one6two6: (mov: im&y)
[personal profile] one6two6
Title: "Bad Timing"
Fandom: Blue Bloods
Characters: Bliss
Rating: G
Word count: 662
Summary: Gen. Strays from canon, spoilers up to Book 2. Bliss learns a few things by manner of discovery.
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Disney/Hyperion and all its employees. This is a work of fiction for fiction and it couldn't be further from the intention of infringement if it tried.

The Blue Bloods, on a day-to-day basis, searched for meaning in exemplary forms. Reaffirmation, entry back into heaven, anything that resembled salvation.

Bliss Llewellyn searched for something close to solace.

To her surprise--and really, who wouldn't have been--she found it in Mimi Force. Sort of.

They were sitting in her room, pretending to brush up on their Pre-Calc when truthfully, they were doing anything but. A party needed to be planned. Secrets to be kept.

This is what it's like to be a Force Twin, Bliss thought. She was Azrael, but not to Bliss. Not really. In fact, no one could ever know, but every now and then, she sees her cry her eyes out. None of it came clearly, but a few things did. In all honesty, she wasn't even sure if she was supposed to know.

She cries about the same thing each time--Jack this, Abaddon that--and how it may seem he never loved her back, not in the way she loves him, or how she possibly could've loved anything. Normally she'd let it happen, keep her distance. During the quieter moments, and just because she wanted to, Bliss would attempt comfort, a few meaningful rubs on the shoulder and that was it, the two of them in her bedroom. Sometimes she'd dare inch closer, trying for an embrace simply because that's what everybody does, and sometimes Mimi would let her--silence rendering no protest.

But the thing was, no matter what he did or didn't do, she never stopped. It took Bliss a while, but she came to the realization that she'd misunderstood their blood ties, that it extended beyond any possible illusory familial histories. What's good for the rest of us, isn't what's good for them, and no one should get in the way of that.

Us? Seriously? she admonished herself. She needn't be reminded (by the circles running rampant in her own head, no less) that she's far from anyone relatable, let alone a fellow Blue Blood. This was extremely unfortunate. She knows what friends are supposed to be like, that her inherent supportive nature is what's right and true. She wants to belong to the Four Hundred, she did not sign up to be Rosemary's Baby. She didn't choose this.

Traitor. That's what she called the Man in the White Suit. She yelled and cursed her implausible situation, to which he contested that he's not the problem, that she now essentially can do anything she wants to. So she did.

She saw everything. And starting with her peers, she found more than she bargained for. Schuyler, sometimes being more human than she should be, showed all her cards so blatantly. She failed to understand the importance of a little loneliness here and there. That girl doesn't stand a chance. Her red blood seeped through like prematurely picked fruit and every Silver Blood in existence was ready to pounce.

Mimi, she concluded, was actually quite adorable. The efforts she undergoes to keep her fa├žade or whatever are astoundingly impressive. At times, Bliss sometimes forgets how much power was held over her. Every bout of self-pity would be a moment erased from Bliss' memory. That was why all her breakdowns remained so murky. Just with a simple flick of her wrist as an act of dismissal and a few words uttered under her breath, Mimi managed to torture herself without anyone knowing about it. The few things she did to get what she needed remained indecipherable not too long ago. She can recall it all at this point, but it's completely useless; memory control was made for more than a manipulator, it's her greatest asset. A deadly weapon, if you will. It was used often, starting with her own self.

Bliss sat comfortably knowing the ones she kept closest to her after all this time had either been driven mad or proven to be predictably weak. Soft. Poor, servile vampires won't even see it coming. She was going to win this war, easy as cherry pie.

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