Alright alright alright, okay. Yeah. OC fic. I know, I know. I'm not setting a deadline for myself on this one because 1: I have another fic going. 2: I wrote a first draft out and now I'm redoing the whole story. That first draft sucked, man.
I want my OC to be as believable as freakin' possible. So let me know. Also, let me know if you like the story. Let me know if you don't. Let me know if you had an awesome tasting donut. Really, I want to know about that. I'm a donut connoisseur.
The metal tube of Felicia's striped umbrella smacked into the side of her glasses. As she readjusted them on her face, she wondered why she had even chosen to open it in the first place. The large white snowflakes did not soak her black wool coat like rain would. The green light stopped her from putting away the umbrella and forced her to cross the wide street. A yellow cab stopped just short of hitting Felicia as it skidded to a stop, another driver honked and leaned out his window to whistle, apparently liking what he saw. She did not turn to face him, her light brown cheeks burning, too embarrassed. She continued to flush as she walked down the street to her rowhouse. After fumbling with her keys for a bit, she managed to finally open the door and enter the tiny vestibule. The tiny painted tiles that cut the walls in half always made her cringe and today was no different. The thought of how tacky they were flickered in her mind as she dropped the umbrella and shrugged off her coat. Felicia kicked off her boots next to a much larger pair set in the corner. A man's black leather coat told her immediately that her brother was more than likely sitting on her couch, eating her food, watching her tv. Correction, her logical side kicked in, her half brother. She checked the front door again to make sure she locked it before entering the living room. If she were a gambling gal, she would be counting her winnings. He was sprawled out, sans pants, on her weathered sofa. His tall frame left his feet dangling off the other arm rest. A grease stained empty paper plate sat on his chest and his arm outstretched towards the television, remote in hand.
"You, Ethan, are the biggest mooch in the existence of mooches, you know that right?" His reply was only a shrug of the arm holding the remote. The plate slid off and he made no attempt to stop it from falling. Felicia could only sigh and ask what kind of beer he had brought this time. It was the only thing he ever provided to her. She was perfectly capable of buying it herself, she just had trouble choosing. The thought of the last time she went to a beer distributor and the hour she spent walking in circles, not able to make up her mind, made her glad he was tasked with that job. He had bought Kenzinger, saying it was to remind them of home and living in New York could be too much sometimes. Felicia made her way to the kitchen, her refrigerator old but still working, but stopped as she looked over the room.
The kitchen was in need of some serious work. The floor tiles were cracked, some missing entirely, the marble counters stained and the stove- It worked, that was all she would allow herself to think about. She grabbed two beers, twisted off the caps and returned to the living room. Thankfully, there was a faded lounge chair she never seemed to sit in, expect during her brother's visits, adjacent to the couch. She handed him a beer and he muted the tv to gain her full attention.
"I'm gonna go see my mom tomorrow. She asked if you were coming." Felicia snorted, she had no malice towards his mother but the whole situation was pretty odd. They had both grown up knowing that his mother and her father had not been married, that they had not even been together romantically. It was only an agreement, with her mother's consent, to give Ethan's mother a child. It had not been that weird when she was younger but now it gave her the creeps.
"What did you tell her?" Truthfully, she had no interest in going. He starred at her with his hazel eyes, still lying down on the couch, face devoid of any emotion. Felicia's brows furrowed as she returned his gaze with the same eyes, she hated when he did that.
"It wasn't really a question. She said she has some things to talk to you about that your parents didn't before-" His voice trailed off, knowing he had just stepped into uncharted territory. She waved off his obvious embarrassment at the mention of her parents. They had died over two years ago and she had carried on, just as she had promised them she would. The pain had dulled over the years and she did her best not to think too much about it. She finally planted herself in the faded chair and took a swig of the beer still in her hand while Ethan shuffled awkwardly into a seated position.
"So... how was your day?" She chuckled at his question. He never asked before, his embarrassment too much to bare. She shrugged her shoulders, "Just another day in New York."
Felicia flicked on the lights to the bathroom. The room was in the same state as the kitchen, the sink yellowed and the blue wallpaper peeling. Facing the mirror, she pulled her curly hair from her face, the black strands of her roots turned to a reddish brown during its length. A mental note was made to redye it and to do so soon. She continued her examination with her eyes, pulling her eyelids away and inspecting the whites. When she was satisfied with that, she checked her irises. The light brown had dark gold flecks embedded in it. Felicia had always considered her eyes to be her most interesting body parts. She removed her shirt and unclasped her bra. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth as the weight of her breasts was released. They were certainly large and she was often approached by men simply based on this fact but she was grateful she did not inherit her mother's even larger bust. The pouch on her caramel skinned stomach reminded her that she was not the thin wisp she once was. She grabbed an old t-shirt and pulled it over her head before leaving the bathroom. Ethan was still downstairs, opting to sleep on the sofa after so many beers.
