Qia

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Interactions: Cass-@Lu}

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Elara turned at the sound of the hesitant voice, her silver hair catching the light and shimmering like moonbeams as she faced the newcomer. The woman before her seemed nervous, her hands fidgeting incessantly, and her eyes darting around the crowd as if seeking an escape. Elara’s heart softened at the sight, and she offered a gentle smile, hoping to put the blightborn woman at ease. It didn’t matter to her that her appearance was so…strange. If anything, the silver-haired woman, like with Pleiades, was more curious than nervous.

As Elara really took in the sight of Cassandra, she couldn’t help but be struck by her distinctive appearance. The mushroom-like features and delicate quality of her skin marked her unmistakably as a blightborn. This was only her third encounter with one like this, and each one had been strikingly different, leaving an indelible impression on her. The red and white mushroom cap that adorned Cassandra’s head, the patchy-looking skin that seemed almost translucent, and the serene expression on her face all added to her otherworldly and contrasting presence.

“Hello, Cassandra or Cass,” Elara greeted, an airy laugh slipping between her lips like a soft breeze, “I’m Elara.” She tilted her head to the side, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder in a shimmering waterfall as she pursed her lips thoughtfully. The name felt familiar on her tongue, as if she had known Cassandra for ages, even though they had just met. She wondered, briefly, what the mushrooms had to do with Cassandra’s abilities, her mind swirling with possibilities. The red and white mushroom cap atop her head seemed almost regal, afterall, a crown of nature’s own design.

“There’s supposed to be an announcement today by the royal family,” Elara continued. “They should be here any minute now.”

Realms of Sun & Shadow

The waning gibbous moon clung stubbornly to the horizon, its pale light barely piercing the thick shroud of clouds. Elara stood off to the side of the slowly building crowd in the town square, the crisp morning air nipping at her cheeks like playful sprites. A gentle breeze whispered secrets through the trees, making the leaves dance and carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread from the inn. It was 10 am, yet the sky held a twilight hue, casting an ethereal glow over the gathered townspeople. She watched their breath, little puffs of mist in the cool air, as they murmured in anticipation.

Elara’s heart quickened, each beat resonating with the palpable excitement that buzzed around her. She clutched her cloak tighter, knowing that the biggest announcement was already a whisper her ears had heard before yet still…still she couldn’t quite believe everything she’d been told.

Elara’s heart ached with worry for her princess. Since returning from her walk earlier that morning, she hadn’t managed to speak with her, the cabin unusually empty. If she were honest, it was also because she had buried herself in her duties as a handmaiden, a convenient distraction from the gnawing guilt that had consumed her still. She’d busied herself with the familiar tasks—polishing the silver, arranging the princess’s gowns, and tending to the hearth—each action a small comfort in its routine. But beneath the surface, the guilt still churned within her mind.

The guilt had only dulled a little later, thanks to remembering Sunni’s words. A small smile had almost naturally appeared on her lips at the time. Even now, as she stood beside the crowd, the same smile crept onto her face, unbidden. She could almost hear Sunni’s voice, weaving the tale of Enu, the resilient desert fox, and the wisdom imparted by the tortoise. The memory was a balm, soothing the edges of her worry.

But now was not the time for reminiscing. Elara shook her head, dispelling the warmth of the memory. Her gaze shifted, refocusing on the awaiting stage as she prepared herself for whatever lay ahead.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Myotis Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.038: Gulls Just Wanna Have Fun

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_{Interaction(s): Haven-@Skai, Aurora @Melissa, Amma @Rockette}

Previously: Infallible

This was the most awkward they had ever been.

Harper kept her eyes forward, her steps measured as she and Haven walked side by side toward Aurora’s dorm. The silence between them felt thicker than usual, with each footstep punctuating the tension. Occasionally, the brunette glanced at Haven from the corner of her eye, wondering if she felt the same heavy cloud hanging over them. The air seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. Despite the quiet, their unspoken thoughts seemed to echo loudly in the space between them.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They had shared countless sweet moments, filled with easy chatter and comfortable silences. But now, after what had happened with Sierra earlier, Harper felt the weight of everything she didn’t say—everything she couldn’t say—like a boulder pressing down on her chest. The liquid courage in her hand wasn’t helping much either. Each sip of the drink only served to magnify the silence, making the unstated words in her head feel leaden.

As they neared Aurora’s door, Harper’s eyes drifted downward, settling on the red dress draped over her other arm, protected by a layer of plastic. The vibrant fabric was smooth and elegant, its striking red colour a sharp contrast to her current feelings. Each step brought her closer to the moment she dreaded—the moment she would have to put on this dress and face everyone. It was meant to make her stand out, to command attention at the dance, a role she’d never felt comfortable in. It felt like an unwanted spotlight she was about to step into, one that would reveal a side of her even she wasn’t familiar with.

Knocking on the door, Harper cleared her throat, forcing a casual tone. “So… I’m guessing Rory’s going to pick you up here after we’re done?” The words felt strange on her tongue, almost foreign, as if she were speaking someone else’s thoughts. It was funny how her mind had grasped that as the necessary topic of conversation, her nosiness a safe harbour to which she always returned. Yet, a part of her was genuinely curious about who Haven was going with, especially given the winged girl’s little escapade with their teammate before the trials. Harper, of course, had not forgotten about it; the memory lingered like a stubborn shadow that would always be a part of her.

“I’m meeting him downstairs,” Haven began with a tone just as casual as her companion’s as she moved into the space beside the door, her shoulder resting against the wall. Her right arm was tucked into her ribs, resting her hand under her left as it adjusted the bag’s strap on her shoulder. She could feel the liquor’s warmth resting in her stomach where her anger had burned earlier, its presence in her bloodstream already working to relax the muscles in her shoulders and back. Her thoughts, once a storm of unspoken questions and fleeting confrontational urges as the pair walked between the dorms, had already quieted into distant thunder in her mind.

There was no sign of tension in her words or body language as she looked into the hazel eyes across from her, yet to the brunette’s keen eyes it was obvious that the usual warmth that radiated from the winged woman was lukewarm at best. A shadow of her usual affection towards someone she once thought to be like a sister to her, even if that familial connection had only been present since they’d carried each other out of the trials.

She smiled, yet the dimples that graced her cheeks hardly left a depression on her skin. “It’s our first date together, but we talked about taking things seriously yesterday before I met with you all.” Before she was discharged from the hospital, even. “So I guess I can say that I’m going with my boyfriend now.” Her smile grew with the words, dimples deepening, her inhibitions melting away as she talked about the dark-haired man who made her heart flutter. “It’s strange saying it out loud, but it feels right.”

As Haven responded, her attempt at normalcy was met with Harper’s mixed emotions. The casual mention of Rory being Haven’s boyfriend felt like a double-edged sword. On one hand, it was a small relief to hear Haven talk about Rory with such genuine affection. On the other hand, it underscored the awkwardness that had settled between them, a chasm that seemed to widen with every passing moment. She couldn’t shake the feeling that their friendship was shifting, and not necessarily for the better.

Harper offered a small, tentative smile, her lips curving up just enough to show she was trying. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling good about it. It’s nice to hear you’re happy.” Her voice was soft, more sincere than it had been moments before, the words carrying genuine emotion. She wanted Haven to know that despite everything, she truly cared about her happiness. “I guess we’ll both have quite the night ahead of us.” There was more she wished to say about this, the only question was how.

Haven’s ears picked up on the shift in Harper’s voice. It was a relief that her own admission had eased some of the other’s worries, enough for Harper to be earnest about one topic this evening at least. Maybe there was hope that they could get over the tension left in Sierra’s wake, with or without the liquor bottle, with conversation that could distract them from it. Plus the phrasing of her words sparked a curiosity within Haven that could easily be quenched. The question being something light and, dare she say it, normal to ask.

“Are you… going with anyone?”

Harper paused for a moment, the question hanging in the air between them. She opened her mouth to respond, but just as the name was about to leave her lips, the door to Aurora’s dorm swung open. The sudden movement startled her, breaking the delicate suspense that had built up with her hesitation.

Bright blue eyes and a warm smile greeted them as Blackjack’s resident redhead finally answered the door, most of her head curled while a few final strands were still in their natural state.

