The Aloft Champion

by Starry's Light

Rupert could hardly believe, understandably, when he found her. And now, after watching the love of his life crumble into naught but the shell of someone else's soul, he's not sure he knows who he is, either. But with her fall comes the fall of people, one after another, so with a swallowing of pride he lifts into what he hopes will be an ending of these ancient monsters.

10. Rt: Returning Fear

Mier: WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE

Rupert: -nervous staring at the walls because walls are obviously deadly-

Todd: -giggling at random intervals-

Luk: dude this is... this is something

Rupert: -faraway look on face- something...

Luk: Psh, what are you even doing, dude?

Rupert: -blushes, looking away- J-Just thinking.

Mier: WELL ANYWAYS

Todd: I like him

Luk: I like him too

Rupert: he has spoken but seven words, how does this tell you anything about him?

Todd: he doesn't understand

Luk: heck no

Rupert: -sighs-

The Aloft Champion

Chapter 10: Returning Fear

Rupert

It is with a long and worrisome struggle that I win over myself the thought of entering that cabin a second time. While devoid of the once piercing cackle of that ancient—Illit, as she so told me not to forget—I cannot help myself, cannot help the anxieties that cloud my mind with little cold fingers in my head. Of course there is reason for such conviction, after my first visit: but with the silence one would think this would decrease, not seize me with a burning sensation every few steps past the doorway. I try to ignore it, that and our conglomeration of shadows on the scraggly wooden walls, but I cannot help it and glance every so often in the general direction of nothing.

My heart still races with each step and it is not until the approach of the kitchen area and as Luk slams into me a second time that I manage to take control of myself into my hands. With a breath I steady, and with careful precision I press my back against the rough walls and I keep myself there for some time, chest heavy.

Ruuuupert? I start. The gentle voice does not waver. Dearie, what ails you so? Oh, I know the cold may have bitten at your complexion, dearie, but after your red nose and ears and cheeks, everything else is so, so pale! It worries me, you know this! O-Oh, of course. But how does one explain..? Well I suppose if I substitute words for memory Mistress can ingest enough of my feelings without too much difficulty. But the recurring cabin in my head leaves her silent, and so I wait with my eyes nearly closed once again.

A-Ah. Mistress. Her big ruby eye catches me from her guardlike position by the entranceway. You have no need to situate yourself with my ordeals. It was... a strange occurrence, yes, but it also saved me when I was out in the snow for however long last night. So I wish to believe it alright. The voice is gone, the voice of that big light-rearing ancient has dissipated... Curious, I whisper, Is it possible she left of her own will? Or... perhaps even lost so much power in her attempt to... um... collect me that she is gone?

Pause. She gnaws at her muzzle instinctively, and upon my notice immediately halts, her heat of embarrassment touching me in little nudges. I-I don't know. Out of all the ancients we've met, I-I guess it's possible? I just... wouldn't really know, Rupert. There are so many and their echoes of power float about on this world... and all we can do is wonder. So long as... we keep a good eye on you... I'm sure even if your, ah, friend is around here somewhere, she will remain in her place.

"Friend?" Todd's head shoots toward me, his dress clumped in layers around him.

I blush. "N-No, no friends."

Of course this Luk hears and he misunderstands and seizes this as opportunity to shove his shoulder against mine another time. "Stop lying to yourself, Rupyyyy!"

"No—I... I mean..." Now I am losing my words... ah, curses. "I am n-not talking of either of you, o-or anyone else whom you would know..!" And finding my answer satisfactory but stale, they swerve off to leave me to my quiet. Their chatter remains a backdrop to my beating heart and hasty breaths.

Brushing Todd off to his conversation, the pinkette by him swerves back around for... for—past Mistress—past Gyntis—and past Pippy—Oh. I step back, mildly appalled. "What is it you want?" He watches intently to my words. The uneasiness drags like a finger down my spine and I nearly cease, but it is like he continues to probe even after I inquired of his own purposes. "Wh-What..? Please... I merely wish to know what—"

"Mmmmh? Can't I pester you if I'd like to?" So now you speak. I avert my gaze. Those... eyes are a little... startling. Such a piercing texture of... gold. "Alright, so you don't take kindly to pestering." Please do not remind me of my krona like so. "Hmmmnn. You're... the quiet one, aren't you? Yeah. That's it. Your comrades over to the side... Luke and... Tidd and... yeah, them. That's close enough. They go on and babble their nonsense... but you're not like that, are you?" Oh, his accent... lilting and gentle yet striking in pieces: yorrr nawt laaaaik thaht, arrrh yooooh? Something about it... is so enchanting—I shake my head, wincing.

I think Mier finds... pleasure... in my expression. Now, quietly in my head, I bicker over the prospect of while... flaunting, Camri has never rippled in such enjoyment of my pain in him. The pinkette stands a satisfying few inches above me, his slanted hair—cut at lengths diverse enough to be considered distracting—a bright compliment to the pale pinkish skin. Very faint, but blaring in one's face... and that strange twisted grin makes home on his lips.

"I am like... myself." D-Do not bristle so under his glare. "While it may be true Luk and Todd"—I sense a faint increase of strength in my voice as I recall Mier's failed pronunciation—"speak as they do... th-that does not give much to our other aspects. And... as... ah, talkative as they can be, I rather prefer their presence than to... some." Y-Yes, I am speaking ill of him in front of his face. But I hardly know of him... and it is my virtue, to come off... distant as I am to strangers.

"Hmmm! You're a funny one, Rupert."

The stutter encroaches before I regain thought: "A-Am I?" I nearly add that naught a soul has ever found me any slight amusing... yet somehow the lilt on his sharp face suggests I need not. Besides... he is not truly the first. Hah... Goodness, if I am not careful I will come off a fool to this boy... if I have not already. Somehow there is a sense of a weight to his figure... and I feel that to diverge from Mier would not be a simple decision.

