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3 days ago
Current Stop spamming you spammy spammer!! >:|
8 likes
5 days ago
Canada Dry with lemonade sounds like a quick trip to diabetes town.
5 days ago
CANADA DRY SUPREMACY! LONG LIVE CANADA DRY!!!!! šŸ‡ØšŸ‡¦
8 days ago
One day I'll feel ready for the world.
11 likes
20 days ago
Don't you mean dye-a-log-? Get it right
1 like

Bio

Hi, Qia here <3. I'm a gamer and RP fan just looking to have a good time.

Most Recent Posts

A

As they were escorted from the dimly lit cell, Aā€™s mind raced with a whirlwind of possibilities, desperately searching for any weakness she could exploit to turn the dire situation to their advantage. Up to this point, her resolve had remained unshaken, even in the face of overwhelming obstacles that would have broken lesser spirits. Yet, a flicker of doubt crept into her thoughts as her eyes locked onto a nearby scientist, who stood ominously with a syringe in hand, a precautionary measure meant to ensure compliance. Which meant there was no escaping what came next as she was brought under that familiar darkness.

As the memory washed over A, she found herself sinking to her knees, the weight of the past crushing down upon her like an unrelenting tide. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision and making it difficult to see what was in front of her. The cold, unforgiving floor felt like ice beneath her, a harsh contrast to the searing pain that still lingered from the crash. Each breath she took was a struggle as if the very air was thick with the ghosts of her past.

A felt a fleeting sense of relief as the haunting visions dissipated, but it was short-lived. A suffocating presence soon enveloped her, wrapping around her like a shroud. She felt a dread unlike any she had ever experienced before, as the presence loomed closer, its enormity eclipsing everything around her, casting long, dark shadows. Its words reverberated through her mind, each syllable dripping with malice, offering a sinister promise of power in exchange for their suffering and grief. The temptation to succumb to the darkness, to surrender to the pain and receive the promised power in return, was almost too much to bear. It was a seductive whisper that gnawed at her resolve, threatening to pull her into an abyss from which there might be no return.

Yet, as soon as it started, it was over just as quickly. A regained consciousness in a surge of panic, the unfamiliar sensation of the stitch marks on her chest sending a shiver down her spine. Her gaze darted frantically to her friends, taking in their own identical marks and the metal cuffs that bound them to their gurneys.

VV's voice pierced through the haze of confusion, her question lingering in the air as A struggled to make sense of their dire situation. The woman's announcement did little to quell her fear; the prospect of facing the enigmatic leader of the Wilds sent another wave of dread coursing through her body.

As the reality of their predicament sank in, however, A felt a sudden surge of anger mingled with her fear. They had been used, their bodies violated and transformed against their will, only to be sent out on a dangerous mission for the very people who had imprisoned them. The injustice of it all fueled her determination to fight back, to take control of their fate.

"We won't do it," she said then, her voice stronger than she felt. "We're not your pawns to be used and discarded."


Interactions: Sunni-@The Savant

ā€œGood morning,ā€ Sunni repeated, this time more confidently and calmly.

ā€œGood morning,ā€ Elara replied softly. Her calm and reassuring tone was like a gentle breeze, easing the tense atmosphere ever so slightly. The man appeared to be responding more positively to her presence now, his initial wariness giving way to a tentative sense of trust, though a hint of unease still lingered in his eyes. At least he didnā€™t run away, she thought, taking solace in this small but significant sign of progress.

As he listlessly pushed the food around in his bowl, Elara did her best to offer a warm, encouraging smile, hoping to break through the cloud of discontent that hung over him. It was evident that something significant and troubling had occurred before her arrival, casting a shadow over the morning. ā€œIā€™m doing alright,ā€ she replied, her voice gentle yet probing. ā€œBut Iā€™m more concerned about what happened here. It seems like itā€™s been a tough morning.ā€ Her eyes searched his face for any clues, trying to understand the depth of the situation.

It couldnā€™t possibly be about that right?

But it was just as Elara feared, her heart sinking at Sunniā€™s words. She dropped her gaze, her hand instinctively playing with a strand of her hair in a nervous gesture.

Octavia had been honest with Flynn, just as the handmaiden had asked her to be.

Regret washed over her almost immediately at this realization, a heavy, suffocating feeling that settled deep in her chest. She should have just kept her naive mouth closed, as was expected in these kinds of personal matters. Now, the consequences of her well-intentioned honesty loomed large, and she couldnā€™t shake the feeling that she had made a grave mistake.

ā€œThisā€¦might be my fault,ā€ she admitted, surprising herself with the confession. She lacked the courage to look up and gauge the otherā€™s reaction though, her eyes remaining fixed on the floor. ā€œIā€™d encouraged Octavia to be honest with Flynn about something, and nowā€¦ now everything seems to be falling apart.ā€

ā€œI donā€™t think I can honestly stomach anything right now.ā€

I'll have a post up by tomorrow or Friday :)
Interactions: Sunni-@The Savant

Elara felt it all before she saw any clues. The tension in the air was palpable, wrapping around her like an invisible shroud. Her heart pounded fiercely within her chest, each beat echoing the growing sense of unease. As she approached the front door of the wooden cabin, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then she heard it. The odd silence.

