Setting: September 1, 2014 ((I know, I know.... I totally lost this solo and had to rewrite it)) Word Count: 538
Quote:
The ground rumbled under the scuffed and worn boots of a young girl. Her large oversized leather coat fluttered in the breeze as the train in the distance began it's slow and arduous journey northward. The young girl didn't even bother to watch as the graffiti covered steel dragon rumbled along its way, it likely wasn't the one she hitched a ride on anyway. Trains were the fastest way she found to travel but they were almost as dangerous as hitchhiking, between getting on the train to remaining undetected to getting off the train before being caught, she was pretty good at avoiding people. She dusted off her patched and ragged jeans and straightened her gray sweatshirt, the sessions were turning and the oversized cheap clothing kept her warm in the northern cities until she was able to make her way further south. She wished she could go back to LA but there was a group or two in the city who would love to get their hands on her… screwing with a drug deal tended to do that. The large case tossed over her shoulder slipped down her arm but she caught it before it came close to the ground. The guitar in the scruffy case was the way she made most of her money, she took better care of it then she did her own body. She resettled the case and bent down to grab the bag by her feet when she heard someone give a shout.
"HEY You! Kid! Ya arnt suppose ta be here" a chubby man in a cheap security guard outfit yelled out from further down the tracks. The girl looked over at him and hitched her guitar case higher on her back, scooped up the bag, and took off running.
She could hear the guard swear as he chased after her, his keys jingling with each labored step. With her case on her back and her bag in her hand she couldn't run as fast as she would have normally but unlike being in a brand new city the young girl knew exactly where the chain link fence was cut. The train depot just outside of destiny city was familiar to her since she normally used it as a pausing point before heading even further south during the winter. She knew this time that she would have to wait a few weeks before heading on her way, long enough for the guards to get lazy again.
She only glanced back once when she heard the guard take a face plant into the grass after griping over an overgrown track. The smile was brief and humorless as she raced the last few yards to the fence and slipped through the large hole. It would still be a decent walk to where she wanted to go for the night but she was use to it. Just shy of her 15th birthday the young girl knew more about the streets of the city then most of the lifelong residents, or at least life on the streets of a normal city because the young girl didn't know that she would soon be recruited into one fight that will change the course of her life forever.
Posted: Fri Apr 29, 2016 8:50 am
Nightmare or Memory?
Setting: Around April 11, 2015 ((I know, I know.... I totally lost this solo and had to rewrite it several times)) Word Count: 504
TW: violence
Quote:
Dessie fell asleep to the sound of crickets as the spring night deepened, a breeze tugged at her curtains as it drifted in the open window. She sank into sleep and straight into a nightmare.
She was little again back in the trailer once more. She kept her head buried under the pillows as she heard her parents in the other room. Her mother was crying as her father was yelling. He was doing something to her mother, something that hurt, likely hitting her since he did that alot. She hummed softly to herself as Dessie tried to fall asleep and getting lost in dreams. She was about to drop off when an exceptionally loud cry that cut off abruptly seeped through her consciousness. That did not bode well for little Dessie.
Dessie sat up and surveyed her tiny room. It was more like a closet with a small bed and trunk full of her stuff. Her door was closed and blocked, it was the only way she could sleep. She eyed the flimsy wood and jumped when a fist struck it making it rattle. "GIRL!" Her father bellowed as he struck the door once more. "Open this door!"
As the knob turned and a bulky shoulder was shoved against the plywood, slowly forcing the door open. Dessie spun around and dived for the tiny window that sat high on the wall, she was fighting the rusty lock when a large hand grabbed her by her ankle and pulled her away. "Where ya think ya going girl?"
Dessie woke with a gasp in her bedroom at the Jacobs. Her breathing was labored and sweat chilled her skin. She slowly climbed from the queen sized bed and made her way over to the balcony doors. She threw them open and stepped out onto the terrace. Moonlight bathed the grounds, gilding the spring flowers as the cool breeze dried her clammy skin. Her ragtag t-shirt and shorts were in direct contrast to the luxury all around her, but it helped keep Dessie grounded in reality. She was no Orphan Annie who met Daddy Warbucks, she was Desdemona Christianson. Daughter of a drunk and a doormat. She didn't belong there but anything was better than returning to that small trailer with her drunkard of a dad after her mom died.
The night she had just relived had ended up with Dessie receiving a broken arm and a black eye. Her whole body had become basically a canvas of bruises but little Dessie knew, just as adult Dessie knew, that if her mother hadn't taken the brunt of her father's rage that night she never would have lived to see the next day. The damage was only as great as it was because she was tried to fight back, she tried to get away.... If she hadn't her old man would have hit her a few times then had passed out rather than keep hitting on her over and over until she had lost consciousness.
Fiction1119
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Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 9:15 am
Swimming in Darkness
Setting:December 2014 -Before the last solo-((I totally lost this solo and no this isn't the last one I've lost))
Word Count: 685
Snow was thick on the ground outside and the month of December hadn't really started yet. Her life had changed so much in just the last few months. If a simple twist of fate hadn't led her down this path she would be either napping on the beaches in Florida right now or frozen, huddled under rags trying to keep warm in an abandoned building that was part of every major city, Destiny City being one of them. Instead she was in a warm room, with warm clothes, and warm food. While the situation still made her uncomfortable every so often, she was slowly coming to like this place. She paced in front of her windows, contemplating escaping out into the night via the balcony windows but the weather prediction was a blizzard before the night was out, and no matter how restless she was Dessie wasn't stupid.
She stopped and glanced at the gathering clouds as darkness fell. There would be more snow, make no mistake about it. Dessie briefly debated raiding the kitchen, the ability to eat when ever she was hungry was still rather odd for her, but she nixed the idea because food wouldn't help her anxiety that was slowly building. She needed activity, movement, a fight, anything really.
Back and forth she prowled the room only slowing as she neared the balcony doors, the urge to open them and escape into the darkness pulling at her. The urge getting stronger and stronger with each pass until during one pass she spotted white flakes drifting across the glass. It fell steadily, muffling the darkness in a sheet of white. For longer then she realized Dessie stood watching the snow fall. Her mind blank and her anxiety fading away in the mesmerizing motion of the swirling, dancing flakes.
It wasn't until the cold had seeped deep into her bones and she began to shiver did she pull away from the doors. As she passed the bed she scooped up a blanket and wrapped it around her thin frame and returned to pacing, the golden colored blanket fluttering out around her calves like a cape or long jacket. Each brush of the cloth against the back of her legs reminded her of the trapped feeling she had started pacing for. Finally she stopped in front of the closet and opened the doors to the meager collection of her clothes, both old and new stood out in the empty space of the rather large closet. Dessie still felt a sense of wonder when she was able to step into the closet, close the doors, stretch out her arms, and still no be able to touch any sides. The closet was nearly bigger than her tiny room in the cramped trailer she grew up in, and it sure as hell was better decorated.
