"Sasha, they should have been back by now."
Paul pulled his feet back from the Captain's desk, taking advantage of him not being there by resting his feet on the desk, without having someone there to tell him to take his feet off, but now he was getting worried. Nisroc should have been back yesterday, and he still wasn't, they were growing worried.
"He said he'd be back in a week, and that week ended yesterday," his younger brother rubs at his chin lightly. "I agree. They should have."
"Titus still isn't back either." Andre walked into their Captain's office worriedly, he missed his guardian, hence the reason they saw him wearing one of his tunics. He came to stand next to Sasha, crossing his arms lightly, he tapped his forearm with the fingers of his left hand nervously. "Do you think something happened to them?"
"Maybe," Sasha looks between them. "But it would have to be a powerful adversary to take them all on and succeed."
"True." Paul nods as he kicks his feet off his guardian's desk, stomping them down on the stone floor underneath them, reaching down to adjust the straps on his boots, tighten them before he tripped, so he didn't have to listen to that little voice in the back of his head that sounded like Nisroc telling him he 'should have tightened the straps on his boots'. He wasn't even there, and he was nagging him on taking care of himself. "Or, they were caught by surprise. Anyone's easily defeated if their caught by surprise."
"I hope they're okay." Paul snorted at Donavon's appearance, he was wearing one of Puriel's vests, it was much too big on him, and it amused him to no end. He balled up a piece of paper and threw it at the Captain's oldest charge, Paul caught it easily, tossing it back around at him. "I'm sure they are, I mean, they have Puri and the Virtues, they'd be able to patch up any wound."
"Sure," Donavon nodded, coming to stand next to Andre. "Unless they don't have the necessary supplies. And, Puriel didn't take his sword."
"He didn't take what?" Andre and Sasha turn to look at him, Paul staring at up at him, and he nodded. "It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, he wasn't even asked to go with them, he went of his own accord because he's a worry wart." He shrugs slightly. "So, he didn't think he'd need it."
"We should go get them!" Paul curled the fingers of his right hand into a tight fist, banging it down harshly against the wooden desk before him. "No one messes with them but us!"
"Not including your twisted logic, Paul," Sasha holds up a finger. "But are you crazy?" He holds his hand up, straightening his other fingers, palm face his brother. "Nis would skin us alive if he found out we put ourselves in unnecessary danger, and I for one don't want to feel his wrath, so I come back to my previous statement." He tilts his head and throws his hands up. "Are you crazy!"
Paul grimaced, he hadn't thought about that, Nisroc would not be thrilled with that small fact. Despite their good intentions.
Beside him, Andre grimaced too, Sasha turned to look at him as he reached back to rub at his bottom as if feeling the phantom sting. Titus was a calm, understanding Power, he wasn't easy to anger, he had the patience of a Saint. But he also had a set of rules he was strict about, rules that were met with firm consequence if they were broken, and the first rule on that list was not putting oneself in unnecessary danger. He didn't know about the other Powers, but like Nisroc, Titus was a very hand's on disciplinarian. He wasn't gentle either, it was a severe matter if one broke one of his rules, and he'd take the sheath of his sword and have you bare yourself over his desk and-Least to say Andre always thought twice on breaking his rules, and never did so intentionally. But this matter was different, Titus was in trouble, and he wanted to help him. "I agree, Titus would be, in the very least, greatly displeased."
"Puriel would not be happy either." Donavon shifts from foot to foot, looking down for a moment, and looked up with a cautious expression. "I don't know how you all get straightened out, but Puri is firm handed, I like to avoid making him angry at me."
"Guys, I get it, I do." Paul leans forward over the desk, crossing his arms under him. "I, myself, don't like the feeling of Nis's belt, but they need us now."
"Why don't we just tell one of the Archangel. They would be more then willing to go after them."
"That's an idea." The Captain's oldest charge nods. "But it's not personal to them. It's personal to us. This is something we have to do."
