I'M SO SORRY GUYS!
Really, I meant to update sooner, but I got distracted, and then I lost the inspiration for this chapter, and then, two days ago I had a massive brainwave and started writing the third chapter. However, my computer is super dodgy and decided to freeze, so I lost half of what was a near-completed chapter. I screamed and swore for about 10 minutes before I decided to rewrite what I remembered before I forgot it, and thus, the chapter was completed in record time.

I hope you guys forgive me for the massive wait. I made this chapter extra long, to make it up to you guys. Its a whopping 6821 words, the longest single chapter I have ever written for anything.

Chapter 3

The Journeys That Define Us

Aralosian Orbit-Space,
Mandaria Asteroid Belt,
Hyfta System,
13th Janwir

Feliks glowered out at the asteroid drifting idly by his window. He'd had the same, vexed expression on his face for several hours now – along with a slumped frame and crossed arms – and was fairly certain that his face and body had moulded permanently to accommodate the mien. He couldn't help but feel like Matthias had completely ignored what he'd said. And, still, even though he'd made it clear he didn't want to come, he'd been dragged along, because of course he had. To top it all off, Matthias was barely speaking to him, and would only give very strained smiles when he tried to talk to him. Feliks didn't know why, but suspected that he'd said something during their argument – the last time he'd properly spoken to Matthias – to insult or hurt him.

Feliks hadn't meant it, of course, he was just worried about all of their safety. Some of those in their crew had been through enough. They didn't need any extra heartache. Feliks didn't consider himself someone who'd suffered massively. Unlike others, he hadn't been forced to watch his parents or any other family die. His time on the streets had been rough, but he was sure others had experienced worse. He remembered a conversation he'd had with his aunt once.

'No matter how much pain you go through, there will always be someone who has felt worse.'

She'd said. He, only 7 at the time, hadn't understood.

'But, auntie, what if there is no one who has felt worse?' his aunt just smiled at him and tapped him on the nose, smiling slightly.

'That won't happen, don't you worry.'

It had taken him years to understand what she meant. Pain and suffering were almost always things that could be dwarfed. There could almost always be something worse. By the time it got to something resembling the 'absolute worst', the only thing left was death, by which point it didn't matter anymore. Dead men didn't keep records. There was no worst. Just the pain you felt, and how you chose to deal with it. Feliks knew that now. He'd felt severe pain in the past, but he'd kept on going despite it.

This was a different kind of pain, though. It was the pain of having one of your best friends ignore and dismiss you. He'd always thought Matthias valued his opinion, but he felt useless now, dragged out to a desolate planet to hunt for a bunch of royals who hadn't been seen in over a decade.

Feliks shook his head his head at himself. What was wrong with him? He didn't get what he wanted, so he was throwing a fit? He was ashamed of himself. If he was a good friend, he would have supported Matthias, no matter how much he hated the idea himself. And it was better than sitting around trying to scramble after minor cases. He dragged himself off the couch he'd previously been slumped on, deciding to go and talk to Matthias. He'd make it clear he didn't want to be going, but he'd still go only with whatever his best friend said.

Feliks took one last look out the window at Aralos. It was a vibrantly coloured planet, the surface an array of reds, browns, oranges and yellows. The clouds, rather than white, were black, a specialty of the planet. It did add a certain beauty when viewed from orbit, though. He pressed his hand to the panel beside the door to open it, before continuing down the hall to find his friends.

Herr Sector,
Interplanetary Docking Bay,
Incanda,
13th Janwir

Lovino muttered a soft curse as the captain made to make another check of the roster. The man – a gargantuan one by any normal standards; he stood, easily, at over seven feet, with a mane of twisted silver hair and black eyes to match – had made at least three checks already that all the cargo had been loaded onboard. Of course, this was hardly surprising. The man, evidently born of Metteoan parents, would have been one to be careful. His kind were renowned for caution, a trait that used to, before the Great Conquest, annoy him greatly. What was the point of living life if you spent half of it worrying over trivial matters?

