Sunlight filtered through the rusty, metallic iron bars of the high and proud gate. A black iron serpent snaked around the lock of the rusted barrier, its mouth wide open with its fiery tongue protruding like a curved horn. Its beady black eyes hid themselves from the intervention of light known as the sun. Its scaled body wrapped around a kanji character for north, the old blackish word's legs long withered past. The dark letters were barely visible against the gate of pointed heads, a million arrows as a lookout.
Zack sighed tiredly, despite the fact he had not done anything at all. He rocked himself playfully against the North Serpent's gate, the ancient metal rattling and clanging in protest. He sat idly against the metal bars digging into his back, its lustrous coldness of the gate's ribs cooling him to a somewhat inactive laziness. Trees of crooked pride posed seductively, hoping to catch the nonexistent breezes with their pleading, jagged hands. Their thick limbs remained stationary; their thin, smaller branches like streak after streak of wooden lightning that remained silent during a storm, if such a thing were to ever exist. It was funny, really. How could that one thick body of wood become a million; if ever so needed, bodies? It seemed surreal that such a thing could exist.
The hot, comforting yet sloth bringing sun breathed warmly against Zack's skin, as if to approach him and him only, loving him just a tad too much. It was a day of excitement. A day of looking forward to the future that was only a step away, not a day of slothful leisure. Nonetheless, it was hot. The sky was cloudless, and the sun had all the space it needed to smile, from ear to ear. No angels sailed the sapphire ozone today; no, for today, everyone wished their goodbyes and kept their waving hands at their sides.
"It's been five days since that glass girl showed up," Zack muttered in his mustered laziness, the hissing hot sun giving him the least excitement. Perspiration acted a paste for him and his clothes. His body was so hot – so, so hot. It was burning, actually, burning under that white shirt. That white shirt that had nothing else underneath, and those long shorts, those long shorts that let his legs breathe. So, so hot. And whoever thought white warded away heat.
It remained a fair afternoon, the sun high in the sky, its decision of a hot day taken to a much too far extent. Birds twittered happily as they nestled onto limb after limb, playing an innocent game of hide and seek with their young. The arid day seemed to come pass with the lowest definition of slow possible. Birds twittered anyway, ignoring the hot spherical god, having the time of their lives; playing their day off, if you will. "I need a rest," Zack said, his breath hot and dry. He brought a hot hand with baked fingers to his forehead to wipe beads of sweat, of hot blistering sweat. "Not a rest from fighting, just, a rest," he continued, wondering if Derek was really listening to him. "I miss that comfy bed with cool pillows. I miss the Inner World. I don't want to be here, I really don't. It's too much work."
Derek sculpted a tightened face, hiding the disapproval behind his handsome, dark eyes. He stood coolly against the soft bark of a tree, its prickly body stabbing him ever so lightly with an invisible coolness. The shade of a nearby tree provided him with a body without sweat. In fact, for him, it was a pretty brisk day as he stood there, arms crossed meanly as he watched his teammate in the lazy, unwanted leisure. "A life of a Minor isn't a life of rest and royalty," Derek explained. Zack just knew that a lecture had to be in the way. "We put our lives on the line for the better good. Furthermore, as minor beings, we are treated as trash. It's a life of hard work. It's not too different than human society," Derek lectured.
The brown haired seventeen year old yawned. His exasperated, tiresome yawn made Derek somewhat drowsy as well. This was easily hidden behind his secretive features. "Whatever," Zack muttered without interest, his mind completely blank, his brain cooked behind his forehead. "When's Kawari and Dylan coming back from scouting?" he asked in a desperate need of a change in subject. The invisible stench of metallic rust lingered in the air as he rocked himself once more, the gate fingers now as hot as Zack's body. Their coldness had been drained away; the young teenager finding no need for them anymore. Yet, he was too lazy too move. Too heated to lift a finger.
