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Post by 𝕄𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕪 on Oct 15, 2023 4:38:46 GMT
Stories to come soon .
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Post by 𝕄𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕪 on Oct 15, 2023 4:41:16 GMT
White Elephant in the Room Part I: The Idea of Family Since she was young, Luka had always idealized the idea of family. She collected tales from her friends about their families, about how their mothers and fathers would take them out to arcades, or about how they’d play games with their siblings. Luka didn’t have any siblings, she thinks her dad would have wanted another kid. But how could he have another kid? The woman who gave birth to Luka left just months after she was born. That woman went through nine months of carrying a kid to term, just to leave because of the responsibility and time a kid took. Until she was in her early teens, her father had worked hard to sustain for Luka and for himself. It had just been the two of them, and looking back Luka wishes it would have stayed that way. That it would have stayed the way it was, just her and her dad. He was great, he’d always make time for her, no matter how busy he was. Whether it be playing games with her, helping her bake chocolate chip cookies to give to her friends, or playing frisbee with her during breezy evenings. As much as she idealized family, part of the reason she wanted a mom was because of her father’s loneliness. He’d become so desolate approaching the anniversary of the day he married Luka’s mother each year, but he tried to hide it. Luka knew he was happy with his choice to stay, that he didn’t love that woman anymore, but he was lonely. He was a single dad, raising a hyper kid who was admittedly a bit of a trouble-maker. Luka had been glad when he met Juliet Lin Foster. Juliet was a proper woman, she’d wear nice clothing, and her favorite color was red. She had a perfume that smelled like flowers, though Luka could never decipher what flowers they were supposed to smell like, just that the perfume was some imitation of real flowers. Juliet came into their lives when Luka was still a preteen. Luka had always thought her dad and Juliet were a perfect match. Luka’s dad and Juliet were momentary coworkers at a local Childcare Center called Helping Hands Childcare. Luka’s dad had been a construction worker while the place had renovations done, and Juliet worked with babysitting kids, but they had become friends during that time. When they had started to date, Luka got to learn more about Juliet, such as the fact that Juliet couldn’t have kids of her own, that Juliet always wanted to help kids, especially those who were neglected or who lost their families. It made her the perfect addition to their little family. By the time Luka was fourteen, Juliet and her father had started planning the date of their upcoming wedding. Luka had been buzzing with excitement when her father told her that he proposed to Juliet. She had gone out and picked wildflowers to match Juliet’s flowery perfume, and had given them to the bride-to-be who smiled and thanked her. Juliet and her father were excited, and preparations were made. The wedding date was set for the following year, and Luka was to be the flower girl. None of those things mattered at the time though, because for once, Luka would have a full family. She’d have a mom. When she was fifteen, approximately four months before the wedding, Luka learned her father died in an accident at work. Not any malfunctions with machinery, but instead someone speeding by recklessly too close to the construction site, drunk. It came so quickly, put her life so off track and off-kilter that she lost sight of what the world even was anymore. What was it? She had been with her father all of her life, and now she was alone. By the age of fifteen, Luka was close to getting the one thing she always wanted, just to lose everything she had. At the age of thirty-seven, Juliet became a surrogate single mother. Part II: Expectations For someone who wanted to be a mother as much as Juliet Lin Foster did, Juliet was a horrible parent. That had become obvious over the years, and it was almost laughable with how silly of an idea it seems. The woman who worked with children all of the time couldn’t handle the pressure of raising one. “Why don’t you ever think before you speak?” The shouting was commonplace at this point. Newly turned seventeen, Luka had learned what life with Juliet Lin Foster really was. It wasn’t horrible at first, but it gradually became a living nightmare. “Oh, I don’t know,” Luka replied, shoving some books in her backpack, her stormy blue eyes narrowed as she bit out the sarcastic words, “why don’t you ever listen?” Standing in Luka’s doorway, Juliet Lin Foster stood in all of her angry