[center][h3][color=cyan]γ€Žπ•Šπ•’π•Ÿπ••π•–π•£γ€[/color] [color=8493ca]γ€Žβ„‚π•™π•£π•šπ•€π•₯π•žπ•’π•€γ€[/color][/h3][/center] [center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][img]http://i63.tinypic.com/2h84geb.jpg[/img][/center] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center] [hr][center][color=silver]ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ ℙ𝕠𝕀π•₯ / / [@RedDusk][@January][/color][/center][hr][hr][center][color=silver]π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / π”»π• π•£π•ž π”Ήπ•¦π•šπ•π••π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝔸: π•Šπ•¦π•šπ•₯𝕖 πŸ›πŸ™πŸŸ / / πŸ˜πŸœπŸ™πŸ›/~πŸ˜πŸŸπŸ›πŸ˜[/color][/center][hr] It was a dream. Christmas knew the unreality of it immediately despite the dense, waist-high grass and heavy stormclouds stretching across an endless, monochrome plain of muted yellow. The smell of rain clung to the air and a strong wind rattled the tall, rusty swing he sat on, bare feet dangling over the spears of grass bobbing rapidly in the breeze. Simple, iron beams specked brown and red with corrosion cut a rigid image of the swing set in otherwise uninterrupted grassland. His hands still gripped the creaking, cracking chains, afraid to let go in the face of the looming tempest. Beside him, an empty swing seat swayed wildly in the harsh drafts of air. The storm was too much. Too far beyond him in his plain white T-shirt and gray shorts. And it was silly, but he didn't want to stand on his bare feet, afraid the grass and dirt would swallow him up before the storm could. His left hand clutched the chain of the seat harder, fearing the compulsion to let go. As if in response, one of the fractured links near his white-knuckled grip crumbled to pieces, the scraps of tarnished metal floating upwards and away. One end of the seat swung downward and Christmas tumbled to the ground, landing on his side in the shuddering waves of yellowed grass battered down by the violent air. The rough texture of dry leaves suffocated him--pressed down on him, their lengths falling across his body. It was almost like drowning. He snapped awake in much the same position, heaving breaths and the pounding of blood in his ears vivid and shocking enough to denote this as reality. Several steps of awkward stumbling took him to the phone on his desk, and a shaking finger turned on the lock screen to check the time. 0421. His roommates had, thankfully, not been disturbed by his sudden awakening and Christmas braced his unbandaged hand against the edge of his desk, breathing as quietly as possible in the aftermath of the dream. It felt like he had lost something--though whether that something was good or bad, he couldn't be sure. A soft, faint sense of exhilaration danced in the farthest reaches of his thoughts as his mind automatically, almost without his consent, focused on a small ripple of difference in his power. Confusion only lasted the barest moment before he [i]just knew[/i] what that difference was. That was almost as frightening as not knowing. Several long minutes of trying to focus on anything--anything at all--passed before Christmas tiptoed carefully back to his bed and settled in under the sheets. Another hour and he finally managed to doze off. The prolonged sound of running water stirred him sometime later and Christmas took far too long to comprehend that it was now morning and that he still very much remembered what he had seen earlier in his dream. Hoping to forget about it had only cemented it in his memories. Both Sander's and Kusari's beds were empty and he blearily wondered if they were both showering together. The bathroom was occupied and sleep still clung to him, heavy across his eyes and shoulders. He took that in stride, glad to soak in the haziness of waking up for a few moments longer before the silence of waiting bothered him enough to justify sliding out of bed and grabbing his Vita from the desk. Bare feet and the chilly morning quickly propelled him back, however, and he curled up in an upright bundle with the sheets, cozily tapping away on the console's buttons with his good hand while his mind fled far elsewhere. [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center] [hr][center][color=silver]π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / π”»π• π•£π•ž π”Ήπ•¦π•šπ•π••π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝔸: π•Šπ•¦π•šπ•₯𝕖 πŸ›πŸ™πŸŸ / / ~πŸ˜πŸŸπŸ›πŸ˜[/color][/center][hr] It happened again. Sander found himself kneeling in the water once more, an insignificant speck of dust in the face of the great