Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => Advanced Training Complex => Topic started by: Marakai2.0 on October 06, 2017, 10:44:07 am
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The night before, Razican had been surprised to receive an official message from the Advanced Training Complex, stating that he of all people was going to be a mentor to a Stage 4 Candidate.
And interestingly enough, she was a sonokinetic, like him. He'd gotten the message while he was at the bar, half drunk out of his mind, and had needed to re-read it several times just to make sure he wasn't imagining things.
Heather Bannister, Stage 4 Pilot Candidate, Sonokinetic. Seeing that while sober was exciting.
So, the following morning, after the days exercises and drills were finished, he'd hopped on the rail.
Now he found himself at the ATC, staring at his com and the message he'd sent her a few hours before.
"Pilot Candidate Bannister. Your mentor is eager to meet you- please meet me at Rec Room 3b at 1530. Please don't be late.
-Pilot Echo Eleria."
Naturally, he was early, as he was to most things; it was 1515, at that point, as he looked up from his com at the folder in front of him, with all of his Candidate's relevant information.
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The day had started like every other for Heather Bannister, loud and exhausting. The only difference was she now had yellow stripes on her collar and if she was being perfectly honest, they clashed violently with her electric hair. Her morning though took a quick turn into unexplored territory as her ATC assigned com flashed and notified her of a new important message. Boredom bled into nervousness as she drank in the message.
Pilot Echo Eleria. Heather had just been assigned her mentor and not only that but he wanted to meet her in person today. And with just one message her world was thrown off-kilter. Socially awkward as ever, her attempts to chat with her fellow Candidates resulted in utter disaster. She had no way to communicate her anxiety and they had no way to see past her irritable facade, placing all parties a an impasse.
The minutes were unkind to her, going slower than a bugged out com during testing season. When neither socializing nor working out did anything to burn time and steam, Heather resorted to curling up in her room with her trusty trigonometry textbook and her big pair of headphones. At least they had never failed her.
Time rolled by much faster as morning became afternoon. A distracted glance at the time though revealed a painful sight: 15:27. Heather was about to be late on making a good first impression. The best she could hope for now is a wheezy one. Headphones dangling around her neck and her book discard on the bed, the Candidate bolted out the door and tore down the hall.
She just had to pass the time reading that stupid book. Her mentor was going to kill her and they had not even had a formal introduction yet. Heather came sliding into the designated rec room to find a very pale man already waiting for her.
'15:34. Shit!' she swore mentally as she straightened to full attention and approached at a more respectable pace. "Pilot Echo Eleria," Heather saluted while all but holding her breath. "Candidate Bannister. You requested to meet with me?"
-
Razican Eleria whiled the time away, idly tapping his fingers on the tabletop in front of him. A glance at his com showed him the time - 1529. He sighed, as his gaze rose to the door, at the other side of the room across from him.
He'd been "listening" intently for the past several minutes, sensing the sort of sound waves created by leisurely paced feet as the candidates outside would pass by, but not once did he hear anything with purpose - she was obviously running late, or possibly forgot.
And heaven forbid if she ignored his message - he'd report that to whomever was responsible for her if that were the case.
After 1530 passed, he began ticking off the seconds with a snapping of his fingers, the sound amplified further under his own power. In front of him, both the file folder as well of his com would vibrate from the thrumming bass he was producing. He'd give her until either the folder or his com made it to the edge of the table, before he left.
She ended up being extremely lucky that the table he was sitting at was especially broad - his com was only a few inches away from taking a tumble when the door slid open at last.
He glanced at her, his face impassive. He could hear her breaths, loud and heavy, before she spoke and then apparently refused respiration. Even her heartbeat, a fast and heavy thrumming, was sensed - she was clearly stressed, at least a little. He decided right then and there he was going to have at least a little fun with this.
He waited until the door slid shut before he stood up, his sapphire eyes narrowing, his face wearing a mask of feigned fury. As he stood, he took note of her height - naturally, she was taller than him. Everyone was taller than him.
"You're late," he hissed. "You're a Pilot Candidate. This isn't you being tardy at school." As he spoke, he allowed his voice to amplify just slightly, each word punctuated by a small wave of bass - behind him, his chair rattled on the floor with every syllable.
"Your com has an alarm. Use it." He huffed, and began to walk toward her, stopping only a couple armlengths away, staring up at her.
"I expect punctuality for our meetings. Is that understood?" His voice still carried that thrum of bass, his eyes still hard as he regarded her.
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'What you think this is the first time I've ever been yelled at?' Heather mused to herself without allowing a hint of her thoughts show on her face. 'Why I'm quaking in my little Gracie boots!'
She felt the bass of his power vibrating right into her very core. It set her teeth on edge. Without thinking her own power reached out to try and dampen the sound that was so irritating to her. For two and a half blessed seconds Heather felt a slight relief from his frequency. Then, like a rubber band snapping back at her she felt it return and stronger to catch up to the level it was before her attempt at lessening and slowing it.
"Yes, sir!" she replied through gritted, grinding teeth, while awaiting further instruction.
-
Very, very plainly, he felt her influence over his amplified power, the sound waves diminishing and suppressed for even that short amount of time. Upon noticing this, he sharply arched a brow.
Razican Eleria was...impressed.
When he felt her influence wane, he let his own efforts drop. For a moment, he continued to simply look at her, the mask of anger still fairly well in place.
And then he dropped it, seeing the tension in her face and the clenching of her jaw. He grinned widly, and crossed his arms.
"No dice, huh? I won't lie - I'm impressed. Most candidates, I would think, wouldn't take being reprimanded so well. Buuuuut..."
He winked at her, and turned away to walk back around to his seat, talking as he moved. "In the future, please try to be on time. Not just for me, but for everything. Gotta be professional and all, right?"
He took his seat, and looked at the file folder, and then her. "This folder has everything I need to know about you, and whatever problems your instructors say you may have."
He grabbed the aforementioned folder, slid his arm over, and casually dropped it, uncaring, onto the floor.
"I haven't read it, and I don't care to read it. What I want you to do, is sit down, tell me about yourself, and tell me what your concerns are, and what problems you believe you have. Because I know exactly what you're going through. Sonokinetics do have a rather...common trend of being TRIM'd. I'm here to prevent that."
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"But, it's hardly my first reprimanding, sir," she replied with a quirk of her pierced brow. She licked her upper lip as she unglued her jaw from itself but otherwise remained put. He had not invited her to join him and despite his smiles, Heather knew better than to push her luck all the way to the bank. "But, I understand."
The second brow raised to meet the first though at the sight of her file splattering onto the floor so nonchalantly. She stood there evaluating him for a few heartbeats before crossing over to sit across from him and even going so far as to slouch back into her chair some.
"Heather Bannister, 17 years old, and Sonokinetic. Excelled in Stage Two despite a lower caste upbringing. Scraped by in Stage Three. Does well in group-settings but her lip gets her in trouble and so has faced several cases of disciplinary action but nothing serious enough to get kicked out. That's what it says.
"But, you know what I'm going through? No," Heather shook her head sneering slightly. "They compare me to you. But, I'm not you. They want me to be a weapon able to blow shit up like you and I'll I've got in me is a useless firecracker!"
She paused, sucking her teeth and squaring her jaw in frustration. "I'm not you, sir. I...It's hard to explain what I can do. I create pockets that instead of shredding an area to pieces, protect it, usually only where I'm standing though." Heather's sails deflated as she shared a part of herself with him. "I silence things. I don't have the strength to maintain things long enough. Outbursts of rage can force it but not at command. I'm a loose cannon. But, I've got this far and I'm not quittin' now. So if you're not going to help me then just don't get in my way. Deal?"
-
Razican listened to her intently while she spoke, trying to keep his face completely impassive despite her tone with him. She said that she wasn't like him, but the truth of the matter was that their only differences, thus far, were the directions their individual powers seemed to point in.
Arms crossed over his chest, he tilted his chair back on two legs, continuing to listen to her for the entire duration. The way she spoke unsettled him - despite saying she wasn't going to give up, she voiced all of the obstacles before her.
And they were all familiar to him.
