Me: So... I said there were two other characters you have yet to meet. See, remember when Dino mentioned having a sister? Well, this is where she comes in. x3

Jkonna: -w- But I wanna save diga-Diinoooo...

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 2: Change of Scales

Dina

"...So then, anyways, after that all died down, the princess said it was okay if I keep gardening, but I could only do it if she came with me. At least, I think that's what she said. Joanie had to translate, and, I mean, she's Joanie. Her accent is about as static as thunder gets!"

The chipper face peeping toward me from under the screen of strange electronic lights glances in such a way that I do not feel as if he is so far away, on another island entirely, inside of bricks of rainbow that confine him to a castle, a welcoming castle of warm and fluffy hearts, that still holster him up and out of my reach, out of my line of sight. Although it should seem unable to render, a small, pinched, brunette face fills my sight, tanned—extra tanned—cheeks puffy and bright of air, freckles poking out the little details on his figure, and a beige cap donning his head and keeping a major assessment of chocolaty curls in check. His neck slides down and cuts off just where the brushing of a doglish-furred collar of a coat begins, but the strange imagery providing of this sight of Todd, my foster brother, is cut to the shard of his head alone.

The doglish culture spoken of pertains toward furry although bipedal creatures. The last I had heard of them, their short and stubborn heir to the throne, Princess Amurr, had snuck into a fossil tournament alongside her best friend and forever companion, a blonde and tall nomadistinian named Joanie. She and her have been reunited with their royal family and friends by now in the kingdom island of Nomadistan, and Todd has lived there for some time now. It apparently does remarkable twinges to his health.

My dear foster brother of sunny stature had been... under dire situations some time ago. He had suffered quite a, um, wound, that proved to be fatal and seemed unable to heal in any which way, but somehow the docile creatures of Nomadistan upon taking him in have seen lovely changes to his composure. Worry swelling to the wound of his own pain has fluttered to a close on my side. How wonderful it is to know he will... surely be okay in the end.

"Todd..." My voice, now. Small. Quiet. Icy—but Rupert calls it a soft, kind, wintry icy, not bitter. I do not know; maybe it is bitter... "T-Todd... are you sure... y-you do not mean something other than 'static thunder,' or is that correct terms..?" Was there another word that is supposed to fit that blank? Lightning? Is her accent lightning static, not thunder?

A chuckle seeps into my body and yanks converation onward. Todd taps his beige cap and fiddles at the lid so that waves pop over it. "No, what the heck are you talkin' about, Dina? You crazy, crazy girl!" My silvery cheeks redden. I almost forgot they are... scales, now... not pale-as-pale-can-be skin... "It's static thunder, of course! Who ever thought of lightning being electric? Geez. Well, don't worry about it. Just be glad I'm here to fix your errors!" I am glad, that someone is here to correct me and configure my... flaws.

There are multiple people in my life, now, that can do that. And they do not hurt me when they do. Which is very different.

Somewhere deep inside of me, a voice stirs. Dina... it's okay. It's okay, I promise. A green head donned in feathers expands into existence and situates her feathery body beside me, fluffing back wings and peering in purple pools of eyes. We're here for you now, and that past is over. Aah...

Y-yes... She is Nyra, of nycto ace origins. A green-feathered creature currently shrunken of a form, flitting her orbs birdlike and relentlessly as to poke and prod every crevice hidden within the shadows of the ovoid, open-windowed chamber we ensconce within. The thick bars of sunset penetrating squares of open windows seek from all possible corners, still in a strangely systematic, geometric pattern of wooden pylons through each block of fluttering sunlight. A penthouse, Joe had labeled it, and I have used it, many times, to serve for a name. The fossil fighting master, Joe Wildwest, lives here, and now, so do I. Although the memories remain untouched in the very epicenter of my frozen mind, and I have remained amnesiac, and my faintest memories remain to consist of the parents of my foster brother and their... not-all-too-kind selves before disposing of me, should my endpoint be here—Joe was a part of these broken pieces, and he recalls me well enough.

Apparently there had been a point where he had found my childish figure... in this strange form of silvery and white scales dressed in orange and purple twinges, my third-mentioned waves of orange-silvery hair brushing over and around me, in this strange form where a tail sits behind me and... wags... at altogether appropriate spaces, apparently Joe had seen me like... this, at some point. As if my other figure could... switch betwixt the two of these.

It throbs to think of. Attempting to excavate old memories on such a barren, lost wasteland does not work very well, sadly. Gently shaking my head, I refocus to the tiny, light screen where the brunette on board salutes and raises his voice: "I SAID, IT'S REALLY NICE HERE! Geez, Dina! Where did your attention go? It's like I was talking to Flower. It's like I was talking—to—Flower!" He refers to the red-spiked quadrupedal shaped like a deep prune who scathingly shoots back his own words. Every time. It... brings another face to mind...

