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Xabier Sanchez

"There can always be warmth hidden in the shadows."

0 · 1,708 views · located in Aires

a character in “Birthstone Spirits: The Great Escape”, as played by Goong125

Description

Xabier Sanchez
(Pronounced Zeh-bee-air)

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Age: 17

Stone: Opal

Birthday: 31st October "El Dia de las Brujas"

Hometown: Bilbao, Basque Country,Spain
-Is on a work experience trip to America for the year

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Personality:
Sceptical to anything spiritual, hard-working, protective of people who he trusts, altruistic to loved ones, affectionate, wholehearted person.
Argumentative when provoked. (However he usually tries to keep calm and logical). Can be cowardly when faced with disappointing people he cares about deeply. He'd rather put 110% into a relationship with one person than 10% with multiple people.

(Things to note: Traumatic experiences in the past tended to make him reclusive and clingy to whoever was there for him at the time. It took years for his family to wean him off this habit. Even so, these habits could resurface under similar conditions.)

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Description:
His height is 5 ft 9.
Weight : 145 pounds
Tanned skin from years of living in the sun. He has light muscles from working on his abuela's (grandmother's) farm in his childhood.
He has a giant scar on his back from one time when he fell into a bonfire. From that day onwards Xabier has a strong fear of fire.
Hair: short, usually tousled, dark brown hair
Eyes: kind, hazel-light brown eyes
Clothes: usually wears expensive brands for good durability. Many layers of light clothing

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Background:

Xabier grew up surrounded by many traditions in his hometown in the Basque Country in Spain. He has a massive family consisting of far too many members to count.
He is intelligent academically, but only has average intelligence in street smarts.
His father is a renowned doctor who always wished for Xabier to follow in his footsteps. Because of this Xabier works part time in the local hospital as a male nurse. Since his father wants him to be a high class doctor, no expense was spared for his education,thus his English is pretty good. (Spanish and Basque are his first languages). However, even after years of posh schooling, his spanish accent comes out whenever he gets annoyed.
He volunteers on a Saturday morning to various animal shelters since he wants a pet of his own but his mother is allergic to fur.
His father has a lot of money after scrounging and working hard his entire life. Xabier's Amá (mom) is a complete mother hen. She is a native of the Basque Country so she named all of her 6 children Basque names,instead of Spanish names after Xabier's father.

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As the oldest boy living in his mother's house, Xabier is used to looking after the little ones.
He gained a sense of responsibility from this and sometimes comes across as a wise,father-like figure to people around him. Either that or just plain stubborn.
More than anything, he wishes to protect the people he cares for, which is why he sticks with the medical career even though his dream is to cook.
He can deal with large amounts of people at once, but when he's alone he struggles badly with depression. (Though he is too stubborn to admit to it.)
Xabier's favourite time of day is dusk because it's the time when he can easily escape from the noise and bustle of his home.

When under the influence of alcohol, Xabier loses his inhibitions and speaks the way his siblings and poorer relatives usually speak.
Rapidly, loud and full of emotion. It's crazy for onlookers and embarrassing for Xabier once he sobers up.

He doesn't trust anything to do with the occult as he believes that all fortune tellers are either crazy or con-men. However Xabier's Abuela is a very spiritual lady who believes in magic and its qualities. After months of nagging at him,he promised to always wear her antique Opal brooch. She told him that it would always protect him as long as he wore it. He absolutely HATES the brooch however since it's really feminine and every time he has it on in public, he appears to be gay. He isn't homophobic, just not good with random guys flirting with him on the street. So he usually hides the brooch under a coat if he can.

This is the brooch:

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Likes:
    Cooking
    Having wild nights
    Indie music
    Iced tea
    Spoiling the people he loves
    Dusk
    Swimming
    Reading
    Dogs
    Being surrounded by people he trusts
Dislikes:
    Fire
    Betrayal
    Fortune tellers
    Dishonesty
    "Lazy Mexican" jibes
    Cats
    Loneliness
    Losing himself
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So begins...

Xabier Sanchez's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Falke der Herrscher Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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The trauma at the academy had a much more subtle effect on Gwen than it had on some of the others, at least outwardly. She had not witnessed all the reactions, but some seemed to take some time to get back on their feet. It was understandable. She had seen the crying and breaking-down, the emotions running high and vulnerable. The fire reflected in their eyes sometimes, the shadowy figure of Amber silhouetted in the smoky light. All in all, Gwen tried to stay away from it. The boat had seemed large until she needed time to herself.

She spent the first few days of the trip in the infirmary, merely watching rather than moving to help. A couple times she left to eat, presumably, but always returned within the hour to resume her vigilance. Only after everyone appeared to be improved and on their way to recovery did she finally leave. She didn’t set foot in the infirmary for the rest of the journey.

Her mind was so confused. Everything had jumbled together and refused to order itself. She couldn’t tell how she felt or what she was thinking. Sadness and shock had taken root somewhere deep, but she could not pinpoint where they came from or how she could face them. She kept seeing the flames and rows of dead and injured in her mind’s eye.

Other feelings haunted her, somewhere in the chaos that was her mind. She could not rid herself of the ice-cold deadness that had filled her body upon touching the girl’s dead heart. A body so broken, so out of order, seemed a violation of the order of life. Since gaining her ability, she had become increasingly aware of how incredible the functional systems of life were, whether they be bodies or entire ecosystems. Her place in that system was to help it heal and set back in order what had fallen out of place. But she could do nothing about the dead. The feeling of a broken body she could not fix was torturous. She could touch and sense, but she was entirely powerless to manipulate the system.

She also couldn’t help reminiscing over the strange experience of healing Falke. Something had happened when their minds touched; perhaps they had undergone some sort of exchange. All she knew for certain was that there was knowledge in her head that hadn’t been there before. The entire experience made her very uncomfortable in hindsight. She had no way of knowing whether their exchange had been two-way or not; who knew what knowledge of her he now possessed? For that reason, she avoided him for the duration of their journey. Sometimes she would catch sight of him limping across the deck. Obviously his leg was still paining him. She had seen when it was set. On some level she felt bad, as though she ought to continue to heal him. Often her power was more effective in sessions, but she couldn’t bring herself to approach him again.

Even when she wasn’t able to heal other people, it was possible for her to manipulate her own bodily systems, to practice on herself. But her body had weakened from healing Tallyho and Falke, and she knew she could not ask any more of her strained system to accelerate her own healing. Additionally, she was slow to recover due to a constant mild sea-sickness. She never quite felt right onboard the ship, and too often she would end up rejecting what food she did consume.

Gwen took to ship life as some of the others did, by trying to avoid others as much as she could. Her poor health and solitary demeanor often found her sitting somewhere above deck, pale-faced and watching the constant churning of the ocean. She pushed herself to physically train as much as she could; it sometimes made her feel better and distracted her from the cold sweat and nausea. Even so, her body seemed to be withering before her own eyes. It would be difficult for others to tell through her clothes, which were, as normal, black and loosely fitted, but her waning physical abilities were more apparent.

None of this was to say that she was unaware of what the others were doing onboard. She made her way around for sure and saw plenty. She felt bad for Harper and was worried for Autumn. She monitored the injuries of those onboard, particularly Falke, and witnessed some of his and Tallyho’s dancing. She noticed Kyle’s absences during practices and his eventual reappearance. Xabier changed his appearance. She for one had never been attracted to him, but she respected him for his scars--whatever they were from.

___________________________________________________________________________

Gwen hated chaos, and chaos was exactly what Port Angels looked like as they drew into port. All the noise and color was a shock after the (frankly) monotonous sameness of the ship. Gwen still had a certain amount of wariness about going into public places where she wasn’t sure how the population would respond to her race. Before they docked, she proceeded below decks and retrieved a cloak from her bag that she often reserved for such situations. She braided her dark hair back and out of the way. At a glance, she might be mistaken for a mildly-featured prepubescent boy.

The city smelled like blood to her. Not like death or destruction, though; far from that. Perhaps it was just her imagination.

Gwen spent what little money she did have on a new gown. No one had to tell her that her over-sized shift, which had served as her nightgown previously, would not be considered presentable. When she donned her new clothing, it was, surprisingly, probably the first time in the past three years that anyone had seen her wear color. The dress was a pastel blue-gray, hemmed a few inches above her ankles. She hadn’t realized that it would reveal her earth-native combat boots; she wasn’t good at clothes. A strand of ribbon was tied around her torso beneath her breasts and above her hips, pulling the otherwise flowy fabric to her body and roughly defining her waist. The outfit soon vanished beneath her dark cloak.

The carriage ride once more aggravated the seasickness Gwen had been suffering from on the ship, but she was hardly glad about their reason for dismounting. Given her past issues with authority figures, it took all her willpower and perhaps a shove from someone else to make her bow to this “Harbringer.” She coldly surveyed the silhouette in the box as it passed.

By the time they reached the inn, Gwen was feeling much better than she had since leaving the academy. Often the sickness would leave her feeling weak, shaking, and sweating, but that feeling had finally passed, hopefully for good. She would have to be dragged back onto a boat before she ever tried seafaring again.

Surprisingly, when she saw Falke sitting in one of the bedrooms at the inn, Gwen made the decision to join him. She wasn’t sure why; perhaps his unbound leg, the exposed injury, was what drew her. She sat lightly down on the bed next to his. Her skin prickled uncomfortably, but she didn’t make any move to leave. After a moment:

“How’s the leg?” she asked quietly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn
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This was perhaps the first time on Aires that Dorian felt as if he had the advantage, which was an entirely depressing thought because who wanted to be an expert at standing in lines and warding off people trying to sell him things? Still, a life lived in New York had prepared him for this, all of those collective hours spent waiting to see movie premieres of just trying to buy a cup of tea from the local coffee house, all of the far too numerous people on the streets trying to force their wares one him, shouting excitedly or being quietly insistent. He was ready…. Ready to ignore everyone around him who wasn’t an immediate threat and/or Haru who was walking down the ranks of Guardians and Warriors like a military sergeant examining his men and finding them particularly lacking.

Time wore on slowly, even if the line was moving at a relatively fast pace for a line of people marching to their possible deaths. The imposters, and they had to know they were imposters which made all of this the more ridiculous, ranged from the commonplace to the bizarre, some dressed like mighty heroes and heroines from grand fairytales, others in outfits coordinated around their particular gemstone, glittering brightly even indoors. He couldn’t understand what would drive a person to do this, to attempt a lie that had never been successfully told, and he didn’t know whether he should feel pity for them or disgust.

Suddenly there was Haru again, stopped behind Dorian so suddenly that Dorian stumbled in surprise. The following conversation and the vendor hurrying away was all very confusing until, somewhere in Tallyho’s indignant sputtering shed some light on the situation. Oh. OH. He grimaced slightly, searching the perpetrator out in the crowd for future reference just in case he wandered this way again.

But his attention was drawn back to Haru who looked as close to a mental breakdown as Dorian had ever seen the man, sweaty, stressed, and like he was going to snap in two with all of the tension pulling on his body. While he’d been assured that the Guardians were immortal, that didn’t stop him from watching Haru as he walked away with some worry in his gaze because, with the way the day had been going, he was more sure than ever that Haru was either going to kill someone or his heart was going to give out. Ryou seemed concerned as well, from what Dorian could see, golden eyes never once leaving the pacing redhead as he continued walking his lap up and down the line.

Things settled back down with Haru gone and it was all Dorian could do to pat Tallyho’s shoulder reassuringly and then they were waiting again.


The trepidation grew with each movement forward, anxiety welling up in Dorian in a way he both hoped wasn’t happening for anyone else, for their own sanity, and wished upon ever single damn one of them because he didn’t want to feel alone in all this. Things would change, after this meeting, in ways that he knew could never be described as “good”. They could be executed like that group they’d heard about some months ago, or they could be accepted which could only mean more trials and tribulations ahead. Not that he would be complaining because, you know, he would be alive and this much closer to not only saving two planets but also to going home.

Suddenly they were there, standing before the double doors that opened with a blast of stale air, too warm, too still for anything good to be happening in the room. The woman who ushered them in was so blasé about it all, joking like she hadn’t sent plenty of imposters to their deaths before and held no qualms in sending a few more. Well at least she seemed to be having fun in her job. That was more than anyone else could say lately. And then, quite suddenly, they were inside, the doors closing forcefully behind them.

The room was stuffy, the still air only moved by the occasional inhale and exhale of the room’s occupants, but it was beautiful in that reverent, powerful way that all churches held. This room in particular reminded him of cathedrals he’d visited with the gorgeous stained glass windows surrounding them. He looked around, looked at the others, looked at the floor, looked anywhere but ahead until a great booming voice called them forward. Gray eyes rose from their last line of sight- Ryou’s tense face- to the men before him, staring at them like a jury who’d already made up their minds about the defendant and the verdict would not be pleasant. The Harbinger himself sat before them, position so casual that Dorian was filled with an unsettling wrongness. That was the last glimpse he took before his head snapped down quickly in a bow so as to mimic Haru like a child playing a game. A life or death game of follow the leader, if you will.

Haru was calling them up now and Dorian moved forward quickly before slowing his pace, trying not to look too nervous, too eager as he fell into a bow that he’d never done before, pausing there only a moment too long before retreating back into the relative safety of the line. A hand pressed softly against his back, a reminder that Ryou was here and looking out for them- perhaps even for him especially. Then they all fell into a bow again, marionettes moving as their nervous puppet master guided them.


