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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Baklava
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Baklava

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A Friendly Chat




Zoe | Callan


𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~~𝟚𝟘𝟜𝟘

Collab with @Lasrever @Baklava @Chasers115


Walking into the hospital left Zoe feeling uneasy almost immediately. The nurses flitting to and fro, the white walls and laminated floors, the smell of disinfectant that made everything seem so artificial... She couldn't help but be reminded of the last time she'd visited one of these places. It was all the same, right down to the looks of fear as people clocked the 'X' on her throat, and the mix of self-loathing and exhaustion that she knew haunted her expression.

Talk about repeating history, huh?

Of course, some of the others would hate her for her actions. She'd had them beat on that part for a while, though. Told herself it was inevitable, that what she'd done had just accelerated the process.

But they were all alive, and she'd kept them that way. Seemed unlikely that Callan would thank her for it, all things considered, and she wasn't sure what she'd even say to the girl. But she had to try and give her victim some kind of resolution. Not like Zoe was here looking for forgiveness-- She'd sunk far too low for that, had no right to burden Callan by asking. But there had to be some way she could fix things, even a little.

Yeah, she couldn't even convince herself of that one. She paused outside the door, apprehensive. "...Callan? Can I talk to you?"

No response. After waiting for a couple of seconds, Zoe slowly pushed the door open, walking into the room as slowly as she could. She couldn't see Callan anywhere, and stopped just a few steps into the room, frowning as she glanced around. No-one had said anything about the turquoise-haired girl leaving, had they?

Between the running faucet and washing off her face, Callan didn't hear Zoe's voice from across the room. Her mind had long since drifted away from her conversation with Kusari and back to the Wisford fight. Periodically her eyes fell on her hand and she inwardly cringed at the memory, running her thumb along the creases of her palm. It was almost like it'd never happened, yet she still couldn't get it out of her mind. She couldn't say she knew exactly how Zoe's power worked, but... somehow it hadn't seemed like an accident.

She buried her face in one of the clean towels left by the sink as she stepped out of the small bathroom-- still very much in need of fresh clothes and a shower, but a little less worse for wear. The door to her room creaked open then and Callan looked up, suddenly frozen in pure, unadulterated fear. It was strangely different from her fear of Misery. For all the shadow monster's power, she knew it would never hurt her. The sight of Zoe in the doorway, however, insighted a feeling she wasn't sure she'd ever really felt before.

She's back to finish me off. The thought was irrational and she knew it. Zoe had said she wanted to explain herself. Callan felt she owed her that much. She tried to remind herself that she'd spoken with Zoe in the past without any trouble-- but that still didn't stop the sudden pounding in her chest.

"I wanted to--"

After catching sight of the door opening as the recovering arbiter walked in, Zoe took a moment to look Callan over. The girl didn't seem to be in a good way, to say the least, but Zoe wasn't about to point it out. Besides which, that wasn't what had caught her attention as she looked at her classmate.

It was obvious that Callan was absolutely terrified. Clearly she hadn't heard Zoe calling earlier, at least if the shock was anything to go by. Definitely not a good start to a situation this delicate. Hoping to reassure her classmate, Zoe took a step back.

"I can stay across the room, if that'd help. I-- I'm just here to talk." Her brow furrowed as she struggled to find the right words. "Or explain, I guess. If you wanna listen."

Callan tried to force herself into a more casual stance, but her movements were stiff. It was probably best that she just go along with whatever Zoe wanted to do. Lest she anger her fellow mage. "Oh, that's... fine. Whatever you want," she said, in spite of the fact that having Zoe back up seemed a whole lot more preferable to her coming closer, "We can talk." She followed her words with a hollow smile, eyes trained on Zoe, noting every moment.

Zoe couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. She'd half expected Callan to just tell her to get lost. Not like the response wouldn't have been reasonable, even if it would've gotten on her nerves a bit. But this was fine. Good, even.

She decided to take a step back anyway in an attempt to give some sense of security to Callan. And herself, to an extent, because she was all too aware of how easily she could hurt her.

"Sorry doesn't really cut it, huh?" Zoe finally looked at Callan's arm, the flesh where by all rights there shouldn't have been. What did it say that she still couldn't be sure this was a good idea?

"You don't have to forgive me. I wouldn't in your shoes. But you can have the apology and say no more about it, or I can tell you why." If Callan didn't want to know, Zoe wouldn't burden her. But she figured the offer was the least she owed her classmate. She wasn't going to hide the truth, not if it led to this. "I just... Thought it might help, if you knew."

Zoe's glance at her arm didn't go unnoticed. The arbiter gripped her newly grown appendage out of sheer reflex-- as if that could prevent anything from happening. But again, she was thinking irrationally. Zoe was trying to apologize. And she should accept it, right? Her smile faltered a bit and she hesitated before finally answering.

"Yeah," Callan replied, "Uh. An explaination would be good, I think."

Zoe nodded, smiling bitterly as she stared down at the floor. "I promised myself I wouldn't do it again, you know? That I wouldn't hurt someone who--"

Wrong thing to think about. Her expression threatened to crumple for a brief second. No. Callan didn't need to deal with that. She was already putting too much on her. Selfish, really.

"It wasn't anything to do with you. I just... I didn't think you would kill her. You're strong, but you don't seem like the type to murder someone. So I had to." She spoke hesitantly, worried about saying the wrong thing. This was difficult to put words to, at least when she was trying not to freak Callan out too much. "I didn't realise how fast it was working on you, but I knew that it was. It was the only way I could get her in range."

She went quiet for a moment, trying to gauge Callan's reaction. Had to be careful about this. If she dropped too much on her at once, it'd probably just freak her out more.

A frown settled onto Callan's face almost as soon as Zoe's explanation began. She wasn't liking this reasoning. "Again"? Nothing to do with her? Yet it was important to say she hadn't thought Callan could murder someone? THAT was why she'd taken her arm off? Every single one of the enemy mages had died. She'd seen their corpses-- or what was left of them. Beneath the residual fear, a clear spike in irritation caused her expression to harden, but an inkling of doubt kept her mouth shut. She recalled those frustrated feelings of sympathy as, in the gargoyle girl's last moments, she'd screamed and spasmed in pain as a bullet pierced her eye. A few more hits to the face and she would've probably passed out. And for all her rage concerning Savannah's death in that moment, Callan knew that would've been enough for her. Part of her knew Zoe was very likely right-- but the larger part denied it.

Who the hell did she think she was anyway? Making a call like that? She almost bled to death because of her! Nonetheless, Callan waited. It seemed Zoe wasn't quite finished speaking. A good thing since Callan had no idea how to respond.

Yeah, Callan wasn't liking this one bit. Not that Zoe was surprised. The whole thing was a mess.

"You know about Stigmas. I'm... not good at dealing with mine, obviously. Aaron, Gregory, you-- It kept happening, and I should've done more." Her fists clenched, expression twisted in disgust. Why was it that even now, she had to fight back a smile? What the fuck was wrong with her?

"I don't think you'll wanna know what goes on in my head." She frowned, looking down at her hands, the pinkish scars that covered them from who knew how many incidents. "It's not an excuse either way, I should be able to control it. But..." Zoe trailed off, looking doubtful. If she wasn't so weak, she could just come out with it, couldn't she? Burn the bridges, make it so Callan knew how dangerous she was to everyone, not just her. They'd listen if she warned them, right?

But Zoe was afraid of what that meant, so this was the most she could do. A half-offer, with a pretty good chance that Callan wouldn't ask for any detail. After all, the girl probably just wanted rid of her by now.

"Point is, I was never a good person, so I've no hope pretending otherwise. All I can do is try and keep you guys alive." She shrugged, struggling to get her meaning across and aware of how callous it sounded as she did. It was true, anyway, and she'd succeeded in the end. "You probably hate me, and the others will too, but if it means you're still breathing to do it, then I can deal with that."

Callan's expression didn't budge for a while. The generic response would be to say it was fine and pretend to move on. Would probably get her to leave faster anyway. Then she could proceed to avoid the issue. Avoid Zoe and pretend it never happened. But it wasn't fine-- and Zoe apparently recognized this. Callan had seen it all first hand. Zoe could kill a person in mere seconds-- and she didn't even have to touch them to do it. Arguably, Callan could do the same. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Zoe was willing to do it.

As for her little anti-hero spiel... Callan wasn't buying it. Having done a bit of reading on stigmas, a twinge of sympathy for the girl tried to surface. It was snuffed out quickly. Ernie and Emma were both aberrations and they seemed to deal with their stigmas just fine. So much so that Callan often forgot they were aberrations at all. Or was she missing something?

Had it been just a stigma-related issue, perhaps this would've been easier-- like with Sander. It still bothered her that Zoe thought she was so incapable. She wanted to say she'd had it. She'd had everything under control. But that was way too far from the truth. It wasn't like Zoe had been any better though. What? Did she think she was better than everyone else? Because of her moral ambiguity? Because she could kill a person without blinking an eye?

"Are you done?" Callan said the words coldly, immediately regretting them. "Thanks for making sure I came out of it alive and all, but... I don't need you looking out for me."

She should've stopped there.

"If you can't control yourself, then maybe you shouldn't be getting so close to me. Or especially the others." It wasn't her fault, was it? She was forced to use her ability. To fight with everyone. But, finally averting her eyes, the words kept coming. "And I'd rethink my motto if I were you. If you keep abusing your ability like that," --Misery came to mind-- "You might end up pissing off the wrong person."

Zoe clenched her fists, speaking coldly as she forced her voice to remain level. "I hope that's not a threat, Callan. I really do."

She could have taken hatred. She could have taken insults. Hell, she'd come prepared to have her ribs snapped into fourteen different pieces if Callan reacted badly. That was fine. What she wasn't going to do was sit around and listen to some patronising lecture, especially as she finally absorbed what Callan had actually said.

"As for the rest of it, you think I've not been trying?" Zoe's eyes flared with anger as she raised her head, and something sharper crept into her tone. She knew Callan had a right to lash out, knew she deserved worse, but the other girl didn't understand a thing she was talking about. "Believe it or not, there's a reason I'm such a bitch to you guys. Don't talk to me like I'm a goddamned idiot, when you're the one that's treating everything like it's some kind of fucking fairytale."

Cruel. Another good word for her. Murderous, callous, cruel. But something about the way Callan spoke got on her nerves, and she'd been on edge since the battle ended. Confusion, conflicting emotions, doubt-- It wasn't fair to take it out on someone she'd maimed, but fuck it. Callan wanted her to push her away, so be it. She smiled, tauntingly. "So if that's the game we're playing then tell me, how many more people have to die before you figure out how the world works? I might be a murderer, but we both know who won that fight."

At Zoe's tone, her composure slipped for a moment. Callan hadn't meant what she said as a threat so much as a warning, but in her case she supposed they were kind of the same thing. Either way, Zoe was getting mad and that wasn't good. Callan grit her teeth, looking wounded as Zoe continued. Thinking of Savannah, her words hit a little too close to home. A couple different responses came to mind as frustration and guilt bubbled up inside her. Zoe was still wrong. Hers wasn't the only way to get things done. She didn't care how "effectve" she'd been.

Zoe was smiling now. Proud of her accomplishments, if Callan had to guess. Rather than taunt her, however, Zoe's expression only succeeded in making Callan feel more disturbed. She stared hard at Zoe's shoes, too scared to say anything else that might set the girl off. She gripped her arm more tightly as she spoke, "If you're done explaining yourself, you can leave now."

"I don't think there's much left to say." Zoe noted Callan's lack of response to the accusations with a sense of grim satisfaction. She didn't know exactly what had gone down in the fight, but she'd managed to strike some sort of nerve. Part of her felt sorry for the girl, another held an odd sense of regret. Like maybe they could have been friends in a better world. Trying to put the idea out of her mind, she looked towards the door. One last jab to get under Callan's skin before leaving. "I can promise you one thing, though, Callan: We're not as different as you think we are."

'Not as different'.... Those words stuck in her head. Callan glared, but she couldn't deny that she'd felt it was true back when they'd first met. But now.... no, of course not. She wasn't at all like Zoe. The part of her that mattered wasn't anyway. Perhaps the sick creature residing in her shadow could sympathize with Zoe's bloodlust, but not her. She wanted to win, but she didn't want to kill anyone if she could help it. Surely she didn't need one to have the other... though this last fight didn't really help her case. Not only had they slaughtered their enemies, but several of their own had died, too. Savannah... that guy from the cafeteria... all those other people....

"Am I...interrupting something?" Came the voice from the door.

It hadn't taken Marcus very long to find the hospital, especially with Brent also there, the two pairs of eyes probably hadn't been necessary in finding the building. Likewise, getting someone to point him in the direction of Callan's room hadn't been that difficult either. 'Girl with aquamarine hair' was a pretty good descriptor, and had given him a room number to go find.

He was a little nervous to talk to her; she'd lost an arm, a lot of blood, and there had been the 'incident', and he was honestly not sure how she'd be handling any of it. Gripping the plastic bags tighter, he'd found her room. However, he wasn't quite sure what kind of situation he was looking at when he got there.

Callan looked up at the familiar voice. The tension in the room was thick enough to slice with a knife. She couldn't decide if she was happy to see Marcus or not. It seemed she might have to talk about what happened to Savannah before the night was through after all. Heaving a sigh, she did her best to make her tone casual-- but she'd never been a very good actress.

"Nah. She was just leaving." Callan said, eyes on Zoe.

Zoe wondered if she'd pushed it too far. Pretty pathetic, how she couldn't even talk to someone she'd hurt so badly without getting in a fight. Still, it had to be said, didn't it? The way she thought, the brutality, the way she gave in to her stigma - It was what needed to be done, and it always had been. The way of the world, the strong tearing down the weak. She'd always been right, again and again, and Callan needed to see it on some level. Wouldn't let herself think about what it meant if she really was wrong.

She walked over towards the door, pulling it open and stepping aside to let Marcus past with a nod. "Go ahead. I'll leave you guys to it."
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by ERode
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ERode Odd One Out

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They were all tired, huh? The ride to the drop off point was quiet, Siena slumping against his shoulder as the APC rumbled through the all-too quiet streets. The stench of blood must have been powerful, but once again, Brent’s gas mask made itself a good investment. Filtered, rubbery air was better than copper. His hands remained clasped throughout the ride, remnants of his equipment hanging loosely on him. It didn’t take long for the APC to arrive, and soon, Experimental Unit B was split up further, injured in one truck and the uninjured in another.

The ride to La Plata was even quieter, conversation forsaken as people dozed off, recalled unpleasant memories, or stared blankly into space. It was only a thirty minute ride, but it was also an eternity, the wreckage of Wisford replaced by the small buildings of La Plata. How disconcerting, that, just thirty minutes away, a town could look so untouched. How pathetic, that, just thirty minutes away, a town could still look so unprepared.

How distasteful, that he felt disgust at a town that was so accustomed to peace and quiet.

By the time the truck had arrived at the motel, the arbiter could feel his own emotions draining out of him. He barely heard the commands from the officer, didn’t even bother looking for someone to room with, and ultimately, climbed the stairs up to the highest floor of the motel, wishalloy sagging over his body as he keyed his card, pushed in the door, and faceplanted onto the bed.

Somber, that’s what it felt like. After the rush of energy he received from Siena’s gratitude, the dullness of the world fell upon him once more, and the fact was that, no matter how many thanks he received, Sav was still dead.

“Ah, here it is again…”

Sav, the brat that did nothing during Flag and Seek. Sav, the brat that gave them all the information they thought they needed to score an easy victory. Sav, the brat that got all weirded out when he tried to encourage her to pursue her musical interests. Sav, the brat that was triggered hard by any mention of her being short. Sav, Sav, Savannah.

Memories flickered by.

But you still feel nothing.

Yeah, even if she died, even if he forced himself to recall, even if he did his best…

No tears formed, not even in the privacy of this dingy little motel.

It’s still just like and dislike, wasn’t it?
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by ERode
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ERode Odd One Out

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Heist Night




Brent | Marcus | Ernest


𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~~𝟚𝟘𝟛𝟘
Collab with [@banjoango] @Chasers115


Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Chasers115
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Chasers115 The FatCat

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Recovery and Regret




Marcus | Callan


𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟚𝟙𝟘𝟘
Collab with @Chasers115 @Baklava


Marcus's eyes darted between Callan and...the girl he'd never seen before. Except there was something vaguely familiar about her...she must have been part of their group if she was here. She hadn't been on his team for the Flag Game, which meant she had been in the second group. But who?

Slowly, as his eyes searched her face for something familiar, he began to piece it together. She'd been one of the first ones to get tazed it what he would describe as 'a bloodbath'. The one who had melted the toilet-kid's face, without a second's hesatation.

Dangerous

He gave her a slightly hesitant nod, not really sure what to make of the circumstances. The way Callan had pointed out her immediate exit was not at all friendly. Which meant she hadn't been here as a friend. He stepped into the room, looking to Callan for some sort of subtle explanation, waiting to see if the girl was actually on her way out.

Callan's eyes lingered on the doorway for a few seconds after Zoe made her leave. She exhaled shakily, traces of the fear and frustration still keeping her posture tense. "Hey Marcus," she said simply, unable to muster up so much as smile with Zoe's words still fresh in her head.

Oh boy, whatever had just happened, it had not been good. The shaky breaths and the tense air of the room told him that much. While he was curious about the events, Marcus knew when some things just weren't good to talk about. He wasn't exactly one to pry when it made things uncomfortable.

So, after the brief moment in which he surveyed the room, he adopted a more-upbeat tone, his voice swelling with faux excitement. "Guess who brought presents?" he said, shuffling the bag in his hands.

