You Can Run, But You Can't Hide (Marnie)

[Ashley Engel]

How long had it been? Going on three months?
Alright, that was rhetorical, it had been exactly ninety-one days since she'd last spoken to Marnie Sullivan. Which was, notably, no fault of the chameleon's. Ash had been avoiding her on purpose, but not due to something she did or said. Even though, if memory served (and it did- hers always did) they hadn't exactly properly spoken since the party. And it was not a party, at least not to her. It was the party. The disaster.

But that was a while ago. Months, a break behind her. Which didn't do much to relieve any of the scarring, but at the least rumors seemed largely cooled. Which was.. what, nice? She couldn't tell anymore. Having a personal opinion on the matter was difficult. Honestly, after the short break, everything felt difficult. She was going in the opposite direction of progress. Avoiding people, only going out to attend classes, avoiding all sense of working on her powers. It was turning into Kocher all over again, though a bit faster paced.

If Ash cared, as always, it was hard to tell. She was avoiding people, even her roommate. The only sounds she ever made came from behind her shut door in the dorm, and they were feint. Late night phone calls, whispered conversations that barely lasted ten minutes at the most. She didn't talk in class and avoided everything she could as far as social turns went. Which typically crossed the cafeteria off her list. It was a warzone on the best of days. Open, full of people. Short of an elevator or stepping into the courtyard, there were very few worse places for her to be.

But it was early. Crack of dawn sort of early, and students were not often early risers. A few shuffled around, seeking a pre-sun breakfast in pajamas and delirious states. A rare few strangers were awake, alert. They went ignored. Ashley was rushing. She was dressed fully and on high alert, back straight and eyes ahead. She had one simple goal- get food and leave. But, as ever, it wouldn't be that easy for her. The best laid plans of Mice and Men, and all that.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Mornings had been starting earlier and earlier for Marnie the last few weeks. Maybe another week or two and she would consistently wake before sunrise without the aid of an alarm. For now, though, it was necessary if she wanted to be out of bed on time.

She didn't need to do it, Marnie knew. Plenty of her peers on the track team only ran during practice, or a couple of days each week to supplement. For some of them, that was all they needed to perform at a level they were happy with. But Marnie had been growing more and more dissatisfied with the times she'd been managing at practice, and that meant more training.

It wasn't as though her times were terrible. In fact, even without the early bird runs, she was already pulling better numbers than this time last year. But they could be better - it was just a matter of putting in the effort. Improving was a choice, something she had control over.

Unlike everything else, it felt like. She couldn't avoid Karalie during practice as much as she preferred - not the other girl's fault, really, but Marnie was frustrated with keeping her mouth shut. There was her social studies partner, who had her thoughts in more of a tangle than she'd like to admit. And now it was senior year, the final meta exams were looming, and Marnie had let herself get so distracted by the summer's drama that she'd made no noticeable progress. Realistically she knew it wasn't the end of the world, but some days it felt like she didn't understand anything at all.

But running? That was simple. She could handle running.

This morning, though, Marnie needed a little extra help in the caffeine department. The previous night she'd lost track of time working on her social studies project, doing extra reading to prepare for her next meeting with Safia. She was paying for it now, with the drag in her step and the bleariness still edging her vision.

Dressed for the cool weather outside, Marnie made her way to the cafeteria. One bonus of being up so early was the lack of a line at the coffee station, so she fixed herself a cup with plenty of cream and sugar and -

Marnie stopped short when she recognized her roommate, there in line for breakfast, the first time she'd even seen the girl in, god, a couple weeks at least. For a moment, she debated even bothering to greet Ash - it was hard to believe her company would be appreciated, as long at had been since her roommate had offered up so much as a "good morning." The mutterings she occasionally caught from the other side of Ash's door were no substitute for conversation. In fact, they only served to remind her that yes, her roommate was there. She was just apparently not interested in interacting with Marnie whatsoever.

But truth be told, Marnie kind of missed her. The dorm was lonely without anyone to say hello to after a day of classes, after all.

Well, it was worth a try.

Forgetting that the girl's telepathy would announce her presence anyway, Marnie approached from behind just in case Ash was feeling skittish enough to bolt. But what should she say? Where have you been? Did I upset you? What is your problem? Are we still friends?

Marnie reached out to tap the girl's shoulder and, plastering a smile on her face, asked, "So, come here often?"

[Ashley Engel]

All of it. She got all of it and it wasn't even optional.
Had Marnie forgotten? Understandable. Average human memory was regrettably untrained and unreliable. But still. Ash stood still, rigid. Like maybe she was the one that could just tense up and blend into the background. But no. She was the one that heard all of Marnie's unspoken questions.

