Whimper, sniff, sniffle…
'Oh, how the mighty have fucking fallen,' Groose thought, raising his head from his pillow to take a short breath before slamming it back down. The past few days had all been a teary blur run on the fuel of pumpkin pastries, sweetened water, and a lot of pillow punching. A day like the Wing Ceremony was supposed to be his chance to make something of himself. His chance to be a knight, dammit. Hey, maybe he could've actually spoken to Zelda for once. But NO! He messed it up — his damned friends messed it up! How the hell did they get a damn egg basket? Why did they shove it toward him? Such a dick move, and then acting like he had the idea?! Idiots! Useless, idiots!
…But, dammit, they did do a lot more good than he gave them credit for. It was on him for acting like it was all their fault. Didn't mean he wasn't pissed, though. Still moping in his room, having barely been outside since that day, he knew exactly when someone did so much as pass by his door. And he knew when someone knocked.
Knock knock.
"Fuck off," he grumbled into his pillow, his voice still a bit raspy. Damn these thin walls and his loud wails.
Knock knock knock.
"I said fuck off," he repeated, reluctantly rising to look at the door.
Click, creak.
"Shouldn't go sayin' that to knights. I hear they don't take it too well," his father said, smirking and leaning on the doorway. His knightly attire never seemed so prevalent before now, but here they both were. One stare smug, the other beaten and broken.
Groose turned red as his hair and shoved his face back into the pillow, groaning loudly and kicking his feet "Sorry," he said, sighing.
"No need," his father assured, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. He stepped nice and slowly around the mess on the floor, mostly consisting of bottles, trinkets, and other nicknacks. Though, he did pause briefly at the sight of a locket on the floor. "I take it you're not handling this well." He sat on the edge of the bed, a small distance from Groose.
A bitter chuckle escaped Groose. "You don't say," he mused, unamused. He rose just a little, sitting with a posture as straight as a 'C.' "Why are you here?"
His father scooted closer. "Haven't seen you in days. I knew you were alive, kid, but I didn't know how close you were to the ideal 'alive.' By the looks…" —he nudged a bottle with his boot — "you're pretty far from it."
Groose nodded, twiddling his thumbs. He didn't like the reminder, even if dozens of reminders sat on the floor. "So… any updates on… whatever's happening outside these walls?" he asked, trying to smile.
"Link hasn't returned yet, everyone's still on high alert. So, ah, no, nothing's really happened. Nothing relating to you and your crew, anyway." His father grimaced, cracking his neck and looking away. His voice was a bit lower as he spoke. "They've finished the extra classes I assigned to them after the mess during the Wing Ceremony. They passed with no colors and minimal flying after that stunt."
Though his posture didn't change, Groose's eyes widened a little at the mention of that. Extra classes for them? Not him? That was odd. "Did you get approval for that…?"
"Manipulated their grades just a tad so they got some more classes with me. Nothing too bad."
"Dad," —Groose straightened up— "you don't get to do that. You know the Academy doesn't encourage that. Even if you manipulated their grades, you should've manipulated mine too. I am still to blame for the Wing Ceremony disaster because I threw an egg too. It's on me, still."
A moment of silence between them came and went, just a few brief seconds of thought before his father said, "You really can't accept that it's their fault entirely, can you?"
"I—"
"It's been 17 years of their life, and roughly 12 of them in your life. You'd think they'd understand the fact that I'm watching their asses, but based on their behavior — and its consequences — I guess not." He looked Groose in the eye, the glint of his goggles piercing into his son's soul. "But you? You gotta stop making excuses for what they're doing, to themselves and, obviously, you."
"Me?" he repeated. "No, they're not doing anything to me. They're dunderheads, that's all there is to it."
"They know damn well what they're doing to my son, but you keep acting like they don't," his father affirmed, his body jolting a little. Even though he calmed down, he still clutched the bedsheets in a tight fist. "Look, kid," he said, "you just… gotta cut them out. They've done this before, and they'll keep doing it until they've dragged you to their level. Or, worse, used you as a stepping stone to elevate themselves." He finally caressed Groose's shoulder, sending a shock down his son's spine, though he warmed up to it soon. "You gotta let go."
