Having finished contacting his sister, still ignorant of why his dad's phone was incapable of performing the exact same function, Lincoln Guenther resumed his aimless webcrawl. He browsed through random memes, social updates, and asked Google questions about absolutely nothing before finally settling in on a cooking channel ran by a pair of college students. His orb continued watching people from its perch on the windowsill, as attentive to them as Lincoln was to his screen. Lot of people out walking their dogs today, was the main takeaway.
As Lincoln watched the pair talk through a chicken pot pie recipe, his thoughts turned to the quarry trip his sister was no doubt enjoying. To the casual viewer it might seem a bit insane that a girl who would die if she overheated would want to run outside on a baking day like this, rather than stay inside and watch a baking video like her brother. But Link knew Mercy: she would probably sit under a tanning lamp just to prove that she could. She'd be a lot more responsible about it now than she used to be, but his twin always made a deal about being a part of things even if it would bite her in the ass later. He could say it was admirable, but she was his big sister so naturally that meant she was a dumbass instead.
Beyond that, the quarry itself still sounded like a really bad idea. Loose cliffs, unexpectedly deep/shallow pools, or just idiots doing drugs and swimming at the same time. Why not just go swimming at the public pool? Yeah, there was a lot of piss, but hobos probably pissed in the quarry or something right? Either way, you were swimming in somebody else's piss. Not his scene, thank you very much.
He did ponder who had been "brave" enough to attend, besides his sister. Lily? Yeah, she was everywhere, that was her thing. Kincaid? Dunno, cats and water. Don't cats fall asleep on hot days like this? Jenelle? Yeah, probably go just to push someone into the quarry and watch them drown. He could go on, justifying why everyone else would go. But he had opted to stay at home. No regrets.
He eventually saw a familiar figure coming up through the driveway while still staring at his phone, prompting a raised eyebrow. Why had Mercy come back in just her bikini? Shit, she was already red as a tomato. Was she OK?
He moved to get up and meet her at the door, but she was in too much of a hurry and beat him to it. He caught her already at the foot of the stairs, covered in blood and paint.
"...Yeah, told you." he said through the stunned look on his face.
You are GROUNDED
Guenther household; no uninvited guests please! (Especially you Anatoly)
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((No such luck on the ‘getting a lift’ part of her plan.))
It had been a long shot to begin with, given that nobody who had been down at the quarry could even drive a car, but she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, someone’s parents would have been called to pick them up. But there hadn’t been anyone parked just further up the road, and there hadn’t even been anyone sticking around long enough to give her a shoulder to lean on. Not that she could blame them, though; she was pretty sure she had heard sirens not too far off in the distance. Unless, of course, it had just been Lily pulling another prank, as she was wont to do.
… Actually, even if, say, Mrs. Benson or Mrs. Griffin had been waiting patiently to pick their kids up, Mercedes doubted that either of them would have been hugely thrilled about her tracking blood and paint into their nice clean cars.
The walk of shame back home wasn’t too bad though, all things considering. She was still absolutely baking, even with her parasol, her feet were killing her, and the frequent stops to catch her breath and fan her hand in front of her face only did so much to help. But even on a day as beautiful as today, with Bend as busy and bustling as it could get, people were only giving her glancing looks before continuing on their way. It was a pretty major faux pas to stare at people, anyhow. With Gifts running the gamut from beneficial to active hindrances, people had to dress to accommodate that, and not always in ways that could hide it. After all, you try and disguise the fact you had caterpillar tracks instead of legs, just for one example.
After seeing something like that, a girl covered in paint and blood was barely worth raising an eyebrow at. Bikini or no.
Mercedes had to stop once more as soon as she rounded the corner to her street, hands on her knees, gasping for air. There was a pervasive sense of dread growing inside of her, palpable underneath the static cloud filling her brain. If mom or dad caught her, then she was dead meat, and no manner of explanation would lessen the punishment they brought down upon her. On a cloudier, cooler day, she would have taken a few minutes to case the joint and make sure that all entrances were clear; or, in other words, peeked in through the front window to see if anyone was in the living room.
