SotSofES
Malon Brogan itsurbroagain . 7m
the boy who was already free
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Qing never was one to cling to ritual, the strictly regulated regiment he had been forced into back in the lab pushing him to become as spontaneous as possible post-escape, a term he liked to use when referring to the first year and a half he had been free. The past two years had been a time that he reluctantly referred to as Hai-Noon, a phrase that one of the few mutants he had escaped with and still kept in contact with had dubbed him with. Personally he liked to think of this time as his 'golden age.'
He was set financially––thievery in the form of pick-pocketing was more profitable in a city such as Beijing than Qing had ever imagined––as well as in the housing-department, and was living comfortably with his angel of a boyfriend as well as their two short-legged dopy-faced dogs. Whenever Qing returned home from his daily outings, he was met with two––and sometimes, if he was lucky, three––sets of feet scampering across the hardwood floor towards him.
While he spent most of his days hopelessly trying to study at one of the local community colleges that specialized in liberal arts, Hai––his boyfriend––actually managed to maintain a well paying job all the while finishing up the last few years of his teaching degree. Already floundering as it was with both monetary support and attaining a higher education, Qing wasn't at all loathe to admit that Hau was the only thing that kept the two of them afloat through the last two years.
Although he had never been one to cling to ritual, Qing had recently found himself falling deeper and deeper into one. On Mondays he would go to two linguistics classes and a class on Middle Eastern literature at the local college before going out with a few of the people he shared a class with-usually to a small bakery a few blocks away from their college to study. On Tuesday's he would attend a class on French literature, then an Arabic class, followed by one in Greek and another in Latin. After this he would rush off to his boyfriend's workplace for a quick lunch that more often than not resulted in more shared kisses than Qing cared to admit when Jingyi––the only mutant he stayed in contact with––called later in that hour to catch up with him for the week. Once Jingyi finally hung up on him, he was more often than not late for his western philosophy case-something that he didn't mind too much since he spent most of the class passionately debating with the professor on what form of ethics best applied to certain books or articles that he was reading in other classes.
Wednesdays were filled with a tedious religious studies course that Qing would have dropped by now if it weren't for Hai's light encouragement whenever he complained about it coupled with long laughter filled study sessions with some students who he shared a literature class with as well. This often led to the group of them rushing off to the nearest frat-party until it was midnight and Qing had pushed away the third girl that had shoved up against him before finally waving himself off and rushing home to an already sleeping Hai. Thursdays and Fridays went down nearly identically-a calculus class that Qing would never understand, a chemistry course that made the mutant uncomfortable to a point where he actively skipped said class, and a class on Russian literature. After this he would go home and lay about with his dogs until Hai got home-oftentimes reading a book or two as he waited for him.
Saturdays and Sundays were spent doing whatever Hau wanted to do as Qing followed behind him like a lost puppy. As per usual, the two of them would end up at home by the end of the day, happily re-christening each part of their apartment between heavy giggles and ebullient smiles that made the mutant doubt that he was ever the stoic, deadpan guy that so many people described him as.
Currently it was a Wednesday, and Qing was seated between and obviously too-drunk girl and Bohai––a boy from his French literature class––with a hangover-inducing cup in his hand and an alcohol-induced smile on his face. He could feel a hand slowly carding through his long, silky black hair, tugging lightly at it from where it ended just below his shoulder blades, but couldn't find it in himself to care as he watched the two girls in front of him slither about each other in a way that was almost pornographic in its lewdness. The boner that Bohai was currently sporting was a sure sign that this was something that Qing was supposed to find arousing, but instead he couldn't help but see the humor laced in it.
"Holy shit, dude," Bohai breathed out as they watched the smaller girl hitch her leg up and around the taller's waist in an admirable act of gymnastics that Qing couldn't help but be impressed at. The girl on the other side of him was now leaning across his shoulder, giggling lightly into his hair as she, too, watched the two dance in a way that was apparently supposed to be seductive. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who simply wasn't feeling it. "This is so fucking hot, I literally can't breathe, what the hell?"
"We get it, Bo," Changming, a boy from one of Bohai's fine arts courses that Qing hadn't met until the other had introduced the two of them a few months back, spoke up from the other side of Bohai. One of his arms was wrapped around the handsome stranger to his right who was all but seated in his lap and preening under the attention that Changming was currently giving him while the other was clutching a bottle of water as he was deigned as the designated 'responsible friend' for the night. "You are a hopeless heterosexual, no need to rub it in our poor, gay faces."
"Both," Bohai sent a glare of faux anger at both Changming and Qing that the two of them couldn't help but chuckle at, "Of your 'poor, gay faces' get sucked every night, while my hopeless heterosexual mouth remains kiss free no matter how hard I try." His face morphed into a sort of pout that sent both of the boys into yet another round of exuberant laughter. The two girls were still writhing aggressively with each other, now much more into it than they had been minutes before and Qing could tell the two of them were likely less than a half minute away from dragging each other off to the closest bedroom to tread into what was likely the unknown for both of them.
"If you happened to be into dudes you'd probably be sucking face every night, too," Qing teased, leaning himself onto Bohai's shoulder and letting his long hair fan over the other boy's tight party clothes. The girl who had been on his other shoulder toppled over into his lap as he pulled himself away from her, drunken giggles turned snorts piercing the air and infecting those dancing around them until it felt as if the whole room was laughing.
"It's a liberal arts school, after all," Changming chimed in, punching at Bohai lightly as his handsome stranger took to lightly nipping at his neck, the bright red the boy was turning the only outwards sign that the act was turning him on.
Qing's phone buzzed gently in his back pocket, and without looking the mutant already knew who it was. So did his friends, apparently, if the collective groan they let out at the––apparently audible––ring. He reached around the girl who had somehow, thankfully, righted herself sometime ago and set down his solo cup of whatever alcoholic concoction he had been handed before pushing himself up from the couch and onto his feet. He swayed slightly, but turned to his friends with a smug smile on his face that made both of them glare at him almost jealously.
"Sorry, boys," he taunted, already heading towards the door with an eager skip in his step, still walking backwards so as to teasingly salute the two friends. "I've gotta go get laid. See you in the a-m."