It was deafening. An oppressive stillness that only served to amplify her anxiety.

Elara had half a mind to turn around and conjure up some pitiful excuse as to why she couldn't work today or attend the meeting. Instead, she found herself pausing at the door, her hand hovering over the wooden handle. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other side, and with a gentle push, the door creaked open.

The cabin remained eerily quiet as Elara stepped inside, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. The dim light provided by the moon filtered through the windows, adding to the sombre atmosphere. In the kitchen, she found Sunni standing alone, leaning heavily against the counter as he slowly ate his food. His expression was distant, eyes unfocused, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts. The plates of food, covered with cloth, also seemed to hint at the recent turmoil that had disrupted their lives.

This was far from normal. Her princess was almost always the first to rise, her hums a melodic sound that filled the cabin as she prepared breakfast. The scent of freshly baked bread and brewed tea would usually waft through the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Even the prince, with his usual morning routines, would have been up by now. The absence of these familiar sounds and sights was jarring. Furthermore, someone would have surely made the effort to greet a guest, familiar or not, in the early hours of the morning. These were all clear indications that something was amiss.

Elaraā€™s stomach tightened at the sight but found herself moving closer either way, her silver hair shimmering in the dim light filtering through the window. ā€œSunni,ā€ she said softly, her voice carrying a note of concern. ā€œAre you alright?ā€ She glanced again at the covered food before her gaze returned to him, her mouth shooting out a barrage of questions regarding her charge now. ā€œIs the princess not hungry? Is she unwell? Or is she simply tired?ā€

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Science Wing - Pacific Royal Campus
Take On Me #3.036: You're So Vain
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): Unknown Number / Nameless Insignificance
Previously: Wing to Wing


ā€˜Hey Rora, I was thinking it would be great to do something fun together tonight or maybe tomorrow if today is too sudden. How about we plan a movie night?ā€™


ā€˜Alternatively, we could go shopping with the girls. I think most of us still need to get dresses for the dance. What do you think? Let me know! šŸ˜Šā€™


A flutter of anxiety surged through Harper as she pressed the send button and placed her phone down with a shaky hand. Her fingers immediately began to drum lightly on the desk, a subconscious attempt to release her pent-up nervous energy. Please, please say yes, she silently begged, her eyes flickering back to the phone every few seconds. The past few days had been tough for everyone, but she felt that Aurora, most of all, needed a break from everything that had happened.

All the while, her professor continued his lecture at the front of the room. Despite her best efforts to stay attentive, Harper found the whole thing to be a monotonous drone that did little to capture her interest. His voice, steady and unchanging, created an almost hypnotic rhythm, each word blending seamlessly into the next. The classroomā€™s dim lighting and the soft hum of the air conditioning only added to the soporific atmosphere. The brunetteā€™s eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute, and she blinked rapidly, trying to fend off the drowsiness that threatened to pull her under. She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, hoping that a change in position might help her stay awake. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of her laptop now, a silent plea for the lecture to end. The clock on the wall seemed to move at a glacial pace though, each tick adding to her struggle to remain conscious.

The sudden buzz of her phone on the table shattered the monotony of the lecture, jolting Harper from her drowsy state. Her heart skipped an anticipatory beat as she glanced over, a flicker of hope igniting within her. The screen lit up, displaying a message from an unknown numberā€”one she did not recognize immediately. Her excitement quickly evaporated, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment. Not Aurora. The brief surge of hope dissipated like a popped balloon, leaving her feeling deflated.

On the preview of the message, she read the words ā€˜Hi???ā€™, finally sparking a flicker of recognition. Her memory quickly pieced together who it might be: one of the few contacts she had reached out to earlier, someone she barely knew and whose name she'd never bothered to save. She recalled having to coordinate with this person in the past, their interactions marked by a lack of cooperation and a palpable tension. One she desperately hoped wasnā€™t present still. There were notes to be borrowed, after all.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before she tapped to open the message, bracing herself for the snarky tone she was likely to receive.

And did.

Attempt #1: Fail

ā€˜Hi!!! Were you here for Mattā€™s Biochem class yesterday? Missed it šŸ˜£.ā€™


ā€˜Hi??? You missed a lot then! but I guess thatā€™s what happens when you skip class. Maybe try showing up next time? šŸ™‚ā€™


And there it was. Typical, Harper thought, shaking her head slightly, feeling her frustration bubbling to the surface. Her fingers flew across the screen, typing out a response before she could fully think it through.

