[Deleted]

WORDS: 351

TAGS: Mason Warner

Feeling the basketball's rugged, leather exterior under her fingertips and palms reminded her of home, of her dad, of all the games they played just outside of the garage to get away from whatever the day had brought them. The driveway hoop was the one place nothing bad could ever touch them. Nothing. Claire hadn't realized she'd just been softly smiling with nostalgia down at the ball and was shoved back into reality when it was stolen from her hands.

"Hey! Excuse you, that is so not fair!" she laughed after failing a mock anger, trying to move around to mirror where he was walking and facing. "Does a few tricks up your sleeve count as cheating? Because this is soooooooo-," when he shot, her head lifted and turned to follow it all the way to the hoop where it... failed miserably. "-fair. Okay, it's fair. Definitely after that," she teased him, jogging to the ball and catching it on a bounce.

"Is that how you guys shoot on the West Coast?" she asked, a mocking eyebrow angling upwards as she dribbled the ball casually back to the court where he'd been last. With a small leap back and front leg lifting a bit into the air, the ball left her hands and swished through the heavy threads of the hoop's net. Okay, she knew she could make the shot but the whole nothing-but-net was awesome luck. Playing it off purposefully, she put her a hand proudly to her hip and smiled in his general direction. "Free throw competition?"

A few steps led her to the basketball that hadn't strayed too far from under the backboard, picking it from the ground just to turn around and hold it out towards him. "I'll go easy, promise," a light, playful laugh trilled along with her words and she caught herself having to dim down her smile a little when she realized it probably looked stupid or goofy. It was just basketball in a dark apartment complex's ordinary concrete court. 

NOTES: Give it a shot (buh-duhm-ts).
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

Feeling a sudden pressure to represent the entirety of the west coast of the United States of America, Mason threw out a million excuses at once.

“I always preferred watching sport to playing, it’s been a while since I shot- I’ve not been in shape for a while… I was always more of a soccer guy, y’know?”

He laughed at himself, going quiet as Claire went to take her shot. He was curious to find out whether Claire’s skill level matched her enthusiasm. After she’d so viciously mocked his own attempt, Mason could safely assume that she wasn’t a stranger to the sport. He watched, first in hopeful silence, then awestruck glee, as the ball sailed through the air and dropped neatly through the hoop without so much as a rattle. Claire looked pleased, smiling into space somewhere to his right, and Mason whooped appreciatively.

“You don’t need to act so cool about it, LeBronosaurus Rex,” Mason chided. “What a shot! Own it!”

He strode across the court towards the ball, extended in Claire’s pale arms with a subtle air of majesty not usually afforded to abandoned basketballs in a quiet suburban park. “Challenge accepted!”

Claire then made a promise to go easy on him and Mason was about to crack into hearty, falsely mocking laughter when he recognised with a jolt how playful Claire had become. Her smile had stretched wide enough to let out a few pretty giggles and, though she self-consciously retracted it a moment later, Mason caught himself admiring the expression.

He smiled broadly back, wishing he could encourage it back into existence, but he knew that Claire would never be able to pick up on such cues until he could learn to control his power. Mason pushed at the field on his skin but it remained firmly, stubbornly in place. Still invisible.

“I’ll make you regret that promise,” he lied boldly.

Then he snatched the ball once more and bounced it back to a comfortable distance from the hoop, wondering idly whether or not Claire could see it each time it left his hands.

“Ready?”

He launched the ball, this time watching with satisfaction as it clattered against the backboard before sliding around the rim and dropping through the net. It wasn’t pretty – and honestly, it was probably one of the better shots Mason was likely to make this evening – but it was successful and he celebrated with the equivalent passion of making a winning shot on the buzzer.

Claire Elliot

414 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 372

TAGS: Mason Warner

It had been extremely awkward at first talking to an invisible man. Claire hadn't realized how much of communication involved reading the other person. Responses, reactions, thought processes; all of them were semi-dependent on the person she could only hear and not see. It was forcing her to be more genuinely her and less criticizing or filtered of how she acted - a public face or 'mask' having no choice but to chip away.