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards into an unsure smile. Presents were the last thing she deserved after everything that happened. What's more, she was beginning to notice a dismal pattern here. Marcus shouldn't have to always be the one picking her ass up after she gets upset. As much as she kind of liked that he'd been thinking about her-- enough to go out and buy things....

"Oh man. You didn't have to get me anything," Callan replied, forcing the rest of her mouth into a full smile. Gradually, she could feel the tension from Zoe's visit beginning to ebb. "Uh. Thanks, though. What'd you bring?"

"Weeeelllll." Marcus said, trying to draw out the excitement of gifts as long as possible. "We've got a bag of jerky, since I know you like it so much. Plus I snagged a bag of pretzles and a blue Gatorade for you, since I see those laying empty all around the room all the time." he said, giving her an aloof grin.

He pulled out the items as he mentioned them, lightly tossing everything but the drink onto her lap as he did so.

"Oh, and Ernie wanted me to drop this little bag off for you too; I'm pretty sure your phone is in there somewhere."

"Tch," she smiled ruefully back at him.

"Looks like you guys thought of everything," she said, feeling slightly overwhelmed as she took the smaller bag from Marcus. Fishing out her phone, she habitually tapped the screen to open it before setting it aside. Something nagged at the back of her head, but she ignored it. Paranoia didn't suit her.

"Thanks...," she added, flashing him one last, small smile before her expression grew more somber. She gently set the snacks beside her phone.

"How are you doing?" she asked, shooting him a concerned glance before averting her eyes.

"Not a problem! Delivery service at your...well, service I guess." Marcus said, the statement getting away from him a little bit. He shrugged at her question, looking off to the blank wall for a second, just in case his face betrayed anything.

"Eh, you know. Got my cardio for the day running away from paparazzi, had to deal with a very rude lady to get these snacks for you, and my heart is slowing down after that small, panicked moment just now, but pretty good otherwise!"

A lie of course, he wasn't as 'pretty good' as he stated, but making Callan worry about that wouldn't help the situation at all.

Callan wasn't entirely convinced. She looked up to catch him staring at the far wall. His demeanor was convincing enough but... Savannah had died. He'd been the one driving around with her right before it happened. Lawrence almost met the same fate, too! Was he really fine?

She couldn't decide on what to say next as she stared at him fixedly-- looking for a chink in the armor that would easily betray how he'd really been faring. She sighed through her nose and looked away. Even if he wasn't fine... maybe she shouldn't pry. She was just as guilty of that sort of thing.

Gathering up what courage she could, Callan figured there was one thing she needed to get off her chest at least. Not that it would help, but... everyone should be in agreement over whose fault it was.

"A... about Savannah..." Callan started.

Not another one. That was all that anybody wanted to talk about right now, and it was the only thing he wanted to stay away from. It was like he was living in his own personal hell, which he somewhat deserved, he supposed.

The words glanced off him like a knife, causing him to nearly flinch in response. Instead, he sighed looking to the floor as if debating something internally in his head. He said nothing, but looked to her, evident that he was ready for whatever it was she was about to say.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I can't... really say that to the person who deserves it since she's...." She swallowed hard. "Anyway, it was my fault. I should've... been more careful. I came to help you guys, but I got her killed instead."

"Callan." Marcus said, feeling the weight in his chest sink. Between her and Emma, he was having a real hard time saying the same thing over and over again without the lies starting to show through. He'd break. He didn't want to, but this kind of psychological torture could only go on so long before the cracks in his reassurances started to widen.

"It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could have to stop that gargoyle lady. In the end, it's her fault. Not yours. Not..." he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "...anybody else's fault either."

He sighed again. Eyes darting anywhere but Callan's face. Even now he was starting to break down.

Her expression hardened. She'd heard this same speech before. Back when Padma died and she'd snapped at Grant-- something she felt ten times as remorseful for now. But she'd thought it over a million times in the past few hours. Over and over and over. She knew exactly whose fault it was.

"Marcus, you were there," Callan said, staring at him ernestly, "You saw what happened. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I had no business jumping in there recklessly like I did. She died for my mistake, Marcus. I heard it." Surprised by how graphic her last statement had sounded, Callan buried her face in her hands and tried to shut out the mental images that came with it. A single, loud, wet snap.

"I know you're just trying to make me feel better," Callan continued, her voice a bit shaky as she willed away the impending tears, "But that's just the way it is. I really messed up."

"Callan, I..." he had nothing to say here. Even as her voice grew shaky and he could feel his own guilt start to well up inside him, threatening to crash over him like a tidal wave. Savannah's twisted neck came to his own mind, the lifeless eyes staring like a plastic doll.

"...I don't know what you want me to say." he finally let out, the words soft and almost stopped from coming out. He was right there with her; he wanted to break down and tell her everything, just so she'd feel better for a moment.

"I know that's how you feel, but I'm telling you that I don't think it was your fault. And if I need to keep saying that...I will. I'll keep saying it for as long as it takes."

No, no, no. He wasn't getting it. Why wouldn't he accept that it was her fault? She slid her hands off her face, looking at him with rising distress. "You don't have to say anything!" she said, "You don't have to lie either, though. Maybe I don't have all the blame, but it's mostly mine. I know how strong that abe was, Marcus. She could've snapped Savannah's neck like a twig all on her own. For all I know, they weren't going to kill her... at least not yet. But that's beside the point...."

"Marcus." she said, noticing that he seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

"Seriously. Look at me and say that if I hadn't tackled that abe, Savannah's neck wouldn't have snapped. Don't... don't bullshit me. I've thought about this."

Marcus closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking the whole thing over. She didn't deserve this; to be tearing herself down over someone else's mistake. over his mistake.

"No. It wouldn't have." he finally said, turning to look at Callan. "If you hadn't tackled her, she probably wouldn't have broken her neck. She probably would have been eviscerated by the gargoyle. Had her throat torn open. Maybe she would have gotten a spike through the chest."

His voice was rising a little bit slightly, the product of his anger towards himself spilling out. "I don't know if you noticed, Callan, but that group wasn't exactly taking hostages. They weren't friendly - they were there to kill us."

His voice dropped back down to his normal tone, picking up its own slightly shaky tenor along the way. "I'm sorry, Cal. But I don't think there was anything you could have done. Like you said - she could have snapped Savannah's neck all on her own."

Again, Callan didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she decided that was good enough. She shouldn’t have been so insistent anyway. Marcus probably hadn’t wanted to talk about it any more than she did. He did have a point, though— it was entirely likely Savannah would’ve died whether she’d been there or not.

Part of her even wished those abes had gotten it over with before she arrived. If only so she could stop feeling like there was something else she could have done.

Her face screwed up with regret and disgust at how her mind kept trying to cope. She went back to nervously running the pad of her thumb over each knuckle.

Sorry,” she said, knowing it was a little too late to start feeling bad about making Marcus uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that on you. I just… I don’t know who else to apologize too. I didn’t know anything about her. I don’t know who her friends were or how to reach her family or…” the words caught in her throat and she swallowed, “Sorry. I should probably just stop talking about it.” Her mouth twitched into half of an apologetic smile. She could talk about it all day, but it wouldn’t change anything. Savannah was dead. What more was there to discuss?

"It's okay. It's difficult, and it never gets any easier." Marcus said, giving Callan a broken smile. "But hey, I'm still here, and you're still here. Even if you feel beaten down and broken - we're both here. That's all that matters."

His smile grew a little bit warmer, but still retained the obvious signs of fractures. It was nothing he could help; he just didn't have the strength for it.

"You should rest. You've been through a lot today, and I just wanted to check up on you, give you another pep talk if you needed it, deliver a couple presents, etc."

It was a clumsy exit, but as much as he felt he needed to help out his roommate, he was starting to show too much. He needed to leave before he overextended himself with Callan, before things started to peek through.

Callan winced at the noticable difference in his smile. Marcus was obviously hurting and she certainly hadn't helped things. At least they'd both kept their promise? He was right. They both made it back alive.

She considered offering a hug. He'd done that for her once. But she faced the same dilemma as before. She needed to keep herself from getting too upset and she was already on the cusp of tears as it was. Hugs were always quick to make her unravel and she just couldn't afford that right now.

"Alright," she nodded, "Yeah... I'm glad you're okay, Marcus. Thanks for the stuff...." She tried to smile with the same amount of warmth, "Make sure you get some rest, too."

"Try to ration it out, I'm not making grocery runs every morning for you because you gorged yourself on junk food." Marcus said. One last joke; a quick attempt to regain some of the footing he'd lost.

He gave Callan a nod, stretching a little and moving towards the door. Just as it seemed like he was going to round the corner and disappear, he stopped, turning back towards Callan for one last statement.

"Do me a favor and stop worrying me like that, Cal. I'm gonna go grey here before too long."

The request caught her off guard. He didn't give her a chance to respond before leaving, either. Callan stared at the empty doorway for a moment, wondering at what he meant before she finally stood up and closed the door. She sighed heavily, feeling only a brief modicum of relief. The weight of the younger girl's death was still heavy on her mind, but she did her best to drown out the noise.

Picking up her phone, she turned the device over in her hand a few times before putting in her headphones and lying down.

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by VarionusNW
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VarionusNW Nobody In Particular

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Allison Revel|Kusari Bloodworth



Collab with @Piercing Light


They had taken Savannah away. That was all that Allison could think about on the ride to the motel, staring at her hands the whole time. She didn't put up much of a fight when they came for the body, but she did yell something nearly incomprehensible about Benediction and bringing the dead girl back to life. Her efforts would be fruitless, she knew that. Why would they waste Benediction's time bringing some kid back to life? Savannah's life didn't matter.

By the time Allison had coaxed herself out of her trance, and pulled her gaze away from her hands, she was being led toward a motel in the town of La Plata, along with the rest of the students. It seemed that they wouldn't be going back to the school for now. This would be their temporary home for the next few days, a motel in a small town surrounded by press and soldiers. The easiest option would be to stay in a room and rest until they were told to leave; Allison's tired body definitely preferred this idea. Though, being alone in a room was the last thing Allison wanted right now. She needed to talk to someone, for various reasons.

Allison immediately began looking through her fellow students. Angel was nowhere to be found, as she was taken in another vehicle with the injured. They had probably been taken to a hospital, for obvious reasons, Allison would have to go there later. Angel was probably okay, but it was still a good idea to go see how she was doing.

The brunette spotted someone else rather quickly, a thin, white-haired girl who she'd been with over the course of the battle.

"Kusari!" Allison's voice was shaky and weak, but it was loud enough to be serviceable. She approached the girl, though, realizing that her eyes were quite red, and her cheeks were tear-soaked, she quickly tried to wipe her tears away with her hands, but this only served to spread dirt across her cheeks.

Listless red eyes stared at the motel commandeered for Kusari and her fellow students. Why weren't they on a private jet or something to head back to the school? She was too tired and angry to bother thinking about it too much. Her eyes widened as she heard Allison call out to her. She turned to see a teary, dirty face looking back at her. Savannah's death obviously hit her hard, they must have been getting along. If she cared so much then why did she waste time cutting up that automaton? She almost wanted to say it out loud, but she already knew the answer. Aberrations really couldn't control themselves, could they?

"Did you want something?" Kusari asked as she began to walk towards the motel.

"No, not really... I mean, how are you doing? Are you alright? Everything happened so fast..." Allison attempted to wipe the dirt from her face as she spoke, her words a mess almost as cluttered as her thoughts.

Kusari raised a brow at Allison. It sounded more like she was the one that needed to be asked if she was alright. "Chill out,
I'm fine. I'm the last person you should worry about."
Kusari said. She'd been disregarding her safety far more often than would be normal. "Hrmm..." Kusari looked slightly up and tapped her chin. "Your stigma... It's eased down...
or something?"


"Y-yea." The question reminded her of the machine, filled with bodies both living and dead, and how she had cut it down and ran away without care for those inside. Allison tried not to dwell on it. They should've stopped and healed them, but they didn't.

Allison's head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton balls. Everything seemed dulled, but Allison's stigma was still clearly present. It wasn't ruling her mind, but she definitely felt it, her thoughts crawling with it. The fighting hadn't been enough to fully sate it, of course nothing would, but it was almost as if the chaos around her had made it hunger for more.

"I'm sorry... I just feel like I need to talk to someone, with everything that's happened..."

"I hear what you're saying but..." Kusari looked back towards the motel. "We can talk in my room later, after I wash this crap off of me and visit Cal in the Hospital." She said brushing crumbled pavement off her shoulder.

"Yea, of course, I'm sorry. I should probably do the same." Allison quietly berated herself for not noticing something so obvious. She considered, for a moment, asking to join Kusari, but quickly abandoned this idea though it was hard to hide the embarrassment at the thought from flooding her cheeks. Allison hurried into the building.





After scrubbing to the point her skin started to glow with her power, Kusari decided she had finally gotten the smell of death and gravel off of her and stepped out of the shower. She ended up soaking an entire towel just drying her hair, she was tempted to just cut it off and not bother, but then she'd have a pile of wet hair sitting in the bathroom and she didn't feel like explaining that.

She walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her thin body. She was reminded of the time she walked out in front of Callan showing off more skin than she should have. The reaction, or lack of reaction rather, was depressing to think about. "Hey Allison." She said, looking as if she were contemplating an existential conundrum. "I'm attractive, right? But am I like... 'I'd hit that' attractive?" She said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

The tired brunette sat, waiting on the bed farther from the bathroom door for a while before Kusari made her entrance. Allison's face became flushed immediately as the tall, lithe girl stepped out with only a towel wrapped around her. Her hands tightly gripped the mattress, her arms tense at her sides. She quickly averted her gaze to the floor. Anyone could tell she was flustered from a mile away. Somewhere in her head, she knew it had to just be teasing, but her stigma was still gnawing at her, so many things she wanted to say and do to the nearly naked girl. She turned her head to face Kusari again, staring deep into her eyes.

"Yea, there is definitely something attractive about you, Kusari."

Well this was certainly surprising. Allison had reacted in a pretty obvious manner. Her gaydar was broken for sure. She was simply expecting a boring answer, but now she had a wave of thoughts with ulterior motives. She felt her face heat up as Allison looked her in the eyes.
"T-that so?" She anxiously gripped her towel near her chest. "This body of mine hasn't exactly been great for my self-esteem. So that um, that means a lot to me." She stammered. Her heart was beating faster now, each pump like a knock on the door of her inhibitions.

This wasn't okay though, was it? She still liked Callan, but the blue topped girl wasn't into her, besides it's not like they're dating anyway, so hooking up with someone wouldn't be a betrayal, right?

Kusari shot up from the bed. "Sorry, I uh, need to get my clothes from the dryer." She said, about to leave.

Allison immediately stood, and moved towards the mostly naked girl, grasping her shoulder.

"Are you really going to tease someone like that and leave them cold?" Allison's mind was numb, her body felt hot. Kusari started this, and Allison needed her to finish it, even if it was just the stigma driving her.

Kusari jumped as Allison grabbed her shoulder. This was a tempting mess she'd gotten herself into. She could easily leave right this moment, it wasn't as if she'd feel bad for saying no. As she thought about it, she couldn't find much reason to turn Allison down. What was the worst that would happen? She wouldn't feel awkward about it later, she wasn't so naive as to consider it something to be ashamed of or hidden. Still, she needed to see Callan first, just to make sure she was doing alright

Kusari turned around and faced Allison. She is cute, and after all the shit I've gone through I deserve this right? Kusari took a deep breath and put on a confident face. "Alright, but first you need to take a shower." She also really did need to get her clothes from the dryer, the motel staff were likely too afraid to even touch her things. "I'll be back later." She said, grabbing a robe from the room's closet and putting it on, making sure to avoid flashing Allison. Silly all things considered, but it was basically by reflex. She left the room and headed for the laundry room.

Kusari was right, Allison was in desperate need of a shower, given the dirt still present on her face and hands. She had a while to wait on Kusari, it seemed. Allison took her time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the day's events. She had time to get her clothes to the laundry room, and wait in a robe on one of the room's beds. She had started to consider whether or not this was a good idea. Kusari was certainly nice, but Allison had only known the girl for the better part of a day. It was clearly the stigma pushing things forward, but then again, Kusari did seem legitimately interested. That was concerning in itself, though. Why was Kusari so quick to do this? Well, as quick as one could be when going to visit someone else first. She had gone to visit Callan, right? The girl who's arm Zoe had rotted off. Was Kusari with this Callan, or something, or maybe she was being denied by her? Allison dropped the train of thought relatively quickly. She had no right to judge someone for using her as an out for sexual frustration. Allison went to retrieve her dried clothes and take them back to the room before Kusari returned.

Having returned from visiting Callan, Kusari was now standing in front of the door to her room. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest, after all she was about to sleep with someone right after meeting the girl she had a crush on. She's not into me anyway. She repeated in her head multiple times. She reached for the door, but stopped as her eyes met the crimson gleam of her claws. Wasn't this... a problem? Allison seemed to not mind her monstrous limbs, but she couldn't exactly be gentle with this arm. "It'll be... fine." She said to herself, before opening the door.

"Hey." She greeted Allison, who was looking much cleaner than she was before. "Sorry for taking so long." She said, walking over to the mini-fridge. She took out a bottle of water and sat down on the bed. She patted the bed, inviting Allison to sit next to her. "Honestly, I wasn't expecting to be doing anything like this after all that happened. But I guess it beats moping around."

"Hey." Allison moved next to Kusari, still wearing one of the motel's robes instead of her regular clothes, which were piled neatly on the other bed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Trust me, I've thought about it." Kusari said. "Any of us could die tomorrow, or the day after that.
I don't plan on letting all of this break me down."
She took a drink of the water, just now realizing how thirsty she was. She looked over to the pile of Allison's clothes. So she isn't wearing anything under that... She was past the point of being flustered any more.