"Lisha! Fell-lee-sha!" She smirked at his drunken calling. He had set up her laptop to play some music, much louder than she or her neighbors would have liked. She made her way down the stairs and stopped midway, grasping the railing at the scene before her. His shirt had been discarded as he danced wildly on her couch, now only in his boxers, mouth miming the words of the song. He only stopped to hold a hand out, inviting her to join him.
"Come on girly. Get your ass over here" Her logical mind told her to go to sleep, it was a 2 hour drive back to his mother's house in Philadelphia but he had started playing dubstep. It was then the emotional mind told the logical side to stop worrying so damn much and have some fun.
Felicia woke in her bed, something she was not expecting to do after all the shots she ended up drinking. There was more than likely a nasty letter or two taped to her front door from her neighbors. She was glad, however, that her drunken self had the foresight to close the drapes before passing out. The lack of energy kept her from getting up so she decided to just roll over and hope some coffee would appear on her nightstand. Just before she drifted back off to sleep, her brother stumbled into the room, sunglasses on and coffee in hand.
"Let's go girly. We gots to get. Gonna be late." She marveled at his recovery time through half lidded eyes.
"I didn't even know I had that much liquor in the house," Ethan handed her the drink before taking off the sunglasses, "How much did we drink?" His brows furrowed at the question.
"You know I stop counting after the 8th beer. I think we did Irish car bombs and then you made California cocaines." Felicia may not have remembered drinking that much but the churning in her stomach gave her a good idea. She mustered her best pitiful face and shot it at her brother, "Carry me?" His laugh echoed around her bedroom as he clutched his stomach.
"Not happening."
Felicia checked her purse once more to make sure she had everything she needed. Keys, phone, car keys, and she felt like she was forgetting something but was not certain what it was. She dismissed it and closed the prelocked front door behind her, Ethan was already waiting outside her car.
"You, sir, are useless. You caught the bus here and now I have to drive your ass to your mom's. Want me to go to your classes, do all your homework and take all your tests as well?"
"Would you?" His face brightened at her, obviously mocking her mocking. She rolled her eyes and unlocked her black Mini Cooper. It was currently the only thing in New York that she owned that was not completely broken down or dilapidated and she made sure to keep it that way. With them both seated in her car, he gestured to her white dress peaking out of the bottom of her black coat, "What's with the princess dress? All that lace. Doesn't seem like something you'd wear." She put the key in the ignition and stopped to look at him, face devoid of any emotion. He would be getting a taste of his own medicine if she could ever figure out how he did it so well. He was right though, it was not her usual style. She had just been in the Macy's downtown and saw it, the lace sleeves and the fishtail skirt. There was a million other things in the world that she could have bought but that dress had out weighed them all at the time.
"So since you didn't bring your car, how did you expect to get back here?" She waited patiently for an answer that was muttered too quietly for her ears, something about getting her to do it. Figuring out one of his trick always seemed to make him shut up for a while. He ran a hand through his curly black hair and stared out the window, the sun washing the color from his skin as it beamed into the car. Felicia was glad the snow from last night had no accumulated into anything of concern. She was sure neither one of them would want to do any shoveling or salting, regardless of still being hungover. With the key turned, the car on and the traffic light, there were no hiccups during the drive. They had even stopped at a Starbucks for more sorely needed caffeine. Ethan picked up a newspaper and forced Felicia to buy it for him while they were waiting for their coffee. The headlines read something about Iron Man and saving some people or something or other, at least that was the gist she chose to go with. She tended not to listen to all the "superhero" news, preferring things that regular humans had done to improve the world. Ethan had made an argument before that Tony Stark was a regular human that had built a "super" suit of armor and that was why he should matter to her everyday life. She wrinkled her nose just thinking of that whole conversation. Her everyday life was spent getting her second degree and becoming a pharmacist, not much time left to waste on hero worship. She had paid for the paper but took a hearty sip of his caramel macchiato as payment.
