Y.Z.: Act II (PG16)

OOC: Nope, I'm good. :3 Sorry for the full OOC, but with the discussion thread being locked up and all...well, just didn't want anyone waiting on my account. You can assume Reece having found his way up on deck too. I'd give an IC, but given that there's not really anything more to say right now, I don't think it would be worth it. D=

"...What happened?" Reid muttered in reply as he got to his feet, eying the girl carefully. Well, it would make sense that she wouldn't have been conscious when it had all taken place. In the end, he decided against informing her of all the details. If needed, her faels would do the explaining anyways. "Just... don't listen to Jeckt anymore. He's an idiot." The the realm of faels, their subconsciousnesses, Mistral stuck her tongue out in the bound Jeckt's direction, as if she had manipulated Reid into saying what he had. The two truly were opposites, through and through. The group numbers finally increased as the rest of their merry band rejoined the ranks. "...Nice of you guys to show up." The brown haired boy murmured as he brought his right hand to his forehead, and buried his face in it. It was one of those days that just put him in a plain old bad mood, and the fact that he was ticked off shined brightly. "Faewyn, you lead. We don't have time to dilly dally around here, since they know our location." He grimaced, full well knowing this meant he wouldn't have an opportunity to get changed into warmer clothes. "You know the country, so you need to take us to where we need to go..."

OOC: Really short post, and I apologize. I don't want to touch on the apostles for a bit.

"I...oh, okay."

Faewyn had almost forgotten about their mission in all the commotion. After the relieving news that Alicel was alive and well, she had entertained the hope that maybe, maybe things would get more peaceful for a while, that they'd take a small pause to properly tend to their wounded and swap news, but one glance at Reid had been enough to crush that frail little hope. He was angry, she could tell, angry and disappointed.

Disappointed with her.

The girl hung her head ever so slightly as she disembarked the ship with the others behind her, the sound of boots striking cobbled pavement or the occasional pile of half-melted snow and the howl of the northern wind constituting the only sounds. This whole thing just felt wrong. She was home now, there was no mistaking the steep mountain tops and biting gale, she was with friends, so why...why couldn't she be happy? Faewyn risked only the briefest of glances at the others, not wanting them to spot her gloomy expression. She still couldn't bring herself to look at Reece, the soldier currently keeping the rear of the group, though she suspected that this was more for the wounds than any strategic reason. His expression was one of grim determination, his whole attention seemingly focused on the task at hand. Faewyn bit her lip, wishing to speak up in her usual manner but finding that she couldn't. Everyone seemed so...tense, so focused, and no matter how much she wanted to lighten up the oppressive mood, Faewyn just couldn't help the feeling that her usual brand of chit-chat wouldn't be appreciated.

'When...when did it get like this?' she pondered for herself as she navigated a path between the structures surrounding the docking bay. As was standard for Beta, the architecture was practical in the extreme, dominated by well-isolated stone structures with steep, reversed V-shaped roofs, designed to allow the snow to slide down before it reached roof-breaking volumes. Thick, metal pipes, the likes of which were embedded beneath the streets, snaking their ways across walls and into the pavement, the thermal energy radiating from them keeping the streets clear while the ever-so-slight tilt caused the excess water to slither down into the drains on the sides. There were so many things she would have liked to tell her friends, so many things that Reid should have known too - about the faels, the things Velin had said - but she just couldn't take the chance. What if Reid would get even angrier? What if he and Reece ended up in a fight and-

"Here now, what's this supposed to be, then?"

Faewyn was snapped out of her thoughts as the demanding male voice struck her eardrums, the girl's attention immediately snapping to the man in front of him. He was dressed in a thick, grey fur coat, with an equally thick hat of the same color residing on his head, a pair of heavy, black boots on his feet residing on the street as he maintained a casual pose. Between the tall collar of the coat and the flaps on each side of the hat, the man's features were almost completely obscured, save for the piercing blue eyes and the reddened nose, but Faewyn's mind immediately registered 'militia'. Sure enough, several other figures donning equally casual clothing - well, by Beta standards anyway - were located around the area. The Betan military had never been particularly big, and as such they had never had a thing for openly flaunting their allegiance either. Discretion was the better part of valor, after all.

Right until they pounced.

"Tealian soldiers, eh?" the man continued, taking a few steps forward as he gave the group a critical glance, "Some of you, at least, and armed to the teeth by the looks of you." his eyes narrowed, even as his hands remained casually stuffed in the pockets of his coat, "Well, out with it; what's your business here in Beta? If you really do represent the Tealian military then you should already know that you have no right to bear arms here. We may be a peaceful nation, but we don't take kindly to bands of armed hooligans traversing our streets."


OOC: Yeah, gonna' have to stop here. Do with the security guy as you please, official papers or whatever, I just thought it would be odd for a group this bizarre not to attract any attention whatsoever (and I needed a point to cut this post off at, so...).

Reid rolled his eyes at the appearance of Beta's militia. This was unexpected, but not as unexpected as for the boy to be unprepared. "Reid Davies, Tealian Special Forces." The boy whipped his badge out of his front pocket and threw it at the man who appeared to be the leader, along with a stack of papers. The man gave him a look that implied he was questioning whether or not that was the truth. After all, Reid had no wings, and wingless were rare in any forces other than in the Underneath. "I'm sure you'll find these in order. We're only here to visit the home of our friend here, nothing more. No trouble will come of this." He was lying through his teeth, of course. He failed to relay the true nature of the mission, and he suspected they would be attacked by the apostles again while present in the country, so trouble most likely wouldn't be avoided. "However, if you feel you'd like to question these orders, I'm required to inform you ahead of time that I am permitted to use force within the borders of any country as per Section 4, Clause 5 of the International Defense Agreement signed by all nations in 85 Y.Z." With that said, Reid motioned to the rest of the group to keep moving, hoping this militia wasn't stupid enough to try and pursue them. As a final warning, Reid decided to speak up as he walked past them. "Remember, if anything were to happen to us, Tealia would be here in a snap. Last I checked, our forces GREATLY outnumber yours." He then walked up behind Faewyn and whispered into her ear. "Keep walking, I'll stay in the back in case they really DO try something."

Aertan's gaze was most likely that of an incredibly hostile and defensive look. Even he knew what kind of dark expression must've crossed his face when the soldier had referred to him as a hooligan. And a Tealian soldier. Having long calmed his mind earlier from being worried about the others doubting his loyalty due to him being completely unharmed, (nobody seemed to even notice,) Aertan had enough sense to paint a light look of indifference onto his face. The ex-priest found himself unable to find a place to put his gaze, as he didn't want to stare at the Beta troops, nor did he want to look at the endless masses of snow. He finally glanced at Alicel's limp figure for the first time since he'd told Haeon't and Geote to pick her up. It was an interesting idea to ponder, as to why Reid had made no comment about Alicel, but Aertan wasn't particularly looking forward to delay because of her anyway. It just seemed like she was just unconscious now, in no state of danger; Except for the danger of the accumulating annoyance that Aertan was suffering from. Why should he have to carry her about?

A pair of crimson eyes disappeared underneath Aertan's eyelids as he let the smallest smirk grace his lips, hearing Reid vouch for their position in a way that really didn't impress the priest. After all, one could certainly tell that Reid was just hardly a teenager, let alone an adult who could threaten others with the statement 'I am permitted to use force'. Aertan opened his eyes again and kept a confused expression from surfacing as he thought about the principles about violence he'd been preached about on a daily basis when he was younger, reminding him of Tylonstus, which consequently brought his gaze to his left arm. He should've changed the bandages on his arm halfway to Beta. But, the Apostle attack had delayed that. Well, Aertan reasoned, looking away defiantly, it wasn't important anyway. The stump of an arm hadn't caused him any pain since the morning anyway.

Adela, who hadn't let herself ponder over Reid's words about Jeckt for very long before she was ushered off the ship, folded her arms. She grabbed Reid's shoulder, pulling him back and stepping up to the plate herself.

"My sincerest apologies for his rude behavior." Adela said with a fabricated voice that feigned remorse, her excellent acting skills when it came to being innocent and sweet being applied in the heaviest coatings as she tilted her head down, "I hope it won't be a bother, for you to read the paperwork. We intend no harm here in Beta, so please forgive us for being armed," She chimed, smiling as disarmingly as she could as she extracted her badge from the side pocket of her bag, "It's essential that we are able to protect ourselves at all times. I hope it's no trouble…?"

A little boy and girl watched the whole scene from inside Adela's mind, and after Adela's rather blunt and rude behavior toward Reid, the boy lifted his gaze up to the girl, who was turning a deep shade of red.

"…Way to be." The boy said sarcastically, referring to both Adela's rude attitude to Reid after he'd helped her retrieve her memories and the little girl's overreaction that caused the whole scenario in the first place.

