Right, before we even start, please remember that when Cedric says 'mon', he is speaking French and saying 'my', but the Escanor 'mon', is simply said before a name to basically note that they are younger. Happy readings and please R&R! :)


Elyon Escanor gazed out at the glum sky, where a lighter shade of grey signaled to her that morning was soon to arrive. Dusk. It was hard to tell at first; the difference between nightfall and morning. Now Elyon only found it hard to differentiate between morning and mourning. The skies must, surely, crave their suns.. As much as Phobos had confessed to craving a sister. To craving her. The idea had brushed like a cold breeze; leaving a tingle right in the very inner walls of her lungs, and causing her to smile and blush giddily at him fr lack of oxygen there.. Or was that a dream? It was becoming so hard for her to tell with these things.. "Mon Elyon?"

Mon. It had sounded strange; foreign; like it might not mean the precious 'my', and yet it was far more delicate somehow, than when the Lord Cedric spoke it. And that rattled her. "What do you want?"

Elyon snapped it, but her eyes had grown wide and apologetic by the time her corseted frame had swiveled to look at the shaggy brown that fell over Caleb's bowing head; cloaking what she knew to be a face of strong, yet boyish features, and virtuously powerful green eyes: translucently perfect the last time she'd seen them paired with the contents of his neck spilling out over his t-shirt - there was blood, she was sure, undetectable on her ruby carpet - but his eyes had shone with caring yet defiance; love and hate; like crystal or diamonds, emeralds in his blooded face. But when he finally raised his body from the floor, he only looked at her with a childish confusion, and slight sadness in his grassy eyes, "I.. I don't.."

...

The dim light of the early morning shone with a rose-colour quilting the town of Heatherfield. Romantic, some might conclude, though Caleb would only call such a light which was shining down into his little window a harassment. Because, he would argue listlessly, light was quick to banish his sleep. It wouldn't matter to Caleb that it had been dark when he'd awoken.

"Fuck." Caleb lay back, as he had been for hours, on a hard lumpy mattress that had never seemed as uncomfortable before. And Caleb's eyes flashed erratically in the dusky light; lost in thought; a double-sided match in his head: Caleb had debated with himself long through the latest hours of night, right until now. And though arguments seemed to conclude at this time, no one ever said a conclusion would permit such a thing as sleep - and the sport disinterested him now, as his dreams had only visited the lair of Phobos, and Caleb did not wish to find Elyon's room again.. Even if he had the answer now. Because it wasn't what he wanted, it was what he felt he needed.

He was going to have to have her.

He was going to have to have all of her, instead of the little he'd been satisfied by, because whether it was what he needed or not, it was all or nothing now. In the current state of his relationship, Caleb was quite happy with the give and take with Will. Or maybe he hadn't been happy; Caleb didn't really know anymore, but it couldn't last either way.

It had never been inappropriate, in his eyes and (as far as he could tell) Will's, for Caleb to search for a hand when he needed one. And in turn, Caleb would let her do the same and Caleb had always found the human contact a Godsend. Dreaming of Will had never bothered him either, though a subconscious fear had never allowed his confession to Will's own ears. It just didn't seem that bad.

His 'family' gave him the pride of Will; that ownership of rights that Caleb hadn't ever really taken note of. He'd never really cared why he'd nearly killed Drake, or why he'd followed her last night when he knew she would be with a heavy crowd of rebel men. But it was because in the Metaworld, Will was his. And that ownership did not stretch to Earth.. It wasn't a want of his, Caleb had thought, to have Will all for his own, but the agitated murmur boy was being forced to reconsider. That there might not be a difference between that want, and his desire. That Caleb didn't want anyone else to take her from him.

Padded footsteps outside the basement door came down the stairs and closer, and a foolish jolt wished it would be Will. But no, he ought to know fine well that she was the only of the five girls not to have slept upstairs, so instead Caleb only wished for it not to be Cornelia. "Are you awake?"

"I'm jealous." It had slipped out with no discomfort when Caleb had heard that it was Irma at the door. Then he'd hoped to God she was alone.

She was, apparently, because when he shifted to sit, she'd climbed the ladder and shuffled up beside him as she often did; with their backs to the wall, Caleb could see the tiny holes where they'd thrown darts at Cornelia's picture for a joke. It hadn't ever helped him any that Irma couldn't throw a single good shot, so he'd got the worst of the glowering. "I know you are."

"Do you think she knows?"

The silence was louder than before, and it took Irma a moment to smirk at him. "Well you didn't even notice."

Caleb sat then, sitting in the cool morning air and wondering if she might only laugh. If he spoke his mind to her. Then again, she hadn't laughed yet, and Caleb had to admit that it was a miracle if Irma could go more than three sentences without saying something sarcastic, or some other type of funny remark. "I'd like to have her... For her to have me."

She looked at him a little funnily, but Caleb didn't know how else to say it and found himself staring at his intertwining fingers on his lap. Drake would say that he'd like to 'take' a woman, but Caleb wanted nothing of such a sort, and nerves rattled through him that that might be what Irma thought he meant. What Drake did was crude; immoral, Caleb knew that and Irma was grimacing at him in a way that made him feel like he'd committed a crime - like he was the immature, child next to a consoling adult, rather than a thirteen year old brunette. "You'd better hope she's not taken then.."

"What?" Caleb stared at Irma in shock, but Irma only snickered at the panic that must've crossed his features.

"If Matt's claimed her.." Caleb stared at Irma, worrying when she looked down at her own pajama shorts that covered her lap, but relaxing when she looked up and smiled at him, "I think you've got a chance though. She likes you."