these new places, those old faces [open]

[Scott Lauren]

Dark brown eyes ran up and down the older woman's shapely form, eyebrows twitching upward in approval. Well, if all the staff looked like that, there was a chance this place wouldn't be all that bad. Lips twisted into a faint smirk as he eyed the receptionist who was still talking at him, slightly worried by his eyes on her body. As far as the student was concerned, though, she was asking for it, wearing a tight skirt and low-cut top like that. A map was thrust under his nose, and he ignored it in favor of eying her neckline with growing approval. While she was no Alice Lauren, she was a looker for an older woman, an achievement many never reached.

Scott's bag hung loosely at his side, the strap hooked over one shoulder, dangling casually by his hip. He rested one hand on it, while the other swung at his side, first two fingers tapping out a rhythm that was only audible to him. His dark hair was in its usual, messy state; he was dressed casually, in a loose white shirt and black jeans and no accessories, all metal jewelery having been removed from him upon entry to the psychiatric hospital he had last lived in; it was tragic, really, that they thought some kids were so desperate to hurt themselves that they had to take away rings. What damage could a ring do? Unless the student got hold of a flame and melted it down into something sharper - he doubted it. Security was tight around those places - rings weren't going to contribute to the suicide rate among teens in the states, but what did he know? He was just another statistic.

Yet another reason that they should let him get back to his mother. If they'd just let him speak to her, he was certain they could work it out. She hadn't wanted it that one time, so she'd screamed, and now she was living without him for the rest of her sad life. She was nothing without him, nothing, and she'd gone and spoiled it all. Of course, it was just as wrecked for him. Stupid whore had fucked up his life, and he had so much more of it to live through than she did. And they'd called her a victim. Motherfucking (part of him couldn't resist smirking at his choice of words) victim! It wasn't like it wasn't her fault. She'd known exactly what he was going to do, and she'd untied him anyway. In his opinion, the bitch had been asking for it, and if she couldn't handle it, it wasn't exactly his fault, right? But no, his opinion didn't count. He was a rapist, she was the rape victim... at least until they'd found out about the other thing. Little bit of role reversal, there. Scott remembered being told that they knew what Alice had 'done to him'. That was when he'd first known that they were going to be taken away from each other for good.

The receptionist began to walk away, and Scott shook himself out of his haze of memories, realizing he was supposed to follow. Glancing down, he took in the lower parts of her body, parts that had before been concealed by a desk, and found he was disappointed. Very nice top half; unremarkable bottom half. Shame, really, but it wasn't a great loss. She wouldn't have let him bang her anyway, that was for damn sure, and she most likely carried sedatives like the security. If not sedatives, then a radio, with which she could call the people with sedatives. So, no action there. Not a problem, he could get it somewhere else, easily. Silently, he followed the woman through several corridors, long passages and up staircases. Were they trying to prevent escape by making sure no-one had a clue where they were?

Eventually, they reached the dorm room, and the woman left him with a fake smile and a look of dislike. Pity. Looking into the room, he decided that both his roommates were ballet dancers, if the clothing and shoes were anything to go by. Unfortunately, neither one was there, and so he dumped his bag on the nearest empty bed and decided to go for a walk. Heading back down the way they'd come, he passed a room that looked like some sort of common room. Glancing in, he saw a bunch of computers, sofas and chairs scattered around, along with desks and small tables. It looked as good a place as any to meet people, so Scott entered, threw himself down on one of the chairs and swung his legs over the arm rest, leaning back on the other and letting his head fall back. It was only a matter of time before someone came along and decided to talk to him.

Scott hoped that whoever it was, they were either cool or female, preferably both, but he wouldn't object to one or the other. Absently, he wondered how much sex he'd get here. Hopefully, not all the girls were psychotic, afraid of everything, or rape victims. Maybe there would be some sex addicts, or... what was the word? Hypersexual? That sounded about right. Anyway, he didn't particularly care about the terminology. He just hoped that there would be girls he could bang, or he was going to be getting very frustrated here. And frustrated Scott was... not nice.

