she remembered the turmoil of her first night.

Meanwhile, Sander was preparing silently. He already knew what the Change entailed, so he was quite confident that he could stay in full control. Yet, nerves pulled at his thoughts. Old habits died hard, after all. So he pressed a cannister against his lips and took a swig. The familiar metallic taste filled his mouth quickly; the blood was gasoline and his power was a spark. Power exploded in the rapid beats of his heart, and strength surged through his system. All familiar sensations, yet Sander could easily tell what was different. His power used to be a fearsome beast; it raved at his restrains and let loose his deepest, darkest desires. Now, it felt little more than a trained dog. It would snap and bark and snarl only at his behest. He could still feel the murderous intents and dark cravings, though, lurking beneath, but the feelings were so faint and weak that Sander believed it would take far more than his will to invoke.

By the time he finished most of his blood cache, red smoke was wisping up from his torso and his eyes were glowing a bright red. He stood still though, arms lax at his sides as he waited for Callan. He didn't have to wait long. Callan slid out of her hoodie and left it by the bag-- safe from the impending fight. Turning to face Sander, she quietly took in his appearance.

"You've gotten stronger, right? Since the last time," she guessed, remembering the conversation she had with Emma. All of her improvements so far had been for Misery. Not that she wasn't happy to have the reigns or for the weapons she was able to summon now (even if they were ridiculously heavy), but... giving it the ability to fly had seemed more like a cruel joke.

"Yes. I think." -Sander smiled, reaching up to unbutton his shirt -"What do you want do?"

Callan looked unsure for a brief moment before heading towards the park's center. "First person to get pinned wins. Sound fair?"

"So...do you want to win?"

"Only if you do," Callan smirked at him over her shoulder, "I mean it-- don't go easy on me this time!"

"Okay." -Sander nodded, shrugging off his shirt and folding it neatly, before putting it in a safe spot with the cooler -"Go all out. It'll be fine."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Callan called.

A moment later, and Callan stood across from Sander, crouched as she counted down. Sander kept a neutral stance though, and suddenly, both him and Callan was glowing red, the aura draping over them like a warm cloak. Callan looked down at her hands in surprise. She hadn't even thought to use Sander's invincibility for sparring-- it was a good idea considering what happened last time. She nodded in thanks, "Two... one... go!"

She'd tried to use her spare time to look up fighting techniques online, but somehow they all felt a little lacking. Obviously not designed for people who could dig craters into the ground just by jumping or running a littletoo hard, but... better than nothing. Even if, until now, she'd had no way to apply them on an actual opponent. Fists up, Callan's shoes dug into the dirt as she aimed a kick at his side. Sander only grinned as he caught the leg and lunged forward, intending to knock Callan out of balance. Her eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't keep up! The remaining leg lost contact with the ground and she slipped backwards, grunting as she hit the ground. With the assurance of his power around both of them, Sander allowed himself to use his full strength. With one arm hooked around the back of Callan's knee, his other hand gripped her shoulder to keep her pin down.

"I win?" -The blood mage grinned, though he still hadn't loosened his grip one bit.

Callan stared up at him, her expression quickly melting from shock to irritation, "Yeah, yeah. Now get off. Let's go again."

The matches continued. One after the other in quick succession. Callan lost more than she would've liked and the victories she did claim didn't feel exactly right. Sander had gotten stronger, but as they fought, she didn't get the impression he was any more so than herself. Just half a foot taller, give or take.

Almost an hour later, she found herself pinned in the exact same position. Staring up at the exact same smirk. "Ugh," breathing heavily, she gave him a weak shove, "Okay, I think that's enough for now. Let's take a break."

"Sure." -The blood mage straightened up then, offering a hand to Callan, though he had yet to wiped the smile off his face. He had just never allowed himself to fight with such deliberation and excitement. It was exhilirating.

Callan stared at his hand for a moment. Almost petty enough not to take it. "Thanks," she sighed, still trying to catch her breath. She made her way quickly over to the bench, sitting down heavily and grabbing her bag, fishing around inside for a much needed drink or two. Sander just took a seat right on the packed dirt, traces of a smile were still lingering on his expression, but when he turned to address Callan, his eyes were serious. He was once again gauging her reactions closely.

"So...was it okay?"

Unscrewing the top off a luke warm sports drink, Callan tiredly sighed again, resting it in her lap. She peeked at him sideways, noticing the look on his face. Real proud of himself, wasn't he? She inwardly groaned, always the sore loser. No use getting bent up over it. Baby steps, she tried to remind herself.

"Heh... Yeah, you did good," she admitted, smiling, "Not a single biting incident and you won a lot. Beat me fair and square." She held the drink towards him, already reaching into her bag for a second.

Sander paled slightly at the mention of 'biting incidents', but he recovered soon enough, lips stretching into another smile.

"Thanks." -He inched closer to grab the offered bottle, though he did not drink.

It wasn't nearly as refreshing warm. Taking modest sip, she thought about bringing a cooler of her own next time-- wasn't like it'd be too heavy to carry. Her eyes fell on Sander's untouched drink as she finished. "Not thirsty?" she quipped.

"Not really. " -Sander said, but he took a sip then, seemingly to placate Callan -"But...yeah this tastes nice."

"You don't have to drink it if you don't want to," she smirked.

"But you want me to, right?"

Callan laughed, "Dude, I don't care. I just thought you might want one after all that fighting.... Then again, I guess you don't look very tired..."

"I only get tired...after."

She quirked an eyebrow in surprise, "Oh." Her eyes flickered from the mark to his glowing red irises, "That explains a lot." She quietly took another sip of her drink. Certainly explained why he was beating her so easily those last few rounds....

"Well, you can save it for later if you want. I just need a few more minutes...." she more hurriedly took another drink, not wanting to make Sander wait too long.

"It's fine." -Sander looked at her with a bit of concern now -"Take your time."

Already in the middle of downing the last bit, Callan crushed the hard plastic bottle in her hand and leaned against the back of the bench. She stared up at the sky, letting her breaths even out. She wiped some sweat off of her temple with the back of her hand, expression darkening as her thoughts turned towards thier next task. That only worried Sander more. He left his bottle on the ground before walking closer to where Callan was, watching her intently.

"Are you okay?"

Callan shook her head lightly, "Yeah." She frowned, quiet for the a moment as if she might not say anything more.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm having some second thoughts... about Misery," she smiled apologetically, "Maybe we should just stick to what we've been doing, you know?"

"Misery? Your...creature?" -Sander raised an eyebrow, recalling his previous encounter with the monstrous shadow. It had hurt him, and it was stronger than him then. But he was positive he could beat it if he used his full strength. And he would.

"I'll be fine. We can do whatever you want."

She further crushed the bottle in her hands, staring past him at the diner. "How can you be so sure?" She looked back at him, "There's a reason I don't tell anybody about this thing. I don't want to have to race you over to Christmas in a bucket, Sander."

"It won't come to that." -Sander assured Callan once more, nothing but sincerity in his eyes. He genuinely believed in his own progress -"I got better at controlling."

"It's not your control I'm concerned about," she muttered. The risks were all there. Excruciatingly there. The answer should be simple. But... she wanted so badly to know. To see if Sander could beat Misery into submission. Maybe even....

After a moment, she finally stood up, "Let's just... keep sparring...."

Sander tilted his head, looking like he was about to protest. But in the end, he only nodded.

"If that's what you want."

They carried on with their sparring, though this time around, Callan seemed far distracted. It felt like she was simply going through the motions, barely reacted even when Sander pinned her down several times in a row. Eventually, Sander noticed Callan's stamina was reaching its limit; she could barely keep up with him anymore.

"Maybe...we should call it a day?" -He asked, looking down at Callan who was once again on her back, knocked down into the dirt.

She could barely breathe, let alone talk. Nonetheless, Callan forced out a short "'Kay" in agreeance, simply waiting for Sander to get off instead of making any attempt to move him herself. Her skin was clammy with sweat, the salty taste of it stinging her eyes and invading her mouth as she gulped down air like it was going out of style. Once Sander had stood himself up, she held out her hand first, anticipating the help since they'd gone through this motion so many times already. As expected, Sander grabbed her hand and helped her up, frowning slightly.

"Are you okay? Hurt anywhere?" -There was no open wound as far as he knew, but broken bones or fracture ribs could still be a possibility. Though when he thought back to this later, he felt silly. His power had protected them both.

Callan shook her head, forcing herself not to lean over and grab her knees the moment she was back on her feet. "'M fine," she mumbled, sounding dissappointed. "Need a drink..." Callan made walked back to the bench, legs feeling heavy and sluggish. She felt like she could lay down and immediately sleep, but that wasn't an option. Sander followed Callan after a moment, offering his drink bottle to her.

Callan paused, panting loudly as her gaze darted between Sander and the beverage. Right. He wasn't tired. An irrational jealousy briefly flared, but she brushed it off, gratefully accepting the drink but too tired to say thanks. She heavily planted herself on the bench and drained the container of its contents quickly before rummaging around in her bag for a small towel and a bag of trail mix. Sander remained silent though, simply taking a seat nearby and watching Callan closely. Despite the obvious absence of his Stigma, the concern for his friend was still there, and he could help but worried. Callan had been acting a bit different, after all.

It took a while before Callan cooled down and finally noticed the concerned look Sander was giving her. "I'm alright," she smiled reassuringly, wiping the last bit of sweat off her cheek.

"You're sure?" -Sander didn't look entirely convinced.

"Yes," she emphasized, "Now stop looking at me like that. It's just... been a while since I pushed myself that hard. That's all." She flippantly ripped open the bag of trail mix, offering it to Sander more out of habit that anything. "You gotta try this one," she smirked, "It's my new favorite."

The offer prompted Sander to accept a handful of trailmix, which he picked at.

Callan frowned, "Ah, no. You're eating it all wrong. You gotta eat the whole handful at once." She reached into the bag and pulled out a small assortment of her own, quickly demonstrating. "Like that," she mumbled, covering her mouth.

"Uh...But that's just too much." -Sander squinted, but he followed suit, shoving the whole handful down his throat. It turned out to be a bit too much, after all, and Sander ended up swallowing a few whole. He coughed and choked in the aftermath, winded. He turned to Callan with a hurt look in his eyes, as if she had betrayed him.

Callan sat up a little straighter, still chewing as her expression of alarm morphed into concern before running blank at the look he was giving her. She couldn't help it. A subdued laugh through her nose quickly erupted into a series of short giggles, lacing every word she tried to say behind her hand. "Jesus, how big was your handful?" she laughed, struggling not to choke on her own mouthful of trail mix, "N-next time try a little less."

"You had more than me." -Sander almost grumbled, still coughing the residuals away.

Another laugh, "Well, clearly you need more practice." She held the bag out again, daring him to try-- even if it was just for her own sick entertainment.

Sander just stared for a while, before dropping his gaze -"You can have this round, Callan."

"Ha!" she pulled the bag back triumphantly, "Alright, but I'm sending you home with a bag." Callan leaned back agains the bench again, tossing another handful into her mouth and seeming a little cheerier. The silence between them stretched for a few moments, Callan occupied with her snack while Sander stared at a wisp of red smoke rising from his arm, distracted. Eventually, he turned to Callan.

"Do you have anyone you like?" -The question was dropped in a casual tone, like they were just talking about the weather.

She gave him a sideways glance, taking a quick gulp of her drink before answering. "I like a lot of people," she smiled, teasing a bit. She knew what he was asking.

"Oh?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, failing miserably at pretending to be serious, "As friends." Her smiled widened.

"Oh." -Sander just made the same sound, his shoulders dropping.

Callan chuckled at him, "Oh, did you mean something else?"

"I mean...do you like someone...uh...romantically?"

"Ohh, why didn't you just say so?" she cooed mockingly. Her smiled faltered a little, but she was sure to look away before Sander could spot it. Callan thought for a moment.

"Yeah... I guess I do," she said.

"So what do you do to...have them?"

She looked back at him suddenly, not expecting such a question as follow up. "What do I... have to do?" she repeated slowly, legitimately stumped.

"To have their person you like."

Callan frowned, furrowing her brow for a moment. An uncertain smile pulled at her lips, though her eyes seemed like they held a resigned sort of dejection, "That's not a very easy question, Sandy."

