Chapter Eight: Shooting Star
A gasp and a click. A painful twitch and a cold spasm, each of which sent sharp cries out into the oblivion of the endless forest. Exhausted, bare, and trembling, muscles spasmed under the the strain as suddenly a man was born again and the wolf inside him was left to sleep. Thoughts turned from images and concepts to words. Sights began to have names. Remus remembered his name.
He remembered his name. He remembered his name. His name was—tears, hot with pain and cold with fear, slipped across his bloodstained face. He remembered his name. And things were so hard to remember.
Ragged, panting breaths escaped him as he twitched on hand and knee, his eyes struggling to focus on the fingers that felt so small, so strangely small without the long claws that had adorned their tips mere moments before. A shudder rolled over his spine and he felt something click. His mouth hung open as angry whisps of steam fell from his lips, bleeding and raw as the cold bit into fresh skin and razor sharp fangs slowly sank back into his gums.
And again—once again—Remus was human.
But he barely felt it.
He remembered his name, though, and he held onto that like a torch in the dark even as the cold light of a new dawn burned across the fading, starry sky.
He gasped as the pain registered completely now, images of a snout, bloodied and bruised, tearing his body apart. His arms gave and he fell forward onto his elbows and then onto his belly, feeling the prickle of pine needles against his naked body. He could see the blood scattered on the fallen leaves and his thighs burned as he brought them to his chest and fresh scabs opened anew. The new human's mind whirled as he pieced together what was happening, and suddenly he rolled over to release the contents of his stomach: some red bile and bits of grey and white fur, splattering the leaves and the new chutes of wolfsbane that left a sweet tang against the scent of the forest.
A hot snort left saliva droplets across his ear and Remus nearly screamed as he turned, insides cold. A creature—a balverine, he remembered—she stood over him, her unnaturally long limbs pressed tightly to her as she sat on her haunches and watched him with a curious gaze in her golden eyes. She snorted at him again, a broad, pink tongue snaking across her nostrils as she wiped the scent away.
Remus felt himself frown. She was familiar to him. Somehow. She was important. She was—she was—
He let out a hiss. He couldn't think straight, not yet. Laying back on his elbows, Remus looked her form up and down several times, trying to get the broken bits to finally click. His chest trembled, as much in shock from transforming as much as fear, the powerful creature standing over him hardly a calming sight. But each pump of blood to his brain was the water of life. With each passing second, he remembered a little more. He could piece together a little more. He examined her one last time, watching her as she sat still as a statue. She was waiting for him.
"N-," Remus started, but his tongue felt strange and speaking so horribly wrong. A mouth filled with human teeth was strange enough, though he squashed the feeling, banishing it to wherever the monster slept inside. He formed the word slowly, taking the time to form it with his lips: "Na-di-ne."
Nadine barked out a laugh, her teeth bared and small tail swatting leaves in all directions. Remus suddenly remembered that he was nude and his face flooded with blood. He sent his hands to cover himself, sensing that the balverine cared little about what he wore or what he looked like underneath clothes and that his shame was really to blame for her jovial state. Still, he tried his best to hide his modesty and began to look around.
Last he could recall, he was in a cell below ground. Now, the sun warmed his face and the wind whispered in his ears and across skin flecked with goosepimples. Remus tried to remember. He could remember it if he tried. Nadine's fur against his hands. White hot pain. Screaming. Wolves, the scent of blood and wolves, but not wolves. Someone coming. Pain, metal cage bars against his skin, breaking and bruising. A face—Naoya—
"My God," Remus gasped, sitting up and not caring about the pain any longer. His throat was raw from howling, and he pushed just to speak. But the words were desperate: "Naoya—Naoya, my God, Naoya—!"
Stars blared in his vision and Remus doubled over again, but the panic in his throat would not go away. His eyes widened as new, angry tears spilled across his cheeks and cleared away more blood spatter. He couldn't breathe. Each breath was forced as something cold strangled him from within, forcing Remus to gasp in a crumpled heap on the ground. New tears continued to wash away splashes of blood, dropping from his cheeks and onto the leaves with a pink tinge.
"What… happened?" His sentences were painfully short as he winced between words, each breath rocking red lines across his middle. "The—others… what happened? Must—tell me—"
Nadine's ears gave a short twitch and a long, agitated sigh escaped from between her many white fangs.
"Nadine—!" Remus hissed as he lifted himself on to his knees, ignoring the screaming protest coming from his failing body. His face was hard and he tried with all his strength not to fall again. "Tell me," he half yelled. "Tell me!"
But the balverine was silent in the wake of Remus' pleading expression. She held out an arm before her and Remus took it, his shaking legs extending from below him and allowing a very wobbly stance. Now he could see it: a small pack strapped onto her shoulders, and with her other arm Nadine swung it to ground level and clawed it open with graceless fingers.
Remus gasped, astonishment like nothing he had ever felt before rising internally as he slid the only thing left of his old life slowly over his tender arms. His plaid coat, thinner than it was in it's heyday but still sturdy and very warm—it was something he never expected to see again. Though his legs and feet were still bare, it covered as far as parts of his thighs and a small bit of warmth eased the trembling. Still supporting himself on Nadine's arm, Remus sent his other hand sifting through pockets, conducting inventory. "Ah," he tried, "my wand?"
Nadine's ears pressed back as she gave the pouch a quizzical look. Immense claws overturned the bag, shaking it out. A tiny roll of bandages and a small canteen of water smashed into the ground with the force of her throw, but there was no sign of any wand, and even less of any other weapons. Remus cursed.
"Where are the others?" he demanded. "Did they—make it out?"
Nadine nodded.
Remus let his arm fall from hers and for a moment he gave a dangerous wobble as he stood for the first time on his own. "Please take me to them."
Anders' face scrunched into something ugly and determined as he worked. Maker forbid the boy wake up and say something now, after all this time. Lifting the white t-shirt up from Naoya's stomach, Anders checked on the wound that had caused them all so much grief. After multiple sessions of mana as it slowly regenerated, Anders had managed to close the wound after several hours work. But Naoya's skin reflected the blue light from Anders' palm as he whisked magic through the boy's frail body. Even after what was akin to magical surgery, the wound was still saturated with something dark. Where it should have healed to smooth skin, a brutal, ugly scar remained. Naoya had so far been passed out, sleeping off the worst of the pain that Anders tried hard to keep at bay. Anders watched for any sign of labored breathing, Naoya's peaceful face in sharp contrast to the night's events.
