Aires

Kyle flinched and pulled back from Skylar's angry words. She didn't actually hit him, but the pain was just as great as a slap to the face. He could handle anyone else in that room being pissed at him, even Tallyho who was terrifying and cold in her long-simmering anger, but Skylar's anger physically hurt. His chest hurt and his stupid fancy clothes were too tight again. The silver cape over his shoulders was too heavy; the collar of his white shirt and cravat tie choked him; his long sleeves pinched his wrists; the blue-striped vest squeezed his middle. It was too much. "I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I couldn't stand it happening again. I..."

Then he stopped. Even if he said that thing he's been holding in his heart for years, she wouldn't believe, not after the scene he made. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her hand again... She probably wouldn't let him. He reached out unconsciously, but pulled back and curled up in on one of the seats in the room holding his head and muttering, "I'm so stupid!" No, he didn't kick and scream. He just stayed there until... "HARPER!"

That blond head shot up. What the hell was that bastard up to now? Didn't he do enough already? His first reaction was anger, despite feeling that painful sting or maybe the pain only amplified that anger. He didn't know which. Dorian was wrestling a blubbering and screaming Harper and blood! He was covered in blood again. The smaller blond got up, shaking at the sight of the blood. A knife skittered next to his feet. There was blood on the knife too. "What the hell?!"

Then Mildred came in, and the wrestling match ended with Harper slumped over and Dorian clinging to him, pinning the older warrior's arms at his sides. What? All that blood and she was concerned about the stupid party and clothes? Was she serious? How could she be serious?

Damn! She really was serious. As soon as both Harper and Dorian were cleaned up, bandaged, and changed into new clothes, the whole lot of them marched out and went through the motions. He couldn't even be happy to see Morgan waving excitedly and Nikita out there. Haru wasn't in the crowd. Where did he go?

That's where he was. After the stupid ceremony Kyle barely even paid attention to, Haru locked them all in a room, fortunately the room that didn't have blood on the floor. Okay, he thought he could deal with other people's anger, but Haru's fierce glare and tone of voice had him shaking again. He pulled at his collar and swallowed. "What happened? What the fuck happened?" Kyle couldn't speak. Harper made a weak attempt to shake off any further confrontation, but it was a total lie. Blood on the floor was never nothing! Idiot! Skylar snapped at him again and Kyle winced, another slap on the face. To be fair, she snapped at Tallyho too, but Kyle was right next to her. He felt it more. Dorian finally spoke, going through the bare bones of the disastrous scene. Kyle would have to thank him for that later. Dorian didn't make any judgment calls or get into all the messy details, but he said just enough.

The younger blond, actually gave a sigh of relief that Haru shooed everyone else out. Skylar and Dorian didn't have to suffer any further for his stupidity. Xabier, Autumn, and Falke didn't have to deal with it at all. They were never involved to begin with, but Kyle did wrinkle his nose at Xabier falling all over Harper. He would talk to him later, if he survived whatever wrath Haru waited to pour out on him. He held his breath as he waited for the blows to fall.

After everyone left, Haru seemed so tired. Kyle pulled his collar again and looked at the ground. He knew Haru's exhaustion was his fault. He started the dumb fight. No matter how much he wanted to pin it on Harper, he knew the truth. He had to face the consequences. "I..." he started but stopped. Haru flopped in a chair and told the three of them to sit down. No way was he going to argue. He didn't really think much about where he would sit, and he didn't have more appetite for the food. Kyle just flopped in the nearest chair without another word. What was Haru going to do or say?

The answer to that question was actually something of a surprise. Haru didn't yell or make threats or in any way act like he was going to explode, which was the thing Kyle was most afraid of. The last time they did something stupid, the cat-guardian did explode. Kyle squirmed. That last time was also when they were locked up. He turned his head around the room, not to ignore Haru, but to confirm that he really was safe.

Every single word said hit home in one way or another. Sometimes the words hurt, sometimes he got angry. I totally do NOT have daddy issues, thank you very much! The man he called father, he knew loved him. He saved his life. He accepted him into his own fully-formed family. He protected him, but never lied to him. He always knew what to do when Kyle got scared.... But Kyle didn't really belong there. His father didn't look anything like him. He never felt like he was good enough, no matter how many times his father told him otherwise. And there was always a certain fear that his new daddy would dump him just like his old daddy, his real daddy. Kyle squirmed in his seat. Maybe he did have some issues related to dads. Damn Haru!

The fights he got into and his lousy grades in school. Those were perfectly dead on, and probably played into his absolute biggest fear. Dammit! Haru did know all about him, yet why didn't that scare him? Why didn't it make him angry that someone was spying on him his entire life?

Not just him either. Haru looked into every single one of them. How? Kyle didn't get to ask, because as soon as Daddy Haru was finished with one of them, he directly turned to the very next person. That's always been the way the cat-guardian did things. Even though, he knew Haru was always like that he still felt uncomfortable listening to these others messed up lives and problems, and having his own put out there for them to hear.

It was true that he never tried getting to know Tallyho and Harper. He didn't know about Tallyho's family and her living alone, not knowing if she'll get enough to eat. He swallowed and squirmed some more. Kyle never had to worry about that and really the only time he even thought of people who didn't have enough to eat were during holiday food drives. But those people who sang during the parade, weren't they her family? They look just like her. More questions.

She was different than him, but she was also alike. Haru says she trusts her conscience, and often hesitates to act because of it. Kyle also trusts his conscience, but he often acts too quickly to listen to it. He never liked Harper, but he still put in the effort to try to help him. He went through that portal to Aires, because the all or nothing proposition pricked his conscience. He was terrified, like Haru also pointed out, but he couldn't let someone else or a whole lot of someones die because he was a chicken. That hero complex. He fights to protect people he cares about, to keep other people from getting hurt, but at the same time, he usually ends up hurting them. Every single time that happens, his conscience rages against him. He tried running away from that, but he just can’t. All three of them run away from something, but for some it’s more obvious than others. He groaned and stared at the floor.

The youngest person in the room squirmed again as the attention turned to Harper. There was less of ‘this is what’s wrong with you and you need to fix it’, but more of a recent case by case analysis of what Harper’s doing and identifying how other people outside of Harper-world react and why, specifically of course Kyle and Tallyho, since they were the primary agents right now.
Everything about that was also spot on, except he really didn’t think his situation with Harper could be as easily resolved as Haru assumed. There was stuff that happened before the situations with Skylar and Xabier that he can’t forgive easily, but he supposed dealing with the more recent and major situations could be a start. Of course it would only work if Harper himself also put in the effort.

Stupid Kyle also realized that stupid Harper deserved an apology. He never thought that daddy hates me story was actually true because of all the whiny nobody likes me garbage he threw at them in the past. The younger blond turned to Tallyho again. She might actually have a reason to say nobody likes her. Every time Harper went into his rages, she was always pushed aside, like both stupid boys pushed Skylar aside in that other room not so long ago. Kyle pulled at his collar. He needed to properly deal with all the crap he spewed today.

The entire interview, or more like a lecture, because Haru didn’t really ask a lot of questions -he told it like it is and expected them to listen- was uncomfortable for all three of them most likely. It was painful but necessary, just like his other recent confrontation with Xabier. Now though, Kyle had the missing piece, the why. He turned to Harper blubbering again in his chair and then over to the table behind all of them that hadn’t been cleared yet. Good , all the utensils were there. This room wouldn’t have blood on the floor too. Kyle will also deal with both Xabier and Skylar, if the May month warrior would talk to him again. He squirmed and pulled his collar again.

From the midst of his blubbering, Harper called back to Haru. “Are we done?” Kyle mentally groaned. It didn’t sound like Harper got anything out of the ordeal. This mess wasn’t over yet. He sighed but was more polite in his own response to everything. “Thank you, Haru.”

Harper may not have gotten anything from it, but Kyle did. He never thought of anything the cat-guardian pushed forward, but now he wondered about what other problems the rest of the group had to deal with. Was it too late to start over? They didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon.

Lillian held a callous disregard for other people's feeling at face value. What was beneath the skin wasn't a concern in the greater scheme of the world, or their duties quite often. However, she was not ignorant to Nikita's reluctance to change the subject as quickly as she had, nor the old memories lurking in the depths of the other guardian's eyes, and silently took note of it for reference later on. It would do well to have such information in order to arrange a heart to heart if the need ever arouse.

Eventually Nikita excepted her subject change and compliments on her fair green dress, passing off her finished drink and answer shrugging her last question, "It's nice, but, I think I would enjoy it more in a previous life." "Would not we all?" Lillian twittered, a higher, amused lit echoing in her tone. Amusement? Yes, an actual jest twittering from her lips! While it wasn't necessarily the whole truth for her in any of the ages she had lived in (except the second, but that was only if September had made it clear that no one would treat her any differently or face his wrath); she could joke on it, all the same.

"Ahh," Lillian paused, musing. As the amusement faded quickly, into a silent flash of determination in a solid line upon her lips and calm yet clever eyes that had spotted a suitable shift in the play of the crowd around them. She could make her escape as it were, easily enough without attracting unwanted attention, to the door and head to her own room for the night. "I've grown weary of the night, m'dear. I apologize Nikita, if you'll excuse me." She spoke gently, patting the other guardian's arm in farewell, before disappearing into the crowd, following her assumed exit path.

...

Falke took the glasses of weak wine from Kyle and passed them to a passing server, as the younger blonde caved and disappeared into the crowd to dance with Skylar. Free from member's of the groups' attention for a time, he spent the time idly surveying the crowd. Making necessary small talk with passing party goers that focused on him immediately knowing who he was as they came and went, and humored Xabier in his talks of odd family traditions (and yes they were odd, but they were very Spanish). It wasn't long before the night was over, and he was able to escape to the quiet and peace of an empty, lonely room.

---

The next day began early. Pins and needles. Tailors poking and pinning extravagant outfits unto the warriors as they were all prepared for their big ceremony. As always, during the past few days, Mildred took personal charge of the event - from the outfits, to decorations and flower arrangements, how they would move and act - she should have been the Queen or Lady in waiting with the amount of respect she owned and duties that were given to her to complete flawlessly.

Falke was dressed in possibly the darkest colors Mildred had put on him to date (especially after the announcement that he was going to be a darling of the city, dressed in whites and silvers and golds), or well, technically really only the bottom half was darker. With knee-high, dark leather boots, without the brace for the first time in ages (because really, she had insisted, it did not make the fashion statement Mildred wanted), and black, needlessly tight, pants with gold and silver stripes down the leg seam; it left the memory of light, golden browns and whites behind. As for the top, it still fit the bill of the original plan, with the doublet being a tint of a brownish gold matching the leg stripes - textured with a speckling of white, reminiscent of a nightly starscape. A two inch silver sash, matching the other leg stripes, wrapped around his left shoulder and right hip; was pinned near the middle of his chest with a large, silver brooch, featuring an extravagant star sapphire in its' center, the only jewel on his person denoting who he was (save the real one, hidden underneath white silk gloves).

He had an apple in hand, tossing it into the air every so often (not quite hungry enough to eat it, and there was really too much food for simply snacks at the table anyway) checking his reflexes idly as they waited. A comfortable perch on the edge of a chair. And a free hand every so often tugging at the golden seams of the high collar presently choking him to slowly but steadily loosen it in the interests of breathing. No one really to talk to, but past the time until the ceremony, or so he thought...

Autumn had approached with a soft hello, and an oddly dim mental presence - that caused a slight narrowing of his eyes, as he glanced away from his game with his apple to regard her evenly. It was curious at once that she'd come to him to talk with, but the dim mental presence was interesting as well. In close proximity, even without contact, people like Autumn and her personality type, he could hear them right away and ignore as necessary. "Hello," Falke replied softly, with a brow raised. He felt it again, the mental presence dim but insistently attempting to be heard. Ahh, she was trying to talk with him, privately. Warily, he focused his abilities in order to listen.

/I'm so sorry to bother you...\

Falke blinked in surprise at the static resistance he felt over everything she was saying. They hadn't communicated in this manner before, other than battle, but he could usually hear loud and clear if he needed to. He figured he just needed to delve deeper into her mind in order to hear her better, but could not shake the awful and uncomfortable situation raising the hairs up on the back of his neck as he did.

/It’s just that I really don’t want to be forced into an uncomfortable situation with Xabier. I know it’s a bit of a burden, but please. I had to dance with Xabier last night and I do not want that to happen again. Save me?\

Now it was his turn to reply, and Falke furrowed his brow further, before idly responding. /Save you? We're already stuck in an uncomfortably confining room already for the next 30 minutes. How would I-...? \ Focused as he was on their conversation, he hadn't quite noticed Xabier coming up until it was entirely too late to really do anything about it. His mental aura spoke strongly for his reasons to come over, trying to forcibly patch the holes in the leaking boat of his relations with everyone else that had fallen relatively flat since him and Harper had been, well, been together more or less. He didn't really dislike anyone to an extent, but he was not going to be faking emotions for anyone either.

/Wow I am so sorry Falke. I hoped I could avoid stuff. I didn't mean to get you caught in it.\
/Too late...\
"Ah hey guys, last night was quite fun, huh?"
"Delightful."