glory. Instead of actually adopting Luka, Juliet decided to remain as a legal guardian. The plans had been for adoption to occur, but lengthy wait times got in the way, especially whenever Juliet chose to see Luka’s attitudes for the worst and pushed back filing the forms for later. Juliet was always nitpicking the bad grade on one test instead of the overwhelming As at the end of the semester. Always taking the word of one complaint over the numerous days of compliments from Luka’s teachers. Never quite listening to Luka’s side of the story. “Don’t take on that attitude with me,” Juliet seethed, huffing out as she nitpicked Luka’s room. She seemed to find whatever flaw she wanted to find, settling her gaze on it, and taking a deep breath that signified she was about to go on some tangent, “your bed is a mess. Honestly, how hard is it to put a blanket on a bed, Luka?” “It isn’t, Julie,” Luka commented, snidely, fixing her gaze on the bed. It looked clean, the pillows neat and on the mattress, and the blanket tucked in. There was one side wrinkled down on the blanket though, making it appear just a bit lopsided. It was so stupid, just the tiniest flaw, but Luka fixed the blanket regardless because Juliet wouldn’t shut up about it until she did. Luka didn’t want to hear any more complaining than she already had to hear. Especially since she already had a bad encounter with a teacher that day, and she knew Juliet wouldn’t drop it anytime soon. “Good,” Juliet commented when Luka fixed the blankets, arms crossed over her chest, “so the incident at school? What made you think it was okay to disrespect a teacher?” “He was pointing at kids with a ruler and telling them that there was an idiot at the end of the stick,” Luka megearly defended, knowing full well she was going to lose this argument. “So you decided to best thing to say was ‘which end?’” Juliet questioned, and Luka crossed her arms, shrugging. “In retrospect, it does sound worse,” Luka admitted, before jumping to her own defense, “but in fairness, I didn’t outright say he was stupid, I just implied it. He was the one who got the question wrong and kept insisting he was right even though we showed him our math. Then he got mad because he realized he was wrong. It’s not my fault I was right.” “He’s a math teacher! He has a degree, he knows more than you do!” Juliet snapped back, increasingly frustrated. “Yeah?” Luka questioned, rolling her eyes, “well he sure has a funny way of showing that. We were right about the problem, he was wrong.” “That doesn’t excuse you calling him an idiot-” Juliet started. “Implying that he’s an idiot.” Luka corrected. “Whatever! That doesn’t excuse implying your teacher to be an idiot in the middle of class! What did you think would happen? He’d laugh it off and move on?” “I mean, yeah, if he had a sense of humor and wasn’t an idiot.” Luka replied, and honestly she wished sometimes she had a better filter because she was digging herself in a lot deeper. That served to agitate Juliet more, but she took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself down, “I’m trying so hard to keep you out of trouble, and this is how you repay me? Talking back to your teachers? Insulting other kids? I mean you’ve even backtalked the principal! When are you going to straighten up? Act like the kids your age act?” “So you want me to go do drugs, drink alcohol, and steal from dollar stores?” Luka questioned with a raised eyebrow, because what the hell did Juliet want her to do? Luka was already acting better than some other kids did. Luka was still in high school, Luka wasn’t in trouble with the law, and other than a few instances of talking back, Luka was relatively well behaved. “See, you always have something snappy to say. Some rude thing you have to tag on. You know what I mean, Luka.” Juliet commented, annoyed and frustrated, “when are you going to learn that you can’t just be a charity case your whole life?” It was silent for a few moments, because no matter what argument it was, Juliet didn’t bring up Luka being some troubled charity case all that often. It was said before, but it wasn’t often. “Is that all I am to you?” She questioned Juliet, arms crossed as she slunk back, “a charity case?” The hesitance and long pause were enough to answer enough. Not that Luka hadn’t known that, at first Juliet had been eager to help Luka, to step in as a mother and guide Luka. But Juliet’s idea of parenting vs how Luka was raised didn’t exactly mesh. Luka’s dad would let Luka stay up to watch the stars, Juliet closed the curtains and locked the doors at 9:00pm. Luka’s dad would step in if Luka had issues with people or would at least hear her out, Juliet chose to see the worst. It wasn’t too bad, not at first, but it developed into a bigger issue overtime. Juliet had this disposition to believe that kids with troubled past were