Skai

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Outside Myotis Dormitory to ARC Center - PRCU}

Dance Monkey #4.052: If You Wanna Be My Plover

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_{Interaction(s): Rory, Boyfriend @Webboysurf}

Previously: Wing Life Away

The white petals were carefully clutched between her hands, resting on the green cell that provided a flat surface for them to rest upon. She was making sure to be mindful of the delicate flower as she took the least crowded way out of the Myotis dorm. The halls were busy, full of chatter about the night's plans and the occasional passerby who paid no mind to how close they came to her as they continued their way in blissful ignorance of her aversion to their touch.

The accessory had come close to being left behind. The message she’d received earlier had been from Rory; a quick announcement that he’d arrived outside that made her heart flutter in anticipation. Her excitement had almost made her miss Harper’s call from behind her, who had thankfully gone back to retrieve their dates’ flowers for them. Haven had to admit that she wouldn’t have thought about the boutonniere at all thanks to her . At least not until she saw the others’ mysterious, well one of them was now not so mysterious, dates with the petals pinned wherever they were meant to go. She was thinking that Rory would know where to place it as she stepped out of the dorm, and then suddenly she wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

Her gaze lifted from the petals to see her date waiting for her at the end of the stairs, and her heels halted their descent as she took in the sight of him. His frame was outlined by the light of the setting sun, its hues bringing out the brown tones in his dark hair. The grey dress shirt hugged every outline of his toned torso and arms and emphasized how his waist narrowed at his pantline, where she knew his muscles cut a subtle curve into his hips. His tie was almost a perfect green match, and the gold stripes across it made him look clean and perfectly cut in his dress clothes. It wasn’t the dress uniform she was so used to seeing him wear. It was so much better, and seeing him dressed up this way for her warmed her cheeks and the place below her stomach. She was grinning from ear to ear when her eyes finally met his blues. She always liked the way their color became more complex when he wore grey.

Rory didn’t exactly know what to do with his hands when he was waiting, especially as one was occupied with the plastic box containing the corsage. He alternated between shoving his free hand in his pocket, tapping his thigh, snapping, and pretending to scroll his phone. He had settled on just checking his hair in a nearby window when he heard a set of heel clicks move down the stairs. His eyes drifted upwards, and he felt his mouth go dry with a set of nerves he didn’t realize he still had. A dumb grin spread across his lips, as his eyes didn’t know where to focus. They settled on tracing her outline from her heels to her eyes. When they met, he forgot to breathe for a moment.

Her excitement was clear in the way she moved towards him now. Her hands parted to gesture at her dress and makeup in all its glory. Her wings spread out beside her to display themselves at a gentle angle. Feet slowing as she neared him to twirl herself around and give him a good look at how the silky dress revealed the feathery patch between her wings and hugged the curves of her hips.

Her arms then lowered as she made that last step to stand before him, now faced with an unusual feeling of butterflies in her stomach that made her smile turn soft. The phone and flower was shifted into her left hand before her right reached up to affectionately smooth his tie and collar. Her gaze flicked up from the gold and green and grey to meet his stunning blues once more.

“Hey, Rory.” She said, her eyes shining in the light of the setting sun.

“Hey, Dove.” Rory almost instinctively reached his free hand to Haven’s waist, his fingertips gently tracing the fabric as he let her work. He held the corsage awkwardly to the side, forgetting about it entirely as he tried his hardest to not lose himself to his more base impulses. “You look…” His mind desperately struggled for an adjective to sum up his thoughts. All the ones he had felt like too little. He had to say something, and a friend’s comment on honesty flashed in his mind. The words then tumbled from his mouth. “I don’t think I have a good enough word. I’m sorry.”

Haven couldn’t deny the way his touch sent shivers up her side. Her hand came to rest on his chest as her body unconsciously drifted nearer to him in response. It all felt so natural, this closeness between them. The pull of attraction and something she was certain of and yet unsure if she wanted to put words to just yet.

Her smile widened as Rory complimented her in his own charming way. Yet she couldn’t allow him to apologize for being speechless, and she couldn’t hold herself back from giving him one kiss before their date began either. She stood on her tiptoes, still needing to reach for him despite the extra height, and gently pressed her lips to his. She kept it light and quick, otherwise she was sure she’d suggest they skip the dance entirely.

“No need to apologize for that, handsome.” She lilted as she slowly and reluctantly pulled herself off of him. She wanted to stay in this moment forever, to bottle this feeling up and drink from it until her days ended, but she was sure that there were better moments ahead of them. Maybe their first dance, or their first night alone somewhere under the stars one day.

Her hand lifted to reveal the small arrangement in her hand and she cleared her throat of any lingering urges to kiss him again as she held it up for him to see. “Rora gave us all one. I’ve only seen it in a movie before, really. High school didn’t happen for me.” Despite her lack of knowledge, her smile was anything but embarrassed as she asked, “Where do I put it?”

“Oh, right.” He waved his own plastic box around a little as he nervously cleared his throat. His head swam a little, caught up in the rush of endorphins and blood flow to everywhere except his brain. He had to focus himself for a moment, the alcohol only further hindering his ability to think incredibly clearly. When his brain finally registered the question in its entirety, he nodded. His hand lingered on the small of her back for a moment, before he slid it up the side of her dress and to her arms, tracing her skin until his hand found hers. “I… think it goes here.” He moved her hand to the lapel of his suit. “You just pin it there… over the heart.” He kept his gaze focused on her fingers, trying not to get lost in her hazel eyes or tender lips again.

Her eyelids fluttered, a slight flush creeping up her neck while his hand traveled across her skin, and yet she kept her composure as she brought her other hand over to undo the pin on the back of the boutonniere. It took her a try or two until it was secured, and when she finally figured out the best way to place it she paused for a moment to adjust the lapel back into place. Her heart was already beating faster in his presence. It was starting to feel like they were dangerously close to being even more late to the dance just from these gestures alone.

Her eyes drifted to the plastic box held in his hand. Within it, similar white petals sat atop a circle of white lace. She decided to move on from his own flower to distract from the way their breathing had both changed into a craving that only oxygen could sate at the moment. “What’s mine called, again?”

Rory’s eyes followed her shift in gaze towards his box. He moved his hands to open the box, removing the small arrangement. “This… I think L-” He paused briefly, catching himself. “Hot Shot called it a corsage, I think.” His eyes scanned around, eyeing a trash can near the door. He knocked one hand back and tossed the box towards the can. It bounced off the rim on its way in, which elicited a small frown on his lips. He shook his head, trying to wave off the slight intoxication. He used his newly free hand to hold Haven’s as he slipped the corsage over her wrist. “I’m pretty sure this is how people wore these at Prom.” He smiled at the sight of the matching flowers, before his gaze turned to Haven’s face. “This is kind of new to me, though.”

Haven’s mind miraculously caught onto some train of thought. Even after her cheeks had warmed as he placed the corsage onto her wrist and her heart felt full. She tilted her head to the side, hands taking both of his into hers. Her curiosity was evident in her expression as she asked both questions at the same time. “You didn’t go to prom? And did you use your powers earlier?”

Rory sighed, shaking his head playfully. “I can’t get anything by you… wasn’t my powers. Had a couple drinks with Gil before this.” He bit his lip before continuing, trying to focus his thoughts and attention. “Prom didn’t… It was around when my parents…” He felt his voice catch in his throat. He brushed a hand over his tie, taking a deep breath. “It was around the pandemic.” That was the best response he could muster. “I’d… prefer to talk about that another night.”

She was caught between surprise and amusement, at first, as Rory admitted to having a few drinks. She’d seen him drunk off his powers, so it wasn’t like this behaviour was new, but the playful side to her wanted to tease him about his liquor tolerance or make a joke out of having his first drink in a while without her. The tease was right on the edge of her lips with her smile, until it slipped from her tongue as he answered her first question, and the flush in her cheeks turned into something completely different.

She’d known his parents passed away, but she never knew the reason why.

You really ask too many questions.

Her eyes glanced between his, at a loss for words as she debated apologizing to him or to follow his wish and move on from the topic, but none of it felt right. She felt like she’d known him for so long, and yet she was realizing that there were still things about him that she didn’t know. Things about herself that he didn’t know, either. So it wasn’t a mistake that she was asking questions about him, but… maybe she should turn the direction of the questions towards something fun.

They both deserved a fun night after what they’d gone through in the past week.

“Okay,” She began softly, offering him a small smile that she hoped would make up for it. Still, she couldn’t just move on from it like he hadn’t said anything at all. Her arms moved to wrap around his torso, embracing him into a tight hug to express what she couldn’t say in words, and she mumbled into his chest.

“Let’s go let loose, yeah? I think we deserve a night to relax.”

Rory nodded, moving his hands to wrap around Haven’s shoulders and give a soft squeeze. He was surprised they had managed to go an entire minute into their date before he soured the mood. He smiled softly at her suggestion, though, and rested his chin on the crown of her head as they embraced. “That sounds nice.” He pulled away from the hug, and held out his elbow in her direction. “I think you deserve more than just a night, Wings.”

“Well, I’ll take as many as I can get.” She mused as she snuck her arm through his elbow to wrap her hand around his bicep, squeezing the firm muscle beneath the material with a soft smile. Her other hand occupied itself by brushing away a stray curl from her face, then slipping her phone into Rory’s pocket, before finally coming to rest itself on his forearm.

“But tonight will do for now.” She said as the pair began walking together, glancing up at him with a coy quirk to her smile. “I can’t wait to share a drink with you, but we should probably get something to eat first.” She continued, effortlessly transitioning back into her excited state as she considered what they should do once they arrived. “Oh, and we have to dance! I’ve seen your moves before, so I know you’ll keep up with me.”

“Why would we go to a dance and not dance?” His voice regained that slight amusement once again as he walked slowly, making sure to keep steady as they walked arm in arm.“I can probably do one more drink tonight. I don't want to be wasted for this.” Rory tilted his head slightly, his eyes admiring Haven's figure as they walked. He had half a mind to refer to her appearance as angelic, but a small voice in the back of his head knew better. Though, not all his thoughts were so pure. “I have every intention of keeping up with you tonight.” He winked, wiggling his eyebrows at the innuendo.

Haven giggled softly as a small flush returned to her neck. “Oh yeah?” Her thumb began drawing lazy circles on his bicep, while her eyes swooped down as she checked him out herself, resting on his lips for long enough to make him question if she had the intention to kiss him again. She sucked on her bottom lip for a second as her own impure thoughts ran through her mind, before she met his eyes and wiggled her own eyebrows to match his playfulness. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Rory felt his cheeks get a little hot, as they always did when Haven flirted back. He moved his own free hand to cradle hers as she traced over his arm.The warmth that spread through his chest felt unique compared to the sensation of the alcohol earlier in the evening.

As they walked, his thoughts drifted. Even though her presence had become a fixture in his life already over the course of a week, she was still an enigma. He knew scraps of her past and what she had been through, but it felt like he didn't even know the basics. He looked to the ground, trying to process a decent question. “So, besides going to the National Parks down in the States after graduation… what do you want to do? Where do you want to go?”

Satisfied with Rory’s reaction, Haven grinned as she turned her head forwards to survey the students lined up outside of the ARC. She took a breath, mulling over her thoughts for a moment as she wondered how to answer.

“I didn’t have a clue when I started here, but… Now I know that I want to help kids like us. Specifically those who have no family to take care of them. If I join social services with HELP, or any agency that will take me really, I want to be there for those kids so they don’t get into trouble or get put into unsafe homes.”

Rory stopped in his tracks, a soft smile turned towards Haven. He reached up to her face, cradling her cheek in his hand, before leaning over to kiss her. He didn't pay any attention to the other students in line who glanced in their direction, all of his focus remained on that spot where their lips touched. When he pulled away, he wiped his thumb over his own mouth to remove a bit of smeared lipstick. “Couldn't help myself, I'm sorry.”

When Haven pulled back, the pink of her cheeks was not a result of lust but because of the warmth that blossomed in her chest with Rory’s tender gestures. It was that unspoken feeling, that one little word that she was holding back because her heart had not settled yet. It left her dazed and wanting more. Made the man in front of her the only one she could focus on despite the crowd. Her eyelids fluttered as she looked up at him, a glowing smile growing as she took his hand into her own.

“You can do that anytime, Rory. No apology needed.”

The line ahead began to move, and while Haven didn’t want to leave this moment behind she knew it would have to happen eventually. She was still smiling as she stepped forwards. Her hand gently pulled him with her.

“You want to be a therapist, right? Like your aunt?”

Rory nodded, following Haven as they inched forward. “It's what I'm trying to go for… but I'm torn.” He swayed his head from side to side, trying to figure out how to word it. “Helping people figure out their powers and how to handle them is something I'm kind of uniquely qualified to help with. But I'm worried I won't really get to make a choice with what I do.” His voice lost a bit of its luster as he continued, his expression gradually dropping. “HELP is always going to be watching my every move, and I know there are people there who want me to follow my dad's footsteps. If the Foundation had their way, I'm sure I'd be another one of their costumed heroes. And then the rest of the world probably wants to see me locked in a cage so I can't do what Hyperion did.”

Haven’s smile melted into a frown as he spoke. She considered the weight put onto his shoulders and squeezed his hand, a silent offering of support.

Rory shook his head. Haven's touch grounded him enough to shake out of the spiral. “But yeah… I want to kind of do the same thing you were saying. Kids going through what we are going through have a lot of pressure put on them at a young age. They need people who understand what they are going through and can help them come to terms with it.” He smiled softly, turning his gaze back to Haven. “And I guess it means if it lined up right, we would kind of be working together.”

“I think you should do whatever feels right for you, Rory. No matter what pressure they may put on you, or whatever fear there might be because of your ability.” Her tone began serious, but now it shifted into something playful. “Although I’d love to work with you, so I think you should definitely consider my opinion.” She finished her statement with an enthusiastic nod and a wide smile.

Rory rubbed his tongue along his inner cheek as he attempted to give her a stern glare, but her smile was too infectious. He rolled his eyes instead as he grinned. “Yeah yeah… I mean, I'm not opposed to an option where we can wake up and go to work together.” The thought filled him with a bit more glee than he knew what to do with, settling to squeeze Haven's hand as his attention shifted to the moving line.

Haven’s flush grew with his stern glare, finding herself oddly attracted to it. She turned her attention to the line when he did, a goofy, lovestruck look on her face as she thought about waking up to those eyes every day.

“Would you want that even if we don’t work together? Like…” She looked upwards at the darkening sky as she thought about how to word it. “Maybe if we work in different places we can find a place in between to call home.”

With a cocky grin, Rory tried to sound shocked. “It's our first date and you're already planning for us to move in together?” He chuckled to himself as he gave her a hand a couple squeezes. “I would like that, though. It would save us the trouble of sorting out the laundry or having to decide whose place we are staying at.” He cleared his throat after speaking, as he tried to keep his mind on the practical. It was too early for certain words and thoughts.

Haven’s smile turned playfully sheepish, giving Rory a shrug. She brought his hand up to her lips and placed a soft peck on the back of it. “I can’t imagine spending a night without you again, to be honest.” Her lips pressed together for a moment as she was briefly reminded of her awkward moment in the morning. “If you think Lorcán ever wants a break from us, we can always stay at my place. My roommates are pretty chill.”

“I don't think he minds… he seemed happy for us earlier.” Rory smiled, though it shifted into a cocky smirk as a thought ran through his head. “What, the night in the tent was that good?”

She was surprised to hear that the roommate in question didn’t mind, but she was distracted from that train of thought as soon as she turned back to Rory. She was just in time to catch that one of a kind smirk that made her insides heat. His next words had her gasp softly for air, and her hand rose up to hide the warmth on her cheeks. She wasn’t embarrassed, but maybe a little shy about how she wanted to phrase her next quip. So she stood on her toes to murmur into his ear with a tone both sultry and playful, “It was one of the best I’ve had.”

Rory paused, frozen in place as his mind processed that comment. Her words sent shivers down his spine, and a deeper part again yearned to fast forward past the dance. He remained a bit stunned as he met her gaze. “Oh, I, uh… that was new for me, so I didn't really know…” The words got lost in his throat as he scanned her face for confirmation she wasn't lying. He didn't exactly feel embarrassed, more surprised than anything. “I know you're a good kisser, but I didn't have anything to compare most of that night to.”

It was starting to dawn on Haven when handsome said it was new for him. Her brows going from a place of rest to halfway up her forehead as soon as it sunk in. Her jaw dropped and all she could think to say was, “So when you did that one move… did it just come naturally?”

Rory averted his gaze, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I guess… I kind of just did whatever and stuck with it if you made noise.” Rory caught the gaze of a couple of fellow seniors in front of them, and finally felt a full blush on his cheeks.

Haven quickly turned her head to find who Rory had seen with narrowed eyes. “Please ignore them.” She said, only looking back once the eavesdroppers turned their attention elsewhere. She did lower her voice when she spoke next. Mostly to ensure no one else would turn their heads again as she took both his hands and leaned in close to him. “I didn’t lose mine until the end of freshman year. It’s no biggie that you waited.”

