[center][IMG]http://i.imgur.com/QWuwBAI.png[/IMG] [url=http://youtu.be/A36CEDNe53s]*[/url][/center] ---- If there was one advantage to being small like her, it was the ability to hide. Magdalena had found a particular notch for herself on that cannon that served the purposes of a minuscule haven away from the puttering noise of the engine and everything betwixt from the muddled baritones and husky-bell cadences of her... [i]Friends.[/i] She has now been given reason to speculate on that word and its meaning. In the reality that was her past it only conveyed that she had met them upon chance and had felt obligated and bound because a particular person had died, to this day she can’t really say his name or even dare think of it. She isn’t entirely sure why it chokes her verbally and subconsciously, maybe because he was the first person to dare reach out to her? Submerging his hand into the dark and to bring her affront in a world of colour and beauty that she hadn’t known about, or maybe she was afraid to acknowledge it? But what does an eight year old child know other than their family and the foundation of love that it’s supposed to be built upon, that sort of comfort and solace that blooms wide and far in hearts that are just starting to know what it means to hate and to feel pain. What happens to the small human thing that has only known anguish and maladies that sing such obscure sorrows in their soul. She knows that once upon a time she did know what it meant to be apart of something good and what it was that so many children yearned for and could find peace within. It just didn’t last very long. She supposed that she could blame the world around them, it just seemed to thrive on delivering trials and tribulations and she wonders about the Kami and if they too seem to find sustenance in their suffering. It’s a little fucked up, but what life isn’t? Magdalena can only see the teal tarpaulin but beyond it, in her mind, there’s a scenery of white and black and red where shadows dance and it’s beautiful to witness in her solitude. Their illustrations are ones of faces she can’t really remember anymore and of eyes that are the wrong colour -- they’re kind of alien really, an esoteric familiarity that isn’t really there. She thanks them though, for their effort, but she can’t remember what her family looks like anymore no matter how hard she tries. But despite that, for this single moment, she isn’t raging in on herself and there isn’t a botch of pain festering in her heart, it’s a morbid sense of tranquility bidden under bloody knuckles and gruesome smiles. Psychotic tortures from someone who really isn’t alive, or so she thinks, but she can’t really trust her mind now can she? Magdalena’s eyes begin to wander as she shifts her body to pull her legs against her chest and this time she looks out at the water and the bow bobbing upon the choppy waves, how long have they been on this vessel now? She vaguely wonders what everyone is doing below deck but she can’t bring herself to really care about those details no matter their significance. To her, she would rather talk about what exactly they’ll be facing upon their arrival, but who wants to talk about the future? Everyone would just rather be a prisoner to their past. Instead of standing up, breaching the subject, and voicing her concerns [she wants to call them points and facts, but she doesn’t know] she simply pulls out her phone that had surprisingly survived the entire deluge in Doral and all the fighting and whatever that was. She doesn’t want to think about it. There are no new messages, only the public board that Olivia had tacked to about her purchases, well at least someone had been thinking, but so much for that. She doesn’t think Doral would be all too pleased to see her just yet so there’s no point in turning around for supplies, not that they would. But what she’s really looking for is that woman’s name to come flashing across with green and red - answer or deny. She wants the pleasure of ignoring her just like what she does to her daughter, to inflict a silent cruelty of: this is what you’ve done to me. If her mother had been more supportive, would she had made a difference anyways? Magdalena doesn’t think so. [i]I’m not going to call you.[/i] [center] [b]Do you ever think that maybe she is scared too?[/b] [i]No.[/i] [b]Then maybe you should ask, after all, she lost her husband and her sons.[/b] [i] But I was still there.[/i] [b]But you didn’t stay.[/b] [i]No.[/i] [b]Why?[/b] [i]I was tired of being alone.[/i] [b]You were never alone.[/b] [i] Wasn’t I?[/i] [b]Only because you preferred it that way.[/b] [i] I didn’t ask for any of this.[/i] [b]But you didn’t deny any of it either.[/b] [i]Well I can’t take it back now.[/i] [b]Can’t you?[/b][/center] She doesn’t know if maybe it’s her spirits, or maybe her own delusions, but an eight year old boy is perched on the cannon with her. His eyes are red, like rubies and they pulse in a rhythm she can’t seem to pin-point, it’s irregular, not really a heart beat but she doesn’t know what else to compare it to. He’s entirely sodded in black and grey and only the differences in shades give him any sort of definition. But she can’t really say it’s a ‘He’ either. ‘It’ seems much more appropriate. [center][i] What are you?