Perhaps it wasn't all too surprising, but within two days in their stint as jailbirds, Dorian was beginning to miss the ship. Oh, he didn't miss the rocking motions, the constant stench of unwashed bodies and too much salt assaulting his nose, or the mass of strangers around him (although, in Nikita's crew's defense, at least they hadn't instilled paranoia in him). But he did miss his escape- the crow's nest had offered him only a small amount of privacy, but it had been his space where he could pretend that there wasn't so many people crowding the shop, a little slice of his own personal Nirvana when they became too much. He thrived when he could escape, could take time to himself. Here, that wasn't an option.

No matter where he went the other warriors, Guardians, and various prisoners were always there. He could always see them, hear them, feel their presences and it was driving him up the wall. His only refuge, and this was incredibly sad when he came to terms with it, was bathroom breaks. Bathroom breaks to a smelly, gross room with guards hovering outside the door either afraid he'd try to make his escape through the hole in the floor or that he'd hang himself given half a chance (they worries were for nothing- if anyone knew anything about him, it was that he was willing to do anything to survive this entire adventure and Dorian still had the presence of mind to think anything that had to do with bathroom waste was super gross). He felt suffocated and irritable and thank God almost everyone seemed more subdued, even if it had taken the threat of being torn apart by a massive herd of Cyclopeans to get that result (although their new kicked puppy or I'm-just-a-poor-innocent-in-all-this routines were equally distasteful).

Each day dragged by at a snail's pace and even if Dorian wasn't actually looking forward to whatever the Hell was going to happen on their own personal version of Judgement Day, it would be a change of pace and scenery. He distracted himself as best he could, his phone an option only in the dead of night, huddled under covers and hoarded away like a precious treasure (He'd tried to make a Gollum joke to Tallyho but had given up halfway through explaining what a Hobbit was. Ryou, however, had somehow gotten it and apparently appreciated it if only because he'd started referring to Harper's ring now in Dorian's possession as "The Precious"). During the day, however, he stretched and occasionally exercised if only because sitting too still made him want to crawl out of his own skin in this particular situation, and occasionally played with the wind, to make it circulate and breathe instead of hanging still in the prison air like a heavy miasma. The air was invisible, after all, and even if he didn't have any real reason to hide his powers anymore, he didn't particularly enjoy putting on a show, especially after the "Harbinger Fiasco".

He observed too, something he was forced to do even if he didn't want to. Friendships were fizzling out, Kyle turning his back on Xabier and Skylar breaking free of the orbit of Harper's huge personality. Other friendships thrived, like Tallyho and Gwen, Skylar and Autumn, or even Jason and Kyle, and blossomed, and some continued on as they always did. Ryou and Haru continued to speak in their own language, all soft banter and the occasional comfortable silence between the two as Haru plotted and planned and Ryou read or composed a letter (the monkey Guardian had been pleased to learn that their initial bad impression on General Cress hadn't meant that his letter writing privileges had been revoked). The moment Haru returned, Ryou was by his side with a shoe in his hand and a gentle quip about Haru usually played the Fairy Godmother, not Cinderella tumbling off his tongue. Perhaps it was Dorian's imagination, but Ryou seemed more chatty when Haru returned, more his usual self which was refreshing given the general gloom that had descended on everyone involved.

Dorian and Tallyho's friendship carried on par the course, but shifted and twisted with an entirely new situation. It had started late one night when a blow to the arm stole him from sleep. He sat up quickly, wondering for only a moment if one of his night terrors had been to blame, but quickly realized that something wasn't right. Tallyho was convulsing on her own cot, seizing and mumbling something (it had taken him a second or two to recognize the word "floor" being whispered like a mantra), and his body moved on its own accord. Neither gracefully nor particularly clumsily, he pulled her from her bed, cradling her head in his lap to keep it from striking against the floor. It was terrifying, watching her convulsing and being powerless to do more than keep her from concussing herself. Was she going to die? Was he not going to do enough? Was he going to lose her? And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over and he was left with Tallyho unconscious for a time where all he could do was help her back into her bed and watch her with a hawklike gaze.

He'd quietly begged her for a time, close to tears the first time if only because it was immediately after the incident, to tell Haru or Ryou or Gwen or anyone who could or would do something about it. She'd refused and he'd kept his silence, although with much trepidation and more than a few misgivings.

It was Sunday now and Dorian felt an indescribable relief that things were actually going to happen, to change once again. Even everyone's usual antics interspaced with attempts at planning- Kyle spouting something about teamwork and how they should totally do it, Kit talking about himself- were far more tolerable than they had been only a day ago.

Ryou seemed far from perturbed at the Haru-doesn't-have-a-plan revelation, and Dorian, while he might have preferred it otherwise, realized that he wasn't either. He'd do what Haru said, regardless of what it may be, and if Haru promised them something more solid on site, then he'd damn well wait to hear it.

“It’s time.”

Those were the words that did it. The words that, in one fell swoop erased any sense of coherence or perhaps false security that Tallyho had built up after Haru’s return. They knew the day was coming but as each morning left, the days became longer. And she wouldn’t lie—the entire day she was anticipating the moment the guards would arrive ready to escort. But now that the moment actually arrived… she felt embarrassingly underprepared. They left the cell the same way they entered: passed like slabs of meat or sacks of grain through a long line of knights before walking out in a stark line. Tallyho hadn’t been out of the cell that much but she was pretty positive that they weren’t entering the way they came in. In fact they were travelling in the opposite direction. Tallyho tensed as she considered that they might not be making it to the flock. That Trent might have gone ahead and issued their executions.

And this theory wasn’t disproven by the fact that the group was being led through yet another door, wide and heavy and foreign. She closed her eyes as the change in room temperature smothered her. Everything was warm and musky. The interior was wooden compared to the metal and stone of previous surroundings.

She looked up first:

An assortment of weapons mounted on the walls, hanging from the ceilings. Swords, scabbards, maces bows, and oh Goddess they were going to torture them first weren’t they?

Her nostrils widened:

The musk, more pungent than ever, smelled of shit. But a very, very familiar shit. Nonetheless she couldn’t help but suffocate.

And then there were soft purrs from sloppy lips. The swish of hair against wood. Tallyho lowered her vision now.

And what they had stepped into was probably the oddest, most convenient setup an army could ever hope for. Some strange stable-arsenal hybrid, a one stop shop. And without any warning the knights were upon her, yanking her like a doll. Arms up, head up, shoulders back, hold your breath. Hold. Hold. Hold. Let go.

And she felt heavier now. Thicker.

It had only taken a moment for the two knights to adorn her with heavy leather mail much like the type soldiers in training wore. So this was protection then? Why she supposed that they would have had to give them something… Watching the flock was supposed to be a fun sport not an act of total brutality. …At least that’s what they said. And while Tallyho was grateful for a little extra layers she wasn’t sure how much help she would be if she was so weighed down. Her style of battle relied on her agility and speed, the opportunity to weasel out of deadly blows by the hair of her lash. She pressed curious palms against her person, feeling for all of her exits and preparing herself to shed the leather house as soon as she had to. She noticed a belt loop for a sword and reached under her skirt, snagging the sword bound against the line of her leg with tattered cloth from her last dress. She did this awkwardly, bending at awkward angles because of the constricting armor. Nonetheless she was grateful for the loop. She never had a belt to hold her precious weapon and often carried her sword in her hand or under the skirt of her dress despite how clunky it seemed.

They swaddled every party member in the same padding before continuing on past the horses towards another large door. And if the cracks of light under the door meant anything, this door promised the outside world.

And that it did. That and lines of people. Lines and lines of people. Much like the mob that watched them walk to their imprisonment. And their expressions didn’t change either. They were still praying for their souls. And this annoyed Tallyho. While she was sure that by their logic they were right to do so, they just didn’t know this group. They just didn’t know. This group was the real thing. No ifs, ands, or buts.

They walked this way for what felt like a mile. Walking and walking until they neared the grand wall and the blocks of foot soldiers parted in their path, making way for them to near the drawbridge before re-congesting behind them. And at the end there was Trent. Smug and fabulous as ever, arms crossed and cape billowing in the wind. But he stopped the line suddenly, pacing around towards the knights who escorted them.

“Wait, wait, wait. Take the guardian characters out. Let them watch from the walls and get a front row seat.”

This excited Haru. In fact if he wasn’t mistaken (and there was a 75 percent chance that he wasn’t at this point) this vantage point would give them more control. Especially considering some of the drafts he sketched out in his head as far as planning went. He nodded his head slightly before speaking.

“I only request that you let us guardians roam free in that designated wall area. Feel free the reprimand us if we attempt to escape.”

Trent hadn’t even looked Haru’s way. He didn’t find it necessary.

“Yeah, whatever.”

And so Haru, relatively pleased, let the knights escort him up a rickety stairway that rose to the frontal wall. Once the guardians were settled the drawbridge lowered. And when it was flat enough (not even completely settled) the band of knights practically shoved the warriors off of the bridge and onto the green that bordered the deep moat surrounding the city.

Bridge up.

Haru, almost as soon as the knights let him go, darted to the walls edge to look down at the warriors from above. It was a long fall but they weren’t too far out of ear shot.

“Don’t just stand there… Brace yourselves. Don’t take your eyes off of the horizon!”

And Tallyho tried. Thought she was not sure if she was doing it right. After stripping out of her armor and reaping her sword from it, she took a defensive stance, watching the horizon hopelessly. No. she really wasn’t sure if she was doing this right. Mostly because she didn’t know what she was looking for? She felt comfort in knowing that an entire army was behind the walls of that grand city. But lost it realizing that a man like Trent commanded them. And Trent sat prettily amongst the guardians. A few steps behind them of course but close enough to watch the warriors from below and maybe taunt the supposed guardians about how much the “month warriors” sucked.

It was like this for moments. Felt like hours. Tallyho lost her stance a few times, only to be barked at from above by Haru who acted as, quite possibly, the most annoyingly attentive god ever.

In one moment Tallyho realized whether or not she was doing this right. The moment she realized a silhouette rising from the smooth back of the hills like a particularly unsavory wart. Then another and another. Stomping was heard.

It grew louder.

We are going to die.
We are going to die.
Die.
We are going…
To—

They were too close now. And Tallyho was ready to run at them the moment she saw the first one in the distance. But she was glued into place by Haru’s constant “wait wait wait” and he was still chanting it. And her muscles were pulsing. And they were too close. And—

“GO!”

And Tallyho ran at them. Blindly like a particularly stupid, and very loud sheep. Cross-eyed and stumbling for the first few minutes. A scream of fear and rage and confusion fuming from her hot, hot breath. Maybe she screamed because she was angry. Maybe screaming made her hit harder.

And it didn’t take much energy for electricity to unravel from the curves of her body. High voltage in every tensed muscle. Her legs, moving with aimless purpose, like twin wires, broken and live, squirming towards a reckless puddle. It seemed like forever before she actually fell into one of those black scaly bodies. Because as she ran into small congregations they parted at either side of her. Falling on the wayside and collapsing into jewels up until the point her shriek went mute. And when she couldn’t scream any more, when she couldn’t zap them anymore, she took to slashing aimlessly and prying their bodies away. One could only hope that no warriors were accidentally harmed in this fit of terror.

Haru, pleased to see that Tallyho, who started off with a big enough bang to even get Trent to squint, plowed through members of the first wave with more than enough vigor to compensate for a few others who hadn’t gotten used to the mass yet. The only problem was that she was going to be pretty tired and ultimately useless after a while. So he decided to focus on another part of his plan, looking to the complicated series of cranks mounted on the wall.

Oh dear Goddess please tell him that was—oh thank the one above. A maintenance pulley—the platforms carpenters used to easily scale the walls for upkeep. Thank Goddess, thank Goddess he was right about that part. But oh, things got better…

A cannon. A bloody cannon. Okay. So the guardians had a pulley and a cannon. That was pretty much all they needed as far as staying in their designated space went.

He turned to the others, his voice faster than usual.

“Okay. Okay. First don’t touch that cannon yet. Second, I want you to look out for your warriors but what I really need is for some of you to help man these cranks when we need them. Okay? I’m thinking that we’ll use it to pull up the warriors in case of emergencies but best case scenario that won’t happen. What we really need is to do extractions on a few warriors to get them up there and give them enough time to charge their powers for the big cyclopean. And—And when that big one comes we’ll take them all out. Does that make sense? Whatever. Just be ready to let the platform down when I say so and help me call over whichever warrior I think should come up.”

Haru’s plan probably didn’t sound the most put together at the moment. The man was frantic. But not the awful kind of frantic. No he was almost a little excited. Without another word he hunched back over the wall’s edge, surveying each warrior with equal interest, and looking out for any personal emergencies.

The past two weeks had gone by ten times longer than the 2 months on the ship. Or at least, it felt like that. As gregarious as he was, Harper still had a need for privacy and personal space. With nowhere to escape to, especially in a moment of turmoiled emotions, life in the prison cell had been as hellish as he'd imagined it would be.

Only a heightened elevation could have made it worse.

Given the inability to literally run away from his problems, Harper had trouble bouncing back. What would normally have only taken a 2 hour swim to recover from was now spread across days of bathroom breaks, where he wold relieve himself physically, mentally and emotionally. Many a guard had looked at him suspiciously when he emerged with red, watery eyes and ragged breath.

When he wasn't spending an unnecessarily long time in the washroom, Harper was carving. Even though the soles of Ondine's boots weren't very large, he spent the entire two weeks working them, carving and refining, over and over. Even though Ondine still hadn't apologized formally, Harper was over the slapping incident. It had hurt, and wounded his pride among other things, but Harper didn't like holding grudges.

