Baklava

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Statuses have been updated!

@RedDusk @Diggerton @Lasrever @Chasers115 @PapiTan @Dragonmancer @banjoanjo

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@Dragonmancer @banjoanjo

Whoops

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Callan Points Updated! Status Updates Soon To Follow...

@RedDusk @Diggerton @Lasrever @Chasers115 @PapiTan

Emma gained a friendship point! +
Emma gained a friendship point! +
Emma lost a friendship point... -

Ernie gained a friendship point! +
Ernie gained a friendship point! +
Ernie gained a friendship point! +
Ernie gained a friendship point! +

(I just realized Ernie and Emma, should've gotten some points for eating lunch with Cal all week. So here's to making up for lost time in addition to recent posts.)

Zoe gained a friendship point! +

(Threatening Callan to go home and take a nap? Priceless.)

Marcus gained a very confusing friendship point! +

(But it looks like all the other friendship points????)

Siena gained a friendship point! +

Chris gained a friendship point! +

(Yes, for just sitting there and saying nothing. Unlike SOME moody vampires. 6_6)

Sander lost a friendship point... -

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

『ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕟』 『𝔼𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥』

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𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / 𝕆𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝔹𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸 / / 𝟙𝟘𝟛𝟘

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_{Collab with @Baklava and @banjoanjo}

Ernie liked this. He liked walking around, making idle conversation with friends. It helped him forget-- not forget, ignore-- everything happening around him. Cal and Zoe were decent company, a nice balance of personalities. Of course, it couldn't last forever.

The Aberration found himself sharing an umbrella with Cal as they made their way back to the dorm buildings. Zoe needed to go elsewhere so being the gentleman he was (Hah.), Ernie had offered his own umbrella. It was only a short walk with an emotionally vulnerable acquaintance, how hard would it be? As the walk went on, he found his train of thought drifting back to the breakfast conversation. Cal had managed to bounce back but she was noticeably upset back there. The scratching in his chest made him frown. It wanted him to do it now of all times? To the most stable member of the strike team?

Just one little push. Help yourself. Then you can help her after.

Building someone back up meant nothing if he was the one who tore them down in the first place. Ernie smiled ruefully. He'd learnt nothing from what happened with Christmas. He truly was awful. But...

He needed to be clear for the mission, right? Couldn't have his Stigma ruin his objectives like on Monday, right? Otherwise he might take it out on Christmas again! Vapid justifications ran through his head. He wanted this. He wanted this.

Just one more, Ernie decided. If he managed to live through a Category 3 of all things, then he'd take it as a sign that there was still a chance. He'd fix himself. Not today, but sometime in the future.

I'm sorry.

He started innocently enough. "Hey Cal, can I ask you something?"

Leaving Ground Zero with Ernie, Callan found it easier not to think about breakfast. He wasn't Marcus and he wasn't Emma, so that was a bonus. Maybe she could finally start focusing on what was supposed to be the more important issue of the day-- making sure nobody died. Though really, the more she thought about it, the more she began to wonder how fruitful such efforts would be. Her position on the team wasn't exactly the most flexible in terms of keeping an eye out for people. And the information she had on the subnatural monstrosity was limited at best.

She'd thought about asking Ernie for his opinion, but by the time he finally spoke up, she'd decided it was a waste of time. Not that Ernie didn't have any good advice-- he'd been a subnatural much longer than she had and she definitely held his opinion in high regard. But until she knew more about the situation, it all just seemed rather pointless.

"Sure," Callan shrugged, glancing up at him.

Ernie wanted to turn away. But he wanted to see that broken look on her face more. The words started tentatively, slowly, then came out far too easily for his liking. He didn't look away.

"Do you... You have feelings for Marcus. Don't you?"

Well, so much for that.

A deer in the headlights look followed by several frantic glances to make sure nobody had heard what Ernie said accompanied the blatant lie as it slowly eased itself off her tongue.

"Nnnnnnoooooo," her cheeks burned as she touched her face, brushing aside stray strands of hair that weren't there, "O-of course not. Why would you think that??"

The Aberration stared at her for a second, shocked. Wha-- what was she...?

He couldn't help it. Unhindered laughter burst from Ernie and he struggled not to double over.

