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.

25. Da: I Think

Alright, back to adventure, can't leave Dina hanging forever

Dina: It... It is lonely, being alone now...

Trikko: kind of looks at her -Really, now.-

Dina: o-oh, um- -face implodes with blush-

Trikko: -Sorry, Dina. You said it in such a way that I couldn't seem to help myself.-

Torn: -WELL FUCK YOU, YOU SHOULD'VE HELPED YOURSELF ANYWAYS-

Trikko: winces -Stop yelling, would you? If anything we hear you less when you—

Torn: -WHAT WAS THAT? I'M TOO BUSY TALKING ABOUT ALL OF THE AWFUL TRAITS YOU HAVE TO HEAR YOU.-

Trikko: -...and I think I'll take my leave—

Torn: -BUT WE CAN'T LEAVE DINA ALONE-

Trikko: coughs -Torn, a little late for that.-

Torn: -...fuck you.-

I know that Torn and Trikko aren't even in this POV of the story anymore but I don't really care xD This is just the area I have fun around with for no reason on anyways so who said it had to be taken seriously to the plot

The Aloft Champion

Chapter 25: I Think

Dina

When I reawaken, I find my palm mashed against my forehead and the nail of my thumb in particular cutting a thin, even line through one splash of scales. "N-Nnnf..." Slowly I blink and waver with my eyes, thinning and closed to thoroughly opened, in repetition until my head finally ebbs and I feel sure enough to push my fingers into the ashen earth and pull to my feet once more. My hair I find stuck to my head in places and I gently push it back, though there is not any light once more so I cannot even see any of it... and if there is no light, then no one else can see it either...

Suddenly nervous, I rub at my cheeks. The remaining particles are of the obstinate sort. Pouting, puffing my cheeks, I try again only to be met with unwavering resistance. Then I let my hands fall to my sides. A soft sigh releases what breath I held.

It feels... almost sticky. Itchy, noticeable, certainly, but somehow a part of the pieces reminds me of another sensation entirely and all across my lackluster body my scales crawl from the thought of it.

When I rest a thumb on my tongue and remove it to rub upon the opposite arm, I think I feel slight release, though really the ash is so small and I cannot even see it anyways so it is a little difficult to tell, but maybe, maybe some of it is—

Then the light returns. I jump in place. "U-Um!" Blushing, I squeak, "Wh-Who is there!" without moving. My body has frozen on me. Oh...

"Dina?" Slowly I begin to relax as I recognize the soft, lilting tone. With my weakening, and with the golden, glittering light collecting upon ashy scales, I sense the presence grow closer, as does the voice, vibrating warmly in my being. "What is wrong, Dina?"

My eyes draw to the ground. "It is... it is... um..." I shift, pulling closer to myself. The dust at my feet kicks up and spirals outward through lukewarm rays of golden light. I swallow, try again. "That—That is, I... Um, why was I on the ground?"

It sounds childish, the blocky phrasing, the weak tone, the stutter that follows my every last word like a reminder. "Why, because you were unconscious." Briefly. Quietly. A warm regard touches him and I nearly turn around.

"O-Oh... O-Of course. I... remember now." What little stressed parts of me that remain begin to release too. I release a short breath. "I remember. Y-Yes. And I... it was..." Why did I...

"You were tired." My gentle response is given to me. "Too much energy expunged all at once, and you had already drained so much of yourself earlier. With myself, with the cliff, with the creation of Todd and a scene that did not previously exist within your reserve of memory."

I nod again, slowly. "Oh. Um." My face flushes. "It feels a little weird, be-being told this in such a... f-factual manner. By someone with a—with a voice I... think I knew well once." So with that I turn, and I face the swatch of memory and being that I transformed into an almost-whole person again. But not completely... not really. His face only shifts so much in countenance—I only remember so much of his movements. And there is no clear memory of his eyes when... displeased. It is a strange emotion to be missing but the way the golden irises clear whenever I reference such an idea is unsettling, and it causes me to be forced back into a world where I am the only one truly present.

"Yes, it must be." And there is a hint of a smile upon soft, pink lips. "My apologies, Dina. I am only as whole as you made me to be... and with so many pieces missing it is to be understood that this is... unreal."

A sudden laugh seizes me. "Ye-Yes, exactly! He-Heh... yes..." Eyes tilting toward the dark lumps of soil, I try at a tiny nod. "Unreal makes me feel sad."

"Me too," he chimes, gently, but it hurts to wonder whether or not that is because unreal also makes my beloved sad or perhaps he merely echoes some of me. Unreal. I swallow, stiffening: when I look up the eyes are hollow again, because he cannot be displeased if he is missing the emotion. I shiver, blinking rapidly, and his expression fades back into a comfortable neutrality. There is a warmth, though, that remains when he gazes upon me.

I think that is real. I think... my beloved felt that way, when I saw him last. Yes?

Then I think him unreal too. And when his head tilts toward a wayward glance I try to pretend I was not considering him an ethereal angel again because that is... that is embarrassing and... w-weird and... and unreal, very unreal, but it is all I have left sometimes and it is better to grasp than nothing.

There is another emotion I remember well, outside of the warmth he perceives. But that emotion makes me sad, and seeing it makes me scared for wherever my beloved is now, so I try my best not to disturb him enough to reawaken it. He must be... a soft person. Whenever he reaches out to me his hold is gentle, and so is his face, and his eyes, and his... lips, t-too. Oh, Dina...

