BRICK

Samson Nemo. 18. Majoring in Engineering at Bellum University.

[samson-nemo]

$ ツ ✆ %

Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

text | shade guerra: You’ve been teaching my drone profanity. [sent] [05/14/2016 9:15pm]text | shade guerra: You’re not Darius. [sent] [05/14/2016 9:18pm]text | shade guerra: Sorry.  [sent] [05/14/2016 9:19pm]

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

text | shade guerra: I have redesigned majority the technology in the dorm for functionality and efficiency as well as adding some others into effect for efficiency, most notably several drones throughout the shared kitchen and bathroom. This is a warning to you so you are not later alarmed. [sent] [05/22/2016 12:56pm]text | shade guerra: I have left a list of instructions for how to operate the drones throughout the dorm if you have an interest, however they do respond to direct voice commands so operation should not be too complex. [sent] [05/22/2016 12:59pm]text | shade guerra: Don’t freeze them. [sent] [05/14/2016 1:12pm]

Send “✆” for a MORNING text.

text | shade guerra: I’m coming up from the lab. If you and any other individual are currently in any state of undress or sexual engagement in any public area of our dorm I would suggest ceasing or relocating. [sent] [05/20/2016 7:26am]text | shade guerra: Also, good morning. [sent] [05/20/2016 7:28am]

Send “%” for a CURIOUS text.

text | shade guerra: Would you be open to relaying me a sample of your blood? [sent] [05/18/2016 2:44am]text | shade guerra: For experimental purposes.  [sent] [05/18/2016 2:44am]

[gallagherista]

[samson-nemo]

✉, ø, @, &, ツ

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.

text | emma utonium: I like you too. [05/13/2016, 11:49pm]

Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text.

text | emma utonium:  There was a mention of pain suppression in your file [unsent] [05/02/16 2:12am]text | emma utonium: Does your pain suppression also have power over psychological elements or is it completely limited to physical? [unsent] [05/14/2016 4:16am]text | emma utonium: I’d like for you to use your pain suppression on myself. [unsent] [05/16/2016 5:02am]text | emma utonium: Hypothetically, if someone you were familiar with wanted exposure to your pain suppression for reasons that did not include physical injury, would you be open to treating that semi regularly. Full disclosure that that person is myself. [unsent] [05/19/2016 3:32am]text | emma utonium: Are you awake? [unsent] [05/22/2016 2:54am]text: emma utonium: I’m at your door. [sent] [05/26/2016 1:09am]

Send “@” for a SCARED text.

text | emma utonium: r u ok?1 [sent] [05/23/2016 3:26am]text | emma utonium: please ignore the previous text, I was disoriented. Sorry for disturbing your sleep. [sent] [05/23/2016 3:39am]

Send “&” for a LOVING text.

text | emma utonium: I have come to the hospital and you currently do not seem to be scheduled. Micah has expressed that he misses your presence. [sent] [05/21/2016 12:13pm]text | emma utonium: Also, he lost a tooth, presumably his last. He wishes to show it to you when you are next here. [sent] [05/21/2016 12:42pm]text | emma utonium: At what point would that be? [sent] [05/21/2016 1:00pm]text | emma utonium: He prefers you over the other volunteers. He claims you are significantly kinder. I’m inclined to agree. [sent] [05/21/2016 1:27pm]text | emma utonium: I feel as if this acknowledgement will bring you some amount of joy, based on previous experience so I feel as if I should tell you that Micah believes you are more physically attractive than the other volunteers. He also expressed some amount of camaraderie with you because your hair is occasionally curly like his. He is also convinced you’re a nurse. [sent] [05/21/2016 1:31pm]

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

text | emma utonium: Were you aware that Micah had a cellular device?[sent] [05/21/2016 2:11pm]text | emma utonium: He is too young for one. [sent] [05/21/2016 2:12pm]text | emma utonium: We exchanged numbers.[sent] [05/21/2016 2:12pm]

[caellumadriendarcy-deactivated2]

Is his feet up on the desk? The teacher is going to freak… Perhaps he wasn’t talking to the Sam he used to know. Science fair Sam seemed to be okay to hang around with, but this was different. Again, he was having the same problem he had with many of his classmates who didn’t go to Potencia- he never saw them in school. It was starting to get frustrating. He didn’t necesarily dislike Sam for this- after all, it wasn’t his fault- but he would need some way to figure out who he wanted to be around.

