Skai

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: ?? - ??}

Take on Me: #3.044 Two in the Bush

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_{Interaction(s): Daedalus @Lord Wraith}

Previously: A Bird in the Hand

No matter how disgusted she was with the feeling, Haven didn’t jerk against her restraints when she felt his gloved hand pawing at her wing again. The muscles in her back twitched. Her breathing hitched with each stroke of his fingers. She stared into the lights above her and endured it only because she had no other choice. The slurs… sub-class, freak... they felt like weights placed onto her chest. Her breathing became slow and intentional. If she couldn’t control what was happening to her she would control the racing of her heart. She’d control her fear and keep the panic from consuming her.

It was becoming increasingly hard to fight the dissociation. It would be so easy to just disconnect… to become a shell of who she was.

No.

She didn’t want to lose herself. If she allowed herself to give up again she feared she would never leave the table she laid on now. That once this madman put her to sleep, she’d never wake again.

So she continued to dig her nails into her palms. The pain grounded her as it always did. She added the madman’s name to the list of people who had wronged her. She added his face to her memory. She knew it would come to her in her nightmares anyways. Just like she knew how the way he spoke her name would haunt her for the rest of her life. Daedalus was just another tormentor in a long history of pain and fear.

That thought alone made it easy for Haven to look him in the eyes again. She could see the monster hidden behind those grey eyes. She smelt the metallic tang of blood and musky sweat that he left behind on her cheek. It stung her nostrils. Another wave of nausea overcame her as he spun her, and she looked upon the skeleton laid so lovingly along the table nearby with apprehensive eyes.

She wasn’t sure if his ranting was a blessing or a curse. It prolonged her torment. It had her anxiously waiting for him to grow bored with her. Agonizing the moment he picked up a syringe to sedate her and begin his work. He was telling her about his twisted dream. How he felt inspired to tear people apart and make them new.

He described his method of torture in a way she didn’t fully understand, and yet she still saw the overall picture. She felt panic beginning to build in her chest again at the thought. She tried to control her breathing, and yet she still felt like she was struggling for air. Her heart was an increasing rhythm that she couldn’t control any longer. He was going to rewrite her DNA. She’d be put under and when she awoke- if she ever opened her eyes again, she’d be completely different. Maybe her heart would remain the same, her memories, her fears… but her body would be forever changed. She’d be a new creation. A different type of freak.

She was only given a second to process it, and to realize who Subject 00 was, before his loss of composure broke her concentration. Terror struck her like lightning as he kicked over the light fixture. Her teeth added new marks to the gag in her mouth. She anticipated his fury to turn onto her. For the monster to take control of him and strike her next. A whimper escaped her throat as he lunged for her, smothered by the restriction of her jaw. Her hands flexed at her sides as he knelt over her. His hot breath and spit hit her face as he roared into her ear. She turned her head to the side, eyes shut tightly. The restraints painfully held her down as she made a feeble attempt to defend herself, but it was no use. Her body trembled beneath him instead.

She couldn’t breathe.

His hand caressed her face again, and she felt him lower himself to stand beside her.

Her chest shook as she began to sob. The sound smothered by her gag. Each breath she took through her nose was a gasp for air. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. The panic consumed her. It kept her from filling her lungs. It denied her from sinking into that safe place at the back of her mind. Where she desperately wished to go to now.

Daedalus said that no one would take her from him, and she believed him.

"They won't let us go. They won't let you go."

Amma didn’t mention him.

Was this how she felt all those years ago? How would the raven-haired woman feel if she knew that Haven was going to suffer her fate now? Would she come to aid the poor winged woman again, or would she run from the monster that harmed her?

She was asking too many questions again. The thought sent a bittersweet pang through her heart that only made her cry harder.

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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: ?? - ??}

Take on Me: #3.040 A Bird in the Hand

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_{Interaction(s): Madman or Monster?}

Previously: When Doves Cry

It wasn’t anything like the trial.

She hadn’t had a chance to fight for herself.

When she first felt the grogginess of sleep wear away, and the feeling returned to her limbs, she immediately knew that she was no longer in the safety of Rory’s dorm. She felt the soreness in her back first. The same familiar feeling of her muscles stretched taught, the joints located at the center of her back close to popping out of their sockets, and the uncomfortable pressure of straps and vises against her plumage. Her body laid supine. Her ankles, thighs, wrists, and chest secured by leather belts to the table beneath her. Her wrists and ankles were especially sore for a reason she hadn’t grasped yet. Her mind was foggy as if she was waking from a long, late afternoon nap.

At first she wondered if she was having another nightmare. Her heart ached, hoping that it was true. That she was dreaming of the trial once more and soon she’d really wake up in Rory’s embrace. The one thing that instilled fear in her, that told her that the situation she found her body trapped in now was real, was the absence of a cold metal table sapping the warmth from her body and wings.

The cushion on the table beneath her wasn’t cold metal, but a warm and stiff blend of synthetic polyester. It reeked of cheap antiseptic fluid and old blood, enough that her own diminished sense of smell could pick up on it. When she wrinkled her nose and tried to swallow against the burning in her airways, she also noticed the presence of the gag in her mouth.

It tasted of old rubber and the same antiseptic fluid that had been used for the table beneath her. It kept her jaw shut around it, its tight strap reaching behind her head to put a slight pressure against the base of her skull. Her mouth was full of the nasty thing. The places where her teeth met it were rough. As if someone’s teeth had dug into it before. That realization alone had her terrified, wondering if she would be awake for whatever was to come in this reality. She was forced to breathe through her nose to get any air, which only had her breathing harder and faster as panic began to creep up her straightened spine and into her chest.

She finally dared to open her eyes. The surgical lights above her nearly blinded her at first. She had to squint when she first opened them, until the outlines of the bulbs began to reveal themselves. Once she’d adjusted to their harshness she wished she hadn’t. She first clocked the syringe suspended by equipment above her. The needle was longer than any she’d seen before, it’s tip sharp and threatening. The liquid within it filled to the end of the syringes barrel. The Subject R written on the side of it left her wondering what it was, and what it might do to her if it- when it was injected into her. Where would it be placed? Were the vials injected in alphabetical order? Her heart began to thump in her chest, and she tore her eyes away from it to inspect what else she could see beyond those bright lights.

The room beyond was dark, dingy, and devoid of the brightness that the trial had summoned for its imitation of the Foundation. The lights above her cast a blue shade over what she could now see were cages along the walls. Her heart rate began to skyrocket as she looked in them with wide, fear stricken eyes. The people, students, within were hardly alive. All in various states of pained existence. Her heart twisted at the sight of their sewed up wounds, outlined by black marks. Whoever had painted them was a harsh artist. A judging eye. There was no doubt that they believed their mission was to rid the world of their unnatural growths brought on by virumosis. She could see where some had their flesh re-made. Maybe they’d had scales for skin, or fur where hair should have grown. The others must have had extra appendages, like herself. Where those limbs must have been a part of them were now empty spaces, a horrid line of stitches holding their skin together.

Her stomach knotted as she thought of herself soon hanging in their place, nausea passing over her. She imagined herself faced against the wall. A patch of grafted skin sewed into the space on her back where feathers sprouted and wings protruded from her. They were going to take her wings. They were going to cut them from her. She felt terror bubbling up her throat until it escaped her. The gag in her mouth served its purpose, her scream muffled so well it could have been a whisper. No one would hear her pain. No one would find her in this nightmare.

She could have screamed again, until she heard his voice.

Her hands immediately balled into fists. Her nails dug into the skin of her palms. The name he called her incited terror, even if the man that appeared in the light above her looked nothing like the one who had named her Little Bird before. Her wide eyes took in every detail of him. His wild grey hair, the dirty glasses perched upon his crown. The stubble on his chin was worse than Rory’s had been.

Would she ever see Rory again?

She saw the wet, fresh blood splattered over the dried, old gore on his apron. She could tell it hadn’t been washed in ages.

Her blood would be on it soon.

His gloved hand reached for her feathers, caressing her wing as if it was cherished. Her reaction to it was visceral, even if the restraints put her at his mercy.

She.

Her mind immediately thought of Torres.

The man’s change in demeanor was sudden. Her body froze in place, relenting against the fear that took hold of her. His grey eyes had changed so quickly from something of admiration to something of hate. It unsettled her to the core. She swallowed against the tears that were now welling in her eyes. She saw the vials of blood he examined and knew that he had already taken from her by the bandage on the soft spot of her inner elbow. His face shifted, a primal instinct within her telling her that there was something worse hiding under his skin. HIs face was just another mask.

More masks. More gloves.

Her tears began to spill over. Her eyes were pleading as he looked upon her with sympathy. She flinched when he reached for her face, expecting more malice instead of his false ministration. A harsher version of what Rory had done to her earlier.

How long had she been gone? Did he even know she was missing yet?

Would there be anything left of her when she was found?

Would they ever find her?

The man’s attempt to soothe her only made her tears come faster. The yellow grin he wore promised that his confession was a lie. He was a monster beneath his skin. He had destroyed the other students in the room. He’d consumed their souls.

He would soon consume hers.

Haven’s eyes turned towards the lightbulb that hung above her. Her chest rising and falling as her breathing slowed. She found herself drifting back into the state of despondence she’d felt in the trial. Her mind sinking inwards, going to a place where she could hide until he inevitably put her under. Where the monster couldn’t reach her.

She tightened her fists at her sides. Blood pricked where her nails cut into the flesh of her palms. She didn’t want to lose hope. She didn’t want to accept this fate. Her mind was telling her to let go, but her heart was telling her to hold on. She found herself pleading with whatever power in the universe there could be. She begged to be with Rory again, to be hugged by Harper and Banjo, to chat with Calli…

Please.

She wanted to sit with Aurora on the beach. She wanted to show Lorcán to the Rockies. She wanted to tease Gil about his smoking again. She wanted to laugh with Katja in the gym.

Please.

She needed to fly over the island one more time. To fly through the mountains, and over the valleys of the states. She yearned to be in the forest once more, to feel the bark of a tree beneath her skin. To experience that weightlessness of flight, the wind rustling her feathers, and the wet feeling of a cloud as her fingers passed through it.

She wanted to keep her wings.

Please let me keep my wings.

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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Canis Dorm - PRCU}

Take On Me #3.037: When Doves Cry

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_{Interaction(s): Rory @Webboysurf}

Previously: Know Your Enemy & Wing to Wing

Haven’s feet dangled off the roof to the Canis Dorms. Her sneakered feet gently rocked back and forth as she waited patiently for the window below her to slide open. Her large wings, finally splayed open for the first time since the morning, were happily soaking up the last of the sunlight as the day began to draw to an end.

It wasn’t her cliffside view, but its proximity to him made it worth it. She was just fine enjoying the sky from Rory’s dorm if it meant she’d know as soon as he made it home.

Home. The word had blown through her mind as easily as a leaf in the wind. It had her heart fluttering, and filled her wings, cheeks, and chest with a warmth that she hadn’t expected but welcomed gratefully. It wasn’t a name for the dorm room in particular, but for the person that breathed and slept within it. The man she couldn’t wait to see after such a long and stressful day.

She didn’t worry about where he’d been. She didn’t fret over how he would receive her if she popped in his window seconds after he opened it. Instead she continued to enjoy the peaceful moment, because she knew that she wouldn’t be alone for much longer.

Calli’s words breezed through her thoughts. ”Remember to keep being you.” She thought she’d done pretty well today, even if she hadn’t paid too much attention in class. The classes had brought up painful memories and feelings, fresh wounds after they’d been torn open by the trial, but she’d sought out a solution to it before coming to rest on this roof. She’d done something for herself after days of seeking solace within Rory’s arms. She even found comfort in Harper, whom she’d been grateful to open up to. It was a bit of a surprise that Harper was the first to hear about her past. She thought that it would be Rory, when the time was right. He’d have to find out sooner rather than later. She was just wondering how she would bring it up to him when she heard the door begin to open within the dorm below her.

Rory was barely put together as he entered into his dorm, pausing briefly to look at Lorcán’s closed door with red puffy eyes. He sighed, pulling at his loose tie to loosen up its grip around his neck. He opened up his bedroom door, tossed his backpack on the ground, and stood in the darkening room for a long minute. His eyes locked on the closed window. He wasn’t sure if he should open it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to see him like this. He knew she wouldn’t care, but he did.

He also knew the last thing he needed at the moment was to be alone. Rory moved to the window, sliding it up and slumping onto the bed, removing his tie fully and tossing it across the room onto his desk.

Haven felt her heart do a flip as she heard the window slide open below her. She shook her wings out beside her, preparing to spend the rest of the night inside, as she pushed herself up onto her feet. With no time wasted, Haven stepped off the side of the building and caught herself midair in a powerful downbeat of feathers and muscle. She climbed into the familiar window same way she did every evening, careful not to graze her wings against the windowsill as she slid inside.

“Honey, I’m hoome.” She lilted playfully. The first thing she did was remove her sneakers, tucking them by the windowsill this time instead of leaving them scattered as usual. Her bag she set down on his desk, a small smile spreading as she picked up his tie. “Did you wear your uniform?”

Haven held the tie in her hand as she turned to face Rory, one corner of her lips turned upwards in an amused smirk. Her dimple was as deep as it could be now that she was in Rory’s presence.

Then she noticed his body language, slumped on the bed as if he’d lost the champion hyperball game. Except this looked worse than a simple defeat. The smirk dissolved, concern immediately passing over her features like a dark cloud. She moved over to the bed slowly, a million scenarios passing through her head as she did so. The redness to his eyes told her all she needed to know, except for what had happened to make him cry. Was Lorcán okay? Was it the trials back to haunt him?

“Hey,” she began softly, concern audible in her tone. “Come here. I got you.” Her hands reached out for him, a welcoming embrace that promised as much comfort as she could give him.

Rory reached out and buried his head into Haven's chest, arms wrapped around her tight as he let a few tears fall into her shirt. As his eyes were screwed shut, he fought hard against his imagination to avoid seeing the flashes of torture again. His grip around Haven tightened further.

It wasn't a good idea… but someone had to know. He had to talk to someone.

”I saw it… all of it. Jim recorded it…” His breath caught in his throat, the next words the hardest to choke out. ”They chose me to spare… they wanted to make me like him.”

Haven enveloped him in her arms, her wings following suit as she felt the first tears fall onto her chest. All thoughts about her day replaced by the need to make him feel safe. She wanted to ease his pain. It was the first time he’d cried in front of her, and it felt like her heart was slowly being crushed at the sight of his pain.

The cause of his pain was worse than what she’d imagined. She didn’t understand him at first, her brows furrowed in confusion, but at the mention of a recording the words pieced themselves together. Her heart broke for him. Her body tensed in his arms, and yet she held him closer to her and buried a hand in his hair. She kissed the top of his head, tears beginning to prick at her eyes.

“You… watched all of us? Why?” She asked softly. “What do you mean, like him?” She was so confused, and yet she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was hurting and she couldn’t imagine how much pain he’d endured watching his friends go through the horrors of the trial.

Rory kept his head buried and hidden against Haven. He wasn't ready to let her see his face. He knew he had let the cat out of the bag, but the words and explanation took a moment for his mind to parse together. He'd have to settle for partial answers. ”Investigation… Need to for the investigation. Jim warned me…” He paused, composing himself as he felt his voice quiver as he trailed off. The second answer was easier. ”They wanted to make me Hyperion… Haven, they wanted to make me like him…”

Those last words shut Rory up, his heart seizing more in his chest at the pain. He had been afraid for years that this is what people saw him as. The full-throated realization and acceptance that he wasn't just seen as Hyperion, but actively desired as a replacement, scared him. It scared him more than anything else possibly could.