When she finished, he leaned forward in his seat once again, and reached out to pick up his com. He unlocked the screen, and navigated to his own personal public file from his time in the ATC.
He turned the device around, slid it toward her, and began to recite everything on that screen word for word.
"Razican Eleria, Stage 4 Pilot Candidate. Candidate continues to display an aggressive lack of control. As of this day, he has been relocated to his seventh room within the ATC, due to extreme damage within all previous dorms.
"Candidate displays powerful sonic bursts, tied primarily to accidental outbursts of anger, though occasionally also displayed for seemingly no reason whatsoever.
"I will make note, however, on his progress throughout his career here at the Advanced Training Process. Despite heavy hospitalization just prior to his candidacy, he has advanced through all stages with almost no issues. Candidate claims - and this has been confirmed - that he has had no former education since he was five years of age, yet with very little help displayed a stubborn willingness to learn.
"All other instructors claim that he needs to be TRIM'd posthaste. This instructor disagrees."
He sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes for several seconds, taking a deep breath before opening them again to look at her.
"I know what you're going through. I've been through it. I have nightmares about it. I won't stand in your way. I want you to learn. And I want to teach you."
-
She listened and for the first time in all her life, Heather felt like she was heard. She was wrong about him. He did seem to understand her. He had been her. Well at least she had not blown up any dorm rooms recently. None of this she could admit to him of course but, in so quick a time Razican Eleria had just gained her complete respect. He saw past her sharp tongue and heard the heart within that raged in fear of the unknown future.
Heather crossed her arms over her chest and met her new mentor's gaze head on. "I hate loud noises," she blurted out before shaking her head, wide-eyed at her own random declaration. "So with all the cards on the table now, when do we begin?"
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Loud noises, huh...? Hmm...
He sat and thought for a moment, hand brought up to his chin. He'd noticed the headphones hanging around her neck when she'd entered, though only now did he really take a good look at them. Noise cancelling, and they seemed name brand. His gaze lowered to the audio cable, dangling from the bottom, and...
Nothing. There was nothing on the end of the cable.
Suddenly, he was struck with an idea.
"Well. We start right now, naturally!" He grinned, and reached into his hoodie pocket for his mp3 player - he never left without it, obviously - and the audio cable for his com.
These he plugged in, and scrolled through his colossal playlist, and selected a song at random. Through his com, the mp3 player began playing at maximum volume.
It was one of his favorites, he noticed, smiling when his girlfriend's singing voice issued from the speaker.
"I know it isn't particularly loud...but this is what we're going to start with. You don't like loud noises, so....do something about it. Ditch the 'phones, and silence the music. The entire song. If it gets to easy, I'll turn up the volume. My way."
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Heather growled softly and rolled her eyes as that person's voice began to cycle through her mentor's com. Of course it was going to be Jexica. Every teenage Candidate's sweetheart they loved to croon to and how Heather hated her music. Her headphones were ripped off her neck and placed on the table beside her though her hand never let go of them.
Instead she focused her attention on the blasted player in front of her. Heather inhaled deeply before letting it all out slowly. The seconds ticked by and yet the music kept on playing. It grated on her like metal against asphalt, building up a ringing pressure in her head that threatened to explode until suddenly, blessed silence soothed her.
Her head fell forward as she sighed and smirked softly. "Does it count if I can't hear it anymore?"
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Razican's gaze remained fixed at a point in the table in front of him, his vision blurring as he tuned out the sense of sight. He himself could not hear the music, as his senses of hearing, touch, taste, and scent were also tuned out and put on the back burner.
Instead, he used that sixth sense of his, feeling the pulsing and vibrations of sound, the frantic shaking and scattering of molecules in the air. He was analyzing their paths, their echoes, and her influence over them, watching without interfering.
He could tell, plainly, that she wasn't successful in doing what he had asked. He was 'watching' the individual soundwaves that moved toward her, watching them, either in part or in whole, draw around her and cease to move, as if frozen in place.
They didn't simply dissipate, as kinetic energy generally would. They simply...stopped.
After a moment, he glanced up at her, his face incredulous. She had already progressed in a way that suggested the path of a Combat Operative, like him.
She would just need to learn how to control it.
"Well....no. But what you're doing is fascinating, nonetheless. You're holding several decibels of sound in a 'charge.' You're going to want to release it, if you can. I'll be ready for it."
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Lifting her head revealed that he was speaking to her, not that she could hear of course. She was mediocre at reading lips, granted most of what she had tried to read in the past was people screaming her name, not exactly a hard thing to decipher. But, she had a good guess as to what he wanted her to do, stop.
Heather bit her lip in concentration as she tried to firmly grasp the sound barrier she had created while also sending him a telepathic message. He would not be able to hear her as her barrier went both ways but it did vibrate, threatening to give way as her attention wavered.
"You're going to want to cover your ears and move the player. I can't promise its safety," she warned.
Heather was able to wait long enough for him to follow through before dropping her control all at once. She clapped her hands over her ears as a loud, high-pitched, and sharp whine pierced the air like a cross between an electric guitar and a cat screeching upon having its tail trod on. The sound rattled the windows and door sharply while setting a lower hum through the floor and furniture that caused them to vibrate though nowhere near as strongly as Razican had upon her late entrance to the room. Blessedly it ended quickly yet Heather hated it as much now as she did the first time it had ever happened. It always shook her down to her very core being and made her teeth ache like they were being yanked from her head one by one with a jackhammer.
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Sending the looming threat to his mp3 player, he quickly unplugged it from his com and shoved both in his pockets. Only a moment later, felt her collected charge of sound waves begin to unravel.
The resulting cacophonous sound, that ear-piercing wail, was blocked from his hearing as reactively he pushed the sound waves to either side, the area directly around him a bubble of relative calm. He smirked, seeing her face as she covered her own ears to block out the sound.
He responded to her in mind, that smirk still firmly upon his lips. "Next time, try and pace it out slowly. Each wave of sound is like its own band of energy, and letting out only a small amount at a time would be much...quieter."
When he spoke again, it was with his own voice. "Now, I want you to try and do that again, but see if you can't create, say, a longer, quieter sound rather than a loud burst."
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"The other things I'm still holding onto are worse than that," she commented quietly with lowered eyes. Heather was ashamed to admit she still had not managed to find the time to let go of her buildup from her last group training exercise a few days earlier. "The longer it sits, the worse it gets. I can't peel off the layers and separate the waves. It's impossible!"
Her knee bounced with agitation at his request. Heather felt the silence starting to press down on the whole room as she fought to calm herself. "Perhaps," she began more quietly, " this isn't the best place to be playing with what I can do. Unless of course you're prepared and capable of grounding the whole room."
It was a barb not one intended to hold venom. The Candidate had never had to ask before in her life and she still did not know how to ask for it now. Razican had her respect but Heather was still learning to trust. As he had previously pointed out, Sonokinetics rarely if ever made it as Pilots. They were volatile and dangerous if unable to control themselves. She did not look forward to the opportunity to be handed over to TRIM any time soon.
"I usually sneak out to the training fields after dark every couple of weeks and 'take a swim' in the dive pool. You're not going to report me are you?"
-
When she said that controlling the release of her stored energy was impossible, he snorted softly. Nothing was impossible - it only took practice. Lots and lots of practice, but still a possibility.
His gaze flicked downward, noting her knee as it began to bounce - simultaneously, he began to feel an odd sort of pressure throughout the room. When she spoke, to him her words seemed even softer than intended, as if the air itself was proving an unfit medium to carry her voice.
"Before you think anything is impossible..." he began, his eyes glancing up to her face again, "...aways remember that the only thing stopping you, is you. You're a psychic, a sonokinetic, and you've got the potential to be a powerful one. Don't sell yourself short - if you give up on yourself, the ATC will give up on you, too."
"And I can and will ground the entire room, if I have to. I can deflect, or even silence, about four-hundred decibels of sound across most frequencies. That's the sound equivalent of two jet engines less than five feet away, plus a crowded stadium full of cheering people. All you've got right now is noise - and that's fine. We'll work on force later."
