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[color=808080][color=EBCEED][b]#EBCEED[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/46/4c/02/464c02c82934d8335c997bdc08116636.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [b]arena[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Zelia walked beside Rae with a lightness she didn’t quite feel, the leftover adrenaline in her limbs making her steps come out too quick, like she might float away if she didn’t keep her body tethered by sheer intention. The arena hummed around them, River’s voice echoing, the brass of other voices rising up as campers mingled, the sound of others running through the course, but all of it felt muffled, submerged beneath the quiet gravity of Rae’s exhaustion. She guided her gently, careful not to crowd, her hand resting at the small of Rae’s back with a featherlight touch rather than a brace. When Rae sank onto the bench, Zelia folded herself down beside her, close enough to share a boundary of warmth, but not so close as to trap her in the press of contact.

She noticed almost immediately— the faint tremor that hadn’t quite disappeared; the gooseflesh rising along her forearms despite the heat lingering in the air like a held breath. Without a word, Zelia shrugged out of her own hoodie. It was soft, sky-blue with sleeves worn thin at the elbows, smelling faintly of rosemary and ozone, as if the pockets held the ghost of summer storms. She draped it lightly across Rae’s lap, tucking the hem beneath her knees so it wouldn’t slip. The gesture was careful, unannounced, the way you might feed a skittish bird from your palm and pretend not to notice when it pecks closer. Zelia didn’t say anything, just offered the jacket like it was the most ordinary thing in the world to give warmth where warmth was needed.

As the next names were called and the assessment churned on, Zelia watched Rae more than she watched the course. Not openly, never like a stare, but in sideways glances that slid off like sunlight on water. She saw the way Rae leaned forward when Wes’s name cut sharp through the noise, the way her whole body reacted before her mind caught up, like a compass needle snapping north. Zelia followed Rae’s gaze, eyes softening as she took in the lone figure on the course— his missing arm, his stubborn gait, the grit that he wore like a second heartbeat. But the worry Zelia felt wasn’t entirely for Wes. It lodged beneath her ribs for Rae, who watched him with a tension so fierce it seemed to steal the air right out of her own lungs.

Zelia stayed quiet as Wes fell face-first, a streak of red darkening the dirt. Rae’s inhale was sharp enough to hear. Instinct coiled tight in Zelia’s calves, an urge to stand, to sprint, to intervene in a story she had no rightful place in. But Rae didn’t move, and so Zelia stayed. Instead, she pressed her knee gently against Rae’s, a soft knock like a question she wouldn’t force her friend to answer; [i]I’m here if you need to lean.[/i] She didn’t say a single word, merely rooted herself there, a steady presence while Rae’s world narrowed to the arena floor.

When Wes crossed the finish line, shaking and bloodied but unbroken, Zelia exhaled slowly, quietly, her relief braided with something gentler, like respect. Rae seemed to fold inward after that, the intensity draining from her in waves, replaced by the hollow fatigue of someone who had run more than a physical course. Zelia’s fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out, but she let the moment settle instead, like dust after a stirring, giving Rae space to breathe inside the ruins and rebuild something of her own shape.

She watched Trinity next, of course, everyone did. The other girl tore through the course with surgical precision, her limbs cutting the air like strokes of a blade designed to triumph. Zelia’s gaze followed the run, but only because turning away would have made her an anomaly. In truth, her attention never strayed far from the quiet weight at her side. Rae didn’t shrink beside the display of skill, she just seemed to grow smaller in her stillness, the way candlelight appears to dim not from weakness, but from the glare of noon. Zelia felt the shift and leaned, ever so slightly, shoulder brushing shoulder. She wanted to tell her there is room for a softer kind of fire, but she was new to this whole…friend thing. Would it be an overstep?

By the time River dismissed the final group, the air felt looser, like the tension had exhaled with the crowd. Relief rippled outward. Zelia rose, turning toward Rae with a gentle tilt of her head, curls slipping over her shoulder like spun copper catching sunlight.

Zelia blinked as Nelly appeared beside them, an arrival so sudden it felt like a new weather pattern rolling over their little bench. For a heartbeat she simply [i]looked,[/i] surprise softening the usual brightness in her features. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly. More the disoriented wonder of someone watching a squirrel perch on their hand instead of a branch. Her gaze flitted from Nelly’s headphones to the neon slices of color streaking across her workout suit, greens and purples and electric yellows that swirled like a storm trapped in fabric, and she had to bite down gently on the inside of her cheek to quell the instinctive cringe tugging at her expression.

Because it wasn’t [i]bad,[/i] exactly. Just… startling. Loud in the way lightning sometimes was, bright enough to feel behind the eyes. It reminded her, vaguely and inexplicably, of the Home Shopping Network broadcasts her grandmother used to fall asleep to, those presenters in shimmering tracksuits that caught the camera lights like constellations trapped in polyester, offering “exclusive sets” of outfits that promised to “flatter every angle.” Outdated. Too eager. Unapologetically itself. Even thinking it made her chest warm with nostalgia and embarrassment in equal measure.

