Tallyho Abel's Story

True to his word, after waking in the morning, Dorian was pointedly mum on the subject of the night before, brushing that unwelcome and unpleasant memory under the proverbial rug in the company of so many other distressing thoughts that had been given the same treatment as of late. He soldiered on from there, one day during into two into three and so on until a week had passed, all of the days blurring together into a disorienting haze of structured monotony. In that way, he reflected, it was all very much like school if he was never allowed to leave and instead of learning about cosines, the periodic table, World War I, and how to accurately play Bach's Cello Suites, he was learning about Aires and how to survive on it. A lesson, of course, that he could have used a long, long time ago. If he'd known now what he'd known before, if he'd been as fit as he was now, if he'd known Aires, if he'd known how to survive...

Few things broke the exhausting tedium of lessons and painful training, but, as with anything, there tends to be exceptions to the rule. In this case, the introduction of meditation in the daily regimen. For most it was a welcome sort of break, a moment to relax and breathe and let themselves fall into a zen-like state of harmony. For others it was a way to connect with their ever promised powers, to find the ability deep within themselves to alter the world around them in some way, shape, or form. It should have been a task easy enough for Dorian given his relatively calm and quiet nature, but instead he found himself struggling viciously with meditation. For all of his stern and mild behavior, his mind was in a tumult, swirling and twisting around ideas and notions that would not leave him be. Clearing his mind, for the most part, was becoming an implausible task because, quite honestly and to throw in a simile that would meet his English teacher's approval, he felt like a boat without anchor, awash in an angry ocean, battered by waves on all sides in the form of exercises, his supposed group, and the situation that threatened to drown him. There was nothing to cling to apart from his long dead cellphone, the last of its battery life used up before he'd even found the Month Warriors again to provide a meager flashlight to fight off the darkness, and his watch that still cheerfully ticked away even if the time shown by the little hands didn't quite match with the foreign Airian days, but he'd never had the heart to go about changing the time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How do you meditate?" For all of his trouble with the exercise, Dorian decided that the first person he should go to- after an unsuccessful discussion with Haru at the beginning of all of this- was Ryou. When he realized that Ryou was almost always perpetually teaching lessons or otherwise occupied with his Academy job(which was his actual and very real excuse for being too busy to see them for the beginning of their stay at the Academy), he'd gone to Dae, one of the friendlier elites. He was always eager to assist anyone and everyone, even if, like in this situation, it was a little out of his depth.

"Personally?" He nodded.

"Alright, give us a second. I've never had to talk serenity before. Not my usual cup of tea. Let's see… Well, I kind of just start focusing on one thing- like, not a thought, really. Usually something physical, like I keep my hand on my sword or I focus on the grass I'm sitting on, yeah? Then I just really focus on that and everything else kind of just… melts away. Sorry, does that help?"

"I'm not sure."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Just give it a shot. Tell us how it goes, alright?" Dorian took some heart from the knight's crooked grin and, on his next meditation attempt, tried to put the practice into motion. He focused on anything he felt- the soil under his hands, the slightly rough texture of his clothes against his skin, the bracelet hanging ever heavy on his wrist… But to no avail. His mind simply wandered off to other things again, leaving him in the same position as before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The field trips, however, were more pleasant than his mild attempts to calm the flurry of thoughts dancing around in his mind. He felt quite silly, of course, standing near mountain peaks, the sharp wind washing over him and the air thinner than he was accustomed to, waiting for something to click, something to happen. It was made all the more embarrassing my Haru's constant but encouraging presence in these little journeys, like he was waiting for something. Dorian had half a mind to remind him- to remind everyone- that they'd been the ones to call him the March Month Warrior- he'd personally never proclaimed to be anything less or anything more than Dorian Roberts. Still, the little trips weren't unpleasant and were actually, between all of the activities in his very busy day, quite enjoyable for what they were. There was something soothing about it, standing high up on the mountain and focusing on something quite tangible like the wind threatening to tip him over. It was, however, fortunate that he hadn't discovered his apparent proclivity for heights and windy days back in New York where it was far easier to find tall rooftops to linger on- knowing his neighbors, they'd probably have made a scene about it, asking him not to jump even if he calmly mentioned that he had no intention to do so, which would have been funny at first but then would probably devolve into pure annoyance for everyone involved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How do I meditate?' Liam had been Dorian's next choice, more due to the magician's generally easy accessibility given the fact that if one found Dae Grimm, they found Liam Valentine. The cloaked man seemed more intrigued by the idea of explaining meditation than his more action oriented counterpart, but Dorian was still rather hesitant to approach him. For all of his grace and elegance, there was something off-putting about a man who fought with a black, glowing energy and who seemed to take pleasure in the morbid things in life.

"Yes."

"Well, March Warrior, I personally like to focus on my energy and the way it connects with the world around me. I find it quite soothing to be interconnected with the rest of the world. Perhaps you could try concentrating on your wind powers?" Dorian, as it were, wasn't quite sure how he felt about someone like Liam being actively part of the world's energy flow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One week bled into two, into three before life shifted and changed again and, unlike his unsuccessful attempts at meditation or his field trips that brought him further and further up the mountain, this was not a welcome change. Of course everyone was nervous about facing their monstrous enemy within the cage- nowhere to run, nowhere to hide- but he wasn't quite sure how much of that was a primal sort of terror where you should be terrified of giant monsters on principle and how much was a learned sort of fear in a 'Dear God that's a Cyclopean' as opposed to a 'Dear God that's a giant monster' sort of way. He tended to fall in the latter category of fear, which should be no surprise. In the three years that followed, he eventually had his chance to tell his story of where he'd been off to before Ryou found him and brought him back to the group. For the other Month Warriors, they'd been on Aires for too days; Dorian, on the other hand, had been there for at least two months. Two months not knowing where he was. Two months struggling to survive in the wild without any practical survival skills. Two months of- and this was the big one aside from the soul crushing loneliness and despair that clung to him still- Cyclopean sightings.

He'd never killed one past that first one in Central Park, but he knew the fear that came along with them now, had outrun them, sometimes nearly unsuccessfully as the scars littering his body now showed, hidden from them, seen what they could do when it came to not only animals but humans as well. So, yes, there was an element of primal fear there too, but glancing at the monsters brought up memories that could not be so easily quashed. It might have been a small one, but a small Cyclopean was still terrifying when you'd seen what they could do. It came back then, those feelings from before, before he'd been found. The soul-crushing loneliness, the fear of abandonment, the wondering if he would starve to death or not. If he'd never see a familiar face again and die just like that. Alone.

He went last, ushered into the cage and wishing desperately that a) no one would watch him and b) after all of the other Month Warriors, Haru would decide that that was enough for one day and send him on his way to fake meditate again. It was not to be so. The door clanged shut behind him and he was left with his quickly escaping wits and the still rusted battle-axe held in a painfully tight grip. His heart was racing now, pounding in his ears and adding a percussive sort of melody to the other sounds that filled the cage, a macabre sort of music blending his short, gasping breaths with the almost reptilian snarl of the Cyclopean advancing, his heart beat keeping tempo all the while. There were other noises, people outside the cage- but this was more of a duet than an orchestra and he couldn't focus on them because his opponent had sensed fear, sensed weakness and was moving faster now. The tempo sped up, the breathing escalated, the roar blared into the air. Then there was nothing but silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Meditation?" Mori had come third in line if only because he preferred to be hidden away in the library as opposed to gallivanting around the campus with the rest of the students, Elite or not. As young as he was, the Month Warriors had quickly seen how his own well of knowledge dwarfed most adults, even if he did tend to be dreadfully haughty about it. It was a photographic memory mixed with good deductive and inductive skills, and a strategist's mind.

"How do you do it?" Mori paused a moment before taking pity on Dorian(who didn't know how he felt about a child pitying him).

"It probably won't help you," He admitted after a moment, shutting his book. "But I like to… listen. To whatever's around me. I concentrate on one thing- a bird song for instance- and then try to remember all that I've learned about birds. I get lost in the information. Sometimes meditation isn't about clearing your mind- it's about finding your center. I happen to have a very loud center."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dorian! Dorian!" The noise cut through the pre determined silence and Dorian blinked, eyelashes fluttering in a confused sort of way. The silence vanished as suddenly as it had appeared and he knew the situation once more. It was eerily similar, black blood staining his body, labored breathing, hands squeezing around his weapon in a death grip, which, like him, was saturated in foreign blood. Dark onyx shards littered the ground, not in a pile, but spread about in a haphazard sort of way, all around the cage. And then there was Ryou, standing in front of him, hands raised in a peace offering, golden eyes for once without a jolly twinkle. Now there was just concern as the Guardian took the axe from his trembling hands, struggling only slightly to get him to relinquish his grip. Then warm arms wrapped around him and it was only then that Dorian realized the wet on his face wasn't just blood, but hot tears that cascaded down his cheeks. The labored breathing was sobs as much as him being out of breath and, instead of pulling back, slipping his mask back on, he fell into the comforting hold.

He, as Ryou recounted to him an hour later after ushering him to Ryou's own rooms to give him a little privacy, had hacked the Cyclopean to pieces, which accounted for the onyx shards scattering everywhere and the copious amounts of blood as well. Dorian had for the next two hours, stayed there and it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A singular outburst of emotion that had been welling up within him for quite some time until he'd destroyed a creature that had tried to do him in, just like the rest of the elements he'd encountered before Ryou. The March Guardian stayed with him, seated next to him, rubbing soothing circles in his back and when the touch became too much, just shared his presence.

In that time, he meditated. His first successful attempt. He didn't focus on the bed beneath him to find a physical connection, he didn't concentrate on the slight breeze brushing in from the window, cooling the room, and he didn't focus on the noises from outside or within the room itself. Instead, he let himself think about today, about the emotions that had finally boiled over, and accepted those. He, as Mori had recommended, had found his center. So. This was why Haru had recommended meditation because, honestly, it felt fantastic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life began again and time marched forward after that day, as it tended to do, ignoring the meltdown as a slight blip on the cosmic timeline. Dorian soldiered on and felt, while not completely okay with the situation, better. Armed with the tools provided -meditation, quiet hikes up the mountain, alone or together with others- it was easier to continue on. He grew stronger, physically and he hoped mentally, even if he never went, as he'd secretly dubbed it "full Narnian", so named after the books he'd read as a child(and as an adult. No judge) and the children's desire to leave their own world behind to enjoy a world where magic was real and they were incredibly important. He still longed for Earth, his home, his father, but he could function around it now. It helped to keep busy. It also helped to find lifelines in the form of the other Warriors, even if he quite sure they didn't understand his way of thought.

Take for instance Tallyho, who'd risen from the category of "practical girl with common sense and no real drama" to the title of one of Dorian's closest, if not his closest, friend. She didn't understand his longing for Earth, for a single place in a single city, but she didn't have to to make their friendship work. It had begun, really, by her giving him the best gift he'd ever been given- electricity. It had been an accident, of course it had been, but a single shock had given life to his cellphone again, giving him access to all of the things from Earth he needed as a reminder of who he was back there, back then. Videos of his father and friends, his music, his photos- all a single touch away now with Tallyho's help. He hadn't been able to tell her how grateful he had been, so, instead, he'd offered to show it to her. Not the private things that he knew only held meaning to him- he was never one to inflict his own interest on people- but the things he knew she'd find fascinating.

They'd settled on art, a collection of paintings and drawing that cluttered his phone's memory, some from past projects at LaGuardia when he'd taken art history, others from museum trips, and still others that he simply found fascinating and had squirreled away in his phone's memory. Tallyho had shared the fascination and that was where their relationship truly began, stories woven of artists he'd never met and one or two that he'd had, tidbits of information or long biographies. It was a bonding point, of course, turned into the occasional quiz game where he'd simply show her a picture or spout off a name and have her fill the in the gaps. It was where their relationship had begun, but not where it ended as gratefulness on his part and curiosity on hers shifted to a real friendship with all the trimmings. Meal together, meditation side by side, the odd walk in the woods, and training during storms where electricity charged the air and the wind battered them.

Their friendship didn't surprise him, not like some of the others that had appeared before him. Harper was, of course, the most shocking of all. It had begun with a cello, just like Dorian's relationship with Sadie had, on the day of his mental break. At first, he'd expected another one-sided shouting match when Harper had asked him to visit after dinner, or another grilling session that he was most certainly not up to. Instead, he'd been presented with a sort of cello, bow and all. Harper had almost looked nervous when presenting the instrument- not quite a cello, but the closest thing he'd seen to it on Aires. That instantly made him move towards it, pulling the bow across the strings. Well, he'd realized when an awful noise resounded, it may look like a cello, but it wasn't. He'd seen the disappointment in Harper's gaze, probably mimicked in Dorian's own, so he'd made suggestions.

They'd met for a month, a forced and awkward relationship moving to small talk and idle chatter as the cello improved. Until, that is, the day it finally sang. It sang and sang and sang until Dorian's wrist ached from lack of practice and then, breaking the comfortable silence, Harper's quiet apology mixed with such an honest adoration for Sadie that Dorian did his best to forgive if not forget their past arguments. He's simply placed a hand on Harper's shoulder, squeezed, and thanked him, not just for the cello, but for being a good brother, no matter what he'd thought, to Sadie. Their relationship continued from there, filled with music and actually pleasant words, and a bond forged by a girl they both knew.

Other relationships fell into place as the years flew by- Autumn had weaseled her way into Dorian's life, something he reluctantly accepted at first until it became a given. She was a sweet girl- kind, peppy, but slightly insecure and he strove to help her when he could, offering an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on. She was like the sister he'd never had, except less obnoxious, he assumed, than actual siblings even if she could be a little irritating with her apparently endless cheer and the many, many tarot readings he'd had inflicted on him. Still, he liked her, a sunshine like presence so contrary to her own powers.

There was Skylar too, a comfortable sort of friendship forged from intersecting friend groups. Kyle, on occasion, as the two were neither good friends nor enemies, just something normal, like a classmate you worked on projects with. Falke was a reassuringly sane presence in the midst of the insane Academy, although neither were particularly close. Lux he knew mostly from Autumn, a stubborn but motivated girl. Gwen, who he'd never managed to connect with but who he was glad to see had filled out in a healthy way and no longer seemed to be going for every authority figure's throat. Xabier was- well, Dorian had no idea because the other boy seemed to find his presence as welcoming as, well, a Karma's- something to be endured but not liked. Dorian didn't find that he cared all that much. They were all decent people, he supposed, but he never let himself get too complacent. His goal was to help save Aires, however that may be accomplished, then go home, a thought that he dwelled on only by himself.