Still, that didn't mean he forgave. Something like that seemed too....he didn't know how to put it, but it didn't seem to suit him.
He just didn't feel any vengeance or anger towards her. Or even resentment...at least not more than usual. He just...let it go. Didn't worry about it. Moved on. Went back to their usual dynamic.

He just didn't forgive. And he doubted he would forget either.

The same deal with his father, of course.

Besides, Ondine didn't seem to expect any more from him.

As quiet as he was, Harper did not think about the situation at hand, or plan for the future battle. It would take more than a few
slaps to the face to change the way he thought, assuming it was even possible. Instead, Harper thought of nothing. Clearing his mind was his goal, and there was not a thing anyone could do to interfere with that. Even Ondine seemed to grasp that.

In fact, his guardian had hardly talked to him since that first day.

Not that he cared.

He finally bounced back mentally around the tenth day, but continued carving, although he did so with a smile and whistled to himself. However, he did talk more, whether it was to Xabier or Dorian. He tried to talk to Skylar, but sensed tension. It took him a while to figure out how he had wronged her, but when he finally connected the dots he nearly face-palmed himself.

It was also around this time that he'd sheepishly gone looking for his ring. After sweeping the entire cell on his hands and knees,
Ondine tipped him off to Dorian, who he approached to retrieve the jewelry, muttering a small "thanks" during the exchange. He slung it back onto the broken black cord, retying it around his neck with Ondine's help, who had tied it in such a way that he doubted he'd ever be able to take it off without a blade.

Over the next few days he finally finished. He'd made a small windmill, complete with movable turbines and a small waterwheel. He had decided to give it to Skylar the next morning, as an apology of sorts.

He woke up to a kick in the back from Kyle (why he was placed next to him he'd never know...) which almost landed him on the floor. "Ah yes, just what I needed," he yawned sarcastically as he sat up, glaring at Kyle, "Nothing like a good ol' spinal break to kickstart the morning."

His sarcasm only increased as they went over the game plan...if you could even call it that. He was in the right state of mind to stay quiet and not voice his thoughts, but he couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes at everyone's comments, especially Kyle's. Team? Working together? Yeah right. Eat your own words, blondie. It wasn't like Harper went around kicking Kyle off the bed, or anyone else for that matter. Sheezus.

He stayed sullenly cynical as they were escorted out, shooting off snark after snark in his mind as he was dressed in the leather armor--like that would provide much protection against obsidian blades--and subsequently realized for the umpteenth time that he hadn't brought his saltwater skin with him. Some fight this would be. He briefly wondered if perhaps he should just linger in the back and let all the others take care of the fighting. Sure, this was all about teamwork, but wasn't keeping himself from being killed aiding the team? Didn't that count?

His thoughts were only reiterated when Ondine took him by the shoulders as they were led out and ordered, "Do not get yourself killed out there."

"Wasn't planning on it," he told her as he was pulled away, and he waved at her as he crossed the bridge, shouting, "Although you have to admit, death by monster is one hell of a way to go!"

Yet, for all his sarcasm and lack of seriousness, it was only on the surface. His legs shook as he waited, staying near the back of the group, trident heavy and slippery in his hands. Water...he had no water. At least Kyle could use rain. And there was that moat behind them...fuck, everyone could use their power except him. He would be forced to use his weapon, something that was painfully close range...shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Haru's shouting didn't help matters in the slightest.

And as a rumbling vibrated throughout the earth, Harper felt his stomach drop, and fear began to take over. Regrets filled his mind. He should have given Skylar the windmill straight up this morning, instead of pocketing it and saving it for later. He should have talked to Dorian more, asked him more questions about Sadie. Should have tripped Kyle at least once, just to see how he liked it. Should have kissed Xabi one last time. Should have told Ondine he was scared. Should have decided to bring his fucking his pouch of seawater. Even a gallon of it would be more helpful than nothing.

Should have. Should have.

Well, it was too late for those.

He swallowed dryly, trying to focus. But even when Haru shouted the affirmative, and Tallyho took off like a streak of lightning, screaming and flashing, Harper froze in place.

Above him he could barely hear Ondine's voice, travelling down the wall, shouting with every ounce of her might, "SOMEONE BRING ME SOME DAMNED SEAWATER! NOW!!"

Time seemed to pass all too fast before the group was brought out. Autumn wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready in the slightest. The heat of the prison made her feel woozy, but she refused to abandon her fur cloak. By now, the crown braid that Kit had so carefully arranged was gone and replaced with a mess of tangles and hair pins. Autumn hadn’t bothered to brush it, fearing it would look to vain for the situation at hand, but she really wished that she had.

The group was led through multiple doors and for a moment Autumn was sure they were going to die. Instead, she was pulled and jostled as the cheapest armor she had ever seen was forced onto her body. She felt like a cat being put into a dolls dress. The dress that she was wearing was already made of heavy fabric, but this just made her feel like she was going to fall over.
Autumn watched the crowd with curious eyes, wondering why they would pray for what they believed to be false prophets. She looked to Kit for some sort of comfort, but the man was taken away and brought to the walls.

She blinked, able to recognize that some figures from the crowd weren’t actually alive. So the spirits had returned. It was a great relief to know that she had them by her side. Still, she was nervous.

Autumn tried to hold her ground, eyes on the horizon.

The voices assured Autumn of victory. Now was the time that their deal would be put into play. She felt the warmth disappear, replaced with the familiar chill of spirits. It was cold, but in a wonderful way. Her fingers twitched on her weapon, the metal glimmering in the last bit of sunlight.

The first wave came crashing in.

Autumn stayed out of the way, ducking behind buildings and hiding in shadows. She didn’t need to be in the frontlines, the spirits were doing that for her. They sucked as much energy as they could out of the beasts and then informed her where the vulnerable targets were.

This wasn’t the time to be terrified, but she couldn’t help her fear.

As soon as the first cyclopean lost most of its energy, Autumn sprang into action and slashed at it until it fell apart. She repeated these actions with more and more cyclopean enemies, not once feeling tired. In fact, she was energetic. She was starting to get excited. Each swing of the war scythe was more powerful than the last as she dodged in and out of the fray. She was no longer afraid.

It wasn’t that hard at all. There were no long trade deals that she had to go through, just action. She was a general, commanding her army of the dead to do her bidding without question. It was delicious. For once, she felt as if she was truly in control. With just the tiniest whisper she could have them make an enemy fall. If anyone was cornered by a cyclopean, she made sure to have the beast drop.

For those who weren’t Autumn, they most likely saw cyclopean dropping or swaying for seemingly no reason before she went in for the kill. Autumn, however, saw the mass of spirits pile on the monsters like birds fighting over a crumb. They only parted from the cyclopeans when they drained all the energy they could.

Some even managed to get a few blows in. Scratches appeared on the cyclopeans as the spirits dug into them.
Autumn wasn’t surprised by this. Given enough energy, spirits could move objects or even harm people. However, under these feast-like circumstances, who knew what they were capable of.

Even she was stronger than usual. She had always hated the feeling of cyclopean energy inside of her, but with the intense distribution rate of the battle she hardly felt it. The blonde could sap far more energy from her opponents than before now that it was being instantly taken from her. Oddly enough, she still felt as if she had extra energy. Endorphins, perhaps? The heat of the moment? Whatever it was, it felt nice.

A voice appeared next to Autumn, though this time it took form.

“This is a surprise, you never show yourselves to me.” Autumn said, taking a second to look at the dark mass next to her. She had a bit of time for conversation. After all, any enemy that dared to lunge at her would be met with the force of the spirits. She wasn’t invincible, but she was able to stand by for a moment.

“Yes, well, we have far more energy this time. We can do many ṁ̥̹̤̗̌ͣ̍̇̋̏͗͐ò̫̆͡r̳̤͍̬̝͙ͤ̄͝͞ȩ̸̗͐͑̀͊ͤͧ͆͠ t̴͇̭͈̯̞̖̱̼̬͌ͤ͑͛̿͛̒́͐h̴̦̏͐͐̈́̾̚i̸͕͈̲͙͇͈̣͙ͩ̔̋̈̏̋͌ň̘͎̣̺͓̔̑̅͌ͭ̈͒̕͞g̝͍̘̅̿̿̽̉s̺̺͔ͣ̇͛̿̅̔͆ we were not able to before. This b̻̯͊̑̈ͬ̈̎́ȓ͈́i̷̳̘̬̱̳̜͛n̮̦̜̯͖̬ͤͧͧ͞ͅg̛̻͓̓̈́̐ͣs͎̱̃̍̿̆͞ ͬͣͦ̌ͫ͡ṵ̢̦̱̘̹̾̔p̳̗̲̞̮̮͉̑̔͂̒̓́ our terms from before. You will remember to pay us with your own energy, correct?” It spoke, words still muffled and hard to understand. Though Autumn could understand most of it, it was very much like learning a new language. Some parts were still hard to decipher.

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“It’s just that we’re getting r̷̴̡̛̼͓̞̭͉̹̙̖̮̝̟͎̪̜̼̩̰̃̓̄ͧͤ̍̽̄ͧ̔̉͌͐ͭ̔̕ͅả̶̡̧͔̰̼͈͕̫̭͕͎̪̻̝͓̙̯͕̂͂́̚ţ̢̹̭̮̰̹̬̊̎̈́͛̍̾̉ͥͧͤ̒͠ͅḫ̷̤̱͔̺̪͕̼͍̭̪̬̥̋ͤ͗̉͛̅̌ͫ͌͞ͅe̢̡͍̼̖͕͕̻̩̮̝̣̬̺ͧ͆̓ͥ̍͂̾ͣ͋ͭr̴̛̓͒ͯ̅̔̾̈́͆́̾̒̃ͧͣ҉̢̖̺̠̖͠ tired.”

“What? It’s only the start.”

“We know, and we apologize.”

“You can survive on cyclopean energy for a little longer, right?”

“Of course. It’s just that your month warrior energy is easier to manage for us. Pay when you can, no rush. Just remember that we’re c̤̯̥̭͈̫̖̟̍̊ỏ̧̘͎̙͔̏̈́̃͟l̸̳͎̠̞̬͋ͦl̲̙̙̲̤̦͕̜̻̈̉̏ͪͦͪ̃̂e͑͆ͣ̈́̎͘҉͖̗̩̹͓̝̥̖̭̕c̸̛͉̹̩̜̯̰͕͍̍̚t̺̰̮̜̥͔̠ͫͩͤͣ̓͞͝ĩ̡̻͔͐ͪͫ̕n̝͑̋ͥͫͭͮg̒̏̌͑ͬͬ͡͏̠̻ with i̐͋̏̉͒̌̓ͨ̏̇҉͇̖͔̜̯͍̮̖̥̘̯̰͎̮͞͞n̠̱̱̪̤̻̝̝̖̦ͭ̍̾̂͘͟͞͠͝t̷̞̹̲͈̉̈͊̔̓͒ͥͤ̈́̑̊̋̆ͣ̾ͩ̽̂ͧ͘e̥̣̙̳̮̊̑ͮͭ̇̓ͧ̈́̏̄́͘r̸͙̘̼̣̎ͯ́̂ͯͣ̇ͩͥ̀ͫ̒̓ͩ͑̈͞ͅȅ̉̎̀ͩ̉ͫ̑̃́҉̵̡̜͚̯̟̦̻̝̞͚͎̮̯͘s̵͐̎ͬͬ̚͏̘̺̭̭̰̝͓̘́͢ͅͅ.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back. I promise. Let’s just focus on these guys for now, ok?”

“Yes, we agree.”

The conversation only took a moment. Autumn spoke fast, as did the voices. They finished before the next cyclopean could lunge.
Kit, however, was not so impressed. He frowned, watching as the cyclopean fell at an alarming rate. Autumn was never this powerful before. It didn’t seem to be a bad thing. She was surviving, quite well actually, but she seemed to be enjoying this battle. It was as if she had forgotten her life was at stake. He tossed the thought aside. There was no way Autumn would forget something that important.

“Yes, of course.” He replied to Haru.

“Goddess damn you Harper.” Kit mumbled, hastily digging through his bag. Surely he had something, anything, to keep the boy from getting killed. Luck dust, no that wouldn’t do that was close range. Daggers? Not unless he planned to throw them away. Sea water, sea water, did he have anything that conjured sea water? No, of course not. His warrior worked with spirits, not the sea.

“Autumn, get back and cover Harper!” He shouted, giving up on looking through his bag.

Autumn quickly ran over to Harper, slashing at any cyclopean that dared to attack. This wasn’t good. She was doing fine moving at her own pace, but now that she had to protect someone the spirits were getting confused.

“Cover him also.” Autumn called out to the spirits. It took them a second, but they agreed. They drained energy and attacked as they did before.



