Skylar Grayson's Story

Falke shifted his grip on the rucksack slung over his shoulder, to relieve the slight irritated tension the cord had been slightly cutting into his muscle and bone uncomfortably. His eyes floated blearily about, taking note of the confining crowd swirling about him and not keen on the situation one bit. He wasn't quite able to shake off the feeling that he really didn't belong here, stuck out like a sore thumb, and someone could quite possibly notice something. He just wanted to get this shopping over with, some dinner and resting in the inn afterward away from unwanted eyes and some quiet time (he could hope) sounded absolutely wonderful...

“So fellas. What would you like to get first?”

Falke was disgusted. Primarily from listening to the kid in a candy store after Haru's question – bouncing and waving his arms about like a fool, like he was some fruit-crazed explorer – and another boy of the group saying let’s go this way and explore the shops that a’way. But his rapidly fading normally stoic nature that left his emotions begin to be seen plain as day in a twitch of his lips or at the crease of his eyes because of lack of sleep and hunger, and the headache and minor sunburn across his fair cheeks from a minor case of heat stroke he suspected from the ride here; could both have been affecting his current mood in turn. All the same, however, he was just plain really, really done. “Unless someone has a better idea..." As a matter of fact, he did – he had priorities. First and foremost was getting home, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon because destiny and a ket-man was busy kidnapping him you know; so secondly, he was worried about surviving in this alien world until he could get home – whether it be killing that cyclo-whatever monster king or being able to return to the inn without something blowing up in his face like the recent and not so fond memory of the tavern the night before, surviving was a definite priority.

“Clozes,” The growling brass of his heavily accented voice surprised Falke with its roughness and rather lack of attempt to sound out more proper English sounds to the word he spoke, causing him to momentarily pause – licking his bottom lick idly, in an attempt to hide the faintly annoyed tick at the corner of his mouth. Yes, it was a given that he would certainly mess up because it wasn't his first or natural language: he was already going out of his comfort zone – despite his normally reserved, quiet self that value observing and listening much more than talking – speaking up and talking to them; but in turn he was tired, hungry, etc – and he just really didn’t care to be proper right now, just bloody give him a break. “Trrried foot, somezing forr vater, awnd hygiene… Ten beck to ze inn?” He finished his list short, sweet, and to the point. He really didn’t care to be lollygagging more than what was necessary, clearly. He had directed the question at the end to Haru, more so as a means of gauging that his list was complete enough for their current needs (minus some of them, not himself thank you, wanting to have an “adventure” by exploring) by his approval or disapproval; and honestly the faster that they got moving to grab things by Haru’s leading them through this maddeningly busy marketplace, the faster they got back to the inn surviving out of harm’s way relatively.

*Clothes,
*Dried food, something for water, and hygiene... Then back to the inn?

Tooth leaves? Autumn shook her head. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of them. But we clean our teeth with tooth brushes and toothpaste.” Still, she gave the coins to Tallyho. It was odd, though. The girl seemed really uncomfortable. The scarf, refusing to look people in the eye, it was worrying. Maybe she didn’t want to be seen? It certainly raised questions. What was she so worried about? These weren’t really things to ask in a public space, so Autumn took the leaves and didn’t question it.

Her stomach, which had been growling for a while now, made an even more painful protest as food was mentioned. “Yeah, food seems like the best place to go next.”

Tallyho hummed at Skylar’s question. Something that can still be eaten past its expiration would have been nice. Items with milk and fruit probably wouldn’t have been good ideas.

“Bread. Bread and nuts. Maybe small dried fruits?” She readjusted the sack’s strap on her shoulder. Unfortunately all of that food sounded incredibly boring. Tallyho might have been small, but she preferred real food, like meat.

Lux asked where they should go next, and Tallyho told her that they would get food. After all, most of them seemed to want it.

“It is primarily found on the other side of the market, though,” she said, “along with the clothes.”

And so that’s where she led them—a straight cut through the center of the market where a small clearing area was set up for public entertainment. Tallyho froze when she heard the familiar pluck of an instrument that to earthlings might have likened to a sitar. She groaned slightly, and soon the harmonious tones of women and the tinks of bells joined into to create a lively song laden with foreign, melodic lyrics. The February warrior made sure that her hair was tucked back farther into her scarf, and then she turned to the others.
“Alright. So a bunch of women might come prancing towards you, beckoning for you to watch the performance and offer tips. Don’t do it. In fact, don’t make eye contact. Just stay close to me, and stay on the outskirts of the performance area.”