innately troubled themselves. Some people had issues with high-expectations, parents or guardians expecting the best of them. It was kind of the same for Luka, just in a different way. Juliet had low expectations. She expected Luka to fail, to act out, and looked for any confirmation of those facts. Any wrong move to prove herself right. When Luka would get in trouble or get a lower grade on a test, it was just confirmation of Juliet’s fears. When she did good, that was a fluke or a surprise. Even if it really wasn’t. Even if Luka got straight As and always had her school uniform on correctly, and even if she kept her room clean and trash free. Slowly, between those few years since her father had been gone, Juliet went from sympathizing with Luka and comforting her to seeing Luka a chore, a task that Juliet got stuck with. A pest she couldn’t quite get rid of and thus was responsible for. “Luka, listen to me,” Juliet finally spoke, entering the room completely and sitting on Luka’s bed she just made to be perfect. Luka watched the blankets wrinkled under Juliet’s weight, and kept silent, “I know it’s been a hard few years. I know that you’ve been through a lot, and that you’re hurting, but you need to get over it.” What the hell? “Your dad wouldn’t want you to do this. He’d want you to be a good kid, to listen to your teachers, to treat other people with respect, to not argue with everyone all the time. Don’t you want to make him proud?” Juliet questioned. No matter what argument it was, Juliet always used the I just want what’s best for you argument, or she’d inch into the territory of I know you miss your dad. I know it’s hard. But she never went to this extreme. Never brought him into the story like a ****ing puppet. “Who are you to say what he’d want?” Luka questioned, anger in her voice, rising with her words, “you’re a shitty example of what he’d want for me. You think he’d want his daughter trapped with you and your shitty expectations? I can’t tell whether you expect me to be perfect or expect me to be lower than the ground under your shoes. You know jackshit about my dad. About what he went through for me, about how he raised me to be. He’d rather me speak up and do what I thought was right than to stay quiet and let people walk all over me. He was a better parent than you’ll ever be because he knew how to listen. You’d never know how to do that, with your head shoved so far up your own ass.” Luka took a deep breath afterward, and she immediately clamped her mouth shut. Juliet looked angry, but strangely calm all the same. Like she expected something like this, like she was coming to terms with some terrible news. “You’re dad’s dead, Luka,” she said, voice cold, “it doesn’t matter what he wants anymore because he’s dead.” The words felt cruel, and Luka hated hearing them, because she still missed him, “I couldn’t be what he wanted for you, and you’ll never be what I wanted in a daughter. I tried to be what he wanted for you, I tried to take over whenever he was gone, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy at all. You must think it’s so easy.” Juliet said, and she looked so emotionally broken that Luka almost felt bad. Almost. “I don’t think it’s easy,” Luka commented, “but I think you make it harder than it has to be. I think you got so lost in your expectations for yourself, you started to spread them to me. You expect me to be flawless, you expect me to be trouble, and you can never make up your mind.” Luka said, breathing in the tension, feeling it strain against her lungs, the heavy sting in her eyes, “no one expects you to be perfect, no one expects you to be a mess up, no one but yourself.” Juliet took a few deep breaths in, visible tears on her face, but she wiped them away with the back of her hands. Luka thought maybe, for once, Juliet had understood. The tears on her cheeks, the feeling of years of tension ebbing away, the comfortable silence settling in the room. Luka thought that for once, Juliet had listened, and that maybe, just maybe, they could repair this broken family. But there’s always the quiet before the storm. “You need to move on,” Juliet finally said, the peace had shattered back into reality, the rose-colored glasses gone, as Juliet’s hardened eyes focused on Luka. Of course she’d shift this back around on Luka, “what I do? I do because it’s what’s best for you. You should learn to appreciate that, instead of focusing on this whole story of expectations and family. You’re almost a grown up, Luka, it’s time you act like it.”
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Post by 𝕄𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕪 on Oct 15, 2023 5:07:03 GMT
The Lie
Cleo had adjusted to this new place, a strange one, it was. It had only been a total of three days, and yet they had gained some status as a leader among this group of misfits.
