Lux Adair's Story

Listening to Jason fumble about his words, Lux let out a soft laugh. Taking back to her horse once more at Haru's prompt, the brunette fell silent once more. As the group moved on to the next town, Lux kept on humming. Dismounting, following the others, and finally following Tallyho around the market place, Lux still kept on humming. It was as if she was trying to distract herself, from something on her mind.

Straightening her back, her nutmeg optics darted around. Scrutinizing each and every detail of the stalls up in the marketplace, each face in the sea of people, the young Adair found herself more at ease some. Her gaze flickered back to Tallyho, noticing the peculiar stance she was taking. Titling her head and pursing her lips, Lux mused over the possible answers as to why the blonde was doing such a thing. The way she was hiding herself, using the scarf as some feeble dissimulation in the crowd. Despite the curiosity growing inside her, Lux threw out the thought of asking Tallyho why.

"Yeah... we have something similar. It's called 'toothpaste'." She answered, blinking for a few moments. "So, where should we go next?" The inquiry was spoken as she counted out four of the coin handed to her by Haru. Shuffling forward, Lux placed the required amount of currency in Tallyho's hand. A mere smile flickered on her face for a moment, just a moment. Then it was gone.

“Oh, sounds delicious,” Skylar said, a sarcastic edge to her voice. Tallyho’s description of the bland food they’d be eating only made her crave food from back home even more. Thoughts of the pizza they served back in one of the dining halls on campus filled her head, with the perfect sauce to cheese ratio and dough that was cooked to perfection…
She had to stop herself from thinking of food any longer, her stomach gurgling in protest as she followed Tallyho through the crowds.

She wondered why the blonde seemed so on edge, the girl making a point to keep herself hidden and get them through the market as quickly as possible. Despite what she’d been told, Skylar couldn’t help but pause as they passed the dancers, her gaze lingering on the dancers for a moment before she was pulled away. They might not have had much but the women looked so full of joy, seeming to glow as they twirled around in their tattered clothing. Skylar wondered if she could ever be that happy one day.

She was snapped back to reality at the sound of Tallyho’s voice instructing them to pick out clothing. The blonde seemed slightly less uncomfortable now that they’d passed the dancers, however there was still an uneasiness in the way she carried herself- did she know them? She didn’t have time to think about it much though as she was thrust towards a stand that sold clothing, the urgency in Tallyho’s voice telling them not to take too long.

Something comfortable, huh? Skylar vaguely remembered Haru mentioning something about women not wearing pants in Aires, which ruled out the article of clothing that made up 95% of her wardrobe back at home. Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, she spent a few minutes looking through the dresses before deciding on one. The dress was knee length (although considering how short Skylar was it would probably fall a little longer) and made of a soft, forest green material with a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder sleeves. She might not have been “fashionable,” but it was a nice dress, even if it was more on the simple side. Picking out a cloak for when (if) it ever got cold, Skylar exchanged a handful of coins for her purchases before turning to face the others again.

Keeping close to the group of girls, Lux kept her head down and away from the performers. What she wouldn't have given to be apart of that group, though, just having care free fun and performing! A rough sigh left her lips, her visage taking a melancholic mask. Perhaps she still clung to her old life, it was to be expected. Who could tell what would happen now?

Humming a little, she tried to distract herself from the sudden loathing pit in her stomach. The sudden pang of jealousy, of envy. The other girls in the group where apparently taking well to the land, or as well as one could at this point. Glancing through the clothing, at first Lux was at a loss to look for. A dissatisfied sound left the aspiring actress, a hand running through her dark brown locks.

"I'm in need of help..." She murmured, hoping no one really heard.

(Read my OOC post~)

Tallyho nodded to Autumn.

“I’m fine,” she hummed.

She furrowed her brows and began to sift through the many fabrics once more. Her gaze was one of critical appraisal. But had she really cared what color her dress was? Not particularly. She felt like she was perpetrating, actually. No matter how convincingly the wrinkles between her brows were knotted in focus, she could not.

She dragged herself through the trip, however. After the purchase of clothes, she took the girls to an array of booths—securing the need for food, combs, gauze, and any other essentials. She made sure to steer clear of the performance area too, and from her decision she seemed less tense.

It had taken the girls longer to arrive back at the inn. As they approached, Tallyho could make out Haru and his group hanging around the entrance. But there were two men too many. She could see that Dorian—the missing warrior from before—had made it back into the fray. He was pretty banged up, and the bruises and cuts only made him look angrier—well no—he didn’t look like an angry person, just unsatisfied. With the world.

Haru nodded to the girls as they approached.

“So everyone is set?”

Tallyho nodded.

“Alright, well let’s toss our stuff upstairs. The inn we are staying in today actually serves food in the mead hall attached, so we will just wait on their call.”

Tallyho nodded and glided to the door, maneuvering through her peers silently. She fell onto her cot and perched her elbows onto the nearby window seal. The shadows were angled at six o clock. The familiar sound of bells rang from below and the blonde could make out the more familiar band of musicians marching back to their caravan for the night.

The public was a funny entity for them. When they pranced on the stage they were beloved tokens of atmosphere and frivolity. But when they were sprinkled amongst the common grind, the public reviled them. They pressed their bodies away from them. Turned their noses up at them.

-x-

Those mead halls were no different from the taverns. Same grimy men, same grimy food, less alcohol. Maybe they were worse. But there was a hell of a lot of meat in circulation, so Tallyho couldn’t complain. She hadn’t had meat on a regular basis for such a long time—she was actually a little afraid that she had tricked herself into being a vegetarian. Naturally, she was forced to find a seat next to the other warriors. She was not particularly keen on being wedged between two people, so she planted herself at the end of a bench where she’d be guaranteed a little more wiggle room. She hadn’t really paid much attention to her surroundings that night. Haru jabbered on with the new guy, introducing him to the girls as Ryou, and guardian of March. It seemed that the other guardians were beginning to file in. but to imagine their group numbers doubled was quite unpleasant.

She focused on her food. Filling her head with musings about corn-beef stew until it was time to travel back to the inn for bed.

-x-

Haru was very serious about getting down to the mound. Tallyho had always believed that the usual time it took to get down there from the capital was two weeks. But Haru boasted that they could do it in five days. She hadn’t really believed him until she experienced the travel pattern Haru had them on. After making the additional horse purchases, they left Malboro at five in the morning and on that first run they rode until ten at night—only stopping to rest when the horses whinnied from exhaustion, hunger or thirst. Never mind the whining from the warriors—it seemed the cat guardian would only offer compassion to innocent beasts. And she was really beginning to see what he meant when he told them that after the first couple of days, life would be harder. After having them ride on the dry grassy plains from dawn to death he would expect the warriors to be ready to help Ryou and him set up camp by gathering fire wood, berries, anything that they needed for the night.

On the first night, Tallyho was put on wood duty, and with a few others, she wandered into nearby forest groves to hack a meager amount of wood with their bazaar bought machetes. On nights like those, there wasn’t much room for socialization—at least for Tallyho. By the time they were allowed their “free time” most would have been ready to die, or it was to be spent refilling water gourds in small marshes. Tallyho usually slept when given the extra time.

The first two nights were tough, but by the third night, Tallyho had lost all willingness to complain—and it wasn’t like she ever complained out loud either. If you would have asked her back then, she would have told you that she had gotten used to that regimen. But she began to fret—was that always going to be the life of a month warrior? For a group so valued by a global religion, there was a severe lack of glory in their job. Tallyho sort of imagined that instead of sleeping on the ground, people would be opening their homes for the group. That instead of running around with lame machetes, blacksmiths would be custom crafting armor and weapons for them.

But the journey wouldn’t last much longer. Haru was certainly right about his boasts. They had seen the fires of the savage conservation by the fourth sunset, with a fifth day to spare. Haru rallied up the group before they entered.

