Unholy Order

By: GOD! Nah, just me, Magenta Fox

Chapter 6: Chances

A/N: Whew, already on Ch 6. Well, I'm glad that people are actually reading this. I was really worried I wouldn't have a single reader. Thanks to all who reviewed, and all who will review. There just isn't enough Arc the Lad fan fiction out there. I mean, it doesn't even get a section. It should. Maybe I'll talk to about it. . .

And on another note, do you guys prefer the long chapters? If you really wanted, I could break them up, but from my experience people would rather wait for my 12-18 page updates.

To the people at : Thanks for all your support. As far as the trip seeming too short, that's because I'm trying to write this much like Arc the Lad itself is played. Since Darc and Kharg just run across a map, I didn't want to go too much into the trip. I know the proofreading could be better, and I'll try to make sure this one is.

To the people at : I'm glad I was found here as well. has been having issues lately, and getting a post up is hard work, but I'll try to update ASAP.

To the people at MediaMiner: I appreciate the supportive reviews, but your ratings seem to say I have much room for improvement. What could make the story more creative to you or my writing style better?

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The other side of those massive doors was considerably different from the atmosphere of the rest of the mountain. Surrounded and protected by various cliffs, the Mount Fice Bandits' hideout was more like a small community, various houses littered across the area, all surrounding one large, central meeting place. The snow and wind were much more bearable here, and, if one was distracted enough, maybe even forgettable.

Now that he was sure he wasn't about to be fired at by an army of anxious bandits, Kharg decided to leave his hood on, both for the warmth it offered but also as a way to not draw attention to himself. If he took it off, people may wonder why one of Ortena's traveling companions would show his face and the other's wouldn't. Also, he felt it would be rude to flaunt his ability to walk around in public with no shame while Darc's only saving grace was that he was half human and Keyana's was her lack of wings, things neither of them were proud of.

The group followed Jedrick and Ortena, who were holding hands and walking a few paces faster. It was then that Kharg truly noticed how tall the couple was. Ortena was about his height to begin with, and this man she seemed to be in love with was three or four inches taller. Keyana lagged behind a bit, both from her weariness and short strides, and Kharg slowed down so that they were walking in a line, Darc in front of him and Keyana behind him.

The party soon entered the central meeting house, a rush of warm air thawing their freezing forms almost instantly. Keyana threw herself into the first available chair, so incredibly tired that even if someone had been sitting there already, she wouldn't have cared in the least. A few bandits took notice and instantly brightened when they saw their familiar blonde companion, completely ignoring her three mysterious guests.

"Ortena! You're not dead!" was called across the room, bringing everyone's attention to the doorway.

"You always did have a way with words, Fircy," she called back jokingly.

"This is cause for celebration!" someone else shouted, and the room erupted into thunderous chatter.

"Now would be a good time to explain your little secrets," Jedrick leaned over and whispered. "And make sure they know I had nothing to do with this."

"Calm yourself, dear, I know what I'm doing," she assured, adjusting her cloak for dramatic purposes. She stepped forward into the crowd, giving hugs and shaking hands with the only family she'd know since the murder of her family. It was odd that she'd returned with the spawn of that very murderer, but then wasn't the time to dwell.

"I think I prefer the guns," Darc spoke cynically as he took up the chair next to Keyana's seemingly lifeless form.

"What do you think they're going to do when she tells them?" she wondered.

"I don't know, but it better be soon."

As of on cue, Ortena was hoisted onto the long, wooden bar in the farthest corner of the now very crowded room. She raised both her hands, motioning for silence until the chaotic uproar died down to faint murmurs. With a deep breath and a warm smile, she prepared to play the crowd. "Well, obviously, I'm back!" At that the bandits began their celebratory yelling yet again, which she yet again hushed. "And I brought some new friends with me. Well, kinda. And I say we show them just how hard we can party." Shouts of agreement sounded in response as the three hooded figures rung their hands and claws nervously through the fabric of their coverings. It seemed more like she was setting them up to get attacked. "But there's one condition," she added, her voice suddenly serious. "You've grown to be like my family, and I hope that with that, you've come to trust my judgment. I know it's a little awkward, but I know what I'm doing here. During my travels I came across some people I've chosen to travel with. When I promise you they are no threat, I hope that you believe me."

The eerily silent crowd turned to the figures behind them, two of which were seated with one standing behind them.

"What, are they Deimos or something?" someone asked without being serious.