Maybe on someone else they would have been stabs of guilt. Reminders of a weakened connection, lost contact with a friend. But all Ash really got was the word. Friend. Were they still friends? Didn't that imply they were friends before? Had they been? Marnie was, if nothing else, a set piece Ash had tolerated better than others. A person she could stand to be in an open room with. (And she had that pet that was still fairly interesting, that earned points.) But friends. Friendship. What did that even mean anymore?

Ash didn't react to any of it until Marnie actually touched her, and then there was a twitch and a sort of physical bristle. Hearing her actual voice instead of just thoughts made a small sigh rise up. Not annoyed, per say. Just surrendering to the fact that she was officially caught and as tempting as outright turning and bolting was, it was rude. And difficult, since there was a tray of food in her hands and running with that would be awkward at best.

So her shoulders dropped like Marnie's touch alone had put weight there.
Ash didn't turn around right away. She went through the line, not looking back but speaking up. A few people looked over in different states of grogginess, but Ash didn't pay it much attention. She could hear the different tones of Is she talking to me? but neglected them all because she wasn't. She was talking to Marnie, and Marnie would know it.
"I see you've neglected to recall I can hear you at all times."

Food. Paid for. Out of line.
Ash moved, looking around then giving up a second time. Not to Marnie, but to movement. As much as she wanted to find somewhere closed off to slink into, it was just frustratingly easier to sit down and eat there. So she turned around, finally looking at her roommate.

Ash did not look well. More pale, if only slightly.
Sleepless rings under her eyes, a new dullness not born of boredom but a kind of exhaustion. Her body drug in the motions of walking and overall she looked sort of scattered. Not the same collected, cold girl that had asked for Marnie's help killing a spider. She looked unwell. Sick, almost, but there was no coughing or sneezing. Just slowness and internal disarray.

"I've been intentionally avoiding you."
Yeah. She looked different, but Ash was still Ash. Blunt, painfully so. At the very least though when she turned towards a table she glanced back at Marnie, then nodded slightly. A somewhat subtle cue of Are you going to come sit with me or not? No use running away from it anymore, after all. More surprising than the invitation, was the talking. Ash kept going, answering all the thought questions. Both to give Marnie answers, and to sternly put the reminder out there that she could hear all the thoughts tumbling around the room.

"You didn't upset me. My problem is being antisocial and hearing people's inane thoughts at every possible moment. And as far as friendship goes I feel like that's more your area of expertise to determine, not mine." A pause. She sat down, then looked up and blinked once, slow and tired. Spoken words. She'd almost forgot those.
"Oh. And no, I avoid this place whenever possible. Which I suppose makes it a remarkable turn of events that the one time I do come here.." Ash didn't finish the words so much as she made a swooping motion towards Marnie with her fork. A sign of there you are. She was better, apparently, with nonverbal communication. Sort of.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Marnie had never entertained any grand delusions that she and Ash were the best of friends, or ever would be. She understood that if they didn't room near each other, hadn't been moving in the same day, the odds were poor that they ever would have spoken in the first place beyond exchanging superficial pleasantries in class. Probably not even that. But for better or for worse, Ash had been the first person Marnie had made any sort of connection with after moving in - however shaky that connection was. Even as she'd gone on to make new friends, she'd convinced herself that that meant something. It's why Ash's vanishing act had stung, as did the shorter girl responding ...less than enthusiastically to her appearance. Sure, their relationship had been founded on sand at best, but did she really have it that wrong?

As Ash paid and sought a place to sit and eat, Marnie trailed behind her silently, focused on keeping her thoughts polite to overcompensate for her blunder. True enough, she'd completely forgotten to factor in her roommate's ability until Ash had pointed it out. Chalking it up to the early hour, Marnie blew on her steaming hot coffee to cool it and hoped it would help prevent her embarrassing herself further.

God, but Ash looked in a bad way, she realized when the girl finally turned to address her - but not in, like, a bad bad way, Marnie amended her thought hastily. Uselessly. Was she as bad a liar in her head as she was out loud? Probably, she figured. Now that she'd had a decent look at her roommate, though, Marnie felt like a heel. Clearly Ash had something going on, whether it was simply illness or not, and here she'd been concerned with her own hurt feelings? How self-absorbed could she -

"I've been intentionally avoiding you."

Oh.

Was that an indication that she wanted Marnie to leave her alone now, too? But Ash was inviting her to sit, sort of. Figuring this would be the clearest indication she'd receive, Marnie hurried to take the seat across from her roommate.

