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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jun 12, 2018 22:17:43 GMT -5
;D
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Post by Tealraven 🎃 on Jun 12, 2018 22:28:06 GMT -5
{ here I am! I take it you want character descriptions? }
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jun 12, 2018 22:47:09 GMT -5
oh yes but we can just do something quick and simple like this, unless you dearly desire to do more, go for it <3
Noah Coffey - 18 y.o. - 5'10", 150 lbs - dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes
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Post by Tealraven 🎃 on Jun 12, 2018 23:06:52 GMT -5
{ sounds good! }
Bernice "Bee" Hartwood // 19 years old // 5'3", 130 lbs. // messy blonde curls and brown eyes
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jun 12, 2018 23:13:30 GMT -5
[ squeals i love her faceclaim omg pretty bb ]
The salty mist on his face from the Irish Sea meant that they had made it. It was cold, and damp, and Noah shivered. The ocean was a dark, emotionless blue-grey, broken only by the foam on the waves. The horizon beyond the wooden dock was invisible, covered by clouds that seemed to stretch across the sky in every direction. His heart felt like it skipped a beat at the thought of a monster hiding in those clouds, waiting for them to try to escape before it leapt, cutting them up and drinking their blood.
He tightened his grip on the book tucked under his arm, shoulders tense as he glanced around, unable to shake the feeling that the sky was scowling down at him. It had the color and smell of melting snow, though there was another smell, underlying. Iron, maybe. The thought prompted Noah to turn his head, looking behind him at Bee. He smiled instinctively at her, as if a smile could hide the fact that he was scared. He didn’t want her to know that he was anxious, and he had a constant sensation in his stomach of falling. It felt like an icepick was stuck through his chest, each pulse sending adrenaline coursing through his body. Crouched behind a pile of large crates, he knew they were in a safe spot, at least for the time being, until they figured out what to do. Scanning the dock, he could see there were only two ships in port. The one to their left was empty and still, save for the rocking from the ocean. The one to their right had a plank down on the dock, over which three or four men were walking back and forth, loading boxes labelled with medical supplies, eggs, dairy products, and cages that appeared to hold chickens. That was their way off their home isle. Noah felt a twinge of sadness, but it was incomparable to the relief. They were nearly free from whatever that monster was that had attacked their foster home. Butterflies of guilt battered his insides, causing him to look back at Bee again.
“Ready?” They had to get on that boat without being seen, or they had no way off the island. Before she could respond, the sound of wood splitting jumped through the air, followed by a chorus of curses and exclamations. Noah flinched at the sudden break in the monotony, peeking over the crates to find that one of the workers had dropped a case of pharmaceuticals, judging by the outrage on the others’ faces as they set their own loads down and stomped over to the unfortunate man, who was prying open the crate to see what damage had been done.
“It’s now or never,” Noah whispered, motioning for Bee to follow him. Perhaps they were luckier than he thought, it just seemed unlikely considering everything they had been through in the last week. First, a thing called a hollowgast destroyed the only home they could remember, so then they were on the run, following the signs along the road to the sea, which went up a steep incline for half the day, and had felt like a mountain until they managed to hitch a ride over the peak. By now, their feet were blistered and aching, and all Noah could think was, a few more steps, just a few more.
The sailors had their backs turned to the ship and the peculiar children as they sprinted across the dock and on board. Quietly, like mice, the two friends fled below deck, finding themselves among the cargo, where there were actual mice darting from shadow to shadow. Noah picked the darkest part of the area, a corner behind a stack of four crates. Hidden there, no one would be able to sneak up on them. Of course, this meant they would be trapped if someone did notice them, and then what would they do? Fight their way out? Hopefully it won’t come to that. Worst-case scenarios were the last thing he needed on his mind then. Unfortunately, it felt like they were the only thing that existed for them. He made sure Bernice went in first, just in case they were caught. She was smaller, she could probably escape attention much easier than he could. If something went wrong, he would rather she made it safely, as opposed to neither of them. With not much space between the crates and wall, he tucked his knees up to his chest as he sat down, as far out of sight, he hoped, as he could be, without squishing her into the other wall or, God forbid, touching her. To be safe - because Noah was always safe - he took the librarian’s backpack off his shoulders and stuck it between him and Bee as they settled in, afraid to relax but hopeful that they would make it to the other side without incident.
He let out a shaky breath and glanced over at her. “So far so good,” he offered, trying for another smile that was gone too soon. A sigh, and then, “How are you doing, are you okay?” He was tired of the silence of the past few days. Not that there was nothing to say, but he didn’t think either of them knew how to say it. That, and there hadn’t been time, trudging breathlessly through the rain to get here. Now, they had at least a few hours to rest, hopefully. For perhaps the thousandth time in his life, he wished he could wrap an arm around her shoulders, hold her tight. Not because he thought she needed him to, but because he wanted to. He remembered what it felt like from when they were kids, and he would never admit it, but he missed hugs. Things were so much simpler when they were seven or eight, especially compared to the way things were now. Life didn’t seem real anymore; it felt like yesterday that they had gotten used to their abilities, or at least gotten used to the idea and the presence of their powers. He was uncertain as to whether they would ever be accustomed to what they could and couldn’t do.
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Post by Tealraven 🎃 on Jun 13, 2018 19:19:15 GMT -5
{ thanks <3 glad you like her! sorry for vanishing last night. I fell asleep... } Bernice was tired of running. Tired of the claws of fear that squeezed her heart whenever she saw a shadow lurking around a corner. The crisp ocean breeze was like a tonic for her terror. Each invigorating breath she took calmed her frayed nerves. It ran gentle fingers through her tousled blonde curls and tugged on her sleeves and murmured flirtatiously in her ears, momentarily distracting her. Here, she could lose herself in the wildness of the sea, and be at peace. She closed her eyes for half a heartbeat. Darkness filled her head and the expression of horror on her best friend’s face flashed before her. The hollowgast.