[/i] [b]You know what I am.[/b] [i]A hallucination.[/i] [b]Maybe.[/b][/center] She doesn’t like the way It answers, they aren’t really justifications to her inquiries, but if It really is a trick of her subconscious, then It will only know what she knows. [center][i] This is confusing.[/i] [b]So don’t think.[/b] [i] Getting harder not to do that lately, all I can do is think.[/i] [b]What about?[/b] [i]Things.[/i][/center] She doesn’t like the way It’s looking at her, though there are no pupils to dictate where It’s staring and there’s no expression upon the visage constantly wreathed in darkness, there’s a sliver of pure black that she can assume as It’s mouth but it stays in a constant uplifted curve. [center][i]You’re smiling.[/i] [b]I think so.[/b] [i]What are You?[/i] [b]I think you should be asking Who.[/b] [i]I don’t want to know.[/i] [b]Maggie -[/b][/center] “No, you don’t get to call me that. You’re dead. Dead people don’t get to call other people by their names.” [center][b]Then what would you have me call you?[/b] [i]Nothing.[/i] [b]Sounds negative.[/b][/center] She can almost hear the tone of his voice soft and innocent with that curb of confidence as only a child can have and this is the last memory she ever had of him, the young eight-year old boy that pulled her from her darkness. Magdalena, for a moment, feels hatred. [center][b]You rather I had just left you alone?[/b] [i]Yes.[/i] [b]But then you wouldn’t be here.[/b] [i]That’s the point.[/i] [b]Would you rather be dead?[/b] [i]I don’t know.[/i][/center] There’s a pause between the two and she can’t bring herself to break it. The creaking of the squall and the splash of the water is all they have. “What is it like?” She speaks aloud, no one here will answer, but the It in her head hears it loud and clear. [center][b]What is what like?[/b] [i]To die.[/i] [b]I don’t remember.[/b] [i]I see.[/i][/center] Magdalena wonders if this is a ghost or spirit, an angel or demon if such things existed. She’s read about them in fiction and she’s pretty sure there’s something out there of their equivalence, but who really understands the Kami and the Eternal Etro. Could such things be? But anything now is possible, after all they’re all vessels of spirits of forces beyond human comprehension. Strengths and powers, wielding fire and lightning, light and earth, to see and hear things that no one else can. They’re havens for things that are dead and had no where else to go. Her shadow is curled within her lap and she gently strokes her fingers through it, if it could speak, what would it say? [center][b]You’re not alone.[/b] [i]You’ve already said that.[/i] [b]I’m only speaking of what’s already in your head.[/b] [i]So I’m talking to myself.[/i] [b]Perhaps.[/b][/center] That bothers her, especially when It laughs and the breath It excludes is tinged red and black and swirls in the air in a collage of colours, the air is white - they’re back at the alabaster plain in her mind. [center][i]You’re bothering me, go away.[/i] [b]You can’t keep pushing things away.[/b] [i]Yes I can.[/i] [b]Why?[/b] [i]Because I don’t want to deal with it.[/i] [b]That’s the thing about pushing everything back to be dealt with another time. It comes back ten times worse, all at once, when you least expect it and it knocks the wind out of you, drops you to the ground all dead weight with no capability of standing back up.[/b] [i]I’ll deal with that when it happens.[/i] [b]I don’t believe you.[/b][/center] Now she’s getting angry, Magdalena can feel her hounds prowling around, awakened once again by this spectral delusion but It doesn’t seem to mind as they swirl around and prance across the silvery field. They snap at It but don’t come any closer. “Why are you here? Olivia and Jyn, the others, go bother them, I’m sure they’d be happy.” [center][b]This isn’t their mind, Maggie.[/b][/center] “I told you not to call me that!” [center][b]I’m sorry.[/b][/center] “No you’re not, you’re not real. You’re dead. So stay that way and get out of my head!” [center][b]You don’t mean that.[/b] [i]You don’t know me, don’t act like you do.[/i] [b]Is that what this is? To have someone know you and understand you.[/b] [i]What -[/i] [b]Because isn’t what we all want? For someone to understand, do you think you’re really the only one? [/b][/center] It lifts a shadowy arm and points and she doesn’t know why but instead of fingers there are claws in replacement. Suddenly it’s not an eight year old boy, but a man, a man that could have been but never will be. He’s tall, but then everyone is taller than her, instead of rubies staring at her there are sapphires and they’re burning and the slick ebony of his mouth is twisted. [center][b]Everyone else is hurting, in pain, just like you. But you’re so selfish and warped into your own fears that you can’t see it. You don’t want to, you want to wallow in it, you want to live to your shadows. Isn’t it just like he said, Kimberly -[/b][/center] That name makes her flinch. [center][b]What like Julian -[/b][/center] “GO AWAY!” Magdalena is screaming in her head and there is a howling pitch that rises and rises until it’s all she can hear. Her fingers clutch at her head continuously and she can feel the dried blood on the follicles and it hurts, but there isn’t anything she can do but endure, there’s no unsuspecting people to unleash this upon and she can’t face Kimberly anymore. Not after that. [center][b]I’m sorry, Maggie.