“Sorry, I was just finishing up my hair, come on in,” Aurora greeted, stepping back to allow enough berth for the two girls to enter and closing the door behind them. She opened the hall closet, shifting around the jackets and coats already there to make ample space. “You guys can hang your dresses here until you’re ready to put them on, I also have a steamer if either of you need it,” She instructed before walking into the kitchen area and motioning to the refrigerator, “Help yourself to whatever, there are some drinks on the upper shelf, and you can put your things on the table.” She nodded to the kitchen table where her roommate’s makeup mirrors had been set up for them to use.

“I just need to finish up these last couple of pieces, but make yourselves comfortable,” The redhead quickly walked back to the bathroom, not wanting to leave her curling iron unattended for too long, but left the door open so she could still converse with Haven and Harper. “So girls, are we excited?”

Harper forced a smile as she pondered her reply, her lips curving up in an attempt to mask her disquietude. She didn't dislike the idea of the dance—it was just that everything around it felt overwhelming, like layers of expectation she wasn’t sure she could meet.

“Excited? Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she said, her voice light but lacking genuine enthusiasm. The words felt like they were sliding through her fingers, insubstantial and hollow. “It’s a chance to just relax and enjoy the night, at least,” Harper added regardless, shifting the bottle to the same hand with her dress and moving to hang it in the closet. She turned to glance at Haven, who was still holding onto her dress, and gestured for her to hand it over. “I’ll hang that up for you,” she offered.

“Oh- thanks,” Haven murmured as she turned herself from where she lingered by the doorway. She lifted the satin from her arm as she held it in Harper’s direction, offering a brief, yet grateful smile her way. “I’ll trade you for the bottle.”

Her head turned towards the living space again as she pulled the strap of her duffle off her shoulder, the traded liquor clutched carefully in her free hand. She didn’t waste time moving further into the cozy space, her eyes glancing over each cutesy decoration that Aurora and her roommates had placed to make the dorm feel like a home. It was a stark contrast to the sparse living area that she and her roommates shared, and certainly more feminine than Rory and Lorcán’s dorm.

Her duffle was unceremoniously dumped on a chair at the table, and then the booze was placed next to the mirror as she continued to make herself as comfortable as she could get. “I’m ready to let loose and have some fun tonight, for sure.” She was already opening the door to the fridge as she answered Aurora’s earlier question, inspecting the various drinks set on the top shelf inside. “Is anyone interested in a cocktail, or should we just choose a chaser for ourselves?” Her head ducked below the door for a moment, wings tucking in so that they wouldn’t graze the appliance, before she stood upright with a bottle of juice in her hand. She called out over her wing where it rested itself behind her shoulder once more. “We should at least have one shot together before we go, right? It’s not often we get together like this.”

She stood outside the door, head canted down and to one side, lashes panned low as the murmur of voices fled through the door and fell muffled over her ears. It is such a temporal thing to be a young woman donned on daring golds and blacks, a shimmering vanity in the highlighting of dramatic poise and intention, garbed in the simplicity of wide-legged pants in gray and a cropped blouse of a similar hue that draped to her shoulders. The erratic temper of her emotions flitted to and fro as plumes of scarlet pulsated through the flutter of her lashes, and a storm banked to the fringes of the sea lost within her eyes. Amma held her dress and shoes in one hand, carefully situated over her forearm, and in her opposite gesture, she hoisted a black case, matte black and clasped in brass. Was it even more of a mundane occurrence to be compelled to bring her cosmetics with her and styling tools carefully tucked within? A creature of vanity she was, and never without embellishment of some sort to accentuate her sensual debut, the power of dark lips eternal that bent the knees of men. Amma carefully knocked, knuckles sharp against the wood before it opened upon silence, her gaze quick and pointing, intentional in the pass she made over the girls with an intensity befitting her usual candor.

Haven may have invited her, but did that make her welcome as one of Blackjack's fairer members?

She caught the ending of the former's suggestion, and a slow tremor wound through her limbs as she stepped further into the room, hung her dress where she noticed others had been placed and her heels beneath it, and broke the subtle tension that wound around each of them and said:

"Make it a double. It has already been a long day, and the night is just starting."

Amma’s entrance was simply greeted with a nod from the winged woman as Haven moved from the fridge to search for cups in the cabinets.

“Come on over, then.”

After carefully hanging up Haven’s dress alongside hers, Harper turned her attention to Amma. The gold and black makeup was the first thing she noted. It seemed to transform the other woman, giving her an air of sophistication and mystery, different from before. Harper marvelled at the precision and artistry, each stroke of colour enhancing Amma’s features boldly and beautifully. She felt a pang of envy, wishing she could embody even a fraction of that confidence.

Whether in the shadows or out in the open, Amma’s presence was undeniably captivating.

“I like your eyes,” Harper commented easily, only realizing the awkwardness of her words after they slipped past her lips. As soon as she spoke, a flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. “Your makeup…it looks…nice,” she added, trying to recover. Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words to convey her admiration. Yet, despite her efforts, she couldn’t quite shake her old bashfulness.

Amma didn’t hesitate, more so to make herself perhaps a little less threatening and to convince herself to be more at ease, her earlier struggles and sorrows writhing just under her facade, a subtle quake within her fingers as she set her cosmetic case aside and moved closer to Haven. Harper’s voice carefully slid through her ears, fading into the backdrop before Amma turned, a smile easily punctuating her features that was both darling and appreciative. But there was an edge there, a bite to her unspooling words that carried a feral edge.

“Have to make some kind of impression out there on the dance floor,” she gestured vaguely to her eyes, noting the delicate sweeps of black on Harper’s expression, the striking depths of her all-knowing gaze accentuated by the flutter flashes and subtle edges of colors smoked out onto her eyelids. “I like yours too, I brought some of my things just in case.”

“Thanks,”Harper replied, her voice tinged with a hint of appreciation. A blush dotted her cheeks, emphasizing her freckles for a moment. The warmth of the compliment lingered, making her feel a bit more at ease. She cleared her throat to center herself. Then, she headed towards the bathroom where Aurora was finishing up her hair.

Haven had moved with a casual air between the kitchen counter and table as she grabbed the bottle of booze, keeping her focus on the idea of being the bartender as she listened to Harper and Amma speak to each other. The rustling of feathers and soft steps she took was the only sound she made as she allowed the girls to have a moment together.

“What are we shooting, anyways?” Being a known wine drinker, liquor was lost upon her preference, but Amma made herself comfortable, as much as she could to dispel the unease that still bunched her shoulders.

Gold and green peered through brown lashes, looking over the dark-haired woman’s body language as Amma joined her at the kitchen counter. The tension that coiled in the muscles beneath the other’s pale skin was something Haven recognized easily. A reflex that seemed as natural to Amma as it was to Haven herself. Still, her hand stayed busy pouring a generous amount into each cup. She was doing her best to count out the difference between one shot and two, but currently, she figured a little extra wouldn’t hurt. As she finished the second pour she found herself taking a measured breath as she thought of her response.

“I grabbed the first bottle I recognized, really. Something cheap, but not entirely disgusting.” Her hands took each glass into the air, one stretching out in Amma’s direction as she finally turned to peer into those troubled deep blues. The smile that graced her features was empathetic as she held her own glass at eye level in a small toast.

“It might burn going down, but after a few, we won’t even feel it. So cheers.”

The bathroom was filled with the faint scent of hairspray and the gentle hum of the curling iron, creating a soothing backdrop to the evening’s preparations. Harper watched as Aurora expertly twisted the last few sections of her hair around the hot barrel, each curl forming perfectly. The rhythmic motion was almost hypnotic. It provided a small slice of normalcy in an otherwise strange evening thus far.

“Hey, just checking in,” Harper said, knocking on the door’s frame to announce her presence.

Aurora let the final curl drop from the iron, holding it delicately in her hand for a few moments to allow it to set before letting it fall against her back. Examining her hair in the mirror and satisfied with the results, she reached and unplugged the tool, resting it on the granite countertop to cool down. Her sapphire eyes met Harper’s before she motioned to her head.

“Does it look okay?” She asked, before turning back and gazing at her own reflection, inspecting her handiwork. “I can brush them out if we think they’re a bit too tight, but I tried to do something in between.”

Harper studied Aurora’s reflection, admiring the carefully styled curls. Each curl fell perfectly into place, framing Aurora’s face with a soft elegance. There was a wistful quality in the way Aurora examined her own work, as if seeking reassurance from the mirror. Harper understood that feeling all too well-the need for everything to be just right. It often meant second-guessing yourself at every turn, a sentiment Harper knew intimately.

