Y.Z. Act IV [PG-16]

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"Well, so sorry that I'm not doing anything more productive than trying to ensure that none of us gets their head lobbed off here." Pethalamine retorted, responding to Natalija's uppity attitude with her own favored argumentational body language, eyes set to look just a little bit beyond the addressed, as if she was really conversing with something a few inches beyond their skull, expression suggesting that the rest of said person was interrupting this discourse, rest of body still half-mindedly doing something else, in this case firing wild shots of dation through the floor and back up, allowing them to strike the frustrated pirates at random from the most bizarre angles. The whole pose would have worked better had she been curled up with a book in her hands, but this would have to do. Dimitri's suggestion was not even heeded; no, this was a battle now. "Maybe if you would stop acting like a petulant child for once, you wouldn't always need a 'hand maiden' like myself to clean up your-"

It was then that the captain made his entrance, the magnitude of his mahstion presence large enough to drag Pethalamine away from the blossoming cat fight and over to examining their new opponent instead. Strong, really strong. A lot moreso than even her or Natalija. This...could be bad. What's more, the repulsive man's attitude was almost as insufferable as Natalija's. Sell her off, huh? The scholar's grip of her gun tightened, a low growl at the back of her mind announcing its support of the decision, strong or no, that wandering tub of lard had another thing coming if he seriously thought she would let herself be treated like that again. By anyone.

The woman barely had the time to sever Soren's link - and keep the rest of them from being dragged out into the open - as he was dragged down through the floor and duly choked. This captain wasn't just obnoxious, then, he was also arrogant, pulling a foe so close to himself when he could easily have choked him from safety behind the barrier. The scholar gave a sympathetic vince as Soren struck the barrier, desperately going through all of the mahstion techniques she had learned in the hopes of finding something, anything, that could give her the edge in a situation like this. Then, without warning, the ship lurched violently as something black shot straight through its hull, knocking Pethalamine off balance, a sharp pain at the back of her skull becoming the last thing she experienced before the world went dark again.

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Once again, Pethalamine saw nothing but darkness in front of her, and once again, her body felt heavier than it should have been. This sensation...what was this sensation?

"Open your eyes."

Pethalamine flinched at the low, husky voice. She was sure that no-one she knew spoke like that, yet it sounded...familiar somehow. "...I can't..." she replied feebly, attempting to coax movement out of her continuously uncooperative muscles, "...they won't..."

"Not those eyes." the voice snapped irritably, "You had best forget about that body for the time being. Use your other eyes."

"...my...other eyes?"

"Yes."

The other party seemed to consider this sufficient explanation, its expectation practically tangible as it waited in silence on the still-baffled Pethalamine.

"...I...I don't-" the young woman insisted.

"That's right, you don't." the voice concurred with obvious distaste, "Don't want to, that is. As usual." he gave an irritated sigh, "I can't believe I'm even bothering with this."

"Don't...want?" Pethalamine echoed.

"Precisely." the voice concurred, growing more distant but ever more irritable, soft footsteps confirming that its source was leaving, "I will just leave you to it then, shall I?"

"No!" she cried out, a sudden feeling of panic striking her, "Wait! I want to see! I want to move! I don't want you to-I don't want you to go!"

The footsteps came to a halt, only to be replaced by awkward silence once more.

"I...I don't want...to be alone here." Pethalamine finished, feeling truly pathetic. She still couldn't see, but somehow she felt like this other...person was giving her a piteous look.

"You do." he replied evenly, "You say that you don't, you may even think that you don't, but you do. It is not in my power to change that."

"I don't understand." the young woman insisted.

"So find out." the voice replied, "Isn't history your area of expertise?"

"...history?"

"That is all I will say." the voice concluded, "The rest is for you to figure out."

And all was quiet again.

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"...history?"

The sunlight felt incredibly harsh to Pethalamine, the scholar slowly raising an arm to cover her watering eyes from it as she finally came to. To say that she felt a bit sore was an understatement. Her whole body felt like one, huge aching bruise. Her head felt the worst, though, throbbing furiously around the area that she had bumped before the fall. It was a miracle that nothing seemed broken. Groaning quietly as she attempted to fit the three overlaping views of the world in front of her into one, Pethalamine slowly rose up into a sitting position, and - when this did not seem to break anything - onto one knee, bracing herself against a piece of debris jutting out of the ground nearby as she finally got up on her feet. She still felt dizzy, disbalanced, and more than a little sore, but at least she was alive...sort of. The young woman squinted at the only other upright human figure she could spot, eventually managing to identify him.

"Yuki?" she ventured, staggering slightly as she moved a bit closer to the boy, "You're...alright. Have you seen Dimitri, or...any of the-" she flinched, raising a hand to grab the back of her head as it gave a particularly sharp complaint, "...any of the others?" she finished, grimacing at the pain and subconsciously using her free hand to pull the locks at the front a bit further over her right eye.

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Aertan's might not have been the warmest of embraces, but just like so many years ago, it was the greatest comfort Faewyn could have asked for, the woman's sobs slowly ebbing away. He was still there, no matter what she could always count on him being there in the end, and it was precisely this feeling that made her feel so inclined to believe him when he said that everything would be alright. She didn't respond at first, not verbally at least, simply tightening her own hold and keeping her face buried in the ex-priest's shoulder.

"It's...just like way back then, isn't it?" Faewyn ventured at last, managing a hint of a smile, "Our first hug." she chuckled, despite herself, "I guess everything really is going to be alright then. Thank you, I really needed to hear you say that. And...I'm sorry I worried you."

Faewyn sighed, leaning against the volunteered shoulder once more, she would really have wanted to just end the talking here, but she knew she couldn't. Now came the hard part, and her carefully planned speech for it was long gone.

"You realize I'll still want to go and look for her, right?" she murmured at last, "Pethalamine has no wings, and it's an awfully long distance between Alta and the next continent. The only way she could have gone is down." Faewyn took a brief pause, knowing that what came next would probably be the most heavily objected part, "I'm going to call Reid." she said at last, "He's the only underneather I know, and he could still have contacts. Someone he knows might have heard something. Besides, I'm sure Adela can relate; she can convince him even if I can't."
 
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"I'm waking up in all the strangest places." Dimitri mumbled to himself, shaking some dirt out of the insides of his iron pipe before reattaching it to his skyboard- which had thankfully not gotten too beaten up in the tumble. Brushing off his clothes, Dimitri pulled a slender box out of his pocket, flipping it open and balancing it on his leg. Lip rings, earrings, studs, more rings for his eyebrows, more studs, and by the time he was finished administering all his accessories, save for leaving the torn lobe more time for scarring, Dimitri was starting to wonder why Soren was still sprawled across the ground. "Hey, wake up Soren."

"Hmmmm." He turned over.

Wait a second. Natalija's eyes jolted open, as she glanced over at Dimitri.

"Where we at...?" He mused, to himself, looking around hopelessly. "Pretty fancy tower we got behind us. Fancy city in front of us...."

Soren? Natalija's ponytail was in the wrong place on her head. She reached up to adjust it. Wrong clothes on her skin. Wrong arms. Wrong hands. No gloves. Natalija looked down. Wrong outfit. Ugly. Outfit. Natalija took a deep breath, and Dimitri turned around. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Wrong voice.

Dimitri sweatdropped, "Chill out..."

"Don't tell me to chill out," Natalija replied in Soren's voice, probably butchering any image he'd been trying to pass off, "I have like, every right to be freaking out right now. The brightest lightbulb in the fixture has just gone and landed me in one of the most boring outfits- ever. I mean, this T-shirt, is disgusting. At least spread out your grunge if you're gonna do a print tee. And these jeans- if I wanted to air out my legs, I would do it by wearing shorts. And what the heck is dragging me down-" Natalija looked down at the hoop in her hand. Just more confirmation that Stahn's punishment had been a body swap. "Ugh!" Natalija, in Soren's less-than-adequate body, got to her feet, brushed herself off without much shame to the fact that she was in someone elses body and stumbled a little. "He's too tall." She muttered in explanation as Dimitri stared at whom he'd once thought was Soren with an utterly stupid, dumbstruck look on his face. His mouth was wide open in confusion, and Natalija glared at him. "What, do I make him look good or something?"

"…" If anyone had been hard to understand, it was this girl, "Right… the whole three meters business… You know," Dimitri said shaking away the cloud of confusion that was growing by the second, "I'm not even going to ask."

"Good." Natalija stuck her nose in the air.

Dimitri slapped a hand to his mouth, trying not to burst out in laughter, but only succeeding halfway. He'd never expected to hear Soren's voice in that terribly stuck-up, almost valley-girl accent.

"Come on. We're finding Orangutan, because I know he's just going to be a klutz and ruin everything. He should be grateful I wasn't wearing heels." Natalija stormed past Dimitri, who followed, laughing wildly as he couldn't hold it in anymore. His back now throbbed dully, not enough to keep him from enjoying himself freely. Being knocked out all the time was probably pretty helpful, in terms of resting, as ironic as it was.


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Aertan felt a very slight smile when Faewyn referenced the same thing he was thinking about. Yeah. Definitely like the first time. He wanted to tell her that it was okay that she worried him, but if he said it, he wasn't sure if he could keep himself from tagging on a: "You worry me every hour of the day". And that certainly wouldn't help; nor did he want her to know that he was constantly fretting over every little thing. But while he was still contemplating a response, Faewyn dropped the bomb he'd so wanted to never bring up. He said nothing and didn't move for a few seconds before unraveling his arms from around Faewyn, dropping his hands to lightly grasp hers as he looked down at her with a slightly uncomfortable gaze. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind, closing it again before finally giving a reluctant nod. He took a deep breath, tightening his hands around hers for a second.

"If that's what you want to do." Aertan said evenly, looking away to the fire, "But this time, I'm going with you. Especially if you're going to visit that troublemaker." Sighing, he was now at a loss of what to say. He didn't approve of any of it. But he definitely understood why Faewyn wanted to go; which was why he wasn't stopping her, unlike before, when she'd insisted on going to Alta for the most pointless reasons. "We're too old for big adventures Faewyn. If we do find Pethalamine, we have to let the brat handle it. I'm definitely not going to let you go down to the Underneath." He hated being bossy like this, but compared to Alta, the Underneath was in a whole different picture. Aertan was more than just against her going down if Pethalamine did show up there. Aertan leaned his head back, heaving a long, heavy sigh.

"I really don't like that guy." Aertan groaned.

Reid was just the kind of person you'd want to...

Sock in the face for not giving a proper goodbye like a normal person, damn it.
 
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"I think the Princess is just a bit away..." Yuki made reference to Natalija's presence in response to Pethalamine's inquiry. He sounded tired, and he wasn't particularly in the mood to keep up a 'rawr' facade for the moment. It certainly wasn't the time or place. "She seems to be pretty beaten up though - will probably hurt a little more than a bit. There's a large piece of glass in her stomach we should probably remove as well. Her hairs a mess, so I bet she won't be too cheery even if we do that much for her before she wakes." Though really, they were all in the same boat at that point. Even Yuki had sustained a multitude of bruises and cuts, not to mention that his chest wound had opened up once again. Great, just great. "I'm pretty sure I heard Dimitri and Soren a little while ago, so they can't be too far away. You shouldn't move for a little bit, though. I'll tend to Natalija." Not that he was in any state to be actively doing things himself, but his sense of pride told him that he owed her a favor for bandaging him up earlier.

