Sakura-Scout

Knowing that the twisted, demented mind of Sylar will no longer torment her family and loved ones should lift the weight that has settled over her heart. Watching Sylar's body burn should ease the knots that have worked their way into her shoulders and back. Listening to both of her fathers talk about creating a new Company, one with the purpose to connect and understand rather than hunt and dissect, should quiet the nagging little doubts at the back of her mind. But it doesn’t. Peter knows this, feels it just as strongly as she does. It hurts that Peter cannot offer her the comfort and safety she so desperately seeks, cannot ease her w

He watches her eyes linger on him; not him (foolish, naïve, unblemished), but the older him (jaded, cynical, scarred). There is something possessive in her ash-green gaze as they trace over the forever still body, and something so terribly painful (grief, regret, longing). Her face is cold and steely when she turns to the living and breathing him, eyes offering this younger version nothing but vengeance, hate and something so dark, it’s as black as ink or tar; grasping, consuming. No. Darker. As she drags the scalpel across his vulnerable flesh, he closes his eyes to escape hers. He tries to picture the sad, but vibrant light her

"You're not meant to be a designer," she said with a soft smile, warm, comforting and kind. It tore out the girl's heart with its sincerity. But she kept quiet, just like she always did, and made a small note about the crossing of the zippers on the new design; they would stiffen the material and make it bulk awkwardly. The zippers were for a jacket, an asterisk made out of the teeth-like fasteners adorning the front with other zippers used as the lining for the designs made out of fabric. It was a nice idea, it really was, but mostly on paper and impractical off, even more so than fashion usually was. She didn't voice this to her companion

The anger returned. She had been so sure that she had found a kindred spirit in him. His eyes spoke volumes of what he felt, of the great sorrow he held and she had wanted nothing more than to tell him that whatever had happened to him was not his fault. She didn’t know that those sharing his blood line were the same that killed thousands, millions and scared even more emotionally and physically. She didn’t know that his eyes were the same golden orbs as the Fire Lords of the past who sought power and blood. The pain returned. But he was not the one who did those things. She had heard that the young Fire Nation prince had been e

Hey, you know that tingly feeling you get, almost like you're falling? I'm afraid of it. It always comes when I'm the cockpit of my Pteras, flying high in the sky. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and energy surges through my whole body. It makes me want to do something, something that'll blow everyone away. I can't handle that kind of feeling. It's not my nature to be aggressive or bust my way through into a fight. For crying out loud, I'm a strategist not a fighter. So when I'm in the midst of a brewing battle, I fall. Well, not physically fall, but ... It's almost like I'm falling into myself … And I have no control over it. I'm not