Yassss, chapter four! This chapter explains a little bit more about our characters and their dialect, and more about Orbis as well. Also, the German and Italian used in this story can be typed into none other than Google translate (sorry! But it works!). Hope you guys like this!
Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows! Happy reading!
Unlike when he had first awoken, Scott opened his eyes to see moonlight pouring in through the window (or at least, an attempt at a window. It was actually just a square-shaped hole in the wall of gritty wood) and the darkness of night following suit. He groaned, rolled over, and reached blindly for his phone that he usually kept on his nightstand.
His hand froze as realization hit him, along with empty air. He wasn't home. He was in the middle of a damned forest sleeping on the thinnest damned mattress (if you could even call it that) on the planet with no actual damned idea of where he was.
Oh yeah, and his friends were here too. The best part was that they acted as if they didn't known him and had never seen him in their lives.
This was such a fucking amazing wake up call.
Snoring could be heard from the bed above him. Scott listened to it for a moment, before his brain offered him the events of the previous day to help him along; it was most likely Amethyst, somebody he had met yesterday, a delicate girl with purple eyes, white hair, and who solely speak German. She was new, like him. She also possessed healing powers, as she had soothed away a bit of his fatigue by holding his hand and singing a few words.
The baritone still couldn't grasp why he wasn't freaking out about that. He was probably still in shock.
He continued to listen to Amethyst's light snores. They reminded him of the way Mitch would snore if he slept a certain way, and how Scott would playfully tease him about it at Pentatonix rehearsal. His heart squeezed at the thought of the band. He had to get to them somehow.
But they were here. By some weird coincidence, they were here. At least Avi and Mitch were. And that made no sense whatsoever.
God, the blonde was so confused, he didn't even know if he was on Earth anymore. He was pretty sure that grass on Earth didn't glow, and that people didn't live in houses built on top of trees, and that people on Earth didn't have the power to heal with mere touch. And singing.
Scott didn't want to hear his own thoughts racing around his head any longer. He needed to get up. Get up and do something.
Carefully he eased himself from the paper-like sheets, praying that the floorboards weren't prone to creaking. The snoring did not stop, so Scott silently slipped his shoes on (only now noting that he had no clothes to wear besides the ones on his body), stretched and heard his shoulders pop, and then sighed as he made his way to the open doorway. Cool night air swept across his face, and he breathed it in, smelling pine and leaves and...something burning?
Scott peered from the doorway, stepping forward so he was balanced on the tiny porch. The tree that the one room house had been built on wasn't that tall but it faced the middle of the clearing. Smoke curled from the space in the center, drifting up to disappear into the sky. The tall man squinted harder. The sizable fire pit he had seen the day before while Avi guided him to the house of the leader was alight, a steady flame sizzling there. A person was standing near it, so dark they would've been invisible if the fire extinguished.
By a weird impulse (admittedly, he was just a bit curious), Scott quietly made his way down the ladder, trying his best not to slip, and hit the grass with a dull thud. He spent the next minute creeping up behind the figure, getting so close that they were only a few feet apart. So close that the blue-eyed man could feel the warmth of the crackling fire on his skin.
"Whoever you are, your tracking skills are seriously shitty."
Jumping six inches, Scott clutched a hand to his speeding heart and breathed heavily past the adrenaline spiking his energy level. If he hadn't been awake before he certainly was now. "I-I wasn't trying to sneak up on you."
"Really?" A high-pitched tone asked, clearly not believing him. "What were you doing, then?"
"Um..." The baritone didn't know what to say. "I was...observing you. From up close."
The dark figure turned around to look at him. It was Mitch, smiling that familiar smile, making Scott as warm as the fire made him feel. He was dressed differently than the last time they had met; instead of wearing a plain black shirt, jeans, and simple boots, the countertenor seemed dressed for a fight. An assassins coat hugged his slim body, the collar high and the color black, as every article of clothing here was. His jeans were now flecked with bits of dirt and grass, and the sides of his fresh pair of boots glinted with silver at their tops. A closer inspection proved that they were knives, wicked ones at that, sheathed and strapped to one side of each boot. But, though he looked quite good and impressive, the most noteworthy thing about his appearance was...