Satisfied with the state of the scar, Anders lay back against the cool rock face and watched water drip down in the center of the doorway from somewhere above. The last few hours had all been a blur and part of Anders wondered whether it really happened. But his shoulder was just now finishing the arduous process of drying after carrying a ghost-white, half-dead teen out of the tunnel and into the dawn. Through fits of sparse sleep, Anders could hear himself shouting at Naoya, "Don't you dare bleed out on me!" Screaming the teen's name as he worked his minuscule supply of mana through the painfully slow process of sewing the wound, Anders only calmed down and stopped fighting when Justice came to the surface and forced it. Naoya's life had been saved, but the cost was great. It was the spirit who carried Naoya and walked their shared body to the safety of a rock alcove miles from Reaver's mansion and far from the Oasis only to have it collapse beside the boy from utter exhaustion. It was after dawn when Anders next awoke.
He hadn't been alone in the woods like this for many months, if not years. The passage into Kirkwall required only safe winds to carry a sail, and that journey had seemed desperate at the time. Anders' body ached and his eyes burned, not yet having the excess mana or the will to lick his own wounds. Somewhere far in the distance, he could hear birdsong. Glancing towards his feet, embers from the pitiful firepit he'd managed to build in the small hours were growing cold. Before he even moved, Anders heard his knees and back—his entire body—giving very tempting protests. But they needed the warmth to stay alive. Naoya needed the warmth.
His boots scraped against the rock as he stood, stumbling into the woodland bordering the alcove and gathering an armful of reasonable tinder.
But it was not long before a man and a balverine stumbled forth from the trees.
Nadine smelled them before she saw them, and Remus could only guess when he saw her ears stiffen as though spotting prey. He leaned most of his weight against a sturdy branch he had turned into a makeshift walking stick, testing the ground before he stepped. But it didn't take him long to spot Anders, looking ragged and worse for wear with a bundle of sticks under his arm.
Remus' breathing was heavy as he approached, pushing with as much force as he could muster from his exhausted body. From this distance he could see Anders' skin glowing faintly blue with the electric cracks across his skin. Justice launched upwards as Nadine came close enough to touch him, slamming the dragon-headed staff on the ground between the two men and looking almost feral. But when his eyes widened, the glow faded away to a smooth honey brown.
"Anders," Remus croaked, hoping it were true.
"Maker, I—" Anders started, blinking stupidly from shock. "I thought—we had to leave you! Are you—how did—?" Remus winced as Anders dropped the firewood and wrapped him in a bear hug, for which the mage immediately apologized. He looked the wizard up and down, closing and opening his mouth like a suffocating fish. "I—I thought we might never see you again," he admitted, even as his cheeks reddened when he realized that Remus was nearly nude. Both of the men could see their breath in the chill of the morning air.
"You're covered in blood, Remus," Anders spoke, clearing his throat and regaining control of his objectivity. "You need medical attention."
"Naoya?" was all Remus responded. He followed Anders' gesture to spot the boy on the stone, pale and shivering, but sleeping. Without a word, the wizard limped towards the patient to examine the wound for himself. Remus went even paler. "How bad was it?"
"Does it matter?" Anders replied. "Naoya said you weren't in your right mind when—"
"How bad was it, Anders?" Remus asked again, more forcefully this time. His voice was hoarse, and it broke uncomfortably every now and then with the rasping of his throat. He wasn't looking at the mage but Anders could see him trembling with something that was either exhaustion or rage—or a terrifying mix of both. "What happened?"
Anders came to stand next to Remus, kneeling down beside him. He pressed his palm against Remus' shoulder. "How much do you remember?"
Remus bit his lip to stop the shameful tears he could feel welling up again as his heart pounded ice through veins in lieu of blood. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. "I, uh—a little," he said slowly. "Bits. Pieces. …How—how did it happen?"
"Naoya tried to see if he could talk to you," Anders explained. "He thought he could feel part of your mind somewhere leftover, and theorized that he might somehow reach you. Do you remember?"
"No. You can't—you can't reason with a—" Remus swallowed, unable to say 'werewolf.' It still felt so wrong, so abhorrent and vile—even though the evidence of his lies lay half dead before him. "Did I bite him?"
Anders hesitated. "I don't know."
Remus' breath hissed through his teeth as he covered his face. He stayed like that for a long time. "This is all my fault."
"No." Anders didn't even have to think about it to know how wrong that was."This isn't anyone's fault. We had no idea what would happen."
"I should have told you. I should have told you what I was, so you could have gone without me."
Anders shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. "We would never have gone without you!"
"I doomed you from the start," Remus insisted. "I should never have come with you to begin with. I knew the moon was coming and still I went along with you. And now that you know what I am you would do well to stay as far from me as you can, so that this is never repeated!"
Nadine whined, and both men jumped as they spotted her suddenly between them. Hanging from her mouth was a wrapped bundle. When she dropped it at their feet, it rolled open to reveal a ripped piece of paper with a simple letter A.
"Oh!" Anders gasped. "Alastor send us away with it, though I had forgotten it." He glanced to Nadine. "How did you know—no. No, I don't want to know." His skin crawled as he imagined the balverine eyes surrounding them in the woods again and decided then and there that they couldn't stay here much longer. It was still far too close to the mansion.
Remus sifted through the contents of this last parting gift from the Alpha: a set of clothes, three small loaves of bread and a set of bandages. There was nothing indicating his success one way or the other, and Remus couldn't help but wonder.
"Mm, what'd I miss?" Naoya mumbled exhaustively. The two older men turned, seeing that the psychic had enough strength to lift his head up. Amber eyes flickered between the two of them, his expression shifting to that one of confusion and then flattening out in a sarcastic manner as he observed Remus's lack of clothing. "Nevermind, I don't want to know," he sighed, laying his head back down and once more closing his eyes.
Evening drew in close around them for the first time in almost a week, though none of them had said much since the morning began. Their efforts were put mainly into tending wounds and securing their temporary shelter, especially once Nadine had deemed it fit to return to the Hive. Now they were on their own, with only the small fire for company. Anders had long since fallen asleep, finally able to rest for more than a few minutes at a time. His skin glowed and cracked with the pale blue lights as it did earlier, and it occurred to Remus that Justice must keep watch while Anders slept. Only from the outside, it seemed, for Anders' features were contorted and he occasionally moaned in a disturbed fit.
