07-16-2018, 09:39 PM
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i never had nobody touch me like i'm glass
ooc trigger warning for very brief suicide mention. Other than that, i think it’s safe! Important to note: this is a human au and this is not a panic attack. Just ti being a bitch ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Hazel didn’t want to sleep.
Which wasn’t uncommon these days, to be honest. The waking up in the middle of the night, the cold dread sliding down her back at the thought of being left alone in her room all night with nothing but her own mind to twist her thoughts. The shapes that haunted her silent room at three a.m, the misery that came with knowing another night had passed with little or no sleep.
There was the one moment of peace, brought on by Titanium’s little stunt when Bastille’s souls rolled, where Hazel had found peace. Where she had found a little slice of solace and sunlight. She felt warmth in her bones and energy in her veins for a day — was finally able to open her eyes all the way and fill her lungs entirely with each breath. No longer had she been walking on egg shells, fighting to keep her brain focused.
Since then, her foothold had begun to slip.
Days seemed to get longer. Her temper seemed to shorten. Jealousy was frequent and burned hot in her veins. Frustration laced every thought, her brain a constant wonder of people’s actual care. Didn’t they notice how tired she was? How she’d stop functioning after a couple days, holing herself away to ride out Titanium’s ranting and Bastille’s withdrawal? Or was she that invisible?
Not that she’d expected much else. There were so many people in the Ascendants — so many minds and bodies to care for and maintain. So many internal struggles that couldn’t be bothered to stop and pay attention to Hazel’s insomnia. That, she knew. It was why she tried to stay out of their way, only intervening and participating when absolutely necessary. She didn’t have the headspace or energy for much else, anyway. But it was always more than that — always the need to please, always the want to keep her name in good standards. To not fall into the place she had with Mother. It was why she had taken to her room, trying for a nap and hoping that sleeping during the day might make it easier.
She was wrong.
Falling asleep wasn’t hard, not when she was that exhausted. What was hard was the image that popped into her mind’s eye: a tree line, dusky and hazy to the eye; a perfect circle that surrounded a flat stretch of grass. Everything was awash in beige, muted with shadows and fog. It was quiet and serene, but eerily calm. No wind, no insect noises. It was silent. Which was funny, considering how Hazel could rarely catch a moment of silence these days.
Hazel herself was at the center of the clearing, still in shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling mechanical and trying to calm her slamming heartbeat. She was never this aware, this attuned during her dreams. Every move still felt like an echo and every sound still hollowed and bounced, but she was functioning. It was as if she wasn’t dreaming at all.
A whisper of noise had her pivoting on her heel, the grass tickling at her bare feet. She peered into the gloom and fog, heart racing, fearing the worst. But there was nothing; no sign of movement, or life —
Again, the noise brushed, just beyond her ear. Hazel flinched, a strangled shriek tearing out of her throat. It sounded like hair, fleeting across the shell of her ear. She couldn’t feel it, though. Couldn’t see it. But it was there, and there was something about it. Something that set her teeth on edge.
Hazel swallowed. She just wanted one minute of peaceful sleep, but she couldn’t even get that. She couldn’t have a happy childhood, couldn’t have a happy life; couldn’t get away from her past, couldn’t be near her best friend without fearing his next relapse or the idea of him abandoning her and now she couldn’t even sleep.
“Hazel.”
Hazel froze. Just...stopped dead, didn’t move a muscle while her veins turned to ice. While the voice drove fear deep into her spine, her mind, her soul. She didn’t want to turn around; she knew who it was — knew what she wanted, knew it because she heard her voice every single day —
“Turn, Princess.” Titanium leered, icy fingers latching onto Hazel’s shoulder as she leaned in close to her ear. “Turn around and show me those pretty golden eyes that glow.” Her voice, so soft, so delicate, dripped like searing candle wax, burning Hazel. A finger brushed down the line of her spine, slow and intent. Hazel bit back a scream. “It’s so funny how you have a spine,” Titanium whispered. “You certainly don’t show it.”
And Deus this was the worst kind of torture. So close to what Mother was like at home: that quiet danger that threatened so much, hid so much. Though Titanium had a particular twist of sadism lacing her voice, like she knew how uncomfortable Hazel was. As if she were taking stock of Hazel’s clenched fists and taut shoulders, the way she reeked of terror and submissiveness — assessing her to find a way to make it worse.
Hazel wanted to cry. She didn’t need this, not now; she just wanted some sleep, some peace —
“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques...”
Hazel felt Titanium’s hands on her freeze, nails digging in hard. Out of frustration, it seemed; Hazel didn’t care. All she could concentrate on was the soft blue light at the edge of her vision; the light that pierced the gloom. The light that reminded her of Bastille, if she was being honest. French words floated, soft and airy on the dead air. Delicacy laced the clearing. Titanium growled under her breath.
“Damn projecting onto dreams now, huh?” The wicked soul snarled. Hazel hardly heard her — she was desperately latching on to the warmth and comfort the gentle French radiated, wanting so badly to follow the song.
“Dormez-vous, dormez-vous?”
Deus, it engulfed Hazel in the warmth and comfort she knew of only during the later moments of her panic attack: wrapped up in Bastille’s arms, that pale blue glowing in the edges of her vision. When Hazel leaned, trying to twist to see the woman who was singing — the woman who was always singing, always just in the corner of her dreams, just out of reach — Titanium snarled, clamping her hand down hard on the back of Hazel’s neck and shoving her towards the ground. Hazel fell to her knees, crying out with the shock.
“Can’t catch a moment alone, can we?” She hissed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll see you in the waking world. Night night, Princess.” Titanium shoved again, and the second Hazel’s nose hit the dirt, everything dissolved.
The girl woke with a cry, flinging herself forwards, fingers flying to her nose. In tact. Hazel buried her head in her hands, chest heaving, skin soaked in sweat. Fuck, she hated Titanium. She hated Titaniumstars with every fiber of her fucking being.
“That’s right, Hazel. How much do you hate me? How much do you hate that you can’t get rid of me, no matter what you do? Tell me about how hard I make your life,” Ti’s voice, silky and deadly, was stronger than before. Strong and loud enough so that Hazel couldn’t block it out.
But she could run.
Hazel tossed off her blankets, practically throwing herself off the bed. She didn’t stop when her feet hit cold cement; didn’t stop to grab shoes or explain anything to people nearby as she barreled down the hallway, up the stairs, and out the observatory into the sunset. Didn’t stop to think what Bastille might be feeling, what kind of panic and terror might be filtering through their bond. No, she kept running. Just kept running, feet pounding, lungs gasping, hair flying.
“Keep going,” Titanium outright cackled. “I’m sure you’ll outrun your own mind someday soon. I’m sure your feet will take you right off to Neverland if you had the chance, that you’d keep going until you killed yourself because that’s all you know, isn’t it, Hazel?” Hazel didn’t answer.
“Tell me, Hazel Elise Caelum, how terrible is your life? How awful is it to wake up every morning with a roof over your head and the promise of food in the kitchen?” Titanium cooed.
Hazel didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response.
“Tell me, how does it feel to walk out of the door and know people will talk and smile at you?” Hazel grit her teeth, knowing full well that Titanium was baiting her now. But that didn’t halt the flow of molten heat from flooding her veins, the slow simmer of anger growing with the adrenaline that pumped through her body with every pound of her feet.
“Tell me, Hazel, what is it like to think you have the whole world at your fingertips? To think that you can run from all your problems, your feelings?” Titanium bore down in her mind, volume increasing even further. “Tell me what it’s like to be such a coward that you can’t even stay in one place! Tell me what it’s like to be cherished and loved and to still be fucking selfish and cry like you have nothing, because the angel on your shoulder won’t shut up. Tell me why you’re taking on the big bad world when you can’t even let someone touch you!”
Suddenly, Hazel tripped. Over a rock, a root, her own two feet, whatever the fuck it was. She landed hard on her knees and hands, the momentum shocking her joints and bones, jolting with the pain. She yelped, hurt stuttering and halting everything for one half a second.
When she looked up, the clearing from her nightmares had replaced the far southern border of the Ascendant’s territory. In front of her, a skinny girl with hair the color of beach sand had her hands in fists, nails digging into her palms. She looked to be around Hazel’s age — seventeen, maybe eighteen. Hazel had never seen brown eyes look so cold, so dead and lifeless.