"When they do," Derek answered scornfully. A breeze full of hope for the trees and the two waiting Minors bristled by, but all hope was lost as it left them to be, giving them only a second – no, not even a second's worth of enjoyment. Yes, the trees had begun to sway happily, their green heads of patience cheering for more of the cool, enlightening refreshment. However, the more they wished, the more real not having it would become. Kawari's been with us for a while, Derek thought suspiciously. His eyes locked hard on the grassy floor. The shady blades of green picked up no signs of wind either, splotches of dirt showing from the underside of the layer of grass. Birds whispered a gossiping secret to one another as they watched Derek from their wooden peaks, watching the seventeen year-old boy cross his arms meanly and think heavily, his black, straight hair like a perfect forest of its own, like mad thorns of a rose that tapped into his anger. If just a tap gave them such a perfect, black color like that, the birds thought of the wonders it could do if it took all of it in. Why does he keep following us around? Doesn't he have somewhere to go? Derek asked himself, troubling his own good health with someone else's. The black haired boy sighed tiredly, loosening his grip on his crossed forearms as he got more and more used to the coolness of the shade, the comfort slowly leaving him in seeps of a second.
Zack stirred uneasily. The gate rattled threateningly. "I need to –"
"If you're going to tell me what I think you are, then stop right there," Derek interrupted the white clothed Minor, who flashed an uneven stare of puzzlement and daze. "Idiot. Don't tell me something like that," Derek changed his tone, belittling the brown haired boy with his insults of no meaning. "Go behind the bushes." Birds twittered gleefully as they laughed at the humans, thinking over and over again of what idiots humans were, reminding themselves time after time of their stupidity, causing them to fall on their backs and burst out laughing until their stomachs popped and their eyes refused to open.
Zack's stare lowered. "I can't…." he answered weakly and dully. The tone of his voice was completely drained, if you could call it a tone. Now, you could sense that even the trees began to snicker uncontrollably, just barely holding it in like a six year old boy at the mall with his mother, frantically playing with his feet up and down, up and down like a see-saw as he tightly wrapped his tiny, indecent fingers around the woman's impatient, pleading hand. "I'm too tired to move," Zack explained with a soft, sloth voice. He lay on his back against the gate in a slump now, his eyes looking like they were about to doze off into a summer weather's hibernation. The thirst of clouds, or anything of interest for that matter, soon became a need.
Derek sighed from bother again. His crossing of arms released themselves from the lock they put themselves in. His back slouched and his somewhat narrowed eyes closed themselves, tired of hearing – or more like watching Zack speak his lame, selfish excuses. "Fine," Derek muttered lowly, deciding that he had enough. The black dressed Minor walked in a reluctant motion to the backside of another tree. There, he felt the minimized rays of sunlight caress the side of his face with warmth, warmth that he didn't need, neither did he want. As he closed his eyes, hiding his intolerance for his teammate, he wished the idiot to finish, and also, wishing he wouldn't hear the sounds of a soft watering against grass. He strained at his forehead, grinding his teeth together as he found the power of ignorance for his fellow Minor. He kept himself busy. That's what he wanted to do.
PoVS
Three blurs brushed through the forest, knocking over its features of withering grass blades and dead bulbs of flowers as three pairs of feet stomped past. They neared their destination, feeling the hot sun against their faces, forcing their thin arms to their forehead to cap themselves. Birds playing a round of tag fluttered their wings against a bright, patent sky. Their silent wings were blazing, every tiny organism that lived in the forest was sure of it. Hot faces panted as heavy steps crumbled orange, brown, and red leaves into unacknowledged crannies. Not a nook of cloud placed itself in the sky. Nope, not even a tiny puff to show today.
With a halt, one of the trio blurs stopped in his tracks, showing himself to the eyes of blind trees, the closed eyes of the grass, and the turned heads of the birds. Noticing his action, the two blurs stopped as well, the only two pair of eyes skilled enough to watch him. "I think it's about time I can take these off," a blonde haired, eyes like golden, jeweled candies named Rick told his teammates. He brought a hot, scorching hand to his mouth and bit the mummifying bandages off it, his two teammates watching him as the strips of white fell to the floor like party streamers ripped in half, a delicate slow snowfall to the ground.
When he was done, the blonde examined his hand, feeling the slight coolness of the outside change the feeling of his hand. The blistered palm and fingers showed red scratches all over, like tiny embellishments caused by something completely unknown to the human world and its intelligent, arrogant society. Pleased to have the freedom of outside yet pain still beating like a heart, the hand seemed to cry out to Rick, wishing him to make the pain go away, as if he knew how.
