Orion
It was late that night, everyone seemed to be in bed, but Orion could not sleep. He went downstairs in his pajamas and dressing gown, wheezing slightly as he walked down the stairs. He wanted some warm milk. He shuddered slightly as he walked through the hotel. Because of his gift of Sight, he could see wherever blood had been spilt, and there was a lot in this place. It frightened him. ANd he couldn't understand while their family hadn't welcomed him with open arms. Mommy was. . . different from everyone else, he knew that. Her brain worked differently, and sometimes she said things, and thought things that made no sense. Orie knew that some people called his mother crazy, but he didn't think of her as crazy. He thought of her as sweet, wonderful, and loving.
He got his milk, and warmed it up, and then he magicked some crayons and paper onto the table. He drew pictures of the Hyperion, of all the terrible things that had happened since it was built. He drew pictures of Angel being hanged, and Fred being sad. He didn't want her to be sad, he liked her. She was slightly crazy, which comforted him, like Mommy. He drew pictures of Doyle, and of Cody in pain from a vision, and of Cordy's out-of-body experience. He drew pictures of Connor being taken away, and then being brought back, to lose the one person he truly loved.