"Do you have any experience with this sort of thing?" Allison spoke softly, lightly resting her hand on Kusari's shoulder. This was the point of no return.

"I've only ever had a boyfriend, so... sort of? I'm sure I can figure it out." Kusari really didn't want to think about her ex, he dropped her faster than a bag of scorpions once he found out she was a subnatural. Kusari took the hand on her shoulder into her left hand. Allison had warm hands, it was comforting in a way.

"I'll take the lead then." Allison moved as close as she could, and leaned in to press her lips against Kusari's. She had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Chasers115
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Chasers115 The FatCat

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Darkness and Solitude



Marcus Howell


𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟞, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / 𝟘𝟚𝟘𝟘


Somehow, Marcus had managed to find sleep. Perhaps it was the late-night visits that had left him mentally exhausted, or perhaps it was the physical exertion that had left his body tired and achy. Whatever it was, he’d managed to fall asleep amid a tangle of blankets and pillows.

Of course, if he had known that the nightmares would return, he probably would have tried to stay awake.



He jerked up in bed, his stomach immediately doing a flip as he threw the covers off and sprinted for the bathroom. His stomach heaved a few times, the illusionary smell of charred flesh still hanging heavy in his nose as he knelt before the porcelain. No matter how many times he tried to, that was a scent that he could not erase from his mind, and simply waited for moments like this to resurface.

His stomach stopped its turning, the contents remaining safely where they were supposed to be. He was lucky this time; as there had been nights when he hadn’t been as fortunate.

Marcus sat on the white tiled floor, breathing heavily, eyes watering and hands shaking. Had he heard a scream just now, or had it just been the nightmares? He strained his ears to find anything over the sound of his own pumping blood, but to no avail. Whatever it was had stopped, or had never existed in the first place.

He curled himself up as small as he could next to the toilet, bringing his knees up to his face and resting in that position. There was one thing that was abundantly clear in his mind, despite the slight grogginess: he was alone. He was alone, and he desperately didn’t want to be.

He should have asked Emma to stay with him, but he hadn’t. He didn’t want to impose and suggest something like that too early – accidentally insinuate something that neither of them were ready for. It was a choice he was very much regretting at this point, as he hid in his corner. But it was fine; she hadn’t asked either. She probably preferred the room to herself.

He didn’t even have the comforting presence of his roommates, either; he wasn’t trying not to trip on the scattered snack packages, or trying to be quiet enough not to wake the dog that was always curled up somewhere inconvenient.

He needed someone right now. Someone to just be there. Siena, Emma, Callan, Max...hell, he’d even take the stupid mutt if it meant that he wouldn’t be alone right now. But they weren’t around. There was nobody. It was his fault.

His fault.

He couldn’t push it off until later anymore, and this one moment of weakness was all it took. Everything he’d left for ‘later’ was starting to swell over his head, ready to drown him beneath the waves. It had been his fault. Pretty much everything that had happened had been his fault. Emma and Callan were tearing themselves apart, and it was his fault. Savannah was stowed away in a box somewhere, and it was his fault. An old man and a guard were cold and lifeless somewhere, and it was his fault.

And he was the only one who knew.

It would be so easy to tell them what had happened, but he didn’t want the blame. He didn’t want their hot gazes, angry words, or anything like that. He wanted to hide from his mistakes, even if it meant that he was causing other people to suffer. It was selfish, but he’d take that secret to the grave if he was able to.

He wanted to get up. Splash his face in the sink. Glare at the torn face he didn’t recognize in the mirror. Punch something. Be angry. Be strong, like Callan or Max. He wanted to push through it with brute force. With confidence and charisma. Another joke to fill the moment.

But that wasn’t Marcus. It was a personality he’d stolen from someone else.

The person he’d decided to be after the dream. Someone who could help, even if it was just by making the people around him feel a little bit happier. Someone whose every action was made with the approval and thought of the friends he’d made.
He wanted to be the kind of person he needed.

But that wasn’t Marcus.

Marcus was a scared kid. The shy one of the class. The wimp. Always hiding behind his older sister when everything started to come down on him. Not strong enough to fight his own battles. The one who didn’t talk very much and didn’t have many friends. The one who was paralyzed by fear in the most important moments, too pathetic to act because of his phobias.

He didn’t want to be that kid anymore. He didn’t want to be the broken human being curled up next to a toilet as the panic washed over him in waves, as the tracks of salt water inched down his face, cutting through the slight layer of grime he hadn’t thought to wash off. None of the friends his stolen personality had won were around now. It was just him and the guilt that coiled around like a noose around his neck, forcing his breath to stop in his throat as it constricted.

He needed somebody, but he had nobody.

The sound of quiet sniffles echoed through the bathroom, the flickering lights above illuminating the pathetic form as he softly wept.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Lasrever
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Lasrever

Member Seen 9 mos ago





Sept.16, 2020. ~22:30


Zoe couldn't sleep. She'd had a lot to think about, since the fight, and had deliberately been avoiding most of the class as a result. After all, she was capable of so much more now, physically, and mentally she had no faith in her ability to keep things under control. So she'd stayed in, only venturing out of her room for food and fresh air on occasion. Thankfully enough, no-one much felt like approaching her either.

Her days had been consumed with training, exercise after exercise within the confines of her room. Boring, mind-numbing repetition and not exactly what anyone would call 'fun', but there was some comfort to be found in not thinking of much at all. More than would be found from hostile stares and fearful eyes that would accompany any kind of conversation. Something safe about the numbness that came with effort and the familiar burning in her muscles. At least her body was holding together, if not her mind.

But it was too late in the day for it now, and so her thoughts were beginning to wander. Wandering to places she'd rather not have seen them go. Turning to her classmates, for example. From what she could tell, most of them had returned from the hospital at this point.

They were all so vulnerable, sitting around here. Letting their guard down. It'd be pretty easy to just--

Not now, damn it.

Wouldn't even take a second, once she locked her hands around their throat.

I'm not about to do anything.

Hey, maybe she could reach someone through the walls. They wouldn't know what hit them. A sudden heart attack, maybe - Destroying a few veins might do that, right? She couldn't be blamed for a freak accident.

It's not me. This isn't me. I'm stronger than that.

Accident! Just like the rest of them, just like it always was. Sorry, sorry, sorry but never changing. How many 'accidents' before she just gave in already?

With a grimace of frustration, she tossed her pillow against the wall. Unsatisfying, didn't make her feel better. Sleep would be better, impossible to hurt someone then, but it'd be worse once she woke up. And then what, transport? She had no idea how she'd get through the journey without snapping.

At some point, she'd started pacing. Felt like shit, obviously. Knew what'd make her feel better, the way nothing else could. Even now it would be easy to lose herself to it. They didn't strictly need to die, might be more fun if they didn't, but even if they did: What was one more death at her hands?

"Stop it." Muttered under her breath. Felt like yelling, but then the others would hear, and she didn't want to deal with them right now. Lashing out, her fist leaving a slight dent in the plaster of the wall. Unlikely to disturb anyone. Good. If they came in, she was scared to think what she might do.

She hated thinking about this place, about herself. So she had to change it, had to find some way out. To escape.

Because thinking about it, the others were better off without her there, weren't they? They were a group, a team, a unit, and she was... What? Where did she fit in?

A monster when true to her nature. A rabid dog without a leash. It didn't seem to her like something that could be fixed, but more that there was some fundamentally difference between her and the rest of them. A divide she wasn't sure she could ever truly cross. By all rights, this should've changed things, this new situation where the world was against her and everyone else. Should have forced them to have some kind of bond.

But Zoe was realising she had no place here. That for all the hatred the world directed at them, her classmates had each other. That she was one of the things they were afraid of. Yeah, that was a special talent alright-- Surrounded by people with only each other to turn to, and she'd still ended up alone. Worse still, she couldn't try and change that, because it meant running the risk that she'd hurt them.

I already have.

And yet she'd told herself what, that they needed her?

Someone had to finish the fight. If she wasn't there, more would die. More she was supposed to keep alive.

Or she'd stay and it was only a matter of time before she was the one to kill them.

She didn't know.

Up until now, she thought she'd known. Right, right, right, it was always the same. She always knew what was going to happen, saw the danger while they played pretend. This time wouldn't be any different. Except it was. Because her warnings had been ignored, before, nothing more she could do to prevent events from unfolding. Watching from the sidelines no matter how she fought. But this time she could remove the danger, because she knew exactly what it was. Or who.

But if she wasn't here there was no-one to take the burden. They'd get themselves killed with talk of mercy and forgiveness. All that that sort of naivety had ever earned anyone was a knife in the back. Without her around, one of them would fall to their own dumbass ideals.

Either way, they'd end up getting hurt because of her. At least there was a chance they'd learn, though. In that moment, it seemed impossible to Zoe that she'd ever be better than this.

It was too much to consider. Tearing everything apart. No right answer, no way out. Why couldn't it just make sense?

Pain. That'd make it go away, it always did. Once it hurt enough, she wouldn't have to think about it anymore. It was an escape, if an unhealthy one. That was it. The things she'd done... It would be easy to make herself understand. The power was there, and with it the growing desire to torture and maim. No targets. She wouldn't hurt them. But she needed to hurt.

In the absence of other options, Zoe could think of no better target than herself.

She walked over to the chair, resting her hands on it for stability. Better to be strong, not to be distracted while she did this. It needed focus, she wanted to feel what she was doing or there wasn't any point to it. This could prove she was strong, prove her resolve, give her some semblance of certainty where she was slowly losing her grip. What she did to others, she had to be willing to endure. It was the only way to fix it.

Because she was strong.

The power resisted as she tried to activate it. She had to push, to fight for every inch of control. Seemed like there was some kind of safeguard to prevent what she was trying to do. That was almost funny, really - She could kill people without hesitating, tear them limb from limb, laugh while she tortured them, but apparently directing that at herself was too far. Pathetic. So pathetic.

Still she could feel the itch starting. White-hot needles, thousands upon thousands across the backs of her hands. The progress was agonisingly slow, but she found herself almost savouring it as the power fought her every step of the way. It was darkly fascinating to watch the flecks rising from her skin, to force her eyes open even as every instinct screamed to squeeze them shut and look away. Watch. See what she'd done to them.

She felt something stir at the back of her mind.

Blond hair, a sympathetic, kind smile. Always smiling at everyone, trying to make them at ease. People had always joked about them being polar opposites. Her brother in everything except blood.

He always came after her, didn't he? Always thought he could fix everything and make it right. But she knew it wouldn't work this time. Said so many times he owed her his life for looking after him.

Maybe it was time for her to collect on that debt.


Zoe noted the memory with dread, fearing where it would lead. Of course, the forums said something about this - the stigma rebelling when they tried to kill themselves. Not a stretch to imagine it did so for injury too. She didn't know how far this went-- But she could push past it. It didn't control her. She was in charge, not whatever DC bullshit was messing with her head.

The pain started then, unlike anything she'd felt before. Zoe hissed through her teeth as she tried to get her head around the sensation, before it broke into a bitter laugh. This was what she did to them, to her victims - though their nerves were probably destroyed a lot more quickly. Not her, not now. Deserved to feel this, didn't she? Embracing it, now, as she always did. Pain was always the same. A twisted version of the stigma's rush, now, but even before. It was good in its own way, though she wasn't sure quite how to describe it.

She'd had to get away. She didn't care about any of it, and neither did he. All she knew was that she couldn't think about anything else. Every time she looked at any of them, the urge had been overpowering. Hurt them, make them bleed, make them beg. The same was happening now.

Why couldn't he have just left her alone? And why was he still smiling like nothing was wrong? Why did he still act like it was okay?

So fucking childish.


She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the terror that was creeping into her mind. It would go away if she just kept pushing. She could get rid of it, ignore it. Break herself down. If she destroyed herself, made sure there was nothing left, then she couldn't hurt anyone else. And she could do that. Needed more. More, and then it would all go away. It had to.

Or at least, she thought she could, until the effect came close to the important parts. Veins, tendons, arteries. The things that would cause serious damage, loss of function. Leave her bleeding out. Soon she'd have done enough to make it likely.

Crystal clear. There was a smile on her face a little too wide to be normal. Laughter, almost hysterical, ringing out as he approached. Tears, warm on her cheeks. Traitor-- She'd been betrayed, lied to, called in. All he'd had to do was leave her alone, let her be so she didn't have to deal with it anymore. But no, he just had to stick his nose in.

He'd pay for it.

No

It was horrifying, realising she felt like a spectator in her own mind. Zoe wasn't used to feeling helpless. The part of her that understood was screaming to stop, but her rational mind had been pushed aside. So long. She'd gone so long without hurting. Needed it, needed to stop the want, more than anything. Waiting to pounce. Even now, he approached, speaking calmly, and she gave him no warning.

Why would she ruin her chance?

Don't please no

So arrogant, to assume she needed his help, needed anyone's fucking help. But he always did, always pretended he could fix everything and make it right on his own. Always saw the best in people. Sickening, how wrong he was. Oh, he wanted to help her, that was why he did it. Why he told. Why he lied. Why he betrayed her. Oh, she might not have admitted it, but a part of her wanted to see him hurt too, stigma or not.

Stop it

For her own good, wasn't it? Always for her own good, like they knew what she needed. Like they knew anything about what she was. Like they understood what was for the best because they could see the truth, when they didn't see anything at all. They never saw anything. He didn't see, not yet, but he would. Black across her hands. She could cry and scream and sob, but she knew what she was doing. This was the truth of what she was.

Run you have to run I'm sorry it's not me--

She'd make him see it all.


Zoe didn't even realise she was making a noise, as something that was half a scream and half an enraged yell escaped from her mouth. The fear, the agony, everything just hit her. She thought she could have made it through but that wasn't even close to being true anymore. It was too much, the memories so overwhelmingly real - She enjoyed it, didn't she - Her resolve had completely shattered and she stumbled backwards. Had to get away, had to run--

And suddenly she was falling as everything went dark.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Bubsy 2
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Bubsy 2

Member Seen 11 mos ago


i want to be somewhere else

9/14





9/15













9/16




???



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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Kyrisse
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Kyrisse

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Lilianna Brandt



𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕚𝕤𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕕, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕


Lily slipped away from Marcus and Callan and sat in the midst of the rubble the recently concluded battle left in its wake. Her form was small enough that it was easy to overlook her where she sat. She stared into space, her thoughts on her dead classmate. Small girl with golden hair. Just like her.

It could have easily been me. I could be the one being put in a body bag now.

But no. It couldn't be her.

She was away from the fighting, protected and safe just because she could heal.

Could I have done something more? If I arrived earlier, helped more, would she have died?

All your destructive powers wasted. That’s why she died. Because you weren’t there to kill those who killed her, the voices in her head were back again. And don’t even think you could have healed her. You’re not a healer. You bring pain and death. That’s all you are and all you’ll ever be.

Lily sighed and didn’t argue with the voices in her head this time. ”All I’ll ever be,” she repeated, her mood dropping low that she didn’t really care if she get left behind or get in trouble with Cat’s Cradle.

Useless in battle, useless in helping so called friends. That was why you were left behind half dead outside USARILN East, the voice in her head continued its goading.

The listless golden haired teen continued staring into nothing and letting the voices in her head bring her mood lower and lower. ”Useless and left behind,” she repeated to herslef. It was then that someone found her and brought her back the APC. She didn’t know who brought her back or who she rode with. She was too demoralized to pay any attention or even care.

She rode the APC in silence, lost in her thoughts, lost in the words her stigma kept on whispering. She paid little attention to what was happening around her. She didn’t even care when an IV needle was inserted into her hand and didn’t even bothering arguing that she was fine and tha the worst of the injuries she had she already transferred to her immortal team mate.

When they arrived at the hospital, the healer was put into a room by herself, just like how it was in USARILN East. She sighed and laid back on her bed, feeling the dizziness overwhelm her for a second. It didn't take long before she fell asleep, tiredness from the recent events ushering her into her usual nightmares.


September 15







September 16

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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Baklava
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Baklava

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Plenty of Wishes




Callan | Brent


𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟚𝟚𝟘𝟘
Collab with @Baklava @ERode


Sleep was a pipe dream at this point. Callan slid out of bed, setting her phone on the nightstand as she pulled the blanket off with her, gently tugging until the fabric had untucked itself from beneath the mattress. Dried blood and dirt didn't exactly keep her shoulders warm. She thought again, for the umpteenth time, of her hoodie and how quickly it had been vaporized by that monstrous machine. Pulling the blanket over her shoulders and the bottom portion of her hair, Callan took note of her room number and left, hoping to find a distraction from her thoughts. One that might last long enough for her come back and finally sleep.

Wandering out into the halls, she noticed the looks she got from several of the nurses as they edged by. She self-consciously held the blanket a tad closer to her face as she kept walking. There was no energy left to burn and yet she couldn't get to sleep.

Several minutes of mindless wandering later, Callan happened upon what she assumed might be the lobby. Or a lobby, considering it was on one of the higher floors. It was remarkably uncrowded and provided a stunning view of the stars through a high, glass ceiling. A few small trees-- were those real?-- stood upright amidst several park-style benches that offered a view of the small town outside of several more large windows. Relieved as well as awe-struck by the sight, Callan sighed and took a seat, tucking her feet up underneath her as she leaned on the armrest and stared out at the expanse of lights.

"You're a hard woman to find, Callan Webb."

A voice called out from the shadows of the atrium, a thin object poking out. A gun? No, a fruity kebab, held inbetween his clenched index and middle finger in the imitation of one. Leaning out of the way of a branch as he approached, Brent allowed a friendly smile to emerge as he offered it to the turquoise-haired supergirl.

