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 Posted: Thu Jul 07, 2016 10:02 am
Baba's Not a Madman
Word Count: 2031 Words
Pietro is four when his mother dies; complications during childbirth. Neither his mother or infant sibling survive. He doesn’t understand his father’s grief, too green around the ears and little body too full of awe and hope to understand grief. His father doesn’t know how to explain death except, momma’s not coming home Pietro.
It isn’t until the other children start shying away and he hears the whispers from adults that he understands.
Poor little Pietro, with his madman father and dead mother.
His father isn’t a madman, but maybe he’s mad with grief.
They move seven times in the span of the year that follows the death. Little Pietro thinks he understands grief a little better with each move.
Grief is crying in the bedroom with your face pressed into a pillow so your son doesn’t hear you mourn his mother. Grief is locking yourself up with your inventions and forgetting to eat; it’s tinkering with toys until you’ve tinkered so much they crumble in your hands.
Grief is uprooting your son every time the rumors start and you hear, poor little Pietro and his madman father.
Pietro doesn’t care that the other parents say or the way the children look at him with pity. His baba is not a madman and he doesn’t need a mother to be happy. He has his baba and he has himself, he doesn’t need anything else.
He meets Ellis after the seventh move, he’s just turned six and is going to school for the first time. The other children, who’ve grown up together, look at him curiously and he can’t help the way his little body tenses and his tiny hands make tiny fists. He can hear the whispers before they begin and tries not to look too angry for a six-year-old when the teacher says, this is Pietro, he just moved here with his father.
There’s a hush among the other children and Pietro feels his cheeks flush red, this is when the rumors starts.
But no one says anything and he’s ushered to a seat.
At recess he gets into a fight with another student, who asks about his mom and won’t shut up. Ellis is the one who breaks up the fight, tears a strip of his shirt off and wraps it around Pietro’s bloody knuckles.
The other kid has a split lip, black eye, and goes running to the teacher. His dad’s called in to the school and Pietro sits on the bench outside the office with his palms pressed against the wood and his legs swinging back and forth. When his dad finally comes out he looks more weary than Pietro’s ever seen him.
It makes something in his belly twist, shame creeping through him. They’re going to have to move again -
“Let’s go home Pietro,” his father says, scooping him up and holding him close. He clings to his baba, presses his face into his shirt so that when he cries, none of the other kids can see.
It’s okay, he thinks with a sniffle, I’ve got baba, he’s enough.
They don’t have to move, but Pietro isn’t allowed to go back for the rest of the week, until the other boy’s face heals and he’s forced to apologize. He’s not sorry, but he says it anyway.
Ellis comes to visit that Friday with a folder full of things from class. “Don’t want you to get in more trouble,” the redhead says, shoving the folder at him.
For the first time since his mama died, Pietro grins at another child and thinks, maybe it doesn’t need to be just me and baba.
Pietro keeps getting into fights and Ellis keeps breaking them up. He’s ten now and Ellis, eleven. He’s got into more fights than any elementary schooler ever should but he can’t help himself when someone says, your dad’s just a crazy old man locked up in his garage.
He knows the rumors, he knows what the other parents say.
Baba’s not stable, flits from job to job but he loves Pietro and Pietro can’t stand when anyone says something bad.
“Pie, please,” Ellis begs, with a hand wrapped around Pietro’s arm, pulling him back. “He’s a bully.”
If it weren’t for Ellis, Pietro would have launched himself at the other kid, punched at him until a teacher came over and ripped him off, but instead he balls his tiny fists and stomps away.
Baba loves Ellis, lets him spend time in the garage with him while he’s tinkering. Ellis always watches with wide eyes while Pietro gets elbow deep in his own tinkering.
He could get used to this, tinkering with baba while Ellis watches.
But then his baba dies and it feels like the world tilts out from under him.
The funeral is on a Wednesday.
It’s a very small service with Pietro in a little, second-hand suit, standing with Ellis and his family. There’s a pastor from the church baba liked to attend when he felt he needed salvation and a few of the church members Pietro doesn’t recognize. His elementary school teacher comes, a woman in her mid-twenties with a heart too big for such a low income area like theirs.
She looks too nice, Pietro thinks when she steps through the door and takes a seat in a pew by the back.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Ellis squeezes his hand and he’s forced to focus on the words spilling from the preacher’s mouth. It’s all white noise in the end.
