oddthatway | Traveling slow with broken boats heading for the sky and I'm an island.

It's almost sun down when I decide I need to be out of the apartment. I've spent too much of today caught up in my own thoughts, and it's starting to wear me down. So I grab my keys, my phone, and a knife I can hide in the sleeve of my jacket, and I head out the door, no clear direction in mind.

It's warm, but tolerably so. The kind of weather perfect for running, really. But though I could easily set out on a run, I don't really feel like doing so. I kind of want to see where my feet wind up taking me, maybe stopping for an iced coffee on the way.

Darrow is full of peace and tranquility, the likes of which I never knew back in Chicago. Even Amity's campground proved little more than a sham, in the end. A balm that couldn't fully cover the gaping wound. As much as I appreciate a life in which no one is trying to actively kill me, sometimes, this place still doesn't feel real to me.

I'm not looking where I'm going, and, of course, I'm turning the corner of a street. Naturally, I nearly collide with someone else.

"Shit!" I say, halting where I am and hoping I haven't done any damage. "I'm sorry."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Any surprise at the collision is obliterated when Raven catches sight of the girl's gaze. It only takes her a split second to recognise the face, younger than the mutant she'd known but still so much the same.

She should be used to all of this by now, she shouldn't be shocked by people looking the same when she can wear anyone's face. But all she can think of is Angel, the beautiful friend she'd had and lost in such a brief amount of time. The girl with wings who had them ripped off by people who were threatened by their kind.

She can't breathe, the picture of Angel on a cold slab of metal with no life in her eyes filling her mind again. "You're... who are you?" she manages somehow, and it might be a demand if not for the way her voice strains.

I've never seen the girl I collide with before, but something about her expression strikes me anyway. Maybe it's the fact that she's staring at me the way I stared at Tris when I first arrived here. As though I'm nothing more than a ghost.

I feel like I'm caught in headlights; blinded by the intensity of her gaze, but unable to turn away myself.

Though, truthfully, the longer we stare at each other, the more it seems that this girl is the one who's been run over by some wayward vehicle, with the pained way she keeps her gaze on me.

"I'm Christina," I tell her , trying to keep my voice even so as not to startle her. "And you are?"

"Raven," she manages, and then she's sure that it's not her. Not her friend, not her fellow mutant, not the one who had abandoned her for Shaw and the rest of them.

Angel might have been as much a codename as Mystique, but this isn't her. This is another one of the city's cruel tricks, a way of forcing its inhabitants to confront their past and the future (how easily the two blur), never quite comfortable in the present.

"You look like someone I know," she adds, trying not to stare. Raven knows how unsettling it can be to be stared at, but she can't seem to look away, as if maybe if she hopes hard enough she can will the girl into being Angel again. As if maybe she can bring her back, make things right. "Knew."

"Raven," I repeat, with a smile. Like the bird. The birds Tris is so afraid of, and yet, has tattooed on her body anyway, like the Dauntless that she is. "One hell of a name."

I can see that my appearance is causing her pain; I wonder what kind of reminder I bring her with my presence, and then she tells me.

And she says know, but she corrects it to 'knew,' in that tone of voice. So I'm a replica of a dead friend. I'm sure whoever it is that actually runs this city is getting a fair amount of amusement from that. I don't know this girl, but I feel bad for her, and whoever it is that she's lost.

"And who was your friend?" I ask.

"Angel," Raven answers, and not for the first time it occurs to her that both of their names implied wings. Of course, Angel actually had them, so often hidden on her back behind tattooed skin. They weren't enough to let her fly away, though.

"We knew each other back home," she clarifies, then shakes her head. She can't tell this girl everything, or really anything, though the urge is there. Maybe because just looking at her is like looking at someone who would know, who would understand the struggle of being a mutant in a city wherein so few are. "I'm sorry. It's just... it's a lot to take in."

"Angel," I repeat, an ironic smile tugging at the corner of my lips. More winged creatures, much more fantastical than birds. "Halo and all?" I can't help but ask. I don't realize how terrible that sounds until I say it, and I wince. "Sorry. Forget I said that. Tact and I don't often get along."

"I can imagine," I repeat softly, chewing on my bottom lip. I know the feeling too well, happening across an old friend brought suddenly to life again. I think of Tris back home, and I think of Tris in the city now.

"This place sure does love its sick sense of humor," I say, shaking my own head in turn.

No halo, Raven thinks, though she only smiles a tight, forced smile. Just the wings.

It's hard to look Christina in the eyes and not see her lost friend, her fellow mutant who was pulled apart and dissected for so-called science. A girl whose only crime, really, was being different, and wanting to be with people who were the same.

It's harder to hold resentment for Angel for leaving them all now that she's gone. "Oh, believe me," Raven manages, relaxing a little with a breath of a laugh. "I know."

I know that smile. I know it too well. I've seen it countless times before. On Tris. Four. Will.

I wonder how much I'm hurting her, simply standing here in front of her. I don't know what I would do if I came across an exact replica of Will. Probably lose my goddamn mind. This girl, who reminds me, with her forced smile and bright smile, of Tris, is holding up remarkably well, all things considered.

"Been here long then?" I venture to ask, offering her a smile once I see her relax a little.

"More than a year," Raven says, counting back and feeling surprised that it's been so long. "Last May."

So much has changed since then and yet so much has stayed the same. She feels like she's accomplished nothing, really, still working at the same lame waitressing job and keeping secrets.

But they're getting better, she thinks, and she's met the most wonderful people. They almost, almost make up for all of the hurt. And the hate that Sean and the like feel for her. "You?"

"Well," I reply, letting out a low whistle. "Jesus, that's something. Seems like a long time to be trapped in one place."

So much can happen in such a span of time. So much can fall apart, crumble, break - fall into decay. I'm only further impressed by this girl's resilience.

"I've been here since July," I say, shaking my head. "It seems so much longer than that."

"Sometimes it feels like I just arrived," Raven counters. It comes in waves, though, depending on how 'trapped' she feels. Most days she's fine, her sense of restlessness more internal than external, but others she misses being able to travel. Others she lets her mind float back to Oxford or Westchester County and the worry that she'll never see them again. "But I know what you mean. I... think it gets easier. Do you have people from home, here? That helps."

"I'm lucky," I say, when she inquires whether I have people from home here with me. Of course, as grateful as I am to live in a city with my best friend, it doesn't make the fact of her death in the world outside ache any less. Really, it only seems to hurt more, especially when I try to keep it to myself. She shouldn't have to worry about stuff like that. "I have my best friend and her boyfriend with me. How about you?"

Traveling slow with broken boats heading for the sky and I'm an island.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject