A/N: Due to some odd conversation with a good friend of mine, who goes by the name Skienite here, we somehow fabricated this odd plot idea. So I went forth and constructed my interpretation from whatever writing mojo I have left.
A Moment of Solidarity
Fences are usually built with a sturdy material to mark the borders of one's property. Wooden and upright, they stand on guard, reminding a passer-by that this land was owned. However, if a person was financially endowed, these fences would rise higher than average adult height, the make would be metal and indifferent, and the tops would be pointed like spears. No bird would dare nest its feathery bottom on the cold iron gates, nor would an intruder wish to scale and risk impalement. It would amuse Master Cyclonis if someone did decide to sit upon her fence, made of Talons clad in their metallic armour, staring blankly into the horizon. Crystal staffs were gripped by crimson gloved hands, nice and sturdy, bidding any stranger good day if they wished to encroach into her space.
Unlike any other day where she would seat her regal self in a leather upholstered throne, Master Cyclonis found domestic comfort sitting cross-legged on the checked picnic rug. She chose the prime location at the smooth convex peak of a green Atmosian hill, and the view offered much of the commercial scrambling that the pesky civilians bothered with every day. If she craned her head, her purple eyes would trace the white monument that stood erect in the centre, disgustingly beaconing a blue aura that was too evocative of the wrong patriotism. She did not exert these futile efforts to merely gaze upon something so obtuse; she hypothesised that that would be the case, and refused to invest further interest into anything remotely Atmosian.
Well, maybe except for the present company.
Bearing a significant scowl, his crimson eyebrows were knitted, creasing the skin tightly at the forehead. Cyclonis noticed the deep ridges it formed on his head, and she sardonically remarked that he should cease such an action, unless he wished to permanently tattoo wrinkles on such a fine complexion.
Of course he disobeyed like the Sky Knight he was.
Nevertheless, she sipped the fine rose tea from the porcelain cup, and clicked it gingerly back onto its complementing saucer. Flowery incense always did calm her mind. Aerrow however, held the poor cup in a death grip that his white knuckles against crimson flesh bore uncanny resemblance to the chinaware. Cyclonis finished her first serve and began to pour herself another. A Talon beside her looked remarkably nervous, and with her piqued aural senses, he was definitely rattling his bones against his armour. Surely, he felt obliged to pour her more of the fine liquid from the teapot. A quick sidewards glance and a narrowing of her eyes, he ceased suddenly and continued his sturdy post.
"A gentleman would always pour the lady tea, Aerrow," Cyclonis calmly stated as she placed the pot down and allowed the steamy, flowery aroma swirl around her olfactory senses. "Etiquette, Sky Knight."
"You aren't a lady to me."
"And you are no gentleman," she tutted back. What an unkempt and rude teen, and yet here she was, embodying the same biological age as the Sky Knight. Cyclonis was not expecting much from a boy who lived in a flying metal carcass, and who had no sense in taming that unruly hair. Poor parental guidance, she concluded. She had to thank the Dark Ace for that.
Drinking another blissful sip of the tea, she balanced the cup and saucer in one hand, and opened the basket with the other. A Talon immediately abandoned his post, and knelt to assist his Master. She promptly slapped him. It was quick and sharp, like a clap of thunder. Abashed, he righted himself into his position and shared a sheepish glance at his neighbour. Cyclonis eased the package out, the wrapping crinkling as it drooped slightly near the ends.
"Fancy a biscuit, Aerrow? Strawberry and cream shortbread." She placed it atop the picnic rug and pushed it towards the boy. He only replied with a nose wrinkling in disgust.
"Drink your tea as well."
He stared back with an indignant emerald gaze. "No."
"Are you always this fun at tea time?" Cyclonis raised her eyebrow as she sipped her tea once more.
"I'm the most fun in the squadron. Ask anyone."
"Hmm." Cyclonis resounded, amused. She placidly placed the emptied cup atop the basket whilst shaking her head. Getting onto her knees, she maneuvered herself closer to the Sky Knight, and sat herself adjacent to the boy. A good threatening stare should encourage a small sip.
"Drink up."
"Never."
Whistling through her hair, a light wind caught her front fringe, obscuring her menacing glower, stopping it from reaching full capacity. She could feel Aerrow's smirk radiating from underneath her dark locks, and with a nudge, she elbowed the Sky Knight blindly. The chorus of a shrill boyish cry and clattering china signalled an upset cup of tea. Merely brushing her hair from her vision, Cyclonis risked a small triumphant smile before observing the disgruntled Aerrow. His death grip was too easily bested by the empress herself.
The Talons chuckled softly. One bent over to ascertain his Master's condition, and returned to his sturdy post in satisfaction that she did not require a towel.
"What was that for?" Aerrow said through gritted teeth.
His cup sat upturned on his lap, imprinting quite the embarrassing dark patch on his pants. The saucer remained peacefully on the rug as it did initially, with the slightest golden sprinkle of rose essence on its white surface. Those strawberry and cream shortbread biscuits just watched with a tickled expression, if one could assume that packaging could muster such an emotion with its plastic crinkles. Feeling the scrutiny, his damp gloved fingers gingerly wrapped around the cup's handle, awkwardly sliding the base around and attempting to click it into the saucer. Aerrow's eyes wandered to his lap whilst stretching for the biscuits. He promptly placed the snacks on the conspicuous area, hoping that such would distract the surrounding audience of the issue.
"Ah, taking an interest in the biscuits now Aerrow?" Cyclonis spied as she took his cup and filled it with more tea. She held it in front of his lips, pushing the china into his mouth. A soft clunk resounded as the cup contacted with his gritted teeth, and he shook his head in refusal.
"Drink it, or I'll douse your crotch with more tea and make you prostrate yourself to the entire Cyclonian Empire."
Cyclonis observed his contemplating features. Stubbornly, his teeth were still clenched.
"I'll ensure the Dark Ace's presence."
He grabbed the cup and downed the serving. Cyclonis responded with a brief smile and she refilled it once more.
"Don't you ever defy my orders Sky Knight."
She never thought the Atmosian surrender would be so entertaining.