“Alright guys. You have been month warriors for a week now. Congratulations. I have to say, I’m a little proud of you guys for sticking to it this far. This lifestyle isn’t going to be easy, but we just have to make it work,” the redhead looked out at the camp—a hodgepodge of buildings and tents dotting the horizon, “Before we enter. Let me give you a little bit of a history lesson: The savage conservation is located at the southernmost tip of Solace. Solace is a lot like North America in the sense that it is a country of colonists. Unfortunately, this is the area where the native Solacian population has been pushed to live in isolation from the rest of the continent. And even then, they are not living by their own rules. Monks from the Monastery of the Sun and officers from the nearby military academy impress the religious and societal codes that colonists happily follow onto the natives. The camp is by no means high profile to outsiders. Anyone can walk in. But natives—they can’t really walk out. By consequence, some of you are going to get a few propositions. Natives might try to offer you things—whether they are fake artifacts, indentured servitude, or sexual favors in exchange for leaving the premises with you. You are by no circumstance allowed to entertain any of these tradeoffs. I know that some of you think that you know what you are doing, and that you can do whatever you want—but I’m telling you—we cannot afford to stick our necks in any political scuffles. We are only here to sleep, do you understand? As month warriors, you are supposed to do things for the good of Aires—and you will—but as of now, we cannot let the world know who you are. Until we have been ordained by the Grand Harbinger, we are nothing but imposters, and claiming to be a month warrior without being nationally recognized is a capital crime that is punishable by death. On that note, we will be going for a title appraisal sometime in the future. But we need to get your spirit weapons and begin your training with Ryou in order to make your powers strong enough to be exhibited for a formal judgment.”

Tallyho thought a lot about Haru’s speech. The idea of going to the Rose Kingdom to prove herself to the king and the council and the harbinger was nerve racking, and quite frankly, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

-x-

Haru led the band to the entrance of the camp. Two guards stood—both adorned in native garb, standing like stone men ready to spring to life. White and brown feathers were shrouded in their long dark hair. Their shoulder muscles were tanned and toughened but not nearly as much as their faces which were set in archaic frowns. Behind them was a group of non-native soldiers—two of which held muskets.

Tallyho heard about guns before but she hadn’t actually seen one. A part of her sort of wished that an angry bear would come lumbering out of the woodwork just so she could see it in action. She wondered how hard they were to maintain, or even obtain. They certainly weren’t items that freely fell into market circulation. She heard that most of them hardly ever made it out of the laboratories in Hales. But she supposed that it would make sense if the military had access to them. The other two soldiers stood closer to the entrance, glancing at the group and motioning them closer. They were unarmed.

“Passports?” a guard rumbled. He did not seem particularly happy to see them.

Tallyho looked to Haru with her brows raised. She didn’t even have legal papers. And if she didn’t have papers, there was no way in Aires that any of the earthlings had passports.

“Yes sir,” Haru hummed with a charm. His mouth bent into a sly smile, and the guard caught a glimpse of his sharp K9’s. Haru had pulled many a things out of his coat pockets over the course of this week, but he wasn’t done yet. From his pockets, he pulled a set of fine leather booklets, and handed them to the guard.

“Sorry they are all out of order. Call our names and we will come up if that makes life any easier.”

Having lived for such a long time, it would make sense if guardians knew how to forge legal paperwork. And considering the fact that Arian passports didn’t have photos, the work could be done.

The guard grunted the names of each party member and as they came through, he punched a wax seal onto each of their booklets and handed them their passports. Tallyho gingerly grasped her tiny brown booklet and took a peek inside.

Last Name: Abell First Name: Tallyho
Age: 18
Birthday: 20 February 1673 A.B (After Battle)

Height: 5'4 Eyes: Green Hair: Blonde
Nation: Solace
Seals:

Tallyho pressed her finger against the freshly dried wax seal—the image of two birds at war impressed into its red wax.

All of her information was correct—Haru had certainly done his research. But she wondered how he translated the earthling’s information in order to adapt their backstories to Aires? She imagined that since Harper was older, his birthdate would have been a few years before 1673, and that because of Gwen’s appearance, her nation of origin would have been noted as Eastern Isle. Haru must have done everything right because the guards asked no questions, and soon the entire group was well behind the camp’s timber walls.

“They have some supplies available for purchase so that we can make a little camp. I guess our next move would be to build a couple of tents and head on over to the mound,” Haru said. He perched his weathered palms on his hips and scanned the group.

(For Cirrus: Because of how this post is set up, Haru didn’t get to answer Harper. Assume that he answered no, that there are no gears. :p)

Two things surprised him after or during his anxiety attack. One: Harper behaved somewhat civilly and didn't insult him about his anxiety, but he wasn't sure if it was really a nice thing to say. "It isn't all it's cracked up to be," he mumbled. His record before arriving in Aires wasn't something he was proud of. There were few things that actually did make him proud of himself. So he really had a personal investment in this month warrior thing. He needed to prove himself to himself as well as this strange Harbringer person. The boy swallowed as he got his second surprise in his anxiety attack. Ryou touched his shoulder.

It was a very small gesture, but it did something to him. So far the only person that touched Kyle at all was Jason, and that was the only thing that annoyed him about Jason. The goofy southern kid was fun to be around and nice, but Kyle always wanted to push him away when he leaned on his shoulder. Ryou on the other hand, he didn't want to push away. He looked up to the golden eyes and gave a sad smile and slight nod. Ryou would make sure they succeeded, including the boy who was considered a juvenile delinquent at only eight years old. Kyle hadn't spent any prison time, but for half his life a lot of people were waiting for a reason to lock him up. He could feel it and sometimes even see it in their eyes when they looked at him. Ryou turned away to join Haru and Kyle ran full force into a wall where he could have his own meltdown alone, and do his best not to bother anyone else, unlike Harper on day one.

Fortunately, Kyle's rather erratic behavior kept the natives from bothering him too much, even after he regained his composure. He combed his long hair back and reset his simple ponytail, before getting up so he wouldn't look like a madman. When he finally turned back to the camp, he heard Haru call them to eat, and the shorter blond boy slumped next to the fire. Uncharacteristically, he had nothing to say. He didn't really feel that hungry either, but he figured it was in their best interests to take advantage of what they had. Two chickens and fourteen people. It wasn't much, but he picked one up, by the skewer stick holding it of course, and tore a piece or two off; and then passed it on to the person next to him.

All the synonyms for hate ran through her mind; abhor, distaste, distrust, dislike, etc. The rides were getting too long, the brunette was getting saddle-sore even before the trip was barely up. She was sick and tired and just all around done with putting up the 'flirtsy, cutesy, friendly' act. Now was the time to drop the theater mask, and pick up the face she wore when no-one bothered to care. A scowl etched itself on her face, her lips were covered in sores from all the biting on them she had done. Lux Adair was no more trying to be 'friendly' and work her way around to the top. This was not her high school. This was not her turf; most importantly, this was not her place in the sun. The actress had rested on her laurels long enough.

Sweat trickled down her back, sticking what clothes she wore to her skin. It itched, it stung, and she was certain a rash was going to break out on more than one region of her body. Spitting out what saliva had pooled in her mouth, the brunette stiffly got off her mount the moment she was able. Only to wheel around and face the disaster that was the camp. Her scowl deepened, a sneer twisted up that pretty little mouth of hers, and she was in her full element now.

"Are those piles of cloth and sticks supposed to be our tents?!" The comment was supposed to come as a soft whisper. That was not the case. Instead, it came out as a rough, searing comment, as if it had rested on the tip of her tongue during the whole ride to this dump. Rolling her neck, Lux threw a seething glare at anyone that dared to look at her for the time being. She was supposed to help people like this? Yeah. Right. The young Adair knew that, if she was to keep whatever plot she was brewing up, she would have to play on the 'apologetic, tired' young woman act later. Right now? She just wanted to eat, sleep, and get going on with the training before she decided to rip out someone's spine.

Grabbing what food was offered to her, she plunked herself down on the ground farther away from the others. Not bothering for manners, Lux ate as fast as she could. With each bite, her seething grew. With each swallow, she was certain she was going to plain out burst from having to hide any longer. This was going on long enough. She wanted to scream, to shout, to throw the biggest hissy fit she could. The food tasted horrendous. Lux could feel her stomach churning; upsetting with each meager piece of mashed up matter that slithered its way down her dry throat. She was relentless, coughing perhaps once or twice as god-knows-what slid down the 'wrong tube'. Adair hoped to whatever higher power that was ruling this forsaken land that her 'guardian' or whatever, was going to at least take it easy on her for being a woman. Or, perhaps, agreeing with her on the insidious plot she was formulating.

