Kyle Keaton's Story

Haru was less annoyed by Harper’s outburst and more perplexed.

“Well some can, I suppose. There are variations in cyclopean depending on the geography and climate. For example, Nomansland and Eastern Isle tend to see more water snake types.”

He guessed that the kid’s question was pretty valid considering the fact that they hadn’t gotten to talk about the biological diversity of the race yet.

It was a little hard for Tallyho to take their exchange seriously considering the fact that she grew up with those details being common knowledge. She smirked a little and focused on other people’s exchanges. Xabier seemed to be buddying up with Kyle very quickly. She still had to properly thank him. Though, doing so while climbing down to what felt like the center of the planet didn’t seem like the best idea. As she pondered potential opportunities, her thoughts were interrupted by a dim light and Haru’s sudden announcement.

“We are here. Watch your step.”

And of course Tallyho didn’t. She floundered out of the small tunnel like a fish pulled from water. Her ankles fell limp as she let out a heavy breath and plummeted onto her hands and knees. Haru unthinkingly snagged her by the arm and pulled her onto her feet like a cat pulling its kitten by the scruff of her neck.

The room was lit by a series of wall torches. Tallyho looked in bewilderment. How were the torches already lit? Haru caught her eye and assured her that it was just a simple enchantment.

“They will always burn.”

Before them was a long, stony runway with a mighty statue perched at the end of the path. It was the Goddess, a vision of limestone. Her arm outstretched to the rocky ceiling. An earthling might liken her statue to the Nike of Samothrace. Like the Nike the Goddess lunged forward as if she were about to pounce into a passionate flight, though her statue still has its head and arms.

Along each wall was a set of six displays—each one holding a specific weapon. In the stone of each display the name of a month was carved.

“Go on,” Haru said, “Find your month.”

And so Tallyho went. She looked back and forth, scanning for her name in the fray of relic and enchantment. It seemed that the earlier months were placed nearest to the statue of the Goddess. Tallyho looked past her weapon, focusing on the carving of her month instead. She then looked up at the statue. The blonde was right below the Goddess’ palm and she felt scared. She looked at the display to digest what her weapon was.

She wasn’t too surprised—that her weapon was but a long sword. She imagined that the others wielded more fantastical things.
Tallyho took the weapon and handled it gingerly. She observed the crude stitching on its leather sheath. It was a little heavy and she struggled to pull the sheath off and see what the condition of the blade was.

It was dull—a cloudy, silver something with irregular chips along its length. Haru wasn’t kidding about the conditions of these weapons but how in the world was she supposed to NOT break this?

After allowing the warriors a few moments of observation, Haru called out to them.

“Let’s head out of here now. The sooner we leave the better. To prevent thievery I made this place so that once the weapons were removed, the lobby would collapse.”

The redhead made quick fanning motions towards the door and asked Ryou to take the front while he took the rear. Though Haru told them not to panic as they climbed, Tallyho couldn’t help but feel her pulse pounding through tiny veins.

Once outside she perched onto the grass and laid her sword out into the sun. Behind them the hill of the mound slowly sunk into the shape a pit.

“Well that got done quicker than I expected,” Haru huffed, hands on his hips. He looked to Ryou, “Should we start making our way over the mountains now? I think they are ready to train.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on. Find your month."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on. Find your month.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Ryou's answer stumped Harper--in particular he found it a bit unfair...didn't evolution make sure things weren't one-sided for one species?--but he still pondered how else to get rid of this Cyclopean problem when his eyes landed on Skylar's weapon.

"You got a hammer??" he exclaimed, loping over to her, "You can totally whack-a-mole everything with this thing!" He glanced at his own weapon, in Ryou's hands, and grimaced, "I don't suppose you know how to use stabby-stabby-pokey things, do you?" he asked Skylar, "Because we should totally trade."

He would have elaborated, but at that moment Xabier and Kyle came into view, and he felt sick again. "Okay, new plan," he said, arms folded over his stomach, "We get Haru to cook a million pounds of chicken, and then feed it to the Cyclopeans. Then, in the midst of their food-poisoning throes, we round them up and then drown them."

"I honestly don't know what to believe most of the time, but with all this weirdness, I can't believe there's absolutely nothing behind it," Kyle responded to Xabier as they came to the room with torches. By now, the shorter boy was a bit more relaxed and opened his eyes. This space was bigger and brighter than the tunnel they came from, but he still felt uncomfortable. He couldn't see any other entrances or exits, and tensed up again as he crept over to the table with his weapon. The blond boy had no interest in lingering, and picked it up right away.

Turning over his shoulder he shivered, as he was too close to that statue. It looked like it would leap out and grab him. "It's just a statue of stone," he whispered to himself. He thought he felt the ground tremble and his eyes widened as he fled back through the tunnel, much faster than coming down.

After reaching safety, Kyle lay in the grass gripping his weapon and breathing hard. He caught his breath, only to see the entire mound suddenly disappear. The boy sat up with a shudder. "That was crazy!" He always was buried alive! "I don't ever want to do that again!"

Sitting in the grass, he took the time to look at his weapon. It looked like a tall worn-out stick with strange marks on it, but he found a string attached to one of the ends. Unconsciously he looped the loose end of string to the open end of the stick. "Ah! A bow!" He stood to try it. Standing up, the bow was almost as tall as he was. How could he use this thing? Yea, that's what the training would be for. He sighed and moved closer to where Haru and Ryou were talking about the next step. "Oooohhh! Mountain climbing. Sounds like fun!" Kyle grinned, and showed that yes, indeed he was serious.

His grin turned to a frown, as Harper's rude comment caught his attention. "Just because you don't like something doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it. Why don't you try cooking on a campfire and then you can talk."

