lock pls

[senna_]

──────── 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐘𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

she/her;.24;.spectral (ice);.bicurious;.located: spectral headquarters;.mentions: tag;.tagging: freyja

The sound of an obnoxious buzzing noise brought Anna back into her state of consciousness. Groggily, her hand flailed around the top of her bedside table until she blindly found the source of the noise, and, turning her arm in a very awkward position, slapped the top of it until the noise shut off. Then she sighed a breath of relief and snuggled back into her covers. An alarm clock. While it was something the Coutures had back in their days, in real time, it was far from advanced like it was nowadays. It was something Anna still couldn’t quite seem to wrap her head around. Vehicles, technology, moderations to every-day life. It had almost been a month – thirty whole days – since she had awoken from her Aurora-inspired sleep, and she still hadn’t found a proper adjustment yet. Everything about everything was so abnormal. Yes, there were the usual buildings, and people, and jobs and cars and boats, but everything was so different. Updated, more or less. Even something as small as an alarm clock, something she had growing up, made her feel homesick.

She was definitely homesick, but she wasn’t exactly sure where it was she longed to be anymore. They had discovered they were not in England but in New York, which was in America, when they awoke. Growing up, Anna had always dreamed about travelling to America. While it was a wonderous thing now, the way she got there certainly was not part of the plan. Was that it, then? The major shift that cast everything off balance? Whatever the case may be, despite putting on a happy face, there was a never-ending tingle of nerves that continuously bundled up in her stomach. It seemed to escalate every time she did something that she feared would set off her powers.

Her powers. That was another story. She was completely mind boggled upon first hearing the news. That was complete fantasy, anyway, shooting ice right from your hands. And yet, it was completely real, and she was terrified. Although Anna hadn’t done anything too harmful yet (a few broken vases was about as far as she had gotten), she was still worried about what she could possibly do. She’d felt those icicles. They were dangerously prickly.

Sighing once more, the blonde finally rolled out of bed, re-preparing the sheets in one fluid motion before heading to the bathroom attached to her bedroom. She took her time in the shower, turning the water to extra warm, given the brisk bite in the air. She was silent as she changed, throwing on a plaid skirt, soft white shirt, and a cream cardigan. Comfortable, but still appropriate if she were to go out. That was another thing she was still adjusting to. The choice of attire nowadays was so different, so free. While Anna still felt comfortable siding with dresses, something she had grown up having to wear, she couldn’t help but admire the confidence the women wore when they dressed in pants. Things had changed for the better for them all. One day, she hoped she’d get enough confidence to buy a pair of pants. One day.

Leaving her hair down, praying the tips wouldn’t freeze the second she stepped out the door, Anna departed the bathroom, steps nearly silent as her slippered feet padded down the hallway. Although her icy blue gaze was focused ahead, a shadow-like figure caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Stopping rather abruptly, Anna changed directions, shuffling closer to the doorframe. She didn’t enter the room, but pushed the door open a little bit more. “Freyja?” she called softly, in case the woman was dozing off. “Frey, are you in here?”

••••

──────── 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐙

he/him;.27;.tessarke (archer);.demi;.located: tessarke headquarters;.mentions: tag;.tagging: amelia

Morgen was exhausted. Despite having done so little within the past few days, his body felt like it was carrying the weight of a human-sized bag of bricks, and every inch felt bruised, even though he didn’t have more than a small scratch on him. Looking in the mirror in front of him, staring back at his reflection, he could see that the dark circles under his eyes were prominent, a true visual of the fatigue he was battling internally. Leaning forward, hunching over slightly, his fingers tightly gripped the edge of the countertop, and he let his head loll forward. Closing his sea-green eyes, Morgen’s head gently swayed side-to-side, as if he was slowly shaking his head, even though nothing had been said, nor had anything hit his thought process in that moment. For whatever reason, he felt guilty. Regret and guilt were the two big feelings that had stuck with him since his awakening.

It was strange, really. Change wasn’t ever something that played a big role in his life, or, at least, it never really bothered him, but he couldn’t help but realize how off he had been feeling. After hearing about this nonsense of power story (which, he hated to admit, really was a real thing), it was as if he was no longer able to trust anyone. Well, the voice in his head started, and he scoffed an emotionless laugh, that’s nothing new. Trust, something that had always failed to stick by his side. Morgen couldn’t help it. The war had decided that it was every man for himself. The death of his mother supported this. Morgen had always been alone, so why was he feeling so lonely? He knew the people he had surrounded himself with, the people that were sharing the same household. It was weird, almost, seeing them in such different clothing compared to when they were back in Germany. This certainly was not Germany, though. Boston, Massachusetts. What a place to live.