Lux Adair was going to mark her territory now. Nothing, and literally nothing, was going to stand in her way. Sure, her high school empire would crumble. But this, this was a bigger game. A higher crown. Something that she coveted, and it pleased nothing more than her little black heart to think about gaining. Sure, she'd have to make some enemies, and crush a few views on her. Lux didn't care. She was done with all of these sniveling, pathetic, and lesser-than-her people. A huff let the girl as she mused to herself. Any one who was brave enough to approach would get a severe chewing out. She was done with today.

Skylar wandered over to where the others had begun to congregate, plopping herself down. Placing her hands on the ground behind her, she rested her weight on her palms as she stretched her back out. She proceeded to stretch her legs out, rolling her ankles to help with the stiffness that had resulted from riding all day. Hopefully whatever Haru had in store for them over the next few days wouldn’t involve more horses- she didn’t think he poor sore ass could handle it for even another minute.

From the corner of her eye she could see Lux struggling with the chicken. There was something about her that just seemed off, and Skylar vaguely remembered hearing her make some sort of comment about the tents and their campsite earlier. The girl just seemed to be in a perpetually bad mood, the way she was ripping and tearing at the chicken making it seem like she had a personal vendetta against it.

“Hey, princess- you alright over there?” Skylar said, her voice coming out slightly more sarcastic than intended. Regardless, she wasn’t going to sugar coat anything- if she didn’t like someone, they would definitely know (even if she didn’t outright go and say it).

Sure, they weren’t exactly staying in a five star hotel, but it was better than nothing (even if only marginally). The point was that they had a place to sleep and food to eat- a lot more than most other people had. Growing up in such a big family had taught her to appreciate that much at least, and while things might have been rough she appreciated it.

“Thanks for the food and everything, Haru.” Skylar said as she waited for the chicken to be passed around, glancing over at the cat guardian.

Bloody hell. So much for stepping out of his comfort zone for the “good” of group: so that they might get a move on through this maddeningly busy marketplace, grab the basics they needed, and quickly get back to the inn so they could continue surviving out of harm’s way relatively. It took more than a few moments for most to even understand what he’d said, despite him attempting to not maul the words too badly. Some had even been shocked into silence by his thick growling accented voice, scared even perhaps. Others were merely ecstatic that he had an awesome accent, especially the Spaniard, Xabier, Falke could assume was no doubt thrilled that he wasn’t the only European stuck in a group of primarily Americans (and the one Airian) and could likewise understand his struggle with the English language. Fei.

“Ah, um, yeah. Sounds good, partner…” Falke was most certainly not anyone’s partner. However, he didn’t bother raising any ruckus over complaining about it, because that wasn’t really him (despite being particularly annoyed) and he was almost ‘pleasantly’ surprised by the southern American fellow’s accent. He had a fair handle on English, but because the other spoke so ‘slow’ – it was easier to understand the whole sentence, instead of just the beginning, middle, or end, which was sort of nice he guessed. “Okay, dried food, water, clothes, hygiene. Okay, nothing special there. We can do that.” Haru hadn’t caught that he’d mentioned Clothes, but had got the basics of what he said. And it seemed he had the right idea enough that the guardian had wholeheartedly agreed with the things he’d listed. Before they could get a move on, like he fully expected them to do, a new voice entered with words of agreement: ”Clothes, food, water, hygiene… I’d say that’s a good plan if I’ve ever heard one.” His eyes, while lazy looking compared to others, snapped in the general direction of the man that honestly unnerved him a little by the complete stranger’s commanding voice that praised him for his “plan”, that had eavesdropped on the group, and suddenly appeared within their ranks – pleased to have gotten the jump on them.

The man was soon named as Ryou, and was another guardian of a different month than Haru. He had returned Dorian to the group again, that had taken some portal side-trip than the rest of them. There was much rejoicing and greeting flying about. And finally… Finally, they got a move on through the market – acquiring the things they needed, before heading back to the inn. A civilized dinner at the mead-hall and a slightly more comfortable night of sleep, hadn’t prepared for the brutal reality of the following days…

---

Five days… Non-stop riding: In that by the third day Falke had found some spare rope attached to his saddle and wrapped it around his mid-section and the horned pommel to help keep him on the blighted horse – it was death wish he knew if something extreme happened like the horse flipped over and he couldn’t get off, but he wasn’t keen on falling over after accidentally over-correcting himself like he tended to do just to keep up with the movement of the beast. Helping make camp after a full day of trampling through the hot, dry, grassy plains, wasn’t anyone’s idea of a fantastic time but Falke helped, or well, er, attempted to help. Quite often he was sent to do a tediously simple task not far from camp (or even past its boundaries really), or just standing in place and holding stuff for others, or ‘just sit there and stay’; sometimes it was a mixture of all three in one night. “Free-time” afterward, he usually just slept when given that extra time – waking up for a meager dinner, and then crashing again.

Falke, and he didn’t doubt the others too, felt like he’d been run-over, eaten, and spit-out, all at the same time by so-called ‘destiny’ of being a month warrior. His mother would be putting him in a wash bucket normally reserved for the dog outside (whilst running indoors to grab the shampoo and cleaning supplies), and his grandmother was likely rolling in her grave; because both being Putzfimmel, they wouldn’t stand his current lack of cleanliness in the slightest. And despite already being blind with a general lack of balance anyway, he felt like he was some Alkoholleichen 24/7 – others had even noticed, and he had already received the ‘hey, the horses are this way’ more than once to his inner disgust. He hadn’t complained once throughout it all, and it was like he ever complained out loud either - his annoyed ticks of his mouth had faded into a perpetual neutral line (almost a frown, sort-of), was about the most he ever did even when right at the breaking point and now he was just too tired to care.

He listened intently to Haru’s speech before heading into the Savage Conversation. While he still was attempting to struggle with the destiny pill shoved down his throat, vaguely playing with the growingly faint possibility in the back of his mind that he’d wake up from this bloody dream soon. Having to go prove yourself to someone so they didn’t chop of your head for being a ‘month warrior’ was quite frankly the last thing he wanted to do ever: He was quite fond of his neck remaining to be there; and of course showing off ‘super-powers’ he was supposed to have to some group of people that would decide his (and his necks) fate, was more than a little nerve-racking. But he supposed he could at least appreciate the warning to not flaunt about his or the others supposed month-warrior-ish.

“Fa-luke?” The guard grunted, and Falke stepped forward as one of the last to head through the gate and collected his passport warily as he stepped through. He couldn’t quite argue with the man’s pronunciation, being that he doubted Aires had a ‘Germany’ or Germanic type of language and he honestly felt like a ‘fluke’ in the long run – because really, was there ever a story of a blind man saving the world? No? He didn’t think so. He was genuinely surprised however, when he grasped his tiny brown booklet feeling bumps not uncommon to Braille on its front cover; and could place it as being a way of a person with a condition like his having help in being able to determine their passport from a wallet (that wasn’t a bad of jingling coins) or other paperwork/books you’d have shoved in your pockets. He didn't take a peak at it's inside contents, but most of it was truthful - minus his birth-year, and his nation of The Rose Kingdom - but good enough that the guards didn't throw a fuss at his or anyone's passports.

---

Falke had been helping set up camp, until an exasperated voice telling him, "We've got it. Just set that pile down there. Why don't you go unsaddle the horses..." After holding an arm-full of firewood for Ryou and Haru as they made a fire to cook dinner and for warmth on the nights a brief chill tickled the night air, and a piece had tumbled out of his grasp as someone grabbed another from the top of the pile. He didn't think it had hit anyone, or landed on someone's foot, but it was clear that again for the fifth night in a row he was being shunted off to another task to be out of the way. It wasn't that he minded doing the horses, but it was certainly frustrating and not to mention embarrassing for accidentally messing things up every night.

He'd just finished unsaddle the last horse on it's grazing line beside their haphazardly yet up tents, when dinner was called. The beast giving him a happy bump of it's head for him removing the sweaty, itchy mound of leather and strings that had been attached to it's back, before resuming munching on its' dinner for the night. He hauled the saddle and blanket back to the pile of all the others, where they would wait until morning for them to saddle up and begin another day's hard riding. And then took his water canteen to splash the sweat and grime off his finger-tips, before staggering to sit down by the fire with the rest of the lot.

