a jacob's ladder made of nightmares

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

She likes to believe that. It makes her feel like she’s good, like she’s worth something. Sometimes the doctors even pat him on the head and tell him so. But her mind tends to get fuzzy when the actual cutting starts, and he can never quite remember it afterward. Maybe he’s secretly terrible at pain, and he just doesn’t know it. She gives Rem their biggest, most wide-eyed smile. If that really is the case, she can’t let it show. He likes having a friend, he doesn’t want to lose her.

She gives a little tug, and rather than their body lurching or jerking like it would if the bones had muscle attached, the whole thing just sort of shifts, as if she were jostling a doll. It hardly looks comfortable.

The deeper Rem looks, the less sure she is that there’s much more organic material in this strange little body. There are irregularities in the shape of the mass surrounding the bones, but nothing resembling living organs. There are, however, little tributaries of flesh carefully lining the body, joining one cluster of electricity to another. Nerves. That, at least, is normal.

"Are you okay if we keep going?"

She’s not really sure what ‘working’ means. Or if Rem’s ability ever doesn’t work. But as far as he’s aware, nothing’s happening, nothing but a funny feeling in their gut.

She doesn't like hurting people.

They don’t want Rem to worry that they might be a squirmer. He’s better than that. He’s accepted by now that he is always going to hurt. It is the nature of herself, a subspecies unique to the doll and the doll alone. It is better not to mind. If it’s going to happen either way, might as well be cheery about it.

Where did that come from? And where is she?

They fall on their haunches beside it, concern flooding her glassy eyes. He’d poke it to make sure it’s still conscious if he wasn’t worried she might fall apart at the slightest provocation.

"I didn't mean to. You're not hurt, are you?"

“Are you okay?”

She shoves her knee back into place and mumbles, "I'm so sorry."

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

She likes to believe that. It makes her feel like she’s good, like she’s worth something. Sometimes the doctors even pat him on the head and tell him so. But her mind tends to get fuzzy when the actual cutting starts, and he can never quite remember it afterward. Maybe he’s secretly terrible at pain, and he just doesn’t know it. She gives Rem their biggest, most wide-eyed smile. If that really is the case, she can’t let it show. He likes having a friend, he doesn’t want to lose her.

She gives a little tug, and rather than their body lurching or jerking like it would if the bones had muscle attached, the whole thing just sort of shifts, as if she were jostling a doll. It hardly looks comfortable.

The deeper Rem looks, the less sure she is that there’s much more organic material in this strange little body. There are irregularities in the shape of the mass surrounding the bones, but nothing resembling living organs. There are, however, little tributaries of flesh carefully lining the body, joining one cluster of electricity to another. Nerves. That, at least, is normal.

"Are you okay if we keep going?"

She’s not really sure what ‘working’ means. Or if Rem’s ability ever doesn’t work. But as far as he’s aware, nothing’s happening, nothing but a funny feeling in their gut.

She doesn't like hurting people.

They don’t want Rem to worry that they might be a squirmer. He’s better than that. He’s accepted by now that he is always going to hurt. It is the nature of herself, a subspecies unique to the doll and the doll alone. It is better not to mind. If it’s going to happen either way, might as well be cheery about it.

Where did that come from? And where is she?

They fall on their haunches beside it, concern flooding her glassy eyes. He’d poke it to make sure it’s still conscious if he wasn’t worried she might fall apart at the slightest provocation.

"I didn't mean to. You're not hurt, are you?"

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

She likes to believe that. It makes her feel like she’s good, like she’s worth something. Sometimes the doctors even pat him on the head and tell him so. But her mind tends to get fuzzy when the actual cutting starts, and he can never quite remember it afterward. Maybe he’s secretly terrible at pain, and he just doesn’t know it. She gives Rem their biggest, most wide-eyed smile. If that really is the case, she can’t let it show. He likes having a friend, he doesn’t want to lose her.

She gives a little tug, and rather than their body lurching or jerking like it would if the bones had muscle attached, the whole thing just sort of shifts, as if she were jostling a doll. It hardly looks comfortable.

The deeper Rem looks, the less sure she is that there’s much more organic material in this strange little body. There are irregularities in the shape of the mass surrounding the bones, but nothing resembling living organs. There are, however, little tributaries of flesh carefully lining the body, joining one cluster of electricity to another. Nerves. That, at least, is normal.

