cerozer0

⋆ Greenwing Academy for Troubled Supers ⋆

@LetterA

_{hdiqnxosbeb shhh I didn't not yet I'm going to bed fuckIn fuck me up my dude}

★ Wanderlust ★

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When King woke up, he was met with a flurry of colors. A blizzard of lights, swallowing him whole. His mind was his own for a millisecond, screaming out something about a cave and a tree and don't drink the water, don't drink the water don't- and then he felt nothing. He sat motionless on a blank white plain, hopelessly tired. Too tired to move. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion and his mouth was full of cotton and his mind was swimming in a wave of nausea and anxiety and amnesia.

this isn't real

King hugged his knees and stared ahead, blank eyed, blank faced. Blank, blank, blank. He wasn't real; he wasn't alive or dead, breathing or not. He wasn't anything. This isn't real, no one said. This isn't real. King stared ahead, hugged his knees closer to his chest, and reveled in nothingness. Blankness. He was an outsider looking in on himself-- on his dreamscape and his nothingness. King felt his knees against his chest, but he also saw himself moving them closer, hugging them tighter. He saw his back clearly first, and felt eyes on him at the same time. When he turned around to see who was looking he found another Richard King, and beyond him another, and another. They were all blank-faced, literally.

None of them had faces.

King looked forward again and sighed (and watched himself sigh), and when the noise reverberated in the blank air a curious thing happened. Colors formed around the various Richard Kings, glowing balls of warmth and feeling. Little pieces of King, emotions and thoughts and memories. They swallowed the nothingness in an instant, and King watched himself stand to reach for a particular gathering of colors. Blue, purple, orange, green. Suddenly, King was one and he felt a swell in his chest. Life chased away the blankness and he knew for sure that everything was okay. These fairylights were together and because of that they were stronger, more likely to live and feel happiness. The four colors swelled in his palms, warm, full of emotions, and suddenly he was aware of something about himself.

King's eyes turned towards another color, not too far from the original four but just distant enough to seem like an outsider. It was red in color, and glowed brighter than the rest. It burned his fingertips when he attempted to coddle it over to the other lights. His mind whispered, you never did know how to feel things half way. King nodded to the whisper, hands drifting down and away from the lights, and the four colors eventually grew closer to the blazing red one on their own accord, amplified by the heat the lonesome fairylight gave off. King smiled. He saw himself smile again.

this isn't real

The lights blinked out simultaneously and King was left alone in darkness.

He felt nothing again, but the oddly welcomed kind of nothing. It was the nothing someone might feel as they settled in to their bed, late at night, surrounded by the warmth of a familiar blanket and the darkness of a familiar room. The only something that would dare to enter that nothingness would be a sliver of moonlight from the half-closed windows and the buzz of summer nightlife. King felt his head press against a pillow, sleep dragging at his eyelids, sleep dragging at his mind. A guitar glinted against the wall opposite to him, loose from recent use and shiny in the half-light. Beside him his cellphone burned, and in the room next door he heard the gentle strumming of a Beatles song. Everything was quiet and warm and familiar. He was home.

There was the crashing sound of footsteps, coming up the stairs, coming to his door.

He was home.

There was the growling breath of a smoker. Deep inhale, soft exhale. Deep inhale, soft exhale.

He was home.

Three fists crashed against his door. Bang. Bang. Bang. I KNOW YOU TOOK MY SMOKES, DICK. I KNOW YOU TOOK THEM, YOU FUCKING THIEF. I KNOW YOU TOOK MY SMOKES.

He was home.

King was sitting up in an instant and, suddenly, his room was replaced with a distant and unfamiliar forest. His father stood over him with a gun in one hand and a lighter in the other. The lighter flicked to life and then as snuffed, again and again. His father smiled. King had recently been crying, but now he wasn't; his face felt hot and wet with forgotten tears and his jaw was clenched too tight. He was frightened. Henry King took a step forward, placed the barrel of the gun in between King's brow, and growled Si vis pacem, para bellum.

The gun fired.

