A/N: Hello hello my little friends.
So, there I was, pondering about how Dark Ace should die, when I decided to write something about it - or rather, how Ravess would find out about it. (Don't think of "Last Days" - she's dead there.) I'm such a RavAce girl…It's all slightly confusing, I know - but read and hopefully it will make more sense.
Disclaimer: Me no own Storm Hawks, any of the characters or Terras…. Sadly. Someday I will own them, though. But I don't now.
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Play.
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It was cold. Bitterly cold. It seemed to cut through your clothes and through your skin, right to the bone like some sort of razor-sharp blade.
It was the kind of cold that stings when you are outside in it, and then whenever you walk back into a building and begin to warm up, the heat that brings the return of feeling also brings pain.
For the red-haired young man who was walking to his skimmer, it seemed to be the coldest day that he could ever remember. Terra Atmosia was usually sunny and warm during the summer months, but not today. Today appeared to be one of those days where the weather experts will turn around and say in years to come:
"Oh, remember the 21st of April? Back in 1917?"
"Oh, yes, I remember - it was the coldest day of the summer."
"And it was the coldest day in summer for since a hundred years previously…"
The red-haired teenager smiled grimly as he thought these thoughts before he shook his head. He knew that he had a duty to perform and as must as he loathed to do it; he had promised a condemned man who had been waiting to be executed that he would do so. It was, if you could call it, a dying wish.
And Aerrow never broke promises if he could help it. He was one of the few men left in Atmos whos word of honour could be trusted. If he said he would do something, he would. So now that he had promised to deliver the last letter of the man thought of as "the great traitor", well then, he was going to have to do it.
Why was he so reluctant to fulfil and carry out his promise this time? Well, maybe it had something to do with the fact that he blamed himself. He believed deep down that if he had tried harder then this letter would not be existence - there would be no need for it. How could he deliver it, knowing that as soon as he placed it into the hands of its receiver, he would feel that rush of shame and guilt that had been plaguing him for several hours now?
He reached into his pocket and lifted out the cheap paper that "the great traitor" had been permitted to use for his final letter.
Of course, the Sky Knight Council didn't want to waste money on him - It was expensive enough to keep him locked up and then to eventually be executed without having to pay extra for proper paper and ink.
Aerrow smiled bitterly at the thought. Even though the man had taken everything thrown at him in his stride; every humiliation - and there had been many of those - the Sky Knight Council had still refused to carry out his last request properly. It was shameful, so shameful, and not for the first time did Aerrow mutter curses quietly under his breath.
He looked back to the letter, curled up in his hand. There was several words written on the front that he couldn't understand - written in some unrecognisable language, one that he had never been taught as a child at school.
It had been Piper who had identified it for him when he had shown her the letter, for she had been interested to see it after he had told her what the last request of their great enemy had been. She too had shared his dislike at the way the Sky Knight Council had carried things out, and all along she had been by his side when protesting against the matter of execution. When they had failed, it had been her who had sat with him outside the courtroom, holding his hand. For she had known what a huge blow it had been for him.
When he had let her see the letter, she had looked surprised and held it to her eyes, as if she did not believe what she saw written there.
*************
Rewind.
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"Aerrow? Do you know what this is?" Piper's voice rang out in the empty corridor, filled with surprise and a touch of excitement. She quickly glanced up and down the corridor, checking in case anyone was around. When she was satisfied, she held the letter up to the light that was streaming through the window near her.
"Well, I don't know…Apart from it being the last letter of a man who is going to die tomorrow morning in front of screaming and jeering crowds, no Piper, I don't." Aerrow sharply said, leaning against the wall.
She looked upset - his words reminded her of the true reason she held this letter in her hands. It seemed so odd to think that soon the man who had wrote this letter would be dead, and this was the last record of his life, in a way. She looked at the letter. It was so important, for something so small.
"I'm sorry, Piper…I didn't mean to be so sharp with you. It's just, well, I'd rather that that letter didn't have to be here with us right now; that it didn't need to have been written." Aerrow said with a sigh, running a hand through his already-ruffled red hair. He stood up straight and walked over to her. "I just wish that we could have succeeded with our efforts…"
"It's okay, Aerrow. I know how much this has affected you. I'm sorry, too - I'm acting like this is interesting when the truth of the matter is that it's barbaric." She looked up into his face and smiled slightly. "And you did everything you could have possibly done. You tried so hard, Aerrow. You tried, and he knows that." She said, looking into his dark-green eyes that looked so upset.
