Aires

"Kyle!" Nikita shouted. Time seemed to freeze as her charge fell. The noise of the crowd faded into silence around her. All she could see was his body tumbling through space. She abandoned the cannon where she posted herself since they arrived, giving the free reign to Haru. Kyle was more important. She caught him only moments before crashing his head on one of the seats.

The boy was only vaguely aware of a familiar voice and touch. Those familiar hands lifted his head, allowing more breath in his lungs, and swatted his cheek. "Come on, Kyle." She gave a half-smile when he looked to her blearily, and attempted to move a heavy hand against his head. "Try this." An arm braced up against his back, and the other tipped a canteen towards his mouth. He claimed it and drank greedily as a newborn at his mother's breast.

Surprised gasps and excited murmurs broke back into both the warrior and guardian's hearing. Nikita's half-smile spread into a full one. Her sheltering presence blocked his view of the black rain that fell over the fields after Tallyho finished her part, but despite the excited crowd, they thought they could hear the tinkling gems. "We have victory, but there is one more thing left to do. You have to do it."

Still disoriented, he rasped, "What?"
"The farmers need their fields back." She moved to the other side of him, so he could see, and she could also see the massive piles of gems spread across the entire battlefield. By now it was dark, but the full moon cast enough light to see the gems shimmering.
"I..." He started but she interrupted. "You can and you will."

His body trembled with weakness, even after the water from the canteen semi-woke him up. He leaned almost all his weight on the edge of the wall. Puddles still spread across the fields, but they were already sinking back underground.

He forgot that cleanup duty was part of the original order. If he remembered, he could have pushed himself to hold on to a little more magic. He let go of it to give Tallyho space to do her own part and not have to fear hurting him with her electricity. Could he really pick it up again? He had to try. The boy concentrated on those puddles again and slowly, painfully slowly he pulled them back together, back to him. At least all his friends were still alive and safely on the wall.

Nikita chewed her lower lip until she tasted blood. One hand gripped Kyle's shoulder and she partially hugged him against her as he fought through his battle fatigue. She wasn't as obvious with her affection as Ryou, who seemed to be clinging to Dorian for dear life, but she did care about these dumb kids. Tallyho was already out of commission, which worried her, but the sun-child was still breathing. Although she probably didn't need to, the April Guardian asked Bryce or Gwen to help her if the January month warrior felt strong enough to try.

She was a simple sailor and knew she couldn't do any more for Tally. Kyle struggled also, and Nikita honestly didn't think he'd last much longer either. The confidence in her tone was mostly for his benefit. Based on what she knew of his personality, he always did better work when he felt other people believed in him. Not unlike a certain cabin boy she remembered from her ship.

She gave him a squeeze and stayed close as he fought his battle fatigue to turn those puddles into a spray to wash as many of those crystals As possible back to the forest they came from. That was the absolute last he could do and the heavy body fell back into her chest. She kneeled on the ground and held him there until whoever wasn't presently occupied with Tallyho could join her.

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.

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?"

Boyfriend.

Autumn did not have the pleasure of hearing the word up close. Rather, it was the spirits who informed her as that had always done. Apparently, Harper had no qualms about making his relationship public this time.

Boyfriend.

It was such a petty thing to be upset about, too. Autumn was well aware that there were lives at stake and that she shouldn’t be concerned with relationships at the moment but she couldn’t help but clench her jaw and scrunch her face. Adrenaline kicked in as she felt the heat of anger rise from her stomach to her head.

Such raw emotion only fueled the spirits further. Their attacks grew more aggressive, leaving visible wounds on the cyclopeans below. The frenzied nature of the attack, if anyone but Autumn could see the spirits, seemed not to coincide with her emotional state but rather simply feed from it. If anything, it was disorganized and sloppy. No doubt the spirits were abandoning her comrades in favor of sucking the energy out of whatever cyclopean they felt like. It was luck of the draw if a spirit happened to be helping a warrior.

Such was her anger that she hardly even noticed when the Goliath appeared. Such was her anger that she hardly even cared. It was odd, actually. In most circumstances Autumn would have been terrified. Rightly so. Kit, too, felt a great sense of dread simply by looking at the beast from afar. Autumn could see it in his eyes. Yet, she felt no fear.

This was not bravery at work. This was a lack of a proper reaction. Her mind was still so focused on anger that she wouldn’t even fear death itself. It was a bit of an odd, empty feeling. As if something was forced.

Seeing Harper and Xabier on the platforms only further enforced this. Autumn scowled, looking away from the two as if they were pox marked. Harper, after everything he’d done, asked Odine not to make a scene. What a hypocrite. She could have screamed in frustration.

It was Kit who reminded her of the task at hand. He tapped her shoulder lightly, causing her to swivel around. He instantly regretted the action. Autumn glared at him with eyes of ice, something he had never seen before. Still, it wasn’t as if Autumn was a threat. Though the action startled him, he wasn’t scared. He coughed and pointed at the Goliath.

If there was a way to cough sarcastically, Kit had it mastered. Despite Autumn’s obvious anger, Kit couldn’t let the opportunity slip by him.

Autumn scowled, but returned her focus to the grotesque cyclopean approaching them. She mumbled under her breath for the spirits to attack the giant in particular. They obliged in a frantic manner.

The darker spirit that had been content to remain next to her seemed to approve. It didn’t say anything, but Autumn could feel it.

The spirits attacked as commanded, leaving the occasional scratch and scrape on the colossus.

Then, with a large bang, it was over. The cyclopean fell and the crowd cheered. Autumn, with nothing else to do but simmer in her own anger, sat down.

Kit, for a moment, was silent. He almost couldn’t believe it. Then, in a way that seemed very not like him, he started to cheer.

“BLOODY FUCKING HELL YES!” He exclaimed loudly, his first instinct being to embrace Ryou in the same way a bear trap might embrace ones foot.

“Can you believe what these assholes pulled off!? Goddess damned kids can’t get along for more than a minute but damn can they kill!” Kit grinned, now firmly grasping Ryou’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. If he had a hat, he would throw it. For the first time in years, he was truly overjoyed.

He turned around to look at the group, finding that many had fallen. Autumn slumped over and lay on the ground, her cloak covering her like a haphazard blanket. So she had fainted, too.

Kit wasn’t too surprised by this. It wasn’t the first time that overexertion had caused her to faint. After all, at the end of the day the spirits did prefer human energy. Autumn had made it clear that they could get by on cyclopean energy, but their services were still part of an energy trade and draining cyclopeans of their energy was merely part of the service. At the end of the day, their payment was still her energy. Kit couldn’t help but wonder how much she paid for what she pulled off today.

Autumn lay on the floor, breath shallow but present. She twitched from time to time as the energy passed from her to the spirits.

The drama among this group of dumb kids wasn't unnoticed, but Nikita was smart enough to stay out of it. She didn't let the kids disagreements interfere with her judgement. From his behavior on the ship though, she didn't know if she could trust Xabier. He always ran off somewhere and disappeared, usually with Harper. Neither of those boys understood responsibility. His apparent effort to be responsible seemed out of character from her experience, but she didn't want to ignore it either. Responsibility needed to be encouraged, even more so, now that their presence is public.

She still held Kyle against her chest, and had to rearrange her shorter and thinner body to look between him and Xabier. The woman took a deep breath and sat on the ground. "First you need to get cleaned up yourself." With more careful rearrangement of bodies, she was able to free one hand to toss him the last of the canteen. "I don't know how much is left, but try to rinse some of that grime off your hands and face. You can't do anything if you can't see what you're doing." She noted a still bleeding cut by his eye and a lot of other blood and dirt all over the rest of him. "Hmm... Kyle looks in better shape than you are. Unconscious but no open wounds I can see and only a bit of mud on his pants from stumbling on the field. Might be better just to wait on Bryce and Gwen, unless His Holiness or the general has a field medic available." She tried to turn to see either the Harbringer or General Cress, but she couldn't move that far without dropping her charge. She sighed and stayed put.

He hadn't noticed the intensity of the pain until his hand brushed some of the grime and blood off of his face. The young man looked like he had just come out of a low budget horror movie. Murder victim no.10.

Sitting down beside Nikita and her fallen charge, Xabier appraised the others. In a cowardly way he was glad that Kyle wasn't conscious right now. As much as he had prepared himself to say something, to say anything, he was suddenly struck shy. There was no point of him running around trying to help people when, as Nikita had aptly put, Bryce or Gwen could do a better job. If anyone needed help, he'd help.
His eyes flicked from Harper to Tallyho to Autumn. He wondered if they were alright. If no one checked on Autumn in the next few minutes he'd go over himself. Just to make sure. And Harper. Must go over to Harper.

His body ached and begged him not to move an inch. The gaping scratches on the metal and flesh near his shoulder blade stung like hell.
He was torn between getting up again and going around to check or just sitting down to rest for a little while....

"Oh are you sure?... Thank you." He smiled gratefully and half slumped into himself.
He had finished up the last of the water, nodding at Nikita guiltily. "Sorry, I used it all."

He couldn't find the willpower to get up. His frame heaved under the armour and little droplets of blood dripped down his chest in a slow steady pace. Soldiers falling one by one in battle.
In his anxiety over making up for lost time, the Spaniard was dutifully ignoring his own wounds.

"Do you think we can leave soon?" It was said quietly for fear of the Grand Harbinger overhearing and adding on a Third Wave of Cyclopeans for the craic.
Wincing as he dabbed at his cheek with a scrap of material he had ripped from his trouser leg. One the pieces near his waist because the rest was filthy. Disgusting.
He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. He was bleeding, possibly to death, and he was worried about what he was wearing...

More than anything he wanted everyone to be alright and then go to sleep. Sleep mainly, and also a certain American.
The dark haired lad shook his head vigorously to get himself to pay attention to the present.

And as the blood dripped he could feel himself woozily swaying side to side.
No. Not yet. He hadn't gotten around to everyone. He went to stand up and promptly slumped back down next to Nikita.
"If I can't help...maybe...I can just...rest here...for..little while..?"
As soon as the words came out Xabier's head lolled to the side.

Ryou's suffocating hug lasted only a few moments longer, but it did more to anchor Dorian than any amount of conversation ever could. Ryou had a tendency to invade people's personal space, to crawl under their barriers and weasel his way through minute cracks in their defenses until you couldn't help but accept it. It helped the Guardian keep himself sane, threading fingers through Karma's hair, leaning on any number of his students for the sake of a personal physical connection, and even on those rare occasions when he could be found with a single hand on Haru's shoulder. He was also, Dorian had decided long ago, a damn good hugger.

When Ryou finally released him, it was to watch the magnificent finale of a climactic battle. He could hear Tallyho's thick sobs, Haru's howled commands as the behemoth moved closer, crushing shrieking Cyclopeans beneath its gnarled feet with each heaving step. The electricity was nearly invisible, but he could feel the current crackling through the air, his hair standing on end. There was a breath, then another before the Cyclopean goliath before them seemed to recognize the total system overload, seizing and convulsing like a toy robot shorting out. That was when the cannon ball careened through the air, striking its target dead in the center.