It was extremely uncomfortable when she'd first noticed it... but now, after concluding Mason had zero capacity to judge, it wasn't too scary.

"That's the worst name you've made so far. And that's saying something." During her teasing, low chuckle, the ball seemed to pull away from her hands by nothing and she gave the free throw line some room off to the side for a rebound. She shook her head with a smirk in response to his jest on regret, hands loosely on her hips, and she watched the rotation of the ball's spin as it headed to the basket. A few jumps around the rusted rim later and it fell through the net.

"Alright, alright, warming up. See?" she encouraged him, only needing to take a single, long stride to catch up with the ball and take a hold of it. One dribble, two, and then she stopped with a quizzical face at the small realization of something she'd just seen that she hadn't thought about immediately. "Hey... hold on. Take this again and dribble it?" she held it out in his general area, not wanting to pass it a yard away in case he had wandered from where the sound of his shoes against the pavement had last been.

Sure enough, after a few bounces, the top half of the ball disappeared the closer it got to his hand. "The ball," she pointed for a moment before stepping closer to see it. "Woah... It's going away. When your hand touches it, I mean." Her head turned around it to get a different angle, intrigued and curious. "I could see you hold things before. It's like it's stretching or... I don't know. Something. Are you doing something different?"

NOTES: Dat field tho.
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

Rude. Mason had been pretty pleased with ‘LeBronosaurus’. Claire really was a tricky lady to please.

At least she seemed almost-impressed with his shot. Maybe the encouragement was more out of pity than any real belief in Mason’s basketball skills, but he would take what he could get. It was clear that Claire enjoyed playing this role; offering reassurance in a soft, gentle manner. The role was something that his own mothers played equally well and he liked to think that he had inherited a smidge of it himself.

“Yeah that’s it, I probably just need to do a few stretches and I’ll be back to NBA standard in no time,” he laughed, watching as she dribbled with the ball. He quirked an eyebrow in confusion when she stopped suddenly, holding the ball out for him to collect.

He crossed the space between them and took the ball hesitantly from her hands. “Uh, okay? You don’t want to shoot?” Trying to break the confusion with a joke, Mason quipped, “I see my great prowess has intimidated you, Midwest!”

Still, he did as he was told and backed up, gently bouncing the ball up and down as he went.

He frowned at Claire’s comment.

“I’ve been able to make stuff I’m holding invisible before, I didn’t realise, is it not stretching the whole way?” He bounced it a few more times. It was so frustrating to be unable to tell exactly what was and wasn’t invisible.

Another test bounce. “I’m going to drop it and try to keep it invisible,” he decided suddenly. “Can you see it now?” He held the ball out in front of him.

If the ball had only been ‘going away’ rather than completely invisible, maybe the field didn’t quite have a life of its own after all and there was more to control than he’d initially thought. He concentrated on the shape of the ball and the weird, almost fuzzy feeling of his power, trying to picture the way the ball would fall and applying some kind of mental map to it. Just follow the ball, he commanded his subconscious. C’mon dude, it’ll be cool…

Then, he dropped it, watching as it rebounded a few times before settling neatly at his feet.

A second passed, Mason looked up hopefully at his observer. “Can you see it?”

Claire Elliot

390 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 386

TAGS: Mason Warner

Midwest. Now that wasn't too awful. Had a nice ring to it, actually, and she'd ironically thought about labeling him "West Coast" the next snarky comment she thought up to shoot his way when the opportunity presented itself. "No, I know, but it's... I don't know, it happens sooner. Almost like it's only partial or something," she tried to clarify.

Watching every dribble, Claire noticed that each time it touched his hand the field reacted just a bit differently. Its edge weren't geometric, but instead organic and active like they were moving or reaching out to the object in anticipation or magnetization. Like it was- "Subconscious," she mumbled to herself, watching the ball tumble to the ground and roll slowly along the pavement. At first, it was completely solid, but it seemed the both of them were holding out for something more and remained silent and still.