"C-Cal..." he held his stomach, still giggling, "It's okay. I-I won't tell--Pfft, hahaha!"

The pair stopped in their tracks. There was no way he could keep walking like this.

"You're a-- hah-- you're a really bad liar..."

Callan frowned indignantly. At first confused about what he'd found so funny (and ever so slightly offended), she scrambled for something to say once it was clear he didn't believe her. But what else could she say to convince him she didn't like Marcus? Her fists clenched inside her the pockets of her hoodie. What to say... what to say....

"Heh," she smiled uncertainly, joining in with a few chuckles of her own, "Uhm... w-was it really that obvious?"

Ernie managed to contain the fit with a few well-executed coughs. Why the hell was he laughing at a time like this, with what he was trying to do?

"Sorry, it was just so-- I wasn't expecting it," he breathed heavily, grinning uncontrollably, "Um, are you asking about the lying or the Marcus thing, because both were... yeah, both were pretty bad. I'm surprised no one else had picked it up."

Callan frowned again, concern creasing the bridge of her nose as she mulled over what he'd said. "You don't think anybody else knows?" she asked hopefully, "A-and you won't tell anyone? Promise?"

He looked at her strangely. There was power to be held over her now.

"You don't want Marcus to know?"

Prod the matter. Slowly but surely.

Callan seemed baffled by the question. "Of course not!" she looked away, taking a deep breath, "He's dating Emma."

"But Emma isn't even that great! She--" Ernie stopped himself. Truth be told, he didn't actually have too much to say about the girl. And careless lies were easy to expose. Ernie composed himself and started again, calmer this time.

"I bet if Marcus knew earlier, that would've been you."

"Wh-what?" Callan looked back at Ernie as if he'd grown a second head. Regret. Guilt for feeling regret. Instant regret for wanting to believe what Ernie said was true without using her goddamn brain. "No, I... I couldn't--" she growled at herself in frustration, "I don't think so, Ernie. Doesn't really matter now, anyway." She smiled ironically. Says the idiot who keeps thinking about it.

"What, your feelings don't matter?" he sounded agitated. Even though they could see the dorm buildings down the street, Ernie refused to keep walking, "Do you think you'd make him unhappy or something? Do you think he laughs with Emma the same way he laughs with you? Cal, why do you keep second-guessing yourself so much?"

Hiding half of her face behind her palm, Callan tried not to drown in embarrassment. Her feelings. Making Marcus happy. Dumb jokes and silly impressions. Things she'd noticed and things she'd liked. Things that, despite what Ernie said, didn't matter... right? "Heh heh. Ohh, I don't know. We get along alright, but...." it felt like something was constricting inside her chest. A dull ache of disappointment, "I can't say I'd make him any happier than Emma can. They seem to get along. Emma seems nice. Super strength and the ability to knock his head off his shoulders if he nails me with a scare prank is all I've really got goin' for me."

Ernie looked at her and sighed. "I wish you wouldn't talk yourself down like that. You're nice as well."

He paused, trying to think of more to say.

"Cal, do you know why I even brought this up?"

"No?" she answered, one sideways glance of curious suspicion later.

"I brought it up because of today, at breakfast. That was the worst goddamn excuse I've ever heard for anything," he stated bluntly, " 'I have to go do a thing'. I don't know if you're usually this bad at lying or if it gets worse when..."

He looked at her with worry in his eyes.

"...when you're upset."

"Mm... could be," she shrugged stiffly, surprised by Ernie's concern. She appreciated his words of encouragement, but... did she really want to talk to Ernie about this? She was silent for a moment, stewing over her own question. He already knew. And it wasn't like she had anyone else to talk to about Marcus. Telling Siena, if she hadn't already figured it out, would probably cause some tension in the suite and she definitely didn't want that.

"Well... I guess I'd kinda be lying if I said I'm really happy for them. But that's a sorta shitty thing to say."

"What, are you suddenly not allowed to have an opinion anymore?" Ernie raised an eyebrow. They were outside the dorm buildings by now. He didn't remember walking though, "You're not hurting anyone with it. So it's okay."