"So, tell me then - what is so fascinating about the words at the front?" He said quickly, his eyes flickering from her own to what her hands contained instead.
Changing the topic. He didn't want to be constantly reminded of what was soon going to take place - the thing that he had failed in trying to change.
Piper nodded, a quick upward tilt of the head. She knew why he had asked her the question, and decided to ignore "that topic" too.
"Well… I've only ever seen this language in my textbooks. It's Cyclonian." She sounded breathless in her excitement.
Aerrow raised an eyebrow. "Really? Actual Cyclonian? But I'd thought it was a dead language - no one spoke it anymore?"
She nodded, looking at the letter. "Well, that's what everyone believed, but it seems that they still speak it on Cyclonia - mostly those who are old enough to have been in Cyclonian under the rule of the old Master Cyclonis."
"That's the recent one's father, correct?" Aerrow asked. Trying not to think about the death of that Master Cyclonis - trying not to think of her as a young girl but as the crazed ruler she had constantly been portrayed as.
"Yes…He had established many schools that had in their curriculum the old traditions - the ancient Cyclonian tongue, Cyclonian sports - the lot. When he died, however, most of those schools were closed down because the late Master Cyclonis..." Here her voice stumbled lightly - she had always felt pity for that girl - but she swallowed and carried on, "Wanted to save money. She didn't think that the schools were helpful, either."
"So… Basically anyone who is around twenty-two or older can still speak Cyclonian, then?"
"Yes. They probably won't though - not now, anyway…" She trailed off, thinking. Cyclonia, that once grand and huge empire was now cut down to its own Terra of the same name. Anyone who was Cyclonian would now be in hiding, or pretending to have been born someplace else. No one would be in a hurry to speak an ancient language that who almost certainly prove that they were "true-blooded Cyclonians" and that would then result in them being killed.
Aerrow was thinking the same thoughts, and he sighed. He looked back down at the letter, still in Piper's gloved hands.
"Do you know what it says, Piper?" He asked, feeling a tad curious.
She shook her head. "I only know a limited amount of Cyclonian - places, certain phrases…I haven't a clue what this says - I can only tell you that it is Cyclonian." She seemed almost disappointed.
Aerrow shook his head. "Well then, it seems that the Dark Ace wrote something for only one person, and since we will never know what it is - he'll take that secret with him to the grave."
*************
Fast-forward.
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He lightly touched the slanted letters of that language that was now forbidden. The curled words, written with a remarkably neat hand that held no meaning for him seemed to stand out. They represented, to Aerrow at least, the end of an era - the Cyclonian age of dominance was over. They stood for everything that had been lost.
Everything that was his fault.
He shook his head, and hopped on his skimmer, carefully placing the letter back into the safety of his zip-up pocket. He glanced round the empty road. He didn't need to wonder where everyone was, for he already knew, having left there himself.
Suddenly the urge to leave was overwhelming - more so than the reluctance that he had felt a moment ago.
Switching on the engine and feeding the skimmer several crystals from his pocket, Aerrow drove to the end of the road, and then opened the wings when he reached the end of the terra.
Suddenly he was flying.
He knew he had a long journey ahead of him. She was in hiding - a place where he and the rest of his team had found for her after she had been forced to leave Cyclonia. She had been desperate, and they say that in desperate times many people find themselves doing desperate things.
Well, in that case - she must have been very, very desperate.
He smiled grimly once more at the truth of it.
For she had turned to them, her enemies. But she was still alive; still free - well, as free as someone who has to hide out in a shack and disguise herself whenever she left it could actually be - and she was now, thanks to what had taken place on this day, the last sole survivor of the powerful commanders of Cyclonia.
Since she was hidden away on a very remote terra, she had been constantly waiting impatiently for news as everything took a while to reach her hears. She had heard about the Dark Ace's capture and imprisonment, and she had known about Aerrow's struggles to have him spared execution, but that was it. She did not know that he had failed, and now she had to be told that he had died.
Aerrow had figured that she deserved to be told as soon as possible, and from him, before she went into the small market place on the terra and heard it there.
He wondered how she would take it. Now that he knew what she had meant to the man - he would never had believed it if anyone else had told him, but since it came from the Dark Ace's mouth, well, then he had too - he wondered whether she would break down, or would she hold onto that rigid control of hers that had served her through the past few long months?
