Chapter Text
"You're a protector. There's no doubt in my mind someone like you should be leading the way, and I want to help get you there."
Blyke had to be honest, hearing someone tell him that felt...fucking great. A surge of pride in himself enveloped him at the core. To hear someone like John—someone he not only respected for his strength but genuinely enjoyed being around—say that to him?
...Damn it, don't get choked up! That'd be way too embarrassing!
Regardless, he was pumped! Remi gushed over how cool their match was to view and even freaking Seraphina—Fuck off, John, he's not a fanboy—complimented his quick thinking and versatile ability! She looked a bit...distant while she said it, but he figured that was just how she came off and took the compliment for what it was.
From leaving the Turf War area to boarding the train back to Wellston, there was a smile etched onto Blyke that he couldn't get rid of.
On their way back to Wellston, Remi gazed at John and Blyke, smiling as the two boys sat across from her and Seraphina. She had no regrets approving their use of the area; Seeing their spar and John's ability in action was a blast!
She was still trying to wrap her head around the latter, and she felt apologetic about hitting John with a barrage of questions on how it worked—some answered and some not, but she didn't blame him. His ability, his decision on what he gives out.
Being able to sense other peoples' aura and use their abilities by mimicking it, then amplifying it to make it stronger? It sounded insane and never crossed Remi's mind as a possibility, but with John, it seemed like he had a track record of making things possible when they shouldn't be...
Remi quickly centered herself before she went into daydream mode, not wanting that feeling from before to creep on her again. Instead, she ponders over what Blyke and John were talking about, discussing how and when to work Blyke's ability training and John's combat lessons into their schedules.
She rarely saw Blyke get so excited, but she wasn't complaining. She thought it was a great idea, actually. If there was anyone she knew who deserved to grow stronger and positively influence Wellston, Blyke would certainly be at the top of her list. He was her go-to substitute as Jack if she were ever unavailable—Isen would happily admit not wanting to do so—and he already practiced some responsibilities a Royal would need to do, whether on his own or when helping her out.
Blyke had the drive and heart for it; If he grew stronger, it would only help what they're trying to do, and Remi couldn't think of anyone else better suited for helping Blyke than John. Not just his persona, but even his ability seemed like the perfect conduit—showing what could be done and then guiding through how to do so.
And in return, Blyke would help teach the weaker students to defend themselves. An Elite-Tier talking to the lower-ranked students and actively helping keep them safe against unjust harm would be another great step in repairing the disconnect between the ranks.
She almost offered her help as well, but she was sure John and Blyke had more proficiency in hand-to-hand than she did anyway, and would do better teaching it. If they asked her though, she'd do so without a second thought! Maybe if there were a few more to teach?
...! An idea's been stored in the think tank!
She then wonders, with Blyke getting trained, could he ever become strong enough to match her? Sure, there was a considerable gap between their levels—and she wasn't exactly hoping to get kicked out of her position—but she believed in Blyke's potential, and if John did too, then that only solidified it.
Her position didn't define her capabilities. Royal or not, she'd still do whatever she could to help.
"I don't see the point of it."
Remi's smile slowly fades, her expression becoming more uncertain as she leans back into her seat and her eyes drift to the girl beside her. Seraphina held her arms tightly crossed, maintaining a stiff posture against the train seat. Her gaze was distant, scrutinizing something, but not focused on anything particular, not even at Blyke and John's rowdy behavior as they went off-topic to have another nonsensical argument.
She was almost statue-like, Remi thought as she looked at her, and continued to do so out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps there was something she saw in the clear blue eyes of her Queen. She hoped it wasn't just something she was forcing herself to see, but...beneath the chilling ice, she thought she saw doubt.
Doubt of what? She wasn't sure. Her eyes snapped away from Seraphina's when it seemed like the girl would catch her staring—
Looking! Just looking, big difference...
She'll just go on her phone for now, completely unrelated to all this, obviously.
