REBIRTH.

mind over matter.   an independent, selective, and fandomless psychokinetic oc, exploring the rediscovery of self, unrelenting compassion, and coming back strong. 18+ and mutuals only. loved by reed.   #maskinesis.

     CIRCE HATES PITY. there is something treacle-sweet and poison-bitter about it, when people feel it for her, when people look at her with too-sad eyes and smiles that aren’t happy. luckily, it isn’t pity that occupies camille in this moment. pity and sympathy are different things, or varying shades of similar things, or close but different enough to not feel as irritating on the receiving end. circe smiles back, wider than usual, and nods while bumping her elbow back against camilles. COMRADERIE is difficult to come by for circe ; she knows she is difficult to HANDLE, but camille is -  - - nice. kind. patient.

     “soup sounded - sounded - sounds good. it was, will rain, soon. twenty-two minutes sixteen seconds.” she peers up at the heavy clouds that will only grow worse in the intervening twenty-two minutes. twenty-one. circe lets her mind drift to the diner and she nods, gesturing with spindly hands in the direction of the diner. “mary is going to - be our server. she, she’s kind. friendly, uhm - - - her son, matt, is … doing well, too.” it’s nice to feel like she can let words flow around someone, facts about someone circe shouldn’t know - - - she’s careful not to let slip anything TOO PERSONAL, of course, but there’s something about speaking out loud what she knows that alleviates a bit of the pressure that builds in her skull.

          twenty-two minutes, sixteen seconds.   the specificity of it makes camille’s head whirl, and that’s even before the names begin. still, she’s glad for the smile that breaks across circe’s face. recognizing her relief brings one to her own, too, a shy chuckle slipping from the corner of her mouth, a loose lock of hair tucked back to reveal the brilliance of it.

          ❝ sounds like mary’ll have some great recommendations, then. soup it is. ❞

          camille falls into a comfortable silence for a moment, a typical thing at circe’s side; her gait moves a bit faster at first, leading the way out of instinct before remembering it doesn’t make much since to. matching the other’s pace again, she pulls in a breath, the breeze brisk with the oncoming storm. something like 19 minutes now, she supposes; only one of them could know for sure.

          weaknesses.   upon first meeting camille, you will notice how gentle she handles you, offering a smile and a conversation when the quiet loneliness between you two strikes. because of this, it’s easy to forget that her abilities are overpowering and, if provoked, terrifying. camille should not be underestimated, and doing so at her ( or the people she loves’ ) expense will not end well for you. that being said, there are limits to her powers— some she knows about, and some she doesn’t.

unconsciousness.   given that camille’s ability is psychically linked to her psyche, she does not have the cognizance to move things in her sleep, even if she's familiar with the environment when she’s awake.

blindness.   this inhibition is not unlike when she’s asleep, though being blind only dampens her powers versus completely stopping them. as camille’s psychic shield can go off even without her being aware of it, the space around her automatically becomes a sort of bubble of self-protection when she feels endangered, and can rarely be penetrated without the assistance of other weaknesses.

mood.   camille struggles with bipolar ii, and though she’s received treatment and medication for it, she still has depressive episodes from time to time. her abilities have always been greatly affected by what she’s feeling in the moment, and her melancholy makes it no different. it is extremely difficult for her to even call an object towards her when she's down, which irritates her to no end considering it means she has to get up and do it on her own. if you enter the room she's cooped herself up in, the air will feel physically heavier, almost like you're wading through water. as to not expose her abilities ( and vulnerability ), she will rarely let people in when she’s low.

intoxication.   camille hardly ever drinks, but when she does it’s evident not only by her demeanor ( she gets silly when she’s tipsy ), but by the sloppiness of her abilities. her movements are slow, shaky, and often fail, causing her to drop things and lose the normal strength of her powers.

sedation.   if someone is looking to tamper with camille’s ability, sedation is ( unfortunately ) the best way to go. just being asleep is enough to stop her powers, but drugging her prevents her from grounding herself enough to use them again when she awakens. camille has extreme anxiety regarding medication because of her mother, so sedation is a very real fear for her that may even contribute to this deficit.

dear @spiritdreamt​,

          i’m so glad we’re doing this.

          did you ever have a penpal as a kid? i did. we had a program at school and everything. i was assigned someone somewhere out west— utah, maybe?— and i was so unbelievably excited. i spent the whole night before putting great stake into our very first letter! this was before my father passed, and he’d gotten me this huge sticker book for my birthday. god, i loved that thing. i made sure every sticker counted; i think the only space left on the envelope was for our addresses, and that’s not including the letter itself. and, can you believe it, he never replied! i must’ve checked my mailbox each morning for two weeks straight, but a letter never came. all that hard work— all my favorite stickers— and it hadn’t even mattered. i was so upset. i cried for days! i was so sensitive back then, even more than now. i remember gabe coming in and sitting on the floor with me one night. you can’t expect everything from anyone, he said. i’m sure he meant ‘anything’, but the sentiment still stands. expecting compassion lands you in trouble— even hurts, sometimes, more than it should. and yet, we still do it, don’t we? still cross our fingers for the little things we deserve. perhaps it is humanity’s greatest flaw. still, i hope we never lose it.