[Faerydae Lily Elfe]

Faye shut Quartz's bedroom door, frustrated. She'd looked everywhere else she could think of - the acting place, the library, the stream and the bits around it - and he was nowhere to be found. She wanted to tell him about the Faerie she'd seen; it had flown away before she'd got a closer look, but it had been beautiful. Wings that were a really deep green (she couldn't think of how to describe the colour, maybe a green like grass, just as the sun was setting and casting shadows on it) and her - for Faye was sure that it had been a girl - clothing was the same colour, maybe a little lighter.

It had just been a flash out of her bedroom window, when she had been painting the picture for Quartz. She'd been working on it for such a long time... A few weeks, now. The main reason it had taken so long was because she'd finished it three times already, only to not be satisfied with the final result. The art teacher had taken the three cast-off's and put them all together on a wall, saying they were very nice, which made Faye proud. Still, they weren't nice enough. Quartz deserved the best picture she and all the Faeries in the Kingdom were capable of drawing.

Not that she was going to ask them to help her, or anything. They'd willingly oblige - Faeries were wonderful like that - but she didn't deserve their help. No Changeling should be allowed to invoke the Powers; it was just wrong. She'd been going to ask Quartz if he needed any help with anything; she hadn't been helping people enough. And when she didn't help people...well, nothing would happen to her. That was the point. There was no way she'd be a Faerie if she carried on being as horrible and bitchy as she was doing, by not helping people.

She wandered into the common room, looking around to see if Quartz was anywhere. No, which was a pity. The room was empty - no, there was a boy there. Faye watched him from her position in the doorframe, hoping he wasn't dead. The position he was in seemed like one better suited to a contortionist than a boy trying to relax, and she was slightly worried that he had been pushed over and broken his neck...or something. Should she go and help him? Chewing her lip, she decided that she would, slowly crossing the room to the dead person. What if he was a Demon, and was just pretending to be dead, so he could snatch her away? The thought made her stop walking, standing frozen for a second, before forcing herself to continue. It was only about two more steps...

Gently, she stuck out one finger, deliberating over whether she should poke him, or if that would upset him. Well, if he was dead, nothing would upset him. But if he was alive, and just napping... Faye withdrew the finger, kneeling down beside his head. "Are you, um... Can I help you with anything?" The last word was stressed. Anything. "Um... You're not dead, or a - a Demon, are you?" She shuffled backwards as she said it, her knees scraping against the carpet quite painfully. It was a punishment, she decided, for not helping more people, and Faye continued to wriggle her legs, wincing occasionally and trying to convince herself that hurting was good.

This boy wasn't Quartz. He looked quite Human, she decided, studying his face. Not really like a Faerie. Should she make sure? It was bad to make snap judgements about people, Faye knew. It didn't help anything; therefore it was bad. "Um..." She had to swallow several times before she could force the words out. "Are you a...Faerie?" Without noticing it, she'd crossed her fingers, gazing up at Scott from her position, kneeling on the floor. If he was, he might have some tips on how to help her... No. She didn't need help with her task, it was simple. Help Everyone, Even Humans. Laila had used to make her write it out, hundreds of times, because it would never sink in... It was just because she was too stupid, Faye decided. Too idiotic to learn.

[Scott Lauren]

Scott lifted his head, seeing a pretty, dark-haired girl there. She must have been about fourteen, he thought, glancing her up and down. Tiny... not that he objected to that. He gave her a lazy smile and swung his legs around, sitting up properly in the chair now that he had something to focus his attention on. She knelt down by where his head had been, looking very worried. Dark skin, dark hair, very pretty. Scott decided he liked, he liked very much. "Hey, gorgeous. What's up?" he purred, raising one hand and hooking it behind his head.