Then, the closer it came to him, she could see the slow wave-like edge of the field curve around the ball's surface. "Woah..." the word came out on a breath and Claire stepped forward to lean down and observe it more closely - fascinated and mesmerized by the phasing, orange material that seemed to bleed out of the air and leave nothing but the court below it behind.

"Mason, you've... you've got to see this," she shook her head and let out a heavy exhale with a smile. For once, she put a positive note on the effects of one of their powers, reaching to her back pocket for her phone to open the camera and record a few seconds of the seemingly whisping-away basketball. "It's not like an attachment or a skin on you," she shook her head, "It's more like a blanket. Or a sheet. Look at this," her face held onto the small sense of wonder and she stood to turn the phone in his direction after tapping the video's play button. "...It's incredible."

After it ended, she let the phone drop and took a step back with a short, airy laugh and looked down to the screen herself again. "Not bad, West Coast," her eyes returned up towards him, smile lifting on the side of her lips, "Not bad."

NOTES: Growing/discovering through late night hoops. Who'da thunk?
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

Watching the footage back was incredibly unnerving. Mason was reminded of that first time he’d realised that there was no reflection in Claire’s mirror, the complete cognitive dissonance that had taken shape. He knew he was standing there with a basketball at his feet, but Claire’s phone didn’t seem to have gotten the memo. It almost wasn’t a surprise any more not to see himself, but to see the ball fading out of existence was definitely weird to adjust to.

The aim had been to make the ball completely invisible without touching it and, although it hadn’t been a complete success, Mason had definitely affected it with his powers. It had been conscious, too, not something his power would have done naturally of its own accord. He was clearly beginning to tap into it. Beginning to understand his new ability. Control it, even.

“You think it’s incredible?” he asked, a little bashful. “It’s kinda weird, if you ask me.”

He knew his parents would be fascinated too. He couldn’t wait to show them the other side of it – so far they had just focused their efforts on minimising the burden and assuring him that he wasn’t some freak to keep their distance from. Being able to control it made it feel more like a gift, just like the others’ powers.

Claire returned to the light, playful smiling that kept persistently trickling through, and Mason was amused at the rebounded nicknaming.

“I can’t do it for long though,” he admitted, looking down. Without focusing his attention, the field had retracted back to its usual fuzzy state surrounding his body. Making any effort to bring the ball back into it just felt hard – it was some kind of mental fatigue barrier that he couldn’t cross until he’d gotten his breath back.

He shook himself, trying not to let the small hurdle ruin his elation. “Enough about me though, c’mon! Let’s see you do a trick shot! Something flashy,” he demanded. He wanted to see her really show off. She was normally so reserved – Mason was jumping on the opportunity to bring her out of her shell.

Claire Elliot

354 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 473

TAGS: Mason Warner

"You think it’s incredible?" Claire had been glued to the video on the phone while remaining next to him, watching the short clip over and over again to see the strange ebb-like movements of the field wrapping over the ball. "Huh? Yeah," she answered after pulling herself away, only to scrunch her mouth awkwardly at his response. "It’s kinda weird, if you ask me." Oh. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to go complimenting? After all, it wasn't exactly in her character recently when it came to these new side effects of theirs.

"Yeah but... could you do it at all before? Maybe it's getting stronger. Or maybe it's like a muscle or something. Something you have to keep pushing. I don't know," she shook her head to dismiss the idea quickly once she realized she was going on about it again, sliding the phone back into her jean pocket, and reached down for the ball to give it a few dribbles. Trick shot? A sideways, challenged smirk pulled up on her lips and she gave him a mock scoff.

Claire turned her head to look at the hoop again, its distance and angle, and walked to where she thought the three-point line might've been if there had been lines on the pavement. Like a free throw, it was all about repetition. You could make the same shot every time if you locked it into muscle memory. A few quiet beats of the basketball later and she gently bent her knees and sent the ball into a clean arc through the air. It hit the inside of the back of the rim, falling inside and down to bounce somewhere off into the grass by the court.

