(perceiver) clarissa lennox (clarum) wrote in beyond_evo, @ 2019-04-07 11:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | empath, perceiver |
I'M WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST (Open!)
Clarissa’s life was like playing Russian Roulette all the time, non-stop. Even the most mundane and repetitive tasks like eating, showering, or doing homework could suddenly be interrupted by gut-churning taste, ear-splitting screams, or nostril-burning smells. And that was before she got the last two senses, of course. Maybe somewhere someone stupid would suggest that once Clar got used to it, it wouldn’t be so bad, but that was ridiculous. You couldn’t prepare for something you had no idea was coming. Clar’s life was actually worse than Russian Roulette when she thought about it: she was constantly staring down the barrel of a gun without any control over pulling the trigger. She couldn’t even tense up and summon up the courage to do anything. She just had to take her licks, over and over.
Since getting to Xavier’s things had changed a bit, but not really that much. People understood here, and that was a major thing in its own right. No more people thinking she was crazy (besides Andie, who was crazy herself in her own way), but still not much to be done. Somehow the mental shields aspect that aided Telepaths and Empaths wasn’t quite clicking for her, if it was even possible. Still, there’d be minute progress, and having a safer space in which to go crazy was its own benefit. Maybe she’d luck out and R&D would solve something, or her power adviser would devise a method so weird that Andie couldn’t think of it, and that’d be that. She’d be free.
Hah.
Even watching TV on a Sunday afternoon in a rec room wasn’t meant to be. She’d meant to be doing homework, but she couldn’t concentrate. Too tired, too burnt out, she’d let her essay slip from her lap to the spot on the couch beside her and leaned back, closing her eyes. The unseen forces in her mutation could practically be accused of lying in wait, because not five seconds after Clar felt herself relax was when it started. A blood-curdling shriek of pain and horror had her jumped up in terror, eyes wide and alert. That was when the all too familiar scent of thick smoke and burning flesh filled her nostrils, and her stomach lurched because there was nothing worse than a house fire — and then she tasted it too, the thick ash on her tongue, cloying in her thought and nose and she couldn’t escape and —
She half-fell-half-stumbled off the couch, and crawled the last few agonizing distances for the garbage can beside the coffee table before dry-heaving once. Twice. On the third she couldn't keep it down.
God, she hated her life.