But every second she wasn’t standing next to the A/C or under a cold shower was a second closer to her passing out; she knew she was close thanks to some very unpleasant personal experiences, back when she’d been less adept at controlling and managing her own body heat. She just needed to book it upstairs, if you could really call speedwalking ‘booking it’.
The front door swung open, Mercy wincing as it clattered against the wall in her haste to get inside. The hallway was clear, though, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the cool wooden floor and welcome sound of the running A/C worked their hardest to beat away the cobwebs tangling up her brain. She made her way to the foot of the stairs, still clutching her parasol (shit, she’d need to clean that as well at some point) when -
“Gh!”
She spun around, immediately regretting her actions as her vision swam and she was hit with a wave of sudden nausea once everything fell back into place. It wasn’t either of her parents standing in front of her like she’d feared, though. That was the important part, although it didn’t make her feel much better right now.
“Don’t fucking scare me like that, Lincoln, Jesus!”
Her arm shot out to the side, palm pressing flat against the wall to steady herself. She was still gasping for air as if she’d just been buried alive, there was a little puddle of sweat on the floor already, and, God, Link’s expression told her everything she needed to know about her appearance right now. The little jibe out of his mouth really didn’t match the shocked look on his face, so she chose to ignore it, gritting her teeth instead as she fought to stay upright.
“And don’t… don’t say a single word to mom or dad… got it?” Mercy hissed, hoping against hope that neither parent would pop their head around the doorway to see what all the fuss was about. “I’ll… I’ll explain all… this… once I’m out of the shower… okay?”
She turned around again, much slower this time, and started up the stairs, looking over her shoulder briefly to spit out one more instruction to her twin brother.
“Not a goddamn thing.”
It had been a long shot to begin with, given that nobody who had been down at the quarry could even drive a car, but she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, someone’s parents would have been called to pick them up. But there hadn’t been anyone parked just further up the road, and there hadn’t even been anyone sticking around long enough to give her a shoulder to lean on. Not that she could blame them, though; she was pretty sure she had heard sirens not too far off in the distance. Unless, of course, it had just been Lily pulling another prank, as she was wont to do.
… Actually, even if, say, Mrs. Benson or Mrs. Griffin had been waiting patiently to pick their kids up, Mercedes doubted that either of them would have been hugely thrilled about her tracking blood and paint into their nice clean cars.
The walk of shame back home wasn’t too bad though, all things considering. She was still absolutely baking, even with her parasol, her feet were killing her, and the frequent stops to catch her breath and fan her hand in front of her face only did so much to help. But even on a day as beautiful as today, with Bend as busy and bustling as it could get, people were only giving her glancing looks before continuing on their way. It was a pretty major faux pas to stare at people, anyhow. With Gifts running the gamut from beneficial to active hindrances, people had to dress to accommodate that, and not always in ways that could hide it. After all, you try and disguise the fact you had caterpillar tracks instead of legs, just for one example.
After seeing something like that, a girl covered in paint and blood was barely worth raising an eyebrow at. Bikini or no.
Mercedes had to stop once more as soon as she rounded the corner to her street, hands on her knees, gasping for air. There was a pervasive sense of dread growing inside of her, palpable underneath the static cloud filling her brain. If mom or dad caught her, then she was dead meat, and no manner of explanation would lessen the punishment they brought down upon her. On a cloudier, cooler day, she would have taken a few minutes to case the joint and make sure that all entrances were clear; or, in other words, peeked in through the front window to see if anyone was in the living room.
But every second she wasn’t standing next to the A/C or under a cold shower was a second closer to her passing out; she knew she was close thanks to some very unpleasant personal experiences, back when she’d been less adept at controlling and managing her own body heat. She just needed to book it upstairs, if you could really call speedwalking ‘booking it’.
The front door swung open, Mercy wincing as it clattered against the wall in her haste to get inside. The hallway was clear, though, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the cool wooden floor and welcome sound of the running A/C worked their hardest to beat away the cobwebs tangling up her brain. She made her way to the foot of the stairs, still clutching her parasol (shit, she’d need to clean that as well at some point) when -
“Gh!”
She spun around, immediately regretting her actions as her vision swam and she was hit with a wave of sudden nausea once everything fell back into place. It wasn’t either of her parents standing in front of her like she’d feared, though. That was the important part, although it didn’t make her feel much better right now.