“They look great, Aurora,” Harper assured her with a small, sincere smile. Her words were meant to be a balm, easing the uncertainty she saw in Aurora’s eyes. “The curls are perfect—not too tight, just enough to give you that soft, effortless look.” Harper paused, noticing the way Aurora’s fingers hovered near her hair, ready to make adjustments. “Besides, I think they suit you. It’s… you, but with a little extra something.”

“Okay good, I think I’m going to pin a few pieces back like Tori did yesterday, but I’ll do that before I leave,” She exhaled a sigh of relief and looking back at Harper, she smiled widely, “Thanks, Harps. Now that’s taken care of, time to get myself a drink. God knows I’ll need it,” The redhead expressed candidly, ushering her brunette friend back into the living area and finding herself face-to-face with…

“Amma,” She stated, swallowing, struggling not to be awkward. The raven-haired girl looked devastatingly beautiful, her locks styled effortlessly and her makeup near perfect. Just taking in her appearance made Aurora’s heart sink. No wonder Lorcán wasn’t interested in her when he could have someone like the vixen that currently stood in front of her. It made complete sense.

Amma dragged her fingers against the pout of her lip, a slight twitch to her features with the first shot down, burning away through her throat and lashes fluttering at the taste before her gaze focused and landed on Aurora. They doubled in intensity, an unspoken tremor that flitted through the abyss betwixt them; the last time they had spoken, each had revealed pieces of their hearts that lay pulsating as burdened organs of simplistic wants: to love and be loved in return.

She carefully handed her glass back to Haven, motioning for another because Hell below knew she needed it to smother her emotions under a blanket of blissful, alcohol-induced fog.

The glass was taken quickly, set down on the counter beside Haven’s own empty vessel as her feathers settled. The double shot had packed more of a punch to it than the swigs she’d taken earlier, ruffling the feathers on her wings as she had grimaced with the burning in her throat. She busied herself with finding two more for the others as their generous host rejoined them in the living area, yet her ears listened to the potentially tense moment behind her with subtle interest.

“Aurora,” Amma answered swiftly, her piercing blue eyes flickering down and then back up. “I like what you did with your hair; it suits you.” It was some sort of olive branch extended to dispel that unease as warmth spread down through her limbs.

The tension in the air seemed palpable, but an unspoken understanding also hung between the two girls as a result of their previous interaction. No matter what was, or was not, going on between Amma and Lorcán, Aurora knew that she couldn’t hold it against her. After all, she continued to remind herself, they just wanted the same thing.

“Thank you,” She replied, a small smile gracing her lips, appreciative of the compliment. The girl walked towards the refrigerator, grabbing a seltzer from the top shelf before returning to the center of the common area. “Your eye makeup looks amazing, I don’t think I could ever get mine to look that good.” Aurora had applied light makeup, cosmetics not her strong suit as her learnings were gathered from videos and her roommates. By the time she was old enough to use them, she didn’t have anyone to guide her through the process.

Amma hummed a soft “Thank you,” having turned to face Haven, but not before she mirrored her delicate smile.

“Alright, gorgeous ladies of Blackjack,” Haven gently interrupted the moment as she turned away from her drink station. Her lips curved into a smile that promised mischief as she presented what she carried in front of her. In her hands she cradled shots for each of them, with a double in the glass meant for Amma as requested a second time. She kept her gaze on what she carried to ensure they wouldn’t tip over as she delicately began to move around them.

“It’s been a long week for all of us, and we’re down Calli and Katja, but let’s get the night started right.”

With the ice between Amma and Aurora already thawing with their sweet moment, and despite the words unspoken that still lingered between herself and her brunette friend, Haven was determined to move past any residual uneasiness with a communal drink. She approached each of her friends with a glint in her eyes, placing each shot into their hand whether they wanted it or not. Although she was pretty sure they wanted the social lubrication.

Happy dimples appeared on her cheeks as she returned to her spot at the counter and picked up her own single like Harper and Aurora. It was mindful of her to slow herself down after the double, otherwise she’d be drunk before they left the dorm. “Each of you is going to be stunning in your dress.” She said as she turned to face them all again. The shot remained in her hand as she waited for the others to share in it with her. “Blackjack is going to be the best dressed of the night.”

As Harper accepted the shot from Haven with a small nod, her eyes scanned the room, taking in the intricate dynamics at play. She noticed the thawing awkwardness between Aurora and Amma, the playful determination in Haven’s eyes, and the undercurrent of excitement that buzzed just beneath the surface. The weight of the night ahead was palpable, filled with unsaid expectations that each of them carried. It all gave her the sense that the dance wasn’t just going to be a social event; it was a stage where each of them would have to navigate their own insecurities, desires, and fears.

Or perhaps that was just the alcohol fooling her into believing that this was all a prelude to something significant.

Harper raised her glass, her voice steady and clear as she joined the toast. “To Blackjack,” she declared, her tone carrying both pride and quiet resolve. “No matter what happens tonight, we’ve got each other’s backs. Always.” It might have sounded a little cheesy, but it was no less true given everything they’d been through.

Aurora reluctantly took the glass, cautiously peering at the clear liquor. She hadn’t been planning on taking any shots that evening, after all, she didn’t want to get too drunk and make a fool of herself. But one wouldn’t hurt, right? In fact, it was probably better for her to loosen up and get a little buzz going before she faced what was awaiting her at the dance. So, she raised the glass alongside her friends.

“To Blackjack,” The redhead repeated, “Here’s to us having a fun night, we definitely need it.” Clinking her glass against the others, she tipped her head back, letting the liquid burn down her throat. She coughed out of instinct, quickly chasing the strong taste with the juice, but grimacing nonetheless. Her face contorted, instantly regretting taking the shot, but after a few moments the pain subsided and all was well. Aurora exhaled deeply, setting the empty glass down on the table. “Okay, one and done. I definitely don’t need another.”

Amma’s thoughts are an uncoiling mass with threaded emotions of uncertainty; she almost feels out of place, the liquor burning and sliding down her throat, more manageable than the first, only this time, her facial expressions do not budge. She’s almost inevitable for another with the pleasant flush that sweeps betwixt her ribs and plummets low into her belly; a darling smile—the finest touches of melancholy there—blooms across her face as she mutters, almost as an afterthought.

“To… Blackjack.”

While Harper’s words may have carried on Haven’s plucky spirit in the others, the winged woman herself found them bittersweet. Her eyes cast themselves down onto her glass where she now wished she’d poured that double. The indication that Harper had their backs was made in good spirit, and yet she couldn’t help but remember the way that Harper had defended her visiting friend despite her insulting mannerisms. The glass lifted to her lips quickly before her faltering joy could be noticed, tossing it back to allow the warmth of it to settle her mind once more. She wasn’t going to let one moment get the better of their evening. Especially now that they all seemed to be getting along better than they ever had.

“To our team,” Haven spoke as she wiped at the loose droplet on the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. She took a breath, her mind buzzing enough from the drinks to quiet any further discouraging thoughts, and when she looked at the women gathered around her once more she bore a sheepish grin.

“So…do any of you want to help me with my hair? And maybe my makeup too? I really want to see Rory’s jaw drop tonight.”

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

A

_{Mentions: VV-@Estylwen}

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A’s heart dropped into her stomach as Vin’s man grabbed her and pulled her in front of him. The rough grip of their hands on her arms sent a jolt of pain through her, but she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The realization that she was being used as a human shield sent a wave of fear through her, but she forced herself to stay calm. She couldn’t afford to show weakness now, not when so much was at stake. Her mind raced, trying to formulate a plan even as her body trembled with adrenaline.

She glanced at VV, who was watching in horror and gave her a subtle nod, trying to convey that she was okay. VV’s eyes were wide with fear, but A hoped her gesture would provide some reassurance. A’s mind raced, assessing the situation with a clarity born of desperation. She could sense the pulsing hearts of Vin’s men around them, their adrenaline spiking as the tension mounted. The strange rush of blood from the massive Wild and the hidden heartbeat added to the complexity of their predicament, making her head spin.

Stay calm, she thought to herself, the words like a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep her thoughts clear and focused. She needed to think clearly and find a way out of this. Every second counted, and she couldn’t afford to let fear cloud her judgment. Her eyes scanned around herself, searching for any possible escape route or advantage.