"Fei..." He responded with a shrug. It wasn't fun, nor really delightful. Eye opening per say, certainly. But 'eh' for him in all reality, for one that clearly did not like the attention nor the social scene that everyone knew who the little blind boy that was the most likely to kick the bucket by the end (or before) of this journey was from the start.

The rest of the time before the ceremony was spent making idle small talk between both Xabier and Autumn about the night before, and desperately ignoring what was happening in the other room as best as he was able too. What came in his head, stayed in his head as far as he was concerned. And he happened to agree with Autumn's assumption that it would be more of a blessing than a curse to keep their room vaguely sane comparably. If she wasn't going to tell him, then he sure as hell wasn't going to either.

...

(WIP CEREMONY)

...

“What happened?”

Falke flinched, and his cheek-line visibly paled. It should not have been a surprise, if technically a rare occurrence of his to let such an obviously guilty conscience display so readily across his facial features, considering he was emotional comprised; just being in the general vicinity of the volatile thoughts and emotions of the group it was a surprise he wasn't breaking down and shaking in panic, and/or pain. Nor was it a surprise to have Haru waiting to meet the group as they walked off from the ceremony stage, and quickly directed them into the room July-December (the more sane half of the group one could say, at the current time anyhow) had resided in for the 45 minutes with little more than forced, awkward conversation, forcing himself to ignore as best as he was able too with what was happening in the other room, and no bloodshed.

“What the fuck happened, I said?!”

Haru was now blocking the door, demanding an answer, pairing the harshness of his tongue with an intense glare searing them all. Falke gave a soft but funny little gasp, and had enough presence of mind left to sit down quickly in an open chair. Fingers curled into his hair absently, endearingly displacing whatever sort of hairstyle Mildred had been going for, hands covering his face, and elbows rested on his kneecaps. Barely managing not to faint, as he strove to simply focus on anything and everything his mind could grasp unto as a distraction from the people around him; shutting down (mostly) his abilities as quickly as he could.

Falke did not bother to answer Haru waiting for an explanation. Even when it would have been easy for him to give a long or short answer regarding the situation that happened. He had not been apart of that room or its' issues in the first place. Secondly, by the minor mental confirmation earlier between Autumn and himself in regards to keeping the fine, poison laced civility in their room afloat without conflict (ie. if you're not going to tell Xabier, I'm sure as hell not). And lastly, well... It hurt. After nearly three and half years he'd spent with the various group members - ranging from the warriors themselves, to the guardians, their teachers, other students, etc - his powers had developed, connections became stronger. The people around him were drowning in tension, deep, under the skin, befuddling his mind enough already. He did not feel the need to relive it in high definition.

Harper, surprisingly or not, exhausted as he; was the first to offer an answer to Haru's demand. While true to an extent, it was so piss-poor basic it didn't accurately give the red haired guardian a true summary of the event that had occurred. But given his mental condition, exhausted of course but not 'okay' by any means, one could not really expect anymore from him. Xabier quickly rushing to his side, as if they were the only two in the room, ignoring Haru, the question he'd asked, and the uneasy cloud that had fallen across them all in the room. Skylar was next, not truly answering either, as she hissed hot, angry air through her teeth as she called about Tallyho and Kyle to answer (or really, confess technically) their parts in it all as well. Dorian, at last, spoke up evenly persistent as he summarized the stupid situation as it had occurred, with parts left out of course but the gist was there.

“Wait what? You have got to be kidding me. Okay you people, everyone but those three: Harper, Tallyho, Kyle. Get out. Go on the dance floor. Don’t get into any trouble. Don’t ask questions. You’re not in trouble. Just go. Bye.”

Falke did honestly try not to look like he was too eager or rushing to get out of the room. And unsteady legs and glazed eyes certainly would help an argument. But it was a relief to be out of the confining walls and closed quarters of a group that was often so close to the boiling over point it was frankly ridiculous. And of course being able to stop his repetitive and stupid German rendition of counting sheep, as he focused away from the thoughts and emotions of the others and the whole situation.

He stepped forward from the dark hall into the glittering dance floor world of the rich and powerful that had come to witness their ceremony, hesitantly taking it all in before necessarily diving into cheap but required talk with all the dignitaries. He felt a presence come out behind him next, instantly knowing it was Autumn, due to her being the last one to have a true mental conversation with him. It was obvious he hadn't quite turned off the slightly leaky faucet (wondering briefly what she had thought if she had potentially heard his sheep counting), but more obvious that it hadn't been his lack of focus causing his inability to hear her mind early - she simply had static chatter, all the time, riding across her mental plane demanding and tugging attention from her.

/Are they always so loud?\

Falke mentally questioned, as he tilted his head to glance blearily back at her in curiosity - before a group of noble women or men sprang upon the reasons for the grandeur and party around them. Clearly assuming it was the feeling of the spirits she used at the disposal of her powers, because he could not actually understand anything they were potentially saying. But it felt wrong, too much death and decay on a young women's mind, a hair raising experience to say the very least.

Both groups were brought out to attend the ceremony, almost as if nothing had happened. Autumn smiled for the crowd, happy to see the princess and the guardians. Even Mori and Karma were there, which made the situation seem light. Such an air of cheerfulness, it must have been creepy to the others. It certainly felt out of place to Autumn.

Kit, too, had dressed up and even braided his hair. It came as a bit of a surprise to Autumn, who always thought such things to be too feminine for his tastes. Apparently, it wasn't a problem. It looked nice, though, so she could see why he would go with it.

As expected, standing close to Xabier was awkward. Though, compared to how the others must have felt, it wasn't too bad. They had to stand on a stage as if nothing had happened right after such a traumatic event unfolded before their eyes. Autumn wasn't sure what the details involved. She only know the basics. It was like listening to the news. One might have a basic understanding of the situation but could never fully understand every bit and piece. It was incredibly frustrating.

She sipped the wine and continued on with the ceremony, not surprised to find Haru back stage and fuming. That man needed a vacation. Or a hug. Maybe both.

How could they be heralded as the saviors of humanity when their infighting alone could destroy them? They didn't deserve the title of warriors. They didn't deserve to be wearing such nice clothes and living in such nice rooms. But wasn't that how government worked? As long as they knew the right people they could act like fools and still be trusted and loved. It left a bitter taste in Autumn's mouth to think of this.

Even some of the more noteworthy spirits mentioned it to her as she proceeded. One dead Duchess in particular chuckled at the similarity. Autumn ignored her.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?”

Autumn wanted to ask that as well, though it was more of a “WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THAT HAPPEN?”. The distance that everyone had had always upset her. Everyone always split off into their own little friend groups and even then it felt forced at times. As if they were fellow students in a classroom that one only put up with for the sake of socialization. Not that Autumn herself wasn't guilty of that. After a while, she even gave up on trying to bring them together. Was that why she liked Liam and Xabier? Out of necessity? To feel as if she had some control over her life and could still make it her own? She wasn't nearly introspective enough to linger on these thoughts or even grasp them for more than a second.

Skylar was obviously upset. No wonder, she was smack dab in the middle of it. The same went for Dorian, who gave a rather cut and dry explanation.

Just what went on in there?

To think that it was all over with so quickly felt weird. It seemed a bit otherworldly. Well, that and Falke was still mentally connected with Autumn and he sounded like he was summoning a demon out of hell. He probably wouldn't be doing anything like that, though. Otherwise, she might get a bit jealous. The occult was her territory. It would be sad to have someone else take over for her.

/Pretty much. It's like, um, a bunch of people who couldn't talk to anyone until now. So, they're really noisy. I don't blame them though. It must have been really lonely having no one to talk to. So, they can be as loud as they want. I don't mind./

Honestly, it was nice to talk (think?) about it. No one had ever really asked how her powers worked. Explaining things was exciting, even though she wasn't that good at it.

/What about you? I never really thought about it, but does it ever bug you? Reading minds and all? Because i'm pretty sure I heard some strange stuff going on in your head or however it works and you sounded kinda annoyed. Not that I blame you. I would be. Speaking of that... I wonder how everyone else is doing.../

“Hey... are you guys alright?” Autumn looked at Skylar and Dorian, the ones caught in the middle during that hellish time. Dorian still smelled a bit of blood. It wasn't as if she was ignoring Falke at this point, she was simply multitasking. Talking to him and trying to comfort her friends were both important.

Without asking, she took the time to hug both of them. They looked like they needed it.

“I know we're supposed to socialize and all, but if you don't want to talk to anyone I can keep people busy. The same goes for you, Xabier. I mean, it was rough for everyone. So if there's anything I can do...”

The desire to help was almost desperate. Would Falke pick up on that? Autumn didn't know. She didn't care. A passing spirit said something about how to dance in a dress without falling over.

Skylar was secretly slightly relieved that Dorian had intervened before the others got a chance to. Never the one to add to any of the drama, he calmly gave Haru a very basic and unbiased recap. Short, sweet, and simple- that was Dorian for you.

“You have got to be kidding me. Okay you people, everyone but those three: Harper, Tallyho, Kyle. Get out. Go on the dance floor. Don’t get into any trouble. Don’t ask questions. You’re not in trouble. Just go. Bye.”

Thankful that she wouldn’t be forced to sit through another rehashing of the events, Skylar wordlessly spun on her heel, eager to put as much distance between herself and the trio as possible.

The party should have been a welcome distraction, yet she couldn’t bring herself to focus her attention on anything but what had happened. She paused in the doorway, taking a moment to breathe before throwing herself among the guests. She would rather be anywhere else at that moment, but she knew better than to disobey both Mildred and Haru- they didn’t need a runaway month warrior on their hands as well.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again and plastered a smile on her face before following the others inside. It was disgusting how easy it was to deceive everyone, how a simple wave and smile had the entire kingdom falling to their knees.

“If they only knew what had just happened,” Skylar muttered to the remaining warriors, glancing over at her teammates.

“Hey... are you guys alright?”

Oh, was Skylar ever happy to see Autumn. She let the perky blonde wrap her in a hug, desperately aching for the comfort of at least someone.

“Forget Raggedy Anne, they should make a Raggedy Skylar doll. Shit, I was so pissed- I still am, but you know, what’s done is done…” She replied with a tired smile before turning to face Dorian. “You did great with Harper. Sorry about your hand though,” She said, gesturing to his bandaged palm. “And thank you for explaining to Haru, snapping at Tallyho and Kyle to do it probably wasn’t the best idea, but…”

As Haru spoke Tallyho sucked on her fingers. The more he spoke the faster she ate. And while he spoke of Kyle—his issues with school, with anger management—she finished all of the grapes in her hand. And then he got to her. She eagerly peered back at the table. There was no way on Aires that she was going to be able to get up and get more. So she sucked on her own fingers. The index and thumb posed print to print as if she were simply savoring some imaginary grape. As if she hadn’t just run out of her only coping mechanism.
Collaboration and team work? Since when did she actually, actuallyneed that? Every cyclopean she fought, every bad situation she’s been in, every trial and tribulation she’s been through has been because of her own resilience. The others? They just happened to be in the same area doing their own thing. Every person who has ever saved her life, or helped her in some significant way has been from outside of the team. And one of them, though they didn’t know at the time, was aligned with the enemy. So as far as Tallyho was concerned teamwork did nothing for her.
She felt that everything she said to Harper was said for a reason. She had three years to think about it. Three years to be constantly reminded that no matter how obnoxious or unthoughtful or self-serving Harper was, people were always going to still care more about his well-being and his feelings and leave her to drown. And this reflection did not just apply to a good chunk of the group but to an extent she felt this about Dorian even.
She bit her finger as Haru went on:
”Get over things.”
”I cannot forget.” she thought.
”You’ll die alone.”
”Don’t you think I know that?”

