(The art of losing isn't hard to master)

Something happened. Piper wasn't quite sure what, though. She opened her eyes, trying to get up until a sharp stab of pain ran through her right arm and she remembered, burying her face back into the pillows with a loud cry, beating her other fist against the ground once or twice, her whole body burning.

Maybe she was too loud. Aerrow almost busted down the door trying to get inside only to find her resting on her back, staring at the ceiling, her eyes devoid of all emotion.

OoOoOo

It was beautiful, if you were of an artistic inclination. Watching Askold punch Aerrow in the gut was almost slow motion for Junko, bed-ridden and pale. He could see it coming from a mile away- most people do see it coming, but their minds don't react fast enough to send the message to the rest of their body. Junko saw a flash, an image of a clock, a spring being wound and then released. Askold was a Tundras miner- what he lacked in style, he more than made up for in sheer muscle power.

You broke me.

His whole body grew damp from a sudden cold sweat, started to shake as Aerrow slowly picked himself up from the ground. Stork had supplied Junko with some artificial sleep, something that made him numb to pain while cool, careful green hands wove a needle back and forth, closing up the wounds. He still couldn't move his body correctly, or else Askold might have found himself as the Condor's new windshield ornament instead of picking Aerrow up and laying into him with one fist while Dyri's wife shouted for him to stop and his only remaining brother- Dyri, the youngest- clung to his arm, trying to pull him back.

Junko wasn't used to losing battles, not physical ones. He didn't know how to fight this sleep inside him. The lines began to blur, and the color began to seep from the world, and then he could see his eyelids closing slow and dramatic as the curtains falling before the tragedy on-stage.

Aerrow was still dangling mid-air, the man holding him by the front of his shirt. It didn't look to be much of an effort- Aerrow was small, and slight. A stretch of blood oozed from his lip- he wiped it away, eyes unshakeable, staring into Askold's. His feet swayed.

"Are you done?" he finally asked. Before Askold could respond, though, the grate popped free from the air duct above him, and Stork fell on the miner with a hypodermic needle clutched in one hand. It punched through the skin of the man's neck, expertly applied in a split second. Askold roared, dropping Aerrow and reaching over his shoulder, but Stork flipped off the man's back and clung to the wall of the ship, yellow eyes bugged out with fear. He needn't have worried- the dosage was correct. Askold took two steps towards Stork before wiping out, falling flat on his face, clean on the floor.

(So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster)

Aerrow got to his feet, touching his face with the tips of his fingers to feel the flesh as it began to rise and firm, swelling with pain. Trembling green eyes wandered the room, looking for something, but undeniably lost. "Thank you, Stork," he said, though he didn't seem to address the merb. "It wasn't necessary but thank you."

"He was killing you."

I didn't mind that so much. "I'm the captain," he said instead, returning back to reality and glancing over at Dyri. "I take full responsibility. I'm sorry this had to happen, and I'm sorry we couldn't protect your brother. But if we hadn't taken you here, all of you would have been dead." He started collecting things off the floor that Askold had flung about in his rage. Picture frames and maps. He'd come back later with a broom to sweep up the shattered glass. "If you want to leave now, though, I have no right to stop you. We'll take you anywhere you want to go."

Dyri didn't say anything. He just bent over and tried to pick up his older brother; his wife helped drag the limp body away. "Wait," Aerrow said, just as they were about to leave. Dyri looked over his shoulder at the Sky Knight.

"He didn't treat me like a child. I appreciate that." Aerrow's fist clenched tightly over the maps in his hand, tight enough to tremble minutely. "However, if he ever steps foot on board my ship without a good reason, I'm going to hit him back." Green eyes flashed, his expression hardened. "That's what men do... isn't it?"

Dyri didn't have an answer.

"...Get off my ship."

He did.

OoOoOo

"I want to see her."

"I'm not sure that's a-"

"Aerrow."

He caved.

OoOoOo

(Lose something every day.)

Lynn flinched when the light spilled forth from the open door, flinched and closed her eyes at the unwelcome sensation. Turning her head to the side, she kept her eyes clenched shut even when the door

-don't trust her-

was shut and Piper was walking towards her, bending, lowering herself carefully onto her knees so that they were eye level with nonexistent eyes hidden clamped shut behind fleshy drop-curtains- No. Not here. Not now.

Lynn choked on a sob that almost made it past her lips, and the tears ran freely.

"Lynn," Piper said. "I know it's you in there. It's OK." She lifted up Lynn's chin and kissed her. "It's OK."

The only illumination in the room was faintly glowing purple, the marks of the spells and charms cast all over Lynn's body. She was completely immobile, frozen on her knees with her hands behind her back, half slumped over. When she opened her eyes, she could only cry more.

Piper felt a tremor run through her, to see Lynn's blood-red eyes hadn't changed back yet to their normal color.

"It's OK," she said again, helpless to say anything else. She pulled Lynn's head to her chest and let it rest there, her white robes soaking up the tears.

Lynn's voice came out muffled. "I'm sorry."

"None of this is-"

"No. Nothing," Lynn said, "Nothing will ever be OK."

OoOoOo

(Accept the fluster of lost door keys)

Lynn's smiles are cheap and easy to come by, these days. She flies in and out of missions and comes back home to have the master bestow a rare curve of her lips, a thin-lipped smile where she stores her happiness, carefully sealed away and bottled up inside her. She warms under the awareness of admiring eyes, or of the sensation of lying naked face down on the bed, half-asleep and feeling a single fingertip running down the length of her spine.

And then, as they say, all good things must come to a sudden, abrupt change.

She started a secret project. That was bad. Well, not bad, but how was she supposed to protect Lark from herself?

(even then she knew, she knew, the danger always came from within.)

"It's nothing grand," Lark promises her. "Just something I'd like to keep off the radar."