Vin’s voice boomed as he yelled at Izaac, threatening to blow up the building. The sheer volume of his rage was like a physical blow, making her flinch involuntarily. A’s eyes darted to the building, trying to catch a glimpse of her potential ally, hoping against hope that they were on the same side.

She did not have to wait for long as this person stepped out, apparently—and thankfully—not willing to take the shot with her there. Relief washed over her, but it was fleeting, replaced quickly by a renewed sense of urgency. She watched the exchange between him and Vin, her heart pounding in her chest. Every word, every gesture was a potential trigger for disaster.

What A did not expect, however, was for that danger to come in the form of the Wild’s sudden rush towards the building sending a wave of panic through the group. Vin’s men shouted in alarm, their weapons trained on the massive creature. A could sense the pulsing hearts of the men around her, their adrenaline spiking as the situation escalated.

But the moment also offered her something important. A chance.

While Vin’s attention was momentarily diverted by the Wild’s attack, A focused her energy, using her Hemorrhage ability to create a distraction. She locked eyes with one of Vin’s men, the one holding her, and concentrated. She could feel the blood flow in his body, the pulse of his heart. With a surge of effort, she triggered a nosebleed, causing him to stagger back in surprise and loosen his grip on her.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@Estylwen oh thank you haha

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

Yes same here. Aiming to get a reply out tomorrow hopefully

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Harper wandered through the hallway, her footsteps soft against the hardwood, each step a gentle tap in the quiet. The house was still, the kind of stillness that made her feel like she was the only one awake in the world, though the sun hadn’t yet dipped to put itself to sleep. The shadows in the corners seemed to stretch and yawn as if they too were waiting for the coolness of night. It was a sweltering summer evening, and the idea of a cool, sweet dessert made her mouth water, a small joy that seemed just within reach. So, she’d gone in search of something simple, an innocent treat—ice cream, a delightful thought that made her smile.

She could almost taste the creamy sweetness, feel the coldness on her tongue, a sensation that promised a brief escape from the heat. The air was thick and stifling, clinging to her skin like a damp cloth, making each step feel like a small victory. Her mind was filled with the anticipation of that first bite, the way the ice cream would melt slowly, leaving a trail of sweetness. The kitchen seemed like a world away, however, a distant land where her simple wish could come true.

But all the 13-year-old girl needed to do to get what she wanted was reach the kitchen.

As Harper reached the end of the hallway, the sound of muffled voices pulled her out of her daydream. She paused, her hand hovering over the door frame, the voices tugging at her curiosity like an invisible thread. They were coming from the living room, low and urgent, and she recognized them immediately—her father and Sierra. It wasn’t often that they argued, but when they did, it was usually over something serious, something that made the air feel heavy.

She hesitated, torn between continuing her innocent quest for ice cream and the instinct to eavesdrop. The tension in their voices was palpable, even through the slightly ajar door, and Harper’s heart began to beat faster, each thump echoing in her ears. She inched closer, careful not to make a sound, as if the quiet of the hallway would protect her from whatever was happening on the other side. The cool promise of ice cream seemed to fade, replaced by the urgent need to understand what was causing the discord. Her breath caught in her throat as she strained to hear, the hallway suddenly feeling like a fragile bridge between her world and theirs.

Suddenly, the argument escalated, the tension in the air snapping like a taut wire. Sierra’s voice, sharp with frustration, cut through the air, each word a dagger that seemed to pierce the stillness. Harper’s breath caught as she heard Sierra’s biting words, each one laced with a venom that made her shiver. “You’re not fooling anyone, old man! What, did you think you could just replace us with a new freak family? You’re just a big fucking liar and—”

Their father’s deep, authoritative rumble interrupted, his tone carrying the weight of absoluteness. “Now you watch your tone with me, young lady. This ain’t your concern. What’s done is done, and we don’t talk about it again.” His voice was like a wall, firm and unyielding, a command that brooked no argument. It made Harper grip the doorframe tighter, for she knew exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of that commanding voice.

Yet somehow…somehow this time was different.

Sierra’s voice cracked with anger, a raw edge that made Harper’s stomach twist. “Does Harper know about any of this? Maybe I should tell her. Just so she knows what a lying piece of shit you are!” The words were like a slap, each one hitting Harper with a force that left her reeling. What did she mean by that? What did she not know?

As if in answer to her question, the sound of something shattering on the floor reached her ears, a sharp, jarring noise that made Harper’s heart race. It sent a shockwave of fear through her, and she flinched, her small hands clutching the doorframe, the wood cool and solid under her trembling fingers. Her curiosity battled with a growing sense of dread, each emotion pulling her in opposite directions. She peeked around the corner, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to make sense of the scene unfolding before her.

In the next moment, Harper saw her father’s hand connect with Sierra’s cheek, the slap echoing with a harsh finality. Sierra stumbled back, her hand flying to her face as tears welled up in her eyes, the shock and pain evident in her expression. Harper’s heart lurched, disbelief flooding her senses. She felt frozen, her small frame pressed against the doorframe, unable to tear her eyes away.

Her father had never struck them before, the very sight of it bringing up memories of that night. Her terrifying nightmare.

Sierra’s eyes were wide with hurt, her cheek already reddening from the impact. The tears that welled up in her eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim light, a silent testament to the pain she felt. Still, Harper could see the defiance in her sister’s gaze, a fire that refused to be extinguished despite the harsh blow. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence weighty and oppressive, as if the very walls were absorbing the intensity of the moment, waiting for the next blow to come. Harper’s own eyes stung with unshed tears, the need to stop whatever this was clamped down. Something told her it would be a terrible idea.

Their father’s controlled voice, cold and unyielding, cut through the air like a blade. “Now, don’t y’all ever use that tone or language with me again. I’m still your daddy, and none of what you think you know changes that.”

And with that, Harper found herself huddling in the nearest corner, her haven, as her sister rushed out of the room, her cheeks now streaked with dampness. She tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible with her small frame, but with no success as Sierra’s eyes met hers for a brief, aching moment, a silent exchange of pain and understanding. But she said nothing and continued down the hall, Harper’s small hands clutching at her knees while her body curled into itself even further.

Eventually, when she could, Harper moved, peeking around the corner once again. She saw her father now bending down to pick up the picture frame that had shattered earlier. She watched as he carefully collected each jagged piece of glass from the floor, his movements slow and deliberate, his expression one of deep weariness. In that quiet moment, he seemed just as broken as the item he attempted to fix.

His paragon of strength painfully human.

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_{Location: Strigidae Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.023: Infallible

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_{Interaction(s): Sierra (Supporting Cast), Haven-@Skai}

Previously: A Heart's Fine Print

Harper sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers gripping the compact mirror tightly as she watched Sierra’s steady hand approach her eye. The room was softly lit, the warm glow from the nearby lamp on her desk casting gentle shadows on their faces, creating an intimate cocoon of light. Harper’s heart raced slightly, nervousness bubbling within her as the eyeliner brush neared her eyelid. The scent of Sierra’s floral perfume wafted through the air, but it did nothing to quell the brunette’s anxiety.

A brush was no scalpel. Yet still her body shook from the memory. The sterile smell of the hospital and the sharp, sterile light all came rushing back.

Harper’s breath hitched, her mind momentarily trapped in the past. She blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the haunting images, focusing instead on the warmth of the room and the comforting presence of her sister. Not the clone she’d killed to survive, to live.

“Hold still, Harper. You keep blinking,” Sierra chided gently, her tone more teasing than annoyed. Harper’s lips twitched into a small smile, trying to focus on a spot on the wall, willing her eyes to remain open. The sensation of the eyeliner brush gliding across her skin sent a delicate tickle through her, one she fought to ignore. All the while, Sierra’s brow remained furrowed in concentration as she perfected the line, and Harper couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for her sister’s patience and skill. Especially the latter, which she lacked.

“Just a little more,” Sierra murmured, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. “You’re doing great.”

Harper could feel the sweat forming on her palms, making the compact mirror slippery in her grasp. She nodded nonetheless, swallowing hard as she fought to keep her eyes still, her lashes fluttering involuntarily with each brushstroke. The effort to remain calm was immense, her muscles tensing with the strain of holding back her fear. She wanted to tell Sierra, to confide in her, to let her know how much this seemingly simple act was costing her. The words hovered on the edge of her lips, but they refused to come out, trapped by the fear of seeming weak, or worse, of reliving the past.