At her next statement, he arched a snow-white brow, and chuckled. "Report you? No. What you do on your off time is no concern to me, unless you get caught. I would advise against such a thing, because being stuck in a Sense Dep tank really fucking sucks, and you're bound to get caught. No....you need to work on grasping large amounts of sonic energy, and releasing it slowly. Like...the difference between dumping a cup of water, or slowly pouring it out."
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"Whatever you say, sir." Heather sighed and turned her head first to one shoulder then the other, enjoying the satisfying pop as her neck realigned. "Here goes nothing," she murmured. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast as her eyes slightly crossed and she drew within her personal shields to access the knotted ball of layers upon layers of mixed energies.
Heather latched onto one of the thicker strands and gave it a mighty yank, sheering it forcefully from the rest. She could feel the vibration literally pulsing within her left hand, a deep, low bass that fought to escape her grasp. She did her best to try to and let it go gently as he had requested but it was as gentle as dropping a grand piano off a cliff. If anything it was more akin to a sledgehammer to the head. The sound was much like a band of tubas blaring their displeasure. However, while loud and bone-throbbing, the vibration was all the same wavelength.
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Man, I really wish she would quit calling me sir...
Going off of what she said, he was only a few years older than her. Maybe the white hair threw her off. Besides, even if that wasn't the case, he didn't hold very hard to formalities.
When she released that bundle of soundwaves, he cringed - throwing a hand forward, he quickly willed the kinetic energy to coalesce into a single point, a tiny vibrating blur hovering before his palm.
"Okay, okay. Maybe there's some things we need to work on before we try that. All right...question for you. Can you sense soundwaves? In a way other than hearing them?"
Perhaps starting at the beginning would be the best bet, learning to walk before learning to run, so to speak.
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Heather smirked knowingly. If she could have gotten away with an 'I told you so,' she would have. Instead she crossed her arms and mused on his question. "You mean the ripples?" She motioned her hand in a spiral that got larger as it moved away from her. "Like throwing a stone in the pond, yeah I see them. But, I feel them more than anything. Is that what you're talking about?"
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Raz nodded, smiling. "Yes, that's right. Good. Those ripples? The sound waves, they're yours to do with as you please. They can be a tool, they can be a weapon...hell, they can be a party trick, if that's what you want."
He turned his hand, his palm facing upward. The tiny spherical blur of sonic energy followed his direction, simply holding in place, hovering a few inches above his palm.
"Those ripples are yours to grab hold of, gather, twist, distort, release...."
He closed his palm, though kept his grip loose. "Now, concentrate on what I have in my hand. Listen to it, feel it. And pay close attention, okay?"
He concentrated on the bead of energy he held in his grasp, reaching with mental tendrils of influence. Gently, slowly, he coaxed the tangled sound waves apart, releasing them slowly.
The room filled with naught more than a long, drawn out low hum, the sound going on for perhaps half a minute. When it ended, he glanced back up at her with a small smile.
"You see?"
-
She watched intently, her focus entirely on him and what he was doing. When he directed her to try again, Heather was quick and eager to obey. Once more she delved within herself and tugged at another chord, though this one was gathered with more care. It wrapped around and around her hand until she was able to loosely gather it all and hold it there.
Heather opened her eyes to look down and see the energy literally coiled about her hand. Both hands were then used to carefully manipulate it into a ball that was then curled between her palms. The vibrations threatened to escape and she could feel sweat gathered upon her brow as she gritted her teeth in concentration. One by one her fingers opened and the sound was released like sand down an hourglass, one grain at a time.
With the task completed, the Candidate slumped forward in her chair. Her heart was racing with the effort of mastering such control. It was no time for celebration though. Heather was exhausted. The layers of absorbed energy pulsed inside her demanding release now that they had more room to flex and warble about. If she did not tread very carefully from this point then Rec Room 3b was about to face some serious remodeling care of Candidate Heather Bannister.
-
He sat, watching intently, feeling the gentle ebbing of sonic energy as it was slowly released.
They'd been working for, what, ten minutes? And she'd already done what he'd managed in a couple weeks. He was impressed - If she continued at this rate, she could be at his level before she even graduated.
This pleased him greatly, a broad smile on his face, even as she slumped forward in her chair, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. "It gets easier, I promise."
He noticed, though, the tangled remains of sonic energy still surrounding her and within her pulsing erratically, demanding to be let free. Slightly concerned, he stood up, moving behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Just relax. You command it, it doesn't command you. If its too much to hold, just release it, and I'll catch everything that I can. And...then we'll work on not absorbing every sound that bumps into you, eh?"
-
Heather tensed at his touch, her shoulder muscles becoming rock-like beneath his hand. Inside she reached for another strand and tried to repeat her earlier feat. Her breathing became more labored under the strain of it but, little by little she was able to spool it it out. That control quickly receded though as the energy came pooling out of her too fast for her to contain it. The more she struggled to contain it, the harder it tore through her.
Instinctively, the young woman through up a form of shield about both of them a second before she completely lost the battle of control. A cacophony of horrible sounds crashed together making her ears screamed. If it had not been for her shield she was sure her bones would have been severely bruised and aching for days.
That had been the result of her first attempt at unraveling the energy sink she had created. Heather had been too embarrassed at the time to tell anyone and so had suffered the excruciating full-body experience locked up in her room and even skipping classes until standing was a possibility once again. It was not something she wished upon anyone, not even her worst enemy.
With everything expelled, Heather found herself completely doubled over and coughing for air. Her shield snapped down as she clutched the table and dry heaved. It had felt like her organs had been squeezed flat between two pieces of glass until there was nothing left of them. If this is what having control felt like then Heather was not an advocate for it in the least.
-
All that Raz knew at that point in time was, it could have been so much worse. The maelstrom of raw sound she released had very nearly been beyond his own ability to redirect, and he had to wonder just how long she'd been collecting all this noise, and how long it'd just been swirling around and within her. The individual waves of sound were such a tangled mess, he was unable to identify what the sounds originally were.
He knew this, of course, because even as she released it all, he was attempting to gather as much of it as he could. These were no longer the clean, slightly curved waves of sound he was familiar with. If she hadn't shielded them, and if he hadn't redirected some of that energy with his own influence, the consequences could have been much more severe.
This was chaos.
When it was over, and she was slumped over the table and retching, he looked down at her with a worried, sympathetic gaze. He'd been in her shoes, on a couple occasions, especially during his candidacy. Overuse of this power, whether purposely or by accident, could ravage the physical makeup of a person. He was pleased, however, that her dry heaving was, in fact, dry - a number of his accidents ended up with him throwing up blood being bed ridden for a number of days.
In order to safely disperse the sonic energy he'd pulled from her, he'd need to let it out over a course of time...and he thought he knew exactly how to do that.
"....take what time you need, Heather. This is the worst part. When you're feeling up to it, I want to try something else, okay?"
-
She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut against the discomfort. "No, it's not," she grumbled hoarsely. "Getting TRIM'd is the worst part." Slowly, she sat back up again and tilted her head back to peek over to him. "You really are all they blow you up to be, aren't you? Fuck me," Heather groaned, "I'm going to have to stop talking shit about you now that I know you can do that, aren't I?"
Weakly she gathered her sweaty strands of hair up off her neck and tied them into a haphazard ponytail. Her body still felt like it was strung out after an all holds barred match with a fleet of dragons. Wiping her sweaty palms on her trousers she finally took a shaky breath and nodded her head to her mentor. "What did you have in mind, bossman?"
-
"Getting TRIM'd should always be the very least of your concerns," he said, meeting her gaze, his own eyes growing hard as they narrowed. "Don't think about failure; if you're thinking about it, you're starting to plan for it. And worrying about it, and really anything at all, isn't going to help you learn control."
He sighed a bit, and averted his gaze. "Listen. You know full well by now how important control is. As a sonokinetic, the first person in danger of getting hurt by your power is yourself. I'm sure they've been teaching you methods to keep a clear head, and I want you to practice those more. And, uh...look. I don't know, or even really care about what they say about me. I'm just a Pilot, and your mentor. Just worry about that, 'kay?"
When he glanced toward her again, it was with a small smile. "So. What I want to work on is something relatively simple. Instead of drawing in the sound around you as a means of silencing it, I want you to try and push the soundwaves away. Feel the ripples, before you can hear them, and direct them away. If they don't reach your ears, you won't hear them...and you won't draw them to you. This way, you won't be straining yourself, holding a charge all the time."