ā€˜Thanks for the life advice, Dr. Phil. Now, about those notesā€¦?ā€™


With a sigh, she backtracked the message, deleting the text with a few quick taps. Closing her eyes, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, exasperation etched across her features. This wasnā€™t the time for a petty argument; she needed those notes, if only to guide her still foggy mind.

ā€œYou got a pretty nasty hit there,ā€ one of the healers that had attended to her had remarked, their voice gentle yet concerned. ā€œSo far, there doesnā€™t seem to be anything to worry about, but if you find yourself struggling donā€™t hesitate to reach out, okay?ā€

Harper had merely nodded her head at the time, her face a mask of inscrutability. Sheā€™d had zero intentions of seeing anyone. Because here was the thing:

She despised hospitals.

She had spent too many hours in the cold, impersonal atmosphere she associated with them growing up. And if things continued on their current trajectory, she knew that feeling of dread and anxiety would never go away. And she needed it to go away. But not like that.

Pushing aside her irritation, Harper took a deep breath and typed out a new message.

ā€˜Look, I really need notes for what I missed. Can you help me or not?ā€™


She paused for a second, rereading the message. It was direct, perhaps a bit too blunt, but she didnā€™t have the energy to sugarcoat her request. Harper hit send, watching as the message disappeared into the digital ether.

The response came quickly, the tone unmistakably cold and cutting.

ā€˜You really have a lot of nerve. Donā€™t tell me you 4got all about it?ā€™


Harper frowned, racking her brain for what they might have been referring to. As if having read her mind, her phone buzzed again, a new message lighting up the screen.

ā€˜You told me that I was incompetent and pretty much unreliable cus of it. All because I had a ā€˜poor track recordā€™.ā€™


Harperā€™s frown deepened. The words stung now, but she couldnā€™t deny having said them when she gave it some thought. She had always prided herself on being straightforward, but perhaps she had been too harsh here. Before she could formulate a response, however, another message appeared.

ā€˜So, why would you want anything from me, Sergeant Baxter?ā€™


Harper blinked, her head tilting to the side in vague interest as she realized something. Wow, proper grammar this time, and through text too. Thatā€™s new. And they'd only been texting for five minutes!

She was so proud.

A smirk curled on her lips like a cat stretching in the sun, her fingers moving to type a response.

ā€˜But look at how much youā€™ve improved already!!!ā€™


Harper, of course, did not send this message either. Her actual response instead showed the amount of sincerity she could muster at that moment.

ā€˜ohhh mbbbbb! šŸ˜“ā€™


Right šŸ–•


Harper's fingers stilled, her smirk fading as she stared at the screen. The message hit harder than she'd expected, her earlier irritation giving way to a sinking feeling of regret. She put her phone down, her fingers drumming restlessly on the desk once more.
Interactions: N/A / Open

The soft, silvery glow of the moon filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a pale light across Elaraā€™s room. The gentle illumination highlighted the roomā€™s cozy details: the intricately woven rug on the floor, the shelves lined with well-loved books, and the delicate lace of the curtains themselves. The air was cool and refreshing, a light breeze rustling the fabric and carrying with it the fresh, earthy scent of the cloudy morning outside. On her bedside table, the royal summons lay open, its bright parchment evident against the dark, polished wood. The ornate lettering and the royal seal at the bottom were unmistakable, a clear indication of the importance of the message it contained.

Yet, despite the gravity of the royal summons and the urgency it clearly conveyed, Elaraā€™s mind was elsewhere, consumed by the unexpected events of the previous night.

Or, really, just one event, in particular, she was ashamed to admit to herself.

The memory of Sunniā€™s confession played over and over in her mind, each replay bringing with it a fresh wave of emotion. She had tried to maintain a brave face in the aftermath, to appear composed and unaffected, but inside, she was anything but. As the night wore on, Elara had found no solace in sleep either. She had spent the hours tossing and turning, her mind unable to quiet the relentless replay of his words. Different versions of it played over and over in her head, each one more troubling than the last. Yet one thing that never changed in each one was the tremor in his voice, the earnestness in his eyes, and the weight of his words pressing down on her as he rambled on.

A wave of anxiety washed over her, making her stomach churn. Elara stood up, her legs feeling unsteady, and began to pace the room, trying to shake off the lingering unease. Her mind began scrutinizing every word, every nuance of her own reply. Had she been too gentle with him? Should she have been firmer, more resolute in her response? Should she have insisted more strongly that she simply could not return his feelings? For how could she, when her heart and her duties had always been with the Princess?

The parchment on her bedside table fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze, the movement catching Elaraā€™s eye and drawing her attention back to the royal summons. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the passage of time. It was almost 7 am, and the town meeting was only a few hours away.

