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It's so easy when it comes to using her powers.
While it's been months since she's done any sort of con and while she has nothing particular on the horizon, it feels strange not to be stretching her wings, so to speak, at least once in awhile. This is what she is, it's part of her very makeup, and there's nothing about being a siren that April has ever felt the need to apologize for. Anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with her, though the truth is she's just as likely to laugh in their face as she is to listen to any concerns they may have.
This is the way she'd been born and no one had been there to teach her how to use her powers. She had discovered them on her own and she knows she's lucky that she figured out how to use them. Surviving the foster care system might not have turned out quite so easy if she'd been without and while she hadn't been able to save every single exploited kid she'd come across, being able to do the things she can do had certainly helped here and there. It's not something she talks about with anyone, the things she'd seen across the various home she'd been placed in, the way some of the foster parents had treated the kids in their care, the abuse of all kinds. She keeps it to herself, but she hasn't forgotten any of it.
Children unsettle her. She never knows what to do about them and she's always been certain she doesn't want any of her own, but she's also never been able to stand a bully. When she sees the little boy being picked on, it's easy enough to send out little pieces of her power that carry with them the influence she usually only holds over the men whose money she's trying to steal. This time, though, she sends them to the much bigger boy picking on the little one and it's only a few seconds before he's turning away, before he starts to walk, then picks up speed, and runs straight into a lamp post.
It's not enough to cause any lasting damage, but it's enough to hurt and she doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty about it. Especially not when the little boy's tears seem to dry up all at once and he stares at his bully for a moment before the bigger boy runs away.
With a grin, she turns away from the scene and continues her afternoon walk down the boardwalk.
[Find April anywhere on the boardwalk. Feel free to have seen as much or as little of the scene with the bullying boy as you like.]
While it's been months since she's done any sort of con and while she has nothing particular on the horizon, it feels strange not to be stretching her wings, so to speak, at least once in awhile. This is what she is, it's part of her very makeup, and there's nothing about being a siren that April has ever felt the need to apologize for. Anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with her, though the truth is she's just as likely to laugh in their face as she is to listen to any concerns they may have.
This is the way she'd been born and no one had been there to teach her how to use her powers. She had discovered them on her own and she knows she's lucky that she figured out how to use them. Surviving the foster care system might not have turned out quite so easy if she'd been without and while she hadn't been able to save every single exploited kid she'd come across, being able to do the things she can do had certainly helped here and there. It's not something she talks about with anyone, the things she'd seen across the various home she'd been placed in, the way some of the foster parents had treated the kids in their care, the abuse of all kinds. She keeps it to herself, but she hasn't forgotten any of it.
Children unsettle her. She never knows what to do about them and she's always been certain she doesn't want any of her own, but she's also never been able to stand a bully. When she sees the little boy being picked on, it's easy enough to send out little pieces of her power that carry with them the influence she usually only holds over the men whose money she's trying to steal. This time, though, she sends them to the much bigger boy picking on the little one and it's only a few seconds before he's turning away, before he starts to walk, then picks up speed, and runs straight into a lamp post.
It's not enough to cause any lasting damage, but it's enough to hurt and she doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty about it. Especially not when the little boy's tears seem to dry up all at once and he stares at his bully for a moment before the bigger boy runs away.
With a grin, she turns away from the scene and continues her afternoon walk down the boardwalk.
[Find April anywhere on the boardwalk. Feel free to have seen as much or as little of the scene with the bullying boy as you like.]
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He chuckles. "Hereby that's going to be the obnoxiously stupid nickname I'm going to use for you. As my right as very probable oldest sibling and only cock in the hen house. You get one chance to ask for another one, but it might be worse."
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"But, oh, let's go for a new one. I'd like to see what you can come up with," she says, looking amused.
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"Fuck." Bach gave her a thorough look. "Goldilocks, of course. Can take on loads of bears while still looking like the virgin Mary. Or am I kicking up the wrong fairy tales now?"
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Living a good life. The kind April knows she'll never have. The kind she doesn't think she'll ever want.
Then she laughs and says, "No, I think that one works."
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"Hey, I should stop greying then."
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Why even go through all of that trouble when still leaving everyone in the end? Or did this simply spoke volumes about Bach and her womb trap?
"Guess we're really good at the sibling thing. Why not, for such a long time?"
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She wonders, though, if her sister knows what she is. If she's ever used it. She wonders what she's done with her life. Not enough to go looking, but every now and then April thinks about her.
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"Family, I've learned, abandons you, prefers getting high to raising you and fucks your boyfriend," she says with a laugh. "So, yes, I prefer staying out of it if I can help it."
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"Anyway. You're doing fine?"
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She also hasn't worked in six months and she doesn't know how to tell him what she does for a living, but that will come in time.
"Making this place work for me anyway," she says. "For the time being."
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Which, in her case, has always been relatively good. But she lies a lot.
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It's shit to ask, but Bach's going to do it anyway. "Can I come find you if I ..need to?"
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"I mean, I'm not always the most supportive, compassionate person, so if you're looking for hand holding, I might not be your best bet," she adds with a smile. "But I can kick your ass into shape if that's what you need."
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"Things are just so without ..a light at the end of the tunnel? I'm stuck in the fucking chorus, some ass kicking might prevent me from moping too much. And my favorite ass kicker is softly in love, she would lift a finger at me." Bach reconsidered. "Except for her middle one if she'd ever hear me say she was in love."