There was silence, an impossible silence that lasted for only a split second before the beast shattered, shards raining down like sleet towards the ground below. It swallowed those that remained, drowning and crushing the creatures unfortunate enough to be caught in the aftermath, onyx glistening in the remaining light. A chorus of shouts grew behind them until the entirety of Ve Marie seemed to come together in a deafening roar. Dorian's eyes stayed forward, blinking sluggishly as his brain feverishly tried to assure him that, yes, this was real and, yes, they'd survived.

Ryou, somewhere behind him, was whooping with joy which turned into pure delight when Kit flung his arms around the golden-eyed man. This was the moment that made it all worth it, the monkey Guardian thought as he twirled Kit around, resisting the urge to do anything more to avoid pushing his boundaries- almost worth it. Almost. The buzz lingered, coursing through his veins, but he'd had enough victories in his life that the addictive rush of adrenaline could only impair him so much. Now was the time to clean up, to lick their wounds until the next battle reared its ugly head.

Only so many of the Month Warriors were left standing, others crumpled on the top of the wall like marionettes whose strings had been cut. For some it was just exhaustion, an overwhelming use of their powers sapping them of their strength. Others, like Xabier, had more pressing issues with blood oozing sluggishly from an open wound. Those that stayed upright were exhausted from the battle, but that wasn't enough to stop them from moving to help.

Left to his own devices, Dorian ran a heavy hand through his own hair, a practiced method to clear his foggy thoughts. Right. Their work here was never done. He took in the group, fallen or being cradled by their Guardians, clinging to consciousness or submitting to exhaustion. Tallyho was being poked and prodded by Xabier who didn't look very well fit for the job with red blood, human blood staining his clothes. But she was okay, for now, and he tottered over to the fallen Autumn, at a complete loss as to what to do. He knelt down with some difficulty, limbs now stiff with overexertion, and checked her pulse. Okay, so she wasn't dead, which was good. Shaking hands searched her head for injuries and finding none from her fall, he drew back awkwardly. She was breathing slowly but steadily, which was also good. He wracked his mind for something, anything he'd learned in the Academy's basics on first aid before grasping onto the idea of fanning someone. Right. That was a thing. He could do that.

It took very little cajoling for the wind to do as he pleased, a constant breeze brushing across Autumn gently but insistently. It was all he could think to do.

"Hey, Kit!" Ryou was shouting now, but not angrily, just to be heard over the loud din. "Go sit with your warrior, alright? Dorian, it'll be fine!"

Hopefully. Dorian retreated, scooting back until he was seated next to Tallyho who, of course, he was equally useless in assisting. Well, nearly. With all of dignity left in his blood soaked body, he retrieved a dark blue handkerchief only mildly speckled with red and black blood that had already dried into a crust, and began to dab at her face, wiping up errant snot and tears as best he could. After effectively taking down the largest Cyclopean anyone had ever seen and helping to save the day, she had the right to at least be unconscious without snot covering her face.

Ryou was moving as well, but to Xabier's side. The boy didn't have a Guardian of his own, Nikita had Kyle to fuss over, and Ryou's own charge was well enough to wander around without constant supervision. So, with all of the patience and expertise of someone who'd seen and treated far too many scraped knees, mangled limbs, and broken bones in his day, he set out to work on the Spaniard.

It was easy enough to say that the battle had taken a toll on everyone. But it was over now, and the citizens were still cheering and chanting—throwing their expensive alcohol over the side of the great wall with red, gleeful faces. Tallyho, though not completely coherent and probably unconscious, could somehow feel the presences about her body. She did not however feel comforted by them until a cloth steaming with a familiar warmth dabbed her face dry.

Haru had not moved from his spot. Instead he sat there on the ground—knees bent and spread on the cobblestone like a child’s in the grass of a meadow. Breath shallow, eyes unblinking. Time seemed to run slowly for him and he did not resume the normal standard of time until callused fingers pressed into his shoulder. He looked up to see a decorated officer, one of a substantial ranking but not nearly as high as General Cress. He did not introduce himself but delved right to the point:

“All of you are to come with us.”

His voice was not authoritative however. It was actually quite accommodating. Almost as if he were saying, “Don’t have a place to sleep? Here we’ll take care of you—hospitality.”
And Haru found this particularly ironic because as his gaze panned back he caught sight of knights in the same uniforms that escorted them off to jail.

But Haru knew that they had nothing to fear this time and gave the blessing. Medics from the group moved in without warning, scooping up warriors who had collapsed from exhaustion or were significantly injured.
The walk they shared was no walk of shame. She knights did not bind the warriors by the arms and march them down the street. But meandered around them like agents of protection, offering a hand if someone stumbled. They were taken to a military occupied house where each party member was given a comfortable bed to share in the presence of about three others. They were fed, allowed to clean themselves up, and redressed (quite simply) before being left to rejuvenate before moving to what the knights assured them was going to be a more fitting location.

But they weren’t to leave until certain agreements where made. Haru was made aware of the required session well into the beginning of their stay and on the third day he was preparing to go to the courthouse.

“So what is this for again?” Tallyho asked flatly as she appraised Haru from the doorway for the main room, her thick hair pulled into swollen twin braids, a partially opened pomegranate clasped in her right hand.

Haru straightened his tie as he plucked at his form in the mirror.
“It’s politics.”

“What?”
“I am going out there to meet with the important people. To ensure the government’s support of the group and our protection.”
“…Okay?”
“All of you should be ready to move on to the next place by the time I get back.”
“And what if this doesn’t work?”
“Trust me, we can’t lose now.”

Haru didn’t leave much time for Tallyho to express her doubt before fleeing the scene. Black coattails slipping out the door.

Haru would be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least a little bit worried. His palms were sweating a bit—why he hadn’t felt this way since he was alive the first time. He guessed over and over in his head which authorities would be at the table: A cardinal from the church and a man from the military perhaps? Members from the king’s council? He tried to plan out what they would say, how he would respond to their questions, try to appeal to their interests.

But when he walked into the room he was a bit surprised to see who he saw. There were about twelve men in the room, all in various uniforms and from varying occupations in the government but towards the end of the table were three noble chairs. The first contained a more familiar body. There sat General Cress, a small scowl on his face but nothing overtly vicious. Across from him was an older man clad in regal apparel. A feather in the hat, puffy sleeves, a grand get up. It was only after a moment of pondering that Haru realized that this was King Rembrandt the Wholesome. The low key but celebrated king of Ve Marie, and unlike General Cress the King offered an expression of genuine welcome. Between them, at the head of the table was none other than the Grand Harbinger himself, his frail, ring clad fingers posed on the table like a mannequin’s.

And so the negotiations were to begin.

Those who stayed behind at the inn before the group was arrested were welcome to reunite with the group the day they prepared to relocate. When Karma caught sight of her adoptive father (Ryou) she clung to him mercilessly. On the day that Haru went to his meeting he came back with little more to say than a firm, “Let’s get out of here everyone.” And so she followed, not entirely sure of the situation at hand. They ended their escorted walk by the time it was sunset on a finely paved path before a grand gate. Before this gate stood a tiny, almost doll-like woman.

The little woman pushed her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose, with round frames that, despite how uncomplimentary they were to her face, long and thin as a grain of white rice, somehow grew to look fashionable the more one looked at her. And it wasn’t hard not to look at her. Her mousy hair was cut into a demure bob with bangs that hung over thin brows in heavy, even layers. Her aging ears peaked out from her locks occasionally, as she bobbed her head this way and that when speaking, revealing lobes that were beginning to grow downwards, and reminisced over heavy earrings worn in her youth. Fine wrinkles made vertical lines on the area above her lips and under her nose. It seemed as though she had pinched too many babies’ cheeks and made too many kissy faces for a normal person’s taste. She was small in stature, substantially shorter than Haru or Tallyho at least, with slender, no, dare I say, ‘twiggy’ limbs that moved with so much expression you might think they’d break by sheer velocity. She was a sharp dresser though despite her unconventional look. Her dress was red, a bold bright red with grand shoulder pads that squared out her frame nicely and long buttoned sleeves that cropped right at the wrist, and a petticoat that was fuller in the back, making her breast-less profile a bit more of a representation of what men in songs say when they mention ‘womanly curves’. As she pulled open the gates and walked them further down the path she did not neglect to mention that she made her own dresses. She hadn’t even introduced herself.

“I’m sure many of you have heard of the plaza, the most famous part of Ve Marie’s castle, but most of you might not have ever dreamed of entering. Yes, this has been the living complex of the royal family since its construction in 1300 A.B. Many of the royal family’s cohorts have lived here also, most recently our great Harbinger and now you.”

Tallyho shuffled slowly, taking it all in. The plaza was already supposed to be the most well-manicured thing on the continent and she hadn’t even gotten over the courtyard which was impeccably groomed and full of shrubbery cut into various, visually tantalizing shapes. Tallyho felt quite simple really. How did the flowers grow in perfect square plots according to color? How could nature do that? Grow red roses next to yellow with such a bold transition? Poor girl hadn’t even considered the fact that the gardener’s might have transplanted them. Nonetheless, her attention was taken to the assortments of marble people who posed frivolously around the grounds, heads thrown back, and water spewing from their puckered lips and onto fountains and pavement.

Soon they were entering the building. Two armored soldiers pulled open grand doors that were about as high as three Haru’s put together. As the group filed in, the chatty woman, now identified as Mildred, continued her speech.

“This is the stair room. Giovanni Rembrandt—who was the king in power at the time of the plaza’s construction—had marble imported all the way from the Sea of Milk in order the pave the floor. On the walls there are paintings of some of the Kingdom’s most valuable and legendary knights done by visual masters and national treasures such as Piku, Geoffrey the Red and Fenwick. And of course those two spiral staircases—which is why this is called the stair room—“

Mildred snorted at her own joke.

“The story behind these magnificent pieces of architecture was that when his Royal Highness Giovanni’s wedding anniversary was coming up he asked his wife what she wanted for such an occasion and she told him that she wanted more space. This surely put him in a dilemma because most of the castle’s important buildings such as the great library were already being built around the plaza, so he couldn’t knock those projects down. But she wanted more space. So he contacted a few skilled architects and they found that the only solution was to build upwards and they just never stopped. The plaza is already up to four stories, which is well over the limit if you ask me! Nevertheless, Kings after Giovanni realized this also and expansion on the plaza officially stopped in 1463 A.B, BUT there are still spots at the top of the plaza where fifth floor construction already started and was never attended to. Anyway, later on today I will show you how to get upstairs and how to get to your respective rooms. Did I mention you are living here? We have enough space in here for all of you to have your own spaces if you so choose. The royal family isn’t nearly as expansive as it was in years before. Come, come…”

Mildred made a turn down the hall and began to show the group other facets of the plaza. They stumbled across studies, baths, relaxation areas, most of which Haru found rather indulgent and unnecessary. Nonetheless, he listened when Mildred insisted on talking about what scandals the plaza has kissed and where and why.

