1) AI scrapers can suck the fattest, juiciest, saltiest wiener and choke on it.
2) Sorry if updates have been slow. This arch of the story is about two more chapters from being finished, and I haven't had time to think about what happens after, soooooooo I gotta plan that. Don't know how pantsers do it...
The stars of night's darkness had yet to dim when one of the younger girls pushed open the door to the Flagstaff camper, met with the brush of morning's frigid across her cheeks that shook a slight shiver through her. Molly squinted with a small sneer, slugging one strap of her black messenger bag as her dark-blue earring dangled a bit with the two steps it took to reach the graveled ground. Right behind her was Tootie adjusting the straps of her backpack with her teal bracelet peeking beneath the sleeve of her black wool coat, purple eyes not once lifting from the pebbles crunching under her Coda boots. Neck bowed wearily, Tootie dragged her boots towards the red pickup parked on the stretched patch of gravel, taking the driver's side while Molly made her way to the passenger's side.
The two girls waited wordlessly as the redhaired teen covered a wide yawn with her palm, carrying her backpack by one of its straps. The Dimmsdale Correctional Facility security guard used his key to lock the door as the last to exit the camper, protected by the morning chill solely by a black turtleneck under his blue polo tucked into his black slacks.
Molly was still registered as a student at Snerd Elementary; luckily, one of the bus stops to Snerd was close to Happy Trails. Because it was still too cold and dark to trust their safety in waiting at their bus stops, Vic would drive the pickup to the end of the street and let Tootie and Molly sit in the truck until their buses were close in sight. Their elementary schools were an inconvenient detour from his route to work, thus the girls had to resort to taking the bus. The high school, however, was enroute, so he would drive Vicky to school.
It'd be a different story if he went back to working nights for the extra pay, something he'd been considering ever since having an extra foster child mouth to feed.
Once the doors unlocked with a click, Vicky tossed her backpack carelessly into the front passenger as Vic scooted into the driver's seat, holding his travel mug filled with a fresh brew of Folgers Colombian. Molly and Tootie climbed into the back seats and shut their doors as Vic sipped his lifeline, its bitter, earthy notes swishing onto his tongue and down his throat. Filling him with additional warmth as he twisted his ignition keys, firing up the engine with a prominent roar that awoke the alerting barks of a neighboring trailer's greyhound.
While the engine aided in defrosting the windows and blasting heat into the truck, early-morning exhaustion and preoccupied minds kept the truck silent. Arms folded over her chest, Molly held tired eyes to the mundane dead grass and dirty gravel out through her window, and Tootie bunched her knees together with arms wrapped, brows furrowed in thought.
Confusion and confliction had disturbed her sleep in grappling all that Timmy had revealed. How the same powerful fairies who had proclaimed their desire to help children were the same witch hunters to hurt, maim, and even kill. Using their immeasurable powers to take the lives of adults that had done bad things and/or were considered to be bad people; it'd left her questioning whether any of it was right. Was it right for her to feel sorry for a man who'd ultimately fallen victim to brainwashing? She remembered her dad being somewhat smart, so, maybe he might have actively allowed himself to be brainwashed…
But did he deserve to die?
Timmy didn't have to say whether her father had succumbed to his injuries…she unfortunately already knew. A couple of days after the return from the Council's realm, her uncle had come home from work with the news that her father had succumbed to exsanguination. In other words, Jim had bled to death. Vicky and Vic had agreed not to claim his body, and apparently, neither did the other next of kin that she didn't remember (they'd explained who Grandma Vicky was, but she'd kept sensing that Vic was excluding details as if she wasn't meant to hear the full story just yet.)
After everything Jim had done, the refusal to claim his body was not what upset her. It was that she could never have fathomed the Council being behind her father's ultimate demise. She was also conflicted in whether this 'vengeance' of theirs had been fully warranted; the mere thought stabbed relentlessly at her mind. Just like the burning slash of his belt against the bare back of her legs, stinging red into her skin. Just like the brute force of his knuckles pounding into her-
She twitched in a small startle when the crank of the gear shift broke the silence in the air before the tires rolled backwards. Feeling the reverse onto the main driving path in her seat when another crank of the shift then rolled the tires forward along gravel towards the entrance/exit of Happy Trails. Remembering where she was, Tootie's stare shifted towards Molly's vague expression that did not acknowledge her, unable to tell what she could be thinking. Molly had been like that ever since they'd come home last night. Stoic, unreadable.