Shaking her head to mentally pull her thoughts from the past she started to dig in a pile of folded, and untouched clothing, looking for a particular outfit. Something she hadn't even thought about when she saw it in the pile to begin with but as her antsiness got worse Dessie figured it was the best way to burn off the excess energy. Finally, near the bottom of the pile, Dessie pulled out the scrap of fabric. The bathing suit revealed a lot more than the teen felt happy with but since she never thought she would ever wear it she never did anything about it.
As the blanket puddled around her feet and she quickly changed into the bathing suit Dessie made a silent promise to get a new one as soon as possible. She would have to wait until the snow stopped and would have to scout out a good spot to busk for some money but she would eventually make enough to get something that was more her style. One that showed less of the visible marks from her past. A towel replaced the blanket and before long Dessie was quietly doing laps in the darkened pool house. The warm water a contrast to the snow still falling outside.
Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2016 4:35 pm
Shadows of the Past
Setting: January 2016 ((yeah yeah I'm super late again XD))
Word Count: 691
It felt strange to be back in the city after spending so much time away. Not bad strange, just strange. Dessie felt oddly content as she strolled down the crowded sidewalk in the heart of Destiny City, it was hard to believe that she had remained in it this long. Over a year had passed since she hopped off the train and became a member of the shadowy war against chaos. So much had changed. She had changed.
Dessie smiled briefly as she detoured around couple arm in arm. She still couldn't stand being touched but seeing others public displays of affection didn't make her sneer in disgust. The smile faded to a glare as she executed a sharp twist to prevent from being run into by some guy texting. “Watch where you're going!” She muttered as she ducked into an empty alleyway. That was the one main issue with the city; people everywhere. And most of them weren't even watching where they were going. She still had to curb her desire to strike out whenever someone even brushed up against her which made navigating crowded streets rather tricky. Nothing she hadn’t done before but after the vacation where it wasn’t terribly necessary it took her a bit longer to get use to it. To hold back as someone casually brushes past. The large coat that she hid in helped since it insulated her from others. They would touch the coat not her and that, thought not a lot, was enough, besides people tend to frown on a fist fight in the middle of a crowded sidewalk.
A ragged cough from deeper in the alley had Dessie start in surprise, she had been mesmerized by the passage of the people and had forgotten to focus on her surroundings. With a huff of annoyance Dessie turned her back on the sidewalk and headed into the alleyway proper, this one should cut through to another block where she could continue her travels. She didn’t even waver or pause as she stepped over trash and worse, she only slowed as she passed a dumpster and saw a box covered in a tarp. Coughing came from within the makeshift shelter and Dessie didn’t hesitate to fish out a few bucks and slip it in a crack of the cardboard. The guy obviously needed it more than she did right then and she hoped he used it for something like blankets but knew he would likely drink it. Such was the life of the homeless. So many were looking for escape… by any means necessary.
The young blond shook her head sadly as she finished traversing the route she had taken. So much had changed and yet so little. Right before she stepped back into the flow of pedestrians on the other side of the alley she looked back; maybe to check on the money, maybe to see where she had left, maybe to wonder where she could have been. So many things she could have seen but what she did see made her blood run cold. A tall man stood by the dumpster, a dark shabby coat hung off his broad shoulders. She couldn’t make out the man’s coloring but she had her suspicions… her fears. Blond hair and blue eyes; the same eyes she saw every time she looked in a mirror.
“No,” She whispered as she took a fearful step backwards where she was immediately run over by a fast moving tourist. She slapped away the helping hands and growled when the lady tried to apologize. She was more concerned with the figure in the alley who she had lost sight of in her tumble. The blond regained her feet and scrambled for the alley entrance, searching for the figure but he was gone. Maybe he wasn’t ever there, just a figment of her imagination, a nightmare. Nothing to worry about. No one to fight. Not real. He couldn’t be real.
Dessie turned away, shrugged deeper into her jacket, and did her best to disappear into the crowd all the while unable to shake the chill that had settled into her very bones.
Fiction1119
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Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 6:29 am
Studying
Setting: Backlogged to past spring in 2016
Word Count: 532
Homework was the bane of every school aged child, especially on a glorious spring day when the end of the school year was in sight. This was as true for Dessie as it was for the other half dozen kids sitting in the cafe chatting and studying and working on papers as they sipped overpriced coffee and nibbled on expensive pastries. The only difference between them and the young blond was she knew just how important those textbooks they casually used as coasters were. She knew just how precious an education was so while the twits in the corner gossiped about boys and the gamer a table over killed orcs, or whatever, twaddled away their time Dessie was diligently plugging away. Her books were spread out across the entire table, her notebook covered in scrawling notes, pens and pencils used as various bookmarks while a highlighter was tucked behind her ear. It didn’t matter to her that the sky was a gorgeous, cloudless, robins egg blue. That it was warm but not hot, cool but not cold, it was that perfect sweet spot that made one glad to be outside. She didn’t care that the flowers were in bloom and the trees were filling out with vibrant green foliage that hid the songs of birds while squirrels scampered about. It was just another day, another season, to her. She had work to do and even though she had caught up to her current grade, after being out of school for so long, Dessie felt like she had something to prove. She needed to get good grades to at least prove to herself that deserved the respect and care from her family.
She needed to prove that she wasn’t her old man… or her mother. She wouldn’t be a person who would just scrape by in school or justs drop out. She was going to graduate. She was going to go to college and do something meaningful. She had liked school when she was little. Learning new things, experiencing new things, seeing new things. At Least she did until she realized the looks she got whenever the bruises were visible, when her father got mad when he saw her studying, when she realized that her mother… her precious mother… couldn’t read. As a child getting an education was equal to thinking she was better then her parents. Little Dessie didn’t give a damn what her father thought but her mom, her mom, she didn’t want to ever feel like she was stupid so the young child took to hiding her schoolwork. She hid her books and her papers, she flat out refused to do projects. She just scraped by. By the time she left her teachers likely wouldn’t be surprised if she dropped out, at least that is what Dessie told herself when she had hightailed it out of that backwater town. She was better off alone.
But now, sitting here with schoolwork scattered around her, she was determined to prove her past self wrong. She would succeed where the frightened child she had been, had not. She would bury her past until it no longer existed, until it couldn’t hurt her anymore.
Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 6:32 am
The Postcard
Setting: Backlogged to shortly after previous solo
Word Count: 585
TW: Mental Trauma
The postcard was battered and worn, its edges softened and even torn on a corner. It had seen better days but the image… the image is what drew one’s attention. A simple picture really, one of a field of yellow flowers stretching to the horizon with a soft blue sky, clouds just barely visible. Not a soul in sight, nothing but the plants. Simple, empty, and for Dessie peaceful. Within this field there wasn’t anyone to bother her, no one around to hit her or yell at her, no smell of sweat and blood, no oppressive feeling of danger. It was peaceful and it had been tapped to her wall in her childhood home, the remnants of the tape were still marring the surface of the postcard.
The appearance of the card sent a shiver down Dessie’s spine. It had been slipped between the pages of her textbook when she hadn’t been looking. He had been here. He had been within touching distance. He had seen her and she hadn’t. She had no clue he had even shown back up until she had turned the page to find the battered postcard. It meant that the feeling of being watched the past few months weren’t her imagination. The nightmares that had returned had been rekindled by something real not a boogie man lurking in the shadows.
With shaking hands she turned the card over and promptly dropped it like it had burned her. Scrawling, jagged letters stared up at her from the worn tabletop of the coffee shop table. ‘Hey Baby girl. Looking good. You’re really growing into your beauty just like your mama. See you soon. Love Dad.’ There was no stamp or post mark and when she had tapped the card to her wall when she was five it had been blank that meant he had deliberately used one of personal objects and delivered it by hand. He knew where she was. He knew how to get to her. She wouldn’t be able to get away from him.
Dessie jerked slightly, her mind yanked from the black quagmire the postcard had tossed it into, when the bell over the coffee shop door jangled letting in the cool, and a touch wet, spring air into the shop. She stared blankly out the large plate glass windows at the bustling metropolis that was Destiny City. It still felt as if her heart was trying to dig its way out of her chest with an icicle but that was fading as anger was starting to take its place. How dare he! How dare he show up here. How dare he use something that had been a solace for her as a child. He fouled the very air he breathed in and she sure as s**t wouldn’t let him affect her now.
With a growl of anger she deliberately and methodically shredded the postcard into itty bitty colorful confetti that she dumped into her cold, nearly empty, cup of coffee. He likely got some sap to slip the damn thing into her book weeks ago, he wouldn’t surface for something as childish as this. He wouldn’t. He would have just gotten someone else to do it. At heart, her father was a lazy man. Why do something when he could get someone else to do it? Dessie deliberately ignored the foul implications if her supposition was wrong instead she gathered her things, tossed the soggy mess, and hurried home. Home. A place even he wouldn’t go.
Fiction1119
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Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 6:37 am
Momento
Setting: Backlogged to summer 2016
Word Count: 648
TW: Mental Trauma
Summer was the best time to busk. When the weather cooperated, in a good spot, a good musician or entertainer could make some decent cash. Dessie didn't do it for the money anymore, at least not totally. She did it for the enjoyment. She liked the way her music could entrance passerby, she had to suppress smiles at the kids who would dance impromptu to the guitar music, she liked how she was both anonymous and the focus of so many. It made her feel closer to her Mom. Her mother had loved to play, the sound of her guitar winding through the trees as twilight descended. It was one of the only happy memories Dessie had of her childhood.
So even though the money wasn't needed anymore the young blond still went out busking. This particular day she had set out her case in a small park in a bustling shopping part of the city. It was a warm and sunny Saturday with a cooling breeze to take away the edge away of the heat. There were droves of people out, most shopping but there were a few others out panhandling. One drawing caricatures, another dancing, there was even a statue performer but there wasn't a musician, at least not yet. That meant her crowd was likely to be decent, she would be able to pocket a pretty nice chunk of change. Money she could give to others who needed it more. Money she could spend on her new family, using what she had made not what they gave her.
She settled in, comfortable in her ratty jacket and hat, hiding behind her guitar while her case was open in front. She took a bit to warm up and tune her instrument before she jumped right into her first song. Going from bluegrass to modern and back again. When someone requested a song she knew she would drift into the tune, rarely breaking the stream of music. She wouldn't acknowledge the claps of appreciation or the money tossed in her case. Instead she kept her head down and kept right on playing.
It took less time than it would have in the past for her to tire. It wasn't stamina or anything like that but it was her body itself that was unhappy over her position. Since she no longer played day after day, hour after hour, she had gotten fallen out of the habit of sitting still so long. The cement under her and the brick against her back were cold and hard, her legs asleep from inactivity. Besides she had more than enough in her case so she wrapped up, the small crowd dissipating even as she went to dump the contents of her case into her bag. Something had her pause though. Had her pulse beat rapidly and made the ground swirl a bit beneath her.
It didn't look like much, just a small piece of yellow plastic. Battered and chipped the guitar pick wasn't anything special but Dessie recognized it. She knew every scrape and divot on that yellow plastic. It had been her mother's. With a hand that shook slightly she reached out for the pick stopping inches away as the meaning of its appearance hit her like a runaway truck. He was here. He had been in the crowd listening to her play. He could still be here. Her gaze raked through the crowded streets, straining to see… or not see… a figment of her nightmares. She had thought he was gone. After a few furtive sightings, more like imaginings, after the new year Dessie had stopped seeing him. She had hoped he was gone, or not been real in the first place. But this. This small piece of plastic he wasn't gone, that he wasn't just a shadow she was jumping at. He was back. Her father had found her.
Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2017 3:50 pm
Starting Anew
Setting: Backlogged to the beginning of February, this month
Word Count: 719
She needed to go and there was no time like the present. The weather was holding at unseasonably warm though there appeared to be a storm that would be rolling in, good. It would throw any followers off her track. She timed her escape carefully, skipping out of school at the start of lunch and with her next class being study hall no one would miss her for a while. With everyone at work or doing their daily things she was able to slip away. Her ‘go’ bag was already in the car along with her guitar and she had already left her letter for the Jacobs behind.
It wasn't a written letter, rather it was a comic she had been working on for a while. She started it as a journal of sorts, a drawn, somewhat exaggeration, of her life on the streets, of her meeting the Jacobs and learning to care for them. She kept it fully civilian, not wanting to risk there even being a hint of senshi magic about her adopted family. It was one thing to run headlong into danger herself, it was completely different to bring it down on the heads of others who didn’t deserve it. The comic progressed further though. She started to allude to her father’s stalking. It was a way to put her fears and worries down on paper, to assure herself that she wasn’t crazy. When it finally became clear to her that she could not stay, Dessie knew how she had to end this comic… and that she would have to leave it behind.