“Don’t fucking scare me like that, Lincoln, Jesus!”
Her arm shot out to the side, palm pressing flat against the wall to steady herself. She was still gasping for air as if she’d just been buried alive, there was a little puddle of sweat on the floor already, and, God, Link’s expression told her everything she needed to know about her appearance right now. The little jibe out of his mouth really didn’t match the shocked look on his face, so she chose to ignore it, gritting her teeth instead as she fought to stay upright.
“And don’t… don’t say a single word to mom or dad… got it?” Mercy hissed, hoping against hope that neither parent would pop their head around the doorway to see what all the fuss was about. “I’ll… I’ll explain all… this… once I’m out of the shower… okay?”
She turned around again, much slower this time, and started up the stairs, looking over her shoulder briefly to spit out one more instruction to her twin brother.
“Not a goddamn thing.”
Lincoln could only watch as Mercedes staggered to keep her footing. Should he reach out and help her? Or let her stand on her own two feet? He instinctively waited for instruction from his sister, which was then delivered with impatience.
He stood there a second longer, processing the scene that had just unfolded. His orb floated into the room, drawn together as it so often was when he went on autopilot in these tense moments. When Mercedes continued up the stairs, he inhaled sharply through his nose, and swallowed the uncertainty down his throat as he turned back towards the living room, orb following suit.
He slumped back onto the sofa, with even less focus on his phone than there had been before. His orb rested itself on top of his stomach, its presence helping him to relax the tension in his body. He’d been through too many close calls with Mercy’s body heat to just be able to brush off moments like this, even if she acted like it was no big deal. Stubborn enough to sit under a sun lamp or not, that didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing his sister as red as a sunset and on the verge of faceplanting.
It was OK though, he tried to reassure himself. She was at home, the AC was on full blast, and she was heading for the bathroom. She could tell Dad or Mom once she was out of-
SHIT
Even shooting out of his lap like a bullet, his orb was only halfway up the stairs when Maria Guenther started yelling.
Lincoln had neglected to warn his sister that their mother was in the middle of cleaning the shower.
He stood there a second longer, processing the scene that had just unfolded. His orb floated into the room, drawn together as it so often was when he went on autopilot in these tense moments. When Mercedes continued up the stairs, he inhaled sharply through his nose, and swallowed the uncertainty down his throat as he turned back towards the living room, orb following suit.
He slumped back onto the sofa, with even less focus on his phone than there had been before. His orb rested itself on top of his stomach, its presence helping him to relax the tension in his body. He’d been through too many close calls with Mercy’s body heat to just be able to brush off moments like this, even if she acted like it was no big deal. Stubborn enough to sit under a sun lamp or not, that didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing his sister as red as a sunset and on the verge of faceplanting.
It was OK though, he tried to reassure himself. She was at home, the AC was on full blast, and she was heading for the bathroom. She could tell Dad or Mom once she was out of-
SHIT
Even shooting out of his lap like a bullet, his orb was only halfway up the stairs when Maria Guenther started yelling.
Lincoln had neglected to warn his sister that their mother was in the middle of cleaning the shower.
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Maria Guenther didn’t quite break the record for ‘Longest period spent yelling at her children’ - nobody would ever forget the seven and a half minutes of pterodactyl screeching that came about after that time Mercy accidentally burned a hole through the fridge-freezer - but it was a very, very close run thing.
The sound of furious screaming eventually gave way to slamming doors, a brief moment of silence, and then the familiar sound of a running shower, ice cold. A veneer of peace and calm fell over the house again, as the sound of falling water was accompanied by the whirr of the vacuum cleaner, Maria taking her worry-born anger out on the carpets instead. A bird chirped just outside the window of the living room. A dog started barking. Far off in the distance, sirens blared.
Eventually, there was movement on the second-floor landing once again. A pair of feet clomping down the stairs, heavy with fury. And then, once again, Mercedes was here, dressed in her usual attire of a tank top and Daisy Dukes, a scowl firmly fixed onto her face as she made her way into the living room. The dried blood had been all washed away, leaving a nasty looking scar behind, and almost all traces of paint had disappeared too - save for a small streak of bright blue on the underside of her arm, missed during her thorough scrubbing.
