fail by design

Mirabel's Search

When Camilo first heard that Mirabel was acting weird, he sincerely hoped it was just some elaborate prank and that he didn't hear her muttering to Casita about Bruno. Obviously he was correct, and heard his prima asking the one person she never should've asked: Pepa. Overhearing the vile that his mother spewed at his cousin nearly made him sick. He quickly made his way downstairs, easily pretending to be fine, and praying to all god that Mirabel left the topic of Bruno alone after that.

But nothing ever really went his way, and she asked him.

He tried his best to dissuade her, pulling his best Nightmare-Bruno imitation yet, regaling her with stories of a seven-foot man, creepy and hunched over, covered in rats. He forced his voice to become gravelly, telling her that this horrid man could say your name before cursing you into unconsciousness, how this monster of a man could see into dreams and send nightmares, that his diet consisted of the screams of his victims, like some frightening demon.

When Mirabel left him, he was met with Dolores' disappointing stare, and prepared himself for an oncoming lecture.

"Camilo, how dare you say such things about Tío Bruno! He was a nice man, you should know better!" She had nearly perfected her mamá's look, and he held back a snort of amusement.

"I'd have to actually know the man to "know better"," he shot back, despising himself for enjoying the brief look of panic on her face. "He left when I was five, hermana. What do you expect from a performer like me?"

He sent her a quick wink and grin before making his way back to his room.

There, he made his way once again to the mirrors, shifted into Normal-Bruno, before bursting into tears.

"Lo siento, papá. Lo siento. I know you're not like that. You've never been like that. I'm sorry."

Despite barely being able to see, Camilo dragged himself to a stack of prop boxes, throwing them all aside without care until he reached a locked box, inserting a key he kept in on a hidden necklace.

It was there that he broke down even harder.

All that laid inside were a few bound notebooks, broken paints, and a single, green cloth.

The same green cloth that he was given for his fifth birthday. A ruana that was much too big at the time, but now seemed to barely fit. Nonetheless, he ripped off his gold ruana, before attempting to curl up beneath the old, faded green one. It was dusty, covered in moth balls, but it was the last piece he had left. It left the scent of family. A whole family.

And there was only one member left of said family.

A single figure attempting to muffle sobs into a cloth with faded figures. In a half-daze, Camilo managed to find black paint, using his tears in an attempt to revive broken memories before painting black hourglasses on either side of each chameleon.

A futile attempt to bring a dead father to a heartbroken son.

As previous attempts would show, it would fail once again.

Emotionally exhausted, Camilo got up on shaky legs before shoving everything back into the box, stacking more on top of it as it became hidden from view once again.

"Óye, Mariano's on his way!"

Rubbing his face dry, he shrugged on his normal outfit and headed to his door. Game time.

__

This was really all Mirabel's fault. She couldn't leave well-enough alone, and now Luisa was crying somewhere, Isabella was furious, Mamá was thundering and the rest of the adults were nowhere to be found.

So he did the responsible son thing, made a pot of tea, and made his way to his parents bedroom in a practiced fashion. His mamá's hair was frizzing up, the electrical storm above her head increasing as her panic rose. He made his way in front of her, holding the tea out as an offering before working her through breathing exercises.

"It's okay, Mamí. Deep breath in, deep breath out-" Startled by Casita banging on the wall, Pepa screamed and watched in horror, as a bolt of her lightning managed to strike him right in the face. Camilo barely avoided smashing glass as he rapidly switched between forms, pain increasing with every shift before he felt the burning tea splash on his back as it was knocked off the dresser shattered on the ground.

"Aye, cariño, are you okay? Camilo, are you hurt? Camilo, can you hear me?" The shrill scream of his mamá made its way through the shock reverberating through his skull; every bone felt like it was on fire, and combined with stretching his skin during rapid shifting made it so much worse.

Finally grasping hold of his shifts, Camilo was able to stop, and reverted back to leading his mamá through more calming techniques.

And another round.

And another round.

Camilo soon lost count of how many times they'd gone through the task, before they heard screaming from outside and an odd sensation running through his veins.

Instinctively he bolted for the door, sparing only a moment to scream at Pepa to grab Antonio, and run.

Sprinting through the upper level, he spotted Mirabel making her way up, Casita assisting her to reach a rapidly deteriorating candle as their home fell apart.

He couldn't let his cousin get hurt. His form began to rapidly shift as he lost control over his gift, trying his best to reach her. But, of course, right at the last minute his gift finally lost the battle, plummeting him down to her floors, spraining his wrist on falling planks before landing on his hands and knees. He barely managed to grasp Isabella's arm before Casita made her final move: throwing every last Madrigal out of their only home, and protecting the only one who never had a gift.