Even though there wasn’t much running through his head in that moment, Morgen still slammed his hand down against the countertop in raging frustration, seething through his teeth as pain reacted immediately, coursing up through his hand and up his arm. Grimacing, Morgen stepped away from the sink and shook out his hand, something that would very likely be bruised within the next few hours, then briskly turned and walked away. His insides felt hot now, and his hands anxiously curled in and out of fists as he marched along. Why the hell was he here? What year was it again? Twenty-something rather? I could have been dead by now, he snapped internally. I could have seen her again. It was pure punishment, he was sure of it. Why else would he have been given a longer period of time away from his loved ones? Nowadays, there was only one person he genuinely liked being around still nearby. And even at that, Morgen still had days where he managed to convince himself that he was nothing more than a total nuisance to be around. Nonetheless, he still found himself heading in the direction of the familiar blonde, desperate to take his mind away from the newly-found disheartenment within him.

“Amelia,” he called out once he was close enough, his tone somewhat raspy, husky, as if he had been shouting for hours prior. He winced slightly at the sharp undertone, digging his nails into the palms of his hands as he stopped in front of her. It was evident she was having an uneasy day, too, given the disoriented look on her face. “You okay?”

[poppyxoxo]

𝒜𝓂𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒶

~she/her ~23 years old ~Earth manipulation ~Tessarke ~mentions: ~tags: Morgen ~location: Tessarke Headquarters

Amelia felt like these past few days had slipped in and out of her grasp quicker than she would have liked despite hating the feeling of time dragging on. Sleep was unknown to her too much to begin to even worry about the slight bags that had begun to grow beneath her eyes. Luckily, she had just learnt how to sufficiently cover them but this morning it had completely slipped her mind. At least she tried to put together her clothes and hair as neatly as possible. Amelia had managed to snag a spare minute to herself where she stood blankly staring into space for however long. That's all she felt like doing, besides keeping in contact with anyone familiar within the compound. At least that way the sense of familiarity kept her sane.

The space within the head quarters that Amelia occupied were oddly quiet as if Amelia's presence was enough to decrease the mood which made the young girl feel even worse. "This is so stupid. Get yourself together. Will anyone still want you around if you are acting so dramatically?" Amelia muttered to herself in slight irritation. Just as she was straightening herself out, a voice reached her ears with a slight rasp to it but only just recognizable. For a moment, Amelia was confused who had called out to her and the idea of whipping around and bolting sounded appealing for a second but then a jolt of recognition hit her. Her dark hazel eyes brightened as one of her most trusted friends stepped more clearly in to view. "Morgen?" the name left her lips as a unintended whisper.

The air seemed to have left her lungs for a moment as a smile broke out onto olive skin. Morgen seemed to be in better shape than Amelia however she was not quite gullible enough to think that he hasn't gone through hell and back for a while. Her heart hurt to think that such a close friend could be suffering like that. The young women gladly approached. “How are you Morgen? Are you ok?” Amelia asked, worry creeping into her voice. He really did seem ok but she had no clue what was happening in his mind.

[Quetzaloe]

𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰-𝓗𝔀𝓪𝓷
He/Him -- Spectral HQ, NYC -- Mentions: Anaya, Freyja -- Tags: Open

Yeong-Hwan hummed and curled his arms tighter around his legs as he stared out the window. Outside people swarmed and moved, like busy ants. Somewhere outside, he could hear Anaya calling for Freyja.

So he was no longer the only one awake, then.

Truthfully, he hadn't been able to sleep. Proper sleep had been hard to come by since... waking up. He'd had an easier time coming back to himself than the others. No doubt due to his new abilities. Physically he was fine. That was probably as good as it got though.

Waking up was like being transported to a whole new world. There was so much now that was different. So many things that he didn't know. Technology had advanced so far, but he hadn't been able to advance with it. Everything made him nervous. Like he was being watched, being seen.

With a sigh, he grabbed the empty mug resting on small table next to his armchair, resolving to finally venture out into the kitchen to boil some water and make an herbal tea.

𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪
She/Her -- Tessark HQ, Boston -- Mentions: Morgen, Amelia -- Tags: Open

Regina hummed as she stretched her arms out, feeling the satisfying pops in her shoulders and spine. There was rain pattering against the building, and a cool draft wrapped around her ankles as she went down the dim hallways.