At this, he stepped around the table again, and sat in front of her. "I'll let this charge out just a little at a time. Let me know when you're ready. Oh, and drop the 'Sir', and the 'Bossman.' Just call me Raz."
-
Heather stared back skeptically. She felt drained dry and yet he wanted to push forwards as if nothing had just happened. It was no surprise that most Sonokinetics got TRIM'd, if this was how hard and fast they were pushed to excel.
"Simple he says," she griped, dragging her legs up onto the seat so she could sit up straight and cross-legged. "Whatever you say, Chief. Whatever you say." Heather smirked, knowing she was pushing buttons and not giving a damn whatsoever. She was exhausted beyond belief and if she had to suffer then so would he.
She rolled her neck again and sighed. "Hit it, Raz! Do your worst," she added in a low mumble. So much for their first meeting just being a little talk.
-
"Yes, simple. You're a sonokinetic. Simply moving soundwaves is step one." He arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his fingers on his forearm. "And 'Chief' counts, too. Unless you want me to call you my 'apprentice' or something."
He rolled his eyes, a small grin cracking his face. He tipped his chair backward on two legs again, one foot resting on the edge of the table. "Look. This is eezy-peezy. Just push, don't even grab. All right, here goes."
He raised his hand, the sonic charge he carried again coalescing into a bead over his hand. A low, almost harmonious sound began to fill the room, not entirely unpleasant to hear.
-
"No I'm a sound sink but thanks for playing! And man you've got to work on your threats because apprentice sounds fucking badass!"
Despite her exhaustion, Heather smirked knowingly. If anyone knew how to push buttons it was her. She was the queen of piss the world off, just ask Candidate favourite Matt. She was distracted from her line of thought though as Razican let loose that pure, sweet note. Heather felt it brush against her a gentle butterfly's wing against her cheek. She hated it.
The sound was sucked into her and immediately ceased. With a sigh, she gritted her teeth and tried to volley it back to him. Seventeen years of absorbing sound had not made it easy for her to just switch overnight to bouncing back. The note zinged back, louder and faster.
"It's so much easier to just keep it all in," she whined, slumping forward some. "Why can't I just keep doing that?"
-
Hearing her telepathic message, he smirked. He decided to reply audibly, "I'm sure I could always decide on another, cornier nickname for you. I also have access to the candidate chat, so everyone else could know it, too."
When the soundwave initially got pulled around and into her, he frowned - that would have to be something that they would work on.
But when it again emerged, amplified and at a higher pitch, he grinned. "Okay, good. But the reason you don't want to pull everything in, is that eventually when you go to release everything...well, to be blunt, it can seriously injure, or even kill you. Low-frequency sound, that is, the sound we can hear normally, can be devastating. But you know that."
-
"And that's why I use the water. It naturally dampens the soundwaves along with slowing them therefore providing a natural safety buffer for myself and others. If I can hold onto it long enough what's the big issue with sucking it all in? Buffering is far more energy taxing to uphold in the long run because it means a constant shield to ping against."
Heather shrugged and rolled her eyes. "This is a waste of time when I already know what I'm doing and how to effectively manage it. I thought your job was to teach me something new and useful. Oh and by the way, I highly doubt you could come up with a name bad enough to embarrass me. The other Candidates already think me a bitch. Not much worse you could do. Is that all now? Are we done here?"
-
"The issue with using water to disperse sound is the echo. I doubt there's any around anymore, but long ago, whales would communicate underwater using sound. Their calls would travel for miles through the water - it's less effective at dispersing sounds than you would think. So...what do you think would happen if you released a potentially fatal amount of sonic energy, attempting to relieve the charge, only to have the echo wreak havoc on your insides?"
Raz crossed his arms over his chest, levelling a cool stare at her, his face grim. "Look. Go to the library sometime soon, plug your com into a terminal, and download all the digital books on sonic energy research. There's alot you apparently don't know, and I'm guessing you're smart enough to pick at least some of the information up. Read through them, and practice what we've gone over today."
He arched a brow, and tilted his head to one side. "Before we quit for the day, is there anything you have questions about?"
-
"Whales?" She repeated skeptically with a raised brow. "Well I'd blow up and no one else would. I'm sure it'd make plenty people happy here so what's the big deal? Oy! Some?! That's a bit rude don't you think?" Heather huffed and rolled her eyes at being given such a potentially boring list of things to do. Mentally though she did find herself feeling a bit excited. Maybe there was something new to learn. At the very least she could read about whales. That was a topic she had not thus far explored into.
When he asked if she had any questions though, she stilled and eyed him intently. It was only now just starting to sink in that this was real. She was a Stage 4 now and she had a mentor who actually seemed to be serious about her. She was not just some problem of his to push along. He was truly invested in her. Heather found herself blurting that out without thought. "Why? You're actually serious about this. You want me to succeed. Why?"
-
"Chill out, Heather. I say some, because there's alot to read. Some of it is fact, some of it is theory, and some of it is bullshit movie stuff. You'll find out for yourself, trust me." He smirked, and leaned down to pick up and reorganize her files.
As he did, she answered his question, and his hand ceased all movement, last page in hand. For a moment, he stared at it, skimming through it.
Information about her childhood. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, before he replaced the page back in the file folder, and lifted it to set it on the tabletop.
"You know...for the longest time, the ATC was all I had. I had nothing even vaguely good to look back on. Barely any memory of my family, no friends that I could remember, nothing. All I could do was look forward, because behind was...darkness."
He stood, staring down at the folder on the table. "So I had only two things to look forward to. Either graduating, and becoming a Pilot, and being able to learn some things about myself...or, giving up, failing, and getting TRIM'd. I didn't want to be TRIM'd."
At this point, he began walking towards the door. He stopped just in front of it, before turning to look over his shoulder. "I see some of that in you. Like I said, I didn't want to be TRIM'd. Do you?"
-
She heard the pain in his voice. She could practically taste the darkness of whatever had made him the man he was today. It was not her business to know what, but Heather recognized it as familiar to her own pain. Yes it was true that she was a bit of a mouthy troublemaker but it was all a cover for the fear encased so tightly about her heart.
As he walked past her and turned the question on her, Heather's heart raced within her chest. Her eyes shuttered closed as she fought back memories and fears. Every candidate had the fear of TRIM hanging over their heads. Some of them did not have that noose tied so tightly about their throats already though. And Heather felt it every day since she first walked through those doors.
With her breath hitched in her throat and tears threatening to fall and make a fool of her, she hook her head and sent him her answer. "No. No, I do not, Raz." She glanced back over her shoulder at him and nodded her head once in solidarity and thanks.
-
He saw the wetness in her eyes, and knew that he had hit the mark, or at least fairly close to it. This admission to her, however vague as it was, was alot for him. He was glad, though, that it had the intended effect.
"Good. So...work on those things we talked about, and I'll see you next weekend. My contact information should have already been loaded into your com, so don't hesitate to call or send me a text if you've got any questions. Otherwise, I'll see you next weekend, probably Saturday. Keep out of trouble till then, yeah?" He smirked at her, turning away and throwing a hand up in a half-assed wave.
-
Heather nodded and waved him off, only letting out her pained breath once the door had closed behind him. It was a while before she felt composed enough to leave the room and even then she was a little shaky and very subdued.
That night Heather dove headlong into the requested studies. She stayed up into the wee hours of the morning reading everything and anything she could get her hands on. Some things she knew, some she understood, and still others sent her head spinning. Of course every paper she read had a million more references to read further.
In the end she ended up falling asleep on the floor surrounded by her own handwritten notes. The following days were all the same. Heather finally felt like she had a chance at achieving something. She finally had someone who really believed in her and she was not about to give that up even if it killed her. She was not going to be another someone's greatest disappointment and disgrace. Especially not when she already felt like one big shipwreck just seconds away from plummeting into the atmosphere.
Practicing what he had been working on with her proved to be a much harder task. Her first attempt came on Monday and she blew up the sink. Razican had received a frantic set of messages then from her, trying to explain she was still serious and it was not her being rebellious again as she was sure he was going to be contacted about her "poor" behavior again.