And those golden eyes... I see my own in his pupils, a much weaker type than those... sharp, blaring points of... hostility. Just being around him addles my complexion if but slightly. "Yes, I'd like to think so." A point of tooth reveals itself with the curl of his lip. "Funny. At least with your type of humor you're subtle enough not to take note of it yourself, mmh? Hahah... your confusion is funny too."

Smiling weakly, I turn again: facing those eyes head-on is... exerting. "Perhaps it could be so." Truly he... worries me. Even the one or ones who did call me an enjoyment, humorous or otherwise, were exceptions of their own kind. Lifting laughter out of anyone rather unnerves me...

"Psh! That face!" Ah... this does not help. "That... dumbfounded face of yours! Oh, you poor thing!" Wh-While I understand my lack in perception of the world, having been under the palm of my father for so long... it is not that blatant, is it? Maybe I am overly perceptive to this... boy. I-I should not allow myself to grow so... addled... in his face. But... there are advantages to being open as well. Then I wonder—as frivolous as it is to think of much longer, if I asked one of my vivosaurs, Sunny perhaps, then maybe she could tell me...

Mmm? The marple in question catches her name in midst of my thoughts. Humorous? Oh. Ah. No, this is... idiocy. I-It is no matter. Yeaaaah. I'm not going to be too blunt about it... but you're not exactly, um... funny. Pfff... no, that's just a weird thought. Besides! I catch Mier's eye shift as Sunny raises her voice; so he hears her as well. You haven't even laughed for anything, yourself or otherwise, like... ever! I'll be honest, Rupert: you didn't even smile for ancients know how long... I mean, you're so... upright, and serious, and... stilted. Snort.

My eyes draw away. Of... Of course. This is... n-not disappointment. Oh, ignore me. Perish the thought: I do not know what I am... thinking.

And Mier returns to my side, his small hands up and outward in the air. "What's it... with that faraway glance"—the fingers shake weakly—"in your eyes? Rupert... mmmmh, you talk of some thing and then detach yourself from it. Looks... exhausting. Goodness." The eyes draw closer, and I try not to look too far into his direction. He whispers, gently, "What is it you're looking for, Rupert..? What is it you seek..?"

On the other side of the chamber, Luk and Todd find the cabinets—and the food held within. It is not until their explosion subsides that I can hear myself think again. My heart pinches as I realize they were... much weaker... than I presumed upon regrouping—no, before even that—when we first all came together, even, I never lifted even a finger to ask them how they felt... how strong or perhaps lacking they may have been. Oh, Luk in that helicopter for I cannot even say how long... suffering from unspoken things that may or may not be ailing him even now... In a breath I release my tension.

They are fine now. Re...lax.

A brief foray goes on between the cans and their contents before I finally work up the notion to ask either of the two boys: "Now that we have settled here and at least have warmed for the time being... what shall we do next?" Luk, face partially stuffed, raises a flushed head as he tries to swallow a little too early for some of his food. I lose the courage to say any more as he coughs on what he has and takes some time trying to fix what he has done unto himself.

"So um!" Fit having ended, eyes red at the ends, he starts off: "So! Like... Like you were saying!" A strange spark has entered his hazel eyes. "We gotta... we gotta... a, like... like, plan! Stuff! Do thing! I mean we probably need to chill longer than, like, five minutes or whatever but... but Rupy's right! Seriously... what next? Here we are, screwing around the place, and we don't even know what we're trying to accomplish!" I nearly mention Dina but I doubt that is what he meant so I abstain.

Mier is silent as we trade glances. Our quiet grows outside of the shifting of cans, and with it the weight in my heart—as it feels, strangely, like little grains of time drop with each passing moment, a pressure digging further inside with the length of a wavering wait. Something, anything, we were dried of process. All that mattered on my side—and I suppose the others to an extent as well—is to, of course, lift Zoazoa from the cage she has placed on... Dina. But, recalling... ancient sightings certainly have been on the rise alongside our struggle in the snow. And... that is it, no? I have never... had a reason to know what was next, what came after, what connected where... so this feeling of empty... openness... i-is baffling to say the least. Terrifying, if I were to expand... but to expand questions another level of thought entirely, and I do not think I am yet ready for that.

It hurts enough thinking outside of her. But here I am, pressing against these limits... day by day by day. It feels so... so strange, truly, nothing much more than strange, to be pondering... this, I guess: life in... in general. Is that strange? Yes, I suppose so. Allowing the workings of others to create my life would not make it my life at all, would it? Then I am but the mindless doll my father wished to make me, hollow on the inside but for his own contempt. Here I am... Here I am, empty and... lost and... scared. Y-Yes. Yes. I nod weakly to myself, just to myself, but subtly: encountering the thought now, oh... help me, I am scared. Not scared enough to cry or to run or to hide, but the fear is ice in my veins and now that I feel it it is that much harder to think than it already was.

Finally a word. Small, splashing softly... at the ends of a roaring wave... of this fear. But it is enough, oh, graciously enough, to take the stress off of myself... a-and for that I am so grateful. Todd, now his head raised, the curls in his eyes, the eyes rubbed at by hands, his hands gripping for those curls so that they will stop the itch on his face, he cries, "Oh my gosh! Guys, guys! I stillllll haven't found Pauleen! Like... Like! What the hecking heck! She should've friggin showed up by now, that... that butt! Oh, oh! Ah!" He turns to me hurriedly. "Rupy, we can totally go look for her, right? Like, it's Pauleeeeeen!"

The smile returns. Understanding its origins causes pain nearly amounting to the one I found when all this fear began. "Of course, Todd. She is... o-our friend"—oh, the stutter—"as well, yes?"

"Heheh!" His beam in turn denounces mine a weak thing. "Yeah she is! I'm sure she'll be aaaaallll sortsa happy and stuff to help us figure out what we're gonna do once we have her with us! And... And maybe, once we find other people... dude, we could... we could like make an entire army! Like, I have no idea what we would do if we hecking got one, but, but, but we could and that's the awesome part!"