She seals it with a kiss and Lynn does not believe her, rigid against the softness brushing against her forehead. She knows a lie when she hears one, but she's unable to do anything about it. Day after day, she watches from afar and Lark grows distant, spending all of her time with the Dark Ace, sending Lynn out on missions far away to keep her from home, to keep her from finding out things.

She does not know what she is becoming. She does not know what a Nightcrawler is- not really. Top secret files and needles injected. A small group loyal to Cyclonis. A privilege, she thinks, as she heads downstairs for a routine check up with Rodana. Neither she, nor the other cadets who were picked out for special training on that day so long ago, know exactly what a Nightcrawler is.

One day, she hears this:

"Why isn't it working?"

Even now, the sound of anger radiating from the Dark Ace's voice is enough to have her trembling and fighting the urge to flee. But she presses her ear against the door, and considers scaling the walls outside to see if she could hang just outside the windowsill to better hear what they were saying.

"Patience, Dark Ace. Anger does not sway magic. You must have complete control."

Magic?

"Master, you're endangering yourself with this foolish pursuit. It isn't working and you're-"

"I," Lark hisses, "am fine."

Lynn opens the door, before she can hear any more. The two turn to look at her. "You're back early," Lark says, completely flat.

Somehow, she controls her voice as well. "I took a shortcut," she says, and feels the chilly knowledge that in that moment, Cyclonis knows she had been eavesdropping. Lynn knows she knows it in the distance she feels when she looks directly into those purple eyes.

(the hour badly spent)

And then Lark starts to waste away.

OoOoOo

(The art of losing isn't hard to master.)

Two hours later, the door cracked open again. Piper and Lynn looked up to see Aerrow standing there, an icepack pressed against his swollen face. "Shift's up, Piper," he said, voice thick. "It's my turn to watch the- to watch Lynn."

Lynn cracked a smile, in spite of everything. They knew what he had almost said. "I don't think I'm going anywhere," she said to him, and the symbols that kept her bound seemed to glow brighter as though to reaffirm this. "You guys don't need to keep me company."

"I'll take your shift," Piper added.

Walking further inside, Aerrow sat down next to Piper on the floor, watching Lynn where she knelt, motionless. "Can you move at all?" he wanted to know. "Are you uncomfortable?"

Lynn looked at the floor. She flexed her hands, locked behind her back. She was trained to block out discomfort, but if things didn't change soon, she was going to go mad from sheer boredom. "I'm locked up tight," she said, declining to answer the second question.

"And it's your fault."

Someone else filled the doorway. Aerrow got to his feet. "Listen, mister, I've had enough finger-pointing for one day. I've already taken responsibility for what happened but-"

The head monk held a hand for silence, visibly calmer than Aerrow was. "I wasn't referring to you, young man," he said, and turned his gaze directly on Piper.

The navigator grew cold.

(Then practice losing farther, losing faster:)

"You failed to warn us of the…" he waved towards Lynn. "Nature of your relationship. There's a reason we don't allow unsanctioned romances, young woman." Holding both hands out at his sides, horizontal with the earth, the spells and sigils glowing on Lynn's body flew from her skin to travel along the ground like snakes of violet energy. They coursed up into the air, forming pillars that lead up into his palms where they gathered together into crackling electric orbs.

"This." He held one up for Piper to see. "This is what keeps the walls protected from invaders. It's holy magic, one that you sullied with your oath breaking."

"Now hold on just a minute!" Aerrow said, taking a step forward. "Piper never-"

Lynn unsteadily rose to her feet, her bones creaking from the movement after being still for so long. "It's true," she said, putting a hand on Aerrow's shoulder. "And I-"

The head monk turned to her. "You are bound to someone else."

Red eyes narrowed, lips thinned and pursed. "I dunno if-" Releasing the air held deep in her chest, she lowers her head in shame and says, "Yes. Yes, I am."

(Places, and names.)

Aerrow and Piper stared at her as though she'd grown an extra head. "But you're fifteen," Piper said. The words echoed; hollow and brittle, they cracked as they reverberated against the stone walls.

"Sixteen," Lynn corrected her. "Well, almost sixteen."

"She's old enough," the monk said. "There was an oath broken. You are at an age of accountability; innocence is no longer yours to claim." He closed his fists, letting the purple energy fizzle out. It was the perfect punctuation mark to end his sentence. The three young adults- not children, not really, not anymore- stood or sat in silence, absorbing the truth that they had skirted the edges of for so long. It sank into their core, became another constant to rely on, and to be responsible for. Who knew these dangerous powers they'd receive as adults, this target painted on their back?

(no one else to blame but yourself all of you)

Lynn spoke, dragging herself up out of the mire of her own mind and flexed her freed hands some more, open and shut and open and shut. "Is it safe for me to-"

"They're not gone," the monk interrupted Lynn. "I simply moved them from your body to the room. I can see you've returned to your senses, and as long as the rules are obeyed, no evil spirits should be able to enter this place. Still, for your own safety and that of your friends, it's best you stay here."

"Thank you," Piper said to him.

"I'm sorry," Lynn said.

The monk shook his head. "I have no power to neither forgive nor judge." He walked away.

Sighing when he left, Lynn collapsed onto the floor, lying on her back to give it a rest from the horrible posture it had been frozen in.

"Cyclonis," she said, as low as she could without being inaudible.

OoOoOo

Weeks and months.

(and where it was you meant to travel.)

The battle rages on and Lark is desperate, her secret project becoming strained, her plans falling apart, her subordinates failing her, the Sky Knights of Atmos a constant thorn in her side, even with the death of the old Storm Hawks. Lynn spends more and more time away from home, which only heightens her shock to return to find that the pale skin she once admired had now become transparent, the fine bones brittle, the silent strength sapped away. Something had eaten her alive, Lynn thinks. Something is eating her alive.