Marnie burned her tongue on her coffee as she listened to Ash demonstrate her ability; she'd hoped drinking would keep her hands busy and her face somewhat casual, but all it did was remind her how painfully hot it was. At least if Ash noticed her wincing she wouldn't mistake it for a poor response to the girl actually opening up somewhat.

"...I guess I never thought about how annoying that would be, hearing what everyone's thinking all the time," Marnie replied after a moment. As often as she'd wished for the power herself, if only as a cheat code of sorts for a better understanding of where she stood with those around her, she'd never gotten as far as considering the consequences. She recalled Ash telling her all those months ago that walls and closed doors helped dull it; if that was true, she supposed she couldn't blame her roommate for staying shut away so much.

"Have you talked to Dr. Neville about it? He's really nice, he's helped me out a couple of times and I bet he could help you too," Marnie suggested, unaware that the doctor and Ash had already met on less than pleasant terms. "Since, you know, he can do the same thing."

[Ashley Engel]

God, she was so tired.
It wasn't entirely sleeplessness, but something close. Lack of rest, abundance of stress. Not eating correctly at all. Ash was essentially doing everything she possibly could wrong, short of recreational abuse. The weight of it all showed in spades.

As a result, she had very little patience for the normal social turns.
Blinking in good intervals, not staring. Choosing words carefully. All those things she didn't really do that much anyway, but tried to. No, on that particular morning with Marnie all luck between them had run dry. Ash was in a bad mood and she didn't bother hand-picking her words or reactions because of it. So Marnie's clumsy thoughts and amendments therein only served to irritated Ashley further. She sighed, trying to eat though the attempt seemed halfhearted at best. More than anything, she just stabbed and pushed at things on her tray idly.

"Don't worry, no one else thinks about it either. Trust me, I'd know."
The words were mutters, halfway under her breath and beyond bitter. It was sort of humor, which was semi-new. More refined, at least. Ash had never had a good sense of humor but exposure to people was helping somewhat. If anything, it just graced her with a heavier talent for sarcasm. For all the derisive nature in her words, it was nothing compared to how she looked at Neville being brought up.

If looks could kill, Marnie was toast.
Ash just stared at her, stopping all motion. She didn't even pick at her breakfast anymore. She just froze, looking at Marnie with narrowed eyes. There was a noise, a groan, that sounded almost like a freshly-dunked-in-the-bath cat. All growling and low. Rude. Ash knew it was rude, she had that much awareness. But she didn't try to take it back or compensate with niceness afterwards. She just sighed, dragging her eyes off Marnie and down to her food. Whatever she thought about Sean or the suggestion stayed in her head.

"The problem is not on my end." She huffed after a small pause.
Which wasn't even remotely true. The core of every issue she was having was her power and utter lack of control over it. Which she was supposed to be there to fix, and just like Kocher, wasn't. But Ash was stubborn and refused to see it that way.
"It's everyone in this awful place lacking the ability to just be intelligent and quiet."

Somewhat hatefully she stabbed at her eggs, glaring down at them.
She didn't imagine any particular person or anything as a target for the anger. She wasn't really capable of honed in violence as a natural concept. It was just frustration, plain and simple. As much was even more obvious when Ash rose the hand not occupied with a fork to rub at the side of her head behind one ear. When she looked back at Marnie it was without much anger. Just a frayed sort of exhaustion.

"Your response is based in an empathetic concern for.. my health?"
She started out strong but slowed down, squinting at Marnie. Trying to pinpoint exactly the cause of why advice would be offered at all. Typical behavior for someone invested in a detail of the other, but what exactly that was Ashley missed altogether. She couldn't understand if Marnie was speaking for the sake of health, emotional involvement, or something else. Maybe not wanting to have to deal with a sick or problematic roommate? Made sense, Ash would have probably approached Marnie in a similar situation. But she didn't view herself as an outstanding problem for the other girl, so it didn't add up. The simple idea that someone was just concerned about her as a friend didn't ever register fully. She considered the idea of emotional bias, but that had to originate from something. Ash never just felt compelled to care about someone for their own sake, so she couldn't grasp at the idea of anyone else doing it for her.

"At any rate, I can assure you that your concern over being the cause of my avoidance is unfounded. You didn't do anything." She stared for another moment, blinking once slowly.
"Also if you could at all stop obsessing over editing your own thoughts around me, that would be nice. You just produce more noise and get on my nerves when you worry about everything you think."
Mostly having to force herself, she rose up her fork and tried to actually eat something. The food wasn't bad, but she still chewed slowly. Trying to find room around the frustration and aggravation in her system to eat properly. What Marnie said still settled unevenly in her though. Talking to Neville. Same thing she could do. Ugh. Keeping her stomach settled and food down seemed even more difficult by the minute.