He paused and looked down to Harper's feet. Suddenly his irritation changed course. He gripped the older and taller guy's arm to hold his attention. "If we're going mountain climbing, you need to change into proper shoes. You know I don't like you, but I don't hate you enough to want you dead, which could happen if you don't have sneakers or boots. Not only would those flip flops be destroyed, but your entire leg could be, and leave you unable to swim. I may be younger and shorter than you, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything. I know about rock climbing and mountain climbing. I say you need to change your shoes before we go up the mountain so you..." he squeezed the arm tighter and looked up with a face of stone. "I do this so you don't get hurt."

Kyle let go and added for everyone's benefit, "That goes the same for everyone else. We as a group and as a team can't afford any broken ankles or legs or other smashed bones."

Harper would have retorted to Kyle's comment, but was interrupted when the younger boy grabbed his arm.

He did not like that...yeah, nope, no, nuh-uh, he did not like that at all.

But the guy had a grip of steel and Harper didn't want to struggle just in case Kyle decided he'd prefer socking him into submission, so he stood there, forced to listen to the stupid punk's words.

"If we're going mountain climbing--"

Wait, mountain climbing? Who said anything about mountain climbing? Why were we climbing mountains?

"You know I don't like you, but I don't hate you enough to want you dead"

Well, that was comforting, I suppose, but still, what was this about mountains again?

"Not only would those flip flops be destroyed, but your entire leg could be, and leave you unable to swim."

Yes that was true. Wait, what was this guy talking about again? And what happened to the mountains?

"I may be younger and shorter than you, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything."

....uh...ok...did height relate to intelligence? That's news to me.

"I know about rock climbing and mountain climbing."

Yeah. They got you killed. And are both activities I actively avoid.

"I say you need to change your shoes before we go up the mountain so you..."

What? So I what? So I wha-ow ow ow, my arm. That is my arm. You are crushing my arm. Ow. Ow. Ow.

"I do this so you don't get hurt.

HAH! Could have fooled me! To that I say, HAH! And HAH again!

Finally the blond let go of his arm, and Harper shook it vigorously, trying to get the blood circulating again as he took a few steps away from Kyle as well. "Any smashed bones?" he snorted, "Well, considering you nearly broke my arm, I think your strategy is going wonderfully. Oh, and where the hell am I going to get any Kyle-certified boots or shoes? They just gonna rain down from the sky or something? Do we even have any money for that?"

He turned towards Haru and Ryou for that last question, still shrugging his arm. Mentally, he was still freaking out about the mountain climbing thing...they wouldn't really be climbing mountains, right? Maybe mountains was just a metaphor for a hill or something...just imagining some Mt. Everest-like behemoth looming before them made him sick to the stomach in a way that made his previous tummy-ache pale in comparison. Knots tied in and out, and he could feel his knees growing weak.

He tried to laugh it off. He succeeded in smiling as he looked at Haru. "Hey, Haru, my man..." he said, voice a little higher than usual, "Be straight with me for a second...we're not actually scaling a mountain, right? The kid over there is overexaggerating or something....right?"

Skylar looked up from her spot on the grass, having finally begun to calm down after their little experience down in the cavern. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn and she quickly pushed the memory to the back of her mind, hoping that they wouldn’t have to do anything like it again anytime soon.

“Well, I would assume you do just that with it- stab and poke,” She replied with a smirk, pulling herself up off the ground and brushing the skirt of her dress off. “And honestly, do you really want to trust me with something like that?"

She reached over to pick up her hammer, wincing at the weight. If she could barely pick it up, how was she supposed to fight with it? Wrapping her hands around the handle, she gave it a few practice swings and nearly fell over in the process. Whoever decided that the fate of Aires was partially in her hands had made a terrible choice.

Having been distracted by her hammer crisis, she almost missed the conversation that was currently taking place between Kyle and Harper. The sight of the smaller, younger boy grabbing on to Harper’s arm was actually pretty comical, but Skylar had to give Kyle credit for being so blunt about it- he may have seemed a little rough around the edges but seemed pretty genuine.

“Weeeelll, if you’d been listening before you would have heard Haru say that we're going to the mountains,” Skylar said, a teasing edge in her voice. She paused, raising a brow. “Why, is Harper afraid of a few little mountains?” She asked, noting the sudden highness of the older boy’s voice.

Kyle rolled his eyes and huffed at Harper's next stupid statement. "The worst you'll have on that arm is a bruise. Yes, it will be sore for a couple days but you shouldn't have any problems otherwise." He paused for a moment, not sure if he should bother answering something he saw as common sense. He took a deep breath and did anyway, "As for shoes, if you didn't have the sense to buy shoes at the market when you had both opportunity and money then you have to borrow a pair. I have extra, but I don't know if they'll fit." Why did he just say that? He didn't want that jerk touching his stuff! They were supposed to be a team, he reminded himself. Not much of a team yet, but something has to give in order to have a team work together. Harper will have to give too.

Team member or not, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the change in bigmouth's voice. Since the jerk beat people on the head with the fact that he was an "adult" early in the game, there was no way he could blame that crack in his voice on puberty. Some of the younger boys like Kyle probably still could use that excuse, not that he wanted to though. Embarrassing thoughts quickly cut off his laughter for the time being and he frowned, pretending to be incredibly interested in polishing the bow with his shirt. Of course nothing he did changed how shabby it looked. "umm..." The boy turned his eyes to Ryou, tenderly holding a large fork-like weapon in his hands like a great treasure. Who was standing and not carrying a weapon? Harper. Kyle sighed. It probably wasn't worth a fight. "Do we need anything special to take care of these weapons? If we do, would we have a chance to get it before climbing the mountains?"