It hurt to leave. It hurt more then she wanted to admit. More than it ever had before. That's why Dessie left the comic sitting on her desk, next to a framed photo of everyone. She also left a small note with the address of the bus station she was going to leave the car at. She was taking so much with her but very little of it was material, just a few pieces of older clothes, her jacket, and a small picture, the same picture sitting on her desk just wallet sized. If she hadn’t grown out of her old things, and they hadn’t been used as rags, Dessie wouldn’t even be taking the clothes. They had given her so much, even taking the duffle bag of stuff made her conscious twinge. It was best to make a full and clean break.
The muffled sound of a overhead announcement had Dessie jump slightly. She had gotten so lost in her thoughts she was still sitting in the bus depot parking lot. With a mental shake the young lady quickly and surely gathered her stuff, locking her phone and credit card in the glove compartment, hid the keys under the front seat, and promptly locked and closed the door of the sensible car. It wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t hideously expensive, but it was the safest model on the market… and it had been her birthday present when she turned 16 even though she flatly refused it.
It had been a true battle of wills, one she lost, when it came to this simple gray four door sedan. Dessie rested her hand against the hood of the car, a sad smile flashing across her lips as she remembered the battle of wills when it came to the car. She never wanted one but Xander, he was like a wall. An immovable wall who insisted she have a car. With a small laugh, more of a sigh, she turned and headed into the building. Using the money she had saved busking, Dessie would no more use the Jacobs money then she would pay in blood, she bought a one way ticket on the first bus heading out of town.
She wanted to run but she wasn’t stupid. Leaving town like this, it left a trail. She wanted to disappear… leave no trace… so that's what she did. Her ticket was given away as she melted into the crowds. With her bag slung over her shoulder and her guitar by her side Dessie faded into the shadows of the city. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need family. She didn’t want family. It was time to start anew. Somewhere different. Somewhere far, far away.
Fiction1119
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Posted: Tue Feb 28, 2017 3:53 pm
The Beginning and The End
Setting: Backlogged to the beginning of February, this month This is a continuation of the previous solo
Word Count: 1614
TW: Mental and Physical Trauma
She huddled under the oversized coat, hiding in the shadows of the transient camp she took refuge in after leaving the bus stop and wandering for a while. She wasn’t planning on staying beyond the night, or really a few hours. The next train that she had the best odds of catching would come through early in the morning. Until then she was here, hiding in plain sight, among others like her who were the invisibles of society. Even when people saw them they weren't truly seen. It was the best place for someone trying to disappear. She kept to the darkness, her clothes were used but they were still a bit to clean for the typical homeless bum crashing here in this old building, so when a older lady shuffled over and settled against the wall Dessie sank a bit deeper in her coat, her hand gripping her guitar case ready to run if there was a need.
As the silence stretched out she relaxed slightly only to tense when the old woman spoke. “He is looking for you.”
“What?” Dessie choked out. There were several ‘he’s that could be looking for her but in truth there is only one that made dread settle in her bones. When the lady didn't respond the younger woman fished an apple out of her bag, holding it up. She knew how things work. No one gave anything for nothing.
“He has your eyes. Calls himself your father.” That chill was back. Dessie had hoped for more time before he tracked her down but apparently luck wasn't with her. Tossing the apple at the lady the younger girl gathered her things and started to make her way out of the camp when something had her looking back.
Standing there surrounded by homeless lit by sporadic fires stood the hulking figure of her father. And he was looking right at her. She didn't even hesitate, she started to run… and run fast and far. She was fast but unlike her, her father didn’t care about anything and was just rushing straight for her shoving people and things out of the way like a train barreling through snow. She was doing her best to dodge everything, loosing time as she went. Finally she broke free of the camp and speed up, disappearing into the night followed by a bear of a man with the same cold blue eyes and blond hair. She didn’t even have time to curse at her luck as she raced around corners and through allies, she could hear him behind her. He was falling further and further behind. She would make it. She would escape his clutches and the hell with waiting for a train, she would get a damn plane ticket and was getting the ******** out of there as fast-
Her sketchy plans came to a crashing halt as she turned one final corner to find herself boxed in. Out of the million and one alleys in the city, Dessie had to find one that had a dead end. She tried the doors she could see. Locked. The chain link fence that blocked off the alley went too high to climb, there was no going over, under, or through. Her only option was to turn around which she started to do only to find her escape blocked. He had caught up. It didn’t even look like he was winded while it felt like her heart was going a mile a minute as she gasped in air.
“Heeeeeey, baby girl. Where you going?” He stalked towards her even as she instinctively backed up. “I just want to talk. A little father, daughter talk.” She shivered, every word felt like ice down her back. There was no doubt in her mind that he just wanted to ‘talk’. Dessie tripped over a can and careened into the fence, the jangle of metal harsh in the night silence. “Careful, baby girl. Don’t want you to get hurt now do we.” He was too close! She couldn’t get around him! She had too.
Tossing her guitar case at his head, Dessie used the distraction to dodge around him, trying to reach the relative safety of the city streets only to be brought up short when she was slammed into the brick wall, her head hitting with a crack. “Now that's not nice, baby girl.” He pinned her to the wall, his giant hand wrapped around her neck even as he got up in her face. Blue eyes flashed at blue eyes even as she clawed at his hand. “Go. To. Hell.” She gasped out even as he tightened his grip, cutting off her air.
“Tisk, tisk dear. Is that any way to treat your father?” He grinned at her, a dark look haunting his still handsome face. “I’ll have to remind you of your manners.” With that he drove his fist into her gut, taking pleasure at her gasp of pain. “Oh, I am sorry. Did that hurt?” His teeth were bright and menacing as he punched her again. “Thats a real shame. I’ll just have to - s**t!” His threats were cut off suddenly when she kicked him hard in the balls, letting her go in surprise.
Dessie scrambled to get away, fire lighting up her scalp when her father’s hand wrapped itself in her hair, bringing her escape up short. The next few blows he delivered left her on the ground curled up in a ball to keep any serious damage being done. He ranted as he hit her, raved as he kicked at her over and over. Her entire body hurt so much that it took a bit for her to realize that he had stopped beating her. She could hear him doing something, digging through something. She cracked her eyes, wiping away the blood that trickled from a cut on her brow, only to see him digging through her stuff in the dim alley light, his back towards her. Now was her chance. Biting her lip to hold back a sob of pain the young woman quietly climbed to her feet only to stop when her father turned towards her holding the small photo of her family. “I can’t believe you actually left them. A nice looking bunch you conned your way into here, baby girl. I’ll have to find some time to meet them.”
