WHERE: The Barracks WHEN: [Backdated] Right after the mission WHAT: Sandy's drained, Orla's wrong place, wrong time. STATUS: Complete VIEW WARNINGS: Snarking, misconceptions, power use
The mission, for all intents and purposes, had been a success. They had saved the kids and taken down the bad guys and there had been minimal casualties. When theyâd gotten the kids back to Handlers Frost and Page, they both even looked like they were pleased with what had happened - even though Sandy had heard that theyâd not doubted for a second that things would go well. Frost had an alarming amount of faith in the team. That being said, she had been blindsided by just how loud it had all been, even when they first stepped out of the portal, Sandy had managed to locate the children and communicate with Vasily, but they were close to Baton Rouge; the city was large and had a lot of people and therefore a lot of minds. Sandy hadnât been exposed to so much in a long time and her head was sore.
When the fighting had started, sheâd ended up pressed against a stack of crates and it wasnât until Ash told her to focus on her and she hummed some kind of soothing song that meant Sandy could focus on that, and that alone, push the terrified thoughts out of her head and she helped Jade guide the children to safety.
So the mission had been a success but Sandy had almost passed out by the time they were leaving and so as she stumbled blindly back towards the barracks - having shrugged off the offer of help from some that had been on the mission (I can do it myself) like a petulant and embarrassed teenager who didnât want to admit that they needed even more help, she could feel the pressure that was associated with a nosebleed.
Sleeve covering under her nose, she rubbed at her eyes and walked through the door of the agent housing, straight into a head of hair that ended up with her swaying on the spot and blinking owlishly at the back of someoneâs head. Oh. Wait. Orlaâs head. She was too tired to summon up anger, but she did have enough wherewithal to consider telling the other agent that she better not be going to Wingsâ room. Because that was where Sandy was headed.
âSorry,â she mumbled, still stemming the bleed from her nose, even though it had just about stopped.
Getting used to Limbo was annoyingly easy for Orla. Being displaced most of her life, leaving home young, existing for herself and by herself, sheâd hopped around rather a lot before New York and settling. Adjusting to life in the compound was just a matter of getting used to people again, New York was full of them, yes, but by and large they werenât the type to stop and talk to you in the halls. Coupled with the reintroduction of Orla and her step-sister and baby sister?
Conflicted was putting it lightly.
She was on her way back from a training session in the hologym, since Carson and Kingfisher liked to make sure none of them were going to drop dead on a mission from ineptitude, Orla opted to try a few drills herself. It meant her hair was currently emulated in namesake. It was almost automatic, when she felt someone stumble behind her, that her hair would move for support.
Until she realised it was Sandy, and then everything froze. The apology was unusual from the telepath, it wasnât as biting as the usual remark like it was Orlaâs fault for being in the space that Sandy wanted to be. âItâs-- Are you okay?â The nosebleed was had to miss, and with Calvin having just been sent to solitary for an altercation, she figured it was entirely possible that someone had riled up Sandy into something too.
Sandy didnât even have the energy to snap. She just gave the older woman a disbelieving and heavily sarcastic look that seemed to say âdo I look like Iâm okay?â without the words being vocalised audibly or telepathically. She dropped her sleeve from her nose and looked at it, there was blood covering the edge and it looked pretty messy. Gross. Pressing her hand to her nose gingerly, it seemed that the blood had stopped for now, so that at least was something, but she was kind of covered in gross now and she didnât want to go back to her room, she just wanted to go and crawl into Alejandroâs arms and sleep for a bit.
âMust be stupid question day,â she grumbled, âbut Iâm fine.â Not that Orla cared. Orla hated them. Hated that theyâd gotten Alejandro stuck in this place. Hated that they got him in trouble but no one had asked her for her opinion. Orlaâs mind was another one that sheâd promised Alejandro she wouldnât just go in without permission. She respected him, so she hadnât done. Though it was tempting. So tempting.
She moved back a little, intending on just walking around Orla and heading up the stairs but she stumbled a little, catching herself on the wall.
âOh yeah, totally, youâre fine.â Orla rolled her eyes, trying to remember if sheâd ever been like this as a child -and sheâd had one of those spoiled cliche upbringings to start with, with the maids and the nannyâs, money coming out her ears. Sure, mommy was gone and the wicked step-bitch brought in her perfect, sweet little psycho children, but most people focused on the fact that Orla grew up with money, which must mean that Orla grew up pampered.
Moving behind Sandy, Orla used her hair to direct the other woman rather than her hands -her hair would grow back, her hands wouldnât if Sandy tried to chop them off in her righteous outrage. âYou know, fine rarely involves nosebleeds, or looking like you got hit by a truck. Or hey, that zombie-no-sleep-til-bust thing youâve got going on, totally looks fine.â
The stairs were a nightmare sometimes -obviously, Orla had to live near the top, because obviously her life wasnât filled with enough climbing. But she figured that if she went on her way, which she would like to, really, dealing with Sandyâs attitude was always a drain, even without feeling the girls emotions, Orla got the resentment and distrust and occasional pure hatred loud and clear without being an empath right there. But- her leaving Sandy there, right now, in this state, might mean the girl just curled up on a landing and passed out. And that wasnât good for anyone.
