A Storm's a Comin'

Roleplay Library Unsorted RP
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1

http://www.varimeteo.net/images/rainstorm.jpg
The highest and most beautiful things in life are not to be heard about,
nor read about, nor seen but, if one will, are to be lived.

Søren Kierkegaard

Maybe he knew he was alive but wished he were dead, or perhaps even, it was the disbelief that he could have possibly survived that had kept him frozen motionless while he listened to the strange incoherent sounds around him.

“How is he today Elysia? … No change, I take it? Do not worry miss, I believe he will be just fine. He is recovering slowly but give him time to heal. He is in good hands.”

The incomprehensible language sounded strange and foreign, like something from another planet or time. Damon struggled to listen while the nearby machines forcefully pushed air into his lungs. Every minute he spent awake was torturous in his current state for he felt little more than a head and half a chest attached to a machine that was breathing for him.

It was over the next few days that Damon gradually regained his bearings. He was able to learn that he was indeed alive. The pain he felt break through the heavy drug induced states periodically reminded him this was no dream. In the moments when the paralytic agents and the pain medication broke enough to allow him to feel his body, he grew more consciously aware that he was relatively intact with the exception of his right arm. Each conscious moment brought him closer to the realization he could no longer move nor experience sensation in his right arm, if the arm was even there…he dared not look.

A week passed as Damon explored his body in the broken conscious states. More frequently he experienced consciousness, learning that he must have been in a hospital. He knew he had at least two or three different nurses on a given day. He also knew that they came to check on him every fifteen to thirty minutes, a time he determined by the mechanical puffs delivered by the machine. Somewhere half way through the week, one of the nurses suspected he was regaining consciousness, but he was able to sufficiently stave them off from coming to the conclusion he was quite aware of what was going on.

Through it all, a warm presence, no doubt Elysia, drifted in and out during his conscious moments. She came a few times a day, holding his hand and willing him back with kind desperate pleas.

It was no surprise though, when the nurse finished assessing her charge and stepped out of the room that Damon snapped open his eyes for the first time. The room was darkened for comfort and it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night outside. The machine breathing for him became an intolerable annoyance as he tried to breathe on his own. The high pressure alarm sounded as Damon fought against the mechanical breathing. Giving the machine control, Damon struggled a moment to synchronize his breathing with the machine, silencing the alarm. Uncomfortably breathing, he looked around his room. More tubes and lines were attached to him than he could immediately count. Escape would be difficult. Elysia was not present, which meant that it must have been late night. He only had thirteen more minutes.

He struggled to sit, learning at that moment that his right arm was still attached but not functioning. He stared at the lifeless limb resting at his side and willed it to move but it remained motionless. He touched the arm and felt that it was warm but could barely distinguish his own fingers pressing into the skin of his arm. Something was wrong. Ten minutes.

Fear began to grip him. What had happened? His last memory was of the sky and Elysia’s panicked face, but even those moments were vague memories in his mind. His chest began to sear from the exertion of forcing himself into a sitting position. Lines tugged at his skin as he fought against their short connections. Clearly it was not intended that he should sit. Eight minutes.

Stilled by his lost memory, mysterious pain, and nonfunctioning arm, Damon temporarily lost track of time. The machine again resumed its annoyance over him. In a desperate attempt to escape, he used his left arm to pull at the tube. Instantly, he felt a choking sensation as he realized the tube was inserted into his trachea and would not be removed so easily. He pulled again, disconnecting the tube from the machine and immediately, he regretted the decision. He fought to catch even a single breath, but found his lungs could not take in as much air as he needed. The tube inserted down his throat sufficiently blocked his attempts to take in more air. Fighting for a breath of air, he grasped at his throat, again trying to pull out the tube as the low pressure alarm from the ventilator sounded.

Losing oxygen quickly, Damon became lightheaded. The sounds of nearby footsteps rushing his way became louder and more urgent. He was so close to freedom. Just another minute or two. That was all he needed. Pulling what tubes and lines he could out, he pushed himself towards the edge of the bed. His vision blurred and danced with blackness but he continued on, pulling himself closer to the edge with the bedrail.

“Oh my goodness! I need help! He’s awake,” a terrified voice sounded as several more rushing pairs of footsteps joined.

Several hands pushed his weakened body back into place on the bed. He still struggled to breathe, his vision closing around him. Gasping and pulling at the tube, he found his arm restrained quickly. Fear crept into his eyes. What was happening?

