sydney sage đ¸ vampire academy (melbourne) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-02-13 21:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * emily, * kit, c: connor reed, c: sofia nichols |
WHO: Connor Reed & Sofia Nichols
WHEN: Sunday, February 10, 2018; Morning
WHERE: An apartment in DC, then the road home
SUMMARY: Connor accidentally texts Sofia to come pick him up in DC.
WARNINGS: Mentions of depression/side effects of spirit magic
Sofia hadnât known what to expect when sheâd received the text from Connor asking for quick rescue from DC. The SOS had produced mental images of rundown buildings, or dark corners of sketchy alleyways, or the usual sort of terrifying backdrops for sending out distress signals. She definitely had not expected to pull up in front of a collection of swanky looking apartments that looked like they must have been built within the last five years. What kind of trouble was Connor actually in, anyway? Still, she slid into a parking spot and checked her phone again, just to make sure she hadnât gotten the address wrong. But, no, there it was, clear as day, unit number included. Warily, Sofia let herself out of her car and made her way through one of the breezeways, and up two flights of stairs to find the corresponding apartment that matched the address sheâd been given. Knocking on the door, she tried to steel herself for whatever had driven Connor to ask her to drive a half an hour out of Dunhaven at too early in the morning, but found it impossible because she had no idea what would be on the other side. She had to knock thrice before the door was finally answered, and she definitely hadnât expected the leggy, giggling twenty-something brunette that answered the door. Maybe sheâd gotten the wrong apartment? Her heart sank. No, it was the right unit. The girlâs eyes took in the sight of Sofia, sizing her up in half of a second. âUh, are you here for the rent? Because, like, I told the other girl Iâd have it by Friday.â Sofiaâs brow arched upward. âNoâŚ?â She wasnât sure why that was the assumption, though she supposed it was as good an assumption as any for why a random stranger was knocking on your doot. âIâm looking for Connor.â âWho?â The girl squinted at her. âUm, Connor? About this tall,â she gestured above her head, âshort hair, and--â she trailed off, spying Connorâs jacket, another detail about him she chided herself for having memorized, hanging near the door. So he was definitely here, in this apartment. Possibly in trouble, if heâd had to text her for backup. âYou know what, nevermind. Iâll find him myself.â She pushed her way past the girl, who protested but couldnât do much to stop Sofia, and into the living room where she spotted Connor through the sliding doors standing out on the balcony, bare feet, shirt undone, cigarette burning between his trembling fingers. Heâd officially lost his mind, she thought, standing out there in the cold like that. In moments, she was across the room pulling open the door and trying desperately not to make an easy assumption about what was happening here, and even harder to ignore the well of emotions those easy assumptions provoked in her. âThis doesnât look like an emergency,â she said, trying to keep the accusation out of her tone. âAre you all right?â Connor never quite understood how he got into these spirals; one bad decision led to another and another, and then suddenly he was stranded in D.C., feeling that unexpected, drowning type of misery. The weirdest part was that the decisions always seemed good at the time; they even made him happy...but then something would crash in his brain, and suddenly everything he did in the past sixteen hours seemed wrong, like a horrible mistake that just weighed on him endlessly. He was always left feeling split between the part of him that didnât want to do stuff like this anymore, and the part that didnât know how to stop--and didnât know what he would do with himself in place of this if he did stop. The hangover definitely didnât help either; neither did the fact that he couldnât get his ex-girlfriendâs words out of his head; Victim...thatâs the difference between you and me. You said you were a victim. Thatâs why...thatâs why ultimately, you and I arenât matched for each other. In spite of everything thatâs happened, Iâve never thought of myself that way. Being a victim means your powerless. That you wonât take action. Always...always Iâve done something to fight for myself...for others. No matter what. With a jolt, Connor realized his ex had never said that to him; it was Rose he was thinking about, and the memory that had sparked his panicked text to Ruby. With shaking hands, Connor lit another cigarette. It scared him how difficult it was becoming for him to tell the difference between his own life and memories and these dreams. Heâd stepped out into the wintry D.C. air to clear his mind, but it was still as muddled as it had been when he woke up. The only real difference was that his feet were now numb. Connor jumped at Sofiaâs voice, then he turned to her in bewilderment. She was the last person he expected to turn up here. âSofia?