Taking a seat beside her, he asked nonchalantly, "Had anything to eat yet?"

Callan bristled at the sudden, unfamiliar voice, swiveling her head towards the tall, athletic figure in the shadows. Oh. She sighed. Brent. Callan flashed a weary smile at his kebab-gun. She shifted into a more upright position as Brent moved to sit down next to her.

"Just some snacks, but that's alright," Callan chuckled weakly, "I'm sure you haven't been wandering around with a second kebab just for me. I can always bug the staff for a sandwich or something later."

"Actually," he replied, lifting up a bag that was still sorta full, "I've actually been wandering around with a hell lot more than that."

Like a peddler, he pulled out his wares once more, which composed largely of a couple of packaged tuna sandwiches and a box of definitely cold chicken before deciding that Callan didn't deserve to chew on that trash, and putting the cold chicken back in the bag.

"Eat up," the arbiter gestured, "I didn't brave the aisles of 7-11 in order to feed my fellow classmates only to get rejected at this stage, after all."

Callan sat up a little more as Brent displayed the contents of his bag. That was a lot of food. Was he going around delivering food to everybody? "Ok," she laughed incredulously, shaking her head as she accepted the kebab. "Definitely beats hospital food, so thanks. That's awfully generous of you." Maybe even too generous. She wasn't usually the suspicious type, but her interactions with Brent had so far left her wondering what the guy was all about. She turned the kebab over in her hand for a brief moment before modestly nibbling on a skewered strawberry.

"Am I your last stop then?" she asked between bites.

"Basically, yeah," Brent admitted, "Though I didn't get to make a visit to Hazel's place. Apparently, she's still unconscious or something."

"And don't worry about it. It's not like I worked for the money I just burnt through, right?" He scratched the back of his neck. "And it's not like there's anything more constructive to do here than be the delivery guy no one asked for."

Callan nodded somberly at the mention of Hazel’s name. Either she was unconscious or they weren’t letting people in. But that was only a guess. She’d barely caught a glimpse of the girl through the swarm of guards that surrounded her once they were all shuffled into the hospital.

Callan smiled, “I guess you’re right. Still— time spent when you could be doing literally anything else, though.” Another small bite. “Anyway— isn’t it kind of late? Aren’t you tired?

"Not like we're in USARILN, with all their gyms and their not-as-racist neighboring town and their lack of news reporters hunting for subs," he replied, glad that Callan was eating, if nothing else, "The motels don't even come with PCs, you know? And the TVs only show the news."

"So hey, in absence of all that I can't do, passing some time with my classmates is better than holing up in a room by myself, eh?"


He snorted at her comment about how late it was. "Mhmm, as if any teenager these days sleep before 12. Guess it differs from role to role, but I spent most of my time sitting on my ass. I'm more curious as to why you're up, considering all the work you put in."

Oh, that’s right. The news reporters. Callan had seen their vans lurking around outside. She was grateful she hadn’t had to deal with anything like that. Maybe if the fight had gone a bit better….

She shot him a weird look as he mentioned just sitting on his ass, but he seemed intent on finding out why she was still up. Callan laughed uncomfortably. All the work she put in? Yeah. All the brain dead work. He wasn’t wrong though.

Heh, I don’t usually turn in this early either. Ability seems to burn me out pretty quickly,” she shrugged, looking out the windows, “Can’t get to sleep for some reason.

Hoping to avoid being asked to elaborate on that, Callan quickly added, “Anyway, what do you mean you just sat on your ass? Seems like nobody would’ve had any idea what the hell was going on if you hadn’t been there.

"The price of being able to benchlift cars, I suppose," Brent said, turning his gaze skywards, towards the stars that were the same as the ones above USARILN East, above his home. "And you're right, but..."

He chose his next words carefully.

"...I can tell people what I see even while sitting on my ass."

And it wasn't like he did anything more than that. Nor was it like he didn't have the opportunity to do more.

"Looks like there's a clear sky tonight," he said, "You ever do much stargazing?"

Hm. At least you didn’t get anybody killed, Brent. The surprisingly dark thought faded as Brent shifted the subject towards the stars. Callan followed his line of sight.

I’ve tried. Can’t usually see them very clearly in a big city like Atlanta… you?

"Used to look for shooting stars all the time as a kid," he replied, "Stopped after I... don't remember when I stopped, actually."

He let his breathing slow, watching those transient, eternal lights from within the dim atrium.

"Recognize any constellations?"

"No way. Aren’t shooting stars supposed to be super rare?” Callan smiled tentatively. “As much as I ike stars, I know jack all about them."

"Mid July to early August," he replied, "Couldn't wait for it back as a kid, but the Perseids meteor shower is an annual event. Probably should have marked that date somewhere, cause I kept on forgetting about it until it was over."

A wistful gaze descended upon him, the day's activities finally taking its toll.

"Something to look forward to next year though. Got plenty of wishes stockpiled now."

Mid July to early August,” Callan repeated to herself. “Yeah— I’ll have to check it out…,” she grew quiet, feeling a little more optimistic. Lost in thought, she nearly forgot Brent was still there.

Wouldn’t have pegged you for an astrology nerd, Brent,” she teased.

"Please, Callan, were you too busy playing with your phone during classes to notice?" Brent grinned, "I don't just flex my biceps and chug protein shakes, you know? Gotta flex that gray matter too."

"And even meatheads like pretty things. Stars, flowers, clouds, lots of nice stuff in the world if you take the time to look around."


But he rarely did, even though he was aware of that. It couldn't improve him in any manner. Couldn't make a career out of it, couldn't make a degree out of it, couldn't make a life out of it.

His fists clenched, knuckles turning bone-white before that dislikeable emotion exhausted itself.

She laughed, “Probably was, to be honest. But hey, my grades are alright.” Callan slowly twirled the empty kebab stick between her fingers. Glancing at Brent, she noted the sudden fist clenching, figuring it was just a weird habit. He did look like he was thinking hard about something, though.

It’s kinda nice,” she spoke up, “Just focusing on the little things sometimes.” She was all too guilty of doing that a bit too much, but it seemed to help when the going got tough. “Er— well, I guess stars aren’t exactly small. But you get what I mean.

"Yeah, I do."

Only the box of stale, cold chicken remained, Callan finished with the sandwiches. He gave one last look at the stars up above, before turning to the superhuman.

"Hey, you up for a small adventure?"

She blinked back at him in surprise. "Uh." Amethyst eyes scanned the empty atrium, trying to guess at what Brent might have in mind, "N-now? What did you want to do?" Callan asked, curious as she was wary.

"Well, if you're not tired, was thinking of heading off to the rooftops," he said, "Do some exploring and get some fresh air."

"Can't see the moon from here, after all."


Callan recoiled a bit. The invitation was grossly reminiscent of one she’d heard before. She knew she shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because Brent gave off that ‘jock’ vibe didn’t mean he was inherently an asshole with a hidden agenda. Nonetheless, she hesitated.

Oh… uh. I don’t know, Brent,” she shrugged, trying to sound casual as she pulled her blanket a little tighter.

A flash of disappointment crossed his face, before being replaced by one of realization. Shit, did it sound like that? Aghhh...

"It's not like that," he said, an awkward half-smile forming, "though I did need you in particular. Was thinking of heading off to the roof and then having you throw me upwards as high as you could."

"With that blanket as a 'parachute'," Brent explained, "I was thinking of getting a nice view of everything. Still got too much energy to burn through, and..."

He wanted to cap off the night with something exciting.

"...yeah...it's fine if you don't want to though. Seeing how superstrength mode just makes you more tired and all."

Callan's eyebrows shot up as Brent went on to explain, tossing all her preconceived notions out the window about as hard as he possibly could. Was he serious?

"That...," she furrowed her brow, thinking for a moment before shaking her head with yet another incredulous laugh, "sounds insanely dangerous, Brent."

"Uh. If you want to go check out the roof, I guess I'll go with you, but I'd like to avoid potentially throwing anyone out of the ozone."

"Probably would need a couple more pieces to pull this off well, yeah," Brent admitted, glad that he had, at the very least, shifted her perception of him from 'this dude's a creeper' to 'this dude is a madman'. "And hey, is your throwing strength currently either 0 or ozone, Callan? Nothing inbetween?"

"Oh, no," Callan stood up and stretched, "It's more that I sometimes have trouble gauging my strength. Er-- like that day with Kusari... for example."

"St-" Still? Brent stopped himself before he could go there. Callan's 'magic' was super strength, and it was an absurd amount of it as well. He had no idea how long she had such power, and thus...

A month may not be nearly enough to adjust to that.

"Well, perhaps I'll visit outer space another time then. Gotta consider the Gs as well," the arbiter replied with a laugh. "Have you been getting progressively stronger or something?"

"Uh," Callan considered her ability's most recent development, a sour frown spreading across her face, "No. Not really."

She hadn't spared much thought towards the change she sensed in Misery. Of course, she hadn't pulled the abomination out to check. Not with so many people around-- somebody would get hurt. She'd have to save that mystery for later.

"That's pretty good then," he replied, "Easier to get a handle on your strength if it stays consistent and all."

A pause.

"What was that black thing though? The one that made you fall?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Callan mused, thoughtfully considering his point.

"Oh, that?" she smiled, feeling just about as keen on showing it off as she had at Ground Zero, "I'll have to show you on the roof. Might get everyone in a panic if I start pulling giant hammers out of the ground in here."

"Giant hammers? Oh geez, you have a materialization power too now?" There was a tinge of jealousy in his voice, buried beneath the surprise and enthusiasm. What sort of theme even was this, that she got both massively superhuman stats AND the power to summon weapons.

"Guess we'll head off on an adventure after all!"

Hopping off the seat, Brent gathered up the garbage and tossed it into the plastic bag, intent on carrying it until there was a trash can to dispose of it in.

"Heh, yeah. Guess so..." Materialization was one term for it. Shifting the form of a ferocious monster into a heavy-as-hell weapon would be another.

The pair eventually found a stairwell that led all the way up to the roof. A heavy lock secured the door, but one silver jolt of static later, it was open. Approaching their destination, the scene still felt somewhat uncomfortable in spite of Brent's earlier explanation. Though whether it was because she was outside alone with a guy late at night or because this was almost as high as that helicopter had been when it exploded-- she wasn't entirely sure.

"Alright," she said resolvedly, balling up the blanket she'd brought with her and setting it aside, "Here we go." Bracing herself for the inevitable increase in weight, Callan crouched down to begin pulling the long shaft of the hammer from her shadow. Dark smoky tendrils squirmed reluctantly as they had before. With a visible snap, the weapon solidified and her body dipped, arms straining to keep it off the ground.

"Yep. There it is," she said through grit teeth. She was really feeling the exhaustion from earlier now.

"Woah...some sort of shadow magic?" Brent looked at the hammer, definitely impressed by just how...wait, what? Callan, the girl who benched one thousand pounds like it was nothing actually had to exert herself in order to keep it off the ground?

"Wait, how heavy even is this thing?" He asked, curiosity piqued. "And is it like...just a hammer? Or can you turn it into something else as well?"

"Uh-- can't give you any numbers, but it's pretty damn heavy," she strained, "I can turn it into just about any melee weapon, but the weight always stays the same.[/color]"

"Any melee weapon imaginable?" Brent whistled. "So...have you tried extending it super fast? Like a pile driver?"

Callan thought for a moment, looking down at the weapon. "No, I haven't. I'm not sure how that'd work out. You want me to give it a try?"

"Yeah," he reasoned, taking a step back, "Just because it's a melee weapon doesn't mean it can't also become a ranged weapon. While you're at it, see if you can extend it to a realllllly long distance."

Pivoting away from Brent for extra safety, Callan nodded and started to focus, concentrating hard on the form she wanted it to take. Omitting any fancy details, she tried to do so quickly. The shape writhed back into its originally unstable form just before the shape of the hammer's head stretched forward, snapping back into solid form. Now holding a rod that measured out to nearly 3 meters, the longer end immediately fell in spite of Callan's best efforts to keep it up.

The entire transformation lasted roughly a second or two-- a little slower than Callan was hoping for. Slower than a pile driver anyway.

Three meters maximum, at a rate that was fairly fast, but not fast enough.

It was not disappointment that emerged, but relief. At such a speed, her weapon couldn't be used as 'projectile' after all. It couldn't be used as something that could take the gargoyle by surprise and instantly kill her before she could snap Sav's neck.

There wasn't any sort of horrible miscommunication that occurred that tossed away a method of quickly saving that blonde aberration.

"Wow, that's seriously cool," he beamed, all smiles, "Now you're like Superman and Green Lantern fused, Callan! Think this would work well as a shield as well? Or did you never put its durability up to the test?"

If only. "No, I haven't actually," Callan replied. Geez, she hadn't really given much thought to any of the stuff. "Might as well find out." Concentrating again, the shadow rod snapped into the form of a round shield. The awkward shape turned out to be too difficult for her to hold and one end suddenly slipped out of her grasp, landing squarely on her foot.

Callan froze for a moment as the pain spiked, the color draining from her face while the heavy black shield remained stubbornly in place despite her reflexive effort to pull her foot out from under it. Regaining her sense, she quickly desummoned the ridiculously heavy shield and fell down onto one knee, gripping the offended foot with both hands. "Ow," she croaked, folding over herself as a shudder ran through her.

She could immediately tell that nothing was broken, but it still throbbed fierce.

Brent's own toes instinctively curled as the shadowy shield slipped out of her grasp, smashing into the dark skinned girl's foot. By some miracle, the roof itself hadn't given in from the sudden impact or weight, and once the shadows disappeared, he ran over, not sure what he could overclock to ice the injury.

"Shit, are you alright?" he asked, kneeling, "Anything broken? Gah, shouldn't have asked you to do so much when you were already tired. Real sorry about that."

Ngh,” Callan winced massaging the top of her foot through her dirty tennis shoes, “Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s broken.” She flashed Brent a reassuring smile, “Did you want to see anything else?

"No, I think this is fine for now," he said, "But really, it's amazing what sort of options you have! You can get yourself a wide shield to protect everyone behind you, a sharp weapon to massively increase how much damage you can do, or even just create platforms with it by pinning it to a wall or something!"

Amethyst eyes gazed skywards, before two different ideas clicked.

"Imagine how badass it'd be if Chris like, flew you up super high, you turned your shadow thing into a pyramid, and then jumped off! The Cal-ris Meteor Impact combo!"

Brent seemed lost in a world of his own as he rambled off several different uses for her new shadow trick. Her mind reeled for a moment, considering how each idea could work and how she might go about executing each one. Her train of thought faltered as he mentioned Chris flying her up real high so she could jump off. She wasn’t too keen on experiencing something like that free fall from the helicopter again, but she said nothing. Admitting that heights still made her nervous despite her extra durability seemed like quite a step back from all the praise she was suddenly getting—whether she felt it was entirely deserved or not.

She shrugged and laughed, pushing herself back onto her feet, “Sounds like you got it all figured out. I've only been able to summon that thing since this morning, so I'm still kinda figuring out how it works."

"Ah, makes sense then," Brent replied, his smile faltering momentarily. Given just an extra day, would their chances of DOING something dramatically improve? No, not even that. If he had known about that new change in Callan's power, if she had something like that and he had spent his time with the Strikers instead of with Grego, could they have figured out a way to destroy Factory much more effectively?

And if they destroyed Factory that fast, the Strikers could have returned just as fast, and perhaps those rogue subnaturals would be handled much more effectively. Maybe those subnaturals wouldn't even have had an opening if it was Chris, Sander, and Callan guarding the Evac truck as it drove back to the drop off point.

But 'what ifs' were meaningless. He recalled his own words that he had thrown at Angelic. Regrets about the past should only be used as fuel for the future.

"Well, at least you have a starting point for your investigations now," Brent said, offering Callan a hand to pull herself up, "Guess trying to push the limits of new things is just what I'm used to. Can't get complacent if your powers are super versatile, after all."

He was forcing himself.

"Cause the more prepared you are, the more scenarios you can effectively respond to!"

The more lives you can save.

But you still can't win.

Callan stared. For a moment she almost wondered if Brent was hinting at something, but she brushed it off as paranoia. She wasn’t even sure he’d seen what happened. Even if he had, he hadn’t brought it up and she sure as hell wasn’t going to.

She gave a small smile, shifting her gaze towards the sparse assemblage of city lights below. “Yeah. I’m definitely due for some more practice when we all get back.

"Give me a heads up when you are then," he replied, "Considering how fast our powers seem to be growing, it's probably a good idea to keep track of these upgrades, you know? Know all the pieces on your board and all."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Callan nodded, though she knew she definitely wouldn't be sharing anything about her most recent 'upgrade' any time soon. Feeling the creeping guilt of her dishonesty, she kept her eyes on the town lights. "Sure thing."

"Awesome." Brent nodded. "Guess we should head down now though...unless you changed your mind about sending me off into the stratosphere?"

Callan scoffed, picking up her blanket before making her way back towards the stairs, "Sorry, Brent. No space exploration for you."

"No space exploration?" He grinned goodnaturedly. "I'll take that as a 'for now', thank you very much."

"Yeah. Don't hold your breath," she smirked.

The walk back to Callan's room was riddled with similar pleasantries. Between the awkward passings of anxious hospital staff, the conversation wound its way to hobbies. The emblem on Callan's shirt was barely visible through the bloodstains, but Brent evidently had no trouble recognizing it.

"Yep! I played power forward," Callan boasted confidently, "I'm pretty good at it, too. Or at least I was... Haven't really tried shooting around since the whole super strength thing started. What about you? You have a sport, right?"

