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Fetzen
Qia
Lexisheeps
Crimson Flame
Izurich
Melissa
Jerkchicken
Divorarel
Tim the Yeti
Hound55Santa Fe, New Mexico
Garcia sat upon his mahogany leather chair in his office facing away from the door, almost as if it had affronted him and he couldn't stan looking at it anymore. He held a glass of scotch, a gift from a donor and only to be drunk when Garcia needed to relax, as he stared out the window. What had his life become? Growing up, his family always had a strong work ethic. His father toiled as a construction worker and his mother a nurse. Both were demanding jobs and, yet, he never heard a complaint. He also knew it was expected of him to maintain his household. His father had sat him down when he was only 8 years old and told him that a man ran his family. Secured it. Strengthed it. Made sure his house was in order. Often by any means necessary.
Garcia never saw the bruises until his mother was buried, God rest her soul.
And now he was sitting in his home that he built, his wife out doing who knows what or who and he hasn't seen or spoken to his daughters in years.
And yes, he said daughters. He didn't get to where he is following some woke liberal bullshit.
Garcia closed his eyes as his mind wandered through his family. His wife was a lost cause. She had checked out years prior, but she at least maintained the image. After all, it suited her well. She got expensive clothes, taken on expensive trips, ate at exclusive restaurants and attended exclusive parties. She was set up.
His oldest, Lilliana, because he damn well refused to call her whatever she decided to call herself this month, was also lost. Off gallivanting with that wife of hers and flat out refusing to let him see his grandchild. She was gone.
That left one.
Calliope.
Garcia slammed the glass on the desk, shattering it into pieces and leaving some small cuts as scotch and blood mixed.
He truly saw potential in her. She didn't talk back. She did as she was told. Good grades, perfect attendance, she did everything he had expected of her. And yet, she still disappointed him. The moment she displayed who she was, she was a failure. A freak. Everyone began talking about it and, by extension, him. All she had to do was hide it and she couldn't even get that right.
And now she was at that school in Canada doing who knew what. It wasn't like she called him with periodic updates. And his own attempts at finding out had been thwarted. Whoever ran the school over there was good. Perhaps another father would be relieved to know his child was at a school that protected them so heavily.
Not him. He needed to know what was going on with her. The more unknown, the less control he had. And Garcia needed control.
He stood up and cleaned up his mess, wrapping a bandage on his hand. The maid will take care of the rest. He walked over to his safe, hidden behind the painted family picture. And picked up the card he was given about five years ago. There wasn't much on it except a name along with a whispered promise to get him the control he craved so much.
Hyperion.
Calliope got ready as her roommate maneuvered around their shared space, talking on her phone. Calliope let it go in one ear and out the other. The school assembly in preparation for the Homecoming trials wasn't what she would call her favorite activity, but at least she would be amongst her friends. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her stuff and headed out. Hopefully her roommate followed suit. It would not serve her well.
Calliope didn't opt to go eat at the Mess Hall. She hadn't been feeling hungry for a bit now. Instead, she waited and met everyone outside with Tad. She sidled up to Banjo, linking her arm through his as they made their way to the Chimera's Lair.
School spirit was never a thing she had. She had always been forced into things to better herself or make her family look good, so she never cared about doing it because she liked her school. She didn't dislike PRCU, but she wasn't about the whole House points. She didn't actively seek to lose them points, but if she didn't contribute as much as maybe others wanted, that was just too damn bad. House Ursus never won anyway, it seemed.
At the stadium they took their seats. Calliope leaned against Banjo as the assembly was called to attention. She rose along with the others, but this, too, elicited an eye roll. She never understood pride for a country, but then again she wasn't Canadian. America had very little to be proud about.
After an introduction and talking about sports the mood seemed to visibly shift. Almost as if a wave of emotion hit the speaker. She leaned forward a bit in attention.
“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”
Calliope sucked in her breath. What did he say? The school would essentially be sending them out with a piece of paper that meant fuck all? And then had the nerve to say they would work to make sure they could be transferred to a new school so they could get a degree? Oh and how kind of them to foot the bill.
She couldn't do it anywhere else. There was no way.
"Yeah, what school would accept a freak like you?" Calliope shut her eyes. Her inner voice seemed to be screaming despite talking in a whisper.