Well, except for what he had seen that day. Seeing what Haven went through had shook him more than anything. Hyperion’s Children tried to kill her. The simulation tried to pluck her wings, caged her, and then tried to kill her. He didn’t understand everything that happened, but he knew enough to be devastated.

“Rory, you– you could never be him.” Haven’s voice was softer now, yet it carried the weight of her words with it. There was no way he could become anything like Hyperion. His heart was too kind. She knew that he would never kill another soul, even if he was pressured into it

It was hard to control her emotions as she tried not to think about how he’d seen her own recording. She couldn’t stomach the thought of it. He’d seen her fears, her desperation, her despondence, and her near death experience. He’d seen her life played out before her, used against her, and she hadn’t had a chance to tell him in her own words. It had her body tense under his touch, no matter how desperately she craved the feeling of him in her arms.

Her tanned hand began to rub circles along his back. A feeble attempt to soothe the both of them with the gentle motions. It didn’t do her any good. As much as she wanted to push her own experience into the back of their minds, a part of her wanted to know how he had taken it. What he thought of her after seeing her at her worst.

“You… you saw mine?” Her voice cracked as she spoke the words. “Were you alone? He didn’t make you watch alone, did he?” She swayed where she stood at the edge of the bed, her mind playing twisted games against her. She wasn’t sure she could remain standing as they discussed what had plagued her for the last few days

Rory let go, lifting his hands to his face to wipe away tears with his sleeves. He slumped back on the bed, before falling onto his back and turning away from Haven. He didn't want her to see him like this, especially when she was the one who had to live it. He was only a spectator. A voyeur.

”I… I brought Mary with me. Just to be there in case I…” He didn't know what he was going to do. He didn't know how to verbalize what he had felt. He shrugged off any effort to finish that thought, turning back to her central question. ”I saw all of it. Everyone's. They… I thought the simulation was just messing with me when it showed what it wanted to do to you.” Rory stared blankly at the side of the wardrobe that rested against the foot of his bed, his hands clenched into tight fists in front of him.

Haven could feel the world shift under her feet. The tears that had been welling in her eyes began to spill down her cheeks and gather at her chin. She crawled onto the bed, her wings drawn tightly to her back as her protective instincts took over. Careful not to disturb him, she sat on the other side of his legs, her back leant against the wall. Trembling hands reached for her head, brushing back the baby hairs that lined her face. She sniffed as she tried to steady her voice.

“I’m sorry. You should have heard it from me before you watched it.” She looked down at where he laid. Her tears continued to fall even as she tried to reign them in with a shaky breath. “I couldn’t say it before, because– because I gave up. And then Amma saved me, and I saw myself-” Her breath hitched as she wrung her hands within her lap. “The salon, the motel, the home, the forest… all of it. That’s what my life was like before I came here. It’s hard to talk about.”

“I thought I’d have more time to process it before I told you.” She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. “I’m mortified that Mary saw it, too, but… I’m really glad she was there for you.”

Rory shook his head, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. ”You don't have to apologize. I don't understand all of it, your past. I want to know, when youre ready. But I… What bothers me isn't your past. Haven…” Rory paused, more out of instinct and obligation than a desire to keep lying. Haven, based on what he had seen and heard, was just about the only person he could trust without a doubt for something like this. But more than that… Relationships are built on trust. She trusted him, and it was time he showed it back.

Rory pulled himself up into a sitting position, pushing himself back so he rested against the wall. He reached a hand out to hold Haven's, staring ahead but refusing to hide his face any more. His voice was soft. ”Someone in Blackjack might be working with Hyperion's Children. Some of them have been on campus for a while. Jim needed help investigating… and I want answers.” He paused, gritting his teeth. His tone grew more cold and detatched. ”If one of us is with them… I want to look them in the eye and ask how they could do that to their friends.”

Rory turned to properly face Haven, a flash of anger on his face as his eyes briefly glanced to her wings and her temples. ”I want to know why they were willing to kill you, Haven… or if they even knew.”

Haven’s wide eyes stared into Rory’s as his words sunk into her heart. Her tears slowed almost to a stop. “You really think?” The anger in his eyes, as they looked over the places on her body that had been targeted in the trial, answered it for her. She thought of what Aurora had said before, and her heart began to thump in her chest.

“Aurora was told that one of us betrayed the team. I didn’t- couldn’t believe it. I can’t imagine any of us planning something like that.”

Blackjack had each other’s backs. They were her new family. How could one of them knowingly put the team in harm's way? How could they walk into the trial knowing what awaited them inside?

“But Jim is never wrong… I can’t believe you’ve been holding onto that all of this time.” Her hand pulled his into her lap, the other joining it to gently trace the contours of his knuckles. “If they knew, then they were willing to kill the entire team and themselves to prove their point.”

Rory was left a bit speechless. He didn't precisely know what to expect… But there wasn't anger in her voice or movements. He let her run her fingers over his hand, staring down to watch her as he mulled over her words. Even then… her conclusion didn't sit right with him. He couldn't imagine any of them walking into the hell they faced… Though, not everyone faced an awful fate. He was a good example of that.

”Jim mentioned something about them being… departmentalized. Kept separate, and not knowing everyone. There's a chance they didn't know. I can't believe any of us would-” He stopped abruptly. That was a lie. One of them would. ”I don't think the… Spy, i guess, would have gone through with something like this. If they did…” He didn't know how to finish that sentence. He didn't want to dwell on what he would do if he was wrong.

Rory shook his head, his brain screeching to a halt and reversing. ”You… Haven, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't want you to have to deal with this… It's hard to look anyone in the eyes right now. I feel like a… like a monster having to suspect everyone. Hoping I can find whoever it is before someone else gets hurt.” His eyes briefly looked back to Haven as he finished talking. The image of the neural link being violently ripped off was burned into his memory. He didn't want to know what they would try next.

Haven’s heart twisted as she thought further on the subject. It would make more sense, and she desperately hoped they were right, that whichever teammate it was had no idea about the trial. She couldn’t stomach the thought of willingly allowing the team to be put through that pain. She didn’t feel angry, at least not yet, because she didn’t want to believe that there was someone in her new family that would harm them. It was going to break her heart if it was true.

She turned to Rory with incredulous eyes as he tried to put some blame on himself. How could he be sorry for this? He didn’t ask for it. His eyes moved to her temples, and she knew what he was thinking of. She remembered the moment like it happened yesterday. A fresh tear fell from her gold and greens and when she spoke, her voice was filled with sorrow. “Rory, you’ve had to shoulder this. You had to watch the tapes in case they told you anything. You’ve been alone in this, but I’m here now. I want to help in any way I can.” She squeezed his hand in her lap to emphasize her next point. “You have nothing to apologize for. You aren’t a monster, and you never could be. The person to blame is the one who messed with the trial.”

“If it was someone on our team, then… we need to find out who.” She said after taking a deep breath.

Her eyes looked between his blues, the understanding in them clear as she saw the pain within him. She knew it was going to be tough to scrutinize their teammates. She had a feeling that this was the reason why his shoulders seemed to carry so much weight in the past few days.

“I’m here to help you with the weight. You can lean on me, Rory.”

Rory shook his head quietly for a moment, sighing a little as he leaned his head back against the wall. ”I don’t want you getting involved, Haven. Not directly.” His voice was calm and tired, and he closed his eyes. ”I know you’re stronger than me… but if it’s any of the people I think it is, that won’t matter.” His jaw clenched for a moment, thinking back to the images he saw of his teammates fighting with their backs against the wall. ”I also know I can’t stop you from trying. And I know doing this alone could end up getting me killed.”

He pulled his hand out of her lap, and shifted his body to look at her directly. His hands rose to her cheeks, cradling her face and wiping away tears with his thumbs. He wore a serious expression, eyes dim with all but a glint of fear. He took a breath, and looked her straight in the eye. ”You were graced with beautiful ears, Wings. Just… listen in. Keep an ear out. If you hear anyone say anything weird, or confess to being up to something, or talk about what they went through in the Trials… let me know. And if you hear me cry out for you, I need you to find Jim or Torres.” He paused as he spoke that last name, regretting that request. But kept a serious expression as he elaborated. ”Preferably Jim. But if you can’t find him quick… I can only hold someone off for three minutes.”

“Like hell I’m leaving you to fight them by yourself.” Haven rebutted, even as she fought against the urge to shrink away at the mention of the Foundation representative. She looked between his eyes, a line forming between her brows. “Who do you think it is, that you think it will get physical anyways? Even if- if they chose to follow Hyperion, do you think-” She stopped herself, her eyes blinking back fresh tears.

She couldn’t accept that one of their own had willingly let the Trial attempt to kill them. Yet… if they did, they would probably have no issue with hurting them again. The way Rory spoke about it, it seemed he already had a few suspects in mind. It was hard not to let her own mind wander, to focus on the possibilities of who it could be if her own strength wouldn’t be much help against them. A few already came to mind. Those who had powers on a higher level, or the one person who could beat her in a fight. She didn’t want to dwell on any of their names for long. She took a breath and placed her hands over Rory’s, holding them to her face so that he wouldn’t pull away from her. Her eyes were serious as she nodded once.

“I’ll find them. Whoever is closest. Even if it’s her… but you have to promise me that you won’t get hurt.” She tilted her head into his right hand as she placed her left on his cheek, her thumb tracing the bit of stubble that had grown on his ungroomed chin. “I thought I’d lost you once, and I don’t think I can handle it again. Please don’t confront them unless you think it’s safe to.”

Rory gave a faint, soft smile. He turned his head, brushing his lips against her palm to plant a small kiss. He closed his eyes, then nodded, turning his head so she could continue tracing his face. ”I'll be careful… best case scenario, we're all wrong in the first place.” His voice was almost pleading for that sentiment to be true, but it failed to travel to his eyes. His eyes were still filled with a mixture of concern, fear, and sincerity.

As he looked into Haven's eyes, he felt a surge of emotion pour out of his chest. His breath caught as he stared at her. The gravity of their pact caught up to him. He moved on instinct, closing the short gap between them to plant a soft kiss on her lips. He didn't know how to describe the mixture of pain and comfort that poured out of him in that moment. As he pulled from the kiss, and his eyes slowly opened, the words that rolled out of him were sudden. ”Nothing is going to take me from you, Haven.” His voice trembled a little as he spoke, more out of raw emotion than uncertainty.

”I promise.”

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Strigidae Dorms - Pacific Royal Campus}

Take on Me #3.030: Let’s Perch for a While

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_{Interaction(s): Harper @Qia}

Previously: Unbirdening Troubles

A gentle knock rapped against the wooden door of the Strigidae dorm. The sound breaking the silence within the room was like a hesitant question. Would the dweller answer? Did it frighten her? Haven stood as close as she could get to it, otherwise she would risk a passing student coming too close.

Her foot tapped a subtle, restless beat against the linoleum. Her hands fidgeted together at the strap around her shoulder. She wasn’t impatient. She’d wait as long as Harper needed to take to get to the door, if only she would answer.

Rory’s window was shut when Haven had passed by it earlier. She’d taken to her dorm for a shower. In desperate need of something to do while she debated letting Rory know what she had planned. She figured she would tell him about it later when he made it to his dorm. Yet as she was getting dressed into more comfortable evening clothes, she realized that she didn’t want to do it alone.

Her plan had been pieced together as she’d sat in class, the topic in her upper-level course covering familial bonds. It had her thinking of her ties to her team, and of other ties that had been long severed. Bonds that had been used against her in the trial, and subsequently left her reeling in their wake.

What she would do with the information she wanted to gather, Haven had no clue. It was heart-wrenching enough to see their name again, let alone think of searching that name in Google to see what might pop up. She couldn’t imagine being alone as she did, so she thought of the person who had recently reminded her of her long-lost familial bond.

Harper felt like a sister to her, especially now after the brunette had carried her to safety. If Rory wasn’t available to sit with her, Haven was comfortable reaching out to her Blackjack sister instead. The only thing that held her back was that she hadn’t seen Harper since that day… and she couldn’t help but feel guilty that she hadn’t reached out sooner.

So, here was her olive branch.

Harper, sitting cross-legged on her bed, had a textbook filled with dense text and diagrams open in her lap. Her gaze was unfocused, however, drifting past the pages, her mind wandering far from the academic content she had missed that morning. It was too busy, too preoccupied, with replaying the day’s events so far, a strange feeling, one that she had not felt in some time, swirling around inside her all the while.

The room was quiet except for the occasional rustle of pages as she absentmindedly flipped through the textbook. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm glow on the bed, but Harper barely noticed. Her fingers, instead, traced the edge of the page, her thoughts a tangled mess of what-ifs and maybes. She glanced at her phone, half-expecting a message that never came, then sighed and looked away.

Were things really okay like this? Her not having opened up to Aurora about the way she’d been feeling lately? Her eyes lifted to stare at the wall, her mind replaying snippets of conversations and moments that seemed so distant now. The textbook lay forgotten in her lap, the sole and silent witness to her inner turmoil.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Harps.”

Her thumb came up to hover near her mouth.

Unless you’re harbouring a darker secret than I think you’re capable of, Baxter, you don’t need forgiveness.

Her mouth opened, her teeth resting on the tough skin there.

“Yeah, I’d love to help with the dance. Sounds like fun.”

She bit down. Not hard enough to break the skin. But enough so that she could feel something. Remind herself that she was there.

When the gentle knock rapped against her door, Harper’s head reluctantly turned, her eyes staring at the wooden barrier between her and her visitor, her body tense but her expression blank. The knock was soft, almost hesitant, as if the person on the other side was unsure whether to intrude.

What now? Who else required her comfort? To take from her without giving anything in return? It was a bitter thought, she knew, and perhaps she had herself to blame for the emotional toll she was carrying. Still….

Harper exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room, unfolding her legs and planting them on the floor. She stood up slowly, her movements deliberate, as if trying to delay the inevitable. Each step felt heavy, her feet dragging slightly as she crossed the room to the door. Her hand came to rest on the doorknob, the metal cool against her palm. She took one last moment to brace herself, her eyes closing briefly as she drew in a deep breath. The silence of the room seemed to press in on her, amplifying the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. And then, with a final, resigned sigh, she turned the knob and opened the door, coming face to face with her baby-faced, golden-haired mirror image.

“Oh hey,” was her simple greeting, her mouth automatically starting to plaster a small smile on her face before she stopped it. It faltered, her lips settling into a neutral line as she took in the sight of her good friend, doing her best to ignore the obvious injuries that marred her features. Everyone was injured. Everyone had their burdens to handle. And for once, Harper was too exhausted to forbid her face from showing that she was one of them.

Haven had heard every breath, every reluctant movement, as the room’s occupant had made her way to the door. She hadn’t expected a quick answer, not with anyone from the team still hurt from the trial. Yet as she heard the first click of the handle turning, Haven felt worry settle in her stomach like a rock. She had never felt so… nervous to be approaching someone she knew so well. It almost felt like they were strangers, yet they were still connected through their shared trauma.

The door opened, revealing Harper’s attempt at her usual smile. Haven had always been aware that it was a mask, a quality she didn’t dismiss or dislike, but it was painfully obvious now that it had been a facade. She felt a rush of panic try to take hold of her, until it lost its grip the moment Haven quickly glanced over Harper’s newest features. Faded scars, that word still emblazoned upon her cheek, and a fresh haircut. The subtle exhaustion in Harper’s eyes and the way her shoulders sagged twisted Haven’s heart.

