Miraculous Cataclysm [INV]

CAVANAUGH, CEIRA

Blip

>>I just can't... you know? He just... it's just all about him, you know?

Wow, I wonder what that feels like... it's not like you two are cut from the same cloth or anyth-

Delete, delete, delete...

A lot of people tend to talk about themselves not because they're just trying to boast but because they feel the need to keep some form of social interaction going, and for some, they feel it relies-

Delete, delete, delete...

Come on, Eve; it's just a fucking relationship, just fucking tell him. It's not like I was just trying to fucking tell you that I-

Delete-DELETE!!

I'm so sorry to hear that, Evie. Maybe you should just put on your big girl panties and fucking say something.

Ping

>>"I'm sorry to hear that, Evelyn. It would be best to discuss this with him."

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>>thanx for listn I appreciate it! i gtg tho

Really? You vent and we're done? You interrupt my own story to top mine, and boom?! You do that all the time; like you have to one-up ever-

Delete, Delete, Delete!

Evelyn, why do you always take over conversations like this? I was trying to tell you-

Delete! DELETE! DELETE!!

Eve, waht the absolute fuck, I cant evn taalk to Meaar-

Dele-

Blip

>>girly princess girl is crying... i'll text you back, okay? wait. give me a shout after ten, k? didn't mean to just take over the convo like that =p

... .... ...

Thanks, Eve. I'll talk to you later.

Ping

>>"Sure."

And with that, the light faded from the phone with a single shift of her index finger. With her back upon the bed, legs dangled over at the knee, Ceira's arms fell to her sides, sprawled out upon her bed. She couldn't believe the bullshit that came to her mind sometimes. Experiences... paths... depression... Evelyn had been feeling down lately and the moment Ceira had mentioned she had something on her mind, Eve had changed the subject to herself. It was a trait she had always overlooked since they had been friends for so long, and while the redhead really couldn't go into details on exactly what she was going through, nor even express ... well, any of it... well, maybe it was for the best that Eve didn't question her.

Quite frankly...

Why wo-

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Foohk th's day'h...

Her line of thought couldn't even complete itself as a knock sounded on her door. She had chosen solitude and cut Meara off completely and it only fueled her own inner guilt. The one person she knew more than anyone; vice versa times twelve, it was just... it was too much. Meara had seen too much... too much of her. That was too much. Of course, while she knew solitude wasn't the answer, the the bottle of her father's own favorable Jameson most certainly was and had been throughout the weekend... or week, whatever it was. She couldn't believe the price when she had first come over, but it was always worth it; fuck import fees or whatever. No... Liquor wasn't the answer... and trying to vent off a bit to a friend via text almost had her uncharacteristically explode.

Ceira couldn't imagine being a single mother, which only pulled the guilt further into her core and weighing down each step she took, while every other was filled with deliciously imported whiskey. Evelyn may have been dramatic at times, but she always seemed to create her own... drama-zone, perhaps. And it was always one guy after the next, the same thing; things don't feel quite right, I don't know, I'm so unsure... but she was a mother now. At least she was able to put her daughter first, it seemed. Maybe getting knocked up was good for her... give her someone else to think about instead of herself, or her own drama or self-sabotaging bullshit she puts herself through constantly. It was never good to avoid a problem and Evelyn always had a way of finding trouble or drama and avoid confronting it head on, and instead, simply either ignoring the problem or blowing up Ceira's phone with 'what should I do,' or 'oh, everything's fine...' with a long-winded, over-the-top sigh to follow. Just fucking face your damn problem you stupid, immature woman and stop trying to float by them. They're still going to be there in the morning no matter how many times you sweet that shit under the rug. You can't ignore shit forever, you know.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Piss th'fahk off, ahlrehdy, whoever yeh ahre...

Kettle. Meet pot.

The fire department could be attempting to kick her door in due to a fire, yet Ceira wouldn't allow herself to vacate her protective cave. Meara had respected her privacy... after some time... God, Meara. She had seen it all... she had seen ... literally, her everything. Bare... in a spiritual and psychological sense, Meara saw it all. It was beyond any form of telepathy they could ever imagine to develop. Her most inner thoughts, the hushed whispers within the far reaches of her mind, lurking within the shadowy pool of doubt, despair, and disbelief. Meara was there... her sister was there... and witnessed it all.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

"Come on, I know you're in there... I can hear you."