She was prepared. She always lived alone even within crowds. As a child she felt strange. She learned to speak later than most children. They assumed she was an invalid. Mute. Stupid. She was dirty and she was stupid. And she was always hungry. And her mother was shrinking. And she ate her meals among the goats because she didn’t want to see her mother shrinking so much. Sometimes she would eat up to six meals a day just to remove herself. And when her mother shrank so small that she shrank out of existence Tallyho thought that she too was shrinking. And she became scared and became obsessed with being strong. And she ate more. She picked fights with boys. And she was still dirty and stupid and motherless but she beat the boys and took their lunches. And even when the old women braided her little orphan head with lilies she felt alone. And what was the point of having those women waste time braiding her hair if she was still going to feel alone anyway? So she left. And she walked a lot. And she was always hungry. And the night she cried the hardest was when she was hungry and got a splinter in her toe and couldn’t get it out with her little fingers and stubby nails and she let it sit there. And she felt so alone that she spoke to the splinter. The splinter became her friend because it made her feel something other than loneliness. Pain, yes. But she wasn’t lonely anymore. And she lived her life this way every night finding some new thing to talk to. She spoke to the wind because it made her feel like she was flying. She spoke to the fire because it made her warm. They made her feel things physically and they were distractions. Sometimes she wasn’t hungry. And soon she grew into womanhood. (And she was never sure when she became a woman because she hadn’t had anyone to tell her so.) And she resigned herself to this.
Before she struggled with trying to find a good reason for why she was alive. Taking her own life had never occurred to her. But she didn’t feel like she contributed anything of value to the world. She lived for no one, not her clan, not even herself. She resigned herself to this.
And then suddenly she had a calling. Suddenly she was this month warrior. At first she thought it was all in the necklace—something she quite honestly stole from somewhere to trade for food but never got around to it. She resigned herself to this.
And she resigned herself to the fact that she had trouble expressing her feelings. And the fact that no one was going to care about her but herself. And she was okay with this. To some it might seem a bit eerie but it was natural for her. And she resigned herself to the fact that she will always be hungry for something other than a meal that sits at the pit of her stomach for only a few hours before dissolving. And to the fact that, at the root of it all, she’s always felt a little less than human. And that was who she was and how she was.
And then Haru moved away from her.
She could feel herself melting on the white upholstered love seat. Watery butter on a mound of mashed potatoes. And she felt relieved. And then it was over and Harper was crying. Tallyho loathed the sight of tears. And the taste when they ran into the corners of her mouth. And they probably didn’t think she knew the taste but they were force-fed to her by the spoon of her cheeks as they fell without hesitation the night after the first time she killed a cyclopean. After her seizure in jail. And many other times but—no—she would always be a little less than human and this was natural. And she was okay with it. Falling down that hill and onto earth was the beginning of the hardest chapter of her life and she was okay with it. She was okay, okay—
“Okay…” That was what Tallyho said at the end of Haru’s intervention. She wasn’t particularly cold but she wasn’t passionate either. Then Kyle thanked Haru and Harper asked if they were done.
“I’m done.” he said, “But it’s not up to me to decide when the three of you are.”
And with this Haru hoisted himself out of his chair and made a dispassionate walk out of the room. Haru had changed a lot since the first day they met him. That day he appeared as a well-dressed, quite handsome, dashing, charming, witty young man with a natural affinity for success. But these days he was more rugged, hair un-kept, a slight limp in his step. Sunken eyes and paler skin. He seemed like he was getting older but he wasn’t supposed to because he was immortal. Yet he was beginning to look like someone’s aging father. And conversations with Haru became less like teenage rebellion and more like the curt conversation where your father reminds you that one day he will die. And your throat gets dry.

Surprisingly, Harper found himself initially immobile after Haru left. His original plan was to bolt for the door as soon as it was clear they were over.

In fact, he didn't realize he was still in the room until about a minute after Haru left. He could have sworn he'd already left the room, rather than just imagining it.

With a strong sniff and one final swipe of his hand, he swallowed thickly and stood up, eyes still red and watery, but tears no longer rolling down in streams.

Wordlessly he walked across the room to the door. When he reached the door jamb, he paused. Took a shaky breath, as if he might say something to Kyle and Tallyho. Perhaps an apology was on the cusp of his tongue. But old habits were difficult to break, and after a few seconds of just standing there looking like he might talk, he ended up leaving the room entirely without so much as a spoken farewell.

He didn't think mingling in the ballroom would help much, but he didn't expect it to suffocate him so much. He'd hardly taken a step towards it when he was suddenly overcome with the noise, the sights...everything. Sensory overload. The last thing he wanted to deal with. He felt like he might faint.

Briefly his eyes glazed over and found familiar faces grouped together. Skylar. Xabi. Dorian. Autumn. Falke. Talking.

On normal accounts he wouldn't have thought twice about approaching them. But this was certainly not a normal account.

Taking a shaky breath, he averted his eyes, looking down at the ground as he stuck to the perimeter of the room, rather than cutting straight through the middle as he was typically want to do. A hand trailed against the ornate wall, as if for support, as he briskly made his way towards the exit, avoiding all eye contact, but forcing a smile and a quick nod should someone greet him.

When he made it outside, he didn't run. Didn't make a break for the ocean like he had originally planned. His stomach was tied in too many knots, legs too weak. Throat dry. Body shaking in general. Instead he leaned against the outer wall, breathing hard, the muffled noise of the festivities inside wafting out and thudding against his ears.

The night air helped cool him down physically, but he still ended up sitting, feet sliding out from him as his back skidded downwards towards the ground. He pulled his knees in and pressed his forehead against his pants, eyes closed, fingers buried in his curly hair.

Invisible. Harper wished he could be invisible.

What does that mean? Kyle wondered at Haru's departing statement. He squirmed again and glanced at the other two. Harper was still sniffing and blubbering, but the younger blond turned away, thinking it better to let him be. After a few moments, the older male got up and headed for the door, where he stopped. Expecting more than the desperate stare, Kyle looked up from his feet, but before long Harper also left in silence. Only the two younger blonds remained.

For some reason, Tallyho was sucking on her fingers. Kyle was alone with a girl and all he could think about was her sucking her fingers. Awkward and miserable after digging up and scattering in front of them their unpleasant pasts. On the flip side, he did finally have a chance to talk to her, but he still needed to deal with all the mess he made today. He could stay here and talk with her, sorting out their relationship, or he could go out in front of rich fancy-dressed fake people who cared nothing about him or any of them except as living trophies, to deal with the bigger problems.

Alone with Tallyho felt safer right now, and he said so, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I don't know about you, but I don't really want to go out there with all those strange people." He gave a very small smile. "The food back here is probably better anyway. Let me get you something." Then he stood up piled up two plates for them. Hers, he piled up with samples of everything that the July-December group left, including that banya cake. His, he filled with banya cake and mostly fruit, no turkey or whatever other meat was on the table. There was one slice of banya left afterwards, and he handed that to Tallyho as well.

He sat down again and looked at the floor a few more moments. Where should he start? What should he say to her? "It may seem like strange timing, but there are a couple things I really would like to talk to you about. I just never seem to have a chance to talk to you, or..." he paused and pulled on his collar again, actually loosening it in the process and undoing the cravat, "I end up doing something stupid like today. Not just starting a fight, but ignoring you and other people. It was stupid that I never actually attempted to get to know you or Dorian and a few others most likely. Is it too late to start over?" he asked out loud this time.

"There was an argument. I don't know why it started, but Kyle pushed Harper-"
Oh no. This was exactly the type of thing that he was hoping to avoid. One of the reasons why he had avoided his friends initially was because he didn't want any confrontations like this. Didn't want to witness it.

"Then Tallyho suddenly told Harper exactly what she thought of him and then the three of them started arguing with Kyle threatening Harper and Harper and Tallyho monologuing at each other until because all of them wanted to have the last word."
This didn't sound good. He'd have to talk to them about what happened when everyone had calmed down, including himself. And when he did he'd stand up for himself.

"Then, I don't know, I guess what they were saying hit too hard, Harper reacted badly, and he tried to..."
Tried to? Tried to do what? Xabier was so confused. Did he try to hit them? To fight back? To....?
No.
No.
He didn't. Xabier looked up at Harper in shock.
Since when was it this bad? Was he hurting this bad all this time?
Xabier had thought that everything had been going well for them. Perfect even. Yet all this time...
Shellshocked wasn't strong enough to describe how he felt right now.
Scary thoughts flooded in, unwanted. What if this was his fault? What if he pushed the situation to end up like this?
Even worse he had believed that he was doing the right thing. Xabier had been so sure.
Now, not so much.
Oh god, he caused this.
Harper had tried to....
Xabier couldn't even think the word let alone say it.
All he could feel was shame, shame and some more shame.

"And I stopped him. Three years worth of animosity finally boiled over and this cluster fuck of an evening happened."
He looked at Dorian then. Of course, Dorian would be the one to stop him. He was always the one to fix things.

There were no smiles left inside, just a quiet thrumming sound in the back of his ear.
Xabier just stood still and followed the others out to the ballroom.

“I know we're supposed to socialize and all, but if you don't want to talk to anyone I can keep people busy. The same goes for you, Xabier. I mean, it was rough for everyone. So if there's anything I can do...”

"Do what you want." He said, not particularly interested in pretending to be friendly anymore.

Hell, he was busy making small talk while Harper was in so much pain.
This incident had reinforced the widening gap between him and the others, including Harper this time.
The more he thought about it the more he retreated into himself..

He walked straight to Dorian.
"You said you stopped him." He wanted to sound blasé, but it came out just sounding grateful. "Thank you."
He said it calmly but inside he was breaking. He understood what happened but it made no sense.
The thoughts didn't flow right in his head. Chunky pieces of a jigsaw all muddled up and impossible to put together.
Harper was alive, that was good but Xabier couldn't help wondering how it could have turned out if he had succeeded.
He needed to know. And he knew that Dorian didn't like him so he'd probably tell him the truth even if it hurt him.
"Was I in any way responsible for what had happened in there?"

Autumn was like a butterfly. That is a butterfly that had already sipped too many flowers that day already, and still, eagerly, went after the glass of young, sweet-smelling wine sitting on a distant window-sill. Her thoughts were loud and chaotic, bright and colorful, absent minded yet demanding attention; even though the intelligible whispers of the dead kept making their presence known. Falke was reminded rather abruptly in this small stretch of time of the reason why the two of them never held very much active conversation with one another. Goddess above, he was just trying to be more or less friendly not complete a mental exercise!

/Pretty much. It's like, um, a bunch of people who couldn't talk to anyone until now. So, they're really noisy. I don't blame them though. It must have been really lonely having no one to talk to. So, they can be as loud as they want. I don't mind.\ Falke responded with a silent presence of affirmation that he had heard what she had said. He personally didn't agree to the mindset of allowing them to be as loud as they wanted, because if it was in her power to use them as necessary and silence them when not. Well, he would love a 5 minuete nap without someone else's daydreams or nightmares wandering in. It would be lovely...

/What about you? I never really thought about it, but does it ever bug you? Reading minds and all? Because i'm pretty sure I heard some strange stuff going on in your head or however it works and you sounded kinda annoyed. Not that I blame you. I would be. Speaking of that... I wonder how everyone else is doing...\ Falke visibly frowned. Not entirely about the fact that she had gone off on a tangent again, thoughts as tangled as a Nomansland jungle to navigate over the hisses of voices creeping and crawling and drowning everything he wasn't trying to focus on; but also, she'd heard something strange stuff? He must have not shut off the connection when they'd gone out to the ceremony, or when Haru had cornered them to get an explanation from the other group of 'what the hell had happened', or now talking with her. But what would have been strange - oh, oh...

/I was counting sheep, in Deutsch, something to keep myself, myself, instead of reliving that experience over again in my head. I apologize for still having the connection open. It can be disconcerting... My abilities are a experience.\ He acknowledged to Autumn. It was simple and straight to the point. If only because of her wandering attention and desperate desire to help the nearby Dorian and Skylar, and by an extent Xabier too, allowed him a moment of respite from the chitterlings of her mind and her ghostly baggage.

Falke glanced wearily over the crowd, feeling that their moment of peace was only the calm of the storm. The party wasn't going to wait for them to it, very shortly it would be coming to them - regardless of Autumn's good intentions to be a fence and keep those adoring 'fans' that wanted to talk with the warriors busy. In his distraction, he never quite listened to the entirety of what Skylar had to say in response so much more than feeling it tickling the edge of his mental range he was limiting to the November warrior mostly. It was enough to make him aware that the situation was hardly out of the woods yet, especially if people kept bringing it up further...

"Do what you want, Autumn... You said you stopped him, Dorian. Was I in any way responsible for what had happened in there?"

Falke flashed an uncomfortable grimace as he bit his own tongue in spite and his cheek-line paled again. Bloody hell. Could anyone leave it alone! Seriously... Autumn had been trying to be helpful. Skylar wasn't exactly helping, by poking the bear with a stick. Xabier had simply slapped the bear upside the head. And Dorian hadn't respond as of yet, but Falke didn't give him the chance.

His silence had worn out.
And his head hurt.

"Xabier, honestly?" Falke rumbled, casting a heated glare over his shoulder directed at the group hovering right behind him, a hand unconsciously raised to rub in irritation at his temple. "Maybe you were mentioned, maybe you weren't. But why would you think you were responsible for another persons' actions? Could we just-..." He paused, short of saying what he really wanted to tell them all off. Which mostly consisted asking them to please exit off the ass-hat train, because we've all derailed at fuck with Falke's head today enough already. He had quickly guarded his mind against Autumn's accidentally listening in on his true thoughts about his mind-reading powers today. Annoyed and being an 'experience', hah, no, that was not enough to describe the issues of being the emotion and thought trashcan of the group.

It only took a moment to find a more appropriate statement, before he spoke up again. "Leave the past in the past, and focus on the present. Talking about all this now in such a (public) setting doesn't help us right now for Goddess' sake." Falke finished with a ill-favored hiss of warning at the end, as his voice grew purposefully softer as the crowd's drifting potentially brought someone into eavesdropping distance. It was abundantly clear that he was getting tired of their games, and that he honestly wanted to keep his head on his shoulders, literally if not figuratively as well, and wished everyone else would have the same quiet sensibilities (what a wish) with their situation.

With a thin pensive line resuming its' place on his lips, he turned away without further words on the matter and eagerly (cough, not really, but lets' go with eagerly) stepped forward into the swirl of grandeur - /Autumn, left? I will take right.\ - and was immediately snatched into idle, more uncomfortable than not, conversation with some worldly nobleman or noblewoman.

