* ✧ ┋ &&. 𝒫𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑀𝒪𝒩𝐼𝒰𝑀. ☾

         a brief flash of relief runs through his system when he sees nyxxie’s eyes fly open ( oh, thank god ), but it’s almost instantaneously snuffed out when she lets out a high, almost animalistic keen. it rattles his mind, amplifying his headache to the point where he feels as though something might rupture, a blood vessel or a nerve. 

       matty looks on, horrified, as his friend jerks against her restraints hard enough to draw blood. he’s only seen her like this after a nightmare. but then, this i s a nightmare, isn’t it?

        ❛ nyxxie, nyx, shhh… ❜ he tries to keep his tone as soothing as possible, which is a difficult feat when he himself is at his wit’s end, but the last thing they need is for those maniacs in the white coats to hear the commotion and come back. he’d love the opportunity to knock them out on their asses, would happily disembowel them all, but he’s not exactly in a position to do that right about now. ❛ yeah, it’s me. ❜

        he’s shocked into silence when nyxxie makes her admission. ❛ you’ve… you’ve been here before? ❜ HOW? WHEN? he’s looking at the girl in a whole different light now. her usual bubbly persona makes absolutely no sense with this revelation… but the nightmares do. they make all the sense in the world.

       it occurs to him, then, that if he’s here, and nyxxie’s here, then any number of the people he knows might also have been captured. RUBY. matty’s eyes widen in alarm and he immediately begins scanning the bodies around them, looking for a familiar shade of red - but he can only see what he’s facing, with the other half of the room to his back. he jolts a little as he sees people he does recognise: a little way off are spencer and juniper, who are currently wrapped up in their own panicked discussion, judging from their faces. matty’s fingernails are sinking into his palms deep enough to draw jagged lines of pink, as the magnitude of the situation sets in.

        he lets out a nervous laugh, rough as only a chainsmoker’s can be. ❛ whaddaya mean… too late? what’s gonna happen? ❜ morbid curiosity drives him to ask, though he already has more than an inkling. the environment they’re in is a dead giveaway, as is the people who they’ve taken. they’re all mutants, and there’s not much question as to why a group of scientists would take them against their will. 

        and if he doesn’t already have enough to go on, there’s a whiteboard placed conveniently within his vision that reads: 

07/4—gene work does not give an explanation as to why #1257 does not respond to stimulus drugs. 12/4—#1266 shows heightened cognitive abilities. 22/4—#1232 shows no sign of verbal communication, experiments run do not elicit even the smallest noise from them. 27/4—#1201 terminated. brain biopsy to try and understand how #1201 survived birth with their physical deformities.

he should have set fire to them all before they’d even stepped one foot out of the room.

no  ,  no she   w o u l d n ’ t   calm down  ,  COULDN’T  calm down  ,  she needed to rage  ,  rage against the dying of the light  ;  those words  ,  simple words  ,  spoken to her by her  s a v i o u r  ,  the one woman who managed to help nyxxie escape  ,  all those years ago  ,  on the dawn of what would’ve been her last day on this plane of existence  .  many wonder why she threw herself into artistic talent  ,  perhaps that was why  ;  it began with poetic prose and climaxed into something much more morbid and even more all - encompassing  .  and now that’s what she would do  ,  she would refuse to go gentle into the night  ,  she would be their worst nightmare  ,  and they would forever regret forcing her friends into the hellhole that claimed the most traumatic years of her young life  .  

and then  ;  then she heard it  ,  somewhere softly in the distance  ,  the faint murmur of spencer wilde’s voice  ,  and nyxxie lost her ever  - loving mind  . 

I WILL FUCKIN’ KILL ALL’A YOU  ,  LABORATORY BASTARDS ! ! !   is the proceeding scream  ,  a screech so deafening  ,  so blood - curdling  ,  it makes her throat hoarse  ,  mouth dry  ,  eyes water  .  at the same time her adrenaline peaks and she throws her arms down against her chair  ,  attempting to weaken the constraints of the cuffs  ,  or  ,  that’s what she’d like to do  ,  ideally  ,  but in the midst of all her own chaos she’s incapable of processing anything  ,  anything except the fear in the other mutants’ tones and even in matty’s own  ,  nothing except the absence of her spirit friends and the claustrophobic heat of the room around them  .  nothing except the mortified screeches of her own mind  .  but her body’s reacting  ,  thrashing about  ,  desperate to tear the cuffs despite the blistering pain of metal against raw flesh thawing off layer upon layer of blood - stained skin  .  and in  the pain of it all her mouth begins to move  , speak in rushed  ,  hyperventilated breathing  ,  telling stories of a morbid past and a potentially even more morbid future  . 