And so the two weeks passed until it was Friday again and Heather found herself early and waiting for her mentor to arrive at their designated spot. She was not about to be accused of being the late one this time. Especially not when there were things to learn.
Her thoughts though were not on her lessons and her practice. She was not even as excited as she had felt earlier int he week. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and hide away from the world. Heather wished she was six years old again, alone in her room with her stuffed spranger and fighting to drown out the sounds of her father drunkenly screaming at the television. She wished for times when things were simpler and she knew who and what she was, when she did not care what anyone had to say about her existence and she was independent and strong. How could her younger self be so much better off than she was now when she was on the road to having it all?
Heather could not help but curse herself for her stupidity, for letting herself be vulnerable and exposed to someone who did not deserve to see her weak soul bared before him. Sex was just sex so why was she falling apart at the seams so easily? Everyone did it, especially here where the stress and loneliness of the gilded cage weighed heavily upon their shoulders. But, for the life of her, Heather could not understand the tangled mess she had become. She wanted to rage and scream. She wanted to hide and weep. All of it made her feel like a child with no sense in the world and yet despite it all she had to pretend to be okay.
She worried about what her mentor would think of her if he knew how unstable she really was, if he would even notice how distracted she was from what really mattered. Perhaps he would take her sullen mood as just part of who she was, everyone else did. But, what she feared most of all is that he would see right through her. So there she sat curled up in a chair being torn apart by teenage angst as a heavy brooding silence weighed down upon the room like a dark rain cloud.
-
The week following the first meeting with his Candidate went - mostly - as usual. Save for the activities immediately after Raz met Heather, once he'd reached Jexica's building, it was business as usual.
Wake up. Run. Eat. Excercise. Drill. Sleep. Repeat, every day, unless a mission came up. Drills for that week had included a sunburn and stealth one day, and hunting for his fellow squad members the rest of the week. At times, it was fun, giving him a chance to think outside of the training he'd had for a good chunk of his life and apply critical thinking to something he'd never trained for.
Other times, it was just plain frustrating. But, each experience is its own reward, right?
But come the weekend, Razican again found himself in Haviah, dressed in his usual attire as he made his way through the ATC to meet with his Candidate once again.
He was surprised when the door slid open, and he saw her there already. Raz was used to being the early one to almost everything, and yet here she was, before him, and he was fifteen minutes early. It was a welcome change from her lateness the week before.
But he noticed as soon as he entered the room, that something was off. His footsteps made no sounds, he couldn't hear her heartbeat or her breathing, or even his own.
For a moment, he just let it be. She was a teenaged girl - all teenagers were expected to be thrown through all their emotional roller coasters, and even as a boy he had been no different. But, when he sat in front of her and set a bag on the table, he happened to glance up to see her face.
".....Okay, the sink wasn't that big of a deal. What's wrong, my young apprentice?" he joked, making some kind of attempt at lightening the apparent mood of the room. "I didn't get any notifications that you'd managed to turn a swimming pool into a crater, so I'm guessing you didn't blow something up. So what gives?"
-
Her eyes flicked up to his face heatedly. If looks could kill then Razican would have been the first to know it. Heather's were red and had dark circles beneath them from long nights of study and practice just to drown out memories of her one special night. She sighed deeply, reaching out a hand and closing it in a fist as she sucked in the field of muffled silence she had created.
"I didn't blow anything else," she confirmed, unwilling to look at him. Heather did not know whether to tell him the truth or not. She barely knew him. But, if she did not talk to him then who could she tell? Garza was busy with his new "Gracie," Matt was gone along with being part of the problem, and it was not like she had any other friends. She really was so terribly alone.
Heather's heart squeezed at the painful truth and she buried her face against her pulled up knees. In for a credit, in for a thousand: if he could not like what he heard then he could leave. Razican had earned her respect and maybe it was too soon but it was time that he started to earn her trust.
"It's personal," she finally whispered. "I did something I shouldn't have and now I...regret it. I could have ruined everything for him." Her voice cracked as she fought back tears of frustration. "And I'm such an idiot! I let my stupid fool heart get involved and I don't even have anyone to talk to about it and-," her voice hitched up an octave as she spoke faster and the tears broke loose on her. "I'm here blubbering like a baby and am just pathetic and now you're going to leave me like everyone else-" the rest of what she had to say was cut off and muffled by her uncontrollable sobs that were about more than just Matt.
It was everything that had happened to her and everything she had ever feared. For the first time in her life Heather was truly facing some of her buried emotions and as they came to life inside her mind she found herself completely falling apart and unable to stop herself from unraveling.
-
Raz levelled his gaze right back at her, not at all afraid of the tired glare she offered him. He'd stared death in the face far too many times for whatever kind of threat those eyes held for him, and he wasn't backing down now.
The look she gave him had him at first feeling like she was going to lash out at him about something, and he was prepared to let her rant and rave at him until she'd spent all she had, to let her calm down before they started working. The words she let out, though, surprised him.
"Hey, whoa, slow down a minute, Heather." He offered a small grin, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. "Look. I'm not going anywhere. I'm your mentor, and I intend to see you through to the end, even if it means a meeting or two is spent just dealing with problems." He grinned a bit, lifting one arm to rest his cheek on, leaning on one elbow.
"I'm here. And you've got my number. I'm here to help, however I can. You can talk to me, if you need to....and it sounds to me you got your heart mixed into something it can't get untangled from."
As she buried her face in her knees, Raz stood, leaving her gift abandoned on the table. He stepped around to her side, and gently set a hand on her shoulder.
"Look. You want someone to listen, I'm here. And I'll be up front about this: I won't judge. I've got my own slew of problems I gotta live with, and it might just be that I can relate a little. So, why not try and get this off your chest?"
-
"You say that now," she hissed though the venom in the statement was purely out of self-defense. Heather hated feeling this weak and vulnerable in front of anyone. It was the second time this week alone and she did not know what to do about it. It was too late to turn back now though. Poor woman was shaking like a leaf against a fierce wind.
With her face still buried in her knees she mumbled, "I had sex with Matt fucking Wright as a stupid birthday pity fuck. Seemed like such a good idea at the time too." Heather sniffled and shook her head. "So stupid! I just feel so raw now, so empty and exposed. I don't want to feel like this anymore!" she shouted, her hands balling into fists that banged against her thighs. "Why does it hurt so much? I don't even love him, hell I don't even like him and now it feels like he can see right through me, like he's seen my soul.
"How could I be so stupid?" she sobbed, her whole body feeling as if it was being completely drained of all that she was. A low hum began to fill the room again as her abilities reacted unconsciously in the face of her distress. "Bastard's become a Pilot his first day as a Stage 5 and I'm still stuck in this hell going insane. It wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was just sex for fuck's sake. Good sex even so why the fucking fuck am I falling apart like a fucking Gracie?" Heather hiccuped as she struggled to breathe through all of her shuddering sobs and the sudden pressure beginning to weigh down on her chest. Her heart started to race out of control and the silent pressure in the room began to grow to physically noticeable levels. "Why do I feel so weak?"
-
Matthew Wright. If memory served, that was his friend Havvy's candidate. He knew next to nothing about the kid, other than the fact that Havanah had been frustrated with his initial lack of progress, and had given him the proverbial kick in the ass to get moving. That, and his mother had recently died. Not much to go on.
But apparently knowing who the kid was didn't have much bearing on the situation, as Heather plainly stated she basically had no feelings for him whatsoever. If that was true, then there wasn't much else to go on, other than...
"....You have issues letting people in, don't you? You feel like...you took that wall down for a good time, and now you can't put it back up. "
He knew how she felt, remembering his first couple years in Candyland, freshly out of the hospital and having the social skills of a sponge. He'd alienated himself for quite some time, until...
Raz began to feel a heat rise in his eyes, and he shut that line of thought down rather quickly. Funny, how trying to help someone else only meant rending open old wounds.
He was still silent, even as he leaned down, making an effort to show that he knew, that he cared. Silently, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.
She was more like him than he'd first thought. She wasn't his apprentice.
She was his goddamn protege.