“I’m honored to have been your first, Rory.” Her smile was sincere, and yet her eyes shined with a mischievous glint. “I’ll make tonight extra special since I couldn’t that night.”

Rory swallowed hard as he adjusted his collar. “Well damn… I would have told you sooner.”

Haven simply smiled wider before she turned her body away from him to look ahead without another word. As inappropriate as the topic may have been, she was delighted to know this little fact about him. It made her feel special that she was the one he lost it to; like he truly trusted her. Enough to give away that piece of himself to her even if he wasn’t sure how it would turn out between them after. It made her stomach flutter thinking about it.

It was soon obvious that the line they stood in was for a Hollywood-esque photo opportunity. She could see the flash of the camera up ahead, the various groups or couples posing like the actors had done in the old movies too. It looked like they really were going to get their prom experience in one go. Her hand squeezed Rory’s as she nodded in the camera's direction. “They’re doing pictures. Do you want one?” She looked over her wing at him with the hopes he said yes.

“Of course, Wings. Gotta add it to the wall.” He smiled as he let her guide her over, his hand holding hers tightly as they moved up in the line and through the crowd. His eyes remained focused on the back of her head, with the occasional scan of the crowd. He knew Jim had to have upped their security… but after everything, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. He had thought they were safe before. His grip tightened on Haven's hand instinctively.

Haven happily squeezed his hand back as she placed them in the smaller line for the photos. She turned to face him, smiling as she adjusted his tie and lapel while they waited. “Let’s do one side by side, and then one silly one with you behind me like they do in the movies.” She mused, as if she could already picture their photos on his wall of friends and family.

They were called before Rory could agree or protest, and Haven beamed as she walked with him onto the spot along the red carpet where the photos were being taken. She wrapped an arm around his like before, her hand clutching his bicep while her free hand showed off the corsage by resting on the curve of her waist. A picture of young love as they both smiled for the camera, followed by an adoring gaze between them as she turned her head to look up at him with a quiet giggle when the flashes became too much for her eyes.

They shuffled down to the next spot where cameras waited, much like a movie premiere, and this time Haven let her wings tuck in a little as she rested her back against his chest. Her hand pulled his tie over her shoulder and held it there, and she playfully smirked at the camera as Rory made a silly face to go with the pose, his hands coming to rest on her hips. The intimate position paired with the goofiness that came with the pose’s implication summed up their relationship quite well.

Haven’s eyes were nearly blinded by the time they moved off of the red carpet. Rory guided her through the entrance to the ballroom, each of them grinning like idiots after she caught herself mid trip on his arm. The few glances from the crowd milling nearby, most likely assuming they were already wasted, went unnoticed between them. Her eyes recovered from the flash blindness, leaving her face to face with her handsome date. The temptation to kiss him again lingered on her tongue for a moment, her breath hitching in her throat mid-giggle, but she decided to blurt her first thought instead.

“I don’t know how Gil does that,” Haven breathed, standing upright once more. Her head turned, eyes blinking a few times to adjust to the lighting within the makeshift ballroom as she took in the grand decorations and well-dressed seniors around her. “I can see why he likes this though.”

The couple stood together for a few moments, Rory patiently waiting as Haven took in the sight before them. Until she squeezed his arm and flashed him a glowing smile as he looked down at her.

“Shall we?”

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Myotis Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.041: Between Shadows and Light

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

Previously: Dancing on Egghsells

Harper’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the rhythm of the dancing coils. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Amma, captivated by the effortless assurance with which she commanded the crimson light. In that moment, she felt small, yet profoundly aware of the potential that lay dormant within the woman before her, waiting to be awakened.

“You’ve always been so certain,” Harper finally said, her voice a soft murmur that barely broke the stillness. “You know what you want, what you’re fighting for. And you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get it back.” She hesitated here, feeling the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing against her chest. The words she wanted to say were tangled in her throat, but the intensity of the moment pushed them forward. “But what if… what if you lose yourself in the process? Unless…you believe you already have?”

Her eyes dipped briefly in contemplation, the heaviness of her thoughts pulling her gaze downward before they met those piercing blue eyes once again. However, unlike all those previous times, Harper did not feel the need to use her ability-if she even could without that excruciating pain, anyway.

“If that’s the case…then you’re wrong.” Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that she couldn’t quite mask. Because Harper hadn’t just seen something predatory behind those eyes that warm, sunny day on the beach. She’d seen a bit of something else, as well. Something yearning and longing.

“I think…I see someone in you who’s been hurt, yes. But also someone who’s still holding on to something…someone who’s not as lost as she thinks.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Harper?” Amma carefully closed her fist, nails against the lines of fate marked into her skin, a foretold and smothered touch of destiny inlaid through her palms as she smothered those tendrils of her power; they snuffed out on soft echoes of a droning manifest, a quaking need and yearning that called for something; she just didn’t know what it was anymore. “Should I lose myself, then mark it as another price I have to pay. More to the role I have to play here.”

She almost wanted to laugh—those inner turmoils that wrought through her heart, everything that she was spun out into leagues of dread, figments of herself that Harper was trying to glean through, similar words once spoken to her by another who looked at her and saw that mask. She agreed to be friends with some, relinquished pieces of her power unto them, and saved them. What more did they want? He spoke of creation, and he talked of mending, but what did any of that truly mean for a person hell-bent on revenge and destruction? Who’s very touch inspired nothing but death. Certain? If only she knew.

“Maybe I am lost, maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m still trapped in the dark. All I know is that I’m… trying. I want to try.” Her words are wavering, only slight, her usual confidence unspooling through the admissions that are rested on her tongue and pressing against her teeth, lips tucked into a frown until her laugh does break free, a delicate and perhaps sorrowful trill that encompasses all that she is trying to say but doesn’t know where to begin. “But I cannot forgive, and I cannot forget. Not yet.”

Harper stayed silent, absorbing all of Amma’s words. Her admissions caused the atmosphere to feel charged, a fragile connection teetering on the edge of understanding and something much darker. She could sense the turmoil within Amma, see the storm brewing behind those intense blue eyes, threatening to consume everything in its path-anything that dared to get in her way.

Her breath hitched as she felt her legs give way, forcing her to sink into the nearest chair. She took a moment longer, letting the silence stretch as she gathered her scattered thoughts.

“Maybe it’s not about forgiving or forgetting,” Harper murmured eventually, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned her head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused. “Maybe it’s about finding the things, or the people, worth holding onto. Those things that can anchor you when the darkness becomes too overwhelming. When you may not even be able to see yourself anymore.” She paused, her thoughts momentarily drifting away from the present. A faint memory surfaced, a voice from her past playing in her mind.

Just slay your own dragons already.

Harper swallowed, only choosing then to look up again.

“Just don’t…make it one singular person or thing. Because if you lose that person….” Her voice trailed off, not even wanting to consider that happening. Not again.

“I think that person can decide for those risks too. But he- I…”

Amma is quiet, unable to finish her words; long enough, she thinks, for the night to flit on by and for Aurora and Haven to finish on her hair. It’s only with a soft sigh and a muttered admission that she offers as she moves closer to Harper, allowing her a moment to hear pieces of her heart she’s never openly admitted before. Things worth holding onto: is that what it was? What did she feel? What she found in the comforts of shadow and sleep; were these the things Harper alluded to, the calm and peace she found despite what tormented her waking world?

The letters tease away at the back of her mind. What did her mother feel when she read those?

“I’ve lost enough people in my life; I don’t intend to lose anyone ever again. Not for the promises I made, then. And the ones I have made now.”

Harper caught the slip in Amma’s words, her mind immediately racing to conclusions. Is she talking about Lorcán? The thought tugged at her, a persistent itch she couldn’t scratch. The temptation to clarify was almost unbearable, to caution the raven-haired woman that pinning everything on one person was a dangerous game to play. But who was she to offer that advice?

Harper had done the same to Sierra, clinging to her sister even if it meant dragging her down with her.

The irony was a bitter pill to swallow, and her own hypocrisy left a sour taste in her mouth. Though, before Harper could dwell on her swirling thoughts, Amma’s voice sliced through the haze with a raw confession. The brunette managed to mask her surprise, her expression softening as she turned to face her. It was there. The urge to reach out physically like she would with any of her friends. But something held her back. Probably the fact that they weren’t really friends as she barely knew Amma.

“Yeah… I get that. I really do…” Harper muttered, her voice gentle and understanding. It had to be enough. It was all she could offer.

A small, knowing smile formed at the corner of her lips. “You know what? I think we could both use another shot with all of that.”

Amma laughed, a little more relaxed, subdued, perhaps courtesy of the alcohol or some minute, mutual understanding that afforded her the moment.

“I think you're right.”

Managing to miss the pair’s conversation entirely, Aurora strolled back into the living area after completing Haven’s hair. Looking between Harper and Amma, she could sense some tension, but she had no interest in finding out what they had discussed. Knowing her friend well, it was more than likely that she had attempted to pry and get something out of the dark haired girl, but also having come to understand Amma more, it was unlikely anything resulted from it. Glancing down at her phone, she noticed what time it was.

“We should probably start putting on dresses,” She suggested to the girls, but instead of walking towards her room, she walked over to the refrigerator, pulling a cardboard box from the bottom shelf. Making her way back to the table, she placed it down on the surface and opened the top, revealing carefully packaged boutonnieres, all identical with white various flowers. “But before that, I picked these up from the Community Farm this morning. I figured everyone here probably has someone they want to give one to.”

Her laughter edged off almost entirely, her eyes glimpsing down into the box and the assortment of flowers arranged in a simplistic but elegant way with the blossoms bunched as an adornment of sorts. Amma’s expression lapsed into the finer edges of perplexity, someone to give them to; she reached forward to brush her fingers against one before she snatched her hand back and regarded her glass set off to the side. Her thoughts drifted back to that morning, and the heat that threaded through her was no longer just a byproduct of the liquid courage that thrummed through her veins.

“Definitely going to need another drink.”

Harper leaned forward, her fingers delicately brushing against the soft petals as she picked up one of the boutonnieres. It was simple, yet the gesture Aurora had made carried a profound significance. Turning it over in her hand, she felt a smile grace her lips at the corners, a warmth spreading through her chest. Her best friend had a knack for these thoughtful touches, always knowing how to make moments special. It was in these small acts that Aurora’s true depth of care and consideration always shone through.

“This is a nice touch,” Harper said, her voice imbued with genuine appreciation. Her eyes roamed the room before they landed on Amma. She noticed the flicker of emotions dancing across her teammate’s face, a silent struggle that Harper could almost feel herself. Without a second thought, she gently nudged the box towards Amma, a wordless gesture of encouragement and support.

“Whoever you give it to, they’ll appreciate it,” Harper said, her voice carrying a quiet confidence.

Amma’s lashes panned down low into an understated glare, fixated onto Harper with her features pinched momentarily, the pout of her lip pursed against her teeth before she drew her tongue against the ridge of bone and sighed, delicately reaching for one herself and twirling it amidst her fingers.

“I don't doubt it. I just,” she gestured offhandedly, almost dismissive. “Never done anything like it before. All of this.” She allowed the flowers to settle within her palm, the darling white petals against her scars that soothed the trembling that had begun through her usually confident gestures.

“We shall see.”

Aurora smiled, a genuine smile that came simply from making other people happy. It was an unmatched feeling, being able to do something that her friends inherently appreciated. Hosting the girls prior to the dance, braiding Haven’s hair, and picking up the boutonnieres; all were small ways that the redhead showed her compassion and affection. But even with the joy she felt, the redhead couldn’t help but still at Amma’s words, her raw honesty resonating deep. It was a tangible reminder that they were more alike than different, going through the same feelings and emotions as a result of tonight’s event.

“Neither have I, you know. We’re all in the same boat, you’re not alone here.” She chimed in, her eyes shining with unspoken understanding. New experiences were scary, and tonight, it seemed they all would be stepping out of their comfort zones for the first time. Clasping her hands together, Aurora inclined her head towards her bedroom, “I’m going to go get changed, feel free to get dressed in my roommate’s rooms, they won’t mind.” With that, she disappeared down the hall, gently shutting her door behind her.

“They’re beautiful, Rora.” Haven called out in the other’s direction from where she’d peeked out of the bathroom to see what they’d been discussing. She had no clue what a boutonniere was until her eyes landed on the smallest bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen cradled in their hands. She figured she’d ask what kind of gift they were later. The way Harper and Amma had reacted to them, it must be some sort of grand gesture to give one away, right?

She ducked into the bathroom again and turned to her bag where it remained on the counter. Part of her wasn’t ready to leave the peace of the bathroom just yet, yearning for more of that feeling she had as her hair had been done. Her mind briefly thought about the words that had been exchanged between Amma and Aurora as she put on her jewelry. The emotions that came from it bubbled in her stomach, threatening the peace of mind she possessed until she shook the thoughts from her head.

A simple and tarnished gold necklace soon hung around her neck. Its pendant, a tiny pinecone, rested just below the notch where her collarbones met at the center. A feather pendant hung from the bracelet she spent quite some time clasping together. The effort of putting on a bracelet was reason enough for it to be a special occasion adornment. It slid down her wrist as she reached for her ears, her fingers nimbly clasping in the mid-sized golden hoops that now hung from her lobes. They were another special piece for her, but the reason wasn’t because of how impractical they were or how they could easily be torn from her ears. She looked at them in the mirror and the smile that they brought to her lips was because of the memory they summoned from within the depths of her soul. It was hazy, centered only on the golden hoops that shined from the ears of a woman with lighter hair than her own, and yet she knew who it was that wore them. She figured she looked just like her now as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, with her eyes smoked delicately and her hair done to the side. Her baby hairs curled away from the frame of her maturing face.

She wondered what her mother would think of her, with her tawny feathers and resilient character.

One of her curls drifted away from her face and back again with the soft sigh that escaped through her nose. Her head turned away from the mirror, away from the wonderings of a child still cradled by her heart, and she moved to exit the safe space that had been created within the dorm. Her hand reached for the strap of the duffle and she pulled it out of the bathroom with her.

“I’ll put my dress on in one of the rooms.” She soon said in the direction of the table as her free hand reached for the silky green that hung between the dazzling red and deep black fabric within the closet. The hanger held above her head to avoid dragging the bottom along the floor. She began her way towards one of the empty rooms with it, only stopping outside of the door to offer a few more words to the others. “I’m down to take another shot after we get dressed.”

“Oh, and aren’t the flowers a prom thing? Will someone explain that to me before we go?” She continued absentmindedly as a movie she’d seen once popped into her head, the memory distracting her as she disappeared behind the door.

Harper placed the boutonniere back in the box, her fingers lingering for a moment on the fine petals. Her mind shifted gears from the nervous excitement of the evening to the practical question posed by her winged friend. She’d always been the type to notice details, a trait honed by years of observing the world around her. Her military upbringing had instilled in her a habit of understanding the traditions and customs of different events, even those as seemingly trivial as school dances. It was a skill that had served her well, though she often found herself detached from the social rituals that fascinated others.

As she straightened up, Harper’s thoughts drifted back to her childhood. The rigid structure of her upbringing had left little room for the frivolities of teenage life, especially once she'd lost her parents. School dances, with their glittering decorations and awkward small talk, had never held much appeal for her. Yet, standing here now, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the world she had once dismissed so easily.

“They are,” Harper called out, her voice carrying through the room as she moved toward the closet where her dress hung. “The boutonniere is usually worn by the guy, and it’s meant to match the corsage that the girl wears. It’s a way of showing you’re a pair, kind of like a small symbol of being together for the night.” She reached for the dress, its silky fabric cool beneath her fingers as she carefully slid it out of the protective plastic and off the hanger. The sensation of the smooth material against her skin brought a sense of calm, grounding her in the present.

“Thanks,” the muffled words carried through the doorway Haven disappeared into.

Turning, her dress draped over her arm, Harper headed toward one of the empty rooms to change. She could hear the faint rustle of the dress as it brushed against her skin, and as she closed the door behind her, the brunette took a deep breath, savouring the brief moment of solitude before the night was set to unfold.

Amma twirls the (boutonniere, Harper called it, right) through her elegant gestures; the white is stark against her inked fingers, brushed softly over her scars as a single splotch of near-delicate purity for the symbolism it carried. The distinction of their purpose, the gift that it was, is a practice lost upon her typical graces; Amma realizes she’s never given something so mundane as a gift, her power and strength often proffered or taken and used, for all the world glimpsed and saw was the creature that carried destruction in her eternal renown and wake. Here, though, in the shared rooms of Aurora and her friends, with Harper and Haven too with their dresses in tow, it does something to Amma, that beast that usually lay betwixt heart and soul reared an eye of sheering blue and peered deep into the depths of her melancholy. The disparity of her circumstances still lingered there on the precipice of her mind, the chasm of the unknown revealing all that she desired and the questions that amalgamated betwixt the pain and rage therein. Carefully, she places the boutonniere back within the box (she recalls, once before, laying flowers somewhere else too, but they glistened red, liken to blood) and moves to retrieve her dress. Did she deserve these fine drapings of silk and refinement? No, maybe not she who thrummed away at the surface of her self made into doubt and agony, but the woman that shimmered through her facade of black and golds, the girl that would clutch white flowers within her grasp and glide across the dance floor to give to him, yes, she maybe deserved it. At least, that is what she tells herself.

