Chapter Text
Listen, it wasn’t that she necessarily liked stealing.
Alright, maybe she did, a little bit. She wouldn’t have done it, otherwise, she supposed; she didn’t need to steal anything to survive, not truly.
Mostly, it all watered-down to her wanting to feel something, enjoying the rush of adrenaline coursing through her as she made her escape without being noticed.
Sometimes, she even brought some of the food or other items she managed to snatch to different homeless shelters, in sort of a Robin Hood-wannabe fashion.
On the other hand, finding something even remotely edible in the fridge of the family she was staying with always appeared to be an arduous task. She could barely believe how disgustingly terrible the foster-care system was at running background checks on the families looking to take in a child.
Or perhaps, they didn’t bother anymore, not for her, not knowing she had never stayed with a family for long and it was already a miracle someone would be willing to foster a full-grown sixteen years old. Most families preferred younger children, one that possibly wouldn’t leave them by the time they turned eighteen.
She had learned a long time before, back when she was still hopeful someone could truly accept her and love her, in her childish naivety, that it was better not to get attached to anyone or anything, because it wouldn’t last.
She’d been born to be alone and she had accepted it. She couldn’t wait to be alone; she couldn’t wait until she was allowed to be alone and could stop pretending to try and be likeable. The ending was always the same, either way.
She thoroughly enjoyed the rush of adrenaline she got when she managed to escape without being noticed but she did not like the different kind of adrenaline that came with getting caught in the act.
Especially when it’d probably mean getting dragged back from where she’d come from (though she imagined it wouldn’t have been such a horrible thing, at the moment).
Dashing out of the convenience store, she’d shoved everything she could in her pockets, without caring much if anything fell out, as she’d already been noticed; she hoped the hood pulled over her head would have made it more difficult to identify her, though it would hardly matter if she got caught.
She security guard chasing after her didn’t seem particularly inclined on letting her get away with it, as he was still running somewhere behind her, throwing every kind of insult at her, while she desperately searched for a way to flee.
She considered climbing over a fence and into someone’s back garden, but she had learned it could be rather dangerous, if she found herself having to face a raging dog; she still had a scar from the bite she’d received years before, when she was still inexperienced.
Soon enough, she found herself approaching the road and realised there was a damn car stopped in front of a traffic light, in the middle of her path and, while she did have a little bit of advantage, going around it could have made her lose it.
She might as well have used it to her advantage, she thought, promptly ignoring the fact that getting into a stranger’s car might have been the stupidest idea she’d ever had.
Facing the consequence of getting caught might have not been any better; she wasn’t all that certain her foster father wasn’t going to beat the hell out of her for stealing.
Here goes nothing. Hastily, she opened the door, thankfully finding it unlocked, and leaped inside, closing it behind her. Sending a glance towards the driver, she locked eyes with a boy that concerningly looked about her age; it appeared she might have found an equally rebellious teen, though she didn’t linger on that thought for long, as she was slightly preoccupied with the security guard still chasing her.
“I’m being followed by a weirdo,” she exclaimed, completely out of breath and the boy merely blinked at her, in a rather dense fashion. Annoyingly, she noted he had a set of beautiful green eyes, a deep colour she doubted she’d ever seen before.
“Come on, go!” she continued, worriedly looking out the window. Realising she was being rude towards a guy that could be her salvation, she added a rather desperate: “Please?” but it appeared that what awaken him from the stupor he’d collapsed into was the muffled yelling of the guard, fast approaching them.
She wasn’t quite sure the traffic light had turned green when he started the car again, zooming away in way that made her suspiciously certain he was going over the limit.
Despite the insane and rather ridiculous situation she was in, Sylvie found herself sighing a breath of relief, as the security guard disappeared in the distance, rather cartoonishly shaking a fist towards her. She couldn’t guarantee she wasn’t going to die that night, but perhaps it was better than facing her current family.
“Why is he even chasing you?” the boy asked, something akin panic in his voice, as he kept driving without a specific destination.
She considered telling the truth, but she was slowly starting to realise how nice of a car she was in; frankly, it was definitely too nice for the neighbourhood they were in, which made way for a thousand more questions she didn’t want to bother asking. Either way, she refused to tell the truth.
