True to his word, after waking in the morning, Dorian was pointedly mum on the subject of the night before, brushing that unwelcome and unpleasant memory under the proverbial rug in the company of so many other distressing thoughts that had been given the same treatment as of late. He soldiered on from there, one day during into two into three and so on until a week had passed, all of the days blurring together into a disorienting haze of structured monotony. In that way, he reflected, it was all very much like school if he was never allowed to leave and instead of learning about cosines, the periodic table, World War I, and how to accurately play Bach's Cello Suites, he was learning about Aires and how to survive on it. A lesson, of course, that he could have used a long, long time ago. If he'd known now what he'd known before, if he'd been as fit as he was now, if he'd known Aires, if he'd known how to survive...
Few things broke the exhausting tedium of lessons and painful training, but, as with anything, there tends to be exceptions to the rule. In this case, the introduction of meditation in the daily regimen. For most it was a welcome sort of break, a moment to relax and breathe and let themselves fall into a zen-like state of harmony. For others it was a way to connect with their ever promised powers, to find the ability deep within themselves to alter the world around them in some way, shape, or form. It should have been a task easy enough for Dorian given his relatively calm and quiet nature, but instead he found himself struggling viciously with meditation. For all of his stern and mild behavior, his mind was in a tumult, swirling and twisting around ideas and notions that would not leave him be. Clearing his mind, for the most part, was becoming an implausible task because, quite honestly and to throw in a simile that would meet his English teacher's approval, he felt like a boat without anchor, awash in an angry ocean, battered by waves on all sides in the form of exercises, his supposed group, and the situation that threatened to drown him. There was nothing to cling to apart from his long dead cellphone, the last of its battery life used up before he'd even found the Month Warriors again to provide a meager flashlight to fight off the darkness, and his watch that still cheerfully ticked away even if the time shown by the little hands didn't quite match with the foreign Airian days, but he'd never had the heart to go about changing the time.
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"How do you meditate?" For all of his trouble with the exercise, Dorian decided that the first person he should go to- after an unsuccessful discussion with Haru at the beginning of all of this- was Ryou. When he realized that Ryou was almost always perpetually teaching lessons or otherwise occupied with his Academy job(which was his actual and very real excuse for being too busy to see them for the beginning of their stay at the Academy), he'd gone to Dae, one of the friendlier elites. He was always eager to assist anyone and everyone, even if, like in this situation, it was a little out of his depth.
"Personally?" He nodded.
"Alright, give us a second. I've never had to talk serenity before. Not my usual cup of tea. Let's see⊠Well, I kind of just start focusing on one thing- like, not a thought, really. Usually something physical, like I keep my hand on my sword or I focus on the grass I'm sitting on, yeah? Then I just really focus on that and everything else kind of just⊠melts away. Sorry, does that help?"
"I'm not sure."
"Yeah, sorry about that. Just give it a shot. Tell us how it goes, alright?" Dorian took some heart from the knight's crooked grin and, on his next meditation attempt, tried to put the practice into motion. He focused on anything he felt- the soil under his hands, the slightly rough texture of his clothes against his skin, the bracelet hanging ever heavy on his wrist⊠But to no avail. His mind simply wandered off to other things again, leaving him in the same position as before.
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The field trips, however, were more pleasant than his mild attempts to calm the flurry of thoughts dancing around in his mind. He felt quite silly, of course, standing near mountain peaks, the sharp wind washing over him and the air thinner than he was accustomed to, waiting for something to click, something to happen. It was made all the more embarrassing my Haru's constant but encouraging presence in these little journeys, like he was waiting for something. Dorian had half a mind to remind him- to remind everyone- that they'd been the ones to call him the March Month Warrior- he'd personally never proclaimed to be anything less or anything more than Dorian Roberts. Still, the little trips weren't unpleasant and were actually, between all of the activities in his very busy day, quite enjoyable for what they were. There was something soothing about it, standing high up on the mountain and focusing on something quite tangible like the wind threatening to tip him over. It was, however, fortunate that he hadn't discovered his apparent proclivity for heights and windy days back in New York where it was far easier to find tall rooftops to linger on- knowing his neighbors, they'd probably have made a scene about it, asking him not to jump even if he calmly mentioned that he had no intention to do so, which would have been funny at first but then would probably devolve into pure annoyance for everyone involved.