“I would. She’s pretty. Though I’m pretty she turned around to stare at me.” He drily responded, a frown on his face. “I guess I can apologize later.” No bad things were ever said about Caellum. He wanted to keep it that way. Being in the U Program, especially with those he didn’t like, were going to pose an obvious challenge.

“It’s no big deal, though. Not like the award you won at Nationals in eighth grade. That was pretty cool.” He admitted. At the time, he was jealous, but after winning the equivalent for chemistry, he didn’t feel too bad. In a way, he respected Brick, but only because his intelligence matched his own in many categories. He didn’t really know anything else about him. “Is this a thing of yours? Staring until they squirm and turn away- like do you enjoy it?” Caellum did the same type of thing, but not nearly as much as Sam used to do it.

[samson-nemo]

Samson merely nods at the observation, having honestly expected the same thing. 

“Likely. From what I understand, my factors of attraction are merely physical, along with the addition initial traits of intelligence, mystery, and apparently, challenge. Apparently the appeal of these aforementioned traits are soon erased by my personality...” Samson says bluntly, having gathered that at least from the spattering of blind dates Darius had set him up on. His dates were honest with enough prompting, something Samson actually appreciated more than any of their company. He turns to Caellum then, starts with, “You, on the other hand, hold many of those same traits. Your face is relatively symmetrical, your body is proportioned, and you do not hide your intelligence. Instead of mystery you have the addition of fame, from what I understand. Or some amount of idolization, which is a factor in and of itself. Besides that, you put in the effort to be charming. Example being, apologizing for an action that wasn’t even your own.” Samson pauses after the assessment, tries to think if anything was missed and finds no holes in his theory, nods and turns his attention back tot he ceiling. “There’s at least an eighty seven percent chance she was looking at you.”

Samson blinks at the mention of his previous accomplishments, turns to Caellum in slight surprise. His previous accomplishments in the science field weren’t something he thought over often. They were memories of a life before, of a time where times were dark for a very different reason, a time where that darkness wasn’t anything compared to what it would be. 

A time when Caellum and himself had an arrangement approaching friendship. 

Caellum was from a time that Samson regularly deigns to recall. He doesn’t know what to do with this revelation, doesn’t know what it’ll mean for whatever this interaction between them progresses into. But it was something curious to contemplate, that Caellum could bring him back to a time before wreckage with just a few short words. Samson is suddenly startled by the realization that Caellum Darcy, a boy he barely knew, is currently and singularly Samson’s only connection to his childhood. To his past before Sarac. 

A moment of thought.

“Are you... comparing your attractiveness to me winning an award for electrical engineering?” Samson is asking blankly, as he turns back to Caellum his confusion at the connection clear in the slow pinch of his brows. “Because.... I’m not quite sure the accomplishments can be compared.” Sam pauses a moment, awkwardly unsure of how to proceed with this before, “....Your award within the Chemistry category was also well deserved.” 

And Samson has a moment of discomfort where he wonders if this would be the appropriate time to thank Caellum on top of that, if Caellum’s statement was meant for more than acknowledgement in return when-

Samson blinks at the comment. Once. Twice as the implication of the statement slowly comes to him, years of conversation with Darius bringing him some amount of understanding and Samson keeps his expression blank.

“Sexually?” Samson deadpans, his gaze not wavering from Caellum’s and he’s well aware of how odd his sense of humor can be, but the concept of him getting sexual pleasure from deterring people is too ludicrous for him to leave alone, “Of course. Is my arousal at the current situation not clear?” 

[kalifatale-blog]

Kali sprawled out languidly along the sofa in the shared lounge space in the U Program’s dormitory. She’d just finished a six mile run around campus and she could feel her pulse thudding in her ears as her heart rate started slowing down. There was something about the soreness in her muscles – the feeling of every bit of her being pushed to the edge without overexerting herself. It was one of her favorite feelings; the sensation of strength even through exhaustion. It made her feel powerful. With her eyes shut, she spent a few minutes listening to the muffled sounds of other students shuffling about in their doors. It was a noticeable change from Sarac’s environment. Her former school had been dominated by the sounds of yelling, fights and overall chaos – the institution having clearly been a cover up for its Headmasters devious plans. 

