If Rose hadn't hated thunderstorms before, she definitely hated them now. And it wasn't because she was afraid, thank you very much, though Edna tried her hardest to tease her all the same. No—this was no ordinary fear, because fright alone could never inspire them all to be this on edge.

Something about this weather was deeply wrong, and they all knew it; they just weren't talking about it, as if in hopes that ignoring all this rain would make the sun shine again. In fact, Lailah hadn't spoken a word since yesterday; even then, at first she'd only glanced up at the clouds rolling in with the thunder, her sea-green eyes veiled with some nameless emotion heavier than worry.

After all, they had found no triumph in their victory; only a restless sense of unease, the first sign of the coming storm. Sorey was the first to break the all-pervasive silence, speaking of last rites and a proper burial—grieving for their enemy as though he'd been a comrade. That impartial compassion was part of what Rose had always admired about Sorey, but that tight feeling in her gut told her they shouldn't be here. She could tell the others felt it too, staring up at the seething sky.

"Sorey," Lailah had murmured, so softly Rose could barely hear over the rumble of thunder in the distance, and rested her gentle hand on his shoulder. There was an urgency about her voice, her mannerisms, that the others had scarcely ever seen before. Yet she said only, "We should go," and vanished into him. The others had exchanged unreadable glances before following suit.

"We can come back," Rose had pointed out, half against her will, when Sorey still did not move. He'd hesitated before nodding once, seemingly with an effort, and offered his hand with a brave smile; Rose took it, and they took off. Charging with all their limited energy towards the cliffs, dodging raindrops until they were too thick and fast to avoid, they'd finally stumbled upon this godsend of a shack, situated at the bottom of a ridge. Empty, of course, and somewhat dilapidated; but certainly better than nothing.

And here they still sat, bone-tired from yesterday's fight and subsequent flight… and an almost sleepless night after that, listening to this river of rain pounding relentlessly down on the thatched roof. It was only because of Mikleo's generously applied seraphic artes that such a flimsy structure didn't give way under the weight of all that water.

A fact which Edna preferred to ignore, if her barbed criticism of his performance in yesterday's battle was anything to go by. At this point, Rose was about ready to head outside just to get away from the two of them for a moment. After all, polishing her knives did little to lessen the stress gradually knotting in the pit of her stomach, and she couldn't stand just standing there, staring out the window with Sorey and Lailah. Some exercise would do her good; with any luck, Mikleo's magic extended far enough for her to walk around the lodge.

But as Rose poked her head out the door to test the waters, she found out the hard way that Aifread's Hunting Grounds had effectively become their own Great Morgan Falls. A sudden gust of wind brought with it enough rain to soak her hair almost through to the scalp, threatening to do the same to the rest of her if she ventured outside. It was almost as if the weather wanted to trap them there…

Shuddering more at the thought of a sentient storm than the cold, Rose sank defeatedly to the bench in the tiny entryway, plucking up the nearest rag to dry her hair. "Exactly," Edna was saying, and Rose sighed; whatever she was talking about, the group could do without this kind of needling. "I guess you better get started."

"You heard her, Mikleo," added Dezel, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Rose debated telling him he wasn't helping matters, but she was distracted by another flash of lightning, almost immediately followed by thunder. Those strikes were close, and getting closer since yesterday.

"What? Why me?" exclaimed Mikleo, clenching his fists.

"You really need to come up with new reactions," grinned Edna, somewhat unnervingly, and twirled her finger idly around the inside of her parasol handle in Rose's peripheral vision. "Your shtick is gonna get old." Rose narrowed her eyes; she ought to know that now wasn't the time to be picking petty fights like this. Was this just her way of keeping herself entertained, and the others distracted…?

Dezel chuckled once, and Rose realized that she must be right. Maybe it was better they bicker like this after all, if it kept their mind off speculating on the origins of this unnatural storm. Nobody seemed to want to mention it, anyway, as if saying anything might break some kind of protective spell. "No kidding," he remarked, licking his lips.

"What do you mean, my shtick?!" exploded Mikleo, stepping forward in defensive aggression—wide-eyed with indignation in the firelight. That fire was the only thing keeping them warm in this weather; their outer layers still weren't dry enough for them to wear, after yesterday's sprint through this torrential rain. Thank gods for seraphim, thought Rose fleetingly. (Unless that was redundant.)

"Meebo, you need to understand your position here," replied Edna with mock patience, continuing to trace her endless ellipses, but Rose was preoccupied with watching Lailah. She stood still as a statue, barely even breathing, and her glazed eyes seemed to be searching for something specific in the storm; whatever was happening, it was all too clear that she knew something about it. But there was no use asking, thought Rose somewhat bitterly, because if she refused to explain such a dire situation, it must be involved with her oath.

"No comment," snapped Mikleo, and Rose raised her head, eyes sliding over to Sorey. He'd barely spoken any more than Lailah, and he'd stayed up later than any of them, turning over something heavy in his mind; she doubted whether he'd gotten any sleep at all. (He hadn't even taken the cloth from around his neck, and that had been there since their arrival.) "You're just trying to derail the conversation, aren't you."