Yuki waded through the sea of debris, every so often taking the time to catch his breath or cover a bleeding wound, and while doing so he's glance up at the tower, which was at that point eclipsing the sun. Just what the hell was going on? The people were going to get more and more panicked if things proceeded like this. Not being an avid scholar himself, he had no clue what this could possibly mean. Chances were Soren or Pethalamine would have some ideas, however. He finally reached his goal, and struggled to kneel down beside her. Like this... Natalija didn't look like the little monster she actually was. She was actually kind of peaceful. That's when it dawned on him. The fact that Soren and Natalija had exceeded their limit. He had to proceed with caution. With Stahn, there was no telling what he could have done to them as punishment. He was quick to shake cautiousness when it looked as if the girl wasn't breathing, and put his hand up to her chest to feel for a pulse from her heart. Sure enough, there was one, thankfully.

He almost had a panic attack when the girl opened her eyes - well, it was more like she was squinting, trying to make out what it was she was looking at. Natalija's eyes were watery, as well, which came as no surprise considering that glass fragment in her stomach was probably causing some kind of pain. Interestingly enough, even with the fall her clothing was still in a relatively good condition. Even the glass had lodged itself in her stomach after her shirt had become loose and fallen up a bit. He was quick to remove his hand from where it was before, but the girl just kept watching. "Yuki? Is everyone okay? I felt like I was just hit by a bus..." Yuki, at this point, was a little flabbergasted. He was even more surprised when she ran a hand through her now extremely messy hair and didn't immediately fix it. Not to mention she wasn't running her mouth like she had an extremely bad case of verbal diarrhea.

Soren didn't know what to think when he woke up. There was Yuki, his hand on his chest. Was he checking for his heartbeat? He certainly felt half dead, that much was for sure. If circumstances were normal, he would, at the very least, be able to move properly, and have quite a bit of energy remaining. But, his muscles ached, and he felt extremely drained. Not to mention the great abnormality in his voice when he addressed Yuki. His voice was a lot higher, a lot melodic. Yet, it was irritatingly familiar. Puzzled, he ran his right hand through his hair and found that it was a little thicker and longer than usual, not to mention that black strands were hanging down over his eyes. "Yuki..." Ugh, so that's what happened. He knew who's voice it was now. "I'm... Natalija... aren't I?" Yuki nodded in reply, looking even more confused than he did before. That was Soren's queue to sit up quickly, only to find himself back on the ground and the glass shot into his body further.

"You... shouldn't make any sudden movements. Not with that embedded in your flesh. So I guess this is what that bastard did to you and her, eh, Soren?" Yuki replied, offering the girl a hand with no particular sign of emotion on his face. "Oi, Pethalamine! Natalija and Soren swapped bodies!"

Soren turned crimson, the fact sounding extremely surreal to even himself. Eventually, he got to his... well, her feet, and struggled with keep such a position. His whole body ached, and Natalija was not a girl who exercised often, if at all. That much was obvious. But, he could tell she was a practiced dation user. There was way more present in his system than he was used to. "As much as I'd love to take the time to get used to this, we should probably get help first. This form has a lot of power, so I should be able to warp us to my uncle's from here..." It was still difficult listening to himself talk, but he had to admit he sounded sweeter than the ever witchy Natalija. Though he was not looking forward to meeting with her again.

"GUYS! WE HAVE A WAY OUT! YOU SHOULD TRY AND GET OVER HERE!" Yuki shouted, hoping the others would hear. It would not be easy moving Natalija's body elsewhere in the condition it was in, and she didn't look like she was in any mood to be carried.
 
Pethalamine nodded slowly, seating herself on a nearby rock. Yuki sure didn't look any better suited for walking about, but the scholar's stomach still felt like it had been punched into her spine and her headache was as persistent as ever, so she really wasn't in the mood to argue about anything that meant less exertion and less looking at messy wounds for her. She was lucky, she supposed, to just have gotten off with being battered and bruised, but hunched over in a vain attempt to make her body ache a bit less as she was, she really couldn't think of herself as particularly fortunate.

As she sat there by herself, Pethalamine couldn't help her gaze drifting over to the imposing shape of the black tower reaching up towards the sky above, far further than her gaze would carry. 'Tower of Babel', she couldn't help thinking, chuckling quietly at her own historian tendencies. What a nonsensical connection to make; it was hardly like Ophelia was going to smite the structure down and break up the languages or anything...right? With all the strange goings on lately, the scholar couldn't help feeling just a bit less secure about that reasoning than usual, turning her gaze away from the imposing structure. 'Nonsense.' she told herself, 'This is no time to take on ancient superstitions.'

"Oi, Pethalamine! Natalija and Soren swapped bodies!"

The scholar blinked, half-surprised by how readily her mind accepted this absurd statement. But then, with everything else she had experienced these past two days, a simple body swap seemed almost comfortingly normal.

"Okay!" she called back, slowly rising to her feet as she added to herself, "Right. I've really been around these people too long."

Giving a tired martyr sigh, Pethalamine half-limped her way over to Yuki and what she supposed she should be thinking of as Soren now, slumping down next to the latter and giving a nod of acknowledgement to confirm that she was ready whenever they were.

'Wow...' she thought for herself as caught a glimpse of Soren's wounds, 'That little witch is going to blow her top when she sees this.'

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At first, Faewyn seemed on the verge of protesting, but then thought the better of it. Honest concern was something she had never been good in arguing against, and right now, Aertan's manner exhuded it.

"Alright." she said softly, "No underneath, promise. But if there is any way I can help that doesn't put me in direct danger, don't expect me not to take it."

Finally breaking contact with the ex-priest, the aging scholar raised her index fingers to her temples, a habit she had taken to whenever communicating with her faels.

'Isaire, you were listening, correct?'

'Yes, m'am.' the plufael responded wearily, 'I assume you want me to contact Mistral? I should warn you, something about her reila's signature is not quite normal, I'm not sure if-'

'Actually, I was hoping that you could get in touch with Xaviae.' Faewyn interrupted, 'I think I'd rather confide in Adela first; Reid might just end up deciding on something rash without telling anyone about it. You can manage Xaviae, right? Even at this distance?'

'No problem.' Isaire replied, 'It may take a while, but distances between souls are relative at best. There are loopholes.'

Faewyn couldn't help smiling just a little. Even after all these years, the plufael still wanted to assure her that even the most exerting requests were no problem at all, 'Then please use them.' she shot back, 'Tell him to tell Adela that...' she paused for a moment, '...that we really need to talk to her and Reid face-to-face. And that it's really urgent, alright? Ask if it's okay for us to come over straight away.'

'As you wish. And Faewyn?'

'Hmm?'

'Please don't do anything reckless while I'm gone.'

The professor couldn't help shaking her head as she felt her plufael's presence grow a bit more distant than usual. Whether he knew it or not, Aertan was certainly not the only one who fussed over her safety every waking our of the day.

"Isaire's taking the message." she told him, though this was probably redundant, leaning down to scoop up the various discarded newspapers and magazines and placing them in a haphazard stack on the nearest table, "Regardless of the answer, we should probably pack." there was a rather apologetic edge to her smile as she faced Aertan again, "We might not come back for a while."
 
ooc: Wow I fricked up this post. Let's celebrate. <_< Are you going to have Isaire say something in your next post, or was I supposed to figure that Isaire showed up? Because I'm still waiting on a Reid part from David, and moving Adela right now would be kind of too much self-interaction. D:


Natalija had hated being in Soren's body since the very start, but there was one thing that she hated the most. It wasn't the fact that he wasn't nearly as fashionable as she'd have liked, and it wasn't that his mahstion prowress was considerably lower than hers; It was the fact that Soren didn't seem to be hungry at the moment. Natalija swallowed a lump in her throat. She felt utterly sick. It had been a long time since she'd been as full as Soren was now, having grown incredibly used to having a stomach that was bordering on half-full. She felt disgustingly fat and was glad for the fact that there was no mirror around. She didn't think she'd be able to handle seeing it; his orange hair, tacky jeans, and even tackier shirt. But even worse than that, she wouldn't be able to handle seeing the muscle. It was okay on other people, but now that she was in this body, the extra bulk that Soren carried, though it wasn't exactly as much as she'd been expecting, Natalija was ready to burst out in tears. It wasn't easy to get as skinny as she was. But regardless, the young fashion star was holding up rather well on the outside, considering her utter despair on the inside. But that was her specialty, so even though she was just about ready to gag, her irritated expression stayed put.

Dimitri stopped following Natalija obediently, wrenching his hand out of the vice-grip she had on his wrist. Natalija spun around, crabbed at the fact that Dimitri had the nerve to- "… Yuki says they found a way out."

"So you're psychic now?" Natalija jabbed sarcastically.

"No, I just have better hearing than you." Dimitri put his hands behind his ears.

"Right, because you have huge ears and amplifiers attached to them." Natalija shot back just as quickly.

Dimitri was silent for a moment. The comeback he'd thought up sounded terribly ridiculous compared to the jab at his earrings. "His voice came from over here." Dimitri finally sighed in defeat, as Natalija stuck her nose in the air, following Dimitri and looking more acrimonious than she'd ever been.

"Yuki?" Dimitri peered around the corner of the tower, spotting the other three and waving cheerfully, "Hey! We're over here!" He paused when he started getting nearer. "Woah, you guys are really beat up."

Natalija scoffed, "That's because I had the sense to make a barrier-" She caught sight of her body and took a sharp breath. Catching her hand over her mouth and forcing herself not to throw up from the mixed sight of her own precious body mangled as it was, and the unnatural amount of food in Soren's stomach. After she was in the safe zone, she clenched her fists, tightening her arms against her body in a pose that probably would've only conveyed the purpose if she'd been in her body, instead of Soren's. "What did you do to my body?! And- You destroyed my favorite shirt!! I can't believe you!!!" She slapped her hands to her head in the middle of her shrill tirade, unconsciously rearranging the hairstyle of her new body, "That shirt has a huge sentimental value, thank you very much!"

Dimitri sweatdropped. The condition of her body was only a little fore note compared to her shirt. "You owe me another shirt! And it can't just be any shirt! I don't know how you're going to do it, but you better!! And my beautiful hair!! It's ruined!!!"

"I think we should focus on healing that wound, first-"

"Well, duh. That's a given. What do I need to spell that out too? Do I need to point out the fact that Soren," She motioned to the body she was currently occupying with her hands, "is practically unscathed compared to me? Ugh! Absolutely no etiquette. I swear to god."

Dimitri shoved Natalija aside, earning an indignant, "Uh, excuse me?" He ignored her however, and plowed on, finding that he was getting extremely tired of being shoved out of the picture by her queen-bee attitude.

