xOxOxO

"...and that about covers it."

"Okay," Zelgadis said. A brush with violent death followed by an improbable rescue at the rubbery hands of fish-people didn't phase him much. Being alive and in one functional piece was fine, even if they were under some kind of unexplained piscatory arrest. Knife-wielding fish-people marched him and Lina forwards. Their wrists were bound behind their backs with strips of seaweed that would fall apart in a light breeze. "Where's Gourry?"

"He's fine," Lina snapped, and Zelgadis didn't push it. "When I woke up I asked if anybody saw a big lunk of a guy like a Seyruun horse," she said, without making eye contact. "But nobody did. So, you know, I'm sure he's fine wherever."

"So why are we under arrest?"

This earned him a prod in the ribs from a mossy fish-man guarding his side. "It's the sea shaman's orders, yessir," the guard said. "Bring you both to the sea shaman's palace as soon as you woke up, yessir."

The sea shaman's palace awaited them in a cave where they had to duck beneath thousands of icicles hanging above them; Zelgadis thought of the leech monster and its countless layered teeth. The cave narrowed and deepened into a tunnel, dark but for swarms of tiny glowing insects that streaked trails of blue light. He and Lina knocked shoulders against the walls while the fish-people slithered unnervingly around them.

Further down, the cave opened to a wide grotto, warm and brightly lit, but their guards shoved them down with prodding blades before they could look. "How dare you!" shouted a fish sentry, livid at their perceived impertinence. "Don't you dare look up with your hideous flat faces! Prostrate yourselves in front of our leader!"

"But they're not in front of him yet," another fish-person pointed out.

"Well, they can crawl!"

Lina and Zelgadis traded a quick glance that sealed a sacred oath to never discuss this for the rest of their lives. They bent to scoot along on their knees, faces down and hands bound, as their captors nudged them along. The ice on the cave floor gave way to smoothed, iridescent seashells, and Zelgadis could smell a familiar presence of grass and light pickle brine.

"As you requested, Your Lordship! These filthy brutes have awakened and are here to await your punishment!"

"A punishment which doesn't include death, by the way," said a male voice either of them could have picked out halfway across the continent.

"Gourry!" Lina's head snapped up and she sat forward, bringing her arms around and breaking the restraints apart. The fish-people gasped at this feat of astonishing strength. "Gourry, you're…"

Gourry stood on a dais beside a robed figure on a coral throne. His eyes met Lina's, and he smiled his genuine bent smile, but there was apprehension in his eyes. There were also frilly ribbons in his hair, and he was—

"...still in a dress," Lina finished, like she shouldn't have expected anything else.

"Helping," Gourry corrected. The robed figure nodded.

"The fish-people say this beautiful priestess looks like their goddess of the sacred plains," he said. Zelgadis had heard the voice before but couldn't place it. "When we gathered victims from the ice-temple, she demanded we save and spare you, though I had quite different plans."

See, helping, Gourry's expression said. Lina seemed willing to concede that, if not the 'brutes' part. "Say, buddy," she said to the seated stranger, "what's your issue with us, anyway?"

The fish sentry gave her a pointed kick to the head. "How dare you talk back to His Holiness, the savior of our tribe, the great sea shaman Dramitts!"

Oh. Oh no. Zelgadis glanced around in search of exits, wondering when they would blast their way out. Lina was still trying to place the association. Her excellent memory didn't extend to anything that might have been her fault, especially not a throwaway gag from twelve chapters ago.

"Oh, right! The palace shaman from Seyruun that we, uh…"

"Yes, you brutes," Dramitts snarled, lowering his hood. His once-fleshy face had grown thin and was covered in pink pincer scars. "You left me to drown in the ocean, where I was seized by the twisted bass crabs and spent months toiling in their hoard. When a brave company of fish-people attacked I fled with them, and have grown to love these strong, noble souls."

Lina scratched the side of her face. "Well, we appreciate you healing us and not throwing us off the cliffs. Maybe…" She darted her eyes back to Gourry, who gave her a look, and she winced. "...maybe there's something we could do for you?"

Dramitts settled back on his throne. "The fish-people tell me that many centuries ago," he began, undeterred by the abruptness of this segue, "the ancient dragons appointed this tribe to be guardians of a great healing shrine that maintains balance in the world. But over the generations, greedy thieves stole from the shrine and robbed its legendary treasures."