"Thank you, thank you," she bowed melodramatically, giggled in embarrassment, and rested her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Had to get some b-ball out of my system," her shoulders shrugged upwards against her neck with a kind and thankful smile, "didn't mean to disrupt the tour. Where to next? You said your folks had a good look at the beach behind the house right? Confession... I've never been on the beach in Cali." she breathed inwardly through her grit teeth, itching at the back of her neck and ready for teasing repercussion.

Normally the whole 'beach' idea wouldn't excite her or even cross her mind to suggest, but honestly she was beginning to notice how much sleepier she was than she thought from the day of travelling. It was near the house so maybe it could be their natural final stop with the sun having gone nearly down. Tomorrow was a whole new day full of time to do any other exploring or visiting Mason wanted to while they were here.

NOTES: Next stop?
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

That… actually made a lot of sense.

Claire had put the mechanism of his power on a level he could not only understand, but which brought him hope. Of course it needed to be built up in strength – pushed and torn to re-heal – just like a muscle. He could work with that. It seemed like even these minor displays of his power were enough to tire his power out for now, but maybe soon he’d be able to maintain the expanded field for longer, and maybe even stretch it further.

“You’re a genius,” he said proudly, slapping her on the back. “Of course, thanks.”

He realised a little too late that the sudden impact on her shoulder was probably more terrifying than it was comradely. Oops.

Fortunately he’d managed to avoid giving her a heart attack, and Claire proceeded to continue to show off her obvious basketball prowess. The girl was seriously coordinated – definitely more predisposed to hero work than one would first assume upon encountering the young art student. Either that or she had devoted her life to practising these same shots over and over to give the illusion of natural ability which… -yeah, Mason couldn’t quite see Claire putting down the sketchbook long enough to undergo a rigorous, lifelong basketball training regime.

“You sure it’s out of your system? Don’t want to go and quickly put together a team and take on the whole NBA? PQ and I will be the cheer squad.”

Alice would definitely have tried to hit him if she’d been present.

It didn’t take them long to reach the beach. Its vast stretch of sand was broken in half by the skinny little pier that had instantly charmed his parents when they’d first visited their potential new home. It was completely empty at this time, the gentle crash of waves their only company.

Mason slipped his shoes off and indulged for a moment in the feeling of cool, evening sand against his feet. He sighed, feeling unbelievably relaxed.

“Well, this is it. Whaddya think?”

He smiled across at her, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Claire Elliot

351 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 378

TAGS: Mason Warner

"A team? Who'd ever be worthy?" a trill of laughter barely waved through the quiet night from the basketball court, her sarcasm and horrible sass having reached a point where she couldn't take herself seriously enough to just not break out into a smile throughout nearly their whole walk to the beach. He was nice enough to oblige. No surprise from Mr.Kind.

When they'd arrived, the street lights kept their way visible now instead of the deep blues of the sky, a few lights from patios at the beach-bordering houses (one being his own, of course) and the lamps at the pier reflecting against the blackness of the water to separate it from the night sky. Surprisingly well-lit, the beach stretched out thinly for surely a couple of miles until curving off in a direction or maybe broken by a larger dock. There were a few public charcoal grills, fire pits, and thick wooden chairs built for the outdoors set in pairs every so often.

She was staring at everything - its perfectly arranged, ordinary beauty - for a strangely long time. "Well, this is it. Whaddya think?"  "Huh?" she finally snapped out of her trance and looked in his general direction before back towards the pier. "It's-" she shook her head and let her shoulders lift to drop them back down with the weight of her honest words, "Kind of perfect, really." Claire took a few steps forward and felt the awkward give of the sand beneath her shoes, looking down to see the strange sunken shapes she made. It only took a second to bend down and take them off, putting them by the pair she now saw separated from Mason.

"Lake Michigan's beach is huge and crowded with people all the time. Sailboats everywhere, angry seagulls." The opposite of this place. Quiet, calm, private, clean. "Just never thought to give a beach here a chance. Not in San Fran." The weather was perfect... not hot, not cold. "Did you grow up here?" she asked to the air, still glancing about. Everything - every angle, every shadow, every glare of an old bulb, every scent or movement of water - made her want to sketch like a madwoman.

