s*t*a*r*s 3 - pt 45

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s*t*a*r*s/J*A*D*E*S

             “We could fix it up,” says Abby, looking around the beach house.  The first floor is well off, the second and third story need work.  The outside porches hang on by a thread and some of the floor boards are giving way.  The walls are peeling, and there are places where the sheetrock is broken through, showing off the slat of the other walls.

            “Why is it in such bad shape?” asks Tegan, kicking aside some plaster that’s been torn off the walls.  The dust makes her wiggle her nose in distaste.

            “People came here, squatted I’m sure,” says Jayden.  “We stay on the first floor, and I’ll talk to Jo about getting it fixed.  Really, it’s a great place.”

            “And we live here?” asks Spencer quizzically to her girlfriend.

            “It doesn’t look like this in the visions,” whispers Rylee.  She reaches out and lets her fingers caress the walls. Her eyes backlit in red as she does.  “Who is Angelica?”

            Spencer grimaces.  “Bev’s kid.”

            “Mmmm,” says Rylee.  “You’re good with kids.”

            “Jesus,” mutters Spencer, stepping around Abby.  “What?”

            Abby gives Spencer a smile.  “I said we could fix it up, and I’m not kidding.”

            “Abs, now, I know you can change things,” begins Sydney.  “But this, this may well be beyond your capabilities.”

            Abby smirks.  She reaches out to the outer wall, her hand flat on the wall fingers splayed, concentrating.  A white purple color, not a deep purple like the one that comes from Spencer and Rylee’s contact, but a pale hot purple begins to spread from Abby’s fingers.  The busted walls begins to knit itself, ripples of purple color now cascades from floor to ceiling.  When it reaches the other wall, Abby pulls her hand away.

            “Wow, now I need a nap,” whispers Abby.

            “Son of a biscuit eater,” says Tegan.  “I feel wholly inadequate now, Abby, how on earth…”

            “Same way I do anything, it’s just bigger.” She sits down on the floor, taking in hard gasps of air.  She feels as if she’s run a marathon.  Her body is on fire but her mind, it’s clear, and everything seems to shimmer around her. 

            “And now you are so winded that if someone attacked you, you’d be at their mercy,” says Jayden.  Her arms cross over her chest, regarding Abby.  What the girl had done was impressive, but a waste of power.

            “You sound like Natalie,” says Sydney.  She disappears and a split second later reappears with a bottle of water for Abby.  “Here.  Jayden, really we can’t live our lives thinking we are a second away from death, right?”

            Jayden shrugs.  “No, I suppose you can’t.”

            “Wonder if I power you…,” muses Spencer.

            “You’ll do no such thing,” says Jayden.  “You can’t live your lives thinking that death is hot on your heels but you can’t do things more easily because you have your powers.  You can’t close doors or slow down time if you’re late for a date.”

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