"All I have left is art. I may seem like a jerk but I’m not, I have too many thoughts and I can’t contain them. Art is my only escape and it’s my only savior in this twisted environment. Every color on the canvas has a meaning. No one bothers to get to know me anyways, a pen and paper is a better friend than anyone else anyways." (Tracking CaelebTurner. )
/She grimaces slightly as she looks at the scars along his back. Hesitating, she lightly touched his back, not wanting to hurt him, and closed her eyes.
I can tell your muscle is all messed up, but that doesn’t seem to be what’s causing it…I’m not sure what is though…
Caeleb nodded, staring at the board in amazement. It wasn’t enough, not yet, it didn’t prove anything. Lia could just be manipulating the board… Or simply guessing. He had to ask something only Claire would know the answer to. Trembling, Caeleb swallowed, tasting the question.
“How many pills were left in your hand?” he whispered quietly, not even glancing at Lia as the little table top slid from letter to letter, spelling out the right answer. Frowning, Caeleb looked back up at Lia. There was no way she would know. So Claire was moving it… But what about Lia?
It was a sensitive question to Claire, Lia could tell. But as Claire began to softly hum a rhyme, Lia realized that the ill sickness that the spirit used to feel about her suicide no longer affected her. She realized that all that was left for Claire to remember was her little poem, and her friends safety.
One step, stumbling, and too queasy,
Lost in the moment, this just isn’t me.
4 pills in my stomach, toxic and sick.
6 trembling in my hands, just incase my death is not quick.
Caeleb and Misha and Zana and C,
All that matters now is my friends’ safety.
And I hum this poem now for I mustn’t forget,
I put them through pain, and their freedom shall be my debt.
Lia listened with a queasy stomach and careful ears, waiting for the scratching of the ouija board to cease before she slowly replied. “Six.”
The poem rang in her ears, plugging itself in the back of her head. Claire was losing memories, as spirits do, and she had found a clever way to remember it with a too catchy poem.
Caeleb met Lia's eyes, his hands shaking. He looked back at the space he imagined Claire was, and his eyes filled with tears that he forced away. Not even daring to blink, he smiled softly. "I hope you're safe and happy now" he whispered, before lifting his fingers off the ouija board.
After taking a deep breath to anchor him back on Earth, he looked up at Lia. "How did you escape? And why come back here?"
Caeleb paused, waiting. The bell sounded and Caeleb almost jumped away from the board in surprise, but a cursory check showed no one there. He cast a suspicious eye at Lia, but she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Caeleb waited, impatiently, but nothing happened. He started to lift his hands off the table top when it started moving. He pressed down against the wood.
“Claire?” He whispered, not yet daring to believe.
Lia crossed her arms tightly around her chest, canceling out all the other disappointed spirits voices. She focused on the slight scratching of the table top on the board, listening to the quiet whisper of Claire’s voice as she silently spoke out the word she was spelling.
Claire.
And after the scratching had finished, and there was a momentary silence, Lia spoke. “Claire.”
Caeleb nodded, staring at the board in amazement. It wasn't enough, not yet, it didn't prove anything. Lia could just be manipulating the board... Or simply guessing. He had to ask something only Claire would know the answer to. Trembling, Caeleb swallowed, tasting the question.
"How many pills were left in your hand?" he whispered quietly, not even glancing at Lia as the little table top slid from letter to letter, spelling out the right answer. Frowning, Caeleb looked back up at Lia. There was no way she would know. So Claire was moving it... But what about Lia?
//HI. Activity on this RP is seriously low. In the summer, we had planned courses of action and that worked well. Can we decide on an active plot line for the next couple of months, like planning and plotting a successful escape or the institute setting a group of loyals on a long term mission or something. I know I'm not an admin but it's been really quiet the last couple of months.
Caeleb stepped forward, watching her. As he processed her words, he touched the pointer with his fingertips. There were so many people he could have called; people died every year in the institute. Serena, Anna Rose, all of them. But one name floated to the forefront of his mind.
Quietly, Caeleb whispered Claire’s name, keeping his eyes on the board, expectant.
Lia was not at all surprised when she could feel the chilling whispers around her head. Spirits bumping into each other, trying to race towards the board. Trying to be the first to speak. But Lia wasn’t dumb, as she knew who the boy wanted to speak with, and in her own mind as well called upon Claire’s name. And suddenly, all the spirits went silent. The door jingled, but there was no footsteps to follow. Then a silent hush went throughout the room, as spirits spoke with each other quietly.