Without offering any more of an explanation, Tallyho bounded off. Cautious of where she was stepping.

The song grew louder and the girls could begin to make out the stage area where dozens of women danced and sang in long flowing skirts, bandeaus, and dresses that were jagged from weathering. Bells were firmly tied to their ankles, and floral crowns adorned their heads. Though they looked poor, they were still swelling with joy as they sang, and they even held and air of grace. Their curls bounced as they sung, and made yellow shimmers in the sunlight.

Men accompanied them, though they did not dance. They wore white cotton blouses and harem pants stained with reds and purples. They plucked away at their instruments, some playing lutes or “sitars”, and others pounding away at animal skin drums. Leis laced of the same flowers the women wore adorned their necks, but they were hard to see for they all wore their hair long and their heads were bowed low in musical passion, golden curls making curtains around their necks and faces.

If all went according to plan, the group of girls managed to make it past the concert without being disturbed. Tallyho sighed as the flung herself to the nearest clothing stand, her face flushed with relief.

“By something comfortable,” she said, “and let’s move on.”


Still pleased with the group’s reaction to his coat, Haru blinked at Jason’s not so helpful answer. To be honest, he pointed too quickly for Haru to pay enough attention to what he was pointing at. The only thing he could put his finger on were the tooth leaves.
“Oh right, we will get those. I mean, unless you’re okay with rotting teeth.”

Then Kyle suggested that they just wandered around.

“While a leisurely day in the market seems nice, I would really like to know about a few things that you can’t live without so that we can get them as soon as possible.”

Then Falke spoke. Haru raised his eyebrows, trying to decipher what he had said. Honestly, most, if not all of the guardians understood a wide array of languages across Earth and Aires. After all, they had all of the free time to learn them. But Haru hadn’t used German since 1988, and quite frankly he was more than a little rusty, even when hearing the accents in English. Although Falke was trying hard. After taking a moment to get his message straight, Haru wholeheartedly agreed. He had the right idea.

“Okay, dried food, water, clothes, hygiene. Okay, nothing special there. We can do that.”

Then there was the voice. Not a voice, but the voice.

Haru turned to see its owner.

“Ryou,” he hummed. Dorian was then pulled into the picture, beat up just as bad as the cat guardian had expected.

“Well medical supplies should definitely go on the list. Where’d you find your…sheep?” he asked as planted a firm hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Apparently Ryou didn’t feel like answering, because Haru was soon taken into a bro hug, which, he didn’t really want to be in at the moment, and desperately tried to pry himself out of.

Then Harper began to ask his questions.

“Yes, he’s a guardian. Ryou Zerinn guardian of March, aka Dorian. His animal is the monkey and he is the esteemed founder of a training academy located in the mountain range east.”

Haru wasn’t really in the mood to deal with Harper for extended amounts of time so his explanation was rather quick and snappy. The only useful thing Harper contributed to the journey was the suggestion to purchase temporary knives until they made it to the mound. Haru silently took note of it.

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

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

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

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

(Read my OOC post~)

Tallyho nodded to Autumn.

“I’m fine,” she hummed.

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

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

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

Haru nodded to the girls as they approached.

“So everyone is set?”

Tallyho nodded.

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

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

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

-x-

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

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The past week dwelt somewhere in between miserable and not terrible. Harper had experienced worse. And it was more the mind-numbing boredom of travelling and being forced to follow orders by the hoity-toityness that was Haru. Ryou wasn't so bad, with the "Don't Give a Shit" attitude something he could relate to, but he could still be pushy. At least Harper thought so. Still, he wasn't such a stick-in-the-ass like Haru.

To help quell off the boredom, and to make up for the fact that apparently this god-forsaken place didn't have anything mechanical, Harper had carved his own gears out of the chair. When he wasn't yukking it up with someone or making fun of everyone, Harper would spend hours on the horse, carving and chiseling and cursing at the wood. Many times the piece he'd be working on would break, and he had lost count how many splinters he'd received. Sanding was the worst.

Yet, by the fourth day he'd finished carving all the necessary gears, and just as they arrived at the gate, he'd finally put all of them together, fashioning a wooden horse (what with so much exposure to the large animals, it didn't take him long to figure out how they moved) out of the makeshift mechanical parts. He had barely put the last piece on when he heard his name.

