I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.

Timeline/World: Newfound Worlds – Erisia – Peculiar
Current Date: February 3, 1401

Character: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 22
Current residence: Peculiar, Erisia
 

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I’ve always been fascinated by the way buildings were, well, built. With what was necessary to make sure they stayed upright but, on that same note, I’ve also always been fascinated by their general architecture. Mind you, I think I was sixteen when I first learned the word architecture. It wasn’t as though it was discussed all that much.

Yes, there were people with the knowledge of how to put houses and buildings together but all the buildings were made with the same basic blueprint; every house on the middle level was the same if you took away the possible finishing touches that might have been added to the house. Some were smaller, others were a little bigger—to accommodate different-sized families—but they were all the same. The houses on the upper level were the same too; they were inherently bigger because it was supposed to be the higher-tiered spot but they still were all the same. If you were familiar with one house, you could near-perfectly navigate any of the others.

It was while I was roaming underground that I found that first book on architecture. It was a relic from the older times when clearly, the world was a very, very different place and people didn’t have to deal with the blue tide every other decade and the air wasn’t poisoned—or toxic, or whatever it is. There still are days that I marvel that we’ve found this domeless spot and that the air is so crisp.

So when it did come time to fix up some of the other buildings in this new world of ours, all eyes turned to me. I tried to back out of helping them because figuring things out when I’d never even had a chance to do anything of the sort before was honestly discomforting and I was afraid of just letting them all down.

Leave it to me to be self-deprecating by trying to point out that I was sure they’d all noticed by now that I rarely ever had any idea as to what I was doing and, well, that didn’t go over so well because a good chunk of the people now living here are family and at times they know me better than I know myself. So I let myself be talked into helping and while I wasn’t really all that sure at the beginning, I guess practice does make perfect and I’ve gotten better. I’m not perfect, and I don’t think I’ll ever be, but I can sort of tell easier when the integrity of a building has been compromised and I can even explain it in a way that seems to make sense to others.

Of the few non-necessities I brought along, there were some of the books I had found years ago underground. Not all of them, as I’d honestly gotten my hands on a somewhat surprising collection, but still a good few and I’ve read them all from one end to the other during the quieter times when light is still a possibility. It’s been one of those things to get used to again, the lack of full electricity though we’ve found means and we do have some but it’s not an all-time thing and, you know, it’s not that bad.

When I stop to think about how things have changed, I have to shake my head at myself a little. I’m not going to lie, when we first started to make plans to leave the dome behind, I did think that we were going to end up just sort of barely scraping by while out here. Living out of our drop tents, hunting whatever we might have found. Survival twenty-four-seven and little more. I was still ready to do it, though; possibly because so many others of ours were, but I was willing.

I was ready to live in drop mode until we got our feet back under ourselves because that meant getting away from everything that was wrong with the dome, even if certain of these things had changed with time. I didn’t expect for us to find still viable buildings and almost-crops; I didn’t expect us to find clear, running water in enough supply that we didn’t have to worry about it. There’s just so much that I was needlessly worried about but I don’t think I can be blamed and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was certain we’d have to rough it out while we figured ourselves out.

Now, well we’re doing good. Some days are harder than others but that was the case back in the dome too; just for different reasons. I don’t want to go back out there if we can help it and currently, we’re in what used to be the winter season in the dome and while some of the nights have been chilly, it hasn’t been cold and while we’ve seen snow near what we can see of the summit of the mountains that surround us in the distance on all side, there hasn’t been a single drop.

So, you know, I’ll take it gladly.

Final Word Count: 854

Why do I have the feeling that this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten stuck in my couch?

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Hopeful Beginnings
Current Date: December 26, 2027

Character: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 19
Current residence: Klahanie, Washington
 

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Over the last few years, the house was beginning to feel empty. I mean, we were all growing up, the older ones were moving out though none of them moved out very far and little by little, only a handful of us remained, even if the others visited often. I know that Agathe has given the thought of fostering a lot of, well, thought. The house is more than big enough, and I think that it would probably give her a sense of something important. I don’t know how to put it, I’m just saying how it feels it might be. She’s had a lot of us around for years and it just feels like it’d be about the proper way.