He looked around before a nurse stabilized his head while another nurse manually bagged air into him. His eyes met the nurse’s eyes holding his head; locked in a moment that seemed an eternity. Please his eyes pleaded. The empathetic eyes looking back into his own, as if to say, “it’ll be okay.”

“What’s his name?”

“Diehl. Damon Diehl. Why?”

The man holding his head turned back to Damon, his eyes again looking into Damon’s fear stricken desperately pleading gaze. “Damon. You are in a hospital. You were injured. We are here to help you. But we need you to relax, okay?” the man’s voice was reassuring despite the evident stress in the room.

Even while the other nurses pulled at him and reattached the various lines he removed, the man continued to look into Damon’s eyes, a solitary stable figure amid the chaos. However, the fear still filled Damon as he clenched his jaw, biting down on the tube sustaining his life. He tried to shake his head, but the man held his head firm. He tried to fight for his freedom, to regain an ounce of independence. All was gone. All control he possessed had been removed. He was powerless against these people who were free to do whatever they liked to him. He fought against them all in that moment, bucking and arching his back against the arms. He kicked and tried to roll away but found that many hands immediately returned him to his position. Again he struggled until he realized that he was no longer breathing.

The realization that he stopped breathing brought with it the fear of his impending death. He tried to breathe, but his body would not move. All muscles simultaneously weakened as he slumped into the bed. Staring up, unable to even blink, Damon watched the others nearby him finish reconnecting the machines.

“He’s paralyzed now. Someone get him a sedative please. He doesn’t need to be awake for this,” one of the voices pleaded.

Powerless, frozen, unable to move a single muscle, Damon stared straight ahead of him. He shed but a single tear, all that was needed to convey his absolute helplessness and powerlessness. It was all needed to bring back the eyes.

“Damon…hey…it’ll be okay. We’re just trying to help. We’re going to give you something to help you sleep now. You’ll be okay…” the voice faded into blackness as the sedatives began to kick in, plunging him into sleep.

Meanwhile, the panic of the room settled as the staff finished connecting Damon back to ventilator. As the chaos settled, the help dispersed slowly, until all but two nurses remained. Together they stood by Damon’s bedside, watching the mechanically forced rising and falling of Damon’s chest.

“Do you think he can still hear us?”

“I am not sure. He did give us quite the scare although. I had no idea he was awake, did you?”

“Not a clue, but he could have just woken up. Poor kid. This has got to be terrifying for him, to awake to a strange place in a different nation, and not remember how you got there or what happened.”

“I think that might be the last of his worries when he wakes up again. Let’s let him get his rest now. He will need it for his recovery…he has a long road ahead of him.”

With the conclusion of the conversation, both nurses drifted out of the room, leaving Damon to his drug induced sleep.

2

(OOC: Copy-pasted from Todd’s thread, which this plotline has had progressively less and less to do with. If you’re reading this and don’t know who these people are and/or what’s going on, PM me)

As Julien began to shiver and mumble in his sleep, Dimitri pulled Julien closer and shifted the man’s weight in his arms, eliciting only a slight stir from Julien who mumbled incoherently about nearby evil.

Sensing the man’s sudden apprehensive fear, Dimitri looked up to Anna, knowing deep down that she was the one responsible for Julien’s torn soul. The small archfiend seemed to hesitate at his presence, its eyes darting towards the open door now behind Dimitri and back to the shivering mumbling Julien and Dimitri, as if it were debating whether to flee, face the reaper, or hug the shivering man. Guarded, the Betrayer stepped back some as Dimitri moved closer.

Dimitri too uncomfortably looked from Anna to the door and again to the sleeping man in his arms. His mind raced with the thousand possibilities that could happen at any moment. Here was the Betrayer, one capable of tearing his own soul to shreds; one who had not many hours ago ripped apart the soul of the man in his arms. The limitless power of destruction this being could wreak littered the ancient Keigan texts. Even more modern religions hinted at the Betrayer, the apocalypse, Judgment day, the coming of the end. The dark storm brewing, ever slowly nearing, but Dimitri knew the truth, the glimpses of the truth not written in the texts. Here before him was one of the many, beings of unspeakable destruction and evil unknown to most of mankind.

But Keiga was with him, he could feel her nearing presence as he stepped closer to the child masked Betrayer. She would not leave him, not in this crucial moment. Deciding to stay and face this challenge before him, Dimitri felt a strengthening of his internal faith and belief in Keiga. Placing Julien on the bed and covering him with the hostels cheap battered sheets, Dimitri took a seat in one of the rickety old chairs nearby as he turned to face Anna.

