In a world torn between heroes and villains, it can be a dangerous and hostile place. Some take comfort in the Gifted that stand up against those who would use their powers for greed and chaos. While others choose to hide away, fearful of the day...
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There was a time when Elaina Hart went to bed cursing the stars.
She'd wrap up her quiet days with even quieter nights, sitting alone in her little cabin as she wondered why she even bothered. Every once in a while, she'd take the path down to the river and follow it to where the waters dropped into a rocky basin before continuing its journey to the ocean.
She'd stand on the ledge of the cliff, looking down and visualizing the waters running red with her blood. She wasn't sure what she hoped to accomplish with the exercise, but after a while, she found herself numb to the gruesome imagery. In fact, it almost felt comforting. The problem is she would always grant the stars one last look, to remind herself of why she was doing this, to recall the terrifying pull of a Gifted's light. But, in return, her anger would inflame and her fists would clench.
Patronizing fucks, she'd curse at the night. It's so easy to look down and judge.
She would prove them all wrong. Prove to them she was better, that she was stronger than they were, that she could live outside of society and keep them safe from herself. Dying wouldn't prove her point. It would instead show that the Gifted didn't know how to live without hurting others. She hoped that one day her struggle could be a beacon for others, a model for the Gifted on how they can live their lives without collateral damage. She wanted her life to have meaning.
She hated the stars for reminding her how far away she needed to be from humanity to stop herself from burning anyone that approached her. Yet, now she'd do anything to see those stars again. Until then, however, she took in the simple pleasures, like waking up to the sounds of birds.
Her eyes fluttered, coaxed by the trilling of their morning song. Through her lashes, she spotted a ceiling composed of rough-hewn wood dappled by the morning light. She breathed in deep and winced as the pain in her bruised ribs reminded her of what had transpired. Not that she knew how many days it's been since Shockwave battered her, but it felt like an eternity.
With a groan, she rolled to her side and dug her face into her pillow. As she cozied into the soft fabric, the scent of lavender encompassed her. The sweet scent eased the tensions in her muscles. The smell had always had that effect on her, which is why she would put sprigs of lavender into a little sachet she kept under her pillow.
As she savored the scent of the flowery perfume, the touch of the warm morning sun, and the sound of the birds' distant song, a whispered epiphany turned into a loud shout.
"The fuck!" she cried as she popped out of bed and found herself sitting upon the little mattress in her cabin home. "How? Why?"
She stumbled off the bed and looked out her window to find a chilly spring morning with frosted grass blades sparkling in the early sunlight. With her pulse racing, she crawled across her loft and gazed down at her living room. She prepared herself for a rough descent until she saw something amiss in her little home. Something that stopped her in her tracks.