She opened her eyes again, heart racing. She felt Noah tense beside her and wondered if she’d ever feel safe again. She risked at glance at the boy she’d grown up with and let herself be reassured by his familiar smile. If he wasn’t scared, she shouldn’t be either! They had powers on their side, bizarre and dangerous and wonderful. She grinned back at him, her eyes hard. “Let’s do this!” They’d made it this far; they could handle whatever else the universe had to throw at them.
Bee followed Noah’s gaze to the two ships moored alongside the docks. She could hear their algae-stained hulls creaking in the waves from here. It filled her with dread and excitement. She’d never been on a boat before! In spite of their dire situation and all they’d endured over the past week, Bee felt a thrill of adventure tingle up her spine. She nodded to her friend, and on his signal, vaulted over the crates that had been sheltering them.
They’d walked so much recently she thought she wouldn’t be able to feel anything in her feet anymore. But as they bolted through the chaos, swerving nimbly around the man knelt beside his damaged crate, the dull ache returned. She forced herself to breathe deeply, the briney air stinging her lungs and making her nose crinkle. She charged aboard, nearly stepping on Noah’s heels, and hesitated when she reached the square in the deck. She balked at the idea of willingly leaping into a dark hole, but swung down into the cargo hold anyway.
“Noah?” Bee peered around, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the milky half-light trickling down through the floorboards. “I’m here. I’m alright.” She stepped forward, tripped, and caught herself against a sack of flour. She squawked and spluttered indignantly, a cloud of white dusting her face and neck. She stuck out her arms and flailed unceremoniously forward. She felt along the wall until she heard the faint sound of hoarse breathing and looked down. She could almost make out the hunched shape of Noah, crouching behind a pyramid of crates.
She dropped down beside him, leaning away when he pushed the backpack between them. She always felt vaguely guilty when he did this, even though she knew it neither her fault nor his. She said nothing until she got her breath back, wincing at the stitch in her side. Her chest was heaving rapidly and her muscles may as well have been on fire. Bee pulled her knees in close to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin in the bend of an elbow. “Rats,” she mumbled. “So much for traveling in style, huh?” She gave Noah a crooked smile, feverishly rubbing her arms and pretending the goosebumps prickling her skin were from the damp cold and not the suspicious, scratching, squeaking noises coming from a particularly dark corner of the room. She kept smiling, but her forehead wrinkled. “What about you? You okay?”
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jun 13, 2018 21:46:27 GMT -5
[ no problem! I'm going to sleep soon this evening myself. I do have to work tomorrow, so if I don't respond then, I will have it done on Friday. also omg bee is so adorable I can't even wait she is so sweet and noah is just my darling squeals they're cute lil butternuts <3 ]
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Post by Tealraven 🎃 on Jun 13, 2018 23:32:17 GMT -5
{ no worries! tomorrow is my last day of school, so I'll be busy finishing up my classes. my last two finals happen to be in my toughest classes, hooray for me. so. take your time xD I'll likely be pretty tired myself, probably. }
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jun 15, 2018 16:31:15 GMT -5
As they squeezed into the corner behind the stack of crates, and Noah had decided that Bernice was hidden well enough in the shadows beside him, he tried to steady his breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It worked best if each breath was longer than four seconds, but he had neither the will nor the lung capacity to use proper therapeutic technique to calm his anxiety at that moment. There were too many things that were uncertain, or completely unknown, and the sheer number of variables in their lives right now seemed enough to stack the odds of survival against them.
Noah listened to the gulls outside, hovering over the ship the way gulls do, as if waiting to bid it safe passage. The layers of squeaks and caws from the gulls was almost relaxing; it reminded him of the rare times they had gone to the beach. The hull groaned softly as waves lapped against its sides, gently pitching it up and down. Noah let his eyes close for a minute, pretending he was sitting in the rocking chair in the nursery of their home. Bee was saying something about rats, trying to be funny, and although he didn’t see her smile and didn’t turn to face her, he knew it was there and smiled back, kind of a sideways smile down at the floor.
He clasped his hands together in front of him when she returned his question, almost as if he were about to pray, but it was a gesture meant to comfort himself: since he couldn’t hold her hand, he held his own. His smile slowly vanished as he squeezed his hands tighter until his expression was empty and his knuckles were white. After a pause that was longer than it should have been, he looked up from the slats of grey daylight by their feet and nodded.
“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re all good. I can’t feel my feet, though.” Now he was trying to be funny, trying to hide his fear from the most perceptive person he knew, though she knew him too well to be fooled anyway. At times it seemed to him that she was braver as well, and Noah couldn’t stand that sometimes, so he would never tell her when something scared him. He couldn’t. The one and only time he had confessed was about five months ago, when they had been bored out of their minds, staying up past midnight with a few of the other older kids, playing truth or dare. Of course, there were only so many dares they could come up with for Noah to do without having physical contact with anyone, so he had to choose truth. Bee had asked him his worst fear. He’d been hesitant at first, wishing he could just whisper it to her, but eventually said it aloud after they pressured him. I’m afraid of losing you. That was it, simple and so cheesy. She’d giggled and they had moved on to the next dare, but he knew that she knew that he was being serious, and not in a gross, gushy romantic way. Noah would be lost without her. She was the only person who made him feel like he belonged, and her words were often what kept him sane, her voice in his head was almost as sweet as getting a real hug from her.