Then there was the Academy students as well. He attended classes more often than not and enjoyed all of the lessons for the most part. Ji Na was an incredibly intellect, wise but still somehow distant, slightly unobtainable for all of her gentle friendliness. Her friend and comrade Ben was similarly a distant sort of thing, meant to be admired and respected but not exactly connected with. Dae was a more friendly and open presence, helping with the physical aspects of training and still never beaten in hand-to-hand combat("Don't expect you to win. You may be Month Warriors and have powers, but I've been doing this for ages. Don't disrespect the normals, yeah?" he'd noted cheekily once after knocking Dorian to the ground with a swift roundhouse kick) and generally flitting about the Academy, offering help and a good laugh where he could. Liam was more distant, just as off as Ji Na or Ben, but his sheer proximity to Dae made him seem more approachable. He was slightly terrifying with a delight for the macabre and eerily, eerily calm. Still, his magic was something to be admired and he was incredibly patient when one had questions. Mori was, well, Mori, slowly entering the realms of being a pre-teen, dragged there kicking and screaming, of course. He was disturbingly intelligent, helping with fact-based classes like Airian history, and he described events and ideas in such detail that you almost had to understand. He was a bit of a brat- not nearly as bad as Karma- but it was nice to see a kid being a kid, especially when he demanded that Dae carry him around campus or when he blew raspberries at particularly rude students. Ryou was in a league of his own, taking a more hands on approach with all of them, but carefully reserving a sort of centering time for Dorian to focus on March related things. He was his savior, after all, rescuing him from months in the wilderness, and Dorian had never forgotten that or his wonderfully kind behavior towards him post meltdown.

People change as you get to know them, relationships change when you're thrown together, and you change by what impacts you and what you go through. Dorian had grown stronger, physically and mentally, his axe now like an extension of his arm than an imprecise weapon to be seen only wielded in Lord of the Rings. It arced through the air now as he finished training for the day, shards of onyx littering to the ground, never quite as gruesome as kill number one in New York or kill number two on Aires. He, for once, escaped it without any blood spatters despite his weapon being one of the messier ones, and skipped the fountain everyone else seemed to linger at. He was starving, after all, given the intense work outs both mental and physical that he put himself through for the sake of training.

He came in at the tail end of the conversation about the hangings- they had been big news for everyone in the Academy because, yes, there had been people who'd claimed to be Month Warriors in the past, according to Dae, but never when the Academy students knew actual Month Warriors to actually exist. He nodded a mixed hello and goodbye to Ji Na as they passed and settled at the table with Falke and Tallyho, going for his own meal, now more substantial and delicious than the basics they'd been provided with in the beginning.

"You guys doing alright?" He greeted, automatically passing his bowl of Banya towards Tallyho. It wasn't that he disliked to fruit, it just wasn't his favorite and Tallyho enjoyed it far more.

Meals here hadn’t been the quiet affairs he’d once been used to, where the participants seeming adhered to the unspoken rule of Eat Now, Talk Later. Most of the tables included a number of chatters about Academy life and the outer world going on with a near constant murmuring filling the air. It was something he’d still hadn’t quite gotten used to, but managed well enough to ignore and accept what was for the most part.

Tallyho had the preferred concept grasped, or just happened to eat her food quickly enough to avoid talking until the food was cleared from her plate or bowl; one of the few reasons, he preferred to sit at her table than anyone else’s.
Today was a bowl of fine beef stew, sided with fresh, soft bread, and another small bowl of banya slices in it. Banya was an oddity of Airian food or spice that Falke truly liked and enjoyed. He’d been born with a sweet tooth, but generally reserved to having it only at certain gatherings or the rare treat in the mornings. Here, at least, the fruit and the edible flowers were a strictly seasonal item, which was a good thing he thought.

Falke spilt a roll, and began placing a few of the fruit slices in it; an attempt at a strudel, or perhaps Rote grutze with bread instead of cream or milk. Before promptly shoving the rest of his meager portion of banya left over to Tallyho, almost knowingly that she had aimed her fork at the bowl suggesting that if he didn’t want it – she’d would take it. It wasn’t that he wanted to give it up, but a life-time of watching the sweets he consumed and when had given him the knowledge that it was always best not to have too many so later on in the day. He ate slowly his ‘sandwich’ of a sort, before moving unto the stew – ignoring all of the carrots, cooked they were rubbish, and focusing on the beef and broth.

Ji Na was something of a usual sight to see from time to time, leaving the elite table to eat and talk amongst the month warriors. Falke saw her more of a teacher to respect, not a friend per say, but didn’t mind when she came to eat with a more or less silent, graceful presence. She spoke first to Tallyho, before asking him, ”That’s fantastic. And you?” He swallowed his current, small bite, as he looked up to glance in her direction, sort-of. “Vell enough.” He answered, simply but polite.

"Did you hear about the hangings?"

Falke stared. Not in a way designed to be particularly rude, but in an unabashed, piercing, inquisitive way that made you wonder if you have food on your face or your skirt is tucked into your underpants. Yes, he heard about the hangings. More so directly from Tallyho, who eventually responded to Ji Na after a long silence, and others of the month warrior crew. Falke heard many things as for some reason, being blind (not deaf mind you) lead some people to not guard their words as heavily around him, or he was so silent most of the time that no one outright noticed him right off the bat. But, he hadn’t heard about it, until that morning.

He finished his meal, listening to Ji Na and Tallyho’s continued conversation with care, filing away information but adding little to nothing to the conversation per usual. Pampering to no end would be fine he supposed, but that was only when they when approved by the Harbinger – and that was only after some unknown task they were asked to do, that they were constantly assured that it wouldn’t be a problem. No, a problem for fanatics that got themselves hung trying; but something ‘easy’ for them. Right. Humm…

“We'll good luck, and good day!"
"You guys doing alright?"

As Ji Na departed, Falke gave her a friendly, goodbye tilt of his head; and Dorian took her place at the table. It seemed he wasn’t going to have a chatter free evening after all. No matter. Dorian was likeable enough, and he didn’t talk much usually, fei, whatever. “Fine.” He hummed in answer, softly. Resisting the urge to shrug with his shoulders, something he saw as a means of expressing the body language that he was fine, he was still alive, so alright, yes, he supposed. But it often got confused with a lack of care, which he didn't often mean (if he did, well, he wouldn't have answered in the first place); but he kept himself in check. He grasped his cup of water, taking a quick sip to wash down the remains of the meal, with its cool, mineral textured, liquid.

...

After dinner, free-time was available to the month warriors. Many took this opportunity to sleep, meditate, relax, and/or continue to train - powers or not. Often Tallyho and himself sparred, usually with the weapons in hand - as neither of their powers had become extremely significant one way or enough, and combat training was something to be more focused on for the time being.

While most had and perhaps still did see Falke as a push-over or practice dummy, it seemed they both equally enjoyed getting to whirl weapons at one another. And it usually ended with both having successfully overpowered the other or 'won' a fight, sweaty, and parting in good faith until the following morning. This evening, was no different.

"I'll take you down tomorrow." Falke growled in final farewell. A challenge of raised eyebrow, and the wrinkle of good humor on his lips. It wasn't ever goodbye, or see you later, but a statement usually - something to start off conversation the following day, one could only suppose.

As he left the clearing near the cage at the center of the Academy, sore, tired, and sweaty; he headed first to grab a clean pair of clothes, and added to the 'baths'. It wasn't lustrous by any means, but he'd learned to appreciate the luke warm water sometimes leftover from dinner by the cooks and was brought up to warm up the cold, mountain spring supply every night. Sometimes the rare fire was lit under a bucket, in colder months, but usually it decent in the month of July - but the cook's water was always nice to find when you came.

After cleaning up, he headed back to his room, easily finding his way around the Academy over time, and having a willingness to learn not to meander into the wrong room, or have to follow anyone around like a lost, meandering puppy. He sat in the quiet and dark for a time, meditating briefly, before laying down to relax - and shortly falling asleep...

The sleep she found back on the island was eased, calm. The thought process she gained from the attempts at meditating was not. She shifted and slid in her chosen spot. Nothing would escape from her mind. Not a thing. Lux always found that it was better to sigh roughly to herself at this time instead of do it closer towards the others concentrating. She wasn’t sure if she was making progress; which set something gnawing at the pit of her heart.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Cyclopeans. Vile things she’d rather not see ever again, particularly since that day in Central Park. Her wishes were not vocalized, however, due to her stronger wishes of not stepping over any boundaries. These things were grief enough. As seen by the chalk-white, terrorized face she wore when her name was called. The metal cage felt like a death chamber. A guttural roar rang out among the metal scraping against metal. Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, her hysterical breathing being barely drowned by the sheer magnitude of it! If anyone was to die today, it was going to be her.

Lux never seemed so heavy footed before.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Again, meditation became an obstacle she couldn’t seem to surmount. Lux tried everything she could think of. Picturing serene places, closing her eyes, doing both at the same time! None of it worked. So, she tried her methods of easing away the slight tinge of stage fright. They helped some, but didn’t work the way Lux wanted. She didn’t want to burden anyone with her questions about how they meditated. Lux wanted to just give up and roll over and say “defeat me now”, but her stubborn, prideful nature would not allow her to do so. Cracks often appeared on her lips, some being barely healed before they were torn open again, from the constant biting and licking she did.

Lux wasn’t rather proud of that, either. It seemed fruitless to worry about it after another day. The cold pit in her heart was growing, gnawing even more. Something inside her kept on telling her that she couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t do it.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The same chant rang through her mind now as she stood inside the cage once more. Three years had been kinder to her than she expected. Scars, one major one riding high on her left forearm, littered her body. Her hands, once soft and manicured, had become rough and calloused. It was from gripping the hilt of the weapon so hard. Black blood splattered the tattered skirt and shirt she wore, marking her face now, too. Instead of shying away from the fear of dying, Lux had grown to acknowledge the feeling and used it to her advantage. Much to the stage fright she had when she first started acting. Funny, how theatre proved more helpful in her life.

When, not if, she got back to Earth, Lux’d have to personally thank her dear acting coach. But that wasn’t the problem at hand now. As before, she had traveled in here last, praying that the others’ eyes were not on her. Her stance shifted and changed as the Cyclopean caught on her scent and charged once more. Its wounds were bleeding heavily, but the thing wouldn’t die yet. A grunt left Lux as she sprung, her sickle’s chipped blade glinting in the sun.
A sharp contrast to the black stones that littered her feet now; Lux wiped the sweat from her brow as she trudged out of the metal death trap. Weary chocolate optics swept over the forms of the others, people somewhat familiar to her now. The only real friends she had were not in her sight yet.

Autumn, the shy girl, opened herself up immediately to Lux ever since the waterfall trip. From her, Lux was able to learn more about the tarot cards that had caught her eye in the tavern after they first met. It was through her self-esteem teaching of the blonde that Lux dropped the drama queen attitude of hers. The group had enough of Harper before, why need a female incarnate? Skylar couldn’t be counted as a friend, more so a begrudging acquaintance. They still butted heads, often. No matter how changed she was, Lux would never drop the sting she got whenever Skylar remarked her as “princess”.
In Dorian, she found a somewhat kindred spirit. She didn’t dare branch out further to him; Lux felt as if he had enough friends. Besides, she knew he was close to Tallyho. Lux felt like she’d be trespassing on that friendship if she dared for a deeper connection. It didn’t stop her heart from yearning, however, not matter how many times she tried to deceive herself.

The warmth flowering in her heart for Dorian, one she knew was the blinding warmth of a crush, sometimes overpowered the freezing doubt that sat in there. It was just enough to keep her smiling to herself. It was just enough to lull her to sleep.
Relations with the others involved with the Academy were tricky. Her hand to hand combat skills were poor, and she was easily wiped with onto the floor. She paid well enough attention in Ji Na’s class, but never tried to form a friendship with the teacher. Dae, Mori, and Liam were also figures that eluded her scope of potential people. Dae more-so, due to her fear of scarecrows; and Dae looked eerily close to one. The only guardian she managed to try talking to was Kit, but even then that wasn’t often.
Lux could only wonder when hers would come. Perhaps she could make a better friend that way? Ah, she didn’t know, and she was severely confused. Lux had never really valued the presence of other, living beings. She had been too busy playing the façade of a cold, heartless drama queen. It was her shield from the other people of the world; of her high school. In this dog eat dog world, Lux had thought that an icy exterior would protect her fragile heart from breaking.

Instead, it proved to weaken and chip at it more. This realization became something that left a vile, sour taste in her mouth. Lux had taken her seat towards the end of the table, away from the others. She had an air of melancholy about her as she brushed a few stray hairs back from her face. Her long hair was chopped short, thanks to the claws of a cyclopean. On the bright side, her neck felt cooler. Her meal was eaten in silence and Lux left when she had cleared her plate. She wanted to lie down on her bed and think about the calm of the Academy during the dinner meal. Or wallow in her own self-loathing pity

Whichever lulled her first to sleep that night.

Tallyho took Dorian’s offer graciously but she certainly didn’t hesitate. Despite being pretty full already the blonde ate his and even Falke’s banya almost as quickly as she ate her own.

“I’m fine. Not really looking forward to more training but you know…”

Technically she didn’t have to do it. Haru pretty much freed them from the earlier, more rigorous training ritual he enforced before. By now he figured that they cared enough to take responsibility for their bodies.

Without any warning Tallyho reached over into Dorian’s pocket and pulled out the familiar black rectangle. By now she gained a certain concept of how to use it. It was pretty magical really, all she had to do was touch a picture and she had control over everything. The only picture that wouldn’t work was the one in the likeness of the planet. Dorian told her before that it wouldn’t work because Aries didn’t own a wifi (whatever that was) but she didn’t believe him. Aires had a lot of things after all. What did he know? Therefore, she took it upon herself to check on its status from time to time.