"Hi, zaffiro. You're up late." Mitch greeted. He gestured for the blonde to come closer, and he did so, but not without an uneasy glance at the absolutely giant sword that was sheathed across the brunette's back. To put it simply, it resembled the sword wielded by Impa from the Legends of Zelda series. Slightly frightening. How could someone so small fight with something that was so large?
It caught up to Scott whom he was talking to, and he immediately shied from his lost best friend. And tried not to become to wary of all of the sharp things that were attached to said lost best friend. "I'm sorry to bother you, um, Maistre. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"So you decided to stalk me?"
"N-No!" He burst, shaking his head so the message would be conveyed as quickly as possible. "No, I d-didn't mean to bother you, I'll just go-"
Mitch laughed. His grin lit up his face, and he beckoned at Scott with a slim finger to come closer. He did so, shifting his weight, blushing profusely and attempting to keep his eyes on the fire and the fire only. "Please, stay a little while. It's nice to have company this late at luna. Nobody is ever awake except me."
"I'll stay if you want, Maistre." Scott replied. The statement rang true inside of his head. He really did miss Mitch and wanted to spend time with him. He just had to keep in mind that this new Mitch didn't really know who he was yet. And god, it was strange to have to talk to him so formally and not be able to joke with him like usual. They both stood there for some time, letting the steady flame warm them, saying nothing. The tall man caught the brunette looking at him every now and then. His face was probably the color of a rose by now. No one said anything.
Though...the blonde had so many questions he wished to ask. What could it hurt to ask them right now? Everyone thought that his memory was gone (despite what Avi had said, his memory was NOT gone. It wasn't gone. It wasn't), so they wouldn't suspect a thing. "Maistre?"
"Yes, Scott?"
"Um...what's..." Scott's uncertain voice caught in his throat. But curiosity prevailed. "What's a luna?"
"A luna?" Mitch's eyebrows arched, and he stared at the man like he had three heads. At this point he could accept that as normal. "You don't remember what a luna is?"
"N-No." Sureness had never been so absent from his confident tone.
"Oh." The countertenor thought for a moment before responding. Listening to the fire calmed Scott's strung nerves as he waited for the response. "Luna is...this." He gestured to the sky, how dark it was, how clear the stars were, how bright they shone. "Luna is the time when the sky goes dark and the sol takes a rest for a while. You can see the stars. The air gets cooler and the forest more magical. Luna is the time that everything in the unknown is more dangerous." He smiled at an attentive Scott. "I sound like a teacher. Or Avi. But that's what luna is."
Still not understanding, the baritone bit his tongue to hold in his confusion, and mulled over it in his brain for a second. Somewhere, a part of him that he had never known before whispered to him what luna was. Luna, wrapped together in a single word, meant night. He also had the instinctive knowledge that sol meant day. Night and day. Luna and sol. It made sense.
He finally nodded as he smiled, now more informed than he had been several minutes ago. Suddenly, the fire kicked up a notch, rising a few feet in the air and causing Scott to step away so his hair wouldn't singe. The last thing he needed right now was his hair burnt until it was as brown as Mitch's.
"Shit! Sorry!" Said smaller man's expression was panicked. He moved to the fire instead of away from it, his hands held like he was trying to tame a horse. "I didn't mean to do that! Fuck, would you just calm down?" The last part was directed at the fire.
The blue-eyed man watched in astonishment as the heat obeyed the brunette, falling from its mighty tower of flame and returning to its original size. It continued to crackle merrily.
Mitch tilted his head to see Scott wearing a disbelieving look. "Sorry about that. I'm still..." He sighed tiredly, flicking a piece of hair from his line of sight. "I'm working on fire. Fire...fire likes to react to my emotions, not me."
"What?" The baritone was positive his mouth was hanging open like a fish. "Are you saying that-"
"That's one of the gifts that the Sound gave me, yeah." Black-clad shoulders lifted and fell. "Controlling flame. Nothing to scream about, zaffiro."
How did he know that the blonde was going to start screaming?
Maybe he was psychic, too.
That would be truly scary.
