That is me; I am perfect.

does that make mal a f*rry

i laughed so hard what is he a muppet

                    the light peeking in from the now-open door is what wakes her, lashes fluttering blearily open as she shifts up on her elbow, peering owlishly at the doorway and the figure drawing nearer. “ mal? ” evie murmurs, though she really needn’t as the shape becomes clear in her vision. violet hair is in slight disarray, and the fae’s cheeks are ruddy, almost as if she’s been—— “ you look awful. ”

                    she sits up immediately, moving the covers to make room for mal as she shifts even further to sling her legs over the edge of the bed. manicured fingers reach for her girlfriend’s to tug her lightly closer. “ what happened, querida? ” there’s concern written in every feature, sleep still weighing at her eyelids but at bay. “ where were you? ”

@bornefae 

            “Thanks.” There’s still some trace left of the strain in her voice from earlier, still some scratchiness from screaming herself hoarse, but she hopes the most of it has faded. “You don’t.” She clears her throat. “Or whatever.” She trudges forward the first couple of steps, but then the draw of being closer to her girlfriend gets strong enough that her strides get longer, faster; she barely needs to get pulled closer by the time she’s reaching her.

    Helena sat in the gardens toward the back of the school. More so a science project for some of the more, greenery-included princesses at AP. She tended to feel more empty here than anywhere else. Maybe it was something to do with the sadness the plants seemed to radiate. Missing the spring as most did when winter months came about. Without a greenhouse, she wondered what could be in such a cold climate. 

    The notebook was opened on her legs, long lines of script marking up each line. Stupid repeated words, sayings she’s heard that day, and just any thought that came to mind. She was BORED. Something her brothers wouldn’t understand. How does one feel more bored being free than when locked up?

    Her interest peaked when she heard a cry in the trees. More or less a cry than anger. PURE RAGE. Something the daughter of death understood very well. She crept through the trees in order to discover what escape from boredom that teased her. In the clearing, she took in the look of the purple haired pixie she had all but stopped thinking about in these last months. Without thinking the dark-haired princess scoffed.

         “What did the trees ever do to you?”

      Mal would jump, if she had the presence of mind to be startled---or the energy to do much at all besides struggle to manage her hiccuping gasps. As it is, the unsympathetic sound both fills her with the usual dread that she’s being seen like this---and with a strange comfort that comes with familiarity. The thing she despises most about hurting here on Auradon is when people fuss over every single display of pain and rush to try and fix it all like she’s something soft and weak that needs others’ help to be held together. She knows she should have outgrown that---but she’s only used to the isle, where empathy was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

      It takes every ounce of her willpower, but she finally forces her sobs down into sniffles, though her breath still comes uneven and sharp and the occasional sharp hitch in her breath still strikes her at unexpected moments. “A-actually, I w-was kind of screaming more at---the sky,” she gets out, voice still breathless and hoarse, and there’s no way to sound casual with her words so mangled by her still-spilling tears. Still, she grits her teeth and tries anyway as she adds, “Though fuck the trees, too. M-making oxygen so that I have t-to keep putting up with everything.” It’s melodramatic, but hey, when isn’t she?

      Finally sparing a glance at Helena, there’s a shift in her expression that even Mal wouldn’t know how to identify---softness, or resignation, or relief or regret; all equally contradictory but still just as likely as the last with only her expression to go off of. She heaves a broken sigh and sits fully on the grass. “I’m---not actually mad at th-the trees,” she says, as though that really needed to be said, before letting herself fall to lay back and stare skyward again.

“ what about red? that’ll compliment your skin tone and your eyes. ” persephone shrugs. “ something you – should remember. blood doesn’t dictate family. ” a smile and a wink. “ i mean, y’know. if you wanted to run off like that … i’d keep your secret. ”

She hums contemplatively, the corner of her lips twisting a little in thought. “Maybe. I was mostly just hoping for something unnatural and way different from what I already have.” Chuckling a little, though the sound is subdued, she does just barely manage a smile.

                     ‛    wow.  okay.    ’    as  he  takes  a  seat  opposite  her  slumped  form  ,  the  prince  feels  as  though  he’s  intruding  on   …   something.  he  isn’t  sure  exactly  what’s  going  on  here  ,  but  she  is  clearly  having  some  sort  of  CRISIS  and  if  remi  is  good  at  anything  ,  it’s  concealing  inner  turmoil.

