#look like it had been dyed and yes like the two colors somewhat mingled together

[kanene-yaaay]

One day I am going to have money to commission beans and then it will be over for me because the FIRST thing I will do is to ask for a drawing of a gremlin that appeared in my tickle dream and the moment I see him again I will fall on the floor dead ♡

[plot-twist-i-survived]

ToG-Alein and Rowan-Lies are scars modern day planetary blindness au

Alein’s POV

~flashback~

7 years ago- I was blind, stumbling around in complete darkness until I ran into a furry body, presumably my dog Fleetfoot. “Are you ok?? Good boy!!” I told him, and heard a hearty woof in reply. “Where are they Fleetfoot?? Find them!” I held on to her body as she led me inside and through rooms to where I had found my best friend Lysandra, I was able to tell by the scar on her wrist she earned by telling a creepo on the street she had a boyfriend to get away from him. “Alein is that you?” she had asked, running a hand up my back, over the three large scars running across my back. “It is you!” She cried, embracing me. “I was terrified! All of a sudden I couldn’t see!” She said. “Yeah, me too.” I shuddered. ~end of flashback~

People started calling it “The Great Blinding,” as everyone on Earth had gone blind in the same moment. The world had quickly started deteriorating, with humans not being able to see, even the most bustling cities now appeared post-apocalyptic. We had started telling each other apart by our voices and our scars, earned by the lies we have told. It hurts like heck when it happ- my train of thought interrupted by someone stumbling into me and knocking me down. “Oh crap, sorry.” a voice says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. “What did you do!” I screech, seeing him, the first person I’ve actually seen in three years. He’s looking at me with the same shocked face that I’m sure I have. As we look around, we gravitate toward each other ending up back to back as we look around, completely bewildered. Across every available solid surface the words “DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE” are scrawled in red paint. We look each other and shrug, confused, but we already were because we can see now so whatever I guess. I turn to him, noting the large tattoo across one side of his face. “My names Alein, what’s your’s handsome?” I say. I mean he is, silver hair, tan, tall, and buff, looking to be around my age, 18. “Rowan” he replies with a snort, “Not so bad yourself.” “Thanks” I smirk and then whip around startled, when I hear leaves crunch. Oh it had been so long since I had seen the beautiful fall colors of leaves in autumn. We saw an old man carrying a can if red spray paint. He grinned excitedly when he saw us staring at him. “You can see me!” He exclaimed. “I know what the messages say” he says chuckling, “but we mean the people who can’t see, until we find you. We find people like you and bring them back home to us.” He says. “Where is home and who is ‘we’?” Rowan asks. “Home is Indianapolis, we have restored parts of it to suit our needs, and we is those of us who have met our soulmates and have had our sight restored. We are the Resistance because everyones sight disappearing wasn’t a coincidence and we need to set it right.” He explains. Rowan and I are just gaping at him, shocked, but the old man continues. “Did you find each able to see or after meeting regain your sight?” He asks. I tell him that the male bumped into me and when we touched hands we could see again. “Just what I thought” he smirked, “you two are soulmates.

SOULMATES?!?!?! Who does this man think he is?! No way. I just met Rowan. But what if..? Again, my thoughts are interrupted, like what is up with today and getting my train of thought cut off?? The old man was asking our names. I cut in before Rowan could speak. “I’m Celeana and this is Chaol.” I said, my gut telling me not to give away our real names. I gave Rowan a glance that told him to play along. Right now, thats the best I can do.