Tallyho was the most excited about the dining room which was, in essence, the size of the academy’s dining hall but with one long food ridden table that everyone who lived in the plaza was allowed to sit at and partake in. Her mouth welled with warm saliva as she eyed the food which was continentally diverse and abundant in every way:
Baskets of produce, white corn grilled over the fire ready to be peeled from their husks and slathered with fresh butter. Strawberries and bananas huddled into bowls with peaches whose pits where buried in soft orange flesh, uncooked banya complete with its prickly peel and ready to be cleaved by prying, hungry fingers. Pies, meat and fruit alike, some small enough to warm just the palm of one’s hand, rose jelly of many varieties and colors, breads and puddings drowned in cinnamon and sugar. Fine cuts of tender meat, pork and beef and chicken and fish that wafted delicious aromas down the hall. Large shrimp and salmon wrung from eastward piers. Cabbage and ginger soups and hot cereals. Finger sized cakes accented with coco beans for decoration. Tallyho was extremely hesitant about leaving this room, and wished that the tour had ended there. Not just because she put more thought into foods than her actual peers but because that was probably the most well put together spread she had ever seen and she wanted to experience it before someone messed it up for all of them.

As they left the room Tallyho’s senses were overtaken by a soft, melodious sound. The calming whistle of strings and the ting of the harpsichord and suddenly a voice, a voice that upheld itself with a humble beauty.

“It seems she is practicing,” Mildred hummed quietly.

Just as she said this the voice died down, allowing the harpsichord and violin to dominate the melody, each chord and note vibrating with certainty and precision down the echo of the hall. Fingers bounced on the harpsichord’s keys with a special pep in a solo before the violin bellowed in with sharp, firm strokes of the bow. Mildred led them closer and the voice rang again, not singing actual words but frivolous ‘ah’s’ and ‘lah’s’ that were just enough to convey the chipper tone of the composition.

Tallyho, along with the others lumbered towards the room where two young women chimed away with their instruments and the third, very much like a candid song bird who slipped her way into someone else’s practice twittered away, her back to the door as the strangers entered.

Mildred urged them to be quiet until the young woman finished the piece, her soprano sent calming reverberations that could have urged the baby blue paint on the walls to shudder and melt.
Soon her voice became softer and softer until it was nothing. The young woman on the harpsichord peered at the large audience with curiosity. The violinist turned too. And soon the singer, with a slow grace turned her attention to the new distraction, a host of strangers fumbling through her plaza with saucer eyes.

Tallyho studied the young woman. Honey hair hosted a set of curls and not the kind of curls that Tallyho or Lillian wore. These were curls most likely for fashion if anything else—a purposeful beauty trend. Her heart shaped face and high cheekbones gave way to gray eyes that glimmered with a lust for life. Her lips were tight, as if she were trying to suppress a smile or a laugh, small white hands fidgeted at the skirt of her yellow dress. With a slight tilt of the head, the kind that, instead of for confusion, was used to condemn a rascal in the act while still being polite, the young woman spoke to Mildred.

“Now certainly you weren’t standing there the whole time?”

Her face was becoming pink and it was apparent that she was a bit embarrassed.

Mildred laughed, “Oh, don’t be silly Princess!” She turned to the warriors and gestured towards the girl who she had just referred to as a princess.

“This is Princess Morgan, the only daughter of King Rembrandt and the younger cousin of General Cress.”

Then she turned to Morgan.

“Princess, these are the Month Warriors. The only and true.”

Any grace the young woman had prior to introductions was thrown away in one brief moment. As the musicians behind her exploded into their own chatter of excitement. Morgan hopped slightly, her hands moving from the fabric of her dress towards the group in a gesture of disbelief.

“Oh! Oh, oh, oh! You were the ones who did the flock! Oh! How I wish I could have seem that! Oh I heard so much about it though from my cousin! I heard that all of you were Za-ping and pow-ing and the boom and bam!”

As the princess howled relatively unbelievable sound effects she moved with purpose, her tight fists punching the air daintily as she posed like a super hero from a 1950’s comic book.

“Okay, okay that’s enough Princess…”

“Oh do they have plans already? Let me take over the tour huh? I’ll show them their rooms, and take them to the gardens down the way if they really want!”

“Princess… I’m sure they don’t—”

“Ooooh Oh pleeeaaaase Mildred? Please?”

Mildred looked to Haru for approval. The cat guardian glanced around the room, relatively caught off guard. Why were they asking him anything? He thought he was off duty.

“Ah…Whatever is most convenient for you Princess…” he struggled to switch to his diplomatic cap.

“Oh just call me Morgan!”

Nikita smiled gratefully while Ryou took care of Xabier. She had no idea why he collapsed beside her, because the injuries she could see didn't seem that serious, but he did and the weight of the two well-grown boys was too much for her smaller body to support. All she could do herself was keep his head from cracking on the wall. One hand under his head and the other wrapped around Kyle's middle.

She was cautious of the medic that came to carry them away, but when the man told her he was a medic and she saw the badge on his shoulder she let Kyle go. The smaller brunette didn't stray too far behind that same medic though, a tenacious shadow. She stayed with her charge until he woke up. He still seemed somewhat dazed and tense after the fact. "Easy. It's okay now. The soldiers left some clothes for you to change into and---"

"Soldiers!" He jumped out of the bed. "No! We killed it! I'm not being locked up again!"

The boy was frantic, and maybe paranoid. The smaller woman also jumped from her place, and beat him across the room. She reached for his shoulder and blocked his path. "Kyle, listen to me. You aren't locked up. After you passed out at the battle, a medical officer brought you here, where it's safe. It's not a prison but a barracks. Look!" She let go of him, giving him a chance to see for himself, but she stayed close by his side. Lucky for her, he had the sense to pay attention. He lightly held on to her hand as he paused to obey. "See, no bars or locks, just an ordinary door and window." A soldier did stand outside that ordinary door, but he only stayed long enough to see Kyle awake and ask if he needed anything. The April Month Warrior shook his head and retreated back into his borrowed room.

Three days later, he still seemed dazed, but the effect was mostly because he didn't believe this was real. After what he started calling the "Betrayal of Fire," he struggled with the fact that there could be any peace. Technically they were in a more comfortable limbo than they experienced in the jail cell. He heard the talk that they would be moving again and Haru got all dressed up before going away for a few hours, just Haru though. The rest of the guardians and warriors remained behind. Kyle was happy to let him. The political games already experienced were more than enough.

One thing that pulled him out of his daze was the return of their academy companions. For the first time ever, Karma wasn't annoying. She said nothing as she clung to Ryou like a barnacle on a boat, and acted like she didn't even see anyone else. Kyle even gave her a little half-smile. His smile expanded on seeing the older academy members. He didn't even know he missed them until he saw them coming up behind the little pink-haired girl. Before this point, Liam actually scared him, but now he didn't care. He stuffed the last bite of his breakfast in his mouth and nearly charged them with open arms. "Mished oo eyes" He paused and swallowed the bread, before repeating himself. "Man, I missed you guys!" He clapped his arms as far around Dae, Mori, and Liam as possible. "You probably want to see Ryou though." Up until the Betrayal of Fire, these three were his teachers, his memory unpleasantly supplied. He backed off with a slightly red face and tucked his hands in his pockets. They may have been his teachers, but they were Ryou's students and family first. They were also the only other survivors of that betrayal.

As soon as Haru returned, he gave the simple order to leave. Kyle said nothing and followed him. On the walk, he saw Ve Marie was a lot nicer than he remembered, but that may be because the last time they traveled through the city streets they were prisoners. He shuddered and picked up the pace, as if he could run away from the painful memories. To distract himself, he asked, "Where are we going?"

He received his answer when they stopped before a spectacular gate presided over by a tiny frenetic woman in red. Even when simply standing in one place she was never still. Her head bobbed and her fragile hands constantly moved. She was worse than Haru in one of his obsessive moods. The young man raised a brow as she immediately launched into a lengthy monologue about how wonderful the plaza was and the history of the royal family, all the stories and legends about the place. Kyle couldn't keep up with her speech, so he focused on their changing and overelaborate surroundings. Talk about truly being spoiled. If he was a greedy person, he'd never be satisfied with anything in life after this. He caught part of the woman in red's babbling. They would live here?! This is too much! They went from prisoners to princes and princesses. This cannot be real.

The smells of a massive banquet were definitely real though. He caught a glance at Tallyho's face, and probably did something Haru would call foolish, but maybe he wanted to be foolish again. Maybe he wanted a taste of his almost carefree days before the betrayal. He fell back after the rest of the group passed into the music room with the fragile-looking girl singing. He was with them long enough to see where they went. He let them go ahead and drifted back to the banquet room, grasping a fresh banya in each hand. He hid one in his shirt and returned to the group. Before the music stopped, he tapped her shoulder to get her attention and handed the banya fruit to Tallyho, whispering, "This is your favorite food isn't it?"

(Note: This post is meant to move things along plot-wise. This plot-moving portion was suggested by Lauren herself and planned by her as well. I've just written it because God knows why. )

Things were moving now, the awkward but momentarily lull after the battle whisked away as medics hurried onto the scene, collecting the unconscious and wounded and prodding at those still standing as if to make sure that they too wouldn't suddenly collapse. Dorian allowed Tallyho to be carried away, satisfied with his work even if his handkerchief was in dyer need of a wash or two. Or ten. Regardless, he stuffed the piece of fabric back into his pocket- more because his clothes were a lost cause at this point and a little Tallyho-snot and extra blood couldn't ruin anything- and, waved off the ministrations of a nearby medic who retreated with some relief (Dorian liked to pretend it was because he didn't want to drag someone as tall as Dorian off, but deep down he knew with the amount of Cyclopean blood drenching his body wasn't helping his natural resting bitch face).

The walk this time was incredibly dissimilar to what they had endured the first time guards tried to take them anywhere. There were no jeering crowds, no pitying stares, no being sandwiched between two knights apparently intent on keeping you from having personal space. The atmosphere was lighter, loud and joyous, and the jeers had transformed into whoops of joy and shrieks of triumph. It was unnerving to feel like the center of the crowd's attention as one of the few month warriors still walking on his own, and he ducked his head. That didn't take the attention off him per say, but at least he didn't have to see anyone that way.

"Cheer up, Dorian. Wear your victory proudly, Mr. March Warrior," Ryou's hand was on his shoulder, even if his eyes were dancing over the crowd, searching for familiar faces. It occurred to Dorian then and only then how desperate Ryou must be right now having been locked in prison without any contact with his child, his students. The grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and Dorian followed Ryou's gaze, picking through the crowd until he saw a blotches of pink and white suspended next to each other, waving frantically. Karma was perched on Liam's shoulders, probably shouting something indecipherable and Mori on Dae's, unmistakable tracks of fat tears of relief pouring down his pale cheeks. Ryou's grin was now blinding and Dorian couldn't help but crack a smile of his own.

When they arrived at the safe house, Dorian's destination was clear. He made a bolt for the bathroom practically diving into the heated water to wipe the gore off of his body. God, this was what he missed most- cleanliness and not smelling like he'd taken up volunteering at the local slaughterhouse. The prominent beginnings of a beard were shaved away leaving only one errant knick in his haste. Dressed in new clothes- and damn if they didn't feel better than any Armani suit or Versace shirt ever did (that was an absolute lie, but Dorian felt the occasion called for some exaggeration)- he finally allowed himself to sit down, eat, and to accept the fact that his muscles would never stop feeling sore.