Groose leaned into his father, relaxing. Even during lectures, his father was right here, offering a warm hand. A few tears slipped past his closed eyes as he let himself and his pride go for just this moment. Damn his father and his gentle love. "I can't," he said, looking deep into his father's soul. All he saw was what he should've been — someone better than who he was now. "I can't just let someone good go, okay? They've taken from me, I know that. But they've given to me, too. They've done good, they really have. Like you told me, sometimes it starts rough but pays off later. And each time that has happened. I sat through their shit and I found gold. It took time… but I did. So… they're good, just… dull."
His father rested his head on Groose's, reaching around to pat his shoulder. "I know, I know. I get you. And I get your point. Unlikely as it seems, maybe 12 years is just the start. But I'm still gonna hold onto my belief that they're not good for you. And I'm gonna tell you here and now." His father had the gleam once again, smiling at Groose and looking him in the eye. "Walk on eggshells. Or you might—"
"Might kill a Crimson Loftwing," he finished, the response automatic.
As always, his father ruffled his hair and chuckled, slowly easing out of the embrace. "Attaboy," he said gently. "Now, I gotta get back on patrol." He turned, nudging open the door. After a moment of standing in the doorway, he audibly whispered, "She'd be proud of you, son," before he walked out the door.
The sounds of the hall outside vanished into indecipherable muffled voices once the door closed, leaving Groose in silence with the company of his thoughts. Finally being able to face what was in his head was nice, like the words were flowing around him. No more wild traffic in his head. Just a smooth, quiet stream of thought, uninterrupted in nature. In the chaos of everyday life, being in pure silence for even ten minutes straight was nice. In fact, if he was going to clean his mental space, he figured he could go and clean his physical one, too. And that's just what he did, losing track of time in the rhythm of reorganization. When he was done, it was like nothing had happened. He even combed his hair back into a pompadour. Everything was going quite swell. Maybe he'd even start considering his father's advice.
CRASH!
"Hey, Groose, buddy ol' pal!" the loud, piercing voice of Cawlin hit his ears like a storm. Much like Cawlin, who rammed into Groose and hugged his legs. He was roughly half of Groose's height, like a child, and very round. "Daaaaaamn, you've been inside a while, but look at you! All better, eh? Hehehe! 'Bout time! C'mon, let's go!" He grabbed Groose's wrist and tried to drag him out. It didn't work.
"Oh, Groose. You're out. Nice. We're going for a drink to celebrate," Stritch added. He was Cawlin's opposite, taller than Groose but thick as a stick.
"Woah, woah, woah." Groose shook Cawlin's hand off of his arm, upset. "I'm not in the mood for a drink. I just cleaned my whole room. I need a minute."
"Pfft. You're fine, dude. Just look at you!" Cawlin punched Groose's chest, grinning madly. "C'mon, you've moped long enough. It's a dumb loss because of a dumb kid, stop worrying about it! It's all chill! We're chill, right?" Cawlin shot him some puppy eyes, sparkling like the sun.
Unfazed, Groose stepped back, squaring his feet and crossing his arms. "You can't just throw all the blame on me for throwing those eggs after you whipped them out of your ass, Cawlin," he said, keeping steady but still firm. "This is your fault, too."
Cawlin blew a raspberry at him, stepping forward with an accusing finger. "Oh, please. YOU threw one too, bitch. Not our fault you joined in on the fun. Besides," —Cawlin matched Groose's firm pose— "if you actually hit the damn kid, we wouldn't be in this mess. You'd have gotten the girl, y'know! So, it's YOUR fault. Hmmmm?" He smirked, the wind blowing his hair up like little spikes on his head.
"No, it's not. You—"
"Oh, such a whiny baby. How about you man up and accept that this is your fault too, HUH?!" Cawlin rolled his eyes, backing up with his arms crossed tighter. Stritch nudged into him a little from behind. "You're being a big baby. It's been four days, get over it. No amount of moping is gonna fix that. Now go cheer yourself up for once!" He turned around, taking Strich's hand softly and making his way to the door.
Click, clack, click…
Groose clenched his fist, the words repeating in his head. But they were wrong. Were they? Was he overthinking again? He was. But weren't they a negative? Cawlin and Stritch were almost out the door. Groose bit his lip. Maybe they were right. His mind raced one last time. Maybe…
Click… clack… click…
"Wait," he relented. "Fine, I'll… go and drink with you."
