I continue with last chapter. I'm thinking a muse for this, who to take… I've got it! Anna!

Anna: Not again.

Me: Hey! I'm not in for torturing my muses, you're the fun part, but if you hate it this much, I'll take someone else.

Anna: Thanks, I really want to rest in peace.

Me: cough rest in pieces cough

Anna: What did you say?

Me: A way to misunderstand RIP.? Don't get me wrong, I respect the dead and think you shouldn't make fun off them, but this one has been kicking at my mind for the last four or so years.

Anna: Looks like I'm staying. (sigh.) Bright Winged Angel, aka Wingy, owns manure.

Me: What? Please, I own the persona of Sothar and his story, but nothing else.

Anna: He is manure.

Me: Why you…! (Attacks Anna.)

"He's in a terrible condition, are you sure you want me to see what I can do? It might not help at all." that was the first thing I heard.

Hi, I'm Sothar, and you're getting to have me as a guide, oh joy.

How the hell did you come into my head? As you may have guessed, you're not talking with kid-Sothar who's a real angel. Bah! Wish I could flush him out the toilet.

Oops, better listen in on the conversation. Of course, the me of that time had tried to listen intently; or would have, if it hadn't been for a coughing fit.

"Oh no, are you feeling okay?" that's Martel, stupid as a goose as she was. On the other hand… she was always so kind and gave me as much attention as her brother… DON'T REGRET YOUR CHOICE!

She placed her cool hand over my hot brow again. Yeah I'm hot, even as a kid and a nephil; wanna play? (Purring and smirking.)

(Me: Hey! Let youngster take over.)

Why? I'm sure the readers love me.

(Me: We'll find out in a review, but I prefer nice one. He has golden eyes, not bloody. If I saw someone with your eyes, I'd run away screaming!)

Suuure… and freaky made me so I'm stolen. Might as well, see you in the notes.

(Me: Arrogant, half, male slut… can you even say that?)

Martel looks at me, at least, I guess it's Martel. The woman before me is the only female in the room… and the only one wearing green… and a skirt…

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Terrible." I admit, I'm feeling like I have dirt all over my insides. "Where's Daddy?"

Martel's face fell and she looks at the blanket on my bed.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know." she whispers, barely audible.

I pat her awkwardly on the head, trying to comfort her. "It… it's okay. How should you know?" tears, nonetheless, starts running down my cheeks. Soon I find myself in her embrace, she's surprisingly strong and comforting.

I cry.

I cry without thought of her hair or our clothes. I know on instinct, that she's just like Mom would have been if she'd stayed, and that I love her already. She's my sister and mother, and I never want to let go off her.

"Martel, we don't have time to wait till he's healthy." Kratos growls. "Let's get going."

"Please don't leave me alone." I sniff when Martel pulls away. "Can't I come with you?"

"Yes, let's just drag a sick child along." Kratos rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, I get into a mad coughing fit and my wings explode from my back. It hurt!

I was surprised. It had never hurt before, they normally just appeared and the made their silent wafting motion. But this time they had ripped through flesh and cloth.

"Ow…" I moaned. I looked over my shoulder at my wings, and my eyes widened; they'd never been small and black before. Big and golden, lots of times; middle and green, even more often. But never small and black… and bloody.

That scared me; my blood was dripping from my feathers.

Martel seemed to realize what the expression on my face meant, be cause she hugged me again, carefully not touching the wings.

"It's all right," she muttered. "it's all right…"

Kratos sighed exasperated. "Martel…" he growled. "You're too kind for your own good."

"Isn't it adorable?" Yuan whispered, earning a glare from Mithos.

Third person… because it's easier.

Martel slowly let go off Sothar, searching his face for any sign of, well, anything.

She found nothing.

A few days later…

Martel had, somehow, convinced everyone in the small group to in town till Sothar was healthy… which he was surprisingly soon.

"Okay, you can be a tagalong." Yuan sighed, rolling his eyes at the golden eyed who child looking innocently up at him. According to Martel, those eyes were absolutely adorable. He couldn't for his death see what was so cute about them. They were rather pretty, he had to admit that, but they weren't cute. The boy looked cute when he had his hair in his eyes and wouldn't get it out, so he pouted to show just how stubborn he was about cutting it.

Martel once asked why… the child told her it was the one thing he'd gotten from his mother, and that his father had always liked it the best. Then he had cried, making Martel hug him.

Yuan felt a tug on his pants and looked down. Sothar handed him a drawing he'd gotten from, seemingly, nowhere.

Yuan took it and almost choked when he saw it. It was beautiful!

It was a perfect portrait of Martel, sitting by a table doing some paperwork, a light frown creasing her elegant brow. He could see a fire going behind the table, it was filled correctly with all the right colours, giving the distinct impression of actual fire.

"Where… where did you learn to do this?" Yuan said, almost choking on the words.

"Nowhere, I just can." the boy shrugged. "What do you think? I wanted you to look at it before I showed it to Martel."

"It's beautiful, I'm sure Martel will love it." Yuan smiled and gave the boy his drawing back.

"Thanks!" Sothar flashed him a smile. "Oh, I've also made one of you, wanna see it?"

Yuan nods, and watch the boy pull forth a new paper.

He's on it; fully ready for battle but only training. He has a confident smirk on his lips, standing in a position as though he just landed from a back-flip.

"Holy mother of the Goddess!" Yuan gasps. "This is… indescribable! You've never seen me train, and yet you know how I fight?"

"I guess. I've seen your weapon, and I've seen you in your armour, so I guess that's how you fight." the boy looked a bit nervous up at him. "Martel says it's beautiful, but I want to hear your opinion."

"It's…" Yuan was left speechless, but managed to continue. "Martel's right, it's a masterpiece… just like the one with Martel." he send the boy a soft smile.

Sothar send him a grateful grin, the hugged the half-elves legs and ran off to give Martel her drawing.

Later drawing were switched so the group had drawing of each other, even though they all kept one of themselves.

Me: Huh, that's long enough. Sorry for there not being enough plot stuff.

Anna: Whatever, we were fighting. (Stands with a comb like it was a rapier.)

Me: Yup. (Picks of another comb and a duel begins.)

Sothar: (Walks in on the scene.) Oh, bitch fight. I'd like to see this.

Me & Anna: WHAT DID YOU CALL ME? (Pushes both combs down his throat.)

Sothar: (Tries to say ouch, but can't thanks to the combs. He then sends us a glare.)

Anna: Lighten up, demon boy. You insulted us… and she's the authoress, so she can do anything she wants to.

Me:… Except throw my brother out the window on third floor…

Anna and Sothar:… Review, please.