"I know." -Sander was serious though, as there was far more than idle curiosity in his question. He didn't explain much, however -"I just...want to know."

She frowned again, combing her fingers through her bangs uncomfortably. "I...," she thought of Marcus and Emma. Riley's warning came to mind. But after that-- nothing but static.

Callan look increasingly troubled, "I can't really...." She quickly smiled again, flustered by how much she knew she was revealing with just her face alone. "It's not one of those situations where I can do anything."

"Okay." -Sander nodded, noting the look of distress on Callan's face -"Sorry."

"No, it's fine," she hid behind another sip of her drink, "I'm fine, really. Fish in the sea and all that, right?"

Sander tilted his head, confused.

Callan smirked, Shoul've known better. "'There are always more fish in the sea'-- it's an expression. Mostly just something people tell you when you can't be with the person you want to be with. When that happens, you gotta just move on. Find somebody else. That sort of thing."

"You don't...fight for the one you love?"

"...Not when they choose somebody else."

"Oh." -Sander seemed taken aback. The thought simply had never crossed his mind. What if Christmas had wanted someone else? He did know what he would do, if that was the case.

"That's...very sad, then."

Callan shrugged, tossing another small handful of trail mix into her mouth. "Could be worse." She pushed herself to her feet, reaching for her hoodie and packing up her bag. Sander didn't say anything for a while, just watched as Callan slowly getting ready to leave. Then his eyes caught the ruined skyscraper in the distance, and it gave him an idea.

"Hey Callan, wanna see something?"

Pulling her head through her hoodie, Callan shot him a quizzical glance. "Uh... sure? What is it?" she asked, shouldering her bag.

"I can show you something." -Sander stepped closer and placed a tentative arm her waist -"May I?"

She stiffened at the touch, looking mildly alarmed. "S-sure," Callan stammered hesitantly. He still hadn't put his shirt back on. With permission, Sander hooked an arm around Callan's waist, and in a flood in strength, he leapted up, carrying both of them into the air. As they reached the crest of the leap though, instead of falling back down with the pull of gravity, they remained airborne, floating in the murky sky of GZ.

Callan gasped, not realizing what Sander was planning to do before it was too late, "Okay, wai--!" Her voice was lost in the in the sudden rush of wind, breathe catching in her throat as her fingers dug into Sander's warm skin. She squeezed him tightly, only daring to open one eye when they didn't immediately fall. Still petrified, however, her grip on his torso remained the same.

"Y-you can fly?" she asked, staring at the twinkling and broken city of GZ below. Her face flushed, in equal parts due to exasperation and the undeniably half-naked Sander currently holding on to her.

"Not really...flying." -Sander kept his eyes trained on the city below, still looked mildly surprised, as if he half-expected it to not work at all -"Floating is more accurate, I guess."

"Mm," she mumbled, grip tightening. Floating meant you eventually fell, right? "Th-that's pretty cool," she shivered, anxiety clear in her voice.

As if he was able to read her mind, Sander only grinned as they began to float upward, slowing every so often to dodge the suspended debris that littered GZ's sky -"Don't worry. We won't fall."

"Uhm... okay," she said, doing her best to believe him. She cringed at every impending chunck of debris, noting how Sander was able to control his floating somewhat. She was quiet after that, fully aware of how fast her heart was still beating as she tried to 'enjoy the ride'. She'd never been great with heights. Even knowing that she'd easily survive a fall from this high up, however, she couldn't shake the nerves. Having Sander there was a small comfort, though a small part of herself couldn't stop internally grumbling about this all being his fault.

Slowly but surely, she started to calm down. Her blood had stopped pounding in her ears at least. Sander gave her an odd look then, before mumbling -"Sorry. I just thought...I just want to cheer you up."

She looked up at him. "O-oh! That's... it's okay! This is really cool!" she lied, trying to be polite, "I'm just, uh... n-not really used to being up this high without a s-seatbelt or something...."

Helicopters were okay. Buildings were fine. But this feeling of being completely unrestrained?

"We can keep going," she offered with a nervous grin, "J-just don't drop me."

"Oh. That's good." -Sander gave a faint smile in return, nodding as he ascended further up into the wide expanse. Slowly, he was moving them both out of GZ and back into the dormitory areas -"It's just...you told me before, remember? You said it will get better. You're right. So I think it will get better for you, too."

A small laugh forced its way out. Her dumb advice was being thrown back at her now of all times? Coming from Sander? She couldn't explain why she thought it was so funny. "Well, I hope you're right," she chuckled, resolving not to look down anymore. Instead, she fixed her eyes on the sleeping school beyond GZ.

She thought for a moment about her classmates. All the new friends she'd made. "I hope it gets better for everyone else, too."

"I think so, yeah. Don't worry." -Sander reassured her with another smile. They made small talk on their way back, passing by the window of his own room briefly, where he noticed Christmas' blue eyes looking right at him. He waved with a light smile. Eventually, Sander dropped the Arbiter off at her dorm room. Unexpectedly though, she turned and gave him a hug, in which the blood mage froze momentarily, before patting her awkwardly on the back. She still adamantly pressed a bag of trail mix into his hands though, which Sander took with him after a bit of convincing. After that, he quickly returned to his room, thin wisps of red were still clinging to his body.

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @Diggerton@Baklava}

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕦𝕤 / / 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸 : ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕗 / / 𝟘𝟠𝟘𝟘

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Secrets Out

It was early. Early for Determination, at least. She wasn't much of an early riser, but... she had a lot on her mind, she suppoused. Didn't feel a lot like staying in one place. Emma was still asleep when she left, thankfully. Emma has spent a lot of nights not sleeping. She felt a little guilty - it was all too likely that she was part of the reason that Emma had been so weird lately. Or would it be worse if she wasn't around to keep Emma company? She knew that the girl liked having her around, even if she tried not to act like it.

Questions for another day, Determination decided. Part of the reason she'd left was because she needed to get some of the stuff that was on her mind off of it - stuff that she couldn't share with Emma. It wasn't like Determination had a lot of people to confide in besides her creator... something, it seemed, that she direly needed to change. She decided it would be a good idea to find someone that Emma was close to, which was... a narrow pool. She didn't really like Marcus all that much, not at all really, which pretty much left her with only one option.

Callan. Kelp head? Kelp head.

Building A, Suite 430. She was surprised that she remembered. It was a short walk - it was kind of nice to get around campus on her own for once. In fact, she felt pretty damn good stretching her legs, walking her fine ass self around with those new clothes Emma got her. Her outfit was pretty simple: a beanie, a white tanktop, those tight black jeans that are all ripped up that were all the rage way back when, a pair of Converse... simple, but it felt right. She got a few odd looks. At first her confidence was a little shot, but then she realized that it was probably because she was a regular to these people. She wasn't stopped, though, something she ascribed to an old rule she always followed: if you look like you know where you were going people won't stop you, even if you're not suppoused to be there.

Wait, no. Not a rule she followed. A rule that someone else followed.

She was lost in thought, barely realizing that she'd arrived at the suite. She stared at the door. "Alright. What the fuck am I doing? 'Hey, Cal, your brand new BFF's weird fucking thoughtform bullshit thing is here and wants to dish some dirty secrets with you. You're totally not creeped the fuck out by me, right?' Yeah, Det, that sounds great. I'm sure Kelp Head won't slam the fucking door in your face." she muttered underneath her breath, working up the courage to knock on the door. "Or shit, with my luck it'll be 'Heeeeey Scarface. Cal in there? By the way, I sleep in the same bed with as girlfriend. I'm trying to work up the courage to get under the covers with her. You don't get to do that yet, huh? Also, I look like her ex. Cool, right?" she sighed. Fuck, what was she doing here? "Maybe I'll get lucky and get the bookworm. She doesn't know who I am and I can just pretend that I had the wrong door. Then I'll be weird and a coward."

Determination knocked. Three quick knocks, forced out before she changed her mind.

The door eased open relatively quickly, revealing a tired, but freshly showered Callan whose expression quickly dropped to a frown. Clearly expecting anyone else.

"Uh," she kept the door half closed, leaning into the hall and searching for Emma before her eyes fell back on Determination. "Hey, Det... what's up?"

Yeah, that was pretty much the reaction Determination expected.

She similarly glanced over Cal's shoulder, eyes scanning for intruding roommates. ”Oof. No reason to look so disappointed kelp head, I'm a perfectly nice gal!” she let out a nervous laugh, glancing behind her, ”Whatever. Not important. We need to chat.” her tone turned serious.

Callan didn't comment on the 'perfectly nice' bit. She couldn't help it. This new version of Determination made her uncomfortable on at least 8 different levels. She needed to talk? Without Emma? That didn't sound good, either. Callan glanced over her shoulder. "Okay... Marcus is still sleeping though, so maybe we can talk downstairs?"

”Right. Yeah, sure. Not downstairs though, how about... how about the roof? Sounds suitably dramatic... and I want some quiet anyways.”

"The roof..." Callan's eyes wandered towards the ceiling. She supposed it was closer. What was the worse that could happen?

She decided not to think about it.

"Okay... uh... let's go," Callan slid her sandals on and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Determination set off down the hallway, shoving her hands in her pockets. ”So... uh... watchya think about scarface?” Determination chanced, glancing back at Cal.

"Scarface?" she blinked up at the blue haired tulpa, "O-oh... you mean Marcus." She immediately tensed, trying to hide the sudden rise of suspiscion. "He's..." her conversation with Emma the day before came to mind. 'Like a kid who doesn't like her mom getting a new boyfriend...'

"He's a good person," Callan nodded reassuringly, her tone gaining a little more confidence, "One of the best people I know around here, if I'm being honest."

”Hmph.” was all Determination said at first, ”Like him, huh? Must be a little weird, having a co-ed dorm.”

Callan cleared her throat, quickly pretending to check her phone, "Yeah, I thought it was gonna be weird but, uh... we're all friends now so things are chill." She chuckled nervously, "Everybody gets along."

”Mmmmhm. Cool.” Determination cleared her throat, ”Hormones though. Like, not weird, at all?”

Callan squirmed, slipping her hands into her pockets. They were starting to sweat. She needed a subject change and fast.

"Nope!" she answered, forcing a smile, "Hey, uh. By the way-- where's Emma? I'm guessing she doesn't know you're over here?"

"Getting her beauty sleep. She hasn't been sleeping so well, so I figure I'd let her pay back that sleep debt. Anyways, I kinda wanted to talk about something that I couldn't really talk about with her."

They'd finally reached the stairwell-- a walk which had somehow felt much longer given the previous subject matter. "Alright, well... hold that thought," Callan suggested, her voice echoing as she led the way up the stairs. Of course, the door to the roof was locked.

"Uh," Callan wiggled the knob a little more, hoping it was just stuck, "Darn. I didn't know they kept this locked."

"Pffft. You've got super strength, man, why let a lock stop ya?" Determination sighed, reaching down and producing a bobby pin from her sock. "Whatevs, I got some mad skills. Lemme show ya how we do shit." she unfolded the bobby pin, wiggling it into the crevice of the lock. "Ya don't learn this shit in suburbia, huh?"

'I don't think that's a good idea.' She might've said it if Det hadn't already gone ahead with her lock-picking plan. Geez, she sure did know a lot. Callan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yeahh..." she agreed absently. To her knowledge, she'd never told Det about where she was from.

”Heh. Pretty handy, huh?” right as Determination said that, a quiet snap came from the doorknob. She sighed, presenting a broken bobby pin. ”Shit. Guess I'm not as good as I thought, huh?” she flashed a weak grin, ”Y'know what plan B is, right?” before Callan could answer she elbowed the door, knocking it open with a loud crack.

"Whoa!" Callan gasped in protest, but it was too late. The door was open. She cringed, looking over her shoulder like an alarm might start blaring any minute now.

"Uhm... okay. Th-that works, I guess." Probably not the first time anyone broke onto the roof at a school like that. She closed the door carefully behind them, grimacing at the state of it before turning back to face Det. "So what did you want to talk about?"

”Hell yeah it works.” Determination said, heading out onto the roof. She took in a gulp of air, ”Yeah. Like I said, usually when I have some kind of moral dilemma I ask Em about it, but...” Determination sighed, placing her hands behind her head, turning to look away from Cal. ”Well, it's about her. There's... something that I know and she doesn't. Something that would... uh, something that'd really hurt her.”

