Xabier Sanchez's Story

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harper yawned, barely listening to Haru's speech about weapons. He didn't even remember falling asleep, or whether he had found Orion or not. All he knew was that he woke up with a crick in his neck, grass and dirt in his hair, and the worst cowlick ever. It was as if all of his hair decided to sit on top of his head, rather than all over. That was what he got for sleeping on his back.

He needed a swim.

The mound was probably the exact opposite of a swim, but at least it was underground and not in a tree. Harper shuddered at the thought of having to climb a tree. Heights...that was definitely high on his list of things he did not like. Not that he was really keeping a list...too much mental energy for him. He just made it up as he went along.

The mound began to rise on his list, especially after he bumped his head against the ceiling--not once, but twice--and then slipped as soon as the steps came in to play. He'd caught himself, hands against the walls, but it still damn-near gave him a heart attack.

"It's too early for this shit," he mumbled angrily to himself as he proceeded forward, a little more carefully this time. The thong of his flipflops dug in between his toes, and he still stumbled against the dark steps. Why were they even here anyways? To get some old-as-balls weapons that probably worked like crap? If they had belonged to the old warriors they must not have worked well, considering he and everyone else was here. Why didn't they just go back to Earth, pick up some AK-47s and be done with it? Or even better, get the god-damned military involved. Wasn't that what they were there for anyways?

"If they'd even believe us..." he muttered to himself. Still, if it was them who had seen the alien in central park, maybe they'd believe the whole prophesy bullshit and nuke the bastards. Or something.

Besides, what would he even do with a weapon? He imagined himself wielding a sword. Shit, he could hardly wield a baseball bat. A real man fights with his fists. A wiser man lets someone else do his fighting. Maybe some of these other bozos were eager to put their hands on a weapon--a few names came to mind...--but not Harper. He'd rather do what he did in the start and dive into a pond, swim away for--

Wait a minute! Harper's eyes widened and he perched his head up, banging it soundly against the ceiling once more in his excitement. "Hey!" he shouted, ignoring the pain in his head, "Hey, Haru! Can these cyclopeans swim??"

Xabier wasn't keen on talking apparently and Kyle sighed. "You know you can still talk to me if there's anything you have a problem with. Even if I don't know the answer, I could find someone who does." He gave the Spanish boy a friendly clap on the back,as was his habit, and added, "I won't push you though. Make sure you get some sleep, bro. G'night." Then Kyle finally conceded to go to bed himself. Admittedly, he was a bit annoyed by the lack of socializing in the group. How were they supposed to be a team if they wouldn't talk to each other? Kyle hoped someone would have ideas to solve this problem, because he sure didn't.

The next morning, the muscular blond was up by the time Haru came around. Despite his rather troubled thoughts upon going to bed, he felt more rested than he had all week. "Morning, Boss," he quipped with a smile as soon as he saw the familiar red head. He did have a bit of trouble maneuvering around the other bodies in their tent, and unintentionally helped Haru get people moving by bumping into them. One or two of the boys were missing from inside the tent, but once he poked his own head outside he found them. "Morning, folks."

As a true morning person, Kyle was a bit disappointed that he didn't get to see the sun rise. Coming here in the first place, he always saw the the sun rise from horseback. He expected it to be a grander sight from on the ground. Kyle didn't complain about that though and half-jogged alongside the group. "Don't we have to take down the tents and stuff? Are we actually staying in one spot for longer than one night?" Because Haru wasn't pushing to do such things, he was confused for a moment. His questions were answered in action though, since the boss kept going until they were outside the gate, and out of earshot of the guards where Haru explained the strange ways of the weapons. Already experience forced them to accept a lot of strange things, so he found it easier to do the same here. In response, he said, "That actually sounds pretty cool."

The whole time they traveled, Kyle kept up jogging, occasionally bounding ahead only to turn back when he realized he didn't know where he was going. Once they arrived at the mound, he froze completely. Kyle didn't like admitting to being scared of something, even when he did, but he was definitely scared of that dark hole which seemed to swallow Haru up, and then Tallyho, and others. The boy lingered longer outside, taking several deep breaths and closing his eyes before rushing in after them. He could still hear the voices and focused on Haru's gentle instructions. "Thank God for you, Haru," he whispered and almost hoped that the other teens wouldn't hear, but considering the proximity necessary to travel in the narrow tunnel, no one hearing him was unlikely to happen.

The blond crept along the wall feeling around with his fingers and keeping his eyes shut. Closed eyes didn't change the darkness, but at least with his eyes closed he could pretend that he was only asleep, and he'd be outside and safe again when he woke up. Also with his eyes closed, he felt the oppression of the narrow space less. Asleep meant in bed, in a safe place with windows and doors, or just a door as was with their tents. Still it meant a way out; that was what really scared him, not being able to get out. The further they got from the one door in this tunnel he knew about the worse he felt. At one point, the boy gasped and froze again, clinging to the wall.

Unfortunately, the further he got from the door, the harder it was to focus on Haru. Another voice caught his attention and he felt an arm over his shoulder. He wasn't alone! He wasn't buried alive. Carefully the boy reached up to touch that arm on his shoulder and gave a weak smile of his own. He squeezed gently and let go again. "S'okay," he mumbled through his strained breathing.

Xabier's friendly conversation helped distract him, "Thank you, yourself." Kyle let the Spanish boy gently lead him around the darkness and he could hear Haru again. "Oh, I'm supposed to be April with power over freshwater. Don't know how it's supposed to work though. What about you?" Kyle didn't remember if someone already said what Xabier's month and power was, but even if they did, it probably couldn't hurt to refresh his memory.

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

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

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

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

“We are here. Watch your step.”

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

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

“They will always burn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you seem to be doing fine.” Autumn smiled. “Your English is great.”

Xabier was nice enough, but the closeness was a little unsettling. Perhaps it was a cultural difference. Oh well, it wasn’t that big a deal. It was then that the young man left, though Autumn wasn’t quite sure why. It was a shame, she liked talking to him. She couldn’t hear Tallyho from here, so it presented a mild mystery. Seeing as she didn’t quite feel like solving it, she decided to get some rest. Entering the girl’s tent, she curled up and closed her eyes in hopes that she would have a good nights rest. She would return the medicine bag in the morning, and all would be well.

After waking up the following morning, Autumn had every intention to find the old man and return the medicine bag. The man, however, was nowhere to be found. She had no time to find him, either. Everyone was already moving out. Try as she might, he just wasn’t there. She had no choice but to leave, hoping that nothing too bad would happen.

As Haru spoke, Autumn changed her focus from thoughts of the medicine bag to thoughts of her potential weapon. What would it be? And the human manifestations, how would those work?

It didn’t take too long to reach the mound. She coughed as the dust filled the air. This place certainly wasn’t the most desirable, and the thought of aquatic cyclopeans was even more disconcerting. As she continued, she noticed the torches eternally burning. An enchantment, huh? She thought about the medicine bag again. If magic could keep those torches burning, then the medicine bag containing some sort of curse wouldn’t be too impossible.

Her own weapon was further away from the statue, most likely due to her month being at the latter end of the year. The weapon meant for her was certainly brittle, just as poor looking as Haru described, the heavy blade dulled and chipped. It looked like it was going to fall apart any minute.

She wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. Her knowledge of weapons was very limited. There was a large blade attached to a pole, and that was all she knew. To those who knew their weapons, however, one could see that it was a war scythe. An interesting weapon to say the least, like some sort of twisted spear.

She didn’t have much time to examine the weapon, however, as Haru informed them that the lobby would soon collapse. It took great effort to bring the heavy weapon up with her, but she managed. Holding it was all she could do. Using it in battle would certainly be a challenge. It seemed more suited to someone more fit and able. She had fat, not muscles, to define her body. As soon as she exited, she lay her weapon down and took deep breaths. Just how was she supposed to use this thing? She tried giving it one more lift, but the most she could do was rest it on her shoulder while her shaking arms tried to deal with the weight. Why couldn’t she get a bow and arrow or something?

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on. Find your month."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on. Find your month.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If we're going mountain climbing--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know about rock climbing and mountain climbing."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, he tried to warn them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*where does it hurt?
What is wrong?

Mr. Vo stopped the cart immediately. The old man was a little offended. It wasn’t too big of a deal but in his mind every youngster should know not to question an elder’s judgment.

“I’ve been driving this cart up and down this mountain for years. Once every week—sometimes twice,” he said. “I take care of everything, the cart and the creatures pulling it and I’ve had heavier loads than this bunch.”

Though the man’s voice remained calm, Haru placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. Mr. Vo’s monologue actually sounded a little cute—in the elderly, mildly confused way.

“We are fine, but thank you for your concern. Are you headed up to the academy also? You could travel with us if you would like to,” the Haru hummed. He seemed to be in a diplomatic mood but a sudden eruption from Harper sort of changed that.

Tallyho’s eyes shot open, bloodshot and weary. She had been half asleep for a while but after Harper’s outburst the blonde wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. That was right in her ear. Right in her ear. Since when did he even care about living?

Was his reaction really that necessary? He wailed like an infant—a fat, useless infant—who’s hungry for attention. And look at them—flocking to him, cooing over them. Before the monk could even open his mouth to respond to Xabier the accented earthling was hovering over Harper.

Oh Harper what is wrong? There is a monk spewing blood from his foot but the well-being of your mood is the most important…

As they shuffled about in the cart, Tallyho lightly placed her fingers along her temples. She couldn’t do this. The idea of spending what could possibly be the rest of her life with those people wasn’t manageable. She didn’t even want to be within five feet of them.

Not being one to wish without acting, she decided to walk the rest of the way. Tallyho wormed herself from the cart and stumbled onto her feet, pressing her back against the mountain wall to regain balance. She reached for her bag and mounted it on her back.

“What are you doing?” Haru asked, voice hushed.

The Arian didn’t answer. Instead she breezed past the new stranger who caused Harper’s eruption.

If one looked closely, they could tell that the monk was a little concerned about what kind of group he was dealing with. He adjusted himself to sit up a bit more and to put more pressure on his foot.

“I believe that she intends on walking the rest of the way,” he said. His voice was the only peaceful thing in the commotion, a fresh wash of sea breeze and matter-of-factness.

“How long?” Haru asked Mr. Vo.

“Maybe an hour?”

“Let’s go—everybody shut up. It’s almost over.”

The sound of Harper's sudden outburst almost sent Skylar flying from the cart, his shouts breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them and startling her.

So she had been right after all. Call it woman's intuition- or the fact that for once in the time they'd all been together, Harper had actually been speechless. To be honest, she felt terrible for him, the confidence he generally exuded replaced by terror. She was glad that she wasn't in his position.

Skylar glanced up at Xabier, shaking her head slightly. "I don't think he's hurt, he's just having a panic attack," She looked over at Harper, frowning. "Hey, Harper? It's okay, we're all okay. The cart is fine, we're not going to die. Shhh," She murmured, awkwardly patting his back. She didn't know how much help it would be, considering that they were still stuck in the cart for at least another hour, but it was worth a shot. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? We're almost there, just stick it out for a little longer."

From the corner of her eye she could see Tallyho hop out of the cart, the blonde seeming to have a similar idea to Gwen's. Smart people.