on a quick sick rampage

[Fenris]

Ivy's face didn't change, didn't react, not at all. She raised an eyebrow, as if to say "are you done?"

Inside, though.

Her inner voice whispered to her. Reminders. Years and years of endless practiced notes and melodies. Her voice was a gift, she'd been told, by her teachers, by her friends, by her father, but it rang hollow, the windup voice of an automaton. Just like everything else she did, practiced steps and damning praise and still she kept going, as though it meant, something, anything. And maybe it did, when she sang to herself, alone in the quiet of her room, but in front of others? She was cold metal.

She hated him. God she fucking hated him. She hated his stupid smug face and the way he looked at her like this was all amusing and the way his voice mocked her with tone and words and melody. She hated his hair and his clothes and his smile and the way she swore his eyes for a moment turned to something close to pity. It was hard to believe that a scant few minutes before he'd been a welcome face in a cacophonous sea, that she'd happily and willingly followed him into this room alone, that she'd been so willing to listen.

More than anything she hated how much she was letting this stupid bullshit get to her! She should have shrugged it off, given him the biting comment he so clearly expected and let it go. Instead her eyes just followed after him, locked on his, as he left the room, as he spoke. She at least had the composure and presence of mind to keep her expression blank, faintly bored, unimpressed with his lines. "I can see cracks in the mask. Letting mine down upset you." Seriously? What kind of tryhard bullshit? It was funny, really. Yeah, it was funny. It was all the funniest thing.

She was going to crush him. She was going to make him regret every fucking word.

His voice wasn't even that good. A million obnoxious indie dudebros could rip that whiny emotionality out of their vocal cords when pressed, it was meaningless, why was she dwelling on it so much? Who the fuck cared? She should let him go and forget about all of this, ignore him if he passed her in the halls again, he'd clearly made his allegiance known, he could hardly be surprised that their cordial acquaintanceship would no longer be such. It didn't matter, it didn't matter, it didn't matter, none of it mattered, this was all stupid this was all so fucking stupid but somehow his ridiculous remark had slipped right between her ribs and her defenses couldn't shield her from a knife that had already struck and god why were days allowed to be like this her head was pounding and her phone was buzzing and

It was fine. It was fine! It was fucking fine. Plans were already working themselves out in her head. Tyrell Lahti was nobody. A big and possibly dangerous nobody, maybe, but nobody nonetheless. Easily disposed of, in a social sense, anyway. He wasn't worth the space it took Ivy's mind to process her hatred.

The bell had rung. She had another class. She'd text Bret, or Wyatt, or both. They'd figure something out.

For just a moment, though, Ivy closed her eyes. For a moment her legs wobbled beneath her. For a moment, for only a moment, she let a few, shameful tears fall.

Then she was herself again, and she slipped through the door, expressionless.

>> Ivy Langley continued in Animal Magnetism