With a touch of lingering elegance, Amma pulled the dress down, shed away the plastic, and gathered the pooling fabric into her hands. Next, she secured her shoes, hooking them on her index finger, before she disappeared into the only room left to change.

There was silence in the dark room that Haven had chosen. The winged woman’s mind was busy, her body tense as her gaze moved over the dorm of a stranger. An unknown friend of a friend who decorated the walls and shelves just as much as the living area beyond the door behind. They searched for any sign of life within, and only when she knew that she was truly alone her gaze rested on the window that hung on the wall opposite.

She scoffed at herself for a moment. It felt silly how her heart began to thump at the sight of it. How her mind viewed it as a source of fear instead of the freedom it used to grant her. It left a sour taste in the back of her throat that made her press her lips together and swallow.

In the room next to Haven’s, Harper held up her dress, studying its elegant lines as the light spilling through the window played off its deep, rich colour. The red fabric shimmered subtly, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. It was a far cry from the practical, simple clothing she was used to wearing, the first thing she’d noted when she’d first seen it. This dress was a statement, bold and striking, much like the evening ahead. There was an undeniable allure to it, something that made her feel… different.

As she continued to gaze at the dress, Harper felt a flutter of excitement mixed with a twinge of anxiety. The dress demanded attention, and wearing it meant stepping out of her comfort zone. It was a strange sensation, this blend of anticipation and nervousness, like standing on the edge of a cliff and preparing to leap. There was also something about it that made her feel a bit more daring, a bit more alive. Maybe even a bit excited.

But in an “I almost want to throw up everything in my stomach” kind of way.

A similar unease simmered in Haven, though for very different reasons. A muted wave of caution and paranoia fuelled her muscles as she moved towards the window with a deliberate pace. The liquor gave her the courage to face it. She was grateful for the chance to put her mind at rest because of it as she reached its closed frame. The duffle was dropped onto the floor below the sill with a dull thump. Her freed hand reached for the handle on the bottom rail with purpose. It lingered above it for one hesitant moment, her buzzing mind grappling with the fear of what this act meant to her, and the frustration of needing to check a stranger's window.

Damn it all.

Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal and tugged, and as she should have expected, the window didn’t budge. Locked windows were a comforting presence in her life these days. Much like the man she was putting on such a beautiful dress for. Her lungs pulled in the air within the room, filling themselves to capacity, and when she’d been sated on the oxygen that filled her blood she released it. Her anxiety was expelled along with the CO² they exhaled.

She didn’t turn on the lights as she pulled her bag into the center of it. The light of the evening sun outside was enough to illuminate the room. It cast a warm glow on her skin as she gently pulled off the clothes she’d come in. They dropped to the floor at her feet one by one until she stood in her natural state save for the lacy bottoms she’d chosen to wear underneath. Her feet lifted one before the other as she soon stepped into her dress. Her balance shifted unexpectedly, wings flaring a moment as she recovered. How many shots had she taken, again?

Shaking her head, she pulled the dress up her lithe body, the green catching at her hips. She’d forgotten about the zipper. It was zipped down, enough to pull the thin straps over her shoulders, and then pulled back up to close a few inches below the feathers that adorned her back. She bent over to shove her clothes in her bag and retrieve her shoes from within. The heels were hung from her fingers by the straps, her other hand gripping the bag again as she returned to the living room where she sat on the chair she’d gotten her makeup done in. She had just begun to put the uncommon shoe choice on when she heard a door open nearby.

In the mirror, Harper caught a glimpse of herself, her dress hugging her form in a way that highlighted the elegant lines of her figure, the deep colour complementing the natural tones of her skin. She tilted her head slightly, examining the way the fabric draped and flowed all the way down to her legs, accentuating her curves with subtle grace. She almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back at her. The person in the mirror was still Harper, of course, but there was something undeniably different about her—something more confident, more willing to step into the unknown. A memory flickered in the back of her mind, of a time when she’d seen herself in a dress before, though the details were hazy, blurred by time and the grief that had followed.

She wondered, not for the first time, what her parents would think if they could see her now. Would they be proud of the woman she was? Of who she was becoming? Harper imagined their faces, etched with pride at first, and then concern.

She shook the thought from her head, unwilling to let it drag her back into the past where shadows of old memories lurked. Tonight was about the present, about embracing the moment with open arms and a willing heart. Harper gave herself one last look in the mirror, her eyes tracing the contours of her reflection, before turning away, the rustle of the dress following her like a whisper. Before she left the room, she was tempted only once, her hand resting on the cool, brass doorknob. A small, quiet part of her wanted to stay here, in this safe, private space where she didn’t have to face the uncertainties of the night ahead. But another part of her, the part that had agreed to go to the dance with a man she barely knew but was looking forward to seeing soon, urged her forward.

She wasn’t the same person she’d been a year ago, or even a week ago. She was stronger now, more resilient. And tonight, she was ready to prove it—to herself, if no one else.

So, with a final glance back at the room, Harper opened the door and stepped out.

In the privacy and solitude of her room, Aurora stepped into her dress, letting the chiffon fabric glide across her skin as she pulled the bodice up over her chest. The skirt swayed as she fastened the hook and eye at the back of the light blue gown before tugging the zipper, a perfect fit. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she was still overwhelmed by Tori’s selfless act of compassion, letting her borrow such a beautiful piece of her wardrobe for the night. The redhead was filled with gratitude to be here, thankful for this mundane moment of revelry amongst the backdrop of chaos the first weeks of school had wreathed.

With each accessory she adorned herself with, she felt more beautiful. Tori’s sapphire stud earrings with gems that shimmered in the light, the heart shaped pendant from her mother who she wished could see her now, and the golden ring which was gifted sat perfectly on her left ring finger. The etched licks of flame made her feel warm, brought her thoughts to him and all that he meant to her.

She’d tell him. Tonight.

Slipping on her gold heels and spritzing her rose perfume as a finishing touch, Aurora stepped out from her bedroom back into the living room, gasping as she saw Haven and Harper in their dresses.

“You both look gorgeous.” She complimented, grinning from ear to ear, “Seriously, stunning.”

Haven’s head finally turned away from the straps of her heels as she pushed herself off of her chair. She now stood at her full height, plus the two inches her shoes granted her. The angle of her feet also added definition to the toned muscles of her left leg that peeked out between the slit in her dress. She returned the wide smile that Aurora displayed, crinkles forming around her eyes as she too expressed her thoughts proudly.

“Aurora, you look like a princess!” She began before turning her eyes to Harper. “And Harps- wow, I’m so glad you went with the red. It’s breathtaking.” Her thoughts continued to spill from her lips easily, the excitement of the moment making any residual feelings she had for her brunette friend after the awkwardness of earlier disappear from her mind. “You’re also taller than me now. It feels right.”

Haven’s comment drew a soft chuckle from Harper, a sound that felt both foreign given recent events and freeing because it just felt good to laugh.

“If I trip over these heels…I’m blaming you both,” she quipped, a smirk playing on her lips. She’d originally picked up a pair of simple flats on their shopping trip, envisioning the comfort they would bring throughout the night. But the twin incredulous stares from Aurora and Haven had been enough to make her reconsider. Somewhat regretfully, Harper had put the flats back down. Not that she didn’t like the heels she’d ended up with—at least she’d had the morning to break them in, though her feet still ached slightly from the effort.

Harper turned to Aurora then, her eyes widening as she truly took in the sight of her best friend in her stunning light blue gown. She almost looked like she had stepped out of a fairy tale, much like her namesake.

“That dress is perfect on you, Ror,” Harper said, her words genuine but also intended to lift her friend’s spirits.

Amma stared at her dress, gauging the ensemble as a knight would regard their armor.

She had sworn to be devastating and refused to be anything less. As a creature of vanity and hubris, bedeviled with greed and lust, a glutton of insatiable qualms and talents and fed persistently in the allurement she embodied, she would dare reveal the scars that lined her body as tales intertwined with morbid fascination. She poured into the garment with relative ease, adjusting silk against the golden shimmer palmed to her skin, swathes of black expertly aligned against her curves, the color of obsidian silk to emphasize the flaxen hue of her skin. Waxen and beholden to a particular glow, the material clung to her torso, accentuating the lines of her figure. A daring plunge, her neckline scooped low, parting lines of silk over her breasts, and adorned in chiffon that swept out into loose and draping sleeves that fell against slender arms and exposed lithe shoulders. It was all artfully done panels of fabric that fell over her figure, cinched in places before flaring dramatically in others. At her back, she felt the most extended pieces of her hair sweep against the links of her spine, the skirt of her dress extending behind her in shimmering capes, the weight pulled at the panels over her thighs, daring to embellish the asymmetrical slit that parted over scars and skin and ink. Both legs were similarly exposed to elongate the length of her swagger with every step she made, and there, she tugged a laughably short zipper into place and angled her body to glimpse the most severe scars on her back.

With the inked work framed against her bones, she was the visual representation of the macabre and life undone, a ravishing of the most catastrophic of dames that did little to conceal her flaws and wore such with a defying ruthlessness in the daring reveals of skin. Chaos reigned true in the flutter of lashes there, her hair falling to one side as she bent at the waist and slid delicately into heels strapped around her ankles, simplistic stilettos in a velvety black that she clasped closed, dainty toes and adorned in simple polish and affording her a couple of inches.

Amma regaled herself as a queen to the court and contemplated her state of wear with silence. Previous nerves fell away into a coil of unease that flitted away on the precipice of her confidence, the dress chosen having done wonders to balm away her uncertainty. It all came away into something still unknown, the in-between that she was that spelled into the assumption of one thing: danger. Madness.

She merely laughed to herself before she gathered her discarded clothing and left the room, closing the door behind her as excited words fell upon her ears and observed each of the girls in their own armor: red, green, and blue. Primary splashes of color against the black of her selection, each framed in beauty and elegance, transformed from girls into women who dominated their respective strengths and heralded their prowess by the garments adorned to their physiques. Amma placed her clothes with her cosmetic kit, silently procuring various metals of simplistic jewelry: a few rings to adorn her scarred fingers, a bracelet of gold, and then one of silver to nestle beside it. She kept to the usual black stud in her ears, gold hoop through her septum, and opted away from a necklace, allowing the bisected moth and scar to remain seen for all the world to regard, for hiding such beneath a pendant or a string of sparkling adornment seemed dismissive of the trials and pain she had faced against the manifestation of her would-be self had she been known as Beloved. With a soft breath and a sweep through her mane of hair, she said:

"You all look beautiful. Your dates should be so lucky."

Haven’s jaw dropped a fraction as her gaze swept over the raven haired woman, quickly corrected by the wide smile that returned to her lips. Amma’s tragic beauty was outlined by the contrast of the darkest black against her scarred and pale skin. She’d never seen her look so regal.

“You look gorgeous, Amma.” She offered happily, before she gently clapped her hands together. “Let’s take one more shot before we go, if you’re up for it.”

That said, Haven returned to her drink station by the fridge. She began to pour a single into the glass she’d left there, tossing a look over her shoulder. “If you’d like one, bring your glass over. But no pressure this time.”

“You really do, Amma,” Aurora concurred, but gorgeous didn’t even cover how devastating the raven haired girl was in that dress. A lethal kind of beauty that few could match, she was certain all eyes would be on her at the dance, including his. And for that, she felt a new emotion towards Amma, one that she hadn’t felt before. Envy. The redhead grabbed her glass, another shot sounding like exactly what she needed in that moment. But as she filled it, a sound echoed through the dorm.

A knock on the door.

Looking down at her phone, 8:03pm stared back at Aurora, all signs pointing to the fact that her date had just arrived and it was time to face the music. Part of her had hoped the girls would have left by now so she didn’t have to reveal the situation to them like this, but of course things never went according to plan.

“I’ll get it,” The redhead quickly chimed before anyone else could offer, her voice a slightly higher pitch in her unease. She made her way towards the door and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror before opening it. Sure enough, standing there waiting was Chadwick Patterson, dressed in a tailored black suit that looked like it had been made specifically for him. His eyes wandered, taking in Aurora’s appearance, a roguish smirk tugging on his lips, before returning his gaze to hers.

“Wow, Aurora, you look…” He smiled, a genuine wide smile, shaking his head as if he was in disbelief of his luck, “You look amazing. Ready to go?”

“Thank you,” Aurora couldn’t help but blush, not having expected such a compliment or reaction from him. “Yeah, let me just get my bag,” Turning around, she looked at her friends sheepishly before walking to the kitchen table and grabbing her clutch. Fishing inside, she grabbed her key and handed it to Harper. “Just, uh, lock the door behind you and make sure the lights are off, I’ll clean up tomorrow.” Chad took a step into the dorm, not having expected an audience.

“Ladies,” He greeted politely with a nod towards Amma, Harper, and Haven, a debonair quality about him.

Harper took the key from Aurora, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Chad, sizing him up in a single, practiced sweep of her gaze. His suit was impeccable, tailored to perfection, and he carried himself with a confidence that seemed to belong at a formal event. Still, there was something almost too perfect about him, a polished veneer that made her want to scratch the surface.

“Well, it’s good to see you dressed for the occasion, Chad,” she said, her tone casual but with a hint of amusement. She let her gaze linger on him for a moment longer, noting the way his suit accentuated his frame, before adding, “Aurora clearly has an eye for… last-minute decisions.” The irony of her words was not lost on Harper, considering how meticulously she’d planned the movie night with Aurora. But then again, she wasn’t the one arriving on someone’s arm in a suit that screamed “I planned this weeks ago”.

Meanwhile, Haven had smoothly made her way to where Aurora set her shot down the moment she heard his voice at the door, taking it into her hand as if it were her own. She quickly threw the shot back before the redhead could notice, her wings twitching with the laugh she suppressed while Harper mused behind her. Her secret mission complete, and empty shot glass still in hand, Haven turned to greet the unexpected date with a less than friendly smile.

“Don’t you look like a gentleman tonight.” She said with a gesture at his suit. Her eyebrow rose a fraction, green and gold eyes seeming to convey what she would have said if Aurora wasn’t within earshot. Hope he acts like one too.

Amma doesn’t say anything. While Harper and Haven greet him, their unspooling tension and perplexity compounded by things left unsaid and pinging away betwixt her ears, she merely stares Chadwick Patterson down. A siring of blue eyes that immediately flashed silver, for this was not the man she expected to greet them at Aurora’s door, and the way he gravitated towards locks of spun gold, a halo of innocence and promising beauty that she was, he was likened to a sensual beast prepared to pounce and devour. Another predator, a dangerous fragment that she recognized immediately for the reputation he heralded in Gulo, even she knew of him, his likeness that girls fell over and then wept for becoming cruelly enraptured by false hopes.

The glass in her hand immediately shatters. Fated wisps of scarlet sheer through the weeping lines in her palms, plinking graces of sound and glass fragments that are swept and feathered away into nothing by the swell of silver and black that oozes away from her pores. The sudden wounds in her skin immediately fed with the ambient HZEs that lance through the room, and there Amma turned her eyes towards Aurora, and though her full lips stayed sealed, the fettered emotions within those half-bidden lashes sheer into a glare. She shakes out her hand, bones cracking, fingers splayed as the slivers of crimson lined into her hand slowly fade, along with the wealth of her stare as she calmly turns and plucks one of the boutonnieres from the box and gathers her things with silent efficiency. She spared no words or explanations; she didn’t have a date for the evening, so no caller would come to collect her, and she would not be so designed to wait. Amma’s memory returned to their shared words in the ward, all the laments of love, hope, and desire that defied, no, betrayed, the reveal that Chad and not Lorcán came for Aurora’s hand.

“Have fun, girls. I’ll see you all later,” she said aloud, not sparing Chad another look before she driftedcloser to Aurora. Her head was canted, her gaze trailing down and then up in slow increments before she whispered, “Be careful.”

And then Amma left; she had a certain someone to find.

Following Amma’s small outburst, Haven held her breath as she turned to clean up what little mess they’d made on the kitchen counter. Rory would be arriving outside soon, anyway. She placed the empty glasses in the sink, her gaze hesitating on her own remaining shot. It was too tempting to take it, but even she was aware that her high tolerance had its limit. So she poured it out in the sink, a small tribute to Calli who was in the states and for Katja, who was nowhere to be found these days.

She finally took a breath as she moved to shove the near empty bottle in her duffle. “Rora, I’m gonna leave my bag in your closet. I’ll grab it from you tomorrow, if that’s alright.” She turned to offer a small smile in her direction. “Have fun tonight. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

Aurora watched the reactions from her teammates, took in their expressions as they each realized that Chad was her date to the dance. Harper’s demeanor was expected, Haven’s too, but it was Amma’s visceral response that she was taken aback by. Her whispered words lingered even after she left the dorm, words of warning that the redhead didn’t comprehend. Shaking off the discomfort that quickly settled within her, she picked up one of the boutonnieres from the box along with her clutch and approached Chad with a shy smile before looking back at Haven.

