Home- A Fierrochase AU

Traumatic Backstory Time

MAGNUS POV (wild ik)

The rest of the day passed in a hurricane of people and introductions. Neither of which I was entirely happy about, but I couldn't ignore the inevitable awkwardness of introductions. I would've been happy about the end of the day, like many others, but I realized with a leaden heart that I had to return to the 'home', and spill my guts to Alex.

Somehow the idea of telling Alex my backstory wasn't as paralyzing as it should be. Something about Alex feels soothing, which is odd because she is filled with a sort of barely contained fire. Her eyes glow like embers, and her hair like green flames, yet it's almost to me like a big, quality bonfire. When you have a good campfire you know it. There's a feeling that there's almost nothing stopping it from consuming and destroying everything, and that's how you know you've got a good fire. Alex is like that. Nothing decides what she does except her own judgment, and has the ability to come in and destroy every thing for fun. 

I ponder all of this as I sit on the bus, going over bumps and stops, as snow falls in slow motion. It'll certainly be interesting to walk to The Overpass in this. Despite the cold outside, the bus is pretty warm, as Alex soon points out.

"God are they trying to make steamed high schooler? It's like a sauna in here," she wrinkles her nose. "And it smells like wet dog."

"I agree, but I don't understand why high schoolers would smell like wet fur when sweaty."

Alex shrugged and that seemed to be the end of our conversation for the moment. I think what was due to be said was weighing heavily on us. We finally got off on Sirius and Regulus, and didn't wait for the others to get off. The snow was a dusting thick and dry enough to crunch and compact as we walked down the sidewalk, our silence like the ice dangling from gutters. It was broken by me asking a question I had been wondering for days, but hadn't had the courage to ask until now.

"Why pink and green?"

"I'm not sure. I like them? Does it matter?" She asked.

"No I guess it doesn't."

"Why black and beige for you?" Alex smirked.

"I like them." I shrugged.

"Why? You know what? I know why. You're like a cross between an old man and an emo teenager stuck in the body of Kurt Cobain." I looked at Alex, who was looking straight ahead with an almost imperceptible smirk. For a second, I just stared, the snow still falling and our feet still moving until I burst into laughter. I laughed like I had the other day, which makes this the second time I've actually LAUGHED in 2 days. Soon, she is, too.

Her laugh is like everything else, wild and loud, the kind that doesn't care about offending others. It eventually dies down and Alex asks me the question I've been waiting for her to ask.

"So what's your plan, Bird Boi? Talk about it today, or tomorrow?"

"I'll tell you today, but only because I have somewhere I want to show you. We can stop by the home to drop off our stuff, then leave again. It's a little bit of a walk you may not want to do with stuff that shouldn't get wet." I explained.

"Ooh a dangerous proposition, Bird Boi."

"How?"

"Mrs. Bridgeton doesn't appreciate non-explicitly approved outings."

"Well, I guess too bad for her, then."

By the time our conversation had finished, we had reached the door. It was a fancy door, I noticed. All mahogany wood with a cast iron wolf knocker. Ugh, wolves. I hate wolves. Alex seemed to noticed my pause and said "Well open the door, then. Unless you've forgotten."