Flora Louisa floraandfauna . 18m
the girl who hid behind a mask
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Su-Bin almost wanted to laugh as she filed after a line of identically dressed doctor's assistants into the locker room that served as a portal between the lab's less legal work of human experimentation and the world of simple cancer research. Of course, she held herself back as she remembered the face that she was wearing––heavily Chinese in nature as opposed to her strong Korean features, and solemn beyond the mutant's wildest imagination––and merely followed after the other scrub-clad students, pulling her surgical mask down off her face in time with the others.
And this was about as far as her original plan took her as she watched in mild fascination as the bitter personas of the assistants around her shed to instead reveal smiling faces and words with hints of laughter in them. Su-Bin wanted to spit on them, each and every one. She wondered how the hell they could do this. How they could torture innocent children all day long and yet fade into these happy, relaxed people as soon as they disappeared from that world. The world that Su-Bin had been forced into.
The mutant quickly pushed these thoughts aside to instead put the same, relaxed smile onto her face that all the others wore. It felt more like a grimace and apparently looked more like one, too, if the looks some of the other assistants sent her were anything to go by. Su-Bin took a moment to thank her lucky stars that she had chosen this face as opposed to one of the delicately pale ones that flit around the room with their pale blue eyes and pale blonde hair. Instead of one of those petite, compliant bodies, she had possessed one that seemed to reek authority. One that made people flinch when she approached.
"Jingfei," a voice cheered out from across the locker room, giving Su-Bin naught more than a moment of warning until a body shuffled up against hers, quickly capturing her lips into a soft, warm kiss that the mutant couldn't help but melt into ever so slightly regardless of just how surprised she was over it. The lips pulled away from hers after another breathless moment of surprisingly sweet intimacy to reveal a face that Su-Bin couldn't recognize for the life of her. Thick, chin length golden red hair framed a pale face of what seemed to be more than a million freckles and brilliantly green eyes. This boy was tall, alarmingly so if Su-Bin were to admit. For a moment she almost believed that he was not one of the assistant doctors, but rather a mutant-what with his aggressive coloring and impressive height. "You left your clothes in my locker, today. Said you didn't want to deal with your troublesome lock again."
Suddenly the intimate kiss from before made sense, what with the soft way his voice lowered until it was a conversation just between the two of them coupled with the light teasing that colored his voice when he spoke of whatever lock had been apparently troubling this face-Jingfei, Su-Bin supposed. A boyfriend. Of course she would have to steal a face that was in a relationship. The delicate pales were suddenly looking much more delectable and, if the process of peeling off this face and applying a new a new didn't take too long and leave her exposed as a top priority winged mutant, she would have quickly traded off into one of them.
The boy led her over towards what Su-Bin could only assume was his locker, already open as the boy had apparently been in the middle of changing before he had decided to attack the mutant. Her wings shifted nervously under the loose, blue medical top. Although knowing perfectly well that the mask her true face was currently hiding behind also disguised the rest of her body almost flawlessly, Su-Bin couldn't stop herself from pulling the lightly colored wings closer to her body as if to better hide them.
He quickly passed her a long, wispy skirt in a beige color that Su-Bin had to stop herself from cringing at as well as a well worn forest green hoodie that she could already tell was multiple times too big for her. The boy's, she guessed as her nose picked up a faint trace of what was distinctly his scent on the fabric. Also, something that Jingfei would never likely be caught in if the light giggles from the assistants behind the two of them were anything to go by.
She rolled her eyes––something that she hoped was a distinctly Jingfei act recognized popularly by the rest of the group––and shamelessly ripped her scrubs from her body, ignoring the scandalized gasps from around her to instead focus on the alarming red that the boy was currently flushing with. If she didn't know any better, Su-Bin wouldn't be shamed to admit that he looked like a stoplight. Granted, she had never seen a stoplight, but during her introductions to certain languages in her first few years of life, she had discovered via flash cards that it was supposedly very, very red. Screw flying off to find the legendary mutant safe-camp somewhere out in lower Canada, the first thing Su-Bin planned to do when she got out of this hell hole was to look at a stoplight. Seduce a stoplight. Sleep with a stoplight.
"Jing'," the boy whined as he quickly jumped in front of Su-Bin as if to save her from the distinctly American embarrassment of the other assistants seeing her semi-nude whilst she hiked the light, flowing skirt up her legs. They were freshly shaven––a product of many and more surgeries including one naught but two days ago––and rubbed pleasingly up against the silky fabric. His face only seemed to glow brighter as Su-Bin quickly ripped off her shirt. What could she say? Modesty had long since been lost on her from all of her time in these godforsaken labs. "When did you get so bold, oh my goodness."
"'Oh my goodness'?" Su-Bin snorted in amusement, a small smile tugging at her lips at the boy's way of speaking. Without even knowing this boy, she could already tell that this vocabulary was so distinctly him. She almost felt sorry for him as he flushed once again whilst the room lit up in hysterical laughter. But then she remembered that he was just as guilty as the power-crazy scientist that created her and quickly pushed down her pity. Even as she looked around the room at all the brilliantly lit up faces around the room, an angry feeling washed over her, a glare threatening to find it's home on her face as she locked eyes with one smiling person after another. She swallowed down this detest and, once again, schooled her features.
As the mutant pulled the newly offered shirt over her head, she allowed her wings to wiggle about within the confines of the baggy sweater, finally loose against her back rather than the tense hold that they had been in. Su-Bin turned back to the boy, now fully dressed, and met his gaze as stoically as she could. An odd expression had settled on his face now, as if he wasn't too sure what was happening. She could feel herself freeing under his gaze, but kept her posture calm. Instead of panicking as she so felt was appropriate, she raised an inquisitive eyebrow in his direction.
The expression was washed from his face almost as quickly as it had found it's home there, leaving him with a toothy grin-the gap between his front two once again pulled at something within Su-Bin, something that she quickly discarded-as he offered his arm to her. She stared at it for a moment, unsure on what she was meant to do with it. She offered hers back, deciding, after a moment, that it was likely the safest option. If he so wanted something from her than, surely, her offering the same to him would end with the needed response.