“Of course, no problem,” She answered, before returning her gaze to the boy next to her. “Alright, shall we?”

“We shall.” Chad offered the redhead his arm, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it, noticing instantly how he didn’t radiate any warmth. With a nod, the two walked out of the dorm and towards the A.R.C. where the dance awaited them.

Harper watched as Aurora took Chad’s arm, the pair heading out the door toward the dance. The room felt quieter, emptier, once they were gone, leaving just her and Haven behind. Her gaze trailed from the closed door to the spot where Amma had stood. The shattered glass had vanished, but the friction that had passed between them all was still felt to a degree, a subtle undercurrent that refused to be ignored.

She let out a slow breath, leaning against the counter as her thoughts drifted. Aurora had chosen Chad, but that choice hadn’t been her first. Harper knew that all too well. There was a certain irony in how the redhead had ended up with Chad at the last minute, and it wasn’t lost on Harper that she herself had made a choice for the dance too—one that wasn’t exactly her first either, a decision that mirrored Aurora’s in its own way.

Cass wasn’t the first person who came to mind when she thought about the dance, and in some ways, he was the easier choice compared to Gil. There wasn’t the same history, the same tension that seemed to coil around her whenever she thought of her charismatic teammate. But as she stood there, leaning against the counter, she found herself not regretting it. Unlike how Aurora probably felt, Harper felt a sense of calm, a quiet acceptance that maybe, just maybe, the easier choice wasn’t such a bad one after all.

With that thought, Harper reached into the pocket of the hoodie draped over her arm and pulled out her phone. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she typed out a quick message to Cass: See you soon. The simplicity of the message seemed right. It was a promise fulfilled without the complications of the past. She hit send, feeling a flutter of anticipation in her chest.

She slipped her phone into her bra—how unlike her to not think of buying a clutch—and started toward the door, hanging her hoodie in the closet as she passed. Just as she reached for the handle, Harper paused, her hand hovering in mid-air. She turned back to Haven, who was tidying up the last remnants of the evening’s preparations, the words forming on her lips before she finally spoke.

“You coming?” the brunette asked with a half-smile, her voice breaking the stillness of the room.

“Yeah, one sec.” Haven hummed as she dried her hands on the hand towel by the sink. She reached for her duffle from the table, fishing out her flip phone from the bag as she heard the buzz of a notification from within. The duffle was then stashed in the closet before she slipped out of the dorm between Harper and the doorframe, her wings tucking into her back to avoid a group of passing students in their finery. She stood with Harper as the door was locked, sucking on her teeth before taking a short breath. “Rory’s here, so I’m gonna walk with him.” Her eyes flitted between the similar hazels in front of her. She knew Harper had her date, and even her friend in case she needed someone, but she had to make sure that Harper knew Haven cared for her despite the tension that lingered between them. After all that had happened since the school year began, she wasn’t sure she’d ever assume an event at PRCU would be peaceful again. “I hope you have a good time tonight, too. Feel free to call if you need anything.” Her smile was quick, a small effort, before she turned her wings to the brunette to make her way out of the Myotis dorm.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Myotis Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.040: Dancing on Eggshells

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_{Interaction(s): Harper @Qia, Aurora @Melissa, Amma @Rockette}

Previously: Gulls Just Wanna Have Fun

“Leave the hair to me, I’ll go plug back in my curling iron,” Aurora assured, quickly rushing to the bathroom so the tool could have ample time to heat up.

“Better yet, we'll make his heart stop when he sees you,” Amma claimed, setting her glass aside and reaching for the black case she had thought to bring. Brass clasps snapped open before she carefully began procuring an assortment of cosmetics: glittering hues of bronze, green, and gold, expertly sealed pots of color that she hummed over, eyes flitting back towards Haven and Harper.

“What color is your dress again? Green? I can go entirely bold if you want,” she made a vague gesture towards her eyes donned in dramatic black. It was quaint, almost, to be amongst them. If anyone had inquired about these delicate circumstances a couple of weeks ago, Amma would've scoffed and laughed, and she would've mocked and lanced back with waspish words and biting tongues. The comparison is daunting, almost sudden, to think so much had happened in such a short time.

Haven’s brows lifted as the pair immediately offered their help. Her eyes darted after Aurora and then turned to Amma where she now opened her toolbox of cosmetics. For a moment she processed their words, surprised to find them so willing to help, even debating the thought of holding so much of the group’s attention at once just for her own needs. Then her shyness melted into amusement, a soft laugh bursting from her lips as her eyes crinkled around the edges.

“Please don’t stop my boyfriend's heart.” She mused, the new title slipping from her with ease now that she’d said it before. She moved over to the table as she thought about what she would want done with her eyes. Her duffle was moved from the chair she’d left it on and placed at the center of the mirrors. “Uhhm, how about something in between? Earthy, but a little more natural like Aurora’s.” She thought aloud as she turned the chair sideways to accommodate her extra appendages. Her inhibitions weren’t only relaxed, but she could also feel the sore muscles in her back loosening as well. Her wings splayed out behind her for a moment as she sat, tawny primaries- bar one stolen feather- grazing the floor momentarily before they lifted and rested behind her in the open space she’d created for them. “I have some browns in my bag if you need anything. Feel free to dig around, or I can pull them out too.”

Aurora emerged, having completed the aforementioned task, meandering back into the living area with her arms crossed over her body. She watched as Amma began to work on Haven, the ease in which she carried herself evident, gaze still lingering on her stunning makeup and hair. The redhead sighed, her confidence wavering and her inner monologue instilling doubt in her mind. She was psyching herself out, not only for her date but also for the conversation she was preparing to have at the end of the night with Lorcán.

She’d practiced in the mirror this afternoon and had attempted to find the right words to convey her feelings and emotions. But she gave up after realizing how silly she sounded trying to plan things out. Now, seeing the girl that the boy that she loved was interested in, it was just making the effort all the more futile. There was no way that he felt the same. Aurora stood next to Harper, a slight distance away from the table, nudging her gently with her elbow.

“Do you think I’m wearing enough makeup?” She asked in a hushed tone, “I’m second-guessing myself.”

“Rora, you look gorgeous!” Haven’s tone was almost scolding.

Harper’s attention flicked from Amma’s work on Haven to Aurora, who had quietly crept back into the room. As Aurora voiced her insecurities, she felt a familiar pang of empathy settle deep in her chest. She knew all too well the poisonous effect of self-doubt and how it could gnaw at you from the inside. Before she could respond, however, Haven’s reassuring words filled the space, seemingly echoing the sentiments she had wished to express.

Harper listened to Haven’s uplifting tone, but it left her with a vague, unsettled feeling she couldn’t quite identify. It was a fleeting sense of being out of step, something she couldn’t easily pinpoint. Although the words were meant to soothe, she felt that something was missing—a nuance that Haven’s reassurances didn’t quite capture. She glanced at Aurora and noticed her friend’s shoulders remained tense, with a flicker of doubt still visible in her eyes. Was there more she could say to Aurora that hadn’t already been said, though?

She was starting to feel somewhat…frustrated. With herself and with her best friend.

The urge to say something comforting and specific to the situation tugged at Harper either way, but the words felt stuck, tangled up with her own uncertainty about it. She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, the moment slipping past as quickly as it had come. Instead, she forced a small smile, trying to mask the remaining unease. Her mind raced, searching for the right words, but they eluded her. She wished she could find the perfect thing to say, something that would truly help.

“You know what....fuck 'em,” Harper said quietly, finally voicing her thoughts as she glanced over at the redhead. “Just focus on yourself tonight, okay? Because you look frickin fantastic.” The soft glow of the evening light highlighted the Aurora’s features, making her look even more radiant. Harper’s eyes softened as she added, “Seriously, you deserve to enjoy this night without concerning yourself with anything else.”

“It’s going to be a little challenging to-” She started to say, was about to explain that between Chad and Lorcán she wasn’t sure how she was going to have the opportunity to focus on herself, but she stopped in her tracks. Haven didn’t know she had accepted a different date, and neither did Amma for that matter. The last thing she wanted to do at that moment was open another can of worms and be subject to both of their opinions on the matter. Her winged friend would definitely have things to say, negative she was certain. Plus, she’d just defended her love for Lorcán to Amma the other day, it was hypocritical if anything that she flippantly chose to go with someone else. So the redhead simply swallowed and nodded, looking between the group of them, forcing a smile. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” Aurora chose to agree, nipping the conversation in the bud.

Well, at least until Chad came and picked her up at 8.

The smile didn’t reach Aurora’s eyes, and Harper could see the strain etched into every line of her face. Aurora’s lips curved upward, but her eyes remained shadowed with doubt, a stark contrast that Harper couldn’t ignore. She recognized the forced nature of the smile, but she held back, knowing the fragile balance of offering support without overstepping—a lesson learned from past mistakes.

Instead, Harper opted for a different approach. She offered a playful wink and a small, reassuring smile. “Of course I am. When am I never?” she teased, her words light and airy, designed to lift Aurora’s spirits. Yet, deep down, Harper couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that her reassurances were falling short this time.

Unfortunately, things were about to get worse.

Amma tucked her index finger under Haven’s chin, tilting her canvas back to her with a muttered, “Quit moving.” The restless subject blinked and obeyed, her tan hands coming together in her lap to fidget as she poured her energy into her digits. Amma had delicately smoked out a dark olive green on her lash line and the crease of her fluttering gaze, mindful of the delicate look she requested but still emphasizing the hue of her bi-colored stare with touches of bronze all over the lid and a highlight of gold upon her brow. Striking but otherwise natural, she then took a small pointed brush and added the lightest lines of a dark brown color onto the outer corner, just simplistic flicks to elongate her look.

She’s listening to all their doubts, reservations, and constant reassurances proffered to one another so readily; it’s almost natural, the immediate need to soothe each other with placating words.

“What’s stopping either of you from going all out?” Amma offers, stepping back to assess her work before she leans back in. She curls Haven’s lashes with ease, mindful of the mascara brush next as she instructs her to look up, expertly working the bristles through her lashes every time she blinks.

“They always say less is more,” a laugh falls from her lips, a near-mocking trill accentuating the smirk across her face. “That doesn’t work for me.”

“But, it works for you.” She takes more touches of bronze to the high points of Haven’s face. “We can try to focus on ourselves and the fun we will have. But I know I’m going with full intention to distract a certain someone.”

A certain someone.

Aurora swallowed, her left eye twitching ever so slightly and her heartbeat escalating as her anxiety grew. There was only one person that Amma could be referring to, and that someone was her someone. Well, not hers, he was far from hers, that she already knew. But still, hearing it out in the open was definitely not getting any easier. With a curt nod, she let her gaze search around the room.

“Now where did I put my drink,” The redhead queried aloud, a bit louder and more hurried than she intended, before remembering that she had brought it to the bathroom with her when she plugged in the iron. Taking the moment to excuse herself, she walked back in that direction, her facial expression falling once her back was turned.

Harper’s eyes followed Aurora as she disappeared into the bathroom, her concern growing with each passing second that the redhead remained inside. The knot in her stomach tightened, a physical manifestation of her worry. She knew all too well about Aurora’s feelings for Lorcán and could easily assume that the comment had struck a nerve. Yet, for now, all she could do was wait.

Meanwhile, Haven couldn’t help herself, her eyes flicking in Aurora’s general direction. All she saw was a flash of copper from the corner of her vision. She quickly recovered, remembering Amma’s instructions, and looked over the expression on her artist’s face as she continued to be the perfect subject. Well, about as perfectly still as she could make herself be.

The awkward interaction with Lorcán blazed through her thoughts, as much as she wished it hadn’t as her lips twitched downwards for a moment with the unpleasant memory. There had to be something she was missing. Something her sleep-deprived brain must have looked over while she spoke with the upset brah. It also just didn’t make sense that she hadn’t heard Amma come into the dorm last night. It had been eating at her all day. Certainly Amma wouldn’t speak of Lorcán like that in front of Aurora, either. She drew air through her nose, her fingers twitching again, and the boldness of her next words were definitely the double shots doing as she popped the question.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

None of your business.

The words were on the tip of Harper’s tongue as Haven posed the inquiry. A wave of irritation surged through her, hot and prickly, but she swallowed it down, knowing that snapping would only pour fuel on the fire. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain composed. Instead of lashing out, she shifted her focus to Amma, watching intently for any sign of how she was handling the intrusive inquiry. All the while, Harper’s face remained a carefully crafted mask of neutrality, even as her mind churned with the effort of restraint.

“You really ask too many questions, Haven.” Amma lanced back quickly, tapping a brush against the tip of Haven’s nose before she leaned back, finger poised against Haven’s chin, tilting her head to one side to capture the glimmering highlight upon her cheek with a satisfied nod.

“But if you really must know, you’ll just have to wait and see. He has the most interesting eyes.”

Haven’s nose crinkled in a playful scowl after the brush had tapped it. Yet she didn’t push any further with Amma’s delicate touch on her chin, tilting her head to be positioned as wished. It was a strange feeling to be this close to the raven-haired teammate. While she was oddly comfortable with it, no doubt because of their moment that morning, she did wonder for a moment what Rory would think about it. How he had warned her to be careful around Amma.

Harper cringed inwardly, every fibre of her being recoiling from the emotional shrapnel unintentionally fired by their enigmatic teammate. It felt as if a bullet had been aimed straight at Aurora’s heart, and she was powerless to intercept it. No matter how desperately she wished she could shield her friend from the pain, she knew she couldn’t. As always.

Yet, that wasn’t even the worst part of all of this for her.

A small part of her wondered if this might be a good thing. If Amma really did have feelings for Lorcán, perhaps this was a turning point. Maybe, because of him, the raven-haired woman was starting to open up in ways she never had before. This possibility brought a glimmer of hope for deeper connections within their team. Still…

“How about we change the subject?” Harper suggested, her voice carrying a subtle edge of finality. “I don’t think Amma needs to be interrogated like this.”

Something about the way Harper spoke burned a hole in Haven’s stomach. That hint of irritation her words had carried with them didn’t go unnoticed. What right did Harper have to be getting upset? When did the brunette start to feel defensive of Amma? And why couldn’t she have been that way earlier, when her friend had acted much worse?

“It was just one question,” Haven spoke softly as she rebutted, and yet she avoided looking Amma in the eye. It might have been obvious she was prying, but she was doing it for the sake of her own mind. It was none of her business to know what they might have done in the room, but it was her business to know if anyone entering the dorm had gone unnoticed. She found herself turning her head out of Amma’s reach, desperate to find something else to focus her attention on as her eyes caught sight of the mirror beside her.

All of her uncertainty blew away with the wind as she saw her reflection within it. She leaned in to get a full view of what she saw before her. She looked like a truly grown woman. While she thought her natural state was beautiful on its own, the cosmetics had enhanced that nature and turned it into something breathtaking. The colors chosen reflected the lush forests she adored so well, the golds brightening her eyes like the sun had kissed her.

“Amma, this is… wow.” She breathed, her eyes darting about the mirror to take in each place the makeup had been set. “Thank you. I think his heart might actually skip a beat.”

“Of course it will.” She carefully began putting away her things, the shots from earlier sending spindling leagues of warmth through her, a sort of ease dispelled through her movements.

Aurora awkwardly cleared her throat as she exited the bathroom and stepped closer to the pair, her heart having sunk even further at the mention of Lorcán’s sunset eyes.

“Haven, I uh,” She found her voice to be softer than prior, more hesitant, “The curling iron is heated up, I can start your hair if you’re ready.” The redhead took in the makeup job that Amma did, of course, it was perfect, why wouldn’t it have been anything but? Putting her pride aside, she met the matching pair of blue eyes a few feet away, “You did a really nice job,” She complimented before walking back to the bathroom without another word.

This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

Haven turned to face Aurora with a smile when she first heard the redhead’s approach. Her recovered excitement was visible in her eyes as she remembered that she hadn’t even finished getting ready. The excitement quickly dulled into soft concern as she heard Rora’s tone. Her lips parted, almost tempted to ask if her friend was feeling alright, but Harper’s scolding had her holding her tongue. She let Aurora make her retreat from the room before she turned back to Amma.

“I owe you some help for this. Know you don’t want it, but someday you might.” Her smile was quick, falling from her face before it could be squashed by Amma’s rejection. She was up from her chair a moment later as she reached for her duffle. Her movements were equally swift as she moved to the bathroom, the duffle hanging from her grip.

Harper watched as Haven left the room, trailing after Aurora into the bathroom. Though the door remained ajar, an unexpected wave of discomfort washed over her, prickling her skin like a thousand tiny needles. The open door felt like an invisible barrier she couldn’t cross, amplifying her sense of unease and making the room feel even more suffocating. Her gaze flicked to Amma, who was meticulously packing away her makeup supplies. Each movement was calm and methodical, almost graceful, as if she were performing a delicate dance. How she managed to make such a simple act so…mystifying was beyond Harper. The brunette found herself mesmerized, momentarily distracted from her own discomfort by the serene precision of Amma’s actions.