After a moment of silence, Dimitri spoke softly, his foreign accent heavy but his words still clear, “My name is Dimitri. I am an Aquarian,” he slowly lifted the golden teardrop from the chain around his neck, “a messenger of Keiga. I came to save this young man and help guide him back into his faith.”

Dimitri seemed to withhold information for a moment, watching the small child before him analyze his words as she too moved closer towards Dimitri. She propped herself on the edge of the bed, far enough away should she need to run, but close enough to scrutinize the man’s expressions and demeanor. “Go on,” she insisted, knowing that the man was not telling the whole story.

Dimitri smiled, his lips curling up, as if he were hoping she would press him for more information. “I also came to find Death. I was told I would find the Champion of Death accompanying this man. Would you happen to know who else this man has been traveling with?” Dimitri asked, his leg crossed as he leaned forward in the chair, seemingly relaxed despite the internal nervousness at the child’s deceptive abilities.

“An Aquarian.” Anna repeated the word. She had never heard it before, yet she knew perfectly well what it meant, strangely enough. Surprised, she turned away to look in the window as Dimitri spoke; the room’s feeble light was enough to create a reflection, and in the reflection’s face she saw a sort of cold and dreadful majesty where a pretty smile had been before. This was not the way things were supposed to be, she protested inwardly. And yet, she reminded herself, this was the way that things were. Dimitri surely knew the truth about her as much as she knew that about him.

“Death? It’s not often that someone goes looking for death.” she said, turning back to face Dimitri. “Usually they find it without looking. In any case, he was traveling with a group from Mahanoy, but they are all dead now, or at least I think they are.”

The child is death? The thought struck him as odd, a lingering amusement that this Betrayer archfiend could possibly be the Champion of Death. Yet, surely she must be. Keiga would not have sent him on a mission to find Death had the Champion already been killed. Death was not supposed to die; not in the sense that one would attach to death at least.

Dimitri seemed to scratch his well groomed beard as he leaned forward, examing the outer appearence of the child despite knowing the answer he sought would not be found externally. Deep in thought, he contemplated how to determine the legitimacy of Death around this child. This was not so clear cut as it was with the other Champions. The other Champions were not the Betrayer. Could this child even be Death?

“You injured this man,” Dimitri spoke, not so much of an accusation as it was an observation.

“He looks fine to me.” Anna observed, pointing to Julien. As if noticing, Julien whimpered a little and edged further away as he slept. “But yes.”

A moment of silent contemplation passed as Dimitri tried to piece together Anna’s detached response. There had to be a reason why Keiga would bring him here; why she would put him so close to this Betrayer if she has absolutely no significance? Yet, here she sat, almost taunting them with her ability to take away something even more valuable than their lives.

“You know that I am going to ask why,” Dimitri responded simply.

… TO BE FINISHED.

3

“He killed someone valuable to me.” Anna said with a voice suddenly colder than before. Thoughts of how she had felt upon learning that Karl had killed Damon played upon her memory; her feelings of anger did not resurface, but she remembered them quite vividly. “When I learned, he was caught in the backlash. The others died.”

Dimitri intensely looked to Anna while he scratched his clean-cut beard. His eyes tried to look into the depths of her soul, but he could find nothing. To Dimitri, the world destroying beast within blacked out any innocence this child may have had before it had possessed her. Dimitri could scarcely imagine how something so ruthlessly merciless and menacing could find itself into this small child; even moreso, what this creatures intentions could possibly be. If there was one thing he felt certain about right now it was that archfiends did not have a reputation for doing others good.

A slight burning nervousness within crept up his spine. Had he just been lured into a trap? The question plagued his mind, but he clutched the teardrop around the chain on his neck and inhaled deeply, restoring his faith in Keiga. She was with him now, he just had to have faith that she would protect him in the face of this great adversary.

Exhaling slowly, a controlled breath, Dimitri again leaned forward and looked to Anna. Who was significant enough for Anna, this Betrayer, this archfiend world destroyer, to go on a murderous rampage upon learning of that person’s death? What was it to this child if someone died? Was that not their sole purpose…to eradicate all other life forms? Phrasing his thoughts carefully, Dimitri spoke slowly but deliberately, “May I ask who was that valuable to you? What could that person provide you that you cannot get from your friends?”