"Eh?!" he asked, prairie-dogging his head up, and a small book was shoved into his hand befor he was shuffled through the gate. Stuffing the book and the horse into his pockets, he looked around at his surroundings with wide-eyes, so engrossed in putting together the horse earlier that the camp, which was visible from a considerable distance, looked completely novel to him. He hurried his pace up to match Haru's, not wanting to get lost in this somewhat unfriendly looking place...like a ghetto...what did Haru say about this camp again? He had been too zoned out to pay attention.

Kyle started whining about fighting, and Harper laughed, his previous woes about his surroundings vanishing, "That's one-up you've got on me," he told the kid, "I've never won a fistfight." Growing bored again, he roamed his eyes around for Skylar. The two had bonded pretty well in the past week, and she seemed to be the only person who would willingly talk to him because she wanted to, and not just out of politeness.

Spotting her, he hunched over and started stalking towards her, snapping his fingers and whistling the Jets theme from West Side Story. "Pow!" he shouted with a grin as he whipped the horse out of his pocket, pointing it towards her. With a laugh he straightened up. "Ah, if only the world worked like a musical...then I could aggressively dance my problems away. Anyways, check out the horse I made!" he handed her the wooden animal gingerly, hoping all the little wooden parts would stick together. "Told you I'd turn all those wood chips into something! Only problem now is figuring out how to make the legs work."

Some of the other warriors didn’t seem very adamant about helping to set up camp. Tallyho—wanting to get the dirty work done, stuck to following Haru and Ryou around. Completing any duties they needed done: holding up tent spines, hammering down stakes. The end products were a little crude, but they looked like they could hold up for a few days.

Haru took a seat behind one of the tents and dug through his coat pockets for a lighter and a carton of cigarettes—both instruments clearly being from earth. The redhead hunched over as he lit this treat. The sudden burst of warmth bringing a brief pleasure. Haru hadn’t really thought much about what other Arian’s thought of his earthly addiction. As long as they didn’t see his lighter he was fine—and besides—it wasn’t uncommon for locals to find a bunch of herbs, wrap them in rice paper, and light them up with wooden matches. So as far as his cigarettes were concerned, the other Airans could just mistake them for very expensive smokes.

Because they were pretty much settled in for the night, Tallyho decided that she would have a walk. The stress of travelling in a large group really took a toll on her. If she were able to handle it, she would have continued leading the life she led years before.
Without much of a warning, she began a slow meander to the forest boxed in at the outskirts of the camp. She figured that she would end her walk once she reached the conservation barriers then turn around. After all, from an aerial view, the natives were only allowed a limited amount of green space, so she hadn’t expected her walk to last for too long.

Haru was very right about the propositions she received from the natives. But she was prepared—bowing her head at every witch doctor’s promise, turning her back on any woman with suckling baby sashed across her chest and a plea for freedom. And though she fully empathized with their anxieties of being restrained in a gross captivity, she couldn’t allow herself to fall into any ultimately misfortunate adventures. When she finally reached the forest area, it was a breath of fresh air—quite literally. The scent of burning sage left her nostrils, and her senses were accosted by the essence of green.

What was green?

Visions of wild ivy laced with elderberry. The scent of freshly watered forest and warm black dirt. An overwhelming humidity that dampened the blonde’s skin until she felt dewy from the outside in.

She slipped off her newly purchased sandals and braced her toes in the soil. The pricks of fallen twigs did not evoke pain, but an open admiration for natural texture. This was what Tallyho liked. She continued on, creating a path that dwindled between oak and stump alike, enjoying the growing quiet. The birds were saying their final goodbyes before disappearing for rest. The February warrior was left with nothing but the wheezes of her rising chest. She found a resting place by way of a large, mossy boulder and strewed herself onto it like a dress out to dry—back falling into a comfortable arc. With her belly towards the rising moon she began to breathe, allowing the air to run its course through her lungs. From hot breath came the stress of the past week.