Determination found a vent to sit on. ”She doesn't realize it, but I remember everything about the night that the USARILN guys got her. And... she doesn't know the whole story.” Determination looked down, ”She told you about her sister, right? Val? The one that came and rescued her from her parents, told her that she'd take her to California so they could forget about all this subnatural bullshit?”

Callan froze, thinking of everything she knew about Emma's older sister. They were really close-- that much she could guess just by listening to the way Emma talked about her. She was also well-aware of Val and Emma's failed attempt to run away and hide-out in California. And the fact that Emma hadn't been able to contact any of her family members since she got to USARILN. It was all chillingly familiar to her own situation, but Callan hadn't wanted to make things about her when the conversation came up. No need to make people worry. She was doing fine after all.

But was it really okay to be talking with Determination about something so personal?

After another moment of consideration, Callan nodded slowly. There was no harm in finding out what the tulpa had to say. If it was serious enough, she could always tell Emma later.

”Well, I was there. Emma's power awakened and I don't think she really figure out how to send me away, and... I was there the whole time. I saw things that she didn't. I'm not going to bother explaining everything, but...”

Determination bit her lip.

”Emma thinks that her sister... she thinks that Valentine did everything she could to help her. But... but Val... fuck, man, she decided that it was too much. She flew all the way to New York convinced that she could save her, but she realized she had no idea what the fuck she was messing with! So... so she decided to sell out her fucking sister.”

Callan stared in disbelief, turning towards where she could see Building B across the courtyard while it sank in. "Are you sure?" she asked, looking back at Det, "You're absolutely sure?" She didn't want to say it, but Det hadn't exactly been the most intelligent thing on two legs when Callan had first met it. And this definitely wasn't something to fuck around with.

”Em was sleeping, Val called 911, told them where they were. The bitch fucking... she fronted like she was going to stick by her the whole time.” Determination scowled, ”It's bullshit man. Em trusted her more than anything and she... fuck.”

That sounded pretty sure.... Callan down on the vent beside Det, mind racing. She found the words slowly, as if trying to solve a puzzle. "It... I guess it would be kind of a scary commitment, though. Right? Life on the run. Forever... Y'know?"

”Bitch shouldn't of made a promise she couldn't keep. Do you know how much that'd crush Emma? If she found it? It would fucking destroy her. She trusted Val so much, like... man, fuck that. It's fucked up.”

Callan shook her head quickly, "No, I know. You're right. There's... really no excuse for stabbing someone in the back like that. E-especially family." She rubbed her forehead, trying to stay focused on one thing at a time, "I'm just... trying to figure it out. So maybe I can help Emma understand it... when she finds out, you know?"

"I mean... what if she doesn't? Should I tell her? Like, I feel like shit. I'm lying to her, but... I think it's better this way. Right? Is that dumb? I mean, she already feels bad enough, I don't need to pile that shit on, right Cal?"

"Uhm," Callan thought. She thought hard. Man, what a mess. She looked at Det, feeling just as lost and looking it, too. If she had a chance to go back and have Dom not tell her about everything her parents did... would she still want to know...? No. Of course she'd want to know. That wasn't the right question.

She remembered the pain. The heartache. The feeling of complete and total isolation. Anger and sadness both trying to occupy every inch of her heart and head at the same time. She didn't want Emma to feel that. She wouldn't wish it on her greatest enemy, let alone a dear friend.

She had come out okay. Figured out a way to cope. But Emma... who knew how Emma would take the news? Would her stigma somehow make it worse? The truth would come out anyway, so would doing nothing simply prolong the inevitable...? Or would they all be dead before the year was out anyway?

Tell her? Don't tell her?

Callan sighed heavily, running her fingers through her bangs like clockwork and bouncing her leg in aggitation.

"Wh-why wouldn't you tell Marcus instead of me?" Callan mumbled, quickly feeling overwhelmed by the weight of it all, "He probably knows her way better than I do."

”Hmph. I'm not stupid, kelp head. You already know why I'm not talking to Marcus. The reason you're thinking is probably right.”

Her shoulders tensed, amethyst eyes quickly looking away. She chewed the inside of her cheek. That was a can of worms she didn't want to open. Especially not with Det.

None of my business!

Callan sighed again, leaning forward and propping her forehead up on her elbows. "Uggh," she groaned, "Fuck... This is so... not what I'm good at."

Determination took off her beanie, running a hand through her hair. ]”You've got, what, seventeen, sixteen years of existence on me? You're better at this shit than me.” Determination sighed, reaching into her pocket. She produced a pack of cigarettes, pinching one between her fingers and dangling it in front of her for a moment, ”You, uh...?”

Callan looked at the cigarette out of the corner of her eye, accepting the opportunity for a distraction. A brief interlude from shitstorm Determination had already given her. And she hadn't even had breakfast yet....

"You smoke?" she smirked.

A kind of sad smile flickered onto Determination's face. ”She did.”

Determination coughed.

”Uh, Riley, I mean. Guess that means I do too.” Determination eyed the cigarette again, face turning neutral again, ”So, is that a no, or...?”

Callan shook her head, "No thanks. I'm good." She sighed again, leaning back on her hands. She kept thinking as Determination lit her cigarette, finally coming to some sort of decision.

Honesty was always the best policy, right?

"I think we have to tell her," she said.

"Heh, guess you've gotta worry about lung cancer."

Determination took a deep drag of her cigarette. Tasted like smoke, she thought. She flicked open her lighter, staring at the flame.

”Emma's tried to kill herself before. Still think it's a good idea?”

Her heart dropped, landing in her stomach like a heavy stone.

"She... what?" Callan sat up quickly. "S-seriously?"

Smoke tasted like shit, Determination decided, but there was a comfort in it. She closed the lighter but quickly opened it again, then she did it again. One more time, shut then open.

”Yeah. Guess she didn't like the idea of being a sub. Dunno if she'd do it again.”

Another drag from the cigarette. She wasn't sure if she liked it but she didn't want to stop.

Callan stared at Determination, eyes flickering from the lighter to her face. She wasn't joking, was she? Her stomach felt like it was churning, any hope of an appetite anytime soon completely expelled from thought. That day when she and Emma got bubble tea... 'Giving up'...?

"Oh my god, I'm an idiot," Callan breathed, just above a whisper. She held her gut with one hand and pressed her fingers against her mouth with the other, mind racing again.

She looked back and Det. Did she really trust this thing?

"Okay, okay," Callan continued, more in an effort to calm herself down, "I don't know if... Look. Emma's... going to find out eventually, isn't she? Isn't that inevitable? And if she finds out on her own... it'd be really bad. Even worse if she's... you know."

"At least if we told her, we could, like... try and be supportive. Help her through it.... I don't know."

Callan sighed again, exhausted. Maybe it wasn't the right answer-- or even a good one. But if she could go back and change anything about the day she found out... she wished someone would have been there. Someone she was close to, who could have softened the blow and held her until she didn't feel so hopeless. She swallowed hard, unwanted thoughts of Marcus infiltrating her thoughts. Waiting up all night for her to come home. Offering to talk. Offering a hug. She wished she could have taken it.

A bitter taste filled Determination's mouth, but she didn't think it was because of the cigarette.

”She's fragile, Cal.” Determination stood up. ”This whole subnatural thing fucking sucks, huh?” for a second, Determination thought of a lifetime that she'd never lived, a lifetime way back before all this.

But it wasn't her life to miss.

”I'll do whatever you want. I'm not good at this shit.”

"I get that she's fragile," Callan mumbled, clearly frustrated. If Det was so sure about what not to do, why ask her for help at all? "I-I'm trying to think of what will make her hurt the least, okay? I'm not good at this shit either."

Callan stood up as well. Staring up at the blue haired girl who suddenly seemed to be towering over her a bit more than usual.

"Maybe just... give me some time to think. I at least need to sleep on it...."

Sleep on it. Determination had been sleeping on this for a long time. She took another drag from her cigarette, slow, long, before exhaling. She understood why Riley liked them so much – why she liked them so much. ”You ever wish you didn't exist?” the words came from her mouth all too casually as she grabbed her beanie, putting it back on.

A helpless expression crossed Callan's face. How was that supposed to help?

She thought for a second. Had she ever wished she didn't exist?

"I don't know. Not really..." she finally decided on, but felt such a vague answer needed clarification. She didn't know how to give it-- or rather, didn't want to. Was that even the truth? Instead she simply kept staring at Det. Waiting for the point to be made.

”Huh. Just me, I guess.”

Apparently, there was no point to be made.

”That's not important. Cal, you ever lied to someone you love? Lied because you thought the truth would hurt them?”

Callan pushed her bangs back against her head, sighing through her nose. Okay, she thought she knew where Det was going with that one. She opened her mouth to speak, but then it hit her.

"Like... how I don't tell Marcus that you're--"

She said it without thinking. It felt like someone had cinched a noose around her guts. She blinked in alarm, staring up at Determination like someone watching a suspensful scene in a horror movie.

Gears turning.

Something clicked.

She squeezed the cigarette in her hand, the tip falling to the ground. Not on purpose.

”Fuck me. I'm gonna need another.”

She dropped the rest, crushing it under her foot. Pulled out another cigarette. Flicked open the lighter, lit it. There were a lot of things to analyze about that statement, she wasn't sure where to start.

”Fuck you, Callan.”

Yeah, that was a good start. She took a drag from her cigarette.

”Wow, man, fuck you.”

Okay, maybe reel it in a bit. Determination wasn't looking at Callan anymore.

”Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Goddamn, her heart was beating fast. She could feel it pulsing in her ears, pounding in her brain.

Fix it-- for the love of God, FIX WHAT YOU JUST DID.

Her voice was shaking. Tears imminent.

"Emma and Marcus are... both really special to me," she said, carefully choosing her words, "I don't want to see either of them get hurt... ever. For any reason. I just want them to be happy. More than anything, that's what I want."

”Hah.”

Determination paused for a moment, turning towards Cal, and then she broke out into laughter. It took a moment for her to calm down. ”Holy shit, I take it back. I AM really fucking stupid.” Determination, for a moment, grinned. But it faded quick. Serious. Resting bitch face, or maybe just bitch bitch face. ”Hormones, huh? One of the best people around here...?” Determination's face twisted to malice.

”God, fuck is it with you people and this Marcus guy! Shit smells Cal, and I'm getting a heavy whiff of bullshit right now. You're a really fucking bad liar. Jesus... Jesus fucking Christ.” Determination moved a little closer towards Callan, ”Your roommate? Your friend's boyfriend? God, that's fucking classless. I'm wrong, right, kelp head? Be honest with me, are you just waiting for the chance to jump in scarface's pants? If he showed up and wanted to give ya a ride would you even give a shit about how Emma felt?”

No. No, no, no.

Callan promptly backed up, thick, salty tears already spilling over a burning hot face before Determination even finished talking. Her tall frame blocked out the morning sun and everything else, too. It felt like there was no air. God, how could she forget to breathe? Her body was a freezing cocktail of of adrenaline, panic, and heaps of confused embarrasment.

"N-no, I wouldn't do that!" She shook her head sharply, tears scattering off her face. It was the truth! She tried to keep telling herself, but every second Det leered down at her, Callan felt more and more like the worst person in existence. Shrinking so small she couldn't even see herself anymore.

”Oh my god, Webb, that's fucking pathetic. Ooooh, shit shit shit shit. Wow. Wow. WOW! I'm going to be honest... I personally don't give a single shit about whatever weird wet dreams you have about the guy, but... MAN! If you fucking hurt Emma, I'll...” Determination seemed almost manic, ”Shit. Alright. Alright. Fuck. You're making things so fucking complicated right now. How... shit, how do we deal with this. You know that you're like... like, Emma's best friend right now?! Y'know how much she needs a best friend right now? A nice, honest best friend that isn't trying to fuck her boyfriend?”

Determination calmed. Her eyes narrowed, looming over Callan. ”Don't fucking lie to me right now. Webb, if you answer what I'm about to ask you with a lie, you're... you're... I'm going to be all kinds of pissed off.” Determination took a long drag from her cigarette. Composure. Like Riley. She was so good at doing this kinda thing, ”Is this little crush of yours going to go away?”

