Un-Settling? [For Kari, Lemongrass]

The only thing he had on him upon arrival were the clothes that clung to his back with their thinly worn fabrics, and the gun that he'd managed to tuck into the belt of his pants before being dragged away. It had occurred to him at several points that likely slipping away and heading back was a possibility. If it weren't for the damn thing the school had slapped onto his wrist. Never before had Sebastian been shackled down like this before. Invading the police for years had been as easy as inhaling breath into his lungs, a second nature. But these freaks seemed to be able to track him, and catch him, somehow. As infuriating as it was, the thought that there wasn't anything to go back to at some point flitted through his conscious. Duke and his gang were likely pissed by an incomplete assignment. Someone was still alive and it was Seb's fault. Not to mention that the one person who might had missed his absence for anything more than the constant abuse of his gifts had fallen to a bullet himself not long before whatever the hell this was.

Many years ago the loneliness might have constricted his young heart, but stone doesn't register feelings. Sebastian had simply stared at the sidewalk after Jordyn's death. That was enough grief. It had never stopped him before. At 7 years old, already learning to live on the streets at such an innocent age, his sister had died in his arms on a particularly bitter cold night. He'd sobbed for almost a week, nearly starving, before one of the local thugs pulled him into their hangout. And he'd never shed a tear since. It did nothing, fixed nothing, was merely a waste of time. So, as directionless as he was, Sebastian had found a certain constricting peace in his own solace. Nothing was certain or lasting, hardly even the bleak thoughts that flitted through his own head.

The worn over sized hoodie that adorned his rather lanky frame went just past his palms and he found himself fiddling with the lose strands that had been frayed at some point long ago. Sebastian would never admit his nerves or recognize them beyond the unnamed sensation that crossed his mind, but damn if being around people didn't make him fucking anxious. His jaw tightened the further he walked into the school. Without a doubt the staff would be keeping an eye on him. And given his lack of experience with other kids his age, there wasn't much he knew about playing nice with others. Street life had taught him to solve problems with a swift hand and a knife. Words were preemptive garbage and worth about as much shit as littered the ally ways back home. As he thought about it, the boy almost laughed out loud. Except, he wasn't one for humor. It came out something akin to a mildly amused grunt. Seb had never called anywhere home. The worn mattress in the basement of the Hole, the headquarters for Duke's underground activities, had been the closest he ever had. Most fifteen-year olds lived in nice warm, neat houses. He played with drugs on a dirty mattress.

As soon as someone stepped in behind him, Sebastian whirled around at the feeling of eyes penetrating his threadbare adornments. Searching for a sense of peace, his hand played with the outline of the semi-automatic weapon as he fought the urge to blend like some pathetic pussy. Instead he met the eyes of a girl who stared back at him. For a moment he froze, but it was only a split second before his words broke through the silence that cracked uneasily between them, "What the fuck do you want?"

A small dashing of dirt sprinkled onto the floor of Beata's hallways, and a quick hand reached to stop the spill. Several tiny plant pots were clutched together by small pale arms, as if they were the most important thing in the world. From them grew little bonsai trees, green and flourishing, their little clay holders clinked together as their caretaker pattered through the halls. It was a girl, green-haired and unbelievably clumsy. Her fast feet were housed in glorified slippers, easy to take off in case the chance arose. Dirt from her plant pots was scattered over her orange tank top, falling to the floor, and marking her trail like breadcrumbs. Fern took a deep breath and shifted her arm to check her watch, careful not to drop any of her plant friends. It's okay... I have time...

The long hallways of Beata reminded Fern somewhat of the musty alleys of the slums. The very feet that propelled her forward now, had saved her many a time in that punk-like cityscape. Fern closed her eyes briefly to remember a specific urban night. One year ago, a knife in her hand, and blood on her palms. A body laid out before her, dead or dying. Fern didn't know which. Had she killed him? Was that his blood, or hers? The memory hurt like a fire, but the green-haired girl forced herself deeper into it. She had to remember, had to tell herself what she had done. She would never let herself forget, Fern didn't deserve that kind of mercy.

But her flashback ceased, and Fern remembered. Satisfied with the result, she continued skipping through the halls. Her hazel eyes revealed nothing of her turmoil, they needed to be clean. The people that walked around the girl were shamefully interesting, and no amount of regret could stain them from her gaze. Fern watched with a pure curiosity, sometimes stopping to stare at a particularly magnificent person, other times turning her head in awe. She wasn't like those around her, and would never climb back to their level. But her thin body wasn't useless, in fact, it seemed capable of propelling her very fast through the school. The plants she clutched in her arms needed sun just as much as she did, and today, Fern was going to take them to the roof, to catch the purest of rays.

Thoughts of the warmth and solace that could be found enchanted Fern, and she let her surroundings fade away. The stairwell was here somewhere, right? The green-haired girl turned a corner and almost crashed into the figure that resided there. Her eyes stretched wide in a mixture of surprise and horror. The man that stood before her was messy and unkempt, brown hair disheveled in a way that made the girl smile. She should have spoken a "sorry" or an "excuse me." But Fern only stood there in awe, staring deep into the boy's eyes for a few seconds. But her gaze traced his arms and found one behind his back. Weapon... Her time in the slums wasn't useless, and Fern knew a threat when she saw one. Not even her naïve nature could override that. She felt her hazel eyes narrow, and Fern took a few defensive steps back. "Roof." The girl could only manage a single word, taking a moment to calm her racing heart, pushing the rush of adrenaline back down. "I was... on my way to the roof." While her voice was strange and sweet, her eyes never left the arm that sat behind the boy's back.