Louder Than Words

Chapter 2

My first impression of the Shack was how completely paralleled it was to my normal living arrangement. It was small, disorganized and chaotic. The living room was barren, and there was no color scheme. There were a few beaten down couches, one a bland evergreen and the other a tasteless burgundy, pushed against the wall to leave room for a circle of training mats. Mother would have had an entire conniption, I mused, high off the pleasant rebellion swirling around my mind.

He gestured vaguely to the corner of the room, where two mats had been shoved to face each other. For the first time, I noticed the couple. "Those are Maya and Blaise."

I was almost surprised to note that they both looked fairly normal, if somewhat buffer than the average teen. Blaise had abandoned his shirt in favor of low-resting sweatpants and white bands tight around his fists. Maya looked completely at ease as she dodged each of her opponent's simple approaches. She had several purple streaks in her long, flowy ebony hair and light freckles dusting across her nose and cheeks.

"She looks a bit like a mermaid, doesn't she?" He asked with a hint of amusement. His voice tickled my ear in a low whisper. I resisted the innate urge to shudder, and when I moved to face him I noticed his smug smirk, most definitely in response to my no-doubt utterly awestricken expression. "She thought dying her hair would be funny. Fit the stereotype, you know?"

"All she's missing is the seaweed," I said.

"She even has the Prince Charming."

I shifted my gaze to Blaise. He was clearly fit, with muscles taunting in every which way and eyes the shade of... was that ginger? He had his hair spiked in the same shade of black as his counterpart, minus his tips of red. I wondered if he had gotten it dyed the same time as her, and I imagined both of them sharing nervous laughs and poking fun at the other's new appearances. Or maybe they had just stared at each other in eager anticipation, anxious to fit inside these identities manufactured for them. I struggled to find my words, "Less Charming, more-".

"Hot?" The brown-eyed boy offered teasingly.

"Psh, of course not," I said, completely convincingly. Then paused. "Well."

"Well," he mocked, a smile tugging at his lips, "you're not exactly wrong. The whole fire manipulation thing, and all."

Made for each other.

Maya jerked back just as Blaise had set off a wall of literal flames between the both of them. She wrinkled her nose is obvious distaste, and in an instant her whole body had materialized into a dark blue wave. I watched on in morbid incredulity as the two elements collided, simmering away and leaving behind a frighteningly mundane scene of two teens merely holding hands and sharing goofy grins.

"Made for each other," I voiced, trying to shake myself from my engrossed daze. I felt more than saw my not-so-kidnapping kidnapper nod beside me.

He laid his hand on my shoulder and silently steered me towards another dim lit room. The counters and table top lead me to believe it was the kitchen, although I wasn't able to confirm this since said kidnapper, and now my apparent tour guide, had marched me straight through and towards another door.

"Is everyone here straight from a modeling gig," I had eventually muttered, allowing him to guide my now sulking self through the next door. I faintly wondered when his hand had slid down to my middle back.

He gave me one lingering, considering look, eyes glowing in mirth. After a brief pause he said, low as if it were a confession, "I wouldn't be talking if I were you."

I flushed, cocking an eyebrow, to which he shrugged in response to. The sun was now glaring and I realized those crunching sounds were twigs below my shoes. The short walk was violently deceiving, for we were now standing on the end of a wobbly porch and staring at the other side of the impossibly green forest.