Oh, you will not get me in there. Take back your dirty, cracked mind and keep it away from me.

Reyna.. She rears her black-scaled head and snarls through pylons of teeth that crack at the edges like a whip. Ah...

Oh, come on, Reyna! We've been over this! Please don't terrorize Dina! Without the other vivosaurs here to... er... protect me—they are quite efficient at it, after calling me "pushover" and them "babysitters," it all came together—Nyra is quite on her own at countering the grayscale biped, her thick legs corded, strong, and stubborn. Although she has one weak spot.

He is not even connected to her, but the miniature, brown, white-haired raja, miraculously tiny, tiny enough to be plucked and held even by my small arms, materializes inside and offers his own word. Rey-Reeeyyyy! C'mon, let's be nice today! You can do it! You can do iiit! His peppy tone pulsates deep in her bones.

But Reyna is almost unstoppable. We were nice yesterday. A hot-breathed sigh. What if I don't want to be nice today!

Somewhere in that jumble, Todd squeaks again and directs my attention toward the small, green-lined device clamped tight in my crystalline-white hands. "They're so loouuddd! Haaa, just like I remember them, before getting moved here!" His whole situation was worrisome, bu the paleness has fled from his skin, and his grin widely stretches to address the emotions within.

"Todd... U-um..."

"Yeah, Dina? Dude, shoot. You won't miss. Just say stuff!"

"A-ah, o-okay... u-um... D-do you feel better... n-now that you are here?"

"Me? Oh, totally. I guess you can't see with the screen..." The excited, mellow tone alight with a small flame of adventure abruptly drops off. Soon, a resonating CRAACCKK fills his screen and chips against mine, zinging up my arms, tracing my features, embedding in my heart, when, from the view on the stone floor, facing stark upwards, a slouching, green-dressed figure waves down toward me and points, points at the line that once cut from his neck to one of his knees, or perhaps both of them... I-I forgot... the lines are too faint to enforce memory... H-how can I stand to forget details when my entire life before Todd and his family is cut off from all use—simply not there?

A snort edged in hot air tickles my neck. Stupid. We all forget things. Don't expect everything to just freaking be there—it doesn't work like that. I'm blind and deaf, don't you go forgetting, I can't possibly remember what I see and hear through telepathic connections between vivosaurs and people, and my overall vivosaur conceptions, before going out into the real world, and even there I don't remember the feelings or tastes or touches or smells. I can't. You can't. Stupid. Get over it.

I... o-okay, Reyna...

Unsure how it works, somehow, Todd must hear from my vivosaurs through the technology. "She's not that stupid, Reyna!" His tanned skin puffs around the cheeks and their edges that had once gone bony, made his face angular and sallow in the bending of light as an elder, waxy candle. Seeing the color return flushes my face and draws a smile, and my gaze returns to the damage that had come to him and seems to have passed. The epicenter, his stomach, where all had returned to, still, as he rips past his green-striped and -buttoned shirt, pointing toward the pulsating point, it has not left.

"Y'see, nomadistinians are soooooo cuddly and reliable and affectionate and some of them don't understand Vivaldi so they all go woof-woof in their language and man, it's soooo cuuuuute!" He begins prancing about the chamber and accidentally steps on his device, causing boy and screen to scatter wildly. Either he or the device smacks against bookshelf. Please let that have not been him. Whether Todd or not, he resumes his barefooted position of hovering over the screen and offering chipper grins. "So it, like, really helps. I don't remember what kind of healing they call it, but man, it works. Like so well. I almost want to live here forever. Buuut then I might not—wait I can!"

SsscchhhlluuUMP.

Boy hits ground and latches upon device, his curls of tousled, brown hair and freckles scooting closer. "We're gonna host this tournament sometime soon... called the... uh... oh right, the Nomadii Cup, and it's gonna be so great and you have to make everyone come. I heard some other people were gonna show up from other islands, too... like... there's this Doug guy, I think his last name is Digging or Diggin or something, and anyways he looked reaaaally interested to who was signing up... Wonder why. Weirdo. So, well, you have to come visit and sign up soon!" Tossing back his dress of green-spun shirt-and-pants covered in the silky, soft coat smothering him on all sides, Todd grins again as his eyes sparkle. I feel that... mine do as well. Emotion flourishes in there, and it must reveal how nice this will be, deep in my soul. I have not seen my foster brother for quite a time, besides on these devices... His health is rapidly improving, which gives me joy, but... I have stayed here with Joe and... with Rupert as well. Torn told me it would be a good idea. Torn is not here right now... he will be, soon.