For a moment, Harper was tempted to shatter the silence, to confront Amma directly about what was going on between her and Lorcán. The question burned on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back—the gnawing uncertainty of whether she truly wanted to hear the answer, or, like Haven, if it was even her place to ask.

Instead, she opted for a different approach. “You really have a way with makeup,” Harper said, though her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. She wasn’t just referring to Amma’s deft skill with brushes and colours—there was an intangible quality to the way Amma carried herself, an aura of quiet confidence and insight that Harper couldn’t quite pin down. “It’s like you see more than the rest of us do.”

Harper knew it was a vague statement, almost cryptic, but she couldn’t bring herself to be more direct. She wanted to understand Amma, to uncover the layers behind this change in her demeanour, but she also didn’t want to push too hard. The desire to connect and the fear of overstepping waged a silent battle within her. She hoped her words would open a door, even just a crack, to the deeper truths she sensed were hidden beneath Amma’s composed exterior.

She tensed; it was subtle, barely noticed through the mindful placement of her gestures as she put her things away. Everything was in place until she snapped it closed with a whistling sigh over the pout of her lip. The brass clasps were almost too loud and severe, and her breath punctuated the space between them as Amma turned to regard Harper carefully.

“Call it experience, I guess.” She rejoined, a subdued bite to her usual whispers, the husk that carried through her annunciation with her accent tapered off just at the end. She was a perceptive creature, and it did not go unnoticed–the immediate threads of uncertainty– with the vague suggestions of her words to whom she intended at the dance, but did she owe it to them to clarify?

“I see many things, but no more than you, I imagine, mm?”

“Maybe,” Harper replied, her tone contemplative, almost as if she was speaking more to herself than to Amma. “But it feels like you’re always a step ahead. Like you see what’s coming before the rest of us even realize there’s something to see.” She shifted her weight slightly, her fingers idly playing with the hem of her well-worn black hoodie. “Back when we talked about what comes after graduation, you warned us about the world outside-the darkness and fear it holds. It’s almost like…you’ve been preparing for it your whole life. I just wonder…if that’s why you always seem to see things before the rest of us do.”

“Because that is what my life was,” Amma leaned back, arms crossed, almost defensively, before she dropped them, allowing her gaze to track every idle motion Harper made, allowing the intensity of her eyes to peer yonder the usual reserve the girl kept; that faithful and unwavering stance she was known for, bidden under a haze of unease that was unlike her. Amma always assumed her rigidity, but something had shifted there, and unspoken through her words was a question she knew was not so easily proposed.

“For the world outside is dark, and it is afraid, as it always will be. And I have seen what it offers me, and I have found it lacking. You live in the darkness long enough that you see what comes through and becomes of it, always hiding in the shadows.” She delicately holds out her hand; fingers splayed, the scars worn into her palms and through her gestures suddenly aglow in a series of crimson coils that spin away from her flesh, attaching onto the fringes of the world she so easily dismantled. “Even so, I have chosen to live, and I will do so without forgiveness until I take everything back that was taken from me.”

Harper’s gaze locked onto the crimson coils, mesmerized as they twisted and danced around Amma’s hand. The light they cast flickered across Amma’s features, painting her in an otherworldly glow. Each movement of the coils seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a silent symphony of power and grace. Amma’s voice, her words, carried a quiet power that resonated deep within Harper’s core. It was as if the very essence of strength and certainty was woven into them, stirring something primal inside her. A sharp, almost painful twist of emotion.

Was it envy that Amma could wield such power with ease? Admiration for her unwavering resolve? Or perhaps a glimmer of fear at the sheer magnitude of what she was witnessing?

Meanwhile, Aurora motioned for Haven to take a seat, having pulled one of the barstools from the kitchen area into the bathroom to make the process more comfortable for both girls. After all, Aurora was a few inches shorter than her winged friend, not to mention the shortest member of Blackjack. It’d be easier to get the job done this way.

“I have some hair ties and clips in my bag if you think we need them, Rora.” Haven began as she entered the threshold. “I don’t mind what we do with it, I just want it out of my face.” Her eyes moved over her friend's expression as she set the bag down on the sink, and she found herself wondering if this was something Aurora was still up for. “I can do it myself if you show me. I don’t want to keep you from anything else you need to do.”

The redhead quickly shook her head, forcing a smile and trying to mask any air of discomfort that she may have been feeling in the moment. It didn’t matter that she was uneasy about everything going on between Amma and Lorcán, didn’t matter that any confessions she would make later were going to fall on deaf ears, she couldn’t let that ruin her night or put a damper on this much needed normalcy in a sea of hardship.

“I’m thinking a braid would be nice,” Aurora mused, examining Haven’s head and seeing what she had to work with. She went to move around her hair, but hesitated. Knowing that she was probably still shaken up from the experiences she’d been subject to, she chose to air on the side of caution. “Can I touch your hair?” She asked, looking at her friend through the reflection of the mirror in front of them.

Haven took her place on the stool slowly as she watched Aurora for any sign of doubt. Her body didn’t relax in the chair until it seemed to her that the redhead wasn’t looking to speak on what was bothering her. Tawny wings lowered themselves to make her hair accessible, the extra length that would have been grazing the floor behind moving to nearly wrap around the stool at her feet. She slid her feet out of her slides as the conversation in the living area caught her attention, briefly wondering what Harper had started with her theory as the pads of her feet pressed against the stool’s footrest. It almost distracted her from Aurora’s question.

Her eyes lifted from the counter where she’d been eyeing the curling iron to meet the sapphires that reflected in the mirror. Rora’s question hit home, right in the center of her chest. She found herself blinking once as her mind processed it. The liquor was doing its job well. Any memories when she hadn’t been asked such a question, that would have easily overwhelmed her, remained at the back of her mind like a dark and distant cloud.

Instead she felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and a wide, grateful smile spread across her lips as she nodded. “Of course, Rora.” Her tone was soft, tinged with a wistful lilt that underlined the gravity of what the question meant to her. The love she felt for Rora in this moment still shined in her eyes despite it.

The redhead nodded, a small, shy smile pulling her lip upwards. She let her fingers run through Haven’s tresses, sectioning off three portions towards the crown of her head, the beginnings of a dutch braid. It didn’t take long for her to weave the strands together, adding in pieces as she went. While Aurora may not have been strong when it came to her makeup skills, she excelled at all things hair. She was fortunate that during one of her brief foster placements, one of her ‘sisters’ taught her how to braid, having been captivated by her auburn locks. It was a skill that she carried with her since then, one that although seemed useless in practice in comparison to others, definitely came in handy during moments like this.

As she worked her grip downwards, reaching the nape of Haven’s neck, she couldn’t help but notice etched letters that graced her fair skin. It was a language she didn’t recognize, something foreign that she couldn’t quite place, reminiscent of something in one of her textbooks. Knowing better than to pry, Aurora simply assumed that the tattoo was something personal and left it at that. After all, the winged girl had never mentioned having any permanent art on her body.

Grabbing an elastic from the countertop, the redhead tied off the braid with ease, placing it over Haven’s right shoulder. With deft fingers, she pulled out a few pieces from around her temples, wispies that would frame her face. Taking the curling iron, she wrapped the strands in the direction opposite her face, holding them on the barrel for only a few seconds before releasing.

“There,” She stated, setting the iron back down before spraying some hairspray to hold the style, “What do you think?”

Haven had been surprisingly still throughout the process. Her posture, while almost always perfect thanks to years of supporting the limbs on her back, was at ease as she let Aurora’s nimble fingers run through her hair. The moment they shared before had given her a peace of mind she hadn’t felt around anyone but Rory in a long while. Her eyes fluttered to a close, thoughts drifting between the feeling of having her hair played with by someone she’d lost long ago, the conversation between two unsuspecting friends past the doorway, and the gentle breathing of her friend behind her. She would have been lulled to sleep if the redhead took any longer, but eventually she felt the end of her braid tied off. Her soft locks tucked over her shoulder to reveal Rora’s work as Haven’s eyes opened once more.

They followed Aurora’s fingers as the baby hairs were pulled out around her face and styled. There was no doubt they would have naturally fallen out anyways. She admired the look of peace on Aurora’s face as the other worked, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she wished that this moment could last a little longer.

Then the curling iron was set aside, and Haven scrunched her nose in playful discomfort as the hairspray was set upon her. When Aurora stepped away, she finally got a full view of the masterful braid that she now wore. It was much prettier than she expected; the rushed style that Haven might have done on her own would have never come close to it. Her smile spread, dimples appearing easily, and she nodded before looking into Aurora’s eyes. “It’s perfect. Thanks so much, Rora, really.”

“Feel free to style my hair anytime. Seriously. That felt so nice.”

The redhead beamed, happy to have been able to help, thrilled to have contributed positively to Haven’s night. It also didn’t hurt that this was a great distraction from whatever had been going on before between her and Amma, her words still echoing in the back of her mind. Her sapphire eyes seemed to sparkle, a light brought back to them that wasn’t there prior.

“Of course, I’m so glad you like it.”

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Strigidae Dorms - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.029: Pecking Order

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_{Interaction(s): Harper & Sierra @Qia}

Previously: Passarine the Time & Infallible

Haven’s feet shifted as she heard the door’s handle turn, her body betraying the subtle awkwardness that she felt as she overheard the end of what seemed like an intense conversation. The stranger within seemed familiar with Harper beyond the normal visitor. Those whispered words before knocking had a depth and mystery to them. The exchange left Haven uncomfortable for a reason she couldn’t grasp.

She retreated a half of a step further into the hallway, still unsure of how to greet this stranger as the door whisked open to reveal dark red hair and piercing eyes. She’d been torn between stepping up to the woman for speaking that way to Harper, or merely allowing the woman to pass by with the hopes that it would be explained to her at a different time. Yet as her eyes met the woman’s, Haven was caught in an all too familiar game within her mind. An instinctual need to defend herself against someone who might judge her for her differences.

The stranger’s gaze hardly registered Haven’s face, passing right over her shoulders and towards her most precious and defended parts of herself. She’d seen that expression on so many faces before. The clenched jaw, the subconscious disgust and hate in the eyes, and the way their bodies seemed to tense was a telltale sign that they believed Haven was something unnatural. Her bent mind could almost see the word forming on the dark haired woman’s lips.

Freak. Hypie.

Her shoulders squared themselves in response as her chin lifted higher into the air. Her eyes met the woman’s gaze with an intensity to them that she had carefully constructed since she was young. Her wings, even though her joints ached with the movement, lifted higher above her shoulders as she proudly displayed them. She stood there as the definition of strength, completely unashamed of the features that made most balk at her.

“Hey, Harper.” She began cooly, her eyes lingering on the redhead for a moment longer, sizing the shorter woman up, before they flitted over to the brunette. Her eyes were cautious, all of her questions about the stranger that stood in front of her evident within her gaze. They softened as she looked over the makeup that accentuated Harper’s features and reminded her of why she’d come to her door in the first place. Her tone warmed as she spoke to her friend directly. “You look beautiful.”

Harper’s eyes flicked between the two, feeling the tension ripple through the air like a static charge. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, each second stretching into an eternity. She could see the way Haven squared her shoulders, her wings lifting slightly in a display of quiet strength, a silent declaration of readiness. The sight was both awe-inspiring and intimidating, though Sierra’s gaze remained sharp and scrutinizing. Her eyes seemed to narrow as she assessed the situation, every muscle in her body coiled in apprehension.

Neither of them were likely to back down easily, that was for certain. She had to do something. Say something.

“Hey Haven,” Harper greeted again, hesitating as she searched for the right words. “This is Sierra. She’s… an old friend from back home. Just visiting for the weekend.” Her voice wavered slightly, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. She added a small, awkward smile, hoping it would lighten the mood, but the effort felt forced. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken questions and the palpable pressure between the three of them. The brunette could feel the different currents of emotion swirling around them, each person caught in their own web of thoughts and feelings.

Remembering that she’d been complimented, Harper quickly tacked on, “You look great too. I, uh, didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

The smile that Haven presented was anything but awkward, yet it lacked the usual warmth that it had in Harper’s presence. It didn’t reach her eyes; her cheeks were devoid of her usual dimples that appeared when she felt comfortable. It was just another defense mechanism among the many that reared themselves in the face of adversity. She glanced down at herself, feeling undressed and unmade compared to the glow that Harper radiated with her makeup on.

“Thanks,” she began, her eyes lifting to meet Harper’s anxious gaze, “but I haven’t done anything with myself yet. I was hoping someone would help me with it at Rora’s.” Her eyes shifted to meet Sierra’s harsh examination. Her own green and golds seemed to dare the visitor to speak her mind as she spoke again. “Your friend has done a great job so far, though.”

Harper blinked, only now fully taking in her winged friend’s regular appearance. The realization of her mistake hit her like a wave, a nervous blush creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks.

“Oh right, I meant that…you always look nice,” the brunette finished somewhat lamely, her voice trailing off as she struggled to recover. In the moment, she’d completely forgotten about the plan to go to Rora’s to meet the rest of the girls. And to make matters worse, it seemed Sierra’s silence was officially over, Harper spotting a sly smile beginning to form on her lips.

Please, Si, don’t make this worse.

Without a hint of malice but with an edge of judgment, the redhead said, “You do have quite the look to you. Your wings are…pretty. Though,” she held up her fingers, making exaggerated airquotes, “I confess I’m still getting used to this whole hyperhuman thing.” She threw a glance at Harper before returning her gaze to Haven.

“I’m not one of your kind, you see.”

Haven’s heart beat faster with each word Sierra spoke. Her attempt at flattery, or was it outright mockery, brought forth the words of the last person to compliment them. His voice chilled the adrenaline that had begun to pump into her veins, yet the burning anger she felt in her gut battled the feeling. Tension coiled in the muscles of her back as she strained her recent injury with the effort to continue to display her pride.

Yet when she spoke again her tone was casual, as if the intensity in her eyes did not reach her voice. Part of her understood that Harper would never allow someone with such hate onto the island unless they had some sort of redeeming quality to them, and so she was putting further effort into remaining composed only because the redhead was her friend’s visitor. Her friend’s increasing worry was visible in her peripherals. Haven couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Harper because she knew she would soften further with one glance. Her own instincts were telling her to keep her eyes on the potential threat, to continue to put forth the act of strength it was to even deign to give the woman a response.

“Well, I’m Haven, one of Harper’s teammates. Usually I would have flown over myself, but I thought I’d walk with Harper tonight. She’s been a great friend since she came to the island. . I’m sure you know that already.” Of course, she couldn’t resist a subtle push against the visitor’s buttons. Even if she hid the fact that, currently, she was a flightless bird. Her wings tethered to the ground by an invisible chain of misfortune. It wasn’t something Harper was aware of either, and it certainly wasn’t something she’d share with her now. Not with the brunette’s old friend looking at her in that painfully familiar way.

Harper’s gaze darted between the two, her heart racing as she felt the air in the room grow warmer.

“Well, I’m glad you both had a chance to meet, but I’m afraid Sierra was just on her way out. Isn’t that right, Si?” Harper’s voice was light, almost too casual, as she stepped forward, trying to once again lighten the mood. The effort felt strained, the words a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation.

Her sister’s sly smile widened as she glanced at her, causing Harper’s skin to crawl. Why was she making this so hard for her?

“Actually, I was thinking…” Sierra paused, her voice lilting with playful mischief.

Harper’s pulse quickened, her palms growing clammy.

“Why don’t I tag along instead? If the rest of your friends are as…interesting as Haven here, I would love to meet them.”

Harper’s stomach dropped, a heavy, sinking feeling that made her feel as if the ground had vanished beneath her feet. “No, you can’t!” The words burst from her lips, sharper and more forceful than she had intended. The intensity of her own voice startled her, and she saw a flicker of what looked like surprise in Sierra’s eyes. The brunette’s heart raced as she quickly tried to soften her tone, her expression shifting from shock to a desperate apology. “I mean… it’s just, I don’t think it’s really your scene. The girls… they’re not…”

Sierra’s eyes narrowed, her playful demeanor hardening into something far more menacing.

“Not what, Harper? Not my kind?” The words were laced with an edge that cut through Harper like a knife, each syllable a clear challenge. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her mind scrambling for a response that wouldn’t make things worse.

Haven wanted to wipe that smirk off of Sierra’s face. Perhaps if she’d met this woman in a different place, and Harper hadn’t been around to see her friend act so rudely, she might have indulged her aggressive impulses. Her hand remained loose at her side to avoid giving her in her rage away. It was obvious that the visitor wanted to get a rise out of Haven, and even more obvious that she was intending to harm Harper with her words even more so.

She noticed how this seemed to break Harper’s usual cool demeanor. Her eyes risked a glance at her friend as she blurted out. What she saw there was panic, and a trace of fear. It awoke something inside her, her defensive mind yearning now to defend someone she cared for.

“Oh, I’m the only one with physical signs of the hype gene.” She began casually, even shifting her wings behind her to emphasize, her shoulders rolling with the movement. She shifted her weight onto one hip, feigning a relaxed posture. “Yet I’m still just as human as you are. As Harper is, too.” Her lips curled downwards into a small frown as her head canted to the side. “It’s disappointing that you talk to a friend like this. Harper is too good for that.”