Her words were unexpected, but very welcome. Very welcome. But she continued, and Scott's smile faded, a frown replacing it. Dead? Demons? Well, his first impression of her - mostly sane - had been wrong, apparently, but she didn't seem dangerous. And besides, the allure of that one word, anything, was far too strong for him to resist. "Honey, I'm a living, breathing human being... and I can think of a few things you could help me with," he told her, showing a set of very white teeth in a wolf-like smile. He was beginning to like St Dympha's already, and he'd only been here half an hour.

Leaning forwards, elbows propped on his knees, he looked her up and down again, very slowly this time. Tiny was right, but not undeveloped in the places it counted. Younger, two years by his reckoning. Not a problem. The receptionist had already been long forgotten in favour of this little girl who was offering to do anything for him. After all, how many times had he had an opportunity like this? The answer came before the question had even formed in his mind. Lots - but quite often the girl in question was in considerable pain and offering anything in return for being let go. Being offered anything for nothing, while not a whole new experience for Scott, was rare, and he intended to make the most of it.

She spoke again, and this time, the puzzlement that flickered across his face was only momentary. He watched her predatorially, running his tongue thoughtfully over the back of his teeth, thinking up a suitable reply for her question. Then he realised that he'd already answered it, telling her he was a living breathing human, and something akin to disappointment rose in him. It would have been fun to trick her... but he lacked the patience for a long-term facade, and quite frankly, he'd rather just use, abuse and lose. It was, after all, an approach that had got him everything he'd ever wanted before. No reason for it to fail now, right?

Except it had already failed. His eyes darkened as he thought of Alice, writhing underneath him. Screaming, crying, begging. It had been so good, felt so good to have that kind of power. But she'd betrayed him, she'd cried for help, and help had come. She'd condemned them both, and they'd lost each other, when they should have been together forever, spent the rest of their lives in that house in Manhattan, exploring every part of each other, theirs souls, their bodies, their minds. They should have stayed, never changed, never left, and it was all her fault. Her fault for screaming so loudly, her fault for letting him go, for tying him up, driving him insane, for being so damn hot in the first place. All her fault, and now he was suffering for it. He was damaged, doomed to remember his own mother as the one woman who'd ever seduced him, who he'd ever relied on. He needed her, and because of her, they'd never see each other again. Never speak, touch, kiss, fuck. Never again.

Scott pushed the thoughts aside. Apart from the fact that the memory was turning him on quite a lot, he had to keep focused on the present, or he'd never be able to get over her. His eyes refocused on the little girl who was offering anything, and the last of the memories faded away, his friendly smile returning. "What's your name?" he asked of the girl in front of him, forcing his eyes to see a little black girl, not a middle-aged blonde beckoning him.

[Faerydae Lily Elfe]

Faye opened and closed her mouth awkwardly, looking down at her hands, clasping and unclasping them in her lap. Gorgeous? What was she meant to say to that? It upset people when you told them they were wrong (although she sometimes had to, when she was renaming them), but she wasn't pretty. Changeling's weren't; they were marked. Hers was a birthmark, below her collarbone on the left side, a small, circular stain. She hated people seeing it, but some boys had, when she'd helped them at her old school. That had been...embarrassing. Quite disgusting, really. None of them had commented on the mark (she didn't think they'd noticed it; there mostly had their eyes closed or on...other parts) but the experience still made her feel...sick.

It was bad that she felt sick because she helped people; another sign that she was a Changeling. Naturally, they don't want to help people. Some of the boys had called her gorgeous, like Scott was doing, and some had called her other things, like 'pretty', 'hot' and 'whore'. That might not mean that he wanted to do the same things with her, did it? She bit her lip, hoping not, and then reprimanding herself for being such a horrible Changeling. If that would help him... Personally, Faerydae didn't see how it helped to do those things, but it might be different for boys. After a few stuttered attempts, she managed to answer, whispering slightly. "I, um, nothing. You? I mean, are things up for you?" She had the feeling that there was an unconscious innuendo, somehow, in her stuttered words, but didn't dwell on it. If she did, she'd just end up getting more embarrassed and it would get worse... She noticed how casual Scott looked and was slightly envious; if she put her hands behind her head, she'd always get scared that someone was going to poke her stomach, which was very tickly.