His excitement is infectious. It pulls at the pressure inside of me until finally, gallantly, the strings come undone. If but for a moment, the strings come undone. That lopsided... oversized... powerful smile. I doubt I could ever manage something as... incredible as his. I fear my... face would hurt... if I tried. And maybe his does, I do not know: but it is the fact that he does it anyways that... amazes me.

I wonder if maybe the day will come when...

Oh, what a foolish thought. But it seems I cannot help it, so it does not go away, like the tiny weak smile on my face.

This I do not perish. No... this I do not. Todd raises his enchanting brown eyes and gives this little giggle, his hands out. "So... So we can go find her, right? We can... have her... like!" A burst of excitement has him jump—loudly—upon the floorboards. "And we can get her to join our army! Cuz we'll be unstoppable! With our army!" By this point Luk's forehead has furrowed and he slowly, carefully maneuvers his way toward the yelling boy in the dress, as if he is not a boy but a bewildered animal.

"HYAH!" A well-placed hit upon his back and Todd ceases, his face tinging with the hints of embarrassment. He mumbles around Luk and his victory that he did not know he had gotten overwhelmingly so and you-could've-said-something-Rupert-geez-having-Luk-do-all-the-dirty-work.

Mier, beside me, allows a small grin, one that suggests a snobbish level above the boys more than anything else. A curiosity, I watch him as he shifts his hands into the pockets of his outrageous brown jacket—I watch the indention where his arms actually are fluctuate beneath waves of fabric. And where I look, I note an earring—hidden behind choppy lengths of that pink hair—fitted into the lobe, one of a peculiar shining gem, a second above it a black hoop. If I squint the little gem takes form and nearly resembles sockets and jawline and forehead and so nearly resembles a—"Rupert, by ancients' blood, what is it you stare at so intently?"—a face.

What... a piece of jewelry. Swallowing, I unearth some excuse—lost in thought—but that head-like entity squeezes itself into my mind, alongside a threadlike coil of wonder, of that strange golden gem so nearly resembling a face—and a such a face, so profound and heavy in bone structure.

Somehow it... entranced me. I would rather not look upon such peculiarities so I drop the notion and push forward, murmur, "Earrings?" and he starts.

"Ah! Do you like them?" Mier situates himself closer to me, close enough his warm breath is on my cheek and out of comfort I step back, but he so casually steps forward that if not for the gleam in those rapacious eyes of his I would have presumed it was mere subconscious that steered him toward me. The golden thing on his ear, the hard obsidian hook above, resembling more tooth than puncture, more tear than pierce, more bite than careful, catches my eye once again.

"They are..." Oh, I sift for the fitting word. "Suitable. Suitable... for you." I glance off, those eyes too burning, to mesmerizing for me to handle. "At least... for as much as I know of you."

Somehow I feel that this was... the right thing to say, if there is such a thing that is so... correct. "Mmmmh. Well I'd say that's enough." The hot breath, the burning eyes, the smolder of needles wrestled into my skin. I shake my head and I turn off again, nearly stepping on Sunny as I do. She senses it in me first—being right there—being practically stepped on for the umpteenth time this week—and she starts up and she is ready.

To follow? Why she would follow is beyond me but I make a quick decision right there that if she wishes to, so be it, I will not stop her. Not... this time. No.

I take in another breath, hands clasped in front of me. "Yes, well..." A sweeping glance along the area, exhausted Luk and Todd, this rather strange and nearly delusional-seeming pinkette, and I start again. "I believe the time has come for all to rest, as we have... been exposed to some harsh elements in these past few days. So I will... take my leave now."

He never did precisely tell us where to stay, but that is in no mind for me. I did not plan on searching for bedding... my mind cannot rest right now, no matter the strain I have put my body into. It reminds me of another thing, of when Dina would have nightmares and her solution was to sleep less... which of course eventually caught up with her until she crashed into her oblivion. But I am not... of such restrictions, though I do admit that when she was awoken by harsh dreams it would wake me usually, so I never slept much either.

Maybe I should. I pause then as I leave, my steps slower and I think about this. The hard soles in my boots crack against the wood like punishments, but as I ease so does the severity until almost I reach a... surer, a gentler pitch if none otherwise. And it comes to me again: maybe I should sleep. It has been some time since I actually had an undisturbed rest... perhaps the last time I did was when I woke up on the cold stone basement floor of Nomadistan Palace... when she was first gone and perhaps it was the pain or her pain or something but I was too tired to go on. If I keep at this it is possible my strength will finally waver at a poorly appointed time, like while I trudge through any other blizzard... then I could die. Again... I would toss my life into the current as if it held no value.

Does it?

I cannot tell. Not now. I would rather think of other trivial things.

What I know is that I will not sleep tonight, even as another day ends by the blow of another force of ebbing strength somewhere inside of me... so why I go on, and why I hold my head up and try again is beyond me, but there it is, I guess. Todd and Luk and their fading voices—soft yet loud at the same time—send a small ache in my heart. But I go on even so. I need... to get out of that chamber. Out of that pinched and probing face, those scalding gold eyes, the tongue of word that twists in my head. What a strange... boy he is. Mier. Even the name is foreign when I tease it across my lips, mere, meeyarrre... and I ponder at his existence, a shy slight I had not seen prior to today.

Sunny is quiet behind me. There may be others following but I do not disturb my wonder for them. Perhaps Camri—oh, goodness, Camri. There is only so much of a flamboyant presence that I can take in at once, but only small spoonfuls can I handle in a sitting. Although... if he can be quiet too, then I will not mind. Is... that so wrong to think of? Oh, perhaps that is not the way to see others, crozzled by what I find lacking... I would rather not consider Camri outside of the outrageous thing he is, though.