The brunette female opened her eyes slowly; her gaze landing on the dart board that she and Ace had glued to the ceiling on a day that they had been feeling particularly lazy. They had pinned a climbing net to the wall and partially onto the ceiling to retrieve the darts stuck up there. It was a perfect excuse to climb up along the walls, much to the irritation of the staff. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards and she reached for the bucket of darts that lay on the floor beneath the coffee table. Closing one eye and aligning her aim, Kali tossed the first dart in the air. Thwack! It landed right on the line of the inner circle. She tossed the second dart – thwack – this one landed just inside the inner circle. As she threw another dart towards the ceiling, a noise distracted her focus causing the dart to miss the target completely. Kali’s eyes widened as she watched as the dart returned towards the ground, straight towards her face and rolled off the couch just as the dart punctured the pillow that had once been beneath her head. She blinked rapidly before turning her head in the direction of the noise that had diverted her attention earlier. Her eyes narrowed darkly, “What are you trying to do? Sneak up on me?”

[samson-nemo]

Samson’s brows furrow at the words, his eyes flicking to the ruined pillow before glancing back at Kali. 

“What would I gain from that?” He asks in confusion, slightly surprised that the noise of him entering the floor had distracted her so much at all. He had finally decided to come up from the sub-levels of the lab after exactly thirty eight hours, six minutes, and forty nine seconds. He had been working on a project he couldn’t quite figure out, one he could never seem to completely master: himself. 

With only semi limited access to utonium and finally without the added bonus of Professor Mohegan’s hand clenched around his neck, Samson finally has the time and resources to experiment with his teleportation the way he wanted to. He was trying, and currently failing, to discover how to use his teleportation outside of himself, to teleport objects without contact, to, for lack of other words, summon.

The entire project was frustratingly enough, not going well. Especially since he had already achieved the power to evoke once, due to the chemical reaction of a bombard of specific chemical stimuli, a rush of After tinkering with utonium and other substances to try and master certain aspects of his powers, an alteration to his neurotransmitters but-

Samson was never getting that drunk again, if he could help it. 

His best chance was to mimic the same neurological reaction. Which was difficult to do without disorienting himself, and equally more difficult to accomplish without the aid of nutrition.

Thus why he was currently here apparently frightening Femme Fatale into near decapitation, or at least rather crude trepanning. 

Samson glances up at the cieling above them, squints at the dart board there for a moment before slowly dislodging the darts with his tired mind, drifting them down from the cieling and into the bucket in careful efficient movements. 

“I am currently attempting to find food.” Samson says as the last dart drops into the bucket, his eyes turning back to Kali in some amount of amusement. “Seeing as my motivations do not solely center around you.”

[jetutonium-blog]

A smirk pulled up across Jet’s lips triumphantly when Sam finally reappeared and relented. Now this, this she could work with. “That’s more like it,” she said, eyes not leaving the boy’s form as he seemed to study them and decide what the next best move would be. 

For the brief moment when neither of them acted, they felt victorious — powerful. Jet wasn’t a leader, nor was she one who thought things out clearly before executing her actions. Jet acted with their fists, punching and kicking and bruising when they could. Compared to someone like Sam, — someone who had it all put together the way Ada did — Jet was probably nothing but a pawn. Someone to send out and fight.

( She’d do that if it was demanded of her. If Ada or Sam wanted her to fight front line, Jet would do be gladly and put their heart out into it. But it didn’t mean that they liked being controlled. )

But at that very moment, they were equals. Hell, she probably had the upper hand here. The Rugueux had said it himself — physical training wasn’t something he was used to. It was, however, what Jet grew up on. She knew how to fight physically like she knew how to breathe. Every move wasn’t just a thought out strategy, it was instinctive and it was a part of who she was. 

She let herself fall into the rhythm of the fight. This was her zone. Her own leg lifted swiftly as soon as she saw Sam’s moving, their knee blocking his from causing damage to their rib. “I won’t go easy on you,” Jet remarked, the smirk tugging on her lips growing wider by the second. “Hit harder. You wouldn’t want me to beat your ass, would you?” With that, a fist swung at the boy’s face.

[samson-nemo]

Samson barely manages to pull out of the way of a blow to the face, wonders momentarily how many bones would have suffered from it. With the movement her grabs onto Jet’s wrist, pulls them as he takes a step around them, smoothly switches to being behind them rather than in front. He’s not quite sure if he can hit harder. Strength has never been something he puts time into, but-

Perhaps he can use their strength against them. 

Adeline was the one with enhanced stamina after all. 

