Accentuate the Accent

Blue Rain

   ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )  - heavy angst warnings; SERIOUSLY, if you have had any disconcerting experiences considering your gender, please be advised. nothing too serious, i promise, but i know how sometimes the slightest mentions of something that bad just... bothers people. other than that, i'd say it's a pretty fluffy update nhyeh. - ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) 

    

You rubbed your temples with harsh thumbs. There just wasn't anyway around this, was there? No, you figured. Not in this lifetime. Your landlady had not only been incredibly rude with returning your calls, but she had the audacity to raise your rent from the humble bit of seven hundred, to seven-fifty without notice. Your apartment isn't even seven hundred square feet.* You believe the most it was, was five hundred square feet.* You can't possibly use the fifty bucks it takes to pay your water bill to pay this new fee. You can't go into the fifty dollars it takes to buy you food for at most four days. You couldn't possibly ask for more hours when the diner gives you more than enough.

You'd wish things were a little easier, or at least like they used to be, but that would be getting rid of a lot of good things. It's the end of the first week of November, and you couldn't have been in a more embarrassing state. Cronus had gone to a party of a friend's: Feferi, her name was. They had come home drunk, carried in, practically, by someone who did not speak, but waved "hi" and "goodbye" anyway. He had the wildest hair... You sighed gently and ran your thumbs over the top of Cronus' hand.

It wasn't that they were still recovering from their hangover on Halloween, it was just that they had been hospitalized afterwards and needed their stomach pumped. Lord knows what happened at that party, but you had to stay for at least the whole week straight to care for them. They requested you hold their hand for reassurance... There were somethings you became sullen upon hearing.

Cronus never seemed like the person to lose their composure, but when they partially recovered on November 1st, they told you a lot.

"I never wanted to be who I was,"

"No one quite liked me like I liked me,"

"I needed to change." It was frightening to say the least. You'd somehow been grafted into this family on the basis of being there for them. Cronus told you about their mom, and how they never wanted someone like her in anyone's life. Cronus was Mischa, a female born and raised off the shore of Ireland for roughly three years. After migrating to the states, to live under Abraham's secured homestead, she received her brother. "Mom always liked Eri best..." It broke your heart. It breaks your heart now. Mischa, of course, did as she was told: chores, got good grades, respected everyone, had little odds-and-ends obsessions (you chuckle at the thought of all the Travolta posters in their room now) and represented the family well.

However, Mischa wasn't happy. She didn't feel like Mischa, she didn't feel female. There was something - no, someone - different that she saw when she looked at herself in the mirror. Out-of-body experiences after out-of-body experiences, she finally had enough. At the age of twelve, she asked her mom for help. Luckily Abraham stopped most of the catastrophic outbreak but the damage had already been done.

"Excuse me? What is this shit you're spewing? Is it April Fool's, or do I have "idiot" written on my face?" She hit Mischa, too; it explains the scars on their forehead. Their mother always wore rings. No one ever knew where she got the money for the kind of jewelry she had, but once she left, they pawned most of it anyway. You nearly cried with them, helpless against the fact that you couldn't do anything to soothe the years of abuse. Cronus smiled the brightest when they told you their treatments were going so well, that by next year in the spring, they'd physically match the muscle mass of their father. What a figure, huh? You couldn't imagine this sweet little thing looking nearly as rugged or buff as their father.