beyond. More of that vast ocean dripped into him, and he welcomed it, revelled in that brief moment of strength. It felt almost like power. Almost like hope. Until he woke up. Sander blinked blearily, watching the faint morning light streaming in from the window. It felt far too early to get out of bed, but he sat up regardless. For the first time since that battle, he didn’t wake up shivering in cold sweat, so there was no point in wasting a perfectly good day in bed. He would save that for his worse days. With that in mind, Sander pushed the cover aside and headed straight for the shower. As lukewarm water caressed his back, Sander stared at his hands, his mind faraway. The Change happened again. He knew it. He felt it. And he was sure they had ways of finding out as well. He knew the Change before, but it had never happened this rapidly. It shouldn’t. He was not sure how to feel about this. Parts of him were scared; he didn’t want the monster to become stronger. Yet, what if the Change strengthened his control? He remembered hope. He remembered power. [i]Back then, the prospect of control felt almost real.[/i] There was only one way of knowing. But he didn’t dare to think about it. He couldn’t. He would fail, like all those times before. Just because he thought he could be someone else. Because he dared to want. Dared to hope. [i]His fault. All his. They died, and he did nothing.[/i] He blinked, watching his white-knuckled fists slowly uncurled as he took in deep breaths. No, he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to shatter any parts of his arms, and he most certainly didn’t want to break anything in the shower. There was no point in making his roommates even more miserable. He would go the Ground Zero later. Soon. But it was disappointing. He was usually better than this when it came to his Stigma. After his morning ritual, Sander exited the bathroom, a white towel draped over his shoulders as he headed back to his desk. Glancing in Christmas’ direction, he noticed that the boy had already awoken, and was currently playing on his Vita again. It was a few moments, before Sander realized he was staring, so he turned back to his desk, searching for anything to busy himself with. There was a spare requisition form at the corner of his desk, but hesitation still pulled at his mind, so it wasn’t long before he turned back to his roommate. β€œ[color=cyan]Have you ever seen the ocean?[/color]”- He said suddenly, the question seemingly came out of nowhere. Christmas blinked once at the question, pulling his mind rapidly from the depths of his daydreams as he struggled to both form a reply and process the query all at once. The answer came out as a muddled [color=8493ca]"Huh--yes?"[/color] As usual, questions and direct interactions caught him off guard. He was used to not having a presence to the extent that people could nearly step on him before they'd notice he was there. At the very least, that lined up roughly with what he [i]consciously[/i] preferred. β€œ[color=cyan]No. Um, not that ocean.[/color]”- Sander looked vaguely surprised, then frowned slightly once he realized how stupid his question was β€“β€œ[color=cyan]I mean, the ocean... space thing. In your dreams. Have you ever seen it?[/color]” He stared at Sander, the mention of "dream" bringing back the visage of that endless, sun-parched plain blanketed in storm clouds. For a long moment, he sat still, eyes fixed on Sander's face without truly looking. [color=8493ca]"...I don't know if..."[/color] his eyes slipped down to the ground again as he furrowed his brow in confusion, [color=8493ca]"...What do you mean?"[/color] β€œ[color=cyan]I mean…we see things. [i]I[/i] see things when… the change happens, and…[/color]”- Sander let out a frustrated sigh β€“β€œ[color=cyan]You know what, never mind. I’m just not making any sense here, am I?[/color]” β€œ[color=cyan]Anyway, how was your sleep?[/color]”- His eyes caught sight of the bandaged hand first, before the question popped into his mind β€“β€œ[color=cyan]Your hand is better?[/color]” Christmas nodded, eyes still searching the ground for the answer to Sander's previous question. He could still see that landscape so clearly. It only took a glance in his mind's eye for the full image to return, clear and distinct. [color=8493ca]"Sander?"[/color] he called out the name quietly, roving eyes locking on to a meaningless point on the Berber-esque carpet. β€œ[color=cyan]Yeah?[/color]” [color=8493ca]"Would you...would you tell me what you saw?"