Participants:
| Scene Title | When You Need It |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Mynama finds that all good things come to those … who piss Nora off? |
| Date | April 11, 2011 |
It's the first day in months - the first day since Mynama has been on this forsaken scrap of land - that it's been warm enough to go outside without a coat on.
But the breeze that blows in off the water is enough cause for the thin girl to wear the knitted fingerless mitts she came to the island with, especially when she can't tuck them into the kangaroo pocket of the hand-me-down sweater she's wearing. It's all due to the cigarette she pinches between the index and middle fingers of her right hand, the other keeping her propped up as she sits on the dock, her feet dangling off the side.
If someone more responsible, someone more adult saw her, they might claim that being de-shod, despite the warmth, was a risk that one shouldn't take with so many sick and the threat of the flu just as strong as it was in the cold. But Mynama doesn't care. It's warm, and she lights the light spray of the water against the soles of her feet.
Her ridiculous boots, trimmed with fur and with bobble-tassles, sit beside her on the dock, a pair of once-white, now-gray socks stuffed into their flopped-over tops. To top off the fashion masterpiece, Mynama wears a scarf tight around her head, her coarse hair untamed by straightener left to make her look like a well-used makeup brush.
Also taking advantage of the warmer weather, albeit in a different way, Nora comes running along the docks — it's easy enough to realize it's not due to danger, that nothing chases her aside from her own demons and her own objectives. A headpone winds its way into just one ear, the other kept open to listen to her surroundings. Her long dark hair is swept off her face into a pony tail, and she's wearing not a motley assortment of cast-offs but sweat pants pulled up to her knee, a Pink Floyd t-shirt a bit too big and likely stolen from some boy's closet, and her black Chucks.
It's hardly posh work out attire, but it's effective enough to keep her comfortable. She moves with a grace that seems inherent in her limbs, if honed in practice, and it's only when she sees the younger girl at the dock — Nora's end point — that she begins to slow, hands moving to her hips as her head tips back. She lets the breeze bathe her face in its coolness as she pauses at the edge of the dock.
Nora can run, for all Mynama cares. Even if it does seem like she may run off the docks, being blind and all. Then again, it would be funny, even if Mynama would have to either pull her out or go get help. So when Nora's steps not only grow nearer, but slow down, Mynama blows smoke into the wind. The face she turns to Nora is cool in a calculated and controlled way, one eyebrow raised just slightly higher than the other to betray, or feign, interest.
"You going to swim next?" she asks, flicking ash from the end of her cigarette into the water. "I'll be your lifeguard." But there's something in the girl's tone that suggests she wouldn't be a very good one.
Tucking a long strand of hair that's too short for the hair band behind one ear, Nora's eyes narrow just slightly at the familiar voice. She never had a name to go with the accented words before, but her ability to recognize voices seems to have stayed with her. She smiles, though it's a little forced. "Nah. It's a great day, but that water has to still be freezing. Snow pack's probably just starting to melt up higher ground," she says easily enough.
She bends to retie one shoe lace. "I don't need a lifeguard. Thanks anyway." It's polite enough, though like her smile, forced, if not quite insincere.
"You sure?" Mynama asks, still on the nonchalant side of teasing as she takes another drag from the cigarette. "I mean, if you can't watch other people's backs when you go off on those little missions, then I can't see how you'd be any good at watching your own. Or maybe that's how come you're out here stayin' fit while they're in there full of holes or whatever."
Mynama looks thoughtful for a moment, then blinks, narrowing her own eyes at Nora. She may have already poked at the strained peace between them, but there's something different about the other girl. Given, she hasn't seen her in quite some time. "You…you're not blind anymore, are you?" She asks, the acid gone from her words for once.
Dark eyes narrow and Nora tips her head, looking out of the corners of her eyes before taking a deep, steadying breath. She looks like she's about to retort when the revelation comes, and the teen snorts.