Waking up so far into what should have been her future was... dissapointing. The world was so different in so many ways. But she had quickly found some comforts.

The internet, as it turned out, was a near miracle. Any time she wanted, she could have someone pull up pictures of home and hold them in her hands! Home had changed with the times, old buildings on the streets she had once roamed and flooded and crumbled, new buildings had risen, the people had changed, but she could still tell it was home. There was Carnival now, a popular sight for pictures. There was a longing in her bones to go.

The clothing of the times was nice too. She didn't have to feel restricted by skirts or uncomfortable fabrics. Regina was happy to roam the hallways in her soft olive pants, mustard yellow sweater, and matching yellow fuzzy socks.

Fuzzy socks, she had decided, were easily the best thing to happen to clothing.

Somewhere nearby she could hear Amelia and Morgen. Likely somewhere in another hallway in this miserable maze.

She herself wasn't doing much of anything other than wandering. Although she was considering going out into the courtyard to sit for a while. One of her first requests upon coming back to her senses was for a sketchbook and pencils, which were now tucked securely under her arms. The internet was wonderful for helping her with costuming sketches as well, although most people now seemed to use the computers themselves for sketching. Regina supposed she was technically too old to understand that.

[kellybelly1403]

𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘: November 5th, 2052
𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘: 8am (New York)
𝗧𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘: early morning NY = 5°C ➜ mid-afternoon NY = 14°C
𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥: cloudy at the moment with a bit of sun


she/her | 24 years | spectral (SS) | ace/bi | LOCATION: spectral headquarters MENTIONS: tags TAGS: Anaya

The air around her was brisk, as the brunette stood looking out the foggy window. The outside looked grey, with clouds covering the sky, not letting way for the sun to shine, yet there were people still marching around the streets. It was strange. It seemed no matter the time of day or what the weather held, the locals always had somewhere to be. For a month now, Freyja had been observing them, the same time every morning. And yet, the same amount of people crowded the streets. Depending on the weather, some wore longer, thicker clothing, while other times they would wear little to no clothing. The girl never understood it. Why would one purposely wear tight clothing that shows so much skin? Those clothes can’t possibly keep them warm, can they? The only good outcome with the time being so much more in the future is that women can wear pants now. They are not forced to wear dresses, and act proper, although most do. The brunette had seen so many girls wear long pants with short hair, something that only men had. Something that the brunette had to lie about for so many years. She was no longer forced to call her a man(although it never bothered her), Freyja could wear the clothes she was comfortable in and still be herself.

The girl brushed her fingers through her wavy long hair, something she hadn’t had since she was sixteen. It felt unnatural, fake, someone else's. Yet, she felt beautiful, as if the God’s themself blessed her with beautiful flowing locks again. She never hated having short hair, in fact, she loved it. It was so much easier to maintain and people never questioned her ability to work. She felt seen, without standing out.

Freyja has never been one for attention, nor will she ever. She never understood it. Why would one person want the world to see them? Why would that one person want so many responsibilities put onto their shoulders? If they were once praised for all the good they gave the world, and then hated by everyone for one small slip up, how would they cope? How would they live amongst the world, knowing they are hated by all? How? Despite being in a group of people who have saved thousands, she has never been one for the spotlight. She would rather the world not know it was her than be praised. Although those responsibilities on her shoulders are still there, the crowd doesn’t follow her. She can do what she wants without needing that consent praise. Why? Because she knows what she’s doing is right, even without having anyone tell her. And some other reasons the girl has yet to believe.

The creek of the doorway, caused her attention to leave the window seal, snapping her out of her thoughts. An innocent voice then broke the silence. Without moving her position, the girl answered. “Ja.” She said simply, meaning yes in the mother tongue. “You can come in room. No need to be staying there. You catch cold.” She said, her thick accent showing, as she always tried her best to speak in their language.

•••••••

𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘: November 5th, 2052
𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘: 8am (Boston)
𝗧𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘: early morning = 4°C ➜ mid-afternoon = 11°C
𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥: drizzling, misty, cold


he/him | 26 years | tessarke (FIRE) | hetero | LOCATION: tessarke headquarters MENTIONS: tags TAGS: Regina

Casey was still submerged in his bed. The three layers of blankets, sheet, fuzzy blanket, and comforter, created a comfortable warm, relaxing temperature for his body. Although he’s had this bed for a month now, he always has the same reaction in the morning. He loved it. Almost every night he slept well, besides the few odd times, but he always felt safe.