“h̶̅̉̿̒̓͑̓͑̎҉̴̺͇̰̦̠͈͝e̵͔͙̮̬̣͓̬̪͙̱̫̭͓͍͎̜̐ͪ̔̾̎̿͌̇̊̕͝ ̴̡̥̪̬̗̜̼̲͕̣̺̗͍͒̋͂̔̐̀͋̀̀w̧̎ͭ̂͂̀ͮͧͮ̏͛͏̷̡̺̥̺͇͇͙̳̫̩͚̟a̷̹̙̤͖͓̞̗̹̮ͭ̔ͯ́̀ͯ̽͆̍ͪ͝s̆͐̈́͋ͧ͌̄̏̽̌̽̓͂̈̄̚͏́҉͍͖̲͉̪̜̥̯̩̮̖ͅn̉̋̊̀ͯ̊ͮͯ͌ͩͮ̿̇̅̈́̾ͥͬ̓͏̸̸̢̧̥̳̳̟̠̝̜͓͉̙͎'̷̴̖̣̪͖͚̮̘̥͍̲̇̓́͆ͫͧ͞ţ̰͕̥͔̝̹̼̰̎̐̈́̋̈ͨ͛̍ͬ̽̒͆ͧ́͢ ̢̙̺̦͈̻̪̠̻̫͂̈́̊͛̔̌ͤ͗ͭ̇̃͡p͍͙̥̯̝̺͈͕͉̞̜̱̎͂ͩ̉̄͗́̑̐͗̎ͫ̎ͭ̾ͮ̆͆̀̀ą̸̠̪̼̘͖̥͖͇͙͓͎̞̮̙̫̹̬̭̒ͥ̃̎̑̅̕͡͠ŕ̴̡̖͎͔̼̺͔̫̯̟̞͎̫̙̝̣̌̒ͮͣ̂̿ͪͩ̌̈ͬt̢̲͕͉̱̞̘̂ͫ̎ͣ̇ͮ̅̃ͤ̈ͫͥ͘͟͜ ̸͙̲̘̮͑̇̂̿ͮͩ̚ͅo̢̻̰̼̻̞͂̈̂ͯͫͮ̓͊ͮ́̕͞f̸̵̗̮͖̘̞͉͈̗̪̊͒ͮͤ̍́ͩͯ͐̀͞ ͭͮͥͮͭ͋́̄͊͏̷̛҉̺̫̤̳t̤͔̝̟͈̼̖͈̥̭̦̠̘̗̹̘̆ͣ̓͂ͪ͝͠͡h̷̹͓̯̟̹̖̙ͣ̑ͮ̀̈̒ͣͩͭ͢͡ḛ̢̧̮̝̞̦͖̗̠̭̦̥̬ͣ͗̓ͪ̏͛͑̋̈́̋͒̚̚̚ͅ ̧̡͉̦̝͎͈̯͓͇͖͕̘̯͈̟̹̖͖̅̊̈ͧ̑̒̃ͩ͆ͩ̋ͯ͑̏̇̍̽͋́͢d̓͒͒ͭ͊ͮ̈́̈́͑̊̌̊͛͏̭̠̼͇̺̘̪̗̠̲̻̦̜̺͜ě̏̈̋ͦ͒̍͛̒̓͒̄̑̎͂͋̚̕͝͏̷̺̠͍͍̥̟̗̰̣͔͚̦͖̝̱̟͕͙̙aͯ͑̋ͨͯ̊̋̄̆͐̈́̿͊͏͏͓̫͚̥͖͕l̵̡̛̼͕̳͖͓̝̙̤͉̺̤̻̫̋͋ͨ͐̎ͦͥ̀͒̌ͤ͂̾̐̕ ”


“Not right now, ok?”

“.͇͎̮̣̠̰̚~̳̹̟̦̙-͠.̴͇͎̜̬͓̎͂/͙ͦ “

Things were going so well when she was fighting on her own.

“Harper! Come on, wake up! Now’s not the time to be scared!” Autumn called out to Harper, though she didn’t turn to face him. She was far too busy focusing on draining the energy of the closest cyclopeans.

“His weapon stabs better.” Someone whispered.

“Harper, I can drain their energy pretty easily but your trident can stab better than my war scythe. Stab them when they start falling or swaying, ok? That means that their energy is low and they’re less likely to be able to kill you.” She swung her weapon at a weakened cyclopean a few times before it shattered.

“I mean, they can still kill you, but the chances are lower!”

She was right about one thing, the guardians would be separated from their warriors for the actual test, but they still weren't far away. They could watch over the kids from above. This pleased Haru. He was practically giddy as he looked around and called orders, and Nikita grinned. Apparently, he hadn't given up like she thought. He just needed a break. She had no way to judge him for that, as of the guardians, she had been with these children the shortest time.

After he left, she had seen changes in them. Most she considered good, so she didn't blame him. Not that she would anyway. Sometimes she was actually proud of these kids, like when they offered suggestions this morning. She did wonder what would happen next, though. Twelve children against an army of cyclopean was definitely not a fair fight. Her grin faded as she thought of it, but like she had been the whole time she kept her fears from showing on her face or posture. She nodded to Haru's orders regarding them, but after assessing where the pulley for the platform was, she stayed close to the cannon. She wanted to be the one to use it when the time comes.

From her vantage point, she noted Harper freeze and heard Ondine shouting. She frowned but turned to the guardian. "The only access to sea water is the port. It's completely impractical to expect anyone up here to have any. He just needs to trust his weapon and his team, and so do we. Look, Autumn's already trying to help." She spoke gently and moved to bring the other woman over to show her.

Kyle grumbled after the guards practically pushed them over the edge of the drawbridge and left them, but he kept his mouth shut until Haru ordered them to move. He gave a whoop, way too excited to fight monsters, but he had waited a long time to actually fight. Trent's despicable treatment of the group, two weeks of taunts that he couldn't defend himself against, anger with Harper and Xabier's behavior. All that came to a head right here, right now. The guards basically threw them to the dogs and hid away in their fortress.

He growled and pulled a wave over the closest cyclopeans, bowling them over and drowning them. He only had limited arrows, so he would save them for when he knew he could get a clear target. He also did his best not to lose any of that water, by pulling it back into those spheres he used for the puddle in the cell. He didn't want the moat to go dry before they were done here. There remained the river, but he wasn't sure how close it flowed past their present position. The water bombs went right back into the fray to throw any surviving beasts into another warrior's attack or against a sharp rock or tree to finish the job. The power in his hands made him giddy, but he knew he couldn't keep it up forever.

The rest of the time they spent in the cell was pretty uneventfully drab. Jason couldn't really practice his coordinated maneuvers and attacks with his doppelgangers in such an enclosed space. He couldn't accomplish much with his illusionary skills either because after all this time he still couldn't concentrate enough. Any mirage he tried to conjure up would unravel and fall apart, so what he imagined would have been one of his best weapons was completely useless. Most of what he ended up doing was thinking and talking.

When Kyle wasn't... well, doing Kyle stuff, Jason would either try to engage him in random conversations or strategy talk. He didn't think his friend minded... usually. When left to himself or in silence, Jason started to notice certain things about some of his comrades. Like Xabier. Now, Jason liked Xabier, and he thought Kyle did as well, but the two suddenly started acting as if the other didn't exist. Why? Of course, Xabier wasn't paying Jason much attention lately either. But Harper... There was definitely something weird going on with Harper an Xabier. Plus they both seemed to be ignoring Skylar. Well, Jason guessed he didn't really have to worry about that because Kyle spent a good amount of time with her. Tallyho and the others, however, seemed to be pretty normal, especially when Haru reappeared.

As soon as the cat guardian returned as his old self, Jason could swear he felt some kind of weight lift from the group. The atmosphere was somehow more relaxed, and it hit him just how important Haru's presence was to their group. Jason was just glad the cat's claws were retracted... for now at least.

Then the day came and Haru had them gather around to talk about strategy. The strategy was pretty much just 'do what Haru says' and 'don't die.'Kyle mentioned something about teamwork, which Jason thought would be a good idea. Especially since he would have to be fighting at a constantly close range. Even with his doppelgangers, he thought it would be best for him, and for everyone else, if they could work together and back each other up. However, it didn't seem like anyone else paid the thought much attention.

“It’s time.”

It took Jason a second to understand what that little statement meant. When it finally hit him, his flippant personality wasn't enough to keep a little fit of panic from gripping him. He took deep breaths until he was able to regain his composure.

A game. It's just a game. A game we gotta win. No biggie. We just have to avoid dying. Jason continued to talk himself into thinking of fighting the flock as a game even as they entered the place they'd be fighting at.

Like the Hunger Games! Wait... no, bad comparison. He shook his head to clear it. Uh, then, maybe like Gimli and Legolas competing... He cleared his head with another shake. If any of his companions heard his thoughts, he was pretty sure they'd skin him, so competition would not be happening. Well, for now he would just think of it as a game and come up with how to play later.

Jason's attention was snapped to the horizon with a bark... he couldn't really call it a mew... from Haru. He noticed Tallyho slip out or her armor before settling in a ready stance. Jason was actually glad for the armor. It wasn't really heavy enough on him to effect his movements that much, and plus he'd be fighting a Cyclopean army at close range. Sure he had an advantage with his clones, but still. These were the times he wondered why his spirit weapon had to be long twin daggers. Not even short sword. Daggers. Couldn't he have had something like Kyle's bow and arrows, or a chain-scythe or something?

He sighed, gripping the hilts of the daggers strapped to his thighs and unsheathing them, falling down into a ready stance. He didn't tense until he saw the first of the Cyclopeans coming. They were coming fast. He was about to panic again, but then another line from one of his favorite books came back to him and he smiled nervously, panic overridden by adrenaline. This would be a game of chance. He braced himself, waiting for Haru's cue and quoting Mat Cauthon,

"It's time to toss the dice."

"GO!"

And they went, Tallyho seeming to take the lead. Jason focused, his two doppelgangers coming into existence. He kindly let his reflexes take over, automatically calculating movements, slashes, thrusts, stabs, etc. as he worked together with his clones as a three man team with one mind. To the onlooker, it may have seemed as though Jason was demented from how he appeared to be smiling while killing these things, but in reality, he was simply clenching his jaw too hard. Heck, he didn't even enjoy training.

He and his clones executed different combinations and strategies which sometimes either worked off of or helped another warrior. Occasionally, one of his clones would get hit and disappear, and he'd have to concentrate to form another to replace it. He came to be grateful for the little armor they'd given him because one Cyclopean managed to glaze his chest. With the armor, the wound ended up as a simple surface wound. Without the armor, he would have been a gone. Luck seemed to be on his side in this game. He wondered how much longer that luck would last.

Ondine immediately jerked away from the April Guardian. "Do not touch or patronize me, Nikita," she hissed, fingers curling into a fist, "I will hear no words from you either, especially considering how your ward has plenty of his own element. In fact, out of everyone, Harper is the only one without access to his element. Even December can freeze her water."

She looked back down at the fighting. The June warrior was finally moving, but of course in the opposite direction of the swarm. Any cyclopean he did kill were purely out of chance and entirely unintentional.

It was cruel. Ondine knew that Harper was easily the most gifted in the elemental department and was absolutely hopeless with his weapon, preferring to shine it rather than use it.

But of course they would take the one thing he was good at. Of course.

Ondine had half a mind to lower the platform for him, but she had a feeling he wouldn't take it...the wall was easily many times too high for him, and she didn't want to risk a panic attaack.

She couldn't help him. Couldn't extract him. Nothing. She had nothing.


It seemed to happen in an instant. In between him dodging and dashing away, only barely registering Autumn's instructions.

He had half a mind to just dive into the moat and take his chances there--even if his chances had a high probability of Kyle drowning him--when it happened.

He suddenly felt dry.

No sweat. Literally.

It took him a couple more seconds to realize that the beads of sweat were hovering around him, like small stars...quivering droplets suspended in midair...so small he almost missed it. He was only able to really comprehend this for a second before something big and black barelled into him, scrabbling at his leather armor, scratching his face, slicing his arms, flinging the trident out of reach.

Or so he thought.

After what felt like hours of frantic reaching, the trident was suddenly in his grasp, sweaty and slippery for a moment as he dug it between himself and the monster and wrenched up, piercing it through. The shards scattered on top of him like rain, but when he stood up he was still...dry. No copious amounts of panicked sweat, or even tears. Not even saliva from the Cyclopean, which he had definitely felt.

No. He didn't feel any of it. And his mini universe had grown bigger.

A grin spread on his face.

Yes. Yes. THIS he could work with.

Hiding behind a building, he immediately started working. He gathered the salty fluids to him, centering on his left hand. There was more than he expected...at least a liter? Two? Jeez, how much had he been sweating?

Didn't matter now.

With a mental flick, he sent the water spinning into each other, picking up speed until it could have been mistaken for a clear plastic ring. He snaked it around his wrist as it raged, faster and faster, tighter and tighter, sqeezing, compressing, until it had the strength of a whirlpool and the width of a needle.

The ground shook beneath him and he looked up. A cyclopean had found him once more.

He lashed his wrist forward, eyes narrowing as the monster roared at him, jaws gaping. And he released.

The water shot forth so quickly he missed it when he blinked. And for a terrible second he thought he had missed entirely. But when the cyclopean staggered, a thin spurt of blood ejecting from its throat, Harper knew it had worked.

Summoning the water back to him, he jumped forward, trident in hand, and finished the job.

He continued fighting like this, pressure jetting and stabbing, until he even started to progress forward in the ranks.

He even laughed.

Finally. Finally. Things were going his way.

Skylar wasn’t sure anything could have prepared her for that moment.

She stood in line with the others, not sure if her legs were shaking from nerves or the cumbersome armor adorning her petite frame. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding so hard that she felt like she might pass out.

For as confident and sure as she tried to come across, she was scared shitless.

“GO!”

Bryce shook his head from where he was standing with the other guardians, arms folded across his chest as he watched the warriors scatter. His pale eyes narrowed, an unreadable expression on his face.

They were doing it all wrong. For as much as he enjoyed working alone, these kids needed to work together and play off each other’s strengths and weaknesses to succeed. Sure, Autumn was doing an incredible job at controlling her spirits, but it would get her nowhere if her war scythe was incapable of finishing them off. Why didn’t Harper listen to her?

His gaze travelled to Skylar, brows furrowing. He knew how out of practice she had been from their two months on the ship and their two weeks in prison, plus the fact that like Autumn’s war scythe, her mallet would get her nowhere.

Bryce let out a sigh.

Skylar froze.