Scott frowned at her and she ducked her head, hoping he didn't think she was crazy. Humans always said she was, when she asked what species they were, or some variation of the question... Mainly because they didn't understand what Faeries, Demons, Changelings and various other species were; Humans weren't very well educated in that respect. She relaxed when he confirmed that he wasn't dead or a demon - and breathing was good! you died if you didn't, right? - and looked back up, relieved to see he was smiling again. Faye ignored the slight qualm in her stomach at Scott's smile, the way it was so...predatory. But she wasn't thinking about that, or the way he was sitting above her, the difference in their height scaring her. The last one was her fault anyway; she sat on the floor. She didn't usually sit on sofas or chairs, unless everyone else was - someone might need the chair that she'd taken up. It was quite rare that she was taking the piece of floor that somebody wanted.

"That's, um, good. That you're alive. Um, how can I help? It's good to make people happy." Should she explain about how she wanted to be a Faerie? No; he might think she was crazy. The boys at her old school had said she was crazy, and would call her "weirdo girl", despite her explaining that her name was actually Faerydae, or Faye. The girls weren't as mean, generally. They just ignored her. Once or twice, they'd run around her, flapping their arms like idiots Faeries, even after her explaining that Faeries didn't do that. Humans could be a little silly about things like that... Well, this boy seemed nice enough. He hadn't called her weirdo girl. He'd asked her name, and he wouldn't do that if he was going to insult her, would he?

Even such a simple question as her name presented problems. Should she introduce herself as Faye, or Faerydae? Or use her full name? If she did use her full name, did she use her middle name, or was that too much? She knew that her entire name sounded a little...weird. "I'm, um... I'm Faye. Or Faerydae. Or Faerydae Elfe..." Well, she'd given him three names, but she'd managed to leave out Faerydae Lily Elfe. Was Scott even listening to her mumbles, though? He looked a little...distant. "Um, what's your name? Not your Human name..." She studied him, trying to work out what his Faerie name would be. Was he more a flower or an animal? Or a crystal? Maybe an animal, she decided. A wolf, or a bear, or something...big like that. Were there any flowers that suited him? Not really, she decided. He didn't seem the delicate type. Or was that an offensive thought? What if it was? She stared at Scott, wide-eyed, hoping she hadn't offended him, despite not speaking her criticism aloud.

[Scott Lauren]

Scott watched her, one eyebrow cocked. The girl was unlike anyone he'd ever met: who walked up to a strange boy in a psychiatric hospital and offered to do anything they wanted to make them happy, after all? She didn't look completely clueless, though, blushing and turning away when he called her gorgeous. So she'd guessed his intent. Scott was glad: you'd have to be completely oblivious not to. Even so, it was worth being subtle about this, just in case she didn't know what she was getting into. Scott corrected himself mentally. Of course she didn't know what she was getting into, with him. No-one ever did, not until it was too late. He smiled at her, still watching her with that predatory gaze, his eyes wandering up and down her body in a leisurely way.

He almost laughed aloud when she spoke, her words apparently said in all innocence. "Oh, yeah. Things are up for me, honey," he murmured, still eying her body appreciatively. She was blushing again, and he smiled. So sweet and innocent, so... fresh. He beckoned her closer, head tilted to one side to see how she would react to what he had planned. How could she help? Well, there were a lot of things she could help with. He glanced over at the camera, wondering whether he should move to somewhere more private. But... no, let them look. They would know things like this were happening anyway, and Scott had no desire to leave his seat. Of course, later, the desire would grow stronger, but that was thoughts for later.