She tapped around for a while before finding her pictures, the first one to come up being a work by Hieronymus Bosch. Tallyho tilted her head to the side. All of the people in his paintings were so tiny—precious even. Too precious to be participating in some of the…well utter bullshit they were getting themselves into. Okay… maybe they weren’t precious per say, but Tallyho still felt concerned whenever she found a scene in his paintings she hadn’t noticed before. The man put a lot of time in his work, adding fine details to every inch of his vision but the blonde couldn’t help but feel like the artist was a little tortured.

“You know,” she hummed to the table, “I overheard Haru talking to Ryou about getting us fitted for armor sometime soon.”

Tallyho still wore dresses from time to time because they made her feel freer. But she found pants to be a lot more accommodating for the training they were doing. Besides, it wasn’t like the girls really got to wear their pants when they went out into the city. Tallyho took advantage of the opportunity and honestly, she couldn’t understand how people like Autumn could stand to jog around in an apron for three years.

She slurped down the rest of her soup before popping up from her pillow. It was getting late and Tallyho didn’t particularly care for running up and down the mountain during sunset.

“Falke and I will see you around.”
---


Three years. Three years and shit was getting a little bit easier, yes. But Haru Karokov still didn’t feel like the team was at their very best. Or maybe they were? He wouldn’t know because of the lack of direction. While he found that the kids (as a whole) were a lot more manageable, he still needed more to work with. Haru was a superb strategic planner but what could he improve next? He’d spend his evenings with a cigarette poised between the pearl clasps that were his teeth, thinking about what he could do to make training more efficient.

He wasn’t sure if he was doing everything—if anything—right. There were no signs from the Goddess, just long, dragging days, all prayers unheard and if they were heard then very silent answers. He wondered how many years they would have to spend at the academy before they reached enlightenment. How many more ritualistic cyclopean kills. How many more walks up and down and through the mountain.

---

And Haru wasn’t the only one. Tallyho too wondered when their journey could begin. After a smack talk laden sparring session with Falke the young woman continued training. She trudged up the mountain path, her slender calves pulsing with an acidic drive. When she reached the top she would lean forwards and graze the dirt with slender fingers before turning on the ball of her foot and trudging down the path like a wild boar. Tallyho did this until the sky was orange and she was laid out on her running path, heart pounding, chest heaving, and belly facing the sky with a special familiarity. She could not hear her breathing through the cicada songs.

The blonde rolled over onto her side to face the world beyond the mountain. Tiny trembles of light were seen from the city far below. Had she not spent the day training, she might have gone down for a drink.

All she’d need was her scarf which she made a ritual of using to cover her hair. She realized long ago that there was a difference between the month warriors and everyone else. Whenever they went down to town Tallyho felt like she was supposed to be harboring a secret. And maybe she was. But it wasn’t like she really made a point of not telling outsiders about her status as a Month Warrior. It just never came up in conversation.

Though, judging by what happened in the RK, maybe it was good that she never felt compelled to explain her situation to any old stranger. She could imagine herself hanging from the gallows, her small white body drowning in an even whiter robe with a rope burnt neck as dark as an elderberry. That was what happened to people who made a habit of speaking too much. That was what always happened.

---

Soft clicking noises could be heard farther down the path. Tallyho sat up in a hurry to find Mr. Vo’s ox cart dawning over the dip in the path. There were a couple of students in the back, one of them being Kwasi who spent a significant amount time with Mr. Vo helping with the garden in exchange for many trips down to the city. One time Tallyho asked what business he had down there and he told her that he’d been spreading the word just as he had before he was saved by the group.

Kwasi spotted Tallyho and offered a kind wave. He really hadn’t changed so much. Three years ago he did seem a bit on the boyish side. But now he was a man with the same innocent attitude and beautiful, kindly, holy hands. He kept his head shaved and monk robes clean. Sure he had to replace a pair of sandals or two but he still managed to keep true to his aesthetic despite Kat’s silent but effective teasing.

Mr. Vo stopped the cart allowing Tallyho to move towards the path wall.

“Another long day of training?” Kwasi asked as the cart restarted its wobble past.

“You guessed right,” Tallyho said, allowing it to move in front of her before effortlessly hitching onto the back for a ride to the top of the mountain. “Did you go down there yelling your banter again?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Kwasi was too polite to question why Tallyho was so resistant to the Goddess. Not only was she a Month Warrior but if she was of the lineage he thought she was from—and the hair really gave it away—then her denial of the entity made even less sense.

They rode in brief silence until Mr. Vo’s cart rounded at the fountain. Tallyho jumped out of the back and bid goodbye to Kwasi before a small force ran into her, staggering her from the waist down.

Karma pulled her small shoulder out of Tallyho’s thigh before running around her. Her eyes trained on the back of Mr. Vo’s cart. A small coin sack wrinkled in her fist.

“Don’t tell me you bozos decided to go to flipping town without me!? I JUST found my money!”

“Yesterday I told you that we were leaving at daybreak,” Kwasi called calmly.

“I want candy! You could have waited a few more hours!” The child yelled as she chased after.

Tallyho furrowed her brows. Karma had no concept of time and it didn’t seem like she planned on finding one.

---

As the small girl disappeared around the corner, Tallyho slowly backed towards the forest. After the jumping incident Haru showed them a path to the water that was way quicker and did not require one to jump from an obscene height. She meandered on the edge of the beach for a proper place to bathe, finally deciding on a shady spot that was hidden behind the leaves of a low hanging branch. After stripping down, she made a brisk pace into the water, melting into its murky blue as quickly as she could until it was below her nose. Blonde curls swam on the surface with moss and lily pads, her eyes closed until the moon was fresh on the blue-black sky.

She dragged herself out of the water and redressed quickly. It became a little difficult from time to time with so much hair sticking to her back and shoulders. Every now and again she’d wince as she yanked a few unnoticed tresses in her hurry. Even in the dead of night she was never comfortable bathing in the lake knowing that there was a population of 300 nearby. She didn’t even use the bath houses and made trips like this quick (maybe not painless) and certainly discreet.

Finally dressed, Tallyho stalked back up to the academy with wet hair swung over her shoulder. On her way back to her building she passed the clearing. Had she been more careless she would have totally forgotten about her episode in the clearing and the hot jewels that burned a hole into the lap of her dress. But the fear wasn’t as crippling as it had been. In the years after she hadn’t been tossed into any other strange occurrences. She couldn’t even remember where the flaming man’s footprint singed the soil.

---

That night Tallyho dreamt of being stranded on a beach. The island was naked and there were no trees to shield the young woman from the sun’s baking gaze. She tried to plea with the island but the only thing she owned was a pinecone. Desperate, she told the island that she would feed her only beloved pinecone to the soil if it bore her a tree. The island, extremely hungry, said yes and she planted it. She waited seven days and nights for the shade she was promised but nothing came. Then she became angry and yelled at the island.

The island was saddened and complained to the sun who alerted the clouds who came to the island’s defense. They darkened, threatening Tallyho with barks of thunder but she was not scared. She told the clouds that she could control their greatest weapon. That she could control lightning. Offended, the clouds pelted her with rain which cooled the young warrior. Eager for more water, she taunted the clouds with more insults. They became so angry that they began to spit fire. Tallyho was frightened, and with no mighty tree to hide under she was forced to perish by the whim of the raining flame tears.

---

The blonde fell in and out of consciousness, her hands drifting to her face involuntarily to swipe away layers of sweat. She tossed back and forth too hot in any position she managed and lifted her shirt to expose her damp stomach. Soft screams were flooding in from all sides. Tallyho hacked and rolled over again, this time covering her ears.

A firm grasp to the elbow ripped her out of her sleeping trance. Green eyes popped open, eager but bloodshot. Tallyho could hardly register that someone was yelling something in her ear before the same force that woke her lifted her by the elbow, off of the ground, and onto ill prepared feet.

“Get up…….Fi….. Get…..”

A young woman Tallyho had never spoken to before was yelling at her in an incoherent language. She took Tallyho by the shoulders and shook her into clarity, the segments of sounds working hard to form words and finally an understandable sentence.

“Fire! Fire! Come on get out!”

Tallyho glanced around the room with saucer eyes that were tantalized by the orange glow that overtook the girl’s wing. The paper walls were blackening and being eaten by eager flames with little mercy or patience. The unfamiliar girl, sure that Tallyho had finally gotten the message darted away, presumably to wake another heavy sleeper.

Finally thinking at full speed the blonde reached for her sword, clutching it as tight as she could before meandering into the hall where academy girls were shoving past, bumping elbows and trampling on one another. Tallyho tried to think quickly about which female warriors slept where and how she would get them up. Realizing that she had little time to think, the blonde plowed through the gaggle of frightened students, contrasting the natural movement of the line and moving away from the exit which frankly pissed a lot of people off. Every time she caught sight of one to the Month Warrior girls huddled in their burnt out stations she offered a hoarse and rude awakening.

“HEY! Get up! Get outta here.”

As she moved farther back into the blazing building, she made a mental checklist of every warrior she managed to notify. This didn’t help however. She was a little too frightened to remember who had been woken up and who hadn’t. So Tallyho, despite her better judgment, moved to the back to the building until she hit the back wall.

She looked back at the exit—girls were still struggling to escape and there was no way in Aires that Tallyho was going to get out on time coming all the way from the back. A flaming support beam plummeted down from the ceiling, crushing a few girls in the middle mark of the chaotic line and blocking the girls in the back from exiting. Some girls tried to slide through the crevices of the fallen beam only to have their clothing burst into flames. It was a test of human kindness—the other girls would not help the ones who were burning alive, even beat them away for fear that they too might catch on fire.

But in situations like these somehow it was okay to be selfish.

With the scent of burning flesh overtaking the hall and Tallyho backed into a corner, she began to panic. She looked for a way out and her sights fell upon a small window that barely had enough space for one person to crawl through at a time. Then her sword.

She smashed at the back window with the hilt and other girls joined, the resilient glass crumpling into web-like designs before shattering. A cry of victory roared from the back and soon girls were toppling out of the window one by one. Tallyho almost stayed behind to let more girls go through the window before her, but that martyrdom was stolen from her by a group of upperclassmen who showed a kindness, leadership, and support that Tallyho hadn’t witnessed from students at the academy before.

Despite how easy it was to knock the window out, it was a different story when it came to climbing up onto its seal. Two older girls knelt down in front of the window. Their strong knees perched in front of one another’s to make an impromptu stepping case. Tallyho gripped two hands of very different textures and life stories as she planted a foot on each young woman’s lap. In this mob of desperate human lives Tallyho suddenly felt like just another academy student. It was an average student who had woken her up and it was average students who were maintaining order, holding Tallyho’s hands and letting her literally step on them in order to help her, and few others get out alive.

Before leaning out of the window, Tallyho looked at one of the young women. Her eyes were blue, jawline strong and narrow and somehow this made her come off as a bit of a tomboy with her short black hair barely pulled into a pony tail. The blonde nodded thank you and the upperclassman nodded back.

After that Tallyho didn’t waste any time straddling over the seal and tumbling onto the pavement. She barely escaped with a deep nick on her left inner thigh caused by leftover glass. Finding no time to wince over her new cut, the February Warrior—no, girl, because she felt like a girl again— stood up and ran out to the courtyard where she knew everyone else would congregate. The entire—entire—academy was ablaze. No structure spared.

Tallyho plowed through students who were standing around looking for their teacher with panic stricken eyes. Tallyho was looking for her teacher too. Haru was nowhere in sight. And she hadn’t run into any of the other warriors yet.

The only familiar face was a distraught Mr. Vo. The old man was standing ankle deep in the fountain trying to garner the attention of students who were just too scared to listen.

“Everyone stay in the courtyard! Everyone stay in the courtyard!”

His soft, old face stained with tear trails from watching his beloved ox burn alive in their barns.

“Everyone stay in the courtyard!”

From his staggered breaths Tallyho could tell that his old heart wasn’t used to so much excitement or tragedy. She meandered over to the fountain, the cut in her thigh sending a sting through her body but she didn’t even care anymore. She jumped at a sudden crash. The roof of the girl’s wing had completely collapsed.

From the wreckage that was the elite housing little Karma came walking. She was not marching, just walking. The light from the fire illuminating the bags that puffed up under her eyes from a disturbed sleep. Such an old feature on a young face. She looked like she was lost, stumbling through a place that she used to know. Her eyes were glazed with tears, snot crusted on her upper lip, and Mr. Vo saw her and embraced her.

Another loud crash. This time it was an explosion from the medical lab. Tallyho wondered about Ji Na.

Another. This time from the stables.

“Everyone stay in the courtyard! Everyone stay in the courtyard!”

No one would stay in the courtyard.

Some students made a break for the forest while others fled to the crumbling dormitories hoping to salvage the twisted bodies of friends from the wreckage. Kwasi was sitting on the ground of the courtyard praying. Chanting the same damned prayer over and over.

“May the Goddess save our souls for we have been wretched enough to witness such tragedy. May the Goddess save our souls for we have been wretched…”

Tallyho bowed her head and half of her almost wanted to pray too. Instead she clutched her head in her hands, covering her ears.

Another explosion, another roar of cries.

She wasn’t even positive if any of the other female warriors had gotten out alive. And what about Dorian? Where on Aires was he? And Xabier, wasn’t he afraid of fire? Falke was blind…. Autumn? She wasn’t even sure if the other female warriors made it out of the building before it collapsed. She wondered this already but she couldn’t help but relapse. She would have even felt comfort in knowing that Harper was alive. She wanted nothing more than to get up and be girl with the nerves of steel again—to get up, go and find out if anyone was still alive—but her legs were too weak, folding under her like ribbons, blood striping down from her thighs to her ankles.

“Tallyho!”

The blonde looked up to see Haru stalking towards her. His red hair glowing against the fire. His clothes ruined, face smudged with ash.

“Keep a look out for the others. We have to stay together.”

Tallyho, excessively nervous, threw up all of her precious banya on Haru’s shoes. But he did not jump back, make a face, or even look surprised. Instead he gently scratched her back and it was the most comforting thing he had ever done for her. He then looked over at Karma who was still petrified in Mr. Vo’s arms.

“Karma. Hey… Listen to me. Have you seen Ryou?”

She did not respond. Instead she looked to the east with a glazed expression. A cold tear rolling down her round cheek.