More than anything, Noah wanted to go back to the orphanage. If only I could manipulate time. He would put everything back the way it was, before the hollow. Back to those silly late-night games, and not having to worry about surviving. He was snapped from his thoughts when the sharp thudding of footsteps above them rained dust on their heads, and although it was quiet down here, it somehow felt like a hush came on the mice and chickens, and whatever else was down here. Muffled voices calling orders and the loud sound of boxes dropped and tied on the deck reached their ears, and Noah scarcely dared to breathe, clenching his hands together. The door the cargo bay was shut suddenly, leaving them in a deeper darkness than he thought possible. He glanced over to where he knew Bee was, but all he could make out now was a few blonde curls on top of her head.
Some time passed before Noah shifted, his hands and back aching. The clamor above had dimmed, but not disappeared, leading him to think that they were at their respective posts, ready to do their jobs when the ship unmoored. A few more minutes went by, perhaps, before the rocking of the vessel nearly ceased, replaced by a manifest forward momentum. They had drifted from the dock and turned to face the next island, and they were on their way. Noah sighed happily, though he was not convinced that this meant they were safe, not yet.
“You know what song I have stuck in my head?” He whispered, though it was unlikely they would be heard down here above the waves. “That blessing that Alana used to sing us to sleep with when we were little? The most random song, but it’s stuck in my head alluhva sudden.” He couldn’t recall the name of the tune, but Bee would remember it, and he figured this would cheer her up, make her laugh. It had been at least seven days since they had laughed, but it felt more like seven years.
“If you wanna get some sleep now, you can. I’ll take first watch.”
An hour passed (though it felt like ten minutes) before something went wrong. The crew above them were singing some kind of sailing song when the door swung open and one of the men plodded belowdecks, a thick rope in his gloved hands, one end frayed and snapped. Noah made himself as small as possible, hoping the man wouldn’t look in their direction. He was humming along with the shanty they were singing up there, as he turned his back to the stowaways and rummaged around in an open crate, pulling out a new rope and dropping the old worn one at the base of the supply crate. The man turned and froze, locking eyes with Noah, who drew in an involuntary gasp. The man called out for backup and Noah instinctively turned to Bee and pushed her down out of sight, the backpack on top of her. He hadn’t touched her for more than two seconds, knew she’d be okay in a minute or so, but before he could communicate anything else to her, the sailor had stormed over and grabbed Noah’s wrist, dragging him to his feet. Noah, naturally, expected the man to drop him, paralyzed as his heart’s rhythm reset itself. It didn’t happen. He stared, confused, but the man just glared at him and pulled him toward the steps, thankfully not noticing the smaller body in the corner. Bee was safe, as long as she stayed put. Rather, that’s what Noah told himself; even he knew it wasn’t a guarantee.
The gloves. Of course. The man’s gloves were thick and rough, made to protect his hands against ropeburn. Noah had just figured this out when he found himself surrounded by the rest of the ship’s crew, having halted their work and shanty at the sight of the boy.
“Look what I found in the cargo hold,” the man holding Noah boasted, a threatening tone in his voice, though Noah couldn’t tell who it was directed to, so he took his chances and wrenched his arm free, not knowing what else to do. It dawned on him that there was nowhere to run, but what other choice did he have? Another member of the crew caught him when he tried to get to the helm, and this time, the man cried out, falling to his knees and letting go.
“He shocked me!” Despite their outward appearance, these men were not dumb. They looked to the man with the gloves, and a couple others with similar garb pushed their way to the front of the pack, blocking Noah’s chance of escape. It took maybe fifteen seconds to pin the kid down.
“What kind of trick is this?” The man who had found him first asked, growling in his face. Noah was desperate. “Nothing, no - no trick, please, just let me go. Where are we?”
Arm pinned painfully behind his back, he was hauled to his feet and shown the horizon to their right. The Irish coast. They weren’t even close to their destination. “That right there’s Ballycastle, boy. And that right there’s where we’re sending ya. Can’t have no stowaways on this ship.” Noah struggled, tried to free himself again, but his shoulder felt like it was on fire, and the more he moved, the more it seemed to be spreading down his chest and spine.
“Okay, fine! Drop me there. I didn’t mean to cause trouble, I just wanted to get away from-” He stopped himself. They would never believe him. But the damage was done. “Away from what?” The man asked suspiciously, before he laughed. “Guess that just reaffirms it. We’re not dropping you anywhere, except here in the ocean. You can swim there.”
Noah felt like he was going to be sick. “No, wait, please! I can’t swim! Please don’t throw me overboard-” A fist to the face shut him up, and he collapsed on the wooden deck.
“Can’t swim, eh? Now, I don’t believe that for a minute. You live on an island, for Christ sake.” Noah tried to get his hands under him to stand, but his jaw felt like mashed potatoes, and hands held him down. Heart pounding, he was aware this might be the end. He could swim, yes, but he wasn’t good at it, never had the chance to really learn. Hopefully Bee would make it to the other side.
The man’s gloves on his skin were like sandpaper, scratching and raking, but that was nothing compared to what he did before he dumped Noah over the side. Pinning the boy’s arm back again, he twisted and yanked it upward. A quick pop and then a flash of white pain like lightning and his shoulder was dislocated. He screamed.