Now however, he understood, at least, the instinctual caution. The universe was a dangerous place, and at any moment, attack, death or assault were all valid possibilities. This was true especially for unseized planets, rife with homicide, rape and other crimes – as well as their many offending criminals. Those were planets whose very names were constantly accompanied by horrifying rumours and old stories, fraught with both obvious inaccuracies and saddening truths. Those places were places never willingly travelled to, at least not by the sane and sensible. But Lovino did not have the time or the means to be either of those things, and for this reason, he and his brother were headed to the furthest reaches of the civilised universe, to the most unpredictable and untameable of these planets. None of them was a particularly friendly option. Aralos was a desert planet filled with criminals starved for money, food and sex – people who would use force and violence to get all three of those things. Qyyyt was a dark, spiritless prison filled with the hopeless and the soulless. Jhobras was a planet of decade-long floods balanced out by droughts that spanned the same amounts of time.

All could mean certain death for Feliciano, but Lovino would fit in well in each. Feliciano was innocent still, and not in the sense that he had not been exposed to the horrors of the universe. He had, and many more than the average person would have been. But he had not yet been forced to take part in those same horrors. Lovino was not so innocent. Feli seemed to believe that his older brother had managed to get them this far without doing anything shady, that his brother had managed to keep them alive through morality alone.

Feliciano was naïve.

The captain straightened up from where he had been bowed over, checking a new case of black glass brought in by a merchant who seemed, from what conversation they had overheard, to have a bad habit of sleeping in. He grumbled something in Mettethi and handed a fat pouch to the merchant, who bowed, before yelling in crude Lysi to the men standing behind him. Silently, lodging not a single complaint, they began carting the cases up into the cargo hanger. Any normal man at the least, would have furrowed a brow at the sharp, caustic way in which the instructions were delivered. But these were not men. The curling ink on the neck and silver teardrop chains were the initial indicator, but the slumped posture that all of the men held made it just as obvious what they were.

Lovino narrowed his eyes slightly, hating not their clothing, or the manner in which they carried themselves, but at the haunted expressions on their faces, and the downcast look on the face of each one. Their position was not admirable, or enviable in any small measure, but it was still, perhaps, preferable to the life of a pariah. Turning his gaze from them, Lovino nudged his brother, and gestured to a small alcove in the wall, hidden when standing by the door. Feliciano nodded wordlessly and slipped inside, pushing himself to the very back. Lovino moved silently toward the opposite side of the cargo hold, where he was in a much smaller, much more uncomfortable and much more dangerous spot. Here, however, he could clear the way if necessary without his brother being in the line of fire. His long, slender fingers brushed along the blade of his dagger, before tightening around the bone hilt. Lovino would do anything for his brother, whether it be going hungry himself to feed Feli, stealing and cheating so he could sleep in a bed, or, in the worst outcome, slitting his brother's throat so as to avoid a painful and prolonged death, Lovino would do it.

But now was not the time to dwell on such things. Lovino shifted his weight between both legs as the metal beneath him began to vibrate, and the dull roar of engines starting filled the chilled air. The entire ship tilted before Lovino heard the dull slamming of landing gear retracting, and knew they were well on their way.

Mauriti Settlement,
Vyls Desert,
Aralos,
14th Janwir

Tori watched with mild interest as the ship docked. It clearly wasn't a ship on any professional business or trade. The build and model were far too slim and inconspicuous. The ship she was looking at was built for speed and agility, and definitely not for holding a massive amount of cargo or passengers. It was, clearly, just another load of people trying to sift through the shit in the galaxy to find something worth more than a copper piece. Whether that was vehicles, jewels, artefacts or people, Tori didn't care to find out. She had watched a million persona-non-gratas pass through this system, and knew every type in which they came.