"So, anyways, sorry to move on from such an awesome topic, but it's not like I know all the inside info." Boisterous and proud, Todd casually slumps his shoulders and adjusts from the length of where he will hold his device, allowing only the head with the beige cap and the top of his neck to display, he goes on. "Soooooo..." Eyes burn with a new frenzy, and it worries me. It truly worries me. What is going to—"How many times has Rupert kissed you?"

"Wh-wh-wh...wh-what?" It is all I manage to squeak as my figure suddenly takes control and slumps over powerlessly, breathlessly. Ho-how... H-how d-do I... a-answer... th-th-that... How am I supposed to... I-it is not like I can count all that we—

SLAM.

"Eeeep!" I jump in place and am quickly held in place by pale, black-gloved hands without the finger-part open and clutching me tightly, arms dressed in the rich red of a coat intercepting and hugging me closely. The yellow orbs from an angular face I find qu-quite cute turn to stare coldly toward the giggling, smirking boy on the screen. They... they have a history.

"Todd, you are not supposed to ask such questions of a lady."

His fitful wave of giggles tightens in his chest until hiccups emerge like islands. "Y-yeaaah! Especially your lady!" More laughter. My cheeks singe of red and my hands pull up to cover them. I have lost all concept of what to say, what to do, and all that happens is he coolly faces Todd and responds with, "Especially my lady."

I did not expect him to say that. Somewhere inside of me, my legs lose the ability to function and I must be held tighter in order to not fall over. White-scaled toes attempt to stand, and each foot horrendously fails until the boy beside me decides to gently place me on the ground and join my side. His fingers cup over mine, then remove the device from my shaking hold. "Todd..." He shakes his head of white hair, the soft stands—and I know they are quite soft—tracing down to his chin. "Pester your furry friends; do not come so close as to harm Dina."

"Heeey, I wasn't gonna hurt her! I just wanted to ask her a simple question!" His face pours all it can into a childish, wide-eyed pout. Brown orbs attempt to accept the boy into him. "Ruuuppeeerrtttt..."

"It will never succeed."

"Awwwww..."

He sighs softly, his icier tone asking, "Did you truly think it would?"

"Of course! I totally thought you'd let me off easy."

"Then I am done with you." Click. The screen dyes black, and all connection with Todd has currently been cut off. For a moment, breath stirs within us, neither entity speaking, my own lungs held by icy claws of burning, trembling embarrassment that has ransacked me and left me barren. My tail flickers behind me like a flag of surrender; my head ducks toward the ground; my hands fall to the wooden floorboards and clutch fragments that do not exist. Fluffy waves of soft orange bangs cascade over my forehead, stretching and prowling through the edges of my peripheral vision. Once, my eyes had been brown, before this change: now they shine a strange amethyst color.

Calmly he perches the device on one side and inches it past, soon laying his hands, his warmer hands, over my scaly ones. Sometimes I wonder why he is... okay with it... why it is okay that I am not vivaldi like he and Todd and Joe, that I am, I do not know what I am, but it is not vivaldi it is scaled, scaled like Reyna only not as dark and I am not blind or deaf. She is the only vivosaur I am aware of to have patched senses; my other vivosaurs themselves seeming cleanly-knit in comparison.

Whether he senses it or not, perhaps sees it in my shaded eyes, Rupert gives a little tug to my fingers, and, when I accept, he lifts our combined hands and searches my small face. Yellow orbs cast a soft glow upon me. Finally, I flick a small glance toward him, allow it to surface, for the ripples to resolve, to silently look back toward him. He... does not feel comfortable around most others. As a... gifted child, he had always been surrounded by others of whom saw him as a catalyst and sped in frenzied emotions at him. Although... he is polite as well. The thinnest ring of humility one can learn and train their body to force, but still a politeness. It is funny... how someone who could be so lonely only wanted another to see them, and yet they forced people out with a frozen barrier all the same. I question my situation... why I am here...

No words are uttered; he draws me close and weaves his red-cloaked arms around me, holds me tight. I mimic his movements quietly. Our faces come close; his breath feels oddly relaxing when it blows over me. Yellow orbs watch over me, and he murmurs, "Dina... you are safe. You are safe now."

He is not talking about Todd. He is not referring toward the silly foster brother of mine that I have cherished for many years, who has, because of me, come under his skin, perhaps just a little bit: still there. He is not talking about the past. He is not talking about Reyna or my vivosaurs or my pained awkwardness, my flaws or his talents, or... any of the hardships that may have crossed his seas.

