Little Dreamer

Sasha Cohen / 16 Years Old / S Gene Carrier: Mind Push / St Mary's Project “One must believe in the possibility of happiness in order to be happy” - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

[sam-spencer]

Her voice shakes his determination and almost tears it down to the ground. It’s a quiver he refuses to show as he is once taught. He clenches his jaw and turns away, afraid of facing her that would get in the way of what he needs to do. She is one of the last humane parts left in him. He can’t afford to have that moment right now. “…I’m gonna go get dad.” He answers quietly. It surprises himself how calm he can be on the outside like this. “I remember. Everything. And I can’t let that happen again.” He can’t get the memory of his own deeds, the images of the horrific things he did. How far can you go for the ones you love? What he did in the future gives the answer– he can be as cruel and coldhearted as the man he detests the most. “I’m going to kill Cox… before he kills dad.”

[sasha-cohen]

When he speaks, confirms what she had feared to be true, she’s stood in stunned silence for a few seconds. Almost all at once, she can see the turmoil of the future flittering into being before her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head. Refusing to accept what he was saying, refusing to admit the plan he had in his mind. No. She couldn’t let that happen again, no matter the consequences. She didn’t care what she had to do to make him pause and see sense. “Sam... Sam. You can’t do this. You can’t.” Her voice is filled with desperation as she rushes closer to him, places a hand on his arm. Her other hand reaches up, tentatively, resting on his cheek in order to urge him to look into her eyes. Eyes that were wide with panic, filled to the brim with fear. “We can thank of a better way, Sam. Death brings nothing but pain and misery. Killing your grandfather won’t help matters - if you remember the future, you must know that.” She bites her lip, trying to think through the blaze of her emotions. “We can find your dad. Together. Get him some place safe, before Cox can get to him. No killing needs to be involved.” She breathes out a shaky sigh, feeling tears brim which she refuses to let slip. “Please, please, just don’t go. I... I love you, Sam Spencer. So, please don’t go. Don’t make me stop you.”

[sam-spencer]

Sam hesitates before picking up a pistol. Gun is not really his best feature, but… he will need everything. Every part of his brain agrees that this is insane.  He is basically walking into his own grave. But it’s something he has to do. The bad blood runs in his family, he needs to end it. Or like it did in the future, his father will pay for his weakness. Biting his lips, Sam grabs the gun, checks the safety and packs it on his waist.

[sasha-cohen]

“Sammy!” Sasha’s voice is merry as she bursts through the doorway, a smile on her face which dies quickly at the sight of the gun he slips besides his trousers. For a moment, eyes widen in shock, before they trail upwards to his scan his face, but worry and curiosity intertwined in her expression. “Sam?” The word comes out quietly, both a question and a plea. For in his face, in the determination of his features, she sees something of the Sam of the future. The fate which did not end well. She’s soon to shut the door behind her, taking hurried steps towards him with a crease of anxiety between her eyebrows. “What... what are you doing?” Surely, this was all some mistake. Simply a joke on his part, and she was jumping to conclusions. That was what it had to be, even if the logic of her brain refused to believe what her heart longed to be true.

[sasha-cohen]

“Hey, Riah?”

[zachariah-zimmerman]

A heavy sigh left his lips as he stared down at the photos of the women who used to be an integral part of his life. A part of him felt as if he needed to reach out to them, as he had owed them because they each made him into the person he was now. Looking up from the photos as Sasha enters, he raises a brow and jumps to the worst. “You’re marrying that Sam kid?” Oh wait, weren’t they already married? … Had Zachariah really found a way to erase the horrifying memories from his head (because Sasha marrying someone is horrifying to him)? “No. You’ve decided that Charles is your favorite? Sasha! You’re my little one!” Furrowing his brows together, he crosses his arms at his chest. “So what is it?” 

[sasha-cohen]

She couldn't help the curious glance down at his work, the slight raise of her eyebrows and the same old mischievous grin upon her face. "Reminiscing, are we?" She remarks, though she's soon laughing at the look of horror upon his face. Shaking her head, she sighs dramatically, feigning an expression of exasperation. "Really, Riah? Please tell me you do remember walking me down the aisle. Or are you still in denial about that? Or have you been drinking?" She teases him, playfully poking him on the shoulder as if to emphasise her point. Quickly, she chuckles again at his next response, rolling her eyes at him. "Riah! You know I don't have favourites. That'd just be cruel... Okay, I may have said Charles was my favourite once, but that was just to bribe him into helping me escape one of your training sessions... And also that time I tried to persuade him into building me a robot horse... But I love you both equally!" She grins up at him, her tone joking as always. At the frown on his face, her smile becomes a bit more gentle. She takes a small step forward, tilting her head to the side, as she rests a hand on one of his crossed arms. "Well... Before I tell you, you have to promise me you won't kill Sam, under any circumstances!"

