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Harper Calloway Fields

I heard this great joke from my sister. Ready? What did one ocean say to the other ocean? ..... Give up? Nothing. They just...WAVED! AHAHAHAHA*snorts*HAHAHAHA!

0 · 2,227 views · located in Aires

a character in “Birthstone Spirits: The Great Escape”, as played by cirrus_sd

Description

Image Full Name: Harper Calloway Fields
Age: "I'm feeling twenty-twoooo~ See, it's funny because I am 22..."
Birthday: June 22
Living Situation: Currently living in a small apartment in Boston, MA. Originally from Manhattan, NYC.
Appearance: Harper hovers at 5'11 (and a half). He has dark brown, loosely curly hair that "cannot be tamed" (unless gratuitous amounts of hair gel are used) and naturally tanned skin that only gets darker the more it is exposed to the sun, with the exception of his nose, which, oddly enough, is the only part of his body that gets sunburned, which usually leads to him putting an obnoxious amount of sunscreen on said facial appendage. He has large eyes the color of the sea, switching between blue and green or a combination of both depending on the light and whatever color shirt he is wearing. He has a mouth that smiles easily, with playful dimples and eye crinkles that his sister jokes makes him look old, to which he always reply that they simply "add character". His face overall is very expressive, and he isn't afraid to exercise it, often folding and contorting his face into different expressions, sometimes out of pure boredom. His ears stick out from his face more so than most, and are even more prominent when he wiggles them, a feat he is particularly proud of, next to his whistling. Lately he has been trying out facial hair as a part of his image, though he still shaves regularly.

Due to a lifetime of swimming, his upper body is quite built, his shoulders broad. He has large palms, but his fingers are oddly slender, tapering at the fingertips, and his nails are rounded rather than square. His toes are also fairly long, and he has taken to using them as extra hands, opening doors, picking things up from the floor, and even dressing himself with their assistance. Also due to his swimming, Harper shaves his legs and arms, usually once a week. He once tried applying No-Shave November to his entire body, but realized by the end of it that swimming wasn't the same with all that hair, and from then on only participated with facial hair.

Harper usual dressing style is casual with just a hint of "prep", stemming from his well-to-do background. He still shops at Hollister and American Eagle when he can afford it, and almost always wears flip-flops unless there is more than an inch of snow on the ground, in which case he will consider wearing sneakers. He always wears a shark tooth necklace, and is often seen with a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his curly hair.

Personality: Harper is a loud, blunt, often obnoxious, sometimes funny, happy-go-lucky jokester of a guy (or at least he likes to think so). Typically people find him a bit of an asshole, due to his off-the-hand, typically insulting remarks, along with his tendency to speak before thinking, yet he still has a charismatic charm that helps keep him out of too much trouble. He has a penchant for puns and bad jokes, often finding them hilarious and liable to blurt them out whenever he finds opportunity to, regardless of whether he has anyone's approval or not. Whenever he finds a really good one, he finds himself unable to keep the pun or joke to himself and will share it with the world out loud. He is present-minded, having little regard for the future or what it may hold and instead lives in the moment, milking each minute for what it's worth. This has landed him in many sticky situations, often with the local police. He is good at improvising, lying, and telling stories (real and fake, and both with much exaggeration), and talks quickly and expressively, usually with his hands. He curses often, and has a tendency to make up curses, which may or may not always make sense.

Harper doesn't like being told what to do, which has often been problematic in the job department. He enjoys making decisions for himself, good and bad, regardless of the consequences. He is impatient, hates waiting and is very efficiency-based, hating redundancies despite it being protocol. He's always had difficulty with writing and reading in particular, but school overall he found boring. He is a very tactile person, having made several mechanical animals with moving parts that double as music boxes without any prior training. While he has worked a lot with metal, lately he has been delving into wood, creating his own furniture out of scrap pieces he collects off the side of the road. However, much of what he makes he does for his own enjoyment, and hasn't been successful in selling any of his creations because he doesn't market himself. He has a love for motorbikes, often getting arrested for taking them out on joyrides. He also enjoys musicals, having gone to many when he still lived in NYC, and has many of the soundtracks memorized. He also enjoys pop-songs, and is a bit of a pop-culture junky himself. While he doesn't know how to play any musical instruments, he does have a good singing voice if he tries. His dancing isn't half-bad either. And, of course, he is a very strong swimmer, and takes a daily swim in the Boston Harbor every morning. He suffers from a crippling fear of heights, and as such has never traveled by plane, climbed a tree, or ridden any amusement park ride (except for carousels). He also doesn't do any sort of diving from more than 6 feet above the water.

Background: Harper is the oldest of two children born to two very affluent New Yorkers in the heart of Manhattan. His father is a lawyer and his mother inherited her father's business. Born into a socialite party, Harper learned manners and protocols at a very early age. He never had to worry about money, and was typically given whatever he wanted. His parents were rarely home, however, and he spent a large amount of time with his younger sister, Sadie, whom he adores to this day. His prowess for swimming and tinkering was evident ever since he was very young, however his father took the former more seriously and paid for a personal coach in hopes that Harper would compete professionally, perhaps in the Olympics. Harper performed very well in competitive swimming, participating in every year of his schooling and placing well in Regional competitions. However, although his schoolwork was always average, in high school his grades dropped severely, something that his parents were both unhappy about, particularly his father, who punished Harper by refusing to allow him to participate in swimming that year. This only caused his grades to drop more, and after he was rejected by every college he applied to, his father threatened him with military school when he was 17.

Scared, Harper ran away that night and took a train to Boston. He didn't contact his parents for four years, only calling Sadie. He lived in an "unbelievably crappy" studio apartment with cheap rent for most of his time in Boston, only recently upgrading to a "slightly less crappy" single bedroom. His on and off job has been working as a Chinese Take-Out Bicycle Delivery boy (since he has no car), and even though his boss has fired him multiple times, he has also rehired him just as many times because Harper, despite the numerous times he has had to bail him out of jail and his terrible backtalking, is still his fastest delivery boy, even on a bicycle. In the past year, he reconnected with his parents on accident after Sadie purposely steered him towards them during one of her cello concerts. The relationship has still been very shaky, but he now calls them every now and then and will begrudgingly speak with them when Sadie forces him to. Right now he is in New York City for another one of Sadie's concerts.

So begins...

Harper Calloway Fields's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields
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"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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Falke der Herrscher
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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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Gwenneth Yuan
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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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones
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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."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Aria Delaine Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel
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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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Ondine Azur
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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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Gwenneth Yuan
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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?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Kit Withers
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#, as written by Linnea
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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Nikita Machari
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He hadn't noticed the intensity of the pain until his hand brushed some of the grime and blood off of his face. The young man looked like he had just come out of a low budget horror movie. Murder victim no.10.

Sitting down beside Nikita and her fallen charge, Xabier appraised the others. In a cowardly way he was glad that Kyle wasn't conscious right now. As much as he had prepared himself to say something, to say anything, he was suddenly struck shy. There was no point of him running around trying to help people when, as Nikita had aptly put, Bryce or Gwen could do a better job. If anyone needed help, he'd help.
His eyes flicked from Harper to Tallyho to Autumn. He wondered if they were alright. If no one checked on Autumn in the next few minutes he'd go over himself. Just to make sure. And Harper. Must go over to Harper.