"You said we have a way out of her, Yuki?" Dimitri asked, his voice dripping poisonous honey. He was no longer as particularly concerned about Natalija's body as he'd originally been.


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Aertan watched Faewyn for a long time. He was already having second thoughts about this. After a moment of staring down at the floor, he shook his head, walking over to the table and sliding on his glasses so that he could see properly again. "Alright." Was the best he could offer for everything Faewyn had said. He certainly wasn't pleased with himself for being so selfish about everything, but he wasn't exactly an adventure seeker, like Reid. But he didn't want to be more like an overbearing, overprotective father to Faewyn. That would be… The very thought supported his decision to let Faewyn go, even if he'd sort of cheated by setting some rules.

Haeon't tossed two logs of wood into the fire as Aertan flicked his finger towards it half-heartedly, the hearth igniting from Geote's weak, dwindling flames into a healthy source of warmth. He certainly felt better than before though. At least this time, he'd be with her. And damn, he'd have to deal it out with his boss too. Fionus users weren't exactly in demand, but it wasn't exactly party-day at the station when someone who could burn through the piles of snow without much trouble decided to take an extended leave. "Go ahead and write a letter to Brandon." Aertan said, glancing at his substitute left hand, the eye in Haeon't's palm blinking before looking around, reaching into a different room for a paper and pen.


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A dark figure walked through the Slums, the perpetually dim streets and overcast sky creating the perfect backdrop for his gloomy appearance. He was dressed entirely in black, save for his red tie, and his thin, waist-length black hair drifted through the air behind him as he walked at a casual pace. His long bangs partially obscured the glint in his eye, but the slight, cunning smile on his face was more than enough to reveal the rest of his expression. The few people scattered about at this time of day, when people should've been bustling about the streets, avoiding walking too close to him. Not because of his sinister aura, but because he was dressed in clean, spotless clothes. He was obviously not from the Slums. He obviously did not belong to the Slums. And even stranger, he seemed to be enjoying his time in the Slums, which was a feat, even for the very people who lived there. The man associated himself with few people, but those who knew him, such as his tailor, or single butler, knew him only as "Guile". Not a single person was stupid enough to believe that this was his real name, but not a single person was stupid enough to ask him for his real name. He set himself apart, and this particular mission was probably the one that would bring him closest to people other than himself. Of course, despite the urgency of this mission, The Watcher, as he liked to call himself, had absolutely no intentions of rushing himself. Having decided on a passing fancy to make a short detour to the Slums, he was glad he had.

Such a beautifully impoverished place. This was indeed, the best breeding ground for humans who would value others, and survive through teamwork and loyalty. Those who did not band together with others died. Quite the simple process. Those who did band with others, survived and grew to become strong both independently, and with others. Quite the simple process.

Being in the slums was a win-win situation to the mystery man, Guile.

But he had no intentions of sticking around and getting his suit dirtied by a poor beggar who hadn't yet learned the rules of survival in the world. And so Guile made quick work of his survey, before swiftly exiting the worst, yet in Guile's opinion the best, place in the Underneath.
 
OOC: Ehh...I pretty much left it open so neither approach would conflict with anything. Isaire making an entry right about...now. :3

Oh, and just as a heads up? His part is probably going to look a bit...crack-inspired. XD

And just as an FYI, I don't have any particular plans for the old priest-poser guy who's pulling Alderian's strings right now, so if you want to use him as a disposable antagonist or whatever, go right ahead. I just figured that a guy like Stahn would have plenty of people who would like to see him dead. x3

IC:

Isaire shut his eyes, inhaling slowly as he allowed the mist that constituted his wings to scatter into a thin circle around his waist instead. He had a favored form of visualization for this particular technique, and it was that of a ring. Right now, he was standing in the center of a ring formed by his wings, in the center of a lake, the boundary of which formed a ring. This lake was in the center of a verdant valley, surrounded by a mountain boundary which also formed a ring. The mountains were in the center of a small floating islet, the edge of which formed a ring. This islet was at the center of a Betan territory, which formed a ring. This territory was at the center of a looser belt of of floating continents and islands, owned by Gregar, Tealia, Flazure, and Carn respectively. Another ring at the center of the ring that was the Earth's circumference, which was at the center of another ring formed by the moon's orbit, which-

The plufael forced that train of thought to a halt, a drop of sweat running down his brow. That had been close...far too close to losing his sense of self to the ever-expanding maze of rings. He needed to conserve his energy if he wanted to find his way back. No, not back, he reprimanded himself, this was not motion in any direction; that was why it worked. This was simply a shift in perspective. He was still in the center of the ring, which was the moon's orbit, but also the Earth's circumference. At the center of this ring was another arbitary ring of islands and islets; at its center, Tealia. At the center of Tealia, when looked at widely enough, a cluster of cities and towns formed a ring, with a specific city at its center. At the center of this city, a ring of houses, and at the center of this ring, the Davies' home. At the center of a circle of rooms within this home, a room with people in it. At the center of a ring made of these people, Adela's head. The circumference of Adela's head made a ring, and at the center of this ring was her mind. At the center of her mind, a forest of trees, and at the center of these trees, one particular tree.

That was right, the mother tree was at the center of the ring. Isaire had not moved an inch since he began his journey at the center of the ring, so he was also there. Thus they both had to be at the center of the ring. The plufael held his eyes shut for a few moments more, staring down the universe in his own mind, baiting it to find fault in this reasoning. All was silent, all was still.

And the universe blinked.

Isaire shuddered slightly, even as he saw the forest of Adela's mindscape form in front of his eyes, wiping the worst of the sweat off his brow. Despite looking every bit the child that his form had been twenty-five years ago, he was aging, and this level of concentration took its toll. Definitely not something to make a habit of.

"Xaviae?" he called, peering varily into the forest around him as his wings slowly shifted back into their usual angelic shape. It may not have been as disconcerting as what Reid's mind would undoubtedly have had to offer, but the plufael had never felt very comfortable about this particular forest. The sooner he got this message delivered the better, "I have an important message for your reila!"

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Faewyn couldn't help feeling just a little bit guilty as Aertan mentioned his boss, and specifically the need to write him a message. She hated causing him trouble like this, even if it was for important reasons, "Sorry..." she mumbled, briefly placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "I didn't mean to cause trouble for you like this."

"Oh, that's right!" Faewyn suddenly exclaimed, a sudden flash of realization causing her to flip up the noteook and pencil she still routinely carried with her, "I'm going to have to contact the university; they probably think I'm dead." she bit the eraser tip of the pencil in thought, "Hmm...wonder if I can file this under 'field research'?" she thought out loud, scratching down a number of tentative beginnings on the blank page in front of her. It wasn't that she was really that engaged in optimizing such trivial things, especially at a time like this, but right now, any form of distraction to keep her from agonizing over why the reply wasn't already there was a good thing.

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The Tealian pilgrim sanctuary was as spartan and desolate as ever, devoid of virtually all ornaments save for a single, imposing statuette depicting the goddess which dominated the prayer hall, and a tinted glass window with the sacred symbol of their faith on it behind it. It was devoid of funding too, with chipped walls and flagging paint, wrapped in a constant half-gloom with its hopelessly insufficient lighting, yet to Alderian it had been home ever since his flight from Telfin, and there was no other place he would rather have been. Especially in times as dark as these.

"You are sad, mother." the skill murmured, still in the same kneeling position he had maintained for an entire day now, head bent towards the feet of the statuette, hands clasped together in prayer, "You are sad and angry, but fear not. I am here now. I am here. I will be your wrath. Simply guide me, and I will purge this rotten world of all who would harm you."

The statue remained as silent as it had been for this entire time, silent and disapproving.

"Why?" he hissed, straining against his own impatience, "Why will you not speak to me, mother? Why will you not tell me what angers you so? You are suffering, I can feel it; why will you not speak? Why-" his concentration finally broke, the skill grasping his head with both hands, "Why..." he whimpered, "...why can I never feel anything but your displeasure?"

"Because displeasure is all that the goddess can feel right now, Alderian."

Upon hearing his name, the skill snapped to attention, slowly rising to confront the aging, robed man who strode towards him, his eyes covered by a scrap of cloth as always.

"But why, father?" he asked, head still respectfully bowed, "I have converted so many faithless, I have followed your teachings to the letter. Surely, surely it all must have made some kind of change?"

The older priest shook his head slowly, "It is not enough, my son." he said, "This world has rotted and festered for centuries, plagued by heresy and earthly sin. The Goddess' anger runs deep, and is not easily satiated. Apologies of word and thought are nothing at this point; we must make them into action. Do you understand?"

"Of course, father." Alderian replied, "But what...what can I possibly do to-?"

"Have faith." his superior replied, grasping the skill by his shoulders and locking eyes with him, "You are a holy avenger, Alderian. An embodiment of Her wrath. She has placed the greatest of trusts in you; will you repay her with doubt?!"

The skill's eyes widened, his head shaking violently, "Never!" he exclaimed, newfound passion lighting in his eyes.

The older priest's crinkly mouth formed into a smile, "That is well." he replied evenly, "Are you prepared for a new mission, son?"

"I am, father."

"Excellent." the old man replied, gesturing for the other to follow as he guided him into his office - a deppresingly spartan room much like the rest, though a desk and other basic office equipment was present - and pulling out a file with a small photograph tacked to the upper edge, which he pushed across the surface of the desk and over to the skill for inspection, "This." the priest said evenly, "Is the man responsible for the destruction of Alta. Stahn Evalice, a godless man whose arrogance knows no bounds. He tampers not just with the human body, but with souls as well, experimenting on people and faels alike." he shook his head slowly, while Alderian merely stared in revolted disbelief at the file in front of him, "We have long been aware of his presence, but he hides his trail well and is difficult to trace. It is my belief that the fate that befell Alta is a direct consequence of his godless machinations. He is highly dangerous and must be eliminated, do you undestand?"

"Of course, father." Alderian replied, his expression dead serious, "I shall hunt him down and put an end to his evil immediately."

"Hold." his elder interrupted, raising up a hand to forestall the other's rising from the chair, "Evalice is a cunning foe and not so easily tracked down. Not even I could keep track of his movements until the Goddess' intervention provoked him into tipping his hand. We must do nothing that would cause him to retreat back into his hole and out of our reach again, do you understand?"

Alderian breathed heavily, clenching his fists, but nodded, settling down again, "Then what must be done?"

In response, the priest pushed over a number of far less detailed files, their haphazard construction making it quite obvious that they had been compiled in the hurry, "These." he said, indicating the files, "Are all survivors from the destruction of Alta with no prior connection to each other, all of them arrested in Tempest on unspecified charges shortly therafter before disappearing without a trace. It is common knowledge that the authorities in this area are easily swayed, and my informants have confirmed that this very same group boarded an airship headed for this very city. There is no doubt in my mind that these are - if not prior servants of this fiend - at the very least recruits swayed to serve Evalice's cause. What I would have you do, my son, is inflitrate this group, determine if they have been coerced into working with him or are doing so voluntarily, and most importantly: earn their trust and gain an audience with their ringleader. Then, when you are certain that there are no distractions, eliminate him. Do you have any problems with this, Alderian?"