“Dickhead.”
Mercy spat the word out at her brother, glaring at him as he reclined on the sofa with his face buried in his phone, orb hovering nearby, looking as caught in two minds as a featureless sphere could, debating within its smooth blank carapace whether it should nestle on the windowsill or float away from potential danger.
“You coulda warned me that mom was cleaning upstairs,” she continued, grabbing her favourite cushion (the one with the subtle burn mark on one corner) out from under Lincoln’s feet. “But no, now I’m grounded for the rest of summer, thanks a lot.”
She threw the cushion towards Lincoln’s face, before striding towards the other couch to collapse onto it, folding her arms, and letting out a deep sigh, and even deeper inhale. Turned out that even an action as small and innocuous as that would chuck another shovel of coal into the furnace inside of her.
“Oh, and I’ve got to wash up after dinner for the next three weeks as well, as if today wasn’t enough of a total shitshow.”
The sound of furious screaming eventually gave way to slamming doors, a brief moment of silence, and then the familiar sound of a running shower, ice cold. A veneer of peace and calm fell over the house again, as the sound of falling water was accompanied by the whirr of the vacuum cleaner, Maria taking her worry-born anger out on the carpets instead. A bird chirped just outside the window of the living room. A dog started barking. Far off in the distance, sirens blared.
Eventually, there was movement on the second-floor landing once again. A pair of feet clomping down the stairs, heavy with fury. And then, once again, Mercedes was here, dressed in her usual attire of a tank top and Daisy Dukes, a scowl firmly fixed onto her face as she made her way into the living room. The dried blood had been all washed away, leaving a nasty looking scar behind, and almost all traces of paint had disappeared too - save for a small streak of bright blue on the underside of her arm, missed during her thorough scrubbing.
“Dickhead.”
Mercy spat the word out at her brother, glaring at him as he reclined on the sofa with his face buried in his phone, orb hovering nearby, looking as caught in two minds as a featureless sphere could, debating within its smooth blank carapace whether it should nestle on the windowsill or float away from potential danger.
“You coulda warned me that mom was cleaning upstairs,” she continued, grabbing her favourite cushion (the one with the subtle burn mark on one corner) out from under Lincoln’s feet. “But no, now I’m grounded for the rest of summer, thanks a lot.”
She threw the cushion towards Lincoln’s face, before striding towards the other couch to collapse onto it, folding her arms, and letting out a deep sigh, and even deeper inhale. Turned out that even an action as small and innocuous as that would chuck another shovel of coal into the furnace inside of her.
“Oh, and I’ve got to wash up after dinner for the next three weeks as well, as if today wasn’t enough of a total shitshow.”
Lincoln spent the period of civil family discussion with his ass glued to the sofa, as it had been all afternoon, face buried safely in his phone screen while his orb floated nervously about the room. He started scanning social media for facts on what had happened, but apart from some photos around the quarry that all seemed to stop at the same time, it was hard to get a real sense of what was going on.
“Guess your sister’s home.” Desmond Guenther called from the doorway, looking up the stairs with a similar level of apprehension to Lincoln’s. “What happened?” he asked, to which his son could only shrug in response.
“Something at the quarry? I don’t know.”
“The where?” his father responded, a look of alarm on his face. “What was she doing there?”
Realising that he probably had inadvertently put his sister in even hotter water, Lincoln responded with another defensive shrug. “I don’t know! I’ve been here all day!”
Desmond could only grumble in frustration, but tactically chose to remain downstairs for the time being and left his son with an instruction to go outside and get some fresh air already. He would get the details from his wife later.
Mercedes returned before Lincoln could do so, despite the fact that he had been so darn eager to move off the couch. Getting away from his sister probably would’ve been the safer choice though, as her first word on seeing him indicated.
“What did I do?!” Lincoln defensively retorted to the dickhead comment, only to look back at his phone to avoid guilty eye contact. His orb dithered in place as he cautiously watched his sister.
“Fuck off!” he shouted as the cushion flew at his face. Of course he had seen it coming, hand already raised to swat it away, but it was still a very unwelcome and hostile gesture. Mercy’s piercing stare only made him feel more uncomfortable.