Unable to resisted, Keyana slowly reached up a clawed hand just as Darc did, pulling the hoods back to reveal themselves to the group. Though internally they were terrified, not an ounce of it showed as the smirked haughtily as if the challenge the mob to do something about their presence.

Shooting an icy glare to her sister and Darc, Ortena attempted to remedy the situation as best she could. "Technically one's a Deimos and the other. . ." she looked to Kharg for and ending to the statement. With surprising confidence, Kharg pulled back his hood as well and held up two fingers, nodding his consent. "The other two are half Deimos."

"Jedrick, sir," one of the older bandit men called out, pushing his way through the crowd to the doorway where his leader stood. "You allowed her to bring 'em in here? I say we kill 'em now. Forget who brought 'em here."

With a slight sigh and a shake of his head, Jedrick placed a hand on the man's shoulder, pinching down hard though his face showed nothing but disappointment. "You didn't let her finish," he reprimanded calmly as the man fell to he knees from the pain.

"Jedrick," Ortena interjected, placing her hands on her hips.

"Right, sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he let go and helped the frightened man back up as if they were the closest of friends.

"Anyways, as I was saying," she went to continue, "They're of no threat to you, so I want each and every one of you to treat them just as you would me."

"Are you sure about this Ortena?" a young girl, who was eying Keyana suspiciously, asked. Maybe the two half breeds, but you want us to trust a Hell Spawn."

"Oh come on, I don't bite," Keyana assured, taking a step forward. "Unless I feel like it, that is." Hand flew to weapons in an instant at the comment.

Feeling especially defeated, Ortena reached down deep and pulled out the only things she knew would have to work in this situation. Dropping down to her knees (and knocking over a drink glass or two, as she was still on the bar), the girl began to weep pitifully, wailing about how they all hated her and didn't trust her at all. Pretty soon the entire room felt ashamed of themselves and immediately went over to welcome their new guests to Mount Fice as Jedrick smiled fondly in his little corner.

"I never doubted you for a second."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

While Keyana was off finally seeing a doctor, Darc and Kharg got themselves situated in the small room allotted to them by an almost fearful young man who quickly left after they reached the door. The two half-breeds ignored him and entered, silently thanking whatever higher power there was that there were two small beds and a table in the room. Neither was fond of sharing their bed space, let alone with each other.

"You're very dumb, you know that?" Darc suddenly asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed that would be his. "You'd have been better off letting Ortena lie."

"That's your opinion," Kharg pointed out, sitting on the same bed so the two were back to back. "Sometimes you get sick of living a lie, even it the truth hurts more than reality. Denial is very. . ." he stared out the window at the light flurry of snowflakes and search for the right word. ". . . empty."

Darc didn't offer a reply, nor did he move.

"Can I ask you something?" he wondered, still not shifting his gaze form the blue-curtained window.

"Sure, but there's no guarantee I'll answer you," Darc replied honestly.

"Do you ever wish we'd never met?"

The intense seriousness and thoughtfulness of the question made the other young man blink hard, his eyes widening slightly when he reopened them. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"It's just something I wonder sometimes."

Getting up abruptly, Darc paced over to the window and stood beside it, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the wall as he looked out with the same far-off stare as his twin. "Do you want me to say I don't?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Kharg answered, looking down at the floor as his hands rested uneasily on his knees.

"Of course I do. It was a lot easier when I thought you were dead.

When I was told I had a twin brother that died with my mother, I assumed he would have looked liked me, and gone through the same things I had. But no, he was some pampered prince who was raised with wealth and comfort and a mother."

"I wasn't a prince," he corrected. "Our mother never wanted to be a queen or have the people of Nidellia live in a monarchy. I'll admit that many people didn't see it that way, but it wasn't as great as you think."

Darc rolled his eyes and shifted his posture so that he was staring straight at his brother, who had since leaned back onto straightened arms. "And what about you?" he asked, turning the question back on the inquirer.

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. If I'd never met you, then I would have continued living my life as a human, just like everyone else around me. I guess you could say back then, ignorance was bliss. Then again, if we hadn't met, then we would have never been able to team up and defeat the Lord of the Black Abyss."

Darc snorted lightly and turned away again. "We Deimos could have done it without your help."

"Suuuure," the other replied sarcastically with a small laugh. "And right now Lillia's leading the new war campaign against Cragh Island."