“I don’t know,” her voice escaped her lips a little too harshly and, from the way the boy looked at her from the rearview mirror, she could tell he wasn’t particularly persuaded. Better to say part of the truth, she supposed.
“I think he believes I’ve stolen something. But I haven’t—” she barely managed to finish the sentence, as the car took such an abrupt turn she almost slammed against the front seats.
She was going to die.
She was definitely going to die.
“Do you even have a licence?” she screamed through her teeth, pushing herself back into her seat.
The boy even had the audacity to appear surprised by her question, as if he wasn’t driving like a completely drunk donkey.
“Yes!” that was definitely a no. He must have caught her unconvinced look, because he apparently found the need to continue. “I mean, almost. Does that count?” it most certainly didn’t.
God, she had gotten into that car to avoid getting taken to a police station, but at that point she was sure she’d directly end up at the morgue.
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips and she banged her head against the seat in front of her. She was a complete idiot. Of course, it was a horrible idea to hitchhike a ride with a complete stranger; at least, she should have checked how old he was before crashing inside. How she had managed to run into someone doing something illegal while doing something illegal was beyond her.
“No, it doesn’t count!” in his defence, he actually appeared slightly apologetic for putting her in such a situation; though it didn’t make much sense, since it was a situation she’d willing put herself into.
A second later, he pretty much ran a red light, with a small yelp.
“I’m in so much trouble—” he said, mostly to himself, taking yet another sharp turn.
She was beginning to doubt he knew where they were going, and he was driving in circle around the block. It was rather incredible that he’d been nonchalantly driving around with no licence and hadn’t been caught, considering he was a rather horrible driver.
Maybe it was the panic. Judging by the way he was holding onto the steering while like it were his lifeline, she couldn’t discard that concept.
When the distinct sound of a police car approaching reached her ears, she couldn’t exactly claim she was surprised; he might have almost run over a pedestrian, a while before.
The rather irreverent smile he threw her way, on the other hand, was surprising. He’d been gritting his teeth, appearing rather terrified until a second ago, before getting caught. Almost like doing something rebellious in the spotlight was exciting.
Oh, he was completely nuts. The words he half-yelled at her only seemed to confirm it.
“Hey, at least if we die, we’ll die together,” what a riveting prospect; she couldn’t have asked for anything better.
To die with a boy she didn’t even know, who (judging from the car he was driving) was nothing more than a bored, spoiled, rich kid. Probably the worst kind of person.
“You’re so weird,” she sounded tired and she was, the words muffled, as she had buried her face into her hands. He had the audacity to chuckle at that. They might as well have crashed, right then.
It would have been less miserable than being dragged to the police station and having to go through the mortifying experience of explaining to the officers that she didn’t exactly have parents to call and the only responsible person in her life was her social worker, who she was certain hated her guts, considering she had never kept a family for more than a couple years (she’d been in the current one for barely six months) and had to be dragged back to where she’d come from every time.
She could have lived alone had she had anyone willing to financially support her, but she didn’t. Tough luck.
Before long, the police car which had been chasing them dashed past them, stopping diagonally in front of them and, though she had almost feared he’d drive right into them, the strange boy was forced to stop.
She couldn’t have stopped the scream that erupted from her lips even if she’d wanted to and the boy almost appeared amused by that.
That was going to be a long night.
₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
She’d been rhythmically beating her foot against the floor for what felt like an eternity, and the exhausted-looking police officer standing beside her looked about ready to murder her for that.
Well, it wasn’t exactly her fault that she was nervous. That simple heist had turned into a train wreck really quickly, mostly because of her poor life choices. Not the stealing part, the getting into the car with a boy she was certain was insane, by that point.
He’d almost seemed as satisfied as a cat which had managed to snatch some cream when they’d been caught; she’d thought he’d been concerned, when he’d claimed he was in trouble, but she was beginning to think he’d been happy about it. For some unfathomable reason.
He’d been talking with the chief officer for a while, gesticulating wildly, almost like he was a lawyer supporting a cause and not a teenage boy with clear suicidal tendencies. He had not stopped being weird for a second.
When they’d been dragged out of his car, he’d immediately started spewing nonsense she’d barely registered, but that hadn’t been the strange part of it, as he appeared to enjoy hearing himself talk (he was yet to shut up).