Her hand grasped the handle and pulled it open slowly as a refreshing breeze of cold air hit her face, somewhat bringing her to her senses before she went too far down that road again. It was a bittersweet sight to behold; it was always the other half of what she craved, what made the liquor in her hand all the more sweet.

*Crack, crack*

Ceira twisted the ice tray with her hands, bottle placed upon the kitchen counter. The door knocked a third time just as she finished refilling her glass with fresh ice, closed the freezer and glanced toward the door. Meara had left hours ago; not many people would so eagerly be knocking on her door... shit-

"Open up... I can hear you crack'n those cubes."

Damn studio apartment set-ups. Meara's phone echoed all throughout the night... so did her typing. And so, Ceira took a deep breath... and poured the liquor into the glass with care and no further glance nor fuck given toward the knocking at the door.

... | | AL/AL-A

CAVANAUGH, MEARA

Those Who Can't

"Y-You!"

Upon making her way outside, a familiar red-colored, rather fashionable trench coat caught her eyes. The feminine and rather sumptuous figure within regarded the raven-haired Meara with a soft smile and a warm nod. The woman was tall, a good half-a-foot taller than Meara herself, with long flowing dark brownish-black hair and a matching-red fedora to go with her long coat. With a shift of her weight, Meara turned to face the woman with a returned smile and open arms, holding the door open with her leg.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Meara softly exclaimed both her excitement and worry for the woman before her, who greeted her friend with a welcoming embrace. "I really don't know how I can thank you for this..."

"Don't ever thank me for something like this," the woman hastily waved a single hand before her warm but similarly worried features. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."

"Sorry, I didn't know you were working overseas," Meara sheepishly spoke, though the taller woman was quick to respond.

"There's no reason for you to apologize," the woman waved her hand once more. Meara suddenly made a guilty and perhaps sickened expression as her thoughts progressed.

"Ugh... I can't imagine the cost..."

'Ah, the airline tickets.'

"No no," the brunette patted the shorter woman's head. "I know where your head's going and you're just going to try and apologize again. The only reason I'd ever want you to apologize is for not contacting me at all for something like this."

Something like this. Silence greeted the two as both their thoughts and their gaze turned back toward the building. As soon as Meara felt her face growing grim, she felt the gloved-hand of the tall woman beside her.

"She's... I don't hear... this is the first time I haven't been able to hear her..."

"Oh, come here, hun." Once more, Meara found herself in the embrace of the taller woman, but this time, her leg lingered from the door as she unintentionally vented her own sadness, worries and frustration of not being able to help her sister. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay. You know how stubborn your sister can be. But, you also know how stubborn I can be."

Could she? Could she really reach her, when Meara herself could not? It seemed as though the woman telepathically heard her doubts and pulled her arms tighter around the smaller woman. Again, Meara felt tears streaming down her face but her voice was mute. She couldn't let her hear her cry... she never let Ceira hear... she never let anyone hear. Ceira was always the stronger one, but this time, Meara needed to be the stronger sibling... she needed to be the support. And yet... she was useless. And it felt as though her entire insides were caving in just at the thought of how useless she was and felt.

Yes. If there was anyone else Ceira would open up to, it would be her...

AL/AL-A || HACKTIVIST
FULLBRINGER SUBSTITUTE-SHINIGAMI

CAVANAUGH, CEIRA

>>"I'll take the bourbon..."

A few drinks and moments of silences later, Ceira found herself sinking into the comforts of her futon couch, her legs and feet kicked up onto the small coffee table where two bottles of different whiskey and a third bottle, three-quarters empty, filled of bourbon rested. The redhead shifted her weight a bit as her left leg uncrossed from her right and was used to push the bottle of bourbon over to the trench-coat-wearing woman sitting on a small love-seat chair across from her. The brunette removed her fashionable hat and placed it onto the table. With the bottle placed before her, she helped herself to a glass and leaned heavily back into the hair, mimicking Ceira's current position on the couch.

