FullSizeRender (12)Happy Sunday everyone! We finally have good wifi over here in the middle of nowhere, so now I can listen to my Spotify again! If only I could find the single pair of earbuds that work with my phone. Stupid Iphone 7+. Takes damn good pictures though, so I suppose I can’t complain.

Find today’s update under the cut! I wrote this one in December and I have fond memories of sitting in my local coffee shop slurping down a Nutella mocha as I typed. It came easily, especially from Valkyrie’s side. One of those emotional sections that was just waiting to be written y’know?

Enjoy! This one should get you pumped for Wys’s update on Thursday; things start picking up!

With Love, Oxer

-/Seymour/-

I never knew her.

Or maybe I did. I can’t say. I just know that the weird curly haired girl that shows up when I hallucinate is something that my therapists and I talk about a lot. They think she means something, maybe she can unlock all those memories I’ve probably repressed before coming into foster care. They think something bad happened and that’s why I sit around gaming all day. “Something’s wrong with Seymour,” they all say. “He’s troubled.”

To be honest, I think the reason why I game (aside from wanting to go pro) is because foster care sucks more than you can imagine. And I can say that because I’ve been here for seven years or so.

 

{Valkyrie}

You’re not annoying.”

“I’m n-not annoying?”

Those three words shock me into coming out of hiding, and I actually stare at Hana, which I know is bad and scary but…

Impossible. Sacrilegious. I am the most annoyingly dangerous creature ever to spawn on planet Earth. Who else has meltdowns because of nightmares and disrupts everyone else’s ability to rest? Who else can’t somebody raise their voice around, even to cheer, because she’ll freak? Who else can’t even talk straight?

Hana has curled into herself like a Venus fly trap once it has caught a bug but she’s suddenly looking a whole lot less threatening than that. I inch closer until I’m sitting on my knees a foot or so away.

I think it’s the closest I’ve ever been to her of my own free will.

“I’m not annoying,” I say under my breath, like I’m trying the words, the theory, out. I turn to Hana in full, then, blinking and trying to look my best like an emotionally open person. And I’m searching for eye contact. What the hell is this?

Then Hana keeps talking and she surprises me. “I know I told you this before, but you… you don’t have to be afraid of me. I know I kinda… fucked things up for us, but still.”

Y-you fucked things up?” My jaw goes slack in some really weird expression like that of a gaping fish. “Y-you just t-tried to… help. I fucked things u-up. I’m a… f-freak. I’m afraid of everything. Y-you’re just a normal p-person.”

Talking is weird. Inside in my stomach it feels like I’ve just jumped off a cliff, hurtling through the unknown and just waiting to hit the bottom, waiting for this conversation to go up in flames. My head is fuzzy, nothing seems real, and I still kind of want to hurl. Never mind, I really want to hurl.

Yet there’s another part of me anchored to something, like I’m not just throwing myself off of that cliff but instead I’m just bungee jumping. Like I’m holding onto something and I’ll come back to safety eventually, I just have to ride this scariness out.

Does that make sense? I don’t know.

But I do know this girl, Hana, can’t hurt me like this. She has no capability to do so. I know guilt, I know a soul held out to me when I see it, I know honesty. I know when somebody is broken down to their essence and can only show the true parts of who they are. I’ve got aura powers– it kinda comes with the territory.

Hana speaks again. She keeps surprising me.

“I’m sorry. Alright? I’m not gonna hurt you or anything. Even if I am kickass.”

And I surprise myself. I laugh.

It’s the first time I’ve laughed in this entire hellscape of a trip and it feels so weird, so just surreal to be there giggling like an idiot in a broken elevator when a second ago I was going to puke. I can’t wipe the smile from my face even though half, no, all of me wants to, so I just put a hand to my forehead and keep doing the strange giggle-snort thing because I laugh weird, just like I talk.

“Anyways. Sorry.” Hana says above it all, very serious-like, but I just can’t stop giggling.

“Y-you’re funny,” I get out, wiping at my eye. “B-but… It’s OK. I-I don’t t-talk well a-about what bothers me. I’m s-sorry too.”

The air suddenly lifts.

That’s the only way I can describe it. A lift. Like the oppressive heat decided that it had somewhere better to be, like the building had just let out a sigh. That grey presence nagging at the back of my mind pulls away ever so slightly.

Sloth. It is weakening.

“Did you feel that?”  Hana is aghast and I even more so, scrambling to my feet and holding onto the guardrail thing so as to keep weight off of my bum ankle.

“Y-yeah!” And now that stupid smile is coming back and I’m bouncing up and down on my good leg because are we exorcising a sin or something? Getting these runes off of me? Then I turn back to Hana and plop down a foot or so away with my hands folded in my lap. For a second I forget that we’re stuck in a broken elevator and could die if it snapped and that Hana was just freaking out.

Now I know what to do and this is so cool and I’m actually helping my team for once.

“O-okay,” I’m chattering on like my brain isn’t connected to my mouth. “S-so we gotta talk. Y-you’ll stay calm that way if you focus on me and Sloth like I think action d-doesn’t–” I stop, cringe, take a deep breath (when I get excited I tend to mix words up), and then keep going. “I think S-Sloth doesn’t like action. E-Elias… he made Pride go a-away by being generous. W-we have to t-talk. S-so I’ll go first. Is that O-Ok?”

Shit, what do I say? I’ve never really introduced myself to somebody before. Really talked about what I like to do or anything like that. I gnaw at my fingernail for a moment, pensive.

And then I start rambling.

“O-Okay. Uh… E-Elias always calls me ‘Miss Amethyst’ but really m-my last name is F-Faucher. I d-don’t know why he does it. I-I really l-like cats and I’m the b-boss of a clan of strays b-back home and one of them I call F-Furbae and he’s m-my favorite. H-he’s orange. L-Like so orange it’s i-insane. I t-tell him he’s too orange all the time. I d-don’t even know what that fucking means, b-but I say it.”

The air keeps lifting, so I keep going, despite the stupid things that are falling out of my mouth. I’m blushing, my words running faster and faster and becoming one big mishmash.

“A-and I write poetry. A-all the time and that’s h-how I stop myself f-from freaking out in the c-car a-and thank you so much for l-letting me listen to music. I l-like classical too. Kinda. A-and I think I-I l-like hugs, m-maybe, I’m still f-figuring that part out. Phoenix g-gives good hugs. Um…”

My brain seems to short circuit then, like it wants to say more but somehow can’t, and my cheeks light on fire so I put my head in my hands and giggle a little. It’s watered down, not like the laughing I did before. I feel all staticy. “S-sorry. T-talking is… is hard.”

 

[Elias]

I do not think.

I would like to say that I did, because I like to consider myself a very logical being. But if I am telling the truth, the second I saw those elevator doors, remembered that Valkyrie was trapped in there with Izumi… I admit, I become anxious.

I will just say that I do not remember the heights factor.

“Do not fret,” I begin, noticing my companion fidgeting with his collar. Though, I shall admit, he is quite cute when he is nervous. “The doors will be a nonissue, my dear Phoenix Thourne.”

I return his smile, toss my hair, and then light my powers up on both of my arms. “As always, watch my back, and try not to stare.”

Because I very much so value my white blazer and do not fancy burning it, I shrug it off so that I am exposed in my blue undershirt. “Please be a gentleman and hold this, yes?” I ask Phoenix before holding out my blazer to him, careful to keep my powers in check so that neither of us is burned.

I do not even need to summon a meteorite for this; these clouds around my arms will melt anything they touch, and I suppose this apartment does not need any more roof damage before it falls down on top of us.

I turn back to the doors, crack my neck and knuckles for show, and then place a hand to the metal.

The response is immediate. There is a hiss and then the doors are melting around my fingers like candle wax, like the piano did on that fateful night that Kiera vanished. The stench of chemical and burning metal makes me gag but I grit my teeth and forge onward, conscious of every movement, every pull of my cotton undershirt against my shoulders. I cannot miss an opportunity to show off, now can I?

I make short work of everything. I only burn a hole right down the middle so as to minimize the amount of damage. Once I have finished, I will my powers away, throw a smile over my shoulders, and then I am shoving the doors aside–

Heights, my mind screams, but it is too late.

I barely even get a look at the elevator shaft– huge and gaping and plunging God knows how far towards the ground– before I am stumbling backwards and throwing my back up against the wall. I squish my eyes shut, clench my fingers, will the dizziness to stop swirling around my temples, will my lungs to stop rattling around in my chest, will my hands to stop shaking

Phoenix.

I wrench my eyes open and there he is, his image blurred through my vertigo, and something in my heart clenches. My stomach drops and I feel exposed, so exposed. Like my hair is down in front of him. Like I am wearing a short sleeved shirt and am showing the freckles on my arms I so loathe. Like I have just been turned inside out and instead of Elias Blackmore Phoenix is seeing… somebody else.

Somebody I do not like to bring to the surface.

“You cannot tell the others,” I rasp, putting a shaking hand to my forehead and closing my eyes. God, I am so embarrassed all of a sudden– my cheeks are ablaze and I feel small, so small, like an atom, and at this moment in time I want nothing more than to disappear.

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