“Can’t swim? Prove it.” The man’s voice was bubbly, like he was already underwater. Noah’s brain didn’t seem to work, and everything he saw next was like a stop motion movie. The railing, and the land beyond it. He would never make it. The ocean below him, climbing up the sides of the ship, beckoning to him. Free-fall, and then a slap of water on his face, pounding his ribs and then letting him sink. Noah managed to pull his arm to his side, using his good arm to pull himself to the surface, where he got in half a breath before a wave found him, pushed him back down. Salt filled his nose and eyes and he fought against the frigid water, determined to make it to the surface so he had a chance, however slim, of making it back to shore.
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Post by Tealraven 🎃 on Jun 16, 2018 23:43:38 GMT -5
Bee watched him for a minute. Her soft, round face creased with concern. Her chest felt tight, her heart beating wildly inside like a great thumping drum. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “We’re all good.” She straightened, her back flat against the wall. She tipped her head back and gazed at the low, dripping ceiling, feeling dizzy. “I can’t feel my feet, though.”
After a beat of silence, she began to giggle. She must have been exhausted, because the absurdity of such a mundane comment struck her as hilarious. Sore feet seemed like the least of their troubles right now. “I’m not sure I have any left!” She carefully unbent one knee and extended her leg, wincing as the cramped muscles stretched. “Could you check?” Normally, this is when she’d lean over and nudge his shoulder with hers playfully. But things hadn’t been normal for almost ten years. Never again.
Ten years. Had it really been that long? Nearly. She was nineteen, only a few months older than Noah. Their abilities had first manifested around their tenth birthdays. His came first.
It had been pouring buckets outside all morning with no sign of stopping. Rain gurgled noisily through the downspout and dripped off the eaves, splattering loudly on the paved walkway outside. Tiny rivers streaked the windowpane, the glass so blurred the garden beyond had melted into blobby green shapes. The storm had rumbled in late the previous afternoon, turning the skies an ominous shade of grey, and raged all through the night. The worst of it had passed, but the children were trapped inside until the clouds cleared, restless and bored. The older kids curled in armchairs listening to mixtapes on their banana-yellow walkmans or reading books they’d read a thousand times before. The rowdier little kids found all sorts of noisy ways to keep themselves entertained, and the volume on the walkmans was cranked up as peals of laughter bounced off the walls.
Bee was one of those rowdy little kids. She buzzed all over the room, laughing and chattering away. That was how she’d earned her nickname. Bee fit her much better than Bernice, the weird old-fashioned name she’d inherited from her great-grandmother, God knows why. She’d coaxed Noah away from his gameboy and into playing tag with her. She hadn’t had to try very hard to convince him. The fire flickering in the hearth threw elongated shadows across the carpet as she swerved around a tangle of six year-olds playing with a puzzle on the floor. Noah had cornered her by the back door, locked to prevent the children from sneaking out into the garden. He’d reached out to tag her, and that’s when it happened. As soon as he grabbed her shoulder, a tiny shock raced down her arm, making the hairs stand on end. She’d snatched her arm back and examined it gingerly, leaving her friend blinking in confusion and alarm.
That was the night everything changed forever. At first, they’d chalked it up to carpet friction. Noah had been in his socks, Bee cornered against the door, her arm a few inches away from the brass knob. That was all. But then it kept happening. The first few times it happened by accident, not much harm done. Then it gradually got stronger. Noah seemed frightened and excited and curious all at once of his new power. Bee was a little jealous of her friend’s newfound specialness. The naive young girl already believed with all her heart that Noah was the kindest and wonderfullest person in the whole world. She’d sometimes wished that she could be special, too, if for no other reason than to be deserving of his friendship.
She got her wish a year later, when she turned eleven. Only her power had revealed itself in a far less innocent way.
“Hm?” Bee lifted her head. Noah was talking to her. His voice seemed disembodied in the gloom, even though he sat right next to her. She stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes; she hadn’t remembered closing them. She missed the beginning of his sentence, but heard something about what Alana used to sing them to sleep with when they were young. Their old caretaker. “Wishing You A Rainbow? Of course I remember,” she whispered, and hummed the first line of the old lullaby before falling silent.
May God give you For every storm, a rainbow For every tear, a smile. For every care, a promise And a blessing in each trial.
Alana would always sing it in goofy voices to keep them from crying over a broken toy. Sometimes she’d imitate a cartoon character while patching up a bloody knee. She’d sing it with wildly inaccurate accents, French and German and American, just to get them to crack a smile. Bee had never stopped to think about the lyrics before. They held much more meaning now.
She eased herself down into a half-upright, half-lying-down position to doze while Noah took the first watch. She was too tired to argue with him. She punched the backpack several times, shifted it around a bit, then nestled her head into her makeshift pillow. She felt the loaf of bread they’d stolen sag beneath her cheek. She pushed the backpack forward so it brushed Noah’s leg and cradled her head on her hands instead. It was hardly comfortable at all, but beggars can’t be choosers. Her eyes drifted shut again and the creaking hull and rise and fall of the waves lulled her to sleep in within minutes.
For every problem life sends, A faithful friend to share. For every sigh, a sweet song, And an answer for each prayer.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆ A sharp gasp in her ear. An unfamiliar voice. Sudden darkness. Bee had hardly sat up when something thick and heavy hit her square in the face and knocked her over. Her head banged against the wooden floor and she involuntarily bit her tongue. Sparks of pain shot through her skull, followed by spasms of panic undulating in her stomach. The hollowgast? Did it follow us? She heard the scuffle of shoes on wood; something dragging Noah across the floor. But he wasn’t yelling, didn’t even seem to be struggling. She didn’t hear any fighting sounds. Just a disgruntled adult’s voice. What’s going on? Where are we?