She remembered Swizzle's advice to let Molly be, that it was best to leave her alone when she gets like this. She also remembered being shaken out of her sleep by hitched breaths and pretending to stay asleep when those hitched breaths lapsed into the weakest, most silent whimpers she'd ever thought possible.
With a small frown, Tootie turned her attention to the front of the truck, contemplating if she should even ask what she herself heavily debated. Contemplating if her uncle would tell her the truth or try to lie to spare not just her feelings. The little brother and father lost to doctrinal propaganda was still, understandably, a touchy subject. She would have to think of how to frame the question without poking the bare, though she didn't mind the risk. She just had to know…
"…Uncle Vic?"
"Yeah?" Vic acknowledged his niece's weak call, waiting patiently for Tootie's question that was soon hindered by her hesitant sigh.
"…never mind…"
"Nah, honey, what is it?" his tired twang encouraged, rolling the pickup to a stop at the Happy Trails exit before looking both ways for any oncoming cars.
When Vic made a left out through the gate, Tootie twisted her lips, her quiet voice only just audible over the truck's roaring engine when she squeaked "…is revenge ever really right?"
Having propped her chin in her palm with a worn gaze out the passenger window, Vicky's eyes flashed at the question, shooting her uncle a fretful glance that Vic shared in her direction. Glancing through the rearview, he saw Tootie's coy grimace, a thousand different words buzzing like a swarm of angry bees in his mind.
The toes of his shoes tapped the break, slowing the truck to a careful stop near the right curb of the street corner closest to the dividing train tracks. Cranking the gearshift into park with the engine running to keep the truck warm as he relied on another sip of coffee as a stall tactic for this moral conundrum of a question. Taking a breath, he turned in his seat to meet the complex doubt in his niece's stare. "…sweetheart, where's this comin' from?"
Molly turned her gaze from the window, staring at Tootie's visible cower.
"…I-I just don't know…if it's ever okay to act on revenge…"
"Okay…" it was Vicky's turn to shift in her seat, facing her little sister. "What little twerp do I have to beat down?"
"What? N-No! I-I'm not talking about that!" Tootie stammered, fretful of the harm she knew Vicky can and will inflict on anyone who messes with her sister and she knows about it.
"Then what is it?"
"I-I'm just…" she lowered her chin, bringing her teal bracelet close to her chest "…I wonder if…revenge is ever a good thing at all."
"…well…" Vic licked his lips "…it's, uh…normal to want revenge when somebody does ya dirty, but…" he sighed. Sheesh, where's an easy explanation when you need one? "…it depends on how dirty they did you."
"…how dirty they did you?" Tootie squeaked puzzledly.
"Think of it like this…somebody might want revenge cuz they're sufferin', and cuz that person made them suffer. Then they want that person to suffer, too, especially if that person did somethin' almost unforgivable."
Tootie's brow puckered. "…but if that person knows what it's like to suffer, why would they want someone else to suffer, too?"
"It settles the score." Vicky stated matter-of-factly, making Tootie pout.
"…even if someone loses their life?"
Molly furrowed. Why did Tootie have to bring this up?
"Well…think of somebody committin' first-degree murder and they get sentenced to death." Vic tried to explain. "In that case, the punishment fits the crime. The score is settled."
"But why does revenge have to end with someone dying?" Tootie probed.
"It ain't always like that." Vic clarified.
"But some folk gotta learn the hard way…" Molly's grave tone garnered Tootie's troubled look shot her way.
"You can't learn from your wrongs when you're dead." Tootie refuted.
"Honestly, I agree with your friend…" Vicky remarked, hints of dark undertones in her conviction. "Folks like rapists, abusers, murders…bad people. Those types of people are too far gone to be reformed. They'll never learn anything, so, it's more about comeuppance."
"An eye for an eye..." Molly grumbled, lowering her gaze.
Tootie swallowed hard as if to push back the sour taste in the back of her throat. "You can take an eye for an eye, but only that eye. Because if you take two eyes, that's when the whole world becomes blind."