He doesn’t cry during the service; not when he’s standing beside the casket and adults are expressing their fake sympathies at him. He knows what they’re thinking and it makes his belly twist uncomfortably, tiny hands making tiny fists. Poor little Pietro, lost his mother and his madman father.
He doesn’t cry when the church empties out and it’s just him, Ellis, and the teacher in the back.
“They’re gonna take me away,” Pietro says, breaking the stale air of silence that’s settled in the building.
“No,” Ellis says firmly, larger hands reaching for one of Pietro’s fists. It takes some effort, but Ellis coaxs his hand uncurled and rubs his thumbs over the red nail dents in his palm. “We’ll figure it out Pie,” his best friend promises.
He wants to believe, but he can’t.
(How sad, a child who has nothing to believe in.)
It’s the sound of heels clicking against concrete that make him look up, expression far too stony for someone so young. “Ms. Doolie,” he mumbles quietly, gray eyes shiny with tears that won’t fall.
“I do social work ontop of teaching,” she says but Pietro doesn’t understand, just looks up at her confused. “I’m going to help you figure something out.”
He ends up in five different foster homes before the Crowley’s are allowed to take him. It’s not Ms. Doolie’s fault, but he blames her anyway,
He gets kicked out of every school he goes to while he bounces from foster home to foster home. The social workers blame his behavior on grief and he wants to punch their smug faces every time. It’s not grief, he thinks, but anger.
At fifteen Kavinsky, because he refuses to let anyone call him Pietro these days, thinks he knows what grief is.
It’s waking up every morning in a an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who don’t give a s**t about you. It’s an aching hole that can’t ever be filled because too many pieces are broken, buried six feet under. It’s knowing that the people who loved you are dead and the god you’re supposed to believe in believes that you’re better off an orphan.
It’s hearing the whispers, that’s Pietro Kavinsky, his dad was a madman and his mom’s been dead his whole life and having to ball your firsts and keep your head down because one more strike and you’re kicked out. It’s going in and out of juvie because no one knows how to sooth your anger except the best friend they won’t let you see.
It’s knowing that your best friend is desperate for his family to take you in so he can help but being unable to because the system is corrupt and you’re not sure you’re allowed to have anything good anymore.
It’s understanding that grief is this overwhelming thing that will consume you if you can’t find an outlet but no one can help you direct it.
It’s split lips and bloody knuckles; fists to the chin and knees to the gut because fighting is the only way you know how to express all this hurt and rage and anger and sadness you’ve got pent up inside you.
Kavnisky is pretty knows what grief is, but he’s not sure anyone else does.
By the time he gets sent to Hllworth, the Crowleys are finally allowed to take custody of him, with Ellis forging the documents as best he could so that his mom is considered a foster parent. Kavinksy’s grateful, he supposes, because it means his best friend is back in his life.
But it doesn’t help the hollowness he carries inside of him. It doesn’t stop him from getting into fights and snarling, <******** you to anyone that tells him he’s not capable.
Hilworth is better than juvie though, which he never thought possible, because the food is decent and he gets privileges sometimes. It’s how he gets a job at a mechanic’s shop, with all of his tinkering time paying off into something real, something that can help him afford to live if he can make it to graduation.
Hilworth doesn’t make him any friends, not that he really cares though. He’s got Ellis and since his baba’s dead and gone, well he doesn’t need anyone else.
He wished for more once and all that got him was a dead father, so Kavinsky doesn’t wish for anything anymore.
Kavinsky is fifteen when he thinks, maybe, his luck is turning around.
The letter comes about a month before his eighteenth birthday and he can’t even be upset because -
Well, he knew it was coming. He was constantly breaking curfew, ditching classes so he could sneak in some extra hours at the mechanic’s shop. He knew it was a stupid idea, but he could tell Ellis was struggling with money. Especially since he was renting a two bedroom he couldn’t really afford in anticipation for the day Kavinsky graduated.
It’s his fault for ******** up bad enough that he had to go to summer school.
Kavinsky doesn’t even have to open the letter to know what it says, but he does it anyway while he’s standing in Ellis’ kitchen with his thumb slipping into the crease. Gray eyes skim the letter and his jaw sets tightly as his fingers crinkle the edges.
We regret to inform you -
He doesn’t need to read it fully to understand. He’s getting kicked out due to academia and attendance and - <******** how is he going to tell Ellie.