Zelgadis thought the ancient dragons should have known better than to entrust anything valuable to a civilization best known for mass hysteria; then again, if Filia was any indication, dragon judgment left a lot to be desired. With a sigh Zelgadis broke his restraints (the fish-people gasped again and cowered in fear) and settled in for a lecture.

"In fact, the last few of the shrine's altar stones were stolen by another man from the ice-temple…"

"We chased him off with knives, yessir!" the sentry said with pride.

Dramitts gave him an indulgent smile and continued. "Now, all the altar stones have disappeared. Without the stones, the altar began to collapse, and the balance of light and darkness is in jeopardy. A great demonic spirit from another plane is seeping through and warping the creatures in this one."

"The mist?" Lina asked. Dramitts nodded and stroked his chin.

"Consider the bass crabs, which once extracted all poisons and ailments, now damage astral bodies instead of curing them. Infected by the mist, they travel in swarms in search of strong emotions, stealing guilt, grief, and shame. Every few months they attack this poor tribe and carry off a weakling. Which naturally creates more pain that the crabs return to seize for themselves."

Zelgadis cleared his throat in an effort to shake Lina's attention. He could feel her gaze, beady-eyed and wary, slick like sweat on the side of his face. "What do you want us to do?"

"The bass crabs have a great hoard just south of here. They store all their plunder and captives there. They may have pieces of the shrine. Liberate the hoard and bring back any tribespeople. And then…" Dramitts steepled his fingers and regarded them coldly. "Then we'll decide what comes next."

They had to decide what came first, too. They huddled outside the cave, joined by Pokota, whom to Zelgadis's neverending disappointment had survived just fine. As they talked through their options it became clear they were at odds. Lina had heard "treasure" and needed no further information. Gourry, in singular Gourry fashion, felt responsible for the fish-people that looked to him for guidance, and Pokota agreed (Pokota naturally had a soft spot for a culture everyone else dismissed). Zelgadis thought they should be going after Kaunan, the relics dealer who was obviously a key player in this whole mess. With no one yielding, they settled on a temporary split: Zelgadis and Lina would search for the crab hoard, while Pokota and Gourry stayed at the lagoon. They agreed to meet up again at nightfall, in a hot spring to the south.

The situation put Zelgadis on edge. There were precious few situations where Gourry was willing to part ways with Lina, and the worst things always happened when he did. Lina's breezy "I'm sure it'll be fine" might as well have been a kiss of death.

After trading testy goodbyes they set out along the lonely coast, scrambling over broken ice slabs in an endless gray plateau with no compassion for human frailty. For Zelgadis, it was a balm to his inhuman instincts. The pressures, vibrations, and heat signatures that became a muddled mess in towns were now available to him in perfect clarity; birds flew overhead in long arcs he could somehow feel between his shoulderblades. The absolute stillness, the isolation, the humbling might of nature, was all something Rezo would have appreciated. If you could withstand the ungodly cold you might find it peaceful.

"You saw that crab machine," Lina said, and Zelgadis remembered "peaceful" was a pipe dream as long as she was around. "It's a lot like…"

"The one from Calliope," he finished.

"Yeah." The wind howled past them and she clutched at her thin arms. "That Kaunan guy said it was lost magic. I want to talk to him about it."

Zelgadis wanted to talk too, for reasons that had little to do with lost magic. Kaunan had access to powerful magical artifacts, eminent politicians, and a steady stream of information. A slimy bastard who would double-cross his way out of the womb, the Majority's leader had said. But to what end? Years ago Rodimus had warned him to beware opponents whose motives he didn't understand. While Kaunan wasn't their opponent yet, he knew better. Slimy double-crossing bastards had a nasty habit of getting into fights.

"I don't know that anyone here understands magic anyway," Lina was saying, evidently not needing Zelgadis to participate in the conversation. "Too bad the best sources we have on lost magic are Filia and…"

"Don't say it."

"Yeah, yeah. But he could be helpful."

"How kind of you, Lina-san."

Xellos appeared before them with a pair of sparkling fuzzy earmuffs. This time it was Zelgadis's turn to give Lina a look, but Zelgadis didn't have a fraction of Gourry's influence in that regard. She just shrugged.

