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Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current therapy sounds like a good investment
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2 yrs ago
everyone shut up im playing kingdom hearts 3
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2 yrs ago
back on my bullshit!
3 likes
3 yrs ago
hmm i should get back into this rp thing...
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3 yrs ago
I'M IN A PLAY BUT I'M TRYING TO WRITE I PROMISE
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Bio

i like to rp. that's really all there is to say.

Most Recent Posts

Collaboration with @Almalthia & @c3p-0h












@Brioko Jobe @Almalthia - The Mall - 1:05 PM


Aya jumped when she felt the hand on her shoulder, turning with wide eyes to see Professor Everose. She'd found them.

They were in so much trouble.

Something shifted in her though, when the professor began to reprimand them. Suddenly, Professor Everose wasn't her mentor - she was just... a person who thought she was in charge of them. She thought she knew better. But what did she know?

Aya wanted to ask if she knew about the fire that was burning Mr. St. John from the inside out. Or where Professor Pierce was. Or if she knew about Avalon.

She didn't get the chance though, when Charles started mouthing off to a teacher. Just like that, Aya was herself again, looking at him with wide eyes.

"He means we're sorry," Aya cut in, looking between the two. "And it won't happen again. He saw me crying as I left campus and followed me." Technically true. "This week's just been... a lot for us. We needed some time away from campus, so we were just shopping. We're really sorry."
Charles Gannon
&
Aya Lynn Germain

Location: Mall - Time: 12:00












@Brioko Jobe - The Mall - 11:05 AM















@Brioko Jobe - The Mall - 10:41 AM



It didn't take Aya as long to find this time, now that she knew what to look for - that stillness at the center of her mind, the indefinable point that let the rest of the world melt away. Her body was unimportant. Sensation was still there - the weighty envelope in her hand, the tickle of her hair against her face, lightly blown by the AC, the smell of espresso and sugar, the dull mechanical screech of the coffee grinder underneath a singer's falsetto. But it was all as distant as the stars, faint against the light of a full moon.

The dark of her mind wrapped itself around her. She wore it like a shroud.

Hiding in shadows.

The pen slid across the paper, crisp Japanese characters forming. Aya laid in wait. There was that prickling at the back of her mind again - a misplaced familiarity. It was a different texture though. While with the last one it'd been all coal dust and smoke blackening her lungs, this one was smoother… sharp and precise, like the burn of ginger or a single, high note of a violin. It was in front of her - but there was something else too.

It was so vast as to be meaningless - like the ocean, or the sky, or time itself. Aya was nothing compared to it. She was a single candle, burnt out in an instant. She was atoms of stardust, floating through space. The universe carelessly breathed life into her, only to discard her a moment later.

She’d be dead for eons longer than she’d ever be alive.

A nebula pulsed into existence, throwing stardust against suddenly visible shapes - a man and a woman. Dense stars outlined them, contouring their forms, giving them color, life. There was an air of intimacy. The two fit together like a tree grown around a forgotten skeleton, her head against his chest. Aya’s mind sparked in recognition.

Finvarra and Sena, someone else's thoughts supplied. She felt her eyes narrow as she watched them, muscles coiled like a jungle predator.

Aya didn’t know when it began, but a slow iciness crept its way through her body. It started as pinpricks in the tips of her fingers, in the pads of her toes and the back curve of her heel. It spread like frost, seeping into her skin, crawling up her wrists and ankles like a reminder.

Finvarra and Sena, a tear between realms.

The nebula spasmed behind Finvarra, blindingly bright. For a moment, the two were gone. Finvarra was unseeable, but Sena -

Wings flashed in her mind. The sleek feathers rippled with color, shining under their own light. A bird flew, too quick to grasp, regal and mythical, vibrant motes of light lingering in its wake.

Finvarra’s eyes didn’t leave Sena’s face as two serpents like golden tattoos curled their way up his arms. They drew him back towards the increasingly frantic nebula. They warred for his attention, serpents and phoenix, both pulling at him in their own way.

The chill snaked its way up her own limbs. It was deeper than physical cold - it slowed her very soul, coaxing, whispering.

Golden snakes pull him away from her.

The nebula grew, writhing, throwing more and more stardust through the air. Just as it had made Finvarra and Sena visible, it seemed to outline their voices, snippets of words carrying over to Aya.

"Two more… Farplane."

For the briefest moment, before the nebula swallowed him whole, Finvarra finally looked away from Sena - to look directly at her.

