Arms Unfolding
When Willow put the bracelet back on, she looked happy, but the look disappeared almost just as soon as it had arrived. She looked around them, vacant on all sides for miles besides the flora and fauna, and continued their path. It was something on her mind, the way she hid her face was very telling.
Flash tentatively continued along beside her, slightly behind to make sure he heard everything properly. He took a sip of his tea, the smell of the pine mix with the smell of wet stone and morning ozone calmed his quickly beating heart. Being outside had achieved its purpose-- even when deeply concerned, he was able to keep a clear head.
It was a rocky start-- she started talking about what happened at the party. When she left and Jack and Ruka followed, she had a breakdown. It wasn’t anything Flash didn’t expect to have happened, but the thought of Jack and Ruka hovering around her while she was vulnerable somehow made him angry. It didn’t help that he only recently heard things about Burnett that put him squarely in an unfavorable light.
He wished it would have been him. That feeling crept up on him, when he tried to analyse the origin of his anger. He didn’t like it; it was possessive, controlling. He wanted to have a say in who talked to her, he wanted to protect her from bad influences.
They had apparently helped her, which he would take into account, but it hardly lit the flame of appriciation in his heart. It was the least they could do in that situation, since it was Burnett himself who antagonized her.
He didn’t have time to dwell on his thoughts however, as Willow began to describe the extent of her victimhood at the hand of her bullies at home. Even her own family. The bits and pieces of her life that she had shared in the past began to form a collage. The stigma of being a muggle witch, one who didn’t know there were so many more like her.
Flash knew about the Salem witch trials, but not in detail. He spent much of his time trying to cram as much information as he could into his brain, but American history was not a subject he delved into at all. It was enough of a part of cultural knowledge that it was hard to avoid the basic idea, at least. Not to mention witches had been persecuted for years in many countries by muggles.
But she was specific. Cruelly specific. She took his hand in hers, and he held it diligently. At nine-years-old, Willow had been tortured. Crushed, chased, burned, nearly drowned… She began to list the ways that the bullies hounded her. They made her flee to find her freedom, only so she might feel more fear in anticipation of her inevitable capture.
The world is merciless… not even for Willow would it stop its heartless onslaught... At times, Flash’s heart wept for the soul of mankind. The rats hastening around errantly, eating their young, stealing beyond their need, taking advantage of the weak. There was no justice in nature, things happened for no reason at all. Suffering in service of nothing. The slaying of Willow’s happy childhood… and for what? A sense of superiority?
People like that didn’t deserve to live. They were a waste of the air they breathed. To contribute nothing to the world but pain and sorrow… it made one a blight, meant to be eradicated. To hear Willow’s words only a few days after Opeila detailed her own experiences with unjust mistreatment was too much for Flash to hear silently.
”Damn them… there’s no excuse...” He muttered, his face pulled back in an ugly scowl.
She described how she saw Hogwarts-- how it was far away from the place where she had to hide from brutal assailants. It was such a naive point of view that Flash almost wanted to pity her. Nowhere was safe, the demons were already inside them.
Still when she spoke of what she should have done, or how she should have believed him, he couldn’t understand. Having explained her experiences didn’t change how he saw the truth. She was right to be afraid of him. He still wasn’t sure if anything he was doing was right. Nothing seemed right, the whole world was wrong.
At the very least, he wanted to be the kind of person Willow could trust.
But she wasn’t done. He had attacked her again, only months ago, carving into her skin with a knife. Flash breathed heavily through his nose, no longer sure what kind of face he was making. Revulsion. Fury. Vehemence. The anger growing in him was black, oily, and adhesive, sticking and growing through his veins.
He had to do something. His uselessness would drive him insane if he could do nothing at all. He wanted to throw his mug just for the satisfaction of breaking something. He wanted to flood the whole world and start over fresh. He wanted to run off into the forest and never return. He wanted to scream.