"How long have you been here?" Zelgadis demanded, seizing him by the collar. As was customary, Xellos paid him no mind; Zelgadis assumed he did it to make him angrier. He didn't know why he cared whether a creature of pure evil and depravity spoke to him, and hated that he didn't know. It was Xellos, so Zelgadis hated.

"Hey, Xellos," Lina said, hands on her hips. "Got time to answer some questions?"

"I would prefer an exchange," Xellos replied coolly. He picked up a lock of her long, unruly hair, inspecting it as a diligent lapidary might scrutinize rubies. "I can answer some questions if you'll be so kind as to help me."

"We won't," Zelgadis asserted.

"What do you want?" Lina asked, indifferent to Zelgadis's groan of protest.

"Ah, I was just thinking a red hair ring would be useful."

"A hair ring?" she said and batted his hand away. "Why would a mazoku need folk magic?"

"Now, now. From a sorceress of your caliber it would be a very strong binding spell. It would also be discreet, which is an advantage in a place so hostile to ordinary magic. An unconventional place calls for unconventional methods, hmm?"

"Speaking of unconventional…"

"Ah, ah, ah, Lina-san." He waved his index finger at her and clucked his tongue. No one knew why a high-ranking mazoku delighted in mischief and smarm; it seemed Xellos found more satisfaction in being annoying than being feared. "No answers until we have a deal. A little token for a little chat. What do you say?"

"Don't give him your hair," Zelgadis pleaded, appalled that it had to be said.

But he was halfway expecting both of them to ignore him again, so it was a pleasant surprise when Lina nodded. "Mmm, yeah. Let me give it some thought."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. If you decide, I'll be at Apicius's for their octopus in garum sauce. Goodbye, Lina-san," Xellos said, and disappeared into the astral plane beyond the broken slabs of ice and timid falling snow. The only lingering proof of his presence was Zelgadis's elevated blood pressure and a smell like lukewarm milk.

"Don't give your hair to Xellos," Zelgadis repeated.

"It's not ideal, but…" Lina curled the strand of hair around her fingers. "If he actually needed it he'd just take it. It can't be all that important if he's letting me choose."

"That's what he wants you to think!" His angry retort reverberated around them, into the ice under their feet.

"Xellos isn't helpful for free. You know that."

"Why do anything for him at all? Aren't you worried about how he's mixed up in all this? Why would you let him manipulate you?"

"If he's manipulating me, then this must be part of his plan too," Lina said, unconcerned. For two individuals with significant odds of someday killing each other, she and Xellos had an unexpectedly close connection. It might have been a mutual understanding as masters of some of the world's most powerful magic, or maybe it was a shared irritation at obtaining that level of power and still having to follow rules. "So tell me, Zel. How do you think I'm supposed to respond to you? Should I go along with what you say, or argue some more while Xellos does whatever he wants anyway?"

Zelgadis decided that didn't deserve a response and kept walking. Lina must have realized that she'd pricked at him a bit too much, because her next words were kind, sort of.

"You impressed me once," she said, implying that it was a rare privilege to earn her esteem. That was not an ordinary way to compliment someone, but Lina Inverse was not an ordinary person. "When we were up against Valgaav, and you said you didn't want to lose who you were. I always hoped, but…I thought you might agree with him. About starting the world over."

Zelgadis turned over the memory in his mind as if encountering it for the first time. The darkness, the void, the place beyond time. He had said that, hadn't he?

I don't want to lose the person I am...

But why? Logical explanations eluded him, and illogical ones were also in short supply. "Well, I didn't," he muttered as his brain thrashed and floundered. The memory was complete and yet it was not. Why did I say that? Why didn't I want to lose being this?

He strode ahead and Lina hurried to catch up, her light footsteps crunching behind him. "Zel," she began, with a hesitation that made him dread whatever was coming next, "This isn't you. You know that, right?"

"I know what you think," he said darkly.

"No, it's…even for not being like you, this isn't like you." Before he could applaud that masterful tautology she went on. "Why aren't you mad that something messed with your head? You of all people hate that stuff! You should be yelling that nobody else gets to control you or decide what you feel. I don't get it!"