His body ached and begged him not to move an inch. The gaping scratches on the metal and flesh near his shoulder blade stung like hell.
He was torn between getting up again and going around to check or just sitting down to rest for a little while....

"Oh are you sure?... Thank you." He smiled gratefully and half slumped into himself.
He had finished up the last of the water, nodding at Nikita guiltily. "Sorry, I used it all."

He couldn't find the willpower to get up. His frame heaved under the armour and little droplets of blood dripped down his chest in a slow steady pace. Soldiers falling one by one in battle.
In his anxiety over making up for lost time, the Spaniard was dutifully ignoring his own wounds.

"Do you think we can leave soon?" It was said quietly for fear of the Grand Harbinger overhearing and adding on a Third Wave of Cyclopeans for the craic.
Wincing as he dabbed at his cheek with a scrap of material he had ripped from his trouser leg. One the pieces near his waist because the rest was filthy. Disgusting.
He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. He was bleeding, possibly to death, and he was worried about what he was wearing...

More than anything he wanted everyone to be alright and then go to sleep. Sleep mainly, and also a certain American.
The dark haired lad shook his head vigorously to get himself to pay attention to the present.

And as the blood dripped he could feel himself woozily swaying side to side.
No. Not yet. He hadn't gotten around to everyone. He went to stand up and promptly slumped back down next to Nikita.
"If I can't help...maybe...I can just...rest here...for..little while..?"
As soon as the words came out Xabier's head lolled to the side.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn
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(Note: This post is meant to move things along plot-wise. This plot-moving portion was suggested by Lauren herself and planned by her as well. I've just written it because God knows why. )

Things were moving now, the awkward but momentarily lull after the battle whisked away as medics hurried onto the scene, collecting the unconscious and wounded and prodding at those still standing as if to make sure that they too wouldn't suddenly collapse. Dorian allowed Tallyho to be carried away, satisfied with his work even if his handkerchief was in dyer need of a wash or two. Or ten. Regardless, he stuffed the piece of fabric back into his pocket- more because his clothes were a lost cause at this point and a little Tallyho-snot and extra blood couldn't ruin anything- and, waved off the ministrations of a nearby medic who retreated with some relief (Dorian liked to pretend it was because he didn't want to drag someone as tall as Dorian off, but deep down he knew with the amount of Cyclopean blood drenching his body wasn't helping his natural resting bitch face).

The walk this time was incredibly dissimilar to what they had endured the first time guards tried to take them anywhere. There were no jeering crowds, no pitying stares, no being sandwiched between two knights apparently intent on keeping you from having personal space. The atmosphere was lighter, loud and joyous, and the jeers had transformed into whoops of joy and shrieks of triumph. It was unnerving to feel like the center of the crowd's attention as one of the few month warriors still walking on his own, and he ducked his head. That didn't take the attention off him per say, but at least he didn't have to see anyone that way.

"Cheer up, Dorian. Wear your victory proudly, Mr. March Warrior," Ryou's hand was on his shoulder, even if his eyes were dancing over the crowd, searching for familiar faces. It occurred to Dorian then and only then how desperate Ryou must be right now having been locked in prison without any contact with his child, his students. The grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and Dorian followed Ryou's gaze, picking through the crowd until he saw a blotches of pink and white suspended next to each other, waving frantically. Karma was perched on Liam's shoulders, probably shouting something indecipherable and Mori on Dae's, unmistakable tracks of fat tears of relief pouring down his pale cheeks. Ryou's grin was now blinding and Dorian couldn't help but crack a smile of his own.

When they arrived at the safe house, Dorian's destination was clear. He made a bolt for the bathroom practically diving into the heated water to wipe the gore off of his body. God, this was what he missed most- cleanliness and not smelling like he'd taken up volunteering at the local slaughterhouse. The prominent beginnings of a beard were shaved away leaving only one errant knick in his haste. Dressed in new clothes- and damn if they didn't feel better than any Armani suit or Versace shirt ever did (that was an absolute lie, but Dorian felt the occasion called for some exaggeration)- he finally allowed himself to sit down, eat, and to accept the fact that his muscles would never stop feeling sore.

The days passed swiftly until a certain nervous energy began plucking at the air. Maybe it was because something awful always happened when Dorian finally had time to put his feet up, but he couldn't find it within himself to simply relax. This feeling was heightened when Haru disappeared for a day with politics on his mind and hopes heightened by their victory. Ryou himself was about as badly off if not worse, lingering near the window during the day and tossing and turning at night. It seemed no matter how pleasant the housing, being separated from his students, his children was now nearly unbearable after catching a glimpse of them.

That was until the day of relocation when Karma burst into the house, rushing into Ryou's arms like a pink blur, Mori not far behind with Dae and Liam, lingering back with the sudden onslaught of affection from Kyle but only for a moment before joining in on the massive group hug. Dorian had to look away, not sure if it was out of his own reservations about PDA when Ryou started peppering their faces with kisses and seemed unwilling to let any of them more than a foot away from him or if it was to give them privacy as Mori quietly sobbed against Ryou's side and Dae and Liam clung to Ryou's hands fiercely. The older two separated after some time and congratulations were apparently in order for the month warriors and didn't it feel damn good to have people who had taught them, who had watched them grow into the people they were today, praising what they'd done?

He followed Haru without any hesitation, taking up his default position by Tallyho's side until they arrived at their destination. A grand gate loomed over them and he took a moment to marvel at it before they were approached by their guide.

Mildred certainly made an impression. Small in stature, she dominated the space she stood in with her bold outfit leaving him suitably impressed by the fact that she'd designed it herself (no one should be that surprised- he knew his designers with all of the expertise of someone who had unlimited access to far too many fashion magazines and who also had to dress a man whose idea of formal wear included a bright yellow shirt and an vivid, polka-dotted orange tie unironically).

She played tour guide with an immense amount of expertise, leading them through Ve Marie's castle with an onslaught of information as if to make sure that they were appropriately amazed and humbled by being able to see within the castle's walls. And it was magnificent, no doubt about it, and for the first time in a long time Dorian let himself simply enjoy the experience. It was clearly the creme de la creme of Airian society, unnecessarily extravagant but serving its purpose of grandeur.

The music was the first thing to distract Dorian from Mildred's monologue. He may have been able to purposefully ignore the delightful scents wafting from the dining hall with all sorts of meats and sweets to tempt and tease the palate coquettishly, but he would never be able to ignore the strains of what was unmistakably a violin dancing with the strains of a harpsichord. There was a third sound as well, a delicate almost fragile melody of not-quite-words intertwining with the music, like a small bird tittering away in a high but pleasing tune. Even if they hadn't stumbled upon the room (or not stumbled- Mildred would never do anything so frivolous as stumble), he would have spotted the singer instantaneously, just as petite and sweet looking as her voice as a blush rose on her cheeks.

