Do You Believe that Time Heals All Wounds? (Cain/Invite)

[Camila Reyes]

Two days. It had been two days since the tragic battle and she had barely escaped the clutches of the stubborn nurses who were trying to “patch her up”. She was not going to miss the funeral for anything, dammit! Her friends, the only people who ever seemed to give a damn, were dead and she was not going to let their souls go to their watery graves without them knowing her thanks. While no one was looking, she slipped quietly out of the nurse’s office, passing a prefect who was swathed in bandages all along his torso. She snorted and looked down at herself, a small smirk crawling onto her lips. I got out pretty lucky, she thought to herself, wincing as the stitches on her leg pulled at her skin while she walked. She had never had stitches before, so she supposed it was normal for her leg to be in pain while she limped down the corridors as fast as she could. She had to get to the beach; she just had to, and she was going to get there, even if her stitches were torn wide open and if her burned arm got all kinds of harmful bacteria in the open, stinging wound. She felt tears of pain and sorrow prick her eyes but she swallowed her sadness, putting on a brave face as she stumbled out of the school and toward the beach, still the most peaceful place on campus, even after a massive battle.

The brown haired young woman had stopped along her way to the beach to pilfer marigolds from the school greenery. Grief… Pretty accurate she thought sourly, trying to straighten out the crumpled petals as she approached the beach. She managed to get Calista to hold off sending out the caskets for a few minutes, though it took some persuasion from several people to agree to let the sapphire-eyed girl place a marigold in every casket. Even the prefects, she people she had sworn to hate with the entirety of her being, recieved a marigold for grief. The lump in her throat grew as she froze at two caskets in particular- Roman and Ashton. She clenched her eyes shut as she placed a marigold delicately behind Roman’s ear, remembering his last words to her before his demise. I-I know I’ll get to see Samara, soon. B-But I’ll miss you, Camila… She turned her head away so that the sand became dark with tears rather than his face. She placed another marigold in Ashton’s casket, smiling sadly. Sure, she had not been with him when he died, but he was one of the first people who was kind to Camila, despite her vicious attitude. She placed the marigold beside his head and stepped back, thanking Calista quietly before falling back further into the small gaggle of students that were left. Nothing but tears and misery, she thought, finally feeling her internal armor crack as tears started to pour from her eyes. Her only consolation was that Carter and Stephen were still alive, albeit probably wounded. However, she kept to herself; she did not want her friends to see her in such a state.

The brown-haired young lady had stayed longer than most. She had seen Calista run past right after the caskets had gone out. She was sure that she had seen Jin lingering on the sand, which was now splotched a dark tan in many places from the bitter grief streaming from the eyes of those left behind. Even after the glowing lights had disappeared into the distance, she was still on her knees, feeling the grains dig into her skin as tears poured from her eyes. She could not imagine having lost Carter and Stephen too; she probably would have been hopeless. Deep down, she knew that her friends would not have wanted her to cry over their deaths, but she could not help herself. She had already lost her parents, and she had not cried over them at all. Maybe this is repressed grief, she thought woefully, wiping at the tear tracks that probably ran down her face. She heard an odd noise behind her and sat back on her feet, looking at the sun setting over the ocean. A beautiful send-off for the afterlife… she thought with a small smile. She managed to sit down before pushing herself up off the sand, her body and leg trembling with the effort. She tried to compose herself as she slowly turned to see who was approaching. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she saw a mop of black hair and eyes that looked very similar to those of one she had nearly died by the hands of. She muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to deny the reality

“That can’t be Deven… We buried him.”

“Who are you?!”

Her tone was stern and demanding as she yelled. To someone so tall, the five foot four shrimp with brown hair and tear-filled sapphire eyes would probably look like a pushover. The young woman did not care how much of a weakling she was, though. Her rational side was hazed over with grief and other strong emotions. After panting for a few moments, she felt a more calm sense enfold her and she looked apologetic. She mumbled a soft apology and looked at the horizon, tears glittering in her eyes in the dying orange sunlight.

“You know, they say wrath is a sin. War is just wrath taken to the extreme. But what about the soldiers, the fighters, the warriors? Are they sinners? Do their souls go to heaven or hell…?”