"We want it known that we don't approve of this half cocked rescue mission you're all planning rather openly." They all jump at the elder's voice, they're so quiet, they spend so much time in their room, they had forgotten that they were still in the Pavilion. All eyes turn to the doorway of the Captain's office, where the two elder Sentry's stood, they're still holding hands. Gadreel has healed enough to walk but is still working on talking to others outside of the duo that was Titus and Abner. And Akriel. Any of the Virtues really. Abner looks between them all carefully, his expression giving way to the disapproval they both felt, and all four boys averted their eyes away from his stern gaze. "But if you're going to go after them, you're going to need two things." He holds up one finger, "You're going to need someone to patch you up if you get injured." And holds up the second finger. "And something more than just training weapons."
"You mean…?"
"I can get you weapons from the Warriors Armory. Those would be better suited for your mission." He looks between them all. "But any wrath that becomes from this mission is yours to face alone. You all know how they'd feel about this." Abner turns his attention to Donavon, and the youth fidgets slightly, good, he should. "You can take Puriel's sword."
"I'm not supposed to touch it."
"It's a short sword, curved, it'll still be a bit large for you, but you'll handle it fine." Abner raises an eyebrow. "And you know you're not supposed to go on half cocked missions without the knowledge of an elder, yet, you're still going to do that."
"Technically speaking," Paul stands up slowly from the Captain's chair. "You guys are elders."
"And, technically speaking," the older sentry points a finger at the Power Captain's oldest boy. "We're not medically cleared to be giving you such permissions."
Paul points a finger right back at him, the others looking back and forth between them as they watched the conversation they were having. "Ah, but, you're not, not, medically cleared to give us permission."
"That makes no sense."
He whines softly, slouching inwards. "I knoooow."
Abner nods at him, he gets why Nisroc is so fond of the boy, he's highly amusing, word on the grapevine is that he had spent too much time with Haniel while he was growing up. It showed. He turns, pulling Gadreel around with him gently, and gestures for them to follow from over his shoulder. The Armory for the Warriors was where all the real weapons were kept, where the Power's kept their arsenal of weapons, only actual Warriors could get in. The door was locked, one needed to use their grace to get in, it was like a scanner or finger print pad, only the grace of a Warrior or Guard could open the door. Trainees were not allowed in, the locking mechanism wouldn't even respond to them, but once your grace in put in the mechanism, it was never taken out, the locking mechanism wouldn't respond to them but it would respond to Abner.
They gather around him as he leads them to the Armory door, peers at them from over his shoulder, and reaches forward to press his hand to the front of the stone door. The runes in the door slowly light up with amber colored grace, the locks built within click and tumble as they're undone from the latches, they gather closer around him, standing up on their toes to peer over his shoulders to see into the mysterious Armory that they ordinarily wouldn't have been granted access to.
"Welcome to the real Armory."
"This is amazing!" They follow him inside, staring and looking about in awe, the rooms filled to the brim with weapons. Maces, lances, swords, bows, spears, short swords, long swords, scythes, daggers, every weapon one could imagine was within these walls. "Why are all the weapons kept in here?"
"Because we don't want them to fall into the wrong hands."
"Oh, in case of an ambush."
"No." They come to stand before a set of large wooden cubby's. "In case any genius younglings get any good ideas."
"We resent that."
Abner turns to look at the Captain's youngest charge. "No, you represent that."
"Hey," Andre steps forward, between Paul and Donavon, and runs his finger over the name plate on one of the cubbies. "This has Tus's name on it."
"Very good." Abner gestures to the row of six cubbies. "These are their personal racks. I figure if your going to save them you may as well borrow from them too."
The sentry points at the medic's boy. "You take his sword." Donavon nods, stepping forward to the rack, taking the sword from its place.
Then, he points to the Captain's two charges. "Nisroc has a set of short swords, one for each of you, they're the same, no fighting over them." They both exchange a look, Paul bows and gestures his younger brother forward with a sweep of his arm, Sasha elbows him in the side lightly.
"Here, Andre," they'd been introduced by Titus after the first week of them opening up to him, if they were going to be staying under the Guard captain's watchful eyes, they'd have to have met his charge. Abner pulls Gadreel forward with him as he steps up to the young guard in training's side, reaching into the cubby for a belt of daggers. "Take these."
