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Author's Note: Remember, anyone wants to see something in a chapter, just let me know. I'll write it in.

-/-/-/-

"If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life…"
-The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

-/-/-/-

They were a strange pair. That was Martel's first impression of Yuan-and-Kratos, or any variations of it.

Yuan was all mischievous grins and glints mixed with a curiosity to rival Mithos'. He was strangely sweet and easy to like. His was a peculiar charm, full of things that could almost have been insults had it not been for the smile that accompanied them and the lightness of his tone.

He and Mithos argued and fought—never anything serious and Kratos assured her, the first time that they got into a wrestling match, that Yuan would never hurt him—but sometimes, they were friends. Yuan knew how to spark the competitive spark in Mithos and Kratos and Martel would laugh as they raced down the plains.

More than once, Martel had seen Yuan and Kratos with a book shared between them, sitting close by the fire, and reading quietly to each other. Those times, neither she nor Mithos intruded because those moments were theirs.

Kratos was harder for Martel to like. Not because of him, because he was polite and had a different brand of sweetness than Yuan and he was oddly gentle despite the sword he wore at his hip and the shadows in his odd eyes. His sense of humor was dry to Yuan's sarcasm, but they worked in an easy tandem.

And she'd seen him with Yuan on the nights when the other half-elf woke shouting and screaming. That first night, Martel had of course been woken by his sounds, as had Mithos. She'd told Mithos to go back to sleep and had been about to go help Yuan when Kratos had crossed the short space between them.

"Go on back to bed, Martel." Kratos said quietly, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. "I'll take care of him."

And he did, with soft words and brotherhood and something that Martel couldn't hear, but she heard Yuan's burst of laughter and she knew that he'd be alright.

Martel was still a little afraid of him, though not because of anything he did because Kratos had done nothing but listen to her share her stories and life with Yuan, who voiced the questions that Kratos was too polite to ask. Mithos walked with him often, seeming to trust him a little easier and he made Mithos laugh and light up like he hadn't in a good long while.

But he was human. And every instinct in Martel was telling her to not trust him.

But then she saw how he and Yuan were around each other. Playful, shining, soaring, one soul in two bodies, two sides of a coin, two faces of the same person.

It was unique and incredible and absolutely impossible because humans and half-elves couldn't possibly be so close.

But they were.

-/-/-/-

They were nice people, Yuan-and-Kratos thought. Martel and Mithos, that was.

Martel was maternal and gentle, with a surprisingly sharp with and an easy smile. Yuan had been in love with her since he laid eyes on her—quite literally from what Kratos had been told by his best friend—and Kratos couldn't blame him. Martel was lovely and very real, with skin that browned and freckled and peeled and her cheeks pinked when Yuan would tug teasingly on her braid before she retorted by pointing out his own hair, which only made him laugh.

Mithos was…different. He was intelligent and bright and, to Kratos, from what Yuan had told him of the Summon Spirits, he looked like he should be Luna's son. And he reminded Kratos a little of Yuan when they'd first met; always observing, curious, always wanting to know more.

It was strange to be travelling with other people. It had been just Them for so long that everyone else had seemed so distant. But Martel-and-Mithos was the same as Them and not. They were the earth to their sky and somehow, they fit.

Kratos saw the slightly skeptical look on Martel's face when he and Yuan acted like, well, themselves. He knew what she was thinking, that this couldn't be possible, that humans and half-elves couldn't be so close. And he knew that Yuan agreed with him because he'd seen it too.

They strived to prove her, and Mithos because surely he must think some semblance of the same thing, wrong.

Kratos helped Martel with the firewood and was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He wanted to hear stories of Heimdall, of the places they'd been and the people they'd met. Martel's voice was vaguely musical and quiet, very similar to her brother's. Kratos wasn't sure if it was an accent or something simply Mithos-and-Martel.

Either way, something about her voice made Kratos ask if she played an instrument.

Martel looked surprised. "Yes, I do. The flute."

"Really? Can, I mean, would you play for us sometime?" Kratos smiled a little sheepishly. "Yuan and I aren't very good at anything to do with music."

"Particularly Kratos." Yuan commented, flashing a grin to combat Kratos' playful glare. "I swear, he's tone-deaf. Never ever ask him to sing for you. "

Martel's laugh was silvery and smooth. "Sure, I'll play for you."

The Yggdrasill siblings were close; easy to love and beautiful and Kratos-and-Yuan was easy enough to stretch around them until they were part of their own strange patchwork family. They're more elven than Yuan and quieter than Kratos and so very stubborn sometimes (They fit right in, Yuan laughs)

Kratos had to agree with him.