“But he was one of my friends.” Anna said insistently. “It was one of my friends who was killed by Julien’s group from Mahanoy. You can’t honestly tell me that you wouldn’t feel anything if someone had murdered a friend of yours.” There was something very wrong about the way she said it; it was a sort of cross between a stern parent’s lecture and a child’s overprotectiveness of their toys, with a dash of something definitely not human. It was not the first time Anna had overlooked such things. “Could you?”

Dimitri looked to Julien with a new light. Julien seemed so innocent, but yet he had come with a group of others from Mahanoy, a place Dimitri had heard little about, and had slain another Betrayer. What powers did these men possess? He again looked to Anna with a curious stare, “I have faith in Keiga, that she will do what is necessary to prepare me for the awaiting storm. The hurtful feelings of losing friends is sometimes necessary to overcome in order to be more prepared for a much more daunting task in the future. Do you not agree?”

“I am no stranger to loss.” Anna confessed, bowing her head, the strange tone gone. “The lights are going out…the life is going out of this world, later if not sooner. One way or another I shall have to say goodbye to everything I have ever cared about.” There was a long silence. “I have accepted this.”

Dimitri again smiled, an act much more kinder than before. He stood up and walked over to Anna, confusion still in his mind, but a clarity surfacing, “Spoken like Death,” he mused as he placed his hand on Anna’s shoulder, feeling the unsual coldness and absence of life of the child.

“But that does not mean I do not grieve. Quite the opposite.” Anna moved away from Dimitri, slipping out of his hand and going across the room to Julien. She did the same motion, touching her hand to hold his shoulder. Julien moaned and turned away in his sleep. To lose someone is inevitable. To have them taken is infuriating." Again she tried to reach out to Julien, putting an arm around him to steady him. He pushed away groggily with his own hand, a forceful and uninentional motion. She backed away and bowed her head, seemingly and uncharacteristically disappointed.

“So…how do we help him?”

(OOC: Post written in collaboration with DFD)

4

Clutching the steaming cup of cheap coffee between his hands, Julien huddled over the mug while Dimitri and Anna engaged in hushed whispers across the diner’s table. Still clothed in pajama pants and Dimitri’s sweatshirt, Julien struggled to keep warm despite the stifling heat of the cramped diner. Ever since that moment Anna snapped, he felt so cold, an uncontrollable cold eliciting shivers in the absence of a temperature drop or illness.

He had been damaged; Dimitri had explained that much. He explained that Julien’s soul had been torn and that they would help fix him. Even still, their reassurances did little to ease Julien’s concerns and fears in his perpetual state of coldness.

“I’m cold again,” Julien spoke, his shivering lips uttering the words while his shaking hands held the hot cup to steal its warmth.

Dimitri nodded and placed his hand on Julien’s back, “it may take some time before that goes away. Hang in there though, Keiga is on your side. It is a matter of fai-” Dimitri cut off as he looked up to the dinging bell that announced a new enterence.

The commanding presence of military leader stood in the doorway, looking about the diner, as if expecting to see someone he knew among the others here. The man simultaneously seemed so oddly out of place yet at home with the people…a man of another world so easily fitting into their world. It took him only a few seconds to spot who he was looking for and within seconds, he was striding towards them.

Despite his evident commanding presence, he seemed forelorn, as if life had recently dealt him a hard blow to recover from. He stopped before their table and looked to the small child, so untypical for a Kuro team member, but yet again, Damon’s team was far from normal.

“Alexander. I need you to return with me. Your mission has been terminated due to recent circumstances,” his stern voice seemed broken.

“This is a friend of yours?” Dimitri asked Anna, as he regarded the officer before Anna. The man was clearly an officer despite any discernible insiginia suggesting such; his demeanor spoke of someone accustomed to being in command.

“Of sorts.” Anna said sheepishly. She had not expected that the two would actually be in the same room. “I have obligations to him, at least.”

Dimitri looked to Anna, a quizzical look spreading across his face. The Champion of Death, this Betrayer archfiend, certainly had interesting friends. The more he was learning about her, the less she seemed to make sense to him. She was not at all what he had expected.

Looking up from his steaming cup, Julien peaked out from beneath the hood of the sweatshirt to see Novac standing before them. His heart momentarily stopped in a state of silent shock before the thought registered. Sliding away from his coffee, Julien seemed to pale even more, as if looking at a ghost. “General…” he whispered quietly.

“General?” Dimitri now seemed intrigued by the man’s associations to Anna even more, but Anna only seemed to disregard Dimitri’s curiosity with a brush of her hand as if to say ‘not now.’

Novac turned his attention to the hooded man. He seemed to stare for several moments, trying to discern who the man was before he spoke, “Kolt? What are you doing here?”

