Ivette Midoriya absolutely hated heroes. The whole concept baffled her; how could those who declare themselves to be symbols of justice be so corrupted? How could society judge people based on their quirks and appearances? Fuck that. Ivette swore to...
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SECRETS ARE SUCH sweet epiphanies, don't you think? That moment when one realises they have something valuable to keep to themselves, something that makes themselves or another vulnerable, and they cherish it with their hearts because wow, it's such a beautiful thing. To have someone trust another so much. But if it's your own?
How do you give it up?
That tiny, sacred part of you?
Ivette couldn't. Or rather, she didn't think this voice in her head or the power thrumming through her veins was a secret. It was simply a nightmare that appeared during the day and kept her up late at night.
Yet, nightmares should only occur during the time where twilight blessed the country and Ivette was fast asleep in her bed.
Why was her nightmare constantly yapping away endless persuasions in her head?
As Oscar Wilde once said, behind every exquisite thing is a great tragedy, and Ivette, who was intrigued by everything exquisite, had a great tragedy living in her mind.