Snap the fuck out of it, she thought to herself, her gaze locked on the quickly approaching Cyclopeans. Come on you good for nothing piece of shit, snap out of it!

It was at that moment that everything seemed to click into place, her mindset shifting like a tectonic plate. One sudden movement was all it took for everything to shake.

Skylar's mallet fell to the ground with a thud as she raised both arms in the air, fingers curling until they were fists. Any loose earth on the ground flew upwards, floating in midair. She thrust her arms forward, the rocks shooting towards the oncoming Cyclopeans. A few stumbled, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make any real progress.

Finding a way to fight would be harder than she originally thought. She wasn’t sure how much damage she could do- her powers allowed her to cause earthquakes and rip earth from the ground, but it came at a price. Ordinarily she was capable of much more, but the combination of lack of concentration and practice was putting a strain on her.

All those years of training and this is what you do? Pathetic.

Skylar darted in the other direction, running as fast as the armor would allow her as she struggled to think of a more effective way of fighting. She whipped her head around, lower lip caught between her teeth as she searched for her answer.

And there it was.

She stopped in front of a boulder, hoisting her mallet up over her shoulders. The weapon almost slipped out of her sweaty grasp as she repeatedly swung at the rock until it was broken up enough to use. Dropping the mallet, she bent over to examine her handiwork- several very sharp pieces of rock in varying sizes.

She could work with this.

"So what? If Kyle was unable to use his powers, I'd say the exact same thing. Trust the team. There are twelve month warriors and half of them have opposite powers. Where one is weak the other is strong. Are you saying we should all fuss, complain, and make a scene when our own individual warrior is weak and ignore the fact that there are twelve warriors? All twelve have to finish the course and therefore they MUST work together." Feeling herself tense up, she paused and took a deep breath.

Nikita turned back to the agitated Ondine, calm and composed. "Two weeks ago, you said that the mission wasn't all about Harper, and you were exactly right. It's not all about Harper or Kyle or you or me. The only individual that matters is the Goddess, and She wants these twelve for Her work, all twelve of them. All of them together as a fully functioning team. " The April Guardian turned away and leaned on the edge with a grimace. She muttered bitterly to herself, "We're just tools to get there." Biting her lip, she looked around. She hoped that none of the other guardians heard her complaint. It may be true, but her bitter tone would not be welcome.

General Cress also seemed to be distracted. Lightning blasts, cyclopeans stumbling around as if drunk without obvious reason, and a tidal wave washing over them. Yeah, those should be able to keep his attention. How long could the kids keep it up though? Several monsters were already gone, but there were more.

After throwing out the tidal wave and using up the leftover water-bombs, he felt the strain on his power. He never tried such a large attack before, but he wouldn't deny being proud of himself for it. Still. this is only the first wave and he didn't see the big cyclopean they expected yet. He needed to save as much of his energy as he could for that one. He also expected getting rid of the big one would lead the smaller monsters to scatter, expected and hoped. The twelve of them alone against an army, made him extremely uncomfortable after the euphoria of battle started fading.

Problem though. To save his energy, he needed to use his equally restricted arrows. Not only that, but the monsters were too close for him to shoot. He growled again; this time at the extreme unfairness of this test. He reached for some more water bombs as he started dancing around the fringe of the battle seeking space to shoot from. Every arrow needed to be a bullseye and kill instantly to be worth it.

If he heard the conversation between his and Harper's guardians, he would have thought Ondine overestimated him. Yes, he has greater access to his powers, but they cost him more than using his physical weapon. As long as he's been alive, he's always been stronger with physical activities in strength and endurance. Endurance he needed now.

It took every ounce of willpower not to do the April Guardian some sort of bodily harm. That holier-than-thou attitude was growing more infuriating by the second. Ondine ignored her as best she could. Snapping back would just give Nikita more to answer to, and right now the June Guardian just wanted her to shut up. Two seconds after the fox finished speaking, Ondine moved away wordlessly, putting distance between the two of them.

On the bright side, it looked as if Harper had figured something out. Ondine hadn't been able to see what he had done exactly, from her vantage point, but somehow he had water, even if it was just a small amount. And somehow, he made it work. Again, the makeshift pressure jet was too thin for Ondine to see, but she could definitely see Cyclopeans falling before him, presumably from his doing, and him stabbing them, and that was all that really mattered.

Still. There was so much more to come. The June Guardian just hoped that her warrior could hold out until the end.


It was in 5th grade that Harper had started competitively swimming.

It had only seemed natural. He'd been swimming as soon as he could walk, and when the option rose up, he dove in immediately. This was also back when his father still had hopes for him.

He had excelled easily, just from sheer experience and talent. Winning was easy. Sprinting, Long-distance, relays...he only needed to swim and he'd win. It was almost habit.

Things changed in high school. The competition widened. Now he wasn't the only one who was talented. Wasn't the only one who had been swimming all their life. Wasn't the only one who loved to swim. And everyone else was taking it more seriously than him.

He had tried to take it seriously. Or, more seriously. It became evident that sprinting was not for him. He was fast, but the pressure to be the fastest and to keep going faster was too much. Not to mention he didn't get to enjoy his time in the water.

So he competed in the longer heats. Where timing and endurance and knowing when to start the final sprint were crucial. It was more to think about, but somehow less stressful. It felt more natural in a way. He had longer time to spend swimming, and could actually enjoy some of it.

He'd gotten quite good, one of their top swimmers, but his terrible grades eventually got him kicked off the team, and everything fell apart. Sometimes he still practiced, in the harbor, in a public pool, sometimes even in the ocean. Yet he realized just how much he had depended on knowing how far he'd needed to swim. While muscle memory had ingrained 100, 200, and 400 meters in his brain, he could still never be sure, and it was strangely discouraging to see more water where his fingers had expected hard wall. The distance had become crucial to him when it came to competitive endurance...Harper had to know just how far he'd be swimming in order to keep up. There needed to be some sort of landmark to set his sights on, an other side, a finish line. Otherwise...

He nearly fell over when a large cyclopean barreled into him, his pressure jet starting wobble out of control. He managed to snap it back together, to shoot the devil in the mouth before spearing upwards. Yet as the black shards rained on him, he had half a mind to just lay there. How much farther was there? How much longer would he need to swim? As he stood up he could feel his muscles aching, his limbs grow heavier, the trident uncomfortable to hold.

He was getting tired. And unmotivated. He didn't want to swim anymore.

“Now that’s the spirit. I heard most men from Hales lost a finger or two before they were eight. But… You don’t look nearly as rugged as some of those brutes over yonder, yeah?”

Falke barely inclined his head in agreement, but remained silent, even as the General obviously began referring to certain members of the group of POWs on the other side of the room, burying themselves of idle chatter even as they attempted to ignore the present of the young (if not awful persona, is what he ought to be labeled as) noble-man. It was the truth, he guessed, anyhow. Save for the nasty scar that decorated just under his left ear and a chunk of his throat line, well hidden by that damn confining collar of the doublet, Falke was relatively unmarred - and yes, all his fingers were accounted for.

It seemed to have gone easy enough, but Falke was hardly surprised upon following his own polite, rather unassuming introduction, that the General, Cress, immediately invaded his person space with a finger flashing in front of, calling names, and laughed hard, a deep belly laugh, in his face. To be entirely truthful, it was something he suspected had been a long time coming; and certainly he was infuriated and flustered at the same time about it, nothing could be done for him - an invalid, ice-brute.

Being named an invalid was a common enough hurt, an old wound to his soul. And while he wasn't certain the direct meaning behind 'ice-brute', except that it sounded like a region-st slur, or close enough to one that it was definitely not anything nice to say at the very least. He was offended by the overall exchange, but remained lock-jawed and indifferent, silently continuing to avoid eye-contact. Playing the game, so that the others and himself could hopefully survive until another sunrise, and/or the next test.

Lillian breathed an uneasy sigh of relief with a brief flare of her nostrils in relative silence, before returning to a thin, neutral lip. Calming her minutely trembling fingers with a gentle squeeze. No, the situation wasn't as in control as it could be, but with a man like the General there wasn't much telling that anyone (let alone Haru, even) on their side would be able to rein in control; but Falke had handled himself well enough, keeping his thoughts on the situation in check and the overall success of the group as a whole on his mind.

“Tallyho Abel. February. The Sun People.”

Tallyho had moved to speak. Taking the mic and laughing spot-light off himself, if for a brief moment. He could feel her, much like a second mind underneath his skin; a seething rage for his own recent treatment, the redness still prickling her cheeks from her last comment, and emotions of anticipation of what the General's opinion of her "nation" was going to be. She kept herself as calm and poised as she could, and Falke gave her all of the silent mental support that he could in the against a verbal opponent that could care less about any one person - much less not too trodden on physical disabilities, ethnic/cultural groups, emotions, etc. No, he delighted in it, seemingly.

/Falke, I’m going to murder him in his sleep.\
/I know, I know the dirty pig deserves it, and I vould help, but... Figuratively, only...\

Goddess above! Was it almost over? Falke didn't know how long Tallyho would last much longer holding herself together with slightly flared nostrils, tight lips, and tense muscles, or frankly... How even he, with his surprising lengthy patience and forced/falsified good will attempts, would be able to last another 10 introductions of everyone else without potentially losing a screw, or two, in the process. Especially as the General went right ahead, recapping all of the insults from the past minute - Falke the invalid, and Tallyho the prostitute (dancer, singer, performing 'monkey'); daring another to step forward and amuse him even more.

"Dorian, also of Hales, sire. I am the March Warrior."
"Heyyy, Mr. General, sir. The name's Harper. June warrior, from the Trading Isles. Nice to meet ya. How ya doin'? I'm actually also the Officially Designated Asshole of the group, and I gotta say, you're kinda cramping my style. I mean, you know what they say about assholes... You only need one."
"Harper!"

Falke felt like one of the accidental times that Tallyho had shocked him good. Good as in not so great feeling, not at all quite like a mild static shock you could just shake off. Making it feel like his blood was hardly moving at all, chugging at an impossibly slow pace, and filled with ice-cubes - running cold. Was Harper trying to get them all killed? It was getting hard keeping an indifferent posture and blank face, but he remained outwardly calm. Let the General laugh it off, again, hopefully keeping moving forward, please...

"I am Jason of Solace, the warrior of August. I humbly ask you excuse my friend, Sire. However, with all due respect, Sire, making assumptions and judging one's ability and value based by appearances and nationality tends towards a poor judgment, no?"
"Xabier Sanchez of Constance, Sire. October Warrior."
“I am Autumn Jones, sire. I am the November Warrior and I am also from Solace.”
"Excuse my friends, most excellent general, it's been a rough couple days and many of us aren't quite used to the... Environment of your fair city. Oh, you want me to introduce myself? Kyle Keaton, April Month warrior at your service."
"Actually, Sire, I’m emerald. Skylar Grayson of Constance, May month warrior.”

Could it get worse? Yes, yes it could. Even with the helpfully polite, calm, and solid introductions of a few others. Most seemed more than willing to throw their lives away, less than helpful to their cause, and apparently wanting to die wholeheartedly - rotting with sarcasm and venom oozing in their tones.

Shocked silent, he didn't move, Falke stared. Not in a way designed to be particularly rude, but in an unabashed, piercing, inquisitive way that made you wonder if you have food on your face or your skirt is tucked into your underpants. He couldn't believe he was even here with these, these... Whatever, and stuck in this mess, and... Goddess above, they wanted everyone to die. They were willing to put their lives on the line because of simply insulting words. Yes, they hurt, of course they did, when it was directed at you or someone you cared about, but it wasn't worth dieing for.

“Actually I seem to have forgotten. Oops... Alright I’m done here!”
“Ah, with all due respect. I must know the details about the flock… ”
“Oh, oh, oh right… Yeah… I don’t really feel like telling you inbreeds anything really. You’ll see when you get there. After all, it’ll end the same way.”

General Cress just laughed, giggling maniacally as he kicked up his heels like an idle school girl, and left with nothing but a smirk on his lips. Haru was at a staggering loss, with no knowledge of the future to come, or anything they remotely needed to know in order to survive the next few weeks until facing an army of cyclopean with 12 warriors, and half the number of Guardians. Ondine launched herself at Harper, leaving the latter a pathetic slobbering mess and the former strolling away like nothing had happened. Skylar attempting to tell a joke to lighten the situation. Then Xabier attempting to comfort his 'friends', in varying amounts of emotional intent and meaning behind his words. And Tallyho...

Through their mental link, he felt her guilt, despite it not being her or his own fault of being called names, but by lighting the match of situation at hand that had been started from that very exchange. He could assume he would have felt it himself, even if a ridiculous notion in the long run if however somewhat reasonable to think at first, but he was overwhelmed and mentally incapacitated by the raging cerebral crackle from everyone in the room.

It was painful work, separating himself from the panicked thoughts, stupid ideas and ideals, and chaotic anger and fury, and it only got worse after Haru exploded into a rant. Feelings of anger or hopelessness or sadness or pity, others stress and stressors rolled across his inner circuits like a live wire and puddle of water unfortunately having the opportunity to mix together. It took all his energy not to wince at the onsault, calming his own mind steadily - silent, lock-jawed, and wordless.

“Shut up little man or I’ll give you something to really complain about!”

Falke blinked, a moment of clarity in the storming sea of mental activity, as everything froze. The echo of Haru's biting words finally catching up to him, understanding them, and only now feeling the traces of guilt butterflying deep in his gut. And then, Haru darted across the room into a magnificent brawl with the ex-solider who had made the latest quip, joined by fellow guardians, Ryou and Ondine, and other POW soldiers, the pressure returned for a brief moment - slowly becoming background noise again as he focused to ignore everyone else's chattering minds wanting to be heard and calm himself.