Molly couldn't help but snort derisively. "Thought you didn't believe in that crap anymore…"
Tootie grimaced tartly. Bible reference or not, the point still stands. "…all I'm saying is…if somebody hits you and does bad things, e-even if it's someone you love...if they didn't kill you, then do they still deserve to be killed?"
"If it means they won't hurt or do anymore bad things to you or anyone else..." Molly muttered a counter, managing to mask her wince when flickering images of a knife resurfaced. Reaching to rub the side of her neck from the phantom pains of its sharp blade as her brow creased darkly.
How fitting for that drunkard to go out slicing his own neck. Even if he'd been magically coerced to do so…what did it matter? He deserved to choke on his own blood.
"But then the punishment doesn't fit the crime!" Tootie objected. "That's not an eye for an eye! That's just…j-just cruel!"
"Tootie…" Vicky had a suspicious hunch, a hunch she didn't like in the slightest. "You're not talking about Jim, are you?"
Tootie bit her lip, and her muscles grew rigid. Her gaze downcast as her older sister narrowed her eyes.
"You know as well as I do; that bastard got exactly what was coming to him, and no one should ever feel sorry for him." Vicky sternly spat. "Not Uncle Vic, not me, and definitely not you."
Tootie inhaled sharply when a biting pain throbbed in her jaw, only just realizing she'd been grinding her teeth. She flashed despairing eyes to her uncle, burgeoning with tears. "Uncle Vic…y-you don't feel that way, do you?!"
Vic thinned his lips, having fallen silent for a reason. He had to bite back his tongue on his regret that he'd called in that fateful day, the day those inmates jumped and shanked that bible thumper he once called his little brother. He had to censor his wish that he'd been the one to end Jim himself, a wish he'd harbored and kept shut and sealed for a long, long time. Unfortunate for him, his silence spoke louder than words for the raven-haired girl, and the glossiness in her frown pained him greatly.
When Molly could hear the rumble of a loud engine approaching from a distance, she squinted ever so faintly at the headlights she could see through the window from the yellow bus coming down the street from her right, recognizing glimpses of the children from her school as they stepped closer to the curve for the bus to slow down.
Oh, thank fuck… "That's my bus…" she huffed her announcement, gathering her messenger bag as she unlocked her seatbelt. She'd rather suffer at school than to keep suffering through this insufferable conversation.
"Alright…" Vic sighed, clicking open the lock on the back doors. "Have a good day, Molly."
"Uh, yeah…" she mumbled in response, still unused to courtesy from strangers. As she gave Tootie a last glance, her dark-blue earring gave a short, parting wave to the teal bracelet of whom returned the gesture.
Purple eyes bristled with the turbulent mixture of sadness and frustration as they watched Molly climb out the truck and shut the door. How can Molly act so pragmatic about this? Maybe because Molly wasn't as sheltered from how 'real' the world can be. Not like she had been under the guise of religious philosophy.
But was it really so resolute for all wrongdoers to die, no matter their sin? What if she did something bad…would she deserve to die?
When the loud rumble and shining headlights of another oncoming bus led Vic to look to his left, he could see McBadbat's son step up to the curbs edge with his friend and a blonde girl as the Dimmsdale Elementary school bus squealed when the breaks were pressed. "Tootie, you should go before you miss the bus…" he spoke somberly.
Shooting her uncle and sister one last agonized glance, Tootie swiftly grabbed her backpack straps and tugged on the door handle, shoving it open and hopping out the truck with a slam of the door. Vicky and Vic watched Tootie's boots scurry to catch the bus as the troubled teen huffed back against her seat.
"…the hell was that about?" Vicky pondered out loud, thrown by Tootie being so upset. If she did have a problem about not claiming Jim's body, Tootie had never said anything or acted like it bothered her before now.
"No idea…" Vic groaned, relocking the doors before shifting the gear into drive. Pulling out onto the street in front of the bus that Tootie narrowly managed to stumble onboard before the driver could slide the doors shut.
As Chester and AJ found an available seat before the bus gradually drove away from the sidewalk back onto the main suburban road, Tootie didn't have to scan the seats long to find the fellow godchild near the front of the bus. Puffy sleeves of her lavender parka clutching her backpack in the seat in front of Sanjay and Elmer, drear blue eyes fixed to the scenery passing her by. Tootie inhaled deeply and exhaled what little she could of her shot nerves, making her way over to take the empty spot beside Chloe.
Feeling the shift of weight in the leather seat, Chloe side-glanced away from the window before she turned to acknowledge the familiar new comers with a forced smile.
"Hey, sweetheart…how're you holding up?" the teal bracelet felt inclined to ask. Chloe's panic attack had not fully calmed before Tootie called off the get-together and everyone had returned home, so Rose wanted to check in.
Chloe's indigo necklace saw Chloe's brows pucker as she averted her eyes. "It's kinda complicated…" Susie sighed. "Chloe starts her new medication after school today."
"New medication?" Tootie asked.
Chloe nodded tensely, gulping "…for anxiety…"
"Nervous about side effects?" Rose questioned, and Chloe stiffly nodded once more. She hated even needing medication in the first place…
"Her psychiatrist is starting her on some low dosages, so I'm hoping the side effects won't be as bad as it was with the Lexapro…" Susie commented.
"…what else is wrong?" Tootie noticed Chloe's fingers grip the sides of her backpack that she held in her lap, sensing the internal war rustling beneath her surface of feigned composure.
Chloe thinned her lips, her mind now a whirlwind of spiraling thoughts. Thoughts of how the fairy equivalents of Gods had enacted their wrath on her mother with the justification of making life better, only for her to not be any better off than when her mother drew breath…if not worse.
Upon poofing back into her room last night, amidst her panic, she had so desperately tried to make her anxiety go away once and for all. Clutching Susie's hands as she cried to her, crying out her wish. Clearly, Da Rules no longer applied, and for once, she thought she finally had an out. She believed she could finally be cured…
Until Susie's wand wilted and spudded in that pathetic, preposterous manner.
A slit formed reactively between her brows, her lips twitching like the vein in her temple. The wish had failed because, apparently, it was still against Da Rules to wish away diseases and disorders. Such blasphemy!
The Council had purposefully broke their own rules! Why do Da Rules even still apply!? Because godparents don't have their level of authority?! If they wanted to make their lives better, then why didn't they make her normal?!
Frowning to Chloe's festering agitation, Susie then met Rose's curious gaze. Asking Chloe if she was okay would only grate her nerves more, so she needed to switch focus, and fast.
"Uh, Rose…" she looked to her friend. "…you and Swizzle get my text in the group chat last night?"
"Yeah." Rose confirmed, dimpling her chin. "I did notice Cosmo, Wanda, and Alondro were the only ones who didn't respond…you think they'll make it?"
Unsure, Susie shrugged. "…I did manage to get a hold of Wanda this morning; those boys gotta 'lot goin' on."
"Right…their grandparents…"
"Yup. As if this upcoming funeral wasn't enough, their grandpa was admitted to the hospital because his heart is failing…"
Tootie clenched her fists in her lap. The Council was indirectly responsible for the heart failure…and directly responsible for the funeral. All because they killed people that never killed anyone, justified as 'revenge.' Poor Timmy…
"I told her I'd still like for everyone to be there so we can all be on the same page, even if for a few minutes." Susie added. "But I also told her I'd understand if they didn't show."
Curiosity piqued, Tootie looked to her teal bracelet. "…why are you guys meeting?"
"I can fill you in later, okay?" Rose assured, thinking that would suffice. Instead, Tootie's arms crossed in a sulky chuff, teary eyes pointed contemptuously.
"Whatever…" she groused, causing Chloe to look up with her gaze fixed in concern.
"Whoa…" Susie's brow puckered at this unnatural shift in Tootie's demeanor. "…what we miss?"
Rose exhaled deeply. "Tootie's mixed on whether her dad deserved what the Council did to him. Vic, Vicky, and Molly, however, are all adamant that he did, and she kind of got hounded for questioning their stance."
"And thinking he deserved it is a bad thing?" Susie questioned. "I mean, like…bro was awful."
"No argument there…" Rose muttered, then briefly bunched her lips. "I still don't understand why Tommy knew about it, though."