But it was an inappropriate time for all that. He was with Willow while she was trying to bare her wounds, to be open and honest with him. It wasn’t supposed to be about Xavier, and the power he had over her. It was about their relationship. That, at least, was a good thing. He could be a good friend.
”I can look at it for you. I’ll help you take care of it.” Flash washed his face clean of whatever horrible face he was making, looking back at Willow with conviction in his eyes. ”I can’t say for certain whether I’ll be of any use, but I’ll do anything I can. I’ll start looking into medicines to help with scar tissue. There has to be something.”
Flash’s mind flipped to life like a power station turning on. There was a lot he could do, there were people he could ask, herbs he could buy. There was always something that could be done.
Flash tentatively continued along beside her, slightly behind to make sure he heard everything properly. He took a sip of his tea, the smell of the pine mix with the smell of wet stone and morning ozone calmed his quickly beating heart. Being outside had achieved its purpose-- even when deeply concerned, he was able to keep a clear head.
It was a rocky start-- she started talking about what happened at the party. When she left and Jack and Ruka followed, she had a breakdown. It wasn’t anything Flash didn’t expect to have happened, but the thought of Jack and Ruka hovering around her while she was vulnerable somehow made him angry. It didn’t help that he only recently heard things about Burnett that put him squarely in an unfavorable light.
He wished it would have been him. That feeling crept up on him, when he tried to analyse the origin of his anger. He didn’t like it; it was possessive, controlling. He wanted to have a say in who talked to her, he wanted to protect her from bad influences.
They had apparently helped her, which he would take into account, but it hardly lit the flame of appriciation in his heart. It was the least they could do in that situation, since it was Burnett himself who antagonized her.
He didn’t have time to dwell on his thoughts however, as Willow began to describe the extent of her victimhood at the hand of her bullies at home. Even her own family. The bits and pieces of her life that she had shared in the past began to form a collage. The stigma of being a muggle witch, one who didn’t know there were so many more like her.
Flash knew about the Salem witch trials, but not in detail. He spent much of his time trying to cram as much information as he could into his brain, but American history was not a subject he delved into at all. It was enough of a part of cultural knowledge that it was hard to avoid the basic idea, at least. Not to mention witches had been persecuted for years in many countries by muggles.
But she was specific. Cruelly specific. She took his hand in hers, and he held it diligently. At nine-years-old, Willow had been tortured. Crushed, chased, burned, nearly drowned… She began to list the ways that the bullies hounded her. They made her flee to find her freedom, only so she might feel more fear in anticipation of her inevitable capture.
The world is merciless… not even for Willow would it stop its heartless onslaught... At times, Flash’s heart wept for the soul of mankind. The rats hastening around errantly, eating their young, stealing beyond their need, taking advantage of the weak. There was no justice in nature, things happened for no reason at all. Suffering in service of nothing. The slaying of Willow’s happy childhood… and for what? A sense of superiority?
People like that didn’t deserve to live. They were a waste of the air they breathed. To contribute nothing to the world but pain and sorrow… it made one a blight, meant to be eradicated. To hear Willow’s words only a few days after Opeila detailed her own experiences with unjust mistreatment was too much for Flash to hear silently.
”Damn them… there’s no excuse...” He muttered, his face pulled back in an ugly scowl.
She described how she saw Hogwarts-- how it was far away from the place where she had to hide from brutal assailants. It was such a naive point of view that Flash almost wanted to pity her. Nowhere was safe, the demons were already inside them.
Still when she spoke of what she should have done, or how she should have believed him, he couldn’t understand. Having explained her experiences didn’t change how he saw the truth. She was right to be afraid of him. He still wasn’t sure if anything he was doing was right. Nothing seemed right, the whole world was wrong.
At the very least, he wanted to be the kind of person Willow could trust.
But she wasn’t done. He had attacked her again, only months ago, carving into her skin with a knife. Flash breathed heavily through his nose, no longer sure what kind of face he was making. Revulsion. Fury. Vehemence. The anger growing in him was black, oily, and adhesive, sticking and growing through his veins.