Julien looked to Anna and Dimitri before returning his gaze to Novac, “Sir, I…I…failed my mission. Diehl’s dead, sir. It’s why you are here, isn’t it? It’s our fault sir. We killed the boy.”

Novac seemed to shudder within although externally his muscles tightened momentarily as he stood straight backed before them. He seemed to bite back an intense emotion before he too slid into the booth aside of Anna. Placing his head in his hands, he slumped down, looking defeated.

“Diehl’s still alive. Critical still but recovering slowly. He wanted me to retrieve his team personally. Where are the others?”

Frowning, Julien looked to his mug and momentarily hestitated before speaking softly, barely above a whisper, “dead.”

“You mean to tell me an entire Mahanionian hit team was killed, and you survived? How is that possible?” Novac seemed now to shift uncomfortably, plagued by the thought that so many trained men could so easily have been killed.

Julien again paled and clutched his mug with a tightening grasp. Shuddering uncontrollably, he looked up to Anna with an almost frightened look.

Unoblivious to Julien’s discomfort, Novac turned his eyes back to the child, "do one of you mind telling me what happened?

5

“They, uh…” Anna fidgeted, looking to Dimitri, who shook his head and offered no response. “Well, you see, they all…”

“She killed them.” Julien murmured, leaning over his coffee and staring straight ahead. It was apparent that he didn’t even want to look at the object of his accusation. “Anna here killed them all.”

“I did no such thing!” The Kandarinese girl protested. “Do I look like someone who could…”

“I saw you.” Julien said more loudly; there was a little more courage in his voice but he still would not look at Anna. “You ripped Karl’s throat out with your bare hands. You cut all the tendons out of Quentin’s hand and shot him when he tried to run away.” He shuddered a little. “I…I don’t know what you did to Vince.”

“He shot me!” Anna sulked, dropping one protest for another. “Six times.” She added with a sort of little pout: “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not that!” Julien said clearly, his voice returned to its normal tone. Perhaps Novac’s presence and seeming command over the child emboldened him; perhaps he was grasping for a little more faith in himself, but for a moment his sluggishness was gone. Another, and it was returned; he went back to sulking over his coffee.

6

Novac sat back in the booth and looked firmly ahead of him. No doubt Julien was telling the truth, but even with that knowledge, the fact that a nine year old child killed one of Mahanoy’s top hit team was deeply unsettling. In a world of rapidly advancing technology and weaponary, Novac began to feel like he was starting to lose his touch.

For a moment, silence fell among the table as each respectfully left the other to their thoughts. Dimitri too, fell silent, as he ate the remainder of his breakfast. It was not until Novac stood sharply that anyone considered speaking.

“Where are you going?” Julien asked, as he looked to Novac for an answer, a word, anything to bring him peace of mind in that moment.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, Novac placed the small black object on the table with its glowing face-plate identifying the caller. “The others have been located. Alexander, I promised Diehl I would personally find you and return you to Shiro’s campus. I do not know what that boy sees in you but you must be important to him if he insisted you be found. I have already arranged transportation. Shall we go now?”

“Not without answers.” Anna looked away from Novac for a moment; the general couldn’t help but notice that she was the only one without food or drink on the table. She realized this too, and for want of legitimate distraction, looked back at him.

Novac remained standing as he contemplated Anna’s request, his commanding presence towering over the rickety table. In a moment of silence, the three men seemed to drown out the small child. The awkward situation began to draw the attention of nearby locals, an unwelcome attention Novac could sense without looking. Determining that their departure would be delayed until Novac answered Anna’s questions, he slid back into the booth aside Anna.

Turning to face Anna, he placed his black gloved hands on the table. “What would you like to know?”

7

http://images.tabulas.com/11014/l/eagle-2.JPG

Sun filtered through a break in the clouds; its soft golden rays warming the back of one of the nurses who had volunteered to sit outside with her charge. She watched as he silently sat in the hospital owned wheelchair. Lady Persephone’s sister sat aside of him on a bench fumbling with a string on her sandels, her platinum blonde hair catching the sunlight like a rare jewel unearthed for the first time. Neither spoke to the other but rather they seemed to communicate through an entire nonverbal language.

A strong breeze blew, rustling the hair she had let down while outside. The nurse watched her charge look up to the sky as the breeze hit him. It appeared as if he longed to be in the sky, flying with the eagle circling above him. Pain entered his face while he watched the eagle circle. Elysia seemed to sense this and reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, as if saying that it would be alright.