The days passed swiftly until a certain nervous energy began plucking at the air. Maybe it was because something awful always happened when Dorian finally had time to put his feet up, but he couldn't find it within himself to simply relax. This feeling was heightened when Haru disappeared for a day with politics on his mind and hopes heightened by their victory. Ryou himself was about as badly off if not worse, lingering near the window during the day and tossing and turning at night. It seemed no matter how pleasant the housing, being separated from his students, his children was now nearly unbearable after catching a glimpse of them.

That was until the day of relocation when Karma burst into the house, rushing into Ryou's arms like a pink blur, Mori not far behind with Dae and Liam, lingering back with the sudden onslaught of affection from Kyle but only for a moment before joining in on the massive group hug. Dorian had to look away, not sure if it was out of his own reservations about PDA when Ryou started peppering their faces with kisses and seemed unwilling to let any of them more than a foot away from him or if it was to give them privacy as Mori quietly sobbed against Ryou's side and Dae and Liam clung to Ryou's hands fiercely. The older two separated after some time and congratulations were apparently in order for the month warriors and didn't it feel damn good to have people who had taught them, who had watched them grow into the people they were today, praising what they'd done?

He followed Haru without any hesitation, taking up his default position by Tallyho's side until they arrived at their destination. A grand gate loomed over them and he took a moment to marvel at it before they were approached by their guide.

Mildred certainly made an impression. Small in stature, she dominated the space she stood in with her bold outfit leaving him suitably impressed by the fact that she'd designed it herself (no one should be that surprised- he knew his designers with all of the expertise of someone who had unlimited access to far too many fashion magazines and who also had to dress a man whose idea of formal wear included a bright yellow shirt and an vivid, polka-dotted orange tie unironically).

She played tour guide with an immense amount of expertise, leading them through Ve Marie's castle with an onslaught of information as if to make sure that they were appropriately amazed and humbled by being able to see within the castle's walls. And it was magnificent, no doubt about it, and for the first time in a long time Dorian let himself simply enjoy the experience. It was clearly the creme de la creme of Airian society, unnecessarily extravagant but serving its purpose of grandeur.

The music was the first thing to distract Dorian from Mildred's monologue. He may have been able to purposefully ignore the delightful scents wafting from the dining hall with all sorts of meats and sweets to tempt and tease the palate coquettishly, but he would never be able to ignore the strains of what was unmistakably a violin dancing with the strains of a harpsichord. There was a third sound as well, a delicate almost fragile melody of not-quite-words intertwining with the music, like a small bird tittering away in a high but pleasing tune. Even if they hadn't stumbled upon the room (or not stumbled- Mildred would never do anything so frivolous as stumble), he would have spotted the singer instantaneously, just as petite and sweet looking as her voice as a blush rose on her cheeks.

He shouldn't have been surprised that she was a princess, but he felt perfectly justified in his shock that she was related to General Cress. The thought was pushed aside for a time as the lady-like impression Princess Morgan so dutifully gave off shattered with her exuberant whoops(although Dorian wasn't exactly sure how good any of them came off if General Cress was the one telling the story) and excited gesticulations. She seemed more a child than anything, but that wasn't bad. In fact, it was rather pleasant and absolutely charming given the people he'd been dealing with up until now. It was, however, completely overwhelming for someone to act as if they were actually heroes, not a ragtag group of often bickering and dramatic young adults who just barely survived everything that ever happened to them.

She was begging now to take them on her own tour, an insider's look at the palace, and who were they to refuse? When her wish was granted, she swept out of the room movements too excited to be graceful as they started on Grand Tour: The Sequel. Except, of course, it wasn't too terribly grand. For all of her enthusiasm, her mind was scattered, jumping from one subject to another in an eternal game of hopscotch. Here she went on about her favorite hiding place as a child, just perfect for hiding from nurses and maids before her mind wandered to a particular vase that she'd nearly broken once. They spent the majority of the tour in the gardens once more, Morgan dancing through the foliage like a particularly distracted fairy, stories trailing off into new ones and points half made. While it wasn't nearly as educational as Mildred's dutiful recounting of the castle, it was infectiously fun.

The tour bled into dinner where they were presented with a meal far grander then they were used to although not as large as one would assume when dining with royalty. Of course, to be fair they shouldn't have been eating with the Princess- she'd simply refused to leave. Morgan plopped down between Mori and Karma seemingly finding kindred spirits in the two children who had only just now agreed to let go of Ryou after clinging to him all day, although her conversation carried over to anyone and everyone who would listen. It was nice, for once, and Dorian found himself speaking slightly more than usual, adding an odd comment every once in a while between carefully cutting up his meal (and wasn't it something to have different spoons for soup and dessert) and idly pushing any and all banya products from his plate to Tallyho's.

The evening came to a close as they were dropped off at what Mildred had dubbed "the stair room", with instructions on how to find their rooms. The rooms were for individuals, a luxury that no one had known to expect, although some chose to stay in their rooms together, like Karma who refused to leave Ryou's side and the Academy Three who were about as likely to sleep alone as Dorian was to, say, have coffee with a Cyclopean. He hated coffee. Then and only then did Princess Morgan leave their side, cheerfully calling out goodnights until she disappeared from sight.

Most retreated to their rooms automatically, drawn by the promise of soft beds and clean sheets. Others lingered, socializing as they pleased even as the night wore on. Soon it was late, the moon high in the sky and the stars twinkling and illuminating the sky.

It was after tucking Karma in and waiting a moment until soft snores began to emanate from her small body that Ryou left his room. He made his way silently down one of the halls housing the guest rooms, rubbing tired eyes as he passed by closed doors. His destination wasn't that much of a surprise as he stopped outside Haru's room, raised hand hesitating for almost a moment before knocking gently against the door. As much as sleep called to him promising him his first restful sleep in ages now that he had his children back, he'd seen the nervous look on Haru's face, the strain pulling at his friend and, as with all things Haru, he wasn't able to resist.

Dorian too had strayed from his rooms, but for something far more pleasant. He'd been with Tallyho, her room illuminated by candlelight and the artificial glow of his cellphone. It was only a quick trip, at first, to check in on how she was settling in and to get a charge for his phone, but he'd quickly been drawn into their art game as they scrolled through the saved images on his phone. But now it was getting late, both already letting out a chorus of yawns until the call of sleep seemed unavoidable.

"Right again. Vincent Van Gogh," he nodded, exiting the screen from the swirling "Starry Night" painting. He sat up from his place on her bed, stretching broadly, fighting against lingering aches and pains. "And that'll be all for tonight. Get some sleep, Tallyho." The advice fell on deaf ears, Tallyho having fallen asleep sometime after giving her last answer. He smiled briefly, pulling the covers of her bed over her before blowing out the candle. The room was still eerily bright from the moon peeking in from the window as he made his way to the door only to hear… Only to hear something outside. He paused, an ear to the door. Was it someone? Yes, it was. It sounded like someone pacing up and down in a tight circle outside the door. What in the world…? Should he wait for them to leave if only to avoid having to talk to someone else?

Nope, he decided as he fought back another yawn. With any luck he'd make it by the person with nothing more than a cursory "hello, goodbye" and be in his room before it. Besides, it was probably just another one of the month warriors or guardians trying to tire themselves out before bed. With that in mind, he moved to the door, opening it slowly, eyes searching for the nighttime pacer if only to better avoid running into them.

The rest of the evening went smoothly for Tallyho. Surprisingly enough she enjoyed the company of Princess Morgan, Kyle’s gesture of diplomacy, and the food was to die for. Her day ended with her and Dorian’s signature game and before she knew it she was asleep with the first of only a few happy nights under her belt.
But there was still that creaking and cracking moan coming from down the hall. One might have thought it to simply be a maid. And the perpetrator as a maid probably would have been a better option for Dorian than a flustered Trent who, upon noticing another’s presence glanced up, his cowlick askew across his forehead and the tip of his thumb pursed in the clench of his teeth.
“You, what are you doing here?” he asked, not incredibly loud. He didn’t leave Dorian room to answer before speaking again.
“Oh, no right. Right! Your one of those…”
He moved closer now, his shoulders squared, body language confident. He cleared his throat with a bend in his brow.
“I suppose I should assume my status as a gentleman and express my congratulations...to your….group.”
It was painfully obvious that he was only making this move to heal his own pride but it was still an unexpected step from someone like Trent. But soon he fell back into his regular manner of condescension.
“Which one are you again?”


There was another event in the plaza that night. Haru, who wasn’t completely nestled to sleep, was stirred by a knock on his door. With tie undone and hair disheveled he moved to open it. And he wasn’t too surprised.
“Hey,” he hummed gruffly to Ryou as he pulled back, making way for Ryou to enter if he so pleased. The expression on his face bland and seeping with exhaustion.

Dorian had always had bad luck. Well, not bad luck necessarily just not good luck. Or at least that's how he explained situations like these that he had more and more frequently found his way into because here was General Cress looking particularly out of sorts, his perfectly coiffed appearance now disheveled, biting at his thumb anxiously. This was, Dorian was well aware, not good luck at all.

But it wasn't bad luck either in that the General didn't move to stab him on the spot or throw him in any more prisons. Instead, he demanded answers without giving room for them before dubbing Dorian "one of those" in the same way one would refer to a particularly offensive piece of garbage. Dorian, for all of his pride, remained unoffended. One does not live in New York, after all without developing a certain tolerance for the awful shit that other people said and, when it came to those too wealthy and proud to actually resort to insults, how they said it.

“I suppose I should assume my status as a gentleman and express my congratulations...to your….group.”

It was more than Dorian had expected, to be honest, as the General used strained civility, even if it was dashed away with a quick "Which one are you again?" Well, if someone who openly disliked them as much as General Cress did could play nice, even if he wasn't particularly good at it, Dorian could as well.

"Thank you, General Cress," He replied, head bobbing in a slight bow with all of the practiced ease of one who had dealt with asinine wealthy people for the majority of his life. He even attempted to make his low monotone sound genuine just for the occasion. "I'm the March Warrior. Dorian-" He cut himself off before he could continue, not knowing if the addition of his last name would break this farce about all of the month warriors hailing from different parts of Aires and also unwilling to tag on the title "of Hales" in case the General decided to start asking questions.

He paused for a moment, at a loss.

"Goodnight." Yes, that seemed safe. He turned to continue down the hallway to his own room, eager to escape what could quickly devolve into some sort of royal incident but pleased that it had been him who ran into General Cress as opposed to, say, Harper. Or Kyle. Anyone else on the team with the exception of Haru or Ryou, really.

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

"Hey," Ryou echoed, slipping through the entrance as soon as Haru allowed him because he did so please. Haru, quite frankly, looked awful, exhausted and dull with none of his usual sparks of brilliance shining through. He waited for the door to close before fretting over the February guardian like a particularly concerned mother hen, plucking his undone tie off his neck and laying it flat on the nearest surface.

"Goddess, Haru…" He breathed, concern worming its way into his tone even as he left out the obligatory "you look like death warmed over" or "you look dead on your feet" or "you look like you need some booze". He didn't say anything else for a moment, guiding a pliant Haru back to his bed to sit down, only just stopping himself from tutting over Haru not having changed yet. Apparently all of his parental instincts had returned full force once he'd been reunited with the Academy Kids and it was rather hard to turn off.