"I-I can't help that she doesn't remember what happened!" She retorted defensively, flushing even more as she stuck her nose up in the air.

"I see."

The officer's response to Reid's and Adela's combined assault was rather reminiscent of the air around him: calm and utterly frigid. Casting a quick glance at the documents and realizing, much like anyone who had dealt with bureaucracy for a longer period of time, that the accuracy of these documents was barely an issue; their wording and sheer mass kept the information content spread so thin and scattered so far that piecing it together on the spot was a futile endeavor. Instead, he focused on inspecting Reid's badge carefully while his cohorts slowly tightened their ranks in front of the advancing group. Just as Faewyn was afraid that it was all going to burst into conflict, however, the leader calmed his men with a simple hand gesture.

"It's alright." he said at last, walking back to the group, "Your story holds for now. However, I'm required to inform you that the International Defense Agreement you cited does not cover foreign agents undertaking any action that may be seen as compromising the national security of the country in question, including the perusing, copying, or obtaining of any documents of considerable military or political importance. Any such behavior will be interpreted as an open declaration of war on the sovereign nation of Beta, and under such circumstances any agreements concerning the withholding of specific documents -- ones which, I feel inclined to add, the nation of Carn has expressed keen interest in -- will be considered null and void." his face was mere inches from Reid's as he ended his speech, unceremoniously placing an object in the teenager's hand, "Your badge, Tealian Special Forces agent Reid Davies. I wish you a pleasant stay."

With that and another quick hand gesture, his henchmen moved back, allowing the group free passage. Faewyn still kept an eye on the officer, experiencing the uncomfortable sensation that the other was doing the same to her, and it wasn't until they had left the thick fur coat a good bit behind them that the girl finally managed to breathe out.

"That...was close." the girl said in a hushed voice, "We should do this fast. A lot of military people knew mama and I don't like the way he was looking at me." she gave an involuntary shudder, "I was really small back when we had officers checking in on the house, but if he does a background check he will figure it out and then we're in trouble. Come on." she quickened her pace, "It's just a little bit further and then we're...here."

With that, Faewyn came to a halt between one of the many houses lining the streets. On the outside, it didn't look that different from the others: just a pair of hexahedron-shaped blocks, a smaller one perched on a larger, with reverse-V roofs, but the sight didn't fail to illicit a nostalgic little smile from Faewyn as she stepped on the third of the small, wooden stairs leading up to the front door.

"Hasn't changed a bit..." she mumbled in a voice choked with emotion, but she soon snapped out from her reverie, realizing that the others were probably freezing, impatient, and not at all in the mood for her childhood reveries, "Oh, hold on..." she mumbled, fumbling around her pockets, "Just a moment...I've got something right here." smiling triumphantly, the girl procured a small metallic object from her pocket. It was a key, just a regular house key, the luster of its gray surface long since lost to age. Though it was obvious that it had been carried around for quite a while, it was equally obvious that it had been taken care of with great care. There was no sign of rust on the object, and as Faewyn pressed it into the keyhole, prodding it in for a while to dislodge the ice that had gathered inside of it, the lock gave a resounding click, the door it was attached to offering no resistance as the girl pushed it open, even as the hinges groaned at the inconvenience.

The inside of the house was dark and coated with dust and - not unsurprisingly - the light switch gave no reaction when Faewyn pushed it. No-one had occupied the house for a long time; it stood to reason that no-one would keep supplying electricity and water to it either. Faewyn didn't mind, though; she remembered. As soon as she had slipped out of her boots and felt the old floorboards beneath her feet, the memories came rushing back. It was like each and every plank was an old friend she had almost forgotten about, and she could practically see the interior in front of her as she wandered through the entry hall and into the darkened interior of the living room. The couch just slightly to the left of the center, overlooking the square-shaped wooden table and the fireplace in the wall, the bookcases one the left-hand wall, occupying every bit between itself and the large window at the middle of the wall, papa's armchair in the corner, the staircase up to their personal rooms, the kitchen on the right with its tiled floor...they were all right there in front of her, even though she remembered how all the furniture was covered beneath white sheets to protect it from dust, like so many ghosts out in the gloom.

Faewyn suddenly shook her head. No, she couldn't get sidetracked by memories now. This was a mission, an important one, and they didn't have time to spare for this sort of thing. Inwardly reprimanding herself for spacing off, Faewyn wandered over to the nearest window, pulling the curtains aside and allowing light to flood into the living room as she unlocked and opened the window to let some fresh air in. The place was dusty, a fact that was all the more evident in the daylight, but besides that she was pleased to note that everything was precisely in the order she had left it: tucked away beneath the protective sheets.

"Come on in!" pausing by the entrance of the kitchen where the next set of curtains lay in wait, "I'm just going to open up some windows and then I'll be right with you!"

OOC: HOMG, I did manage to retype this tonight after all. It's not as detailed as the original, but it should do the job. x3

"She's opening windows in a place with this kind of climate?" Mistral spat rudely to nobody other than Reid. While so much different than the boy, it seemed faels shared some similarities with their hosts. Since Reid was cold, the fael girl was feeling a similar annoyance by the bitterly frigid air, enough so that Reid's inner mind had taken the form of a tundra. Like Reid, Mistral was apparently easily irritated when nature wasn't in her favor. Reid sneezed. While he was allergic to dust, and an inspection of the house provided evidence to that being the cause, there was the chance he had indeed caught a cold. The boy sighed, before snapping his fingers, allowing a light breeze to float through the house, lifting a good majority of the dust and replacing the old and stale smelling air.

Reid hadn't said anything when Adela had stepped in back when the militia had appeared, and he had said nothing to her since. What was he doing!? He was so confused. On one hand, he had promised Rosaline he would protect her, but he couldn't even do that! Then there was Adela, whom he was now contemplating his intentions with. Did he really feel anything, or was that just him being a fool and rushing in to something? Oh well, there was no point dwelling on it.

"Faewyn, we need to find what we're looking for and then we need to go to sleep." Reid announced to the whole group, although directed to the girl. "It wouldn't be smart to stay in one place for too long with those apostles aware of where we are. We're leaving in the morning."

-------

"We're attacking in the morning!?" Cress spat at Cressida, who just stared blankly at him. The entire group of apostles (Velin obviously excluded) had been summoned to the drawing room, where Cressida gave them their new orders as per the padre's request. The apostle boy grinned slightly. The stupid padre would be coming with them to evaluate the worth of each apostle. That would be the perfect time to strike, since he wasn't bringing any troops. He seemed to think Cressida would be adequate protection.

The big thing that worried Cress, however, was Kyra. Ever since her sister's death, she had been more quiet than usual, not even glancing at anyone. This kind of personality was dangerous, because there was no way to predict their next move...

Villa stood quietly, listening with a wistful expression. It was unusual, as when she was assigned missions that didn't involve experiments, she was often found with a look of sheer terror, or dismay. Now, it seemed as if she didn't even hear that Cressida had said that the Padre would come as well. As if the fact that he was judging their value didn't even affect her. In all reality, it probably didn't. She wasn't exactly made for the purpose of this mission in the first place. When Cressida finished speaking, Cress spoke up, leaving Villa to contemplate her curiosity as to when the meeting would be over. There had been too many consecutive meetings, and remembering it all was starting to make Villa feel a little woozy.

Looking up, Villa's face was unnaturally blank. She'd never been very good at hiding her emotions, but now, she wanted something.

"If that is all," Villa began quietly, hiding her mouth behind the sleeves of her dress, "I have something I must attend to."

With that, she turned on her heel and exited the drawing room, her platinum hair floating lightly behind her. Somehow, the ethereal strands of white never caught in her bladed wings, which were currently releasing bits of pressurized air with a sharp hissing sound every time they moved. The wings slowly wafted up and down with her every step, and when she reached her destination, the blades stretched out to their full span before folding tightly to her back, all in the blink of an eye. Resting her fingertips on the doorknob, she paused to stare at her fingers, still caked in blood. She hadn't had the sense to wash up, and besides, most of it had already been washed away before it had a chance to dry. Speaking of Wation...

Villa lifted her gaze from her hand and sniffed the air. She smelled less like Wation now, which would be best, if she was to face the Padre. Turning the doorknob defiantly, the seventh apostle stared quietly into a room, who's purpose nobody could mistake. A room that she'd seen very little of, despite how it's purpose related to hers. Treading lightly, Villa scanned the shelves. She knew exactly what the vile she was seeking looked like, but not where it was amongst the seemingly endless shelves. This minor set-back didn't seem to put her off however, as her eyes moved quickly. It was a distinct color. White, a pearly iridescent kind of white, and it seemed to swirl like a gaseous substance in it's container. She caught sight of it on the top shelf, and craning her neck back, Villa reached up her fingers. Not even the freakishly elongated hands could reach the top, and so, reluctantly, Villa used a ring of sand to bring the precious bottle down to herself. As the sand dissipated, the corked vile fell into the cup her sleeves had formed, before she looked around for an empty syringe that hopefully hadn't been used.