"Good to see you back home safely, Randilynn," Lark says, feigning normality.

Lynn can only choke out, "M-Master Cyclonis..."

She grabs the master by her thin, thin wrist. They're the same height now, even if the Empress is wearing heels, and Lynn is much stronger. "Whatever you're doing, you need to stop," she says, she blurts out, squeezing tightly. "You have to stop it right now."

Even Lark's words seem weak. There's no fire in them, just a hollow wheeze from her struggling lungs. "You can't tell me what to do," she mumbles, her eyes lowered even as she falls against Lynn with a tired sigh, pulling the other girl into an embrace. "That's not how it works."

OoOoOo

(None of these will bring disaster.)

When it was time to pull the lever, Rodana paused. She stopped altogether, and then walked around to face the gas chamber door, looking up at its imposing gray steeliness. Placing a hand against it, she unlocked it and went inside to say goodbye to Than before she killed him.

Her eyes couldn't distinguish the chains that had him stretched out in the room, all his limbs extended. It was just one gray mesh of restraints. From under his lank green hair he seemed almost to be looking at her, those empty sockets aimed in her direction. He didn't say anything, but then, he never did.

"It was selfish of me," Rodana said, "To keep you alive this long. I'm sorry, Than."

A powerful red hand grabbed her around her midsection, lifting the small scientist off the ground and pulling her out of the chamber. "Touching," Cyclonis said, staff in hand.

"Master! I only…"

Cyclonis waved her comments and excuses aside. "It's quite all right." She motioned to something behind her, probably the exit. "Now leave me with poor Than for a moment, if you've said your goodbyes. I'd like to pull the lever on this particular annoyance in person."

Rodana nodded. For only a moment, she allowed herself grief, for the life she had taken from the merb, a life she had taken long before his conditioning broke and he was deemed too unstable for missions. Then she steeled herself, like the doors to Than's death, and reminded herself that the last person to be pitied here was a certain Saharian bioengineer. She walked away, out of the underground labs, up to the surface where Cyclonia's bloody skies waited for her. Sunlight burned her eyes, a reminder of a life cooped up in a darkening library rather than any Nightcrawler traits she might have picked up along the way.

(I lost my mother's watch.)

Cyclonis soon joined her. "You deserve a break," she said. "And you've earned your retirement, five times over."

She even clapped a friendly hand on the woman's shoulder.

Rodana didn't return the smile. "In other words," she said. "I'm no longer useful to you."

"Not at all." Cyclonis smirked. "You've proven yourself incredibly useful to me. But I know you've never been loyal to me. You come from a neutral terra, and so remain neutral until your obvious personal dislike of me threatens to sway you politically. So now you, you get to choose your payment for your services and your method of departure from this dismal place before I'm unfortunate enough to see the day you inevitably turn on me, Rodana."

A dry, hot gust of wind blew in through the window from the arid terra. Rodana pulled herself free from Cyclonis' manipulative, over-friendly touch to look outside at the red land she had lived on for the past thirty years. Sulfur and ash eddied in the currents from the Wasteland below, settling like a cloud of death on the ground, on the people, on the buildings, on all the Nightcrawler betas and the four- no, three- new upgraded ones, designed to be resistant to sunlight.

The scientist from Saharr had paved the way, left a path for the newer researchers to follow, emulate, dissect, and hopefully one day surpass. The Nightcrawlers were, after all, nothing more than a science experiment. Science is defined by progress; Rodana held no grudge against youthful ambitions.

No more Thans. No more Skuas.

No more mistakes.

(And look! My last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went.)

Cyclonis spoke to her back, Rodana still having turned on her master to stare out at the adoptive terra, where the previous Cyclonis had taken her after plucking her from the academy on Saharr where she had taught and wrote and wrote and wrote to anyone with the vaguest interest in science for grants to continue her experiments. And then she wrote to anyone with money. And then she wrote to anyone who cared.

"You have three options," Cyclonis said. "First: You can stay here and lead the research team. Full authority matched only by the period of time when you had created the first successful Nightcrawler. Second: You leave for Saharr with a hefty sum of money and a pretty explanation that will assuage any concerns as to where you've been holed up all this time. Third: I give you an even heftier sum of money and a new identity for you to do with as you wish."

The empress pulled the woman by her shoulder, dragged her away from the spectacle of falling red-and-black snow. Rodana was small, and frail. Cyclonis was young, and wore heels, and the fire of hubris burned in her luminous purple eyes fiercely enough to reek of sulfur- or maybe that was just the wind outside, getting to her in the ways the desert air never did. Either way, Rodana looked up at her master and not for the first time, did not like what she see: the over eagerness, the looming strength, the way long nails dug through her bloodstained labcoat.

Long, immaculate, manicured, clean.

Cyclonis was clean, and everything on this polluted red Terra was not. Well, that wouldn't stay true for long. She couldn't distance herself, this girl, she never could. The shadow of her grandmother hovered over her every step, and the memory of Randilynn Krauss' betrayal singed her pulsing pride. A hatred of losing Rodana could understand; an unwillingness to be flexible, being incapable of separating personal injury from national pride, and a dark hunger for power in any form- no. These were not the qualities of a master. And this girl was not the Master Cyclonis who had taken a chance on a young woman with an itch to create.

In all honesty, despite her youth, her immaturity thinly veiled by a cold and stolid composure, this girl scared her. Rodana now remembered the stories of Cyclonia of old, of emperors who murdered their entire staff before dying, to have an escort to the afterlife, eternally bound and obedient.

