Yet A(nother) A/N: So here we are: Chapter 3 (well, 2 officially) at last! Academia has gotten me jumping through hoops left and right, but I still managed to find time for the fandom. Again, I'd like to thank each and every wonderful person who's left a review; they're so encouraging, and to repeat offenders, Rowena and Rydia, that kudos goes double for you. I write out of personal love for the genre, but knowing it's appreciated just puts the icing on the cake.

Anywho… LOOK, FINALLY, A PLOT! … that is, if you squint hard and tilt your head just right. Either way, I had a lot of fun with this chapter (despite the inevitable late-night errors, which will be corrected), so, without further ado… onwards and upwards!

…

… Blood. There was blood everywhere.

It was strewn in all directions: a grotesque pattern of splotches and spatters and drags all neatly arranged just so like the step-by-step of an awful homicide. Mottled foot tracks, set and studded deeply in the earth, accented the scene like rubies on a necklace string—and through the haze of tears, of fog, of so many wild emotions reeling just beyond the tips of outstretched fingers, he could swear that those ruby pocks were shining.

It took every ounce of self-restraint within Lloyd not to groan at the recollection, settling instead for a quick massage at his pulsing temples. A thick and strangely inexplicable headache was still pounding fiercely behind them, but seconds were precious, and slipping away quickly. He had no time for pointless things now.

Destroying the exsphere payload had been routine enough. There were twelve in all; he made sure to count (and then recount) on more than one occasion, and it had taken exactly twelve swings of his blade to dispatch them. Only the first strike was difficult, really. Once he convinced himself that they were just rocks— pure, simple and soulless— the rest had came with detached ease.

Only when he stopped to think did it feel like murder… so he didn't.

The fragments had all but dissolved into the wind, and those too large to drift away were buried with mechanical efficiency beyond the city walls. From there he returned to the inner limits, stopping just briefly to purchase replacements on the path toward 'home'. The sky had only started to blush red when he arrived, passing through the Inn and making a sharp beeline for their—no, for his room. Colette, after all, had yet to return.

… All for the better, he figured. Her presence would only make him hesitate.

He made sure that the door was firmly closed and immediately set to work, unhitching and discarding his suspenders on the floor. His sheaths were next to go—this time hung with a bit more care over the corner bed railing— with boots following in quick succession. Unthreading the white scarf from the collar, fussing against a stuck trouser-button and meticulously detaching every stud along the seams of the over-shirt…

He felt uncomfortably vulnerable then and hastened, tugging and buttoning the new attire until it was all settled properly into place. This particular Inn was relatively small (so far as the countless Inns of Meltokio went, at least), but there were still a few choice luxuries scattered throughout the room— like the polished mirror on the far wall, for example, which he promptly used to inspect himself.

It was surprise how unlike himself he looked, staring off at the reflecting pool for a solid minute before it registered that yes, this stranger was Lloyd Irving… somehow.

He seemed taller than he remembered being, and less heroic. Perhaps it was the fact that he had chosen such plain clothing to wear; a collared shirt of purplish- gray and barely-darker trousers were hardly impressive in themselves, let alone compared to the discards on the floor.

Rather than replace his swords at either hip, he decided to fashion a quick cross-strap from his old belts and carry them at his back instead. The boots were pulled on next, worn beneath his pants this time, and lastly…

"…'Might as well," he mumbled to no one in particular, cinching the clasp and tucking it under his collar. Finished at last, he turned towards the window, staring off glazedly into the red-gold sky…

Click. Click. Trip squeak giggle.

The sound of approaching footsteps: footsteps that belonged to none other than Colette Brunel, the ever cheerful, ever clumsy, ever naïve Chosen girl.

"I'm back!" Her voice carried through the door like a song. "You should have stayed a little longer, Lloyd; they have really delicious o—"

… But then it creaked open, and the song silenced.

"L-Lloyd?..."

The room was empty and pristine, but with a difference. A familiar looking set of clothes were laying on the bed, neatly folded and stacked in a way that seemed completely unlike usual. It was boggling for a moment… but then she spotted the open window, and knew.

Her eyes glazed over in disbelief, and for a time she stood just stood there in the doorway, perfectly, unbudgingly still. It was as if her brain refused to compute the information. What was he?… WHY was he?...

It just… didn't make any sense…

"You…" she mumbled bleakly. "You really… weren't listening to me at all, were you?..."

…

"… Rain."

"Hmm?"

"I think it's going to rain soon.," Genis observed. "The air pressure feels different than before."

"Really now?" answered (the plainly distracted) Raine Sage, her elegant nose barely a hair's width from the ruin walls— inevitably studying some insignificant detail or another in the ruin wall, just as she had been for the past six hours. "Well, I'm certain this won't take much longer—"

… So she said three hours ago, the latter sibling thought with a grimace, but wisely bit his tongue. The last thing Genis needed now was a pounding headache, courtesy of her fist, to make the experience even less pleasant.