"Coz and Wans said Jorgen acted like it was no big deal." Susie commented. "Maybe he's in on something that he's just not tellin' us."
"But why wouldn't he tell us? I mean, you'd think this kind of thing would raise some red flags, no?"
"Maybe under normal circumstances, but this ain't normal territory..."
"But what if Mr. Crocker knows as much as Tommy does? There's no telling what someone like him would do with that information!"
Thumps of pacing beats began to thud rapidly behind the back of the indigo necklace, hearing once steady breaths grow strained. Susie looked to Chloe inhaling and exhaling through her nose with great intent, trying her absolute best to restrain the rising threat of panic.
"…we should table this." Susie advised when she glanced back to Rose. "Y'know…bounce it off the other fairies."
When Rose could see Tootie's diverted grimace, her brows knitted contritely. "Yeah…"
High in the darkened skies, a flag with a blue Toucan painted across white cloth swayed with the gust of morning chill, mounted proud on the red-trimmed platform roof of the white cement building. A platform awning stretched over the cement steps that led towards the two double doors, green shrubbery framed symmetrically on either side of the stairs. Busses lined the sidewalks, offloading students chattering about or strolling in solitude as they absently passed the prominent 'Dimmsdale Middle School; Home of the Toucans' sign.
Stepping off his bus, Dwight slouched as he dragged his feet. Veering off from other students' paths of migrating to the outside picnic tables or hanging out next to the stairs in preparation of beating the crowd when it was time to enter the school. He traveled until he reached the side of the school closest to the metal fence sectioning off the property, isolating himself from kids he was certain would find some reason to give him a hard time. He won't have his only friend at this school for support. Likely not for a while…
"How ya feelin', Wighty?" he heard his medic alert bracelet check in.
"I'm fine…" Dwight mumbled despite the pounding in his head that made him feel a bit floaty, a troubling sensation that had not left him since before leaving his house.
When they had come home from the Fort, it was as if his epilepsy came back with a mighty vengeance. Wrecking him with back-to-back clusters of tonic-clonics that'd stretched for hours with little to no reprieve. It'd been after one in the morning when his fathers finally slugged through the door after long, grueling hours at work, and before flopping into the comfort of their bed, they'd at least made the effort to check in on their son.
Through the room's darkness, they'd found Dwight in bed, assuming the lack of snoring as deep, soundless sleep. They'd been too exhausted to investigate the strings of bubbling froth dripping from his slack jaw, completely unconscious during a calm period after storms of seizures.
Dwight had only gotten a total of a few hours of rest at best. By the time Dwight had come to, his fathers had already left again for another round of long shifts and were not around to deter their son from dragging himself to school.
His godfather took on that role, insisting he stay home. Reminding the consequence of even more seizures that lack of sleep can cause. However, Dwight argued how much school he'd already missed throughout the school year. If he wanted to reach 7th grade along with his class, he couldn't afford to miss again. With that argument, Irving had suggested wishing a clone; that way, Dwight could get rest without missing a thing. Still, that was just the risk he'd have to take; self-disgust and internal shame couldn't bare taking the 'easy route' for having a fit.
If things were meant to be easy for him, then the Council would've stripped his seizures away, too…
Dwight barely turned the corner of the school's wall before he tripped over unsteady feet, tumbling face first to the frosty grass that knocked his glasses crooked.
"I knew you should've stayed home…" he heard Irving utter, groaning as his weak neck struggled to lift his cold face from the grass. Irving was right, and he hated it. He felt like crap, and not having Gary around gave less of a reason to want to tough it out. He still wasn't aloud to wish his epilepsy away, and yet the Council did nothing to rid him off this curse…
The floaty feeling in his head dropped his head back to the grass like a dungball. He just can't win for losing.
Right as he began to consider wishing for a clone, white spots dance across his sight. Floaty sways quickly crashing down like heavy bricks piling up in his skull. Sensing something wrong, the medical alert bracelet transfigured into a dark-teal squirrel, growing worried by the waning focus in Dwight's eyes.
"…Dwight?"
Irving's call sounded fuzzy like cotton had been stuffed into Dwight's ears. He felt his left arm start to tense up in lacking sensation, using his right arm that had just enough strength left to roll him onto his back, though the effort had used the very last of his strength.