Even as she stood there, blood on her face, a livid bruise forming on her throat, pain radiating through her entire frame, anger bubbled up in her with every word out of his mouth. Burning away the icy fear she had felt ever since she had first felt eyes on her over a year ago. He had deliberately drove her from her home. From the only people she had ever came to care for. He had deliberately made her second guess her safety and that of those around her. He had beat her and after months of mental torture he was continuing it. Her anger came to a head when he made comments that implied that he was going to ‘visit’ Lily and Rose. Going into graphic details about what he wanted to do with the two beautiful redheads, implying that Dessie knew what it was like since she had been bed hopping herself with her ‘dad’ and the other males in the picture. He flat out said that they wouldn’t be a problem any more, insinuating that he would ‘take care of them’. He would destroy everything and everyone she had come to love, just like he had with her mother. She wasn’t aware that her hands had slipped into her jacket pockets where she gripped her henshin pen. As the human pile of crap in front of her continued to talk it was like she blacked out, she had no memory of pulling out the pen and calling on the magic that made her a senshi. She didn’t feel the bite of the cold on her scantily clad body. She didn’t even realize that her father had fallen silent in surprise. All she saw was a haze of red as screamed in rage and anger.
She raced towards him, tackling him to the ground before he could react to her change. Even as he struggled against her furious blows, getting in several of his own, she pummeled him. She beat at him as a baker beats dough. Every fiber of her being so focused on exercising the hatred that lived in her she wasn’t really aware when he stopped fighting back. She just kept striking out, over and over again.
“STOP!” A voice cut through the darkness, startling her and bringing her to a standstill. Her head rose, her blond hair matted with blood and dirt, the blood mostly hers but not all, to squint in the faded light. Her vision was blurry, a eye swelling shut as blood tried to block the other, her face a mess of bruising, blood, and dirt but even with fading sight she recognized the form standing in the watery light. Unable to look right at Shang, ashamed to have run away, she glanced away only to see the bloody mess of her father at her feet. Her hands were covered in blood, a lot of her uniform as well. She had done this. She had beaten him like he had her. She really was her father’s daughter. With a sobbing cry Antares stumbled away only to collapse against the fence, her battered body unable to take her any further. “Did I…” She swallowed tears that threatened to choke her. “Did I kill him?”
Posted: Wed May 23, 2018 6:12 pm
Ghostly Apparition
Quote:
Foggy Gem - A gem, half the size of your palm or smaller, and capable of appearing in many colors or shapes. A strange mist seems to swirl inside of it. It can be found discarded on Homeworlds, Wonders, Mirrorspace, and the Dark Kingdom. To use this item, you must press it over your heart. The fog will crystallize into a golden lightning shape mark within the gem. Once it has crystallized, the you will find yourself in a dream like haze, facing an ancestor of their bloodline. This person can either have been powered or unpowered, and can be an ancestor from this life or a past life. Any ancestor can appear, though their starseed must be currently in the Cauldron. The ancestor will appear for a short, personal conversation. No canon information or anything about the war or the Cauldron may be discussed. After ten minutes have passed, the haze will lift and you will feel as though you have just awakened from a dream. Once used, the gem may be kept as a memento.
Setting: Backlogged to Late December/Early Jan Word Count: 1534
The holidays was stressful for many people, mostly because of all the work and worry that went into the weeks leading up to and after Christmas but for Desdemona Christianson this was not the case. For her it was the holidays themselves. The boserious company. The crowds. Honestly, the down right cheerfulness of the whole thing. It was grating on her nerves and if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to go crazy!
The Jacobs had taken their annual family trip to England to stay with Xander’s folks out in the countryside, Dessie of course went with them, and at first everything went fine. She had done this trip several time before and even liked her ‘grandparents’ so that wasn't a issue. In truth Dessie didn’t know why she was feeling antsy and restless. Maybe it was the holidays, or maybe the rapidly approaching college deadlines, or the crappy weather that kept all pretty much confined to the manor, or maybe a combination all three and then some she didn’t even realize. Overall it didn’t really matter if she knew why she felt the way she did, only that she did. The itch to run and keep running was there as the hours ticked by second by second to the point where she took to pacing about the house like some caged animal, her eyes trained on the wintery weather battering the windows.
Finally the weather seemed to abait, the sun peaked out from the clouds and although it was cold the weather was no longer able to hold her back. It only took her a few minutes to dress properly, it was still winter after all and she wasn’t about to risk life and limb by running out into the freezing weather unprepared, and then she was out the door like a shot. At first she just ran. She ran and she ran until the cold air burned her lungs and her legs ached. Even if her body called for a rest her mind refused too, she wasn’t ready to go back inside with everyone. She wasn’t ready to face the questions and wonder in their eyes, even if they never voiced their thoughts Dessie knew they would be there. The worry, the fear, the questions, the sadness. So she slowed her pace, rather then running like the dogs from hell were chasing after her she ambled over the snow covered ground until she reached the tree. The tree Lily had shown her back during her first trip. The tree Lily liked to think at, spend time at, just be at. Still within site of the house but far enough away to be able to forget about those waiting behind the stone walls. Out here she was alone. All alone. No one to question her, or bother her, or feel sorry for her. Alone, just how she liked it. Just the way it was meant to be. The way it always has been… the way it should be… Right?
Shaking off the doubts that were creeping up on her the young blond quickly scaled the leafless tree, finding a perfect branch to rest on where she could stare out over the empty expanse of land in front of her and ignore the house and the people waiting for her behind her. Icy blue eyes stared out over the snowy landscape, watching everything but not really seeing anything, while her hand worried a small foggy blue gem. A gem that she had accidently taken from her homeworld just a short time ago. She had gone there, dragging Chaldene with her, in a fit of anxiety. Patrolling hadn’t helped her work through her feelings so she escaped the city the easy way, through her homeworld. Chaldene had done his best to alleviate her worries but it was hard to fix what you really didn’t understand. No one really understood. Shifting more into the tree, slowly getting more comfortable, Dessie absently worried at the stone even as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the tree trunk. She didn’t see the fog within the gem crystallize into a golden lightning shape mark nor did she realize that magic was putting her into a trance like haze.
“Sweetheart.”
“Mom?” Dessie questioned uncertainty as she stared at the figure walking towards her. The petite woman gliding across the snow looked like her mother, golden curls and summer blue eyes. She even wore her favorite dress, a pale blue summer dress with tiny white daisies on it’s hem. But it was impossible because Sarah had died years before, when Dessie had only been twelve. “Momma?” She hesitantly took a step forward, not even realizing that she too was on the ground, standing even with her mother.