"I guess you're right," she smiled ruefully. Something about agreeing with him made her feel strangely sad. She wished she didn't feel that way. If she were a better friend, maybe she wouldn't be like that. Feeling jealous and cheated by pretty girls with clever smiles.

"I am right!" he beamed confidently, "It's okay to dislike things or think they're bad. And people are generally hard to judge correctly upon first impressions. So there's always that chance that your gut feelings were right all along."

And that was all he'd say on the subject. Some things were better left to the imagination. They entered the halls of Building A.

"Which one's your room? I'll walk you to your door."

"430," she answered absently, ruminating on what had been said. Her gut feeling? Was that her gut feeling? That Marcus and Emma shouldn't be dating? That she was the one who.... should... her train of thought blanched.

These new ideas felt all wrong. They were easy to entertain and justify. She was a nice person. Her feelings mattered, didn't they? Her opinions mattered.

But so did Emma's...

"Uhm," realizing that she might've been spacing out for too long, Callan cleared her throat, "Thanks, Ernie."

Although she somehow felt worse, it occurred to her that Ernie had only been trying to help.

Piercing, hazel eyes scanned the girl as she went quiet. Hm. So the best that he'd done today was shove her into a pit of uncertainty. Cal really was a nice person if his words failed to nudge her into more drastic thoughts. His efforts today weren't completely fruitless though. Not as fulfilling as a full on sob session, but it would probably have its longterm benefits. Part of him was glad that he'd only managed to go this far but there was another part of him that was hungry for more. He'd have to deal with that part of his Stigma more effectively in the next few days, if he managed to live that long.

"It's no problem!" Ernie chirped as they reached the door of Suite 430, "I'd rather not see a friend be upset over something I know I can help them with."

"Haha, well-- I appreciate it. Seriously." Ernie had given her a lot to think about. Maybe too much to think about, but... despite everything, she decided it was nice to have a friend like him around at a time like this. Unlocking the door with a quick swipe of her I.D. card, she paused before turning the handle.

"You wanna hang out here for a bit? Rain's comin' down pretty hard out there. We've got an awesome set up and a ton of snacks."

"Well, I can never say no to free food! Especially when I-- uhhhhhmmmm..."

Ernie had been vigorously scraping his wet shoes against the welcome mat when he caught sight of the monstrosity behind Cal. The Aberration's motions immediately came to a stop. It was as if he'd just seen a ghost. Catatonic horror was plastered on his face. Then after several seconds of silence, after a blink and a deep breath, he began to speak again, much more quietly this time.

"Cal. Those aren't yours, are they?"

Blissfully unaware of Ernie's surprise as she swung the door open and made her way towards her bed, Callan glanced over her shoulder at Ernie, chuckling at the funny look on his face. "What are you talking about?" she asked, plopping down on her bed as she kicked off her shoes and started replacing her slightly rain-dampened socks with a fresh pair.

The hapless Aberration stared as the damp socks joined the numerous other articles of clothing by Cal's pillow-infested bed. He was going to have to severely rethink this friendship he had. Ernie tentatively stepped over wrinkled shirts and socks, wrestling the urge to drop to his knees and pick up every single piece. He'd learnt the hard way that people generally didn't like it when he grabbed their things to clean them up. Nervous laughter was mustered to tide over the extreme discomfort he felt. Unfortunately, his resolve completely crumbled when he noticed the corner of a plastic wrapper peeping out from behind Cal's pillow. Ah, screw this.

Ernie dropped down to better scope out the situation, shock washing over his features as the darkness under the bed hinted at inconceivable amounts of more snack packets. Liam would have had an aneurysm. Unnatural compulsion suddenly seized the long-haired boy's body. This was...this was...completely unacceptable. Mess was bad. Mess made people like him get yelled at. Subconscious needs bubbled to the surface until Ernie was unable to control himself. When he finally stood back up, his movements and voice were almost robotic.

"Were you planning to nap soon?"

Callan followed Ernie's movements with her eyes as she finished pulling on her socks. "Uhm..." she voiced herself in concern as he dropped to the ground and peeked under her bed for some reason.

Blinking up at him as he provided another question in lieu of an answer. She folded her legs and shrugged, "Was gonna get a snack and veg out for a bit first. And shower eventually... why? What's wrong?"