Callan couldn't decribe ever having felt more fucking terrified in her whole life.

"I-I'm trying to--" she stammered, reaching behind herself for the wall by the door. Something to hang onto-- to remind her that this was seriously happening and not just some horrific nightmare she might wake up from.

Determination's scowl turned even more distinct. Somehow, it seemed that she couldn't look any angrier but it still happened. Determination got low, moving her face dangerously close to Cal's. There was something in her eyes. Malice? Hate? Maybe she wanted to hurt.

"Yes or no?"

Callan had never been a great liar. Not even a good one, really. But here and now, facing Emma's tulpa, it felt like a matter of life and death. She couldn't say how Det would do it-- only that she had full confidence in it's likelihood of happening.

She willed the correct answer to be true and so it was.

"Yes," Callan answered, leaning away more, finally colliding with the wall behind her. Her fingers dug into the bricks, scattering little red fragments by her feet as she tried to find purchase.

Determination backed up, letting loose a grin. ”That wasn't so hard, right Cal? Phew, I don't like having to get angry like that. Makes me feel all weird. Y'know I just want to be pals, right? So, like, it would be a lot easier...” suddenly Determination moved forward again, foot quickly snapping out and kicking the vent, leaving a large dent in the metal and causing a loud crash, ”If you stopped fucking LYING!” the grin was gone, the scowl was back.

Determination, in reality, really was convinced that Callan was telling the truth. Or at least, Callan thought she was telling the truth. ”You're fucking lying to yourself right now, Cal. Right? Right? You didn't let the fact that it was your friend's boyfriend dissuade you, so why do you care now? Because you're scared. But listen, that's fine. I'm a pal. Like I said, I wanna be your friend! So, be honest with yourself and maybe I can give you some friendly advice. There are a lot of ways to get over a crush! Riley's been around the block, and I've got her knowledge, so lemme help ya. Ya dig? ” and now Determination was smiling again, just like that.

Callan didn't know why the sudden kick to the vent made her jump as badly as it did. She was stronger than the tulpa. No need to freak out.

But Determination was right. She was scared. It was all over. Everyone would know. They'd all think she was a horrible person because she couldn't get over it. She locked herself in a fucking room for three weeks and still couldn't get over it. She was weak and stupid and selfish. And worst of all-- it would devastate Emma.

Maybe she could dissappear. Run away, get a new room, change her name, cut her hair. Beg Zhang to pair her with a different group. She hardly realized what she was doing until her hand closed around the doorknob, desperate for an escape.

Determination eyed Callan's hand, still smiling. ”We're still talking, Cal. Hands off.” she sounded so cheery. ”Listen, it's hard for you guys. Real people, that is. I get it. Hormones. Like I said, I've got some advice. Some sisterly pro-tips, some scenarios that could happen! Fun, right? The first thing I was thinking... maybe it would help to move out. I know what you're thinking, but if you really want to get over this living with the dude probably isn't helping.”

Determination shrugged, ”But I get it if you don't want that. You're all pals at Suite 430, huh? So maybe that'd be hard. I wouldn't want you to resent me, so maybe we can steer clear of that one. I dunno, what do ya think, kelp head?” Determination was trying her best to bring it down, calm Cal down. She spoke slowly, softly. She didn't want to scare her off.

She didn't know why she was still listening to her. Callan's hand slid off the doorknob and she leaned against the door frame instead. The tulpa would probably just follow her if she tried to leave, wouldn't it? Oh, she wanted to throw up. She nodded uneasily at Det's suggestion, but it was so hard to listen when her thoughts were all racing around so fast.

"That's a good idea," she said, resigned, staring at Determination like a ticking time bomb.

”Yeah. Yeah, it is. Y'know, Cal, I don't want to be scary. I'm being pretty nice right now, you get that, right? You're fucking with the feelings of... of the most important person in the world and I'm cutting you a lot of slack.” Determination took another drag from her cigarette. She almost forgot about it. ”Maybe you should get a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Eh? Plenty of fish in the sea, right? Plenty of fish that aren't fucking Marcus. Emma offered you some dating advice or something, right? Maybe you should follow that up. She's real good.”

Gritting her teath, Callan nodded again staring hard at Determination's shoes, "Right. Yeah, I'll do that...."

Determination sighed. ”Cal. I'm trying to have a friendly dialogue here, but I'm starting to think you're not really listening and it's really grating. I'm, like, a chill person. Real cool. I, uh, feel bad about sperging out on you. I'm trying to help you so I can help Emma. So we can help Emma. You want that, right?”

Callan looked up again, searching Determination's face for the hope that wasn't there. "I don't want to hurt Emma," she frowned, eyebrows knitting together. Her face contorted into a grimace. She meant that. She really meant that. But did she? Was this the kind of monster that she was? Scheming and biding her time and-- Callan lost her train of thought, face flushing when the imagery of Det's words hit again. Revived by the paranoia festering inside.

”Good. I believe you. That's why I came to you – you're a good friend, Cal. And you wouldn't want to hurt her. But what you're doing right now will hurt her once she finds out. She's got enough on her plate, so I want to avoid that. Which is why I got so mad and we're here now. Right? So let's reset. We're on the same team. The spearhead of Team Emma... so move out. Find someone else to have nasty thoughts about. Maybe you'll find out that you like girls or something, whatever. Just get over this thing with Marcus, okay?”

Callan squirmed uncomfortably at the term 'nasty thoughts', but nodded. "Y-yeah. I will," she answered, eyes darting from the floor to Det and back.

Determination's eyes narrowed.

Another thought crossed her mind. Something different.

”How much do you think Emma likes Marcus? Or loves, whatever. Not a trick question, promise.”

Callan stared in surprise, gears turning over what Det was trying to get her to say in spite of the disclaimer.

"I don't know," she frowned, "They're in love... aren't they?"

Enough for him to kill for her at least.

”Hmm. Think so? Well, whatever.” Determination threw the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. ”One more thing. Don't blame Emma for this, okay? She sure as hell wouldn't want this. I guess I'm kinda psycho. It's not her fault she can't control me, right?” her mouth twitched for a moment. The impression of her smirk but her face reverted to neutrality. ”I just want us all to be friends. You, me, Emma, Marcus, the whole funky bunch. Right?”

As usual, Callan was having a hard time following, but she nodded again, "Right." Her eyes followed the cigarrette as Det smashed it. How many had that been? Was she stuck in a time loop? Hell was a lot cooler than she thought it might be.

It wasn't like she could tell Emma about Det's episode... it was warranted anyway, wasn't it? No use bitching about it. Just suck it up. Move forward. She swallowed hard, looked back at Det. "'The whole funky bunch...'" she repeated, but things were never going to be the same. Not after today.

"By the by, I probably don't have to tell you this, but the Val thing is off the table. I'l take care of it, somehow. Unless you're gonna spill the beans to her?"

"I won't," Callan said, vaguely unsure of her resolve there. She still felt like Emma should hear it from people who cared about her, but... maybe that wasn't supposed to be her anymore. God, she was worse than garbage. Det would take care of it... and hopefully she'd do it right.

"Glad to hear it. Look, we can get along just fine now. As long as this Marcus thing is resolved, at least." Determination grinned, reaching into her pocket, producing the pack of cigarettes again. She pulled one out, placing it on the vent next to Callan, alongside a lighter. "Calms the nerves. In case you need it, y'know." Determination gave Cal a wink, and then poofed out of existence.

Callan stared at where the tulpa had once stood. Her stomch tied itself into a knot all over again and she glanced at the cigarette and lighter, staring at them as the tears eventually subsided and she headed back downstairs.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @Deathmyster@Baklava}

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𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 / / 𝔸 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / 𝟙𝟡𝟘𝟘

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Wish Granted

What's this? Who's that? Is that really who it is? Indeed, it is actually Grant, not holed up in his room for once, walking the sidewalks of the town. As usual, his hands occupy his pockets as he watches on ahead. His eyes lazily glance around at his surroundings, taking everything in. He wasn't sure just exactly what he was expecting to get out of stepping out of his room and exploring the town. Knowledge? An actual use of his funds? But why get any new stuff if what he already has was enough? Perhaps he needed spare clothing, just in case what he has isn't enough. Yes, that sounds fine.

Yawn. Pushing a door open and returning to the great indoors. A store to buy all your needs and wants. Not as good as the bedroom, but while he's out on the town, it'll do. Wandering around for the clothing section, he is ready to release another might yawn when- oh hey, she looks familiar. She's a classmate. Name. Think. Ah, Callan. Good, he remembered. Yet, the fact that she was so close means the best option would be to talk to her. He can hardly remember the last conversation they had, and he can imagine it wasn't good. She was the one from his first fight, after all. That was not a good time. Not at all. Time to move.

"Callan?" Grant asked. Yes, good start.

Callan had already gathered a good number of items in the shopping basket around her arm. Several packages of cup noodles, a bottle of hot sauce, a three pack of pizza-shaped erasers, purple gift bag paper, and a silver basket. She'd been drawn in by a large section boasting jewelry, earrings, bracelets, and a plethora of scarves. Lost in what might as well have been a life or death decision, she was staring adamantly at two around the time she heard her name.

That voice... she didn't recognize it at all. Lowering the two scarves, she turned to see Grant, of all people, standing there. Somehow, he never struck her as the type to be out on the town shopping. Not without someone to drag him there, at least. Her eyes darted to either side of him, as if searching for that someone.

"Uh... hey, Grant," she answered, thoroughly perplexed as her gaze finally settled on him.

Blink blink. He looks left and right when Callan had glanced to his sides before their gazes collided once more. Her confusion against his stoicity. Who will win? His gaze lowers to see the many items that she held in her basket before his eyes lifted again. She seemed to be doing well, for the most part. Though, having a bit of a handful right now. Oh, it was his turn to speak.

"How are you?" His hand raises out of his pocket in a wave with the question.

She turned to more fully face him. "I'm doin' alright. All things considered...," she draped one of the scarves over her arm and pushed an aquamarine curl behind her ear, nervously shifting her weight. Things hadn't changed since the Flag Football match. Every time she saw him, the memory of her senseless shouting echoed ominously through her head.

"Sh-she's fucking dead! And you just stood there and watched!"

She mentally winced. After what happened in Wisford, she only felt worse about it. Avoiding Grant had been painfully easy ever since that day. He'd seemed stand-offish before, but still. She couldn't help but wonder if she was to blame.

"You?"

It doesn't seem Grant held any malice or ill will toward the supergirl ever since they last talked. Then again, it's hard to tell what emotion was going through him with his tired face. Though, he is hoping to gain a better understanding with Callan. With the question thrown back at him, he seems to think for a moment before shrugging.

"I suppose I'm not bad. What is the occasion for all the items?" Again, his gaze shifts to the shopping basket in her hand as he approaches since he almost quite literally called to her from a bit away.

Not an answer that carried much confidence, but Grant was a hard read. So maybe he was fine? Thoughts drawn to the question, Callan held the basket up and glanced over the contents herself. "Uh... just some stuff for Emma," she shrugged, "No occasion."

Looking back down at the basket of all sorts of goods, he tilted his head in thought. Emma... Emma... Think, think... Then it popped in his head. He placed his fist into his palm as if suddenly getting an idea.

"Oh, scarf girl. Emma. Right. She seems to have a attachment to scarves." Grant returned his hands to his pockets as he lifted his head up to look at her again. "I was in town to take a look around and maybe buy some clothes for myself. It's really my first time casually coming to town, I think."

"Yeah. Scarf girl," Callan chuckled, "Pretty sure something happened to the one she had back at the estate, though. Since she hasn't worn it in a while...." As if to enunciate her point, she lifted the two scarves she'd been looking at. Eager to steer the topic away from their last impromptu battle, however, she continued.

"Kinda late for clothes shopping though, isn't it?" she said with a slightly concerned smile, "I've been in town a handful of times, but it seems like all the weirdos come out at night."

Grant tilted his head in a bit of confusion when Callan brought up the time. A glance toward the nearest window later and he looked back to the supergirl.

"Is it? I don't think I would know the perfect time to go shopping for clothes. And if any 'weirdo' were to come at me, I think I will be able to handle myself in such a situation."

"Oh, that's right," Callan grinned, averting her eyes, "I guess you could just grab some pants off the nearest rack and smother anyone who gets too close, huh?"