"R-Right. Because controlling fire isn't at all weird. That's normal. That's a normal, everyday thing." Scott couldn't help the slight hysteria that had leaked into his voice. "Right. Of course, Mit-Maistre. Right."
"Am I freaking you out?" Mitch's voice was gentle. He touched the baritone's arm lightly. His skin, though the contact wasn't bare due to the layers of clothing separating them, felt as hot as the fire, like being burned in a really really really good way. Scott moved away at the unfamiliar and strangely enticing feeling. The brunette dropped his hand as if he had also felt the sting. "I'm sorry. This is all so new to you, getting your memory back and everything, and I'm just making it worse."
"You're not making it worse." Scott breathed, rubbing his arm where they had touched. Why hadn't he felt this yesterday? Why hadn't he ever felt this before? "You're...you're just confusing me."
"That's not helping to make you better, allettante uno." Shaking his head of dark locks, the brown-eyed man turned back to the fire, his voice abruptly morphing so it was emotionless. "I think that you should return to bed. You have a busy solmarrow and I'm keeping you up."
The taller man wanted to protest. "I-I'm sorry, did I say something to-"
"I apologize for causing your mind to ache. Whoever you pissed off doesn't like me that much either, so it's best that you go back to bed to prevent more accidental triggers."
Scott hated how swiftly Mitch had disconnected. Automatically he reached for his arm, almost invisible in the dark, and flinched when he roughly pulled away. The mood had gone from comforting to uncomprehendable to cold within a few seconds, and it was boggling the baritone's mind.
"Per favore vai. Prima ho fatto male tu." Words that sounded Italian escaped the tiny man through gritted teeth. He himself winced, and added in a language that Scott could understand, "Sorry, I'm not used to speaking so much English. Please go. Now."
"Maistre-"
"Scott Hoying, if you don't leave to your house right now, I'll make you leave. It won't be fun." His high voice promised, dark eyes narrowed at a person who was trying not to shake. "Just because you're new doesn't mean you'll get special treatment from me. Leave before I trigger something in you or kick your ass." Like the gesture was more than familiar, Mitch reached for the hilt of his weapon, sliding his fingers across the handle. His eyes were brittle.
Scott had almost forgotten about the giant sword Mitch possessed (and his ponderings on whether of not he could wield it properly. He didn't want to find out) or the two knives sheathed in his boots. He was saying...he was saying that he would use his weapon against Scott. He would hurt him, he would cut him, he would burn him if he didn't obey.
Too much. Too much too fast. He stumbled backwards, away from the hard expression he was being given and the promising threat, his head starting to throb, nodding frantically. Recalling the words Avi had said, he repeated them hastily. "As you have requested, Maistre."
He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay by the fire and ask more questions and wrap his head around just how powerful Mitch was and think about the pleasant burn he felt when they touched. No wonder he was the leader of the tribe. And a Maistre, whatever the hell that meant.
Whatever the fuck this all meant.
Scott walked away hurriedly, daring to glance behind him only once. The countertenor was watching him go, a bit of forlornness cracking his angry mask, but as soon as he noticed the blonde looking at him he scowled and flung a hand at the tall man dismissively. A bitter wind that smelled of trees and glowing grass shoved him forward, so forcefully that he almost tripped. He didn't and kept going until he luckily ended up where he intended to. Climbing the ladder, his heart beat frantically in his chest, and he didn't relax until he reached the top and was leaning heavily against the doorway of the tree house. What the hell had been up with that wind? Mitch could only control flame...
Ignoring the emotions welling up in him, Scott's eyes searched the area he had just fled from, seeking a tiny body with a giant sword strapped to its back.
The dark figure that was Mitch Grassi had disappeared. And someway, somehow, the fire had disappeared too.
Somebody was shaking him. They didn't need to, because Scott was already up. He had been for what seemed to be forever.
"I'm awake, Amethyst." His semi-deep tone protested, rolling over, in the same motion lightly pushing her delicate fingers off of him. The blonde raked a hand through his hair, finally looking up at the white-haired healer.