He tore off a bit of white chicken when it was handed to him, before passing it on to the next. Falke hated to have anything under his finger-nails, it gave him the creeps quite literally. But too tired to care, hungry, and four nights before eating the same way; he ignored his inner 'yuck', the grease and meat getting under his nails, and ate his dinner without complaint. It was better than nothing at the very least...

*Putzfimmel - A mania for cleaning.
* Alkoholleichen - A wandering, drunk/alcoholic corpse.

Everyone seemed to be filled with a tension that filled the surrounding area like a dark grey fog threatening to consume everything.
Xabier had stayed silent for the journey. He had hoped to gain some sort of understanding with his bearings. However all he could figure out was that they were travelling further and further from home.
Inwardly he wondered if he could go to sleep soon. Tiredness had consumed him and he absolutely detested those damned horses. He had fallen off several times and never really seemed to get the hang of riding the horse. When he had finally gotten somewhere he was so delighted he had yelled over to the others.

"Look,look I'm driving the horse! ¡Mira aquí!" Waving his hands and grinning like a little child.
The others had laughed at something and Xabier wasn't sure what it was,but he liked the sound of laughter.
Seconds later he fell off the horse again. For the rest of the journey he concentrated on trying to stay on the horse.
When they arrived he looked around at his surroundings in horror. His family had money,lots and lots of money. Even when he returned to his mother's home village in Bilbao he had never had to live in anywhere like this. He didn't speak. There was no words in English to describe how he felt. And something told him not to speak in Spanish. It would only be dangerous for someone to notice him. Everyone was moving around in silence until his stomach rumbled loudly. A few heads turned in his direction.
Dammit,he thought,so much for not drawing attention to himself.

He accepted some of the chicken gratefully. It was bland at best. If he had the ingredients he would've experimented with the flavours a little. Still bland food is better than starvation.
"Gracia-I mean...thank you Haru." He smiled lightly. He patted Falke on the shoulder as he passed him. He was so delighted that he had a new buddy that his mood improved visibly.
Instinctively he had checked that Falke and the others had eaten some chicken first before taking his own small share. At home he always had to wait until everyone else was served before he could eat his own dinner. Today his hunger got the better of him. Mid-chew,he smiled up at the dark haired girl nearest to him. He remembered that her name was Lux and she had been friendly before. He hoped that maybe he could strike up a conversation.

She sat across from him with a face like thunder. Even with the culture barrier he knew that she wasn't happy. He studied her face,trying to determine what she was feeling. He could tell she found the surroundings as distasteful as he did. She glared at the ground miserably. Xabier turned away sheepishly. He didn't want to approach her anymore.
Xabier had his own thoughts to deal with. And even then,he dealt with it privately.
He'd have to find a companion elsewhere.
Skylar called across to Lux. “Hey, princess- you alright over there?”
Was she being friendly or picking a fight? Xabier didn't know.
Americans were always so strange in their ways. Especially American girls. They said one thing when they really meant something else.

"Hey," he nodded over to Autumn. She seemed to be on edge ever since she had disappeared briefly earlier on. He had noticed her absence,though he pretended that he didn't.
It wasn't the time for that.
"Are you alright?" However bad he was at dealing with traders or horses,Xabier understood the symptoms when someone wasn't feeling okay.
He couldn't help but feeling worried for her. She appeared to be a genuinely nice person.


*mira aquí - look here

Tallyho stared at the others—specifically Lux and Skylar. Were they picking a fight? The blond raised an eyebrow as her glance retreated to her lap. To be quite honest, the vibe she was getting from Lux made the blonde question whether or not she was a sociopath. The girl was nearby and she could feel the hatred running off of the earthling. But after all, they were just vibes, maybe she was wrong.

Skylar hadn’t really made a good bed for herself though. The same sarcasm she sported when speaking to Harper wouldn’t work on everyone. Tallyho was even a little put off by her unintentionally condescending “princess” comment, and she wasn’t even involved.
Everyone wasn’t as put off at least. Jason and Kyle seemed alright at the most. And some were even beginning to have friendly chatter—Xabier was pretty nice to Falke and Autumn. There were shades of civility, but they hadn’t really meant much to the blonde. Especially since she had no one to show her the same thoughtfulness.

The entire week she spent all of her time to herself. Her only friends being her ten splintered fingers, two sore arms, and the imprint of a machete in her right palm. The promise of inclusion she felt at the lake when she was with the other girls was a false one. She was starting to get a little pissed off about it, really. Even when she tried to bridge the gap between them—tried save them by running the cyclopean away, and attempted to give advice on riding horses, she was unnoticed—only useful for stupid questions pertaining to “Arian customs” that were really just practices of common sense. And even when she answered them, they thought very little of it.

“They hadn’t even asked anything about me,” she mumbled quietly. Her thoughts accidentally left her mouth by way of loose lips.
What was she to them? An encyclopedia of Aires? From this thought she found another reason to hate the earthlings—a resentment that had been growing since the day she fell from that forsaken tree. She didn’t want to be anyone’s tour guide. She didn’t want to be used. She didn’t want to be in this damned group so that she could be made to feel like an alien on her own planet—she wasn’t even that religious! And Haru didn’t make it any better. Haru, the closest thing she had to an advocate and a fellow Arian, helped perpetuate this. ‘Guide them’ he says. ‘Take them to the market’ he says. Well no more.

So could she run? She began to wonder if she truly cared about the fate of Aires. But she found that she had no one in this world to protect but herself. And once she died well—she had nothing left to lose. Leaving would be so easy. If she could leave her people, then she could certainly leave this superficial caravan. Yes, she could run. She was never one for groups anyway. She was—

There was a slight churn in the blonde’s stomach. Perhaps she got a little too upset. It wasn’t unlike Tallyho to feel nauseous when emotionally strained. She held her breath as she quietly stood up, and turned on her heels to make a swift march to the brush well behind the tents. In the dark, shrouded amongst the bush and berry, she doubled over onto herself—only making herself known when she gagged silently.

The chicken was....all right. Better than nothing. If anything, he was a little proud of the fact that he didn't think the chicken was disgusting. Perhaps a few years ago he would have twinned Lux's tantrum-y gestures towards everything, but now, after living off of mostly mac and cheese and instant noodles, having any cooked meat was a delicacy. He even found the tents something to look forward to. He didn't plan on thanking anyone, though. After all, he was perfectly capable of making his own tent. Refraining from complaining about the tents at all would be his sign of gratitude.

It was getting a bit chatty around the fire as Harper stuffed his face. Before he could really jump in to anything, though, the water he had drunk from today (which did include his regular morning swim) was catching up to him. Making a small grimace, he hopped to his feet and hobbled as quickly as he could towards the woods, grabbing the front of his pants. Finding a bush a ways away from the tents, he finally relieved himself with a sigh. Although getting used to pants without zippers had been a little strange, there was still some convenience to them.

As he finished, he thought he heard some shuffling nearby. Freezing like a deer in headlights, his ears strained as he mentally hoped no animal was nearby. Rather, a very soft, barely audible gagging noise wafted through the air, not very far from him either. Taking a couple tentative steps--despite all his horror-movie training telling him otherwise--he found Tallyho looking like she was going to throw up.

"Ey!" he called out, visibly relieved that it wasn't a bear or Jason Vorhees out here after all, "Haru's chicken not settling well for ya? I'm no cook, but that could have used a little salt."

Autumn picked at the meat with slight disdain, hoping that whatever piece she got wasn’t burnt. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn’t. The chicken wasn’t very flavorful. It left her wishing she had some store bought chicken, even takeout would be better than this. Still, she didn’t complain. Not verbally, at least. Her face showed obvious dislike of the meal. Well, it wasn’t really her fault the chicken was bad. No one could say she was in the wrong for frowning. Besides, it was Lux who was complaining the most. If anyone was going to be upset, they would be upset with Lux. Probably. In the meantime, she had put the small medicine bag in her own bag. She quietly wondered if she could return it then, but that would probably raise too much of a fuss.