It was odd, in so many forms. The other leaders were interesting, and Cleo felt they had a good judge of character. Naida was secretive, she seemed smart, but part of Cleo had issues in trusting her. She seemed so closed off, though everyone had their secrets.
Dillon was very sweet, and Cleo found they didn’t hate being in his company. He seemed kind, checking on others. Another good pick for a leader.
Irene and the unnamed anger boy were interesting. Very aggressive, in their opinion. Irene seemed more focused on justice and truth, however, while the unnamed boy just seemed aggressive and overly protective of the poor girl who seemed mute.
Cleo chose not to give the girl, Echo, too much attention. The poor girl got so much as it was, no wonder she was always so scared.
Then there was Lucien, who Cleo had no respect for. He was rude, disrespectful, a trouble-maker, and the absolute furthest thing from a leader.
Luka was another young kid, and it confused Cleo to no end on how 2 children got leadership status. Two of the youngest in the Pantheon, and they had been voted in. Though for what it was worth, Luka seemed to be a bit of a jokester, a bit of an asshole, but not an overall vile person.
In actuality, everyone of the leaders would do fine with a little work. Cleo was sure of it. Lucien and Luka could grow up a bit, learn to prioritize others, and everyone could grow out of the awkwardness.
They had finally been accepted, they realized, as they sipped a bit of water at the dinner table, ruminating in their thoughts. The thought almost made them smile.
Perhaps, with time, this place could feel like home.
—
It had only been a week and a day. Sleep was a stranger, as of now, beyond all the stress of their situation. The injuries people faced. Just yesterday, the paradise turned into a nightmare. Cleo was one of the lucky few who were spared.
One of the few who took the situation in stride.
Inside they were cracking under the pressure. The guidance people looked to them for. The worried eyes, the voices asking for what to do. The fact that they were Ma’at’s chosen made them a target for such requests.
People thought they knew what to do, the right steps, all because they knew the truth. People relied on them, and it seemed like they relied on Cleo’s opinions more than the others.
It seemed understandable, almost. Naida was so mysterious and reserved, Dillon could be much too kind, too scared to hurt feelings. River was so aggressive and set in his way. Irene was also aggressive, and it seemed to quick to react to bad situations. Lucien was young, and also aggressive. Luka was young and treated everything like a joke.
Cleo had their faults, they knew that. Though one would be incorrect to assume they didn’t think things through. They weren’t entirely apathetic, but in a situation of life or death, one couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
It had been an accident, stumbling upon an article about a famous singer’s lost son. The man was building up some pity story, fans sharing media about the man. Cleo recognized him, some of the features. It’s not like they purposely looked up into Lucien’s past. Like they were trying to do some background check on him.
It just happened to be trending. Like many of the missing kids, and snippets of their stories or theories on what happened to them. When they spotted their own name among it all, they felt sick, closing out of their browser with a nervous bought of fidgeting.
Lucien’s anger did make sense, to a degree. Though Cleo couldn’t forgive River for making an enemy of the boy. They couldn’t forgive anyone for making him leader. A kid Lucien’s age should be in high school, harassing their friends or teachers with pranks or whatever. A kid Luka’s age should be taking stressful exams and writing papers, laughing at friends, not risking their lives to lead a bunch of failures.
And yes, failures, that’s what they were. People who wouldn’t be missed if they died. Cleo did some research on that too, spoke to Ma’at some. About the first wave, the failed ones. Pestering their guide about the exiled seemed to work slightly, but they didn’t get a lot of information. Just a snippet that they weren’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last.
They still didn’t know how to feel about some of the kids. They didn’t like Laurie, he was too much of an idiot and drunkard for their tastes, which River seemed to absolutely love. Irene was a bit annoying with her aggressive demeanor, but she was capable. Lucien was annoying, and that was literally all they could reflect on most of the time.
Dillon seemed so nice it had to be fake. Haleema was secretive, mysterious, and seemed like she had dark secrets, rather than just being shy. Like she was hiding.
They didn’t know what to think of Luka, so they felt pretty much the same about her as they did about Lucien. Just another annoying kid. They had thought, anyways.