The skill's reply was instantaneous, "No, father." he said, "It shall be as you say."

"Then there is only one thing remaining." the old priest replied, procurring a small bracelet from a draw in the desk and fitting it onto the confused Alderian's arm, well beneath the sleeve, "This is a mahstion suppression bracelet." he elaborated as the device clicked into its place, "It will limit your powers to the level of an ordinary individual so that they will not draw undue attention. You must also refrain from exhibiting any of your other...talents, unless necessary. Do not - I repeat, do not - allow your true power to be exposed unless fulfilling your mission depends on it. You are to join them solely in the capacity of a peaceful healer, is this clear?"

"It is clear."

"Then I shall pray for your success, my son." the elder replied, "Please treat yourself as best you can and prepare for a journey. I shall send word to you when the time is ripe for you to make your entrance. Ophelia be with you."

"You as well, father."
 
Sip of coffee, sheet of paperwork. Another sip of coffee, another sheet of paperwork. Thus was Reid's routine every day he wasn't required to work on the field. As of late, the paperwork had been increasing substantial. Aside from the usually murders, robberies, and missing children, he now had to work on the humongous missing people report that surfaced after Alta's destruction. He chuckled to himself when he considered the fact that he wasn't as concerned with the problem as everyone else, but he'd looked death in the eyes far too many times in the past for him to even bother being afraid anymore. Besides, if it was for his wife and children, he would be strong - no, he would be even stronger if it meant protecting them, his precious family. His father had never really been there for him, well at least until he offered his life in order to save Reid from the plague, but that didn't really make up for eighteen years of negligence. He was never going to be like his own father. Never.

When he initially overheard Rosalynne shouting something about a Phoenix, he was quick to dismiss it as her playing a game. She didn't like going out that much, and when her brother left she often played games with herself that made little sense. Even at school, she preferred keeping to herself than befriending different people. That wasn't to say she didn't have any friends, she was actually quite popular thanks to her overenthusiastic personality. It wasn't until Adela called him down that Reid actually got up. It was about time for a break anyways. "Who d'ya think it is?" A young woman's voice echoed in his mind. Reid's fael, Mistral, had not changed at all in the past twenty years. She had refused to let appearance go past twenty, and thus that was the appearance she retained. Her light green hair was straight, and fell just below her bottom, and her eyes, one dark green and one light green, were as bright as ever. She even wore the same, white sundress she wore years ago, persistent on changing as little as possible. The question she posed wasn't very difficult to solve. A Phoenix looking for him? That could only be someone of relation to Ellianne. He had been keeping touch with her by letter all these years, but out of fear of the still present - though not as strong - discrimination, she had resolved not to leave the confines of her church and Flazure.

Meanwhile, outside, Rosalynne had returned to dragging Auri around, showing her various flowers and such as Lyrum accompanied them, apparently pleased to be with the youths as she smiled gently at the children and calmly carried on random conversation with them. Ellianne, on the other hand, was preoccupied with Adela, who seemed to be much more the woman than she had been twenty years ago. The way she treated her child... she was a very dedicated mother, that much was obvious. "Ah, how have I been?" She was a bit nervous, and found it weird that Adela hadn't commented on her age and appearance. But, it was common knowledge these days, so maybe she didn't care? She followed the woman as far as the stairs, but a sudden rumbling caught her off guard and she fell to her knees. That was when the black tower began to rise, the citizens overcoming a similar panic to the one that happened with Alta's fall. Lyrum took the initiative to lead Rosalynne inside with a warm smile the moment she felt the ground begin to shake, but Auri stayed back to watch. Reid too, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, raced out past Ellianne to see what the hell was going on now. First Alta, and then this? Some serious investigating needed to be done. And where was his son when all of this was happening?

The tremors finally subsided, and the tower stopped climbing, allowing for the group to regain their composure. It was interesting, to Reid at least, that the tower had struck down an air ship, that fell quickly to the ground after being split in two. He finally noticed Ellianne, and reached a hand out to her, a forced smile on his face. "Hey, it's been a while!"

Ellianne sweatdropped, but took his hand nonetheless and he pulled her back up to her feet. "You don't have to fake a smile, you know. I can tell this isn't a good time..."

"AH REID!" Auri leaped at the man, who caught the tween Phoenix girl with a little bit of confusion. He had obviously never met this person before, so how was she so familiar with him? He opened his mouth to inquire, but the girl cut him off. "It's me! Auricia! It's been a while!"

"...Auricia? Why do you... look like that?"

"She told me to!" The Phoenix child spat at Ellianne, who sweatdropped again.

"And the girl with you? The one who was inside with my daughter?"

"Lyrum. She's a singer. We're accompanying her as an order by my church. She's why we're here, actually... We need a way to talk to the Princess, and a place to rest." Ellianne took note of the exasperated look on the man's face at the implied connection he had to Evaline. It was obvious he still kept in touch with her, probably through mail or something. At least, that's what she assumed.

Reid glanced over at his wife, afraid to give them the okay on staying there without her okay as well.

---

The girl awoke in pure darkness in a cold sweat, with one word quivering on her lips. "Delphagues". Miki was quick to hear the sounds of people scattering all about, and she eventually fell unconscious once more.

---

Soren was in no mood to argue with the little witch, even if she was in his body. The glass sharp and various other wounds proved distraction enough, but then there was his constant hunger. For the love of god, did this girl eat? What the hell did she run off of? No wonder it was so difficult to move in her unfit body! Thankfully, Yuki took up sharp tongue on his behalf, since he was definitely not in a talking mood. "You do realize that he was unconscious, right? As in, he couldn't possible put up a barrier. Also, for the love of god, shut the hell up. We're all tired, we're all hurt, and we don't frigging care about what happened to a replaceable shirt! Your body is going to be in a lot worse condition if we don't treat it soon!" Talking to Soren's body about this was pretty damn awkward. There were so many others things wrong about the situation they were in, as well. There was also a lot of little things to sort out later, like how to refer to them in public.

"Would you guys... shut up? I'm exhausted." Soren managed to mumble in his sickly sweet female voice, so different from Natalija's usual tone. "So it turns out the witch is a little dation machine, so I think I can transfer us all to a place I know in Meredy where we can get help... So everyone hang tight a minute." Despite his lack of food, sleep, a healthy body, and an abundance of energy, he managed to concentrate enough to spawn a small pool of dation below the group that slowly expanded, dragging down the group members as it reached them.

---

"Er..." Reid was a bit confused when a dation portal appeared above the ground on his lawn and spat a group of bloody travelers onto the ground. He recognized Soren, but didn't rush to help. Something didn't feel right. Once again, he glanced at Adela to get an okay to do anything.
 
Caught off guard by the tremors, Adela's feet felt like jelly underneath her after they'd disappeared. And then Reid came running past her. And then Lyrum brought Rosalynne back inside. Adela reacted to the latter, moving over to Rosalynne and making sure that she was alright, before looking over at Reid, who had apparently deemed the quake as nothing major. She sweatdropped when he greeted Ellianne. What an excellent way to crack twenty years. Adela would've listened attentively, but after discerning that Rosalynne was unscatched and giving the little girl a quick peck on the forehead in relief, she'd quickly moved over to the door, peering out nervously as she tried to locate her older child. He was probably fine, as he was more rebellious and stubborn compared to Rosalynne, but the doting parent she was, she couldn't help but worry. Twisting the hem of her shirt around her index finger, Adela jumped in surprise a little when the people behind her suddenly stopped talking, and she recalled the conversation that had only just barely registered in her mind. "A-Ah, well it's fine with me, but shouldn't Auricia be in-"

An unfamiliar dation signature interrupted her as she spun around, peering outside as a portal dropped a whole gaggle of people onto her front lawn. "… Terrance!" Adela exclaimed in surprise, her eyes widening as she looked around at Reid, completely baffled. Seeing that he was obviously not about to do anything while her temper on edge (she liked visitors, but there was a limit, really.) she swiftly hurried over to the boy, who was quite flustered. "What happened here? Who are these people-"

"Me?" Natalija snarled at Yuki, "If anyone should shut the hell up it's you- how dare a low life like you say that to me while you guys are wasting my power just so we can- Hey!!"

Dimitri shoved Soren, or in this case, Natalija, aside, waving his hand at Adela and apologizing, "I'm very sorry about this, could you give us a minute to sort things out? We're having a few issues right no-"

"I don't have any issues whatsoever! It's those two," Natalija pointed at her body and Yuki, "That have the problem!"

"Stop it already," Dimitri snapped, "You realize that you're in Soren's body right now, so these people think your Soren, right?"

"As if I care- Mmmff!!" Natalija turned positively green as a wad of dirt stuck itself in her mouth.

"Very sorry." Dimitri said again, sweatdropping as he shoved Natalija behind him, "This one's not Soren."

At this point, Adela was at a loss for words. She took a few steps back into the house and looked over at Reid in confusion. This… not so amiable looking young man was not doing a good job of explaining what was going on; but Soren's periodic interjections weren't really helping either. Something was off- and it wasn't just the way Soren was talking. And then there was the girl, dressed in the strangest outfit. She was vaguely familiar, but Adela couldn't place her finger on it, no matter how much she strained to dig up the memory. The girl who looked to be in the worst condition was also somewhat familiar. Well no, maybe not her herself… Adela was utterly confused. "Wait a minute-"

"Just keep quiet for like, five minutes woman!" Dimitri snapped, cracking his hand across Natalija's neck. She was out like a light. Oops. Dimitri looked helplessly from Soren's unconcious body to the real Soren in Natalija's body, before finally stammering, "… Or… y'know. An… an hour works too…. Argh, I'm sorry Soren, I totally didn't mean to knock you out- or well not you but- you know, it wasn't on purpose and I don't have anything against you it's just that-"

"ENOUGH ALREADY." Adela barked. Dimitri looked over at the teal haired woman, who looked like her patience had long run out. "Everyone inside, you're making a scene! Whichever one of you is Terrance- if he's even here, you have a lot of explaining to do! Another portal appeared under the group, and Adela turned around indoors, ushering Rosalynne onto the stairs away from the travelers as she spun around with her hands on her hips, "First things first, the half dead ones need to be healed. I trust I can leave that to you Auricia, and I guess that'll be your payment for lodging, because I'll have you know that scrubbing blood off the floor and washing it off the lawn is not my idea of a happy weekend. And quite frankly, I'm going to go look for-"

"Woah, Mom." A tawny haired boy with wide questioning green eyes stood in the doorway. His sleeveless royal blue hoodie had slid off his shoulder, revealing the graphic prints on his white, cap-sleeved T-shirt. His black cargo shorts were torn at the knee, and a little trickle blood was slowly streaming down his leg, pooling in the heel of his flip-flops. He looked somewhat out of breath, as if he'd made it home as fast as he could, "What's going on?" His eyes were on the group of people in the middle of the living room, as confused as his mother about the strange gathering.

"Serge!" Adela's voice came shrill as she rushed over to the boy, fussing over his knee, "What happened to your leg?!"

