Futuristic 𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚄𝙿𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙶 -- 𝙸𝙲

[nh1]

Bob Strassman

Mrs. Lyet's Class
​

When Clover asked him how he was doing, he sighed deeply, taking a deep breath.

"I hope so. Just reminded of my time in the mines, that's all. As long as you're doing ok and nobody's hurt. That's whats important. Safety first and all."

He glanced around. After a few moments, he had realized what had happened as he saw the ice glaze over Tiffany's mouth and was pretty shocked. He had seen people being hurt on the job. He had seen lots of people have lifelong injuries from their work. He could only cringe at the thought of the possibility of Tiffany getting permanently injured from ripping off the ice.

It definitely changed you, he thought. He knew he wasn't the most stable of individuals when it came to high powered conflict. But he liked to think, he cared about people staying safe and being protected. It definitely changed your view of the world seeing a person be healthy one day and face severe injury due to a simple mistake or from something that happened on the job sight. Before the mine got much safer, it was something he saw with more regularity than he would have liked.

He turned to glare at Del. You don't risk the lives of your coworkers. Ever. It was an ironclad rule. In dangerous situations, you need to develop trust. Because when your life or safety is on the line, you need to know that the person standing next to you cares just as much about you staying safe as themselves. To put others safety at risk was inexcusable. He had seen the effects on people when safety was handled like an afterthought.

He shook his head at he turned his eyes to glare down, taking deep breaths. How could this kid know about what it means to have a friend loose an arm. Or have another friend loose a leg. Knowing that all it took was one wrong push of a lever and the crane could come down the wrong way. That one guy a little to inebriated to work heavy machinery would cause harm to others.

And it wasn't just that. The guilt gnawed at you. He could still remember the look on some of the faces of those who were responsible. Sometimes, it inspired them to change their lives. Knowing they caused someone irreparable harm. Or they sank deeper into guilt. becoming morose or quitting work altogether. It was a dangerous road. As he shook his head, he could only hope the school trained its people better.

It was always a sign. When the employees of any operation were away from the bosses. How did they act? What did they do when the choice was between safety measures that were uncomfortable but necessary, or just winging it. After seeing a few different crews, he had seen both.

He could only conclude one thing. This place wasn't as great as they said. In his short time, everything had been the picture of professionalism and goodness. However, if teachers were falling asleep while students could be handicapped for life? This was beyond reckless. And for the perpetrator to be a teachers aid? Someone who had demonstrated to the staff that they were a safe and responsible student to carry out their guidelines? Or were the guidelines so lax that such a thing was accepted? When you smell smoke you better believe that theirs a fire.

And in all honesty, the smoke was thick. He had seen more trash talking and arguing from some miners. If just a little instigating and pushing of buttons led to this? It would be just insane on a job site. He could only imagine the tongue thrashing some of his coworkers brought out on a daily basis. If he had then decided to pick up a sledgehammer and start swinging it around? Maybe smashing someones face in? He would be fired. Done. Gone. What the heck were they teaching these guys?

He sighed before turning to clover, to whisper. "I know I'm not the smartest about these sorts of things. But that can't be right. To possibly injure someone forever over a stupid classroom argument? Aren't they supposed to be training heroes? Half of the job is dealing with trashtalkers and irreverent people. And to bust out a move like this over something like letters? I get people's mail is important but this is crazy....I don't know about you clover but I'm telling you right now. I don't care what they tell you, safety is number one. You see something going down you get out of there ok? You keep you head down. In my old job, you don't even step into a forklift without safety precautions and we're out here playing with fire, or ice, as the supervisors asleep at the job. You keep your head down. Ok? I don't want to have to wait in the hospital for you while they stitch you up. Whatever happens I got your back. You know that? Anybody makes you feel unsafe or starts firing stuff off willy nilly, you can tell me ok? I've got your back whatever happens. Obviously, the teacher's aid isn't going to help."

He sighed as he finished his whisper rant as he rubbed his eyes. Obviously, his feelings of being trapped hadn't helped his mood, but this was serious. Safety! People could die or something out here. He rubbed his eyes again as he tried to collect himself. Hopefully someone could rescue this clown show before somebody got hurt....

 

[Flutz]

Each word Mr. Jefferson spoke brought confusion with it. The tolerance with which he spoke made Alex wonder if the teacher had finally lost a screw from his carefully curated collection. With the teacher's back to him, Alex could only rely on tone. Had the rules of the school suddenly changed enough so that defying teachers now brought praise instead of condemnation? Except then Alex heard the ear-piercing screech of a desk across the floor, and the scene made sense to Alex once again. It was the calm before a storm, and storm it did.

Mr. Jefferson started with Wesley, the apparent cause of the temporary blackout. The power discipline teacher moved Wesley's desk with the same ease Alex used to manipulate his pencil. With barely a flick of his hand, a tidal wave of power enveloped Wesley's desk and chair, catapulting them--and their occupant--to the back of the room. Then storm calmed, just a moment--perhaps it was the eye passing over Mr. Jefferson's mental state--before Louis' turn came once again.

The flaming glow of Mr. Jefferson's eyes returned. The color had always reminded Alex of a bonfire. Flames were intentionally fanned until they reached absurd heights, beautiful and warmth-providing, but dangerous. A stray wind or a careless spectator could mean destruction. That description fit Mr. Jefferson well, except his flames were left to run rampant too often. Each move the teacher made provided further evidence.

Louis' attempt to stand was like the wind, not the onlooker, because Alex wasn't sure if the boy was in control of his movements anymore. The darkness of his hands had continued to spread and now, if Alex squinted, he could see black veins peeking out from Louis' collar. At that moment, Alex was almost glad Mr. Jefferson was in the room--though not that the man had brought on Louis' change in the first place--because Louis looked absolutely savage. His normally sickly nature brought with it the idea that whatever was inside Louis, whatever his power really was, it didn't care for the safety of even its host, let alone anyone caught in the crossfire. But Mr. Jefferson could, if not control it, could suppress it. And the teacher did so through unadulterated power, raising the enshadowed boy with an invisible hand at his throat.

It was at moments like these, where Mr. Jefferson truly lashed out, that Alex was reminded of how easily the man could kill any of them if he truly desired. He didn't. His years of employment guaranteed that, but not for the first time, Alex wondered what Mr. Jefferson would be doing if he wasn't employed at Vochertepp--and what he had done before his employment. Maybe Vochertepp had just as tight a grip on its faculty as it did its students. As the intercom sounded, Alex watched the glow disappear from Mr. Jefferson's eyes and the color drop from his face. Why was the man so scared?

Mr. Jefferson left the room quickly, barely taking the time to fill out detention slips for Wesley, Anastasia, and Louis. The room sat in silence for moments before Wesley cleared his throat and stood.

Wesley's resilience was praiseworthy, and Alex may have told him so if their relationship allowed it. As it was, Alex never knew how to act around the electricity manipulator. When the boy's hand landed on his desk, Alex glared at it, pointedly ignoring the other boy's face. He hadn't ever done anything to the older boy, but Wesley's reactions to Alex had been nothing but cold for most of his time at Vochertepp. On some level, he could understand, but Wesley was so nice to everyone else that the juxtaposition hurt.

As Wes continued his appraisal of the other students in the room, all overwhelmingly positive, Alex didn't fail to recognize his own pointed absence in the speech. Even Gian, who hadn't moved from her desk, had received praise, but apparently, Alex had failed. Well, whatever it was that Wesley wanted from him, it was clear he didn't want Alex in the room, and Alex wasn't one to argue.

Edith ended up offering the solution Alex was looking for. A barricade wouldn't work. Alex was confident that, even without sight, Mr. Jefferson would have no problem using his powers to remove the block, and Anastasia echoed those thoughts. Leaving, though, might actually work. It wasn't like Alex was trying to run from Mr. Jefferson, he just wanted to leave the current atmosphere. Besides, Mr. Jefferson hadn't actually forbidden them from leaving. He would just go sit in the hall until Mr. Jefferson returned.

Now, the problem was getting across the room. Alex typically tried not to draw attention to himself, but with Mr. Jefferson gone, there was no overwhelming presence to draw attention while Alex acted. Well, apologies seemed to be the thing of the hour, with Stas adding another apology to the pile. Maybe it was time Alex offered one of his own, but what would he even be apologizing for? His own weakness? It was clear no one in the room had expected him to help, so it wasn't like they had anything to hold against him at that moment.

Still, Alex pushed back his chair and stood. "I-- sorry," he said, though his tone was slightly clipped. He still couldn't decide if Wes wanted him to act angry, apologetic, or something else.

Either way, Alex gathered his notebook and pencil and made his way to the classroom door in silence, leaving the rest of his stuff behind as an indicator that he wasn't taking off. It didn't feel quite as awkward as he'd imagined it to be. Maybe he was getting better at tuning people out. Unfortunately, the comfort disappeared when his hand landed on the handle and was prevented from pushing the door open. He frowned. He pushed the door again and the door barely jerked in its place, steadfast. Well, isn't that just great. Mr. Jefferson had locked them in. Alex internally cursed as he felt insecurity flood into his mind.

He let his head fall just slightly as he contemplated his next move, but there was really only one thing to do: return to his desk. Maybe people would ignore his earlier words with this new info. "So... guess the barricade and leaving are both off the list of options now," he said, striding back to his desk while hoping no one noticed the anxiety in his eyes. At least his tone was steady, if perhaps a bit aloof. "Any other fun ideas?"

 

[cablebelly]

✃​

VIOLENT UPBRINGING​

October 24th, 2079

It was a sad thing, to watch a classroom bloom in the absence of a teacher. For all intents and purposes, a school was supposed to nurture growth. The image of such an institution had long been desecrated, and to many Vochertepp was no exception. To those who turned a blind eye to its misgivings, they often found they got what they wanted. In a place where powers could be used freely, students learned. Even if there was someone who only did the bare minimum of their coursework, even they could not shy away from growth, because just to be in a world where powers blossomed all around was enough to improve. And even if you were dead set on ignoring your powers, at least the student body was a sea of people primed to understand your plight.

Louis felt strangely out of body, watching the scene before him. The way all his classmates suddenly came to view in front of him, clear and bright, rather than the dazed mess he saw the world through lately, was a suddenly comforting image, even if he felt rather violated by the teacher that had stormed out of the room. The hand that was busy dragging through his hair now came down to his neck, as if the way his windpipes were crushed would have some tangible feeling along his skin. Bruises on Louis didn’t keep red long, if at all. Instead, they turned a strange shade of black laced with green and yellow within minutes, more corpse-like than a wounded body.

As such, there was a certain way that Louis blushed, which occurred very quickly after Wesley stood to attention. Louis had always been in awe of the boy, and today was no exception. He rose to his feet quickly and confidently, taking command of the classroom in a way that was warm and inviting. They’d been friends a decent amount of time, before Louis became a little less accustomed to reality, and it had taken some time before he’d realized that Wesley was no stranger to his demons. Only a little better at turning off the lights.

So, Louis did his strange green-yellow-black blush as Wesley passed out his grade, reaching up to reciprocate the fist bump although it met his shoulder too quickly. He’d missed the electokinetic’s presence, and wasn’t sure how to make up for lost time when it would surely be lost again soon. Instead, he watched with eyes full of awe as he addressed the rest of the classroom, marveling at the way Wesley combatted any unease, but still feeling sick to his stomach for reasons much other than what Jefferson had done.

“S’okay, guys. Really.” Louis insisted, even though his voice hung on only barely to stability. It was no small feat to shake off a choke hold from a teacher, and while there was an ever present hollowness in Louis’ gaze, it was steadily being pushed away by the buzz of life around him, and he seemed more lucid than normal. It had been quite some time since Louis had met the gaze of his fellow classmates with light in his eyes, but as he looked to Edith and Stas in an attempt to reassure them, a glimpse of an older Louis was there.

“You did more than enough.” He said to Stas with a small nod and a flickering smile. “That was kinda badass… on all our parts.” For a moment, Louis remembered the way Jefferson had sneered in his face, begging for a fight. Typical, he’d huffed. What was typical? His brows furrowed for a moment as the image of Jefferson’s eyes boring into his, unshielded by a glow, instead, a strange amount of sincerity staring him down. Louis swallowed past a lump in his throat, and decided to push the thought away. A maniac like Jefferson didn’t deserve any of his brain space, especially when it was so hard to come by these days.

Instead, Louis took the opportunity of the change in classroom leadership to finally feel some sort of dominance over the man who had tortured him at every opportunity. He stood, and for just a split second, he wobbled, but quickly regained his footing. With Wesley in charge, Louis felt a little more freedom, and while his friend had taken a seat on the edge, Louis, feeling a small surge of adrenaline, plopped down in the professor’s chair.

He leaned back, and tugged at his tie, which was now entirely too tight for comfort around his throbbing neck. It was easy to see how a man like Jefferson could feed his ego from this vantage point, as there came a certain power in having the entirety of the class small and separate, putty at his fingertips. Louis wondered, when Vochertepp hired, did they have checkboxes for all the undesirable traits that Jefferson exhibited?

To be someone like Louis, to be someone who had attempted the impossible and still lived to tell the tale even though they stole it from him piece by piece every day, there had to be some sort of confidence in his bones. Yet when any of the students looked at Louis, he often cowered. His posture was hunched, head hanging low. Perhaps the thing that turned his hands black had been the one to orchestrate the attempt, but in this chair, trying to understand the ego that ruled this room, Louis, for a moment, looked strangely well placed.

“Nice to be able to breathe easy here for once.” Louis announced aloud, getting rather comfortable in the seat. His gaze fell to the set of drawers on the left hand side, built smooth oak wood and exhibiting excellent craftsmanship. Jefferson’s desk was a designer piece, while the rest of the desks in the classroom were shitty things. The drawers, however, had piqued his curiosity. How often did he get the chance to pry into the belongings of one of the most volatile teachers at the school? A pit of dread formed in his stomach, trying to warn him of the way something like this had gone last time. The last time he’d ventured into uncharted territory. Then again, he’d just said fuck you to a teacher, who had also darted off with more fear in his eyes that Louis had ever seen.

He felt like there was time before the teacher came back, and an amused grin spread on his face as Alex tried and failed to escape the room. How kind it would have been of Jefferson to leave the door unlocked. No such luck, even for a boy who did all that he was asked. Louis didn’t have much patience for the students who did what they were told, and it was clear as his gaze lingered on the back of Alex’s neck, that he was staring daggers.

“Yeah, I’ve got a fun idea.” He said with a smile in Alex’s direction, while the boy was still shuffling embarrassedly back to his desk, and then lowered his voice. “Hey Wes,” Louis murmured. There were prying eyes in here, namely Alex and the quiet Gian. He spared a glance at them briefly, but Louis already had a pink slip of paper with his name on it. Teachers' pets be damned. Louis’ eyes glimmered with a hint of mischievousness unseen in many months. “Ever wonder what Jefferson keeps in his drawers? Maybe some real medeival torture devices?”

Flutz Maverick. ravensunset stellamaris idiot

✃​

It was no easy task to be a teacher’s pet in Vochertepp. People who knelt so quickly to the whims of authority had usually been brought up to bend, and children born to powerful people felt little under their thumbs. It was no easy task, to live up to a parent who could bend the elements at their whim, and held monikers of beloved fame. Perhaps to some, it was easy to treat the faculty at Vochertepp the same way they treated their unattainable parents. Like beings of great power and justice, who could do no wrong and sought to be fair and strong to all. Rules, after all, were there to protect the weak and foolish. But what did that say about someone so desperate to please the rulemakers?

Tiffany had no sympathy for the lot. Whether or not she knew what made a kid tick like that, the only clock that concerned her was her own. Nevermind the opportunity to peer into a teacher’s mail, she just wanted to be able to live her own life without some spoiled brat thinking the school gave them the authority to pry into whatever part of her they liked. She didn’t know what made a kid grow up to crave attention from their oppressors, but whatever childhood they’d had, she’d had the opposite. To say Tiffany had a sense of justice would be a little misconstrued, but she did hold her personal beliefs rather highly, and among them was an important principle: no touching. Powers were not exempt.