❝      i was kidnapped  ,  matty   .   by these fuckin’  FREAKS  .  when i was just eleven  .  but i couldn’t remember  ,  not  ‘til  all of ‘em came back  ,  an’ then it was just memories of torture an’ electroshock an’ experiments and drugs an’ sufferin’  .  .  .    they would force me to kill people just to see what would happen to my mutation  .  they’re  m o n s t e r s  .  we’re DOOMED  .      ❞

and as though that unsettling realization wasn’t enough  ,  from somewhere deeper into the laboratory came a young child’s terrifying SCREECH .  and it makes nyxxie jump so bad, dissolving into a fit of panic  ,  blind rage now overwhelming her that she slams her arms against the chair and splits the cuffs in half at the chain  ,  blood pouring freely down her arms now, tainting tan skin with violent rose petals. 

early mourning | the laboratory

NYXXIE. ( @necromvntic​ )

      moving HURT. breathing HURT. as if he wasn’t in enough pain, he became aware of a fierce headache starting to bloom right behind his eyes. all matty wanted to do at that moment was curl on his side, dry heave in his suffering, but something was halting his movement.

     matty’s awareness of anything other than pain increased in pitifully slow increments, as he gradually came to. his sinuses were stinging, an alkaline taste in his mouth, as if he’d been sucking on a battery. no, it was blood - a bitten lip, a bitten tongue, a bitten cheek. he couldn’t move his hands; something was keeping them bound in front of him. black dots swam in his vision. what happened to me?

     the low buzz of hushed chatter in the background registered in his mind next. footsteps, too, and with his eyes now adjusting to the light matty could make out several blurry individuals standing around the room, all in crisp white uniforms. lab coats. and there were others, like himself, some of them coming to like he was. he looked down; his hands were clasped in what looked like cuffs, and try as he did, he couldn’t force them off. some distant part of him urged himself to be calm, but that part was overridden by a wave of sheer, undiluted FEAR. where am i?

      he’d be wondering if this wasn’t just a nightmare, if he didn’t know for a damn fact that his imagination had nowhere near the capability to cook up something like this. he couldn’t remember where he had last been. he had gone to buy cigarettes and other essentials… no, he’d gotten home after that, and then he’d gone to pick up ruby… how the fuck do i get out of here?

     the doctors? scientists? whatever they were, appeared to come to the conclusion of their discussion, voices coldly clinical, and they left the room, farewelled with a sharp hiss from what sounded like an hermetic seal. he couldn’t even work his mouth open to call out after them. all that was left was silence, muffling the sound of his shuddering breaths. matty looked back down at the cuffs, followed their link to another pair of cuffs. his breath caught in his throat, matty only then seeing who was beside him. finally, he managed a hoarse, shaky whisper.

     ❛ nyx? nyxxie. oh shit - please wake up. ❜

              she knows  .  knows where she is before even having to open her eyes  .  knows in just a fraction of a second she’d had her whole life stripped of her once again  ,  claimed by the same monsters who’d deprived her of her freedom  ,  subjected her to years’ worth of torture  ,  denuded of her childhood and  ,  even more detrimentally so  ,  of what it means to be H U M A N  .  she’d suspected  ,  somewhere in her suspended consciousness  ,  that they’d decided to do the same thing again  ;  after the return of the lab rats  ,  following the detonations  ,  this was their goal all along  :  to reclaim the experiments who’d managed to weasel their way out of their tyrannic clutches.  so instead  ,  she would wait  .  maybe  ,  just maybe  ,  if she plays dead long enough they’d forget about her  ,  dispose of her  ,  worthless garbage  .  she’d never once suspect that they’d go so far as to take fresh meat  ,  terrorize a whole new generation of the eternally condemned  .   or at least  ,  not until she hears a muffling sort of sound  . 