Aya suddenly realized what the darkness surrounding her truly was: a death shroud. She was already cold and stiff, wrapped in her shroud with gentle hands, and encased in her coffin. All that was left was the steady march towards her grave.

All that was left was to seal her away under the earth.

Aya strode forward with sure steps. Her chin was high. She had a job to do - orders to fulfill.

The iciness had nearly reached her heart, claiming her fully.

Sena watched her, expressionless save for her eyes. They watched Aya with disdain. Unconcerned.

Iridescent embers, the colors of an oil slick on sitting water, erupted around them. There was the sharp call of a falcon, piercing like a dagger.

Sena. A flash of color and a raptor's screech.

Sena was gone. Aya was gone. There was that solid whiteness again, that’d met her with the last envelope. Instinctively she knew she wouldn’t be able to see anything more.

But one fact rang clear and somber as a church bell in her mind.

I've died.





The Mall - 9:50 AM



Aya thanked the Lyft driver as she climbed out of the blue sedan. It'd been a quiet ride - after taking a look at her red, tear-stained face, the middle-aged driver had seen fit to leave her to her thoughts. He barely looked back at her as she closed the door, no doubt eager to run from a stranger's problems.

Pulling her bag strap over her shoulder, Aya made her way into the mall. It was wide and open, more of an enclosed street than a single building. Shops lined the path, doors open, wafting their perfumes or music or flashing screens, beckoning potetial customers. Aya couldn't focus on any of them. She felt the phantom weight of the envelopes in her bag, making each step heavy.

Aya spent the next hour or so wandering the mall, trying to distract herself. At one point she meandered into a shop stuffed to the brim with bath products - candles and lotions, colorful loofas hanging along a wall, glittery soaps, and body creams in wide, pastel jars. Aya had never liked these kinds of stores. The warring scents were too overwhelming, giving her a headache. But today, Aya found herself wandering through bright aisles, fingers trailing along the glossy labels. She paused on a bottle of lotion labeled Vanilla Dream, with the word tester written beneath it in thick Sharpie. Aya looked down at it. She picked it up, popping open the lid and squeezing a small dollop onto her hand. She rubbed the lotion into her hands, continuing her walk down the lotion aisle, eyes scanning the labels again.

Minty Morning.

Aya put a small squirt into her hand and then rubbed that into her skin, too. She brought her hands to her nose and gave a small sniff.

Immediately Aya's nose wrinkled, and she pulled her hands away. It was an odd combination, the mint smell overpowering the sweetness of the vanilla. Embarrassment flooded her. Aya left the store, hurrying to the bathroom to wash the lotion off her hands. The scent lingered.

She eventually found herself in a small, empty cafe, soft indie music playing over the speakers. She stared down at the stack of black envelopes on the table. They seemed to stare back at her. Aya felt her anxiety building in her stomach, up her chest, clogging her throat, coating her tongue. She took another sip of her half empty mocha. The paper bag that had once held her breakfast sandwich sat in a ruined ball in her other hand. Aya tried to swallow, tasting the chocolate of her drink, suddenly too sweet.

She pulled Professor Everose's notebook from her bag, flipping it open. The messy words of her last, chaotic session gave her pause - she hadn't realized she'd written in Japanese. Aya stared at them a moment longer before flipping to a new page. She gripped her pen too tightly in her hand, tip hovering just over the paper. Aya bit her lip. Then she picked up the second envelope and closed her eyes.





@almalthia Professor Kaylee Everose's Office - 9:36 AM



Aya's gaze fell to the little black envelope in her lap as Professor Everose spoke. Her mentor's words washed over her. Aya thought she understood. Or didn't. She wasn't sure she cared. Her head buzzed from all the air she'd taken in while crying, her breaths too quick and sporadic in her flurry of emotions.

The adrenaline was gone now, though.

She wasn't paying attention to the professor anymore. Whatever explanation she was giving didn't really matter. When Aya asked why she'd just gone through that experience, her question wasn't, 'How did it work?'

It was, 'Why did you ask me to do that?'

Whatever Aya had just seen... it wasn't meant for her. It was too intimate - too painful. She felt guilty, like a voyeur peering in and violating someone's privacy. And the cost of bearing witness had been to relive the worst moments of both of their lives. Aya felt shattered, grief like fresh blood staining her skin. And Professor Everose sat across from her, looking at her tear-stained face, drinking her coffee, and talking about 'attempting another.' Warm, patient, compassionate Professor Everose. The woman who'd taught her everything she knew about controlling her mutation. The reason she'd stayed.

Aya sniffled. She thought she might start crying again.