No, the curious thing had been the way he’d looked at her, when the officer had, rather harshly, pulled her hood down, revealing the mess her long black hair had turned into, in the rush to escape.
He’d almost seemed—mesmerized, though she wouldn’t have been able to say why, exactly. A few times after, she’d caught him sending her glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. In all fairness, perhaps she’d done the same.
Though she had quickly figured out he was annoying as hell, she certainly couldn’t pretend he wasn’t cute. Maybe cute wasn’t exactly the right word, but he wasn’t too shabby.
She’d already noted his green eyes (which had a blue undertone; and she was sure they had golden speckles scattered around, though she had not been close enough to him to truly discern them), which matched his rather unruly black hair splendidly; he was tall and a little lanky, and it made it seem like he was towering over her, though she was hardly short. And maybe, maybe, his irreverent smile was a little, the tiniest bit, attractive, for how irritating it was.
But it was hardly a thought she’d had the time to linger on, as they’d been driven there and, the first face she’d seen as they walked in, had been the one of the security guard she’d been trying to flee from all along. He’d immediately frantically pointed at her, before rushing over and retrieving the stolen goods from the pockets of her sweater. Everything the police officer had done was sigh.
After some rounds of interrogation (nothing she wasn’t used to), the boy had demanded an audience with the chief, yelling something about who his father was or something, in a very spoiled, rich kid who could get out of trouble with daddy’s money fashion; the police officer questioning him had blanched, the words the boy was saying clearly resonating with him.
She didn’t have that luck, which meant she’d been dragged to a chair in a corner of the room, while they tried to contact her social worker, though it’d proved harder than it would have been had it not been two in the morning, by that time.
Time was flowing extremely slowly, and the clock on the opposite wall was painted with such an obnoxious orange she refused to look at it for longer than it was needed.
She was beginning to wonder whether she would have had to spend the entire night in those musty police station. Not that it wasn’t something that hadn’t happened before, but she hadn’t particularly enjoyed the experience and wouldn’t like to repeat it; she’d begun her endeavours when she was still extremely young and had figured that, since no family was ever going to keep her anyway, it was better to give them a reason to give her up. Slightly depressing, but better than the alternative.
She wasn’t quite certain why it had never worked out for her, why even the most apparently loving families had decided not to keep her; it wasn’t by any means easy to have the possibility to adopt a child.
Of course, she supposed she’d always been a difficult girl, who wouldn’t try and befriend the children already in the family, who didn’t speak overly much and was aggressive at her best.
It was still a thought that stung, the knowledge that she’d never be good enough for anyone. That she’d be alone forever.
She snapped out of her rather depressing thoughts when a roaring, commanding voice reached her ears from just outside the doors of the office; oh, there went daddy dearest, it appeared.
In fact, a second later, an aging man with the poshest suit she’d ever seen stormed through the door, followed by a stressed-looking agent, who seemed just about ready to bend down to the floor and kiss his own shoes in an apologetic manner.
The man sent her a rather acerbic look, like he’d been told in exactly what predicament his son had found himself and was somehow blaming her for dragging him into trouble.
She had, because the boy wouldn’t have been caught had she not rushed into his car, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d already been doing something illegal, which meant he was rebellious in his own accord.
Refusing to shrink under his gaze, she slightly raised her chin, crossing her arms over her chest; he by far wasn’t the first rich guy to look at her like the dirt they walked on, and she wasn’t going to let herself be treated that way.
Fuck classism, honestly.
She was in luck, as the stand-off didn’t last very long: the officer pointed the man towards the chief’s office and his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the boy, a flash of something akin disappointment crossing them.
Perhaps he wasn’t all that forgiving and willing to believe everything his son said; still, she didn’t doubt daddy’s money was going to bail him out of any trouble he could have found himself in, more out of shame than out of care.
When the boy noticed the presence of his father, all the air of confidence he had sported before disappeared, replaced by an ashen expression and he seemed smaller, younger, scared. She almost (almost) felt bad for him.
Either way, it didn’t take long for the man to convince the chief officer to let him go without much of a fuss, even slapping what she was certain was a blank check on the desk; she couldn’t imagine how privileged of a life one could lead with that much money, though she was getting a glimpse of it.
