She's given her a pair of shoes.
Converse, high tops, galaxy; she's seen them before, behind glass windows, perched up on tables beside a neat little tent displaying a price that's always kept her from purchasing them. But there's no glass window, no shiny, polished table, no price tag. There's just a pair of fingers, trembling ever so slightly, holding the shoes by their intertwined laces.
Michelle raises her eyes, feeling all at once guarded, and just stares.
Shuri flicks her eyes away and tosses the shoes onto Michelle's bed, then turns and makes her way over to the closet in the corner. They're supposed to be sharing it, but, in all honesty, Shuri's a princess, and Michelle's been living on the streets for nearly twelve years now; there's not much to share.
"Consider it a peace offering", Shuri calls out over her shoulder as she begins hanging up her clothes. "I figured you could do with some."
Michelle's cheeks go cold, and she resists the urge to look down. Three years, she's been wearing the same ratty sneakers, with the soles long since having gone floppy and the laces flaky and brown from days spent trekking through the mud. She knows she should ditch them, knows it'd be easy to conjure a shadow over a camera and snatch a pair. But she's grown rather fond of them. And even if she hadn't, Michelle's never been much a fan of handouts, much less those of a princess.
Nonetheless, she does offer them a glance as she settles in the bay window and stares out at the city milling below her. She pushes open the window, looking, through her periphery, at the shoes and feeling deeply unsettled by their presence. It's not the feeling that comes with owing a debt; Shuri has more than enough money, so it's not like she went out of her way to get them. No, this is a different feeling.
Not wildly unpleasant, but not exactly welcome either.
So Michelle leaves them on the bed, wrapping her arms around herself as she stares up at the storm clouds gathering over the city. Behind her, Shuri continues emptying out her suitcases. She finishes about an hour later, sighing as she rises to her feet and starts for the door. Before she can leave, though, Michelle clears her throat and turns to look at her.
Shuri pauses in the doorway, craning her head to catch her eye. She leans against the frame, lifts an eyebrow, and makes a face as if to say, "What?"
Michelle blinks. She wraps her arms tighter around herself, turns back to face the window, and purses her lips. "Thank you."
For a moment, Shuri just lingers, halfway in, halfway out. Then, making a noise low in her throat, she takes a step back until she's all the way out. "You're welcome", she says. And then she's gone, leaving behind flakes of coral and droplets of water in her wake.
Michelle flicks her eyes back to the bed, where her clean, new pair of sneakers sit, almost glistening in light from the ceiling lamp precariously attached to the ceiling. Faintly, she feels a sense of nostalgia, an almost want to scramble from the lumpy cushions of the bay window and over to the bed, just to touch, to feel, to inspect, to make sure they're truly real, and, if so, to run after Shuri and confirm that they are, indeed, hers and not merely one of the princess's infamous pranks.
In the end, she doesn't do any of that. She just presses her side against the glass, closes her eyes, and drifts into a light sleep, comforted by the feel of shadows descending upon the earth at the approach of night.
. . .
"Michelle, isn't it?"
Michelle looks up from the floor, drawing back her shoulders and squaring her feet. Beside her, a girl in a floral nightgown lifts and shows her palms, tilting her head by way of peace.
"Just asking a question", she defends, tapping her fingers against the box in her hands. "I've never seen you around here before."
Michelle hears the statement for what it is, and more importantly, what it implies: "are you supposed to be here?"; she got the debriefing the night before. Most of the Agents here, they're suspicious, what with the recent cases of Terrestrials dabbling in the arts of magic. Not quite enough to warrant a meeting of the High Ranks but just enough to out everyone else on edge.
"I'm new" she eventually, shrugging in what she hopes is a calming manner. "Just got shipped out from the Equator, on a Cease and Contain Assignment."
"You'll have to excuse Ava", says the girl exiting the shower hall, rolling her eyes as she tucks her toothbrush into her own box. "She's something of a paranoid."
"Well, Cindy, these days, I kind of have to be", Ava drawls as she presses her back to the wall. Then she turns back to Michelle and says, "You know how Terrestrials are. And with their recent advancements in technology-"
"They're worse now than ever", Michelle finishes feebly. She should know. She's spent a good half of her life living amongst them before she got sucked into the Agency. "What's with the boxes" she asks.
"Oh. Uh, well, there isn't exactly a huge supply cleaning products. Everyone just brings their own." She looks down at Michelle's hands, which hold nothing but the government-issued towel and washcloth, then turns to look away, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, usually."
"Right", Michelle mutters, her shoulders slooping.
The line inches along, with three entering the halls at a time. The closer they get, the muggier the air grows, and the more heavy Michelle feels. It's just a shower. Most of her life, she would have killed for a shower, or at least a dip in the river without worry of being filmed by some hidden peeper. Now, she has the chance, and she can't help feeling like she's back in her Astral jail cell, walking down the halls towards Odin's courtroom. At last, just before it's her group's turn to enter the showers, Ava fishes a small, lumpy bar of soap out of her box and passes it to Michelle.