She had gotten as far as to rip open the letter and pull it halfway out of its envelope before Del’s icy assault stopped her in her tracks. There was a wild look in Tiffany’s eye as ice crept across her cheeks and plastered her mouth shut. Up until this point, she had handled the altercation with a cool amount of swagger. No matter how angry or riled she seemed, it was often under the blanket of a calmer, careless demeanor. As if every fight were beneath her, and every swing was not truly worth her time.

Oh, but this one would be.

Until this point, it could be said that Tiffany hadn’t harshly broken power usage rules, at least, not compared to the cold muzzle Del had employed. But Vochertepp wasn’t very equitable in their rulings, and when a model student like Del put a brute like Tiffany in her place, the scales were already tipped. If he saddled up to the jury and described the way she’d incited violence, belittled a TA, and scattered school property, she’d be dead in the water. Tiffany had already gotten comfortable being shark bait.

There were a few players in this game, though most struck her more as measly fish than sharks. Tiffany cared very little for names. Heart-eyes girl, who looked rich even in her standard uniform with those ugly glasses of hers. Mirabelle didn’t need to turn around to feel Tiffany staring her down with a vengeance. There was the other pink-headed girl (Tiffany was surprised there was more than one) who had a little bit more confidence than most in the room, which she could respect. If Tiffany ever counted on allies, maybe she’d be a good fit.

Then, there was the truly pathetic TA. Tiffany didn’t know what was the criteria for a student to find themselves with some baseless title that put them above the rest, but whatever it was, she had no clue why Matt would be deserving of it. He was so… shriveled. Didn’t Vochertepp want to employ people who could at least look a threat in the eye? Someone like boy scout Del, who was just inches shy of a heroism award if they could hand those out. If they didn’t, they’d probably invent one just for him.
There was a gnawing thought in the back of her mind, that maybe she was just feeding his ego. Doing exactly what he wanted, acting like a savage beast. Tiffany’s hand only briefly came up to the ice on her maw, just to feel how glued to her skin it was. There were a few more rational voices in her head, usually taking the familiar tone of the ever worried Jonny. Are you really willing to lose your mouth for this?

Yes, yes she was. She always was.

With a flare of her nostrils, Tiffany reared backwards like a bull breaking out of its pen, and smashed her head against the desk with a frightening amount of force. Shards of ice and blood erupted as she broke the muzzle without a second thought, and there was barely a flinch in her gaze as it crackled away with bits of her skin. It was quite a gruesome sight, and only made that much more so when she looked back up at Del and smiled. The temporary power outage only served to illuminate her dripping maw like a flashlight illuminating one telling a horror story, and just as the lights flickered back on, her eyes had come alight as well.

Now, her putrid neon green glow burst to life as she kicked her seat away from her and stood, staring at the rest of the class wildly, and shouted out loud to address everyone.

“Do you guys fucking see this?” Tiffany snarled, dragging the crook of her elbow across the lower half of her jaw and sparing a glance at the blood that caked her uniform, brow quirked momentarily. Damn, what a number done to her pretty smolder. Only temporary. She turned her attention back to the masses. “How this asshat thinks he runs the school? Runs you? You’re all so fuckin’ blind you don’t even realize how crazy a place we’re in! They open our mail, for fuck’s sake! Breathe down our throats! And you let them!”

With a growl, she slammed a hand into her desk, her and Del’s desk, and it jumped with the force of it. Her shaggy blonde hair had begun to frizz with a familiar red-green static, and after slamming the desk, a ball of green energy began to crackle in her palms as she gripped the edge, burning into the wood. "Why don't you shut up, bubblegum. Bitches like him don't respond to threats." Tiffany hissed, staring at Mirabelle, before a flicker of an idea crossed her visage. “You know what? Open that envelope, cotton candy.” It would seem she was addressing Lyric. “Read it out loud. Let’s see what this boy scout over here wants so badly to protect for his masters.” She grinned at Del, raising her hands as they bloomed with energy, the threat almost palpable. “Go on, pretty boy. Try and stop her.”

Mrs. Lyet snored.


nh1 calypso blue-jay listener fin boo. erzulie mikaluvkitties

∴​

 

[erzulie]

mood

confused

location

mrs.lyet’s class

outfit

vochertepp uniform

tags

interactions: the whole class

lyric

”silence speaks and truth shrieks.”

There was no mistaking the sound of ice shattering. Her gaze, that had been laser like as she eyed Del, snapped to Tiffany. They lowered to look at her lips, if you could still call them that. The smell of blood was beginning to make its way to her nose. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, Lyric had no doubt that she was in pain but that didn’t stop her from giving Delano a tongue lashing. Lyric couldn’t agree with her more and her grip tightened on the letter, they’d have to pry it from her hands.

She met Tiffany’s eyes, not flinching as she gazed at the flames within. Instead she nodded, her own eyes alight with determination. It was nice knowing that not everyone was fooled by this place. That there were people who realized that something wasn’t right.

Lyric ripped the letter open, gazing at the contents. For a moment she looked confused but then she spoke. Her words were a mix of letters and numbers. There were names that she recognized, along with dates. Her voice was loud, clear enough so that everyone could hear her. After she finished she gazed silently at the paper. “What in the fuck…” she looked around, welcoming others to come and take a look, wanting to see if they had any luck of figuring out what it meant.

The Letter
​

​

​

​

nine lives

 

[listener]

clover leah | mrs. lyet's 2nd period class

"I've got your back whatever happens."

Clover smiled thankfully, the nerves in her belly momentarily lost at Bob's genuine comment. It was nice to know there were people here at Vochertepp who lived by their own moral creed. But her smile fell as she glanced around the room, realizing that at some point, perhaps all of them were like Bob; perhaps not as nice or genuine or as knowledgeable in mining, but perhaps their time at Vochertepp is what caused... well... whatever was happening.

And as if that internal dialogue was some cue, Clover watched in slow motion and muted horror as Tiffany Markham reared back and smashed her frosty muzzle upon the desk in front of her.

For some reason, all she could think about was Bob's previous comments.

Safety first and all.

Safety is number one.

You see something going down you get out of there ok? You keep your head down...

and you get out of there ok?

But Clover, not really thinking clearly, did the exact opposite.

She saw blood and acted on instinct.

Clover stood so quickly her chair went flying back and her eyes suddenly glowed brilliantly, sage green aflame as paper from her notebook sheared itself from its metal ring encasement and joined together, languidly floating in mid air as it folded and formed itself into a paper dragon. It hung there for a moment, as if frozen and suspended in time, and then unfurled its wings and flew across the room, past Lyric and Mirabelle and the rest to perch precariously atop the first aid kit attached to the far wall.

She beckoned it back as she turned on her heel and made her way to the back of the room.

It was only when she was face to face with Tiffany Markham, paper dragon having delivered its hoard in her hands, and now perched on her shoulder, did she realize.

Tiffany wasn't exactly a receptive person and if she was willing to brutalize her face to make a point, as well deserved as it was, she probably didn't care about the pain or potential infection. But Clover stood her ground regardless of fear, and didn't hear Lyric's curse over her heart pounding between her ears.

"Erm," Clover said softly, "I think you, um. Can I, erm, help?"

nh1 cablebelly

 

[idiot]

gian su-yun.

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A smile formed on her pale face, yet never reached her dead eyes. A-plus, huh. Gian appreciated the gesture and couldn't ignore the warmth in her cheeks but it was a back handed compliment at most. She did nothing. Gian watched as Jefferson almost choked the life out of Louis. The others came to Louis' defence but it was pointless. Why bother fighting back? The world chewed them up and spat them out like gum once it lost its flavour. Gian's flavour dissipated when she was five.

​

The car rattled to a stop, a young Gian clutching a stuffed, well-loved bunny. Out the window was a myriad of green hues, hulking trees framing a small cabin. Her mother sat behind the steering wheel, her knuckles white against the leather ring. She knew her mother was sad, she could see it in her eyes.

"I wanna go home, mummy," Gian whined, her hands were bandaged and every time she had tried to undo them her mother would scold her. She picked at the white bunny's fur.

"This is our new home, honey," her mother forced a smile, wiping a tear from her bloodshot eyes that were accompanied by black rings.

"No!" Gian screamed back, unable to stop the tears forming in her own eyes, "This place is scary! I want to go home!" The waterworks began, spilling from her eyes and down her chubby face. Gian was insufferable, beginning to kick her pink sneakers against the seat. She screamed and screamed. Home was in Florida with her bedroom that boasts impressive views of the towering buildings and the sandy shores. She didn't understand why they had to move.

Her mother remained silent, allowing for Gian to continue her antics, her throat becoming sore.

Then her ever-patient mother finally snapped.

Spinning around to face her, she couldn't stop the words from flowing, "You think I want to be here, huh? You think I wanted to do this? We are here because of you!"

The two sat in silence after that, Gian's lip quivered, snot running down and mixing with her tears.

Her mother broke down, silently crying, "Oh god...I'm sorry. I-I, I'm so tired. I'm sorry, mummy is sorry."

​

The fly buzzed past her ear once more, shaking her from the painful memories. Thanks. Settling on her notebook, the fly's red-orbed eyes stared up at her. Did it understand her?

Edith began suggesting they barricaded the door but thankfully Anastasia said exactly what she was thinking. Jefferson's powers were stronger than all of them combined. Well, at least his control of them. He could blow away their pathetic barricades without lifting a finger. Anastasia began doting over Louis' injuries before a figure stood up suddenly.

Alex.

Gian had forgotten the quiet, dark-haired boy was even in the room. He wasn't too unlike her. He muttered an apology and made a start for the door which was unsurprisingly - locked.

"Any other fun ideas?" Alex asked the class and Louis answered by whispering to Wesley. Pink slip be damned, Gian thought. Whatever he was whispering it wasn't good for any of them. A glutton for punishment, Louis was.

Gian finally decided to speak.

"We could all jump out the window," the rotting teenager's voice was husky and low, yet crackled like a campfire from lack of use.

"Imagine the pile of paperwork Jefferson would have to do if students died under his watch," her usual morbid sense of humour on display, "the ultimate payback if you ask me."

Voice deadpan, making it unsure if she was being serious.

Before anyone could reply, Gian's leather-bound hands slid the pink headphones from her neck and placed them over her ears. Placing the music player that was connected to them on the desk, she pressed play. Loud punk-rock music blasted into her ears, deafening the room around her. Better yet, deafening her thoughts.

Leaning back in her chair, Gian didn't take notice of the fly climbing up her arm as though unbothered by her presence.

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ravensunset]

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  relaxed.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  the school uniform, just like everyone.

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  Mr. Jefferson's classroom.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  cablebelly @subtle thrill Flutz Maverick. stellamaris idiot
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

edith.

Louis was right. It was nice to be able to breathe easily in the room. The conversation bounced from student to student, no more resistance in the air now that Mr. Jefferson was gone. No. Now that Wesley had stood up in front of the class and showed it was safe. Stas had spoken, apologized as Edith had, and maybe Edith hadn’t gotten across well enough that she was joking in both her suggestions, but it didn’t seem to matter, as Alex had spoken up next, then Louis.

The students were suddenly free to speak, free to move, Alex getting up to pull on the door, even though it hadn’t worked, and Louis to sit in Mr. Jefferson’s chair and speak to Wes and. It was good, really good, to hear him speak, even if it wasn’t aimed at her. There was no mistaking that his voice still carried the all too recent choking he’d gotten, but despite that, it was more alive than she’d heard from him in-- no-- since it happened. He’d spoken and she’d met his eyes and they were alive and maybe the day would be worth it, even if he wasn’t addressing directly her.

Louis whispered something to Wes, and Edith wished she was just a little closer to be within earshot. The next voice to fill the air was Gian’s, and Edith glanced over in surprise. Gian wasn’t someone Edith knew well, though she’d always held curiosity towards her powers, but she knew the other girl wasn’t one to speak up often. Her voice had been completely still, leaving Edith to wonder whether it had been a serious suggestion. She paused for just a second to consider, before landing on the side of it having to have been a joke.

“Yeah, right, and maybe we push a chair out, too,”

Edith added on, keeping her tone light, as though hiding a laugh inside her words, in opposition to Gian’s deadpan manner,

“Make it look like Mr. Jefferson did it.”

When she glanced back over at Gian, though, it became clear her words fell on deafened ears, as Gian’s headphones were already on and no reaction spread across her face. Edith’s eyebrows furrowed together.

Why say something if you aren’t even going to listen to a reply?

She couldn’t force the other girl to hear her, of course, and Edith had to stop herself from asking the question aloud, knowing it would just go unheard and unanswered.

She looked over again at Wes at the front of the room, at Louis comfortably leaning back in the large chair, at Alex walking back to his seat and Gian listening to whatever was going on behind those headphones, at everyone in the classroom starting to take control of their spaces. If it wasn’t for the cold tone of the walls, the small desks spaced just a bit too far apart, it might’ve seemed a comfortable scene, just like normal highschoolers hanging out in a comfortable common area, relaxing. Edith stepped back, behind her chair, and pushed it in under the desk. She looked behind herself for just a moment, at the window, blinds drawn shut. So maybe there was something in here for her, too.

Edith propped herself up onto the windowsill, her small frame just allowing her to perch onto it, legs dangling down, and reached for the string that would pull open the blinds. With the lights on in the room, it didn’t add much, but Edith could feel the sun rays pushing through the glass and slightly brighter horizontal lines of light on the floor widening with the opening of the blinds.

Opening the windows alone, of course, wasn’t all Edith had come for. The sun’s rays passed through the glass, onto her skin, and into her. Edith’s fingers were itching, stretching, and her eyes glowed gold, letting the sun back out through them. The tiny succulent beside her on the windowsill that Mr. Jefferson must have forgotten to remove seemed to shudder at the sudden light. It reached for Edith’s fingers as she passed them over it, her hands hovering over the small plant to keep it immersed in her glow as her fingers moved, tracing the pattern of its leaves, speaking to it.

Hi there. You haven’t been watered in a couple months, have you? And the window’s usually closed, not allowing sun? Here, we can fix that.

Edith wasn’t quite talking, although her lips traced the shape of the word. It wasn’t quite talking, but she could understand it, and it her. Mr. Jefferson had spoken about control, but when Edith was using her powers, that wasn’t quite something she understood the meaning of. She wasn’t in control. She’d never asked a plant to do something that it wasn’t already okay with. She wasn’t in charge. They were helping each other.

You’re looking better. I’ll sneak you out of here if I can after class, but let’s have a bit of fun first. You’ve got plenty of room in that pot, want to grow a little bigger? You’ve got some catching up to do.

If there was one thing the plant speaker’s powers were any good for, it had always been making cold rooms feel like sunlight, like they could be home. For just a moment, the room was hers, as though Mr. Jefferson was forever gone from it.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Maverick.]

Wesley Campbell

curious — Mr. Jefferson's classroom — interactions: Louis/Stas

Wesley took his eyes off his shoes and turned his gaze to Edith when she spoke, but he let it drift back down just as quickly. He had an acute sense of humor, so he knew that his friend wasn’t being serious, but there were real questions behind her jest— ones that didn’t offer much hope for solutions. He shook his head a bit and shrugged, offering only a little rueful smile.

He knew that there wasn’t much that they could do other than wait for Mr. Jefferson to return. Anastasia echoed those thoughts, although her tone was far from joking. She said his name, and when he looked up, he saw that she was apologizing. He knit his eyebrows together, confused, and it took him a moment to realize what she had meant. Luckily, Louis had spoken up, and Wesley nodded along as the other student spoke.

“Badass,” he confirmed, repeating Louis’ words. “Actually, Stas, I should be thanking you, too. You were gonna take the fall for the… the light thing, which is insane. So thanks for that.”

His words trailed off a bit at the end, as though they were eager to jump off his tongue and disappear as quickly as possible. Blowing out the power hadn’t been his proudest moment, and not only had Anastasia seen it happen just like everybody else, but she had actually tried to clean it up for him. He raised a hand to his neck and let his fingers fumble with the chain of his necklace. He was an expert at laughing things off, but no one is immune to the mortification that comes with making a fool of yourself in front of your entire class. Despite his generally mellow demeanor, embarrassment came easily to him, and now was no exception.