Using her arms to propel herself off the wall she'd been leaning on, Tori began moving toward the centre of Mauriti. The settlement couldn't really be called a town; even village was too rich a word for it. In reality, it was really only a small collection of shanties and roughly-constructed shelters with a stone wall built around it, notable only for the fact it was the only place in the entire Vyls desert with even a drop of water. It was a cesspool of sex, drugs, illegal trade and violence but shit, it was home.

It was even more depressing a prospect than it sounded, and it was her reality. Not always had she survived here like she did now. Before, when she was younger, she had had to develop some skill as a pickpocket just to get by, and often went days without meals. Sometimes, kind foreigners would pass her a coin or two, but normally that didn't last long. When she was younger, she also didn't have a good concept of saving money. At that age, she had believed in doing things the moral way. Now, that was an idea she had not dwelled on for years. It seemed amazing she had once been so steadfast in a set of values, especially since she had left those same values in the dust. She had retained few of them. She had been forced to accept that morals didn't feed you, or clothe you, or put money in your pocket. Action did, and action in this place was almost as immoral as you could get.

She had not been mentored by a wise man or woman determined to make the scrawny but potential-filled underdog into the great person they were destined to be. She had been forced to her knees, struck with a metal wrench and forced open. She did not censor her thoughts to it. It was a simple fact. That man had shown her the true darkness of the world, and in return for this disclosure, she had pushed his head into a vat of water until his entire body went still. Afterwards, an old woman of Rywanese descent had calmly informed her that she would pay Tori to collect mechanical parts from crashed ships and hovercraft. Tori had set out at dawn the next morning, and never looked back. It was not a satisfying tale of heroics and resilience, it was a short and bitter history of learning to shut the fuck up and deal with what life threw at you. The past couldn't be changed, but the future was free to be altered. Tori liked to keep that in mind when life was particularly shitty.

The 'centre' of Mauriti was a small omega-shaped grouping of stalls and ships that had been converted into trade bars. The common products of today appeared to be figs and dry Jhobrasi ale - a combination that could wreak havoc on one's bowels. Tori, unfortunately, knew from experience. She hadn't been able to walk for a week, and just the sight of either was enough to make her lose her appetite. Luckily, she hadn't had much of one upon entering the ring, so she did not consider it much of a loss. As she surveyed the area, she noticed a man – a foreigner, evident just from how he was dressed, who appeared to be in the midst of making the same mistake she had once made.

Within moments she had crossed the ring to where he stood, and took in a little more of his appearance. He was tall, taller than her, anyway, with long blond hair and a pair of sharp green eyes. Beside him stood a tall man with dirty blond hair hanging every which way, blue eyes and a massive grin on his face. The two were talking together excitedly in what she recognised, after a moment, as Common Speech. She would guess they were either Rywanese or Reycausian, then. She approached briskly, and reached over and tapped the shorter man on the shoulder. He turned, his green eyes meeting her own.

"You aren't buying those together, are you?" she asked, not bothering to introduce herself, or even greet them.

"Uhh," the man looked down at the produce in his hands, "well yes, but–"

"If you're getting both the ale and the figs, never eat them together." She cut in.

He blinked. "Why no–"

"You'll shit and vomit out half your body weight, and you won't be able to feel your legs for a week." She stated simply. The man's eyes were open almost comically wide, and she shrugged genially before turning on her heel and marching in the opposite direction.

"Thanks, I guess." The man said behind her. She didn't respond, or even acknowledge the fact that he had spoken. She pulled her rihk-al closer around her head and tucked a few stray hairs underneath the light, silken cloth. As she moved out of the ring, she noticed another group entering. It was the pilots of the recently landed ship in the docks. Perhaps not all of them, true, but among them she saw two men and, to her surprise, a woman clearly of Nymian descent. Evidently then, she had been wrong, and they were not bounty hunters after all. Curiosity successfully peaked, she silently vowed to keep her eye on them while they stayed in Mauriti.

Anyone who was not a bounty hunter was better than most of Mauriti's inhabitants. People who weren't bounty hunters still potentially possessed some empathy. And if that was so, they could get her out of here.

