#thevilejester

Pre-star guardian, Cait(cus fuzzy cuffs over fisting gauntlet)

“Just a little bit,” the seller had said. “Don’t go overboard.”

The vial was only about three inches long. Even packed full of the stuff, she doubted it was truly worth the exorbitant price tag.

She was forever the skeptic. She couldn’t count the number of times in her lifetime that something had been made to make a human ‘high enough for their faces to melt off’, but had had only left her a fourth of a buzz. It took countless drinks to get her drunk, boxes of cigarettes to feel staved off, hours of sex to feel anything.

Suffice to say, she didn’t have high hopes for this; but she was nothing if not spontaneous and very, very experimental.

She needed something to get the edge off. Something to take that edge and round it a little, make it a little more livable.

She dug the sharp point of her claw into the little cork and pulled it out. Off the beat, it smelled like nothing. She sniffed deeper and it had a chemical scent…hidden by the smell of artificial strawberry. The man on the street had said just a dot on the tip of the finger rubbed into her clavicle would do the work. The skeptic in her dug half of the vial out onto her fingernail and slathered it across the entirety of her chest.

At first, she felt nothing. Just very glittery and mildly irritated that she’d been ripped off. She tried to rise to her feet to go hunt down the seller and peel his flesh from his bones like one peels an orange. 

She found her legs were not in working order. Neither was the rest of her. It was then, that it hit her like a truck. Every inch of her body pricked into goosebumps and she moaned headily at the feeling. The air in her lungs felt thinner. She could taste the fake strawberry on the air. Bleary eyes looked down, saw the glitter sparkling like stars on her night-blue skin. It was a galaxy.

Her eyes filled with colors then. Pinks and lavenders. The feeling of sweetness she missed. The touch of a well-oiled and manicured beard on her shoulder. a Laugh. Hands around her waist. The air was both heavy and thick, but light at the same time. It was intense, and it was thrilling her.

The air turned burgundy and gold. The hands’s ghostly memory slid down. The turned to teeth nipping at her thighs. Hot breath between her legs. The blinked slowly. Her eyes opened slower still.

It was red now. A fury overtook her. Her limbs still did not move, but she felt her powers swirling just beneath her skin, aching to shred everything apart with spikes, including herself. Rage like she’d never felt. She blinked again, this time hard.

And then the world was quiet. Blue. The hands were gone, so was her rage. Now everything was just empty. Lonely. Each emotion had lasted a few eternity-long minutes. But this one seemed to last an hour. It dug into her deep, cutting into her worse than any dagger. Her limbs still would not move. Now she felt she didn’t want to.

Her chest heaved, and she realized then she’d been crying. Her face was wet, but she could not wipe it away. Her magenta hair was dark where the tears had stained it. Her chest shuddered and she let out a sob. The world started to fade pink again, and her heart pounded, willing to embrace a ghostly hand upon her cheek…

Well, they never met him. They both disappeared when Xayah was 15 years old and she never managed to find them.

However she wonders the same thing from time to time too. What would they think about her soul mate? Would they approve him?

Her father was a diplomat so she can imagine he would probably expect her to be with a man like him, that avoided conflicts. At first he would be suspicious of him, like very father should be, but she could imagine him warming up to her lover.