#whiterxbbits

Look at it, in all its glory! Glass shards and gouged out wooden panels that weep and sigh like open wounds. Broken furniture, smashed and fragmented like old bones, like ceramic tiles against her heel. The other security—all her lackeys, all just puppets and little toy soldiers—toss personal effects into the hallway and they fall at her feet like flowers before a bride. How else could the royal procession go? Imagine her humming, eyes sly, baton held behind her back. Imagine her, long, easy strides down the hallway—everything torn out and upturned as if to say: no one’s home, nothing permanent.

(That’s right: no one belongs to themselves, only to me, to me.)

What is more beautiful than the Chaos of your own hand? The judge and the executioner. It is sweeter than pleas of mercy, better than the tears of enemies and lovers alike, all the same under the morning’s honeyed-sky.

This is the scene from which Nadia emerges into Theo’s rooms—electronic locks disabled—as if it were her own. The room, the boy, what was the difference to her? A door without a lock, a boy without a spine—the quivering lips and slick film of tears over those big dark eyes, a perfect complement to the ruins beyond. A broken, shivering boy in a sanctuary of a space, safe until now from the reach of an angry god.

Or perhaps a queen on her throne the way Nadia lounges in the one chair of his room, kicking her feet up onto his trunk, dirt scattering across its surface.

“Look at that, they didn’t even bother to check your room,” eyes cast over the scene, threadbare, tools laid out, small television shadow empty and dark, “Why? Because you’re a good boy?” The words are venom in her mouth, twirled around her tongue before spit out. “So, you wouldn’t go against me would you, Theo? You’d tell me if you knew anything?” Laughter erupts out of her, all teeth and tongue, as if he weren’t already dead within her jaws. Such words could’ve been sweet, yet they are edged, sharp enough to promise real pain, the prick of blood against skin. With this she snaps her long fingers, hand held out for the glass of water her mouth doesn’t request, letting her baton clatter to the ground.

Now watch: look how high the dog jumps.

LOCATION: Fun fair

STATUS: Open

Catalina had gone her entire life with her head down to avoid getting anyone angry. She didn’t like seeing gross displays of power, but she was ultimately too frightened to do anything about it. She did her civic duty, she voted for the representatives she believed in. She donated what little money she had left over after paying her bills and sustaining herself. But she did not anger anyone, not on purpose. That was why when she learned she could become invisible it seemed like a stupid joke from the universe. Don’t even be seen let alone heard. 

She also did not like being a cryptid. She had no connection to it. All she was was a taller version of herself with admittedly pretty cute pointy ears with the option to simply vanish. She didn’t grow up with the cryptid pride some of the others did. She wasn’t feral, she wasn’t mystical. She was just... herself. It felt wasted on her, she felt like there was nothing special about her to warrant this amazing ability.

So that was why she was working on a cure. It was only for her, but she was saddened to learn she wasn’t the only one who didn’t connect with who they were. Catalina felt a jealousy sometimes. She wished she was a beast, it could’ve been an excuse for whatever ill feelings she had in the past. Instead, she was just a girl. Or an elf, to be more specific. But the cure was a personal project for her, it was something she was halfway done with.

They destroyed one of her journals and laptop, though. Now, she had her work on a hard drive but it wasn’t updated. It wasn’t like she had nothing, but she had so much more before and it was gone. Anger flared through her veins as she held the broken motherboard in her hand, a deep frown on her face. This was her career. She studied and worked and the guards just carelessly broke her computer for what? To show her a lesson? What the fuck did she do other than what Metzger wanted?

“Fuck.” She swore, her eyebrows furrowed as she stepped back out into the fun fair. Her eyes landed on someone and despite her anger, she was concerned. “Are you alright?” She asked, voice soft. Who knew what could set anyone where on edge nowadays.