[/color] β€œ[color=cyan]Um…[/color]”- Sander floundered, searching his vocabulary. Despite his tendency to mince words, he had never been very good with them. That much hadn’t changed over the years β€“β€œ[color=cyan]I saw an ocean. At least, I think it was an ocean. It was…vast. Went on forever. And it…uh…dripped. Then it was all over.[/color]” [i]It bled power into his veins and hope in his heart and for a moment he thought he could take on the world.[/i] And he would have. But Christmas didn’t need to know that. More silence spanned the gaps in conversation. Without noticing, Christmas picked at the edge of the bandage on his right hand. [color=8493ca]"I saw a field,"[/color] he whispered into the folds of the blanket wrapped around him, retreating into the cloth as he spoke. β€œ[color=cyan]Then you have seen the Change, haven’t you?[/color]”- Sander watched his roommates, but his eyes were far from focused β€“β€œ[color=cyan]But it happened too fast. Not normal.[/color]”- The last part, he mumbled to himself, frowning. Silence fell between them once more, before Sander decided to speak up, uncertainty laced his voice β€“β€œ[color=cyan]Do you think I can control, eventually?[/color]” β€œ[color=cyan]They both think I could.[/color]” [color=8493ca]"T-they? Control...what?"[/color] β€œ[color=cyan]My…power.[/color]” It suddenly made a lot more sense to Christmas why Sander had stabbed himself the other night. And it dawned on him that Sander...had already controlled it, right? [color=8493ca]"...Didn't you already?"[/color] he voiced his thoughts, surprising himself in the process. β€œ[color=cyan]I…appease it. Never control it.[/color]”- Sander drew in a breath of fresh air, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat β€“β€œ[color=cyan]She thinks I could. She thinks I should try.[/color]” β€œ[color=cyan]Should I?[/color]” Christmas wondered about the "she" Sander kept referencing, but he thought it better not to ask. If Sander hadn't brought it up repeatedly, he might have missed it altogether in the flurry of thoughts the conversation was evoking. Beyond that, it felt too personal to ask about Sander's life--his circle of people included. He breathed in the fading scent of generic detergent from his blanket, a simple answer coming to mind. [color=8493ca]"If--"[/color] a pause to gather his words, left hand balling the blanket to give his mind some kind of focus [color=8493ca]"--I were you, I...I would be too afraid to try. And I think you're--I think you're stronger than that."[/color] [i]Than me.[/i] Sander let out a light chuckle at his roommate’s words, no humor in his laugh. He kept his head down, once again racking fingers through his hair, the movement uncharacteristically frantic. Before he could persuade himself to clam up and slip the mask back on, Sander stood up and walked over to Christmas’ bed. Lowering himself until he could look the blond boy straight in the eyes, Sander reached out for the healer’s injured hand and caught a loose piece of bandage between his fingers. Barely a moment later, he seemed to have thought better of it, and let go. β€œ[color=cyan]…You offered. Twice.[/color]”- Sander’s tone was suddenly sombre-β€œ[color=cyan]I think that’s already very brave.[/color]” The smaller boy looked away, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Automatic disagreement. He didn't venture an explanation, however. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a breath, ashamed of himself--nothing new--as he pulled his knees even closer to his chest on a reflex. [color=8493ca]"I'd offer again."[/color] [i]For all the wrong reasons.[/i] Christmas sighed to the air on his right, echoing his statement from the previous night. He couldn't bring himself to meet Sander's eyes. β€œ[color=cyan]Even when it’s not safe?[/color]”- A frown creased Sander’s brow β€“β€œ[color=cyan]Why? You don’t have to do this. I’m…no one to you.[/color]” The healer looked down at his right hand, swaddled awkwardly in bandages and made even worse by his fidgeting. Several layers of his amateurish dressing had loosened through the night, no doubt because he shifted often in his sleep to the rhythm of uneasy thoughts and uneasier dreams. [color=8493ca]"Then I guess...I'm no one to me, too,"[/color] he answered, hiding a blank smile behind a crease of the blanket around his shoulders. [color=8493ca]"Do you know my power, Sander?"