                                        ❝                      nnngh  ? ? ?     ❞

              from another world comes the echo of a familiar voice  ,  concerned  ,  beckoning  ,  encouraging  ;  nyxxie wishes to reach out to it  ,  to clasp it in her hands like a fragile  ,  baby bird  ,  wring its neck and hear the shuddering crunch of bone snapping beneath her fingertips  .   h o p e  is a delicate thing  ,  even in the perpetual limbo of unconsciousness  ,  even in the sullen haze permeated by tranquilizers  ,  and she wants nothing more  ,  in that moment  ,  than to stay there  .  asleep  .  forever  ,  even  .  as long as it would take to get out of  h e r e  .   but she isn’t so lucky  ,  because even through clenched lids she recognizes the presence of matty muyskens  .   and that only further begs the realization that others were probably here  ,  as well  .  others like spencer  .  oh  ,  gods  ,  what if they’d taken spencer  .  .  .  

              she jolts awake with a gasp  ,  wheezing  ,  hyperventilating almost instantaneously  ,  thrashing in the seat  ,  against metal handcuffs  ,  against lifeless chairs  ,  throwing her body forward only to reel it back  ,  sputtering  ,  coughing  ,  manic as she struggles against her confines to be  F R E E D  . 

                                       no  .  no this wasn’t happening  . 

              there’s a howl of fear  ,  a final  ,  last - ditch cry of agony as she realizes she’s stuck  ,  trapped  ,  struggling against the cuffs so hard that her wrists begin to bleed  ,  droplets of crimson burble to the surface of her fragile  ,  quaking frame and the HORROR in her eyes is matched only by the tears now streaking down pallid cheeks  .   ❝      m-matty  ?      ❞   croaks she  ,  voice hoarse  ,  uncertain  ,  as though she refuses to accept this was really happening  .  to her  .  to them  .  but through all her whimpers and sobs she manages to crane her neck towards the boy  ,  attempting to anchor herself despite the painstaking realization that she’s now sober  ,  sober and  d o o m e d  ,  panting from the efforts of thrashing herself raw  to avoid the impending flashbacks  ,  constantly threatening to claim the remaining fragments of her sanity.  

~ ░  * ✧ 。☽┋ @thcdestroyer { xxx. }

                        ❝      then why don’tcha just  .                                                  give  .                                                    it   .                                             b a c k   ! ! !      ❞

            she continues like this  ,  mock tears and usual  ,  hyperbole antics  ,   throwing a tantrum like some pitiful child   ,  flailing her arms about   ,    screaming  ,  crying  ,  maybe even  b i t i n g  ,   until some moments pass and she  ,  abruptly  ,  regains self - composure  . 

                        ❝       i’m gonna tell felix you’re bein’ a lil’  B R A T  an’ stealin’ from his favourite student  .   whatcha gon’ do ‘bout that  ,  huh  ,  punk  ?        ❞

            so much for regaining self - composure  ,  in seconds she was morphing again into a more menacing version of herself  ,  teeth bared as spencer’s wolves always did when provoked  ,  cracking her neck with the sound of crunching  ,  dried bones  .  

                        ❝       he’s gon’ be so mad at ya  !  you’re pickin’ on a  k i d  ,  like some  M O N S T E R  .       ❞

~ ░  * ✧ 。☽┋ @joaquinfischer { xxx. }

          whilst generally unprovoked  ,  nyxxie had quite a few clients who approached her with blatant agitation  ,  angered about the level of horror that took place in her beloved HAUNTED HOUSE  .  usually  ,  the keymaster could habituate herself to giggle it off  ,  scare them away with her usual  ,  necromantic antics  ,  convince them that she was downright   c r a z y   and that no one  ,  in their right mind  ,  could ever convince someone as out - of - this - world as nyxxie was to abandon her morbid philosophy  . 

                     usually  ,  such a feat was relatively easily accomplished  .                        usually  ,  the scared pissbabies scuttled off  ,                                       never to be seen in her safe haven again  .  

          but  ‘ usually ’  doesn’t usually cover the times that the latter  ,  upset clients pulled out a gun and threatened her friends with it  .  and so now nyxxie was there  ,  forced to intervene  ,  an agitated sigh escaping chapped lips as she rolls her eyes and steps between the two males  ,  one palm pressed against joaquin’s chest and the other lodged against the bullet point of the stranger’s gun  .  and for a moment they remained there  ,  the three of them  ,  suspended in a deathly thick limbo of uncertainty  ,  until joaquin’s words vibrated around them and had the necromancer bursting into a fit of   h y s t e r i c s  . 

                       only then  ,  after wiping tears from her eyes  ,                         did she choose to acknowledge the absurdity of                        the situation  ,  and meet the plaintiff’s steeled regard                        with an exasperated one of her own  .   