‘Little man?’ Ryou eyes flickered upwards, a deep frown fighting to squirm its way onto lips more accustomed to grins and smiles. He could see Dorian fidget in front of him before stilling again- good boy- because those words rang sour notes through the room. Haru didn’t deserve this, not after everything he’d done, after all that he’d been through. If the world had any decency about giving people their due, Haru should be the one judging them, snorting at old fools whose holiness even a man as sinful as Ryou could call into question. He wanted to stand up, to set them straight because none of them would have their jobs without Haru, without the original month warriors Haru had assisted to many victories. But he didn’t, staying frozen in his bow, because that was the kind of leader Haru was, the kind of friend, the kind of person Ryou would follow to the depths of Hell and back. Then again, a trek into Hell might seem like a picnic in comparison to this.


”Show me something first.” The words echoed throughout the room with all the weight and heaviness they deserved, settling like a physical object over Dorian. What was going to happen now? He glanced around carefully, waiting to see who Haru chose, which is why it took him a minute to realize that Haru was looking right at him. Oh fuck.

He stood up stiffly, shuffling slightly as he inched forward before realizing that, even if he moved as slowly as a snail he’d still have to do this at some point, which was when he decided to pick up the pace, stopping directly next to Haru. The hand on his shoulder seemed to hold all of the weight of the situation in a single touch even without the whispered warning.

He was alone now standing before the Harbinger and his Cardinals, all eyes more or less on him. It was like the was the only other person in the room because he wasn’t going to get any help from anyone. Oh, God, what was he supposed to do? He wasn’t sitting on mountain peaks, wasn’t playing gargoyle in the crow’s nest where the wind was abundant, whipping and swirling around him like a puppy begging to be played with. This room was dead, the air stale and still to the point where it was stifling him. He forced his eyes not to glance backwards, not to make it appear like this was a ruse or like he was signaling anyone. No, his back faced the real Month Warriors and Guardians behind him, helpless to do anything for him. He closed his eyes and then inhaled.

Meditation, he’d learned three years ago, was a nice thing and relatively simple once you found your own method to do so. So, as he had done since the day he realized mediation was real and not a bunch of mystic nonsense that involved belief and a oneness with nature, he delved into memories. He recalled the days when he’d first even realized that his powers existed, the way that a gust of wind had nearly knocked him off his feet when he’d thrown his hands up in the air in disgust. The way it had coiled around him in the crow’s nest before trailing away to press against the sails. This was that same air that same wind, just still and ready to be guided.

The air was moving in the room now, first tiny breezes to cure the painful stillness and to breath life back into the coffin-like room. Then it morphed, elegant gusts flowing through the room. Hair fluttered in the wind, robes were moved as if tugged gently by intently by invisible hands, and it all concentrated around the boy in the center, his black clothes billowing, short strands of hair dancing ecstatically as if the air was rejoicing to have something to do, something to play with. It held for a moment, then two, then three, before it vanished suddenly, the room still and but still somehow more fresh from the air’s movement. Dorian’s eyes fluttered open as his body collapsed into a bow for lack of anything better to do, unwilling to make eye contact as he singlehandedly managed to save or, more likely than not, damn those behind him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Aria Delaine Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel
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Harper, for one, quite enjoyed life on the ship.

In fact, he quite enjoyed life in general. Especially considering how life in general was going at the moment.

Oh yeah. Things were going great.

Of course, it had taken a while. There'd been three days of confusion, hurt feelings, uncertainty...three days where smiling was hard, where everything was hard. It didn't help that he had still hoped. That almost made it worse...trying to tell himself to let go, but refusing to because what if, just in case...

Not to mention his ass still hurt from the beating Ondine had distributed. For someone who was supposed to be looking out for him, she certainly didn't hold back with the paddle.

Dorian had been one of the few to notice and care about his funk. In fact, the third day, Dorian had actually tried to tell him jokes to cheer him up. Very stupid jokes...popsicle stick jokes. But Harper had laughed at each one, especially the last one. Just the thought of Dorian trying to be funny was funny. He had mentally approved his friendship with Sadie for the umpteenth time afterwards.

And then, lo and behold. On the fourth day, He emerged. And after that day, Harper had a difficult time NOT grinning like a stupid idiot.

Not that he'd tell anyone why. They had both agreed that this thing between them had to stay secret. Besides, they both had very different circles of friends...Harper didn't even want to know what Kyle might do to him if he found out...he definitely knew the blond would hit him. At the very least.

Still, Harper was happy, even with the arrangement. In fact, it was kind of exciting. Trying to find pockets of time and space to be together, the adrenaline rush whenever they kissed in a location that wasn't entirely hidden away, the tightening in his stomach whenever he stole away to their secret room. And then whenever they were in public...the glances he'd slide to him, small innocent inside remarks that were actually inside jokes to something racier...the semi-flirtatious jests, which he had always done before, to everyone, but were now more prominent than ever, and masked the deeper implications whenever these were targeted at Xabi...yes, it was like a delicious game of tension. Of pushing boundaries. Trying to see what he could get away with before anyone caught on. And then doing something else to completely confuse everyone.

Yes, life on the ship had grown interesting indeed.

Whenever he wasn't teasing Xabi or chatting up his friends, he'd practice his abilities. Already fairly advanced in them, at least compared to some of the other warriors, his practice sessions were less about getting actual results and more on refining the results he did get, as well as amping up the scale. Besides the usual drills that Ondine would put him through, he'd experiment, working on waves, and then shaping the waves. On one stop, about a week after his leg had healed, he'd managed to successfully surf a few of his own creation. In the latter days of their travel, he'd been able to keep up with the ship, the waves rippling and pushing beneath his feet as he skipped and ran across the surface, Ondine diving in and out next to him. His newfound transport usually resulted in rocking the ship more, an unwelcome thing to the seasick.

The storms, when they happened, still proved too much for him to control. One night he had tried to tame the waves, but had nearly fallen off the ship instead. Ondine had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him back from the angry sea and dragging him back under. She had thrown him into a spare room and screamed at him, the angriest he had ever seen her. He hadn't tried it again.

~

When they finally reached land, Harper for one wished he could still stay on the boat. Well, maybe not this boat. But another boat. Just to stay on the ocean...away from other people, free to swim every day. Just him and Xabi on a yacht. Or a little house boat. In the middle of the ocean. A man could dream.

During Haru's "welcome" speech, Harper couldn't help but feel that the guardian was specifically talking to him, especially during the "please do not be a selfish ass" bit. Harper could have snorted. He'd lived in big cities his entire life. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that people tended not to care if it didn't affect them specifically. If this was New York, he could announce to everyone that they were month warriors, and the worst he'd receive would be a few judgmental glares.

Still, he wasn't very keen on hanging. And after Ondine had pulled him aside to reiterate everything Haru had said (something that the other guardians didn't do with their wards...at least that he noticed) he decided to behave...for now.

Harper actually had been one of the few guardians who had taken on jobs. Granted, they were odd jobs, that never really lasted long, and the whole working thing was mostly Ondine's idea, but he had enjoyed them. Mostly delivery things...a few metalworking gigs...blacksmith assisting and such. Being thrust below the poverty line of his own accord years ago had given him a rude awakening to just how much a dollar was worth, and he was actually quite frugal with his money. For the most part.

As such, he was able to buy his own clothes, and with some guidance from Ondine, settled on an ensemble that looked a cross between Mozart and a New World colonist..

"Aren't you getting something for yourself?" he asked Ondine as they returned to the others. She shook her head.

"Eventually," she allowed, but added under her breath, "The fashion of the Rose Kingdom has never been one I fancied, to say it politely."

Travelling to the city was a bit like travelling through time. He felt like he had somehow blue-skidoo-ed into an art history textbook...with the chapters melded together. Sadie, he knew, would love it. She actually knew the different styles. He could see her now, pointing out the Renaissance, Tudor, Rococo...

Ve Marie would have blown her mind for sure.

When they reached the inn, Harper had immediately changed into his new clothes. "I look like I belong in the Met!" he exclaimed to Ondine as he strutted about in his new garb, jacket and all. She didn't look too impressed, but he repeated the joke to everyone at dinner, particularly Dorian, who he knew would appreciate it. At the table he'd channel his inner Amadeus, acting the ever-pompous sort, and whistling small bits of Mozart's various works intermittently throughout dinner. Every so often he'd interrupt people's conversations, an urgent look on his face, only to say that the British were coming.

Although, if you asked him, he would prefer if it were the Spanish who came that night...

~

Surprisingly or not, depending on who you were and what you thought of the curly-haired ruffian, Harper was very well-behaved the next day. Haru had stressed so much on maintaining the best appearances, and Harper knew that he in particular was cause for worry. So, in an act of seeming goodwill (although, in all honesty, it was more out of spite to prove naysayers that he just chose to act like an uncivilized bum) Harper drew from his roots and acted the perfect upper-class youngun...old enough to be noticed, but too young to actually be taken seriously. When you grew up in Upper Manhattan with a corporate lawyer for a father and an heiress for a mother, with a party every weekend at least, old habits were hard to forget.

As they reached the cathedral, Harper was no longer just Harper. He was Harper C. Fields, who could tell the difference between Armani and Vuitton and took his coffee black, thank you very much. Even Ondine seemed surprised.

Harper couldn't help smirking as he stood in line next to her. "Betcha thought I'd have screwed everything up by now," he whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"It had crossed my mind," she replied quietly, hands folded in front of her dress, loosely fitted and flowing, barely appropriate, but not obnoxious, like some of the other dresses he'd seen in the audience and in line. While her voice was soft, her tone was still sharp as ever.

"Hey now," he murmured with a smile, "When Harper C. Fields needs to clean up, he stands and delivers."

"Careful now," Ondine warned, "You might have spoken too soon."

"Please," Harper said with a shrug, lifting his chin and straightening his shoulders, "I know more about this game than you think."

That was all it was, really. A game. A game of appearances, invisible walls and lines, of dos and do nots, and endless rules. He hated the game, but he knew how to play, and play it well. Haru's advice the previous night? He had lived it. For seventeen years.

When he stepped inside the large structure, it almost felt like home. The home he had run away from.

~

Harper would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little nervous during the ordeal. His nerves, he would say, were mostly attributed to the fact that everyone else seemed so damned nervous. He could feel it in the air. When Dorian was called to perform, he held his breath the entire time.

There was also the matter of staying focused. More than once he had found himself zoning out, or zoning in too much on a distant pillar. Much as his cool outward demeanor came easily, so to did his old tricks of not being bored out of his mind during the endless and dull dinner parties.

He snapped back to attention when Tallyho stood up. He followed suit. His eyes widened when he watched the Harbinger walk by, holding a small crystal. As the man passed by, Harper couldn't help realizing just how mundane his own stone was. Everyone had had such personal connections and stories with theirs...family heirlooms, prized gifts, personal treasures. Whereas he...he had found the ring in a public pool, the day he'd been whisked away.

To think he'd wanted Sadie to have it...

He tried not to imagine her in his place, standing before an old man with a glowing stone, surrounded by strangers. Well, except for Dorian.

It would have been better if he hadn't kept the ring at all. If he'd dropped it back into the pool, dramatically reenacting the last scene in Titanic...or perhaps Lord of the Rings.

Even if it meant he'd never get to know Dorian, or SKylar, or Xabi.

Well, Dorian he was certain he'd meet eventually regardless. And Skylar too, maybe. But Xabi? He hadn't been with them in the beginning...

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Talk of the flock brought him back. As collected as he seemed, though, the more he heard of what the flock entailed, the more worried he grew. Yes, he had fought cyclopeans before, but only singularly. And in a contained environment. This was true for all of them. How the hell...

And then this talk of wards of the state? He thought they believed them! What with the glowing stone and...had he missed something while he was zoning out?

His face stayed a mask, albeit a cracking one, as they were ushered outside, Haru assuring everyone to trust him. Right.

If they were going to end up hanged, Harper was going to sue.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn
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#, as written by rikura
Travelling on a boat was definitely something Jason was not used to, but after what had happened at the academy, he really didn't care that simply walking across the deck tended to feel like he was walking drunk.

In only a few seconds, the entirety of his time at the academy and the event that devastated their group would occasionally flash through his mind. It started all the way from when he received his twin daggers with black hilts and long curved blades. They seemed to match his ring as they somehow reminded him of scorpions, though that didn't make sense to him because the last time he checked, Jason was a Leo... not a Scorpio. Letting that little fact pass without much thought, his mind would drift to their journey to the academy. Well, to Harper screaming bloody murder during their cart ride. Personally, he thought it had been hilarious, worrying, and annoying all at the same time. From there his mind would skim through meeting Ji Na, Karma, Kat, and everyone else at the academy. He remembered the first time he "trained" with a Cyclopean during a cage fight, gaining a smidge of understanding regarding Harper's panicked reaction to the cart ride.

The flashes continued until the night of the event. That night he'd been woken up by screaming, opening stinging eyes to a black cloud of smoke. With a sense of urgency, he and his two doppelgangers tried to get as many people safely out of the flames as possible. He arrived at the field where his fellow warriors and the rest of the survivors were gathering just as Amber revealed himself. Then his comrades, some of the friends he'd come to trust during his time at the academy, betrayed them. Chaos. Everything had been chaos, and he could almost hear the 'switch' in his mind that signaled him disconnecting and distancing himself from the situation and general reality.