Of course, there weren't any simply laying around. And so Villa pulled open the drawers she recognized seeing opened the most. In due time, she found her syringe, and carefully used the syringe to suck out enough of the swirling liquid to fill half of the glass tube. She was so accustomed to the puncturing of needles, that Villa didn't even flinch when she punctured the never disappearing scar on her left arm, where all the liquids that were injected into her for experiments entered her system.

A burning sensation filled her arm and she took a sharp breath and held it, squeezing her eyes shut. She remembered this part now.




Not paying the slightest bit of attention while Haeon't and Geote stretched over to the couch to deposit their load, who was slowly and groggily coming to, Aertan first took note of the fact that it was obvious the house hadn't been heated in a long time. Second, he noticed the fireplace. Upon invitation to come inside from Faewyn, Aertan looked around. Though he'd caught a glimpse of Alicel's house, he'd really only seen the narrow hallway, and part of the kitchen. It was strange to be in a house that looked so much like a house, rather than a church with rooms that branched off the main hall where services were held. To Aertan, it felt...

Cramped.

Regardless, Aertan kept this rather rude comment to himself, since even he knew it wasn't normal to open the door and suddenly stop for a few seconds. Keeping his silence, Aertan walked over to the fireplace, vaguely aware of how his safety shoes seemed to clunk heavily against the floor. Squatting down, Aertan peered up the chimney, half expecting a huge cloud of soot to just suddenly fall onto his head and dye his hair and face black, like things always went. But nothing fell, and Aertan assumed that they were all probably frozen solid.

Adela was not nearly as silent as everyone else seemed to be, as the minute Faewyn gave her call of okay, she stepped into the room and was halfway through pulling off her jacket before she put it back on. So Adela hated jackets, but it was just as cold inside as it was outside.

"It's really dusty in-" Adela began, but Reid summoned a breeze and wiped out the dust that Adela had been planning on commenting on. Blinking she shrugged, deciding to comment on the next time that caught her attention, pretending as if she'd never said anything about the dust, "Wow, it's really cold in here!"

"Faewyn," Aertan's call interupted, now watching Geote poking at the pitiful remains of what was probably once wood, "Do you mind if I light the fireplace?"

Despite the direness of their situation, Faewyn was wrapped in happy recollections as she strode across the kitchen, opening up another window to create a clear path for the wind to travel and occasionally pulling a drawer open to check its contents, an action usually followed by a nostalgic little sniff. The frigid air didn't bother her; that was something she was used to, after all, and the house itself was well-isolated, just like the rest of the structures in Beta. The fact that, even with such isolation, the temperature was several degrees below Tealian average had not even occurred to her.

It was not until Reid's request to hurry up with the search that she -- somewhat reluctantly -- left memory lane behind her, placing her old favorite mug back on its proper spot, unable to resist a tiny sigh at how unfair this was.

"Oh, right, coming!" the girl called, half-running back into the living room, now quite crowded, "You...I guess you can do that." she replied to Aertan's question about the fireplace, feeling an immediate need to explain the reluctance in her tone, "It's just a silly old memory." she elaborated sheepishly, "Mama...never wanted me to use the fireplace when they were away. She was..." the girl sighed, "...she was afraid I'd burn myself, I guess." the girl couldn't help a slight blush of embarrassment, "Umm...don't mind that, though, go right ahead. If..." she cast a glance at the gathered jackets in the room, all firmly buttoned, "If you're all really that cold."

She shook her head, as if to dislodge the current train of thought, "But we didn't come her to talk about childhood memories, did we? Mama's journals..." Faewyn bit her lip in thought, "She'd keep them well hidden, I'm sure. Ever since...ever since that one time when I found one of her mahstion books and-well..." the girl cast a meaningful glance at the slightly uneven thumb on her right hand, "Anyway, that one was in her study, supporting a table leg, right by the secret compartment behind the bookcase. Mama always said that there was no better way of flagging what you're trying to hide than making a hidden compartment so if you find any the notes inside will be fake. The real notes will be somewhere where you don't look, something you just pass by without a second glance...maybe somewhere like a broom closet or something?"

"Good enough for me." Reece remarked with a shrug, still firmly avoiding eye contact with the girl as he propped himself away from the wall he had been leaning against, striding towards the staircase, "We're not doing any good just navel-gazing here, so I say we split up and search; if anyone finds something or comes up with a new idea, just give a holler." with a curt nod towards the group, the soldier wandered up the stairs, clearly in no mood for interjections.

Faewyn bit down a bit harder on her lip, her eyes staring absently at Aertan's doings by the fireplace. No...that didn't sound like something her mother would do either. Verdance was smarter than that; she wouldn't just make the place unlikely so that someone could find it by accident, not if she knew that she'd most likely not come back. No, she would want to minimize the chances of anyone not knowing precisely what to look for ever getting their hands on the notes. She would make it a one strike and you're out situation, but at the same time she'd want to minimize the chance of someone triggering her trap by accident. That meant that she would leave hints for those she trusted, somehow...without drawing attention to it she would-

The realization suddenly hit Faewyn, her eyes widening on queue. Of course! It was precisely mama's style, it was so...obvious. She would rig a trap that would catch a foreign infiltrator, and what was the first thing someone from Carn or Tealia would do when they were faced with a desolate, unwarmed hovel without functioning light or heating?

There was no time for words, by the time she had finally managed to piece the sentence together Faewyn was already halfway through interposing Aertan's attempt at lighting the fireplace.

"Aertan! Don't!" the girl hastily dropped to her knees in front of the fireplace, her heart beating rapidly as she examined its interior, "Don't light that...it's...I think...no, I know. That's why-mama's instructions, they-"

She picked up one of the logs that had been stapled inside, grasping it firmly with both hands, despite the thick layer of soot on top, and swinging it at the brick fireplace with all her might, the worn wood shattering into tiny splinters, all save for the core.

It went thump.

Brushing aside the remnants of wood from the square-shaped object in her hands, the girl smiled triumphantly, taking a deep breath and blowing away the dirt. As she did so the object was indeed confirmed as a journal with a grayish cover. In fact, the cover of the journal was adorned by precisely the same pattern as the wood it had been buried inside. The pages, it seemed, were covered with a protective film of some kind, which -- a quick sniff revealed -- had a distinctly flammable smell to it. There was no mistaking the flourish of the handwriting within, however; all pretty curves and pressed tightly together over next to every inch of paper not occupied by sketches. Much like with Faewyn's journals, overlinings and footnotes dotted the pages, but these were all neatly stapled and organized.

"They were there so I wouldn't burn these. She covered all the pages in some kind of flammable wax." Faewyn explained, unable to resist a loving smile at the pages as she flipped through them, transfixed "One spark and all of it would have burned up...that's mama's style, alright." she cast a glance at the remaining logs, "There are probably more of them there, we should check those before lighting any fires."

It had been good then, that Aertan had hesitated with lighting the fire. After all, the house had looked well abandoned for awhile, and he'd worried about the chimney being covered in soot or ice. Ice would just put his flame out when it melted, and soot would not be a happy experience. That, and that Faewyn hadn't seemed all too thrilled with the idea of him lighting a fire.

Aertan sat frozen, gazing with wide eyes at the papers in Faewyn's hands. He was still shocked by how sudden her halting call was. When Faewyn explained the situation, Aertan let out the breath he'd been holding, as if his very breath would set the pages on fire. (He wouldn't be surprised if they did.) It was good that he hadn't started the fire then, even though everyone other than Faewyn seemed freezing. Otherwise everything would've been just a waste of time. Standing up, Aertan peeled off his own jacket, which was incredibly warm. He, personally, wasn't cold at all, as warm mahstion particles seemed to stick to him. It was like having his own personal fireplace at all times. Throwing the black coat at Reid who looked colder than anyone else, Aertan turned back to look at the fireplace.

"I never would've thought of that." Aertan mumbled, not daring to poke his head back into the fireplace. He wasn't going to take his chances this time, and instead he opted to watch Faewyn flick through the notebook she'd pulled out. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the click of the open window closing however, and craning his neck around, he sighed in relief when he saw Alicel at the window, looking groggy and sleep-deprieved, even though she'd gotten more sleep then anyone in the house. She floated back to the couch and sat down, still looking like she half-asleep. Not commenting on her, Aertan turned his gaze back to the fancy handwriting. His own handwriting was an ugly scrawl, narrow and tightly pressed together.

"Where are we?" Alicel inquired at the same time Aertan began to speak.