The trial had changed them both. The openness in her friend’s expressions was as refreshing as it was concerning.

“Harper… I’m so sorry I haven’t come sooner.” She murmured softly, if only to keep any nosey bodies in the halls or the neighboring rooms from listening in. Her hands twitched at her strap. She wanted to reach out to her friend, but they hadn’t touched since it had been necessary to move. She hadn’t been touched by anyone but Rory since, and she wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with it yet. Even if it was someone she truly cared for.

“Can I come in?”

Harper’s eyes flickered with a tumultuous blend of emotions as she gazed at Haven, not responding to her right away. Her instinct right then and there was to retreat, to shield her own fragile state from further strain. Yet, there was something about the sight of her friend, the softness of her voice, that tugged at her heart.

The brunette’s shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh.

“It’s… it’s okay, Haven,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “You can come in.”

Harper stepped aside, allowing Haven to enter the room. As the other woman walked past, she felt a sharp pang of disappointment pierce through her. She had hoped for a brief moment to gather her own thoughts, to maybe even reach out for help herself, this time with full honesty rather than half-hearted truths. But now, as she watched Haven’s weary figure, she realized that, once again, she had to be the strong one. Because there was no way she could do it. Lean on her friend who was also barely standing on her own.

“I was just… trying to catch up on some reading,” Harper said then, gesturing vaguely to the textbook on her bed. “But I guess that can wait.” She closed the door behind Haven, the click of the latch sounding final. Turning to face Haven, her eyes searched her friend’s face for clues. Anything that she could use to ease her burden.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”

Haven stopped short of the bed as she entered. She was relieved to be out of the hallway and in a place where she felt like her wings could relax. Her eyes scanned over the textbook on the bed, its contents seeming gibberish to her. “Well, there’s a lot going on up that tree.” She mused softly, before turning to look at her teammate. “I want to know how you are, first.”

Her eyes were soft as they looked into Harper’s. Her emotions present in the green and golds, concern and hope that her friend would open up to her. What Haven missed the most about her long lost sister was the openness they had with each other. She had it with Rory, sure, and she didn’t take that for granted for a moment. Yet after Harper found her in the trial, and gave her the spirit to escape on her own two feet with the brave brunette’s help, Haven wondered if they could be the same way. If she didn’t find the answers she would be looking for in her past, she was hoping to find something new in her present.

“Have you been sleeping?”

The concern and hope in Haven’s eyes were almost too much for Harper to bear. She felt an overwhelming urge to retreat, to hide her own pain behind a mask of indifference. But Haven’s sincerity, the genuine worry etched into her features, made it impossible for Harper to completely turn away. She could see the silent plea for support in the other’s gaze, and it tugged at her heartstrings, making her own struggles feel insignificant in comparison. She felt it—her mind, her heart, slipping back into its usual habit of self-sacrifice.

“Sleeping?” Harper echoed, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Not really. Nightmares, you know? They don’t exactly make for restful nights.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she glanced away, unable to meet Haven’s eyes, fearing that her friend might see the depth of her strife. The true depth.

“But that’s not important. You came here for a reason, so what is it?” Harper asked, attempting to shift the focus back on Haven. She decided then that she wasn’t yet ready to delve into her own struggles. Not like this, with their associated disgruntlement.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she added after a bit of silence, her tone gentle but insistent.

Haven took a slow breath, her eyes shifting momentarily to avoid showing the subtle disappointment within them. She knew Harper was struggling. She knew it was hard for her teammate to share her inner pain. Her pain was important, though Haven wasn’t going to push her about it. She didn’t feel rejected by the change in topic. It just made her realize that she would just have to be patient until Harper decided to fully open up to her, if she ever chose to. She was beginning to see why Calliope was feeling frustrated.

The next topic, though, wasn’t an easy one to discuss either.

“In the trial,” she paused, her mind trying to focus on the important memories and not on the horrors she’d endured, “My past was used against me like a game. It reminded me of an old friend, and… while it was a twisted version of her, I realized there was truth behind it.”

She slowly released the breath she’d been holding, her hand gripping the strap as she gathered the courage to speak about her past.

“She was the closest friend I’ve ever had before coming here, and I never said goodbye.” Her heart twisted, trying to filter her real memories of Anabel from the simulations. “I think… I want to find her. To see if she’s doing okay.”

Her hands began to fidget with the strap on her bag. “I need to look at my files, to see if they mention the girl's home we stayed at. I just- I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

Her eyes were apologetic as she looked into Harper’s tired gaze. “Could you sit with me, while I look it up?”

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Infirmary -> Academic Quad - PRCU}

Take On Me #3.024: Unbirdening Troubles

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_{Interaction(s): Calliope @PatientBean}

Previously: The Mind is a Restless Bird

"Haven? Are you okay?"

Haven’s foot stilled in the grass. She’d been expecting a text and not a voice. Her head turned, her anxious eyes resting on Calliope and the small bundle of flowers in the blonde’s hands. It was both a relief to see one of her teammates, and also the opposite. “Hey, Calli.” She attempted a half-smile, to cover up the fear that dwelled in her stomach, but it fell as quickly as she’d put it up. There was no use hiding her problems if they were this present and interrupting. She sighed softly, her eyes returning to the grass in front of her. Her lips curved downwards into a frown.

“It’s too similar to the trial.” She began in the hopes that Calli would understand her honesty. “I’m worried about Lorc, and I want to be there for the Roths and Ror and Rory, but I can’t make it past the doors.”

She’d always had the courage to face her fears, but she was finding it hard to remember what it felt like to brush them off her shoulders as easily as she used to. All of her fears had been placed in front of her, and as a group they had unraveled her soul.

“Go on in. I don’t want to hold you up, and they need all the love they can get in there.” She looked back to Calli then with a better attempt at a smile. “I’ll be alright waiting here.”

Calli looked around, unsure how to proceed. Was Haven trying to get rid of her so she could be alone or was this an instance where she wanted someone to talk to? ”If it helps, I doubt they would have let you in anywhere near him. I planned on dropping these off at the front desk so they could give it to him before I went to see Banjo and head to class.” Still, Haven was probably reeling from the Trials. If she was like Harper, or even Calli herself, she would need someone to talk to.

”Hey, want to walk to the quad together? After I drop these off?” Hopefully the girl accepted, but Calli didn’t want to push the issue.

Haven blinked as she realized Calli was right. She had no experience with visitation rules, and she just assumed that anyone would be able to see Lorcán. It made sense that she would have been turned away.

So… she was just expected to go on with her day? Did they expect the same from Rory too? Or Aurora? How could anyone focus when another teammate was hurt again?

“Yeah… that would be nice.” She said, unsure of how to act. “I can wait here until you’re done.”

Calli smiled and went inside. At the front desk she spoke to the receptionist and informed them that she had some flowers for Lorcán. Once that was done Calli made her way back outside. They would hopefully hear word about Lorcán soon and that he would be all right. She could only imagine how Aurora was feeling.

She made her way back to Haven. ”All right. Shall we?” Calli asked, allowing Haven to lead the way. Calli had to admit she was growing more concerned.

Haven stood from her spot as Calli approached, giving her a small nod. She clutched the strap of her bag as she began to walk and glanced over Calli’s way. She was never one for small talk, so she said the only thing that came to mind at present.

“How’ve you been since… y’know.”

Haven was getting straight into it. ”About as well as can be expected. Which is to say not great.” She hadn’t spoken to most of the others after the Trials so she was unaware of what they all had dealt with. ”Still processing a lot of it. How about you?” If Haven was struggling to be inside of a hospital due to what occurred Calli could only imagine what horrors she saw and experienced.

Calli’s words brought an empathetic wince to Haven’s lips, but Haven knew not to expect her to say things were going well anyways. “I’m okay when I’m with Rory, but I feel like I’m always on edge without him.” She pressed her lips together, debating telling Calli more or keeping it simple. She settled for inbetween. “I haven’t felt this way since I started here. I’m glad to have Rory to keep me grounded.”

“How’s… Banjo doing?”

Calli expected this once Haven brought up Rory. How to go about this? Harper helped her process some stuff, but a lot of it still needed to be resolved and to do so she would have to talk to Banjo and more often than not lately they…didn’t talk. Or if they did it was the simple greetings and ‘I love you’s’ which were nice. But Calli could tell something was up with Banjo and if he couldn’t talk to her about it, how was she to talk to him?

”He’s…good. Dealing with his injury as only he can which is by not listening to the medical professionals and being his usual goofball self.” The words, despite their playful look, didn’t quite match Calli’s tone. ”I’m glad you have Rory. It’s nice to have someone be there for you when you need them and accept you.”

A soft smile spread across Haven’s lips as she listened to the subtle complaint. She wasn’t surprised that Banjo was finding it hard to follow directions. If anything, she was glad to hear Banjo was back to being Banjo. She looked over at her blonde companion with that same soft smile.

“I’m grateful for him, really. Neither of us have ever had someone we can be as open with, so… it’s nice to have someone I can trust and who trusts me back.”

“We didn’t leave the dorm much until today, just for a run or for food. It felt great.”

Calli felt equal measures of happiness and concern. She was happy to hear Haven and Rory so happy together. Being there for each other and just spending the day next to them, not worrying about anything.
It wouldn’t last.

Not that it was a bad thing. Far from it. Relationships require those moments where you disagree with your partner and talk about it. Worked it out and came out stronger for it. She and Banjo have had a few of those moments. At the time they seemed bad. Torture. But afterward, they made up and grew stronger. It was why she was so hurt he was keeping her at arm’s length and vice versa. But she didn’t want to rain on Haven’s parade, especially with news about Lorcán and what they all dealt with in the Trials.

”That must have been nice. I remember days like that. I enjoyed them more especially being away from my family. Just being by myself without obligations.” Calli remembered she needed to contact her brother. ”I haven’t spoken to Rory since…well not for a while now. How is he handling all of this?”

Haven looked at the path ahead of them, noticing they were reaching the administration building now. “He’s… shaken, I think. We haven’t really spoken about what we went through in there.” Images flashed through her mind, of being dragged away from Rory in that burning room. She couldn’t imagine what he went through after they separated, but she knew it was eating away at him slowly. “Jim’s asked him to cover for Tad, and I know it put a weight on his shoulders on top of whatever else he has stacked up. I’m being patient while he sorts through it all, and I made it clear he can tell me anything when he’s ready.”

“Has… Banjo mentioned anything to you yet? He found me after the trial– and I’ve been worried about him since but I haven’t found the courage to ask him about it.”

”No, he hasn’t. It’s frustrating. He’s clearly hurting and won’t tell me about it. I told him what I went through. Maybe you’ll have better luck.” Admitting that stung, but if Banjo found it easier to speak to someone other than her about it then she would be happy. Eventually.

Or not at all.

Why was he being so frustrating about it?

She could hear the hurt in Calliope’s voice. With Rory, his silence didn’t feel frustrating, but maybe that was something that would eventually change as time went on. Was that how relationships worked or was it a flaw within Banjo and Calli’s partnership?

“He didn’t really want to tell me, though. Even after he hugged me, and it really seemed like he was going to cry, he didn’t tell me what happened.” She chewed on her bottom lip, until the pieces suddenly put themselves together. ”You don’t think… he thought I died, do you? I was told you were all going to, but I never saw anything but myself.”

Her breath hitched as her lifeless moss and timber eyes flashed before her. “But Aurora shut the door…” She whispered to herself. Had some of their teammates been shown her lifeless body too? Or worse, the bodies of the rest of Blackjack. Her eyes flitted between the bricks in front of her as she thought. Rory hadn’t seen it, right? She couldn’t imagine the pain that it would have caused her to see his lifeless body instead of her own. She would have surely lost her mind.

Calli bit her tongue before she said something she might regret. Then she continued. ”I don’t know. I only know what I went through and that was enough for me. I know everyone went through their own hell so it’s possible he saw your death. Possibly he saw others’ as well. But he won’t talk about it and I am caught at a crossroads of wanting to talk it through with him and not pushing him before he’s ready. I already push him enough as it is.”

That thought at the back of her head. That inner voice. She could still hear it.

Haven could only respond with a slow nod, her mind still caught between those lifeless eyes and wondering what Rory or Banjo went through. She glanced over Calli’s way, her heart twisting momentarily. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Calli let out a small laugh. ”I’m supposed to be helping you. You were the one who couldn’t face going into a hospital. I think the team needs to address it overall. Not necessarily hash it out and unload all that happened, but come together for something. I know the dance is coming up, and I put work into that, but I don’t know if we are in a dancing mood right now. And the school expects us to move on and go to class as normal and train and spar. It’s messed up. Someone hurt us and I don’t plan to let them continue.”

Haven was surprised to hear Calli’s laugh. Yet her small joke had a point. She tried not to show how disappointed she felt for allowing her memories to control her body. The dance, on the other hand, was something Haven wanted to ask Calli about the moment the blonde mentioned it.

“I was thinking, actually… that the dance sounds like fun. I want to wear a nice dress and do my hair. I want to dance with Rory, and maybe drink a bit.”

She looked over at Calli, giving her a small yet encouraging smile. “I don’t think your work should go to waste… and I’d love it if you helped me find a dress on the mainland for it. I don’t know a thing about Hollywood glam.” Her shoulders and wings shrugged behind her.

Calli smiled warmly. Despite her reluctance to even think about the dance, she was still excited. After all she and Gil put some good work into it and now Harper would be helping. But that still left the need for a dress. And shoes. And hair. And make-up. And accessories. ”Attractive thing like you, I bet you know all about glam. But I can definitely help. Maybe some of the others want to come also? We can make it a girl’s trip? I need a new dress as it stands anyway. Something to make Banjo’s jaw drop to the floor the entire night.” Calli actually felt better talking about this. She hoped Haven felt the same.

Haven let out a small giggle, her hand coming to cover her grin for a moment. “I think any dress would have Rory drooling.” She smiled over Calli’s way letting her hand fall back to her bag. “I’d love a girls day…. I just hope Harper and Aurora are up for it.”

“Aurora may not want to leave Lorc’s side…”

Calli pondered that. She would probably be in the same situation if it was Banjo so she was not one to judge. ”Probably not, but she can’t just…stick around waiting. Who knows how long it will be, though I am confident Lorc will pull through. A shopping day may be just what she needs to turn off her thoughts for a moment. And just imagine how wowed Lorc will be seeing Aurora in a beautiful dress.”

“I think some time together would help all of us.” She wasn’t sure how well she’d be doing without Rory’s comforting presence over the last few days. Isolation was something she’d grown used to a long time ago, but she remembered those countless lonely nights. They felt so far away now. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be alone again.

“Will you start a group text for us? My phone isn’t that great.”

Calli nearly took her phone out, but thought better of it. ”Yeah, I’ll set one up later. Maybe after a day or two. Pretty sure Aurora doesn’t need that at this moment.” Calli looked around, noticing they were nearing their destination. ”Just remember Haven, you are your own person. It’s easy to get lost in the bliss of a new relationship. Be there for each other. Lean on each other. Support each other. But remember to keep being you.” She had to learn that the hard way.

Haven winced as she realized Calli was right. She was thinking too far ahead, desperate to have something to look forward to that she had already forgotten about the situation their amber eyed teammate was in.

She noticed the academic quad in front of them now. Again dreading the thought of sitting in class. It was like they expected them to pretend nothing had happened over the weekend, and that nothing was happening now. This was another curse of society. She didn’t feel like she had time to be sitting in class when her mind was such a mess, but she was expected to. She needed to go, as much as she wanted to disappear into the woods again. Without this degree, she was starting to wonder if she could skirt by on her own means again.

Calli’s next words dragged her out of her mind, her eyes instantly seeking the blonde’s hazels. Their eyes were similar, except for the presence of blue mixed in with the other tones. She nodded to acknowledge the advice, even as it was still sinking in. Was she losing herself to her love? She couldn’t tell. And if anything, Haven felt like she was lost without it. Perhaps it was a package deal that Haven just wasn’t aware of yet.

“Thanks, Calli… I’m glad you found me outside the infirmary.” She offered a small smile, one dimple present on her cheek. “I feel a little better now.”

A buzz from her phone interrupted their moment. Her attention was immediately drawn to her bag, where she pulled out her phone quickly before flipping it open. Her eyes scanned the text message from “Abs <3”, her lips turning downwards into a small frown.

“Lorcán’s in quarantine. No visitors.” She turned her worried eyes towards Calliope. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

Calli took out her phone to see the same message. She wasn’t surprised, but at least it was confirmed. ”He’s made out of strong stuff. I am sure he’ll be fine. Plus he’s got his family and Blackjack behind him.”

Calli would have to grab Banjo before the day was over to let him know about Lorcán. ”Going to class is going to feel weird with everything going on, but some type of normalcy is needed. Life continues even when tragedy hits.”

Again, Calliope was proving to be a wise and comforting voice. Haven took a slow breath as she let Calli’s words wrap themselves around her anxious heart like a blanket. She could make it through the day if she kept them in mind.

“I just hope they go by quickly.” She said with a halfhearted smile. “I hope everything goes well with Banjo… let me know if I need to knock some sense into him.”

She held up a fist in front of her as she started backing towards the health science wing, shaking it halfheartedly. “Seriously.” She said before turning around to continue on her way, her patchy wings tucking into her back as she prepared to enter the building.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Three Days Ago...

Haven was reluctant to leave Rory’s side on the field, and yet as her eyes turned towards the open sky she felt the yearning in her heart take control. She wanted to fly until her wings gave out. She needed to suspend herself in the air above campus to give her mind some space. Even if she still wore her bloody suit, and even if she was exhausted, she was going to do what the universe had intended for her and soar.

Yet she wasn’t comfortable taking off with the chaos of the site before her. She needed to find a clearing where she could test her wings alone. Her eyes searched for a break in the site’s layout. It was close to the Minotaurs, but it would do for an escape route. Her steps, light and purposeful, carried her towards that spot. Her mind was on the clearing and on the eventual freeing feeling of the wind in her feathers, paying no mind to those around her not out of ignorance but out of the need to be free of this place.

Banjo sat on the tray of the Minotaur with Calliope. She had two towels wrapped around her shoulders, with a third around her leg. Every time they’d tried to give him one, he’d given it to her. At this point, even he could tell she wouldn’t need another, but he didn’t want anything from anyone. Not at this point. His right foot tapping aimlessly, nervously, until he realised what he was doing and stopped himself.

His left leg still felt like it held it. The ice sword, its phantom pain, in deep enough to support its own weight. Even if it couldn’t be seen.

Everyone he saw looked a mess, which frustrated him even more. He felt he had it. Wrestled control. And then his overconfidence… Stupid. He saw through it twice. He divined reality from the simulation, and it hadn’t been a fluke.

Most of his team looked far more disturbed by the experience than he did. His leg ached and it was preventable, and it marked him as a fool.

And then he saw someone he thought he’d never see again.

Moving away from the throng of people, the rushing aid, and busying support, she almost looked like a construct of a dream.

Which wasn’t the best time for that kind of appearance.

He caught sight of her familiar face as it turned back to check on a teammate, through her plume, before continuing to the clearing. She fluffed her wings once, and it became obvious what her intent was once she would hit the clearing.

His right heel hit the mud first as he dropped from the tray. Staggering through the mass of overly helpful humanity. Getting increasingly frustrated he shoved away someone with a blanket who assured him he needed medical attention. He needed to get where he was going. He needed a final answer that this wasn’t still part of what he’d been going through. Another hardlight torment, through the mists of a plausible rescue intermission.

She had to be real. She had to be alive and here. Or he at least had to know. Before she took to the skies and left that question unanswered.

She began to stagger herself, her gait shifting in a familiar way, as she began to build a little momentum for takeoff.

”OI!!” He called out, hoping to get her attention. If this were the simulation he felt sure she’d ignore him. It would be too late. Or she wouldn't be here. Forever programmed to inevitably be a hair too late.

But she stopped and her head turned.

He slipped through another few people, ripping his arm through and staggered into the open space. He took another few staggered steps and dropped his weight onto her shoulders, wrapping her in a tight embrace. His own shoulders trembled as it became clear this reality held to tighter scrutiny. She was alive. She was real. They were out.

This wasn’t just a false tale where he’d saved the girl and found himself another layer deeper into an unwaking nightmare. He’d done it and he was out. His shoulders trembled as he hugged her silently. He realised breaking the clinch whilst still holding his form was going to be increasingly difficult, so he pulled back tears with a heavy sniff whilst he still held her close enough that nobody could see, and created separation, patting her shoulders down to straighten her back up after his embarrassing display.

Banjo’s call had stopped Haven in her tracks. His tone was off, not as plucky as his usual call sounded. When she looked at him, the expression on his face looked just as concerning as it was odd. It felt like he was seeing her, and yet he didn’t believe it. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by a horrible limp in his left leg. His suit was bloody, and yet she didn’t see the injury present.

Haven’s head tilted back as he neared her to keep his eyes in her vision, still unaware of his intentions. Her lips had parted just when it seemed he wasn’t going to stop his advance, but the words never left her lips. She forgot what she was going to say the moment he embraced her.

It was Banjo, and yet her body still reacted with fear towards the touch. Her plucky friend, a brother with no blood relation between them, and she still felt like a caged bird in his arms. Her body was tense, arms slack at her sides. Her wings had flared behind her. Her cheek pressed into his chest as he enveloped her. She wanted to tell him to get off, but the sudden feeling of his shoulders shaking around hers stopped her.

Was he… was he going to cry?

Her arms slowly moved as her heart twisted. She’d never seen or heard Banjo cry before. Never thought that he had a sad bone in him. It was heartbreaking. She intended to return the embrace, her arms grazing against his back, but he broke it with the saddest sniff she’d ever heard.

Her own sadness, mixed with the confusion she felt towards his display, beheld his tear-pricked eyes as she looked up at him once more.

“What happened in there?” She asked as she rest her hand on the arm that patted her shoulder. What could make such a sparky soul break the moment he saw her?

”Ahhhhhhhhhh shit.” He warbled. Stretching it out to keep any hitches from his throat. Eyebrows firmly raised, as his irises worked overtime as sponges to keep moisture from flowing down his cheek.

”Just… relieved.” Which was true. The tears he held back weren’t from sadness or trauma. Pure relief. ”Good ta be alive and alla that.”

He bottled his own issues up. It’s not like these people didn’t have enough on their plates already after that. No need to bog them down with his as well. No biggie, I just saw you get quartered up like Friday night’s roast chook… carry on aboutcha day.

”Take it you’re takin’ off, eh?” He gestured to the skies with a tilt of his head and a smirk.

Haven’s head tilted to the side as her hand fell back to rest by her hip. She nodded slowly. A fleeting thought passed, whether to acknowledge the tears or to let him hold them back. It didn’t last long.

“Are you gonna be ok?” She asked softly. She couldn’t stand to leave him like this. It felt like he’d sought her out for a reason, and she wasn’t about to ignore it. “Do you want me to stay for a bit?” She’d sacrifice her time in the sky for him if it meant those tears wouldn’t fall. He was acting so out of character that it worried her.

”Nah. What? I’m fine. Just checkin’ in.” He smiled.

”Go about ya ‘Bye, Bye Birdie’ business.”

Haven’s brows furrowed with concern until she decided that he would have said something if he needed comfort. The bird pun managed to bring a halfhearted smile to her lips, either way. She fluffed her wings out behind her and shook her head. “I’ll be up there for a while, so don’t trip and expect help getting back up, Jo.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. The open air was calling her name, and she could no longer refuse it. She turned away from him, her first few steps away from him cautious and well-practiced. Until she regained trust in her healed wings and leapt into the air.

Banjo watched as she took to the sky, and turned to position herself so that she held herself aloft, leaning into a stiff breeze. She soared over the cliffs, and then plunged out of sight.

_{Interaction: Banjo, @Hound55}

---

_{Location: PRCU - Dundas Island}

Take on Me: #3.018 The Mind is a Restless Bird

---

_{Interaction(s): Rory, @webboysurf, Aurora @Melissa, Calliope @PatientBean}

Previously: Eggs in One Basket

Haven's thumb gently tapped a restless rhythm against her opposite elbow. Her wings were drawn tight, even if the room around her was empty. The stares on the short walk over had been enough to elicit paranoia and irritation, starting her first day back in classes off roughly. She stood waiting at Pacific Royal's version of Royal Mail Canada, hoping that her deliveries today were sparse and easy to complete. She dreaded sitting in class. If she could get some airtime between community service and her first, she was sure that she could handle the 60 minute lecture without becoming a loon.

Her relief must have been written across her face as Ms. Walters, a kind and patient woman, approached her with one medium-sized package and a few envelopes. Ms. Walter's smile made it obvious that she knew Haven was in no mood for her civic duty today. "Have a great first day, sweetie."

Haven would have usually been bantering with the woman the moment she walked in the door. They had a fun repertoire going with each other, mostly comments about Haven's quickness with her job or what sort of mischief Haven had been up to on her weekends. This time, they both were aware that there had been no fun stories to tell about her trip to the plateau. Well... except for, "Good luck with tall, dark and handsome. I'm sure you'll have fun at the dance coming up." The woman had a cheeky edge to her grin this time as she pushed the stack of mail towards her.

Haven's cheeks flushed, the woman's comment softening the muscles in her body and producing a coy smile at the corners of her lips. There had been one update from her weekend that she couldn't keep from her older friend. She unfolded her arms and approached the counter that separated them, her hands reaching for the stack. "Thanks, Betty. I'll see you tomorrow." The woman only nodded, her grin wide as she turned back to her sorting.

Haven placed the package under her arm and the envelopes into her satchel as she made her way out of the office, that coy smile lasting a moment longer until she passed through the threshold. The dance... she'd completely forgotten about it. She wasn't even sure she wanted to go, and if she did, would she be going with Rory? Had he even thought about it, either?

The event hadn't mattered much to her before the trial. It had only crossed her mind then because Mei had asked Rory... and then they'd confessed their feelings to each other. After he agreed to go with Mei. Yet now Mei was gone, probably as happy as a lark considering she missed out on Blackjack's collective nightmare.

^{"You were today's worm and tomorrow she’ll fly away the second things get hard. Haven already has her bags packed in case she doesn't like how things go with the Foundation. Four years here means nothing to her, she’s always had one wing out the door, ready to run.”}

The words struck her suddenly. Her body flinched, her steps faltering as she'd made it onto the walkway. Her breath came out as a whoosh of air. She'd forgotten what the simulation had said since she'd given Rory her bag. Yet now as she thought of Mei the stolen secret returned to mind. She took a moment to let her heart settle within her chest, her eyes searching around her in case anyone had witnessed her moment. Recovered, Haven continued towards her usual launchpad of grass nearby when a thought suddenly revealed the irony of the resurfaced memory.

After all the simulated Mei had said about her to frighten Rory, it was Mei that ran away. Mei had gone with the wind the moment things were hard for her. Now, even after being targeted by Hyperion's leftover followers and with the threat of The Foundation overhead, Haven wasn't going to follow in Mei's footsteps. The thought comforted the little part of her heart that had been doubting herself since her secret had been revealed. She was here to stay, to fight for her happiness. She wouldn't turn tail the moment things were hard again.

Maybe she could allow herself some grace by letting loose at the dance. She loved going to parties, so what difference was there between the two? Clueless, Haven stood at the edge of the grassy clearing pressing her lips together as she wondered what she would need to attend it. She'd heard from other students that it was themed Hollywood glam, whatever that meant. The only exposure to Hollywood Haven had ever gotten was through Gil, or through the classic movies left at the cabins in the states. Without the required dress uniform, Haven figured she'd need a gown similar to the rich women in said movies. She definitely didn't have one of those hanging in her closet. At most, her own dresses were causal and comfortable, besides the one sundress she owned. Besides the dress, Haven figured she could do something nice with her hair. Hell, she could even put on makeup for the first time in forever.

It all felt so silly, thinking that she could relax again in a crowd or dress up nice. She pushed her hair back from her face and released a slow breath. She had no idea what she was doing anymore. With Rory, it was an exhilarating leap of faith into the unknown. With anything else, Haven felt directionless. The only places she felt like she belonged was in the forest, in the sky, or in Rory's room. Had the trial really shaken her values, or was the last four years here just a means to an end?

That restless feeling began to gather in her chest again.

Haven broke into a light jog, her wings extending out beside her, and she took off into the sky. Up in the air, with the wind gently running its invisible fingers through her golden locks and feathers, Haven felt her body relax. She angled herself to the right, making a swing for her first mail delivery destination. If there was one thing Haven was certain of, it's that the people she'd grown close to had been one of the only reasons she remained at the school.

They were her tether to society. Her family borne by love, trust, and anything but blood. The trial may have shaken her faith in civilization, but it hadn't shaken her heart. That was what she could hold onto, to keep herself from drifting into a state of confusion.

---

The deliveries had gone by quickly, as she'd expected. She found herself sitting in her favorite tree with ten minutes to spare until she'd need to head back to campus. One knee was tucked under her chin, arms wrapped around it as she gazed over the cliff and out to sea. Her other leg dangled over the side of the wide branch that seemed perfectly made just for her to perch on. Her sneakered foot gently rocked back and forth, her body at ease as the sound of the waves and wind crashed into the rock below her.

She sat ten meters off of the ground, suspended from reality in a large red cedar's branch. It had the perfect nook settled against the trunk where Haven could curl up and rest without worry. Ten feet directly out from the tree's base, fir and leaf litter ended just before the rock of the mountain sat exposed and dropped off at about a 100 meter drop to the waters of the Pacific below. No path carved through the island lead anywhere close to it, and if anyone tried to find her there, they'd have to hike for about forty minutes before they'd come close. The cliff sat on the west tip of the island, where Zayas Island could be seen resting within the waters to the left.

She'd been to this spot countless times since she'd discovered it her freshman year. It was her one place on the island that no one else knew of, besides mentioning it briefly to Rory. A smile tugged at one corner of her lip as she remembered how he asked her what it was like to sleep in a tree. She tried her best to explain it, but she'd been comfortable with bark against her skin since she was young. Instead, she told him to try it with her one night to get the full experience.

A gentle buzz sounded from her satchel where it hung on the branch. Her reminder to get to class. A sigh escaped her lungs, grieving her peaceful moment as if she hadn't had enough of the view and the forest around her. She stood straight on the branch as she gathered her satchel over her neck and shoulder. Her feet rest on the edge, her balance perfect against the breeze that ruffled her feathers. It passed through the empty space in her primaries where the trial had taken it's largest prize. She frowned, mourning it's loss for a brief moment, before launching herself into the air. She beat her wings until she reached the cliffs edge. The updraft from below caught her and took her with it. Up and up she went, her wings still as she allowed nature to give her a boost, and when the last of the wind kissed her feathers goodbye she moved them, turning herself towards campus.