"Hah! Knew you had a brain inside that pompadoured skull, bud!" Cawlin jeered, crushing Groose's wrist again as he dragged them all out the door. The halls were busy, as per usual, but there was something different. Filled with students chatting loudly, teachers packing up their stuff, the usual after a long year of work and a hard week of payoff. But it wasn't alive anymore. The teachers looked stressed, the students were either mopey or gossiping, the air was filled with a looming feeling. Maybe a good one, maybe not, but one that loomed constantly. Nobody seemed to like it, anyway. Though he didn't know how long and stressful everything out here would be, he felt it rubbing off on him.
Cawlin and Stritch seemed none the wiser, dashing through the small crowds like nobody's business. They turned and, a moment later, they were out the door, Cawlin chatting away like a bird. A few words entered Groose's ears, like "pumpkin," "alcohol," and "favors," but the rest slipped right through undetected. He wasn't looking forward to washing down his mood with some drinks, but he knew he'd be convinced to take at least one. One drink, nothing more. For the rest of their time there, he would be eating those sweet pumpkin treats and probably sitting in the corner. Just… one.
"Hey, buddy!" Cawlin yelled directly into Groose's ear, finally getting his attention. "The big guy Pumm at Lumpy Pumpkin is gonna let us drink his best stock all night! Can you believe it?!"
"You sounded like you already knew that."
Cawlin pouted, grumbling, "Well, yeah, just making sure your dumbass knows."
"It's the special Pumpkin Punch, cheap now that the year is over," Stritch added, patting Cawlin's head. "We're gonna have lots." They passed through the gate leading into and out of the Academy. The hustle out here was the same as within the Academy walls, with adults gossiping and packing as they went. The difference was that knights, flying high in the sky or patrolling the land of Skyloft, were around every corner. Most of them were watching the bright green pillar piercing the sea of clouds below, the view improved when the three arrived at the Plaza.
A vivid flash of the Wing Ceremony made Groose shudder, his arms aching at the reminder of the punishment he went through once it was over. Hundreds of pushups straight, supervised all night by several teachers. At least his friends were forced to take the punishment with him. But he had to forget that. It was over, in the past, done and dusted. And a drink would surely help him cool off. Maybe he could sit and watch the stars again, allowing his mind to run wild with thoughts of winning the Wing Ceremony and finally getting to share some long-hidden words with Zelda. Hell, if Zelda would even bat him an eye after Link saved her, that'd be nice. All he'd need was one moment with her, preferably alone.
"Pumpkin's just a couple minutes of flight. Hoo hoo, I can't WAIT to get some drinks tonight! We're gonna go craa-zy! Hah ah! Nobody's stoppin' us from having a good time, boys!" Cawlin jumped like a child on their birthday, his little boots slamming on the stone ground. Lumpy Pumpkin's special supply was limited to knights and adults during the late afternoon which was coming up soon. The sky had flecks of orange and pink deep within the blues, the sun making a slow descent toward the clouds below. By now, people were the busiest as they finished up their work and closed up their shops in and around the Bazaar by the center of town. The crisp air was at its finest right now, only with a slightly strong breeze coming from the Plaza diving board. No, a stronger one. Not a natural one. Was it—
CAW CAW! SCREEECH!
The three jumped back at the cry, the entirety of Skyloft stopped at the sound, and every knight drew their swords in wait. Groose got to his feet and looked over the edge toward the green pillar of light, spotting a blur of red feathers growing with the volume of the sounds. Before he could react, the blur flew over him, revealing a proud Crimson Loftwing, its wings spread high, a lumpy form on its back. Anyone and everyone rushed toward it as it hovered, flapping its wings and crying out loud. Knights took perches, kids behind adults, adults behind other adults, and the rest a distance away. Groose stepped closer. He recognized the Crimson Loftwing, and recognized the form on its back.
Link and Epona.
Epona landed on the ground, whining as she set down Link. He rolled off of her wing, barely catching himself on the ground. In a moment's time, he was swarmed with cheers and questions out the wazoo. Beside Groose, Cawlin and Stritch got to their feet, and they all watched the scene play out.
