[h3][center][color=BD892F]Sophia Lemane[/color][/center][/h3][color=silver][right]Wisford, Maryland
September 14th, 2020 - 5:55 pm[/right][/color]Even after that terrible moment when Sav's neck snapped, they continued moving. Fighting. 

Marcus. A brown haired girl with shadowy dark creatures. An aquamarine haired girl. Siena. From somewhere, another person was shooting bullets. It was only she who could not move, because someone had just died. Savannah. Someone whom Sophia had never had the chance to get to know better. And as weak as it might be, she could not ignore it.

From the back of her mind came scrambled bits and pieces of memories. A table, an occupied chair. Four people, when it should have been five. Tears, lots of them. But none from her. She stood there by that table, not quite old enough to understand what was wrong, but old enough to feel the weight of the situation. [i]"He's not coming,"[/i] her mother had said.

There was another part she remembered. A small bundle wrapped in blue. A gaping dark hole. Stepping outside into the hot sun to watch smoke rise from a chimney as her hand was held tightly. More tears, still none from her.  

But this time, her eyes welled with tears.

It was the gargoyle's fault. It was the fault of that aquamarine girl. It was the fault of the brown haired girl, because maybe if she and her shadowy creatures would have been first, the gargoyle would have been dealt with in a better way. It was Marcus's fault, for... for not realizing that there was an intruder in the APC. It was Lawrence's fault for the same reason, for not paying enough attention. 

It was... it was... the fault of all her teammates on the battlefield for not realizing that there were rouge subnaturals attacking Evac sooner. For coming to help too late. It was the fault of all the people who had not yet arrived to help. It was Savannah's fault for not managing to save herself.  It was-- why did it matter whose fault it was? Sav was dead and there was no changing that-- her fault.

Because she hadn't done anything, or even tried. Because she was powerless. 

What was it her sister had often called her? Ah, yes.

Hopeless. That was it. She was that too.
[hr]The walls of the APC dissolved, and she found herself in a place unknown. Her fear, sadness, despair, and all those other negative motions faded, pushed to the back of her mind along with thoughts of the fight going on and Savannah's death. This place, what was it? How did she get here?

A vast ocean spread out before her, so vast she could not see where it ended. Was she floating above it? It seemed so. Below her lay the ocean, and she had eyes only for it and nothing else. Beneath the surface where the water gently rippled, she could feel that there was... [i]something[/i]. She didn't understand what exactly this ocean was, but it seemed to hold... potential? A potential for something good, perhaps.

It seemed so strong and sure of itself, beckoning and inviting her to come and take a closer look into its depths. She couldn't. Though she could move her arms and legs, she could not make them walk her down to the surface of that ocean. She wanted to know more about it so badly, why couldn't she see? Maybe she was too in awe to move. 

Or too scared to find out and discover that the ocean wasn't as majestic and wonderful as she thought, perhaps.

Because she could not go to the ocean, it came to her. Just a little drop, but it came. Rising up towards her, it nestled in her outstretched hand before sinking through and into her. And it made her feel a little better. A little stronger, a little more whole. That drop belonged with her, as if it had been carefully shaped to fit her-- and her power.
[hr]The APC reappeared around her and the reality of what was happening hit her full force once more. The tranquility of that ocean was gone. In the few seconds that it took her to reorient herself, a gun shot rang out and not long after, they were moving. Grabbing onto the nearest seat and lowering herself into it as the truck lurched forward, she stared out of the open back door of the APC and witnessed what had to be the death of another person as the APC pulled away.

She didn't have it in her to do anything else but watch as the people fighting became smaller and smaller. Part of her felt that she should be there, helping or something. Not running away. But she was no use, she would just be in the way. Whatever that scene with the ocean had done or meant to do, the differences she had felt in that place-- both in mood and in strength-- now seemed to have disappeared.

Actually, something [i]had[/i] changed. But she was too distraught to notice that tiny sliver of a difference.

As the APC kept moving away, she stopped looking behind her. Trying to tune out the sounds and voices coming from her cuff and radio, she lowered her chin to her chest as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She wanted to get out of here. She wanted it to be all over.