The narrative lays out before you, and yet not everything is revealed. You see the paths and branches, but you cannot reshape them. You have the power to see everything that Avonis does, but unlike Avonis you have a choice of narrative.
I present you with options. These options might slightly change small details of the narrative, but they are no less set in stone. It is for you to decide what you would like to see next.
And if you have no idea what's going on, here's a link to the first installment of what is hopefully to become a short series: boop!boop!
So with that said, and you're familiar with the narrative, I present to you your first choice. Who should Avonis talk to first about this ordeal. His son Dhavra, or the Overseer of the caverns Ribrel?
==>Talk to Dhavra or ==>Talk to Overseer Ribrel
There are no right or wrong answers. The narrative will come full circle. Some things that do not happen now might happen later, or it might not at all. We are allowing you to pick and choose parts of Avonisâ story that will be brought to light
We hope to make this narrative slightly more interactive than the usual plots you see here. Asks are still open for any character featured in the narrative. Above all, we hope you have fun with this (or at least, I do. Something tells me Mystical doesn't really care).
Any future installments and things relating to the series will be called Telltale and can be found under the same tag!
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Harry stood frozen staring in disbelief at the wand pointed at his face. The elderly grey haired man pointing it at him wore a sneer that Harry had only seen on the likes of Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape's faces.Â
âIt didnât have to be like this?â the older man muttered, âbut it seems I have no choice.âÂ
Buried somewhere under the shock Harryâs brain screamed at him to grab his wand, to raise it up and shout every spell, hex, and curse he had ever heard about but he couldnât move. This man had been like a grandfather to him, or so he had thought.Â
Right until he had stumbled across a memory hidden away in the headmasters pensive. He hadnât meant to look, not really but something drew him in. The memory was an older one of Dumbledoreâs. The headmaster was sitting across from Molly Weasley talking at length about a marriage contract between Harry and Ginny. Molly was giving demands about what Ginny would have control over and how much she would inherit upon Harryâs death. He had been horrified and ripped himself out of the memory.Â
Only seconds later Dumbledore had walked in, Harry hadnât had time to close the door to where the pensive was hidden or to gather his wits and control his face upon seeing the headmaster. It had been enough for Dumbledore to know that Harry knew and the man had drawn his wand.
âObliviate!â The headmaster shouted. Pain surged through his head, he screamed, he knew he did even if he couldnât hear it over the pounding in his ears. Then he was falling, he didnât have time to throw his arms out to catch himself, even if he didnât everything was blurry and he wouldnât have had the strength to hold his weight. And then everything went black.Â
âHarry?âÂ
He groaned and then winced. His head hurt. He reached up to rub his temple not that it seemed to relieve any of the pain.Â
âHarry? My boy are you alright?âÂ
âWhat happened?â He asked, his head was a mess. It was like his thoughts were cloudy and when he tried to remember what happened, everything was just fuzzy.Â
âYou fainted.â The headmaster said, sticking his hand out to help Harry up. He fainted? why didnât that sound right? And where was Madam Pomfrey? Shouldnât she be here if he fainted? He shook his head, trying to clear the doubt. Why would the headmaster lie?Â
It took him two attempts to find his feet and when he did he grabbed for his wand. Which made him feel silly. Again he shook his head, though he didnât put it back in his pocket.Â
When he looked at the headmaster, he noticed the man watching him carefully. His blue eyes on Harryâs wand.
âAre you alright, Harry?â Dumbledore asked and Harry nodded. His head felt like it had been kicked in but other than that he felt okay.Â
âThen perhaps you should put that away?â The headmaster smiled when he said it but something about the tight smile and pointed look was off. The hairs on the back of Harryâs neck stood on end.