Rick sighed at the sight, deciding that there was nothing he could do about it as the hand was slowly brought back down to his side. He watched the two teammates and searched the approval in their eyes. Not only did he search for it, but he found it – grasped it, and handled it to make it his own.
"Perfect timing," the silver haired Lance said softly in his always friendly tone. "We're finally here," he told his two teammates. He turned, feeling the bright sun hot against their backs, baking up another batch of perspired paste of annoyance. The three teenagers found their gaze upon the eastern gate and the sun's origin, its rusty, thorny pikes at the top a symbol of no escape. A symbol of forever. A forever that would never last, or so the Minors hoped. The kanji symbol of east was in the beady, pearly eye of a black dragon, its fangs showing themselves as the enlarged statue's body whorled around the gate's center. Its tongue seemed to lick the underside of its head, a black, rounded, perfect black pearl embedded into it, a daredevil dragon it was. "That technique is too dangerous," Lance warned Rick, his eyes turned away from him, somewhat avoiding contact.
Rick found his gaze fall upon Lance's clothed back; and he knew that Lance knew his stare was hard on it, a parasite that wouldn't let go. "You shouldn't use it too much," Lance informed in a calm, cool voice. Rick nodded, and he knew that Lance knew that he nodded, too. A mind reader was he, as well as a brilliant one. Lance suddenly began to stumble downward in pain, as if calling Rick to help him up. The blonde immediately went to his assistance, and carefully brought the silver eyed boy to his feet once again. "Sorry," Lance apologized quietly.
"Its fine," Rick answered. "Are you all right? Sorry if…" He trailed off.
"No, its fine," Lance repeated Rick's words. The two smiled.
Moments later, the three found themselves getting themselves comfortable around the gate, waiting for the next and final day for the Council to pick them up and rescue them from this miserable place. The blackish metal gate was built from a lake. The murky water spread towards outside and parts of the inside as well. Marissa found herself sitting on a jagged rock, feeling the uncomfortable stabbing of the cragged rock against her skin. She ignored it just as fair, just as she was ignored for most of the week. But she didn't blame them. Throughout those last five days, she did nothing, watching their backs as they did all the work. When they set up camp, she was the one to watch electric sparks fly high into the sky as the fire became alive. When they went to sleep, she was the one that went to sleep against the tree's crooked body first. When they went scouting, she was the only one who remained, claiming that her legs were too tired from running as she sat on the dirt ground, wondering when they would come back, and stop wasting their time scouting. Wasting their time – that's what she had thought it was. Only that she knew little of the waste of time she was being to them.
She sighed in dread as she dipped her feet coolly into the brownish blue waters. The lake was clam, and the gate was only a fair amount of feet away, easily visible from where she sat. She did not care for the dirtiness that could dwell in the water; she just needed a calming feeling, no matter how dirty it was. This was a first sacrifice of many she would have to make. The hot sun baked the back of her neck, filtering through the silky wave of her blonde-brown hair. Her feet swayed in the water, her toes combing the dirty water as she felt a cool sensation enter her from the feet. It was calming, she had to admit. But it was a letdown that calming things did not solve your problems in this world. What use were they really? What use was she, really? As she continued to fluster herself with her uneven thoughts that just didn't match, the murky waters underneath swayed along with her, and a dark, slender body zoomed past, a trail of bubbles to leave behind.
PoVS
Teresa sat in the tall grass against the gate. The long and thin grassy blades were almost as tall as her as she sat, folding her legs in front of her as she wrapped her arms around her knees. Calm breezes played with her hair, a childhood toy worth remembering. Her violet streaks were left uncared for as she stared blankly into space, lost in her own thoughts, half her face masked in a protective seat she put herself in. Tall weeds of grass wanted to claw at the gate behind her, and she – being the more paranoid one of the group would always, always stay by the gate. Always? No, maybe not always. But many times out of many more. A vermillion bird was topped at the center middle of the ebony gate. Its wings spread out wide and proud, its head cocked up not only its chest but jealousy of other observers; the kanji symbol of south was portrayed on its broad chest. Its tiny beak showed little threat, but its hurtful glare was as demonic as a dragon's hungry teeth, or a snake's venomous tongue slithering in and out of its lips almost half transparently, a wave of red barely ever seen. Its crooked hands took its place on the gate, and made itself noticed to the world. An important feat indeed.