The thought of sleeping, even in a tent, was welcome to her. Though, for some reason, she wasn’t very tired. In fact, her muscles had stopped aching. She wasn’t very hungry, either. All in all, she felt pretty okay. Was this the medicine bag at work? If it was, it sure was a nice gift. One she would have to return. It seemed like a shame, giving back something that was helping her. She was a month warrior, after all. If anyone needed it, it was her. Not some strange old man. Still, it was his in the first place. She would have more use for it, though, wouldn’t she?

After all, she would be speaking to spirits soon and doing energy manipulation. She would be saving the world. Although her current situation was less than glamorous, it would surely take a more dangerous and exciting turn. Maybe if she just explained that why she would need the medicine bag more; no, that wouldn’t work. She wasn’t supposed to say she was a month warrior yet. Perhaps if she bought it? Yes, she would buy it. She had enough coins left over. Oh, but would Haru be opposed to that? She didn’t want him to be upset at her. Maybe she should just return it after all.

Ignoring Lux and Skylar, for Autumn wasn’t one to partake in fights, she instead turned her attention to Xabier. “Huh? Oh, me?” Was she being deceived? Was a cute boy actually talking to her? Maybe that little bag brought more than good health.

“Oh, I’m fine.” She smiled awkwardly. Cute boys never spoke to her. Not unless they were her lab partners or something. It was a little startling. Still, she was glad to be talking to someone. “I’m just… a bit homesick I guess. And a bit nervous. Aires is such a different place. I’m never sure what to do, or how to act. It feels like the smallest thing can get me in trouble.”

She chuckled, taking another small piece of chicken. “I mean, it’s like I can’t even talk to anyone without feeling like it’s a federal offense. Well, not literally, but this whole thing still makes me pretty nervous. I’m sure it’ll get better soon, though. Once we get going and start training, we’ll probably fit right in!” She smiled hopefully before eating her chicken.

As Tallyho left, Autumn couldn’t help but wonder about her team. It seemed like she, maybe a few others as well, was the only one to make an effort to make friends. Wasn’t that always the way, though. She was the first to try to make friends in her school, and the first to try to make friends when the fate of the world was at stake. She hoped the other blonde was okay.

Xabier glanced over at Falke. He wanted to ask him about Germany. It was apparently very beautiful there. He glanced back at Autumn.
“I’m just… a bit homesick I guess. And a bit nervous. Aires is such a different place. I’m never sure what to do, or how to act. It feels like the smallest thing can get me in trouble.”
"Ah yes I can totally agree with that." Xabier got up and sat down beside her.
His voice dropped down to a murmur just loud enough for her to hear.
He really didn't want anyone native to hear him speak. Xabier understood that his accent stuck out like a sore thumb and that wouldn't help him if people got suspicious.
"Si, I keep forgetting words in English and I'm afraid that I'll get noticed"

Or embarrass myself,he thought to himself.
There was a 'funny' incident when he had spoken about eating baby cheeses in his sandwich to his colleague in New York. The colleague was horrified and started blessing himself. Apparently he thought that Xabier had spoken about eating Baby Jesus. After the colleague called over the Mexican janitor (who was actually rather intelligent and had several degrees from college) to translate and everything was sorted out. Everyone had a good laugh at his expense and then proceeded to go on about their day.
From then on, Xabier stuck to only speaking medical English unless he absolutely HAD to.

He leaned in to Autumn as he spoke. He hoped she wasn't irritated by his presence. Back home in Bilbao,all of his friends and family were comfortable with closeness and they had all spent summer after summer together. Always in close proximity. But still Americans seemed so different,more reserved when it came to personal boundaries.
She had said she was a little nervous.
She wasn't feeling unwell? Nerves and sadness can cause sickness.
He had noticed that she was hiding something. It was obvious by the way she squirmed about.
"Are you sure yo-" He was in the midst of asking her what was wrong when he heard a faint retching sound.
All of his experience and training kicked in immediately. Pushing his concern for Autumn away temporarily, he turned to see where the noise had come from.
It seemed as though he had chosen the wrong blonde to worry about.
Tallyho was leaning over in the corner in the process of vomiting.

"Sorry please forgive me." He excused himself. Leaping up from his place beside Autumn he grabbed his water container and scarf that he had purchased from the market a few days ago, and went to Tallyho's side.
"Tallyho?"
She was one of the more accommodating warriors even though she always seemed tense.
Xabier made sure that her hair was pushed back from her face as she retched. He knew from experience that girls didn't like getting their hair dirty.
His long fingers deftly tied it up with his scarf.

A memory flashed by.
He was standing in a bathroom with a blonde haired girl. She was in the process of emptying up her guts into the toilet. When it seemed like she was finally finished she sat up and let him gently wipe her face clean with a facecloth. He had tied up her hair with the nearest thing to him: a towel. It had made her look strange. Alien-like with her bloated face and skinny body too small for her head.
He had waited until she had promised that she was finished and he had lifted her up into his arms. She was so light that he could have carried two of her with no trouble. He carried her into her bedroom and he got out a basin for her. Just in case she was going to vomit again.
She had looked up into eyes with shame and self disgust.
He slowly untied the towel off of her head. Clumps of her hair came off with it.
"Xabi." She was in tears.
"Ssh,you are still beautiful." He soothed. And she was. She would always be beautiful in his mind. Even after the hair-loss and constant draining hospital appointments. She was more alive than anyone he had ever met.

He would've been anything for her. Become an astronaut to take her into space,a chef to make sure she was always well fed,a business man even though he hated working with figures. Anything.
He would've done it all for her. All at once. On a tightrope across the Mt Everest.

But a doctor was what she had needed. So he trained to be one. And even after working late into the night,every night, he was never good enough.

He was reminded of this as he studied this strange alien girl in a strange planet so far from home.
Xabier snapped back to himself and began to ask her routine questions all the while searching for sunken eyes or visible signs of dizziness in the Arian girl. He had noticed many of the natives had symptoms of sickness as he had passed them by. However if he tried to help them he knew that he could give them away and Haru would kill him.

"Are you feel dehydrated? Any dizziness? Partial loss of hearing or sight?"
He paused briefly before putting his hand to her head to check her temperature. This was no time for him to act like a teenage boy.
The temperature seemed fine. He was probably overreacting,but you'd be surprised how often a simple case of food poisoning would actually turn out to be something much more serious. He had seen a few people die from eating something believing it was harmless.
He waited until she seemed to get her bearings before he continued his questioning. He had quietened down his voice since she seemed upset.
"Could you tell me if you feeling any-" He couldn't remember the word briefly. "... stomach pain?"
If she had, there could be a massive problem.

Suddenly Xabier paused.
He looked her up and down and was all at once fully aware of how imposing he must be to her. He ducked his head slightly letting his growing hair cover his eyes. He hadn't gotten a chance for a haircut before he was snatched away. He never had time after work anyway. It never seemed to end.

"Sorry, here drink small bits at a time." He handed her the water bottle. He turned back to call out to Kyle to ask him to lend Tallyho his hair-band. After making sure that Tallyho was okay,he planned to leave her alone to rest.
Then he'd go to a crowded noisy spot in the group and join in like he was feeling okay. To pretend that he hadn't just seen his dead best friend reflected in Tallyho. It was too morbid and it hurt too much.
Nothing good could ever could from saying anything.

Falke unaccustomed to physical contact – well, any sort of contact really that wasn’t received from primarily his mother, sometimes his father, or the stray cousin, partially on account of his blindness and you know maybe he just wasn’t a fan of being touched out of the blue period – so it was in any doubt that when someone gave him a buddy-ish pat on the shoulder as he passed him by, he flinched. It wasn’t as hard of flinch as the time earlier on in that Core thing, between home Earth and 1000yrs or so in the past Aires, when prodded and asked whether or not he was following the rest of the lot on this ‘adventure’ (mostly because of just how tired he was, likely); but it could still be clearly seen in the surprised twitch of his shoulders, the minor grimace flashing across his lips and showing his teeth briefly, and the anxious snap of his sightless eyes blearily trying to assess who’d even be delighted enough by his less than verbal company through this journey so far to give him a pat on the shoulder in the first place – it faded quickly however, unlikely to be readily seen by most of the group busily munching on their dinner, like most emotions of his. A useful survival technique here, he figured, in all honesty.