“Karma. Where’s your dad, huh?”

Karma did not answer. Instead she pointed at the forest entrance. There was the silhouette of a man on fire, walking towards the academy with an unsettling calmness.

“Ryou?” Haru’s voice was strong. He squinted through the smoke, eager to get a response.

“That’s not Ryou,” Tallyho, who had been watching said with a shudder.

“That’s the flaming man.”

Kit spent the night mulling over the hangings in his home country. They were brutal spectacles. And the robes, the pure white robes. He had nightmares that night.

The smell of smoke was always welcome in the Jones household. Smoke meant meals by the fireplace or burnt meals that ended up as a family joke. It meant incense that lit up and calmed the room.

The only time fire ever threatened her was when she was on a field trip to see firefighters. They told her of the danger and in her young mind she was terrified. As she grew older, she became less interested in fire prevention and more interested in the firefighters themselves.

All in all, fire was positive for her.

It was positive until she heard Tallyho’s voice. She didn’t even see the girl after she woke up, she only heard the crackling flames and the screams of other students. It took a moment for her to fully comprehend the situation. She almost thought that she had been back at home.

Her weary eyes opened quickly. The light was what first alerted her to the danger.

She grabbed her bag and weapon, despite what she learned in her youth, and fled.

The voices rang in her head in a cacophony as she tried to shove her way through the crowd. More and more voices entered her head, pleading for escape. Some didn’t even realize that they were dead.

Autumn passed through a student briefly before nearly stumbling over their burning corpse.

She couldn’t even tell who was living or dead at this point.

Her heart pounded so loud that her head hurt.

The smoke stung her eyes as she ran, realizing that she hadn’t even warned the others. There was someone else to do that, right? Someone had to be helping. Of course, it was Tallyho. Tallyho had helped. She could rely on Tallyho.

It was too hot. She felt like she was already burning. It was hot and she needed to escape.

It felt like years had passed. Time moved slowly as faces blurred. Some tried to guide her to the exit. Autumn followed.

She fell to the floor, crawling in a desperate attempt to try and get some oxygen. Her face was pouring sweat and her weapon was burning to the touch.

She barely made it out.

She spilled out of the doorway and ran into the courtyard, desperately trying to find the others as she coughed. Pink hair. Safe, comforting, familiar pink hair. Tallho and Haru, too. Autumn scrambled towards them, only to be pulled back.

Kit gripped her shoulder tightly, his eyes fixated on the forest. “Don’t move.”

Autumn dropped her weapon, no longer able to stand the burning metal.

“W-“ She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even question what was going on. She could only stand there and tremble as Kit pulled out his daggers. His bag was covered in soot and the straps were completely torn, leaving him with no choice but to carry it.

“We’ll be fine. We’ll be just fine.” His voice was gentle. As gentle as a voice could get when it had inhaled so much smoke.

The smell was enough to make her feel like puking.

She fell instead.

Kit was there to catch her.

The spirits were screaming at this point, barely any spoke. Most of them were students.

She could only hope that they weren't her comrades.

Only a few could be heard, some she had met before, their dead lips pressed close against Autumn’s ears.

“It’s them. They’re coming.” They whispered.

“It’s Amber.”

Autumn had no idea who Amber was. If this were any other day, she might have asked.

The flaming man.
“What did you say?” Haru did not look at Tallyho but the blonde knew that he was speaking to her. Another roar erupted from the boy’s dormitory. Tallyho covered her ears with eager, ashy palms.
“The flaming man.” she said again. This time her voice was louder. That was the man she saw in the forest. The singed footprint. The burning rocks. The flaming forest.
“He is the flaming man!”
Haru squinted at the figure. He found no use in asking if he had been the one to cause the fire because it was more than obvious. So he asked the second most important question:
“Who the fuck are you?”
The flames around the man dissipated but his silhouette was still prominent against the black forest. A low orange glow emanated around his figure. Haru likened this glow to the end of a cigarette when the life was sucked out of it by a nicotine thirsty s.o.b like himself. But this man, he was far from being devoid of life. As the figure pulled out of the darkness his featured began to form.
The “flaming man” seemed to be in no hurry really. The ground below him sizzled, dark boots sinking into the ground with off-beats and complete certainty. He was a firm figured man that rose at a sturdy 6’2 and was weighed down by a muscular build. The light consumed him slowly. Revealing the little things, white skin dark hair, heavy stubble. An eye patch clung to his left eye—with pride even! His footsteps, once identified by the thick sizzle of leaves were now known by small tongues of flame.
“Who are you?” Haru asked again.
The man stopped. He seemed offended and this frightened Tallyho. He did not answer right away however. Instead he slowly lifted his arm into the hair. His palm facing the sky growing hotter until fire licked the beds of his fingernails and soon a small ball of light was billowing up in the air.
It seemed anti-climactic really. Everyone watched with awe as the little fireball rose slowly before hitting an arc and succumbing to gravity. Haru’s expression, mouth twisted, brows furrowed, did not betray the feeling of perplexity that overcame him. The arc in his brows softened however as he thought about the man’s action. Certainly there was more to this?
“Get back…” he huffed. No one moved and maybe it was because they thought he was talking to the mysterious man. “I said get back!” This time he was louder, and turned to the others. He even made a point to stumble away from where it looked like the rapidly shrinking ball of fire was going to land. Random students obeyed, moving away in staggering waves. Mr. Vo hardened his grip on Karma and waded out of the fountains water with the help of Kwasi who found that prayer wasn’t appropriate for this situation.
It wasn’t until the majority of bystanders were safely behind the fountain that the fireball landed, whittling away in the pavement.
It wasn’t that Haru was disappointed that something more didn’t happen. But he was extremely pissed off by the man’s…lack of straight forwardness.
Haru stood up and moved towards him again and the crowd began to draw near with a sheep like loyalty. The little ball of fire was nothing but an ember on the rocks.
“I will ask you one more time. Wh—“
An explosion.
It all seemed to happen in a split second, really. The ember, generally understood to be harmless, expanded rapidly. The ground around it shuddering to rubble sending rocks flying. Haru was tossed back into the fountains edge. The half wall slamming into the back of his knee at an unsettling force. A slew of rocks coming down on him, and everyone close enough to the front of the crowd for that matter. Tallyho winced as a hunk of stone pelted into the one arm that was (thankfully) hovering above her head in an uncertain way of protection. Her other hand gripped her thigh, warm crimson reeling over the crevices of clenching fingers.
Dark smoke overtook the area where the flaming man stood. Haru could not see him but he could definitely hear him. A dark husky voice that dragged with a bit of claw—
“Call me Amber.”

Gwen woke sharply of her own accord, her nerves already on fire before she was consciously aware of the danger. Her thoughts were slow and stumbling from sleep, and she almost let darkness take her once more. But gradually she realized something was wrong; she could smell smoke. Fumbling awkwardly in the darkness, she reached for her belongings and got to her feet. The smell was worse from higher up, causing her to choke and crouch down closer to the oxygen.

To her horror, she could already see the glow of the fire, deceivingly like that of daybreak, from several directions. Screams came into earshot. Gwen opened her door, pulling a shawl around her shoulders, and a blast of hot air rushed into her room. One arm flew up protectively over her face, blocking her eyes from the chaos that lay before her.

The rice paper shriveled at the mere touch of a spark; embers rained down around her. The upper floor was already ablaze, Gwen realized with a shock. The integrity of the building was compromised; everyone had to get out of here, and fast. Suddenly, given the situation, the exit seemed very far away.

The girls were panicking, running in every which direction and yelling wildly. Gwen fought the crowd, heading toward the exit with those few who were oriented enough to do the same. The air around her was becoming hotter and thinner; Gwen’s breath was coming in short gasps. Her eyes stung and watered blindingly.

Gwen stumbled over someone lying prone across the hallway. At their contact, Gwen’s energy surged over the body and located the injuries: brain trauma, scraped knee, two splinters in the hand, eye and lung irritation, and a week-old bruise across the left ribcage. Consciousness lost. Before Gwen could move to help the girl, the building around her gave a great groan and fire rained down around her.

A beam had fallen where the unconscious girl had once lain, angry exposed tongues of flame dancing in the unbearable heat and eating the fragile walls within seconds. Gwen’s bare foot brushed the girl’s hand as she turned to run. Her body turned to ice inside; she stopped, her body hunched over itself. Her shawl caught fire and dropped from her shoulders. She stood shaking as the fire spread around her.

A hand roughly grabbed Gwen’s arm, snapping her out of her trance. Jerking herself back into motion, she left the dead girl behind her and pelted toward the exit. The entrance was nearly consumed with flame, but Gwen did not care. She jumped through and fell, rolling to put distance between her and the building.

Agony. Such agony. Fire. Burning. Pain. Twisting, breaking, bending, burning. Gritting her teeth, Gwen got to her feet and approached the fountain where many of the students had gathered. Though she was glad to see that many of them had survived the fire, there were injuries around the group as well. The smell of blood was tangy in the back of her burning throat, making her want to vomit.

The crowd grew silent, but for the wreckage of the campus and the muffled sobs of the students, when the flaming man appeared. Gwen watched him with veiled eyes, crouching close to the ground and feeling sick. Tallyho’s injury was frightening her by the amount of blood it shed. There was an artery close to there, it was dangerous…

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the mountain. People, rocks, and fire flew back; Gwen was once more disoriented by the new surge of bloodscent in the air. She herself had been knocked off her feet without noticing. The tear that ran down her face had nothing to do with the smoke this time.

The smoke cleared and Amber was visible again.
Haru didn’t want to waste time (or lives) asking any more questions. He reached for his sword but before his sticky red hand could grip its hilt Amber spoke again.
“Now don’t be silly, “he said. His voice was clearer now—theatrical actually. “I haven’t come here to do any more damage. This was just a warning shot. Was a bit too powerful I suppose. But I do apologize for that.”
Tallyho let out a sharp gasp of air, a scoff actually. What sort of apology was that? It wasn’t that she actually took it seriously but the fact that he would joke about such a thing under these conditions well… it was a blow below the belt.
“Then who are you here to warn?” Haru asked. His sword now unsheathed and ready for blood.
“I’m here to warn you of course. You Month Warriors.”
Who on Aires was this man? Amber stood comfortably. He did not flinch at Haru’s blade or the potential danger of being ganged up on by a gaggle of trained fighters. Because of this Haru figured that he couldn’t possibly be alone. Haru looked around, eyes darting his way and that. Taking in his surrounding with the upmost urgency. It seemed that he would have no choice but to rely on questions.
“Looking for my cast are you? Well there is no point in letting you wonder for such a long time. Surely they will come out to greet you? You won’t even have to come through the backstage entrance!”
From the forest shadows came three muddled figures.
The first stood at a reasonable 6 feet with a lankier build than Amber’s. While the majority of his smallness was hidden under the guise of a heavy winter coat, his sensitive figure could still be foretold by his nimble legs and posture. Thick brows lined his forehead in straight lines and his facial expression betrayed no amusement. In fact he may have looked a little tortured.
The second was a bit taller but a lot burlier than Amber himself. Like Amber he was a more mature man. Weathered wrinkles were just beginning to take a toll on his face and the hairs on his temples were starting to retire. But despite his visible aging he seemed strong—almost as if he got stronger with every year loaded onto his belt.
The third was unlike the other three men yet an attractive balance between the two—classically beautiful with the scent of danger and mystery about him. He looked like a man who had walked right out of the conservation camp. Long black hair spilled over tan shoulders in waves and barely curled into the arc of the bow strapped to his back.
“Meet Zircon, Hans and Raphael,” Amber said. “They have come to offer what will be their first (and hopefully the last) greetings.”
“What do you want?” Haru asked again. He moved his sword back towards his sheath and for the first time the warriors saw him falter. There was no way he could fight this lot and he knew it but there wasn’t a lot of time to plan around it either. Considering what Amber had done there was no telling what the others were capable of. Or even what they were capable of together.
“But wait! There’s more! Before I can tell you what we are here for I have to encourage my audience to give a standing ovation to three very special actors. I must admit I was a little worried about whether or not they could play their parts. They were advanced and took years to perfect! I even sent in an understudy to catch our leading lady if she fell downstage center! Please, won’t you—“
“What do you want you stupid old geezer?!” Karma’s little voice shot out from the area around the fountain. The students surrounding her backed away as Amber cocked his head towards her.
Mr. Vo covered her mouth frantically.
“She didn’t mean it! S-She didn’t!” The old man’s words were jumbled as he stumbled back.
Amber turned to face Haru again, his head moving slowly before he continued on as if the outburst never happened.
“Won’t you first put your hands together for our understudy? Katarina won’t you take your bow?”
Amber gave a hearty, lonely clap. Kat was already emerging from the crowd, her face exuding the essence of nonchalance. Students parted as she made her way through the crowd.
Kwasi stumbled back as Kat made her way past. Every comment she made about him not being a real man of Nomansland and she was serving this western? For evil of all things?
Tallyho shuddered back as the woman who had once quietly saved her from drowning almost stepped on her hand without a thought in the world.
Amber chuckled, throwing his head back as he clapped.
“Go on, take your bow!”
Kat did not entertain this. Instead she breezed past Amber, claiming a spot next to the silent archer before folding her arms.
Haru couldn’t say he was all that shocked. Kat was not only an unknown force to most, but was excessively powerful already.
“And now I’d like a moment of silence for my leading lady and man! Honestly I didn’t expect them to grow into such fine actors! Their skills were believable to all of you I bet. Why if I were a fool I’d think they actually came to like you lot! But I suppose it would be easy to be a fool in a situation like this. I’ve watched them grow on this set from wee adolescents to quite attractive adults and after such a long performance I wouldn’t blame them if they were a little shy to take the stage again. After all, they’re probably scared of your personal reviews—“
“What. The fuck. Do you want?” Haru asked. He was visibly annoyed now, grinding words through his teeth.
“He wants you to stop,” a soft voice came from the back. It was Ji Na, shuffling through the mayhem. Elegant, unsaved, and disgustingly pretty. She came until she took a spot between Amber and Haru.
“He wants the Month Warriors to stop.”
“What does that mean?”
“I understand that you went through a lot of trouble, bringing the children here, training them for so long. But it’s time to end the journey. What you all are fighting for is detrimental to this world, and maybe even for earth.”
“Thhheeeere’s my leading lady!” Amber threw a jolly arm around Ji Na’s narrow shoulders. She swayed to the side, small body overtaken by the gentle, but sudden force. She did not return the affections, however. Instead she kept her eyes trained to the ground.
Okay really, where the fuck was Ryou? Haru turned around, scanning the crowd for the familiar mess of blonde hair but he could not find him.
“We did not mean for this warning to go to such extreme proportions…”
“No need to explain Ji Na. We got our point across.”
Haru honestly wasn’t sure what to do. Attacking was the least intelligent thing he could do, primal even. But he couldn’t just turn away without getting enough answers.
“Are you working for Oblivion?”
“No, far from it,” Amber hummed. “We are working for mankind.”
“How is discouraging, no, nearly killing the saviors of this world a service to mankind?”
Amber laughed. Laughed so hard, chest heaving, mouth gasping, then he grew silent before saying, “Why… I don’t expect you to understand.”