Finally reaching an agreement, the man quite literally grabbed the strange boy by an ear, dragging him out towards the door rather mercilessly, making it evident the whole ordeal wasn’t going to pass with no consequences.
The boy was clearly gritting his teeth, though she wouldn’t have been able to say whether it was in anger or pain; but when he locked eyes with her, something peculiarly softened in his gaze and he mouthed something quite similar to you okay? in her direction, as if she were the one being dragged out by the ear.
Not finding it in herself to answer, she merely shrugged. He frowned, but he didn’t have the time to say anything more, as his father dropped him and then pushed him unceremoniously out the exit, refusing to even acknowledge the presence of other people, almost as if he couldn’t believe he’d found himself along plebeians.
Sylvie sighed a breath of relief, because she had feared she could have gotten sued or something as such; she was glad she was never going to see that boy again.
Her alleviation was short lived, as the door opened again a second later and her social worker walked through. Although the bags under her eyes clearly signalled she’d been dragged out of bed at an unholy hour, she was still the most well-dressed and professional person she’d ever seen.
Upon seeing her, she merely sighed and tiredly walked towards the chief’s office. She was out in no time and she motioned for her to follow.
After walking outside, she stopped in the parking lot, hands on her hips, and sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught her in such a situation; she rubbed a hand over her eyes and turned to look at her.
“What happened this time, Sylvie?” shoving her arms into the front-pocket of her sweatshirt, the girl shook her head.
“The stupid family you’ve found me has an empty fridge,” she was perfectly aware of the bitterness in her tone, and she knew Ravonna was doing her best (it was hardly her fault if the families turned out to be a scam), but it was difficult not to give her some blame and feel some resentment.
They’d been at it for a decade, and she was still wandering like a lost soul, thrown like a hot-potato from family to family.
Ravonna merely stared for a second, but didn’t say a thing, before seemingly coming to a decision.
“I have an offer, if you’ll take it. I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while and you’re almost eighteen, anyway—” it was a day she’d been counting down for what felt like an eternity, when she wouldn’t have to be tied down anymore and could try to find a life for herself.
“You could come live with me, at least for your last year of high school,” that was certainly not an offer she’d been expecting. In all fairness, she’d always been under the impression that Ravonna didn’t like her particularly much; it probably all had to do with the fact that she’d been the first kid whose case she’d followed and, at the same time, her very first failure (and, as she’d understood rather quickly, that woman didn’t enjoy failing).
It must have been even more irritating to know that, lately, she’d been purposefully trying to be sent back, in some part, because the few families taking the adoption of a teenager into consideration weren’t all that great, and in some other because she didn’t want to bother being tied down somewhere when she had every intention of leaving as soon as she could.
Though the offer came as a surprise, she couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued. Ravonna was someone she’d known her whole life and she knew she’d never strive to adopt her, merely giving her a place to stay until she could live on her own; at the same time, she supposed it’d be easier to keep an eye on her.
She must have had a rather shell-shocked look on her face, as the woman continued listing some of her condition, taking for granted she giving the offer some consideration.
“But you have to promise to keep good grades so you can keep your level. You’re a smart kid, Sylvie, and I would hate to see you ruin your life over a rebellious phase,” she was clearly believing every single word she was speaking and it left her quite divided between confusion and pride, because she wasn’t one to give compliments, usually.
And she had to admit that, though she had begun putting a little less work in it the last few weeks, she’d always been studying hard, knowing that was the only chance she had to escape the system and to give herself a decent life. Keeping good grades despite her struggles had always been something she was proud of and she knew she couldn’t lose it, not when she wanted to try and go to college.
The more she considered it, the more she realised that the offer Ravonna was putting forward wasn’t all that insane. Actually, it would have been insane to turn it down, though she knew it’d mean having to live with that family a little bit longer, at least until she finished the school year.
She imagined that’d mean working after school, but she could manage. It’d be better than stealing, she supposed; without the adrenaline rush. At the very least, she wouldn’t risk dying because she’d gotten into the wrong car.
She sighed.