“Yes sweetheart.” The woman smiled softly. “Shhhhh, don’t cry.” The older woman reached out and brushed the tears off of Dessie’s cheeks.
Dessie hadn’t even realized that she had started to cry, the tears falling silently as she stared in shock at her mother. “But how? Your...you're…”
“Dead?” The ghost chuckled and nodded, “Yes sweetheart. I’m dead. I don’t quite understand it myself but I know we don’t have long.” The smile that Sarah had been wearing faded as she dragged her daughter into her arms, not flinching when the younger blonde started to sob, her hands fisting into the cloth of her dress. “Shhhhh,” She shushed her and patted her back, humming an old lullaby, one Dessie veugly remembered from her childhood. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m in a better place now.”
After a few more moments of tears the ghost spoke once more, “Come now. Stop your tears. We don’t have time for them right now.” Her tone was soft but firm, even as she kept her child cradled against her. “I need to talk to you.”
Taking a deep breath Dessie gathered herself, locking the tears down deep once more, and focusing on her mother. “What's wrong?” Without pulling away the younger woman glanced up at her mother, questions swirling through her.
“Nothing sweetheart. Absolutely nothing but you need to know how proud I am of you. How happy I am for you.” Sarah couldn’t meet her daughter’s gaze as she continued. “I wasn’t the best of mothers, shush you,” She cut off to stop the denial that was on Dessie’s lips, “I couldn’t protect you from that man.” There was no doubt who ‘that man’ was, Dessie’s father. “I left you behind and there was nothing I could do. But you still turned out so great.” The ghost brushed a lock of hair from Dessie’s face, tenderness in the gesture.
“That family up there, they love you.” A tip of the head indicated the house in the distance, the house that contained the Jacob’s family. “They are yours to protect and care for as they protect and care for you. Love them sweetheart. Love them with your whole heart. Let that b*****d disappear from your thoughts, he was no more your daddy then a rat in the garbage. I'm glad he's dead. You’ve got a fine poppa now. A fine poppa, wonderful aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, even a brother. It doesn’t matter if they are blood. They are your family. Love them with everything you got.”
“But momma everything I love gets taken from me.” Tears started to fall once more.
“Oh darling! I’ll always be here,” Sarah gently tapped her daughter’s chest right over her heart before tapping her temple, “and here. I will always love you. I have to go now but I’ll still be watching.”
“No momma! Don’t go!” The ghost started to fade, ripping a cry from Dessie’s very soul as she watched her mother slowly disappear.
“Sweetheart… remember, be happy. Be loved. You deserve that and so much more.” And just like that Sarah was gone just as mysteriously as she had appeared, the snow as undisturbed as it had been before the visitation.
Dessie gulped heavily and swiped at the tears that was ruining her vision only to realize she was still sitting in the tree. The snow covered ground beneath her was empty, ghostly or otherwise, the only tracks the ones she made earlier. A chilly wind cut through her jacket, freezing her tear stained cheeks, and rattling the leafless branches. She was still outside, perched in a tree. The house of people were still behind her, waiting for her return. The sun was still up and it was still winter but for a moment there it was as if time itself had stopped as she was visited by her ghostly mother. Like some messed up Christmas Carol or something.
What in the ******** had just happened?
The young woman was tempted to brush it all off as some kind of stress induced hallucination or day dream but it had felt so real. The warmth of her arms. The smell of her perfume. Everything. Even down to the little scar on the edge of her mouth had been so very real. Had she really just been visited by the ghost of her mother? That wasn’t possible.
Was it?
Fiction1119
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Fiction1119
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Posted: Sun Aug 26, 2018 5:10 am
Trust
Setting: Current Word Count: 1044
Antares stood in the shadowed halls of the stone palace of her planet, the cool stone a sharp contrast to the blistering heat that scoured the sands just yards away. Light blue eyes absently stared out at the sunlit courtyard even as her fingers drifted over the painted walls. She had escaped to this place, this desolate and empty place, to think. Antares had woken in the middle of a night because of a nightmare, that wasn’t anything new but rather than seeking comfort in swimming laps or even going patrolling she chose to escape to her planet. To Nbwniwt actually. It still baffled her some when things just came to her, like the city name or the knowledge that the palace kitchens were but she was use to it by now. This empty place had become her sanctuary. Her hideaway. A place to avoid real life. To just be.
With life changing so rapidly around her she needed the break, she needed the peace and quiet. She couldn’t swim or even patrolling that night because the thought of running into him while swimming or anyone else really while patrolling was nauseating. One might ask who exactly is him to which she would say, ‘a b*****d’ but even Antares knew that wasn’t true. Donovan was a person who loved Xander, or at least appeared to love Xander. He moved in like he owned the place and that rubbed her raw in annoyance. But she couldn’t lie to herself, not here, not about this.
Xander loved him. Xander was the one who asked him to move and. Xander was happy.
That was all that mattered really.
No matter how much Antares hated Donovan.
With a frustrated sigh the palely dressed senshi started to stalk down the dim stone halls, her heels echoing with each step. She didn’t really hate Donovan, disliked him maybe but not really hated him, and in this spot such a lie was just wrong. With care she slipped into the one spot she loved beyond all others in this sprawling complex of stone buildings, the chapel. Or at least she always saw it as a chapel, it just had that vibe. Here in this space she could think, or not, as she wished. But she needed to do so in truth, that was the rule she set herself as she cleaned the building those many months ago.
Now with the sound of trickling water, in the colorful light, and resting on one of the only remaining carved benches Antares studied her feelings. Tried to understand them. What exactly about Donovan did she dislike? The fact he left Xander high and dry without a word? That had been quite a while ago. He had apologized and was even doing everything he could to show that he was sorry about that, every single day. He explained why he had done so and it was for a valid reason. Xander had forgiven him, why couldn’t Antares? Was it because she saw what her own actions had done to Xander and the others when she ran away? She saw how much it hurt them?
Yes but no, not really, mainly because Xander had chased her down. Her little disappearing act had caused him heartache, there was no doubt about it, but because she told him that she was leaving he didn’t have the ‘unknown’ hanging over him. It also allowed him to hunt her down…. And ground her. From what she understood of human psyche, the school library was rather informative, Xander had a path of action when it came to her little stunt. There had been nothing he could do with Donovan’s magic act. No recourse. No Closure. So if it wasn’t really that then what?