“What was I supposed to do? You ran upstairs before I could say anything.” he said, not mentioning the fact that he had actually forgotten where their mom was. That would’ve been the better excuse, but it also would’ve put the blame on his shoulders instead of hers. The first rule of being twins, and indeed it applied to all siblings, was that it was always their fault if they got busted, not yours. Getting grounded for the whole summer did suck, and Lincoln was already feeling guilty about that, but again, he wasn’t responsible for it. Yeah, not entirely.
“What happened, anyway? Lots of shitposts online, but no-one’s said anything solid.”
“Guess your sister’s home.” Desmond Guenther called from the doorway, looking up the stairs with a similar level of apprehension to Lincoln’s. “What happened?” he asked, to which his son could only shrug in response.
“Something at the quarry? I don’t know.”
“The where?” his father responded, a look of alarm on his face. “What was she doing there?”
Realising that he probably had inadvertently put his sister in even hotter water, Lincoln responded with another defensive shrug. “I don’t know! I’ve been here all day!”
Desmond could only grumble in frustration, but tactically chose to remain downstairs for the time being and left his son with an instruction to go outside and get some fresh air already. He would get the details from his wife later.
Mercedes returned before Lincoln could do so, despite the fact that he had been so darn eager to move off the couch. Getting away from his sister probably would’ve been the safer choice though, as her first word on seeing him indicated.
“What did I do?!” Lincoln defensively retorted to the dickhead comment, only to look back at his phone to avoid guilty eye contact. His orb dithered in place as he cautiously watched his sister.
“Fuck off!” he shouted as the cushion flew at his face. Of course he had seen it coming, hand already raised to swat it away, but it was still a very unwelcome and hostile gesture. Mercy’s piercing stare only made him feel more uncomfortable.
“What was I supposed to do? You ran upstairs before I could say anything.” he said, not mentioning the fact that he had actually forgotten where their mom was. That would’ve been the better excuse, but it also would’ve put the blame on his shoulders instead of hers. The first rule of being twins, and indeed it applied to all siblings, was that it was always their fault if they got busted, not yours. Getting grounded for the whole summer did suck, and Lincoln was already feeling guilty about that, but again, he wasn’t responsible for it. Yeah, not entirely.
“What happened, anyway? Lots of shitposts online, but no-one’s said anything solid.”
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Mercy’s initial response, one that covered both of Lincoln’s first and second questions, was to flip him off before rummaging around in the sofa for the TV remote. She was goddamn certain that her brother knew exactly what he had done, or in this case, what he had failed miserably to do. It would have been so simple to have just hissed out a warning before she reached the second floor landing, or, jeez, even just to have made his orb block the stairs, but nope.
She would have called it ‘damage limitation’, but that didn’t quite match her brother’s worldview. No, Lincoln, if he could help it, never even got as far as the damage zone; ‘danger avoidance’ was a much more fitting term. He stayed out of trouble, didn’t try to go searching for it, and kept his head low at all times. Course, that meant that whenever he did run into an unavoidable problem he was always on the back foot, but that just gave Mercedes more incentive to keep a close eye on him and take the reins when things were looking hairy. And, of course, it meant that he totally avoided situations like the warzone at the quarry today.
Mercedes exhaled again, and her body loosened up slightly, her shoulders relaxing, just a touch.
She still didn’t respond to Lincoln’s final question, though, choosing instead to switch the TV on and flick mindlessly through the channels, eventually coming to rest on something that looked vaguely like a nature documentary, narrated by someone who desperately wanted to be the next David Attenborough. She glanced at the screen, not paying attention in the slightest, only using the program as background noise and a wall of sound between them and their parents.
“Kincaid and David set it all off,” Mercy began, still looking towards the TV. “You know them, right? Catboy and the asshole with, uh, shiny blood? They got into a fight over something or other, I dunno what, and started flinging rocks at each other. Course, that just meant that other people got hit in the process, and soon enough there were just rocks flying everywhere.”
She huffed and turned her head, pointing at the deep maroon scar gashed across her temple.