For a while afterwards, the warrior didn't know how to respond to the others; With the apparent mental and emotional shock of the event. The academy being destroyed, being betrayed by people he'd thought of as comrades and friends, the physical wounds and death, seeing the other warriors and guardians distraught... This wasn't something he could brush off as nothing. He couldn't tell everyone not to worry, not to take everything so seriously, that things weren't really that bad, because they really were that bad. He couldn't ignore the reality of the situation this time. Worse, he couldn't help but feel he could have done more, should have done more, to prevent some of the injuries. Some of the deaths. His way of coping with life, however, was never taking serious things very seriously. Emotionally disconnecting from heavy situations, and sometimes people. He was simply confused about how he should react and respond to the others and to the situation as a whole.

With that in mind, training with his doppelgangers and with his long twin daggers became somewhat of an obsession throughout their voyage. It wasn't a secret to anyone that Jason wasn't the strongest or most aggressive guy in the group. He'd never been too keen on any of the training they'd done back at the academy, so his sudden obsession would appear extremely radical and out of character to anyone. It helped him put his thoughts into order, though, and after the event it's an understandable change. Balance, control, speed, fluidity, stealth, aggression, agility, coordination; He wanted to improve on everything so that maybe next time, he wouldn't turn out to be so useless. Maybe next time, the sufferings and the deaths... they wouldn't be so great.

At the same time, though, the past was the past. What happened happened and that would never change, no matter how much one dwelt on it. Life had taught him that when you can't control particular events, all that's left is to move past them as best you can. With his way of thinking, Jason opted to stay optimistic in front of the other warriors in an effort to lighten the mood on the ship. His efforts didn't seem to have much effect, though. Other than training, he'd spend the days doing anything he could to keep himself occupied and to keep the despairing atmosphere from affecting him too much. Conversing with whoever would give him time became a normal part of his day where he would bring up any random subject that came to mind. When no one would talk to him he'd simply talk to one of his two doppelgangers or play his own little games that more times than not got him into trouble. Apparently, using the ship's railing as a tightrope hadn't turned out to be his best idea. Watching Tallyho and some of the guys dance, however, turned out to be a "safe" distraction where he wasn't bothering anyone or doing something stupid.
---

Listening to Haru's spiel about the Rose Kingdom and how they all needed to behave, Jason shrugged, interested in whatever cultural aspects came up, but otherwise not caring. He could avoid causing trouble. He thought he could at least. His eyes slid to the loudest of his companions. Harper, however, he supposed could and maybe would land them on the chopping block.

Jason felt himself becoming almost giddy at the eccentric styles some of the people adorned themselves in. It was, to him, a comical sight, really. He had enough money for clothes, since he tended to help with chores and such at the academy, but definitely didn't have enough for anything too fancy or eccentric. He honestly didn't see what was wrong with what he was wearing, ya know, other than a few tears and stains, but he did as Haru suggested anyways. He ended up with an outfit he thought to be clown-like, but that seemed to fit in with what he saw others wearing.

Afterwards, on their walk to the inn, things were quite uneventful. Seeing the Harbinger's entourage, though, was quite an event. In his mind, quite an exaggerated event. Wasn't the guy supposed to be the religious leader or something? With how they carried themselves and with how the people responded, it seemed more like he was an emperor-king dude. Jason had in his mind to give an exaggerated flourish of a bow when they passed, but restrained himself with the thought that the others, mainly Haru, the other guardians, and Kyle, would more likely than not pummel him for stupidity. Plus he had an obvious feeling that being sarcastic towards the Harbinger would land him and the others in deep trouble.

"Nah, dip, Sherlock," he said to himself when the carriage was up and moving again. It wasn't too much longer before they arrived at the Yellow Rose, the inn they apparently were to stay at. Jason lingered in the commons area for a while, aiming to try and approach Tallyho to talk about Airian culture and such, but finding that task impossible after a loud groan escaped the girl. It probably wasn't the best response, but Jason couldn't keep a small laugh from escaping him before Lillian appeared, saying something to Tallyho, followed up by Haru. Apparently everyone was to come down for dinner. Because he was already down, Jason opted to simply join the cat guardian in waiting for the others.

Dinner was nice. Though, Jason couldn't help feeling that Haru had an ulterior motive behind the finer-than-usual dining, but shrugged it off as the cat guardian briefly said something about how tomorrow would go.

Then came the oh-so-dreaded-test-day. It didn't seem to start out too well in Jason's mind with all of Haru's picking and such. He even flinched from the cat guardian a few times. Jason really wanted to get this test over with, despite whether they passed or failed. He hated the tense and jumpy atmosphere. Haru needed to loosen up. Seriously.

Putting his hands behind his head, Jason glanced around at the ridiculous amount of people standing in line, adorned with jewels that imitated his and the rest of the month warriors'. What was even more bizarre were the vendors selling fake stones, and people actually buying them! Jason usually thinks 'to each his own" but these people were crazy. None besides his crew were true warriors, so he imagined they would all end up dead. Hundreds of people, simply for trying to imitate them. Of course, if they somehow failed, they'd be joining the fakes.

Finally, it was their turn. Jason automatically gravitated close to Kyle, who he viewed as one of his best friends since arriving in this other world. The August warrior's relaxed, somewhat annoyed demeanor shifted to something uncomfortable and bothered in the presence of the Harbinger. He felt something... off here, though he couldn't put his finger on it. He glanced around quickly before following Haru's example of bowing his head. Jason found himself becoming fidgety in this place. As the others hurried forward, Jason followed suit. He could feel scrutinizing eyes, and it took everything not to glance up at them again. Before he could entertain the thoughts of Haru choosing him to do anything, Dorian stepped forward, his powers activating as gusts filled the room. Jason held his breath until the show ended. He stood as the others stood, and kept his eyes on his ring as it glowed, apparently passing the stone test.

The August warrior felt relief, his relaxed demeanor returning, only for a moment though. He stiffened as the flock was mentioned and explained. Woah, woah, woah. Hold on, partner. Sure training had become an obsession for him in recent months, and he wasn't bad at fighting those monsters, but they were talking about, what? An army of Cyclopeans?

Yeah, pretty much. Ha! We won't have to worry about a hangman's noose if we failed this one. I'm sure the Cyclopeans will take care of that, though I don't plan on failing. If we do fail, however, there's nothing we can do about it. But we haven't failed yet, so we can do something, right? Unless the something turnsout to be the wrong something rather than the right something and we ended up failing anyways, or maybe... Wait...

Jason shook his head, clearing away his advancingly confusing thoughts. He decided to go with his usual stance of 'whatever happens will happen.' Still feeling uncomfortable, he fell in line between two knights just as the rest of the warriors had.

The journey to their holding cell was unsettling to say the least, walking through the rows of dirty, pathetic prisoners. Arriving at their temporary home-away-from-home wasn't much better. The POW cell, from what he could tell was in much better condition than the ones below. However, he realized very readily that their group seemed alien compared to the rest. Especially in the sense that half of their group were the only females present. This wasn't a safe place, but there wasn't really anything they could do about it beside being careful.

Jason didn't really sleep much, but the little sleep he got was more than enough. He was quieter than normal, watchful rather than engaging once he awoke. He pretty much sat on his cot, observing things and making notes in his head until a person he automatically noted he didn't like appeared with two knights.

The man stepped into the cell confidently, the rest of the prisoners besides the month warriors shrinking back. His dislike for the man increased as soon as his mouth opened in speaking to Haru... Then Falk... Then Tallyho...

What the hell!? Jason was beyond annoyed. Mocking his companions... Calling Tallyho a prostitute! Jason wasn't one to be very serious about things, but he wasn't passive either. If you did it right, it was fairly easy to annoy him, and this guy was pushing it. Jason didn't have a guardian to advise him like some of the others, and was about to do something stupid, but Harper beat him to the punch. Now Jason didn't particularly like or dislike the guy, but right now, he definitely loved the annoying guy. Jason frankly didn't care about any possible consequences, and was even going to step forward to join Harper in his show, but wasn't given a chance to with Dorian's harshly barked, "Harper!"

Jason cleared his throat, not sure how to go about anything, so figured he'd introduce himself as if the Harper thing was no big deal. May as well. With a shrug, and a kind of small grin, Jason somewhat exaggerated a flourish of a bow (mostly to turn attention from Harper), kind of like what he'd been tempted to do two days ago on the streets when the Harbinger's entourage had passed them. This time he obviously didn't suppress the urge, though his voice he made contrastingly pleasant, even, and respectful, something none of the warriors or even the guardians had heard come from him. The tone sounded strange coming from Jason, especially with his slightly grinning expression.

"I am Jason of Solace, the warrior of August. I humbly ask you excuse my friend, Sire," and then he may possibly have ruined it by adding, "However, with all due respect, Sire, making assumptions and judging one's ability and value based by appearances and nationality tends towards a poor judgment, no?" With that, the unnaturally even and respectful tone could easily be identified only by those who knew him as being something purely mocking, highlighting his distaste for the arrogant jerk of a dude.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn
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An invalid and a prostitute.
Prostitute? It finally triggered what the word meant.

Prostituta. That cabrón of a general had called Tallyho a prostitute.
Xabier was a mild person most days, he wouldn't pick fights or get involved in childish squabbles.
However he had an ingrained sense of honour and loyalty from growing up in a large, close-knit, stereotypically spanish family.

There were many things he would put up with, if the General had insulted him instead, there would have been no problem.
Xabier wasn't as bravado macho as the other men but he would willingly fight for his family.
The one thing he could not stand was someone dishonouring family.
There was a line and General Cress had crossed it.
Tallyho and Falke were like family.
He had the right mind to snap right there and then. Call out the hijo de puta with dramatic hand movements and puffed out chest.

Become the father, protect the family.

But it was obvious from the painful silence that if he said anything out of place, it'd end up hurting them instead.
This was what was keeping him from doing anything.

Dorian didn't comment and just introduced himself coldly.
Good. Good. Let's just get through this without screwing up.
It was like building a house of cards, one wrong move and the whole thing comes crashing down.
Up came Harper for his turn.
Don't say something reckless Harper, he tried to magically communicate across, keep it polite and short.
Alas he wasn't Falke, so Harper didn't get the message.
His introduction was rude and insulting and completely blunt.
It was so stupidly reckless, Xabier could've killed him. Or kissed him.
One or the other depending on what condition they were in in the end of all this. If they weren't dead, that is.

He watched in silence as Dorian once again held the peace. It was getting increasingly harder to dislike the guy. Xabier had started to waver a little. He had started to be a little nicer to him and it wasn't just because he was Harper's friend.
Dorian had done a good job keeping the team safe in the first test, Xabier would remember that.

Jason was next and he added a little more pressure to the house of cards. Any more movement and they'd crash.

He decided to go next to get it out of the way. Pretending he hadn't noticed any of the others he took one step forward.

"Xabier Sanchez of Constance, Sire. October Warrior."
He knew that his accent was still pretty strong so he kept it brief. While it was popular with pretty girls, he knew there'd be trouble if this General noticed it. As proficient in English or the common tongue as he was, Xabier still thought in Spanish. He still talked to his Iluntasuna in Basque.
It was as clear as anything that he wasn't from around here.
He could only hope that after the other more obvious personalities, it wouldn't be noticed.
General Cress was a proud man, that was easily noticeable.
Hopefully he'd ignore Xabier's presence and concentrate on his wounded pride.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones
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Harper's careless words were paralyzing, and it took Ondine several minutes to realize he had actually said it. That those words really had been spoken. That it was this that Trent was reacting to.

She would have slit her ward's throat, if that was what it took to take back those damning words. In fact, she would have shouted Harper's name herself if Dorian hadn't done so. It was probably better that it had been Dorian, rather than her. Even though Harper had glared at Dorian with a look that was equal parts wounded, offended, and "how dare you interrupt me!", it did shut him up.

But of course, it was too late. The flame had already been lit. Even if the other warriors had already wanted to speak darkly, Harper had opened the floodgates in making it acceptable. It just spiraled on, growing worse and worse, wave upon wave of snarky tones and comments, to the point where even the genuinely respectful introductions would be automatically misjudged.

To top it all off was Trent and his very, very, very annoying mannerisms. If this was any other situation, Ondine would have killed everyone right on the spot, starting with the general and ending with Harper, just so he could see what he had wrought. That damn boy!

Trent's retreating footsteps were not even out of earshot when Ondine moved. In two angry stomps she grabbed Harper by the shoulder, whirled him around, and backhanded him as hard as she could across the face. She didn't even wait for him to recover before slapping him again on the rebound, this time with even more intensity.

"You idiot!" she hissed into his face, voice so venomous she could taste the poison in her mouth. It took every ounce of restraint to keep herself from screaming and/or spitting at him. "I would ask if you didn't think before speaking, but I already know the bloody answer! Now the only question to ask is whether you think at all, but I'm certain the answer would still be the same!"

"What, I should have just let that guy treat us all like shit?!" Harper demanded loudly, eyes watering and voice quivering slightly from the pain, cheeks red and swelling. Small bubbles of blood dewed out from five trails her nails had blazed on his left cheek, stretching from his jawline to the bridge of his nose, the skin breaking across the softer flesh. A handprint was clearly visible on his right side, and a scratch running tangent to his lower eyelid was reddening.

Yet Ondine still felt like she hadn't hit him hard enough.

"Yes, that is exactly what you should have done!" Ondine snapped, her black eyes flashing against the stormy seas that were his. "You talked top shit about knowing how to play the game, but clearly that's all that was. Top bull shit."

"He called her a prostitute!" He shouted back, gesturing forcefully at Tallyho. "He didn't even listen to her!" His hand moved to point at Skylar. "He pretty much pretended you and everyone else without a Y chromosome didn't exist!"