Anyway. We found a comfortable apartment only a short distance from downtown but we’re only going to be able to move in at the beginning of July next year. In a way, that suits me fine, it gives us time to pack up and it gives Flynn time to finish up with school. We could have moved out last summer, but I didn’t really want Flynn to have to deal with the whole thing while he was still in school, and I don’t know that he’d have been allowed to come live with us as is.

One of the changes that happened in the house once Dad was taken away and the place was rebuilt, is that animals came to be added to the family. Though I say animals, I mostly mean cats. One here, another there. Each cat eventually seemed to adopt one person more than the rest and when that person moved out, the cat went with. I know that dogs never would have been part of the household, allergies in some would have made that a pretty bad idea and while I know that some cats and dogs get along well together, who knows how that would have worked out in the end.

We’ve talked about the potential of getting a cat or two once we do all move out. While I was possibly not the greatest one when it came to taking care of the few ones we had at the house now, I think it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have them at the apartment and I know that our landlord allows them. I guess it’s mostly because I remember, near the beginning, that there was one particular cat—a kitten back then—that kept on getting stuck in the couches.

I have no idea how it managed that much but I lost track of how often we would get home, and someone would find it still stuck in the couch. We’d laugh softly at the whole thing and gently manage to get it unstuck. I think that the first time it happened, it was Annabelle who found it and I faintly remember her amused musing about how she had a feeling that it wasn’t the first time, nor the last, that it had gotten stuck in the couch.

In a way, as I see it, I feel like having a pair of cats—at least—in the apartment would be a sort of good thing. The antics of the cats, and the love and affection they can offer. It might be strange coming from me, but, you know, I think that having a pet like that might help me too? I mean, my meds do their jobs just fine, but I still have some ups and downs, but I know for a near-fact that being around the cats, when there still were some in the house, always helped me in some way. I don’t know how to really explain it, but it is how I felt about it, in the long run.

It feels like it’s a bit too late to be bringing new cats into the house at this point, they’d only get a few months here before they’d be moved again, and I don’t know how I feel about doing that. I know that they’re animals that thrive on a routine and disrupting that routine just a few months down the road because we’re finally ready to go feels unfair. I’m sure that by the time we’ll be ready to move out, there will be plenty of cats at the shelter we might be able to bring home. Their age doesn’t really matter to me, either. I mean, we won’t get as much time with an older time as we might get a younger one, but if an older cat needs a home and they’re friendly and all, I won’t deny them that chance.

Everyone deserves a chance, right?

Final Word Count: 779

I knew it was going to be an interesting day the moment you lit my shoelaces on fire.

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Family Values
Current Date: November 2, 2022

Character: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 17
Current residence: Warwick, New York
 

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I can’t believe I only have one year left as far as high school is concerned and, let’s face it, we’re already a couple of months in and then that’s it. Not that I have big plans yet for the moment I do graduate. I mostly know where I do want to go, and I know what I want in life but I’m not in any rush to go right into that as I graduate. I think that just taking a year to figure other things out can’t hurt.

That and waiting on Flynn to graduate too. I think I can stay in the city for the major I know I want to head into, and I’ve looked into that but I do want to just sit down with him so we can figure ourselves out and where we’re going to go and all. I have no desire to rush him into decisions, especially since he still has a year more left to go once we’re done, too.

Anyway.

Just before Halloween, I was gathering up my things and waiting for Acheron to join us so we could head home, and I caught bits and pieces of a conversation I don’t think I should have heard at all. I mean, I don’t think they were very quiet about their discussion one way or another. It’s not like there was much to it either but it was just marking, I guess.

I don’t even know who the other party was, but I know that the person I heard was someone a couple of grades under us. I’ve seen him in passing, mostly because his locker isn’t too far from mine and that’s about it. The school isn’t huge, but I don’t go out of my way to meet with everyone and that’s possibly for the best. I couldn’t imagine doing that.

All I really caught of their conversation—I did hear whoever he was talking to snort in response—was something about how he’d known it was going to be an interesting day the moment the person he was speaking to had lit his shoelaces on fire. It made me pause and I had to ask myself if I’d really understood what he’d said all that well.

Who lights someone else’s shoelaces on fire? Maybe it’s just in the way I was raised or in whatever else happened in my life, but I don’t see how it would make any sort of sense to light someone’s shoelaces on fire. Am I the odd one? If so, my whole family must be because I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything of the sort be mentioned. Of course, I’m nearly the youngest and there’s plenty I’ve missed out with my brothers and sisters but still.

By that point, Acheron was just turning the corner and we headed out front to wait on the few others who still were walking home with us but that was the end of that particularly strange conversation that I overheard. It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it still was so strange in its own way that it still has been on my mind.

I can’t imagine that this would have been a line from a play—I mean, it could have been, but this guy, from what little I’ve seen of him, seems to be more the sports-and-girls type than the drama-and-music type. Not that all people who enjoy theatre love music and vice versa, I’m just generalizing. Even if it was, it still felt very out there and out of place so it’s one of those things and I know I’m going to have to let it go.

What would I even do if someone came up to me and lit my shoelaces on fire? I mean, for one thing, my shoes don’t have shoelaces, and for another, I don’t know that I would want anyone near my feet one way or another. It’s one of those things that make me wonder a bit. I know that there are all types of people out there who like all types of things but I’m not comfortable with other people touching my feet, even if said other people-slash-person is my significant other. I just don’t care for it.

Foot rub after a hard day filled with possibly a lot of walking? I’ll take a gentle pass on that and just sit my feet in hot water for a little while, possibly with a few herbs in there to help but I’d rather not have anyone touching my feet other than myself if I can help it. It’s just one of those things and I’m well aware that I’m allowed to be uncomfortable with whatever it is I’m uncomfortable with. So that’s what that is.

Final Word Count: 796

There are things you can blame me for and then there’s this. This is definitely not my fault.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Hopeful Beginnings
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 18
Current residence: Klahanie, Washington
Final Word Count: 816 words
 

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When graduation came around last summer, I found myself more than a little confused. I hadn’t expected things to happen as quickly as they had, in a way. At least, I think that’s how my brain was trying to make sense of it all. For some reason, I think I still felt as though I had had another year ahead of myself. Not that I’d been held back, not that I hadn’t paid attention to all things school—my grades were all very high—I just hadn’t realized, I guess that this was it.

I was aware that this was our last school year, but I guess that, at the same time, it just hadn’t really clicked that it really was. I guess that to my brain, it’s just been a repetition of schooling year after schooling year and the end of it hadn’t registered. I just don’t know.

Anyway.

I think that this particular issue, that my twin wryly refers to as ‘The Mess’ and you can almost hear the capital letters when he says it, happened a couple of weeks before final exams. I’m not even truly certain what happened for the fact that it was so out of the blue, not a single one of us could wrap our minds around any of it while we couldn’t help but watch it unfold.

I think that trouble students, a term I’m not exactly fond of since I’ve been dumped to that group often enough before my psychiatrist was doing their jobs and my medication was working fine, will always be a part of any school. Not everyone has the same way of looking at students and not everyone will apply the same term to others. So, one teacher might see a kid as a troublesome student while another teacher will not.

Now, this particular student was just a flat-out troublemaker. All of the teachers were aware of it, they usually kept a pretty good eye on him but every so often, he managed to just go by unseen because the teachers were focused on something else—he was good with keeping track of that—and he’d slip away. It would only be a few moments later that we’d hear a dismayed exclamation somewhere nearby as someone came across one of his little shows of rebellion.