Then again, he figured, things could have been worse. Sans an occasional squeal of Marvelous! or Fascinating! in the backdrop (which he was more than used to), the caverns of Asgard were pleasantly quiet, and sitting near the tunnel's mouth gave him just enough light to read under comfortably. Theories of Juxtaposition in Elemental Mana was the current book of choice: an ancient looking thing covered in yellow age-stains, with a spine threatening to break whenever he turned the page. The smell of musty library was pleasant to him, like the bouquet of a fine wine.

"… What's so special about that picture you've been staring at, huh?" he asked, trying his best to sound interested in… whatever she'd been gawking at.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked!" Suddenly seeing the gleam in her eye, however, he wasn't glad at all. "The treatment of material is absolutely exquisite, but the subject matter is…"

"… Is what?" The hanging question threw Genis off guard for a moment. Raine didn't ever leave hanging questions.

"Well, come here and see."

Hesitantly dog-earing his book (the page would probably fall out later for that), he wandered over to where she had camped herself, peered over her shoulder at the so-called exquisite thing… and just stared, at a loss.

"… Stick figures and a big circle," he said flatly. "Looks like something Lloyd drew in art cla—" CRACK! "OW!"

"These are ancient cave paintings!" Raine reprimanded as she retracted her hand, only to point a warning finger at him. "The technical skill isn't what's important! Do you realize the significance of these images? This could be an enormous breakthrough in scientific and e—"

Another CRACK disrupted the conversation that moment, but far deeper and more resonant this time. Both of the Sage siblings recognized it immediately as thunder, and the smaller one sighed.

"I told you it was gonna rain," he mumbled (and earned himself another whack on the head). "And besides, it's getting dark out. We should head back for the night…"

"Oh, come now, I'm certain this won't take much longer—"

"Yeah, just like you said hours ago!" By the time he realized he'd snapped, it was too late. Genis let out a yip and clutched his head. He was finally at his wits' end. "Fine! I'll walk back by myself! Don't blame me if you get there and dinner's cold!"

"Genis!"

... In retrospect it had been a stupid idea to let such childish impulses get the better of him, really. None the less, off he went with a huff and a pout, feeling thoroughly annoyed (among other things) by his sister's ways. Was it really so hard to just stop and call it quits for the night? She'd been obsessing over those stupid pictures since they arrived in the city days ago!

With his precious book tucked safely under arm and hands shoved deep in his pockets, he made his way through the grass and cobble streets. The city had long since fallen into a sleepy sort of lull—just as it always did when the sky grew dark. A funny glow, not quite red but unlike true violet, stained the edges of the oncoming storm clouds. Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashed threateningly.

"… Maybe I was too hard on her," he found himself mumbling to nobody in particular, just speaking thoughts out loud. "I… I mean, it's been a while since we've seen any ruins and—"

Wait a minute, what was he saying?! Him, being too hard on her? She was the one who had hit him for acting responsibly! It was that stupid mania corrupting her judgment again!

"Just stop talking to yourself," he grumbled in frustration. "You're acting like a kid again…"

Around another corner, and down another street. With every step the world seemed to grow a little darker. Feeling the pick of a cold wind rushing past his cheek (the inevitable precursor to bad weather), Genis picked up the pace. If luck was on his side, he'd be able to beat the rain and—

Snap.

He froze suddenly, feeling a strange, incomprehensible something shoot up his spine. He could've sworn hearing a twig breaking under metal, but…

No, that wouldn't do at all. Childish fears were for children and he was not a child of any kind. Still… it couldn't hurt to be speed up a little—

Snap Crunch.

There it was again; his imagination was playing tricks on him. Just a little further and he would make it—

The pale half-elf wasn't aware that he had gasped, swearing to every spirit and goddess he knew of that something unusually dark had just flashed across his periphery vision… only to feel himself collide with a very real mass that enveloped him before he could even think to scream. A terrible knife-pointed pain exploded on the side of his head, and the world slipped away, like rainwater through his lifeless fingers.

…

"Well then, I'm off," Raine remarked to the empty air—or perhaps it was a farewell meant for her precious new ruins. The incessant thunder had (finally) convinced her to retire for the evening. Leaving her staff at the inn had been a wise choice; with both arms free, she could easily manage carting her entire stack of research in one trip! Oh, what a marvelous evening indeed!

Still, there was one nagging twinge of guilt she couldn't shake. It had been haunting her since Genis stormed off, only managing to stew and amplify in the seclusion of the caverns.

"Maybe… I was a little too hard on him," she found herself mumbling, and frowned inwardly. The rain was starting to come down now and her pace quickened accordingly; it would be a tragedy to lose her precious notes because of some silly weather spell.

And then, all of sudden, those precious notes ceased to matter, splashing to the ground in a puddle beside the remains of one sickeningly familiar age-stained book.

Raine Sage was a woman notorious for her maturity and control. She had never panicked in times of disaster before, just as she had never once screamed. It was simply something she didn't do, had never done, and never planned on doing. It was a pointless waste of energy with no possible benefit, she told herself, only serving to show weakness at unnecessary moments.

… And yet, staring at his frail little body, so still and cold and stiff as it lay face-down in a slowly-spreading pool of red water, Raine Sage began to think that maybe, just maybe, screaming wasn't so pointless after all.