To the left, past the bedchamber I had seen just earlier, up the stairs on the other hallway, through one chamber, into another. There is no voice, no feeling, no even hint of the presence I was so nearly captured by in here... and for a moment I wonder if I remembered it wrong. But that is not... how it was... is it? I-I am sure Illit is real—or was, in any case. Though if I never saw her again I admit I would not feel any sorrow. She also... reminds me of Camri. I suppose I harbor an inconvenience about those... types of people.

But Luk and Todd are not so far away from such. While tamer than the latter, my... childhood friend has his little moments, and Todd is in a world of his own, honestly. Pauleen—who I recall almost fondly at times—is perhaps a step above these two when it comes to raucousness, though she takes life in a rather... brash manner. These traits... are what flaunt so blatantly in my eye, but of course these are the opposite of what I see in myself.

Perhaps... that is a good thing.

But Dinu... my cousin Dinu resembles me, no? I mean... she takes a harsher standpoint as well as Pauleen—although nowhere near as boisterous as the others—and she comes off as condescending... easily. But she is quieter. Oh, is that such a bad way to characterize others? Louder and softer, boisterous and placid?

Does that mean Dinu should join our dubbed army too? Would she... see an interest too? She can be alarmingly self-centered, though I admit I come off as that in ways too. Yet here I am... Although, she never took much of an interest in Dina, now that I think of it: she was pleased enough I found myself someone who made me happy but she herself took scorn at the... gentleness.

Which is what I like. Gentle.

Though... if Luk was gentle he never would have been so emotional, never would have hit me and then cried and hugged me and felt pain so real that he needed to show everyone. Show me. If he was gentle would he have followed? I do... not know... if that could make such a difference in the boy.

Eventually, falling out of my aimless circles, I situate myself on the ground. There is carpet on the floor of this room—one large circular rug—which I lift and tug toward the window, and I sit and put my hands on the sill and I watch, feeling such a child inside of me.

The snow is nice. Small... flaky, white. Little designs encrusted like kisses on the glass until desolation: a harsh enough blow of the wind, enough to snap the tiny body into pieces carried far, far away from here. My breath fogs on the glass and I try to rub at it but it does not go away and I stare, weakly, at the whitish cloudy spot as it disintegrates on its own. When I poke it—hesitant—a laugh bursts from beside me.

I give Sunny a strange look and she laughs a little more. And then she shakes her head like this is her secret and telling me would ruin the fun. Oh... goodness. With a bit of a stilted air, I turn from her and watch as another big enough breath spreads across the glass... and while she is not looking I poke two small holes, a curve... then when she looks I try to cover it with my hands.

Rupert. Snort. How old were you again? Watching me blush and look away, try for some reasonable excuse we both know I do not have, she giggles a second time. It's weirdly... precious, almost, coming from you. In a way. Heh. Sort of. But really... the most generic of 'smiley-faces' out of all things? Well I suppose you have to start somewhere.

I drop my gaze when she stops staring, and I feel the warmth of the glass dispel beneath me; when my fingers lift, there is no more "smiley-face" o-or whatever. I-I like it, I mumble, in some attempt of repairing my hurt pride, so what d-does it matter?

The way Sunny eyes me sends a strange feeling my chest alive... so I look away again. It is... embarrassing. Oh, goodness. But I am the only one here, other than she, so I try again, puffing small breaths—a little snowman, carrot in his head, buttons and scarf down his middle, a top hat, stick arms waving in the air.

She makes a small sound in her throat. It's alright.

Alright? I mutter despite better judgment. Then what does your bloody world require for something more than alright?

Like this is some game, there is another giggle. I don't know. You need more than old glass and the water vapor in your breath to make art, Rupert. Paints. Brushes. Honestly, even just paints would make it art in some name of another. Or graphite... sketches, drawings. Clay formations. Usually overly realistic ones.

So this is not art? I stare blankly at the fingerprints staring back at me.

Psh. She shakes her head. No. Not to me, this is not art. Though I suppose that doesn't mean it's not for you, you child.

My eyes lower, but I catch her smile, and that makes me feel a little better about it.

Is there something amiss in this form? It is creation, expression of oneself, aesthetics, no? I smirk lightly. Is it the absence of paint or the absence of clay or the absence of graphite that takes any hope of 'aesthetics' from little drawings on the glass? Need you a guideline on 'acceptable art' to follow? My eyes raise somewhat. How could that be art if you restrain yourself to strict ideals?

Sunny, a low grin on her face, her eyes nary closed, slaps her fin against the glass. How about that, Rupert? Is that art for you? Watching my eyes trail her, she pulls out her other little fin and presses that in too. Fin prints. Mm? Is that enough? Does another one, for good measure, and situates her golden self smirking back at me.

Her ensemble is... amusing. So your art is mere pander of others. She stiffens, face taut. Sunny. You cannot copy, as much of a flattery as it is considered: you must express yourself. Not me. Not anyone else.

O-Oh come on! I was making a point! Now she is flustered. My smirk loses its hint of satire. I look away again. Ru-Rupert! That's no fair..! She goes on puttering this for some few more seconds before her pause and her gaze, which tilts toward me. Is that a smile? Oh. Of course.

I continue ignoring her, as that is the easiest way to prolong a discussion I would rather not partake in. But as her loud thoughts digress a little louder, I mutter, You are not Mistress either—there is no need for you to go through such measures over something so... small. And you are not Luk for that matter.

She scowls; I can feel it in her words. I know that..! Somehow her silence is more cutting than her speech; the air is noticeably colder for some time. What are you suggesting, anyways? You don't... know me. Honestly. You hardly know anything about any of us. S-So what if I'm pleased that a boy who's hardly smiled in all of his life is finally felt joy? Mmmmh! Is there something wrong with that? Am I not allowed to act a certain way, to be a certain way, around other people? Is this my conformity?