"I like them all, really. Recently picked up kickboxing with Angelic. If I were to pick something I'm particularly interested in though...I really wanted to try the decathlon."

"Apparently if you won first place in that, you'd be known as the greatest athlete, you know?"





"Alright, well this is my stop!" Callan declared with a tired sigh. She hadn't been expecting it, but she was glad she ran into Brent when she did. The loop that had been playing in her head over and over again had been sufficiently numbed by the distraction.

"Yeah," Brent waved, "It's been a nice talk, Call. Get a good rest, eh?"

"I'll do my best," she grinned, "You get some rest, too."

"Night then," he replied, walking off.

Was he really going to just walk it off? Brisk steps brought him further away, but his fists remained clenched, his mind boiling beneath the happiness and energy he displayed. Callan was a good person. She could laugh, went along with his unreasonable requests, and carried a conversation fairly well, even though they were more or less strangers. She too displayed a degree of gratitude towards his own actions during that day's battle, and, no doubt, she'd rather let her own wounds scab over and disappear rather than remain fresh.

Hell, she lost an arm during that fight, which was much more than what he lost, ever.

So he held back, just a little bit. At an intersection in the hallway, Brent stopped and turned.

"Hey Call? It wasn't your fault." She fucking barreled into the gargoyle and broke Sav's neck. "....but you could have done better."

His lips curled in self-loathing as he walked off. That wasn't necessary. God, that wasn't necessary.

But, once more, Brent felt like he had burned down a bridge.

And, once more, Brent wasn't wholly certain if he minded.

Callan turned away from the door as Brent addressed her. Her breathing stopped for a moment as any semblance of a smile immediately faded away. Though he hadn't said so, she thought she could feel it in his tone. He'd known her.

The idea of saying nothing came to mind, but she found that to be grossly unappealing. If Brent had been Savannah's friend, then he deserved a proper apology. "Brent..." she said, not quite loud enough.

"Brent!" she took several hurried steps after him.

Don't. He didn't need her to chase him, didn't need her to apologize or whatever else. He just nee-

He couldn't even cry for Sav! He wasn't the one that Callan should be apologizing to! Sophia must have been hit way harder by that! He hadn't even seen her outside the motel!

Brent pressed on. Callan was fast. She could outpace him in an instant. But he was accustomed to losing, and he would try anyways.

He didn't pause for even a second. A lump rose in her throat when she realized he wasn't going to stop at all. For a second she picked up the pace as well, but stopped herself. She wasn't going to force him to listen to her, but the apology welling up inside still felt like it needed to come out somehow. She apologized to Marcus, but it wasn't enough.

She wasn't done. Everyone needed to know. They needed to know how truly sorry she was. Or perhaps she just wanted them to know.

But even if she did apologize to Brent, it wouldn't fix anything. Savannah was dead and Brent was right. She not only should've done better-- she COULD have done better. And that was the worst part of all.

"I'm sorry," she said anyway-- too quiet for him to hear. I'm sorry. The phrase was back on repeat, but Brent's words stung sharply in the foreground. He must've been holding that in the whole time they'd been talking. Was that why he'd sought her out in the first place?

Despair was deafening. Even the fluorescent lighting almost seemed darker than it was before. Without another word, she stared after Brent until he rounded another corner and disappeared from view.

I'm sorry.

She ran back to her room.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Baklava
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Baklava

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𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕚𝕤𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕕, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / ~𝟚3𝟘𝟘





Rushing back into the cold, empty hospital room, Callan made a beeline for the bathroom. Thick tears rolled off her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away, spurred further by the creeping feeling that if she sank any lower, Misery would take advantage. She had to stop. Had to stop thinking about it.

Throwing open the shower curtain and stepping inside, Callan found the blue notch by the nozzle and spun it to full blast. The freezing cold water made her gasp and flinch, but she forced herself to stay. She tried to focus on the unpleasantness of the cold, running her hands over the goosebumps on her arms as they appeared. She had to move on. No more moping around. Letting things like that get to her… it wouldn’t help. She’d do better next time. She would. She had to.

Callan peeled the sopping wet clothes from her body—grimacing through chattering teeth and broken sobs as the old, congealed blood sent red streaks racing down the drain. She started scrubbing. The impromptu hand washing turned out to be more frustrating than she thought it would be. She had to be gentle to make sure she didn’t tear her only set of clothes into shreds, but they needed a good amount of force to get somewhat clean. The water ran red for a while. A grim reminder of how much blood she’d lost today.

It was disturbing….

Callan set her jaw and rang out the clothes, hanging them over the towel rack. Had to move on. Couldn’t afford to keep thinking about it. No more breakdowns. She hurriedly set to work on her hair, dumping the entirety of the small sample-sized shampoo/conditioner bottle into her palm.

Think. Think about something else. Anything else.



It took almost an hour of tireless blow drying, but Callan finally managed to get her clothes dry enough to wear. It felt good to finally slip into the warmed fabric, even if it didn’t feel as clean as it could be. Exhausted, she finally crawled into bed, curling up beneath the blanket as she kept her mind occupied with such memories until sleep finally whisked her away. If only it’d taken her somewhere more pleasant.

The broken city of Wisford surrounded her once again, vacant of all the corpses she’d seen. Harsh gusts of wind kicked up dirt and made everything seem partially lost in a haze, but she could still make out the form of a small person in the distance. She called out to them, asking if they needed help, but her voice seemed lost in the harsh breeze.

It didn’t take too many steps for her to realize who it was. Blonde hair. Honey gold eyes. And a sharp, deranged bend to her neck. Callan stared as if she was seeing it for the first time. Horror suddenly gave way to sheer terror as the broken body tried to sit up. Head rolling to the side at an impossible angle, Callan backed up rapidly as the girl looked up at her, lips moving soundlessly.

“I’m sorry,” Callan whispered pleadingly. Backing away, she felt herself bump into someone. Someone several inches taller. Spinning around, Callan recognized the auburn hair in an instant. The girl turned a piercing gaze towards her for a moment before glancing down at Callan’s hand. Callan followed her line of sight and gasped. Her fingertips were being blown away like sand. Panic overcame her as the flesh and bone kept crumbling away.

Stop,” she gasped again. “Stop…! STOP!

Zoe smiled and walked away, but Callan barely saw as she dropped to her knees and grabbed at her shortening stump of an arm, trying to keep everything in place. Keep it together. She couldn’t leave yet. She had to stay here. There were still people that needed her. She could help. She could!

Suddenly remembering that her arm had only been taken from the elbow down, she tried to find some solace in knowing it would stop. But then it didn’t. The hand trying to keep the pieces together began to rot away as well. Eating straight through her pants, a large portion of her leg was starting to fall away. She opened her mouth to scream before suddenly waking up to find herself drenched in cold sweat.

Callan sat up and ran her hands over her face-- massaging her eyes and trying again to forget.



She didn't fall asleep again that night.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by banjoanjo
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Suspicions, Snacks and Sportswear




Ernie | Callan



𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ℍ𝕠𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕝 / / ~𝟙𝟙𝟙𝟘
Collab with @Baklava and @banjoanjo


The Aberration adjusted his beanie once more before opening the door to let his voice in. He supposed that the polite thing to do would have been to knock, but he only remembered it after it was too late.

"Heyo, Cal? Can I come in?"

"Ernie? Yeah, go ahead." Callan recognized the voice and smiled, standing up from her seat to stretch. She was mildly surprised at how happy she was to see him. Because he'd listened to her that time? Because he didn't know about what happened with Savannah? Whatever it was, it was a distinctly less awkward than it had been when Emma first arrived. Her eyes lit up as Ernie entered, immediately noticing the change in his appearance.

"Whoa my god. Did you shave your head?" Callan asked, tilting her head to the side to get a better view.

Her bright smile prompted one of his own, and he felt a small pang of guilt for assuming the worst of her. Hazel eyes took a good look at the girl, particularly her arms. Yep, she still had two of them. That was good. His brow furrowed at Cal's attire but he chose to ignore it for the moment.

"Yeah, did it myself," he scratched his head as if to show it off, "It got pretty messed up at Wisford. I don't think I'd be able move on if there were still traces of it on me."

"Heh," Callan scoffed jokingly, "It took me a while to wash out all that stuff, too. Hospital shampoo is bogus. Think I'll skip the haircut, but it looks good on you."

"Haha, yeah, you should keep your hair, it's pretty. It was just my inner neat freak telling me I needed to lop mine's off."

It was high time for him to give it up with that hairstyle too. He hadn't gotten what he wanted out of it. It was silly to hope for more.

"Thanks, though. I'm glad you like it. Angelique said it looked cool too. Said I should get muscles and tattoos to complete the look," he giggled at the last statement.

Callan laughed at the mental image. It felt good. Less forced. Maybe she had her chat with Emma to thank for that. She still felt tired and the weight of yesterday was far from gone... but it felt good to laugh. It always felt good to laugh.

"How've you been?" she asked, her tone slightly more serious, "Everything okay?"

Honestly? Not really. His gaze kept flicking to her arms while his mind kept returning to that article.

"Well, my head feels a lot colder now, so there's that," he joked weakly, "Nah, I'm kidding. I...got out in one piece, I guess. Pretty much unscathed compared to others I've heard about."

His mental state was a whole 'nother question though. Ernie pointed another stare at Cal, trying but very much failing to stop looking at her arms.

"You?"

Right. 'One piece'. Callan suddenly noticed the looks thrown at her arm and she immediately held it out for him to see, running her hand along the unmarked skin. Since she'd washed up, there was no evidence anything had ever happened at all.

"Uh. yeah. I'm... I'm fine. Lily and Kusari fixed me up. Good as new."

Ernie took this chance to inspect it closely. A completely seamless heal. It put his mind at ease, but also brought his attention to the other healer in this class. So Lily was an incredibly strong healer too, huh?

"I...bumped into Emma outside. She was the one who told me about it."

His expression went dark. He didn't want to see friends getting hurt.

"I didn't even know until just before. Couldn't even be there to help. Was it Factory? One of those X-marked fuckers?"

Oh shit. He didn't know either. Callan looked visibly uncomfortable as she retracted her arm. "Uh." She hadn't told Kusari... but that was before she spoke with Zoe. Maybe it was best that people knew. They'd probably find out anyway. "Not exactly...."

"Uhm," she folded her arms tightly and tried to remember how Zoe had explained it. Not that it really mattered. It wasn't going to sound good either way. "She said she was trying to get at the gargoyle chick, but... she was just a little out of range. So... she said she needed to...," she trailed off, gripping one arm a little tighter. Hopefully the rest was obvious.

"Range?" Ernie raised an eyebrow, having no clue what she was talking about. If this mystery girl was attacking the gargoyle... "Wait, it was one of us?"

Agh-- she'd thought about the explaination so hard, she forgot to give the name. "Zoe," Callan said finally.

There was silence as he took in the name. Ernie's face remained neutral, but an unusual, cold fury flared in him. It only lasted an almost unbearable few seconds, thankfully, and he was eager to leave that murky feeling behind.

First Cal, now Zoe? How many more people were going to betray his opinion of them? At least Zoe's turn was believable because of her X-mark. But...Zoe? Really? That gruff but noble(ish) teammate? Ernie couldn't help but recall her offer to take responsibility for David. Even before that, the brief time all three of them had spent at Ground Zero together.

Guess monsters and fakers followed him wherever he went.

And to think that he had mistaken her ruthlessness for badassery. To think that he'd respected her because she had seemed like a 'real Aberration' to him at the time. All those fucking months at West had made him go soft. X-marks were despicable, he'd forgotten that. The title of 'real Aberration' wasn't a mark of honor. It was a fucking warning sign.

"That's not an excuse, Cal," Ernie glowered, "You shouldn't have to defend her."

Surprised by Ernie's tone and accusation, Callan's eyes widened and she spoke up quickly, "Oh, I'm not. That's just what she told me. I... I seriously almost bled out I think." She chuckled uncomfortably, hoping to bring the mood back up while doing her best not to remember the searing pain coupled with a sudden drop in temperature.

Almost bled out. "Jesus, that's garbage."

So she'd actually explained herself to Cal. Probably came with an apology too. Not a complete monster after all, though the bar was being set very low here.

"At least she didn't blame it all on her Stigma or whatever. That one's up there with the most bullshit things a mage could pull."

He was speaking from experience, of course.

Surprised again. "Oh-- really?" Callan asked, her curiousity piqued again.

Ack. Maybe he said too much. Ernie looked to the ceiling, gauging whether or not he could explain it to an Arbiter.

"Well, it's just that... the whole 'losing control' thing. Yeah, it happens for real. Often, for some people. Hell, even during the Wisford mission, Hazel went nuts and started trying to kill us. It happens. But--man, how do I say this--there are times when it's just an explanation and not an excuse, especially when it happens over and over again. And when keeps happening..."

Ernie's expression suddenly turned sad. He was clearly remembering something difficult.

"Makes you wonder if they're even trying to fight the Stigma. Maybe they're just using it as a convenient excuse to be a dickbag and they've just been a garbage person the entire time. Stigmas are different between everyone so there's never any real way to tell if they're lying or not. Heh, I've probably hung around too many X's to have any real faith in them. But it sounds like Zoe actually tried to make it up with an explanation that didn't include her Stigma. A stupid explanation, but that's already better than some people I knew. Ah, I probably shouldn't rag on about my fellow Abes too much for their lack of control."

A quick glance at Cal before he looked away again.

"I've heard stories of Arbiters losing it too. Might just be an unlucky power thing in their case but they've got even less of an excuse than the X's."

Callan listened intently, ruefully noting the somber expression that came across Ernie's face while he explained. Damn it, why did she have to ask? She'd opened her mouth without thinking-- again. Similar to Emma, however, she found Ernie's explaination on stigmas to be even more interesting. He certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. Thinking back to her meeting with Zoe, she recalled her regret at having spoken so out of turn. She'd been talking about things she didn't understand. She still didn't think Zoe had been in the right-- but this did definitely give her something to think about.

At Ernie's final statement, Callan seemed surprised for a third time. Unfortunately, her mind didn't immediately make the proper connection. "Wow," she said, genuinely intrigued. "Glad I don't have anything like that last one," she smiled tentatively, "I'd be more like a tiny Hulk than Wonder Woman, wouldn't I?"

She sighed, smiling apologetically, "Sorry for making you explain. I didn't mean to make you upset. I heard Stigmas are different for everybody. I can't pretend to know what Zoe's deal is, but uh... maybe I'll figure it out sometime." Unlikely to happen anytime soon, but Callan was hoping to brighten up the mood. She didn't want to stand around and talk about depressing topics the whole time. Especially not with Ernie. They'd done plenty of that yesterday.

Ernie paused, a harsh stare piercing Cal for the briefest moment.

"You're a fucking liar."

But he returned to his usual grin flawlessly. Any resentful questions were to be asked sometime else, not while Cal could still snap him like a twig. Like she had done with her home.

"Hey, I thought I got dibs on the Wonder Woman title, with the magic rope and all! And it's no problem. You deserve to know, after everything that's happened. I just hope I actually helped out, even a little bit."

The giftbag was lifted for the two of them to peruse. A convenient change in subject.

"Anyway, I got you some stuff. Wasn't sure what to buy so I just got a bit of everything."

"Wow, seriously?" Callan grinned in spite of herself. First the stuff from Marcus, then flowers, and now all this? She... seriously didn't deserve it. Not even a little bit. But even so, it made her happy-- way too happy. For a moment she almost forgot all about Wisford and Factory and Savannah and Zoe.

"Thank you," she said sincerely before peeking inside. All at once, Zoe's words from earilier came rushing back like an unwelcome guest.

'You're the one that's treating everything like it's some kind of fucking fairytale.'

She needed to keep things in perspective... but it was so much easier to temporarily forget. She wasn't treating anything like it was a fairytale. She was just trying to be optimistic....

'We're not as different as you think we are.'

The second part of Zoe's words brought with it some clarity. Something she should have considered before she made foolish statements to Ernie. Arbiters? Losing it? A brief and sudden panic boiled up inside her and she paused for a moment too long as she stared into the bag, looking but not seeing.

"Geez, thank me after you confirm that I actually got you some good stuff. Buying presents is stressful," Ernie smirked but his heart wasn't in it. He didn't notice Callan's hesitation. The desire to get out of there was strong and it took all he had to force himself to stay put, "Maybe I should've gotten you some clothes as well. Isn't that the same stuff you were wearing yesterday?"

"Please. This stuff looks great. It's the thought that counts anyway, right?" she answered, brushing her previous thoughts aside. She was just being paranoid. Callan frowned as Ernie pointed out her clothes. "Ugh, I tried to wash them in the sink last night," she admitted, looking down at her shirt as she tugged at the bottom hem, "I didn't have a spare set and those hospital gowns are, uh. Kinda drafty."

Ernie's mouth fell open, his expression portraying equal amounts of worry and horror. Any wariness he'd felt fell away at the mention of that awful laundry job.

"Yeeaaaahhh, I'm getting you something else to wear. Are you good enough to go shopping or should I just buy something and pray?"

Callan chuckled with some discomfort. W-was her DIY wash job really that bad? She sighed through her nose. Seemed she couldn't avoid clothes shopping forever. But it was just Ernie and it was only one set of clothes. Wearing something that was actually clean would be nice, too. "Uhm. Nah, I can go myself and get something. I brought my... oh," she frowned, "No... I totally didn't bring my wallet."

" 'Didn't bring'? But how were you gonna-- Ah, never mind. I'll spot you this time. Five hundred bucks a month builds up real well after a few months."

Ernie stood and adjusted his scarf.