The narrow streets of Philadelphia always seemed to put a scowl on Felicia's face. The parking was just as bad as New York and after twenty minutes of circling the block, she caved and pulled into a lot. Spending 9 dollars for a half and hour meant she would have to make sure this visit was short. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan open his mouth. She stopped him before he could make a sound, "I'm not getting double parked into the sidewalk again. And then I got a ticket. A ticket. For what? Being the only fucking car to park legally?" His chuckling lasted all the way to the front door.
Ethan's mother was a nice enough woman, Felicia never thought too much about it though. Her own parents had limited how much time she was allowed to spend at her house but not with Ethan in general. It had been at least seven years since she had walked up the cement steps in the average working class neighborhood to the slightly rusted white storm door. The second floor hung over the top of the door, joining the neighboring house to make enclosure big enough to fit a loveseat.
"Remember we would sit out here when it was raining and play Pokemon on our Gameboys?" She threw her head back in laughter at the image of them huddled in a corner together, even though there was enough space for them and four more kids.
"I remember you wanted me to trade my Charizard for your shit Pikachu. Didn't even evolve that thing into a Raichu." It was his turn to laugh as he pulled out his house keys. The storm door guarded a oddly tall wooden one, put in after Ethan's last growth spurt. It just reminded her how much taller, a lanky 6'4, he had become while she was still only an average 5'6. His mother was a mirror of Ethan when she came home yesterday, except she still had her pants on, something Felicia was grateful for. Her black hair an inky pool covering a pillow and her pale skin stood out starkly against the red sofa. She sat up slowly, bones cracking slightly and faced them. Felicia never remembered her being so, her logical mind could not stop the word old from popping up. Black circles and bags underneath her eyes, her cheeks sagged, it was hard to believe this was a woman of only fifty three years. A smile lifted the woman's features slightly, "Haven't seen you in a while, Fel. All grown up and whatnot." The grin that appeared on Felicia's face was one of extreme strain, it was hard seeing Ethan's mother like this.
"I'm sick, if Than didn't tell you. He didn't, did he?" She could see why he would elect not to, "Well, you all are lucky. Can't get sick and all. Your mom did me a solid with that one." Felicia sighed at the mention of her mother. It was true, Ethan and her did not get sick, which made for perfect attendance at school. They only missed school in sixth grade when a blizzard dropped 36 inches on the city.
"She was the best. Really, the best out of all of them." Even after all the coffee, Felicia's stomach still turned violently. Her mother was a geneticist who specialized in human DNA, world renowned and completely in love with what she did.
"Your father, he could probably help me out right about now. Big C ain't no joke. It's-" The older woman paused, lost in contemplation if she should continue. It was hard not to notice Felicia's hands balled into fists and her jaw ridged. Ethan had taken a seat and fiddled with his phone, trying to read emails and block out the conversation. His eyes flickering over the words of a report but could not really see them. His mother pointed over to the top of the fatback tv, a plain brown box sat atop it, the name "Michelle" scrawled on the side, "Take that. Read it at their house. I would say more but I feel... Well, it's just not my place to say. Now, who wants to cook me some dinner?" The sudden turn in mood was just a quirk Felicia admired about this woman.
Felicia's parents' house was only a few blocks over but there was a noticeable difference in the styling of the rowhouses. The bricks were not faded, the sidewalk not cracked, less trash in the street and the cars parked outside were much more expensive. Everything around screamed upper class and her specific street was at the top of the class. They were only two blocks away from Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia's most expensive neighborhood in terms of rent. After entering the house and depositing the box in the vestibule, she took a look around. Two years of being completely empty and it still looked as stuffy as she remembered. When she was 16, her parents were featured in the city's magazine for their skills and having the most beautiful home in the city. In her opinion, it was too much like living in a hotel and not an actual home. Even the pictures hanging from the walls, pictures of them all together seem staged. The living room held a very expensive mod styled couch, Felicia remembered how her mother had screamed when she found Felicia eating ice cream on it, and matching accent chairs. There was no television, something else all of the houses in the magazines shared, but a fireplace sat in its' place. She made no move to enter the room, just stared at it from the hallway, it would feel like trespassing anyways.