NOTES: A pleasant surprise for the first-time beach goer .
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

A relieved sigh of relief made its way through Mason’s smile. He was so happy to see that the beach hadn’t disappointed Claire – he’d been fairly confident that it would impress her, as it did everyone who visited it, but seeing was believing. She followed his lead, removing her shoes and placing them beside his own, and he watched with fond amusement as she took it all in.

They had come at a good time. The beach was definitely less peaceful during the day. The nearby community was mostly older adults like his parents but that didn’t mean there was a complete lack of young families. With young families came excitable children, screaming and laughing as they indulged in the joy of a beach trip. Fortunately for Claire and Mason – who were clearly both seeking tranquillity at the moment – it was past those excitable children’s bedtime.

“Always kinda wanted to visit Lake Michigan,” Mason offered. “But uh, maybe I’ll go in the off-season. Furious birds have to take a break sometime too, right?”

He could definitely share in her distaste for angry seagulls.

“I like the beach down here more, San Francisco isn’t bad, but there’s a reason people like my parents retire to places like this instead.” Mason chuckled. “You’ve never even been to Baker Beach? Classic views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Seals too, occasionally. Always cute!” People were normally tempted by the prospect of seals. “Also sometimes nudists… but maybe not the most appealing aspect of the place – hope for a particularly foggy day, I guess. Just think of the views and the seals, they’re worth it.”

Mason was unsure at what point he became a salesman for Baker Beach, but at this point he was just rolling with it.

“Born and raised in San Francisco,” he said proudly. “It’s where my mom and dad met. I actually spent more time in Canada than I did in SoCal as a kid. So no, this isn’t a homecoming,” he said, a bittersweet tone to his voice. “It’s perfect for mom and Annie though, so I like it, but just because it reminds me of them.”

He trailed over to a nearby fire pit, nudging an abandoned (empty) packet of marshmallows balled up beside it with his foot.

“How rude – they could’ve at least saved some for us.”

Claire Elliot

389 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 444

TAGS: Mason Warner

"I'd definitely check out Navy Pier. Really good food trucks, music, and an awesome view," she nodded along with her explanation, walking over with him by following his voice to look over at the cute little dock that stretched peacefully in the shallow water. "No, but I've been meaning to go nearby, maybe sketch the bridge to fill the cliche," she huffed with amusement at the thought. She'd always had a habit of drawing away from old ideas, but the bridge just sounded too fun to experiment with. "Oooo, yeah," her face winced in sarcastic humor, "trying to cut back on my naked elderly couple sightings."

It was interesting to learn about his upbringing. He probably had dozens of stories to tell and it definitely didn't sound easy for a kid. Having a dad in the city, now having Annie. She wondered when his parents had separated and frowned internally at imagining a young, middle-school Mason hearing the news of a divorce. She hoped it hadn't happened as sadly as her mind was picturing. But he seemed to love Annie and his mother seemed awfully happy - so that always made things easier, she was sure. "Canada? Really? What's up there for you?" Maybe business? Or maybe he was a military brat. Wouldn't that be ironic.

She noticed the movement of the marshmallow bag nearby when his foot nudged it, turning towards the empty and died-down fire pit. "So selfish," Claire added in mock agreement. A bonfire would be perfect in a place like this - s'mores, maybe some hot dogs, a root beer. Paradise. Claire bent down to see the small logs they'd used, a few on top still having some flammable life in them. Her hand examined them and she imagined what they'd look like all lit in a calm flame. When the image  filled her mind, she felt a warm tingling at the back of her shoulder blade to remind her of-...

The first time it happened had been horrifying. Ever since she made absolutely sure she was able to control it for fear that it might get out of hand. "Hey, Mason?..." He'd trusted her with trying his hand at stretching the field surrounding him. The least she could do was get this off her chest to the one she'd grown to trust most in their fateful group. Her face turned serious, voice quiet, and she slowly moved to sit facing the fire pit along the soft sand with legs stretched out at her side. "I need to show you something. And... I don't want you to tell anyone. Not yet."