Every instinct screamed at her to throw the backpack off and charge after him. Bee’s body had tensed into fight-or-flight mode, and she was ready to fight. It took every fiber of her being to stay put, breathing fast and hard, listening to the receding steps of Noah and his captor echoing back at her in the empty cargo hold. That’s right. They were in the belly of a ship. Stowaways.
And they’d been caught.
She waited only as long as was necessary. She heaved the backpack off of her and stood up on shaky legs. The ship rocked sideways and she threw out an arm to brace herself against the wall. “Oh, God,” she muttered, still blinking cobwebs of sleep from her eyes. “What a rude awakening. So uncalled for.” She laughed bitterly at herself, kicked a crate over, then tottered toward the light pouring from the upper deck. A thin rope ladder dangled down that she hadn’t seen before. She glanced back over her shoulder. Where did you go? She hadn’t seen which way Noah and his captor went, so she decided to go back the way she came. She tested her weight on one of the fraying rungs, and hauled herself up onto the deck. She lay sprawled on her belly for a few moments, out of breath, until she heard footsteps creaking toward her. She rolled awkwardly behind a barrel and sat up on her knees. Whoever had passed by hadn’t seen her.
She peered over the barrel. Only her eyes and the top of her head were visible. The barrel was nearly as tall as her while kneeling. The man who had walked by approached a gathering crowd beside the ship’s railing. No doubt Noah was at the center of it. The sailors scattered as the man marched up, revealing her friend trapped between them. The man grabbed Noah's arm, and pinned it behind him at an awkward angle. Bee winced. Noah was too far away for her to see his face, but that had to hurt. Why wasn’t he fighting? Why couldn't he just zap them? Then she saw the thick gloves on the man holding him and realized it would’ve been useless to struggle. She caught snippets of their conversation - no trick - let me go - Ballycastle - can’t swim - but the wind blew most of it away. With a bolt of terror she realized now would be a good time to use her power. Maybe she could influence the sailor to let him go. Could she do it from a distance? She hadn’t tried before.
She was pondering her options when a hand grabbed her roughly by the back of her shirt. Bee tried not to scream and struck out blindly, her foot connecting with somebody’s stomach. She heard a soft “oof” and was let go. She dropped to the ground, stumbled up, then crouched down again, out of sight of the sailors. On his back in front of her was boy with shockingly red hair. He sat up slowly, clutching his belly, the wind knocked out of him. Then their eyes met. He had to be only a few years younger than Bee. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. They frowned at each other in mutual confusion for a moment. Then the kid started to open his mouth, and Bee lunged clumsily toward him, slapping a hand over his gaping jaw.
“Shut up,” she hissed. The boy pushed her away, and she tried to shove him back down, but she didn’t weigh much. So long as she kept him from making any noise - if she could just get him to be still - she really didn’t want to have to hurt someone - she crawled on top of him and drove her knees into his gut as hard she could, temporarily immobilizing him. “C’mon, kid! I need you to listen to me. My friend’s in trouble, and I gotta help him, but I can’t let anyone see me.”
The boy stared at her furiously, nostrils flaring, but his strength seemed sapped. He had stopped thrashing for the moment. Bee took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye. “Please.” The strange warmth of her power was sparkling along the neurons in her brain, glowing behind her eyes, as she transferred her thoughts to his. A thin film began to spread over his eyes. She fixed him with her fiercest glare. “You will listen to me,” she commanded in a whisper. “You will go to the captain, or your boss, or whoever’s in charge, and you will tell them to --”
Pop. Splash. Screaming. Malicious laughter. Bee looked up just in time to see one of the men shove Noah overboard. She screamed, brought her hands to her mouth, too late. The sailors closest to her whipped around. Then the redhaired boy shot up from underneath her with incredible force, knocking her backward. She hit the barrel hard enough to topple it onto another barrel, and another, domino-effect, rolling them pell-mell across the deck. The men shouted in surprise as they tried to dodge the obstacles, tripping and falling on one another. Bee scrambled onto her hands and knees before the kid could pin her. She tried to catch a glimpse of his face. Was the film still in his eyes? She couldn’t see. Someone else grabbed her, someone tall and brawny and stinking of fish and alcohol. She kicked and screamed and craned her neck to see where the boy had gone. He was bolting toward the man who had thrown Noah overboard. “Hey!” Her voice cracked. “HEY! TELL HIM TO GET NOAH BACK! MAKE HIM THROW A NET OVERBOARD! DROP A LADDER! DO SOMETHING!”
The man holding her threw her down. She gasped for breath, but the air was immediately slammed out of her as the brute landed on top of her. He held her down by the shoulders in a vice-like grip. Bee wouldn’t stop fighting. She would never stop fighting. She kicked and thrashed with all the energy she had, adrenaline and thoughts of survival obscuring her brain, keeping her from simply telling the man to let her go. Her head rolled sideways, searching the deck for the boy. Amidst the chaos she saw red, and there he was, talking to the man who had thrown Noah overboard and making all sorts of wild gestures in her direction. The man glowered at her. “Do something,” she begged, too hoarse to keep shrieking. She had no idea if it would work. She didn’t even know if he’d heard her.
All she could do was hope.
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jun 21, 2018 22:21:54 GMT -5
The man with the gloves - the leader, as far as anyone could tell - the first mate, or captain, or whatever, was unwavering in his decision. His attention, like all the others, had turned toward the sudden scream, unfamiliar and unwelcome. Another stowaway. They’re like the rats, he thought, neverending. His countenance darkened into a scowl when the kid with the red hair broke the girl’s hold on him and stumbled his way over to his superior. The stiff-backed sailor straightened, motioning to one of his men that had reached the second stowaway, and that man grabbed her, held her tight. She started yelling something, eyes locked on the back of the kid’s head as he reached his goal.