His lips upturn and the eyes narrow, turning coy, when my thoughts begin to wander. I try to ignore that before my insides grow hot and it becomes impossible to glimpse his way without a heat buffeting me s-so I think I will glance back now, j-just for a moment, just so I calm down before he—before he—

The hand at my side is folded into his and with an abrupt jolt of a moment I forget what I was so worried about and my mind goes intensely blank.

"Dina... you are in pain."

O-Oh. "Yes... sometimes." I gently turn to him, and I smile somewhat, and I never learn if he believes me or not since he is not even real, not really. "Um... My family. I was... that was my last memory. Before I l-lost consciousness. Y-Yes?"

A softness overcomes his features. He rests his head against mine. "Yes." Gentle, he murmurs by my ear, "Do you remember them now?"

"U-Um, a little bit..." I swallow, and I start to lean into him, and with my free hand I wrap my arm around him. He is... warm. My... beloved. "My... brother. I saw him when he was very young." A pause. Something begins to dawn on—"Y-You are not my brother! Y-Yes?! I-I know people change wh-when they grow older and your are—you are not—"

A glance of both mild disturbance and humor traces soft, golden eyes. His lips part in thought. "Please... do not say that again. No. No, I would rather not be the infamous brother who lost himself on his way of looking out for you. If... I lost my sister, had I a sister, I-I do not know what I would do with myself. That would be..." He draws off, gaze weak.

"That would be hard," I mumble, a little more into his skin than the air in front of it. "That would be... very hard." And his grip, if but slightly, tightens around me.

"Yes. It would be."

And he leaves it at that. The utter tenderness torments my heart and I tighten my hand too, releasing his to hug him with full force and we are quiet, then, for a little while. Resting my head up by his neck, his skin soft, his hair soft, I think about him, the boy I call my beloved, and I think about what kind of a world we lived in together... and I wonder what it was like, the together. A kindness touches him, and... he—he is very clingy... but it is sweet, I think, he is very sweet...

Although I suppose if he was not then why would he be my beloved?

My stomach pinches.

I force my mind off of Torn and loud words and pushover repeated unending. B-Because at the very least, I... remember him fondly. B-But I guess I remembered a lot of things fondly so I... so maybe it does not matter what I remember how, j-just that most of it is probably inside of me somewhere, or inside of here, o-or something...

My beloved feels the quaking that creeps up my body. He senses my unease and he gently removes his hold upon me and replaces his arms to my shoulders and he looks into me, and then my tongue tastes bitter and there it is, the weak, soft, pained, powerless pressure that fills him, the anxiety, the weakness... the inability to do anything as I stay in this fuzzy, unreal state and I—

And I squeak and with my squeak I bite on my tongue and then I cry softly, covering my face, curling into myself. "S-S-Sorry..."

"Di-Dina..."

He is gentle again after that.

It makes me sad when I remember how powerless he must have felt in those last moments. I... I remember those, because that is how I came to be here, I remember those so... well. I think... I think we were both in pain, and the emotions tearing through my beloved were so livid they tore past any barriers and I can feel it sometimes, little pains in my chest, even now, especially now, when my mind begins to wander.

And sometimes I think there are pieces of him, of the real him, when I weaken like so.
Almost like... he is there. Like he sees me. Like he sees the fear and the hurt I feel as I strive to... to something in this blackened nexus. The violent thoughts in my head wander.

"Um... b-beloved..." Quiet, he turns back toward me. The warmth has returned to his soft, pale skin. The thudding in my heart lessens. "I was... I was thinking I would like to t-try and see him again. My brother." His—his name was—"D-Dino."

Oh. Of course he is not my beloved... that is not his name. My face curls into a weak smile as I note this.

"As you wish." And he smiles, if but slightly.

"Okay, um... ummmm..." My face flushes as I squat to the earth and pick up handfuls of ash and realize my tail started wagging at some point betwixt all of this. "U-Um! Ah..." He does not laugh at me—though I catch the coy smile—as I try to cease it, fitfully, swinging in lopsided circles to catch a glimpse of it and grab a fist of it and m-make it stop, but then I remember my hands are already full so in defeat I toss the ash. It trembles behind me in pained beats, like a second heart. Dissolving, dissolving, and I return to thinking of my brother, and again falls the child to the earth, the tiny child with the spiny dark hair and the scales like midnight.

And orange, too. I did not notice that earlier... j-just how orange his face is. Was. Um. Is? I-I do not know, that is right. He grins up at me giddily, a casual stream of drool cruising down his chin, and the big drizzly gray eyes so dazzle my heart it feels so... so real, to see him... when I remember that he must be as old as I am right now.

"A-Ah." And that is why I questioned the state of my beloved. I simply do not know. "Wh-What do you think he looks like now?" My stomach pinches again, an angry cramp of hands upon hands inside of it. I try not to think of it but that does not stay true for long.

My beloved stirs. "What is wrong with his current age? It is possible you last saw him recently."

"Oh, um..." My face pinches. I try I try to ignore this pain... "I... I think he is my twin brother, my beloved. Which...Which means one of us is... lying." And then I give myself a swift look and I glance back at my beloved and he smiles gently. Nervously, my fingers knead at the monster in my stomach. I try not to look toward him.

"Dina... Heh, it is not your fault. Then... ah, that must be over a decade ago, the last you saw of him. You were a child when you last remember him, do you think?"

"Y-Yes..." That was a long time ago...

In a moment, the pain eases. A great panicked breath sucks out of me. My beloved casts a worried glance; I wipe at my cheeks and shake my head, no, it is okay, it is okay, I-I am fine. Now.

I point out at the blob of an entity who is I think my brother as some features begin to solidify but that is all, and I feel my tail sag along with the rest of my body... with such a small shift. "We were but... toddlers... when we were separated?" Oh... that is so very long ago...

Wordlessly, the boy beside me nods. His fingers tighten around mine. I lean toward him, breathing deeply, and he graciously allows me to, taking in my form with an ease suggesting he has done this many times before in a past I hardly have left. We are silent for some time when he suggests mildly, "It is possible Dino never grew taller than... ah... Todd?"

"Pff..." I giggle. "Why do you ask that?"

I feel his grip jolt upon mine. "That is... That is..." He winces. "Todd is... just somewhat shorter than me."

Oh—Oh. I burst into another little giggle. "M-Maybe!" I point a finger on my free hand forward and awkwardly conduct, kicking at the ashes, as my brother transforms into a floppy-haired creature of hair uncannily similar to mine and features that very well match my own.

A soft near-laugh escapes my beloved. "Dina, his chest is purple... and I believe he is a male. And his hair... when did it go to be autumn? That is your hair color, not his." He is soft as he points these out, and I feel myself drooping further into his side and I can hear my ragged breaths as I try to shift my warped ideas and transform Dino into an actual boy—and with scales, which I realize I had forgotten some of. How... funny. The spiny hair is returned, as well as the midnight scales, the gray chest, the cheeky orange face and accents... though his features continue to take after mine.

Just beneath the height of my beloved he strays to.

"Ah." A soft exhale. "Please let him stay there.

Another giggle echoes his words; my beloved glances back toward me and teasingly pokes my cheek. "I would feel... safer, if he did not excel any past me."

"Eheheh... silly..."

Nuzzling against him, I try to mumble something accountable only for my speech to slur. One glance toward my composure and my beloved pulls me into a hug, gently lifting me. When I try to voice something against this he softly presses his lips to my forehead and murmurs, "I hardly understand what you say, Dina. Do let me enact this."

He takes my pout in stride, and not long after it melts into little bursts of giggles again. As I grow softer, I watch as his expression mirrors this, as silently as it does, and I grow distracted in the heat in his cheeks and the slight touch of a smile upon his lip as he gazes upon me and I gaze back upon him... and it feels so warm in my heart, being around him.

I-If this is not real then I am afraid I must refuse to live in reality any longer... What a... wastrel reality that would be... In some angry mark, my stomach pinches again... but it eases before I can think much of it.

It is here that I feel a second presence stride to our side, and here that my head is cupped by a hand larger and—and different than that of the one who holds me already. A slow shade of disgruntle droops down the face of my beloved and his grip tightens about me, but that does not stop the perpetrator. Moments of a nervous silence pass and I manage to detect the strange, rough substance: scales.

"Yeah, so." I wince at his voice and it lowers quickly. "So... so, uh." I come to a blank... because what happens next? I only have in recollection—and but faintly at that—the voice of a young child who played the role of my brother. So finely as I sculpt him or carefully I craft him, he will of course still be off: it has been years.

And while this pieces fill some cracks it only reveals the gaping holes that remain ever further.

The hand flickers in and out of being, as does the body it is attached to. My head... aches, thinking of it.

I know I want to see him... but... but that is... and what if he is dead anyways? What if Dino is... unreal too? I may have created him wrong and therefore he is... not real and I... and I... and I...

Softly I sigh, and I shift so that I may wrap my arms around my beloved and look into him closely. "Do... Do you think, um, if you met my brother... that you would like him?"

Because I want to think they are both real. I... want to think they are both real. R-Right?

"Dina..." A little smile tugs at his lips. "I want to think so, though I am entirely unsure unless I met him how such a fateful meeting would go. It... worries me, slightly. Heh..." And there is a bashfulness about him, a softness that melts me with his bright, golden eyes. "I want to... be there for you. And... having a brother... then you... then I..."

I cannot help it—"Heehee! Why would I... oh, beloved..." The lost, forlorn stare in his features only causes me to laugh harder. "You are so... you are—Eheheheh..." which only, in turn, causes the forlorn stare to worsen. "No—no, no... d-do not feel baaad, my beloved... please...

Those soft, gentle eyes do not reach mine until he finds the courage to lift them again toward me. "I..." My throat grows thick. I lose my breath for a moment. "I—I miss you... my beloved."

There, wonder sparks, in tiny warm fragments. Used, and worn, and precious. The touches of his feelings, sacred little things, envelop me. "Dina..." But he loses his nerve again. Oh... somehow that is even more precious, the little fight in his eyes... "Dina... please, may I..." He presses his lips together; a curious discoloration of confusion drains him. I smile and I nod, and I let him go on and his face softens again. "Dina... I must ask... um, please, why do you miss me..? I..." Blush then overpowers his cheeks. "I just... need to hear it again. M-My apologies."

I want to see him... I really do...

"Hee..." Oh, you are so... cute. "D-Do not apologize! I like telling you..." And I think that makes him happy too. And that... makes my heart warm. I-I cannot help it. "Because... Because you listened to me. A-And... you are here now. I think. Maybe. Heh... And, um..." As my gaze flutters sidelong, his head tilts with mine, and my voice grows softer. "And you... you were not m-mad... when I forgot about you. Or... mad when I made mistakes and—and I am not...