"Oh, it's this fucker," Cawlin groaned. "Can you believe this prick? Always begging for attention. Bet he spanked his own Loftwing so he could ride in with Zelda like some hero. UGH!"
…He didn't like to admit it, but that wasn't out of the realm of reality for Link. Just looking at how Link's father was carrying him out of the crowd with his mother in tow, leaving behind a noisy mesh of people, he still got the same feeling. All of this 'hero' business was just another ego trip for the kid.
"Tch. He doesn't learn, does he? If we weren't already on Gaepora's last straw, I'd say we go whoop his ass. He deserves that. Hope he fuckin' dies down there."
Groose tried to interject. "But—"
"PFFFT! You do too, idiot! You know it! He won't learn! Jackass," Cawlin shot back. "If a beating can't teach him a good lesson, a nice death should. Now, let's go." Cawlin walked toward the edge of the diving board with Stritch still in hand, mumbling something about "beer" or… whatever.
As for Groose? He didn't want to leave just yet. He was stuck in his head, at the moment, still thinking about Link. No matter how bad and stubborn and cocky he was, surely he deserved… a chance? No, he couldn't even say that with confidence. And if he couldn't do it with confidence, he shouldn't have done it at all. He didn't want Link to die, but his hopes of Link living a half-decent, independent, kind life were waning. And after that showoff move? It was definitely waning badly.
"You coming, dunderhead?" Cawlin asked.
Though he took one last look at Link as he was carried away, he joined back up with his friends and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming."
Together, they jumped off the edge and whistled for their Loftwings, quickly swept into the sky one by one. The breeze through his raised hair and through his clothes was refreshing, his eyes wide with a sense of fulfillment. A drink and some treats were nice, honestly, and he was kinda dense for thinking they were a bad idea. After this low, he'd treat himself with a little high before getting back to work. One month was always way shorter than it actually turned out to be, after all. He'd need to fix up his skills and routine. But he could worry about that later. For now, just one brief moment with his friends before the next year would come.
Lumpy Pumpkin was the same it had always been, the lights through its windows brighter as the sun continued setting. Even though they were quite far from it, the big sign reading, "Special Supply Hours" was clear as ever. Most knights were already on their way there, though it seemed like Groose and company would be at the front of the line. How they would actually get in was a complete mystery, but he didn't worry too much. After all, it was just one drink. He'd never done more than that, not for celebration, not for tragedy. And he wouldn't do it now.
The three made their landing, giving a brief farewell to their Loftwings before dashing for the door. Kina, daughter of the owner, gave them strange looks as they approached. It made sense. Anybody who didn't look like a knight coming here was always seconds from being turned down at the door, but, with Cawlina and Stritch continuing in stride, Groose followed suit. Kina's smile soured when they got a bit closer.
"HEY!" she yelled, slamming the door shut in front of them. "NO minors or non-knights are allowed during drinking hours! You heard me, you three — SCRAM!"
Cawlin smirked. "Uh-uh, sweet chee—"
"YOU!" In half a second, she was in Cawlin's face, her round eyes filled with the tiniest pupils. "I am NOT falling for your BULLSHIT again! Pumm owes you NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME?!" Her finger was jabbed directly between his eyes, clearly about to poke straight through at a moment's notice. "I will tear every last little tooth from your gums if you don't leave right now, you—"
Cawllin presented a pumpkin-flavored cupcake, still smirking.
"Ooo!" Kina yanked the cupcake from his hand and began to wolf it down, allowing Cawlin, Stritch, and Groose to enter as if nothing had happened. Having not been around the Lumpy Pumpkin in a while, Groose wasn't up to date on the tricks Cawlin would pull from his sleeve to get past Kina. At least he could get a drink and let this whole situation simmer. He would be okay — awkward, not necessarily happy, and upset, but okay. And in a crappy situation like his, being okay was the best he could ask for.
Groose remained on the side as Cawlin whipped out an envelope from his pocket, slipping it over to Pumm as they arrived at the counter. "I'll have three double-distilled Pumpkin Punches, soon," he said, watching Pumm cut open the envelope and glance through it. A weary sigh escaped him as he finished reading over the words, before he gave them a reluctant frown through his beard.