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"How do I meditate?' Liam had been Dorian's next choice, more due to the magician's generally easy accessibility given the fact that if one found Dae Grimm, they found Liam Valentine. The cloaked man seemed more intrigued by the idea of explaining meditation than his more action oriented counterpart, but Dorian was still rather hesitant to approach him. For all of his grace and elegance, there was something off-putting about a man who fought with a black, glowing energy and who seemed to take pleasure in the morbid things in life.
"Yes."
"Well, March Warrior, I personally like to focus on my energy and the way it connects with the world around me. I find it quite soothing to be interconnected with the rest of the world. Perhaps you could try concentrating on your wind powers?" Dorian, as it were, wasn't quite sure how he felt about someone like Liam being actively part of the world's energy flow.
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One week bled into two, into three before life shifted and changed again and, unlike his unsuccessful attempts at meditation or his field trips that brought him further and further up the mountain, this was not a welcome change. Of course everyone was nervous about facing their monstrous enemy within the cage- nowhere to run, nowhere to hide- but he wasn't quite sure how much of that was a primal sort of terror where you should be terrified of giant monsters on principle and how much was a learned sort of fear in a 'Dear God that's a Cyclopean' as opposed to a 'Dear God that's a giant monster' sort of way. He tended to fall in the latter category of fear, which should be no surprise. In the three years that followed, he eventually had his chance to tell his story of where he'd been off to before Ryou found him and brought him back to the group. For the other Month Warriors, they'd been on Aires for too days; Dorian, on the other hand, had been there for at least two months. Two months not knowing where he was. Two months struggling to survive in the wild without any practical survival skills. Two months of- and this was the big one aside from the soul crushing loneliness and despair that clung to him still- Cyclopean sightings.
He'd never killed one past that first one in Central Park, but he knew the fear that came along with them now, had outrun them, sometimes nearly unsuccessfully as the scars littering his body now showed, hidden from them, seen what they could do when it came to not only animals but humans as well. So, yes, there was an element of primal fear there too, but glancing at the monsters brought up memories that could not be so easily quashed. It might have been a small one, but a small Cyclopean was still terrifying when you'd seen what they could do. It came back then, those feelings from before, before he'd been found. The soul-crushing loneliness, the fear of abandonment, the wondering if he would starve to death or not. If he'd never see a familiar face again and die just like that. Alone.
He went last, ushered into the cage and wishing desperately that a) no one would watch him and b) after all of the other Month Warriors, Haru would decide that that was enough for one day and send him on his way to fake meditate again. It was not to be so. The door clanged shut behind him and he was left with his quickly escaping wits and the still rusted battle-axe held in a painfully tight grip. His heart was racing now, pounding in his ears and adding a percussive sort of melody to the other sounds that filled the cage, a macabre sort of music blending his short, gasping breaths with the almost reptilian snarl of the Cyclopean advancing, his heart beat keeping tempo all the while. There were other noises, people outside the cage- but this was more of a duet than an orchestra and he couldn't focus on them because his opponent had sensed fear, sensed weakness and was moving faster now. The tempo sped up, the breathing escalated, the roar blared into the air. Then there was nothing but silence.
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"Meditation?" Mori had come third in line if only because he preferred to be hidden away in the library as opposed to gallivanting around the campus with the rest of the students, Elite or not. As young as he was, the Month Warriors had quickly seen how his own well of knowledge dwarfed most adults, even if he did tend to be dreadfully haughty about it. It was a photographic memory mixed with good deductive and inductive skills, and a strategist's mind.
"How do you do it?" Mori paused a moment before taking pity on Dorian(who didn't know how he felt about a child pitying him).
"It probably won't help you," He admitted after a moment, shutting his book. "But I like to⊠listen. To whatever's around me. I concentrate on one thing- a bird song for instance- and then try to remember all that I've learned about birds. I get lost in the information. Sometimes meditation isn't about clearing your mind- it's about finding your center. I happen to have a very loud center."
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"Dorian! Dorian!" The noise cut through the pre determined silence and Dorian blinked, eyelashes fluttering in a confused sort of way. The silence vanished as suddenly as it had appeared and he knew the situation once more. It was eerily similar, black blood staining his body, labored breathing, hands squeezing around his weapon in a death grip, which, like him, was saturated in foreign blood. Dark onyx shards littered the ground, not in a pile, but spread about in a haphazard sort of way, all around the cage. And then there was Ryou, standing in front of him, hands raised in a peace offering, golden eyes for once without a jolly twinkle. Now there was just concern as the Guardian took the axe from his trembling hands, struggling only slightly to get him to relinquish his grip. Then warm arms wrapped around him and it was only then that Dorian realized the wet on his face wasn't just blood, but hot tears that cascaded down his cheeks. The labored breathing was sobs as much as him being out of breath and, instead of pulling back, slipping his mask back on, he fell into the comforting hold.