~ ░  * ✧ 。☽┋ @madameviper { xxx. }

                            ❝                    my pleasure !      ❞

            marisol flores was  ,  evidently  ,  one of the  BEST  people to accompany her on the little excursion nyxxie had planned  .  .  .   adventures were a thing of fundamental passion  ,  and a subsequent lack thereof was nothing if not a turn - off of friendship for the beloved thrill - seeker  ;   and  ,  so  ,  when nyxxie first unearthed a not - so - abandoned bunker  ,  one which she assumed could only belong to an occultist group or something of the sort  ,  she’d immediately approached the reptilian charmer in hopes of coaxing her to steal the bunker in its entirety  .  

~ ░  * ✧ 。☽┋ @thecopycvt​ { xxx. }

             Before the inevitable tragedy you KNOW you’re going to witness, you think that you’re ready. That at this point, nothing can really hurt you—not when you spend eleven years, preparing yourself: all those one hundred and thirty two months, four thousand and fifteen days, ninety six thousand and three hundred and sixty hours; all of THAT now dropped onto Spencer’s shoulders. All this time, she lied herself like a con person, trying to trick everyone around her, and in the end, the ONLY fool was herself.

            She could taste blood on her tongue, salt forming in her throat, sorrow filling her insides, lungs burning so hot she forgot how to breathe. Deafening, painful silence surrounded her, colder winds reaching her even through the wall of trees, paralyzed legs were numb until a familiar voice reached her, fingertips pressing into her skin and then she let it go. 

               A SCREAM erupted from her lungs, and muscles failed her instantly — making her slump into a mass of nothing, held only by Nyxxie’s arms. Her memory had failed her before, slowly erasing her parents’ faces, but it took only ONCE glance for it to come back like a SUCKER PUNCH. This very second she would have done a n y t h i n g for her memories just to be taken away, for a lie to be formed on top of that, her story REWRITTEN in her mind. The wolves, they released a series of howls, long and sorrowful, signalling about the fallen, and masking the sound of heartbreak from the ears of too curious. All she managed to do was curl up in her soul mate’s embrace, fingers digging deep into her clothing. 

                                                       The truth wasn’t better.                                                    The truth didn’t set her free.                It did NOTHING but rip into her chest through broken ribs, and twist her heart until it was useless, and the shifter was left choking on her own tears, gasping for air. 

            no  ,   no nyxxie wasn’t expecting that scream at all  ;  wasn’t expecting her to   b r e a k   d o w n  .  spencer’s dopey grins and unique humour was  ,   had  always  been  ,   the one constant in the necromancer’s life and to see all of that  ,  now  ,  coming undone   ,   the spool of the wilde’s sanity just unravelling before her very eyes                 nyxxie  ,  herself  ,  was TREMBLING  .  both from the overwhelming ACHE of watching the one person she loves most in the world now completely crumbling apart  ,   and from an insatiable  A N G E R  ,  a bitter  ,  fiery  HATRED towards whoever did this  ,  whatever monster  ,  cruel  ,  heartless  ,  unforgivable  .  .  . 

                        spencer deserves  better  .  spencer deserves so  ,  much better  . 

            quivering fingers cling desperately to her best friend  ,  supporting her  ,  a futile attempt at keeping the two  g r o u n d e d  .  her other hand is brushing tears off spencer’s face  ,   combing through her chocolate locks  ,  lips pressed against a tearstained cheek   ,   peppering it with soft  ,  gentle kisses  .  she knew the loss of parents  ,  the bitterness of sudden death  ,   knew the grieving process was arduous  ,  but also that  ,  some day   ,   after the tears and the screeches and the emptiness   ,   a forgiving afterwards would come  .   and nyxxie was determined to support her best friend until then  ,  until she was completely healed  once more  ,  and even after that  .

            ❝      look at me  ,  spencie  ,  please  ,     ❞    attempts she again  ,  rubbing slow circles along her best friend’s back  .   she’d opened her mouth to speak  ,  but quickly shuts it  ,  brows furrowing for a moment as an inexplicable aura befalls the vicinity  ,  the necromancer attempting to distinguish the energy from the howling of the wolves and the wilde alike  ;  cancelling out the background noise and focusing only on the ghost - like whispers of something  ,  or rather  ,  someone  ,  far away   .  .  .                                                                                                        t h e r e  . 

@necromvntic

               With all of the people coming back, dead or alive, Spencer had a tiny piece of HOPE buried somewhere in her chest, that her parents—or even one of them—would be back, too. However, it was not the case, and that spark was slowly lost as days went back, as the tragedy occurred occupying all of her thoughts and pushing secondary problems even further down the line. She had slowly healed, and now only dark spots remained that will turn into scars, a memory forever imprisoned on her skin.