NOTES: More discoveriiiies.
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

He nodded enthusiastically. “Music! I can get behind that, so long as it’s our kind of thing,” Mason added, a touch of pride in his voice that he could include Claire as a fellow appreciator of the classics. He was sure anything she decided was good music, he would agree with. For the most part at least, her taste was eclectic enough to likely throw a few spanners in the works eventually.

“I’m sure you could do something to refresh that tired old cliché,” he said encouragingly, genuinely meaning every word. “Maybe the secret is not to cut back on naked old people… but to incorporate them!”

Or… maybe not, actually. Well- who was Mason to declare what should and shouldn’t be art?

It felt strange that Claire knew so little of his past; they’d have to rectify that, starting now. “Well my dad moved away after the divorce, ended up on Vancouver Island. My moms have raised me since I was …three? But I spent most of my summers up there visiting him. It was nice,” he said fondly. “I was twelve when he… y’know. So I haven’t been back in a while, but I plan on making the trip some day!”

His voice had caught a little. Did one ever truly get past the loss of a parent? It had been over two decades and he still grieved. If only his father could see the man he had become – surely he’d have approved, but Mason would never know. Cancer had stolen that chance.

A master in the art of distracting himself from his thoughts, Mason quickly moved onto the fire pit. He was just wondering if they should search for discarded lighters when Claire’s hesitant tone snatched his focus. “Yeah?” Mason moved quickly, dropping down into the sand beside her with enough care not to cover her in sand, and with just enough momentum that she should notice his presence.

His eyes widened, face serious. “I swear, you can trust me. Not a soul. What’s wrong?” He frowned, trying to pull clues from her face. “Are you okay?”

She needed to show him something? From her tone of voice, it probably wasn’t an embarrassing tattoo. Although the thought highly amused Mason, deep, deep down below the grave concern for his friend. Teehee, terrible tats.

Claire Elliot

386 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 511

TAGS: Mason Warner

Hearing the story of Mason's upbringing was both insightful and sad. She wanted to frown and say how sorry she was, but she knew that it was probably the last thing someone in that kind of situation wanted. But when he mentioned his father at the age of twelve in an extremely familiar vague description that pushed away from the subject, Claire felt a pang of knowing sympathy. "I'm sorry, Mason." She couldn't not say it. She felt a tug to tell him about her mother, to comfort him by saying that she knew exactly what it was like, but it felt selfish. Not to mention she'd never felt comfortable telling anyone let alone explaining it.

When she felt the ground rumble with his weight beside her, sand shifting between them, she instinctively looked over at the now-black sky decorated with distant, tiny stars that shone through him. If there was one damn time she needed to see him it was now; to feel grounded, to feel safer. A humorless, hushed laugh came from her at his last question. "Who knows anymore?" her head shook and she looked back towards the pit. "I think so. I just-," she took a deep breath in and the exhale dropped her shoulders with a heaviness that painfully displayed her forceful attempt at readying herself, "-don't know how to handle this I guess."

She'd asked herself first if Mason would be frightened of her, but realized over their trip how silly such a thought was. Not Mason, not to her. Even if he was, he probably wouldn't say anything but how everything would be okay even if he wasn't certain that it would be. "...Okay," the whisper came slowly between her lips to the crisp air, her left hand lifting from her lap to cup loosely in front of her mouth. Claire shut her eyes, relaxed her breathing, and pictured the quiet flames again. The ink on her back grew from a subtle warmth to a steady flow of lively heat and glowed a vibrant enough orange to show dimly below the cotton fabric of her jacket. The next breath that passed along her palm ignited almost sleepily in the air and swam around her skin - a small stream of flame that seemed content to stay the size it'd been given as it danced patiently along her fingers.

After a heavy, stubbornly nervous swallow, she reached out her right hand to feel for his arm instinctively until she could trace down to his hand. She needed something, anything, to ground her here for just this moment. Her left hand, unburnt and unharmed, reached over the logs and set gently along them until the fire lit them before giving it a few shakes to extinguish whatever embers remained around her skin. It retreated quietly back to her lap, her other still holding his a bit tighter than she realized, and she remained staring at the newly lit campfire with rigidity - all nerves and uncertainty.

