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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"><span style="font-size: 26px"><span style="font-family: 'Lobster Two'">Emmy</span></span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span style="font-family: 'Lobster Two'">Mid June 2022<br/>
Noon-ish<br/>
(direct) -&gt; Addy, Idris<br/>
(indirect) -- Tris</span></span><br/>
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<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'">Emmy twirled to and fro in the chair that Mother used to sit in long ago. The buzzing and circulating electricity of the <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fcdnb.artstation.com%2Fp%2Fassets%2Fimages%2Fimages%2F004%2F932%2F873%2Flarge%2Fmike-deas-roe-commandcenter-missioncontrolcolor01.jpg%3F1487293314&amp;hash=38ae2c9df1033cb777406391cda072d2" href="https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/004/932/873/large/mike-deas-roe-commandcenter-missioncontrolcolor01.jpg?1487293314" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Operations Room</a> filled her senses as she simply listened. Her eyes closed, and her mind clear. Her ears however were on ten. She could hear almost every conversation, every tone and nugget of inflection. Inhale. Exhale. She brought her soft and delicate hands to her temples, trying to stave off the infectious thoughts of animosity and derelict emotions. The echoing of footsteps pounded in her eardrums as she could hear and sense someone approaching. She'd already subconsciously readied her mind for a mental spat and quick witted comebacks to spar with whichever sibling was ready to express their disgust next. What she was met with however was a voice that made her break her focus and open her eyes. A silent titter escpaed Emmy's breath as she mildly cracked a smile at Red. Her badass sister, one that she often alluded to for willpower and battles of the gut and mind. Now here the redhead was, offering the coolest yet concerning entrance that she was so naturally good at. <br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"No. I don't want to hit you. I don't want to hit anyone."</span> Emmy says with a contrasted reaction that was a farcry from her usual moniker. She spoke now with the forbearance of an aged elder, the emotional maturity yet poignance displaying true. It would've been nice to hear Addy's supportive offerings of options a while ago, but she knew the truth that lie in her much like eevryone else. The one thing that Addy did possess that the other's didn't however, was chargeability. Addy was aware of what and who she was more times than not. It ironically helped Emmy to have the clarity she had in moments like these. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"I'm fine." </span><br/>
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<b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(226, 80, 65)">Look, I know there is nothing I can do to fix everything you've gone through...everything we've put you through... But if there's anything I can do to try, even just to support you in this moment, name it.</span></b><br/>
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Words that were both honey and thorns. Emmy just stared into her sister's eyes with a keen fondess, an unusual fondess that had a sort of sense of finality to it. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"There's nothing to be done."</span> Inhale. Exhale. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"You know you're the only one today aside from Tris who hasn't looked at me like I have a gun for a face?" </span>Emmy says with a slight chuckle.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "I hear their whispers, Addy. I know what they all think of me. How they see me. Tempermental. Domineering. Suffocating. Burden. Or worse... Pitiful." </span>Emmy stops twirling her chair. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"Four years is a long time to imprint projected feelings onto. But, I guess they have their entitlements. But... you wanna know what's funny?" </span><br/>
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Emmy laughs to herself at the magnitude of the realization. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"You know why I lashed out? Why I said the things that I said while I was trying to be the glue Mother wanted me to be? Why I tried to make the best of it even while I was suffering? It's because I <i>knew </i>they didn't want to be here. None of them did. I saw it long before I acted the way I did. They wore it on their face and body language like a glittery tuxedo. That's why--"</span> Emmy pauses for a moment. She could feel the emotions rising within her. A part of her pool she didn't want to acknowledge: pain. Trauma. She redirects her premise.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "You know I thought watching Mother die and then vanishing would be the worst part. But it wasn't. The worst part was just having lost your mother, and knowing that <i>inevitably </i>you were about to lose your siblings too. And I'm not referring to in death... I'm referring to in <i>seclusion</i>." </span><br/>
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Emmy bites down slightly on the cut on her lip, feeling the mild pain as she contemplated.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "No matter how right I did everything for years... how perfect I talked and said all the right things.. it never mattered. It was always too much, and I thought the whole point was to be too much in a world that cares <i>not enough</i>?"</span> Emmy's spunky and sassy nature was now met with something more refined and sharpened. Something only pain knew how to forge. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"I digress. The fact of the matter is Addy. They were scared to admit it. To me, to themselves, to one another. They wanted to leave long before I ever served as a reason to. They expected me to be Perfect Little Baby Gem, <i>souping </i>myself mentally to the point where I could remain stoic enough not to be a selfish, stubborn, melodramtic little diva." </span><br/>