You know, perhaps it’s time those lovely eyes of yours served a better purpose.

A beat.

And then.

The final stroke was made, and Sierra stepped back, examining her work with a critical eye. Harper watched her sister’s face, searching for any hint of doubt or dissatisfaction. And maybe a shade of something else.

“There,” Sierra said with a small, satisfied smile, her eyes lighting up with pride. “All done.”

Harper blinked a few times, feeling the slight weight of the makeup on her eyelids. The sensation was foreign, almost like wearing a mask, a thin veneer that both concealed and revealed parts of herself. She glanced at her reflection in the compact mirror, noting how the delicate lines of eyeliner accentuated her features, giving her eyes a depth that felt both empowering and unsettling. The transformation was striking, yet it couldn’t hide the remnants of fear still lingering in her eyes, a shadow that hadn’t quite left.

“Thanks,” Harper whispered, her voice thick with emotion, each word a struggle to push past the lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure if Sierra noticed the tremor in her tone, but her sister’s smile widened, a beacon of warmth and reassurance. Sierra playfully ruffled Harper’s hair, then stepped away to put the makeup back in its case.

“Don’t mention it. You look great, by the way. You’ll knock ‘em dead at the dance,” Sierra said, a teasing lilt in her voice. Harper tried to absorb her sister’s confidence, but the words felt like they were bouncing off a shield of anxiety. She forced a smile, the muscles in her face feeling stiff and uncooperative.

“I hope so.”

Sierra paused, catching something in Harper’s tone, her brow furrowing slightly. The concern in her sister’s eyes was unmistakable, a silent question that Harper wasn’t ready to answer. But instead of pressing, the redhead offered a reassuring pat on Harper’s shoulder, the warmth of her touch a small comfort. “Just have fun tonight, okay? Embrace your…inner pretty woman.”

Harper blinked.

“You want me to embrace my…inner hooker?”

Sierra burst out laughing, the sound filling the small room. “Okay, maybe not that part. But the confidence, the charm—think of the makeover scene!” She grinned, nudging Harper playfully. “You know, the part where she walks into those stores like she owns the damn place.”

Harper couldn’t help but smile, the tension easing slightly. “I guess that was a pretty good scene,” she admitted, her mind flickering back to the movie night with Aurora. The two had ended up watching not just one but two of her favourite rom coms: Pretty Woman and 13 Going on 30 (mainly for Mark Ruffalo). “She really does nail that whole transformation thing, doesn’t she?”

“Exactly! You don’t have to be a hooker, Harps. Just…own it,” Sierra replied, her tone brimming with encouragement. “ We Baxter women are anything but mediocre. You’ve got more going for you than you think.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harper said, her voice softening, the confidence from moments before slipping away somewhat. “But not everyone who looks strong on the outside really is.” Which was a fragile truth that she had been grappling with since her conversation with Calliopé. Her eyes flickered to the mirror, seeing not just the reflection there but the person she truly was under all the makeup still. The girl the trials had resurfaced.

Sierra caught the shift in Harper’s tone, her playful demeanor fading as concern took its place. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice gentle, probing but not pushing. The question was simple, yet it carried the weight of their shared history, the unspoken understanding that had always existed between them.

“It’s just… I mean, people change, right? Or maybe they were always different than we thought,” Harper began, glancing at Sierra. “Like in the movies—sometimes the person who seems perfect is really hiding something. Better yet, they may not even be the way others see them.”

Sierra’s expression grew more serious, the lighthearted banter from earlier now replaced by a quiet intensity. “We’re not…talking about the movies anymore, are we?”

Harper looked down, her thumb tracing the edge of the compact mirror, the cool metal a grounding presence in her hand. She hesitated, the words thick in her throat, each one a struggle to voice. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot. Well, actually, mainly just Dad.” The admission immediately felt like both a release and a burden. “About how we saw him. How I saw him.” Sierra stayed silent, Harper too afraid to look up to meet her eyes to see why but forcing herself to.

“Maybe we just couldn’t see the cracks…because there was a part of us that didn’t want to.”

Sierra’s hand tightened slightly on Harper’s shoulder, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. “No, Harper,” she said, her voice low and edged with frustration.“You couldn’t see the cracks. But I did. I saw everything, and I protected you from it...like I always have.” Her gaze hardened, her tone more insistent now. “I knew about his secrets. About the things he tried to hide. You were too young, too… sheltered to see it, and I made sure it stayed that way. I didn’t want you to lose that image of him. But I’ve always known who he really was.” She paused, her gaze shifting to Harper’s laptop on the desk then back to her. Her eyes bore into Harper’s, the intensity of her gaze a mirror of the pain she had carried for so long.

“And now you do too.”

Here, her voice dropped to a sad, almost resigned whisper that Harper almost missed, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.

“You’re already so much like him.”

Another beat. The silence stretched.

And then.

Nothing.

Harper wanted to counter that point, to argue that she was different, that she wasn’t destined to repeat their father’s mistakes. But try as she might, the lie wouldn’t come to lips. Even she had thought the same, had seen the similarities in herself that she wished she could deny.

Even now, she’d eagerly accepted betrayal’s hand.

Even now, she embraced it like an old friend she hadn’t seen in some time.

Desperate to escape the suffocating truth, she shifted the subject. The words tumbled out in a rush, a frantic attempt to find solace in the mundane.

“So, will you be there too? The dance?”

Sierra’s expression shifted, momentarily taken aback by Harper’s sudden change of topic. She looked over at Harper’s desk, where her laptop sat plugged in, the screen dark but the power light glowing softly. Then her gaze returned to Harper, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“No, probably not. I’ve got quite a bit of reading to do,” she said. “But you already know that.”

Harper watched as Sierra walked over to the desk and unplugged the charger from the wall, then picked up the laptop. Her sister’s movements were methodical and almost detached, each action precise and devoid of emotion. The room seemed to grow colder with these motions, the warmth of their earlier conversation evaporating into a heavy silence that chilled Harper to her core.

As Sierra turned toward the door, she paused, her eyes lingering on Harper with an intensity that was unsettling. It was as if she was searching for something unsaid, a silent plea for understanding that Harper knew she couldn’t give—at least, not now.

Sierra shook her head slightly, dismissing whatever thoughts had crossed her mind. She opened the door and stood there, her gaze fixed on something outside that Harper couldn’t see from where she was.

“What is it?” Harper asked, rising from her seat and making her way toward the door. The air seemed to thicken around her, the silence pressing in with each step she took. As she reached the doorway, she noticed the gritting of Sierra’s teeth and the frown that deepened on her brow, her expression tight with restrained emotion.

Harper followed her sister’s line of sight and felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

“Oh…hey…Haven.”

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Strigidae Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.021: A Heart's Fine Print

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_{Interaction(s): Sierra (Supporting Cast), Aurora-@Melissa}

Previously: Crossroads

Harper fluffed the pillows on her bed meticulously, her fingers sinking into the soft fabric as she arranged them just right. She smoothed out the blanket, ensuring it was perfectly draped over the bed, creating a nest of comfort. The room was bathed in a warm, inviting glow from the string lights she had artfully, or so she thought, hung around the room. Each tiny bulb twinkled like a star, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls, making the space feel like a cozy haven. Believing she was finished, she took a step back, admiring her handiwork and feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over her.

That sense of satisfaction lasted all of five seconds as she saw a blur of red practically dash beside her, leaping and landing on the bed with a bounce.

“Ugh, finally!” Sierra exclaimed, her voice filled with relief as she tore open a bag of chips from the bowl on Harper’s desk with casual abandon. The crinkle of the bag and the crunch of each bite filled the room, each sound grating on Harper’s nerves. She had worked so hard to create a peaceful, inviting atmosphere, and now it was being shattered by the noisy, boisterous presence of her sister. The sister that she had, admittedly, called upon. But still.

Harper’s usual scowl appeared on her face as she watched Sierra munch away, crumbs scattering on the freshly smoothed blanket. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to the brunette’s ears, frustration building up within in seeing all her efforts being undone in an instant.

“Seriously?” she said, folding her arms across her chest, her voice tinged with exasperation. She glared at the other woman, who seemed completely oblivious to the disruption she was causing. Or perhaps she was simply ignoring her. Either way, she needed to go.