"Right, right. Sure, there's nothing...wrong."

Ernie looked like his soul had left his body. Then he snapped straight, as if realising something.

"Wait here. I'll be back soon."

Without waiting for a response, the boy sped out of the suite. Alarmed, Callan called out after him to no avail. He returned with a dull gray vacuum in tow, eyes still as distant as they were when he left. Something about 'steam mops' and buying 'a new model since Evan took it' was muttered under his breath as he plugged the machine into a power socket.

In the span of Ernie leaving, Callan had already obtained a snack pack of beef jerky and returned to her bed, leaving the door cracked for his supposed return. She sat up as Ernie reentered, eyeing the vacuum with curious amusement. "Ernie," she snirked, "What are you doing?"

He left the vacuum unattended for a moment to pick up the stray clothing and toss them into the hamper. The wrappers would have to be dealt with afterwards.

So weird. Callan almost spoke up to alert Ernie that a few of the clothes on the floor were in fact clean, but decided she didn't much care. It had reached the point where almost all of them were due for a wash anyway. Setting down her jerky, she reached down off the bed and gathered up what she could reach, balling up her recently used socks and two shirts and throwing them at an arch towards the hamper. She over shot the bundle by a lot, but they merely hit the wall with a thud and fell into the basket. She frowned, dissatisfied with her shot nonetheless.

"Uh, well, it's just, uh," Anxious hands fumbled with the vacuum's switch once all the articles were safely packed away. A muted hum sounded from the machine. Saturday with Allison had taught him to use the quiet once more often. Ernie spun to face Cal, racking his brain for a reasonable-sounding answer, "I like cleaning. It's a nice thing I like to do when I've got time to waste. Helps me take my mind off stuff."

Right now, his hurried actions made it seem like it was doing the exact opposite of taking his mind off. He recalled a small tidbit from a lunch conversation. Something to make what he was doing look less weird than what it already was.

"You did basketball, right? Did you have some activity you liked to do before a big game?"

"Ew, I hate cleaning," Callan chuckled, following the vacuum with her eyes as she laid on her stomach, arms hanging over the bed with snack pack in hand. "But that's probably kinda obvious..." In between bites, she collected what wrappers she could reach, tightly balling them up in her palm.

"Uh, yeah-- I played power forward," she smiled, "Game days were the best. We'd get sandwiches at this place by the school and hang out in the gym. Shoot around, braid hair, blast music...." Her smile faded at the memory. They'd all been so excited for this upcoming tournament. She wouldn't be there.

"That sounds great," he breathed, meaning it. Ernie had always wondered what he would be like if things hadn't turned out so badly and he went to school. Would he have had good grades, or joined a sports team? How many friends would he have, since he would have never had his Stigma? How many pranks would he pull? It was nice to dream about these things sometimes. But that train of thought always resulted in a different sort of pain in his heart. So he tried not to think about it too much.

Ernie collected the wrappers from Cal to toss into the bin. Then he began vacuuming, starting from underneath the bed. Cal seemed a bit sad towards the end there. He saw an opportunity.

"Yeah, your friends sound really nice. Do you still talk to them?" he pried innocently, making sure to cover himself, "I mean, I know people don't really like subnaturals but I do know some people back at West who still talk to people from their old lives."

"Not really," she answered after a moment's hesitation. She found some far corner of the room to stare at as she propped her elbows up on a pillow, "It's kinda complicated, but...." She paused again, wondering if this was a road she wanted to go down with Ernie right now. It was still a fresh wound and she'd been firm in her resolve not to bother anyone with her family issues thus far. But some small part of her wanted to tell him. To vent about it just a little. Judging by their conversation up to this point, he seemed trustworthy enough, right?

"Well. Far as I know, they have no idea what happened to me. Probably think I died or something," she laughed, a hint of bitterness to the sound. It was a half truth to test the waters. "But you've probably heard enough about my dumb problems for the day. Do you still keep in touch with people you knew?"

Ernie's eyes widened as he struggled to stammer out an answer. Geez, he was really caught off-guard with that one. What was he supposed to say, that everyone he'd known before West was dead or arrested?

"Uh...n-no, not really. I don't think I was close enough to anyone to warrant that anyway."