Blink blink. Oh, she was referring to the flag football game from a while ago. He wondered if she had any problem with him due to the nature he had dispatched her.

"Yes, that would be a way to deal with them and make sure they don't come back again." Grant said with a nod. He takes a moment to think... "I'm sorry for dealing with you that way during the flag football game, by the way. I was running out of options."

She forced a laugh. That was definitely a bad attempt at a joke on her part-- and not just because Grant didn't so much as chuckle.

"D-don't worry about it," she waved her hand, comparing the scarves again as an excuse not to show her face, "You gotta do what you gotta do. You guys won fair and square. Besides, that was a long time ago. I don't even remember it." Lies. She definitely remembered. It was one of those memories that made her want to cringe into the next century. But at least she could joke about it now.

"Was it really that long ago? I don't think it is something so easily forgotten." Grant said before giving a simple shrug. "But I just wanted to apologize about it in case there was any bad blood between us."

"Heh," she grimaced, finally choosing a scarf and folding it into her basket, "Well, it's fine. No bad blood. Promise."

Grant gave a nod while offering a very, very subtle smile. Barely noticeable, but it was still there. Looking back down at the basket, he thought for a bit.

"Do you need any help with your shopping?"

"Uh," she was taken off-guard by the offer, "Sure... I was just about to go grab some drinks." She pointed her thumb towards the back of the store.

Nod nod. Grant's hands slithered their way back into his jean pockets as he looked over to the direction of Callan's destination.

"Okay. I can help bring the drinks to the front in that case." The offer seemed sort of redundant, due to the girl he was trying to help out already have super strength, but at least he was offering. That should count toward something, right?

"Alright, sweet," she returned the other scarf to the hanger and led the way, eventually falling in step with Grant. Desperate to fill the strange silence, as always, Callan eventually piped up, "So Grant... where are you from?"

"Hmm." Was what came out of Grant at first as he appeared to think about the question at first. Almost as if strategizing his own words and how they would work out. It only took a few moments before he spoke up once again. "More north from here. New York." Left hand comes up and brushes his hair a bit with his fingers. "You?"

Even though it was only a moment's hesitation, Callan couldn't help but notice. Most people didn't need to think about where they came from. Did he not want to say or was Grant just... bizarrely forgetful? "Atlanta," she shrugged, "Born and raised."

"That sounds nice. How was it, down there for when you lived there?" Though his stoic, tired expression barely gave anything away, he seemed a bit quick to jump on the question for some reason. His head turned to look over at her nonetheless, returning his hand to his pocket.

"Uhm," Callan floundered for a moment. Had Grant always been this talkative? "It was nice, I guess. Kinda humid sometimes. Good neighborhood." She thought for a moment, "You know, I think Marcus and Emma are from up north, too. What part of New York are you from?"

Grant looked over at that question, again seeming to pause at the curiosity of his own life. It takes a moment before he looked back ahead and he answered. "Manhattan. I did not know that Marcus and Emma were from up north too. They are both from New York as well?" Once again, quick to latch onto a question regarding something other than him. Despite that, a smooth transition. Mostly.

There it was again...! Why did he keep pausing? Callan stared at up at him fixedly. "Yep... both of 'em," she squinted suspiciously for a second before looking away, "How was Manhattan?" It occurred to her a bit too late that Grant was probably trying to change the subject for a reason, but the question was already out.

He paused again, closing his eyes as he let them both walk a bit more distance. The answer came eventually, of course. ”Luxurious. Comfortable, I suppose. I had thought I would spend my life there, but I guess not. I am here now, after all.” This time, he didn’t bother to change the topic, as there we no way to do so in a clean manner.

Hard to read as ever, Callan tried her best to gauge what he'd said, but was coming up empty handed again. It didn't good, but Grant seemed largely unaffected by what he was saying. She quickly turned her attention back to the drinks up ahead. "Right. Sorry. We can change the subject if you'd like," she offered with a weak smile.

He looked over at her when she offered a chance of subject. It was a good out of the topic that he seemed to not be comfortable with. He didn’t answer for a bit again before he shook his head, looking back ahead. ”If you’d rather ask about me, I do not mind. I don’t guarantee a satisfying answer to everything, though.”

She gave a subdued chuckle, entirely caught out in her curiosity. "I don't want to stick my nose where it doesn't belong," she said as they finally reached the several rows of drinks, "I just don't know anything about you after all this time... Less than most anyway. I don't know if I've been going blind or you stay in your room 24/7 because it feels like I never see you."

She quickly thought twice about her assertion. Hadn't she been the one holing herself up for three weeks? Who was to say he hadn't been more social during that time. "Then again, I haven't gotten out much until recently, so what do I know, y'know?" she added flippantly, picking up three heavy boxes of energy drinks and tucking them under her arm as if they weighed no more than styrofoam.

Grant blinked when Callan would easily pick up three boxes of energy drinks, tilting his head at her words as well. ”No, you are mostly correct. I rarely leave my room at all. Some words from Brent made me want to go out and talk more with the classmates around me. I barely know much about you all other than your powers to a point.” He turned to look at her again. ”Did something trouble you to hide yourself in your room?”

"Uhm," Callan hesitated to respond, but kept filling her basket with as many of the boxes as would fit. Just as the strain on the handles seemed as though it might break, she quickly shifted her hold so that it was balanced in her hand. She did so easily, clearly thinking about the answer to Grant's question while she went through the motions. "You could say that," she finally settled on, "D.C. was a rough time for me, but I'm doing alright now." It wasn't in an effort to change the topic, but the simple revival of her curiosity that prompted the next question.

"I completely forgot Brent was your roommate," she hesitated again, briefly this time, "How is that, by the way?"

Grant watched the powered girl load up on boxes upon boxes of drinks, curious. Yet, his attention was temporarily shifted from one thin to another. He looked back up at her, thinking about her question. “He is amusing, I would say. He is also encouraging. Aside from that, I have not conversed too much with him, regrettably.” A quick break from the current topic, he points to the drinks. ”Do you need assistance with the drinks?

"'Amusing', huh...," Callan briefly mulled over the appropriateness of Grant's description. She really hadn't spent much time with Brent outside of that one day at the school gym and that night at the hospital, but... she supposed it worked. Reminded of Grant's offer to help, she quickly looked down at the drinks in her arms. She already had enough to last her a while, but... "Yeah, just, uh... grab another box for me, would you?"

At the request, Grant’s attention was fully on a box of energy drinks as a chain formed behind him. It moved to a box before making contact with it, easily pulled it up and into the air. He was very well aware of his lack of strength to lift up the box of his own, so he resorted to his power instead. ”That is all?”

Her mouth formed a small 'o' as her eyes followed the chain's movements. She looked between the chained box and the shelves, greedily considering the opportunity. "...How many can you carry?" she half-whispered in excitement.

Blink blink. He looked at the box on his chain already before looking back to the shelf holding all the boxes. ”Well, I have three chains in total, so I can carry three boxes if you’d like. Unless you would want me to uproot the entire shelf.” That was his own attempt at being humorous. At least, it was funny to him. He wasn’t sure how it would deliver, as his tone barely changed. Either way, he summoned the rest of his chains behind him, letting them sway from side to side.

"You can do that?" she looked the shelf over, almost as if she were really considering it for a moment. She laughed, shaking her head. No, that was an awful idea-- even if he'd only been joking. She quite liked this store and wasn't keen on getting thrown out any time soon. "How easily could you carry this?"

She held out the basket, teeming with the other objects she'd gathered as well as three boxes.

Grant had cracked another small smile at Callan’s laughter before her question. Looking at the full basket, it was intimidating to think about carrying it with only his bare hands. He tilted his head a bit before sending his remaining to chains to the basket, both taking hold of it. Unlike previous times with his power, it didn’t seem to bother him too much, despite the weight. His chains carried the basket with ease. ”Very easily, it seems.”

"Hmmm," Callan nodded approvingly, "Awesome-- then you hang on to that. And I'll..." With her her hands free of the basket, Callan began stacking more boxes into her arms. Two... four... six... eight... ten. The stack was a good foot or so above her head, but she didn't seem to be having any trouble. "Alright," she beamed, rotating her hips so she could walk and see, "Let's go check out."

As he let Callan go do whatever she was doing, Grant sorted out his chains and how they were carrying the basket and box. It wasn’t until she spoke up when he would look back over, and his eyes instantly went up to the stack of boxes that went higher than even her. His mouth was slightly agape in awe, looking back and forth between the stack and Callan herself. ”...Yes.” was all he could manage before he would begin walking to the front with her, although he stuck close, wondering if the stack was going to topple at any moment.

Customers and staff alike stayed far away from the subnatural pair, warily eyeing the tower of drinks with the very same concern. Already familiar with the store's layout, Callan nodded Grant towards one of the self-check out machines and placed the stack on the conveyor belt. She swiped everything through in a timely fashion, bagging what she could. Before she began handing things to Grant, however, she paused. "Didn't you have anything you needed to buy?" she asked, suddenly worried that she might have been severely inconveniencing him, "I'm gonna head back to my dorm now, but I can carry this stuff pretty easily now that it's bagged."

At the self-check out, he let her swipe her giant tower of energy drink boxes down before he would do the same with his box and the full basket. He waited for a bag to be held out to him, moving his chain to it before he stopped with her. At her words, it seems it takes a while to think. “Ah, right, I was going to buy clothes.” He said, hitting his palm with his fist, tilted his head. ”I do not mind assisting and getting clothes for myself some other time. It is a strange time for it, as you said, yes?”

The concern in her expression grew more severe, "Er... yeah. But... clothes are kind of important, aren't they?" She frowned, "Are you sure?"

He tilted his head the other way from her question, raising his brow only a bit. ”It is not like I am having a mass epidemic on clothing.” Fantastic humor.

"Well... alright," she handed him several bags, taking the bulk of it in her arms again, "Let's get going then!"

Grant blinked when she suddenly thrusted several bags into his arms. His limbs shook, struggling to carry the bags of mostly energy drinks. His brows furrowed as he instantly connected his chains to the bags, freeing him from the weight. Breath out. Collecting himself again, he gave a nod to Callan so they can get a move on once again. Just as in the store, the regulars outside gave the two arbiters a wide berth. If Callan was at all bothered, she hid it well, waiting until they were at the bus stop before speaking again.

"Aw, geez," she set the stack down again, pulling out her phone to check the time, "We just missed it-- sorry." She sat down with sigh. The next bus would come by soon enough, but she was already feeling like a major thorn in Grant's side. Even if he was the one to offer-- that neutral expression of his played more in favor of her doubts than optimism.

He merely stood where he was, the bags swaying around in the air as he turned to look over at her. Head tilt and glance off to the side, as if thinking. "You do not really have to be sorry about that. It is only a little unfortunate. But I suppose I need more fresh air, after all." What's this? Grant's attempt at trying to actually comfort Callan? He looked back to the road, brushing through his incredibly messy bedhead with his fingers. "It's okay, I'm saying.

"Hmm." She didn't sound convinced. In fact, her mind had been drifting towards other, more 'unfortunate'problems. Some silence passed again, with Callan's eyes darting between her phone and the perpetually tired looking mage. Clearly she wanted to say something but... that was a long time ago. Dredging up the past might not be the best idea. She had no idea how Grant had managed to deal with Padma's death after that first fight. She'd tried to apologize, but that was it. That was all she'd done. "Grant," she said, getting his attention. She hesitated again before continuing, "Uh... so what sort of stuff do you like to do?"

Not really the sort of thing she typically asked classmates, but it was better than her original question.

Attention caught. Grant's head turned back to the girl, blinking slowly at her hesitation to ask such a simple question. He thought on that a bit, his gaze locked on her. He decided to answer her first, his eyes shifting up to the sky. "I do not really do much stuff in general. I guess sleeping would fit that the most, but I wouldn't say that's exactly 'doing' something." He took a moment to pause and let her process his answer before he spoke again.

"So what did you actually want to ask me?"

Just sleep? Maybe she could sympathize with that a little. Sleep was pretty great after all. Then again, maybe he just didn't feel like sharing his hobbies with someone like her.

"Oh. Uh...," she tensed at the sudden question. Think of something else. Something else. ...But no ideas came. Not quickly enough anyway. "It's nothing!" she lied poorly.