She was almost overflowing with energy. Unlike Scott, her eyes didn't appear bloodshot, there were no bags under her purple pupils, and she probably wasn't mentally and emotionally stressed. She probably got a full luna of sleep. Tuffs of her electric hair stood up on one side of her head, and paired with her innocent expression she resembled a small child ready to eat Mickey Mouse pancakes for breakfast (minus her attire. She was dressed in a variation of the outfit he had seen her in yesterday. Her choker remained on).
Just the thought of food caused the baritone's stomach to rumble. He tried to recall the last time he had eaten something; it occurred to him that it was two days (actual days, not sols) ago, and that it was the bowl of popcorn he and the old Mitch who could get through a conversation with him without threatening his wellbeing had shared. Before he had gone to the bar. Before he got pulled here, wherever here was.
Amethyst gave a small smile. It vanished when she got a good look at his exhausted face. Carefully (meaning she gave time for him to pull away if he wanted), the healer cupped his face in her right hand, closed her eyes...
Tiredness began to exit his body, leaking from his head to his toes down into the floor. Scott let his own blue eyes droop shut. It only lasted for a moment more, Amethyst letting go of him slowly. He glanced up from his seat on the bunk bed, ready to thank her, but stopped when she let out a sigh and rubbed at her eyes. They were now slightly bloodshot.
She healed my tiredness...but instead of getting rid of it, she took it instead. The tall man was instantly sorry and said aloud, "You didn't need to do that if it would make you feel like shit. I'm sorry."
Her purple gaze landed on his mouth, and she gained an expression of concentration. This sounded wrong, yet after a moment, Scott realized she was trying to decipher what he was saying. He recalled that she was monolingual and solely spoke German. He blushed at his ignorance.
Amethyst shook her head at herself. Her focused face returned, and she opened her mouth to say in cracked English, "Twoo tyerred for me twoo..." She scrunched her eyebrows, searching for the word, giving up and saying it in German. "...heilien..." She was obviously trying to finish the sentence in the language she was studying. Scott grinned in encouragement. "...yoo fuel e."
Scott stood up from the bed (he towered over her small frame) and nodded his head in thanks. Amethyst smiled, understanding without any words. She also revealed something she had been hiding behind her back; a blue fruit that looked like a banana, except it was twisted in a way that made it resemble the number 6. His breakfast. He took it from her gratefully. For some reason, he had the feeling they were going to be good friends.
He said the only thing he knew how to say in German; "Vielen Dank." Thank you very much.
Her reply was fluent and in the same tongue. The girl with purple pupils helped him unpeel the fruit, watching as he took a bite. It was sweet and strangely enough a little salty. But it was good. Scott thanked her again, making a move to walk to one of the wooden dressers in the corner, when he froze. Oh, yeah. He didn't have any clothes. Would he have to wear this for the rest of his life?
The healer read his mind again. Taking his hand (the one not holding the fruit, which was almost gone), she opened a drawer in the dresser next to the dresser he had picked, and rummaged around.
The tall man wasn't going to lie; the following fifteen minutes were pretty fun. Amethyst chose several outfits, all black of course, and gestured for him to try them on. He did so, assured that she was modest enough not to peek, attempting to finish his breakfast as he tugged on skin-tight bottoms. She laughed loudly as she got a good look at him wiggling his butt at her, shook her head, and the process repeated with different clothes until an outfit was finally picked.
Scott ended up wearing slightly rugged, worn jeans, a plain tank top, and a jacket whose sleeves he rolled to his elbows. it was a normal jacket, ending at just above his hips and not sinking below that point. He liked his boots, as they had secret compartments in secret locations that didn't hold anything that secret yet, unless you considered dust motes secret. They had silver buckle wrapped around each of them, matching his silver charm bracelet (that he now more than ever refused to take off). Amethyst had eyed him critically up-and-down, bounded to the dresser, and emerged with a small chained necklace with a silver sphere that, if you looked closely, not only had intricate designs, but opened to reveal more secret compartments that weren't so secret.
He loved it, and thanked her in German again.