...(wip)

-x-x-x-

Two weeks later...
(WIP)

The flock of cyclopeans were fast. They always had been during training, but instead of waiting for the swarm to close the distance, Falke darted forward in a blink of an eye at Haru's bellow "Go!". Having enough presence of mind to bolt far to the side of Tallyho's screaming, lightning-inducing fit of rage and terror, before crashing into the first wave himself - meeting beasts with his dual-bladed weapon whirling out in front of him – a rapid series of slashes broken by the occasional lightning thrust.

Colored sparks showered out every time the blades met talons, and black gold spilled and sprayed as flesh was parted. It felt as if they were fighting in a blizzard of miniature stars and oily blood. His assault was unrelenting, aggressive, and precise. Even after months on the ship and two weeks stuck in prison, the cuts and parries came so swiftly from muscle memory and properly useful fear aiding him on. Monstrous alien screams and heavy appendages slammed hard into his upraised weapon, so that he felt the shock all the way to his bitingly sore leg when they hit. Ghastly wails accompanied by shattering onyx shards signaled the collapsing fall of a cyclopean. And on, and on, and on it went...

Falke wasn't sure what sparked a sudden sense of intuition, much less something that would have came from the mindless gargles and growls, hisses and spits. But he glanced upward at a spare moment, drawing a brief ragged breath, before being sucked back into the hard pressed melee of the frontal lines forces bashing. Minute rays of sunlight flashed across his grime and sweat-stained cheeks, barely alluding to the touch of a gentle warmth, quite unlike the raging battle-ground around him stifling heat. It had faded in strength since they'd been brought out first, near the point of time that the sun began its fall below the horizon, to now a time he could only guess at being dusk falling ever closer to night.

Yes, that was it. The bigger ones would be coming when they lost light, and probably focus their efforts on the gates, walls, and month warriors who's powers perchance gave off a little more light and energy than the next. Which would be soon then, one could only hope or assume. Effectively putting them even more in the dark, and while Falke had dim memories of being able to see a faded light once when he was young than continued to fade into nothing - he still well understood the basic human fear of the dark, and how well (or unwell for them technically) it could be used against them or to another's advantage.

Falke's limited powers had felt as if they were useless and/or petering out by the roaring thoughts of the others running on the back-burner as white incomprehensible background noise, even as they had ramped themselves up for the battle, and during it thoughts and emotions and feelings were likely abundant and loud; but they were to quiet to feel or tell about whatever was going on, so he'd ignored it, focusing on the task at hand - fighting, and trying to not die namely.

But now, he focused with a agonized wince at the familiarly painful experience as Haru's frantic, nearly excited, and focused aura of mental activity crashed into his mind eagerly. Putting his own slowly growing weariness in his braced and wrapped leg, and his anticipating emotions of rage and useful fear on the back burner of his own mind - in order to not distract from the task in hand. At least not anymore than keeping his weapon and himself moving in the midst of the fray, multi-tasking for now apparently; he hadn't figured it was possible, but whatever, it seemed to be working.

Idly he transferred his own thoughts and intuition about the coming events and potential figures, sometimes snagging something possibly useful to Haru's knowledge from one of the other month warriors or cyclopean he grappled with that had been loud enough enough that he'd even 'heard it, and keeping a mind's eye out to the others situations - he wasn't a healer by any means like Gwen, who's word he'd definitely trust over his own, but he still could give vague information to the fiery haired guardian when asked of it, mostly, more or less.

/The bigger ones should start arriving soon, what do you wanxdrctfgvybhuji...\

The mental connection abruptly shorted as the arm he had been dodging around, lashed out in another direction he hadn't intended on it going - namely, in the direction of his head. Falke gasped between gritted teeth, staggering dazed look in his eyes, even as he ducked again, swinging the stave up with deliberate perhaps orthodox method of getting rid of that dammed arm with a haphazard slice. Before his brain finally caught up his sixes and sevens, and he finally dispatched the beast - giving himself a momentary breath to collect himself.

/What do you want me to tell the others to do?\

Falke finished, shortly. Oi, so much for multi-tasking with his powers and fighting at the same time. Goddess above, that had rattled his noggin good. He shook his head with an odd twitching movement, as if that would make anything run faster upstairs, to try and rid himself of the lingering disorientation - before jumping back into the fore-line in continued silent, exhausted rage.

...

On the top of the wall, Lillian had placed herself to Haru's immediate left. As other Guardian's seemed more than intent to man the cannon when the time came or haul up a warrior or two whenever extraction would be needed. Ryou as his right handed man already had likely claimed the other side. And for the fact that she simply had sharp eyesight; while an extra set wouldn't necessarily be needed, but more than appreciated if need be.

Her dark eyes, narrowed in the limiting light, danced from one warrior to the next to the cyclopeans still coming, on and on. Calculating and silent, measuring everything with equal interest and purpose. They were doing well enough, for now...

"Idiot!" He growled under his breath. As Kyle was running laps around the edge of the battlefield, occasionally tossing in a water bomb or two to knock monsters off his tail, he stopped to see Harper wavering and picked up his pace. He hated that jerk, but he always ended up being responsible for him in one way or another. That was starting to grate on his nerves too. They were a team. They were a team. He repeated the litany in his head to keep from turning some of his rage on the "resident asshole" that jerk dubbed himself. Being an asshole wasn't something to be proud of, but apparently he was otherwise useless. Why were they stuck with him? He took a ragged breath.

They were a team. "Harper, you have a choice to make. Either break out of your little Harper bubble and actually pay attention to other people who are trying to help you or stay here on the ground and die. The only way any of us can accomplish anything is if we work together. Now what are you going to do?"

While he gave his ultimatum, he nocked an arrow in his bow. Harper may have fallen here but he did have a little space to shoot and he would use it. As the light faded, these moments he had would be more crucial, because his weapon would be completely useless if he couldn't even see his targets.

Haru grunted. Was this really happening right here? Right now? Ondine and Nikita, verbally brawling. Ondine, in her selfish-selfless way, wailing over the wellbeing of Harper and only Harper as Nikita (though Haru could agree with the most basic part of her logic) delivered a particularly patronizing speech down at her contemporary. Haru chose not to involve himself. He just let them bark it out because if he said anything then he would have to take responsibility for his words and fraction his attention in trying to observe the warriors by also dissolving the domestic situation on the wall. He figured Harper was going to be fine, be it by his own skill or the help of his comrades, and that’s exactly what he ended up being. Fine. No one expected him to enjoy this. This was what real battle was. It was pain and surprise and self-doubt—things that even a thousand training sessions could not replicate in the rawest form.

Quite a crowd had gathered along the walls of Ve Marie. The military kept the civilians off of the front fourth of the wall, reserving the space for the guardians and officials. But despite this their presence was still prominent. Haru could actually hear some of the commentary coming from the “soap box” and it was funny because some of the same people who bowed and prayed for the souls of these wretches were lunged forward out of their seats. Hanging over the wall with their butts in the air, mooning any poor shmuck who happened to be situated behind one of those many gregarious viewers. They believed now. They believed. Haru looked at General Cress, and through the commanding officer’s face softened in contrast to his reaction at the first blow, Haru was convinced that he believed too.

Tallyho had given it her all in the beginning. But now, as the mass of bodies thinned, she began to retreat, stumbling back for her own safety, more conscious of the fragility of life and her self-worth and oh what the hell, she didn’t want to die and she didn’t have the energy left in her to guarantee life either. Instead she meandered near the moat, whisking lazy jabs at any random cyclopean who happened to be weakened by Autumn’s energy feasting yet strong enough to wield a desire to feast.

/What do you want me to Tell the other’s to do?/

This was exactly what Haru wanted to hear. He had an idea.

/I want you, Autumn, Kyle, and Tallyho to get on a platform and come up for the second wave. Tell the others to hold ground./
As he thought this Haru moved to the cranks, forgetting to urge the other guardians to assist or even to announce his plan, it wasn’t until he stumbled into Lillian that he regained his sense of self.

“Alright let’s lower a platform.”

Why did he choose these particular warriors? Well Falke and Autumn seemed to be a lot more efficient with their passive powers without the extra distraction of being slain. And Tallyho and Kyle had exactly what he wanted for the big cyclopean. It was just a matter of getting them recharged and at appropriate vantage points.

Haru unwound the crank and a large wooden platform, once elevated by tight, strong rope, came rippling down into the moat until buoyant. The rope, wriggled in S-waves and darkened in the water.
Haru called the names of the warriors he decided on as loudly as they could incase Falke couldn’t get the message across before he nodded to the other guardians for volunteers to help crank them up.

Tallyho heard her name called by Haru just as she received Falke’s message. She located the platform rather easily and made an unenthusiastic jog for it. Once she was floundering out on the dampened wood like a starfish on the beach she waited for the others to come and just as they were half way up the wall the second wave was rolling down the hill. Tallyho’s eyes traced the landscape for Dorian and with them she offered all of the prayer she could muster. It didn’t take long before she felt the abrasive pinch of Haru grabbling her by both arms and hoisting her off of the platform like a particularly aggravated mother would snatch her child. Before she knew it she was on her feet at the top of the wall gazing down at the mess of it all. Haru pointed to a particularly empty space.
“I need you to go over there and take every bit of energy you’ve got left and ball it into one big mass of energy.”

“Haru, I don’t think I have enough—“

Haru wasn’t having it. He spoke harder and slower this time.

“I want you to go over there and take every bit of energy—“

“Okay!” The February warrior screeched. Her voice didn’t particularly match her poise as she stumbled to her corner.

He then turned to Kyle.

“There is a moat down there, and a river over there. I’m going to need you to take some time to gain as much control of as much water as you can and when the big cyclopean comes I’m going to have you drench it. Tallyho is going to blast it. And if you did a good enough job this should paralyze it long enough for us to blast it in the heart with this cannon. Afterwards you’re going to clean up any lingerers.”

And that was that. No questions. Haru knew that he would have to break things down for Kyle because if he didn’t they’d never get anything done.

Then there was Falke and Autumn.

“Do exactly what you were doing down there but without the fighting part. Focus more.”

The second group seemed to be a little more ferocious than the first. But perhaps it was just the contrast between the warriors just starting battle and the warriors weathered by it that would make Haru think such a thing. Tallyho was having a difficult time pulling herself together. She would try to get a surge only to have her body short-circuit. Millisecond blackouts were beginning to occur and there was nothing that Haru could do about it because she was high voltage and would probably kill him at the slightest touch despite his immortality. She closed her eyes again and again, trying to pinch out the vigor she exuded during the first wave. Her frail figure shook as the electricity conquered her veins. She wondered if Kyle was having this hard of a time. She wondered how Dorian was doing down there but she didn’t dare look for him. She might lose her focus again.

And then she began to think…that there was no way she could pull this off.

And if she did, well, it might just kill her.

Did Harper really just ignore her? Autumn grimaced, anger bubbling up in her chest. Of course. Why would she think anything else was going to happen? Harper was always a one man show. Why would a life and death situation change that?

“Harper, you get behind me or so help me I’ll-“ Autumn wasn’t able to finish her sentence before she was called over to the platform.

She left, not expecting Harper to have even listened to her or care. If Haru needed her somewhere else, that was where she would be. The spirits followed her, not bothering to stay behind to take care of the other warrior. After all, it was Autumn’s orders they were following.

Autumn ran to the platform, bursting with energy. It was an uncomfortable feeling, really. A dizziness and loss of sense of time that left her sprinting but unable to tell how far from the target she was. She had been so hyperfocused on the fight that leaving it now seemed to be a completely foreign concept. She made it, but she wasn’t sure how.

To any outside observer she merely looked as if she was running. She made it easily enough, fighting back any cyclopean who got in her way before bolting back to her destination. However, she could hardly remember it. She shook on the platform, energy swirling inside of her waiting to be distributed to the spirits. Staring wide eyed at the city before her, Autumn didn’t even notice she was at the top until Kit brought her over to the top of the wall. She wasn’t sure where his sweat came from; nervousness or helping crank the warriors up.

“Are you alright?” He asked. It was more of a formality. Both knew that he didn’t expect nor desire an answer.

“Fine.” A curt response. She didn’t have time to go in depth about how trading energy affected her.

Autumn traded off the energy, feeling her body tire and ache. As long as she wasn’t on the frontlines, that would be fine.

“Just like before.” She mumbled to the spirits, eyes darting from here to there.

“Except this time we protect everyone.”

The spirits complied, though not happily. They seemed to be more interested in protecting her than the others.

Unable to do much of anything else, Kit watched Autumn for a moment to make sure she was alright. She was speaking to herself. This in itself wasn’t a strange occurrence. She mumbled all of the time. He had always presumed she was talking to spirits. The strange thing about this, however, was that he couldn’t understand what she was saying. It was as if she was speaking in a different language. Almost. It still sounded like her. The words still sounded of the same origin as the language everyone spoke in. There was no different accent. There was just a lack of understanding.

He stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. This wasn’t right. He always understood what she said, even if she was talking to the spirits. The air felt cold. Her face looked grim. Cylcopeans stumbled about as if in a drunken stupor. Even he felt a little tired. He looked away, trying to scan the area in hopes of finding some way to help.

A sharp tsk from Autumn startled him as he turned to her once more. The air felt warmer and he felt his energy return. Had a spirit really attempted to drain his energy?

“Sorry about that. Hard to talk to this many and keep them on track. Won’t happen again.” Autumn said, obviously tired herself.

Kit understood that bit. Seemed that he could understand her just fine when she was talking to living people.

“Be careful. It’ll get dangerous if that gets out of hand.” He replied.

She only nodded, mumbling again in what sounded like a scolding tone.

