Writerverse: Mini Table of DOOM! (Sweet and Sour)
More The Church and Its Orbs. Enjoy!
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“That has to the most dramatic pure mate auction I’ve ever attended,” Diana murmurs, smiling. “People will be talking about it for years to come.”
“I don’t relish being the subject of gossip,” I mutter, shuddering. “I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime.” After the orb throwing incident, people loved to talk about “that dangerous no soul girl,” and this will be no different, unfortunately.
“It’s not fun, is it?” Jocelyn says. She sits next to Diana on their couch -- they hold hands. I envy their easy affection, even in this repressive society.
My version of affection apparently consists of a public confession of love and secretly dosing my friend with almonds because she’s allergic to them -- all in order to get myself locked away at Harmony in order to look for Kai. Wren did get out of participating in the auction, and I swore I could see relief on her puffed-up face.
Brandon must have told her the confession was a lie by now -- at least, he thinks it’s a lie because I said as much. Of course, saying the confession was a lie was a lie in itself. He doesn’t, however, need to know that.
“That was quite brave of you,” Diana says, still smiling, though I see worry in her eyes.
Why does everyone keep calling me brave?
“Excuse me?” I mutter.
Jocelyn looks at Diana and then shakes her head. “I don’t know if I would have been able to do that for a girl who I suspected didn’t return my feelings,” she says.
“This is just going to ruin my already shaky friendship with Wren, isn’t it?” I say, looking at the ground.
“It’s possible,” Diana murmurs, “but you never know. Such things don’t always end badly.”
“How can it not end badly? Wren will have even less reason to associate with me if she thinks I’m some kind of deranged stalker with a crush,” I mutter, my stomach sinking.
Before I can sink too far into misery, the doorbell rings, playing the tune of a popular Tevarenese Church hymn. Holy music sound strange coming from a doorbell, and the ringing itself startles me, sending my heart racing. Who could that be? As far as I know, Diana and Jocelyn don’t expect any visitors. I half-worry it’s another Morality Check, with someone far less understanding than Officer Riley.
“Who could that be?” Jocelyn mutters. “We’re not expecting any visitors.”
That only adds fuel to my suspicions of a Morality Check or something worse.
“I’ll check to see who it is,” Diana murmurs, getting up and leaving the living room. I stay in my seat, seeing no reason to confront their visitor. Then, I worry the visitor wants to see me, though I’m not scheduled to go to Harmony for another week or so.
Time stretches to infinity as I wait for Diana to answer the door and see who her visitor is. My heart won’t stop racing, and I grip the sides of my armchair.
“It’s probably nothing,” Jocelyn says, though worry flickers in her eyes.
Diana pops her head around the door, an unreadable expression on her face. “Gemma? You -- you have a visitor,” she says.
My eyes widen, and my heart races yet faster. “What? For me?”
“Yes,” Diana says, nodding.
“H-hello?” It’s Wren.
She steps into the room, and I blink, not believing what I see. I keep blinking, and she doesn’t disappear. The person before me must be a hallucination, though, because Wren even looks something like her old self -- she wears one of her black and neon outfits. The bright and dark colors contrast with the decorations in Diana’s house. When I see the silver bracelet on her left wrist, I gasp -- it’s the one I gave her. Wren still has her hair extensions, but her clothes are exactly what she would have worn before getting her purple orb, plus the bracelet. I never imagined Wren post Testing Ceremony would wear a gift from a disgraced no soul like myself.
“Wren? Is that you?” I breathe.
Memories of my public confession flood my mind, and my face burns. Why in the name of darkest oblivion would Wren come here dressed like her old self after that? Brandon may have told her the confession was a lie, but she knows the danger of visiting me. A confession, even an ostensibly fake one, must have unnerved her, too.
“It’s me. I’m really here,” Wren
Jocelyn gets up from her seat. “We’ll leave you two girls alone to catch up, if you like,” she murmurs. Diana nods her agreement from the doorway.
“I’d like that,” Wren says. She wants to be alone with me?
“Uh, sure,” I mutter.
“Have a nice chat. We’ll be in the dining room, if you need anything,” Jocelyn says as she exits the room.
Once she and Diana disappear from the room, awkwardness descends. Wren stands there, not looking at me. I don’t blame her.
I don’t leave my armchair, but I gesture at the available seats. “You -- do you want to, uh, sit down?” I say.
Without saying a word, she walks over and takes a seat in the armchair next to mine. She crosses her arms and places them on the arm rest, leaning over to face me. My stomach flips as I turn to look at her. Dressed like that, she’s beautiful. Alright, Wren’s always beautiful, but she looks like herself ight now. I keep my hands on the inside of my chair. Tension fills the air, making breathing next to impossible.
“What -- what are you doing here?” I say.
“I -- wanted to see you,” Wren says. Her eyes shine, and her voice sounds sincere, but this makes no sense.
“I would think after that, I’d be the last person you wanted to see,” I say. My throat tries to close up, because I do want to see Wren, but there must be some kind of catch to her visit.
A strange expression crosses her face, and my stomach flips yet again. “Well, you’re wrong. And that took serious guts,” she says. “Even if it was...fake.”