"Are you okay if we keep going?"

She’s not really sure what ‘working’ means. Or if Rem’s ability ever doesn’t work. But as far as he’s aware, nothing’s happening, nothing but a funny feeling in their gut.

She doesn't like hurting people.

They don’t want Rem to worry that they might be a squirmer. He’s better than that. He’s accepted by now that he is always going to hurt. It is the nature of herself, a subspecies unique to the doll and the doll alone. It is better not to mind. If it’s going to happen either way, might as well be cheery about it.

Where did that come from? And where is she?

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

She likes to believe that. It makes her feel like she’s good, like she’s worth something. Sometimes the doctors even pat him on the head and tell him so. But her mind tends to get fuzzy when the actual cutting starts, and he can never quite remember it afterward. Maybe he’s secretly terrible at pain, and he just doesn’t know it. She gives Rem their biggest, most wide-eyed smile. If that really is the case, she can’t let it show. He likes having a friend, he doesn’t want to lose her.

She gives a little tug, and rather than their body lurching or jerking like it would if the bones had muscle attached, the whole thing just sort of shifts, as if she were jostling a doll. It hardly looks comfortable.

The deeper Rem looks, the less sure she is that there’s much more organic material in this strange little body. There are irregularities in the shape of the mass surrounding the bones, but nothing resembling living organs. There are, however, little tributaries of flesh carefully lining the body, joining one cluster of electricity to another. Nerves. That, at least, is normal.

"Are you okay if we keep going?"

She’s not really sure what ‘working’ means. Or if Rem’s ability ever doesn’t work. But as far as he’s aware, nothing’s happening, nothing but a funny feeling in their gut.

She doesn't like hurting people.

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

She likes to believe that. It makes her feel like she’s good, like she’s worth something. Sometimes the doctors even pat him on the head and tell him so. But her mind tends to get fuzzy when the actual cutting starts, and he can never quite remember it afterward. Maybe he’s secretly terrible at pain, and he just doesn’t know it. She gives Rem their biggest, most wide-eyed smile. If that really is the case, she can’t let it show. He likes having a friend, he doesn’t want to lose her.

She gives a little tug, and rather than their body lurching or jerking like it would if the bones had muscle attached, the whole thing just sort of shifts, as if she were jostling a doll. It hardly looks comfortable.

The deeper Rem looks, the less sure she is that there’s much more organic material in this strange little body. There are irregularities in the shape of the mass surrounding the bones, but nothing resembling living organs. There are, however, little tributaries of flesh carefully lining the body, joining one cluster of electricity to another. Nerves. That, at least, is normal.

"Are you okay if we keep going?"

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

She likes to believe that. It makes her feel like she’s good, like she’s worth something. Sometimes the doctors even pat him on the head and tell him so. But her mind tends to get fuzzy when the actual cutting starts, and he can never quite remember it afterward. Maybe he’s secretly terrible at pain, and he just doesn’t know it. She gives Rem their biggest, most wide-eyed smile. If that really is the case, she can’t let it show. He likes having a friend, he doesn’t want to lose her.

She gives a little tug, and rather than their body lurching or jerking like it would if the bones had muscle attached, the whole thing just sort of shifts, as if she were jostling a doll. It hardly looks comfortable.

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

“When you use your power, you can use it to change me instead of you. That way you don’t gotta worry about it hurting.”

It always hurts. Erik told her living was just a series of painful experiences. That wasn't one of the good days. Sometimes he's more optimistic than that. But only sometimes.

Edward tips his head back and lets out a little giggle, one thing he does know is that he is very drunk and very high. His wings sprawl out around him as he laughs to himself, staring up at the ceiling. A sound catches his attention and Edward lifts his head, swearing he can hear someone calling his name from somewhere in the room... He glances around for the person.

She definitely does. But they don't want the fun to end yet.

... There is always a lot of us. I just wish people knew a lot of us change afterwards

Is it always so hard?

But even small steps are big ones

I think you're good. No matter what other people make of you.

And oh uh...thank you?.. I didn't know others knew of me..

Did you leave? Really leave? On purpose?

I'm sorry to hear that dear..but if you need someone or anything. I can always help

I know it hurts. A lot. In a way that's not always easy to fix. But you're more than the hurting now, and I think that matters. Somehow.

And likewise my dear. You didn't deserve anything that happened to yous...

