Clover Blake's Story

▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐

IMOGEN HUXLEY

---

Hexcode : #f70046 // Oufit : Vintage

---

---

CLOVER BLAKE

---

Hexcode: #E78E8E // Outfit: Hippie

---

▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐

---

---

Despite how many foster families he'd been in, this was the first time that Ollie had actually been in an airport. The plane itself had been much better than he'd expected- better than a car, at least. As he reached the baggage claim, his battered suitcase and even more battered duffel bag had just begun their journey around the carousel. He grabbed them and made his way out to the entrance hall. Despite the fact that his new foster mom had told him that a driver would be picking him up, he still found himself looking for her. But all he found was a driver with a sign that read his name.

The car journey held the usual anxiety. He really, really wished there was some sort of alternative- but evidently there wasn't. He'd overheard the conversation between his care worker and Dalia, telling her about all of his... quirks. About his hatred for cars and water and his recurring nightmares. And about everything that had happened. Dalia had said she'd be able to handle it, but Ollie honestly doubted it. He was willing to bet that he'd be sent back at some point. But perhaps that wouldn't happen until he was eighteen, and he wouldn't have to actually go back. He'd finally be free.

The car journey was long enough to drive him almost insane, so when they pulled up outside the house, he was out of the car as soon as it had more or less stopped. He had his backpack on his back and his two other bags in his hands before he noticed the two other girls standing on the doorstep. One was blonde and incredibly well dressed- enough so to make him almost feel underdressed in his hoodie and jeans. The other was dark-haired, with her hair in a messy braid. Not even a stylishly messy braid like so many of the girls back in his last school used to wear- a genuinely disheveled braid. So he wasn't going to be an only child.

He headed up to the porch, forcing a bit of a smile onto his face. They were both somewhat familiar, but he couldn't put a name on either of them. "Hey," he simply said by way of greeting.

   
   
   

Greyson hadn’t experienced excitement before, so much so that she wasn’t really able to recognize the feeling. She had to hitchhike her way from Santa Cruz, California with just her pack slung over her shoulder and a money belt wrapped around her waist under her clothes. She hadn’t been able to shower in over two days outside of washing up in the sink of gas stations, fighting off the stink of body odor but hardly smelling like flowers. Although her hair was short and low maintenance, it was obvious it too had lacked care over the last few days. The pieces that usually fell in gentle waves to frame her soft, dark features had been pulled through her fingers time and time again until it fanned out in frizzy straight lines. Under her eyes were dark circles, but those were normal.

Her black vans shuffled across the road, the New Orleans humidity made her movement sluggish. One hand gripped a map where she had marked her route, the other held the strap of her back that was slung over her shoulder trying to relieve some of the pressure. At the end of the street she dropped the pack to her feet, hunching over as sweat dripped off her forehead to splash onto the road beside her foot. She couldn’t help but to smile to herself, the trek seemed like it would never end and now that she was at the finishing line it felt like she was losing momentum. She reached into her pack to pull out her bottle of water, only a few swigs was left. Greyson took a large gulp then poured the rest over her head, the tepid water felt more refreshing than any sort of air conditioning or body of water could provide.

Her black t-shirt dress had been her only outfit during her journey, brushing past the tops of her thighs. Unfortunately most of her clothes were in fact black, which was unfavorable in the sun. She had the compulsion to find a bathroom to fix herself up, change her clothes, make a good impression. Greyson had never felt the compulsion to make a good impression before, but in this moment she inexplicably felt the need. Something in her gut was pushing a feeling she had never felt before, one she couldn’t put into words.

But she was too eager to stop, Greyson hiked her pack back on and kept walking. It would only be twenty more minutes until she arrived.


As she walked, mosquitos bit her legs, causing her to twitch. Santa Cruz never had so many bugs, but the marshy terrain of New Orleans had flocks of mosquitos breeding in every puddle. Greyson was not meant to live in such humidity. Twenty minutes felt like eons, but when she turned up the path that led to the address she had been given - all the weight fell from her shoulders. There were three figures on the porch, two girls and a boy. From the moment she saw the boy, albeit the back of his head, her heart clenched.

Flooded with feelings, Greyson immediately dropped her bags and turned around, walking to the end of the path. She never had felt such a surge of emotions, the most she ever felt was the loss of her family after the war. This feeling wasn’t loss, it was almost fulfillment…and while she had no way to prove it she had a sensation that this boy would complete a piece of her. She couldn’t describe it.

Remaining at the end of the path next to the mail box, Greyson lit a cigarette. Her hands were shaking, and her mind was scattered - she wasn’t sure if the others had noticed her or not but she abandoned her bags half way up the walkway. Until she had a better grasp on the situation she wouldn’t be able to move from her spot.