"Oh," Serge looked down at his leg as if it was nothing, "A sword fell on me during the tremor. It just stings a little since it scraped off some of my skin, but I didn't get cut too bad. Where's Dad and-" Serge looked up, spotting Rosalynne on the stairs. And then he scanned the rest of the room for his father- whom he found relatively fast, even in the huge mess. "Okay, so everyone's okay. Except those people." Serge raised an eyebrow at Soren, "Well, Soren looks fine. Do you need me to help out?" He looked over at his mother, who looked as if all her patience had been revitalized at the sight of her relatively safe son. No longer worrying over the most important aspect now, Adela shook her head.

"Go fix up your knee. I would do it myself but-" Adela glared heartily at Soren. Or at least, his body.

"It's okay Ma." Serge sweatdropped, kicking off his flip flops outside and smearing the blood on his heel across the concrete steps before hopping inside on one leg, "Seriously, it's just a scrape." He was careful not to get too much blood on the floor, knowing how anal his mother was about keeping the house clean. "Lynn, get the first aid kit for me." Serge paused, adding a quick, "Please." At the end as he carefully scaled the stairs.

In the meantime, Adela had paused, folding her arms and looking wholly detached from anyone in the room again.

'Isaire?' Xaviae stepped out from the edge of the clearing, looking as unchanged as Mistral, and his lack of insight hadn't changed at all. He hardly even noticed Isaire's discomfort, smiling cheerfully and making small talk. 'Well this is rare. What's up?'
 
"… Terrance!"

Pethalamine had a headache.

"Me?" Natalija, who looked like Soren, snarled at Yuki, "If anyone should shut the hell up it's you- how dare a low life like you say that to me while you guys are wasting my power just so we can- Hey!!"

A big, throbbing headache.

"I don't have any issues whatsoever!" Soren's body continued in a comically shrill falsetto, "It's those two that have the problem!"

"Could you..." Pethalamine began slowly, grasping her forehead as her eyes lazily drifted from phoenix girl, to boy-that-was-girl, to girl-that-was-boy, to the strangers who were supposedly the aunt and uncle of the girl-who-was-actually-a-boy.

"Stop it already," Dimitri snapped, "You realize that you're in Soren's body right now, so these people think your Soren, right?"

"Could you all...just...please..."

"Just keep quiet for like, five minutes woman!"

Pethalamine blinked as the most immediate source of pain for her was suddenly silenced by the most unlikely of sources. Even Dimitri's patience, it seemed, had its limits. This was far from a permanent fix, however, as it was now the unidentified teal-haired lady's turn to kick any last notion of acceptable decibel levels to the curb.

She had a point about making a scene, the scholar supposed as she was ushered inside along with the others, and was probably justified in having a fit over all of this, seeing as how they had all just popped up battered and bleeding in the middle of her neat little lawn, but that didn't exactly make the process any easier on her ears. It was strange, though, when the teal-haired woman scowled like that...it...made her look familiar somehow. The chaos around her and the unyielding complaints of her body didn't give Pethalamine much chance to analyze this further, however, especially when a little boy - unidentified teal-hair's son, she assumed - decided to add to the scene by barging in with a bleeding knee.

Pethalamine raised her hand to her head again, feeling even dizzier and more disoriented than before. As much as this looked like a conversation she did not want a part in, she finally spoke up.

"...m'am?" she ventured at last, painfully aware of how much the expression on Adela's face at the moment resembled her regular look when she was immersed in a book. Specifically, the 'don't even think about bothering me' look, "...I don't want to impose but, I...could really use a lie-down...or at least something to lean on. Is there any chance that I could..?" her question peetered out. She was not in a good shape for spouting polite nothings right now.

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'Yes, it's...not often I do this.' Isaire managed a strained smile in response to Xaviae's greeting. Not that he seemed to notice the difference, oblivious as usual, 'Look, I'd love to talk, but this is urgent and it's not healthy for me to maintain such a large distance from my reila, as I'm sure you know. Faewyn really needs to speak with both Adela and her husband as soon as possible. It's...about Pethalamine.' he dearly hoped that Xaviae - or Adela, at the very least - remembered the name, 'Could you please relay this message to your Reila and ask her if it is alright for Faewyn and Aertan to pay a visit?'
 
Soren couldn't help but think that perhaps this wasn't the best place to transport the group, what with the body swap and all. He was now painfully recalling his aunt's explosive nature when it came to anyone but her children.

"Me? A low life? My family is in possession of more money than she could ever dream of!" Apparently Yuki had been irritated enough by Natalija to talk down to her even after she had been knocked out by Dimitri, which Soren was unimpressed with considering he would hopefully be re-inhabiting that body sometime soon. He probably would have yelled at Dimitri, if not for the fact that he was tired and beat up as it is, and moving that many people via dation appeared to zap a lot of energy, even for Natalija's form. He still hadn't fully grasped the fact that he wasn't himself yet, partly because he'd been pretty much immobile since he woke up thanks to the wounds her body sustained.

"ENOUGH ALREADY." Adela barked. Great, she had absolutely lost it now. He was screwed. "Everyone inside, you're making a scene! Whichever one of you is Terrance- if he's even here, you have a lot of explaining to do!" Totally screwed. Not that he really had the energy to speak up and say 'It's me!', he was having enough problems lifting his head to watch what was going on. He could tell, at the very least, that his uncle had already picked him out from the crowd. If had done that much, then since he knew Stahn, he probably had an idea of what was going on.

It wasn't much longer after that he found himself upon a bed - which had as few sheets as possible to avoid staining - with the little phoenix girl beside him, a warm light radiating from her hands, which were placed over the stomach wound. When he was completely bandaged up, he was permitted to leave the room in search of the others. It wasn't very hard, as his uncle's townhouse wasn't particularly large and he had come to visit multiple times. However, he found himself stopping every so often to adjust to Natalija's form. The very first thought that came to mind was how hungry he was. Apparently, this girl was the type who starved herself just to stay ultra thin, and as he ran his delicate hand over his stomach atop her torn shirt, he could tell she really was thin. And weak. Weak was definitely something Natalija was physically. Barely any muscle, which made it hard to lift things, stretch properly, or even walk. In the end, he had to recall how Natalija walked and mimicked it best he could. He had no idea how he was going to fight if he had to.

He eventually came upon the living room on the second floor, which was a location where people seemed to be gathering. Soren's body was sprawled across the couch, still unconscious, and Yuki seemed to be in the middle of a discussion with Reid. "Yeah, that's right. We'll do it tomorrow evening, so you should all get some rest tonight." His Uncle took a sip of a cup of coffee after finishing his sentence, and noticed Soren in the corner of his eye. "Ah, are you feeling better, Soren? Yuki here explained everything, and it's actually kind of funny!" Soren's eye twitched in disapproval. There was nothing humorous about this mess. He began absent mindedly playing with the much longer hair than he was used to. He was aware that it was a total mess, which was why he wanted to fix it before the real Natalija woke up. "It's also funny that Stahn's asked me to work with you... though I guess I'm really the only way to get an audience with Eva at this point..." The man REALLY hoped his wife wasn't listening. He had kept his communications with the Princess absolutely secret by request of Evaline, and if she overheard she'd probably kill him.

"SOREN! Is that really you!?" Rosalynne, apparently having returned from bringing the first aid to her dearest older brother, leaped into his arms. Though, he was lacking the upper body strength he usually had, and they toppled to the floor from the impact. "Why the heck do you look like that? Huh? HUH? You look so pretty!" He sweatdropped. Only Rosalynne would word it so that it sounded kind of positive.

OOC: I found time to post. \o/ Didn't get a lot accomplished, but I found time. \o/
 
While Adela had seemingly disappeared, Serge sidled into the room, putting a pot of coffee down on the table before situating himself in the corner of the room. His face was a mixture of confusion and mirth at Soren's new form, but he neglected to ask about it. With such an interesting crowd, it just didn't seem right for someone as boring and average as him to interject. His mother was quick in entering the room after him, running a hand through the roots of her hair, no longer able to drag her fingers through the long strands. After brushing aside a few stray bangs, Adela sat down staring coolly at Reid with her arms folded. Her expression demanded an explanation from him as well. She wasn't about to doubt for a second that the reason for all these intruders were attracted here because of him. She, unlike her son, had absolutely no problems with interrupting the conversation, piping up, "Faewyn just contacted me; Her and Aertan will be coming over as well. I haven't the faintest idea why they think you would know something about this girl named Pethalamine, but I won't ask right now. It sounds urgent so they'll probably be here soon. Since these are your guests, I'll let you think of something Reid, but I seriously doubt we have room for eight- ten people. If you can manage it though, I don't mind them being here."

Dimitri blinked, saying nothing until Adela left the room, announcing that she was going to be downstairs making lunch if anyone needed her. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, he looked over at Soren; or… Natalija… Or… Whatever! He was having trouble distinguishing the two in his thoughts. "Soren, is the Pethalamine she mentioned our Pethalamine?"

"Who cares?"

Dimitri jumped at the voice from the couch, Soren's face glaring at him in utter contempt. Natalija cracked her neck, sitting up and rubbing it. Throwing one leg over the other, Natalija hardly made even half the effort to copy Soren's movements as he was exerting to mimic hers; She was perfectly content with acting the way she always did. Though, it seemed the irritation at getting knocked out had somewhat calmed her down, a reverse effect completely unexplainable. "What're we doing here anyway?" She asked, propping her head up on her hand as she stared contemptuously around the room, giving a little "hmph!" when she noticed Yuki. "And how long are you going to walk around in my body with my hair in that condition, Florence? If I get split ends you're a dead man." Yawning, if Natalija hadn't been stuck in Soren's body, she probably would've looked very much like a pampered feline who'd just woken up from a satisfying nap. Albeit, a somewhat grumpy cat.

"How'd you wake up so fast?" Dimitri asked, seemingly no longer inclined to bend to her will, "I'm pretty sure I hit you kind of hard."

"Dunno." Natalija's curt response came, getting straight to the point, "Soren's body has better vitality than mine. Like I was saying. What are we here for?"

But like it or not, in Queen Bee mode, Natalija wasn't going to be sidetracked by some random worker bee like Dimitri.
 
"Mmmph..."

Pethalamine sighed, shifting her position once more. Her headache had subsided, and somewhere during her flickering in and out of sleep, she vaguely recalled someone having come around to treat the various bruises and abrasions on her body. She wasn't bleeding, she wasn't bruised, she wasn't nauseous, she wasn't deathly tired. Given the recent events, this should have felt like heaven, yet something kept nagging at her mind...

The scholar twisted around again, trying to make sense of the feeling. Hunger? No, her stomach had recently been bent and turned in a number of interesting ways whose existence she had not even been aware of until now. Healed or no, eating was still far from a priority right now. Thirst, then? Her throat felt just a bit dry, but not to any really bothersome extent. Faels? Surprisingly, they were both docile at the moment, no doubt soothed by the solitude of the guest room. This feeling...it went beyond mere physical cravings, beyond such trivialities as hunger or pain. This was a spiritual need, a gaping hole in her very being, and it would not be filled...she could not feel whole, not until...