I recall what Torn told me. "I am not... motivated... on my own. But you like... m-my presence. A-And I really... like yours." H-How could I not... "You are a very sweet person, my beloved..."

There he is soft, and I feel that maybe he is teasing me now. "Oh, Dina, you know I am not like that with most people. I... close myself off, almost completely."

"A-And I am an exception!"

He smiles gently. "Yes."

"And I like being an exception! It... makes me happy!

And there he has to look away, with the blush stinging his cheeks so strongly and his hands so tight and his gaze almost nervous, like I have said too much, or I have not said enough, or maybe it is not that at all but he thinks he is lacking... and he needs approval. Pouting, I curve my fingers beneath his chin and I pull toward him. "But it dooesssss... nnnnnn..."

Release slowly tucks the stress out of his mind, and he leans into my touch. "I know," just softly, and I tighten my other arm around him. He says no more, but he stays there, and I like that... and I love him. And I grow afraid, again, thinking about this place, about him, about seeing him, as I remember that he is not really here, and for all I know he never was... but to believe it otherwise as he stands here and as we run over little moments that I cannot believe were pulled out of nothing but my diluted mind in this sickening, black madness, to follow that possibility down a hole that only assures I have lost my mind...

As the worry sinks into my chest, as my head falls from his side and I curl into myself, I situate myself back on the ashen floor beneath me, and I stay like that for some time. There is no light, and there is no life other than my own, and that alone is in tandem constantly, and I feel it sometimes swaying with the pitch and fall of bleary motions... and I wonder what it is like out there. But Torn is right, and it is never enough for me to try again.

W-Well... not without help. Not without help when I remember that... that maybe there is someone like the boy I call my beloved waiting for me out there. And I wonder what he is like, he who speaks in such a soft whisper at times with words he had yet to share with anybody else before. And I think about him, and I think of the distance he puts between himself and other people—and how lonely it must have been, his growing up—and how hard it must hurt him to be around others if at the same time all he wishes for is affection... and I feel sad. And I feel empty, and I want to hold him but then I remember he is not here.

And maybe that is a good thing. And maybe he is not real, either. And maybe that is a good thing and I... and I...

An inkling of a memory surfaces... because something happened after the starship and the stone people and my mother and her death, yes? There were other things. I only recovered but a trove of the memories left sealed deep down inside of this black pit. One would think... oh, I would think that it would be so exciting to pull away from the amnesiac that defined me for so long... to remember those I was with, to finally finish the puzzle that came from my very soul and find all of those missing pieces and put them back where they belong.

One would think. It seems all my mind has the patience for now is the boy I may have left behind, the possibility of a boy I may have left behind... and outside of him, the emptiness of this void that remains. If I say it aloud and try to think of it further I fear I will think myself stupid so I refrain, but I hold him in my heart. One day... I-I want to know your name. So I can say it... and feel it, and hear it in my voice, and my voice alone. U-Unless you do not like that...

Oh, I will get nowhere with these backward questions... I-I need to focus. I need to focus on what is ahead or I will never get to him again.

Or Torn. Or Trikko. Or any of the others. And I miss them too, the others.

And—And my brother. My heart pounds as I gasp with a trill: a brother. I never had a brother before... Oh, no, wait, that is not true; I did but I did not know I had one. I-I wonder what he is like? Is he... nice? Or... Or is he scary? Oh no, that would be disappointing to finally meet my brother only to learn that he never liked me back in the first place... But... But I have a dad too, a very real dad, who was alive... I think. B-But what if he does not like me?

If only my single notions of parenthood were not so soiled... Todd and his foster parents, and I believe my beloved—if I am correct—had a scary dad and a d-dead mom too... and—oh—in a flash there is Pauleen, neon pink hair, dark skin, big smile... and her parents are also dead.

I swallow at that.

Why are they all dead? O-Or scary? N-Not all parents are dead or scary... right?

I... miss Todd, too. And Pauleen. Oh...

A soft breath and I manage to coax myself to dig out small portions of ash. I stand and my tail quivers somewhere behind me... but I stand, and then I try to coax out of my mind the numb void inside of me, and with a breath I toss them... and oh, does my memory come.

Like a punch. It soars and it launches into me and I fall to the earth. Gently I raise my head and glimpse the fringe of light work upward and upward from the ground, roots of light sapping away at whatever power it is that lies in wait before them, and there the delicacies of human figure are formed. I stay on the earth, scrabbling at what little ground there is to support me; as if I am still but a child, the toddler-sized body of my brother squishes against me. A careful toddler hand takes mine and pulls me up by him, only when I look at my hand it is small and squishy like his.

My toddler hand. O-Oh. Yes, of... course. When I squeeze his he squeezes back.

The voice is soft, innocent, weak. "Yeah, so. So... ummmm... Now is the part where we—where we..." His wide eyes swivel to me, and in his great pools I see my own reflected. He twists the twine-like necklace of silver from the clasp about him and allows it to drop; watching me for a few seconds, waiting, and, disappointed, he gently unties the clasp around mine for me, and he places it on the tile ground by his. "Or else they will... know where we are."

My faint, small voice mimics his. It feels strange to speak without speaking. My throat... itches.