Three hours. In less than three hours, Iā€™ll know what to say, was the thought that flitted through Elaraā€™s mind as she left her room, grabbing her cloak on the way out the door.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Strigidae Dorms - Pacific Royal Campus
Take on Me #3.031: Wing to Wing
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): Haven (hey gurl heyyyyy)@Skai
Previously: Letā€™s Perch for a While


Harperā€™s heart ached as she listened to Havenā€™s story. She could see the pain and uncertainty in her friendā€™s eyes, and it mirrored her own in so many ways. Despite her own exhaustion, she couldnā€™t turn Haven away. Not now.

ā€œOf course, Haven,ā€ Harper said softly, her voice steady despite the weariness that clung to her. ā€œIā€™ll sit with you. Weā€™ll look it up together.ā€

She gestured to the bed, inviting Haven to sit down. As Haven settled in, Harper moved the textbook aside, making space for her laptop.

ā€œWe can probably try the adminā€™s office in a little while,ā€ she said, her voice thoughtful as she considered their options. ā€œBut first, maybe we can find something about her or the school online with what you can remember.ā€ Harperā€™s fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type, while her gaze remained fixed on Haven, mustering a reassuring smile.

Haven took a breath as she adjusted her legs underneath her. She looked at Harper, finding it hard to speak the name of the girl's home, but she found assurance in Harperā€™s expression. She was glad that she was doing this with someone who cared.

ā€œI was at a girls' home called Elk Mountain. It was in Michigan, but I donā€™t remember where really. I think the full name was just Elk Mountain Home for Girls.ā€

She moved to set her bag down on the floor beside her as Harper typed away. Her heart was already twisting as she turned back, her eyes searching the screen for anything that looked familiar. She couldnā€™t believe that she was hoping to find it there, instead of burying it deep within her soul once more.

ā€œHer name was Anabel. I donā€™t remember her last name.ā€

Harperā€™s fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed ā€œElk Mountain Home for Girls Michiganā€ into the search bar. The screen filled with results, and she quickly scanned through them, looking for anything that might be relevant.

ā€œOkay, letā€™s see what we have here,ā€ she said, clicking on a link that seemed promising. ā€œThereā€™s a mention of Elk Mountain Academy, but it looks like itā€™s a residential treatment center for troubled girls.ā€ She clicked on an image showing the place-

And stared at it for a moment, blinking and leaning closer as if it would help her take in what she was looking at. The building in the image was a large, old-fashioned brick structure with ivy creeping up its walls. Tall windows lined the front, and a neatly manicured lawn stretched out before it, dotted with a few benches and trees. Her brow furrowed slightly as she read the caption:

ā€œFor girls, lost and found, who need a safe and supportive environment to heal and grow.ā€

ā€œIsā€¦this it?ā€ she whispered, her voice barely audible. There was something strange about the place, but what it was exactly remained elusive.

Havenā€™s heart leapt into her throat as the images displayed on the screen. She knew that ivy all too well. The lawn that was better fed and cared for than the occupants within the home. It looked almost the same as the night sheā€™d left it. As for the homeā€™s motto, it seemed foreign and heartless. Sheā€™d never thought of it as a safe or supportive space. Not even before she met Anabel, or had grown the wings that now ruffled subtly on her back.

ā€œAre thereā€¦ pictures of the inside? I need to make sure.ā€

Harperā€™s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she nodded. ā€œIā€™m sure we can find some interior photos,ā€ she said. Surely the place had scheduled tours for those wishing to adopt, which, if they were lucky enough, would also mean the website would have a section dedicated to displaying how things looked on the inside for prospective parents.

Bingo, she thought, a smirk playing on her lips as she clicked the section at the top labelled Gallery. As the page loaded, a series of photos appeared, showing various rooms inside the home. Harperā€™s eyes scanned the images, her earlier apprehension fading away. Maybe it had been nothing?

ā€œSo, anything?ā€ she asked Haven, glancing over at her friend with a hopeful expression.

The photos inside looked nothing like Haven remembered. She leaned forward, gold and green eyes searching the images for any resemblance. She found the similarities in the architecture, and in the spaces that remained. ā€œItā€¦ looks different. But I see how the walls are the same shape. And the rooms are as big as they used to be, but they changed the paint and floors.ā€

ā€œThey just made it look nicer.ā€

Although her voice never wavered, Haven felt the familiar sensations of anguish as she remembered how the rooms used to look. How the halls used to feel as she walked through them. That ever-present sensation that she was doing something wrong, just by existing. She leaned away from the screen as she pulled air into her lungs. When she spoke, her voice was low and haunted, but confident.

ā€œThatā€™s it. Soā€¦ is there any way we can look up who might have stayed there?ā€

ā€œWe can try,ā€ Harper said, her eyes betraying a flicker of doubt. ā€œThere might be some records or alumni lists online. If not, we could contact the institution directly.ā€

She resumed typing, her fingers moving with a determined precision. ā€œLetā€™s see if we can find anything here first,ā€ she murmured, more to herself than to Haven. The screen filled with search results, and Harper clicked through them methodically, her brow furrowing slightly with each click.