“And, hey,” he continued abruptly, hoping that he could beat his blush if he changed the subject quick enough. He dropped his chain and put his hand out, palm facing upward as he shrugged his shoulder. He looked back at Stas, and despite the moment of awkwardness he was still struggling to step over, he was able to summon a well-worn smile back onto his face. “You don’t get a detention slip for not doing enough. You have to earn those. And it’ll be great. Louis and I will show you the ropes.”

Louis had reached Mr. Jefferson’s chair by now, and Wesley gave Stas a thumbs-up before finally letting his hand fall. His smile stayed in place as Louis took a seat. He wondered— not for the first time— about who Louis might be if Vochertepp didn’t exist. With Mr. Jefferson gone, it was as though the puppet strings tied around Louis’ neck had loosened, and he was able to sit down without the threat of being yanked back up again.

Wesley let out a content sigh, only to have it hitch when Alex stood. He watched as the other student went for the door, but the handle rattled as it refused to budge. Alex’s puppet strings must still be knotted tight, because he was pulled back to his desk just as quickly as he had tried to leave. Wesley was merely a student, but he knew that Vochertepp had a web of ties that held it together, and it seemed as though it’s grip on some students was tighter than others. Alex seemed to be particularly bound.

As soon as Alex sat back down, Wesley heard Louis whisper for his attention. Louis’ eyes were alight, and Wesley had to blink a couple of times to recognize him. Some sort of glow had flickered on behind his glassy irises, and Wesley found himself immediately dreading when they might turn off again. So when Louis proposed that they snoop around in Mr. Jefferson’s desk, Wesley smirked.

“Hm, medieval torture devices?” Wesley asked, and a mischievous edge was working its way into his voice. He hopped off the desk and rounded it until he met Louis on the other side. “Yeah, sure. I’m in the mood for more bad ideas.”

He faced the desk and crossed his arms, studying the drawers. There were three, with two thinner ones on the top and a larger one below them. His eyes darted upward for a moment as he glanced at the door, and before he could get too worried about it banging open with no warning, he went for the drawers.

“Let’s see,” he muttered as he tugged open the first one. His shoulders sagged a bit when he inspected the contents. He dug around for a moment, but the most interesting things he could find in there was a stapler and some homework papers. “Junk.”

He shut the top drawer and moved onto the middle one, feeling a little less hopeful this time. It slid open easily enough, and inside he found a stack of folders. He raised his eyebrows, and before he had enough time to stop himself, he pulled them out.

He began tossing them out onto the desk, where they plopped down next to each other in a row. There was a break in the stack halfway through, and he found that an empty picture frame had been sandwiched between the folders. He frowned as he lifted it to his face, turning it over as he inspected it.

“Okay, Mr. J,” he muttered as he placed the frame and the rest of the folders on the desk. “Guess assholes don’t have any pictures to put in their frames because no one loves them. So you hide it in a drawer to escape the truth. Makes sense… kind of. Not really.”

He stood back and looked at the folders where they were spread out over the desk. There were five: “School Schedules”, “Detentions”, “High Risk Students”, “Lesson Plans”, and “Student/Classroom Evals”.

Wesley went straight for the “High Risk Students” folder, and as soon as he flipped it open, he saw Louis’ name on the very first page. Wesley’s eyes tore over the page, and his face hardened into a cringe as he read about his friend. His gaze locked on a comment written in Mr. Jefferson’s handwriting:

“L. Bauver-Caldwell: Student’s lineage has created an incalculable powerset and a muddled hybrid status. Handle with caution. Attempts have shown weakening control between ability and host.
RISK RATING: HIGH”

“High for what?” Wesley murmured to himself, casting a quick glance over at Louis.

He continued thumbing through the papers, and just a few pages back after Louis’ name, Wesley found his own. His pulse quickened as he read over the page, and he saw that Mr. Jefferson had left a comment for him as well:

“W. Campbell: Traditional electrokinetic powers with little control. Could potentially interfere with [REDACTED]. Student shows disdain for authority and may eventually become volatile.
RISK RATING: MED”

“What the fuck is redacted?” he asked aloud, and this time a tremor was creeping into the edges of his voice. “What…?”

He read the comment over many times, and he felt the tips of his fingers begin to grow cold. This evaluation was much different than the copy-pasted phrases such as “a pleasure to have in class” that his elementary school teachers had written on everybody’s report cards. Wesley had spent five long years at Vochertepp, but he still knew that progress reports from normal schools never made it sound like they were afraid of their students.

He shut the folder and tossed it back on the desk. He skimmed through the other folders, brow furrowed and mouth tight. Most of it seemed normal, although some details raised some questions, but he was too busy reading to stop and think about them too hard. He had saved the “Student/Classroom Evals” for last. This one was thick, and Wesely held it for a moment, judging the weight of it. “Alright, Jeffy. Let’s see what else you have to say about us.”

When he riffled through the papers, he found that each was for a different classroom. He pushed through the pages until he found the one for this class. His name was listed with the rest of the class, and again, he recognized Mr. Jefferson’s handwriting next to the names.

L. Bauver-Caldwell: Student unaware of lineage, and will not see healthy development until awareness. Stagnant until pushed.
A. Bolton: Large potential for powerset, has not yet scraped surface. Pushed by companionship.
W. Campbell: See above. Similar potential. Lacks discipline.
E. Lionne: Gentle demeanor shows possible stunting of power growth. Possible potential for further expansion.
A. Ripley: Shows remorse. Useful powerset. Lacks confidence.
G. Su-yun: Lacks remorse. Distant. Turnaround of powerset could be possible. Stagnant until pushed.

“Guys, hey,” he said, raising his voice so that the others could hear him. “I found some weird shit.”

It was then that he remembered that he hadn’t even gotten to the bottom drawer of the desk yet. He put the folder he was holding back down, but he left it open to the page he had just been reading. He stepped back and crouched in front of the drawer. When he grasped the handle and tugged, he found that it wouldn’t give.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling harder in frustration. It still wouldn’t budge. He ran his hand over the front of it, but he couldn’t find a keyhole. “Hey, also, if anyone has any special drawer opening powers, now would be the time to speak up. Something is blocking this one.”


Flutz ravensunset stellamaris idiot cablebelly

 

[stellamaris]

stas.

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  anxious but determined
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  jefferson's classroom
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  cablebelly Flutz Maverick. idiot ravensunset
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

Concern and shame quickly morphed into surprise as Louis and Wes commended Stas for her actions, brows lifting up slightly, gaze darting between the two boys as if she was unsure of their sincerity.

Badass?

She'd merely attempted taking the fall for Wes and had failed to fool Jefferson in the process. What about that was badass?

Regardless of how she felt, she couldn't help noticing the way Wes' voice trailed off as he attempted to soothe her guilt. It was selfless of him, really, to go as far as to put even himself down in the process. But that wasn't what Stas wanted, and she'd parted her lips to interrupt him when he quickly changed the subject.

It'll be great, Louis and I will show you the ropes.

Like several times before with Wes, she found herself incapable of holding back the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, guilt momentarily forgotten.

Until Alex stood and tried the door only to find it locked before sitting back down. There was no way Jefferson had been so spooked that he would've left the door unlocked. He was intense, but not incompetent. If there was anything she'd learned about the hot-headed professor, it was that he would stop at nothing to extinguish any spark of joy or optimism in his students' eyes. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy it. Stas' faint smile faded at the thought.

What did surprise her was Gian's voice sounding from the other side of the room. Stas turned her head to look at the dark-haired girl but was unsurprised to find her already slipping her headphones on, blocking out the rest of the world and leaving no room for conversation. Her sympathetic gaze flickered to Edith before hushed voices and the sound of rustling papers caught her attention.

You've got to be kidding me-

Apparently masochists, Louis and Wes were emptying the contents of Jefferson's desk as if he couldn't just walk through the door at any given moment.

"Wait--"

she started, standing from her desk. She wouldn't be able to stand it if anyone else got hurt and she'd just sat idly by – again.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?"

she directed at Wes, eyes widening with concern as he dropped folders onto Jefferson's desk, all labeled. Then he mentioned weird shit and a blocked drawer, and, well, her interest was piqued despite her better instincts.

Stas quickly walked over, half ready to convince the boys back to their desks to avoid further punishment before she caught sight of her name and stopped in her tracks, tentatively picking the folder up off of the desk. Under her name was Jefferson's handwriting. It read:

Large potential for powerset, has not yet scraped surface. Pushed by companionship.

"W-Wh–"

she didn't even finish the word as she continued down the page. All of her classmates were listed with their accompanying "evaluations," all power-related. She blinked once, then twice, shaking her head in disbelief. Stas set the folder down and picked up the next one, and then the next one, before she had to take a step back, barely-masked fear written all over her face. This didn't make any sense. She knew Vochertepp's was bad – that there were missing students and that their methods of punishment were cruel, at best – but this? This seemed like some kind of experiment. Like they were lab rats merely being studied and pushed towards a goal rather than students. This wasn't normal.

Her heart was pounding as she stared at the desk, taking another step back until she was met with something blocking her. Someone, rather. She murmured an apology to Wes before her feet carried her over to the door, sure that their professor would be back any moment and catch them in an even more precarious situation than before. But those folders – they deserved to know what was in them.

With a glance at the pink slip already on her desk, Stas' thoughts went back to earlier, and, no longer torn, she closed her eyes and focused once more on the creatures she'd been drawing for the past week. Someone was going to have to look out for Jefferson's return or they'd all be punished.

At first she winced at the sheer volume of everything around her, reaching up to cover her ears in an attempt to block it out. Sounds of rustling paper and shouting – was that snoring? – were coming from across the hall, the voices too loud to be discernible. She took a deep breath and attempted to even out her skittering heart rate before letting her hands drop to her sides, the volume more manageable now. Focused.

Stas opened her eyes and turned to address the rest of her classmates.

"Whatever we're doing, we better do something fast. I can listen for Jefferson, but I can't guarantee how much time we'll have."

she urged, voice loud to her own ears as she spared pleading, glowy-eyed glances to everyone. Her gaze rested on Gian and Alex a beat longer before she turned and pressed her ear to the cool surface of the door.

For one terrifying moment, she realized this was actually pretty badass.

freaks

surf curse

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[boo.]

scroll

spitfire.

germ.

mood

mood here

outfit

outfit

location

location here

interactions

interactions here

tags

tags here

Yes, Germ and Del were technically rivals, but they made a great tag team. Germ crossed her arms over her chest as the number one student chewed out Tiffany in his own detached sort of way. Germ kind of wished she could have that kind of control, that icy-cold, completely unbreakable exterior. As much as she tried to guard her emotions, something in her eyes always tended to burn out, something she couldn’t quite manage.

Her eyebrow cocked at Del as he tucked an important-looking envelope under his arm. What makes him think he’s qualified to hang onto that? Matt seemed to be in solidarity with her, and suggested that he was about to wake up Mrs. Lyet. Yeah, good luck with that.

Germ realized she’d made a huge mistake by taking her eyes off Tiffany. Her head snapped to pinpoint the blonde, but it was already too late. Flecks of red energy danced around her, and the air snapped with a coppery tang. Tiffany echoed one of Del’s remarks ironically, her fingers encased with the power she was prepared to release.

“Don’t you even—"

Germ didn’t get to finish. Although she swerved out of the way of Tiffany’s blast, Germ quickly realized it hadn’t been aimed at her. She didn’t need to turn around to hear the flutter of envelopes cascading through the air, raining through the classroom in chaos that reflected Tiffany perfectly.

“Oh you little shit,”

muttered Germ, fishing a tissue from her pocket and holding it against the side of her mouth soak up the little droplet of blood that had bubbled up there. Paper was everywhere, littering the floor, making the classroom look as if a printer had just exploded. Voices sprang up from all corners of the room as students began to dangerously contemplate their next move; find their own letter, or be good students and stay put? Tiffany obviously knew what she was doing. In the chaos, she’d grabbed her own letter (who the fuck would want to stay in touch with her?) and gleefully torn it open.

Someone who didn’t know Germ would probably have expected her to retaliate. For a split second, it looked like she would. Smoke dribbled out of her mouth, and momentarily, her eyes flashed green. More than anything else, she would have loved to let loose then and there. But Germ and likely Tiffany knew that she could never do such a thing, not if anything she’d done up until now meant anything. Germ had done this to herself.

A lethargic sheet abruptly draped itself over Germ’s face, and suddenly it was like she didn’t care. Her eyes were half-lidded and dark, and her hands fell loosely to her sides, no longer gripping the desk as if she was about to hurl it toward the blonde-haired monster. All of a sudden, Germ didn’t seem threatening anymore; or maybe, it was more subtle. There was still something treacherous about her, as if underestimating her would prove fatal. She raked her eyes slowly over Tiffany, and an unimpressed huff slid through her lips.

I won’t give you the satisfaction of a reply, Tiffany.

That was the hard part of playing teacher’s pet—you couldn’t risk bending the rules, even if it meant backing down. But Germ had nothing to prove to Tiffany, or so she convinced herself. Her cracked lips parted in a wide, obviously-fake smile that flickered harshly like a fluorescent lightbulb. In that instant, the actual lights flipped off, dousing the room in an uncomfortable darkness, and amid the hushed rise of confused voices, Germ twisted into her seat and pushed herself stiffly against the back of the chair. It didn’t matter what everyone was doing; she’d let herself go too far this time, and the safest thing to do was wait it out. And wait she did, until the lights turned back on (probably the result of some poor student losing control again).

She stared at the pencil marks in her desk, and her eye twitched as Del’s voice rose in characteristic authority, emphasized by a familiar shinggg of ice. She didn’t need to look back at Tiffany to know what’d happened, and the corner of her lip quirked up. Thanks, Del. That was something Vochertepp liked about him, something that Germ lacked: his authoritative, imposing nature. Everything about him said “leader.” He was someone that could definitely get away with this kind of thing, because Vochertepp knew they could use it. Calls of protest rose over Del’s move, and even the ever-cautious Matt demanded order. Through it all, Germ kept her eyes straight ahead, as if she wanted to take notes on steady rasp of Mrs. Lyet’s snores. It was kind of amusing, the way chaos bloomed so rapidly, evolving into a situation that could have been easily avoided had Mrs. Lyet simply been awake. Germ brushed her hand over her button-up, smoothing out the folds, and wondered what the next meal would be.

SLAM! Tiffany had issues, and it was a little disturbing. Germ flinched in her seat, and although her lips were closed in a tight line, her eyes flashed alarm. Was she really willing to go so far? Germ had seen students like her come and go, and it always ended the same way; Tiffany had obviously been here long enough to know that this “school” was garbage. But she obviously hadn’t learned that resistance was useless. There was no point in fighting back, because there was no winning here. Whatever Tiffany hoped to effect by her rage-fueled waxing would never come to fruition.

Germ knew. And for a moment, Germ felt pity for Tiffany, because she agreed with everything she said. It was just a matter of being smart about it.

This has gone on long enough. Germ blinked in surprise and realized she’d stood up again, and that this time she had taken three steps toward Mrs. Lyet’s desk.

What am I going to do? Germ’s heart had picked up its pace. Tiffany’s words stung the air like rubbing alcohol, cutting into Germ’s scarred mind and making it bleed. I’ll never be able to wake her up.

She was exactly four and a half feet away from Mrs. Lyet’s desk when Lyric’s voice overrode the remaining echoes of Tiffany, and she froze.

Names. My name. I can’t move.

As a resident of Vochertepp these past eleven years, Germ had spent quite a bit of time speculating what these people really wanted. This paper was the first real piece of evidence she’d heard, because being a good student meant that kind of infiltration was impossible. Numbers and names churned chaotically in her brain. If her face had been visible to anyone other than the sleeping Mrs. Lyet, they would have glimpsed a shimmer of dread pass over her face.