[Deleted]

Cain had ended up on the beach, somehow or another, but that wasn't bad per-say.  It had a nice feel to it, good breeze, nice scent.  Calming by nature, he'd have to visit this place more often during his stay.  It didn't take long for him to notice some sort of commotion and, naturally, head toward it.  He didn't approach with any measure of haste, didn't concern him enough to, checking it out when he got there would suffice.

By the time he rolled onto the scene it seemed like things were winding down, the people left seemed to be crying.  Weird school.  Suddenly he was engaged by a girl, tears in her eyes, demanding to know who he was.  His hands shot out of his pockets, all four waving frantically in front of him that he hadn't done anything.  "Uh.. Cain, I'm Cain." he spat out hurriedly, not sure how to handle this situation.  Before he had much of a chance to think though, she asked him a pretty deep question.  Way out of left field.

War, wrath, sinners and hell, where people went after the fact.  He had never planned that far ahead, never cared to, never bothered.  What good was it to him if he knew where he went?  If he knew whether or not War counted as Wrath?  The chick was overcome with grief though, that much was evident.. so he couldn't just walk away.  As much as he wanted to.

Placing his front hands into his pockets again, another hand on his hip, and the other scratching the back of his head.  How was he supposed to react to this?  What sort of answer was she after?.. Was his opinion good enough?  Why the heck was she talking to him?  There were too many questions, for the moment, Cain had decided to simply answer as best he could.

"My opinion?  Each person answers for their choices, ya know?  Soldier or not.." shrugging he looked at her, still a bit concerned he was saying too much "..I mean, not everyone in an army fights for the same reasons, right?  Some are there for scholarships, in some places it's mandatory.. some armies fight for a cause, or a flag, it's always different."  Taking his arms from his hair and hip he crossed them in front of them, sitting down crossed legged right where he was.

"You knew them, right?  Were they angry?  If they were angry, was it right, or was it hate?  You'd know better than me where they are headed.  Everyone's a sinner in the long run anyway, some people just finish earlier than others." he finished, just staring at the oceans waves at this point. Weird first day, he was also afraid she was about to assault him.. but he could take it. It may be what she needed anyway, there was nothing wrong with venting.

[Camila Reyes]

The beach had once been place of peace and serenity. She remembered fondly the times when she would come just to dig her toes in the sand and feel normal again. Sadly, all of that was gone now. It was like the blood of the dead had seeped from their bodies into the sand, turning it a horrible pink color and marring the beauty of nature for all of eternity. Okay, maybe it was not that bad, but to the grieving girl, just about anything her wild imagination could dream up was possible. In her heart, she knew that this place would one day be the solace of peace once more. At the current moment, though, all she was seeing was blood and tears. The blood of those who died and the tears of those who were left behind mingled into one, becoming nearly indistinct from each other. It was no secret that she had never quite seen the world through rose-colored lenses, but even her inner voice told her that her thoughts were more like looking through black glass. All that she knew for sure was that her friends were dead and that she did not save them. She felt useless, powerless, and weak. Her yellow aura could do anything but knock people over. Her green aura could not stop internal bleeding or help stop the loss of blood that taking a bullet would cause. She was just as pathetic and useless as she had been before she had even discovered she was gifted and that was what hurt the most.

The young man that approached her had an eerie resemblance to the young man who had tried to kill her several days ago. Yet, he seemed quite different. The look on his face was bewildered, as if he had no idea what had transpired a few days before. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest for yelling at him; he had not done anything wrong. No one had done anything to ignite the fiery Latina rage inside her. Well, except the government, but she was going to deal with those d**** later. They would pay for what happened to her friends, she would make sure of it. She shook her head a little to clear the angry thoughts gathering in her head before giving the young man a sad smile. She lifted a pale hand to swipe at her eyes, trying to clear the crystalline drops from her vision. The skin around her eyes was puffy and a bright red, indicating that she had been crying for a long time. Her sapphire eyes reflected the pain in her heart, even as she tried to muster the words to joke with the stranger who stood before her, waving four arms frantically before him and sputtering his name in confusion. She let out a long heavy sigh before giving the young man an apologetic smile, though there was certainly sadness in the twinge of the young woman’s pale pink lips as she spoke.

