#neomadrabble

[normallyxstrange]

30 Days of Writing –  April 2019 –  One Word Prompts

Day 18: “Soft”

© 2019 F.R. Southerland

feat. Neoma & Andy

2006

     Andy's hair was soft. Most redhead's had coarse hair, brittle hair. Not Andy. It was like silk when Neoma ran her fingers through it, or what she imagined silk would feel like. It spilled from her hands without a single tangle.

    It smelled sweet, like strawberries or candy.

    Andy shifted a bit, her eyes sliding closed when her head went back farther. Her slender neck stretched out and stray pieces of hair fell across her shoulder. “Feels nice.” A brief pause. “Do you have a brush?”

    “Mm-hmm. Just... straightening out some of the tangles first.” There was a strange, calming presence about Andy. Neoma wondered if she was doing it on purpose, exuding this calm because she could feel it with her empathic talents. Maybe it was her way of comforting her. After all, she was new here, having been welcomed into the coven only a few months prior.

    Or, maybe it had something to do with Andy's rehabilitation. Neoma hadn't been here and so far she only knew a smattering of details from Mara, and Mason, and even Andy herself and she understood the gist of it. Andy had done some terrible things, had been under the influence of awful dark magicks. She had come back, but it had taken such a hefty toll on the girl. Recovery wouldn't be easy.

    Neoma was in a recovery of sorts herself. She'd lived on the streets for most of her life, until two months ago when Mason has found her and brought her to the Kindheart Coven. Her empath abilities—and the need to feed off emotions, especially—had never been easy for the teenager.

    She wouldn't dismiss this calm, though. Not at all. She wanted to soak in it, let it soften the edges and make everything warm. And the same for Andy too. She picked up the brush and began to run it through her hair, smoothing it out even more.

    She didn't realize she'd been smiling, or that Andy had been watching her smile, until she heard the witch's quiet chuckle.

    The brush went still. “What's funny?”

    “Well, nothing actually.” Andy sat up a bit, bottom lip finding its way between her teeth. “You should smile more. It suits you.”

    Something cut through the soft mood, something that jarred Neoma—but not in a bad way. Her mouth went dry, her cheeks turned warm, and her smile inched upwards.

    She picked up the brush again and gestured for Andy to turn. “Maybe I will.”

    It was easy, right now, to believe they could both make it through and be happy, if only for a little while.

[trustmeimawitch]

🗣+Neoma & Casey

Send two muses, see them interact (main/default verse)accepting all muses@angus-gus-edison

     “You ever get tired of tea?” Casey made a face, staring into the cup. There was… stuff at the bottom of it. She hadn’t noticed it before when drinking, but now she could imagine those bits and leaves on her tongue. She pushed the cup back. “I couldn’t do it. Drinking it every day. I need caffeine or some shit anyway.”

     “It has caffeine.” Neoma wasn’t offended by Casey’s aversion to the drink. It was actually kind of amusing. “It’s actually a blend. With black tea and different herbs.”

     “And it tastes like dirt. Pass. I want a Red Bull or a Pepsi or something.”

      “It doesn’t taste like dirt. It’s… earthy.”

      “Again: dirt.” Casey rolled her eyes.

     Neoma tried to ignore the frustration she felt emanating from the young woman and instead took a sip from her cup. There was a taste at the back of her throat, something heavier than before. Now that Casey had mentioned it, there was definitely a certain flavor to the tea she hadn’t noticed before. She frowned slightly and put her cup aside. 

      Casey didn’t seem to notice the change in Neoma’s expression, her attention on the cookies she’d snagged from the plate centered on the table. She liked the girls from the magic shop and appreciated the hospitality, she really did. It beat sitting outside in the cold rain while she waited for Vinnie, but the refreshments… They really sucked.

     There was no sense in them both having being sullen, Neoma thought. After another minute, she stood. “I’ll grab some Twix from Andy’s candy stash,” she said. “And some Dr. Pepper’s from the fridge to wash out the dirt taste.”