They left. A layer of smoke and they left. Autumn tried to wipe the tears off her face, but more kept coming.

Kit waited for a moment, just to be sure, before embracing Autumn with his one good arm. She began to sob, but the smoke quickly stopped her ability to do so. She could hardly breathe.

Kit used the bandages that Autumn had given him and a nearby stick for a makeshift splint for his upper arm. It was hardly perfect, and he needed treatment as soon as possible, but it was all he had for now. He was just lucky that Autumn always kept the bandage wrappings on hand. Still, he never thought he would have to make a splint using only one arm and his teeth. It hurt like hell just setting it up and was a bit flimsy, but it was something at least.

The blood flow on his arm had pretty much stopped, mostly due to the fact that the blood was caked over the wound. There was still the occasional dribble if he moved his arm too much and cracked the surface, but it wasn’t as bad as the injuries of some others.

There was some bandage wrapping left over, but Kit could hardly help anyone with only one arm available.

As dawn began to break, Kit joined Kwasi in prayer.

Autumn was among those who searched for the dead. She treated the bodies carefully, making sure that they were as far away from where Amber was as possible. Spirits were one thing, but corpses were another. The blonde had always thought of corpses like the ones on TV, a little bloody but alright enough for her to handle. The reality was much different.

They were still warm. That was what surprised Autumn the most. If they weren’t so incredibly stiff, she might have thought they were still alive. The areas where the blood had pooled were bluish and blotchy, like a bruised fighter. It was enough to make her vomit, though she made sure to do so away from the bodies.

She lined them up carefully, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach and the voices surrounding her. Many were only now realizing they were dead. Out of respect, she made sure to place them as far away from where Amber had been as possible.
She had heard a rumor that many spirits clung on to their bodies. It was why spirit activity flared up when graves were disturbed. It was also why location was so important. If she were to place the bodies in the courtyard, who knew how they would react.

It was surreal. For a while, she continued on in a daze. She didn’t listen to the spirits, only heard them like a white noise. This was the same for anyone else around her. Living, dead, she wasn’t paying attention to them. She was only focusing on the moving the bodies. The only time she tuned in was when she had to find a body. More often than not the spirit was more than happy to help. No one wanted to be stuck in the rubble. But as soon as the body was located she went back to ignoring everything else. Moving the bodies. That was her job.

If she wasn’t so upset by all of this, she could have easily used her powers for location alone. All she had to do was listen to the spirits and find the bodies, everyone else could move them. Somehow, though, it seemed impersonal. It was too business like. The thought process was ironic, given that she felt as empty as she perceived a corporate office to be.

Time itself seemed to flow oddly. It was a little too fast. Before she knew it, Haru had called her to gather near the forest entrance. Kit was there as well, fidgeting with the splint he had made. Autumn tightened it for him, making it far more useful.

“Here, the leftovers.” Kit handed the rest of the wrappings to Autumn, who held them in her hand for a while as the others began to gather. Her eyes burned. She was crying again, though she didn’t really feel like crying. She didn’t really feel like anything. She wasn’t sure how to feel.

Her eyes fell upon Tallyho. She was bleeding badly, red rushing down her leg.

“Tallyho. I have some bandages. Here, you can have them.” Autumn handed them to the other blonde, her voice monotone.

(Warning: Super baby mini post.)

Tallyho, drunken by grogginess, accepted the bandages from Autumn. She never really learned how to apply them properly but the gesture of offering them was good enough for the blonde who really didn’t care too much about the pain at this point. In fact she sort of just accepted it and somehow everything hurt a lot less. Too tired to pick the glass out of her wound, the February warrior sloppily wrapped the gauze around her leg until she had used the last of it.

Haru eventually made his rounds, asking that they meet at the forest entrance immediately. Tallyho wasn’t looking forward to this exchange, especially since it seemed pretty important. But she could tell by the hardened look in the guardian’s eye that a smart person wouldn’t dare question or reject his suggestion.

Gwen had never liked Ji Na from the beginning. As she had been fairly open about his distaste, one would expect that she might hold a certain smugness about the healer’s betrayal. Gwen wouldn’t say she had called it, exactly, but clearly she had been on to something. Well, that wasn’t exactly how it was. Though Gwen’s opinion of Ji Na seemed unfounded and largely instinctive, reasons existed for her feelings. They stretched deep, far into her past and back to vulnerable emotional centers. Gwen felt a slight twist in her already strained empathetic core when Ji Na went forward to join Amber.

She watched the following proceedings through a hazy film of pain and shock; the world was still bleeding and screaming around her. The cracking of bones and boiling of flesh, sensed by some peripheral means afforded by her ability, raged on like a feverish nightmare. The suffering coated her consciousness and stuck viscously, a poisonous concoction thick as molasses. Sensory overstimulation sent her into overdrive; it was all she could do to comprehend her environment moment by moment.

Gwen was aware that Amber had gone. Some part of her mind comprehended that people were churning back into motion. She watched as others drug bodies past her. It was not always clear who was alive and who was dead. Moments passed; they could have been minutes or hours.

As the sun rose, her thoughts slowly began to clear. Maybe, she thought, it was easier to cope when the injuries themselves were no longer occurring at such an alarming rate. The pain was still there, like a stab of lightening in the center of her body, but at least the air had begun to clear.

Gwen stood at long last, almost unaware of the various aches of her body. She herself hadn’t acquired any major injuries; smoke inhalation and bruising were probably the most of her worries. Cautiously, she meandered about, still apparently in some mental pain from the physical agony around her. She tried to keep distance from those who were seriously injured; something about physical proximity to them made her feel ill.

Before she could go too far, Haru found her and told her to gather with the others at the forest entrance. Already she saw others there. Hopefully everyone would be present; that would be one weight off their shoulders. As she approached, certain memories came back to her like little snapshots. Tallyho had been bleeding quite badly, as she recalled. The February warrior had done her best to bind the wound, but it was poorly done and she still appeared to be bleeding some.

Gwen suddenly found the situation before her to be very awkward. She had an obligation to help by healing Tallyho’s wound, she felt, but at the same time she had always been somewhat secretive about her healing ability. Though she was capable of treating injuries in a fashion, her control of the ability was still… flawed. Proper healing came with a catch.

Even so, she couldn’t leave the woman to bleed out or risk an infection. That would be another headache to deal with. Gwen crouched down beside Tallyho, her shapeless shift falling over her knees as she did so. “Hey,” said Gwen quietly. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. Would you mind if I…?” Gwen lifted a hesitant hand to as if preparing to remove the bandaging on Tallyho’s leg, but stopped questioningly to wait for her response.

Harper woke up to pressure on his legs and small aches that peppered his entire body. His forehead was pounding like an elephant stampede, his eyes were dry, and his throat felt like he'd swallowed steel wool. Bruises pulsed all over, particular his back, and his right shoulder was numb.

In other words, Harper was very, very uncomfortable.

Sitting up, he discovered he was laying on a tarp on the ground. The air was still laden with smoke, the atmosphere as heavy as his legs, which he noticed were bandaged.

"You are awake," Ondine's voice observed.

Harper turned to her, running a hand through his hair--which, to his surprise, was much shorter than he remembered. "What happened?"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Harper blinked, then scrunched up his nose in effort. There had been a fire...he remembered that. A fire and an explosion. He remembered the boys' dorm collapsing. He remembered getting thrown back, and then the ceiling landing on top of him. He remembered his shoulder hurting like crazy, and thinking he had dislocated it. He remembered dousing himself entirely in his remaining water, and then pushing the flaming boards away from him with the backs of his arms.

His ankle suddenly throbbed, and he remembered that his foot had gone through a board during the collapse, and he couldn't kick it off, which meant he'd had to half-crawl half-stumble his way out. But it was so hard, with the smoke stinging his eyes and filling his lungs. He could hardly breathe and kept coughing. Everything hurt so much, and he kept tripping over everything, and the wooden board kept eating into his foot. He didn't think he had ever been in that much pain before.

He barely remembered collapsing on the dirt not even two feet away from the burning building, but even then he could still feel the fire, still feel the splinters in him, still feel the jagged teeth of the board on his foot, now burning. Even the ground was hot, and it was in that moment, as he coughed himself unconscious, that he truly thought this was the end, and that he would die.

Yet, clearly, he didn't. And as he relayed all of this to Ondine, he still couldn't figure out how he had gotten from near-certain death to extreme discomfort.

Ondine herself looked confused. "When I found you, you were on the grass, a good distance away from the fire," she told him. "Are you sure you didn't drag yourself further?"

Harper shook his head adamantly. "I specifically remember falling down after two steps. And then not getting back up."

Ondine raised an eyebrow. "Well, either way you're lucky. Your burns aren't very bad, 2nd degree at worst, and mostly on your legs. It's going to take a few weeks to heal, so no swimming until then. Your shoulder did get dislocated, but we popped it in already. The hardest part was getting all those wood and glass splinters out of you. Your chest took a heavy hit, but I think most of them were retrieved. Same with the board around your ankle, although that left behind a nasty cut. Again, no swimming, unless you want to lose the foot."

Harper would have pouted, but at that moment Haru passed by, muttering about meeting somewhere. Harper groaned and Ondine glared, but she got up anyways. "Do you need help?" she asked, extending a hand.

"No, I can do it," Harper said. He ended up falling over, cheek grazing the soot covered ground. The second time around he did let Ondine help him up, and she offered him his trident before walking along with him.

As they walked/hobbled, Ondine filled him in on the traitorous acts of Ji Na, Kat, and Benjamin, as well as the arrival of Amber. Towards the end Harper spotted a horse, recognizing it as the one he had ridden to the dorms.

"At least the horses made it out all right," he said when Ondine finished.

"Really? A huge betrayal by some of the elite, and all you can think about are the horses?"

"Did the others make it out all right as well?"

Ondine snorted. "If by others you mean Xabi, then yes, they made it out all right. You'll see them in a minute anyways. I'm assuming Haru meant to round up all the warriors."

Harper nodded. The betrayal was shocking, but it was hard to pay attention when everything was uncomfortable. "I wasn't really close to them anyways," he admitted with a shrug.

Ondine was quiet for a while, before asking, "I take it then that it was you who freed the stables?"

Harper nodded. "I couldn't stand to hear them screaming like that. And I mean...they're just horses. What did they do? And then all those little kids at the dorm...there weren't many left by the time I got there, but there were still some in their rooms, just hiding and crying in there. They'd even locked the doors. Like that would keep fire out. Although, it probably helped, since fire needs oxygen and they always tell you not to open doors with hot doorknobs."

Ondine raised an eyebrow. "They always tell you?"

"Well, you know...fire safety videos."

"I don't."

"Whatever. Forget I said anything."

A pause. And then, "So you helped the other tenants of the dorm as well?"

"Of course!" Harper exclaimed, "What, you think I'm just going to leave some kids in there to die? How horrible do you think I am?!"

"Some might think you were still in the ocean."

"Yeah? Well fuck them," Harper said angrily, "You know, if I was still in the ocean, some of the warriors wouldn't even be alive. And all those horses? Dead. Other kids in the dorms? Dead. They'd all be dead!"

"Harper." Ondine said, a warning tone in her voice. They were nearly there, and certainly within earshot.

"I don't care, Ondine. They can hear me for all I care! And they better get used to it, since i won't be able to go into the fucking ocean for a while to scream all my problems out. I mean, seriously!" Harper stopped walking at this point, too riled up to continue with his stiff leg. "It's been three years and people still don't like me, but it wasn't fucking me who betrayed everyone, was it? It was the fucking sweetheart, Ji Na. The doctor. Everyone loved her. And then Kat, and the other guy. No one disliked them. Yeah, I'm selfish and an asshole, but at least I'm fucking honest about it."

"I thought you didn't care what anyone thought."

"I don't! I don't give one shit! Not a rat's ass!" And with those convictive words, he marched/hobbled onward to join Haru and the others while Ondine followed behind, shaking her head, but with a slight smile on her lips. After all, she didn't disagree.

Tallyho was more than surprised that Gwen had reached out to her. It wasn’t that Gwen was a part of the “other” side of the team, but she did tend to keep to herself. The blonde would have been content with her bandage job, but based on the information that she lost a lot of blood maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. For all she knew she could have been unconscious this entire time.
“Sure,” Tallyho relaxed her leg, an open invitation for Gwen to treat her. “Where is everyone else?” She rubbed her eyes, things were a little blurry but she could still make out the figures around her. Just as she asked she noticed that Harper (who looked pretty fucked up himself) and his guardian joined the group. That wasn’t what she meant. Though earlier she would have even been happy seeing even Harper alive, she did not address him. They were not friends after all.
But where were her friends? She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of Falke somewhere around. But she hadn’t seen a trace of Dorian or Xabier since the orphans left.
Haru stood on the outskirts of the group, extremely annoyed by everything really. It wasn’t just because of what happened with Amber but when he tried to reel the group back into order he was met with grunts, rolled eyes, and twisted expressions. But of course everyone BUT the cat guardian was doing the best they could in this situation! Somehow, as always, Haru just wasn’t doing his job right, right? Of course. The redhead felt an ache in his chest but he patted it off with the base of his palm.
“It looks like we are going to have to pursue political protection.”
Tallyho cocked her ear in the direction of the cat guardian.
“We now have two enemy groups to deal with. If we are going to be attacked again like we were last night then it is time to seek approval from the Harbinger and go under the protection of the church.”
Haru mentioned before that at some point they would have to prove themselves to the Harbinger and test their claim as the true month warriors.
“I don’t know what this Harbinger wants us to do for our test but we are going to have to be very smart about this. When we go to the RK we will be meddling in politics and there is no avoiding it. Therefore, all of you will have to learn how to hold your tongue, know your place, and refrain from betraying information that the government doesn’t need to know. If you do exactly what I say this chapter of our lives should go as smoothly as possible. But if you’re difficult about it this could cost the lives of the entire team.”

