Spoils of War

Saturday, 12/21/2250 – By Rebecca Green.

 

Last night had been wonderful – magical, even. She couldn’t really describe what had happened, but it had been like a dream straight out of the sappy romance novels she couldn’t stand. She’d awoken with Adrian’s arm around her and her head against his arm, deep in the depths of the library. She felt on top of the world, but at the same time there was a level of perplexion.

She’d felt comfortable, waking up with him. It had been a strange level of intimacy, nothing sexual or even physical about it except them touching each other in the barest manner. She hadn’t been that close to anyone in a good thirty years, not emotionally, and not so innocently. Perhaps that was what she liked about Adrian- he was so inexperienced, yet he was entirely sincere in every action he took toward showing what little affection he felt comfortable showing.

It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to be so vulnerable. Falling asleep with him- deep and sound, and she knew it had been foolish in part, with that mad woman after her, but she felt… safe, as silly as that sounded.

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Ross Calls Jay

Saturday, 12/21/2250 – By Kayla Salmon. 

Ross 12:43 AM: JAY
Ross 12:46 AM: JAY ANSWER YOUR PHONE
Ross 12:47 AM: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY
Ross 12:48 AM: I WILL KEEP CALLING YOU UNTIL YOU ANSWER
Ross 12:50 AM: PROF VANDER IS MIA, PROBABLY DEAD, HER BROTHER IS APPARENTLY BEEN KILLED AND HER NEICE GOT ATTACKED, SHCOOLS IN LOCK DOWN
Ross 12:52 AM: ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE
Ross 12:55 AM: YOUR GRANDKIDS COULD BE DYING RIGYT NOW AND YOU WOULDN’T EVEN KNWO

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Staccato

Friday, 12/20/2250 – by Nicole Adams. 

Adrian’s heart was still pounding, his sight dizzy, and he hardly knew how his legs hadn’t given out from under him. Maybe it was because the plan, the work, and the effort put into making sure everything went just right, had been worth it in the end. He’d sung, done his best to ignore the hundreds of eyes staring at him by focusing just on Rhea. He had shown more courage than he’d really thought he’d had as he pulled her into a dance. Now he had her by the hand, drawing her from the atrium and the crowd watching them go.

She had to have known, or at least suspected. He had seen the confusion and surprise in her eyes at the first note of the song, blaring above the noise of the crowd of students, the sharp blue fixing on him, her mind instantly working to identify him past the hair dye, the ornate mask, the colored contacts, and the dark clothes he’d donned. And, under suggestion from Aelita to make the ploy harder to see past in a second, he had changed the pitch of his voice to one deeper.

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Bottoms Up, We’re Going Down

Friday, 12/20/2250 – By Kayla Salmon.

Ayato was looking forward to the masquerade, mostly for the chance to get out and have fun with his girlfriend. Knowing that she wasn’t about to go the whole nine yards meant he didn’t have to either; a shower and a nicer set of clothes, dress pants with a button-down shirt and a pair of shoes that weren’t too shabby. He’d gotten a mask from the prefects who had been in charge of buying or making them. He’d arranged to meet Cleo in the Eagle’s House around seven, and he was there right on the dot, standing in their common room and waiting for her to appear.

Upstairs, however, everything was a mess. The girl’s dormitory at the Eagle House had been in an absolute uproar for the better part of the day and Cleo was forced to sit for nearly four hours as all of the madness swirled around her. Her sister and a few of their friends had insisted on doing some sort of spa prep thing in which they did facemasks and each others nails and then make up, as well as swapping jewelry and shoes and making sure dresses and masks were in order. It had been fun at first, but Cleo didn’t like being pampered and she didn’t like people picking and plucking at her in any sort of way, so it had gotten old fast. Her sister had barely been able to wrangle her to brush out and then use a curling iron on her hair. It looked great, but Dee had burnt her several times and after just a touch of makeup, Cleo made a break for it, grabbing her shoes in her hand and running for the stairs. Her mask sat on top of her head, its red and silver swirls matching the red of her dress and a silver necklace she’d donned.

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