HAPPY FAMOUX FRIDAY!!
Before we begin, I just wanna highlight an incredible person: JediLovegood has a story on her page that's full of hand drawn polaroids of the Famoux members!! And they are GORGEOUS!!! I've legit made the photo of Till my phone background, I can't stop looking at it. So, Corianna, THANK YOU!!
We've got a few new character in here, so keep your eyes peeled... They could be YOU!
And remember, if you want to be a character, PLEASE not only comment your name when I ask you to, but be *engaged* with the story! I notice I get a lot of people commenting their names, but a lot of those people don't comment anything else past that.
If I don't feel like I know you based on your reactions and commentary, I won't be able to get a good feel for how I should write you! What if I made you Kaytee's best friend, and you actually hated Kaytee? I wouldn't know it unless you were commenting, "Ugh, shut up Kaytee" under all of her dialogue or something, lol. If you love a character, I'm gonna try to bring you closer to them! So please, stay engaged, you lovely future character!
Okay, with that being said, let's get into it:
emeray
Holding the golden note in between my two hands, I feel so dizzy, I swear I must be sleepingââlost in a dream of falling from the top of an eighty foot building, twirling and spinning all the way down. No rational thoughts, no chance to prepare for the impact.
I steady my gaze on the final few words:
We are here to free you. Soon.
Reality hits hard like concrete. DEFED could be meaning any number of potential things when they say they'd like to free me, but given the past few tragedies we've faced, their methods seem clear. Painfully clear.
"No," I state flatly. Or, attempt to state flatlyâmy voice shakes too much to qualify as still. "They don't mean that. They wouldn't... They wouldn't just say it outright."
I get up from the ground, pacing the expanse of my room. All the while I mutter to myself about how wrong I am in thinking my death is imminent, how there has to be a different meaning I'm just not getting yet. It does absolutely no help in calming my state of panic.
While talking to myself only heightens the alarm, I know I can't tell anybody yet. Maybe Chapter a little later. Maybe all the members, actually, in case one of them received the same thing. But when will I possibly get to do that, with everyone on different schedules? I don't think I've properly had a conversation with Kaytee or Till in over a month now.
When I swing my bedroom door open, hands shaking like vibrating plates against the knob, the first person I run into is perhaps the last I wanted to see.
"Emeray!" Norax coos.
My disappointment comes out before I can stop myself: "Oh."
"Oh? I just get an 'oh' after all these weeks?" She pulls me into a massive hug. "My darling lumerpa, I missed you!"
As she squeezes me tightly, I try my best to relax; ease my panic before she gets a whiff of it. If I'm not in tip-top shape whenever I'm around her, she instantly launches into a lengthy speech about how ungrateful I am. It doesn't matter if I seem upset about Foster, or scared about DEFEDââno, it all translates to annoyed at Norax, and thus, ungrateful for the work she's put in for me. Lately it's felt like walking on eggshells around her.
She pats my cheek, her voice sickly saccharine. "How was the reshoot?"
If the shoot went poorly, she wouldn't want to hear the complaints. The only acceptable answer here is:
"Great," I say.
"Great!' she parrots.
"Yeah. The scenes needed that rewrite."
"So glad to hear it."
"Yeah."
"Yeah!"
And then, the lull of silenceââa lull that has gotten all too common for us. She looks off into the hallway, searching for something to say. For a moment, my heart takes a break from beating out of its chest to ache. We don't know each other anymore. Not like we used to.
"So." Norax clears her throat and pats my cheek again, unaware of the turmoil going on in my mind. "Have you checked the Analytix yet?"
"I just got home," I tell her.
"Shall we?"
I deadpan. "I just got home."
"Oh, but I'm eager to see your stats!"
"I just need a few more minutes," I say. "I need to... Unpack my stuff."
"Unpack? We have people to do that for you, Emeray! You know that! Come along, now!" She starts pulling me away from the door, not taking my no for an answer. The usual rigamarole.
The words from the note flash before my eyes in a blink:
You have always been caged.
A surge of fear shoots through my body. I left the DEFED note, not to mention all the Fitz Gin labels and other clues, out on the floor.
"Um, can... Can Gerald bring my things up?" I ask.
But Norax doesn't even have to respondââjust as I finish my question, Gerald appears at the top of the stairwell, my suitcase in hand. He gives me a knowing nod, and I have to refrain from sighing in relief. Gerald is the one and only person working for Norax who has enough respect for me not to pry.
Norax leads me through the Metropolix with her fingers firmly gripping the sleeve of my jacket. I find it odd that she's opted for this instead of something more loving, like holding my hand, or linking her arm in mind. This right here reminds me of how my mother used to pull my older sister Brandyce along the sidewalk if she had given her attitude. Brandyce and mom never did get along well.