...she found herself a nice, long book.

Groaning into the pillow, Pethalamine lingered in the bed a few moments more before reluctantly rising to her feet again. She just couldn't help it. Learning how to read, it had not only been one of her proudest achievements but also the very thing that brought her and Faewyn from an arrangement of convenience to acting like genuine mother and daughter. Reading was more than just a passtime or hobby to her; it was a way of life. Now that she thought about it, her tendency to reach for the gun...it wasn't even self-preservation but sheer instinct, the necessity to hold something in place of the usual, reassuring bulk of the tome, that strange feeling of exposure without a book to peer over. All this time...the source of all her discomfort had been something that simple?

Chuckling softly for herself, Pethalamine slid down from between the sheets and onto the cool floor beneath, chosing to proceed barefoot rather than tempting the fates by tracking the assembled dirt on her boots about the house. A book, that was all she needed. She wasn't even that picky about what kind of book right now. Just as long as it was comfortably thick and heavy and had a large enough wall of text to shield her from the outside world, she would be more than happy.

The Davies' house was a foreign one to Pethalamine, even as she couldn't help the nagging feeling of familiarity, and so she chose to simply stroll around at random, rationalizing that - unlike Stahn's creepy mansion - this was still a reasonably proportioned house where all corridors would eventually lead somewhere.

"Pethalamine?"

Surprised by hearing her name uttered, the scholar abruptly halted her march, pausing by the entrance to a slightly larger room than the others - living room, she found herself pegging it. For a few seconds, she simply lingered by the doorframe, half-contemplating whether she really wanted to go in there, half-hoping that the conversation about her would continue. When the conversation swung over to get another one of Natalija's rants, however, the young woman eventually conceded to circumstances, stepping properly into the room, knocking somewhat hesitantly on the doorframe.

"I...would appreciate knowing that as well." she reluctantly concured with Natalija's request for explanations, casting a hesitant glance at the only adult stranger in the room. Vaguely familiar too, now that she got a closer look at him, though just like before the where and when refused to surface, so the notion was quickly dismissed, "And..." the scholar bit her lip, "...this may sound like an odd request, but do you have any books around here? Mahstion, history, that sort of thing? I'm not that picky about the topic, but it would really mean a lot if I could..." she felt the color rise to her cheeks, painfuly aware of how odd this whole thing sounded, "...if I could just settle down and read for a bit." the scholar finished lamely, feeling even more awkward than before as she moved a bit closer to the group, off-handedly watching Soren as he was being healed.
 
Reid was a little more than uncomfortable when it came around to that time where Adela began to stare at him with her arms crossed. Why was she looking at him like all of this was his fault? Well... it was his fault, but not directly! He just had them dumped on him! Curse that Stahn! And then there was the problem of the Soren - witchy girl switch. It was kind of nostalgic, considering all the crap he had been put through by Stahn. But, he didn't appreciate the blackmail that was tagged onto the letter. 'If you don't comply, I wonder how your kids would like to get to know Armon and Sanako'. That guy was just as ridiculous as ever. Rosalynne and Serge really didn't need to see, let alone know about those times.

Of course, as Adela mentioned a girl named Pethalamine before deterring from the living room to make lunch, he knew who she was. Stahn's letter from the day before had specified her name, along with the rest of the people here. Speaking of the letter, now would probably be the best time, but his children had stumbled upon the room as well. "Rosalynne, can you take Serge to go help mom with lunch? There's a lot of people to feed today."

"Yup! Okay daddy!" Rosalynne exclaimed, running to grab her brother and dragging him down the stairs. There was a short silence afterwards, in which only the sound of Ellianne using wation to wash the lawn clear of blood outside could be heard. Of course, the silence was interrupted by Pethalamine, in which everyone almost faceplanted at the request she had at such a time. Before Reid could reply, his nephew finally got fed up with the person occupying his body, as the body of the girl he could only guess was 'Natalija' burst out in a high screech.

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT SPLIT ENDS ARE. THIS ISN'T MY FAULT, SO IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, FIX IT YOURSELF." Probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.

"ANYWAYS." Reid interjected, afraid of his kids or wife coming back sometime soon. "Judging by the fact that he sent this many people to me, I'm guessing he didn't think I could handle it."

Yuki sat upon a couch, his head resting on his arm which was resting on the armrest (surprise!). "Handle what? From what I gathered, we're supposed to kill some people in order to save Carn's 'innocent' Princess. Why is this something you can't handle on your own? I can tell just by being in the room with you that your wionus abilities are much greater than my own." It was weird, actually. With most people, their mahstion signal felt somewhat unstable. But, with Reid, and his wife, it was completely stable. Could it be related to their faels somehow? Where they in sync? "Call me crazy, but it seems like we're more or less insurance for a much larger investment."

"..." That kid was sharp. That, or he had good hunches. "Yeah, the task is to eliminate the Carn leaders here with strong ties to their Council. Princess Evaline is only here as a figurehead really, not even allowed to leave her room. And I guess you could call yourselves Stahn's insurance. Since this operation means I'll have to kill my own sister, I guess he wanted to make sure I could do it."

"Your... sister? Aunt Ailia? She's part of Evaline's guard, isn't she?" Soren inquired. He felt like he just had a spike shoved through his chest. His Uncle always seemed to get along so well with his sister, and she had always treated Soren so kindly.

"Yeah... and the one keeping he Princess locked up."
 
Natalija gave Soren the chilliest look before upturning her nose, listening to Reid with a grumpy face. As soon as he finished on the note that he'd have to kill his own sister, Natalija quickly jumped back to the subject that she'd wanted to cover, practically ignoring Reid's entire tirade. "So what, you want me to help you do my hair and my outfits while having to coordinate yours at the same time?" Natalija pointed to her new head of orange hair before rolling her eyes, "You need to learn how to dress and take care of my body. And for your information, my hair needs to be air dried, so don't touch a blow dryer. And you don't know what split ends are? Ugh. It's called Trichoptilosis, and it happens when someone's hair is fried or damaged. And if you don't brush out my hair, I'm at higher risk of getting split ends. I've already cut off all the split ends on your head when I trimmed it earlier, so I guess you should count yourself a little lucky that I'm the one taking care of it now, because I'm sure you'd just go and ruin it again. Anyway, you come here." Natalija motioned toward Soren, but frowned when nothing happened. She waved her hand more violently, and a block of Dation pushed her irritatingly disheveled body over to the couch she was lounging on. After forcefully pushing Dimitri off the other end, Natalija pulled Soren onto the couch, sitting up as she turned him around so that she could get a good view of her own hair. "I was actually considering the fact that you will look like a complete idiot if I fix it, since I wouldn't really pin your image with someone who's fond of playing with my hair." She said, laboriously unknotting the hair with her fingers, for lack of brush, and for lack of motivation to ask for one. "But if you insist."

"So," Dimitri interjected before Natalija could continue, though somewhat expecting her to continue speaking while he was anyway, "I'm going to be honest here and say that I have absolutely no idea what the state of the government in the above ground is like, so I pretty much have no idea what you're talking about, and I think you forgot to answer Pethalamine's question Mr…?"

Natalija cut back in, "Princess Evaline is a representative from Carn; She isn't actually apart of the royal Tealian family, whose line ended before most of us were even born. She's the younger sister of King Dian VII, who is currently the ruling figure in Carn, and the Alta territories after being confirmed as the proper heir to throne twenty years ago, having taken back his title from a false prince. Little Miss History over there could probably tell you more." Natalija ran her- or well, Soren's, hands through the black strands, feeling for any knots that may have tied themselves in the mess that was her perfect hair. Moving on to the next portion, she began work on a very small knot in a single strand saying, "I'd say that most of us will probably be more of baggage than insurance." She looked pointedly at Yuki, without much reason except for the fact that she had begun to harbor an intense dislike for that particular person.

"Well I get why Stahn roped me in then..." Dimitri mumbled, "But as much as I wouldn't understand how it feels to have to kill a family member, it wouldn't sit right with me to make you do it if you don't want to sir. Couldn't you just reason with her? I'm sure... well, not sure, but probably she'd consider it..."

"Tch." Natalija's curt interjection came, "If that was the case, then I could go home- in my body to boot, don't you think?"

-----------------

Click.

The quiet sound of the laminated glass hooks latching back in their place around the silver rings around his fingers was like an exploding bomb in the deathly silence. But Guile was content with sitting where he was for a moment longer. He had very little care for this mission. The only reason he'd even agreed to it was one, because it was her, and two, because he never rejected orders from the top. Stifling a sigh, Guile flexed his fingers. The rings that served as his weapons were fitted perfectly to his hand. While he hadn't actually met the manufacturer himself, he had handpicked the man. Solomon Deror Pace. Anyone who had a semblance of importance in the world; Guile had memorized everything he could about them. The man was an expert weapons master, as far as making an imaginary weapon come to life. His under-the-surface business dealings were an extension of his time running with a gang that terrorized the rich in Tealia, and he owned a company that produced mostly vehicles such as the skyboard, and various kinds of airships. He was also on good, albeit ailing, terms with the current King of Carn. And with that, Guile decided that it would probably be for the best if he got a move on. They were probably watching him.

Guile lifted his bloodshot, crimson eyes up to the door across the way. He really didn't want to catch the attention of anyone down here. And he really didn't like knowing everything that was going on. But he supposed, if he never experienced these things firsthand, he'd grow rusty. And that would… kind of suck. He liked fieldwork. Sitting up onto his heels, Guile glanced left, then right. Left again as he leaned forward on his toes and repeated the process.

Nobody.

What, was it vacation day? Which, Guile knew it wasn't. Freely standing from his hiding spot, Guile sighed and looked up around the ceiling, waving at nothing in particular. Of course, the purpose was for camera's, if there were any. He wasn't sure how important that girl was to Stahn's weird hobbies. Opening the door without much restraint, he smoothed out the jacket of his suit, brushing his hair over his shoulder as he closed the door behind it. What an unpleasantly dark room. Flexing his fingers, the slender man examined the room calmly for camera's. Halfway through his overview, he decided that he really didn't care. And he finally wrenched his gaze to the girl on the table. What a familiar face. Stepping over to the side of the table, Guile's unfeeling eyes let irritation flicker across his blank face. What a pain, more like. She couldn't even defend herself now. Now and always, he corrected himself.

Bending down to look at the cuffs binding her to the table, Guile sighed in annoyance, standing up. He was highly considering just sticking around until she woke up. That sounded like a grand idea. Hm.

Guile took a short breath before blowing on her face, the pale blonde strands of her long hair flying away. Well. It had been worth a try.

Maybe ten, or a dozen years ago, Guile would've reached out and pinched her nose until she woke up. But he'd long outgrown that childish business- and hopefully she had too. "Hey." Guile murmured, monotone, as he pushed her shoulder lightly. He frowned- ever so slightly. Hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless. Squatting down, Guile pulled out two needles and sighed, deciding to make quick work of the things binding her to the table first, and dragging her out whether she was conscious or not. "Stupid." He grumbled. If an outsider saw it, it would most certainly seem as if Guile did not like the girl on the table. But this was already stretching the interaction limit for Guile, and Miki wasn't even conscious.
 