Germ hated Vochertepp, but she was smart enough that it scared her more than anything. They’re using us. Replacement trials. First attempt. They push us to explode for a reason. Batch... We’re part of a batch. It’s all a test. They’re preparing us for something. Although the numbers meant nothing to Germ, the fact that she’d been right to speculate was mind-shattering.

Digging her hands into her pockets so that no one could see the tremor in her fingers, she pushed past Matt and paused briefly in front of the door.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

I think I’m gonna be sick.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[fin]

delano.

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  several people. boo. erzulie cablebelly mikaluvkitties calypso
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

A harsh set of eyes fixed themselves over Lyric Black as she took to the manilla envelope. It was a highly sensitive document by the looks of it meant only for Mrs. Lyet. Lyric's filthy paws only tampered at its integrity and put the school's information in jeopardy. Delano had noticed the questioning looks within the classroom when he first took to guarding the envelope, doubting Thomas’ who challenged him as its warden. Most of them weren’t bold enough to speak up, all of them incapable of doing what the school had trained them to do. Neutralize situations like this whenever possible, and adequately utilize their metahuman abilities in more challenging scenarios like when it came to subduing Tiffany Markham.

Her struggle was a short-lived victory for Delano, but there was no prestige in muting miscreants. One of the many ungrateful rats that scurried around the school, spreading disease and trouble wherever their mischievous paws could reach. Even from where he stood ahead of the classroom, Del could feel each and every ice particle that marked her lips and held her still. The warm quiver of her breath against his ice. It’d stunned her, Delano knew, and with every piece of his frozen moisture that melted, he congealed it again and again. She would be kept shut.

The real threat was in the envelope meant for Mrs. Lyet. Delano had failed to retrieve all of them, but there left the one obviously more important than the rest.

So, when the girl with the heart-shaped glasses stumbled between himself and Lyric Black, Delano propped up a questioning brow. He didn't have time for this, but she quickly stumbled into a race of words. Jumbling, bumbling, and fumbling over herself as she tried to make a coherent argument.

Some students had made him out to be the villain simply because he had the nerve to do what had to be done. It made him sick to hear the way that this girl pleaded with him… Like he was some menace to be stopped. So far he’d only tried to do the right thing, but the tremble in her voice as she stammered up at him… Even under those corny heart-shaped glasses, he could tell that she was afraid. Afraid of him, and what he'd done to Tiffany. What he had to do.

He was meant to be a hero. A protector of life, and officer of the law. Delano saw nothing in others fearing him, it brought him no such triumph to be labeled the bad guy in the story. Instead, annoyance, anger, and disappointment raged through him like the most dangerous snowstorm. This was not the way he was meant to be treated. How could she say such a thing.

“… You don’t want another student to report you for what you did to Tiffany, right?”

What Delano did? What had he done, if not everything he’d been taught? All what they were supposed to do?

Sharp brows investigated the unfittingly outspoken girl. He might not have given two kahoots about many of the other students but Delano kept his tabs. The fact that he vaguely recognized her meant that she was relatively new… and in no place to criticize the way that he operated. He’d simply been caught off guard, and nothing more. Giving an ear to the undeserving. Too many times today he'd been distracted as he'd almost bought the lie fed to him by the student in bright red glasses. He was still as far from the envelope as before that useless pseudo-analysation and that was where his focus was most needed. His sights shifted past Mirabelle, and back to Lyric behind her.

Before he even had a chance to calculate a passive-aggressive response, Delano would not be interrupted once, but twice in the next moment. Firstly by Matthew who tried his best to put reins on the entire situation. A valiant effort, but he did better at being gentle and kind, than asserting any form of dominance. Delano mustered only a once-over at his friend, but the true punchline came at Tiffany Markham’s crazed appearance post-lights out. They exchanged another look then, this one of surprise rather than judging.

Her hair was frizzier than ever, eyes manic as if they itched to escape her skull. Her eyes glowed power too abundant for somebody as reckless as her. Worst of all was the blood and water dripped from her lips, Delano's bondage ripped away from its prisoner. Tiffany stood isolated from any classroom furniture as she’d kicked it all away in that frenzy. There was a familiarity to her display of lunacy, her actions and tone akin to one Andromeda Morales. His younger sister. He stiffened, but maintained a straight gaze contrary to her unhinged glare. His hands balled into fists, a soft blue hue masked his brown irises. He was prepared to engage if need be. Tiffany may not have been as crazy as his younger sister, but she was so unpredictable and that alone made her very dangerous.

It wasn’t her rant that aggravated Delano, but the way that it infected the students in the classroom. Ears perked up to drink up every last drop of bullshit that she spewed in all of her radicalized nonsense. They ate it up like custard from a giant, psychokinetic baby in need of a bib for all that blood dripping down her chin. When she was done, the rip of an envelope being torn into was the killing blow for this courageous soldier. He'd lost the last essence of this mission remaining and it sickened him.

His legs felt like jelly, eyes fearful as they returned to their normal shade. Delano's hands knew not what to do at his side, responding to his void thoughts in this time all too uncomfortable for him.

Lyet’s snoring blared through his head like Big Ben's ringing, a sound amplified only by his own panic. The fear of the woman he’d come to see as a maternal figure of sorts awake to see this epic failure of a classroom cracked at his ice- at all the self-assuredness that'd held him upright.

Delano knew Mrs. Lyet enough to have heard the stories of her glory days from the graying woman herself. She’d boasted a strength that knew no bounds, and a witty clapback that she still capsulated in her fun-loving attitude today. It was impossible to wake somebody who used their metahuman abilities as actively as Lyet to stay active and keep up with her students. The toll that her consistent use of her power took on her body made it almost impossible to wake her from that slumber, yet Delano wallowed in that fear like a child lost at the fair. Too much swirled around him, and whether or not he thought that he needed or didn’t need her, Mrs. Lyet’s bright personality could not illuminate his grim seriousness today.

He had been left alone here, and made to be a part of something he truly did not want to be. Delano would not defile the rules set up at Vochertepp. He would not further disrespect his superiors, and this mixed in with shame spurred his decision to leave. He needed to get out of here.

“If you’re going to read the envelope, then read that shit without me.” But Delano’s meekwords surely fell on deaf ears. Lyric’s words drowned out Mrs. Lyet’s snoring before he could exit the room, names and dates escaped her lips. Replacement and extractions, students clumped together in batches, and codes unknown to Delano strewn in between. Shocked eyes mirrored Delano's own as he heard it all.

An eidetic memory made it impossible for him to forget what Lyric had said even after reactive murmurs and gasps filled their classroom. He’d stopped short of the door as he tried to make sense of all what they hadn’t been supposed to hear. Mrs. Lyet was a close friend of his family, there was no way his name mentioned for extraction could be a part of some malicious plot… right? The letter had been mailed to her after all. There had to be some reasonable explanation for it all. There had to-

“Hey!” Delano growled instinctively. Something brushed against his blazer and snapped him awake from the dwindling rabbit hole of his own thoughts growing rapidly in conjunction with what they'd all just heard. It really was a much needed distraction from them.

The head of voluminous curly hair speeding past Delano and into the hallway made it clear who it was. “You’re not supposed to…” He started, voice trailing off as she disappeared into the halls. Germaine, albeit a rival, seemed to lose all rational thinking when it came to the series of words and numbers obviously not meant for them. She was caught off guard by the contents of that envelope in a way Delano hadn't expected of her. Ever prepared, the rushed state she was in was unlike the ever-assured Pinchon he'd always been forced up against. One of them, the school's best and brightest, had already fallen. Delano adjusted his tie. He simply would not be the next.

With a weighty huff of breath, he forced the text of that letter into the furthest depths of his brain. Tucking it there until it could be explained at a later time. For now, it would be nothing but a useless memory that could surely be explained if people simply didn’t jump to conclusions. Naturally, part of Delano still questioned it all, but another simply couldn’t function if everything that he knew turned out to be a lie. He wouldn’t believe that, not even for a second. He clinged onto the idea of a valid reason being present for all of this.

“If we didn’t have rules, we’d have chaos,” he muttered under his breath. Once again, things were still in need of order. Delano would start there.

His eyes met with Matthew’s, and it was obvious that there was a bit of uncertainty in them. The way they trembled ever so slightly showed his friend that all probably was not okay with, but the tilt of his head towards the hallway detailed the next course of action. Jumping head first into another task like he always did so well. In order to focus- to engage efficiently, Delano needed a goal. A cause to work under, and tidying things up was what he needed to do.

It also proved to show that although icy in how he handled his relationship with Matthew, he was trusting him with supervising the classroom in his absence. In a futile effort, his friend would probably try to awake Mrs. Lyet to no avail. It was after that, that things truly fell into Matthew's hands. With no lucrative letter to go after anymore, or prodigy to oppose the rebel, it was simply a matter of keeping everybody else in the classroom whilst he was gone. Delano could not say all of this through a matching glance, but Matthew could put two and two together as he progressed.

The heavy door slammed shut behind Delano. He held onto the door knob for a moment longer than usual as he steadied his breathing, and readied himself for the search and rescue at hand. With a swivel on the heel, he was focused and on the ball again. Studying the halls in search of those dark brown locs. He followed faint echoes of a second set of footsteps in those halls. With each stride, Lyet's snoring and Lyric's words became less prominent in his mind and his focus was purely and truly to locate this student and return her to where she belonged.

Delano was right, all he needed was a break from that damned classroom.

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Flutz]

Alex rubbed the leather of his gloves together before he ran his hands up and down his arms. His hair stood on end where goosebumps had formed and he glanced toward the source of the eyes he'd felt on him. At Mr. Jefferson's desk, Wes leaned against the dark, stained wood and Louis arrogantly occupied the chair. Blood was whooshing through his head, clouding his ears as he glared at the pair, watching as their mouths moved and their lips quirked up in smiles.

He jumped as Gian spoke behind him. The teenager's raspy voice never failed to surprise Alex on the rare occasions when Gian spoke. The tone fit Gian's aura to a T, but he couldn't seem to connect it to her small frame. Her words caused his eyes to flit to the window, considering. He wasn't going to throw himself out of it, that was for sure, but whether anyone besides Louis could make a dent in the glass. Vochertepp no doubt reinforced their windows.

As he heard the sliding of drawers against wood, Alex whipped his head back to face the front of the room. His mouth dropped open and he watched in horror as Wesley emptied the contents of the drawer onto the desk's surface. "Hey, you can't just-" Alex's eyes widened further as Wesley seemingly ignored him to pick up a folder and start reading. He read the words on the open folder, 'High Risk Students'. No, they had to stop. They weren't just messing with Mr. Jefferson anymore. They were poking the bear named Vochertepp and they had no idea about its power.

Alex had always wondered about the other punishments Vochertepp administered. What he did know, was that what he'd participated in was nowhere near the worst. And Alex had hurt people, twice irreparably. Opening that drawer would cross a line they couldn't see. Alex had to stop them. He had to help them.

His gaze darted across the room, looking for any way to stop them. His eyes lingered on the door. Mr. Jefferson had effectively stopped Alex from getting any help, and no way was he strong enough, or trusted enough, to stop the two students at the front of the room. When Anastasia stood, voicing her own protests, Alex saw an ally. Except then she walked to the desk and read her own entry, and Alex's heart dropped. Are they all idiots?!

He stood and pushed his own chair in, the chair legs squeaking across the floor. He bit his lip into his mouth as he approached Mr. Jefferson's desk, looking down at the open folder. He caught sight of his own description. 'Shows remorse. Useful powerset. Lacks confidence.' It was true but so impersonal. Why wasn't there more? Everything Alex did--for Howell, for Vochertepp--was compressed into two simple words. Useful powerset. His hand clenched, his glove stopping nails from shaping crescents in his flesh. Maybe he could use it now. Indecision warred on his face as he considered his next step, but as he glanced to the door where Anastasia had posted herself and then back toward the desk, he made his decision. He had to help them, even if they wouldn't appreciate it in the moment.

He brought both hands up and used his left to remove the glove from his right. Already, Alex missed the heat the gloves provided, cool air causing the moisture on his hand to chill. He flexed his hand, watching the motions of the tendons. His resolve hardened and his eyes cleared as he faced the two boys in front of him. "I'll help. In case Mr. Jefferson comes back, I mean. I'll help."

He didn't wait for a reply as he turned toward the door. Sometimes good people have to do bad things, he repeated, desperately clutching to the words. Besides, Anastasia had proven minutes ago she was willing to sacrifice herself for her friends. This time it just wouldn't happen in the way she thought.

Alex stopped about a foot from the door, standing behind Anastasia as she pressed her head against it. He ignored the quick glance directed at him before she closed her eyes once more to focus on the sounds outside. His eyes skittered around the room as he tilted his body to block sight of his right hand from Wesley and Louis. Edith could still see him if she looked, but if he moved any closer, it would arouse more suspicion than it would hide. And anyway, Edith was currently staring intently at a plant. Alex could only hope she wouldn't notice or if she did, that she wouldn't jump to any bad conclusions.

Cautiously, he reached his hand out and curled his fingers around Anastasia's wrist. He wished the contact would burn him, with no such luck. I'm sorry about this.

Three seconds ticked by as Alex constructed the scene in his head, and then it began.

The hallway was dark. Too dark to make out any details besides the stone walls that extended out from a single door in front of Stas. The door's material was metal, small drips of condensation indicated the chill in the air. The door's surface was level, save for a small window, five feet off the ground, that allowed a peek inside the room. Inside was a single light bulb, caged into the ceiling, bringing a sliver of light to the room. Then a figure, one that must have been previously hunched against the door, invisible to the observer's eyes, flew across the room. Shaggy black hair swung with the motion, and then the figure collided with the opposite wall, the impact causing his head to crack, even despite the wall's padding.

Louis reeled back, falling to his knees. "Please... stop. I can't-" the boy coughed, blood coming out to dot his lips and the floor before shadows swallowed his throat and mouth. As the perspective shifted and 'Stas' looked around, she saw no one else inside. The scene blurred and then cleared, as if the viewer had squinted, and it was clear a shadow, Louis' shadow, was the culprit. Overwhelmed and overpowered, Louis couldn't stop the darkness seeping out of him. His control in shambles, his body was breaking itself.

Louis' body was picked up once again, and the boy rocketed towards the room's right wall. His nose hit padding and blood spewed from it as he was flung back. With one more sickening crack against the wall, Louis slumped. As his body sat, unmoving, the shadows spread to cover him completely.

As she watched, Stas could hear a warbled voice echoing in the atmosphere. "You have to stop them. Detention is nowhere near the worst that can happen. Each second they push boundaries leads them closer to this. Help them."

Wes sat in a similar room, except there was a small generator buzzing against the back wall of this one. Said student was already hunched against a wall, head lolling down. His black hair had lost its usual frizz, now damp against his forehead. Every few seconds, his chest would rise and his face would scrunch in pain. He cried out, clenching his teeth as his eyes tracked a spark forming in his hand. He did his best to hold the hand away from his body, but as electricity shot out from the appendage, Wes screamed. It was gut-wrenching. A scream of true agony.

A focused view on Wes' clothes and arms saw burns scattered about. Charred fabric mixed with the scent of burning flesh. As the electricity faded and the room dimmed, Wes dropped even further onto the floor. As he looked to the ceiling, the tell-tale spark in Wes' eyes dulled and tears began to form.

Alex stepped back and, for the slightest moment, he felt peace. He'd helped. And then a cord snapped. Fear overtook him. But it wasn't at the thought of Jefferson returning, nor about possible punishment. It was fear at what he'd done. Without Howell's urging, or Jefferson, or any of the other Vochertepp staff pushing him forward, he'd manipulated someone. His head pounded as his heart wailed.

 

[blue-jay]

Just keep picking up letters. Matt will take care of everything. Just keep picking up letters. Just keep... Biting back tears, Sylvie continued the task of collecting the scattered letters. Her movements were awkward (more than was typical for her) and robotic. She heard movement and the voices of her classmates, but it all sounded as if she was underwater. Or were they the ones underwater? For the moment, she was entirely checked out, prompted by the letter to think about her life before Vochertepp.