On opposite sides of the fire, Remus and Naoya sat staring into the embers. Naoya was propped up on as much extra clothing and soft bedding they could provide for him in the wilderness. And Remus sat stiffly in strange hand-me-downs: a green tunic and dark brown trousers accompanied by smaller niceties - underclothes, including socks to go with a pair of black leather shoes. Remus bunched the long sleeves reflexively in and out of his fingers as he watched the fire with pursed lips. He was pale and Naoya thought he looked badly beaten. The bruising under his eye from what he found out was Reaver's cane was a swollen mass of red and purple, and the tip of Remus' nose was scabbed in a way that reminded Naoya exclusively of the werewolf's snout bleeding as it threw itself desperately towards the cage bars. Though he hadn't given them much thought before, in light of the last night's events Naoya studied the silvery scars on Remus' form: two parallel lines from one cheek to the other across his nose, a pair stretching from the corner of his jaw halfway down his throat… None of them were particularly gruesome, and they gave him the appearance of someone who had spent a lot of time outdoors. Though now, knowing what they were from, Naoya couldn't help but imagine fierce claws tearing away the flesh. The way Remus handled himself in combat, Naoya wondered if he hadn't been in some kind of skirmish or a war. When the wizard did move, the psychic couldn't help but notice the severe wincing and spot the many red lines under his clothes when he thought Remus wasn't paying attention.
Naoya frowned. There was something about the quietness of the forest that was just as deafening as the noise of the city. Quiet wasn't good; quiet was dangerous. If Naoya knew anything about quiet, it meant that a fight was coming. He wanted to sleep, and he blinked back the weight of his eyelids. But he wouldn't let himself rest. Naoya had a fifteen minute power-nap, loosely, and was once again up.
He was getting anxious and jittery again, and he needed a goddamn smoke. But he was going to run out of cigarettes eventually. Trying to conserve had only made things worse. Maybe he could smoke half of one. It was a compromise. Fishing around in his jacket pocket, Naoya's hands touched dry blood as he slid one from his pack and stuck the end in his mouth; the end coming to a soft glow with a quick, short snap from his powers. He leaned back, feeling the end of something long and very thin press against his leg. "Oh yeah," he said, and he tried not to make a face as he twisted his middle to get it. "This is yours. It was stuffed in my shoe after Reaver drugged us."
Remus did not hide his surprise. He came and sat beside Naoya, taking his wand from the boy with wide eyes. "Oh, my God," he gasped in disbelief. "I was wondering what happened to this! I thought it lost in the mansion, though I-I had hoped - well," he cleared his throat, "nothing went like it was supposed to. I, ah… I suppose I'm just glad to have it back." He turned away from Naoya, half contemplating whether he should return to the other side of the camp. But after a moment, he looked back. "Are you… alright?" Just off to his left, Anders was still asleep, and so he kept his voice low. "If you're in pain, please tell me. I may not be as skilled a healer as Anders, but this is-" he hesitated at the words, 'my fault' "-something I know how to deal with."
Amber eyes flicked to fall on Remus, and Naoya stared for a moment while he tried to process the question. Briefly he placed his hand against his jacket, feeling the bandages wrapped around his bony frame tighten with his breathing. It did hurt. But pain was something he could live with. Remus was feeling guilty, and Naoya didn't need to use his empathic abilities to tell that. "I'll live," he flashed a quick smile, exhaustively reassuring. "It's not the first time I've been banged up." It also wasn't the first time he had almost bled to death on the ground, but he pushed that memory back as much as he could. He glanced to the side and shrugged, blowing out another breath of smoke. "And besides, it was an accident."
Remus averted his gaze, taking a long breath and forcing something tacky down his throat. "If you need anything, I want you to tell me," he stressed, trying to sound sincere rather than about to vomit. He started to say something again, and then stopped. Speaking candidly about this was not something he ever liked. The words took great effort to form. "These wounds are… difficult."
Cursed, if he were to be perfectly honest. They would never heal properly. Never. Even if he hadn't been infected, and Merlin banish the thought—whatever foul magic was behind this illness was left in everything it touched. Just from the boy's complexion, he could tell Naoya was in pain. Naturally so: the nature of the wounds would simmer under the bandages like a poison, even if they had already healed most of the way. And Remus would know. A heavy, tense sigh escaped him and he rubbed the back of his neck out of reflex. For a moment, he didn't speak. Emotions raced through him faster than he could process them, and after the fight earlier, he realized he was not prepared to deal with them again so soon. But Naoya was looking at him, and at a loss for words, he said the first thing he could think to say: "I can fix your coat if you like."
Naoya held up the bloodied fabric with a curious expression, handing it to Remus who turned to lay it out flat across the ground. He cleared his throat, holding his wand over the defeated mess. "Scourgify!"
A froth of bubbles erupted from the tip of Remus' wand to splatter over the entirety of the jacket. It quivered and hissed like acid on a cut and for half a second Naoya's eyes widened as he contemplated having half of his jacket turn white with some sort of magic bleach. But when Remus's expression changed little, he bit his lip and watched his favorite coat go on the mend. He was silent as Remus transfigured a pebble into a needle and drew black thread from the wand, sewing up the stitching tenderly by hand. By now night had fallen completely, and the firelight was the only thing allowing the work to progress.
"I could do it by magic," he explained without looking up, "but I find some strange peace in doing it by hand. And, the stitching is a bit stronger." After a little while, the bubbles fizzled out into nothing and Remus broke the thread away with his teeth, examining his finished product. "How is this?" He held it out to Naoya for final inspection.
Naoya gingerly took his jacket, turning it over in his hands. It was clean, and Remus had done a fine job of repairing the rip from the night before. "Not bad," the psychic admitted. He forced himself to sit up and slowly - stiffly - slid his jacket on. "Thanks."
"Welcome," said Remus. "You learn a lot when you have to sew your own clothes." He gave a drab glance at his new attire, wrapping his coat tighter around him.
After a moment spent studying Remus, Naoya blew out his last breath of smoke before extinguishing what was left of his cigarette on the stone beside him. "You didn't bite me, you know," Naoya said. He kept his eyes right on Remus; the wizard might have wanted to look away, but Naoya wasn't going to let him go that easily. "This is a wound from some claws, that's all. And even if you did bite me, I wouldn't turn." Something in his expression softened as he kept trying to reassure Remus. "Werewolves can only turn humans."
Remus grew stiff and his face hard. An odd shudder passed through his body. "You don't know that."
"There are werewolves where I come from," the psychic replied. "Maybe not exactly like you, but they can only turn humans."
With patient force, Remus made sure to take a deep, heart-calming breath before addressing Naoya again. "And what happens if we find out that that is not true? What if that wound is a bite, and what if you have been turned?"
Naoya shrugged. "Then we deal with it."
At this, Remus rose to his feet, his hands tugging at fistfuls of brown hair. He wanted to curse, to scream in panic and despair, but all he could control were his feet and he paced back and forth, back and forth, as though every other step he met a wall and was forced to turn around. His face was drained of color and he became more agitated with every limping step.