“It is not the outcome to this interaction that I would prefer.” He says in response to their question, fists back up in a defensive stance as his eyes study them for their next movements. 

[adautonium-blog]

Ada leveled her gaze on him as he redirected the shards back at her. It was clever on his part, but Ada was better.  Sam pulling the mat caused her to stumble backwards not giving her enough time to run as she originally planned, so she raised her hand to freeze the shards in midair and redirected the shards, expanding and sharpening the shards to the likeness of swords as they travel, towards the medicine balls.

Using the few seconds she bought herself, she froze the moisture around her fingers and created claws to slash the stray ball her ice blades didn’t manage to hit.  As Ada hopped up from the ground, she cursed herself for her lack of precision and the burn she was feeling from the ice. It wasn’t a perfected technique, but practice made perfect. “They’re not going to be happy about the ruined balls,” she laughed before sending a trail of ice on the ground towards his location.

[samson-nemo]

Sam watches her curiously as she deals with his tactics, takes the moment of distraction to watch her movements, look for an opening. 

As she sends the ice towards him he teleports behind her, over shoots by a bit but doesn’t mind it, it was an avoidance tactic, and as long as he was out of harm it was successful. 

Next time he will be more precise. 

“They’re not going to be happy about a lot of things.” Samson says as he takes advantage of his change of location, pulls more mats from the ground to send them speeding in Ada’s direction with plans to detain, to wrap them around her. 

[emma-utonium-blog]

He sounds so gentle, almost soft. It’s a side of Sam that Emma hasn’t seen, although one that she isn’t surprised by; even the most serious of people hide their own tenderness.

It’s nice, to see it. She feels lucky to know this part of Sam, even if it’s only by chance that Micah is at the hospital Emma’s been volunteering at for years.

“It’s funny how you can’t help but love certain people,” Emma says, stepping forward and smoothing the hair out of Micah’s face. The maternal instinct is strongly ingrained in her, although she is only eighteen, and her fingers always ache to touch another.

Realizing what she’d just done, Emma looks to Sam with an apologetic smile and shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry — I hope that was okay. It’s a habit.”

The first thing Emma thinks is that the way he speaks is pretty. Each word sounds intentional, specially chosen from a clearly expansive vocabulary and strung together with a sturdy thread. She likes it; she likes his directness, and the way his eyes never waver as he talks.

And the words he has to give her are especially generous, forgiving of her own self-consciousness. Emma smiles gratefully and shrugs her shoulders, not quite sure if he speaks the truth or if it’s her own self-serving desire to turn her flaws into something prettier. “I guess. I like to think I’m strong, yeah. Especially with my sisters by my side,” she says.

She feels connected to him, somehow. As if they have a friendship, as if she can trust him already. She can hear it in the back of her mind: Jet warning her to be careful, Ada reminding her not to give her heart to others so easily. But looking at Sam now, Emma can’t imagine him doing the unspeakable thing they’d told her of. It’s the same feeling she gets with Ryoji: that they are more than what they’ve done.

Then again, she doesn’t know what they’ve done. But does it matter?

“I like you,” she says plainly, as if it’s a fact that cannot be helped. Her shoulders lift and drop daintily yet again as her expression shifts to one of what can you do? “At first, I thought you were really serious and intimidating. But you’re like me. You would do anything for the people you love.” She glances at Micah and smiles again, reminded of her own sisters. “Especially our family.”

[samson-nemo]

Sam tenses as her hand moves towards Micah, an instinct that he can’t suppress even knowing that Emma was who she was, even knowing she was a volunteer here. He can’t help it. 

But Emma does nothing of harm, hands just as gentle and tender on Micah’s own skin and Sam’s wishes his could be in that moment. His fear of waking Micah up kept his hands at bay, eyes following the movement in a surge of a feeling he can’t pinpoint. All he knew was that knowing someone who cared for his brother any amount to as much as he did was almost startling, and oddly reassuring. “It’s fine.” And the words are soft around the edges, as blunt as usual but not completely as hard. 

And as she answers Sam thinks of the way her hands brushed Micah’s brow, fingers nurturing and kind, movement natural with obvious practice. He can imagine Emma’s hands have eased the pain of many, comforted many, aided many, and in a moment he’s simply aware of that. Aware of it and sure he wouldn’t spend nearly the amount of time on such a task himself. 