Sure enough, a chuckle left his lips as he looped his arm through the gap left in hers, pulling her close to his body as they walked to the exit. Well, he walked and Su-Bin followed behind cluelessly. Hollers were still echoing throughout the changing room, signaling to the girl that not all of the assistants left the labs at once. Perhaps it was staggered, to throw off any suspicion of what was truly happening here. Her mind jumped from theory to theory, each more obscure than the last as she was bounced through the lockers. Freedom rushed at her with each step she took closer to the door into the front building.
"Later, Jingfei, Somerled!" A voice-one of the flour colored angels Su-Bin assumed by the simple intonation of the voice coupled with the fact that the lilt had a distinct valley-girl tone that only a flour-colored angel would use-called out in jest at their backs as if expecting them to turn back and greet her in kind. And, while the boy-Somerled, Su-Bin supposed with a feeling of satisfaction rushing through her-did so, the mutant herself took care not to do so. To look back at her prison would send her running back out of the pure normalcy of the torture. Instead, she kept herself focused on the freedom that lay just before her
Tito Amor-Del Pozo delveintoamor . 5m
the boy who never stood a chance
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Experiment B-215-N, known to himself and the close-knit circle of mutants who occupied the crates surrounding him as Bean, could feel a rush of pain lash through him as if a whip had been brought down across his back, striking him with all the powers of the Heavens and more. The boy, only eight, let out a tremendous shriek at the feeling coursing through him, his lithe body convulsing as he tasted blood in the back of his throat. His eyes screwed shut as his fingers clawed at the pain in his back, tearing away the skin as he tried to rip away the source of his agony.
"Bean, Bean," a worried voice called out to the young boy, breaking through the haze of pain just long enough for him to catch it before his body began to writhe across the bottom of the crate once again, shrieks of anguish escaping his little lips as his mouth stretched as far as it possibly could. Rivulets of gentle, child's blood dripped from the torn corners of his lips, staining his chin as they flowed down to his neck as quickly as if they were waterfalls pouring to a lake below. "Bean, please."
With one last cry, the boy's body fell limp, his eyes half-lidded as his chest worked to take in any air he could get at. He felt as if he were suffocating and no matter how much air he gulped into his lungs, he still needed more. He could feel wetness spreading down his face, a mixture of tears and blood that he let fall as they pleased, his body too numb for even such a simple movement as lifting his arm to wipe his cheeks.
His back ached slightly, the throbbing pain from his previous convulsion now more like a hollow knocking that served to keep him from drifting off into the stressful sleep he could feel pulling at him. He knew that, in naught but a few moments, his body would be taut with pain once again, lightning bolts of hurt crashing down onto his body, striking onto his back as if it were some sort of conductor the pain was simply drawn to.
"Iz," Bean's feeble voice called out, instantly catching the attention of what seemed to be the only other person in the room with him. He could hear the older girl scramble across her cage, pressing herself up against the bars in order to be as close to the small boy as possible. He could hear her quiet shushing and cooing, an attempt at getting him to quiet himself, to conserve his energy as best as he could. Spanish endearments colored her voice as she spoke, but he had trouble making any of them out. "Iz, why does it hurt so much?"
Bean turned his head ever so slightly, eyes still half lidded as he tiredly looked towards the girl. She was at least twice his age-maybe even older-but with the scared look on her face, the young boy couldn't help but think she looked younger. Her face, just as his, was streaked with rivers of tears down soft caramel skin. She had her arm pressed through one of the gaps between the bars, reaching out as far as she could as if attempting to touch the small boy, to stroke his hair and give him some sort of comfort.
"I don't know, baby," Isabela spoke as softly as she could, even as she still strained to reach the boy. Bean could feel a smile turning up his bloody lips at the girl's attempt to remain comforting to the boy even as she raged within.
The smile fell from his face as his body tensed once again. It was as if something was crawling beneath the skin of his back, tearing painfully as it attempted to escape, to tear away from the confines of his dark exterior. His mouth opened but nothing left it as he arched his body away from the ground, limbs shaking with tremors as the muscles beneath them tensed and relaxed as if in time to his hummingbird fast heartbeat. His feet stomped uselessly at the ground as his head was thrown back, striking the side of the cage painfully as his body continued to shake against his own accords.
Bean could faintly hear someone calling out his name followed by a loud clang that only served to make his head all the more fuzzy just as he could faintly feel the blood leaking profusely from where his skull had struck the thin metal bars, a puddle of red pooling beneath his head and wetting his feather soft hair in a way that only seemed to stain it a darker black than it was before. The boy knew instinctively that the strike was not something he would be able to walk away from, perhaps even live from. Genetically modified to have an intelligence beyond even those that ran the labs, the boy had been trained since his creation to learn and absorb. He knew perfectly well that he was to die today. He would be another failed experiment in the long line of freakishly-intelligent mutants for the scientists to chat about.
When he came to once again, the first thing he noticed was the hand in his hair, stroking it lightly as his vision blurred in and out, dots of black swimming before his eyes as he turned towards the source of the hand. Isabela, he noticed, had tipped her cage over during his convulsions and was now naught but an inch away from the small boy. If he had the energy to, he could reach out and touch her, really touch her. He didn't, however, and contented himself to the petting he was receiving.
"Hair made of feathers, huh?" Isabela's soft, lilting voice came through Bean's fading consciousness, pulling his eyes open as he stared up at her. She smiled ever so softly down at him, eyes glistening despite herself. He could feel himself attempting the same as well, a gentle smile if only to assure the girl that he wasn't all too sad to go. Her fingers curled in his locks of sleek black feathers, tightening for a moment before relaxing as she continued to stroke his head. The delicate strands fell from his head in clumps, littering the bottom of his crate and staining themselves with the blood still pooling beneath his head. "Here I thought you had been trying to pull a fast one on me all these years."