He shouldn't have been surprised that she was a princess, but he felt perfectly justified in his shock that she was related to General Cress. The thought was pushed aside for a time as the lady-like impression Princess Morgan so dutifully gave off shattered with her exuberant whoops(although Dorian wasn't exactly sure how good any of them came off if General Cress was the one telling the story) and excited gesticulations. She seemed more a child than anything, but that wasn't bad. In fact, it was rather pleasant and absolutely charming given the people he'd been dealing with up until now. It was, however, completely overwhelming for someone to act as if they were actually heroes, not a ragtag group of often bickering and dramatic young adults who just barely survived everything that ever happened to them.

She was begging now to take them on her own tour, an insider's look at the palace, and who were they to refuse? When her wish was granted, she swept out of the room movements too excited to be graceful as they started on Grand Tour: The Sequel. Except, of course, it wasn't too terribly grand. For all of her enthusiasm, her mind was scattered, jumping from one subject to another in an eternal game of hopscotch. Here she went on about her favorite hiding place as a child, just perfect for hiding from nurses and maids before her mind wandered to a particular vase that she'd nearly broken once. They spent the majority of the tour in the gardens once more, Morgan dancing through the foliage like a particularly distracted fairy, stories trailing off into new ones and points half made. While it wasn't nearly as educational as Mildred's dutiful recounting of the castle, it was infectiously fun.

The tour bled into dinner where they were presented with a meal far grander then they were used to although not as large as one would assume when dining with royalty. Of course, to be fair they shouldn't have been eating with the Princess- she'd simply refused to leave. Morgan plopped down between Mori and Karma seemingly finding kindred spirits in the two children who had only just now agreed to let go of Ryou after clinging to him all day, although her conversation carried over to anyone and everyone who would listen. It was nice, for once, and Dorian found himself speaking slightly more than usual, adding an odd comment every once in a while between carefully cutting up his meal (and wasn't it something to have different spoons for soup and dessert) and idly pushing any and all banya products from his plate to Tallyho's.

The evening came to a close as they were dropped off at what Mildred had dubbed "the stair room", with instructions on how to find their rooms. The rooms were for individuals, a luxury that no one had known to expect, although some chose to stay in their rooms together, like Karma who refused to leave Ryou's side and the Academy Three who were about as likely to sleep alone as Dorian was to, say, have coffee with a Cyclopean. He hated coffee. Then and only then did Princess Morgan leave their side, cheerfully calling out goodnights until she disappeared from sight.

Most retreated to their rooms automatically, drawn by the promise of soft beds and clean sheets. Others lingered, socializing as they pleased even as the night wore on. Soon it was late, the moon high in the sky and the stars twinkling and illuminating the sky.

It was after tucking Karma in and waiting a moment until soft snores began to emanate from her small body that Ryou left his room. He made his way silently down one of the halls housing the guest rooms, rubbing tired eyes as he passed by closed doors. His destination wasn't that much of a surprise as he stopped outside Haru's room, raised hand hesitating for almost a moment before knocking gently against the door. As much as sleep called to him promising him his first restful sleep in ages now that he had his children back, he'd seen the nervous look on Haru's face, the strain pulling at his friend and, as with all things Haru, he wasn't able to resist.

Dorian too had strayed from his rooms, but for something far more pleasant. He'd been with Tallyho, her room illuminated by candlelight and the artificial glow of his cellphone. It was only a quick trip, at first, to check in on how she was settling in and to get a charge for his phone, but he'd quickly been drawn into their art game as they scrolled through the saved images on his phone. But now it was getting late, both already letting out a chorus of yawns until the call of sleep seemed unavoidable.

"Right again. Vincent Van Gogh," he nodded, exiting the screen from the swirling "Starry Night" painting. He sat up from his place on her bed, stretching broadly, fighting against lingering aches and pains. "And that'll be all for tonight. Get some sleep, Tallyho." The advice fell on deaf ears, Tallyho having fallen asleep sometime after giving her last answer. He smiled briefly, pulling the covers of her bed over her before blowing out the candle. The room was still eerily bright from the moon peeking in from the window as he made his way to the door only to hear
 Only to hear something outside. He paused, an ear to the door. Was it someone? Yes, it was. It sounded like someone pacing up and down in a tight circle outside the door. What in the world
? Should he wait for them to leave if only to avoid having to talk to someone else?

Nope, he decided as he fought back another yawn. With any luck he'd make it by the person with nothing more than a cursory "hello, goodbye" and be in his room before it. Besides, it was probably just another one of the month warriors or guardians trying to tire themselves out before bed. With that in mind, he moved to the door, opening it slowly, eyes searching for the nighttime pacer if only to better avoid running into them.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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During his diatribe, Xabier was an open book. Expressions flitted across his face like water. Kyle noticed, but his own expression hadn't really changed. Why was he so defensive about Harper? He didn't get a chance to ask the question, as the churning in his stomach felt worse. A grimace crossed his face as he leaned against the door, hugging himself.

Xabier offered him some water, and he took it, drinking half at once. Drinking that much didn't really help the churning in his stomach, but it gave him the strength to stand up straighter. Afterward his mood and tone of voice were both calmer. "What were you scared of? Me? This?" He gestured to the space between them. "Why would you be afraid of me? For years we were like this." With his his free hand, he crossed the first two fingers. "I really want to know what happened, but you still want to keep that secret. Thanks for the drink though." He gave a heavy sigh before he returned the glass to the table. "I gave up on Harper, because he refuses to pay attention to anyone but himself. He's too stupidly self-centered to even accept help, let alone give it. I gave up on Harper, but I don't want to give up on you. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be waiting. In the meantime, good night and good luck." He left the glass and turned to the door.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Aria Delaine Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel
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/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.\
/Yes, sir.\

"Ouff..." Lillian muttered as she was stumbled into by Haru, clenching the wall she leaned on tightly to keep her balance. Her look of absolute calm faded with a sharp glance at the other Guardian in obvious confusion and concern, until she caught the glint of his eyes regaining a sense of self. Humm. She remembered that look and the feeling that came with it well, and not just on anyone (all though, like Haru, they weren't insignificant by any means) - but specifically, herself. That had been a long time that talking verbally was scarce in asking others assistance or announcing plans or anything really. It was good to see Falke seemed to have worked his rather small achieved chunk of September's gifts enough in order to use it in the midst of battle successfully, even though that hit on his head early that she'd caught the end of with an inward sympathetic wince hadn't helped him much she suspected. “Alright let’s lower a platform.” Lillian nodded, moving to aid Haru and other guardians near the cranks to help haul up the warriors that were called up for the second wave.

Falke back-pedaled from his latest kill, blowing a shaky, hot breath, whirling his weapon into a defensive hold, as he collected his bearings to the direction of the platform and the others' scattered mental activity. He took off shortly in a painful, gimping, but ground-covering lope toward the wall, even as he called on his mental powers with a struggle to be heard over the ringing in his head.

/Tallyho, Autumn, Kyle: Get to the platform and come up for the second wave.\
/Everyone else hold ground!\

"FALKE! TALLYHO! AUTUMN! KYLE!"