“You don’t have to fight to be strong.” Sam says slowly, because The Pouvoir shun in battle, saved lives and countries and Sam couldn’t understand the need. Countries would fall. People would die. But they still did it, and that was something to say for itself. But that was an outward show of strength, combat. What Emma was doing with kind hands now-

Well her sisters were not by her side. She wasn’t lifting any buildings, yet some part of Samson still saw it as a show of strength. 

And then-

I like you. 

Samson stills after the words. Watches her with blank eyes even as his brow furrows slightly. He listens, hears her words and is momentarily stricken by them. By how easy it seems for her to be able to tell a part of who he is, when Samson regularly has trouble discerning when someone is upset with him, or angry without a blatant show of the emotion. 

You’re like me. 

And Samson’s fist curl on the arm rests of the hospital chair, looking at the girl with kind hands as he can accurately remember his own, covered in the pain of others, not even a handful of months ago--

He was nothing like her.

“I should leave.” He says abruptly, and he’s getting up then, careful not to scrap the chair behind him. Some part of him is unsettled, some part confused, but almost all of him wants to leave. “I have to go.”

[caellumadriendarcy-deactivated2]

Caellum doesn’t even recognize who he was sitting next to until he decides to look over.

What a surprise.

Caellum vividly remembered Samson, or Sam, as he occasionally called him. Before college, when he had more time, he was busy doing science fairs. Sam was his biggest competition, every single time. He was the one that stopped him from getting awards twice in a row. When speaking of science, he was just as smart as he was. 

In a sense, Sam was a friend. Caellum was grateful for all of his friends putting up with him, even if he hadn’t seen him in a long time. All the better. Caellum was ever changing, Sam would need to keep up if he had any chance of getting closer with him. 

Caellum’s shouldr muscles tensed at the obvious pop while he opened up his laptop. With a small smile, he looked at the girl, but when she turned away, he instantly looked at Sam, who was staring. 

“I’m good, thanks for asking. But Sam, you’ll never talk to girls if you just stare.” He advised. “A hint.”

[samson-nemo]

Sam turns to Caellum at the comment, his eyes squinting at the other boy incredulously. He almost has the urge to scoff, but he stifles it as he raises his feet up onto the desk, crosses them at the ankles. 

“I have no desire to talk to her.” Sam says bluntly, leaning back in his chair once again. 

Samson tips his head back, stares at the ceiling as he hears the professors droning voice echo through the lecture halls speakers. Caellum wasn’t someone he knew incredibly well. Sure, they had competed together when they were younger, posed an actual challenge to each other in a world were they usually struggled to find one. It was something nice, then, when he was not just alone, but lonely and even now, a small part of him appreciated Caellum for it, despite the fact that he’s very much sure the other boy had no idea what he did. 

Sam saw nothing wrong with keeping it that way.

“If starring prevents that, then I’m doing the right thing.”

[kalifatale-blog]

His joke was met with a roll of her dark eyes. Samson’s sense of humor was much like her own – although much drier – and she found it wasn’t as well executed when he did it than when she made her quips. “Stage fright,” she repeated with an acknowledging shrug. “There’s always going to be somebody watch…ING!” Her final word tampered off into a shout of surprise as her feet suddenly flew up from under her and she found herself floating several feet above the ground.

“God dammit,” she cursed as instinct had her arms spreading out in an attempt to catch herself on something, anything. There was nothing within reach, of course, and Kali was left to deal with the unsettling feeling in her stomach that floating was giving her. Sam began spinning her and she huffed in irritation, doing her best to spot but feeling slightly lightheaded regardless. “Well, doll face, if you’d be so kind as to let me down, I would just love to show you what I really think.”

[samson-nemo]

“True. But I try to deter unwanted attention when I can. Within this situation, it does not seem as if doing that is an option.” Sam mumbles conversationally as he twist her gently through the air, careful of not the bang her into any high rafters or walls. He had no real attachment to Kali but he also had no desire to bring her any permanent damage. After all, it wasn’t as if he had anything against her. 

At the request he stills her, leaves her upside down in midair for a moment until he turns her upright with a thought. “... you are of significantly less threat to me up there, than down here. That alone eliminates any desire for me to set you down, besides that, statistically,” Samson’s eyes glint with his growing amusement, “One in three individuals have expressed the desire for human flight. You’re living the dream of many, Kali.”