-
He was completely right. Razican had hit the nail most certainly on the head for Heather was afraid to let people in. All her life she had built walls both real and imagined about her person to protect herself from them, the others that were not her. In a single night though they had all come crashing down around her and she was defenceless to fix it. Honestly, it had nothing to do with Matthew and everything to do with her. She was broken and always had been. Heather had even gotten good at pretending and hiding it but now there was no more pretending. There was no hiding. Instead there was just so much feeling. Years and years of surprised emotions were just boiling to the surface and she was helpless to stop them, to contain them.
It was several moments into her mentor's embrace before the Candidate realised that she was being touched, being contained. Instinct took over in her distraught state as Heather slung an elbow up and back into the man and rolled herself away from him. She spun on her heel to face her preceived attacker with wide eyes and clenched fists. Only then, with her back pressed up against the wall did it all hit her. She had just assaulted her mentor, a Pilot, for trying to hug her. The details would not matter once those in charge knew of it. It would not matter that Razican had triggered memories that she had long since buried away, that even now she could not face.
Heather looked at him horrified and ashamed, her whole body shaking out of fear of her punishment. "I didn't mean to," she cried, all but awaiting the hammer to come down on her head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" She slid down the wall, trying to appear small and invisible as she continued to apologise.
-
Needless to say, he was quite a bit surprised, and in no small amount of pain, when that elbow of hers smashed into his nose. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his face just as she moved away from him, the surprise plainly written across his face.
For a moment, he just stood stock-still and stared at her, even as she began to gush her apologies, until the surprise began to fade. Then he grinned.
And then he began to laugh. "No, no, you're fine! Even better than fine! I'm impressed! A little slow on the uptake, but good instincts. Note to self, though: hugs aren't allowed." He tilted his head upward as something warm and wet began to dribble down his nose, and he brought a hand up to wipe at it.
"Fuck, I'm bleeding, though. Shit." He quickly stripped off his white hoodie, and tossed it on the table before it could get ruined. "Look, no hard feelings, but could you get me like...a tissue..napkin...so mething? If someone walks in here and sees blood all over the floor, they'll ask questions, and I'd rather you not get in trouble for something I caused." He glanced around a bit, looking for the camera that would have had to have been in here. And, luck apparently decided to work in his favor - it was directly overhead, pointing towards the door. There would be no way it would see him dripping blood unless he deliberately walked in front of it.
-
She had expected to be hit or even chastised at least. To be laughed at and told all was well was the last thing she had expected though. At his request Heather simply stared at him dumbly for a few moments. Her brain was just unable to comprehend that she was safe and unharmed. She was not caught off guard by one of her father's drunken outbursts. She was not cornered by her childhood bullies.
As it finally hit her though, Heather was quickly on her feet and padding across the room to where the box of tissues by the window was kept. She gripped the box with one hand at the very base before she extended her arm out toward Razican. Part of her still did not trust that as she got close enough that he would not suddenly latch onto her and cause her harm as retribution for her own violent actions. Through strands of amethyst hair, she watched him, ready to scuttle away again should he try to though.
-
With his head still tilted upward, he watched her retrieve the box of tissues, noting the subdued, cautious way she returned to him. He blinked, arching a brow, and took the box from her.
"Don't know why you look so scared..." he started, tearing a tissue in half and balling it up before inserting it into one nostril. "I'm not gonna bite. That was a really nice hit, though, uh...maybe next time, avoid the face, huh?"
He grinned as he stuffed up the other nostril, wincing slightly as his nose throbbed. It didn't feel broken or anything, it just hurt like hell.
"So...why the, um...why the freak out? I was just trying to make you feel better."
-
Heather retreated from him the moment he had the box. On a normal day she would have been snickering nightly at the image of her mentor jamming tissues up his nose. Instead though she was putting distance between them along with the table. His laughter therefore completely threw her off. "I just clocked you in the face and you're laughing?!" She hissed at him incredulously.
"Also I'm not sure how you trying to maul me constitutes of making me feel better!" Heather sneered at him defensively, yet her arms came around her torso in an unconscious self-hug. "What were you even tryna accomplish foo'?" Her accent began to change with her distress as she desperately grasped at straws to try and shift the attention away from herself.
-
"Well, yeah. I mean....no point in getting mad about something that was clearly my fault." He grinned only slightly, and set the box of tissues on the table, next to his wadded up hoodie. "Besides, its hardly the first time I've been hit in the face. My job involves getting occasionally getting *shot* at, I'm not gonna throw a fit over a little blood."
He smirked, following his comment, until he noted her body language, as well as the change in her speech patterns. After a moment, that smirk dropped, and he crossed his own arms over his chest.
"I wasn't going for anything other than a hug. Because, once again, I find myself reminded of me, from back then. I can sympathize, at least in part." Razican let out a sigh, before dropping his arms to the chair in front of him, leaning into it.
"Look. I'm sorry. At the very least, I should have warned you. It won't happen again." He exhaled silently, before sucking in a harsh breath.
"...maybe we should just drop this and get to work."
-
"A Candidate strikes her mentor and ya brush it off as nothin'? Ya want to hug me like I'm some pathetic lil child 'fraid of the dark? What could ya possibly have experienced that compares to the shit I done? I'm not weak like ya! Ya hear me? I'm not weak!" Heather howled at him, shaking slightly with her rage.
With the fear quickly leaving her, she was finding that false bravado returning full force to lock horns once more. She hated him for also seeing her weak. She hated him for trying to get close. But most of all she hates that stupid smirk that she never seemed able to wash away. Esther refused to be rushed aside so quickly. He wanted to move on and practice well screw that nonsense. She had had enough practice the past two weeks. What she wanted now was a fight.
-
"I'm not weak like ya! Ya hear me? I'm not weak!"
Within the confines of Rec Room 3b, those last words seemed to echo, on and on, playing themselves over and over within the small man's mind. Each and every repeat of those words cut deeper and hit harder, and with each beat of his heart his face twisted deeper and deeper into a sneer.
She wanted to know what he'd been through. She wanted to know what it was that could compare to her life, however shitty she thought it was.
Nobody knew what happened to him. There were no records of his past acceptable to the public, and what records there were were classified under such high clearance it would take a Pilot Royal to even know they existed.
Nobody knew. Nobody, except him.
By the time he finally stepped forward, he was wearing the same face that had terrified his old Squad Leader so much, that night after he'd nearly blown his drugged out ass through the wall. The same nightmarish face that he'd never shown anyone else. There were times that Raz wondered if he'd scared Sieg off with it, but he had no way of knowing.
He stalked toward her, purposely, his face seething. When he spoke, his voice was a roar, made even more so as every word echoed only within the room, the sound waves bounding back from the walls and circling around again. With each word, each syllable, the room shook and vibrated, fueled by his anger.
"What have I been through!? Fuck that, what have you been through that compares to the shit show that was my life!?"
He drew close to the table, neverminding the camera in the corner as he gripped it's edge, pushing it aside as if it were nothing as he continued on his way.
"You think you're so God Damned high and mighty because your little girl fucking fairy tale life didn't go the way you wanted it to!? You know jack shit. No - you know less than that."
At this point, he was very nearly in her face, his eyes as sharp as razors, his teeth grit and fit to break. His fists clenched so hard, his knuckles popped and cracked.
"You really wanna know what I've been through?"
He gestured behind him, to one of the chairs that had fallen to the floor.
"Then sit the fuck down."
-
Heather would have liked to say that she was unafraid of the small man before her. But that was so incredibly far from the truth it was practically its own alternate universe. She squared her shoulders and locked her jaw as his voice rattled her very bones. He had all but frozen her in place with his barely contained rage.
Pushing against his power proved futile. There was nothing she could do as all her attempts just snapped the echos back against her form harder and stronger. This was why you did not mess with a sono, why so many of them never made it out of Candyland. Their power was raw and unpredictable. If it was likewise unctrollsble then everyone suffered.
Her head pounded with all the noise and as he shoved the table aside she bared her teeth at him. With him toe to toe to her, she leaned back slightly. For such a small man he certainly was able to make her feel ant-sized mighty easily. Heather was but a child to him in that moment and she hates feeling like that. So many years of taking care of herself molded her into being independent and caustic. To now see and hear the potential of what she could do made her hate herself more. She really was going to need his help.