"Words are only words if you don't react to them," Ondine argued icily, "Especially his words. If you knew anything about politics--"

"Don't even talk to me about politics!" Harper yelled, "You were a fucking pirate! No rules, nothing! I had to live that shit every day, every hour, every fucking second. Assholes like him were part of my life, and I fucking hated it!"

Ondine couldn't help herself. She lunged forward, grabbed him by his collar and dragged him away from the others before slamming him against the stone walls of an empty corner.

"I don't care whether you fucking hated it or if you fucking loved it," Ondine spat, voice as sharp as a knife and low, "This isn't about you or your bloody soap opera of a life, and it never has been. You're not the fucking main character, you're not the tragic hero, and you are not the victim."

"I never said--"

Ondine slapped him again.

"Would you--"

Slap.

"HEY--"

Slap.

Finally he shut up, left cheek smeared with blood and right so red it practically radiated heat.

"Now I want you to understand something," Ondine continued, her fury spiking her words, "I want you to realize exactly what your stupid words did. You know how important first impressions are? Well you've given us one hell of a bad one. And because of your oh so favorite politics, we are going to stay in bad favor, so that even if we do succeed with the flock, those who hold all of our fates will still doubt and suspect the worst. You have jeopardized all of our lives for a petty insult. You have made our journey a thousand times harder. You have ensured that from now on, all those who meet us will already have a sour taste in their mouth from rumors and hearsay of this event."

"It wasn't just me!" Harper blurted out indignantly.

The slap that followed was louder than all the others that preceded it.

"You were the instigator," Ondine finished bitterly, her own hand stinging. "Just as you always have been. And if after three years you still haven't realized that, then you are truly the stupidest man to have ever stumbled upon Aires."

"I AM NOT STUPID!" Harper roared, but any possible indication of a lunge or attack was quickly halted as Ondine slammed an elbow into his shoulder before kneeing him in the gut.

She left him as he crumpled to the ground, dress whipping as she made her way to Haru. She sat on the cot across him, arms crossed, as if she hadn't just assaulted her own warrior. She shut her eyes, and kept her mouth likewise. A plan. They needed a plan.

Back at the corner, Harper had pulled his legs in, face buried against his knees, muttering over and over, "I'm not stupid. I'm not stupid."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn
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Tallyho wasn’t so positive how to feel about all of this. It all started with one comment from Harper and suddenly all of the other month warrior boys piled into the fray, taking jabs at the general in the most obvious of ways. All except Dorian, who had attempted to approach the situation with the same safe submission that Haru endorsed, and Falke, who probably felt just as dazed and confused and guilty as she did.

And she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Sure she hadn’t asked to be called out of name but the entire incident revolved around that very exchange. And as all of the warriors threw themselves into the pit of the situation, Tallyho found herself physically recoiling. She honestly wanted to walk away too, right through the fray and through the cell doors and into the nearest eatery. But like a child born of a struggling relationship, she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her wrists latched into each parent’s fist and yanked raw as she justly blamed herself for absolutely nothing.

And then it all ended with Trent calling them inbred and Harper in the corner wincing with his face red. As if Trent’s discounting the group wasn’t enough, it sucked to say but part of Tallyho really felt bad for Harper who was now in the corner wincing. She knew it wasn’t really her fault but at the same time she really felt like it was.

And her stomach dropped.

Usually she couldn’t give the right side of a rat’s ass about Harper’s feelings and she still assumed the sentiment was likewise on his part, but today she was surprised not only that he actually acknowledged her existence but that, at the very least, he didn’t think she was a prostitute. Which was comforting for the moment but certainly not enough to erase a long history consisting of every ignored statement, thoughtless shoulder shove, stomped toe, or any other general lack of acknowledgement of Tallyho by Harper. But to see him there reacting to being called out on his bull, well in this particular instance, it wasn’t as pleasurable as Tallyho had imagined it would be.

And then there was Haru…

Haru was pretty much done with it all. As Ondine wailed on Harper in a way she had once wailed on him a lifetime ago, Haru tried time and time again to figure something out. And every time he came up short. And every time he failed he confirmed that having that conversation with Trent would have made planning for the flock so much easier. But who says they were even going to make it to the flock. Who—

“…Hey, are you sure that she isn’t also part cat because she really clawed your face up.”

Was that a joke? Was that a fucking joke?! No. No he was not offended that someone just pretty much compared his ex-girlfriend to his fucking spirit animal. He didn’t care about that. No, he was pissed by the principle of the thing. The fact that someone was making light of a mistake like this. He looked up, from his hands, peering through with hard eyes to find the comedian. And lo and behold it was Skylar smiling and attempting to comfort Harper. And he didn’t have a damned thing against friendship, and he had nothing against the girl personally, and maybe he was just testy—actually yes he was very, very testy—but that fucking pushed him off the edge.

Haru’s cot shuddered violently as he literally vaulted himself off of his butt and onto his feet, so abruptly that the mattress clung to him on his way up, hopping once on the springboard with a loud clang before staying put, the force in his movement ringing through the metal frame.
And then he was standing again, face cold, fists clenched and hot. His jaw skewed to the side casually as he drug his top teeth across his bottom lip grating flesh, not thinking twice about blood.

“You fucking idiots!”

And oh he meant every word of it. And it was meant for all of them. Every. Last. One. Of them. Because even if some didn’t have a direct hand in this episode, each one of them were bound to have had a hand in another. Because that’s just the way it was. This job was never easy.

“You fucking, fucking idiots. You fuckers! Do you really know what just happened? Do you really? Why in the world do you think I stopped you every chance I got to give you a warning I really shouldn’t have had to repeat more than once? ‘Don’t be stupid,’ that is absolutely ALL you had to do for me. I didn’t tell you to kiss these people’s feet. I didn’t even tell you that you had to LIKE any of these people. Yet every time I ask you to act civilized, every time I try to teach you people how to be a bigger person, you still find something to gripe with. You still feel like you have to break the rules somehow because you’re big kids, you can take care of yourselves, and never mind the fact that your asses would be dead in a ditch somewhere without any form of guidance. But alas, you can’t even color within the fucking lines! Do you think we actually like telling you people what to do? Because I don’t know about the rest of these poor shmucks but I don’t! In fact, every morning when I wake up, if I ever even sleep, I dread the sight of your smug little faces because they are constant reminders of the fact that I’m not dead yet and that my ass is stuck on this forsaken planet and bound into immortality until you get a grip and do your jobs! At least if we get hung your mortal souls are off the hook! But hey! The guardians are no better. Some of us,” Haru’s gaze whipped to Kit who readily contributed his own sly remark towards Trent, “absolutely LOVE to complain about our guardianship and bitch and moan over how the warriors aren’t getting this shit right when they don’t even have the decency and restraint to do their jobs and be an example. But you know, whatever! Who cares if we completely sabotage our chances of getting the support we need, huh? Make the job harder it’s okay! Haru will fix it! There’s no fight because we can joke and smile about it right? It’s all okay because all of these boneheaded mistakes are made out of the pure goodness of our itty, bitty, witty little hearts!”

He looked dead at Skylar, too flustered to really feel bad about calling her out.

“Make another joke, huh? Please!”


“HEY SHUT UP!”

It was a voice from the other side of the room. One of the POW’s from Hales in fact. He was hunched over in his cot, shamelessly claiming the outcry as his own.

“Shut up little man or I’ll give you something to really complain about!”

Haru stood there in silence. But oh, it wasn’t a silence of utter stupor or embarrassment it was an eerie silence. A frightening silence. And Haru was quite frightening with his head cocked so slightly to the side, his eyes so wide that his forehead wrinkled.

And in a brief moment he was off. Dashing all the way to the other side of the room. He was actually running to the other side of the room, bunks he ran into shuffling about his shins. Men in his path parted like the red sea, beholding to some wrathful Moses. And the soldier who yelled at Haru did not move. In fact as the guardian ran towards him he stood up as fast as he could and lunged forward.

With one more row of cots between Haru and the veteran the cat guardian, in the midst of his run, planted a firm foot onto the mattress, vaulting over the headboard and plummeting into the larger man. And as graceful and clean as one might have wished this scene to be, it was quite the opposite, the image littered with small imperfections: the cot slid slightly when Haru pivoted forward. As the man fell to Haru’s mass he landed shoulder first on another man’s cot, smashing the poor guy’s finger.

Tallyho shifted back onto her headboard. She had never seen Haru actually fight, fight. She was confident that he could but she never…

Haru straddled the man, as he punched. The thud of fist to cheek drowned out by the howls of the other soldiers, many of which who were egging it on, making a dense circle around the fray blocking the warriors’ view. A few other POW’s however, probably from the same nation as the one assaulted, made it their business to jump into the event, pulling at Haru’s jacket as he went.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Falke der Herrscher Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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"You guys okay?" He asked Tallyho and Falke quietly.
"Forget what that guy said, he knows nothing." His accent grew stronger with his disgust.
Xabier had wanted it say something further when Haru started ranting and raving.
His words harsh and biting.
Apparently they were only fuck ups with no brains.
That hurt.
"Shut up little man or I'll give you something to complain about."
A POW from Hales called Haru out and it was if the world froze.
Within moments it was full scale brawl between the POWs and the angry Guardians.
Their skills were terrifying to say the least. Haru alone looked like he'd destroy them all with ease, let alone the others.
Why? Why did it have to turn out like this?

From the corner of his eye he noticed more movement. This time it was Harper.
Harper had become a tornado, flinging his arms about destructively.

"Harper?" He held his hands up in defense.
Xabier walked cautiously over to the crib. The older lad had stripped down and flung everything he had on across the room. Now Xabier wouldn't mind this usually but this was hardly the time and place.
Scooting around the rush of people fighting, he picked up the clothes, still slightly warm.
"Qué haces ahora Harper?" He muttered.
He was aware that he shouldn't speak any Spanish for fear of having someone overhear, thus further dooming their team.
But he was furious and little reminders of home kept him focused.
Xabier tried his best to ignore the full on brawl. He wanted to yell and punch something, but didn't. There was enough anger in the Guardians to fill his appetite for a while. That, and he had his heart set on harnessing whatever he felt in this moment and letting his Iluntasuna have it. They seemed to thrive on anger. All the better for possible revenge.

Xabier went past Skylar.
"Don't worry about the joke, it was funny. Everyone is a bit on edge, yes?" No smile. He couldn't.
He hadn't laughed at the joke, but he didn't want her to feel bad. There was enough bad feeling in this godforsaken place.
Xabier turned to the half naked guy.
He was curled up and emotional.
"Harper, you're not stupid." He crouched down by the crib, clothes in one hand.
"What you did was reckless but I think you already get that."
Xabier had wanted to say something softer, more gentle, but stopped.
Was it okay to comfort him? Would he just make a bigger mess?
Scrunched up face like a crying child, his necklace gone, Harper looked a mess.
Screw it, he thought. It wasn't the time to worry about what the others may think.
He leaned over and touched his hair gently.
"Now can you please put your clothes back on."
God, he never thought he'd ever say that.
Removing his hand from the hair, he patted his shoulder in a friendly, you're-my-bro way.
He was worried about Harper but didn't say any more. His face showed it all.

He appraised the slapped, red cheek. It was bleeding a little and really did look a cat had swiped at him.

Whatever annoyance at Harper had disappeared the moment Ondine had slapped him.
She made his blood boil.
It was clear that if the roles were reversed with Ondine being smacked about by Harper, all hell would break lose.
Instead they all watched in silence.
Maybe this type of punishment was okay here, but Xabier couldn't stand it.
They already had to put up with a bully. One slap was justified.
Shit, even he wanted to punch him at one stage.
But the amount of slaps by Ondine was excessive.

He also felt a sense of shame at Haru's words. Xabier had tried his best, given the circumstances.
It became increasingly clear that these Guardians were not who he thought they were.
Who he had waited for, for over three fucking years.
No.
If his guardian was a person who'd beat him or make him feel like shit for a mistake, then maybe he didn't need a guardian.

Sure, he respected the Guardians. He knew that they worked hard for the group.
But it had become difficult to admire them the way he had before.


*what are you doing now, Harper?

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Falke der Herrscher Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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This was getting ridiculous. And Tallyho knew ridiculous. She knew the stomp and brawls of the seediest taverns, drunk nights that led to brain wrenching mornings. But this… This was a mess. The chaos of a tavern without the comfort of alcohol. If her irrational guilt wasn’t enough, she was also, in all honesty, quite embarrassed by everyone. Three years ago, when she fell down the valley the only thought on her mind was a damned basket of apples. All she wanted was a meal and somehow she ended up with this plate of hot. Shit.

Tallyho quietly nibbled on her knuckles as if they were the ridges of a bread roll. This was comfort. This was comfort. This was apparently the place for everyone to explode with all the pent up rage of years’ past. Some wanting to act but held back, wallowing in self-pity. Others very obviously acted, but only in a way to show off how this event significantly affected them and only them. Tallyho wasn’t sure if she even wanted to speak or react to anything anymore. She wanted a snack and a nap and apparently everyone else did too because this was all so selfish and juvenile. And she could not promise that she wasn’t selfish either. Maybe the fact that she thought others were selfish was selfish. Maybe the fact that she suddenly felt the urge to not speak to any of these people again made her selfish.