---

Just as Haven had been dreading stepping into her first lecture room of the day, she was surprised to see her professor waiting for her at the door. "Professor? I'm not late, am I?"

"No, no, Miss Barnes. I was, uh... told to let you know that one of your teammates, Lorcán Roth, is in the infirmary following a bizarre illness that inflicted him this morning. You may be excused from class today, if you'd like to check in with his family."

Haven's heart dropped, her lips parting as she found herself at a momentary loss for words. What kind of illness was bizarre? What harm would it do to him if she was being excused to visit? It sounded like he was on his death bed in the professor's tone of voice. "Uh... thank you. I think I'll go." She managed before turning to head straight back out of the building. Her worry and concern was evident in her hurried pace. She immediately pulled her phone from her bag and flipped it open. Her fingers began to swiftly type into it as two people immediately came to mind.

"Lorcan's in the infirmary? I'll be there soon. go on in without me if you get there first. I'm sure he'll be ok Rory"

Wings

"Are you ok, Ror? Are the Roth's ok? I just heard about Lorcan. I'll be there as soon as I can

Haven

With the most important texts sent, Haven tucked the phone into her bag as she made it out of the academic wing. She launched herself from the edge of the steps, ignorant of the gasps that followed her outburst as her worry blocked any unwanted attention from her mind. She soared over the intake house, and then over the administration building, and landed at the front of the infirmary within a minute.

Her unwavering steps carried her towards the glass doors of the entrance as her wings tucked in behind her. She had every intention to pass through them, hoping to be with Aurora or Rory as they waited for the news, until she caught sight of the white walls through the panes of the windows. Her body seized, refusing to take her any closer as she stopped just a few meters from the doors. Her heart yearned to go inside, and yet the memories that flashed through her head froze her muscles in place.

She tore her eyes away from the infirmary. She looked down at the brick under her feet, at her dirty sneakers, trying to free her mind of the images that terrorized her. Her eyes turned upwards, towards the top of the building and to the sky. She found temporary comfort there in the blue above. She wasn't in the trial. No one was going to strap her down to a table. She was free. The sky was there and waiting for her if she needed it. She was alive.

Her racing heart slowed, and her breath shook as she released it from her lungs. Her hands trembled as she wrung them at her sides. She wasn't going to make it inside. As desperately as she wanted to be with her team as they waited, she was going to have to let them know she'd support the Roth's from out here.

Steps sounded from behind her and Haven flinched. Her body willed itself to the left, out of the way of their path as they made their way by her and through the doors so casually. She envied them for their peace of mind; for their ability to withstand those sterile halls without thinking of pain and terror.

She staggered her way over to a tree nearby, to get away from the path, and placed her hand against it. The bark was warm from the morning light, rough against her calloused hands, and it provided another place to ground her. It was familiar, a natural feeling against her skin. She took a deep breath through her nose, picking up hints of the earthy scent the young oak provided.

This is real. I'm okay.

Her therapist was going to love this.

Haven turned herself around to sit at the base of the tree. Her wings stretched out beside her for comfort. Leaning back, Haven felt the welcoming sensation of bark against her feathers. Her worry for Lorcán settled in her gut next to the disappointment that plagued her now. She was too afraid to go inside. She couldn't be with Aurora or Lorcán's family while they fretted over their beloved's life.

Her hand searched for her phone again, and she sent another message to Rory in case he was already inside.

"I'm under a tree out front. I'll wait here for any news."

Wings

She couldn't tell him why she was outside. Not when they should be worried about their friend and not about her pain.

With a sigh, Haven rest the phone in her lap. She wanted it close, in case any of her messages caught their attention.

Steps approached from the right again, their footsteps soft clicks against the brick. Another person that would find it easy to go inside, no doubt. Haven looked at the grass in front of her and wondered how long it would take for it to be easy again. Her foot began to tap a restless rhythm against the ground as she waited for an update.

...

Calli came around the corner carrying a small bouquet of flowers. She didn't know if Lorcan would appreciate it or would even be able to accept it, but she thought she should show up with something. Despite her conversation with Harper she still felt guilty. A quick visit to see Lorc followed by checking in on Banjo.

As she got closer to the hospital Calliope's gaze landed on a familiar pair of wings. Haven appeared...upset? Calli had not known Haven to be as worried as she looked, though given recent events it's no surprise. Calli strode forward and as she got near, called out. "Haven? Are you okay?"

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Three Days Ago ...

The first step into the fresh air of the plateau was as sweet as it was bitter. She refused the first medic's offer of help out of her own stubbornness, instead allowing Harper to be taken away. Although she was worse off than Harper, Haven was too busy searching the chaos of the site for a particular head of black walnut hair and sky blue eyes.

She held her breath as she tallied each familiar face within the crowd. Her teammates, shocked and injured, were all out of the walls. Most of them already being tended to, and yet Haven did not feel relief-- not even when she saw Aurora's autumn hair-- until her eyes found Rory among them.

"Rory." The relief and desperation held within her croaking voice carried through the noise of the camp like a feather in the wind.

She took a step towards him, another wave of exhaustion passing through her muscles as the relief settled into her bones. He's alive. He's okay. The cuts that marred his skin and suit alarmed her, but she didn't care for how they had come to be or what had caused them. Not when he was standing there searching for her too. Not when she felt her knees grow weak as those clear eyes found hers.

She reached towards him with shaking hands, holding onto her strength for just a moment longer as he approached. The moment he was near, she allowed herself to collapse into his arms. She let herself sink onto the grass with him, unaware of her limp wings slumping against the grass behind her. He was here. He was safe.

If she had any tears left to shed, she would have wept again. She looked at him with red rimmed, puffy eyes and tried to convey the words she couldn't utter aloud with the emotion swelling behind them. They were both out. They were both okay.

Rory barely registered the pain as he jogged to Haven and wrapped her in his arms, going down to the ground with her as he squeezed with all his might. She was far worse off than he was, and that stung more than the feeling of air on the cuts across his body. His thoughts were a fog, and it was still hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. But in this moment, the only thing he cared about was that Haven was safe and in his arms. He didn’t make much sound, instead moving a hand to her hair to hold her close, his thumb gently rubbing the back of her head as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like he hadn’t breathed in hours.

He held her for a moment, before he could finally find words or a voice. He had seen the injuries, especially to her wings, from a mile away. As he broke the tight embrace, he slid a hand down her arm and to her hand to hold it. His eyes were red, threatening to water and tear up. But he smiled softly as he looked Haven over. ”I’m… I…” As per usual, words were lost on him again. He wanted to apologize, and he wanted to ask what happened. He wanted to know what had happened to her. He wanted to know who was responsible. He wanted to know if it was the person who left him injured.

But most importantly, he wanted her to be safe and ok.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little apologetic.

”Ok… next time, we’re not splitting up.” He seemed more on the verge of tears as he tried to crack a small grin, doing his best to make light of whatever Hell they had just experienced. He closed his eyes, swallowed, and focused to keep himself from breaking down. Breaking down into tears was what showers were for. For now, he had to stay strong. ”Have the healers checked you out yet?”

Haven had buried her face in Rory’s neck the moment he held her to him. His gentle swirls against the back of her head soothing any pain she may have felt by his tight embrace. This pain was welcome. His arms had become a refuge for her to take shelter within. Her own safe haven from the storm that remained after the torment within the trial.

Her eyes moved over the many cuts on his body as he pulled back from her. She needed to see every mark closely, ensuring none had cut too deep. Something about them seemed too familiar, and she felt a question rising from within as she looked into his eyes again. The tears welling in his sky blue eyes left her speechless. Her heart twisted in her chest and she offered comfort with a squeeze of his hand as he seemed to struggle for words. It was obvious that he had questions too.

Haven found herself willing to answer anything he asked. The heartbreak of reliving what she’d gone through was a price she was willing to pay to know what hell Rory had seen. She’d tell him everything he needed to know; about her pain, about her history, about her grief. She’d give herself over completely if only to keep him by her side.

In classic Rory fashion, the brave man tried to make a joke. Haven could only nod in response, her brows lifting as she tried to return his sad grin with her own. She lifted her free hand to his cheek as he fought the tears she knew he would let fall when he was alone. Her thumb delicately ran over his cheekbone, hoping to let him know that it was okay to cry with her there.

She shook her head as he looked at her again, her hand falling to press against his chest where his heart beat beneath her palm. “I had to make sure you were okay first.”

She looked between his eyes, running her tongue over her dry lips so she could make her words clear as she spoke them. “I kept worrying about you. The simulation told me you all were going to die.” Her eyes fell to his chest where she could physically feel his life beating against her skin, letting the rhythm soothe her. “It almost killed me.”

Rory squeezed Haven's hand back, his tears abated a little by a new emotion stirring deep in his chest: anger. Though, even that was dulled by the relief that everyone had made it out alive. ”I… think it did that with all of us. The simulation wanted me to choose…” His words trailed off. The end of that sentence wasn't pleasant, and he didn't want Haven to know what he had chosen quite yet. He shook his head, taking a deep breath. ”I… I'm just glad we all made it out alive.”

Haven lifted his hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss against one of his many cuts. “We can talk about it later… when we’re ready.” Her lips spread into a sad smile.

A healer approached to their left, allowing them each a moment to shake the horror from their minds. Haven didn’t protest when they offered to heal Rory first, even if Rory tried to himself. She knew her injuries would take the longest between the two of them. Her hand did not leave Rory’s despite it, choosing to lay on the grass beside him to give her sore body a break.

With Rory patched up, Haven closed her eyes as the healer moved onto her. She had just begun to relax for the first time in hours when she heard them. Jim’s signature bow-legged footsteps along with two foreign. Her body seized the moment she opened her eyes to see the Foundation representative towering over her, the memories of the simulation mixing with what she saw now. Her hand tightening around Rory’s was the only physical signal she gave to suggest she was in distress.

Torres couldn’t know the fear that Haven felt looking at her. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Even if the representative’s lips weren’t moving, Haven could hear the sneer clearly within her head. It rang through her.

Sub-class.

It was the only reason she let Rory slip from her fingers. Even still, Haven watched the group like a hawk as they took him into the Minotaur. Her eyes didn’t leave the vehicle once. Not even when she refused to let the healer work on her wings. She could hear their laboured breathing. Her other injuries had already taken a toll on their store of HZE’s, and she couldn’t bear the thought of allowing someone to touch her wings with Torres’s towering figure, and the place she’d been sent to by the simulation, haunting her now.

The healer instead chose to move onto her various bruises and cuts. Her forearms had just begun to look as scarred as they had been before the trial when she saw Jim and Rory exit the minotaur. She heard the words Jim exchanged with him, her curiosity peaking, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the meaning of them. She was too relieved knowing that Rory had made it out of the minotaur unscathed to bother asking as he returned to her.

As Rory returned, he seemed to be a bit lost in thought. He plopped down next to Haven, reaching a hand out to hold hers again as he stared off into the middle distance. He didn't want to believe it… Jim and Torres were just paranoid. But if they weren't… Rory looked to Haven, and a sharper pain struck his heart than anything the Trials themselves could strike. The thought that someone in Blackjack could have been involved In something like this, or even supported it, felt like a delusion.

But if one of them was…

Rory gave Haven's hand a squeeze as he looked her over, his eyes turning to her wings. His words were soft, as he had an inkling of what could have happened in there. ”Before we head back… can you please have them check your wings? I'll be right here.”

She had a feeling he would mention it the moment she saw his eyes turn to her wings. Her forest eyes glanced between his blues, their pain evident amongst the understanding that shone within them. Her nod of agreement was timid, and yet she still followed through by giving the same nod to the healer. She saw them exchange an appreciative glance with him before she felt their touch upon her feathers. She held onto Rory’s hand like it was a lifeline then, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt those rubber gloves upon her once more. Amma’s ominous curiosity mixed with the memories that flashed through her mind as the healer worked. She imagined a metal table underneath her, but she felt the cool grass grazing her feathers. Instead of the pain of her wings stretched taught, a soothing flow of energy passed through every muscle and barb. The missing feathers would need time to regrow, of course.

At least she wouldn’t have to wait to fly again.

Her eyes fluttered open once the healer finished, immediately searching for Rory, for the comfort he brought her. She allowed her hold on his hand to relax, hoping she hadn’t hurt him with her grip. Her voice, even though it was no longer hoarse, wasn’t more than a whisper when she spoke. “Thank you.”

Rory gave a soft smile and a nod, a throbbing pain coursing through his hand. He didn't mind it, though. If anything, the pain was keeping him from focusing more on Jim's potential assignment. As the healer left the two alone, Rory reclined in the grass for the moment and stared up towards the sky. His words were quiet and calm, his brows furrowed as he searched for the right words. ”After we… you know, get back and shower… I'm not trying to… I don't want to… gah.” He slapped his free palm into his forehead. Words were hard. Requests were hard. Feelings… that might be easier.

With his eyes closed and the back of his hand on his forehead as he desperately clawed for the right words, the weight of everything that had happened grew heavier and tighter on his chest. His voice became weaker and softer. ”I don't want to be alone tonight. Not like a hookup… I just… I don't know.” His voice trailed off.

Haven had taken the moment to stare into the open air above them too. With her mind so clouded, she yearned to jump into that open space and remain there for a while. She needed to forget about the trials, if only for a few hours. Her wings were healed now. They were safe. The one thing that kept her from taking off was her exhaustion, and the man beside her that tugged on her heartstrings as he failed to express himself.

With Rory’s eyes closed, he didn’t notice her move from her place beside him until she was leaning over him. She bent down, placing a gentle kiss on the healed skin of his palm. “I don’t want to be alone either. Maybe not for a while.” She murmured. Her eyes looked over his face, memories shifting from her new nightmares to the night they’d shared. It felt like it had happened ages ago.

“I need to fly for a bit… I need to feel that they’re okay.” She placed a kiss on his cheek this time. “I’ll come over to your dorm later… Promise.”

She promised him because she worried he’d doubt her. The simulated version of Mei’s words still hung over her, as it no doubt hung over him. She needed to prove that it was wrong. She’d already decided what she would do to earn his complete trust in the woods from her past.

A small smile crept on Rory’s lips at the affection and promise. He opened his eyes again, taking her and her healed wings in. She had a way of improving his mood, even after everything. He propped himself up on his elbow and turned towards her, nodding towards the open sky above. ”I’ll leave the window open for you, then… but I think I’m going to lie here for a little longer before heading back. I’ve got some things to think over.”

^{Interaction: Rory, @Webboysurf}

---

_{Location: Strigidae Dorms - PRCU}

Take on Me: #3.008 Eggs in One Basket

---

_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Big Birds Don't Cry

Haven stared at the neatly kept uniform within her closet. Wet droplets fell from her locks and from the tip of her chin onto the soft material of the towel she clutched to her. The uniform sat there as a reminder to her that things were different now. The changes that the Foundation brought with them hung over her head like a hornets nest. Harmless where it clung to it's perch, and yet one shift in the wrong direction and the nest would be alive with malicious intent. Who would it sting first to protect it's survival?

Not only was the school different, but she was too. She no longer felt as if she could breeze through the campus with the ease in which she had before. She was always checking if people were too close to her. Her wings, patchy where her feathers were beginning to regrow, were kept close to her so that they couldn't come within anyone's reach. She no longer proudly stretched them in the sunlight as she walked between Rory's dorm and her own. The instinctual need to keep them close, to keep them safe, was ever present.

