Raise your hand if you understood the true intention as to why I named the crystal Cyclonis was searching for "Borealis" WITHOUT looking it up. Yes, there's going to be pretty colors later, but the crystal itself doesn't directly reference the Northern Lights.
More useless knowledge: Airplane wings (some commercial models, at least, like the new Boeing 787/Dreamliner) have the ability to flex upwards and downwards in order to displace the stress placed upon them by winds and pressure.
When I mentioned Aerrow's switchblade's wings angled to gain more lift at lower speeds, I was referencing commercial airplanes' ability to extend flaps/airfoils and slats from the main wings, which are used during taking off and landing. NASA explains the reason why pilots do that better than I can (plus, I don't think there's enough room to put sufficient information here without boring you to tears).
On the mountaintop, the stone columns surrounding the decrepit barbican stood side by side, silent guardians of the hill. Shattered monuments peeked at the world between the undergrowth, forgotten relics of the past. A lone tower was erected in the center, roof practically annihilated and bricks missing, a testament to its long history of braving battles and winds. From within its dying form, the soil nurtured a growing spruce, which formed an umbrella over the openings in the ceiling.
"Looks like a cheery place," Piper remarked, wrinkling her nose at the blatantly disheveled appearance the watchtower presented.
"It looks rather comfortable," Cyclonis confessed quietly, a surprisingly non-malicious look of dreamy contentment upon her face. "Deathly heights, lethal beasts roaming the terra, a forlorn environment… what's not to like?"
The Storm Hawk rolled her eyes.
"Cyclonians," Piper muttered.
"Cyclonian royalty," she corrected.
Gently, so as not to aggravate her condition, the monarch was deposited onto the earth and propped against the disintegrating tower's wall.
"Finally," Cyclonis grumbled, stretching her limbs and groaning loudly as vertebrae popped back into place. "I believe you've murdered my spine enough for one day!"
But Piper didn't hear her- not entirely, that is. She had done well so far, relying on instinct and planning skills born of defending Terra Neverlandis . The team would've been proud. So she basked in her pride, only snapping back into reality when a familiar rumbling roar carried across the land.
"I'm sorry," the navigator admitted, offering an apologetic smile, "I didn't think of bringing a snack when Aerrow and I spi- I mean, followed you."
"How quaint, the legendary Storm Hawks caught unprepared," a coy smile graced her face, the upturning of her lips growing as she cracked her neck. "I almost wonder how you managed to earn the notable distinction of being the last Sky Knight squadron to fall into my clutches."
"You might be losing your touch," Piper smirked. "After all, how else would an all-powerful sovereign completely lose an entire empire in less than two hours?"
The Cheshire smile slid from her features, drooping and folding over to form a half-grimace, half-snarl.
"That's a low barb from an oh-so-immaculate Storm Hawk such as yourself, Piper," she spat, glaring as the latter gathered her things and prepared to leave.
"Might want to rethink that."
Piper turned around, a questioning eyebrow cocked.
"To elucidate," Cyclonis snapped, "It is not wise to abandon an immobile person in plain sight"
The crystal mage tipped her head, concentration evident in furrowed brows.
"You're right," she admitted slowly, scratching her head, "Um… here, I think this will help."
So the Storm Hawk kicked a rudimentary camouflage cover in the form of several pounds of twigs and leaves over her peer. A bit of dirt was thrown into the concoction as well just for the heck of it. Piper stepped back, confident in what little survival techniques Aerrow taught her after the Zartacla incident. And in a rare spirit of dark humor, Piper removed the cordon from her back and handed it to the cloaked sovereign.
Cyclonis fingered the steel bird with interest, tracing the smooth curves with deft digits. It reflected, glinting dully in the muffled sunlight. Of all the Storm Hawks', hers was the smallest, meant to be nestled between slender shoulder blades. Now it rested in her enemy's cupped palms as if it naturally belonged there, a token of the blossoming trust between them.
"Why are you-?"
Piper shrugged nonchalantly.
"If I don't return, at least you have something to remember me by."
Crystal bag emptied once more- the powered stones themselves understandably within arms-reach for the downed girl, Piper set off in search of sustenance, crystal staff deployed and secure in her grip. She had given thought to giving back the fallen dictator her staff, but the shiny, somewhat murderous glean in the latter's eyes told her otherwise. Obviously, the earlier conversation was still fresh in her mind.