Hazel threw herself back on her heels as the girl advanced, speaking with Titanium’s voice. It wasn’t until she was almost right on top of Hazel that she noticed the hearing aid.
“You don’t know about pain, Hazel Caelum. You don’t know suffering. You don’t know what it’s like to be ignored all your life for something that wasn’t your fault. You don’t know what real hardship is because you’re self-absorbed and only care about what other people think of you!” She was yelling, and Hazel was already on the verge of tears.
She wanted to cry out, to yell back, say that she knew exactly what it was like to experience pain and suffering. But she didn’t.
“Nobody cared that I was deaf. Nobody cared that I didn’t know what my own voice sounded like, or that I’d never hear a bird sing or a wolf howl. Nobody cared when I watched my own father commit suicide when I was ten years old, or when my siblings disappeared, one by one. No one cared when I was made a medic and forced to see things no twelve year old should ever see. My single mother had duties and loyalties to the clan, to the people who were actually worth something because they had fucking functioning ears!” Titanium drove a foot hard into Hazel’s side, and the girl doubled over as the wind was knocked out of her, a strangled gasp tearing out of her throat. “You know what makes you so weak, Hazel? So cowardly? You’re dramatic. You make such a big deal out of every fucking thing and overanalyze every person you come across, thinking they might be your mother and they’ll get violent and swing at you! That’s what Mother couldn’t stand. That’s why she locked you in your room for days. You’re what drove her to drink, you fucking nuisance. If you would just get the fuck up and fight, you wouldn’t be so goddamn pathetic!”
Another kick. Hazel curled forward, clutching her stomach, gasping for breath. Anger was building, mounting, climbing — burning. It was smoldering, liquid-hot in her fingertips because Titanium didn’t fucking get it. Hazel had seen death. She’d seen pain, she’d seen fire and she’d seen rain. She’d seen too much, all of it seared into her brain like a brand. She’d learned from each of them, what not to do so it wouldn’t happen again. And that was why she didn’t fight back. Why she didn’t provoke people. Until someone proved themselves to Hazel as a good person — a genuinely good person — she would not give them her trust.
Hazel pushed out a harsh breath, but Titanium wasn’t finished. “They tip-toed around me like I was helpless. They danced around me, not doing a single goddamn thing to try and help me enjoy life. They didn’t do anything, you know that? All I ever did was help and heal them when they fell and broke a bone, and you know what I got for it? Jack shit. They thought I was breakable, that I was a piece of glass, that I was a burden!” Ti shouted. “What are you, Hazel? Are warrior? A healer? No, you’re a coward, is what you are.”
“I’m not,” Hazel muttered, tasting dirt on her tongue.
“Sorry, what was that?” Titanium sneered. “I didn’t quite catch what you said over the volume of how utterly pathetic you’re being. You don’t even know what kind of fucking cosmic dust you’re made of, and yet, you grovel in the dirt. You would bow at the feet of a prisoner if you thought they might hurt you. What are you, Hazel Elise Caelum? Are you a made of glass? Will you break if someone lays a finger on you? Or are you just weak? Are you just a coward, who can’t stand up for shit because there’s no backbone in that tiny little body of — “
“I’m not,” Hazel cried, louder, tears landing hard and fast on the dirt below.
“You’re not what?”
“I’m not a coward!” Hazel finally fucking screamed, slamming her fists against the ground.
And it all shattered.
The scene dissolved; Titanium disappeared. The ground rumbled, rolled — a deep, guttural noise that came from miles underneath the earth. Suddenly, with a great rip, solid rock split, splintering like fragile ice under the force of her hands. Hazel didn’t notice, though. She was too busy pulling herself up to sit, trying to dry the flowing tears because Titaniumstars was right. She was a coward, and weak and incapable and unable to live because it was in her blood.
Guess she was destined for ruin, no matter how far she ran.
tldr; it’s around sunset and Titaniumstars (one of her souls, aka the voice in her head) is being a real bitch, telling her all these nasty things and complaining about her own pathetic life. Hazel finally gets so angry she cracks, and the ground splits open. Ta-da! Earth elementals with a side of character development
)
Hazel didn’t want to sleep.
Which wasn’t uncommon these days, to be honest. The waking up in the middle of the night, the cold dread sliding down her back at the thought of being left alone in her room all night with nothing but her own mind to twist her thoughts. The shapes that haunted her silent room at three a.m, the misery that came with knowing another night had passed with little or no sleep.
There was the one moment of peace, brought on by Titanium’s little stunt when Bastille’s souls rolled, where Hazel had found peace. Where she had found a little slice of solace and sunlight. She felt warmth in her bones and energy in her veins for a day — was finally able to open her eyes all the way and fill her lungs entirely with each breath. No longer had she been walking on egg shells, fighting to keep her brain focused.
Since then, her foothold had begun to slip.
Days seemed to get longer. Her temper seemed to shorten. Jealousy was frequent and burned hot in her veins. Frustration laced every thought, her brain a constant wonder of people’s actual care. Didn’t they notice how tired she was? How she’d stop functioning after a couple days, holing herself away to ride out Titanium’s ranting and Bastille’s withdrawal? Or was she that invisible?
Not that she’d expected much else. There were so many people in the Ascendants — so many minds and bodies to care for and maintain. So many internal struggles that couldn’t be bothered to stop and pay attention to Hazel’s insomnia. That, she knew. It was why she tried to stay out of their way, only intervening and participating when absolutely necessary. She didn’t have the headspace or energy for much else, anyway. But it was always more than that — always the need to please, always the want to keep her name in good standards. To not fall into the place she had with Mother. It was why she had taken to her room, trying for a nap and hoping that sleeping during the day might make it easier.
She was wrong.
Falling asleep wasn’t hard, not when she was that exhausted. What was hard was the image that popped into her mind’s eye: a tree line, dusky and hazy to the eye; a perfect circle that surrounded a flat stretch of grass. Everything was awash in beige, muted with shadows and fog. It was quiet and serene, but eerily calm. No wind, no insect noises. It was silent. Which was funny, considering how Hazel could rarely catch a moment of silence these days.
Hazel herself was at the center of the clearing, still in shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling mechanical and trying to calm her slamming heartbeat. She was never this aware, this attuned during her dreams. Every move still felt like an echo and every sound still hollowed and bounced, but she was functioning. It was as if she wasn’t dreaming at all.
A whisper of noise had her pivoting on her heel, the grass tickling at her bare feet. She peered into the gloom and fog, heart racing, fearing the worst. But there was nothing; no sign of movement, or life —
Again, the noise brushed, just beyond her ear. Hazel flinched, a strangled shriek tearing out of her throat. It sounded like hair, fleeting across the shell of her ear. She couldn’t feel it, though. Couldn’t see it. But it was there, and there was something about it. Something that set her teeth on edge.
Hazel swallowed. She just wanted one minute of peaceful sleep, but she couldn’t even get that. She couldn’t have a happy childhood, couldn’t have a happy life; couldn’t get away from her past, couldn’t be near her best friend without fearing his next relapse or the idea of him abandoning her and now she couldn’t even sleep.
“Hazel.”
Hazel froze. Just...stopped dead, didn’t move a muscle while her veins turned to ice. While the voice drove fear deep into her spine, her mind, her soul. She didn’t want to turn around; she knew who it was — knew what she wanted, knew it because she heard her voice every single day —
“Turn, Princess.” Titanium leered, icy fingers latching onto Hazel’s shoulder as she leaned in close to her ear. “Turn around and show me those pretty golden eyes that glow.” Her voice, so soft, so delicate, dripped like searing candle wax, burning Hazel. A finger brushed down the line of her spine, slow and intent. Hazel bit back a scream. “It’s so funny how you have a spine,” Titanium whispered. “You certainly don’t show it.”
And Deus this was the worst kind of torture. So close to what Mother was like at home: that quiet danger that threatened so much, hid so much. Though Titanium had a particular twist of sadism lacing her voice, like she knew how uncomfortable Hazel was. As if she were taking stock of Hazel’s clenched fists and taut shoulders, the way she reeked of terror and submissiveness — assessing her to find a way to make it worse.