Looking back at Faye, he smirked at her. "Hit me," he told her, watching for her reaction. She probably would, he decided, but hate it. "As hard as you can," he ignored her question about his name. For one thing, his 'human' name was the only name he had (and then, of course, there were the various nicknames Alice had given him... but those stayed strictly between them), and for another, he didn't particularly care. He'd only asked so if he ever wanted her again, he'd know where to look.


Sorry it's sow awful. I've been sick and had a major muse-crash, and this was the best I could get out.

[Faerydae Lily Elfe]

Faye folded her arms across her chest protectively when Scott began looking at her in a...sorta creepy way, before realizing that he probably wanted to look at her, or he wouldn't be doing it. If she moved her arms back, though, it'd look like she wanted him to stare at her... She stayed still, hoping he wouldn't be upset with her. Then she'd have to make it up for it, somehow... Biting her lip, she blushed at his words, wishing she'd thought before she'd spoken. He was still staring at her...

When he lazily flicked a finger at her, she moved forward quickly, glad that she could please him in some way, even if it was just going closer to him. She was almost crushing herself against the sofa in her enthusiasm, still kneeling. Faye's gaze followed his, seeing the camera and relaxing ever so slightly; if he knew that they were being watched, he probably wouldn't want to do that, would he? No, that'd be...very, very weird. Although some people liked that, didn't they? Being watched? She didn't see the attraction, personally, although she never saw the attraction in things like that. But being watched was especially bad... And they were in a public area! The common room was almost a hallway between the dorms; anybody could see them... No, he wasn't going to make her do that. Nobody would be so idiotic.

At his words, Faye blinked, a sick feeling in her stomach. Was he joking? He looked serious... What was she meant to do? Surely, being hit wouldn't make him happy? But he'd asked her to... "I'm...not sure. I don't know what, um, I'm meant to do..." With her left hand, she reached up, gently tapping his leg. But he'd said as hard as she could... She blinked, trying not to cry. It was just so confusing. Closing her eyes for a second, she decided to go with what he had told her to; he had asked, after all. With her right fist -that was her dominant hand, and it was stronger- she hit his leg again, gasping in pain and looking down at her fist. She'd punched wrong, probably. Were you meant to have your thumb on the inside or the outside? She'd had it in the outside, and it hurt. "I'm, um, sorry... Is that okay?" Faye bit her lip, satisfied that she'd followed his instructions, but worried that she'd hurt him.

"I'm really sorry... I don't want to make you sad! I'm not allowed..." She paused, deliberately biting her lip as hard as she could in an attempt to taste blood; punishment. "Are you sad now? Should I have not..." Her sentence tailed off, unfinished, a sense of fear gripping her stomach. Was he going to get angry and hurt her? Or was he going to cry? If he hurt her, she decided, it was fair. Faye knew that she deserved it, anyway. If he cried, though... She wiped her eyes, hoping he wouldn't laugh at her for almost crying, and then reminding herself that he was allowed to laugh all he wanted; she had just hurt him. Anything that would make up for that was good...

She realized that he hadn't answered her question about her name, wondering if she should repeat it. "Um...what is your name? Am I allowed to know?" Some people didn't like their names being known. Laila hadn't. She'd said that the police -mean people that didn't understand, that had taken Faye and her sisters away- were out to get her, and she was right. No, she wasn't meant to tell people Laila's name, but they all seemed to know anyway...was that her fault? Probably.

[Scott Lauren]

Dark eyes filled with amusement at her eagerness. He remembered writing in his app that girls were 'queued up around the block' for him, but he hadn't meant it quite like this. It wasn't unwelcome, not by a long way, though. She seemed to be nervous; he was making her nervous. Good. She should be. Maybe she'd learn not to go to strangers and ask how she could help them. He doubted it, somehow, but even so... it could be amusing.

His words seemed to tear a whole in her thin grasp of reality, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. If they'd let him stay at home, he would never have to go through this. He could just ask her. Of course, that usually resulted in some kind of creative punishment, like being tied up and... no, he decided, he wasn't thinking about that. Not now. Even so, he couldn't resist a faint smile at the memory. Damn, but that had been hot. He turned his attention reluctantly back to Faye, still crouched by his knee, still looking confused and terrified.

