Mutation - Paint manipulation; fingertips and hands are permanently stained with various pigments as that's where they can make paint from. Not needing a binding agent, it looks akin to how Wanda's fingers are discolored in Multiverse of Madness but more colorful. Is also able to make blob-like creatures from said paint. Can easily clean up any paint messes they create but wears gloves to err on the side of caution.
[if you saw this on TikTok, and the username you found it under is llama_the_bard, tis I. just different platforms]
A semi edited piece of something. not part of a grand wip novel, I just like these characters ahaha
Prompt: “How are you all so cruel to each other?”
“You are such a single child. Listen, we say these things and smack each other with the knowledge that if something is truly bothering someone, they will tell us.”
Prompt by @givethispromptatry!
———————————
Dacre examines as Tabitha fishes her phone from her purse and presses her lips together when she sees the caller-ID. He leans over her shoulder and tries to catch the name, but she drops it back in her purse and lets it ring out. With exasperation in his breath, he straightens his posture so that his now damp shoulder is back under the umbrella he holds. Tabitha keeps her eyes on the library as they wait at the crosswalk.
“Sooooo who are you ignoring?”
Her phone buzzes again, and she picks up her phone and nervously chews her lip. She plays a new voicemail, leaning away from Dacre as he tries to listen.
「Tabitha, I can’t believe you just did that! We came to visit our favorite little sister for a while and you just ignore me? Ohhh well, I was tryna be nice and ask you for directions for your place, but I’ll find it myself. Oh, and who’s that with you? He’s cute! Are you on a date right now?!」
“Vivienne!” Tabitha powers off her phone and clutches her arms tightly to her chest and resists the urge to gnaw off her recently painted nails.
“Your…sister?” there was an innocent perplex in his tone.
“H-How much of that did you hear?”
“All of it?“
Tabitha dashes into the library as soon as the silhouette pedestrian appears, hoping against hope Dacre wouldn’t chase her. Technically, since they were still on the clock…she sighs, wondering how she kept her job as long as she had. Dacre says nothing when he reaches her. Oftentimes, she puzzles him—her reactions and mannerisms leave him yearning to unravel her mind. Aware of the calculating plum irises boring into her, Tabitha clears her throat and approaches the empty information desk. A kid pops up from behind it, enthusiastically waving at them. Like a fish out of water, Tabitha seizes up, struggling to get a word past her lips. Dacre snaps in front of her face, but she refuses to budge. He turns to the boy for inspection—sea green eyes and a tawny complexion…
Firmly placing his hands on the desk, the kid leans forward, “Aw, don’t be be like that, ‘onee-san’!”
Chuckles echo from the behind the desk, and two individuals with striking white-to-smalt gradient hair, their grins widening from ear to ear. Dacre wonders what their eyes looks like.
“Tabs!” the man with his hair loosely tied back chirps, resting his head in his hands, “Tabs, our dear sister, we missed you so much!”
“Miss you and all that…but I can’t forgive you for purposely ignoring us!” An inkling tells Dacre that this one is “Vivienne”.
Tabitha discovers the ability to function again, her quivers hardly noticeable, “I-I thought you…you were going to find where I live, not…”
“Ahem,” as her employer and partner, Dacre figured he had some leeway to interfere. The chance is stolen right from him, though.
“Oh, right, you. The name’s Raymond,” Raymond offers his hand to him. “Nice to ‘meet’ you.”
“Vivienne, here. And this lil’ baby is Nico. Ain’t he cute?”
Nico beams, pointing to his dimples, “‘Course I am! We came to abduct Tabs though, so…”
Tabitha chews hard on her lip, “I’m still working, so, that’s—“
“We can call it a day. It’s not a priority commission anyway.”
She nods and fiddles with one of her chocolate dreads, still aswoon from her siblings sudden appearance act, and the expectant stares she gained were crippling. Although the desire to pry comes to mind, Dacre holds his tongue and offers a farewell. Vivienne clicks her tongue, folds her arms and invites him for their impromptu reunion dinner. Tabitha avoids giving any gestures that tells him he couldn’t join them…he liked to think he could read her well. He dispels a tinge of guilt and accepts.
•••
Would nothing let Tabitha loosen up her defenses even a little? The only person who successfully held conversations with her was Nico, yet she acted like she needed to keep up appearances. Perhaps his presence overwhelms her—perhaps she caught on how often Dacre observed her throughout dinner as her “Raydiennt” siblings had. As dessert arrives at their table, Dacre recalls the slights aimed at her…no, he wouldn’t go there. Absentmindedly digging into his slice of pie, the zingy key lime flavor helps him round up his wayward thoughts as it melts on his tongue.
