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彡 ·˚ ༘ ꒱ #The Beginning
↳ ★ ☆
━━━━(THREE YEARS AGO,FBI ACADEMY)
HUMAN EMOTION IS LIKE THE OCEAN. It is endless and murky, and has the face of something so beautiful and calm, but hides the darkest and sharpest of feelings.
Feelings that Lucille Florence knew too well.
Tiny droplets of sweat rolled down the sides of Lucille's face while she waited. She had never been the greatest at standing on a stage in front of everyone — then again, who was? Molten anxiety scolded away the center of her chest, increasing tenfold with every person who joined her on the raised platform at the FBI Academy. It wasn't simply the fact that she was nervous; it was the fact that a majority of the people around her were — Lucy knew that it was them making her stomach twist viciously into unkempt knots and braids. She mentally cursed her own mind and the soon-to-be agents around her, knowing they were the main cause of her nauseousness.
A synchronised roar of clapping snatched the 20-year old prodigy from her thoughts, an awkward smile adorning her gentle mouth. Many agents, both new and old, eyed her up and down as left hands collided with right, and vice versa. Lucille Florence joined the rest of her graduating class in thanking their teachers and— well, anyone in sight really. It seemed appropriate, despite the fact Lucy knew she was only here for one reason and one reason only; her ability to empathise. She shook her head, trying to physically discard the sombre thoughts that plagued her already-troubled mind. She had just graduated the FBI Academy, and was officially an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation ‒ how many other twenty-year old's could say that?
Lucy was then in front of her favourite person in the universe ‒ Special Agent Michael Harrison. Not only had he privately helped the young girl with her extreme education, but he'd also been a shoulder to cry on. It was no secret to her peers that she was, well, special in the eyes of the FBI, and for whatever reason; be it jealousy, anger, worry—whatever; she was not accepted by them. Not that she really wanted to be, though. Being around so many pretentious, egotistical chauvinists was not exactly high on Lucille's list of necessities —she could just about deal with them from a distance. Michael grinned at the girl he'd come to love as his daughter as she stood before him, a bashful smile on her face. "Welcome to the FBI, kid." he offered proudly, the two shaking hands in a professional yet joking manner.