"What's going on, Haru?" He asked after a moment, sitting next to Haru.

Though Dorian’s efforts would have been appreciated, Autumn could not feel the gentle breeze caressing her face. The blonde was out cold and it seemed that there was no chance of her waking up any time soon.

Kit nodded to Ryou and sat next to Autumn. All he could really do at the moment was watch her. He had no medicine to help her and his arm was still healing from its fracture. His labors during the battle only further exacerbated it, meaning he would have to rest it.

“Thank you for the help, Dorian, but I’ve got it from here on out. You rest.” Kit said, feeling the air around him for some sort of indication of spiritual presence. Due to the warmth, he assumed most were gone.

The warrior was carried away to be treated and for the first time in his life Kit was lead through the streets of the Rose Kingdom as a hero.

By the third day, Autumn was still tired. Though many seemed like they recovered, she remained as a constant reminder of just how hard they fought. She moved sluggishly and yawned often, though she tried to cover this as much as possible to save face.
Kit had purchased her a new dress during this time to replace the battle torn rag she had been wearing. Its fall colors emphasized her month’s season, but she hardly looked as if she represented the hard working time of harvest. Her eyes were dim and tired. Even when the academy students were reunited with Ryou and the rest of the group, she found it hard to be cheerful. It was Kit who smiled.

The November Guardian was astonished as he entered the plaza. His hazel eyes scanned the area before him as he took in everything he could. He had been in the plaza before, though his visit was hardly welcome or legal. His departure was even more scandalous, but that was something he didn’t like to talk about.

Kit felt rather guilty, or perhaps a touch nostalgic, as he followed Mildred. The pit in his stomach coupled with his heavy heart made for an incredibly uncomfortable feeling. This didn’t, however, stop him from taking everything in.

He had been hasty back then, not even noticing the flowers. Though, it wasn’t the flowers he was after back then. To think he of all people had the honor of living there! Kit listened to the mousy woman, truly interested in what she had to say. This only made Autumn more miserable as the tour progressed. Her guardian was like the smart kid in class who got excited about quadratic equations. Though his elation was similar to such, he remained composed.

The dining room was the first room that Autumn cared about. Food meant energy. Even more, this was good food. She eyed the puddings from afar, intent on eating as much of them as she could when she returned.

On most occasions, the gentle sounds coming from the room would not be unwelcome. However, they only further exhausted Autumn. Though they would have made for a wonderful tune on any other day, Autumn was left trying to hold back a yawn. The desire, however, quickly disappeared as soon as the princess began to speak. Autumn greatly enjoyed her time with the princess as the tour guide, finding her bubbly nature to be intoxicating. If not for her weary state, Autumn would have gladly spoken with similar joy and energy. However, she was far too tired for that and was one of the first to go directly to bed.

Kit sat by her bed, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Autumn, it’s three days after the battle and you’re still like this.” He said, anxiously twisting the ring on his finger.

“Mhmm…” Autumn grumbled from underneath her blankets.

“Far be it from me to tell you how to manage energy, but this doesn’t look good. These symptoms have never persisted for more than a day or so.”

“I haven’t worked as hard before.”

“I know, but it’s my job to take care of you. It’s only natural that I’ll get concerned. How about I stay over here for tonight so I can watch over you? I’m sure you’ll be fine, but it’ll ease my nerves.”

“Sorry, but I just want to be alone right now. It’s just… I don’t want to be around anyone right now. I’m too tired. Besides, if anything bad happens the spirits can help me out.”

“Well, if you insist…” Kit left the room, a bit baffled. Normally Autumn clung to people when she was in a weakened state. Perhaps she had grown up a little?

The guardian roamed the halls for a while, looking at whatever valuable item caught his eye. If only he had more time, he would have loved to study the history of the halls. To touch just one artifact would be a delight. However, it wasn’t his place. Frankly, anyone who let him get too close to even the dullest of paintings would be a fool. Though his hands were gentle around such objects and his knowledge vast, his history with the building and the treasures that lay inside of it was hardly positive. Hopefully, no one remembered this.

“No, no, I’m not done talking to you.”
Trent was a little louder this time but nothing so impossibly loud that it could disturb the sleep of others. But even then it didn’t seem as though he was paying that much attention to the comfort of others or how they felt or what they thought.
“While you’re here I might as well begin my acts of… diplomacy,” he verbally cringed at the word. “My men and I are going hunting tomorrow but it seems that one of them has developed the gout or something.”
As he rolled his eyes Trent’s lack of knowledge of the other man’s health was apparent as one does not simply suddenly get the gout.
“You seemed strong enough down on the field if I remember you correctly.”
Which he probably didn’t.
“So you’re coming with me. Be ready to leave by noon. Meet outside by the stables.”
After pretty much planning Dorian’s day tomorrow the officer strode past him with a high chin. But he didn’t neglect to leave a hearty smack on the back of the warriors left shoulder.

It seemed that the entire time Ryou swaddled him in worry, plucked his tie off, and sat him on the bed that Haru was deflating, the stress of the day manifesting itself into a heavy sigh, a deep wheeze of an undone balloon. And then the question came. A question that the redhead received more than “what is your name?” the question that may have well been asked by his own mother at his birth instead of the tedious “boy or girl?”

What’s going on Haru?

Did Haru even know what was going on? More than anything he wanted to grunt it off until the morning. But he didn’t have a witness in the meeting room and he had to reflect on the terms and conditions while they were fresh on his mind and who better to confide in than Ryou who, to many but especially Haru, was a glowing treasure of trust and loyalty?

“I went to the court house today to discuss the terms of the protection of the group.”

He slouched over, elbow on knee, knuckles knotted in his hair.

“So the good news is that we get the protection and recognition of the Rose Kingdom and church. But there are a few more troubling things that they pretty much railroaded on me. The meeting was between General Cress, King Rembrandt, and the Harbinger along with twelve handpicked witnesses of their choices. Each of them imposed self-serving conditions that will alter the dynamics of traveling from now on, that’s for sure. Because we are in such close correlation with the R.K’s military we are required to engage in their war related engagements if summoned. Any and all relics acquired are to be donated to the R.K as items of “academic research.” Oh, and another way I fucked up! In exchange for formal protection we are required to travel with a regiment led by General Cress who is supposed to be a mediator of our conduct to the government. And we must act in collaboration with the military meaning that Cress has a hand in all executive decisions. So if we fuck up in any way shape or form them we, as a group, will be tripped of our protection, declared enemies of the state, put on trial and probably executed. And I’m sure that there is a lot more shit I missing but…”

The redhead grunted. This wasn’t what politics were like back in the day. Back then the warriors were given their blessings and left only with an unspoken rule to the public that they should only be helped. Haru, not prepared for the company he was to meet with or the proposals they had or their inflexibility in altering them felt sorely unprepared. And he felt like a total ass because this was what he was supposed to be good at.

Perhaps he rode his high horse from the battle too long… Without noticing it his voice, which had long fallen back mid-thought began to resurface as a gurgling choke of a chuckle. A bit hysterical really. He remembered how he left Tallyho that morning. Stupidly confident in everything he was about to do. Water swelled up at the inner corners of his eyes as he turned scarlet with bitter laughter.

"No, no I'm not done talking to you."

Dorian stopped dead in his tracks, and, after a moment's hesitation, he turned around to face General Cress attempting and failing to contort his features into polite interest. It could still be worse, he mentally hazarded. At most he was about to be verbally harassed by a member of the royal family. At best, the other man just wanted the last word in their semi-conversation before leaving. Regardless, he far preferred that whatever this was was happening to him and not, say, to one of the more volatile members of the Month Warriors Team. Which was basically all of them.

He didn't expect, however, to be asked to join the General on a hunting trip. Well, he wasn't asked, really. It was more of a thinly veiled order that was too well worded and reluctantly given to actually be labeled as an order outright. The point remained that his entire day tomorrow had just been planned out for him and he as well as anyone in charge of him (which he limited to Ryou and Haru because there were far too many Guardians for him to be looking at more than what he considered the most sensible two for guidance) had no say in it. There were, he was sure, far better ways to spend his day than wandering around surrounded by strangers loyal to General Cress armed with weapons, hunting and playing nice.

He was left in somewhat of a daze, barely reacting at the hearty slap on his shoulder as General Cress wandered off without asking for a reply. He paused in the hall for a moment before hurrying off towards his own room, dread for the day ahead of him washing over his body and a vague question of how did someone just get gout hovering on the tip of his tongue.

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

Ryou stayed seated silently next to Haru, hands reluctantly folded in his lap as the February Guardian spoke, but eyes never leaving his crumpled form. It was a wonder, really, how Haru had stayed put together for this long with those thoughts, those orders weighing so heavily on his mind. It wasn't just a setback- this was supposed to be easy after the hoard, after they'd shown off their shiny new month warriors, putting on the facade of them being every bit as heroic as their past counterparts. They were supposed to get royal and religious backing, to get the best support they could in the form of supplies. That's how it had worked in the old days.

But, as he was constantly reminded throughout this journey, this wasn't the old days. Things had changed, usually for the worse. Now the connection between the group and the Crown was more of a shackle, weighing them down with extra responsibilities and attaching them to men who didn't have their best interests at heart. They had to fight in war if so called upon, had to please a man who already seemed bound and determined to despise them. It wasn't Haru's fault, though- that was the world they lived in.

And now he was laughing almost hysterically as tears pricked at his eyes looking downtrodden, beaten down by the world they lived in.

"Haru, come on. It's not your fault," The Monkey Guardian said, honesty dripping from every word. "You're brilliant, okay? I know that things would be a lot worse off if any of the rest of us had gone in your place." Which was true. None of them had the patience or tact for diplomacy as they'd seen in the prison and in countless other little ways.

Hands finally unfolded from his lap, one arm reaching around Haru's shoulders still wracked with pained laughter.

"Things are bad, of course they are, but we could have come out of this a lot worse. If this is what we have to work with, we'll make it work."

There was that subtle we, a gentle reminder that Haru wasn't alone in this, that it wasn't him versus the entire world, even if it did feel like that.

"We're here to help you, Haru," His voice was low now, a deep, soothing sound as he leaned against the man who had taken on the impossible role as their leader, tightening his grip around his shoulder. "I'm here. For anything you need."

And maybe it was the nonexistent distance between them or the hurt look on Haru's face that broke him, but Ryou found himself leaning in impossibly closer, lips hovering over Haru's cheek before he could even recognize his own mistake.

After Tallyho accepted the offered fruit, he gave her a toothy smile and didn't stray from the group again. Unlike Autumn, he did have the energy to keep up with the over-excited princess, and laughed at the funny stories her hyperactive mind actually managed to finish. Fun and Joy were two things they lacked for some time now and Princess Morgan had an ample supply of both. He couldn't resist. If they had a chance to join in her play, he would take it.

The overwhelming happiness in the princess' presence carried over to the elegant meal set before them after the tour, which finally allowed him to relax. For once he had nothing to worry about, except finding his way around the palace after they were left to their own devices. Touring with the princess was more fun than with Mildred, but Mildred's more organized way of doing things was more effective. He wouldn't let that bother him now, and neither would he allow this spread go to waste.