The eyes are sad. "So I hold your hand and none of us lets go. O-Okay? I press the teleport button and the camooflaige button and... and we go together. Okay?" For such a small child, his voice radiates a strength beneath the quivers and stutters and fears. "So then... then we find people who help you."

I think I ask him why I need help. He puffs his cheeks.

"R-Remember? Monster inside of you. Meanie monster." For such a squishy, volatile texture, his toddler face pinches into such a disgusted manner. My heart beats weakly. So... So then Zoazoa has been inside of me for much longer and I—and I recall the last bout of memories, and the stone bodies and the wisp of an ancient that passed into mine and stayed there... and stayed there... for thousands, maybe even millions of years.

Does Dino... know? D-Does that mean, then, a-all I have to do to find him is try to find someone who knows that tidbit about me without being told? Will that... Will that prove him to—

I suck in a breath and I wonder does that mean if... if he ever hears about me, will he think of this... and will he try to find me? Wh-What is he already has? What if... s-somewhere out there in the world that I want to imagine is real, he finds my beloved and they both... they both... oh, there is something important in that message but I am... afraid... afraid to think about it. For be it... unreal, and...

Before I can question the plotting of my brother, he squeezes my hand a final time and jabs a small array of buttons upon the metal necklaces lying in a heap below, his and then mine, and out of air a thick, glowing light spouts to envelop us... when I feel toddler fingers squeeze, release, slip, and disappear.

So that is... how it happened. I swallow, then, lying on my back, my eyes up in an endless black sky. He was worried about me. Because of Zoazoa. Because he... he knew there was something wrong after the millions of years of the stone—th-though I think that the stone part alone is s-sketchy... M-Maybe the scaled people, the ones like us, knew what they were doing. Maybe it was safe... for a reason. I-I do not know. But either way, afterward, Dino knew something was wrong... what did he call it... teleport... camouflage—oh, oh... the human... the human form? The human form... It did not retreat until Zongazonga.

Maybe because of Zoazoa. Maybe because of... me, and Dino, and that... species that we are. Maybe there is some relation. But where does that put the creature that is currently in control of my body? Where does that put... me? Oh... I do not know... th-that is the thing, I do not know...

But there is the purpose in being here, is there not? Finding it. Sifting through this broken, dislodged, estranged past of mine to find... something. I am unsure. Something. Anything.

I curl up as I moan into my hands.

This is... this is...

This... this feeling in my throat, the balled up tension that squeezes me like a toy between fickle fingers... Oh... Something about my past is so... pitiful, so painful to glimpse through, so pressuring to glean from and... and it... and I... I cannot... oh, I cannot, for... for so much longer, I... I... do not want to do this. I... do not want to... to...

Cruel words... pass me by.

"Dina... why do you cry so? What is wrong?"

I start in place; my fingers snatch around my lips but so far as I try the soft cries stagger out anyways. So much as I struggle, I need moments of time before I can quiet myself enough to look the light-bearing form of the boy whose name has escaped from me in the eye so well as I can. "N-Nnnngh..." I swallow, wiping back slimy rows of tears. "Wh-Why are you back?" It comes out weak and broken. Gritting my teeth I try again; "Wh-Whhhhy are y—"

"You were lonely." Quietly. Softly. Spluttering, I turn away again, because I have nothing of any good to say in response to that. "And you were lonely... so you brought me back. Yes?"

"N-N-Nnn..." I untangle cold fingers. While he watches, I try to grow the task to as long as I can manage it until he sits in front of me and clasps them, and the chill melts off of me. I screw my lip aside and glance back again, a soft whine in my throat—and I try to stifle it but my throat aches too much to—and the eyes that behold me are gentle, too gentle to look into without a twinge of guilt.

"Dina... There is nothing wrong with feeling lonely."

"Nnn..." I pout, muttering, "I-I am not lonely!"

So he pauses, gently squeezing my hands. "Then please tell me what is the matter." A piece of sharp guilt stabs me when I hear the hurt in his tone.

I feel before I realize that I start to collapse upon myself again. I wipe at wet eyes, pulling my fingers from his grip—though not enough to loosen them entirely. And he stays, my beloved, he stays anyways. For some time my eyes toggle between the safety of the ground and the vulnerability of his eyes, his warm and gentle and soft yellow eyes, radiating a heat like the sun. He feels real, I decide, swallowing weakly, he feels so... real. So translucent as his body is, he feels so... so...

So I press my lips together. He must feel me shaking. "I am... scared." Heat courses through my cheeks. "I-I am... I am sorry... That sounds—"

"Oh... Dina, hush." And he is kind to me when I pull him closer and I hold him tight to me, and he returns my hug warmly. "Of course you are scared. It is only understandable. You are... in a scary situation."

Pausing, I need to find my courage before I can try to ask him. Swallow, breathe, breathe... I mumble, "You have been in scary situations too... m-my beloved..."

"Yes." He returns it warmly, if but quietly. "Yes... I have been. Dina, how... of all things, how do you remember that? It is... it is merely—"

"You m-mean very much to me!" My fingers twist around the soft fabric of his coat. I wince as a tear splatters at his shoulder and he shushes me for it. "Y-You do! And I..." I swallow. "And I miss you! I-I do miss you... my d-dear... my dear..! And I..." My voice lowers; I try to pretend it is not quaking so strongly. "And I am... s-scared... of s-so many things...

"I am scared that you are not real and... and that none of this is real and... and I am scared of what comes next in a past I have not even remembered for over a centur—ah... no, that is... that is not..." My voice goes weak and quiet as I swallow again.

