therekindling

[therekindling]

Rachel sighs and tilts her head into Jean's touch. That is comforting. Aside from a few irrational moments she didn't really expect to get scolded for complaining about the wrong things, but she does still feel a little silly.

"Oh, I know it was probably a little unreasonable to expect to make team by eighteen even if I'd been training... properly... the whole time," she says, not wanting Jean to think she's being presumptuous about it. "If we'd had enough people... I'd probably have still been on the--" Did they have the New Mutants here? "Junior team. Tutoring or something. Just, you know, I was fourteen, I did a lot of daydreaming."

She pauses over the admonition not to compare herself to her brothers. Okay, Nathan and the older Stryfe showed up older than their parents; they absolutely have experience she's not going to match in terms of quantity for decades, in detail... well, she'd say maybe never, but apparently some older version of her knew Nathan and Nate when they were little. Still-- "I'll... try, I know we all have really different experiences, but... Um, I realize we're not asking for life stories, but I get the impression this might be more 'not fighting' than some of them have done in a awhile?"

Jean can understand how disconnected she must feel. Having all these ideas in your head of where you should be but aren't. It's something she knows all too well. However, it's the comment about being an X-Man that brings her pause. Some would argue that she herself had become an X-Man too young. Responsibilities put on a girl too young to fully understand the weight.

"Honey," Her voice is soft. Hand reaching towards Rachel in a way not to startle her and places a hand on her cheek. "You don't need to be rushing to be an X-Man. If that's what you really want, you will be one of the best. That I have no doubt of. Just enjoy being a kid right now. Which includes shopping, learning all kinds of things, and making silly mistakes."

"And don't you dare compare yourself to others. Especially your brothers. What you have done and experienced is inherently unique. Of course you're not going to be in the same place as someone who didn't have to fight like you did."

[therekindling]

@witchoflegends continued from here

Rachel runs her hands through her hair and makes a face when they come free abruptly at the ends. The long braid wasn't her idea; neither was having it cut off. "Sorry, this is stupid."

Now that she has to explain, it sounds worse. The important part about being a Hound is what Ahab made her do to other people. The second worst is what he did to her in the process. Missing stuff is a distant, distant third, a side effect; it's just bugging her now that she's somewhere normal, where she can accidentally think about what is and what she expected to be.

Unfortunately, she's committed now. "I guess I just keep thinking about things I thought I'd have done by now. High school." She manages a wry smile. "You know, some people I respect design the curriculum here, so I figure it's probably important. Um... driving." Scott is teaching her. "Powers training." The kind that's not all about finding and hurting people. Wouldn't have been with her mom, though. "I used to think I'd be an X-Man at this age, you know." Maybe not realistic.

Rachel huffs a little. "And now I'm here, and I'm glad I'm here, and I have a schedule and help for all of that, so that's great... but it took kid Stryfe to remind me I can go shopping, and he just got to this century!"

[therekindling]

@ficklefables From here.

Rachel laughs a little. "If he'd done it when he was with family, I don't think anybody would've blinked. With the New Mutants, it confused people so much."

[therekindling]

It was a good hug, tears and all, and Rachel held on tight until Madelyne pulled away. After Madelyne let go, Rachel sat back on her heels by the chair (never mind that she's floating) and wiped her own eyes. "You really don't need to apologize," she said. "We're family, after all." Too pushy? She really hoped not. A quick look around. "Oh... I don't want to leave you stuck with everything..." Never mind that telekinesis could make it a matter of a few minutes. "Let me help clean up real quick, and then I'll try to sleep?" At least, she thought with some rueful humor, then they wouldn't also spend all day trying to send each other to bed.

Madelyne hadn't been held in such a long time, she missed the comfort and safety that came with the embraced of another. Sinking into the hug she wrapped her arms around her niece and for a moment the two just shared that comfort.

Hearing her name and the concern in Rachel's tone shook Madelyne back into reality. She'd been sobbing, finally all the bottle up emotion had crashed out of her, she hadn't realised she'd held so much pain. Holding on so tightly the pain was suffocating her but she thought it was all she had left, looking into Rachel's eyes now she thought differently. Things would be different.

" I - " she started but her voice dry, clearing her throat a little and sitting back to adjust in her seat allowing Rachel to also find a comfortable position Madelyne tried again.