As they continued their search, the room grew quieter, the soft tapping of keys, Havenā€™s breathing, and the rapid thumping of Harperā€™s heart being the only sounds. She couldnā€™t help but feel a pang of envy at Havenā€™s ability to confront her past, to seek out answers despite the very real possibility that they might not find anything on her old friend. How could the other woman deal with it all? Wasnā€™t it painful? Tiring?

ā€œHere,ā€ Harper said, pointing to a link that seemed promising. ā€œThis looks like a forum for former residents. Maybe someone there can help.ā€

Haven found herself watching Harper work as much as she watched the screen pass through link after search after link. She was grateful for Harper. Not only because sheā€™d chosen to help, but also because she had a wealth of knowledge. Haven had felt disappointment gathering in her chest after the first few useless links, while Harper just kept on going.

She looked over her freshly cut locks, the new length adding new depth to the brunetteā€™s face. Her eyes traced the heart-shaped face and the small nose. With Harperā€™s hair this short, she realized something that floated away on a breeze the moment her teammate found a promising link.

Eagle eyes scanned the page quickly. Her hopeful fingers reached out to the laptop, taking over the touchpad to scroll on her own. ā€œDo you think sheā€™d see it if I made a post? Iā€™m not seeing her name.ā€ Anabel could have changed it, for all she knew. Her old friend might have wanted a new name to go with her fresh start, if sheā€™d been adopted. Haven could only hope that had been the case.

ā€œI think itā€™s worth a shot,ā€ Harper said. ā€œEven if she changed her name, someone might recognize the details you share.ā€ She leaned back slightly, giving Haven space to type. As she did, her hand instinctively moved to the scar on her cheek, her fingers tracing the lines there.

ā€œPeople remember best the strong memories,ā€ Harper muttered faintly, her eyes distant for a moment. ā€œThe ones that leave a markā€¦ whether theyā€™re good or bad.ā€

Haven had already begun to figure out how to create an account, her eyes scanning each word to make sure she did it correctly. Her fingers hesitated as she heard Harper. She could see her touching that horrible word on her cheek in her peripherals. Haven turned her head towards the brunette, her eyes sad and soft. ā€œI donā€™t want to pressure you, butā€¦ You know Iā€™m here for you, right? You can tell me anything.ā€

She let silence hang for a moment, making sure Harper understood her words. ā€œIā€™m just a text away if you need anything.ā€ She reached for Harperā€™s free hand, like sheā€™d reached for her that day the brunette had helped her, and she squeezed it gently.

Her eyes turned back to the screen so that Harper wouldnā€™t have to answer if she didnā€™t want to. Her hands occupied themselves with creating a profile, and then moved onto her post. She was at a loss for words, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment. What could she say to grab Anabelā€™s attention? What memory, good or bad, could make it obvious that she was looking for her? Haven chewed on her bottom lip as she scoured her memories.

Harper felt the warmth of Havenā€™s hand, the gentle squeeze grounding her in what was occurring. She looked at the other woman, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears while her heart swelled.

ā€œThank you, Haven,ā€ Harper replied, glancing down at her hands and wrapping her fingers around Havenā€™s before reluctantly letting them go. Her lips curved into a small, fragile smile, a silent acknowledgment of the support she desperately needed but still found so hard to accept.

The last thing the brunette wanted was for any of this to change. Havenā€™s admiration of her was something she cherished deeply. She clung to it like a lifeline, her beacon of light in her darkest moment. The thought of losing it over something that happened, and something that almost did, was immensely unbearable. Her chest tightened at the mere possibility, a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. She couldnā€™t bear the idea of Haven looking at her differently, of the warmth in her friendā€™s eyes turning to disappointment or pity.

Or revulsion.

She watched as the other woman turned back to the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, her hesitation clear as day. Harper could see the uncertainty in Havenā€™s eyes, the way her brows furrowed slightly as she searched for the right words. It was a small comfort, knowing that Haven was struggling too, that she wasnā€™t alone in her confusion and fear.

Perhapsā€¦perhaps she could share what was bothering her. But at the right time.

ā€œMaybe start with something specific,ā€ Harper suggested gently, her voice encouraging. ā€œA memory that only the two of you would share. Something that would stand out to her, even if she doesnā€™t recognize your name right away.ā€

Havenā€™s brow furrowed deeper as her lips pursed, but she nodded in agreement. She didnā€™t think about how Anabel may not recognize her name. She hated to admit it, but she was also worried one of the other girls would see the message too. The cruelty that could come of it would only harm her further. She didnā€™t know how much more of their bullying she could take after the trial had subjected her to it again.

She tucked the stray hairs around her face into the space behind her ear, before her hands returned to the keyboard with determination as she began to type:

A,
You found me under my bed when we first met. I drew the stars on the bottom of the frame. I hid there when I was lonely, and you hid there when you were scared. We hid there together when we stole jello cups from the kitchen.