"A decade." His breath in my ear. "You mean a decade."

"Y-Yes... I mean a dec-decade..." And I nod clumsily at that. His fingers cup around the back of my head and gently stroke there, and I feel the stress wither again. "My beloved... please... you are not f-fake... are you?"

But should you be? Because if you are then I—then I—

One thing... at a time. I try to breathe deeply and powerfully, without so many raspy, wet gasps in between. My eyes I squint shut and I tighten my hold around him again, pulling him close to me, and he gently cups my cheek and tries at a little smile.

"Do you think I am?"

My cheeks flush. "I-I... I..." He falters as he witnesses the collapse of my voice and I pull back a hand from behind him, softly coughing into it. "I want to... th-think so... I..." I am scared to believe... I am scared to be wrong, to be... to be... hurt. And I know... you do not want that either, but... then you are hurt in turn by the fight inside of me... as real or unreal as you are. As good or bad that... that is. Because if you are unreal...

"If... If you are not real..." I shake my head slowly; things blur when I try any harder. "I... If you are not real, then I am... I do not think that world should... should be real." Nervous, I glance back up at him through pinched eyes. He has... relaxed, some. "I... I think you are. I really... think you are."

I wish... oh...

Gently his hands recover mine—even the one I coughed into. While I flinch at that, he is of no response. "Then... um... I am sorry, there is no solid evidence inside of here, but... please hold onto that belief. I... I am here, yes? I am here."

He sounds desperate too; there is weakness in his otherwise soft, soothing, low voice, and the tenderness that envelops me. I wish... I wish I did not have to be so afraid, and I wish I did not have to break so easily but... but he is here now... he is here now...

I squeeze his hands and I mumble, "I am... I am here too... I am here with you..." and when I look up there is but a sad whisper of a smile in his eyes and on his lips. But he is gentle, then. He is gentle to me.

"Dina... You must remember, then, that my memories are not kind either." As he whispers, I tug against him again, and he rests his head by mine... and he is so soft. "You must remember that my mother was killed in cold blood by my... father... and I was there and—and I was never very skilled at reaching out toward others, so much as I needed them, so much as I... needed you, once I found you." And it sounds real, and it feels real. "So I... I want you to know that I understand whatever comes next. I understand."

Sucking in a small breath, I nod. And he nods too.

"I-I love you," I mumble.

"Dina..." And he squeezes my hands again. "I love you."

And it is with him and a haggard breath that I lift up off the ground again. "P-Please stay by me when I... when I try this again..." Because I... I need to... need to...

Because... I...

He offers me a little grin. "I will." As I begin to turn back toward the blackened horizon he gently tightens his grip on me, and I turn back. "Dina... if I may ask... Why are you so afraid of my not being real? Have... you even seen anything to prove that I would not be? That... That anything or anyone you have learned of may not be? Why are you so afraid?"

Ah.

"I-I am... because..." Because... Because... um... "Oh! Be-Because earlier I saw a false memory of Todd and... i-it so easily came to play in my head, and... and..." And I cannot come up with much else in this area... oh, what is wrong with me...

Rupert is quiet when he asks me, "But did you not realize this memory was false?" My cheeks pink. "Dina—please, I am not trying to ruffle you." Breathing weakly, I try at a nod. "My apologies if I have, but... if this is your only reason, then..." And he pauses. Soft, golden eyes trace over me, and he is quiet as he does this. "Then there is no reason for you to be so afraid of an unreality you seem perfectly capable of distinguishing on your own." He gently tilts his head to one side. "Like... Trikko, yes?"

And I blush again. "I—that... that is... I..." But I soon find I have no words of use.

Why am I afraid? It... m-makes sense I would be afraid of unreality... had I more a reason to, but... but to latch onto this theory of all things and have hardly a reason for it... H-Heh, Trikko would be ashamed... a real Trikko, a Trikko that I already know is real and was real when I remember his being here. Oh... he would be so, so ashamed of me... He is the one who always told me unless there is a reason, then do not... be so... nnnnnf...

"Dina..." His voice directs my gaze back up to his. "Perhaps there is something else you are afraid of? Something you... hid from yourself. That would explain why, yes?" And I nod again, slowly, and I try to remind myself that he has been nothing but kind to me since he reappeared and I... and I...

"N-Nnnnn... I raised my voice against you again... I-I am sorry, my beloved..." I wince. "A-And I am sorry I do not know your name still... out of everything that I do know..."

Gentle again. "Do not worry, Dina." I bite at my lip. "But... if you do have an idea at what else lies in your heart that you are so afraid of... please let me know. I want to be here for—"

"O-Oh! Like... Like..." I blush. "S-Sorry!" But he merely nods me on. I blush again. "I... keep avoiding my memories. Maybe I am... scared of..." what I do know. What I might know. What is real. But... Wh-Why would I be scared of that... That is weird...

Nervous again, I glance back at the ground and kick at it slightly. When my toe casually passes through his boot, I-I try to pretend it did not and continue drawing little malformed squiggles into ashes I can hardly see, what with this lackluster light... though a lackluster light is preferred to no light at all. Pouting, I bend down and release one of his hands to scoop up some of the ashes, and somewhere inside of me my heart trembles at the sudden sense of vertigo that I know will pitch me over when I throw it.