“Okay,” she merely said and Ravonna genuinely seemed surprised she had agreed without putting on a fight. She was known for being quite stubborn, after all. But she hadn’t seen the reason to be, in that moment, not when that seemed like the best-case scenario.
Though she knew Ravonna was going to keep a close eye on her the whole time, the prospect of living with her felt like the thing dangerously closer to freedom she’d ever experienced.
Definitely the beginning of a different life.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Hello! Welcome back :) Sorry for disappearing for more than a month, having a full-time job is stressful, ugh.
First of all, I wanted to thank all the people who commented, left a kudos or simply read my story. I appreciate every single one of you very much.
There's a little bit of a time jump from the first chapter and we finally get into the high school and theatre part of the story, meeting the other characters (and the cast of our play; let's see if you can guess who's gonna be which character!)
I removed the side couples from the tags because I felt there were too many but, don't worry, they're still in here! Hunter B-15/Hunter C-20, Valkyrie/Carol, Bruce/Thor and a past Loki/Original Male Character.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy this second chapter! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Not to sound like the stereotypical beginning of an American coming of age movie, starting with a thorough description of the school, but the building had something almost sinister about it; perhaps, it all to do with the fact it was as fancy as possible.
When Ravonna had suggested she go live with her and had promised to find her an even better school, that was definitely not what she’d been expecting.
It turned out that, though being a social worker was hardly the most profitable job in the world, she had inherited quite a large sum of money from both her parents and her deceased husband (she hadn’t even known she’d had a husband). And that had been enough to enrol her in a private college in probably the poshest town in the entirety of the States, with houses that looked straight out of Architectural Digest littered all around, belonging to the richest of them all; apparently, they belonged in that category, as their house was insane, with a driveway and a pool in the backyard.
Sylvie didn’t think she’d ever felt more out of place than she did in Asgard, but she had to push through, because she was genuinely glad, she’d been given such a chance; that was going to look wonderful in her curriculum.
Though she had to admit the clothes she’d bought to pretend she’d always been as rich as everyone else were extremely uncomfortable, and she was convinced they made her appear rather stupid.
Ravonna had offered to drive her for the day (yes, the house was so far from the actual school she’d have to either walk or take the bus to reach the school in time), and had just dropped her off, leaving her to stare at the school with what was certainly a flabbergasted expression: it was an imposing building with arches and white columns and all the such, making her wonder whether she’d accidentally ended up in Ancient Greece.
She was uncertain how long she’d been standing there, half-heartedly listening to all the chaos around her, parents sending their kids off and friends chatting the early morning away. She was perfectly aware that people were observing her, mostly because they were probably wondering why they’d never seen her before, but some were already snickering, picking out all her imperfections and all the ways she didn’t fit.
For starters, she had chopped her hair short a while before and had dyed it blond, but she knew the roots had started to show a long time before, though she had decided she didn’t hate the look; she imagined they’d have something against her nose piercing as well.
Not that she’d ever cared what people thought of her, but it was still highly irritating how judgy people were, especially those with money.
When a greeting was thrown her way, it took her a while to understand they’d indeed been talking to her and to turn around. She found herself face to face with a petite girl with natural red hair and face painted with freckles, smiling gently at her, making it rather clear she had been addressing her; there was no trace of malice in her soft blue eyes.
“Hi! You’re a new student, aren’t you?” she had to suppress the urge to rather harshly bite back that it was obvious, and remind herself she was trying to be nice; though small talks and making friends had never been her forte. She was hardly the only new student on the premise, though the first-year students only had class in the afternoon that day; in that perspective, she supposed she stuck out like a sore-thumb. Unsure what else to say, she resorted to reciprocating the smile. At least the girl seemed nice, and not as douchey as she’s imagined everyone there would have been, especially the moment they figured out she didn’t come from money as the rest of them did.
“Indeed. I’m Sylvie,” the girl’s smile got even bigger, if that was even possible. Though she’d almost expected she’d extend her hand for her to shake (she had no idea what those rich kids did), she thankfully didn’t. That would have been awkward and overly formal for their age.
“Nice to meet you! I’m Sigyn,” she sounded overly peppy and lively for eight in the morning, but she imagined some people were just like that. She was also extremely friendly, which she didn’t necessarily like in a person, but it was better than the alternative. “Come, I’ll show you around,” the other girl said and, before she had the time to retort anything, interlocked her arm with hers, dragging her along.