She spoke, and he sighed, raising an eyebrow at her. He didn't speak; if she couldn't make sense of that simple sentence, she wasn't worth his time. But... yes, she was going to do it. He tensed in readiness, waiting for the blow and the pain that would follow... it never came. He felt the blow, but there was no pain. A dull flare, that faded straight away.

Through gritted teeth, he growled at her. "Not good enough," with a roll of his eyes, he viciously grabbed her wrist, squeezing it tightly, so hard her hand went white. Raising his other fist, he punched her, hard, the familiar rush that came whenever he caused pain flooding through him. "Like that. Try again," he told her, his eyes dark, completely ignoring her question. Releasing her wrist, he sat back and held out his hands. "Come on," he snarled at her. "Hurt me."

Eying her, he wondered what the punishment would be for driving a girl to have a mental breakdown on his first day. He wouldn't get kicked out, probably. It was unlikely, anyway. He'd probably just go to isolation or something. As he sat there, waiting for the next blow, he allowed his mind to wander back to Alice, asking once again why they had decided to do this to him. He needed to be with her, had to be. Why had they separated? They'd said it was for his own good, but how? How was this good for anyone? What he and Alice had been doing was no danger to anyone. They hadn't been hurting people - except each other, he recalled fondly - so why did they deserve to be taken away? One little mistake, that was all it took. One mistake, one scream, and his life had been ruined. He clenched his jaw against the anger, glaring furiously down at Faye. He needed to take out some of his anger, and here was someone who was asking, just begging to be his newest victim.

[Faerydae Lily Elfe]

Faye winced as he took her wrist, squeezing it so hard she had to bit her lip so she wouldn't complain out loud, something that might upset him. He must have known that he was hurting her; he must have wanted to, so he probably didn't want her to cry or anything. She sniffed slightly, staying still and swallowing, about to ask how she could do it better when he punched her. The force of the blow almost knocked her off her feet, and for a few, terrifying seconds she couldn't breathe. When air reached her lungs, Faye breathed in gratefully, blinking away the tears that came to her eyes. The only thing that stopped her crying was the thought that she might upset this...interesting Human. As well as the desire -no, need- not to upset people, the idea of him punching her again was enough incentive for her to nod quickly, not questioning his command.

He offered her his hands, and she uncertainly took hold of his left wrist, the way that he had grabbed hers. Faye squeezed as hard as she could, her arm shaking with the effort. It wasn't like she tried to hurt people's arms on a regular basis; the closest she got to this was gripping a paintbrush as hard as she could, which wasn't very hard (once, she'd broken a brush in half, because she'd squeezed it when her art teacher was shouting. It was very, very bad to do that, because it had upset the nice lady.)

Scott had said 'like that', so he probably wanted her to punch him the way he had hit her. Dropping his wrist -which she doubted she'd hurt, at all- Faye hit his stomach, the force hurting her own arm. It wasn't good to be hurting people like this...she was probably upsetting him. What did her rules say? Closing her eyes, she tried to remember if she knew what to do in this situation. They said that she had to help Humans. Was this helping a Human? He'd asked her to, so probably. But she also had to make Humans happy -those two rules were equally important- and this might not make him happy. Sniffing again, Faye chewed her lip, unsure of what to do. "I'm not meant to make people sad...is this making you happy?" If he said no, she would have to stop...though that would mean she wasn't helping him. It was all so confusing! Quickly, she wiped away the tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes, hoping he wouldn't be angry with her for being sad. She didn't want to hurt people...and her wrist was hurting quite a lot. The aching pain in her stomach had mostly gone, but the burning stayed in her arms, making her worry about painting. What if she couldn't do it? If her hand was hurt and she couldn't paint? Faye was left-handed -another sign that she was a Changeling- and she carefully inched that hand behind her back, where Scott couldn't reach it. Just in case he wanted to hurt her there again...