They just got over their last fight about school, but there’s no way Kavnisky can avoid telling him. Not if he wants to avoid being homeless until he can convince the garage to let him work there full time or find another job. He just doesn’t -
He doesn’t want to disappoint Ellis, the only person who continued to believe in him after his baba died.
Poor little Pietro with his madman father.
Problem child Kavinsky’s gotten into another fight again.
If you don’t shape up, you’ll end up back in juvie Kavinsky.
Come on Pie, it’s one semester and then you can graduate and come live with me.
Momma’s not coming home Pietro. (Jokes on you, baba’s not coming home either kid.)
Just another ********, that Kavinsky kid.
He can’t focus on anything but those stupid whispers he’s heard all his life and he’s flinging the letter across the kitchen before storming out of the apartment because if he doesn’t get out and find something to put his fist through, he’s going to punch a hole in the wall.
I’m such an idiot, Kavinsky thinks frustrated with himself, such a ******** screw-up.
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Posted: Wed Aug 10, 2016 11:05 am
(Backdated to July 25, 2016)
Avoidance
Word Count: 1151
Somehow, Kavinsky manages to avoid his best friend long enough for his eighteenth birthday to pass.
It’s a quiet affair, with the russian boy dodging Ellis with excuses of work and school and other nonsensical things that aren’t quite true but not quite false either. In truth, he spends most of it packing up his dorm because he’s only got a few weeks before they dump what’s left of his belongings and bar him from the premises.
How he’s managed to keep Ellis to finding out about his expulsion he’s not sure, but he’s managing. Or course, Kavinsky is pretty sure his best friend knows something is up but -
He’d rather feign ignorance than face the music that’s crescendoing.
Kavinsky does spend some time at the garage, enough that if Ellis were to show up and inquire about him then he wouldn’t be lying about working on his birthday. It’s only a few hours, to make enough to offset the expense of all the crap he needs to buy in order to pack his stuff up and the other mechanics give him a card with a bit of cash in it as a birthday gift. Despite himself, Kavinsky’s touched by this display of affection.
Since Baba died, no one has cared about whether it's his birthday or not except Ellis.
He takes it with a gruff, “thanks” and leaves before whatever is creeping up his throat gets the better of him.
Packing up his dorm is harder than he expects, probably because it’s full of half finished things. Half-written essays, half-assed dioramas, half-assembled projects that were discarded the moment he stopped understanding how the pieces worked, and more. It’s disheartening really, to see all these things that he could have finished or done well only to be discarded and abandoned because in the end, Kavinsky isn’t good at finishing stuff that’s for him.
Maybe it’s the lingering feelings of failure, abandonment that he’s harbored since the day people started whispering poor little pietro and his madman father.
Baba always finished his projects, even if they took weeks or months. Kavinsky finishes work that he’s paid to do but if it’s for himself? Then it gets added to the pile of unfinished projects and abandoned things.
(He wonders sometimes, if that’s a testimony to how he views himself. )
In the end, he ends up throwing away more things than what he keeps. Everything unfinished thing he was working on is discarded, thrown into the dumpster just outside the dorms. Toasters that have been torn apart and almost reassembled properly, discarded radio pieces that were part of a larger project, bits of a blown engine that he’d tinkered with because he wanted to know why it exploded, etc.
After that, there’s not much left of personal belongings because Hilworth tried to squash any ounce of individuality the boys had.
He’s got a few pictures of him and his dad, from when he was young, and a few good pictures of him and Ellis. He has his tools, his father’s death certificate and the only picture he has of his mother, when she was pregnant with his unborn sibling.
It’s all very surreal when Kavnisky realizes that all of his belongings fit neatly into two boxes. One full of clothes and shoes and the other full of things are are mostly pieces of memories. (He doesn’t think about the handmade bear who’s stitching is coming undone and is missing an eye sitting on the top of all those other memories.)
But he takes those two boxes, balances one careful atop the other, and carries it out of his dorm with the key sitting neatly on the supplied desk. One of the faculty members will collect it in the morning, or his dormmate, who’s tactfully not around, will turn it in. Probably.
It doesn’t matter, his time at Hillworth has come to an end.
(Abruptly, like everything else in his life.)
Kavinsky ends up in a park, sitting on one of two swings whose chains creak beneath his weight as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. His belongings rest against one of the supporting polls, collecting wood chips along the tape that’s not pressed down firmly enough, and his fingers are wrapped tightly around the cold metal until his knuckles turn white. He’s wearing the same outfit he always is when he wasn’t in the school issued uniform; worn, washed out gray jeans, a white v-neck, and the jean jacket Ellis had given to him on his sixteenth birthday. The beanie is missing, buried somewhere in that box of clothing because he hadn’t thought twice about it when he tossed it in and now -
It doesn’t matter. It’s just a hat and today is just another day.