After a few minutes of convincing himself to get out of his warm bubble of air, he quickly pulled the covers off like a bandaid, knowing the air wouldn’t hold the same temperature that his bed did. And he was right, it was colder this morning, sending small shivers down his back, although that was his fault for not wearing a shirt to bed, though he did not regret it. Growing up it was improper to not be fully clothed, but now it’s weird if guys do wear a shift to bed. So many rules and just the world itself has changed so much from the time before they went into a coma. Although they missed almost 100 years of their lives, he didn’t seem to mind. The best part about the time gap he thought was their powers. He never imagined himself, and even people in general would have abilities. Though Casey still hasn’t mastered it, he still loves the idea. Controlling fire! How cool is that?

The brunette made his way into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting dressed into jeans and a grey shirt with red flannel, or as he would call it “lazy day”. Despite it still being early, he was already wide awake so there was no harm in getting dressed for the day and if he happened to go out he could always change into something more ‘suitable’. He combed out his locks and began styling it with hair gel, making it look more presentable than his bed head. Ever since he was a boy he loved styling his hair, and now with this different product it is easier to use, and it looks better as well.

Before heading out into the hall, he checked himself out in the mirror, showing off his pearly whites. “I look good,” he said confidently, as he left. He walked around aimlessly, whistling a tune from his time in the military until he found a familiar face. “Regina!” he called out, quickening his pace, “Wait up!!”

[poppyxoxo]

𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓷

-he/him -24 years old -Knife thrower -Spectral -mentions: x -tags: Yeong-Hwan -location: Spectral headquarters

Declan hadn't had his morning coffee when he usually did, so automatically he wasn't off to a coordinated start. It was either that or nothing in his life had gone the way he wanted it to for a while. He felt rather out of sorts and as he made his way towards the kitchen fully dressed, a secret part of him hoped no one would be there. A part of him didn't want to freak others out if what he said made little to no sense. As he walked closer to the kitchen, he could hear distant clattering which declared someone else was inside. "You can do this" he attempted to hype himself up before pushing open the door.

A small pang of recognition brought him back to reality. What was this guys name again? It was on the tip of his tongue. "Good morning" he spoke first, wanting to break any awkward silence right off the bat.

[senna_]

──────── 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐘𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

she/her;.24;.spectral (ice);.bicurious;.located: spectral headquarters;.mentions: tag;.tagging: frejya

Anna had no problem waiting for Freyja to acknowledge her. It didn't seem to take her friend too long to realize that Anna had indeed approached her room, but the silent second or two in between voices gave Anna the impression that the woman was lingering in her mind before she verbally interrupted. It wasn't until after Frey spoke that the platinum blonde opened the door enough to catch sight of the brunette. While her head was rotated towards the doorway, where Anna had temporarily placed herself, the position of her body indicated she had been watching out the large window behind her. It hadn't taken Anna too long to realize that a lot of them seemed to do that. Observing into the open seemed to give them peace, or, at least, it gave them a chance to reflect on past ─ and maybe present and future ─ events. For Anna, she liked to bake. Sitting alone in her thoughts was troublesome, given her repetition when it came to overthinking things, and Anna knew better than to settle comfortably in her mind. Freyja was different. She was quiet, constantly. While Anna vaguely knew she had problems throughout her childhood, there were surely a lot of significant details left out. The war changed people, though, and trauma prior to that made things even more excruciating. Anna had learned early on that it was best not to ask questions, despite her undying curiosity.

Her pale lips curved into a quick smile at Freyja's familiar accent. When Anna first started working alongside Spectral (the main company didn't like when they said "worked for"), she had encountered many different accents, for many soldiers from all across Europe had come into contact with the company. However, the Norwegian accent wasn't as familiar to her. Anna herself was French, born and raised, but was learning English since the day she spoke her first word, so her English was much more fluent than Frey's was. In honesty, Anna liked Freyja's broken English. It was charming, innocent, although she'd never say that aloud; the brunette was tough, tough as nails, and while Anna was pretty sure a small comment like that wouldn't upset her, it was hard to tell. Freyja was unpredictable. Ironically enough, it was often Anna that had to grab hold of her and reel her back in.