After moments spent relaxing, the blonde decided to make her trip back to the camp. There was a buzzing in her body. A buzzing that made her feel like her knee caps were exploding with static—that her legs were going to give out like those of a doe shot dead. She bent over and ran firm palms down her shins—a furious massage until the pain subsided. She continued walking soon however, vaguely aware of the leaf crunching going on a distance away. She hadn’t wanted any wild animal encounters and she feared that it was a wolf. When she made it out of the brush the same stinging sensation ran through her legs once more. She wondered if she had been bitten by a snake but she saw no marks. Ignoring it for the moment, the girl made her way back to the camp where she found Haru fumbling over a campfire, a slight limp trespassing on the usual swagger of his walk.

“What happened to you?” Tallyho asked as she approached from the side.

“Lumber on my foot,” the redhead grunted. He hadn’t expanded on it, not really being one to complain about physical ailments so early in the game. He had to set an example—if he could keep quiet with a busted foot, then the warriors could stand to walk a mile without complaining.

“What are we—“

“Chicken.”

Tallyho raised her brow and looked away. Obviously the cat guardian wasn’t in a talking mood so she wondered where the other warriors spent their time. She noticed that they seemed to be breaking off into little social circles over the course of the week, and while she could have argued that she felt left out, she wasn’t very positive that they would care all that much. The friendships seemed superficial to her anyway, friendship was superficial, she didn’t need it, “I don’t need it,” she hummed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“First chicken’s ready,” Haru yelled—a summon for the group to come eat.

Skylar had never been so tired in her entire life.

Time was no longer of any importance to her. While she used to plan her days out down to the minute, her only perception of time now was when Haru woke them up for the day and then stopped them to set up camp for the night. The mornings stretched directly into night, the days seeming to pass in an unpleasant blur.

It wasn’t all bad though. Despite the dark circles rimming her eyes and her slightly sunburnt skin, she was slowly getting used to her new life. Although riding all day had made her more prone to waddling around rather than walking, she could feel the muscles in her legs toning up and was more confident riding than she had been on the first day.

Haru’s announcement was like the light at the end of the tunnel. Sure, he would still probably work them to the bone but anything was better than the monotonous traveling they’d been doing all week.

Prove themselves? Skylar could feel herself starting to get anxious already, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She was glad that Kyle seemed to be more vocal about his worries, feeling slightly relieved that she wasn’t the only one freaked out over the thought of having to put on a show that would ultimately decide her fate. She’d never let anyone know though, worrying and fear were signs of weakness and were to be kept hidden- so she’d been told.

She didn’t have time to think about it for long, the guard calling out her name before thrusting the small leather booklet into her hands.

Skylar didn’t even have a passport back home- she’d never needed one. Aside from going to school in New York, she’d never been outside of Florida, much less the United States. Figures that this would be the reason for her finally getting one. She flipped through the book, stopping at the page the guard had just stamped. Her fingers finger brushed against the wax seal, as she took in the intricate design.

The sound of Harper’s voice jolted her from her thoughts, her head snapping up from the book. After the initial shock of getting to Aires and the bar fight and whatnot, he really wasn’t so bad. Sure, maybe he didn’t have a filter and could come up with a snarky response for every occasion but she was used to it- growing up in a mostly testosterone filled home had taught her that much, toughening her up and giving her a sarcastic sense of humor as well. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it she did find some of his jokes pretty funny.

“You know, your comment about wishing your life was a musical practically begs for a snarky response but this horse is so nice that I’ll let it slide this time. I'm impressed,” She said with a smirk, carefully taking the horse from him. “But we should probably go help Haru before he gets mad and potentially claws our eyeballs out. Also I think I heard him say something about a chicken?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


*mira aquí - look here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Skylar picked at her chicken, slightly oblivious to everything else going on. It really wasn’t that bad, definitely better than nothing. Besides, after all the travelling they’d done she was so hungry that she’d gladly eat her own shoes.

She finished eating, looking up only to find that most of the others had wandered away from the fire. Not really in the mood for socializing, she stretched out, tilting her head back to look up at the stars for a moment before going back to the tents.

It was a weird feeling, looking up at the sky. No matter where you were, you always saw the same moon and stars. And yet even so, they were just a tiny little part of the universe. It was incredible, really.

She sat up again, starting to a feel a little homesick- for both Florida and New York. All this alone time was giving her too many opportunities to think about things, and she wasn’t too fond of it. Getting up before she could think about it any further, she decided that it was probably best to head to bed. Walking towards the tents, she crawled in before making a spot for herself in one of the back corners.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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