[/b][/center] “Just leave me alone.” It’s a whisper, barely audible by human means. And It does just that. ---- ┊»ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｅａｌｉｔｙ ｏｆ ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅｓ● [center]They're standing in the dark but she isn’t afraid, in fact, she’s at home and feels safe. But it’s a false sense of security here, it doesn’t take long for the claustrophobia to settle within as hands enclose against her face, they scorch her cheeks and her temples and she’s suddenly fearful of what she can’t see. Her lips part. But she can’t speak, no words come and suddenly there are lips upon hers. Crushing, bruising, forcing heat upon her that spirals down from the point of contact, she tastes nothing but blood on death on his tongue. Tiny fists beat against his chest, but it only serves to fuel these carnal feelings, emotions and wants that are not her own. He’s forcing them on her and when his teeth scrape against her lip and that soft whimper chokes out, he pulls back carefully and laughs straight in her face. She runs.[/center] ---- ┊» ｔｈｅ ｂｏａｔ● [indent]She doesn't know how long she's been there, holding her head, feeling the crusted remains in her hair and the bruises that throb continuously on her skin. But time has long since been avoiding her, especially as they toll and arrive to their mark, to this war that really isn't their own, but they're just obligated to do so. So when she finally stands her limbs are aching and sore without being stretched and it takes a minute for her to gain balance against the creaking of this dismal looking barge. Magdalena sighs quietly and is relived to see that It is gone, just like she had bidden It to do, part of her feels a pang of worry and misplaced sadness but underneath she can't help but feel that It was just herself attacking what Kimberly had already exposed. She kind of hates him for that. In fact she kind of hates herself for letting it happen, she allowed him to dig deep inside her heart where she keeps things locked away and he shoved it all back without remorse, he used a voice that wasn't his and a taunting he wasn't supposed to do, and now she's imagining tiny figures and this time they actually talk. Or so she thinks it's talking. Magdalena isn't sure what is what right now. She knows that retreating below deck is the obvious option after what she just saw, but she can't bring herself to move, nothing more than a shuffling step to where the rail is all splintered and in dire need of a paint job. It flecks beneath her nails, she can't tell what the original colour was, but it's something to distract her, to push at time until she can bring herself to just waltz on by as she usually would do; she wants to sleep, but in that need, she's afraid to dream. So for now she has to be content with the dark waves as they break across them, she hates the spray that rises up against her apathetic glamour, but it's better than shadows and smiles and ruby eyes and flashing accusations. It's better than facing It again. Aaron stared at the rusty door that Olivia had just walked through lost in a storm of confusion and emotion. What had she meant by [i]'I know'[/i], everything about the encounter had pointed towards the understanding that she had shared the same feelings as he did but her exit made it seem as if she had almost regretted the scenario. Once again feeling like his heart had fallen to the soles of his shoes, Aaron once again leaned against the wall that he started against, Aaron pulled out another cigarette and lit it, using the long inhale to attempt to process what little he could understand. As he pondered the tender moment he noticed something that he didn't before, it almost felt like Liv was picturing something else within in the depths of her own mind. A sickening and disheartening thought suddenly overtook his already tulmtous mind, it wasn't Aaron she was thinking about...it was Sam. Of course, it was always Sam. Aaron had always been a bit jealous of Sam and Olivia's relationship but always kept his distance out of respect to his friends. Unable to hold his breath any longer Aaron let out a long steady stream of smoke, and with it apparently, all of his hopes and dreams to ever have a real meaningful relationship with Olivia. [i]'No...what I felt was real, and certainly she felt something.'