"Fine," he said plainly, turning around and brewing their drinks. "Sit wherever."
Knights had begun flooding into the place, perplexed at the sight of the trio, though were less fussy about it. Cawlin and Stritch quickly stole a set of tables in the middle of the room, right below the bright, glittering chandelier above. It was shaped almost like a pumpkin, each arm curved up and down in just the right way to resemble one. Little necklaces, bracelets, and even rupees were all dangling from it. After every night, everyone would throw something up to the roof. And that flimsy little chandelier caught quite a bit. At least it looked really nice.
"You gonna sit with us, bud?" Cawlin asked.
"I… probably not. I'll just wait here for my drink then take a seat somewhere a bit less crowded. I-I'll be back, I just need… a moment," he mumbled, picking up his drink from one of the servers as the other two took their respective drinks.
They both shrugged, clinking their drinks together. "Eh. At least you agreed to come to us for a drink. See ya around." Cawlin shrugged, waving him away.
Groose shuffled up the stairs, past the growing crowd of tired knights who were celebrating Link's return. On the second floor, there was a bit more of a cozy vibe. More spaced-out seats, more windows, and the light from the chandelier was a bit less bright. On the few occasions he was here, usually before drinking hours, he and his father would take seats up here and stare outside. But, with or without him, Groose sat by a window and watched the moon rise above the sea of clouds slowly. His drink was cold, a chunk of a pumpkin cut and set cleanly on the edge of the cup.
Hesitantly, he lifted it to his lips and took a sip, the buzz of the alcohol hitting him before the sweetness of the pumpkin. The liquid barely drained from the full cup. He already wanted to stop, but it was rude to just drain the whole thing. So, he inhaled deeply and took one more. He remained this way for quite some time, drinking once every so often.
In the hustle of the ever-more crowded Pumpkin, Groose didn't notice that someone was trying to get to him until they were already in the seat across. His absent-minded gaze quickly shot toward them, his head starting to feel a bit fuzzy from the drink, as he deciphered their form with a few blinks. Turns out, it was Kina, again, looking a lot less angry than before. She was tense by the shoulders but was otherwise okay. "Hmm?" he mumbled, looking her over as he put down his drink. A brief wave of shame washed over him as he realized he had somehow downed half the thing without noticing.
"Hey," she said politely. "I usually struggle to spot people after they come in, but I'd recognize that bright red hair anywhere. It's… nice, y'know?"
Groose shrugged, nudging the glass as far away as he could on the tiny table. "I guess."
"I saw you with those two shit-eating jerks back out front. If it wasn't for that damn cupcake, you three wouldn't be in here, but… I guess I can't kick you out now. Besides." She jerked her head toward the edge of the balcony, the sound of a slight crash downstairs matching her words. "At least someone's not on their third drink already."
"I don't handle alcohol well. I didn't think they'd get double-distilled — hell, I don't even know what it means." He looked over the glass with disdain, trying to blink out some of the blur in his eyes. "All I know is that it's not gonna be good for me… and that sucks. Hic!"
Kina snickered at the reaction, pushing the glass away from the edge of the table, right between them. "You don't seem like it. I can hardly see you beyond that bright red hair, but I can tell you're not a drinker. Which makes me wonder why you followed those two anyway. You clearly don't enjoy their shit."
"No…" —he wiped his eyes— "no, I don't. But… one drink won't be… too bad, right?" He tried to smile, to which he received a look of disappointment. He shook his head and sighed, trying to regain control of himself. He was down half a glass. He would down the rest, and then he would relax. "Look, I'm just… not in a good spot."
"Wing Ceremony loss, I take it," she said plainly, her gaze drifting outside. "I wish I knew how flying in general felt, but I understand the struggle. You were one of the golden bird chasers, weren't you?"
"Yeah, yeah. One of five, but… some other kid got it and I was falsely accused and… I've been spiraling since."
"And you went for a drink?"
Groose leaned more on the table, trying to keep his eyes on the starry night outside instead of the drink brushing against his arm. He couldn't see it super clearly, but he saw what he needed to: A still, gentle sky. And he liked it, truly. He would rather see it under different circumstances. "I was gonna clean my room, take a walk, prepare for school in a month, but… they just waltzed in. I owe them some time after isolating like that, though, you know? And if they want me to take drinks, sure. I shouldn't be all mopey, anyway."