Sierra’s eyes flickered with something dark, her smirk fading as Haven’s words struck a nerve. Harper could feel a shift in the room, the clash of wills that was about to unfold, her lip coming to rest on her teeth in response. The challenge in Haven’s tone, coupled with the protective stance she took towards Harper, clearly didn’t sit well with her older sister.

“Disappointing, huh?” Sierra’s voice was low, the playful lilt completely gone now. “Funny, coming from someone who just met me.” The words were a direct challenge, each one dripping with disdain. She took a step closer, her gaze locked on Haven. “But you know what’s really disappointing? How easily you think you can understand someone with just a few words.” Sierra’s gaze shifted to Harper then, the hardness of her stare making her feel exposed and vulnerable.“Or maybe you think Harper needs protecting from me?” The redhead shook her head in denial of the idea.

“She’s never needed any protection from me. Only from people like you.”

Harper’s breath caught as she realized how close this was to spiraling out of control. The tension in the room was almost tangible, a thick fog of unease that threatened to suffocate her. She stepped forward, placing herself between the two of them, her hands slightly raised as if to physically keep them apart.

“Sierra, stop it,” she pleaded, her voice almost breaking under the stress of her emotions. Sierra’s eyes, however, didn’t waver from Haven, even as she stepped between them.

Haven met Sierra’s piercing eyes with her own, although her eyes were now narrowed with incredulity. She had to admit that there was a blurred line between truth and lie in Sierra’s words, but to say that all hyperhumans were a threat to Harper was a far-fetched statement that made her blood boil once more.

Yet when Harper stepped between them with her pleading words and raised hands, Haven relented. She took a step backwards, forcing her shoulders to release the tension as her wings rested behind her once more. She couldn’t believe that Harper was friends with someone who thought this way, but she couldn’t deny that it was obvious Sierra also cared for the brunette.

”Stop what?” Sierra shot back still, causing Harper to flinch at the power behind her voice. “Stop pointing out what’s right in front of you? Harper, open your eyes. Look at what happened to you before! This place is changing you, and not for the better.” Each word was a hammer blow, striking at Harper’s already fragile resolve. Sierra’s eyes finally turned to hers, locking on with a fierce intensity, daring her to challenge her words.

“It almost killed you.”

“Where do you expect her to go?” Haven asked from behind Harper. Her quiet voice still held its intensity. It was soft only for Harper’s benefit. “Surely there are people off of this island that would also wish to harm her just for being born different. At least here she is accepted for all of who she is. She doesn’t have to hide anything from us.”

Her gaze moved between Harper and the redhead as she wondered just how close the women really were. “I have to admit that this school has never been as safe as we hoped, but it is the only place that truly accepts us as people. What will you do to make sure that Harper is safe out there, where most hold so much judgment over people who are different than they are? When you look at our kind that way yourself.”

Sierra’s eyes returned to Haven, then flicked to her wings, a look of disdain crossing her features. “No…not your kind,” Sierra replied, her voice cold and dismissive. “Just one.”

Haven felt her lesser coverts stand tall as Sierra’s sharp look of contempt ignited her anger once more. A muscle in her neck ticked as her jawline went rigid. An inner battle waged within her heart as she mulled over the woman’s short answer. She couldn’t begin to understand what Sierra meant by just one, and yet it confused her that this one hyperhuman, or one type of hyperhuman, was the reason she had that look on her face. It brought forth too many memories of being sneered at by the girls at the home. The ranger’s look of disgust in the forest. Sierra’s gaze reminded her of all the times when she was traveling that she was denied service by people who held that very look in their eyes. It made her recall the hatred in Daedalus's eyes as he told her she was lesser because of them. Her instincts were telling her to defend, but with Harper standing there between them she knew better than to act impulsively.

Though she still couldn’t hold her tongue.

“Why do you look at my wings like that, then?” Haven snapped, her question nearly a demand, as her usual curiosity took control of her lips. She knew that she’d owe Harper an apology for it later, but it was too much to simply brush it off her shoulders like she should.

“Because they’re a reminder,” Sierra replied, her voice cool and measured, each word now dripping with contempt. “A reminder of what happens when people think they can play God. Of the heavy price that a person might end up paying for that.”

Harper, still caught between the two, gaped at her sister, her mind reeling from the revelation. Is that what she really thought? That their father had been playing God all along? And if their father’s actions had truly been a misguided attempt to play God, then what did that make their efforts to uncover the truth? Were they chasing ghosts or trying to make sense of something that was fundamentally flawed?

“You think it was all just about playing God?” She took a step closer to Sierra, her back to Haven now, her eyes searching for some semblance of understanding in her own. “Why did you involve me in any of this, then?” The words were a plea, a cry for answers that Harper wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear.

Sierra flinched, her eyes narrowing as she apparently struggled to find a response for once. Harper watched her sister’s face, the flicker of uncertainty that crossed it. The silence stretched on, dense and oppressive, as Sierra opened her mouth but no words came out at first.

“Because I needed you,” the redhead finally said in a much lower tone than before, though Harper knew Haven could hear everything they were saying, regardless. She could see the flicker of something softer in her sister’s eyes, a glimpse of the person she used to know. Before death and her true nature rearing its head had separated them, turning their relationship into something different. Something less.

And now….

Harper turned around, hazel eyes looking into ones like her own. Like theirs.

This, what she knew, could completely break it.

Furrowed brows and frustrated eyes met Harper’s. Feathers stood tall over the peaks of her shoulders, her emotions evident in the barbs. The mention of that name, of God, had sent a shiver down her spine. Hazy memories had flooded her, of her time spent hearing that name, and of the time she spent hating that word after. It wasn’t something she wanted to keep in her thoughts for the rest of the evening either.

She didn’t know what the two women were discussing at all, but it was obvious that it affected them both deeply. That their connection to each other ran on a deeper level than just friendship. She wanted to know more about what they discussed; about why Sierra held so much hatred for her just because of the part of her that she cherished so much. What kind of relationship did they truly have? Why hadn’t Harper mentioned Sierra before?

There were too many questions, and too many secrets, and not enough time to discuss them.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed her anger down into her stomach. Feathers relaxed an inch as she took a measured breath. “We should get to Aurora’s soon.” She said to the brunette. Her eyes flitted to the dress draped over her arm. While she was still excited to be with Rory at the dance, she yearned to be beside him again for that familiar comfort and safety that she felt near him. This encounter had only left her frustrated with the cards she’d been dealt, and while she still adored who she was and remained prideful of her wings, she could still feel that weight of being different, of being a freak, a hypie, a sub-class, on her chest.

“I’ll wait inside while you see your friend off.” The word was emphasized solely for Sierra’s sake, though Haven worried that Harper would take the brunt of it where she stood between the intensity of their conversation as she brushed past the two. Her steps swift as she made her way into Harper’s room. Wings tucking in tightly so that they wouldn’t come near the redhead that despised them so.

Harper watched as Haven slipped into the room, her wings brushing against the doorway in a hurried retreat. Turning back to Sierra, who stood defensively as if bracing for the next blow, Harper took a tentative step closer. Without giving Sierra a chance to react, she wrapped her arms around her, the laptop between them a solid barrier that softened the intensity of the embrace. The fragile attempt at reconciliation was hesitant but clear.

“We’ll…talk later,” Harper murmured, her voice soft but resolute. It was a promise that the conversation they needed to have wouldn’t be avoided, that there was still space for understanding and maybe healing between them.

A beat passed before she responded.

“Sure,” Sierra said, a small frown crossing her lips before she turned and began to walk away. Some distance away, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Enjoy the dance,” she added before continuing on. The words were casual, almost dismissive, but Harper could sense the underlying emotion. She watched her sister’s retreating figure, the familiar form shrinking with each step until it was lost to the distance.

Harper took a deep breath as she reentered her room. The door closed softly behind her, muffling the distant sounds of the evening and creating a cocoon of quiet. She glanced at Haven, who was already inside, clearly waiting for her. Harper’s heart still pounded from the earlier confrontation, the adrenaline making her feel jittery, but she forced herself to focus. Clearing her throat, she offered a tight smile.

“Sierra… she’s practically family,” Harper began, her voice steady but tinged with an edge of defensiveness. “We’ve had our share of problems, but we’ve always looked out for each other.” Both a truth and a lie, because it was easier to tell a lie with a bit of the truth sprinkled in.

Haven tore her eyes away from the unlit string lights that lined the ceiling to meet Harper’s gaze only when she began speaking. Her hands hovered around her waist, a cap carefully clutched in one hand while the liquor bottle it belonged to in the other. Not a drop was missing from within, but it was clear that Haven had been about to partake in some pre-pre-gaming where she’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed. Her bag and dress rested beside her as a reminder why she’d come to Harper’s in the first place.

Her emotions were waging a war within her chest as she listened to Harper speak. Her eyes cast themselves downwards to her feet when the brunette had finished. She didn’t like Sierra one bit, and she couldn’t understand why Harper sounded so defensive as she tried to explain the odd friendship they shared. Haven knew perfectly well how easily a friend could become family. Her friends were the only family she’d ever had, really.

What Haven did understand was that Anabel would have never looked at Harper that way. Her old friend wouldn’t have allowed any prejudice to guide her actions. Even if she had become someone resentful and quick to judge during the years the two of them spent apart, Haven wouldn’t have allowed her to brazenly display those feelings.

It was painfully obvious that Harper and Sierra’s bond went farther back than she thought. Since it clearly overruled anything Harper may have shared with a teammate, Haven decided to let it pass by unquestioned.

Slowly, Haven held the liquor bottle out in Harper’s direction. The emotions in her eyes softened, becoming something troubled and yet relaxed. She just wanted to continue the night unbothered. “I think we both need a drink after that.”

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Strigidae Dormitory - PRCU}

Dance Monkey: #4.018 Passerine the Time

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_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: When the Day Met the Night Owl

Haven was grateful for an empty dorm as she stood in front of the shared bathroom mirror. Not only because she hadn’t had to see her roommates' concerned and frightened faces when she appeared in the dorm for the first time in two days, but also because she had the place to herself as she prepared for the senior dance later that evening. By the looks of it, she had a bit of work to do if she wanted to not only look her best, but also feel as best as she could after such a long week.

The effects of her stress were beginning to show in subtle ways. There were the traces of dark circles under her eyes, the kind that would most likely darken until she resembled a raccoon if she couldn’t overcome the nightmares that plagued her. There was the way her face already seemed to have lost some of the roundness to her cheeks. No doubt because she hadn’t been able to hold the contents of her stomach throughout the night. The effects of the trial still showed in the gaps between her plumage where pin feathers were just beginning to push their way out to replace what had been lost.

It was an effort to shift her wings. A wince reflecting in the mirror as she lifted her right wing to inspect the aglet-like obtrusion where her primary had been- pulled by Anabel -zapped by the hard light of the sabotaged game. She gently nudged it with a forefinger, finding it still a bit uncomfortable to the touch. As much as she yearned to release the downy feather hidden within, to see that gap replaced once more, she knew that it was too soon. It could be another few days, or another week, until they were ready to go. In the girls home picking at the pins had been similar to the other girl’s picking at their zits and pimples. It had been a hard habit to break on her own. Which had only made her more grateful to have Anabel by her side to keep her from stressing the baby feathers.

Her wing slumped behind her once more. She hadn’t had a chance to get to the school computers after she posted that message in a bottle. So much more pain had been inflicted since that it had been forgotten.

Haven turned the faucet to the sink abruptly and snatched her toothbrush from the bag nearby. She set to work on her teeth, brushing the insecurities and worries away with each stroke as she refocused on the task at hand. It had been too long since Haven had taken an everything shower. A funny term she’d picked up between the women on campus, that meant she’d not only be in the bathroom for an hour, but she’d take care of everything that might be included in one. Her basic products were already lined up and waiting to be used. Her razor sat halfway off of the shower’s shelf, prepared to remove any hair she wanted gone for the night. Shaving hadn’t even crossed her mind until her freshman year. She even had a bottle of baby shampoo ready to clean her feathers, in case she wanted to take that extra step. There were a few spots on her wings she’d gotten twice already the day before. The reminder made her pause in her routine. She slowly lowered her toothbrush from her mouth. A wave of nausea threatened to erase the toothpaste's job as she thought of how those feathers had gotten dirty to begin with.

Tanned fingers went white knuckled as they gripped the edge of the sink. Her back tensed as she prepared to bolt to the nearby toilet. She stared at herself in the mirror in frustration as she took slow breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, and just as she worried that the feeling might break her control, the nausea subsided. She gave herself a moment longer to breathe and recover, and then spat into the sink.

Forty minutes later, Haven emerged from the steamy bathroom feeling like a fresh flower in spring. The warm water and self-care had been almost therapeutic. The distraction of washing and shaving centered her. As she sat down on her bed to lather her smooth legs in lotion, her wings carefully laid out behind her to dry any remaining water droplets, she found herself looking forward to the night's event.

Not only was it a chance to let loose, to attempt to forget about her troubles, drink a little, dance a lot if she had it her way, and spend some time with the girls… but it was also her first date with her boyfriend. Rory’s new title had her heart fluttering within her chest, and she quickly squashed the urge to find him before she went to Aurora’s to get ready. Instead she shot him a quick text, something flirty that would make seeing him later all the more exciting, and vice versa.

They’d already sent each other multiple texts since she left him earlier that day. Their anxiety of parting from each other had been evident in the lingering touches and kisses they shared as they both dressed for the day. Both of them were reluctant to let the other go until the last moment, almost making her late to meet at the docks. Her texts had updated him that she was safe and sound with the girls throughout the trip, with one little sneak peak about the color dress she’d chosen. There had also been a text sent for the hoodie he let her borrow to hide her wings.

“successful entry, thanks for the girlfriend tax”

Dove

The subtle smell of him from the oversized sweatshirt had made it easier to be out of the comfort of his dorm for so long. She had to admit that being surrounded by her friends had also eased her mind enough to make it onto the ferry. Plus, with Amma sitting beside her, she knew that there was one person going to the mainland that truly understood why she seemed on edge.

The relief of seeing all of the girls gathered together again had made it easy for Haven to accept any hug sent her way. There had been one from Aurora when she first joined them, where she thought she’d seen tears welling up in sapphire eyes for a moment as the redhead’s texted apology had been denied, because there was nothing to apologize for anyways. Haven hadn’t mentioned her encounter with Lorcán for obvious reasons. It may have been eating at her as she sat beside Amma on the ferry to ask if the raven-haired woman had been to his dorm overnight, though she didn’t dare ask it with Aurora sitting nearby.

With Harper, Haven had whispered a thank you in her ear as they embraced. A thanks for not only helping the team find her in that dark place, but for keeping Rory sane throughout it. Which she was sure had been difficult to do when Harper herself might have been just as worried. There had been more to say to her about it of course, judging by the look they shared as she’d pulled away, but Haven figured it wasn’t the right moment to discuss it with the other groups of students waiting for the ferry nearby.

In a nice moment alone with the blonde in one of the shops, Haven had even checked in with Calliope. She wondered if the long-term couple had gotten a chance to talk, like Calli had mentioned in their walk to the quad. It was nice to hear that she and Banjo had been able to communicate, and also to know that such a long-term relationship could overcome their issues so easily. She refrained from asking for any first-time relationship advice, only because she wanted to enjoy their shopping trip without talking too much about the boys.

To have those moments with the girls, Haven thought the trip had been refreshing despite her uneasiness. The worst of it had been when they were walking between the shops, milling about between both students and the inhabitants of the mainland. There was that ever present feeling that something or someone was looming just behind her. Yet every glance over her shoulder or through her brown lashes proved that nothing was there. That the ghost that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand tall only haunted her in her mind.

The feeling gave her goosebumps even now as she finished moisturizing her arms. The many voices and footsteps within the dorm weren’t making it easy to be at peace. She stood from the bed and paced across the floor, shaking her hands out beside her as she tried to hold onto the excitement that made her so eager to get out of the dorm again. Her eyes moved to the bottle of booze that had been tossed onto the bed. It was tempting to start the celebration early, if only to let its liquid courage make her troubles melt away before they continued to ruin her good mood. She stopped by her bed, lifting the bottle from her sheets as she seriously considered taking a swig. She’d managed a decent lunch on the mainland, so it wouldn’t do any harm to take one little shot to go, right?

Haven placed the bottle back on the bed and turned away from it. She could wait until Aurora’s. Drinking alone wasn’t much fun anyways. Plus, she didn’t want to be plastered by the time she met up with Rory. Especially since her boyfriend didn’t drink himself.

Her towel dropped to the floor as she stopped in front of her closet, one foot gently nudging it towards her half-empty hamper nearby as she pulled out a comfortable brown tank top and sweat shorts to wear until she would change into her dress later. She tugged on a comfortable cardigan over the tank top for layering as she thought about what she’d need to bring to the Myotis dorm. The dress, the shoes… some makeup, maybe a hair tie or two. She had no idea what she was going to do with her hair, but she was sure one of the other girls could help her with that.

Haven moved over to her bag and packed it up, shoving the booze into the mix before she put her heels in last. She slid on a pair of slides as her eyes moved over the room. One final pass to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything until her eyes landed on the green number hanging over her mirror. The sight of it brought a small smile to her face. She couldn’t wait for Rory to see her in it, and she had to admit she was even more excited for him to take it off later.

Shouldering her get-ready bag, Haven unhooked the hanger of her dress from the mirror and carefully carried it to the door. She slipped into the common room, and then further into the hallways of the Strigidae dorm. Her steps carried her down the stairs, and then towards the familiar door to Harper’s dorm room. For the second time in a week, Haven found herself knocking on the wooden door, except this time it wasn’t nervous hesitation that made her pause but the sound of an unfamiliar voice behind it. She bit her lip as she tried her best not to eavesdrop, her eyes glancing down to the dress that hung over her arm as she checked to make sure it wasn’t dragging the ground.

It was hard not to wonder who could be in Harper’s room, yet as she heard steps approaching the door Haven figured there was no point in wondering now. She was about to find out, either way.

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Canis Dormitory - PRCU}

Dance Monkey: #4.015 When the Day Met the Night Owl

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

Previously: Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time & Wing Life Away

Silence filled the common room after Lorcán’s question, until the sound of a flush answered him from within the bathroom. Water could be heard running shortly after, going for quite a bit longer than just the washing of hands until it was cut off. The door handle turned slowly at first, until whomever held it decided against hesitation and moved it all the way. While he may have expected cascading raven hair to spill out of the opening doorway, the morning light coming in from the balcony windows illuminated tawny feathers and a messy ponytail of golden brown locks instead as Haven emerged.

“Amma hasn’t been-” her hoarse words were cut short as she lifted her eyes to him. They flared a moment, as if she’d seen something she shouldn’t have- she really shouldn’t have- before she turned her entire body to the side. One hand rose to block her face from sight as the feathers on the tops of her wings ruffled from shock, her other hand tightening its grip on the wet rag she held in it. “Lorcán, you’re hanging ten, or whatever it’s called.” Haven murmured as she cringed behind her hand.

“Sky Betty! What are y-” A surprised Lorcán exclaimed before stumbling backwards and catching a hip on a nearby end table. It was enough to throw the sleepy young man off balance as he fell backwards, landing on the floor with a dull smack followed quickly by a much smaller smack.

“I’ll get some pants,” He groaned. “That’s totally going to bruise.” Lorcán muttered before standing up and walking back into his room, throwing a pair of boardshorts and a Canis hoodie on quickly. A sweet aroma came from the hoodie, given Lorcán pause, taking a moment to breathe it in before returning to Haven.

“Sorry about that dudette,” The molten-eyed young man apologized, “I like don’t know what totally came over me, brah. I think I was having like some kind of dream or sleepwalking episode.” He explained before again looking at Haven.

“Wait, brah, you’re not Canis, you don’t live here.”

Haven slowly peeked out from behind her fingers, and when she was relieved to see clothes on the tanned man’s body, she allowed herself to turn back to face him. A small smile graced her features as she moved to perch on the armrest of the couch, resting her feet on the place where one would normally sit. “Rory and I made it official yesterday.” Her wings slumped behind her, her primaries grazing the floor. She rubbed at one of her tired eyes. “I heard you come in last night but I figured you were exhausted. I’m glad to know you’re back to your clumsy self.”

“Yeah,” Lorcán replied, looking back at the state of his room before pulling the door closed with his foot, “Uh totally back to normal.” He forced a smile, his bearings still reeling. He didn’t feel anywhere near close to normal. He didn’t like that Haven was currently in his dorm and he certainly didn’t like the implication this was going to be a regular occurrence. This dorm was for the Wolfpack, that wasn’t supposed to change.

“I actually think I’m going to head out to the beach, need to catch some swells and clear my head,” He replied, “Uh, congrats to you and the bro, you dudes are well paired, he could never do better.” Lorcán flashed an apologetic smile while turning to leave.

“I’d stick around and wait to catch up with both of you, I just don’t think my social battery is charged enough for that yet.”

Haven’s heart warmed as he congratulated her, yet it was obvious that neither she nor Lorcán were “totally” back to normal. She took a soft breath before speaking again. “That’s okay.” She began, offering an attempt at a smile. “I hope you know that we’re all really relieved you’re alright. We know you aren’t 100% yet, so take all the time you need.” She bit her lip once before continuing.

“Hey, uh… Amma wasn’t here last night. I only heard you come in. So…” She fiddled with the washcloth in her hand, unable to look him in the eyes as she tried to erase their encounter from her mind. Then there was the implication that he’d been thinking of Amma when he woke up instead of the girl who had sat by his side while he laid in the hospital. She didn’t want to get into that either. “I know that’s not my business anyways, but I thought I’d let you know.”

She pushed herself off of the couch, the effort only making her more tired, and began to walk back to Rory’s room with the hope that sleep would find her again. “I’ll see you around.”

The mention of Amma left Lorcán’s cheeks stinging. He knew Cass had told him that he said her name, but did Cass tell everyone? Or maybe it was Aurora, who he had hurt so deeply by speaking too fast. Lorcán’s hand balled into a fist, a wave of heat rising off of him before he looked down to see a crackle of red and silver. Immediately releasing his hand, he turned for the door.

He didn’t know what Amma had done to him, but he knew she had done something to him.

“She just won’t get out of my head,” Lorcán muttered a hushed plea for help while walking away from Haven, “I need her out.” He grit his teeth, the lack of sleep causing a dull ache in the front of his skull, his voice barely a whisper escaping from between his lips as he continued to talk to himself, coaxing himself out of the dorm and quickly away from Haven before Rory too was roused from his room.

“I can’t keep hurting Aurora, tell her I’m sorry,” The door to the shared dormitory slamming behind him as Lorcán departed.

Haven remained by Rory’s door with one hand resting on the handle, left in the wake of Lorcán’s small outburst. Her feathers had been ruffled again as she stared at the door to the hallway in a mix of discomfort and concern. She didn’t think she would hit a nerve when she told him that Amma hadn’t been over. He didn’t even give her a moment to ask if he was okay after, or ask why he thought he was hurting Aurora. The implications were there, but she was never one to get involved in other people’s love lives.

What unsettled her the most was the subtle display that came with the rush of heat in the room. Those familiar scarlet and silver arcs that danced around his balled fist. She wanted to believe that her tired mind had played a trick on her, because it wasn’t possible, right? Amma hadn’t been over so how could he use her ability like that?

A wave of paranoia crashed over her. If Amma really had been with Lorcán last night she hadn’t heard her come in. Which meant anyone could have come in through the door… or the window. She’d noticed how Rory kept it locked ever since they returned from the hospital. A sick feeling returned to her stomach as the nausea she’d grown so familiar with over the last few days threatened to send her back to the bathroom. She pressed the wet rag to her forehead, the coolness of it soothing her as she took intentional breaths to keep her heart from racing.

She looked back towards the door and wondered if she should have stopped Lorcán from leaving. He looked about as worse for wear as she felt, so he should be resting instead of throwing himself into the waves. Though if she were able to, she would have been out the door to pursue her own familiar comforts in the same way. She figured that to Lorcán, surfing was his way of getting out of his head. That maybe riding a wave felt just as weightless as catching an updraft and letting herself soar. Haven felt a pang of jealousy for his freedom in that. She wasn’t sure when she would feel that way again, so there was no point in keeping him from it.

Eager to return to the comfort of Rory’s arms, Haven turned her back to the front door. She slipped inside quietly and soon found herself nestled into Rory’s side again. Sleep didn’t claim her, no matter how much she wished it had. Instead she listened to Rory’s slumbering breaths and thought of the way a wave might feel under a board beneath her feet. How the ocean water might feel between her fingers instead of the denseness of a cloud. She hoped that Lorcán would find some peace in the waves as she found some comfort in the thought of them. Maybe it was time she asked for a lesson in it, too.

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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Infirmary - PRCU}

Dance Monkey #4.004: Rare Birds

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_{Interaction(s): Rory @Webboysurf, Amma @Rockette}

Previously: I Just Wanna Save You

The night had gone by slowly for the couple as they tried their best to recover from the events of the last day. Haven remained in a state of shock for most the night as her mind grappled with the complicated emotions that kept her from sleep. She sat crisscrossed in the bed they gave her. It was hard to get comfortable in a place so similar to her nightmares. The room reminded her of the trial, and thus reminded her of the fate she’d somehow escaped. The IV placed in her arm, meant to provide hydration, only made her discomfort worse. She found herself absentmindedly scratching at the bandage they’d taped over it too many times to count. It was a wonder that she hadn’t ripped it out of her arm yet.

Her wings had been dislocated from the sockets that sat in the center of her back, courtesy of the gurney and its impact with the concrete walls of the lab. The relaxants they’d given her to deal with the pain of repositioning the joints had also fortunately eased her terror of allowing anyone wearing a lab coat to get near the sensitive limbs, let alone touch them. She tried to think of it as a blessing that she hardly remembered the ordeal besides Rory’s concerned face as he held her hand beside her.

Yet as the relaxants wore off, Haven found herself caught between restlessness and exhaustion. She fidgeted with the strings of her jacket as she tried to stay awake. She’d refused to change out of her clothes, if only to remain in control of one thing on her body, and she’d also kept Rory from leaving to gather new ones. He’d offered the shirt he brought in his duffle bag but she also couldn’t bear to tear holes in it for her wings either. Her damp socks, of course, had been removed and swapped with a warm pair of grippies courtesy of the nurses.

When her exhaustion eventually claimed her, it was a fitful rest filled with what she had seen within the lab. Horrific images of the students whose fate had been worse than her own. Their bodies marred by Daedalus’s artful display of cruelty. She awoke nauseous only to find relief in a nearby trash bin. She didn’t return to sleep afterwards. Instead, she watched Rory nod off once more after he woke to her movements. His gentle breathing soothed her from his place on the couch he’d pulled up beside the bed.

By the time the morning crew came to check in, Haven came close to begging for a break from the white walls of the room. Their sympathy was written clearly on their face as they allowed her to take her morning in the courtyard, but only after she’d had her breakfast and a protein shake to double her nutrition intake. It hadn’t taken her long to eat. She found herself starving after going a day without food. The breakfast smelling and tasting better than it ever had before.

The morning light of the infirmary’s courtyard soon greeted Haven and Rory as they stepped out of the sliding glass doors together. The warmth warmed Haven’s skin and feathers, the color of the garden at the yard’s center providing instant relief from the white halls within the building. Haven released a breath in a relieved sigh, before she turned her head to her tall companion to watch as he picked up the IV pole that was near empty beside them. She offered him a grateful, yet tired smile before the pair made their way onto the grass.

She moved to sit in the sun, close by the tree that took up the center of the courtyard. She skipped the bench for obvious reasons, but mostly to allow her wings to soak up the rays that had just begun to fill the square space in between the buildings.

Rory carefully set up Haven’s IV drip, making sure to avoid any tangles and securing the legs to avoid it toppling. His hands still faintly shook, which caused him to clench them into fists to steady them again. When he was confident it was secure, he lowered himself down into the grass. He had changed while Haven had slept, slipping into an old t-shirt and shorts he had hurriedly packed for Haven the day before. He wished he had remembered to grab one of her shirts from the laundry. Now, though, he just sat awkwardly quiet in the grass. His nervous eyes remained fixed on Haven, as if she was going to disappear at any second. But any thoughts he had remained to himself, stirring around in his mind like a whirlwind.

Haven took to removing the infirmary’s slippers first, and then the socks. She dug her feet into the grass unashamedly. The feeling of its cool strands between her toes set her at ease, the connection to the earth providing solace. She stretched her wings out beside her, and when the pressure in the middle of her back prevented her from pushing them further, she allowed them to slump into the grass as well. Her head tilted back to catch the sun on her face as her eyes closed. The warm and cold mixture of the green below and the sun above made her feel like she was in her own personal spa.

“You should try it,” Haven murmured before she looked at Rory. Her toes wiggled in the grass. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the look in his eyes. Among the grief she felt for the missing students there was a special place for Rory. A piece of her that yearned to settle the anxiousness that made his hands shake each time he used them. He’d always been thoughtful, and maybe a bit socially anxious, but she’d never seen him so unsettled as this. Her eyes softened as her hand reached for him. “I’m here, Rory. Be here with me.”

Rory nodded shakily, seeming to snap awake from a daydream. He scooted a little closer, removing his own waterlogged sneakers and socks before lying down in the grass next to Haven. He laid on his side, grasping her hand with one of his as he took a couple breaths. He had a million things coursing through his mind, a hundred questions he wanted to ask, and dozens of answers he needed. He knew what she was trying to do. ”I’m here… trying to be, I guess.” Failing was a more accurate word, but she didn’t need to be worrying about him. ”How are your wings? Better than last night?”

Haven pressed her lips together for a moment as she tried to simplify the state of her wings into a few words. She could let all of her emotions pour out of her, uncap the well of grief and fear and anger that lingered in her chest, and break down here in the courtyard. She chose to save that for later, when she’d sorted out the good emotions and the bad, and when she would be able to control the words that came out of her mouth. “They’re still sore… and I’m not sure how long it will be until I can fly again.” A muscle in her neck ticked as the statement seemed to crush her heart. Her eyes fell to where their fingers intertwined. “But they feel better already. I can rest them while I spend time with you.” Her eyes returned to his blues. Her heart felt lighter when she looked at him, as if none of it really mattered if she had him by her side. He held the entire sky in his gaze and she thought she could get lost in it without moving a feather.

“I’m… lucky to have you, Rory. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The last person she had expected to see, much less the pair of them, was Haven with Rory as a literal shadow that fretted over her condition with a keen eye that only one of affectionate embellishments could maintain. They are the representative of serenity that flitted by on the dregs of pain and heartache, the completion of one, of unity, glimmering in the intimacy that surrounded them in the lamplight of what Amma could assume was one thing: love.

A curious thing, a thing of dejected blue eyes and quivering lips as she recalled, a thing of smiling praise and delicate touches; a line of insanity and hopeless wonder to the means of the heart undone that was drawn unto the earth before her. A shadow of the unknown that fell away to the beast that recognized the bonding of her spirit now conceding to her blossoming humanity of feeling something yonder the chasm of endless fury and depravity she harbors.

She doesn’t like it. It frustrates her beyond measure, it compounds the decision she has made and the freedom slowly spooling away from her grasp every day the sun rises and falls. She wishes she could take it back, she wishes she could return to a night of flame wherein she had lashed out against hopes and dreams and could-be’s, she wishes sometimes and wonders aloud the what-ifs that fell to the intricacies of fate and destiny therein that still chained her to shadow and ruin.

Her hands won’t stop shaking now, not since she had seen him, and she can’t figure out why.

Amma watches them for only a few seconds longer, the warmth of the sun bidden to her rather subdued impression, hair braided over her shoulder donned in a blue-gray blouse, shadows marked unto the hallows of her striking stare and exhaustion wreathed through her eyes lost in a muted shade of blue. She wants to know, she has to ask. She’s afraid of the answers.

But.

“Haven,” she mutters, approaching them both with a soft gait, intentional and with purpose, arms crossed as she studies them, lashes panned down low on her gaze that slid over Haven first, from wing to foot, and then to Rory, the last conversation they had pulled to the forefront of her mind. “Rory…” she rejoins, lips drawn down, brows lowered.

“How-” Amma finally relinquished her gaze, opting instead to glance towards the dog wood tree she had claimed of late as her area of rest and contemplation. “I would ask: how are you doing.” She confessess, shoulders drawn up tight. “But, I already know.”

Haven heard the soft steps of the woman with two names before she heard her own name uttered. The tone suggested a familiarity that Haven had not heard before. She looked between Rory’s eyes, feeling like there was more to say between them, but unable to do it in front of an audience she turned her head to greet a darker shade of blue. Eyes that seemed to look into her soul and not just at her recovering condition.

As if Amma had been in this state of mind before, but to a more horrific degree of anguish.

Amma’s words were almost lost to Haven. Her mind was occupied by another’s voice. His frightening tone, the possessive words he spoke, and his enraged expression echoed in her mind and rattled her present comfort. Her hand tightened around Rory’s as she grounded herself with his touch. Her toes curled in the grass. She blinked as she registered what had been said at present. Amma could understand her now. Maybe she could help sort out the emotions that Haven couldn’t understand. Her grip softened, swallowing against the lump that had formed in her throat, and she simply gave Amma a nod.

“It was hard to sleep last night.” She murmured, glancing Rory’s way. “Rory kept me company, thankfully.”

He gave Haven’s hand a slight squeeze at her words, shooting Amma a sharp glance. But even that softened, as he remembered what she had done the day before. He looked between the two women for a moment, before silently slipping a hand out of Haven’s grasp so he could rise to his feet. He brushed the dirt and grass off his butt, muttering, ”I’ll… be over there if you need me.” He nodded to one of the benches on the other side of the courtyard, and meandered his way over. He gave Amma a wide berth, unconsciously scratching at the faint lines on his arms.

