into the rabbit hole • prgrneplt003
the loud vibrato of her phone startled isla from her much needed nap and with a quick glance at its contents made the girl into a flurry of movements.
dreamboat striker says, 911!! we don’t have much time, hugo is in the hospital and the coven has to meet like now forward to jett, blaine, poppy, rai, and dawn. we are going to meet at the ravine in an hour.
[ message — forest: 911!! we don’t have much time, hugo is in the hospital and the coven has to meet like now forward to jett, blaine, poppy, rai, and dawn. we are going to meet at the ravine in an hour. ] FWD to grumpy cat 🌚, tim drake, pirena, ☕☕☕, and golden retriever.
isla was dressed in thick clothes, out of the house, and in her jeep in less than five minutes — it was like she was forced back to rely on childhood conditioning; just seeing the words hospital and meet and hour it was like she was eight again and grabbing an overnight pack to stay over at the chosen babysitters’ house because her parents were too busy with work yet still hovering with worry about their daughters. speaking of—
iyabella says, meeting up w/ blaine for matheletes prep. be back before curfew. love you, mama!
magic. disease. traiteur.
the old lady was right — she thought it was a mere coincidence, an instance of the baader-meinhof phenomenon. it began with an offhanded comment she heard in corner coffee, about calling in faith healers to help with the nigh incurable virus. then she thought it during that conversation with jett in the waiting room. then aaron mentioned it during the editorial meeting for this week’s issue of the falcon. and now.
it was basically confirmation of that old crone’s words: “ah, you will be a mighty traiteuse, mon cher. your coven though, de’pouille, the lot of you.”
it’s another expectation of her. another weight added onto her shoulders. it wasn’t enough that she was tasked to be the next doctor in the family, as mia chose law and pia chose engineering. it wasn’t enough that she had to go to yale or it’s equivalent to please her mother. it wasn’t enough—
goddammit! nothing is ever enough! nothing is ever fucking enough for goddamn fucking iya margarita! senior year, honours classes, ivy league applications, and now the well being of an entire fucking town— diosmio, i just want to fucking graduate high school in peace, why the fuck am i even here?
the secrets were coming out of the woodwork and isla couldn’t even bother to care. she shut down — she doesn’t want to know that the best friend she could ever have is an arsonist or that the boy she had a crush on since forever was emotionally and psychologically abused as a child. she doesn’t want to know the man that taught her how to use a shotgun was a pedophile, even if that does explain why her mother is extremely uncomfortable in visiting the edwards house nowadays. she doesn’t want to know about jett basically confirming that he’s a juvenile delinquent and that rai is whatever— she just doesn’t want to know, okay!
“i just don’t want to know, okay!” she suddenly burst out. “i don’t want to know about your secrets and your faults and what the fucking hell you get into your spare time— i just want to finish high school without any entanglements and get into harvard. is that too much to ask!?”
all eyes were staring at her; varying emotions danced amongst them. she had her hands entangled in her hair and was pacing over her chosen four feet of dirt. she was at war within herself, keep in denial or go with the flow.
“we’re the coven right, we gotta stick together.”
and as she heard that statement, she laughed. loud, derisive, and very much unlike the quiet girl they know her as — it was like a wolf howling at the moon, madness personified. she was losing her tether at reality ( denial is not just a river in egypt, darling ) and the cloying humidity thickening around them.
“this is madness.” she snidely remarked, teeth bared at the lot. she flicked her wrist and a sudden whip of corded water hit a bark of the tree, cleanly slicing off a part of it’s trunk. “but we’re all mad here, aren’t we?”
“i don’t know what you want me to say,” she trilled, a watery giggle at the edge of her words “i’m not like you lot! i’m boring— i don’t have secrets!”
someone snorted, she didn’t know who nor did she particularly care, but the cord of water that was wrapped around her arm since her earlier outburst flew towards that direction and stopped a quarter of an inch from blaine’s jugular. his eyes widened at the near miss and isla just smirked, feral and unhinged.