[ticktockticktockticktock]

In this devil of a girl, Rodana could see that an evil had resurfaced, jumped across the generations, and in that instant she truly realized what she had done when she herself had equipped the master with the soldiers necessary to carry out her far-reaching plans. Not science experiments. Not a coven, a tight group, a carefully controlled inner circle. She was going to take them, Rodana knew, and she was going to somehow mass produce them. That's what always happens, once the breakthroughs are done, once the product is complete, they can be cloned. Copied. She took a step backwards, her strong heart now finally showing the signs of stress that the years often bring. Purple and red swam through her fuzzy vision, and the soft purr of a young girl's voice, self-assured and lascivious.

"So do we have a deal, my dear?"

Rodana extended one hand, grasped Cyclonis' firmly, and shook it. Tanned and serious, her face didn't bear any regret, for the epiphany had truly been just that- a moment of clarity in an otherwise obfuscated world. "I think I'll go with door number two," she said and then broke out with her usual self-contained smile, the one she generally wore around the waking hours, the one that meant absolutely nothing at all.

"I miss blue skies."

(The art of losing isn't hard to master.)

OoOoOo

How many times could she walk the square perimeter of that little room? Her hand extended, she traced lines in the dust as she walked, fingers trailing along the stone walls that kept her company, her, normally left alone with her thoughts. Piper had left, and it was night time, and she could not sleep because her eyes burned when she closed her eyes. Lynn was left alone with the walls and her thoughts and the locks on the door that not even she could break.

She began to count the stones.

OoOoOo

Her hand locks around a frail wrist quite by accident, meaning to tell her something, to punctuate a sentence. But her hand wraps completely around bone, flesh hanging loose, and when Lynn and Lark look at each other there is a terrible understanding between them. Lark pulls free, rubbing the spot as though she had been bruised. Seeing how delicate she is right now, and Lynn's brute strength, it wouldn't have been surprising.

"You're getting worse," Lynn says.

"Well, imagine that, Randily-yeh-eck!"

Her words tumble over each other in surprise; a crystal scope falls to the floor. Lynn has her by the front of her battle suit, lifted up off the floor with one hand. Lark, nonplussed, frowns at Lynn as she dangles in the air as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "You weigh nothing," Lynn said, setting her down on the floor. For a moment Lark's knees buckled again, but she catches herself before she can fall and makes her way over to the crystal station, her back to Lynn, still refusing to admit anything.

Lynn follows her, relentless. "What do I have to do to convince you?" she asks, forcing Lark to look at her, wrenching her latest project out of her weak grip. "You can't keep doing this. You can't expect me to just stand here and watch you die! You're asking for too much!"

A short breathspan later, the urge to scream repressed and replaced with simply "Why are you doing this?" and Lynn holds her by the waist and pulls her too close and doesn't even wait for Lark to finish she blurts- blurts "becauseIloveyou."

Inhale. Lark holds it in a while. Lets it loose, smooth, mind racing for some sort of response that wasn't staring at Lynn, bug-eyed, and realizing no one had ever told her that ever before in her life.

"Lark?"

Lark can only shake her head, pull away, turn around again.

"Lark…"

Her shoulders are set stiff and hunched, skeletal fingers grasping for another tool. "I need to be alone right now," she says. "I have a lot of work to do and a small time frame to do it in. As I'm sure you reali-"

(I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,)

Bnk.

Lynn's boot falls to the floor. Lark whirls around just in time to see the Nightcrawler hopping on her other foot, yanking off the remaining boot, and then hurling that one at her too. Somehow she has the sense of mind to duck this time, which is harder than it sounds. It's not every day someone throws their shoe at you, especially when you're an empress, and when faced with such absurdity it's not unusual to simply freeze up. After it whizzes safely over her head, she straightens up and shout, "What the fuck, Lynn!"

She's never sworn before, or shortened her name. Today is a day of firsts.

One fist clenched and trembling in front of her, Lynn's words shake like the rest of her. "If I punch you I'm liable to rip right through your body armor," she squeezes out, still rooted to the floor. "You- immature- brat."

"Immature?" Something clicked, deep within violet eyes. She took steps forward only to vanish with a deep, whoomphing noise of matter and air being compressed. She teleports the rest of the way, materializing in Lynn's face, on the tips of her toes with her chin outthrust and two spots of color high on her normally bloodless face. "You do not need someonewith a terminal illness. And I don't need any distractions. What do you think I'm doing? Tossing you aside because I'm bored with you now?" By the end of it she's shouting and doesn't even notice it.

Not even close to being intimidated, Lynn shouts back: "Yes!"

"Well I'm not!"

"Then why don't you prove it?"

"How?" she demands, purple and red light exploding around her in a powerful aura, all of the crystals on her person agitated into life from her emotional turmoil. "What can I do? What do you expect me to do? What is the so-called right thing to-"

Halfway in the air now, she feels a choking pulse from deep inside her, a wave of pain and sickness that cuts off the light surrounding her. She drops to the floor, hard, one hand on her throat. Alarmed, Lynn steps forward to help and says her name but she shakes her head rapidly, pushing the other girl away, making a herculean effort to stand upright on her own. She makes it up all right only to stumble backwards towards her desk, clattering instruments and crystals over the floor. She shudders one more time before falling again, this time only making enough movement to reach the waste basket under her desk, bring it to herself, and then loudly spill her lunch inside it.

OoOoOo

Lynn waits outside the infirmary, seated with her head in her hands. However, she does not wait for long. Shortly, she hears a loud commotion, and Cyclonis' familiar shouting, angry, dominating tone. "Get your hands off of me!" and the clatter of tools and trays being overturned. Lynn gets to her feet just as Lark exits the room, stepping quickly and with purpose as she stretches her fingerless gloves back over her hands. When she spots Lynn, she pauses, arm perpendicular to the ground and her fingers wiggling to get comfortable.