Falke arrived the last at the platform, struggling against the soapy muck sticking to his boots and water weighing down armor and clothes alike, hauling himself unto it with a grunt of pain and wistful snarl of the sheer effort on his lips. The damped wood of the platform creaked and groaned as it began steadily moving upward, and it wasn't long until they had reached the top of the wall. Uneasily, he swung himself over the lip, with careful emphasis as he landed of not putting any more weight than necessary on his bad left leg with its' tattered and splintered brace and screaming muscles and achingly sore bones. Tilting his head to listen with a painful wince of focusing over his own weariness and exhaustion and others' similar thoughts and emotions weighing heavy on his mind on Haru as he pointed and divided out orders.

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

Falke nodded warily in ascent, stalking back to lean against the wall, hands gripping tight the stony lip. He looked for all the world to be resting from the battle, but the reality as he scowled down from above on the battle like a particularly cranky gargoyle, sightless eyes looking bemused as they floated here or there, focusing for a moment before moving on, he was bringing his passive mental powers (what little he had) up to play more, without the added distraction of being killed. Quelching the doubts of his power on the back burner, and focused.

It was much easier than he had imagined, a floating, ethereal short of feeling, of moving around in the minds of those fighting, those trying to eat them, and relaying the viable or worth wild information back to Haru. He'd always had a sharper will and resulting knack for the physical training he supposed, especially with how comfortable he'd become with using his weapon and love of fighting despite his disability. He'd worked hard to be able not to just rely on these supposed mental powers eventually becoming more useful than knowing the latest gossip before everyone else or knowing anyone's else secrets (sometimes before they themselves knew they had one, or more), and just kicking in to save him one day. But now with a couple steadying breaths, not busy worrying about being eaten, and ignoring the slight but growing pressure beating on the instead of temples; his abilities were proving to be a little more useful.

On, and on, and on the battle went, until...
Falke paled, blinking in shocked disbelief as he intently glanced with as much focus as he could toward the dark hills in the distance. He didn't have any words to really describe it for Haru, because all he were the screams of 'little' cyclopean trampled underfoot - it was big and it was coming. Nor did he really need to speak as a growing sense of panic and dread was emitted from those of the city, as the top of this monstrosity head rose above the hills in the distance, coming closer, and visually becoming a larger threat. No one would appreciate a running commentary of what they could see for themselves.

“Call them all back!"
/Fall back! Get to the platform now!\

When the others finally returned to the top of the wall, the behemoth moved closer, crushing its' shrieking brethren beneath its' massive appendages with each heavy, lingering step. He could hear as much as feel Tallyho's thick, snob-covered sobs of anguish of pulling herself and her energy together, but did not dare give her anything more than the presence of mind, in order not to distract her; Kyle's wavering confidence and determination as exhaustion pulled hard at his abilities for his attention, but like Tallyho he did not offer any what he deemed distracting support (not that the April warrior would even bother to listen for some absurd reason); and Haru's howling commands.

In a magnificent finale of a climactic battle: Water roared. Nearly invisible electricity crackled. The bang of the cannon, and wiz of the cannon ball careening through the air, striking its target dead in the center with a thundering thud. Then the shattering of the beast, shards sleeting down in an oddly beautiful crystalline melody. It was over, they had all managed to survive.

A select few of the Month Warrior group was left standing, while others crumpled into unconsciousness via sheer exhaustion of battle fatigue or overwhelming use of their powers sapping them of their strength, and/or more pressing concern like an open, bleeding red, red human blood, wounds causing their falls. Falke was one of those that had remained barely staying upright, exhausted from the battle and strenuous use of his abilities, but had not moved to help like some who were still able could and did. Frankly he did not think he would have been able to if he tried...

His eyes were impossibly wide, glinting in confused, fearful, and silent agony, air in their depths. With the start of the sudden, wild roar of hope and disbelief from the entirety of Ve Marie, followed continuously by joyous cheers and shrieks of triumph, at the battles' conclusion; came the influx of similar to his own emotions and thoughts without a purpose of being use for some rhyme or reason, bashed into his open mind, hard. He supposed he'd opened himself to much, and overextend his abilities. It was hard enough to remember himself as Falke, instead of so-in-so, crammed and pressuring in terrific migraine that would make anyone's sanity run for the hills; but it was bad enough to mask the soreness of his bad leg, and the ringing blow on his head that would no doubt bruise in time he suspected.

In short order, things began moving as medics hurried onto the scene to collect the unconscious and too wounded to walk and prodded at those still standing so see if they too wouldn't suddenly collapse on the walk to a place of rest. Falke as battered as he was physically and felt mentally, waved off the ministrations of a medic, not wanting any contact to inspire anymore of the painful hiccup he was already experiencing due to his powers. He gimped an uneasy, weary gait, between the guards that gave him personal space quite unlike there first time. Head down, and teeth gritted in a snarl hidden under pursed lips, as they made their way through the crowd, trying to collect his scattered mind and ignore the celebration of being a 'hero' of the city folks around them.

Arriving at the safe house, Falke had managed to calm himself down enough to have enough presence of mind necessary for a bath to clean him of the blood, sweat, and grime from the battle, and dress himself in fresh, clean clothes. Before passing out in an uneasy slumber, too queasy to attempt to eat anything as of yet...

---

To say things were getting better for every warrior over the three days of rest would have been an understatement. Certainly the better treatment, living conditions, food, and the ability to a much needed bath; definitely helped, no doubts about it. But Falke found himself struggling to remain silent as he hid what felt at times a fading of his sanity.

What could only be truly described as the result of an overextending on his grasp of his mental powers during the battle of the Flock. It was having too many others' reckless thoughts and emotions running rampant, and doubling his own mindset's similar thoughts and emotions with each recurring person. Twelve had already felt like too much rattling around in one head, but then considering the addition of the few Guardians their group contained thus far and the various Cyclopean on top of that, AND then... The crowd, nigh the whole city of Ve Marie in all reality, had roared in exhilaration and disbelief that the battle had been won by beating the monstrosity and the month warriors were officially back. Nor, he supposed, did his battered head with a bruised temple ending with a sweep into a black eye, and likely concussion to match, did not help matters much either.

It was like having PTSD in a matter of speaking plainly. Not that his thoughts and emotions would have normally bothered him so drastically to feel like he was losing himself and his mind. All though he wouldn't have put himself past the stray nightmare or two after the fact, if thinking honestly about what they had all gone through. But the sheer struggle of having so many similar post traumatic thoughts and emotions of everyone from the battle still lingering fresh on his mind, having not petered off like they hopefully would have by now, that felt horrible to have to experience over, and over, and over again. He didn't know what to do to fix himself, except silently suffer through it, riding it out like a bad migraine, and hope it would get better over time. Oh, bloody hell, really, what other disorder would be able to match quite as well to magic power issues from another world suck sometimes on the disorder list other than that.

There was an odd flutter of his shoulders, a repressed jerking spasm of anxiety, and twittering, clasping repeatedly into a fist, fingertips, that wasn't uncommon now in the three days after the battle. It was the only way his roughly PTSD condition came out was by quivering muscles, being that he had had learned quickly to bite his tongue over the shuttering, pitiful moans that had occurred with them at first (right after one of the first haunting nightmares, very difficult to ignore or forget for hours afterword). However, he mostly put it off that he'd stepped off wrong on or hit his bad leg again, or a breeze had just caught him right for some jitters, only if anyone brought it up after noticing it and asked him about it. A white lie or two seemed a higher alternative than saying he felt he was losing himself, during the effort to regain his own mind again. Otherwise, Falke kept to himself, quiet, and avoiding any additional attention.