Zelgadis wheeled around so abruptly that Lina slammed headfirst into his chest. "Of course I'm mad," he spat, glowering down at her. To his surprise her face showed the sort of concern she most often kept hidden under layers of yelling and punching, and he softened. "But whatever happened, whatever this is, it's made…distance. Freedom," he admitted. "I can look back on things now without being tortured by them. Rezo, Rodimus, everything I've ever done, I'm not suffering because of it anymore. Can you understand that?"

She looked pensive. They stood together, alone on the ice, and Zelgadis wanted to know what she thought about struggling against such vast inner turmoil. He got his answer when she kicked him hard in the stomach, catapulting him into a snowbank.

"Screw your distance!" Lina scoffed. "So you don't wanna feel bad things anymore? Are you kidding me? I thought you wanted to be human!"

Zelgadis choked on a mouthful of snow but didn't get up, staring into the snowflakes that came down on him in dizzying waves. Anything was better than acknowledging that those last few words had hit him harder than her foot.

"Is that your excuse?" she went on. For all her strengths Lina never could tell when she'd made her point. "Man, I'm going to go find those stupid crabs and make them fix you so I don't have to put up with this. How does Amelia do it…?"

"If it's all the same to you," Zelgadis coughed, and admitting this was just as painful, "I'd rather talk about Xellos."

xOxOxO

No ship had ever crossed the sea as fast as the Seyruun Nostrum, but no ship had ever been outfitted with a state-of-the-art Jillas engine. They were on track to reach Yalain in under two weeks, provided they kept the many monsters at bay.

Amelia insisted on being the first line of defense. Filia served as her second, using magic or a mace, or contributing close air support as a golden dragon with laser breaths. Sylphiel provided her all-important cheerleading from a safe spot on deck. (There was also a detachment from Seyruun's paltry military, but they were no match for holy ladies on a mission.)

"Amelia-san, what will you do in Yalain?" Filia asked as she replaced the mace in its ribboned holster.

A wildebat winged by and Amelia caught it with a piercing Flare Arrow that delivered the shrieking monster to its watery grave. "Whatever serves justice!" Amelia said, allowing herself a victory pose. She didn't know what she would have to do. "Negotiating? Rescuing our friends? Lots of diplomacy, I'm sure. Or maybe I'll defeat an evil dragon with a Ra Tilt so strong that the duke of Yalain will decide to embrace magic!"

"I should tell Zelgadis-san…"

This came from Sylphiel, staring into the sea. Amelia would not have heard it if not for an unmistakable name she always made extra effort to hear. "What did you say about Zelgadis-san?" she asked, puzzled.

Sylphiel waved both hands in a gesture equal parts frantic and sheepishly. "Oh, n-nothing," she said, lying so badly that it seemed wrong to call her on it. "I owe him a report about some of those poisons in the household."

"Poisons? Is all that still happening?"

For a moment it was quiet but for the steady hum of the Jillas engine and the churning bow waves. Filia looked questioningly back and forth between Amelia and Sylphiel. Frigid wind lashed at their hair as the boat sped over the waters.

"I don't know," Sylphiel said.

xOxOxO

Lina and Zelgadis spent so much time trying to map out Xellos's possible intentions that they'd almost forgotten about their plans to meet up at the hot springs. It was close to midnight when they arrived in the little mountain village, amidst tourists and fish-people seeking respite for sore muscles.

While Lina went in search of a late night meal, Zelgadis found Gourry and Pokota at one of the natural boiling springs, nestled amongst dense trees and snow-capped rocks. Gourry lunged back and forth as he practiced footwork drills. Pokota sat on a satchel flipping through a book, and Zelgadis belatedly realized both were his.

"Hey, there you are!" Gourry said brightly. "We were getting worried. Where's Lina?"

"Eating, or trying to." The air around the hot springs was just warm enough that winter gear wasn't needed, at least if you were a chimera with a hide like an ox. Zelgadis removed the coat, gloves, and heavy balaclava, feeling relieved. Darkness was always more accepting of freaks.

"Huh, I guess she'll be a while then. Wanna fence?"

"What, him versus you?" Pokota snorted. "Like he stands a chance."

"Don't be so sure. Zel beat me once."

Zelgadis furrowed his brow. Yes, he'd beaten Gourry one time, after the latter had drunk fifteen beers and had one arm tied behind his back, and even then it was almost a draw, but Pokota didn't need to know that. Moreover, arguing about Xellos left him with plenty of furious energy. "Let's go, then."