So what if it’s his birthday? That’s never stopped terrible things from happening to him before.
Eventually, he’s been sitting so long that his calves are sore from the way he’s positioned his toes and he’s got this feeling of emptiness curling in his chest because how is he going to face Ellis?
And then, like clockwork, the cheap flip phone of his buzzes with a text from the man himself.
[Text From Ellis: I know it’s late, but happy birthday Pie. Come over when you can? ]
But Kavinsky doesn’t respond, just tucks the phone back into his jacket pocket and peels himself off the uncomfortable seat. Then, he picks up his boxes and makes his way towards the only place that’s ever felt like home since his baba died.
It’s hard not to grimace when he knocks on the door, balancing his boxes against the door frame and his hip to do so, and he tries perhaps desperately to maintain his composure when Ellis opens the door with a baffled, but immediately concerned look on his face.
“Pie?” The redhead says slowly, brow immediately crinkling and knitting together in that way of his that always makes Kavinsky feel guilty. “What’s going -- ?”
“So - “ Kavinsky cuts him off, swallowing down the lump in his throat that threatens to strangle his words. “I need a place to live.” The russian boy can’t help the bitter laugh that bubbles out his mouth when his head tips back because, well, it’s ridiculous. It has to be some horrible, awful joke that he’s showing up at his best friend’s door with all of his belongings in two boxes because he’s been kicked out of school and he’s aged out of the system, finally.
Ellis doesn’t bother to say anything, just sighs and steps back, fingers gripping the door like it’s the only thing holding him up.
And Kavinsky tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice but fails when he mutters, “happy ******** birthday to me,” and steps inside.
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Posted: Mon Feb 13, 2017 7:46 pm
Sailor Icarus was posted for growth
 Some refs
http://shimoyo.deviantart.com/art/Super-Sailor-Thuban-168510965
http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=16791659
http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=16268485
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Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2017 1:24 pm
Pity Party
--1066 words
In the months leading up to his nineteenth birthday, Kavinsky opts to look at where life is leading him and where it has taken him.
It’s not been easy, the winding road that has him living with his best friend, a rabbit, and a talking cat, but there’s something...perfect about the ******** up way they ended up here. Somedays, K struggles with the fact that his relationship with Ellis, arguably the most important person in the world to him besides his dead family, has stepped over the lines of best friends into lovers territory.
It’s hard, because Kavinsky is terribly aware that he’s a s**t lover.
He isn’t open about his emotions and when he is, it’s a tightly coiled spring of rage ready to burst regardless of who gets caught up in the collateral damage of it all. But, Ellis is undeniably the most important part of his life and Kavinsky has decided that for all his possessiveness and his best friend and lover’s willingness to compromise himself in favor of what K needs instead, there’s got to be something he can do for him.
He starts taking this whole magical sailor bullshit more seriously after Invy informs him that there is unawakened potential within Ellis and he nearly loses his s**t on the poor maine coon that’s taken up residence in his home.
“Swear you won’t drag him into this ******** bullshit you dragged me into,” he hisses at her when she tells him and she rolls her eyes at him, fur bristling when she snaps back, “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Ellis is too good and pure and…soft to drag into more of the sharp edges of Kavinsky’s worlds.
There are only so many times someone can pick their way through broken glass before the cuts and blood on their hands aren’t worth it anymore and K doesn’t know if he’d be able to survive if Ellis hit that point.
Ellie’s all he’s got left. He can’t lose him. He can’t.
(Not yet anyway, because Kavinsky knows that in the end, he’s gonna end up alone but like hell if he’s not going to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.)
So, he tries to get his s**t together and makes arrangement with Invy to patrol more. If it keeps Ellie safe and out of this superhero bs he’ll do it.
He’s gotta do something for his best friend to make up for everything Ellie does for him.
Later, a different idea hits him and the russian boy decides that he’s going to do it before his birthday, a surprise for the one person in the entire world who never gave up on him. It’s the least he can do...
This idea of his takes months to complete, but he has a deadline and he’ll be damned if he misses it.