***OOC: Added more to this post.


Haru let the warriors linger for a while. After all, they had just escaped from a collapsing mound. Anyone would need a breather after something like that happened. He answered the stray inquiries that came along and while he wasn’t completely onboard with being the one to cook a crap ton of chicken, he didn’t make his opinion of Harper’s “creativity” well known. Kyle asked about weapon maintenance the redhead simply told him that the most one could do for the weapon was give it attention. Learn it.

Not long after, Haru had the group setting off for the mountains. They passed through the conservation once more and cleaned up, grabbing their things, and disposing of charred wood that hadn’t completely burned the night before. Haru ended up giving their horses away.

Tallyho made sure to keep her passport close, and she was right to do so because the guards asked for their identification on the way out. It seemed pretty silly. After all, how could they not recognize such a large group? Nonetheless, Tallyho was happy to have left the conservation camp without too many troublesome episodes.

Haru hadn’t said much about the academy to the group. All they knew was that somehow that Ryou character was affiliated with it. Haru spoke to Ryou from time to time. But his voice was so low that Tallyho could barely make out what he was saying to his fellow guardian. She did, however, manage to catch a relieving piece of information—there would be a cart to meet them at the base of the mountain. Tallyho knew that Haru was a little too ambitious, but she didn’t think he was crazy enough to make a bunch of physically un-fit teenager climb a mountain trail on foot after a series of tiresome nights.

The group made its way down a dwindling dirt path that was wedged between the foothills. Tallyho found this trail particularly comforting because the path gave them a pretty good view for looking out for enemies. There were few bushes for cyclopean to jump out of and the path was so straight that an attack from in front of or behind the group would be pretty difficult.

Tallyho had good memories of the foothills. On the wandering holidays her people would make tight dense lines down the trail. At night, the caravan would sleep and share food. Sing songs, write songs, dance. The men and women would drink until they fell into slumbers—stuffed with beans, bread and liquor, stuffed with joy.

But this wasn’t like the caravan. This group was not nearly as dense in numbers. This group did not know what fun was—what music was—what nomadic life was like.

They only took one rest stop at the foothills. They weren’t near any water but one would hope that the members of the party would have thought to refill their supply while they were at the conservation camp. Tallyho did not. She went thirsty. But she couldn’t really blame anyone but herself. After all, what made her think that she would get much water out of her team members? They barely knew one another.

They continued on and Tallyho became annoyed with the foothills. She desperately awaited their growth into mountains—the mountain base—ox cart—rest. When she was a girl, the foothills of the wandering holidays went by so much quicker. When she was a girl, she was asleep the carts, head nestled on the hill of her mother’s lap. There are no mothers anymore.

A burgundy figure appeared on the horizon of the path. Haru was sure to stop the others. After all, the group wasn’t in the condition for any fatal interactions. The redhead looked closely and he realized that it was a monk. Cautious, but a bit more relaxed, Haru made his way over to the holy man, his appearance more apparent as the distance shrunk. Tallyho observed the way his shaved head reflected the sun. His jaw was sharp and he was brown like the people of Nomansland. He was a man of Nomansland whose ancestry was probably tainted with a bit of Rose. His attire was simple, a true monks-wear, body stripped of all that is metal and therefore valuable. He owned nothing but the robes on his back and the string of prayer beads that spiraled through his fingers. His head was bowed and though a group of strangers were falling into earshot rapidly, he did not react to them. He seemed to be hurt, actually. His hands where cupped over his right foot. A fine silver arrow with a tail of blue feathers sat beside him—sun-hot and blood stained.

“Can we help you?” Haru asked. The warriors could not help the people of the conservation but they could help now, they were free to be warriors.

“I am fine, brother.”

Brother. That’s what the monks called every man on the planet—sister for the women. It disgusted Tallyho to be quite honest. She never liked organized religion. Why was she there? Why was that month warrior thing happening? The story of the warriors was just another bedtime story. Tallyho did not believe in brothers and sisters. How could humans call one other brothers and sisters when they waged such merciless war? There was a genocide in Nomansland. The missionaries and the militaries tried to make them believe-eve-eve. They would not leave.

International news hardly reached the common people. But Tallyho heard about it—that’s how she knew it was serious.

“Let me help you,” Haru said as he knelt down to tend to the man’s foot. He nodded to the rest of the group. “You can take a rest now,” he said. “We have a little more ways to go.”

Tallyho did not budge, however. Instead, she hovered near Haru—curious about the wounded monk. She picked up the arrow strewn at his side and felt a sudden rush of energy pulse through her. It was as if tiny lightning bolts ran from its metal to her palms and it felt amazing.

“This is what wounded you? What happened?” she asked—not thinking about how forward she was being.

“I did not see who shot it,” the monk said. His sharp, thick brows furrowed, “it just suddenly shot into my foot. I pulled it out. I really appreciate your help in speeding up the process. Goddess bless.”

“What were you going to do? Pray about it?” Tallyho asked. Haru shot her a look and the blonde had to admit that her tone came off as a little rude.

“What is your name and where are you from?” Haru asked.

“I am Kwasi Ihejirika.”

“Kwasi… Nomansland?”

“Well… Yes and no. I am of that ancestry but I am from the Monastery of the Sun.”

“Where were you headed?” Haru asked. His brows were furrowed and he seemed particularly concerned. Tallyho figured that his sudden compassion might have been spurred by the fact that this man was an official of the church. This wasn’t uncharacteristic at all for Haru who held his own undying devotion for the Goddess.

“I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular. I just finished delivering medicine to the natives down at the conservation camp. You know... There are a lot of medical epidemics lurking behind those walls. It’s a blessing those people are still alive.” The monk said this solemnly.
Haru looked the man’s foot and nodded to him. “Let us take you with us. There’s no way in Aires that you’re going to be getting anywhere on that foot.”