“Got ‘er, Abe!” Someone called, and Abe noticed that his man that had caught the girl had not been shocked, at least not in the way they had seen in her friend. They could take care of her easily. Abe focused on the kid’s red hair as he stopped in front of him, panting slightly. Whether he was still under her control or not, Bee may never know. Regardless, Abe was not, and he brushed the kid roughly aside, visibly displeased. She thought she could tell his crew what to do? She was worse than that boy, Noah, she called him.
“Pick her up, throw her over with her friend. The rest of you, back to your places, let’s keep going.”
Another man had joined in grabbing hold of the girl, ensuring she wouldn’t break free. They pulled her over to the edge and without another word, had shoved her over the railing and into midair, watching the splash as she hit the water.
The boat had barely slowed during this confusion, and now its sails were taut and its wake following smoothly along behind, growing and spraying. Noah had resurfaced, only to find himself directly behind the ship’s stern, dragged farther away in the wake. He caught a glimpse of another form in the water before he was sucked under again.
The kid with the red hair, perhaps feeling bad or still feeling the effect of Bee’s power, sneakily threw a life-vest over the side of the ship before he returned to his place near the helm. It landed almost gracefully in the water next to Bee, and it was of little comfort, but it would help at least one of the stowaways float.
Noah tried frantically to tell his body to move, push your belly up, you have to float until you can breathe for a bit. It was tough to focus on swimming when the water seemed like it was swallowing him, constricting his lungs and dictating his need for air. He couldn’t feel his arm, save for the pounding pain like a nail-gun driving into his shoulder every time he tried to use it to get to the surface.
One last reach and pull and he broke the surface again. Kicking his feet to raise them level with his chest, he floated on his back for a moment, lungs filling with air desperately. He caught his breath, letting the waves carry him up and down before he lifted his head, looking around for Bee. It had to be her that had fallen in the water after him. They had found her. Damit. There was no way she would be able to swim by herself and drag him after her, trying to keep them both afloat. She couldn’t do all that without touching him, at least. She would have to turn off his power.
A sense of dread filled his stomach with butterflies, coursing through him by way of adrenaline. His first instinct was to not let her. He didn’t want her to get into his mind and take away that part of him. Granted, it was a part that he wasn’t sure he always wanted there, but he didn’t like that someone else could control it and he couldn’t, not even when that someone was his best friend. Whatever she did to people to control them, Noah knew firsthand that it made you feel empty inside. It was like watching yourself from the outside. He could maintain some independence, though he was infinitely more obedient, like his mind was numb and he didn’t care to fight back against foreign thoughts, even when he could separate them from his own.
She had only done so about six times since they had developed their powers, and each time it got easier to let her in. It also felt stranger when she let him go, to have his self back, not to mention his ability. Whenever she released him, it was like the tide rushing into a sandcastle moat, disintegrating everything it was supposed to protect. He could imagine it was similar to the shock that others felt when he touched them. It wasn’t pleasant and he was hesitant to do it again, but with his arm like this, he knew they had no other choice.
Survive. That was it. Swim in the direction of Ballycastle’s shore, and then… hope for another boat to leave from there soon. But he couldn’t think about that yet. Noah flipped onto his stomach, kicking his legs feebly against the swollen waves. Above him, the sky was grey as ever, but he knew it would be dark soon. It couldn’t be too far from sunset by now. They had to get to land. After a few facefuls of salt water, riding down the backsides of the waves, he reached Bee just as the ship was growing smaller in their view.
“Bee, are you okay?” He asked, his voice frantic and pained. Searching for obvious signs of injury, and finding none, he allowed himself to breathe deep. This, of course, meant a wave crashing down on them before they could catch it. Swept under water once more, Noah popped back up right before the next wave, which he was braced for this time. When the swells had lessened slightly, and the winds died down, he reached for her.
“Bee, you have to do it. My arm - I can’t keep this up much longer.” His eyes jumped to the bright orange beside her. Had she managed to grab that on the way out? It was unlikely, but he was glad of it all the same. I’m sorry, I got us into this. His idea to stowaway, his idea to leave the land as soon as possible, without knowing whether the hollow would catch them on land or not. Whether it could swim anyway. They didn’t know half as much as he felt they should, so he had made the executive decision to try their luck. He failed. Noah couldn’t say any of this to her. Shore, first. He could always apologize if they lived through the night. Ballycastle seemed like it was miles away, and probably was.
“Put that on,” he said, meaning the life-vest. “Make me turn off the shock so we can swim together.” Noah was gasping for air, so he arched his back slightly, floating on his back again to try and catch his breath before they made their attempt to swim to shore.
He was dreading the voice in his head, almost tangible like fingers wrapping around his brainstem gently, though growing more and more vice-like with each word. The only solace was in knowing he would be able to touch her again, but this thought was barely a ray of sunshine in his dark fear, because he knew he wouldn’t feel anything good when he touched her, like he could when they were younger, and hugs were an everyday treat. It wouldn’t mean anything to him to touch her, not when she was in control of everything. Some part of him knew it should mean something, that he should be ecstatic and giddy when she touched him, and perhaps Bee would understand this in the way that she did when she used her ability, but it wouldn’t affect him. A few more waves drifted them toward the land, and Noah shook the sadness off as if he was shaking water from his hair.
“Ready,” he said, lifting his chin bravely but his voice shook. This would be the opposite of fun, but they might survive. He had run out of ideas.