The Millennium City Home for Metahuman Children hadn’t been unpleasant by any means. Sure, Sylvie had had trouble making friends with the other kids, but she’d take being a friendless loser in a children’s home over being a friendless loser in a cult any day. Most of the kids were rebellious and outspoken, making it hard for the diffident photokinetic to squeeze her way into dinnertime conversations. If Vochertepp thought she was awkward, they should’ve seen her back then. As one could imagine, growing up with fanatics hadn’t been great for developing social skills.

Although she didn’t mesh with the other abandoned children, she didn’t have as much trouble talking to the caretakers. Some were sweet, some were… less than sweet. However, they all had a way of making her feel like a person—like Sylvie!

Occasionally, some of the older kids would ask about her power, specifically about sunlight. About its heat, its intensity. About its destructive capability. About why Sylvie was content with making night lights for reading and the occasional small blast when she had the potential to blow holes in buildings. The home came closest to being unpleasant in these moments, where she was made to feel more like the Beacon than herself. In pushing her to embrace her potential, all anyone ever did was make her fear it. They asked too much about the light, never paying attention to the bearer of it.

Sylvie felt that, unless she was glowing, she had this way of simply… fading away. Being forgotten about. It hurt in a weird way. Is that why she tried so hard to be other things? A good student? A good friend? A good person? So that, if the Beacon ever left, something else would remain? Her letter had said that, now that she was eighteen, her time at the children’s home had come to an end. It said that the caretakers were no longer responsible for her. Essentially: aside from Vochertepp, she had nowhere to go. Except, Sylvie wasn’t eighteen, meaning they had her birthday wrong. A filing error had left her homeless. A typo, even.

Sylvie knew that this letter had been coming regardless. It was inevitable. But the fact that it had come early, forcing her to reckon with an uncomfortable thought that she had wanted to put off for as long as possible, really fucking sucked. The uncomfortable thought: There will come a point where Vochertepp is all that I have. That point was now. Sylvie felt nauseated. She felt profoundly lost.

SMASH!

Sylvie was pulled gasping from the pool of her thoughts by the sound of ice shattering. She tuned back into the world around her and turned around. She saw Del, Matt, Lyric with the now-opened manila envelope, and some girl with heart-shaped glasses (Are those in dress code?) standing in the middle of them all. Then she looked to where the sound had come from. There’s no way… Seeing the bloody mess left on Tiffany’s desk and dripping from her face made Sylvie lose her balance. She stepped back shakily and tripped on someone’s foot. She stumbled backward and landed hard on her butt, wincing from the pain.

“Owww!” Though the fall hadn’t been pretty, Sylvie still held the stack of letters she had gathered thanks to the death grip she had unknowingly wrapped around them. When she looked up, terribly flushed, to see who she had tripped over, she found herself looking at Bob. Sylvie lost the ability to hold back her tears for a second, and a few trailed from her eyes quickly and silently. Everything stacked onto each other: the embarrassment from falling. The anger from reading the letter. The anxiety from becoming suddenly aware of how much was happening around her. The disgust that arose upon seeing what Tiff the destroyer had done willingly to her own face. It was all too much.

Sylvie quickly got up and began wiping at the tears she had let escape with the sleeve of her uniform. She started to apologize to Bob, her voice small and choked, “I-I’m so sorry, Bob. I just got a bit diz—.”

“Do you guys fucking see this?”

Sylvie was interrupted by Tiffany’s voice tearing through the room, demanding attention. For the first time all day, the glowing girl’s racing mind quieted and she simply soaked in Tiffany’s words the way she would light. A glaring, red sort of light. “You’re all so fuckin’ blind you don’t even realize how crazy a place we’re in! They open our mail, for fuck’s sake! Breathe down our throats! And you let them!” Sylvie, with the letters crushed in her right hand so tightly that her palm now had paper cuts, thought in response: But they’re all that I have. Literally, now. I don’t have anywhere. I don’t have anyone. Doing well here is the only way. Sylvie thought these words, but the usual passion was missing from them, almost as if she didn’t quite believe what she was telling herself. Were Tiffany’s ideas reaching too deep?

Then Lyric read the letter, and Sylvie almost swooned again. The contents of the letter brought to mind the books that passed for scripture back at the Bastion. These pseudo-holy books, written by the adults of the cult, contained the names of all the cult's metahumans, their supposed godly ancestors, and the fate they were meant for. The letter Lyric was reading was much more numerical and cryptic, but hearing all of those names and digits, especially her own, gave Sylvie the impression that whoever wrote the letter had something in store for her and her classmates the same way the priests of the Bastion had things in store for her—for the fucking Beacon.

But this place—Vochertepp… It can’t be like the Bastion. It CAN’T be! I came here to get away from all of that. To get AWAY from people telling me what to be and wanting to use me. I don’t wanna be 8759 or whatever the fuck it said. It can’t be that I came all this way just to—There has to be an explanation! There HAS to be! Sylvie looked around for Germ and Delano, sure that her much more capable rivals (if she could call them that) would know what to think of the situation and how to handle it.

They were nowhere to be found, the only evidence that they had even been there being the sound of the classroom door closing. Shit shit shit! Sylvie felt her stomach twisting. Her heart felt like it was fighting to get out of her chest. She didn’t know it, but she was glowing intensely. Not enough to blind anyone, but certainly enough to be noticeable. The light was coming in bright, warm pulses. She was a little, panicking star.

Sylvie needed something to do. She thought about leaving the classroom as Germ and Del had but felt unable to move her legs. She watched as Clover made her way over to Tiffany with a first aid kit. She didn’t want anything to do with Tiffany at the moment. She looked at Lyric, then the girl with heart-shaped glasses (who looked kind of familiar, but Sylvie didn’t have time to worry about that right now), and found nothing to do.

That left one thing: ask the TA whom she trusted dearly. Sylvie looked at Matt and, with her face flushed and her body radiating, pleaded in a voice that broke up as she spoke, “Please tell me what the fuck is happening, Matt!” Sylvie’s eyes widened and her left hand rushed to cover her mouth almost as soon as the words were spoken. I cussed. I just cussed in front of a TA!

nh1 mikaluvkitties

the beacon

sylvie.

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♡coded by uxie♡

 

[idiot]

gian su-yun.

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Before Gian could hear Edith's reply her ears were blasted with the loud - almost deafening - music that seemingly didn't have much effect on her ears. If only you could turn it up more. Gian wondered if her senses were dulling since using her powers. Apart from the obvious physical effects, Gian was sure that she was more sluggish and lethargic than the average seventeen-year-old.

She was about to pull out an unfilled crossword that she had slipped into her notebook. Well, that was until she saw the troublesome pair approaching Jefferson's desk. What now? Wes and Louis began rifling through the drawers of the wooden desk. It wasn't until Anastasia stood up did Gian tug the headphones back around her neck. They really want all of us to get detention, huh?

Gian's interest was piqued though when Anastasia's protesting halted and her face shifted into something of...fear. The source of the fear was in her grip, fingers taut against the documents. She seemed speechless which was new for her. What made her so scared?

Wes was seemingly tugging on something at Jefferson's desk and the rattling confirmed it had to be one of the drawers. Jefferson locking away his dirty little secrets? Big shock. Alex's meek voice followed, he was clearly rattled by the actions unfolding. To be fair, Gian wasn't quite keen on detention either. Knowing Jefferson they would all suffer if he walked in right now. The man takes no victims.

Alex soon left his seat...offering to help as well? Okay, what the hell is happening to everyone? All she needed was the gentle Edith to start bashing the locked drawer and she could prove her hypothesis that they were in some simulation or surreal dream. That was to be determined as Edith stood by the window, tending to Jefferson's dying plant that needed some TLC.

The curiosity was too much. The rotting teenager craved knowledge and loved learning new things. What made Anastasia scared qualified.

Forcing herself to stand up, a sickening crack came from her knees. Locked again. Before she could take a step she heard Anastasia, "Whatever we're doing, we better do something fast. I can listen for Jefferson, but I can't guarantee how much time we'll have." Her glowing eyes lingered in Gian's direction which caused her to raise an eyebrow.

Ignoring the slight pain through her legs, Gian skulked towards the others. She had opted to wear tights under the school skirt, along with the long-sleeved button-down to hide any skin. The blazer thrown over the top and the school tie lazily done.

Picking up the discarded documents, she scanned over them. Lacks remorse...nice try Jefferson. Gian wished she lacked remorse. The guilt of her mother wouldn't be seeping into her head at every waking moment if so. Gian wasn't completely ignorant to her lack of social skills, which she could only surmised led to the observation. That's what happens when you are raised in a forest in the middle of no where.

Distant? Okay, fair game.

Turnaround of powerset could be possible? Now this one interested her the most. What did he mean by turnaround?

Unfortunately she didn't have much time to consider it as Alex brushed past her, approaching Anastasia. She assumed he was going to help keep a lookout.

That left Gian with Wes and Louis. Wes continued to rattle the drawer to no avail. Running her gloved hand against the wooden desk her eyes widened in realisation.

Shoving the document into her blazer's pocket she considered the intrusive thought.

What Gian was thinking wasn't going to leave her in Jefferson's good graces. Then again, was she already there to begin with?

The thought of opening the drawer for her classmates filled her with an odd sense of warmth. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, slowly rising up and sending a blush to her chalky, sickly complexion. They clearly wanted to this open and hell - so did Gian. Detention didn't seem like a great place to spend her afternoon but the idea of having this warmth stay, to just linger for a moment longer, was worth it all.

Stagnant until pushed.

Screw it.

Unceremoniously tugging off her left glove, she placed in on the desk. She tried to ignore the embarrassment of what hid underneath. From her fingertips to the first joint in her fingers, they were a rotted, sickening green. Her nails were missing on each finger and slightly shrivelled.

Gian made sure to keep her head lowered, avoiding any stares from her classmates.

Dropping down onto her knees on the side of the desk she gently pressed her bare hand onto the underside of the locked drawer.

Her mouth opened ajar, Gian's eyes glowed the rotting green that mirrored the streaks in her hair.

The wood that came into contact with her fingers began to fall apart, dripping into rotted clumps on the floor.

Stagnant until pushed, huh, Jefferson?

Gian didn't even notice the rotting green creeping down her fingers, even though it was only an insignificant amount, the rot had spread.

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ravensunset]

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  Mr. Jefferson's classroom.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  cablebelly @subtle thrill Flutz Maverick. stellamaris idiot
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

edith.

Wes’ words broke right through Edith’s thoughts. Keeping a hand over the growing plant, she looked over to find him and Louis hovering over Mr. Jefferson’s drawers. So that had been the plan.

As much as Edith wasn’t a troublemaker herself, she understood the curiosity, and to some extent, the small, unassuming girl was all too familiar with the desire to rebel. So she wasn’t one to stop trouble when it happened, either, or even really want it to be stopped. Well. Usually. The earlier scene hadn’t left Edith’s mind just yet, Mr. Jefferson tossing around her classmates like they were made of rags, the orange glow that only meant hurt. Mr. Jefferson was gone from the classroom, yes, but seeing Wes and Louis open the drawer was a loud reminder that he would be back.

Stas’ words the sentiment, with the strong tone of disbelief in her voice making it seem like she could only oppose the boys’ actions. Edith didn’t move from her position as she watched Stas walk over, read whatever they had found, and she watched Stas’ expression change, first as disbelief and confusion spread across it as she stepped back towards the door, and then finally shift into a quiet resolve.

Whatever it was, it was enough to instantly convince Stas that going through the drawer was worth it. Edith hopped off of the windowsill, picking up the succulent she’d been tending to,

Let’s go see what was in that desk, shall we? We’ll be alright, we’ve got an excellent lookout to help us. Oh, looks like we have two lookouts, even,

she relayed to the plant as Alex announced he would join in to help and headed over to Stas.

When she looked from the plant up to Alex, however, there was something wrong about the scene. From where Edith was near the back of the class, she could just see the glow of his eyes. While Stas’ glow indicated surely she’d copied something to help, what little Edith knew of Alex’s couldn’t be that. She didn’t fully know what he could cause, but that his touch could make others freeze in their place, unable to act. Edith’s movement stopped, her body turning to face Stas and Alex instead of continuing towards the desk.

When Edith had first activated her gift, it came as a blessing. That wasn’t an exaggeration, or a figure of speech, they were an actual blessing, a miracle from whatever force controlled this world, something right out of a story, it had come specifically to save her. She knew it wasn’t as strong, in certain ways, as that of the rest of her family, but in other ways, it was just as strong as she needed, for the time. When she came to Vochertepp, however, that had changed. She had a gift, but others had power. They had abilities that came in use, not only to them, but to or even against others. Edith found herself, again and again, in situations she wasn’t strong enough for. And the school had noticed, had pushed her, sure, and in some ways she’d gotten stronger, more precise, and in others it just made her feel misunderstood, incapable. In this classroom, as much as ever, Edith again and again found she could do nothing to help.

Yet, still, Jefferson wasn’t back just yet. The classroom was still more free than it had been just a little ago. She glanced back at the desk, where Gian had approached the other two, looking at the desk. Oh, the whole class had gotten themselves involved now, one way or another. Edith realized that statement should involve her, too.

“Alex,”

There was intent behind the slow way she said the name, pronouncing each part of it as she took another few steps towards them. Her eyes were still glowing, one of her hands holding onto the bottom of the succulent’s pot and the other hovering above it,

“Let go of her.”

The words came too late, as Alex had already taken a step back from her, his plan concluded. Behind them, Gian was kneeling beside the desk, her part irreversibly done as well. Whatever each of them had gotten themselves into, it was too late to stop any part of it.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[stellamaris]

stas.

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  vochertepp's uniform
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  jefferson's classroom
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  cablebelly Flutz Maverick. idiot ravensunset
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

No sound echoed down the hallway. No footsteps, no voice, no Jefferson.

The anticipation gave her time to question her actions – why was she doing something that could potentially get her in trouble when all her life she'd gone out of her way to accomplish the opposite? The answer was simple but the way she felt was complicated: because this was the right thing to do. However, regardless of whether or not it was right, there was still sweat beading on the back of her neck. Her hands had a slight tremor to them if she tried to keep still for too long. The ribs confining her lungs suddenly felt too constricting, like she couldn't get a full breath if she tried. It didn't mean she wasn't terrified and thinking about going back to her desk and shutting everything out like she'd grown so accustomed to doing.

Does that mean I'm a fraud?

Too preoccupied with her thoughts and listening for their professor's return, Stas didn't notice Alex's approach until a cold hand snaked around her wrist. Quickly she snapped her head towards him, golden vibrant gaze meeting dark crimson as pins and needles shot up her arm.

"Alex, what are you–"

The environment around her morphed into something else entirely before she could finish her sentence.

Darkness. She didn't recognize the place and didn't have time to take in her surroundings before Louis came into view, unkempt hair more of a mess than usual and fresh blood standing out against his pale skin. Stas watched, helpless, as his power beat him to a lifeless pulp on the ground, icy fear licking up her spine, an expression of horror enveloping her face.

"Louis?"

her voice cracked and echoed. She took a step towards the door separating them before the scene changed and a voice sounded from everywhere and nowhere, her head whipping in all directions as the sound bounced off of the walls.

You have to stop them. Detention is nowhere near the worst that can happen. Each second they push boundaries leads them closer to this. Help them.

It was Wes in the room this time and something in her broke. At first she'd been too shocked to move, limbs so heavy she felt like crumpling to the floor. Now she rushed forward and banged her hands against the metal door keeping her from her friend, calling his name until her voice went raw, watching in terror as he cried out and crumpled to the ground with glassy eyes.

Why are you showing me this?

It ended almost as quickly as it started, with Stas finding herself back in the classroom staring into Alex's eyes, no longer glowing. Warm tears streaked down her face as she looked around at the room as if to be sure she was still here, that it was real, no longer using her own powers either. Briefly she made eye contact with Edith who was still cradling the potted plant and saying something that she didn't register.