After taking a deep breath, she decided to do her best explaining her rules. If she did it right, he might understand her problem... Scott was glaring at her scarily, and Faye looked at the floor, hating the tears that were coming slightly faster. "Um... I'm not allowed to make Humans sad. I mean, I have to help Humans. And make them happy. Which I...think I'm doing for you." She paused for a minute, blinking furiously. Should she tell him about the rest of her rules? He probably wouldn't care... "And, there are other things. But... I can't make you sad. Because that's bad." Her voice was desperate, pleading with the scary boy to understand.

[Scott Lauren]

Scott sighed. She wasn't even crying for him, the stupid little bitch... she was hardly worth his time, he decided, but still. Until he found a better way of spending his stay at this sorry excuse for a hospital, she'd have to do. The feeling on her hand on his wrist made him tense, awaiting the pain that followed. It was a disappointment, though. The sensation of her nails, digging into his skin was... pleasant, but no more. It did nothing to ease the pent-up desire burning inside of him. God, if he didn't find something more interesting to do soon, he was going to blow up...

The blow to his stomach knocked his breath out of his chest, and he gasped for a moment, before his lungs began to work again. She was weak, it was true, but she'd got him in that sensitive area under the ribcage, where even the faintest blow could wind you, albeit for a few seconds. The throbbing was soon gone, though, and he realised that this girl was going to be no good for what he wanted. Even so... looking down at her, he tilted his head. "Better," he murmured, offhandedly. He was flexible, after all. There wasn't just one thing he wanted from a girl like her.

Shifting his weight carefully, he listened to her, on eyebrow cocked. "You're making me happy, darling. Oh, believe me, you are," he purred, and one foot shot out, catching her a shattering blow square in the chest, knocking her off her feet... unless he'd seriously lost his strength while coming here, but he doubted it. Getting up, he languidly stretched his arms above his head, crouched down over the girl, and took hold of one of her arms again. "Follow me," he told her, his eyes cold. "Don't tell anyone about what happens in the next hour, and don't you dare scream. Got that?" With that, he straightened up, ignoring the camera in the corner of the room, and walked away, hoping - no, knowing - that Faye would be following him.

[Faerydae Lily Elfe]

Faye wiped her eyes again, unable to help the tears that seemed to be fathering by the hundred there. The nice (ish) boy looked like he was in pain, and it was her fault. She looked around the room anxiously, wincing when she saw nobody around. What if she'd broken something vital of Scott's? Was there anything essential in your chest? She put one hand on herself, where she had hit him, and pushed hard. It didn't hurt too much, but she wasn't punching herself.

When Scott responded to her question she sighed in relief, nodding thankfully. He'd said she had done better; that meant that he wasn't angry with her (probably). When he said that she was making him happy, Faye's face lit up. Despite her qualms about causing pain, she'd made him happy, which was probably good. "Um -" Her question was cut off by something hitting her chest, knocking her back onto the floor. There were a few seconds where she was absolutely convinced that she was dead, or dying at the very least, something that was not good. If she died now, before she'd made people happy... Faye's vision cleared and she breathed in and out quickly, seeing Scott beside her and not being quite able to stop herself from flinching away.

Being told to follow him was good, she decided. That was a direct order; something she could do. There weren't shades of grey, like with hitting him. "I will," she whispered, struggling up. "And I won't...tell anyone. Or...scream." Why would she scream? What was going to happen? Faye had a sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with having just been kicked. When she managed to stand up without feeling like being sick, she ran after Scott, walking slightly behind him. "Um, why would I scream? Not that I would. Because you said not to...but what am I helping you with? Am I helping you?" She swallowed nervously, hugging herself with one arm. Her chest hurt, and it made her want to cry, something she wasn't allowed to do. It might upset Scott...

[right[((OOC: Sorry for crapness; writing on a time limit with about four hours sleep. xD))[/right][/font][/size]