child's play (hamish)

[Deleted]

Everything about this entire school made Dylan feel claustrophobic and trapped, it's walls constantly attempting to strangle him as he walked through the hallways and classes, his life one boring monotone that never ended. Occasionally he would try to wrap his mind around the purpose of what they were doing here besides training him and his fellow "mutants" how to behave and serve, disbelieving that this was all there was to it. What could he possibly do with his ability that would make his future master or the government happy? How in the world was he, Dylan Yates, a weapon or a servant just by the fact that he could project what he saw in his mind? Sure he could easily cause everyone here pain and suffering if he wanted to, but didn't he always feel really sick afterwards along with a whole mound of guilt weighing down on his conscious as well? No there had to be more than this, otherwise his father and aunt would have never let them take him away from them. Hadn't his father always told him that he loved Dylan every night and that he would never let anything hurt him? The boy trusted his only remaining parent enough to know that he meant what he said and that if he was here, he must be placed in this school that he hated so much for a good reason and that his tad would never let them hurt him. 

Still, even with the comforting hope that his father was helping him and that he would hopefully see him one day again, Dylan still found it in himself to produce the rare and metallic-tasting emotion of hate. It was cool hatred, the kind that could be truly cruel and scary at points and he executed his display of it all with an easy grace that hardly befitted a thirteen-year-old. Sure sometimes he lost control of his restrained emotions, but that was always re-enforced with the punishment that was dished out for these sudden outbursts and he was usually able to right himself back to his normal calm if not distant self before he caused too much damage and let everyone know how much trouble he actually caused. It wasn't like they didn't figure out most of it anyway. It was always something petty that gave him away, not being careful enough with choosing places with no witnesses, forgetting a personal belonging at the scene, talking to someone who usually told on him, and sometimes just simply not being lucky enough to not get caught by the administration or guards. He was only a kid after all, and if these were normal circumstances, these little mistakes would be understandable. Yet, if these were normal circumstances, Dylan wouldn't be playing these games and they wouldn't be as serious as he usually made them to be in the first place. Sometimes his inability to see the world and all of it's endeavors in nothing but black and white was more of a curse than a blessing. There was no middle area in the boy's mind and everything either was or was not, prompting him to play these games and see the entire thing as one big act of survival. 

It was a ruthless game, but it was still one made by a child's mind, a child who was unfortunately thrust into something his thoughts couldn't cope with. These rules were quite simple and easy:  You must not be caught, you must play as many tricks and push the boundaries as far as you want as long you don't get caught, and you can not give in to anything but you must not let them know how stubborn you're being at the same time. These rules were often prone to being changed or added to depending on what happened as the boy experimented with just how far he could push the school rules or what happened when he did what. It was silly child's-play that he often laughed at when he was among his roommates, kidding about what a little kid he could be sometimes, but it was still his game and one he refused to give up no matter what.  

Like for example, right now. Dylan at the moment happened to be walking away from one of his "crime scenes", having just planted one of the biggest traps he had ever made in the hallway behind him. In this hallway was the slippery disaster area of as much snow as he could carry in five trips from the window he had broken accidentally but had turned into his greatest weapon, back to the hallway. Along with a few library books  sitting among all the mess, soaking up the water and positioned in a pattern that he had used as little stepping stones away from the melting snow. He was dead if they caught him, but at least he had come up with a new plan after a few weeks of being completely stumped for ideas. Speeding up until he was lightly jogging down the highway, his face was a mask of neutrality that was almost completely unreadable except for those who knew him well enough to say that this mask meant he was uncomfortable, guarded, and worried. Was he sorry though? Absolutely not. He liked the library, but he could go without for a while and anything they could do to him would just give him more information on what worked and what didn't. He was going to win this either way, and they might as well face it. Yet, he was still smart enough to have slight worrying thoughts about the punishments for the huge mess he was fleeing from and unconsciously began to speed up until he was suspiciously sprinting away from the disaster. A few more hallways and he could be safely at the dorm rooms, and Dylan began to feel free and more easy than he had felt in weeks. That is, until he slipped. Crashing down to the hard floor, the boy skidded a few feet before coming to a rest in a shocked and speechless stupor in a crumpled heap. Great, this was dignifying and marked him as an innocent bystander.



//ooc: I hope this is okay, just let me know if it isn't. Also tad= father (i think) in Welsh..