NOTES: Trust.
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY

[Mason Warner]

Are We There Yet?

Claire’s sympathy was well-delivered – no prying, no gasp or tears on his behalf. It was more of an acceptance and gentle acknowledgement of Mason’s loss, but nothing more. He was relieved, really, but not surprised. Claire was obviously a good judge of these situations and, even though her own father was very much still alive, had that intuitive understanding that discussing it further would have just ruined the moment.

It was a nice moment. Just the two of them, the sea and the stars.

More tense now that Claire was building herself up to… something, but still not inherently unpleasant. Mason’s concern was rising as she drew out an empty laugh, her eyes cast down towards the fire pit.

“That’s okay, we can handle it together,” he offered.

It was probably a useless promise – Mason didn’t even know what it was that Claire was worrying about yet – but he meant every word to the best of his ability. That he was sure of.

“Okay,” he echoed, watching her hesitantly.

The eyes fluttered shut, hand placed strangely before her face. Mason frowned in confusion, just about to ask her if she was okay, when a sudden glow in the darkness caught his eye. The orange glow was weak, but definitely stemming from beneath Claire’s jacket – just where her tattoo was. He’d seen it glow before, but only blue. Was this something new?

A new brightness in the dark.

Flame.

Mason resisted the urge to jump back from the fire, frozen in shock as it coiled itself around Claire’s hand. Her other reached for him, and he guided it towards his own hand to grasp it firmly. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. It was awe-inspiring really – Mason was just never going to get over the exciting mysticism of superpowers.

As the fire burned before them, Claire’s hand became tighter on his, and Mason realised he should probably say something.

“It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “Magic tattoo strikes again.”

He grinned suddenly, struck by inspiration to raise the mood. Yet another terrible nickname suggestion. He felt his invisibility shift to bring Claire in as he spoke.

“That’s some enchanted picture on your skin, Ink.”

He awaited a dismissive eyeroll, his grin fading as the invisible field strained and snapped back into place around him. The fatigue was worth her seeing the mischief on his face, he was sure.

Claire Elliot

397 words

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[Deleted]

WORDS: 383

TAGS: Mason Warner

"That’s okay, we can handle it together." It was things like this that he said that made her look back at the crash and think... maybe it hadn't been all bad. There was a silver lining - thin as paper but bright as the sun. Ironic, considering this star just happened to be invisible. His calm demeanor and encouraging, quiet hand squeeze was just what she'd needed to steady herself and make her terrifying new discovery a little less terrifying. In fact, her muted worries of scaring him off had completely diminished the second he voiced his opinion.

"It's beautiful." She felt the air leave her lungs and her head turned to him in a grateful, awe-inspired disbelief. It'd taken her a few tries days ago before she didn't spatter either random, unstable embers or a much more potent stream than she'd meant to, but Claire felt like she was getting some kind of grip on it. She hadn't dared tested it beyond her own hand or beside the shower to quickly douse accidents. A swallow helped ease the lump in her throat and she felt the tiniest prick of moisture at the corner of her eye. Stupid tear. "Yeah," she responded shakily, offering him an incredibly thankful half-smile.

Then, she saw his face. Her eyes immediately refocused to where she could now see his, making contact with a breath of relief. It'd been forever since she'd seen him. His goofy smile, his animated eyebrows, the creases at the corners of his eyes when he grinned. Mason had sure figured out how to comfort her without having said a word as to what she desperately needed. Unaware that she'd been anywhere but - distant in her head with stress and what-ifs - he brought her back to earth.

Another famous Mason-dubbed title quipped out, but rather than scoff or give her usual look, she dared to let the tiny smile grow just a little larger, leaning her forehead forward against the side of his shoulder as his visibility left once more. "That one's not too bad," she dryly teased, shutting her eyes and taking a deep, calming and cleansing breath as the newly-lit fire warmed her folded legs. "...Thanks Mason."

NOTES: N/A...just feels. x.x
WEARING: Here.

＃ENY ADOXOGRAPHY