...

Upon the completion of the presentation ceremony of the month warriors, Lillian had disappeared from her place in the Guardian line between Ondine and Kit. Despite the delicate up-do Mildred had assured her wouldn't fall free this time like at the gathering the night before, she had opted to leave the festivities before anything could have the slightest provocation of getting out of hand. With murmured farewells to those closest to her, she moved quickly, efficiently, and most of all unnoticed. Escaping outside into a nearby corridor, leaning against an open window sill, to view the open air above the city gradually slowing down for the night in quiet solitude.

The peace didn't last long, however, as her wash-out, gray-blue eyes focused intently on a new companion that had stumbled out of the festivities, to cool off physically and mentally in the cool night air - recognizing it as Harper even in the dim lightning of rising moonlight and distant torches. Lillian had figured an uncomfortable hunch when a scattered Mildred had dragged Haru off, talking with her hands flapping and pitched whispers of agitation; and the appearance of the crumbled June warrior leaning against an outer wall told the rest of the story well enough. Oh children, she silently cursed...

"If you're looking to hide, it would be best to pull deeper into the shadows." Lillian hummed softly in simple advice. Her accent twittering breezily and unguarded in the empty space between the two of them. Wordlessly turning away again with a rustle of heavy cloth of the loose fitting pale gold drapery that hung from a high metal choker and her lean shoulders, to watch the world silently go by once again.

The party continued to flow around him, voices mixing interchangeably. This was where he had always felt more comfortable, surrounded by people. But he didn't feel happy at all.
Everything stung as if he has been plunged in lemon juice and all the little wounds he never knew had, started to make themselves known.
What next? Getting tripped over and stabbed in the back with cutlery? Poison in his drink?

The truth of the situation had finally hit him. This sort of thing would happen again and again and it would end the exact same way every time until it didn't.

"Calm down Falke, I haven't done anything to you. All I wanted to know was the obvious questions. But if none of you have the common decency to at least tell me the answers, I'll go find it somewhere else."
His voice deepened slightly, getting huskier and heavily accented. Tiredness flooded him. He wanted to go home. Or at the very least lie down and sleep for a long time.

He was tired of them childishly hiding information from him and then scolding him for wanting to know it.
Even if he was quiet and did as he was told (as he always did) there would still be someone glaring at him. It was always lose/ lose for him.

It was like schoolyard bullying, and he wasn't going to bite.

Falke just walked away as if he couldn't hear him.
In fact, he knew that Falke could, but that he was ignoring him the way he always did.
Even when Xabier had tried to be friends with him, it was the same scenario.
He was tired of running after people trying to get them to like him.
And if Falke was like this when Xabier was upset, then he wasn't worth the effort.

None of them were.

Tick

He thought of his family back home. The people who no matter how many fights they had, loved him. That had taught him that he had to pick his fights carefully and right now this fight wasn't worth it.
Xabier had to let go of all the anger he felt for the moment so he could do the right thing.
Go do whatever he could to heal the wounds in the group. Both physical and metaphorical.

Falke, as much as it was unnecessary, was right. They were in public. He would have to hold up his anger (again) and let it out later.
He couldn't pretend that he had responsibility over other people's actions. But he sure as hell had responsibility over his own actions.
And for a while now he had been selfish. His relationship with Harper was selfish. They both did things that caused harm, but Xabier's actions were his own responsibility. It was about time that he stood up and faced them like a man.

Dorian's silence didn't change Xabier's opinion of him, instead it reinforced the differences between them. Xabier, as much as he tried, couldn't stay quiet about these things.

Turning on his heel, he wondered why he even went to the other dark haired guy in the first place. He wouldn't do it again anytime soon.
He spoke with the well dressed noblemen for a few minutes with a fake smile plastered on his face. It was funny because he had never felt the need to pretend to be happy until recently.
It was annoying, but he was put into a corner. If he started to kick off, he wouldn't be able to go to Harper.... Shit. Harper.... He remembered a random fact that you should never leave someone in that situation alone otherwise....
"Bathroom." He excused himself from anyone who cared to enquire where he was going.

Departing from the well-spoken company he headed towards the room where Harper, Tallyho and Kyle had been with Haru.
"Leave the past in the past? Qué? Vete a la mierda." He spat out the words fast and loud. It wasn't fair. He couldn't see anything fair about this whole thing.
However docile he was in English, his Spanish was always more passionate which usually meant more angry. He missed being able to just speak his mind without having to constantly translate.
All alone in the hallway with no one around to hear him, he swore and swore. Words that he didn't even knew he knew came pouring out.
He knew if he went into the room at that moment he would probably just blow up at the first person. Best to let some out now.
He paused at the door handle wondering if he could interrupt what was going on. It was of course, Haru's surprisingly calm order to leave that had driven him away. He wouldn't mess with Haru out of both self preservation and respect for his efforts looking after them.

Haru, who was always so blatantly in charge, was still in charge yet seemed more tired and deflated than usual. Something was wrong. A little warning sign popped up but he brushed it aside.
Harper, first. Then finish this issue with Kyle and Tallyho. After that he could figure things out.

He walked into the room where Harper had been, the door closing neatly behind him. He had no shadows by his side.
There was only the two blonde month warriors in the room with him. Harper missing.
Maybe Haru was talking to him alone.
They seemed to be talking amicably between themselves.

A million ways for him to open up the floor for conversation.

He walked past them looking around for a third figure. There was someone he had to make sure was alright before trying anything else.
Walking past them again he went outside and found a lone figure sitting in the shadows.

Lillian was there too. She was telling someone about hiding in the shadows. Xabier wouldn't be deterred by the dark though. In fact it was the most comforting sensation all night.

A jolt of fear and then relief. He sat down beside the figure, eyes quickly appraising for injuries.

Noticing it.
Looking away.

Xabier paused. He was so bloody angry, but his relief took over.
"It's just me."
He reached over and ran his fingers through Harper's hair softly in an attempt to soothe.
"It's going to be alright."

Tallyho sat there unflinchingly as Haru left, then Harper, and soon Kyle spoke. She did not show a sign of life until food was placed into arms reach and though she ate and grasped the food feverishly, remnants of fodder staining the area around her mouth and tumbling down the front of her dress, her eyes did not move from the door and her lips did not flinch.
Xabier came in and left as quickly, typical behavior. Kyle kept talking. Friendship this, new start that. She did not pause to pick out the food that slipped down the collar of the dress. Didn’t he know that it was far too late for all of this “peace making”? Even if he wasn’t the one who really bothered her? Didn’t Haru know? What did Haru know?
“I will never forget,” she said, voice hushed and barred between her teeth. Smothered. Her voice was the people and her teeth the government. “I won’t!”
Her outburst was punctuated by the curt noise of a dish smashing to the floor. Her small body posed forward on the sofa. Mid-lunge and the hand that involuntarily destroyed a dish clenched into a fist of shame. Green eyes twin planets quaking in the whites of her eyes. And when they glazed she blinked herself free.
“I apologize,” she said to Kyle. From the sofa she slumped to her knees like an unattended blanket at the edge of the bed. Pathetic and cotton-soft, and worn. She gathered the pieces of plate with cusped hands and held them. She found no place to dispose of them so dropped them again. And then the shuffled forward on her knees like a toddler or an ape until she could stand up right by the miracle of some evolution of psyche. And she stumbled out of the door. Winded and weathered, not nearly as pretty as she began. And as she trudged down the hall, she worried about having another seizure. And the shaking... Then she stumbled over Haru’s words. Be alone and die alone. Be alone and die alone.
Since becoming a month warriors Tallyho never experienced so much emotional distress in her entire life. After the untimely death of her mother she learned to suppress her disappointment and troubles. This was the case of many orphaned. There was no consistent person to confide in so she confided in self-reliance. She was the baby who learned to yearn for pure sustenance instead of sustenance and the comfort of touch. And something about this situation (or perhaps these people) had broken her walls for worse.
And she had already made it out the door to the main ballroom when she realized that she wasn’t storming off to confide in herself for once.
Whether he saw it or not Tallyho wordlessly burrowed her head into Dorian’s shoulder with force, a time bomb ready to explode with scarlet face and ugly tears. And she really didn’t want to cry in front of everyone else but she didn’t want to be alone and die alone. And suddenly she felt bad for dismissing Kyle’s invitation to friendship, or any other person’s legitimate invitation to friendship. But a minute ago she wasn’t ready for it because a minute ago she had trouble distinguishing who was the enemy and who feverishly loved her for all of her brashness and alienating nature. And she believed that Dorian practiced this from the beginning and so she had to begin with him.
Haru had taken a beating today. Between the ceremony and the warriors and Mildred it felt like his day was spiraling at 100 miles per hour. And it felt like every time he was about to fall into the ocean the wind pushed him closer to the face of a cliff full of hard, red rock. And the final gust of wind, one that would finally end his day with rock to the face was the sight of a familiar figure up in the darkness of a balcony, tucked (in an almost insultingly casual way) out of the sight of some of the most vigilant. To be quite honest Haru would not have caught this face had a drunk lady nearby not jumped and sent the wine from her glass flying inches above her with some of the spirit draping a damp curtain over Haru’s shoulder pad. And that glob of red liquid, which was suspended against gravity for less than a second happened to highlight the figure of Amber in the balcony, wrist rotating a glass of whiskey casually. And Amber caught his eye and he smiled. And they found a mutual understanding. And Haru left the ballroom discretely to confront the arsonist without causing much attention.
“I see you didn’t heed my warning,” Amber sang through a sip, “about staying out of our way?”
“I see I didn’t either,” Haru said coldly from the chair adjacent to the one eyed man.
“Listen. You and your warriors… You’re nothing but pawns in this whole fiasco—“
“With the government? Oh I know. But we need numbers to protect ourselves from arsonists and traitors…”
“You are trapped in the cycle. You know not what you do.”
“What cycle? Enlighten me.”
“I am cursed, I cannot. But I warn you, stay back. Or Shepard, we will not hesitate to slaughter your herd.”
“Then we will not hesitate to slaughter you.”
“Then let us save you.”
“Save us?”
“Save you.”

Dorian left the room without any further prompting, only the tightly coiled ball of tension that was currently his body keeping him from flat-out fleeing. He felt like he need to punch something, except his dominant hand was currently weeping blood at a gradually slowing pace. He felt like he needed to go to his room and hide under the covers like a distressed child except this night had been a disaster already without the March warrior vanishing to selfishly lick his mental and physical wounds. What he knew, however, was that he didn't need anyone to talk to him right now. Everything was just so... so normal with the other month warriors. And, okay, yes, he absolutely knew that he didn't exactly look three seconds away from a mental breakdown, but he was Dorian- that was his modus operandi for dealing with stressful situations; standing perfectly still and tucking any particularly violent emotions away until he could deal with them. Everyone else, though, well, it was grating.

He could probably deal with a stranger right now- someone completely unaware of what just happened. Or someone who wouldn't ask questions, who would natter on about this and that so that Dorian didn't feel like he was on a team of... of hormonal and angsty teenagers. They weren't teenager anymore, but, oh, God, did it feel like they were, stuck in that awkward stage but without the excuses of hormones and puberty.

But now here was Autumn asking if he and Skylar were okay (absolutely not) and giving him a hug. It wasn't that Dorian didn't like hugs, it was just that he wasn't always the best with sudden physical contact, especially since the last time he'd touched someone in the last few hours had been holding onto a writhing mess of a man. He stiffened at the contact, but absently patted her shoulder with his uninjured hand. He knew that she meant well, even if the way she was acting so calmly motherly was nearly painful to endure. It was like she wanted to help but didn't really understand why they needed help or what help they needed. That was Autumn, though- entirely too obsessed with being an important member of the team without actually realizing that she already was.

Skylar spoke next, all of the bitterness she'd been near-silently suffering through dripping from her words like acid. But then even she was acting painfully casual or maybe she was just internalizing like he was? He took the thanks in stride, nodding his head in a short, stiff motion, a finger idly tracing the edge of his bandage. The bloody red was already starting to morph into a dried, rust color at the edges away from the cut. Just a few more hours to endure.

Then Xabier was by his side, a thank you tumbling from his lips that Dorian didn't feel like he deserved (it was the decent thing to do, he would have shrugged at any other moment, but he wasn't completely sure that if he hadn't done something, someone else would have).

"Was I in any way responsible for what had happened in there?"

What? Dorian blinked owlishly for a moment before realizing that, yes, Xabier was absolutely serious. He wasn't sure what that question meant- that Xabier thought they were all homophobes or that they were just really unable to accept his relationship with Harper, that Xabier was self-absorbed or self-hating and blamed everything that was bad in his life and others' on himself, or that something said about him had been the straw to break the Harper-camel's back. The answer was so painfully and obviously, in Dorian's mind, no. Yes, Xabier was brought up and maybe that had been a minor part of Tallyho and Kyle's list of grievances, but the problem had been with Harper and all the growing animosity between the Month Warriors for the past few years.