“That is very kind of you, brother. But you seem to be in such a large party—food must be very scarce. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Haru said, “we are almost to our destination. You can come with us and receive treatment.”

“Very well.”

Haru would have asked Ryou for help carrying the man. After all, the blonde was brawnier. But Haru figured that since he was the one who invited the monk to their party, he would have to be the one to take full responsibility. Haru might have been a short man, but he wasn’t in any way weak. It wasn’t even that awkward really, carrying that man on his back. He wasn’t that much taller than the redhead was—okay well maybe he was a lot taller—but Haru could hold the monk up just enough to get the pressure off of his foot when he limped.

“Let’s keep going, guys.”

A few hours passed and the group finally left the foothills. The mountains were poking out from the green and soon they stumbled upon the figure of an oxcart in the distance. Tallyho was overjoyed. She disregarded the idea that they still hadn’t reached the academy. The thought of not having to walk anymore was enough for her. She quickly approached the cart only to be reprimanded by Haru who made sure the monk received a seat first. Tallyho made sure she sat as far away from the newcomer as possible.

The man driving the cart seemed to know Ryou. When the golden guardian approached he quickly nodded his head at him—his voice was full of joyous character yet dry as stale bread. He must have been an older man—the turkey neck and wrinkles really gave it away. Tallyho observed the driver. He seemed to be from eastern isle. He didn’t talk much at first but after he began his babblings, his accent confirmed her speculations.

The man spoke of war and food—anything that made its way across his scattered mind. Tallyho learned to tune it out after a while. She hadn’t paid much attention to who she sat next to, but she buried her head into the shoulder of whoever it was and was way too tired to care.

Falke's memory of 'who was who' of the people of the group during the week and a half he'd known them mostly revolved around matching their voices to their names. And that was only because of unintentional eavesdropping, more often than not. It wasn't as if he actually started most, if any come to think of it, of the idle chit-chat that had floated around amongst relative strangers. However, some (but very few, honestly), like Xabier for instance, whom was currently coming up to his right shoulder from behind, had familiar footsteps that he recognized along with their voices and their names. And with the overly friendly Spaniard's personality thus far, he knew a expressively fond pat was likely on its way. Still, he'd have you know, it was just as confusing as the first time to receive from someone who was little more than a stranger - even with considering destiny's nonsense, and Xabier already very assured he was his friend. At the very least, the knowledge allowed him the ability to pre-wince (and hopefully avoiding the potential back-lash sometimes associated with his disgruntled expressions) at the prospect of generally unwanted contact. His eyes crinkled slightly, his shoulders stiffened partially, and a flash of a grimace parted his maw; when the hand first patted down. His face was blank by the time he shifted his weight, ducked his shoulder out from under Xabier's hand, and turned to the side to face the other boy - his blearily eyes had an air of polite, refined curiosity to them, without a trace of the annoyance touching on faint anger burning away hidden in his inner thoughts.

"Aha! We match!" Falke had to blink at that one. Even one of his eyebrow rebelliously twitched, as if wanting to break his usually stoic mask and raise high in question to the others excited statement and shoulder clapping. But the most he did, was tilt his head slightly as he pondered a meaning to the words and a response to answer the other. His first question was match what? They were both guys, okay, Europeans, yup, accents that muddled their English a bit (his more so, or so he thought, but still...), check; huh, anything else? No, not really. Personality's were apart quite significantly it seemed, and if he could see - their looks, body-types, etc - weren't a match in the slightest, honestly. The only thing that he could remotely think of as a possibility of matching was possibly their weapons, but then again it wouldn't be extremely likely for people to have matching 'spirit' warrior weapon-things amongst twelve people - similar perhaps, but matching not so much. And the second was it really all this exciting, or well, er - likely phrased better as should he put forth the effort in becoming excited himself? As far as all his emotions were concerned, ahh, nope. Well... "Humm." Falke managed to rumble out, finally, in growling hummed response. He couldn't really think of anything else to say, or ask really; that just wasn't really him, the small-talk. But at the very least he thought to be polite, he put an emphasis of light intrigue in his tone and general stance.

Because of Xabier's 'distraction' of a sort, Falke had only managed to catch a few of the conversations floating about the month warrior group in the time the warriors lingered. And even then it was bits and pieces of relative nonsense, and really, he could ignored most of Harper's interesting input in how to take care of the Airian monsters. Luckily for him, however, he didn't have to talk any more as Haru - after letting the warriors linger for a while and catch their breathe after escaping from the collapsing mound - had the group setting off for the mountains shortly. They returned to the conservation again, cleaned up camp, grabbed their things, and the horses were given away. Once again the guards asked for identification on the way out as they had when they arrived, and once again with his mangled name of "Fluke." he passed through the gate with ease.

Falke, as before on the walk to the mound in the morning, he found himself at the tail-end of the group; constantly, steadily walking forward. His primarily focus on walking, cautious of every step, and careful not to step on anyone's heels in front of him (or behind him, however that would happen, too). Lord, he missed the horses. On and on they walked, a straight, narrow road, foothill after foothill, and a break or two in-between. Once for water, he sipped lightly because he didn't want to get water-sick but gratefully for the coolness of the liquid from his own canteen; and a second, for a injured stranger named Kwasi Ihejirika (eek, he didn't even remotely want to even attempt to pronounce that, ever, he'd butcher it). Brother, Goddess Blessed, Nomansland, Monastery of the Sun - new terms that made him assume he was some sort of monk or religious man, but given that the terms were indeed new, different, and confusing, he saved his own thoughts to himself and he'd get it explained to him later if it was important to know he supposed. Haru helped him up, and brought him with them - apparently they were close to their destination, great.