âWhat am I doing in your office Professor?â Harry asked, the wand still held tight in his hand. Dumbledore frowned and Harry felt sweat start to build on the base of his neck. Why couldnât he shake the unsafe feeling?Â
âI asked you here to talk about youâre classes this year, you donât remember?â Harry shook his head no and winced at the pain that vibrated through his skull.Â
âYou wanted to drop divination, I believe?â The headmaster asked. Harry thought about it. He had been thinking about dropping that class this year. It was pointless and he was sick of listening to crap predictions about his death.Â
âYeah?â He said, still not really sure. He moved to sit in one of the large chairs before him. His legs shook and he ended up leaning against the back, not quite able to make it all the way. He tried not to notice the way the headmaster tensed when he moved, or the fact that Dumbledore's wand was in his hand resting in the old manâs lap.Â
âWell do you know what you wished to take instead, my boy?â Dumbledore asked. And Harry was stuck with the oddity of it all. The way the headmaster was sitting on the edge of his desk, the way they both held their wands, and the cautious look the man kept giving him. Not to mention the nagging voice in the back of his mind that kept reminding him he would have gone to Professor Mcgonagall if he wanted to change up is classes.Â
âRunes.â Harry blurted out. It wasnât a class he had any real interest in but it was the first thing that came to his mind. Right now he didnât care about what class he would be stuck in, he wanted out of the headmasters office.Â
I see.â The headmaster said tilting his head to the side. âThat is a complicated class Harry, are you sure?âÂ
Frustration filled him and Harry pushed away from the chair, âYe--â His head exploded and he grabbed it crying out.Â
He fell to his knees all the while clutching his head.Â
âHarry?â He heard the headmaster say through the ringing in his ears. An image of said headmaster pointing his wand at him crept through his mind, followed by the man shouting a spell at him. Harry gasped and fell forwards, hands going to the floor to keep him from falling face first into the carpet.Â
Fuck, he cursed inward, remembering what had happened. He moved his right hand trying to subtly feel for his wand on the floor. He had dropped it, because of the pain a second ago and he needed it. Only he couldnât find it.Â
âHarry, what happened?â He heard Dumbledore get off his desk and tried not to tense.Â
âMyâŠhead?â he stuttered out. âI think I need to see Madam Pomfrey.âÂ
âStand up, Harry.â Gone was the caring gentle tone. Harry cringed, and looked up at the man he once trusted. Once again he found the headmasterâs wand pointed at his face though this time the man holding it seemed just as shocked as Harry.Â
âHow?â The headmaster muttered, as he looked Harry over. Then something sparked in his eye and the old man sneered, âTom.âÂ
âTom?â Harry asked confused, his right hand still searching the damned floor for his wand.Â
âDoesnât matter.â Dumbledore told him, âNow stand up!â The order was harsh, something akin to Harryâs uncleâs tone when he was pissed and wanted to take his anger out on Harry. Only this time Harry didnât think he would be able to run away until the anger faded away.Â
Carefully he stood up. He tried not to show the old man how scared he was, after all he had stood against Voldemort, he could stand against Dumbledore.Â
âWhat are you going to do?â He asked, âYou canât obliviate me, clearly.â He was a little surprised by his own mockery.
The Headmasterâs gaze narrowed, âno, it seems I can not.â With a swish of his wand Harry found himself tossed into the chair he had been leaning against before, ropes appearing to hold him down.Â
âYou bas--â He tried to shout but another wave of Dumbledore's wand and he couldnât make a sound.Â
The man moved behind his desk, Harry watched as he searched the shelves for something.Â
âYou must know Harry, this is not what I planned. You seemed to have a habit, my boy, for ruining my best laid plans.â The man shot Harry a cold look before he turned away to look at a shelf full of small glass bottles.Â
Potion bottles, Harryâs mind supplied and his heart started to race. The headmaster was going to kill him. He could feel it in his bones. It didnât matter what the wizarding world would think, Harry had a feeling the âleader of the lightâ would twist it around to make him look like he died a hero, then use it for his own means. It made him sick to his stomach, how had he not seen it before, Dumbledore was using him. And now that Harry knew, he couldnât be allowed to leave.Â
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He wanted to beg and plead, but even if he wasnât silenced he wouldnât have. He had never begged for his life from the Dark Lord he wouldnât do it now.Â
Suddenly there was a knock on the door and hope filled Harry, before Dumbledore could call them to enter or tell them to get lost the door opened and Herminore stuck her head in. Her eyes widened when she saw Harry and he tried to call out to her for help.Â
âProfessor?â She asked, entering the manâs office. The door closing behind her.Â
The headmaster turned to look at her, he gave her a grim smile, âA small hitch in my plans, my dear, nothing that canât be handled.â Harryâs blood ran cold as his best friend just nodded her head in acceptance.