Amethyst smiled, opened her mouth to try and say something in English, when a knock on the doorframe interrupted her. Her attention instantly divided, and she bowed respectfully to the person standing in the doorway. Scott pivoted on his heel, half hoping that it was Mitch, and half praying that it wasn't. He had no idea what he'd done the previous luna to change the countertenor's demeanor so suddenly, but it was far from good.
God, he hadn't been in...what did Mitch call it...Nightshade Forest for more than a few hours and he was already being threatened. By his best friend.
"Good sol, Scott." Green eyes that matched the leaves of the forest smiled at the baritone, who breathed a quiet sigh of relief and hid his frown of disappointment. Avi stood there, his hair up in a man bun, looking as awake as the healer had. "Nice outfit. It'll help you blend in."
"I thought sol meant day." Scott responded, walking to the bass and listening to the soft clunk of his boots against the chipping wood. A yawn ruined the serious face he'd come close to adopting, and he rubbed his eyes.
Avi paused, observing the taller man. "What does day mean?"
"What?" The blonde's invisible eyebrows formed a crease in the middle of his forehead. He was just about to ask the bassist if he wasn't going nuts when-oh yeah. His, er, Earthen dialect wouldn't be understood here.
Wherever the literal fuck here was.
Instead of questioning the bearded man, Scott did what he had done last luna; listened to a part of him that he'd never ever heard from before. He waited a second, and a second more, until it gave in and whispered to him. Sol did primarily mean day, but it could also mean morning, or sun. Right. Of course. So good sol actually meant good morning.
How the hell was he expected to learn another language (assuming that he stayed with the tribe and Mitch didn't kick him out) if he had to translate English every five seconds?
"Sorry, Avi." He amended, yawning again. "I just...my memory is all whacked out."
The lie was good enough for the bass, who simply nodded in acceptance. He lifted his hands to play with the edges of his gloves. "Well, hopefully it won't stay that way for long. You and the Maistre hit it off nicely yesterday, so I have a good feeling that even if he himself can't cure you, he'll give you the best help he can."
Scott swallowed, remembering the luna before in which he and the Maistre hadn't hit it off so nicely. "That's...great."
"It is." Avi nodded. He noticed Amethyst, probably still standing behind Scott, bustling about and getting ready, and said something in German. The blonde turned to see her white locks freeze in place and her mouth move into a thin, displeased line.
"Er kann nicht kampfen, er ist zu müde." She said, her tone slightly irritated. "Er weiß nicht, wie noch, Maistre."
The bearded man shook his head at her. "Er wird lernen."
Amethyst looked like she wanted to argue her point further, shooting Scott unreadable looks, but all she did was sigh in defeat and nod. Avi's face softened, and he said something else the baritone couldn't understand. The healer pivoted on her heel, and climbed the bed ladder to get to her top bunk, and nothing more was said. Avi gestured for Scott to follow him out.
The two made their way down the house ladder in as relative silence as they could. Everybody was up and about and awake; since the blue-eyed man had been awake for hours, he had heard the people of the tribe bustling about, doing whatever it is that they did. When his feet hit the ground, noise filled his ears; the sounds of other boots walking through the grass that faintly glowed, insects buzzing in the forest that was only a few feet away, and voices talking, arguing, and laughing, more often than not in different languages.
Avi smiled at the orderly chaos. "Is it a bit overwhelming?"
"Um..." Just looking at it all made Scott's head spin. "A little."
The bassist laughed at the deer-in-the-headlights expression the blonde was sure was decorating his features. "You'll get used to it. Follow me." Avi set off.
"Where are we going?" Scott hurried to keep up, something that he had never done before. He watched as everyone they passed paused to give a bow and greet the bass in whatever language they spoke, always ending with the word Maistre. Some people, after straightening, gave the newcomer a weird look that had forced friendliness on it. Most didn't even try to acknowledge him, just saying a quick hello and going back to whatever they had previously been doing.
Actually, everybody seemed oddly busy. People were strapping weapons onto their backs, everything from swords to knives to bows and arrows. The Forgery, the stone building that Avi had pointed to the sol before, was crowded with people hanging outside of the large open window and shouting into it. Loud clanking emitted from the space, and occasionally puffs of smoke emitted from a chimney-like rectangle that sat on top of the structure. What was everybody doing?