He wouldn't have called a few hours passing as close to a destination, but given the technology or 'magic' as it was here in Aires, likely walking as far as they did through the foothills to arrive at the mountains was some sort of feat potentially - so, he didn't feel to complain verbally or mentally. Falke was pleasantly surprised in the knowledge that they had some cart to take them up into the mountains to this Academy, and was darn well happy to get off his feet - until, well...

It was cramped in the ox-cart, shoulder to shoulder, touching. And someone to his left kept burying their head into his shoulder. No matter how many time he attempted to wiggle away from their hot-breath tickling his neck line and long hair (he could only assume it being a girl at this point, but he didn't know) uncomfortably prickling its way through his clothing to stab his skin underneath, she/they would still be there and her/their head would still be buried in his shoulder. Or in all reality, Falke ended up just being too tired to fight anymore or care about it. He dipped his chin toward his chest with a soft sigh parting his lips, half shutting his eyes against the glint of the sun and looking for the most part falling into a fast slumber after tuning out the random babbles of the ox-cart driver. But whenever a wheel rattled haltingly over rough terrain, or someone accidentally kicked his shins given the close quarters they were in; a grimace flashed unto his maw for a few moments at a time before disappearing again, making it clear that he clearly was as asleep as he'd like to be.

Harper didn't answer Skylar directly, though he did grimace in her direction before taking back his trident.

Harper's initial decision was to not look down as they were climbing over the foothills. But as the mountains loomed closer and closer, and even the foothills were starting to look big and his stomach started to turn, he decided the best course of action was to just look down at the grass and his feet. Yeah....even if the elevation changed, the grass wouldn't look any closer or farther away. Which kept him calm.

He managed to stay good, albeit very quiet, until they reached the ox cart. Accidentally, he looked up, and nearly shat his pants.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." he gasped, although to others around him it would have just sounded like inaudible guttural noises somewhat resembling choking.

The mountain was...well...mountainous, in every sense of the word. He felt sick just by looking at it. He could already feel his stomach flip over and over, like a gyroscope. His sweaty hands were clenched into fists, white knuckles against the rusty trident. He was reminded of that one Eminem song, but rather than having his heart race for something exciting, it pounded for all the wrong reasons.

He swallowed dryly, looking away from the mountain peak as he waited to clamber onto the oxcart. He tried to get near the middle so that at least he wouldn't need to look over the side or feel like he'd fall out, but with so many people, and an injured man, on the cart, after much shoving he was forced to the edge of the cart. He didn't complain though...he was far too terrified to even think of something sarcastic, much less say something sarcastic. He was 1000% sure that if he opened his mouth, he'd puke. As much as he didn't like most of these people, he hated vomiting even more.

So he sat, legs pulled up and bent against his chest, eyes squeezed shut and buried into his knees, one hand grabbing the edge of the oxcart for dear life, the other clutching the trident to him, the other end resting and bumping against his shoulder.

Each time the cart jostled this way or that, his stomach swooped up to his throat, and he was simultaneously afraid that a) he'd fall off the cart, b) they'd all fall off the mountain, and c) he'd blow chunks all over the place. C nearly happened shortly after Kyle offered everyone something that Harper could only assume was food, and the thought of food combined with a sudden bump nearly ended terribly. He tried to make himself think he wasn't on a mountain, but that didn't work for two reasons: 1, thinking he wasn't on a mountain only reminded him that he was still on a mountain, and 2, the steadily growing incline was hard to ignore.

So, in the end, as they traveled up to the summit, he didn't say a single word, and the only thing he thought was: I hate this. I hate this. I hate this so much.

Xabier listened to Kyle and the loud Harper bicker. He was surprised to see Kyle being quiet and scared of the dark, one minute, to impatient and in control,in the next minute. Xabier wasn't fond of conflict. He had had enough of it back home. It was one of the main reasons that he had agreed to go to America in the first place. He understood Kyle. He was just like his own friends Paulo, Alonzo and Cruz.
Harper, on the other hand, confused him. He looked like he was in his early twenties but acted much younger. Xabier had many older friends back home and in New York, but none of them gave off the same aura as Harper.

They were snapping at each other the way the elderly ladies of Bilbao and his friend Roderigo's Abuela fought over bingo. One of them said something to do with shoes?? Why were they fighting about shoes?? Did one of them steal some shoes? Xabier was tempted to go over and play peace keeper but his head was pounding so he didn't bother.
They looked like they could have come to blows when Kyle held up his shoes in offering.
Strange Americans. They fight so easily over little things.

Falke, the other European was also strange. However Xabier enjoyed quietness between friends. It always evoked feelings of companionship. At least he hoped that Falke had felt the same way. Goodness knows what he was really thinking. He noticed that he would flinch whenever Xabier touched him. It made him feel bad in a way.

Xabier clutched the side of the cart unsteadily. He had left Haru to tend to this strange new addition to their group. He had appeared out of nowhere with a puncture wound in his foot. The bloody arrow indicated that he had been shot. It seemed like the man was some sort of holy man since he was in plain robes. Xabier was sceptical of spiritual things ever since he was 12.

Since he felt that science was the only way forward he had scoffed at his mother's family and even his best friend Inke. Childishly, he used to ignore the people he didn't agree with and deal with the more "rational" ones. It was only in the past few years that Xabier learned that everyone deserved to be treated with the same respect. Religious or not. So with unease, he knew that he'd try and help to the best of his abilities.

Xabier looked over at Haru. He had been impressed with how the shorter man had lifted the stranger with such ease and had dealt with the wound so well. He hated contradicting people but every time he saw someone injured he couldn't help himself.
"Ah-maybe we can re-clean it first before we get there? There is no point in having the cut- ...bad."
He needed clean material to re-bind the wound without getting it contaminated.