"Think about it, your dad didn't want you, your home didn't want you, and now this school doesn't even want you." Calliope tried to calm the voice but it didn't seem to be working. She felt herself shake. Her hands clenched, but she felt resistance. A pushback.
Banjo. He had squeezed her hand. A simple communication meant that he knew what was happening. That centered her. It always did. She looked up, tears begging to be unleashed from their prison, but she held firm. She nodded.
The speeches continued anyway despite her wanting to run out of the stands. A woman took to the mic from the Alexandria Foundation. She appeared controlled. She spoke in a way that made Calliope think every word was deliberate. “As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it Mr. O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”
That struck a nerve. Who the help was this woman? As if on queue, Haven spoke up to voice her same question.
Calliope almost laughed after Haven threatened her, but Calliope wasn't in the mood. "Whoever she is, I hate her. If she thinks I'm doing anything to make her life easier here, she has another thing coming."
Ice ran through her words. She felt it surge. She stood up, "I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back." She told to Banjo and the others. She quickly scooted out, ready to get out of there.
She made her way into the restroom and checked to see if anyone else was there. Once she was sure she was alone, she turned to face the mirror. She gripped the counter and stared at herself.
All of the work she put in. Wasted. The friends she made. Stripped away. Her future plans essentially shot. She closed her eyes. She felt the world shift. It was a lot. She had been angry before, but she held it in. Sad? Stomped out. You didn't get to feel things. What was tat ironic Disney movie? Frozen. Conceal don't feel.
But once it started, it didn't stop. She felt it in her blood. The surge, the energy crackling. Soon, it unleashed.
The sink next to her made a guttural sound as ice shot out from it, cracking the faucet and counter in a kaleidoscope of crystal. Calliope fell back. She looked in horror and mild awe. It was back home all over again. Part of her felt bad, but also damn this school.
She collected herself and ran out, hoping no one would be going in there for a bit, though it wasn't like she could hide she did it. She made her way back into the stadium and met with Banjo, sitting down with force. "I'm fine," she said with some attitude. A simple warning. Don't poke the polar bear. Not yet.
God what was she going to do?
Garcia sat upon his mahogany leather chair in his office facing away from the door, almost as if it had affronted him and he couldn't stan looking at it anymore. He held a glass of scotch, a gift from a donor and only to be drunk when Garcia needed to relax, as he stared out the window. What had his life become? Growing up, his family always had a strong work ethic. His father toiled as a construction worker and his mother a nurse. Both were demanding jobs and, yet, he never heard a complaint. He also knew it was expected of him to maintain his household. His father had sat him down when he was only 8 years old and told him that a man ran his family. Secured it. Strengthed it. Made sure his house was in order. Often by any means necessary.
Garcia never saw the bruises until his mother was buried, God rest her soul.
And now he was sitting in his home that he built, his wife out doing who knows what or who and he hasn't seen or spoken to his daughters in years.
And yes, he said daughters. He didn't get to where he is following some woke liberal bullshit.
Garcia closed his eyes as his mind wandered through his family. His wife was a lost cause. She had checked out years prior, but she at least maintained the image. After all, it suited her well. She got expensive clothes, taken on expensive trips, ate at exclusive restaurants and attended exclusive parties. She was set up.
His oldest, Lilliana, because he damn well refused to call her whatever she decided to call herself this month, was also lost. Off gallivanting with that wife of hers and flat out refusing to let him see his grandchild. She was gone.
That left one.
Calliope.
Garcia slammed the glass on the desk, shattering it into pieces and leaving some small cuts as scotch and blood mixed.
He truly saw potential in her. She didn't talk back. She did as she was told. Good grades, perfect attendance, she did everything he had expected of her. And yet, she still disappointed him. The moment she displayed who she was, she was a failure. A freak. Everyone began talking about it and, by extension, him. All she had to do was hide it and she couldn't even get that right.
And now she was at that school in Canada doing who knew what. It wasn't like she called him with periodic updates. And his own attempts at finding out had been thwarted. Whoever ran the school over there was good. Perhaps another father would be relieved to know his child was at a school that protected them so heavily.