After sparse rations in prison, a table full of food was heavenly. Something he didn't notice right away was that his appetite seemed to change. It wasn't any smaller than when they first arrived in Ve Marie, but he favored fish over any of the other meats and cleared two platters of such by himself. At any of the land-based meats he turned up his nose, except for one particular bird at the table that ate fish. He hadn't lost his sweet tooth though and did take several desserts. His favorite was peeled banya with cream. He still had his taste for the Solacian delicacy, and even though he knew Tallyho liked it, he didn't give it up. She did have plenty of banya products from Dorian though, so she could probably forgive him for it.

His offering the banya was intended to be an ending to their years-long rivalry. It was fun while it lasted, but it couldn't help them with their mission. He realized that in the battle three days ago. He hadn't officially made the statement yet, just like he still hadn't told Skylar how he felt about her. It seemed he had difficulty speaking to decisions relating to girls. Odd considering he grew up outnumbered by girls two to one. Three older sisters and a mom. The only other male in his household was his father. He thought he should know how to navigate female moods and personalities. Still he would tell them both. He had to.

The big questions were when and how. He enjoyed being around groups of people, but some things he preferred not to be everyone's business. Skylar had drifted away from Harper, something he definitely thanked the Goddess for, but she always treated him like a younger brother. Would she really take him seriously? What if she rejected him? They still had to live in the palace together, and work together on the battlefield. There would be nowhere to run away for either of them if it didn't work out. As things were now, they had no problem working together and living in the vicinity, except for his own stress about trying to break out of the friend-zone. Skylar had been crushing on Harper for practically forever. Would she even want to be with someone else? Curses! He couldn't be comfortable any more.

Kyle didn't finish the last plate of food, and waddled away from the table. His stomach churned, but he didn't know if it was from eating too much or his revived anxiety. If he didn't say anything, he'll be like this forever! Either stressing over the next battle, or stressing over Skylar. He couldn't find peace unless this was resolved. If it didn't work out... He swallowed and stopped in the hall. It probably wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt like hell.

The palace was beautiful and every little detail was overwhelming to his frazzled mind. He had shuffled at the back of the tour. His eyes following every little movement. It was bright. Too bright. And it hurt his eyes. But luxurious and oh so very welcoming. La Princesa was a delight in herself, he was pleased that they had such a vibrant hostess. However with every whoop and squeal, Xabier receded deeper and deeper into himself. He stared seemingly into space, brows furrowed and drawn together.

Everyone was obviously much more relaxed. Xabier had also been rested up. As soon as he woke up he had leapt out of his bed and attempted to make a break for it. It took a few of the medics to calm him down and to reassure him that, yes the month warriors and co were all fine, and yes, they were in the Palace right now. When they had finally left him alone he had stood up and stared in the reflection of the window at the bandages that covered his chest, cheek and shoulder. One day, he surmised, he would find no unscarred skin left.
Absent-mindedly he took a few bites of the meat dish in front of him. It all appeared so divine. Platter upon platter of the finest meals of Solace. Dishes that widely varied in colour and texture were scattered in front of them all. He couldn't focus on it. No. His head was trapped somewhere in the clouds. Staring deep into whatever shadow get could find he willed for some movement. Any movement. He couldn't accept that they had gone. His dopplëgangers couldn't have truly left him, right?

He noticed from the corner of his eye, Kyle leaving the table to go somewhere.
There had been enough waiting and thinking it through. Now was the time.
Thirty seconds later he also rose from the table excusing himself and thanking the Princess for graciously welcoming them into her home and for the delicious meal (that he had barely touched).

He stopped, turned around and began pacing the floor. This was ten times harder than telling Abuela that he had knocked over her prized incense burner and burnt a small hole in her floorboards. Harder than reciting the Lord's Prayer in front of his school at age eight, long before he had any doubts about the world. Harder than the time he had willed up the courage to hold some girl's hand on the first date when he was about ten years old.
Okay. Enough. He had to stop being a coward. It was time for him to "save himself" as his dear dopplegänger had so sweetly put.

"Hey Kyle, can we talk for a second?"

Frozen in the hall after Mildred started to lead them up the stairs to their rooms was how Xabier found him. He didn't hear the pacing footsteps or register any other people, because he got lost in his fears and stress over Skylar. He heard the voice, but it took a while to process that the words were directed to him. Kyle looked around in puzzled silence. He didn't see anyone immediately and realized he must have fallen behind again, which meant he lost track of Skylar. He grumbled to himself and rubbed the back of his unusually bare neck. After cutting it twice since the betrayal, his hair wasn't long enough to pull in a ponytail any more. Right now it only tickled his nape. Would Skylar prefer his hair long or short?

The voice calling to him wasn't Skylar though, but Xabier. Gritting his teeth, he remained in silence a few moments more, but it might feel like eternity to the Spanish guy. His silence could be thought as an intentional move to stress out his erstwhile friend, but he really needed to prepare himself for what was to come. He wasn't ready to talk, and got a little antsy to be interrupted from his original mission, shown by his tapping a foot and tightening his grip on his own neck. Still, he realized this issue also needed to be resolved. It wouldn't be fun for either of them, but it was as necessary as pulling a rotten tooth.

Finally the shorter boy turned to face Xabier, still tense but willing to listen. "Not here," he growled between clenched teeth. This was something that shouldn't be everyone's business. It was still early in the evening and they were standing in a hallway. Anyone could still walk by here and hear their conversation. Even if he didn't know the terms Haru arranged for them, he did know that none of the staff, royals, or military should have any reason to doubt their mighty month warriors. Tensions within the group would be their greatest reason to doubt. If the mighty month warriors can't trust each other, how can they be trusted?

Dropping his hand from his neck, Kyle took another exploratory glance around and identified an open door with no one beyond it. He pointed and said, "There, and close the door after you." He ducked into the room, and if Xabier was really serious about talking with him, Kyle expected him to follow.

The seconds ticked by at snail pace. Kyle was almost taunting him with the silence. Xabier almost snapped, he wanted some sort of response. Even a "fuck off" would suffice. Then he could walk away and pretend that the issue was resolved.
Instead he was forced to endure the painful wait in silence. His former friend had tensed up and when he finally answered Xabier was almost relieved.
This was more than he had hoped. He wondered why they had to go somewhere else. It wasn't as if he was confessing his love or something....then again it was very likely that this could be ugly. Okay. Very ugly. His aim was to make friends again but if things turned sour it would be best if no one was around to see.

After a pause he looked around to make sure that no one was around to see and then followed Kyle into the room.
The soft click of the door closing seemed magnified in the silence.
Xabier awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot, he had always found this sort of thing embarrassing. Still, it had to be done. His eyes trained down on the carpet. It was a nice design, intricately detailed and obviously worth more than his house.
Clearing his throat roughly and taking a deep breath, he began.

"How've you been?" He honestly wanted to know if the shorter guy was alright. Xabier would never admit that though. This guy wasn't his friend for whatever reasons and that was that, the Spaniard would have to realise that sooner or later.
Reluctantly he looked up from his feet.
"I suppose I should get straight to it- why exactly are you mad at me?"
He wanted to be friends again, that much was true...besides they all had to be civil to each other for this whole "team" thing, that Kyle seemed to love so much, to work.

Kyle smirked slightly to hear the footsteps follow him and the door click. Maybe Xabier still did have some sense left in his head. By the time the Spaniard looked up from the floor, the smirk was gone. Kyle flopped in an armchair catty-corner to where Xabier was still standing. He had a good reason to worry about the blond, because Kyle seemed bent under his own weight. His answer to the first question was one word, "Uncomfortable." He wasn't going to play games or pretend. He never was very good at hiding how he felt anyway. Better to start this completely honest. Xabier didn't ask for any further explanation, and Kyle didn't know if he should be surprised.

Maybe if they were still in their academy days, he'd rightly be surprised. Secrets weren't such a big part of their life then. Everyone at Academy already knew they were month warriors, and some even knew that they weren't from Aires. Kyle grimaced at that. At least one of those who knew they were aliens betrayed them. He needed to focus on Now. Dwelling in the past can't help with their mission either.

He looked up to the second question. How could he NOT know that? He straightened and clenched his fists, but for now kept his temper in check. "Why did you start avoiding me? Why did you make excuses when I asked if you wanted to do something with me? Why were you babying Harper two weeks ago? That's the LAST thing he needs. Why did you snub the guardians and Skylar? What happened to you on the battlefield the other day? It was like you never held that weapon before in your life. I know you don't like fighting, but we have no choice anymore. Now all our battles are for our own lives. Haru and Ryou and Dae and Nikita can't pick us up anymore when we fall."

Sometime during his speech Kyle stood up and started pacing, his voice raised. In front of the closed door with his back to it, he finally stopped and took a breath. He spoke again much calmer after getting the diatribe of his chest. "The short answer is I'm both angry and sad that I don't know you any more. You have so many damned secrets and sudden personality changes that I don't know if I can trust you as a teammate or..." he paused to lower his voice and drop his head, "...a friend." his head came up again and continued with similar ferocity he started, but not as loud. "Who are you? Are you the bastard clone of Harper you've been acting like lately or the fun-loving guy I thought I knew at the Academy? Do you, yourself, even know who you are right now? I need honest answers, Xabier."

Xabier listened carefully to Kyle's answer. His face blatantly showing exactly what he was feeling as he was feeling it; confusion, anger and most of all hurt.
Bastard clone of Harper
He had recoiled in shock. Of all things that was said, somehow that hurt the most. For one, being like Harper shouldn't be an insult. And for two, he couldn't stand that idea.
Was that what he was? A clone? Of all things. It was as if he was just a shadow. As if he was nothing. The thought hit him like a train to the chest.
Something shifted slightly in the shadow of a lamp without the October Warrior noticing, he was too worked up.
He understood the avoiding part being an issue, but he was conflicted over the whole "snubbing the Guardians and Skylar" thing. From what he could remember he had done nothing of the sort.

"I'm pretty sure I'm still Xabier, though I'm not sure what exactly that means."
Secrets and personality changes. Kyle had hit that right on the head.
He sighed once and gathered up his spirits and answered.
"Okay, I'm sorry about not spending any time with you recently. I can see that that was wrong of me.
I'm not here to talk about Harper so leave him out of this. He hasn't done anything wrong. Like you said, this one is all me." His voice came out louder than he had expected. It was a sudden, defensive burst of noise in an otherwise quiet room. Xabier had no plans of discussing Harper's influence on his behaviour.
He inhaled and exhaled deeply. There was a small pitcher on a coffee table of sorts beside the little chair in the corner. Kyle was standing near the door and Xabier was closest to the pitcher.
Carefully he poured some water into a small glass and carried it over to the other guy, his hand outstretched like a peace offering. Kyle looked like he was about to keel over. Xabier was aware that it wasn't his place to freak out and start trying to help. They weren't friends anymore, right? Still, he couldn't resist.

"Look, I avoided you because I was fucking terrified and again I'm sorry about that. I messed up on the battlefield because my head wasn't in the game and I hadn't practised with my weapon because I was focused on...other stuff. So that was my own stupidity."