"How long is it going to take you to find what we're looking for?" Aertan asked, letting his eyes try and read the text upside down from a safe distance.

"Alicel, you're finally up!" Faewyn called cheerfully, beaming at her drowsy friend as another weight slipped off her shoulders, "It's...it's a relief. Anyway, this..." she made a sweeping gesture to encompass the room they were in and the ones adjoined to it, a slight flicker of pride in her voice, "...is my home. Though...I guess it would look more homey if the furniture wasn't all covered up."

"As for your question...I'm not sure..." Faewyn replied to Aertan, studying the notes -- detailing a Wionus-based levitation technique and, specifically, why it was a failure as far as practical use was concerned -- "It would help if I knew precisely what I was looking for. Now you said that you'd never heard about apostles until we ran into Cress, right?" she asked for confirmation, "Well, there was absolutely nothing on them in the Tealian database either. I checked that before we left. In fact, there's not a single piece of writing on them anywhere, and Carn really wants to win this war, right? If they had these apostles all along they would already have used them, I'm sure." she paused, rubbing her temples, "What I'm trying to say is...I can't just look up 'apostle' because no apostles existed when this was written. "

"I-I have a hunch, though..." Faewyn added, as if to reassure everyone that this wasn't half the wild goose chase that it was starting to look like, "You remember that mama and papa were investigating Carn when they...disappeared, right? They told me that they were going to investigate their culture, but..." she bit her lip, "Mama was the strongest Wionus user I've ever met, and papa used to work for the Tealian special forces before he got married. I just...I just can't picture both of them being needed for something like that. I think-no, I know that if mama would have heard about this she would have wanted to investigate." the girl chuckled slightly, "And when mama decided that something would get done, it always got done. She just was like that." the girl's expression turned serious, "If this really is it, then she would mention it somewhere in here...and it would explain why she would want it burned too. That sort of thing...she probably didn't want to risk Tealia trying it too." the girl paused, recalling Reid's patriotism and hastily adding, "It's nothing personal, I'm sure; mama just didn't like governments much. She said it comes with the job. Anyway, that's why I think that somewhere in here-"

The girl paused in mid-speech, her eyes falling on a singe line of text within the journal and her lips mouthing the words without her even noticing.

"Mahstion grafting?"

The girl's full attention was now turned to the words, her eyes traveling across the page at a rapid rate.

"29.7.193

A's research confirmed genetic route unfeasible. Unusually powerful internal mahstion presence at development stages results in high ratio of fetus deformation/miscarriage. Infant may also suffer neurological damage (Thaum syndrome)=> Thaumogen halts internal mahstion generation. Inhibition of thaumogen receptors results in mental disorder/death. (Exclusive choice of mahstion type genetic self-protection mechanism?) But A brought up an interesting point: body mahstion tolerance grows from exposure to internal mahstion presence. A person of age 8 or above may be suitable subject for grafted organ. A is pursuing the theory. (Respectfully declined use of F as a research subject) Report promised on a later date. K expressed concern over the project and I can see what he means: human beings are not naturally adapted to wielding multiple types of mahstion. There will most likely be complications beyond those normally associated with grafting. Still, this theory is too intriguing to simply ignore."

Faewyn felt a slight chill that had nothing to do with the temperature creep up her spine. There was just something...unsettling about seeing her beloved mother speculate over the deaths of small children in such a callous manner. She didn't know what the 'F' referred to, but the fact that she had been ten years old back then didn't exactly make her feel at ease. Still, Faewyn pushed on...this was just the way her mother wrote things: short and straight to the point. The decision to respectfully decline had, she told herself, certainly been made out of love.

The girl refused to believe anything else.

Skipping past a couple of morbidly interesting but currently not that relevant pages detailing the process of grafting the limb of one human being onto another while keeping both alive -- complete with sketches a bit too detailed for comfort -- Faewyn finally found the entry she had been looking for:

"21.9.197

A few quick lines before K comes around to give the inevitable lecture.

The graft project has proven far more volatile than expected. Out of 20 subjects, 5 have survived thus far, and this is using the term loosely. Aside from usual graft rejections, the subjects have exhibited most peculiar and gruesome symptoms. Though A insists that these are freak incidents, I can not erase the image of a subject's arm seeking to burn itself to cinders from my mind, nor that of the blind girl who insisted on being treated, now comatose with fingernails growing at nearly thrice the normal rate and cerebral activity all but ended. Thaum syndrome is rampant, and I have my doubts about the survival of even these last subjects. Tried in vain to persuade A out of continuing the project. He remains strangely enthusiastic and mentioned that a foreign colleague has shown interest in his work. I can only imagine who...or why.

Note to self: take the matter up with L later on, this bears closer investigation.


16.10.197

I have no doubt that this journal will make for an awkward legacy, but should I fail to return it is imperative that this information be passed to those it concerns and no-one else. Alexander Thaum has left the country and somehow eluded the covert ops, his latest research notes -- needless to say -- have disappeared with him. Officially, this case does not exist and thus it is best not to inform official sources about anything contained within this journal. Though evidence is lacking at best, what little I have managed to coax out of L seems to indicate that he is headed for Carn out of all places. Needless to say, covert ops are fidgety at best, as relations with the country are already strained due to our information suppression agreement with Tealia. L is going to investigate, and I simply can't allow him to leave on such a dangerous task alone. I have left F in the care of K; he may not approve of my decision, but he knows as well as I that burdening her with an issue of this magnitude would neither be fair nor reasonable. The fewer know of this the better.

Given that you are reading this, I must assume that the worst has happened. I have not returned from Carn and am in all likelihood dead or in the process of being interrogated, but more crucially -- know that this means that the graft project is still in operation. You have also refrained from lighting this on fire, so I must assume that you have either gained my brother's trust or are exceptionally perceptive. In either case, you have passed the test. Do not, I repeat: do not attempt to track me down. I am most likely deceased and it is far more important that these inhuman experiments are terminated once and for all. I do not know why a country so hostile towards science as Carn would foster the development of such maverick technology, but I have no doubt that their cause is far from noble. Imagine for yourself: if a partial graft on a subject of frail health can create a monster, what will the full fusion of two healthy human beings form? Carn imprisons a good million people a year for crimes against Thylonstus, should Thaum or whoever seduced him be in a high enough position, materials would be the least of their worries.

Enclosed with this journal, I have left a compendium of offensive mahstion techniques as well as what little information I've secured on the graft subjects; I can only hope that they will be of some assistance in terminating this menace.

Also, as a final request, my last will: please make sure that my daughter, Faewyn, will not get involved in this in any manner. This is all I ask in return for the information I've enclosed here. I may have failed in my original task, I may have failed in my aspirations to become a good mother, but she should not have to suffer for my mistakes. The third journal enclosed within this pile is addressed solely to her and has no bearing on anyone else. Please deliver it to her as soon as possible. She is a bright young woman and will, I'm sure, see reason once she has read its contents.

Sincerely,

Verdance Ayre"

Faewyn was speechless, her eyes nailed to the last lines as tears began welling up from them -- irrefutable scientific evidence that her parents had loved her, but at the same time, it was basically proof that despite her best efforts...

"Mama..." she grit out, her grip around the journal tightening, "She's...she's really..."

The girl's shoulders sagged, her body quaking violently in-between the sobs as they fought their way up. She had found her explanation alright, but next to this revelation it just seemed so...trivial...

It was just too much. She needed time to digest this, she needed...gosh darn it, she needed a hug, and right now the girl really didn't give a damn about the consequences, her arms firmly catching the closest victim in her vicinity: Aertan. Normally, she would have been very careful about touching him, but there were just times in life when you needed a shoulder to cry against, even if it wasn't a volunteered shoulder.

"She's gone!" the girl bawled at the top of her lungs, her face buried in ex-priest's shirt as her happy little world was basically shattering to tiny pieces around her, "She's-she's really gone, isn't she?" sure, probability had dictated that her parents would be dead, but seeing it stated so matter-of-factly in her mother's own, curly handwriting just brought the prospect to a whole new level of reality. Mama was always right, that was a belief she had clung to for years, but now it was wrestling with her equally fundamental belief that everything would turn out alright in the end if she just tried hard enough.

A single creak emerged from the staircase, the unmistakable sound that someone had taken a step there, but the person had already disappeared upstairs without another word.

"Fae..." Alicel murmured, torn to see her friend crying. She made an effort to stand, but her knees locked, and sent her back onto the couch with a splitting headache. Listening to Faewyn's cries, it was all Alicel could do not to cry with her. Sniffling, Alicel swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't want to add to Faewyn's pain, and this was a moment where Faewyn should've been allowed to cry shamelessly, without thought of how people around her might feel. Faewyn was always too kind a person.