Suppressing the urge to smile at the mocking comment himself, Darc turned his attention back to the scene outside, faintly noticing the sounds of someone walking up behind him.

"Do you ever think that maybe there's even more people out there like us?" the boy asked, surprised a bit when his brother turned around to face him.

"If there are, they either don't know or are too afraid to say anything. Then again, fear can be a strong motivation in a lot of cases."

"Or it can hold you back from going after what you really want," Kharg argued earnestly, leaning forward a bit to emphasize his hastily given point. It was in awkward position for both of them, and yet neither could seem to find it in themselves to move. Instead they simply stood there, eyes locked firmly in unyielding contemplative stares. It was Darc who moved first, maybe attempting to get away but only succeeding in bringing them closer together to the point where, at their even heights, their chests almost touched. Kharg felt as if something strong and unyielding was bracing his neck, prohibiting him from looking anywhere else but into the scarlet eyes of his brother.

"Hey guys, Ortena wants you-" Keyana began as she swung open the door

without knocking. "Hey, you told me he wasn't your-"

"What does Ortena want?" Darc interrupted quickly, stepping past Kharg as a child would flee from a partner in crime.

"Follow me," she ordered, waving her hand as she stepped back into the hall, "We all need to refill our Charge Gauges."

"Our what?"

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Spi- rit Stones?" Jedrick repeated confusingly. "You're telling me your special attacks were powered by rocks?"

"Not rocks," Darc corrected. "It was an ancient form of power we'd used for centuries. What the hell's a Charge Gauge?"

"It's an electrical impulse the Morkeeth developed to power their attacks," Keyana answered sharply before Jedrick could. "The Serifins stole it from us and the humans thought they dare have a right to try to use it as well."

"Better in the hands of us than you filthy pieces of scum," the bandit leader barked back, balling his fists as if ready to strike. Normally he'd never lay a hand on a girl until physically hit first, but this was no girl to him. This was a monster.

"Oh please, like you worthless little weaklings could ever stand a chance against the immense magical powers of a Deimos."

Ortena cleared her throat loudly, interrupting the argument. "Now,

now children, let's not fight. Or did you already forget that you both agreed to be civil?" The two growled at each other, but no more words were exchanged. "Alright, I'm gonna turn it on for you, cause if you program it wrong it won't stop, and over-charging can kill you."

Kharg glanced over at the contraption in question. It was a metal box situated on a wall at about where his chest was. Inside were two parallel, horizontal poles, each with groves that resembled a hand's grip. "So it sends an electrical impulse through your body that stays there until you use it to cast?"

"Exactly," the green-clad girl chimed.

"You don't look much like a Deimos," Jedrick commented quite randomly, rubbing his chin as he narrowed his eyes in inspection. "Cept your ears. . . and that mark on your arm that's like his."

"Jedrick, stop that."

"What, I'm just telling the truth."

The girl sighed and flicked on the switch to activate the Gauge Charger. Kharg's hands instinctive went up to his ears, feeling how long they were. It was true, but no one ever question it, save for Paulette, who was quickly reprimanded by her father for talking to a member of the royal family in such a way. In fact, it was basically the first words the girl had ever spoken to him. "My, you sure have funny ears."

And his mark. The "Crest of Will" Darc said it was called. A shocking realization hit him just then: he hadn't reached for it in days, despite the plethora of uncomfortable and confusing situations he'd be thrown into. It was a startling thought, and yet he still felt no urge to reach for his comforting birthmark.

"See, just grab onto it and it'll charge you until you can't hold anymore. It'll know when, so you don't have to pay attention really," Ortena explained, demonstrating it as she did. Tiny blue sparks appeared every now and again, and the machine gave a louder hum during the process, but other than that nothing seemed to change. She stepped back and shook her hands a bit, exhaling a relieved breath. "Care to try?"

The rest of the group took turns at the contraption, feeling instantly revitalized mere seconds after the process was done. Darc and Kharg could feel the similarities and differences to the power of Spirit Stones. Spirits Stones were more of a weapon or an accessory to be used by them, helping to generate certain powers based on the ability and will of the user. This new concept of a Charge Gauge was something much more potent and tangible. It felt as if the power was inside them, coursing through their veins like some empowering high.

"I have to tell Tatjana about this," Kharg spoke with astonishment, staring at his hands and he clenched and unclenched them.

"That's nothing compared to what we have protecting our cities," Keyana told him. "Things no Serifin or human could ever dream of being able to handle or comprehend."