They tapped their blades together in a formal en garde and stepped back. Zelgadis tried to focus on Gourry's elbows and wrists to look for flexing, signs of movement, but Gourry didn't give hints. His whole body tensed and moved together as steady as a pulse.

"We've been so bored we were reading your stupid book," Pokota interrupted. "It's dumb and it sucks, like you. I can't tell what's going on."

Gourry struck out in a swing of ringing silver, so fluid the sword flowed in one motion along his wrists, and with such speed Zelgadis struggled to parry. "I dunno, I thought it had some neat parts, but there wasn't much of a plot."

"It's philosophy," Zelgadis grunted. It took every bit of his concentration to keep up with Gourry. He couldn't afford stray thoughts, much less an involved conversation, but now all he could think about was how bored Gourry must have been to be reading. "It doesn't have a plot."

Pokota flipped a page with his ear-hand. "This part seems like it's all about knights and princesses."

"The princess is a metapod," said Gourry.

"Metaphor," Zelgadis and Pokota corrected in unison. They glared at each other. Gourry took the initiative to swipe Zelgadis along the forearm.

"Anyway, the princess is a metaphor for believing in something that might not exist. Isn't that right, Zel?"

"Right," Zelgadis said, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Gourry was looking at him. He advanced and feinted towards Gourry's shoulder, but Gourry caught his sword in a dismissive (and humiliating) circular parry-riposte, flicking the blade aside like a haughty nobleman shooing a servant away. "It's not about knights marrying a princess. It's about whether people can have faith in something impossible."

Pokota mulled it over. "So the knight is some guy who mopes a lot and the princess is the cure he never shuts up about. Yeah, I get it. It's still dumb."

"There are two knights though, right?" Gourry asked, so relaxed he might as well have been chatting at a pub, all while he drove Zelgadis backwards in a flurry of pitiless, rib-rattling strikes. The ease with which he wielded such overwhelming force was…similar to Xellos, in a way. No. No one deserved to be compared to Xellos.

"Yes. There's the knight of resignation and the knight of faith. They both want to…" Zelgadis's tongue stuck in his throat. "...marry the princess, but they can't. And they know that."

Pokota began to read in a contemptuous tone, skimming as he went. " 'It is out of the question to think of marrying her, an impossibility to translate his dreams into reality…he does not surrender his love, not for all the riches in the world…blah, blah, blah. 'The knight of resignation is supposed to have sufficient energy to concentrate the entire contents of his life and the realization of existing conditions into one single wish…So, what? He obsesses over the princess his whole life though he knows he can't marry her? What's the point?"

"I thought falling in love with princesses is just what knights do. It's like how cats get stuck in trees," Gourry said. After a series of outside feints he lunged straight at Zelgadis, who blocked the hit with the pommel of his sword but leaned too hard into the blow. When Gourry disengaged and stepped out of the way, Zelgadis's momentum sent him tripping forward straight into the pool, and the bout ended with an unceremonious splash. Fortunately Pokota couldn't mock two things at once.

"Is this some other language? 'It is a contradiction to forget the main contents of one's life and still remain the same person…Deeper natures never forget themselves and never change their essential qualities. So the knight remembers all; but precisely this remembrance is painful. Nevertheless, in his infinite resignation he has become reconciled with existence.' Come on, that's fake. Those words don't mean anything."

Zelgadis spent a couple seconds contemplating drowning, but the pool was too shallow for that small mercy. The bubbling hot springs and arctic cold invigorated him as it pulled his senses between extremes. He pulled off his tunic and tossed it into the nearby snow, where it landed with a hiss of steam.

"When you want something that much, when your desire for it becomes your whole life…it becomes part of you," he said, shielding his eyes to hide a creeping blush. Talking about his cure was already more intimate than he could stand, but something about the allegory made him queasy as well. "The knight knows he's never going to marry the princess, and he's fine with it, because his love defines him."

The more he thought about it the more he decided Pokota might be right, as intolerable as that was to consider. It was stupid to think the search for the cure was an essential part of him, that in searching for it he'd found himself. That was just a pathetic attempt to not admit that he'd wasted his life. And it was his own fault for trying to entertain this level of discussion with Pokota and Gourry, of all people (and Pokota didn't count as a person)—

—Gourry who had defied the will of the universe for love, and Pokota who had sacrificed his own body and spent years alone in a desperate quest to save Taforashia—

I don't want to lose the person I am…

Why did I say that?