"You don't understand," he began after a few minutes hesitation. "You don't understand what this might mean! You don't understand what I've done to you! Neither of you understand why you should have left me behind. And now this - this! Oh," Remus paced, dragging his hands down his face, his tone a mixture of anguish and rage, "this should never have happened. This is my fault! I should have done something. I should have given in to Reaver. He would have spared you, let you go perhaps - Alastor was supposed to keep you safe!"
"He did," Naoya urged, rising into a fully upright sitting position. "And Reaver tried to shoot us anyway! You did the best you could for us. So stop blaming yourself for something that's not your fault!"
Remus snorted, a bitter and angry noise. "No. I never told you what I was. I lied to you. You would never have come looking for me if I had—"
"Stop!" Naoya winced, but he fought through his pain and stood on his own. "Stop, okay? Things didn't go like they planned. They never do! We all did the best we could. I don't think Alastor would have had anything to do with us if it weren't for you, so stop blaming yourself when we both know you had no control! It wasn't you, you weren't yourself! Accidents happen!"
Remus stopped, staring at Naoya. A hundred emotions ran across his face at once and salted tears dug into the cuts and scrapes as he wiped them away. "It was no accident. I failed to keep myself secure. My kind are vicious. Nothing will stop a werewolf, their aggression and singular focus on infecting humans is unparalleled! I was very young when I received the bite that turned me, far too young to understand. I used to imagine that he regretted what he had done, but now I know better! I have done everything in my power to make sure that I never followed in his footsteps. But what I have done to you, even by pure accident, is unforgivable!"
Naoya shook his head, ready to point out that Remus's argument was doing nothing to convince him he was right. But when he opened his mouth, someone else's voice resounded instead.
"What are you doing?" Both of them turned to find Anders waiting expectantly, having long been awoken by their fight. "What's going on?"
"Remus was just explaining why he wants to leave," Naoya responded, shrugging his shoulders again as Remus rounded on him. "What? Psychic, remember?"
Remus pressed his fingers into his palms, forcing his arms down at his sides. He would have preferred not to have this conversation at all, and yet now there was no avoiding it. He may as well be honest.
"Yes, I'm leaving," he said slowly, turning only halfway to meet Anders' gaze. "I've already decided."
"You can't," Anders replied, his voice calm but soaked in warning. "Remus, we need you."
Remus frowned. He finished turning, properly facing Anders now. "I should think that after what happened, it would be very clear that I am the last thing either of you need."
"This is about what happened to Naoya," Anders said, standing. "Isn't it?"
"Anders, don't." Remus' fingers gave an idle twitch at his sides. "I could have killed someone. That was far too dangerous to be allowed to happen again!"
"None of that was your fault! I think it was an accident-completely justifiable given the circumstances we were all in! And," Anders added, "you made sure that we were safe in the end. Whatever we need to do, Remus, we will find a way!"
"I don't see how," said Remus. His arm swung out beside him as he indicated the forest at large. "We have no allies, we have no shelter… What are we going to do next month, chain me up to tree and hope for the best? Do you even realize what sort of danger you put yourselves in just being with me?"
"We will find something!" Anders said loudly, slowly. "I can - glyphs, maybe, for paralysis or sleep! There has to be a way. We can talk about this!"
Remus shook his head. "You realize you're suggesting something unprecedented and untested? No. I was behind bars in a cage made for the balverines and still managed to attack an innocent boy. This is the right thing to do, Anders, and you know it!"
Anders crossed his arms, taking a long, hard look at Remus. "Take it from someone possessed by a spirit of justice: this isn't what's right, Remus. Perhaps it looks that way to you, but you're wrong."
"I almost killed the boy, Anders. And next month, what happens when we have nowhere to go?" He glared at Anders, acutely aware that the blue of his robes was still coated with Naoya's blood. "I'm protecting you!"
Anders shook his head. "You're a coward who's running away."
Remus turned a visible shade of red. "How dare you? You don't understand, Anders - you don't know how the world sees people like me! Once they know what I am, they can't even look at me! Don't you see what I've done to Naoya, to the both of you? The danger I put you in just by being in your presence is unimaginable, and I will not risk pass on my affliction just so that we can stay together as a group! How can I forgive myself? You don't-"
"I don't what?" Anders stormed close to Remus now, and his voice rose with each step he took. "Don't know what it's like to be feared, just for what I am? I am hated just for being born, Remus-they locked me away in a tower without ever knowing my name and left me to rot in the name of public safety. A child! Just for being born with magic! I know all too well what it's like to be something everyone loathes, and I never walk free of that fact! And now, fused with Justice, even my so-called people would execute us both as soon as learn of what we are: an Abomination, something the Maker himself cannot forgive! I understand, Remus: you are afraid. You are afraid of yourself, you're afraid of the future and what might happen. But we need you, here! Naoya needs you more than anyone, and if you leave him now you're no better than the werewolf who bit you when you were young! We still don't know how bad his wound is-and if he's been turned, Remus, he's going to need you. Not just because you're a werewolf, but because you're his friend and you have a responsibility to him to see him through whatever comes!"
Naoya watched on, frowning as he felt his stomach drop at Anders's rant. He held a hand to his side, shifting his weight on his feet. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to mentally reach out to both of them - it was difficult with the emotions they were throwing around, and he softly grunted from the effort. Opening that can of worms would have to wait.
Anders' eyes were still brown, but his skin crackled threateningly with blue and white light. Even his voice had begun to change for the smallest of seconds, and to Remus it seemed that rage visibly burned inside of him. "Remus," Anders finished, breathing deeply enough for the lightning to fade, "don't do this. We don't care what you are! When I told you about my merging with Justice, I expected the worst. I expected you to think me a monster. But you did the opposite - you embraced it. You didn't care! Whatever we must do, Remus, we will work through the challenges! We will figure it out! But if you leave now, you are throwing all of that away. Don't do this, Remus. You're a good man, and I can't think of anyone I would rather travel through this realm with. Please, don't do this!"
The wizard and the mage stared at each other for a minute, uncertainty hanging in the air between them, before the psychic wandered over to the two of them and wrapped his arms around both their waists - pulling them into an awkward group hug. "Stop," Naoya said, looking up at them. "Just stop. Naoya thinks there's been enough of this." He gave them both a little squeeze. "And don't try pulling away from Naoya, or else you'll open his wound back up and we just got it to stop."
Anders looked to Naoya and then back to Remus, a stupid grin starting to working his still pink face despite his better nerve. Half surprised and half amused, he muttered something about "this is silly," causing Remus to burst out with sudden, wet laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. Anders' grin only broadened, and suddenly neither of the men were fighting the embrace. Instead, the both of them laughed.