“Hey, Tabs—” Raymond swills another bite of affogato, “—Pop’s been wondering about those roommates of yours. From what I gather, they’re both…interesting.”
“Mm?!” Tabitha chokes on her water, earning pats on her back from Nico. “Have you been here all day?! Please tell me you weren’t listening to me all day.”
“Mmmore or less.”
What were they getting from abashing her like this? Were they always so…cruel to her? To each other? A family can never be perfect, but… Vivienne crosses her arms, her head tilts back as she glowers accusatorially at Dacre.
“I’m sorry, aren’t you—” a titter wedges in her throat, “—you don’t seem to have too many problems crossing her boundaries.”
“I wasn’t…” he pauses, sucking in a small breath as he recollects his words—Tabitha’s sea-green irises glue themselves onto her cup. “Sorry. I’ve just had this sort of idea.…”
“You. You’re a single child, aren’t you?”
“Cut it out already, Vivi!” Tabitha’s marbled hands wander aimlessly in her lap. “I-I’d like to keep my job a bit longer.”
The elder sister practically mounts the table, her finger inches away from stabbing his forehead, “Ohho no, this guy has some serious nerve, and I don’t give one wit if he’s your boss or not.”
Raymond pulls his other half back into her seat, lightly rubbing circles on the back of her clenched fist. He feels Vivienne mellow out, but doesn’t let up the therapy. “We do things, say things, to each other, but—“
“Most people don’t stalk their siblings.”
Nico takes a long swig of his pop as Ray gives him a look. “But when it comes down to it, if something truly bothers someone, they’ll say something. Right Tabs?”
“I mean, yeah, er, yes.”
Dacre nods, pushing his ideals down for the time being, since reevaluation whilst in company seems…improper. The table’s waiter sets that little booklet on the table, and Vivienne stashes her card inside it.
“Being on the younger side of this family isn’t easy—unless you’re Nico.” she says, laughing when he responds with finger guns. “The three of us grew up together. Not to say we’re not close with our other siblings…eh, you wouldn’t understand.”
“I…I did not realize you had more siblings.” he didn’t, and he was curious, but he backed himself into a dark enough corner with these twins….
The Raydiennts share smirks, throwing Dacre off. Tabitha sighs exasperatedly.
Once the waiter returns with Vivi’s card, the siblings exit like a whirlwind, leaving Dacre in a frazzled state. Left to wonder if the prospect of his sister is unnatural.
There are 37 cracks in this pot. 13 of them branch. 2 of them show the outside world in slivers. 16 of them go left-right-left, and 4 of them go right-left-right.
She never has, from the moment she was a kit to now.
There are precisely 4 fingerprints in the clay of this pot. One is a pointer finger, the others are all thumbs. Two thumbs match, but the third thumb is different. The pointer finger too, is different.
Something about the loneliness of it burns.
This pot is at its fattest halfway up. The top half is slightly narrower. The lid is round.
She can’t explain it, not really.
This pot hasn’t been through a kiln. The clay is dry and white.
It’s like how an arachnophobe can’t explain their fear of spiders, it just is.
The pot is exactly one foot by one foot three inches and half a centimetre. The lid is slightly lopsided.
The first time she was really, truly alone, she had been three years old.
It was a lie, earlier. There’s five fingerprints. One is inside one of the cracks. It, too, is different from the other fingerprints.
The experience left her sick and trembling, and it wasn’t one she felt obliged to repeat.
This pot has the date carved in the bottom. The numbers read, from left to right, 1901. From right to left, they read 1091. If they’re read from the other side, right to left, they read 1061. Left to right, they read 1601. She can’t remember which is correct anymore.
Despite that, she’s been alone for.
She’s been alone for.
For.
The 6, or maybe the 9, is carved deeper than the rest. The first, or maybe the last 1 is carved the lightest. The 0 is wobbly. The zero is wobbly.
Tabitha; I will not standby and watch those two continue to be the reason all my friends die. I can’t.
Scott; but Charles needs us. The world needs us. Without the X-Men, who will be there to protect mutants?
Tabitha; pft, Charles can't even protect the world or himself from his own brain. Hell, Emma has to be in her diamond form just for him to get the hint.
Scott; you're avoiding the question, Tabitha
Tabitha; I don't know! Happy? I don't know, but this isn't it. All we've done is cause unrelentless chaos. We've just made it worse.
Scott; that's not true
Tabitha; look, I’m not gonna sit here and argue with you, Scott. Only because I know you mean well. But I am leaving. If I have to live a shortened life due to being a mutant then I should at least live it to the fullest. And I can’t do that here.