When we reach the ever-too-familiar dark steel door, my stomach plummets. For all of the Famoux, going to the Analytix has become a challenge since the Fishbowl. If Norax isn't forcing me in, I usually try my best avoid the Analytix at whatever cost. It doesn't show the Volxsturm like it used to, before the Darkening, but there's always the tugging, ominous feeling that it's going to suddenly come up again, comparing the surviving five of us all on an ever-moving scale. Not a visit goes by that, when the voices from the public cease, we don't hold our breaths until we might just pass out waiting to see if it shows.
Such a horrid invention, pitting us all against each other in a neatly numbered list. As I walk in today, I feel eerily aware of the fact that this horrid invention might truly be making its comeback.
Norax takes in a deep breath. "Didn't you miss this place?"
I wrack my brain trying to find a more positive spin on No, I didn't.
"I mean, it's always a little bit nerve wracking to invite the possibility of hearing people judge you. I don't think you really get used to it."
She laughs, like what I've said is cute. "If we can even hear a peep of judgement over all your usual glowing reviews, I'll be surprised."
With that, I step into the glass half of the room, taking a seat on the single metal bench in the center. It doesn't take long before my presence triggers a million simultaneous voices. At the control table on the other side of the room, Norax sifts through the jumbled noise, bringing a single thread to the forefront:
It appears to be three different teenagers, although it could be more. All their voices have a similar timbre.
"Have you seen the pictures of them?"
"Oh my god, YES. That movie looks insane!"
I piece together that they must be looking at paparazzi shots from the reshoots for Onward Train. I can't help but find that humorous, since insuring there be no cameramen lurking in the shadows was a big initiative among the security on set. But no matter what, a picture always surfaces.
"It's so odd seeing the two of them around each other, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like, Chapter and Emeray never hang out."
"Wow, you're right. I feel like you never see them together."
"They must hate each other or something."
"I could totally see that."
I shift in my seat. Would they want us to hate each other? Or, on the off chance that they found out about us, would they like it? I don't get to hear if the conversation goes in that direction, however. Their voices are swiftly replaced by the sounds of a news broadcast just beginning. I recognize it immediately: It's Evening Eldae with Maisie and Angela, a station that I hear quite a lot when I'm at the Analytix this time in the day. It also happens to be the same station I'd watch when I got home from school back when I was Emilee. The full-circle nature of it all is not lost on me.
"Good afternoon, Eldae. Among one of our top stories tonightââChapter Stones and Emeray Essence have just arrived back in their home country Betnedoor after spending a few weeks in Notness filming a movie."
"That's right, Maisie. I hear we have footage of their arrival?"
As the audio of crowds yelling and cameras snapping fill the expanse, I frown. Why would this be one of the top stories for an Eldae news source? It would make more sense for Betnedoor, since we just came back. But there is a long list of things Eldae could likely be reporting about that they aren't giving proper attention. Have they even made an announcement about Dalton being missing? One of their own, gone?
"Looks quite chaotic out there!"
"Could you imagine that many people showing up outside your house?"
Their voices fade out, welcoming in a couple making small talk on their drive. Several others of the same nature follow suit, offering nothing much more than a few comments about how excited people are for both Onward Train and my birthday, which is coming up in a matter of days now. As I've heard from today, Delicatum is expecting it to be not the party of the year, but the party of the century.
Each time a conversation fades out, my breath catches in my throat at the mere anticipation that DEFED will speak. They've taunted me in the pastââwhat's stopping them from doing it again? What's stopping them from slipping in a quick, "Did you like the note we sent?" among the mundane gossip?
When the voices cease completely, I wait a whole minute before rising from my seat. No Volxsturm appears. At first, I feel relieved, but then the pit in my stomach resurfaces. Of course there's no Volx, I think to myself. They already made their decision.
Norax gives me a devilish grin as I step through the glass door. "So tell me. Did you hear anyone critiquing you?"
I hesitate for too long. She lets out a laugh, gesturing to a series of charts and graphs on the screen in front of her.
"I told you, lumerpa. The people just like you. Consistently."
"Someone accused Chapter and I of hating each other."
She furrows her brows. "What happened on set?"
"We were actually in the same place at the same time," I say. "Apparently that's a foreign concept to our fans."
"You're both busy people. They understand."
"Well, what if they don't?" I ask. It's a stupid battle to fight, but I take the chance anyway, just in case some miracle sprouts right out of the marble floor. "What if you making us never interact makes even more people think we hate each other? Do you really think my reputation could stay put against Chapter's admirers attacking me?"
