Recent Posts

Paige couldn't help but give a laugh as Seyta looked at her face to 'face.' "I'd say nice to meet you, but time will tell. And sadly, the odds aren't exactly in your favor," she said matter-of-factly.

"You know though, you can put me back in your pocket. I mean, it's not as weird to have people think you're talking to your self in public as it would be for you to be seen talking to a spork. Just saying. Eeeven if technically everyone else can hear me talking too." She didn't know why she decided to be nice there. After all, she didn't care. Well...she shouldn't have cared, right? Right?

Paige grumbled, but didn't argue so much. If she were shoved in her guitar case, she'd never shift back...So back pocket it was. Great...now she was trying to have a conversation with a spork that was up close and personal with her butt. And against her will at that.

"Spork girl...reeeal original. You come up with that all by yourself? I'm impressed," she said sarcastically, then gave a sigh, giving up on the sarcasm. It really wasn't making her situation any better. "You can call me Paige."

"I've never literally been locked up--unless you count that time when I was seventeen and got arrested for breaking some jerk's nose," she said, a lame attempt at a joke--even if it really happened. "I guess...I guess I've just had confidence issues lately, hence the nightmares." She took a breath. That actually felt good. Opening up like that.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Don't wanna wake anyone up from the hallway, I guess. Heh."

This was perfect. Just amazing, even...now she'd be a spork until she could calm down. But surprisingly, it seemed her opponent was looking for her. Eh, maybe she was just shocked that Paige seemed to vanish into thin air. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Down here...the ****ing spork. What do you care, anyway?" Even in shift, her voice was shaky, sad, and snappy. There was more than a hint of attitude behind her self-pity. What did it matter, after all? Paige was defeated, now she was a hybrid piece of flatware lying on the subway floor.

Paige nodded. "I was in high school when I discovered my mutation. I was a cheerleader, and one of the football players snuck up on me and I shifted into a spork in front of everybody. It was kind of embarrassing, but I like it now. It's interesting, especially when I'm able to pass off as whatever I turned into." She smiled a bit.

"I'm not, well...I wasn't. Since I moved here I've been sort of an insomniac. I often find myself wondering the halls in whatever I slept in. I just pulled on the hoodie because my arms were cold." She wasn't very observant, but she did manage to figure out he used skin-writing because maybe he couldn't talk.

Paige would have blinked, if boxers had eyes. But seeing words appear on his skin? That was shocking, but utterly cool. "Whoa..." was the girl/underpants's first response. "Uh...yeah. I'm fine. I just...was taking a walk. And my mind was sort of busy. When I try to shift like that...I tend to take the shape of weird stuff, it seems. It requires focus, so when my focus isn't steady, the shift isn't what I want."

A long silence, after which there were no longer a pair of black-and-pink boxers on the floor, but a five-foot-five blonde girl with green eyes. "I'm Paige. Uh...that's a cool mutation. In fact I kinda tried to shift to avoid the fact that I was staring." The last part, she added as an afterthought. Great. You sound like a love-struck junior high student. You don't even like guys... Mentally, she face-palmed. She liked herself better when she was tough. On top of the food-chain, so to speak. But as far as toughness, and confidence, she left the girl that was on top of the food chain in LA. Maybe if she brought a guitar everywhere she went, she'd be more confident.

Paige had no idea what time it was. But she knew it was some ungodly hour, it was still dark when she looked out of her bedroom window, after managing to sleep for a few hours. But now, she was wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. And so, she climbed out of bed, wearing a pair of black sleep pants with red lip-stick marks on them and a purple spaghetti strap. Going through her clothes, she put on a blue hoodie with a kitten trying to look tough on the back, but didn't bother zipping it; it was just to cover her arms, because they were cold.

Locking the room behind her, she started down the halls, far more alert and awake than she really should have been. But she'd been having bouts like this ever since she moved into the mansion. Weird nightmares, all somehow relating to her not being good enough, haunted her sleep from time to time.

But now, she found herself aimlessly walking the halls of the mansion, as quiet as she could be so as not to wake anyone else. At first the thought occurred to her to go skinny-dipping just for the sheer ghits and shiggles, but then she remembered it was December. Uhhh...no. So, she aimlessly wondered in search of something to do; some purpose to be awake.