I feel safe, here. Safe... to be held by this single one. It is simple; it is happy. Happy is nice.

When happy feelings occur... it is nice to be able to share them with someone who understands. It is nice to... have this boy by my side. I whisper back: "Yes...

"U-um..." His orbs silently watch me, but they do not ask what is wrong: curiosity glows within. He will... wait. He has... waited before. "Y-you can... feel safe, too..."

As far as I know, Rupert has not smiled for a... very long time. He does not smile now, nor have I ever seen his lips turn. But his eyes will glow; and a warm feeling wraps a bow through my heart. "Thank you, Dina..." His soft reply. When two people have gone through a vast ordeal together, simple words begin to mean more than their tiny phrasings. There is more, now; there will always be more, now.

My face stammers red; something twinges tightly in my chest. Frantically purple orbs swoop for the windows, then duck the other direction, peeking abruptly and awkwardly toward a position in between. Cheeks flame. I want to... I want to... Courage... Courage... A deep breath; air fills my lungs in one big breath. Somewhere behind the figure beside me in the red coat, fingers outfit a tighter hold. I silently count to three in my head; I am not good at counting, but I can manage that number. Deep breath... deep breath... and... a-and...

I dive in very close; his breath washes over me; orbs warmly seek me; I come in contact with his li—

HOLY FUCK!

I nearly splatter. Rupert ignores the telepathic yell, his hand gently cupping my cheek, pulling me closer anyways as my scaled face burns. My heart beats in a rapid motion I am sure he must feel, as my hands holds onto him tightly and the emotions inside melt me out. The breath that spilled out so suddenly grows easy, natural, simple, taming my docile self just as easily as it had sprung earlier. I do not perceive how much of the jumbled shouting had continued until Rupert pulls me back slightly and his gaze meets a lemon yellow that is similar to his, only flaming.

You damn Rupert. I fucking hate you.

Wait...

Yes, Torn, I am well aware of your strong dislike of me.

Torn... his...

You fucking tried, man. I'll give you that much.

Why is his... his eye...

I doubt you will show gratitude for it.

It hits me: Torn! Y-your eye! It is not yellow!

Dull, just-as-rosy pink orbs stare at me and blink harmlessly. Hi, Dina. Can you stop liking Rupert already?

T-Torn! Your eye! Wh-why is it so p-pink—a-a-and your... s-skin! Y-your skin... y-your scales a-are so... blue... n-not red... they had been red...

Pausing, the white-haired boy warmly pressed against me peers lightly my way. His soft murmur spreads through my mind via the connection with Torn. Yes. I have... given him some changes I thought he might like. I had told you earlier I wanted to borrow him and Trikko, yes? My first idea was to change this dimetro into a lugmos, but he didn't accept such a thought. He demanded to stay in this form. As did Trikko. It seems they are used to their bodies and do not wish to change as Nyra has from her nycto form to the ace.

Did he... he did th-this for me... d-did he not... You... a-ah...

You mean very much to me, Dina. Do not fret. It only took somewhat longer to find them silver instead of gold fossil heads. It is... not much of a plight. I thought you might like it; they certainly wanted to change their coloring and perhaps become slightly stronger, even if super revival was too much for their small brains to handle.

I DO NOT HAVE A FUCKING SMALL BRAIN.

Fanned sail and all, the now-blue quadrupedal flickers his forked, red tongue and titters. Trikko was right behind me, dammit. I think he got shy. GEEZ, TRIKKO. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU CHANGED THAT MUCH. YOU'RE STILL BLUE.

From somewhere behind, a stout, low voice mutters: It is that much. He gives a disgruntled snort, like an elderly curmudgeon would, and does not move from his hiding spot. I have come to believe that he resides just behind the wood that encircles the tidy escalator, the single exit from the penthouse Joe claims as his home, as do I now... a-and Rupert, as well... To be without him would feel... wrong... and a little scary... The nightmares might not go away if he is not that; that is a test I never wish to configure.

Dina, are you daydreaming about that damn boy again? Pulpy rose orbs come in contact with my emotions and he angrily props his claws upon wood, thuck—thuck—thuckkking his way through tiny holes. Like a mammalian creature, unlike the reptilian vivosaur he is, the fanned face of blueberry shivers toward me and scrapes at the sky-colored bending in his fan. Darker lines crisscross in other areas; his body shivers in an effort to change his coloring to red again. Don't daydream about him or I swear I'll fucking die. Adventurous and rowdy: that is the Torn I have grown up to the side of.