This didn’t make any sense. It was all phony. So, so phony. Since when was this team so gung-ho and chummy that they actually, genuinely, absolutely had to defend each other despite better judgment? Why was it that the people who actually cared about Tallyho (and she couldn’t speak for Falke on this one) were the ones who hadn’t even looked her way after the insult. No, it wasn’t a jab at them but an uplifting opinion. They were honest to the situation. The people who actually spoke to her, helped her, healed her, were the ones who hadn’t said a word about the incident. Falke, despite his role as her co-star in the whole ordeal hadn’t budged yet. Gwen, though they only just began to interact with one another, (the one who healed Tallyho when she really didn’t have and compromised her own health in the process) hadn’t said and thing. And then there was Dorian. Oh Dorian. A warrior she trusted enough to protect her in her sleep had only tried to play Trents game because it was for the greater good. He could defend Tallyho’s honor for a day, or save her for a lifetime and a true friend would have chosen the latter. Yet Harper, the pompous ass who she was pretty sure just learned her name two weeks ago, the one who she, albeit irrationally, considered her secret enemy (and no he had no idea about it) was leaping to “her” rescue. Then there was Xabier “comforting her” when he was probably the most deadbeat friend she ever had. And this whole thing really got her wondering… Why did she even try to include him in her circle of friends because do they even talk? Does he even go here? It was seldom she got him to join her deck side dance parties—the blind kid would kick back with her before he did—or even have a conversation with her lasting more than five minutes. Yet he was always the one trying to cozy up with the best friend sweater and act as if they were family or whatever. She was really going to be reconsidering her opinions of everyone tonight. Even her own guardian…

Footsteps. Tallyho’s eyes darted in the direction of the cell door. Only seconds after the clicks of shoes warned the arrival of intervention, the knights swarmed in with an unforgiving velocity, knocking over a few prisoners who hovered on the outskirts of the congregation. Like ants to a corpse they snapped through the crowd with expertise, casually chewing away at the mass, tossing bodies out of the fray like well-oiled machines. They did this as if it were nothing. Men like these were keen on the protocol to recognize who started riots. But in this particular case the answer was quite simple.

They neared the core of the fruit of spite, peeling flesh from flesh, man from man, and soon they reached the bitter pit. The redhead and the veteran crouched under the fray, succumbing to its mass as fights formed on top of more fights. Both were dazed, muscles weak, tingling. Nonetheless they hauled them up unsympathetically. Haru by his collar, his feet off of the ground from a moment, christening a baby with a bloody lip.

“BACK TO YOUR COTS! GET BACK! GET BACK OR NO MEALS.”

Like cattle the men reined back in waves, leaving the two men bare to the eyes of the prisoners. And Haru with his hair tussled and a missing shoe did not struggle as his hands were looped behind him. As the POW howled in protest Haru walked before his knight like a well-trained dog—a noble beast. The rage that once steamed from his pores now wafting into a lukewarm, bittersweet scent. And even though he did not know what would happen next, he felt an instant sense of relief.

And as he was escorted out of the cell and down the hall, limping casually with one shoe, he did not once look back at the group.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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Skylar had always liked Haru, always admired and appreciated what he did for their team. And for the most part, she had always stayed on his good side- at least, until now. Then again, he seemed to be placing the blame equally on all of them for this.

“Make another joke, huh? Please!”

If looks could kill, Skylar would have been dead and buried, Haru’s eyes alight with anger. She probably would have felt even worse about the situation had Haru not singled her out at the end of his spiel because he overheard a personal conversation between her and Harper. So sure, maybe going over to coddle him after he’d fucked up so badly wasn’t the best idea, but still.

Regardless, Haru’s words hurt like a slap to the face and Skylar felt her face flush with shame. At least she had sucked it up and put on a happy face for Trent, which was more than she could say for some of the others. In fact, that’s all she’d been doing lately. She didn’t ask for any of this, none of them had, yet she obliged with everything and followed orders like the good little month warrior she was supposed to be.

And then there was Harper, her best friend, who completely ignored Skylar’s attempt to check up on him. She felt like a puppy looking for attention, only to be swatted in the face and kicked away. His ignorance stung almost as hard as Haru’s yelling, the June warrior getting up and stalking off to have another meltdown without even acknowledging her.
It would have made sense to go after him, but being flat out rejected once was enough. As much as she liked him, and she liked him a lot, she also liked having one last shred of dignity to hang on to.

Skylar glanced over at Xabier as he reassured her that her joke was funny (which she already knew, but thanks anyway), watching as he trailed after Harper. She watched him lean over, quietly talking to the older boy. Her brows furrowed, lip caught between her teeth.

Haru was being dragged away, Harper was almost naked, and the rest of the team seemed to be on the verge of breaking down as well.

What the fuck was happening?

The ground beneath her cracked.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Ryou Zerinn Character Portrait: Haru Karokav
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Their world was collapsing again, this second time worse than the first. Their fearless leader Haru, proved that being immortal doesn't change that he is still human and afraid. Afraid to fail, afraid to lose. He put everything he had into trying to help them, protect them, warn them, and they didn't listen. They didn't see it! Dumb kids!

Unfortunately, throwing himself into a fight showed that he was giving up. They saw what happened to the last men who got into a fight, and any minute now Haru, Ryou, and Ondine would face that same fate. She wanted to break it up, but she didn't know if the guards would take her away too. These dumb kids were the only reason any of the guardians were alive right now, and they couldn't afford to lose more of their number. She hated to admit it, because Haru and Ryou were her friends, but they were expendable. Those left had to stay back and watch their friends disappear. They needed to make sure the kids stayed alive long enough to do what they have to do. These dumb kids were the only reason for anything.

And someone needed to stand up and lead.

Stone was a cold, hard, unforgiving surface. The small seafaring woman felt it through her entire being as she pressed her feet to the stone floor. Her body trembled.

Her own dumb kid had something to do with this mess right now. Was she really the right one? She bit her lip and froze. Then her hazel eyes hardened like the stone. He had no one to blame but himself. As soon as she could think of something suitable, she would deal with him. She looked around. The fistfight continued unabated while those dumb kids, and their guardians not involved moped. Yes, they should feel the weight of the situation, but moping about it won't change a damned thing.

She finally stood up and paced the line of them. "Yes, you messed up. General Cress most likely has the ears of the king, so he'll hear about this fiasco, which DOES damage our position whether you want to believe it or not," she hissed and glared at Xabier who treated this incident like a game and brushed off absolutely everything both Haru and even Ondine said. Nikita didn't approve of at least the punching and kicking of that dumb kid, but the June Guardian did make good points.

Kyle wasn't listening. He heard enough from Haru and Ondine. Right now he sat on the floor and stared at the madness on the other side of the room. He knew he did a lot of stupid things, but this one was the stupidest yet. He didn't even like Harper, but jumped in anyway. Haru warned them multiple times, Nikita warned him, even Dorian warned them. He warned Harper. Harper as usual was deaf to all warnings and stupid Kyle played into it as well. For such a long time he tried to be the 'good' kid, and even though he still had his stupid moments, he didn't think he ever went 'bad.' What the hell was he thinking?! He pressed his hands against his face. He didn't deserve to be the April month Warrior. He didn't deserve this. Haru, and Nikita and all the guardians didn't deserve this. His friends didn't deserve this. His family didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve them, any one of them.

Just as expected, the guards rushed in to clear out the fighters, interrupting both Kyle's pity party and Nikita trying to get these kids to get their acts together. Nikita was relieved to see only one of her friends carried away, but Haru refused to look at them. She cringed and trembled. Did these dumb kids wipe out all his passion and strength? She didn't want to imagine that. She couldn't. Other things she couldn't and didn't want to imagine sprung to life in her mind. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed that none came to pass.

She took a deep breath to get herself together. She didn't have the time to mope either. Opening her eyes, she finally said, "Yes, you messed up, but whining and moping about it is a waste of time. We don't know when we have to go to this battle, and we don't know where we'll be standing when that time comes. So instead of moping around we need to focus our energy on what we CAN do." She didn't yell at them, but she did lay down the facts as much as she could. "We know this group of attacking cyclopeans is bigger than what Ve Marie has seen before, and we also know that one of these cyclopean is bigger than what you may have seen before. What can you do about that situation?" Then she turned away from the group and ordered Kyle to move his stuff next to Harper's bed. Since he jumped in with Harper's stupid behavior right after she warned him AND Dorian warned them, he had to wait on Harper for the rest of their captivity.

Kyle didn't protest, but he did squirm. Now he had no bloody choice but to babysit Harper AND think about what they were supposed to do about their lack of information regarding the flock. After Harper gave the entire bloody prison cell a strip show, he needed to bring all his stuff over next to the idiot and help him get dressed again, seriously?

He also glared at stupid Xabier, who was still hanging around telling widdle baby Harper that everything was okay. "Go away," he barked to the Spanish boy, who he thought was his friend. His friend wouldn't be so cozy with someone he hated.

Kyle sighed and swallowed as Skylar moved away. During his stupid show, Harper completely ignored Skylar who also thought the idiot could be trusted. The blond knew right away that the jerk was no good and would hurt her, but he let her go. He let her get hurt. That just gave him another reason to hate himself.

Finally away from Harper he moved to Skylar's side. It was too late to apologize to Haru, but he could do something about her situation. "I... I... I'm sorry."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Nikita Machari Character Portrait: Ondine Azur
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For, quite possibly, the first time in his life, Harper was at an absolute loss.

He didn't know what to do. What to say. What to think.

His normal had come crashing down on him, and he was trapped.

Everything sounded louder, looked bigger, felt worse and more uncomfortable.

Small. He felt small.

He had been staring blankly at the floor, tears pricking, shoulders slumped, when he heard Xabi's voice ring through the cacophony.

"Harper, you're not stupid."

The words would have been more comforting if they weren't followed up with, "What you did was reckless but I think you already get that."

How many times were people gonna rub this shit into his face? Remind him that he had, indeed, fucked everything up? First Ondine, Skylar, Haru...now Xabi too?

He wanted to yell at him, to lash out, but as he tensed up in anticipation he felt soft and gentle fingers touch his hair. Such a
small gesture, but he melted immediately.

He swallowed, a lump in his throat, eyes stinging. How could he even think of shouting at him?

Wordlessly, he took his clothes from Xabi, sniffling as tears rolled one by one down his cheeks, which still buzzed from heat and pain. He winced as he pulled his shirt back on, the fabric brushing against the cuts, red dotting the collar. He could feel the younger boy's eyes on his face, no doubt inspecting the damage. Ever the doctor.

He opted to keep his jacket off, folding it across his lap. His hands rested on the fabric, fingers tugging at any loose threads anxiously. He'd kept his vest on in a half-hearted attempt to look a bit more presentable, even if he didn't feel presentable in the slightest.

Again he stared at the floor, eyes finding the discarded necklace, black cord fraying on both of its broken ends, shark tooth curiously speckled with red. He glanced at his hands and was surprised to find his right palm had been cut, a thin slice dicing through the middle.

Had everything decided to go against him?

To make matters worse, Nikita started talking, reprimanding them yet again. Seriously. How many times were they going to fucking beat the dead horse?

Her voice suddenly sounded closer, more sinister, and when he looked up he was surprised to find her venomous tone directed at Xabi.

He felt his face heat up, this time from anger. Why? Why was she mad at him? Xabi hadn't even done anything! Was he not allowed to comfort others, especially his own boyfriend? (even if no one knew they were a couple?)

He opened his mouth to snap back at her, but was startled to find he had nothing to say.

With Nikita silent, the fighting across the room took precedence again, growing louder and louder in volume, threatening to swamp him. Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to take it anymore a loud voice boomed, "BACK TO YOUR COTS! GET BACK OR NO MEALS."

He flicked his eyes up in time to see Haru being led out, the brawl dissolved. Ondine, her white petticoat stained with grime and blood, hair in disarray, stood with wide eyes and a heaving chest, glaring at the guards as if she were angry at them for disrupting the fight.

When he saw her eyes slide to him he looked down again.

Away.

He wanted to get away.

He wanted to dive into the ocean, swim 1,000 leagues in the opposite direction and then sink to the bottom, just to find some peace of mind. Just so he could scream and cry without consequence, break down into a million pieces so that he could put himself back together again and bounce back like nothing had happened. Like he had always done.

He would even have settled for a private room, a rooftop, even a fucking bathroom. Just somewhere quiet, where he could be alone, away from all his problems.

What he would give for ten minutes of solitary and silence!

Nikita resumed talking, trying to get them to focus again, but her voice and her words melded with conversations across the room into a monotonous drone in his mind.

He moved to wipe his eyes, but something caught his hand. Blinking, he looked down to see his index finger rapidly turning purple. One of the threads he had tugged at from his jacket had somehow gotten twisted and wrapped so tightly around his digit that the skin was bulging out between the thin string.

As he unraveled the golden twine from his finger, he noticed the rest of the destruction he had unknowingly wrought upon the article of clothing. More threads had been loosed, a large tangle of knots where there had once been embroidery. The cuffs had been distressed to the point where no amount of ironing would be able to rid all the wrinkles. Only one button remained intact, the others pooling in the middle of the folded fabric.

He bit his lip and realized just how fast he had been breathing. His vision blurred and he felt the tears drop faster. When he tried to wipe them away, his finger shook and trembled against his lids. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, but, as he had realized today, nobody really cared what he wanted anyways.

Close. He was so close to losing it. The jacket twisted in his grasp, wringing and stretching, nearing breaking point. He could feel his heart race, his shoulders bounce, his hands balling into tight, tight fists, arms wanting to rip apart.