[/color] he asked suddenly, voice muffled in the linen sheet. Sander’s eyes caught the dishevelled bandages once again, and this time, he could no longer ignore it. He reached out once again with a tentative β€˜May I’, and once the blond boy gave him the go ahead, he unwrapped most of the bandage and tried his best to re-aligned the strands of open-weave cotton. As he worked, he paused briefly at Christmas’ strange question. β€œ[color=cyan]Yes?[/color]” [color=8493ca]"...Then don't you already know 'why'?"[/color] β€œ[color=cyan]Someone once told me[/color]”- Sander suddenly seemed very interested in Christmas’ hand, eyes glued onto the stained bandage β€“β€œ[color=cyan]that this power is just a part of us. It doesn’t have to be all we are.[/color]” β€œ[color=cyan]It doesn’t have to be all you are.[/color]” Whether Sander believed his own words or not, he didn't know. Christmas lifted his right hand, the unraveled gauze trailing from it in uneven loops and lengths. Underneath, along the width of his palm and nearly dead center, was the wound he had made for himself. It was still raw and red, barely scabbing over. [color=8493ca]"If this--"[/color] he tapped his left index finger against the corner of the injury [color=8493ca]"--was all I am, I'd still take it."[/color] β€œ[color=cyan]Is that really what you want?[/color]”- Sander lifted his head to catch Christmas’ eyes, the weight of the question hung heavy on his tongue. The blond boy shook his head in response, but he offered no voice to the honest "no." The corners of his lips trembled as he repeated, [color=8493ca]"I'd still take it."[/color] Sander’ jaws twitched as his eyes hardened, whatever mask he let slipped before had clamped shut again. β€œ[color=cyan]I see.[/color]”- He let out the faintest sigh, then slowly straightened, pulling himself to his full height. Whatever topic they were delving into, the blond boy obviously didn’t feel very comfortable, so he decided to drop it. It hit far too close to home, anyhow. β€œ[color=cyan]It is what it is, then.[/color]”- With that said, Sander slowly walked back to his desk, where he reached for a sheet of paper and began writing something down. Oh, Christmas remembered that look. Something like disappointment and resignation all rolled into one. Nothing changed around him. [i]Because he never changed.[/i] He looked back to his right hand, where Sander had left the wrapping unfinished. It was true. Nothing changed around him even when everything was supposed to. Not bothering with the gauze at the moment, his left hand reached for the Vita to resume progressing through another visual novel whose story he would only glean in part before losing himself to any train of thought that happened to branch from there. Before long, he was adrift in another daydream, diverting his mind from everything he'd rather not think about until he had to. As the silence returned to their shared suite, Sander found it easier to focus on wording his request to the Director, and he did so gladly, eager to get his mind away from the recent conversation. His decision was still unclear, but he figured a bit of preparation couldn’t hurt. Really, after all that happened, he knew what his blond roommate would do should last night happened again. Still, a selfish part of him wanted to just [i]try[/i]. He caught a glimmer of hope, and he found that he couldn’t let go. Maybe it could get better. Maybe, if he could just try hard enough. [i]Golden hair stained red and dead eyes looked at him, bloody hand extended. His fault. He thought it could get better. He thought wrong. This was a mistake. One he had made. One he refused to learn from.[/i] Sander heaved out a quiet breath, loosening his grip on the pen. Its point had broken right off, leaving large ink stains and a puncture mark where the point broke through paper to embedded itself into the wooden desk. He needed a new form. However, before Sander could leave his dorm and headed over to the registrar’s office, guards poured in from the front door. At this point, Sander had become far too used to look at guns from the wrong ends. Funny how things had changed. Funny how they had not. Without a word, he followed them, but not before sparing the blond boy a glance. Christmas was pulling on yesterday's socks and shoes, obediently following the guards after an initial bout of surprise. He held the drooping lines of bandages in his left hand, tucking them around his right hand and fingers as quickly as he could while moving. It wasn't that he didn't care about his injury, but more that he didn't think it would matter even if something did happen to the cut on his palm. His power, after all, necessitated wounds like these. Even more so now, after the dream of endless fields and endless storms.