"Everybody is getting ready for training." Avi said out of no where. Scott quickly glanced at him. Oh, god, was Avi a psychic too? Could all Maistre's read minds?
"Can you read my mind?" He asked warily.
This got the man with green eyes chuckling and trying to hide it behind his glove. "No, I can't read your mind. That would be pretty cool, though. But that's not my gift."
Scott remembered how Mitch had said that controlling fire was one of the gifts that the Sound had given him. "What's your gift, then?"
"That's quite rude to ask, you know. Especially when it's a Maistre you're asking."
"Sorry, Avi, I didn't-"
Avi chuckled good-naturedly. "I'm being difficult. Don't worry, Scott, you're new and you don't know all of the rules yet. You didn't know that it was wrong to ask me, and that's okay."
The blonde couldn't help the way his shoulders sagged slightly. He kicked a small rock that was in his path as he walked, giving his friend a lost look. Had he been rude last luna when he had discussed Mitch's power? Maybe that was why he had soured so suddenly. "But that's the thing. I want to know all of the rules so that I don't mess up."
"Messing up is part of learning, Scott."
"But I don't want to mess up. You're supposed to be my mentor. Why can't you teach me the rules?"
The bassist waved to three tribe members who had called to him using his formal title. The two continued to make their way through the little forest village. After thinking through his answer, he said slowly, "I am indeed your mentor. But I can't teach you everything. Some things you have to learn on your own. But..." He sighed, his expression grudging. "I did promise to help you. So I'll make an arrangement; each sol when training ends, you meet me afterwards and I'll teach you more about life on Orbis. Okay? And maybe I could get Amethyst involved as well...she lacks knowledge, like you."
"Okay, that's it, I have to ask; what the fuck is Orbis?" Scott threw his hands up in exasperation. "And what's training? Why is everybody getting ready for it?"
Avi continued to walk (now through a little cleared path of trees, away from the village), but gave the tall man a long look while doing so. "You really must've made somebody angry, if you don't know what Orbis is. Or training."
Beating back a tree branch that had bark so dark it was almost purple, the person who gave the answer asked, "Can't you tell me?"
"I'll answer the easier of your two questions. Training is the time of sol where everybody in the tribe comes together at one place, and does pretty much exactly that; train. Depending on what you struggle the most with, that's what you work on, whether it be your gifts, singing, or fighting. Most people have problems fighting. Using their gifts is like a second nature."
Scott paused, processing the weirdness, before saying carefully, "Is it okay if I ask you what your gift is?"
"Yes." There was a smile in his voice as he said it. "I give you permission."
"What's your gift, Maistre?"
A playful twinkle sparked inside of Avi's jade eyes. Something that was very, very seldom. The only time the baritone had ever seen it was when Meat and Potatoes had been wrestling around the recording studio and the bass had won. "Watch this, newcomer."
The bearded man rubbed his hands together, closing his eyes and concentrating, and deliberately pulled his fingers apart. Scott watched in amazement as electricity jumped between Avi's palms, crackling and hissing, some streaks bright purple and others neon blue. The effect lasted for a few seconds, and stopped when the bass clapped his hands together. A sound resonated that the blonde could've sworn was thunder.
"You can-" Scott was staring at his friends hands, seriously expecting an entire storm to ignite. "You can control electricity?"
"I've never heard of that before." Avi responded curiously. His brow furrowed in the same way it had when Scott had said the word day. "What's ee-leek-tris-sity?"
The baritone paused for a moment, honestly debating if he should try and explain the term, but chickened out at the last second. "It's nothing, nevermind. Your gift is controlling lightning?" As the words exited his lips, it was shocking how natural they sounded rolling off of his tongue.
Shocking...get it? Because Avi can control...y'know?
Wow. If he was going to be stuck on this godforsaken place for the rest of his life, his fabulous sense of humor better not go to shit.
Scott had the feeling that it already was, anyway.
Damn.