'At least the crystals' effects won't be multiplied to lethal levels,' she thought, stumbling over a surreptitious crevice as she moved farther and farther away from the monarch. Cyclonis laughed.
Travelling downhill was inherently easier- gravity simply worked in her favor. Piper swiftly rebounded from rock to rock, hands and feet using the uneven surface to their advantage. Without the pressing need to practically babysit a teenager with tantrum issues, this was actually kind of fun. Catlike, she landed in a crouch on firm ground and started to run, savoring the cool winds against her face.
The untamed lands were swarming with life in contrast to their temporary shelter. Torrents of rain had protected this ecosystem from the same damage inflicted by the lightning-born fire. Prickly grass taller than her knees swished gracefully in the tumbling wind. Here, the air was pure and free of carcinogens, lightly scented by the surrounding flora and fauna. In short, it was perfect for some alone time.
Insects of all species and kingdoms- including some that have yet to be scientifically discovered- flitted about, gathering food and rather violently attacking intruders with fist-sized mandibles and deadly stingers. Sometimes, mottled birds brushed past, talons wrapped around their prey of choice. Still, no mammals slow or docile enough that were worth chasing after graced her line of vision.
Gentle, strong, seven-foot-high beasts grazed on open plains. Their offspring stood beside them, swishing their tails and sharpening their growing tusks. Piper thought of bringing one back to the so-called campsite, but they reminded her of Junko and his charming demeanor. So she carried on, quite disheartened by the encounter. Sighing quietly, she allowed her drawn rod to be put away; no use having it out when there was nothing worth hunting.
She missed the goofy antics of her brothers, how they managed to accidentally destroy her crystal lab one way or another in their prankish efforts. She missed waking up at five in the morning by Finn's loud guitar music and stepping into the bridge to find a gigantic mess for her to clean up after. But most of all, she missed the assorted baskets of nutty fruits she came to know and love as her family.
Miles passed and she slowed to a stop, body covered in a slick layer of sweat.
The first idle thoughts that came to mind were why she had elected to assist her enemy willingly and why had she taken the liberty of extensively searching for sustenance on the dictator's behalf.
Perhaps the dictator had managed to tap into the natural motherly temperament she possessed and twist it to her advantage. It wasn't a far-fetched idea; after all, she had infiltrated their ranks and learned a little of their inner workings, their personalities, and their weaknesses. Such three aforementioned attributes were important in weakening an enemy.
But maybe…
Maybe… they were more than friends?
Laughing nervously, she hurriedly changed her train of thought. Small, non-lethal bugs could be their dinner if she managed to find some; they were rich in nutrients- protein, especially. If she had sniping abilities like Finn, she could build a bow and arrow and shoot the birds of prey out of the air.
The terra came to an abrupt stop, ending in the shape of a wickedly curving cliff. Below, putrid yellow clouds swirled, obscuring what lay below its protective cover. Still nothing to eat, and she'd roamed nearly the entire length of the floating block.
"Guess this field trip was all for nothing, then," Piper whispered to herself dejectedly.
Something cracked.
Dark ears pricked, intently searching for its source. Sharp eyes scanned above and all around, pupils darting to and fro.
Nothing.
She exhaled in relief, preparing to back away from the imminent danger that so adamantly stared her in the face.
CRACK.
Piper froze, looking at her feet at the growing crevice and gulped.
'And then…' memory-Stork whispered in her mind.
CRUNCH.
The rock section she stood on suddenly gave way under her feet, coming apart in sizeable chunks. The Storm Hawk fell, screaming in surprise, fingers grasping and clawing at the air as if it would suddenly sustain her weight. Imagine her surprise when instead of coming to a rather messy end as a carcass, muddy water greeted her instead.
It engulfed her, frothing about vigorously like a racing horse. The freezing liquid practically suffocated her; an uncomfortable pressure on her chest caused her to gasp and lose precious oxygen. She could see nothing but darkness, closing in all around her like lions. The only thing she heard was the rushing current and death's hoarse breathing.
An unwelcome musing crossed her mind.
'I'm going to die.'
Piper had never exactly been a good swimmer- an accident many years ago sealed her resolve to never have anything to do with water unless it was absolutely necessary for years. The events at Terra Tropica and while scuba diving two months ago had been a different story- she had friends she could rely on if things got hairy. But now, with nothing but rushing fluid surrounding her, she did the only reasonable thing to do- panic.