Michelle thumbs the piece of soap, her body going lax as she breathes in and is suddenly surrounded by the scent of vanilla. She looks up, a "Thank you" ready to fall off her tongue, when she realizes Ava's already walked into the showers.
Her time comes shortly afterwards. While she ducks into the closest available stall, she, like always, has that urge to be quick, constantly looking over her shoulders and having her ears at the ready. She turns the knobs jutting from the walls, though, and realizes as she begins to wash herself with her pity soap that there's no need to be quick. The only thing she's in danger of is some mild gossip about a Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes and some spoilers of a TV show she could never afford to watch.
Nonetheless, Michelle still finds herself showering quickly, and by the time she's gotten out, just ten minutes have passed. She has no clean pair of clothes, so she just slips back into her jogging pants and denim jacket.
On the way out, she bumps into Ava. Michelle goes to thank her again, but Ava just gives her a tired smile, waves her hand, and invites her to sit with her friend at breakfast.
. . .
Astrals usually don't need to eat, but those at the Estates are, for the most part, still "infants" and growing, so skipping breakfast isn't an option. Not when their bodies are still burning maliciously through their mana and energy supplies.
"Luke got his Discharged papers", says the yellow-haired boy at her table . He smiles, scoops a mouthful of oatmeal into his mouth, and shakes his head. "He deserves it. He really put in a lot of work this year."
"Luke got into trouble for putting a Terrie in a hospital", Ava explains to Michelle. "He was defending another Terrie, but...well, you know how the courts are."
Michelle nods, chewing tastelessly at the oatmeal in her mouth. Luke Cage. T'Challa sent her some articles about his case in preparation for her own, as a sort of head's up for what was to come. He's not of the Shadow Dimension like her, but he is of her Department, which, she supposes, would explain the harsh sentencing.
Six years at the Heartbreak Estates, working undercover at a nearby college as a Dorm Advisor. From what she's read, he didn't exactly "get with the program" for a good while, but she can't exactly blame him.
Just as she's about to offer an abrupt change in conversation, Michelle's gaze flicks to the main entrance as Shuri pushes opens the doors and steps into the cafeteria. Their eyes meet for but a second before Michelle averts her gaze, turning her attention onto a non-suspecting garbage can beneath the windows. Shuri lingers, still starting, before eventually resuming her walk over to a table on the other side of the room.
"Why is Shuri here", Michelle blurts out before she can really think more on it. Ava and Danny both look at her, startled. Not allowing the moment to stretch longer, she then takes a bite of her biscuit and says, "Princess Shuri. Have you guys...heard anything?"
"Uh." Danny scratches the back of his head. "Well, pretty much what everyone else has heard. One of her experiments got on the High Ranks' radar, and, apparently, they didn't like it." He looks at her then, as if awaiting further explanation.
"She's my roommate", Michelle murmurs with a nonchalant shrug. "I was just curious."
Danny and Ava exchange a look, but they don't say anything. Then she tells Danny to pass her the pepper, and the conversation dawdles on.
"I know it doesn't look like much", Ava says, absentmindedly poking at a pancake. "But it's really not that bad."
Michelle lifts her eyebrows, thinking of the leaky roof in her closet and the main entrance's door, which had fallen after just one light knock. "Really?"
"Okay, so maybe we're not in the running with the Galaxies for Coolest Astral Youth Rehab of the year. But you know what we do have?"
"Termites?"
Ava tosses a crusty hashbrown at Danny, then turns back to Michelle. "The best turnout rate for rehabilitated Astrals in the city. Everyone at Galaxies turns out worse than they went in."
Michelle snorts. "Well, what do you expect? If the people running it weren't Seniors, they'd probably be bunking with us."
"Maybe", Danny says, sighing dramatically. "They always seem to have a better Spirit turnout at the End of the Year Jubilee though."
Ava gives him half a shrug, then turns her attention back to her stack of pancakes. Michelle sets her biscuit down on her plate, wipes some cheese from her lip, and brings her hands onto the table, taking advantage of the lull in conversation to observe the room.
Per the norm, there's more Agents of the Valentine's Day Department than anything else; they're at the head of every table, practically radiating with affection and self-assuredness. They tend to clique with the Evergreens, though there is the occasionally New Year's sitting along with them. All in all, it's much like what Michelle's grown used to seeing, with the Departments like Halloween and April Fool's sitting on the outer sides of the room.
"How are things here", Michelle asks. "Department wise, I mean?"
Danny purses his lips. "Uh, not too bad. Me and Ava get a few 'Eggheads' a day, but that's about it. I, er, can't say too much about Halloweenies, though. We don't get too many of you guys here."
Yeah. We usually get worse than Estate detail.