â he began, as if for clarification. âWhat are you doing here?â Sofia furrowed her brow. Had he forgotten their text conversation already? She held her phone up as if in evidence of the conversation and replied, âYou texted me? Said you needed to be rescued?â Had she completely misread the entire conversation, as she had a tendency to do? Had he not actually meant for her to jump in her car and speed off to his aid? She had a feeling she knew the answer to that question, and she wasnât entirely sure why sheâd been so ready to answer his text, to be needed by someone she still barely knew. Crossing her arms across her body, she shrugged. âBut I can go if you didnât actually need a ride home.â âI--â Connor began, brow furrowed, still struggling with the fact that Sofia was here. He began to process what she said--heâd texted her. But he hadnât...heâd texted Ruby. Hadnât he? Connor considered checking his phone to verify, but realized that was pointless. Obviously if she was here, he had texted her whomever heâd originally meant to text. âShit,â he muttered, running a hand through his hair. âI meant to text Ruby...but...erâŚ.I could actually use a ride home,â Connor admitted. Something was different about Connor that Sofia couldnât quite put her finger on and she tilted her head to the side as she studied him for a moment. It was like the smooth edges of him were fraying in a way sheâd never noticed before--though maybe it was the wrinkles in his shirt or the way the cold was making him shake that made her think so. She didnât know if she was glad or disappointed that he hadnât meant to text her to retrieve him from this, after all. âWell, Iâm not Ruby, but my car has heat and you already know I have a lead foot,â she said, trying for a bit of levity that she didnât really feel. âDo you know where your shoes are? I can grab your jacket, but--â but she didnât want to go searching for where else his things were, especially if they were places she couldnât readily see from the living room. âAnd, anyway, how did you get stranded here in the first place?â Connor cringed, not particularly wanting to answer that question, but he knew that Sofia was entitled to an answer if sheâd come all this way. He shrugged. âI just...wanted to go out last night and meet some people and have fun. But this morning...I just didnât feel the same way about it. I wanted to go home, but there were no trains to Dunhaven.â He couldnât really put into words that sudden plunge in emotions, from the high of a thrilling night out to the sudden descent into shame and regret, and how he didnât even exactly understand why he felt that way. Plus, he also wasnât in any state to make it home on his own, but that probably went without saying. âI can probably find them,â Conor mumbled, stumbling slightly back into the apartment. He hadnât noticed how stiff the cold had made his muscles. Julie--or was it Carly?--was back sleeping on the couch in a tangle of blankets. Connor walked quietly into the bedroom where he was pretty sure Carly was still sleeping, and retrieved one of his shoes from the far side of the bedroom, eventually finding the other in the opposite corner, reemerging with both shoes in hand. Sofia was still conflicted as Connor turned to head inside, but watching him stumble into the apartment, and noticing the way his shoulders sagged and his eyes frowned, she couldnât let herself dwell on how she felt. Not when Connor was so clearly going through something she didnât understand. She wasnât entirely sure what sheâd let herself think about him, or what sheâd let herself imagine about his kindness toward her, but she realized then that Connor just really needed a friend, and she was pretty sure she knew how to be a good friend. She followed him inside, making a point to look everywhere but toward the bedroom where he found his shoes...or at the girl who was now sleeping on the couch. Sighing as Connor walked back up to her, Sofia turned toward him and let herself fall into the familiar role sheâd adopted over the past two years, the one who worked tirelessly to hold the people around her together. Without thinking about it, she reached out and buttoned his shirt, then pulled her own scarf from around her neck and wrapped it around his. There were things she could have said, like the fact that maybe he should have considered the consequences of his choices before he made them, or that there was no part of her that enjoyed being here surrounded by reminders that Connor Reed wasnât even playing the same game that she was let alone in the same league. She said none of those things, though, because it was pretty clear to anyone with eyes and an inch of discernment that Connor was already feeling bad enough about his morning without her saying something that would inevitably make him feel worse. âLetâs get you home,â she said, instead, as she returned from the hallway with his jacket. âThough maybe thereâs time for a pit stop for water and food. You better not get sick in my car, though, because Iâd have to hurt you, and then Iâd have vomit and blood to get out of the seats.â She smiled, even though she didnât feel like smiling, and held the coat out toward him. âDo you need to, um...say bye to your âfriendsâ before we go?