Feet churned the water beneath her as hysteria set in; thin arms batted up and down like demented wings in disharmony with the lower limbs. Piper was steadily running out of air, and she knew it. Darkness ate away at the corners of her vision, lungs burned for air. Her leg muscles were fatigued, tired with the effort of covering several miles in such a short time. It seemed her uncoordinated efforts merely pushed herself deeper and deeper into the stream's depth. An unwilling cough, a stream of bubbles escaped her mouth. Just as she began to give up all hope, something twinkling above caught her eye.
There! Light!
The teen surfaced, gasping for breath and clinging to the sunlight-mottled rock face with chipped nails. With herculean effort, she hauled another third of her body out...
...and started to slip as the weight of her body plus her sodden clothing pulled her down.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
Gravity overcame friction. Her hold faltered, and she landed with a splash into the murky waters once more, ferried into a tunnel. The lack of light in there made her all the more claustrophobic. Death gladly took her in its hold, bouncing her against the river bed and triumphantly laughing in her ears. Thrashing quite helplessly, Piper surfaced, nose barely sticking out of the water. It was all she could do to not drown...
...Or burst into tears, seeing as the river ended in a waterfall that probably was taller than three Cyclonian battleships stacked atop each other once she exited the oppressive space.
A hand flailed at her back, reaching for her staff. Something cylindrical comfortingly pressed against her palm. Without thinking, Piper ripped it from the cloth's grip and, extending it, plunged it deep into the soft mud, establishing a tenuous anchor in the process.
Gently, Piper guided herself to the river's edge, using the metal pole as a lever. Breath hitched in her lungs, she long decided that her respiratory system shouldn't be the reason for losing the one chance she had at escape, and so she pushed forward.
Long story short, it worked. She landed not too far from where she fell; Piper estimated only about a mile's worth of land needed to be covered. Here, in the enormous cavern hewn out of rock, an opening in the ceiling welcomed the cloudy skies above. Dripping water like a fountain and happy to be alive, the mage rejoiced in the sunlight, staff in hand. She relished the feel of metal, the acute angles of the many claw like protrusions- wait, what?
A quick dart of vermillion orbs proved it was not her weapon she had drawn, but rather her enemy's- irony at its finest. What was used many times in attempts to murder her had actually spared her life instead.
The river had deposited her adjacent to a pool whose mud had almost completely settled down thanks to the slower-running current the bite-sized stream it was connected to provided. Thus, the liquid appeared more appetizing, and Piper readily drank from it without further ado. Who cared if it had deadly water-borne diseases? Piper certainly didn't; she definitely earned it- or so her mind said.
A hearty burp soon followed afterward and a quick dip in the grimy pond filled the previously-empty bag to four fifths of the way. 'Cyclonis could have the dirt in her drink,' Piper thought. 'Serves her right for trying to take over the world'. As for food...
The cavern housed a very limited choice range to choose from.
Looking up at the stalactites, Piper wondered if bat-moles tasted good after being roasted. A cursory peek downward, however, provided a far more preferable option. Using her bag was out of the question; the water didn't need further contamination.
The fish were eel-like, long and serpentine, with vile-colored scales and covered in protective slime. Weird protrusions erupted near their fins, tapering off in ribbons of tan.
Piper set the weapon down and crouched over the water's edge.
"Gotcha!" she cried, triumph evident in her voice...
...but not in her hands, for they returned devoid of edible sustenance.
The fish swam at a lackadaisical pace as if the water was made of tar, mocking her inability to capture them with slow, graceful maneuvers. The Storm Hawk punched the ground in frustration, trying time and time again to catch the slippery vertebrates but failing. Casting a weary look upon the cavern, Piper lay back.
The black staff glinted in the muffled light. Emboldened, her face soon twisted into an insane grin, momentary depressive spell forgotten.
Perhaps something could be worked out.
The trip back to the mountain summit was slightly more eventful, seeing as she needed to escape and find her way back. In the end, however, the three pseudo-fishes still remained impaled upon the evil mage's staff, her bag's durability held true, and the Storm Hawk herself escaped with "minor" damage from a run in with a bear-like creature whose den she'd inadvertently disturbed.
Dinner was delicious, if not burned to a charred crisp by the queen's incompetence. Piper made no mention of exactly how she had captured the fish, and the rather irritable empress never found out. Telling your (more powerful) arch-nemesis how you abused their prized weapon was a definite no-no, especially if it was used to save your life or to scratch a rather bothersome itch on your lower back you normally couldn't have reached on your own.