Kalsi'Na,
Rykkné Plains,
Aralos
14th Janwir

Lia turned over onto her left side, attempting to make herself comfortable; no matter what she did, however, she seemed unable to find a position that could aid her quest for a good sleep. Lukas had set off toward the seedy looking shops that lined the narrow dirt road, probably to attempt to barter for food and clothing that was more suitable for their environment. Lia reached her hand out and smiled when she felt the horse snuffle against her hand. Though she rarely spoke of it, Lia loved animals. Birds in particular. She remembered, back on Fynkn, she had a small black and white bird that would fly after her wherever she went, and caw softly when she spoke to it. It hadn't had a name, but she held the memories of it fondly in her mind. The horses were the first animals she had been near for a while as, prior to the wasted landscape of Aralos, she and Lukas had been residing on Reycass.

Staying in a cramped, musty room less than five square metres, animals had been a complete nope. Lukas had managed to steal these two beautiful horses from a Hestion-bound slaver with horrific jaundice. The man's personality had been even more unpleasant than his appearance, and Lia had briefly witnessed the barrage of slurs, insults and slaps that followed the accidental dropping of a crate by a sallow-faced worker. Any sympathy she had held for the man and his obvious health issues vanished in an instant; replaced with anger and disgust. How some people were able to be so heartless to others was beyond her, and she had seen some very despicable people.

Lia had taken after her brother, however, and didn't show much emotion in response to these facts, or anything else. She and her brother tended to have what one Lysi officer had dubbed a 'resting stoneface'. Neither of them seemed to enjoy letting others understand what was going on through their minds, and so would constantly make sure they were as unreadable as possible. Letting others in was dangerous, because with familiarity came friendship, and with friendship came spilled secrets, and no-one in the universe would help them if they knew who was after them.

Lia sat up as she heard the door to the small shanty open, and relaxed only after she saw the unmistakeable dark blue hue of her older brother's eyes. He had long since had to dye her hair and his own. Both now a rich auburn colour, in comparison to Lukas' usual white blond and Lia's silver. It was bad enough that they couldn't change their eyes. Leaving their hair the same would be the equivalent of writing 'FYNKNIAN ESCAPEE' on her forehead. It was just as suicidal and thoughtless.

Lukas settled down next to her, running his long, slender fingers through the horse's mane gently. His brow was furrowed slightly, and he seemed a little put off.

"What is it?" Lia inquired, leaning over a little so she didn't have to speak as loudly.

"Not a single ship is headed to Nyma." Her brother said, voice heavy as he rested his arm over his eyes. "Not one."

"We can wait." She replied, though their options appeared to be getting seriously limited now.

Lukas lifted his arm slightly and peered at her.

"Lia."

"Don't fucking argue with me." She warned.

"Lia."

"It is not pointless, okay? We will get off this shitty planet and survive, and take back our planet from the assholes that took it from us!"

"Emilia." He said, voice a little harder now.

"By Macanna, what?" she asked.

Lukas leant back a little, resting his arm back over his eyes.

"Don't swear."

Emilia punched him, warranting a small laugh from Lukas as he sat up, letting a few strands of his dyed hair to fall over his eyes. She glared at him a moment before hugging him. Lukas reciprocated, and she could feel his smirk against her shoulder.

"Ready to see how sharp-eyed Aralosians are?"

She pulled away, already planning out what ways in which she could best rob the civilians of the town.

"You bet."