She didn't hide the damage done to them. If anyone looked, she stared back. A wild edge to her gaze that dared them to speak of it. The only one who didn't receive her challenge was the only person she felt comfortable to stand beside... or lie beside. Rory's presence had quickly become one of the few places she could relax. His closeness was something she craved. Even when she soared over the island, or when she had sat in her favorite tree to take some time away from the busyness of campus, she wished he was next to her.

It was a feeling she'd never experienced before. The feeling she thought she'd given a name to in the trial. The feeling that could be expressed in three little words. Words that Rory had already spoken to her, in his innocent way, that had not been mentioned since. In some way, she figured they were already expressing these feelings in a different form. It was said in the way they touched each other, the way they comforted each other when their dreams kept them from sleeping, and in the way that Rory left his window open for her each night.

The thought of his open window brought a small smile to her lips as she reached past her uniform and for the green flannel that hung with her casual clothes. She didn't feel ready to share those words with Rory yet. Not with the new changes to the school and the weight of the trial distracting her from which direction her heart was being pulled. They both needed time to sort things out and to settle in to their altered minds before they could make that leap into the unknown.

Careful hands pulled on a black tank top and then the green flannel. Less careful hands then tugged a pair of underwear and jeans up her full hips. She sat on her bed as she adorned her feet with socks. The first time she'd touched the unmade mess since after the bonfire. The only thing she missed about it was it's position in the room and the peace in knowing that she wouldn't whack Rory's face or the dorm wall when she had restless sleep. It had happened one too many times already, but she wasn't about to ask Rory to move his bed for her.

To think that she'd have to spend the day without him already had her feeling on edge. Her gaze drifted towards the printed out class schedule that hung by her calendar. This year was already going to be challenge enough without the weight of the trials on her shoulders. She was on her final year, held back because of poor grades, and she wasn't sure now if she could pull it off. Sitting in classes for hours on end felt like it would drive her wild. One class in particular, shoved into the end of the week to give her team more time to heal, had the hairs on the back of her neck standing tall.

Sparring, Torres.

Haven averted her eyes, hands trembling ever so subtly as they pulled on her sneakers. The memories screamed at her, like the winged woman had screamed, in the back of her mind. Ever present when she was alone. The simulation may have made it up. Her perception of Torres could be warped by her nightmares. Did that mean she could face her without feeling panic bubble up her throat? Rory knew about her fears; about the missing students at the Foundation Institute. He knew that she was terrified that she might disappear too, as irrational of a fear as it seemed. She would go only because her team would be there, because Rory would be there. She knew her friends had her back and that was enough for her to face her fear with them.

Haven shook her wings out behind her as she stood. A poor attempt to shake the memories from her head before she would step out into campus. She grabbed her schoolbag from the desk as she passed it, yet her steps faltered as they reached the door to her room. Her ears listened for movement outside it, and she was met with silence. Her roommates had gone already. She wouldn't have to breeze past their sympathy on her way out.

As she made her usual path through the dorm, back carefully turned towards the wall if she passed any student, she considered knocking on Harper's or Banjo's door. Other than Lorcan and Aurora's sleepover the night of the trail, she hadn't heard anything from her teammates. It was unlike her not to reach out to them. If she hadn't been so engrossed in her own recovery, or in Rory's presence, she would have liked to check in on them. She had to remind herself that they were likely feeling the same way, and that's why they hadn't reached out to her either.

With a soft sigh, Haven continued out into the morning light. It warmed her feathers, and the autumn breeze cooled her skin. She was half tempted to ditch classes to enjoy the weather, yet she knew it would do her no good. She needed to focus this year.

Well, focus about as well as she could with the trials haunting her every step, the Foundation hanging overhead, and no doubt more challenges on the way.

Pacific Royal had never felt more like home, and more like a threat, than it ever had.

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

---

_{Location: Southern Plateau - PRCU}

Hope in Hell #2.056: Big Birds Don't Cry

---

_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Wake Me Up Before You Dodo

"Goodbye, Haven."

The words were so simple, and yet they carried the weight of a life in their meaning. Uttered so softly, as if the speaker knew of the sacrifice they were committing. Did the puppeteer feel remorse? Did they value the soul they were sacrificing for their cause?

Haven didn't have the time to consider it.

She watched the face of her other-- her own face-- as she felt those fingertips latch onto the uplinks. Her signature determination displayed well upon the tanned visage. The crease in her brows that came with it. Brown lashes lowered over those eyes the color of a lush forest at dawn. Her golden brown locks falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward. Those faint, everlasting scars that adorned her arms. Tawny feathers splayed wide behind those toned shoulders. Haven absorbed every feature as shock heightened her senses.

Time seemed to slow down in her panic ridden state. She felt the racing of her heart become a metronomic pounding in her chest. She heard the rush of air that entered her lungs as she took a desperate breath. She smelled the faint traces of copper, fear laden sweat, acrid oil, and earth that covered her skin, suit, and feathers. Her other carried her own scent of moss and petrichor.

As the edges of her uplinks began to tear away from her skin, bringing her closer to whatever fate would come by trapping her within this nightmare, Haven saw it.

What once was the form of her other, kneeling so menacingly over her body, suddenly became lines upon lines of code. It ran across her vision like leaves in the wind.

As quickly as it came, it was gone. Flickering out like a strike of lightning. What replaced it was a darkness similar to a night on a new moon.

Her uplinks clattered onto the floor beside her. She did not reach for them. Instead, she stared into the darkness above her, petrified where she laid. Was this it? Was this her new fate? Had the simulation won?

Above her, just barely, Haven could make out the faint lines of a honeycomb shape in the ceiling. Her eyes slowly followed the ridges to the closest wall, and then down as far as they could see without moving her head. More honeycomb indents followed down the length of the wall. This was... It was what the trial looked like without the simulation coding.

Haven's eyes returned to stare at the ceiling above her. The events of the last few hours began to flash through her mind. From that first step into the trial, to the feeling of Rory's hand in her own, to their separation in that blazing room...

Where is he?

...to the cage, the painful cries of that woman, to her first battle lost, that cold metal table, her wings stretched impossibly taught, the hopeless feeling that crushed her spirit, the masks turned to ash, Amma saved her...

Did Amma survive?

...Amma's power spread through her calamus and vanes, Aurora's battered face, those monsters that tore at her skin, the wall that swallowed her saviour, Aurora's hand, her own dismantled and bloodied form, she let go of Aurora's hand...

I left her alone. I didn't mean to.

...the hair salon, her mother's laugh, the broken toy, the motel room, the disappointment, the pounding on the bathroom door...

It wasn't real.

...her sister's voice, the sorrowful words she spoke, the soft caress against her feathers, the regret that pierced her heart, the betrayal of a feather lost...

Anabel... I'm so sorry.

...not them, anyone but them, the pain they promised, the pain they inflicted, another feather stolen, ugly duckling, little freak, their hate, their disgust, their anger...

Was it real?

...the second escape from those girls, the second escape from that home, the forest, the warning shot, little bird, the shotgun reloading, she ran for her life, she was so tired of running...

Am I alive?

...the cabin, the darkness within, she fell, she crashed, she couldn't move, the false promises told to her, the name that should not be spoken, her other's foot pressed into her side, tan arms struggled against tan arms, more pain was promised, more pain inflicted...

I almost died.

Haven lifted shaking hands to her body, and she found that her injuries remained. The tender spots on her skin where bruises would form, the shredded flesh of her ribs and thigh, the cuts and scratches that adorned her palms, arms, and cheeks, the split skin upon her lip, and the wetness under her eyes. She couldn't free her wings from under her to check the damage wrought there. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how they looked.

It was real.

All of her pain, and all of the aching in her heart, welled up within her until she was overwhelmed by it. The dam to her soul broke. Whatever embers remained of her spirit were washed away by a wave of despondence. She hated the feeling so much that she choked on the sob that threatened to escape her. She wrung her fists beside her. She pounded them on the floor. She pressed her eyes together as tight as she could to prevent the tears from falling.

Yet they still trickled down her temples and once again pooled beside her. She held her breath, desperate to keep those sobs contained for as long as she could. Maybe she'd pass out before they erupted from her chest. Maybe she would wake up and the pain would be gone. She'd be surrounded by her team, by her friends, by her loved ones again. They wouldn't hurt her. They wouldn't betray her. She'd find her fire again, and she would move on.

The minutes wore by and the tears continued. Haven knew that it was only a matter of time until she couldn't hold her breath any longer. She pressed her brows together as she felt herself growing light-headed. Her attempt to hold it back was in vain. She still felt the anguish clawing it's way out up her throat.

Haven took a deep breath only when it became too much to bear. She felt the oxygen return to her blood, savoured the feeling of it for one precious moment, and then she lost control. A whine escaped her throat, and then sobs soon wracked her body. They filled the silence of the dead room with her grief. The aching in her side worsened with every movement and even that didn't stop them. It felt like they would never stop. As if the tears that flowed from her eyes were supplied by an endless cavern somewhere deep within the crevices of her body.

The sobs soon strained her throat until it was raw. They made her battered body feel like it burned in cold fire. And in some twisted, heartbreaking way, her weeping grounded her in reality. It made her feel alive.

I'm alive. This is real.

The aching in her chest lightened.

I'm alive.

The words repeated in her mind until she managed to catch her breath. Her sobs relaxed into feeble whimpers. The adrenaline that had been coursing through her slowly began to dissipate. Her body soon weakened with each inhale and exhale.

Did the others make it? Should I consider myself lucky?

She sniffed, her tears slowing to a stop as the lake within her dried up. She wanted to get up. To look for her friends. Anything could have happened to them. They could be worse off than herself. She tried to move her arms, her legs, but her body didn't respond. She'd overdone it. She'd lost too much blood. The fatigue was settling in like a warm blanket over her and she didn't have the energy to fight it.

Haven's eyelids grew heavy, each pass of her lids threatening to be her last glimpse of the honeycomb above her. Her breaths became slow and shallow. A quiet, steady rhythm thumped within her chest. Her exhaustion eventually won over her will, and pulled her into into a dreamless state.

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Haven was just past the age of twelve when virumosis took effect. Everything suddenly became so loud, so clear, and so bright and colorful. She could go longer without breathing. The heat of summer in a building with no A/C and the freezing temperatures of winter did not bother her any longer. She hungered for more food than the girl's home could provide.

Most importantly, the growing pains that affected her arms and legs moved into the center of her back. It made sleeping uncomfortable, chores even more taxing, and even something as simple as sitting in a chair a sore area. These difficulties would follow her for the rest of her life.

Just when Haven had grown used to these heightened senses, and grown comfortable with the growing pains, she felt them. Small pricks of pain similar to a splinter in her skin at the center of her back. As if her body was expelling something foreign and sharp. When she reached behind her to touch the area, she felt a grid of small pins growing between her shoulder blades.

She didn't go to anyone for help. Part of her knew that she was different now. Changed into something natural, and yet unwelcome in any place where prejudice lived. Her friend's chest was growing, and it was on her back where something sprouted instead.

She snuck into the bathroom in the middle of the night one day and stood facing away from the mirror. With a small handheld she snatched from a supervisor, she inspected her bare back in the dim light from the window. What she saw set her heart racing. She ran her fingers over the changed skin, finding that the small pins had loosened and become soft. Downy feathers sat where her skin had once been smooth and unblemished. Their color a mottled shade of brown. Wide eyes stared into the handheld mirror all night as delicate fingers ran themselves over the growths, wondering what further change was to come with this new development on her body.

The growing pains worsened. The downy feathers continued to grow, and two small bundles of bone and flesh stretched her skin where the patch of feathers remained. They took a triangular shape, and soon she could feel them moving with the muscles in her back. The night she realized she was growing wings was a night she'd never forget.

Haven stole a bundle of gauze from the sparse nurse room and wrapped them down. It made her chest even flatter, bringing about bullying from the girls who had become something beautiful, and hardly hid the bump on her back. She wore loose shirts and the only jacket she possessed to hide it further. The home didn't have much to offer, but the girls who dreamed of joining wealthy families only saw it as another opportunity to bully her.

Eventually, Haven allowed her only friend to see her growing wings. She'd never forget the fear she felt in sharing them either. If she lost her one connection to the girls home because she was different, she was sure that she would fade into the bleak paint on the walls and remain there forever.

Yet her friend was kind and sympathetic. She embraced Haven's new body. She helped loosen pin feathers as more began to sprout. She learned what she could from their limited library access, helping Haven learn how to wash and care for them.

She offered soothing words when Haven shared her fear of what was to come when the wings were bigger. She stood up for Haven when the girls were too harsh about the small girl's flat chest, even when she herself had become the most beautiful of them all. She was the first person that Haven could truly call home.

Yet as time passed, for all of Haven's attempts to keep them hidden, the gauze could no longer hide them. They were the size of a small raven's wingspan when the first girl noticed their tips peeking out of the bottom of her t-shirt one night.

Haven's found sister couldn't keep their curiosity away from her. She couldn't fight them off, either. They overwhelmed the winged girl. They tore her shirt from her back, and then the gauze. They were disgusted with her. They hurt her with their words, and then they hurt her with their hands. It went on for days until the supervisor found them. The supervisor did nothing for her. Their own disdain was clear in their sneers and the blind eye they turned to her pain.

Haven bore their disgust, their fear, their anger, and she in turn felt it too. It gathered in the small of her back and in the pit of her stomach. It gave her the courage to leave the girls home. It gave her the spirit to brave the world on her own. It gave her the will to try her wings for the first time. It gave her the strength to get back up again and again when she crashed. She took their hatred and she turned it into the love she feels for herself and her wings.

No one would steal that away from her. No one would touch her wings again. She became as free as the wind, and she remained there. Suspended in the air and untouchable by anyone or anything.

Until she was caught by an angel hunter.

Then sent to a facility for people also changed by a virus, and sent again to a place where she would find another family. Where she would find that they loved her for all of her differences and for all of the soul she would allow them to see.

---

_{Location: Southern Plateau - PRCU}

Hope in Hell #2.050: Wake Me Up Before You Dodo

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_{Interaction(s): The janitor controlled the simulation, apparently?}

Previously: I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Haven had taken one step forwards into the forked hallway, and suddenly found herself alone. As if her fingers had slipped from between her autumn haired friend's without the slightest sensation of doing so. Panic immediately bubbled up her throat, choking her so that she couldn't call out for her friend. She was alone again. Vulnerable. Somehow, her surroundings didn't instantly ignite her fear. Instead, it left her shell-shocked and wistful. She no longer stood in the pure white hallways of the Foundation. Instead, she found herself frozen in a place she hadn't dreamed of in months.

The room was small. It's walls a discolored white, covered in shelves upon shelves of bottles leaking goo, plastic bowls, and tools she had never been able to name at that age. The floor was dingy; clean, yet worn and old from years of use. It's once speckled pattern lost to time in a few patches. A small table sat in the corner, only two chairs set beside it. On top of it sat a bent and torn drawing book, open to the page of a simple, poorly half-coloured dove. Broken crayons strewn about the table beside it. A small, well-used sippy cup of water was on it's side at the center of the table. Next to a plastic cup with a yellow dandelion inside. A free floral ornament to pretty the place up.

Cigarette smoke drifted in through the cracks of the door to Haven's left, followed by the muffled laughter of women from the room beyond. Haven took a step towards it, one particular lilting voice catching onto her mind and pulling, but felt something crunch beneath her foot. She looked down as she lifted her foot to see a toy, broken from the impact. It had once been one of her favorites.

