take back your misery ! [hattie/open?]

[DOLLIE.]

MY SHIP WENT DOWN
IN A SEA OF SOUND, WHEN I WOKE UP ALONE,
i had everything ,
A HANDFUL OF MOMENTS I WISHED I COULD CHANGE,
and a tongue like a nightmare that cut like a blade.

She slipped out of the sunlight like a quick glance, there one moment and gone the next. She turned briefly to glance over her shoulder to make sure no one followed her, and when she was certain no one had, she let out a thick breath. Vaux was blind in a lot of ways, misguided and full of mob mentality. It was a dangerous beast, something wild and tormented and, quite honestly, not the brightest or highest on the food chain. The humans were ridiculous sometimes, especially the common ones. They feared things they knew nothing about, which might have been logical because their lapse in knowledge revealed something far more dangerous than they could ever imagine, and they thrust out their forceful blades blindly into the air. The government of Vaux was trying to do something with those hunts, but Kennedy doubted they'd manage much with that. Most of the shifters she had the misfortune of knowing were a bit sneakier than a common hunter might suspect. It was just those elite monsters they had to watch out for, the ones that had no qualms with spending day and night on their tails. There were some real animals out there, and the shifters weren't part of that.

She pulled her dark hair behind her shoulders and crouched down in the shadow, acting like she was tying her ruined sneakers. The people of Vaux that walked by the mouth of the alley had no idea what she was, and paid her no more than a second glance at best. She imagined that in a few days when she wasn't freshly washed and covered in the grime of living outdoors that they would throw a few more glances her direction. Those nasty people and their rich baths and nonsense like that. It certainly didn't help her cause much that they kept themselves sparkling nearly, did it? She bit her lip as she feigned the lace tying further, her eyes briefly flickering upward to glance through her lashes at the street. It was sunny, warm for the springtime. That would be fleeting though, and within a few days the clouds would come back and it would start raining again. That would be a problem for her, she imagined, although she could probably just shift to get out of the worst of it. She was lucky, oh so incredibly lucky, to be a common animal. The wear and tear of the streets did exactly what it would to her shift as it would a regular stray, and if she needed a disguise, she had one. She almost pitied the poor fools who shifted into some bizarre thing, like a mongoose, or an elephant, or something. Although she had never really met anyone who shifted into either of those, it wouldn't be beyond the compass of possibility.

Well, survival of the fittest, right? A smug look graced her lips for a second as she straightened up in a quick, fluid motion and skimmed the street. Through the sunny gap in the buildings she could see the road, which was void of automobiles, and she could see the walks beside them, which were dying down in the early afternoon lull. It was a Monday, if she remembered correctly, which meant that the people were headed back to their jobs about this time. The stragglers were just citizens with too much money, too much time, or nothing else to do. Maybe all three. Kennedy waited a moment for the hush to fall over the street and the footsteps, and she jogged back into the throat of the alley, away from the thick sunlight. Between the buildings, the light was just fading, a sickly blue-ish gold that looked alien. She was used to this, though, as she spent most of her time in these parts of the city during the day. There was only so long she could spend walking around the wilderness where she'd grown up. She hated it there anyway, and she swore that unless those stupid hunters were right on her tail, she'd never stay out there more than a night. Ever.

It was awful out there, more disgusting that Vaux.

Beautiful, maybe, but that wasn't the point. She'd grown up in the filth of a refugee people who were falsely wronged, and the very air that they had made her stomach churn uncomfortably. Bitterness hit her mouth like a brick and she blinked back the angry prickle in her eyes. Her fists clenched and unclenched as she leaned against the cool brick of one of the buildings, her eyes focused on a chainlink fence that divided her half of the T shaped alley with the last branch and another open street. A little to her right was the L of the alley itself, the northward end spewing onto a main street and the eastward end a luxurious strip mall. The other end of the alley went off toward a lesser street, although she had no interest in that. The fence was nearly eight feet tall, built years ago to hinder the progress of her kind. But when you could turn into a bird, or a bat, or a monkey, where was the challenge? A dog like herself could not climb that fence, and she wasn't entirely sure her human self could, either. So she leaned against it idly, under the guise of just another rebellious kid, and waited for the sun to set.