"No comment," echoed Edna pointedly; Rose pulled the towel down from her head and got to her feet, taking measured—almost tentative—steps towards Sorey. If the other seraphim weren't going to support him, then it fell to her to check in… and besides, if anyone could put two and two together, it was the Shepherd. He might have been innocent to the point of naiveté, but he was anything but unobservant.

"Same here," agreed Dezel, and Mikleo growled in response, but Rose was barely listening anymore. Sorey gave no indication that he sensed her approach, nor did he acknowledge her presence as she came to a halt just behind him. It was as if he stood in a dream—though this scenario might more accurately be called a nightmare.

"Is it gonna stop?" asked Rose softly, loath to startle him out of his thoughts; Sorey turned his head briefly to glance back at her, but returned his gaze watchfully to the window as thunder rolled once more. A Shepherd, especially one whom had apparently dabbled in meteorology back in Elysia, would know better than just about anyone else exactly how screwed they all were.

"Doesn't look like it," he replied, just as quietly, shaking his head; Rose's breath caught for reasons she didn't quite understand—confirmation of the suspicion she hadn't realized she'd had, perhaps. There was an almost unbearably long pause before he murmured darkly, "I wonder how much longer it's gonna rain."

Rose's eyes widened at his tone, and she traced his gaze out the window. Was something moving out there…? The thought had barely crossed her mind when the tremors started. More like a full-on earthquake, actually; Rose staggered, the floor heaving under her like the deck of a ship. As she tried to balance herself, the other seraphim cried out as if in pain (the sound almost drowned out by her own pounding pulse): Mikleo's protective magic faltered and finally failed.

Cold water burst through the gaps in the roof, and Rose gasped as it drenched her to the skin; Lailah's fire flickered out. As the rafters creaked and cracked ominously, threatening to collapse, she glanced around desperately, checking for an escape route—and discovered, with a shock as unpleasant as lightning or rainwater, that the seraphim were nowhere to be found. What could have happened to them?

"We gotta get out of here!" exclaimed Sorey urgently, drawing her out of her thoughts: he leapt up, drawing his sword to slash at the pole and reclaim his cape: Rose grabbed her jacket just as the roof finally caved in the middle. Thinking was too strong a word to describe what was going on in her mind; the only thing that mattered was get out of the way—so she dove aside.

"Rose!" cried Sorey's voice, ringing in her dazed ears as she hit the ground hard (after a much longer airtime than she would have thought possible), and she shook her head in a futile attempt to try and clear it. Sitting up slowly, wincing, she realized that the ruined walls separated them, trapping them in each half-destroyed section of the house. But what almost made her heart stop was the realization that she'd landed about a foot away from the collapse.

"I'm fine," coughed Rose, when she had enough breath to speak, and made the mistake of looking through the slats that were once a roof. "Totally fine," she clarified, able to make out some sort of behemoth looming above her, eerily lit by a purple glow. Was that a dragon? "Never been better."

"Rose," said Sorey, his voice full of relief; clearly, he wasn't seeing what she was seeing. "The seraphim. They're—" But he was cut off by… yeah, judging from the sound of that roar, that was definitely a dragon. And she'd thought her ears were ringing before!

Survival instincts kicking in, Rose staggered to her feet, gritting her teeth as a falling stone cracked against her head. Why was it waiting for them like this? It was practically right on top of them, certainly close enough to crush them; and even if it wasn't, why didn't the damn thing just incinerate them, or something? But she supposed there were bigger problems to worry about than why it wasn't killing them.

Kicking her way through the weakened wall and ducking out before either it or the dragon could crush her, Rose hesitated. Should she save herself or go after Sorey? But she was spared making such a decision as he burst out of the wreckage with a swift arte and a cry just as quick.

"Let's just get out alive!" he yelled, his eyes burning with something like determination in the dim light, and Rose wasn't about to argue. She didn't like the look in that dragon's eyes, as if it was wondering which of them to eat first. (Not that two humans would do much in the way of sustenance for such an enormous beast.)

"This way!" she called, gesturing frantically as her voice was drowned out by thunder, and charged in the direction of Morgause—but as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Sorey would follow, he only smiled after her, nodded, and ran the other way.

And with that prologue, dear readers, I bring to you yet another complex semi-AU! Just four little footnotes…

An elaboration on the genre: Supernatural-Adventure is kind of generic, given that it describes the setting more than the interactions. Realistically, it's going to end up as Supernatural-Adventure-Fantasy-Spiritual-Drama-Hurt/Comfort-Romance-Friendship-Humor with maybe a little bit of Angst and/or Tragedy thrown in now and again. I find that it's a lot harder to narrow down more expansive stories into just a couple genres, especially one as convoluted as this.

A disclaimer regarding the pairing(s): Though gradual Dezel/Rose will be the primary focus relationship-wise, this story will also likely include the possibility of other ships. However, I'll try to keep the others much more lightly implied, so their interactions may be read as either romantic or not.

A warning about timeframes: As with all multi-chapter stories, I can't vouch for my update schedule; given that life is… life, I may vanish now and again. That said, I hope to be able to keep hiatuses to a minimum. We'll see if it works out that way.

And finally, an invitation: If any of you—however many of you there are; my estimate is in the single digits—leave reviews, I'll try to respond to you in the Author's Notes at the end of the chapter I publish next, so as to avoid the general clunkiness of the PM system (and to be able to reply to guests). So, feel free to review!