Lower lip pulling up into a frown, she turned back to Alex and stepped back until she felt the cool metal of the door keeping her from going any further. The way she looked at him was enough to convey how she felt without words. She knew what he was capable of – she'd seen it in their other classes on occasion but didn't know the full extent of his abilities. Alex had shown her this and she didn't know why–didn't care why just yet, still reeling from the events she'd just seen. But to have him use it on her like this? Stas' cheeks were wet with fresh tears and her gaze was brimming with hurt and shock as she finally addressed him, voice barely above a whisper.

"Why would you do that?"

For a moment she searched his gaze for remorse. For a reason other than his own fear.

Dissatisfied, she sniffled and brushed past him with a barely audible

"You keep watch,"

before making her way over to the desk that Gian had now rotted the bottom of. Silent except for the occasional sniffle, she watched the scene before her and pondered Alex's words, unceremoniously wiping her cheeks with her hands.

Each second they push boundaries leads them closer to this.

Stas winced as the images sprouted to the forefront of her mind once more, but she didn't act. How would Alex know that? Vochertepp's was bad but– but it couldn't be that bad. In doing this, they all knew they would likely face punishment. Stas knew she would do whatever it took to protect her friends from getting hurt, and she believed that knowing more about Vochertepp's plans for them would keep them one step ahead.

Alex would be wrong. He had to be wrong. He'd just made it up to scare her into obeying. Stas shuddered and steeled herself, glancing between Wes and Louis with barely concealed emotion. Not pushing boundaries had turned her into a passenger in her own life. She wasn't about to stand by any longer when they could be on the cusp of saving themselves from more pain in the future. They deserved to at least know why the school treated them how it did, and she wasn't going to take that away from them. Even if it meant she would have to put herself in harm's way.

freaks

surf curse

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[nh1]

Bob Strassman
​

It was sad to watch everything fall apart around him. Everybody seemed so at odds. There were bright moments sort of but everyone seemed to against each other. He couldn't bring himself to say much. People stormed out of the classroom, all of the so called authorities didn't seem to be able to do much. everything just seemed to go downhill really fast. In some ways he could relate. He remembered when he was really young. A long time ago.

It had been when he was just starting middle school. It had been fun to go to school up that point. But as he got older, the material was getting harder and harder. What made him more frustrated though wasn't the material. It was watching the kids around him. He had grown up with many of them. Had watched them over the years. Some of them were interested in different subjects. But some were definitely not. And it was frustrating to watch people who didn't care at all about studies to get better grades then him, even though he cared and wanted everything to work. He had been so frustrated and sad. One day, he came home from a class where he was struggling to figure out what the teacher was saying when the teacher had asked him to give an answer to a question. Then someone who he knew wasn't at all very good or interested in school had gotten the answer right away.

It had been incredibly demoralizing and hard to know that he wasn't smart enough and didn't seem to understand things. He had moped around a fiar bit until his father had come home and talked with him about what had happened. That day, his father had run an errand for the mine to drive some supplies down to the next town over about an hour and a half away. Tagging along, he had told his father about what had happened and how he didn't feel like anything would work out.

His father had listened and then told him about how when he was younger. His older brother had been one of the strongest and most gifted students that he knew. He was an ace in school. He played football for the high school and was one of the top athletes at the school. He always wanted to be like his brother but he could never match up. Later on, after graduating high school, they both had gotten jobs at the mine. Everything seemed to be going well for them both until he his brother was driving home one day. The roads were iced during the winter and the car was caught in a spin and got out of control. They both tried to get control, but the car rammed into a tree and killed his brother.

Ever since then, he wished that he could go back and change what had happened but he never got the chance.

He remembered clearly his dad telling him then to always give it your best because you never know when your time comes. Its always about putting in your best because you never know how many opportunities you have and when your time may come.

It had been shocking. To see someone get hurt. To see them almost bleed out. He could only watch as Clover seemed to leep up and help as he was caught watching everything fall apart. It seemed like there was no way anyone of these kids could ever really pull it together to graduate from this place in control of their powers. Loads of people seemed so angry and hurt. Everyone looked so desperate. And he hadn't been able to do anything. He was trapped. He couldn't help, he didn't know what to do. Everyone had much more useful and awesome powers that he couldn't hope to replicate. All he could do was try to help the situation. No matter what was going on, he could always do something to help. As a kid with powers, he had a responsibility to use them for good. He couldn't get bogged down by indecision and memories. He breathed deeply. He knew that remembering the cave in would haunt him forever but it was up to him to push past it.

He looked around as he sat up. He had been breathing heavily for some time. He glanced at Clover, she seemed to have everything under control. A couple people left. He thought to himself of what he knew to do. At this point everyone had gotten a chance to get their letters. He didn't know what was going on with that or why it was a big deal. The letter to the teacher made even less sense. He shook his head. He couldn't get caught up in all of his thoughts right now. He had to leave it for later. He just couldn't understand it right now. He head over to the teachers desk.

Since someone was hurt, he could get them to the nurses or at least get someone to help with that. He tapped the teacher on the shoulder with his hand lightly "Mrs Lyet? Mrs Lyet? A student was injured. Could we.... um.....get some help?" He tried to keep his tone professional even though his works implied she wasn't doing her job. He didn't mean for it to come out that way....

 

[cablebelly]

✃​

VIOLENT UPBRINGING​

October 24th, 2079

For the moment that Louis and Wesley’s gaze met, a level of childish delinquency crossed their eyes, and Louis swore he felt like a kid again. If he could just forget the stakes of this school, the cruelties he’d suffered, the way they’d hidden his life and his father from him, it was like being a child in the schoolyard, making mischief and finding hidden truths. He'd been at this school years, long enough to watch his fellow classmates shed their kid eyes and trade them for the hardened gaze of a young adult. It only made the loss of their innocence sting that much more.

The first folder Wesley opened had his name plastered in impersonal typewriter font, like he was a piece of information, a petri dish full of data. It should have been a shock to him that his face was front and center in the high risk column, but Louis didn’t really have the ability to look any paler than he already did, though his expression did twitch with worry. His jaw tensed as he sunk back into the chair, a hand coming over his mouth. When Wesley cast a glance his way, asking what a high risk rating even meant, he gave a measly shrug, trying to downplay any of the dread that dropped into his gut and the recognition in his eyes.

“This is just bullshit,” Louis finally decided to announce, shaking his head and speaking with a forced air of nonchalance. “Jefferson’s rambling. Doesn’t know what the fuck he’s on.” As he spoke, there was a haze of familiarity, a blanket of deja vu being draped over him. A memory came, too much of a blur to make out, and kept his tongue from saying anymore. Louis knew he had just spoken a lie.

Louis knew he’d see his name in this folder, but he’d had six months to reconcile with what he’d done and what had earned him that spot. This was a crude awakening for the rest of his classmates, and one he hadn’t expected to witness so soon. It was then that he lifted his gaze up to the rest of the class. Stasia was at the door despite better judgement, keeping watch out for a man who had broken her down to three lines of clinical language. Edith was inching forward, emotional support succulent in hand, and Louis wondered if it would do her any good to know that Jefferson considered her gentleness to be weakness. One way or another, the promise of Vochertepp secrets had risen even those who refused to fight against it. Even Alex, who earned another look of suspicion from Louis as he crept beside Stas. He opened his mouth to say something against that, thinking nothing good of the boy, when there was suddenly a rattling at his feet.

Louis’ found his eyes widening at the sight of Gian’s hands as she appeared beneath him. While his own darkness came and went like the pulling of tides, the moon never took her rotting away, that much was suddenly clear. There was a great number of kids at Vochertepp who wore gloves or covered skin to stave away adverse effects, but while Alex ungloved his own hands to do something despicable to a classmate, Gian unsheathed her own weapon to end any secrecy Jefferson had left, and Louis’ gaze was locked on her as her flesh colored glow came to life, a mixture of grotesque awe and disgust enrapturing his features. He hadn’t even decided yet how to approach the third and final drawer before she’d swooped right in and melted away its guts.

He bent on one knee beside her to watch the grand unveiling. Maybe Jefferson had left them a bomb, or a trap, or even a crown jewel. But as the underside of the desk melted away, only a measly slip of paper drifted to the ground. It was a familiar shade of pink. At the top of the slip, in Jefferson’s penmanship, was scrawled the words, “Your Name Here.”

“Motherfucker.” Louis whispered.

He didn’t have much more time to dwell beside Gian before a commotion brought him back to his feet. Edith spoke with a strength in her voice that Louis had almost never heard, and suddenly Stasia was at the desk too, except her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. Louis searched her face with his mouth slightly agape, struggling to understand what had rendered the strong willed girl to tears so quickly, before the only logical option presented itself in the form of an Alex with a bare hand by the door.

“Motherfucker!” This time, he growled it angrily in Alex’s direction, stepping around the desk and in front of Stas protectively. Louis didn’t near Alex yet, but with Edith on the other side and the rest of the class bunched around Jefferson’s desk, Alex was soon to be boxed in. Louis knew of the existence of kids who craved Vochertepp’s approval, kids who did whatever they were asked. Louis could see fear in Alex’s eyes, but just for a second, Louis wondered if it was really fear that had driven Alex, or if he was just a coward.

“What kind of sadist are you?!” Louis hissed. He didn’t know what Alex had shown Stas, but as someone with powers that turned people all sorts of twisted, Louis didn’t have to think too hard to conjure a scenario that would make her so emotional so quickly. “You’re in here just like the rest of us, and they’re using you, Mr. Shows Remorse. When are you gonna realize we’re all under their thumbs, no matter how much you lick their boots?” His voice was hot, high-pitched with tension. It was stunning to Louis how so many students loved to bend to Vochertepp’s will, and yet, were treated just as much like dog shit as he was, despite the fact that he’d done the exact opposite. “Put your glove back on.”

Louis had friends in this room, but they’d all been from a time before he’d done the very thing to truly earn him Vochertepp’s wrath. While some could make believe that the school was just a school, if there was any evidence of foul play, it would be Louis. No real school needed an impenetrable barrier, and no school should have carted a child back kicking and screaming and frothing the way they had him, like an escaped prisoner. In the moment that Louis reprimanded Alex, it was clear that he was speaking from grave experience. There had to be ways, of course, to understand their true goals, to find cracks in their system. Jefferson might have dealt them a hand, but he was nothing but a fish. Louis had cards of his own, but Vochertepp was the house. And the house always won.

He looked back at Stas momentarily, saying nothing, but trying to catch her gaze with a meaningful look. He asked silently if she was alright, before speaking again. This time, his voice was a bit calmer, as he looked back to the desk and the papers strewn about.

“Jefferson left us a nice little detention slip in the locked bottom drawer. Either this is a lesson plan, or he’s baiting us. He wouldn’t give us these notes without a reason, but maybe we can use it against them.” Louis put his hands on the desk, propping himself up as he tried to play connect the dots with all the info that they’d been given. His gaze was calculating, now fully clear of the fog, and anyone who gazed at him as he thought long and hard would soon remember that Louis was not just a student anymore. He was public enemy number one, and whatever school game everyone else was playing, he had long since moved past it.

“Well, welcome to the bad kids club, everyone.” He said with a grim smile. “Maybe we can stop fighting each other and figure out what the hell this place is up to,” A glance was thrown Alex’s way, intense but earnest, “And you can finally give up your delusions.”

Flutz Maverick. ravensunset stellamaris idiot

✃​

Numbers and names filled the classroom as Lyric’s voice boomed with a powerful intensity. She didn’t need to amplify her abilities to grab the attention of the students within it, because while the contents of the manilla envelope were confusing and coded, they didn’t need to understand it fully to know that they had witnessed a strange glimpse into the true intentions of Vochertepp. From tally numbers to extraction dates, Lyric held a piece of vital info in her hands. For some, it seemed to be too much. For others, a long awaited revelation, or a dent in the shimmering glass. For Tiffany, it was a rude awakening.

Her confusion was clear in the way that the ball of energy in her hands flickered and faded, her neon green glow fizzling out to return to glassy olive green eyes. There was nothing to indicate she’d had any idea what would be discovered in this letter, in fact, it had well surpassed her expectations. She’d envisioned it was more like a personal letter, maybe Lyet’s old husband sending her some retirement home pamphlets. She did not expect an itemized bill of students, and she did not expect her name to be on that list.

To distract herself from the pit of dread forming in her stomach, Tiffany found her attention drawn to others in the classroom, namely, the ones who couldn’t handle the revelation. Glowy girl was blubbering, not too surprising. Germ, who’d had a fire worth a fight back not two minutes ago was suddenly rushing for the door. She’d meant to keep her gaze trained on Del, and found that when she looked back, his cool complexion was fading away. First, Tiffany felt pleasure. That she’d finally knocked the statue off his pedestal and shown him what some real brawns looked like. But Del looked scared, in a truly fearful way, a fear she had seen only a few times in her short life. Her pleasure was short-lived, as he huffed out of the classroom minutes later. What a wimp.

So, Tiffany hadn’t managed to start much of a revolution, but she’d certainly brewed an upheaval. She barely had any time to process it all before a very enthusiastic face appeared in front of her. Beside the shock of red hair was a paper creature, like a parrot on her shoulder. As Clover thrust forth a first aid kit, Tiffany finally realized what all the fuss over her was about. Oh, yeah, my face is dripping off.

To say Tiffany had a high pain tolerance was an understatement, evident in the way she hardly flinched when ripping away her own lips. It was easy to push the pain away when the nurse down the hall could make it all better with a few waves of her hand, and while Tiffany didn’t really mind the idea of an easy out, after watching Germ and Del buckle and crumble, running away with their tails tucked between their legs, she didn’t want to leave. Tiffany’s brow scrunched in thought, head cocked slightly at the sight of the paper dragon on Clover’s shoulder. What a weird power. What a weird kid, too.

With a small huff, Tiffany shrugged, bringing her hand up to her face once more and coming away wet with blood. If she wasn’t going to run to the Nurse’s office or feign a panic attack like the last two, well, she supposed her best option was the bright eyed carrothead in front of her.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You can help.” Tiffany droned, waving a hand dismissively as she flopped back into her chair, which she first had to hook back from where it had landed a few feet behind her when she’d kicked it during her motivational speech. What a short lived moment. Whenever Tiffany looked up at Clover, she looked a little more captivated by the dragon on her shoulder than anything, the gears in her brain attempting to turn and understand how a paper manipulation power even worked. That wasn’t the only thing Tiffany seemed to be stewing on, however, as she glanced back at Lyric more than once, It was getting a little painful to talk at this point, but it didn’t seem to stop her, as she echoed the number next to her name, tasting the words on her tongue along with iron.

“Eight six two two… extraction date? Is this some sort of damn riddle?” If there were brains in this operation, Tiffany didn’t possess them. Until this day, she’d thought of Vochertepp as nothing more than a shitty school, one that kept her from her freedom and insisted on schoolwork above all else. Before Vochertepp, her attendance record had been nothing short of laughable, but the isolated boarding school had stripped her of any other hobbies aside from bullying littler students. Whatever dark forces were at work, she felt it was above her paygrade. And clearly, Mrs. Lyet’s too, because the woman could sleep through nothing short of a hurricane.

There was something to be said about a teacher who could sleep through such chaos in her own classroom, but for all intents and purposes, Mrs. Lyet did not seem to be faking. Bob’s attempt to rouse her was valiant, and certainly warranted after all that had occurred, but the light touch upon her shoulder seemed to rouse her for a moment. She twitched, stuttered, turned over in the chair, and her mouth opened to let out another great snore. If it was a health concern someone was after, she did look capable of breathing heavily and fully and had not yet choked on her own breath, though a diagnosis of narcolepsy might have been in order.

It seemed a light touch was not enough to wake the beast. There was a strange amount of calm that settled over the classroom, or perhaps it was more like still waters before a great storm. Tiffany slumped in her seat, allowing Clover to dote on her with a few grumbles and groans, Mrs. Lyet was still blind to all that had occurred in front of her, and any possible brawl between Germ, Del, and Tiffany had been snuffed out the instant they fled the classroom. Sylvie’s high pitched plea rang throughout the room, which earned a chuckle from the subdued bully in the back. But other than that, the classroom was left to stew on the questions that had been brought to light.