Norax rolls her eyes. "I think they would be much less keen on you two being in love than they'd be on you two being enemies."
"They want Chapter to be happy. They like the relationships he's been in!"
"I'm not having this argument with you again, Emeray. I'm tired of it."
"Butââ"
"ââI've gone to great lengths to give you the best. To give you a world that loves you after all those years of feeling like the world hated you. And somehow you have to get nitpicky about the way I do it."
I want to say more, but I know it's futile. She's already seen me as ungrateful, and there's no winning that argument now. Because when it comes down to it, no matter what, I do owe her my life. My entire life as Emeray Essence. It is her largest, most formidable card, and she plays it with dexterity. She always wins.
"They're also excited about my birthday," I say, changing the subject.
Norax brightens. As she launches into a long explanation of how my party's prep is going, my mind can't help but wander back to that golden piece of paper in my bedroom.
If this had been a few months ago, before everything with Foster, before the contract with Cartney, I probably would've told Norax about this note as soon as I finished the last line. I would've been up and out of my room before I could process what I'd read. I would've grabbed her hand, tears brimming in my eyes, and asked her to fix it. To make things better like I always expected she would for me.
If I wanted to, I could very well tell her. Interrupt her description of the glittery red streamers and tell the whole truth. After all, there is no footnote at the bottom of the paper telling me I can't like DEFED notes in the past. There is nothing stopping me.
And yet, I don't think I can. Our relationship has become the most archaic form of boss and employer: She tells me where to go, what to do, and I go there and do it, even if I don't want to. Not wanting to is not an option.
You have always been caged.
Chances of getting to choose what I, and I alone want are rare to come by. And right now, standing in front of Norax Geddes and her achingly forced smile, I don't want to tell her about the note from DEFED.
So I don't. And I won'tâânot until I know what I'm dealing with here. While Norax might launch a full scale investigation, guns blazing, I know better. DEFED is a group that works in the shadows. They gave me that message because they wanted to talk to me, not to a wall of guards and officers banging down their doors.
Norax sends me back to my room to change before my usual, scheduled dinner date with Cartney. My clothes are all neatly put away in their place, and the note and the gin labels remain on the floor. Untouched, undisturbed. Just as I left them. On my way out, I give Gerald a nod of gratitude, which he returns with a smile.
Stepping outside, I'm greeted by a hoard of snapping lights and excited shouts for me to Look here! And here! I brace myself, pasting on the calmest smile I can muster. As much as it terrifies me to be out in the open, I have the odds in my favor: DEFED has only killed Famoux members during Darkenings, when there's an audience that puts this crowd to shame. If they wanted to get me, they'd get me then.
It's been three months since the last Darkening. Reports have been calling it an anomaly, a drought.
I can only hope this drought continues.
xxx
There she is! Chapter two! Tell me your thoughts, please! So sorry that this chapter is shorter than the last. To be fair, chapter one was a bit of a monster. Almost 5,000 words! Goodness!
Emeray's being a little chaotic over here not telling Norax about the threat, but pshhh she's still a teenager and this is her rebellious phase. It's all working towards my greater trainwreck later on. Oh god, I'm so excited for you to get to it!
HERE ARE THE WONDERFUL READERS WHO BECAME CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER:
The magnificent Angela (-ItsCalledReading-) is one of our news anchors for Evening Eldae, and the exquisite Maisie (-carpenoctem-) is our other news anchor! I paired them together because I like how both their usernames appear to be embedded in little dash marks. I thought that was very cute.
Note to Maisie and Angelaââyou two will be recurring characters! I am so excited for you to discover the ultimate plot twists you're a part of. Let's GO, Spooky Eldae News Show Emeray Used to Watch as Emilee! Let's GOOO!!!!
Now, please comment to me your story so I can add it to the fancy new reading list on my profile. It's also a slower day in the office for me, so I'd appreciate some reading material from you!
Also, if you've followed me on Instagram within the last few weeks (kassandra_tate), PLEASE comment somewhere that you came from The Famoux, because I'm afraid I'm not following the right people and instead following random accounts I don't know. And I don't want you to think I was so totally rude for not following you back, omg.
Also I just wanna point out that Taylor Swift's new song You Need To Calm Down has a line that goes Snakes and stones never broke my bones and the amount of people who messaged me about it MADE MY HEART SING!!! AHHHH! I FEEL SEEN, TAYLOR! CHEMERAY FEELS SEEN!!!!
Okay. That's all for today. This time next week? Sounds good. Remember:
Sticks and Stones may break your bones, but haters make you famoux. Stay classy, stay classix.