A silence overcame Aertan when Faewyn threw her arms about him. Embraces were rare for Aertan, but though he normally made no effort to return them, in this moment his arms moved on their own. He put his hand lightly on the back of her head, and let his other arm rest on her back. The ex-priest was very aware of keeping the abrupt cut-off of his arm from touching her, as he listened to her words patiently. However, answering her question was something that Aertan could not bring himself to do. He personally felt that after so many years, there was little chance that the latter was the case. Carn had probably interrogated Faewyn's mother all they wanted by now, and long threw her away. Though Aertan wanted to tell Faewyn that this case was important, and that Carn would undoubtedly need all the answers from her mother they could get, he didn't know what to think anymore. The Carn in the journal was not the Carn that Aertan had lived in. And knowing Carn, any kind of Carn, they were not the type to keep people for long. He thought of Rosaline, who was kept captive for 16 years. But she was a special case. He took a moment to clear his thoughts, think only of what was at hand, and to put into words a response that might put Faewyn at ease.

"I'm sorry." Aertan mumbled quietly. The two words he'd managed to utter were far from what he'd imagined. He had little time to comprehend though, as he lifted his gaze to where the staircase was. There was only one person on the second floor. And that person, Aertan thought with a displeased look, should've been the one here, with whole arms. He knew that if it was anyone else, they would've been able to say something to Faewyn that would keep her tears at bay. But Aertan knew that giving her a hope that could only be shattered by the real truth was the worst thing he could do. If he told her that her mother was surely still alive, lied about his experiences with that accursed King's tendencies, what would happen if she discovered the real proof that Verdance was dead? She would surely, surely hate him. When this thought passed through his mind, Aertan glared down at the journal before he thought of something that wasn't pure speculation. Something that wasn't just his mind moving in circles.

Adela opened her mouth to say something, though closed it immediately without letting a sound escape. She was now standing where Alicel had stood to close the window, having moved there despite complaining of the cold. Her expression could not match the concerned look on Aertan's face. Her expression could not match the pained look on Alicel's face. No, upon her visage was a plain look that gave no sympathy or pity. Her blank stare seemed not to register anything.

"Faewyn," Came the girl's somewhat higher pitched and inquiring voice that seemed freakishly calm, "Are you leaving?"

"I'm going out for a while, you guys should try to get some rest." It was very much like Reid to run away when a subject came up in which he couldn't deal with. Even in a case like this, where there was much to be discussed and a friend to comfort, he couldn't stand to stick around. He'd lost loved ones before, and at the same time he had his butterfly wings physically torn from his back. He knew all too well how Faewyn most likely felt, but because he knew all too well, it was more of a reason for him to want to avoid it. So, hands in his pockets to protect them from the bitter cold, Reid made a quiet exit out of the house.

The afternoon turned to evening, and that evening quickly turned to night, and Reid had yet to return. The reality of his absence was that he had decided to lounge around a local coffee shop. It was small, yet warm and cozy, the strong scent of coffee beans wafted throughout the entire building. While positioned at a window booth, he could do nothing but watch the streetlights catch the vision of gentle snowflakes falling. The waitress came by once and a while to check on him, and Reid was captivated by curiosity every time she came by. She was about his age, maybe a year or two younger, and her body was thin as if she rarely ate, frail, and just beginning to define itself. Her hair, a shimmering silver colour, was styled in ringlets that fell halfway down her back and were tied by royal blue lace. Her eyes were where her appearance became extra bizarre. While one was a dull orange colour, the other lacked any colour at all, with just a white eye with a white iris. Her outfit, while most of the other waitresses possessed spiffy new uniforms that looked as if they were out of a Victorian storybook, was nothing but a few brown rags and a name tag. Her name was Ellianne, or si the name tag read. The most intriguing thing about this girl was that she never spoke a word, but presented herself in such a manner that the customer knew what she was talking about.

"You noticed it too, huh?" Mistral asked Reid from within.

Reid replied quickly and to the point. "Yeah. She's probably terribly poor. On top of that, it seems she's probably mute and blind in one eye, not to mention terribly underfed." It only took a simply inquiry to the store manager to confirm his suspicion. "Ellianne DuCharme, age 14. She lost her voice a year ago as the result of entering a stage of shock, apparently after her parents were murdered. Her right eye went blind after having her head held up to an open flame for two hours by one of the town's hoodlums after he assumed she was choosing not to reply to his demands, while in reality she was mute. She also has to make a journey to Gregar, but she lacks an escort. Seriously, we get so caught up in our own ordeals that we tend to forget the people suffering right in front of our eyes..."

OOC: I'd write more, but I'm tired. I hope the timeskip didn't screw anyone up! Just, get on with business as usually, though I don't want anyone bothering Reid.

For a few more moments, Faewyn just kept crying. There was really nothing anyone could have said or done to change that. The moment she had seen those words, the one hope she had clung to for years had been snuffed, just like that. There was no way to describe the horrible emptiness it had left behind, of having wasted three years of one's life in a happy little lie, of having to face up to the fact that no matter how much she wished for things to be otherwise, she was now alone in the world.

All alone.

It was not until maintaining the constant tearflow became physical impossible to maintain that Faewyn began noticing the world around her once more. The first thing she noticed was that the shirt she had been crying against was now considerably wet. But beyond the dampness, she felt warmth...the warmth of a hug returned, and a quick glance upwards revealed a concerned expression on Aertan's face. It was obvious that he wasn't used to this kind of situation, but it was equally obvious that he was trying to comfort her all the same and the gesture alone was already touching. Alicel seemed worried too, as far as she could make out the expression on the figure lying on the couch, and it was then that a realization occurred to her.

She wasn't.

She wasn't alone at all.

Faewyn abruptly tightened her grip, bursting into tears again, but they were of a completely different kind this time. This wasn't her loss she was crying over. No, this was crying over what she had. That was right, even if her parents were gone, even if her quest had left a hole in its wake, there were others; she still had people to care about, people who cared about her, she still had a job to do.

She still had purpose.

Wiping aside the last of the tears, Faewyn finally -- if rather reluctantly -- relinquished the ex-priest from her grip, managing a small smile even as the occasional sob still fought its way through. Oh, she probably looked a mess after all that crying, but at least she was a stable mess now. Stable enough to respond to Adela's question anyway.

"No way." she replied, shaking her head firmly, "I-I know mama would be against this, but there's no way I'm backing out now. I'm already involved, and I want to see this through. No, I need to see this through. I've got people to find and a prophecy to fulfill and..." she couldn't help her smile widening a little, beaming at Aertan and Alicel from behind her tear-riddled face, "...well, I really can't picture any people I'd rather be with right now. I know we haven't known each other for that long, but you guys are really the best friends I have. Just...thank you. Thank you for everything."

Her little speech thus finished, the girl took a deep breath, feeling considerably more at ease than before. The sadness was still there at the back of her mind, and no doubt it would be back later, but right now...well, right now she was just happy that there was still light at the end of the tunnel.

With her immediate worries silenced, Faewyn finally became aware of something else. Namely, the fact that she was tired...this entire day had been stressing, both mentally and physically, but until this point she had been too wrapped up in things to notice. Now the fatigue was there with a vengeance, though, and the girl stifled a small yawn. It was then that a final revelation struck her, the girl tilting her head in curiosity as her glance traveled from the occupants of the room to the darkening scenery outside.

"Umm...where are Reid and Reece? Shouldn't they have been back by now?"


OOC: Subplot...go! For the purpose of not completely blowing a fuse with this post, just assume that Reece has mysteriously disappeared from the house. It will all be explained in my next IC, just as long as we don't get any more time jumps between now and then. :3

Aertan smiled when Faewyn stated that she would be continuing on with working on unravelling this project that her mother had spoken of. Of course, it wasn't all that great that she was denying her mother's final wish, but Aertan didn't really care at this point. It wasn't really his place to judge either way. But without Faewyn's arms around him and her tears staining his shirt, Aertan finally realized how awkward the whole scene was. Standing up, this gesture helped Aertan regain some feeling of normalcy, and the first thing he noticed when he stood up was the patch of soaked fabric on his shirt that seemed to triple the cold on that single area of skin. He stared down at the journals and took a step back as a precaution, looking around himself before stretching his shirt out and lighting a fire in his hand, holding the flames up to the fabric to help dry it out.

"Reid just l-left," Alicel said, sniffling and trying to compose herself, now even more teary eyed from Faewyn addressing her as a friend. It wasn't as if she hadn't before, but this time it just seemed so much more important to Alicel, "He said we should get some rest."

"And Reece, as far as I know," Aertan said, extinguishing the flames and holding out a hand to help Faewyn to her feet, "is still upstairs. I don't know what he's doing though."