He turns to look at them all, sizing them each over carefully, and gives them a nod. "You've got your weapons. Now you need some healers."
…
"Hey, you guys." They look up at the call for their attention, sitting upon the stairs of the Infirmary, kicked out for having asked about the Virtues for the twentieth time within the last hour, they were getting more in the way then they were helping, so they were dismissed. "Hey."
"Hey, Paul." Araton waves at him, curling a hand over her eyes, to block out the bright sun as the four of them approach. The four of them eye the warriors in training curiously. "Where'd you get real weapons?"
"Abner helped us." Paul looks over his shoulders to the others behind him. "We're going to get our family back, you wanna come?"
Orion and Gzel exchange looks, the older sister looking up at them with scrutinizing eyes, as though waiting curiously, firmly, for their answer. "Can I beat people up?"
"Of course, you can."
That's all it really took to convince Gzel. "Okay, I'm in." Orion was not so easily convinced as her sister was, she rubbed her knees nervously, gazing between the Power's boys and her sister. Akriel wouldn't be happy with them for putting themselves into danger, he'd be right angry at them, and she didn't like making Akriel angry at her. He didn't do it often, nothing really warranted it, but doing this would most certainly be something that he would say warranted a trip over his knee. She didn't like being in that position. It hurt. "I don't know." She wrings her hands together. "Akriel won't be happy." The quiet little healer looks up to her sister. "He'll be very mad that we put ourselves in danger."
Gzel rubs her arm softly. "I'll protect you, Rio, no one'll get their hands on you."
"But he'll still be mad." Orion shakes her head. "I don't like it when he's mad."
"I'll tell him I goaded you into you and that you didn't want to do it."
She seemed to consider it, it would help if Gzel took the brunt of his anger, it would mean less consequence for her. Orion inhaled deeply, taking a deep sigh, and nodded her head in acquiesce. "Okay. I'll come."
Inca looks between them all, he knows what Oren would do if he found out he'd went along with this half cocked plan, but he missed his guardian. The week he'd been gone was one of the longest weeks of his life, he had to sleep all alone in their spacious bedroom, listening to every creek and bump in the night without the protection of the Captain there to keep the fright away. He was willing to take the risk of facing his anger if it meant getting him back. 'I'm in too.'
They all turned to the little apothecary for her input, Araton looked between them all in equal turn, Zed wasn't someone you wanted to upset, and putting herself into danger by doing this would most certainly upset him. But at the same time, something had happened that brought him to capture, he needed her now, he needed her help. She was willing to take the risk of upsetting him if it meant getting him back. "I'll come too."
Donavon smiles at them. "Awesome, grab what you need, we have to get out of here before anyone notices our disappearance."
The four healers nod in sync, jumping from the stair that lounged on, and ran back up to disappear inside the Infirmary. The Power's charges looked around, as if to see if anyone had noticed anything out of place, and in order to watch to ensure nothing became of it if they did notice something was out of place.
They didn't have to wait long, the others came running back down the steps after a few minutes, the items they had gone for in hand. Orion had Akriel's daggers secured around her waist. Inca had Oren's short sword in hand. Araton had a satchel hanging over her shoulder.
They all looked at her oddly. They were going into battle and she brought a satchel.
"What?" She looks between them all curiously. "I'm working on some new things and I want to see how they work out."
…
"Something's going on out there."
They curled their fingers around the bars of their prison, the only thing keeping them from seeing what was going on before them was the door, it was a pathetic prison of a cell, it was the simplest of things that kept them from breaking free of their prison.
The cuffs around their wrists kept them powerless, they were basically human, there was nothing they could do.
"I hope my girls are okay." They all turned to look at the mental specialist, leaning forward on his knees, his head resting on his palms. "I promised to be back two days ago."
"I'm sure they're fine, Ak," Ephraim rubs his shoulder gently. "They're strong girls. They'll be excited to see you no matter the day you return."