"I-" he began until Falke swooped in with sharp words and more situational awareness than anyone else was showing before wandering off to practice what he preached. What Dorian didn't except was Xabier's reaction. Towards Falke, yes. Towards him? No.

It was true that Dorian had never been fond of Xabier. At best he was neutral towards him and at worst, well, bitterly neutral. Xabier had never liked him, had made that evident back at the Academy and had generally spent their last few years together either ignoring him or generally looking irritated with him. Dorian had responded, of course, by ignoring and avoiding him because he didn't have the time or energy for stupid quarrels with no real basis in reality. And now, oh, now that Dorian had saved his boyfriend or fuckbuddy or whatever they were to each other, now that he hadn't spoken quickly enough for the Spaniard's liking since, Dorian was very sorry, Falke had cut him off, Xabier was acting like Dorian had done something terribly, terribly cruel, like he'd just ridiculed him or bitched at him or... or.... that Dorian, who had literally never done anything to him, had been to one to scold him and overtly dislike him instead of the other way around. It tipped the balance of Dorian's so carefully maintained self-control when Xabier shot him a withering look before marching off in a huff, an honest-to-God huff.

"Fucking plebian," He hissed, eyes narrowed and lips pulled back into a scowl.

And maybe he didn't mean it and maybe Xabier was just being extraordinarily pissy because of his nasty shock a few moments ago, but Dorian felt pretty damn good about it. The only thing he regretted was the last word- not because it was particularly rude and elitist, which it totally was, but because he sounded exactly like... like... A hand shot to his mouth. He sounded exactly like Trent. The word was one of the General's favorites, used to describe everything from bad booze to one or all of the month warriors. And Dorian had just said it. Good God. Maybe he was spending too much time with him?

Well, no. Trent may have been a legitimately terrible and anti-social human being, but, and Dorian hated to admit this, the man had grown on him in their time together. Maybe it was his lack of censorship, the fact that he ignored the other month warriors, or, more likely than not, because he was vaguely fond of Dorian. He never caused Dorian too much drama, he was entirely blunt and painfully honest, he always acted in the same way, his fits of pique didn't seem to lead to suicide attempts...

Before he had time for any more introspection that might have taken him to a very dark place, he was faced with a new situation entirely. He'd seen Tallyho's approach, all flushed cheeks and fat, rolling tears coating her face before she'd buried her face in his shoulder. His arms reached around her automatically, pulling her closer partially to hold her up and partially because this was a hug he didn't mind giving in the slightest.

Eyes were being drawn to their little scene, darted then overtly staring. Dorian, with his solid grip on propriety and, right now, Tallyho, knew what to do. He ushered her out of the room, a half-hearted promise of fixing Tallyho's make-up and re-bandaging his hand murmured towards Mildred as they hurried past. He didn't stop outside the doors, however- no, he pulled her into the building's depths, past this hallway here, down that corridor there until they were in a small, enclosed room, just as grand as the rest and, most likely thank not, used purely as decoration as opposed to a real function. He never let go, even as he led her to a well-placed chaise-lounge and sat down beside her.

He didn't ask her what was wrong- their relationship had never been like that. Problems were given on a voluntary basis with only concerned gestures and eyes allowed as prompts. The uninjured hand was rubbing gentle circles on her back.

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

It is to be noted that, despite everything that had just happened, no one else really knew what was going on. Princess Morgan continued to play with Karma and Mori (who both decided to humor her in return), dignitaries remained indignant and far less dignified with a little alcohol in them, and the Guardians, well... The Guardians were left out of the loop and it was driving Ryou up the wall.

He stood near the back wall, sipping his wine instead of gulping because, yes, he did quite like the idea of alcohol right now, but it was also rose wine and he was about as sick of anything rose-themed as a particularly grumpy child was sick of Mickey Mouse after staying at Disney World for a week. He'd seen the mixed emotions bogging down the month warriors during the ceremony, had caught sight of Mildred looking murderous, and had even caught a glimpse of Haru's furious face some time ago before all of the month warriors had vanished to parts unknown.

Another sip. The taste was like the essence of a dozen rose-themed perfumes, but the alcohol provided a sharp aftertaste.

Not that he ever really knew what was going on anymore. He, and, really, the rest of the Guardians had once been part of a team, one leader-like person but eleven generals to provide advice and assistance at all times. Now, after they'd left the Academy, it was the Haru show with the rest of the Guardians retreating until they were personal cheerleaders for their warriors and occasionally dabbled in slapping metaphorical bandages onto the emotional, mental, and physical wounds of the other warriors. That would have been obnoxious all on its own if Haru was actually handling it well. But he wasn't. He looked like death warmed over, like the weight of the world that he'd placed on his shoulders was about to break him into a thousand pieces. And yet...

Another sip. God, this was awful. The situation and the wine.

And yet he refused to ask for help and kept the burden on himself. That wasn't fine per say, but it felt like he was resenting them for it. It was like he hadn't realized that he'd created a self-fulfilling prophecy of martyrdom, shrugging off any attempts to get involved. It was something that Ryou had grown to hate about Haru, but at the same time lo...

"Cat got your tongue?" A sudden voice amidst the crowd caused him to nearly jump, eyes darting towards the interloper with the unmistakable rasp.

"I...What?"

"Cat got your tongue. That's an expression you people use, yeah?" It was Dae, today dressed in a plain but well made forest green outfit. Anonymity might mean no recognition, but the knight seemed to revel in choosing their outfit of the day without any minding the shift.

"Yes, yes," Ryou bobbed his head, sipped his wine, grimaced, and noticed something quite odd. "Where's Liam?"

"Back in the rooms," Dae replied, plucking the glass of what was basically pink-colored flower juice from his hand and taking a sniff. She sneezed and Ryou failed to fight the smile that wormed its way onto his face when she hastily dumped the contents into a nearby potted plant. "Did you a favor there."

"That you did. But that still doesn't explain why he's not here."

"Said he didn't want to go if I wouldn't dance with him. Can't really help that they gave me a men's outfit, can I? Didn't want to cause a stir," Dae shrugged. "He's okay now. We talked it out and everything. Wants me to steal him something sweet."

It had always amazed Ryou that two of the most bizarre students that he'd ever taken on in his time as a teacher ended up being the healthiest couples that he'd ever seen. Who would have thought that a dark-magic obsessed sociopath and a gender-fluid fighter from one of the more mysterious tribes would do what so many so-called "normal" people could not?

"Saw Haru going out to the balcony in a hurry. Did you ever figure out what happened?"

"No." Ryou said and for a moment hesitated. No, no it had to be done. If the Month Warriors were going to cause an international incident tonight, he had to know why. "But I will soon. Excuse me." With that he left the knight who had already helped themselves to what may or may not have been non-alchoholic cider (with a hint of rose) and marched towards the balcony.

It was easy to find, extremely so even with all of the people meandering around discussing irrelevant and most likely obnoxious things. Now, he thought with liquid courage running hot in his veins, was the time to speak up, to ask, to... to... the line of thought was lost because Haru wasn't alone. No, Haru was with someone very, painfully familiar. He'd know that face anywhere, that voice, those eyes. The man who'd let his Academy burn to the ground, who'd murdered his students in cold blood, who'd ruined the only home some had ever known to get to the Month Warriors. And here he was, chatting up Haru and if Ryou had heard correctly, offering to save him. To save him, Haru.

It took him a split second to decide what to do.

He slid back inside, out of sight and perhaps out of mind, pressed up against the wall like there was a physical force keeping him in place. He wanted to wring the man's neck, to break every bone one by one until he begged for death. To watch him burn, burn until there were nothing but a pathetic pile of ashes left. But he would not because Haru... Because Haru was talking to him and as much as Ryou hated himself for it, even if Haru stabbed him in the chest or let the slurs fly, Ryou would follow him to Hell if he so wished it. He was a fool, but a fool for things that did not involve attempting to murder someone who could be used. But he wouldn't go too far, no, no. He would stay like a loyal lap dog turned guard dog, vigilant and waiting for their master's command.

ignore.

It didn't take long for Kyle to realize that Tallyho wasn't really hearing him, and he sighed. As soon as she saw the plate, she attacked it like a starving animal, even though it was perfectly clear none of these supposed to be month warriors were starving. Tallyho may be the only one who actually knew what it felt like to be starving. Maybe Gwen too. He paused remembering the Asian girl's sickly coloring when he first saw her. She filled out somewhat in the last three years, but whatever situation she had before stunted her growth.

Tallyho ran back to the ballroom and collapsed in Dorian’s arms, tears streaked her face, while Kyle lingered in the hallway, only watching the party scene. He still wasn’t ready to be part of it. Besides, he couldn’t clean up his mess out there anyway. Those people didn’t recognize them as human beings, and any sign of human weakness would most likely send them back to the dungeons.

Kyle’s stomach clenched and he pressed his back against the wall, to still his own shaking. No, he can’t go in there. He can’t! Why are these clothes so damn tight!? He pulled off his cravat tie completely and started unbuttoning the vest. Maybe there was something to Harper’s random tearing off his clothes. Harper, stupid Harper! Not Harper. Kyle was the stupid one this time.

He pulled himself down to the floor in his shame. When he caught a glimpse of two people leaving the room, he returned to his feet. Dorian and Tallyho! Well, he actually could do something without the rich snobs noticing, and he followed them to an empty room. Tallyho was still crying, and Dorian led her to a seat to calm down. The situation made him feel guilty again. Tallyho was crying and from what Haru said about her, she probably didn’t like people to see her cry. She trusted Dorian but not him. Maybe he should turn back. Are you running away again, Kyle Keaton?

He froze where he was, and broke the silence. "I'm sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck and balled up the tie in his other hand. "I'm sorry you got hurt." He stared at the bandage on Dorian's free hand. "I'm sorry for starting a stupid fight and not listening to cooler heads than mine, and..." He swallowed the rest of his sentence, fearing the place his thoughts took him. Eventually, he finished with, "Thank you for everything."