"You could say that." Avi had stopped walking. In front of the two was a smaller clearing than the one that the little tree village was built in. People were milling about, chatting with their fellow tribe members in pairs or in small groups. Unlike at the village and through the path that led there, the air in this particular space was tense, almost nervous. Everyone appeared unsteady, and were casually reaching behind them to stroke the handle of their weapons. Talk was a little forced. Only a few people seemed completely at ease. "I do have power over lightning, but my general gift is with storms. I sense when they approach, their severity, and control the thunder. And rain with the wind, on occasion."
"That's really cool." Scott blurted, because it seriously was. Bending storms to your will? Yes, please! No wonder Avi was a Maistre.
The bass grinned at his sudden enthusiasm for a moment, but the second his eyes swept the crowded clearing, his expression faded. Everybody had now taken notice to his arrival, and greeted him hastily. They all, as what was becoming usual, gave the tall blonde a weird glance, before their attention snapped back to the person in charge. They seemed to be huddling together to form one crowd.
"Sound, but I hate doing this." The bearded man murmured under his breath. Scott tried not to let that worry him too much (come on, he wasn't really going to be made to follow orders to train, right? He would have a weapon if he was doing that), and felt a little sorry for the tribe and whatever they were about to go through. That is, until Avi gestured for him to join the mass.
He didn't move for a second. "Wait, you want me to...but I don't-"
"It's alright, Scott. I..." His deep voice trailed off, a troubled look coming to light green eyes. "Just go. Trust me and join your fellow tribal members for training." When he hesitated again, Avi's voice lost a bit of its soothing nature and gained edge. "Now. That's an order."
"Yes, Maistre." The submissive phrase was going to be branded into the baritone's brain soon enough. He kept saying it quicker and quicker and he wasn't sure if he entirely liked that. Scott tried not to trip over his own feet as he walked to the group of staring people. He ended up standing in between a short girl with black hair in a pixie cut, and a toned, tan boy with hair died neon pink. The girl gave a tentative smile, but the boy snorted and took an obvious step away.
His cheeks were probably burned bright red. Ugh. This felt like the first day at a new school. Out of interest, Scott glanced around for Amethyst, but she was nowhere to be seen in the small crowd. This was not a comfort.
"Attention, all." Avi's voice rang over the now silent clearing. Everybody stood rapt. "I know that some of you may not understand me, because some of you don't know English, but the Maistre Controtenore will be arriving soon, and he'll help to translate." A murmur broke out in the crowd at this. Scott gathered that whomever the Maistre Controtenore was, he was pretty important, and wondered if they had already met. "But until then-"
Bushes scuffled off to the bassist's right. Avi tilted his head towards the noise, as focused as everybody else; it was only Amethyst, arriving from the house. She hadn't changed with the exception of one thing, and it was that two metal cuffs, dark and thick and bulky, had been locked onto her wrists. The healer acted like they weren't there, flicking her hair from her eyes casually and moving to stand in front of Scott.
The blonde grew anxious once he spotted the cuff-like bracelets on her wrists shining in the sol. They gave off a strange vibe and transformed the usual comforting and sweet aura that Amethyst carried into something a slight bit more...dangerous.
She glanced behind her at him, and winked.
Scott didn't know what to make of that, but didn't have time to since Avi was talking again. "As I was saying, until he arrives, we're going to be working on fighting today. But unlike usual, we're actually going to have mock-matches." There was a stifling of groans mixed with excited gasps. "I know, I know, it's a little early to be practicing this much, but the Sing-Off is coming up soon, and as we all know, practice makes perfect."
The baritone perked his ears. Had Avi just said...the Sing-Off? Like, the one and only Sing-Off that Pentatonix had won a few years back? But...that didn't make sense. That TV contest didn't exist here.
...did it?
"Before we begin, I'd like to bring attention to a matter." The bassist turned to the pink-haired boy who had stepped away from Scott. His ears were quadruple pierced, and the edge of a tattoo peeked from underneath his short-sleeve shirt. Tattoos...yet another thing to as Avi about later. "Bloom has returned early from his stay at the tribe of Maistre Hall, and has brought back information on how the Sing-Off will be judged this year. Thank you, Bloom."