He honestly didn't know. Just like he had never known how much she meant to the Dark Ace; or vice versa. Just like he hadn't known what to say whenever he had been handed the letter to give to her. For what do you say to someone who gives you something for the person they love most, knowing that they will never see them again; knowing that you are the one who has to say that a loved one is dead?
*************
Rewind.
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"Ahh, Mister Aerrow." The jailer muttered, forcing his crooked back to form something along the lines of a bow. "You've come to see 'im then?"
Aerrow glanced around the room, shuddering slightly. He had made the same trip many times previously; had seen this room and the cell it lead to so many times, yet he still couldn't get over the bleakness and the condition of it.
He nodded. "I have." He looked pointedly at the door, ignoring the jailer. As he did all the time. The old man was a horror - if he was paid the right price, he would let anyone in…Those wanting revenge, for example. They would come in and then walk out again, bloody and with a smirk on their faces. He shuddered again, but this time for a different reason.
The old man took out a key and hobbled to the door. He smirked.
"So, Mister Aerrow - I hear tha' e's been sentenced, then?" She said, taking his time with the lock.
Aerrow sighed. How he disliked this man! He was happy that someone was to die…And here was himself, depressed for the same reason!
"Yes. That is correct." He kept his answers short and to the point, not elaborating - for he knew that that was what this old man really wanted - information to use.
The jailer seemed to have gotten the message, for he turned the key in the lock and slipped it back into his pocket.
"No less than wha' he deserves. Piece of scum…" He muttered, spitting onto the filthy floor.
Aerrow threw him a glare, before walking through the door. He wasn't even going to bother replying.
He walked along the dark passage for a minute before he reached two guards. He didn't like them much, either - they too could be bought, and they would turn their heads and look the other way for the right amount of coins.
They stood to attention as he walked up to them.
"Sir."
"Sir." They both muttered, eyes ahead.
He nodded to them. "I'm here to see the prisoner."
"Certainly, sir." The taller and older of the two unlocked the cell door, and held it open for him. "It's true, then? About him being executed and all?"
Aerrow looked at him. The guard shrank back. Aerrow had used what he now secretly referred to in his thoughts as his "Dark Ace" glare and man, it was effective. It should have been - he had seen it being used so many times that he could easily mimic it.
"Close the door after me. I'll knock when I want out." He ordered, and walked in. He waited until he heard the door being closed behind him before speaking.
The tiny and dirty cell had only one window and it too was small and heavily barred. Small streams of sunshine came through, just enough to illuminate the cell. Aerrow peered into the corner and saw the man he had come to visit, chained to the closest grimy and damp wall. He appeared to be sleeping - but Aerrow knew better.
It seemed that the jailer had let someone else in for revenge.
And for how much this time? He angrily thought, making his way over to the curled-up figure of his once hated and sworn rival. He had reached the thin figure of the once fearsome Dark Ace, and gently touched the man on his shoulder.
Trying not to wince as his hand came into contact with a prominent shoulder bone.
"Ace?" Another light tap. Aerrow looked at the man on the floor beneath him and shook his head before he crouched down.
"…Aerrow?" There was a shudder and then the red eyes snap open- well, as easily as eyes that are swollen and bruised can. "Is that you?" He sounded so weak, so...Vulnerable. Not something that Aerrow was used to - the man usually kept everything well hidden, but now... Now he just sounded defeated.
"Yeah, it's me…" He trailed off, looking at the man. "Are you -"
"I'm fine." Dark Ace interrupted, carefully and slowly easing himself upwards. His voice sounded more like it was usually and all traces of the previous moment of weakness had gone. He winced as he moved himself, but threw Aerrow one of those glares that he had become accustomed to. The glare that means "Let me alone - I can do this myself." Even with black and swollen eyes and a cut and bruised face the Dark Ace can still look pretty intimidating, yet Aerrow won't tell him that.
"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked, stretching out his arms with a mild clink as the chains met. "Those fools come to a decision yet? I haven't the faintest idea what the sentence will be." He smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. For he knew; had known all along what was to happen.
Aerrow looked at him. The man never failed to smirk or be sarcastic whenever mentions of his trial came up. He had always proclaimed that it was all just for show, and now he was about to be proved correct in his theory. But how Aerrow wished that it wasn't to be.
"Dark Ace… Atmos, this is hard to say…" He cleared his throat and started again. "Dark Ace, they found you guilty -"
"No surprises there." Dark Ace snorted, rolling his eyes. "Even you would have had to admit that that was going to happen!"
