Super-powered teens and super-powered hormones(Isabelle)

[Chandler Fernandez]

"What is this place?" Chandler asked softly. His deep sea-green orbs scanning the cave as he slowly made his way through it. Each steps he took leaving it's imprint in the otherwise undisturbed sand. The young man's fingertips gently trailing across the smooth surface of the walls. As he wandered deeper into the cavern he felt something within him stir. Like a vague sense of familiarity he couldn't shake off. Actually... it was kinda like Déjà vu. 

Now, whatever it was he was Déjà vuing about Chandler came to the ever brilliant conclusion that since he couldn't shake the feeling off. That he would just suppress it, and deal with it later. Was it healthy? Hell no. Should he just accept these feelings, and find another way to distract himself? Nine-out-ten doctors say yes. 

But! The real question was wither, or not he actually gave a flying fuck? In with case the answer was a big fat no. 

With it successfully suppressed, Chandler spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Normally he would have just ignored it and kept walking, but something about this wall really caught his attention. Like it literally reached out, smacked him upside the head and shouted: Hey look over here stupid! Not that wall could actually slap people and yell at them. That would just be silly. 

Chandler tried one last time to ignore it, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. Whatever it was about this wall he just couldn't walk away from. Reluctantly he gave in, sighed, and walked over to the wall. He instantly spotted what had caught his attention. Until now the wall had been multicolored. Now it was all dyed a shade of aquamarine that seemed to dance on the wall. Behind him he could hear the soft noise of water lapping. 

His hand shot up to his head. "Ah!" He groaned as a migraine exploded inside of his skull. It was like someone was taking a screwdriver, and was driving it into his forehead. "Batgirl....?" His words came out as a whisper as his free hand dragged across the wall. Running cover a small dent in it surrounded by scratch marks. As if someone had thrown a rock at it. With a great deal of strength too. His eyes shifted downward. Spotting what looked to be shattered pieces of a stone.....

The Déjà vu was back stronger than ever.

[Isabelle Amherst]

Ironically, the cave had become one of Isabelle's favorite recluses, even though she would swear up and down on his grave that Chandler Fernandez meant nothing to her anymore. The spot was secluded and unknown to most students, which made it ideal for the illegal nature of her escapades. The fact that it surrounded her with the feeling of the presence of her fallen best friend was just a bonus. A bonus that she would admit to no one.

Though she had been on a string of heroin days, that day, her poison of choice was a few tablets of LSD. If her goal was to end up right back where she had been before Chandler's death, face-down in a hallway in a puddle of her own foam and drool, she was headed in the right direction. On the plus side, the hallucinogenic drug gave her a convenient explanation for what she was seeing when Chandler Fernandez walked right past her and began observing the cave walls with wonder and curiosity, as if he hadn't seen them a thousand times already. Oh, and as if he weren't ****ing dead.

Isabelle didn't even move in response to the zombie sighting. She knew what she had taken and how much of it. Not to mention, she had already scooped up a zombie "Bridget" into an unwanted hug, only to find that it was only a non-zombie Camilla, who was nice but way less cool. Rather than completely losing her mind like a sensible person upon seeing a person who was supposed to be dead, Isabelle decided to enjoy the moment. If the drugs allowed her to see her friend, who was otherwise gone... well, there were worse ways to spend her time. And there was not a soul around to see her being kind to the person she supposedly hated.

Ah! Badgirl...?

Batgirl, his affectionate nickname for her, is what Isabelle would have heard of she were not higher than the moon. Sadly, that was not the case.

"Nah. Goodgirl. Well, I mean... I was." Pre-second-Chandler-death Isabelle may have been a wild child and a rebel without a cause, but at the end of the day, she had been, at heart, a good girl. Being the lamest rebel ever, her "pranks" always had harmless intentions, and when they went wrong and hurt someone, she had a tendency to apologize profusely. She never really did anything that could actually be deemed dangerous (other than existing, which in itself was inherently dangerous thanks to Isabelle's clumsiness), so really, the "rebel" and "wild child" labels she had earned with her eccentric shenanigans were most likely stretched versions of the truth.

That had all changed, though, as Isabelle sat in the corner of the cave, all color erased from the canvas of her body and replaced with darkness: dark hair, dark clothes, dark habits.

The dark figure stood up and walked closer to her perceived "hallucination" of her dead best friend so that she could get a good look at him. There were so many things she had never had the chance to stay to Chandler Fernandez. That she loved him. That she forgave him. That she was sorry for the kiss. That...

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

Or that.