âWell, his disappearance from the common room wasnât missed, Sir, thatâs why I am here. Some of the others are starting to ask where he is.â Harry cursed and shouted, though it was all muted because of the headmasterâs spell.Â
âTell them he is in detention. I believe he has been serving a number of them with Professor Umbridge.âÂ
Hermione nodded, âIâm sure Ron can come up with a good enough lie to convince the other.â She said and turned around and headed for the door. âGoodnight, headmaster.â She said and then she was gone.Â
Harry stared at her completely lost. How could she betray him? She was supposed to be his friend. He could feel tears falling down his cheeks. First the headmaster and now Hermione, possibly Ron as well. Was it all a lie? Were all his friends lying and betraying him? And why? That was the biggest question rattling around in his brain, why?Â
âAh, here it is.â The headmaster said suddenly breaking Harry out of his heartbroken thoughts.Â
He watched as the man crossed the room and only stopping before Harry, a small purple bottle* in his hands.Â
âDrink this!â The man demanded and Harry couldnât help but raise his eyebrows because seriously? No way in hell was he going to just drink something the headmaster wanted him too. What the hell was the man thinking?
âYou know, Harry, there is a very efficient spell, that medwiches use to feed potions to unconscious or uncooperative patients.â The headmaster waved his wand over the bottle muttering something before pointing his wand at Harryâs stomach and then Harry could feel it, the sudden weight of something filling his stomach. He tried to struggle against the ropes holding him but it did no good.Â
âNow.â The headmaster leaned down and grinned into Harryâs face. âMutatio Interiorem Bestia.â
About: Given the choice between Dhavra, Captain of the guard, and Ribrel, Overseer of the caverns, the audience had voted for Avonis to speak with his son Dhavra. No answers come, but more questions rise.
Word Count: 2,245
=================================
Two days have passed since the murder of Mistress Kyllia. The caverns had grown silent as the usual chatter fell away to mourning and fright. The chamber where Kyllia's body had been suspended was thoroughly investigated, and the body had been removed but otherwise the scene had been left where it was for the investigation. The parameters had been taped off as to dissuade anyone from coming closer, though not that many would want to. The sight of Kyllia's flayed body was a gruesome memory for most, an image they would be more than happy in forgetting. Yet, it stayed on everyone's minds as the they resumed their work.
The night crawled slowly for Avonis. He wanted to be anywhere but here in this chamber waiting for the Trial goers to finish. There's been an increase of guards here, too; they were never fun to talk to, but lately there has been nothing to say. The guards' eyes gleamed with focus, but despite their playing brave Avonis could smell their fear-scent rolling off of them. They had been no closer in finding the culprit, though this was something the Overseer refused to let the caverns workers know. Having to maintain peace within the caverns is a fickle thing; these people lived here, breathed here, worked here, would spend their entire lives here. Anything to disrupt the normal routine and system was dangerous. This was an area where life began for many Trolls; to have it tainted by mysterious murders just wouldn't do. The Empire may not care if Trolls die in the caverns; the Empire only cares about weeding out the weak to make room for the strong. But people in the Oterland Caverns cared enough; this was their livelihood, their job. If they didn't do it right they'd be culled, creating a damned if they do damned if they don't paradox.
Avonis tried not to think about all the disappearances he could have readily prevented before. He knew Dhavra's habits. Every grub that disappeared, or every Auxiliatrix, Avonis had kept his mouth shut. He couldn't betray him, he loved him too much, but this? This most recent death puts everyone in danger. But if Avonis admitted the truth, it would not only mean death for Dhavra but death for himself, too.