"Will you let me finish? For the love of… You never let me finish!" Aerrow said, now rolling his eyes. It was the usual routine, but this time it was so much harder to say and Aerrow was torn between saying everything as quickly as he could, or simply not say anything at all.
"That's because I'm a condemned man. I can do what I want." The Dark Ace said, sounding smug and folding his arms with yet another smirk.
The chains clinked again, and he look down at them with distaste.
Aerrow tried again. "They've decided to -"
"Execute me?" The Dark Ace asked. He smirked when he saw Aerrow's face, and looked at him straight into his eyes. "Sorry. I don't usually learn my lessons." He smirked again, before muttering quietly, almost under his breath yet Aerrow could still hear him, "Took them long enough…"
Aerrow looked back into the man's dark red eyes and saw, to his surprise, a sort of feverish excitement, like he had just received the news he had longed to hear. Then it hit him - Dark Ace wanted to die. He had wanted to die in battle, not to be captured and be condemned like this - chained like a dog; locked away; beat up by anyone who could afford to pay the guards and jailer. He had spent two long weeks locked up in this cramped and filthy cell, hardly fed anything and now he saw a chance to finally get away from it all. He didn't care about dying - he just wanted out.
"Yes. You are to be executed tomorrow morning at first light." Aerrow said, having to force the words out of his rapidly swelling throat. He did feel like crying, but told himself not too. "I'm sorry, Ace. I tried everything I could to get you out of it, but…I failed." He sometimes called him "Ace" and after a few times, the older man had gotten used to it and allowed him to continue calling him by that name.
"You always did when it came to fighting me." His once rival said, with a snort. "Look, kid - you and I both know that you could have given them everything they wanted but they still wouldn't let me off. It was all a mock trial," He waved his hands about to emphasis his point, causing a hundred little clinks, "And they were never going to let me off. So, you did your best kid, and for that…" He paused, looking awkward, "Thank you…" He let his hands fall back down into his lap, and shook his head when he heard the noise.
"I have to say - a good thing about dying is that I won't have to wear these again and put up with this racket." He smirked, before glancing up at the sunlight coming through the small barred window. Aerrow rolled his eyes at the way the man was accepting his death sentence so lightly.
"Aerrow… Is it sunny outside?" He asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the window.
Aerrow nodded, "Yes. Very - it's really warm, too." He looked at Dark Ace - the man was looking at the sun as if it was the most beautiful thing alive. He had been locked away in the dark for so long, and now seeing light was like heaven. He looked at it with a strange sort of yearning in his eyes - how he longed to be free.
"Aerrow," He said suddenly, "see this light? See how it comes just when I hear I'm about to die? It's brightening the room…That's what the news was like to me…" He trailed off.
Aerrow furiously scrubbed at his eyes now that the Dark Ace wasn't looking at him. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Ace… Did you know that since you where…Um…"
"Sentenced to be executed." The man said helpfully with a grin, turning his attention back on Aerrow. "Oh come on, Aerrow - you're going to have to say it sometime…"
Aerrow ignored him. "Well, now that you've been… Anyway, you are now allowed to write letters to anyone you want to…"
Ace looked up at him with sudden interest. "Really?"
Aerrow nodded. "Yes…Do you have anyone to write to?"
"Actually, I do… But they're in hiding right now. Can you do something for me Aerrow? You have done a lot for me already, but -"
"I'll do it." Aerrow said, his mouth set into a thin line of determination.
Ace smirked once more. "Now who's interrupting? Well… You actually know where she is. If I write her a letter, do you promise me, " His eyes seemed to burn brightly with a feverish glaze, "That you will deliver it and not to let anyone read it?"
He nodded. "I will. I promise." He saw Ace nod, and then had to ask, "But can I ask - to whom? How do I know where she is?"
Dark Ace turned back to look at the sunlight before replying. "You know who she is, Aerrow, because you helped to hide her."
Aerrow looked at him, confused. Who did he mean? And then he suddenly knew. He ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head for he really didn't believe it.
"…Ravess?" He asked, feeling slightly amazed. "Really? But I thought you hated her!"
The Dark Ace chuckled, glancing at Aerrow. "Then Aerrow, it seems you don't know an awful lot about love."
He laughed again, but to Aerrow it sounded more like a sob.
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Fast-forward.
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Aerrow sighed almost sadly before he swerved his skimmer to avoid a passing Maya bird. His thoughts were haunting him - they still where, even though he was up in the air and normally that would put an end to everything else that was going on.
He watched the bird fly away, cawing loudly.
It was lucky - it was free.