Somehow, they each knew then that everything would be all right. They could make it.
The following morning, most everything had returned to a state of relative calm. But perhaps hinting of an unknown turbulence, the sky was laden with flocks of dark, swollen clouds and Anders thought it would be just their luck to get caught in a storm before they had found a suitable shelter. The mage swatted at a mosquito touching down at the nape of his neck, and part of him wanted to set the whole forest on fire.
But then, that's where they were headed. He didn't need to set someone else's blaze.
"No," he replied sourly, examining the mush that had once been an insect on his finger before wiping it on his robes. Remus had cleaned them as well, and Anders found the sensation of something clean against his skin rather odd after living for months in the sewers below Kirkwall. "No, Reaver took the map when he searched me. He was a fool not to take my dagger as well, but I never considered that man well off from the start."
Remus made a noise of agreement. His hands were wrapped around the metal canteen from Nadine, a layer of cloth between his skin and the contents made to boil with a tap of his wand. It wasn't tea, but Remus said that he'd learned to get some of the same comfort from a simple cup of warm water while living like a vagabond. Anders didn't question it. Overnight, and with some decent sleep, all three of them had begun to gain back some color and even began talking again as they had before. He wouldn't question anything that might help them recover faster.
"I don't think it would be wise to wait for the next fire," Remus said after a long drink. "Not that Alastor is going to fail in his endeavor to retake the Oasis, but Reaver is…"
Ruthless? Cunning? Pitiless, merciless, unyielding? Anders could think of a thousand and one perfectly good adjectives to describe the Lord Reaver, and a thousand and one more that were infinitely less kind. "No," he nodded. "You're right. We don't have time to wait. Even if it were not an urgent thing to find them, we're not doing well for ourselves out here if we stay."
"And we kind of have no good place to go," Naoya added, holding his stomach.
"How do we find them without a map?" asked Remus.
Anders pushed the butt of his staff against the embers in the fire, willing them to breathe and burn a little hotter. Then, he had an idea. He stood, brushing the front of his robes and placing his staff against the log he'd fashioned into a seat. He headed into the woods, snapping a twig and returning into the outcrop only to place it into the fire. But when Anders pulled it out again, it was covered with a light coating of ashes.
"Right," he said, twisting his lips as he worked. He threw a splash of grey and black onto the stone floor. "This is the mansion." With a swipe of the twig, Anders drew a small triangle that pointed towards Naoya's knees, and filled in the empty space between them with a vague gesture of his hands. "Imagine this is the forest, right? This—", he indicated the point, "is the mountain range we saw from the gardens. If we can use the peaks as a guide, maybe we can navigate roughly to where we need to go."
"Brilliant!" Remus pushed himself up from his knees, coming to stand beside the mage. "Excellent. That should be much easier than trying to find north again. But through the canopy, it's impossible to spot anything clearly."
"And the clouds," said Naoya. "I don't really want to get rained on. Maybe somebody should climb a tree."
All three men looked at one another.
"Not it!" Naoya immediately sounded. That left the mage and the wizard.
"I'll do it," Remus offered.
"No." Anders put his hands up. "You both need more rest than I do. My leg has already healed fairly well, and I've gotten plenty of sleep. Plus," he added, "my boots are made for sturdy work."
"And you've got the feathers in case you fall," whispered Naoya from behind his hands. Remus tried hard not to crack a small smile.
Anders pretended not to have heard the comment, but his hands reflexively brushed the grit from his feathered pauldrons nonetheless. Even though they too had been touched up gently, dust swirled around Anders' nose and he noticed the residual smell of dog. How he missed the company of a friendly, purring cat. "Don't wander off," he joked half-seriously, turning and hiking back the way Justice had taken them before discovering the overhang.
Is there a path? he asked mentally, and images of the escape through the dark were replayed in response. They were familiar but totally foreign in a way Anders could not describe: they were memories seen with his own eyes, but ones he did not entirely possess on his own. He himself barely remembered the journey from Reaver's escape tunnel, and could not accurately pin down the point at which the alpha balverine had stayed behind. There was a chance that Alastor didn't know whether Naoya had survived, if the alpha even cared one way or another.
A break in the trees lead up to the top of the rock face they camped under. Birch trees gave his skin a patchwork of honey yellow as light passed through their leaves when not obscured by fat clouds, and Anders pressed his heels carefully into the fallen debris to try and at least minimize the noises he was making. He enjoyed the birdsong, perhaps because it was peaceful but perhaps due to the absence of it in the Circle. Nests would be built by the windows sometimes, but there weren't many windows in the Tower and Templars would push the small things off the sides, chicks and all, in the name of "maintenance". It was never more than a temporary comfort to the mages locked inside, and Anders took a liking to the sounds of nature even if he didn't care for some of nature itself. When he reached the summit of the rock face, Anders let his hands rest against the rough bark of an old oak tree. Strange, though: the birds themselves were not alive—or at least, they did not have an aura Anders could detect when he threw out his mind. He did, and so did Remus and Naoya, as well as each of their ridiculous plant trails. His footprints were little spots of life like tracks in fresh snow. But the trees were alive as well, and Anders imagined he could feel sap pulsing through the veins of the massive trunk as he pressed his skin into it's outer bark. Gazing up the length for a handhold, Anders spotted a delicate vine twisting around the perimeter of the trunk as it decorated the tree with flowers that looked so much like white lilies. It was a beautiful sight.
And, with luck, it would be thick enough to help hold his weight. Anders grasped the twisting, rope-like body in his palms and gave a great tug. A few leaves and some bark were loosened and fell scattered around his feet, but for the most part everything seemed sturdy enough. The vine itself had barely moved. And so Anders pressed himself to the trunk, nearly hugging the massive tree, and put his boots against one of the vines. Then, he gave it all his weight. It held. And so the mage climbed skyward, muttering futile complaints to himself to keep his eyes forward instead of down. Maker, he didn't want to begin considering getting down. Anders let out a tentative laugh, cursing himself for doing these things. But as he crested the highest limb, his voice suddenly failed him.