" I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how uncomfortable you must feel. Thank you for comforting me "

Sniffling while her breath was still returning to her natural rhythm Madelyne reflected on the night, it's been eventful. Noticing the clock she sighed seeing the time, almost five am. Students would be rising soon and the place would be alive with young mutant minds eager to learn and do teenage things she had no clue about. Rachel should sleep, Madelyne would clean up and be ready for the morning staff.

" I can't say you'll get much but you go on ahead and get whatever sleep you can, I'll clean all this up before the students venture in and don't worry I'm sure Scott and the others will be home soon "

[therekindling]

starchild

[therekindling]

"What?" Rachel blinks at him. "Yes, no, I'm fine. Let me see if I can explain..." She laughs a little. "...Uh, better than that." She gestures him vaguely back toward the chair and takes another one.

"This ability is pretty new to me, so I'm not really used to describing it. Basically, I... felt my way back through your past. I tried not to look at anything private," she adds hastily. "Um, let's see, I felt back along your trip through time and got a feel for when and where that started, and then... I went further to get a better sense of where home is for you." She could look at a map, but it... wasn't the same.

A deep breath. "So I can hopefully take you straight there instead of just somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean." A tiny smile. "You know. Tomorrow."

Gods, if she doesn't regret the offer, Odysseus might regret accepting it. It has the potential to get him home, but at what cost at this point? The discomfort is suffocating. Still, he'll comply for the potential for success; he sits down, pointlessly glances at the hand on his forehead when it's put there, but ultimately ends up closing his eyes because this is... odd. It's not. But it is a little.

It might be the longest silence he's ever endured, but he's patient... even if he's not quite sure anything is happening. He cracks an eye open at some point just to glance at Rachel before closing it again; at least she seems like she's doing something. Maybe he does feel something, an odd but faint pull, but he can't tell if it's actually happening or if he's just expecting to feel something. This is ridiculous.

"—Are you alright?" Ridiculous that is all-too-easily forgotten when when finally pulls away—between the hand shaking, as if she's literally trying to shake the feeling of whatever that was off, and the subtle discomfort (sadness?) in her expression, Odysseus is already on his feet again in case she could use a bit of support. The whole ordeal might not have felt like much to him, but maybe it was taxing for her.

"You'll have to tell me exactly what just happened," out of practical curiosity and a general fascination for just how distinct everyone's powers seem to be in this time, "but I won't ask if you need a minute. It wasn't too much, was it?"

[therekindling]

“You should act like a lady.”

"What, like pour boiling oil on invaders?"

[therekindling]

Give my muse advice they didn't ask for!

Can be about any topic you like. Go!

[therekindling]

Rachel can hardly regret the offer, but it has ended up feeling so awkward.

Still. She can time travel and apparently send objects through time by accident, unless that was an independent anomaly, which might be more concerning. She's pretty sure she can get back into the timestream. She can definitely read pasts. She did it to the star squeezy and then had a little trouble stopping, but it seems to be under control now. Doing it to people feels... odd. In fact, the intrusiveness of doing it to people by accident is what finally let her wrench it to a halt. But it definitely happens. This should be possible.

"Sure," Rachel says. Sitting down is, if nothing else, a little bit more relaxed and maybe a less awkward position.

Once Odysseus is seated, she puts her fingertips to his forehead, skims back through the past few days with as light an awareness as possible, and

falls through time

mentally, mentally only, though for a second she's unsure, the remembered maelstrom too vividly similar to her own experience in the timestream.

Back to the ocean, taste of salt. Fix that in her mind for the time.

Back back back back skim past don't need to see everything ignore go back back there, sense of home, take that as the place, feel the distance between that and the previous one, tantalizingly small compared to the distance through time and space from here. Compare the two, and something seems to snap into place, home at the time he left, destination, yearning.

She breaks away and shakes her hand out, blinking against the sting of tears. For him and for -- she can't put it in words. (Can't think about it now, she's never going back, there's no one there, any time she'd want to return to her original timeline there's already a child version of her there and she doesn't know how to fix anything. This is home for her now and she does love it but. --Not the time.)

"I think... I'm pretty sure I've got it."

@therekindling [let's do it this way instead-]

"Alright."