The chatter from the salon lifted again, drawing Haven's attention back to that voice that had faded from her memory. She couldn't remember exactly how it sounded. It could have been a supplement made by the simulation, to imitate the sound of a mother's voice so that she would feel beckoned by it. Even in her dreams she thought that the voice she heard sounded too soft, or too different in pitch. It didn't matter much.

What Haven wondered now, even as she feared the simulation was toying with her heart again, was if the technology was good enough to dig deep into her memories. To find a clear image of a mother she'd buried within her heart, long lost to the stores in her mind. If she could just see it once, she wouldn't forget it again.

She stepped over the toys scattered about the floor, careful not to break any more, ignorant of the complications of allowing the simulation to win the upper hand. She took the wood door knob into her hand, trying not to let how small it felt in her hand now affect her, and pulled it open. One glimpse was all she needed.

The door swung open, and Haven found herself looking into a new scene from her dreams. Another place she'd found herself as a child, where her mother would take her when the harsh winter made sleeping in a car unbearable. She stepped onto old carpet, and her eyes scanned the tacky motel room for any signs of her mother. She found nothing but empty McDonald's wrapping paper on the nightstand and clothes strewn about the floor.

Haven took a deep breath. An attempt to maintain her composure as disappointment washed over her. Her torn ribs protested against the movement. She winced as the pain rocketed up her side. The motel bed was looking about as comfortable as she remembered it feeling. As much as she yearned to curl up within it's old bed linen again, she forced herself to remember where she was and what fresh hell might be waiting for her through the next door.

She needed to push on.

Haven made it a few steps into the room before the door she'd left behind began to shake against it's hinges. A terrifying knock sounding on the other side. Her heart leapt in her chest, that knock jolting a memory to the front of her mind. She looked towards the TV next to her and found the same re-run of her favorite public broadcasting cartoon playing. It was a memory of the day she'd been taken away.

The pounding at the door was protective services, come to take her away. Except now, maybe this time it was the masked men. Come to finish her off while her mind was in the past. She moved quicker now, her steps faltering with each bang against the motel door. She reached for the handle to the bathroom. The place she'd hidden away from her mom's overnight guests, the place where she'd taken refuge when she was alone and scared at night, and the place she was hopeful to find safety in now.

She gripped the metal handle and pulled, ushering herself through it with relief when she saw the familiar bathtub sitting before her. She closed the door behind her and locked it. She could hear the rustling of keys outside the motel door. It was the clerk, come to aid her kidnappers because of his civic duty to the law. She backed away from the door, and when her calves felt the cold plastic of the tub against them she stepped into the tub.

The motel door was open now, and she heard their feet against the carpet. Haven lowered herself into a crouch despite the pain in her thigh and side. She hugged her knees to her chest. The blood on her knee felt cold now. How long had she been bleeding? How much longer would she last before she fainted from the loss?

The footsteps were at the door now. Haven shut her eyes as the handle jiggled. A demand to open up came through the plywood. She hugged her knees tightly as her body began to tremble. "Not real."

The door handle jiggled again, threatening to rip the door apart as it grew more violent. It grew louder and louder in a crescendo of fear until the door burst open with a sudden crack and...

There was silence.

"Not real." Haven whispered again, as if the mantra was what had stopped the noise outside her safe space. It did not provide her any relief; it filled her with dread. Was this when the woman would begin to wail again? Would the simulation throw her back into that cage, and eventually back onto that table? Perhaps it was some twisted loop in which she would end up in the place of that winged woman, like she'd seen minutes ago.

She heard a door open to her right. The cage door. She didn't move from her position this time.

"There you are." A gentle voice, belonging to someone she had once called a sister, sounded next to her.

Slowly, Haven looked up at the figure with bleary eyes. She blinked away the tears that formed as she laid eyes upon her old friend. She looked the same as the day Haven left her.

"I... I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." Her voice was soft and sorrowful as she sat on the bed Haven now found herself on. It sat at the end of a row, in the darkest corner of the girls home's dormitory. Haven sat facing the open room with her wings to the wall.

"Look at what they did to your wings." She said as she reached a hand out to caress the tawny feathers.

Haven shuddered at the touch, but she did not pull away. It had been so long since someone touched them this lovingly... so long since her sister had helped her with the pain of her existence. A sigh escaped her lips. "I wish you were real." She murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry I left you."

Her words had barely left her lips before she felt a sharp tug against a primary feather. A bolt of lightning traveled up the length of her wing and buried itself deep in her back. The betrayal stung her right in her heart. She cried out in her anguish.

"Oh, come on. You didn't leave me anything to remember you by." Her sister chided, all sympathy and love gone from her voice. Haven pushed herself off of the bed, the entire right side of her body burning as she did so. She whirled around to face her sister, who now stood twirling her long consolation prize between her fingers.

"They're really going to kill you, this time."

Haven's heart twisted with fear as fresh tears escaped down her cheeks. She turned away from her betraying sister to face the open door at the end of the dormitory. Where she expected to hear black loafers on aged wooden flooring, she instead heard the snickers and leers that already haunted her nightmares.

"Haaaveeen."

"Ugly Duckling, where are youuu?"

"Show yourself, freak!"

"No... Not them." Her hands clenched at her sides, nails pressing into her skin. She couldn't stop shaking. Even her voice shook when she begged once more. "Anyone but them."

"Just accept it, Haven." Her found sisters voice lilted from behind her. "They should have gotten it over with a long time ago."

Haven suddenly felt a kick to her back where her wings met at the bundle of feathers. The breath was knocked from her chest and she fell forwards, catching herself with her knees and wrists. She felt lightning crack within her side again. The pain overwhelmed her with nausea. The footsteps from the hallway poured into the room, followed by taunting sneers and promises of pain. She wheezed from where she crawled towards a bed, desperate to get herself back onto her feet. She wanted to take them on standing. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

"There's the Ugly Duckling." The tallest girl spit at her before Haven felt a foot connect with her shredded thigh. Blood dripped onto the floor in the path of the girl's shoe as it returned to her side. Haven faltered against the side of the bed, choking back a whimper. "Little freak." The next kick came to her ribs, and Haven screeched. She released the bed to slide to the floor, reaching to clutch her side. A warm and wet sensation met her palms and fingers.

Two girls grabbed her, one arm in each set of hands. Haven struggled against them as they drug her to the center of the group that had gathered, faces she recognized from her dreams scowling at her. Masks covered the faces she couldn't remember. The tallest girl stepped up behind Haven and suddenly another sharp tug had a second feather torn loose. Haven screamed, her grief not only for her pain but for her beautiful wings. The girls released her, letting her crash onto those worn wooden floors. She hardly had a moment to breathe before the rest of the girls began their torment. The top girls always took the first bites before the rest could get their piece.

They placed their anger, their frustration with the world, and their disgust onto the poor, winged girl. The freak. The ugly duckling. The hypie. Haven took each blow, absorbing it all once again like she had those many years ago. The pain had her seeing stars with each rattle of her skull. The anguish had her seeing red. She couldn't let them kill her. Not this group of fucked up girls. Not her first tormentors. They couldn't win. Whoever was really doing this to her could not win. Haven didn't want to lose this easily.

Amidst the beating, Haven turned herself onto her stomach. She placed her hands by her head, and once she felt a lull in the pain, she shoved herself up-- only to fall again as her right leg failed her. The group around her erupted in laughter, their young and hateful voices filling the dormitory and overwhelming Haven's ears. She felt fingers splay through her hair and grip it tightly. The hand lifted her head up and back, and as she looked up at her aggressor, she was shocked to see a pair of gold and green eyes looking back at her.

"Don't you think this is a little pathetic?"

Haven's brows furrowed, her bloodied lip breaking away from her top to take a breath now that she had a moment to recover. Her eyes scanned the tanned face, the small nose, and the full cheeks framed by golden brown hair that looked down at her. She thought that she'd already seen her other self, so... who was this?

"I know you have more left in you. So get up. Are you really going to let these little girls win?"

She could hear the girls stepping back from her now. An opportunity to let her stand. The hand in her hair loosened as her other leaned back on her heels. It was obvious that the simulation was toying with her now. Haven hung her head and took a breath through her nose. She tasted the metallic tang of blood on her split lip. Every place the girls bruised her ached, filling her with that same pain and anger as it had long ago. She took that anguish and once again put it in her muscles.

Haven once again laid her palms flat beside her head, and slowly began to push herself off of the floor. The efforts had her shaking as she propped herself up on her knees, hissing through her teeth as she put weight on her right side. Blood dripped onto the floor and Haven ignored it's warning. She ignored the hateful eyes that bore down upon her as she fought to stand. The green and gold set watched her with no sympathy within them. Yet the moment Haven found herself standing on her feet, swaying as she tried to gain her balance, those eyes lit up as her other smiled.

"Atta girl. Now, run!" She exclaimed, bolting to her feet as she ran towards the door at the end of the room. She was fast and nimble, and her feet didn't make a sound on the creaky flooring. Nor did the larger, tawny wings that graced her back leave any trail of wind behind her.

Haven put all of her strength into her legs as she took off after her. Her battered body aching with each movement. She stumbled, nearly catching against an outstretched foot from the tallest girl as she passed. Hateful cries erupted from behind her as they began to chase. Haven didn't look back at them, eyes fixed on the door that would provide her escape from this horrible room where she'd been subject to their youthful hate. Desperation evident in her features as the girls followed her with vicious intent, her heartbeat racing once again. She reached the doorway and hastily pushed herself through it.

Wooden floors abruptly eroded into dark soil and detritus where Haven placed her foot next. Tall trees loomed around her, their lichen covered bark dark against the lush browns and greens of the forest. She recognized these trees and the path that lead through them. Her feet did not falter as she continued running. Her eyes searched the tree line for her other, and for the cabin she knew awaited at the end of the path.

A loud pop of power erupted in the forest to her right. Her stray hairs catching in the wind from the object that whizzed by her head. Just as she registered what that noise meant, the bark of the tree to her left erupted, splintering into chunks that flung themselves at her face. Haven ducked as her steps faltered, wincing against the thick splinters of wood that pelted her.

"Found you, little bird!" A gruff, commanding voice sounded from where the crack originated. The clicks of a shotgun reloading carried through the quiet woods in its wake.

The words set Haven's feet into motion again. She knew who that voice belonged to. She knew that if he caught her this time, he wouldn't allow her to live. Her feet dug into the forest floor as she ran, a trail of blood left among the leaves and dirt. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air.

"Aren't you tired of runnin'?" He called before another boom shook the forest. This time Haven felt the shot zip by her left leg, the pellets embedding themselves into the earth with small thunks.

She pressed onwards despite the heart ache that his words caused her. As desperately as she wanted to live, to escape this trial and it's horrors, she was tired of running. She'd been running her whole life. Even as a child, she was running from her mother's past. As a teenager, she ran from whatever system wanted to control her life. She was running from the fear of being different. She was running from whoever would claim her as a hyperhuman. Her time at PRCU seemed like a small period in which she'd stayed in one place. Yet even now as things were changing, Haven felt the urge to run from it. The instinctual need to place some distance between her soul and anything that challenged it. Whether that challenge came from a new person of power that threatened her safety, or from the growing love she had for her teammates. One particular teammate came to mind, and Haven felt tears blurring her vision.

Then between the treeline just ahead, there it stood. A beacon of hope made of wood and glass revealed itself at the end of the path. She was no longer running from her fears. Now she was running towards her hope. She blinked those tears back and dug her heels into the dirt. She heard the gun reloading again and knew it was only a matter of time before his aim fired true. She had to make it back for her team. For Rory. She had to tell him that she didn't want to run anymore. That she would unpack that bag and throw it out. Even if the Foundation, anything, threatened her happiness, she wanted to stay and fight for it.

She reached the steps of the porch and nearly tripped on them in her haste.

"I've got you, little bird." The voice sounded from the edge of the tree line. She heard the gun cock, and the whoosh of his breath as he leveled the barrel at her.

Haven grasped the knob and pulled, hurling herself through the door just as she heard him fire. The pellets imbedded themselves in the door where her head would have been seconds ago. She shoved off of the porch and into the darkness inside the cabin, and found herself falling.

The darkness transformed into branches covered in green. Light filtered through them from a source above. They scratched at her skin and tugged at her hair and feathers. She reached out around her, trying to catch onto one of them to stop her fall, but her hands continued to slip and tear where she couldn't find purchase. She cried out as she tumbled through the canopy. She fell through empty space until she landed on the soft dirt of the forest floor with a thud.

Haven laid still for a moment until her body twitched. She wheezed as her head tried to wrap itself around what happened. She hadn't fallen far. If she had, she knew that she would have felt the crack of bones breaking upon impact. Where she laid the new forest, rich with dark green pine and large, old trees spun around her. Two sets of legs, arms, golden brown heads, and large tawny wings melded together into one form as her other flew in from between the cedars and firs before her other silently landed beside her. The forest stopped spinning just as Haven looked up to see her disappointed gaze.

"You could have been so much more than this, you know." Her other spoke, but the words didn't make any sense. "If you had only chosen a different path four years ago, you would be as powerful as this."

Her other extended her wings behind her, showing off the grand size of them. They had to be at least two feet longer in diameter than her own. "He could have showed them more love than our human sister ever had. He could have blessed you, and you would have become the strongest in his cause."

"Well, besides Katja." She shrugged as she allowed her wings to fold again behind her.

Haven's brows knitted together as she closed her eyes, trying to process what her other was telling her. She shifted her body on the dirt, knowing that she had to get up again but unable to muster the strength to do so. She already knew who her other meant by he, and yet she wanted to deny it.

"If only you had let him in, in that meeting long ago. He would have offered you more comfort than Pacific Royal or Blackjack ever has. He could have been the father you never had."

Haven grit her teeth and spat hoarse words into the dirt. "Hyperion could never be like a father. He hurt the innocent. He deserved the fate that came to him."

Her other's face contorted with fury. She stepped forwards to press her foot against Haven's bloody side. "You cling to the hope that the world will accept you, and you are blinded by it. Even some of your own kind, those that dirty his name in search of their own cause, think of you as weak. Hyperion would have never called you a sub-class."

Haven could only respond with a whine as the boot pressed further into her. She grasped her other's ankle, nails digging into the cotton that separated keratin from flesh. The pressure only increased, and Haven allowed it to roll her onto her back only to rid herself of the pain. She panted where she laid, each breath eliciting agony from her side.

"The Foundation will clip your wings, and you will wish that you had placed your hope in his cause." Her other placed each foot on other side of Haven, looking down at her with an expression similar to pity. Haven looked up at her with what little defiance she had left. That fire within her feeling more like burning embers now. "But it's too late, now."

Her other bent down to her knees, straddling Haven's waist. She was careful not to kneel on Haven's wings where they laid. Even in the simulation, her other respected the preciousness of their existence. "The Foundation is here, and I don't think I can let them have you."

Haven recognized the threat hidden beneath her other's words. She knitted her brows together, baring her teeth as she tried to look like a force to be reckoned with. "They won't take me. I won't let them. My team won't let them." She lifted her arms and reached for her other, hoping to push her off of her.

"Your team? You precious Blackjack? They spat in his face." Her other said as she grabbed her by the wrists. The two wrestled with their arms as Haven struggled to free herself. "They deserve the fate that is coming to them now. They're going to die, and the Foundation will claim that it was in Hyperion's name. Even though one among you joined his cause."

Haven continued to struggle beneath her, and yet her other's words hit her right in the chest. "That's not true. This isn't real. You just want me to fear it."

