[COLOR=GRAY][hr][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/4LAnNWx.png[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=#D90037][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Minotaur/Trial Campground - Southern Plateau, Dundas Island[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#D90037][b]The Homecoming Trials #1.102a:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Uncomfortable Non-Silence[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=#D90037][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]No One[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#D90037][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Cum Bye Yah[/I][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT]If daggers could manifest and volley from Trace’s eyes, they would have at Trevor’s joke. This moment had turned weirdly somber, and they didn’t really like the feel of it. Like their skin was wet and sticky in a way that wasn’t natural—almost as if they wanted to take it off to feel normal again. They narrowed their eyes and was about to say something when Haleigh spoke up. The wheel of depression kept turning like a watermill filled with children’s bones.

Maybe Trace was feeling a bit better about their situation considering what a lot of them said. No one got their powers and just—blossomed. Some traumatic shit got piled on top of it right afterward. Katja lost her parents, Haleigh couldn’t walk, Calliope became her father’s #1 enemy, [s]Rory still lived in blissful ignorance[/s], and Luce’s power seemed brutal in the real shit way. Trace wallowed on top of their campfire seat of one perfectly placed downed tree before they started to be more transparent about what had happened to them. Those horrible instances. Not once, but twice when they’d lost control of their powers. The first time had been purely accidental, but the second had been filled with something more—cruel. That was the time that Makenna opened her mouth spouting off how awesome she was, and that her life was a breeze. Trace glowered. Absolutely looked as if they’d been punched in the throat and asked to enjoy it. [COLOR=#D90037]“Fuck this,”[/color] they grumbled under their breath and left the trauma-dump-circle-jerk.

They silently peeled away as Banjo and Inigo were chatting. They didn’t catch the end of that conversation, but it probably ended in more, “friendship is magic!” bullshit. Honestly, they were disappointed in themselves for feeling that vulnerable for even a second. They glanced back to catch Banjo loudly proclaiming something and warming up to Inigo and felt an odd pang in their heart. Maybe they shouldn’t have left just yet, or maybe they were disappointed in the fact he even dropped the loner act in lieu of making friends. 

Trace turned back around and made their way to their stupidly extravagant tent. They sighed as they stared at it. Why did they feel the urge to be the loner? It’s not that other people didn’t get them. There seemed to be people from all walks of life there, and some of them were bleaker than them. At least Trace still had their dad and brothers, to a lesser extent, and a place to call home. Some people didn’t even have that. No, it wasn’t because they thought they were better than everyone else, or that their shit didn’t stink—quite the opposite, it was more like their shit was filled to the brim with razor blades, but there were people whose shit oozed cancerous acid. At the end of the day, Trace couldn’t say why that all annoyed them. Maybe they needed better meds. Or maybe they felt like even more of a joke after showing their powers off. 

They pried their shoes off and placed them right outside of the tent opening as they crawled in. They flopped onto their sleeping apparatus with the indigency of a twelve-year-old told to go to bed. Maybe, they were upset that their story was not unique, their power was not stronger than anyone’s, their situation was neither the best nor the worst, and they didn’t even have the creepiest ability. They shuddered at remembering Trevor’s ground hand. In this pool of teenagers and young adults, they were mediocre. And maybe that is what hurt the most. The knowledge that they failed at even being the meanest person out there when Makenna opened her dumb, privileged mouth. They were… tepid biscuits and lukewarm tea. There was nothing amazing about Trace, and that hurt.[/INDENT][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR]

[COLOR=GRAY][hr][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/v71QiBN.png[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=#B7EB6F][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Team 78 Campsite - Southern Plateau, Dundas Island[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#B7EB6F][b]The Homecoming Trials: # 1.102b:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Weirder Things HAVE Happened in LA, but...[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=#B7EB6F][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Sierra that Spits [@JunkMail], Harlowe [@PatientBean], Yuri [@Wei Wuxian], Kisha [NPC][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#B7EB6F][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Don't Stop Bee-Lieving[/I][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT]Coop was used to confident people. He’d grown up in his family, filled to the brim with members that didn’t know what the words “inside voice” meant. His mother introduced herself to everyone, and his father was always looking for future clients. Yet, he was thrown off when the girl—Sierra—leaned in close and took a bit of his pizza. She remarked on his eyes, and he almost reached up to touch them as if he could tell what they looked like with his fingers. He tried to back up, but the heel of his shoe tapped a risen root. So, he stayed in place. 

He was used to girls hitting on him, but he wasn’t used to this level of bravery. She fired off some more questions before leaning against the pizza napkin tree and giving the smuggest look he’d seen outside of a courtroom. Man. His heart pounded in his chest, and maybe it hurt a little bit? Was he having a heart attack? That would honestly track. Instead, he was reminded of the wetness in his hand. That’s right she spit in it. Had he forgotten? Several things had compounded at once. His brain was quickly trying to find the right file for each of them to go in. 

[COLOR=#B7EB6F]“I’m a content creator, and I got here by plane,”[/COLOR] he said, swiftly. He then rammed the rest of his pizza in his mouth and quickly tried to chew through it. [COLOR=#B7EB6F]“[i]Ouhr nurh, I need tou find soume naphkins. Need anythin’?[/i]”[/COLOR] he asked, while his cheeks looked akin to a chipmunk. He didn’t really wait to listen if she responded. The question was to seem polite, but it was infinitely more rude that he beat it out of there right afterward.

Honestly, between the grease, leaves, and spit—he really needed a napkin. Unfortunately, he found one almost immediately. So, he shuffled towards the girl that was holding the world’s loudest Bluetooth speaker—somewhere—and placed the napkins down. He acted as if there was where he found them. A look of faux surprise on his face as he did.  He then looked at Sierra and cupped his ear in his hand as if this was really the thing that was stopping him from returning to her. The girl who was holding her phone was a looker. The two next to her were less remarkable. But Coop wasn’t into men, and the other one looked as if she was trouble. As much trouble as Sierra? Probably not, but at this moment in time he just wanted not to be spit on. He managed to wrestle too much pizza down his throat and started coughing as his airway was bothered by this entire production. He coughed a few more times, holding his finger up as if anyone cared. He lifted himself up about that time, red-faced and eyes wet. 

[COLOR=#B7EB6F]“I’m Coop!”[/COLOR] he half-yelled as the music had dwindled down but not entirely disappeared. [COLOR=#B7EB6F]“I know you didn’t ask, but I figured as I am over here now—it’d be weird not to introduce myself.”[/COLOR] He coughed.[COLOR=#B7EB6F]“Sorry, pizza down the wrong pipe.”[/COLOR][/INDENT][/INDENT][/COLOR][hr]