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Post by Tealraven 🎃 on Jun 23, 2018 18:51:41 GMT -5
Another pair of large hands seized her arms. Bee kicked at the other man’s leg. If she hit his knee hard enough, she could knock his feet out from under him; possibly keep him from walking, too. But she missed, and kicked his shin instead. This only made him angrier. He roared something unintelligible at the sailor pinning her down. He gripped her arm even tighter, cutting off circulation to her hands. One yanked her to her feet, the other shoved her from behind. Together, they pinned her arms to her sides, and frog marched her to the edge of the ship.
“Have a nice swim, sweetheart,” the biggest sailor leered. His nose was only a few inches away from hers, and his breath reeked of strong beer. Bee spat in his face. He squeezed her wrist so hard she felt something crack, and tossed her over the railing.
Wind ripped through her hair as she plummeted toward the roiling sea. A wave rose up to catch her, or suck her down to the bottom of the ocean, and she plunged into freezing black water. Salt stung her eyes and her ears began to pop as she sank steadily, too shocked to move. Somehow, she managed not to lose her breath, even after slamming into the water with the force of a cannonball. At first, she couldn’t see anything, and her eyes hurt too much. She couldn’t hear anything, either -- just a low rumble from somewhere behind her. All she knew was she was running out of time. Driven by instinct alone, she kicked to the surface. Her head broke through just as a second wave crested above her. She tried to suck in air, but got a mouthful of foam instead. The thundering surf pushed her back underwater.
Bee clawed frantically at the swirling water. Nope. This is not how I plan to die, she thought. I’m not going to let stupid water kill me. What an awful death that would be. She caught a glimpse of something pale flailing ahead of her, and she almost gasped. Was that him? Two arms, two legs: Noah. That was why she couldn’t die. If she was ever going to give up her life, it would be for him. She would much rather not die at all, though, she decided, so she clambered up and up and up again. As her arm punched into open air, her hand smacked right against something that wasn’t quite hard and not quite soft. Her head collided with it moments later.
A life vest. Where did that come from? Bee looped her arm around it and swam blindly toward the spot she’d last seen Noah. She struggled to keep her head above the water, and she kept getting seaspray and wet hair in her eyes. She squinted over her shoulder and saw a dark smudge nearing the horizon. There went their only hope, with sails billowing behind it. Bee was almost glad they’d been found out. If the men had discovered them any later, they really would've been dropped in the middle of nowhere. At least they weren’t too far from the shore. Or from a town, even.
Focus. Get to Noah first. Survive later. It wasn’t a great idea, but she couldn’t think of anything else. She awkwardly swung their violently orange saving grace in front of her and kicked, pushing it forward like a boogie board. It cut through the water more or less, but slowed her down. Still, it was something to hold onto. She braced herself against the life vest as the waves tried to tear her away. Then it bumped into something solid. Bee peered over the top and her heart gave a painful jolt of relief. "Noah!"
He was struggling to swim. Hurt somehow. She couldn’t see where. He’d been down here longer than she had, if only by a few minutes, but was tiring quickly. Bee had to make a fast decision. She was lighter, and had more stamina. He was injured, so that would cost him valuable energy. They couldn’t share the life vest without him shocking her, so he would have to take it. Maybe she could still hold onto the life vest? If it wasn’t touching him directly, it might not shock her. Probably best not to risk it. She'd swim behind him while he kicked with his legs and the waves would push them both ashore. When they got to land, they’d assess the damage. Maybe someone in town could help Noah. She just had to last that long.
Her friend was shouting something at her, but she had trouble hearing him. “I’m behind you!” She hollered back. “I -- what?” She tried to swim closer, and nearly struck him with her free arm.
“I can’t keep this up much longer,” he was saying. His voice seemed to be growing weaker. “Put that on. Make me turn off the shock so we can swim together.” He jerked his head at the life vest. He was barely keeping his chin above the water, and seemed to be using only one arm to support himself.
“Are you CRAZY?” Bee demanded, her fear giving way to anger. “You put the life vest on! You’re the one who’s hurt.” He lifted his chin bravely above the water, fixing his eyes on her. She could only stare back at him, forgetting to tread water for a second until another wave crashed over them.
Bee couldn’t remember it just then, but she’d used her power on him before. Six times. It was always harder with him, somehow. She hadn’t figured out why yet, and was hoping that was one of the questions this mysterious ymbryne could answer. If the ymbryne even existed. She thought it was more difficult for her to influence him because they were friends. Whenever she stretched her mind into his, it was like some invisible force field was pushing back on her, crackling with strange energy. Bee guessed that it might be his powers that made it trickier for her to control him, but she really didn’t know. The few times she’d done it before had been for emergency purposes. She’d only been able to keep her hold on him a few minutes, but each time she did it, she was able to control him longer. Bee still felt incredibly guilty about it.
This likely counted as such an emergency. Things would go a lot quicker and easier if she just forced him to turn off his powers. But Bee felt even worse about doing this to him while he was hurt. She had no idea what effect it had on him, or his brain. He’d never told her. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she could use her ability right now. She was too scared and angry and tired. No, they couldn’t afford to waste time fussing about with her powers or arguing. “Take it,” she said forcefully, and shoved the life vest at him. “Please.” She would influence him only as a last resort. “I will be okay. Promise.”