â Connor was surprised by the intimacy of the gesture, but he welcomed it, finding comfort in Sofiaâs quiet, non-judgemental support. Kicking his shoes on, Connor smiled a bit. âIâve got a stronger stomach than that, Iâll be fine,â he said. âBut food and water arenât terrible ideas,â he admitted. Frowning, Connor considered the question. Carly was still pretty sound asleep, and he didnât think she would particularly miss him. Julie was also snoring lightly from the couch. âI donât know if I should wake themâŚâ he started, but then reconsidered it. Walking in the direction of the couch, Connor said, âHey, Iâm heading out.â After a beat, Julie gave a drowsy and unconcerned, âMmmmkaybye.â Sofia had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at how unconcerned this girl seemed to be by what was going on in her own apartment. After all, Sofia was still a stranger and she had to assume Connor was a stranger, too--though she also assumed she and the other girl knew him a bit more intimately than she did. It was impossible to completely ignore how uncomfortable that assumption made her. She was already to the door before checking to make sure Connor was following behind her and, as she opened it and stepped outside, she buried her hands in her coat pockets and shrugged as if she could shield herself from the cold wind. âWhere do you want to eat?â she asked as she heard the door close behind her, not looking back at him. âSomething here in the city? Or Grandmaâs is open by now if you want to head on back to Dunhaven.â Connor trailed behind Sofia, still somewhat amazed that she was here at all. Of course, he was the one who texted her, but he couldnât help but wonder why sheâd answered. âWhatever you want,â he insisted, âIf you want to head back, letâs go to Grandmaâs. If you want to see some of the city now that you came all the way out here anyway, I know a few places.â Sofia slowed enough to where Connor could catch up to her, taking the stairs back down to the ground floor as he fell into step beside her. She considered the options. On the one hand, everything in DC was waking up and she knew there were plenty of things sheâd love to get into around here if she had the time and the opportunity. Her few days of having to entertain herself when sheâd first come to Dunhaven had in part already been spent here. As much as she wanted to take Connor up on the suggestion, though, there was a larger part of her that wasnât entirely sure sheâd be able to maintain the cool demeanor sheâd adopted inside when sheâd realized he really just needed her help. She hated that part of her. Willing her lips to curve into a smile, she shrugged and cast a quick glance at him. âIâd love to see more of the city, but I told Elias Iâd help him with a few things around the house today. So Grandmaâs probably wouldnât be a bad idea.â She lead him toward her car, not wasting any time sliding into the driverâs seat to escape the cold and, once Connor was in the car with her, she glanced up at him, letting her gaze linger a bit longer this time. She chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to decide what to say, if anything, before she turned the car on and headed back home. Finally, she settled on, âAre you sure youâre okay? You seem like something other than being stranded at a pretty girlâs place is bothering you.â Connor fell into a heavy silence. He dreaded this question, mostly because he knew he wasnât okay, but he didnât know why. Yes, his break up had been difficult and recent, but if Connor was being honest with himself, heâd felt this way from time to time both before and while he was dating his ex-girlfriend. This sense of not-okayness didnât really have anything to do with her. And other than that, Connor knew everything else in his life was relatively good; he had good friends, a loving and supportive family, he was making it through college more or less in one piece...but somehow, none of that really changed the fact that sometimes he felt extraordinarily unhappy. But he didnât know how to put all of that into words, so Connor just sighed, âI donât know,â he said, âI donât know how to explain it,â he paused before continuing, âI had one of those dreams.â Connor knew that probably wasnât the root cause, but it was something tangible he could point to in order to explain his emotions. Browing furrowing, Sofia twisted in her seat toward him, letting the keys dangle from the ignition. âYou did?â she asked, though she wasnât sure why. Obviously, he had--heâd literally just told her as much. She tried not to dwell on that particular stupid question. âI mean,â she amended, âwhat did you dream about this time?â She wasnât sure if she was allowed to ask, or if heâd even answer, but she figured there had to be a good reason why they were sharing the context of their dreams, and maybe just knowing they could talk to each other about them was it. Well, he could talk to her. She still wasnât sure how much she wanted to divulge the content of her own. âErrrâŚâ Connor began, embarrassed that the memory was relatively mundane in the grand scheme of things--why should he be so upset over his phantom selfâs break up? âWell...I dreamt of when Adrian and Rose broke up,â he explained. Victim...thatâs the difference between you and me, Connor thought. Was he a victim? He certainly felt like one in this moment. âIt was kind of a rough conversation.