girl / run.

(   a girl in the shadows, chipped nails & messy braids, the sharp sting of longing.   )   ▸    welcome to latverion, AMY BENDIX. it’s time to be gracious, for in this vast multiverse, you have been saved by emperor doom. according to records you are 20 and use SHE/HER pronouns. emperor doom expects you’ll enjoy your career as STUDENT/GRIFTER, or else. excellent. we look forward to your contribution.

❛   that’s  what  stalkers  say.   ❜  she  finds  herself  remarkably  calm  for  a  girl  that’s  absolutely  just  been  poorly  tailed  into  the  bathroom  by  the  world’s  worst  stalker.  in  total  fairness,  they’re  at  a  college  and  cassie’s  just  come  out  of  a  lecture  that  was  alarmingly  close  to  boring  her  into  a  full  fledged  nap.  it’s  just  not  exactly  the  most  threatening  location.  she  glances  over,  one  half  of  blonde  pulled  into  a  temporary,  messy  low  bun  and  the  other  actively  being  rebraided.  she  can’t  help  but  think  it’s  kind  of  funny,  that  the  question  doesn’t  super  help  the  whole  ‘im  not  a  stalker’  case.  curious  and  unworried,  she  nods.  ❛   yeah,  worst  class.  listening  to  all  that  before  noon  should  be  a  crime.   ❜

||     “  I MEAN TECHNICALLY,   STALKERS SAY     just about everything.   anything that we do.   i’m pretty sure there’s a stalker out there that’s said that’s what stalkers say.  ”     she isn’t really helping her case.   like,   at all.   amy doesn’t think about it like that,   though.   in fact,   she’s pretty comfortable here,   what for having actively and actually trailed the girl from class.    “  it also doesn’t make a lot of sense.   like,   i’m pretty positive half of what we’re learning about doom’s history has to be made up.  ”    with ease,   amy slides back up onto the row of sinks,   cautious to not go back too far.   stalker allegations she can handle,   but falling ass first into a sink  ?  she’d never recover.    “  i still need  ...  a partner.   for that thing assigned like,   two weeks ago.  ”

it took frank too long to admit that he would never likely find amy here. the kid, despite her flaws - was truly too good to end up in a living prison like latverion. still, it didn’t make it easier to swallow the fact that she just might be gone for good - and if he could pull his head out of his ass for once he’d stop to think that if she was here then maybe that was almost a good thing. then amy would have a chance to actually live.

even if it was under doom’s control. he spat at the ground, making his way through the shortcut of the recycling plant when he saw her. he stared - not entirely trusting his judgement - but had a glimmer of hope that it really might just actually be her.

but then she spoke and immediately he couldn’t deny it any longer. this was absolutely amy. “what’d i tell you about keeping your back to people? one day one bigger than you might grab you and run off.” he chastised - though there was warmth in his tone, a hint of a smile on his lips as he hoped she’d recognize his voice. “you sort through garbage for a living now?”

||    IT WAS EASY TO DREAM ABOUT REUNIONS.    to pretend,   to act like she’d have everything together.   amy has always been a bit of a dreamer,   a bit of an exaggerator  —  this rough and tough persona she has is just that  :  a persona.   there was a softness underneath,   some kind of a girl who never actually got the warmth she deserved.   it’s hard to think about,   even harder to act on.   amy thinks she can keep it together,   all of the time  —

but that was just simply not correct.

she’s wondered if frank was okay,   because of course she had.   he was the only person she’d really had left to consider family,   and when the world went dark,   she was too far away to even see him.   she hadn’t expected to see him here.   in fact,   half of her is still convinced this place is a freaky brain simulation she’s created,   and she’s really just dead. 

amy spent the next few years after parting ways with frank in a marine life program dedicated to exploration and rehabilitation. she learned an intensive amount, and up until the world began imploding, she’d been settling into a slightly more normal life. 

she is deeply interested in marine conservation and exploration still, but the skills don’t serve her so well here in latverion. she’s relying more heavily on what she’s learned in the past  —  which is why she thinks grifting is what was chosen for her, here. it’s a skill. one that can be used for a lot of different things. 

||     IT’S COLD OUT,   TONIGHT.      it shouldn’t be,   not when the summer blazes hot during the day,   when amy spends so much of her time on campus sweating her balls off,   pretty much.   but well  —  it is.   she’s making her way out of the building and,   honestly,   it’s hubris that has her defenses lowering.   amy feels like she’s made it out unseen. 

she won’t get into technicalities,   but she does,   in fact,   get caught.

||     “  I’M NOT STALKING YOU.  ”     it’s not really the best thing to say re  :  proving your innocence,   nor is a silent,   echoing bathroom the best place to say it,   but it comes rushed from amy’s mouth before anything else can be said.   if she winces,   the only person who sees it is  —  well.   maybe doom.   she’s not sure if he’s all knowing,   but amy thinks it’d be kind of fucked up if he could see into a bathroom.

off topic,   though.   she snaps back to it.

||       SOME KIND OF GRIEF,  PERSEVERING.      some kind of loneliness left in the bones of a girl,   even when everything else was taken from her.   it stays,   like a curse.   maybe it’s why she finds other broken people so easily,   those that are also kind of longing - lonely - left.   here,   though,   amy hasn’t really found anyone.   not yet.

that isn’t totally fair to say,   not when there’s a whole resistance movement happening and she was quietly assessed for it,   talked to about it  —  but still.   she’s a distrusting gal,   what can she say  ?