"Ah, then why don't you do us all a favor and blow yourselves up?" Jedrick suggested, spawning another harsh round of bickering that Ortena was forced to interrupt.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was a well know fact that the bandits of Mount Fice had a strong love for good music, good company and good liquor. Therefore, with an event as monumental as the return of the secondary leader (whom they all loved and respected), everyone was expected to party relentlessly through the night, whether they wanted to or not. The bar would be fully stocked, the musicians were already polishing their instruments and everyone was sifting through their closets, pondering what to wear.

Having to adapt to the mountain's frigid climate, Darc was forced by both Kharg and Ortena to abandon his armor in favor of a brown leather coat, which he often shifted and pulled at. He had never been fond of the cold, but this was absolutely wretched to him.

Kharg, on the other hand, gratefully accepted the black wool coat he was offered. In return for their hospitality, he offered to help with the set up, and at the moment Darc was watching him through the window as he carried one end of a long table. The Deimos hybrid couldn't help but wonder if they'd accept him like that, had he been willing to help. Even through their apparent friendliness, he could still sense a deep and fierce hostility in each of them. They put up with their new guests for the sake of their leader.

He smirked at this, feeling a little higher than the ignorant humans who looked down upon them. They didn't even know that Ortena was a half-breed herself, and though he had no intention of doing so, he was curious as to how the group would react. Probably with disgust and malice, knowing usual human behavior toward Deimos. And Jedrick, the top advocate for Deimos genocide, it seemed, would be the most interesting one to watch.

Darc remained lost in his thoughts like that until Kharg went running by his field of vision again, looking behind himself occasionally as if he were being chased. Right on his tail was Ortena, having donned a jade-green coat that matched her dress and eyes. She was playfully hurtling snowballs at her fleeing fellow half breed, Jedrick following close behind. It was quite a random and comical scene, bringing a genuine smile to his features for a flickering moment.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Keyana pushed and shoved her way through the boisterous crowd, taking

the seat at the furthest end of the bar. She looked up when a shadow brushed over to her, expecting to see a large, rugged man wiping out a glass and asking sharply what her order was. Instead she found a petit young woman with long blonde hair, bright and golden much like her sister's. She wore a black headband lined with white lace, which matched her long-sleeved dress, which had the same lining on its cuffs and the base of the skirt. Kind blue eyes shut as she smiled sweetly, asking in an outwardly friendly and courteous tone, "Evening, Hell Spawn, what I can I get for the evil and disgraceful likes of you?"

"Something hard that'll make me forget that I'm trapped with a bunch of moronic humans." She looked down at the girls feet, noting the floor behind the bar was elevated considerably to compensate for the girl's height. "And make it snappy, midget."

"How abut kerosene?" the girl suggested, her voice still calm and charming.

"Hey Perri, see if she can handle what Jedrick drinks," Ortena called from the other end of the bar, eyeing her sister with a challenging glare.

The Morkeeth looked bemused as an amber-colored drink was placed in front of her, but she didn't look ready to back down any time soon. The area around the bar went silent as they realized what the petit demon woman was about to attempt. No one but their leader could ever

handle a shot of his famous "Fice Shaker" without sputtering for a good twenty minutes from just the smell alone. Needless to say, the drink was strong.

Darc who had, by then, finally located his brother, watched the spectacle himself from behind her, his arms crossed self-consciously over his bare chest. He longed for his armor, but no one was paying attention to him much anyways. Instead he too focused on the Deimos woman sitting at the bar, swishing her drink back and forth in her glass. In one quick motion she banged the glass back on to the bar and then brought it to her lips, swallowing all of it in one loud gulp.

The crowd went wild, reminding both of the half-bred brothers of the arena battles they'd fought in. With an air of superiority, Keyana waved her hand indifferently and casually asked, "Is that the best you've got?"

Back in the corner, Kharg leaned over to his brother and quietly inquired, "Do you drink alcohol?"

Without thinking he answered honestly. Maybe just a little too honestly. "Are you kidding?" he responded with a bitter laugh. "I may have been in charge of buying it for that old hag, but if she ever caught me smelling like it I'd get beaten until I-" he stopped abruptly, turning the conversation back to its original point. "No, I don't drink. Do you?"

Choosing not to peruse what Darc obviously didn't want to talk about, he answered the question he was asked. "Humans can't drink until they're 20."