"At least get in here legally, next time," she teased, smirking at him. It faded quick, but it was nice while it lasted. "And about… the Wing Ceremony… at least appreciate that you flew at all, yeah?"
"Hah. Flew miserably…" He almost reached for the drink before smacking his own hand out of it.
"Flew at all," she affirmed. "Not everybody's got the skill, luck, or passion. And not everybody wants to. Sometimes people just drop out and start businesses of their own, like my old man. And sometimes those businesses don't go hunky-dory, like my old man's." Out of the corner of her eye, she shot him a brief death glare. "Mind explaining what business deal your little bird-brained small friend keeps bringing up to get free drinks?"
Groose shook his head. "I wish I knew. Hic… sorry, but… yeah, no idea." His vision blurred some more, the sky outside becoming nothing but shades of blue and purple. "They just… have something going on. I don't know enough about it." He and Kina stopped looking out of the window and back at each other, still able to hear the mild commotion one floor down. "One thing I do know: they're smart about it."
"Tch. Probably the only thing they're smart in. Manipulation. Of course Hylia had to give them some talent."
CRASH!
Everyone but Kina flinched at the sound of the crash downstairs, so strong that the chandelier even shook, before she stood with a fed-up face. "I'll deal with it. You should finish up your drink, though. See ya, goose."
She stamped away, down the stairs and out of sight. Without her to distract him, the call of the drink was a lot louder now, not to mention her passing words. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't leave once he entered. Some knight would allow him to hitch a ride back to Skyloft. It was… also probably best to leave before anything happened again. As such, he grabbed his, now warm, drink, and chugged the rest in one go. It left drops on his lips and chin, but that was fine. He cleaned up his spot, flipped the cup over a tissue, and made his way back downstairs.
"H-hHEY! I'm… phfhfuckin', WALKING h-hic-here!"
Cra-crash! Clink clink CRACK! Thud, THUMP!
"SCRAM OR SCREAM YOU LITTLE SHITS!"
"H-hic-HIYAH!"
"OOF!"
CRASH!
By the time Groose's foot was on the highest step, about to go down, he saw Stritch and Cawlin making a mad dash up the stairs. Their clothes were stained with bright orange, their chins soaked in the same liquid, dilated eyes and fists clenched. Behind them, Kina was on the floor, tossing and turning with her head clenched in her hands, shouting something. Knights were already in quick pursuit of the two, holding their swords by the blade and wielding them like bats. He froze, conflicted, only reacting when they charged him. "OoOOUTTA OUR WAY!" Cawlin shrieked, his words slurred and high-pitched as he careened into Groose.
Half on instinct, half on a deep rage boiling in his gut, he swung a reckless punch in their direction, falling back onto the banister after he did so. He blinked his blurry eyes clear, getting a glimpse of the impact — Stritch face-down while Cawlin was getting up — before he got to his feet. The knights once in pursuit stopped behind Groose, hesitant to keep moving when the clear connection hit them. But they didn't matter. The drink from earlier didn't matter. He would help them out and kick out these two dunderheads. He got to his feet and stormed over to the two, trying to shake off the buzz that ran wildly through his skull.
He was quickly hit in the nuts.
"C-can't you — hic — just LEAVE! Get out offhf… o-our… PLACE!" Cawlin slurred, throwing uncontrolled punches at Groose. Some hit, most missed, but they hurt more than they should've. And that pissed him off.
Groose stepped back with his rear foot, his leg wobbling but stable enough, and threw a hard punch. His knuckles flew into the bridge of Cawlin's nose, and a loud POP was heard across the room. He didn't stick around to watch the blood spray from his nostrils, dropping levels to hook him in the body. He wrapped an arm around the nape of his neck, throwing him into a wooden pillar.
CRACK!
He took a breath and shuffled back, staring down the increasingly blurry figure that was hopefully Cawlin. The knights behind him began to cheer a little, some even sheathing their weapons and taking seats to let the situation handle itself. He didn't give it thought, not that he had the time, as Stritch leaped onto him and began choking him, an arm pressing against his throat. A moment later, Stritch's hand shoved Groose's neck further into the choke, the world blurring immensely. Groose threw his back against the wall, twice. The pain shot through Stritch into Groose, but the choke let go, right as Cawlin kneed him in the nuts.