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 1010

Tags: Dylan

Everyday seemed to be the same for most mutants in The Weeds of Tomorrow academy as they were forced to live on schedule from the time they turned thirteen until they graduated at eighteen. This schedule was ignored from the first day when Hamish was brought into the school to begin shaping him into the perfect pet. When anyone went to grab for him shadows rose from the floor and wrapped around the young boy threatening to strike if anyone dared to move but an inch closer to the youth. Most time was spent pressed into a corner where he was able to observe everyone; nothing was able to surprise him like the betrayal of his mother. Any trust he seemed to have for strangers was now nonexistent as he was brought into the life the government claimed was what mutants such as him deserved. Social skills faded as Hamish was found not speaking a word to the other children, if they were lucky he would spit a harshly worded sentence at the students and teachers alike. Hamish viewed their caring words as being nothing more than a façade carefully constructed to trick him into believing their fairytales of finding someone who care for him as his mother hadn’t. Words used to him ranged from gentle, soothing to harsh, hateful to see if they could trick the redhead into believing the ways of the school. Foolish attempt after foolish attempt was made.

Eleven years has passed since Hamish was delivered to the academy and nothing of his behavior had changed for the better. Now Hamish lashed out at everyone always ready to use his shadows or his physical strength to prove himself. Teachers were instructed to call for guards when he acted out instead of punishing the child as they would with any other mutants. Anger, rage that fueled his powers seemed to grow as he found more things that increased his displeasure. Only being fifteen years old he was reported as being the hardest to handle of the mutants brought into the academy. Lights around the school had been rigged to become blinding and erase all the shadows whenever his violent side appeared.
Punishment was used on other mutants but the degree differed between the mutant’s caretaker and also the crime. The thin Scot seemed to always push the boundaries creating new punishments for himself in order to curve his behavior. Better behaved students often coward when faced with punishment but Hamish held his head high challenging any authority the humans had.

Some pride seemed to have formed knowing that he was able to show superiority from even the age of four. Teachers begged the boy to make friends with the other students instead of isolating himself and allowing his anger to grow. Students didn’t seem to agree with this notion often moving away from him whenever they saw him. It seemed his shadows didn’t need to appear to threaten anymore because his classmates and caretakers alike hated him.

Despite his enjoyment for being alone Hamish began to notice a change in the school, someone was pulling pranks. There was someone else who dared to create entertainment for themselves but he couldn’t seem to discover who it was. Whenever allowed to be on his own he moved through the halls eyes looking for any sign of a prank. Sometimes he tried to find mistakes that would show him who the culprit was but everything seemed to be done without leaving a trace. The inability to discover who had found a way to anger the guards and create some fun in the school seemed to anger the redhead. He believed the school needed some kind of fun to it if they were to be locked away and kept away from the outside where some have lived only until recently. Not all the students were like Hamish having lived within the walls so long they forgot most things found outside.
Few things were felt onto with him, one being his mother selling him into this life and the other was not knowing what became of his siblings. Their names were all Hamish had left of his siblings but sometimes he struggled to remember even that. Hair color, eye color, none of it came to mind anymore but he believed if they were brought into the school he would find them. Part of him wished for his siblings to be human and to have forgotten of him as his mom had when she abandoned him to live in the hell the government created for his kind.

Finding the other student pulling pranks was almost forgotten until his eyes saw the large piles of snow on the ground. Heat from the halls would surely melt the snow and create a watery mess. Finding the thermostat Hamish turned down the temperature in hopes of freezing the water what was already beginning to form creating an ice rink on what normally was white tile floor. Not daring to step into the mess and risk falling, shadows appeared above the watery mess creating a bridge for the redhead to use. With each step he took the previous step vanished. His shadows weren’t in place to help anyone try to avoid the snow-covered ground. There was no enjoyment not seeing someone slip in the wet mess when it seemed that was what the purpose of it was.
Turning his attention away from the mess he looked forward to see the fallen form of a student sprawled on the floor. As the shadows vanished his eyes remained black showing he was ready to strike at this student if they tried anything. The distance away from the snow he figured they weren’t someone who had fallen for the trap but possibly someone trying to run from the crime. “If ye'r th' yin wha set this trap ye micht wantae shift afore ye'r bent ower a teacher's knee.” There was a smirk pleasant showing he got some amusement thinking of someone else getting in trouble for pulling such a prank.

