#elias:dallon

it’s nick’s fault-these types of situations usually are. he’s walking down the corridor to the mess hall, lost in his phone, when his body slams into someone else’s. his beautiful, glossy, sleek, new phone slips between his fingers, drops to the floor, and shatters. what he has just witnessed is his child-his baby-fall to its death. nick stares, mouth hanging open in mortification. “my life,” he whispers, ignoring the way his voice cracks as he bends to pick up the phone. “just flashed before my eyes. no really-this screen is a mirror image of my heart right now.”

“First of all I’m not God, that’s just rude. Second of all…” He paused, and frowned. “Second of all…”

     [ ლ ]---"What do you mean it's not bleeding that bad?" Troian really needed to find her soccer chill. Dallon wasn't the first one in her roster of accidental injuries, and she was getting tired of having to have to bring everyone to the infirmary almost every after pratice. But no, that is what heroes do--help fallen comrades especially if they were the ones who have caused the injury. "My hankie's all red already!" Her brows furrowed in concern, her hands firm as she applied pressure on the wound on his knee with her handkerchief. 

     [ ლ ]—When Troian went rollerblading around the campus that night, the last thing she expected to see was a tall boy who was teetering around on his drunkenness. But a hero never shied away from the call of a distressed citizen, so the Baby Torch immediately had an arm around the stranger’s waist for support, her other hand leading his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to the place this one called home. “Lead the way, dear citizen!” She exclaimed, her voice too bright for this time of the night. “Or at least, point at it. I don’t think you could do any leading at your current state, Mister.”