On the day of relocation, Haru had disappeared out the door with political purpose on his mind, and the Academy three (well, the three Elites that were still with them) and Karma returned shortly after there departure - Falke found himself reluctantly trying to force himself out of the room where he'd hid himself and his shaking issue for most of the day, under the guise of not feeling up to standing on his feet more than need-be at a given time, to give them a warm nod of a greeting from afar and a thankful murmur in return for the praises for what they had done the older two gave. It wasn't long before Haru returned, rounded everyone up for another escorted walk until they arrived at a grand gate.

Mildred certainly made an verbal impression at the very least. She played a smart and well put together tour guide extremely well as she discussed the history of the palace grounds with an astute and studied air. But the talk of unnecessarily extravagant but grand enough for its' purpose to awe and humble of the architecture, especially the two sets of bloody staircases, was wearing thin on him. Or, a better use and precision of language would instead discuss how he knew a shuddering episode would come soon and despite the finer materials used to construct a new splint around his leg to aid his walking (it really got sore after a while, truthfully).

The music was the first thing to distract Falke from Mildred's and his own internal monologue. The sweet sounds of violin stings humming and the harpsichord twinkling, dancing together with a fragile but pretty voice intertwining with the musical instruments in a high but easy on the ears tune. As they appeared at the edge of the room near the song's end, the singer was introduced as Princess Morgan. Her lady-like impression and carefully articulated words fell flat quickly, as she exuberantly whooped and darted into a display of the story of the battle like an comic character.

Then she begged to take them on the tour, and while it wasn't nearly as educational as Mildred's dutiful recounting, he thought it was just as tiring if not more so by her wandering thoughts, and varied stories. Falke found himself slowly but surely gimping further behind than the main group, the lagging tail of the comet as it were. Wordlessly, he would catch up until as they started moving on again to the next distracted lead would take them.

Eventually the tour bled into dinner, with the Princess refusing to leave and offering cheerful continued conversation with anyone who would continue. Falke obliged not to join, and remained silent - as he carefully cut up his meal into bite sized pieces, and enjoying the ability to be able to sit down for a time without being required to move any further. Having finished his meal, he waited for their next destination after everyone else finished their own plates, hands clenching and fingers shaking (thankfully his shoulders didn't feel like joining them, this time) as they were hidden under the table.

The evening ended as they were dropped off at the stair room, with instructions on how to find to find their rooms, rooms for individuals. After a painful, but steady climb, Falke retreated to his own room automatically. The promise of soft beds, clean sheets, getting off his feet, and out of the presence of 'people'; were expressly inciting for him, especially given that any amount of sleep would be nice - knowing full well a handful of nightmares was always a possibility...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Princess Morgan the Graceful Character Portrait: Ondine Azur
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By the time they reached earth-level ground, it seemed that Harper had quickly rebounded back to his usual self. Loud. Obnoxious. Cracking jokes inappropriately given the situation they just went through. Laughing. He seemed to be more like himself than he had been in a long time.

Yet he knew, as much as he tried to pretend he didn't, that everything was a little more hollow than before. A bit less soul-filled. Emptier. His personality had always been a front before, but now it felt even more like a mask. Thin plaster that hadn't quite dried yet.

He knew Ondine could see through it. He could see it in her eyes. A knowingness rested there...a "you're being an asshole, but I know why" look...was it pity?

He just hoped his friends wouldn't be as perceptive.

If he still even had friends.

Xabi had been whisked off for medical attention. Selfishly, Harper hadn't worried over him. There was himself he had to take care of. Walls and windows he needed to re-erect. Besides, those medics would be able to take care of him better than he could. Not to mention he remembered their promise to keep 'them' secret. It seemed in the heat of the battle, he had gotten careless.

For all the effort he put on during the day, night left him vulnerable. Dreams haunted him, kept him awake, worse than before. If they didn't feature the gargantuan cyclopean destroying New York City and eating him specifically, or the entire horde coming at him in the middle of a desert, then it was that moment when Xabi had nearly been offed. Except in his dreams, he always got there too late. And sometimes it was Sadie. Or Skylar. Or even Dorian. Once, it had been himself.

And when his brain tired of that, it was falling again. Falling and falling. Sometimes with the twist of falling into a Cyclopean's open mouth.

He woke up with shouts and screams from all of these. He would have apologized to his roommates, but to apologize would mean to acknowledge they had happened. By the second night, he was put in a room with just Ondine.

On tour, he lingered between Xabi and Skylar, making snide comments to whoever would listen. He groaned when he heard the plaza had four floors, and shook his head when the small woman who reminded him of a certain character from a certain Pixar animated film suggest that she could show them how to get to the top.

No sir. No sir indeed.

It wasn't until the music reached their ears that things started to take a turn for the worst.

At the first note of the soprano female voice, Harper's stomach dropped.

As they grew closer, his eyes widened.

And when he saw the singer in question, he nearly fainted on the spot.

Blond hair. Light eyes. High voice, singing operatically. Lilting above, singing something classical no doubt. And then that head tilt, that smile, the tonality of her voice...

He heard the name "Morgan" be said. But all he saw was Alice.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Throughout the rest of the tour, small things stuck out. Differences. Alice's hair was lighter, and not as curly. Morgan's eyes were gray, not blue. Alice's face wasn't as round. Her lips fuller. Morgan's voice sounded just a little higher, and while Harper remembered Alice as playful and airy, she also had a sharpness to her that this princess was missing. There was difference between being footloose and fancy free and flat-out childish. And Alice had always been a bit more...collected of herself. Measured. A handful of hard candy mixed with two toffees. A leather jacket with a pink slip. A packet of strawberry pop rocks with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. One third reckless mixed with two thirds proper.

Morgan, it seemed like, was 100% pure sugar.

But then again, Harper used to think Alice was the spontaneous explosion of contradictions that just happened. This was before he realized just how precise of an equation she was.

He supposed her realizing vice versa about him was what had finally done it. That, and one other thing.

Still, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Even when she left, his gaze followed, and she was all he could think about as he ate quietly. But now, while earlier Alice and Morgan seemed to blur together, he picked apart all the differences, and told himself that nothing would work out with Morgan because nothing had worked out with Alice. That made sense, didn't it?

Besides. Wasn't he happy with just Xabi?

Just Xabi...just Xabi...

uh oh.

That night he dreamed he was drowning. Seconds before he'd black out, Nella Fantasia would sing out in female soprano, muffled at first, but with each word growing clearer and clearer until it pierced through like a spear to the chest. Eyes open, he would try to reach back to the surface, a pale face surrounded by gold fluttering through the rippling waves, singing and singing, but just as he broke through, the face vanished while the voice continued.

On some iterations of the dream, he was sure it had been Alice singing. On others, Morgan. But for most, he was never quite sure who it was. And that, more than anything, was what made it so frightening.

For all the sleep he didn't get, Harper was back to his usual self the next morning. He spend most of his day split between avoiding the Princess while still trying to get a glance of her, and swimming. The bathtubs were basically swimming pools, and it had been a while since he'd been in freshwater. Swimming was blissful, and helped him clear his mind again.

