(no subject)
Jubilee blearily made her way to her room after the rescue mission to the Guthries, physically and emotionally drained. It had been a while since she'd been in the field. Apparently too long, though she wasn't sure any amount of practice could have prepared her for such senseless, stupid hate. Again.
She shook her head to clear it as she let herself in. Too tired to bother with things like lights or changing, she moved blindly to her bed and flopped down on it.
Though wait. Since when did beds go crunch and feel sticky-gritty? Jubilee lit a tiny yellow paff and pulled some of whatever it was from under herself.
Immediately she was on her feet, brightly colored bursts of light illuminating the room. She felt sick, physically sick. Her bed was completely covered in drying blood and she was holding the charred remains of a photograph. One of Ev's eyes stared back at her, the rest of him burnt away. On the blankets, mixed with the tacky blood, were scattered ashes and bits and pieces of her past. Memories of people dead, including the crumbling remains of the only picture she still had of her parents. Ange was there too, the pictures of him she'd collected from before he'd 'died,' and the few more she had of Ev as well. Everyone she'd lost was there, burnt, bloody, and destroyed. Everyone. Destroyed. Again. All she had left, gone.
The fireworks flared brilliantly blinding, flooding Jubilee's bedroom and sending the door off its hinges before everything went dark again and she threw up violently.
She shook her head to clear it as she let herself in. Too tired to bother with things like lights or changing, she moved blindly to her bed and flopped down on it.
Though wait. Since when did beds go crunch and feel sticky-gritty? Jubilee lit a tiny yellow paff and pulled some of whatever it was from under herself.
Immediately she was on her feet, brightly colored bursts of light illuminating the room. She felt sick, physically sick. Her bed was completely covered in drying blood and she was holding the charred remains of a photograph. One of Ev's eyes stared back at her, the rest of him burnt away. On the blankets, mixed with the tacky blood, were scattered ashes and bits and pieces of her past. Memories of people dead, including the crumbling remains of the only picture she still had of her parents. Ange was there too, the pictures of him she'd collected from before he'd 'died,' and the few more she had of Ev as well. Everyone she'd lost was there, burnt, bloody, and destroyed. Everyone. Destroyed. Again. All she had left, gone.
The fireworks flared brilliantly blinding, flooding Jubilee's bedroom and sending the door off its hinges before everything went dark again and she threw up violently.