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't have any way to cover your mark, would you? The Regulars here aren't very...friendly."

"My mark?" Callan touched her fingertips to the white stained stripe of skin beneath her eye. He wanted her to cover it up? The idea felt foreign to her. Not that she'd never heard of subnaturals hiding their marks-- she'd just never considered doing it herself. Callan hadn't given much thought to the people they might run into while they were out, either. But if it would help them avoid another nosy photographer incidient, it was probably worth looking into.

How was she supposed to hide it, though?

"Hang on." Callan stepped into the bathroom and attempted to part her hair to the other side. Through all the poorly conditioned curls, her hair wasn't being nearly as cooperative as it could have been had she used her product from home. But she managed to get her bangs to fall over the correct half of her face. Enough to cover up the mark so long as she didn't make any sharp movements.

"Hm," she frowned into the mirror. This definitely wasn't going to be enough. "I think I saw a Walgreens across the street?" she said to Ernie, "We could head over there real quick. Maybe you could run in and get some cover up for me?"

"Yeah, no prob. Just give me the brand and I'll get it."

"Great. I usually get the NARS brand concealer," Callan said as she pulled on her tennis shoes-- things she was unfortunately unable to fully submerge in water, though the obviously once-white shoes seemed as though as were due for retirment instead of a good washing. "There should be one that says 'caramel'."

With a quick nod Ernie left, returning with Callan's requested concealer, a second concealer that matched the boy's skin tone, and pack of cough lozenges.

"They taste better when you're not actually sick," he explained as he popped one into his mouth, "Feels like I'm breaking the rules a little."

Callan picked through the bag Ernie had brought her while she waited, snacking on some chips and using the opportunity to think on what Ernie had said about stigmas and Arbiters losing control.

A fluke.

Maybe that was the best way to describe what was wrong with her ability. Perhaps it wouldn't be a terrible idea to ask Ernie more questions about that later. Remembering Lawrence's surprise at seeing an Arbiter asking for help, she figured it couldn't have been very common. She still wasn't entirely sure that even applied to her at all, right?

When Ernie returned, Callan quickly set to work on covering up the mark. There was an odd sense of nostalgia to it-- seeing her face in the mirror without it there. She hadn't had it for very long, yet it already felt like such an integral part of her. She smirked sideways at Ernie as he tossed the medicine into his mouth "Next you'll tell me skittles can cure a sore throat," she teased, heading for the door.

"Aw man, I wish!"

The friends left the hospital largely unnoticed, save for the usual glances that would follow a head of aquamarine hair in a small town. Ernie kept his eyes out for any nosy journalists but his mind was still mulling over the questions he had about the article.

Slowly. Tentatively.

"So, where you from?"

"Atlanta," Callan answered easily after a quick sip of the orange juice Ernie had brought her. "You?"

"Reno. Real far from here, huh?" Ernie smiled. A good start but he needed more confirmation, "I actually knew a guy who grew up in Atlanta. What part of the city did you live?"

"Oh cool," Callan commented, "Eastish (EAST, YA FOOL) side of town. Decatur County. Sound familiar?"

Decatur was in the Dekalb from the article. Lined up with what he'd researched the night before. More confirmation. "Uh, yeah. Sounds about right."

Hm, how was he gonna broach this?

"Tell me about Atlanta. Is it big? Quiet?"

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty huge. Lots of people. Hot and humid. Uh... what do you mean by quiet?"

"Well, Reno always had plenty of rumours of subnaturals running around," Thanks to a certain faction lurking in the area, "The occasional monster attack on the far outskirts and stuff, though I've heard that they're not as big a problem on the West Coast as before, compared to East anyway. I was just wondering if eastern cities were the same."

"Hmm," Callan pressed the lip of her juice bottle to her mouth and thought for a moment. For some reason, the inkling of paranoia she'd felt earlier was trying to resurface. She tossed it out of her mind as she continued, "I can't speak for all the eastern cities, but Atlanta's always had a reputation of being very safe and well protected. So yeah-- you could say it's quiet in that way. Totally."

So no monster attacks. No houses mysteriously getting crushed. He'd have to do more research later to double check but Cal's answers had definitely added to that sense of dread staining his insides.

"Sounds cozy. It'd be nice to not have to worry about those things for a change."

Ernie looked around as they entered the shopping district. That would be enough probing for the moment.

Callan was silent for a moment before answering. That burning itch in the back of her head just wouldn't fade out. There was no way. Ernie wouldn't snoop through her phone. But... why couldn't she let it go?

Though her concerns still gnawed at her, Callan did her best to keep the conversation light.

"Yeah. It was...." her voice trailed off, "Uh-- so you got an idea of where we're going?"

Her hesitancy was noticed. Definitely the time to stop. His gaze shifted back to the numerous townsfolk doing their shopping and Ernie felt his nervous hand adjust his scarf habitually. Crowds of Regulars had never been a fun ride for an Aberration like him.

"It's your clothes we're looking for," he looked at her reassuringly, "You should lead the way."

"Heh," Callan was relieved to hear that Ernie didn't seem intent on spending much time shopping. "In that case, help me scope out a Sports Authority or something."

It wasn't long before they came across a sporting goods store with a name Callan recognized. She made a beeline for the section riddled with an assortment of hoodies, jackets, and sweat pants. She was remarkably confident in knowing the exact brands and sizes she needed, grabbing a deep blue nike hoodie and gray pants along with a fresh pair of tennis shoes, socks, compression shorts, and a sports bra. Quite a lengthy list of items to have acquired in such a short amount of time.

"Alright-- I think I'm set," she smiled, running her hands through the basket of items hanging from her arm, "Thank for spotting me, by the way. You'll have to let me repay the favor when we get back."

As she laid out the invitation, Callan suddenly recalled her conversation with Emma. She inwardly swatted the stray thought away like a strange scent, still smiling as she led the way towards the register.

"Ooh! Pay me back with something good then, yeah?"

The bored-looking cashier scanned the items as Ernie kept an eye on the price. Huh, that was more stuff than he was expecting. Did Cal need pants AND shorts? He decided not to mind it too much. She was going to return the favor and besides, it was his own fault for volunteering his card. Speaking of which...

"Um..." the cashier stared at the ID card in her hand, the one with the USARILN East crest and the profile photo clearly displaying the X on his neck. Her eyes flickered between the card and Ernie's scarf. The boy shifted awkwardly.

Fuck. How did he forget? Something between fear and irritation began creeping down his spine. That familiar anger.

He needed to get away from it.

"It's debit," he said quickly, trying hard to smile. The aggressive approach hadn't worked that Regular the night before. Luckily, the cashier caught his drift and the transaction was complete in no time. "Come on, Cal, we need to go."

Ernie rushed out of the store with the shopping bag in hand, his destination being far from the little block of shops. He didn't bother turning back to see if Cal was actually following him.

Callan noted the sudden shift in the air as their cover was inevitably blown. She hurried after Ernie in silence, contemplating the strange divide between 'regulars' and mages as they moved. She was already aware of what Kusari thought about them and Ernie seemed visibly agitated by the encounter just now. She had to wonder why.

"Did something happen yesterday?" Callan asked somewhat vaguely once she figured they were a safe enough distance away, remembering his comment about the regulars here not being so friendly.

Ernie paused, taking in the number of townspeople still milling around the area. Still too many. He hated hiding like this.

"Did Marc tell you about the convenience store last night? I almost fucked everything by acting like an idiot. Didn't want to start a pattern here, I guess."

Oh… no, he didn’t,” Callan muttered, recalling the less pleasant portions of her conversation with Marcus last night. She tried to decipher what exactly Ernie was implying, but figured it was probably best to leave it alone. If it was anything major, she probably would've seen it on the news.

Well, I think we’re all set for now anyway. You wanna head back to the motel? I’m kinda curious to see what sort of ritzy place they put you guys up in.

"Ritzy isn't quite the word I'd use for it," Ernie frowned as he recalled the hot water debacle from the night before. And the unwanted guests lurking outside, "Oh yeah, there are a lotta news guys and cameras and stuff around the motel. Hovering bastards."

Another look around.

"Didn't know if you wanted your face on TV when there's a good chance your home-friends could see it. I can get us past them if you want."

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God— I didn’t even think of that,” she said fearfully, glancing around as if a news crew might spring out of some nearby bushes, “What’s your plan?

Ernie scratched his head. Fire escape could be a bad route after Brent's hilarious dealings with the journalists. Though the Arbiter had proposed another escape method that night, even if it had been a joke...

The boy flashed a wicked grin at Cal.

Ten minutes later, the pair were on the roof of the motel's main building, brushing off the dirt from their mini adventure. Ernie's face was cramping from how much he was beaming throughout that whole ordeal.

"God, we seriously need to try that again when we get back to the school," Ernie laughed heartily.

Callan laughed along, her voice a little shaky as she pushed her hair out of her face. "Right. Maybe without the toaster oven next time."

The roof entrance door was chained up tight-- a barrier that was easy enough for Callan to bypass. "I feel like such a delinquent," she groaned, trying not to completely destroy the door and lock in the process.

"Whaaa... you've never done a break-in before? It's a handy skillset to have," Ernie remarked, the giddiness from the impromptu flight handicapping his usual secrecy for a moment. He chuckled internally at her 'delinquent' comment. Girl had a sheltered Regular life, huh?

"No! What the hell?!" Callan laughed as the door finally opened, "Were you a burglar in a past life or something?"

A mischievous glance to mask his relief at the lack of follow-up questions. "Oh yeah. And a janitor. And a chef. And a lion tamer. The Mars name has a very checkered past."

Ernie looked over the side to admire the view, not quite wanting to go in yet. The mob of news crews could be easily spotted. Damn pests hadn't moved in days. He went silent as something crossed his mind.

"Say, Cal. How come you don't want your people at home to know you're okay?"

Callan walked over to follow Ernie's line of sight, stepping away from the edge after spotting the conspicuously painted vans. Aquamarine hair did tend to draw the eye-- even from so high up.

Callan sighed as she answered, "I almost did that." She chewed the inside of her cheek, somewhat ashamed of her previous plans, "I was really sad when I found out about what my parents did, but I was pretty angry, too. I considered calling everyone. Getting in touch with all my friends... my other family members... my grandpa...." Another sigh. "But I changed my mind pretty quick. I didn't want to cause them more trouble than I already had. I think it would've really screwed things up."

More than she already had? Did that trouble include magical demolition. Ernie hummed contemplatively, his mind absently drafting schemes involving Cal and the news vans. He stopped as soon as he realised what he was unconsciously doing.

"No. Can you stop being an ass for two seconds?"

If she really had been responsible for that broken house, she was probably too ashamed to show her face to them. Or something like that.

"Was it really you causing the trouble though?" he pursed his lips as he looked at the tiny people below, "I guess if you did show up out of the blue, it'd make your parents look bad. Makes sense, in an annoying way. Do you think you'll ever tell them?"

"Well... I'm still kinda hoping they'll do it. I was going to at least try calling my parents like you suggested." She smiled, genuinely trying to hold onto what few particles of optimism she still had about the situation, "At least my brother's still talking to me, you know?"

Maybe not for much longer at the rate she was going. Callan frowned, remembering the messages Dom had sent her that past week. She still hadn't responded. Bad. Bad older sister.

"Anyway, don't worry about it. I'll figure it out eventually."

"Oh, you have a brother! And he reached out to you, that's really good to hear."

At least she had someone on her side. Ernie had heard too many sob stories of subnatural kids getting abandoned by their parents, with no home or friend to turn to. He was faintly surprised to find that he was geniunely glad for her but...

God, the urge to drag the girl by the hair to the edge of the roof and scream that Callan Webb was here shouldn't have been so enticing.

"Well, you sound better about it than yesterday. Makes me glad. Your friends and the rest of your family will be really happy to find out you're alive in one piece."

It was a small gesture, but genuine. Far too rare.

"I know I was."

Callan smiled meekly, tossling her hair. Crossing her arms, she laughed with exaggerated confidence. "It's gonna take a lot more than a death beam and helicopter crash-- I can promise you that much."

She decided to omit the fact that Sander's strange shielding ability might have been the reason for her coming out of that incident completely unscathed. A thank you that was definitely overdue, but for now she'd rather avoid causing any unneccessary worry.

Still riding on that strange wave of optimism, she added, "I'm glad you made it out okay, Ernie."

"Geez, I'll take your word for it, Girl of Steel."

The boy felt something peculiar ring through him at that last statement, like sudden ripples in a still pond. After everything that happened, after everyone that made it clear that he had no reason to be alive when others weren't, it felt...nice to have someone say that. He knew it was a low bar to surpass but, man, it made him unreasonably happy.

"I'm glad too. No death beams for me, thanks!"

Ernie jaunted back from the edge of the roof and to the open door, grinning happily all the while.

"Guess we should find you a room then. Hopefully one with working hot water."

--


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Sophia Lemane
La Plata, Maryland
September 14th, 2020 - 7:00 pm
At last, she was alone. The room wasn't some kind of fancy hotel room, but she didn't mind. It had four walls, and a door that could lock. Satisfying enough. It would suffice as a safe and quiet place for the time being. From where she stood in the middle of the room, she sighed, going over to sit on the edge of one of the beds to remove her belt.

Instead of dumping the entire belt on the floor, she then began to remove each of the items from the belt. The pepper spray, which she never used. The baton, which she never touched. She opened it and closed it a few times, waving it around in the air randomly before dropping it on the floor. Good luck warding off a clockwork with this. Then lastly, the knife. Holding it in her hand, she ran her thumb across the sharp edge. Another thing she hadn't had any use for. Those three items, they had all been useless. Sheathing the knife, she put it on the floor as well, though more carefully. Slumping backwards onto the bed, she reached behind her and pulled off the hair tie, letting her hair spread out around her.

Savannah was dead. Not breathing, not smiling, not yelling. Motionless, on that battlefield, eyes still open. Why? Why did the gargoyle have to snatch someone from the truck? Why couldn't the attackers have left them alone? Why did the monsters attack the town? Why was it this team that was sent out? Why, why, why? She lifted a fisted hand as if to smack the blankets in anger, before she let it fall, deflating. Running through the what had happened during the entire battle, she realized she didn't want to forget any of it.

It wouldn't seem right to just let go and move on, not when people had died. She wanted to remember every detail. She wouldn't let herself forget Savannah. Ever. Sitting up to remove her cardigan, she removed the floppy pieces of wishalloy that had been held in place by the fitting garment. The pieces on her torso and arms had reverted since she had already put them on in the truck, but the wishalloy on her legs still clung on. She'd have to wait for those to fall off.

The rest of the night was spent holed up in her motel room. She tried to shower, but gave up after the water refused to remain hot. She didn't feel like going out to eat anything, she didn't feel hungry. Even if she were, she doubted any food would taste good right now. She made herself go over each detail of the battle again and again, starting from entering the truck for the drive to Wisford and ending with the arrival at the motel. Many parts of the battle seemed blurred and hazy, especially after Savannah had died. But she tried her best to remember everything, wishing that she had her journal to write down the events in.

How long would they be staying in this motel? Why hadn't they driven directly back to USARILN?

She had too many questions, but she pushed them out of her mind as she pushed back the covers of the bed to climb in under them. An unfamiliar bed, but still not entirely uncomfortable. It seemed clean, and it was something to cover her up and wrap herself up in. Sleep didn't come easily, though. One hour passed, then two, then three, and more before she finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.
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Vox Angelis Dust in the wind

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𝓐 (𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓢𝓸) 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓵












Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by RedDusk
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RedDusk Likes cheese and slacking

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Sander | Christmas


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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by VarionusNW
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VarionusNW Nobody In Particular

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Allison Revel|Callan Webb


𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕄𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕝 / / 𝟙𝟚𝟛𝟘


Collab with @Baklava


Bag of belongings in hand, Callan stood outside the only room whose occupant she could be somewhat sure of. Room seventeen. Kusari’s room. Her knuckles hovered over the wooden door for a moment. Emma’s chat from earlier came to mind. ‘Abrasive’ was the word she’d used to describe Kusari. That was certainly one way to put it.

It’ll be fine, Callan tried to reassure herself. Anyway, it would be nice to see how Kusari was doing after her breakdown yesterday. She’d seemed pretty upset and Callan had almost felt a little bad for sending her off alone when it was obvious she wanted company.

As gently as possible, Callan knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked a second and third time, a bit louder. Huh. She hadn’t considered that Kusari might be out. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing though. Slowly turning the knob, Callan found it was unlocked and eased the door open.

“Kusari?” she called out tentatively, immediately covering her mouth when she noticed the breathing mound beneath the sheets on one of the beds. Oh. She was asleep. Callan chewed her lip, still lingering in the doorway. What now? She didn’t want to wake Kusari up.

She carefully closed the door behind her, eyeing the entrance to the bathroom. She must've been pretty heavily asleep if she'd slept through all that noise just now. Just a quick shower, then. And then she’d go hang out in the lobby or something so Kusari could sleep in peace. Tip toeing past the bed, Callan froze just before she reached the bathroom. A set of clothes lay crumpled on the unused bed-- complete with bra and underwear.

Callan blushed immediately. This had been a mistake. She shouldn't have come here. What was she thinking?? Her eyes slid back over to the occupied bed and she took a deep breath. So Kusari liked to sleep in the nude. That... that wasn't a big deal. She was already here. She'd just hurry up and finish her shower and get out. Not a big deal. Finally making up her mind, Callan hurriedly slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and trying her damnedest to think clean thoughts.