The whole thing means less jobs he can take, less hours at the shop as he’s flitting to and from the stupid classes he’s forced to attend because they won’t just let him take the damn test. It means less money, with Ellis having to take more shifts at the restaurant but, as always, the ginger does so without complaint.
Another thing to tack onto his guilt, but it’ll be worth it. He knows it will.
(If it’s not, he doesn’t know what he’ll do because it’s the only thing he’s got.)
For the first time in however many years, Kavinsky is home before Ellis is on his birthday and he’s nearly a nervous wreck over it.
His cat is nowhere to be found and he’s sitting on the couch, crinkled certificate in his hand that he keeps looking down. There’s a strange amount of pride that’s welled up in his chest, knowing that he failed high school but he managed to do this with some ease.
Ellie was right, but Kavinsky can’t even be surprised.
What does surprise him is when his best friend finally walks in the door there’s a pen in his hand, one that is incredibly familiar and his heart nearly drops. His first instinct is to get up and storm off, figure out where the hell his damn magical talking cat skittered off to so he could demand answers.
His second tells him to acost Ellis and demand where the ******** he got that pen so he can go to the source and beat the living s**t out of an alien cat.
Somehow, the tightly coiled anger constricts in his chest and he just looks up at the tired and happy smile of the person who likely means the whole world to him.
“Happy birthday Pie,” Ellis grins, crossing the room to place a slightly beat up box in his lap and crawl onto the couch next to him.
Inside is a singular cupcake, chocolate with a vanilla frosting, his favorite.
“What’s that?”
Kavinsky looks up and over, stormy gaze unreadable as he studies the line of the redhead’s face, eyes dropping to the man’s neck where he can see the last fading hickie start to face. He should fix that.
“I - “ He stops, sighs and cards fingers through cropped white hair. “Figured this year I’d give you a gift for my birthday, since you never give up on me and s**t.” Clumsily he shoves the paper against Ellis’ chest and busies himself with plucking the cupcake out of the box and peeling off the wrapper.
“Pie - “ His best friend starts and he’s barely swallowed when he’s turning, knocking the paper out of the man’s hand when he grabs him by the jaw and draws him in for a sloppy, chocolate and vanilla kiss.
“Shut up.” Kavinsky growls when he pulls back to breath. “Just - shut up.”
“Hey- “ Ellis tries with his hands on the Russian’s broad shoulders. “Calm down Pie - I’m here I --”
“Stop talking.” He insists, hands dropping to the hem of the man’s shirt. His thoughts keep going back to that damned pen and his desire to crush it beneath his heel.
Desperate for a distraction, he doesn’t let Ellis get out another word and finally he stops trying to talk because, like always, this is clearly what Kavinsky needs and if he can give it to him, he will.
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Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2017 2:55 pm
Flight Rising
--1293 words Ellis frames his certificate and keeps it hung up in his room because Kavinsky won’t let him hang it in any of the shared living space. As far as the Russian boy is concerned, it’s hardly an accomplishment but it's one of the few things he’s done that has made his best friend happy instead of anxious and he’ll take what he can get because he’s s**t at showing affection.
They don’t talk about the henshin pen, because Kavinisky knows that if he acknowledges it, then it means it’s real and that means they’ve already passed the point of no return.
Invidia is suspiciously missing during all of this, but the cat comes and goes as she pleases. He wants to be mad at her, but he knows it’s not her. She seemed content to leave Ellie out of all this superhero bullshit so it likely wasn’t her, but he doesn’t know who woke his best friend and therefore has nowhere to place his fists.
It’s a goddamn miracle that he doesn’t punch a hole in the wall instead.
(There is still an off-colored patch of spackle that needs to be painted over in the last hole he made.)
Instead, Kavinsky does what he does best.
Get in over his head.
There’s a text shot Ellis’ way, telling him not to expect him home for dinner, he’s doing a late shift at a job. It’s not a lie, because Kavinsky doesn’t like, but it’s not fully the truth either. He doesn’t get paid for his work as a senshi, despite feeling like he should, but it’s thankless like most of the odd jobs he picks up between shifts that the mechanic’s shop.
Plus, he’s hoping to figure out who the damn cat is that decided it was a good ******** idea to drag the one person he thinks needed to stay out of the war, into it.
Things go from bad to ******** horrible pretty quick.
He’s not sure what he did to attract the attention of such a large aura but he doesn’t need Invy to be around to tell him to get the ******** outta dodge as quickly as possible. Running proves to not help because the thing - male or female he doesn’t ******** know - can teleport.