"You look absolutely dreadful, by the way. Why are you so wet?" Cyclonis asked in between bites, wiping dirt-laden hands on the grass. "Your hair makes you look like..." she trailed off.
Piper subconsciously stared at her orange headband, now in the other girl's keeping. It was a gift from her father, much like her necklace was from her mother. She'd worn both of them ever since she fled the burning remains of what was once her home. Amber eyes now twitched upward in curiosity.
"Makes me look like what?"
Cyclonis blinked, clearing the image from her mind.
"Never mind," the elder mage replied, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand. "You look far more presentable with your hair down, by the way."
Piper was left scratching her head and the subject of her hairstyle never came up again that night.
The only remarkable thing about Terra Tenebre was its sheer weather pattern changes due to its unusual atmosphere. Some days would be unbearably cold, others would be swelteringly hot. Today, however, the temperature hovered around seventeen degrees Celsius- neither cold nor hot, but just chilly enough to be somewhat uncomfortable.
Cyclonis seemed comfortable enough. Piper, however, hated the unwelcome gusts of wind that chilled her to the bone, aided by her earlier swim and lack of protective clothing.
She flinched as another burst sent a chill up her spine...
...And reluctantly curled up next to the queen, pressing her side against the latter's while simultaneously trying to stay as far away as possible. Her back to unfeeling stone walls, Piper slowly drifted off into sleep, never noticing amethyst eyes intently watching her instead of monitoring the campsite.
The fire had long burnt itself out after consuming the last of its wooden fuel, and lying beside her as an easy target ripe for the picking was her arch-enemy...
...Who happened to be the only source of warmth left.
Unwillingly, Cyclonis closed the gap between them, pressing herself closer and taking in the other girl's scent as the latter's body heat brought warmth back into her freezing digits.
Sweat and motor oil, with just a hint of burnt hair stemming from minor accidents in crystal experimentation... not bad. A bit of blood would do her fine, though; it'd add color to her cheeks.
"Lark," Piper mumbled, and the dark girl nearly stumbled back in shock in response to her actual name.
Aside from that once incident approximately a year ago, nobody but her long deceased grandmother had used her true name- she'd almost forgotten it. A shame really, seeing as names held life-or-death power over Cyclonian royalty and they were best forgotten.
Cyclonis said nothing in reply, and the mumblings eventually dwindled to nothing.
The thick layer of clouds had thinned until Atmos's three moons were somewhat visible. Usually, it was a very good sign- one could determine his or her position based on their locations.
Tonight, however, they appeared alien. Even the air felt different, more sickeningly oppressive than usual. The Far Side wasn't the run-of-the-mill lost civilization. These terras' inhabitants weren't gradually wiped out by wars- something or someone felled them with a single blow.
Great power resided here- great power that any passing person could command and abuse to their will.
The Far Side never felt more foreboding until now.
Something bad, something terrible beyond one's wildest nightmares was going to happen, and she knew it.
The air was still, saturated with humidity and the stench of rot. Water dripped from cracks in the wall's façade, plinking against unfeeling stone. Undergrowth protruded from the same fissures, snaking around forgotten carvings and hieroglyphs.
A high ceiling arched above a storage of rare gems and invaluable treasures, hosting figurines of great gods and goddesses of the past.
Deep within the bowels of the ancient city, something stirred. From their supposed final resting place, dust shot into the air, daintily falling to the ground once more as a figure stepped through the partially-collapsed opening, wide-eyed and breathless.
"Finally…"
Soft padding followed as a small creature followed after him, uttering soft growls and sniffing at the ground.
"The mythic City of the Ancients..."
A small smile stretched on his face.
"She's here. I can feel it."
AN: Please excuse my poor attempts at mimicking Cyclonis's speech pattern. Most of the things she says are meant to be read in a sarcastic tone anyway. Originally, there was a friend/foe moment between both Cyclonis and Piper, but it was cut out in favor of maintaining a slow build-up. At the end of this fan fiction, I'll probably post an addendum containing cut sequences.
I imagine the metal Storm Hawks logo on the team's backs had more than one single purpose. In "Number One Fan", Aerrow uses his to deflect a blast from a (presumably) low-grade Firebolt crystal.
As for Piper's bag, it's quite notorious for its hammerspace capabilities. It's little more than a size of an adult human's fist, yet the series has shown it capable of holding more than three good-sized crystals at once or even crystals larger than itself!