The night passed without much incident.

The parade was the sort of frivolous spectacle Harper both hated and loved. As they suited him and the others up, he couldn't help but wonder how they could spend money on this when there were no doubt homeless and other issues to attend to. Such was the blessing of the rich. A blessing he himself had, as much as he might try to rid himself of it.

Up on the horses, it was a somewhat bland affair until melodies started to clash. Peering up from his steed, Harper spotted the crowd parting from a smaller group of blondes. It didn't take long for him to realize they were the source of the competing song. Not that he minded. He liked this melody better.

The group was loud, obnoxious, and joyous. And it suddenly hit him why they looked familiar. His eyes flitted to Tallyho, a few horses in front of him. Yep. Exact same hair. Was this her family? He smiled at the thought, but then his eyebrows furrowed. Her family seemed awesome. Why was she such a stick in the ass?

There's always one he thought with a small shrug.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Princess Morgan the Graceful Character Portrait: King Rembrandt the Wholesome Character Portrait: Bryce Edwards
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The days following the parade seemed to pass in a blur, the countless celebrations and extravagant dresses seeming to blend into one another. Skylar couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that they had made it this far- after the years of training and roughing it and living in secrecy, they were finally being accepted as the Month Warriors.

She knew that their victory should have come with a sense of accomplishment or pride, something at the very least, but all she felt was an odd sense of indifference as she waited for whatever they would ultimately be tasked with next.

No matter how much Mildred and the palace staff fussed over her, Skylar couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the attention. A self-proclaimed tomboy from age four, the constant pampering was almost as rough as their training. The gowns were beautiful, she would admit that much, but the all the frills and thick fabric were a little too much for her liking. Each day brought about a new set of dresses (usually in some variation of green or brown- all earthy colors, how original), and Skylar could only wonder where Mildred was getting them all from so quickly.

Skylar eventually fell into life at the palace, falling into a daily routine that mainly consisted of her aimlessly wandering the hallways in between their scheduled appearances. She knew there was so much more to the kingdom to explore, but for now she was perfectly content with exploring their home for the time being. She did her best to cast aside thoughts of their battle with the Cyclopeans, and she found herself spending more time than usual with Harper in hopes that his humor and good nature would rub off on her.

-

Skylar wasn’t particularly fond of the mass, the sermon going right over her head. It still felt odd, to be worshipping something completely different than what she had been used to at home. Then again, her family had never been especially religious either and her Church experiences were limited to the occasional mass on Christmas Eve or Easter.

Her attempts to at least try and look interested failed when her attention span ran out ten minutes into the service, her pale eyes scanning the room until her gaze landed on Bryce. She hadn’t seen much of her guardian since the initial battle, and she figured that he was off doing Bryce things and enjoying the luxuries the kingdom had to offer. From what she knew, he had grown up in a wealthy home, so all of this probably wasn’t new to him. Unlike Haru and Kit, who seemed obviously immersed, she couldn’t read her own guardian. He sat straight up, hands clasped in his lap as he looked ahead.

-

The one thing that got her the most was Princess Morgan’s interactions with King Rembrandt, and how well they seemed to get along. The man reminded her a lot of her own father, how he never seemed to take himself seriously and his personality essentially lit up the room. As the only girl in her family, she and her father had always been close and she held the title of “Daddy’s girl” very seriously. She nostalgically watched the two banter back and forth with each other, lips curved in an almost sad sort of smile. She didn’t think about her family as much as she used to, but certain things would stir up the feelings of homesickness all over again and make her wonder what had changed back at home in the years since she had left.

-

Skylar shouldn’t have been surprised that the “small gathering” turned out to be yet another lavish celebration, the elite from all of Aires milling around the great ballroom. After making her rounds with Bryce and managing to slip a few drinks by him, she resigned to a corner where a few of the other warriors were standing. She watched Bryce slide back into the crowd, the older male clearly in his prime. He seemed so used to this sort of lifestyle, easily falling into conversation with some diplomat from Ira.

With a short sigh (because the corset she had been tied into kept her from taking any deeper breaths), she let herself take in the scene before her. Her gaze screeched to a halt at the sight of Liam dancing with a tall woman dressed in green. She tilted her head, not quite believing what she saw. Was that Dae? Maybe she’d had more to drink than she’d realized.

She didn’t get to dwell on the thought too much though, the sound of Autumn telling a story about a Thanksgiving turkey distracting her.

“I’m not quite sure how you dance in these gowns, they’re so uncomfortable!” Skylar said with a laugh, turning to face Morgan. “You’d probably have to get another drink in me and then I might consider it.” She grinned, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Falke der Herrscher Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Princess Morgan the Graceful
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#, as written by Linnea
Autumn was less than pleased that Xabier had decided to join them. She was dancing to forget him, and here he was. Though, it was strange. Before, all she had wanted was to be close to him. Now, she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Was it heartbreak? Disdain? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that him being near made her upset.

She wanted to leave right then and there. How delightful it would be to turn up her nose and glare at him. How wonderful it would be to let him know he was unwanted. However, those actions were petty and childish. Despite many of her actions, Autumn was still a grown woman. She knew well enough that doing such things, especially in public, would only cause a scene in front of important people. So, for the sake of dignity, she smiled. “Go ahead, the more the merrier!” Autumn spent the rest of the night learning from Morgan and taking what delight she could in dancing. At least Morgan was having fun.

Autumn felt a bit like a doll the next day. She was pinned and poked as she was prepared for the big day. As always, Mildred took charge of the event fearlessly. If there was anyone to be respected in the Rose Kingdom, it was her. From decorations to the way they moved, she had thought everything out.

Autumn entered the July-December room with some hesitation. She had never really befriended anyone in that group and it left her with awkward silence. Then there was Xabier, who she knew she would have to stand next to earlier. Falke, too, was someone she would rather not associate with. Though, that was due to the fact that they had never really connected on a personal level. Falke was an alright person and Autumn had nothing against him. Even though Mildred had told them not to, Autumn really wanted to leave.

She wished she were in the other room, talking to Dorian or Skylar. Well, mostly Dorian. The moment she stepped into the room a spirit had informed her of him hanging out with General Cress. She had been too preoccupied with her exhaustion and frustration to notice it before, but now that she knew it was rather alarming. Was he alright? Were they actually friends? Was General Cress secretly a really wonderful person? These were questions she had to ask Dorian in person, as only he could describe how he felt. Unfortunately, she had no time to do so.

Careful not to get anything on her dress, Autumn ate a few snacks to quell her rumbling stomach and pass the time.

Autumn had never worn a mermaid style dress before. She had always been too afraid it would make her look fat. This dress, however, was stunning. It was a beautiful black color, make perhaps of silk or satin or some other expensive material. What struck Autumn the most was how intense it was. Never before had she seen a black dress that commanded so much power. It hugged her body, making every curve stand out. Unfortunately, this also meant that upon close inspection one might see her ribcage.
Starting from the queen anne style neckline and down to the top of her hips, a thin layer of sheer white fabric on top of the black created a bodice. It was embroidered with silver thread. Tiny rhinestones and citrines were sown in, shining if the light hit them right. It swooped and swirled this way and that, the border ending in an asymmetrical v shape. In the center was a large diamond shaped citrine. This only proved to accentuate Autumn’s gemstone, which was now part of a fancy golden necklace with other smaller citrines in its intricate swirling pattern. Beads and rhinestones sown together made the delicate looking off of the shoulder straps. No doubt it was all for decoration.