His voice lowered and this time he looked straight at Kyle. Not at the floor or at the wall, but at Kyle. Head on. Completely ready for some biting remark.
"Was that honest enough, Kyle?"

During his diatribe, Xabier was an open book. Expressions flitted across his face like water. Kyle noticed, but his own expression hadn't really changed. Why was he so defensive about Harper? He didn't get a chance to ask the question, as the churning in his stomach felt worse. A grimace crossed his face as he leaned against the door, hugging himself.

Xabier offered him some water, and he took it, drinking half at once. Drinking that much didn't really help the churning in his stomach, but it gave him the strength to stand up straighter. Afterward his mood and tone of voice were both calmer. "What were you scared of? Me? This?" He gestured to the space between them. "Why would you be afraid of me? For years we were like this." With his his free hand, he crossed the first two fingers. "I really want to know what happened, but you still want to keep that secret. Thanks for the drink though." He gave a heavy sigh before he returned the glass to the table. "I gave up on Harper, because he refuses to pay attention to anyone but himself. He's too stupidly self-centered to even accept help, let alone give it. I gave up on Harper, but I don't want to give up on you. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be waiting. In the meantime, good night and good luck." He left the glass and turned to the door.

/I want you, Autumn, Kyle, and Tallyho to get on a platform and come up for the second wave. Tell the others to hold ground.\
/Yes, sir.\

"Ouff..." Lillian muttered as she was stumbled into by Haru, clenching the wall she leaned on tightly to keep her balance. Her look of absolute calm faded with a sharp glance at the other Guardian in obvious confusion and concern, until she caught the glint of his eyes regaining a sense of self. Humm. She remembered that look and the feeling that came with it well, and not just on anyone (all though, like Haru, they weren't insignificant by any means) - but specifically, herself. That had been a long time that talking verbally was scarce in asking others assistance or announcing plans or anything really. It was good to see Falke seemed to have worked his rather small achieved chunk of September's gifts enough in order to use it in the midst of battle successfully, even though that hit on his head early that she'd caught the end of with an inward sympathetic wince hadn't helped him much she suspected. “Alright let’s lower a platform.” Lillian nodded, moving to aid Haru and other guardians near the cranks to help haul up the warriors that were called up for the second wave.

Falke back-pedaled from his latest kill, blowing a shaky, hot breath, whirling his weapon into a defensive hold, as he collected his bearings to the direction of the platform and the others' scattered mental activity. He took off shortly in a painful, gimping, but ground-covering lope toward the wall, even as he called on his mental powers with a struggle to be heard over the ringing in his head.

/Tallyho, Autumn, Kyle: Get to the platform and come up for the second wave.\
/Everyone else hold ground!\

"FALKE! TALLYHO! AUTUMN! KYLE!"

Falke arrived the last at the platform, struggling against the soapy muck sticking to his boots and water weighing down armor and clothes alike, hauling himself unto it with a grunt of pain and wistful snarl of the sheer effort on his lips. The damped wood of the platform creaked and groaned as it began steadily moving upward, and it wasn't long until they had reached the top of the wall. Uneasily, he swung himself over the lip, with careful emphasis as he landed of not putting any more weight than necessary on his bad left leg with its' tattered and splintered brace and screaming muscles and achingly sore bones. Tilting his head to listen with a painful wince of focusing over his own weariness and exhaustion and others' similar thoughts and emotions weighing heavy on his mind on Haru as he pointed and divided out orders.

“Do exactly what you were doing down there but without the fighting part. Focus more.”

Falke nodded warily in ascent, stalking back to lean against the wall, hands gripping tight the stony lip. He looked for all the world to be resting from the battle, but the reality as he scowled down from above on the battle like a particularly cranky gargoyle, sightless eyes looking bemused as they floated here or there, focusing for a moment before moving on, he was bringing his passive mental powers (what little he had) up to play more, without the added distraction of being killed. Quelching the doubts of his power on the back burner, and focused.

It was much easier than he had imagined, a floating, ethereal short of feeling, of moving around in the minds of those fighting, those trying to eat them, and relaying the viable or worth wild information back to Haru. He'd always had a sharper will and resulting knack for the physical training he supposed, especially with how comfortable he'd become with using his weapon and love of fighting despite his disability. He'd worked hard to be able not to just rely on these supposed mental powers eventually becoming more useful than knowing the latest gossip before everyone else or knowing anyone's else secrets (sometimes before they themselves knew they had one, or more), and just kicking in to save him one day. But now with a couple steadying breaths, not busy worrying about being eaten, and ignoring the slight but growing pressure beating on the instead of temples; his abilities were proving to be a little more useful.

On, and on, and on the battle went, until...
Falke paled, blinking in shocked disbelief as he intently glanced with as much focus as he could toward the dark hills in the distance. He didn't have any words to really describe it for Haru, because all he were the screams of 'little' cyclopean trampled underfoot - it was big and it was coming. Nor did he really need to speak as a growing sense of panic and dread was emitted from those of the city, as the top of this monstrosity head rose above the hills in the distance, coming closer, and visually becoming a larger threat. No one would appreciate a running commentary of what they could see for themselves.

“Call them all back!"
/Fall back! Get to the platform now!\

When the others finally returned to the top of the wall, the behemoth moved closer, crushing its' shrieking brethren beneath its' massive appendages with each heavy, lingering step. He could hear as much as feel Tallyho's thick, snob-covered sobs of anguish of pulling herself and her energy together, but did not dare give her anything more than the presence of mind, in order not to distract her; Kyle's wavering confidence and determination as exhaustion pulled hard at his abilities for his attention, but like Tallyho he did not offer any what he deemed distracting support (not that the April warrior would even bother to listen for some absurd reason); and Haru's howling commands.

In a magnificent finale of a climactic battle: Water roared. Nearly invisible electricity crackled. The bang of the cannon, and wiz of the cannon ball careening through the air, striking its target dead in the center with a thundering thud. Then the shattering of the beast, shards sleeting down in an oddly beautiful crystalline melody. It was over, they had all managed to survive.

A select few of the Month Warrior group was left standing, while others crumpled into unconsciousness via sheer exhaustion of battle fatigue or overwhelming use of their powers sapping them of their strength, and/or more pressing concern like an open, bleeding red, red human blood, wounds causing their falls. Falke was one of those that had remained barely staying upright, exhausted from the battle and strenuous use of his abilities, but had not moved to help like some who were still able could and did. Frankly he did not think he would have been able to if he tried...

His eyes were impossibly wide, glinting in confused, fearful, and silent agony, air in their depths. With the start of the sudden, wild roar of hope and disbelief from the entirety of Ve Marie, followed continuously by joyous cheers and shrieks of triumph, at the battles' conclusion; came the influx of similar to his own emotions and thoughts without a purpose of being use for some rhyme or reason, bashed into his open mind, hard. He supposed he'd opened himself to much, and overextend his abilities. It was hard enough to remember himself as Falke, instead of so-in-so, crammed and pressuring in terrific migraine that would make anyone's sanity run for the hills; but it was bad enough to mask the soreness of his bad leg, and the ringing blow on his head that would no doubt bruise in time he suspected.

In short order, things began moving as medics hurried onto the scene to collect the unconscious and too wounded to walk and prodded at those still standing so see if they too wouldn't suddenly collapse on the walk to a place of rest. Falke as battered as he was physically and felt mentally, waved off the ministrations of a medic, not wanting any contact to inspire anymore of the painful hiccup he was already experiencing due to his powers. He gimped an uneasy, weary gait, between the guards that gave him personal space quite unlike there first time. Head down, and teeth gritted in a snarl hidden under pursed lips, as they made their way through the crowd, trying to collect his scattered mind and ignore the celebration of being a 'hero' of the city folks around them.

Arriving at the safe house, Falke had managed to calm himself down enough to have enough presence of mind necessary for a bath to clean him of the blood, sweat, and grime from the battle, and dress himself in fresh, clean clothes. Before passing out in an uneasy slumber, too queasy to attempt to eat anything as of yet...

---

To say things were getting better for every warrior over the three days of rest would have been an understatement. Certainly the better treatment, living conditions, food, and the ability to a much needed bath; definitely helped, no doubts about it. But Falke found himself struggling to remain silent as he hid what felt at times a fading of his sanity.

What could only be truly described as the result of an overextending on his grasp of his mental powers during the battle of the Flock. It was having too many others' reckless thoughts and emotions running rampant, and doubling his own mindset's similar thoughts and emotions with each recurring person. Twelve had already felt like too much rattling around in one head, but then considering the addition of the few Guardians their group contained thus far and the various Cyclopean on top of that, AND then... The crowd, nigh the whole city of Ve Marie in all reality, had roared in exhilaration and disbelief that the battle had been won by beating the monstrosity and the month warriors were officially back. Nor, he supposed, did his battered head with a bruised temple ending with a sweep into a black eye, and likely concussion to match, did not help matters much either.

It was like having PTSD in a matter of speaking plainly. Not that his thoughts and emotions would have normally bothered him so drastically to feel like he was losing himself and his mind. All though he wouldn't have put himself past the stray nightmare or two after the fact, if thinking honestly about what they had all gone through. But the sheer struggle of having so many similar post traumatic thoughts and emotions of everyone from the battle still lingering fresh on his mind, having not petered off like they hopefully would have by now, that felt horrible to have to experience over, and over, and over again. He didn't know what to do to fix himself, except silently suffer through it, riding it out like a bad migraine, and hope it would get better over time. Oh, bloody hell, really, what other disorder would be able to match quite as well to magic power issues from another world suck sometimes on the disorder list other than that.

There was an odd flutter of his shoulders, a repressed jerking spasm of anxiety, and twittering, clasping repeatedly into a fist, fingertips, that wasn't uncommon now in the three days after the battle. It was the only way his roughly PTSD condition came out was by quivering muscles, being that he had had learned quickly to bite his tongue over the shuttering, pitiful moans that had occurred with them at first (right after one of the first haunting nightmares, very difficult to ignore or forget for hours afterword). However, he mostly put it off that he'd stepped off wrong on or hit his bad leg again, or a breeze had just caught him right for some jitters, only if anyone brought it up after noticing it and asked him about it. A white lie or two seemed a higher alternative than saying he felt he was losing himself, during the effort to regain his own mind again. Otherwise, Falke kept to himself, quiet, and avoiding any additional attention.

On the day of relocation, Haru had disappeared out the door with political purpose on his mind, and the Academy three (well, the three Elites that were still with them) and Karma returned shortly after there departure - Falke found himself reluctantly trying to force himself out of the room where he'd hid himself and his shaking issue for most of the day, under the guise of not feeling up to standing on his feet more than need-be at a given time, to give them a warm nod of a greeting from afar and a thankful murmur in return for the praises for what they had done the older two gave. It wasn't long before Haru returned, rounded everyone up for another escorted walk until they arrived at a grand gate.

Mildred certainly made an verbal impression at the very least. She played a smart and well put together tour guide extremely well as she discussed the history of the palace grounds with an astute and studied air. But the talk of unnecessarily extravagant but grand enough for its' purpose to awe and humble of the architecture, especially the two sets of bloody staircases, was wearing thin on him. Or, a better use and precision of language would instead discuss how he knew a shuddering episode would come soon and despite the finer materials used to construct a new splint around his leg to aid his walking (it really got sore after a while, truthfully).

The music was the first thing to distract Falke from Mildred's and his own internal monologue. The sweet sounds of violin stings humming and the harpsichord twinkling, dancing together with a fragile but pretty voice intertwining with the musical instruments in a high but easy on the ears tune. As they appeared at the edge of the room near the song's end, the singer was introduced as Princess Morgan. Her lady-like impression and carefully articulated words fell flat quickly, as she exuberantly whooped and darted into a display of the story of the battle like an comic character.

Then she begged to take them on the tour, and while it wasn't nearly as educational as Mildred's dutiful recounting, he thought it was just as tiring if not more so by her wandering thoughts, and varied stories. Falke found himself slowly but surely gimping further behind than the main group, the lagging tail of the comet as it were. Wordlessly, he would catch up until as they started moving on again to the next distracted lead would take them.

Eventually the tour bled into dinner, with the Princess refusing to leave and offering cheerful continued conversation with anyone who would continue. Falke obliged not to join, and remained silent - as he carefully cut up his meal into bite sized pieces, and enjoying the ability to be able to sit down for a time without being required to move any further. Having finished his meal, he waited for their next destination after everyone else finished their own plates, hands clenching and fingers shaking (thankfully his shoulders didn't feel like joining them, this time) as they were hidden under the table.

The evening ended as they were dropped off at the stair room, with instructions on how to find to find their rooms, rooms for individuals. After a painful, but steady climb, Falke retreated to his own room automatically. The promise of soft beds, clean sheets, getting off his feet, and out of the presence of 'people'; were expressly inciting for him, especially given that any amount of sleep would be nice - knowing full well a handful of nightmares was always a possibility...

The whole while Ryou had been comforting Haru, spoon-feeding him words of encouragement and reassurance, planting a firm arm around his shoulder with confidence, Haru continued to choke with laughter and sorrow. And then the warm breath upon his cheek, Ryou’s face so close to his that he was utterly frightened. And in that second he prayed many times that some unfortunate indoor wind would not come and tip him any closer and his brows furrowed, and his nostrils flared and he began to peel himself from under the brace of the March guardian’s arm. His gray eyes peering judgmentally into Ryou’s warmer ones, irises shaking within the whites of his eyes as he appraised his companion’s face in sharp glances.

“We aren’t doing this again...”

His voice cold and bloodless as a bludgeoned, frostbitten corpse. And Ryou should have been sure—hell even Haru was sure—that his voice had never achieved such a frosty tone. And the worst part for Haru was that he didn’t mean it. And he realized this and his gaze softened, nostrils relaxed to their natural diameter. Something sunk to the pit of his stomach and his shoulders slumped so low that Ryou’s arm, which was nearly off of his shoulder from Haru’s prior attempt to break away by force, limply tumbled off the cliff of his back with little effort. He looked away with glazed eyes and pale lips.

“I’m sorry,” A moment of silence, a cleared throat, “goodnight.”



The next day Mildred paced in front of the warriors feverishly. The old woman got a high out of planning things, and the only opportunity she had to plan was when there were events regarding Princess Morgan. Otherwise she was deprived of opportunities to commit to her passion. The royal family was so much smaller these days. Morgan’s older brother, the esteemed Prince was out on a campaign, Trent was too old to manage, she couldn’t possibly control the Harbinger and Morgan was the only one nice enough to let her live her life’s passion. But now that the month warriors lived on the premises…well the old woman was giddy.

“Good morning everyone,” she hummed. “I’m sure you remember me—Mrs. Mildred. Anyway let’s get on with our plans for the next few days.”
She found a good stopping point in front of the group.
“As month warriors you have a lot of responsibility to the public. You will be treated as royalty. Well dressed, well fed, but you do have a certain duty to the people. Which means that there are a few public appearances to make. As for your week—today is Thursday in case you didn’t know— tomorrow evening you will be celebrated in a large parade. Saturday you will attend a mass at the grand Cathedral ministered by none only than the Grand Harbinger himself, followed by a small party with some of Aires’ most important figures. And on Sunday you will attend the ceremony that will officially dub you month warriors. I have tailors here today to take your measurements and find you attire for all of your events and on Friday we will make time between you lot and the tailors to make sure that you fill out you’re your custom outfits for the official ceremony nicely…”

Tallyho listened with a bland expression. This just didn’t feel right to her. She could definitely tolerate getting as much food as she could eat but she wasn’t too sure about the tailors and mingling with high society. Not even the mass. She probably wouldn’t think twice about the Great Book and the Goddess if she weren’t a month warrior herself.

“Any questions? Yes, no?” Mildred prodded.

The moment Haru turned to him, began to shrug off the once comforting embrace, Ryou knew that he'd made a mistake. It had taken a small shift, a tilted head to break the fragile peace surrounding them. He shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have sought more now of all times, but all men like Ryou were fools and did things no sensible man would. Still, he let his arm fall with each shrug of Haru's shoulders, slipping further and further still with each icy word. His face remained impossibly serene for as long as Haru could bear to look at him, the hurt, the disappointment only echoed in the depths of his eyes.

It was more than just a simple rebuff, the cat guardian's words icing over in a way that had never been directed at Ryou before. Not even long ago before Haru was the fearless leader and Ryou his loyal, right-hand man, in the days where the arguments between all of the Guardians were more like the current month warriors than anything else. It hurt, impossibly so, and he couldn't help but read into those five simple words until they became a paragraph, a terrifying tirade that left him without a doubt and without hope. It had been the dreams of a foolish man, after all.

As Haru turned away looking so, so tired and so, so pale, he couldn't even muster the courage to put a single hand on his shoulder. Words were stuck in his throat and now without those piercing eyes on him, he felt his features crumble piece by piece. He stood then, a jerky, sudden motion and began a retreat towards the door, hand grasping desperately for the doorknob before he stopped himself. He couldn't do this to Haru, not now, not ever.

"It's fine," His words her carefully tinged with what he deemed the appropriate amount of cheer. "Try to- try to get some sleep, okay?" With that he was gone, door shutting swiftly but softly behind him.

It wasn't fair to say that Ryou ran from the room, his pace too slow, too heavy to be more than a fast walk. His room wasn't far down the hall but as he approached, his feet began to weight heavy on his body and he slowed to a standstill before sinking down on the hall's floor. He couldn't go into his room, not with Karma sleeping so sweetly. He wouldn't dare risk waking her, showing her trusting, glittering eyes the face of a fool. He didn't cry, didn't hyperventilate, just sat impossibly still on the cold, cold floor.

"Evening. Another voice, more of a soft murmur, rippled through the silent hallway. Ryou looked up slowly with tired eyes to see Dae leaning casually, too casually, against his own door two doors down and across the hall. In his hands was unmistakably one of Karma's dresses, a pretty yellow number with all kinds of delicate detail, ripped in an incident Ryou didn't bother asking about, and being sewn with movements that seemed far too delicate for someone who specialized in dealing death.

"Evening," Ryou croaked before clearing his throat, lips tugging upwards in a brief suggestion of a smile before it flickered out of existence leaving only that haggard, broken expression in its wake. "What are you doing out here?"

"Liam and Mori are sleeping and I didn't like it in the room," Dae said, green eyes never glancing up from his needlework. If he'd noticed his former teacher's face, he wisely didn't mention it. "The hallway's not much better, but I feel less-"

"Less trapped," Ryou agreed, this time a small smile successfully worming its way onto his face. Memories, warm memories of some years ago fought valiantly against darker thoughts. "You're doing well. At least you're not threatening to run away and live in the forest this time."

Dae snorted in reply, but his own lips turned into his typical crooked grin. "I was a child, Ryou."

"And a huge pain in my ass."

The silence, temporarily warmed by their conversation, fell into that lingering icy chill as neither moved except for the delicate strokes of the needle tugging thread through fabric.

"You're hurting yourself, Ryou. Every time you go to him... You shouldn't- I don't like seeing you like this. It's not fair to you. He's not- I don't doubt that he cares for you, but it's not the same."

Ryou didn't reply, pulling himself to his feet although his eyes stayed pointed towards the floor, tracing lines and patterns in the wood.

"Why do you go to him? Why do you do this to yourself?" Dae's voice cracked this time in a way that Ryou knew too well, had heard it in his own voice when he'd seen Karma cry at the Academy, when he'd taken care of a mentally broken Dorian all those years ago, just moments ago in Haru's room…

"Because he saved me," Ryou's voice was dull, lackluster as if the words themselves knew how pathetic they were. "And I-" He stopped, too used to keeping the words silent for Haru's sake and his own.

The silence reigned again until Dae let out a little hiss, a single red dot of blood blossoming on his index finger from an errant move, the only visible sign of how perturbed he was. Before he could move to wipe it away, Ryou was across the hall, taking the knight's hand in his firm but gentle grasp, wiping away the bead of blood with a swipe of his thumb.

"Sometimes we can't help who we care about," Ryou said, bringing the tip of the injured finger to his lips in a delicate kiss. "But I won't regret that I do. It can hurt, it can hurt more than anything else, but the rewards of caring about, of loving many people… They're magnificent."

He turned then, letting Dae's hand out of his grasp until Dae was squeezing it in return and pulling him into a tight embrace. He stilled for a moment before wrapping his arms around the young knight in return, and they stood there like that for a moment, maybe two, silently clinging to each other with a wild sort of desperation.

"I love you, Ryou. We all do," Dae finally mumbled and they slowly separated. Ryou leaned up- when had Dae, his little Dae who had arrived with just a letter from a tribal elder and a strange, blonde-haired young man, who had tried to jump out countless windows, who had cried the first time the origins of beef had been revealed("But I like cows, Ryou!"), become an adult, a strong, tall, and reliable knight- and placed a tiny peck on a scarred cheek.

"Magnificent," He breathed and he still hurt, his stomach still twisted in painful knots, and his mind and emotions continued to wage war with his heart, but now he could at least face Karma with the face of the father she needed, the father she deserved.

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

For whatever reason, it had never occurred to Dorian that being one of the famed Month Warriors of Airian lore would involve more than just running around killing Cyclopeans. Now, as Mildred addressed them like a general facing barely acceptable new recruits, he felt less like a Month Warrior and more like he was about to take part in the Royal Wedding. This was more pomp and circumstance than he expected, and that would be fine if it weren't for the fact that being seen in public and the current generation of Month Warriors didn't seem to mix all that well.

Regardless, Dorian had far more on his mind than fittings and going to church with the Airian Pope. He glanced over towards Haru, who looked far less rested than he had even in prison, and Ryou, who appeared to have put a great deal of space between himself and Haru. Mildred's speech had wound down to whatever questions the others might have left, so he took the opportunity to approach their de facto leader.

"Haru…" He paused for a moment, unsure if he was making a big deal out of nothing. "General Cress- I saw him last night. He told me I'm going hunting with him this afternoon. I thought you ought to know."

He knew he'd have to do it, regardless of how anyone reacted, but the strict order from Haru that followed and the relief that flooded Ryou's features cemented the idea in his mind. This wasn't his choice- this was for the good of the team.