Hazel wanted to cry. She didn’t need this, not now; she just wanted some sleep, some peace —
“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques...”
Hazel felt Titanium’s hands on her freeze, nails digging in hard. Out of frustration, it seemed; Hazel didn’t care. All she could concentrate on was the soft blue light at the edge of her vision; the light that pierced the gloom. The light that reminded her of Bastille, if she was being honest. French words floated, soft and airy on the dead air. Delicacy laced the clearing. Titanium growled under her breath.
“Damn projecting onto dreams now, huh?” The wicked soul snarled. Hazel hardly heard her — she was desperately latching on to the warmth and comfort the gentle French radiated, wanting so badly to follow the song.
“Dormez-vous, dormez-vous?”
Deus, it engulfed Hazel in the warmth and comfort she knew of only during the later moments of her panic attack: wrapped up in Bastille’s arms, that pale blue glowing in the edges of her vision. When Hazel leaned, trying to twist to see the woman who was singing — the woman who was always singing, always just in the corner of her dreams, just out of reach — Titanium snarled, clamping her hand down hard on the back of Hazel’s neck and shoving her towards the ground. Hazel fell to her knees, crying out with the shock.
“Can’t catch a moment alone, can we?” She hissed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll see you in the waking world. Night night, Princess.” Titanium shoved again, and the second Hazel’s nose hit the dirt, everything dissolved.
The girl woke with a cry, flinging herself forwards, fingers flying to her nose. In tact. Hazel buried her head in her hands, chest heaving, skin soaked in sweat. Fuck, she hated Titanium. She hated Titaniumstars with every fiber of her fucking being.
“That’s right, Hazel. How much do you hate me? How much do you hate that you can’t get rid of me, no matter what you do? Tell me about how hard I make your life,” Ti’s voice, silky and deadly, was stronger than before. Strong and loud enough so that Hazel couldn’t block it out.
But she could run.
Hazel tossed off her blankets, practically throwing herself off the bed. She didn’t stop when her feet hit cold cement; didn’t stop to grab shoes or explain anything to people nearby as she barreled down the hallway, up the stairs, and out the observatory into the sunset. Didn’t stop to think what Bastille might be feeling, what kind of panic and terror might be filtering through their bond. No, she kept running. Just kept running, feet pounding, lungs gasping, hair flying.
“Keep going,” Titanium outright cackled. “I’m sure you’ll outrun your own mind someday soon. I’m sure your feet will take you right off to Neverland if you had the chance, that you’d keep going until you killed yourself because that’s all you know, isn’t it, Hazel?” Hazel didn’t answer.
“Tell me, Hazel Elise Caelum, how terrible is your life? How awful is it to wake up every morning with a roof over your head and the promise of food in the kitchen?” Titanium cooed.
Hazel didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response.
“Tell me, how does it feel to walk out of the door and know people will talk and smile at you?” Hazel grit her teeth, knowing full well that Titanium was baiting her now. But that didn’t halt the flow of molten heat from flooding her veins, the slow simmer of anger growing with the adrenaline that pumped through her body with every pound of her feet.
“Tell me, Hazel, what is it like to think you have the whole world at your fingertips? To think that you can run from all your problems, your feelings?” Titanium bore down in her mind, volume increasing even further. “Tell me what it’s like to be such a coward that you can’t even stay in one place! Tell me what it’s like to be cherished and loved and to still be fucking selfish and cry like you have nothing, because the angel on your shoulder won’t shut up. Tell me why you’re taking on the big bad world when you can’t even let someone touch you!”
Suddenly, Hazel tripped. Over a rock, a root, her own two feet, whatever the fuck it was. She landed hard on her knees and hands, the momentum shocking her joints and bones, jolting with the pain. She yelped, hurt stuttering and halting everything for one half a second.
When she looked up, the clearing from her nightmares had replaced the far southern border of the Ascendant’s territory. In front of her, a skinny girl with hair the color of beach sand had her hands in fists, nails digging into her palms. She looked to be around Hazel’s age — seventeen, maybe eighteen. Hazel had never seen brown eyes look so cold, so dead and lifeless.