Odysseus has no idea what's going on, and given her vague description, it doesn't seem like Rachel has much of a clue, either (not that he could possibly hold it against her, given how willing she is to try for him either way). Chronoswimming? Skimming? Right now, the specifics don't matter. Just a little touch to orient herself and a couple more days, and he should be on his way back home. Finally. After everything he'd been through up until this point, antsy as he is, this is nothing in comparison. No promises, she says, but some part of him can't help but hold out hope this time.

Still, the man's standing awkwardly in the living room where it was said they'd meet. He's... not sure what to do with himself. Should he be doing something? No, probably not.

"So, how does this work? Do I just..." He's actually not even sure what to offer. "... Would sitting down make it easier?"

[therekindling]

Rachel isn't especially worried about the wood flying at her, even before it slows and falls. That she can block, though she regrets the destroyed trees.

Mostly, she's worried about what's happening to David... and whoever else is in there, she guesses, although she's definitely not thrilled with this Jack guy. She takes a step forward when he collapses, and then she stops herself because that might come across as aggressive.

Open her mind to him? Rachel's lips tighten. Not exactly a thrilling prospect. David, maybe. Jack, she would decidedly rather not. Multiple personalities who don't get along probably illuminate Xavier's concerns, too.

Then again, her telepathic training is... she'd like it to be better, but it's not bad. She should be able to handle herself even if she lets him read her mind.

And this is hurting him. Hurting the one who objected to attacking her, specifically, she's pretty sure.

Rachel groans a little to herself and drops to her knees too, on the ground. "I haven't lied to you," she says levelly, opening her telepathic shields.

Maybe it's stupid. Maybe it's going to wind up with this world in the same shape as the one she left, and that thought hurts. Maybe not cooperating would do that too, if he's everything Xavier thinks.

Maybe she can handle him, them, the angry one(s) if it's a trick or they take the opportunity. Maybe she's taking the risk because in another world her parents (and the Professor, whatever he's doing here) taught her to give people a chance, and she can't stand here and watch David and Jack and whoever tear themselves to pieces. "I'll tell you more now," she goes on, voice quiet. "I don't want to hurt you and don't want to imprison you or put you in a coma and I am really mad about, about that being done to you."

Closes her eyes for just a second. "I also have to tell you Xavier sent me. He wants you back. He told me, and probably really thinks, you're going to destroy the world somehow, possibly by accident. I think unless you plan to do that, there's got to be a better way to deal with it. I come from somewhere a lot of people were killed or imprisoned over maybes like that. I want to help you, want you safe and free and well, but I don't know how to do that." When Xavier's is the only home she knows.

   For a moment, Jack seems to jerk, body stiffening, and in the mind, in David’s mindscape, there is conflict.

   It’s not a brawl; it’s not pushing or shoving or punching. It’s nothing so physical, so real. It’s willpower and confidence. It’s a mind at conflict with itself, but it manifests as real as anything to the consciousness’ that inhabit this world within a teenager’s body.

   For David, it’s not pleasant. Sure, it’s not the full loss of control he’s used to. It’s not teeth in his throat, not mental flesh tearing and blackness in his brain. It’s a hand shoved into the back of his skull. It’s laboured breathing and knees to the technicolour ground. It’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and hands scrabbling uselessly at the wrist sticking out the back of his head. It’s a sneer on Jack’s face and his muscles tensing. It’s fingers digging deeper into David’s brain and it’s pain.

   Jack, please, David croaks. He feels Jack push hard. Feels the taller, better built personality trying to shove David’s consciousness down.

   “I’m doing this for us, kid. To keep us safe. She’s a threat, and you know it!” comes Jack’s snarled reply.

   Back in the real world, those same words slip from the body’s lips as Jack raises a hand. Nearby trees rip themselves out of the ground, rising into the air. They break and shatter, cracking and splintering into sharp shards. A vicious grin spreads across his face as he throws his hand forward, the wooden projectiles speeding to follow the motion. Twisted, broken wood sails at Rachel, each piece aiming to maim and kill.

   Jack enjoys this, and David just feels sick.

   There is another telepathic wave. It’s not a fully formed word or thought. It’s frustration and anger and guilt, but above all, it’s will. A pressure that accompanies the deadly splinters, losing momentum and once again the body jerks, but this time it collapses.

