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[ Destruction ]

The macarons really, really looked good. You'd think he'd learn about not eating weird food there, seeing as he was still a hare mini hopping around. But the macarons bit past his defenses. He hopped right on up and took a nibble-- before beginning to cough. Ugh! It tasted like... ugh. . .


The strawberry banana smoothie was too sweet. Stomach twisting sweet. He poked at it a few more times with his straw, wondering if he could get away with blowing bubbles in it before his mom caught on. Kestral was eyeing him enough to keep him from trying. She looked about as miserable as he was--all his siblings did, actually. Only Calum seemed ok with the situation, firing question after question to the ice demon at the table with them. He'd been the one to get them into the classy restaurant, and was the one who kept telling them to order whatever they wanted. Trying to make them feel welcomed, feel accepted.

Just made Aquilo feel nauseous. Kestral had pointed it out first, how the demon was always spending time with their mom since their dad died. He'd just been helping out around the house--it wasn't until later years that Aquilo learned he was actually helping her with finances, too. But at the time, he'd seen it for what it was, in a warped perspective of a scareling. The ice demon was getting closer to his mother. It'd been a little over a year since his father had died, and the demon was still... around.

His mother had recently begun going "out" with the demon--or so his older siblings kept calling it. His elder brothers seemed more ok with it than Kestral or him were, and Calum... well. She was pretty easily swayed with the demon's trips out to fancy dinners and plays and the occasional toy or something he'd treat them all to.

So he watched, disgruntled, as the two adults and the scareling talked and talked, the adults clearly happy to expand this familial sense. Aquilo's stomach rolled, and he gave a dark look to his smoothie. He didn't even like strawberry banana... he'd only ordered it because it looked more expensive. Only the demon hadn't minded, hadn't even blinked. And now his stomach felt... unhappy with his choice. About as unhappy as he was, watching the demon extend the conversation to one of his brothers, and his traitor of a brother actually laughed at the joke or whatever it was the demon had said.

He was trying to be dad.

His stomach rolled, and Aquilo barely noticed the glass with the smoothie falling to the expensive floor as he shoved away from the table. His mom called after him, he was sure he heard two chairs push back after his to allow the occupants to stand, but he kept moving. Right for the bathroom. The sound of glass breaking rang in his ears. The sound of a family breaking apart piece by piece in his young mind.


. . . Partridge groaned, ears pinned back against his skull as he moved away from the nasty macaron. He gagged, trying to rid himself of both the taste and the memory it'd brought up. Gross. Ugh. Overdramatic and strawberry and banana. Ugh. Ew.

2. Joy

He bites a huge macaroon and bright citrus bursts on his tongue, chased by the dense vanilla of the cake his sister made for his tenth birthday onwards (there's just a dash too much salt which is how he knows it's her cake).

A booming voice echoes through the house and he's running down the stairs, tackling knees, which is all he can reach. Large hands lift him under his arms and he's being tossed in the air. He shrieks and giggles, stomach fluttering with each throw and catch. When he's pulled to a hard chest for a long cuddle, the uniform pressed against his nose smells of dirt and sweat and his dad.

"I'm glad you're home," he mumbles into his dad's shoulder.

"Me too," his dad agrees. There's a thunder of feet and Davey knows he's about to lose his dad to mum and Sarah. His dad looks down at Davey's face, then lights up. "How about you look after these for me, champ?"

There's a jingle and a weight around his neck. He's still not thrilled to be put down so his dad can greet the rest of the family, but he's plays with the dog tags until he can claim his dad back again.

Angel of Song picked the blue one, and while it tasted like honeydew....


The names listed fell in order. Highest to lowest. Her's had been first. Meaning, she was the top of her class, the best of the best and was without a doubt, the most knowledgeable. She smiled at this, feeling she had done something right, done well enough to merit perhaps some affection, attention. Yet none came. She had been outstanding, wonderful, a delight. Teachers wrote her brilliant recommendation letters yet her peers?

Her peers saw nothing.

Nothing but a girl who was odd, weird, and did not belong. She was an outcast, meant to be shunned, and those who stood by her to be treated as lesser.

She was the smartest of her class and could do no wrong.
Nothing wrong, but get a high score, and for a moment, think she might be worth something.