Falke assumed the one would patted his shoulder was Xabier, being the relatively happy Spaniard that he was and how he plopped right down next to him to eat his own share of burnt chicken for dinner – before starting a conversation with another familiar voice, Autumn, the same girl that had made him flinch the first time, across the way. He couldn’t help but amusingly think towards his inward self that – /Great! They’re out to get me now./ The thought surprisingly really did mitigate the fact of actually being angry with anyone touching him out of the blue; more so on the grounds of perhaps he wasn’t too out on the limb to even be a part of this group, and really – after listening to a smart-mouthed girl’s potential fire starting comment, and feeling the hate rolling off whoever was miss grumpy puss on the other side of Xabier that the comment was for – he really didn’t care to hear, or start for that matter, some out of portioned argument in English or any language he wouldn’t be able to best anyone at. And so, silent he was…

Unlike the others - busy throwing up, thinking of potentially throwing up, trying to help those throwing up, plotting murder (unfortunately), starring up at the stars, and thinking of the past and/or future respectively – Falke went to bed. He’d already finished his chicken, and washed his hands with water from his canteen; quite tenaciously, specifically under his nails, to make sure they were well cleaned. He’d staggered upright from his sitting position at the fire, and headed into the right tent (in noting that no one corrected him for going into this particular one). He laid down in the distant end and corner of the tent, his usually spot for being out of the way of others coming in later and those going out faster in the morning; attempting to make himself ‘comfortable’ as he could with his arm as his pillow, on his side, on the bare ground, and trying to ignore the whispers going on outside the tent – an… and, those inside his own head. Smelling like sweaty horses, five days of long travel, wood smoke, and burnt chicken; he fell into the uncomfortable version of sleep, only recently known to him because ‘destiny called’, until the next morning.

Dorian, unlike several others, did not choose to leave the campsite to explore the area around him. For one, wandering around a strange place by yourself, as he'd discovered during the first few moments of his stay on Aires, was not exactly advisable, especially in a place with such a tumultuous past and present. For another thing, he was quite sure that he wouldn't be able to find his way back, as spectacularly bad as he was with directions. So, in all reality, sticking around the campsite and helping to prepare for the evening was his only logical choice. Not that he tried to stop others who either chose to go off to sight-see on their own or meander around the camp site, chatting like they were on school trips instead of another planet entirely. It wasn't his place and, quite frankly, he'd long since stopped caring about what everyone else was doing. All that mattered was that he wasn't alone in this foreign land, and whether the assorted people forced to be in his presence and he theirs were having a fun time wasn't exactly high on his priority list.

The dinner was less than sensational and only two or so months ago, if anyone had suggested he would be trading out his specially prepared meals and clean silverware for burnt chicken eaten with hands that were less than sanitary, he would have raised an eyebrow in disbelief(much more than that would have, he believed, been out of character). Now, however, he ate it slowly and systematically, tearing it apart into tiny, digestible bits, plucking away anything he deemed completely indelible with a practiced hand and a trained eye. He almost snorted at Haru's request for a civil thank you. Like any of them were going to get that any time soon. Even before Aires civility had been a virtue tossed out the window from abrupt and unnecessary shouting matches in caves to stubborn and ignorant arguments.

There was a general distaste in the air, a black miasma of bad mood all around that impacted even the most ridiculously cheerful int he party. Really, the only person who seemed to be in good spirits right now was Ryou who had just come back from goodness knows where- Dorian was torn between suggesting that he was finishing up any last minute campsite things or keeping an eye on those adventurous or stupid enough to wander outside of Haru's line of site. Well, and the Southerner too who was idly raising questions about training, but even he had been impacted by the could attitude that was emanating from the group. Somewhere further away he could hear a small argument breaking out about tents, and other soft conversations that he didn't are to overhear. Overall, however, it was quiet.

Well, until Tallyho stood up and vanished into the bushes with an expression and resulting noises that Dorian knew all to well. The Spaniard- Xabier, although Dorian refrained from really using his name in case he absolutely butchered it (not that he had much need to- Xabier gave him a wide berth for the most part, which was comfortably familiar to Dorian's day-to-day interactions with strangers in New York) was after her in a moment with the determined look of someone who actually knew what they were doing. Slowly, as if this were a signal, everyone began spreading out, wandering off in the general direction of the camps. Well, he did mean general direction. Half of the group was still lingering outside the tents, apparently taking their chances in the open air over, Heaven forbid, risking touching one another in their sleep.

Not that he noticed them at first- those group members avoiding the tents like the plague- but he was alerted to their general presence when he nearly tripped over Harper who was, for some bizarre reason that Dorian didn't care to wonder about- shirtless. Dorian simply sent him a look that was meant to express surprise but ended up as twisted and warped as any of his facial expressions before stepping over him with exaggerated care and making his way to the tent. Only Falke was in there, and that was comforting enough for Dorian as he made his way to a spot on the other side of the tent, closer to the entrance in case he ended up needing to leave for whatever reason.

---

Only a few people lingered at the campfire now, Ryou included as he fed dried branches into the flames, humming some foreign tune under his breath. They spat and crackled for a moment before finally submitting to their fate as kindling and the flames grew a little stronger with their addition. Even as Haru lay next to him nursing his toe- or, rather, glaring at it in hopes of making it feel better through sheer force of will- Ryou was calmly alert, a peaceful figure illuminated by the mixed lighting of the stars and flames in front of him.

It was the next morning and Tallyho still felt a little sick. Haru was already making his rounds, nudging warriors awake with hopes of retrieving the weapons before noon.

“Alright everyone. I’ve seen that some of you are a little tired of riding places on horseback. So let’s mix it up little and head off on foot. Our horses will be safe here. The mound isn’t too far away.”

Haru wasn’t in much of a mood to play around this morning. If some of the warriors chose to be defiant in the name of being sleepy then they just wouldn’t get their weapons. He led the group out of the conservation camp and then he began to speak.

“When you get these weapons be very mindful of them. After the warriors perished and the guardians were trapped I had to re-collect them when I woke up. I was a little shocked to find that when I found the weapons, they were pretty brittle and rusty. It didn’t make sense to me because when the warriors had them, many of them were lined with gold. I thought that they might have been stripped by a few merchants looking for a quick buck. But upon a closer observation, I realized that the weapons looked exactly as they had before the warriors learned to use them—fresh from the Goddesses’ palm. The weapons seem to have a bit of a charm on them. They have humble beginnings as far as aesthetic and usefulness goes—quite ugly and easily broken. But, they begin to…. evolve as the warrior gets to know it more. I know this sounds odd, don’t get me wrong. But as long as you take care of your weapon while also becoming familiar with it, you should be fine. The first warriors came to know their weapons so well that they developed spirits with names and physical—though limited—human manifestations. Once you reach that level of closeness…Well you have quite the tool on your hands.”

Tallyho looked at her hands as Haru spoke. She tried to recall what February’s weapon was. She’d seen a few tapestries with the warrior’s story on it but she never really remembered trying to identify which warrior was which.

They probably taught that sort of thing in child-school, though. Tallyho hadn’t had the typical education.

Haru hadn’t lied about the mound not being too far away.

“Try to breathe easy,” he said, “it gets a little dusty in there.”

The redhead disappeared into the mound’s opening—a small black mouth protruding from the grassy hill. Tallyho followed but she got a little worried when had to duck down in order to get through the door. She dug her toes into the slanted ground and drew her fingers against the narrow tunnel walls. The blonde regretted leaving her newly purchased shoes at the tents, nevertheless, she began a slow scoot, following Haru’s instructions. His voice had never been so soothing.

“Alright… Slow. Steady. Get a good grip on the ground. Come on. We will get to the steps soon.”

And they did. Soon Tallyho’s reluctant slides became slow, downward steps. Toe, heel, toe, heel—it seemed that they were going deeper underground.

Harper yawned, barely listening to Haru's speech about weapons. He didn't even remember falling asleep, or whether he had found Orion or not. All he knew was that he woke up with a crick in his neck, grass and dirt in his hair, and the worst cowlick ever. It was as if all of his hair decided to sit on top of his head, rather than all over. That was what he got for sleeping on his back.

He needed a swim.