I couldnā€™t say goodbye and Iā€™m sorry. I hope you learned to spread your wings like me.
H


Havenā€™s fingers lingered over the keys as she ran over the lines of text multiple times. There was a bittersweet feeling in her stomach. A painful nostalgia, but she found herself only missing the person and not the place. In a way, just leaving the message on the forum felt like the best closure she was going to get. If Anabel saw the message, it was up to her to reach out.

ā€œ The other girls thereā€¦ they were the reason I left.ā€ Haven murmured softly, her eyes reading the message for the fifth time. ā€œI donā€™t want them to know itā€™s me, soā€¦ do you think this is enough for Anabel?ā€ She turned her eyes to Harper, her worry present in the line between her brows.

Harper reached out, gently placing a hand on Havenā€™s shoulder, her fingers lightly brushing the wings there. She could feel the tension in Havenā€™s muscles, the unspoken fears that lay just beneath the surface. ā€œI think itā€™s perfect,ā€ she said honestly. An encouraging smile flitted across her lips, a brief moment of warmth before it faded. She removed her hand, her teeth coming to dance across her lip as she gathered her thoughts.

Now. Now was the time.

ā€œWhatā€¦Is that what the simulation showed for you? Those girlsā€¦?ā€

Havenā€™s breath hitched, her eyes flitting to the screen as she saw the images of the trial flashing before her instead of her message in a bottle. She hit the enter button, watching as her second olive branch of the day was carried through electrical pulses into the openness of the internet.

ā€œItā€¦ showed me what might happen, whatā€™s already happened, and what could have been.ā€ She turned her gaze back to Harper now, her forest eyes haunted. ā€œWhen I lived at Elk Mountain, I grew my wings. Anabel was the only one who didnā€™t think I was a...ā€

Her voice trailed off as her eyes were drawn to the scarred letters on Harperā€™s cheek, and then she immediately cast them downwards as the memories haunted the both of them.

ā€œA freak?ā€ Harper eventually finished for her, her voice trembling slightly as she forced the word out. The sound of it made her flinch, her body recoiling as if the word were still being physically carved into her skin. A considerable silence followed, the air thick with pain ready to be released through spoken word.

Harper could still see it, the mocking glint in those eyes, sharp and cutting like the blade that was used to mar her. She could still hear the cruel laughter echoing in her ears like a haunting melody. It was as if the room itself had absorbed the taunts, replaying them over and over in a relentless loop now that she was ready to express her truth.

ā€œI got the scar on my cheek from my personā€¦among other things,ā€ she continued, her jaw tightening as she spoke. Her hands reached up to tug at the zip of her hoodie, pulling it down and throwing it aside unceremoniously, revealing the jagged lines etched into her arms.

ā€œExcept the funny thing wasā€¦she did think I was a freak.ā€ Harperā€™s lips twisted into a bitter smile, her eyes darkening as she looked away, unable to meet Havenā€™s gaze. She could feel the old wounds reopening, the memories flooding back with a vengeance. She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the sudden chill that seemed to seep into her very bones.

ā€œI needed to survive. But more so than anything, I wanted to wipe that ugly fucking smirk from her face.ā€

When Harper flinched because of the word, Haven only felt the muscles in her back tighten as she pulled her wings in closer. She moved her eyes from the screen to register Harperā€™s reaction to it, shamefully curious about how her friend had come to be called the name. It was obvious that it still stung the brunette to think of it. Where Haven had grown used to it many years ago and gathered strength to ignore it when she could.

Havenā€™s gaze followed the horrible lines down Harperā€™s arms with pained recognition. The simulation had surely done its job well in the remaining scars on both the flesh and the mind. She wanted to embrace Harper, to comfort her as the short-haired woman processed the lingering pain, but her own pain kept her still. Haven could only listen while Harper continued to unleash the horrors that sheā€™d been subjected to.

A melancholic smile spread across her tanned features as she heard Harperā€™s fury hidden beneath the shaking in her voice. ā€œI couldnā€™t even fight backā€¦ā€ She started, a subtle pride shining in her eyes as she looked over at her companion. ā€œIā€™m proud of you for defending yourself, even if it haunts you that you harmed a simulated version of your bully.ā€

ā€œI like to think that those girls took their own anger at the world, and their situation, and used it against me. Like I was an easy out for them to act as cruelly as they did. Yet theyā€¦ they gave me the courage to find my own way. To break free of what society wanted from me.ā€

ā€œMaybe yours felt the same way, even if the simulation made her seem cruel. And now you can use it to give you strength, too.ā€

Harper felt a wave of emotion wash over her as she listened to Havenā€™s words. The pride in Havenā€™s voice, the understanding in her eyesā€”it was almost too much to stomach. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. How often was she going to be brought to tears this week? The room seemed to blur around her regardless, the only clear thing being Havenā€™s face, filled with compassion and unwavering support.