And I remember not throwing it. Not wanting to throw it. Avoiding possibilities, feeling... miserable... and I remember again what Torn told me not so long ago, that I am never motivated to do anything and I... and I let the ashes harmlessly fall to their place on the earth again, my head woozy.

"It is your fault," I mumble, pressing against him, slowly balancing myself in the strength of someone else because I know, oh I know if I let go I will tumble all over again. And he waits as I find the words to elaborate, as I puff my cheeks and I go on to say, "I-If you were not here, I would have no problem with waiting for my d-death here. I would have no problem with sitting here and waiting here for Zoazoa to finally kill me, I would have absolutely no problem with—"

In a heartbeat his fingers snatch over my lips. "Dina. Please. Stop." His fingers shifts to his palm, and it stays there against my moist, parted lips as he shakes his head from the desperate powerlessness left inside of there. "Do not say that. I do not want you to say it. I... do not want to hear it."

Slowly he moves his pale hand from my face and I duck my head again. "I... s-sorry." But is it the truth, is it not? "I... had no qualms when the Huricans... owned me. I-I did not... care what they did to me and I did not care if I stayed there all my... all my life." Motivation. "And Torn knows and Trikko knows and Nyra knows and so do Reyna and Aladee, they all knew I would not fight this, but they also knew that if I did not, then no one could help me fight it... and that was it.

I glance away. "Um... but you..." My fingers I places on his chest. I cannot look at him directly. "You... make me want to live, but... but I never wanted that before... I-I never... I never..." And it is there I have to stop talking, for the weak, rasping breaths that spill out of me do not come back with enough air to supply me. My stained cheeks, still slightly crusted over in dried tears, my frantic heart, beating without much a care how rapidly it goes.

For if you are unreal... then I have no motivation, no reason to try.

Pff... how p-pathetic of me.

Oh, my aching spirit. "I miss you. I... am lonely without you." My foggy thoughts. "I am... lonely... a-and I do not want to be lonely... that is the thing, I... I want to be around you..." Oh, loneliness...

And he knew the entire time, whether he knew it or not, huh...

Quiet, I mumble, "You make me... actually care about... wh-what happens to me. F-For once. Because you... care what I think... you care how I feel—you are not like Todd or Torn, who tell me to turn around and... fight it. You do not tell me to feel h-how I feel. You let me do that. Because... nobody ever d-did that for you either..."

"Dina..." Something about his tenderness is... deeper, warmer, somehow stronger than it was before. He holds me close to him and there is a... there is this glowing, ethereal warmth in his gaze that I cannot quite describe... "Yes, that... would be part of it, I presume, but... Heh. Is there anyone else in this world who finds such joy in little things like you do? Is there anyone else who so... shamelessly lets the world know how she feels at all times? I... admire that. People like you because you are so... honest, and you put them before you—which—which I am not saying is a good thing but it is an honest trait of yours.

There his smile grows teasing. "Though maybe you should do it less."

"Heheh..." I smile, pressing my head against him. "Maybe a little less..."

"You will not, though, will you? For you are Dina."

A hot blush burns through my body. "M-Maybe I will!" Then I pause. "No... probably not. You are always right."

"Heh... No, not always. I used to be so stubborn and... I always distanced myself—I mean... I still do, mostly. I never would have... been able to finally... say something like that were it not for you."

"Nnn! You are making me blush very much over here!"

Not that he stops. Not that I want him to. At some point his hand wound about my chin, and he pulls me close to him then, and tilting his head ever so slightly, his white hair stroking the edges of his face, his other hand pressed about my back, eyes beginning to narrow shut, he takes me into him and kisses me... and we stay that way for I am not even sure how long... my fingers clasped about him and his body against mine, so... soft, and warm and... and... safe. Safe... with him.

When he pulls back, his breaths are raspy and rather audible, like his beating heart by my head. "Alright... Dina, I think you need to see your memories."

"See," I mumble, "you always are right..."

Raising a hand, he gently pats my head. "I am not, Dina, and we both know this, but it flatters me that you think so despite it."

"Nnnnng! Nooooo... that was when you... when you were distant and... and stuff... And you are not distant anymooore!"

He smiles and presses his lips to my forehead. "Silly Dina..." but he does not refute it this time. Good. And with that, his fingers curl around one of my hands, and I go to the ground to unearth another handful of ashes. And I pause there. Blushing, I turn back to him.

"I am sorry I took so long to—"

"Dina." I splutter. "No apologies." And he smiles so sweetly I nearly push him or... or something, it is too much for me... So I look away and I think about... and I think about... and I...

And I lose focus again. "My beloved? D-Do you think Dino ever did that too?"

"Did what, my dear? Heh. You must elaborate."

"O-Oh, yeah! Um... Do you think Dino ever convinced himself about a truth that was not real? L-Like I did?" I pause, and then I gasp softly. "D-Do you think he forgot about me? I-Is that why we never heard of him before? Did he... forget me?"

And he is quiet there, my beloved. And he is gentle when he murmurs, "It is likely... Dina." But he is soft when he says it and I am soft when I hear it and it is okay, it is okay. So then I clump my fist of ash and I think about what happens next, after I lost my brother and the glowy light took me, and I finally hurtle it through the air.

Clumps of forestry and little worn dirt paths crawl about the ground below us. Trees sail high in the sky, taller than Nyra, most of them. A moist, sticky air presses to my scales, and my hair is... matted, and tangled, and when I pull a scaly hand in front of me it is—oh, right—it is skin again, or at least it looks like skin again, and there are little scars ringing around most edges, like I have grabbed too many things that I should not have grabbed.