Remi internally sighed. The disconnect in the atmosphere was getting to her. While the air around John and Blyke felt light, lively, and excitable, the space between Seraphina and herself just felt cold and awkward; Not a single word had been said between the two since they departed from the turf grounds and gotten onto the train. Remi wanted to say something to change this, but she just wasn't sure what. Nothing felt good enough in her head, and she really didn't want to say something dumb and make it even more awkward and—
Seraphina, all the while, felt the same—even if she didn't portray it in her expression as much.
She tried to ignore it, to brush off whatever made her so uncomfortable with the way she and Remi's conversation ended back at the Turf War Grounds. Regardless of her few attempts at doing so, however, it all just seemed to fall short. From trying to fall into a bored daze with the white noise of the train whistling them along back to their dormitories, or focusing on the sun barely peaking through the clouds off in the distance as it reached closer and closer to sunset, to even trying to understand whatever John and Blyke were talking about across from her and knitting her brow in trying to decide whatever playful insult John had just aimed at Blyke was impressively creative or just demented.
The last one almost allowed a smile to cross her lips, before she just...felt it beside her, not even needing to glance Remi's way to know that her eyes were on Seraphina. She'd spent so much time with others watching her every move that sensing that encroaching feeling became almost second nature to her.
Remi's gaze, however, felt...different. It didn't feel invasive, not like painfully precise needle pins piercing through her entirety and pulling her up and along however they needed her to appear, that threaten to make her fall apart if just one gets pulled away. No, it was...careful and considerate, a curious and hopeful wish it could find a way for this strung-up doll to be untied from it all, if only a bit at the least, so that it may allow itself to move as it wished, even if it needed to do so with another's help.
It was a profoundly unique feeling, and she couldn't help but slightly glance Remi's way, hoping to see all of that portrayed in the simplistic, earnest depth of those light red eyes. Before they could connect, Remi jerked her head, staring off in a direction opposite to Seraphina's.
Seraphina keeps her gaze held there for a moment, wondering—perhaps...hoping—that Remi would end up looking back. She doesn't, even reaching down to scroll through her phone it seems, and it would take a keen eye for one to notice the way disappointment tugs at the Queen of Wellston.
Disappointment, followed by accreting irritation. She stares down at the steel floor of the train, threatening to burn a hole into it. Why was this, of all things, bothering her?
Because she's the problem.
It's that echo from before; That cold, authoritative reminder of all that she's been taught, of every rule her parents embedded in her world view with every action they made, and it tells her there's something wrong with Remi. This girl who leads with naive kindness instead of true authority, who thinks she can somehow change the way society has shown them how to behave, even if just within the confined pocket world of a school.
She has no sense of discipline. Her idealistic purpose leads her through the lens of a child's fairy tale version of the world. She can't even cause the changes she wants to make on her own. She has to make use of the others around her for it to even be possible, as if they were her equals.
God, it felt like she was back in training, where not just the techniques of her ability were drilled into her—forced to repeat the motions hundreds of times, even as the backlash grew worse and worse and she could barely stand by the end of it—but also the way they needed to view the world, the only way they were allowed to view it.
"Understand your proper place, achieve everything that is destined for you, and govern the ones below you with absolute perfection. That's what it means to be born into the Evermore family. Everyone you encounter that aids you along the way is simply a stepping stone, putting itself in its proper place so that you may reach your rightful pedestal."
And yet, this girl doesn't seem to understand that. That she's not meant to be someone who can rise to enact such changes, and yet will still try.
She's a risk. A benign parasite that could become malignant if left to her own devices. Those idiotic ideals of hers need to be crushed.
Seraphina's nails digged into her palms, knuckles growing white while she threatens to have red drip down her skin.
She's trying to defy the nature of the system that places you where you rightfully deserve to be. It would take away the power and hold you're meant to have over the ones below you. Your pedestal would mean nothing, chopped down bit by bit until it no longer exists and you're forced on equal footing with all the damn imperfections.