The view was breathtaking. The rock face was one of many erratic masses, like the scattered crumbs of some unimaginably large piece of earth crumbled by a giant in the clouds. Some of them had water pooled on top, creating small waterfalls of unknown origin that drew in hundreds of birds and other fauna. The forest went on forever, turning the horizon a spectacular shade of green as late spring drew the last bits of grey from the land. Every now and again, one tree stood above the others, a massive giant of it's kind. Great vines thicker than the tree Anders stood from draped from boughs praising the sun high above the rest of the trees, soaking in the light. Anders spotted a flock of the wretched reptile-beasts far in the distance, making a note to stay far away from them. And far to the northwest, the great wall of mountains and their only true marker stood guard over the valley below. The snow-capped peaks bowed to nothing, pushing even the weather to their whims and beckoning the clouds around them to drape them in a cloak of mist. Anders turned back, seeking any sign of Reaver's mansion and how far they had come. But the forest consumed all signs of the mansion, all signs of the Oasis, and there was nothing to be seen one way or the other as far as Alastor's success.
A light brought Anders' attention back over the valley, and at first he thought that it was lighting. But he couldn't see any thunderheads anywhere near them, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. This is the energy from the vortex, Justice warned, and Anders took a quick step back, torn between his fears of falling and his fear of the light that had stolen him from Thedas in the first place. The trees began to stir, the leaves a hissing wave of noise that could not drown the strange whispering that drew Anders' eyes up, down, and every which way—
More lightning, and suddenly it appeared: a white mass, pale inky tendrils seeking out fresh paths to carve in the open air above the trees. Bleeding out of the center, they were fingers of voices that soaked the air with an electric energy that brought the stench of ozone on the wind. In the center, Anders thought he could see more trees: massive redwoods, a sunset forest thick with chaos ripping the trees on the other side. Red and orange, flames had begun engulfing them and obscured anything distant from view. And then a shape—small, very small—was thrown from the vortex and into the woods, a faint scream ripping through the chaos.
And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The white tendrils faded out like ancient smoke into nothing, and the portal between worlds vanished in silence.
But someone had fallen into this world, just as Anders and the others had. Someone they had to find.
Anders climbed down as fast as his limbs would carry him, half running and half screaming down the embankment to the alcove in a flurry of excitement and fascination. And in hardly any time at all, the alcove was abandoned as the group set out to find the newcomer. The forest was as thick as before, but the trio pushed boldly through the concentrated woods. They scanned the trees for any sign of the reptiles, but nothing outside of birds or the occasional deer seemed interested in them today, a fact for which they were thankful.
"This way," said Remus, holding his wand out in the palm of his hand. It spun loosely for a moment before pinning down a spot in the direction Anders had described, leading them to follow a single path.
"Are you sure it was a person?" Naoya asked. In the effort to keep up he had lost some color, but as yet he hadn't complained about any pain.
"Yes, I think so," Anders returned. "We should hurry."
The greater part of an hour passed before they reached the spot Anders described, and it was not hard to miss. The forest looked as though a micro-burst had exploded into being in a circle of trees no wider than a house. Cracked branches hung like severed arms and the air had a residual electric pulse to it that Anders hadn't noticed before. In the center of the new clearing, a violently yellow shrub stood like a spout of fire in the wake of the destruction. And little, much younger shrubs trailed off in a line away from the largest plant of them all.
A plant trail. Remus' eyes shot to the wolfsbane around his shoes before he turned. "Hello?"
But there was no answer.
"Hello!" Anders tried next.
Still, nothing.
Naoya finally caught up to the older men, but unlike them he walked to the center of the clearing. He paused in front of the flowering yellow bush, his hand going to his bandaged side as he took a moment to catch his breath - his fingers playing idly with the white fabric of his shirt over his wrappings. Eyes narrowing, he tried to sift through the feeling he got from the portal's residual energy, their own excitement and mild fear, and whoever it was that had fallen. He suddenly pointed with a slender finger towards a fallen tree, towards the small opening underneath the pillow of roots. "In there," Naoya said, making a point to say it softly. "She's scared. And injured."
Coming closer, it was obvious that the person they were looking for was a child - after all, the space wasn't big enough for anyone else to fit. A soft sniffling could be heard, someone trying to stifle their sobbing. Upon looking inside the space under the tree, they found the source: a girl with long brown hair, messy from her descent; dressed in an over-sized pink sweater with a picture of shooting star on the front, a simple lavender skirt, and black flat shoes. She was curled up as far back as she could get in the hole, clutching her left arm and staring out at them with wide, wet eyes. She couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen.
Remus came to kneel beside Naoya, feeling the wolfsbane beginning to sprout under his knuckles as he pressed his weight into the soil. "Hello there," he said calmly, forcing his words to be slow and patient.
But he didn't expect the handful of dirt flung at his face, and he jerked back with a sputtering expression as his sleeves shot to his face to wipe the grit from his eyes.
Anders tried next, holding his arm near his face in anticipation. "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you. We're here to help!"
With a gasp, Anders ducked as the next handful of dirt grazed the top of his head, embedding itself in his hair. He growled, pulling the ribbon from his hair and running his fingers through golden locks. "I don't understand why she's not coming out."
"That's because we're in the middle of the woods and you guys are strangers," Naoya stated in a haughty but hushed tone, stepping between the two of them. "Young injured girls don't go running off with strange men in the woods."
"As though you could do better?" Anders snorted, but he regretted saying anything when Naoya's only reply was to flip his hair and saddle Anders with a self-assured look.
"Have you ever spoken to a little girl before, either of you?" Naoya put a hand on his hip and shook his head. "No? Okay. Leave this to Naoya." He pushed them aside, walking over to the opening and bending over to peer inside. "Hi there," he smiled.
But the little girl only sniffled and threw another handful of dirt, which fell short of hitting Naoya.
"I'm Naoya," Naoya said. He gingerly lowered himself so that he was sitting on the ground in front of the hole, his back resting against some of the exposed roots. "I like your sweater. What's your name?"
She stared at him, wary but curious. "Mabel," the little girl said, her voice nasally from crying.
"Mabel, huh?"
"Uh-huh." Mabel wiped her face an over-sized pink sleeve.
"Are you okay, Mabel? That arm looks like it really, really hurts, and this guy here is, like, totally a doctor." Again, she only stared at him, holding her injured arm. He let out a small chuckle, motioning back at Remus and Anders with his head. "Don't worry, no one out here bites. Promise. We saw you fall and we just want to help."
Anders was still pulling his hair back into the half-pony, so Remus nodded for him. "Yes, it's true. Look here:" Remus shifted, allowing her to see his own plant trail for herself. "We fell through just the same as you. We have plants, just the same as you do. We just want to help you."
"You're hurt," said Anders, finally ready to try again. "Is it alright if I come a bit closer? I'm a doctor."
When she only pressed back further into the hole again, Naoya turned to look at them both, slowly lowering a hand down in the air - out of view of Mabel. His eyebrows were perked and his expression clearly said you're coming on too strong. When they backed up a few steps, he turned back to Mabel with a small, sunny smile. "You don't have to come out," he started, "But do you want to see something cool?"