---

The journey from France to New Orleans was a long one but thankfully his foster parents made the trip slightly bearable by getting him first class seats on his plane here along with ordering a limo set to his standards to pick him up from the airport. It still took a couple hours of a drive thanks to the traffic from the airport so Joaquin ended up helping himself to a bottle wine. It wasn't great as the bottles he had back home but it would have to do. After all, his adoptive parents had given him enough money to buy more quality things once he got there. He could make do for now and deal with such 'common' drink upon his lips before being reunited with a girl he's always considered his sister. His real family.

The limo finally stopped making Joaquin the last to arrive. He fixed his suit making sure there were no imperfections before the driver opened the door and Joaquin stepped out. He walked with such poise hoping all eyes were on him as he walked towards the door. Jooaquin was always one to enjoy a grand entrance. He was soon stopped in his tracks when the sight of blonde hair was first to catch his attention and he made his way towards her in a suave manner as he looked her over. "Mon dieu, you've certainly grown well mon amour." He gave a flirtatious smirk before taking Imogen's hand and kissing the back of it.

Joaquin would have continued with his advances if a certain feeling hadn't dragged his attention away from her. He looked past the small group of unimportant strangers before him until his eyes laid upon what he really came here for. There she was standing before him with her piercing blue eyes and messy braid that fit her so perfectly. "Il peut't être" He practically stumbled as he stepped towards her and brought his hands up to hold her face just to make sure she was real. "My little Clover?" Tears began streaming from his eyes as he pulled her into a tight embrace and didn't want to let go. He didn't want to lose her again. "I thought I lost you forever." His voice practically cracked as more tears rolled down his cheeks and to the top if her head while he held her there.

---

They told him nothing, save for that he would be leaving permanently and to pack his bags. A good ol' don't let the door hit you on the way out. Not like Corbett expected much from his oh so 'generous' caretakers. They had seen to it that the past few years of his life was a living hell - and he returned the favor tenfold. So it was with great pleasure that he packed his crap and hit the road. Taking his time in a fashion that reminded him of foggy childhood memories. Travel pack strapped tight and feet aching with regret the second he hits that second mile. He of course wasn't capable of going on foot the entire way, but saving up what little money he had was a must. Especially since he knew nothing about what awaited him in New Orleans.

He took a late flight, planning on getting there with enough time to see some sights and get a feel for his newest jail cell - at least until I'm eighteen. He thinks to himself. Withering suddenly at the thought of being so far away from the last known place that he saw Imogen. How would he find her now? How could he even begin to track her down. He had no chance. Not being so far from home....

"Ugh," He slumps against the window. Feeling sick from both the anxiety and the altitude. He's never been a fan of planes, even if this is his first time actually getting on one. Even seeing them in movies, or on TV he could tell they were nothing but bad news; metal death traps at best. He tries, and fails to shake the imagery of the plane going down in his head. In his mind there is the sound of grinding metal, screams all around him, and the pungent scent of smoke; he doesn't realize he's fallen asleep till he's shaking awake. Cold chills creeping up his spine from just the very thought.

He checks his watch, 11:23PM.

After what feels like hours the plane finally, and thankfully comes to a safe spot. Corbett steps out, nearly ready to kiss the ground in relief. He takes stock of his surroundings, going through the long process of retrieving his pack from baggage claims and then running through more scanners. By the time he leaves the airport in a rusted old cab he just wants to sleep for days. He had planned on doing some sightseeing before heading off the the address written on the back of his hand, but he knew that it would take too much out of him. He just wanted to sleep....

---

He knew at least on a basic level that this was more or less another home to him, one that was perhaps much less rough than his last one. He really wanted to believe that some good would come out of this but there was always that skepticism hiding just behind every single thought. He had only been able to speak briefly with Dalia, to touch base and they had not been given enough time for her to explain much to him besides a vague "you may be able to see Imogen again." Which for whatever reason didn't mean anything to Corbett - he couldn't trust a stranger, and he wouldn't until he saw Imogen again.

Whatever the case he didn't expect to step out of the dinky cab and into a world of confusion. His pack weighed heavy on him as he trudged to the front porch of the quaint house. His heart working over time as he caught sight of someone who he hadn't seen in a very long time. His heart felt as if it would explode, eyes burning with tears but he blinked and clenched his teeth to stop the fall. Excitement like he had not felt in such a long time coursed through him, the very sight of her brought him back to a childlike state of giddiness.

"Imogen!" He couldn't help himself, at her side in an instant with a grin stretched wide over his face. He never thought in a million years he would see her again. And yet here they stood, Espirit and Aerea reunited again.