â âWould you--â Sofia started, not entirely sure she should keep prodding, but deciding to do it, anyway, âwant to tell me about it?â Well, she was pretty sure that he wouldnât want to, but it was clearly bothering him, had shaken him up, so Sofia thought that maybe he needed to talk to someone about it, even if not her. Though she knew firsthand that that was much easier said than done. Connor paused, thinking it over--on one hand, he didnât really want to repeat what sheâd said about him--or Adrian--to anyone, because it left him feeling vaguely humiliated. On the other hand...he was finding that talking things through with Sofia usually made him feel better. âShe said that I saw myself as a victim, and that was ultimately why we werenât right for each other, because she never thought of herself as a victim, she was always willing to fight for herself and others...the implication, obviously, being that I donât do that,â Connor inhaled an unsteady breath, âIt just kind of hurt, because...it felt like she could be talking about me.â Sofia couldnât claim to know much about dating and breakups because her own experience with either was...well, lacking. What she did understand was how it felt to be told something negative that youâd already recognized in yourself, no matter how true or not the comment was. She didnât personally think that Connor acted like a victim, but she could admit that she hadnât been around him enough to pass judgment. She certainly didnât know enough about Adrian to pass judgment, either. She did, however, feel like she could surmise a great deal about Rose from what sheâd gathered in her dreams, and she had to wonder how much of that assessment was true, and how much was just Rose being Rose. Frowning, she glanced down at her hands in her lap. âSometimes when I get stuck in my own head, I do this thing where I remind myself that any halfway decent thesis requires relevant arguments and specific cited examples to support it. So when I think, or think someone else thinks, thereâs something wrong with me, I force myself to think of how I would legitimately argue the case in a graded paper. Sometimes I succeed and learn something about myself that I can improve, but most of the time, I realize that I canât support the thought because itâs just untrue. So what about you? What specific examples do you have of you being unwilling to fight for yourself or others? Because, if you ask me, I think itâs going to be one of those arguments that youâll find is entirely unfounded.â Connor couldnât help but laugh a bit--he had literally never heard someone suggest he work through a problem in such a way. âThatâs definitely one way of looking at itâŚâ he said after a beat, but tried to consider what she asked him to think through. It wasnât easy, though, to dispel such a negative characterization of himself when he was feeling so negative in general. âI donât knowâŚâ Connor started. âIn moments like this, itâs kind of hard not to feel pathetic, and like a victim, I guess...sometimes I feel like Iâm a victim of myself,â he said, âBut I donât think Iâm unwilling to fight for others. I know Iâd always stand up for my sisters and my friends. Iâd never just stand up and let bad things happen to them because I felt helpless to do anything for them. Iâd always try and help them. I know thatâŚâ Connor said. âI guess the issue is when it comes to me,â he frowned a bit, then sighed, âBut one thing I do kind of hate about thatâŚ.about that victim thing. Itâs like...itâs easy to solve your problems when theyâre manageable and you have a clear head. But thatâs not how it works for everyone. Like Rose, who I know is borderline imaginary, but whatever, like sheâs super confident and strong-willed, so itâs easier for her to be like that all the time...but that doesnât come as effortlessly to everyone. If she knew what itâs like in my head--or Adrianâs--maybe sheâd feel like a victim, too.â Sofia nodded along, taking in every word, but not interjecting, or interrupting. She liked that Connor felt comfortable enough to actually answer her question, and she was surprised by just how much he was willing to tell her. When he was done, though, she took a deep breath and then said, âWell, at least you can argue that half of her statement is untrue when it comes to you, right? And you already told me that Adrian brought Jill back to life after she was attacked, so that doesnât feel like heâs much for not fighting for others, either. I mean, I know a little about what Spirit does to moroi thanks to the dreams, so it canât have come without a price he chose to pay, right?â And then she pulled her eyes away from her hands and looked up at him. âAs for the other half, maybe it doesnât have to be something thatâs a bad thing, but rather something you can be aware of and can work on being better about. Which I know isnât easy to do, Connor. Believe me, I feel like I get stuck in my own head 98% of the time, and I canât even speak to where your head is. Is how you feel something you wish you could fight to change? If you thought it was possible?