Three more cyclopeans reduced to black dust with the zing of three more arrows and it still wasn't enough. It seemed so hopeless, but if this is really what they were born for, he'd never give up until his last breath. A faint nudge in his mind, and he froze temporarily. Then, deep breath. Falke. Falke was trying to tell him something. His friend's mental powers still unnerved him even after three years, but he did trust the German boy with his life. Kyle hesitated nonetheless. Hesitation could be attributed to being unable to hear him, but Haru's bellowing his name left no room for misunderstanding. He jumped but quickly controlled himself to pick Harper up from the ground and follow Autumn who apparently had also been called. Harper was left behind.

"A single tree falls to the storm, but the forest will prevail." He said as he left and hopped on the lift. Once on the wall, Kyle saw how much progress the group actually made and he smiled. They really were winning! Except, he swallowed tightly on seeing the next wave coming over the rise.

The shorter blond didn't feel any more confident when Haru gave the orders. He didn't even know how he managed the first wave attack, and now the cat-guardian expected and relied on him to do it again. What if he can't? What if he wasn't good enough? Would they all die here in their first battle? He sat down, trembling. "If you don't try, you've already failed." Haru made it plain in his previous order to Tallyho that he would hear no excuses. You WILL do what I say, no matter what! Haru in a nutshell.

He continued shaking as fear and anger warred within him. His nostrils flared, but something else pushed back his emotional stalemate. Haru trusted him to do this. The Boss was confident he actually could follow the difficult order. A half-smile touched his lips and unknown to him, a gentle spray of water splashed out of the moat, spattering whomever stood closest to it. Even so, he hadn't stopped shaking, but he closed his eyes and attempted to stand. "Goddess, give me strength. Bring Your chosen children victory," he prayed and tried to concentrate.

He knew how to gather up smaller amounts of water successfully. Now he needed to expand that reach, despite being tired from the energy he already used.I can do this. We can do this. Gather the water and hold it until the big cyclopean comes. What was he thinking? What was he feeling that first time? There must be a clue in there somewhere. Anger, fear, stress, promise of freedom... Gather it together, pull it in, wrap it up, fill it, seal it... "Arggh! Too tight! Let go." He opened his eyes. Was he sweating? He felt like a balloon ready to burst. It was hard to breathe. Come on, Kyle. You ARE the April Month Warrior. You were born to be a hero. Haru and your friends are relying on you. You can do it. You MUST do it.

The fighting had started with madness. Most of the month warriors running into the midst of it.
Electricity vibrating through the air, heavy gusts of wind whipping everything in its path, Cyclopeans scattering and being ripped to shreds.

Perhaps he should've spent more time with his weapon in the last few months instead of moping around and making eyes at Harper.
<Yes, perhaps you should have.> One of his dopplëgangers sent to him.
<And maybe then you would still have friends.>
Okay. That was harsh.
You see, not unlike his fellow European, Xabier could have full blown conversations inside his head. However, he could only speak to himself. So basically the same as a mental patient because he had arguments with the voices in his head and sometimes they won.
He had always wanted to ask Jason if he had the same experience with his dopplëgangers.
Like, did his act like a bunch of hormonal/homicidal teenagers throwing tantrums and constantly pointing out all his faults? Or was it just Xabier?

It was the weirdest sensation and probably not relatable at all but Xabier had never felt disliked in his life. People had always been friendly to him and he had lived his life surrounded by family and friends. With the fire and the betrayal, everything had shifted in his life. Suddenly no one was the same...even Xabier had noticed the change in himself. He truly didn't care about anyone or anything. Well except the obvious exceptions. It was as if the little fight that was in him had disappeared. He wasn't a doctor. Even after being prepped for years and having a shit ton of money pumped into his education, he was the "shadow guy." Gwen was the designated Healer in the group and he didn't dislike her, but it was a smack in his face every time he realised he wasn't the person everyone thought he was. Who he thought he was.

With that the Spaniard had called up his own help up.
"Ayuda! Help!"
The dopplëgangers took shape from the shadows and stood watching him.
<Okay. I need two of you to->
<No.>
Xabier started and stopped. A Cyclopean was so close to taking a chunk out of his shoulder, it's breath vile and rancid like death itself.
<What?>
The dopplëgangers just kept staring blankly.
<We said no. We're not doing anything.>
What the hell was going on?! He couldn't believe this was happening right now.
He didn't have long to think about this as the Cyclopean launched a furious attack.
It ran at Xabier, driving him back with a series of short powerful swings. He used his staff to help deflect the assault. He soon found that he didn't have the muscles for it.
Nothing was working. Xabier clutched at the Bo staff as if it was his life raft.

Holding it up against the snarling face of his foe used a lot of energy. He held on, and when he sure it was going to give in on him, he saw a gap and managed to get in a counter strike. The staff which always appeared to be made of pure wood actually had a thin layer of very small, very sharp shards of glass-like material. Like the stuff inside surgeons scalpels. The curious thing about his weapon was that it looked so useless and feeble compared to the others but it was capable of creating a lot of damage if you handle it right.

Jabbing at the curve of the Cyclopean's side where it had a weak spot. It saw it coming and moved out of the way, but it broke its rhythm, and its assault seized temporarily.
Now this would be when Xabier would call upon his clones and they'd systematically tear the Cyclopean apart. But that wasn't the case this time.

Xabier grabbed the breathing space and moved away, dancing around his enemy, loosening his muscles. He had tensed up under its attack and needed to work off any cramps before they took hold. The attack had given the Cyclopean some encouragement. It knew that it could eat this one. It almost strutted about as it moved in closer on its prey.

By way of a reply, the October month warrior suddenly lunged at it, an overarm downwards stab that took it completely by surprise. It deflected the blow only just in time and managed to knock the blow aside. Xabier was left wide open as the monster came straight at him, slicing its limbs upwards.
The impact of his own weapon slashed across his side, ripping at his armour and drawing blood from the side of his face.

"Shit!" He swore loudly and spun out off the way, but it wouldn't leave him alone for one moment, following in hard with a wild low sweep that took Xabier in the side of his shin and sent him tumbling, face first to the ground. The creature was on him, pouncing down again and again trying to get a bite. The Spaniard rolled and squirmed under the pressure so each attempt dug harmlessly into the dirt. He wasn't going to die today. Not before talking to Kyle.
Still it wasn't going to well for Xabier. This Cyclopean was vicious and it kept getting the upper hand.
He had been crippled by his dopplëgangers refusing to help him. He was looking like a goner wriggling on the ground in heavy armour.
At last the creature came very close to grazing his flesh and Xabier smashed the rim of his staff into its face so it too fell over. He scrambled up and it followed straight afterwards.
He looked around and noticed everyone else dealing with their own little battles. He'd have to deal with this on his own.
<Why are you acting like this? Why won't you fight with me?> He sent to his dopplëgangers who like the other non-month warriors, were watching in stony silence.
Xabier's face dripped blood while his foe only had a slight limp.

It pounced near him again and yet again he was back to defence.
This one was tough. And it was cocky. Every time Xabier swung at it, it moved out of the way, taunting him. Any second now it'd go in for the kill.
Xabier had other ideas. With one fast slam of the staff into the skull, he had finished the fight.
The monster collapsed under him, its screech angry and shocked. It had been so sure of itself.

Xabier staggered drunkenly and fell to the ground. God he sucked.

With every Cyclopean defeated by the other warriors, more seemed to reappear not even a second afterwards. And as the other Warriors were called up to fight he had fallen down again.
The second stage was coming.
His dopplëgangers or Iluntasuna just kept watching him struggling to keep himself up.
"Help me." He said. Tears mixed with the layer of dirt on his face.

A remaining Cyclopean dizzy from Autumn's attack stumbled up towards the Shadow warrior.
Even weakened as it was, Xabier knew that he was completely alone and no would come rescue him. He was alone. Alone.

<Help yourself> One clone shot back and they all faded into the shadows.

And then everyone started yelling at him.

By everyone, of course he only meant Kyle and Autumn. And Ondine, who was screaming at him from above to get his ass in gear. As if he didn't already know that.

He didn't necessarily ignore them, but he didn't respond either. He was already nearly to his feet when Kyle pulled him all the way up before running off to the platform, saying something about trees and forests. Honestly, what even...

The trident grew slippery, and he pulled the sweat into his pressure jet, increasing its size and speed. Get your head back in the game he tried to tell himself, clutching the trident with shaking fingers. It's not over yet...not even close...can't stop swimming now....

He could see the second wave (only the second??) rising up like a tsunami, and he looked around him wildly, doing a mental head count. Everyone else had been doing fine, right?

Yet when he saw Xabi, shaking to his feet, a Cyclopean lumbering zig-zaggedly towards him, Harper's stomach sank. No. Not everyone else was doing fine.

The monster widened its jaws and brought an arm back.

It was like flipping a switch. Suddenly the trident didn't feel as heavy. The pressure jet revved up, spinning faster and faster. Both hands gripped at his weapon, and his foot pressed off from the ground and he was running. Cyclopeans in his way were jabbed at or gunned down and he saw red and black and white flashing like a strobe light.

And then he reached it. And he was behind it. And he brought his trident back. And he stabbed it down. And he did it again. And again. And again.

"DON'T!"

TOUCH!

MY!

BOYFRIEND!"

His last stab sliced directly into the ground, clattering against the black scales. He blinked, throat raw from screaming, shoulders heaving. He looked at Xabi. His face was bleeding. And dirty. And wet. His armor was ripped. Yet somehow his hair still looked perfect.

He managed a smile as he grabbed the October warrior's hand. "Hey babe," he said as he pulled him up, "Sorry I'm late."

Screeching could be heard growing louder. The second wave was upon them. Still holding Xabi's hand, he turned to face it.

"200. 400. 600. 800," he mumbled to himself, "Free. Relay." He gave the Spaniard's hand another squeeze before letting go, grabbing his trident.

Inhale. Exhale. Control the breathing. He whistled and tensed. Fingers clasped on the edge of the pool. 200. 400. 600. 800. Free. Relay.

Beep.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeep!

"Let's kill these motherfuckers."

And there it was. Over the horizon you could see the crown of the beast’s head. If it really was a head. You see, this cyclopean—grossly deformed and oddly proportioned—did not look like most cyclopean. It burgeoned from the earth, a dark mass with tree roots peaking from the hump in its back and pieces of hay barrels tickling its shoulders frivolously like lent on a well-worn sweater. Haru peered at the horizon, leaning against the wall as if he were going to jump into battle himself—a slight tremble in his fingers. But he did not show fear on his face.

“Let them all down. Let the platforms down!”

He gestured towards the other cranks and platforms before whirling to Falke.
“Call them all back,” he yelled before stalking to the cannon. He looked at the cyclopean again, surveying its presence:

This goliath… It was so deformed that it could barely move. Lacking the nimble proportions of its smaller counterparts it tumbled down the hill, every thud of the foot shaking the earth. It had no sense of space either. This mass, it crushed its own kind! Haru wondered if it even had a sense of scent. It only meandered forward, figures on the landscape sticking to its flesh like gum and plucking out of the soil. And the small ones—they did not fear him! Each ran at its own pace, crinkling under the weight of this blob of a monster if they so happened to be in its way. This was the essence of the cyclopean. This was the essence of soullessness. Hollow shells that were built to kill, to seek blood, even if they weren’t sure what they were killing or who or where. But there was one thing about this monstrosity that Haru liked. It’s very, very visible weak point—an obscenely large onyx shard protruding from its chest.

As the beast drew closer, civilians began to abandon their seats. It seemed that the danger was becoming a little too real. The goliath seemed capable enough to smash the walls. Haru looked at the General first. It seemed that he was beginning to panic a bit himself. He spoke through clenched teeth with his captains, issuing precautionary orders. Though Haru couldn’t blame him. All the redhead had to do was make sure the warriors could establish order before General Cress took matters into his own hands.

He looked down the wall again, making sure that all of the warriors were accounted for before looking at Tallyho. He grimaced. She was still struggling to conjure up the appropriate amount of energy. Her doe like limbs vibrated with trepidation, chest throbbing with short surges. He then turned to Kyle.

“You see that farming plot over there?” He hummed over the blonde’s shoulder as he pointed out into the distance. “When the cyclopean gets about as close to the wall as that plot is I need you to douse, and I mean douse it with as much water as possible.”

By the time all of the warriors made it up the wall the valley was black, scaly bodies slamming against one another in some sick mosh pit. They clawed at the wall, slammed against the door, and it was impossible for the General’s men to get out, especially with the one large body growing closer to the wall. Tallyho—in her secluded area—had finally gotten an edge on energy control, holding on to a substantial amount of electricity. Her muscles pulsed as she struggled hold it all in. If her muscles gave out there was a very high chance that her supply could explode and harm many. Though she finally felt comfortable enough to open her eyes and aim her efforts—in a braceful stance she stood: Knees bent, chest square, one hand drawn back behind her, the other in front, fingers straight, and her hand a knife prepared to slice evenly through the cyclopean.

“You fucking better pull this off you hear me you ginger runt!”
The scathing tone came from none other than general Cress who, obviously tense, came to Haru’s side with a red face. Red from anger most likely.
“This was a game for the big hats General. But you knew that right?” he hummed.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I hear you’re a gifted strategist. But you’re still so naïve… You wouldn’t have been ready for a game like this.”
“I’ll have your head on my uncle’s dinner table…”
The redhead chuckled.

This battle was getting to Haru’s head. He felt alive. Again. Like literally. He recalled getting rushes like this during the big war when he had the soldier’s sword in one hand and the government’s money in the other. When war was a game of solitaire and he was the skilled player. His plans were coming together finally.

