𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄, apply fic

𝙞𝙫. finding oxygen

TW // drowning, blood

( ARIA'S POV )

THE RAIN POURED. The flames burning through the trees were no more. We'd lost a roof over our heads, and we were soaked.

     "How the fuck did you just do that?" Miren asked Giovani, who struggled to dry his clothes amidst the cascading rain.

     "I don't know!" He shouted, the sound of the crying heavens increasing by the minute.

     The branches were bare, and the bark looked of ashes that were sculpted into the shape of a trunk. The chances of finding a covering was down by eighty percent. Of all places— it just had to be a garden overflowing with beauty and life.

     "So," Issac started. "When does your gift stop giving?" He asked, managing to keep his usual moderate— and almost amused— tone.

     "Any time now," Giovani answers with sarcasm. The rain trickled down our lips and onto our chests, making a usual conversation hard to hold. Nodding our heads down couldn't make the situation any better. It was difficult to breathe, the lack of oxygen—

     Oxygen.

     How could I have almost forgotten about the plaque? Was it wrong that I'd rather think of the mystery than how we all plan on avoiding a fever tonight?

     My eyes shifted from the plaque, then onto Haven. My eyes widened at the sight, causing me to punch an elbow onto Mateo's rib.

     "Haven— your shirt."

     It caught everyone else's attention, directing their gaze onto Haven. And her awfully see-through shirt. The rain must've soaked through, her top going from opaque to translucent. The girl looked down to her chest, gave it a good stare, before meeting our eyes with no change in emotion whatsoever.

     "So?" Haven asked, like it was a perfectly normal situation.

     Mateo promptly took his polo off, revealing a white tank top underneath. He forcefully threw his garment towards Haven, giving her a swift look saying: cover yourself up, in a protective manner.

     Slowly, I felt lesser and lesser droplets of rain bouncing off my shoulder, which meant the gift bestowed upon us had almost withered away. I could hear everyone's sighs of relief.

     The raindrops remained on my cheeks however, still as a picture frame. If you looked close enough, you might see a hazy reflection of yourself.

     "You're in charge of damage control," Nayari told Giovani, giving him a stare that burned through his chest. The curls in her hair seemed to have multiplied, and her knitted sweater felt like a baggage to be carried over her shoulders.