I'M YOUR PUPPET; invincible

chapter 3

[act two; chapter three     -     a parents love]

    A knock on a window. A quiet rustle. A window opening and closing.

    Loren walked out of her bathroom, still running a brush through her wet hair. When she entered her bedroom, she stopped, body frozen in her doorway.

    "Mark?"

    His gaze snapped up, mouth dropping open as if he were about to speak. He lifted a hand in a wave, face scrunching. "Hey. So, um, sorry for breaking and entering."

    "What are you doing here? And why are you climbing through my window?"

    "I need you."

    Her expression softened. The wrinkle between her brows disappeared, as did the scrunch of her nose and the purse of her lips. She set her brush aside, smoothing a hand across her matching pajamas.

    "What do you need?" She asked. There was no question in her words or hesitation in her voice. Perhaps it was why Mark had come to her. Because he knew, no matter what it was, that Loren would be there. She always would.

    "I need to go to some planet to help them. And I need you to come with me."

    She nodded. Scanned her room for a moment, the furrow returning to her brows. "Okay," she murmured, as if deep in thought. "Okay. Give me a minute, I need to change."

    He nodded. Found himself sitting on the edge of her bed, hands pressing into each other. He allowed himself, for a moment, to look around. To take in this space that was entirely her own.

    Her bedframe was dark wood, while the duvet was cream. Her sheets, white and decorated with blue flowers, were complimented with yellow and blue pillows. All around the room, there were flowers. Photos, paintings, and flowers in a vase. Tulips and daisies, her favorite flowers. Two bookshelves, entirely full of colorful spines; littered with ceramic pieces.

    As his eyes flitted across the room, all he found were traces of Loren. So delicately placed and perfectly her. He could see the gentleness of her spirit throughout the softness of it, something that she so carefully protected from the rest of the world. A soft, gentle nature that so few would witness at her hands. But he could also see the rough edges. In the curve and grain of her bed frame, of the old bookshelves. He could see it in the ceramics and specks of navy blue throughout the entire space.

    But it was perfect. It was perfect because it was Loren.

    His gaze snapped up as she walked back into the room. Her suit, he realized, was different. Only slightly. The blue was darker, and her mask was different. It no longer covered her forehead, but rather sculpted the outer edges of her face, leaving the center open to the world. It still cuffed around her forehead, her short hair draping over the sides.