[millicent-duvall]

SHE WAS smirking, his instant reaction to the  n i c k n a m e  was what millicent was  [ aiming ] for. taunting was a vial tool used in many melee combat – and taunting was something millicent was skilled in, among other things. 

MILLICENT WAS calculated. careful in all her  m o v e m e n t s  when it came to combat; she trained previously, and she knew in order to be successful, you had to be [ calculated ]. she studied his  s t a n c e  and took note on how he  h e l d  the staff – until it came towards her. it all seemed to go in slow motion, the staff cutting through air, a direct hit to her stomach if she didn’t [ jump back ] . millicent  t w i r l e d  to the right, body moving as light as a feather ( something she learned whilst taking ballet classes ), then  s w u n g  her own staff at his right side. “you’re not too bad, samson – sadly it’s almost like i’m training with a ten year old.” 

[samson-nemo]

Sam watches her pull out of the staffs path with slight admiration, watches her staff come towards him and has to resist the urge to use teleportation as a dodging tactic. It’s like suppressing and instinct, and it throws Sam off a moment, but he just manages to side step the blow, uses telekinesis to pull the staff on the floor into his hand finally. 

“Thank you.” Sam says easily, straightening with the staff in hand, regarding Millicent coolly. He’s beginning to understand how this works, what she wants from this conversation. Challenge. Verbal sparring as well as physical. Samson could manage that. “But seeing as you’ve been training for much longer than I have, I’d expect you to at least be able to match me.”

The comment is toneless and dry but he feels as if it has the desired affect. He twirls the staff between his fingers for a moment, letting his mind help his fingers, keep them from fumbling. He abruptly turns the weapon, swings it down from above, as if almost to strike Millicent straight over the head. 

[kalifatale-blog]

“Clearly,” she quipped as she stretched her legs out. “Question, do you want to actually learn how to fight or are you content with cheating your way through missions?” Kali would rather be training with someone who knew what they were doing, but figured that learning how to beat someone who could teleport would be a nice notch to have under her belt. Unlike some of the others, training had always been a part of her regimen. She hadn’t achieved a black belt in jiu jitsu by just sitting on her ass and letting things come to her. Her eyes followed his line of sight and focused on the camera, rolling her eyes before returning her focus onto her opponent. “Don’t tell me you get stage fright,” Kali chuckled, cracking her knuckles before readying her stance. “Less talk, more actions, pretty boy. I want to see what you’re really made of.”

[samson-nemo]

“I’m fine with cheating.” Samson says honestly, in some amount of humour. He didn’t consider using his powers cheating. He wasn’t born with him but they were as much apart of him as his limb, lungs, heart. He found no guilt in using them to his advantage. At her comment he tilts his head in a shrug, explains, “I’m just not fond of being watched.” 

With her demand Sam tilts his head, watches her stance for a analyzing moment before he pulls with his mind, lifts her up off her feet, a swift rise towards the ceiling. He turns her gently in the air, spinning without the intent to do more than disorient as he blandly asks, “You really think I’m pretty?”

[adautonium-blog]

Ada scoffed, not wanting to be here just as much as Sam, but her father’s words about the importance of physical training surfaced in her head. She waved her hand in front of them to lower the temperature around them, welcoming the coldness around them. If she decided to use her speed and then strike, he could easily teleport away from her so she needed to ensure that she had as much control of the field they were on as possible. 

She flicked her hand, producing and sending sharp shards of ice towards Sam. The point of practice sparring for her was to determine effective ways to restrain her opponent.  Ada had faith that people could change, but the realist in her knew better than to trust blind faith. If any of them goes off the rails, Ada would make sure she was there to stop them. With the best strategy formulated to exploit their weakness of course. 

[samson-nemo]

Samson feels the change in temperature and raises a brow. Balancing the playing field to her advantage, interesting. Sam does nothing, merely shifts and waits until can see shards of ice forming in the air, flying his way. Sam lets his eyes follow them as he twists his mind to push against them slightly, not with urge to slow them but to work with their momentum, use the method contains the least effort on his part to only turn them in a fluid arch back in Ada’s direction. 

Sam drives them forwards straights towards her, already knowing that with her control over the element, using them in an attack wouldn’t work well. So he uses the distraction to pull the mat from under her feet, glances around the room briefly before spotting a few medicine balls along the wall, flicking a hand to lift them and throw them in Ada’s direction as well. 

[emma-utonium-blog]

Emma follows his gaze to Micah, who sleeps blissfully on, not knowing that his older brother is watching him so lovingly, not knowing that a hospital volunteer has become attached to him as well, if only because she knows his brother. “He’s a good nugget,” she says softly, feeling somehow that this moment is a sacred one, that Micah is sacred to Samson in a way Emma may never truly understand. “He’s kind of my favorite,” she admits sheepishly, too embarrassed to look at him.

She can understand, perhaps better than most people, that there are people who are yours, completely. Her sisters are hers. Her fathers are hers — were hers, until fathers became father and Emma was left wondering who she was when she could hardly feel whole without both. But Samson and Micah are different; Emma understands this without being told. It’s clear in the persistence of Sam’s visits, although she can’t read much of his expression alone. 

His actions tell her much more than his words ever could, though.

The way he words it makes Emma feel self-conscious, makes her feel vain and self-centered and bad. Is it so wrong to like the way you look, to want other people to like it, too? She’s sure Sam finds it ridiculous, and maybe other people would, too; her own sisters would, certainly. 

“Yeah,” she says with slight discomfort, wanting to squirm a little underneath his all-knowing gaze. “Maybe it’s wrong of me,” Emma thinks out loud, still watching Micah, “but I like being pretty.” Finally, she looks back at him, not quite caring if he sees her heart in her eyes. “You’re probably not that way, are you?” she says with a smile. “You seem stronger than that. I don’t know, maybe that’s just me.”

“Maybe that’s good,” Emma says slowly, “Because then it means more. Jet said something the other day that made me think it’s easier to appreciate good things if it doesn’t come very often. You know? Like you.” 

Without warning, a smile comes to her lips, breaking her quiet, reflecting mood. “That can’t be true,” she teases, “Because I like having you around. You’re not that bad, Sam.”

[samson-nemo]

Sam’s lips turn up slightly at that, his eyes warm on his brother. He resists the urge to touch him, something foreign to him. Not resisting the urge to touch people, but having the urge at all. 

“Micah’s good at that.” Sam offers gently, eyes flicking to her. “At... drawing fondness.”

It was something that separated the brothers, Samson thought. Micah was naturally lovable, bright and happy in a way that drew people in, while all Samson’s coldness did was keep them back, at arms length. He doesn’t know what this differentiation stems from, after all, according to his parents he was born this way. He’s quite sure there was no psychological or scientific reason why Micah was the sun and he wasn’t. 

This fact was the first thing that made Samson accept that some things just were, without explanation, without equation, without reason. Some things just were the way they were. He was one of those things.  

Sam listens to her carefully, his eyes squinting at what seems to be a demonstration of discomfort from her. He starts shaking his head slightly at her question, but as she continues he stops, pauses. “Just because I have no interest in my physical appearance, or what others think of it, does not make me strong.” Sam says instantly, the blunt words laced with slight confusion at why that specific attribute of his would be related to that trait. He pauses a moment, eyes not straying from hers as he says, “And just because you care for yours, and enjoy the attention that comes from that care, doesn’t make you weak.” And that it’s a fact more than a reassurance. Simple logic. 

Sam blinks at her next statement, in mixture of confusion and surprise. He wasn’t sure if she was implying that he and Jet had the same mentality or if she was implying he was a good thing that didn’t occur often. 

For some reason he doesn’t ask. But then it just continues, a heavier implication, in fact outright statement that Emma found enjoyment in his company, which he couldn’t really understand. Him being here did nothing for her. And he knows himself enough to know he’s not particularly good company to most. 

“It is true.” Sam says confidently, eyes looking into hers with some amount of hesitance. “You might enjoy my company but... you’re one of few.” And he doesn’t understand why. He wonders a moment if he should thank her. Not that bad categorizes as a compliment right? He... honestly doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Should he leave?

[caellumadriendarcy-deactivated2]

“Right, exactly. College is a new phase for me but I’m looking forward to all Bellum has to offer. You heard that?” He laughed (fake, of course), into his phone. “I decided not to. Princeton has a quidditch team. I admit that I’m blessed with my intelligence, but that doesn’t make me a nerd, necessarily. Yes, I did build my phone… and I don’t have a boy band as my ringtone. Just because I met Five Seconds of Summer at the American Music Awards doesn’t make us best friends. Simply another rumor, feel free to dismiss it.” Relaxed on the outside, Caellum darted over closer to the clock outside of his next class (forgetting to bring his glasses was the most regretful mistake of his life). Shit. He was going to be late to another lecture. “I have to go now. No, thank you! I enjoyed this interview as much as you did, I assure you.” His teeth ground against each other, reflecting his pissed off mood. Slowly opening the door, he made his way up to the back of the room, where he could code his part of the app he was creating with Ada in peace. 