She wanted to help him, Damon, the young man, but stood her distance and continued to watch. She was there when they told him that the bullet had severed his brachiocephalic artery. The subsequent blood loss had caused damage to the nerves in his right arm and as a result, he had decreased function and sensation in his right arm. When they told him, he just stared at his lifeless arm and ever since, he just seemed to stare into the distance as if looking for a dream that was lost to him. Elysia, always by his side, seemed to be the only one who understood, who knew what it was that Damon believed he had lost. But he never spoke, even has he struggled through intense physical therapy. Silently, he endured the pain, struggled to reach the next step, far exceeding all their expectations in his recovery.

The nurse continued to watch Damon and Elysia hold hands while the strong wind began to pick up as heavier clouds moved in, blotting out the warm afternoon sun. Damon still watched the eagle enjoy its high ascending flight above them. He watched with sadness in his demeanor as the eagle soared and twisted with the gusts. The pain of loss was deeply set in his entire being as if he would give his very life to be that eagle at that moment.

Several minutes continued to pass before Damon hunched over clutching his wound. Elysia remained at his side and leaned towards him, rubbing his back. They knew this was common; he seemed to suffer a residual psychosomatic pain from the gunshot wound. It was as if he could still feel the bullet in his chest.

Although it concerned her to see her charge in such pain, she continued to stay her distance. Elysia had requested to sit with him outside alone for his health. If it was not for his history of trying to break free from the hospital, they may have let him. But being that he was such a high risk patient to begin with on top of his diplomatic position, the recent international crisis, and his VIP status appointed by Lady Persephone herself, they could not allow the possibility of further harm being brought upon him.

In fact, she admittantly volunteered to take Damon outside in hopes of seeing Lady Persephone who was rumored to plan to visit her sister and her friend in the hospital that day. Why this man had chosen Elysia over her sister, she could not understand? Clearly, Lady Persephone was far more stunning in beauty, intelligence, and power. Elysia, well, she seemed to careless, stumbling all over the place. How could someone so simple attract the attention of this apparently “elite” status Mahanionian man?

But there he was now, sitting there holding Elysia despite his evident pain, as if he were trying to shield them both from his pain. What he saw in her was something special, something beyond looks and intelligence; what they shared, that unspoken connection, was something only she could only dream of.

“Excuse me*,” a voice came from behind the nurse. Shocked, her heart skipped a beat as she startled. She turned to see several armed guards. “I take it that is Lady Persephone’s sister and her friend?”

She nodded in confirmation but could not find the words to speak.

“Secure the perimeter,” the lead guard spoke as the others fanned out.

She looked for the lady, whose presence had yet to be revealed, but turned back to Elysia and Damon, who had returned to their original positions: Damon in the chair staring at the sky, watching the eagle, longing to be that eagle who looked down upon them while Elysia sat on the bench, hugging her knees and reading to Damon a book in an unfamiliar language.

  • Italics denote speaking in Elafosian.
8

“Is he long destined for this world?”

“E… Excuse me?” the doctor leapt a few steps to catch up with Persephone.

“Is he going to die on us?”

“No,” the doctor let out an exasperated gasp and jogged back in line with Lady Cora, “He should be fine, physically.”

“Mentally?”

“Oh,” the doctor scratched his beard in though.

“Be honest Doctor Epidaurus.” Persephone stopped, the doorway to garden several metres ahead.

Asklepios stopped beside her. “Physiologically, he is recovering well, exceeding expectations in his therapy. Psychologically, he seems to have shut down.”

“I see. Suicide risk?”

“Suicide risk.” Asklepios repeat the words with hushed resentment.

“Thank you, Doctor. That’ll be all.” Persephone continued down the corridor, one of her guards opening the door for her. She stepped out into the sunlight and paused to gaze into the sun. She glanced towards a nurse stood nearby who quickly looked away and seemed to shrink from view.

Elysia froze as she noticed the guards fall silent. She looked up from her book and gasped as she saw her sister standing infront of her. “Persephone?”

Persephone didn’t answer, she was looking directly at Damon. Persephone was eerily similar in appearance to Elysia albeit taller and her hair was barely a shade darker, the main difference was her presence. Persephone’s gaze lacked emotion and she stood with perfect posture with the slightest hint of barely contained aloofness. “Damon Diehl.” Persephone stated before looking at two of her guards who had edged slightly closer as she approached Damon. “It’s warm. I hope you are enjoying the weather, it is not usually like this.”