Even though he wasn't sure if Tallyho would notice, he turned his head and spoke to her."I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you." He didn't think anything he said after Haru ripped the bandages off old wounds -Kyle flinched at the thought- could be interpreted as mean, but it would definitely be inconsiderate to ignore her presence. These tears could very well be a delayed reaction to opening her old wounds.

~~~
Ryou wasn’t the only one who noticed the emotional turmoil on stage and ticked off Haru. At least two people involved never came back to the party. Even though these parties also started feeling like nuisances to her, this one was the one they were waiting for, official recognition of the month warriors. The last time they did this, it was a lot simpler though.

This room was too stuffy with all the bodies inside, and she could probably guess where Kyle went. He always went to the garden when upset, but he may still be with Haru who also never came back. The party atmosphere probably didn’t suit the cat-guardian in his present mood, and she couldn’t blame him either. Sometimes it surprised her that one boy could get into as much trouble, by himself, as three of the boys from her ship. Her ship. Nikita swallowed. The longer she was shoreside, the more she longed for her ship again. Freedom on the Airian seas had become her haven, since… She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for that! She had to find Kyle and Haru!

The two backstage rooms were empty, and both showed signs of some manner of disaster. What trouble had he gotten into? Was the blood on that knife his, or someone else’s? Would he actually…?! No! He wouldn’t! This was Kyle she was thinking about. He fought with his fists and his bow, not knives. Calm, Calm, Calm. Deep breaths. Most likely just an accident. Someone cut themselves by accident while cutting the food. That’s all it is.

Forcibly convincing herself that the situation wasn't as bad as it appeared, she left the backrooms, and headed towards the gardens. The small sailor woman took a deep breath of cool evening air. Yes, this is where he'd be if anywhere. A single breath out in the open already refreshed her. Apparently Kyle wasn't the only one who wanted to take advantage of open space. Lillian was also out here, and two dark-haired boys hid in a corner, but she could only clearly see one of them from where she stood. The identity of that one was enough for her to identify who the second must be. Those two. You'd think they were attached at the hip. Good friendships are fine, but if it's at the expense of all other relationships it's a serious problem. Nikita was tempted to go tell them so, but Lillian was closer, and she caught sight of something unpleasant. Ryou also seemed to be hiding from something, and that was definitely not him. She approached the March Guardian and asked, "What's the matter?"

Harper had wanted to be alone. To be invisible. To disappear. Yet it was evident that he couldn't even accomplish that.

Typical.

He had ignored the advice of Lillian, surprised she had even spoken to him. In the three years he'd seen her, he'd only ever referred to her as Galadriel to Skylar, and it wasn't like that was a commn occurence either.

But Xabi he couldn't ignore. He stiffened at his voice, briefly wondering if he should run away, but when the Spaniard's fingers tangled into his hair, his shoulders dropped, and his breath heaved out audibly. Tears pricked at his eyes again. No. No no no. No more crying. He'd done enough of that.

But his tear ducts ignored him, and he could feel the wet trails rolling down again. His hands moved from his hair to his face, covering it. The bandage scratched at his skin like sandpaper, and images of chisels and wood lit up behind his eyelids. He could almost smell the shavings.

"Is it really though?" Harper heard himself ask, voice muffled behind his palms. With a sigh he pulled his hands away, finding Xabi's, trembling when they circled around his slender fingers, as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch or not. "I've been fucking up so badly. For three years I've been fucking everything up without even knowing it. And now I've fucked up even more shit and just..."

He took a breath. His last word rang in the air, echoing in his mind. High. Desperate. Rushed. Just like his breathing, he realized.

He wanted to stop talking. Wanted to just shut up. Believe Xabi for a moment, that it really was going to be all right. Or at least pretend that it would be. That was all he really did anyways. Pretend. Life was a stage after all, right? Just pretend.

But he couldn't. Not anymore. Words continued to roll out. "They hate me," Harper continued to choke out, "They fucking hate me, Xabi. Most of them anyways. They've hated me for years, and I can't say I blame them. But now I have to play nice, but how the hell am I supposed to do that? Even if I try, they'll probably just think I'm some fake fucking phony and hate me even more. I could...I could be the most genuinely nicest person I can be, and they'd fucking think I was doing it for the attention. They think I'm some goddamn attention whore. What am I supposed to do then? Disappear? Not do anything?"

He sniffed hard, angrily wiping tears from his face in frustration. "I'm so fucked, Xabi," he snapped, "I'm so fucked and I'm so sorry you have to deal with me, the fuck up that is Harper Calloway Fields!"

He paused, heavy, wet breathing filling the air. His eyes continued to sting and water. "You shouldn't..." his voice cracked, softer, threatening to break completely. He swallowed and tried again, "You shouldn't have to deal with this..."

Xabier sat quietly listening to Harper pouring his heart out, moving his hands away from him when necessary.

"They fucking hate me, Xabi. Most of them anyways. They've hated me for years, and I can't say I blame them. But now I have to play nice, but how the hell am I supposed to do that? Even if I try, they'll probably just think I'm some fake fucking phony and hate me even more. I could...I could be the most genuinely nicest person I can be, and they'd fucking think I was doing it for the attention. They think I'm some goddamn attention whore. What am I supposed to do then? Disappear? Not do anything?"
The sadness emanating from Harper was almost unbearable. It shouldn't be this way, he thought, it should be the two of us laughing about something stupid.
"You shouldn't have to deal with this..."
Xabier leaned in slowly and interrupted him, the shadows covering their faces from prying eyes.

"Harper, babe..." He murmured pulling away slightly. "I'm sorry that you feel that way. I'm so sorry."
Watching someone he cared about crying always left him like stone, frozen and stoic.
Harper was a mess, all teary and static. The way he had been increasingly sad and erratic lately and Xabier hadn't noticed/put it together. He had been too obsessed with himself.
The night was a deep navy and the shadows subtly twisted around him. Things were changing, he could feel it in the air. But whether it was for the best he wasn't sure.

"You're not a fuck up, you are considerate and funny and I never feel lonely when you're around. So don't think that way... And if they don't see you for who you are, then they aren't worth hurting over..."
He sensed that this wasn't a good enough solution though. It was easier said than done. Xabier understood that already.
Harper was trying his best to cover his wet face with his hands. He didn't need to, Xabi wouldn't hurt him.
"It's okay, cry as much as you need."
He pulled him gently into a hug letting him rest there.
He read somewhere that crying isn't necessarily about only sadness, it also signifies that a person is alive. And he was so relieved to see Harper alive. He interlocked their fingers together.
"Trust me, it's going to be alright. So you can cry. We'll deal with everything else tomorrow."

He looked about and noticed the several Guardians about the place.... Something was wrong. Well, apart from the obvious. But it was probably best not to get involved. There was enough upset for tonight and Xabier just wanted to make sure that Harper wasn't left alone tonight. Whatever was going on he'd have to leave to the Guardians to sort out by themselves, even though he barely trusted any of them.
He felt the urge to leave this place. Something really wasn't sitting well and he didn't know why.

"Do you think you'd be able to go back inside?" His eyes widening in realisation of how that sounded, so heartless. He squeezed the other guy's hand lightly, feeling suddenly hesitant. "I..I mean like stay with me.... because I hate being alone...."
Translation: he didn't want Harper alone and he wouldn't be able to sleep thinking about a possible second attempt anyway.
Also he wanted some privacy.

He waited patiently and looked everywhere but Harper, purposely avoiding looking at the wound.

[EDITED 07/09/15]

The ballroom of Ve Marie's castle was one of the most beautiful places they had ever been in. Certainly Mildred's decorating skills had not put to shame the rocky grotto of fine, shining marble, but had enhanced the natural beauty of the stonework with the graceful streams of delicate ribbons, the addition of excessive amounts of the freshest cut flowers, and candles and lamps casting luminous color over tables and the ballroom floor alike, and the colors constantly, slowly seemed to shift and changed from hue to hue. Soft, instrumental music supported the welcoming, celebratory atmosphere, drifting through the crowd with no evident source.

And... Falke couldn't bring himself to enjoy it much at all. Not to sound cliche, of course. As he knew that most of the group wasn't thrilled with the amount of attention they were gathering, or keeping the faces and situation awareness (by a thread, if that at times, from a few certain individuals) they needed to uphold in front of highly important public figures to keep their heads attached to their necks, literally and figuratively as it were. Nor did it help that almost half of the month warriors had vanished from the ballroom proper, leaving the few still left (which included himself) with double or triple the attention to receive and react with.

He'd long since lost any sense of Autumn (or the others, for that matter) after they'd split in the crowd. However, Autumn's occasional power created cold-spots could be accidentally wandered through-out the ballroom floor, leaving him in the mix of all the sheer mental pressure of the swirling crowd having an uncomfortable shiver up his spine and the distasteful remembrance of the constant hissing indeterminable voices surrounding the other warrior's mental aura. It left him weary to even attempt to connect to her again, just to have someone more familiar to talk with, if only briefly. Even though a respite as it would be, especially over the static, white noise rattling around his noggin, being in such a cramped environment of mental activity, Falke doubted she would ever hear his minor, chipped complaints of her ghostly 'baggage' leaving too many cold-spots around. Seriously, though... Couldn't they give her, or anyone for that matter, a rest, for the night?

It was then to his genuine surprise, if not relief per say, to run into a trio of people he really /knew/ - Princess Morgan, Mori, and Karma. His entire sense of Morgan was filled with brimming excitement and mirth that he'd felt in her since... Falke drew in a sharp breath. Since the start of this week. Crows. It had already felt like ages since the battle of the flock, another near week of separation as they healed and political arrangements had been made, and then being forced into the show-and-tell poster child game of this parade, or mass, or that party or this celebration for another almost week after that. They hadn't known the Princess very long, but as far as he could reckon, she'd always been brimming excitement and mirth over something, no matter how small. Mori and Karma, however had their own interesting ups and downs that were more relatable to a common childish mischief, and had been busily indulging the Princess with their presence and company.

A thin genuine smile rested easily on his lips, as Falke dipped his head slightly in greeting, musing softly, "Good evening."

---

Lillian did not seem to mind that Harper had ignored her advice. Or, for that matter, she had not even pretended to notice the appearance of Xabier as if on cue. Nor was her feather's ruffled that both boy's readily ignored her nearby presence in the wake of emotional and physical turmoil with - louder than whispers, half-sobbed, and mild attempts of comforting - conversation. She remained silent, watchful, and pensive at the window overlooking the dusky lit sky. Looking as she always did - distant, golden, and difficult to read. She had the fair, paled honey skin characteristic of the folk of the People's caravan, and her curly, thick hair was a deep shade of gold (tied in an delicate up-do for the moment), giving her, in stillness, the appearance of a statue, some work dedicated to a huntress figure, lean and intense and dangerous. This, however, was only part of the September guardian's personality. As her true beauty could best be seen in motion, as she walked or flew. And the rest of her personality was well polished and hidden on a high shelf, or well, more or less...

Nikita's quick appearance out one of the nearby ballroom door's, in a great movement of rustling cloth, brought the attention of a watchful peripheral glance, and the chance of the beginnings of a perched lip upon Lillian's own thin mouth. The poor dame, rushing about, likely looking for her young'ling Kyle or the annoyed Haru, needed to take a breather sometimes. Things happened, it would be best to wait for a calmer time to get information. Not everyone needed to bear the headache, or heart-attack, if it was already, mostly, properly managed. Too many hands, would be pointless... She did not need to be worried, however, as Nikita's attention seemed to have caught something else further down the passageway, towards the balcony, in deeper shadows and off-placed torches. With a slow blink, Lillian returned to her peaceful gazing.

It was not much longer until another disturbance of the door, caught her reluctant attention, this time being yet another Guardian (apparently the ceremony party-goers, and hopefully most of the warriors, except the two nearby obviously; where still 'enjoying' themselves in the ball-room proper) wandered drearily away from the festivities. This time it was Kit, who had been for the most part rather obnoxiously cheery lately due to apparently being "home", and was looking more like, well himself, his regular self she'd come to know in oh, the One be bothered, far longer than any of them had hoped. Tired, grumpy, and potentially drunkenly depressed of course. This seemed the proper time to garner more than the glance of an eye or pursed lip.

"Love," Lilian sighed; softly but sharply enough to be heard, or listened to at the very least one could hope. Tossing her head like a indignant horse, a good natured, but coyish eye-roll, as she half-turned her body towards the red-head walking almost dejectedly towards her. She continued with a snort, "You look like you're about to fall over..."

“Do what you want.”

The words were a welcome invitation.

“If you say so.” She replied, almost as if she was pleased with his response. Maybe, in a way, she was. Though she was grateful that Falke had said something, she feared it would only make things worse. So far, talking hadn't helped anyone.

Unfortunately, things went just as predicted. Xabier left and Dorian spoke too much like Trent for Autumn's comfort. Before she could question it, though, Tallyho flung herself into his arms. Autumn would have to ask Dorian about his new speech quirk later. Eventually, she and Falke were the only ones left in the room. Following the plan from earlier, though it didn't really serve a purpose now, Autumn took right.

She quickly found that the crowd wasn't nearly as interested as her as they were the possibility of drama. It was only the natural response, she supposed. Thankfully, though, her offers of ghostly party tricks was enough to keep them at bay. While some of the spirits begrudgingly moved objects and created cold spots for the guests to feel, Autumn instructed the others to look over the party. Every inch of it had at least one spirit seeing what was going on and another to report back to her. The chill was greatest outside, where Xabier and Falke had run off to.

Kit wrinkled his nose at the sudden spots of cold air. It was most likely Autumn's work, though he had no idea why she would bother. Nor did he care at the moment. He had socialized more in the past week than he had in an entire year before that. To put it mildly, he was exhausted.

He stopped at the sound of a voice, not particularly eager to talk with another guest, only to realize it was Lillian speaking. At that moment, her voice sounded like that of an angel. An angel of sweet relief from acting proper and civilized. Stuffy as he was, even he got tired of it from time to time. There was no need to act like the rest of the crowd among another guardian. They already knew he could be less than civil.

“Yes, well, I certainly feel like I’m about to fall over. Considering how hard this wave of depression hit, it's a miracle I’m still standing.” He replied sleepily as he walked over to Lillian. His eyes darted to the side, as they often did, catching a glimpse of the two warriors huddled together.

“At least they seem to be having fun.” Kit said sarcastically, though not without a hint of empathy.