Autumn was rather surprised at the sleeves. She had expected something long, like her previous dresses, to cover her muscles and scars. Instead, they were out in the open. There was a time when this would have embarrassed her, but she was now proud. Her pale skin shone from her bath last night (and perhaps in contrast to the dress) and in her mind she was beautiful.
The train of the skirt was long, flowing behind like a river. The same swirling pattern from the necklace and bodice was put onto the hem. Silver embroidery was embellished with small rhinestones and citrines which shone like the stars at night. Though it mostly kept itself to the base of the skirt and train, it would rise up from time to time for just a touch of elegance.

The back of the dress commanded just as much attention as the front. The fabric was cut out in the back, creating a v shaped opening that ended at the middle of her back. It was laced together tightly enough to keep the dress up but not enough to make the fabric touch. Citrines hung from the thin golden colored cord in a similar style to the necklace. The decorated embroidery continued around the back, this time the v shape going upwards and the lace ending at her hips.

Walking in the dress, Autumn almost felt as if she were gliding. It certainly looked ethereal, yet it kept that sense of power. Somehow, she looked beautiful yet fearsome. There was no need for softly flowing fabric. Death was not soft and neither was the dress.

Autumn wondered just how Mildred was able to get such a detailed dress so soon. Perhaps there was no task too big or her? It even had a warm charcoal colored cloak with elegant embroidery, which along with braids might as well have been her trademark.
Autumn blinked, wondering how her makeup didn’t get in her eyes. Somehow, everything was perfect. Her blonde hair fell down her shoulders in soft curls, the bangs braided and tied together in the back. Simple golden ribbons were braided in, creating a rather elegant look.

No doubt this was the biggest day of all. With everything that happened, it had to be something extreme.

What to do now? She couldn’t stand there eating snacks all day. And what if someone she didn’t want to talk to decided to make small talk? It came down to a decision.

Autumn approached Falke with a soft smile and a hello, hoping he didn’t mind her presence.

I’m so sorry to bother you, she thought in hopes that he would pick up on it. She never really communicated with him in that way other than the battle, so she wasn’t sure how it worked.

It’s just that I really don’t want to be forced into an uncomfortable situation with Xabier. I know it’s a bit of a burden, but please. I had to dance with Xabier last night and I do not want that to happen again. Save me?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones
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Nothing more than expected, she said and didn't elaborate before changing the subject. Something involving fear, anger, disgust and disrespect most likely. Nikita sighed. She also had her share of those experiences before, but Lillian didn't want to talk about it obviously, just like Haru and Ryou didn't want to talk about why they weren't talking to each other. Was it really nosy to want to know why people she liked were upset? Of course, she never told any of them why she was upset before arriving in Rose Kingdom or why she couldn't sleep the weeks they spent in jail. She turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut to force the memories back. Eventually she submitted to Lillian's subject change and accepted the compliments on her light green dress. She smiled lightly and finished her drink, passing it off to a server. Nikita shrugged a little in response to Lillian asking if she enjoyed herself. "It's nice but I think I would enjoy it more in a previous life."

Falke offered to take the drinks off his hands and let him dance, and Kyle flushed a little. Of course the guy who could read minds would know more than anyone else. At the same time, he knew he hadn't been paying much attention to Falke lately and they were supposed to be friends. Falke probably wasn't enjoying himself much either. Attention was never something he seemed to want.

The younger blond turned back to Skylar. He flushed slightly more pink and met her light blue eyes with a soft, cherishing smile. In that moment he caved, passing off the glasses of alcohol to either Falke or a passing server. Once his hands freed, he reached out to stroke her face just under her ear. Uncertainly he curled his fingers back at the last minute. Then he bent slightly and grasped her hand instead, lifting it to kiss the top. All the while, he never turned from her face. When would he have another chance like this?

The moment didn't last long enough. Xabier's voice broke through his mind and he gripped Skylar's hand tighter, looking up to the Spaniard with a glare. The interruption was not appreciated.

In some ways he was still angry with his prior friend, but he did open the door for him to act like a friend again and talk. Efforts had been made to restore the relationship, but Kyle still didn't think he could trust him, because he still avoided the subject of why they separated in the first place. That was the most important step forward. Only by knowing the why can he understand what to do in the future.

Still, his anger didn't linger as he watched Xabier and Autumn drift away with Morgan for an impromptu dance class. He gave a chuckle. Morgan's absolute joy in being around people infected him too. Despite the Spaniard's awkward presence, he really wanted to join them, but he couldn't force Skylar into something she wouldn't enjoy. His flush deepened a little more and he swallowed, but managed to say, "Are you sure you don't want to dance? Will you dance with me?"

If she wanted to dance, Kyle would be an eager dance partner, but if not, they could take a walk in the gardens outside and Falke would also be invited, if he wanted to get away. Either way, at the end of the night, he could honestly say he enjoyed himself. He had a chance to spend time with Skylar he didn't before.

Unfortunately, the next day left his brief happy memories of the party in the dust. It felt like the day they were locked up, but worse. Instead of just Haru and Nikita poking at him, a host of strangers were doing it. This time he couldn't hide or shrug off the panic. Trembling and sweating, he shook off the latest set of prodding hands. "Need air," he gasped and fled to the gardens. Once outside he nearly collapsed against one of the fountains, clinging for dear life. "Safe. not prison." There he remained, trying to get himself back together.

He had to change his shirt before submitting to the final touches on his ceremonial uniform. Because of that, he arrived a little late to the rehearsal, getting a glare from Mildred. He flushed and pulled his collar, but made extra effort in paying attention to the frenetic little woman's directions. His tasks seemed easy enough, but he also flinched at the order not to sneak away. A gilded cage. Could he really keep from freaking out? He didn't have pleasant memories of this Harbringer either. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It's almost over. Almost over.

After that trial, they dispersed to two separate rooms. That went by fairly well, even though Kyle ended up stuck in a room with Harper for an hour. He hadn't been acting the fool as much lately, but he still was a selfish bastard who can't be trusted. Skylar, Tallyho, and Dorian were pleasanter company. Because of the selfish bastard's earlier snubbing of Skylar,-He would never forgive Harper for that- Kyle remained protectively close and offered her anything she asked for from the table. He personally was disappointed in the lack of fish, which seemed ridiculous considering it was more like a buffet than the snack table Mildred called it.

While things were calm, he looked over to Tallyho and Dorian and caught part of the conversation. He unfortunately wasn't paying enough attention to know that Dorian went anywhere last night, but Tallyho did and asked the March Warrior about it. Dorian answered that he saw a new part of the Rose Kingdom. When and how did he do that? Kyle wished he could find a way to get out of this gilded cage and look around. "Where did you go?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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The dance was probably the most fun he'd had in a long time.

Gregarious setting where he could still flit from person to person and get his own space if need be? No politics to worry about? Drinks all around?