He, as Ryou recounted to him an hour later after ushering him to Ryou's own rooms to give him a little privacy, had hacked the Cyclopean to pieces, which accounted for the onyx shards scattering everywhere and the copious amounts of blood as well. Dorian had for the next two hours, stayed there and it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A singular outburst of emotion that had been welling up within him for quite some time until he'd destroyed a creature that had tried to do him in, just like the rest of the elements he'd encountered before Ryou. The March Guardian stayed with him, seated next to him, rubbing soothing circles in his back and when the touch became too much, just shared his presence.
In that time, he meditated. His first successful attempt. He didn't focus on the bed beneath him to find a physical connection, he didn't concentrate on the slight breeze brushing in from the window, cooling the room, and he didn't focus on the noises from outside or within the room itself. Instead, he let himself think about today, about the emotions that had finally boiled over, and accepted those. He, as Mori had recommended, had found his center. So. This was why Haru had recommended meditation because, honestly, it felt fantastic.
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Life began again and time marched forward after that day, as it tended to do, ignoring the meltdown as a slight blip on the cosmic timeline. Dorian soldiered on and felt, while not completely okay with the situation, better. Armed with the tools provided -meditation, quiet hikes up the mountain, alone or together with others- it was easier to continue on. He grew stronger, physically and he hoped mentally, even if he never went, as he'd secretly dubbed it "full Narnian", so named after the books he'd read as a child(and as an adult. No judge) and the children's desire to leave their own world behind to enjoy a world where magic was real and they were incredibly important. He still longed for Earth, his home, his father, but he could function around it now. It helped to keep busy. It also helped to find lifelines in the form of the other Warriors, even if he quite sure they didn't understand his way of thought.
Take for instance Tallyho, who'd risen from the category of "practical girl with common sense and no real drama" to the title of one of Dorian's closest, if not his closest, friend. She didn't understand his longing for Earth, for a single place in a single city, but she didn't have to to make their friendship work. It had begun, really, by her giving him the best gift he'd ever been given- electricity. It had been an accident, of course it had been, but a single shock had given life to his cellphone again, giving him access to all of the things from Earth he needed as a reminder of who he was back there, back then. Videos of his father and friends, his music, his photos- all a single touch away now with Tallyho's help. He hadn't been able to tell her how grateful he had been, so, instead, he'd offered to show it to her. Not the private things that he knew only held meaning to him- he was never one to inflict his own interest on people- but the things he knew she'd find fascinating.
They'd settled on art, a collection of paintings and drawing that cluttered his phone's memory, some from past projects at LaGuardia when he'd taken art history, others from museum trips, and still others that he simply found fascinating and had squirreled away in his phone's memory. Tallyho had shared the fascination and that was where their relationship truly began, stories woven of artists he'd never met and one or two that he'd had, tidbits of information or long biographies. It was a bonding point, of course, turned into the occasional quiz game where he'd simply show her a picture or spout off a name and have her fill the in the gaps. It was where their relationship had begun, but not where it ended as gratefulness on his part and curiosity on hers shifted to a real friendship with all the trimmings. Meal together, meditation side by side, the odd walk in the woods, and training during storms where electricity charged the air and the wind battered them.
Their friendship didn't surprise him, not like some of the others that had appeared before him. Harper was, of course, the most shocking of all. It had begun with a cello, just like Dorian's relationship with Sadie had, on the day of his mental break. At first, he'd expected another one-sided shouting match when Harper had asked him to visit after dinner, or another grilling session that he was most certainly not up to. Instead, he'd been presented with a sort of cello, bow and all. Harper had almost looked nervous when presenting the instrument- not quite a cello, but the closest thing he'd seen to it on Aires. That instantly made him move towards it, pulling the bow across the strings. Well, he'd realized when an awful noise resounded, it may look like a cello, but it wasn't. He'd seen the disappointment in Harper's gaze, probably mimicked in Dorian's own, so he'd made suggestions.