Mauriti Settlement,
Vyls Desert,
Aralos,
15th Janwir

Feliks awkwardly patted Alfred's head, trying to conceal his smile. His loud-mouthed friend had, despite the warning Matthias and himself had passed on, attempted to digest figs and Jhobrasian ale in the same day. It hadn't ended well for the 20 year old, who was now draped over one of the moth-eaten couches bolted down in the common room of their ship. Feliks had told his friend not to eat the two in the same day – wisely, he saw now, heeding the warning that the rihk-al wearing girl had given him – and in response, Al had attempted to beat biology. The man, did, however, in contrast to what the girl had said, seemed to be cleansing his body of the combination in a way different to what she stated. The figs and ale were, to put it crudely, coming out the other way. Feliks didn't think he'd seen so much vomit in his life, and Francis hadn't been able to come down this end of the ship without gagging. Unfortunately, as Berwald seemed to think that it was Feliks' fault for putting the idea in Al's head in the first place, the Pyndaphian had been assigned to caring for the near-comatose man.

Stretching as he stood up, Feliks cracked his joints loudly before heading for the door. Since the Aralosian girl had known the effects the combination had on the body (he pitied her if it was from personal experience), he figured she might have a possible way of curing it. Or, at the very least, an extremely efficient way of cleaning up vomit.

After yelling to Gilbert where he was going, and to take care of Al whilst he was gone, Feliks made his way out into the sun. It was a good change to be on such a warm planet. Gilbert's fair, melanin-deprived skin had been unable to handle the intense heat let off by the planet's sun, though Feliks guessed the reason for his friend's reclusion was also related to a Garvich that the group had spotted on their way in. Gilbert hated being near members of the Garvirili race, and it was not based on their culture, or even their unconventional and somewhat unpleasant appearance. It was based more on their sense of smell, and exactly what sort of things would happen if they got a good whiff of him. Gilbert was, as dubbed by most history books and common races, a 'taint'. They were not at all common nowadays, and for good reasons that were mostly ethically related. Feliks had been taught the same old tales when he was young. But he remembered little of his school environment, and had known Gilbert for over 4 years, and knew exactly which one he trusted more.

Mauriti, as the walled settlement was called, didn't seem to be filled with people that would care much, but Gilbert was, as much as he might deny it, cautious, and would rather not run the risk of being singled out. As he walked, Feliks realised, with a chunk of logic so massive it stopped in his tracks, that it would be very hard to find to locate the girl who had helped him. She had been wearing a rihk-al , used mostly in areas like these for the blessing of anonymity. And, of course, many others here were wearing the very same garb. Muttering curses under his breath at his own stupidity, Feliks absently walked forward, wishing he had thought of that. Not willing, however, to give up, or, indeed, sacrifice the freedom of being out on the streets, he continued on, determined to at least get a good feel for the area before they left; just in case they ever came back.

Not to mention, it would beneficial for his entire team if he was able to establish contacts in Mauriti.

So, for now, Gilbert was on vomit-duty.

An hour in the omega-shaped centre of Mauriti was an hour well spent. The centre was larger, and more densely populated than it appeared at first glance, and Feliks had managed to be introduced to a vast array of some of the most bizarre products he had ever seen. As he walked, Feliks found himself wandering back to the stall selling the Jhobrasian ale. He picked up the bottle and turned it over in his hands, silently wondering at what could possibly be in the drink that caused such a reaction when combined with figs.

"I really hope you remember my warning." Blinking at the familiar, feminine voice, Feliks turned to face the helpful Aralosian girl. Upon closer inspection, he could see that she wasn't Aralosian at all. From what he could see of her face, she was fair-skinned, and possessed the most spectacular green eyes he had ever seen. Realising what she had said, Feliks stepped back, placing the bottle back on the bench.

"Oh, no. I mean, yes, I remember it. I warned my friends, too, but one of them didn't listen."

She raised a dark eyebrow.

"And?"

"My sincerest apologies if you know that from personal experience. My friend's stomach seems to be trying to eject itself out of two different openings."

The girl sighed, shaking her head slightly.

"I did warn you."

"And I heeded that warning. My friend isn't too bright." The girl made a short noise that might have been a laugh, and, encouraged, Feliks continued. "Actually, I was looking for you. I was just wondering, if you know of a cure, or is it just best to wait it out?"

The girl cocked her head slightly.