He picked a small yellow flower from her plant trail and held it in his outstretched hand. With some help from his telekinesis, it slowly began to float towards Mabel - spinning in the air - where it gently settled on the ground in front of her foot.
"How did you do that?" Mabel asked, awed.
"It's a secret," Naoya winked and smiled. "But I'll tell you if you let Andy take a look at your arm. You don't have to come all the way out if you don't want to, just as far as me."
She hesitated before she shifted and gingerly crawled towards Naoya, keeping her hurt arm cradled against her chest, stopping just as far as he had offered. "I don't think it's broken," Mabel said, again wiping her face on her opposite sleeve. She settled onto her knees, looking away from them.
Anders waited for Naoya's approving glance before kneeling closer. Rocks disturbed from the soil by the uprooting of the tree pressed painfully into his knees for a brief moment before the cushion of moss took away any hint of the rough ground that had been there before. "Mabel," he said quietly, "I'm going to touch your arm now. I want you to tell me if it hurts too much, okay?"
He saw Mabel give a weak nod, glancing between him and Naoya and then back to her arm. Anders let his fingers drape carefully around her sleeve, careful not to apply any pressure as he slid back the soft fabric to check for any visible injury. She was warm and trembled violently, her face cherry red as a little sniffle fought back the wetness oozing from her nose as she cried. "May I?"
"Ow, ow, ow, ow…" Tiny whimpers escaped her as Anders extended her arm at the elbow, allowing him to push her sleeve up the rest of the way. But she shook her head when he asked her if it was too much, and so he continued. There was a lot of dirt around her elbow and shoulders, and the skin of her forearm was pulsing with an angry red that was slowly turning purple.
"You landed on your arm," Anders said, and Mabel didn't have to nod this time. Tears welled up in her eyes and she started to cry again, and Naoya gently took her other hand.
"You're okay, Mabel," he said, and Anders watched him study her face as he tried to calm her. There was more than sympathy in his eyes. Anders didn't understand Naoya's abilities, but that didn't stop him from wondering if the teen was actually able to sense her pain, to experience her emotions. Naoya's expression was soft and soothing, but there was a tension in his body that spoke of something more. Anders was glad to have him assisting.
Anders took a breath to center himself and drew his mana to his fingers, and Naoya glanced over at his palms as they began to glow a peaceful blue color and smiled again.
"Hey," the psychic said, squeezing Mabel's hand. "Want to see something else cool?"
Together, the two of them watched as Anders set his palms over her arm, and Mabel flinched.
"It's warm," she said, but she didn't draw away. "It tingles." The new bruising blooming across her skin was halted and then made to recede, drying up before it could even begin to grow. There was no pain, though a small crack and tug in her elbow made the girl wince a bit as her joint was loosened and all the stiffness suddenly released.
When Anders finally finished, he pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing away the beginnings of a tension headache. Andraste's flaming knickers, why was healing magic always so taxing? "How does that feel?" he asked.
Mabel twisted her arm about in the air, turning it back and forth and drawing it to her. She flexed every which way, now wiping away the last of her tears with this arm instead of the other. "Better," she admitted, drawing both her arms over her chest and sinking into herself. She was still scared, still confused, and no one could blame her for that. She brushed a long brown bang behind her ear. "So… was that magic?"
"Yeah, Andy," Naoya echoed her question, grinning and elbowing the mage lightly. "Was it?"
Mabel quickly caught on, and she gasped as her eyes lit up with excitement. "It was, wasn't it!"
"Mhmm," Anders nodded, once again taken slightly aback by such a positive response. But part of him was very pleased, and even a little proud. He conjured up a small flame in his palms, his face tugging into a tiny smile when he saw Mabel's awe. "Remus and I are mages," he said. "We can do a lot more than this, too. Would you like to come with us? We don't have much, but we can protect you. You don't have to be all alone out here."
Mabel nodded, timidly and with eyes big and wet and uncertain. But Naoya took her hand with the biggest smile he could muster, pointing to the clover that lead back the way they had come. "It's a little ways away, but I think we can manage before dinnertime."
The alcove didn't seem so small when it was just the three of them, Remus thought to himself. But then, maybe it was better this way: more reason for them to get out. They had no intentions to stay, of course they didn't. But bringing a twelve-year-old girl back to their rock shelter was not exactly something anyone was proud of, even if Mabel didn't seem to mind what was essentially no shelter at all. It was certainly better than the roots of a dead tree, and they did have fresh water. But now it wasn't just about the three of them. Now it was about protecting someone wholly innocent in this. Someone who had no idea about Justice, or werewolves, or EGO…
Someone who… well, perhaps that was a thought chain that was best left untouched.
Remus sighed into his cup, transfigured from some of the many fallen stones from the cliffside. Each of them had one, and they nursed the mint tea they managed to brew with leaves clipped from a happy find on their return trip. The small firepit in the center of the alcove now burned steadily with the aid of a little magic, turning different colors at the girl's request as she watched it happily. The smell from the set of large, blue eggs the size of fists cooking over heated stones was savory-though, none of them could describe just what animal they had come from, and to admit they were eager to dig in would be deceptive. But as four sets of eyes focused on simmering yolks, the growling they heard did not come from the forest.
"There you are," Anders murmured, handing out "plates" to each person, one serving of unknown protein each. He took his seat next to Remus.
None of them moved to enjoy their strange meal very fast.
"Well, tuck in before they go cold," Remus half shrugged, his brow arched.
Anders made a face down at his food before trying a tentative sample. "I still don't miss that mansion," he soured.
"Mansion?" Mabel asked. She had a section of egg white clasped between her fingers, and slurped it up. She spoke through her food: "You guys stayed in a mansion?"
"That's a long story," Naoya replied. He sat with his legs crossed, his plate resting on his knee. He hadn't yet touched his share. "Maybe later." He smiled and winked at her, and she flashed a mouthful of metal as she smiled at him.
Anders's brows kneaded. "I've been meaning to ask you, Mabel. What's on your teeth?"
"What, my braces," She blinked a few times, then pointed to her teeth. "You don't know what braces are?"
Naoya prodded the egg on his plate carefully. "He doesn't know what a toilet is, either."
"Pfft, what?" Mabel laughed.
"They don't have them where I come from!" Anders defensively stated.
"And where's that?"
There was a silence that came after Mabel's question as the three men looked at one another.
"I'm from a place called Fereldan," Anders explained. "Though I lived in a city called Kirkwall before I came here. Where are you from, Mabel?"