Five days of thinking, Teresa thought, crammed into her own solitary ball of thoughts. Five days of thinking, and nothing to show for it. Teresa took a big whiff of the air to check, to make sure. She was not pleased. Nor was she scared. That smell of blood and that eerie presence is bothering me, she told herself. What does it mean? Suddenly, images of the past replayed in her mind. Images of growling, demonic teeth showing their deviance of hunger behind a crooked, disgraced mask. Images of a bloodied blade, or was it axe? A bloodied weapon with a blade, to say the least. Images of death everywhere, and a full, or was it crescent, moon of night. A settling mist that thickened in the air with suspense, chilling your beads of sweat into frozen anxiety. And most importantly, the bodies. The hundreds of dead bodies. That was something she could never forget.
Teresa backed up against the gate, the metal ribs telling her that she could no longer escape and avoid her problems, her thoughts, her memories, and her past. The arms of weedy grass tried to comfort her and caress her lips, her face, her cheeks, maybe a nick to an ear. No success. No comfort. She curled up even more, if possible, to some extent, into a tiny, miniature ball, hoping that, unlike the bird proud on the gate's peak, she would remain a tiny, small dot in the face of society, a minimized sensation that would always remain at the bottom of the undergrowth, of the gate of destiny. She hoped that she became so small, not even fate itself could see, and find her.
PoVS
Daniel stood in the clearing of the large area of grass. He peered to the right, his emerald eyes moving slowly and meticulously, as if they were feet of themselves stepping through a million fragile cracks that were ready to fall and crumble to his doom. Then, even more carefully, they slid to the left, examining each and every detail as carefully as he could. His red hair somewhat got in the way, but as if he commanded it, the wind whisked it away for him. Only a second did the wind work for him, but only a second was needed. His glasses were low on his nose, ready to fall, but he, being the more focused one did not care like he usually did.
Movement? Daniel noticed as he quickly slid his emerald gaze to the right as fast as he could, blinking for just a fraction of a second. Panic gave him a sudden shock, only to sink away to the depths of his own emotion a half a second later. No, a squirrel. A squirrel seven meters north east, and a falling of an acorn and leaf ten meters south and fifteen meters southwest. He sighed; glad there was no presence of an enemy for a while. He took another calming breath, and went back to scouting.
PoVS
"Tomorrow, we finally get to leave," Mark said as he dropped to the ground, putting two leisurely hands behind his head. He closed his eyes, bringing himself out of reality as he sighed; a goodbye sigh for his metal presence would not be there for a while. The hot sun brightened against his face, as if smiling with him for his rest, rocking him motionlessly to sleep with invisible hands that didn't exist. The hands rocked the spirit, that's why, and not the physical body.
"Yeah," Walter commented, staring off into the forest. He didn't ever seem to make eye contact when he spoke. And whenever he did, whenever one of those rare occasions stopped by to wave hello, the eyes were always mean and narrow, as if he had high expectations of you, needs and wants of high levels that he wanted from you, that only you could give him. This was his pleading. This was a loner's pleading. Walter sat leisurely as well, his elbow supported by his protruding ankle as he sat on the ground, feeling a whisky, cool air finger through his three strands of hair, as well as the full head of it behind it. We've only fought two enemies so far, Walter thought, reminding himself. Will we be able to handle another?
Sounds of impact and punching against wood burst Walter out of his thoughts. Slowly and patiently, the brunette turned his head to find Eric fighting. However, an enemy fight this was not. This was a practice battle, a battle against the trunk of a stationary tree. Yes, this was training. Walter scoffed as he brought himself up to his feet.
I won't lose to this guy, he told himself as he walked towards a nearby tree as well, and beginning to work on his own style. Shadows of trees wavered by as the sun was hot, breathing against their faces, their necks. Eric acknowledged Walter with a second's glance. Walter smiled, but didn't look.
From the shadows far away in the trees, the trees that were the only ones that seemed to block away the sunlight, a pair of dark, pleading eyes watched the three. "Pain," a croaky voice spoke. "The debt of pain…" the voice rasped quietly, so quiet and low that the Minors could not hear. He made sure of it. "…has not been paid," the voice sounded demonically, its eyes narrowing to mean, grudged triangles, black, deviant eyes staring off to the clearing where the Minors paid no attention to their surroundings.