"M-Master Cyclonis," Lynn says. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm feeling splendid, Nightcrawler Randilynn, thank you for asking." She continues to stride out of the room, and Lynn follows at a careful distance. "Those quacks wanted me to lie down and die. I told them where they could stick their drug needles and experimental treatments. And now I- oh, what now?" she asks, exasperated when Lynn speeds up to maneuver in front of her, arms outspread to keep her from moving. "Are we going to start this again?"

"No," Lynn says, arms dropping to her sides with uncertainty. "No, I- no. I just…I'm just…"

[ticktockticktockticktock]

Cyclonis stares her down, eyes narrowing in preparation for battle. "Just what, Randilynn?"

(some realms I owned)

Hesitating, keeping her eyes on her master and lover, Lynn gets down to one knee, taking Cyclonis' hand in both of hers and lightly kissing the fingertips, right there in the hallway to the infirmary. It wasn't quite bustling at this time of the day, but there were still people there to see the spectacle. Cyclonis looks down at her impassively, and Lynn carefully speaks: "I'm yours, Master." And a pause. "I'm yours, whenever you need me."

(two rivers)

This was the part where Cyclonis should have realized how deep she was getting. She should have realized that not only was Lynn speaking the truth when she proclaimed her devotion, the feeling was reciprocated. She should have realized this and squashed the girl's heart without mercy. Lynn was, after all, nothing more than the most expensive toy and weapon Cyclonis had at her disposal. But she doesn't do any of that, of course. Instead she does something her grandmother never did: cause a stir as she sinks down as well, down to Lynn's level, her hands reaching out to run through the girl's scruffy violet hair.

(a continent.)

"I want to show you something," she says. There is suction, the compression of air, and then smoke curls around them as Cyclonis teleports them both to her private labs. "I want you to see what I've been working on."

(I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.)

And she shows Lynn the Storm Engine.

OoOoOo

Stork liked needles. He pressed another one into Piper's hand, yellow eyes large and maybe just a little more disturbed than usual. "You're a smidge more vulnerable than the rest of us right now," he mumbled. "Pluck it into somebody and they won't get a chance to... ah... well lets say they won't get back up."

She blew a raspberry at him. "Stork. I don't need this, I've got plenty of crystals that'll help me out if I need help."

"I'm just sayin', the worst beasts lies within."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means poison is awesome and I can kill people with it without exerting too much force."

She held the needle at eye level, dangling from her fingers like it was something dirty she didn't want to touch. Amber liquid sloshed inside, visible, innocuous. She doesn't even know what it is, but she didn't want to assume Stork was mistaken in its deadliness. "Take this thing and get rid of it somehow. You're being a creeper."

"Well if I acted on all my creeper tendencies we wouldn't have even taken that freak in and you wouldn't have gotten hurt," he spat out, eyes flashing somewhere else as the bitter words somehow made it to her ears. He shrank away from her almost as soon as he said them, ears flattened against his skull. "Oh, uh... damn. Piper-"

The navigator holds up one hand for silence, her eyes closed as she visibly reigned in her temper.

"I'm just mad, ok? I'm mad you got hurt." And then he mumbled, "...I'm mad we haven't killed her yet."

That was enough. "Stork!" she snapped. "Getoutofmyroomnow."

"Kaybye."

Slam.

OoOoOo

Lynn breathes, waiting on the steps. The spiral steps lead up to Cyclonis' room, and she knows the Dark Ace should be coming down any second now. She's been waiting for half an hour. She wants to talk to him, though that goes against everything her body warns her to do.

Finally, she hears his footsteps, echoing and growing closer and sharper. Body tensing, she tries to control her breathing and how stiff she grows as he clicks into view, that particular gait of a person walking down stairs. She steps forward to stand in the middle of the stair case but doesn't turn to face him. They are completely alone at this halfway point between Lark's room and the floor below.

He stops in front of her. She only turns her head to look at him, still unable to face him fully. "I need to talk to you," she says.

"Do you really." It doesn't sound like a question. It doesn't sound like anything.

Far from being brave, it's more like desperation causes her to turn her chest towards his, put one hand on his chest, speak in a voice that shakes like dead leaves, on dead trees, in winter in a garden she hasn't seen yet and hasn't held Piper's hand.

"You need to stop her. She won't listen to me. You have to-"

Her teeth clench in fear and her heart stops as he touches her back, palms resting gently on her shoulders. She looks up at him almost in awe, waiting for the screams and shouts. "Randilynn," he says, in a surprising, even, neutral tone of voice. "I've been waiting for an excuse to do this for a long time now."

Without even enough time for Lynn to go, "Huh?", the Dark Ace grips at her elbows and shoves her down to reach his rising knee, catching her in right on her unarmored gut. She's in her civilian's garb, her uniform somewhere in the dirty laundry pile in her room. This was a mistake, she realizes in hindsight, because then the damage she was about to receive wouldn't have been so great.

"What makes you think you can order me?"

She catches his fist as it flies towards her face, pulling him down a step, too shocked to do anything other than block. Too confused to fight back. He twists free, turning sideways, clasping both hands together and swinging at her. She ducks the wild blow; he lifts one foot and kicks her under the chin, knocking her backwards. She bumps down a few steps before planting both hands firmly on the ground and vaulting upwards again, leg flying through the air. He catches the kick, twists her leg with such force she's dragged off balance again and her whole body spins in the air. On the floor, on her belly, one hand reaches to crawl out in a frantic escape only to have on steel boot crunch down on it.

Laughing, he pulls her up by her short hair, wrenching some of it out by the roots. Slamming her head against the narrow staircase wall with every word, he says:

"You! Are ! Nothing!"

The blood practically explodes out of her mouth. Shoving her away with a grunt, he lets her stumble down a few more steps, following close on her disoriented heels. "Tell me something, darling," he says, grabbing the back of her shirt when she tries to flee again, "What the fuck do you think you are?" Wrapping an arm around her neck, he lifts her up, locking her tight, cutting off her air. "Her lover?" he squeezes harder. "Her pet?!"