She did not understand yet the full implications of what she had gotten herself into yet either. However, Heather was not one to back down even if it meant she was going to lose, horribly. So when he said sit she did, but only after brushing past him on her way. The chair was kicked up and spun so that she was sitting on it backwards and facing him.
His words were still ringing in her ears, threatening to rip down doors she has sealed up long ago. With her heart racing, she mentally braced against them, praying those floodgates would remain closed a little longer. Heather waited quietly for him though as she, while dumb enough to goad him into this, was smart enough to bite her tongue when a man was showing the whites of his eyes on three sides. It had always meant anger or fear to her and if this was fear then her name was Shamu the Whale.
-
He could hear her heart racing, the pounding of it a drum beat sending quiet ripples that he could all too easily sense. He could hear her breathing, hard and heavy, and the look in her eyes betrayed her apprehension. The way she squared herself, baring her teeth at him, he could see she was willing to contest herself against him despite her fear.
Just this once, he intended to rip that away from her.
When she brushed past him, he simply remained standing, facing the wall for several moments until he heard the chair slide, and her sit. He closed his eyes, focusing on simply breathing trying to calm himself down. Gradually, he could feel the rage subside, feel his heart slow down as he unclenched his jaw and his hands. Only when he felt he could speak without tearing the walls down did he turn to face her.
Raz took her spot on the wall, leaning heavily against it, crossing his arms over his chest. As he looked at her, staring up at him from her chair, his glare didn't relent, sapphire eyes full of ice as he leveled that gaze at her.
It was several silent beats of simply staring at her, when he opened his mouth.
"My family," he began, steeling himself against the inevitable rush of memories, "had been military for...generations. Old Aedolian, upper caste, for as long as anyone could remember. My immediate family was all military. My mother, my father, four brothers and six sisters. There were thirteen of us...I was the youngest, by a wide margin.
"When I was...six...my family was called into service in the war. I was left behind, nothing more than a child, in the care of our my nanny." Something hard flashed in his eyes, and the last word he spoke with spit out with an undertone of hatred.
"...for about four months, it was fine. She did her job, helping with my schoolwork, keeping up the house, taking care of me. Then, well, shit decided to roll downhill.
"I'm not sure what warranted the change, but...I strongly suspect it was because my family....well...th ey weren't coming back. But....I'll get to that later. In any case, I had no warning, whatsoever, no sign of things coming that I can remember from back then. I remember a needle, while I was eating breakfast, and then not much else until I woke up. The bitch drugged me, and strapped me into a chair." At this, he held up both of his arms, indicating the stitching tattoos on his wrists, covering abrasion scars from being tied down for days at a time.
"Apparently Miss Marlene liked making a little money on the side, and I got the pleasure of being her little guinea pig for her projects. She used me....she was a cooker. Street drugs, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, if you wanted it, she'd make it.
"For five fucking years, I would go through this, taking her needles and her fucking pills, told all the time how proud mommy and daddy were going to be for helping her so much. I'd sit there for days at a time, in my own filth, being fed scraps and drugs, and she'd only take me out of the chair when I was in danger of overdosing."
Here, at this point, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, steadiying himself, and at this point just noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"She did this to me. Took away my skin, my eyes, my hair, bleached the color out with her fucking drugs. Turned me into this fucking...ghost. By the time she moved on to other things, and abandoned me in that fucking chair, it was too late to undo the damage that had been done. Police found me, five years later, and rushed me to the hospital, and they told me there. I sat in a goddamned hospital bed, tied down yet again, detoxing, getting some strength back from eating real food. After that, a year of physical therapy. And then, immediately after...drafted into Candyland."
-
She did not take her eyes off him even once as he shared his tale with her. Perhaps if Heather had come from a better caste rank like him she would have been more shaken and disturbed. It was not that she did not feel for him. Rather, it was that the Candidate had grown up hearing stories about people like him. It had been a favourite threat to scare children that if you were not careful you would be sold off to people like that and never be seen again. She just had never met anyone like that before.
"I was wrong."
It took a lot of guts to spew the hatred she had at her mentor. It took even more to admit she had fucked up big time. When she said it, she meant it too. Heather hoped he knew that, that he could see it in the way she kept her eyes on him and let him past her walls. Having heard his tale, she felt the need to share hers. She had no idea if he would listen, if he would even consider her worth his time anymore but she had to try.
"When I was a child they told us stories to scare us about people like you," she began quietly. "Behave or you'll be sold off and everyone will forget your name. One day we'll forget we even had a child. You'll be replaced and no one will care. That's what they told us. Didn't matter where you moved, the worst parts of the city always had the same threat.
"My life is no fucking fairytale though, at least not like the ones I've read." Her gaze lowered as she shifted in the chair slightly and allowed her chin to rest on her crossed arms on the chair's back. Inside she moved away from the door she was braced against and allowed the memories to flow through her. A soft hum filled the air as she spoke again.
"I don't remember much about the bitch that birthed me. We were low caste and lived in the seedier areas. She was an addict for anything that got her high, hard and fast. I was born the same way. From my first breath I craved it, I needed it. The bitch was more than happy to provide. Her little doll was funny while high and it kept it quiet. My first memories were of that fucking ceiling swimming like it was going to drop down on me like paint."
Heather licked her lips, finding them dry and trembling slightly. "And one day she was there, then the next gone. I don't know if she died or left or what. I never cared. Without her there were no drugs, just pain. My father didn't take too kindly to the screams. He beat me into silence. Apparently the screaming of a detoxer isn't all that pleasant. I lived even as I thought I would die.
"We moved constantly. He loved his drink and all our credits went to it. I learned to love the silence. Heh, maybe that's why I turned out to be a sono. If it was silent, he wasn't there to beat me and scream at me, to tell me how much like the bitch I was, how much I looked like her. I learned if you ran fast enough they couldn't hurt you, they couldn't touch you and scream at you and make you do things."
She swallowed, feeling bile in her throat. Heather shuddered for a moment and let her forehead rest against her arms for a few moments. Her breath was ragged as she fought down the images she so desperately did not want to see. "There is safety and peace in the silence. It's a blanket that I feel most comfortable clung to. You were right earlier, I don't let people in. I don't trust. I don't love. I don't get attached. It's safer."
Lifting her head to look at him again, she sighed tiredly. "In the space of two weeks I've let two of you in and...". Heather shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I was wrong about you and I hope...it's not too late to say that."
-
Her first words gave him a start, as he had taken a moment to stop and gather his thoughts, preparing to continue. It wasn't everything, what he'd told her. It was most of it, but not all.
Raz listened to her telling of her own life, and the hard face he wore slowly crumbled away, expression melding into a soft and compassionate one. Here they were, just a couple of broken kids. By what coincidence had he been assigned to her as a mentor? He couldn't know, yet all the same, he was glad.
When she finished speaking, Raz met her gaze solidly, and shook his head vehemently. "No....no, Heather, it's not too late. And....look, I'm sorry I yelled. If I'd have known, I wouldn't have...."
He sighed, cutting off his words to raise his hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? She seemed to enjoy the silence so much, and had this constant attitude, he should have known screaming at her was a bad idea.
When he lowered his arm, he looked at her with watery eyes, and began to step towards her again. He didn't even care if he got hit this time, he'd say he fell on the damn chair or something.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, again wrapping her in a hug, chair and all. "I'm sorry, Heather. For what it's worth. It's not too late."
-
Heather looked away from him as he mentioned screaming at her, her eyes wide as they fought back her own tears. She was just getting to composing herself when suddenly he was on his knees before her and wrapping his arms around her. It was rather uncomfortable yet unlike before she simply froze and let out an undignified squeak of surprise.
“You had no way of knowing,” she finally murmured softly, terrified that if she spoke any louder she would break him. “You’re the only one I’ve ever told. I deserved it. I was being a right bitch and I know it.”
She shuddered at the memories of all the bullies that had tormented her in her youth. Not even her friend, another social outcast like her, Garza knew the skeletons that still danced within the dark of her closet. “I’m sorry too.” Her voice cracked as the apology bled from her lips.