Rowans POV

We followed the old man, who introduced himself as Dorian. It was a bit of a trek but after a while we reached a bunker leading underground. He led us inside, acting very welcoming, which for the world Alein and I are from, people don’t act like that. We actively avoid others for our own safety. People have gone insane enough from the virus to kill others and themselves. Who knows where he’s actually leading us. Now we are heading deep underground. “So how many of you are there in this ‘Resistance?’” I ask. “Well Chaol, we are somewhat scattered around in hopes to find others like us, but from our most recent count about a month ago, we number in the 700s.” the old man, Dorian, that was his name, replies. The tunnel levels out, and we reach a circular room containing one stairwell leading up, one leading down, two more hallways, and three doors. He leads us through one of the doors into a room. The walls are packed dirt, supported by wooden beams, which it to be expected, with the floor also packed dirt but with 6 large square plates of metal, tin by the looks of it. Curious. The ceiling is tin as well, some what beaten up.

Dorian disappears through a door on the other side of the room, then reappears through what appears to be a tinted window. “This is a one way mirror. That means you can see me but I cannot see you.” His voice crackes over an obviously dated sound system. Everything is old nowadays. “Strip down to your underclothes.” He orders, as Alein and I gasp. “Excuse me!” She demands. “I don’t take orders from you!” Dang. She’s angry. “Celeana do as I say or it will be done forcefully.” Dorian replies, calmly. Too calmly. She reluctantly complies, pulling her sweater off. I turn and face the opposite wall and strip down to my boxers. Thank goodness I didn’t wear my lobster embroidered ones even though they are my favorites! Dorian speaks again, “I am going to send a bot into the room, it will not take pictures or record, it will only catalog your scars. I ask that you face my wall and stay still.” Alein and I turn and face the indicated wall, but as the bot comes out of the door, I see Alein make a face out of the corner of my eye. She gives me a wince and turns slightly away from me, showing me her back. Oh God. She has three very large raised scars slashed across her back. I mouth “what did you do?!” “I’ll explain later, it isn’t anything super bad, I promise.” She mouths back. “My turn” I mouth to her, and point to my face, and the tattoo covering a third of my face then curling down my neck and spilling onto my chest. “It’s not a tattoo” I mouth to her, “I’ll explain later too.” She nods as the bot makes it’s way over to me. I stand still as it circles me a couple of times, beeps at me cheerily (how does a bot sound cheerful??) and starts over to Alein. She copies what I did, except while the bot is nearer her back she sticks her tongue out and crosses her eyes. I almost choked attempting to not laugh at her antics.

Finally the bot deemed us thoroughly scanned and left through the door and Dorian informed us that we could redress in the clothes that had been left for us. Dang, I hadn’t even realized clothes had been left, but our previous clothes had been neatly folded and packaged. I quickly donned the clothes left for me, somehow fitting exactly as they should. Grey sweatpants, a white almost but not quite skintight t-shirt, covered by a matching grey zippered hoodie. I was also provided with comfortable leather lace-up hiking boots with white fur on the inside. I grabbed my old clothes and turned around to see Alein in her provided clothes, grey skin-tight leggings, leather fur lined hiking boots similar to mine, but wearing an almost skintight white tank top and carrying a plain white drawstring hoodie. She looked breath-taking! How had I not noticed this as soon as I could see?!?

We were then led back into the circle room and went down one of the hallways, made a couple turns and were through another circle room containing a staircase leading up, one leading down, and five hallways with doors up and down them. We went up the staircase, and were led to a medium sized rectangular room with a fireplace at one end with a large rug and couches forming a semi-circle around it. A couple of tables with comfy looking armchairs around them were scattered around the room, with a few couples and trios sitting playing games or talking. Some looked up and waved, obviously we weren’t an abnormality. They were all dressed in similar fashions and colors as us, and now that I think about it, so was Dorian. He led us to a room, and I was guessing these were dorms. Ours had a small, cozy looking living area and a small counter, sink, and fridge. Two doors led off one side of the room and shelves and bookshelves lined the last side. While gazing at the shelves, Alein’s mouth hung open. “A reader Celeana?” Dorian asked. She walked over to the books and ran her fingers over the spines. “Yes” she said, “and I’ve missed it so much.” Dorian informed us we would have plenty of time to settle in and Celeana could have plenty of time to read. Celeana crossed the room to me and whispered to me, “If I’m reading never ever interuppt me unless you are dying or something is on fire or another emergency.” I nodded, not needing threats to encourage me to obey. Dorian directed us to the two bedrooms. He recommended “Celeana” take the bedroom on the left for the bookshelves and I the right for the taller shower. He told us to settle in, and don’t be afraid to mingle. The people in our dorm area are newer as well, so they understand what you are feeling as well.