   David’s limbs go limp, and he drops to the ground. There is an aching gasp, focus sparking in his eyes. Yet, he curls in on himself, shuddering in exhaustion. This is taking a toll on his mind, on his ability to stay conscious. In his brain, David feels Jack’s rage and the anger of his other alters. He’s gone against the agreement, and that means a reckoning. His mental self hides away, scurrying into whatever nook or cranny his mind has. Hiding from the others, from the rage.

   “I-I can’t,” he starts, voice cracking. David pushes himself to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. “I can’t stay in control for long. O-open y’ mind to me. They’ll … We, we’ll only stop if we’re certain y’ not gonna hurt us or take us back. We … we need to know y’ not lyin’.”

[therekindling]

"What? Yes. Are you?"

She handed off the six-year-old clinging to her and could finally rub her eyes before she scrambled out of the crater and turned back to reach for Taro.

"Looking forward to a nap, I admit."

" mhm...! " they weren't always sure how to feel about teachers, especially this one. maybe they were just worried that she could tell they were not what they said they were; maybe that was just telepaths as a whole. there was always that worry, that concern when they were unreadable. still, even despite all of it she was nice, nice enough for them to pretend to be comfortable.

luckily, their balance was well enough, that if anyone needed help, they could offer it. taro shuffled a bit, glancing back over at rachel, then forward.

" are you okay...? "

@therekindling [ x ]

[therekindling]

Oops. Rachel realizes a little too late, as she finishes up, that David is drooping again. She should have paid more attention to how he was reacting.

Fortunately he does keep explaining, instead of being put off entirely. Granted, she knows just enough to be unsure whether she does know what he means by settings, because it might or might not be the same thing she would, but too much second-guessing won't help either.

"That's enough of an answer," she assures him. "I got a little carried away with the questions there, sorry. Let me just get some stuff to practice with -- come in?" She's less sure exactly where the things she wants are than she was of where she wanted to put the book.

Inside, after a little rummaging, she comes up with three Nerf balls, half a dozen uninflated rubber balloons, and a pair of bubble wands with accompanying soap solution. "The nice thing about soap bubbles for this," she says, "is you know they're going to pop eventually, but they're pretty in the meantime, and no matter how the telekinesis part goes, we get to spend some time blowing bubbles."

   David slouches as he looks down at Rachel, feeling both ashamed to have to ask this and bad for ruining her relaxation time. He's almost tempted to tell her not to worry about it and that he can figure it out on his own. Which he could, that's been his experience with his power for years. Just experiment and see what works, but it would be nice to get a perspective from someone else, and fortunately, Rachel agrees quickly.

   He straightens, and for a moment, he's excited. That practising with something fragile seems like a great idea. And then she keeps talking. Again, David's posture becomes terrible, but this time, his eyes sort of glaze over. Oh, he's listening, and he understands, but he did not think about any of that when he decided to pose this question.

   “Ah … I understood all o' that, but … I got no answers for y’,” he says, a hand rising to rub the back of his neck. Yep, he looks sheepish. Then a breath and his hands come together.

   “Listen, the thing with me is that I know I'm fully capable of subtle, precise actions, but I just don't have the trainin’ to get there. I'm …,” A pause, and he sucks his teeth as he tries to work out how to explain this. “I'm like a diamond cuttin’ tool that has multiple settings. There is an option for a precision laser, but my default settin’ is jack hammer, and I didn't come with an instruction manual that tells me how to turn to the precision laser settin’. Know what I mean?”

[therekindling]

[@amischiefofmuses Ray's replies from here]

It's just as well she can't overhear him thinking the note was foolish.

I am aware, I have it in hand. The reminder is appreciated, however.

Okay, great, just checking.

(She types You never answered about Mother's Day so I didn't know and then deletes it before sending. She understands why Nathan and Nate are tense about Stryfe and... Stryfe, at least, as much as she can without the direct experience her older self has/had/will-have. But they're tolerating them for a reason and the Stryfes are trying, even if sometimes both meanings apply, and it means a lot to Scott and Jean, and... They're right. Her versions of them raised her to think it was important to give people a chance to change, too. And she can't help getting attached to all four of her brothers, and she's trying not to make things worse. She doesn't need to pick at him.)

I will find a gift to give.

She stares at that one for a moment, remembering she only managed a note for Jean, pen and paper not her own, and...

With the possible exception of that one person who doesn't even live here, nobody's grudging her room and board or the phone and allowance. She grew up here-not-here, she can't imagine her parents or the Professor in any universe not being welcoming given the opportunity. It's part of why she came.