âWhose room are you heading to? Yours? Calvinâs? Alejandroâs?â Sheâd wait until Sandy was at least on the floor she needed before she left, just to be sure the stumbling was going to be taken care of.
Sandyâs eyes cut to Orla as her hair reached out and touched her. The prehensile hair thing was so awesome but Sandy was psychologically opposed to hating anything to do with Orla and so she just tried to shrink away. She was unsuccessful though and honestly even if she didnât want to admit it the support was nice. Her legs did feel like they were going to give out. She just needed to get to Wings. Once she got there, everything would be okay.
âI canât go to Calâs room,â she responded, âheâs in solitary.â Which was partly why she was such a wreck in the first place. Rachel understood now, at least, how difficult it was for her when she couldnât find someone to use as an anchor, and the sheer amount of noise rattling around her head when theyâd been on the mission was enough to have made her feel like her brain would explode. âIâm going to Alejandroâs room,â she told Orla and her tone indicated that she would be going into the room alone and therefore if Orla wanted to see Alejandro tonight, she couldnât.
She didnât think sheâd stay there, sheâd stumble back to her own room later, but she just needed something familiar and comforting and safe because despite the fact that she always tried to be brave and show that nothing rattled her, being sent on a mission had terrified her. She might never have been in mortal danger - there were some really capable fighters there - but it had still been scary. It had been frightening and she just wanted something that would make her feel like everything was okay in the world.
âAnd if youâd just had the fucking minds of an entire city and a bunch of scared babies pushing at your head, youâd feel pretty shitty too.â
Third floor to drop off the adult who acted like a teenager, check. There was enough of Orlaâs hair at the moment that she could direct and support Sandy on the way up the stairs, minimise how much energy the girl had to expel, and Orla just needed to keep her alert until she could drop her off with Alejandro.
âWhen did that happen? What happened?â She wasnât exactly âin the loopâ when it came to the so-called âOutsidersâ (and donât get her started on that, she wouldnât stop and it would just be messy), so finding out that not only was one of them parted from the newly reformed (mostly) group, but it was Calvin, who Orla was aware Sandy relied most upon for her mental stability, that was news that caused one tendril of hair to automatically try to give Sandy a comforting pat until Orla slapped it down.
Sandy barely tolerated her, so she wasnât about to attempt to offer that kind of comfort.
âYeah, I would, Iâd look shitty too, so just tell me you feel shitty, rather than pretend to be fine.â Why put on the airs and graces? She didnât know why these kids (because Orla couldnât not see them as kids, kids who raised each other and didnât get to actually grow up emotionally) were constantly so confrontational. âCâmon, youâve just got two more floors, if you pass out I am going to carry you, and I know youâll hate that.â
âBecause his handlerâs an asshole who thinks he can tell us what to do and-â Sandyâs voice broke a little, âI canât hear him anymore.â And she had Cassidy, but Cassidy often came with Tammy in tow, and probably now Paige and she didnât want to have any more minds than she absolutely had to deal with. And Cassidy⊠he had his own thing going on here. Sandy didnât really know if she was a part of that anymore. Her insecurities were wildly out of control at the moment and she really didnât know how to calm them down.
She knew that if Rachel could see her right now, sheâd be foisted off to the infirmary. She had a feeling Rachel would sit with her until they were both sure that she was going to be alright but she didnât want to do that, either. She didnât want to like it here. And she didnât want to like Orla but the woman had a point.
She couldnât make it up the stairs on her own and she would hate it if Orla carried her. This was bad enough. Sandy was a proud thing and hated relying on anyone that she didnât have to for anything. She didnât know Orla well, but she assumed that the woman would just hold it over her head at a later date. Sheâd have to handle that at a later time.
âBecause you donât care either way,â she responded, âwhy are you even helping me?â she asked, âYou hate us.â
Anyone could see that the group needed each other, some of them more than others, and Sandy definitely needed the connections to the group that helped her filter out everything else. Orla knew that solitary meant being cut off from powers, the point was to leave them without any of their gifts or connections to other people, which was obviously the punishment.
But it seemed like the handlers didnât really care, or didnât understand just how seriously these kids depended on each other, that cutting one of them off would detrimentally affect the rest of them. And then Sandy was off on a mission?
âI donât hate you, any of you.â Orla reserved her hatred for only the worst of people -like her father and step-mother, the Outsiders were confused kids that didnât stop and think about those around them and what they were doing, they were stupid and impulsive, but not enough for Orlaâs hate. âI think youâre all far too impulsive, I dislike what you all bring out in Alejandro, but I donât hate any of you.â Not even Calvin, who really brought out Alejandroâs extreme side, the excessive activism that led to Alejandroâs almost fanatic actions. Actions that, ultimately, led them all here.