He'd never been good at repressing his emotions. He only wished Xabi wasn't so close...he didn't want him to get hurt.

Yet, just when he was about to explode, something pushed its way into his view. A block of wood, it looked like. No, two. Rounded on one side. Already sanded. He blinked, jolted. Once. Twice.

With shaky fingers he plucked the blocks from the brown callused hands that offered them. A knife followed afterwards, the hilt familiar, blade curved slightly and clearly suited more for slicing the throats of mutineers than wood chipping.

But Harper couldn't care less. This was something he could do. This was something he knew. A distraction. A pacifier. An apology. The shadow of his guardian left, soft footsteps retreating as he sniffed and wiped his eyes for the umpteenth time. He rolled his shoulders back, red eyes blinking as he inhaled and exhaled, breath still shaky but nowhere near his previous hyperventilaiton.

Swallowing thickly, he brandished the knife against the first block. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the rest of the world drowned out as the first sliver of wood curled against the downward moving blade.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Kit Withers
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#, as written by Linnea
Kit rested his head on his hand. This was bullshit. Though he wasn’t friends with Haru, he knew that the man deserved better. He took a deep breath. How were they going to survive the flock? He did stock up on supplies, but would that even be enough? Somehow, he had a feeling the military would be fighting against them. At least, they would if Trent had any say in the matter. Unfortunately for the group, he did.

The redhead thought for a moment. Just when was the last time he had to be political? Probably not since before he became a guardian. Dear goddess, had it really been that long? Well, it wasn’t as if he had spent his immortal life studying. Mostly, he had spent it just trying to pass the time. A wave of regret washed over him. He really should have prepared for this. Goddess, why did he even think he would get by?

He had always had doubts that the warriors would return, but he never thought they would need so much coddling. It had been three years and they still acted like children. Still, they had to comfort each other after being scolded. Still, they went bug eyed in fear.

Haru was taken away and Kit didn’t blame him for being upset.

Kit approached Haru a few hours after the guardian had returned. He wasn’t hesitant or nervous. He was grateful. So grateful that the other redhead had returned and so grateful that he didn’t seem to hold a grudge. He had spent the previous days thinking about what he would say to the man, for he would regret acting as if he had done nothing wrong, and he was going to say it.

He apologized. Kit had acted like a fool and he knew it. He wasn’t about to pretend as if it wasn’t wrong. Haru didn’t need the pressure of a far too prideful guardian. The group didn’t need the pressure.

Kit didn’t grovel or beg for forgiveness. He simply apologized and swore to not slip up like that again. He didn’t have the liberty to. The pressure was real and he had to step up or let the warriors die in his foolishness.

He still despised his current situation. He still felt that sadness and bitterness. However, he wanted to believe the group could make it. He wanted to cast aside his cynicism and doubt and try to at least have a bit of hope.

A fire had been lit in him lately and he didn’t want it to burn out. Not again.

In the days after, he spent most of his time trying to come up with a plan with Autumn. He never quite got there. Kit was a clever man, but he wasn’t that brilliant of a strategist. Thankfully, Haru was there to help. Kit had a feeling they still wouldn’t get along, like two pieces of the same puzzle that just didn’t fit together, but he was forever grateful that Haru had returned. Without him, the group was doomed to failure.

In the days that Haru was gone, Autumn listened to Skylar grumble about Harper. It was understandable. Skylar had put her neck out to comfort him and he had completely ignored her. Anyone would be upset by that, but it probably hurt Skylar more so. She had one told Autumn of her crush on the salt water warrior, but Autumn would know even if she hadn't told her. Autumn knew a lot these days. The spirits kept her well informed when they were around her. Autumn could only imagine how much it hurt to be brushed off like that.

Time passed and Autumn grew restless. She wanted to move, or to at least learn something useful. It was on a Friday afternoon that her curiosity was satisfied. Though the room was still far too uncomfortably warm, the spirits returned. They spoke of blood and spasms, of Tallyho struggling to remain quiet and still. Autumn had no idea what to do with the information, but it was better than knowing nothing.

She talked to Kit occasionally, finding the guardian much more determined than usual. He asked her about her plans for the flock and she would try to come up with something. The redhead would give his own opinions and strategies, but nothing really came of it. He really was trying, but the sheer number of enemies that they would have to face made it difficult.

At least Haru had some idea, even if it was something that would only take place on the spot.

“Great, sundown. That’ll make things far more difficult.” Kit said before eating another spoonful of porridge.

“We’ll have to move carefully, which will probably decrease our speed. Wouldn’t want to bump into a building and get eaten. I want to say we can stay above them by staying on top of the buildings, but I have a feeling this group isn’t that great for roof jumping.” He chuckled, stirring his meal as he thought.

“Though, I guess I can handle that. I can scale a wall easily and can fight from rooftop if necessary. Problem is, just one man won’t defeat an entire flock.”

“There might be flyers…” He was mumbling to himself at this point, eyes fixated on his porridge. It was a pretty obvious clue that he was just thinking out loud. Kit knew that Haru would probably be able to come up with a plan, but a little extra preparation never hurt.

“So we’ll need long range attacks. Autumn might be able to take a few down by draining energy, but it’s not really a finishing move…”

“Don’t worry about that.” Autumn chimed in.

“I’ve been practicing plenty. Even if it doesn’t kill them, it’ll weaken them enough for me to make a final hit.”

“That’s good. But, I suppose we’ll have to rely on Haru for the final plan.” Trying to plan ahead of time was at least a little calming, even if it amounted to nothing. Really, Kit had been repeating these points to himself and Autumn over the past few days in hopes that they would bring some sort of revelation.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez
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The past two weeks had gone by ten times longer than the 2 months on the ship. Or at least, it felt like that. As gregarious as he was, Harper still had a need for privacy and personal space. With nowhere to escape to, especially in a moment of turmoiled emotions, life in the prison cell had been as hellish as he'd imagined it would be.

Only a heightened elevation could have made it worse.

Given the inability to literally run away from his problems, Harper had trouble bouncing back. What would normally have only taken a 2 hour swim to recover from was now spread across days of bathroom breaks, where he wold relieve himself physically, mentally and emotionally. Many a guard had looked at him suspiciously when he emerged with red, watery eyes and ragged breath.

When he wasn't spending an unnecessarily long time in the washroom, Harper was carving. Even though the soles of Ondine's boots weren't very large, he spent the entire two weeks working them, carving and refining, over and over. Even though Ondine still hadn't apologized formally, Harper was over the slapping incident. It had hurt, and wounded his pride among other things, but Harper didn't like holding grudges.

Still, that didn't mean he forgave. Something like that seemed too....he didn't know how to put it, but it didn't seem to suit him.
He just didn't feel any vengeance or anger towards her. Or even resentment...at least not more than usual. He just...let it go. Didn't worry about it. Moved on. Went back to their usual dynamic.

He just didn't forgive. And he doubted he would forget either.

The same deal with his father, of course.

Besides, Ondine didn't seem to expect any more from him.

As quiet as he was, Harper did not think about the situation at hand, or plan for the future battle. It would take more than a few
slaps to the face to change the way he thought, assuming it was even possible. Instead, Harper thought of nothing. Clearing his mind was his goal, and there was not a thing anyone could do to interfere with that. Even Ondine seemed to grasp that.

In fact, his guardian had hardly talked to him since that first day.

Not that he cared.

He finally bounced back mentally around the tenth day, but continued carving, although he did so with a smile and whistled to himself. However, he did talk more, whether it was to Xabier or Dorian. He tried to talk to Skylar, but sensed tension. It took him a while to figure out how he had wronged her, but when he finally connected the dots he nearly face-palmed himself.

It was also around this time that he'd sheepishly gone looking for his ring. After sweeping the entire cell on his hands and knees,
Ondine tipped him off to Dorian, who he approached to retrieve the jewelry, muttering a small "thanks" during the exchange. He slung it back onto the broken black cord, retying it around his neck with Ondine's help, who had tied it in such a way that he doubted he'd ever be able to take it off without a blade.

Over the next few days he finally finished. He'd made a small windmill, complete with movable turbines and a small waterwheel. He had decided to give it to Skylar the next morning, as an apology of sorts.

He woke up to a kick in the back from Kyle (why he was placed next to him he'd never know...) which almost landed him on the floor. "Ah yes, just what I needed," he yawned sarcastically as he sat up, glaring at Kyle, "Nothing like a good ol' spinal break to kickstart the morning."

His sarcasm only increased as they went over the game plan...if you could even call it that. He was in the right state of mind to stay quiet and not voice his thoughts, but he couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes at everyone's comments, especially Kyle's. Team? Working together? Yeah right. Eat your own words, blondie. It wasn't like Harper went around kicking Kyle off the bed, or anyone else for that matter. Sheezus.

He stayed sullenly cynical as they were escorted out, shooting off snark after snark in his mind as he was dressed in the leather armor--like that would provide much protection against obsidian blades--and subsequently realized for the umpteenth time that he hadn't brought his saltwater skin with him. Some fight this would be. He briefly wondered if perhaps he should just linger in the back and let all the others take care of the fighting. Sure, this was all about teamwork, but wasn't keeping himself from being killed aiding the team? Didn't that count?

His thoughts were only reiterated when Ondine took him by the shoulders as they were led out and ordered, "Do not get yourself killed out there."

"Wasn't planning on it," he told her as he was pulled away, and he waved at her as he crossed the bridge, shouting, "Although you have to admit, death by monster is one hell of a way to go!"

Yet, for all his sarcasm and lack of seriousness, it was only on the surface. His legs shook as he waited, staying near the back of the group, trident heavy and slippery in his hands. Water...he had no water. At least Kyle could use rain. And there was that moat behind them...fuck, everyone could use their power except him. He would be forced to use his weapon, something that was painfully close range...shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Haru's shouting didn't help matters in the slightest.

And as a rumbling vibrated throughout the earth, Harper felt his stomach drop, and fear began to take over. Regrets filled his mind. He should have given Skylar the windmill straight up this morning, instead of pocketing it and saving it for later. He should have talked to Dorian more, asked him more questions about Sadie. Should have tripped Kyle at least once, just to see how he liked it. Should have kissed Xabi one last time. Should have told Ondine he was scared. Should have decided to bring his fucking his pouch of seawater. Even a gallon of it would be more helpful than nothing.

Should have. Should have.

Well, it was too late for those.

He swallowed dryly, trying to focus. But even when Haru shouted the affirmative, and Tallyho took off like a streak of lightning, screaming and flashing, Harper froze in place.

Above him he could barely hear Ondine's voice, travelling down the wall, shouting with every ounce of her might, "SOMEONE BRING ME SOME DAMNED SEAWATER! NOW!!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav
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“Now that’s the spirit. I heard most men from Hales lost a finger or two before they were eight. But… You don’t look nearly as rugged as some of those brutes over yonder, yeah?”

Falke barely inclined his head in agreement, but remained silent, even as the General obviously began referring to certain members of the group of POWs on the other side of the room, burying themselves of idle chatter even as they attempted to ignore the present of the young (if not awful persona, is what he ought to be labeled as) noble-man. It was the truth, he guessed, anyhow. Save for the nasty scar that decorated just under his left ear and a chunk of his throat line, well hidden by that damn confining collar of the doublet, Falke was relatively unmarred - and yes, all his fingers were accounted for.

It seemed to have gone easy enough, but Falke was hardly surprised upon following his own polite, rather unassuming introduction, that the General, Cress, immediately invaded his person space with a finger flashing in front of, calling names, and laughed hard, a deep belly laugh, in his face. To be entirely truthful, it was something he suspected had been a long time coming; and certainly he was infuriated and flustered at the same time about it, nothing could be done for him - an invalid, ice-brute.

Being named an invalid was a common enough hurt, an old wound to his soul. And while he wasn't certain the direct meaning behind 'ice-brute', except that it sounded like a region-st slur, or close enough to one that it was definitely not anything nice to say at the very least. He was offended by the overall exchange, but remained lock-jawed and indifferent, silently continuing to avoid eye-contact. Playing the game, so that the others and himself could hopefully survive until another sunrise, and/or the next test.

Lillian breathed an uneasy sigh of relief with a brief flare of her nostrils in relative silence, before returning to a thin, neutral lip. Calming her minutely trembling fingers with a gentle squeeze. No, the situation wasn't as in control as it could be, but with a man like the General there wasn't much telling that anyone (let alone Haru, even) on their side would be able to rein in control; but Falke had handled himself well enough, keeping his thoughts on the situation in check and the overall success of the group as a whole on his mind.

“Tallyho Abel. February. The Sun People.”

Tallyho had moved to speak. Taking the mic and laughing spot-light off himself, if for a brief moment. He could feel her, much like a second mind underneath his skin; a seething rage for his own recent treatment, the redness still prickling her cheeks from her last comment, and emotions of anticipation of what the General's opinion of her "nation" was going to be. She kept herself as calm and poised as she could, and Falke gave her all of the silent mental support that he could in the against a verbal opponent that could care less about any one person - much less not too trodden on physical disabilities, ethnic/cultural groups, emotions, etc. No, he delighted in it, seemingly.

/Falke, I’m going to murder him in his sleep.\
/I know, I know the dirty pig deserves it, and I vould help, but... Figuratively, only...\

Goddess above! Was it almost over? Falke didn't know how long Tallyho would last much longer holding herself together with slightly flared nostrils, tight lips, and tense muscles, or frankly... How even he, with his surprising lengthy patience and forced/falsified good will attempts, would be able to last another 10 introductions of everyone else without potentially losing a screw, or two, in the process. Especially as the General went right ahead, recapping all of the insults from the past minute - Falke the invalid, and Tallyho the prostitute (dancer, singer, performing 'monkey'); daring another to step forward and amuse him even more.