Her other shoved Haven's arms to her side and released them, but just as quickly she placed her hands on Haven's throat. Haven uttered an angry cry, and her own hands grabbed onto the fingers that threatened to squeeze the life out of her. The fear of death overwhelmed her, sending adrenaline rushing into her arms and fingertips. Her heart beat faster, and she felt strength returning as she began to pry those hands away.

"This is real, little bird. This is a message to Pacific Royal, to your precious Blackjack. And if you won't die for the cause, whether it’s on that table or by my hands, I will make sure your soul doesn't leave this trial."

Haven gasped for air as those hands released her throat, her own hands moving too slowly to catch her other's wrists as they extended past her chin. They moved towards her crown, where they grabbed onto the neural uplink on her temples. Haven's eyes widened, terror evident on her face, as she realized what her other was going to do.

"Goodbye, Haven." Her other whispered before she tore the uplinks from her skin, and disconnected the winged girl from the simulation.

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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - PRCU}

Hope in Hell #2.044: I Wanna Hold Your Hand

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_{Interaction(s): Aurora @Melissa}

Previously: A Name Unspoken

"Maybe we can circle back around... before I found Haven, I felt someone-"

"NO!"

"Tell everyone - I'm --!"

Thank you for bringing Tiamat home.

Haven's body trembled as it remembered that hateful voice. The pain and anguish it had brought her, that cold metal against her back-

Amma had been pulled into hell so easily...

The woman wailed as her wing was cut from her, a painful symphony that echoed in Haven's heart. Her own wings were stretched so tightly she thought they would be pulled from her body. They were going to pull her soul out of her.

Blood trickled past her hip and knee. Her pain was growing as each second passed. She wanted to crumble to the floor, but she feared she wouldn't get back up again. Her whole body ached. Her heart ached. Haven's hold on Aurora's hand tightened, as if she would be stolen from her too.

What was Amma trying to tell them?

What name did she choose?

The lights at the end of the stretching hallway began to flicker out one by one. That horrible laugh rattling her heart inside her chest like she'd rattled that cage. Soon the only light that remained illuminated the frightened girls where they stood.

"They'll attack you at your lowest when you think you've gotten away far enough. When you think you're safe."

The words played themselves over and over in Haven’s mind as she stared into the darkness left in that laugh's wake. Their surroundings so silent that Haven swore she could hear their thundering heartbeats.

"I... I don't know how much more I can take." She breathed. Her eyes finally turned to meet Aurora’s; her gaze distant and anguished. Her mind was still back in that lab, yet she wasn’t consumed by the memory. She was fortunately, and unfortunately, aware of where she was and who she was. “We need to get out of here.”

Aurora’s eyes did not leave the wall where the chasm had come and gone, her baby blues remaining locked on the exact place where Amma had been swallowed whole by the void. Her hand did not cease to tremble and quiver, that last whorl of the raven haired girl’s power felt like it was continuously encircling her skin although she had already absorbed the energy bestowed upon her.

As the pair stood there in shock, the redhead could feel the winged girl’s grip strengthen on her hand. Out of habit, she squeezed back, an action that instantly brought her thoughts towards a certain boy, who’s warm ember eyes were all she wanted to see in that moment. Where he was in this chaos, she didn’t know, and the notion made her heart ache. She desired nothing more than to be by his side, the place where she felt safest; after all, they had planned on sticking together.

Fighting back the bile that rose in the back of her throat, she turned to Haven, her lips pulled taught and her forehead strained, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. “You came from that direction, right?” She asked, nodding towards the left side of the hallway. “I think Amma said that she sensed someone else before she found you. Maybe we can retrace your steps? There’s strength in numbers, whoever it may be.”

Haven slowly turned her head to the left, looking back the way that she and Amma had come. She could figure out the way back, but… It meant she would be heading back towards that terrible room. Close again to the mangled body that would haunt her even in reality.

Aurora had a point, and Haven wasn’t sure if they could make it the rest of the way in their state. She knew the redhead was exhausted and her shredded thigh would slow them down. Would it be as slow as Amma’s ankle had been? She visibly shivered as she wondered if it even mattered. It felt like the simulation would swallow them up no matter how hard they tried.

“Yeah… We can,” she took a shaky breath, “We can go back. I can handle it.”

The two girls, battered and bruised, began to make their way down the dimly lit hallway with fear in their eyes but hope in their hearts. The horrors they had seen were beyond imagination, but they’d have to find one of their teammates eventually… right? The redhead braced herself against Haven, her depleted body regenerating what she had lost after expunging her abilities whilst they hobbled in silence, the emotional weight they bore heavy.

Eventually, they came to a fork, where the path diverged into two directions. One was bathed in cold white light, an incessant beeping and ringing ricocheting off the walls, and the other sat silent and ominous, each movement they made seemed to echo into oblivion. Aurora tried to examine each with equal consideration, but found herself favoring one over the other. But in her hesitancy, she turned to Haven. “Which way?”

Haven’s jaw clenched as she leaned her weight onto her left leg, giving her right a moment to breathe. She nodded to the right as she remembered how she and Amma had taken a left before. “We came from the right. Not sure how long we walked until we got here, but… I’ll remember where she found me if it looks the same.”

Haven took the first step as she began to lead them down the overwhelming length of brightness and cacophony. Her breathing grew heavier the further they went as she tried to contain the panic bubbling up her throat.

“So… You said that other Lorcán had your stepfather…?”

Aurora watched Haven’s facial expression as the girl tensed. It was clear that whatever she had experienced in this space had caused a great deal of pain, and she was not eager to relive it. Every corner they turned in this trial had screamed agony, it was highly unlikely that anyone had remained unscathed. The redhead followed her companion’s lead as they walked, head on a swivel determining if any other threats were hiding in the shadows.

At the question, her face paled, sweat collecting at her brow. It wasn’t a topic she was prepared to divulge in its entirety, but if it was a momentary reprieve and distraction from whatever hell Haven had emerged from, Aurora would shoulder that burden. “Yes, he- he did.” She replied in a subdued tone, sputtering out the words, “He was stuffed into a cabinet. Bound and suffering.” The redhead looked into the girl’s eyes.

“Just as he should be.”

Whatever guilt Haven felt for asking such a question vanished the moment Aurora said what she had been thinking. Despite her growing panic, and despite the situation they were in, Haven huffed a halfhearted chuckle. “Yeah, serves him right.” She gave her hand a small squeeze after a pause. “I’m glad you got out of there before it got twisted.”

Aurora shook her head, recounting the moment she had woken up from whatever had caused her to black out in the first place. “It already was twisted.” She uttered, goosebumps pricking the back of her neck.

“I thought I was safe. I saw Lorcán - or who I thought was Lorcán - and believed for a second that we had made it out of here.” The redhead could feel her heartbeat begin to quicken once more, dread stirring in her stomach as they passed by rooms of medical supplies strewn on linoleum. “Had I not known him so well, I might have never realized that he was trying to trick me. I don’t think anyone else would have noticed the subtle differences, but to me, they were jarring.”

“He had his face, but a long scar on one side. His eyes were darker, more jaded. Cruel.” She shivered. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unsee him.”

Haven ignored the contents of the rooms they passed by watching Aurora’s expressions as she recounted her personal torture. The fear her friend presented, laced with what Haven now recognized as haunted memories, had that painful empathy returning to her stomach. Their experiences were so different, and yet they were both leaving with the same feelings of distress and horror. She was at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured softly. It was all she could summon to her lips. She couldn’t bare her own nightmare to Aurora, not when they drew closer to it with each hobbled step, but maybe she could let Aurora know that she understood. “I won’t be able to forget, either. I guess it’s one more thing we can add to the list of memories that keep us up at night.”

The redhead nodded, holding the winged girl’s hand tighter as they walked, eyebrows raising as another thought from her experience slipped to the surface. “I don’t know if I can believe anything he told me- what was real or what was fake- but he said that someone from Blackjack is to blame for trapping us here.” Aurora uttered, her thoughts racing as she attempted to discern if it was just a cruel part of the simulation or reality. “That they serve Hyperion, still.”

“I don’t want to believe it’s true. Who could support such a monster after everything he did?”

“That has to be a lie.” Haven began in earnest, even as her brows furrowed as she debated it internally. “The trial is testing your faith... Why else would it give you a Lorcán that deceives you?”

“I think… I think the simulations are trying to wear us down. To break our spirits. I don’t know how you felt in that moment, but if you didn’t have faith in Blackjack, or in the real Lorcán, you might have given into it.”

Haven thought about how she’d felt on that table. She’d given up the fight the moment her wings had been pinned down. So close to destruction, with no means of escape and her body frozen with fear. Part of her worried that the simulation wasn’t testing her will, like with Aurora, but instead teaching her another lesson. A lesson she didn’t want to admit to herself just yet. Not with Aurora by her side, not when Aurora needed hope–

When they both needed hope to make it out of the trial.

“Whoever messed with the trial, they want us out of their way. They want us scared and untrusting. We have to make sure we don’t give them what they want.” Her voice shook with the intensity of her words. She looked to Aurora and in her eyes laid the controlled burning within the forest of her soul, the defiance that had pieced her back together after she’d nearly fallen apart on that table. “I won’t give it to them.” Not again.

Aurora shook her head, biting the inside of her lip. She waffled back and forth in believing the dopplegänger at Haven’s suggestion - he had deceived her, but something about his chilling words seemed to churn in her gut. Maybe her supposed concussion was to blame for her lack of clarity? The girl’s expression grew heavy. “They want more than for us to be scared,” She swallowed, “They want us dead.”

Haven stopped moving, her expression falling flat as her heart seemed to plummet off a cliff. Her now dead weight pulled Aurora back from where she’d taken a step. Haven looked between Aurora’s eyes as she swallowed, a poor attempt to wet the sudden dryness in her mouth. It still tasted like bile, even after this short amount of time. “I… I thought I was the only one it wanted dead.” Her head shook ever so subtly. “Do you think– Amma?” She couldn’t finish the question.

Instead she looked forward with worry clouding her eyes. She forced herself to move again, taking a pained step forward until her muscles seized as she saw it… Footprints of ash on the linoleum, leading from an open room. Her muscles ached as they pulled her wings in closer to her back. Tanned skin paled, the fear draining the color from her face and neck. Her voice was quiet as she spoke again, as if she feared waking the horrors within that room.

“This is where she found me. We have to go past it.”

Aurora could see her change in demeanor instantly, the way her jaw clenched and her eyes grew wide at what lay ahead, and knew that whatever agony she had experienced before they had reunited was about to be re-lived. “I’m right here with you.” She stated supportively, their footsteps continuing.

Haven forced herself to breathe deep, and then released the breath in a shaky exhale. She was still mindful of her strength as she gripped Aurora’s hand tighter, although she may have overestimated how durable a human’s hand could be. Her stride was unsteady as she placed weight on her leg, but her pace was determined. Despite the pounding of her heart in her chest, she wanted to overcome the fear. She would look into that room, look at the poor student on that table, and then she would move on.

“Please don’t-” Her words were stopped short as they stood at the opening, her breath escaping her lips in a whoosh. She didn’t take another.

Eyes of a forest sunrise stared at them with muted colors, as if the light had been subdued. The tanned skin was clammy and spattered with blood; the cut on the left cheek still fresh. The muscles in her face were slack, and yet her hands would forever be clenched at her sides in rigor mortis. There was a cut from between her clavicle down to her navel, and a gaping hole where her heart should be resting within her chest. Wings lifeless, flesh and muscle torn and cut, laid in pieces on top of the metal. The feathers on her once tawny wings stained forever red.

There was so much blood… and yet Haven’s eyes remained on the face. Her face. She lifted a shaking hand in front of her, blocking the view of those dull hazel eyes. Her hand turned over once, twice, her lips parting as she was lost to thought.

“Maybe I never left it…” She whispered the thought aloud, her brows furrowing. Her left hand slackened around Aurora’s, threatening to let go of her contact with reality. “I need air... I need to find Rory. I need to get out of here.” The words spilled out of her mouth breathlessly. Her eyes fluttered between her hand and her lifeless eyes on the table. “Not real.”

Aurora’s panicked gaze darted from Haven to the lifeless version of herself on the table, to the abundance of crimson that covered the girl’s small frame, the tangled limbs, and the disfigured wings. She swallowed a scream at the gory sight, trying her best to maintain her composure, a few silent tears falling from her eyes. Had the real Haven not been standing next to her, she would have assumed she had met her end, the resemblance was uncanny. And for that reason, stifling a sob, she didn’t hesitate to close the door, sealing off the room for whoever may encounter this hallway next.

The redhead gripped the girl’s hand as she felt her presence waver, a physical bridge reminding her that she was standing right there next to her. Gently and cautiously, she brought her hand to the small of Haven’s back, making sure to avoid touching her wings and guided her away. “You’re alive, you’re here with me.” Aurora consoled as she forced her to continue walking down the hallway, away from that fated room, from a distorted vision of the present. “We’re going to get out of here, we’re going to find Rory.” She repeated to her, hoping she would hear amongst the chaos that likely raged in her mind. “This isn’t real.”

The door was closed, cutting the image off from Haven so that her eyes returned to her hand. Distantly she felt Aurora’s anchor to reality, yet she didn’t even flinch as she felt the pressure of a gentle hand against her back. So lost in her fractured state that she hardly acknowledged that they began to move again either. The pain in her thigh was a dull throb compared to the torment inside of her. Aurora’s words whispered to her in the depths of her mind, each one slowly pulling her back to her body until she gasped for air. It felt like she'd been drowning.

Her free hand reached up to her chest to check if it was whole. She pressed her hand against it to make sure of it. Her heart beat against her palm, fast, but steady, and the rising and falling of her chest as she regained her breath was slowing, returning to her usual pattern. She realized how limp her hand was in Aurora’s and slowly wrapped her tan fingers around the pale skin.

“I’m sorry-I… I almost let go.” She turned her head to Aurora, the foggy look in her eyes slowly clearing. Her brows furrowed for a moment, tears pricking at her eyes, before she spoke again. “Thank you… I might have been stuck there forever.”

The redhead exhaled as she felt Haven’s grip tighten once more, watching as color slowly returned to her features. She blinked back her own tears that had formed, not wanting the winged girl to see how much the sight had shaken her as well. It very well could have been any of them on that table. Rubbing comforting circles on her companion’s back, Aurora continued to reassure her as they left the medical wing behind them and found themselves back in a similar looking hallway of classrooms from where they first started. “Don’t apologize.” She consoled.

“You’re strong, you can do this.” Aurora’s words reminded Haven, but were also to remind herself. The Trial continued to throw obstacle after obstacle in their way, and there was no end in sight, but they had to persevere.

Haven nodded even as a tear escaped down her cheek. “We can do this.” She parroted. Inwardly she searched for the fire within her soul, finding it quenched but not extinguished. It was all she had left in her to keep going. She would have to hold on tight to it if they had any chance of escape. Her next words were soft, as if she was afraid the simulation might hear them and thwart their plans. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Aurora was in full agreement, her eyes revealing her determination as she took her hand off of Haven’s back and began to lead them down the hallway once again. Sure enough, they reached another fork, which she delineated was what Amma had spoken of before, where she had sensed one of their teammates down the alternate path. “This must be where she felt someone else. We should go this way.” She murmured to herself, looking around. But it was at that moment, she realized something.

She couldn’t feel Haven’s hand anymore.

Turning on her heel to look where she thought her friend was following, she found the hallway empty.

“...Haven?” She fearfully asked, but already knew there would be no reply.

Except someone did answer.

“Aurora! Firecracker, where are you?”

The redhead’s eyes grew wide.

“Mom?”

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