He turned to the monk and smiled sheepishly. He would try his best to help him until they could get him to proper medical attention. Grabbing the last of his remaining water (foolishly he had gulped it all down earlier. Idiot) he crouched down near the monk.
"Hello, I thought that you might need some help with that." Xabier looked pointedly down at the monks feet.

How long had he been riding? His entire life, actually. Ymir knew how to ride a horse before he could actually walk. By the Gods, he could've ridden his mount in his sleep if he wanted. But when it came to his actual journey, the one he had assigned himself after his village's demise was reaching into a month and he had almost reached its first destination. They would sleep first, he and his horse, and would rise the finally morning. Mountain ranges were to be taken in steps. "Wachiwi," he murmured to his horse before falling asleep, "Rest up. The hard part starts tomorrow." and for a second, he almost believed that she had understood his exact words.

They awoke when the sun was still due to rise and the sky had taken on this light-purple and orange color. Not exactly night or morning, but a bridge between both times. He took the time to wash up and check his mare's vitals before he decided they had enough food and water for a week's time. When they had reached the top, he was to visit the Monastery of the Sun, all to hear their definition of what was 'good' and 'bad' in this world. If he was satisfied, he would leave to live a quiet life in a village. If not, he would journey on, his need for knowledge, unsatiated. One would even say that this was a pilgrimage. But Ymir Tula was far from a pious priest.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was already reaching the middle of the day and they had barely covered much ground, much to his dismay. Wachiwi was far less moody at this point than he was, and she was the lady of the two. With each and every step, it felt as if those peaks were mocking him. However, he was grateful to be shielded from the sun's unbearable heat by the makeshift he wore, which was just a thin scarf worn over his head and vest. Still, that didn't keep his body from sweating, and by the time they had made it to this part of the mountain range, strings of his own hair clung to his face and neck.

It was, at this point, that he would come across a very strange sight. Twelve people, possibly more, all bundled up on a cart on a hot day on the foothills. Tsk. They all looked like they were unused to travel, too. Such a weak life they must've all lived.
"Hey," he guided his mount towards the cart, far more amused than he was sweaty or hot at this moment. "Your cart," he began, "...you have far too many people. It's not good. Especially on the mountains." he shook his head. He would slow down to ride beside them at the same pace as he tried to figure out why and where would so many people pack themselves into such a close spot. They didn't look like Solians, well, any Solian he'd bother to meet. But as far as he was concerned, they weren't his problem. "You make a bad move..." He took his thumb to make a slicing motion on his neck, "You'll die."

Well, he tried to warn them.

How long had he been riding? His entire life, actually. Ymir knew how to ride a horse before he could actually walk. By the Gods, he could've ridden his mount in his sleep if he wanted. But when it came to his actual journey, the one he had assigned himself after his village's demise was reaching into a month and he had almost reached its first destination. They would sleep first, he and his horse, and would rise the finally morning. Mountain ranges were to be taken in steps. "Wachiwi," he murmured to his horse before falling asleep, "Rest up. The hard part starts tomorrow." and for a second, he almost believed that she had understood his exact words.

They awoke when the sun was still due to rise and the sky had taken on this light-purple and orange color. Not exactly night or morning, but a bridge between both times. He took the time to wash up and check his mare's vitals before he decided they had enough food and water for a week's time. When they had reached the top, he was to visit the Monastery of the Sun, all to hear their definition of what was 'good' and 'bad' in this world. If he was satisfied, he would leave to live a quiet life in a village. If not, he would journey on, his need for knowledge, unsatiated. One would even say that this was a pilgrimage. But Ymir Tula was far from a pious priest.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was already reaching the middle of the day and they had barely covered much ground, much to his dismay. Wachiwi was far less moody at this point than he was, and she was the lady of the two. With each and every step, it felt as if those peaks were mocking him. However, he was grateful to be shielded from the sun's unbearable heat by the makeshift he wore, which was just a thin scarf worn over his head and vest. Still, that didn't keep his body from sweating, and by the time they had made it to this part of the mountain range, strings of his own hair clung to his face and neck.

It was, at this point, that he would come across a very strange sight. Twelve people, possibly more, all bundled up on a cart on a hot day on the foothills. Tsk. They all looked like they were unused to travel, too. Such a weak life they must've all lived.
"Hey," he guided his mount towards the cart, far more amused than he was sweaty or hot at this moment. "Your cart," he began, "...you have far too many people. It's not good. Especially on the mountains." he shook his head. He would slow down to ride beside them at the same pace as he tried to figure out why and where would so many people pack themselves into such a close spot. They didn't look like Solians, well, any Solian he'd bother to meet. But as far as he was concerned, they weren't his problem. "You make a bad move..." He took his thumb to make a slicing motion on his neck, "You'll die."

Well, he did try to warn them.

Skylar turned at the sound of another voice, only to find Gwen standing next to her. The girl held a box in her hands, and she could only assume that whatever weapon she had must have been inside. Obviously destiny must have liked her better, the box appearing to be much lighter than her awkwardly large hammer.

Even so, as nice as the gesture was, she wouldn’t accept the help- it just wasn’t in her nature. Skylar was as stubborn as she was independent, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Besides, if she didn’t get used to lugging it around now, what would happen when it came time for her to actually use it?

“I got it,” Skylar replied, offering the girl a nod. “Haven’t you heard? Carrying weapons that are almost entirely your size helps to build character,” Still, she appreciated the gesture, shifting the weapon in her hands before speaking again. “Thank you though.”