Hazel threw herself back on her heels as the girl advanced, speaking with Titanium’s voice. It wasn’t until she was almost right on top of Hazel that she noticed the hearing aid.
“You don’t know about pain, Hazel Caelum. You don’t know suffering. You don’t know what it’s like to be ignored all your life for something that wasn’t your fault. You don’t know what real hardship is because you’re self-absorbed and only care about what other people think of you!” She was yelling, and Hazel was already on the verge of tears.
She wanted to cry out, to yell back, say that she knew exactly what it was like to experience pain and suffering. But she didn’t.
“Nobody cared that I was deaf. Nobody cared that I didn’t know what my own voice sounded like, or that I’d never hear a bird sing or a wolf howl. Nobody cared when I watched my own father commit suicide when I was ten years old, or when my siblings disappeared, one by one. No one cared when I was made a medic and forced to see things no twelve year old should ever see. My single mother had duties and loyalties to the clan, to the people who were actually worth something because they had fucking functioning ears!” Titanium drove a foot hard into Hazel’s side, and the girl doubled over as the wind was knocked out of her, a strangled gasp tearing out of her throat. “You know what makes you so weak, Hazel? So cowardly? You’re dramatic. You make such a big deal out of every fucking thing and overanalyze every person you come across, thinking they might be your mother and they’ll get violent and swing at you! That’s what Mother couldn’t stand. That’s why she locked you in your room for days. You’re what drove her to drink, you fucking nuisance. If you would just get the fuck up and fight, you wouldn’t be so goddamn pathetic!”
Another kick. Hazel curled forward, clutching her stomach, gasping for breath. Anger was building, mounting, climbing — burning. It was smoldering, liquid-hot in her fingertips because Titanium didn’t fucking get it. Hazel had seen death. She’d seen pain, she’d seen fire and she’d seen rain. She’d seen too much, all of it seared into her brain like a brand. She’d learned from each of them, what not to do so it wouldn’t happen again. And that was why she didn’t fight back. Why she didn’t provoke people. Until someone proved themselves to Hazel as a good person — a genuinely good person — she would not give them her trust.
Hazel pushed out a harsh breath, but Titanium wasn’t finished. “They tip-toed around me like I was helpless. They danced around me, not doing a single goddamn thing to try and help me enjoy life. They didn’t do anything, you know that? All I ever did was help and heal them when they fell and broke a bone, and you know what I got for it? Jack shit. They thought I was breakable, that I was a piece of glass, that I was a burden!” Ti shouted. “What are you, Hazel? Are warrior? A healer? No, you’re a coward, is what you are.”
“I’m not,” Hazel muttered, tasting dirt on her tongue.
“Sorry, what was that?” Titanium sneered. “I didn’t quite catch what you said over the volume of how utterly pathetic you’re being. You don’t even know what kind of fucking cosmic dust you’re made of, and yet, you grovel in the dirt. You would bow at the feet of a prisoner if you thought they might hurt you. What are you, Hazel Elise Caelum? Are you a made of glass? Will you break if someone lays a finger on you? Or are you just weak? Are you just a coward, who can’t stand up for shit because there’s no backbone in that tiny little body of — “
“I’m not,” Hazel cried, louder, tears landing hard and fast on the dirt below.
“You’re not what?”
“I’m not a coward!” Hazel finally fucking screamed, slamming her fists against the ground.
And it all shattered.
The scene dissolved; Titanium disappeared. The ground rumbled, rolled — a deep, guttural noise that came from miles underneath the earth. Suddenly, with a great rip, solid rock split, splintering like fragile ice under the force of her hands. Hazel didn’t notice, though. She was too busy pulling herself up to sit, trying to dry the flowing tears because Titaniumstars was right. She was a coward, and weak and incapable and unable to live because it was in her blood.
Guess she was destined for ruin, no matter how far she ran.
tldr; it’s around sunset and Titaniumstars (one of her souls, aka the voice in her head) is being a real bitch, telling her all these nasty things and complaining about her own pathetic life. Hazel finally gets so angry she cracks, and the ground splits open. Ta-da! Earth elementals with a side of character development
)HAZEL ELISE CAELUM — THE ASCENDANTS — KUIPER CORPORAL — TAGS
© MADI
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better