Sylvie genuinely began to fear she’d accidentally become a rich girl’s pet, but tried not to overthink it. Perhaps, she was merely excited to help out a fellow student.
They walked inside and Sigyn kept blabbing about a thousand different kinds of topics, pointing at a thousand different things as they passed by. She was only half-listening, lost in the bougieness of everything around her; it almost felt weird to soil the marble floor with her steps. It took her a while to understand Sigyn had asked her a question.
“So, where did you transfer from?” ah, there it was, the long-awaited and long-feared question. She imagined it would have given anyone there a heart-attack to know she’d come from a public school, though, from what she could tell, the only difference between a public and a private school was that the second was expensive.
“I’m from Timeford,” it was highly probable the girl had no clue where that god-forsaken town was, which played to her advantage. But, for some reason, the candid curiosity in her eyes made her want to be honest, which was definitely a first; she’d long before learned some things are better kept.
“Nowhere nearly as expensive as this school, anyway. I’m not that rich,” she shrugged, to indicate it didn’t matter much. And yes, she hadn’t exactly said the truth, because that would have been that she wasn’t rich at all, but she hadn’t told a lie either.
Sigyn’s expression didn’t even falter, as she nodded, seemingly genuinely interested, though it was evident she indeed didn’t know her old town. She barely acknowledged the fact; perhaps, it was embarrassing not to know something, to them.
“Oh! And where do you live? You know, perhaps we could ride together to school in the morning,” though she had not specified where they’d be taking a ride together, she was suspecting it didn’t involve any buses. At the same time, it was nice of her to ask, in an attempt to show her she was interested in being her friend.
“Bifröst Lane. Seven, I think,” those words had barely left her mouth, when Sigyn stopped still and turned in her direction, lightly tightening the hold on her arm, looking like she’d just told her the most insane news of her life, her mouth actually falling slightly agape.
“And you say you’re not that rich,” she said once she finally snapped out of it, though her voice was ever so slightly choked. “Your neighbours are the literal Odinsons and you say you’re not that rich,” now, she’d completely lost her and it must have shown on her face, because Sigyn looked like she was on the verge of fainting. Whatever this was about, she wasn’t sure she liked it; she didn’t want to be associated with any popular person there.
“Oh my god, you don’t know who they are. I mean, no, that’s fair. But they’re the richest people in town,” great. Absolutely fucking great. Now she was going to be in everyone’s lens, if everyone thought she was as rich as humanly possible.
“And their sons are rather famous in the own merit, over here. The oldest graduated last year and he’s in university, but the youngest is in our year,” this time, it appeared she was trying her best not to blush.
Sylvie sent a not-particularly-subtle glance in her direction, a little amused by her reaction and Sigyn answered her question before she could even ask it.
“No, I don’t have a crush on him!” the way she stumbled over her words as she said it didn’t exactly work in her favour. “I mean, I did, at some point, but I’m over it and now, I’m purely embarrassed because I think everyone believes I still have it and they won’t let me live,” had she not stopped talking right then, she would have suffocated. Sylvie laughed, softly.
“Okay, okay, I believe you,” the other girl appeared relieved and begun walking once more like nothing had ever happened.
“Anyway,” her voice was a little strained, still, but she decided to ignore it. “Are you planning on joining any extracurricular activity?” in truth, she’d had no intention of doing so, until Ravonna had practically forced her to do one, claiming it would have been good for her, to be included into the community of the school she’d chosen and create a social group she could rely on in the following years of her studies.
She’d chosen theatre, in the end. She was certain she was going to be horrible at it, which would have meant getting a minimal role and having to put in as little effort as she possibly could. Doubted she was any good, anyway.
Slowly, she nodded, fearing she had accidentally made a friend she couldn’t get rid of easily; it wasn’t anything she had done, truly, but she had learned long before that it wasn’t good to get attached to people, not when she wasn’t meant to stay anywhere.
“Theatre,” she simply answered and, judging by the smile that opened on Sigyn’s face, she truly was stuck with her. At the very least she was nice.
“Me too! I guarantee you’re gonna love it; our little club is pretty great,” she genuinely appeared enthusiastic about the whole thing, which made her doubt she’d made the right choice; perhaps, she had imagined a squalid little thing with barely any funds or talent, but she had forgotten she was submerged into the most lavish richness possible, which probably meant no one ever took things lightly. In the end, it appeared there would have been some work to put in.
“The first meeting is tonight after class and, after that, it’s every Thursday evening,” Sigyn continued, sounding like an explanatory pamphlet for the school, hitting her with information she had already long learned, though she couldn’t find the courage to stop her, seeing how excited she was about it.
She was so caught up in everything the other girl was telling her she didn’t notice someone freezing in the middle of the hallway like they’d just seen a ghost and didn’t feel the weight of someone’s eyes on her. Not even as they kept staring at her.
₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
Sylvie had arrived in the school theatre (something definitely well-kept and thought out but, surprisingly, not extremely fancy like the rest of the school; she’d half expected to walk into La Scala of Milan) a while before, promptly deciding to skip break so she could avoid socialising; she had grown tired of small talks for the day, thank you very much.
Some other students had begun walking through the doors, some looking extremely at ease and knowing exactly where to go, while others hung around in small groups towards the back.
They were all giving her dirty looks for the way she was sitting, with her feet propped up on the seat in front of her, but she didn’t pay it much mind; they’d already singled her out, immediately understanding she couldn’t possibly belong to the same class as they did, which meant she’d decided to let rumours run and not give a shit about what people thought of her. She was never going to see any of them again in a few months.
Her peace was broken when Sigyn rushed through the door, dragging along another girl, who had her long red hair tied into a braid. Oh no. It appeared she was soon to have another friend forced upon her.
It’d become evident quite soon that Sigyn had decided to take her under her wing and there was no doubt she was never going to leave her alone. It wasn’t that she minded that much, because she was actually a pretty interesting person, but she would have preferred choosing her own friends. But it seemed that, at least for those two, it was fate which had chosen for her (or misfortune).
Sigyn immediately introduced the other girl as her best friend Freya, also a member of the theatrical club. It turned out both of them were huge gossips who knew a little too much about everyone else in the school, apparently out of sheer boredom.
In the space of a few minutes, Sylvie already knew much more than she’d ever planned on learning on everyone who had filled into the room and the whole of the theatre club on the whole.
At the end of the previous year, it’d been decided that the play chosen for the current year would have been a dramatic interpretation of a classic of English literature, and the students had been allowed to vote on the site for the two weeks preceding the beginning of the academic year.
The voting was secret, and that initial meeting was mostly to learn what the majority had chosen and to get to know the newly-added members, before beginning actual rehearsal for the performance that would have been put on by the end of the second semester. And, whatever, she was fine with everything, considering she was going to strive for the most unimportant role of all.
Then, as for the people present in the room, mentioned not in order of importance but appearance, they had (there were so many people Sylvie only remembered those who had either felt important or whose gossip had been so interesting slash so utterly ridiculous she’d had no choice but to retain that information):
Professor Mobius, apparently a very nice guy who’d get more and more anxious and grumpy as the year progressed, stressed out because of the final performance; he’d always try to convince the students to include a jet ski in every piece, though most of them were set in the far past (way before jet skis were invented, in case that wasn’t clear), but he was always sweet (sometimes even too much) and would bring the cast so many pies they’d grow tired of it by the third week (mostly key lime pie; the girls decided to bet on the flavour of the pie currently hidden inside the paper box of a nearby bakery on the unused desk).
Brad Wolfe, a rather mediocre actor who thought he was Oscar-worthy, who’d aim for the most important role and get ultimately stuck with the most annoying character; judging by the way he was seemingly trying to flirt with one of the girls sitting in one of the front rows, she could tell he wasn’t only annoying on stage and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. From what she was told, he'd been apparently caught photoshopping himself in movie posters and attempting to get the guys at the local cinema to display them to make himself look better with chicks.
The girl he was poorly trying to seduce was Darcy, who was sort of the comedic-relief person in the cast and lived by it every single day, always with a funny joke up her sleeves, especially in the tensest moments of the production; she was known for always having tea and always being open to discuss it, in the most supportive ways (legend had it that she’d comically, as a joke, stolen and crashed the car of her best friend’s ex-boyfriend on the rebound and had made out with the poor front-desk intern of the police station to escape; Sylvie couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the girl, from those rumours).