"I wouldn't," Bean slurred back, eyes only slits as he continued to look at her, wanting the face before him to be the last he ever saw. The steady caress lured his eyes to close, but he didn't dare. Even with a brain like his, he still couldn't let go of the hope that, perhaps, by some miracle, he would live another day. He would be able to hear Isabela's soft voice cooing at him once again.
"I know you wouldn't, baby," Isabela hummed as softly as she could as she pulled the feathers back from his forehead just long enough to fully take in his face before smoothing them back over once more. "Why don't you close your eyes, okay, baby? Just go to sleep and I promise I'll be there when you wake up, okay? I promise, baby, and I never break my promises."
And despite himself, the boy slept.
Chenxin Shen shendmylove . 10m
the girl who never lost hope
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Amaal peeked out nervously from her hiding spot, lungs tight with lack of oxygen as her dirty black hijab-the nicest piece of fabric the young mutant owned-fluttered about her face in the artificial breeze that rustled through the simulated forest. The girl's bottom lip was locked surely between her teeth, pinpricks of blood as red as roses staining her soft petals, carefully tracing their way down her chin as they escaped from the girl's hold.
A gasp of air burst through the girl as movement rustled the underbrush where her eyes were currently glued, body tensing as she realized her mistake. The pink muscle of her tongue poked out from her teeth, wiping away the blood still staining her skin before disappearing once again, swallowing eagerly at the metallic crimson taste. Amaal's body seemed to thrum with it as she threw herself down into a protective stance, a fierce scowl of determination masking her usually soft features. Her nose twitched anxiously in the air, vainly attempting to catch whiff of whoever-whatever-was like to pounce out at her any moment now.
Another rustle pricked at the girl's ears, her body spinning quickly the meet the noise. Before she could even fully turn herself the hijabi had been tackled, a heavy weight barreling into her chest and knocking her swiftly to the ground. All air escaped Amaal's lungs, a sputtering cough leaving her as she tensed for the killing blow she was sure was to come. Her eyes clenched shut, tighter than the grip of her fisted hands. The blunt, short nails still found themselves cutting through her skin, more angry red droplets coloring the girl's dark redwood skin. Instead of the murderous touch she had expected, however, a soft calloused hand had found it's way to Amaal's cheek, gently cradling it as if she were something to be treasured.
Her eyes opened slowly, luminous chocolate met with a blurry haze of what could only be a face. But it wasn't, the air around it too thick for her to make out even the simplest of features. Nonetheless, the girl could tell that the figure atop her was smiling, if not by his face then by the way the knuckle of his first finger stroked lightly across her cheekbone. Amaal found herself relaxing into the touch, a sound of content leaving the back of her throat as she stared carefully up at the other.
That same hot hand slowly began to descend, tracing the shape of her lips almost hypnotically before running gently across her jaw. The touch sent shivers through the girl, ones that only stopped when the boy impatiently pulled at the fabric of her hijab currently donning her neck. She frowned, knowing somehow that this figure-whoever it was-wasn't someone who did things like this. They weren't someone that would even consider it.
Amaal's brow furrowed as she pushed herself up as best as she could with the other's mass still weighing down on her. The figure grunted, the haze around it's face dissipating for a moment to reveal a face that was most certainly not the one that should be touching her. Her mouth opened to protest, to scream, to say something, but as her tongue prepped itself in preparation for words to come, a thick, heavy claw pierced her throat, drilling victoriously through to the back of her neck. She gaped, blood bubbling from the wound as well as from her lips. It stained the back of her tongue and rushed down to her lungs, causing her to gag, to sputter, to cough. The figure above her smiled.
"Amaal," a soft voice cut through the illusion, and suddenly Amaal was no longer in the artificial room, no longer in the pre-made battleground she had been in thousands of times before. No longer with adrenaline coursing through her body, the need to kill no longer staining her thoughts. Her eyes widened as she realized that she had been dreaming, gaze firmly settled on the roof of the crowded dog cage she was currently locked in. Almost immediately another face appeared before her, popping into her view from her right with a look of concern. "Babe, where did you go?"
Amaal blinked once, twice before moving to sit up, the boy that had previously been hovering over her shifting slightly to allow her some space to sit. Why in the world the lab-coats had decided it was a good idea to lock two nearly fully grown mutants inside one crate was beyond her. She glowered as she situated herself, partly from the thought of the lab-coats taking pleasure from their cramped living situation and partly from the pain currently coursing through her body.
"Takahiro," she sighed as her body fell limp onto the other. If Takahiro was surprised by the act he didn't let it show, sitting himself, instead, up against the side of their shared cage and cradling the girl against his body. Amaal tucked her head quickly atop the boy's chest, her usually hijab bound head now bouncing with her natural curls. She sighed once again, Takahiro immediately reading her and quickly gathering the hair up. He tied it back skillfully, a thick bun bouncing on the back of her head as the boy gently draped the black fabric Amaal could twist into works of art across the free locks. He pulled the cloth about her head until the two sides rested in the nape of her neck. His fingers worked quickly, tying a loose knot that had the dress reminding him more of a doo-rag than a hijab, but one Amaal liked nonetheless, if the soft hum coursing through her chest was anything to go by.
"Okay," Takahiro spoke softly, voice nothing more than a whisper as he cradled the girl to him. Amaal melted into the embrace, shifting herself about in his hold so as to bury her nose into the crook of his neck. She inhaled the scent as if it were water and she had just been pulled from the desert. Words were leaving the other, words of comfort, likely, or perhaps just syllables to fill the still air between the two of them, but Amaal drowned them out with the whir of her mind. Her lips gently placed themselves against the boy's neck, running over the skin hesitantly but pleasurably, as proven obvious by the cracking hitch of the other's breath.
Amaal found herself smirking as she continued to lip at the other, tracing a path from his collarbone to his neck, from his neck to his ear, from his ear down to his jaw, from his jaw to his chin, and from his chin to his lips, a touch she hesitated to place. Amaal looked up in order to catch the other's eyes, and Takahiro stared back at her, a light pink coloring the highest peaks of his cheeks. Her arms had gravitated up as she had journeyed, now wrapped comfortably about the boy's neck. His had too, their hold tight about her waist as if afraid she were about to fly away from him. She smiled softly as if to comfort the other, but the teasing look she got from the other made clear the look had seemed more smug than anything else.