“Got this from trying to wade in and break the fight up. I dunno who hit me, they probably weren’t even aiming for me, just some kid caught up in the frenzy of it all. The paint, though…”
She scowled, finally looking at Lincoln, the dried splattering of paint unintentionally perfectly visible as she spoke.
“That little squirrel bastard rolled up with a bike and a paintball gun and started spraying everyone in the area. Tried to stop him too, and, well, you saw what I got for my troubles. Asshole. Stupid goddamn asshole, I was trying to help Austin too, with Kyle and Kaine, and…”
She trailed off, face like thunder, looking back at the screen, just in time to see a very tiny frog consume a poor, unsuspecting insect whole.
“Someone called the cops and everyone ran pretty shortly after, but, Jesus, someone could have been real badly hurt.”
She would have called it ‘damage limitation’, but that didn’t quite match her brother’s worldview. No, Lincoln, if he could help it, never even got as far as the damage zone; ‘danger avoidance’ was a much more fitting term. He stayed out of trouble, didn’t try to go searching for it, and kept his head low at all times. Course, that meant that whenever he did run into an unavoidable problem he was always on the back foot, but that just gave Mercedes more incentive to keep a close eye on him and take the reins when things were looking hairy. And, of course, it meant that he totally avoided situations like the warzone at the quarry today.
Mercedes exhaled again, and her body loosened up slightly, her shoulders relaxing, just a touch.
She still didn’t respond to Lincoln’s final question, though, choosing instead to switch the TV on and flick mindlessly through the channels, eventually coming to rest on something that looked vaguely like a nature documentary, narrated by someone who desperately wanted to be the next David Attenborough. She glanced at the screen, not paying attention in the slightest, only using the program as background noise and a wall of sound between them and their parents.
“Kincaid and David set it all off,” Mercy began, still looking towards the TV. “You know them, right? Catboy and the asshole with, uh, shiny blood? They got into a fight over something or other, I dunno what, and started flinging rocks at each other. Course, that just meant that other people got hit in the process, and soon enough there were just rocks flying everywhere.”
She huffed and turned her head, pointing at the deep maroon scar gashed across her temple.
“Got this from trying to wade in and break the fight up. I dunno who hit me, they probably weren’t even aiming for me, just some kid caught up in the frenzy of it all. The paint, though…”
She scowled, finally looking at Lincoln, the dried splattering of paint unintentionally perfectly visible as she spoke.
“That little squirrel bastard rolled up with a bike and a paintball gun and started spraying everyone in the area. Tried to stop him too, and, well, you saw what I got for my troubles. Asshole. Stupid goddamn asshole, I was trying to help Austin too, with Kyle and Kaine, and…”
She trailed off, face like thunder, looking back at the screen, just in time to see a very tiny frog consume a poor, unsuspecting insect whole.
“Someone called the cops and everyone ran pretty shortly after, but, Jesus, someone could have been real badly hurt.”
The moments Lincoln spent processing all this felt like weeks. More than just stepping in to break up a fight, Mercy had tried to break up a literal war zone, with projectiles and guns on the scene. So much for a chill swim at the quarry.
“Yeah, no shit.” he replied to her last comment, focusing on her new scar. His eyes then moved downwards to give his sister the look. It was no match for their mother’s version, of course, but he felt entitled to give it a try under the circumstances.
“Jesus, Mercy, you could’ve been killed or something. Why didn’t you just run for it when you had a chance? Kincaid’s a bitch, you know? You didn’t have to try and break it up.”
It wasn’t that Lincoln didn’t appreciate his sister’s boldness, or trying to stop other people from maiming each other. He just didn’t want to find out she’d lost an eye or her brain had melted in the process. His orb continued to hover nearby, edging nervously closer to Mercy.
“And Crispin’s a bigger bitch. I mean, who shoots paintballs at people for fun? Psychopaths, yeah, that’s who.”
Seriously. He’d have to have a word with Squirrel Fuck about what he did. Or rather he’d like to, if Crispin wasn’t part of the ‘stay-the-fuck-away’ crowd. God only knows how he’d react to someone calling him out on his bullshit, but it would probably involve pain. He preferred to avoid pain, something he evidently didn’t have in common with his sister.
“Look, I’m just- I don’t like seeing you get hurt, you know? Or like you're about to pass out, or shit.”