[/i] Even Aaron didn't believe his blind hope, but he figured that if he kept at it there might be something worth perusing there. It takes a mental push, a rather hard one at that, and a lot of convincing for Magdalena to drift away from the rail and to go below deck. She remembers passing by the entrance decked in rust when she first boarded on, what she doesn't remember is exactly where. The petite woman takes the opportune quest to push her hair back and down, smoothing away what she can and scratching at the dried crimson that makes her skin prick in unease. She feels disgusted, cloaked in filth and smog that had permeated the air in Doral and wonders, vaguely, if jumping in the ocean for a simple dip is entirely out of the question. Though her line of thought processing is interrupted along with the thud of her boots when she witnesses the perfect illustration of dejected heart ache. Everything feels like forever ago, a progression of years and time that hasn’t happened in the waking circumstances, but in her mind, things are not so withstanding. She recalls the battle and Magdalena tips her head curiously to the side and she reflects on what It said. [i]You're not the only one.[/i] But how does she say it? How does one even begin to speak about it. She doesn't know that kind of pain, heart break [if a heart truly does break, doesn’t someone usually die?], it's unfamiliar to her but he just looks oh so sad and it kind of makes her smile, in the manic way that she does. Her shadow is alive with it, swollen with darkness and slinks across the threshold and the deck and further reaches up along the railing as she approaches. "Hey," she says quietly, her voice not quite reaching her usual timbre, but slightly scratchy and burning from all the screaming she has done lately. Who knew that leaving the Academy and the shell that it was would be her catalyst. The quiet and timid sounding voice brought Aaron's attention to his left, surprised to see Maggie standing there. He wasn't sure what to say since they had never really had anything to talk about prior to leaving the Academy. [b]"Hey Maggie, what's up?"[/b] Aaron could tell that something was bothering her, she was usually not this sheepish sounding but something was obviously bothering her. [b]"Is everything alright, you seem a bit off?"[/b] Although he wasn't as concerned as he was when Olivia walked out, Aaron moved his cigarette and his smoke exhale where it would avoid flying directly into the girls face. It was an innocent enough inquiry, endearing really that he should feel obligated to ponder on such a state of her mental affairs. Magdalena though won't answer, she merely shrugs her shoulder, the one still bruised now thrice with Julian and Kimberly's grip respectively having marred the usual pallor of her skin. "I could say the same about you." Her blue eyes cut through her lashes, lingering upon the nicotine stick dangling in his grasp, the smoke doesn't bother her though she could never understand that habit of his or anyone else who took upon the addiction. The pale smog billowing around them in white though is much more curious, it reminds her of certain things. "Since the fight, you've been off and naturally so, but now." Magdalena has a peculiar way of observation, each tick of her stare is excruciatingly slow before she manages to fall upon his face though never once does she bother to look at his eyes. "You just look really really sad." Aaron let out an audible sigh, sad couldn't begin to cover what he was really feeling. Ever since the incident on the road Aaron had been kicking himself about his lack of skill to help his friends that it had caused him unimaginable grief, on top of the fact of Liv had given him some sort of weird vibe from his earlier encounter his life had become some sort of weird soap opera. [b]"Yeah, you could say that. I'm alright though you don't need to worry about me."[/b] Aaron placed a gentle hand on the top of Maggie's head flashing a gentle smile at those huge blue eyes. Magdalena doesn't know what it means to worry about someone, she has never been giving reason for it before, but looking at him she wonders if this is what everyone does. She has had Olivia ask her numerous times how she was doing and then she had Kimberly who just knew and she herself who naturally sought him out. Her lips are gaped to speak, but only a soft breath is drawn in to her throat and she flinches. She's not used to gentle, physical invasions and too soon does it remind her of earlier and suddenly the bite on her neck burns. Her skin flares up alive in defense and her blue eyes immediately sharpen and she grits her teeth into a primal grimace. "Don't touch me," she grabs his wrist, fingers like teeth that lock around his limb and she pushes herself back from him, her spine hard against the wood of the splintered rail. Now she can't stand anyone to touch her where as before she craved it, it's brilliant really, in a twisted sort of way after what she had just endured in Doral, after what she had seen earlier upon the bow of the ship. Magdalena stares down at her hands