Without a thought, Heather brought her arms up suddenly to wrap back around him as well. Despite the burn of the chairback cutting into her ribs and the awkwardness of the position, she held onto him fiercely, unwilling or unable to let go. Her body shook with her silent tears as she buried her face against his neck. Through her tears, her scattered mind noticed how his neck tattoo made a complete circle to the back near where her cheek was resting. It was far from the only one he had too, if the blurred peek of his back revealing thick and heavy ink across his back was not just her imagination. She could not make it out though, nor did she truly have a mind to in the moment.
Instead she focused on the way she was crushing him close. Heather’s fingers had unbeknownst her in the moment begun to dig into Razican’s shoulders. She was finally letting him in. She was for better or for worse finally placing her trust in another creature and it terrified her. Swallowing thickly, the Candidate finally loosened her grip on him enough to not cause them any more bruises, though her arms still remained looped about him.
“No one’s ever hugged me before,” she whispered to him. “I’m sorry I hit you before.”
-
"You’re the only one I’ve ever told."
"You were right earlier, I don't let people in. I don't trust. I don't love. I don't get attached. It's safer."
"I was wrong."
Those three statements, they crushed him. Again, he was reminded just so much of himself, having said words not unlike those in his time, in a situation not unlike this one. Hell, even in this situation.
"...You're the only one I've ever told, too. My...I haven't even told my own girlfriend, yet." His voice was quiet and level, despite the stinging tears in his eyes. "And I completely understand, you know, the attitude. It's not...easy."
Even as she relented her grip slightly, he gave her a brief squeeze, his way of letting her know that he was there for her, a sympathetic ear, one that had shared in her pain even if only in part.
"No one's..ever hugged you before?" He blinked, and released her to lean back and look at her. "That's...well, that's just horrible. Hugs are awesome." He let out a watery sort of smile, and raised a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes before he stood.
"Well...I hope you trust me, now. Because..well, I'm trusting you, too. Like I said, I've never told......anyone."
-
She gasped slightly at the squeeze, feeling the warmth and strength of his touch but also a sense of security and safety. Heather had never felt anything like it before. Was this what trust was like? Was being weak when someone else was strong what it meant to let someone all the way past the walls? She was not sure she liked it or not, this feeling of trust and dependency on someone that was not herself. But, she accepted it.
When he pulled away, the young woman found her eyes rolling lightly as they darted away from his face. The heels of her hands scrubbed away the last vestiges of her drying tears. Her face felt raw and tight. She assumed it was probably splotchy and red from all of her crying. "Hugs kind of hurt," she replied with a weary smile even as she rubbed her aching ribs. The chair had been must unkind. She could only imagine how his nose was feeling.
Verbally answering his question was nearly impossible for her. Instead, Heather nodded, slow and sincere. "Can we just...talk?" She looked up at him through amethyst strands, still looking a bit like a kicked puppy expecting its next punishment. Steeling herself and inhaling shakily she ventured to press on. "I...could use some help with my um," she swallowed thickly, "earlier outburst."
-
Raz grinned, eyes a bit brighter when he saw her smile. It didn't matter if it was tired, or even forced - it was still a smile. Half of his were fake, anyway, just a mask to cover the rot his past had made. False smiles and fake laughs, forcing himself day by day to be happy even when he wasn't, driving an enthusiasm that only existed roughly half the time.
Thank goodness for the Valkyries, a little bit of stability (chaotic or otherwise) and a source of real happiness for him. And thank God for Jexica. Nothing made him happier than her. Though after speaking to Heather, he realized he had a story for her....
He came back to his senses just in time for her to mention the hug being painful, and he let out a light-hearted chuckle. "Well, I was trying to hug you through a chair, soooo....yeah, thats probably it. Hugs don't usually hurt. I promise, these last two attempts aren't very good examples." He gave her a crooked sort of grin, and moved to the other side of the table to sit across from her.
"Yeah...talking's fine. We'll go with that. And...what about your..." he wasn't sure if 'outburst' was the right word for it, but whatever, "outburst are you concerned about? I mean...if you've got a problem with something, we can hash it out."
-
Despite her even and deep breaths, Heather felt herself struggling to breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to relax again. "About Candid-Pilot Wright," she replied, with her eyes still closed and her head falling back tiredly. "I can't keep feeling like this. I can't afford to lose it like that again. I don't know what to do."
Her head rolled forward to face him again. "I feel so exposed. It's not even his fault," she admitted, being honest with herself and him. "I'm the fucked up one. 'Bout time I cracked, eh?" Heather snorted and shook her heard in frustration. "How do you do it? How do you let them in and not hurt?"
-
Raz sighed a bit, and shook his head. "Well....to be honest, I don't know. I mean..look at it this way. One day, you're going to be a pilot. Maybe even a CO, like me, and if that's the case, this is doubly true."
He leaned forward, resting on his elbows, levelling with her. "The other Candidates with you? They'll be Pilots, too," he said, not even mentioning the alternative, "And when you're a pilot, you have to trust at least some of them. They're your brothers and sisters in arms. You trust them, they trust you. Before you know it, you're not letting them in, so to speak."
He blinked a bit, and tilted his head. "They're just....in, and you don't know how they got there. And you'll find that it doesn't matter what you do, or don't tell them. The same will go with everyone else, too."
-
Her head thunked forward onto the back of the chair. It was such a parent answer to her situation too. She wanted to groan but also did not want to get into any more trouble for the day. "So this is where it starts? You break and break and break until there's nothing left of you and all those walls are now people? Sounds terrible.
"I guess I never thought about that though. I never thought I would make it this far. I didn't let anyone in. It's easier to let them go if they were never yours to hold. Easier for them to forget you too if you weren't all that memorable. I've been such a bitch all these years," she groaned aloud. "Even he thought so, his special name for me."
She lifted and shook her head harshly. "Always were good at that, pickin' a fight. First one ta strike wins if 'ey hit the hardest. Did it t'ya too. Sumt'ings don' chan'e." Heather looked up at him full of regret, her childhood accent strong and full force now. "Why'd'ya take it? No one else would."
-
Raz blinked yet again, and arched a quizzical brow in her direction. "No, Heather. You don't break, and the walls don't simply become something else. You give in, take down the walls, and let the people in. People aren't all as bad as you're used to." He gave a small smile.
"And in the end, you know what? If people think youre a bitch, or whatever else? Fuck 'em. It's the people that think - no, know otherwise that matter. The people youre close to, the one's you trust. People like...your parents. Drop 'em. Move on. There's millions of people far, far better than that." At this point, he was leaning in again, trying to redirect her, show her that things were better than her initial outlook had showed her.
"And if ya mean the elbow to the face? Like I told you. It's not the first time I've been hit. Probably won't be the last. And besides that, one of the unfortunate things to get used to is that pain is a part of life. It's up to you, what you can and can't take. Not everything's worth lashing out at."
He grinned here, and winked at her, sapphire eyes flashing. "Besides, like I said, it was my fault. I deserved it, even if I didn't know it. But. Certain behavior will be expected of you when you graduate. Public relations will hand you your ass if you go punching an overly avid fan of yours. And you will have them."
-
The more he talked, the more she scowled at his answers. How could she believe in good and pure and innocent again when her childhood, the quintessential time for all those things, had been filed with darkness and fear and pain? Heather was not going to understand overnight. It was possible even they would have to revisit six ideals again in the future but for the moment she let it go. She could be content in the knowledge that she was safe with Razican. As for Matt, she was sure she could shut him out again. She could go back to being the cold heartless bitch.
"Maybe I'll jus' bay PR. Clean up all da messes an' leave ou' all da res'." Heather smirked at him even as she internally cringed at the idea of having people rooting for her. That thought was quickly locked away, bribing her back to focus on the more serious conversation at hand.
"I meant the screamin'. Callin' ya a coward an' weak. Hurlin' the venom. I knew what I was doin' and I dids it anyhow. Plentya mentors woulda hit me for it. Woulda sent me to the tanks and washed them hands o' me. You don'. I think that scares me more 'an anythin'. Whydya tell me when it'd be easier to get rid o' me?"