She was also apparently a huge flirt, though Brad’s borderline creepy advances definitely did not interest her one bit; she seemed to be amicably locked into a coy crossfire with the blond boy sitting beside her.
The latter, whose name was Fandral, had his arm around her shoulders and everything, twirling a strand of her hair with his finger. To complete the trio, he was known for being a heartbreaker, though he had apparently never broken a single heart, taken in consideration everyone knew that fact; it was quite unclear who had started the rumour in the first place (bets were on Brad). People speculated on whether him and Darcy were an item, but no one had ever come to a definite conclusion.
One girl was sitting in the second row and observing the scene in front of her with the upmost disgust: her name was Sif and she was in the clique of friends of the Odinsons, along with Fandral, while the rest of them had already moved onto university; she did not appear happy to be there, at all.
Apparently, she’d had the hugest crush on the oldest Odison (Thor) and had merely joined the club because his previous girlfriend (who also happened to be Darcy’s best friend—hold on) had been in multiple clubs and he’d believed that so impressive she’d had to double down and had gotten herself rather stuck for the year. But those were merely voices circulating in the hallways and no one had ever dared try to ask her about it. Mostly because was a pretty good actress and that definitely could not be denied.
There were Verity and Chinenye, who she was told could appear rather bitchy from an outsider, as they mostly stuck together and weren’t overly social, but merely preferred to stay on the sidelines without ever getting into too much drama and get the cast back on track when too much drama indeed happened, always the voice of reason.
They were so reserved it’d taken the rest of them almost the entire year to figure out they were dating and the girls had apparently wagered so much on how long it'd take them they almost broke up over it. Sylvie concluded she liked them, especially after hearing they weren’t that willing to socialise; she promised herself to always hover somewhat around them, hoping they’d scare away any possible person trying to befriend her.
Some of them weren’t strictly actors, as it was merely important to participate into the production in a way or another, without necessarily acting (and that made Sylvie’s ears perk up, because that was both news to her and also something she had to seriously consider, though she wouldn’t exactly know what quality she could have offered instead of acting).
Brunnhilde had been in charge of everything concerning art the previous year, and had painted all the backdrops so splendidly there was no doubt she would have been chosen that year, as well; next to her was her girlfriend Carol, who wasn’t even in the club but spent so much time there to support Brunnhilde one would have believed she was.
Then the lights and all-technical expert, who everyone referred to as O.B (and definitely not because everyone had forgotten his name and had then thought it was overly late to ask for it, no sir) and his tireless assistant Casey, who also happened to be sort of the handyman of the situation, which was probably the reason he had an exhausted and slightly exasperated look on his face, contrary to how he was presented.
And then, tardy and seemingly breathlessly awaited, the long-spoken about and legendary youngest Odinson: Loki. She found his name irritating, and she wasn’t even certain why.
In all fairness, from what she’d heard about him (despite what Sigyn said about him, everyone else agreed he was irritable and intractable when he wanted to be, and mostly a lone-wolf who did not enjoy spending time with the rest of the cast) she’d expected him to be snotty and dressed in the bougiest suit, with greasy hair and the most petulant voice, one who’d cry and run to daddy every time something didn’t go his way.
Well, maybe, perhaps, he was exactly all of those things, but what left her horrified and shocked and everything in between was something else entirely. When he finally showed up, unceremoniously throwing the door open and without even bothering to apologise, and she turned to face him mid eye-roll, everything seemed to freeze over.
Because it was him.
The strange boy she’d almost gotten arrested the year before.
Notes:
Brad is gonna catch a lot of strays in this story lol, be warned.
Stormlight_94 on Chapter 1 Wed 03 Sep 2025 07:57PM UTC
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purple_bougainvillea on Chapter 1 Sun 19 Oct 2025 09:03AM UTC
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mysticspellmans on Chapter 1 Sat 06 Sep 2025 11:22PM UTC
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purple_bougainvillea on Chapter 1 Sun 19 Oct 2025 09:05AM UTC
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