                 It was then that she started taking walks again, and went out for a run through the forests that she had missed so much, breathing in heavily the fresh air, scents filling up her lungs and positively overtaking all of her senses. After a while she stopped, one of the wolves accompanying her brushing against Spencer’s thigh, nudging her with its nose gently. She had never understood the FEAR of them, but she might have been a little bias. From a young age she felt connected to these animals, and then, when two important pieces from her life were taken away, they took her in and ACCEPTED her more than any humans ever did. They weren’t that ruthless, or dangerous—not to her they weren’t. Spencer still remembered the day when she woke up between a napping pack, her heart jumped just like——

                 NOW. Only by a corner of her eye she noticed something unusual, a figure, a HAND. “Hello?” She called out, but there was no answer, thus she went closer to inspect, lest there was someone who needed help, or even medical attention, and——

                                                                        “..MOM?”

                 A stiff, cold and already beginning to wilt body was left there to rot into the ground, Spencer’s knees going weak in SECONDS, and she didn’t even realize they were already hitting the grass, bruising themselves into rocks and fallen branches. Her eyes traveled, rib cage filled with shock so much that her gaze was the ONLY thing that moved, and that’s when she saw another body, this time not needing to come closer to know whose it was. Any other time rather vocal, Spencer found herself unable to let out another sound, it all stuck in her throat like a sharp edged rock. Seconds turned into minutes and perhaps even hours as she sat there on the forest floor, dampness seeping into her clothing, cold reaching her still sensitive skin. After some time her fingers dialed a number she had memorized like her own name, the ONLY person she could let see her like that, her voice a weak whisper with lips dry, and face itching from tears.

                                                       “Nyxxie.. Something happened.”

              in the deranged  ,  deluded  haze of her hallucinations  ,  nyxxie had begun to rewatch the fall of aglæca on repeat  .  it was a morbid movie  ,  each time she re - imagined the scene it metamorphosed into something of more grandeur until  ,  finally  ,  the bombs were not bombs but METEORITES and the mutants were thrusted into extinction as the dinosaurs once had been  .   only then  ,  at that final stage of hyperbole did nyxxie finally pull herself from her reveries  ,  five days later and having not eaten or slept once  ,  she was  ,  literally  ,  a member of the walking dead  ,  and was about to sleep for the first time since the explosions only to receive a phone call from none other than spencer wilde  ,  herself  .

              actually  ,  she hadn’t seen her best friend since that one occasion following the detonations  ,  assumed she’d been fine  ,  since  ,  you know  ,  it   w a s  spencer and she could definitely handle herself  ,  but the other’s tone of voice across the line proved the necromancer was nothing if not horribly mistaken  ,  and so with a rushed  i’m coming  murmured into the receiver  ,  the oracle let her instincts  {   and spirit companions   }  guide her to the location of her best friend  .  .  .

              it took maybe six minutes for her to arrive  ,  presence announced by the heart - stuttering snap of dried twigs under feet  ,  and the proceeding scene was enough to absolve nyxxie of any exhaustion  ,  sober her up completely  ,  and have her sprint the rest of the way over to clutch her soulmate in her arms  .

                        ❝      spencie  ,  i’ve gotcha now  ,  you’re okay  ,  alright   ?                            i’m here  ,  i love ya so much  ,  i’m not gon’ leave ya  ,  spence  .  .  .     ❞

              she continues like that  ,  voice a delicate linen  ,  velvety soft  ,  unlike anything most people would ever experience from the slightly psychotic brunette  ;  but with spencer  ,  it was different  .  the shapeshifter was the exception  ,   always had been  ,  always would be  .  and she’d failed her vow to herself  ,  to protect her at all costs  .  failed it after she’d nearly forgotten to cheat death  ,  after she almost lost her forever  .  .  .

Nyxxie had been living in town for YEARS, for as long as she could remember, really, and she’d never once received the same two instructions on the wheel ; in fact, she’d never had to work together with somebody to complete a task before, so she supposed this would be a week of firsts, really. STEALING with her ability was something quite easily done, but the allegation that it had to be HER hands physically touching whatever was stolen and not one of her undead companions had the petite brunette in an aggravated mood a l r e a d y .