He looked around the sky, seeing the natural beauty and feeling the wind tickling his face and blowing through his hair. He hovered in the air for a moment or two, savouring the feeling that he was being given.
It was at a time like this when he fully understood how much the Dark Ace must have suffered in that cell. He was a Sky Knight too, like Aerrow was and he belonged in the sky. It was the same for them all - they only felt at home when flying through the skies of Atmos. So to be deprived of flying and being confined to a small, enclosed space and having restricted light was something truly torturous for Aerrow even to think about, yet alone try to imagine having to go through himself. No wonder Dark Ace had looked at the small stream of light so hopefully, and received the news of his coming death so...Joyfully.
Aerrow watched as the Maya bird suddenly cawed louder, and hovered in the sky; stopped in its flight. It seemed to be waiting for something, and then out of nowhere another one flew to meet it. This new one was beautifully coloured with striking plumage. It had to be female…
He felt a tug on his heart, watching the two birds fly around each other. They started to sing in a duet - such a beautiful sound- and that was when Aerrow understood. They were mates - delighted to be with each other.
It seemed to Aerrow that these birds were so reflective of what he had to do. He had to find Ravess now and let her know that her "mate" was dead. Yet how he wished he didn't have too.
To his left he could see the small outline of her hiding place. Terra Susurria - the Terra of Whispers.
He laughed lightly. Talk about ironic.
Flying down, he watched the terra get closer and closer. He glanced up and saw that the Maya birds appeared to be flying alongside him. They seemed to want to fly to Terra Susurria, too.
"Hopefully not for the same reasons that I am…" Aerrow said to the pair, shaking his head slightly.
"Okay, now I know I'm losing it - talking to birds…" He laughed again, before glancing over again at the bird closest to him - the male, he assumed. It looked back at him with a strange intelligence in its eyes - its reddish brown eyes.
It winked.
He stared at it, shocked, before seeing he was nearly going to crash. He swore and quickly landed properly.
Only just!
He killed the engine and got off his skimmer, before looking into the sky.
The birds were gone.
Aerrow shook his head again, before looking at his surroundings. He had landed on the outskirts of the tiny town, where the market place was, and he knew that if he headed east for several minutes, he would reach the small house that he had given Ravess to hide away in, like she had done so for the past few months.
So he started walking, knowing that as he did so his thoughts would return to haunt him yet again. And he knew exactly which one would haunt him now…
Glancing at the empty sky again, he continued walking and thought about when he had been given the little, yet so important pieces of paper currently nested in his pocket.
*************
Rewind.
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"Aerrow - how nice to see you." Ace grinned, watching Aerrow roll his eyes. "Fine. And there was me thinking that you actually enjoyed our little talks." He laughed lightly, before picking himself of the floor slowly, and making his way over to Aerrow.
"Hello to you too, Ace." Aerrow said, watching the man walk over. He was limping, yet Aerrow could tell that he was forcing himself to limp and not to hobble. And not to show how much pain he was in.
"Well, you're here for it, aren't you?" A sudden question pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked into the taller man's eyes. He looked down and saw that there was paper held tightly in his left hand.
He nodded. "Well, I did say I would be here for it at this time, didn't I?"
Dark Ace smirked, and held out his hand. "My last letter. Well, that sounds poetic. I chose the wrong career - I should've told those recruiting Talons to go away; that my life was destined for poetry."
Aerrow bit back a laugh. He didn't want to - it would have been laughing in the face of Death. It just didn't seem right. He held out his hand to receive the letter instead.
"You know fine rightly Ace that you chose the right career - you were born to fly."
"Ahh, but was I born to become who I am today?" The question caught him off guard.
"Well… If I am honest -" Aerrow started off carefully, and waited for the interruption.
He got it.
"You're going to say no, I wasn't born to become a traitor and to kill everyone." The Dark Ace's lips curled, and he shook his head. "We are born with a destiny, Aerrow - but whether this was indeed mine, I'll never know."
"I don't believe that crap, and you know it, Ace."
"Aerrow, don't believe it, but accept it. And…I want you to know - I am sorry about your father." The words were whispered, and the older dark-haired man hung his head. Aerrow looked at him in shock. The Dark Ace continued, his voice hoarse, "I looked up to him - he was like a father to me. He looked out for me and cared for me more than anyone else had ever done."
"Then why..?" Aerrow asked. He had never heard the man sound so… Vulnerable before. He had heard rumours as to why he had betrayed the original Storm Hawks, but never the actual truth. And now it appeared that he was going to.
