Young Writers Society

Tempest Briar blinked heavily. He was very… very… tired? Was that the word? No. More like… heavy. Like he was made of bricks. So many bricks. All of the bricks.

She giggled at the thought. Who would make an alis with bricks? They wouldn’t be able to fly!

Pel became even more alarmed at the giggle. He scrabbled at the door, accidentally trying to push it open, before realizing it was pull. The experimenter just watched quietly, jotting something down on a notepad.

Finally, the door opened and Pel rushed into the room. If something happened-- well, he'd blame himself forever, for not taking the punishment, for not refusing to pull the lever, for not being good enough to stop them both from getting into this situation in the first place. What was he thinking, wanting to get into Lux Academy when he couldn't even survive this place?

"Come on, Tempest Briar. We'll-- we'll stop now. Are you well enough to walk?" Pel dropped to his knees next to the chair.

Tempest Briar looked up at Pel, her vision warping slightly. “Going to… going to… be right back.” Her head lulled forward again.

Then he started to convulse, violently. His limbs rigid as he jerked back and forth.

Pel froze. Then he screamed, “Help! Someone, help!” Frantically, he scrabbled to try to pull off the wires that Tempest Briar hadn’t already jerked loose. No, no, no, no…

Tempest Briar didn’t give a sign of even hearing him. She just kept convulsing in the chair. An alarm started to go off as assistants started to flood the room. One of them rushed to Pel. “Why didn’t either of say this subject was epileptic?”

“Epileptic?” Pel’s eyes widened. “I- I didn’t know!” He watched as the assistants released Tempest Briar from the chair. If he’d only told him— Pel would’ve— What, volunteered to be shocked instead? You know you would’ve been too scared, a nasty voice in his head whispered. Pel gritted his teeth. The pain still would’ve been better than watching Tempest Briar convulse like that.

All at once Tempest Briar went completely still, his head still lulled forward. It was almost like she had fallen asleep. She let out a deep sigh and crumpled on to the floor.

A couple of attendants picked up Tempest Briar's body and started carrying him to the door. Pel hurried after them, inwardly promising that he'd make it up to Tempest Briar if-- when! it had to be when-- she woke up. And if they ever went to this awful experimentation place again, he'd be the one taking the punishment.

Cyra

Cyra felt so… ill and it was pissing him off. She rested on her elbows before collapsing with a growl. “I will kill all of you.”

Sage

"I think you'll find we're even better defended than we let on," a scientist responded coldly. They and their lackeys wheeled the table Cyra was on down a long, white hallway.

Sage pouted up at the scientist holding her arm. "Please, pretty please with a washer on top, can't I see one of your hoverboards?" The scientist just huffed in irritation and dragged her along. Giving up on the hoverboards, Sage turned her attention to the doorways set into the walls. "Mr. Eart Barthen. Researcher of artificial atmospheres and generated weather" read a clean bronze plaque.

“That’s what they all fucking say.” Cyra squeezed their eyes shut, trying to will the sick, heavy feeling away. “See if I care any.”

Cyra swallowed thickly. Xe was so angry. They felt so violated. And fae knew, oh fae knew, Malvis would be just as pissed. She would be ready to kill all of these people right alongside her.

Sage glanced at the four-armed person-- subterra, she remembered-- and nearly stopped in her tracks at the expression on their face. Sage was much better at reading instruction manuals than faces, but she was pretty sure she saw agony and rage and other, subtler emotions, all mixed up. But before she could do anything, the scientist dragged her into a wider space, pristine white as expected. There were tables full of fascinating pieces of equipment, along with sinks and cupboards along the sides. Even more scientists were here, and they swarmed the duo when they entered.

Cyra growled. “What the fuck are you doing? What’s your business? All that bullshit.”

They looked around, trying to make sense of anything that was around them.

Sage immediately strained towards the nearest table, aiming to examine a curious instrument with glass lenses and twisted bits of metal. What could it possibly be used for? Could it be some kind of microscope? But then why would there be a piece of rose quartz embedded in it? Or perhaps it was only for decoration, although that seemed unlikely. Sage forgot about the throbbing in her arm from the scientist's firm grip and lost herself in a rabbit hole of possibilities.

The scientist holding Sage dragged her to a chair and shoved her into it. “Stay still or we’ll chain you down.”

Cyra looked at the scientist that was quickly approaching them. “Let me go now, or I swear-“