King woke up in a hotel room. Sweat dripped from every surface, shining in the morning light that just barely fought through the pulled-blinds. Arms were wrapped around his waist, lazy with sleep, and oh so familiar. This isn't real, his mind told him, but his body disagreed. This was perfectly normal. When he tried to move the arms tightened, and someone shifted beside him, mumbling incoherently. King turned his attention to the lump in the blankets beside him, trying and failing to utter a confused 'hello?' or 'who are you?'. His voice refused to work. The lump shifted again, and again, and before King could see their face the lights vanished once more. The room was gone. The bed was gone. The arms remained.

They were back on the white plain.

this isn't real

King stared up at a shadowed face and he felt his lips quiver with emotions he couldn't decipher. A finger dragged across his jaw, feather-light and impossibly loving. It dipped into the hollow of his neck, trailed across his collar bone, explored the canyon between his chest and counted each rib. Down, down, down. King squinted and tried again to speak, but his words were missing and all that was left were fervent sighs. Dark hair moved above, darker eyes stared down, and he saw the faintest hint of a smile blossom across the face above his. King smiled back, and he watched himself smile back. And then King and the shadow were kissing, chaste and light. Warmth filled him, left behind lasting memories on his lips, and it was all too real. This had to be real. They were bodies electric, and the white plain once again twisted into a landscape of colorful lights and magic.

For a moment, the dark eyes pulled back and turned yellow. The hands, so gentle and kind before, became razor sharp and clawed with an ache for murder. Fingers tickled back up his neck, dragging sharpness over every vein in sight, and then pressure eased down onto his throat, strangling him. A tease of red hair danced across his eyes as the figure leaned down to bury their teeth into King's neck, drawing blood, and King simply laid their and allowed the shadow to bleed them dry. Someone whispered Tell me where Haven is.

The shadow person was gone and King was left alone on the plain, completely unscathed. His knee lifted up, poking at a few lights, and his hands lay heavy and exhausted at either side of his head. Tears had started to spill, summoning more, bluer lights into the air, and he wasn't sure when or how they started. King sniffled silently and cried, feeling relief as an emotional weight was lifted from his chest. His back burned. Thunder rumbled. And he cried. He cried and cried and cried until the plain was bathed in blue lights and he was able to sit up and wander aimlessly through the field, moaning out more tears and lights as he walked further and further into the white nothingness. He felt lonesome. Alone-some. He felt sorrow and fear. Thunder rumbled again and he sobbed. Lonesome.

Flashes of something stopped his wandering. He turned his eyes to the sky as various places flashed by a mile a minute. A golden desert, a gray ocean, an endless forest path, a tree-cave, a motel room, a cellar, a city. They were all familiar and, at the same time, they meant nothing to him. The faces appeared-- his sister, Aiden, Jess, Malcolm, a half-shadowed man with yellow eyes and red hair, a half-shadowed boy with pink hair, a trio with faces all blotted out by fire and water and wind, a girl with flowers in her hair and vines on her arms, a girl with wild eyes and a confident smile, two boys held tightly to one another, another trio but one of the figures was pale and almost nonexistent, and then finally himself. Richard King stared down at Richard King, eyes burning despite his apathetic face. He was filled with rage and love and magic, and he was alive.

Behind him sat Verona, Washington, and it slowly faded into the distance. He knew the King above him had nothing left back at that town. He was meant to leave it and grow and discover a place where he would be able to live. The fire in his eyes burned holes into the sky, and the white plain turned into nothing but air. And King fell into nothingness, feeling full of something he shouldn't know yet. He fell for centuries, noiseless and exhausted and enlightened. Nothing was right. Nothing was real. He just wanted to wake up. Wake up.

wake up

And then he did.

Ѧasks

@Esoteric

Skav would love her fashion sense obviously. He's always wearing hyper-colored shirts and shit cause he adores the color scheme, so he'd be like "oh sugar glider chick? she looks pretty sick 24/7"

however, i think he'd dislike her taste for drugs, which would in turn make him a bit less chatty around her.

Ѧasks

Skav's been around the Razor's since they were 15, so he's probably gonna know a few folks within~ If anyone wants to discuss relations with me anytime soon just PM, though I probably won't get back to you till tomorrow!