"No. I'm not," Nora says coolly. It seems that might be all she has to say on the matter, but the heat surges as she rises from her crouch.
"And I could have kicked your skinny ass when I was blind, so you should maybe avoid talking about things you know nothing about, even more now, Mynama," comes the reprimand. "As for staying fit, it's better than sitting around here feelings sorry for myself."
Nora turns away, then throws over her shoulder, "And for the record? I already peeled a buttload of carrots and potatoes this morning, before you suggest I'm not pulling my weight."
There's no scathing reply or scrambling for one. Mynama's eyes widen slightly, then a smile breaks onto her face. In another moment, she's thrown her head back to laugh, long, loud, and from the gut. But the mirth ends in a series of throaty coughs which lead the girl to abandon her vice to the water in order to hold both hands in front of her mouth.
Still, when she recovers from the fit, laughter still leaks through the coughing and a grin stays plastered to her face.
The cough has Nora taking a step backward, swallowing. She's had her vaccine, but there are always cases of failed inoculations.
Her brows furrow at the laugh and the following grin. "Whatever," the shorter teen says, giving a shake of her head. "You have a fucking weird sense of humor, kid."
And with that, she turns to go.
To share the reason for her victory would ruin it, like explaining a joke or giving the full context of a "you had to be there" story. But the fact that Mynama was successful in getting under Nora's skin - sharing the discomfort and rage by lashing out with the only weapon she's adept with - has left the younger girl feeling a little bit freer. A little lighter.
It's shortlived, however. Even as Nora starts to walk away, the shine of glory fades, leaving the same dullness that was there before. That's the problem with bullying. But to reach out in an attempt to repair or salvage what might have been would only make her look the fool, like she didn't mean to do it. And Mynama rarely does anything she doesn't mean to.
"Don't trip!" she calls after Nora, whatever wishful thinking for the opposite result strangely absent, even if the words could be construed into a bad joke.
If Mynama wishes a reaction, she gets one. In a rush of motion, Nora suddenly traverses the short distance from the trail to the end of the dock. It's not a supernatural ability to move so quickly — but that innate grace and that practiced skill — and only upon getting there does Nora falter.
This girl is not trained as she is. This girl is younger than she is.
The foot that lashes out in a kick is instead lowered to make contact with the lower back region of the teen, and instead of kicking Mynama finds herself being pushed with the soft rubber sole of the Converse into the cold water.
Mynama doesn't have time to react any more than to squint and cringe at Nora's sudden advance, unknowingly making it all that much easier to knock her into the river. She lets out a small scream in the span of the short drop, the noise squelched by her plunge. And she doesn't immediately rise for not having fallen so far.
But when she does, it's with a sputtering, spitting dog-paddle and a desperate attempt to get a hold on the edge of the dock and pull herself up, all to avoid the rocky shore and get out as soon as possible.
Nora's arms cross as she squint down at Mynama. "How's that snow pack feeling now?" she says, the humor not reaching her eyes. "Do you need a lifeguard?"
As the other girl gets out of the water, Nora tracks her movements, backing away so no dripping fingers can pull her into the drink easily. "Listen, Mynama. I'm sure your life has sucked. Mine has too," she begins. It sounds sympathetic, but then it turns into a lecture. "But quit taking it out on everyone else. It doesn't get better that way, all right? It doesn't bring people back and it puts you in a bad place where you can't even appreciate the good things in your life."
With a great deal of concentrated effort, Mynama pulls her arms up onto the dock. She shivers, one part cold, three parts rage. Her fingers curl against the weathered wood, her teeth chattering. "Name one fucking thing you stupid, holier-than-thou, wanna-be-shrink, martyring bitch!" With the growing hostility of her words, Mynama coils, still hanging over the edge of the dock and springing at the culmination, pushing herself with her lack of upper body strength and thrashing out a hand as if to grab at the other girl's ankle.
But Mynama's fingers clutch only air.