Sheā€™d been a fool. Of course, Haven of all people would be able to understand her. She had spent all this time building walls around herself, convinced that no one could truly grasp the depth of her pain, of what sheā€™d been through, of what sheā€™d been forced to do.

But Havenā€”Haven had always been different.

She drank it, practically drowned herself, in that truth, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind saying But you havenā€™t told her everything .

Because for now, it was enough. To be understood for who she was right now.

Harperā€™s arms reached out instinctively, pulling the other woman into a tight hug. She was careful to steer clear of Havenā€™s wings, not wanting to crush them under the weight of her arms and emotions.

ā€œSociety doesnā€™t deserve you. Youā€™re too good for it,ā€ Harper murmured, her voice thick with sincerity and admiration. She buried her face in Havenā€™s shoulder, the warmth of the hug seeping into her very soul.

Havenā€™s heart felt like it was being squeezed by empathy as she realized Harper was holding back tears. It distracted her mind from the memories that usually seized her body. So as Harper pulled her into the hug, she didnā€™t flinch. She didnā€™t shake as arms held her tightly. This was Harper, the closest thing she had to a family now besides Rory and her team. She found herself welcoming the embrace. Her arms cautiously wrapped around Harperā€™s back before securing themselves in a tight hug.

She felt tears pricking at her eyes as Harper spoke those loving words. Sheā€™d never heard them before. It was a strange type of comfort, being told that she was too good for anything. Especially after years of being convinced that she had to conform to the rules of people both human and hype.

ā€œUhm,ā€ she began softly, tears spilling out and down her cheeks. ā€œThanks, Harps.ā€

ā€œThat means a lot.ā€

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them filled with unsaid understanding and mutual support. Finally, Harper pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Havenā€™s eyes. Eyes, she realized, that were much like her own, down to the colour.

ā€œYouā€™re welcome, Haven,ā€ she replied, rubbing the remnants of tears from her face. The traces of her earlier emotions lingered, but there was a newfound clarity in her eyes now. ā€œIs that all you wanted to do?ā€

Haven sniffed, her tears beginning to fall less and less from her eyes. She hesitated a moment, a small feeling of yearning passing through her before she decided not to pursue it. Sheā€™d thought about searching for her mother, too. She just wanted a glimpse of her face. Yet she wasnā€™t sure how much more heartache she could take in one day.

ā€œYeah, Iā€¦ Iā€™m good. Thank you. For everything.ā€ She smiled, a small but grateful gesture. ā€œIā€™ll check it from the school computers to see if she replies, and Iā€™ll let you know if she does.ā€

Harper nodded, her own emotions still raw but tempered by the connection they had just shared. ā€œTake your time,ā€ she said encouragingly. ā€œAnd remember, Iā€™m here for you, no matter how this turns out.ā€






A

A leaned forward, her breath quickening as she strained to catch every word her cellmate uttered. His voice trembled, each sentence a struggle against the fear that gripped him. The dim light cast shadows across his face, highlighting the beads of sweat that trickled down his temples.

As he spoke, Aā€™s mind raced, piecing together the disjointed fragments of his story. The facility, with its cold, sterile corridors and the ever-present hum of machinery, was more than just a prison. It was a place of experimentation, where the boundaries of human endurance were pushed to their limits. The thought of what awaited them if they didnā€™t find a way out sent a shiver down her spine.

She exchanged another worried glance with Pia, their eyes reflecting the same fear. "We're grateful for your help," A said gently nonetheless, removing her hand from his shoulder. "You've given us a chance to fight back against these people. We won't forget that."
Interactions: Sunni-@The Savant

Elara stood there, her breath catching in her throat as Sunniā€™s rambling confession poured out in a chaotic stream. Each word seemed to tumble over the next, more unexpected than the last. She watched as the colour rose in his cheeks, his hand gripping his necklace so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The sight of his nervousness was almost palpable, and she felt a strange mix of emotions swirling within her.

The first? Confusion. Elaraā€™s mind whirled, struggling to process Sunniā€™s initial words. Rocks? Was he seriously asking her if she likedā€¦rocks? Her eyebrows knitted together, and she tilted her head slightly, trying to make sense of his question. Before she could fully grasp the oddity of it, Sunniā€™s words tumbled out again, this time something about her beingā€¦pretty. As a rock. The moon, specifically.

Her eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly, attempting to keep up with the bizarre comparison. She could feel a slight furrow forming on her forehead as she tried to decipher his meaning. Sunniā€™s voice, all the while, continued, his words coming out in a rush as if he feared losing his courage if he paused. Elaraā€™s lips parted, but no words came out. She could see Sunniā€™s face flushing deeper, his eyes darting away from hers. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and yet, there was a sincerity in his tone that made her heart beatā€¦ a little faster. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers fidgeting with a strand of her hair as she tried to find the right response.