     Casey’s lips quirked up in a smirk. That seemed more like it. “Cool.”

[normallyxstrange]

“I thought you had forgotten” drabble (original fiction) feat. Jamie & Neoma #fictober18

#Fictober18 prompt

Day 15:  “I thought you had forgotten.”

featuring Jamie & Neoma

drugs // ; alcohol mention //

    Neoma tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and hunched her shoulders to ward against the chill. It was easy to blame her shivers on the air, rather than the uncertainty that otherwise plagued her. Her footfalls came to a stop when she reached the building, hesitating momentarily before taking the steps to enter the lobby. Warmth flooded her and she exhaled, again hesitating at the elevators closed doors.

    A year ago, she made a promise. One might argue that a promise was nothing—a little thing, something you say to appease and cajole to get what you want, or find some peace of mind, some sort of certainty. To Neoma, a promise meant far more and she would not go back on one. Especially not this one.

    A year ago, Jamie came to her. He'd been drinking, and under the influence of something else—heroin, she suspected. Certainly, she had witnessed him in a far worse state, some eight years prior. To see him falling so hard after so much work to keep clean, was just as hurtful as the reason why he'd fallen.

    The memory wouldn't leave her mind and for twelve months, it loomed there.

    Jamie, on the couch, blond hair a mess. His shoulders were hunched forward, eyes unfocused as he stared straight ahead. “I don't—I don't want to feel it any more. Please.”

    “Jamie...” His pain came off him in waves, crashing against the shore of her heart. Blocking could only dampen so much, not when he projected them so strongly.

    “Take it away.” He looked over at her, his eyes red-rimmed, face stricken. “Can't you? I know you can.”

    They had been over this before. She couldn't keep using her empathy, her powers, to take away every hurt. But this one was a big one, wasn't it? The anniversary of his sister's death. She opened her mouth, but the protest never came.

    “Please, just make it stop.” The whine in his voice was heartbreaking.

     She reached out, smoothed back tendrils of hair from his face. “Shh, shh. Don't talk. I'll help. Okay? Just don't talk.”

    He leaned in to her touch as her fingertips caressed his scalp. He nodded minutely against her hand.

    It wouldn't help, not in the long run. It was only a temporary solution, a momentary easement of his sorrow. The pain would eventually come back. “It won't last,” she told him. “You know that, right? It's only a crutch; not a solution.”

    Jamie nodded again. “I know, I know,” he murmured. “Just for now. It's too much.” Something she said must've struck hard because he met her stare. “It's always too much. Next time—you have to promise next time. You have to make it go away.”

    The words were heavy, like a smothering blanket enveloping over her. She couldn't be the quick fix he wanted, to keep doing this. She'd have to help him again, like she'd done before, put herself into it with more than just the use of her powers. To make this promise would be a big burden.

    But Neoma made it, whispering the words “I promise” with a nod of her own.

    She’d meant it then.

    And she meant it now.

    Taking another deep breath, she knocked on his apartment door. When Jamie answered, his eyes were clear. He was sober, thank the gods. Would he remember what happened a year ago, or had he been too intoxicated to retain the memory?

    Neoma gave a tentative smile. “Hey.”

    “Hey.” He stepped back, holding the door open for her to enter. A pause followed before he spoke, quietly. “I thought you had forgotten.”

    Her smile grew a little. “I don't forget promises. Come on.” She offered her hand to him. “We have some work to do.”

© 2018 F.R. Southerland, @normallyxstrange​ / @frsoutherlandauthor​

[normallyxstrange]

“Take what you need” drabble (original fiction) feat. Neoma & Andy #fictober18

#Fictober18 prompt

Day 5: “Take what you need.”

featuring Neoma & Andy

    “You feeling alright?”

    “What?” Neoma looked up from her book, pushing loose pieces of hair from her face. How long had Andy been watching her? She hadn't even been aware of it.