I lost count of how often painted tags had to be removed from walls, ceilings, floors and other things.

On that particular day, when one teacher came upon a rather rude painted drawing, blame was quick to be placed on the student’s shoulders but he argued like I don’t think I’d heard him argue before, that there was plenty he’d done while at the school that he could have been blamed for and then there was that thing. He refused to take the blame for the drawing and, you know, I was sort of inclined to believe him.

Now, as far as that’s concerned in the long run, I can only imagine that they went and checked the security feed before going any further on things but that’s something they’d have to deal with, I have nothing to do with that and it’s none of my business. I did want to possibly believe him, though, because I’d seen him in art class. I’d seen how good he was with straight lines; I’ve seen what he can do with curved free hand lines too but actually drawing something that aren’t letters? You’d think an infant had been given a pencil and tried to scribble something.

Even I don’t do great at art if it isn’t architectural in basis, but I can still manage to draw people in a way that wasn’t that much worse than the so-called art that had been graffitied. He’s terrible at it, though, I’ve seen him attempt to draw more than words or symbols and he just can’t manage. That was why I believed that he hadn’t done it at that particular time.

In the long run, it’s just not helpful when you’re the only student that has been caught putting graffiti everywhere he could. Now, it’s none of my business, in the long run, I think it just sort of took the whole school a bit by storm because the rather adult-in-theme thing was in the main hallway on the very first floor, so everyone had to walk by it. They’d covered it since I figured they didn’t have what they needed on hand to deal with it, but students will talk and, well yeah, most of the school had at least a faint idea as to the depicted image, even if they hadn’t seen it and it turned out to be a bit of a mess.

At this point, I’m just glad I’m done. Not that the school was a bad school. I’m just glad I’ve been able to get to other things.

The things you two argue about blow my mind sometimes. I’m going to go over there and do something productive to help us out of this situation.

 
Timeline/World: Newfound Worlds – Erisia – Rockbourne Dome
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 21
Current residence: Rockbourne Dome, Erisia
Final Word Count: 768 words
 

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I still have nightmares about the last winter drop, and that was two years ago at this point. It’s not as though it was really any more difficult than any of the other ones, but when it’s your last year of drops, you sort of end up being paired with the younger ones to help give them a sense of what they’re going to be up against. The drops have gotten mostly easier, but they’re still no piece of cake; drops are about survival, one way or another. That’s never going to change, or, well, it might once the people in charge change but that’s something I won’t be there to witness.

I’m not gonna lie, I would have much preferred to have been dropped with my brother but that’s just one of those things and I was expecting it. We all know it happens, we all prepare for it. It was my second drop not being paired with him. The first hadn’t been so bad. Autumn drops weren’t too terrible, though, fairly often, it rained like nobody’s business for one day or two of that drop and that made things a bit more difficult but the winter drops, with all that snow and the rest, man.

In my little drop set, there was me, d’uh, a woman from one grade down whose name, I think, was Patricia. The moment we all got back together, she somehow managed to find means to switch places to share her tent with her bestie, from what I understood of it. With us, two kids who were on their first winter drops. Siblings, a boy and a girl because, you know, we’re dropped in groups of four with two tents as even though the men and women drop together now, we’re still mostly expected to sleep in unmixed tents and that’s fine, really.

The siblings argued throughout the whole drop. Though I suppose that’s not the worst of it. The worst of it is that we got dropped on a slope—by no fault of our pilot—and Patricia, upon landing, couldn’t find purchase on anything and she ended up sliding down a good distance. So, when the two kids dropped and looked at our predicament, they started bickering.

No amount of trying to get them to shut up and work together to help me get her back up—it was impossible for her to climb, not without outside help—did me any favours. So, I ended up yelling at them to shut up and start the climb up to the plateau if they couldn’t be bothered to even understand the basic point of the drop even from the start. Yeah, I know. Me, yelling. At least, once they were too busy climbing carefully, I had some quiet and I managed to get myself secured, find a real strong arse stick that was more a broken branch than anything else.