The stouter tone from beneath the shadowy safety of hugging the wall peeps out again: Torn, if she likes someone, you shouldn't be so consistent about ruining his life. He and Dina are well-suited for one another and their personalities alone relatively match. These facts, this logic, proves the feelings of romance and affection fit perfectly fine in here, so you need to grow up and accept it. His snort grows louder. Millions of years old and look at this nefarious pest.

Torn smacks his head sidelong to the air and lowers the sky of an eyelid to cut his birthday-cake eye in half. Says the bitch who's embarrassed because of his primary-color candy-cane shit.

Fine. Be that way.

Small and simple and compact, just as this smaller version of my dear dimetro currently stands, a triple-horned face fanned in sky-blue and cherry-red flickers out toward his audience. Like deadly freckles, one sticks above his nose, the other two near his ears. Clawed, stout paws scramble in a flushed fashion to escape from the open air and embed himself within me, his forelegs scrabbling for a hold on me and his breath thick on my stomach. Torn's mean. I don't need logic to prove that.

I'm your best friend, Trikko! I thought we agreed I'm allowed to get away with this kind of crap! Don't tell me you don't serve it daily too! His tricera pal continues to mutter angry Trikko words nobody but him seems to comprehend, too low a pitch for one of usual hearing to catch, and as abruptly as he had formed, the weight on me vanishes and is replaced by the tot form of Torn, who uses tiny claws to pinch at me.

Rupert still clasps his arms over me: one rests over my cheek, the other, my silvery back. The one further out retreats in order to pluck Torn by the nape in his reptilian neck and situate him on a nearby floorboard. Sunny orbs watch me peculiarly, as if in question to what I thought about the makeovers my vivosaurs now own. I watch their childlike plodding, their tiny yips and yelps, their scratching at the back of the other in the vain attempt that the original color lies underneath: and it is... silly. A giggle bubbles and spills from my mouth; my eyes shy for the brown, earthy tones below, and Rupert places his hands over my shoulders, his pale and angular face leaning in close to me, white locks of hair flicking as he moves.

"It... gives me joy... to hear your laugh," in his little response, such a whisper, "that I am the reason you laughed. That you smiled because of me..." His golden orbs drop from me and set awash upon the tones of the sunset as it dips into the curtain of seas to come back, as it always will, tomorrow. Night approaches. Stars quickly show themselves like chips of stone in the sky, an inky darkness squeezing out and melting into the horizon. Reyna, catching sight from my own vision via her telepathic vivosaur assets, lets out a long, slow sigh at the sight of dark netting and blooming. She enjoys this.

Her warmth catches cold and hard in my chest. A small cough erupts inside of me, punching against my stomach, my chest, my white palms touching silvery cloth of skin and feeling the fabric-like substance sink and grow numb within me. Deep breaths, the words flow, deep breaths.

People can be scary. Darkness can be scary too. I must be a fearful person. Er, um... whatever-I-am. The Huricans, parents of Todd Hurican, may as well have been the creators of both icy contacts inside of me, but... maybe not. An abyss of nothingness comes before them, only tapped in corners where Joe prodded and attempted to resurrect things I am supposed to associate with myself and feel a rainbow of emotions toward. It is hard to feel a rainbow of emotions toward a black, empty block. Perhaps that is why I am... e-emotional. Maybe...

Dina, if it hurts to think about, stop fucking thinking about it. I swear, how many times have I told you?You're a pushover but does that mean your own nonexistent memories get to shove you around too? See. This. This is why Trikko and I exist.

O-or maybe not. I gently shake my head. Perhaps I am simply turning on the heavier side of things at the moment...

Rupert gently encloses one of his pale hands around mine, and we rise. I doubt he pertains any reasons to particularly enjoy nighttime, as well. A small filter shines over the yellow orbs, it named concerned, sympathetic; he gently steers me back from the darkened splotches of windows and toward the back area of the penthouse, where thin wood strips of sliding doors procure, and where a small assortment of bedrooms, behind each door, lies. Joe had told me that he had these constructed some time ago for visitors or specific people that would stay with him. Like if he... found me again, I suppose, after the blank slot of amnesia, whatever had removed me in the first place. Placing his free hand on the carved handle, looped in elaborate designs, the fingerless glove on the hand of the boy beside me gleams a mesh, as if his hand is trapped on the entrance to the small chamber just ahead. The moment passes; the door ssshhhhffs open; we enter within the quiet confines.