Pethalamine gave a decidedly resigned sigh at the cold reception her request got, wordlessly seizing an unoccupied newspaper from a nearby table and sitting down to read it as Reid began his tirade, banking on that if this was some manner of explicitly forbidden act she would be told as much in short order. Anywhere outside of the Ayre household and the university was exactly the same; no understanding at all for that inherent need to keep your mind from detoriating in misuse. But then again, the scholar concluded, paying half-minded attention to the arguing she now felt so blissfully distanced from, that certainly explained a thing or two about the state of the world.

She felt no particularly strong emotions during the briefing, not even at the point where Reid quite matter-of-factly stated that this particular mission entailed him killing his own sister. This man was a complete stranger to Pethalamine; their only relation was the very vague link of being family with someone she might have cared about just enough to not actively stab in the back for personal benefit. In other words: his concerns were not hers, and with the comforting wall of black on white between herself and his body language, she was able to take the news quite calmly, even though this hardly raised her opinion of Evalice. The fact that she, herself, would be involved in this - even if it was only as 'insurance', as it were - was a slightly larger bother, but she reasoned that running from Tealian - or Carnite - law enforcement was easier than escaping from whatever obscure chemical compounds were currently frolicking around her bloodstream. Besides, if Evalice - against all expectation - did live up to his promise, she would be able to shed all of her major physical identifiers without too much trouble. The hairstyle, the clothing, not too hard to shed at all. Oh, it wasn't something she was particularly keen on doing, but it could be done if necessary. And even if Stahn didn't live up to his promise...well, in that case he would most likely not want anything traced back to himself, so he would have thought of some kind of cover-up. Either way, her safety was not seriously threatened for the time being.

"Evaline Diane," the scholar spoke up, apparently taking Natalija's snide remark as an actual prompt to elaborate, even as her eyes remained glued to the newspaper, "And her brother were both sentenced to death for high treason by the usurper 'prince', but they were rescued in the nick of time by an unknown third party. Rumor has it that it was the work of the Archai squad, the closest thing to soldiers that Flazure had at the time, due to their prior allegiance to the late Rosaline Dian; others credit a secret special unit of the Carn resistance, whose members supposedly had supernatural powers." she shrugged, "Whatever the case, this mysterious third party disappeared shortly after the rescue without leaving any clue of their identity. Or so official sources have it. Though personally, I think they're just saying that to save face as the near-complete lack of even eyewitness accounts for a feat that was supposedly performed in front of hundreds of people hardly sounds feasible." she nonchalantly flipped over a new page, "My hypothesis would be that someone broke into the official networks and erased the information, either that or someone in a position of considerable power has reasons to sit on it." she paused for a moment before adding, with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Not that any of this is particularly relevant at the moment, of course. Carry on."

And with that, Pethalamine returned her full attention to the newspaper, paying very little heed to the world around her until she was forced to reluctantly set it aside, having reached the end of the last article, "So, are you going to do it, then?" she asked, vaguely directing her question towards Reid, "Kill your own sister, I mean."
 
As the conversation carried on, Soren felt less and less like listening to it. He quickly became lost in it all as Natalija, against his will, fiddled with his hair. How was this all connected? Was it connected to twenty years ago maybe? And the fact that his uncle had to kill his sister, that alone was too sad, sad enough to make him want to cry, but everyone else seemed to be taking it in stride. Maybe it was because this was his family they were talking about, that he felt more overwhelmed than anyone else. But, he didn't want to say anything to the others. "OF COURSE HE ISN'T GOING TO KILL HER!" Yuki surprisingly shouted out as he got to his feet in haste in response to Pethalamine's comment. "No brother would ever kill their sister, ev-"

"I will." The interruption by his uncle snapped Soren's eyes open and his mind back to reality. Yuki bit his tongue mid-sentence in reaction. Apparently this hit a little too close to home for the both of them.

"BUT WHY? You grew up with her, right!? You shared memories, right?! You love her, right!?" Yuki had no intention of letting this go. His sister was his everything, after all. He had no way of comprehending why a brother would even give a second thought to actually doing it. It just didn't make sense.

Reid took a moment to reply, a moment to collect his thoughts, and that moment almost tore Soren in two. Part of the reason he had been kicked out in the real world by his parents was because they felt he was too soft, especially in regards to people he became acquainted with, to be a truly superb fighter. It was part of the reason he couldn't bring himself to kill Miki, and now it was taking it's toll on his personal feelings towards his Uncle's situation. "Because the world is more important than my love for my sister, that's why. I've seen a lot in my life, enough to realize that I can't be selfish. For my family, too-"

"YOU'RE CONTRADICTING YOURSELF! You say you can't be selfish, but then you bring up the safety of your family! You don't really want to-" Yuki was unaware of the fact that Soren had risen, despite the fact that Natalija was still working on his hair, and had slowly made his way over to the twin. It wasn't long after until Soren's - well, Natalija's - hand flew across Yuki's face, leaving the boy in silence.

"...Mind your own business." Soren then began to walk towards the door to the living room, apparently at his limit. "I'm going out for a while, I might be gone until it gets dark. See ya..." And with that, he was gone, the sound of the door slamming below could be heard as he left the house.

Yuki, in the meantime, sat back down, holding his face. In his eyes, he hadn't done anything wrong, had he? "Pethalamine, my study is downstairs if you're interested. I have a lot of articles leading as far back as the kidnapping of Princess Rosaline down there. There's probably some stuff you haven't heard of, as well. As for the rest of you, I guess you can do whatever you feel like until the morning. Just don't stay out too late, since the Carn soldiers here like to poke their noses out when it's dark. The operation is tomorrow night, so try and get some sleep."
 
Pethalamine didn't give any immediate response to Yuki's latest outburst, save for slowly reaching up a hand to massage her newly upset ear. Of all the things she so intensely disliked about this whole arrangement, this all-out war on her eardrums was rapidly becoming her pet peeve. Why oh why could this 'group' of theirs not keep their conversation on acceptable decibel levels for more than fifteen minutes at a time? She was vaguely aware of Soren leaving in some kind of huff, and far more pressingly aware of the fact that Soren's - well, Natalija's - hair still hadn't been completely done, meaning that the countdown to wicked harpy rage surely couldn't be more than five seconds. Just as Pethalamine was about to excuse herself from the disaster-area-to-be, however, their host finally said something that caught her full and undivided attention.

"Pethalamine, my study is downstairs if you're interested. I have a lot of articles leading as far back as the kidnapping of Princess Rosaline down there. There's probably some stuff you haven't heard of, as well."

"Really?" the scholar's eyes widened at the thought, her expression cracking into a genuine smile for the first time since this whole endeavor had begun, "Thank you, sir, I think I'll go and do just that. If you'll excuse me, then?" she added the last part to the benefit of the remaining group members, though the hasty way with which she made her departure from the room made it quite obvious that any objections would not be noted. As she stopped by the shaken boy - currently looking much more like a person who would soon have to kill his own sister than the person who would actually have to - she couldn't help speaking her mind, however.

"Yuki." Pethalamine said evenly, "Siblings kill each other all the time. Accidents, rage, jealousy, power games; just open any history book and you'll find more examples than you can care to count. Parents have been known to kill their own children too, or sell them off to slavery just for profit." she shook her head, fighting to keep her tone detached at the last example, "There's no such thing as an unbreakable bond; it's just a question of how much strain it takes to break it. He may love his sister and have a lifetime of precious memories with her, but if whatever is placed on the other end of the scales is heavier then that's all there is to it. Like it or not, that's the way the world works, so just let him handle his own sibling relations as he sees fit and be glad you're not the one making that choice, alright?"

Not waiting for any response on the matter, the scholar then proceeded in the direction of the downward staircase, adding over her shoulder "If you need me, you know where you'll find me."
 
Natalija pouted when Soren waltzed out of the door. If she had been any normal person, she would've immediately called him back in worry for her body. However, not really caring whatever trouble he got into, the girl simply lamented the fact that he was leaving dressed the way he was. She would simply have to find a way to get back at him later. Which really wouldn't be that hard. Sighing and sitting back onto the couch, Natalija glanced over at Yuki. She had to admit- though never out loud, she didn't particularly hate her older brother. But this was not the main spur. She knew he was better than her, and could kill her if he really wanted to. And being the younger sister, she would definitely not appreciate being killed by the only person in the world who had a semblance of importance. And speaking of that person, she hoped that Soren didn't run into him; because he'd most certainly ask what had happened to the shirt he'd bought her with his extra pocket money. She held up her hand to fiddle with her nails, but let her hand drop again in disappointment. Stupid body.

Taking in all this political stuff about the above grounders all at once was really not something he was absorbing very well. Something about false kings, and unknown… wait, what was it again? Dimitri decided against asking, since Pethalamine had already left, and he didn't want to bother the hosts any more than the rest of the group probably already had. He glanced over at Natalija, wondering why she wasn't saying anything. She almost always had some way to make the silence disappear in a flash. She did not speak however, staring off into space towards the door where Soren and Pethalamine had just disappeared from. She looked deep in thought. Dimitri guessed it had something to do with Soren, and not Pethalamine.

"I think… I'll go see if I can help with lunch at all." Dimitri began awkwardly, moving over to leave the room as well, but not before nearly running straight into Serge.

"Oh- sorry." Serge quickly said, stepping back at the same time Dimitri did. He leaned over to look at his father, "Mom says lunch is ready anytime you guys are done up here." She'd said more, including things that probably would've made his dad make that face of exasperation at his mom's not-quite-so-subtle stabs at his conscience. But he liked it when his dad was home, and had decided against making any more reason for him to escape the homefront. He hopped down the stairs, cushioning his landing with a small burst of wionus. He hardly flinched when his mother shrilly reprimanded him.

"Serge, what have I told you about using mahstion in the house?! I won't put up with it next time young man!" She pounded a plate down on the table hard enough for the sound to make its point, but not enough so that the ceramic broke. "Walk down the stairs like a normal person would!"

"Okay." Serge called back, with full intentions of not actually wasting his time and energy to actually walk down all the stairs when he could just hop them all at once. "What do you want to do about Soren?"

"Leave him be," Adela replied, not feeling up to arguing with Serge's obvious bid to change the subject, "He'll come back before it gets dark. The boy has enough sense to know that walking around in a girl's body after night isn't the best idea. Now come on, hurry up and eat. I'm not heating it back up if the food gets cold. Reid, hurry up won't you?!" Adela called up the stairs before retreating into the kitchen again to check on the cookies in the oven.

-----------------------------------------

It was not the fact that Guile's face even expressed emotion that showed the extent of his displeasure, it was the ugly, contorted look on his face that showed the extent of his displeasure. He was not fond of touching other people- let alone women. And he was even less fond of carrying them, because he wasn't exactly the strongest macho man in the circus. But he had to admit, after all these years, he definitely felt that she'd changed less than he. And he certainly had to admit that simply walking out of the almighty, freaky, crazy, Stahn Evalice's lab unhindered was certainly not suspicious at all. Not. Suspicious. At all. Ha. Guile's jokes were certainly as cold as his demeanor, as he quickly followed up with the rational explanation. Either he was in for a pretty little trap, or his higher ups had muddled with the mission to make sure they didn't lose an agent. Well. They were weaklings anyway…. Most of them.