9

Reluctant to cease looking at the eagle, Damon slowly brought his gaze to Lady Persephone. For a moment, he thought he was looking at Elysia, but he turned to look at Elysia sitting beside him uncomfortably, no longer with the ease and carefreeness she possessed moments ago. This must have been the sister she had told him about, the one who had arranged for his transport to their nation in the first place. The one who she had slipped slight warnings about when no one was listening.

With the realization of who this woman was, he tried to stand as a customary sign of respect in his nation, but found his body too sluggish to respond. Collapsing back in the chair, he awkwardly attempted to wrap the standard hospital blanket closer around himself with one arm. The thin gown and pants did little to provide him much warmth, and even though the temperature was pleasingly warm, he still shivered with the wind. It was Elysia who managed to fix the blanket to drap over his shoulders, a simple kind gesture that brought pain back into Damon’s face. The fact that even simple tasks were difficult for him reminded him how unlikely it was that he should ever fly again. The reminder silenced him, making it difficult to respond to Persephone’s presence.

Persephone glared at Elysia, giving Elysia “that look,” as if to ask her, this was the riff raff you brought home? The cutting look only made Elysia sink further into the bench. Damon, on the hand, was blind to their silent interactions. He was again clutching the wound on his chest, his focus more on trying to remove the pain.

“Forgive me, Lady Cora,” he spoke, his deep voice a quiet whisper barely louder than the wind blowing, “I would stand to properly greet you but I am afraid the medications I was given was intended to keep me from trying to run.”

Lady Persephone stood unflinching, her impeccably straight posture impressive even for Mahanionian standards, a fact Damon could not help but respect. “Are our services not adequate for your needs?” she asked, her voice sharp, testing Damon.

With his central nervous system slowed, Damon stared blankly at her for a moment, as if painstakingly trying to process what she was asking. His gaze again wandered to the eagle, reminding him of the freedom he no longer possessed. After a few minutes of silence, Damon brought his eyes back down to Persephone, “Lady Cora, I am most grateful for your hospitality. You and your nation have been remarkable. You have taken excellent care of me during my recovery. I may have received no better care at home…” he drifted off again longing to be in the sky.

10

Seemingly in imitation of Novac, Anna likewise folded her hands on the table. Novac looked to her, and could not help but notice that she was also wearing identical black gloves. In fact, the only real difference between her clothing and his unadorned black uniform was that hers had incorporated a skirt. Save for that small difference, she looked as if she had just stepped out of a Mahanonian military review.

“First…how did Damon survive? What happened after he was attacked?” Anna ticked off fingers as she asked questions. “What happened after we lost contact?”

Her tone suddenly became less childlike and more serious, and she glared at Novac. “And why was there a hit team from his own country with orders to kill him?”

11

Novac internally dreaded the turn of conversation. The questions Anna asked were far too complex for a nine year old to know, yet alone to be asking. He stared at her small gloved hands for a moment before looking back to her eyes. Her small figure now looked battered since he had last seen her, but again, she also looked much taller then as well and people did not just shrink, especially children. He felt as if he were losing his mind, knowing that the turn of events and lack of sleep he had would be enough to make anyone lose their minds.

Looking to the table’s occupants, Novac remained silent as he collected his thoughts. “Alexander. I am not authorized to discuss what I know to non-authorized personel. At the end of my day, I still must answer to Mahanoy. However, as a friend to Diehl you deserve to know that Diehl survived by chance. Someone else took the brunt of the bullet’s impact for him.”

Now interested, Julien closely watched Novac, hopefully crossing his fingers to hear about Damon’s condition. If Damon were still alive, he would not have to face Aria with the news that her son had been killed, and his mission would not have been a complete faillure.

“After the attempt on his life, Diehl was transferred to a safer nation for recovery due to increasing hostilities. After your communication link was cut, I was informed that there others involved in Diehl’s mission and charged with the task of returning you safely to your homes. You should know that Diehl’s mission was outside of Kuro Institute’s policy. This places us all in a very difficult posit-”

“What he means to say Anna is that Damon is in serious trouble and you all can be implicated to the Mahanionian and foreign governments as accomplices,” Julien cut in, looking to Anna despite the uncomfortable twisting of his innards, “I am guessing the boy is going to face an inquiry. Missions like that shit he tried to pull can result in death. And Novac here is the one who is supposed to deliver him back into the hands of the people trying to kill him.”

Novac again fell silent, respectfully listening to Julien and accepting his criticism as if it was a well deserved backlash.