â âYes,â Connor admitted, âBut I...donât even know where to start,â he admitted, then thought back on something else sheâd said. âWhat does spirit do to Moroi?â he asked her. âThat wasnât really clear in either of my memories.â âOh,â Sofia started, âwell, the other magic types clearly draw from the elements, right? So someone who controls water, for example, would need a source of water to pull from. From what I understand, which is very little, mind you, Spirit has to pull from the person wielding the magic. It...well, I know some Spirit users take antidepressants to counteract the effects of the magic.â And then she offered Connor an encouraging smile, âBut to the original point, I think you just provided an argument against her assessment. It doesnât seem, at all, like you donât want to fight for yourself.â Connor froze up at the mention of antidepressants, âAdrian mentioned something else in the dream...he said something like, âIâm an addict with no work ethic whoâs likely going to go insane. Iâm not like you,ââ Connor frowned. âDid he mean that last part literally?â Sofia didn't want to answer that because, from what she knew from Sydney's general knowledge, it seemed a likely side effect of using the magic. She didn't think that was what Connor wanted to hear, though, and she found herself wanting to say something that would reassure him, not worry him. But, in the end, she decided honesty was the better policy here because Connor would inevitably dream the truth. With a small sigh, she replied, âI'm not sure how he intended it just then, but I don't think it's an unlikely consequence of using the magic. I mean, are our minds not finite resources? So if the magic keeps pulling from you, the has to be an end to the resource at some point. Which I know probably doesn't make you feel better about Adrian, but he's not you, even if our dreams feel real.â Connor chewed on his lip as he considered this. Adrian wasn't him, and yet...dispelling the thought, Connor said, âI guess it just worries me for what sorts of dreams might be ahead.â Again, Sofia was at a loss for how to relate because, as far as she knew, Sydney didnât have the same struggles Adrian must have and she didnât think she had something comparable to draw on from her own life. She wouldnât try to compare what Connor was describing to her to her own experiences, anyway. She didnât know how to comfort him, or how to allay his fears and, for a moment, she considered just reaching out and touching his arm. Then she thought better of it and let her hand fall lamely back into her lap. Pressing her lips together, she tried to sort through how to respond and then, finally, said, âThereâs no way of knowing what the future holds for him, or for you, until it happens. Like I said before, though, I know from Sydney some of the ways in which Spirit users quell the effects of the magic, so thereâs at least that. I mean, if the dreams to come start feeling too real maybe knowing how they combat it gives you an advantage of knowing how to fight back against it, too.â Watching the road pass by outside the window, Connor tried to not dwell too much on the thought of antidepressants--or how it would be difficult to discern if any so-called âeffectsâ were originating from himself or from Adrian. âCan I ask you something?â Connor asked suddenly. âYes,â Sofia replied, not having to even think about her answer this time. âOf course, you can.â âWhy did you come?â he asked. âI wouldnât have expected you to.â That answer was much harder to come to because Sofia didnât really know why sheâd come. Sheâd received the text, hadnât even questioned why Connor would have been texting her and not someone else, and had rushed to DC without another hesitation. Why had she done that? Was it because that was just who she was? The girl who had to take care of everyone around her, or the girl who didnât know how to say no to anyone? Or was it because it was Connor who had asked, regardless of whether or not he meant to, and despite the fact that sheâd had no other reason to answer. She sighed, and shrugged. âI donât know. You asked and I didnât really consider there to be any option but to come. I mean, I was definitely imagining something much more life-or-death. I debated whether or not to bring a baseball bat.â She gestured to the backseat where the evidence of which option had won out lay haphazardly tossed back there. âI would do it, again, though. For the record.â She meant it, too, even if a large part of her hoped he wouldnât intentionally ask her to come rescue him from his extracurricular activities next time. She didnât like how it made her feel, even knowing this wasnât really about how she felt, at all. Connor smiled a bit at that, even knowing he was largely still embarrassed. âThank you,â Connor said sincerely, turning to look at her. âI really appreciate it...and for the record, I would come and get you if you ever needed it.â |