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jul 10, 2018 12:48:40 GMT -5
[ yo sorry I know you responded, but I've been busy helping my mom prep for my brother's grad party on saturday and working double shifts most days since I got back from camping on wednesday but I will def try to respond before saturday!! <33 hope you're having a good summer ]
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Post by 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 on Jul 20, 2018 10:36:06 GMT -5
Despite the ocean’s spray in his eyes and the dull ache pulsating down his arm, he saw Bee’s face and almost forgot to kick his feet to stay above the surface. Her eyes were wide with terror, the kind that was reserved for terrible, life-threatening situations. This was definitely one of those situations. Without really realizing it, thoughts of death were running rampant through their minds, as if it was a fact. It was so close it was almost tangible. One could argue that the water would embrace them like any parent might have, with a gentleness and peace found only beneath the raging surface. I don’t want that. Focus.
Bee’s expression changed to one of anger upon hearing his words. Her response, however, was lost between the waves that continually tried to take them. His ears were clapped relentlessly, so he only caught part of what she was saying. He was crazy, she said. She had a point: his was a dumb idea, but it was hard to think of any good ideas when he was on the verge of drowning.
Noah kicked harder, his legs straining to keep his weight upright in unfamiliar territory. Pushing his good arm down, up, down, up, all just to keep his head above water for more than thirty seconds. Bee pushed the orange vest at him, and there was no argument to be had. She was right, as usual. And she promised. She’ll be okay. Noah told himself this ten times as he reached for the vest, wanting to believe it. She was lighter than he was, and naturally a better swimmer, though not so much as to make him feel good about taking the life-vest. The best she could do was probably float easier than he could. Better than nothing. Noah looped his good arm through, and tried to do the same with the other, but even moving his elbow away from his side brought the pain to an unbearable, knife-like sharpness. He rolled onto his side so the vest was mostly beneath him, taking in as much air as he could despite the sloshing water over his face.
Glancing sideways at Bee, treading water beside him, he couldn’t imagine what he would do if he lost her to the sea. How could he help her if she became so tired she sank? Of course, he would abandon the life-vest and ignore the pain in his shoulder, even give his life to get her back to the surface. But that wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it. As they started kicking toward the blurry bumps of their country’s hills, Noah kept looking over at her to make sure she was still there. She seemed to be doing fine, and they soon found something resembling a pattern in the waves, kicking between the swells and saving their energy as they were carried up and over the crests of the waves.
The grey dusk faded until the sky above them was as dark as the sea beneath them. Eventually, Noah had wordlessly handed the other side of the vest to Bee so she could hook her arm through it, only half afraid this would shock her but mostly afraid of not knowing if she went under without looking back every two minutes. Nothing happened when she grabbed the vest, and in this way, they managed to share it without touching each other, stretching it between them as they went, always forward but never appearing to get any closer. That, Noah thought, must be the trick of the ocean. He caught glimpses of stars reflected in the water, but when he looked up, a cloud had covered them again, or the reflection was washed into his face with the salt water, making him cough.
They swam in silence, knowing not to waste their energy on words. The only sounds came from the ocean, tossing its waves and making them feel as if they were caught in a bubble, occasionally broken by an unseen gull overhead. It might have been hours later that they noticed the progress they had made. What was once no more than a blob on the horizon now had rocky beaches and a jetty stretched out to meet them. Ballycastle, or so he hoped. They were past the point of exhaustion, swimming on instinct and the joy of being almost there.
They reached the pier first, but they quickly discovered it was situated high above their heads, and the water still too deep to stand. The current near the shore was strong, and Bee was nearly slammed into him, swept over as soon as they were able to put their feet down. Noah let go of the orange vest, jumping out her way by stepping back. She resurfaced, gasping, and he resisted the urge to pick her up. He couldn’t even offer her his hand in assistance, and he settled for, “you’re okay,” though it came out as a question. They stumbled out of the dying waves, the cold air creeping into them like jellyfish pushed ashore, collapsing on the rough stones and pebble-strewn sand. For some time Noah lay there panting, his arm numb, fighting to keep his eyes open as everything in his body was ready to shut down and be frozen by the cool night air on his wet clothes.
Come on, get up. Noah sat up with some effort, wincing. His sore muscles resisted every move, but he shifted onto his knees.
“Bee,” he said softly, barely audible with the waves crashing against the shore. “Bee, let’s go.” Had they been eight or nine, he would have put a hand on her shoulder and shook her playfully to get her attention. Now, all he had was his voice, which was low with fatigue and worry. They had survived the sea, but he had to get her someplace warm. He looked at her with a sadness that only came from thinking you did something wrong. He was exhausted, but guilty at the thought that she hadn’t had the life-vest the entire time and was probably completely drained.
Their energy spent, running on waning adrenaline reserves, they stood. Noah turned to look at the ocean. The orange life-vest was bobbing up and down in the shallow water as they walked away from it, into the small town of Ballycastle. The ocean was vast; it could have been any time out there, but here, it was around midnight. The cobblestone streets were empty but for old, ornate street lamps stationed at regular intervals on the sidewalk. It was windy here too, because it was so close to the sea, and Noah was soon shivering nonstop. He walked as close to Bee as he dared, always, though perhaps subconsciously alert in case one of them tripped or stumbled into the other. He had an idea for how to fix his shoulder, but he realized his idea was shot without their backpack. And the book. That book was their saving grace, as far as he was concerned, and it was gone.
Trying to hold on to a thought for more than a minute was impossible. All he could think was, cold. It was cold out. They passed countless shops with black windows, walking without a clue where they would find shelter in a strange town. Noah was considering breaking into one of these storefronts when a figure stepped out of the shadows between two buildings in front of them. It didn’t seem to notice them at first, just two shadows standing on the other side of a streetlamp, but then it hesitated before approaching them.
It was a boy, about their age, carrying what appeared to be a bag of ice. He stopped a safe distance away, eyeing Noah and Bee.
“Are..are you two alright?”
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