"I doubt it is nothing if you are making such a big deal about it. Your panic at me mentioning it is written all over your face." He tilted his head the other way, looking at her, his face unchanging from its tired state. "I would appreciate it if you just told me.

Callan bit her lip, gripping her phone tightly. She certainly couldn't try and come up with an excuse when he put it that way. Resigned to her fate, she sighed. "Okay...." He asked for it, right?

"I was wondering... if you're... if you, uhm..." Say it already! She smiled incredulously, "Why are you talking to me?"

Blink blink. Blink blink. He looked ahead at the road, then back at her, as if trying to think of an answer for that. Honestly, he was still suspicious, yet her question equally seemed to take him off guard. Grant was silent for quite some time before he finally spoke up again. ".....Why not? Is there a reason not to?"

Callan scoffed, shaking her head at him. Was he joking? "That first fight we had after we got here..." she folded her arms tightly across her chest, "I was really horrible. Yelled at you in front of everyone." A pause, watching him carefully. "She was your roommate... wasn't she?"

He blinked at the sudden mention of... Her. His gaze turned down to the ground, tensing up a bit. Breath in. Breath out. He gave a small shrug. "She was supposed to be. We only really spent one day and one night in the same room, I believe. Even so, she protected me when I was supposed to be the one who died that day. If it weren't for my panic, she would still be alive today." His eyes closed, thinking to himself. "I should have accepted that offer to run with her. If I had known that was the last we would be able to speak.

"No-- nobody should have died that day," Callan leaned forward on the bench, "And I shouldn't have put the blame on you. It was..." Just like Marcus said. "Nobody's fault."

"I'm sorry if I'm the one that made you feel that way," she frowned, taking another breath, "None of us had ever fought monsters before. We did the best we could under the circumstances."

His shoulders tensed up more at her words and he shook his head and shut his eyes. "It was my fault!" Emotion suddenly fills his voice. His chains falter a bit, drooping before they raise back up again, swaying in a faster rhythm. "I was a coward that day. I couldn't move. My body failed me and I failed Padma. I failed her. Because of me and my lack of ability to get my shit together, she died!" Heavy breaths left Grant as he recovered from his sudden outburst. His head turned away from Callan, silent.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice."

Startled by the sudden contrast in Grant's demeanor, Callan gripped her phone a little too tight. Quietly, the screen cracked. Her grip only tightened as he continued, a few small bits of glass and chipped plastic collecting in her palm. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Leaving behind only regret.

She glanced down at the broken device, her thoughts far away from the inconvenience of needed to pick up a new one later. "I know how you feel," she said after a moment, closing her eyes as she slipped the phone into her pocket.

Grant took a moment to calm himself, brushing through his hair again. It took a bit before he looked over at her, his usual expression back on his face. His chains slowed their sway as well. "How so?" he asked, his tone having a more quiet volume than before.

Callan quickly averted her eyes the moment he looked at her. Bringing up the past had turned out even worse than she though it would. His question was only fair, "I mean I've gotten people killed. Tried to save them, but I couldn't..." She looked up at the sky, "It sucks, but... you can't focus on all the stuff you didn't do. Or at least you shouldn't. We do what we can and that has to be enough."

She looked back at him, "You have to make it enough. Or else you shut down... that's how it is for me anyway." Callan swung her feet, thinking for a moment, "I never forget... and the pain is still there sometimes... but it helps me keep moving."

Grant focused on the words that came from the supergirl. Of course, they were correct. Not to focus on what he didn't do, yet it was still hard for him. He let out a breath, closing his eyes in thought. "I understand... I am trying to use what Padma gave me to better myself. But I have only started now. I suppose that would be disappointing to see." He looked back to Callan, continuing to speak, "It is because of that first fight that I've realized that I cannot be scared. That I need to act or someone else close to me may die. It is also why I am talking to you."

"Me?" She gave him a wary smile. Had he been planning on bringing this up all along? Taking a page from Brent's book? At least she got a chance to speak her piece this time.

He gave a small shrug to her questioning response. "Well, I am trying to speak more to my classmates in general. It just so happens that you were nearby at the time. To be able to talk about what had happened in the first battle with someone who fought with me is admittedly... relieving," Grant said, smiling a very subtle smile once more. "So I am thankful for that."

Her smiled widened, genuinely relieved herself to hear that he hadn't been hunting her down just to tell her off for her misplaced anger that day. "Hey, any time," she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, "And... again, I really am sorry for yelling at you."

Grant exhaled through his nose, sounding like a chuckle. He shook his head and gave a simple wave of his hand. "You do not have to be sorry about that. It was warranted for the time. Let's not let that hang between us."

"Hmm... alright. If you say so," Callan shrugged. 'Warranted'. It didn't seem as though she'd fully convinced him. But if he was anything like herself, it seemed unlikely words alone ever would. Just then, the bus came rolling up the road, stopping in front of them. By some stroke of luck, it didn't seem anyone was interested in going anywhere on a Monday night. Picking up half of the stack of sodas, Callan loaded them into the second seat on the bus, vaguely aware of the looks she was getting from the driver. Wanting to keep an eye on her things, Callan took a seat near the front, stretching her legs across a whole row of seats as she waited for Grant.

Entering the bus, he probably looked just as weird with his chains bringing the bags into the bus, if not more. He set them down with the rest before making his way to a seat near her, taking it. With most of what was to say out of the way, the bus ride back was particularly quiet between the two. It even seemed like Grant easily fell asleep on the way back. After not too long of a bus ride back, they unloaded their things and themselves out of the bus where they moved to the dorms.

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @Deathmyster@Baklava@PapiTan}

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𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝟜𝟛𝟘 / / 𝟚𝟘𝟛𝟘

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Pure Therapy

In front of Callan's room, he looked over at her. "I suppose this is where we part ways," he said, his chains beginning to lower the bags.

"I suppose so!" Callan sighed, setting all of her boxes onto the floor. She'd have to find a place for it all after her left. Maybe under the bed.... "Thanks again for helping."

Grant set the bags that he had been helping carry onto the floor next to all the boxes that Callan carried. His chains quickly retracted behind him, vanishing out of sight. "You're welcome," he replied with a nod. "I'll be off, then," he said, pointing back to the door leading back into the hall.

Clickclackclackclackclick!

A blur of brown fur darted from the bedroom at a startling speed for something as small as it was. Chief Tater Tot, in all his canine glory, dashed directly for the unfamiliar presence, eagerly bounding up to Grant, enthusiastically sniffing around the boy, tail wagging as though he'd discovered the newest best thing. Finding satisfaction with his identification ritual, the dog punctuated an excitable look with a bark.

Said bark seemed to be enough to summon the dog's owner.

"Tater Tot, you know that--oh!" A familiar face. Grant? Grant. That was the correct name...right? Siena offered a nervous attempt at a smile. "H-hey, sorry about him."

Just as Grant was turning to leave, he heard a... peculiar sound. Turning to said noise, he was a bit startled to see a small animal quickly rush him. This was it. This was... oh, it was only sniffing him. Grant seemed to just be staring down at the dog, his mouth a bit ajar, watching its excited exploits. His gaze turned up toward the new voice. Oh, he knew him. It was... her name... it... it was an S, that was for sure... oh, Siena. Right? Right. He looked back and forth between the dog and its owner a few times before his eyes finally settled on her. That's when he pointed down to the dog.

"May I pet him?" He asked, almost as if a twinkle just appeared in his usually expressionless eyes.

"Of course. He loves the attention." Siena's smile drifted from nervous to warm, a controlled shift of expression. The girl's mind churned, dredging up memories of recent events, of their first combat experience, and she pushed them away. Not important. "I think he likes you too." The Arbiter motioned toward the dog, the canine's gaze looking up as though expecting exactly what Grant had requested.

At the confirmation for him to pet the dog, he knelt down, his hands beginning. It has only begun. His double hand petting technique. It looked like he was even smiling a bit again as he gave the dog just what it expected. "He is nice," he stated, trying to pet all sorts of spots all over the dog. Pet pet pet. "I am sorry for the intrusion... Tater Tot, you said his name was?" he inquired, yet his gaze and attention was completely set on the brown canine.

Callan smiled at the sight, picking up a few boxes and setting them on the kitchen counter. It'd been a while since she'd seen anyone so happy to pet a dog. Captivated by the beginning of Grant's silly conversation, she watched on.

'Ah...'

It was hard to believe that the boy petting Tater Tot was the same one that she'd fought alongside with their second night at the facility. The same one that had told her to be prepared to kill if hostile subnaturals appeared in Wisford. Siena felt the smile grow a little warmer despite herself.

"Chief Tater Tot, according to the papers he came with," Siena replied. The dog gave a small sound of approval, evidently pleased by the amount of attention he was receiving. His tail continued to wag like a motor as he tried to return the affection the only way a dog knew how--sloppy licks on anything that his tongue could reach.

D'aw. D'AW. The dog's tongue lapped sloppily at Grant's hands as he pet relentlessly. No mercy. He nodded at Siena's words, his smile growing a bit more as he kept petting the canine. "Such a peculiar name. Yet... fitting," he commented, rub rub all over the animal. Will it ever end? Probably not any time soon. "Hmm... do you like this spot?... He mumbled out as he continued to pet and experiment with many strategies. Behind the ear? Maybe his stomach. "Oh... perhaps here..."

Tater Tot panted eagerly, rolling onto his back to expose his belly, one leg twitching as Grant managed to scratch a particular spot, tongue lolling out as he reveled in the moment. Clearly, he was in doggy paradise--almost.

Siena dared a glance toward her roommate, the smile on her face more than enough to relay an unspoken message. How unbelievably precious.

"Would you like to give him a treat?"

Oh. The dog was now on his back. Grant has noted where he needed to pet. The weak spot. This was it. This was the moment. This pet was the pet that will pierce the heavens. Here it comes. MAXIMUM-

"Treat?" Grant let out, snapping out from his trance, looking back up at the owner of the dog. His hand moved over to the spot that Tater Tot seemed to really like, scratching away lightly at it. "Yes.. yes, that sounds nice... may I?" he asked, continuing to pet away at the dog.

Callan's smile widened at the suggestion. She eagerly dashed towards cupboard where they kept the treats. "Here," she opened the box and held it out for Grant.

Grant blinked as he looked up at Callan who bestowed upon him a box of treats. His hand came up with a subtle nod, taking one from the box, his other hand still petting Tater Tot. "...Thank you," he said before looking back down at the dog, taking his petting hand away and now holding the treat up for the canine to take. "Here you go, Tater Tot..."

Treat!

Tater Tot smelled the delicacies before he saw them, and he rolled eagerly back to an upright position as he watched new humans person take one from the special box. The dog's tail wagged with even greater enthusiasm, expression alight with a bright joy. Treat! Treat! The dog stood on his hind legs, front paws up as though about to embrace the hand with the treat. When his balance faltered, Tater Tot performed a quick spin, falling back onto all four paws before returning to carefully--as carefully as a dog could manage it, at least--take the proffered treat. Treat!

Clearly, it was a day of celebration.

Did it just?

Oh lord, it just. Grant watched as the bright canine roll back to his front and try to take the treat. Yet, he did a spin. A spin. That was reason enough to give the dog a treat if ever. He lowered his hand for Tater Tot to take the treat and enjoy it. Once the treat was taken, his hand dropped to the dog's neck to begin petting and scratching away. "Good boy..." Grant can't help but chuckle a bit as he returned to petting.

Siena couldn't help but grin to herself. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Tater Tot seemed to be relishing the attention too, completely at ease. Maybe her initial judgements on Grant were off the mark. That was...nice, surprisingly enough. It wasn't often that things turned out better than her first assumptions in recent times.

"He really seems to like you," Siena claimed with a soft chuckle. "You know, if you ever want to come by and visit, I'm sure Tater Tot would enjoy the company." Ah, wait. Her gaze darted back to Callan. "E-er, if...if you guys don't mind, of course."

It took a second before Callan was able to tear herself away from the sight of Grant and Tater Tot, glancing at Siena with a thoroughly amused look in her eye, "No, I don't mind at all." She looked back at Grant, "Seriously, come over any time. Chief's in freaking paradise right now." She laughed.

As if to punctuate the claim, Tater Tot gave an eager bark.