So, rather than try to explain herself, rather than to talk about the nightmare that still plagued her mind as if it were as real as the night and day themselves, as if it were as solid as the man currently holding her in his arms, she leant forwards and pressed her lips firmly against the other's, hoping desperately to lose herself in pleasure.
Próspero Cleto Romero livelongandprospero . 15m
the boy who wore two faces
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Pitch hummed lightly as he took a sip of the steaming hot cup of black coffee he held in his silently scaled hands, tongue reveling in the painful burn the liquid left behind as it washed itself down his throat. Currently the mutant was seated in a small local café located in the center of a bustling desert city, men and women alike all dressed in clothes chic enough to burn a sneer into the boy's mouth hurrying about to and from wherever the hell they needed to go. They were scurrying about like mice just outside of the window the young man was seated besides, not even sparing his haggard form a glance as they continued along.
He sighed as he pulled the cardboard cup from his lips, running a hand, still warm from where it had held the coffee moments earlier, through his unearthly pale hair, a general look of sickliness surrounding him and effectively keeping all others away from him. Pitch turned, now, to glance about the café itself, tired of the pompous figures strolling past the small store. Just like the rest of the city, the shop was buzzing with activity, orders being shouted out left and right among the bitter stench of freshly ground coffee. Pitch couldn't help himself as he took a deep breath of the aroma surrounding him, tongue poking out to eagerly lick at his lips, catching the last remnants of the coffee stains on his lips before taking yet another sip of his drink.
"Excuse me," a soft voice alerted Pitch that he was no longer alone, his eyes turning from his scan of the café to instead focus on the petit girl who stood before him, a hooked nose heavy with thick framed blue glasses hanging just above petal soft lips devoid of any makeup save for a taste of cherry flavored chapstick, if the slight smell wafting from her and to his nose was anything to go by. His nostrils widened momentarily as if to better identify the smell before he relaxed them once again, schooling his already blank features as he looked up at the girl.
"What?" he asked briskly, the bitter bite in his voice snapping at the girl above him and making her flinch slightly. He was sure the smirk he felt himself attempting to repress was shining within his eyes as the girl quickly looked away, eyes narrowing as if to prevent herself from crying as a heavy stain of red rose to the surface of her dark brown skin. Any guilt he may have felt building within him was struck down by his violently aggressive pride that had been building within him ever since he first snapped at the woman.
Rather than scampering away as he had expected her to do, the girl instead cleared her throat, blinking a few times to get rid of the glossy cover that dyed her deep hazel eyes, and turned to Pitch, straightening her back slightly as if it would make her any taller. Even in the quaint three inch heels the boy could see her wearing, the girl stood only at around five foot five, a good five inches shorter than the mutant himself. Despite her attempt to harden her own features to mirror the stoney look on Pitch's face, the boy thought her to look more like an angry kitten than anything else.
"May I sit here?" The girl finally choked out, whatever confidence she had been attempting to build up leaving her body like a popped balloon. If it weren't for the humiliated look on the other's face, Pitch likely would have laughed. Hell, he probably would have laughed if not for the bit of him that was still Pierre currently living close to the forefront of his mind, just behind the pretense of being cold and silent, a statue come to life only enough to speak.
"Whatever," Pitch finally relented, remaining silent a few moments before he spoke just to allow himself the pleasure of watching the girl squirm. At his answer, however, she seemed to spring up in joy, a bright smile spreading across her face as she quickly slipped into the seat opposite him, her own heated drink clutched between her hands as she turned her blinding grin to him now. His disinterested face seemed to throw her off, however, seeing as it quickly deflated into nothingness, her eyes flitting away from him to instead focus on the lid of her tightly clutched drink.
"So," she finally managed a minute later, the two of them having sat in a stagnant silence up until then, noiselessly sipping on their respective drinks as their eyes sprinted about the room, hers as if searching for a savior and his to simply observe, the paranoia within him never stilling despite the relatively safe atmosphere the café offered. His eyes turned lazily towards her, a single brow raising as he waited for her to continue. She shifted under his gaze, turning from him as a hand detached from her drink to instead push her glasses further up her nose. "I'm Sanjana."
Pitch's face contorted in confusion, head tilting as if he hadn't heard what the girl had just said. "Why should I care?"
The girl-Sanjana, Pitch supposed-bristled at his question, cheeks puffing with annoyance as she shot him an angry look before turning to assault the people walking about outside with her bitter glare. He had to admit, however, that her glare was toxic, sharp enough that he almost felt it tearing into his skin, imbedding itself besides his veins as if it had broken into shards of glass. Another moment of her glaring out the window passed before the girl turned back to the boy. "You should care because it's the polite thing to do."
Once again Pitch rose his brow, setting his coffee down on the sticky café table to instead lean back in his seat, crossing his arms stubbornly as he did. By now Sanjana was practically fuming, lip curled in distaste as she continued to stare him down as if waiting for him to break beneath it. He didn't know how to politely inform her that he had held himself up against much worse than a silly girl's annoying attitude.
A sharp jab against his shin jolted the boy, his eyes widening comically as he glanced over at the girl, her face now smug as she, too, leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as if to mirror his own salty behavior. It took Pitch another moment to realize that Sanjana had just kicked his shin as if the two of them were not total strangers but, instead, old friends. He looked up again to study her coy expression, her features twisting about in a way that made her eyes crinkle with joy, long lashes brushing against the top of her cheekbones each time she blinked.
Another moment passed before Pitch, too, smiled, falling back into he chair as he studied the girl, reaching his foot out to lightly jab at her as well. Sanjana snorted lightly at this playful behavior before leaning forward across the table, propping herself up on her elbows as she brought her face conspiratorially close to his side of the square top, her thick black hair falling about her shoulders to instead frame her face as her nose drew up to the lid of his coffee cup. He could see that she had risen from her seat to do so, obviously bored with sitting. It was as if the shy girl who had approached him not but minutes ago had disappeared entirely, this teasing taunting creature smoothly taking her place.