[hattie eleanor madison]

It is so very dirty outside, compared to the pristine whiteness of her mother’s living room. Hattie liked it, liked how her mother’s heels click clacked against filthy cement, loved the way the wind whipped at her skirt, her hair. It wasn’t like the weak air conditioning in the apartment, where, during summer, Hattie had wallowed in the heat with her tongue lolling. Pushing strands of grimy hair, unpleasantly textured, out of her eyes, Hattie squinted, sounded out the words on the street sign ahead of her. The words are incomprehensible. Hattie was utterly lost, with no idea how to get back to those safe places- the alley where she had slept on stiff cardboard, the building where an old man with so many wrinkles had given her a sandwich, the warehouse where a girl had pushed a needle into her arm and Hattie had soared, in exchange for the wad of that green paper Hattie had found in her mother’s purse. But she liked that she didn’t know where she was; liked the maze of streets. It was nothing like the apartment- hallway, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, the window with the view. Hattie yipped with laughter, stopping beside a shiny car and digging in the pretty yellow bag she had stolen from an tired woman with too many children tugging at her sleeves, tugging at her attention. There was a bag of makeup buried at the bottom of the purse, and Hattie set to changing her face, using the car window as an impromptu mirror. A new Hattie needed a new face.

When she was done, she looked like her mother, but messier. Like when Isabel, little Isabel, had smeared paint all over her face and into her eyes. Hattie had sat back and laughed while Isabel cried. The little girl was such a little nuisance, stealing all of her mommy’s attention. Ellen was Hattie’s mommy, too, and Hattie didn’t want to share. Hattie had wanted Isabel to go away, but she hadn’t, so Hattie went away instead. It was better outside, anyways- it was sharper than the apartment, with it’s soft sheets and padded floors. Hattie loved the feel of concrete under her feet, against her hands. She smacked her lips, critical of the red stain of lipstick, as she pressed her hand against the car window and painted it with street grime. Everything should be dirty. Cleanliness was boring and sterile, and Hattie thought filthiness was like art. It was still rare and precious, because it was so very new.

Hattie tried to make one of the poses she had seen the women on the street last night. They had laughed at her when she had tried then, but Hattie rather thought she was getting better. She would have studied the women last night, but there had been a car, and then a man who wanted to touch her, and Hattie had eaten his face. She scrubbed at her collarbone thoughtfully, scratching away a smudge with her nail. There had been so much red. She could still smell it. The car had been fun, though, at least until she had crashed into a tree.

But she had to try everything once. It could be like those picture books Hattie used to filch out of her mother’s purse when she was little. It could be- Hattie’s Great Escape. Or Hattie’s Great Adventure. It could have titles like “The First Time Hattie Got High” and “The Day Hattie Learned What Pornography Was”. Maybe “That Time Hattie Ate Cat Food”? The pictures would be more fun than the pictures in her mother’s books. Hattie still wasn’t sure what a balloon was.

She grinned at the car window. Hattie-on-the-street didn’t look at all like Hattie-at-the-apartment. She liked Hattie-on-the-street better. That Hattie looked like she could claw your eyes out and then order herself a milkshake. She licked her lips, frowning at the tang of the lipstick. Hattie wanted another milkshake. Mommy never let her have any of that “junk”, and there was still some green paper money, money, money, need to remember that in the stolen purse. She ambled away from the car, in search of the illusive milkshake, wondering idly if the makeup would stay on if she shifted. Hattie-the-pretty-hyena. She giggled, and the sound boomed into a high pitched titter. The people on the street stared at her, and Hattie grinned at them, her teeth stained red. It could be the lipstick or the blood; Hattie didn’t know. Maybe the milkshake would wash it all away.

Hattie clomped past the silly, staring people, their necks choked with ties and high collars. She didn’t like the way they looked at her, cut their gazes away when she looked back. Trailing her hand against the brick of the building, she teetered past them and into an alley, just to get away from their eyes. Another girl was there. Hattie grinned at her, a little hopefully. “Do you know where I can get a milkshake?”

[KENNEDY MARIE JONES]

MY SHIP WENT DOWN
IN A SEA OF SOUND, WHEN I WOKE UP ALONE,
i had everything ,
A HANDFUL OF MOMENTS I WISHED I COULD CHANGE,
and a tongue like a nightmare that cut like a blade.

Kennedy's hazel eyes skimmed the street idly and she watched the occasional resident pass by. Some of them almost jogged by, obviously urgently needed by or in need of something. There were a few slower people, perhaps taking their time to browse in the crystal clear, enormous windows of the shops. Vaux was a wealthy city, full of grand, molded window frames for clean, clear window panes. There was almost always something extravagant behind one of those windows, and the only reason there wouldn't be was because a shipment was due or late. Vaux, being in the middle of nowhere essentially, took a while to receive goods. It was why the wealthy had come, and why the wealthy had stayed. Of course a lot of families had lost money over time, and after the outbreak of the shifters, a lot of money had grown old in bank vaults. Her parents had been in line for money, even at a young age because they had both come from wealthy families. But even wealth could not buy back their healthy DNA, and their status in society was forever tarnished.

Kennedy grit her teeth and wondered where that money had gone off to. She didn't know much about her family in the enormous city, and Kennedy was honestly only interested in the money they had. She was certain that once her mother and father had showed signs of being a shifter that they had both been cut off entirely, and it was evident that society had hated them. They'd been forced, as children no less, to live in the wilderness outside the city with some older folks who had been unlucky enough to want eternal health. That was it, wasn't it? They were paying for someone's greed in the long run. Well, greed worked wonders over generations, and Kennedy was certain it was something that was inherited. The girl scuffed her worn out sneaker across the cement and wished she had a cigarette, or something at least, to preoccupy herself. The afternoon sun was a lazy thing that clung to the center of the sky desperately, and it sank slowly across the sky. So slowly.

Kennedy winced at the thought of waiting there for a long while, and she knew that she'd be there just as long - if not longer - than she wanted to be. She dug her fingers into the spaces between the chain link and pursed her lips, pulling on the thin metal wall. She pushed it back, repeating the pattern idly as she leaned against the cool brick wall. It was warm enough to get away with what she was doing, and it would be warm enough to get away with more in due time. Winter was the worst, but it was spring now, and soon it would make way for summer. Summer was simply the most profitable season, with the long hours of sun and the general carefree nature of people. They didn't notice a slight bump to their purse or a weight lifted off of their wallet pocket. Summer was like a drug, and it was potent and abundant in the streets of Vaux. Kennedy glanced down at the concrete, which had become stained over the years of neglect. No one saw it, so why should they clean it? It smelled a little, too, but Kennedy had gotten used to stench worse than a dumpster and some unwashed pavement.

She blinked absently at first, then sharply as she realized there were sounds coming toward her. She tried to direct her expression into a carefully arrogant one, a mask of a typical rich teenager in the streets of Vaux, as she glanced up. But there was something in her eyes that would always be there, that faint spark of attentiveness, that spark of being just a little too aware to be a lazy, wealthy youth. There was a girl, dressed and made up in a way that Kennedy could only frown upon, who was approaching her. Kennedy's brow furrowed slightly and she unlaced her fingers from the chain link, letting it snap back into place with a metallic clang. The girl grinned, and Kennedy frowned. There was no immediate way to tell if someone was a shifter or not - no freaky eye color, no skin lesions, no temperature, nothing. This girl could just as easily turn into a whale as she could a wealthy society member. Kennedy shrugged a little, nonchalant as the girl spoke. Milkshake? "The mall maybe." Kennedy's voice had a faint accent to it, something a little more nasal than the people of Vaux, a little rougher. Her hazel eyes flicked to the girl's painted lips. "Any diner." It was a little odd to ask for a milkshake, wasn't it? And the nature of the question suggested she didn't honestly know - what normal kid didn't know where to get a milkshake from? Kennedy even knew, although she had no time, money or will to purchase one. "Why? Don't'cha know?" The accent presented itself a little heavier here, and her words almost slurred together with it. A hard gaze focused on the girl, and a frown tugged at the corners of Kennedy's lips.