Heaviness pinned his sprawled limbs, too languished to lift a fingernail. Empty eyes powerless to the dark clouds swirling and swaying in disorienting waves, worsened by the metallic, gassy scent filling his nose. A droning buzz rang inside his ears, drowning out the crunch of shoes walking across the grass as the entire left side of his body prickled and tingled in a painful numbness that strained his chest, strangling his breaths.
He could make out the hazy outline of someone coming up to him, popping up in front of the sky. Standing over him or kneeling, he couldn't tell through the wobbly tremors of double vision. If the stranger was talking to him, their speech muffled incoherently. The constriction in his throat couldn't respond regardless.
Then, he lost control of his limbs that began to twitch, the white spots stretching into a blur across his world…
The dark-teal squirrel watched as the hunched-back child took off his green and silver scarf, quickly folding it before lifting Dwight's head to lay it underneath to support his head. Rolling Dwight's jerking body onto his right side as he removed Dwight's glasses before they flew off his face. Irving squinted slightly, the familiarity of this boy probing his memory. Recalling him as the same child from the park as Dwight's left side stiffened, his muscle spasms growing aggressive.
"You're gonna be okay…t-this will pass…" Kevin calmly reassured, reciting words that he vaguely remembered his mother always soothing him with right before his mind would go blank and he couldn't hear much of anything.
Kevin counted the Mississippis in his head, having started from the time he'd arrived onto the scene. Trying to time the seizure with no watch as Dwight's spasmic breaths salivated froth that gurgled in his throat. He continued giving Dwight verbal reassurance, pressing a soft palm against Dwight's back. He didn't think Dwight was aware of him, yet he spoke to him anyway. It always helps to feel less alone.
The whites of Dwight's eyes fluttered rapidly, and electric jolts shook his entire body before a darker spot started pooling in the center of his dark jeans. Noticing this, Kevin frowned in second-hand embarrassment. He knew very well what that meant as he'd been in the exact same position before.
Kevin reached 150 Mississippi before Dwight's spasms finally reached its peak and descended into a decline, ebbing into mild jerks. When the spasms came full stop, his limbs fell limp, the last remnants of his seizure still twitching in the corners of his eyes and mouth.
"…Dwight? M-My name is Kevin" Kevin tried. "…can you hear me?"
Soon, only his dilated pupils convulsed, failing to respond as each drawn breath sounded like saliva coagulating in his throat.
Irving felt his heart leap when Kevin looked in his direction, like Kevin had known he was there the whole time and simply hadn't acknowledged him before now. "…do…you think you can…um…?" Kevin pointed a coy finger to the wetness in Dwight's pants, and the squirrel's stare darted between his godchild and this child who seemed privy to his disguise.
He didn't know what to do, and Dwight was in no state of mind to give direction. Acting on his own could set him high on Jorgen's Von Strangle's radar, even if this kid was some Council pawn.
"I-I won't tell anyone…" Kevin quietly guaranteed over Dwight's wet snores, seeing the squirrel's dark-teal eyes wide with doubt. "Dwight's secret is safe with me."
Irving wasn't sure if the risk was greater than the reward. Nonetheless, he retrieved his wand from his fur, held it against his side, and squeezed. A cloud of dark-teal shimmers dried Dwight's underwear and jeans into a fresh pair, and Kevin expressed his gratitude with a timid grin.
"Thanks…"
A series of tired moans turned Kevin and Irving to Dwight trying and failing to sit himself up.
"…I'm gonna help you up, okay?" Kevin offered, but when he extended a helping hand, Dwight wildly swatted at him, slurring incoherent words as the dark-teal squirrel observed Kevin bunch his brows.
"I-I'm sorry…" he apologized as Dwight's eyes cast about, seeming to take nothing in, aimless and empty. "…can you tell me your name?"
His question stalled the dazed boy for a moment, glassy eyes furrowed confusedly.
"…Dwight?" Kevin kept his voice calm, squeezing the temples of Dwight's glasses. "Can you tell me your name?"
Slow hands moved deliberately without any real purpose, grabbing and tugging at the sides of his pants like he was trying to take them off and put them on at the same time.