and for some unknown reason they're shaking, she doesn't know why, and it frightens her all the same when she slams her palms against the wood. Her grip tightens gradually, slivers impale white-hot into her skin and the pain, though small, is enough to temper the fire and heat boiling underneath and inside. "Don't touch me," she murmurs again to herself, her shadows coiling tight and rearing high, as if to submerge her within their inky cores and hide her way from everything. "I'm sorry, Aaron, but - " She sighs to herself, it's pathetic. "You should just go." Aaron was caught off guard by her reaction, watching the shadows rear back as if they were ready to wrap themselves around Maggie and hide her somewhere. If Aaron didn't know if there was something bothering her before...he knew it now. From sheepish to stern he once again reached towards her hoping to calm her down and see if he could help her, [b]"Maggie, wait! I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Please stay with me a minute I could really use the company."[/b] he said with pale eyes almost begging her to stay. His hand reached out and held hers in a desperate need to hold on to something in his current state of mind. [b]"Please Maggie..."[/b] Later on, she'll speculate on this moment and the touch of his hand on hers and how desperate he seems, and then she'll decide that it's the please that does it for her. Magdalena's eyes widen in panic, it's like he doesn't know, doesn't he know what is inside her? With everything going on and has happened, and yet still he touches her. She can only think about Kimberly's harsh words and grasp, those are imprinted on her permanently and It that spoke to her before. The things It said, but then they were things she had already known, right? Everyone else is in pain too. Magdalena doesn't push away from him this time, she doesn't know if she can run away from his plea for her to stay, she doesn't know how and she isn't like her mother who never reached out for her like this. She doesn't think anyone else has, it's strange and different and just a little terrifying. But for a moment, she wonders if it really is her he's asking to stay with him. "Okay," for she doesn't have the will or the heart [if she has one] to deny him. "I'll stay with you, if only for a little bit." Magdalena doesn't know what she can offer him, she knows where his heart lies, and never has been put in such a situation like this before. With Kim it had been different, he was the one that had forced her, had bitten her, told her all she had to do was reach out. For some odd reason, he’s absorbing her thoughts, and she doesn’t like that. Aaron makes it look so easy and she envies him for it. A heavy sigh of relief escaped his throat as he fell back against the wall once again placing the cigarette into his lips and taking in another long drag only to release it slowly. To be honest he didn't know what he really wanted to say to her or what he wanted out of the interaction...all he knew he wanted was to spend a few minutes in the company of someone that made sense to him, someone that could help muddle through what he was thinking and feeling at the moment. [b]"Thanks...I’ve had a rough day and it's nice to have someone to talk to. You and I never really get to talk...its kind of nice actually. What's on your mind...most people don't freak out like that unless somethings happened to them. Wanna talk about it?"[/b] If she was honest with herself, no, no she didn't want to talk about it, but Magdalena was hardly every honest and directed at herself, most of everything was a lie. However she doesn't have the strength to fib and gloss over everything, it takes too much energy to pretend and her shoulders literally droop with the effort of it all. Never has she felt so tired. "I got into a fight," she begins slowly, her voice rough but near it's usual bell grace, once upon a time she was told that she sounded like the tolls of a funeral march, the somber kind that were light and without reflection other than a lingering sadness. "In Doral, I nearly killed three men and Kim stopped me." She won't explain how, the bruises on her face and her busted lip attest to that but there are wounds that linger and fester deeper within, she doubts Aaron can see those. For safety measure she brushes her short hair down further to try and conceal the mark on her neck. "And now I'm seeing things, I won't say it's him, you know who. But It talked to me." She turns on her heel and leans back against the wall with him, her eyes are cast up but not seeing anything, she can only see the blood and the darkness and her shadow is calm despite these visions, she isn't sure what to make of that. "There's a lot really, and no I won't talk about all of it even if we don't speak often. There are just some things that cannot be said." She draws the line there, unable to open completely and still holding onto a small fragment of her usual self of emotionless indifference. [b]"That's alright...you don't have to tell me everything. You only need to tell me what's going to make you feel at ease."