Sure, they never quite trusted her. It seemed strange that the champion of Loki was selected as a leader, given his whole chaos and disorder spiel. But overall, other than being absolutely horrible in general, Luka wasn’t too terrible. Better than Lucien, in many respects, at least in the fact that she didn’t attack everything that moved.
Though, they should have seen it when Luka came back with Chiara, not looking scared or worried for the other girl, but quite frankly looking annoyed.
They didn’t get the chance to think anything else over about the fights the day prior, as someone was already pushing past them to get into the kitchen. As they turned, the spotted the tired girl standing on her tiptoes to reach a cabinet, which was still out of her reach.
“How are you so short?” They questioned, aghast really, because she was so tiny in comparison to them. They got a glare, and before they could offer help, Luka deadass climbed onto the counter to reach her cabinet, pulling out a box of cheddar crisps before hopping off like the terror of a child she was.
“‘M not short,” Luka retorted, groggily, shoving the crisps into her mouth as she glared at Cleo, “What ‘re you doin’ ‘wake?”
A staring contest ensued, with Cleo completely confused at what Luka had been attempting to say. Eventually they caught the general gist, blinking owlishly a few times, “It’s literally 7 a.m., Luka.”
“Oh.” Cleo could hear the small girl take a deep breath, a few seconds passing, before finally Luka continued, “That’s gross.”
She popped more crisps into her mouth, much to Cleo’s raised eyebrow. “No, it’s really not. It’s like, a normal time for people to be awake. It’s literally when people should wake up.”
“Maybe insane people,” Cleo took it all back, Luka could be very annoying, “‘M not insane. I have standards, and my standards are not waking up at 7 in the morning like a deadass f*cking lunatic.”
“Luka,” Cleo took a deep breath, focusing themselves, “You are literally awake.”
She didn’t look impressed, so they continued, sputtering slightly, “Have you even been to sleep? You’re a child, Luka, you need sleep.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.” Luka completely ignored the question, instead eating more crisps, stubbornly holding eye contact for a moment. “Not a child either, don’t call me one, dipshit.”
They paused for a moment, rolling their eyes, “Why is like, every second word you say either a curse, insult, or both?”
“I’m Australian,” Luka replied, as if it was a proper response, raising both eyebrows in an almost comical fashion, “What the f*ck kind of question is that?”
Cleo rubbed at their eyes. An exhausted appearance on their face for a moment, before deciding to press into matters. “Whatever,” they responded, shrugging, “What, are you worried about Chiara or something?”
“Pfft,” Luka snorted, appearing nonchalant, “No. why would I be?”
They detected some kind of huge lie in that statement, but shrugged it off in return for pressing the matter at hand. Something about Luka’s grin seemed offsetting to them, like something was amiss. “She got attacked by a giant wolf, almost lost an arm. You guys could have died?”
Luka seemed to sober up slightly, tone annoyed, “That’s not my bloody problem, now is it?” That annoying box of snacks got set down on the counter she had previously climbed on, her gaze instead focused solely on Cleo. “What are you getting at, anyways?”
Well, blunt and to the point it was then. They wanted to figure out Luka a bit, find out why she seemed off to them. “Luka,” they started, softly, tiredness in their voice, unsure for a moment, “Would you ever hurt her?” Luka’s eyes widened, by a fraction. “Would you ever hurt us?”
“What kind of question is that?” Luka retorted, voice rising slightly in her common defense tactic.
“What kind of answer is that?” Cleo responded, stepping closer. Something seemed wrong, so very wrong with Luka. They wanted to get to the bottom of it. How was Chiara bleeding out like that, but Luka merely scratched?
Luka seemed to relent, looking away from Cleo then. “Why are you even asking?”
It still wasn’t an answer. So Cleo pushed more, “Chiara came back really injured,” Luka at least winced at the reminder, “And yet you came back fine. And that lady on the TV, your guardian...”
Cleo knew that was dangerous territory, and they wanted to apologize immediately with how Luka’s face twisted up. Before the girl could complain, they rose their hands up, stepping back, “I’m not judging. I’m just saying, she seemed...wary of you?”
“I don’t have a bloody fucking clue what you’re talking about!” Luka snapped, turning away, apparently ready to storm out of the room.