"Let's try that again," Sanjana said sweetly, the sugar lacing her voice making Pitch snort in amusement. Her face lit with pride as the boy himself reached to gently shove her away from his side of the table, watching closely as she slid back into her chair, body still leant across the table despite Pitch's attempts at pushing her back. "My name is Sanjana. What's yours?"
Pitch felt a smile blooming on his face, any façade he had been wearing easily melting away from him as he studied the body across from him.
"Pierre."
Babbs barbaracassady . 20 m
the girl who was a weapon
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Falu tugged absentmindedly at the dog tags she currently had hanging about her neck, a name that wasn't hers staring out across the busy square she walked through with blank eyes and heavy feet. The mud the girl had crawled through nearly an hour earlier in an attempt to escape had dried on her skin, grating at her skin and wings as she weaved through the busy people rushing about her. Some cast her an odd look, obviously wary of the dirt and blood still staining her clothes and visible skin, but quickly looked away, brushing it off as another ordinary day in New York City. Every so often a group of tourists would stop to point her out, cameras flashing in her direction as she steadfastly trudged on.
The bags beneath her eyes tugged heavily at her eyelids, as if weights had been tied to her lashes in an attempt to finally make the young mutant sleep. Falu ignored the insistent pounding from behind her eyeballs, finding her way into an alley situated between two skyscrapers and tiredly collapsing besides a dumpster that smelt heavily of rot, one which she quickly brushed off to instead bask in the feeling that came with leaning up against the green bin. Something had leaked from within and, if the wetness spreading across her ass was anything to go by, Falu was sitting in it, but she could honestly not care less.
She propped her head up against the bin now, angling her chin down just enough so that, when she grabbed at the dog tags and pulled them out ever so slightly, she could make out the words written across them. Falu's eyes found the words all too easily, thumb wet with grime gently brushing across the raised metal of the tag.
Ivanov, Yakov G.
4892647208
AB Neg
East Orthodox
The words had long since burned their way into Falu's mind, enough that she would be reciting them in her sleep until she was killed, but even the act of reading through them once again served to calm the girl's nerves. Her thumb paused over the name, tracing the letters as gently as she could as if, if she pressed too hard on the indents, she would wash it away, just as the proper owner of the tags had been, until he was nothing more.
Falu glanced away, swallowing around the lump that had gathered in her throat and quickly blinking her eyes in an attempt to clear the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. It was a valiant effort, anyone would be able to see that, but fruitless in it's job as a soft rivulet dampened her cheek.
She blinked in surprise, hand coming up to brush at the teardrop almost curiously, utterly unused to the feeling of crying. For so long Falu had been a stone, for herself and for others. She was a weapon and, more often than not, she acted like one, silent and still, stony and stoic. The ability to break had been long since lost to her, or at least she had thought so, before this one singular drop of liquid had foiled all attempts she had previously made to remain a freezing, unfeeling block.
Falu shook off her surprise, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, effectively smearing more of the grime from the trash across her face as she did. She would remain strong, no matter just how many tears left her eyes. She would continue on as if they were not there. She would continue as if Yakov was still besides her as he had been all these years, as if the boy who's name she had forgotten in between loads of painful memories was behind her, egging her forwards.
"Yakov," her lips shaped the word smoothly, a soft warmth spreading through her as she thought of the man who had given her so much. Falu let the feeling embrace her for a moment longer before she dropped the tags, letting them clink painfully against her sternum as she closed herself off once again, turning off her feelings as if with a switch.
She stood smoothly, her body like a ribbon being fluttered through the air, controlled by a dancer far above. The mutant straightened her back, tossing her head enough so that her hair, grown long in her own act of rebellion, bounced down her neck and to the small of her back. Her ears twitched beneath the sounds of the city, shouts the sound of colors and sights the color of sounds invading her senses as if she had never experienced anything other than chaste touch before.
The sound of an approaching someone, someone stumbling as they walked, alerted the young mutant that she was not alone, her head flying to face the source of the noise. It had fallen dark sometime during her quiet contemplation, or perhaps she had drifted off when she had first settled against the trash bin, and a man, the alcohol on his breath potent enough that, even if not for her super-human sense of smell, she likely would have smelt it, was approaching her.
"Hey there, pretty lady." He slurred, jumping at her as best as he could in his stunted way of walk, stepping and dragging as if he were an extra from a zombie movie. He reached her in no time, the girl herself too focused on studying him to back herself away from what others would likely perceive as an approaching threat. He flung his arm about her, pulling her lithe body to his own, pudgy shape and squeezing her as if she were a pillow he had pulled from his bed spread. Falu couldn't stop the sound of disgust that rose in her throat, one that the man seemed to ignore as he instead focused on pulling her closer to him. "How do you feel about getting out of here?"
Falu was a weapon.
She struck.
Ismo Harmaajärvi causeharmaajarvi . 5m
the boy who saved the world
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Wrigley angrily sucked the meat off of one of the chicken wings taken from the plate before him, happy to ignore the girl-as pretty as she was-that was currently sat in front of him, watching him with eyes that screamed anything but 'wow, chicken wings sure are tasty.' Still, even with the smoldering gaze he was being fixed with, the mutant couldn't bring himself to look away from the platter of food. The spices burnt fiercely at his tongue and coated his fingers like blood from a wound. He briefly wondered if, by eating these pieces of meat, he would technically be considered a cannibal, but quickly shoved the thought down, almost embarrassed to be thinking it, especially in the presence of someone he didn't know.
"Do," he finally coughed out, turning his face up to lock eyes with the girl. Even with hunger ravaging his mind, chivalry would always win out with him. She blushed ever so slightly, but didn't turn away from Wrigley's gaze, instead only seeming to intensify it-if there ever was a way to do so. He shifted in his seat and reached for a napkin to clean his heavily coated fingers on. "Do you want one?"
"Me?" She questioned innocently, a smile that bordered between being surprised and being coy spreading across her face as she leaned hesitantly over the table, her hair spilling over her shoulders like water as her shirt shifted down her body ever so slightly. Now it was Wrigley's turn to blush, quickly averting his eyes as he attempted to keep his cool-something that he was well known for in the labs, mind you. "No, thank you. I don't really eat meat."