"Yes, I have something that decreases symptoms and pretty much heals you, but it'll cost you."

Feliks held up the pouch of money he'd been carrying around all morning.

"I can afford it."

The girl, or woman, as he should say, led him back to her small stall, which appeared to be full of old machine parts and other spare implements. She moved to the back and began shuffling through a chest, which appeared to be filled with a variety of different things. After a moment or two, he heard her curse before he heard a rustling noise. Turning to gaze absently out at the street, he struck up small talk.

"So, what's your name?"

"Linara."

"Is that your real name?"

"No."

"Shame, it's a pretty one."

"My real one is prettier."

"I'm sure it is."

He heard her make a triumphant noise before calling him over. He turned, caught sight of her, and blinked a little. Evidently the rustling earlier had been her fiddling with her rihk-al. The headscarf now was looped around her neck, and he could clearly see her face. She had fair skin, though it was a few hues darker than his own, likely due to her years living under the Aralosian sun. Her nose seemed perfectly proportioned for the rest of her elfin-shaped face. Her eyes, still that same captivating shade of green, where framed by long, dark eyelashes, and lay beneath arched eyebrows. Her hair, in surprising contrast to her fair skin – as she clearly wasn't of Yanian descent – was a dark brown colour. She had grown it out to her waist, and it was twisted into a long braid.

In other words, she was attractive in the way that she could be a serious distraction.

Raising an eyebrow at his unusual lack of words, the girl handed him a small ceramic bottle, presumably filled with some sort of liquid, and made a hand gesture that said money bitch . Fumbling slightly, Feliks extracted the amount they'd previously agreed on, and handed over the coins. She took them, curling her fingers around them as she did so, before pocketing them.

Feliks drummed his fingers awkwardly on his leg, unsure of what to do next.

"So," he said slowly, stretching out the vowel. "How long have you lived on Aralos?"

The girl looked at him suspiciously. Of course, people on this planet probably wouldn't want to spill their life story to a stranger.

"Why do you want to know that?" she asked, voice edgy.

"Uhh," Feliks felt his cheeks heat up. Idiot. "I was just curious. You seem interesting."

The girl blinked at him as though she had never had such a thing said to her. Her gaze hardened, obviously believing he was trying to coerce her into something.

"Get out."

"Yes ma'am." He responded before turning on his heel and leaving.

Well, that had not gone well.

Carlotta leant back, gazing up at the pale sky. One would think that an eternal fire-pit of a planet like Aralos would be, at the least, clear skied. But no, the planet had displayed monotonous greys and creams as it's default sky colour. Perhaps it was something in the atmosphere, or perhaps every part of the planet was just actively trying to kill its inhabitants with depression. Whichever it was, Carlotta was beginning to get sour, and she had been here only a few days. No wonder the locals were so bitter and reclusive.

"Lotte!" she turned as she heard her nickname being called. Tino was jogging over the red dirt road toward her. She grinned at him. Tino was fitting in well here already. Though he originated from a cold region of Rywan, he dealt with extreme environments very well. He seemed, also, to have developed a strong liking of the loose, sand coloured robes worn by visitors and locals alike. His own uniform was similar, though it was white and more form-fitting than these robes were.*

He reciprocated the grin as he came close enough to talk to her.

"I finally found you! Do you have any idea how long I was wandering around town looking?"

Lotte grinned.

"Sorry, I wanted to get a feel for the area." Tino waved it off.

"It's alright. Anyway, we're leaving."

"What?" Lotte said, startled.

"We're leaving, in about half an hour actually. We got an epistle. Apparently, the intel was wrong. The cruiser was headed to Aramons, on Pyndaph, not Aralos. We'd have long missed them."

Carlotta's shoulders sagged.

"You're kidding! So the mission's off, then?"

Tino nodded.

"Yup. No point in us staying on Aralos or wasting more fuel chasing them. We'll get back to Nyma, and be reassigned, from what I've heard."