Not him. He needed to know what was going on with her. The more unknown, the less control he had. And Garcia needed control.
He stood up and cleaned up his mess, wrapping a bandage on his hand. The maid will take care of the rest. He walked over to his safe, hidden behind the painted family picture. And picked up the card he was given about five years ago. There wasn't much on it except a name along with a whispered promise to get him the control he craved so much.
Hyperion.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal Campus
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Welcome Home #1.45: Fractured
Calliope got ready as her roommate maneuvered around their shared space, talking on her phone. Calliope let it go in one ear and out the other. The school assembly in preparation for the Homecoming trials wasn't what she would call her favorite activity, but at least she would be amongst her friends. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her stuff and headed out. Hopefully her roommate followed suit. It would not serve her well.
Calliope didn't opt to go eat at the Mess Hall. She hadn't been feeling hungry for a bit now. Instead, she waited and met everyone outside with Tad. She sidled up to Banjo, linking her arm through his as they made their way to the Chimera's Lair.
School spirit was never a thing she had. She had always been forced into things to better herself or make her family look good, so she never cared about doing it because she liked her school. She didn't dislike PRCU, but she wasn't about the whole House points. She didn't actively seek to lose them points, but if she didn't contribute as much as maybe others wanted, that was just too damn bad. House Ursus never won anyway, it seemed.
At the stadium they took their seats. Calliope leaned against Banjo as the assembly was called to attention. She rose along with the others, but this, too, elicited an eye roll. She never understood pride for a country, but then again she wasn't Canadian. America had very little to be proud about.
After an introduction and talking about sports the mood seemed to visibly shift. Almost as if a wave of emotion hit the speaker. She leaned forward a bit in attention.
“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”
Calliope sucked in her breath. What did he say? The school would essentially be sending them out with a piece of paper that meant fuck all? And then had the nerve to say they would work to make sure they could be transferred to a new school so they could get a degree? Oh and how kind of them to foot the bill.
She couldn't do it anywhere else. There was no way.
"Yeah, what school would accept a freak like you?" Calliope shut her eyes. Her inner voice seemed to be screaming despite talking in a whisper.
"Think about it, your dad didn't want you, your home didn't want you, and now this school doesn't even want you." Calliope tried to calm the voice but it didn't seem to be working. She felt herself shake. Her hands clenched, but she felt resistance. A pushback.
Banjo. He had squeezed her hand. A simple communication meant that he knew what was happening. That centered her. It always did. She looked up, tears begging to be unleashed from their prison, but she held firm. She nodded.
The speeches continued anyway despite her wanting to run out of the stands. A woman took to the mic from the Alexandria Foundation. She appeared controlled. She spoke in a way that made Calliope think every word was deliberate. “As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it Mr. O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”
That struck a nerve. Who the help was this woman? As if on queue, Haven spoke up to voice her same question.
Calliope almost laughed after Haven threatened her, but Calliope wasn't in the mood. "Whoever she is, I hate her. If she thinks I'm doing anything to make her life easier here, she has another thing coming."
Ice ran through her words. She felt it surge. She stood up, "I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back." She told to Banjo and the others. She quickly scooted out, ready to get out of there.
She made her way into the restroom and checked to see if anyone else was there. Once she was sure she was alone, she turned to face the mirror. She gripped the counter and stared at herself.
All of the work she put in. Wasted. The friends she made. Stripped away. Her future plans essentially shot. She closed her eyes. She felt the world shift. It was a lot. She had been angry before, but she held it in. Sad? Stomped out. You didn't get to feel things. What was tat ironic Disney movie? Frozen. Conceal don't feel.
But once it started, it didn't stop. She felt it in her blood. The surge, the energy crackling. Soon, it unleashed.
The sink next to her made a guttural sound as ice shot out from it, cracking the faucet and counter in a kaleidoscope of crystal. Calliope fell back. She looked in horror and mild awe. It was back home all over again. Part of her felt bad, but also damn this school.
She collected herself and ran out, hoping no one would be going in there for a bit, though it wasn't like she could hide she did it. She made her way back into the stadium and met with Banjo, sitting down with force. "I'm fine," she said with some attitude. A simple warning. Don't poke the polar bear. Not yet.
God what was she going to do?