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[Deleted]

The awkward entanglement of limbs and body gave just enough leeway for a memory to slip through the cracks and force itself into the spotlight where it couldn't be ignored. There he was, toddler's viewpoint as he was forced to watch the upcoming water puddle that would cause the impending doom of a face plant and a bunch of tears. It wasn't like it was a boring memory, in fact it was far from the worse, but it was honestly not good timing on his ability's part to throw him into something that he had already forgotten about in the recesses of wherever his memories went to be mixed up with imaginings until there was no distinguishing between which was which and it no longer mattered. His toddler self wobbled unsteadily until he hit the water and immediately slid forward just as he done only a few moments ago. He actually remembered this, he had hit his nose so hard on the tile that he had caused blood to go everywhere, making it greatly resemble some kind of murder scene and freaking his father out in the process. Especially because Dylan had panicked because of the blood around him and hadn't permitted anyone in his line of sight to get close enough to really clean him up until he had tired himself out with his own memories. Using the leverage that he had finally recovered since the shock and mild fear at hitting the ground, he quickly got his thoughts and mind's workings under control again and paused the image right at the point where he was about to hit his face.  

The image dissipated like it had never been there, retreating back to wherever it went until it was needed and he recalled it back up. As a younger kid, Dylan had often imagined his ability as something not entirely of himself, often sort of imagining it like a imaginary friend that could be there to his beck and call but often acted up on it's own if he started panicking or got hurt. This imaginary friend had often taken the appearance of a dragon in his mind, although occasionally it would switch to sheep or even the family pet whom he had been forced to leave behind. Surprisingly he missed every last animal and would probably miss ever last piece of furniture from his past if he could remember it all. Anything that reminded him of home was a good thing, which sadly didn't appear often.  

Shaking away the last of his scattered thoughts, he began to methodically put everything back into order, going down a mental checklist as he addressed any aching body part that could possibly hurt more than a bruise. Could he move his fingers? Check. What about his toes? Yep. Okay could he move everything? It was slow progress, but Dylan was eventually satisfied and just beginning to remember that he still needed to move and get up to leave when he heard a voice that set every muscle taut and ready to spring into action. Voices meant he was in trouble and trouble was the last thing he wanted after going to all this work. He briefly thought about just pretending he didn't hear or was dead or something, but quickly ruled that option out since it probably would mean only more trouble when whoever it was found out he was only pretending.  

Wait. Stop. Calm down.  

Slowly he opened his eyes and shifted to get a better look at the boy who had spoken to him. It was little consolation that it wasn't faculty, since students were just as capable as being snitches and in some cases just as dangerous as anyone who ran the school, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with actually being in trouble yet. Bringing up a new checklist, Dylan began to run down it as quickly as he could force himself to go, searching for anything different about the boy and his options in this situation. The first things he noticed were the black eyes which caused an uneasy feeling to go through the pit of his stomach along with the smirk which didn't bode well. He also looked older and from what Dylan had heard in passing around the school, although he had never really payed attention to petty rumors, was that this kid was one that should be avoided at all costs. They had pointed him out in whispers under their breath, always shooting glances his way, even the teachers, and it didn't take much even from an underclassmen to catch on that something was seriously scary about someone who demanded that kind of attention from everybody. Figuring fighting someone like that would be out of the question, he chose the idea of using his ability in case of self-defense only and switched to the last options of running, playing innocent, or owning up to it as neutrally as he would with a teacher. Running was probably a bad idea due to his clumsy feet and awkward body that would probably just trip him up in a tangle of limbs.  

Okay so play innocent or treat the situation like he had been caught like a teacher? Sweeping his gaze across the ginger again, Dylan decided that maybe sampling a little bit of both choices couldn't hurt if it meant he got away with the entire ruse still intact. "Dun nae what ya talkin bout." He mumbled, taking the advice of the older kid anyway and scrambling to his feet. "Ef et was meh thaugh, would ya tell?" Dylan took ease in the fact that if he was to decide to snitch on him, the boy didn't even know his name and therefore probably wouldn't get very far. Nodding once as if to confirm that this was okay and that it was a safety net for himself, he began to feel a little bit more at ease and so decided to venture out a little further. "Was yer naem? Why ar yer eyes black?" He immediately bit his tongue at the last part, not meaning to let that question slip out. Well, he did need an answer, but that was definitely not the right way to frame that question.  

"Sorreh."