Son of a ******** - s**t, s**t, s**t.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The general’s gravely voice croaks, face obscured by the shadow of his hood. All Icarus can see is a flash of white teeth, twisted upward in a sneer. “I think you and I should play a little game.”
The cloaked figure seems to teeter on the rooftop above him and he can tell that his heart rate is through the roof. Everything about the situation screams, bad, bad. The you’re dead kind of bad that the teen doesn’t think he can fight his way past.
“Think I should ******** pass,” Icarus replies gruffly, doing his best to remain strong and confident seeming even though he’s shaking inwardly, starting to wonder if this is going to be the night he doesn’t make it home to the one person who’s never left him behind.
He can hear the sound of a clucking tongue reverberate in the alley and his heart drops into his stomach because he knows he can’t talk his way out of this one. <********, s**t, <******** not feeling very generous,” the figure states and now that their voice is louder, it’s distinctly male. He drops, landing on the cement sidewalk without so much of a crouch and Icarus is left to wonder how long the dude’s been around if he can do feats like that without so much of a bend in his knee.
“Me neither,” he manages to grit out, nails digging into his palms as he braces himself for the inevitable. If he’s going down, he’s going down with a ******** fight.
As predicted it ends like s**t.
There’s a large gash in his side, by his ribs that he’s barely got a hand covering in a pisspoor attempt to stop the bleeding. His lip is busted too and one of his eyes is swollen. Breathing is difficult because he’s pretty sure one of his ribs is cracked and he’s only on his feet because the ******** got his hand on the front of his toga, holding him securely against the wall while looking at him with sharp eyes that glisten like gold in the pale lighting.
“I appreciate the fire,” the man - Labyrinthite, he’d called himself - cooes, head cocking like a predator assessing its latest meal. “It’s more fun when you fight back.”
When he laughs it’s cold and harsh and stings, leaving Icarus with ringing ears as he struggles to breath.
“Burn in hell,” he snaps, barely coherent enough to talk, much less put up a fight.
“Icarus,” he hears somewhere in the distance, stormy eyes fluttering closed as strength continues to seep from his body. Behind his eyelids he sees a flash of bright light and suddenly, he’s collapsing to the ground with a thud. Dimly, he hears the sound of claws on cement and feels something soft and furry against him.
“Damn it, boy.”
“Invidia?” He croaks, eyes barely creaking open so he can look at the cat pressing her paws onto his legs.
“We don’t have much time. Get up.” His cat demands, looking over her shoulder with panic and worry written all over her furry face. “I thought you were smarter than this,” she scolded and he finds the energy to laugh.
“Never been very smart, Invy.” He lifts a hand to pet her head, even though it seems like a stupid thing to do when he’s staring death in the face but…
Maybe it’s resignation that got the better of him, if he was gonna die, at least Ellis wouldn’t have to watch him.
“You’re not dying, idiot. Where’s your pen? I - “ Invidia cuts off having found it. “You’re ready, I just - “
Everything’s a lot like white noise in those ticking seconds that the guardian cat’s bought him from using her laser on the general who’s starting to get up. He has no idea what she’s saying to him, but he’s doing whatever he’s told from what he can tell.
Next thing he knows, there’s a bright flash of life and something about him is different.
He can’t place what but he feels a little bit of his lost strength has returned and he scoops up the cat as he climbs to his feet. The feather comes automatically and he can’t tell if he said Icarus Rising or not, though he supposes it doesn’t matter.
“Hurry up!” Invidia hisses beneath her breath and he nods, using what strength she’s given him to jump and run while he feels a light as a feather.
For one terrifying moment, he thinks that the general is following him, but he manages to get somewhere safe-ish and power down, clutching Invidia close to his chest. “What did you do?”
“You’re a super senshi, Icarus. Don’t do anything too stupid.” Invidia drawls, shaking her head but he can tell that she’s as relieved as he is that they made it out alive.
He’s still bleeding though and at least a block or two from home, getting back takes a long time and when he finally makes it through the door, he collapses to Ellis’s horror.
His best friend and part-time lover is sitting on the couch until Kavinksy collapsed through the door and is quick to get to him. “Pie? Pie what happened?” Pale blue eyes flicker over to the pen clenched in his hand. “Wait..you’re not - “
“P-patch me up Ellie, then we’ll talk.”
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Posted: Mon Sep 17, 2018 9:30 am
 Icarus is posted for Eternal
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Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2019 8:45 am
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