Why them? Why today? What was Vochertepp doing?

“Don’t panic everybody," Tiffany droned, swatting Clover away momentarily. "If Vochertepp is extracting kids or whatever, they’ll probably mind-wipe you before you can blink. So don't worry your glowy little heads," She sneered at Sylvie, "Because you won't remember anything when they toooorture you.” Tiffany rolled her eyes, and then looked to Clover. "Uh, I don't even know your name. Were you on the stupid list?"

nh1 calypso blue-jay listener erzulie mikaluvkitties

✃​

The halls of Vochertepp were eerily silent during class time. Exiting a class was like entering a cavern. Every step echoed against tall ceilings and glass cases with memorabilia lined the walls, surrounding those walking through with remnants of the past and present. Student achievements, sports accolades, alumni in the hero world. If it wasn’t decor in a glass case, however, the walls were bare; lined with wood and painted deep colors. The hallway was long, classrooms all the way down, and the bathrooms lay at the very end. It was a dwindling path to the end of the hall, one that would have given Germ just enough time to get close before Del caught onto her tail. Neither would make it to the bathroom before a figure turned the corner and met them there.

He would be recognizable in an instant, for many reasons. Perhaps it was the clatter of his dress shoes, slow and confident against the clean wood of Vochertepp’s halls. It could have been his uniform, pressed and ironed cleanly and meticulously, draped and fitted upon an almost impossibly tall figure, well over six feet. Maybe it was the strong jaw, aquiline nose, or the one singular gold hoop adorning his left ear, under a gelled swoop of thick black hair. These were all little details that made up the man known as Octavius Gretsch, and none of them were as imposing as the way he held himself higher than all, and the lack of any warmth in his dark eyes.

Octavius Gretsch had just recently turned twenty-one and taken over the title of head RA at the beginning of last year. While there were many students at Vochertepp who had reputations, none held as much power as Octavius. While he didn’t outright bully any students like one Tiffany Markham, he didn’t need to display any showy colors to strike fear into the student body. His pure white glow was enough to send fear through their hearts, and when he stole their powers for his own, they had nothing to fight back with. It was for this reason that Vochertepp held him on a high pedestal, and it was assumed that when he aged out of the TA program, he would vault straight into a teaching position.

Vochertepp served as something different for each of its inhabitants. For Louis, Vochertepp was the embodiment of a curse. A splotch on his soul manifested into a physical being, a brick-laid purgatory. For Tiffany, it was a prison. A place of banishment and captivity, but a place she could gain some semblance of control over by proving her own power. But for Octavius, Vochertepp was a playground and a power trip all wrapped in one. He was the biggest kid in the schoolyard and he roamed it like he owned it, which he damn near did. Not only was his power enough to support his intimidating stance, but Vochertepp doted on him like a prodigal son. He was everything they wanted; unwavering, unflinching, powerful yet contained, yet his true colors lay underneath a gleaming smile and a polished exterior, just like the old school walls. Though he enforced the law with an iron fist, if it was convenient, he found himself above it. And when above, everyone was beneath him.

For now, he often garnered both the respect and fear of the highest Vochertepp rule-abiders, and all the rest knew that the best course of action was not to be seen by his hungry vulture eyes.

He rounded the corner and stopped, eyebrow raising at the sight of the rush the two were in. “Ah, Delano, Germaine. Nice to see you.” Octavius’ voice was deep and smooth, and betrayed none of his intentions. It was always a certain level of calm until it wasn’t, and there was hardly any tell for when he would lunge. He looked them up and down, lips pursed, jaw tight, and cocked his head slightly. “I was sent to check on a classroom, but is something the matter? You two seem in quite a rush.” A thought occurred to him, a glimmer of inspiration crossing his eyes. “You do have hall passes, correct?”

To bring Octavius to a classroom where disorder was in bloom, whether it be a letter mishap or a drawer debacle, would be devastating for either party.

fin boo.

∴​

 

[erzulie]

mood

suspicious/worried

location

mrs.lyet’s class

outfit

vochertepp uniform

tags

interactions: n/a

lyric

”silence speaks and truth shrieks.”

No one seemed to want to read the letter, she was fine with that. She had just read everything out loud after all. Lyric could only stare at the paper, looking at her name amongst the group of other names. The numbers made no sense to her. She looked at the top of the paper once again, at the two sets of numbers. “What if…” She thought as she tried to piece things together. The numbers by their names, it could only mean that the two sets of numbers were students too. Students that had been replaced. Lyric had only been at Vochertepp for a year but she had taken the time to watch, to listen. She needed all the information that she could. There were no names by the numbers but she was sure that she’d notice if two students were missing. Not to mention, people would probably ask questions.

Lyric could hear the others around her loud and clear, speculating and worrying. So they had been paying attention, they noticed that their names were on the paper as well. A sense of dread washed over her, making her body tense. She was a coil ready to snap, concealed under a facade of neutrality. She needed more time to think, to try and put things together. Again, Lyric looked at the date. There were three days until whatever was gonna happen to them, would happen. She had been right to not let her guard down, she would be ready for them. In the back of her mind, tucked in a small corner was a part of her that feared otherwise.

Lyric took a breath. Like cool water she let the apathy wash over her. She could hear someone attempting to wake up Lyet and it was enough to move her. Despite how much she wanted to keep the letter she knew that she couldn’t. Instead Lyric gathered the contents of the folder and placed them back inside. She walked over to Lyet’s desk, neatly placing them upon the desk. Lyric then paused for a moment. With a tilt of her head she knocked it onto the floor along with the rest, making it seem as if they had been scattered amongst the other papers.

With her work done, she walked back over to her desk. Lyric’s own letter had been placed back within the envelope and thrown on the floor as well. She assumed her original position, the one that she’d had before the chaos had started. Kicking her legs up on the desk, Lyric crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.

She knew that Matt could quite easily tell on her. But Lyric wonder if he was willing to admit that he’d messed up. That he’d fail to meet the school’s standards. And Lyric had no solid proof of him taking his letter but, she hadn’t seen his name amongst the pile. If Lyric went down, they’d all go down.

​

​

​

nine lives

 

[Maverick.]

Wesley Campbell

tense — Mr. Jefferson's classroom — interactions: Louis/Stas/Gian/Alex/Edith

Wesley’s brain rolled around in his head as he stared at Mr. Jefferson’s desk, and he waited with his arms crossed as though some gear in his skull would start spinning and the drawer would unlock itself. In reality, his mind only wandered in circles, and its orbit was interrupted when Stas bumped into him.

Her stumbling only lasted for a moment, and before he could say anything, she was marching toward the door. She declared herself as a look-out, and Wesley gave her a thumbs-up. His wide eyes immediately narrowed when they switched from Stas to Alex, and his tongue pressed against his teeth as his jaw tightened. All Wesley had against Alex was suspicions, but he still didn't trust him. The other student didn’t leave anything up to debate as he turned to join Stas, and Wesely found himself swallowing whatever protests he’d been planning on expressing. They settled rather uncomfortably in his stomach, but he let them sit.

Gian was running her gloved fingers over the surface of the desk as though she were tracing some maze in the wood grains. Her dark eyes sparked like two pieces of coal catching a flame, and Wesley watched her with the same amount of wonder and surprise that he might’ve felt if he were witnessing a firecracker go off in a graveyard. He’d never noticed Gian wearing anything besides an aloof, unimpressed expression, and so seeing even a flicker of emotion come off her took him by surprise. When she removed her glove, his jaw dropped completely.

She lowered herself to her knees, and he followed her down. He kicked his feet out behind him and pressed his stomach to the floor as she touched her palm to the bottom of the drawer. It withered to her will, and Wesley felt a grin creep across his face as the rot began to eat away at the wood.

“Woah,” he whispered. He tilted his head and pressed his cheek to the floor to get a better view of the destruction, and he felt a laugh bubble up against his chest. “Fuck yeah. Take that Jefferson.”

When the piece of paper fell out, Wesley plucked it from the wreckage. He pulled himself up so that he was kneeling next to Gian and Louis, and as soon as he sat back to read it, he frowned. After a moment of complete stillness, the punchline finally slapped him in the face. Before he could stop himself, a bleat of laughter escaped him.

“Oh, man. We’re fucking dead,” he muttered. He shook his head and looked to Gian, offering only a shrug and a lopsided smile. Normally, he would’ve gone in for a fist-bump, but he was wise enough to refrain. Instead, he balanced the detention slip on her shoulder and gave her a light pat on the back. “Nice work, Gian. Guess that probably belongs to you now.”

Louis’ curse rang out like a siren, and Wesley shot to his feet. He was expecting to see Mr. Jefferson smashing through the door with an axe, but instead, Louis was facing Alex. Wesley’s eyes darted around the room as he struggled to put the pieces together to the scene unfolding before him. He searched Alex’s empty hand for a weapon, and he was horrified to find it completely bare.

“What the—?” he started, but his voice caught as he nearly stumbled while rounding the desk. Louis was still growling at Alex across the room, and Wesley moved forward to stand beside his friend.

He skidded to a stop when he saw Stas. Her eyes were red as though she had spent an entire night awake watching nightmares, and his own throat tightened at the sight. Edith was facing Alex as well, her back straight and her eyes alight. Wesley moved forward to stand by her side.

“Are you fucking insane?” Why—?” he snarled, but sharp words never fit properly in his mouth, and so he had trouble spitting them out at the student in front of him. Still, Alex had hurt his friend, and he had made her cry. Wesley’s fists seemed to buzz with energy as he clenched them, and the hair on his arms stood up as his fingernails dug into his palms. “You know what, Alex? You should probably just stay the fuck over there where you can’t touch anyone else. This is me asking nicely.”

Wesley turned away, and he put a hand on Edith’s shoulder before he returned to Mr. Jefferson’s desk. Had the current situation been less tense, the sight of Edith with her little potted plant would’ve brought a grin to his face. Instead, he met her eyes with a more serious look that he hoped might’ve conveyed a little reassurance. He had the urge to scoop her up and carry her away from Alex, but he knew very well that she could take care of herself. Still, he hoped that she knew that he had her back.

Louis was leaning over Jefferson’s desk, his sharp eyes trained on the folders before him as he tried to figure them out. Wesley had no idea where to begin, and he knew that they were running out of time. Things were far from fun and games at this point, which meant that he was out of his depth. He looked down at the papers, and the print seemed to blur. There was no way he was going to make sense of this. He couldn’t even solve a damn crossword puzzle.

“Well, we're in kind of deep now,” he murmered, and he tried to keep the sense of regret that was filling his stomach with dread from leaking into his voice. “Jeff wrote today’s date in red, which, like, I’m pretty sure we can agree means nothing good. If this is a fucking test, I mean— we got past the drawers, but I doubt we’re gonna get gold stars for it.”

He looked over at Stas again, and her strained face hit him like a punch in the gut. The full extent of his uselessness at this point became incredibly clear to him.

“Stas?” he asked, and he raised his hands to their traditional “thumbs-up” position as he looked at her so that they wouldn’t hang limply at his sides. “You good?”

Like it or not, they were all involved now. Wesley's hope for the "bad kids club" was far from bright, and if he couldn't solve whatever riddle was in those folders, he could at least focus on making sure that everyone was going to make it out of the classroom in one piece.


cablebelly Flutz ravensunset stellamaris idiot

 

[boo.]

scroll

spitfire.

germ.

mood

panicked & not feeling so good, mr. stark

outfit

vochertepp's uniform

location

hallway, just outside the bathroom

interactions

del & octavius

tags

fin cablebelly

Every step that Germ took down the hallway was much too loud. The hairs on her arms prickled as her flats hissed against the wood flooring in a pace that was obviously much too fast to be casual. Forcing herself to slow down, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and tried very hard to pretend that she was invisible. The halls were empty, completely abandoned, but Germ knew very well that any time you thought you were alone at Vochertepp, someone would appear. Usually someone you hated. She started walking a little faster again.

Fuck! Her feet tangled together, and she stumbled forward, putting her hand against the wall beside her to steady herself. Heart in her throat, she stared at the floor for a beat, then another, then slowly stood up and smoothed out her skirt.

It’s fine.

A slow breath whispered past her lips, and her face began to settle into its usual place. She closed her eyes for a moment, clearing away the colors of alarm that had been tinging her vision.

Now, walk.

Her pace was steady and purposeful now; she knew where she was going. She just didn’t know why. The bathrooms were at the end of the impossibly long hallway. All she had to do was get there, and then she’d figure things out. She always did. The open doorway was tantalizingly close—she was just about to step from out behind the corner—when she realized she could hear footsteps from the connecting hallway, and suddenly she was face-to-face with Octavius Gretsch. The TA was tall, much taller than her, dark-haired and sharp-faced. Except for the eyebrow that raised inquiringly, his features were stolid and unmoving, and his voice boomed with a timbre that made Germ take a step back. She hadn’t realized how close she’d been to him.

“Ah, Delano, Germaine. Nice to see you.”

Germ blinked. Del? She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, and although eleven years of Vochertepp had trained her to show nothing, she couldn’t stop the involuntary leap in her chest. This is bad. Really bad. She could hear him now, shifting behind her. Had he been chasing after her? Why? She folded her hands cleanly behind her back and looked up at Octavius with clear, dark eyes. Her mouth felt dry, like it was stuffed with cotton. Surely he hadn’t been sent to check on their classroom. No one had left, except herself and Del, since Matt entered, and the TA hadn’t had any way to call for help. Not that he would have, the coward.

Germ realized she was cornered. Octavius’s tall, broad frame blocked off any hope of escape. What excuse could she possibly give him that he’d believe? Her hands crept back around in front of her, and slowly began to clutch around her sides. The fluttering in her stomach was almost unbearable, as if she was—

Oh.

Germ dipped her head a little and pressed her lips into a wan line. She didn’t need to pretend to look uncomfortable.

“I—I don’t know what I ate this morning, but…”

Her shoulders buckled forward, as if pain stung through her stomach. Phantom aches were easy to forge.

“I don’t feel so good. Del was, mm, helping me to the bathroom, and we were gonna go to the nurse…”

She finally dared to look back, fixing Del with a look as wide as she dared. Her fingers curled into her sides like daggers, and her hair fell sideways over her tilted face, hiding her expression from Octavius. She couldn't say anything, didn’t dare mouth a word, but her eyes were more expressive than she’d ever made them before.

Help.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[listener]

clover leah | mrs. lyet's 2nd period class

To say she felt awkward was an understatement. With bated breath, Clover laid the first aid kit gently against Tiffany's desk, careful not to make any sudden movements lest she make the meta in front of her any more uncomfortable than she already was. Or perhaps that was a lie Clover told herself to soothe the subtle shake in her hands.

Tiffany Markham was rather... feral and at fifteen, Clover Leah didn't exactly have the skills to deal with someone such as that.

Digging through the first aid kit for what she was looking for, she glanced up curiously when Tiff spoke, and then caught her looking at the paper dragon that perched atop her shoulder. Clover hid a smile and without much thought, made the dragon puff up his chest and open his wings wide, showing off the little details that Clover was able to create.

Little talons dug into her shirt as she bent down slightly, excited to find exactly what she was looking for. She procured a water bottle and motioned for Tiff to lean forward so she wouldn't get water all over her uniform. With a hesitant motion to grab her chin, Clover glanced at the girl in front of her, asking without asking if it was okay to do so.

Tiffany answered without answering, their eyes locked together for only a moment before the latter rolled her eyes, glanced away and jutted her chin out. Clover took it gently, with barely any pressure as she directed the subtle movements. The water was room temperature, just warm enough to release the bits of ice still lingering.

Clover was impressed, perhaps even in awe at Tiffany's resolve. She barely moved, barely flinched as ice sloughed away her cheeks one last time and the water washed away the drying blood.

"Sorry," Clover said softly, hopefully soothingly, "It'll just be a moment longer and then I can put some aloe vera gel on it. When I got frostbite in fourth grade, that's what Nanny Price put on it."