[/b] Aaron turned in her direction and flashed another smile, deep down he knew there must be a plethora of things that has been pent up that she has yet to let go of. He could tell that behind her calm and almost doll like exterior was a wall of things that she was trying to keep in, for now though he decided that he wouldn't push too hard and let her tell him in her own time. [b]"What happened in Doral? I can see the bruises and the cut lip but I think that the story behind them would be more interesting to hear."[/b] He brushed the blonde strands away from her face so he could see a greater view of her face and the blemishes that marred it. In his own mind he had to admit that she was extremely beautiful, even with the marks placed upon it but the pain behind those giant azure eyes held years of pain that had yet to be pushed through. Aaron wondered what she could have possibly gone through that she didn't tell the rest of the gang. Strangely enough a smile danced across his face, he wasn't sure why but for some reason he actually enjoyed spending time with Maggie. "Not as interesting as you think," she admitted softly and closed her eyes for a brief moment. She reflects on the events, each just as confusing before when they occurred, each harsh and raw and burning and it takes her breath away just as he touches her. Again, it's easy for him it seems and Magdalena wonders how people do it, it seems so unnatural and yet it was, she didn't how she had managed to touch Kimberly earlier and that moment seems so far away the second the blonde comes away from her face. Her eyes flash open with dark, churning blue and her body immediately tenses up. "I - don't do that." She whispered softly. Magdalena doesn't know what a smile like that means but it's natural across his visage and it isn't forced. Her lips sort of quirk, a mimicking grin that is a mere imitation of his own, but, she's trying and that's all she can do. She turns her face towards him and levels her stare upon his brow, she can't bring herself to look him in eyes, she can't do that for anyone, but for now it's better than nothing - isn't it? "I got attacked by a bear," she flashes her fingers quick and simple, gesturing towards herself. "Obviously: me and Kim had a fight." Magdalena keeps it light and simple, she doesn't want to say what really happened, she isn't entirely sure herself. But don't friends tell each other things like that? Don't they open up? Magdalena considers him a friend, without a doubt, but looking up at him like this and how earnest he is in wanting to know what happened. She can't help but think it's nice, in a way, despite what usually wars away inside her and what usually burns her heart and soul. Maybe she's just too tired and her guard is down, that has to be it, there isn't any other explanation for it other than that. Her eyes drop down for a moment, their weighted by her weary soul that is constantly fighting, never resting, and she's scared of this particular scenario, it makes her vulnerable. Too vulnerable and it's just too soon for that again. "But really, I'm just tired. I've been tired for a long, long time. Can't tell you the last time I actually slept." She doesn't want to talk about Doral, it's still too fresh in her mind and on her body. Aaron kept his eyes focused on hers, he could tell that he had reached yet another wall that she did not want to go through. The fight in Doral must have really spooked her, especially if it left marks like that on her. Aaron could tell when he might be pushing too much, so he figured that he might save the rest of this conversation for another day. With a light chuckle and yet another slight smile he wrapped his arm around Maggie's shoulder and spoke softly, [b]"Hey...you don't have to say anything if your not ready to. Hey lets head into the mess hall and see what concoction Remi has cooked up...it'll be better than noting on this hell of a boat ride."[/b] She's kind of relieved, and a little disappointed when he doesn't pry or broach the subject even further, but then maybe it's because the people that pry information from her use cruel means to do so. She's not used to genuine emotions, there's no pain or agony, no torturous malady that wreaks her soul apart, and her shadow is lax and calm around them. It's such a queer transition to what she had been feeling ever since they embarked from Oak Ridge, it isn't peace, but a slow winding weariness that is plaguing her and mutely she nods and consents to his suggestion. The arm looped around her shoulder is warm, burning really, but then she doesn't push him away, not like before, Magdalena isn't welcoming it though, this isn't like the weight of someone else that had embraced her before, in the rain, but it's something else that is kind. It's a friend bringing her in closer. "I'm a little wary about it, if he's going to cook, but, you're right, it's better than moping about out here." She smiles simply and this time, it is her own.[/indent]