A voice peeks through the foliage; the sun, dipped in the blue sky above, shines brightly and beats down on my tiny body. "Hellooo? Someone there? Purdy sure I hear—Oh!" And there the male steps in, and the first thing I note is how much taller he is than a toddler. Orange curly hair, a hat stuffing most of the curls into it, a large black overcoat and these strange, brown boots taller than myself with layers of fringe upon them.

The accent hits me like a stone. "Hrrrm... Someone lost their kid? Oooi!" He turns back, yelling through the trees. "Ooiiiiii! Anyone out theeeeeeree? Left yer daughter, ya did! Hellooooooooooooooo!" And, of course, there is no response, because he does not know this, but I do, that my family is very, very far away from this remote location.

"Well. I guess... I could take care of ya? Though... man, who loses their kid on this sorta place? It's deserted." The man puffs out his pinkish tan cheeks and scowls. "Ahhh, whatever. I'm sure it ain't that hard, right? 'sides, I have better things t'do than tote y'all the way back to the orphanage." Oh. His reasoning is not very sound, but I think I like him. "Name's Joe. You, er... guess you might be too young to understand words. Uhhh... Name?" And he points at me, a great incredulous sense of uncomfortable awkwardness filling his face. "You? Er... name?"

And I guess my younger self understood the word "name", if nothing else. Or "you". I do not know. Because I hear the soft, raspy voice whisper, "Dina," and there it is, and here I am.

So that is how Joe Wildwest knew me. I remember meeting him—then Don Boneyard—er, as he called himself—and I remember him recognizing me, and hoping I could do something to help him out of his situation... and the fear he felt when he learned that I did not remember him.

I recall the penthouse he lived in, a large, spacious area with a tall floor on a small island in the middle of the Caliosteo three, that I learn he had built partially on his own. I recall the scattered children toys lying on the floorboards, on the shelves, as if a child was disrupted mid-play. And there are not many of them, but the little memories dot the man and me and... growing up in such a strange place. It was only for some few years.

At least for a little while. The little scene plays out and next comes Zongazonga, and I know next comes Zongazonga, and possession, and the possession of Joe, and maybe that is why Zoazoa took so long to overpower me, because of Zongazonga appearing into her life a second time.

But there is not some grand moment where lightning zaps and clouds part and the misty soul of a long-dead ancient king fills through all holes he can to enter the man who took care of me for the majority of my young childhood.

It does not happen so obviously.

Joe returns to his penthouse some day, and there I am with little vivosaur dolls—a tricera, I note stupidly, is among them—but not yet Trikko, not for another decade or so—and he takes my hand and he steps back as if pricked. And dark, dark eyes glimpse at me, and they must have seen her, and she must have seen him too, from wherever she was inside of me.

I was too young. I did not understand.

He rides a very unrelenting ptera, pulling me on with him, attempting to go back to Jungle Labyrinth maybe, where Zongazonga first came, I am unsure, but wherever he means to go the ptera that so loved Joe Wildwest does not love Zongazonga, and she crashes him into the ground at the first island that sails by. I want to say Mith liked me, the sweet banana-yellow ptera, but even if she does or does not at this time Zongazonga is a very powerful sorcerer and it is no big feat for him to bend her to his will afterward.

"Hmm." The dark, corded voice returns as he examines the cliff crashed upon. Cliff. All I have on me is the vivosaur Joe gave to me in his medal in my sweaty child palm and a jumpsuit he bought for me. Torn is apprehensive, but he does not know any bad words to scream at the top of his lungs. Not yet, anyways.

I think about the Huricans and I wince. Not yet. Oh, Torn...

"It appears empty enough here." Coughing, clearing his throat, Zongazonga levels his gaze with my tiny one. "I can kill you off in this area, I'm sure."

Whatever happens next I do not quite remember. Not... very well. A great throbbing, slamming pain ratchets into my skull and I think blood drips into my eyes and I feel pretty sure that it is here, right here, that I forget everything, and I think it is Zoazoa who has me flee or maybe a terrified Torn, but either way it happens and I do not die, not there, and Zongazonga does not see the daughter that he thought he saw in me. Because I forgot about her... so she was technically not there anymore. Not on the surface.

Oh.

Oh, so... that is how it happened. That is how it all happened.

That is how I lost the man who was happy to raise me. That is how I lost my family, and my brother, and that is how I came to the Huricans and how I lost all memory of any of this even occurring.

Slowly I sit down on the black ashes, and I decide that I am too speechless to think much of anything right now.

My beloved sits beside me.

It is the first thing I think of, and out of desperation I latch onto a small handful of ashes and I ask for his name and I throw it. And nothing happens.

All of this and nothing happens. Not even... a whisper.

He stays anyways. We say nothing, nothing at all, but he stays anyways right by me and I eventually lean over and press my head into his shoulder and his arm drapes around my back and I tighten my own arms around him and we stay like that.

Eventually I whisper, "Thank you," just softly, weakly, and I say nothing more.

Nor does he. That is fine.

We stay like that for some time.

Intense chapter! Haha, did anyone else notice that Dina pulled a Dino? xD I liked the thought behind that, that maybe it's something small she's lying to herself about but Dino did that about his entire family so long ago and only just realized it and... I dunno xD

Heheh, it's... something else. But there you have it, Dina's past fully remembered!