He needed to talk to him.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and the caverns grew still with an eerie silence. Though they could not see the sky, ancient dials whispered the moons orbits and instructed the Jadebloods when it was time to rise and time to rest. There were no lingerers now; the murder was a fresh memory that shook many to the core and scared them off from mingling in the corridors. It was one thing to kill, but quite another to make death a work of art; it was not the Jadeblood way, they were not clowns at a circus or artists carving a subject from stone. No, they were caretakers, nurturers, and what they witnessed had went against everything they were told to be.
Though when you have lived long enough to see countless generations come and go, and remained privy to the slaughterhouse, these things do become numbing. Avonis slipped out of his dorm quietly, though not secretly. He was aware of the guards' suspicious stares burning holes into his body. This was fine, and he much welcomed the eye contact; he had everything to hide and nothing at all.
âHello,â he said as he approached one of the guards. The guard stared at him expectantly, as if Avonis would make a move so suddenly. Avonis flashed a smile, hopeful to ease the tension, âCould you possibly escort me to Captain Risott?â
âYou have business with him?â
âWhy, yes, actually. He had claimed to want to speak to me.â The guard gave a displeased grunt. Avonis sighed, âI raised him. I am his ward.â
The guard looked to another on his left, the two exchanging glances before the latter nodding subtly. âAlright. Come with me.â
Avonis was thankful for the silence on the walk to the captain's quarters. Words were hard to come by in times like these, and Avonis was sure that when they had passed the crime scene both of them would be stunned into silence anyway.
Dhavra had been in the middle of a conversation with another guard. Upon seeing Avonis, Dhavra's expression softened, and the cold tone he was using for his peer had warmed. He dismissed both guards in the chamber and wrapped an arm around Avonis. He gave a cocky grin, âAh, and here I thought you'd never show up.â
âI'm in no mood for quips,â Avonis waved him off and ducked away from his arm. âYou have explaining to do, Dhavra.â
âYes yes, very well,â the taller Jadeblood sighed and pulled Avonis to his desk. âI have patrols to make and protocols to run, but let's humor this.â
âHumoring? Is that what you call it?â Avonis took a seat on the opposite side of the table, never moving his sight from his son.
Dhavra spread his hands, âI didn't do it, Avonis.â There was conviction in his voice, an earnest tone; not too deep and gruff like when he lies. Avonis eyed him suspiciously, waiting for more. âIt is fair that you seek me out on assumption. We both know my past time isn't very... clean. But I would not kill the mistress.â
âBut grubs and Auxiliatrixes are fair game? That doesn't make a lick of sense.â
âAvonis, you know me. I don't perform with my meals. Whatever the hell that was back there belongs to some twisted freak.â
Avonis considered this for a moment, then with a defeated sigh leaned in and rested his arms on the captain's desk, âDo you have any leads on who did, then?â
âMhm, the biggest suspicion at large is the Fuchsia.â
âCaptain Mikari?â Avonis blinked. The Oterland Caverns had recently undergone an inspection, a semi-regular ordeal in which caverns undergo what is essentially a health and legal check-up to make sure the systems are upheld and in order. The inspector this time was accompanied by a personnel from the Fleet; Captain Kairos Mikari, who seemed just as enthused to be here as a cat in water. On one hand, it made sense; Kairos and the inspector were what are considered to be âOutsiders,â and Kairos' reaction to the body was... different. Unexpected. But just the same, what motive could Kairos have? Not only would it be legal for someone of their caste, but there would be nothing to gain from it.
But then again, what was there to gain from killing Kyllia to begin with for anyone? Avonis frowned. He knew the Troll in front of him had been wanting to move up even higher in the hierarchy for sweeps now.
âA convenient accusation,â Avonis said.