Thank you. Really. Very much.

Sometimes people confuse me.

Oh I get that. People and their emotions, along with their intent is always confusing...

He's not trouble. I know he isn't. I don't think he'll mind you visiting me. And if he does, I can handle him myself dear

What's a son?

What's he like? Your son?

... He's a lot like his dad. But he is a sweetheart. He's 18 now...

Anyway, I think Erik's good. Grouchy, but good.

Either way, he won't mind me seeing you, will he?

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

Blipping is the only ability he has that can induce pain, and he’s been discouraged from using it most of his life. The doctors were never particularly interested in their toy being mobile. They settled for observing the less quantifiable, less objective mutation to mark change after experiments. There was no harm they could cause with it, and they never seemed quite able to make the mark on their neck go away. That’s all that mattered.

Sometimes being ugly is safest.

... There is always a lot of us. I just wish people knew a lot of us change afterwards

Is it always so hard?

But even small steps are big ones

I think you're good. No matter what other people make of you.

And oh uh...thank you?.. I didn't know others knew of me..

Did you leave? Really leave? On purpose?

I'm sorry to hear that dear..but if you need someone or anything. I can always help

I know it hurts. A lot. In a way that's not always easy to fix. But you're more than the hurting now, and I think that matters. Somehow.

And likewise my dear. You didn't deserve anything that happened to yous...

Thank you. Really. Very much.

Sometimes people confuse me.

Oh I get that. People and their emotions, along with their intent is always confusing...

He's not trouble. I know he isn't. I don't think he'll mind you visiting me. And if he does, I can handle him myself dear

What's a son?

What's he like? Your son?

... He's a lot like his dad. But he is a sweetheart. He's 18 now...

Anyway, I think Erik's good. Grouchy, but good.

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They don’t mind the staring. They’re used to being stared at. They could stare all day. She used to like seeing how long she could go without blinking. After enough practice, it was a long time.

Sometimes her powers do, and it's a bit difficult to be proud of that.

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

The optimism returns slowly to her voice, and then all at once, like she’s hauling it in with rope and has to overcome inertia. They half-start towards the door, and then back where they came from, and at last face the opposite wall, waiting for it to make things clear for him. He’s not sure where they’re meant to practice. Usually, when it’s time, somebody tells him to sit, or stand, and then she proceeds according to their instructions. But Rem doesn’t give very many instructions at all. What an odd authority figure.

"You told me you could do other things than the blipping. What - what do you do?"

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

They shift uneasily from one foot to another, eyes darting from the door to their companion and back again. It makes them feel…bad when things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Everything has a place. Everything stays the same. If it didn’t, there would be no way for the world to go round. If they can’t expect a doctor to show up on time, they can’t trust the water too, either, and that’s not a very good fear to have. No, she prefers when things are consistent.

He would like that. He talks all the time about how her mutation is a gift, not a curse. Some days it's easier to believe that than others. When he's around, it's always easy, but when her legs start to hurt and the walls echo with words unspoken, sometimes that's more of a trick.

They nod rather than offering a hand. They’ve learned never to try and touch a superior without clear invitation.

Mostly, Erik and his friends seem to argue. She's bad at arguing.

Their attention snaps to its face, though his eyes still avoid hers, always staring at a place a centimeter or two off. His fingers dance by his sides as though animated by the same electricity he spoke of, tapping against their leg, scratching at a strange tattoo on her neck, or tugging at what look like dangling threads hanging off of various ragged parts of his body. She’s never been with a friend unsupervised before. Whenever Miss Nikola came inside their room, he knew the doctors were looking at him through cameras, or the window that pretended was a mirror. What a treat this will be.

She supposes saving people must be hard work.

He’s never been the most observant of their toys. The room she grew up in was so small and barren, even a tiny bit of visual stimulus can feel overwhelming sometimes. They’re okay with that. They’d look at so much that they were shaking and nonverbal, if they could. There’s so little color in her life that she’s okay with drowning in the stuff if it means she can enjoy it for a while. That’s been a perk of her new life; there’s color everywhere out here. Less so in Rem’s room, though.

The halls seem far too quiet. They've never been good with quiet.

That'd be a fun little stroke of cosmic irony. The only one who ever looks for her when she's lost, and now she's gone and lost him. Silly little broken thing.

That being said, were my fellow x-men roleplayers at?