As they set off through the foothills, Skylar couldn’t help but be intrigued at the scenery, her pale eyes scanning the profiles of the mountains. Florida might have had beaches and Disney World, but the tourist trap was nothing compared to what she was seeing here. It was almost enough to take her breath away, the tightness in her chest from earlier slowly fading as they walked.

To be thrust into a cart packed with everyone else wasn’t exactly her first choice of activity after nearly being crushed to death in an underground cave, but at least they were out in the open with fresh air and sunlight.
Smushed between sweaty bodies towards the middle of the cart, she was slightly grateful for the reprieve from all the walking even if she could barely move.

As they continued on their journey, the driver rambling on with almost incomprehensible stories and Kyle offering up some of his extra food, she noticed that Harper hadn’t said much. Out of the entire group she was probably the closest to him, making it glaringly obvious that something was definitely up. She opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, pausing for a moment before deciding against the action. As someone who hated having her insecurities pointed out to her, she wasn’t sure how Harper would react. He was probably just sick from the ride- it was awfully bumpy. She'd ask him later.

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Skylar lifted her head. Eyes widening at the male’s warning, she glanced over in Haru’s direction to see how the guardian would respond.

Harper's eyes widened as an unfamiliar voice spoke, bemoaning of misfortune. Not exactly the best thing to hear when you're an acrophobe.

The silence he had before held broke, and a river of words flooded out.

"Bad move?" he repeated, quietly at first, but panic still in his voice, "What bad move? What constitutes as a bad move? What do you mean by a bad move? What kind of bad move would we make that would cause all of our deaths?"

He looked up, trying to find that other voice, but only finding familiar faces. "What did he mean by bad move?" he asked, voice climbing higher in volume and pitch, "Is it because we're so overcrowded? Are there so many people that the cart might snap? Will it tip over? Will it fall off the mountain? Are we all going to fall off the mountain?"

His frantic eyes found Haru, and he directed his desperate questions at him, "Why did we get such a small cart? Why didn't we get two carts? Why are we climbing up this mountain anyways? What did that guy mean by bad move? Is this cart engineeringly sound? Is it going to break? Is the horse going to go crazy? Is there a hole in the mountain we're going to fall through? Are we going to fall off the mountain!?!"

He was shouting now, and this time at no one in particular, voice high and cracking, "Oh my god, we're all going to die! We're all going to fall off the mountain! We're all going to fall to our deaths! What did he mean by bad move? What's going to happen?!? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO OH MY GOD THIS IS TERRIBLE I HATE THIS I FUCKING HATE THIS WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE AND FALL OFF THE MOUNTAIN WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE AND FALL OFF THE MOUNTAIN OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD GET ME OUT OF HERE GET ME OUT HERE PLEASE JESUS CHRIST GET ME OFF OF THIS FUCKING MOUNTAIN--"

He continued screaming at the top of his lungs, repeating himself over and over, eyes squeezed shut with tears dripping down, his whole body shaking and knuckles so white they might burst from his skin. He would have thrown himself off the cart if he wasn't already terrified that he would end throwing himself off the mountain entirely . A small part of his brain tried to tell him how unreasonable and irrational he was being, but the rest of his brain was too scared shitless to listen.

Xabier had struggled to place himself down to help the wounded monk man amongst all the packed bodies. He head heaved under the pressure of having to share the same smelly air with several others in such close proximity.

One moment everyone had just been quiet and dealing with their own discomfort separately until Harper started to scream. What the hell was wrong with him?

Xabier's body moved before his mind could process what was going. He tripped over someone's leg in his attempt to get over to Harper. On second glance he noticed it was Skylar's leg.
He apologised quickly and continued in his worrying over the yelling boy.

Anything could have happened. Harper must have hurt himself badly with the amount of screaming he was doing.
"Aye! Harper?" English failing in his panic, he bashed his leg on the side of the overcrowded cart. All he could understand was the words "die" and "Jesus Christ". Muerte.... Oh God, had he been focusing on the wrong person the entire time.

"¿Dónde le duele? ¿Qué es el mal?" He called out to Harper. The older lad kept screaming hysterically.
Ah, he remembered that Harper couldn't understand him.
"Where are you hurt?" He asked again in English.
His eyes had lit up considerably in panic.

*where does it hurt?
What is wrong?

With the cramped quarters, the rough road underneath the cart's wheels, the random babbling of the ox-cart driver, the uncomfortable feeling of being touched on all sides (significantly more-so with whoever was burying their head into his shoulder), and hot sun high overhead; Falke had finally fallen into a travel-weary imposed half-slumber. His chin brushed his chest, eyes half lidded against the glint and glare of the sun, and easy breaths parted his lips, hardly a means of lustrous rest but it was something that the past week or more hadn't been graced of plenty with - so any little bit helped, it all honesty.

Falke jolted awake suddenly at Harper's fit of panic and the sudden shift of the person to his left, also being awakened abruptly by the screaming and sobbing out barely coherent words like he was the world's biggest two year-old. His eyes shot open, blearily confused and extremely annoyed. Was his reaction really all that necessary? Of course, he might have been more sympathetic if the person having the panic attack was someone he knew or frankly cared a lick about, and for the most part this seemed like another grab for attention, stealing the show as it would be, or just simply attempting to get his way again (which hadn't worked at all so far, you know), and so he really just did not care.

Good Lord, and Harper kept going - screaming, sobbing, and slobbering at the mouth. Agh. Someone needed to let him just pass out when his brain finally had enough of this panic attack and turned off for a bit itself without babying him through it, or, preferably, someone needed to help him along with a cognitive reset. Bah, who was he kidding? Most of them were to soft to do anything of that sort, and Falke wasn't certain how far away he was in the first place in the confines of the cart itself and his blindness made it more likely he'd hit someone else instead of his intended target. Oh, bloody hell. Something, anything? No...

