"This isn't funny, Keefe, why are we in the same bed?" Sophie shrieked, her hair like a rat's nest on her head.
"I don't know, Foster, but why are we so grown up?" Keefe yelled back, his eyes wide as he felt his torso.
"Mom?" asked a little girl, s...
(title taken from troye sivan's too good because blue neighborhood is the (unofficial) soundtrack of snowbaz so why can't it be faviaran's too)
hello and welcome to yet another special! after the cliffhanger we just left you on, why don't we leave you hanging for even longer?!
that being said, please remember to vote and comment! thank you for reading, you guys are the best!
~anna brooks
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day, month, year, time is irrelevant from now on
Ciarán:
"It's three in the morning," I say, and I can't even see him because the sun isn't up yet. "Have you ever heard about something called sleep? It's supposed to help with your problems."
Nothing. Favian would normally be talking my head off by now, I've gotten used to nighttime meetings with him while I'm half-asleep. For now, though, it's quiet, which is a rare occurrence.
"Hello?" I ask. "Favian?"
Someone grabs me. I scream, but it's muffled because suddenly there's a cloth over my mouth and nose and the world is turning sharp and sweet. I can't help but draw in a startled breath, and that's all it takes for the drug to take hold. The world is dark, and Favian is not here.
I am alone.
Favian:
Good news first, is what the humans like to say. I've only got bad news, though, because 1. Foxfire started again and 2. I haven't seen Ciarán in days. I visited last week, but he wasn't there. I waited for hours for him, but he didn't show. Must've been out in the Forbidden Cities, getting supplies or something.
I haven't been back to the forest for a while, now. Level Four is significantly harder than Level Three, and I'm one of the three students in my Level who hasn't manifested, which means I'm stuck in Ability Detecting forever.
I think my family used to believe I'd still manifest. I know Mom still does. And Dad. And maybe Naomi, too. But I know better. I'm Talentless. I'm basically the lowest of low, according to the Council and the rest of the Lost Cities. And the whole elven world thinks it's normal. They think it's fair, because that's what they've been taught.
It's unfair and stupid, that's what it is. I understand where Ciarán is coming from. He and I are basically opposites. He's too powerful for them, and I'll never be enough. No matter what I do.
Maybe I could pretend I'm a Technopath. I'm smart enough for that, and I'm good with machines. Not like Dex Dizznee-level good, of course. But I could pretend.
Ciarán would tell me to be myself, that I don't need to pretend because I'm fine the way I am, because if the world can't accept me for me then that's the world's problem and not mine. And yet.
