rules for haunting:

"What did you learn today?"

"Have you finished your homework?"

"How old are you now?"

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Put it under your pillow for the Tooth Fairy."

"Because I said so!"

"As long as you're under my roof, you'll live by my rules"

"You're grounded"

"Don't you use that tone with me"

"Beds are not made for jumping on!"

"You'll understand when you're older"

"Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Bed time"

"Do you want a bedtime story?"

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"Where are your parents?"

"Are you being bullied?"

          “okay.”

          she doesn’t mind showing him. it’s not as bad as it used to be – more controlled, more precise. she straightens, casts a glance around the living room, and tries to find something she and roman won’t miss. there’s a vase of flowers she’d picked up from the corner market last week, half of them wilted and dying now, and – it’ll do. 

          keeping some distance between herself and gideon, she crosses to the coffee table, kneels beside it. when she reaches for the vase, she’s more nervous than she has any right to be – she’s afraid he’s going to see this and run, but she hopes for the opposite. though she doesn’t have to anymore, she places a hand on the side of the vase, feels heat spread down from the bends of her elbows to the tips of her fingers and, a moment later, the entire vase is gone, the flowers with it. all of it lays in a fine layer of ash on the tabletop and over the book she’d been reading earlier.

          “– see?”

          he’s wary of everything.  of the way she moves,  of what she picks up,  of where she goes.  he watches her and he waits for something big to happen  (  like maybe she’ll throw the vase at him.  bash it over his head.  his hands shake at the thought,  worried.  )  

          ❝ who said ya’ can’t ‘elp people now? ❞ or do bad things to them, he thinks. kill them. stick your knife in their throat. pounce on their back and stab them repeatedly. break their wrists, arms, fingers, noses because they thought they could get away with touching you or exploiting you or acting like you don’t understand a thing or can’t do a thing all because you’re small.

     as the words leave his mouth, the change happens —— purposefully slower than she usually does it. her true form starts to appear, in the middle of her face, her fingertips and, unseen, her feet. then, spreading across her stomach, until the shift has feathered all across her body and she stands in front of him, waist-length red hair, gold eyes, and in all her gloriously blue, scaled skin. “look again. you have your backpack, and i have my faces, but underneath it all, we’re both the same.” 

       “good point. i’ve been eating too many donuts lately,” gently, and slowly, he reaches for his hand. it’s nothing an alcohol swab and some warm water won’t clear up. unfortunately, he has neither on him right now save for a water bottle. “is it okay if i dump some of this water on your hand?”

with a click in his throat as he swallows, he’s reminded of raven — what he imagined she was like, what he has pieced together from the very few times they have talked about her scavenging, blue-lensed childhood. narrow-shouldered, scared. alone. so many of them grow up like this. it doesn’t make erik any less intimidating, but it tightens his chest.

“i can keep you safe. i can bring you somewhere where you don’t have to hide.” 

“i have taught other people how to fly.” he doesn’t admit that his role in that was throwing someone off a satellite. “there are more of us like you. you don’t have to be scared.”

          safe  --  safety was a lie.  he couldn’t remember his parents faces anymore,  but he could hear their voices.  sometimes in his sleep,  promising him through the nightmares that had begun early.  (  it didn’t matter in the end.  )   they didn’t keep him safe.  

     “Well, that’s not enough.”

     Alice waits for a break in his chewing, her hands wrapped around her backpack straps. Sometimes she’ll crouch down to a kid’s level when she talks to them, but in this case she stays on her feet, statue-like. Guardian-like.   “You don’t have to be alone out here, if you don’t want to be. Picking at scraps. You know that?”

A GENTLE SMILE.   energy still pulsates,   buzzing across her skin from the small display of well - honed power.       ❛      i was born with this             but i learned how to use it.   pretty cool,  huh  ?       ′  

  “I’ll bite you back.” They gnash their teeth at him. A pause. “Huh. Why are we biting. What kind of animals are we.”

     “Now, why didn’t I think of that… Maybe I need some new friends.”   Matt is… not really sure what he’s doing right now. But he figures if the kid is laughing, it’s safe to ask him a question or two. Find out if his parents are anywhere around.   “I’m Matt. What’s your name?”

   ah ! so he is alone.  “    more or less,    “  her own vague answer in counter. tic-for-tat. diosa knows some famous people, of the go to the met gala caliber.

    “if it makes you feel any better, 90% of that staring was just me staring off into space.” gotta love that adhd brain.