I am flesh and I am bone

It really is about time you all stopped whining, don't you think?

Warren isn't sure if he believes in callings and shit, but he knows something told him he needed to come to this place. He's not grown up under a rock, so he's heard of the Umbrella Academy, but his mom wasn't real big on encouraging him to play with the toys and all. His lunchbox had ninja turtles on it and he'd sold it to some kid for his first pack of smokes when he was... well, let's just say much too young.

Pretty much right around the time that he'd lit his first fire, and when the scent of tobacco was better than the slightly crispy leaves and wood burning smell that sometimes lingered around him.

He's not blind to who and what they are, but despite his own ability, he's never thought of himself as one of them. They're heroes. He's a kid that causes fires, and not everyone survives that.

The last few days he's been creeping around the place, talking to literal ghosts and checking things out. It's definitely different, and he's still adjusting to the whole thing where he's seen multiple people with the same face and picking up that somethings gone pear shaped and wonky. It left him hopeful, but when he did some research, his fire still happened, Baron was still in prison, and his mom... still is just answering his texts with single syllables so whatever. He might as well be here then.

Most of the time he's curled up in a padded window seat, guitar resting against his body and toying with the strings. The more focus he has, the less likely he's been to just start random fires. So he lays there, toying with the guitar and considering what it is that drew him here. Even being one of them, he just never been the saving the world type.

There was no way in hell Charlie would ever be able to make up the years spent pushing Vanya away. It was impossible. She felt that deep in her core. Deep and burning in her chest, something that regularly told her she could have done better.

She could have tried harder.

She could have been there.

She could have.

But she didn't. When it became too hard to shut emotions out, she spent time pushing others away. Vanya, included. But now, with their father alive and kicking and pissing an entire house full of already broken adults off, Charlie was going to start being a better sister to Vanya. One of the ones that needed the most love.

So the second she saw V and her father interact, she knew what she needed to do.

She needed to get out of the house for a bit, and take Vanya with her. Messages sent, Vanya asked to pick the venue, Charlie now waits in the back yard.

Several archery targets are set up, though there's neither bow nor arrow to be found, Charlie's been firing at these things for a while. There are scorch marks around the bullseye, the smell of burnt hay filling the air and Charlie tenses her hands.

One balls into a fist and fire arches outward, twisting and forming a recurve bow. In her other hand, an arrow made of white fire appears and she nocks it to the flaming string, pulling back and aiming and firing. She does this several times over until she hears something nearby and she turns to look, shooting her sister a soft but tense smile.

"I don't know about you, but I super need a lot of alcohol right now. It's tangible, all that anger and pain and distress in there." Charlie can almost see it and she doesn't want to.

"So how hammered should we get? Like on a scale of 'can probably walk maybe' to 'call an Uber driver and hate ourselves in the morning, even though it's probably worth it, all shit considered."