Before the other could respond, both boys found their necks encircles from behind by a figure that was obviously shorter than them and substantially inebriated. She leaned on them for support, dragging herself up until she was standing while pulling them down to her level. "You guys aren'so bad," she half sang, swaying back and forth.

"Thera, what did I tell you about getting out of my eyesight when your drunk?" a much taller, older-looking brunette shouted at the redhead draped across the two brothers. This girl looked more like a planner and less like a fighter, her long brown hair tied into pigtails at her neck and her black, wire-framed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She apologized for her friend's behavior and scolded her quietly, dragging her back into the crowd.

Back at the bar, Jedrick and Keyana were having a drinking contest and Ortena was wishing she'd never been born.

With a disappointed sigh, the older bandit teenager sat her drunken friend down in an empty chair and immediately began chastising her. "What did I tell you about getting so drunk that you can't remember your own name?"

"I know my name," Thera argued back indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "It's Acalia."

"That's my name."

"Don't try to steal my name!"

Kharg let out a stifled laugh at the display, which reminded him slightly of the Defense Corps members whom his mother often ended up taking care of the morning after. It was an odd thing to trigger homesickness, but it did all the same.

"You look so cute when you laugh," a delicate, unfamiliar voice spoke, breaking him from his reverie. He turned a little to find a young, blonde bandit standing with her arms folded behind her back. Her hair was different from Ortena's or Perri's, darker and kissed with a bit of an orange. Considering the exceptionally cold temperatures of the region, she looked out of place in her denim skirt, which was short enough to reveal the leather belt of handleless knives on her right thigh, most likely her weapon of choice.

"Thanks," he replied sheepishly, "but shouldn't you hate me?"

"Nah, who could hate you with a face like that?" she asked, waving her hand as if to dismiss his inquiry. "You're far too cute for that. As a matter of fact, can I hug you?"

Smiling kindly as the girl's friendliness, Kharg gathered the petit girl into a warm embrace, not caring that it had no real reason behind it. Over the girl's shoulder he spotted Ortena walking toward him, her glass of water in one hand.

"Amicable as ever, eh Melosa?" the female bandit leader observed, giving the girl a slight hug with her free arm.

"Well I just feel bad that people are being mean to him," Melosa spoke up, trying to defend her actions. "I don't see why we have to hate them, it doesn't get us anywhere."

Leaning in close, Ortena dropped her voice to a whisper. "I know that's how you feel, but you know better than to talk like that in a place like this."

Sensing the seriousness of the conversation, Kharg kept his voice low as well. "Why are you a part of this if that's how you feel?"

The girl's eyes lost their brightness as they fell to the floor. "Because my friends are here, and I don't want to lose them. Maybe I'm just being a dreamer, but when I look at you and your brother, I see some kind of hope for a peaceful future. Miss Ortena says she understands how I feel, but everyone is just so bent on fighting that… that…" she trailed off, choking on a sob.

"She's a very… sensitive girl," Ortena explained, leading Melosa away with a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Left alone once again, Kharg couldn't help but feel pulled, as if something were missing and he was supposed to go find it. He scanned the room for his brother, panicking slightly at his brother's absence.

Over at the bar, Jedrick (who was quite drunk by this point) had forfeited the drinking contest.

"What are you, woman?" he asked, accusatively and unsteadily point his empty glass at her. "Scratch that, you ain't no woman, you're a beast."

"Ah com'on Jedrick," a tan, dark-haired bandit called from behind him, slapping him on the shoulder. "Yer not gonna let 'er win, are ya?"

"I gotta," the scarred young man relented. "I bet the likes of you drink poison with your breakfast."

Keyana smirked at the assumption, rolling her drink glass back and forth with her palms. "Only on special occasions."

Kharg once again scanned the room, but Darc was still nowhere to be found. Without so much as a goodbye to anyone, he took off hastily through the door and into the biting chill of the quiet evening. The world he'd walked into looked quite desolate and shadowy, the building looking as if their windows had been doused with black from the inside.

A faint light flickered shallowly at the end of the road, grasping Kharg's attention in and firm and passionate grip. Holding his blue collar shut to delay the cold from seeping into his body, he took his first few steps toward the mysterious disturbance.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Oh, but tell it again," one of the older bandit woman pleaded as she looked up at her leaders. Jedrick and Ortena sat like a king and queen on large, wooden chairs atop a stage at the rear of the room.

"Yeah, I love hearing that story," Melosa chimed. "It's so sweet."