[sasha-cohen]

“Hey, Riah?”

Sasha murmured, peaking around the door frame to look at the man she knew so well, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear as she moved inside. She may not be as small as she used to be, but she still couldn’t help but think of Riah as the towering brother bear he’d always been to her for so long. Because of that, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the nervous way her hands clasped together, the shuffling of her feet. “Do you have a minute? I’ve got something... well, something pretty big to tell you.”

[sam-spencer]

Spencer-Cohens Walter - Time Manipulation Melody - Animation Juliet - Danger Intuition Noah - Precognition

M: WHO ATE MY ICE CREAM?! J: Oh god, here we go again. N: Don’t look at me. M: Ugh… WALTER! W: Oi, it’s not me! M: …….MOM, WALTER SNEAKED OUT OF HOUSE LAST NIGHT AGAIN! W: What the— NOBODY LIKE A TATTLETALE! M: NOBODY LIKE YOUR STUPID FACE! J: …let’s go play in the study, Noah. I’ll read you books. N: But it’s getting interesting! J: Shh, you’re gonna catch stupid if you play with them.  N: But I ate the ice cream. J: …Just don’t let them know that.

[sam-spencer]

"Really? How come? What… what do you know about me? My family is sooooooo fucked up. I’m… I’m a fuck-up. Did you know that?” He asks with the ‘I’m drunk’ smile on his face. Sam always has a tight grasp on himself, more than the most. He is conditioned that way, adopted that way to survive. He can’t remember the last time he felt this free. He  ”Welp, works for me!” He pours himself another glass rather cheerfully, and sips it again. “Yup, all the time. Been months.” Turning his head to her, Sam purses his lips, trying to recall. “You? You’re crying, mostly. Or mad at me. I’m an asshole, in the dreams. And I… kill people.” Sometimes the faces overlap. Someone he doesn’t know, someone he knows, someone he hates. He kills them in the dreams, repeatedly. And he doesn’t even feel guilty anymore. The worst part is, though, where he sees his dad’s face on the body. “I want to sleep.” He sighs, hanging his head back. The room has been spinning and he can’t feel his feet on the room. Feeling the weight of her head on his shoulder, Sam laughs lightly. “But I don’t want to sleep because, when I sleep I get dreams. Hence the, alcohol! Hopefully I can sleep tonight.” 

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! Don't say that about yourself, Sam. Every family around here is fucked up, but that doesn't mean you are. You're not fucked up. (She says firmly, nodding her head as if to convince him further. Biting her lip, she watches him sadly, her eyes narrowing on the bottle. Part of her wanted to grab it and run, it was clearly not helping his state of mind, but she didn't want to annoy hima nd pester him. Instead, she just looks down at her hands, breathing out a soft sigh until he speaks again. Her eyes widen as he describes the dreams, but she makes an attempt to hide her startled expression, turning her head to one side quickly.) Look, Sammy, they're just dreams. Only dreams. Doesn't mean any of those things are ever going to happen, alright? They're nightmares. We all get them. (She turns back to him, hoping she'd managed to make her face blank, praying she wouldn't let anything show. The Sam of the future had chosen to forget New Orleans, had chosen to forget what he'd do... she had to respect that, right? Though, it pained her to watch him like this. Tentatively, she runs her thumb over his hand she had hold of.) You can sleep, if you like. I'll be here, nothing bad can happen when I'm here. Promise. (She shakes her head.) Maybe enough alcohol for tonight, right? Save it for later, or something.

[sam-spencer]

Sam leans back hanging his head back. Of course, Sasha is here to see him drinking his ass off. He laughs to himself, somewhere in between shame and ‘I can’t give a damn right now’. “What can I say? I—I have a lot of side you don’t know.” He replies lacking his usual kind tone, voice more hoarse and deeper than usual. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling without an answer. Only when she takes his glass away, he gets up in protest— or at least tries to. He falls back on the couch. “Hey— give me that.” He takes it back and finishes it off. He has no idea what that is. Can’t read the label anyway. “It does smell gross.” He admits, swallowing the burn on his throat. But it’s better than not able to sleep. At least he’d be able to sleep tonight. Hopefully without those dreams… “You’re in my heads.” He mutters under the breath, almost dropping the glass on the table. “You come out in my dreams. C-can you stop doing that? It’s really… really disturbing.”