I wince.

That is... right. Is it not? No... but of course. How, ah, foolish of me to act in such a... careless way. With people... with feelings... it is all so easy to... to hurt one another. Like carving their heart out of stone, and one single mishap nearly bisects it. And... stone does not come back together once it has come apart. Not... easily. This must be a dance, this life, where single steps mark you astray, where little touches so easily sway the world watching in one direction... or the other. Or even one you never thought it would come to. That is... not so simple.

It was easier to think it was. Once. There was nobody outside of my father who did not see me in some harsh, artificial light; and he was another story I rather thought not of. There was nobody out there who would manage to penetrate this barrier of mine so long as it was deep and it was harsh enough. There was nobody who saw inside of this... saw inside of me... and saw a loneliness as harsh as my distance.

Such a lie almost amounted to something... beautiful, was it not so cruel... on so many different levels. But I guess there is beauty in such pain as well.

My... apologies, Sunny. First comes first. I am not very skilled in arts of... conversation, of relation. Dina was... in a way, easy. Too easy, it felt like at times. We... got along so well... but it is not as if everyone will see me so well as she has, and it is not as if I will see everyone so well as I have seen her. I do not truly know many people... and I cannot truly understand the differences that set others apart. It is not at all that there were never problems... but she brought me so much joy, in despite of flaws, in despite of any pain. Not yet. Not... really. For as far as I know... unless I do not change, this may continue.

What a... troublesome path to follow.

The marple beside me has shifted in the midst of my thoughts and my voice. Sky blue eyes stare quizzically back, and it is not until I cease that she regains much sense of composure. Mmmnh. It's fine. I came off harsh anyways. I'm rather good at that, yes? Bluntness most especially is my skill. Bluntness... how strange. I know... someone else with such bluntness. But that's well... that's something else! Bah... I came off a little nosy, asking you about that. Sorry. You're not even used to it yourself... you always shy away when you smile. Doesn't matter who you're with, and you at least know Luk and Mistress, at least mostly.

Mostly? I never... thought of it as so much. Maybe she is right. I watch the marple now, and I catch her subtle sense of... is that pride? I—I think I will go on pretending I did not... see such a thing. It is not what I would like to... think about.

It is so much easier to read others when I actually give them my attention. Then why it is so... hard... to lose myself within conversation? Ah... what trouble.

Dina was blunt too... and I admit she was always rather easy to read. Her face brightly flushed when she was embarrassed; she began to cry when she was sad; she could not hold her stance or your gaze if she was flustered, or if she was attempting to lie; she shut down when signs of frustration revealed; and she smiled, and she giggled a soft giggle when she was happy.

I suppose some of her rubbed off upon me: a blank face has so... vividly picked up emotions now. I never blushed, I never cried, I never... none of these—especially not smile, no, never. It was not merely an act of hiding my emotions: truly, by the end of it the feeling had ebbed from inside of me. How someone as tender... and gentle... and emotional as her had managed to reverse these effects I am unsure... but there it is.

Emotions... may be weakness. But I want her to know how I am feeling. I want her to see me... happy.

Oohhhhh! Are you talking about that orangey-haired girl again? I flinch; why is he here and why now of all times? C'monnnnn! You can tell meeeeee~ Ruuuu-peeeertt! Just because I disliiiike her doesn't mean I don't caaaaare!

Sunny notes the look on my face and bites her lip. I sigh. Yes, I know. She does her best not to giggle in front of me, which I appreciate, but it is rather obvious just by the look on her own face how nearly she is to it. I cannot understand that foppish... idiot. Ah, he is so...

RUUUPEERRTTTTTT! I flinch again.

What is it?

Finally Camri loops through the final corridor and has found us. Oh! There you are! I knewww you were around here somewhere! My great tracking abilities could simply smell it! Hah! Oh, dear... And... Sunny! Mmmmmhmm! You must be simply elated to be reunited with me as well, yes? Oh, there is no otherwise! I have no need to ask! Well I trust you're feeling much better now that I am of your immediate vicinity!

I can't describe the exasperation upon the marple's face. That's preposterous! Wh-What on earth are you! Though it must be noted, duly or not, that her face has shaded itself an extreme blush of red.

You did not forget so soon, did you now? He pauses, and as I turn, his maw quivers with the grace of a smooth, waxy smirk. My hesitation compels him, perhaps along the thinking that my slackened stare was for and not against him. Invalid thinking. But even so Camri is seemingly incapable of looking any way but down on everyone who is not himself, and up otherwise. It's the only sense that could be made, Sunny! Of course you long for me! I mean—scoff—who doesn't? Alright, Camri... alright then. As greatly as I would like to differ with him and make him see otherwise... I fear there are some too stubborn for any means of a contradiction.

But it does make me wonder why he thinks so. My eyes wander back to the glass wall, my little fingerprint smudges shining faintly in the cold light of the stars. Beside me, Sunny is reflected, her form a bright yellow; Camri, too far beyond, is left as but a besmirched blue in the background. Sighting this, he scoots closer. Small droplets fleck to my shoulder from where he lies. Mmmmh! Such a fine form, no? Oh, who am I kidding! Why else do all who gaze upon it fawn over me so greatly? There is no other reason than that of my excellency!

Sunny's blushing face crumples into a grimace. You make me sick..! Ulhhh. Rolls her eyes. I note her gaze pulling away from the krona yet at the same time wavering, and thus her face pinches even more. I hate this.

Oh, whatever do you mean, Sunny? cries Camri, appalled. How could you hate a single thing while I am right beside you?!

How are you even alive?! How?! I-I don't understand! You have you managed this long! I... I... ahhhh, I suppose I'll never know, n-now will I, huh... hnnng..! Sunny flinches upon herself, a small scowl on her face. You don't even make sense. None of you does. By the quivering she makes and the fidgeting figure I presume she is trying to hide the stubborn blush which refuses to disappear from her cheeks.

