Deviant (A m/f omegaverse tale)

Weaving Webs

"Upstairs. Yes. While I was upstairs." Her voice was slightly slurred, and after a moment of pause where nothing further was given, Jazz gently waved her on. "I wasn't upstairs for long. No. The building went bang while I was juuuust getting to the third floor. And then there was Samael. He wasn't too pleased that I didn't stay and chat for long." At that, she genuinely did giggle, no longer a victim of the mind-numbing fear his displeasure had enticed. Jazz openly blanched at her nonchalance though, tanned skin taking an unhealthy parlor. 

"...And by Samael, you mean... The General?" This time, Jazz's voice was the one to waver, her throat constricting as she gave a rough swallow. All Deviant did, however, was lazily nod once more. 

"Oh yes. The General!" As if the title was enough to bring memories rushing back, she felt the masculine rumble of his growl tickle down her spine, pooling heat in her belly and licking at the insides of her thighs. She shifted subtly, ignorant towards the instinctive awareness she felt. "Yes. Sammy was already there when I reached the top floor." Her uninjured leg swayed back and forth from the raised platform, an almost childish motion terribly unfitting for the current situation. "He said some things and stuff, I wasn't really paying attention. But he did warn me not to leave." At that, she glanced about the white walls of the medical room, down along the boring tiled floor, before finally settling her gaze on Jazz once more. "So much for that, huh?" 

A drawn out stillness settled between the pair, Jazz's features pinched in concentration before she finally spoke. "And he didn't try to take you? He just... let you leave?" Disbelief rang out through the question, a clear reflection of doubt. 

"Oh no! No no." Finally wide-eyed, Deviant shook her head. "The explosion blew open the floor. There had to have been a solid fifteen feet separating us. That man looks like a beast, but I doubt any Imperion could've jumped such a distance." The admission seemed the relax the human alpha, whose shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh spilled from lips no longer painted. Unfortunately, the drugged omega was hardly capable of filtering her inner thoughts, and she followed up the comment with one that caused the blonde woman to stiffen once more, all potential for ease thoroughly obliterated. 

"I think he was waiting, Jazz. I think he was there for me..." 

~~~~~~~

Bed rest was a bitch. Deviant had never been content in small, confined spaces, and considering her room was furnished like a dorm, there wasn't much area to freely roam. Of course, the drugs helped ease any restless aches, and soothed her frayed nerves, but after a particularly colorful night terror, the omega threw all but the antibiotic medicines away. She didn't need vivid imagery of a certain stormy eyed villain wrapping his hand around her throat and threatening her with unspoken violence while fucking her subconscious. Not at all...  

But without the haze of intoxication, she was left with little choice but to face her own anxieties. And they were steadily building with each passing day. 

Jazz had been unreachable but for a few short seconds, ones spent giving constant reassurance that Deviant was, in fact, okay. That didn't halt the demand for a therapist though, something the human alpha required after her pink haired omega admitted the growing fear that Samael might've launched his attack for the sole purpose of getting Deviant within his grasp. It was such an off-base idea, and Jazz had no choice but to acknowledge it simply because no other figurehead had been targeted. Only the seemingly clueless, low-ranking omega.

So Deviant had gone to see a specialist each day since the incident, and damn if it hadn't made the girl feel even worse. Initially questioned towards her thoughts and feelings on the lose of close personal friends, she'd tried to act nonchalant about the whole affair. It was war, after all, and people died all the time. 

But then again, it wasn't that simple. 

Deviant couldn't help the guilt that threatened to spiral out of control, the impending sense of doom that stalked her mind every waking moment. And eventually, she told the therapist exactly that.