We sit together in the big room at a table, after ordering some tea through the tubes Dorian showed us so we wouldn’t have to wander around and wind up lost to get food. This place is actually way more updated than the rest of the world, what with people being able to see and all. “So, your scar?” Alein asked. “Before the Great Blinding my younger brother had cancer. He died only days before it hit. He had already lost his vision from the cancer though. During chemo and his episodes, and anytime I visited him, I would tell him it would be ok. That’s how I knew he was going to die. Every time I told him, “you’re gonna be ok” the scar grew. I think it became like this, all fancy and fooling people into thinking it was a tattoo before the blinding, because him being ok would have been a fairytale ending, so I got a fancy fairytale tattoo-like scar to mock me for my lies.” I told her, tears lining my eyes by the time I finished. “Yours?”

“I grew up in an abusive household until I ran away at 12 with my best friend Lysandra, who was in a similar situation as I was. My mom wasn’t usually around because she was afraid of my dad. My father... did many things. Raped me, beat me... broke me.”

A tear slipped from my eye.

“The beating started when I was 6. He was drunk most of the time, and nothing I did would ever be enough for him. He hated me, hated that he had a daughter. I was supposed to be a boy. He hurt my mom because I wasn’t born a boy like he wanted. I would receive beating almost daily, but only in the places other people couldn’t see. My back was his favorite.”

Another tear fell.

“He raped me for the first time at 9 years. Told me I had been a terrible child. That I deserved it. That was the night I got the beginnings of my first major scar. As he raped me, hurt me, I told myself I deserve this. The pain, the hurt, the taking of what little innocence I had left, I deserved it. When the first cut slashed down my back, he asked what I said. I told him that I was trying to tell myself that I didn’t deserve this. A tiny cut split on my scalp, where he wouldn’t notice, almost if whatever makes it happen knows it must stay hidden. Looking over me, seeing no more fresh cuts, he believes me. At a price. I can’t hide that scar. Soon after the first time, he started bringing his friends over as well. I hated myself. I wanted to die.”

Tears follow the lines of my scar down my face.

“As time went on that scar grew, and after me and Lysandra ran away, a new one started to form. She knew my story, and eventually others we befriended learned about it, from me of course. They would ask, ‘how are you?’ and ‘are you ok?’ I always said, ‘I’m ok.’ And every time, that scar reopened.”

More tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over.

“The last scar started when my mom reappeared to come see me where I was living with three other friends at 14. She said she wanted to apologize, that my father was gone, that she wanted to be a good part of my life. I told her I believed her. Hence the scar. By then I was almost used to the feeling of scars splitting open but that one hurt more than either of the others did the first time. Except this new scar? It doesn’t bleed. I disguised the tears of pain as those of relief and happiness. At 15 when a boy came along, said he only wanted to be friends, that’s all, I told him I believed him too. The scar split. No blood, only pain. I disguised those tears because in our new, even more screwed up world, friends can be hard to come by. He believed me. Thought I fell for him. Then a month later, he laced my water with a drug, and he raped me too. Just like my father did. Ever since, people think I believed them, but I trust few people these days. I don’t know how many more betrayals I can take before I break completely in two.”

The tears spilled out of my eyes, creating wet streaks down my face. The hurt and sadness from her story evident on her face. “I won’t ask if you trust me or not, I won’t do that to you. Promise.” Now tears ran down her cheeks, glistening in the firelight.

And in that moment, I saw peace settle over her body, and she whispered into my chest as she leaned into me, “Thank you.” And this time, I think she actually believed.