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Emmy then meets Addy's eyes with the power of her penance gazing through them. A self-imposed torment just as much as any of the siblings had ever given her in addition.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "So I ask. What's worse? Staying here out of obligation and duty to something you felt would imprison your soul... bound to a suffering daily reminder of a wrenching pain? Or having a hurting, grieving, traumatized pissy teenager lash out at you because she knew that you were too scared to follow through on what you subconsciously wanted to do in the first place?"</span> Emmy puckers her lips at the rhetorical wisdom. <br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"So I'll be their blame. Their martyr for reason. Because they're cowards. Just like I am."</span> Tears formed in Emmy's eyes, but she'd relied on herself and sole responsibility of everything in the manor and Blockhouse for so long.. the vulnerability itself was irrelevant to her. So, she feigned those tears and only met Addy's gaze with more undaunted will. She did however shrug and offer a piece of the old baby gem. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"Besides, someone has to carry the stake of being the scapegoat. Isn't that always the baby?"</span> She says with a bright smile, though masked through feelings of forlorn. <br/>
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There was no need for Emmy to vent to Addy about how mad or sad she really was, because that was superficial-level things Addy and the rest of the family had already knew and seen. Those were the base level things that linked them all for better or worse. What was important to Emmy was that someone at least realize this wasn't the same 14 year old scared-but-capable girl from back them. She needed Addy to see the deeper thing that rested in her volcanic pit underneath, both graceful wisdom and weathered pain. Everyone had the luxury to run off and do whatever it was they pleased... but Emmy was forever bound to this place, and no one saw that. No one saw <i>her </i>anymore.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "So nah. Nothing to name. I was born into this world on my own. I started on my own. And after I fill everyone in on what I found... if they wish to return to their lives, I won't stop them. I'll continue to grow and manage on my own." </span>Emmy genuinely didn't mean to be so morose, but she knew that no one else saw what she did that night. No one else had the seared images of Mother and an assailant change their lives forever. <br/>
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The sadder reality was... these expressions Emmy released to Addy was only the <i><b>tip </b></i>of the volcano. And Emmy was terrified of what else was underneath. What else she may have to face if that volcano erupts. So as always, inhale.... exhale. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"I know you've been doing some good out there. I've been keeping tabs... heck, at least you text and call me sometimes..."</span> Emmy trails off for a split moment.  </span></span>​</div><br/>
<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'"><i>Just tell her Emmy... the truth. <br/>
Tell her how much it hurts. All of it. <br/>
No one even asked you to come along with them. <br/>
They found you so insufferable that they chose a life of the outside world instead of the only real family that could ever understand. <br/>
Tell her how that could make ANY sibling... no person feel.. just open your mouth, Emmy.<br/>
She needs... <b>they </b>need to know about the volcano. <br/>
The nights that feed the ghost stories behind this place. Your rage, your agony. Casted outward like a pulse of The Matrix. <br/>
And how you just want to see it all burn. <br/>
Actually.... fuck em. </i></span></span><br/>
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<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'">Right on cue, Idris enters in and looks at Emmy with that perfect posture and holier-than-thou disposition. The one that screamed she was a savior of all and protector of the unjust. How ironic that she was the blade of her own cause to nurture. Emmy had noticed her sister kept her distance, much like Emmy had tried with Iris earlier. But her older sister's next words sent a shiver down her spine of nerves and adrenaline. It was like everything and nothing was a trigger for Emmy now... maybe this was a bad idea, part two. Addy would be able to see from close distance the translucent energy surging under Emmy's skin, but not in retaliation or response. In fact, it was almost as if Emmy was keeping something <i>anchored </i>and at bay. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"Anger? No time for anger right now. And to be honest sis, after you're informed of what I need to inform everyone on, there's sure as shit not gonna be any time to sit and speak... rather that be you deciding to stay and help, or you choosing to leave again. So, if you'd like to join us and wait for everyone else then do so. If you still want to take in everything and see how well I've kept the place while you all have been gone that's fine too. Your choice. It's always been your choice hasn't it?" </span><br/>
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Emmy says before turning the chair around to a large monitor so she could work, her back facing both Addy and Idris now. More bruises could be seen on the nape of her neck leading down to her upper back. Emmy become momentarily ignorant to the room. She was working on having everything uploaded and stored for when all of The Nine were present and accounted for, and according to her ears... she definitely detected nine sets of footsteps and voices. Fuck. Or...yay? They were all here. Emmy's legs start to jump repeatedly to combat the nerves, her <i>souping </i>(Emmy's term for using her abilities to augment herself in some fashion) effects fading as she returns to normalcy from her hidden demons. </span></span><br/>
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