Even if he was, no one he knew would have the means to contact him. He tried not to think about it too much.

"But that's really old news on my end. And I've made a lot of friends since then. I think a part of me is secretly glad I got caught by the USARILN people."

A nervous laugh escaped his lips as a poor attempt to escape the tension. He needed to change the subject quickly.

"But um, your friends. Why would they think you died? Did something happen when you got caught?"

Not close enough to anyone to warrant keeping in touch? Sounded lonely. The opposite of her life before coming here. Perhaps she'd taken it for granted. A sympathetic smile faded away as Ernie asked about her own friends again. She should've just come up with a lie. Brushed him off. But then the echoes of Ernie's laughter from the last time she'd made an attempt like that made her second guess....

"Uhm," against her better judgement, she told him. "My parents kinda... told everybody I died." The words felt sticky in her throat and she winced as the dull ache inside jumped at the chance to make itself known. Reminding her it was still there. She at least managed not to mention destroying her house-- her secret about Misery was more important than this fleeting closure. "I could probably get a hold of them, but... uh... I haven't really tried. M-might just be best to move on, y'know?"

She hid her frown in the pillow, swallowing hard as she folded the wrapper of the empty jerky bag. Smaller and smaller until it couldn't physically be folded anymore.

"Oh."

Ernie had to admit that that despite all the subnatural stories he'd heard about strained family relationships, this was a new one. He felt... sad. But more than that, he felt guilty. Why was she entrusting him with something so big? She barely knew him and it would be so easy to use all this stuff against her, to tell everyone of her shame and see that shattered expression and--

The vacuum cleaner was switched off since the entire suite was pretty much spotless by now. Plus, it seemed a bit inappropriate to be focused on a chore when Cal was looking so distraught. It was the least amount of decency he could show right now.

I'm sorry. Just a bit more.

"Wow... why would they do that?" Ernie asked solemnly, "Did they really hate you or something?"

Brows furrowed, she glared with a defensive "No" seated on the tip of her tongue. But the word never came out. She took a deep breath to steady herself as the thoughts took form. She'd always believed her parents loved her-- were at least moderately proud of her successes and triumphs. But telling everyone your kid was dead when they weren't. Wiping out all their social networks. Refusing to speak to them. Their choices didn't exactly exude familial love.

"Heh," she exhaled with a broken smile, "Who knows...?"

"I don't understand. Your parents are supposed to stick by you no matter what, right?"

Hah, what would he know about that? There were days where he couldn't even remember his own parents' faces properly. Ernie stared, his expression too neutral to be natural.

"You don't even know why... what made them do that?"

It was basically the same question. Same question. Same answer. Well... lack of answer. But the harder she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. And nothing made her quite as prone to tears like frustration, the vestiges of which she could feel starting to pool. Sitting up into a less vulnerable position, she leaned her back against the wall of pillows, hugging her knees as she tried to stop herself. For the love of God, don't cry, she begged, all the more frustrated by the certaintly of her impending failure. It wasn't Ernie's fault. She had to remind herself of that. But with everything that was going on today... the part of her that didn't want to vent sure wished he hadn't asked so many questions.

"Heh." It was hardly a smile, but it'd have to do. She wiped away the first run away tear with the foot of her palm before it could be seen. "Yeah... I guess they're pretty bad parents. Or I'm a pretty bad kid. I really... don't know...." Broken glass and plaster. Shattered picture frames and other familiar objects crushed beneath pitch black claws. Her biggest clue.

Such a low blow. He couldn't ever fight, talk, do anything, without it being completely filthy, could he? Perhaps this was his punishment for such a garbage power. How could he attack someone physically if he couldn't attack anything physically? Maybe his Stigma realised this and forced him into another method. All because he was too weak to be able to do anything else.

He saw too many opportunities now. Yes, she was a bad kid. Yes, how could a parent love a failure like her. But he didn't want to do it. It was one thing to attack a stranger, an innocent kid. But to do it to a friend? To someone who'd bared so much of herself to him? Cal was lucky that this wasn't one of his bad days. He knew exactly what he would have done in this moment otherwise. Ernie sighed.