“Tch, you would be a nanny kid.”

Clover flinched but didn't reply, confidence waning slightly, especially in regards to what she was about to do next.

She hesitated once more, though this time for an entirely different reason, and Clover's hands fell to the kit as she rifled through absentmindedly. Tiffany would see her face pinch in concentration, and if paying close enough attention to her paper dragon, would notice words start to form upon his chest in minuscule text from words Clover had written before.

I have something for you. Something you'll want. Meet me... after class?

And in an even tinier font, Hang ten, sis.

At the sight of words flitting across the folded paper wings of the origami dragon, Tiffany balked. She’d looked away entirely, barely registering the letters until her head was fully turned, only for her to whip right back to face Clover and the pet perched on her shoulder. Her eyes scrunched with concentration to digest the message, before she opened her mouth slowly, feeling the dryness and the taste of iron. “Okay weirdo… sure. Whatever.” Was Tiffany’s meager response, shrugging and looking away once more, clearly unnerved by the message and means of delivery.

Clover gulped and nodded her head, almost to herself, and readied a cotton pad with a heavy dose of aloe vera gel. It was over quicker than she expected it to and Clover, being Clover, gave Tiffany Markham a lopsided smile, sage green eyes still aglow as the paper dragon flapped it's great wings to momentarily perch atop her head before swooping down and taking the first aid kit back to it's spot on the far wall.

"It's not much but--but it should hold you over until Nurse Tufton can fix you up..."

She backed away a bit and in a squeak of a voice, addressed the class as a whole. "What do you think... What do you think all those dates and numbers mean? I doubt they're throwing me a birthday party on the 27th... uh heh...."

written wit cablebelly | @ errybody in lyet's classroom

 

[calypso]

mirabelle.

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  extremely woried.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  school uniform.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  hallway
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  fin boo.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Well, that had gone somewhat worse than expected. The moment she finished talking, Mirabelle could feel the harsh gaze of Tiffany burning a hole into the back of her head. It was a good thing that she was facing away from her, as it turns out. In seconds, a thumping sound rang out, followed by the shattering of ice. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had just happened, though Mirabelle refused to turn around and confirm what she suspected. Nothing good could possibly come from slamming your ice-covered lips into a table. A shudder quickly ran through her body, but she was quick to suppress anymore as she stood between Del and Lyric. Although Del didn't say anything to her, she couldn't help but shy away from the expression that had crossed his features.

When it came to the power level at this school, Mirabelle was certainly at the bottom of it. Without any means to control her ability and limited range, she was stuck silently pleasing others majority of the time. Although it wasn't in her plans to anger students either, it was times like these she wished for something more. Both Lyric and Del would destroy her in a fight, if they even felt she was worth the time. By the way Tiffany was gazing at her, she knew the wild-eyed girl felt the same. The insult that left Tiffany's lips moments later confirmed her suspicions. Mirabelle was nothing but a joke to them, she knew that much.

Slowly turning her head back to Lyric, she could only tilt her head to express support. It seemed like Del wasn't going to freeze any of them at the moment, so it was best to get this done and over with. Maybe it was completely useless information, like her tax refund or something. (Unless she committed tax fraud, which would be only slightly more intriguing.) Yet as Lyric began to read out the contents of the letter, a frown overtook Mirabelle's perfectly glossed lips. Though her name wasn't on the list of students, both Del and Lyric's were. Tiffany was also on the list, which confused poor Mirabelle even more. In what category could Tiffany and Del possibly be ranked together? Those two were the exact opposite of one another. Mirabelle turned her head once more back to retreating Del to gauge his reaction. Certainly he would know what it meant, right?

Wrong, apparently. The moment Mirabelle looked over to Del again, the glow seemed to be gone from his eyes. In-fact, he was wearing an expression she had never seen on the icy perfectionist. Her lips deepened their frown, and her eyebrows furrowed together. What the hell was going on?

She didn't have much time to ponder over the situation before another student moved past and promptly left the classroom. Although she didn't exactly have any friends yet, Mirabelle had come to memorize the names and faces of the students in her classroom. With each one carrying a deadly weapon at their fingertips, it was best to know who was who. Squinting under her glasses as Germ hurried from the room, it didn't take long for Del to follow after her. It made enough sense in her head that he'd go after her. Even if Del scared her quite a bit when it came to his serious nature, he didn't seem like a bad person. At least, that's what she wanted to believe. Everyone had a little good in them, right?

Whatever the case was, it was becoming clear there was nothing left here for Mirabelle. The contents of the letter had been revealed, and each student was left to deal with their own personal feelings on it. The thought alone made her brows furrow together even more. She wasn't on that list, but she couldn't yet gauge if that was good or bad. It certainly seemed to be the better option at the moment, but a small pit in her stomach had already opened up. Her eyes shifted over the students as they began to move among each other once again, before she promptly turned on her heels and slipped from the classroom. Part of her wanted to check on Germ incase Del failed at being supportive, which wouldn't surprise her too much, and the other part of her wanted to ask Del what he could possibly know. Or at least, what he thought of the whole matter. Hopefully he didn't hold the whole small threat thing against her...hopefully.

As her heels clicked down the hall, Mirabelle tried to steady her own beating heart. Away from the heat of it all, Mirabelle found herself finally able to process what the hell had just happened in the classroom, and just how terrified she had been. Tiffany was someone on entire different plane of existence from her. She used her powers freely, without fear of consequence. Del was the complete opposite, but the sheer control he had over his abilities made her nearly pass out as she stood in front of him. It's not Lyric couldn't handle it herself, she was far stronger than Mirabelle too. All of them just seemed like...Gods. Untouchable beings above her.

Raising her gaze from the ground, the clicking of her heels suddenly stopped. Standing a few feet away was both Del and Germ, though a new player had entered the area. Tall and with his back to her, Mirabelle could only take a guess at who he was. Though she had never met Octavius before this very moment, any and everybody she spoke to warned of the RA. If she had thought Tiffany was dangerous, Octavius was deadly. Bad enough for every student to straighten their backs at the mere mention of him, she didn't exactly want to imagine what was about to go down.

Shifting her eyes past Octavius, it was Germ who had Mirabelle instantly worried. She was panicked, scared. It's not like Mirabelle enjoyed assuming those things about people, but she looked far too familiar to how she herself did whenever she looked in a mirror.

She was like a panicked rabbit, and Octavius was a prowling wolf who had just found himself a good dinner.

Without even thinking, Mirabelle's feet began to move on their own. Her hand, though shaking, reached up quickly to grab the frame of her glasses.

Don't do it, walk away. It's not your business, everyone just needs to fend for themselves-

Even as she tried to convince herself that, it was far too late. The glasses slipped away from her face, revealing the bright pink irises that were hidden under them. Shaped like a heart, they were constantly emitting a soft glow. A constant sign that Mirabelle lacked the control that others had. Still, something had to be done.

Without saying a word to Del or Germ, the pink hair girl slid between them and Octavius. She was careful to keep her face turned away from her classmates, and for good reason. The last thing she needed was them asking about her damn eyes and whatever the hell that was about to go down.

Looking up slowly, she locked eyes with Octavius and offered a weak smile.

"I'm really sorry, they left without hall passes since Germ felt really sick. I was sent out to bring them back to our TA, so he could issue a proper hall pass to the nurses office instead of just having them run around," she said, hoping her voice sounded confident enough. He didn't need to buy the lie, he just needed to keep eye-contact with her for a few more seconds.

Then he'd believe her, and whatever else she wanted to say.

Hopefully she didn't just dig them a deeper hole.

cry for love

백현

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ravensunset]

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  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  curious, energized, somewhat nervous.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  the school uniform, just like everyone.

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  Mr. Jefferson's classroom.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  cablebelly @subtle thrill Flutz Maverick. stellamaris idiot
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

edith.

Just as soon as Edith had spoken, Stas was released from the hold Alex had placed so briefly on her and turned to face him. A moment passed as a look was shared between them, as Stas spoke and turned, heading over to where the others were at Mr. Jefferson’s desk. Louis and Wes had noticed that something had happened as well, and Edith turned at Louis’ exclamation.

Edith was almost relieved, in a way. Alex deserved the words, the yelling, and she didn’t think she’d be able to provide it. Wes joined in, standing next to Edith, the three of them momentarily a wall blocking Alex in. Edith met Wes’ eyes when he looked at her, her lips moving into the slightest upturn and giving a nod in gratitude. With Wesley’s words, his intensity, the anger she rarely ever saw out of her friend, Edith knew she was lucky to be on his side.

Wesley’s hand was on her shoulder, and she just briefly lifted one of hers to tap it before following the motion through, turning away from Alex before he quite had the time to say anything about the multiple reprimands he’d received. It was a touch too late to help with whatever Stas had gone through, and Edith was certain the reaction was more than enough to ensure he wouldn’t try anything else.

Finding her way to Mr. Jefferson’s now thoroughly searched through desk, Edith’s eyes landed on the papers that had been earlier brought to attention. She set down the small plant she’d been carrying on the desk, instead going over to the folders, joining in to look through it. The high risk students-- not something the quiet girl would qualify for, of course, yet with it Edith understood what Louis had called bullshit, and the anger that had come over him. She followed through until she got to the last folder, the one that had seemed to stir everyone who’d so far come to look.

All their names, their files. But, well, they were just notes, right? Of course records of them were being kept, they were students, naturally their teachers would take note of them? High risk students, then notes on everyone, of course the school for kids with powers kept notes on the powers? The thoughts were just as much to reassure herself than any genuine belief, especially as Edith’s eyes made her way to her own name.

Gentle demeanor shows possible stunting of power growth. Possible potential for further expansion.

Edith’s hand reached out as the words sank into her, moving within reach of the succulent she’d just saved as though for reassurance. Well, yeah. She knew she didn’t have quite the drive of the stronger kids, was quieter and in some ways more benign. And yet. Edith had the power to

fix plants

, and to some extent communicate with them, no matter how much Vochertepp made her wish she could do more. She knew how much the school wanted her to be different, and yet the girl couldn’t imagine how being less gentle would help grow the gift that seemed to only work the way it did due to that demeanor. Her lips pressed into a small frown as she thought it over, before giving a small shake of her head to take it out of her mind.

The final drawer, it had seemed, didn’t have any more information or classified files. It seemed that Gian had managed to find a way to release the contents inside, a single detention note. Edith glanced over at Gian, and then driven by a sort of curiosity, leaned down by the wood the other girl had just manipulated.

She reached out to the clumps of rotted wood underneath the desk, and as she made contact with it, a shudder ran through her body. Her fingers traced the contour of the hole now underneath Mr. Jefferson’s desk. The wood, of course, was long dead either way, long cut down and twisted into the unnatural shape of a desk. The rot, at least, was a release from that. And yet, Edith’s glow wanted it nowhere near her. It knew it could not fix it, could not mend the long dead yet recently destroyed cells.

Edith moved the wood clumps solidly under the desk, out of sight unless you were looking specifically for them then drew her hands back, pushing herself up and picking the succulent back up off the desk. She looked over again at Gian, and an odd feeling burst inside her chest. She’d just spoken, albeit unheard, to the girl a little ago, so it was odd to be nervous to reach out, but Edith was almost certain that’s what it was, an odd mix of hesitation and wanting to speak to her.

“He’s right,”

The words almost stumbled over before making it out of Edith, who’d looked up to make eye contact with Gian, eyes still holding the sun's glow, as she echoed the sentiment spoken by Wesley,

“That was a really smart move, good job getting it open. Sorry you only got a detention slip,”

she finished with a small smile. Whatever reaction the rot had caused in her, Gian really had done well, acted quickly, and the more reasonable part of Edith found it admirable. And, well, a detention note was certainly not nothing, something at this point that Edith would almost not mind receiving alongside her friends, but it was undeniably odd that the last drawer contained only that.

Looking between the other kids standing near the desk, Edith nodded along to Louis and Wes’ words. A lesson plan, bait, some kind of test.

“If he was expecting us to find the pink slip, and why leave it there if not, he was expecting everything in the unlocked drawers to be found too,”

Edith allowed her voice to raise just slightly to join the conversation,

“He could’ve locked all the drawers, but he didn’t. Some of the words are redacted, that has to be for us, the part he didn’t want us to know. Today’s date could mean whatever Mr. Jefferson was called away for, but he didn’t seem to expect it,”

Edith’s words faded off as her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Speculation had never been quite her strong suit, and well, there was a lot to think through with everything they’d found. Her succulent looked up at her, enjoying being held yet offering no aid to their investigation. Considering the second underlined date, this was bigger than just Jefferson's class, and Edith wished she could figure out a way to find out just what had called Mr. Jefferson away to give them the chance to find all this.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[stellamaris]

stas.

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  jefferson's classroom
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
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  cablebelly Flutz Maverick. idiot ravensunset
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

Stas? You good?

The commotion around her seemed to melt away as she stared down at the detention slip. The fruit of all their efforts. It would've been laughable if the images of Louis' and Wes' lifeless bodies weren't still fresh in her mind. Even as Alex had faced the wrath of her closest friends, she found herself staring down at the papers they'd discovered, intent on her decision to not let his manipulations get to her. In a way though, she couldn't deny that they would probably be punished for this. To what extent, she wasn't sure, and that was enough for her to doubt. If her friends got hurt because of her–

Wes' voice brought her back to reality.

She met his gaze with confusion at first, unsure of what he was asking her until she glanced down at his hand in the thumbs up position. With one last wipe of her wrist across her cheek, she nodded and forced a thin smile. It was too late to go back now.

Edith's observations were a welcome distraction from her thoughts, and Stas leaned forward next to Louis to examine the papers once more, trying to find some kind of connection. She was right. Jefferson had locked the door to keep them inside but hadn't gone through the effort of locking all the drawers. Not to mention he probably would've kept papers he wouldn't want them to see in his office. He was cruel and hot-headed, but he wasn't stupid. Stas' eyes flitted over the various paragraphs and then went back to the calendar, today's date, and how he'd moved up this specific lesson plan.

"She's right, he planned this. I don't think it's a coincidence that he moved up a lesson plan to be on the same day as whatever this is."

she pointed at today's date on the calendar, completely scribbled out in red ink. She hadn't known Jefferson to be a fearful man, but the way he looked when his name was called over the intercom...

Eyebrows furrowing together, she continued going over the pages without even glancing in Alex's direction.

"There has to be a reason why he thought today's lesson plan was important. Maybe this is the plan, like you said."

she shrugged and looked up at Louis, before hurriedly picking up the detentions folder. They had to have missed something. Could it be that Jefferson was actually trying to help them? After today, it wouldn't be the craziest assumption to make.

Frustration was seeping in as she reread the same paragraphs over and over before dropping the folder down onto the desk and walking around to the front of it, beginning to pace back and forth. He could be back any second now and she highly doubted Alex was going to actually keep watch, like she'd asked him to. Whatever they needed to figure out, they'd have to do it quick.

Stas abruptly stopped pacing.

Wait–

Out of all the students in the room, Louis and Wes were the only ones in the 'high risk' category, and they were also issued the most detentions. They also happened to be the only people Alex had shown her in his 'vision.' She turned to the boys in question, noting the 'reward' for unlocking the drawer was a detention slip. There was some kind of significance to the detentions. That was the only explanation.

"Do you guys think there's a connection to the detention slips? Wes–"

she paused to pick up the detentions folder before handing it to him, encouraging him to go back over it.

"You and Louis get the most detentions out of everyone in this class, and you're both 'high risk,' whatever that means."

she spoke quickly, determined to figure this out if it meant proving Alex wrong. For the first time that day she turned and spoke to Gian,

"If he wanted us to go through his desk only for you to get a detention slip, there has to be a reason behind it."

Stas paused and her expression faltered for a moment to something more vulnerable, voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

"Do you think Jefferson could actually be protecting us? He said it would never be enough, us sticking up for each other. I-I know it's crazy, but, I mean, just think about it."

freaks

surf curse

♡coded by uxie♡