“You know,” Sierra said between bites then, her mouth half-full, “you’re seriously overdoing it. It’s just a movie night, not a royal ball.” She took another chip, chewing thoughtfully. “I mean, look at this spread,” she waved a chip around dramatically, “it’s like you’re hosting a five-star feast. I’d almost think you were trying to impress someone.”

Harper’s scowl deepened. “It is not! And do you mind not messing up everything I just set up, please?”

Sierra shrugged, still munching away. “Oh, come on, Harps. It’s just a bed. I’m sure Aurora won’t care if there’s a crumb or two.”

Harper sighed, her shoulders slumping.“Well, I do. I wanted it to be nice for her.”

Sierra took a final, exaggerated bite and crumpled up the chip bag, tossing it casually aside with a flick of her wrist. The bag landed with a soft thud, adding to the mess that Harper had been so desperate to avoid. All the while, the redhead’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she gave Harper a teasing smile, clearly enjoying the reaction she was provoking.

“You know, my life does not, in fact, revolve around you, baby sister,” she said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Harper’s eyes narrowed as she watched her sister stretch her arms above her head, each movement languid and unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world. The casualness of it all irritated her, her fingers twitching with the urge to straighten the blanket once more. But what could she do, really? Her big sister was always going to be herself, through and through, a trait that Harper found somewhat admirable at times—even envied a little.

This was not one of those times.

“I’m going to go do something less… extravagant now,” Sierra continued.And with that and a mock salute, she got up and sauntered out of the room before Harper could retort, leaving the brunette to deal with the mess and her own simmering frustration.

A girl’s night was exactly what Aurora needed after her rollercoaster of a day.

She was looking forward to having the chance to sit back, relax and not have to put up a front or a smiling facade around her best friend. To simply just live in the moment and be present instead of mulling over things she couldn’t control. Her mind had been riddled by an endless inner monologue since the morning, she’d been hemming and hawing over the decisions she’d made that had brought her to this point, so it was an understatement that she was looking forward to something else to fill the void.

Although the redhead had attempted to get her mind off what had occurred at the infirmary, she’d still instinctively been checking her phone all afternoon, silently hoping that Lorcán’s name would miraculously pop up on the screen, but it didn’t. It seemed he’d made his choice, and that was something she’d be forced to live with. As much as it hurt, she couldn’t be mad at him, and she’d need to learn to be supportive of… whatever was going on with him and Amma.

As Aurora approached the front door of the Strigidae Dorm, she reached to pull the handle in order to enter, but it escaped her grasp as someone exited, nearly plowing into her unintentionally. Quickly side-stepping to avoid a collision, she apologized to the girl who was headed out, her hair a similar shade of crimson to her own. Walking into the dorm, she made the familiar trek up to Harper’s room and knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on her heels as she waited to be let in.

Harper stood in the middle of her room, staring at the remnants of Sierra’s casual mess—the chip crumbs scattered across the blanket and the crumpled chip bag tossed aside. The sight of the disarray gnawed at her, each crumb a tiny reminder of her sister’s carefree intrusion into her life. The warm glow of the string lights, which had once felt inviting and cozy, now seemed almost taunting against the backdrop of her aggravation.

Taking a deep breath, Harper’s hands moved almost automatically as she began to gather the debris, her fingers deftly picking up each crumb. All the while, she muttered to herself, her exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I just wanted to make it nice. I really did,” she whispered, shaking her head. The crumpled chip bag was next, and she tossed it into the trash with a bit more force than necessary. She quickly moved to straighten the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles with precise, deliberate movements.

“I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just-” Harper faltered, her hands freezing in their position on the blanket as her mind became overloaded with all sorts of emotions. Frustration, disappointment, and a touch of sadness swirled within her, each vying for attention. She felt a lump forming in her throat, her carefully constructed composure threatening to crumble.

None of which she could properly process as there came a knock at the door. The sound jolted her out of her spiralling thoughts, her heart skipping a beat. Harper’s hands dropped to her sides, her fingers still tingling from the tension. She stood there for a moment, frozen, before her feet moved forward almost on their own. Reaching for the doorknob, she fixed her facial expression, smoothing out the worry lines and forcing a small, composed smile. Only when she was sure she could maintain this facade did she turn the doorknob and open the door.

“Hey, beautiful,” Harper greeted, her voice carefully light. She stepped aside, allowing her friend to step into the room.

The redhead’s lips tugged up into a soft, sad smile.

“Hey, Harps.” She didn’t hesitate to step forward and wrap her friend in a hug, squeezing tightly. So much had happened since they had last seen each other, and exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, Aurora relaxed almost instantly in her presence. Releasing her hold, she moved into the room and set down her tote bag on a chair, gazing at the string lights and comforting atmosphere that Harper had created. Allowing herself another moment to decompress, the ambiance inviting, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re amazing, you didn’t have to do all this,” She sat down on the bed, running her hands over the soft blankets, “But I can’t even begin to tell you how needed this was,” The redhead flopped back, letting her locks fan out behind her before lifting her arm and pointing to her tote, not bothering to move, “I brought dark chocolate almonds for you, they’re in my bag,”

Harper’s smile warmed at Aurora’s reaction, a genuine sense of relief enveloping her like a comforting blanket. The way Aurora’s eyes lit up at the sight of the comfortable setup made all the effort feel worthwhile, Sierra’s earlier criticism dissipating from her mind. She moved over to the tote bag, her fingers brushing against the fabric as she retrieved her favourite snack, a delighted squeal escaping her lips. The familiar crinkle of the packaging brought a sense of comfort, a small but significant piece of her perfect evening.

“Thanks, Bestie,” Harper said, setting it on the desk with the other snacks, arranging everything just so. “It’s nice to know that some people know how to appreciate another person’s hard work.” Her eyes then lit up with excitement as she turned to grab her laptop from her bedside table, flipping it open with a flourish. She plopped down on the bed beside Aurora, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Clicking her tongue, she allowed her fingers to dance over the keyboard, ready to pull up the list of movie options she had carefully curated. The glow from the laptop screen illuminated her face, highlighting the eagerness in her eyes.

“Ok, so I narrowed our options earlier for movies but….what are you in the mood for?”

Aurora grumbled. It wasn’t that Harper hadn’t picked good movies, because she had. A lot of them were classics that she loved. But what they all had in common was that they were romance movies, and she wasn’t in a lovey-dovey mood in the slightest. In fact, the last thing she wanted to watch was a chick flick. It might have been girl’s night, but the lingering feeling of hearing Lorcán say Amma’s name remained in her gut.

“Don’t hate me, but can you find, like, a comedy or something? Or an action movie?” She pleaded, moving her hands to cover her eyes. “Normally I’d be down for Pride and Prejudice but today I’d prefer to slap Mr. Darcy instead of drool over him.”

Harper’s smile wobbled slightly as she processed Aurora’s request, the unexpected mood shift catching her off guard. She had been so focused on creating the perfect cozy atmosphere that the change in tone felt like a jolt. But she quickly decided to roll with it, determined to keep the evening light and enjoyable. She turned to her laptop, her fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease, pulling up the list of other movie options.

“Got it, comedies and action movies it is,” Harper said. She glanced back at Aurora with a playful grin, hoping to see a spark of amusement in her friend’s eyes. “I mean, who needs to watch a romance when your life is practically one, right?” Her tone was teasing, and her words were meant to draw Aurora's smile. She was fishing, but couldn’t help herself. The curiosity was too strong, and she needed to know how things had gone between her two friends.

“Yeah…” Aurora trailed off, trying her best to maintain her composure. She didn’t want to get upset again, not now, not when tonight was supposed to be a chance to get her mind off everything. But Lorcán was interwoven in every facet of her life and she was slowly coming to realize how obvious her feelings for him must have been over the years. The redhead couldn’t go one conversation without mentioning him in some capacity, at every table she saved him a seat, and even the most mundane things would bring her thoughts back to him.

With a defeated sigh, she sat up, propping her elbows on the bed, her lips settling into a thin line.

“He said her name when he woke up. She was the first person he asked for.”

The room seemed to shrink as Harper slowly processed Aurora’s words, the warm atmosphere suddenly feeling stifling. Her playful grin faltered, replaced by a look of concern and confusion that she couldn’t quite hide. The warmth of the string lights now seemed distant, their glow unable to chase away the sudden chill that settled over her. She had been so sure that everything would go well, that Aurora’s conversation with Lorcán would be a success. So, what in the world was her friend alluding to?