Though the dark splotch on Aertan's white shirt was still visible, it was already dry enough that the warm Fionus clinging to his skin would suck all the moisture out of it in a flash. In the meantime, Aertan was thinking of the last time he got a good night's sleep. He could hardly believe that it had really only been a few hours before. It felt like it had been weeks since they'd departed on the airship, and the small headache that throbbed at the very back of his head wasn't helping his energy much. Though since he was long used to more splitting headaches from when Haeon't and Geote used to protest about being kept in their wings, his face was composed.

"Well, if we're leaving tomorrow morning," Adela stated straight-forwardly, "then we should take Reid's advice and get some sleep. And food. Since we don't know when the next apostle attack is going to be, it's best if we recollect ourselves during this time we've got." She said, turning around and looking at Faewyn, trying not to be too expectant as a guest.

"Hey kid, who the hell do you think you are, just walking into our turf like that?"

"Great job Reid, just wander into the one place in town with a high gang population density, and an alley no less. You are my hero. I guess I shouldn't have expected you to remember the way back to Faewyn's." Yeesh, what was Mistral's problem?

Reid sighed. Between Rod and the apostles, he had obtained enough combat experience in the past two months to dismiss this man as a minimal threat. Out of the darkness stepped more and more of these men, all apparently under the first man's control. He turned to leave, but the opposite end of the alley was blocked as well. They were all cloaked, so it was impossible to see what kind of weaponry they had, if any. In this situation, he had no other choice. He decided to take a leap of faith. He reached for the board on his back and through it down, channeling the Wionus into the board to keep it afloat. He leapt for the board, but it was no good. The leader was on top of him in a flash, which wasn't the biggest shock of them all. Before getting a fist to the face, Reid noticed the man's wings. They were long, with an overall width of ten feet, black, and scaley, with a thin, almost filmlike layer spanning the lower portion of the wings. Wyvern wings.

To clarify, there are many different types of wings in the world, but they are bunched together in classes. The ``highest`` level of wing class were white, feathered wings, only possessed by those with royal blood. Then below that was essentially everything else. In reality, there were two classes higher than the white winged. Tealia`s mythological symbol was the phoenix, while Carn possessed the Wyvern. As such, there exists a wyvern tribe, and a phoenix tribe, both with very few numbers. While these two tribes are supposed to be held in an even higher regard than the royalty, things had progressed so that members of these tribes were captured and kept as pets to show wealth. Their numbers slowly diminished until there were only a few left to freedom. Inhuman? Yes. But society didn't care. If you were lucky enough to catch one, you could fetch a small fortune in exchange.

Reid got to his feet, realizing that the entire group must have been refugees of these terms, and dropped his bow, which didn't get too impressed of a response from Mistral, who had just had an all around crappy evening. "I'll leave. I had no intention of harming you before, and that has not changed."

The response from the man was less than subtle. "DO YOU THINK WE CARE? Our brethren have been enslaved by your people over and over again for the past fifty years. If I want to kill you, I damn well will. Besides, we can't let our real identities get out. Many of us have begun to build lives here, after all." His breath was visible with every word, though Reid was more distracted with how the hell he was going to weasel out of this one. The man didn't allow Reid much time to think, however, as he leapt at the boy with a dagger in hand. DAMMIT. There wasn't enough time to even draw his bow. He closed his eyes, and waited for it to all be over.

"AGH!" Reid coughed as he jolted upright in the woolen cot he was placed in, although he shot himself back down to the cot after the sudden movement cause a searing pain in the right side of his chest? Where was he? Had he blackened out just before he got hit? No, wait, the dagger pierced his chest, and then he passed out. But why was he still alive? He turned his head to the right, to face a fire burning brightly, lighting up the entire tent. This was truly the home of one less fortunate. Food scraps were everywhere, the small tent was a mess, and rags were everywhere.

He turned his head to the door as the man from before stormed into the tent. "So you're still alive, huh? I guess that's lucky then. Speaking of luck, you're lucky Lady Arlene arrived when she did and notioned that you were with her." He walked over to the fire and tore a piece of meat off of the grill, throwing it on Reid's bed while gesturing for him to eat, which he did. The muscular man's face was covered by a hood, which troubled the boy. And who was this Lady Arlene? "I applied a special wyvern lotion to your wound. You won't be fully healed by the morning, but you'll be able to move." A girl walked in behind the man, and she looked at Reid with one lifeless eye, and one living eye. It was the girl from the coffee shop! He wasn't quite sure at first, since her silver hair from before was now completely down, as opposed to the ringlets, although it was still quite curled. Her outfit was quite different than all of the other residents in town, consisting of a deep blue, sleeveless traveling gown, and a pair of sandals in a matching colour. On her forehead she also wore a silver tiara with a deep blue gem embedded in the center, the design on the tiara made to look like vines wrapping around the gem. Above all differences, the main one was the pair of scaley, silver wyvern wings exiting her back. Reid had wondered why she had her wings covered in the shop, but now it was clear. Her pair was much smaller than the black winged man, perhaps spanning only six feet. The girl smiled at him, before skipping over and sitting on the cot with him.

"This is Ellianne Arlene DuCharm, though make sure to refer to her as "Lady Ellianne" or "Lady Arlene". She is our ray of light, that girl. She may not be able to talk or see out of one eye, but she's a skilled dancer, that's for sure, but she also has another unique ability. She can see the future." Reid held his laughter in, on fear of reopening his wound, and of being beaten by the man for his insolence. Fortune telling? What a joke. "And, you're taking her with you when you wake up in the morning as payment for letting you live."

"Wait, what?! Why?" Reid almost choked on his tongue. Great, now he had to babysit a wyvern girl.

"She was summoned to the main cathedral in Carn two weeks ago, but we cannot spare anymore men, nor can we afford to hire her an escort. That's why I let you live. You'll do it for us." Reid's eyes locked onto the girl, who gave him a weak smile. She was the epitome of frailty, that girl. She made Rosaline look like the healthiest girl in the world. In this case though, it looked like he had no choice.

"Fine."

"Good. Well then, good night, I'll have Lady Ellianne come in early in the morning to wake you up." The man said as both he and the girl left, the girl giving him one last glance before leaving. Yeesh, how was he going to explain THIS to them.

"Oh, alright." Faewyn replied, nodding to Aertan as she accepted his help to get on her feet, "I'm going to go check up on him. I think...I think I need to talk with him for a bit. Oh, and Aertan?" she added, lowering her voice out of consideration for the fact that there were two others in the room, "You didn't have time to change those bandages with all this commotion, did you?" she casually slipped the messenger bag off her shoulder, placing it on the table, "I've got plenty of spares here if you don't have any of your own. Just...don't push your luck with that arm, alright?"

With that and a last nod to those gathered, the girl strode up the staircase, soon disappearing from view. There weren't many places to go upstairs, just three rooms: hers, her parents', and the guest room. Well, there was a fourth if you counted the small balcony. A sudden, chilly breeze brushed against Faewyn's face as she passed the aforementioned entrance, and as she spun around in surprise at what should surely have been a firmly closed door, she thought she glimpsed a figure on the moonlit balcony. A blink later, it was gone, however, a single pair of bootprints within a puddle of half-melted snow the only evidence that anyone had ever been there.

Drawing the obvious conclusion, the girl rushed out to the balcony, peering around in confusion. It was then that she spotted the figure again. It was perched on the very top of the roof that faced the wilderness beyond town, overlooking the landscape from a hunched position, wings spread wide.

"Reece?" Faewyn ventured, flapping her dragonfly wings for a moment to get them up to speed before flying up to the rooftop. Precarious though the perch on the top of the panels was, she stood just as firmly as her friend, "I..." she paused for a moment, searching for the right words, before approaching the figure, "I just wanted to say...about what happened on the ship, I-"

"Reece?"

There was something wrong about Reece's voice. No, that wasn't Reece's voice at all. It was the voice of a woman, and as the figure turned around to face her, her gender was effectively confirmed, "So sorry, little girl." the woman drawled, the piercing eyes set into her tanned face -- reminiscent of burning coals -- sending a shiver up Faewyn's spine, even as the heat radiating around her caused the snow around her to evaporate, wrapping her visage in a thin mist, "You just missed him."

"Who..." Faewyn began, staring at the stranger in confusion "Who are you?". The body was the spitting image of Reece's, clothes included, save for the key fact that it was female, even the weapon held casually in her right hand was identical. Yet this was clearly not Sieglinde either; the eyes were a clear indication of this. The girl's eyes narrowed in suspicion, her hand darting for the staff the moment the obvious conclusions crossed her mind.

Noticing the gesture, the woman merely laughed. A cold, malicious little laugh, "Such hostility..." she purred, "...and here I thought we could be friends..."