The suave expression he carefully flourishes does no wonders for the marple. She has managed to tear her gaze away and from the injury in her own eyes she must be upset with herself for staring long enough. It must be... difficult, their lifestyle, the carnal enticement of some while all she wants is to wall herself in... unable to. One cannot deny my lavishness, oh no, he croons.

I wonder if the day will come when he realizes otherwise.

Finally from the creaking off the floorboards we listen to the approach of a large sauropod, quickly followed by the tik, tik tik, of claws upon wood. Pippy, Mistress. I believe... oh, who was it... Tessa and Gyntis are all that are left. But why these two followed I... I do not even know. Let them be, I surmise, let them be.

Lavishness? the seismo squeaks. I-I mean it's alright, but like... like... may I go on such a stretch as to say that... well... Oh, that would be rude! I-I don't want to be rude! Um! I uh! B-Be as lavish as you'd like, Camri? He ends his statement with a shrill crack that causes most in the general area to wince.

Do not encourage him, mutters Sunny, please don't inflate his ego even more.

Camri starts. Ego? But I am ego! I am glory and beauty of the self, my dear! His pet name curls Sunny's lip as she turns further away from the krona. Oh, dear, perhaps such a fulsome wonder is too much for the little marple, no? Well! Do your best to grow used to me, but only so much that you may bask in my glory; for I am here for you to ogle, oh surely!

Quietly... I close my eyes. The voices, while not loud, while speckled with stutters, while weak, are not unkind voices. And my head grows heavy... listening to all of these personalities, all of these opinions. It is strange... to be so full of the language, of the laughter of anyone, let alone many somebody elses entirely.

Camri barks orders about himself and Pippy calmly attempts to praise him; Sunny grows in her annoyance against him and eventually retorts in turn, only to be ignored by the fulsome krona. But Pippy thanks her, voice albeit weak.

Oh, Camri... do not fret: you are lovely, I assure you, murmurs a voice so low I nigh miss it within the concoction of the others. It is soft, and somber, and just as Camri's is so high-pitched and unrelenting, so is this weak: antipodals circling but backing away at the same time. Like a dance. A very strange... dance.

So I raise my heavy head and heavy heart and attempt to look into the dark ruby eye: Mistress, what is that?

Her smile is fleeting. Mm? Oh, dearie, do not worry. Catching the narrow of my eyes she goes on hurriedly: It is nothing that concerns you, but I am unrelenting as well and she finally cries, Alright! Alright. For once you ask so I tell you that maybe... you think him too bold. Inflated. Fulsome. She shudders with the word. But nobody... is of one dimension. So I think. And I do.

Oh, Mistress...

I turn back around, the weight of my gaze lifted; she sighs softly, and she sits silent then.

It is here the pressure of living again rolls into me, and I feel my head lightly tap into the glass. It is cold, the feeling, but not as cold as I had thought it might be... and I am tired... and it has been... a long time... since I have rested... even but somewhat...

So the voices, oh... the voices... grow dimmer, and dimmer, as if candles are blown out one by one inside of me... until finally... I cannot keep up with conscience...

And things begin to... slip away... for but a strong... strong moment...

There is darkness in my dreams, no color, no sound, merely a comforting null that offers with it no emotional needs. I do not mind. When I wake, though, that is not my sense of... something wrong. The vivosaurs have gone quiet—I think I hear one of them snoring—rather loudly—behind—and the tail of a certain mapo queen is wrapped about me—but as I try and try to strike fire on focus... there is something wrong.

Oh, what is it? Dina—first blitz of a name—but no... no, that was already wrong. That is nothing new. Her name in my mouth but that is nothing new. I gently pry my forehead from where it rests on the glass—only somewhat chilled—and I raise my eyes from their reflections to find... nothing of note. Just snow. Just... a lot of snow. It is pretty, sparkling little bits of snow, but nothing of note.

So I turn, my body a dull ache thrumming throughout me, down in my toes, upon my knees, crawling, crawling, through my head, in my ears: Am I a bell... having been struck? I shaky my head weakly, small smile toying my lips. No. That is foolish thinking.

Finally with a twist the blanket around my figure slides off and I start, my head bracing the window a second time. A silent word in my mouth as I struggle to get myself up on my stiff legs and stare down at the pool of fabric, little worn brown blanket—nothing of note—of course—and I wonder who in the world was here in my vulnerable state, and why a blanket...

It was not... that cold... was it? Two layers: the creamy orange and finely-stitched coat and the one underneath it, my red one. My pants, rather fluffy already, are in no bad shape, and my boots are of thick material. I do not... look cold. One gloved hand reaches out to my face, gently brushes back the bangs and the small strands of white hair, and I feel four tiny cold epicenters lace where I place their tips, my thumb still pushing back hairs.

Immediately I yank them back. H-How cold. Yes. Very cold. I shake my head.

My eyes travel back toward the blanket... and I gather it into my hands, a big swaddled bundle. It would be... unwise to leave it on the ground like a discarded and coarse fabric... only to leave it trampled. It is... a blanket of nice quality... and it is warm. I hold it tightly about my frozen fingers. Carefully I step, and I step, working my way around the rim of the room as if it a difficult art to walk.

When I hear the voice.

Hrr.

I pause, cheeks hot. Wh-Who is there?

Who you think?

My face flushes. I-I..! I do not know... th-that is why I ask..!

Oh. Somehow such a tiny, tiny syllable connotes me into a pit of shame and I sit there, hot guilt in my veins. Sivan.

Sivan, I mutter. But then I see him.

The guttural voice summons with the creature, a heavyset feline who stalks carefully through the corridor and into the chamber like a fantastical beast. Bright flaming orbs in his head draw to me; the yellow fur, cut and cut in stripes of blood red, situates itself as he recognizes me. The smilo continues to stare as I do, as if waiting for something to occur, and then I realize maybe he is. And I wonder if he is waiting for recognition: and then it comes.