She wheezes, legs kicking in the air.

"You're nothing but a freak!" A perfect, shining set of straight white teeth stretched out, flashed in front of her eyes, bloodless lips moving. "And I'm going to love the day when you finally realize it."

Well, some of that new strength kicks in. She breaks free, kicks backward three times. This time they all hit: chest, throat, chin. His teeth clamp on his tongue, but that doesn't deter him too much. Laughing again, spitting out a wad of blood, he slapped her once and then proceeded to punch her. There wasn't any room to dodge in the narrow staircase, and her spinning head couldn't formulate anything other than

(escapeescapescape)

(GETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAY)

RUN RUN RUN RU NRU NRRUNUNRURNNNN

And him, chuckling, talking to someone else. "She fell down," he explains, the utter absurdity of his lie known even to him. The last thing he hears is a snap, and the last thing she feels is her head cracking against the bottom stair.

OoOoOo

Upon hearing Piper's footsteps outside the door, Lynn leaped up to her feet in excitement, glad for once for her sensitive ears. The door opened and Piper walked in; it's a struggle not to tackle hug her because she knew what would happen if she did. Purple light automatically flashed between them, a wall that separated them. Piper doesn't know quite how to say it- "Um, Lynn... are you..?"

"It's me," Lynn said. "I'm me. The witch hasn't even bothered me all night long. Look at me."

Piper looked at her. And she knew. She was even happy enough to grin when she pulled down the barrier between them and they closed the distance as quickly as they could, careful not to jostle Piper's broken arm. Her able hand found its way, tangled up in Lynn's hair, as Piper kissed her softly on the lips.

(--Even losing you)

"I missed you-"

it was only a few hours, really this is so silly i cant believe

i

know but

me too. im so scared of what might happen next

An inhale after the kiss, Lynn starting to fight back, feeling how hard guilt hurts when she feels the rough plaster around Piper's arm pressed against her chest. She touches her face, tilting it upwards to make her way down Piper's jaw, down to her neck. "Please, don't let me go too far," she said, already breathless. "Don't... don't..."

"Lynn-"

[ticktockticktockticktock]

The wall erupts between them again, startling them a few steps back.

Lynn breathes.

"Wasn't me," Piper said, placing one hand against it. "It must be chaperoning us now."

"A little late for that, doncha think?"

Piper shrugged.

((The joking voice, a gesture I love))

"If I promise to behave, will you let me through?" the Storm Hawk asks.

Surprisingly, it did, and she stepped towards Lynn again. They sat side by side, holding hands, Piper running her thumb up and down against Lynn's skin. There was so much silence it started to hurt again. Lynn didn't want to start counting stones again. "Is there some sort of plan for me and my family?" she asked. "What are we supposed to do now that Cyclonis knows we're here?"

"I never planned this far," Piper admitted in a whisper. "I just thought... I don't know. I wanted you guys safe."

I don't think anything about me is safe.

OoOoOo

Cyclonis visits her in the infirmary. She is silent, watching Lynn, waiting to be noticed, and finally draws attention to herself by saying, "So. You fell down the stairs, huh?"

Lynn flinches, dark-shadowed eyes flickering towards her, but she remains quiet.

"The stairs gave you two black eyes, a bloody lip and nose, a bruise on your windpipe and a fracture in your skull?"

She wishes she wasn't still so scared stiff of what had just happened. "H-he was very f-fast," she squeezes out. "C-caught me by surprise."

"He's being punished as we speak." Setting down next to Lynn, something breaks inside Lark's eyes and she bends down, hugging the girl tight. "Oh, my Lynn. My Randilynn. I'm so sorry. He's a monster on a leash, he really is."

My Lynn. The nightcrawler only just manages to stop the shivers rolling through her, pulls away to look at the bleak hospital wall. "He's a psychopath." She tells Cyclonis what had happened.

Another explanation seems to be in store. Lark sits up, her sunken eyes filled with guilt. "He's a mistake."

Lynn waits for her to finish.

"He's... well, he's why we know the full conditioning doesn't work well on humans."

"Conditioning?"

(She never knew how deeply she could admire someone.)

(And she is unaware of how successful the experimentation in the basements is going.)

Cyclonis fidgets with her gloves. "Yes. All real Nightcrawlers go through it. Of course, only merb-human hybrids can survive both the physical upgrades and mental conditioning. The Dark Ace is loyal to me, all right, but he's a certified mad man, and one day he'll be too unstable to be trusted and I'll have to terminate him."

A monster on a leash.

(there were four of us. Only three made it through the training. Where did he go? It never bothered me till now.)

"The Dark Ace was the first Nightcrawler before we knew what a Nightcrawler was. The closest thing to success until recent days-"

-sometimes they'll take soldiers, start mistreating them for no reason. And then you start getting perks. And then you start getting whipped like a dog again. Master Cyclonis has chosen you.-

"I don't want to hear any more."

"Randilynn-"

"You're getting set up for some serious black ops shit, girl, I hope you know that."

"I don't want to hear any more!"

She gets a little queasy after that outburst.

"I am an experiment, aren't I? A freak? This isn't the first time he's said that to me. This isn't the first time he's tried to hurt me. It's just this time he actually did it."

"You were never in danger, Lynn. I chose you for the program because you were exceedingly talented, and because you wouldn't be going through the full process. You literally couldn't, it's impossible for humans." Like a dark blotch in the sterile white room, she scoots closer to Lynn. "It was... a gift. I didn't expect to fall in love with you halfway through the damn thing, all right?"

Damaged and subdued, Lynn simply looks at her. "If you really love me, then stop whatever's hurting you." There's almost nothing left of this horse, they've been beating it for so long, but quitting was never a word in Lynn's vocabulary.