"I had too." Dark Ace sighed and ran a hand through his spiky hair. "If I didn't, I was told I would be killed along with everyone on-board the Condor anyway. I was young, stupid - scared. I didn't want to die." He said, with another sigh. "I was too scared to go to Aron -"
"My father?"
Ace nodded. "Yes. I was too scared to go him and say, "Help me" and I was too young to know that all I had to do was tell someone…"
There was a thick and uneasy quiet. Aerrow looked at Ace, and he felt more sorry for him than he had ever done.
"Ace…" He said, looking right into the man's eyes, "I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago, anyway. But let's not talk about it - not now. Give me the letter, and then I -"
"You'll go." There was a tone of finality to the words that were spoken by Ace.
"What?" Aerrow asked, startled.
"I will give you the letter, and you'll leave. And not come back." The older man nodded his head. Aerrow caught sight of a lone tear falling down his face. "I want you to go, and then not come and see me again. This will be our last encounter, Aerrow."
"Ace -"
"Aerrow." The older man crushed the letter into Aerrow's outstretched hand - he had forgotten about it being open and waiting for the letter - and pushed him away, in the direction of the door. "I don't want to see you here again, understood? I've told you everything you need to know. I have nothing left to say to you. My destiny; my life, is over," He ignored the red-haired teenager's reaction; how he opened his mouth in protest, "And yours' is only beginning. I am not to be in it, Aerrow - so go and don't come back…" A pause. "Don't come back." He ran his hand again through his hair.
Aerrow looked at the man, and knew he was serious. And determined, and when like that, he couldn't be forced by any means to chance his mind. So he took in every detail - the spiky black hair, the dark-red eyes, the tall and lean frame and the determined stance. He took everything in - remembered everything.
He let himself be pushed towards the door, and he then knocked loudly on it. Ace looked away; looked down at his feet, the floor - something that wasn't Aerrow.
Aerrow heard the door being opened, and decided that this was his last chance to ask a question he had always thought about.
"Ace - I need to know one more thing."
The man didn't look up. "No, you don't."
"I do." Aerrow insisted, not going through the now-opened door, "I need to know - what's your name? Your real name?" He asked, wondering if he had gone too far.
For a moment Aerrow thought that the man wouldn't answer, when he suddenly lifted his head and looked at him.
"...Adam." He sighed, "Adam Taylor." He looked away again - at the window this time, watching the last rays of the sun go down.
"Thank you…" Aerrow muttered, and before he turned away he said something that made Ace's back stiffen, and unknown to Aerrow - made more tears find their paths down his bruised and bloodied face.
"Good bye, then... Adam." How hard it was for Aerrow not to break down.
And then Aerrow walked out, knowing that that was the last time he would ever see the Dark Ace, Adam Taylor… The last time he would ever see him alive.
The letter was crushed into his hand. Yet he didn't want to look at it.
*************
Fast-forward.
**************
Aerrow walked along a small gravel path, and saw the small house.
The garden had been tended to - lots of roses and other bright and colourful flowers were blooming - and here on this terra it was bright and sunny , such a far cry from the terra Aerrow had just recently left.
He walked up the path and eventually reached the house. His heart was racing; he was dreading knocking the door and coming face to face with her - what would he do?
Yet he had promised. And he was going to honour that promise.
So with great trepidation, he put out a slightly shaking hand and knocked loudly on the old wooden door.
It opened to reveal the sharpshooter with her pink hair tied back. She frowned, peering at Aerrow.
"…Yes?"
"Ravess…" Aerrow felt his tongue trip over the next few words, "Can I come in?
"What… What is it, Aerrow?" She didn't sound annoyed, she sounded…Frightened. His facial expression was scaring her - he seemed so serious and it seemed he was the bearer of bad news…
He gently pushed past her to put a foot into the house itself, and he sighed.
"Ravess, please - I need to talk to you."
*************
Pause.
**************
Well, what do you think? I blame the soundtrack of The Fountain for how depressing this may seem - the music is beautiful, but so sad. I've given the Dark Ace the name "Adam Taylor" for it is something that my close friend Jess and I came up with - we think it suits him. In my other fics, "Only When I Sleep," "Memories of the Past" and "Exploding Crossbows and Guitar Demons" I have named him Rook. That could be a name he gave himself to try and cover up his Cyclonian roots when in the Sky Knight Academy. Got all that? Oh, good. :smile: Now...Review?
Just to clear things up: