INSURGO [ongoing]

ONE

"Why can't you be more like Cydian?!" Jecht Vinepelt roars at his stepson, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Why can't you disappear like him?" Cormac retorts.

"You spiteful little-"

"Warning! High levels of anger detected. Warning!-" the house alarm chimes in.

Cormac chuckles wryly, crossing the living room to deactivate the alarm.

"That's the third time you've triggered the alarm this week, Jecht. One more strike and your buddies at the precint will haul you in."

Silence.

"Although I do believe being arrested by your own co-workers would be the highlight of this year-" Cormac begins.

"Good morning to you both," Cyra Ocean mutters, emerging from her room. Her coily, dark hair is in twists, sitting in a bun on the top of her head.

Grabbing a green apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter, she makes a beeline for the front door, slamming it behind her.

As Cyra walks to school, she eats her apple demurely, taking in her surroundings. The cool Friday morning was beautiful, with trees swaying ever so slightly in the wind. The breeze makes her scarf flutter, causing her to tuck its loose end into her jacket. A hoverbus whizzes past Cyra, with a few hovercars following suit. Some of her neighbours are out on their morning strolls. Two of them, Mr. and Mrs. Bloomsing, are jogging on the sidewalk across from her. Cyra waves to them, which they return enthusiastically. She begins to count the lines on the sidewalk, a part of her daily routine. This day is going to be different though.

She can feel it.

Cyra wishes her brother and stepfather got along. She knows this is a heavy wish, especially since Cormac instigated most of his fights with Jecht. Sometimes Jecht would let it go, but most times he did not. They had physically come to blows once and Cyra remembered it vividly. She was sitting on a couch in the living room, trying to sketch her mother's vase. Jecht was standing at the front door, interrogating Cormac for taking his hovercar without asking, and for leaving a dent in it.

An impatient Cormac shrugged and pushed Jecht out of his way. Jecht shoved Cormac in retaliation, his six-foot frame stumbling backwards. Cyra fled to her room, listening as angry words were yelled and objects were thrown around. Her mother, Maura, came home to see both men bruised, and her favourite vase shattered. Maura refused to speak to either of them for the rest of the week, which proved very awkward when Cyra and Cormac's grandparents came over for dinner the following night.

Cyra continues walking to school, throwing her apple core in the nearest compost bin. She pulls her sage green scarf over her nose and ears, shivering from both the memory and the weather. She could see her school now, towering over its surrounding buildings. Cormac and Cydian used to walk her to school. Her twin brothers making up silly games and trying to get Cyra to laugh.

 Sometimes, Cyra would tell them jokes, causing the boys to throw their heads back in laughter, their shoulders dancing. In addition to their blonde hair and blue eyes, the way they laughed further elaborated their twinship. Both boys were two peas in a pod and always got involved in mischief. Cyra preferred to stay out of trouble and had interests that were starkly different from her brothers. But Cydian and Cormac never made her feel left out and did not care that she was adopted. 

A year ago, Cydian disappeared after the twins' graduation and it was tough on the family, especially on Cormac, whose personality changed for the worse.

Now, seventeen-year-old Cyra is in her last year of transition school and hopes to become one of Uniterra's few sketch artists. Her heart begins to skip as she thinks of her beloved pastime. To Cyra, sketching was one of the one things that kept her grounded. When she felt the blustery winds of life trying to pick her up and throw her into despair, she could reach for her sketchbook. Her anchor.