At least until he brought up dead people.

This particular comment brought about the second emotion. Astonishment. Elaraā€™s eyes widened even further, her breath catching at the sheer absurdity of the comparison being made. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged, leaving her momentarily speechless. She blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to process the bizarre analogy. It was almost too much to believe.

And yetā€¦ the earnestness in Sunniā€™s voice was undeniable. He really thought her to be like the living dead! Elaraā€™s heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel a slight tremor in her hands as she clasped them together, her fingers interlocking tightly.

Sunniā€™s eyes seemed to dart nervously, his face flushed with a deep crimson hue. His words, though strange, were laced with a sincerity that tugged at something deep within her. Elaraā€™s breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as she tried to reconcile the absurdity of his comparison with the genuine emotion behind it.

She took a small step back, her gaze never leaving his face. Her mind raced, searching for the right response. What was she supposed to say here? A thank you?

Elara cleared her throat, the sound breaking the tense silence and signaling that it was her turn to speak now. She could feel the weight of Sunniā€™s expectant eyes on her, his nervous energy palpable.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again, her lips forming silent words as she struggled to find her voice. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears.

ā€œIā€™ll goā€¦get you some blankets for the couch. It can get quiteā€¦cold out here.ā€ Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she turned in the opposite direction from where sheā€™d faced. She took a few steps, the distance between them growing, but not before pausing and glancing back over her shoulder.

ā€œI donā€™t care much for rocksā€¦or dead people. Butā€¦thank you. For your strange but well-meant words.ā€ Her tone was gentle, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she walked away.


Interactions: Octavia,Sunni-@The Savant

Elaraā€™s heart clenched as Octaviaā€™s voice trembled with her fears and doubts. She watched the princessā€™s eyes stare into space as if waiting to be swallowed whole. But by what the handmaiden couldnā€™t say.

Was it guilt?

ā€œThe courts are not here, Elara,ā€ Octavia said quickly, almost defensively, her voice a fragile shield against her own insecurities.

Elara nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of understanding she felt for Octaviaā€™s unspoken fears. ā€œI know,ā€ she replied softly. ā€œBut even here, in Dawnhaven, appearances matter. The prince may not be the court, but he is still your husband, and his opinion of you is important.ā€

She paused, her mind carefully selecting the right words. ā€œI understand your fear, truly I do. But hiding this from him might only make things worse. Secrets have a way of coming to light, often at the worst possible times.ā€

Elara reached out and squeezed Octaviaā€™s hand gently, feeling the coolness of her skin and the slight tremor in her hands. ā€œI wonā€™t tell him, Octavia. I think he needs to hear the truth from you, not from anyone else.ā€ Especially not from anyone else. And sooner rather than later.

ā€œFlynn! Octavia! I donā€™t know if any of you are home but I am going to sleep on the couch or something! I donā€™t want to be in the inn tonight.ā€

Elaraā€™s eyes widened in surprise, her grip on Octaviaā€™s hand tightening momentarily. The sudden tension in her muscles mirrored the unexpected turn in their conversation. She could hear Sunni moving through the house, the clinking of dishes being picked up and put away reaching her ears. Somehow, despite the mundane sound, the air felt thicker with each clink that reached her ears.

Why was he here? Right now?

ā€œFlynn!? Octavia!?ā€

Elaraā€™s mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The mere idea of facing the man now felt overwhelming, almost unbearable. She took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs with a calming resolve, and stood up, her heart pounding.

She could not let this, whatever it was, interfere with her duty to Octavia.

ā€œI think I should take my leave now, Your Highness,ā€ Elara finally said, bowing deeply. ā€œThereā€™s something I meant to speak to Su- Mr.Emberani regarding the task you gave to me.ā€ Her voice wavered slightly, but she steadied herself, determined to maintain her composure.

With that, she quickly exited the room, her back pressing against the closed door for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. The cool wood against her skin was a brief comfort before she pushed off and began to move, her feet carrying her toward the inevitable confrontation.

As Elara walked, her mind continued to churn with agitated thoughts, each one more frantic than the last. She rehearsed what she would say, how she would address the task and the tension that lay between her and Sunni. Turning a corner, all these thoughts vanished in an instant as she collided with something solid.

She stumbled back, her heart leaping into her throat. Looking up, she found herself face-to-face with the very man sheā€™d been preparing herself to speak to.

ā€œMr. Emberaniā€¦ā€ Elara stammered, her cheeks flushing with a sudden rush of embarrassment. The surprise of the encounter left her momentarily speechless, her mind scrambling to regain its footing. She couldnā€™t quite process his reaction before her mouth blurted out, ā€œYou can knit, canā€™t you?ā€

She was positively mortified. Butā€¦at least sheā€™d gotten it out.

ā€œThe princess requires yourā€¦services. People like youā€¦who can knit. For the winter preparations.ā€


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