"War: more often than not, may require us to take a fresh perspective."

He watched him; just toddling there on the little play mat, batting at the brightly coloured ships and shapes hovering almost dreamilly around his head; connected by loosely elasticated chords. Blissful, contented...happy.

Aerrow was happy.

And it bothered Ace that he could be.

Here he was: Living in the centre of a battle ground--aboard a flying Talon's target; a place of danger, fear and almost constant injury, yet, the most important thing buzzing around his simplistic little mind right now was which pretty-coloured ball to make the tiny toy skimmer bounce off of.

It was almost offensive.

Slowly; the fifteen year old snaked himself off of the couch and found himself crouching amongst repulsively soft pastel-colours and torterously illuminated plastic things--within the babyish squalor that was, essentially; Aerrow's domain.

And the tot appeared to take no heed at the apparrant invasion. He wasn't aware of the fact that Ace had littered his little area by setting down his drink's can, nor did he bother to take note of the fact that his uncle was studying, with little common interest, one of his favourite toys.
No. Ignorance was bliss.

"Why are we still warring?"

Taken slightly aback; the Sky Knight glanced up from behind his coffee cup "Hm?"

"You know, us," he droned; flipping the toy over to examine the base of it "The Talons, Cyclonia," he leaned back openly on his right hand, glancing over into the partially tired green eyes of his commander "What's up with that?"

Wry lips curled into an obligated smile "What're you talking about Acey?" his coffee was placed politely atop the table as the red-head ran a conforming hand through his rather unruly hair "The talons are just, basically; bad people. And we have to defend the skies from them."

"But I thought you said Sky-Knights had to protect everyone?" despite the natural deepening his voice had taken over the course of a year--there was still that prominent element of, really quite young openness to it that had first and probably always would define Ace as the 'kid' of the squad,

"Well we are, ofcourse we are," Rook's neck appeared to raise atop his shoulders as he took a light step closer to him "We're defending those who need it from the talons"

"But...s'pose they don't know they're bad?" by this time Aerrow had given up on crashing balls into Skimmers and was busy entertaining himself by chewing on the wing of his little fighter-plane carrier; gurgling all the while about nothing in particular, one could suppose.

"What dya mean? Ofcourse they're bad," the adult felt himself unintentionally snort "Anyone who goes into Cyclonia and comes out perfectly fine is obviously bad,"

"Why?" his head turned further over towards the elder one; left arm long since smothering itself and the toy within his lap "I mean, they have a terra too, like the Sky-Knights do, well..." he rolled his eyes at the obvious rouge nature of the Condor itself, shaking his head all the same to clear the question "What makes us so different from them?"

"Easy," the rather deep-ended take-out cup was lifted from the table "Cyclonians don't have Sky Knights, they have rulers; dictators." The red-head took a deep, indulgent gulp as he allowed a thoughtful frown to grace his features "One person. One government. Hell of a lot of anarchy on our hands."

"But what's wrong with just one person?" The eldest in the room sighed; giving the young boy an empathetic stare as he shifted where he sat "I mean, wouldn't it be more organized? A little more structured? I mean Rook, you saw what happened when--"

"Ace," the boy was snapped out of his curious wanderings almost as quick as he'd delved into them; but he felt himself giving a frown of sombre confirmation when he saw those boots; those items that he'd first identified as a source of authority steadilly advance towards him "What's with all the questions, eh?"

Crimson irises found themselves sparkle under the glare of mid-noon sunlight; slowly rolling down and away to spy his nephew's toy that'd long since fallen from his grasp and into the void of his crossed legs "I just...I think it's kinda..." his side teeth clicked lightly in thought as he began to close his lips back mouth over in half-hearted dejection. He shook his head; eyes dimming like lanterns at under the suffocating shroud of the night.

"Kinda...?" Rook pressed on gently, kneeling down to crouch beside his trainee co-pilot; his head tilting in gentle confusion.

Truth be told; the man had found it difficult as of late to clamp a hand over such questionings; practically every day the young one noticed something or saw fit to point out little tidbits of awe or amazement. He'd found it...refreshing to be honest; curious: As much as he found his baby son learning and growing about the safe confines that housed him, he'd found that Ace had ran himself around in circles just pondering how the moon moved the terras back and forth. Such impossible questions he seemed to think that the squad would just automatically hold all forms of answers to; if he was supressing something...actually biting his tongue so to speak... Rook could only assume that it must have taken one hell of alot of brain power to unsurface this extent of his imagination.

"Kinda...Dumb."

"Dumb?"

"I mean, it's just...nevermind." Out of the corner of his eye; could see him fondling the polished, plastic coating of, upon further inspection, could be seen as one of Aerrow's carrier ships; one of the old, forgotten ones that the baby didn't appear to have much time to pay attention to--the worn one with the scar running up and down the varnishings.

"Lemme ask ya something," the eldest's breath heaved slightly as he took his charge gently under his arms and coaxed him upwards; spinning him around gently before firmly clamping his hands around Ace's side; pinning his wrists lightly to his sides "You planning to steal my skimmer any time soon?"

He blinked down in surprise at the leader's question; brow furrowing defensively with a tense...he could feel veins bulking out beneath his arms as his grip tightened dangerously over Aerrow's little ship--his eyes once again sparking anew "No,"

"You planning to ride out to terrorize any nearbye villages?" Rook gently pressed; staring him right in the eye "To kidnap the children, rape the women, slaughter the men like livestock?"

"No!" the teenager wanted to squirm; to break free and back away from this man: to scream out all manners of accusations and protests. But he bit it down, bit it all back down; storing them in the cavities behind his throat, under tongue.

Rook kept a firm grip over his brother's wrists; being careful to shelter the nimble texture of bony frailty ,"And are you planning to go to Cyclonia any time soon?"

"No!" He felt his gaze narrow down dangerously as his jaw clinched itself together at the joints. He straightened further as his irises spiralled to focus in on the sight of the man before him.

"So," Rook nodded; fiery hair basking against the soft orange afterglow of the early evening rays "You still think it's dumb by any chance?"

A raven haired head lowered as he slowly slacked his grip on the tiny toy in his palms; his lips pursed sullenly before tearing his gaze away from the passive green irises before him--daring not to peak any further into their experience. "Acey?" his brother continued to softly chide; walking him just a little closer to him "You still know what you wanna do?"

"You still gonna teach me the lightning claw tomorrow?" his head reared quite suddenly; eyes reflecting a refreshed, oddly cleansed sense of being--face smoothed in honest curiosity.

Another well-meaning roll of the eyes; courteousy of the now straightening leader,

"Sure, we'll try working up to that," vaguely; Ace felt himself trying, and failing for the moment, to duck a well-meaning tousle of his hair "That alright with you?"

"Yeah 'Kay," he shrugged casually as he began to carefully toss the little toy back and forth from palm to palm--allowing a soft curl of the corner of his lips to grace his momentarilly smoothed features; much to the light-hearted bemusement of the exiting adult.

His face narrowed once more, however, when he felt a familiar tugging at the base of his ankle; punctuating by an ever-irritating chorus of whining. Glancing down; he could see Aerrow reaching quite desperately now for the little figure that the older boy held within his palms "You want it?" he mumbled rather coarsely; shrugging it away as he let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud, before prying himself forcefully away from the soft, overly-cushioned area.

Pastel paint scuffing against the metal floors of the ship; Aerrow could only let out a startled cry of denial when he saw the upper-torso of the ship's little rider snap in half; bouncing away from it's former mount of glory and into the dusty crevices that lurked just beneath the Condor's homely couch.

tbc.