“Seems everything turns to ruin so quickly these days, huh? For every accomplishment there must be a hundred steps back.”

Haru wasn’t sure how to respond to the prospect of “being saved” by an overpowered arsonist—to sharing a drink with a man who nearly killed his charges and destroyed the livelihood of his best friend. And for every stroke of ease that oozed from Amber’s gestures: The gesture to a seat, the casual pouring of the drink, Haru responded with rigidity, tension and apprehension.
“It’s not just you, you know,” Amber said clearly through the rim of his glass. Haru could tell that, in some life, Amber was an actor. Or at the very least had the makings of an actor. It was in his poise, the diction of the way he spoke, the fact that he was convincing enough to make Haru give him the time of day.
“You and your warriors—you don’t know what you’re fighting for. If you continue this path you will undoubtedly be crushed. And I can’t guarantee me and my people will be the culprits.”
“Elaborate?”
“I cannot go into further detail. I’m bound.”
“And how am I supposed to take your word?”
“By just taking it,” Amber paused, swishing the alcohol in his glass once more. “If I didn’t want to give you fair warning we would have eliminated your people a long time ago. I’m not telling you anything else.”
Haru frowned. This was a rare opportunity to press Amber for vital information. He downed his first shot and set it on the table next to its mother bottle.
“I’m sure you aren’t bound from a bit of fun. How about a game?”
“A game?”
“Yes. Let’s see who can chug the most whiskey… For a bet. If you win the month warriors will surrender themselves to whatever cause your group is fighting for. If I win I get more information.”
“Haru Karokav… That’s irresponsible,” Amber said unflinchingly.
Haru knew. And he also knew it was irresponsible to make bets he wouldn’t be following up on. But with everything that happened tonight, the guardian was willing to turn every rock in a forest of troubles just to find something of value.
“Are you going to do this or not?” Haru asked.
Amber simmered in the moment for a while before he picked up the bottle and eyed its label—it was a particularly strong and heavy liquor straight from the Isles. And without hesitation the fire man threw his head back and let the burning liquid fall down his throat for a decent amount of time before it welled up and Amber flinched forward trying the keep the liquid from exiting through his nose.
Haru eyed the bottle. Amber drank a significant amount, almost half, of the strong brew. And both men knew that if Haru fared any chance at winning the bet he was going to have to finish the bottle. And so he did. And moments later his small body was consumed and he was struggling to stay awake. Wavering and recalling questions he’d pondered about Amber for months. His questions were more cohesive in the beginning—but of course as time went on he became more incoherent:
“Your group has supernatural abilities beyond basic magic. Abilities that are comparable to those of the month warriors….”
“We orphans—we have a lot more in common with you warriors than you think.”
“Orphans…” Haru said pensively.
Amber looked up, a look of surprise briefly flashing across his face. “Did I not introduce us as such the night of the fire? Perhaps you were too shaken to pay that much attention.”
Haru grunted, “What do you orphans want, anyway?”
“To preserve the Aires we know today—”
“Full of cyclopean? Are you works of oblivion?”
“I cannot answer that, I’m bound.”
“Are you enemies of the Goddess?”
“I cannot answer.”
Haru was beginning to feel like he wasn’t going to get anything else from this fiery tormentor.
“I cannot tell you these things. But I can tell you where to find the answers. Listen carefully and consider this my last olive branch…”
Haru leaned forward. Trying his best to focus in his drunken stupor. This was it. This is what he was waiting for.
It was so much information crunched into so little word. Haru was overtaken by his thoughts as Amber described a giant crack in the ground and a dreamscape. A glowing book of truth at the core of the planet—an alternate reality full of the most cursed Arian horrors and Arian apocrypha.
“Just remember. You knowledge of this book alone will not keep us away. Our ultimate goal is to eliminate the month warriors and I will give you no head starts. From this day on we will be active in our attempts. And it would be in your best interest to find the truth and make sure your warriors use the truth wisely before we find them first. Only then can we exist in harmony.”
And Amber was done speaking. When Haru looked over he was met with a mound of ashes.
He grunted once more and his head lulled back as he fell into a drunken slumber, destined for a hangover.
There was no denying the crying and Tallyho had to own it as best she could. Dorian’s presence helped. He rubbed familiar circles on her back and Tallyho was reminded that she’d often considered Dorian…a circular kind of person. Circles were stable and smoothed. Filled with an essence of calmness.
But the Tallyho who truly knew Dorian knew that this wasn’t the case. Much of the group saw Dorian as a communal rock when he was really as fragile as anyone else could be. Tallyho then felt guilty being so emotional at that moment when Dorian had been in the fray of it too. And much of the fray was because of her.
Tallyho pulled back and reached for Dorian’s injured hand gently squeezing his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She wanted to cosign that apology from so many others—including Harper—but she was well aware that she could only speak for herself.
Looking at Dorian, Tallyho felt a lump in her throat that had never quite settled before. She studied his features more carefully than she had before—he was handsome both physically and in his demeanor. A day before she would have stared at Dorian for 10 straight minutes without a flinch—without thinking much of it at all (and even making fun of him)— but now she felt herself passing more discrete glances in quick and quiet pulses, hiding behind a flush of rose.
She didn’t think that her first experience feeling for another human in this way would be so matter-of-fact, curt and blunt. The girls in her caravan handled their crushes with carefree giddiness. They saw someone they barely knew but thought was cute and exhausted what little feeling they really had for the boy in a week-long burst of obsession before allowing his memory to fade into the obscurity of their childhoods.
Tallyho didn’t argue with herself as to whether or not she felt affection for Dorian. In that moment she recognized this and owned it.
And she figured she would have been able to say it—that’s how straightforward their friendship was, after all—But for some reason she couldn’t dig the words from the pit of her voice box. So she sat staring at him, gripping his hand in a daze of stupor. A seizure, in her opinion, would have been a better placeholder.
And then Kyle came in. Tallyho still had tears in her eyes but she didn’t wipe them. Kyle seemed to be particularly concerned about offending Tallyho and this was extremely apparent. There was no point in Tallyho being so guarded with situation—the blonde had already offered a part of herself to Dorian so there were no excuses for withholding herself from an innocent perosn trying to offer friendship.
“Kyle… You’re fine,” she said as she extended her hand with a firm handshake in mind.
Morgan was having a grand time at the party and she owed the night to Mori and Karma. Though Karma was defiant when it came to learning how to waltz like a proper lady, she still appreciated the company and found Karma’s quips witty and humorous. After a while she gave up trying to teach the kids to dance and led the way to a table of fantastic horderves and sweets.
They were soon approached by Falke who seemed to Morgan like a very kind man. The first few times seeing him after they first met threw her for a loop because she wasn’t sure if he was truly blind of not. He seemed to move freely and she didn’t want to assume.
“Hello Falke, how are you? Would you like to dance?” She chirped, voice shaking with energy.

Xabi's words fell on him like rain, but Harper was an umbrella. As much as he wanted to let them soak in, the drops rolled off.

He planted his face in Xabi's shoulders, but despite the encouragement to cry, Harper's tears were few. He could feel himself emptying out. Shelling. The sounds of merriment behind them faded out, and all he focused on was the sound of his breathing. Easy. His brain latched onto it, all his mental energy concentrating on smoothing out his exhales and inhales, rubbing out the bumps.

Slowly, other feelings entered. The wind on the back of his neck. The throbbing in his wrist. A dull pain behind his eyes. Xabi's shoulder bone hard against his forehead. Sweat rolling down his hands. How tight his belt really was. The fabric of his pants, which really were high-quality. He'd liked his first outfit better though. A shame he had ruined it.

The event seemed so long ago...a blurry picture at the end of an unfocused telescope. Yet...simultaneously it felt like it had just happened. Just a clashing of everything. Time was meaningless anyways. Reality an illusion. What even was real.

Maybe he had died. Maybe he had died three years ago, and this was the shitty afterlife. It definitely wasn't a new thought. And the more he considered it, the more it made sense.

Dante he thought to himself I am Dante. Paradise fucking found.

For whatever reason, he found the thought funny. Not rip-roaring hilarious, but almost an instinctual, hollow funny. Cold and empty. Desperate. A smile spread on his face, and he snorted through his nose, hoping that Xabi would mistake it for something else.

Hoping that Beatrice would mistake it for something else.

He sat up when Xabi suggested going inside, smile sliding off. He nodded. "Sure," he said, voice still weird, and he stood up, breathing deep. He glanced back at the dance hall. Sniffed hard. Watery eyes narrowing slightly, but no tears threatening.

So...was this hell? Or purgatory? Was he traveling upwards, or down? Or both?

9th circle he decided. He didn't remember what was in the 9th circle, but it seemed to make the most sense. After what he'd just been through, the only way had to be up, right?

After a few more seconds, he looked back at Xabi, holding out a hand and trying a hand. "After you, my dear."

”Yes, well, I certainly feel like I’m about to fall over. Considering how hard this wave of depression hit, it’s a miracle I’m still standing… At least they seem to be having fun… Seems everything turns to ruin so quickly these days, huh? For every accomplishment there must be a hundred steps back…”

Lillian eyed him cautiously as he sleepily drew nearer, making snarky, after snarkier remarks as he went - watching in the corners Xabier and Harper making amends of sorts, she could only assume. When he finally came to stand beside her, she softly rolled her eyes, as a light sigh whistled through her teeth, and she turned her head to look at the star speckled sky above with a faint air of wistfulness. This was hardly her forte… “Oh, Kit…” She hummed, pausing, glancing up at him with a callous snort. As she eased her weight back on her heels, the top of her head brushed the tips of his sharp, angular shoulders, as she leaned close against the other guardian. “Just shut up, and hold me…”

It was not a gesture of intended comfort or intent, and she did not intended it to be so. Or rather, Lillian would never admit it, despite how she could read people (and a person she’d known for ages now with his depression and tendencies). The gesture was merely for the companionship of quiet, shut-up and hold her, and that was that. If asked why, as the November warrior could guess as he knew her well enough, she’d likely merely blame it on his warrior’s silly obsession with having her ghost’s watching everything going on and leaving blasted cold-spots around.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”Hello Falke, how are you? Would you like to dance?”

Falke could feel the infectious excitement radiating from her mind, and most obviously her shaking voice. However, it wasn’t infectious enough for him, and his conscience of the situation (and his own, for that matter) at hand. “I am well,” He mused, pausing. Noting that in the presence of really the ‘hostess’ of the country that was holding all these parties and parades and ceremony in the month warriors honor, the attention or random strangers walking up to talk to him had faded significantly – at least the hordes seemed to respect something! It was hard not to let the glimmer of relief rest on his face, and to be honest he did not really try. He continued, lightly, almost apologetically, “I’m afraid I shouldn’t, I’d only trip over my own feet.” Falke loved to dance, really. From learning the waltz balancing on his mother’s toes, or from the recent adventures of Tallyho dragging him and his bummed leg around in elegantly silly, swirling dances of her culture, singing the new words but old songs Lillian had given her. But now, was not the time nor the place, and frankly if he tried to extend his powers to ‘see’ his surrounds enough to try and dance – his head would probably explode, especially after that earlier fiasco. “It’s the eyes, always a bother at parties or dances, sorry…”

Morgan did something that would probably seem completely intrusive, both physically and verbally. She didn’t seem the least bit offended that Falke declined her invitation to dance, in fact she maintained her demeanor as if he’d said nothing at all.

She stepped closer, almost looking as if she was going to force her waltz upon him anyway. She raised her arms in unison and kept on until her hands, cupped and curved, glowing like twin moons were in his face. Displacing any such obstacles like hair, she placed her hands on his eyes, careful not the jab him but gently brushed his lashes downward.

“How blind are you?”

On a New York street this might have been a brash insult. But Morgan’s voice fluttered with curiosity.

-------------------------

It had been almost a week since Haru’s encounter with Amber and he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten to his bed that night.
After the drinking contest Haru completely blacked out. All he remembered was slumping in his chair and watching the blurred motions of the party. His fingers were splayed sloppily across his mouth, calloused pads gently pushing his upper lip toward his nose. The way his gums were exposed gave him a bit of a sneer.

And the next morning he just woke up in his room. Dressed only in his pants and dress socks—his blouse and coat hung and folded near his stationary desk. He did not go down to breakfast that morning. Instead, he spent the day staring at the sun-lit wall and trying to recall Amber’s message.

Haru wasn’t sure he could handle this situation without letting everyone else know. But he was especially sure that he had to handle it without any members of the court finding out. Because of the terms pushed by the council, the warriors couldn’t do much of anything alone.

The terms—they were complicated. Haru wasn’t opposed to extra help regarding cyclopean, or even the orphans. He was just fine with getting the word out to the public in order to guarantee the group warm places to sleep while out on the road when they made their final trek to fight Oblivion. But regarding matters so… supernatural… he wasn’t sure if he could allow ordinary people to get too involved.

The terms—Goddess he forgot to tell them didn’t he?

And here Haru was, nearly a week later, attempting to address these complicated issues with the group. He had to approach them tactfully—everyone was so prone to getting upset these days. He finally resolved that the best place for him to start was with the guardians.

He spent the earlier hours of the day making his rounds around the estate. Knocking on the doors of guardians and asking them to meet him during the lunch hour. He even went searching for Princess Morgan (an early bird who was out in the garden rather than her bed) to ask her about reserving a meeting place that afforded a comfortable amount of privacy. As expected, she happily obliged.

Haru always preferred to arrive early for tense meetings. If he could help it he would go to meetings an hour early and let himself get comfortable with the environment. This is exactly what he did in that cramped conference room with its shiny wooden table and antique cushioned chairs.

He greeted guardians as they came in, and apologized if he disturbed their sleep. When everyone was settled Haru stood up and stretched toward the window, reaching to pull the curtains shut.

“I have some problematic news,” he began. Haru was a big fan of just spitting it out when it came to the guardians and tried to keep introductory rambles as short as possible.