Tacking of vivosaur footprints, one of willowy quality and the other more the stumps of trees, a body adorned in a long fan once the color of charming flames waddles in silently, Torn stopping abruptly on his paws to itch at his blueberry head. He has swooned somewhat taller to act more of a plush-like size than a mini that can harmlessly sit on top of me with those baby claws, and behind him, the fanned face of Trikko, alternating in fiery and cyan colors, waddles through as well. He flexes his blue back and observes how red instead of blue, a darker blue, the majority of his body has adjusted to. The rest of it, once a moonlit pale, has now resurrected in the surreal blue.

Torn, I still don't like this.

Fucking good for you, Trikko.

Something shuffles near my ear, and a mint-green disc—medal—flips through the air, morphing into the feathery green-and-white Nyra it had been before. You boys! she squeaks. I had been out as well until your presences caused me to feel safer dispersed. A soft, disgruntled caw flicks from her poised feathers. When will you learn to be more careful...

First the fiery one. Fuck careful.

Then Trikko. I assure you, this was all the dope's fault to my side.

Of course it was. Nyra teasingly narrows her royal purple orbs.

It was! Do I listen to anything other than the facts?

Nyra, if I take all the blame, you should date me.

Date you? I have... never seen her feathers grow so hot and stifled: red, embarrassed. U-uum... But you did to it, then!

Yes. I did. His grin curls over as smug, but his heart is not into it anymore. His trim features sag, the fan kicking over the side in his posture. Did that... did those words... what did they mean? What is this "date?" Y-yes, as... sadistic as it is... I do not understand these terms... Torn once told me, one time ago, that Rupert had taken my hand because he had emotions for me, emotions I had no sense of that very first time, I only thought of it as a sort of motion friends would... commit to. Oh... how embarrassing of me...

As if sensing my unease, Rupert continues to pull me from the jumpy vivosaurs and releases once we reach the sagging, therefore comforting couch to the side of the room, where the quilt whose original whereabouts I do not know lies folded atop the edge, and the brown fabric sinks me into the plush composure as I lay beside Rupert. His focus lowers toward the boots always donned upon his figure, to which he slips the elaborately-carved brown shoes off. I never would have known he wore fuzzy, red socks lined in white trim beneath, if I was not myself. They match his attire. Drawn up beside him, my gaze flicks over the composure I have become to recognize so well in the amount of memories I do pertain: the soft, white hair pressed up against my head, his yellow orbs watching me silently at all times, the pale skin and blue collar attached to the top of his red coat, the white stripe down the middle and edging the very bottom of it, how the fabric over his arm starts red and ends in cuffs of large, deep, dark blue circles, and his puffy, white pants striped in red I always found very... cute... And his socks as well. He is... cute to me...

Reyna excretes herself from me and lands a rather large stain on the ground, her dark head and red eyes peering angrily into the darkness she cannot interpret, not because it is late but because of her blindness and deafness that make it impossible without the assistance a vivosaur owns that she cannot always use in the outside world. Beside her, a tiny stain of brown, shivering hair of long, to-his-tail white fronds spiked in few areas of yellow and red thorns, Aladee the raja stays beside her and grins. Sighting Torn, he confusedly strays back, fearing the new color change. When he eyes Trikko, his brown face alights in color and he fumbles back against the blind and deaf krypto he is close to and therefore finds comfort in, whether she can or cannot see and hear what may be sneaking up on her.

Out from one of his pockets, a blue medal hits the wooden paneling below. After that falls a white-tinged one, then another blue, then one of yellow. He told me that is the new one. While the other three precedents morph into much smaller versions of their selves, the yellow-tinged one continues to sit quietly, alone; it reminds me of Aladee before he began to excitedly show off his inner colors. Perhaps she will do better, too.

The first of his three that do show is the, as she is called, mapo queen herself, her bipedal body lined of dark spikes and one curling just over a royal blue eye, the other shining valiantly in the darkness; the rest of her body sparkles in a deep blue aura. She follows up to where Nyra flits and calls her down. They are close, I have noticed. After her comes an elder-looking, pale blue creature of stick-like figurine named Gyntis, and I believe an e-raptor. After him is the final, tiny, chipper Sunny, having used a miraculous fossil like Nyra and Mistress, only they had shared one and Sunny did not, her tiny, yellow, finned marple self just as small as Aladee is on a regular time.

"Dina..?" He softly calls for me; my purple orbs touch him from where I rest beside him. "Dina... I know you do have many fears, but you are strong in... other ways. Do not let your flaws cut you down. I will always... be with you... for as long as I can." I... o-of course he is worried for me...

"I know of relentless, unruly foster parents from the only past you can remember and... truly terrifying creations that possess another before deciding to drop the act, form into a vivosaur..." He shakes his head. I feel the touch above me. "It cannot be easy, but... I will not allow you to give up..."