“Oh, Rora…” Harper said softly, trying to find the right words.She placed the laptop to the side, the screen dimming as it was set aside, no longer the focus of the evening. She then shifted from her sitting position, laying down on her back next to her friend.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize things were so complicated. I thought—well, I just thought you were going to tell him how you felt,” Harper continued. She could see the pain in Aurora’s eyes now and wished nothing more than to take it away. But what could she really say here?

Harper shifted, her concern evident as she continued to look at Aurora. “I know it’s hard, but… who is this person he asked for?” She kept her tone gentle, trying to navigate the conversation without adding to Aurora’s distress. On the inside, however, there was only one thought running through her mind on who it might be: Please don’t say Amma.

Aurora took a steadying breath, relaxing her arms and returning to lying back on the mattress. “I was going to tell him, especially because yesterday we were convinced he wasn’t going to make it through the night.” She shuddered, the memory of crying in Lorcán’s room with Cass forever engrained now into her mind. “But I didn’t get the chance, because as soon as he woke up he took my hand,” She lifted her left hand where the ring that Tori had given her sat perfectly on her ring finger, the warm string lights glinting on the etched licks of flame, “And he called me Amma.”

“I teleported right out of there, I couldn’t bring myself to stay.” She let her hand flop back down onto the bed, turning her head to look at her friend. “I feel so fucking stupid, Harps.”

Harper took a moment to compose herself before responding. She was here to help Aurora and, if they were both lucky, to have some level of fun as well. She was not trying to impress anyone. She wasn’t.

“Look,” Harper began, her voice carrying an edge that she didn’t bother to soften. Not this time. She’d decided before her conversation with Haven that she was done playing nice, but now she felt truly done with tiptoeing around the truth. “I get that this is tough, but—” She paused, the words catching in her throat as she thought of Lorcán. The image of him, pale and fragile, smelling of death while lying in that hospital bed haunted her. Cass’s description was all she could rely on, really, given that they hadn’t been allowed to see him. Still, the thought of him lying there, fighting for his life and clinging to any semblance of hope, while those who cared for him could only watch and hope in turn, deeply bothered her.

It was a scene she had imagined countless times, been in countless times.

“—Lorcán just woke up from something life-threatening. He might have been confused or disoriented. If you’d stuck around, you could’ve cleared things up instead of bolting at the first sign of trouble.”

Aurora instantly clocked the shift in her tone of voice, a grit now present that wasn’t previously there, her friend’s words grating against her conscience and the inner turmoil that she had felt all day. Harper hadn’t been there, it had been 4 days of torment watching Lorcán deteriorate, and him waking up this morning and asking for Amma had been the straw to break the camel’s back. Sticking around was easier said than done.

“Cass standing right there and seeing the whole thing as it happened was embarrassing enough, staying would have meant Tori and Aiden feeling sorry for me, and Ripley too,” Aurora explained, her cheeks heating up just thinking about the way that Cass had looked at her with such pity. “Lorcán promised me that night in the tent after our powers mingled and he told me about what happened with Amma, that they were just friends and nothing more. I can’t believe I got my hopes up that he could possibly feel the same way about me that I do about him.”

Harper gritted her teeth, feeling the tension radiate through her jaw. She had seen Aurora struggle with uncertainty for too long, and it pained her to watch her flounder in the dark. She knew that words alone wouldn’t be enough to convey the depth of her conviction.

But she had to try.

“But none of that stuff changes what you mean to him, Rora!” she exclaimed, her voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. Harper could see the doubt in her eyes, the way her friend hesitated to believe in her own worth. It infuriated her that she couldn’t see what was so obvious to everyone else. “If you really want to know what’s going on, you’ll have to talk to him directly. It’s the only way to figure out where you stand with him, instead of always guessing from the sidelines like this.” She wanted to shake the redhead, to make her understand that she couldn’t keep living in this limbo. The cost of her continued inaction was too high, and Harper doubted her ability to pull the other out of the pit of despair it would likely lead to.

Aurora rubbed at her eyes, hoping the motion would soothe the pressure she felt building behind them. “Of course, I still need to talk to him at some point, I just-” She swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat, her anxiety over the situation rising. Her hand moved to run over Harper’s blanket, hoping the sensation of the plush fabric would relax her woes and worries. “I don’t feel sure of anything anymore. All it took was one word and now I’m doubting every interaction we’ve ever had where I thought there was something more.”

“He hasn’t even texted me at all since he was discharged. Kelcey told me she saw him out of the infirmary, and he’s said nothing to me. How do you think that is supposed to make me feel?”

Harper sighed, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “Sometimes, people don’t reach out right away because they’re overwhelmed or unsure of themselves. It doesn’t necessarily reflect how they feel about you or what you mean to them.” She squeezed Aurora’s shoulder gently, trying to offer the reassurance she could.

“It’s frustrating, I get that,” Harper continued, her tone softening but carrying the edge of bluntness she was known for now. “But if you’re waiting for him to come to you, you might be waiting a long time. Sometimes, you have to take the initiative yourself, even if it’s uncomfortable or seems unfair.”

She paused, glancing away as if the words were harder to say than she’d anticipated. “It’s like I told you before…you deserve to be heard, Rora. So, if you care about him and want to know where you stand, you need to tell him. Don’t let your doubts or fears stop you from finding out.”

The wheels in Aurora’s head turned as Harper’s words forced her to reevaluate. She wasn’t wrong, Lorcán was likely overwhelmed with everything that had happened. After all, he had practically been on his deathbed, the boy had enough to process as it was, let alone think to reach out to her. Viewing it from that lens, she knew she definitely wasn’t a priority at the current moment and she was okay with that, it was understandable. But the uneasiness in her gut remained. A few days ago, she had been adamant that she would talk to him upon his recovery, and voice her feelings regardless of whether or not he shared them. But now? Things just seemed so complicated.

But her brunette best friend seemed to know exactly where her mind was going, and she agreed that her woes shouldn’t preclude her from speaking her truth, telling Lorcán just how much she cared about him. She loved him, and that wasn’t changing anytime soon, no matter how anxious the thought of telling him made her. Wordlessly, she looked at Harper and simply nodded, taking everything she said to heart, and agreeing, even if it was difficult to hear.

As she started to plot her next move, she knew there was something key that might put a wrinkle in her plans.

“This is a terrible time to tell you, but if I’m still going to tell Lorcán how I feel, it’s going to need to be after the dance.”

“Because as of this afternoon, I have a date… and it’s not him. Chadwick Patterson asked me.”

Harper’s eyes widened as Aurora’s revelation sank in, her mind racing to catch up with the unexpected twist. For a moment, she simply stared, her mouth slightly agape, as if trying to process the shock that had just been dropped into her lap. Shaking her head in disbelief, the brunette felt a surge of incredulity bubble up inside her. She pushed herself up from her reclining position on the bed, her movements sharp and decisive, as if trying to shake off the surreal feeling.

With a dramatic flair that belied the moment's seriousness, she snatched a pillow from beside her, the soft fabric cool against her fingers. Then, without further ado, she gave Aurora a light, playful whack across the face with it, the pillow making a satisfying thump.

“Seriously, Rora? A date? Now? What on earth are you thinking?” Harper asked, unable to contain a small, disbelieving laugh. Without waiting for a response, her patience being already worn thin by her conversation with Sierra and now this, she dramatically flopped back onto the bed, shoving the same pillow over her face and screaming into it.

Aurora knew what was going to happen next as soon as she saw Harper reach for the pillow, but she couldn’t move fast enough before the plush fabric met her face. A muffled noise escaped her lips upon impact, but she simply resigned to her fate. When the pillow was removed she spoke with an understanding sigh.

“Okay, I deserved that, but what was I supposed to do? Chad overheard me saying to Kelcey that I didn’t have a date, so it’s not like I could lie to his face. No one else asked me, there was no reason for me to say no.” She began to explain but was interrupted by the brunette releasing her own frustration into said pillow, a muted scream audible. The redhead winced at her animated display and her face heated up, instantly feeling self-conscious as a result of her reaction.