“I-I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be so rude to a new student. We’re, um, going through a rough time and you have an… odd resemblance to someone we buried here today. M-my name is Reyes. Camila Reyes, that is. Seems to me like you came here at a bad time. Nothing to see here except misery and woe…”

The grief the young woman was feeling was making her question her faith, which was the only thing keeping her on the Earth to begin with, relationships with other people aside. It was times like these when she wondered why such things were allowed to happen. Was it because whoever created them wanted people to die? Was it because it was simply “their time” to leave the Earth? Or was it because of man’s own selfish desires; a lust for power or blood? She was sure that, if she had the opportunity to get an answer, she would get one someday. The bewilderment on the dark-haired young man’s pale face indicated that he had not thought much about such subjects, but his responses indicated that he was willing to engage her, even in her grief-stricken and nearly maddened state. She nodded slowly, mulling over his words. He was right, in a sense. Everyone made their own choices, and outcomes, bad or good, were created from said choices. Each person would have to answer to their deeds, right or wrong, eventually. She let out a sigh and decided to sit down, feeling like she had to entertain him now that she had engaged him. Besides, it was the least she could do since she had practically screamed at him earlier. Who knew, maybe talking to this odd young man with four arms might help her allay some of the emotions that were swirling within her.

“Only a small few were actually angry… Many of them just wanted the school to be safe. Most of the student council gave their lives, and still others died, prefect, battle front, and neutral alike. I suppose you’re right. I’m not exactly known for being the calmest person around; I’m a bit of a hothead for a girl whose powers are dependent upon emotional stability. Speaking of, what’s your story? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with four arms around here. You’re like… a pale version of Machamp with dark hair and no weird belt buckle.”

The very vision in her head made her break out in hysterics. It almost sounded like something Roman would have said. Maybe he rubbed off on me in more ways than one. My attitude seems to be getting better… Though, that may be because I am trying to change myself… she thought, shaking her head a little. She smiled weakly at the young man before her, as if to apologize for getting lost in her own mind. She scratched the back of her head, her cheeks turning a little bit pink.

“I-I’m sorry for springing such odd questions on you. It’s not fair. I’ve just… lost so many people recently that it’s hard to take it all in.”

[Deleted]

And there it was.  He resembled one of the dead students, which he was sure would lead to more confusion down the road.  That much he was sure of, if one student got confused others likely would as well.  So something bad had happened, not that he hadn't gathered that, but it seemed like a pretty vicious fight.  People dying on school grounds was definitely not something he had been warned about.  The feds had said it could get violent, but that the Prefects and Student Council kept everything in check.  Every school had it's 'rebels' they had said, but not to worry about it.  It just seemed that the rebels here had a name and a purpose.  Not quite the same as a kid that just dyes his hair and picks fights every day.

Despite the dreary nature of their conversation, he let out a laugh when she compared him to a pokemon.  He hadn't even noticed it before, but sure enough, the comparison was there.  Flexing two arms upward and two down, he did his best Machamp impression.  "I could get a buckle.  This could work, whatta think?" he joked.  It couldn't hurt to try and make someone laugh when they were clearly pretty torn up.

Still, she had asked him his story, so he could offer her at least a quick version.  "I'm a late bloomer, apparently.  I've had these arms and powers for all of a month now, they shuttled me out here quick as they could after the change took place.  Not much too it.  I don't figure I'll be going home, even if I get out, don't figure I'd be welcome anymore."  For now, he left out his personal goals.  She didn't need to know, and wasn't sure if it'd kick up more dirt.

With her last apology he waved a hand dismissively at the notion of her bothering him, or it being an odd question.  "It's fine.  I figure it'll be hard on ya for a good while."  Bringing two of his hands back he locked their fingers together behind his head, the other two crossing over his chest.  Offering his own apologetic smile with a tilt of his head "I'm not real good at consoling or anything.. but uh, you gonna be okay?  If ya need to be alone, just say.. or if ya need to talk about it.  I dunno how this stuff works.