“Okay everybody brace yourselves! Step back and stay out of Tallyho’s way that’s a high voltage area. Okay, Kyle! Do it! Do it now!”

He knew what to do.

An obscenely ugly and absolutely careless behemoth blocked out the last rays of sun as the wall bustled with activity, both above and below. Above the wall, Haru and Nikita, though unnecessarily, called all hands to pull up the remaining warriors. The demon didn't even care about crushing its own! And the human warriors were even smaller than those! At the base of the wall, some of the smaller monsters crushed against it in a second living barrier. Kyle closed his eyes again. He couldn't allow himself to give in to this new terror, lest he lose his narrow control "I can do it! I have to do it!"

Haru's hot breath tickled the back of his neck. He swallowed and peeled his eyes open. The Boss gave his final instructions and the boy nodded slowly and whispered, "Yes, Sir." He noted the pale grey square in the dim twilight and did his best to focus on just that spot, to ignore all the shouting and running behind their place on the wall, the tensely snapped orders of General Cress not too far from them. He started trembling again. Focus, Kyle, Focus!

Commander Haru gave the order. Kyle raised his hands and straightened his back. The behemoth stepped into the grey square. A whoop pierced the air again and Kyle let his balloon burst. Smaller cyclopeans who lingered at the edge of the moat tumbled right into the muddy pit or fell back under the water as it pushed forward to cover the behemoth. The water dripped into puddles underneath it. To make sure he did the job, Kyle lifted up those puddles and tossed them over the beast once more. In a final burst of energy he called out, "Tally!" Then the boy collapsed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Please let this battle be over. He really didn't think he could do any more.

The Month Warriors fought as well together as they got along, which is to say not at all. The moment their struggle against the Cyclopean horde began, the group scattered, intent on proving their worth as they flung their elemental attacks at the advancing masses of scaly, black bodies. It would have been impressive, Dorian thought dully as he lingered back, gray eyes observing the bolts of lighting dancing through the ranks (a sure and comforting sign that Tallyho was alright), the water blades slicing and stabbing indiscriminately, the earth cracking and moving like a living creature, if it weren’t actually happening. They weren’t a team, not really, and wasn’t that sad?

Or perhaps that was the shock talking, the overwhelming terror and surprise keeping him so calm, pinning any hopes of adrenaline down. He shifted, eyes blinking rapidly as he gazed into the horizon and saw more body masses writhing in the distance, crawling over each other in their hurry to advance, to devour, to destroy.

He flexed his fingers experimentally, but did not move. Ideas, scenarios of victory and defeat, danced through his mind, taunting him with their fleeting existence. His powers weren’t of much use, he knew, not without more practice, more calm, and more time. A tornado was a thought, but that was draining even to imagine sweetly cajoling the wind around him into a heaving, swirling mass. They also had a nasty tendency to cause collateral damage and wouldn’t that be something, to save and damn a city at the same time?

Stealing the air, he knew, was theoretically possible, plucking the oxygen from their lungs, leaving them to suffocate while surrounded by what they needed. But that was only a theory and a horrific one at that, not to be attempted when a mass of monsters threatened to consume him and an entire city.

Fingers flexed again, the sound of knuckles cracking instantly stolen and muffled by the chaos around him. He tried once more experimentally, listening intently for the familiar popping of bones when he caught another strain of sound of the wind, soft and almost impossible, but there.

He looked up, neck straining to look at those perched on the wall behind him and saw Ryou gesticulating wildly for his spot to Haru’s right, a perfect contrast to Lillian’s calm pose. His mouth kept moving, shouted words lost and unheard before his gestures became constant, the Guardian’s fingers pressed lightly against his own lips before throwing his hand forward, like a pathetic attempt to throw Dorian kisses.

Dorian stared blankly for a moment, the meaning lost before things began to click. And when they began to click, they came together all at once. The surrounding landscape was now vivid with bright splashes of blood and the glittering of onyx instead of a dull pastel. The sound was like the volume on a CD player being suddenly cranked up, washing over him like a physical attack. And Ryou wasn’t throwing air-borne kisses at him (although he wouldn’t put it past the other man), he was asking to be heard.

It was a strange method of communication, of course it was, but with Falke otherwise occupied, Ryou was calling on their own means of speaking. Sound didn’t act like this, of course it didn’t, but if Dorian stayed so concerned with what was “scientifically impossible”, he would never be able to do anything noteworthy.

Dorian concentrated for a moment, watching Ryou’s mouth continue to move, forming the same shapes over and over again and again and again were stolen by the wind. But the wind didn’t lose the words this time, sound carried along, down to the place below the wall where Dorian waited expectantly.
“-use your powers! You don’t need to use your powers! You don’t-“

Dorian could have kissed him if it were the time or place and he wasn’t completely sure that Aires frowned on that sort of thing even if it was purely out of gratitude. Everyone has been so intent on blowing their audience (and enemies) away that he’d simply forgotten that he might be trained with magical powers, but he was still possibly twice as good with his own weapon.

He waved and saw the relief wash over Ryou’s face as he adjusted him grip on his axe and threw himself into the fray. His mind was working in overdrive as he pushed forward, flinging himself at the best targets as they made themselves readily available to his blade. Those were the teetering Cyclopeans, moving drunkenly as if the gravity of Aires was suddenly too much for them. They made themselves easy targets, swaying dumbly before either squirting him with black blood that quickly drenched him or shattering into sparkling onyx shards.

This might be Autumn’s work, he realized, but didn’t stop to look for her. He could thank her all he wanted, but the best way to accept her help was by utilizing it with each slice of his blade.

He fell into a rhythm easily- step, step, slice, stab, step, step, slice, stab, twirl, dodge, step, step…- and made his slow but solid way through the ranks. Bodies fell and shattered but he kept moving, adrenaline and terror and just a smidgen of bravery egging him on until the pattern was broken with a voice that was certainly not his own invading his mind, telling him to fall back. And he did, instantly, because he’d know that voice anywhere by now.

He made his way back by walking backwards, the enemy too close on his heels to safely turn his back and retreat. He stumbled onto a platform and felt himself being lifted instantly as he hacked and stabbed at those Cyclopeans still clamoring towards him. It wasn’t until he was about fifteen feet into the air that he saw the Goliath’s approach, ugly, horrifying, and probably going to be the new feature of his nightmares.

His gaze stayed on it, watching it crush the smaller Cyclopeans before its feet as he continued to rise, rise into the sky before he wasn’t moving anymore, the platform finally lifted to the top of the wall. He didn’t notice, not at first, until strong arms wrapped around him and he was pulled into an almost painful hug.

Ryou had raced to meet him, to touch him, to make sure he was alright, to make sure he was alive. It was loud, so loud as water encompassed the behemoth of a Cyclopean as the shrieks of the little ones battering the walls and clawing at one another heightened, as screams echoed from the city, and orders and threats were being barked out nearby. Still, he could hear Ryou’s frantic, whispered words as the taller man buried his face in Dorian’s hair, ignoring the fact that the slick Cyclopean blood coating Dorian's body was now surely sticking to his own.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. We’ve done it. I thought you were going to die. You’re an idiot. Don’t make me lose you. It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re going to win. You idiot-”

That was it. They were calling her name now. But to be honest this didn’t feel quite right. Something was wrong. This didn’t feel quite right. What if she missed the cyclopean completely? How could she miss that? Such as obvious figure. A glob of black ink, tall as the sun on the landscape. There was no getting out of this. If she misses it’s all on her. There was no hiding behind the incompetence of others—Kyles usual denial of Haru’s orders, Harper’s routine disinterest in participating in anything if it didn’t help himself (if even then). This was all her and if the missed this…. Oh, her hands were shaking now. She shut her eyes tighter. Shoulders trembled.

Haru was squatting at the cannon when he glanced up at his charge, trembling, weak-ankled. She bit her lower lip so hard that it was raw and red. And oh he felt bad. But not bad enough to let everyone die. They were almost done. Almost. He struggled to dump a heavy cannonball into the nuzzle of the cannon before stumbling upright.



“Tallyho,” he yelled, his voice shooting through her like a bullet. And she felt it. Tallyho let out a small gasp. The kind of gasp that dripped with the sort of fear a child might feel when being yelled at or pushed and shoved for no real reason. She felt herself shrink.

Haru did not have time for this. The cyclopean was growing closer, its footsteps shaking the wall violently. Tallyho struggled to stay upright with buckling knees. Haru haphazardly aimed the cannon in the general direction of the cyclopean before lunging from his station, red in the face.

“What the hell is wrong, here?! Don’t choke up on me.”

Tallyho was gonna hurl.

“TALLYHO!”

Tallyho often remembered her summers as a girl. It was in this season that the sun people would switch continents and wander somewhere new for the rest of the year. Tallyho never knew where exactly they were back then but she often remembered the little details of their travel: The time her arms were inflamed from poison ivy and how the women of the caravan fought over her limbs with their own special balms and creams. The time she caught a fish with her bare hands and ruthlessly stuffed it into some kid’s trousers. But her most memorable moment (and perhaps the most traumatic) was the time she almost got left by the caravan. Why of course they wouldn’t have actually left her—someone in the caravan would have noticed in no time and fetched her. But in her child-mind she was a lost one. They were crossing a sizable creek with fast-rushing water and Tallyho climbed out of her family’s wagon for some reason or another. By the time she pulled herself away from the distraction the last wagon was over the bank and she was left on the other side. She knew at a young age that she could not swim and the prospect of hopping from stone to stone or simply attempting to wade the water petrified her. One could probably compare her experience to a “lost in the mall/amusement park” experience of one of her earthling contemporaries. Unsure of what to do she paced up and down the bank, attempting to stick a toe in the water every once in a while with very little progress. It was a miracle when her mother arrived on the other side of the bank, her frail body swallowed by thick resting robes, feet bare and face shrouded by a sickly sweet mix of hair and scarf.

She coxed her daughter towards the bank with her beautiful hands—open palmed, welcoming. Tallyho always liked her mother’s hands. Though they grew paler and paler as days passed they still looked lovely with rings. She always poised her fingers in the proper position for ceremonial dancing—she was the best at dancing and she said: “Come here baby.” And Tallyho did not come. And all she could do was feel bad that she had her mother crawl all the way out of her bed to come find her foolish child because everyone knew she shouldn’t have been walking out like that. Her mother coaxed her again. Baby. Darling. Tally. Baby. And Tallyho could not move. The blonde sat on a rock and cried. She was always an ugly crier. She slathered snot all the way from her nose to the corners of her eyes with her fat palms. Her red, dusty toes curled against the rock. Her mother became frustrated.

“Tallyho! Why are you acting this way? Come over here!”

Sob. Snort.

“TALLYHO!”

Tallyho hadn’t even thought about what she had done when it happened. Her palms clasped together: a ridiculous, stinging, almost itchy sensation ringing up to her elbows. It was as if all the energy she carried—all the dangerous energy especially—had simply fallen out of her body. She stammered a bit, brows raised, eyes unfocused, before dropping onto the ground.

The cyclopean wavered. It’s form convulsing—movements like rusty clockwork now. A simple windup top in a rich boy’s toy chest. The crowd gasped as it moved, tiny hairs of static pushing out of its frame.

Yes. Yes. Yes. This was what Haru wanted. This was exactly what Haru wanted. He issued the final aim of the cannon before fumbling in his pocket. At first he reached for a cigarette but realized that he had used the last one during his talk with Ryou. His hand finally caught a clasp around his matchbook. Skkrrrrt. Poufsh. Ssss… Bang.

Stuck in a moment in time, Haru waited anxiously to see where the cannon ball landed, more specifically, if it had cracked that pretty black onyx on the beast’s broad chest. For a moment he doubted himself, even prepared to load the cannon again if he had too.

“THEY DID NOT!”

“Oh my goodness!”

“Look at all of those jewels!”

—exclamations from the townspeople as a million shards sunk before the grand city of Ve Marie. They swallowed the few remaining cyclopean in piles. A loud cheer shot from the city.

“No bloody way!” General exclaimed through his teeth. He leaned so far over the edge it looked like he was going to jump off of the wall. He turned around and surveyed the people of his city. They jumped and hugged one another, made toasts.

“This has to be the grandest flock in history!” turned into…

“They were telling the truth after all!” which eventually became…

“The month warriors are actually back!”

Trent caught the eye of the Harbinger whose throne was installed in one of the upper class civilian sections. He felt his face grow red as the Harbinger nodded at him, a very tight, and very slight, dry smirk on his face.

“Fuck this!” he huffed before leading his officers off of the platform.

"Kyle!" Nikita shouted. Time seemed to freeze as her charge fell. The noise of the crowd faded into silence around her. All she could see was his body tumbling through space. She abandoned the cannon where she posted herself since they arrived, giving the free reign to Haru. Kyle was more important. She caught him only moments before crashing his head on one of the seats.

The boy was only vaguely aware of a familiar voice and touch. Those familiar hands lifted his head, allowing more breath in his lungs, and swatted his cheek. "Come on, Kyle." She gave a half-smile when he looked to her blearily, and attempted to move a heavy hand against his head. "Try this." An arm braced up against his back, and the other tipped a canteen towards his mouth. He claimed it and drank greedily as a newborn at his mother's breast.

Surprised gasps and excited murmurs broke back into both the warrior and guardian's hearing. Nikita's half-smile spread into a full one. Her sheltering presence blocked his view of the black rain that fell over the fields after Tallyho finished her part, but despite the excited crowd, they thought they could hear the tinkling gems. "We have victory, but there is one more thing left to do. You have to do it."