The mound was probably the exact opposite of a swim, but at least it was underground and not in a tree. Harper shuddered at the thought of having to climb a tree. Heights...that was definitely high on his list of things he did not like. Not that he was really keeping a list...too much mental energy for him. He just made it up as he went along.

The mound began to rise on his list, especially after he bumped his head against the ceiling--not once, but twice--and then slipped as soon as the steps came in to play. He'd caught himself, hands against the walls, but it still damn-near gave him a heart attack.

"It's too early for this shit," he mumbled angrily to himself as he proceeded forward, a little more carefully this time. The thong of his flipflops dug in between his toes, and he still stumbled against the dark steps. Why were they even here anyways? To get some old-as-balls weapons that probably worked like crap? If they had belonged to the old warriors they must not have worked well, considering he and everyone else was here. Why didn't they just go back to Earth, pick up some AK-47s and be done with it? Or even better, get the god-damned military involved. Wasn't that what they were there for anyways?

"If they'd even believe us..." he muttered to himself. Still, if it was them who had seen the alien in central park, maybe they'd believe the whole prophesy bullshit and nuke the bastards. Or something.

Besides, what would he even do with a weapon? He imagined himself wielding a sword. Shit, he could hardly wield a baseball bat. A real man fights with his fists. A wiser man lets someone else do his fighting. Maybe some of these other bozos were eager to put their hands on a weapon--a few names came to mind...--but not Harper. He'd rather do what he did in the start and dive into a pond, swim away for--

Wait a minute! Harper's eyes widened and he perched his head up, banging it soundly against the ceiling once more in his excitement. "Hey!" he shouted, ignoring the pain in his head, "Hey, Haru! Can these cyclopeans swim??"

As the latecomers filtered into the tent, Dorian scooted closer to the tent's cloth wall. He had never had to sleep this close to other people before with the exception of his father many years ago, and even though he lived in a city where privacy tended to be a luxury and the streets staying busy twenty-four hours a day, this felt too crowded, too cramped. Kyle came in first, his general lack of grace and heavy footsteps giving away his identity without Dorian even having to open his eyes. Then there was Xabier, a softly crooned lullaby accompanying his entrance. Well, at least Dorian wasn't the only person who was homesick except he didn't sing- no, that's what he used his cellphone for, a brief glance at something familiar, but even that would go away with time as the battery slowly dwindled away, no matter how careful he was about it.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Dorian finally fell asleep, the insomnia that had plagued him finally losing a fight against his weary body. He woke up groggily slightly before Haru entered the tent, but wasn't slow to exit and stretch in the soft morning light, body battered from earlier events and limbs sore from nights spent away from a familiar bed. The news that they wouldn't be taking the horses was a stark relief to Dorian who'd long since given up trying to convince himself that riding a horse was the same thing as a motorcycle, and he had the aching thighs and tailbone to prove it.

As they played their little game of follow the Haru, Ryou taking the role as sweeper in the back and looking far too chipper for this early in the morning(then again, Ryou always looked far too energetic), Dorian listened as Haru spoke about the weapons. He was sure that no one in the group was particularly enthused about this (then again, they were never very enthusiastic about anything) but he somehow was. It wasn't that he particularly liked weapons because, contrary to the little knife he still clung to like a security blanket since that day in Central Park, the New Yorker had never had an inclination towards them. It wasn't even the history of Aires once again offering itself to the forced visitors that tickled his fascination of an entire new culture and story to learn. Rather, it was the fact that the sooner he got his weapon, the sooner he became proficient, the sooner they could finish this and go home. It was selfish, of course it was, but if he happened to help save a planet on the way, he couldn't complain.

The mound was like Ireland's Newgrange, a stark black hole in a grassy bump on the land. Dorian lingered near the back, eying the hole with distaste. Even from a distance he could tell it hadn't been built to accommodate people his size, or perhaps even people Haru's size.

"Go on, Dorian. We giants have to go in too," Ryou's cheery voice rang out behind him, ushering him behind his reluctant team. It was as small and cramped as Dorian had feared as the young man hunched over, hands easily pressed against each side of the tunnel. He felt silly and looked terrifying, looming at the back of the group like a particularly disgruntled gargoyle. He could hear mild curses and slips and slides paired with panicked breathing in the small space replaced quickly by small exchanges about swimming Cyclopeans and month warrior powers, but couldn't see anything for the longest time, simply moving by feeling and trial and error once they reached the steps. That is, until he saw a light ahead, casting the small tunnel in a warm glow that only grew brighter and more powerful as they continued on until they were in a large, stone room. A large statue dominated the room, drawing attention to it like moths to a flame. He'd never quite seen anything like it, but the mumbled realization from Harper about Nike seemed to fit it, except, and maybe it was the atmosphere, it seemed to be alive, a very real presence in the still, ancient room.

"Go on. Find your month."

Dorian blinked for a moment, eyes scanning the room for names or clues, but he didn't know what he was looking for. Instead he followed Tallyho whose month came before his own closer to the statue, something that made him unusually uncomfortable, like he was disturbing a sacred place. He tried to ignore the stone looming over him and turned instead to the case before him. He blinked for a moment and, quite disturbingly, his first thought revolved around the idea that he'd just become the Gimli of the group.

The weapon was a double-bladed battle axe, the blades a murky gray with chips and cracks on the dull points. The handle was in an equally bad shape, a dusty black color and brittle looking as he slowly picked it up. It was deceptively light as he lifted it from its resting place with ease, the handle grip rough in his hand. What was he supposed to…?

"Sorry, Dorian, you're out of luck," Ryou's voice was quiet in his ear, his usually normal in volume but attention-grabbing words reduced to a whisper. "You've just go to lug it around… Can't have you cutting off your leg if it's by your side." The other man's went out, touching the cracked blade with a reverence that made Dorian realize that it wasn't just an old, broken axe but an object that had once seen days of glory. It suddenly felt heavier in his hands with the weight of years and memories suddenly added to the brittle weapon.

"That's fine." His voice sounded harsh to his own ears, like he shouldn't have spoken at all. It was soon enough that they were making their way back to the surface at a more urgent speed than they arrived, Dorian trying to make his ascent despite the cumbersome axe in his hands and the height issue that was the mound. It was horrific, really, to see it vanish from sight, sinking into the earth as if it had never existed as the last person hurriedly stepped out of the tunnel. Still, to not be constrained by the tunnel and to return to the sunlight's warmth was a feeling better than he would have imagined.

Ryou seemed to have recovered from his moment of quiet and was openly staring at the axe in Dorian's hands when both Harper and Haru broke the silence as the mound slipped out of existence. Although Haru spoke first, Harper's question caught Ryou's attention as being slightly more pressing. Also, more entertaining by far if Dorian's momentary facial expression of 'Is he serious?' was anything to go by.

"You know, why didn't we do that? I can't believe that we've never thought of that in all of these years," Ryou hummed, golden eyes twinkling with barely contained mirth. It was a good natured ribbing, light on the snark as he wandered away from Haru to pick up the forgotten trident, cradling it delicately in his rough hands. "But, no, Harper, if it was that easy I promise you that we never would have brought you all here. Dorian told me about that Cyclopean you met in Central Park? Well, that one was something of a baby, probably too disoriented to really concentrate too much on rending flesh from bone. Rounding them up like a flock of sheep isn't much of an option. Good brainstorming, though."

With that he turned back to Haru with a nod, scarred face slightly more serious. "I think we might as well. Training should start as soon as possible, and the Academy is more than ready to assist."

Falke was sound asleep, or as close as he was going to get to true sleep anyhow, most of the night. While he would hardly call the hard ground he slept on a blessing, the tent, however not exactly proofed against bugs and critters and the like, was still a nice almost reassuring touch when compared with just sleeping outside in the grass and what have you. When Haru entered the tent nudging everyone awake, he awoke quite sharply – save the bleary look in his eyes, he rose relatively quickly despite sore limbs and muscles, and was stretching as he went outside careful not to step on any of the crazy outside sleepers or bump into others having already exited the tent. In hearing the new that they wouldn’t be taking the horses to the mound, a brief flash of a grimace appeared and disappeared quickly across his lips; it wasn’t that he in general preferred riding the horses over walking, but it did come with the advantage of the horse following its buddy’s without much steering involved while walking he was alone in the steering wheel. Oh well…

Following Haru, Falke had found himself near the tail-end of the group on the way to the mound. He was primarily focused on the walking, although he listened with some mild interest to Haru speaking of the weapons – saving the information for another time, when he wasn’t as preoccupied as he was now. He was cautious of every step, and careful not to step on anyone’s heels in front of him (or behind him, however that would happen, too). His weight shifted constantly to either foot to combat the rolling landscape as he came to it.