Unsurprisingly, given her openly religious attitude, Lillian was in the midst of the students at the fountain joined together by prayer. She was, however, not openly chanting a prayer she didn't have faith in - not against the young monk's credit, but this was little more than the small ripple of a river stone blocking the flow of a creek, a hiccup in the great, wretched tragedies she had witnessed or had been apart of over her abetted, lengthy lifetime. But she could pray for those would had been lost peace after death, at the very least - and at most, for those, who would pass on before their job was finished.

"Hiri hyn hidh ab'wanath." Lillian murmured softly to herself, finishing her own prayer in a long forgotten tongue. Kwasi, at the head of the fountain, continued on, his voice a clarion call to those needing a prayer in with the Goddess, as if their belief would sustain them through this tragedy. Heh. Belief, however, was a fickle thing she well knew. She brushed her wheat-colored curls (that had snapped free from their usual bindings during the early morning attack) off her shoulders to drape across the back of her ruined, smog-stained dress. Her dark blue eyes glinting a quiet, sadness in their depths.

Lillian had begun to rise as Haru's gentle, persistence touched her shoulders briefly with the tips of his fingers to get her attention. She acknowledged him by raising her head to meet his eyes, listening to his words. Yes, she consented silently to herself, it was time they got moving then. "Of course," She hummed aloud in agreement, without a lick of dissent that some Warriors and even a few Guardians somehow deemed necessary to show to Haru. It was wasted breath or movement, as far as she would have been concerned.

Shortly, Lillian made her way purposefully to where her month's charged was 'resting' after the decidedly strenuous task to attach a make-shift splint to a still severely swollen leg (the swelling still hadn't allowed them to set the broken bones, but the splint would help him move without causing further harm to the injury, more or less) a mere hour before. Helping him stand with the help of the newly arrived guardian, Nikita, and directed his staggering hobble closer to everyone else to be apart of the meeting; easing him to sit down near the edge of the collected group on a spare blanket (or probably an unfortunately now dead persons tattered old coat) that had been wrapped around his shoulders in the early parts of the morning, when shock had made his internal temperature go hay-wire for a time.

Falke had a rough morning. Hell, technically everyone had; what with the fire that had destroyed much of the Academy and caused injuries abound, the betrayal of some of the Academy's own and finest, and the bodies of the dead stacked and wrapped up much like cord-wood fresh on people's minds - rough may have been a bit of an understatement.

The simple 'walk' over had caused a pale flush to rise across his cheeks and brim of his nose, and his bottom lip trembled unsteadily with each breath - nearly in time with shooting sparks of displeased or displaced nerves whenever a muscle spasm hit or a adjusted the broken limb. His eyes seemed hollow, but were alert, as he viewed his surroundings blearily and listened to the conversations. It was remarkable really that he didn't have a tear stain tracked on his face or had cried out more than the one time the splint was being put on (and then, he'd had enough cotton stuffed in his mouth, to only make a sound akin to a depressed, agonized goat) by another Guardian, Bryce.

The broken leg was hopefully a clean break and would heal relatively quickly once properly set, he'd been told. However, the additional knowledge of finding far worse damage once the swelling went down was always a disheartening possibility - of which, given the context of the situation of having to travel down the mountain (walking, oh joy, or a riding a horse, maybe a little better, but likely not), to get to some port, and getting on a boat to travel to the RK to be tested and hopefully he was up and rearing to go by then, broken limb or not, frankly... He felt a little nauseous. But... He understood that they couldn't stay here, and thus his silence spoke his agreement.

"I will see if a spare mount can be found to help those who need it, to help us get to the port quicker..." Lillian spoke up, a usually silent party, from her spot at Haru's left. Her odd lit twittering breezily across her tone. Her wide glance specifically seemed to pause the most on her own charge and Tallyho too, who had suffered a pretty small but steady amount of blood loss over time and it would be safe to say had the highest chance of fainting, pitching over, and falling; but Harper and Skylar also were spared a moment of attention with their own separate ankle injuries seemed a probable enough need to be watched, and helped if necessary on the journey ahead - before moving on to Mr. Vo and Kwasi arrived and spoke.

Lillian dipped her head shortly in a mixture of respect and farewell to them both, before moving away from the group to do as she said she would do. Briefly whispering to them, "May the one be with you," and squeezed their hands, young and old, lightly as she departed to search for a spare mount that had been caught - but wasn't being used to shuttle medical supplies or helping clean out the rubble of the destroyed buildings.

Dorian Roberts, for all of the trials and tribulations he'd experienced in the past three years as well as the admittedly difficult cards he'd been dealt in early life, considered himself to be a very lucky young man. He was alive, for one, which was more than he'd expected at the beginning of this journey. On a less broad note, he wasn't too terribly lonely either, even if he still longed for figures that now only existed in his life by virtue of a thin piece of technologically advanced plastic. He was fed well, training was still hard but no longer to the extent where extracurriculars meant trying not to fall into an exhausted sleep on his dinner, and outside of his duties at the Academy, he had free reign so long as he didn't manage to wander off the mountain again(no one had quite believed him when he'd said his sense of direction was bad until he'd ended up in a village some two miles from the mountain the Academy was located on).

That was not to say that bad things didn't happen to him. He might have been attempting to see things in a kinder light, but he was a realist at heart and there was no simply writing off the bad, even when considering the good. He was still on a foreign planet, still trapped into a destiny he still didn't quite believe in, still had no choice but to fight or die. But, still, he had some luck in that everything could be much worse. So maybe it wasn't luck? Maybe it was just the absence of terrible luck that left him alive and relatively well?

It was that luck-not-luck that apparently found him staring at the burning Academy from the tree line, lured back from a nightly stroll to the higher peaks in a fit of insomnia by flames visible even from a great distance, licking at the sky and the overwhelming stench of smoke polluting the clear air. He didn't know what he expected as he hurried back- a bonfire, perhaps, or a stupid mistake by one of the students that would be taken care of in a flash- but it wasn't what he found. The Academy was burning, no building spared by the merciless flames that continued to spread, eating hungrily away at anything that wandered too close. The smoke clogged his lungs, but his reactions were broken and too slow, memories shared not only by himself but millions of other New Yorkers and visitors and volunteers bubbling to the surface. It was never the sight of fire that bothered him, nor the intense heat that it exuded, a threat of pain and more than mild discomfort, but instead the way it invaded the other senses so thoroughly.

The smell- oh, the smell of burning wood wasn't too bad, but the intense stink of burning flesh and hair that intermixed with the fumes invaded his nose and settled on his tongue leaving a macabre taste to cling and coat the inside of his mouth, intermingling with the wood smoke. The noise was the worst, however, the sound of crackling flames promising the collapse of buildings, shrieks of agony, of panic, of fear, of anger from humans and animals alike intermingling into an all too familiar audio that had haunted his childhood dreams for weeks and weeks.

"Move!" Dorian was forcefully jolted from his reverie as a strong hand gripped his shoulder, launching him out of the way as part of the library collapsed on the area he'd just been standing in in a flurry of flickering flames now dancing across the grass and splintering wood slowly transforming to ash beside his feet. His gasp of surprise transformed almost instantaneously into a coughing fit, but the hand never left his shoulder, moving him steadily away from the burning building, never once letting him stop. It was easier to breathe in the courtyard, but being surrounded by the flaming buildings, held in the eye of the storm with sobbing, wounded people trying to comprehend the same shocking sight was no easier mentally. His rescuer- a random male student with thin blonde hair left him there, shoving through the crowd towards a similarly unfamiliar student, a girl clutching her bleeding arm, that he pulled gently into his arms. The girl collapsed almost instantly, clinging almost violently to Dorian's unknown savior.

This was a sea of strangers, strangers he'd lived with for three years but never managed to meet or know apart from the month warriors dotting his surroundings and the few familiar faces, elite or otherwise, moving around. They'd lived here, learned here, eaten here, trained here for longer than Dorian himself in most cases and now it was burning around them when mere hours ago everything had been as calm and tranquil as a night at the Academy could boast. It occurred to Dorian that he was in shock, trying to pay attention to small details instead of the whole picture because there was simply nothing he could do for anyone. The Academy was a lost cause, a thought that hit him with some force, and it would soon be wholly engulfed, eaten away by the ravenous inferno. It wasn't his home, not really- he was a visitor, a guest having long since overstayed his welcome, but grief still welled up within him because he still felt like it was his in some way, shape, or form, or at least close enough that seeing buildings crumble, hearing the shrieks of pain from the ox's stables, seeing tears streak down the faces of people he considered far stronger than himself was like a physical pain.

"March Warrior." Only one person in the Academy still stood by that formality, the magician battling his way through the crowd to appear at his side, a struggling Mori held in a tight grip by the wrist. They were transformed in the trauma and the light of the flames devouring their home. Liam's face held none of its usual amiability, tightlipped, face streaked with ash. Mori was no better, tracks of tears that still flowed as he struggled in his older friend's grip staining his cheeks, white cheeks uncharacteristically red due to the sheer heat surrounding them.

"You will watch him. You will not let him go. He is not to leave your sight." The order was hissed, only barely audible in the commotion as the young genius was thrust into his arms. Dorian grabbed him instinctively and, while Mori was not physically strong, still grimaced as the young man thrashed.

"Liam, no! No, I need to come with you! Dae, Ryou, Ji Na, Ben- they're all still out there! It's not fair, I can-!" The protests were cut off by a sudden flurry of movement and the sharp and distinctive noise of a hand meeting flesh. Mori stopped his struggles, one hand going to his stinging cheek as Liam- polite, cheery Liam- glared down at him, harsh and unrelenting.

"You cannot!" He snarled, each word ferocious and biting. "You will get in the way and get yourself killed, so stop being selfish and stay!" With that, the magician disappeared, throwing himself back into the fray of the few people still struggling to save the Academy, or if not the Academy, at least one more life. Mori started sobbing again, the shock of the sudden blow wearing off, and it occurred to Dorian- horribly and suddenly- that the youngest elite had a photographic memory. This was now burned into his mind, never to leave, never to fade but to stay as vivid as it was right now. He pulled the sobbing child to him, blocking his view as best he could. It was the least he could do, even if all he wanted to do was cry as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ryou was by no means an overly modest man- he took pride in many of his accomplishments, real and imagined(all real, he'd argue, until someone reminded him that he couldn't really be Lord of the Dance or King of the Jungle, even if he did tend to introduce himself as such when drunk). But if you caught him in an introspective moment and asked him what exactly he was most proud of, it would be his children. He adored all of the students that passed through his Academy, young and old, but he held a special place in his heart for those that he'd raised personally. His beloved Ji Na, as delicate looking as a porcelain doll and twice as beautiful and with a strength and knowledge that made her so endearing. Ben, gruff and tough as a bear on the outside, but, to Ryou, as sweet as honey on the inside. Now Karma with her endless energy and endearing antics. They were flawed- of course they were(if Ji Na ever though he didn't notice the distinct odor of her brand of relaxation in her room, she had another thing coming). Still, they were his children, brought up by him for better or for worse, his pride and joys proving themselves every day to be the greatest things that he'd ever done.

Which is why no one, absolutely no one, could imagine what went through his mind as Ji Na and Ben slowly approached the bastard who'd burned down their home, who'd caused the deaths of their students, friends, classmates, and his cast of monsters, not to kill him, not to attack, but to join him alongside Kat- independent, beautiful, amazing Kat- faces emotionless, without pain. He froze mid run, caught in the shadows of an already toppled building. Their words were lost on him, lost in the hurricane of thoughts flickering through his mind, lost in his own internal screams. He'd lost his home, his students, and now his children, his children in the same night. Where was the Ji Na he knew, who'd scolded him gently every time he leaned over to boop her nose during a meal even as a child? Where was the Ben whose every boo-boo and scrape he'd taken care of as a child with a bandage and a kiss?

'Help!'

That wasn't them. It couldn't be them, that was ridiculous. Ji Na and Ben and, yes, even Kat, would never just… Do this, whatever this was. They were proud individuals, strong and true, they would never- they could never-

'Help!'

This wasn't happening- it was a nightmare, it had to be. Academies don't just burst into flame, super villains didn't just stream out of the woodwork, children don't just betray their parents-

'I need Help!'

It was a trick, wasn't it? Yes, that must be it. Any moment now, Ben would pull the string of his bow, Ji Na would unsheathe some hidden blade and strike, avenge their home and their family.

'Goddess, please!'

But they stayed there, mouths moving in some incomprehensible language, hidden by his shrieking thoughts. His home was gone, his family- his family was gone. Gone, gone, gone- they left him, they weren't dead, they just left him. Was it his own fault? Had he done something? He must have done something, that had to be it because people don't just- They don't just-

"RYOU, HELP!"

That plea wasn't in his own mind, it couldn't be. He turned suddenly to see the last of the Girl's dormitory begin to crumble under its no longer solid framework. Stragglers flooded out of the door, infinitely less secure because a beam had already fallen, flaming like the rest of the structure, and was being held up as the last girl ran to the relative safety the grounds provided, held up by… By Dae. The flames licked at his body, burning cloth and flesh alike, but he was stuck in the trap of his own making while attempting to let them free. It was his bellowed plea that had broken the spell.