[sasha-cohen]

You'd be surprised about how many sides I've seen, Sammy. (She smiles a little sadly, then shrugs her comment off as she sits down next to him, propping her feet up beside her. There's concern in her eyes when she watches him, and she bites her lip, evidently worried.) Yep. Smells like something out of a bleach bottle. Must be strong. (Though that didn't need to be said, seeing as Sam seemed to be pretty wasted already. She distracts herself by looking around the room, until her attention quickly flickers back to him at his next remark.) What? I- you dream about me? What happens in the dream? (She questions, suddenly curious that he may be having flashbacks, perhaps, of the days in New Orleans. However, at his final sentence she can't help but feel a little guilty, even if she couldn't control her presence in his dreams. Slowly, she shuffles position, tilting her body so her head rests against his shoulder and, tentatively, she reaches out to his hand that just put the glass down, placing her own on top of it.) Sorry, Sammy. I'll try not to be in them anymore.

[sam-spencer]

Something is seriously wrong with him. Sam couldn’t turn off his sense. His eyes catch things he doesn’t want to know. His ears hear things he doesn’t need to hear. His muscles twitch to dangers that are not there. It makes him extremely paranoid, like he was chased by something all the time. So he tried an extreme solution— alcohol. He bought a bottle from some older Project, and chugged the nasty liquor until he felt numb and dizzy. Then he notices that someone is in his room. Did I left the door open? At this point, he doesn’t bother to hide the bottle. “What? I can drink. I’m legal to drink, or whatever…” 

[sasha-cohen]

Sam Spencer! (Sasha grins mischievously, leaning on the door frame as she watches him drink, a dramatically shocked expression on her face.) This is a surprise, indeed. I never saw you as the heavy drinking type. (Her smile fades a little as she walks into the room, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she sits down on the sofa beside Sam, raising an eyebrow at him.) You okay, Sammy? You're not... drowning your sorrows or anything, right? 'Cause, y'know, I'm always here to talk if you need to talk. And I'm probably better for your liver than that stuff. What is that anyway? (She takes the glass from his hand, gives the content a sniff, and after wrinkling her nose in disgust hands it back over to him.) Smells gross.

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! You!

[sam-spencer]

[Sam gets even more redder when she takes him by the hands. He barely keeps up with her, trying his best not to stumble on his own feet and fall down.] Uh, no. I don’t t-think it’s a fever. [He shakes his head quickly when she looks concerned.] Y-you look, uh, you look nice. [He murmurs a comment, scratching his nose with the thumb.]

[sasha-cohen]

(Sasha places the back of her hand to his forehead, as if testing for a temperature with a worried frown. But, when she feels nothing out of the ordinary, she shrugs her shoulders.) If you say so. Still. We could go outside, if you like? Get away from the noise, and all. (She smiles brightly at the compliment, chuckling quietly as she folds her hands behind her back.) Thank you, Sammy. (The smile widens for a second, but then she nods in his direction.) But, look at you! You look handsome in a suit. (She leans forward to straighten his tie slightly, grinning up at him as she does so.) See? Perfect. Like a proper gentleman. 

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! You!

[sam-spencer]

[He could swear to god every time one of these Balls happens, Sasha’s choice of dress is getting more… Sam doesn’t even know how to explain it. But it definitely makes him blush, worse than ever.] Uh……. [Sam kind of looks away, pretending like he’s suddenly interested in the chandelier. Talking to that guy kind of made him self-conscious around Sasha, more than usual.]

[sasha-cohen]

Sammy! (She grins as she sees him, rushing towards him to take a hold of his hands and spin around with him. Laughing as she does so, she gradually slows to a stop and smiles brightly up at him. Though when she actually registers the expression on his face, a look of concern appears.) Wait. Sammy, are you okay? You're going a bit red. You haven't got a fever, have you?

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! You!

[charlie-crowe-blog]

As Charles cut through the sea of dancing people in hopes to catch Anna, he caught Sasha instead and eyes widened as soon as they landed on her. “Sasha?!” He exclaimed with a twitch. Zachariah didn’t exaggerate after all. Wasting no time, Charles was quick to peel off his coat and throw it over the young blonde. “Where do you buy these type of clothes? ‘Give Zach and Charles a Heart Attack’ store?! – Quit staring or I’ll personally remove your eyeballs with a spoon!” He snapped at a male classmate as he wrapped his coat around Sasha.