Cleo shivered slightly, the telltale nagging reminding them that Luka was lying. Luka knew exactly what they meant. Which meant...that woman did have some reason to be wary then, right? Maybe they shouldn’t have pressed, but none of it added up.
“Then answer the question, Luka,” Cleo pressed, voice grating on the edge of inpatient and annoyed, “Would you ever hurt us?”
Luka was almost out the door, pausing for a moment in the low light, head turned over her shoulder with wandering eyes. She seemed to focus, sighing out, slow and even, with a forced grin on her face. “No,” she affirmed, stepping out of the room towards her own room, probably to sleep.
Cleo should have felt relieved. They should have, but they stood there, feeling dread pooling in their stomach, stepping back slightly. Putting as much distance between themselves and the snake.
Luka had lied.
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Post by 𝕄𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕪 on Aug 23, 2024 18:20:12 GMT
Non-Canon Event;
Context: Future event. In a fight against the Exiled, Luka's hit with a poison-tipped dagger whilst protecting Laurie.
The poison was curling through her lungs, digging in like a thorn. Leaning her head back, Luka struggled to get air in, feeling it sting through her chest. Her eyes were closing on their own, filled with stinging tears, and she opened them to stare at her companion.
Laurie looked haggard too, a bit better, given that Luka had taken the hit for him, but not good. Pitifully, Luka tried to offer up a smile, but it felt fake, and ran down her face like water as she felt pain coat her insides, curling over more.
“Calm down,” Laurie commented, trying to stabilize her, his hand on her shoulder, “breathe deep, it’s going to be okay.”
“You’re not a very good liar,” Luka commented, laughing at the boy, though it turned into a cough at the end. She knew one of her ribs was broken, knew it penetrated something in her own body, and each cough brought up more pain and vitriol, burning through her throat. Specks of blood landed on the wall as she turned her head to press into it more, struggling for breath.
She registered Laurie’s arms on her shoulders, his eyes, wide and worried. He’d grown so much since the Exiled kidnapped him and the others. His hair had grown back some, and he had a new collection of scars. But he had more confidence now, more to live for, and more to lose.
His hands squeezed her shoulders, and she smiled as his eyes, wide and wet, met her own. “Come on, Luka, please.”
Luka shook her head, summoning her strength to comfort him, she raised one of her hands to grasp his own. She smiled as she felt her fingers slip over a band on one of his fingers, his wedding band. She still remembered the wedding, how River and Laurie wore the biggest of smiles on their faces. How everyone had gathered together. Cleo had toasted the couple, their makeup impeccable and a smile shining on their face. Dillon and Lorenzo, hand-in-hand as they danced. Luka remembered how Lucien looked, like a kid grown up too fast, and how they danced too, laughing every time they stepped on eachother’s feet.
But as soon as the happy memories came, so did the horrid ones. Lucien’s blank stare, glazed and locked on nothing. River, crying as he cradled the body. Luka remembered her own hoarse cries, how she fought and fought but how the others held her back.
She hadn’t moved out of her room for days, having lost motivation. Instead, she stared at the guitar, Lucien had taught her to play throughout the years, and had gifted her it. She sat for days, refusing to eat, barely sleeping, strumming the softest of songs. The songs he’d play.
The reminder caused her to freeze, eyes stinging again. Laurie was still staring at her in concern, tears tracking down his face, and Luka worried he’d give away their location. Then again, the threat seemed to be gone. Laurie had gotten them out of that area, after all.
Relaxing her body, Luka buried herself in Laurie’s holding, raising her hands to hug him. He untensed, hugging her just as close, and she could faintly feel the fall of drops onto her shoulder.
“Laurie,” she struggled to get out, noticing that despite how tightly she was being hugged, her friend was being impeccably gentle, as if cradling a fragile child and not a wounded adult. He replied with a soft hum of acknowledgement, seeming too choked up for much else. She lifted her head slightly, turning it so she could look up at him, trying to smile, “could you-” she stopped, a weak cough escaping her as she fought to get the words out and offer her best friend a smile, “could you tell me a joke?”
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