Oh. He nods. Smirking. You are one of Pauleen's, are you not? The smilo... who hardly ever spoke a word. He grunts his approval. Then why speak now?

He shakes his bushy head. Understand.

So I mutter again, Oh; then I glance at my vivosaurs and ask him, Do I need to rouse them? but he is already out the door again so I would presume otherwise. Well. Tessa and Gyntis are around here somewhere, yes..? I can summon them.

After having conveyed his message, the smilo is mesmerizingly silent but for a grunt or so here or there: when he trips down one of the steps, when he paws at the door to that bedroom on the left, when a face nearly bashes into mine down the hallway.

I start and step back, pausing, breathing, until the name comes to me. "Mier." I blink. "Mier, what are you doing here?"

The fickle grin. He eyes the blanket. "Was it good of me?" Gesturing toward it. I look away. "Was it... nice?"

Quiet.

"Yes." I pause again. He is watching me strangely. What does... this pinkette want? "Are you coming with us, then? For Pauleen." Sivan utters a grunt—affirmation as to our purpose. Mier offers a short nod when I look, but I think he still requires of something. I pull the blanket out of my arms, step toward him, but he shakes his head no.

"I think you need it." Then, "You looked cold. You were up there for awhile... and you looked cold."

I blush again. "O-Oh.

Then, stumbling, "Th-Thank you."

Finally the golden gaze rolls by me. So that is all he wanted. So as the smilo and myself—soon joined by an annoyed e-raptor and pachy—turn to the entranceway and leave through the door, the taller boy follows... and so he was coming, from wherever he was. Did he let Sivan in? He must have... it is evident the smilo would rather avoid destruction of the chambers. He was... strangely gentle. Asking for doors to open. Grunting down the stairs he so often tripped over.

My boots and Mier's crunch in the snow, each step a methodical churhh. Sivan leads, Tessa and Gyntis flanking him, and Mier and myself toward the back. He is watching me, watching little shivers, breath of white in the air, and the longer we go the further annoyance flecks in his golden eyes. Eventually he nabs the blanket out of my hands and tosses it over me. "You have to wear it if you wanna fight the cold." Snort.

I say nothing. My face must be expressive enough for how I feel. Confused, flustered, mildly annoyed. Embarrassed. I do not thank him a second time, thinking the first well enough, but as the silence chills on I whisper, "Luk and Todd are asleep."

"Yes." A fast and just as quiet return. "They were exhausted... and, well, loud... so I didn't feel like waking them." He does not ask if I minded that Sivan came to wake me in their stead. "I'm assuming your friend knows you too."

"She does," I murmur. And then it is quiet again.

Our footprints follow behind us, feet loud in the otherwise silent snow. Small snippets of conversation, awkward and jagged, interrupt between the pachy and the e-raptor, but only briefly and for as short of a time as possible. At some point Tessa asks what exactly what we are doing and I remind her of Pauleen and Sivan and she is quiet again. What a... sad group. The silent lead, all else of frosty terms... the chill of the snow in flurries about us.

Finally, his voice a crack in the icy barriers: "Rupert... you're so quiet. And cold. And kind of... moody. Like, you can be cold and all... but at the same time you're moody. Does that make sense? Gah. Maybe not." Pause. The golden eyes cannot sit still upon me; I feel them nosing about me but I do not reflect his curiosity. "Like... you show emotions so easily. That's... nobody does that. Not really."

I drop my voice. "There are people." He hears me anyways.

"Oh, I'm sure. You just didn't seem like one of them. Not at all."

My eyes narrow.

I take in a breath, and I tell him, "This is... different for me, yes. But I fear if I pick up old walls and hide behind them yet again... for all I know those walls would not come down again." Because it... hurt enough... when I took them down the first time. To reveal myself, to deliberately take myself apart, piece by piece, to let this world see me as I am. Me... And still I struggle with this decision. But to change it would change me—again—and why bother changing when I still have my hope?

So there I raise my eyes and I look to Mier. Carefully, only upon his edges—not as rough as his eyes. "Why are you quieter? You do not... not..." How is it... "Search—You do not search so relentlessly... for an answer. You accept." I blink. Quickly thrust my gaze into his—lose my breath—you can do this—just for a moment. "Why is this?"

I watch the smirk trace his lip but lose my nerve to continue staring soon after.

"Hmmph." Is that a pout in his voice? "I wasn't that loud. I'm not... those friends of yours. They are loud." Distaste. O-Oh. How... strange. "No, not them. I'm curious... that's all. Hah—Who else leaves their big, warm cabin with all that snow outside to go pester some strangers? Sure, they were weird strangers—that guy with the ugly goggles, the one in the dress, the fancy-clothes boy—but even so. It was pretty cold outside." Shrug. "And I let y'all wreck the food stores while I was at it. I think some credit's a little overdue."

I shake my head. "Al...right." He hangs onto my words. "Curious." Snorts.

"You could say that." I feel his eyes piercing me again, their original wonder blasted into me. How curious, I wonder, just is he?

When I remember. "Did you know who I was prior to our meeting?" His head turns. I look back again. "My... status is not... exactly unknown... in this world." I have only met one person who did not—and—well—she was... sheltered being a suitable euphemism—for—ah—tortured—so I wonder. He is... sheltered, as well, no?

"Hmm." Watching me carefully. "I feel like... some part of me knew, I guess? You dress pretty high-class enough. Rupert." He laughs when I flush again. "No... I didn't really know you. I guess that's weird, uh?" He smiles at my faint surprise. I feel that as well, and glance carefully toward him. "You seem used to people recognizing you. Hoo... that sounds real tiring. No wonder you hid everything. But now it's all out and... it's pretty funny."

I nod... slowly. "Yes. Perhaps so..."