She looked up and felt the same dizziness she always have when she was younger. The staircase spiraled up for three floors, the white spokes of the railing made a mind bending design. Stopping herself before she actually got sick, she moved to the kitchen. The only thing not picturesque was the mummified fruit sitting in a glass bowl on the kitchen island. It had been there since the last time she visited, for the funeral. After tossing it, her eyes turned to the modern sliding door at the back of the kitchen and the garden outside. The garden was not a large one, it was still in the confines of the city, but Ethan's house only had a patio that they had to share with their neighbor. The neighbor next door was an old woman and she had kept the potted plants watered and the ivy and tree pruned, even after her parents had died. A gift basket would show the woman Felicia's appreciation. Specks of white snow floated down from the gray sky and Felicia decided against going outside, opting to read whatever was in that box in her old room.
It was just like she left it. The obnoxiously large picture of herself, from when she thought she wanted to be a model, stared back on the back of the door. The sheets on her bed were a green plaid and her pillow a hot pink, one phase mixed with another. Art supplies, pens, markers and a stack of sketchbooks littered the floor. She had forgotten how much of a slob she used to be but the sketchbooks brought back memories of her dream to be an animator. That had fallen by the wayside when she wanted to impress her parents more and enter the medical field, like them. They were astonished, to say the least. They would support whatever it was that she set her mind to but animating was the one thing she was sure about. Her uncoerced change worried them but they eventually relented and let her move to New York.
The contents of the box were dusty and the papers yellowed. From what Felicia could make out from the not faded ink, it was research papers, her mother's no doubt. The box had her mother's name on it after all. It was common knowledge that Felicia and Ethan were genetically modified, it was one thing they had told her early on. Michelle took her to conventions, showed her off, her genetic code was known by all the top researchers. She would age slower and be unaffected by diseases and viruses but at the same time, her body did not respond to any known medicine. Michelle had kept one thing hidden though, buried in these boxes. Felicia groaned, if she knew her mother, it would be on the last piece of paper she could look at.
Ethan locked the door behind him and glanced around Felicia's house. Her wool coat hung from a coat rack and her boots were placed carefully underneath, lining up perfectly. Her old habits only surfaced whenever she came back to this house. He found her in her room, sitting on her bed, glasses skewed and a frown on her face.
"What's up, girly? Find out anything cool?" She fixed her glasses on her face and looked up at him, "We're part alien or mutant or whatever Æsir is. I don't even know if I'm saying that right." Ethan folded his arms across his chest and smirked.
"So that's why I'm so good lookin' huh?"
"You are literally the most insufferable person ever." He sucked his teeth and shoved most of the papers off the bed, "Hatin' gets you no where, girly." She was quick to pinch his cheeks until his face turned red, his hands trying to swat her away.
"Wanna go get drunk again? I need a drink after today. We could call up that guy you had a crush on in high school. What was his name? Jeff? Tim? Kyle?" He may have not guessed the name but Felicia felt herself flush anyways. Her curly ombre hair flew wildly as she shook her head embarrassed. She looked away from him as a grin played at the ends of her mouth, "You know what I want to do? Eat ice cream on that fucking couch." Their laughter echoed around the empty house.
Opening the refrigerator for the fourth time and finding nothing to eat, Felicia resigned herself to ordering a cheesesteak and fries from "That Place on the Corner". Her decision was based solely on the name of the shop since she had never had anything from there before. Thoughts of the steak only made her stomach growl louder and she tried to occupy herself. Ethan had gone back to his mother's to make sure she fell asleep okay. She checked the refrigerator again, knowing that nothing had appeared or disappeared in the past half hour when a knock at the door came. It had only been ten minutes since she called in her order, not that she minded. The faster they delivered, the less time she spent being hungry. She checked out of the front window, there was no car blocking the street and it was too dark to make out more than just a figure at her door. Stranger danger crossed her mind as she opened up the door, the figure a man, dressed in golden armor. His chin square, eyes black and skin pale clashed with the bright color. A pale hand grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her out of the house. Her bare feet came in contact with the freezing cement ground, her toes curling.
"Felicia Taylor?" His tone of voice was demanding and his eyes piercing. Felicia did not respond, just nodded slightly, hoping this was a trick and he would just hand her the food now. Pulling her arm up with one hand, he quickly used the other to cover her mouth. The dizziness that came forced her to close her eyes. Her mind swirling made her knees weak, her body falling forward into the man's chest. Even if she could find the energy to open her eyes, she did not have enough to stop him from picking her up. Images tumbled around her thoughts as they grew weaker, her body going numb. The last conscious thread was wondering why, how and when had she become so weak.
