Eye of the Needle: Into the Reikai

Avery II: A Cage for Crows

He didn't mind a forest stroll, but it would have been tiers better if a kid with anger issues hadn't sliced him up beforehand. All things considered, it was a pretty tense situation for Avery leading up to that.

Why would DeMain be so mad? It wasn't like his mom was special, she clearly wasn't a witch based on Avery's interactions with her. Of all things, DeMain cared that Avery was trying to give him some more freedom from his parent—something the usual teenager would be giddy as a girl over. Avery didn't understand, and he wasn't really sure if it was worth trying to. DeMain was clearly new to... everything. The existence a witch was doomed to lead, one of endless disappointments and measurable consequences. Avery was certain Ethel was cozying up to DeMain more anyhow, what with how many times she'd taken his side in their usual conflicts.

It all bothered him, but he just wasn't in the mood to bother with it in return. With a wave of his proverbial hand the ounce of care was gone, and Avery returned to the usual melancholy feeling of mental grayness. It wasn't enough to quell his ceaseless mind, but at least it extinguished the fire of worries that flared with them.

...And of all things, DeMain gets to commune with a New Witch God on his Awakening. Avery couldn't speak, his own Awakening had been hell on earth and he didn't wish it upon anyone, even in the nightmares he gave people. The gnawing of envy was stronger than the gnawing of hunger in Avery's gut from walking for so long. DeMain treated him like he was some spoiled richie from the upstate hills or something, when DeMain had everything he never had. Loving family, a mother willing to toss away her own shame for her son, (supposedly) a hardworking father figure, and so on and so forth endlessly.

Avery's mind stung as he pictured his mist freezing and sharpening into cruel spears, piercing DeMain over and over until he understood what Avery had lived through. As soon as they had formed his own shame melted them away. Why bother trying to be something he wasn't? Avery knew he was set to be a pathetic, wriggling creature under the rocks of the rest of humanity. DeMain had gotten lucky, being able to choose his own fate and receiving an ability which would grant him a degree of control over his own life no matter what happened. Avery's seeds of doubt and control took weeks to sew for results, DeMain could just stab them right then and there. He supposed a gun wouldn't be a half-bad idea in the future. Something small, easy to conceal if he needed to use it.

The train tracks Avery had been following loosely along the line of the forest had curved back and forth so many times he'd lost count. Luckily it was one path, but it was as if he were following a great serpent that had carved its path through sandy dunes. Avery wasn't really sure if the areas around the train's pathways were dangerous, but he felt so murky, dried, and horrible inside he would welcome another violent buck in rut season.

His shoes eventually found themselves matching pace with the old wooden boards of the train tracks, now standing in the dead center as he tempted fate that the train would not return so soon. Anger welled in Avery's heart so suddenly and so fiercely that he couldn't hold back the roar of anguish that overtook him. Compelled by drastic desire, he outstretched his hand as if to perform some epic feat only to be met with... nothing.

Why? What was so drastically different between him and some irritable kid that he wasn't worth any ability to defend himself? Ethel's abilities as a medium weren't exactly threatening, but being able to summon a spirit to assist you whenever you needed was arguably more effective than the long game that was Avery's skill set. He could put people to sleep and gradually manipulate them, yes, but that was sorely ineffective when it really mattered. Avery doubted that he could even kill someone physically even if he had put them to sleep. He was skin and bones with a pretty enough face that it made him a target. Long, silky, sort of greasy hair that attracted all the wrong people, and yet he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it because he looked so ugly and unrecognizable without it.