"I wish you'd stop trying to laugh when you're upset, Cal. I... kinda hate it. Makes it harder for me to figure out what to say," Ernie knelt by the bed. He needed to see her face with his own eyes, to see what he'd done. Only then would he feel good, "Your parents hurt you, right? And they didn't even tell you why. Cal, you don't have to act like you're fine with all this."

Callan supposed it had been foolish. To think that just by hanging on her advice from Lawrence that day at Ground Zero, she'd be able to 'get over it' just like that. To distract herself with happiness as a far off goal and control as something within reach-- enough not to let herself feel sad since the initial storm had ebbed. Staring at Ernie as he knelt down, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. This was so embarrassing. She'd never liked crying in front of people and vice versa.

Laughing things off generally made her feel better in any given situation, but she did her best to accomodate Ernie. It was the least she could do for being such a huge buzzkill today. In more ways than one. Without that outlet as she chewed her lip, however, a few rogue tears managed to roll down her cheeks before she could catch them.

"Sorry," she muttered, "Yeah, I suppose I'm not... super fine with it all. B-but hey." She shrugged, wincing at the despondency of her solution. "Not a whole lot I can do about it right now."

Huh. She finally started crying. And it hadn't made him feel as good as it thought it would. Why was that?

Ah well, he'd done what he'd set out to do. It hadn't worked but it was done and that was all that mattered. Now to fix it like he promised himself.

"Cal. My mom and dad...they both died when I was nine."

He wasn't ashamed or upset. The time for those feelings had long since passed. It didn't make it less uncomfortable to say out loud, but he didn't mind it if people knew. This wasn't the secret he'd do anything to keep hidden anyway. It was nothing compared to the nature of his Stigma. Ernie tried his best for a comforting smile.

"So I probably have no right to give you advice on parent stuff. But coming from me, if I had the chance, I'd talk to them. You're not gonna get any answers if you don't ask. I can't guarantee that you'll like what you hear but if you really don't like it, then you've got us. Me, and Marc and Siena and Emma. Then you can move on for real. This is a new life you've got, after all! I knew a lot of people who didn't get that chance."

Her eyes widened at Ernie's sudden revelation. Not that death was a wholly abnormal motif in today's world, but she hadn't expected Ernie to tell her something so personal so suddenly. She wanted to say something, but he kept right along talking as if unphased. She sniffled and wiped at what she hoped was the last of her tears for now, thoughtfully mulling over his advice.

"I guess I don't have a whole lot to lose by trying, huh?" she mused, "Yeah... maybe I'll give it shot. After we kick some monster ass this afternoon."

Ernie laughed heartily. "I think I'd stub my toe if I tried to kick these monster asses."

The Aberration stood up, brushing nonexistent dust from his pants. He probably shouldn't stay around long enough to give his Stigma another try. Ernie looked around at the freshly-vacuumed floor, admiring his handiwork.

"I guess my work here is done. I've got a feeling this floor won't be clean for very long so if you ever need an excuse to call me over and have me raid your snack pile, hit me up. I'll see you after the mission, yeah?"

Callan stood up as well, chuckling as she surveyed the floor around her corner of the room. Save the unruly bed and disorganized desk, it really did look fantastically clean. Perhaps she'd expend some effort towards tidying that up before taking a much needed shower and settling in for a nap.

"Haha, of course. And the door's always open. We can hang out any time-- I've got accounts with literally every online streaming site you can think of, so if you ever feel like wasting time that way...," she smiled genuinely, trying to ignore the distant thrumming of thoughts that felt it necessary to alert her to the fact that she'd basically just invited a guy to 'Netflix and chill'. But she was fairly certain she didn't like Ernie like that and figured, or rather hoped, he wouldn't draw that connection.

"Ernie?" she said before he could make it out the door.

"Mmyeah?" he perked up. Cal's invitation for many more movie nights like what he'd done with Brent had seriously hyped him up.

"Thanks. For everything. You're a good friend. Be careful out there, alright?"

His grin faltered and he turned away so Cal wouldn't see it. But when he turned back, it was more dazzling than ever.

"It's no problem. Y-you too, Cal. Stay safe."

With that, he hauled his vacuum out of the room and left. His movements seemed the barest bit clumsier than before as he dragged it away.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

Lmao. Apparently I need to have Goron tunics fall from the ceiling.