"Guess it's a good thing you and Shuri got roomed together", Ava offers with a polite smile. "I've heard it's easier getting the feel of Estates when your roommate is of your Department."
Michelle smiles back. "Yeah, maybe." She could tell them, tell them that her peers doesn't treat her any better than the Agency treats the Halloween Department , but she doesn't see the point in kicking up waves in an already delicate conversation.
Breakfast passes, and Michelle offers her input every now and again, relaxing as she realizes she could grow to like these two. But throughout the meal, she feels her eyes drifting frequently to where Shuri sits amongst the few other Agents of Halloween. And, just once, she could swear that Shuri was looking back.
. . .
For those of age, there's a lot of free time at the Estates, given that they don't have to attend school. The first few weeks, Michelle spends most of her time in her room, manipulating shadows and peering into her Dimension when she finds the need. Eventually, she grows tired of that and takes to the streets, acquainting herself with the city and its shadows.
In all her time spent roaming the country, she's never been to New York. Maybe it was the noise, or maybe it was the caution that came with knowing it was teeming with Agency activity, but she just never found the urge to. Now that she's here, though, she has to admit that she can see the appeal.
There are a lot of alleyways here, as there often are in big cities; to the average tourist, they'd be something to avoid, something to mark for the sole purpose of remembering to avoid. Michelle does the opposite. She goes to these alleys, always looking over her shoulder, always wary of prying eyes, be they Astral or Terrestrial. But most days, she finds herself alone and stepping into the alleys, sighing deeply as the sudden absence of light floods her senses. It doesn't matter how much time has passed. It's been too long.
She wasn't meant for this Dimension. The longer she stays here, the more drained she feels, the more she loses her touch. Casting a shadow becomes a royal pain, and keeping her eyes open for more than a few hours becomes a next-to-impossible feat. Returning home, to her real home, isn't an option, so Michelle opts for alleyways and sewers and abandoned buildings, where she can be left alone to marinate in the cloaks of darkness they provide. It isn't anywhere close to the real thing, but she's used to having to deal without.
On one such day, returning from a midday-nap in a dilapidated pizza parlor, she finds herself aching, deep to her core, with the need to tear a hole in the wispy fabric of this Dimension and leave everything behind. It's a familiar feeling, more familiar than almost anything she's ever known. Times like this, Michelle feels heavy, heavy like she's miles and miles beneath water, chained to the oceanfloor and staring up at the surface, where the sun is bright enough for her to see but too far away to touch.
It never lasts. A minute, maybe three, and then it's gone, leaving Michelle leaning against a nearby wall for purchase, for something to keep her grounded, keep her surfaced. Today, it's much the same, with Michelle inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of expired spices and decaying wood to reacquaint herself with her surroundings.
Somedays, she hates it. But on others, when she already felt like she was drowning and her lungs on the verge of collapse, she welcomes it, as you would an old friend that's never treated you well. Today is one of those days, and, by the time she finally works up the courage to leave the parlor and start the walk to the Estates, Michelle feels like she's dragging weights along with her. But even that eventually fades, and she turns in, snuggled deep beneath her covers and feeling all too aware of the body just a few yards away.
. . .
It takes Michelle another three weeks to finally get up the nerve to talk to Shuri. She's staring at her pair of Converse, tucked safely underneath her meager bag of clothes, when Shuri barges into the room, eyes downcast as she marches towards the desk in the corner. Before she can leave back out, Michelle calls out, "Wait!", leaps from her bed, and darts in front of her. Shuri inhales, takes a step back, and narrows her eyes. Michelle pushes tugs at her hair and bites her lip.
"Yes", Shuri prompts, halfway tilting her head.
Michelle blinks and wraps her arms around herself. "I just...wanted you to know you don't have to leave." Shuri raises an eyebrow, so she continues on. "Whenever I'm here. You don't have to leave. Or if you want, I can leave, and you can have the room to yourself, I don't mind."
As she's speaking, bubbles of water have begun to form around Shuri's head; the whites of her eyes have become speckled with blue, and when she moves, it's like watching water, fluid and otherworldly, almost like something out of her Dimension. Michelle shakes the thought away, but by then, Shuri's face has contorted with something like guilt, and she's reached out a hesitant hand as if to touch her. She doesn't.
"I didn't", she begins, then breaks off, shaking her head as if frustrated with herself. "I'm sorry, I'm just…" She wipes a hand over her face and sighs. "I'm not used to having a roommate. I don't really know how to do", she gestures between them. "This."
Well, that Michelle can relate to. "If it helps", she says with a sly smile. "I've never roomed with a princess."
Shuri rolls her eyes, then gives her a light shove. "Ha ha, very funny." Her shoulders relax, and she places her hands on her hips, watching Michelle uncertainly before eventually saying, "I got a hint on our C&C case. Wanna come with?"
Michelle smiles. "Sure."