"Shut-shut up, negafael!" Faewyn retorted, returning her gaze with a glare of her own, spear-tip pointed firmly at the stranger, "Get out of my friend's body right this instant! Give him back!"

"Give him back?" the negafael echoed mockingly, "And here I thought you didn't care where he was as long as he stayed away from you. You should be thanking me for making that wish come true."

"What are you talking about?!" the girl retorted, "I've never said anything like-"

Just then, the conversation back at the ship struck her. Specifically, the ending.

"Finally sinking in, is it?" the woman prompted, sauntering a few steps closer, "Reece isn't here because you don't want him to be, and right after he put his life on the line joining up a band of strangers just to protect you. Oh, Fay, Fay, Fay..." she tutted, shaking her head in mock-disapproval, "Behind that sugary-sweet little face of yours you really have a cold personality."

"Shut up!" Faewyn retorted, clenching the spear-mode weapon harder, "SHUT UP! You're lying! Reece knows I didn't mean what I said! He knows that I was upset, he-!" tears welled up from her eyes once more as she charged towards the negafael, "He would never do something stupid like that! I'll make you give him back!"

"Just as I thought..." the woman said, continuously calm even as the spear tip came ever closer to her, "You call him a friend yet you have no inhibitions about harming his body at all. What did I tell you, Reece?" she seemed to address the last remark to the air around her, "Not even a hint of remorse." the negafael shook her head, "Looks like you leave me no choice, Fay."

Before Faewyn could alter her course, the negafael had brought both wings around herself, following it up by flapping the violently to the side and sending forth a wave of heat that rippled and distorted the air it coursed through, melting the snow packed across the roof into water which immediately cascaded down the steeply angled roof, claiming the girl's footing and sweeping her with it.

Faewyn felt a dull ache course through her body as she slammed down on her left side, rolling helplessly down with the deluge as she attempted to grasp a hold of something. The next thing she knew, she was all out of roof, experiencing the force of gravity pulling her downward with all its might, the sky glinting with stars above her. She attempted to flap her wings, but numbed by the freezing water and bruised by the tumble, they could do little but flap feebly, barely breaking her fall.

Was this it, then? Was this how it was going to end? Would she end up in the same place as mama? Right after she had found a new reason to keep going? What about her friends? Had someone heard the noise? Would someone be there to break her fall? Would they-would they be able to get through to Reece and help him? Would they be able to tell that this was all...her fault?

A fresh batch of tears obscured the figure observing her fall from view, a single word crossing her lips, "Reece..."

The negafael didn't even raise an eyebrow as Faewyn's body suddenly halted in mid-fall, hanging in place like a bizarre marionette, what little chest she had disappearing from view along with her right arm, a thick covering of mist swirling around the spot where the insect wings had once been, soon molding itself into the shape of a pair of majestic angel wings.

"Rather slow reaction, I should think." the woman remarked casually, smirking at the figure who hovered up to roof level again, glaring at her with deep, blue eyes, "For a moment, I almost thought you wouldn't show."

"So sorry to keep you waiting." the fael replied dryly, Wionus gathering around his one remaining arm, "Who are you and what have you done with Sieglinde?!"

"Still those same old questions?" the negafael asked in a bored voice, "The name is Ifalna, if you must know, and I haven't laid a finger on your little girlfriend. Happy?"

"The moment I see you banished to the recess you belong in, negafael."

"Real charmer, aren't you?" Ifalna teased, effortlessly raising the glaive in one hand, Fionus coiling around her body, a decidedly hungry grin on her face as she made a challenging hand gesture towards her opponent, "Well then, do your worst."

In response to the statement, the phantom wings on Isaire's back gave a flap of their own, a roaring whirlwind forming around the negafael, collecting the recently released water within it, the half-formed ice crystals glistening in the starlight as the fael flew straight up, floating just above the reach of the gale before lunging vertically downwards into the eye of the vortex, Wionus-tipped spear first.

A blast whose sheer luminosity would have put an emergency flare to shame erupted on the roof, the sheer noise of the impact rattling the windows of the house and effectively alerting everyone who had somehow managed to miss the struggle thus far.

When the light and smoke cleared, the damage to the roof turned out to be surprisingly small. The tiles had been scorched around the spot where plufael and negafael had clashed, but surprisingly the tiles still clung together, even as the snow had long since evaporated. Standing on the right-hand edge of the roof, Isaire panted, grasping the stump that was his right hand as what little remained of it began dissolving into particles of green mahstion. He was losing power, and quick...but why? Certainly, he hadn't been at full power, but the power should have been returning to him in queue with Sieglinde's wounds healing, not leaving. It made no sense! Unless...a terrible suspicion crept on Isaire, but just then the taunting voice of the negafael interrupted him.

"Is that it?"

Ifalna looked decidedly bored as she stepped out from the veil of smoke and steam that had surrounded her. The arms of the overcoat had burned off and she bore a number of minor abrasions on her skin, but given the force of the attack the wounds should have been far worse, "How boring..." the negafael complained, pretending to pout, "I was almost enjoying myself for a moment there. Don't tell me it's over already..."

Isaire merely glared in response, panting as he coaxed more mahstion out of his reserves and straightened his pose.

Ifalna cocked her head to the side, "Not coming? Oh well..." she gave an indifferent shrug, igniting a flame at the tip of each finger on her right hand, the left still holding the glaive steady, "Looks like I'll have to come for you then." the negafael swung her hand towards her opponent, releasing the flames into the air where they scattered into a formation reminiscent of the tips of a five-point star, each flame blossoming into a tiny fireball as they surrounded Isaire, who immediately countered with another powerful gale which snuffed the flames from existence, only to find the negafael's glaive mere inches from his head as he had finished.

"Pretty good." the negafael conceded as her slash rammed into the tiles of the roof while Isaire took distance from her again, a set of Wionus-induced cuts appearing on her cheek, "Too bad you forgot about the sixth."

It was then that the wave of heat caught Isaire's attention, a last-minute air barrier being the only thing that kept the roaring fireball Ifalna had sent to circle him from inflicting critical damage. The blast was still considerable, however, and knocked the fael onto his back.

Groaning, Isaire struggled to his feet, even as his left index finger took its leave. It was then that the direction of the green mahstion caught his attention, the plufael's eyes widening in realization, "You...you're using-"

"Looks like you finally figured it out." Ifalana said, striding over to her fallen adversary and casually raising the shirt to reveal the lower half of her abdomen, several tendrils of green clearly visible in-between the skin while the mahstion circled around the cuts on her cheek, soon filling them, "Fael healing techinque. Your healing technique, to be specific. Lovely thing, but you've got to be careful where to aim it...doesn't end until it's done you know. Oh well..." she snapped her fingers, a new fireball assembling in her palm, "I suppose you won't be around to benefit from that knowledge. It's been fun, but I do so hate to leave loose ends." a wicked little grin appeared on her face as she released the projectile, "Ta-ta."


OOC: Okay...I think it's random intervention time. Though if you don't feel like it I can always improvise a way to get Faewyn out of this situation. But really, I think it was about time to finish this post. Resolution to come in my next. :3

"Thanks." Aertan stated blandly, glancing at the messenger bag. He was hardly looking forward to re-bandaging his arm. Regardless, he sifted through it's contents and pulled out a fresh roll of bandages and let Haeon't pull out a tube of ointment. Placing the bandages on the shelf of the bookcase, he gingerly peeled off the bandaging that he'd applied just that morning and let the rolls fall to the ground slowly as he finally revealed the gauze pad that was covering the severed end of his arm. Geote gathered up the used bandages on the floor and swallowed them up, just like he did with anything else that was grotesque, while Haeon't and Aertan worked together to unravel the bandages. Aertan jumped when a tendril of (freezing cold) water engulfed the scarring tissue on his arm and the skin that was stretching to cover the open wound. His eyes were annoyed as they stared coldly at Alicel, who was massaging her temple with two fingers.

"I'm going to sleep." Adela declared, scaling the stairs to find Faewyn and ask if there was a bed she could use. When Aertan decided the little girl was out of earshot, he turned his glare back to Alicel.

"Mind your own business."

"It's going to get infected." Alicel replied.

"Like I said, mind your own business." He turned to face the bookshelf, his back to Alicel as he let Haeon't squeeze the yellow ointment onto his wrist. Silence fell over them while Aertan rebandaged his arm, and through this silence, the two could hear a definite scuffle on the second floor. Or was it the second floor? It should've been closer, louder if it was the second floor. It was a bit muffled...

"Aren't you going to go see what's going on?" Alicel asked, breaking the silence and sitting back in surprise when Aertan whirled around and sent a fireball in her direction that extinguished itself before impact.

"How many times do I have to say it?!" Aertan barked, his voice gaining in volume, "I hate people like you!"