"It's probably not much better there," she commented a moment later, tilting her head ever-so-slightly as her icy blue eyes shifted towards the large window. "I'm sure the glass is cold." She hesitated for a second, as if awaiting yet another invitation, then stepped through the doorway, immediately heading towards the small woven basket in the corner of the room. Yanking out the first blanket she could set her hands on, Anna headed over to Freyja, fluffing out the blanket before gently draping it over the brunette's shoulders. "There, that should do." She paused yet again, then took a seat on the floor, gaze drifting out to catch a good glimpse of the unfriendly grey clouds in the distance. "Was it like this in Norway a lot? Cold and dreary?"

••••

──────── 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐙

he/him;.27;.tessarke (archer);.demi;.located: tessarke headquarters;.mentions: casey, tag;.tagging: amelia

There was no doubting the fact that Amelia was certainly not quite there; although physically together, the ghostly paleness in her facial features gave Morgen the impression something was bothering her. What wasn't there to be a pesk, though? Everyone was still adjusting. Even someone with the biggest bit of confidence was still struggling; the technology, although behind his imagination, was a pain to use, and things as simple as cutlery and the setting of a room was different. Morgen was neither fond nor angered by change, but this was something different. And although it had almost been a month since their reawakening, it certainly didn't make anything any easier.

He didn't even want to get into the topic of their powers.

His suspicions on his friend were nearly completely confirmed as she seemingly ignored his question regarding her health, though he suspected she merely did not hear it. At her question, Morgen briefly paused, then brought up his hand, curling his fingers in towards his palm to show off the fresh bruise that had begun to take over the usual pale shade of his skin. It reminded him an awful lot like the bruise on the dull red apple he had accidentally knocked off of the counter the other day, with disregard to the soft skin of the fruit. A somewhat sheepish smile, more fatigued than anything else, played at his pale lips. "At least it was not the mirror this time," he shrugged, crinkling his nose slightly as the "was" was manipulated by his thick accent, turning it into an unattractive "vuz." Although proud of his English, Morgen certainly was no pro. "Milly?" he voiced a moment later, attempting to lure her attention back in. "Bad sleep? You look like those soldiers that just returned from war."

He wasn't about to push. While that was very typical of Morgen, he knew better when it came to people he actually liked. Just as he was about to ask more, the creaking of a nearby door caught his attention, and he straightened immediately: soldier stance. His sea-green eyes shot to his left, and his lips formed a fine line as he caught sight of whom it was that had exited the room. Casey. It was safe to say the other guy did not see him nor Amelia, but the grim look on Morgen's face was enough to make it seem like they had just had an entire conversation. Morgen's eyes did not leave his back until he was fully out of sight. He rolled his shoulders back once Casey was gone and loosened his posture, cringing a bit at how easily his soldier came out. Even though the war had long passed, it was difficult to get rid of the muscle memory regarding those times. He turned back towards Amelia, eyes flickering over her face. Eventually, he decided not to ask anything more. She'd say whatever she was feeling comfortable with.

[poppyxoxo]

𝒜𝓂𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒶

~she/her ~23 years old ~Earth manipulation ~Tessarke ~mentions: Casey ~tags: Morgen ~location: Tessarke Headquarters

Amelia once more was looking over her close friend, trying to pinpoint any spot on him that might indicate injury. He seemed fine though and daresay, even well put together. She couldn’t help but wander if his sleep had also been plagued by awful nightmares of one thing to the next. She hated even daring to think about it. She moved closer to Morgen, her eyes locating the site of a slowly developing bruise. It looked sore, and she couldn’t help but cringe inwardly. As Amelia met Morgen’s eyes again, due to the close proximity she could see the tired rings around and under his eyes.

“The mirror would have done a lot more damage than that so I’m glad you’ve still got your hand intact” Amelia commented with a tired but childish grin. Before she could question his lack of sleep, it seemed as though he had read her mind. “Ha ha, very funny… I don’t quite know. I haven’t been able to sleep very well because I’m worried it might happen all over again. It seems like I don’t get much more reassurance other than when I’m awake and around people I know” Amelia explained herself, caving slightly. There was no use in hiding things from her best friend. “What about you? You seem in the middle of the wrong and right side of put together” Amelia replied with cheeky innocence.

Amelia turned slightly to look over her shoulder just in time to watch as Casey disappeared around a corner, and she stiffened. She knew Morgen had noticed, purely just by looking at the stony expression that crossed his face. She had always wondered how the two had gotten along but she knew that it was a sore spot and felt that prying would be inappropriate. A part of her felt guilty for being able to get along with the both of them because she didn’t want to provoke either. She was more worried about them rather than getting in the middle of anything.