( there is a reason why isla was a non-entity in peregrine. why she was considered meek as a mouse and quiet as a lamb. a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a madness undisturbed — the meek do not qualify in national championships and win state finals. the meek do not get elected year after year after year. the meek—
the meek shall inherit the earth: biblically, being meek meant power within control. to dominate while being subjugated. to be like water: soft enough to slip through your fingers, but powerful enough to drown your enemies.
isla is meek, just not the kind that you think. )
“huh.” she pulled it back, the cord wrapping itself around her arm. “i guess i have better control over my magic than most of you think.”
secret. noun.
defined as something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others.
"machiavelli.” she uttered after a beat. breathe, one two. “okay, uhm, geez. secrets, what have i done that none of yous know?”
isla ran a hand through her hair, musing up the already messed up chignon her hair was in. the wedge sneakers crumpling the fallen leaves as she paced to and fro. she was wracking her brain for something — anything — to say, because she was literally an open book.
“vinko? no, sky and viv already know about that— pretest rituals? no, that was already exposed during sophomore year— blaine already made a fucking joke about it back then. uhm, freshman year?” she looked at their expressions, judging if they actually know what caused her to quit varsity swim midway spring semester.
the coven had hues of obliviousness painted on their faces and for the life of her, she couldn’t help but cackle. sharp and chilling, like the sudden winter frost that peregrine oft suffers from. the bell chimes echoing howls of thin air and maelstroms of snow — “teenagers.” she scoffed. “if there was one thing you could count on this town, it’s that teenagers would look the other way when it comes to other people suffering life changing events.”
( here’s the thing: isla was never supposed to study in peregrine high school. she was supposed to go to one of those elite boarding schools in the east coast like her older sisters, continue on her skyrocketing academic career, and head on to university without any hardships — but that didn’t happen. instead, she attended miss porter’s for a term and then transferred to peregrine due to reasons undisclosed. )
“it was february — smack dab in the middle of state championships. i did varsity swim, yeah?” there was a longing in her voice, like a distant shore calming a wave. “i specialised in medleys— sprints. i mean, i wasn’t as good as pia— she’s a whole other level— but i was good. i qualified and i clock in at 2:17.05. that’s just ten seconds slower than the current WR and five seconds faster than the 4A regs, you know? i was good.” a sigh. “i was good — but then, well, you know how jealousy strikes.”
( quick and deadly, the green eyed monster knows no bounds. children with egos unfit for their bodies and unflinching with the consequences — all they know is they need to be the best and with isla in the way, they couldn’t achieve that..)
“i just finished training with coach morrison — just an easy eight laps, because i was already on taper. then i was attacked— they were senior varsity, their last year to win state and all that. mama said to always be on alert. always. but i didn’t know any better and well, the club had always been safe.” she laughed and it sent shivers down her own spine, it was a mix deranged and disparaging. at the precipice of insanity. “they drowned me. grabbed me by the hair and the legs and shoved me into the pool. i was breathing in chlorine and pool water and they just held me down. they kept shoving and shoving and shoving, until... they stopped.”
per utterance of the word shoving, the waves in west beach grew larger and larger and larger until they crashed against the gorge. the sea was under her control, whether she knew it or not, and her emotions are overwhelming her control. madness— this is madness. ( but we’re all mad here. )
“i think i died that day,” she bit her bottom lip and for the first time in the entire night, she looked unsure. afraid. weak. “i don’t really know, because it all faded to black— the next thing i knew i was at home. i was still in my suit and i had no idea where my stuff where, but i was at home.” i was safe.
breathe in. one. ( ring-a-ring o’ roses, a pocketful of posies; ashes! ashes! we’re all tumbling down. ) two. breathe out.
“anyway, i got gold in both 200m i.m. and 100m back and a silver in 100m fly. then i quit right after — i ran on spite and xiào. just one last push to make mamá proud.”
a beat. one, two. then she smiled, in that picturesque replica of a stepfordian facade that the topacio berenguer blanchard girls have perfected over the years. she looks a bit disturbed, eyes shining bright and empty, hair looking like a hornet’s nest, and make up smeared ever so slightly. she looks like she just got out of a college pub in port angeles, right before she gets into an alley to do the dirty with a questionable stranger. it’s alarming.
“so,” she prompted, a trill in her voice and a quick clap of her hands. “who’s next to tell their tale of woe?”