"Damn it." Carlotta cursed. All this time, and they hadn't been anywhere near their target. Tino sighed, evidently empathising with her. "Let's just get off this planet then. I don't want to have to spend any more time here than is absolutely necessary." Tino nodded in agreement, before holding his arm out in a mock gesture. Carlotta knew it was a mock gesture because of two things. One, Tino never would bother with formalities like this for a friend. And two, Tino had absolutely no interest in girls. Carlotta merely grinned and accepting with an overly flamboyant gesture and a wide, shit-eating grin before the two moved off toward where their ship was docked.

Bibesti,
Rela,
16th Janwir

Lovino cursed as he moved his cramping legs. For the past 3 days he had been curled up tightly in the same position, and his joints screamed in agony as he moved around. Gritting his teeth when he heard approaching footsteps, Lovino flexed his fingers and shifted slightly, preparing for the inevitable face-off between him and an unsuspecting Relusian. Lovino had spent the past few days assessing what sort of security they could expect once they docked in Bibesti. From what he'd seen of the cargo being transported, none of it was truly valuable. It was mostly wild rice and some moderately common spices. Not to mention, compared to some of the other cargo ships coming to Bibesti - some of which held fine silks and precious stones in their thousands - this one was very low priority, meaning that, if Lovino was correct, he could expect no more than two or three guards searching for stowaways such as themselves. Three guards he could easily handle.

Lovino's hand drifted to his dagger as the telltale scrape of metal on it's frame met his ears. Light filled the dark cargo hold, and Lovino knew they had arrived. He heard a faint murmur of voices, but no one entered the hold. Smirking slightly, Lovino crept silently to the door. A guard was posted maybe 3 metres from the entry ramp, and another stood about 5 times that distance away, near the steps leading down to the rest of the docking bays.

They were the only two around, and both seemed half asleep, obviously not happy about being there.

This would be easy.

Lovino slunk silently from the ship, moving down the sloped metal ramp as quietly as possible. He was barefoot, as he'd pulled his shoes off in the ship and given them to his brother for safekeeping, and his bare feet were soundless on the grated material. As silently as possible, he straightened up from his half-crouched position and grabbed the guard's head. Shoving his hand over the mouth of the now wildly-writhing guard, Lovino pulled his dagger from its sheath and pushed the sharp metal into the man's throat. Warm, pulsing flesh enveloped his fingers as he pushed it deeper, and hot blood gushed all over his hand and wrist. Lovino pushed and pushed, letting the blade cut effortlessly through skin, muscle and tendons, until he heard the familiar grating noise of metal on bone. Retracting his now-drenched hand, Lovino lay the body on the ground, praying the blood didn't spill too far. He still had to lead Feli out of here, and didn't want his younger sibling being scarred by the sight.

Now bending his back again, Lovino approached the second guard. This one, however, had better hearing than his fellow, heard the faint noises of movement, and turned around. In an instant, the guard took in the sight of a bloodstained Lovino, the knife clutched in his hand, and the body of his comrade lying behind him. Eyes widening, the guard attempted to move back.

He had better hearing than the other man, it was true. But it wasn't that much better. Before the man had time to take more than a few steps back, Lovino's dagger was buried hilt-deep in his carotid artery. He let out a loud gurgling noise, forcing Lovino to stuff his bloodied fist into his mouth to stop the noise while he held him in a headlock. When the second guard had finally stopped moving, and he had lain his body down on the ground, Lovino pulled the man's water canteen from his belt and used the water to wash most of the blood off his knife and hands. He dropped the now-empty container next to his body. He hesitated a moment, listening intently for any footsteps.

There weren't any, meaning that these two had been the only guards after all. They would be discovered soon enough, meaning that Lovino and Feliciano had to hurry. Making his way quickly back to the ship, Lovino rapped the dagger twice on the metal hull of the ship - the signal that it was clear. Feli approached happily, glad once again that his older brother was safe. Before he could see outside, however, Lovino stopped him and put his clean hand over his younger brother's eyes.