Grant blinked at the sudden offer. He lifted his head to look at the two in the room, his hand on autopilot as he pet Tater Tot. He looked back down at the dog, bringing his free finger up to his own cheek and scratching it. He seemed to think once again, watching the dog... "...I suppose if you truly don't mind, I might take you up on that offer," he stated as he brought his hand to the dog's belly once again to find his weak spot.

"Here, give me your phone and I'll put my number in," Callan chuckled, holding her hand out.

The boy looked up from the dog that he was currently assaulting with his pets, staring at Callan's hand. It took a few moments before his gaze shifted up to her. "I don't have a phone."

He...what?

"Oh, um..." That made things a bit harder. Grey eyes flicked over to Callan, then to Grant, mind churning for a few minutes before a possible solution presented itself--aside from the obvious need to somehow provide Grant with a phone. "Do you have a roommate? Maybe we can work through them for a bit."

Grant's head tilted after Siena's suggestion, thinking to himself. His hands continued to move automatically, shifting his knee to keep it in a comfortable position. "I have Brent as a roommate, if you know who he is," he eventually answered.

One blink. Two.

"'Know' is putting it a bit lightly..." Well, that was quite a convenient coincidence. Apparently she wasn't going to get away from her fellow role-filler, though at least it provided an easy option. "He has my number, so we can work through him for now."

Grant watched her, curious as to what she meant by her first statement. Even after she explained what they could do, he stared at her. It took a bit but he nodded eventually. ”Okay. That sounds fine,” he stated, looking down at Tater Tot, halting his pets. He gave a pat to his head before standing up. ”Then I guess I shouldn’t overstay my welcome.”

"I'm gonna head out in a bit," Callan said, almost regretful. She glanced at Siena, deferring to her, "But I mean...?"

"I don't mind if you want to stay longer," Siena smiled. "I didn't have plans to head out anytime soon."

He blinked, reaching up and lightly scratching his cheek as he looked back down at the dog once more. He shrugged subtly, looking back up at Siena. "I do not have any other things to do either. I suppose staying longer would not hurt," Grant said, kneeling down and continuing the now nonstop petting.

"Aaalright, then," Callan finished putting all the boxes of drinks in their proper place under her bed. Grabbing her bag, she said her goodbyes and headed off for Ground Zero.

Texts

yo did Grant go home yet?

Yeah, after a while. Tater Tot was sad to see him go.

LOL poor puppy. least he made a new friend

I think we might have an honorary fourth suite member now!

haha I think you're right

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @Lasrever@Baklava}

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𝕄𝕠𝕟: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟚𝟚𝟛𝟘

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Empty Encouragement

Even compared to her usual stints in Ground Zero, Zoe was painfully exhausted. Having to speak with Chris had delayed everything, and now it was a whole lot later than she was used to. She'd figured she could just forego recovery time and make her way back, but turned out a completely fresh injury was even more of a pain than it had been when she'd taken a couple hours to deal with it. So here she was, sat on a pile of debris not too far from the entrance as she waited to feel like she could make the journey back to the dorms.

The lateness didn't bother her, really - wasn't too long a walk back to the dorms anyway, and she'd had more than enough time to make sure things were still bandaged up. Wasn't like she'd been trying to get much sleep this week even when she did get back on time. As it was, the aberration figured she wouldn't need that much longer before she could make her way back to the room, but for now it seemed best to sit back and wait.

One mistep away from walking right past Zoe and suddenly Callan found herself hiding behind a nearby building, running at least five different scenarios through her head. All based around what mood Zoe might be in and how an impromptu chat might go. It wasn't good form-- asking someone to have your back in case you ever lose control of your ability and then angrily trying to lecture that person the moment they have the same problem. In front of everyone, no less. It was bad enough she originally planned on completely avoiding Zoe. Forever, if possible.

But now that she was here, it felt like more of a sign. She couldn't keep pretending like nothing happened. Niether of them could. Callan took a deep breath.

Meekly, she stepped out into plain sight, lowering her hood and approaching, though she was sure to keep a relatively safe distance. "Hey Zoe," she piped up, her eyes flickered to a small trail of smoke was rising from the side of her shirt. A nervous grin wormed it's way across her mouth, "Didn't expect to see you here so late."

"Guess I got delayed today." Zoe cut off her ability almost immediately as Callan spoke, trying to ignore the discomfort of trusting the task to her sub-par bandaging skills. She was more resigned than hostile, frowning in anticipation of a lecture that would probably be deserved - if unlikely to be anything she didn't already know. With a sigh, she raised her head to look at the other girl. "...so, you need something?"

Callan stepped a bit closer, twiddling anxious fingers inside the pocket of her hoodie. "Well... no, not really..." she said, noncommittal, "but can we talk?"

Zoe looked slightly surprised at that, but shrugged. "If you want. I'm not going anywhere."

She took a seat a a good couple of feet away, dropping her duffel at her feet. Clearing her throat, Callan drummed her fingers across her knees, pursing her lips tightly as she tried to recollect her thoughts. She hadn't thought she'd make it this far.

"How've been?" Callan asked.

How she'd been? Zoe wasn't sure how to answer that question. Telling the truth about that... seemed like a little much to reveal to someone that had every reason to hate her guts. That, and her issues weren't anyone else's problem to worry about. After a moment she settled on being as honest as felt comfortable, which ended up being a bit of a non-answer.

"As well as I could expect, I guess. How about you? After..." She frowned. "You know. Everything."

"I'm alright," Callan sighed, "And Kusari's..." She'd told her up front that she couldn't get over it. And it seemed unlikely that either of them would seek each other out for a nice chat any time soon. But Callan didn't want to make Zoe feel worse than she already did. That wasn't why she was here. "Coping," she finished, "But she's alive. So... you know. I'm okay."

Zoe, of course, hadn't asked about how the immortal was doing, but she thought it best to get that out of the way first. Callan wasn't about to try and bite her head off about it again, at least.

"Right." Zoe's frown deepened. Kusari-- she'd given her every warning, and not one had been taken seriously, but she knew the girl still didn't deserve that. Still, the memory was fresh, and her expression twisted in disgust as she thought it over. Words escaped almost without her realising, before she could think them over. "I wish I could take it back, for what that's worth. Everything I've..." She trailed off, looking at the floor.

Callan was silent for a moment. She thought she felt she could relate. Just a little. The gutted carcass of her old house came to mind. And that news article Dom sent her-- one in critical condition. But still. She'd never actually killed anyone herself... besides that Amigo at Bald Head. But that was entirely self defence. Different... right?

"It's okay," Callan attempted to reassure her, "I mean, probably would've been better if it didn't happen, but... uh... I don't want to speak for Kusari." She idly pushed a small piece of debris down the pile with her shoe. "I'm actually here because I wanted to say sorry. I lost my cool back there.... Completely threw you under the bus."

"I lost it completely. I've hurt you guys before, and it keeps getting worse. That's not okay." Zoe shook her head. She appreciated what Callan was trying to do, but she didn't feel like being forgiven for actions she'd probably end up repeating.

Still, it was odd. Kind of hurt, almost, to have someone else seeking her out to make an apology. Even - well, especially an undeserved one. She wasn't sure how to deal with the idea of anyone giving enough of a damn for that; although she was well aware that it probably came from Callan being soft-hearted and naive as all hell. Raising her head, she smiled drily. "Nice of you to say, but you've got nothing to be sorry for. I more than deserved it."

'Not okay'. Zoe had a point. Callan was still plenty aware of the dangers involved, but... she'd told her about Misery because she felt like she could trust her. That or she wanted to feel like she could... either way, there was something about Zoe that Callan found worth admiring. Not that she'd ever admit as much. "Well... I was just thinkin'... I asked you to watch my back. In a sense. But our agreement back at the island... wasn't very balanced, you know?" she felt uncertain about where she was going with this, but it felt like the right direction, "So, uh... maybe I could help you out somehow. If something like that ever happens again?"

She thought for a moment.

"Maybe we could carry around, like, a cow or something!" she suggested, apparently too caught up with the sudden idea to acknowledge its ludicrousy, "PETA would have a fit, but I could totally do that. It'd be easy to carry!"

Zoe was silent for a long moment as she absorbed what Callan had just said. And then a longer moment after that as she tried to keep a straight face and figure out a reply. "Yeah, well--" Despite herself, the aberration burst into genuine laughter - though she brought it quickly under control. "If you think you can get permission to cart a farm around, be my guest. I'd love to see what they name you."

It had been a while since she'd laughed properly, hadn't it? At least since the laugh had been all her, not some rabid thing that came in as a replacement. Looking back to Cal, she seemed at least a little more relaxed than before. "Seriously though, I don't think there's much you can do for me. No need to try and balance it out."

That's right, Callan hadn't been granted any sort of media nickname yet. More than the inconvenience of lugging around a cart full of animals, however, the thought of forever being known to the world based off of that made her grimace. "There's gotta be something...," she frowned, "We're both on the same team, you know. And what I asked you to do... it wasn't exactly a small thing to promise."

Zoe scowled, trying to find the right words."Told you, didn't I? That I know what it's like to be scared. That's enough." And that she wasn't the only person she'd tried to kill for it.

"Just try and make sure it won't come to that, alright?" She didn't need to see Callan's death when she closed her eyes.

Callan made a sound in her throat, voicing her discontent. Zoe wasn't one of those people she felt confident pushing, but at least she could say that she tried.

"Alright," she submitted, "I can try and manage that, I guess."

"...why d'you even care, anyway? I mean, I almost murdered your friend, took your arm off, and promised to kill you." Zoe looked at her curiously. "You've got plenty of reason not to give a damn about me."

A short sigh. Followed by an equally short silence. She was afraid this sort of question might pop up... but she didn't see much of a way around it.

"Because..." Callan met Zoe's gaze for only a moment before looking forward again, "We're both on the same team. Like I said... And whether I like it or not, you're a really strong part of it. 'The worst of us by a long shot'... I think is what you said."

She flashed Zoe an uncertain smile, "You took out most of those rogues in Wisford. Made it look damn easy, too.... Then you helped take out the baddies in D.C... And in the last fight you helped keep those tree things off our backs and then went ahead and captured one of the Amigos-- alive. And you did it all by yourself."

She propped her head up on one elbow, kicking more bits of debris down the pile, "Took like four of us just to take down that monster guy with the claws...."

Somewhere along the line, it seemed like she'd lost the point she was trying to make. Best case scenario, Zoe understood that Callan thought she was a key part of the team. Worst case....

Callan nervously scratched her cheek with her free hand, trying to hide the uncomfortable smile that was cropping up. She admired her. That wasn't to say she didn't disagree with some of Zoe's beliefs... beliefs which, now that she thought of it, reminded her an awful lot of Kusari, but...that was just the way it was. Zoe seemed to accomplish so much during their fights. A pillar of confidence and knowing exactly what the fuck to do.

Zoe was quiet for a long moment as she thought the answer over. It was true what Cal was saying, the way she saw it. The redhead had pretty much always considered herself one of their most effective people on the battlefield. It just didn't seem to cancel anything else out; being really good at killing people wasn't much of a redeeming quality, all things considered. Regardless, part of her appreciated it.

Although 'strong' was the last word she'd use to describe herself these days.

"Yeah, well," she looked at Cal with a slight grin, "can't go picking fights all your life without getting kinda good at it. Least I've got powers to help me out now." And she'd been able to save them for the most part when she was there to. Save them from everything that wasn't her, anyway. Problem was that she felt like more of a danger than their enemies sometimes.

"I'm kind of a shitty person to be praising, but... thanks, I guess."

"Heh," Callan grabbed her bag and stood up, brushing the dust off her pants, "I'm just sayin. If you can do all that... you can beat this. At least... I think you can." Emma and Ernie didn't seem to be having quite as hard a time, but everyone's stigma was different... wasn't that right?

She shrugged, finally looking back at Zoe again, "I don't want to pretend like I know you that well or anything... just... I'm here if you need help. That's all."

Beat this? Zoe couldn't find herself sharing in the optimism, but she didn't feel like arguing with someone else today. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll try and remember you're around." A week ago, she wouldn't have considered help - and even now, she wasn't sure. But trying to do this alone wasn't working anymore, and she couldn't even get herself killed without catching someone else in the crossfire. It was worth considering, if nothing else.