I secured that to a just as secure tree with my rope. I lowered that to her, we got her hanging onto it, and she scrambled for purchase with her feet while I worked on pulling her back up. It was hard work, she thankfully did it all without bitching once so while I was a little mad that I got switched ‘adult’ partners once we made it to camp, I have to give her that much, she didn’t act like a spoiled princess.

She did even thank me when she got up. Asked me where the kids were, I gave her a brief rundown of the situation and we both started on the way up after them.

They were bickering at the top when we got there. Surprisingly, they huffed to temporary silence when Patricia made it to their sides. I can’t even begin to put into words how grateful I was for that one. It’s only at the end of the drop that I realized they were family and she probably switched to not be stuck with them. I’m sure that if they bicker all the way as they did during the drop, I can’t blame her for doing that. I don’t know how I could handle listening to my siblings bicker the way these two were at it during the whole drop whenever they were near one another.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure they were twins. Not that it changes much. They did work hard, but man, even through the tent sides, at times, they’d bicker, I just don’t get it and I’m grateful that I didn’t have to deal with them on the other two drops I had left.

This is exactly what I asked for and by that, I mean, not at all.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Family Values
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 16
Current residence: Warwick, New York
Final Word Count: 748 words
 

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I’m a fair bit of a wallflower. For years, my unbalanced emotions made me a target and I tried hard to keep my head low. I didn’t want the attention of anyone unless I desperately had to have that attention and, honestly, I never did.

Even now, with my steady meds and my moods more or less on par as to what they should be, I’m a wallflower. I’ve discovered that, at this point, it possibly stems more from my being an introvert than anything else. Don’t get me started on architecture though, I will talk your ears off about it, I just find it so fascinating. I love designing my own outside buildings and just putting in all of the right details. Getting the indoor stuff down is a bit harder but hey, I’m still young, right? I have time. I mean, I know it’ll be a five-year thing once I get into university, and I’ve actually already looked at that.

Now, being an introvert does mean that, now and again, I’ve let others walk on my toes and I haven’t said anything about it. Though I don’t think that so much comes from being an introvert though I could be wrong. I just don’t like to call attention to myself and complaining about things like these falls pretty much right into that category.

Earlier this summer, we were getting our lunch at a small burger place that’s more a mom-and-pop place than a chain, it’s usually pretty full, honestly. People seem to love coming to the place, but we’d managed to find a booth and all four of us were there. It was a nice, warm summer day that just begged for a burger—something I’d only ever eaten made at home up until a couple of years ago. Even now, it’s rare that we go out to restaurants, though little dates like this are nice every now and again.

I ordered my burger—we all did—all with the condiments we wanted in them because, you know, they do make them in the back and you can add in a few extras and I did ask for them to not put any onions in mine, even though I knew I could remove them. They’re full rings of thinly sliced raw onion and I just don’t digest them well.

So our order comes, we each take our food, thank our server and even before I bite into me, I have to open up the burger and, yeah, pull out the onions. It’s just one more step but I know she’d noted it down and I know that I should have told her, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I also don’t really have enough of a sarcastic bone in my body so while I know that some others might have had some snark to offer about how that was totally what they’d asked for, it’s not something I find myself able to do.

When she came to check up on us, she asked us if everything was fine and yeah, true to my sad, very wallflower and keep to myself nature, I told her, along with everyone else, that everything was great. I got kicked under the table by my loving twin for it but it’s one of those things. He knows I can’t bring myself to complain about these things, especially considering that it didn’t take me much effort to remove the onions.

After we were done and it was time to leave, I did look the bill over and yeah, the no-onion thing wasn’t even on there, so I guess she either hadn’t noted it down at all—I’m aware that I’m very soft-spoken—or she’d just forgotten to put it into the order when she sent it to the back. I just don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really matter this point. It didn’t change the taste of the food much, not with the other few condiments I’d asked for that had really been in there.

Some would probably like to claim that this tiny little detail would have ruined their outing but, really, it was just a couple of thin onion slices in my food, it hardly is the end of the world. Had my request been based on an allergy, things would have been different, but it really was just because I don’t really digest them well, so in the long run, it turned out to be just fine.

It’s almost as if my sense of humour dried up overnight. Now you’re stuck with what I have to offer. How unfortunate.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Hopeful Beginnings
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 16
Final Word Count: 646 words
 

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I don’t like group projects unless my twin is part of that group. He knows me and my potential mood swings best and he just knows how to handle them when they happen. Though, in a way, I suppose I should say that I just don’t like groups, as is. I know my family best and the significant others of my siblings but being placed in a group for one reason or another isn’t something I’m comfortable with.

So you can imagine my discomfort when my shrink—the guy I wasn’t comfortable with has finally been dealt with but this new woman is… something else. She’s not terrible but she’s not great so far—decides to do a group session without really telling any of us beforehand. I honestly think that’s against the law somewhere, it has to be. There’s the whole thing about client privacy or whatever it is that makes it so she can’t discuss us with others and all but anyway.

This morning, I stepped in for my appointment to find five other teens, all around my age, it felt like, sitting in the waiting room and, well, waiting. I had to double-check the little card she’d given me last time with the date and time because I felt like I hadn’t come at the right time but I had. She’d scheduled all six of us at the same time for a group session and I still don’t get why she’s done that at all.

It’s not like we’re supposed to do group therapy and it’s not even about therapy. She’s supposed to be a psychiatrist, not a psychologist.

The whole thing didn’t turn out to be terrible but I didn’t really say a thing during the whole hour and thankfully she didn’t call on me. I don’t think I’d have been able to say anything at all anyway. Of the six of us, only three spoke at length and one, a guy who clearly didn’t want to be here any more than the rest of us, made a bland-intoned joke about how it was almost as if his sense of humour had dried up overnight and now we were stuck with what he had to offer.

It did get a few wry chuckles from the others but that was about it. I just wish we could find the one psychiatrist who does their job the way I’m sure they’re supposed to. All I want is for them to keep track of my medication and how I handle it and change it as necessary. I don’t want to talk about things, I don’t want to open up about my mood swings though I know that talking about them some is necessary for the psychiatrist to be able to pinpoint if things are working or not. I do get that, I do.

When I left that meeting, three of us were shaking our heads and keeping our distances from the other half of the group who seemed to have bonded over the whole experience. Again, I think there’s the issue with the fact that if this had been a psychologist pulling that sort of stupid move, I could have somewhat understood, but it wasn’t.

Coupled with the fact that, yet again, there was no prior mention of this group ‘therapy’ thing, it just doesn’t sit right with me.

I brought it up to Agathe when I got home and she didn’t look really happy about the whole thing. She said she’d talk it over with Erland so they could figure things out and maybe, just hopefully so, find someone else for me to see because, at this point, I’m just getting frustrated. She’d done well up until this point, this new doc, but this weird group-visit move seems to have undone all that hard work.

I don’t know what to think.

You weren’t looking out for me; you were looking out for yourself.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Family Values
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 14
Final Word Count: 681 words
 

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I don’t know what prompted the whole thing. I’m not even sure I want to know. Just the sight of the broken project on the table is enough to make me want to give up and I know that this reaction might not be very far from what will happen. I’ve taken my pills, I know my moods are balanced, I know I have no reason for feeling the way I do and yet, I do. I think it’s because I poured so much of myself into this whole thing only to have the final product be ripped to pieces because of… relationship drama?

At least, what’s what it looks like to me and I don’t think I’m very wrong. This is probably why I like mostly working with my siblings or, you know… Pat or Flynn when we’re doing inter-grade projects. We tend to do one every year and it’s always interesting to see what comes from it.

Right now, though, I’m just looking at what was a well-drawn out and built up from scratch miniature restaurant building and I want to scream. I spent hours making that plan; I spent days working on the mock-up of the miniature building. The other three were working on the presentation; they were working on the menu, on the look of the decor. We have a ‘signed’ contract that detailed what each of us was working on and it was working so well up until this morning.

Now, the unhappy couple has had a fight over someone not looking out for their partner and only themselves and hours and days of work have been destroyed in an angry fit. The menu is in pieces, the binder with swatches of paint, cloth and probably even bits of wood was mangled and the beautiful work I’d done on the building itself is destroyed. The stupid girl doesn’t even look apologetic about it all. She just ripped it all to pieces while screaming at her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend at this point, I’m sure—and she’s more focused on her own emotions than she is on the project she ruined. A project we’ve been working on for the better part of a month. It’s been an on and off effort but the effort was now wasted.

I don’t have a backup of the building work I’d done. I still have all the plans and they’re ridiculously detailed but I don’t have another 3D building ready to go, I also don’t have the energy needed to get another one done in less than twenty-four hours because that was when the project was due. One of us will have to talk to the teacher and I suppose I might as well because the other two are completely ignoring one another and the fourth member of our team is just looking at everything with eyes as big as they can get. I’m pretty sure he can’t wrap his mind around it all either.

So once the teacher comes in, I suppose I’ll have to go ahead and head for her desk. I don’t like to complain and this is going to feel like complaining but there’s nothing else I can do. I refuse to fail this class because someone decided that her love life was more important than at least a passing grade in a class. I can’t settle for a passing grade either, I don’t know that it would sit well with me either. There’s just so much here that could have been done differently but what can I really do at this point? Not a whole lot.

I’ll whine, huff and complain once I’m home. I’m pretty sure I’m likely to just break down and cry over the whole thing at lunch too. There’s nothing else I can do. I mean, I could just stay up all night to try and get another one done but I don’t have enough material on hand and I’ve done my part, I’ve worked hard enough, I need my sleep if I want to be able to function.

I need a miracle. It doesn’t even have to be a big one. A small miracle. A pebble. A something!

 
Timeline/World: Newfound Worlds – Erisia – Rockbourne Dome
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 19
Final Word Count: 683 words
 

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Drops have become… tedious. Not that they weren’t before, but at least, before all of the new kids were old enough to come on to the drops and the older ones hadn’t stopped coming, things were different. It really was more about working together towards a goal; it was about working on your strengths and figuring out your weaknesses so you could become a better soldier.

Now? Now this feels like everyone is five to eight years old. There’s running around; there’s splashing in the lake during the spring and summer drops if we’re near one; there’s play fighting because they’re bored; there’s flirting with the women and placing bets on who can bed which one the first. It’s exhausting. I feel like I’m babysitting toddlers and that’s saying a lot.

All in all, though, I think it’s mostly because this current group of new recruits just hasn’t quite registered that this isn’t the way to behave. I want to place the blame on the officers who are teaching these kids. We were better behaved than this when we went on our first drops, no matter that the way drops work have changed since these. To these kids, it seems more like a vacation than anything else and it’s exhausting.

At that point, all I wanted was some sort of miracle. I needed something to distract me as otherwise I was just going to end up ripping my hair out and no one wants to see me sans hair. That wouldn’t be a nice sight.

So really, I didn’t need a big miracle, I just needed something small, you know, like a pebble coming down from the rock wall we had at our backs. It looked like the safest spot to set our tents; don’t get me started on how much work that required, either. I wanted to cry. I spent more time trying to get these idiots to set up their tents right than making sure they were. I had to call them back to order eight times in the span of two hours because they weren’t listening.

I didn’t get my miracle, mind you. When I came back from that drop, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the transport back—both from the drop zone to the dome and through the mountain trip. I never do that. I subsequently fell asleep on the lift—it’s not like that’s a very long ride. I then barely made it to my bed and I wouldn’t have made it at all if not for my twin.

