#2kiras

　　█　　✱　　good luck, babe ! by chappell roan 　　█　　✱　　feel by fletcher 　　█　　✱　　you get me so high by the neighbourhood aha 　　█　　✱　　heat waves by glass animals 　　█　　✱　　friends by chase atlantic

@2kiras liked for a plotted starter .

the councilor stands at the blackboard, t a p p i n g the chalk lightly against an open palm as his mind shifts through possibilities. every word he'd been trying to digest in the books upon books upon books he'd devoured. books from doctors, scientists, old age healers ... books about mages, the arcane. looking for answers that he had no choice but to find. viktor's life was held in the balance, and jayce refused to believe that after everything, this is how it would end.

he'll readily admit he was desperate, that he'd been willing to do whatever it took and that is E X A C T L Y what he did. and he didn't regret that. but now ... he was at a loss for what to do. he'd been carefully tracking viktor's vitals to the best of his ability, checking on him, trying to test whatever encasing the hexcore had generated around him. he'd tried to pull him out. all to no avail, which lead him back to research. from viktor's notes, to books, to scrolls.

jayce hadn't left the room since the night of the explosion. he'd only gotten patched up himself after a doctor was brought into the lab to do so. he'd refused any further attention. after all, he was fine. he'd survived. and he desperately tried not to regret that.

since he was left alone, he r e f u s e d most visitors. not as though there were many. aside from his limited circle of actual friends and family. those he did care for were busy with their own grief, and things that needed their attention. particularly caitlyn. he hated that he couldn't be there. he planned on going at some point, to at least offer his condolences. but the idea of leaving viktor a l o n e ... he couldn't do it. he had to wait until someone could take his place. he thought maybe his mother. he makes a mental note to call for her before a firm knock on the door jostles him from his thoughts.

Emily understands revenge, see. She understands rage. Josh had a vengeful streak in him, and a rightful, vindictive anger that he let simmer for a year, just to let it all out on that one night. Maybe nobody else gets it, but she does. So no, she can't bring herself to fight against his knife-sharp grief, but she can't bring herself to not hate him a little bit either.

Hate's so much harder to let go of than it is to embrace. He should know this too.

Josh mumbles: I'm not happy here. And I don't think you are either. @2kiras

The world feels more alien than it used to be, Emily thinks. Or perhaps she's the alien now, something not altogether right anymore, a new version of herself unable to fit into the same old boxes. She hates too, how it seems no one else understands this but Josh. “If you're about to suggest something moronic and cliché like we should run away together, I'll punch you.” She makes this threat around the rim of her mug, shooting him an unimpressed look. “But it's not like anyone's gonna miss us,” she adds on after a sip of too-bitter coffee. She thinks of the threads connecting her to everyone fraying, how Matt's probably happier without her, how Mike tried to kill her then tried to forget her, how she still can't be in the same room as Ashley without wanting to sink her sharp nails into her throat and tear.

The thing is, seeing Chris is like being put back on that mountain, being back in that basement watching him as he watches Mike level the gun at her head and saying nothing. She licks the back of her teeth, frustration on the cusp of boiling over. Chris would've liked that, wouldn't he? Seeing her brains blown out? Quiet, for once. If he could've picked who came out the other end with him, she's sure she would've been last on the list.

It's a shame nobody ever gets what they want.

Chris sighs: This is too big for us. @2kiras