A careful measure of assistance, Orlaâs hair taking more of Sandyâs weight, so that Sandyâs legs were mostly just moving rather than actually walking.
It was almost as difficult focusing on not listening in on Orlaâs thoughts as it was blocking everything else out. Sandy was tempted - so tempted - to renege on her promise to Alejandro and just take a little peek inside Orlaâs head, but she didnât know if empathy meant that Orla would know when someone was reading her mind.
âYou have a funny way of showing it,â Sandy retorted, not really noticing how much of her weight was being supported but there was also very little chance she would say thank you even if it was identified. She would be too busy being embarrassed and then angry at Orla for making her feel embarrassed. âWe didnât ask Alejandro for his help. He found us. He wanted to help us. Stop making it sound like- ngh-â she stopped talking, hand against the wall as they paused and Sandy lifted her hand to her nose again, ostensibly to check to make sure it wasnât bleeding anymore but really it was because she genuinely felt like her brains were liquid and might just pour out of her face at any moment.
She swallowed, and then stubbornly started moving again - or trying to anyway, it was at that point she realised that she was pretty much being held up by Orlaâs hair. She made to shrug it off but then thought better of it; she wasnât a hundred percent sure her legs would support her right now anyway.
âYou donât know anything about us. Weâd die for Wi- Alejandro. Thatâs what you do for the people you love.â Or that was how Sandy had learned to understand it. You cared about a precious few people with everything that you had. You lived for them and you would die for them. Youâd kill for them. Whatever it took to keep them safe.
âSure, Sandra, because youâre oh so welcoming of my presence.â Orla might not be able to feel Sandyâs emotions because of her psychic block, but she didnât need to be an empath to know that Sandy practically loathed her existence. It was there in her body language any time she was around Alejandro, in her tone of voice, in the daggered glares. Orla would need to be blind and deaf to not know how Sandy felt about her.
The stumble made Orla completely forego the pretences, her hair practically picking Sandy from the floor to carry her. Due to the strength in each tendril, how they wove together with just a thought, Sandra was supported like she was on a chair, carefully held and protected while masses of Orlaâs hair pulled them up the last flight to the third floor.
âYes, youâd die for him, heâd die for you. But thatâs not the issue.â Not in Orlaâs mind. Yes, they were hellbent on change, and it fed into Alejandroâs need to cause that change, regardless of how. But now, in here? It wasnât the change that would come, it wasnât even Alejandro and them staging little uprisings, turning minds against the Regiment program, gaining support. âWhat heâll do to protect all of you is beyond what you can comprehend. Because thatâs who he is. Itâs not him dying for any of you or vice versa that worries me.â It was Alejandro being able to live with himself, being able to still see himself in whatever was left. She knew it was already starting, Alejandro protecting the group without them really knowing why, being manipulated by the handlers by thinly veiled threats towards the Outsiders.
Alejandro wouldnât just die for these people, heâd kill to protect them, heâd abandon what he believed if it stopped them from being hurt, if it kept them together. Even if it tore through him in the process.
âCause you come in with your judging and your as- We didnât make him who he is. And heâs a grown up who makes his own decisions you know.â She didnât protest as Orla effectively picked her up but she could feel the humiliation already burning in her chest. She could feel her embarrassment at the situation creeping up her spine. As far as she was concerned, she gave what she got. She knew Orla didnât like them, so she didnât like her back. Sandy didnât like that she felt blamed for the way Alejandro was towards them. As if theyâd made him something he wasnât. As if it was their fault that he wanted to protect them, when no one else did.
As they hit the third floor, Sandy listened to Orla and just made a âhmphâ sound. âGuess itâs a good thing he has you here then,â she bit, âto remind him of how terrible for him we are.â
"You know, for a telepath, you don't listen much." Orla knew she was fighting a losing battle, because these kids decided from the get go that Orla wasn't part of them, she didn't agree with how they did things, didn't agree with the things they brought out in Alejandro -yes, he made his choices, but he didn't make them for him, he made those choices for these rebellious tearaway teens who wanted to stick it to the man. And while Alejandro's anarchist nature came out, it never dulled his need to protect either. And thus, the cycle continued. They thought him a grown man, making his own choices. But none of them stopped to see what the hell they were doing to him by letting him.
One tendril of hair grew several feet, knocking on Alejandro's door, while Orla remained by the stairs, letting the grouping holding Sandy carry her off to Alejandro's room. And once again, Orla made a point of stepping back, because Sandy felt put out if Orla was around her friend. "Try and take care of yourself." Orla was already walking away by the time her hair dropped Sandy carefully to her feet at Alejandro's door, slowly slipping away to shrink back to manageable size while Orla retreated to her own room.