//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Shard of Magic [Worm crossover] // by blake0831 //------------------------------// *BRING!* 'Finally!', Taylor sighed in relief as the final bell rang, her body relaxing and slumping a bit before straightening and correcting her poise. 'Why did she even bother coming?''Wasting her time...''Looks so ugly even the Merchants won't take her...' Packing away her books and stationery, she ignored the whisperings from Emma's little hanger-ons and cronies. She can tell now a days that they themselves don't believe what they're saying, only to butter up to Emma. That bit of insight surprisingly helps. Like water sliding off a duck's back. At least they stop harassing her with random spitballs and glue pranks after Taylor started showing a somewhat uncanny ability to dodge or avoid the worse of them. A recent one involving a pale, wide-eyed Madison, still holding the incriminating straw; getting glared by a buff football jock after accidentally hitting him with a spitball that Taylor dodged (itchy left ear lobe!) by suddenly ducking to pick up a pencil. That avenue close off, most of them retreated to whispering earshot insults. Trying practically anything they can think of to get a desired reaction from her. As if someone like her deigns to entertain lowly mutterings like that. Taylor shook her head as she stood up and made her way out. Odd thoughts and feelings like that kept popping up at random these days, after The Locker. Like now. In front of her, Emma and her lackeys are bunched up at the doorway, casually obstructing the classroom exit, a smirk plastered on Emma's face. A part of her wanted to slouch, to retreat back into her hoodie. But instead, she straightened up her back and walked with a outward confidence she not quite reflecting inwards towards the gaggle. Pausing in front of them, she glared at them in the eyes, taking advantage of her slightly taller frame to loom over them. "Please move aside." She said in an even voice. Some of the girls started to quail uncertainly and inched back. Emma however, with her facade cracking slightly but still in place, said sweetly, "Oh, Where are you going in suc-" Not letting Emma finish her sentence, Taylor abruptly move forward with a polite and curt "Pardon Me". Surprised at the suddenness of her barging through, Emma and her cohorts scrambled back to avoid being bulldozed over by the suddenly assertive girl, Taylor's unblinking, unnerving glare staring Emma into stunned silence until Taylor had passed her. Taylor had emerged into the hallway when she suddenly sidestep (Twitchy right shoulder!) to one side, turning Sophia Hess's attempted shoulder-check into an ungraceful stumble into the nearby lockers. "Careful, Sophia. You'll bruise rather easily.", Taylor dispassionately remarked at the glaring dark-skinned girl. Emma started to retort something, but Taylor had already gracefully maneuvered through the crowd of students before Emma could get a second word within earshot. Not that Taylor could care much these days about what Emma says. She certainly didn't value any loyalty from their shared childhood. When she exits the school, she brightens a little at the sunshine and open air, free from the crowds. Now she can get to what's more important right now. Figuring out exactly what sort of cape she is. Time for research! ************************** Taylor jerked awake from her light doze as the bus pulls up at her stop. Strange, she mused. Despite her sudden urges to get fitter (restlessly waking up at dawn and ended taking up jogging and doing pushups to work off the sudden excess energy), she would find herself taking quick catnaps whenever she's inactive, like sitting in the bus. As she made her way from the bus stop to her house, Taylor's heart can't help but lighten up at the sight of pairs of birds flying through the air. Despite this is rather dismal Brockton Bay, everything seems to be more... vibrant some how. Especially at her home's garden where she started tending to it every now and then. Smiling at an inquisitive squirrel on a nearby tree branch and waving back cheerfully at the neighbours, she skipped over the fixed front step and entered the empty home. Her dad won't be back home until evening. Her Dad... Things are.... slightly awkward, yet improving (she guess?) with her dad, Taylor mused as she went through the living room and up the stairs. Ever since she had came home dazed in middle of the night, still covered in the grunge of...The Locker, to a worried Danny. At first, a large part of her resisted the idea of telling him about the bullying, to fend off his increasingly demanding questions as she cleaned herself, to keep to herself, that he cannot help.... But; a part of her urged; He's family. Even though he's been distant ever since... Mom's car accident, he still cares for you, his only child. At least he should know... She had broke them and told him nearly everything. Her Dad sat by her side through the whole thing. There had been some anger at some of the abuse, dismay at the revelation that Emma was one of the main ring leaders and a slowly simmering temper at the disregard by the teachers and principal of the bullying campaign. For a few days, he had stormed Blackwell's office demanding reparations. To his teeth-gritting anger and Taylor resigned dismay, the school refused to act, citing lack of 'credible' evidence, though the school did consent to give her a new, clean locker and replacement books (as if she kept those in there in the first place these days) in a measure to pacify the Heberts. Her Dad was nearly about to do something violent to the administrators, but Taylor gradually managed to calm him down. He's already looking into alternatives to get Taylor out of there, such as school transfers or applying for G.E.D. In the meantime, both him and Taylor have to bear it. At least, things are.... improving between the two. They're talking more these evenings during dinner, and Taylor had started taking up baking pastries, Her Dad had joked that if she decides to flunk out of Winslow, she'll have a future as a good baker; that and he might have to start watching his weight. A part of Taylor couldn't help but feel a tad suspicious about her sudden baking skills. Does it count as a Master effect if her pastries improve the consumer's mood? Danny did say his coworkers seems a tad more lighthearted after he shared them... Taylor shook her head of the random thought as she made her way down to the basement, having deposited her school things in her room and grabbed her cape journals from it's hiding place. Her cape powers... Honestly, she had wanted to tell him about them that first night, but her doubts held her back. Did she really have powers? Powers even worth mentioning? Perhaps she should research and investigate first.... Taylor took a deep breath after placing her book on the basement worktable and flipped it open. As far as she can tell, she qualifies perhaps as a 'grab-bag' type cape, having multiple minor powers. Known examples via PHO Wiki includes the villainous mercenary Circus and the independent rogue Privateer. So far, she had some sort of minor Thinker (why she suddenly could tell if someone is telling a lie? And those twitches? And social cues?), Shaker (Two pencils and an eraser idly orbited her open right hand), Brute (memories of the dented and barely on its hinges Locker door flashed through her mind), Blaster (a guilty glance at the scorch marks and small craters littering a cleared basement wall. She now really have to be careful where she points her fingerguns or do an air-punch...) and maybe a suspected Master (induced cheerfulness through baked goods? Is that even a thing?) powers. Still, not too impressive. Certainly not in the scale of, say Dauntless or Legend (but a part of her nagged at her at that...). She took another deep breath as she stood up and held out her arms before her. If she could do this trick (why did a loud part of her insisted on calling them spells? Does she want to be a Myrddin fangirl something?), then maybe she'll have something worth telling her dad. Her face scrunched up in concentration, her mind focused on a shield (should be safe enough and hopefully show-worthy enough...), feeling the energy(?) within her move. As the last few nights before, a ball of soft teal light gradually forms between her cupped hands. 'Focus' her mind whispered. 'Focus on the shield....' The ball wobbled and distorted in shape, one part of her mind for some reason fixated on an arm mounted shield like that on a knight. Another part was sort of on auto-pilot, running through.... chanting? incantations? formulae? something she could barely perceived. Until there was a mental 'ping!' and the energy she was focusing(?) stabilized. She slowly and hesitantly opened her eyes. Hovering just off her left arm, is a slightly translucent yet solid, teal coloured kite shield.