Looking at her outfit yet again, I think Wren’s visit must have taken some guts itself. “And you dared to come here, dressed like that,” I say.
“I kinda had to,” she says, smiling.
I raise an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t. You know the risks -- you told me all about them. So why did you?” I mutter.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I seriously felt like I had to, though I’m not sure why I felt like that, only…”
“Only what?” I say. The air bends and twists, the very atmosphere shaking as I wait for Wren to speak.
“Was your confession -- was it...really fake? Or...did you -- did you...mean it?” she says, her voice not more than a whisper.
I choke, unable to get enough air. The world spins, and I have to grab the side of my armchair. “Do you -- really want to know?” I say.
“I do.”
I stare at the armrest of my chair, to avoid Wren’s eyes as they burn into me. “It was -- real,” I say. “I -- love you.”
She must suspect I do. I just can’t lie about it any more, even if Wren never wants to see me again because of it. Nerves taut, I even dare to look at her.
Wren’s eyes shine, and she points at herself. “Me? You love...me?”
My voice doesn’t want to work, so I just nod. The ordinary household lights fall on Wren in such a way she seems to glow, though that must be my imagination. Her lovely dark brown eyes shine, and her perfect features can’t even be real -- but they are.
“I...that’s…” Wren looks lost in her disbelief.
“A problem, I know,” I mutter, finding my voice as my stomach sinks to the floor. My love can’t be anything but a problem for us. It cuts me right to my heart, and I wonder why she had to come here and make me reveal it. Still, I lean on the side of the armchair closest to Wren, some invisible force pulling me to her.
Wren leans forward, too, closing the distance between us. I can’t breathe, and I don’t understand. Why is she doing that? Why isn’t she running away?
That distance between us shrinks and shrinks, until it’s gone. Our lips meet, and the world stops.
Warmth and shock flood my whole being, electrifying it. Wren feels like perfection as we kiss, her lips as soft as anything. This must be a dream.
Eons later, Wren pulls away, restarting the world and ending the dream. The last of the electrifying warmth leaves me as she stands up. “I -- I should get my bag and go,” she mutters.
Reality freezes me to my seat, and I can’t move, not even to tell her to stay. I know she can’t do that -- she’s a purple orb and not one to risk herself, this visit notwithstanding. She even has a boyfriend -- as much as that much might annoy me, I don’t actually want to come between her and Brandon.
Wren speeds out of the room, vanishing around the doorway. Tears spring to my eyes, and nothing makes any sense. Why did she do that? Why come here at all and give me a taste of what can never really be mine?
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“That has to the most dramatic pure mate auction I’ve ever attended,” Diana murmurs, smiling. “People will be talking about it for years to come.”
“I don’t relish being the subject of gossip,” I mutter, shuddering. “I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime.” After the orb throwing incident, people loved to talk about “that dangerous no soul girl,” and this will be no different, unfortunately.
“It’s not fun, is it?” Jocelyn says. She sits next to Diana on their couch -- they hold hands. I envy their easy affection, even in this repressive society.
My version of affection apparently consists of a public confession of love and secretly dosing my friend with almonds because she’s allergic to them -- all in order to get myself locked away at Harmony in order to look for Kai. Wren did get out of participating in the auction, and I swore I could see relief on her puffed-up face.
Brandon must have told her the confession was a lie by now -- at least, he thinks it’s a lie because I said as much. Of course, saying the confession was a lie was a lie in itself. He doesn’t, however, need to know that.
“That was quite brave of you,” Diana says, still smiling, though I see worry in her eyes.
Why does everyone keep calling me brave?
“Excuse me?” I mutter.
Jocelyn looks at Diana and then shakes her head. “I don’t know if I would have been able to do that for a girl who I suspected didn’t return my feelings,” she says.
“This is just going to ruin my already shaky friendship with Wren, isn’t it?” I say, looking at the ground.
“It’s possible,” Diana murmurs, “but you never know. Such things don’t always end badly.”
“How can it not end badly? Wren will have even less reason to associate with me if she thinks I’m some kind of deranged stalker with a crush,” I mutter, my stomach sinking.
Before I can sink too far into misery, the doorbell rings, playing the tune of a popular Tevarenese Church hymn. Holy music sound strange coming from a doorbell, and the ringing itself startles me, sending my heart racing. Who could that be? As far as I know, Diana and Jocelyn don’t expect any visitors. I half-worry it’s another Morality Check, with someone far less understanding than Officer Riley.
“Who could that be?” Jocelyn mutters. “We’re not expecting any visitors.”
That only adds fuel to my suspicions of a Morality Check or something worse.
“I’ll check to see who it is,” Diana murmurs, getting up and leaving the living room. I stay in my seat, seeing no reason to confront their visitor. Then, I worry the visitor wants to see me, though I’m not scheduled to go to Harmony for another week or so.
Time stretches to infinity as I wait for Diana to answer the door and see who her visitor is. My heart won’t stop racing, and I grip the sides of my armchair.
“It’s probably nothing,” Jocelyn says, though worry flickers in her eyes.