"Dorian, also of Hales, sire. I am the March Warrior."
"Heyyy, Mr. General, sir. The name's Harper. June warrior, from the Trading Isles. Nice to meet ya. How ya doin'? I'm actually also the Officially Designated Asshole of the group, and I gotta say, you're kinda cramping my style. I mean, you know what they say about assholes... You only need one."
"Harper!"


Falke felt like one of the accidental times that Tallyho had shocked him good. Good as in not so great feeling, not at all quite like a mild static shock you could just shake off. Making it feel like his blood was hardly moving at all, chugging at an impossibly slow pace, and filled with ice-cubes - running cold. Was Harper trying to get them all killed? It was getting hard keeping an indifferent posture and blank face, but he remained outwardly calm. Let the General laugh it off, again, hopefully keeping moving forward, please...

"I am Jason of Solace, the warrior of August. I humbly ask you excuse my friend, Sire. However, with all due respect, Sire, making assumptions and judging one's ability and value based by appearances and nationality tends towards a poor judgment, no?"
"Xabier Sanchez of Constance, Sire. October Warrior."
“I am Autumn Jones, sire. I am the November Warrior and I am also from Solace.”
"Excuse my friends, most excellent general, it's been a rough couple days and many of us aren't quite used to the... Environment of your fair city. Oh, you want me to introduce myself? Kyle Keaton, April Month warrior at your service."
"Actually, Sire, I’m emerald. Skylar Grayson of Constance, May month warrior.”


Could it get worse? Yes, yes it could. Even with the helpfully polite, calm, and solid introductions of a few others. Most seemed more than willing to throw their lives away, less than helpful to their cause, and apparently wanting to die wholeheartedly - rotting with sarcasm and venom oozing in their tones.

Shocked silent, he didn't move, 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. He couldn't believe he was even here with these, these... Whatever, and stuck in this mess, and... Goddess above, they wanted everyone to die. They were willing to put their lives on the line because of simply insulting words. Yes, they hurt, of course they did, when it was directed at you or someone you cared about, but it wasn't worth dieing for.

“Actually I seem to have forgotten. Oops... Alright I’m done here!”
“Ah, with all due respect. I must know the details about the flock… ”
“Oh, oh, oh right… Yeah… I don’t really feel like telling you inbreeds anything really. You’ll see when you get there. After all, it’ll end the same way.”


General Cress just laughed, giggling maniacally as he kicked up his heels like an idle school girl, and left with nothing but a smirk on his lips. Haru was at a staggering loss, with no knowledge of the future to come, or anything they remotely needed to know in order to survive the next few weeks until facing an army of cyclopean with 12 warriors, and half the number of Guardians. Ondine launched herself at Harper, leaving the latter a pathetic slobbering mess and the former strolling away like nothing had happened. Skylar attempting to tell a joke to lighten the situation. Then Xabier attempting to comfort his 'friends', in varying amounts of emotional intent and meaning behind his words. And Tallyho...

Through their mental link, he felt her guilt, despite it not being her or his own fault of being called names, but by lighting the match of situation at hand that had been started from that very exchange. He could assume he would have felt it himself, even if a ridiculous notion in the long run if however somewhat reasonable to think at first, but he was overwhelmed and mentally incapacitated by the raging cerebral crackle from everyone in the room.

It was painful work, separating himself from the panicked thoughts, stupid ideas and ideals, and chaotic anger and fury, and it only got worse after Haru exploded into a rant. Feelings of anger or hopelessness or sadness or pity, others stress and stressors rolled across his inner circuits like a live wire and puddle of water unfortunately having the opportunity to mix together. It took all his energy not to wince at the onsault, calming his own mind steadily - silent, lock-jawed, and wordless.

“Shut up little man or I’ll give you something to really complain about!”

Falke blinked, a moment of clarity in the storming sea of mental activity, as everything froze. The echo of Haru's biting words finally catching up to him, understanding them, and only now feeling the traces of guilt butterflying deep in his gut. And then, Haru darted across the room into a magnificent brawl with the ex-solider who had made the latest quip, joined by fellow guardians, Ryou and Ondine, and other POW soldiers, the pressure returned for a brief moment - slowly becoming background noise again as he focused to ignore everyone else's chattering minds wanting to be heard and calm himself.

...(wip)

-x-x-x-

Two weeks later...
(WIP)

The flock of cyclopeans were fast. They always had been during training, but instead of waiting for the swarm to close the distance, Falke darted forward in a blink of an eye at Haru's bellow "Go!". Having enough presence of mind to bolt far to the side of Tallyho's screaming, lightning-inducing fit of rage and terror, before crashing into the first wave himself - meeting beasts with his dual-bladed weapon whirling out in front of him – a rapid series of slashes broken by the occasional lightning thrust.

Colored sparks showered out every time the blades met talons, and black gold spilled and sprayed as flesh was parted. It felt as if they were fighting in a blizzard of miniature stars and oily blood. His assault was unrelenting, aggressive, and precise. Even after months on the ship and two weeks stuck in prison, the cuts and parries came so swiftly from muscle memory and properly useful fear aiding him on. Monstrous alien screams and heavy appendages slammed hard into his upraised weapon, so that he felt the shock all the way to his bitingly sore leg when they hit. Ghastly wails accompanied by shattering onyx shards signaled the collapsing fall of a cyclopean. And on, and on, and on it went...

Falke wasn't sure what sparked a sudden sense of intuition, much less something that would have came from the mindless gargles and growls, hisses and spits. But he glanced upward at a spare moment, drawing a brief ragged breath, before being sucked back into the hard pressed melee of the frontal lines forces bashing. Minute rays of sunlight flashed across his grime and sweat-stained cheeks, barely alluding to the touch of a gentle warmth, quite unlike the raging battle-ground around him stifling heat. It had faded in strength since they'd been brought out first, near the point of time that the sun began its fall below the horizon, to now a time he could only guess at being dusk falling ever closer to night.

Yes, that was it. The bigger ones would be coming when they lost light, and probably focus their efforts on the gates, walls, and month warriors who's powers perchance gave off a little more light and energy than the next. Which would be soon then, one could only hope or assume. Effectively putting them even more in the dark, and while Falke had dim memories of being able to see a faded light once when he was young than continued to fade into nothing - he still well understood the basic human fear of the dark, and how well (or unwell for them technically) it could be used against them or to another's advantage.

Falke's limited powers had felt as if they were useless and/or petering out by the roaring thoughts of the others running on the back-burner as white incomprehensible background noise, even as they had ramped themselves up for the battle, and during it thoughts and emotions and feelings were likely abundant and loud; but they were to quiet to feel or tell about whatever was going on, so he'd ignored it, focusing on the task at hand - fighting, and trying to not die namely.

But now, he focused with a agonized wince at the familiarly painful experience as Haru's frantic, nearly excited, and focused aura of mental activity crashed into his mind eagerly. Putting his own slowly growing weariness in his braced and wrapped leg, and his anticipating emotions of rage and useful fear on the back burner of his own mind - in order to not distract from the task in hand. At least not anymore than keeping his weapon and himself moving in the midst of the fray, multi-tasking for now apparently; he hadn't figured it was possible, but whatever, it seemed to be working.

Idly he transferred his own thoughts and intuition about the coming events and potential figures, sometimes snagging something possibly useful to Haru's knowledge from one of the other month warriors or cyclopean he grappled with that had been loud enough enough that he'd even 'heard it, and keeping a mind's eye out to the others situations - he wasn't a healer by any means like Gwen, who's word he'd definitely trust over his own, but he still could give vague information to the fiery haired guardian when asked of it, mostly, more or less.

/The bigger ones should start arriving soon, what do you wanxdrctfgvybhuji...\

The mental connection abruptly shorted as the arm he had been dodging around, lashed out in another direction he hadn't intended on it going - namely, in the direction of his head. Falke gasped between gritted teeth, staggering dazed look in his eyes, even as he ducked again, swinging the stave up with deliberate perhaps orthodox method of getting rid of that dammed arm with a haphazard slice. Before his brain finally caught up his sixes and sevens, and he finally dispatched the beast - giving himself a momentary breath to collect himself.

/What do you want me to tell the others to do?\

Falke finished, shortly. Oi, so much for multi-tasking with his powers and fighting at the same time. Goddess above, that had rattled his noggin good. He shook his head with an odd twitching movement, as if that would make anything run faster upstairs, to try and rid himself of the lingering disorientation - before jumping back into the fore-line in continued silent, exhausted rage.

...

On the top of the wall, Lillian had placed herself to Haru's immediate left. As other Guardian's seemed more than intent to man the cannon when the time came or haul up a warrior or two whenever extraction would be needed. Ryou as his right handed man already had likely claimed the other side. And for the fact that she simply had sharp eyesight; while an extra set wouldn't necessarily be needed, but more than appreciated if need be.

Her dark eyes, narrowed in the limiting light, danced from one warrior to the next to the cyclopeans still coming, on and on. Calculating and silent, measuring everything with equal interest and purpose. They were doing well enough, for now...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Gwenneth Yuan
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The fighting had started with madness. Most of the month warriors running into the midst of it.
Electricity vibrating through the air, heavy gusts of wind whipping everything in its path, Cyclopeans scattering and being ripped to shreds.

Perhaps he should've spent more time with his weapon in the last few months instead of moping around and making eyes at Harper.
<Yes, perhaps you should have.> One of his dopplëgangers sent to him.
<And maybe then you would still have friends.>
Okay. That was harsh.
You see, not unlike his fellow European, Xabier could have full blown conversations inside his head. However, he could only speak to himself. So basically the same as a mental patient because he had arguments with the voices in his head and sometimes they won.
He had always wanted to ask Jason if he had the same experience with his dopplëgangers.
Like, did his act like a bunch of hormonal/homicidal teenagers throwing tantrums and constantly pointing out all his faults? Or was it just Xabier?

It was the weirdest sensation and probably not relatable at all but Xabier had never felt disliked in his life. People had always been friendly to him and he had lived his life surrounded by family and friends. With the fire and the betrayal, everything had shifted in his life. Suddenly no one was the same...even Xabier had noticed the change in himself. He truly didn't care about anyone or anything. Well except the obvious exceptions. It was as if the little fight that was in him had disappeared. He wasn't a doctor. Even after being prepped for years and having a shit ton of money pumped into his education, he was the "shadow guy." Gwen was the designated Healer in the group and he didn't dislike her, but it was a smack in his face every time he realised he wasn't the person everyone thought he was. Who he thought he was.

With that the Spaniard had called up his own help up.
"Ayuda! Help!"
The dopplëgangers took shape from the shadows and stood watching him.
<Okay. I need two of you to->
<No.>
Xabier started and stopped. A Cyclopean was so close to taking a chunk out of his shoulder, it's breath vile and rancid like death itself.
<What?>
The dopplëgangers just kept staring blankly.
<We said no. We're not doing anything.>
What the hell was going on?! He couldn't believe this was happening right now.
He didn't have long to think about this as the Cyclopean launched a furious attack.
It ran at Xabier, driving him back with a series of short powerful swings. He used his staff to help deflect the assault. He soon found that he didn't have the muscles for it.
Nothing was working. Xabier clutched at the Bo staff as if it was his life raft.

Holding it up against the snarling face of his foe used a lot of energy. He held on, and when he sure it was going to give in on him, he saw a gap and managed to get in a counter strike. The staff which always appeared to be made of pure wood actually had a thin layer of very small, very sharp shards of glass-like material. Like the stuff inside surgeons scalpels. The curious thing about his weapon was that it looked so useless and feeble compared to the others but it was capable of creating a lot of damage if you handle it right.

Jabbing at the curve of the Cyclopean's side where it had a weak spot. It saw it coming and moved out of the way, but it broke its rhythm, and its assault seized temporarily.
Now this would be when Xabier would call upon his clones and they'd systematically tear the Cyclopean apart. But that wasn't the case this time.

Xabier grabbed the breathing space and moved away, dancing around his enemy, loosening his muscles. He had tensed up under its attack and needed to work off any cramps before they took hold. The attack had given the Cyclopean some encouragement. It knew that it could eat this one. It almost strutted about as it moved in closer on its prey.

By way of a reply, the October month warrior suddenly lunged at it, an overarm downwards stab that took it completely by surprise. It deflected the blow only just in time and managed to knock the blow aside. Xabier was left wide open as the monster came straight at him, slicing its limbs upwards.
The impact of his own weapon slashed across his side, ripping at his armour and drawing blood from the side of his face.

"Shit!" He swore loudly and spun out off the way, but it wouldn't leave him alone for one moment, following in hard with a wild low sweep that took Xabier in the side of his shin and sent him tumbling, face first to the ground. The creature was on him, pouncing down again and again trying to get a bite. The Spaniard rolled and squirmed under the pressure so each attempt dug harmlessly into the dirt. He wasn't going to die today. Not before talking to Kyle.
Still it wasn't going to well for Xabier. This Cyclopean was vicious and it kept getting the upper hand.
He had been crippled by his dopplëgangers refusing to help him. He was looking like a goner wriggling on the ground in heavy armour.
At last the creature came very close to grazing his flesh and Xabier smashed the rim of his staff into its face so it too fell over. He scrambled up and it followed straight afterwards.
He looked around and noticed everyone else dealing with their own little battles. He'd have to deal with this on his own.
<Why are you acting like this? Why won't you fight with me?> He sent to his dopplëgangers who like the other non-month warriors, were watching in stony silence.
Xabier's face dripped blood while his foe only had a slight limp.