With that, he swept out of the living room and entered the kitchen, dragging out one of the chairs and sitting down in it, re-doing the bandages that had loosened upon his leave. As long as he wasn't in the same room as that accursed girl who was every reminder of his blood, it was okay with him. That stupid girl who was always trying to impose her ways on him. Why should he have to go see what was going on? What Faewyn said to that soldier had nothing to do with him, and he wasn't curious.

Standing silently in the room, Adela watched the battle before her unfold, providing no assistance. She certainly could've, and she certainly knew who she'd be siding with, but a heavy weight seemed to be pulling at her eyelids. And so she stood, half-asleep while Isaire and Ifalna duked it out, Xaviae pacing back and forth in her mind with a desire to help, to fight. She was vaguely aware that she was watching Xaviae from a place no other than the base of the mother tree, where Jeckt was undoubtedly chained. She felt his amusement at Xaviae's internal conflict more clearly than Xaviae's anxiety. But she was too tired to care, really.

When the flickering flames caught her teal eyes though, the weights were lifted and the projectile swallowed up by a pool of Dation, similar to the style in which Cress had stopped Adela's mahstion bullet. The youngest soldier in the group held her arm aloft, her hand hanging limply from it's wrist and her eyes half-closed. Reminiscent of a puppet, she mumbled quietly, "Let's not tie them up... don't even need to... say we did...."

Ifalna blinked as her projectile disappeared, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features as she turned her glare to the source of the Dation. Seizing on the opportunity granted by his opponent's distraction, Isaire unleashed another burst of Wionus, the gale-force wind smashing into the negafael's stomach like a hammer and sending her backwards, though she soon regained her composure, taking up a new stance on the other side of the roof as another burst of mahstion escaped from Isaire's body and dutifully began healing the bruise.

"Well, well." Ifalna remarked, returning to her usual insufferably cocky attitude as she sized up the girl, clearly not impressed by what she saw, "Looks like we have a party crasher. But...no matter..." she smirked at Isaire's rapidly failing posture as the fael's second arm began fading, "It looks like I've already accomplished what I wanted. How long would you give the lifetime of your avatar, plufael? Ten minutes? And with your host in such a condition too..." she tutted, "How very tragic."

Isaire's usually serene expression was distorted by anger as the reality of the situation began to sink in,"You...you're not going to get away with this."

"Oh, please." Ifalna snorted, "Try to have an original thought at least once during your pathetic existence. Not much left of it, you know. In fact..." she twirled the glaive around wither her fingers, bright flames lighting at both ends before she hurled it straight towards Adela at full force. Not waiting to let anyone give a reaction, the negafael unleashed a new wave of heat towards Isaire, knocking the exhausted plufael off his feet, a vague illusion a figure among the haze appearing in front of his eyes, only to be behind him a moment later, fionus heading for his throat, "I think it's just about over."

The fingers swept, the heat warping and distorting the air around it, and then, just as the arc was about to draw to a close, a sudden mixture of confusion and pain appeared on the negafael's face.

"But..." she grit out, staring nonplussed at the the gaping hole that had appeared at her abdomen, waiting in vain for the thin Wionus-laced hand responsible for it to disappear, "...that's not-no!" the negafael staggered backwards under the assault, the green mahstion that had been trapped within seeping out into the air and vanishing, "You stupid negafael! What have you done?! Don't you realize that the girl's body would have been yours to control without him?!"

The figure gave no response, merely standing in a slightly hunched manner as it allowed the Wionus to fade, the locks of teal obscuring its face from view, "Negafael?" it echoed at last, a mirthless little grin spreading across its face as the head tilted upwards, revealing two tired eyes.

Beetle black eyes.

"So sorry, little girl, you just missed him."

"You?" Ifalna's obnoxiously confident manner was rapidly crumbling, "But-there's no way you'd have the skill to-!"

"I didn't." Faewyn interrupted, "Typhoeus did. I figured he would jump in if I tried to take the hit and I was right." her grimace of a grin widened slightly, "Looks like whatever he used was strong enough to shatter the healing technique too." grasping her right hand with her left, Faewyn began charging the one technique she knew would be strong enough for the job, "Game over, Ifalna."

"You vicious little brats!" Ifalna spat out, her glare traveling from the almost psychotic-looking Faewyn to the still fully capable Adela with newfound fear as she grasped the now non-healing wound with one hand, "Don't think that you've won this! This body is still mine!" as Faewyn unleashed her technique, sending what few particles she had managed to gather towards the negafael, Ifalna lunged back, sending out one last blast towards her adversaries and forcing Faewyn to switch to a defensive mahstion. As the heat subsidied, the woman was long gone, a lone, winged figure heading for the distance.

By all counts, Faewyn should have been upset at this development, but she felt strangely calm at the sight, a heavy-headed, drowsy feeling creating a comforting veil between herself and reality. She was vaguely aware of disappointment, just like she was vaguely aware of tottering at the edge of a precariously steep rooftop and being very, very cold, but right now, none of that seemed that important.

"Come on..." she murmured in Adela's direction, ignoring the many complaints of the bruises on her body as she began descending towards the balcony again, "Reid-" a huge yawn escaped the girl, "Reid said we should get some sleep. You can use the guest room...opposite to the bal-balcony." sleepily grasping the younger girl's arm, she half-shepherded her inside the house, depositing her by the door she had mentioned. There were so many things to do and say and think about, but right now only one of them stood out from the din: sleep.

An absent grin appeared on the girl's face as her feet guided her in the direction she had come to instinctively associate with rest. A hand reached out, weighing down the door handle as her pushed the door to her own room open and took a few tottering steps towards the bed before collapsing onto it.

Sleep had claimed her long before the thought of changing clothes or getting beneath the covers even occurred to her.

"So you're the new one who's escorting Ellianne, huh?" Reid brushed the voice away. He was too exhausted from the night prior, and his wound still ached slightly. The voice was female, that much was certain, and it sounded deep as if it belonged to a girl who was just beginning to lose her high, childish pitch. "Oi! Lazy! Wake the hell up!" Reid felt a sharp kick to the ribs and his eyes shot open instantly. Whoever this girl was, she was certainly pushy. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, and found himself over at the face of a girl, who was resting her head on the bed on her arms, staring at him curiosly. Like Ellianne, this girl couldn't have been much older than himself. Her hair, which was pulled up into a ponytail which reached the middle of her back, and eyes were both a rich red that reminded Reid of the richest and reddest of flames. Her face was cute, too.

"Who're-"

"I'm Flaire, Flaire Teluia. I'm going with you as an escort as well 'cause boss doesn't trust you~" She put on a big grin and got to her feet. This girl was certainly... forceful. Much different than the girls he'd been traveling with thus far. When the girl got up, he got a better look at her. In comparison to Ellianne, who was a few inches shorter than him, Flaire was about his height. For the weather of the town, it was peculiar that she was wearing nothing but a pair of baggy jeans and a white, short sleeved blouse. This mystery became clear when she spun around, showing off her feathered wings consisting of red, orange, and yellow feathers. So she was a phoenix, which made sense, since the body heat they created was far warmer than that of a normal person. This also makes for a deadly fionus user, which most phoenix were. Reid was about to speak, but she chose to speak before him once again. "We're leaving in two hours. Get ready and meet us back her then. And the boss says not to think about running away or else~" With that said, she ran out of the tent.

Reid groaned. He was adding a mute, half blind wyvern girl, and a loud, forceful phoenix girl to the group. The rest of them wouldn't like that one bit. He got dressed, this time putting on his black snowpants and a black coat over his normal attire. If he had to fight in the cold, at least this time he'd be prepared. Hopefully he could avoid conflict today though, especially since his wound still hurt when he moved too much.

BOOM.

Dammit. Reid ran out of the tent, and looked to the direction of the explosion. It was definately in the direction of Faewyn's place. He threw his board down, before jumping on and lifting up, leaving the short trail of wionus shooting behind him. "Mistral."

"Right." The two switched out so that Reid was in her form. He had realized after all of their experiences that both forms had an advantage and a disadvantage. While he retained his true form, he hit a lot harder, but when he was in Mistral's form he could move a lot faster, although he was physically weaker.

It didn't take long to reach Faewyn's and identify the problem. Someone had lit a fire near the books, lighting them on fire instantly. The smell of burning gasoline was also present, probably what caused the explosion. He was about to go check on everyone else, when a ball of dation whizzed by his head, harmlessly hitting a nearby tree. "Long time no see, kid." That voice, it was clearly Cress. "I didn't even recognize you in that form, but I could tell by your mahstion."

From nearby, the padre watched his plan play into action, Cressida at his side. As long as he had that girl, nobody would dare harm him. In the meantime, Kyra and Arturo had found Adela and Aertan respectively, while Villa had been assigned to Faewyn. It would all be over soon...