Small Town of Wizards and Witches!

Sooooo....

are we gonna dab or have to dab?
How many dabs are at this dab? How many different dabs are there? What's the dab and dab arrangement?
Is there a dab curfew? Dab?

WHATS DAB!?

I NEED DAB!

_{when your ready of course.}

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

@RedDusk Come on, bby. Don't be like that. You know you love me.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@Dervish SOZ NOT SOZ

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Callan Upgrade!

Callan can now manifest Misery as a weapon without losing her superbuffs. Even with her superstrength, however, the weapon is very heavy for her to lift.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

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𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥 / / ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕦𝕤 / / 𝟘𝟞𝟜𝟝

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The starry sky and vast ocean greeted her once again. Fear tainted the optimism she tried her best to cling to as she stood upon the surface. Control. This meant she would be stronger, didn't it? More capable of controlling the contemptible monster that was glued to her heels. Like a diseased stray dog that couldn't tell the difference between its food and the hand delivering it.

The breathless beauty of her surroundings helped her do away with such negative thoughts. In spite of her fear, she liked this place. In spite of her fear, it seemed perfect. Tailored for her and her alone. This was only her third visit and already she felt she knew it like the back of her hand. Enough to notice that something was different.

A warm breeze moved sea and sky alike. As if both were made of water, the wind rippled each surface until, slowly, they fell into a perpetual motion. The sound of crashing waves lulled her forward as a familiar droplet of water rose to meet her. She knew what to do.

I knew what to do. Reaching forward, I knew something was off the moment I touched it. Or, I should say... for the first time, it seemed to touch me. It was warm and tender and curious. I felt no hostility towards the strange sensation as it not only spread across my skin, but into the far reaches of my mind. Where words do not exist.

She thought the vision might end there. It felt as though it were meant to, but then she caught sight of her hands. As before, a thick black substance encased her skin. It was disgusting and wrong. She hated it. Callan sloughed it off like thick amalgamating tar. It fell at her feet in sheets and globs, squirming and writhing and looking altogether quite terrible until the sudden onset of gravity pulled her back through the starry waters.

---

When the guards came pounding at the door, Callan was already awake. A ringing in her ears and a pounding in her head left her stationary, waiting for the fog to clear. In contrast, her heart was racing with excitement. Something had changed. Something good. Beneath a mess of starry blankets and sheets, Callan burrowed her head beneath pillows as the pounding at the door grew louder, interrupting her thoughts and irritating her brain.

From the abyss beneath several pillows, she withdrew a maroon colored jacket with a diamond pattern across the right shoulder and collar bone. Its water repelling fabric was Callan's testament to just barely having enough presence of mind to recognize the harsh rain beating at the outside of the window. As she slid her feet into her tennis shoes, Callan pulled the elastic band away from her nightly hair bun, tousling her curly locks as they fell just past her shoulders.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed she had enough mascara left over from the day before to absolve herself from reapplication. Carefully rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she and her roommates were led out into the hellish weather, Callan steadily grew more alert as she realized they were not being led to class. It was too early for class anyway. Were they fighting monsters again so soon?

Suspicions confirmed, Callan attentively listened to ever scrap of given information. Staring at the screen before her, she felt unnerved. After the last battle, she had promised herself she would stay closer to her teammates. Make sure what happened to Padma wouldn't happen to anybody else. But, while she couldn't argue with the apparent logic behind this set up, she feared for her roommates.

Perhaps that was somehow selfish. Callan quickly realized that she was far more worried about Marcus and Siena than any of the others. Worse still, she even felt a tinge more of concern for Marcus than Siena. She should be equally concerned about everyone-- shouldn't she? That's what a real hero would do.

But Marcus and Siena were... all she really had. She couldn't bring herself to feel that burning desire to win like she had when she used to think about home. Home was gone. In every sense of the word, she had destroyed it. Suite 430 in Building A with Marcus and Siena-- that was home now. And though she'd only been there for a short period of time... she liked it. Enough to do anything within her power to protect it, anyway.

Perhaps this latest development was a sign. Dreamcatcher giving her the tools she needed to succeed.

Only one way to find out.