"I..."

Lark curls up next to her, resting her face in the space where Lynn's neck meets her shoulders.

"...I can't."

OoOoOo

It took hours to tell the whole story from beginning to end, but Lynn did it. Piper only listened, the pages in the book of her friend's life suddenly becoming fleshed out and illustrated, explained, illuminated. More than a little confused, Piper managed to say, "So... y-you really loved her, huh?"

Lynn squeezed her hand in reassurance but her face had turned a few degrees bluer. "I think it's safe to say I did," she said, because though she wanted to be honest, saying she was my world would have hurt Piper. She didn't want to hurt Piper. "But it's also safe to say I don't anymore."

That was unsettling. Piper kept inside things she wanted to say, and instead: "I don't understand... if you were some sort of elite Talon, right there in Cyclonis' inner circle, why...?"

(I shan't have lied.)

"...Was I peeling spiny spuds in training camp? I'll get to that."

[ticktockticktockticktock.]

"The Dark Ace was gone, on an extended leave, something like that. The point is, she was so mad at him for what he did to me she couldn't stand having him around for very long, even after whatever it was she had done to punish him was over. I'm sure it wasn't pleasant."

Piper felt the goosebumps, even through the thick white fabric.

"So she told me about this magic... thing. I don't even know how to describe it."

"The Storm Engine?"

Lynn quickly shook her head. "The Storm Engine was a toy. A backup plan. She didn't take it seriously until things fell through with the crystal witchery. She'd give me the powers of crystals through spells, but she also seemed to be giving up her life. She just started wasting away, and even when she stopped she didn't get better. It was like she was infected with it now, and couldn't ever get better."

OoOoOo

Beckoning Lynn over to the work table, Lark doesn't look up from the crystal in her hands. "All right, Lynn. We're going to try something different this time." ("And she took my hand, put the crystal in it, but didn't let go. We both held on for a bit, focusing on I don't even know what. She was so vague- but then, not even she knew what she was doing.") "Titan's MIGHT!"

("It worked like it usually did- except now I was her guinea pig instead of the Dark Ace.

"What were you, crazy? Didn't you see what it had done to her? What if-"

You're so beautiful when you're hypocritical

"I wasn't the one casting spells. Neither was the Dark Ace. The only one affected, it seemed, was her, and she-" )

"Don't let go," she quickly warns Lynn, grasping the crystal between them, her gaze fixed on the other girl. "Don't let go. Just look at me... and try to feel."

("Feel what, the magic? Crystals are a science, not- not voodoo."

"I know. It didn't make much sense then... it's just what she said."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound anal but- whatever she was trying to do doesn't sound like any kind of- you know what, I'm gonna shut up. Keep telling the story. ")

They look at each other, Cyclonis visibly shaking with every breath as she focused on Lynn and Lynn tried to feel. "Feel... what? What am I supposed to feel?"

There was a fine outline on each of their bodies, a shimmering of light. Cyclonis' was a deep, rich purple, contrasting sharply everywhere it touched Lynn's foggy orange-red. Lynn wondered if it was weird that she sometimes saw little flashes of blue snake in and out every so often. Cyclonis' didn't change color at all. "I don't know," she finally admitted, and the light went out. "The translations of the manuscripts I have are- well, there are words that don't have a definition in our language."

Lynn mourned the fizzle of her power for only a moment before curiosity took over. "Can I see them?"

("Naturally I wasn't much help. But I tried to be. We looked over them together-" with me holding her from behind, my arms wrapped around her, trying to protect her from the world when she was the only thing dangerous there. "I had begun to have my doubts about my feelings about her. I was afraid everything we had was fake, that I was being programmed somehow though she said I wasn't. I didn't believe her.")

"No crystal mage who learns of this power is eager to try it due to the dangers involved. I suppose I thought my will was stronger than that of the...." and she stops talking all of a sudden, clenching her teeth tightly in anger. She presses her palms flat against the table. "Bascially, Lynn, I've ripped open myself. I'm using my body as a conduit from there to here. And I'm letting it come through me into this world."

("That is what she had been doing. Dabbling in magic. Portals to- other places."

"That's....."

Silence.

This is when the story starts to go really bad. Lynn struggles with it. "One night, she had it bad. Worse than the other times." )

After the clatter of beakers and crystals onto the floor it only takes seconds for Lynn to scramble over to where Lark lay, but there was no way to catch the young empress, or to erase the lines of blood crawling down her face. "Lark!" Her stab of fear lessens only slightly when she examines the girl. "Oh, you hit your face on the desk edge..."

"Yeah, that f-fucking desk," Cyclonis laughs, or tries to laugh, and tries to sit up, but can't even move. "What did it plan to achieve by doing that? Oohhh..."

It stops being so funny for her when the world unhinges, all the spikes holding it down finally ripping free. The fabric of reality ripples in the wind and she finds she can move after all- just to avoid hurling on her girlfriend. Mostly. She is bleeding quite profusely now. It runs into her mouth, a strange relief of copper after the sour yellow bile that erupted from her empty stomach.

"Oh, jeez," Lynn says, literally picking her Master up off the floor and settling her down in a chair. "I'll take care of this, hold on."

Faintly behind her she can hear Cyclonis pleading with her not to leave, but she doesn't listen. A talon is ordered to clean the mess and Lynn comes back with a pitcher of water and a glass. The first two rinse out Lark's mouth, then she slowly works on draining the rest to fill her stomach.

Lynn wipes at the blood on Lark's forehead, face a picture of patience. Lark looks at her, almost doleful. "Don't start," Lynn warns her before she opens her mouth. "Do not start with the dying sick girl bullshit. You're going to get better."