"Could I please -" The soft words stumbled in her throat, catching on Aya's raw edges. She closed her lips. Swallowed. "Could I finish the test in my room? I..."

I need to not be here.


And the professor gave Aya that understanding smile that she knew so well. Aya's eyes dropped to her lap again. The professor gave her permission, with a gentle reminder to bring the results in an envelope back to her. Without another word, Aya grabbed the envelopes and the notebook, scooped up her bag, and left Professor Everose's office.

Aya pressed her back against the wooden door once it closed. She looked up to the high ceiling, tears burning her eyes again. Aya tried to blink them away, taking in another shaking breath. A dam broke and the high breath of a sob escaped her, but Aya was quick to clap her hand back over her mouth, eyes squeezed shut. A hot tear ran down her cheek. Her shoulders trembled with the effort it took to not break down again in the hallway. Aya opened her eyes, wiping the tears from her face. She swallowed her grief again.

She needed to go.

She couldn't be here - in this hallway, in this school, on this campus. Not right now.

The impulse was too strong to question. With barely a thought, Aya was walking through the building, praying she didn't see any of her classmates and have to explain why she wasn't in class, or why she'd been crying. Soon enough she was across the courtyard, front gate stretching high above her.





@almalthia — Professor Kaylee Everose's Office - 9:20 AM



The professor’s voice was a distant light in a midnight harbor, too far to be reachable. But still, Aya tried to cling to it. Her hands gripped tight over her mouth, as if that would stop her crying. Her muscles tensed, her shoulders pulled up tight as they trembled.

She was so ashamed.

Aya didn’t know how long she cried for, but eventually her tears slowed. Her shaking breaths hiccuped into her lungs. She tried to follow the professor’s instructions, counting out the seconds. Sifting through the memories was an agonizing process, as Aya tried to remember which tragic reality was hers.

Papa was still dead. Mama had still left, run away back to Japan. She didn’t have any brothers. Papa had died of lung cancer. There’d been arrangements of flowers from his garden at the funeral, colorful bouquets of red ginger flowers, ferns, and birds of paradise. He had green eyes that Aya had inherited, before her mutation turned her irises black. There’d never been a motorcycle accident.

Eventually, Aya opened her eyes again. Her muscles were finally relaxed, energy depleted. She sat in the chair, feeling numb and hollowed. She was scraped raw, from the inside out. Aya sniffled.

Some part of her told her to apologize again. She opened her mouth.

”...What was that?” Her voice was small and fragile. She looked up to meet Professor Everose’s eyes. ”Why did I do that?”





@almalthia — Professor Kaylee Everose's Office - 8:20 AM










@almalthia — AP Calculus AB Class - 8:08 AM



Aya didn’t know whose idea it was to schedule AP Calculus at 8 o’clock in the morning, but she was fairly certain that person deserved to be fired.

She sat in her assigned seat, rubbing at her eyes as she flipped open her notebook. She hadn’t been sleeping much this past week. Between worrying about Uná and the mysterious man, her school work, her nightmares... but at the same time, the whole ordeal seemed to be growing more and more distant, like a faded picture that Aya might be able to just tuck away in a shoebox and hide under her bed. It didn’t fit into her mundane life, and so was an outlier to be written off.

It was disorienting. Wasn’t she traumatized? Did she want to be? Was she supposed to throw it all to the side and move on, or was that just denial dressing itself up as maturity? A small part of her coaxed, put it away. Let it rest and be forgotten, and it won’t be your responsibility. Ashford is handling it. You can be normal, if you only keep your head down and your mutation in check.

Her power still whispered to her. It still made her skin prickle, like a finger trailing its way up her spine. Something was wrong, something between this world and her world (and the world after that, as she was slowly coming to terms with) was out of sync, overlapping, tearing, phasing in and out of existence. But as her fear and memories muted themselves, and the events of that night replayed in her mind, they became less reality and more a story Aya told herself. Now, she couldn’t tell if that uneasiness she felt was her power actually alerting her, or the result of her own frantic mind.

When she lay awake in her bed at night, looking up at the yellow glow of stars on the ceiling and listening to the slow rhythm of Uná’s breathing, she pulled out her phone and typed in foreign words that she didn’t want to know. Sluagh. Tuatha da Danaan. The things she learned didn’t help her sleep.

There was a knock on the classroom door. Aya jumped in her seat. The students all turned their attention away from Professor Santos (and were thankful for the excuse). With a sigh, he walked to the door and opened it. Aya’s eyebrows drew together, hair prickling at the back of her neck.

It was Professor Everose.
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