Of course, seeing Callan get up reminded her she was running out of time. Gritting her teeth, Zoe forced herself to her feet with a grunt, shooting her classmate a strained smile. "Should probably get going, though. Don't think they'll like it if I'm out past curfew."

"Yeah," Callan agreed, noting the expression. Did she hurt herself? She wondered about the smoke she'd seen earlier, but didn't even think to ask about it. If she needed help, she could tell her so. Otherwise, Callan was content with the apology and having made the offer known.

"Guess I'll head back, too," Callan lied, her voice an octave too high. She hopped off the pile of debris, further than any normal person could have ever managed so casually, hoping to get a headstart so she could hide out somewhere and come back for her night training. It did occur to her that Zoe was one of the few people she didn't need to hide that from, but they were teammates. Not friends. And she preferred to keep her private sessions on a need to know basis.

"I'll see you around," she waved politely. And with that, she left.

_{ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 / / @GreenGoat@Baklava}

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𝕋𝕦𝕖𝕤: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟙𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠 / / 𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟘

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Will You Train With Me?

She stretched out her hands, grasping towards the stars in the dark sky. Tentatively Hazel had removed her collar, feeling somehow odd ever since she got off that island. Now that she was back here in Ground Zero, she finally figured out what it was. That scratching feeling, that heavy weight pressing into her head at the back, the feeling of tiny hands grasping at her mind weighting it down, all of it felt so very far now.

It felt odd, dangerous, but somehow more... exciting without the collar on. Hazel could try to search for more words to describe that odd mixture of exhiliriation and utter panic that seemed to flutter in her bosom, but she would much rather try to figure out her rapidly evolving abilities more. All thoughts of invincibility with the armor upgrade she gained had fled from her mind upon that single demon tearing through her projections like nothing. And certainly trying to defend herself with her projections seemed suicidal now that she knew how much damage could be transfered from it to her. Then what could she do? Hazel had been puzzling over that, considering the others survived much longer than she did, as well as doing much more. Project a weapon, they break it, she gets injured. Project armor, they break it, she gets injured. What did they have that she didn't?

There was an unfamiliar feeling swirling around now, one she did not recognize, but it feels irritating and odd.

On the other side of a large brick wall, Callan readjusted her headphones one last time before summoning her weapon. A sword styled like a katana, but far bigger. She could only admire it for a second before it got too heavy and she was forced to let it rest on the ground. She still had a few hours before her plans with Sander and figured there was nothing wrong with getting a little training in as long as she was awake. Her mind still felt thick with thoughts since her talk with Ernie the other day, so she did her best to focus on the lyrics.

"We wasn't supposed to make it past 25. Jokes on you we still alive," Callan sang under her breath, skipping few words here and there each time she sliced through a mail box or street sign. She continued in blissful ignorance, completely unaware of Hazel being nearby.

Hearing a voice singing, Hazel ignored it before realizing it wasn't a voice that echoed in her head as usual. Someone else was actually here? Forgetting all about her collar for the moment, she skipped around the brick wall, before seeing someone swinging a large sword around. That hair, she recognized it as belonging to Callan, but she had no idea she could project items as well. It was similar to what Hazel did, but also different, and interesting, and odd because of that.

"I see. You have the ability to project weapons as well," she spoke suddenly. "Are you here to train?"

Hazel was lucky she caught Callan in between songs or else she might not have heard her. Callan, on the other hand, jumped so badly that the katana flopped right out of her grasp, dissipating into smoky tendrils that were quickly absorbed by her shadow. Getting caught in the middle of singing was already enough to fluster her pretty badly. The fact that it was Hazel of all people only made matters worse.

Callan turned and stared, something between a glare and curiousity fixed on her face for a good several seconds before she finally responded. "Yes," she answered curtly, resummoning her sword.

"Then, will you train with me?"

It was an opportunity in her mind. That shadowy construct reminded her of that demon, that thing that tore through her and her newly acquired ability like it was nothing. The unknown feeling rose up again upon the mere thought of that happening, bubbling and barely kept in check. Training with another was something she had not the chance to do much, if at all. Fighting with another one of them was apparently what she did once that cloud haze clawed into her head, but all she wanted now was someone to fight against, someone to train with.

There was an intense look on her face as she projected an armored gauntlet holding a sword as well as another arm holding a shield, her hands dissappearing from the wrist up.

Callan narrowed her eyes. There was something about Hazel that really creeped her out. Even if she used to be Emma's roommate, it was just one of those feelings she couldn't shake. Of course, D.C. hadn't helped that much either. She didn't even need to think about it-- but she wasn't given the chance to answer right away.

Almost immediately, the girl activated her ability. Her skin crawled at the sight, amethyst eyes darting upwards at the looming projections. She gripped her sword a little tighter and swallowed.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said plainly, still keeping her guard up in case Hazel randomly snapped. Still facing the 'armed' aberration, she glanced around to see if anyone was with her. Anyone who could potentially intervene if things went south.

"Why?" Hazel was genuinely curious. "I have concluded that simply tearing through helpless shadows and inanimate objects will not allow my abilities to progress further. By the same reasoning, it will not help yours as well."

She advanced slightly, getting better footing. The shield swung around to cover her front, as the sword moved closer towards the shield. A larger projection with only part of her body, one that does not contain vital organs. It was a simple test she was running in Ground Zero, to see how much she can do without exposing herself to danger.

"Do not worry. I will be sure to hold back."

Callan took a hasty step back, pulling her headphones down around her neck. She grimaced, furrowing her brow at not only Hazel's logic, but her offer to hold back. Even though she knew Hazel was strong, it felt weirdly insulting. Being made out to be less capable than a psycho girl in a maid's uniform.

"Because you don't know how to control yourself," she said matter-of-factly, trying to reason. She gripped her shadow katana even tighter. Hazel was making her nervous. Really nervous.

"Is that so?" Hazel tilted her head slightly. "I have felt much better than I had ever been before recently."

As if to accentuate her point, she stopped her projections and pointed at her neck, where the black mark sat in contrast to her pale skin. Her collar was off, and she did not feel as bad as she thought she would. It felt even less than it was before WITH the collar on. It was odd that the concept of control came up again, however, considering her last talk with Sienna. Humming an unknown tune to herself, she jumped onto a wall, walking haphazardly upon it before sitting down upon a pillar.

"Are you afraid?" She asked.

It was the same question she had asked of Sienna, wondering if Callan too was afraid of her own abilities.

Her posture relaxed the moment the projections faded away. She waited for a moment, finally figuring it was safe to dispel her own weapon once Hazel sat down.

"No," Callan answered a little too prematurely. It was a fair question. One she hadn't expected Hazel to be astute enough to ask. But for the record-- yes. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she was a little afraid.

"I'm concerned," she said instead. "Not that I don't want to believe you're feeling better, but I'd rather we not repeat what happened back in Washington."

"Washington," Hazel repeated. "What happened in Washington?"

She started swinging her feet, her shoes making a dull thud every time it hit the concrete pillar she sat on. She wanted to do something more interesting than this, but it can't be helped that Callan didn't seem to be in any mood to train with her.

"Why do you look so tense?"

It wasn't any sort of amazing observational skill on Hazel's part; it was simply the way Callan seemed a bit antsy, impatient, as if she was expecting battle very soon. Fear, apprehension, feelings she was very familiar with.

Callan gawked. She didn't know? Or did she just want her to say it out loud..?

No, that had to be her competitive side creeping out where it shouldn't be. Though it was tempting to keep Hazel in the dark, Callan ultimately sighed. Two questions, one answer.

"You attacked me," she smiled, trying to reassure her that there were no ill feelings. Of course, it was frustrating... but they were still teammates. And that was a long time ago. Callan knew as well as anyone how much a person can change in a week, let alone three. "Beat me up pretty good, too...," she chuckled, scratching her cheek and averting her eyes.

"Ah," Hazel spoke nonchalantly. "All I remember was taking off the collar and going off alone to fight an ice giant. I was so certain I would die in that battle."

She looked towards the dark night's sky still swining her feet against the pillar, wondering when the stars looked that pretty.

"I had not accounted for another also going up against it. I had assumed everyone would retreat, considering there wasn't any real reason for anyone to stay and fight. ...but then why did I stay and fight?"

That last part was spoken more to herself as she frowned slightly. She had felt her blood boil, and had wanted to fight, to destroy, to tear down that magnificent symbol of power. But there was no order to engage, nor was there any reason for her to feel threathened enough from it to fight it.

Shaking off that thought, she turned back to Callan. "Then, you are afraid of training with me, because you are afraid of losing again?"

Had Hazel been on a suicide mission? All alone? And what did she mean there was no 'real reason' to fight? Callan opened her mouth to say something, but then... that question.

She smiled defeatedly, "Uhh..." Telling someone she barely knew about Misery just to save face would be a dumb idea... wouldn't it? The fact that she even considered it at all spoke of how much losing bothered her. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt. Er-- either of us to get hurt," she chuckled, satisfied with that much of an answer.

"I'll tell you what, if you can get someone to supervise... we can spar," she negotiated, because although it was obvious that Hazel wanted to train and Callan was all for improving the strength of the team, Hazel's explaination, tone and childish feet kicking was still making her all kinds of uncomfortable. Even if they fought now and nobody was injured, the thought of possibly having to walk across campus in her birthday suit was a genuine fear she was beyond unwilling to admit to.

"I don't know anyone." Hazel replied. While she did know some of them, she had no idea who would supervise such a fight. Feeling bored, she started to lift herself with her hands, her legs straightening up as she did the feat. "I did not know your ability was similar to mine."

Having lifted herself on the pole, she started to slowly maneuver into a handstand on the pillar, oblivious to her skirt falling down. "I had thought your ability had been only enhanced physique, but to have that as well."

Already Hazel was losing interest fast in the training session. In her mind, there was no concept of 'sparring', only 'struggle'. Every single scenario with battle she had been in was for her life. A supervisor for a training session was odd for her, unless Callan meant for one to record their performances and such. Even so, the only ones she knew of would be back at the Plant.

Had Hazel always been this spry? Callan immediately averted her eyes the moment she saw the dress beginning to fall, staring up at the stars with Hazel at her back. "Y-yeah," she answered, quickly becoming flustered, "Mine aren't quite as big as yours, though." She forced a small laugh, she had absolutely no idea how to deal with this girl. Should she text Emma?

"Did you..." Callan started the sentence without thinking. Screw it, what was the worst that could happen? "... wanna see?" Hesitating for a moment, Callan summoned a large sword, pretty standard in form. Anything to get her skirt back down.

A few moments after Callan turned away from her, Hazel toppled over, her arms giving out, her head hitting the pillar as she fell into the dirt behind it. Dusting herself off, she turned towards the projected sword, rubbing the sore spot on her head. Eying it from different angles, it seemed... servicable? There were clear differences from the way hers worked and this one worked, but it was still similar. Did Callan also have a mental image of the object to maintain?

"Similar. It looks similar. "

Almost automatically, she reached out to grab it, curious about how it felt in the hand. It felt warm and solid, almost alive as it seemed to squirm in her hands. Nothing like hers at all.

"Is it alive?"

Callan seemed alarmed by Hazel's quick assessment, but quickly tried to mask it behind another nervous laugh. "No," she lied, "I don't think so, anyway." That was at least half true. If you believed all living things had something of a conscience.

Hazel stepped closer to Callan, leaning in towards her face. There was nothing but curiosity on Hazel's face as she tried to decipher that odd expression that flitted past.

"I see."

That was all she said as she stepped away. Hazel could find no conclusion, nor any real confimation of what it was.

"Then, if you will excuse me, I will need to resume training." Bowing slightly, she continued speaking. "Thank you for showing that to me."

Weighed down by her heavy weapon, Callan struggled to lean away, her mouth pursing into a thin line while Hazel observed to her heart's content. One relieved sigh later and it was over. Callan stared as Hazel made her bow, confusion clearluy etched onto her face. "Uh... yeah. Sure. No problem," she said, simply. "I'll... see you around."

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0

Oh man. I skip whole (and typically essential) words ALL THE TIME. Same thing with substitution. Words that sound similar, words that start with the same first letter or two. All the time. And those mistakes are nigh impossible to catch when proofreading yourself.