“Can I sit here?” Without an answer, he sat down quietly. Being silent was his specialty- he learned after years of wandering around his neighborhood (and the streets of Paris, and Venice, and Morocco, basically the world for God’s sake) with Millie. “Publicity and stuff, it can be pretty rough to get everyone in sometimes, you know?”

[samson-nemo]

Samson jolts awake at the sound of a voice near him, one instinct taking over the another, the need for sleep falling second to the need to protect himself, and his eyes are still blurred with sleep as he sees the silhouette of a pencil shoot off the desk in a moment, the first presumed weapon his mind could scramble for, the sharp point of it flying to pierce a pale neck before--

Oh.

Darcy. 

Sam let’s the pencil drop in a second, glances around to see if anyone noticed the slip as he leans down to pick it back up. No one seems to be looking by some stroke of luck, considering the attention Darcy seems to draw. Sam attributes the lack of attention to himself. It seemed if you just starred at people long enough the got uncomfortable enough to leave you alone. He was glad for that now more than ever. 

Sam straightens in a moment, let’s his eyes fall on a girl a few rows in front looking back at them both. He watches her until she squirms, turns back to the lecture in front of them, makes him relax enough to lean back, breathe.

He places the pencil back on the desk, tilts it straight so the point of it faces the front of the classroom. His heartbeat is finally slowing back to regular speed as he sighs, tilts his neck in a stretch. 

It’s only after a satisfying pop that he remembers something, looks to the other boy in as he recalls the norm with situations like this. 

“Sorry.” Samson says bluntly as he goes through the expected reply, says, “You were saying something?”

[adautonium-blog]

Finishing her stretches, Ada gave Sam a small smile, a sign that she agreed with the sentiment.  “You can’t be afraid of change though,” Ada rolled her shoulders and focused on his stance looking for any flaws she could use against him. She knew better than to underestimate him after their first unofficial meeting as Brick and Blossom. A physical move on his part is likely after he teleported to her to surprise, she reasoned remembering what she read from his file. 

[samson-nemo]

“Not afraid. More... annoyed.” Sam admits tiredly, watching as Ada watched him in curiosity. He’s wary of certain aspects, specifically close quarter combat. He wasn’t exactly eager for a bout of frostbite. 

So. All he had to do was not be still long enough for her to lay a blow. Easier said than anything else, considering the girls speed but, he was quite sure he was faster than her. He rolls his shoulders, eyes on hers as he tonelessly says, “First move is yours.”

[jetutonium-blog]

Enhanced strength wasn’t enhanced speed or agility, and Jet, having had played sports for almost all her life, knew that strength without either of those was the equivalent of an unmoving rock — harmless, no matter how strong. Which was exactly why they were thanking whatever God existed up there for the fact that they knew this. Sam was a difficult opponent to deal with, considering his set of powers and everything, and Jet only managed to dodge his attempt of getting her under narrowly. 

“Fuck your teleportations,” she grunted in response to his words. As useful as their powers could be, this was one of the times that Jet wished that they didn’t have to fight with their powers. It didn’t feel as good, — nowhere near as satisfying — with those limitations, but she had pride, and above wanting satisfaction, she didn’t want to lose. 

Not to Sam, at least.

But she wasn’t going to admit defeat and ask him to shut off that annoying power of his just because they couldn’t predict which side he was coming from just yet. Ignoring the cameras watching them, Jet rolled their eyes and whined out, “Come on, Sam, it’s supposed to be physical training. Stop hiding and show your ass up. It’s time to train — for real.”

[samson-nemo]

Sam hears the words between one space and the next, pauses a moment in the ether before blipping back in in front of her, lips already pursing. 

“Physical.” He grumbles in annoyance at the concept more than Jet, ready to pull back and dodge if they swung. Sam was never an attacker. Offense just was never his method of attack, and shifting that, changing that, was something he had no inclination to do, not something he ever had to do. “Fine.”

He shifts into a stance for physical combat, studies Jet for a thoughtful second before swinging a kick towards their lower left rib, expecting several movements in reaction to the move, and already thinking of potential counters.