Still disoriented, he rasped, "What?"
"The farmers need their fields back." She moved to the other side of him, so he could see, and she could also see the massive piles of gems spread across the entire battlefield. By now it was dark, but the full moon cast enough light to see the gems shimmering.
"I..." He started but she interrupted. "You can and you will."

His body trembled with weakness, even after the water from the canteen semi-woke him up. He leaned almost all his weight on the edge of the wall. Puddles still spread across the fields, but they were already sinking back underground.

He forgot that cleanup duty was part of the original order. If he remembered, he could have pushed himself to hold on to a little more magic. He let go of it to give Tallyho space to do her own part and not have to fear hurting him with her electricity. Could he really pick it up again? He had to try. The boy concentrated on those puddles again and slowly, painfully slowly he pulled them back together, back to him. At least all his friends were still alive and safely on the wall.

Nikita chewed her lower lip until she tasted blood. One hand gripped Kyle's shoulder and she partially hugged him against her as he fought through his battle fatigue. She wasn't as obvious with her affection as Ryou, who seemed to be clinging to Dorian for dear life, but she did care about these dumb kids. Tallyho was already out of commission, which worried her, but the sun-child was still breathing. Although she probably didn't need to, the April Guardian asked Bryce or Gwen to help her if the January month warrior felt strong enough to try.

She was a simple sailor and knew she couldn't do any more for Tally. Kyle struggled also, and Nikita honestly didn't think he'd last much longer either. The confidence in her tone was mostly for his benefit. Based on what she knew of his personality, he always did better work when he felt other people believed in him. Not unlike a certain cabin boy she remembered from her ship.

She gave him a squeeze and stayed close as he fought his battle fatigue to turn those puddles into a spray to wash as many of those crystals As possible back to the forest they came from. That was the absolute last he could do and the heavy body fell back into her chest. She kneeled on the ground and held him there until whoever wasn't presently occupied with Tallyho could join her.

As the platforms lowered and the giant black monstrosity grew closer and closer in focus, Harper struggled to keep everything together, including his bladder.

"Welp. I'm not sleeping tonight. Or ever," he quipped in a strained voice, everything tight.

Yet, as terrible and horrific as the scene was, his fear of heights almost won out. He hesitated for a full ten seconds, and only clambered onto the platform with Xabi and the others after Ondine screamed at him "HARPER I SWEAR TO GODDESS IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS UP HERE--"

This is ridiculous he told himself as the platform raised up, With all those cyclopeans down there, you almost wanted to say rather than go up to safety? Even if it is hundreds of feet high. And there's a possibility you might fall off. Or that the pulley might get stuck. Or that he stepped off wrong. Or the wall came crashing down anyways. Or that the cyclopeans got them mid-rise...

"Not helping. Not helping," he mumbled to himself.

When the platform surpassed 6 feet in height, he tried to sit, but was too scared of tilting the platform. So he stood, frozen like a statue, silent as granite, willing his feet to stay superglued to the wood and gripping his trident with one hand and Xabi with the other, tight as death. His were clamped shut, and as silent as he appeared on the outside, internally he was anything but.

When they reached the top, he had blindly stumbled off, still holding onto Xabi. But, for a second, he felt himself mis-step, Xabi slipping out of grasp, foot not landing where it should have. Panic rose from his stomach up to his throat and suddenly he was back to three years prior, when they had thrown him off the cliff and he was falling, falling, fall--

"Harper! Harper!" Shaking. "Snap out of it!"

Falling. He was still falling, right? Mentally he could feel himself plummeting downwards. Externally, he was on the wall, safe, curled up tight, knees to him, hands over his ears and eyes squeezed shut, trident clattered next to him. Ondine was shaking him and trying to get through. He had just fought a dozen or more cyclopeans. It was absolutely ridiculous that he would lose all composure on the retreat up.

She wanted to smack him. To yell at him. To shake him harder, force him to stop. But she didn't...she restrained herself. In their three years, she had never had to deal directly with his fear of heights, particularly in this extreme, but they had discussed it. She knew that he knew what he was feeling was irrational. She knew that he probably wanted himself to stop more than she did. She knew he hated feeling like this, and that it was hard for him to stop once it started.

"How then, do you expect me to deal with this if it ever happens?" Ondine had asked him one night, during his swim, "I only have so much patience for you when you're normal as it is."

"Just...talk to me," Harper had told her with a shrug, "Doesn't have to be anything substantial. As long as you're talking to me, like, non-stop, eventually I'll focus more on that. Just don't talk to me about heights or anything. Like, normal conversation. Rubbing my back or shoulders helps too, if you do it while you're talking." Ondine had scoffed at that.

"I'm serious!" Harper had laughed. He then ducked under briefly, before shooting back up, "Oh. And don't make a big scene. I hate it when that happens."

And so, hesitantly, Ondine reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, kneading it softly with her fingers, and talked to him as Haru relegated the next orders.

It was a children's tale, a sea-song for the urchins who called both land and sea home. She did not sing it, but did speak with a lighter voice, of the young whale who traveled the waters and fell in love with a princess. The story had two different endings; the original was sadder and ended with the whale's heroic death, as it dragged the attacking pirate ship--which had harpooned the whale-- to the bottom of the ocean. The second was more child-friendly, ending with the pirates having a change of heart for recognizing the power of love, and everyone got married. Ondine decided on the second one. Just as she finished uttering the last word, Haru launched the cannon.

In the second of dead silence between the bang and the crowd, Harper lifted his face, eyes red and watery, but open. And with the way it had timed out, it was almost as if the audience had been cheering his recovery, rather than the destruction of the cyclopean horde and its gargantuan leader.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Echoing and spiralling in his mind like an emptiness unable to be filled.

He was going to die alone. Alone, yet surrounded by people.
His own Shadows had turned away from him and they were part of him.
He was turning from himself.

And then the rough texture of another guy's hand grabbing his hand and pulling him upwards.
Not just any guy's, Harper's.
"Sorry I'm late, babe."
Babe. Not the most appropriate of things to call him in public. Especially after the decision to keep what they were doing secret. He hadn't overlooked the whole "Don't Touch My Boyfriend" part.
Still, he felt a surge of affection and something frightfully close to adoration swell in his chest at the sound of those words.
"Thanks." It came out quiet and subdued. He was still shell-shocked at his own dopplëgangers' betrayal.
And then again, a little louder.
"Thank you Harper. I owe you one." Face wet and dirty. Blood and dirt covered his clothes like a blanket. He looked like a shadow of himself...(if you pardon the pun.) And not a particularly good looking shadow at that.

When he let go of his hand there was a moment where Xabier wanted to grab it back. Just to feel the closeness again. The moment passed and he strengthened his resolve. No more of these thoughts. He was a bloody man for Goddess's sake! It was not the time for him to go sappy.
Picking up the Bo staff instead he braced himself to fight a little more.....


-----------


It was over so fast yet the seconds felt like little eternities. The voices of the spectators and the Guardians all melded into one large loud buzz. He struggled to keep himself standing tall. The final push had been spectacular, electric bolts combined with water covering the new wave of Cycopeans leaving the clearing covered in black gems.
Everyone had worked hard.
Kyle and Tallyho had made the final devastating blow while everyone else had chipped away valiantly in one-on-one fights.
It wasn't perfect but it had worked.
It was all thanks to Autumn that dealing with the next few Cyclopeans were manageable.
He'd need to thank her later.

Watching as Tallyho hit the ground, Xabier paused for a split second.
Whatever he did could cause more damage. Moving her the wrong way could be dangerous.
There was no question whether or not he'd help her.
His body moved on its own.

Titling her head back gently to open up airways while readying to turn her on her side in case she vomited, Xabier acted with his usual care.
For the moment no one was around her and he couldn't leave her alone.
Harper's actions had opened up his heart again. No one deserved to be alone.
And when he felt abandoned by everyone including himself there was still someone who helped him up.
Surely he could never leave anyone in pain alone.

He had acted selfishly in the aftermath of the fire and had pushed others away. It would take some time to forgive himself while holding no hope for forgiveness from the others. But he wouldn't give up on the things that made him happy to gain acceptance.

"You did a good job." He told her quietly. There was more he wanted to say, but he knew he would never say it.
"We won because of you."
His fingers pressed on the place between the ear and the neck, trying to get her to wake up.

"Gwen, can you keep an eye on Tallyho, please? If you're not busy." He called over to the Healer.
Maybe he was being stupid but he had recently felt a vibe that Tallyho disliked him for some reason.
It'd probably be for the best if Gwen looked after her instead. That and he knew that Gwen would be far more helpful.
No drama. No problemo.

He never claimed to be all knowing, in fact, people passing out under extreme circumstances were usually directed on to more experienced doctors. The basics were simple: place the patient lying straight, legs slightly elevated and most importantly on their side in case of vomiting. Try to wake them without smacking them or throwing water on them. Ya know, common sense. However, this collapse was triggered by overuse of magical powers and he was completely untrained in this situation.
If she didn't wake up after a minute or two, he would start to worry.
"Tallyho? Are you feeling better?" She needed to regain consciousness herself before he could move her anymore.
Goddess knows what kind of damage is done.

Harper was also caught up in his own private nightmare. But Harper had Ondine. He was being well looked after.
Xabier knew that leaving him made him a bad boyfriend but he'd make it up to him later.

His eyes flicked from Tallyho still lying there, to his boyfriend having a panic attack in his Guardian's arms and then to all the other worn out faces. He wanted to be able to split into multiple people so he could help them all. (The irony wasn't overlooked.)

Waiting until he was certain that she had someone with her to keep an eye on her,
the Spaniard quickly moved across to help Nikita with Kyle.
"Is he alright? Is he breathing? Heart beat? Temperature?" It was followed with a longer series of fast medical questions while he went about checking the face of who he had once considered his best friend. What had changed, he wasn't entirely sure and he would have to find out at a better time. None of that mattered right now. Xabier was in his "Doctor Mode".
All feelings and thoughts other than health were unnecessary.
"Sorry." He smiled weakly, a little of his tiredness showing on his face. He had presumed too much.
"I meant to ask, would you like some help?"

Boyfriend.

Autumn did not have the pleasure of hearing the word up close. Rather, it was the spirits who informed her as that had always done. Apparently, Harper had no qualms about making his relationship public this time.

Boyfriend.

It was such a petty thing to be upset about, too. Autumn was well aware that there were lives at stake and that she shouldn’t be concerned with relationships at the moment but she couldn’t help but clench her jaw and scrunch her face. Adrenaline kicked in as she felt the heat of anger rise from her stomach to her head.

Such raw emotion only fueled the spirits further. Their attacks grew more aggressive, leaving visible wounds on the cyclopeans below. The frenzied nature of the attack, if anyone but Autumn could see the spirits, seemed not to coincide with her emotional state but rather simply feed from it. If anything, it was disorganized and sloppy. No doubt the spirits were abandoning her comrades in favor of sucking the energy out of whatever cyclopean they felt like. It was luck of the draw if a spirit happened to be helping a warrior.

Such was her anger that she hardly even noticed when the Goliath appeared. Such was her anger that she hardly even cared. It was odd, actually. In most circumstances Autumn would have been terrified. Rightly so. Kit, too, felt a great sense of dread simply by looking at the beast from afar. Autumn could see it in his eyes. Yet, she felt no fear.

This was not bravery at work. This was a lack of a proper reaction. Her mind was still so focused on anger that she wouldn’t even fear death itself. It was a bit of an odd, empty feeling. As if something was forced.

Seeing Harper and Xabier on the platforms only further enforced this. Autumn scowled, looking away from the two as if they were pox marked. Harper, after everything he’d done, asked Odine not to make a scene. What a hypocrite. She could have screamed in frustration.

It was Kit who reminded her of the task at hand. He tapped her shoulder lightly, causing her to swivel around. He instantly regretted the action. Autumn glared at him with eyes of ice, something he had never seen before. Still, it wasn’t as if Autumn was a threat. Though the action startled him, he wasn’t scared. He coughed and pointed at the Goliath.

If there was a way to cough sarcastically, Kit had it mastered. Despite Autumn’s obvious anger, Kit couldn’t let the opportunity slip by him.

Autumn scowled, but returned her focus to the grotesque cyclopean approaching them. She mumbled under her breath for the spirits to attack the giant in particular. They obliged in a frantic manner.

The darker spirit that had been content to remain next to her seemed to approve. It didn’t say anything, but Autumn could feel it.

The spirits attacked as commanded, leaving the occasional scratch and scrape on the colossus.

Then, with a large bang, it was over. The cyclopean fell and the crowd cheered. Autumn, with nothing else to do but simmer in her own anger, sat down.

Kit, for a moment, was silent. He almost couldn’t believe it. Then, in a way that seemed very not like him, he started to cheer.

“BLOODY FUCKING HELL YES!” He exclaimed loudly, his first instinct being to embrace Ryou in the same way a bear trap might embrace ones foot.

“Can you believe what these assholes pulled off!? Goddess damned kids can’t get along for more than a minute but damn can they kill!” Kit grinned, now firmly grasping Ryou’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. If he had a hat, he would throw it. For the first time in years, he was truly overjoyed.

He turned around to look at the group, finding that many had fallen. Autumn slumped over and lay on the ground, her cloak covering her like a haphazard blanket. So she had fainted, too.

Kit wasn’t too surprised by this. It wasn’t the first time that overexertion had caused her to faint. After all, at the end of the day the spirits did prefer human energy. Autumn had made it clear that they could get by on cyclopean energy, but their services were still part of an energy trade and draining cyclopeans of their energy was merely part of the service. At the end of the day, their payment was still her energy. Kit couldn’t help but wonder how much she paid for what she pulled off today.

Autumn lay on the floor, breath shallow but present. She twitched from time to time as the energy passed from her to the spirits.