He was torn, only for a moment. He could go now, could untangle these lies and confusing revelations by demanding answers from his children, or he could save someone already struggling to save others, who hadn't left their compatriots behind. He hated himself, oh, Goddess, how he hated himself. He turned and ran, to save the person that he still knew, who hadn't just become a stranger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes, the light of day is more of a curse than a blessing. The fire had finally died out, consuming all that it could before vanishing into smoldering ashes and into the ruins of the buildings that they all had once visited, walked through, slept in, lived in. The cruel sun exposed the reality, harsh and unrelenting without the darkness and the pale, more merciful glow of the moon and stars to hide away the worst of it. It was still quiet, however, the natural noises surrounding them all but gone. No birds sang, no animals made their way through the foliage, no pleasant and inconsequential chatter among the students. Prayers rained supreme and quiet, solemn conversations intermingled with sobs from those that still had tears left to shed and still other's tiny sounds of pain, gasps and light whines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dae, stop."

"Dae, please. You're already injured."

"So?"

"So? So, my dear, you're making it worse by sifting through the rubble."

"No, they're making it worse."

"They?"

"Them. Didn't you see them? Trying to- trying to find bodies and- and take care of everyone. They're making it worse. They don't even know any of their names, and they're acting like-"

"Like they care about them?"

"I know it sounds selfish, I know- Liam, I just… I just want our friends to be found and taken care of by people they know. We owe them that, something personal. They're not corpses to be found- that's Camilla, she was going to marry that baker's son. I found Tai earlier, in the library. All of them deserve to be mourned because the world lost amazing people, not just because they happened to die."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dorian, while not medically trained, spent his time trying his best to patch up wounds, wrapping bandages around the least severe of the injuries. Without searching, his immediate fears for his teammates were alleviated simply because none of their bodies were displayed with the others, and their wounds were either mild enough or their pride too powerful so that they never made their way over to the impromptu medical station. Mori had stayed by his side, uncharacteristically quiet, not that Dorian blamed him, apart from occasionally rattling off medical advice absorbed by reading and observation in a dull, hollow sort of voice. It wasn't until the rest of his trio returned did he finally perked up, racing over to Dae and flinging his arms around his middle. Neither of the elites looked themselves, for very different reasons.

Dae was covered in soot and ash, already rough hands covered with streaks of blood and dirt, and although his body was wrapped in Liam's cloak, blistering burns were visible creeping up his neck, otherwise hidden away by the fabric. Liam, on the other hand, finally exposed what had always been beneath the cloak- black pants and a black tank top revealing large, swirling, black rune-like tattoos covering the entirety of his torso, stopping only at his wrists and curling partially up his neck.

"Haru's called for you," Dae croaked, tired green eyes settling firmly on Dorian, already raspy voice gone to Hell in the aftermath of smoke inhalation and screaming. Dorian nodded, not trusting himself to speak, as he followed behind the three. It felt wrong to see them like this, to look upon the picture of a broken family- and, indeed, they were a family if Liam and Dae's interlocked hands and the tender way Dae stroked Mori's hair with his free hand meant anything.

They joined the exhausted group, some holding up quite well and others teetering on the edge of a meltdown. Some were injured, apparently having found medical help elsewhere, and others were fine or as fine as they could be. The solemn gathering was ultimately shattered, however, with Harper's arrival, spitting out angry words that had no place being heard by these people who had just been betrayed. Dorian liked Harper, of course he did, and maybe this was just his way of dealing with trauma or something, but he wasn't stupid, he knew it was without tact.

Dorian's eyes flickered to his three guides, noticed the way Mori scooted further back as if by surrounding himself by the knight and the magician, he'd be safe, how Dae shut his eyes for just a moment too long, how Liam's unblinking gaze set firmly on Haru, unwilling to waver form the man with a plan, as his grip tightened on Dae's hand to the point of appearing painful. Kyle was the only one who moved to do anything and he was stopped by the appearance of his own guardian, a newcomer untainted by the night's events. Dorian couldn't look at her, didn't really want to look at the casually amused way she took them all in as if bodies weren't lined up in the ruins of the dorm, ready to be buried or sent home to their families. Again, no tact, but now without the excuse of an emotional night to chip away at sensibilities and courtesy that Dorian had given Harper's outburst. Dorian coughed and for once he didn't know if it was his own mild attempt to clear away just how awkward he found the situation or if it was form the smoke inhalation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"As long as students wish to learn at my Academy, I see no reason for it to be shut down." The sudden appearance of Ryou was enough to surprise even the most taciturn member of the little meeting. He looked like he'd gone through Hell, body streaked with sweat, blood, and ash, golden eyes without their usual mirthful glint, clothing tattered from a lack of attention as he'd spent every waking hour busying himself with something, anything to help. But he was solid, together as he cradled Karma in his arms like a delicate flower, one hand idly combing tangles from pink tresses.

"Mr. Vo… Kwasi…. I would be honored if you would help to rebuild and restart the Academy. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have here, building our home." His tone was solemn, respectful as if they had just offered him something sacred. He clasped hands with each of them, even pulling Mr. Vo into a tender one-armed hug, careful of the small body in his arms.

"I've already talked to the students- some will be heading home, but most want to stay, so you'll both have more than enough help. And so will we." He glanced at the only remaining elites who nodded their heads. Their home had been burned down, their friends and students killed. Their place wasn't here, not right now, but with their leader to find answers and hopefully revenge.

"Haru, I'm ready to go."

Ondine was restless as she approached. She had taken down many a trading ship such as this in her pirating days. She hadn't seen her own ship in too many years to count. And boarding any ship without being in command of it always left her uneasy.

Harper, while starting the voyage off with his usual grumbling and conversation with Skylar, peppered with the occasional pirate joke in reference to his bad foot (which had required all of Ondine's willpower not to amputate the leg in question on the spot), had dwindled off into uncharacteristic silence. He had also slowed in pace, and indeed, the two were some of the last to board. However, it was clear from his labored breathing and grimacing with each step that Harper's hesitance and silence was from pain, rather than any past nostalgia. Ondine nearly had to carry him the last few rungs of the ladder onto the actual ship, and by then he was looking very pale.

"Who knew...that...tridents..." Harper wheezed out, "would make....such bad...crutches..."

"Why don't you sit?" Ondine suggested, worried that he might pitch over. The way he was holding the trident suggest a possibility that he might accidentally stick himself with the prongs.

"And miss...the grand...tour?" Harper asked through breaths, and somehow managed grin. He stood up straight, stretching his back, "I'll sit...when I find the beds..."

Ondine hovered, making sure he didn't fall and keeping an eye on him while she herself examined the ship with judgmental eyes. Fancy handiwork, but in the heat of battle, she was certain her own ship would crack through without much issue.

When they finally reached the sleeping quarters, Harper was first to claim a bed, hobbling over to the farthest corner, dumping his trident unceremoniously between the wooden trunk and the wall and pulling himself in a most ungracious manner onto the netting and rolling onto his back. There was a brief moment of uncertainty in terms of whether he would fall off or not, as expressed in his very wide eyes and arms clinging either side, but the moment passed and the netting ceased its swinging.

With a shake of her head, Ondine left her ward to his own devices, which no doubt included a nap, and returned to the deck.

In the days to come, the deck would be where most would find Ondine, if she wasn't in the water as a dolphin, jumping and diving in and out of the water and tossing up any fish that she herself didn't want to eat. Occasionally she would also mention any large rocks or boulders to be wary of, though she always did this in an offhand, casual manner. Heaven forbid she report anything to any captain but herself.

Harper spent an equal amount of time above and below, though whenever he was above deck he was always looking out at the water wistfully, his envy of Ondine's ability undisguised. Being on this ship quickly turned into a sort of torture, being surrounded by water, but never able to swim in it. It was only a matter of hours after taking to water, though, that Harper lighted upon a compromise and hurried under as fast as his limp would let him. Pulling out his knife, he sawed away at the wooden trunk under his bed. After about forty minutes, with little progress than several scratch marks that totally marred the wood, he resorted to just jabbing with his trident. After another half hour of stabbing, he managed to slide the prongs under the bottom and, through the use of basic physics, levered the trunk up from the ground after a good fifteen minutes.

"Success!" he exclaimed, hoisting the trunk above his head, slats of wood still connected to the bolts dangling from the overall box.

With a confident, excited hobble up the stairs and onto the deck, he placed the block top down near the front of the ship, the sky a deep orange. With some effort, he raised a water pillar from the sea and hosed the ocean water into the box. He then proceeded to strip off all his clothes, with the exception of his underwear, which was still the same Speedo he had been wearing when he was first brought to this world (meticulously cleaned and maintained, mind you), and with a small splash of water, lounged in his newly-fashioned mini tub. The sight was perfectly ridiculous, the water only coming up to his upper abs, with most of his body out of the tub than in it, and the wood was scratchy and not quite smooth, no thanks to his knife-work, but if there was ever a moment when Harper would start caring, it certainly wasn't now.

In fact, as the sun set, and the melody from Titanic whistled from his lips, the ocean water still cool as a breeze swept through his fire-burnt hair, Harper felt pretty fucking majestic.

Gwen carefully unwrapped the bandages from Tallyho’s injury, conscious of where the cloth was stuck to the sensitive tissue. The wound wasn’t particularly large, but it was deep and perhaps too close to the artery for comfort. Dark blood stained both the pale skin of the injured and the healer as Gwen gently placed her hand near the gash.

Despite the past years of training, Gwen had not had much experience with more severe wounds. As her energy pulsated over Tallyho’s body, sensing the state of the young woman’s body, a soft shiver went down her body as she felt the damage. The injury itself was not the only thing of concern; Gwen had never before felt the effects of blood loss.

Additionally, a few shards glass was still embedded in Tallyho’s flesh. “Sorry about this; I’ll do what I can to dull the pain,” Gwen said, taking firm hold of the glass closest to the surface of the injury. She was firm as she needed to be without causing undo pain; at this point, she and Tallyho were connected. Gwen could sense Tallyho’s physical pain.

The glass removed, Gwen did what she could to protect the progression of the healing. She sterilized the wound first, trying to draw from her own immune system more than Tallyho’s weakened one. She then sealing the main source of the bleeding, drawing clotting agents toward the wound and creating a soft scab over the injury.

Gwen broke physical contact with Tallyho, and the energy that connected them was immediately broken. The entire process had taken fewer than a few minutes. Slightly breathless now, she took the bandages that Tallyho had gotten from Autumn and did what she could to salvage what was clean. She wound this small bit around Tallyho’s leg.

“In case the scab breaks,” she explained, eyes down. “As long as you’re gentle, you shouldn’t have any problems.” Gwen could had boosted Tallyho’s body in replenishing its blood supply, but she had a feeling that her skills would be in further demand…

Rising from where she crouched beside Tallyho, she saw burns, sprains, breaks, gashes. In some cases, she couldn’t tell whether the blood covering the others was their own. As Ryou and Haru and a woman stranger talked among themselves, she couldn’t help but be drawn to hunched figure sitting at the edge of the group, a rough splint made around his grossly swollen leg.

Gwen could sense the pain of Falke’s injury--perhaps just by way of normal human sympathy--by merely looking. When the group reached the consensus that they were leaving, Gwen couldn’t stand the thought of him traveling in such a state. He was pale as death already.

With a swift, and perhaps abrupt movement, she was at Falke’s side. Perhaps he already knew it was her by means of his ability; perhaps he was in too much pain to use it. She spoke softly. “You’re in no condition to travel right now. I can’t set the bone or heal the break, but I can help, if you let me…”

Falke’s powers had not been working since being abruptly awoken in the middle of the night, or likely had simply shriveled out with the overload of thoughts and emotions that had been relatively off the charts given the circumstances at hand; but it wasn’t hard to tell, without any supernatural help, with the swift, abrupt movement that someone had arrived at his side. He knew it was Gwen before she ever spoke, however, more so due to the sound of her tread – one of the softest, and most precise of the group as whole – but in turn also the scent of her or whatever she’d happened to have last wash her hair in (he would never admit it out loud that everyone smelled different, and truthfully, it wasn’t his fault with the sudden fresh air wafting past his nose at her arrival’s movement) mixed with fire and smoke.

“You’re in no condition to travel right now. I can’t set the bone or heal the break, but I can help, if you let me…”
His eyes snapped into bleary focus, and purposefully tilted his head to regard her evenly for a moment. Gwen had always been… Distant, was the best word he could describe it. But their relations over the years had always been something of neutral respect, not even quite acquaintances, and definitely not friends, but a shared dignity of silence and quiet. In regards to either of their powers discussed between the other, it wasn’t nor had ever been a priority – perhaps more accidental secrecy, or not being ‘close’ to even bring it up in idle conversation.

She was the ‘Healer’, however. She might have been just feeling comfortable to show a bit of what she could do to a few, select people to aid, instead of just herself. Or given her abilities potential, could feel his pain as a second nature to her own. Or… She could just look at him, and feel normal human sympathy at his current condition – that was supposed to be travel ready enough. Huh. He felt faint already thinking about it himself.

“That would be fine,” Falke agreed slowly, however, felt the need to warn her, “… Break off, if you can’t handle the connection.” A given really because he didn’t know if his power would jump into being a nuisance for himself, let alone her; or by her already heavy breathing, she may well be straining herself additionally helping him, if she needed a rest – he wouldn’t fault her on it.

Uneasily, he shifted his weight unto his good side and offered his free hand meekly in offering. Whether or not she took it, or grabbed closer or on the grossly swollen leg in question itself to be closer to the injury, it didn’t matter – there had been physical contact one way or another. His shoulders went rigid with tension, and teeth gritted tightly together absently in response to it.

He wasn’t in pain from her actions, and generally believed she was helping one way another – whether by easing the pain or swelling, limiting his nervous systems extremely expressive reaction, something, he wasn’t clear on – but more so that his powers finally decided to come back full swing. For a moment, his mind barriers had been completely hosed; her mind’s everything violently mismatched between his own thoughts, feelings, and memories. It took most of the time of the contact, to simply remove the two into their own separate places and resume the ‘wall’.

He didn’t doubt an accidental thought or two, even maybe a memory of his own, may have strayed into her head before he was able to right things with weary, pained determination. If she questioned it later, he could respond with an apology he supposed? Or, well… At least Tallyho hadn’t ever seemed to mind it, and made it a regular habit to torment him with /Fluffy Bunnies/ whenever she ‘playfully’ bashed his shoulder or smacked his arm. So, an apology would have to do, he supposed, if she even noticed or complained about it in the first place. He would come to it, if it came…

Falke could still feel her minds’ chittering whirlwind numbly, even after she removed her contact. “Thank you.” He mused, softly; tired and dejected, but grateful. Relaxing his tightly clenched muscles in shoulders and jaw line, with a look crossing his features and inward feeling (hopefully unimagined) of relief.