"H-H-HIC — DIE!"
Cawlin threw more strikes, up down left right, as Cawlin joined his side and did the same. The alcohol in Groose's stomach began rising, ejecting right out of his mouth in a spray of orange and dark greens, directly into their faces. He collapsed, they screamed, someone ran up the stairs.
"YOU SHITTERS! GET BACK HERE!"
CLAAA-AAAAA-AAANG!
A cry so ugly it could deafen Loftwing's erupted from… someone, as Groose got back to his senses and began attacking again. The shouts were louder. The hits were harder, back and forth. His knuckles were sore and ached, red blood and other fluids staining them. Was he crying? Or was he poked in the eye? What difference did that even make?
"FOCUS!"
THUD!
"LllEAVE USsphh… NOW!"
"OOF!"
Groose caught a flicker of Kina being slammed against the wooden pillar again, reacting instinctively as he shoved by someone and hit the figure restraining her. Cawlin. Kina rolled away as Groose began screaming and hitting even harder and sloppier than before. There were other screams of deeper voices, all a haze in his head as he kept hitting Cawlin. He threw himself into him, kicking him against the pillar several times.
CRACK! THUD! CREAK!
CLING! CLING CLANG! CLING CLANG JINGLE—
CRAASSHHHH!
…
An eerie silence followed the ear splitting sound, the action ceased, a moment of sobriety hitting them all. The knights, Kina, Groose, and a beaten-to-hell Cawlin and Stritch all looked over the balcony, spotting the prized pumpkin-shaped chandelier in pieces across several tables downstairs. The whole place was… a lot darker without those dozen or so candles floating high. Thankfully, they were all covered, so no fires spread. But the light was just bright enough that Pumm's infuriated expression was visible in the darkness. Not a wood passed through his lips before he threw something up to the balcony, right under everyone's feet.
"…Huh?" Groose picked up the orange pouch, not noticing as Kina and a handful of knights began backing away, mostly leaving Groose and co. to stare at the pouch. "What's—"
Poof!
"Lights out," a deep voice grumbled from downstairs, as Cawlin, Stritch, and Groose all collapsed to the ground.
The next morning.
Groose awoke in his bed, surprisingly not groggy, and sat up. Everything was… oddly blurry. And oddly painful, as well. His hair and clothing was a bit ruffled, but, other than some green stains on his sleeve, they were clean. It didn't really feel like anything had changed since his spiral, minus the slight buzz in his brain and his cleanly room. Oh, and two letters awaiting him at the bottom of his door. Confused, he got up and, after organizing his bed, scooped up the letters and read them. The first was from his father, and was… very concerning. There were splotches of ink and an odd amount of damage on the parchment, like the quill was being stabbed straight through.
Groose.
I'm disappointed in you. I'm not helping you out of this.
Good luck.
-Pops.
A bolt of fear ran through him as he read that. His hands quivered as he dropped the letter back on his desk. He could hear his father reading that aloud in his mind, and he immediately knew he fucked up bad. Not to mention the locket within, the one he held so close to his heart. With no time to waste, he picked up the second letter, hoping for a continuation. And he got one.
Goose.
So, because of that scuffle back at the Lumpy Pumpkin, my pops has decided to strike a deal with Gaepora. Basically, help the Lumpy Pumpkin for rupees to help pay off the chandelier.
Oh, and if you don't come today, then you will be permanently barred from the Academy as a whole.
I'll be waitin'!
-Kina.
(P.S. If you're wondering how your shitstain "friends" are doing, they're currently in the medical ward of the Academy. They've gotten punishment enough.)
One single thought rang through Groose's, quickly emptying, mind.
One single word bounced from one corner of his brain to the other.
One itsy bitsy little thing…
'FUCK!'
A/N - OOPS!
Sorry about the almost two month wait, everyone! Life kinda slapped me in the face and also I had plans of rewriting this in First Person Present which I might do. Anyway, sorry for the break and if this chapter is a bit lax. I'll see you eventually, everyone!