His fingers tightened around his phone, pressing into the metal back.
“Yeah, no shit.” he replied to her last comment, focusing on her new scar. His eyes then moved downwards to give his sister the look. It was no match for their mother’s version, of course, but he felt entitled to give it a try under the circumstances.
“Jesus, Mercy, you could’ve been killed or something. Why didn’t you just run for it when you had a chance? Kincaid’s a bitch, you know? You didn’t have to try and break it up.”
It wasn’t that Lincoln didn’t appreciate his sister’s boldness, or trying to stop other people from maiming each other. He just didn’t want to find out she’d lost an eye or her brain had melted in the process. His orb continued to hover nearby, edging nervously closer to Mercy.
“And Crispin’s a bigger bitch. I mean, who shoots paintballs at people for fun? Psychopaths, yeah, that’s who.”
Seriously. He’d have to have a word with Squirrel Fuck about what he did. Or rather he’d like to, if Crispin wasn’t part of the ‘stay-the-fuck-away’ crowd. God only knows how he’d react to someone calling him out on his bullshit, but it would probably involve pain. He preferred to avoid pain, something he evidently didn’t have in common with his sister.
“Look, I’m just- I don’t like seeing you get hurt, you know? Or like you're about to pass out, or shit.”
His fingers tightened around his phone, pressing into the metal back.
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Mercy was on the verge of snapping back at her brother, her own fingers digging into the cushion on the couch as her eyes imitated her palms and burned holes into the TV screen. Speaking of being a goddamn copycat, she had caught that look Link had given her, out of the corner of her vision. He’d clearly been practicing, but she’d already caught that glare once today, and his didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Still, though, she was sorely tempted to hurl another pillow right at his dumb face.
Because, really, what was she supposed to have done? Just walk past Austin and leave him writhing on the floor to fend for himself? As if she wasn’t at odds enough with the Greene family already. And had Lincoln really expected her to do nothing when Crispin had rolled up, just let the asshole take potshots at everyone while she scurried away to flee the sinking ship? He’d said it himself, the squirrel bitch was a psycho, and Mercedes wasn’t prepared to let him stand unopposed while he tried to ruin everyone else’s day.
Her hand twitched as Lincoln’s orb hovered closer towards her, instinct yelling at her to swat it out of the air like a large, luminous fly. She’d done something similar when she was younger and more hot-headed, just grabbed the thing and spun it around as hard as she could. She thought the aftermath of that might have been the first time she really grasped exactly what the connection between her brother and his orb was.
It'd go some way to explaining why she got so defensive whenever anyone made any sort of wisecrack about messing with his Gift.
Mercedes felt her shoulders loosen and her expression soften, still looking steadfastly towards the TV. She exhaled, absent-mindedly picking at a loose thread hanging from one edge of the nearest cushion.
“I know,” she muttered.
Because how could she not? She felt the exact same way about him; any situation that seemed like it might lead to him getting hurt, and Mercy was already halfway out the door to check up on him and drag him away if needs must. She’d spent the evening before his first judo class making absolutely certain he was fine with participating, and offering to go along with him, just in case. She fussed and fretted over her brother whenever he got even the smallest bruise or tiniest cut, and here she was with a gash on her forehead, one that had been oozing blood just a few minutes ago.
“That’s why I always get into fights whenever you’re not around.”
The tone of her voice didn’t quite match her words, and guilt carved its way across her heart. She still thought – hell, no, she knew for a fact - that she’d done the right thing back in the quarry, and faced with the same situation again, 100 times out of 100 she’d do exactly the same thing, react exactly the same way, say exactly the same shit. But she really couldn’t bear to see – to hear just how concerned Link was about her safety.
“Hey, but, look, I’m fine, all right? I’m okay.”
She tried to speak firmly, to keep her voice as even as possible and leave no room for doubt, but she couldn’t hide the softness that crept its way into her tone.
“I’m not bleeding anymore, the cut wasn’t deep or anything, and I wasn’t in any danger of passing out at all. Like, I know it’s blazing out, but I wasn’t gonna leave the house without my parasol or plenty of water, I spent the whole time in that, like, rainwater lake until everything kicked off too. Never even thought about, y’know, blasting anything… not that, uh, not that there was any reason for me to, of course, God, I don’t wanna think about how ugly the situation would’ve had to be for that to happen… but, uh…”
Mercy shook her hand and her head, trying to get herself back on track.