Seraphina's entire body is tensed, solid as stone as she falls into familiar habits when these reminders came to her. Stay quiet and accept what is demanded, formulate pathways that can allow her to reach the destination she wanted, so that the reminders can become docile again—
Except, in a moment of silent realization, she stops before starting, and her eyes widen as she reaches a conclusion she wasn't supposed to.
There would be no pedestal to stand on...
To let myself be brought down to those who are imperfect means...it would be fine for me to be as well.
Perfection wouldn't be a necessity. She could just...be as she wants to be.
She glances up at the boy opposite of her.
Like you are.
In that moment, the reminders pull away from the forefront of her mind, and now she simply feels...content. Enough to settle that feeling in the air and turn to look at her Jack, "Hey, Remi—"
"Seraphina, I need your number!"
Remi suddenly says, bridging the gap between them as she leaned in closer, pulling so lightly on Seraphina's sleeve even as her tone was rather urgent. When Seraphina could shift her gaze away from the red eyes she'd wanted to see into moments before, she noticed Remi was shaking her phone, showing off an image.
Oh, that's the photo of us after she became Jack.
...I thought I was smiling when she took it?
"I never asked for it so I could send the pic over to you and it's been months! Gah, it kept slipping my mind!" She explained, apologetic and rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment.
"Don't beat yourself over it," Seraphina replied. It's not like she had asked Remi to.
"You're a bit behind on everything, aren't you?" John remarked, unfortunately having ended a game of Slappy Pig just before attaining a higher score.
"Hush, John." Remi and Seraphina responded, almost simultaneously, and John quickly took to holding up his hands as a sign of surrender.
Blyke coughed a laugh. "Shut you up real quick," he said, earning him an elbow to the arm that almost made him drop his phone. "Dickhead!"
Just before John and Blyke went back to their shit-talking, Remi intervened after finishing inputting Seraphina's number—who'd surprisingly given it without a second thought, "Actually, while I'm at it, I need to get yours too, John!"
That would make communicating easier, wouldn't it.
Remi nodded after saving his number, thanking the two and immediately sending Seraphina the image.
"Oh, one more thing! What's your favorite colors?"
That question got a raised brow from John and Seraphina until Blyke chimed in. "Remi likes to put hearts next to our names in her phone, different colors if she can."
"Yup," Remi nodded with a smile, leaning in to show a few off to Seraphina. "Like, Arlo's green, Elaine's light blue, Isen's red, and Blyke's orange!" She said, before adding on that, "Well, those aren't exactly Isen and Blyke's favorite colors, but you know...yeah!"
It took a second for Seraphina to understand, but she got it. Ah.
"How cute," John remarked, looking off at Blyke with a shit-eating smirk, one that quickly filled Blyke's urge to watch it disappear when Ryu kicked his ass into the dirt.
Just you wait, you're gonna get got!
"So, what about you two?" Remi asked, and John was first to answer.
"Blue," He said, before correcting himself, "Dark blue, specifically, if you can." He used the hoodie he was wearing as an example. No surprise, it was his favorite one.
"Cool, you got it!" She said, then looked at Seraphina.
Seraphina crossed her arms, closing her eyes for a moment and pondering if she even had a favorite color. She never exactly favored one over the other. They all had their use for something, but none of them had ever stood out to—
Her eyes slowly open to give John a harsh side-eye.
"Are you seriously humming the theme song to Geopardy right now?"
John, caught red-handed, just shrugged. "Honestly, it should not take you over five seconds to answer that question."
There was a brief pause, and Seraphina's gaze digged into John.
Good show, mom watched that a lot. Blyke remembered fondly.
But then Seraphina responded. Not to John, but to Remi.
"...Black."
As Remi nodded and looked for a black heart emoji—Interesting choice, she thought—Seraphina kept her eyes on John, watching surprise fill his eyes as for just a brief second he tried to look up at his bangs.
Seraphina's next statement took all that attention away.
"By the way, that rendition was God. Awful."
"What?! Bullshit, that was pitch perfect!"