It pounced near him again and yet again he was back to defence.
This one was tough. And it was cocky. Every time Xabier swung at it, it moved out of the way, taunting him. Any second now it'd go in for the kill.
Xabier had other ideas. With one fast slam of the staff into the skull, he had finished the fight.
The monster collapsed under him, its screech angry and shocked. It had been so sure of itself.

Xabier staggered drunkenly and fell to the ground. God he sucked.

With every Cyclopean defeated by the other warriors, more seemed to reappear not even a second afterwards. And as the other Warriors were called up to fight he had fallen down again.
The second stage was coming.
His dopplëgangers or Iluntasuna just kept watching him struggling to keep himself up.
"Help me." He said. Tears mixed with the layer of dirt on his face.

A remaining Cyclopean dizzy from Autumn's attack stumbled up towards the Shadow warrior.
Even weakened as it was, Xabier knew that he was completely alone and no would come rescue him. He was alone. Alone.

<Help yourself> One clone shot back and they all faded into the shadows.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Autumn Jones
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And then everyone started yelling at him.

By everyone, of course he only meant Kyle and Autumn. And Ondine, who was screaming at him from above to get his ass in gear. As if he didn't already know that.

He didn't necessarily ignore them, but he didn't respond either. He was already nearly to his feet when Kyle pulled him all the way up before running off to the platform, saying something about trees and forests. Honestly, what even...

The trident grew slippery, and he pulled the sweat into his pressure jet, increasing its size and speed. Get your head back in the game he tried to tell himself, clutching the trident with shaking fingers. It's not over yet...not even close...can't stop swimming now....

He could see the second wave (only the second??) rising up like a tsunami, and he looked around him wildly, doing a mental head count. Everyone else had been doing fine, right?

Yet when he saw Xabi, shaking to his feet, a Cyclopean lumbering zig-zaggedly towards him, Harper's stomach sank. No. Not everyone else was doing fine.

The monster widened its jaws and brought an arm back.

It was like flipping a switch. Suddenly the trident didn't feel as heavy. The pressure jet revved up, spinning faster and faster. Both hands gripped at his weapon, and his foot pressed off from the ground and he was running. Cyclopeans in his way were jabbed at or gunned down and he saw red and black and white flashing like a strobe light.

And then he reached it. And he was behind it. And he brought his trident back. And he stabbed it down. And he did it again. And again. And again.

"DON'T!"

TOUCH!

MY!

BOYFRIEND!"

His last stab sliced directly into the ground, clattering against the black scales. He blinked, throat raw from screaming, shoulders heaving. He looked at Xabi. His face was bleeding. And dirty. And wet. His armor was ripped. Yet somehow his hair still looked perfect.

He managed a smile as he grabbed the October warrior's hand. "Hey babe," he said as he pulled him up, "Sorry I'm late."

Screeching could be heard growing louder. The second wave was upon them. Still holding Xabi's hand, he turned to face it.

"200. 400. 600. 800," he mumbled to himself, "Free. Relay." He gave the Spaniard's hand another squeeze before letting go, grabbing his trident.

Inhale. Exhale. Control the breathing. He whistled and tensed. Fingers clasped on the edge of the pool. 200. 400. 600. 800. Free. Relay.

Beep.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeep!

"Let's kill these motherfuckers."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Skylar Grayson Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Aria Delaine Character Portrait: Dorian Roberts Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel
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An obscenely ugly and absolutely careless behemoth blocked out the last rays of sun as the wall bustled with activity, both above and below. Above the wall, Haru and Nikita, though unnecessarily, called all hands to pull up the remaining warriors. The demon didn't even care about crushing its own! And the human warriors were even smaller than those! At the base of the wall, some of the smaller monsters crushed against it in a second living barrier. Kyle closed his eyes again. He couldn't allow himself to give in to this new terror, lest he lose his narrow control "I can do it! I have to do it!"

Haru's hot breath tickled the back of his neck. He swallowed and peeled his eyes open. The Boss gave his final instructions and the boy nodded slowly and whispered, "Yes, Sir." He noted the pale grey square in the dim twilight and did his best to focus on just that spot, to ignore all the shouting and running behind their place on the wall, the tensely snapped orders of General Cress not too far from them. He started trembling again. Focus, Kyle, Focus!

Commander Haru gave the order. Kyle raised his hands and straightened his back. The behemoth stepped into the grey square. A whoop pierced the air again and Kyle let his balloon burst. Smaller cyclopeans who lingered at the edge of the moat tumbled right into the muddy pit or fell back under the water as it pushed forward to cover the behemoth. The water dripped into puddles underneath it. To make sure he did the job, Kyle lifted up those puddles and tossed them over the beast once more. In a final burst of energy he called out, "Tally!" Then the boy collapsed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Please let this battle be over. He really didn't think he could do any more.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Ondine Azur
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As the platforms lowered and the giant black monstrosity grew closer and closer in focus, Harper struggled to keep everything together, including his bladder.

"Welp. I'm not sleeping tonight. Or ever," he quipped in a strained voice, everything tight.

Yet, as terrible and horrific as the scene was, his fear of heights almost won out. He hesitated for a full ten seconds, and only clambered onto the platform with Xabi and the others after Ondine screamed at him "HARPER I SWEAR TO GODDESS IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS UP HERE--"

This is ridiculous he told himself as the platform raised up, With all those cyclopeans down there, you almost wanted to say rather than go up to safety? Even if it is hundreds of feet high. And there's a possibility you might fall off. Or that the pulley might get stuck. Or that he stepped off wrong. Or the wall came crashing down anyways. Or that the cyclopeans got them mid-rise...

"Not helping. Not helping," he mumbled to himself.

When the platform surpassed 6 feet in height, he tried to sit, but was too scared of tilting the platform. So he stood, frozen like a statue, silent as granite, willing his feet to stay superglued to the wood and gripping his trident with one hand and Xabi with the other, tight as death. His were clamped shut, and as silent as he appeared on the outside, internally he was anything but.

When they reached the top, he had blindly stumbled off, still holding onto Xabi. But, for a second, he felt himself mis-step, Xabi slipping out of grasp, foot not landing where it should have. Panic rose from his stomach up to his throat and suddenly he was back to three years prior, when they had thrown him off the cliff and he was falling, falling, fall--

"Harper! Harper!" Shaking. "Snap out of it!"

Falling. He was still falling, right? Mentally he could feel himself plummeting downwards. Externally, he was on the wall, safe, curled up tight, knees to him, hands over his ears and eyes squeezed shut, trident clattered next to him. Ondine was shaking him and trying to get through. He had just fought a dozen or more cyclopeans. It was absolutely ridiculous that he would lose all composure on the retreat up.

She wanted to smack him. To yell at him. To shake him harder, force him to stop. But she didn't...she restrained herself. In their three years, she had never had to deal directly with his fear of heights, particularly in this extreme, but they had discussed it. She knew that he knew what he was feeling was irrational. She knew that he probably wanted himself to stop more than she did. She knew he hated feeling like this, and that it was hard for him to stop once it started.

"How then, do you expect me to deal with this if it ever happens?" Ondine had asked him one night, during his swim, "I only have so much patience for you when you're normal as it is."

"Just...talk to me," Harper had told her with a shrug, "Doesn't have to be anything substantial. As long as you're talking to me, like, non-stop, eventually I'll focus more on that. Just don't talk to me about heights or anything. Like, normal conversation. Rubbing my back or shoulders helps too, if you do it while you're talking." Ondine had scoffed at that.

"I'm serious!" Harper had laughed. He then ducked under briefly, before shooting back up, "Oh. And don't make a big scene. I hate it when that happens."

And so, hesitantly, Ondine reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, kneading it softly with her fingers, and talked to him as Haru relegated the next orders.

It was a children's tale, a sea-song for the urchins who called both land and sea home. She did not sing it, but did speak with a lighter voice, of the young whale who traveled the waters and fell in love with a princess. The story had two different endings; the original was sadder and ended with the whale's heroic death, as it dragged the attacking pirate ship--which had harpooned the whale-- to the bottom of the ocean. The second was more child-friendly, ending with the pirates having a change of heart for recognizing the power of love, and everyone got married. Ondine decided on the second one. Just as she finished uttering the last word, Haru launched the cannon.

In the second of dead silence between the bang and the crowd, Harper lifted his face, eyes red and watery, but open. And with the way it had timed out, it was almost as if the audience had been cheering his recovery, rather than the destruction of the cyclopean horde and its gargantuan leader.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kyle Keaton Character Portrait: Harper Calloway Fields Character Portrait: Tallyho Abel Character Portrait: Haru Karokav Character Portrait: Xabier Sanchez Character Portrait: Gwenneth Yuan
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Alone. Alone. Alone. Echoing and spiralling in his mind like an emptiness unable to be filled.

He was going to die alone. Alone, yet surrounded by people.
His own Shadows had turned away from him and they were part of him.
He was turning from himself.

And then the rough texture of another guy's hand grabbing his hand and pulling him upwards.
Not just any guy's, Harper's.
"Sorry I'm late, babe."
Babe. Not the most appropriate of things to call him in public. Especially after the decision to keep what they were doing secret. He hadn't overlooked the whole "Don't Touch My Boyfriend" part.
Still, he felt a surge of affection and something frightfully close to adoration swell in his chest at the sound of those words.
"Thanks." It came out quiet and subdued. He was still shell-shocked at his own dopplëgangers' betrayal.
And then again, a little louder.
"Thank you Harper. I owe you one." Face wet and dirty. Blood and dirt covered his clothes like a blanket. He looked like a shadow of himself...(if you pardon the pun.) And not a particularly good looking shadow at that.

When he let go of his hand there was a moment where Xabier wanted to grab it back. Just to feel the closeness again. The moment passed and he strengthened his resolve. No more of these thoughts. He was a bloody man for Goddess's sake! It was not the time for him to go sappy.
Picking up the Bo staff instead he braced himself to fight a little more.....


-----------


It was over so fast yet the seconds felt like little eternities. The voices of the spectators and the Guardians all melded into one large loud buzz. He struggled to keep himself standing tall. The final push had been spectacular, electric bolts combined with water covering the new wave of Cycopeans leaving the clearing covered in black gems.
Everyone had worked hard.
Kyle and Tallyho had made the final devastating blow while everyone else had chipped away valiantly in one-on-one fights.
It wasn't perfect but it had worked.
It was all thanks to Autumn that dealing with the next few Cyclopeans were manageable.
He'd need to thank her later.

Watching as Tallyho hit the ground, Xabier paused for a split second.
Whatever he did could cause more damage. Moving her the wrong way could be dangerous.
There was no question whether or not he'd help her.
His body moved on its own.

Titling her head back gently to open up airways while readying to turn her on her side in case she vomited, Xabier acted with his usual care.
For the moment no one was around her and he couldn't leave her alone.
Harper's actions had opened up his heart again. No one deserved to be alone.
And when he felt abandoned by everyone including himself there was still someone who helped him up.
Surely he could never leave anyone in pain alone.

He had acted selfishly in the aftermath of the fire and had pushed others away. It would take some time to forgive himself while holding no hope for forgiveness from the others. But he wouldn't give up on the things that made him happy to gain acceptance.

"You did a good job." He told her quietly. There was more he wanted to say, but he knew he would never say it.
"We won because of you."
His fingers pressed on the place between the ear and the neck, trying to get her to wake up.

"Gwen, can you keep an eye on Tallyho, please? If you're not busy." He called over to the Healer.
Maybe he was being stupid but he had recently felt a vibe that Tallyho disliked him for some reason.
It'd probably be for the best if Gwen looked after her instead. That and he knew that Gwen would be far more helpful.
No drama. No problemo.

He never claimed to be all knowing, in fact, people passing out under extreme circumstances were usually directed on to more experienced doctors. The basics were simple: place the patient lying straight, legs slightly elevated and most importantly on their side in case of vomiting. Try to wake them without smacking them or throwing water on them. Ya know, common sense. However, this collapse was triggered by overuse of magical powers and he was completely untrained in this situation.
If she didn't wake up after a minute or two, he would start to worry.
"Tallyho? Are you feeling better?" She needed to regain consciousness herself before he could move her anymore.
Goddess knows what kind of damage is done.

Harper was also caught up in his own private nightmare. But Harper had Ondine. He was being well looked after.
Xabier knew that leaving him made him a bad boyfriend but he'd make it up to him later.

His eyes flicked from Tallyho still lying there, to his boyfriend having a panic attack in his Guardian's arms and then to all the other worn out faces. He wanted to be able to split into multiple people so he could help them all. (The irony wasn't overlooked.)

Waiting until he was certain that she had someone with her to keep an eye on her,
the Spaniard quickly moved across to help Nikita with Kyle.
"Is he alright? Is he breathing? Heart beat? Temperature?" It was followed with a longer series of fast medical questions while he went about checking the face of who he had once considered his best friend. What had changed, he wasn't entirely sure and he would have to find out at a better time. None of that mattered right now. Xabier was in his "Doctor Mode".
All feelings and thoughts other than health were unnecessary.
"Sorry." He smiled weakly, a little of his tiredness showing on his face. He had presumed too much.
"I meant to ask, would you like some help?"