"I'm staying with my Great Uncle Stan in Oregon. I call him my Grunkle," she replied. "But my parents live in California."
"Oh, you're American?" Remus asked.
"Yup!" Mabel nodded. "Are you from England?Across the pond?" she added, pretending to hold a cup of tea in the most prim and proper manner with a poorly emulated British accent.
Naoya giggled openly, but Remus remained straight-faced. "That's right."
"What about you?" Mabel asked, turning to Naoya sitting beside her.
"I'm from Tokyo," he smiled, giving her a small peace sign with a little wink in tow. He took his cell phone from his pocket, frowning at the dangerously low battery. At least he could do this last thing before it died.
"That makes you the odd man out, Andy," Naoya said, putting a thumb to his chin seriously. "Looks like we're all from copies of the same place."
"Not necessarily," Remus said. "There are things about you that I don't understand, Naoya."
"Like what?"
"Like whatever that is in your hands."
"What… this?" Naoya looked to his cell phone, his brow furrowed so that he almost seemed cross-eyed as he looked at it. "It's a mobile phone. Don't they have, like, phones where you come from?" Remus seemed more modern than Anders did. Naoya hoped he was, at any rate. Naoya didn't know how to explain what a phone was to someone.
"That's a phone? It doesn't have a cord!" Remus visualized the image of the red public call boxes used to access the Ministry of Magic in London - which, for something new to the Magical community, seemed extremely primitive in comparison. "We have phones where I come from," Remus confirmed, "but they are a rather uncommon sight - at least, in the Magical community. Wizards prefer communicating the traditional way: Owl Post. The Muggles - the non-Magic folk - are the ones using all sorts of complex technology, and most wizards don't pay any mind to it unless they need to." Remus paused, pondering how to explain further. "The Magical community prefers to keep to itself, you see. I've only used a phone once or twice before, but I daresay even Muggles would be fascinated by that device in your hand."
The teenager narrowed his eyes, lips pouting in thought. "That kind of sounds similar to the magic-users from my world," he said, "preferring to keep to themselves and unfamiliar with technology." He cracked a troublemaker's grin. "Bunch of old farts that can't keep up with the times."
He turned the phone so that the screen faced Remus. The background was a lavender four-pointed star enclosed in a golden circle, the symbol of the future-seeking compass, standard on all Organization-issued phones. He wasn't sure if Remus could read his language, so he decided to go on: "It can do a lot more than make a phone call. Store phone numbers, take pictures, play music, record video, send email…" Naoya stopped, then added: "That last one is like owls?" His voice inflected upwards, not sure. Was that a good explanation? "Um, like, just curious. What year is it where you're from?" Explaining a phone was hard enough, but the internet were going to be impossible to explain.
Remus paused, letting this knowledge sink in. That tiny little device, something that fit into the palm of his hand, could do all of those things? He almost didn't believe it, but the Japanese characters on the strange, tiny screen seemed to challenge his notion of normal. He thought of his record player, back home. It was probably still sitting in his father's study where he'd left it years ago, collecting dust beside an old Abbey Road vinyl. To think he could have that in his pocket! Remus found himself astounded, and resisted the urge to reach out for the thing for a closer look.
"It's 1985," Remus replied, catching Naoya's eye. "Though not for you, I take it?" He wanted to laugh, but ended up grinning, practically embarrassed. Merlin, this was weird.
"19… 1985!" Naoya exclaimed. "Well that explains a lot."
"What is that supposed to—"
The sound of Mabel giggling broke their conversation. "It's 2012 where we're from, right, Naoya-" But she stopped when she saw the confusion on Naoya's face. "Right?"
Naoya swallowed. "Uh, well," he started, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "It's 2004 for me."
"How long are your Ages?" Anders asked, very confused and trying to make sense of half of what he was hearing.
"Uh," Naoya began, but when nobody else could give an answer, he was forced to finish. "What's an 'Age'?"
"…100 years," Anders frowned. "This is the Dragon Age, the last one was the Blessed Age. It's 9:31 Dragon right now."
The other three looked at him, and Anders felt his ears burn.
"Okay, okay," Mabel waved her hands, trying to figure it all out. "Dragon year-time and magic-" she pointed at Anders "-and 1985 retro magic-" then Remus "-then post millennium 2004 magic?" she finished with Naoya.
Naoya huffed. "Not magic."
"Then what?"
"A monkey," Anders smirked, throwing a vengeful, satisfied smile Naoya's way.
Naoya fixed Anders with an unamused look. "Mabel, I'm not exactly the same as you are," he explained. "Remus and Andy are both fully human, like you are. I'm not." He scratched the back of his head, looking away from the three of them, realizing he had never really explained it before. "My people are called the EGO, we're all psychics."
"Psychic?" Mabel followed up, her shoulders sinking while Naoya nodded to the term. "The last 'psychic' I knew was a little creep who wouldn't leave me alone." She frowned, looking down at her shoes. "He was also a fake."
Naoya blinked a few times, staving off an offended expression while ignoring the throaty chuckle that came from Anders. "Fake? Naoya Itsuki is no fake," he sassily spat, wagging a finger.
"I think Naoya is something, but 'fake' isn't quite the word I would use," Anders added, grin in full force.
"His powers are entirely real," Remus added. He quietly sipped his tea, green eyes sparking with some amusement as he watched them.
Mabel rubbed her chin, skeptical. "Okay. Tell me what I'm thinking."
"Something about trying to be tricky," Naoya stated, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't do telepathy."
"But you did mind-move stuff earlier," Mabel deflated.
"Yep," Naoya chirped. "That's telekinesis."
"Why not mind-reading stuff?"
"EGO are all born with a certain set of abilities. We get stronger with them as we get older, but our powers stay the same set our whole lives," he explained, biting his cheek at the memory of what happened when power was too much, too soon. "I wasn't born with telepathy. Just good looks and some telekinesis." He smirked.
"And only one of those things is true," Anders muttered to himself, though he caught the corners of Remus' mouth twitch upwards.
Mabel must have caught the smile too, because she looked over at him. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing," Remus sputtered, but then he gave a small sigh and allowed himself to truly smile. "I just think—well, I find it rather astonishing what we've accomplished," he said, "given that we evidently know barely anything about one another."
Anders and Naoya looked at one another as they let the words settle over them.
"We'll rectify that," Anders said, finally taking his own mug in hand and taking a hearty drink. "I think we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."
He held out his mug: "To whatever comes next."
The three cups clattered together, followed by a fourth. "To whatever comes next!"
"… Just so you know, this cup-thing is, like, really cheesy and Naoya is only doing this out of peer pressure."