âBelieve me, don't believe me, I do not care,â Dhavra waved him off. âRegardless of the matter, there's no present evidence for anyone involved. Â Whoever did this is a fucking ghost. No prints, no witnesses. We're still in the middle of interviewing and going over alibis. All this hoofbeast shit frankly makes me want to hunt.â
Avonis pulled his brows together, âAnother murder in the midst of all of this? Are you insane?â
âIt can easily be chalked up as related to this case, if I play my cards right. Come on, aren't you feeling it too? We can hunt together, just like old times.â
Another invitation. Avonis had to admit the constant stress and tireless work forced him to use a lot more energy than usual, and his fangs as of late would ache with thirst. The elder Jadeblood shook his head, âHow many times must I refuse you before it gets through your head that we are not meant to do any of this? At least be smart about this, Dhavra.â He paused, and gave a sad, slow blink, âI raised you better than that.â
âYou raised me to be a killer,â Dhavra said, âAnd now you look at me with disappointment. Won't you make up your mind?â
âI raised you to be the best self you could be,â Avonis countered, but soon fell to sighs of defeat and slumped shoulders. âHave you seen Surlas since the incident?â
âNo, I have more important things to do than making sure his little feelings aren't hurt.â Avonis wouldn't have expected anything more; the two unrelated brothers often didn't see eye-to-eye.
Quite irritated, Avonis pardoned his leave and left the captain's office after exchanging a few more words about Kyllia's murder. The armory was semi-closed for investigation, being the source of the sword-wings of the angel. With permission from the captain, Avonis departed for it.
On his way there, he glimpsed a familiar Seadweller: the aforementioned Captain Mikari. Of course, Avonis wouldn't refer to their title to their face. It was all part of the little dance they played, and Avonis was sure that if there would ever be a time he would refer to Kairos as captain in front of them, that he would be a grand pain in the ass about it. The thought of teasing the aloof Troll brought a small smile to Avonis' face and a quick flutter to his chest. So much so, that he paused in the entry of a corridor and cast Kairos another glance. They seemed to be waiting outside of the Overseer's office; the Overseer and inspector were probably having a meeting inside. This brought an amused huff from the Jadeblood, and he rose his voice just enough for Kairos to hear: âwoof.â The smile turned into a content smirk as Kairos scowled at him, though the upward tilt at the corner of their mouth was not unnoticed. Content, Avonis carried on further down the corridor.
Unsurprisingly, the armory was crawling with guards. He could not enter the armory in full, but he could see just enough from where he stood. To his surprise, two other Trolls he dearly loved were here, too.
âSurlas? Mehrri?â
Mehrri, as beautiful as ever, waved quietly. It was clear that she had been crying; her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were splotched with green. The youngest son turned, round eyes turning rounder at Avonis' presence. âOh! Da! What are you doing here?â
âI could ask you both the same.â
âBeing nosy, as per always,â Surlas offered a nervous laugh. He had always been a timid sort, though often his curiosity outweighed his apprehension. Whatever topic was presented to him as a child Surlas would exhaust every resource to study it. He had spent hours in the archives pouring over records and various documents. He would have been happier as a Memorand like his father, though Avonis was sure to better Surlas on the path of an Auxiliator-- a job Surlas does remarkably well. Very quickly Surlas became one of the most respected Auxiliators of the cavern, sharing the same pedestal as Avonis once did. âMehrri wanted to see the armory.â
âIs that so?â
âI just want to know,â she barely got her voice out, âWho could do such a thing?â
âYou should leave that to the investigators, darling,â Avonis held out his arm and Mehrri flocked to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and sniveling. He embraced her in a warm hug.
âI can't,â she sobbed. âSomeone killed her. I have to do something. I'm so scared. They made her an angel.â Avonis nodded. Angels were agents of destruction, wraiths of anger that heralded the end times. With this in mind, Avonis froze, his eyes wide. Didn't this mean that Kyllia's death was a warning? That there would be more to come? He couldn't help but shiver; didn't Dhavra ask him to go hunting just moments ago?