[sasha-cohen]

Charlie?! (She replies, purposefully using the same tone of voice as him whilst she grins. She's about to hug him, until she has a coat thrown onto her and she looks up at him with a frown. Rolling her eyes, she chuckles.) Well, I better not show you what I intend to wear at the next ball then. I was thinking of just wearing a bikini and a hula skirt. Wouldn't mind, would you? (She chuckles, shaking her head at his outburst.) I swear, you two are as bad as each other. It's like you're becoming mentally in sync, or something. Next thing we know you'll be picking bugs from each other's hair like apes and competing in synchronised swimming events together with matching pink costumes. (She giggles at the thought, but is soon distracted by the coat being forced onto her. As soon as she has the chance to wriggle from his grip though, she wraps her arms around him in a hug, leaning onto her toes as she always did to place her chin on his shoulder.) I missed you, Charlie. Project Play is stupid. I'm just glad you're okay. (She says her last sentence a bit more softly, biting her lip.)

[lina-lynn]

[zachariah-zimmerman]

Zachariah Zimmerman and Sasha Cohen

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! You!

[zachariah-zimmerman]

"… Grrr…" Growling to himself as his eyes move over Sasha, he let out an exasperated sigh and moved towards her. Holding his hands up in the air, he waves them around as if he were dancing (Because seriously? Who club dances at a ball? Zachariah didn’t even know how to dance… at.. some club. Why was she grinding her hips?) and stops before looking over her. “You do know, Sasha, that by looking beautiful you make people stare at you which makes my job difficult because I cannot assassinate them in front of Orion?” Immediately as he finished his words, he frowned at some boy who was staring at Sasha’s… plunging neckline. “I’d suggest if you want to keep your head on your body that you stop staring otherwise I’ll hurt you.” Growling at the boy, he scowled and watched with glee as the wide eyed boy ran away. “Pfft. Boys. I need to lock them in cages.”

[sasha-cohen]

Riah! (Sasha laughs at Riah's attempt of a dance move, instead reaching up to catch one of the hands he was waving and twirling around under his arm. When he stops dancing though, she gently takes his other hand too, swinging their arms from side to side between them dramatically and grinning at him.) No one's staring at me, you're paranoid. But I'll ignore that violence and listen to the compliment. Thank you. (She says with a broad smile up at him, crinkling her nose. However, she soon has to sigh when Riah gets distracted by the boy. Going back to swinging his arms to regain his attention, she tilts her head to one side.) That'd mean you'd have to lock yourself in a cage. And Charlie. And Sammy. You're Sasha's Angels, what would I do with all of you in a cage?! (She teases, chuckling to herself as she does so.) Hey, Riah. You know how much you love me? Loads, right? 'Cause I love you loads. More than loads! More than goats love grass! More than fairies love their wings! (She says, leaning towards him with her puppy dog eyes.) Just, thought I'd remind you. In case you were thinking about, maybe, letting me have a glass of champagne. Since I am practically eighteen. In, um... a few hundred days, or something. Practically nothing!

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! You!

[elizabeth-oneil-blog]

Me? [Quickly glancing around, Elizabeth makes sure that she is the one being pointed at, before taking a few unsure steps towards the other.] Shake it, really? [She giggles out, slowly coming closer to the other. Dancing sure seemed like fun, and the other girl wasn’t doing the fancy ball moves like the other projects, so why not? Letting out a laugh, she copies the girl’s moves, swaying and bopping along, not caring if other projects were staring at their dancing.] Hey, hey, why didn’t the skeleton dance at the ball?

[sasha-cohen]

Yep, you! (Sasha calls back in response, her grin only widening as the other girl began bopping. She laughs loudly, despite several disapproving stares in their direction and a few mutterings of the grumpy legacies. She didn't really care. It was just good to finally meet someone who knew how to have fun, outside of the boring ball dancing sense.) I have no idea. Do tell! (She says with a giggle in reply to her joke, before twirling again.) I feel like I should ask my dancing partner her name. Would be rude not to, right? I'm Sasha, by the way, and I like your moves.

[sasha-cohen]

Hey! You!

(Sasha calls out to a person in the crowd, pointing in their direction with a wide grin.) Yes, you! Dancing, right now. Shake it! (She yells, laughing, as she sways and twirls herself around, dancing as if she was at a club rather than a prestigious ball.)

[yynneessmons]

[sasha-cohen]

Sasa Cohen + Project Play Ball Outfit

[sasha-cohen]

I made a pie but you weren't around, so I just left it on your door. Hope you like pumpkin. --Sam