Was last night a mistake? Allison asked herself as consciousness came back to her. She still felt the stigma searing her brain. She could've gone for hours longer and still never reach actual relief. Sure, it was enjoyable in the moment, but she always found herself craving even more, as if the night had just begun. It was almost sickeningly intolerable how necessary that relief that never came was. For Allison Revel, sex was an exercise in futility that was too tempting to avoid.

Allison couldn't help but feel like she had used Kusari, and in that only wasted both their time. She could only hope that Kusari had enjoyed the experience, though considering Kusari was long gone from the space in the bed next to Allison, it was likely destined to be little more than a one night stand. Did Allison even like Kusari? Was it just the stigma driving her? Allison needed to let off some steam.

Allison sat up from under the covers, and slammed her fist into the mattress. There was no place within this motel for her to just go and destroy stuff to sate her disgusting curse, not without destroying property of course. Allison was stuck with herself like this for a few days at least. She slammed her fist into the mattress again; it didn't help. She didn't want a repeat of last night, she didn't want to take advantage of someone else like that. She wanted an actual relationship, not just meaningless sex with someone she'd only known for a day. Could she resist something so tempting in the future? Allison hoped that this sort of thing wouldn't happen again, at least not with her stigma so active.

Allison gave herself a few minutes to calm down and wake up. It didn't take long for Allison's brain to return to the concept of love. She didn't know how she really felt about Kusari, but there was another friend she'd been thinking about for weeks now. Angelique Lechance. How did Allison feel about her? She thought Angel to be absolutely wonderful, having spent a few nights playing guitar with the metalhead, but was there any real love there, not the stigma-induced lust, that was always present, but actual love? Allison wished her stigma would just disappear so she could determine her own feelings. She found herself punching the mattress again.

Now that she was thinking about Angel, wasn't she in the hospital last night? She was probably healed and fully well by now, but it probably wouldn't hurt to go see her. Better late than never. Allison felt kind of bad for not going to see her friend.

Allison got up from the bed, exposing her naked body to the cold air of the motel room. She needed a shower. Though, now that she noticed the soft pitter patter coming from the bathroom, she realized that Kusari had beaten her there. Allison had thought the girl had left completely, but maybe Allison was wrong. Maybe this would be more than a one night stand.

"Hey, Kusari?" Allison said, knocking on the door. There was no answer. Allison twisted the doorknob, cracking the door open. "Hey, Kusari?" She said again.

Scrubbing the dirt particles out of her hair from her second rooftop adventure that week, Callan wasn't alerted to Allison's presence until she heard the door creak open. Hands and head drowning in shampoo, Callan paused, shocked to hear that it wasn't Kusari. But... if it wasn't Kusari, then who?

......

Had that not been Kusari in the bed? Why was there only one bed messed up? Was that girl naked? Why had Kusari invited her to her room last night?

Rapid fire questions kept going off in her head. So quickly and loud that she almost forgot to answer the mystery intruder.

"Uh-- K.. Kusari isn't here?" Callan answered, her voice dipping into a question. What else was she supposed to say? Who the hell was in Kusari's room? Why did she think this would be a good idea?

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" Allison slammed the door back shut and retreated from the door. That wasn't Kusari. Who was that? Who would just walk into a room with someone clearly sleeping it in. Did they know Kusari? Was it that girl Kusari went to talk to last night, Callan?

Allison wanted to run and hide, but doing so would probably be weird, and she really wanted to take a shower. Oh, right, Allison was still naked. She scrambled over to the bed with her pile of clothes, and rushed to clothe herself before sitting on the disheveled bed and waiting for the other girl to leave the bathroom.

Halfway through the girl's apology, Callan tried to hurry up and rinse the soap off her hand so she could peek out of the shower. Edging back the curtain, the door swung shut before she could catch a glimpse of who it was.

She didn't have the wrong room did she? The girl was asking for Kusari. She must've just decided to room with someone else-- that's all.

Callan finished rinsing herself off as quickly as she could, throwing open the curtain and sloppily toweling off her hair at lightening speed. Throwing the towel around her torso, she pushed the sopping wet strands of aquamarine behind her ear and opened the door just enough to see Allison sitting on the bed.

"Uh-- sorry if I spooked you," Callan apologized, "I thought you were... uh... you're rooming with Kusari?"

"I was, yeah." Allison looked away from the cracked-open door. "Probably just for the one night, though. With everything that happened I didn't really want to be alone. Probably shouldn't bother her for too much longer..." Allison trailed off. "You're Callan, right?" Allison only got a slight glimpse of the girl, but there was only one student with brown skin and aquamarine hair.

Those clothes the girl was wearing... they were definitely familiar. As was the the girl. Remembering Savannah's corpse cradled in the girl's arms, Callan was ashamed to realize she couldn't remember her name. "Yeah," she answered. Callan leaned out of the doorway just enough to aimlessly glance over the room. "Uh," her eyes flickered to Allison and she smiled apologetically, "Sorry, I don't, uh. I don't remember your name."

She chose not to comment on the being alone part. She supposed it was nice to hear that Kusari had had company last night, although a small part of her was still wondering about why the girl had been naked.

"Allison." she said, her eyes floating anywhere around the room that wasn't the girl in the doorway. An image of Callan floating among stone spires with only one arm popped into Allison's head. "Is your arm alright?" It was a stupid question, of course she was alright with the healers and everything, Allison was just trying to fill the silence.

Allison. She tried to commit the name to memory. "Yeah, it's fine," she shrugged with a slight frown. "Hey, you don't have to change rooms. I just didn't know Kusari was rooming with anyone. I can hunt down a different room."

"No, no, It's probably better if I go to a different room. I was planning to, anyway." Kusari must've asked Callan to room with her when she went to visit her. She never had any plans for it to be anything more than a one night stand. This wasn't the time to think about that anyway. "Err... I should probably go. Sorry for disturbing you, Callan." Allison got up to leave.

Callan floundered for a response. "Ah--" I'm the one who should be sorry, is what she wanted to say. But it felt awkward trying to prolong the conversation as Allison started heading towards the door. She couldn't help but wonder if something had happened. Perhaps it was her fault-- she should have just asked around for an empty room to shower in.

Allison stopped moving towards the door and turned her head at the awkward response, or lack there of. It seemed as if Callan wanted to say something. "Hm?"

Still floundering, the question clumsily spilled out of Callan's mouth before she could finish thinking it through. "Why don't you want to keep rooming with Kusari?"

"Um.." Allison's mind panicked to find a response that didn't involve mentioning that she had slept with Kusari. She turned back around to face Callan, pointing awkwardly to the X mark on her neck. "Well... It's just better for me to be alone."

"Oh," Callan blinked in surprise. For some reason she hadn't suspected Allison to be the reason. "Sorry," she said quickly, "Uh. Alright then. If you're sure... I'll see you around."

"Yea..." Allison turned to leave again, but stopped momentarily in the doorway. "Listen, this was pretty awkward. Maybe we can talk later? You seem nice, at least. See you around, Callan." Allison darted away to the first empty room she could find.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by VarionusNW
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VarionusNW Nobody In Particular

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Angélique | Allison


𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕄𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕝 / / 𝟙𝟛𝟘𝟘


Collab with @Riffus Maximus


It took Angelique a while to finally get to the motel. After having breakfast with Ernest, the black-haired Aberration began wandering around town. Luckily for her, her changed appearance and scarf around her neck provided just enough disguise to roam about without attracting unwanted attention. However, she got a bit lost. While it had always been interesting to discover a new town, the brightness of the day was getting to the young woman's eyes. Thanks to the clouds, it wasn't debilitating dazing, but it was still too bright for comfort. She just couldn't wait to finally get a room at the motel and shut herself off in the darkness to let her eyes rest from all the exposed light she had been suffering through recently.

After clearing up with the guards that she was Angelique Lachance, member of Experimental Unit B and returning from the hospital, she was allowed to make her way into the motel. She was quickly assigned a room number where she could sleep and rest until they were ready to leave town. However, it was a bit boring all by her lonesome self, in her little room. Wondering if there was anything in the motel worth using for entertainment, Angel walked up to the main lobby, She found some pens and paper.

Now that she was thinking about it, she did promise Siena to write something for her and sing it along with playing her newly bought guitar. Now that she was bored and looking for something to do for a few days, maybe it was the time to try and get this thing started? Taking a comfortable seat, Angel began writing down ideas on a sheet of paper, all the while she started listening to her playlist on her phone.

A freshly showered and clothed Allison made her way to the motel lobby, about to make her way to the hospital to see her friend. Fate, though, seemed to have other plans, as Angelique was instead there in the motel lobby. Allison was thankful, her rather sore body even more so. The brunette was about to call out to the metalhead before noticing that she had headphones in, deciding to instead sit near Angel. Upon closer inspection, the girl was doing some writing, likely of music if Allison had to guess.

"Hey" Allison said with a slight wave as she settled into her seat next to the metalhead.

Despite being lost in thoughts as she submitted her mind to the process of lyrical pursuit, Angel caught a silhouette approaching her from aside and sitting down next to her. Her music was so loud she didn't hear what the other person said, so she turned her head to see who it was as she removed her headphones.

It was her best friend, Allison. Immediately, whatever focused expression she had on her face transformed into a bright smile. Ever since they came back yesterday, Angel had wanted to see her friend, see how well she was doing after the fight. But the evening visits took all of her time and by the time she was done, her body wouldn't obey anything but sleep.

"Alice! It's so good to see you alright." Angel replied, shooting herself from her chair to reach for Allison and give her a friendly hug.

Allison was slightly startled by the sudden hug, but embraced it nonetheless.

"How are you doing? I would've gone to see you last night, but with everything that happened... I was exhausted. Sorry." For a moment, Allison considered telling her friend what happened with Kusari, but decided to leave it out. This wasn't the time or place to discuss something like that.

"It's alright, I understand." came the reply from the fallen idol Aberration, offering her friend a comforting pat in the back before releasing the girl from her warm embrace. "It's been... quite a day." she added.

"I was glad to hear you haven't been hospitalized. I take it everything went well for your team?"

"Yea..." Allison settled back in to her seat. "I guess you could say that for my team. Lily and... Kusari..." Allison's eyes moved to the floor "they're both fine." She took in a deep breath, as if hoping the air would force the bad memories of the previous day back into hiding. "Everything just happened so fast..." Allison leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. "I helped kill someone, Angel. Two people, technically. Yea, they were trying to kill us, but that doesn't change what happened. I can't kill anyone with it, " Allison had raised herself slightly now, and was staring at her empty right hand, "But it's almost worse, like I'm trying to absolve myself of any of the guilt just by having this fucking curse!" Her head dove back into both her hands. "And Savannah! Savannah's dead." She let those words fill the air for a few moments. "I can't even tell who's responsible anymore. Should I be mad at everyone else for not saving her, myself for not getting there fast enough, the people I helped kill for causing her death, or the fucking government for putting her in this situation in the first place? You know, they could probably heal her if they wanted to, with what's his name... Benediction? They won't. They'll let a little girl die just like they let Alexis die, like the others who's names I never got to learn before their lives were cut short."

Allison was fully slumped over at this point, head resting on her knees. She gave herself a moment to breath, and maybe cry, though her eyes stayed dry, before continuing without giving her friend time to interrupt. "I've seen so much death, Angel. I don't want anyone else to die. Death's inevitable though, isn't it? I wish I could just stop it." Her wishes were foolish, idealistic like a child. Pointless. "I'm sorry," Allison brought herself back up, though only halfway, still leaning forward. "It's just been too much to take in, I guess..."

Angel could only but watch and listen to her friend’s laments as she opened her heart and poured on sadness out. She could not blame the girl for being so down after what happened yesterday. In fact, Angel did not fully expect Allison to have taken part of the battle with the Rogues, which made Angel feel a bit worse about herself. Somehow, Allison reminded the raven-haired Aberration of herself; being so caring of the others, so quick to take the blame upon herself, so conflicted.

And yet, why did Angel felt somewhat detached from all this? Was it because she wasn’t there to see it from her own eyes? Or was it from the enlightenment she had experienced after the battle yesterday? Angel could not explain it, but she felt oddly at peace with herself as she watched Allison slumping pitifully.

As if to comfort the depressed Aberration, Angélique extended her hand to Allison’s shoulder. “You know, I was thinking about that for a while yesterday before going to sleep. I tried to blame myself for not having ordered someone from my team to go help the others as soon as they were ambushed. I tried blaming myself for staying at the front after we finished the clockwork army to wait for Christmas to come and heal us, instead of heading with my other teammates to help those who needed it.”

Angel paused, keeping for herself that it would have been a major mistake to have left the frontlines, considering what Hazel was about to do to Ernest and Christmas. If she hadn’t been there to stop the raging Aberration, it was probable the two members of former Healer Team Halvost would be no more today. Again, Ernie’s thanks for saving him replayed in Angélique’s mind, doubling her confidence of having stayed put.

“But you are right on most accounts. It’s everyone’s fault. The institute, ourselves, everyone and the Rogues. We didn’t act quickly enough or take the right decisions to help turn the tides of the battle. Some lost control, some were caught in a position they shouldn’t have been in, some made bad calls and some weren’t just powerful enough to deal with this fight. Don’t put all the blame on yourself, Allison. At the very least, rejoice that we are both alive. To see each other again. To fight for another day. To honor and avenge those who we have lost. To become stronger and one day perhaps make a difference in this world.”

Allison threw her arms around Angelique, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Maybe she was right. Don't give up hope, and keep moving forward.

"Thank you." There were so many things to thank Angel for. For being her friend, for listening to her vent, for her kind words, and for just being there.

Angélique only nodded, feeling the warmth of the embrace lifting a burden off her shoulder along with how thankful Allison seemed to be from her pep talk. Angel wasn't strong enough to protect everyone right now, but if her words could inspire others to become stronger, then she would consider it a victory nonetheless.

"So, what have you been up to ever since we arrived here? Have an idea what we could be doing to kill time, now that we don't have a guitar in hands to enjoy hours of musical productivity?"

Allison wanted to hang onto that hug for a bit longer, but let go before it got too awkward. Letting go was probably a good thing though, given the activity of Allison's stigma. A nearly irresistible want to stay close to the metalhead for as long as possible. A simple hug was surprisingly dangerous.

"Not much," Allison said truthfully, "mostly sleeping, I guess." She wasn't lying, at least. Allison had no idea what the two of them could do. "Other than just hanging around and talking? I don't know. We could walk around town?" As she spoke, she recalled the news media outside. "We'd probably be hounded by reporters, though..." That made the prospect a little less enjoyable, so Allison attempted to think of something else. "I interrupted you, didn't I? What were you working on?"

Given how hard it was to get here without catching all the attention of the media, Angel figured she didn't want to step outside anytime soon. Plus, the brightness of the day would just hurt her more than what she already went through this morning and yesterday at the hospital. No, she wanted to stay in the motel, away from the bright lights.

"Oh, nothing too important. Remember that expensive guitar I have in my room that Siena bought me when we went on a shopping trip two weeks ago? Well, I kind of feel indebted to her for gifting me something this incredible. I figured I'd be writing a song for her to pay her back." Angel explained, scratching her head as she stared at the blank sheets of paper.

"Been a while since the last time I composed anything though. I seem to have a block."

A bold lie. Angel remembered having written down a song, explaining about her Stigma, only three days ago. But it felt so hollow, so meaningless, that she didn't want to acknowledge she wrote something like that.

"Could I try and help? As repayment for interrupting you, of course. I probably won't be too much help, but maybe I'll give you some inspiration" Allison said, looking at the pieces of paper.

"Sure!" Angelique chirped, handing a few sheets of paper and a pen to Allison with an expression of glee. "Writing a song isn't really so tough. You just have to find a subject first. Then focus on it. Develop the idea. A bit like writing an essay in class, or a poem rather. It has to come from the heart though. If you're trying too much to get it out of your head, it might come out as something superficial."

The pair sat and wrote for a while, bouncing ideas off of one another and laughing at particularly bad ones. A small pile of crumpled papers had begun to build up next to Allison, ones that she had refrained from showing to her friend, a hoard of secret bad ideas. If Angel read them, Allison would probably either die of embarrassment or jump on top of her and rip her clothes off. The brunette's stigma hadn't gotten easier to handle, and channeling creativity straight from her heart was just asking her to put her curse onto the page.

After awhile and the silence settled in, Angélique looked towards her friend's direction. It was nice to see the girl showing such enthusiasm and being so focused on the thing, It kind of reminded Angel of herself in her early days as a musician. Brought her back memories of brainstorming ideas for a new song. If only, back in the days, someone like Allison would have been part of her band. That would have made the 'teaming-up' band thing a more enjoyable experience with someone she appreciated.

"Sooo~, what kind of ideas did you come up with? Mind if I take a look at them?" Angel asked, genuinely interested in the sort of subjects Allison was thinking of.

"It's probably all terrible, but here, take a look." Allison passed over the paper she had been slaving over for most of the time. The page was filled with various ideas and lyrical segments, though seemingly nothing finished, written in every direction and at various sizes, as if the goal was just to fill up the page. A few lines had been scratched out, one that is preceded by something about Allison's mother, another started with "Oh, the things I would do to" before abruptly being cut off by scratch marks. The longest piece on the page was roughly 8 lines long, mentioning glowing red eyes and lies in a childishly simple rhyme scheme. The only piece that rivaled it was what seemed to be the makings of a love song, the subject of which seemed to have their name mentioned multiple times, but always scratched out.

Allison wanted to rip the paper away and tear it apart, but she let Angel read it, despite her own anxiousness.

Eagerly, Angélique took the paper Allison handed her and began reading it. Being a songstress, the raven-haired idol was very keen on analyzing texts, poems and such. It was probably her only real academically-honed skill. Due to her currently bad eyesight, Angel could not make out what had been written underneath all the scratching, but it didn’t matter much. Ideas were meant to be put into paper, weighed if they were worth being kept and scratched if deemed unnecessary. Allison seemed to have a good writing process, for someone saying they weren’t very skilled in musical creativity. Very good for an amateur, even.

After reading over the lacking parts, Angel set her focus on the two main parts of the sheet. The one about red eyes and lies was fascinating, as if explaining a concern or a conflict on paper. It was interesting, and made the expert musician want to ask further about that part.

But the most interesting part was the one that got Angélique’s heart fluttering: the love song. It was so touchy, so romantic, and so cute. The young woman got goosebumps over reading it. A soft smile creeped on her lips as she was done reading it. It was clear a name had been repeated a few times on that poem, but she couldn’t make out what it was. That love song was partly something she was looking for: something that came from the heart. Reading it over again, it made Angel feel like Allison was harboring that special feeling for someone close to her.

“That’s… actually pretty good! Those lines about the red eyes and the overall subject of lies, it got me intrigued. And that’s what you want to get in a song: intrigue. Build up the momentum, until you reach the climax and let the true meaning of the song break free.” Angel explained her interest over the eight lines that she found fascinating. “And the love song… is actually my favorite out of what you wrote. It feels like it comes from the heart, from your very soul. It’s very inspiring. I found it lovely to be honest.”

Angel paused, letting her opinions sink into the brunette’s mind and building up the courage to ask her friend about the love song.

“Say… what you wrote in there… are those feelings you had for someone in your life before, or someone from the school?”

Allison slowly pulled away the piece of paper, her eyes darting to the ground. Her cheeks were glowing red after Angel's question. "S-someone from the school." She answered truthfully.

Angélique let out a playful "Oooh~" when hearing Allison's answer. She did not spoke much about her private life, nor did Angel saw the girl all that much outside their frequent evening hang-outs, busy as she was all day long. She wondered who that lucky person might be? But she didn't mean to pry too much on her best friend's secrets, if she was actually keen on keeping it a secret that is. But curiosity gnawed at her. Surely she won't mind telling her, being best friends and all.

"Is it someone from our class? No wait, is it someone I know?" the ex-rockstar asked cheerfully, a grin as wide as her face could manage.

"Maybe..." Allison said playfully. Angel was a bit dense, it seemed. "I might tell you later, but for now I think I'll keep that little secret to myself." Allison's face was still bright red. She desperately wanted to change the subject. "By the way, are you rooming with anyone?"

Angel's lips pursed into an exaggerated pout, playfully faking disappointment. Well, it seems like finding out her secret love would have to wait for another day. She can't really force the truth out of her if she didn't want to tell, would it?

"Unfortunately, no. Seems like whoever is in charge of keeping us in line here assumed I'd like to have a room for myself, just like at the institute."

"Mind if I room with you, then?"

The fallen rockstar's face beamed when she heard these words. Was she for real? That was the best proposal she could have gotten so far ever since they got in La Plata. Having watched Siena talk with Marcus on the evening they got in town, in the hospital, she couldn't deny she was feeling envious of the two, wishing she also was rooming with someone. Now, it would appear one of her wishes would be fulfilled, if only temporarily.

"You sure? That would be... awesome! I'd very much like that, yes!" Angel said, not even hiding a single bit of her excitement.

"Awesome!" Allison wrapped her friend in a tight hug. "I'll meet back up with you later, then. For now, I think i'm gonna go talk a walk." She released her friend, a warm smile plastered across her face. She quickly gathered up the discarded hoard of papers, leaving the one good one on the table. She took the papers to the nearest garbage can and ripped them into tiny shreds. Though, Allison had missed one ball of paper which still remained near Angel. Allison made her way out of the building, her face still flushed, matching her giddy, childlike smile.

Angélique waved a cheerful good bye hand to her departing friend. Well, it was time to wrap this brainstorming session. For now, what they have done would suffice. She needed a break to refill her ideas.

As she got up and started cleaning the sheets of paper and pens littering around their sitting spot in the lobby, one crumpled ball of paper caught Angel's attention. That wasn't one of hers? Angel didn't like the idea of crumpling papers, as sometimes she would go back to her previous idea and try to get ideas out of the ones that failed to make it. If it was Allison's, Angel was only the more curious about her friend's writing process, see what kind of other ideas the girl had.

As she read through the sheet of paper, Angel's smile slowly faded, her mouth left agape that she had hidden underneath an open palm and her cheeks flushed red like never before.

'Oh, the things I would do to you, Angel' was only the first line of the love song Allison had previously written. It was basically the same thing as the one Angel had previously read, but this version of the song was... particularly more explicit, and the places that were scratched until no longer readable were written with a name: Angel. But there was no denying it, it wasn't just a song about what Allison had imagined doing with Angélique. It also had the heart and the burning passion it previously exuded, only the more intense.

A lump formed itself in the raven-haired young woman. Her heartbeat had grown erratic. How did she not notice about Allison's feelings before? Was it Allison's plot to reveal her secret love to Angélique in such fashion? It was certainly... romantic, to say the least. Angel did not know how to feel about all this. She had her handful of people proposing to her in the past, being a gorgeous and popular young woman, but she never accepted the feelings of any before. She never found herself attracted to anyone. People had even started calling her 'asexual' because of the sheer number of people she rejected without accepting a single person's feelings.

And yet... it was different this time. Unlike before, it's not as if she completely wanted to reject Allison's feelings. In fact, it was touching to know she felt that way about her. Even Angel herself was now finding herself confused in her feelings. She felt especially close to Allison, after having hanged out more than a few times already, eating and eve fighting together in life-risking situations Was Allison her best friend, a soul sister, a potential lover? She could not tell anymore now.

Still red from embarrassment, Angel quickly picked the remainder of her stuff and left towards her room, unconsciously folding the piece of paper containing Allison's feelings into the pocket of her jeans.
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Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Vox Angelis
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Vox Angelis Dust in the wind

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𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 & 𝓗𝓪𝓽𝓮









𝓕𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼





Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Chasers115
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Chasers115 The FatCat

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Marcus Howell



𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟞, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟 / / 𝟘𝟠𝟛𝟘



It was a long night for Marcus, considering the lack of sleep. He'd managed to at least pick himself off the floor and splash some water on his face, trying to bring himself back to his senses. He deliberately didn't look at himself in the mirror - it wasn't the face he saw when he thought about Marcus. This was the face of the Marcus that was faking a personality, a Marcus who had left all his problems for the actual one to deal with. He'd berated that portion of himself enough, and right now he didn't even want to see him.

He just needed a while to settle down. Then he'd welcome that version of himself back with open arms.

Right now, he at least had something that he wanted to do. A goal to keep his mind off things. He needed to make his way down to the library and find a few books for Siena. It'd help him get some fresh air, and by the time he got everything down to the hospital, he'd hopefully be back to his usual self.

Well, his usual self since the Dream.

His shirt and pants were wrinkled, but he was in no mood to fix his appearance. He just wanted out. He stepped out of the room, looking both ways down the hall to make sure none of his classmates were around. The last thing he wanted to do in this state was run into someone he knew, god forbid Emma or Ernie find him in the sorry position he was in.

Fortunately, he seemed to be in the clear. The only other person in the hall was what he assumed to be a guard, his assumptions confirmed when he told the man he was going out, only to get an angry glare. Definitely a guard.

The only obstacle between him and the sweet refreshment of the crisp morning air was the reporters, who he imagined had started to gather in even more force now that the word had undoubtedly spread. Perhaps he'd take the back door again, see if the same trick worked twice.

It wouldn't.

Standing just a few meters outside the door was a woman in a carefully tailored pantsuit with shoulder-length brown hair curled and parted to one side and swept neatly onto her right shoulder. She wore light makeup and didn't seem concerned with the mark on Marcus's face as much as Marcus himself.

Strangely enough, she and her cameraman were the only ones there waiting for him.

"Good morning!" she greeted as she approached, a bobbing camera perched on the shoulder of her taller coworker following immediately after her. "I'll cut to the chase--mind answering a few questions?"

Marcus's stride only stopped for a moment as he realized there was only a single reporter waiting for him. However, in deciding he didn't want his less-than-stellar current appearance plastered all over the televisions, he continued walking. This was not something he was in the mood for this morning, and with any luck he'd be able to leave without much of a problem.

"Yep, definitely mind. Not buying, thank you." he said, trying to avoid eye contact with the camera.

"One call and I can have the other reporters rushing back here. You can pick them or me." The woman's voice didn't follow him. She remained in place, leaning back on her heels and crossing her arms.

"Oooh, multiple choice questions, huh?" Marcus said, slowing down a little bit. His tone made it perfectly clear than he was neither impressed, nor very threatened by this faux 'hostage' scenario. "Do I get a third option, teach?"

"One bad word and USARILN East won't like the sound of it on their reputations. And it's a 50/50 gamble if they get rid of you or just silence the media--or both, even."

That statement caused him a bit of pause. They wouldn't get rid of him just for the word of one lousy reporter, would they?

As if she could guess at the reason for his hesitation, then woman smiled. "I've got a lot more pull than most people think."

His mind flashed back to the first day. A guard executed for flinching.

"I get a question first." Marcus said, finally turning around and crossing his arms. "What exactly makes you so special?"

"Because I've covered some of the worst things this decade. My name pulls a few strings in the media community. Not as many these days since I've...relaxed a bit, but enough." She took a microphone from the cameraman's saddle bag, brushing off flecks of imaginary dust as she continued. "Marianne Forhan. I reported on the disaster at Palo Alto nine years ago. The Slumber before that. Then Cat's Cradle and Chicago. Worst thing I've seen? What's left of China. So don't lump me in with the rest of these reporters who take the safe stories."

Her cameraman looked at her with some surprise, the details apparently news to him as well.

"So how about it? While the rest of them are off chasing a bad tip, we have some time."

Marcus looked at her for another moment, as if weighing the pros and cons of the whole situation. But...if this lady were as big as she claimed to be, would he be able to help, even a little bit? Even the ice cream vendor had been frightened, and he hadn't even done anything to the poor kid besides a quick quip at his expense. Maybe he could show a little subhuman hospitality, spread the good word around, show the people there was nothing to be afraid of?

"Any chance you can keep the camera off me? I'm not exactly fit for television this morning."

"Don't be ridiculous. The battle-weary look sells stories."

Another sigh.

"Alright Mari. Shoot."

"Perfect. Let's go live. Countdown!" She positioned herself beside Marcus so both of them angled towards the camera. Her cameraman counted down on his hand offscreen: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

"Good morning, citizens of La Plata! This is Marianne Forhan of KLPN coming to you live from the East Winds Motel with a subnatural from the renowned--and feared--USARILN East. Tell us your name?"

She angled the microphone towards Marcus.

Almost immediately, Marcus could feel the pressure. As if all of those peering eyes were crowded in this tiny alley together, just staring him down. He straightened his posture, trying to look as professional as he possibly could on such short notice.

"Marc-" Shit. He really should have used a fake name or something.

"Just Marc."

"All right, Marc. Is it true USARILN East handled the situation at Wisford? And were you a part of that effort?"

His mind raced for a moment. Was he supposed to comment on these sort of things? Would he be in even more trouble if he didn't? The truth would get out eventually...if not him, then someone else. Yeah. That made sense.

"That is correct. I was part of the team sent in to handle and defuse the incident."

"Could you tell us more about that?"

"As far as we were briefed, there was a rogue creature rampaging throughout the little town. I don't know how familiar you are with standard classification, but this was rated at a 3, possibly 4 - a very significant threat. My abilities are more suited for extraction, so I was placed on the back lines, and was not actually part of the team that fought it head on."

"And what abilities are those, exactly?"

"It's a little hard to explain on the spot. Basic mobility enhancing powers would be the easiest way to phrase it."

"So how does it work? Is it superspeed? Flexibility?"

"I can get into and out of an area very quickly. Jump forwards or backwards a few moments, if you will."

"Wait, you move through time?" The camera swung to Marcus's face.

He turned from Mari to look at the camera for a moment, before diverting his eyes back down to the reporter. "That's the basic gist of it, yes. Without complicating things; I can really only move through a 'personal' timeline. No effect on any external sources."

"That's amazing! There are no formal records made public from any of the Institutes, but as far as I'm aware very few subnaturals have time-related powers. Is it possible for you to reverse even death with that ability?"

Marcus let his guard down for a moment, the question hitting a little harder than he would have liked.

"As I said, no effect on any external sources. For me to find that out, I'd have to die, which is not something I'm too keen on testing, you see." A faked chuckle for a forced joke.

"Fascinating. And you were assigned an extraction duty? Does it move others with you?"

"It does not. As I said: no external sources, personal effects only. It's good for getting into an area and assessing the situation rapidly, but actually extracting people is left to the old-fashioned way."

"And were you successful?"

Now there was a question. Had he been successful? Could he actually consider what had happened on that battlefield a 'victory' for Team Evac? Savannah dead, Lawrence nearly killed, a million other things that could have possibly gone wrong and inevitably did?

"We did manage to extract some civilians. The unfortunate reality is that we weren't able to save as many as I would have liked, so calling it a 'success' is entirely subjective."

"But you managed to save several civilians, then. Now to change the tune slightly, did you want to?"

"Absolutely." His tone was strong. If he couldn't use his powers to help, then what exactly did that make him? Less than human? The very thing he was trying to avoid?

"Everyone knows how the Institutes capture and detain subnaturals. It's a cruel fact that most of the subnatural help during crises is often involuntary. So even with that forced service, you claim with no hesitation that you were still willing to help?"

"Yes. I'm not sure why I was chosen by DC, or if there even was a reason, but I know I was given the ability to help where I hadn't been able to before. If you had the chance to help even one person Mari, wouldn't you?"

The reporter laughed, a genuine sound in the midst of the otherwise bitter situation. "I think anyone would say 'yes' in this context, Marc. But it's good to know that for all that's happened, you'd still help those who can't help themselves. Do you think that philosophy will remain true in the days to come?"

"If it didn't, then I'd be very disappointed with myself."

"A good answer. No promises that you might not keep. So tell me about yourself, Marc? You weren't always a subnatural I hope. That cuff wasn't always on your ankle."

"That's a boring story, Mari; not one fit for your viewers. You could ask any kid out there what he was like, and get a similar story to mine. I'm just a guy, is all."

A deflection, and a soft shrug. 'Himself' wasn't exactly a topic he wanted to discuss right now, especially after the crisis he'd had last night.

"Well, you didn't always have those scars, right?"

"No. I didn't/" The words were soft and shallow, the speech of someone who'd been kicked up and down for longer than anybody deserved. "But that's a relatively fresh look for me, and a fairly personal one. I'd prefer not to talk about it, if you wouldn't mind."

"A tragedy in the background, huh? How about your family? Or the day you got your powers. What was that like?"

His family. The day he got his powers. Constant images that only served to taunt and hurt him, rather than the hopefully story that he wanted to be. He glanced away from Marianne, looking to the ground instead. Looking anywhere to avoid the thousands of eyes he could feel on him.

"No more questions."

The woman looked like she had a million more questions, but she stopped at the sight of the young boy hanging his head. It was defeat and it was despair and she knew enough of that look to recognize a battered survivor when she saw one.

She turned instead back to the camera, stepping away from the subnatural so the camera no longer held him in frame.

"You saw it here first, everyone. A firsthand look at a subnatural, a fighter, and a survivor. We rarely get the opportunity to personally interview USARILN students, let alone ones from USARILN East, so thank you, Marc, for your time. I'll let you go now."

The cameraman panned back to Marcus one more time and zoomed in, timing the feed until the cut-off. When he gave Marianne the thumbs up, she turned back to Marcus, resting one hand briefly on his shoulder.

"Hey," she called out.

Her cameraman flinched backwards, ready for some burst of power to annihilate them.

But there was nothing of the sort, even if Marcus wanted to, the most he'd be able to do was sucker punch them a couple of times. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to regain the composure he'd almost lost for the second time in a few hours. He was going to be fine. He'd take a walk to clear his head, piece the mask back together one little bit at a time.

"Sorry, didn't mean to cut you off early." he said, giving a shattered smile to the reporter.

"Trick to looking confident. Always keep your chin up. You can be crying mascara, but if that chin stays up, you'll still look put-together," the reporter replied, eyes scanning his face briefly before she stepped back while a sympathetic smile. "It doesn't get any easier. Especially for you guys. Good work, making it this far."

The cameraman murmured something that sounded like "Station wants you back" after a quick check on his phone and she sighed, checking her wristwatch--a remnant of old-fashioned timekeeping.

"Whatever happened..." she said, eyeing the boy, "you'll have to learn to live with it--or you'll just die with it. Trust me on that."

A tap on her shoulder from the cameraman and she spun on her heels, heading back to the news van parked down the street.

Chin up. A tip he'd have to remember. He was shocked to hear the words of encouragement (or what he assumed to be encouragement at least) from the woman, when mere moments ago she had been threatening to get him killed.

He was trying to learn to live with it. God knew he was. But it wasn't an easy thing to do - it would never be an easy thing to do. Damned if he wasn't going to keep trying though.

He straightened himself out a little bit, looking at the back of the reporter as she walked away. "Hey Mari!" he called out, following without waiting to see if she stopped.

"...stay safe out there, alright?"

She didn't respond as she stepped onto the van, but Marianne heard him.

"Safe's not where the stories are, Marc," she said to herself, sitting down as the car began to move. It felt like time to stop taking a break recently. It wasn't so much giving up as trying to get away from the same cycle of unhappiness that plagued the inhospitable decade, but Marianne chewed lightly on the inside of her cheek as she considered following the turn of events and USARILN East in particular.
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