Zelgadis peered between his fingers and saw Gourry and Pokota reading together. As so often happened when he was immersed in thought, his friends had moved on without him. Gourry held up the book sideways just to be sure it didn't make more sense from that angle, then turned it back again.

"See, I kinda understand this part. 'The knight does not cancel his resignation, but preserves his love as fresh and young as it was at the first moment, he never lets go of it just because his resignation is absolute.' Get it? Like Zel said, he gives up and then he's free. His love for the princess becomes part of him even if they don't get married."

"That's lame," said Pokota, whose idea of romance was something unprintable. "So what about the other knight? Oh, wait, here it is. 'He does precisely as the other knight, he absolutely resigns the love which is the contents of his life, he is reconciled to the pain; but then the miraculous happens, he makes one more movement, strange beyond comparison, saying: 'And still I believe that I shall marry her—marry her by virtue of the absurd, by virtue of the act that to God nothing is impossible.' "

Pokota looked at Gourry. Gourry looked at Zelgadis. Zelgadis wished he'd brought a book about something else.

"I guess that would be like me believing in a cure," Pokota said, wiggling his tail. "I don't have a human body to heal or go back to. There's no point."

Over the past few months Zelgadis had read the passage again and again. The knight of resignation might be pathetic, but the knight of faith was insane. To know something is impossible and believe it anyway, to believe in the absurd…

Rezo's pronouncement had been absolute: there was no cure. So why had Zelgadis's first reaction been to go searching for it? Why was he still looking? It wasn't about some great faith, he knew that much, but there had to be a reason. He couldn't shake the sense that he did have an answer, somewhere in those damned gray clouds.

"It's as useless for me as it is for you," Zelgadis said. Ice formed a stinging crust along the tips of his ears. "I can't…"

I can't be cured.

He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, but that embarrassing metaphor came to the rescue. "The knight won't marry the princess," he said. "It's impossible, it's absurd. And to know something is impossible and believe in it anyway would be like…like…"

"Phil?" Gourry suggested. Pokota cracked up, and any hope for real reflection died forever as Gourry and Pokota talked about the most ridiculous things they'd seen from the gloriously mad king of Seyruun. Zelgadis fumed at their cheerfulness; did they not realize this was a serious subject full of angst and drama about the human condition, about the difference between yearning souls and an unsympathetic world?

"It's not about people, it's about the world!" He gestured with such force that water splashed around him in sizzling droplets. "People might be absurd, but the world is rational and follows rules, the world is governed by logic, the world is—"

"Gourry!" cried a bright female voice, sweeter and needier than usual. "Gou-rrrrry, help! I was going fishing and almost ate somebody's dad. You gotta put on a dress and pretend to be a priestess so we don't go back to fish-person prison."

Chimeras didn't need to sleep much—a full night every few days, or two hours every day was fine—and indeed that night Zelgadis didn't sleep at all. Not even a warm bed in a cozy cottage could tempt him to rest. He paced and debated in search of an answer that couldn't be found in a great book. No, this was his decision, to be made in solitude, after grave contemplation. It was the sort of decision that would be a focal point in someone's autobiography. Were Zelgadis ever to be so important as to write one, he decided he would omit that the actual decision took less than an hour, and instead focus on the soul-stirring internal monologue. No, he knew now. The way forward was clear.

Three hours later it was time to act. He stormed into the room of a certain someone who could never resist the temptation of a warm bed. When Zelgadis flung open the door, Lina just mumbled something about bacon. He grabbed her gloves off a dressing table and flung them at her. She yelped.

"Wha?"

"Wake up. We're getting out of here."

Lina squinted, both at him and the alien notion of being awake in pitch-black night. "Huh? It's the middle of the night." She craned her neck towards a mechanical clock on her bedside stand. "It's…half-past five? Zel, I swear, if you don't get out of here this second—"

"Let's go." Although he was not Gourry, his seriousness was enough that Lina didn't turn him into a mixed meat roast. He turned around and folded his arms, dissatisfied at how hasty it all felt. Whatever happened to his aptitude for cool entrances and sharp quips? That alone was a reason to remedy this.

"Zel…?"

"Get dressed," Zelgadis said. "We're going after those crabs."

xOxOxO