Falke stepped up to the stark black hole that the others had disappeared into, and their voices disappearing steadily unnervingly underground. His nose wrinkled with distaste, as he followed reluctantly behind and slipped down into the tunnel. The first step he nearly biffed it, and was only saved by his quick hands flashing out to brace himself and the top of his head brushing the ceiling – until his feet could find themselves and traction again. An uneasy hiss rattled through his clenched teeth, not quite as relatable to a tea kettle’s whistle but nearly close enough, in annoyance. He was as disgruntled as he usually whenever he’d been about to fall, because really trying to find his way up again was always an embarrassing affair; but in turn, the dirt now under his finger-nails and the streak of brown no doubt staining his blond hair, was an added straw meant to break his back. He collected himself, however, and continued onward without another word or expression for that matter – being far more careful where he stepped the following times, and even then slipped occasionally but not as nearly catastrophically as before. He listened vaguely to others comments about month warrior powers and aquatic monster possibilities with only enough vague interest to categorize and potential think on it later himself in the quiet of his own mind.

An unnatural glow grew warmer and stronger as they continued on through the tunnel until they finally arrived in a large, stone room; it was unnatural only because it didn’t seem like the sunlight they’d left behind and wavered and wobbled as if affected by the breeze of their arrival. Magic torches, okay then. Falke warily investigated his surroundings with the care of feeling tickling up his shoulders like he was being watched by something very much alive (that wasn’t apart of the group oddly enough; great, the insanity was possibly effecting him too now), where he paused near the entrance and his eyes blearily floated about. He heard someone mumble realization of something about Nike, but what he didn’t know. As far as he remembered from schooling Nike was very Greece, and Greece, and the rest of home-Earth, was very, very far away from Aires at this point in time.

“Go on. Find your month.”

Falke blearily scanned the room, hopelessly really. September was his month, but he generally doubted Aires had a loud speaker to call his name to come forward for him or at the very least some Braille on a nameplate. And so, he waited until the others were headed in their various different directions to their weapons, a space was open and he headed for it then. When he reached it, he warily raised his hand hunting for the presence and grasped a cylindrical object made of rusted metal, with hints of rotten wood and leather. The ‘stick’ was probably no more than 4ft long he guessed, and it figured in his unlucky favor to get stuck with the twirling baton against screaming monsters that wanted to eat him. But it was rather heavy for something with no obvious sharp pointy bits to stab or slash or crush with, which was curious he supposed but ultimately a little useless seemingly – really, how was this going to even work? Clink. His eyes widened in alarm as he looked down at his own hand, and the wrist that had barely shifted in testing the weapons weight in his hand. It sounded so similar to those bloody plastic Lightsabers his cousins had bought from the Offizieller Star Wars Fan Club he’d have crashed over his head if he wasn’t paying attention or handed been the best of punching bags in their fencing lessons he’d sometimes attended. However, given the weapons outward condition, he wasn’t particularly keen to get stabbed or bashed in the head with whatever did come out of his ‘Stick’ – or to be politically correct, some sort of Dual-bladed Stave and/or Staff of a sort. And it would be best to wait on that until later…

What Falke couldn’t see was that it was indeed a Dual-bladed Stave and/or Staff, though comically dubbed a twirling baton or plastic lightsaber in his head – it fit the weapon rather well at this point in time. The 4ft handle was in bad shape, a sun-faded blackish rotten dyed leather wrapped around a mixed rusted metal and chip-ridden wood core. Inside the stick was a mechanism so clogged up with rust and grime it was unlikely the blades would be able to ‘flick out’ of their sheaths for some time. The blades themselves were a severely tarnished silver, covered in an array of chips and cracks of gray and darker gray, and both duller than plastic butter-knives.

Soon enough, they were making their way back to the surface at a quicker pace than the one down, partly because entertaining the thought of the roof coming down on their heads wasn’t a fond idea for anyone. Falke made his ascent relatively easier than before, and found it an accomplishment not to have slipped and sidled as many times as before nor had he bumped his head on the roof. Still it was a breath of fresh air, literally, after being out of the underground cavern and the confining tunnel there and back again – to open sky and morning sunlight’s warmth on the back of their necks. Yes, much better. He shifted his 'stick' to his other hand, to relieve some of pulled muscle feeling his other shoulder at been acquiring at the weapon's weight for all of the walk up.

Falke’s attention snapped to both Harper and Haru when they broke the silence as the mound slipped out of existence and the room underneath collapsed in on itself. Haru had spoken first, asking Ryou a question that certainly made sense. Yes, they likely needed to head to the Academy soon to get training with these weapons and, oh yes, their er, supposed powers; before showing it off to someone important in TRK, saying ‘please don’t kill us’ at the same time. Right. But Harper’s question, which Ryou quickly answered with a good natured ribbing, was easily something rather ridiculous. Because why would they even be stuck here in the first place, if getting rid of the cyclopeans was easy as that. And really, was it even possibly to herd a wolfish alien beast that was more of a predator than a herd animal? No, he really didn’t think so. Ryou answered Haru in turn, and it seemed that they would be on their way soon enough.

"Me? I am the month Octubre-ah October!" Xabier replied. He sighed softly.
"Haru said that I have the power of dark shadow illusions-but I can't believe in this sort of thing." He lived in reality most of the time and left behind his native religion in exchange for science. With a gentleness usually reserved for his youngest brother, Inigo, he made sure that Kyle didn't trip.
Slowly he removed his arm from Kyle's shoulder as they entered into a torch lit room.
Straight in front of them was an exquisite statue of a celestial woman in flight.
Xabier recognised with a a start that she was the Goddess that everyone had talked about so fondly.
The statue's face was lit up from the torch light and seemed to be glowing. As the torchlight hit her eyes,they shone faintly las if there was fire trapped inside the cool stone.
Xabier approached the statue with a solemnity that he treated mass back home.
The Goddess had an uncanny likeness of a Greek goddess from his old history book,but he couldn't for the life of him, remember her name.
Xabier was not one to believe in spirituality or anything that people claimed had a Greater Power over humans. Life is about science and looking after others to the best of his ability.
Still he was brought up in a strongly Christian home. Even though he wasn't a believer,he understood that anything sacred to others must be treated with respect.
"Discúlple" He bowed his head in respect. Surely this wouldn't offend anyone.

"Go find your month." He heard Haru say. Through the dim light he made his way to the weapons furthest away from the statue. Xabier noticed to his distaste that the weapons that he past by were dangerous things,like an axe and a scythe. He understood that they had to retrieve these sacred weapons but he didn't like how deadly they were. Weren't they all from 21st century 1st world countries? The last time he checked no one used pitchforks anymore in a civilised places. But this is an alien world,he reminded himself.

When he made it to the October weapon, Xabier paused and simply stared.
"¡Estás de coñá! Un palo? Mi madre, Abuela -¡Oh Mira este!" He muttered and then laughed out loud. If he believed in God then this would have been some sort of sign.

Inside the October slot was a simple staff. About 5"6 in height,the staff looked like something from an old ninja movie. Old was definitely the right word for it. When he tried to lift it up the material seemed to heave under the pressure. Any second now,it felt like it'd crack and where would that leave him? It was lightly bound with a piece of dirty grey fabric. The wood was rotting and when he tried to remove the filthy material something stung his fingers sharply. On further inspection there seemed to be nothing sharp underneath,still the material was kept on-just in case.

Looking over at Falke he noticed the similarities between the two weapons. Both of them had staves but Falke's appeared to consist of two swords. Xabier knew that his own weapon would not stand up against the others if they ever were to fight. And he didn't even mind.
Holding the weapon by the tightly fastened material he wandered over to his friend Falke and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Aha! We match!"


*excuse me
Are you kidding! A stick? My mother, grandmother-oh look at this!