"Ohk... Halt die Klappe, feiger Hund." Falke muttered in annoyed exasperation, low, under his breath and barely audible. His growling brass of a voice rumbled roughly, clearly not English, but clear enough that he certainty remembered that he really shouldn't be speaking his native tongue or let anyone hear it in a place (or around new strangers) that had never heard of Germany or the Germanic language in the first place.

Falke obviously wouldn't be able to go back to sleep with this commotion, and an hour more of it seemed an unbearable burden to bear; but he would be dammed, if he didn't attempt to try at the very least. He roughly placed his hands on either side of his head, half-covering his eyes and ears at the same time. Pulling up his knees to rest his head back on, as the cart resumed its motion, doing his best to ignore Harper and everything else...

* Oh... Shut up, cowardly dog.

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(ooc: These two riders are just ahead of the group on the cart, and not necessarily right near them. You may be able to spot them riding further ahead on the trail, or you will see them - close enough in person - upon reaching the gates of the Academy. Do with that what you will with that when replying, if your character happens to notice them. Thanks!)

An explosion of sulfurous snarls, intermittent gasps, and wailing cries, barely resembling something human and only that because it made mostly audible words; echoed amongst the mountain ranges like a dreadful song of a dead-man’s failed gambit. Interrupting the quiet, steady purpose of two riders astride their sturdy mounts also making their way up to the Academy, enough that the poor beast the one hooded rider rode chin nearly bruised itself on its own chest as the reins were snatched up in surprise, halting their forward movement abruptly. “By the one,” Came the soft, exasperated hiss of the rider as they released their grip and apologetically patted the top of the rangy, mountain horse‘s withers who snorted roughly and warily in response.

A thin fingered hand escaped the confining folds of the cloak covering the additional long-sleeved flowing dress to pull off the hood their head, revealing a lady with dark golden hair bound in a coiled bun with no signs of age upon her except in the depths of her washed-out, gray-blue eyes. Her already lean and angular face seemed rather pinched as she scowled, as her eyes narrowed as they made an idle attempt of locating the direction of the sound of the apparently ‘dying’ human being somewhere down on the mountain trail(s) below hers’ and her companion’s own position.

“Huh… I wonder why no one’s shut that blubbering idiot up yet. You’d think someone would’ve run something through his throat already, after his innards apparently with that amount of yelling and left the body for the crows. Wouldn’t you say?” The woman mused rather callously to the sufferings of whatever poor individual was currently squeaky screaming his fool head off. Her accent was odd to most Airian standards, and seemed as if she was singing a melody as she wove her words into speech, but able to be understood readily enough. She removed her attention from scanning the mountain side, and glanced back to her companion, as he remarked in turn of the retched cacophony.

A brief moment of mild amusement kindled to life across her fine features, as her teeth flashed in a small grin at her companions’ obviously irritated sarcasm. She hummed softly in agreement to his expressed thoughts, as her hand reached back up to pull the hood back over her head. “We should be at the gates in another 30 minutes or so, come on then.” She stated lightly, and followed her statement by resuming her grip on the reins, clicking her tongue to start the ponies’ movement forward once again up the side of the mountain.

No one was interested in the apple slices he offered, but that just meant he could have it all to himself. The apple was slightly bitter though, so even with surprisingly blessed silence, he didn't enjoy it that much. Maybe Kyle already started getting used to this 'Silent Planet,' or simply considered a quiet Harper peaceful. Being stuck in the cart all the way up this mountain numbed his legs and feet, and he squirmed occasionally just to keep his blood flowing. Squirming was the only way he could do so as it was so crowded, he couldn't change positions easily. He could tolerate that for now, but his peace didn't last.

All hell broke loose when a rider came alongside them, speaking of troubles. Harper had another bloody screaming meltdown, and Kyle automatically lashed out punching him in the gut. Unfortunately, the big baby threw up. At least it was over the side of the cart and luckily didn't hit anyone. Kyle flushed, thinking it was his fault, and withdrew from everyone as far as he could.

When Tallyho climbed over him to get out, Kyle went after her, because he thought he needed to. They were supposed to be a team and all. He still had no idea how that would work with this rabble, but he was willing to try. Because of his numb feet and legs, he stumbled to his knees, wincing, but the boy got up without comment. Neither did he bother looking back to crybaby or anyone, which might not be the best idea, as Gwen was behind them and she was supposed to be part of this team also. Inside the cart, he was too miserable to notice her absence.

The final trek to their destination was painful and tiring, but he thought he should be able to handle it better than Tallyho. She was smaller than him in both height and build, and as far as he knew, she didn't have a habit of mountain climbing. He stayed behind her for the most part and helped her up if she stumbled, even if she acted grumpy about it. Considering his aggressive reaction to Harper, one might be surprised at his gentle handling of angry or irritable girls.

Eventually they came to a gate, and he smiled at the sight. "Finally," the boy rasped. Temporarily he also forgot what they were here for. With a sudden surge of energy, he raced through the gate as soon as the old man opened it. Kyle paused to admire the scenery and then the two ladies met them. He started as the fancy dressed one came forward. She smiled and called them month warriors. Didn't Haru say nobody was supposed to know that yet? He rubbed his neck, and looked back to the group in the cart. He noted idiot Harper passing out, and the ladies moving to help both him and the injured man.

Turning back to Tallyho, he thought she would be tired and asked, "Would you like to sit down for a while?" If she answered in the positive, he would help her sit somewhere away from the stinkberries and possibly closer to the fountain. If she answered in the negative, well he'd still try to help her away from the stinkberries, if nothing else.

After Tallyho was settled, he asked the two ladies, "Do you need help?"