"Lovi?" Feli exclaimed, looking disoriented. "What are you doing?"

"Shush, we need to leave. I'll lead you, don't worry."

Lovino felt Feli frown against his hand, but his younger brother, thankfully, didn't question it.

"Okay."

Pulling him hurriedly down a small side alley made of old shipping containers, Lovino hurried his brother away from the murder scene. He waited until they were at least 200 metres away to remove his hand. Feli blinked a little, and immediately began gazing around at the Relusian landscape. The city of Bibesti, from what they could see, was filled with obelisks. Syhvva used to have obelisks just like them.

Pushing down the inexplicable surge of grief that rose in his chest with that thought, Lovino grabbed his brother's hand and continued pulling him southward, toward the city.

Mauriti Settlement,
Vyls Desert,
Aralos,
20th Janwir

Feliks rubbed his now stinging cheek, wishing that Aralosians weren't so temperamental.

He supposed, if it was him, he wouldn't want a strange foreigner following his everywhere, asking incessantly for their name because they fancied him. Well, actually, yes, he would like that a lot, but the dark haired girl standing in front of him didn't seem to appreciate it. He couldn't help it though. He'd been mildly fascinated with her ever since she'd helped out with Alfred's gastrointestinal dilemma, and he found it amazing that someone like her, clearly from a planet far from this one, still lived and had adapted to life on a planet like this so effectively.

Also, fuck him, but he fancied her.

And so, for the past few days, he had passed the time by seeking her out in the small town and attempting to strike up conversation. Sometimes, he had succeeded, and actually learnt a few things about her. Other times, she had just ignored him or swore at him to go away.

He had, however, never been slapped by her before.

She was currently glaring at him, though she now looked a little wary and cautious. He was, after all, taller than her, though he did not know if her could say in confidence that he was stronger. She definitely had a far fiercer spirit than he did himself. Feliks blinked a little, trying to figure out how deal with this situation.

Though he had been in many difficult predicaments before, he couldn't say that he had ever been faced with an angry Aralosian girl with a mean backhand. That was definitely a new experience.

He met her gaze.

"You, ma'am, have an excellent backhand."

Whatever she was expecting him to say, it clearly wasn't that. Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him a moment before she began to look seriously confused. She stared at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious, and, when she saw that he was, facepalmed.

"You are fucking crazy."

Feliks shrugged, having been told so many times that the sentence had begun to lose all meaning.

"I know."

The girl kept staring, and then started laughing. It wasn't a short, sharp laugh, either. It was a genuine, amused laugh. Feliks, amazed and glad that he had been able to make the girl create such a sound, surreptitiously high-fived himself while she wasn't looking. Eventually, her laughs died down, and, shaking her head in wonder, smiled at him.

"You are one determined guy, I'll give you that. It's been, what? Five days? Since you first asked my name?"

Feliks nodded, smiling slightly.

She sighed, though the smile remained on her face.

"Tori." she said, "It's Tori, so please, stop stalking me."

"Tori." Feliks tested out the name. It definitely suit her. "A pretty name for an even prettier girl."

"Fuckwit." she responded, though he could have sworn her cheeks were slightly redder than they were before.

"It's Feliks, actually." he said, making her laugh again.

"Alright," she said, looking at him with a newfound curiosity on her face as she picked up the hemp bag she'd dropped pre-slap. "Feliks, I'll see you later." Tori turned and began making her way toward the centre of Mauriti.

Oh, he was definitely looking forward to it.

I couldn't help adding in a little bit of PolLiet at the end :D

* = Think the sniper robes of Finnish soldiers in the Winter War of 1939-1940. They're my inspiration for Tino's sniper uniform.

Janwir = January

I hope you guys liked this! Please give me feedback. Sometimes the only way I'm able to motivate myself to write again is by reading the reviews of fans, so please tell me what you think!

This story is also available on Archive Of Our Own, if you prefer to read there.