    ‛    that’s  a  little  too  dramatic on  a  monday  morning  ,  even  for  me  ,    ’    he  isn’t  even  sure  that  the  exasperated  words  were  directed  at  him  and  not  part  of  some  heart  -  rending  monologue     —     he  considers  her  predicament  with  care  either  way.    ‛     maybe  just  start  with  cutting  your  hair  ?   i  like  that  color.   and  it’s  okay  to  be  sad  ,  you  know.  sometime  you  just  have  let  that  shit  OUT  so  you  can  move  on.    ’

      At first, she only lets out a groan in response to his comment, before slowly, reluctantly sitting up in her seat. “My parents are villains---” Is that a note of bitterness in her tone? And buried under it, a hint of despondency? “---I have to be dramatic or I’ll die. It’s in my genes.” She’s trying for a flippant attitude---trying and failing, because she can’t really keep from looking or sounding miserable, and she’s probably a few months past the point of being able to fool anyone into thinking she feels nothing.

      She meets his gaze only reluctantly, an ugly part of her still loathing to be seen when upset. “Maybe. I just want to do something completely different, maybe I could drastically change my hairstyle---again.” Sighing, she feels her brow furrow, and resists an urge to shake her head. “I don’t really want to. Being sad sucks. Letting it out sucks worse. I guess I don’t really have a lot of say in it though given how shitty my---my whole life is---was---I don’t know.”

“ i know hades is – more than rough around the edges.  and he and i have already had this discussion. ” she sighs. persephone can tell this poor girl has been dealt more than her fair share of unpleasant hands in her life.  no need to make it worse.

“ but, you know – i have met your mother. and i know your father on a more than personal level and you are nothing like them. ”

a pause as she sips her tea.

“ the circumstances of our birth should never dictate how we live our lives. i’ve told aeron and his siblings the same. that isle – you may have grown up there, but it doesn’t have to define what you do or how you act. ” another sip.

“ don’t worry about hades, mal. he’ll come around eventually. ”

The expression on her face tightens a little, but her eyes are downcast as she pointedly takes another drink of her tea rather than answer. She mulls it over in uneasy silence for a moment before she says, quietly, “I’m not so sure.”

She may not know all too much about her father aside from a certain apathy they seem to share, but there are certainly echoes of her mother’s treatment of her in the way she chooses to treat others---there are, but she’s not sure she should explain them aloud. She’s not sure she wants to admit those things to someone who’s listening---whose opinion, somehow, matters to her.

She nods, hesitantly but not disbelievingly, although---she doesn’t look entirely reassured.

“ you know — sometimes I think you might be my daughter.” She offers a laugh. “ electric blue, huh. Let me guess. Would this have anything to do with a certain god…”

“That... would be so much better if it were true.” She huffs out a sound that might sound like a laugh in return, if it weren’t so subdued. At the goddess’s question, she opens her mouth to answer, before it hits her and her brow furrows as she pulls a face. “I---oh. I didn’t even think about---”

persephone lets out a small laugh. “ thorns. — clever. ” she mutters, pushing the tea cup toward the girl. she takes a sip before allowing her gaze to fall back to the girl.  as persephone watches her, she tries to find – anything that could undo this mess they’ve been thrown into. but alas – 

“ well, i would blame me, if i did. ”

she can no more hate mal for existing than she could hate any of the other kids from the isle.

“ you didn’t ask for this. i can’t fault you for existing, you had no choice – ”

She ducks her head a little, tugging a shoulder up into a small shrug. It’s almost a smile on her face as she lifts her own tea cup to her lips for a small sip, maybe it would have been one if it weren’t for the uncertainty inherent in the situation.

“Oh. I---oh.” It’s quiet, the surprise seeding itself in her voice, and it takes her a moment or two to wrap her head around it.

“That’s---” She interrupts herself with a laugh, small and just the slightest bit morose, but relief quickly eases the tense of her shoulders and the worry in her brow. “That’s actually the first time anyone’s felt that way about it. I---yeah, it’s true. I really wouldn’t have chosen---any of this situation.”

                                                                  2 toddlers & their nanny starter meme [accepting!]