"Psh. You even say that funny."

"I—It is how I speak. Is there something so wrong with it?"

"It like... I don't know." Probing me again. "It's like... Did you always talk so... not even formally, just the way you say it. 'It is how I speak' and 'It is like' and 'My status is not' whatever, whatever."

It... came from Dina. But I will not say that aloud, because... I do not want to. Let me keep her to myself, would you? Let I hold onto her memories. To her. Mier is... a strange one. Different, yes, and I am still not quite sure what kind of a different it is... if he will prove himself benign for us... or malignant. I would of course prefer the first, but even so...

When I glance again, Mier is smiling, if but slightly.

I think he enjoys... teasing me. Though it is... mildly insulting... it is not enough to rile me and not enough to yell slander in my face as certain others I know might, certain others currently sleeping back in the cabin.

So it is alright too.

A small forested area opens up to us just in front. Sivan dissolves into the shadowy white, the ice-capped trees, and my vivosaurs soon follow, and after it is Mier and myself to come. Great thick coats of bark reign from above and around like icicles, some frozen entire inches through by the weather... some reveal as a sickly gray on the inside, although most make themselves comfortable in their home. It is a wonder how such treacherous times allow for such large trees to take form, towering easy stories above.

Sometimes Tessa steps on a branch. Usually Tessa, hardly Gyntis—she takes insult to this and calls the e-raptor out; he reminds her that his feet are narrower and she goes off in a huff about it.

Then the hill takes form in front of us. A hillock in the distance—brilliantly white—slowly swooning, closer, closer, until it lies the sheer mass of a colossal vivosaur egg in front of us. Atop the hill, face heated, lips chilled, lies... a girl. Dark skin that clashes with the cold, pink hair down in choppy, thick waves about her. Form enclosed upon itself...

Why is she sleeping? Why sleeping in the snow? I step forward and reach out my hand but Sivan grunts loudly. He tilts his head in her direction and shakes his head rapidly, then mutters, Dangerous woods.

Yes, well, I respond, agitated, if she stays up there much longer she will die. It brings memories back for when a certain girl nearly died of a similar fate. I care not for the danger; it would be... rather troublesome for her to die, do you not think!

And Sivan has naught else to say but dangerous woods a second time. Tessa makes a little annoyed noise in her throat. I gesture her closer and she comes slowly, letting me climb up her back and reach out to the sleeping Pauleen, her face hardening as I think, and I—thoughtlessly—put my hand upon her face and somehow her emerald eyes snap open.

"Gahhh! Di-Digadig! What the hell is going on!"

A tension in my chest I did not notice prior has released. I quickly whisper, "Pauleen... Pauleen—it is me, Rupert... What are you doing here?" I pause, taking urgency instead of curious instinct. "We need to get you out of here... now."

She struggles to lift her head and once she does, shoveling out of her little snow imprint—grabbing my hand—the ball beneath her explodes. Snow hits my face, hits Tessa's face, the entirety of Pauleen's back, Mier, Gyntis; Sivan is drenched in steamy piles. Everyone. I shove Pauleen down beside me and frantically wipe at the chill.

When a voice erupts from the mass.

Who is this? Whooooo... may this be? Hmmmnnnnnnn?

We all pause. Pauleen hiccups. She slaps a hand over her face. I toss her a look of confusion and she whispers "Bad guy" and I close my eyes smiling weakly and she mutters "Yeah, yeah, we're friggin screwed."

A blast of a yell from another dimension rocks us on top of Tessa; I hold her tightly and Pauleen does her best but without internal support she eventually slides off from the pachy, slamming into the earth sideways. She gets up rather quickly, shaking her head, hair in tizzies, and Mier stops by her and offers quick greetings and she does the same.

Their eyes meet for longer than necessary. Even as she steps back those blaring orbs follow on both sides. Something about the chill in her face, yet she suffers hardly scratches... and the hunger of knowledge in his texture...

But I miss whatever it is because the voice returns with the overpowering sense of ancient streaming. I instruct Tessa and she immediately sidesteps as a second blare of wind erupts from her side, little snow flurries merely catching open space. Gaahhhhh, she mutters, what have we gotten into...

Gyntis rallies beside me. I ask him to search out the voice and, poised, he carefully turns left, then left and right again and slams into the spot where Pauleen had slept for however long it was. Sivan follows quickly and both are tossed back like playthings as a surge of the earth below trembles and I realize it was never the skies where it carried but... down below. Where the cracks in the ground are.

I wince.

The voice bellows a second time. And then it finds words.

I... am... hungry.

We all stop a second time.

Hungry... hungry... hunnnnNNNGGRRYYYYYHHHHHHHHHHH!

Then his arm bursts through the soil and in a spew of fear or dirt of something I turn and catch a burning onyx eye.

COME, CHILDREN: FEED ME WITH YOUR MORTAL SOULS, WOULD YOU?

And by here it is obvious what is about to happen. The tumult of the earth shakes beneath Tessa's feet and inevitably rattles me, so I pull myself closer to her and watch as the paths between trees knock down with the leaves, the branches, and then the actual trees themselves, and the monster's hand lashes out to our side and I cry for her to go and oh, oh she goes, and his thumb catches her side but she kicks powerfully and it is only a matter of time before the earth collapses below us.

I share a long, slow look with Mier. He is smiling... but there is a wariness behind it that I recognize as my own.

Pauleen scoots closer to him, weakly calling for Sivan, who thankfully came out unscathed. Gyntis lifts himself—his flank bleeds but it is not a large wound.

So that was our warning.

Then I face the crumbling volcano of earthen acid ahead and accept my face... as here it comes.

Ancient battle! Buh buh! Will it go better or worse than the rupy dad battle?

Also we get more Mier characterization! Mier's a funny one, huh?

Oh and Pauleen, she's here too! Yay! Or... not-yay, since she's acting strannnge?