He had to do something. His uselessness would drive him insane if he could do nothing at all. He wanted to throw his mug just for the satisfaction of breaking something. He wanted to flood the whole world and start over fresh. He wanted to run off into the forest and never return. He wanted to scream.
But it was an inappropriate time for all that. He was with Willow while she was trying to bare her wounds, to be open and honest with him. It wasn’t supposed to be about Xavier, and the power he had over her. It was about their relationship. That, at least, was a good thing. He could be a good friend.
”I can look at it for you. I’ll help you take care of it.” Flash washed his face clean of whatever horrible face he was making, looking back at Willow with conviction in his eyes. ”I can’t say for certain whether I’ll be of any use, but I’ll do anything I can. I’ll start looking into medicines to help with scar tissue. There has to be something.”
Flash’s mind flipped to life like a power station turning on. There was a lot he could do, there were people he could ask, herbs he could buy. There was always something that could be done.
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15
Arms Unfolding
Interacting with @Flash Holmwood
Willow's head shot up when Flash had spoken, watching his expression. He seemed angry, with her? When she imagined finally telling someone about all of this, she expected there to be anger towards her, even shame to be associated with her. To be someone so weak to continually get caught in the forests that she knew so well, they always knew them better. But this was different than expected. He seemed angry at the ones that hurt her, and it was another feeling of care she wasn't prepared for.
Everything she had feared and imagined happening when she would finally hand someone everything they needed to destroy her, wasn't happening. It was a new feeling she felt incapable of handling. Of course Flash wouldn't use such easy information, just like Jack had mentioned after the birthday party. Information handed over so easily and vividly was a shameful act, Flash seemed like the type to be creative.
'No.' She couldn't think like this anymore. Flash was someone that cared for her and she had to accept it, no matter how hard it was to come to terms with that fact that someone could love her in the ways that she had craved and reached out so desperately for, for so many years. Jack's words continue to echo in her head, that she needed to give Flash the benefit of the doubt that he wouldn't hurt her, that she needed to start seeing things from his point of view. Even looking through his eyes, she saw a girl so broken, trembling in the dark. Her hand reaching out once more, and this time he grabbed it and pulled her all the way out. She saw his sister hurt by others, so cruelly that it seems unimaginable that she could have had all this happen by the time she was eleven.
Everything finally seemed to be moving in the direction in the idea that she was capable of love and care. Ruka first showed it to her holding her so gently and without hesitation despite her being so mean to him not five minutes before, as she began to slowly open this box that she had kept tightly shut for so long. As much as she hated it, Jack poking holes in her judgment to further her wanting to run back to Flash. Mildred, checking in on her after the party being so angry that Willow couldn't tell her what was going on before it all seemed to implode, because she wanted to see Willow happy. And Flash, the final piece of it all. The person she knew that from here on out she could go to, that she could trust with gently placing her bandaged heart in his hands as he slowly helped heal the brokenness of it all with her.
It was terrifying to start to let people care about her, but she had to start somewhere. Flash's face was plastered with such anger as she explained what happened to her over break. She could only bear to take small glances towards him as she told that story, for that fear still nagged that at any point he could run just as she did. It would take awhile for that fear to be a quieter voice than it was.
Then his face changed, one of determination and dedication in reference to taking care of her. A small smile appeared through the fog of hurt. She of course had everything to make a home recipe for taking care of scars that she had found in their book of shadows one day and had used ever since. It was nearly foolproof when it came to dealing with the injuries that she had. But Flash was completely willing to start doing the research himself. Showing him the word painfully forced onto her body would be a different battle for a different day, she could barely look at it at herself currently. But a warmth filled her heart and all she responded with a small nod. "I would be grateful if you would. I already have a salve... I just can't reach." She wiggled her arms for comedic effect to bring some light into such a dark conversation. "Short person, short arms. It's a curse." She let out a giggle, she hadn't laughed in too long. It felt right to finally have her laugh be with Flash.