"I hope Paul hasn't done something stupid that could endanger his life and everyone else's." They all turned to look at the Power's Captain, leaning against the bars of their cell, fingers curls loosely around two bars. He looks over at them at the silence behind him. "I know my charges very well."
"Someone's touching my sword." Puriel straightens, it's like someone is touching his grace, and their squeezing it rather firmly too, it's a bit uncomfortable. Oren straightens next to him. "Someone's touching my sword as well."
The thing with their swords, their actual swords, is that it's infused with their grace. That's how they can control it so fluidly, it is literally an extension of them, it's a part of them.
"I miss Araton." Zeb's fingers tightened around the bars of their cell. "I wish I could see her."
The door opened and someone slipped in, the door clicking shut softly behind them, and a shadow crossed over the far wall.
They all jumped up, crowding around the bars of their cell, trying to make out the figure creeping around. "Who's there!"
The shadow froze for a moment, and stepped out of the darkness, Zed's eyes widen in surprise and wonder's for a moment if his Father has a twisted sense of humor. "Araton?"
The little apothecary comes to stand in front of her master, smiling up at him in greeting, and he stares down at her with wide eyes. "Hi, Z." He reaches through the bars, cradling her face in his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. "Ara, what on earth are you doing here?"
"Well, my job is to get you guys out, the others are keeping everyone else distracted."
"What do yo—"
"Okay, hold still, I don't know what this stuff will do if it touches your skin."
"Wha-"
She looks down, digging through her satchel for the vials she brought, pulling out a bright green concoction and poured just a bit of it on the cuffs curled around his wrists. He watched in fascination as the metal slowly began to sizzle, and he was able to pull them off before the toxic mixture managed to touch his skin, if it could melt metal, he didn't want to see what it could do to flesh and bone. "Araton, that is amazing."
Haniel shoved his hands out towards her. "Do me!"
"No, do me!" Constantine copied him.
She giggled softly, coming to stand before the Power, and dripped a few drops of her green mixture over the metal cuffs, before moving on to the Virtue. She did them in order, from where they stood, and then focused on the locking mechanism. They crowded around her, on the other side of the bars, as the little apothecary eyed the lock carefully.
Araton shrugs lightly, pouring the rest of her concoction over the lock, and they watched in fascination as it sizzled and melted away.
"Zed," Nisroc pats his shoulder lightly. "You're girl is amazing."
He smiles down at his little apprentice fondly. "I know she is."
She steps aside as the door swings open, and both the Virtues and the Powers step out, Zed cradles her cheek lightly as he comes to stand before her. "You all are in so much trouble."
…
Paul and Sasha started when two large hands appeared from above them, fingers curling around the hilts of the short swords, and lifted them up from their grasp, turning to look up in surprise, meeting the stern eyes of their guardian.
Nisroc smiled down at them in greeting. "Thank you for the aid. We'll talk more about this later." He nodded to the side. "Get behind me." They both nodded, not needing to be told twice, and quickly skirted around him to stand behind him, peering out from his sides.
Puriel and Oren took their swords back, nodding in the same manner, and they peered out from behind their respective guardian to watch the fray about to unfold.
"Thanks for the help." Akriel rubs his hand over Gzel's head, Orion hanging on to the back of his tunic, and turns back to their foe at hand. "But we'll take it from here."
…
The eight of them looked to their feet in shame, under the stern gazes of their respective Archangels, not daring attempt a glance lest they see the angry burning in their eyes.
"Of all the foolish and dangerous things, you all could think to do," Michael looked between each one of them. "You decide it wise to go after a foe strong enough to capture not only my Powers, but Raphael's Virtues as well?"
"Do you realize how dangerous that was?" Raphael was just as angry as Michael was, but his anger was a soft anger, a slow simmering anger. "You could have gotten yourselves killed."
Their guardians stood behind them, their hands resting gently on their shoulders, a solid piece of evidence that they were not alone in this.
Michael exchanged a look with his brother, and they share a nod, crossing their arms as they both turn to peer back at their young flock members. "We think it best, given the circumstance, if your guardians deal with this matter."