Zongazonga. Whatever caused my loss of memory and Joe at that time revolves around him. It had happened some years ago: Joe found him, he possessed Joe, Joe spent years attempting to regain his body and did not until I had come into the picture along with Todd and Rupert and Pauleen as well, she is boisterous like the first but kind, a kindling flame, and only when Joe did regain his body did Rupert lose his to this creature: this... Ancient, it is called. Vivosaurs from the start of time that caused all other beings to exist here.

Apparently their souls loiter around in our world, waiting for either their bodies to become fossilized and be dug up by some poor soul, or for one to pass by them... so that they can... take over them.

Yes; Zongazonga falls under "truly terrifying creations." He was not very nice. I think he does not exist any longer; I trust he is not around now to... h-hurt someone else. H-honestly, my entire life as far as I can remember for a wide majority was not very nice. It is... beginning to recover now. Perhaps alongside Rupert and Torn and all of the kind and happy people in the world I live in, I will learn how to find my peace, just as any soul should be able to do.

"Rupert..?"

"Dina..."

"I... feel safe with you... e-even when it is scary."

He silently eyes me; the feeling of Rupert beside me brings a new rush of warmth. "Do you... truly feel this way about me? I can hardly believe it..." About to look away, my squeak causes his eyes to wash over me again.

"But it—but it is true, and it is real, and y-you can believe it!" I have noticed that Rupert never raises his voice at a soul, but it plunges icily against those he dislikes. Sometimes mine raises in a squeak, but that is as far as I can manage before the sound tumbles in and over. "Please do not feel like something this... i-important to m-me... is..."

The warmth his eyes gives off reminds me of a smile. I have never seen the tenderhearted boy proffer a smile. To see he himself truly feel the rush to... react like so: I can hardly imagine what sort of world that might be. The feeling in his gaze reminds me of a beam, although it does not quite capture the motion, it is as close as I have seen thus so far.

Thus so far...

"You are the most important thing in my life, Dina." He sighs gently. "Of course, you are also... the only thing in my life. I suppose it could be seen as mandatory, in such case, but your... childlike glee... is a lot for me. You are soft-spoken and... cute."

"Y-you are cute," I stutter.

I lose sight of Rupert for he has come too close to me for my gaze to reflect upon him and configure whether or not I-I made him blush. It is hard to... catch a strong look toward someone when they are... u-uh...

DAMMIT. WHY KISS HER FOR THAT?

A suitable pause draws out before Rupert responds: I will do so when I wish to.

You guys kiss too much... Torn grumbles a long string of words that are blotted out by Trikko who raises his voice an octave and yells incomprehensible gibberish to draw out the noise.

Nyra then finds this the perfect moment to utter a comeback.

DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT NOW, OF ALL TIMES, NYRA? DAMMIT! IF I KISSED YOU ON A DATE, THAT'S A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT TOPIC! The slump in his sail has vanished. Trikko utters something about how he has replenished hopes since Nyra obviously considered the kiss prior to mentioning the plausible outcome. I'm done with you idiots. Geeez.

Torn, you'll never be done with me.

Shut up, Trikko.

The duo childishly intervenes with one another as they tend to do. Their... "arguments" oddly seem to bring them closer... s-so I am not too worried... Thoughts brood inside of me, small remnants of the memories that I have flourished and do recall: quite vividly, in the special extremities. My fingers, warmed by the one beside me, hold fast to the boy of cold shell and warm, gentle heart, the one who I have grown to trust so deeply in our time come together. Those memories... pristine or dangerous as they may be, are... momentous to me; a great, startling warmth resonates from there that I cling upon, as I do with the physical version to my side.

He has... been by my side through a lot, if the memories I do own are as logical and correct as I am sure they are, a-as sure as I am that Torn has a black language affinity; and I have been by... his side through as much turmoil. These catharses that have come to dominate our lives, both of structural pain and whimsical beauty, each of... interesting and generous measures, are... very special to me, harmful or less. If it... is not enough of a setback in the mentioning and depicting of the Zongazonga ancient and... m-my foster parents, no other words needed, please, as well as... the father of Rupert himself. Qu-quite the enigma.

Enigma...

Gently shaking my waves of orange-tinged hair, I nuzzle closer to the one beside me and feel... safe, that it is him I am allowed to... be this close with. This brownie of a sofa upholsters us, snuggles us away from the cold, hard earth of reality below, holds us underneath the dark of the inky sky. At once, there had been a time where I only saw Rupert in this frame of daylight; I had first met him in the subdued world pledged by black.