"...do you know where you are?" He tried not to restrain Dwight in any way, observing Dwight continue to tug at his pants. When his fingers couldn't decide if he wanted his pants off or on, they drifted down and began picking and pulling at the grass.
"Dwight, can you tell me what happened to you?" Kevin asked a question that he already knew the answer to, getting a sense for Dwight's level of awareness.
His fingers seemed robotic like they were scripted but had forgotten their lines, dirt building up under his nails. Murmuring noises and sounds as if trying to speak through loose lips that couldn't form the words.
"…it's okay…take your tim-"
The school bell rang in a resonate, alarming echo that not only caused Kevin to jump, but it startled Dwight in a panicked, disoriented grunt. Shaking his skull in rapid ping-pongs before dizziness flopped him backwards against the grass.
"A-Are you okay, Dwight?" Kevin had waited for the bell to silence before he reached to assist, once again receiving a swift yet flopping smack of his hand away. Pinching his lips, he held the minor pang in his fingers to his chest as Dwight's eyes whirled around. Confused as to why everything was so loud and why the world was spinning so fast…
A tremor entered Dwight's hands, eyes flittering into his head. Tremors grew into violent shakes, hardening up his arms into rapid breaths. In that moment, Kevin ignored his aching hand, maneuvering Dwight's jerking body back onto his side. Directing his head against the scarf as Dwight's left side, from his face to his leg, pulled and tightened so feverishly that his pale skin burned a dangerous red.
As bad as the situation looked, Kevin took deep breaths, trying his best to remain calm. Timing the seizure in his head while contemplating whether he should go fetch an adult like Nurse Judy. He didn't want to leave Dwight alone, though…
Until he met the disquieted gaze of the dark-teal squirrel. "M-May I search his backpack?"
Irving furrowed in hesitation.
"H-He must have s-some kind of emergency drug?" Kevin stuttered. "A-Ativan, maybe?"
Dismissing his suspicions for later, Irving's short nod permitted Kevin to take Dwight's backpack. He unzipped the front pouch, taking little time to find the prefilled Carpuject. Breaking the seal, Kevin twisted the automizer securely on the vile, glancing at the seizure that did not appear to ebb. He guestimated that it'd been roughly a minute and a half since the seizure started up again, and as Dwight's right arm straightened flat, his shaking legs twisted, hardening at odd angles…
…when not even a gurgle escaped as vicious convulsions overtook Dwight completely, Kevin's horror bulged in his eyes. "…breathe, Dwight!"
Kevin gripped the Ativan in one hand as the other struggled to position Dwight's quaking head. Frantic, terrible aim kept narrowly missing Dwight's nostrils, until a turquoise coat of glowing sparkles restricted the convulsions into more manageable spasms.
Perplexed, his eyes flashed to the raised wand sparkling turquoise, gawking at the dark-teal squirrel's grave, urgent look for Kevin to stop staring at him and hurry up. Taking this cue without question, Kevin inhaled, aimed the automizer inside Dwight's nose, and exhaled as his thumb pressed down on the plunger and injected the mist.
Seconds later, Dwight descended into calmer shakes, burbled breaths returning his skin to its normal tone as his eyes drooped drowsily. His body went limp, and the magic that had enveloped him faded. Lowering his dimming wand, Irving coughed a breath he didn't realize he'd choked in. That was too close for comfort…
"Thank you…" Kevin sighed appreciatively, gaining Irving's incredulous glance. "…now…c-can you take us to Nurse Judy?"
Irving stalled, chewing on his lip. Kevin seemed like a good kid, and he was very grateful for his help. He just couldn't get past knowing that this kid was a plant for the Council and likely wouldn't even be here otherwise. Just how long did they plan on using this kid before they change their minds and decide that he, as a fairy godparent, had willingly exposed himself?
"…please?" Kevin piped, cowering from the intensity of Irving's stare. "For him?"
When the squirrel then shifted his gaze to his godchild lolled on his side, he knew he didn't have room to dwell in his doubts. Dwight shouldn't have to suffer because of his insecurity. So, he held out his wand once more, and with an igniting squeeze, the three of them vanished in dark-teal clouds.