Haven was confused at first, but soon offered a nod of understanding. Her eyes followed him as he walked away. Drawn to the way he scratched at the remains of the trial’s harm, she reminded herself of how she felt when she first saw them. How she had wondered if certain arcs of silver and scarlet had been the cause. She still didn’t know how to comprehend that her saviour had been his aggressor on the same day. Especially now that she and Amma were more alike than they had ever been before.

She turned her gaze toward the woman in question, her eyes ablaze with the embers of anger briefly before they were doused by the understanding that Amma was no creature of malice. When Amma revealed her past in the trial, Haven had imagined masked figures standing over her youthful form as they inflicted their methods upon her. Yet now… all she saw was the grin of a monster looming over her. A terrifying sight contrasting the soothing motions of his hand as it caressed her face. Haven now knew how it felt to be at the hands of someone without mercy. She felt the fear and anger settled deep within her chest and worried how easily it could consume her. A feeling she thought Amma carried with her with each step, ready to lash out at anyone who might inflict pain once more. She couldn’t imagine Rory dealing the first blow, but she wondered if the trial’s tricks had played him right into Amma’s hand at her worst moment.

“Sit with me.” Her tone was soft, devoid of any demand or force behind it. She hoped that since Amma approached there would be no cold shoulder given to her empathy again. Maybe Amma had just as many questions as Haven did, and that would be her reason to stay.

Witnessing the two of them together, in such synchronzation, in such harmony, it bade Amma’s gaze to soften, just so, a barely there shimmer of silver within a sea of writhing blue- calmed before the storm looming before her, on the words unspoken betwixt them that would bloom to the surface as soon as the inquiries were lain bare. She knew it, as did Haven, from the way her eyes of greens and browns banked deep with an inner sanctum of fury at the hopelessness of cruelty that saw her taken from the arms of the man she cared for.

Was this too a form of love that Aurora so proudly championed? Emotions fitted so carefully to their delicate touches and words, from the softness of Rory’s voice and the breadth of his glare that too yielded to her presence on mute understanding and acceptance. She held her breath all the more, refusing to break her glance, noting those faint scars and did not balk at the sudden swathe of guilt that churned through her breast.

Damn them all for this wretched heart pumping away yonder bone and blood; the void of self stricken anew with the coming dawn.

Her brow lowered, lashes too that fluttered on the coolness of her words before she deigned to sit with her, the grass cool whilst the sun ran over her pale figure, legs adorned in black stretched out before her before tucked and crossed, her weight positioned forward, hands upon the seat of her lap and clutched, the insist tremble lanced through her scarred palms that fought to conceal. A weakness she’d rather not spare, not when she was uncertain of its peculiar cause. For that, Amma is silent, head canted to one side and plait slid over her shoulder as she regarded Haven with near detachment, until she breathed in deep and finally said:

“I’m sure you have questions. Or rather, answers now to things you should’ve never known.”

Haven seemed to mirror Amma’s movements as she adjusted her legs to accommodate her new companion, crisscrossing them while her back remained straight so that she wouldn’t have to shift her sore wings behind her. A heaviness returned to her chest with Amma’s words, her shoulders slumping forwards ever so subtly. Her eyes turned to the grass before her, where her feet had made an indent in the green. The stalks were already beginning to pop back into their upright place. Soon there wouldn’t be a trace of her left there. She pulled at a strand of grass beside her. It plucked out of the ground easily, leaving her to play with it between her fingers as she mulled over her next words carefully. She didn’t dare bring anything forth that might upset them both when Amma had just sat down. She had something she needed to say before they went into the deep waters of their anguish.

“I… need to thank you again. You really helped the team last night.” She glanced into those deep blue eyes, somehow finding it difficult to withstand that piercing gaze. Still, she pushed through her inhibitions, and made sure each emotion that drove her next words out of her lips was clearly shown in the forest lain within her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” her voice wavered, but she recovered its strength quickly, “that no one was there to save you from him.”

If she’d been more inclined, Haven would have reached for Amma’s hand. Yet she had too many questions overwhelming her thoughts. She worried that they would all come spilling out of her at once if she crossed through that cautious space between them. She wanted to respect Amma’s past, especially when the matter concerned something so terrifying. She needed to choose her words carefully this time because it was nothing like the trial, and she certainly didn’t feel as brave as she had been before.

Amma is quiet, if only for a moment, her eyes locked onto Haven’s, refusing to budge as she simply said: “I don’t… Remember. Most of it.” She’s not even sure who he is, the name spoken to her before that she could not place and the following ache in her head that left her without the effort and want to try and decipher why.

“Maybe that’s for the best, but sometimes I-” She pauses, finally releasing her gaze and looking heavenward, where the sun bathes them both in darling rays of light. “I see and feel them. I remember the dark most of all. I remember every. Single. Injection.” Her nails spear through her palms there, clenched tight into trembling fists.

“I don’t remember how I got out. But I did. And so did you.” Amma’s eyes carefully find Rory in the distance, every gesture attuned to Haven in such a way that for the first time she feels…

“We both made promises. I told him I would make sure he was able to fulfill his. Nothing more.”

Her tanned hand clenched the grass between her knuckles once again as Amma offered more moments of heartache. The muscles in her back tensed, and she winced at the discomfort at the center. The discomfort of knowing nothing about what might have been done in that lab before her team found her. Her wings remained, so that had to be a reason to believe that he’d been interrupted before he could harm her, right?

She watched the tremors in Amma’s fist and remembered how her own had shaken that way. Both women shared the crescent moon shapes on their palms now. Haven’s would heal, thankfully, but Amma was less fortunate. She’d been fighting for control for so long now.

We got out. Haven thought as her eyes were drawn to Amma’s expression. She noticed where the haunted eyes were looking. There was no doubt Rory watched the pair with an anxious gaze. Her heart felt heavier with Amma’s words, as she realized that Rory must have mentioned his promise to Amma. It ached as she thought of how worried he must have been. How his hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he first unbuckled one of those straps. Tears began to prick at the edges of her vision, but she closed her eyes until the feeling subsided. She plucked another piece of grass from beside her and pressed it between her thumb and pointer. Her next words came unfiltered and raw.

“There was a moment that I believed Daedalus. He said that he wasn’t going to let me go. I’m scared that he’ll come back.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell Rory this, even though she knew that she should. He’d never let her out of his sight again. Her breath hitched as she felt panic creeping up her spine, but she soothed it with a small breath. Amma needed to know too-

“He was furious that they saved you from him. You’re the only one who’s ever escaped him, until now.” Her eyes were pained as she looked at Amma again, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before it also spilled from her lips. “I want to know… Did he take anything from you?”

She tries, she really does, but Amma cannot contain the sputtering of red that descends with the utterance of that name. It begins as scarlet fragments bidden through her fists that slowly churn up her arms, every muscle strained and tensed and bunched beneath her inked skin as her gaze immediately snaps towards Haven aglow with tremors that wreck through her body.

“They took everything from me.” Feathering edges of black bloom with the harsh admission, her voice clipped and raw, dragged through hell and back as she struggles to contain herself, to maintain control despite what yearns to be unleashed.

“They’ll never let you go, even now. I dream, I see, and I feel it every single night. The only time I didn’t…” Amma pauses, contemplating the confession of her dreamless sleep, the quiet comforts given from the unexpected peace she had found in the ward. “The only thing I know is that I will get it all back. One day.”

“I have to.”

The hairs on Haven’s arms and neck stood tall with the intensity of Amma’s awakened vengeance. She didn’t feel fear, or the usual instinctive urge to defend or flee. Her jaw clenched as she tried to sort through the range of emotions that surged through her, but the soreness left by the gag had her relaxing it, her hand bitterly reaching up to rub at the joint beneath her cheekbone. She looked away from the glowing eyes as she realized that her fear of what happened to her outweighed her anger. As if she was disappointing Amma for allowing her resolve to become so thin. She felt shame for it, and that shame turned into grief, which then became a quiet fury for her lost courage. Her brows furrowed as she felt all of it at once, her mind a storm that shook the trees that stood at her core. Each moment from the day before striking her like lightning, and the many conflicting words spoken to her echoing like thunder.

Rory had watched carefully from his bench on the other side of the courtyard. He didn’t have a clue what they were saying, merely watching Haven’s fingers pluck at grass. Until the flash of red. His heart leapt in his throat as his body reacted on instinct, bolting to his feet and taking a massive bound forward, before immediately slowing himself to a softer, slower pace. His fists shook, knuckles white as he grasped for some semblance of control and understanding. His body remained tense, ready to sprint at a moment’s notice if needed.

A frustrated sigh escaped Haven, and she released the piece of grass in her other hand to bring both palms to her face. She ran them up her cheeks and temples, and pushed them up into her hair as she tried to release her stress with the soothing motion.

“I can’t get ahold of myself.” She muttered, admitting her frustrations. Her hands fell into her lap, where they wrung themselves together. The errant hairs around her face slid back into place by her cheeks. “I feel your rage, and your need for vengeance. I’ve always felt angry, ever since I was taken from my mother.”

“But now I feel so much more. I’m shaken.”

Her anger surged again as she remembered the piece of information that Daedalus had given her. She looked into Amma’s eyes, a glimmer of doubt in her expression before she spoke. “Someone told him about me. This “she” sold me out. I want to know who it was, so that I can make sure she doesn’t send any more of us his way. I won’t forget the students he had with him. I don’t want to forget their faces, and I don’t want more of us to suffer like that.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be? Torres? Another member of the Foundation?”

“I don’t know, Haven.” The words uttered are not easy, the manic tendrils of her powers wreathed through the plaited strands of her hair before looping around her throat, her own frustrations bleeding outward into silver edged coils of manifest in the realization she simply couldn’t remember.

“There are figments, memories maybe, things I see when I dream. Things I see even now.” Her trembling hands were held before her, scarred palms up, the mutilated lines of heart and fate and reason sheered through over and over, every link of scars on her fingers bidden to shake, and the scar on her chest, it burns in memorium, as if a warning for venturing so deep.

“I do not know if you would call that cruelty, or kindness. Or perhaps misplaced justice for all the things I have done.” Amma’s powers surge and boil, the world trembling at her disturbances once more, waves of crimson spilling over her quivering palms as if leagues of blood undone.

“For all that I have yet to do. This role I play.”

“What could you have possibly done to deserve the role you say you have?” Haven asked in quiet frustration. She regarded Amma carefully, as if these questions would break the dam to a tortured soul. “Is your role to avenge your stolen life? To avenge the lives that he has taken?”

“Are you ever going to be free of it?”

“No.” A fissure within splinters far and wide, a chasm of the unknown that spindles forth wisps of black that waver onto the abyss of her sudden emotions. Laden with fear and anger that gutters out the blue of her eyes into a void of nihilism.

“I killed them. But it wasn’t my fault.” Her breath hitches, her lashes peel wide before manic coils of scarlet whisk themselves across the grass at their feet, blades sundered unto nothing as if they never existed, dirt and roots spun away into nothing but ashen remains.

“They made me do it - I -” Amma’s body lurches forward, arms coiled around her middle, a tremor worked through her entire body as the world at her terrible domination shudders and screams, a halo of destruction surrounding her as she struggles to breathe. “Mend, instead of sunder.” She pleads, her knees drawn up to her chest where she winds her arms tight, reigning herself to the reality under the sun above.

“You really ask too many questions.” There is laughter there, though small and forlorn, but falling from her lips none the less in dejected intontations.

Haven’s eyes widened a fraction with Amma’s sudden confession. Her instincts recognized the anguish that left a line of ashen grass stalks between them. An almost animalistic need to strike whatever may have caused such pain. Yet as Amma broke in front of her, desperate to catch her breath, Haven felt her heart constrict. Her hand lifted from her lap, reaching towards Amma to place it on her shoulder. Upon reaching the outer edges of the lines of protection she felt the arcs nip at her fingers like a warning. She drew her hand back as she understood it and empathized with it. Perhaps Amma didn't like to be touched either.

The half-hearted joke then caught Haven off guard. A repetition from the trial, and yet its delivery this time seemed to break the tension in Haven’s muscles. A moment passed, and suddenly she was laughing too. A near-hysterical, sorrowful laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. The kind that brought little tears to her eyes. Small beads of amusement and heartache.

“I really do.” She agreed as the heaviness in her chest lightened. She may not have gotten the answers she wanted, as usual, but she now knew that there was someone near her that understood the turmoil within better than she ever could.

“Sorry, Amma.”

It starts small, nothing more than a flex in her jaw, a softness to her features that edges into something delicate and perhaps saddened, but suddenly Amma smiles too. A truly lighted simper that blooms across her face at the laughter that fills the tense air betwixt them that was filled to the brim with understanding; a shared pain and fear; one edged in darkness and sorrow with touches of laden fury. Her power still warped and fizzled through her usual sphere of influence, but Amma did her best to contain those tendrils of crimson from reaching out to Haven, her wings familiar to their grace as the world quieted and stilled- for just a moment.

“Sometimes it gets easier. Most of the time it doesn’t, you won’t ever feel safe, maybe not for a while. But if we find them, I promise I’ll destroy them too.”

A small tear escaped down Haven’s cheek as her laughter subsided. The motions brought a soreness to her back and jaw, but the moment she shared was worth the pain. The tear was wiped away with the back of her hand, soon lost to the lush and decayed grass between them. A small sniffle accompanied the nod she gave as she acknowledged Amma’s words. They sunk into her chest, and eased the hopelessness that had made its nest within it.

“Thanks. I’ll have your back for that too.” A small dimple formed where one side of her lips turned upwards. A touch of amusement in her eyes as she also repeated a phrase spoken in the trial.

“As I told you then, Haven, I don’t need anyone.” But where malice might’ve reigned, a sort of sadness eclipsed her words, weighted through her sudden whispers as she contemplated the truth of their conversation and the consideration she held for returning to The Foundation. Would they try to stop her? Would Haven, or Katja? Lorcán, maybe? Would Gil? She wonders then, would they care.

And above all else, why did she?

Amma quiets for a moment, gazing off into the distance before she slowly rises up to her full height, mindful of Haven near her and the deadend grass at her feet. She regarded Rory carefully, gesturing off handedly before she offered Haven another smile, not quite as delicate, but there as a slight lift of her lips before she said:

“It helps to not be alone. He is incredibly protective of you.”

She leaves the two of them in the gardens, admiring the comfort selflessly given, the ease in which they fitted as a singular construct of both heart and home. Loneliness did not bedevil her existence, but Amma cannot help but wonder if there was actually something she was missing in her life.

And if she even deserved it, for everything she had done. For everything she had yet to do.

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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: ?? - ??}

Take on Me: #3.064 Wet Feathers

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_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Two in the Bush

The harsh prick of a needle sent a fresh wave of terror through Haven as she realized that her time had run out. Her muscles locked up, eyes flinging open wide in one last bleary look at the man who would undo her. The mercifully cold liquid traveled through her quickly. It calmed her racing heart, relaxed her tense body, and she felt her breath finally return to her. Any traces of fear, grief, or anger slipped from her grasp as she felt her eyelids grow heavy. She thought of Rory’s blue eyes. How they reminded her of an open sky on a cloudless day. It brought her peace until the sedative rendered her unconscious.

…

A cold sensation lapped hungrily at her feathers. The sound of groaning metal and rushing water reached her ears while her mind fought against the growing feeling that something was wrong. She wondered if she was waking up in the middle of the procedure. If the warmth being sapped from her wings and back was what it felt like to lose a limb.

Lights flashed against the dark of her eyelids. She heard the crackling of electricity nearby. Her body twitched uncomfortably beneath the leather straps that still held her down. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to witness the gore of her body being torn asunder. There was no pain. There was no fear. She was still under the sedatives influence, and now she hoped it would last a little longer. She wanted to remain numb until the monster had finished the job. Or at least until he killed her trying.

Against her wishes, her world was undone as she felt gravity tilt on its axis. The groaning noise overwhelmed the room as the gurney beneath her shook. It felt like she’d performed a backwards loop in flight and was caught in the middle. She remained stuck in the free fall, her eyes squeezing shut against the nauseating sensation. Her body tensed as she prepared for the crash that would inevitably follow, and it found her quickly.

Her cry of shock was muted by the gag that her teeth found purchase in as the table beneath her shuddered. Her body jerked backwards but the restraints held fast. The joints where her wings met her back felt like they’d been jolted free of the sockets. She felt her cold feathers bunching beneath leather. The twisted grimace on her face soon vanished as a thought struck her. She could feel her body again. She could feel her wings.

Green and gold eyes finally opened as a wave of shock and relief coursed through her veins. The dark room that greeted her was nothing like the lab that she had last seen. She scanned the fissured and dripping wet ceiling above her, her eyes following a particularly large crack down the wall that loomed overhead. She hastily looked to her right, eager to confirm that what she could feel was real.

Her eyes looked over the wet feathers of her wings and the sight of them brought tears to her eyes.

She didn’t know why… or how… or what fresh hell she was in now…

All that mattered to her in that moment was that she hadn’t been undone.

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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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