    The redhead must've been watching her for some time. She had that look on her face—pensive, worried. “Are you feeling alright?”

    That was always such a loaded question. Neoma was certain she'd never felt truly “alright”, in her entire life, but she always felt something. That was the nature of being an empath, after all—or whatever it is she was.

    “I'm fine,” she said, the lie coming so easily, as it always did.

    Andy, of course, could see right through it. She always had been able to take one look at Neoma and just know. That was precisely how she looked at her now, with her long red hair spilling across her shoulder, blue eyes affixed on her--stern but concerned.

    Better to quell the argument before it began. “Andy, I am. Really. Just tired.”

    “Mm. I know 'just tired' for you doesn't mean just tired.” She unfolded her long legs, closing the spell book she'd been looking through, and put all of her focus on the brunette. “You're tired tired. Hunger tired.”

    Neoma grimaced slightly.

    “I called it, didn't I?”

    “Yes, but--”

    Andy's triumph at being right lasted only a few seconds. “But nothing. When was the last time you fed? A week? More?”

    It had been a while. She didn't try to really count the hours, or the days. She honestly didn't like thinking about it at all, but it was a fact she couldn't help. She'd need to feed sooner, rather than later. There was no putting it off.

    She closed her eyes and ducked her head. Full lips parted in a soft sigh. “It's been a week, at least.”

    “Neo, I told you—you can't do this to yourself.”

    Concern left Andy in waves, cresting and falling hard. Neoma could hardly block out such strong feelings in her weakened state, and the charmed amulet she wore could only block so much. Andy's emotions had always been strong, fierce.

    Right now, it was too much.

    “Don't lecture me. Please. Not now.”

    “Okay, I won't—but you know what you have to do.”

    She did, but that didn't mean she wanted to. It was easy for Andy to say that. She didn't know what it was like, not really.

    “Yeah, I know.”

    Andy smiled softly. Her hand was warm when she put it on Neoma's arm. She leaned into the touch. She hadn't realized how starved she was for the contact. For a moment, they were teenagers again, in Andy's bed, comforting one another with soft words and softer touches. Years later, their friendship had only strengthened.

     She was grateful for her in so many ways.

    Andy's smile grew and she stretched out both of her hands for Neoma's. “Come on; I'm full of energy. Take what you need.”

    For a moment, Neoma was hesitant. It wasn't the first time they'd shared energy, but there was always the risk she feared, always the fact something would go wrong. She'd take too much. She'd hurt her. But Andy was strong—stronger than she let on. And she could handle anything. It was one of the reasons Neoma loved her so much.

    She let out a breath and mustered a smile of her own before she took her friend's hands.

    “Okay.”

© 2018 F.R. Southerland, @normallyxstrange​ / @frsoutherlandauthor​

[trustmeimawitch]

👶🏿 & Neoma!

SEND ME A “👶🏿“ FOR A CHILDHOOD MEMORY FROM MY MUSE.

Neoma had often wondered about her parents. She’d never met them, had no memories of them, and she had no knowledge as to whether or not they were dead or alive. Her only sure information was that she had been abandoned at a young age and because of that, she became a product of the foster care system.

The mom smiled a lot but her eyes were sad. The dad wasn’t always around because he worked. Neoma suspected that had something to do with the mom’s sadness. 

Whenever the dad entered the house, the air in the place shifted. It became heavy and stifling. Sometimes, Neoma felt as if she couldn’t breathe, that everything was threatening to crush her. She always felt so sad in this home. Sad and angry.

And try as she might, she tried to be good. But she lashed out. She yelled. She cried. They saw it all. And when questioned, she had no answer for what was wrong. She didn’t know. She only felt.

With her back against the wall, the pre-teen drew her bony legs to her chest. It was no use. They had seen her at her worst and they didn’t want her. No one wanted her. Her own parents hadn’t wanted her.

Sniffling, she closed her eyes tightly and hugged her knees as she desperately tried to shut out the sound of their arguing down the hall.