Like the crew of rowdy drunks they were, the Mount Fice Bandits began a deep and steady chant of "Tell it. Tell it. Tell it."

Raising his hands in surrender (and earning a cheer so loud he thought it had echoed back off the cliffs), Jedrick pulled off his black gloves and laced his fingers with Ortena's. Keyana eyed the gesture with malice and disgust, but no one was paying her any mind.

"Ah, but where to start?" he asked the crowd.

"Well start at the very beginning," Ortena suggested. "I hear it's a very good place to start."

"Alright, alright. Well folks, we all know the rules of this here mountain. Those who wanna be leader have to go on a Pilgrimage to the Cave of Morrows, break off a chip from our Sword of History and bring it back. Well after the death of our brave and fearless leader at the hands of you Morkeeth rubbish," he spat in Keyana's direction as many of the bandits flashed death glares at her, "I was chosen, at twenty-five, to be the youngest leader Mount Fice had ever had. And we all may know this, but I think I know it better then any of you will ever know: it's fucking cold out there." He paused as everyone gave a short laugh before he continued. "Yeah, well I still got there alright, bein' used to the cold an all, but then this huge blizzard came rolling along and decided, 'Hey, look, that Jedrick guy is trying to accomplishing something really important and difficult, let's make it a billion times harder.'

Ah, and to make matters worse I had to have a lovely run in with a Serifin that got grounded by the storm. That blue bitch slashed me from ear to chin, and I'll be wearing the scar to prove it for the rest of my life."

'I see you've met Evadne,' Keyana mused to herself bitterly.

"And I'll admit it, that chick was something' fierce. I was just so damn numb and tired and hungry that I could barely hold on to my weapons, let alone fight the damn banshee off. Ah but then, you see, Heaven sent me an angel with a black whip." A bandit whistled lewdly and the room laughed again. "Needless to say, we took her down together, and she flew off. The problem was we were real beat up and when I asked this mystery girl how she was, she went and fell right over into the snow.

Now when I saw that pale, pretty face of hers, I just knew I hadta get back no matter what, cause if I didn't, then I'd be letting this girl go for good, and that just wasn't gonna happen. Not if I had something to say about it! I picked her up and dragged us both back to this very hall. They say I passed out, but I still wouldn't let go of her. Been like that ever since." He brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of Ortena's hand gently, making her blush. Keyana childishly pretended to gag.

"To Jedrick and Ortena," Acalia announced, raising her glass to the couple. "We could ask for no better leaders."

"Here! Here!" the crowd echoed, clinking their glasses.

Ortena looked over to her sister, surprised to see her minding her claws as she too, raised her glass. A smile was about to grace her features when Keyana dropped the glass, allowing it to shatter on the floor.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was a strange kind of feeling, awkward and yet comforting at the same time. It didn't matter that he was still a good few paces from the dimly lit building; he simply knew that was where he would find his brother. The establishment looked much like a small barn, with doors that swung open at either half and a lower roof than the houses.

Peering through the window, Kharg first caught sight of the tall, white candle in the golden holder by the window. The winds from outside seeped in through the small cracks in the broken window, which looked ready to shatter if too much pressure were applied, and made the flame flicker and send shadows moving against the walls.

Then a figure moved, unhooking the latch that kept a wooden gate shut. Darc stepped through and sat himself down on the hay the animals there used for bedding. Small, long, white creatures roused from their sleep, stretching out their many arms before crawling around a bit, their short fur matted and sometimes retaining some stray pieces of hay from the floor. Beady black eyes turned to Darc, who simply crossed his legs and stared back, knowing better than to threaten the creatures.

Little by little they made their way toward the Deimos hybrid, sniffing at his skirt before testing to see if they could climb in him. A particularly daring one ascended right to his shoulder before scurrying up onto his head. With uncharacteristic softness, Darc

reached up and pet it, making no attempt to remove it from him at all. Another soon followed, contenting itself with curling up on his lap and returning to its interrupted sleep. A few others fought for his attention, butting both hand and claw with their heads in

communication of their desire to be pet.

Despite the warm moistness of his breathe, Kharg was breathing so shallowly that the window did not fog up at all. He continued to watch his brother like that for… he didn't even know how long. His expression remained confused and dazed until one of the small animals touched the tip of it's nose to Darc's affectionately, after which he smiled lightly. It was odd, but not all that shocking, to know that Darc could be like this…

… could care for something.