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 1033

Tags: Dylan

From the beginning Hamish’s memories had blurred together from his childhood, it always had seemed to be the same. He remembered He didn’t always live in Russia but few of his memories before being sold to the government remained. The only thing he seemed to remember was whenever his mother saw his green eyes begin to change to black she scolded him until the shadows returned to normal and his eyes returned to their original state. This seemed to continue throughout his years in the school once the government discovered his powers. Ink colored eyes always seemed to make others run from him or turn him a strike to his cheek. Hitting never seemed to earn the reaction his mother or the teacher were expecting, he never recoiled in fear instead the shadows would morph into spears and move over the youth ready to strike to protect him. Sometimes shadows even formed arms and held the ginger as if it were a parent protecting a child. No matter what though Hamish did appear to remember one thing, his father. Shadows often would take the shape of the male and hold onto the young mutant when he believed none were observing him. Lacking his family when he was admitted into The Weeds of Tomorrow the shadow user created a family out of his shadows, sometimes even made friends. His power always earned a negative reaction causing him to separate himself not only from the humans but the other mutant children. From the age of four Hamish had been alone, he believed this to be how things were meant to be. His mother made it clear he was an abomination, who knew if he had siblings who suffered the same fate he had. Having his father left only having him meaning surnames were worthless in finding if he had any family within the walls of the school. Loneliness would continue.

Part of Hamish wondered how other mutants felt when they used his powers. When it came to his shadows it was as if they were an extension of his own body, just as one didn’t think to make their heartbeat Hamish didn’t think to make the shadows move. They seemed to move as his emotions dictated. Sometimes he felt like the shadows were the parent he didn’t have protect the child from any harm the might come. Due to this feeling he wondered if other mutants had to think to use their powers or if it just seemed to happen like breathing. Sometimes he even wonder what the mutant was that would identify them as being mutant, his was the black eyes but each mutant appeared to have unique mutations. It was humor in a twisted way, the mutants were unique not one the same and yet the humans often told their children they were all different, special. What made the differences in humans loved while mutants were hated for being different?

Coming across the younger mutant sprawled on the floor Hamish couldn’t help but wonder what led them to have fallen. It hadn’t appeared that the blonde had slipped in the snow but yet he wasn’t sure if they just slipped on the floor. It was rare the ginger found himself fallen in the halls, shadows seemed to come to his rescue him whenever he tripped. Always righting him before his body could ever collide with the cold floor as it appeared had happened to the small blond.

It was no mystery to Hamish why the other students would whisper when they saw him but that didn’t mean he cared. He was becoming more of a wallflower, often found in a corner where he could watch everyone but felt he didn’t have to deal with the students who would whisper whenever they saw him. Teachers seemed to speak to each other about the ginger trying to create a plan to control him but other than locking him a room of light or in darkness none knew what to do with him. Cutting him off from other students would only increase his social issues. Plan after plan were used on him to see what got the reaction they wanted but they soon realized Hamish would always do whatever they scolded him for and anything he saw was positive for them was avoided. While aggressive it was realized the youth was not slow, he was quite clever and could often predict the new plan before it was even implemented. The way the blonde studied him Hamish figured that the blonde was aware of what the other students and adults thought of him. Maybe there were afraid of him too. It was rare to find someone that didn’t fear the ginger anymore; he was to blame for that.

Hearing the male try to act innocent like nothing happened Hamish only could roll his black eyes knowing the younger mutant was trying to avoid trouble. He had been wrong they knew nothing of him, Hamish would never rat another student out for pulling some prank. Seeing the government officials suffer was more fun than making life harder for his fellow mutants. The question that followed seemed to be a confession that he had set this up but he feared the trouble that would come if he had been identified as the culprit of the mess. “Dae ah keek lik' a rat? Fuck they teachers ah hawp thay break thair ankles in that!” Nodding toward the snowy mess to show what he meant a sneer came to his face showing his displease for not only being thought of as a rat but the mention of the teachers at all. “Hamish Stuart. Tis pairt o' mah mutation. It shows whin mah powers ur in uise.” Feeling no more threat the black color retreated from Hamish’s eyes revealing the bottle green color of his irises. It didn’t matter to Hamish that he had been asked such a question, not like his eyes were anything he wished to be embarrassed of. “Whit's yer name blondie?” Now standing near the male Hamish realized how he seemed to tower the youth and his body seemed to appear fragile due to how thin he was.

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