epilogue:megan_powell [Origin Story]

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=====Mags Powell=====


//how’d it go?//

//… not good. could have been worse, I guess.//

Mags can tell her parents care, but they’re scared, of the world and what it will do to her, and they don’t see that fear’s making it worse. Her mother’s annoyed that Mags registered without telling her. Annoyed at the chances she’ll miss. She doesn’t know how to explain it so they understand… she’d become so eloquent recently, but it seems like they’re not quite speaking the same language, any more.

Mar speaks her language, though. She’s glad he texted; she was putting contacting them off, trying to escape all the bad feelings that would come up when she dwelt on it again, but there’s a balance to be struck, and she’s getting better at striking it.

//I feel less… tied? less like there’s this big thing I’m putting off, that I need to keep flying away from? idk, maybe something will take its place. but I feel like I’m more running //towards// now. running with my feet on the ground, too? like I can be //me// more, whatever path I go down? idk.//

You’re not quite running it, but you are walking a path as you type.

//running towards me, right? xo//

//of course xx. only a few months now...//

They see each other all the time anyway, they’ll be seeing each other over the summer… but embarking on the next great adventure with Mar by her side will still be a change. UoC. She’s been looking into Professor Ortiz’s Sparked History class, urged on by Ada and mod-Marcus. With all the strange by-ways of lingering past she’s wandered, she thinks she could contribute some original research.

But first, navigating the strange by-ways of the Udarnik Centre cafeteria. Tight-packed people are not so predictable to wander through as tight-packed buildings, especially not while texting. Mags signs off.

//love you//

//love you//

(It doesn’t always need to shelter behind those totally-ironic //bby//s now.)

She takes a breath. Still not used to the crowd, part of her happy to just perch somewhere out of the way and eat most of the time. But there are good things about coming here too, sometimes. Her Udarnik friends (a phrase she’s only just got used to) welcome her, as she sits with her tray. Morphia and Marcus, who she’ll be meeting in dreams later. Az, embarking on the UoC quest by her side. Rachel, who she’s been going on walks with, pondering self-confidence and the desire to escape and avoid, and how to balance them.

The group gets a few glances. They always do. But with them, these people she found herself with, she can be herself. The self she’s so happy to have flown into by accident. The self who wants to make things better, and believes in the dream that they can be. Whose puns are of questionable quality, and whose haikus are not. Who helped Titania open up, helped the clock tower start ticking again; who’s made so many friends while convincing them to open up and accept help, accept themselves, and learned to do that herself in the process.
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