She sighed as she needed to finish up her thoughts. "I didn't tell you this to have you pity me or treat me like a glass half cracked later on. I wanted you to know what you're working against. This whole friend, people caring about me thing is weird. But I want to figure out how to make it not so weird with you." She looked up at him, eyes still glistening from the tears she had just shed. But there was something else behind them, a determination that matched Flash's own. "I won't run away again, I promise. As much as running is so much easier than staying, I want to stay with you. If you'll still have me." She wanted to give him one last chance to opt out. Just as they both did in the greenhouse that one chaotic day, but just like that day she knew neither of them would back out.
"I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough." - Mason Deaver
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
Arms Unfolding
Willow accepted his help, calming what nerves Flash had left. He was bright-eyed, awake, and alert. Not conscious of it, he felt as if someone would come out of nowhere and attack them. Perhaps he was looking for a fight. Something to do with the feelings starting to collect in his chest. Unable to do anything else but nip at his tea, he solemnly shook his head, like a contract being completed. As much as he knew seeing the scars would anger him, his feelings were of little consequence when compared to Willow having to suffer through obtaining them.
Flash didn’t have scars like that. It only solidified the worry he carried with him for a while-- that he had no excuse for parading around the school all mopey, or feeling put upon by his family. He knew Opeila had told him, other people’s suffering won’t make ours go away. Still, there was little Flash could do to combat the feeling of needing to compare himself to others. If someone as kind and happy as Willow could have so much suffering inside her, what else were his classmates hiding? The world could be so cruel, he had no right to act like a victim of it.
Even though the conversation had started with Flash not knowing if he would ever see Willow on good terms again, now it seemed as though things were practically returned to the way they used to be. This time however, Flash knew Willow better, and she knew him better as well, even if it was only by a bit. He resolved to himself to be more open, with everyone, but mostly to her. Even though he doubted anyone cared about hearing about him any more than they already had, he would at least stop defending the information like it was the key to his destruction. In Willow’s hands, it would likely blossom into something beautiful.
”I’m glad.” Flash replied to her words, a pledge of wanting to work on their friendship, of not running away. He didn’t want to burden her with an overly emotional response, one that described the horrible pain he felt in her absence, or how hearing those words brought him a sense of safety he thought would surely carry him through the rest of the year and onward. ”It seems like we both have a lot to learn, but I’m looking forward to it.”
@Willow Anderson
Flash didn’t have scars like that. It only solidified the worry he carried with him for a while-- that he had no excuse for parading around the school all mopey, or feeling put upon by his family. He knew Opeila had told him, other people’s suffering won’t make ours go away. Still, there was little Flash could do to combat the feeling of needing to compare himself to others. If someone as kind and happy as Willow could have so much suffering inside her, what else were his classmates hiding? The world could be so cruel, he had no right to act like a victim of it.
Even though the conversation had started with Flash not knowing if he would ever see Willow on good terms again, now it seemed as though things were practically returned to the way they used to be. This time however, Flash knew Willow better, and she knew him better as well, even if it was only by a bit. He resolved to himself to be more open, with everyone, but mostly to her. Even though he doubted anyone cared about hearing about him any more than they already had, he would at least stop defending the information like it was the key to his destruction. In Willow’s hands, it would likely blossom into something beautiful.
”I’m glad.” Flash replied to her words, a pledge of wanting to work on their friendship, of not running away. He didn’t want to burden her with an overly emotional response, one that described the horrible pain he felt in her absence, or how hearing those words brought him a sense of safety he thought would surely carry him through the rest of the year and onward. ”It seems like we both have a lot to learn, but I’m looking forward to it.”
@Willow Anderson
For we dreamed a lot//And we schemed a lot//And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart
Sta: 9 ★Eva: 5 ★Str: 7 ★Wis: 15 ★AP: 3 ★Acc: 15