âMerhii, Surlas, I need you to inform the Overseer of this.â
Mehrii blinked up at him, âWhat?â
Avonis held the girl close to him, comfortingly, âDear, I fear that Kyllia won't be the last.â
Surlas stepped up, âWhat do you mean?â
âKyllia was made to look like an angel, right?â He ignored the silent shaking of Mehrii's shoulders. âAngels serve the Goddess Spirit.â
The young woman sounded terrified, âHeralds...â
âSo there will be more?â Surlas himself looked frightened as he and Mehrii exchanged glances. Avonis could have sworn there was something else there, something next to the fear, but there could only be so many things paired with such misery.
âYou, guard,â Avonis gestured for one to approach. A burly man with uneven tusks. Avonis flashed him Dhavra's sigil: permission to do what he pleased here, within reason. It was meant to allow Avonis entry into the armory, but he felt as if the show of credential would allow the guards to take their claims more seriously. âPlease escort these two to the Oversee'rs office. We have information regarding the case.â The guard nodded curtly and began to lead the two younger Trolls away. Avonis watched them with a pained expression of worry.
When they left his sight, Avonis sighed and entered the armory. He showed the guards once more Dhavra's sigil, allowing him peace as he looked at the the empty racks on the walls where swords should have been. It was time to investigate.
Forging a Savior Chapter 1 Choice 1: Go to the lake with Finningan:
You made the short walk to the lake, sitting next to Finnnigan, enjoying the quiet away from the hustle and bustle of the castle.
"So," he threw a pebble, letting it skip across the lake, "Got plans for Saturday?" He smirked. Everyone knew your days were mostly laid out for you.
"Very funny," You shoved his shoulder and he shoved back, getting you off balance, but you righted yourself. You caught Finnigan staring into your eyes for longer than normal. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?"
Before you can answer, Finnigan kisses you. It seems out of nowhere, except he had flirted with you in the past, but he was always so joke-y, so laid back, you'd never taken it as serious feelings for you.
The kiss is passionate, warm and feeling, melting your insides into pure goo. You feel certain Kaelen never kissed you like this. Your breath is hitched. You don't return the kiss, but you don't fight it either. You're not sure what to do, but Finn stops.
"It was just a kiss. Doesn't mean anything," You scoff, "I love Kaelen. I...love Kaelen," You repeat to yourself, but you're only half sure you believe it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
End Choice 1.
Back to chapter 1:
So, trying to catch some sleep one morning after a long night, I made up this steam punk-ish universe fantasy with a dash of X-Men and rando
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âOkay,â you start, reaching out to take Loreleiâs hands in your own. âWhatâs the plan? How are we gonna do this?â Her long, slender fingers wrapped around yours, and you could see a slight smile on her lips. âAlright, listen up.â
As it turned out, it was rather simple. The plan was that youâd go to the HGC and scope out the place the coming night. Lori had composed a list of possible places the souls could be - all you had to do was check for them. Again, it was pretty simple.Â
Lorelei hesitated, looking at you. âWe could get Willie tonight. I still think it would be wise to wait. Colin knows youâre with us now, We might need a person on the inside, but I know how much Willie means to you.â
Her words meant so much, but⊠would Willie even want to come with you? You would have to try to talk to him again, and after last time⊠Last time it didnât end up so well. Heâll need time to get back to his normal self.Â
âI think waiting is a good idea.â You let out a deep sigh. âWe should focus on one task at a time,â
You were taken by surprise when Roxie spoke up from behind you. âYou should at least try to talk to him, Rookie.â
âWe have plenty of time for that.â You told her, sudden determination coursing through your veins. âFirst, Iâm going to get your soul back.â
~
When Roxie said she wanted to make an entrance, you didnât expect to poof into the middle of dinner rush. She was always one for theatrics. It was good to know she was the same Roxie even without her soul.Â
Colin looked even more insufferable. You wondered whether that was due to the soul stealing, or just him being himself. Either way, you hated him now more than ever.Â
Roxie was tired from that small trip here. She was still very much getting used to existing without a soul. So she sat down at an empty table. Lorelei gave her company, because the last thing they needed was Roxie giving away their cover.
You looked down at the list of places Lori had asked you to scope out. Where do you go first?