I think the instructors just aren’t doing their jobs right. For the most part, they’re older folks who would probably prefer staying home to having to come out to teach new kids about these things. Not all of them are that way but most seem to be. I should probably give my name for the specialty. Not that it’s really what I want to do but I don’t know that they need anyone new in botany. Then again, I haven’t seen anyone new in botany in years, so it might be best if I stick to my primary specialization idea.

I don’t function well when I’m exhausted; I don’t think anyone functions well when they’re exhausted and having to play babysitter on these drops is not right. It almost makes me want to go back to being dropped in pairs and just trying to make it until the pick up point as that pair but I don’t think it would be very fair. Quite a few of us have people we work better with and not being with these people on drops would likely be counterproductive.

As is, I think I’m just going to keep on hoping for little miracles on each and every drop. It seems to be the only way to get through it all without wanting to shove sharp sticks up people’s… behind. I’m not a violent person, I don’t have a violent bone in my body but I still think that these kids need to really understand what’s at stake, here.

It’s a strange and frightening thing to see yourself at your worst.

 
Timeline/World: Urbana LaCrosse University – Hopeful Beginnings
Characters: Adriano Areleous
Race: Human
Age: 16
Final Word Count: 664 words
 

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I had it all planned out in my head. All of it. I was going to tell him that he made me uncomfortable and that he pushed me to dig into things I wasn’t, well, comfortable with. I had other words than those but I’m just really uncomfortably flustered right now and I can’t formulate things so well. I wish I could, I do. I’m a lot more eloquent than this usually but right now, I feel like I can barely put my sentences together.

Agathe said that it was for my own good. I can understand why she would say that and I don’t hold it against her, I don’t. I don’t hold it against Erland either to have backed her in that decision. He has medical knowledge, just, I don’t think it’s knowledge to do with the mind but still. I know my mood swings are a problem, they’ve been a problem for years and no one has been able to really pinpoint their sources.

I’ve been to more than one psychologist before I was moved to a psychiatrist. Everyone has seen the former after dad was taken away, after we’d all had some time to settle in. I know a couple of my siblings were switched to a psychiatrist later on as well; maybe I’m just a late bloomer. Maybe my mood swings are related to more than just my being sad. It’s hard to know.

At least, that’s what I told myself before this guy entered my life and he’s scripted me a few different things so far without any results. I don’t like the way he pokes at me. I don’t like the way he asks certain questions about my behaviour and what I do in my free time. He doesn’t need that information to be able to script me things.

The moment I stepped into his office, my prepared and rehearsed speech went right out the window. There’s something about seeing him that makes my mind go blank so I just went, sat and we talked and I told him how I felt and how I didn’t think the medication was helping but he just told me to keep on taking it for a while longer but I’m tired of taking it.

Now I’m just sitting outside, shivering away because it’s cold and I’m waiting on the bus to pick me up. The session ran long and I missed the first coming of that bus. At least I only have about fifteen minutes left to wait before I can get on there. It’ll drop me close enough to the house that I’ll only have another five minutes’ walk. I’m tempted to drop off earlier so I could go and see Flynn but I promised Agathe I would come home as soon as I was done because there’s supposed to be a bit of a storm coming by later and she’d rather none of us are caught out in it if possible.

I have time on my hand, I’m chilled enough that it’s helping me to focus on something beyond the fact that this man makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin, as though somehow it’s my fault that I might be chemically imbalanced because at this point, what else could it be?

I’ll think, the bus will give me that much freedom. I need to tell Agathe because I feel like I might go crazy if I have to take these particular pills for much longer. They muddle me when I take them and once they wear off, it’s like I’m too much energy bundled up in a too-small container. It’s bursting at the seams and it’s seriously not helpful with school work or anything else. I don’t like it, I just don’t.

Hopefully, I manage to keep myself fluster free around Agathe though and I think I’ll manage. It’s not stressful to talk to her; she’s been there for us for most of my life.