Bloom half-smirked as he was given several pats on the back and whispered congratulations. Scott did neither. Information on the Sing-Off...as in, cheating? He was no saint, but cheating was wrong. An uneasy feeling
"Now, time to fight." Avi wrapped up his speech with a clap of his hands that sounded like a tiny clap of thunder. Nobody blinked. "Since the Maistre Controtenore isn't here yet-"
"I am here." A high-pitched voice announced from Avi's left.
Scott resisted the urge to throw something while he watched nobody other than Mitch-fucking-Grassi step out of the protection of the trees, looking fierce and just as deadly as he had when the blonde had seen him standing by the fire. His expression was tried, underneath his eyes dusted purple, but surely no one would willingly face him seeing as he still had that giant sword sheathed on his back. A quick look at his small feet confirmed the two knives strapped to his boots were there.
It occurred to the tall man that he was surrounded by people who not only disliked him, but had weapons they knew how to use. Scott's eyes remained glued to his best friend's face has his stomach flipped. Whatever mock-matches were, they sounded painful. And like you needed a weapon to participate in them.
Avi did say to trust him...maybe he'd yank the blue-eyed man out of there before someone kicked his ass.
Judging by the solemn look that the bass was sending him, that idea was growing more and more unlikely.
Mitch nodded at the bearded Maistre. All eyes shifted to the countertenor as his mouth opened to speak. "As your Maistre Bass has already explained, today we're going to be doing mock-matches. However, instead of doing mock-matches twice a week, we'll be doing them three times a week." His dark gaze swept the crowd. A dare to anyone to defy his words. Scott shivered a little when those brown eyes met his own, feeling a burning heat sweep up his neck. "The Sing-Off is fast approaching and we must be ready."
Gone was the giggling brunette that teased him in front of the fire. In his place was a stone cold leader whom radiated power.
Scott wasn't so sure that he entirely liked that, either.
Amethyst reached for the blonde's hand and held it. He squeezed her fingers lightly; despite putting on those weird cuffs that emitted danger, she was nervous as well. He had almost forgotten that she was as new to the tribe as he was. Did she know what a mock-match was?
"Let the fighting begin!" Mitch announced in a loud voice. He repeated the phrase in four other languages (surprising the blonde for second, before he remember what Avi had told him about tribal leaders having to learn five languages).
Everybody burst into mutterings, stepping back a few paces so that the crowd wasn't at standing in the middle of the clearing, rather they were standing at by the ring of trees. Now the space in the middle was bare. So bare that two people could stalk its circumference comfortably, and could be viewed by the crowd and by the two Maistre's.
Puzzle pieces clicked together in Scott's mind. That was the point, he realized. Two people were to fight in the middle of the clearing with their weapons, and the winner declared by the Maistre's. Did weapons include supposed 'gifts'? Did everybody here have a 'gift' except for Scott?
"First pair is..." Mitch mulled over the names he wanted. His eyes met the baritone's once more. A smile that wasn't nice but wasn't mean curled on his lips. "Two Beginning Singers. Amethyst Creed and Scott Hoying, step forward."
Sending the other person half scared, half assuring expressions, the two stepped forward into the empty part of the clearing. Whispers broke out. Scott ignored them, though he felt self-consciousness creeping up on him like it never had before, and awkwardly stood in the solid middle of the space. The whispers transitioned into quiet laughter. Heat gathered in his face as he blushed.
Avi shook his head at the blonde in what resembled embarrassment and pointed a ways to the right. Amethyst abandoned her position from the far left to guide her house mate there, smiling a wobbly smile in reassurance. She returned to her spot a few yards in front of him.
Scott gave a helpless look in the direction of his favorite bass. This look was unacknowledged.
The hands of the healer were shaking, and her thin fingers were trembling and held in such a way that resembled how one would snap them to a beat. Her cuff-bracelets shone. The tall man faced her, unsure what was about to happen, and held his fists in front of him. Was he going to have to beat her up? He'd never thrown a punch of anger in his life! Amethyst rolled her weight to one of her hips, her features molded into a grim line.
Mitch looked at one person, and then the other. He almost appeared regretful of his decision. But despite that, he raised his left hand, dropped it, and barked, "Fight!"