“Amber came to the ceremony and he was very straight-forward when he said he wouldn’t hold back on us. Yet he was very ambiguous about what he and his group stands for. I’m beginning to sense that they are the work of a third party—not Oblivion. And this is particularly concerning because members of his group seem to mirror the warriors in supernatural ability. He also spoke feverishly of a book down in the “Great Escape.” I’m wasn’t too familiar with the concept so a few days ago I tried to refer to the estate library. But the few books featuring segments on it were very limited. Most of them dismissed it as a myth or folk legend over in Ira—I large crack in the ground leading to some hellish dimension. I’m not even sure the crack in the ground is supposed to be a physical, geographic anomaly or a state of mind… Nonetheless he spoke very much of “a book of truth” that could be found there. And that this book is essential to our survival. I’m truly conflicted—I don’t know if it’s a trap or not. If it’s a battle for us to fight or a whole new can of worms to open... And even if we were to pursue this book, we have a bit of an issue with the government. Back some time ago I went to discuss the terms of our recognition with the king, elders, warlords and whatnot, and we got everything I was hoping for as far as shelter and civilian assistance. But there were a few sacrifices. We are technically bound to bring representatives of the RK with us if we go off on any campaigns. This was more than likely a hook for the RK to ensure power upon the salvation of Aires… And I agreed to it, not really expecting us to do much moving after moving here. We are also asked to periodically attend RK campaigns. However, I’m more concerned about the former…If we go after this book I don’t want the government to have a stake in it.”

Kyle gave a weary smile when Tallyho reached out to him. That was all he wanted. He didn't expect to be best friends right away, if at all. He attempted to wipe his sweaty palms with the similarly sweaty cravat tie and stuffed it in a pocket. Then he too moved toward her. For a time he debated whether to kiss her hand like he did with Dae or shake it. Eventually he wiped his sweaty hands again and shook hers. She might not be comfortable with a more intimate gesture, and there was also Dorian to consider. The April warrior knew he could be no threat to a relationship between two of his teachers, and they also knew his weaknesses. His peers, they were a different story. Besides, he didn't want to give Dorian a reason to be upset with him, especially after all the mess he already submitted him to. "Thank you."

After the announcement party, they finally seemed to have a reprieve, and Kyle took full advantage of it. He set himself personal goals to resolve all the issues he caused during the fiasco, but he doubted his success in meeting those goals. The group seemed more splintered than before and weird things were happening that spooked him, but he refused to give up. One of his few virtues, determination.

That determination also helped him in other ways. He found multiple exits to the palace and escaped all the fake people for hours at a time, either in the city proper or the garden. The garden was an excellent forum for him to strengthen his skills, and actually interact with 'real' people. People that didn't pretend to like you because you were famous. Truthfully, he hated being famous.

Nikita discovered the problem soon enough when she found Haru passed out drunk. She knew he had a smoking problem, but she didn't remember a drinking problem. Biting her lip, she realized that perhaps the recent pressure pushed him to drink. She called for assistance to carry him to his room, because she was both shorter and lighter than Haru, and knew she couldn't hold him on her own.

A week later, the man himself knocked on her door and asked her to come to a meeting during lunch. Hastened by both concern for his health and curiosity, she was happy to oblige. She prepared for the meeting as much as possible, well before the appointed time. When she heard the message, she forced herself to hold her tongue. She wasn't Haru's mother to harangue him about the stupidity of going in front of government agents and enemies by himself, but it did validate her concern for his health.

"The problem is, I don't think we can trust either of these parties we're now tangled up in. Amber and his supernatural warriors destroyed the Academy, yet didn't physically harm our warriors when they were weak and logically would be in his best interest." She grimaced against how cold she sounded. "And the government agents here pretty much tied our hands with their demands of accompaniment. If anything happens to the accompanying party, we'll get the blame, and end up back in the dungeon." She shuddered at the word. "Honestly, I think it's in OUR best interest to target Amber directly, not even this book whether it exists or not. Chasing the book should draw the threat away from major cities and reduce civilian casualties at least. That doesn't resolve the issue of nosy government officials though." Crossing her arms over her chest, she dropped her head and frowned. It sounded like they were damned if they do, damned if they don't.

Kit wasn't really looking for comfort. He only needed to look at Autumn for her to worry about him. No, he was just complaining as he was prone to do. It helped ease the pain in ways hugs and kind words couldn't.

He let out a soft chuckle and complied, gazing up at the stars with tired eyes. This was nice too, he thought. It sure beat just complaining.

The passing week left the guardian feeling better. He could often be found wandering and simply admiring the art around him. If not looking at the plaza and it's beauty and history, he was talking to someone. Princess Morgan was always fun to talk to, and Kit enjoyed chatting with Lillian. It almost felt like old times, back when the world was still exciting and interesting.

Hearing that Amber was back was a bitter pill to swallow. Hearing that he spoke of the Great Escape was even more worrying.

“Amber's return is troublesome news, indeed. Though, I would rather not go after him. I'm not sure a direct attack will do us any good. Considering the state of the warriors, it might be best to wait.”

“I can actually provide a bit more information on the Great Escape, believe it or not. Actually, I'm shocked Amber even mentioned it. The information I have is from oral accounts, and even then they're the kind that are from a friend of a friend. I can't help but wonder how Amber came to know of it.” Kit replied, spinning the ring on his finger as he thought.

“The legend stems from a small tribe in Ira, located on the southernmost tip. They're a reclusive bunch, which is why I couldn't get any information from them. So, for Amber to know of it to the extent of claiming there's a book there... It's worrying. I'm not sure if it's a trap or not.”

“As for location, I don't know if any of us can find it. It's not exactly geographical. It's more of a mirage, opening only to the spiritually awakened. Gurus, elders, monks, only the most self-disciplined of them have been able to go there. And it's not always in the same place, either. If you look away you might not be able to see it again.”

“It is supposed to take you to another realm, but I’m afraid I don't have any detailed experiences. Those who have ventured there refuse to tell me about it for spiritual reasons.”

Kit closed his eyes and bit his lip before speaking again. “I haven't heard anything about a book. And the thought of an accompanying party is concerning... however, I say we go. It'll be difficult, but I think it will be well worth it. Others joining is a problem, but due to the nature of the Great Divide itself I think there's a possibility we can pull this off without them even getting inside the Great Divide. After all, it does disappear in a blink of the eye."

Lillian hummed a soft, pleased sound as Kit chuckled and complied readily enough to her 'shut up and hold me' decision without further complaints. They stayed like that for some time. Silent, and star-gazing.

...

Lillian was aloof much over the passing week. She was here or there, and could be found easily enough. She humored whoever came near to talk with her, but was often more free-of-feather during conversations - leaving others behind, or not quite sure what she'd mentioned something about, or maybe was answering for another. Before moving on again, breezily to the next thing that caught her fancy or attention.

She came without complaint to the meeting around lunch-time from Haru's knock at the door in the early morning hours. Curling up her feet, she sat comfortably in the soft, antique cushioned chairs, easy and content and silent. She observed Haru, with pursed limps, as the guardians came in one by one, greeting them all and apologizing if he had disturbed their sleep. The One Above he was nervous, and Lillian expected this was what this meeting was about after not seeing the February guardian much of the week except for meals.

It was not long before everything was explained, after everyone had settled and Haru had stretched and closed the curtains shut tight. It went from Amber, to a Great Divide, to the Book of Truth. Nikita jumped first to respond, to Haru questioning their next move. Demanding they head after Amber now and ignore all this confusing talk, and she could agree it was odd, about this Great Divide or Book. It held promise, that plan of action, of course, and yet after Kit spoke out with more information regarding the Great Divide, not so much the book, and the fact that were the warriors truly ready for that kind of campaign - they'd only been taught to kill and defend themselves against cyclopean, doing the same against people (and a couple that had been their mentors for three years) was a different problem entirely. And Amber was an actor, or a believer of the dramatic arts, and so... Oh!

Lillian was always what could be termed a silent processor, and often held back her opinions to the very end. But it could be seen clearing by her narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, she was thinking, hard, about what Haru said. Without another speaking up, yet, she offered her humming opinion in a soft but sharp voice, "I will not repeat what Nikita and Kit have already mentioned, because it is a waste of breath and information we all now know, but..." She paused, thoughtfully; waving her hands absently as she spoke and thought of how to put what she wanted to say into proper words. "I see this Amber as something of an actor, or a playright perhaps? He's far too dramatic, too unpredictable, however... If this is a true trap, and he's attempting to lead us wrong by giving us the information of a Great Divide and a Book of Truth, why bother? We're in the best trap possibly staying here, having grown soft from such fine comfort."

"I do not think the warriors, or ourselves for that matter, are quite ready for any campaigns out of the blue. Whether or not we go directly after these orphans, or to this Great Divide and Book of Truth. Training has slacked for many... Granted, getting on the move again, adding a routine of training as we go, may help this issue, but we'd have company to deal with along the way? Oh, and of course... Going after people is far different than going after cyclopean. We've never asked the warriors to do that..." She paused, this time sparing a short glance at Ryou. His 'children' and some of the warrior's own mentors were on the orphans side now, if... She continued, "For now, I think my vote is going to this Great Divide, and this Book of Truth. Even if it is a useless endeavor, and I do not doubt we very well meet the orphans sometime soon anyway. It'll better for everyone, even with TRK additions, to get out of the politics directly, and strengthen their abilities again without worrying of keeping everything tongue in cheek."

---

Falke froze, and held his breath as he tried not to wince. Morgan had suddenly stepped forward, as if to impose a waltz on him anyway, despite not seeming the least bit offended that he'd declined her earlier offer. Instead she'd placed both hands framing his face, displacing errant hair that had been purposefully styled by Mildred's mini-Army, and brushed his lashes down with gentle fingers; observing his blind eyes, blearily attempting to focus down at her own brimming with curiosity, sightful eyes. He barely managed not to gasp at the sudden onrush of information, new and old memories, and the aching resemblance of his own face seen by another's eyes; and carefully held his own mind in check, as best as he was able, not wishing to burden her with his own chaotic emotion and thought landscape.

It was then she asked a question, curious, and still full of endearing excitement for the world around her, "How blind are you?"

It was something he very well would have thought as a exceedingly rude insult from his days, Goddess above, a long, to long, far to long to be honest he felt like, time ago on Earth. Then he'd thought he would never allow his tragedy of birth to shape his personality or hopes for the coming years, and had merely accepted it as it was, that he was blind and would forever be, so why bother anymore with it? He'd thought then he had the confidence and strength to live out the days as normally as he was able too, tolerating more than a few babying reactions from his dearest mother and the you poor fellow from passerby's on the straight. He'd only need to rely on those silly 'sunglasses' and his seeing-eye dog, Otter, they were his faithful, forever friends. Hah. Now? Oh, now... God, not Goddess thank you very much, he'd grown up in this crazy-ass world called Aires, more than he'd expected apparently. He didn't even think his blindness as something to survive with barely, now it was easy, powers and gifts, huh - how blind was he anymore?

Falke finally spoke up, after a moment had passed, seemingly letting her take her time in observation before responding, "It's all relative I guess, I've lived with it for so long and I'm just used to it. But... It's like standing waist deep in a rushing river and trying to catch a million tiny floating leaves as they race past you. Some of them I can catch, like a quick moving shadow at times. Most of them I can't, because I don't know they're even there until they brush past me." It was then, his own hands rose, grasping softly as much as his rough, and calloused hands would allow, her own far smaller and smoother hands. He gave them a gentle squeeze, as he pulled them away from his face. "Thanks for asking, not many do."

...

It had been a week since the party, and a week since he'd been around or even talked with another month warrior, guardian (including his own), or Academy trio member. After the recent fiasco in that other room, and his own snap at Xabier and the others; Falke had needed the breather. And under his own choice, and plain to purposefully avoid the lot, it was remarkable that he'd even managed it at all. Powers or not, be dammed. It had been the chance at some blessed silence, and freedom from others' thoughts and emotions crowding into his own head.

He definitely felt better for it, even with the limited human contact he'd allowed himself was around Princess Morgan wandering through the gardens and small chatting about his blindness or some wonderful flower, or the occasional willing knight he'd spare with in-between spare moments, or one of the palace maids - one whom had recently patched him up for the fourth time that week, mentally cursing that he needed to be more careful with sharp, pointy objects, even if it was training. Speaking of which, fei...

Falke hissed softly to himself. Shifting his makeshift position, from laying down on his back on one of the many stone benches within the palace's garden, to raise his hand and forearm upward awkwardly in an attempt to allow the pull of gravity to lessen the amount of blood (and likewise, muted pain) going past his most recent stabbed addition he'd gained the past morning. It matched the other three, similar marks or slashes, over the past week from his own self-training or sparring with a willing night. It was pinks, for stupid mistakes, to be honest he should've just dealt with this one like the others - but so close to the 'funny' bone, that was definitely not so funny, he didn't feel yet of ignoring it all completely. A quiet, lackluster snooze seemed most appropriate...

Before he could, a distant mental presence made itself known to him. It was clear that it wasn't Morgan's bright personality, or the maid coming back to clean or scold him mentally more, and it wasn't common for Trent or the knights' to be wandering the Garden; it must be one of his own group. Falke sighed. So much for getting comfortable... He abrutly swung his feet down, sitting on the bench and more than ready to shove himself upright, and stopped to 'listen' again to determine the direction they were heading in order to avoid them. Oh... He grunted softly to himself, a frown perched on his lips suddenly, not so much because of the steady throb of his wrapped arm, but because the presence made herself better known to him as she drew closer.

It was Tallyho. Who for the most part had excepted his disappearance and obvious avoidance of the group. Who had given him the space and time alone he'd needed and wanted, without needlessly hunting after him (honestly with his abilities, he could keep doing that trick for weeks if it came down to it). Who figured out other relations, without stressing out their own. Who now, apparently had decided it was time to find him... It was a minor glimmer purpose, a gut-feeling he more so felt, because it wasn't like she was calling for him in her mind trying to get his attention, but she was coming - trying to find him. Humph...

It was a reluctantly made decision, because being on his own and his mind-load eased from not being around everyone of their sorry show of a group was an intoxicating concept he was certain for him. But he still hesitantly paused his planned escape, in order to stay put, sitting on that lonely stone bench as Tallyho drew closer. It had been a week, maybe it was time...