"are you okay?" You ask Roxie, biting your lip in concern. She looks to be in pain, and you immediately think to yourself what a stupid question that was. âDid you take him back?â
"I'm⊠not sure." She said, struggling to her feet. Her breathing was heavy.
âLet me help you,â You rush to her side grabbing one of her arms and pulling it over your shoulders. âWhat happened? What do you mean youâre not sure? Whereâs Colin?â
âIâm⊠not sure,â she replied again, but this time her tone was off. She wasnât telling the truth, you realized. You wonder why Roxie would keep something from you after all this time of getting close? You two are friends and you want to help in any way you could. The same way she and Lori helped you⊠Pay her back somehow.
âAre you sure?â You try again.
âI think I would know if Iâm sure or not,â Roxie said, forcing a laugh.Â
Roxie was clearly lying now more than ever. Maybe you should tell Lori, but there are things Lori still doesnât know about that may come to lightâŠÂ
Speaking of, you think to yourself, where is Colin if not back at the Hollywood Ghost Club?
âI just need to go to my room,â Roxie said, pulling you away from your train of thought.
âI can help-â
âNo,â she cut you off. âI can go on my own,â
You watch her hobble away, fighting against the urge to jog to her side and help her anyway. But a thought re-enters your mind; Colin.
âWhere are you, you weasel?â you hiss under your breath, and begin your search.Â
 you start looking around in Willie's stuff. His clothes seem newly crumpled, and there's no dust. His skateboard is leaned against the wall, with his helmet in front of it. The bed was not made. Typical Willie.
Out of habit, you began folding up the sheets. There were days you made Willie's bed (only when Colin announces Impromptu room checks).
You were putting his duvet at the foot of the bed when you heard a voice behind you.
"Y/N?" A familiar voice called out your name.
You spun around, heart almost beating out of your chest, to see Willie. He looked...fine.
You let out a deep breath and wrapped your arms around him. Relief flooded through your chest. "I'm so glad you're okay."
He seemed...a little confused. "I'm fineâŠ.enough. why wouldn't I be?"
You opened your mouth to say something, but hesitated. How do you tell him you had a dream about him being tortured? What if he thought you were crazy. "IâŠ" you started, but you couldn't find the words, so you just hugged him again.
When you both pulled away from the hug, Willie took in your appearance. "Where have you been?" He asked, suddenly sounding suspicious as he eyed your jumpsuit.
"It's..a long story.â You say, tugging on his arm. âI'll explain, I promise. I just...can't right now. I have to go back. Just...wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine." He said, taking back his arm , but his voice sounded icier than when he'd last said it.
You could sense he was less than thrilled with you. You always could. Because it was like being angry at yourself. He was an extension of you, after all.
"Since when do we keep secrets?" Willie asked, folding his arms. "I told you about Alex. I *lost* Alex. And my best friend wasn't here to help me mourn."
You bit your lip, looking at the floor. He had a point. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. But it wasn't my-- I didn't leave. I didn't want to leave you behind.."
"Didn't stop you from doing it." He said simply, and you couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth. Ever smiling Willie hadn't smiled once during this entire conversation. His posture spoke volumes. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.
You felt guilt clawing at you again. "Come with me." You told him, hoping he'd oblige and the two of you could leave this place behind for good.
"I'm fine right here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work." He walked out, leaving you there alone.
Head hung low, you poofed back to HQ, to find Roxie in the training room. She stood over someone with a bag on their head. "I think I got your friend." She grinned.
You looked at her incredulously. "I obviously followed you! Couldn't let you go off by yourself now, could I?"
She pulled the bag off of the man's head, revealing the one and onlyâŠ.
"COLIN?!" Youâre sure if you still had a beating heart it would have stopped right about now.
The younger Covington looked annoyed as he pulled his arm out of Roxie's. "Let go of me! My father will hear about this!"
He continued on in his angry rage until Roxie blew something that looked a lot like glitter into his eyes.
He fell to the ground with a soft thump, appearing to be sleeping like a baby.
Roxie looked up at you with a sheepish smile. "This isn't Willie? Oops."