Still, Zelia’s smile flickered back to life, small but earnest. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, leaning forward slightly, elbows braced on her knees as if orienting herself.

[color=EBCEED]“Hi,”[/color] she said at last, the word soft as a drop into still water. [color=EBCEED]“I’m Zelia. And you’re fine. We’re very interruptible, I think.”[/color] She paused, then added with a breath that shaped itself into a shy laugh, [color=EBCEED]“The course was…unique. Everything feels… louder here. The lightning, the people. Even when it’s quiet.”[/color] Her eyes darted up toward the dome of warm air holding the training grounds apart from the cold outside, then back to Nelly. [color=EBCEED]“Even the warmth they managed to conjure here is louder, it’s fascinating.”[/color]

She glanced at Rae as she spoke, as though confirming the logic by proximity, before turning back to Nelly with a steadier smile. [color=EBCEED]“Thank you for asking, by the way,”[/color] she continued, sincerity threading gently through her voice. Her gaze flickered once more to Nelly’s bright sneakers, lightning-lime and amethyst like they’d been dipped in summer twilight, and in the corner of her mind she pictured her grandmother’s voice echoing the host’s in glee, [i]And folks, it comes in six vibrant colorways![/i] The memory nearly tugged her mouth into a grin, but she held it gently at bay, choosing softness instead. 

[color=EBCEED]“I like your colors,”[/color] Zelia said finally, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush as if sharing a secret. [color=EBCEED]“You look like a meteorologist’s dream. Like weather they can’t predict yet.”[/color] And somehow, that felt like a compliment.

Zelia’s smile hadn’t fully faded from speaking with Nelly when the results began to echo through the arena. Her posture sharpened like a tuning fork struck against stone; she felt the shift in the air the way some people felt a weather change in their bones. The announcement landed in her chest like pebbles dropped into deep water— ripples spreading outward, subtle but undeniable. [i]Second run.[/i] Those words snagged at the edges of her nerves, not because she feared the course itself but because she knew what it meant for the girl sitting beside her, shoulders bowed like someone bracing for impact. Her score didn’t matter now, the fact that she’d passed was background noise in her ears.

Her gaze found Rae instinctively, the world narrowing to the subtle slump of her posture, the quiet strain in her eyes. Dread pooled low and heavy in Zelia’s stomach, thick as winter molasses. Without thinking, she reached for the hoodie folded on Rae’s lap. Then, gently, she folded it between her hands, fingers lingering on the fabric like it might tell her what to do. When Rae pushed to her feet, determination and exhaustion warring in every line of her body, Zelia felt something in herself answer like a chord struck in resonance.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she rose. The hoodie slipped from her fingers and spilled back onto the bench like a dropped thought. Her legs moved on instinct, carrying her after Rae with quick, quiet steps as if she were afraid to break the moment with sound. She reached out— and her hand found Rae’s wrist.

The contact snapped like a heartbeat. Not painful. Not startling. Just alive. Warmth chased up her palm, a fizzing bloom like static caught beneath the skin, as though the electricity that lived in her wanted to greet the world through someone else. A tingling spark skittered up her forearm; it made her breath catch, made her chest feel too full, like she’d swallowed sunlight and it was trying to shine its way out. Rae’s pulse thrummed beneath her fingertips, a soft rhythm under fragile armor, and Zelia’s own heartbeat answered, aligning like planets trying for the same orbit.

Above them, as if the sky were listening, a seam in the cloud cover split open. A single strike of sunlight spilled through, slow and golden and deliberate, catching in Rae’s hair. The strands ignited like copper wire kissed by flame, every shade from ember-red to old honey. It painted Rae in something holy, a small blaze standing against a storm. Zelia’s breath stilled. For a moment she simply looked, suspended in the fragile ache of awe. She squeezed then, gentle, grounding, an anchor instead of a plea. Her voice, when it came, was soft but steady, woven through with a brightness she couldn’t quite hide.

[color=EBCEED]“Hey,”[/color] she murmured, the word carrying warmth like steam from a cup held close in winter. [color=EBCEED]“You don’t have to race to the finish this time. Just…”[/color] Her thumb brushed instinctively against Rae’s pulse, a promise more than a gesture. She was trying to be reassuring, kind, but doubts rose up in the back of her mind with the vengeance of a rolling tide. Was this...what friend's did? Was she being too much? She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. [color=EBCEED]“Just finish it. Take every minute you need. No one gets to decide what your pace means.”[/color] Her smile came easy then, bright as that sunlight overhead, not blinding, but warm enough to thaw. 

[color=EBCEED]“I’ll be right here,”[/color] she said, as if the words were a lantern to hand over. [color=EBCEED]“Cheering for every step. Even the small ones. Especially those, that’s what friends do.”[/color] And she let go only when she felt Rae had taken the message, when she felt, beneath her fingers, the smallest shift from trembling resolve to something steadier. [/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] rae, nelly [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] wesley, trinity, nelly's outfit (honorable mention) [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [/color]
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