“But that’s neither here nor there, okay? I’m good. I’m fine. I’m safe.”
She fell silent, and her head notably dropped. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, huddled in one corner and looking down on her lap.
“I can look after myself. I can protect myself from bad shit. But there’s a ton of people, kids in our class, who can’t do that, or won’t, for whatever reason, like, like maybe their Gift has left them really messed up, or they’re scared of what might happen if they don’t keep it under wraps, or they’re just a total wreck because assholes won’t let up making fun of them for it, whatever. Doesn’t matter why they can’t stand up for themselves. I’m not prepared to let anyone get trampled underfoot because of it.”
Because, really, what was she supposed to have done? Just walk past Austin and leave him writhing on the floor to fend for himself? As if she wasn’t at odds enough with the Greene family already. And had Lincoln really expected her to do nothing when Crispin had rolled up, just let the asshole take potshots at everyone while she scurried away to flee the sinking ship? He’d said it himself, the squirrel bitch was a psycho, and Mercedes wasn’t prepared to let him stand unopposed while he tried to ruin everyone else’s day.
Her hand twitched as Lincoln’s orb hovered closer towards her, instinct yelling at her to swat it out of the air like a large, luminous fly. She’d done something similar when she was younger and more hot-headed, just grabbed the thing and spun it around as hard as she could. She thought the aftermath of that might have been the first time she really grasped exactly what the connection between her brother and his orb was.
It'd go some way to explaining why she got so defensive whenever anyone made any sort of wisecrack about messing with his Gift.
Mercedes felt her shoulders loosen and her expression soften, still looking steadfastly towards the TV. She exhaled, absent-mindedly picking at a loose thread hanging from one edge of the nearest cushion.
“I know,” she muttered.
Because how could she not? She felt the exact same way about him; any situation that seemed like it might lead to him getting hurt, and Mercy was already halfway out the door to check up on him and drag him away if needs must. She’d spent the evening before his first judo class making absolutely certain he was fine with participating, and offering to go along with him, just in case. She fussed and fretted over her brother whenever he got even the smallest bruise or tiniest cut, and here she was with a gash on her forehead, one that had been oozing blood just a few minutes ago.
“That’s why I always get into fights whenever you’re not around.”
The tone of her voice didn’t quite match her words, and guilt carved its way across her heart. She still thought – hell, no, she knew for a fact - that she’d done the right thing back in the quarry, and faced with the same situation again, 100 times out of 100 she’d do exactly the same thing, react exactly the same way, say exactly the same shit. But she really couldn’t bear to see – to hear just how concerned Link was about her safety.
“Hey, but, look, I’m fine, all right? I’m okay.”
She tried to speak firmly, to keep her voice as even as possible and leave no room for doubt, but she couldn’t hide the softness that crept its way into her tone.
“I’m not bleeding anymore, the cut wasn’t deep or anything, and I wasn’t in any danger of passing out at all. Like, I know it’s blazing out, but I wasn’t gonna leave the house without my parasol or plenty of water, I spent the whole time in that, like, rainwater lake until everything kicked off too. Never even thought about, y’know, blasting anything… not that, uh, not that there was any reason for me to, of course, God, I don’t wanna think about how ugly the situation would’ve had to be for that to happen… but, uh…”
Mercy shook her hand and her head, trying to get herself back on track.
“But that’s neither here nor there, okay? I’m good. I’m fine. I’m safe.”
She fell silent, and her head notably dropped. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, huddled in one corner and looking down on her lap.
“I can look after myself. I can protect myself from bad shit. But there’s a ton of people, kids in our class, who can’t do that, or won’t, for whatever reason, like, like maybe their Gift has left them really messed up, or they’re scared of what might happen if they don’t keep it under wraps, or they’re just a total wreck because assholes won’t let up making fun of them for it, whatever. Doesn’t matter why they can’t stand up for themselves. I’m not prepared to let anyone get trampled underfoot because of it.”