The Initials | Nanowrimo 2023

67| The Uprising And The Orphans

As the eldest of the Orphans, Alia is tasked with hosting the yearly anniversary of their family's founding. It's a task that she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy when just getting them all in one room is hell enough but she makes the effort each year regardless of the stress it puts on her shoulders.

If she could, she'd continue doing this for a million lifetimes over but she doubts that even then the pain and suffering her parents caused would be repaid.

She brushes through her red hair and throws on an outfit in under ten minutes, consistently avoiding looking at her reflection in any of the mirrors still left hanging around. She'd gotten rid of as many as she could but the ones left are bolted to the walls.

She spent so many years of her life being observed and probed that the thought of having eyes on her makes her skin crawl.

She puts her favourite hooped earring in and heads out the door, patiently waiting for the day that the memories of the experiments her parents masterminded don't hurt as much. So far she's going on ten years but they still sting like a fresh slap.

She only recently returned from a long summer of travelling from Capital to Capital a few days ago but already she dreams about going again, scribbling down a few places she'd like to go on her next break in her journal. However, for now, she considers keeping her travels a lot closer to home so that she can still keep up with her school work and keep an eye on the others.

Alia walks into the common room of their private dorm, doing a double take upon finding the others already waiting for her.

"Oh, you're already awake." she says, her eyes landing on the coffee table where a circle of the plastic blue mugs she bought for them last anniversary are huddled together. "Did you guys already eat?"

Joshia shakes his head, gulping down his tea, wiping away the spillage from his chin with the back of his hand, unknowingly smearing mud across his face. "No, I haven't, I was too busy in the gardens."

'I swear he swims in the stuff.' she thinks to herself, frowning at his muddy clothes and pinching the bridge of her nose when his earthy smell infiltrates her nostrils.

"Please, feed me!"

Alia peers down at the black girl sitting on the floor near the coffee table with vials filled with bubbly, vibrant, chemicals inside, shuddering once she dips her finger inside one and starts licking the same finger. "Isla I'll make you some real food, you know I've told you about doing that!"

"She's immune to poison, so what does it matter?" Sage yawns, squeezing her baby blue eyes shut. "I haven't eaten yet, but I was going to grab something at the library."

"What was that? You need to speak a bit louder, I can't hear you."

"Never mind." Sage grunts, lazily rolling her eyes as she scrapes her chalk white hair back into a ponytail, ignoring the free-falling strands in her face.

"And what about you?" Alia asks, turning to Arden who momentarily takes his eyes away from the piece of paper he is drawing on but he does not verbally reply. "You know your 'I'm going to stare at you until you feel uncomfortable' trick doesn't work on me."

Alia shrugs him off, knowing that is just how Arden is,taking her revenge when walking past him by ruffling his hair and escaping into the kitchen before he can retaliate.

Afterwards she slots four slices of bread into the toaster before opening up the fridge. "Anyone seen Elijah?"

"He's in his old room." Isla replies, strolling into the kitchen to help Alia by taking the butter out of her hand before fetching the plastic cutlery.