[Camila Reyes]

The look of confusion that crossed the new student’s face did not surprise Camila at all. She was sure the government had no prepared this poor fellow one bit for what he was up against. They had probably fed him some nonsense about how “everything was safe” and that, even if there was conflict, it was ironed out. They had given her the same shepil while they were unlocking her cell. The mere thought of being behind iron bars again made her want to grit her teeth, but she was able to restrain herself. She was bitter, plain and simple. She was bitter toward her parents, who had basically ignored her for most, if not all of her life. She was bitter toward her brother, who sent her to this rampage of destruction and death. Most of all, though, she was bitter toward the governments who had decided that keeping people corralled like animals was a good idea. She was almost sure that, if they had all had it their own way, every single gifted teen would have been slaughtered upon discovery. Thoughts of murder aside, though, she had to admit that the young man’s resemblance to Deven was slightly unnerving upon first laying eyes on the young man. Thankfully, Cain’s attitude would immediately convince pretty much anyone who knew Deven that he was nothing like the sociopathic psychic.

Camila’s attitude was certainly beginning to change; she could see that for herself. She would have never made a joke like she had when she originally arrived; much less to someone who she did not know. Even in the wake of all of the misery that was hanging in the air, she was starting to feel like her old self again. She was not sure if she liked the feeling or not. On one hand, it would probably allow her to make friends easier. On the other, however, it would basically leave her defenseless. So, she was testing out a happy medium, one where she could defend herself if need be, but also be a little kinder to others so that she could get to know more people. Even if there is a chance of losing them, she thought grimly, shaking her head a little to dislodge the thought. Cain’s gestures and quip made her laugh genuinely for the first time in what seemed like months. A small smile played on her lips as she nodded, tapping her chin as if in thought.

“That could totally work. Maybe you should think about it for Halloween. They have to do something in this dump for holidays…”

She blinked a little when he told her that he had been caught after only a month. How did I get away for as long as I did? she thought to herself, looking bewildered. Of course, being a “late bloomer” was not completely unheard of, though she had not met anyone who described themselves as such. Her powers had set in at fourteen, but she had managed to keep them under wraps until her brother found out. She was not sure if he had reported her existence or what, really. All she knew was that, when she came home from school, her parents were dead and she was carted off to a holding cell until they could ship her a** to Ashford. She looked a little sympathetic to his concern of no one welcoming him home. She knew exactly how that felt. No one in her family would want to deal with her when and if she returned. They would surely blame her for what happened to her parents and leave her all alone. The thought sent a shiver up her spine, but she tried to look composed; there was no need to show any more weakness in front of someone she had never met.

“I hear that. I guess I could go live in a shelter until I find a job and a place to rent or something… I’m sure my oh-so-loving brother took it upon himself to sell my parents’ house for us, since he’s not trapped in this rathole…”

She chuckled softly and shook her head. A lot of things were conflicting inside her at the moment. She wanted to pour her heart out, but at the same time, she did not want anyone else to feel horrible because of her pain. She let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead, digging her fingers into the sand afterward. The grains were much silkier when they ran through her fingers as opposed to when they dug into her knees. Of course, she was sure that sitting like she was did not help the stitched wound on her leg, but she did not care. She could always go to the nurse later and have it fixed. She wanted her friends and, yes, even her enemies, to have a proper send-off. She could still see the lights flickering in the distance and smiled just a little bit. She supposed that Oliver had channeled a lot of energy into lighting the lights on the caskets. She sighed softly; she wanted to check up with him soon and see if he was doing alright. After a few moments, she pushed herself off the sand and smiled weakly at Cain. She was starting to feel the burning pain in her left arm and she really had to get to the nurse to make sure that nothing was infected.

“I-I just don’t think I’m ready to talk about things yet… Thank you for the offer though, Cain. I should really head back to the nurse’s office now. My arm is killing me and I need to make sure I didn’t get sand in my stitches. See you around…”

She felt bad leaving the young man alone on the sand, but she needed to get going. It was going to be dark soon and she was sure the prefects would be cracking down on curfew, injuries or no. She waved a little bit before limping back toward the treeline, tears still in her eyes. She would make sure that they did not die in vain, no matter what they had done. She would break everyone out of Ashford, even if she had to die in the process. To pass on her stories, she would write in her journal more often and maybe even slip it to a publisher before her death. Maybe, I’ll be the living Anne Frank with superpowers, she thought, wincing as she felt the stitches pull at the skin on her leg.