>>"Your sister's worried about you."

The redhead let out a lightly offended muttered growl as she recrossed her legs at the ankle in a rather childishly rebellious fashion. Despite her actions practically bleeding out annoyance, it was rather obvious she wanted, and sure enough, needed some company. Breaking through the rebellious, closed-off persona of the mere minute-or-so-older Cavanaugh twin, however, was always a tedious task in and of itself.

>>"To be honest, I'm kind of worried too."

Ceira replied to the comment by raising the rocks glass of iced whiskey to her lips and drinking a good portion of liquor straight. Her eyes remained anywhere but upon the woman across from her as she spoke. This was all news she already knew; it didn't need to be spoken aloud. Didn't they know she just needed... just wanted some... something... hell, she didn't know what she needed or even wanted... well, she knew one thing she wanted. After another solid moment of silence, the brunette lifted her own feet from the table and leaned forward, elbows propped upon her thighs as she gazed upon the redhead.

>>"Come on, Ceira, do we have to do the whole pouty song and dance routine?" The woman asked with a tilt of her head. "I mean, aren't we passed this already? Can't we just skip to you telling me what's going on? You know you can't keep all that stuff locked in. I told you. That's why I'm here for you. You can't take all this stress and everything you're experiencing and feeling in like this."

"You've no idea what um' feeling… Ceira started to finally speak, though the tone behind the words were strongly lacking any defiant strength.

>>"That's not fair, and you know it, Ceira." The redhead cringed a bit at the tone of the older woman across from her. She did know it wasn't a fair thing to say, yet she still said it anyway. Finally, she made the mistake of meeting the woman in the eyes and the serious gaze that fell upon her shook her resilience.

"I..." Ceira started to speak, her voice shaken a bit after recalling a situation very similar to this one, though the roles reversed. "I know... sorry..."

>>"Look," the brunette hastily waved her hand. "I know what I went through can't be compared to what you're going through; just as you said it to me, I'm saying it to you. We all experience things differently. No matter how we compare them, we’re all different. Each experience we face makes us a different person than we were before. What you’re going through… whatever is eating at you inside… it will change you-it IS changing you… but only YOU have the power to determine just HOW it will change you.”

Hollow eyes finally raised from the highball glass filled with ice and liquor and traveled tiredly toward the woman. Her body was tired, everything ached, and her chest was always heavy… too heavy. It hurt to breathe… it hurt to think… feeling numb was a blessing, but it wasn’t as though she had some switch she could turn on. Some days she would feel like an empty, hollow shell; completely numb and void to her environment. Other days… it was just pain. Pain and a lot of yelling in her head. The voice of doubt, as if just waiting for the cue, hastily came up to reassure her negativity like an ice-cold blanket; painfully comforting and trapping her exactly where she was… never moving forward… just stuck.

>>"Hearing your own words come back at you sucks, I know. And they’re hard to believe… they feel hollow, empty and pointless; hell, everything probably seems pointless. I don’t want to assume here… Meara hasn’t shared anything with me, and I want to respect your space… but Ceira… you’re … you’re… you’re literally k-killing yourself."

Ceira felt a painful stab and aching pull within her chest. That’s when the brunette before her brought her face to her hands, her palms pressed against her forehead as she could no longer face the redhead. Emotions of a far too similar situation; reckless abandonment, not caring for one’s self to the point where it became hazardous to their health… they welled up and formed an aura of brief despair and Ceira could feel herself being pulled in.

"If you can’t for yourself… then… for me, please… You promised…"

...... | | AL/AL-A
Fullbringer, Substitute-Shinigami... Viza-/

CAVANAUGH, CEIRA

>>"Give me your burden... I will bare the weight with you."

Scarlet hues stared blankly up to the ceiling, lightly blinking as rays of light from the new day's greeting sun graced the presence of the entangled pair. Those red eyes shifted to her left with a soft tilt of her head as they took in the curled up body next to her; a light sheet grazed gently over their bodies and despite all the emotional exhaustion Ceira had exhausted the night before, those red eyes remained ever open throughout the night. Ceira had fallen completely apart, the walls she attempted to keep up had finally crumbled and everything she held in had been released just a few hours ago. She cried, she screamed, she vaguely remembered punching the floor... or wall... whichever it was, her knuckles were still stinging. Nevertheless, the pain meant nothing in comparison to the weight and warmth of the woman next to her. Despite everything she had confessed, the brown-haired woman lying asleep next to her still remained. The darkness inside of her... the horrific crime she had committed... the truth she couldn't reveal even to her own flesh and blood.

