Who: Amie^colour and Remus^THG.
Where: A new home.
When: Tonight.
What: Reading and playing.
Rating/Status: G/Incomplete.



How long could she go on like this? It was a question that she asked every time before she took a pill, snorted a line, or went for a drag. To fill a void, an emptiness that sucked her in like a black hole. To forget, to hide, to runaway, to cast aside and ignore her very own void. Too long, she woken up to find paper scattered everywhere, words written in such brilliance that it pained to read. It didn't hurt to feel such emotions when she was so high, untouchable. How much longer could she do this?

I don't know how long I can do this. I think the universe has different plans for me.

She sat there in silence, completely sober for the first time in weeks.

This is the thing we come to, this is the thing we all fight, and if we are lucky enough to lose, our lives become more beautiful with mystery again.

"And that is not something I can say out loud."

Naturally, Amie kept most things in her mind. At best, her thoughts were always on the tip of her tongue and never written down unless guided by some magic fairy. She didn't know her place in this world, but there was some slight hope that she served a better purpose here than at home. Here, she allowed herself to become close to others. There was a near certainty that everyone would leave eventually, making it easy for Amie to let go. She could make friends, she could love silently, she could smile in their presence, and write of their existence when departed. But she was tired. Tired of not thinking clearly or at times, thinking a little too clearly. She wanted control, she wanted honesty, she wanted to be heard, to be felt. She wanted for someone to give a damn about her.

Amie had her father and there was no question she was not grateful for Duke. He didn't have to be there for her. He didn't have to take on the responsibility of her and her addiction. He was honest and Amie could not fault him for that. She loved her father, but her very own scientists reached out a helping hand.

With a promise to turn a stranger into someone worth getting to know, Amie packed what little belongings she had and walked her way over to Epsilon's house. Richard's house.

Amie didn't immediately search for her room. Instead, she set down her dufflebag of clothes and sat down at the piano in the parlor. Her fingertips ran over the ivory keys ever so gently, as if she were caressing an old lover. With a small smile, her fingers pressed down on the ivories, quietly playing a little melody.