When she finally pulled the pillow away, Harper’s face was flushed, and her expression was one of exasperation. “Maybe if you let Chadwick down gently, he might be understanding,” she suggested, though her voice lacked conviction. Even as she said it, Harper knew it was not only a ridiculous suggestion at this point but also a hurtful one. For wasn’t she in a similar situation with Cass? She highly doubted that, in Aurora’s place, he would have taken kindly to something like that if she went through with it.

Besides, Harper was looking forward to going with him. Despite their meeting under weird circumstances, she had enjoyed talking to him, finding an unexpected comfort in his presence. It had been surprisingly…easy, their conversation flowing naturally as if they had known each other for years. Though mainly about a foreboding subject that made her shudder now, there was an undeniable connection there that she couldn’t ignore. Sighing deeply, Harper propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze softened with sympathy.

“I’m not going back on my word, Harps, what’s done is done. Besides, it’s not like Lorcán didn’t have the opportunity.” Aurora reached up and fiddled with her necklace.

“Tori even agreed with me, she said I deserve to have fun and go with a guy who’s willing to ask me. So sure, it might be terrible timing, but this actually might be what I need right now. After everything that’s happened- the Trial, Lorcán’s health scare - I want tomorrow night to be fun, don’t you?”

“Just don’t…settle for him, okay? Have a good time, or try to at least,” Harper replied. Then, hesitating for a moment, she allowed a small, sheepish smile to tug at her lips. “Speaking of dates, I guess I should mention that I’ll be going to the dance with Cass. So…I guess I kinda get it.”

It was now the redhead’s turn to be shocked, her jaw unhinging slightly. She took the pillow, and whacked Harper across the arm, payback.

“Cass as in, Sassy Cassy? Pain in my Cass? That Cass?” Aurora’s eyes bugged out and her brow raised. “Since when?”

But her expression eased as she thought about the side of the blonde boy she’d seen over the past four days. As abrasive and smart-mouthed as he may have been, she’d learned more about him and his emotional capacity throughout their whole ordeal. He’d been charismatic and considerate; made sure she was taking care of herself, had ensured she was getting sleep, shared the burden they all carried. He’d comforted her when she cried, and supported her when things seemed bleak. There were certainly worse people that Harper could be going with…

Aurora dissolved into a small smile, reaching out and taking her friend’s hand in hers.

“That’s exciting, Harps. I’m happy for you.”

“Sassy Cassy? Pain in my Cass?” Harper repeated, shaking her head with a grin that lit up her face.“You’ve got quite the way with nicknames, you know that?” Her laughter was light and infectious, a brief respite from the heaviness that had settled over them. As the words left her lips, her amusement faded into a more genuine, warm smile, one that reached her eyes this time around.

Aurora smirked, a glow returning to her features as they discussed a much less stressful topic, “I came up with the nicknames because I know they annoy him, but as much as I enjoy giving him a hard time, I don’t think I would’ve gotten through this week without him.” She’d known Cass for nearly five years at this point, they’d had their disagreements and she’d always suspected he’d been a bit jealous about how much time Lorcán spent with her instead of him, but recently there was a mutual understanding there. An olive branch, in a way, with senior year looming over their heads. And now, they had their own traumatic experience to further bond over.

“Yeah, that sounds like the Cass I’m going with. The one and only,” Harper said, looking down at their joined hands. “I guess you could say we hit it off. He’s not just a pain though. I’ve actually found him pretty…decent, in his own way.” The words felt like an understatement somehow, despite not knowing the blond very well. There was something about him that intrigued her, something that made her want to dig deeper. Maybe it was because they seemed to share certain similarities, like blunt honesty. Or maybe it was him offering to go to the dance with her despite their abrasive meeting.

Or maybe it was the unpredictability he brought, the challenge he represented. A wildcard.

“He’s right in my comfort zone, at least.”

“Cass is rougher around the edges, but he has a good heart. You guys are going to have a great time together.” Aurora reassured, squeezing Harper’s hand prior to releasing it. “Seems as though we both will need to get all dolled up for the dance tomorrow then. I was going to see if all the girls wanted to come and get ready at my place, if that’d be of interest?”

“That sounds like fun. It’ll be nice to have them around and have things be about…well, everything else for a change.” Harper’s voice faltered here, her head tilting to the side in curiosity. “You do mean…everyone right?” she asked.Regardless of Aurora’s feelings about Amma, the last thing she wanted was to isolate her. It seemed…cruel, and Harper couldn’t bear the thought of anyone feeling left out.

It was evident who Harper was referring to without speaking a name, not just from her body language and facial expression but also from the intonation of her voice. Aurora swallowed, brow furrowed. She had yet to think about Amma’s role in all of this. Lorcán may have said her name upon awakening, but did that mean she should be angry with her? Possibly. After all, the redhead bore her soul to the girl in that infirmary room, disclosing her love and defending it with a passion she didn’t even believe she possessed. But on second thought, she knew she couldn’t be too upset with her. She didn’t owe her anything, she barely knew her.

After all, they wanted the same thing.

So she stood by the words she uttered back in the infirmary: Amma wasn’t a monster.

“Yes, everyone.”

Shaking off her unease, she abandoned the topic, grabbing Harper’s laptop and looking through the curated list of movies with a lighter view.

“On second thought, I wouldn’t mind a rom-com…”

---

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

A

_{Interactions: VV-@Estylwen, D-@WayWard}

---

A stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over her, washing away the grime and tension of the day. She closed her eyes, letting the steam envelop her, but her mind remained alert, replaying the events that had led them here. The surgery room had been cold and sterile, the bright lights glaring down as the workers did their usual. The administrator’s smirk had been unsettling, a silent threat that lingered in her thoughts. What she wanted from them or else. Or else end up like Pia and the others.

She resisted a shudder, drying off and slipping into the new skin suit. Right then and there, A made a decision. The snug fit of the suit seemed to bolster her resolve, reminding her of the protection it offered. She needed to gather more information about their mission and the true intentions of Umbra Corp. The thought of being in the dark, manipulated by unseen hands, was intolerable. She would have to be cautious, but she couldn’t afford to be passive any longer; action was necessary.

As she rejoined VV and D, A’s mind was already working on a plan. She scanned the room, noting every detail, every potential source of information. She would keep her eyes and ears open, looking for any clues or opportunities to learn more about their situation. And if the chance arose, she would find a way to communicate with her fellow test subjects, subtly coordinating their efforts.

Or so she thought….how naive.

They were like floating insects. Floating insects in space.

The vast expanse of stars and distant planets stretched out before her, a breathtaking and daunting sight that made her feel both insignificant and awestruck. She had always assumed they were underground, like VV had, confined to the sterile, cold facility with its harsh lights and clinical walls. The revelation that they were in space was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, shaking the very foundation of her understanding. Her mind raced, grappling with the implications of this new reality, as the beauty and vastness of the cosmos enveloped her.

“We’re in space,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else as she entered the escape pod.

---

The pod’s descent had been smooth but tense.

A’s heart pounded as the emergency red lights flickered on and the escape pod’s overhead hatch opened. The suffocating density of dust in the air hit her immediately, and she quickly pulled out her rebreather mask, attaching it to her face. The abyssal energy compartment lit up, providing a small comfort in the chaotic situation.

“Everyone alright?” VV’s voice cut through the tension, her eyes glancing to D and A as she carefully unbuckled herself.

A nodded, unbuckling herself and standing upright in the overturned escape pod. She watched as VV pulled at the ledge below the escape hatch, extending a small rung ladder. VV gave it a test step before being the first out of the pod. A quickly followed, climbing up the ladder and peering out of the hatch.

A’s mind raced as she took in the scene before her. They were outnumbered and outgunned, but she couldn’t let fear paralyze her. She glanced at D, then back at VV. “Stay calm,” she whispered, her voice steady. “We need to assess the situation and look for an opening.”

She slowly climbed out of the pod, raising her hands to show she wasn’t a threat. Her eyes darted around, taking in every detail of their surroundings and the menacing figures that encircled them. She needed to find a way to communicate with VV and D without drawing attention, to formulate a plan that could get them out of this alive.

“Alright,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “We’re coming out.”

As she stepped forward, A’s mind was already working on a plan. She would use her Blood Sense to gauge the health and positions of their captors, looking for any weaknesses or signs of hesitation. If necessary, she could use Hemorrhage to create a distraction, buying them precious seconds to act.

But for now, they needed to play along, to bide their time until the right moment presented itself.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

I'll probably have a post up tomorrow or Wednesday