The young gentleman was most certainly not interested in walking all the way back to his small countryside manor in the middle of nowhere on Gregar with an unconscious woman as luggage. Therefore, a safe distance away from the lab, blessing his lack of needing to exert much effort on the mission and cursing the boring waste of time it had been, Guile set Miki down against one of the tree's, pulling out a cigarette and jabbing it into his mouth. He reconsidered, looking over at the unconscious girl. Well damn. Pushing the rolled tobacco back into the packet, Guile tossed it aside. He reconsidered that too. Leaving an object like that in the middle of nowhere without prior approval was strictly against protocol. Well damn.

Sighing heavily, Guile leaned back against a tree, pulling the crystal hook out of the silver ring on his left index finger before letting it snap back in place. Repeating the process over and over again, Guile idly and patiently waited for Miki to wake up. Patience was his forte now, unlike back when Miki had still actually known who he was. According to the report, he shouldn't expect much from her now. Which made it ever more detestable to be on this mission.
 
"I'm going out for a bit as well. I won't be around for lunch, probably not dinner either." Yuki murmured as he got up, stuffing his hands into the pockets on the pants of his suit. He had to use all of his self control to refrain from going after Pethalamine for her comments. The part where she mentioned accidents hit him like a brick, reminding him that Saki 'died' as a result of his blunder all those years ago. The fact that one would willingly kill someone they loved was one he could not bring himself to accept. Of course, all he had in the world was the love from his sister, so it wasn't particularly bizarre for him to possess this way of thinking. On his way towards the exit, he accidentally ran into Rosalynne, who fell back onto the floor with a thud, and refrained from apologizing as he walked out the door. Would that man even kill his own daughter if he had to? Reid and Adela seemed to dote too much on their children, it would probably impossible for them to. So wouldn't that be a double standard? 'Would you kill your own daughter?' wasn't a question he was about to go asking in order to find out, however. Anyways, there was someone else he had to talk to, and that required going somewhere he never had wanted to go again.

---

Not even five minutes out of the house and Soren had already run into trouble. Great. He had heard rumors that ever since the passing away of the royal family twenty years prior, crime had gone up substantially, but he wasn't expecting to run into thugs three blocks away in broad daylight. "...Can I help you?" He murmured intimidatingly - or at least it would have seemed that way if he wasn't in the body of an obviously unfit, sixteen year old girl. It was a weird time to consider it, but why had he left earlier? Sure it was sad that his uncle had to kill his own sister, but it was unavoidable, right? It was for the best, right? But why did it feel wrong. Everything as of recently had felt wrong in one way or another. Something just didn't feel right. And what happened to Miki? Sure, he was supposed to kill her, but was leaving her in Stahn's hands the right choice? That man... something was seriously wrong with him.

He would have liked to dwell on his inner feelings a little while longer, but the punch to the gut, which brought fluids flying out of his mouth as he lurched forward snapped him back to reality. "OI! GIRLIE! Not the time or place to be zonin' out! Didn't ya here me? Get off our turf!" Oh, so this guy was interested in a fight, was he? He was pretty muscular, but he was dressed in the raggiest of rags. He mentally slapped himself for considering the man's wardrobe at such a time. Too much time around Natalija, apparently, else Stahn's little punishment was doing more than it originally seemed to be.

Soren, after regaining his composure, glanced lazily to the left, and then to the right. "Your 'turf'? Can you show me where it says your name? I can't see anything like that..." If it was a fight this man wanted, Soren would gladly provide it.

"You wench! I don't need no signs!" He threw his fist again, but he stopped as whatever-the-hell-you-called-what-he-was-wearing lit ablaze, sending him running. Soren recognized the mahstion presence. It was that older Phoenix girl from his Uncle's house earlier.

She surfaced from behind a small building nearby, laughing. "Well, it looks like you can deal with thugs here the same way you can back home!" Back home? She was from Flazure, right? Well, it was highly unlikely she wasn't. "Saves you getting Beat up, right, Soren?" How did she know his name? He had never introduced himself, especially in this form.

Lyrum made her way over to girl whom she apparently knew was really a boy. She seemed intent on talking, as she watched him curiously as she approached. Soren couldn't deny that she was cute, despite the fact that she had Phoenix wings. The fact that she had them wasn't exactly weird, but society was still a little discriminant against them. Her outfit - a white blouse and blue denim skirt - was really simple, but it really seemed to suit her at the same time. Even so, he wanted to get the first word in after being shown up. "I could have handled him."

"Oh? You could? Could you even handle me right now? You wouldn't be able to fight in her body like you could your own, not to mention I can tell you barely have enough energy to be walking around. I think you owe me~." Owe her? Was this girl after something? He wasn't really in the mood for her games. "And since you look a little sad, and I want to see the city, maybe if you come along with me you'll cheer up a little!" Soren sweatdropped. That logic didn't even make sense!

He proceeded to sigh. "Fine, it'd probably be more trouble for me if I left you alone and something happened to you, since you're my uncle's guest and all."

"'Kay, it's a date!"

"...It's a what?"

---

Light, was it? That brightness, was it daylight, or was it the too familiar light positioned above the table she had been torn open on? Whichever it was, Miki was aware of it, which meant that she had finally regained consciousness. Now the issue was opening her eyes, which had been glued shut for the last little while. After struggling for a little bit, she finally managed to open them, only to throw her hands up in the way of her field of vision to block the terrible sun beyond the tree branches. She could sense another presence with her as well, and it seemed familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.

She rolled her head in the direction of the presence, her usual look of lifelessness plastered on her face. Looking at this man that was beside her, it made her head hurt, a lot. "Are you here to kill me as well?"
 
Natalija was extremely distracted. She was hardly focusing on what she was eating, but was most certainly eating more of it than she normally would. Though each type of food was separated with at least a centimeter between them on her plate, Natalija had to say that this was probably the most she'd eaten in one sitting for quite a long while. She was terribly worried about Soren. Or more like, her body. She ran into trouble all over the place, because her sharp eyes seemed like she was glaring all the time, and then she was- of course, irresistibly beautiful. And wouldn't it be the worst if Soren ran into Jazz? Natalija let her fork fall back onto her plate at the thought.

"I'm really sorry we're intruding on you on such short notice like this." Dimitri was saying, strangely host to more table manners than should've been attributed to such a wild looking person as he was. If anything, Dimitri was just trying to find an excuse to start a conversation. He wasn't the type who could sit still at an awkward silence that consisted only of the clinking of chinaware and glass, especially at a stranger's table.

"It's fine." Adela replied coolly, stirring her glass of lemonade, "People come and go in this household on a regular basis."

"R-… Really?" Dimitri asked, wondering if that was enough to keep the conversation going.

Serge leaned back in his seat, tilting on the back legs of his chair. A fork hanging from his mouth bobbed up and down as he stared at Dimitri. "Hey, Mister…?"

"Oh- Just Dimitri. I'm not that old." Dimitri let out an awkward laugh that earned him a glare of annoyance from Natalija. She hated his personality almost as much as she hated Yuki's.

"Dimitri then." Serge continued, "Do you mind if I ask why you have so many piercings?"

Adela rolled her eyes, "Serge. Please."

"I'm just wondering!" Serge threw his hands up in defense, quickly taking the fork out of his mouth before Adela could get on his case about that too.

Dimitri sweatdropped, "No it's totally fine. There's really no reason other than the other boarders at the boarding park did the same thing. I don't like standing out too much."

Natalija snorted. She smirked, clearing her throat and interjecting in a simpering tone, "Excuse me. Totally unintentional, I assure you."

As much as she hated to admit it, Natalija's attitude painfully reminded Adela of her own quite a few years back. The now aged woman slid her gaze over to Reid uncomfortably. She hadn't had the greatest relationship with him when she'd been acting the way Natalija had been…. Bad memories. Adela wrenched her eyes away and focused on her plate. She didn't really enjoy reminiscing that far back.

"So Ellianne." Adela smiled over at the other woman, cutting through the tension without a second thought, "Have you been doing well?"

---------------------

Guile's eyes snapped open as he looked over at Miki. He was somewhat disappointed at her first comment. No. He mentally slapped himself. Even if she remembered who he was, she probably couldn't have recognized him anyway. Mirroring her expression Guile couldn't help but exert a sarcastic response, annoyed at the fact that she didn't know who he was. "Of course, I went through all the trouble of getting you out of there and waiting for you to wake up just so I could kill you." Guile got to his feet, brushing off his suit and rubbing his eyes. Suppressing a yawn, Guile pocketed his hands, looking down at Miki. Without bothering to extend a hand to the girl who was supposed to be a stranger, and without bothering to introduce himself, Guile looked around the forest, ascertaining his location one more time. As soon as he figured out the right direction he looked down at Miki. Her lack of expression bothered him, because it made him vaguely aware of how his own face looked. "Your name?" The question came more as a command than anything else.

---------------------

He had always been a tall, gangly person. No matter what, he never seemed to put much weight on. Thus, he preferred to hide his physical ineptitude underneath a deep navy blue cloak, pulled together at the base of his neck by gold tassle rope, two ruby brooches on either side. Underneath, he wore a black formal shirt over a white mailcoach style cravat. His pressed black pants and simple black shoes would not be the first giveaway to his status, but the golden crown on his head was most certainly enough to give enough hint. His cloak billowed out behind him as he walked confidently across the red carpeting. Before, he shuffled. Before, he stuttered. But now, he stood proud, walked straight, and was known for his curt tongue.

Piper Dian was not a young spineless teenager any longer. He was a twisted man who had long blurred the line marking the barrier between the person he'd envisioned himself to be, and the person that he needed to be. His chestnut brown hair had not changed at all in twenty years, not in style, not in its unruly curling at the ends, and nor, to his great displeasure, had his soft green eyes lost their baby-like charm. King Dian VII had an ugly look across his face. The deepest frown creased his forehead as his eyes almost looked intimidating. He was not amused by the loss of an entire territory. He was so irritated that he ignored the man with smooth blonde hair and icy blue eyes in a black pinstriped suit standing beside the arch of Piper's bedroom door. He was so irritated that he didn't give a second thought to the fact that Solomon was probably here to give a report on the state of affairs in Tealia after that tower had crashed through it.

The King was not interested in those petty affairs. "Princess Evaline is safe." He heard Solomon say.

"My happiest sentiments." Piper replied, waving the affair off without much consideration. He ignored Solomon's disgruntled frown. He didn't care what other people thought of him. Or maybe he cared too much. If he needed to change to look better for fifty people, he would change. The opinion of one man would change nothing.

Solomon turned on his heel, the clicking of his slick black shoes muted against the soft carpet.

Piper Dian had just lost the battle, but most certainly not the war.
 
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