When it happens, there’s a moment where everything seems to fade out, an instance of darkness to contrast with the sunlit, abet dreary, classroom. And for a moment smaller, they recall words – no, rather, hands, cryptically foretelling something that, now, they could very easily understand.
If you fight too hard, strange things will happen to you.
And that was, indeed true – yesterday, they had helped the duo fight off a pretty nasty monster, after a good month of avoiding any form of combat. And, compared to their first battle, they had full control over their abilities, not to mention, the power to easily fell the foe before anyone was seriously harmed.
In essence, they had returned the favor that they received so long ago.
But, would every fight come with this cost?
In what felt like few moments after, they would weakly blink, adjusting their tired looking eyes to the surroundings. A few minutes seemed to have passed, judging by the clock’s time, but more importantly, no one was in the classroom. Had there been some sort of fire drill, maybe an impromptu school meeting? No, something didn’t feel right.
And, quite literally, at that. Their whole body ached, the air felt tense, and they had been bent over on their desk, their head laying against surface almost lifelessly, arms limply spread out in front of their face. Did something – no, what had hit them so violently that had them in such a condition? It couldn’t of possibly been the type of thing that the duo had mentioned to them, they described these, what were they called, distortions, as mental, never painful.
Warily, they would let their hand fall, reaching for their phone. They couldn’t call these two, as they were probably in class as well, but they could very well text them. The one they chose to bother, anyway, would probably prefer it to be text, anyway.
“Hey,” they would slowly type on the keyboard, my word, it was so hard to concentrate with this weight on their body, “I think I overdid it yesterday. What sorts of symptoms were there?”
It doesn’t even take a minute for her to respond.
“Oh, hi!!!! Usually I’ve found that I’ve gotten mad at things, or really clingy to someone,” she added a fair number of hearts after that, making it easy to deduce who she might be talking about – the latter of the duo), “but I’ve seen clocks go backwards, or small things like that? What happened??”
They never really liked how upbeat she was, but of the two, she – Rita, right, that was her name – was a bit more reliable than her taller friend. “I passed out. Now no one’s here.” Simple enough to understand, they hoped.
“They probably left for the strange meeting down at the gym, it was so sudden!!” A moment pauses, and then, another text. “I’ll try and sneak out. Stay put, ok!!”
Something stirs at the pit of their stomach, but for once, it’s normal – they were never the type that were good at conversations, and the thought of even talking to Rita, or rather, signing to her, was enough to make them uneasy. Without even questioning whether it was a proper time to or not, they dug into their pockets, hoping to fish out some sort of snack, but alas, nothing comes forth. Figures.
A frustrated growl comes from them, as they run their hands their their hair, plopping their face against the top of the desk. There’s a moment where they catch the light of their phone go off, but, rather than remove their face from the desk, they let it vibrate quietly beside them, not even trying to move until someone – Rita, right on cue – would gently nudge their shoulder with one of her hands.
Barely taking an effort to look at her, they lazily signed a ‘what?’ towards the girl. Oh, how their disagreeable face clashed with how panicked they felt, having someone looking at them, trying to have a conversation with them!
At the very least, Rita’s reply would give them a face that would fit their feelings better, though, for reasons other than their issues with communicating with others. Carefully, they would sign for ‘repeat’, and confirmed once more, slowly signing the letters out to avoid any miscommunication.
She couldn’t possibly be serious, but, as their hands trailed towards their back, awkwardly running them up it as best as they could manage, something was found that couldn’t no, shouldn’t be there.
“…my word, Rita was serious.” The ring of her voice – Rita’s friend, Mette – would come through as she entered the room, not even asking for permission before scooping the poor, confused person into her arms. “We need to hide you, fast. The school’s bringing people upstairs to see if you’re still alive.”
They had many questions, so many questions as to what was going on, why this happened, if either one of these ladies actually knew what was going on, but all they could muster was a small, weakly forced, “am I alive..?”
All they would get is a curt nod, before they found themselves being carried out of the room, with the smaller girl following them shortly behind. And, thankfully, getting out the school doesn’t prove to be too much of a challenge, though whether or not any of the security cameras caught this was another story – there was a lot of explaining to do, many in which was difficult to put in proper words.
At the very least, they had found themselves now with a jacket draped over their shoulders, awkwardly being lead by Mette, who was, quite efficiently, trying to keep as many eyes off their back as possible. It was also the third time that Rita had asked if they were able to walk ok – yes, thank you very much, mom – before making a beeline to one of the kiosks to nab them some train tickets.
Part of them yearned to break free, and get as far away from the two before they got too familiar with them. It’s very quickly dimmed by the fact that, with something so bizarre occurring, it was impossible for them to simply brush it off as something ‘common’. How, pray tell, were they going to proceed with their mission in secret, if their back was an immediate sign that read ‘hey, looking for the bomber? They’re right here!’ Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. And the only people who did know about magic, from what they knew, were very much aware of this unusual change.
How bitterly convenient for those two lovebirds.
And, speaking of lovebirds, Rita had bounced back, waving the tickets about, before assigning one for each of them – it looked like they were headed to her home, or at least, definitely not the neighborhood that they were familiar with.
At the very least, there, they would be safe, and not to mention, a house with food (they even warily asked what was for dinner, and nearly jumped with anticipation when they were told it was pizza), but the simple fact that they were magical, and probably eager to solve the recent bombing sprees…
Well, it was a bit awkward to be that said bomber, whom was also magical, being invited to their house for delivery grade pizza thanks to an inconvenience of, well, something happening to them.
And whatever it was, it involved suddenly having – no, maybe growing – a set of feathery, rust colored wings.