She’s here…
Why must she ruin all my chances..
She must speak with the boy
And then, out of all the rough sounding ghosts that surrounded Lia, one voice countered against the rest. It was soft and sweet and at the same time, concerned.
Thank You.
Then after an eventless minute, she could here the tabletop begin to slide on top the board.
Caeleb paused, waiting. The bell sounded and Caeleb almost jumped away from the board in surprise, but a cursory check showed no one there. He cast a suspicious eye at Lia, but she wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Caeleb waited, impatiently, but nothing happened. He started to lift his hands off the table top when it started moving. He pressed down against the wood.
"Claire?" He whispered, not yet daring to believe.
Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother's only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.
"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.
Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?"
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.
"Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star."
A door swung open, and there was a collective gasp as two brides walked in. Wait, no, there was only one pair of footsteps. Jayden and Caeleb exchanged a worried glance before they heard the whoop-whoop of a large pair of wings sweeping in.
When Misha finally landed beside him, Caeleb almost forgot the rest of the world. Her dress was close fitting around the chest, backless to allow wings the air to breath, but flared out slightly at the bottom, allowing Misha both her cheeky tights - and as Caeleb later discovered her even cheekier garter - and her manouverability in the skirt. The word of the ceremony were a blur, unimportant phrases except for those two syllables and then they kissed, and Caeleb wasn't sure whether the thundering in his ears was his heart, hers, or the crowds cheers. It could have even been a crusade.
Three months in and Caeleb jolted from his painting, smearing red all over the page, as Misha shrieked bloody murder. In a moment he was next to her, and the blood and tissue on the bed told him everything he needed to know. Tears flooded down both their eyes as Caeleb brought them to the hospital. No one batted an eyelid at his instrcutions, sweeping Misha into a medical room as Caeleb cursed himself for cursing Misha. The one mutant Seb hadn't been able to fix because Caeleb's whole body was programmed for it, and now their child had payed the price.
Misha was safe, they were happy. A small infant was wrapped in her arms, and her face glowed. Caeleb offered a grin too, although it was more of a grimace; she'd broken at least two of his fingers in the last two hours. The blonde boy with hazel eyes was sleeping, his hands as small as Caeleb's thumb. Smiling, Caeleb kissed Misha's forhead. This child would be his even if the genes weren't.
And yes, Aaron grew up as Caeleb's kid. Misha worked long hours as a music teacher, organising concerts and choirs and smiles for every student. Caeleb worked on his art, and when he came home, Aaron would help. Although he knew nothing of shading and the violent emotions that Caeleb poured into his work, Aaron's pieces were the ones that adorned the walls.
Caeleb caught himself smiling, before a sharp pain shot through his arm like electricity. These weren't the tiny shocks Jayden set on him when he was daydreaming, this was fire and ice colliding and crashing in his blood.
"Wakey wakey, time for the show," Caeleb's eyes flickered open, and he realised once more that innocence were nothing but a distant dream. He could already hear activity in the bird cages as Arella fought to hide Annie behind her black wings. In the distance a scream echoed, as once more Zana and Jason were forced to feed. Caeleb looked up at the crazed eyes ring master, trying to pull his arm away from that acid grip.
Caeleb glared at her. That was impossible; no one had ever successfully escaped the institute, and if by a miracle, they had, they wouldn’t came back to the same Island they were imprisoned on. Still, his gut insisted she was safe, even if everything else was telling him to knock her out and run.
With slow movements, Lia reached down to the drawer on her right. She opened it, and carefully pulled out one of her boards. She set it up, lighting certain candles around the board before pushing it carefully in front of him.
“You use the board. I’ll turn around and guess what the spirit is saying to you.” She instructed. This had been the only way she’d known how to prove she wasn’t a fraud. “You can ask for anyone you want, but whomever shows up on the board is who’s speaking.”
Caeleb stepped forward, watching her. As he processed her words, he touched the pointer with his fingertips. There were so many people he could have called; people died every year in the institute. Serena, Anna Rose, all of them. But one name floated to the forefront of his mind.
Quietly, Caeleb whispered Claire's name, keeping his eyes on the board, expectant.
