" I am the sea, and nobody owns me. "
Born with a gift that's seen as a curse, a young woman must try to regain some kind of normalcy in a world that sees her as a monster.
Suicide Squad | Sunny Scribbles 2023
Bloodsport| Robert DuBois| Mature Rating
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In a matter of weeks, things seemed to go back to a normalcy that Amila was sure she'd hate. Within two months the summer heat had subsided and Brockport was busier than ever. She took advantage of the growing chaos to keep her distracted. Endless droves of drunk sailors, nameless faces, and traveling tourists kept her mind from wandering, and every time she was reminded of Robert, her fellow bar backs was there to distract her. She'd never admit to any of them how she was feeling, but as a whole, they'd noticed her fizzled demeanor and had taken a chance here or there to strike up a conversation or give her something to do.
" Amila, you look better today mermaid, " Tracy's pet name for Amila made her face sour as she playfully elbowed her and sent a sweet smile her way. Her friend had been watching her closely, noticing her personality completely change when the familiar sailor had stopped coming in to visit her.
" More like angry squid, " Kenny eyed her from the other end of the bar, sneering at Amila and laughing quietly at his own joke. The sea witch silently turned to the jester and watched him for a moment, shortly after he began to choke on his own spit.
" God Kenny, you can't even breath right!?" Tracy scowled at her nephew, shooting him an annoyed, wide-eyed glare, and shooing him into the back.
The 22-year-old shot Amila a bewildered look as he entered the swinging door to the kitchen. Tracy sighed and readjusted herself and helped Amila prepare for the rush. Around six pm she was requested at the end of the bar by a gentleman, and for a split second, her heart sank into her stomach. She immediately stopped what she was doing and weaved around the other bartenders, only the man that was waiting for her wasn't the one she was hoping to see.
Myron's vibrant rose-colored hair always singled him out in any room he entered. He never kept it short, instead opting to grow it out and leaving it in a braid behind him. The Atlantean was sporting a matching beard and currently sipping from a wide rim mug. The moment his seafoam eyes caught sight of his daughter, his face lit up. Myron stood up from his barstool, an excited grin crossing his face as he rose up to meet her, his figure easily towering over most of the patrons in the bar. Amila paused for a moment, shooting the older man an annoyed look as her brows furrowed.
" Dad, what are you doing here? " Amila spoke quietly, glancing behind her as some of her coworkers had started to stare.
" My little love, " Myron had picked up a trail of a Norwegian accent as he spoke. His volume increased, causing her to grimace further.
She gave her father a shallow hug and tried to convince him to leave the bar so they could have a conversation without peeping ears. Myron wasn't having any of it.
"Millie, It's been a long time. " Myron pulled back and sat down, wrapping his wide palms around his frosty mug. He beamed at her, the short smile not leaving his face as she continued to look displeased.