Although... life morphs changes into people. If these "truly terrifying creations" concur and concur... w-well... Shaking my head, I strive for other memories to delve into, other than those. Now that I do have other memories, I can... seek those happy times. And they follow me around in pockets: Torn, Trikko, Rupert. A rainbow of others gleam in my sight and accompany me. It is... nicer, now. Much nicer. An interlude of silence, a tepid silence that blooms in my heart, fills me: here beside the white-haired boy I have found to be this close to me. It is a calming silence.

Rupert presses his lips close to my ear, causing my scaled skin to heat, and whispers:

"Dina...

Before I presume he has nothing to add toward it and the heart inside of me burns, he adds quietly, "Do you wish to sleep tonight; or do you wish to stay awake?"

"We have..." My soft tone fits nicely beside him; small things to cherish that I can hold close to me. "um... slept for the... p-past week... c-can we stay up tonight, please?"

Warm breath coalescing unto me:

"Of course."

Each day, the nightmares that resulted after amnesia have begun slowly settling in and taking fiercer, more solid formations that refuse to leave my mind; Rupert tends to waken me from the slumber early as it begins to show on my features a-and my disturbance happens to shine a waking light on him in the midst of black night, although even those assets have begun to prolong. If I... had it as I wished, I would attempt avoiding rest as long as I could—a tactic I did indeed attempt numerous times, tending to last at least a clean, two weeks—but the golden orbs sparkling over me, of all entities, understands how unhealthy that would be and does not wish I to grow weary from continuous deprivation, as much as I wish he would allow me to break away from such wise standards. I... do not like the nightmares very much.

"Rupert..."

"Dina?" His warmth traces upon my chillier figure. My... Rupert... never seems to show any signs of discomfort from the touch I provide, the warmth I lack to give off. He seems to take pleasure in knowing that I physically, palpably feel better just being around him.

"I do. I do... feel safe. O-our lives are... much to take in, at times... b-but I do feel safe..." Because I cannot help it, I hastily tack on, "D-do you think that all of the disturbances that have happened are all connected?"

Feeling his head methodically arc up and down in the slightest nudge comforts me. "Perhaps..." A pause, one of charged emotion ready to pounce. "No... matter how dangerous these affairs may come to be, I wish to... protect you, if I can. To... understand you..." The glow of his orbs ekes out from me until I cannot feel them and presume he has looked away or perhaps closed his eyes. "You are very special to me."

Because I do not know what to say, and the words never come to me as they can toward him, I stutter some embarrassing phrase and mumble choppy blocks of letters. He does not laugh—n-never heard even a suggestion of what sort of happy sound that may be. Still, I feel... very warm... to be held by him. And it... traces a little smile on my face anyways.

At some point, I cannot tell when, my mind only able to comprehend the boy, this Rupert, he, of all others, nestled beside me: Torn rests himself by my side and comments of how weird I look now and how Rupert should hate me because I am not vivaldi-looking now, like him. How they are silvery scales, white limbs, light orange hair with the wispy bangs and the sidelong strands, the markings encircling my elbows and knees, the tip of my otherwise white tail, and all of the extra purple markings. And then he adds about how my chest is orange and attempts to use another of his strange wordings to ensnare Rupert.

Dina, I apologize for this now, but Torn is a true imbecile.

Somewhere in the distance, eyes shining of a faraway look into a true meaning of life, Trikko comments that I know. I've known for a very long time. No need to repeat Torn's life purpose of idiocy.

And then I cannot help but bite a beam at that and squeak as a giggle pours out, and the warm arms hold me closer, Rupert gently stroking me and swiftly p-placing his lips over my forehead and staying by my side, even as the night only worsens. He always continues to stay. Does not... leave. He is not a stray to me, but a... permanent imprint somewhere deep down inside of me to a level I may not even understand. I think he tells me that it is okay to be scared, because he will be here for me, but I am not sure because the emotions surrounding me somewhat drain out iffy details and swarm me in this ensconced safety I doubt I could do without by now.

Only time will tell what may cross my path. At least... I will have heartwarming company, a-and they can have me.

Yay, deep Dina stuff! Heheh, if you couldn't tell, she's much more deep-down-feely-stuff than Dino is, who, yes, is her brother although she doesn't remember this (which I feel we've established by the end of each twin having at least one chapter all to themselves. X3) She keeps thinking about darker stuff because... well, she can't help it sometimes. Heh... Lucky for all readers who didn't know about her past situations~ There's an overview poked around in there, heheh. I trust it's not so sudden that she likes someone because she did in The Alone Champion and emotions happened so well it's not like he died at the end of the last story, oh my gosh no.

Okay, I'm rambling. Here was chapter two of The Lost Fossil Fighter. Rupert and Dina are the other lovely protagonists that are part of the story. ^^