The Runaways

ill try to get a post up either today or tomorrow <3

★ Wanderlust ★

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"Jesus Jess, chill.” King called with a grunt as he fell, hissing as he felt his converse soak in another layer of dirty moisture, "It's either this or getting shot up back home, though...” He didn't feel the need to finish the thought. The forest before them would explain his hesitance easily; words were now just things to trip over, just like the roots underfoot and the frightful nothingness ahead.

King's eyes turned forward, glaring out in the darkness that could perhaps be endless. The rain thudding down around them didn't help distinguish any kind of depth to the void beyond the trees. No, that wasn't right. He could feel depth, even if the black sheen in front of him seemed solid enough to press against. There was a shimmer to the air, just as there was to the map and van. Magic seemed to favor nature, after all. King swallowed the threatening fear and waded after the group, taking note of Aiden's hand wrapped around his sisters with a hideous sneer. If only the darkness was thick enough to hide that from his own wandering eyes. Pointedly, he turned away and rushed to the head of their group, tugging his hood more securely over his forehead as the path below them grew muddier and slicker with old and loose dirt-turned-mud.

It wouldn't be wise to continue on like this, King felt his mind whisper as his hand shot out to catch a low branch and his feet fought to re-balance themselves. A gnarled root had tugged a clean cut into his mucky jeans, crossed right across the front of his shin. There was a sting of momentary pain and then just more gritty wetness which King couldn't help but groan at. "Fuck this.” He said, straightening up from the branch and turn his eyes skyward. Water pressed against his cheeks and eyelids, freezing cold and scented with oceans and rivers that settled far beyond where any of them had been. He felt the magic simmering in the air again, twisting around them, welcoming them. For a moment, he thought he heard whispers. Nonsense words, ringing in the ear that was turned closest to the path. Come, come, come they said. King pushed the noises away and opened his eyes, staring at the group and then the path. His palms felt warm with unsettled energies, and then he tilted his head down to stare at the mucky path and utter an unspoken spell.

The first glints of light streamed from behind rocks and rain-pressed ferns; fireflies without the 'flies' part. They drifted up and glinted warily around everyone's heads, blinking in and out of existence. Some would fade then, and more would replace them, forming from the shimmery magic King could see lining their feet. The forest nearby also streamed with blinking lights, but it only seemed to last for a few feet away from King, seeing as he, the spellcaster, made himself a focal point for the magical orbs. "There we go.” He muttered eventually, nodding ahead. Water dropped from his nose, rainwater mingling with sweat. "Stay close if you don't wanna trip or something.” He shoved his warm hands into his sweatshirt pockets, hoping to retain the heat as the chill of rain once again washed over him, and then he started up after the path again.

And they walked, and walked, and walked, guided by magical fairylights, until the trees on either side of the group cave way and a wall of smooth stone stood before them. No... Not just the wall. A cave was staring darkly forward, yawning lazily. Above it sat an old tree, roots forming the weepy roof of the cave. King only knew it was old because he could feel age wafting off it, enclosing his rain-soaked head in a sensation of ice ages. He didn't like the feeling at all. "Well,” He hissed, taking half a step back, which in turn made a puff of orbs vanish as they pressed against his shoulders, "This is certainly scenic. What are we supposed to do here?”

★ Wanderlust ★

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Evening was encroaching on Route 101, and as the adrenaline of escape wore away, time seemed to speed up. They couldn’t see the ocean from the side of the road, as it turned out. Thick brambles and leafy foliage blocked whatever view might have existed of a harsh cliff-face on the easternmost road in Washington, and by the time there was even a gap in it, the skies were already far too dark.

Astrid investigated the magic-marked map closely as she followed the roadside signs with some difficulty. “Okay, so it’s not the campground itself,” she said as they neared what would be their first pit-stop. “It’s–well, have a look. It’s just down, and just across from it. I think we turn left down a dirt path just up here.”

Mal reached over the seat and plucked the map from Astrid’s hands to get a better look himself, except ended up muttering, “Ouch. Damn bloodthirsty piece of crap,” as he too fell victim to a papercut. “This isn’t ominous at all. I vote we send King out of the van first. Test subject. Canary in a coal mine. You know.” He swatted the boy on the knee for emphasis with the folded up road map.

"Why me?” King whined, pressing Mal’s hand away as he eyed the map warily. The whole bloodthirsty thing was really putting him off his game, obviously. King wasn’t a fan of injuries, whether on himself or others. His eyes turned briefly to the outside, narrowed out at the darkness and the familiar wetness that only Washington could bring. Dreary was the only word he could think of for the view. "We probably shouldn’t send just one person out.” He said with a slight grin, elbowing Mal in the side, and then he tilted his head towards the others, "Let’s just all head out together, deal?”

”What are you, scared?” Aiden twisted around to face King with a devious grin. ”The whole canary in a coal mine thing is to make sure not everyone dies in one go. Are you saying that you’d sacrifice all of us just because you’re too scared to go alone?”

”What’s there to be scared of?” Jess piped up, glancing out the window. ”I mean… It’s Washington. Nothing interesting happens here.”

”Murders in Verona, spooky happenings behind closed doors, magical people like us, people who hate magic, the Twilight books… I mean, it’s at least sort of interesting,” Astrid replied matter-of-factly and seemingly disinterested in the fact they were discussing shoving King out the van to possibly die at the hands of some unspeakable evil. That happened on a daily basis.

”That’s the wrong kind of interesting.”

"I’m-- I’m not scared it’s just,” King glowered at Aiden, eyes flickering darkly, "I see no reason why anyone should have to go alone. Sounds kinda dumb, honestly. And it’s not even that bad out there.” Though, as he said that, King cast a wary eye to the back of the van. Dreary, dreary, dreary. He gradually rose up from his seat and ducked his head, ambling backwards until he was able to push the door open and allow a sudden rush of chilling, rain-scented air to fill the car. The darkness seeped in soon after, starless and foggy, and King felt his fingers twitch with fear.

It was just dark outside, dark and woodsy, but still his heart thudded and his palms grew clammy. King glanced back at the crew in the car, forcing a wide smile, and silently brushed off his anxious worrying as nothing more than a wariness of the dark. "There, door’s open. Let’s see where Mr. Map wants to take us.”

He hopped from the back of the van and squelched into rain-sodden gravel and dirt, wincing as he felt the chill and dampness soak the worn bottoms of his converse. Ahead, the dirt path was patched with puddles and pine nettles, looking just as soaked as the earth underfoot."God, it’s fuckin’ nasty.” King mumbled, "Let’s get this over with.”

Astrid looked doubtfully out at the chilling drizzle and pulled her arms across her chest to hold her cardigan together. “You know, I’m starting to think our escape was a bit rushed. I didn’t bring a jacket,” she said as she stepped out of the van to follow her brother to either something anticlimactic or certain death.

“Well, if we’re going to California soon, we won’t need any.”

★ Wanderlust ★

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"Boston!" King cried from his spot on the floor, hands raising in the fakest sense of excitement ever uttered by anyone. There was no real reason to his exclamation, King just wanted to shout and keep his dry throat from crackling due to under use. A near hour of wallowing wasn't good for anyone, even trained professionals like Richard King. Blinking the last waves of familiar, lung-clenching sickness from his mind, the blonde sat up and ran his fingers through his hair once, twice, three times in total. It curled like it was thrown wildly through a storm, and did nothing to make the hollows of his face any more lively. He was tired already, of the road and running, but the others would only scorn him for complaining. So, he moved up to an empty bench and settled on staring out the window, mopey, silent.

Washington was restless beyond the glass. Though the rain outside was noiseless and steady, and the sky rolled too slow to watch, King could tell. It hummed with life; pine trees sang by as they swam passed on the high way and shrubs curled under water weight and insects and animals hunted beneath the canopy. Life burned through this state like a fire. Or like them as they fled. Quickly. King hummed a song he deemed fitting to the scenery, silently cursing the fact that he couldn't bring his guitar along for the trip, silently cursing the trip itself. Cursing cursing cursing.

You'll find another guitar on the road.

His mind whispered to him, it's decision set obviously. No matter how much King moped about leaving and the danger and obtuseness ahead of them he knew that staying behind would only kill him. It was a life or death situation, and there was a part of King that really, really wanted to stay alive. He cursed that part of him too.

King allowed himself to mope just a few silent moments longer and then he too got restless. His blood boiled for freedom or, in this case, attention. The unadulterated kind that either lead to fingers tangled in his hair or a tongue coated in venom and insults. He was down for either. King shimmied his way passed Jess and Malcolm, lips pulled back into an emotionless grin for them, and he settled on leaning against Astrid's seat. It took some effort to crane his neck over the hippie-glossed seat, but he did with little complaint and just settled his chin into the groove of his sister's shoulder, staring down at her map with curious and dull eyes. It shimmered in her hands, too faint to point out, but enough to keep his eyes locked on the parchment.

"Why don't we drive down to Cali?" He questioned just to fill the air, sniffing away a sneeze as dark hair tickled his nose, "We could become beach hermits or something. Real fuckin' hippies to fit in with this lame-ass van. That would be pretty tight, huh, Az?" A cheeky grin turned her way, muffled again by her long hair, and then King turned it to Aiden who would be much too focused on the road to pay attention to the mocking gesture.

★ Wanderlust ★

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A smooth and mostly humming ride later brought King’s mood up considerably, despite the circumstances. The circumstances of seating, that is. Astrid had wiggled up to share the bench with Aiden, who had insisted on driving which King honestly couldn’t care less about. His eyes couldn’t help but wander to the back of his sister’s head, however, even as his thigh pressed against Mal’s awkwardly and his lap was currently filled with a startling amount of Jess. He could have easily allowed himself to fume a bit more, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and suspicious shimmer around him as if trying to tempt him, but each bad thought was replaced by another bounce of the wheels against potholes and a pained laugh as his back banged against the sturdy walls.

"Dang, you’re heavy Jess! Why don’t you sit over there?” He laughed, voice laced with jest and stress as his good foot pointed out at the bed/bench opposite to them. And then to his sister and Aiden, he said, "We’re going to buy shit right? And is there anything in the glove compartment we could use? Like… More money?”

”Wow, King. Are you trying to pick a fight?” Nevertheless, Jess moved off away, flinging herself into the seat across from him. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout.

”Do we really need more money?” Astrid asked skeptically, at least before she realised she was being stupid. They were kids on the run; what they had stolen from Henry King wouldn’t last forever, and they definitely couldn’t use their credit cards where they could be tracked. [b][color=6d98f3]Okay, yeah, I guess we do. Let’s see…[/b][/color]

Inside the glove compartment, which had its own small light at the back of it to make finding anything in its dark depths possible, Astrid discovered an assortment of papers, most of them scrunched up or in some way damaged. Quickly smoothing one out, a few mysterious symbols stood out to her, all in a row as if it was some form of handwriting. When the second of the torn pages proved to have something similar written on it, she pushed them aside and took out the next big item: the unmistakable form of a great American roadmap – probably the most expensive brand found in a gas station somewhere on a desolate route.

”No cash, just… weird notes and a map. At least that’ll come in handy.”

”I grabbed some cash from my family,” Aiden spoke, glancing over briefly at the notes before turning his attention back onto the road. The van was surprisingly easy to drive, he had been expecting it to be a lot more difficult and uncooperative. Maybe it was possible to survive in this for a while. Aiden navigated his way easily through the town of Verona, turning on the familiar streets until he pulled into the small parking lot of the dollar store. ”Go crazy, guys. Might as well stock up on anything we need right here.”

”Wow, the dollar store? What are we, peasants?” Jess scoffed, hopping out of the car.

"Genius, Philly. Positively genius.” Whether King was being sarcastic or not was lost to the wind as he hopped out after Jess, throwing Malcolm an unreadable eyebrow-raise just as his head barely missed the lip of the van. He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket, pulling out his two credit cards with the elegance of a magician or gambler, "I’m gonna run these suckers dry in here. Splurge on junk food and shit. Who’s with me?” He glanced out at the near-empty lot of the store, and then back to the van and the crew idling around it, lips shadowed by a thin, boyish smile.

”Yeah, ‘cos the best place to run down a credit card is in the dollar store,” Mal said with a sly grin directed at King, even though an excited tremor did run imperceptibly down his spine. Sure, he could have gone to a store at any point in his life with a hundred dollars and spend, spend, spend, but it was better when it was somebody else’s money.

He reckoned that he should have felt bad about that.

Meanwhile, Astrid was compiling another list in her head of everything she had failed to bring with her, and it involved practically all of her toiletries at home, pens and pencils, and food. She was sure food was a big must, no matter how long they managed to survive on the road. And, Aiden was even providing her with another way to get back at Dad – worthy of a blinding smile, surely.

As they moved inside, Astrid ran over to grab a shopping cart and used it like a battering ram to barge through the– doors that opened automatically. One day, she promised herself, [/i]one day they won’t do that, and I’ll break right through them.[/i] “Okay. Go ham.”

”Maybe it’s not the best place to spend a lot of money, but we can buy a shit ton of stuff!” Jess grinned, grabbing Aiden’s hand to pull him along into a dash. He was moving far too slow for her tastes. With a chuckle, Aiden obliged and broke into a slow jog to avoid getting his arm torn out. ”Can we just buy out the entire store? If we all put our cards together, we’ll have enough money, right?”

”Go for it,” Aiden shrugged, ”We probably can’t fit everything—and she’s gone.” His words of caution were easily disregarded by the slight shopoholic girl dashing away eagerly. She would probably end up spending her life savings here if she wasn’t stopped — which probably didn’t matter much anymore, actually. So instead of keeping tabs on her (why did Aiden have to be the responsible one, again?), Aiden was content to wander around to look at whatever caught his fancy, while Jess wreaked havoc on the store.

King strode through the store with his head high and his best ‘I’m gorgeous’ smile dawned. The single cashier barely rose an eyebrow, but he didn’t seem to mind, because he felt like some kind of unstoppable God with his cards in hand, because his heart was as light as it could be considering the situation. Because his back ached but after a few weeks it may not have to anymore.

He hummed a nonsensical song and strode through aisles, gathering up bags of chips and random movies to play on the small DVD player he had stowed away in the front of his backpack. He hummed and hummed and hummed, even as he returned to the chart to pile up his belongings, only passing on oddly still smiles to his comrades. King was jubilant, it shimmered around him like aura, and he could only hope his good vibes could infect the emotions of his friends as well.

At one point in his musical exploration he stopped, eyes staring down curiously at an aisle that seemed to be filled with novelty snow globes. He picked one up and viewed the inside world, a tiny replica of some long-eroded city, and King gave it a hefty shake to bring the glitter and water to life. "Oh.” He muttered to himself as he saw lights filter through the shining glitter that drifted down upon a possible-New York City. It looked positively magical despite its unassuming surrounds, so he stared at it for a moment longer than he should have and sighed.

They wouldn’t need a snow globe.

“That’s got more glitter in it than my wardrobe,” Mal said, chin landing on King’s shoulder as he reached around with one long arm and poked at the offending snowball. He laughed at his own joke, before his face took on a serious deadpan expression – smile dropping into a comically severe line – as he continued, “Joke. I wouldn’t be caught dead in glitter. You taking it to spice up the van?”

King scoffed, shrugging Mal away as he said, "Nah. I kind of want to throw it though. If you get what I mean.” He gave it one last shake and then put it back on the shelf, grin fierce in the dim lightning of the store. An odd happiness came over him again, utterly inexplicable, and he shoved Mal forward with his shoulder lightly to start another confident stride to the next aisle. "Anyway--”

”Woohoo~!” With a cheer, Jessica slid into the aisle, using the shopping cart like a scooter. Her cart was already half-full with a variety of items ranging from chips to nail files to novelty paper snowflake patterns. Anything that even remotely caught her interest went in the cart. She nearly crashed into the wall from scooter-ing too hard, but hopped off and stopped it just in the nick of time.

”Guys, guys! Did you know that there’s a thing called ‘slut pills’? I didn’t. I got seven.”

"What? Shit, better share ‘em with Philly. He’d probably love ‘em.” King stared into her cart and his grin didn’t falter. Jess’ mood was intoxicating and infectious, and King’s eyes devoured all of the shimmering colors relentlessly, "I got, uh, some shitty movies for the DVD player. And almost a snow globe-- almost.”

Mal had since stalked to the end of the aisle and down into the next one, the pharmaceuticals and toiletries and everything else under the sun. Astrid was already there, picking out the highest factor sunscreen she could possibly find that wouldn’t turn her into some sort of white-faced mummy slathered in embalming moisturiser that smelled like lemon. Despite her arms being full of wet wipes and tissues and ‘feminine hygiene products’, he didn’t offer to help her, instead leaning down to pick up a few boxes of condoms. A few.

“Not in my van,” she muttered.

“So outside the van, then. Gotcha.” A wink and a mortified laugh from Astrid later and they were heading back down the aisle cart in tow. It wasn’t as full as Jessica’s, though it was slightly more sensible, having tubes of toothpaste as well as chocolate. A few tins of custard lined the end. “Anything else we need, lads?”

”Condoms? Niiiiiice~” Jess smirked, scooting by Mal. ”Planning on banging one of us, Mally?” As she skidded by, she tossed a pack of fake nails into her cart as a last minute impulsive buy.

”We’ve got food, basic necessities, entertainment, emergency shit…” Aiden mentally went through everything in their carts and what they would probably need on their journey with a wry smirk. ”And a lot of extra things we don’t need, eh Jess? Slut pills, really? You don’t need ‘em.”

”I don’t, but you do. King agrees with me too!”

”I don’t need these to get laid. I’m hot — but you already knew that.” Aiden winked before pushing his cart through. ”Astrid, you wanna put all of that in my cart?”

---

Eventually, everyone got their purchases through (with thanks to the very overwhelmed cashier, poor boy), and racked up quite a bill. Their receipts were probably over a mile long. There had been some skeptical comments regarding whether they actually needed everything they had bought and whether everything would fit into the van. But after shifting and cramming, everything seemed to fit in nicely.

”Anything else guys? Last minute things you want to grab from home, anything you forgot to buy?”

Nope.

They were ready.

★ Wanderlust ★

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"Let's just meet up at Philips' place. It'll be easier that way."

King had lingered in the doorway after letting everyone know the plan, hand tight around the strap of his hastily filled back pack. The foyer was no longer pristine and homely and fake-- it was ruined. Glassware and wood chips cluttered the tiled floor, piling high and dusty in the midday sunlight that streamed through the thin windows beside him, holes sat darkly in walls, and the study smelled of smoke and betrayal. King took it all in and his knuckles turned white and his lip began to bleed sluggishly as he worried and worried at it with his top teeth. They shouldn't have done this. They'll be killed or worse, and King would undoubtedly blame himself because he let it happen without thinking. And then again, he may never see this place again. He was running away, from this house, and this town, and all the problems that came with it.

King felt his back ache. His free hand fell down to close against the Zippo in his back pocket again. The metal was warm with overuse, and the words engraved were dug far enough into the palm of his hand to leave indentations. He drew it out to read the Latin again, and again, and again. The words were a mantra that calmed his never ending anxiety, even if their true meaning was nothing to him as of yet.

Si vis pacem, para bellum

He left the door ajar when he went. The shadow of an excuse, the only thing he could think to do to shift blame if it was at all possible now. The door was open and King was distressed and hopeful and the world was now against him. If he believed in God he would be praying for safety and comfort and guidance, but he didn't so instead his eyes turned to the backs of his companions and he prayed to them, for them.

---

"Jesus F. Christ, Philips, this place is fucking huge." King didn't like to look impressed, especially when it came to things about Aiden Philips. He hadn't liked the other blonde ever, probably, looking back on it all as his hand glided over the back of a chilled and shiny car. Their families had always had a strenuous relationship, best described as work rivals, and even if King wasn't a fan of his own family he couldn't help but feel obliged to hate the Philips as well. Aiden could probably be considered collateral that was taken too far, or maybe an outlet for King's frustrations, but in the end he couldn't exactly change the distaste he had for the other boy. So, he fought off his wide eyed stare as he glanced around the garage and the few cars within.

Idly, King wandered over to the counter beyond the cars and allowed his hand to drift over the surface. The books and toolkit laying just beneath his fingertips attracted him and his sudden roguish ways, and after he scooped up the toolkit with one empty hand he turned to jut a thumb towards the rest of the garage. "I'm taking this with us. Anyway, where's the van?" His eyes fanned out around the space, keenly glaring into the shadows at a lumpy tarp hidden beyond, "Back there?"