          ... anyway, enough reminiscing ( can you tell i’m a poet? ). things are fine here— mostly. summer is turning into the busiest season i’ve seen so far; bella’s even had to stop by a couple of times to get through the rush. i keep telling her i’m fine. hana’s a handful already ( and the cutest baby! ), i don’t want her to stress herself out, especially when this was supposed to be a favor. but bells is anything but compliant, and she always shoos me away with that stubborn kindness of hers. you’ll see what i mean when you visit— which better be soon!

          oh, wow! i’ve really rambled! i must be making up for all that lost time with my first penpal. how are you doing? drinking enough water, eating alright? how’s the big apple? those actors better not be giving you too much grief. let me know if i need to knock a little sense into them; i’ve always got a few tricks up my sleeve. ;)

          i hope you aren’t missing me as much as i miss you! i’m counting down the days 'til i can see you again, even if neither of us know when. please take care of yourself, percy. i need you all in one piece.

          sincerely yours ( and yours truly ),

           camille

Amelia could see other people in a deeper way than most were capable of; she could see inside of them, easily pick all the secrets apart. It had been an extremely useful skill because weaknesses eagerly introduced themselves before her. Most people met them as unwilling secrets. Despite her best efforts, it was instinct to study those she came into contact with. She was already adding up the stranger leading her like an equation to distinguish the best ways to use her, to hurt her if she needed to. The answers presented themselves and Amelia clenched her fists, nails digging into the palm of her hands. The woman had done nothing but offer kindness and she already had different ways to tear her apart.

Nearly about to turn, she crossed the threshold and the scent and ease of the space trapped her first. Amelia should not be submitting to comfort, but her worn skeleton desperately wanted to rest. Her tongue and throat felt dry suddenly, feeling so thirsty. With the stranger’s back turned, Amelia deemed it safe enough to gulp down the rest of the cold cocoa. She quickly licks at the liquid clinging to her upper lip, wiping what she couldn’t reach with the back of her arm; the evidence needed to be eliminated.

The dark thoughts that had taken residence in Amelia’s head were swept to the side as the feline came scampering forward to meet her. She crouched to hover at a lower level; hand did not reach nor urge for interaction, merely held out. She let the cat choose when and how. Soft fur rubbed against long fingers an she very gently scratched at his chin. 

❝ Hello, Edwin, ❞ she greeted softly. As much as Amelia wanted to chirp and coo in a high-pitched voice, she had an image to maintain. ❝ My name’s Selene. ❞ The lie was so effortless; it had been easier than breathing out. ❝ Nice to meet you. ❞ Fingers handled Edwin delicately, even in their eagerness to pet him. The imposing presence she attempted to hold melted the more he enjoyed the scratching of the manicure against his chin and ears. ❝ I will not tell you that you are cute, because you’re probably already intimately aware, ❞ she whispered down toward him before finally rising to her feet.

She cleared her throat, attempted to recover the image she’d been attempting to paint. She lost it the minute she brought up Twilight, why was she even trying ? ❝ Thanks for inviting me. ❞ She wasn’t sure why the gratitude, it was a public place and she could enter as she pleased. ❝ The drink too, it was good. ❞

         camille knows a thing or two about walls.   she is both the architect and the home of her past, housing ghosts and stuffed memories beneath the floorboards, the heart of it ticking menacingly in her ear. she knows what it’s like to hide things just as well as she hides herself, brick over broken brick. so to say that the woman has her guard up is an understatement, the attempt at politeness harboring barbed edges, rusty with age.   fair enough,   camille thinks. she can allow her that keeping. god knows she’s got enough secrets of her own.

         selene. it’s a lovely name, though one she doesn’t linger on long. instead she’s caught giggling at edwin’s antics, his purrs filling the space between them. once the woman pulls back she clicks her tongue against her teeth, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. ( their distance doesn’t have to negate her kindness. )   ❝ seriously, it’s no problem. like i said, it’s the off season, so really, you’re doing me a favor. bella hates throwing stuff out. we try to be as eco-friendly as possible, if you can’t tell. ❞   she says, gesturing loosely at the knick-knacks and baubles that litter the store. after a second she makes a surprised sort of face, tilting her chin up to say,   ❝ oh! uh, not bella, by the way. camille. friends call me cam. ❞