("I don't recall if it was raining that whole night, but I know that in that moment I heard the rain crash against the windows, and she wanted to see the storm approach. She got up on her own, walked over to the glass. Pressed her nose against it like a kid, like watching snow fall for the first time.")

But it never snows in Cyclonia.

(It's evident the art of losing is not hard to master.)

"Lark!"

Again, again she falls. But this time she wouldn't get up. She grips the front of Lynn's shirt, saying, "No. Don't move me." It is the look in her face that lets the nightcrawler know something is different. Her eyes are widened as much as they could, pupils nothing more than a drop of black on a purple background. And Lynn knows that this will be one order she wouldn't disobey. She says, "I'll get the d-" "Please don't. Please don't."

Something happens, something so frightening Lynn thought she might have died from the realization of what is happening to Lark's eyes, Lark's strong, beautiful eyes. Tears well up-

(Tears welled up.)

"I'll be dead by the time you come back."

As if this were one of their arguments. As if she can contradict this. "No, Lark. No."

"Don't leave." She starts to shake. "Please don't leave?"

"I won't leave, we both will. This is just a bad spell. We're going to weather it out. Like the storm, right?" She is holding her hand too tightly, but there is reassurance in that. They can feel each other, feel the life they have tying them to this plane of existence.

Lark curls her fingers tight in Lynn's hair, face buried in her chest. The other hand still clutching Lynn's. Somehow wrapped up in each other's arms. Trying to touch, trying to connect, trying to feel. She has to feel, she doesn't know what, but she knows that Lynn is her only chance. And she knows it's because "I love you, Randilynn. I love you. P-please don't leave." Every word, tumbling out and stained with tears of terror and pain. She transforms, from an ailing empress to a fifteen year old girl. "Oh god,

A sudden gust of wind slaps the rain against the glass, lightning followed by thunder almost loud enough to make her scream.

-it's coming for me ."

Fear can drive us to do amazing things. It lets Cyclonis' dead limbs awaken, frantically search for something hidden in her sleeves. She pulls out a crystal, places it against Lynn's chest. "We need to try," she rasps, "We need to... You need to... Lynn, it has to be you..." Frantic. Eyes darting. Breathing hard.

("So was that it? She was hinging all her plans on the hopes that you would feel strongly enough about her that she wouldn't die? You think that's why she chose you in the first place, got close to you?"

"I don't think she had planned anything at that point.")

Hopeless, broken tears run freely now, the strength of the world flowing through Lynn's body. Two different colors clash against each other, surely as if there is a window between them, refusing to let them merge, refusing to let the rain in, or the calm out. There is a difference now, though- for once, Lynn is burning the brightest, purest lavender. But the shades separating her from Cyclonis' deep twilight purple is a gap she can not cross, no matter how much she wants to.

(Though it might look like-)

Even if this time, she really does feel, it isn't enough.

"Lark..."

"I love you."

"Oh god..."

"Th... the desk... cryst... crystal... get the... get the..."

("I c-could feel her slipping from my hands," Lynn said, wishing it still didn't hurt her, wishing it still didn't terrify her. "I could feel her dying right there and I couldn't d-do anything.")

"Oh god, no, please don't. No. No, no, no nononoLark-" she's limp. "N-No! No! NO!"

("I never knew you could feel someone die. I didn't know you could see it. Saying I couldn't believe it doesn't even begin to cover how I felt.")

She refuses to believe it. Out of terror more than anything else, but there was rage present in her that night, something so deep and vicious it burned.

"LARK! LARK, NO!"

Some small part of her is trained, and knows how to react. Lark had given her an order, just before slipping into that other place. Somehow Lynn remembers how to use the defibrillator in the desk, a flat sheet crystal, good for one use. She is trained how to use it- Nightcrawlers her rank were trained as field medics- doesn't matter she uses it-

("And I think those were actually the last orders Lark ever gave me.")

Coughing, breathing, out of control. Lark twitches and live again, eyes fogged.

("And I think..." she was trembling. "I think that made something mad.")

She screams for help from someone, anyone, get the doctor quick and-

SLAM.

She is ten feet in the air, pinned against the wall with something holding her by the throat, kicking at nothing.

"Eagle's Flight!"

The next few seconds pass very fast. Something is gone, blasted away, and Lark is on her knees and one hand, the other hand steady as she points the crystal at Lynn.

"Lynn!"

Lynn sweeps down, scoops up the master, and takes the only exit she sees: The window. Assuming whatever grabbed her obeys certain laws of physics, it should have been knocked towards the doorway. It is invisible. She can't fight it. She can't protect herself... or Lark.

Crash

The rain sizzles around them, protected by the spell and kept dry, and Lynn and Lark fly without a skimmer, like that day where Lark was showing off, where they held each other as tight as they could. Lark can't keep up the spell and they crash land just outside, and Lark needs to fight to keep from blacking out, from her body failing her.

Lynn gets her face out of the mud to see- Lark on her back, trying to prop herself up and scoot backwards, looking at something. Yards away. How did they land so far away?

((Write it!))

"I won't go like this," she breathes to it, unblinking, on the verge of madness... madness dawning upon her, practically drowning in the pouring rain. The spell is gone and they are subject to the whims of nature again. Lynn squelches through the mud, sprinting towards Lark.

Lightning explodes, almost no time elapsing between the act and the sound.

And Lark gets to her feet, the world around her invisible but for it, a crystal in one hand, prepared to fight for her life. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

(Lynn made a stabbing motion with her hand, focused on the floor in front of her. Though Piper felt her body heat next to hers, she could see that Lynn's mind was there in the rain, running to save Lark, and again-)

She simply crumples to the floor, an undramatic ending to this dark tale.

(-getting there too late .)

Something cracks, a blast of white fear and pain, and Lynn falls into the darkness.

(like disaster.)

End of Flight Complex: Chapter Seven.

"One Art."