As if pulled out of the water by invisible strings, Mynama floats a few feet above the decking and pilings, leaving a pool of water behind her on the dock. She stares at them with a mix of horror and bewilderment. That pool is slowly growing, but not just at it's edges. And the wood starts to creak.
An irritated snort comes from Nora before she shakes her head, backing up more and turning away. She can walk away from a fight — especially one she feels carries no challenge for her. No one will take her for a coward. One hand pulls the earbud from her waist, tucking it into her ear.
But that's when she hears the creaking of the docks.
Turning back, she sees the girl hovering. The creaking confuses her, but the horrified look on Mynama's face tells her most of what she needs to know.
"Hold on!" she shouts, tearing back down the trail and staring up. "This is the first time? You're manifesting… calm down, think… I'm going to pull you away from the dock, okay? I'm not going to hurt you." Hopefully the same holds true in the reverse.
Nora reaches up to curl fingers around Mynama's ankle, pulling her toward dry land and grass, so that if the girl falls it won't be on old wood.
It would be one thing to credit Mynama with the sort of self-control that would keep her from kicking at Nora when the girl goes for her ankle, but her lack of action is a result of confusion, exaltation, and primal fear. When she's clear of the end of the dock where she had been sitting not five minutes ago, Mynama does indeed fall onto the grass, but the dock behind her keeps its pool of water.
Married once more to the earth, Mynama stares at the docks with wide eyes, her lips held tightly shut as if in an attempt to keep something from spilling past them. Her fingers knit into the mixture of new and dead grass that clings to the ground, her bare heels digging into the soil as far as the hard-packed dirt and rock will let them go. When she does look at Nora, she's all but trembling.
But then, once her heart rate has slowed, the corners of her mouth curl slightly upward. "Bitch try to push me in the fuckin' water," she says, glee curling around each word like a purring kitten whose finally be welcomed into a new home.
"Bitch did push you in the water," corrects Nora, a slight smile curving her lips, but her eyes are wary, worried as she watches Mynama — now that Mynama is a lot more dangerous than she was just a few moments ago.
It's a show of trust that she crouches — a few feet away — to watch over the younger girl where she claws herself into the earth as if to be sure she won't suddenly float away like a balloon. "I donno what that was. Gravitokinesis maybe? Do you feel okay to walk? We should get you inside. Or I can get help but I don't want to leave you… if you feel like you're going to float off, lemme know, and I'll grab you," Nora says, carefully.
"Didn't stick," Mynama says, he voice sounding only half-connected to her thoughts as she looks from Nora to the ground. "Yeah. I think… I think I'll be okay." Whatever rage she had has been replace with the overwhelming emotions linked with manifestation. She's even forgotten how cold and wet and dripping and barefoot she still is.
Slowly, as if unsure about letting go of the anchors she's made for herself, Mynama lifts one slightly trembling hand after the other from the ground, only to place them there again and push herself to her feet. The surge of power, as untamed and unskilled as it is in it's raw form, is a taste Mynama wants again, and it shows in the gleam in her eye. "I have no idea how I did that," she muses, staring at the ground beneath her.
"The first times it's usually not planned," Nora murmurs, watching the girl stand, rising herself and risking stepping closer in case she needs to grab Mynama before she floats off into the stratosphere. "Usually it comes at an emotional time. When you need it. Or think you do." Her voice is subdued, neutral, as if she's verbally walking on eggshells.
Before Mynama can ask about her own manifestation, Nora shakes her head. "Not me. Nothing exciting to tell so don't ask."
The smaller teen notes the gleam in Mynama's eyes and she chuckles a little as she moves to grab the boots, now sodden, and then nods toward the castle. "Let's get you in some dry clothes."
Maybe later, Mynama will think to ask Nora about her own manifestation. Of all the people she's bothered with such stories in Bannerman Castle, Nora was never one of them. And now, as she takes step after careful step back up toward the castle, Mynama's head is whirling with too many other thoughts and feelings for anyone else to even enter into her consideration.