---

---

---

A knock gently hit Kai's door but it was the voice that stirred him in his sleep. "Kai. Time to get up and get ready. Our first arrival should be here any minute." He rolled over in his bed and muttered something that sounded like gibberish as his voice cracked from a dry throat. His hand reached over for the partially filled water bottle on his night stand and he chugged it's remaining contents of metallic water before checking the time on his phone and forcing himself out of bed. He walked rather slowly with his eyes only half open as he threw his clothes on for the day and checked to see how many smokes he had left. There were three.

"Kai!" He heard Dalia yell as she hustled to the door for the first guests to arrive and something odd began tugging at him. Kai simply brushed it off for the time being and he pushed the doors open of his room out onto the balcony to overlook the backyard. Kai was the first to get contacted and the first to arrive a couple weeks ago when Dalia set up his new job at the near by high school along with helping her get the house ready for all the new arrivals of freaks and geeks.

Kai using one hand to open up his pack and his lips pulled out one of his cigarettes while his free hand lit the lighter and the end up his cigarette letting the sensation of burning tobacco and menthol rush into mouth and lungs instantly making Kai feel amazing and relaxed. He stood out there enjoying his freshly lit cigarette until it just barely reach the start of the filter while he ignored the feeling that kept pulling at him.

The butt of the cigarette got tossed into the ashtray and Kai escaped back into his room and out to the hallway and into the bathroom to relieve himself like any normal human being, brush his teeth, run a comb through his hair and put it in a bun, wash his face, and spray some cologne when he heard voices get ushered into the house and Dalia screamed for him yet again, "Kai! If you're not down here in the next five minutes, I'm coming up there."

Kai laughed and rolled his eyes as he descended the stairs and called back to his new den mother, "Bloody hell, Dalia! You can't rush perfection!" He came into the dinning room and the sight of hair that burned red light beautiful perfect flames caused him to stop instantly in his tracks as that feeling he'd been ignoring grew even more and suppressed memories clawed their way trying to make him remember one of the worst days of his life. The life he swore to protect. The life that had been ripped away from him. They were right there standing before him and he couldn't even remember their name.

He tried to step forward but his legs grew weak and his eyes changed as his powers forced him to remember the girl. Forced him to remember everything he wanted to forget. Everything that made him cry as a small boy at night because he failed. He failed her and here she was perfectly fine. Kai fell to his knees as his eyes returned to normal and the memories faded away and all he could manage to say was one word. One name. "Ashleigh..."

▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐

IMOGEN HUXLEY

---

Hexcode : #f70046 // Oufit : Vintage

---

---

CLOVER BLAKE

---

Hexcode: #E78E8E // Outfit: Hippie

---

▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐

   
   
   
The constant stream of people was overwhelming, Greyson could feel her stomach twisting. They all walked past her like a weed in the grass, not that she expected any different. Everyone else seemed to have groomed themselves immaculately, prepared to make a positive first impressions, she seemed like a vagabond in comparison. Heavy air filled her lungs, smoke twisting in the air above her. Gently french words floated from the porch ahead, catching her ear. The dark tall man had a heavy French accent, as well did the blonde he embraced. Had these people been in Europe all this time while she was forced to live in the land of Prep?

Her confusing feelings of happiness were subdued by frustration. How did all these people have connections and she did not? She could blame her dysfunctional parents, who dragged her away from Dimoni community before she even had a chance to find her other half, and when the Dimoni most needed to be united. Greyson reached for another cigarette when she heard her name called out. "Come on over here, it's alright, darling.” Dalia called from the door.

Her movement was jilted, but she carefully put her cigarette back into the pack. While everyone else followed suit, Greyson’s eyes were glued to the back of the brown haired boys head, who’s name she had no idea but she knew he was going to be everything to her. She picked up her bags on her way into the house, lagging behind everyone else. It seemed like most attention was on the two other girls, it wasn’t like Greyson to be jealous but she couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Was this house just another world where she didn’t belong?

She left her bags and herself at the fringe of the group, she thought the room was spinning - but really she was the one rotating the room. Her steps kept her gingerly on the outside of the group, until she found herself beside the brown haired boy. Her body was moving without her own knowledge, a delicate hand reached out. She thought she was only going to tap his shoulder, but instead her hand just rested there. There was an immediate electricity that ran up the length of her arm. There was a surge of power from within her, the twisting feeling in her gut made the darkness within her grow. Naturally she felt the compulsion to panic, but she felt oddly calm when she looked up at the boy.

”Hey,” She said, unable to to articulate herself further.

───────────────────────────────
Dalia's Safe House
───────────────────────────────



───────────────────────────────
Ashleigh McGowan
hex: #ff4000
───────────────────────────────

▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