Lillian returned empty handed. No horses had been caught yet that weren’t being used or had been calmed down enough yet to be useful. She aided, Nikita in making a rough stretcher; as uncomfortable shifty manufacture of limited time and supplies as it looked, it was just as uncomfortable to ride in – Falke could testify for, after being loaded unto it, and ferried down the mountain towards the port.

---

It had been a long day thus far…

Falke had been dumped in the infirmary shortly upon arriving. Exhaustion, pain, and boredom of not having better to do (or perhaps simply being completely left alone); allowed him to finally be able to crash into a deep slumber. Whether or not people joined him in the room, after the tour around the ship ended, he wasn’t aware – the rest was nice, even if he was dead to the world for a few hours.

It was nearing the end of the first day, when Byrce returned to wake him, checking the swelling had finally gone down enough to properly set a proper splint on his broken leg. With the taste of the wooden dowel and imagining splinters in his tongue, the event hadn’t been as traumatic as it could have been. His dignity was intact, and the limb was more or less stable and beginning the healing process. Oh, whoopee?

…

“Wha' ra'rros ho sau, llha' oamos hoa a as shaagh…”

Lillian sang out loud, twisting the unrecognizable words with a softly solemn, quiet lilt of her accent – that made her musical accent seemed to have finally found a language that it fit properly around. She was on deck, a secluded corner, sitting with needle and thread and cloth in her lap. Her hands kept busy as she worked with quick efficiency with some still soft but older cloth she’d been given – finishing up a shirt, one of the many needed, to replace those that were needed to be replaced. She was no less aware of the stares she was given by the young men and boy’s busy running on the ship, but gave them no mind as she continued on humming breezily on – about who loved the sun, who care if it would still shine, and on, and on…

Apparently this was an evening of song.
Not that all of them were completely flattering. Tallyho’s attention was stolen away from the sea, first by Harper’s latest escapade. The blonde winced at the older man who found a place at the front of the ship, he was nearly naked and trying to squeeze into, what Tallyho would consider to be, a bucket of seawater. After all these years she still couldn’t see what some of the other’s saw in Harper. One might say, “Well hey Tallyho, didn’t he teach you how to swim?” and Tallyho would say yes. Yes he did. But she couldn’t help but feel like he only did it to mend his image after his own drowning incident. Think about it. A water warrior who nearly drowned in water? How embarrassing was that? As far as Tallyho knew Harper had no clue about her near death experience either. The June warrior just happened to catch her meandering around the water one morning after his incident and shoved the skill on her. Had it been anyone else he found she was sure he would have done the same thing because hey, right place, right time.
Tallyho’s initial reaction was to turn around and go back inside. But another sound nipped at her ear drums.
“Wha' ra'rros…”
“llha' oamos…”
Tallyho flushed red. Not that she was angry but she was actually a little embarrassed…in the best way possible if that made any sense. It was like a mother bringing lunch to her child in the middle of a playdate—appreciated but adorably awkward. Surely she was just hearing things? She hadn’t heard those lyrics in ages. Perhaps they weren’t what she thought they were? Perhaps she wasn’t hearing the words correctly but somehow she found herself drawing closer to the origin of the sound. Breezing past Harper in all of his ridiculous glory then Haru and Ryou as they looked out onto the horizon. Surely this was not real?
“Wha' ra'rros ho sau, llha' oamos hoa a as shaagh…”
The lyrics rode on soft, sweet breaths. They wafted over her head and the blonde was overcome with an ethereal nostalgia. Surely this was not real? Not real? Surely? Real. This was real. The song led her and Tallyho followed. She was greeted by a vision of wild blonde hair eating all that was left of the dying sun. This felt like home. This felt like history. And suddenly Tallyho lost control of her own body. She too began to follow the song, her tongue bouncing on the melodies until she let loose a few incoherent hums, the kind that little girls use when they want to sing along with the adults but don’t quite know the words to the song. She did this until she felt hat she could reach back far enough into the cupboard of her life and retrieve the jar of lyrics that were caramelized in time, not quite up to par with what they used to be but recognizable enough.
“Wha' ra'rros… Wha' ra'rros…”
Who was Tallyho singing to? Who was this woman? No matter how close Tallyho moved to the figure she didn’t feel like she was close enough.
“How do you know this song?” she croaked out to her, a small cog of desperation lodged in her throat.

What happened next was a flurry of motion and information that Dorian quite frankly failed to comprehend. The lack of sleep from the night before began to dawn over his body, leaving him in a dazed state as the dwindling energy from what was quite possibly the longest adrenaline fueled night of his life finally dissipated. He hardly batted an eye as Falke was shanghaied by the apparent captain in a makeshift stretcher, gave the newest guardian's speeches on how they were a "crew" now (despite the fact that the whole team concept had already been thoroughly drilled into their young minds for the past three years) all of the attention he thought it deserved which was apparently none, and simply gave up on the idea of even pretending to memorize the large ship's layout, resigning himself to getting lost each and every time he left the sleeping rooms or dormitory or berth or whatever they were calling it now. Names only slightly stuck in his mind while titles did a better job of lingering in his thoughts- doctor, first-mate, captain (although, for all of her reassurance that she was in fact in charge, Dorian still held her position firmly under both Haru and Ryou in his mental hierarchy). This may be her ship, but she hadn’t been keeping him alive for the past three years, hadn’t plucked him from the brink from Hell.

She was gone now, leaving them to make sense of what had just happened, to nurse their wounds both visible and hidden away, and Dorian found himself at a loss for just a moment. It only lasted as long as it took for the first person, Harper unsurprisingly, to hoist themselves into the netting before others began following suit, the sleepless night behind them just now sinking in to their weary bodies. Dorian climbed into a hammock of his own, grimacing lightly as the netting dipped with each movement, unnerved by the fact that he was being held aloft high above the floor. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not really, but it was too different, too new to being even close to actually comfortable.

He laid there for a time, eyes shut, body shifting every moment or so as he struggled to find a comfortable position, but he felt like he was trapped in the rope bed as opposed to cradled in it and despite his exhaustion, sleep evaded him. Eyelids fluttering open with a tiny, exasperated sigh, he turned instead to see how everyone else was doing in the room. The beds had been kinder to others, already drifted off from the land of consciousness, but others lingered like him. Only two nets over was Ryou, golden eyes staring blankly at the wooden sky above him, Karma cradled in his arms. One hand was moving in an automatic, unconscious gesture of threading gentle hands through her pink locks, the other wrapped around her body, holding Karma to him like a favorite teddy bear. Dorian could hear if he really listened a lullaby foreign to his own ears but nevertheless recognizable in its soothing tone being hummed only for the child in Ryou’s arms. Some had foregone beds entirely, like the only remaining Academy elites huddled close together on the floor, the nets too small to comfortably fit all three and Dae’s back too damaged to be comfortable pressed against anything. Mori had fallen asleep on Dae’s lap, curled into a tight ball, and the knight’s head rested on Liam’s shoulder as the magician whispered words too quiet to be overheard, a secret just for them. Dorian turned away, feeling suddenly like an intruder on the private moments, and pulled out his phone before he too was lulled to sleep by the rocking of the boat and by the unnatural low cast by the screen in his hands.


It could have been days, hours, even minutes before Dorian woke next, body aching uncomfortably from the unfamiliar bed, a light imprint of ropes on his right cheek from where he’d shifted during his nap. Still, as consciousness returned to him, he didn’t really move, instead choosing to lie still for a time and take in the changes in the room. Some people had left, either to explore the ship or to escape the forced community of the privacy lacking room. Others stayed where they had been already, like Ryou who was exactly as Dorian had last seen him, still staring blankly at the ceiling, still stroking Karma’s hair softly, but the humming had tapered off into nothing. Still others had apparently already ventured out but returned, as evidenced by the way that the three Academy students were now arranged. Liam now held a small jar of what Dorian could only assume was a burnt orange burn cream, most likely scavenged from the ship’s doctor, and was gently spreading it across Dae’s bare back as he laid on his stomach on the floor, Mori clutching tightly to his hand more for the child’s comfort than the knight’s. The damage, now open to curious eyes, was admittedly bad with great blisters and vivid burns decorating his upper back and trailing to the nape of his neck, but they were hardly the most eye-catching things about the scene. No, that honor went to the others scars, small or large, thin or deep, gouged into the knight’s back and arms like a map of tragedies and triumphs etched into the very skin. It occurred to Dorian then how little he knew about the Academy students. What kind of life had Dae lived to gain those marks? What did the black, swirling runes still visible on Liam’s body even mean? How had a small child like Mori managed to be exposed to so much information in his few years? No wonder he’d been surprised when Kat, Ji Na, and Ben had turned traitor only- no. No, that wasn’t right. He’d seen the horror in the eyes of those who knew them best. If even Ryou hadn’t suspected it, there was no way he could have known.

He slid to his feet, unsteady on the moving ship, and simply breathed for a moment before heading out of the room, not wanting to dispel the fragile peace in the room by any unnecessary goodbyes. Suddenly it felt too enclosed, too much like a trap swallowing him whole, in a way that the Academy never had. He had to move, had to find the sun and sky and clouds again so that he could breathe evenly once more. He wandered for a time, losing himself in the bowels of the ship, using the excuse of exploring to hide just how lost he was until he found the stairs leading to the deck.

The sky was a welcome sight, the fresh air, however tinged with salt, even more so. The sun had already started its decline towards the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ship. He could hear more than the creaking of planks and the quiet voices of sailors now- there was some soft tune in a foreign tongue ghosting from some unknown corner of the ship, the gentle sounds of waves lapping against the ship, and… and the Titanic theme? It wasn’t a question of whom then, but of where. He found Harper soon enough, whistling in a tub of his own design.

Apparently Harper's mission of the day had been asinine as opposed to brilliant, Dorian realized as he spotted Harper wallowing in his impromptu little tub looking absolutely ridiculous. It should have been hilarious, but it wasn't. Not really. A month ago it would have been funny. A week ago it would have been laughable. Hell, even yesterday it would have been at the very least chuckle worthy, but not today. Dorian couldn't bring himself to even work up a smile because after last night, after everything, it just wasn't funny. But it wasn't for him to confront Harper on how he ought to feel after traumatic events, wasn't his duty to announce how long everyone should be upset or grieve, and he'd learned long ago that confronting Harper about anything at all was as dangerous as walking into a lion's den at dinner time. And Dorian could play pleasant for a friend's sake, even if the sight made him want to ask how on Earth Harper was so damn cheery right now.

"How's the water?" He asked dryly, eyebrows raised. It was Dorian's own little way of showing that he wasn't sure if he should be envious of Harper's ability to let traumatic events simply roll off of him or if (when, he reminded himself, when) they arrived back in New York he should recommend him to a good therapist to diagnose acute sociopathy.


Inhale, hold, hold… Exhale, hold, hold… Inhale, hold, hold… Exhale, hold, hold…

Ryou was going to go insane.

The room was closing in around him, too small, to impossibly closed in for someone who’d lived for ages in the mountains, breathing in fresh air and always keeping a window open, even in the cold night air. And he wasn’t alone; people, people he had to keep up appearances for, surrounded him. He couldn’t break into hysteria, not now; he couldn’t show that face to those who still clung to him for support.

But he was going to go insane.

He had to get out of here, just for a while. He needed to breathe and suddenly it felt like all of the oxygen in the room was gone, his breaths short and shallow, and, no, no, not here.

His hands stopped their gentle ministrations, removing themselves gently from Karma’s now silky smooth hair, all of the tangles having been removed long ago

“Mori?”

The white-haired child looked up at him with his large, all too knowing red eyes.

“I need you to take my place. I need to-“ Need to what? To scream? To sob? To curse the goddess? To punch something until it shattered beneath his hands. “I don’t want Karma to be alone.”

Maybe desperation had bled into his voice, maybe some of the urgency welling up within him was exposed, but for whatever reason, Mori bobbed his head in a minute nod before swapping places with his teacher, easily climbing up despite his short height. Ryou planted a small kiss on the top of Karma’s head, then Mori’s, before hurrying from the room. The staircase wasn’t long, but it felt like it took hours before he was once again seeing real light, the light of day instead of the artificial flames of lamps below deck. He didn’t stop, however, until he reached the edge of the ship, hands clenching onto the railing for dear life as he stared at the horizon. Oh, Goddess. The sky was on fire as the sunset, the vivid reds and oranges from the night before painting over soothing blue, but what was worse was the promise of still darkness afterwards, of the night that remained after the great flames of the sun had vanished leaving only a disturbing, unpleasant calm.

Ryou was a carefully constructed but ultimately fragile structure of emotions barely being held together. All it would take was the slightest push before he broke, crumbling into so many pieces, dissolving like charred wood into ash. He wasn’t breathing easier and the heaviness from below hadn’t let up until he felt a hand grip his shoulder, fingers squeezing almost painfully tight, although any contact felt painful at the moment. He knew who it was instantly, a familiarity and intimacy built between two friends of the dearest sort giving him no option but to recognize the man behind him with only a simple touch. With that touch, he broke.

Rivulets of fat tears raced down his face, streaking his cheeks with water that only deviated slightly as they dipped slightly into the scar on his face, barely hesitating at his stubble covered cheeks before dripping off his chin. He was sobbing violently, shaking with a great force, and he was speaking, but not with words. No, they were sounds strung together that expressed the sorrow he felt, the sadness that no words could adequately express. Despite their height difference, he clung onto Haru, face buried in his shoulder in a last ditch attempt to not expose himself to the world he had to stay strong for, but unable to stop now that the dam had broken. It was all he could do not to collapse on shaky legs, to stand hunched and trembling as he was.

Some time later, the tears ran dry and the sobs stopped only because exhaustion didn’t allow him to tremble quite to violently. His breathing was deeper, less shallow and less frequent, but he didn’t look up. Control had come back to his tongue and finally, real verbalizations of known words appeared tumbling from his lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” He gasped, never saying what he was sorry for. Was it for wasting Haru’s time? For failing his students that had died, that he’d left behind, that he’d seen breaking just as he was now? For failing his children and friends, for not being able to see what they were doing, what they were going through?