They'd met for a month, a forced and awkward relationship moving to small talk and idle chatter as the cello improved. Until, that is, the day it finally sang. It sang and sang and sang until Dorian's wrist ached from lack of practice and then, breaking the comfortable silence, Harper's quiet apology mixed with such an honest adoration for Sadie that Dorian did his best to forgive if not forget their past arguments. He's simply placed a hand on Harper's shoulder, squeezed, and thanked him, not just for the cello, but for being a good brother, no matter what he'd thought, to Sadie. Their relationship continued from there, filled with music and actually pleasant words, and a bond forged by a girl they both knew.
Other relationships fell into place as the years flew by- Autumn had weaseled her way into Dorian's life, something he reluctantly accepted at first until it became a given. She was a sweet girl- kind, peppy, but slightly insecure and he strove to help her when he could, offering an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on. She was like the sister he'd never had, except less obnoxious, he assumed, than actual siblings even if she could be a little irritating with her apparently endless cheer and the many, many tarot readings he'd had inflicted on him. Still, he liked her, a sunshine like presence so contrary to her own powers.
There was Skylar too, a comfortable sort of friendship forged from intersecting friend groups. Kyle, on occasion, as the two were neither good friends nor enemies, just something normal, like a classmate you worked on projects with. Falke was a reassuringly sane presence in the midst of the insane Academy, although neither were particularly close. Lux he knew mostly from Autumn, a stubborn but motivated girl. Gwen, who he'd never managed to connect with but who he was glad to see had filled out in a healthy way and no longer seemed to be going for every authority figure's throat. Xabier was- well, Dorian had no idea because the other boy seemed to find his presence as welcoming as, well, a Karma's- something to be endured but not liked. Dorian didn't find that he cared all that much. They were all decent people, he supposed, but he never let himself get too complacent. His goal was to help save Aires, however that may be accomplished, then go home, a thought that he dwelled on only by himself.
Then there was the Academy students as well. He attended classes more often than not and enjoyed all of the lessons for the most part. Ji Na was an incredibly intellect, wise but still somehow distant, slightly unobtainable for all of her gentle friendliness. Her friend and comrade Ben was similarly a distant sort of thing, meant to be admired and respected but not exactly connected with. Dae was a more friendly and open presence, helping with the physical aspects of training and still never beaten in hand-to-hand combat("Don't expect you to win. You may be Month Warriors and have powers, but I've been doing this for ages. Don't disrespect the normals, yeah?" he'd noted cheekily once after knocking Dorian to the ground with a swift roundhouse kick) and generally flitting about the Academy, offering help and a good laugh where he could. Liam was more distant, just as off as Ji Na or Ben, but his sheer proximity to Dae made him seem more approachable. He was slightly terrifying with a delight for the macabre and eerily, eerily calm. Still, his magic was something to be admired and he was incredibly patient when one had questions. Mori was, well, Mori, slowly entering the realms of being a pre-teen, dragged there kicking and screaming, of course. He was disturbingly intelligent, helping with fact-based classes like Airian history, and he described events and ideas in such detail that you almost had to understand. He was a bit of a brat- not nearly as bad as Karma- but it was nice to see a kid being a kid, especially when he demanded that Dae carry him around campus or when he blew raspberries at particularly rude students. Ryou was in a league of his own, taking a more hands on approach with all of them, but carefully reserving a sort of centering time for Dorian to focus on March related things. He was his savior, after all, rescuing him from months in the wilderness, and Dorian had never forgotten that or his wonderfully kind behavior towards him post meltdown.
People change as you get to know them, relationships change when you're thrown together, and you change by what impacts you and what you go through. Dorian had grown stronger, physically and mentally, his axe now like an extension of his arm than an imprecise weapon to be seen only wielded in Lord of the Rings. It arced through the air now as he finished training for the day, shards of onyx littering to the ground, never quite as gruesome as kill number one in New York or kill number two on Aires. He, for once, escaped it without any blood spatters despite his weapon being one of the messier ones, and skipped the fountain everyone else seemed to linger at. He was starving, after all, given the intense work outs both mental and physical that he put himself through for the sake of training.
He came in at the tail end of the conversation about the hangings- they had been big news for everyone in the Academy because, yes, there had been people who'd claimed to be Month Warriors in the past, according to Dae, but never when the Academy students knew actual Month Warriors to actually exist. He nodded a mixed hello and goodbye to Ji Na as they passed and settled at the table with Falke and Tallyho, going for his own meal, now more substantial and delicious than the basics they'd been provided with in the beginning.
"You guys doing alright?" He greeted, automatically passing his bowl of Banya towards Tallyho. It wasn't that he disliked to fruit, it just wasn't his favorite and Tallyho enjoyed it far more.