She still can't help but feel sometimes like even the younger brothers who don't know the calendar in this century yet have it more together than she does. Once upon a time she thought she'd be on the X-Men by this age.

But yeah, she can go shopping again. It's only been four years or so.

Sounds good. I'm writing him a note, too.

[therekindling]

A star explodes into existence in front of the firebird where no star should be. Rachel's first thought is to veer aside, her second that she might need to do something to protect the ground below. Instead, it fades to a young man (why was she so certain that was a star?) holding his hands out to her, speaking.

She backwings hard and pulls on her innate magic and the firebird's, contravening unmagical physics as much to slow her headlong flight as she was a second ago to speed it.

Is that the Prince? Granted, it's been a few years, but she doesn't remember anybody else's hair doing that.

She remembers hearing the Emperor mistrusted him, kept him penned up. It was a decision her parents discussed quietly, uneasy, all the more so given the voices who suggested her father should have taken the hint to be adopted before anyone knew David existed. As for control, her father and uncle both need enchanted devices to control their magic adequately. As for sanity--

Well, he did just put himself squarely in the firebird's path and calmly invite her to talk.

--Good.

She transforms back into a young woman at the last second and stops almost nose-to-nose with him, between his arms, the afterimage of fiery wings haloing them both.

Definitely Prince David. She's only seen him once before, posed and poised for a dramatic entrance to a court party he wasn't supposed to attend. The hair is the same, the sharp features -- accounting for lost time.

Rachel backs a little in the air, to a more reasonable distance, and curtseys. She remembers abruptly and with some consternation that she's in her chemise -- even enchanted silk didn't survive three years of exposure to the elements, but she made the linen last. It was cut generously enough that even now she's fully covered, but it's also still underwear, so she conjures a gown over it with the motion. It comes out a glory of feathers, extravagantly failing to suit the Prince's hunting gear.

"Certainly, Your Highness," she says, breathless but nearly steady. "But I haven't much time. Fly with me or ride, and kill me by dawn."

She transforms back into the firebird and gives him a few seconds to decide.

   A fire crackles gently beside him, bathing him in its warmth and light. David watches the smoke drift up past the canopy and into the star strewn sky. His gaze locks on those distant lights, the prince of Krakoa already picking out constellations and astral bodies. A small smile touches his lips as he basks in the cool touch of grass on his skin. He lays here, out in the wilderness, and for a time, he can fool himself into believing he is free. And then he shifts his left arm, knocking a stick with the bracer and letting loose the metallic ring.

   With a small groan, he closes his eyes, again so aware of the sickening magic that keeps watch upon him. He’s not sure if it’d be better or worse to end this Firebird business quickly. On the one hand, it means getting this thing off him, but on the other, it means going back to his gilded prison. A conundrum for sure. Although, the speed of this hunt isn’t up to him right now.

   No one has seen the Firebird since she attacked the capital of his Father’s empire about a week ago. Makes it hard to track her, but that doesn’t mean David has been lax. He went to see the only people that’d know enough about this creature to help in his quest. The Queen of the Grey kingdom and her consort. Jean was happy to help, giving him access to their archives and myths while recounting her experiences as the Firebird’s last host. Even Scott wasn’t as insufferably pretentious as usual. He’d wanted to help, even talking about the night the princess Rachel died and showing David her room, still with all her belongings in it.

   The mood did sour when David asked to see her body. There had been a sensation when he was in Rachel’s room, a feeling that all wasn’t as it seemed and he’d wanted to confirm his suspicious, but the Grey royalty were not receptive to it. Still, David got much from that visit. Enough that he is starting to believe he won’t have to kill a beautiful creature on this hunt.

   A flash of heat and light far above catches David’s attention. Eyes snap open, and he sees the after burst of a flame trail slicing across the stars. He sees gently falling sparks, their flickering light soothing. He sits up and quickly shifts onto his feet. The fire beside him sputters out, and with a push, David launches himself into the air, leaving a small crater behind in the clearing. His quick flight stops above the tree line, the prince floating in the night sky.