The boy raised an eyebrow in question, looking around the barbecue joint they were currently seated in, the disbelief clear in his eyes. He couldn't fathom why else she would be in such a place other than to, well, eat meat. Or perhaps this place served great salads, he didn't know. As soon as he had entered, the girl across from him had grabbed him by the elbow and led him to a cozy little corner booth, quickly ordering a basket of hot wings from a passing waiter despite the fact that they had never seen each other before. At first he had wondered if she, too, was a mutant, perhaps a spy sent from the labs, but he was quick to discard that notion as soon as he had given her a once over. Although fierce in that distinctly human way, Wrigley couldn't sense the general air of threat and suspicion that other mutants held. She was human, in the most human of ways.
"I'll admit," she laughed once again, pulling away from the table to instead lay herself across the back of the bench of the booth, head tilted slightly in a way that Wrigley couldn't help but find cute. Her hair, long and smooth and the color of the night sky, fell with the hesitant tilt, blanketing one of her shoulder's-right? left? Wrigley didn't know, too entranced with the shine of the locks under the dim light of the restaurant-as her eyes peered curiously over at him. "I was in here waiting for a friend. By now it's sort of a given that I've ditched her, but when a girl like me sees a face like yours, well, let's just say that subtlety has never been one of my strong suits."
Wrigley easily let the laugh escape his lips, a smile breaking over his face as he reached up to run a hand over the gentle beard of coarse reddish-brown hair he hadn't had the time to shave off. For once he was grateful that he hadn't, if it meant being able to meet a girl like this. A vegetarian she may be, but she seemed exceptionally…what was the word? Cool was too casual of a description, but anything else-funky, out of this world, exquisite, a dream come to life-didn't seem to hold the same connotation that the girl held in general. Even if she didn't wear the air all other mutants the boy himself had met, she had a sort of otherworldly beauty that baffled him.
The soft laughter finally died down, leaving only a gentle smile on his lips as the boy continued to observe the girl. A thought struck him almost suddenly, the fact that he did not know the girl's name immediately dousing any remnants of being a chivalrous being that the boy still held with him. He wanted to blush, or maybe just groan, the embarrassment coursing through him all the while the girl remained oblivious, obviously entertained as Wrigley's face lit with shades of red. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his own dilemma, he would have appreciated the snort she had let out in laughter much more than he currently was.
"I'm so sorry," Wrigley finally managed, hands-now with fingers free of any and all wing sauce-coming up to abashedly cover the whole of his face. He peeked out from between his fingers for a brief moment, amusement now coursing through with his guilt at the utter look of surprise the girl so easily wore. When she noticed him peeking, as anyone was bound to do, she was quick to school her features into a more sly look, eyes narrowing as a teasing smile spread across her lips. He brought his hands down from his cheeks, grabbing at an unused napkin to instead mindlessly rip it up. "I didn't even ask your name."
Now it was the girl's turn to look embarrassed, naturally tanned skin turning a brilliant shade of red as she let her head fall down to bang against the table, making him jump briefly before sending him into a fit of laughter, amused to point of laughter at the humiliated look she wore on her face. She laid her arms across the table, burrowing her face in the crook of her elbow before turning her head just enough to lock eyes with Wrigley. "Sorry about that. I pulled you away and I didn't even introduce myself," laughter left her lips now before she spoke again, "I'm Keezheekoni, but you can just call me Koni, everyone does."
"Keezheekoni," Wrigley echoed, lips hesitantly shaping the words as if afraid he would mispronounce them. The girl across from him nodded in silent joy, obviously pleased that the mutant was able to say her name. "Chippewa, isn't it? I mean, I could be totally off, so feel free to beat me up if I am."
"No, no, you're totally right!" Koni cheered excitedly at the other's recognition, eyes lighting up brilliantly, "'Fire, briskly burning.' Or something like that." She shrugged nonchalantly, trying to brush off the excitement she had held just moments before. "My nokomis told me, like, forever ago, but who am I to remember that stuff?" Wrigley grinned at her, obviously not believing her statement which only caused her to groan before hiding her face once again. A comfortable almost friendly silence settled between them, the familiar feeling bringing a picture of Quinn to the boy's mind, one he quickly pushed down as a lump rose up simultaneously into his throat. He breathed deeply, all but a sigh as he did. "So, you know my name, but I still don't know yours."
"Sorry," he said, reminiscent of the girl's speech moments ago as a guilty smile took its place across his lips. Wrigley settled himself once again in his padded seat and grinned coyly at Koni. "My name's Wrigley."
The girl snorted audibly, her eyes crinkling as if in an attempt to conceal her laughter. Even if he was blind, Wrigley didn't doubt that he would have been able to tell the girl was amused, especially at the teasing lilt of her next statement. "Your parents Cub's fans?"
"What?" Wrigley asked dumbly, unsure just what Koni meant by 'Cub's fans.' That was one of the downsides to being held captive in a cage most of his life, he had no idea what anyone was talking about. Ever. The only thing he was truly good at were Kesha lyrics and sometimes quotes from whatever reality television show was playing when he crashed in a motel.
Koni rose an eyebrow in disbelief, obviously not believing him. He shook his head, shrugging slightly as if to reinforce the idea that he truly had no idea what a 'Cub's fan' was. Which, to be completely honest, he didn't. He had named himself, after all, and could vouch for himself that he had not been considering these 'Cubs,' but rather the name of a chewing gum a certain scientist who had worked on him had favored and, later, choked to death on. Considering he had been partly to blame for the incident, it only seemed appropriate that he named himself after such.
But that wasn't something he would ever tell Koni.
"Okay, okay," Koni finally relented, rolling her eyes in amused exasperation as she threw her hands up in a mock surrender. Wrigley chuckled at the act, finding the other positively exhilarating to be around. It almost felt like he was back with Quinn fresh after their escape from the labs, nothing more than smiles and jokes as they attempted desperately to push away the threats they knew still loomed over them. They had learnt the hard way that this was a bad way to go about things. "So, Wrigley, what are you doing in town, anyways?"
"I'm looking for an old friend."
Desdemona Novak desdemoaning . 10m
the girl who didn't know
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Enakai awoke to the sound of foreign voices speaking a foreign language, the words scraping at her ears as if they were the clawed paws of what the scientists called the To-Kabinana, a hero of myth, but what those in the labs referred to as the To-Karvuvu, those responsible for the bad and evil in the world.
Her mind split from stories of myths and lupine torturers as she attempted to reach up towards her ears, to block out the cacophony of guttural word after guttural words. Her hands barely made it up a centimeter, chained as they were to the table she now noticed that she seemed to be strapped to.
While before Enakai's eyes had been closed, one quick flash of the bright, clinical light above her forced them shut easily, they quickly snapped open in confusion. She couldn't even lift her head to survey her surroundings, her neck cuffed securely to the table. The most she could manage was rapidly shaking it to and fro in an attempt to further her minimal peripheral.
Her movement, however, did not go unnoticed. Almost as soon as she began her quiet thrashing, Enakai was surrounded by the guttural speaking strangers-scientists, her mind supplied as her eyes were met with masked faces and gloved hands that hovered over her body as if afraid to touch down. She wanted to growl at them, but all that came out when she attempted to was a choked whimper, her throat as dry as a desert.
The scientist that had settled besides her head shouted out an order and quickly the others bustled off. Obviously, this one was the leader, Enakai concluded as she narrowed her eyes up at him. He caught her gaze and seemed to be restraining a smirk from behind his mask, if the way his eyes crinkled up had anything to say about it. She sneered, knowing she was unable to make a sound, but still hoping to intimidate the man despite his upper hand on her.
His smile died out and he quickly shot his head up once again, another command barked from his mouth before he wandered away from her, leaving Enakai with only the view of the clinical ceiling above her, that bright white light still beaming down at her as she attempted in vain to see through it.
All at once she was surrounded, against, a straw pressed to her lips. The one who held it against her skin nodded as if to urge her to use it. Hesitantly, Enakai took a sip, pleased to fine the ice cold taste of water coursing down her throat. It was still sore, but as she hurriedly drank up the liquid the hurt began to lessen slowly. It didn't go unnoticed, however, that the scientists round her were eagerly taking notes as she downed the drink. She wanted to roll her eyes, but decided it would be best to simply shut them as she indulged as she had never done before.
As soon as the blessing had been put upon her it was ripped away, pulling a whine from her throat as it went. She attempted to lift her head and follow the straw, but the bracer around her neck quickly pushed at her air pipe, leaving her coughing in pain as her head banged back against the metal table, only pulling another pained groan from her as it did so. Her eyes, now, were opened, wildly dashing about in an attempt to find the source of her displeasure so that she knew who to snarl at.
The scientist from before was back, this time with a face that Enakai couldn't help but recognize, especially considering the fact that it had been the last she had seen before whatever procedure they had enacted upon her. The mutant's eyes widened in surprise, not knowing in the slightest why the woman would be before her. Sure it was her experiment that had been performed, but the girl had been expecting for Lin to simply leave detailed instructions to Enakai's usual scientists before high tailing it back to China.
"Experiment ARj-001," it was oddly reminiscent, how the woman said her…name, as if they had only just met and had yet to take on the impossibility of the scientist's crazy trials. Enakai raised an eyebrow in response, urging the woman on. Lin looked as if she was sucking on a lemon. "It's good that you're awake. You've been out far too long."
The sound of her native Aijë was like heaven to the mutant's ears, even if it was stunted and choppy, spoken from someone who appeared to be following a script rather than holding a conversation. Enakai cleared her throat, opening her mouth in an attempt to speak. The man from before pushed his hand out as if to close her mouth, but Lin stopped him easily, knocking his arm away as she continued to look down at the girl. It was a difficult task, talking. Her throat seemed swelled to a point that even the simplest word couldn't find the room to squeeze out. She managed, however, as she always did. "How long?"
Lin looked at the man, speaking quickly in what Enakai could only assume was a reproduction of the words she had just spoken. Quickly she lodged what the woman had said into her mind, her first step in learning this guttural language. The man said something back, making a sound with his mouth that Enakai's dirty hospital gowns made when she dropped them carelessly on the ground. 'Phoonf!'
"Five days," the woman said, having turned back to the mutant whilst she was occupied with the words from the man. Enakai nodded mindlessly, much more a knowing blink of her eyes than anything else. While, of course, knowing just how long she had been under was important, knowing the breach between her language and the one the rest of the scientists around her seemed to be speaking was even more significant.
"And," Enakai said softly, hoping this privilege would not be denied to her. She was almost certain by now that she was no longer in New Caledonia, both from the language those around her spoke-different from even the Mandarin that Lin and her assistants had been speaking back in her home lab-and the soft scent that was filtering into her nose. It seemed as if the scientists had made an attempt to recreate the native scents of the lab she was extracted from, but there was an underlying scent of…of something that she did not have a name for, and that underlying scent permeated through all of their attempts as if they hadn't even been made. "Where am I?"
Lin froze at the question, features souring even further than they had been before as her posture went from rigid to even more rigid. Even if that wasn't possible, the woman somehow made it work.
She turned her cold gaze down to Enakai, for the first time looking at her as if she were more than just and experiment. Rather, she had become something the woman loathed beyond all else, even less than the trash of the labs that the scientists survey called the mutants behind their backs. Perhaps even to their faces, if you met the right one.
"Far away," said Lin, malice in her words. As soon as they were spat out the woman turned on her heel and walked away, shouting something out in the language Enakai did not know once again. Almost at once the other scientists scrambled after her, shutting the lights off behind them as they went, guttural voices echoing down the hallway until the thick metal door that closed off the room she was in slammed shut, silencing them.
And leaving Enakai in the dark.
Hey hey! Sorry this took so long, I've been out of town for the whole of the summer. ;; Anyways! If you don't see your oc, they will likely come up later! If you want to still submit an oc for this story, go ahead and do so, dears!