That said, she needed to be on her best behaviour if she would work together with this boy who she could’ve sword she’d never before met. So she grinned almost sadistically, that haunting smile for which Nyxxie had become notorious, and stuck her hand out towards the male to shake.

      She was only ONE of those who were not so lucky to be at the town’s square as it all went to hell and beyond—and one of those who’s flesh was touched by the hungry fire that blazed everything. Cuts in her skin, half of her body BURNED enough for it to stay, and no shock helped her push away the pain. Second degree at the least, she could already tell as Spencer tried to muster up enough strength to get up from the ground, and to push debris away from herself, wood and other things pressing her legs. 

      Spencer could swear she had blacked out for a second, wasn’t sure how much time she had spent on the cold ground with a high pitched noise between her ears and heart pumping so hard she could feel it through her skin, pulse hitting her eardrums. Finally the shifter got up, one hand against a still-standing wall for support: shorts, tank top burned, right half of her body bright red and skin peeling in some parts, BLISTERS already forming—ugly and deviously painful. She began walking, slowly, searching for something—anything. With so many screams around her she wasn’t even sure which direction to turn, her brain still in a state of panic, yet to grasp what just happened. One minute she was crossing the square to get to her work, legs carrying her fast, and another she heard a loud sound, felt wind and heat and then there was nothing. 

      Suddenly, as she walked around the corner, a figure caught her eye—a semi familiar face to the dizzy brain, name forgotten. “Hey! Hey you! Are you alright? Do you need help?”

              The revelation had come in the form of a scar, both physical and METAPHORICAL, which now inscribed within the confines of her mind the memories missed from all those years ago. And now that they had commenced, well. Nyxxie couldn’t AVOID them. Not even the escapist resolution of a drugged haze could induce the numbness necessary to combat this swell of sentiments. Indeed, Nyxxie was officially out of CONTROL, bombarded by perhaps the worst, possible thing that could ever happen to her, she was off-kilter. So she’d spent the time of the mutants’ arrival   submerged   in her own tears, watching reality wash away into something far more whimsical, the spirits of her ghost friends now metamorphosing into twisted creatures, fresh out of a Tim Burton’s take on Wonderland, demented and hauntingly beautiful in their own way. She’d grown so fixated on the morbidity of it all, of the desperate CRIES emitted from the mouths of those close to the dearly departed, of the stench of burning FLESH which rose and fell with the ashes of the pyre, basking all of Aglæca in its glory, that her engrossment dominated each of her conscious thoughts. Nyxxie was LOSING her  m i n d . 

              But something was nagging her still, beckoning her back to the hellfire that was her once beloved town, an even more pressing memory, death related, too, but her mind begged for her to consider none other than Spencer Wilde    ---    

              Today was the DAY. An ‘x’ engraved on Death’s agenda, with the target aimed at her own best friend’s face. She had to move quick. And so she did. But late she was in her cheating of death, and so she’d dashed into the direction of the most important person in her life, willing her instincts to guide her, eyes wide at the sight of the fearless Spencer now staggering with pain as she attempted to speak to some uninjured bystander. But the Keymaster would have none of that, and with a wavering determination she grabbed the Wilde by her wrist before the other could protest and hauled her over to  S A F E T Y .

—NYXXIE.

      —♛ It was difficult to decipher how she felt about the other, a combination of emotions swam to the surface as she looked at her with pursed lips. Respect mixed with wariness were the most potent, but she couldn’t help but wonder why the other constantly visited HER husband and that bothered in a way that shouldn’t— which made her all the more angry. ❝ I hate them sometimes, ❞ a hand quivering with restrained chaos pushed a single hair strand out of her forehead. ❝ Sometimes I hate him too. ❞ Offering no further explanation she sighed dramatically, as if the simple sentences drained all matters of energy to mutter. 

@necromvntic

                 ❝       Him ? Ya mean the Hubby himself, snarky lil’ Mental Man, or whatever his name is ?     ❞    She KNEW Felix’s name, of  c o u r s e ,  but she couldn’t be bothered with such MUNDANE details in a moment as intricate as this one; where Beatrix, herself, was exhibiting a moment of weakness, and the proceeding GOSSIP would be too juicy to pass up. But Nyxxie meant no overt HARM, naturally, she was only   dwelling   in her musings, in those cotton candy moments that made her appreciate fractions of her life, the rare sorts which pulled her from her constant haze of revery into something more concrete and REAL. Usually, she loathed it, but in times of piqued interest, she’d let that irritation subside, quell into something less INVASIVE.