Was it because Donovan appeared to be replacing her in the household? It had been a thought that popped into her head briefly when she and he faced down a little bit ago but as Antares sat there in the cool interior of her homeworld’s chapel she didn’t think that was quite true either. First and foremost, Donovan was sleeping with Xander. His position in the family was a very different one than hers. She might not be happy that a stranger, relatively unknown, had waltzed in and enamored himself with Xander but he didn’t really usurp her position in the house. She knew logically that Xander still cared for her, that she was still his ‘daughter’. His reaction to her legally changing her name was quite a large indication to that. So why? What made her dislike Donovan so much?
Did she just not trust him?
Was that it? Was that all that it was?
Antares sat there in silence, contemplating the ball of emotions Donovan presented to her. It wasn’t something she did easily or very often. She would rather just shove the little ball of hate deep and icy it over with indifference but Antares was trying to be better. She was trying to be a more open person, at least somewhat.
Bah, she was going to have to actually talk to Donovan. If Xander trusted him, loved him, she couldn’t very well continue to ignore him. No matter how much she wanted.
It nearly hurt to admit it but there wasn’t much else she could do. If she continued to ignore him, b***h at him, or lash out at him in any way it would hurt Xander. Hurting Xander was the last thing she wanted to do. She would rather cut herself then hurt the large redhead who adopted her. The whole Jacob’s family really. She would rather die then hurt any one of them. So if it meant dealing with Donovan then she would deal with him.
For the first time since she agreed to go to college Antares was glad it would be starting soon. Once she spent most of her days on the campus she would have a good excuse to avoid Donovan. Trust wasn’t handed over just because one asked, it was built over time and if the time it took for her to trust Xander and the Jacobs as any indication, Donovan would be waiting a hell of a long time.
Posted: Fri May 31, 2019 4:15 pm
Streetrat
Setting: Earlish May, about a week before finals Word Count: 600
Dessie sighed and pushed the textbook away when she found that she had read the same page for the third time and still didn’t understand what it was trying to say. “For ******** sake, they twist the words more than a lawyer,” The young blonde muttered caustically as she stretched. Even after working out all the kinks from sitting for such a long time Dessie just didn’t want to go back to studying, but a glance over at the calendar proved just how close she was to the end of the school year and just how rapidly finals were approaching. She was running out of time, for a lot of things not just for studying.
With a mental curse the college freshman, it still felt odd to her when she thought of it, pushed away from her desk and stalked over to her french doors and slipped out to the veranda that stretched across the back of the Jacob’s house. It would be simple to just race out into the darkness. Easy to power up and fight for justice… Ha! Even mentally Dessie couldn’t help but laugh at that. She was under no illusions. She was no hero. She just couldn’t stand sitting on the sidelines while those who need protecting got abused and killed. Not when she had the power to step in and put a stop to it.
But she couldn’t do any of that on that particular moment. Not because she physically couldn’t go out to patrol the city, there was nothing stopping her from doing that other then herself. Dessie didn’t want to let down Xander. She had made him a promise when he went to England to take care of his mother that she would stay out of trouble. Well, to do her best to stay out of trouble. That also included keeping up with her classes and her training. The training wasn’t all that hard to do it was the school work she detested. Even after balancing the ‘easy’ freshman classes with her art classes Dessie found herself sometimes floundering. The classes themselves weren’t all that hard, there were some points where she struggled but overall she was able to work her way through any problems, honestly it was everything else that sometimes left Dessie feeling like she was out of her depth. Even after all this time she still just felt like a fake. A actor who was just pretending to be a normal, average person and not a backwoods, street kid that she was really.
After a few more moments of brooding over the feeling that liked to sneak up on her Dessie gave herself a shake. She didn’t have time to psychoanalyze herself, she had finals to study for and papers to write. And she needed to pack since she was going to England as soon as her last class was done for the semester. Xander didn’t need her, not physically, but she wanted to be there to help him if he did. Besides someone needed to give him something else to think about besides his mom and who better then Dessie! A soft smile flashed across her face as she pictured the look Xander would give her if, or more like when, she got into a little tussle over there on British soil. She never did it on purpose but it always seemed to happen, boys were stupid no matter which side of the ‘pond’ they were on. The redhead wouldn’t be happy but it would be a distraction, just maybe not a welcome one.
That's what Lily was for.
Fiction1119
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Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2022 5:03 pm
How to Write a Letter
Setting: Current, give or take a day or two Word Count: 554
She needed some time alone. Some time to process. The last few days had been… unreal. It was finally sinking in, the ultrasound in her pocket really hammered it home. Hearing the heartbeat and having the doctor point out the little human growing in her was just… an eye opener. It was real. The at-home tests were right. She was going to have a baby.
She was going to have a baby. A child. A kid. One night of ‘youthful indiscretion’. A night of, honestly quite a few, firsts. Neither making any promises or whispering dreams. They both knew the score. One night to see what could have been before they both left for the opposite sides of the planet. She returned to the states the next day after and he went to his dream job in Japan a week later. They had been out celebrating their college graduations, his job offer, her returning to her family, their friendship. Who knew that him confessing his crush on her that night would lead to her pregnant.
Dessie was going to have to tell him. Truthfully she didn’t really want to because she didn’t want to make him choose between the child or his dream. But Xander made several points that all boiled down to ‘you should let him make his own choice’ and he couldn’t do that without knowing first. So how was she going to let him know?
Calling or texting wasn’t going to work since he would have had to get another phone that worked over there. She didn’t really do social media outside of her commission work, and as far as she knew he wasn’t following her on anything. That left snail mail, she didn’t have his email address, forwarded from his parents house in the UK. She had never had to send a letter in the mail before, let alone one so important as this one. How did one even write something like this out?
‘So remember that night in April? Surprise! I'm pregnant!’ Dessie absently shook her head at just the thought of such a letter. Honestly it was tempting to just make it short and to the point, something like, ‘I’m pregnant. I’m keeping it. I don’t hold you responsible.’ But that sounded so cold and hostile, what they had was anything but cold and he didn’t deserve anything like that. They had been friends for a while, practically all through college. He deserved better. He had been a staunch friend and ally to the American girl in a British college. Yeah Dessie had graduated from a UK highschool but so many still just saw her as the Yank. She personally didn’t care how others saw her, she had grown up with such looks and whispers but it had still been a surprise when he told their classmates off for her. The quiet one cussed them all out. It had been glorious, and the start of a grand adventure. And it had ended learning one more new thing about each other.
Sure they had said ‘I’ll text you’ and ‘I’ll see you next time’, both knowing that it was nothing more than lip service. They knew the score. And now she needed to actually talk to him. She had to.
The question is…. What should she say?
Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2023 3:00 pm
Fantastically ‘True’ Fairytales
Setting: Current Word Count: 884
She needed to talk to Nate. He needed to actually go back to his place, he couldn’t keep sleeping on her couch, haunting her apartment and driving her nuts with his very presence. However, Dessie had to be accurate even in her own mind, he had been seriously helpful. He was a well needed extra pair of hands when it came to caring for Sarah Alyssa, his skill in the kitchen way outstripped her own which was pretty much limited to reheating stuff, and he helped her keep the place from looking like a real dump. She still had a cleaning crew coming in but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like a real pig, Nate really helped with that as well. He did all of this without any real rewards or thanks, along with working his own job and dealing with his own things. He was helpful but he needed to go. She needed to sit him down and tell him all of this, well most of it, so she made her way towards the nursery where she could hear his voice coming from.
Dessie paused in the nursery’s doorway, the sight of Nate talking to their daughter, rocking her in the rocking chair while telling her some kind of story. He was focused on the newborn and rather than interrupt their bonding time she stepped out of view, around the doorsill, and leaned against the wall absently listening to his tale about a warrior princess and a scholarly artest. The fantasy duo fought dragons and trolls, they crafted magical weapons and statues, and it was all fantastically ‘true’. It had only taken her listening in for a few short tales for Dessie to realize that he was telling Sarah Alyssa stories about their time in college. About the times they were together. Tales from a lifetime ago, at least that's how it felt to her. The time she got several drunk frat boys tossed from a pub or the day that Nate won a local art contest. They had lots of little ‘adventures’ that he was now spinning into wild tales and yet Dessie just listened; reminiscing.
“And then one day, the day they knew was coming, they would have to part. Her for her kingdom and he for his art.” His voice carried a tinge of sadness. “That final night the artist approached his princess and called upon the boon he had won years back.” Now that drew a shake of the head from Dessie because she never did owe him squat but she didn't interrupt. “The artist asked for a kiss, as that was the greatest treasure in the wide world for him, one that he had held on to in the depths of his heart for all this time. To his surprise the princess granted his dearest wish.” That was a new revelation to Dessie. She had just assumed, when he stuttered out his confession of liking her that final night, that he was just trying to shake the crush he had recently developed. Not that he had feelings for her for much, much longer than that.
That single kiss was more of a surprise for her then it was for him because, much to Dessie’s shock at the time, she had enjoyed it. It was that shock, and growing curiosity, that had led to a much more eventful night for them both. Had it just been an uneventful kiss they would not be where they were right then. She would not be listening in on him spinning tall tales to a baby that carried his dark hair and darker skin but her pale blue eyes. “And so the warrior princess and scholarly artist parted ways. The artist spent many a long day feeling as if his very heart was gone while the princess went through her own trials. It wasn’t until fate brought them together once more that the artist knew that this was where he belonged, next to his princess.” Dessie might have tuned him out somewhat but the cadence and volume of his story had her focusing once more, it had her glancing over towards the door and seeing him stand there with their daughter in his arms and a grin on his face. Sarah Alyssa was sound asleep. “How long,” Dessie asked, not specifying if she ment how long did he know she was there or how long the babe had been sleeping.
“For a little bit.” His grin made her frown at him even more. She wasn’t willing to let his amusement affect her.
“Smartass,” Dessie made a face at him and sighed. “Go ahead and put her down. We’ve got to talk, Nate… or should I call you Mr. Artist?” He of course just chuckled and went to do as she asked. They both knew that this conversation was a long time coming. Dessie made her way towards the kitchen because she didn’t want to even have the possibility of waking the baby, she knew Nate would follow. There they could talk, they could figure out this whole co-parenting thing out, without fear of being too loud. There was a lot to get squared away with and the sooner they set some ground rules the better as far as she was concerned.
Fiction1119
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Fiction1119
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Posted: Sat Jul 22, 2023 11:40 am
The Fallacy of Hubris
Setting: A few hours after the end of this RP Word Count: 592
She sat there in the hospital room absently listening to the beeping of the machines informing her that Nate was still alive and contemplated what had led her to that particular moment. Nate lay there, pale except for the rapidly blooming bruises, oblivious to the world. He was just asleep, medically assisted of course, but she knew it could have been worse. She knew he could have been dead.
Dessie had been informed he had been viciously mugged but the robbery had been interrupted before any further damage could be done, or before his belongings could be stolen. That of course was so much bullshit and she knew it, not that she was going to say it. He had been out with some coworkers, it had been Father’s day so she didn’t suggest they train or anything else a bit more productive. Besides, she had been secretly glad that he was settling into Destiny City, making friends and having a life outside of herself and their daughter.
Look where that had gotten her! Sitting at the bedside of her grievously injured… friend. Broken collarbone, broken hand, broken ribs, and punctured lung. Sedated for his own comfort, bound, bandaged, casted, and currently dripping fluid from his lungs. Logically she knew it could have been worse. It could have been so, so much worse. Even his current injuries could have been worse. Bones shattered rather than just broken. Lung damaged more than just punctured.
If that ‘robbery’ hadn’t been interrupted he would have been dead. His body lying there without his soul, just passing its few remaining minutes until it couldn’t sustain itself any more, barring medical intervention. She knew he had encountered an agent of chaos and that he could have died. She was aware of this.
And yet that did not make her feel any better.
Why wasn’t she with him? Why couldn’t she protect him? Why hadn’t she trained him more? Longer hours, harder training, more pushing! Everything!
Anything!
He was in this god forsaken city because of her! The least she could do was protect him! And she couldn’t even do that!
She couldn’t even do that.
It had been Ida who had saved him. Ida who had protected him… Ida. His princess.
Dessie honestly didn’t like the feelings that were boiling up in her. Rage mixed with guilt, tossed with grief, and flavored with jealousy. Logically she knew that he had been saved by the very best person, that it had been sheer luck that he had even been saved at all. It didn’t mean that there wasn’t a small, dark part of her heart that wished it had been her that had saved him and that wasn’t fair to Ida or Nate, which added even more guilt into the mix.
“God Nate,” She muttered into her hands, before scrubbing her face with her palms, choosing to ignore the dampness that she wiped away. She hadn’t been crying… regardless of what it would have looked like from an outside perspective. “If you don’t pull through this I’m going to have to kill you,” Dessie sniffed and gently reached out to take his uninjured hand, extra careful of the various medical devices he was hooked up to. “I’ll just march my way down to hell and drag you back. Don’t test me on this ok?” She had to stop as her voice started to crack.
“Please,” the young woman uttered, tired and more than a little broken. Not even sure herself what, or who, she was pleading to.