Felicia's eyes opened to a dark room, enough light to make out the figure of a bed only a few feet away. The room was small and reminded her of a jail cell. She turned her head and was greeted with a wall missing, iron bars in its' place. Her first thought was right, she was imprisoned, a situation she had been in before. Geneticists from every part of the world wanted to find the secret her mother embedded in her body at any cost and Ethan had not been not an easy target. She remembered the training her parents had paid for, assessed the surroundings and tried not to panic.
There was nothing tethering her body to the ground, enabling her to stand up on her bare feet from the cold stone floor and feel her way around. She peeked around the corner of the wall, her face pressed against the bars and she could see multiple cells lined up across from her own. A wave of nausea washed over her, riding up her throat and making her mouth water. Her hand flew to cover her mouth before the bile could escape. After taking a few deep breaths and calming her stomach, Felicia sank to her knees with a groan. Whatever plan she could concoct would have to wait until she felt less green. She jumped with a start when something in the next cell clattered to the ground. The sick feeling dissipated as she clutched her heavily pounding heart. The dark and all its' sounds made it impossible for her to not panic. The sound of metal clanging together and hinges squealing brought another level of fear to Felicia. Whoever it was that was entering the jail was undoubtedly a threat to her safety. All she could hear was the heavy thumping of footsteps nearing.
"Wench! Arise, you are to be judged of your crime." Her eyes had adjusted but not enough to see the male owner of the voice. Whatever they wanted, she would comply until there was a way out, given or taken. She had no knowledge of the crime she was accused but she had a feeling it had to do with her being. A few years ago, a band of religious protesters stalked her, screaming how much of an unholy creation she was. All the attention she received as a child had deadened the initial shock, they only served to aggravate her. Whoever it was and however they could see her grabbed her arm, ringing the skin on her wrist. Her knees cracked slightly as she was pulled to her feet. A yelp came from her when he tied a cloth around her eyes, as if she could even see in this dark. His calloused hands scratched her the skin of her wrist again as she was forced to follow him. She could only feel the uneven stones of the floor beneath her feet and it soon changed to a smooth, hard texture. Her labored breathes began to echo, it became clear she was no longer in the dank prison.
"Wait, please." Felicia's voice came in whispered gasps, "I haven't done anything" She was not lying, at least about her recent activities. It had been quite a few years since her last brush with the law, street art was technically a crime but something told her she was not going to be judged on that. She received a snort and a yank to her arm for an answer. The padding of her bare feet was muffled by her jailer's stomping against what she assumed was marble. She was used to walking long distances, her feet were somehow sore already and the seemingly short walk made them burn with each step. When he finally stopped pulling her, something hit the back of her knees, making her fall forward. Her arms flew up to catch herself from falling on her face, her hands met the cold floor for only a second until a fistful of her bicolored hair was yanked back. The cloth covering her eyes was removed, she dared not open them fully. Wherever she had been taken was filled with light and gold. The precious metal reflected the light, making it even more intense. As her eyes adjusted slowly, a booming voice, one weathered from age, filled the room, "What is your name, woman?" Felicia covered her eyes with her hand and noticed her glasses were gone. Without them, she would be left squinting at everything smaller than her finger. She was shock, to say the least, when she make out everything clearly. The gold of the room was still quite overpowering but it matched the magnificent sight before her. She was kneeling at the base of a grand staircase, they curved into a gold crescent, an intricate throne sat at the top. The aged man that resided on the royal seat stared down at her, his eyes cold as the icy white of his long beard.
"Are you able to speak, woman?" She nodded numbly, her throat suddenly dry, "Felicia Taylor."
"Why have you chosen to disregard my ruling?" Her mouth gaped open, she had no clue what he spoke of.
"I-I don't know what it was. I can't follow something I know nothing about." The man's eyebrows dipped into a frown for only a second before his features softened slightly, "The years living amongst humans has had quite an effect. How long did you assume you could hide?" Her lips pursed, stopping herself from saying something brash. This man did not look to her like someone to offend.
"I'm only 25. I haven't been hiding. Can I just please go home?"
Thor gazed down from the side of the great throne at the woman on her knees as she pleaded, tears threatened to spill from her eyes the longer the conversation lasted. Her white lacey dress was stained with dirt and the trim was frayed and torn. A smudge of dirt was smeared across her light brown cheek while her shoulder length hair looked stringy. Even with her disheveled appearance, it was obvious she was born a beauty. She, an Asgardian, had broken Odin's ruling of withdrawing all contact with the other realms though and was now claiming to know nothing. Even though he did not know her, a small part of him wished her punishment not be too harsh.
Well? Well? Come on. Review? Donuts?