   Eyes lock on the great bird, her wings lighting up the sky like a new sunrise. He notes something different about her fire. It doesn’t seem as harsh. Less molten destruction and more healing hearth. He wonders what has changed, but he doesn’t have long to ponder because she is flying fast. With a huff, David focuses, grasping onto a specific type of teleportation. He vanishes from the air and then pops into existence with a flash and a dramatic blast of energy right in front of the Firebird’s flight path.

   “Hey there,” he says, projecting his voice and holding out his hands to show he’s unarmed. “Can we have a wee chat?”

[therekindling]

Timeslip

Saturday night before Father's Day--

Rachel finishes her letter to Scott and folds the paper over. It's a little longer than the one to Jean for Mother's day, but still short. It's hard to put everything into words and too easy to put in extraneous things. She did also find him a cute, silly little gift: a gold star-shaped stress squeezy with FAVE DAD on one side and YOU ROCK on the other.

She flips that over a couple of times, debating whether to look for a little gift bag, leave it on top of the letter, or maybe sneak it onto his desk for him to find the next time he's working. Unfortunately, she flips it a hair too hard and sends it toppling off the edge of her desk. She tries to catch it with both hand and telekinesis but catches her elbow on the corner of the desk and somehow misses with both. In fact, just out of her sight, it slips through a chronal disturbance and winds up here, predating her actual arrival in this timeline. (She feels this as a kind of twinge, but it coincides with banging her funnybone on the desk. She probably wouldn't have recognized it anyway.)

Rachel spends several minutes on her hands and knees on the floor, before and after pulling the desk and nearby bookshelf aside, hunting the missing star in increasing bafflement and irritation. She levitates all the furniture and checks in nooks and crannies in case it's a lot bouncier than she thought.

Finally, she sits back on her heels, telekinetically slides her furniture back where it was, and sighs. This doesn't really make sense, but she's not going to hunt all night for something that cannot reasonably have vanished but still definitely isn't there. Maybe she can pick up a replacement, even if it's late.

[therekindling]

Send "I receive ____, you receive ____" to offer a trade with my muse and see if they'll accept it or not

Fill the blanks with the items(?) for trade

[therekindling]

"Thank you," Rachel began, "though, I don't know if I'm really going to be able to sleep tonight...." It wasn't so much the coffee as the tension. Knowing the X-Men were out there, knowing it was serious enough to take them all away, leaving her back here with the home guard too much like when she was a child, when--

She could pretend, or try, and maybe should. It wasn't her responsibility to stay up and wait, but it would be her responsibility to help fight (despite lack of practice coordinating with the people here) or deal with whatever was needed when (if--when!) they returned. It would be smarter to sleep, but lightly, to prepare. Maybe even to suggest taking shifts, alternating with Madelyne, given how similar their powers were. Madelyne was here to take charge, but would likewise be better able to deal with any emergencies if she got some rest, and now Rachel had circled back to the original line of thought that had led to suggesting hot chocolate.

It would definitely be smart to sleep. She still wasn't sure she could.

Speech and train of thought derailed together when she raised her eyes and saw the tears.

Rachel left her mug hanging in midair and was over beside the chair, crouched a little awkwardly to put her arms around Madelyne, before her brain actually caught up enough to ask whether her aunt was likely to want a hug from somebody she'd just met.

"Madelyne?"

Madelyne took a seat in the leather bound arm chair and draped a soft blanket over her lap, an instinctual way to try and feel safe.

" No, I understand, I'm truly sorry for your loss "

Her own mind couldn't help but drown in all the sadness of the situation. It wasn't just her own but it was as if Rachel was pouring into her, maybe their bond was already there even if Madelyne hadn't known the young woman.

" Seems I'm always in the dark these days but least you have shined a light on some things for me, Thank you Rachel "

Madelyne wrapped herself a little tighter and adjusted in her seat before she noticed how late it had gotten, maybe Rachel was right about it being bed time.

" It's been a long night, why don't you get yourself settled, I assume they gave you a room? "

Not wanting to be alone but not knowing how to be vulnerable with someone new left the clone with an uneasy feeling. Madelyne felt like she had been locked out of the only home she ever knew. As Jean she had friends, a job, a loving partner even had another's heart but as Madelyne she had no one, not even her own son and the more time she spent here the more it's was driven into her just how far she'd fallen.

Without any time to really prepare Madelyne's eyes teared up, her throat caught tight and the sound of her own heart pumping in her ears left her unable to hear anything else. New to this feeling she was frozen in place, small tears started to fall.