Harper reveled in it.

At some point he sauntered over to Xabi and the others, (the fact that Morgan was with them certainly not playing into his reasoning) and danced first with Skylar, very briefly with Morgan, and then not long enough with Xabi.

And he got drunk. Oh so drunk. It took every ounce of will-power not to make-out with every person present.

Flirting, however, was a free for all, and he did so with everyone in his drunken, blurry sight.

The next day brought a hangover like a hammer. The kind only coffee could control. Or the closest thing they had to it. A bitter drink that was more tea than anything, but Harper downed it and drank water like a fish as people ferreted around him, sticking him with pins other sharp things as they fitted his suit.

It was a nice suit. A tailcoat. Greens and blues like the ocean, a gradient from top to bottom growing darker and darker with a shiny, pearl-ish fabric for the foam on the waves that sprayed up against his shoulders, which greatly resembled a certain Japanese woodblock print. The buttons were of actual pearl, and smaller grains of them dotted the shirt underneath in vertical columns. His hair was parted and tamed with a sap stronger than any hair-gel he'd ever used back home. Each curl and wave perfectly situated.

He felt like an art piece. He wanted to walk right into the MoMA and present himself for gallery viewing. Even his shoes were snappy, so dark a blue they were almost black, with even smaller pearls across the tongue. After the outfit had been complete, he'd immediately bee-lined for Xabi, showing off the coat, and dropping compliments with not so subtle innuendos to the younger boy.

Edna Mode ruined the mood with instructions. Sip don't gulp. Raise your hands in the air like you just don't care. But actually care this time. Don't run away and don't ruin your clothes.

And then they were divided. And whatever euphoria Harper had felt at the snappy clothes and Xabi were immediately dashed as he was shuffled off into a room with the kid who's only wish seemed to be for his demise.

I don't like you but since we're stuck with each other we have to work together Harper thought in his head sarcastically, Kyle's voice distorted into an exaggerated mimic, My name's Kyle and I hate your guts and would kill you but I won't. Try to be more like me.

Skylar and Dorian should have made this better, but Dorian was off with Tallyho and his diamond majesty was hovering around his other friend for whatever reason, which only left Gwen, who through all these years he still hardly knew. He was surprised he remembered her name. For the longest time she was just The Asian Girl with the Knife.

If he could switch her out for Xabi this would be perfect.

But perfection rarely comes to those who ask for it, and right now Harper was painfully aware of how excluded he was. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd been spending so much time with Xabi, or if maybe this was how it always was.

But then his eyes focused on Kyle and Skylar. No. This hadn't always been this way. It used to be Harper and Skylar. For three goddamn years it had been Harper and Skylar. And he'd be damned if he let this blond kid with anger problems butt his way in between.

Besides, Kyle probably wouldn't punch him or anything now. That would ruin his clothes. The kid wouldn't want people yelling at him. Or so Harper hoped.

Grin starting on his face, he made up his mind and walked over to Skylar. "I don't want to alarm you," he said, hand on his hip, "But you happen to be in the presence of a great masterpiece. Behold!" He struck a pose, flaunting the jacket, "The Great Wave off Canandaigua! By the brilliant artist Hawkseye!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Falke der Herrscher
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Tallyho wasn’t so upset with Dorian after he brought up that hilarious memory. Tallyho was always very nonchalant after drinking, a quiet, somber, rather calm drunk. But Dorian
. Well it was a wonder he could hold his alcohol long enough for it to slither down his throat.
She smirked slightly, her eyes squeezing in the shape of sliced melons, squinted and joyful.
This expression fell however when Kyle joined the conversation. She didn’t particularly mind his entrance but she tended to be a lot happier when exclusively dealing those who she considered to be her good friends. Besides he could have very well spoken to Skylar who he had been obsessively attached to as of late. And perhaps that might have been the best thing to do as Harper began to butt in.
She rolled her eyes. Since the academy it had been increasingly obvious to Tallyho that Skylar liked Harper and that Harper only dealt with Skylar when he had nothing better to do, i.e. mess around with Xabier. And perhaps the reason Tallyho didn’t think much of Skylar was because all this time it seemed like she continually opened herself up to Harper and let him back into her life only to be tossed aside again and again like a piece of trash. At least that’s how Tallyho saw it, especially as someone who considered herself to be in the same (though not nearly as detrimental) situation with Xabier.
In the beginning she was under the impression that they were friends. But of course as time went on he would decline her invitations to dance with her and Falke, or refuse to eat with them. Not to mention his inexplicable distaste for Dorian. But whenever something major happened he wanted to insert himself into her life full-force only to drift away without a warning. It was artificial and Tallyho wouldn’t let herself play that game as long as Skylar had with Harper. She mentally separated herself from that relationship long ago.
And as Harper went on she couldn’t hide the way her brows furrowed, the way she cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips in disbelief.
“Harper,” she began, “what’s wrong with you? You and Xabier?”
That was the most she’d probably ever said to him in one sitting. And though it wasn’t a conversation she was a part of, as a woman she was getting pretty fed up watching this cycle.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Gwenneth Yuan
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If only she had just stopped after the first question.

But she hadn't, and whatever smart-ass response he would have pulled out died in his throat when he heard Xabi's name.

"Wr-wrong? With us?" he repeated, stammering, and laughed. Fake. Defensive. Walls up. Did she know? "There's nothing wrong with us." If anything, it was only the best with them, but he didn't say that.

He leaned as casually as he could against the table of food. "We're just bros...best...best bros."

Of course, with the lack of context that was Tallyho's mind, Harper had no real way of knowing what exactly she was referring to. Even thinking over the question again only brought up their supposedly secret relationship.

"I mean, there's tons of stuff wrong with me," he continued, plucking out some grapes with his tanned fingers, "I think we can all attest to that. He could probably write a book on it," he pointed a finger at Kyle. "But me and Xabi? Nah." He popped a handful of the small fruit into his mouth, shaking his head vigorously, curls dangerously close to coming loose again.

"Nothing wrong there."

He swallowed, and asked, voice still a bit high, but eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. "Why? Do you think something's wrong?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields
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"Bug off, scumbag," he growled and shoved the jerk away from Skylar. Fancy clothes wouldn't get in the way if he actually decided to fight him. At worst, he'd have a few wrinkles. That bastard was too much of a coward to do anything to mess up Kyle's clothes more than that. He proved his cowardice time and time again, in relationships and battles. Instead of respectfully pulling out of a relationship, he simply ignored the other person unless it suited him. Playing with hearts and emotions like puppets on strings. Kyle snarled and balled his hands in fists.

His head snapped up at a squeaky high-pitched word from Harper. "Xabi? Who's Xabi?" Eyes narrowed, he turned toward the increasingly anxious scumbag. Did that mean what he thought it meant? Xabier was Kyle's friend in their academy years. After the fire, Xabier started avoiding him with no explanation, and he still wouldn't explain himself. Kyle never called him Xabi. Could he be avoiding him because he was with Harper? Everyone knew Kyle hated Harper, and no one knew better than the people he spent most of his time with. "Damn Bastard!" He stalked over to the table where Harper tried to hide himself. "It's your fault!"