Diana pops her head around the door, an unreadable expression on her face. “Gemma? You -- you have a visitor,” she says.
My eyes widen, and my heart races yet faster. “What? For me?”
“Yes,” Diana says, nodding.
“H-hello?” It’s Wren.
She steps into the room, and I blink, not believing what I see. I keep blinking, and she doesn’t disappear. The person before me must be a hallucination, though, because Wren even looks something like her old self -- she wears one of her black and neon outfits. The bright and dark colors contrast with the decorations in Diana’s house. When I see the silver bracelet on her left wrist, I gasp -- it’s the one I gave her. Wren still has her hair extensions, but her clothes are exactly what she would have worn before getting her purple orb, plus the bracelet. I never imagined Wren post Testing Ceremony would wear a gift from a disgraced no soul like myself.
“Wren? Is that you?” I breathe.
Memories of my public confession flood my mind, and my face burns. Why in the name of darkest oblivion would Wren come here dressed like her old self after that? Brandon may have told her the confession was a lie, but she knows the danger of visiting me. A confession, even an ostensibly fake one, must have unnerved her, too.
“It’s me. I’m really here,” Wren
Jocelyn gets up from her seat. “We’ll leave you two girls alone to catch up, if you like,” she murmurs. Diana nods her agreement from the doorway.
“I’d like that,” Wren says. She wants to be alone with me?
“Uh, sure,” I mutter.
“Have a nice chat. We’ll be in the dining room, if you need anything,” Jocelyn says as she exits the room.
Once she and Diana disappear from the room, awkwardness descends. Wren stands there, not looking at me. I don’t blame her.
I don’t leave my armchair, but I gesture at the available seats. “You -- do you want to, uh, sit down?” I say.
Without saying a word, she walks over and takes a seat in the armchair next to mine. She crosses her arms and places them on the arm rest, leaning over to face me. My stomach flips as I turn to look at her. Dressed like that, she’s beautiful. Alright, Wren’s always beautiful, but she looks like herself ight now. I keep my hands on the inside of my chair. Tension fills the air, making breathing next to impossible.
“What -- what are you doing here?” I say.
“I -- wanted to see you,” Wren says. Her eyes shine, and her voice sounds sincere, but this makes no sense.
“I would think after that, I’d be the last person you wanted to see,” I say. My throat tries to close up, because I do want to see Wren, but there must be some kind of catch to her visit.
A strange expression crosses her face, and my stomach flips yet again. “Well, you’re wrong. And that took serious guts,” she says. “Even if it was...fake.”
Looking at her outfit yet again, I think Wren’s visit must have taken some guts itself. “And you dared to come here, dressed like that,” I say.
“I kinda had to,” she says, smiling.
I raise an eyebrow. “No, you didn’t. You know the risks -- you told me all about them. So why did you?” I mutter.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I seriously felt like I had to, though I’m not sure why I felt like that, only…”
“Only what?” I say. The air bends and twists, the very atmosphere shaking as I wait for Wren to speak.
“Was your confession -- was it...really fake? Or...did you -- did you...mean it?” she says, her voice not more than a whisper.
I choke, unable to get enough air. The world spins, and I have to grab the side of my armchair. “Do you -- really want to know?” I say.
“I do.”
I stare at the armrest of my chair, to avoid Wren’s eyes as they burn into me. “It was -- real,” I say. “I -- love you.”
She must suspect I do. I just can’t lie about it any more, even if Wren never wants to see me again because of it. Nerves taut, I even dare to look at her.
Wren’s eyes shine, and she points at herself. “Me? You love...me?”
My voice doesn’t want to work, so I just nod. The ordinary household lights fall on Wren in such a way she seems to glow, though that must be my imagination. Her lovely dark brown eyes shine, and her perfect features can’t even be real -- but they are.
“I...that’s…” Wren looks lost in her disbelief.
“A problem, I know,” I mutter, finding my voice as my stomach sinks to the floor. My love can’t be anything but a problem for us. It cuts me right to my heart, and I wonder why she had to come here and make me reveal it. Still, I lean on the side of the armchair closest to Wren, some invisible force pulling me to her.
Wren leans forward, too, closing the distance between us. I can’t breathe, and I don’t understand. Why is she doing that? Why isn’t she running away?
That distance between us shrinks and shrinks, until it’s gone. Our lips meet, and the world stops.
Warmth and shock flood my whole being, electrifying it. Wren feels like perfection as we kiss, her lips as soft as anything. This must be a dream.
Eons later, Wren pulls away, restarting the world and ending the dream. The last of the electrifying warmth leaves me as she stands up. “I -- I should get my bag and go,” she mutters.
Reality freezes me to my seat, and I can’t move, not even to tell her to stay. I know she can’t do that -- she’s a purple orb and not one to risk herself, this visit notwithstanding. She even has a boyfriend -- as much as that much might annoy me, I don’t actually want to come between her and Brandon.
Wren speeds out of the room, vanishing around the doorway. Tears spring to my eyes, and nothing makes any sense. Why did she do that? Why come here at all and give me a taste of what can never really be mine?