This woman had taken everything and still accepted her...

It wasn't until she couldn't stand the chirping birds and rustling of street and rush-hour traffic outside that the redhead began to stir from her bed. Slowly and carefully, she pulled her arm out from beneath the woman's resting head, the numb, tingling and stinging sensations hastily spreading throughout her arm and shoulder, having rested in that awkward position for several hours.

"Hnnnng-ah..." Ceira stretched her back and arms upward, out to the side, and in all sorts of directions; waking her sleeping and aching muscles while fighting off the urge to cure her headache with the hair of the dog. She let out a solid breath, then felt the heavy weight ignite once more within her chest. While it would surely take her more than a single night to change her outlook, one glance back to the woman in her bed help ever greatly in sharing the weight she felt within. It was hard to believe that just a year ago, their roles were reversed... and it was Ceira snoozing haphazardly in the bed while a shuffling brunette stumbled her way through her kitchen, looking for coffee at three in the morning.

She decided it was best to replicate the actions of the sleeping woman and ensure a pot of coffee was freshly brewed by the time she woke...

...... | | AL/AL-A
Fullbringer, Substitute-Shinigami Viza---/

"RED"

A single ray of light and heat broke through a small piece of a bent window-blind to gaze upon a mesh of tangled and curled brownish-black mane. When the light finally made its way to a bare pale cheek, a frail hand lifted to part those long black strands like the Read Sea, though no picture of a barren ocean floor appearing from the mess. Instead, a pair of tired, chestnut-reddish eyes eerily shot the death-iest of death glares toward the sun-bathed window. Her palm rested upon her forehead, handful of hair in her grasp and attempted to shield her eyes and cheek with her risen arm, but to no avail; she was already awake... and-

"Damn it, blatter."

She could already hear the shower running and the lack of a body next to her meant she'd probably have to wait a bit. After three groans, four grunts and the longest sigh in childhood-history, the tall woman rolled herself out of the bed, lifting the light sheet from her form and grabbing the closest shirt or top her hand could grab. And then came the headache; so what sat next to her on the night-stand, prepped and ready for her like the little bitch she was?

"Damn it, Ceira."

Two aspirin and a cold bottle of water; condensation running down the side of the plastic which only parched her throat further. Suddenly feeling as though she really had spent the night in the desert, the pale woman took the two pills, uncapped the water, and chugged the entire bottle in roughly five or six gulps. The woman exclaimed a rather loud breath of relief as she felt the ice-cold liquid squirm its way down her body. Already feeling twelve-times better, the woman collapsed onto her back with her arms stretched out to both sides, one still gripping the bottle as to not spill water on the bed.

Last night should have been a blur with all the alcohol she had consumed, but the emotional tidal wave that was Ceira Cavanaugh would forever be etched into her memories. The same woman who appeared as a strong, confident woman had crumbled into her arms. For hours, she held her as the woman cried out everything she possibly could. She had felt every tremor, every tremble, every heart-shredding cry of the woman she loved. Never in her life had she expected such a strong role-reversal. Never in her life did she think SHE would be the support... to even have the strength to be leaned upon... funny... she may have been the support to the frail, fragile redhead last night yet she still felt weak. To hear her cries, to be so confused yet want to do anything in her power to stop the one she held from hurting, the frustration, anguish... her chest felt as though it caved in multiple times last night.

After a few more passing thoughts, the lengthy woman finally sat up once more, crushing the plastic just a bit in order to get a bit more leverage when she attempted to underhand-toss it into the trash across the room. The bottle hit the top of the lid, but without enough weight or force, it merely skimmed across the lid, hit the wall, then the floor between the barrel and kitchen counter. Well, coffee sounded nice...

HUMAN | | ML-A