The silence only fueled the fire now burning in Julien, who responded with a raised voice as more anger and resentment burned within, “He knows it is true, just look at the way he is silently sitting there. He works for them. Those sleazy bastards who sent us to kill Damon in the first place have him wrapped around their little finger. He has been working for them for years. You were the one who let them know about that mission that failed, didn’t you?” Julien seemed to gain a second wind, turning to accuse Novac of the unspeakable thought burning in all their minds since word broke out about a Kuro infilitration.

“Enough,” the words were cold and authoriative, carrying the crushing weight of commanded silence with them. Novac looked to Anna for a moment before turning to Dimitri, who all the while silently sat watching them. They seemed to share a silent moment of mutual understanding before Novac turned towards Julien, a look of disappointment in his eyes. Without another word, he stood while feeling the stares of others upon at the scene Julien had created. Trying to maintain his broken sense of command, he turned from the table and walked out of the diner, the bell dinging at his departure.

The eyes continued to stare though as if expecting more from this unusual group of travelers. Julien looked to Anna’s empty place before him, “did you want something to eat?” he asked, trying to break the uncomfortable feeling brewing in the atmosphere.

12

“I do not eat.” Anna said plainly. Previously, she had appeared as if about to rest her head on the table, like the tired child she appeared to be. With Julien’s question, she snapped to attention and began looking suspiciously about the room. There was a hint, for a moment, that the illusion was fading, that whatever dead and ancient power animated her limbs was free for a moment of its delusions. Dimitri was visibly uneasy, putting down his coffee and watching her intently, but the moment passed. Anna put a hand up in a universal gesture without a universal meaning, that of a diner patron refusing a drink refill, or of a choking person expressing an inability to speak, or perhaps a witness at court asking another minute to testify. “But if you think I should, offer. Do not ask.”

“If I may…ask, though…” Anna added, in a hesitant tone, “Who sent you to kill Damon? And why? And if Novac is working for them, why did he not kill Damon already?”

13

Julien watched the diner door for a moment, expecting to see Novac reappear. But when he did not, he hunched back over his cup of coffee and embraced the dying steam, feeling a cold shiver re-emerge as Anna’s facade momentarily dropped. He looked up to Anna hesitantly, half expecting to see some hideous beast, but was relieved to see the small child sitting there peacefully like a true Mahanionian with her black gloved hands and black attire. In that position, he remarked at the similiarities she had with Genocide, save the hair and eye color. She could probably pass for a Mahanionian, and perhaps that is what Damon saw in her.

Sipping the coffee, he contemplated Anna’s question, while shifting his gaze to the door. How could he explain this to her?

Sighing, he took a bite of his bacon, before looking back to Anna. He hung his head again, huddling over the cup of coffee, “I was contracted through Aria, Damon’s mother, to join the hit team and protect Damon. She is a powerful woman within Mahanoy, but few people realize this. She has access to the top circles and probably knows the most about the workings of the shadow government. I do not know who specifically ordered the hit, but it came from deep within the dark circles of Mahanoy. In our group, Quentin probably knew the most about who ordered the hit, but …” Julien momentarily fell silent as he stirred a fresh cup of coffee and looked to Dimitri for moral support.

After a brief moment of silence, Julien again spoke, "Damon is…well…it is hard not to look into that boy and see the former power of The Elite Empire when under Dante. The boy is practically a chip off the old block himself. Mahanoy loves thar boy, but what he represents scares the people in power. The lack of control they have over him makes him dangerous in their eyes. Eliminating him before he rises to a leadership position seems to make the most sense to them. It’s why they ordered the hit…because if he were to be killed now with the chaos he created, no one would suspect foul play from within their own government.

“Novac on the other hand…he is the most dangerous man I know. Few realize the political power and physical prowress he has. He masks himself behind a tightly controlled exterior. He is the most respected man I know but he is incredibly dangerous. I do not know why he has not killed Damon yet. He does work for the shadow government though. He was the one responsible for kidnapping Genocide after her exposure a few years back. The only reason I can imagine that he has not killed Damon yet is because it would attract too much attention towards him. You just witnessed it…Novac does not like attention being drawn towards him.”

Again clutching the steaming cup, Julien looked uncomfortably towards Anna, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

14

Anna sat back and thought about the question for a moment. It didn’t line up. Damon’s alibi didn’t line up either, of course. That was a matter of course. And given her own situation, anyone whose story did make sense probably couldn’t be trusted. But the fact remained that the story didn’t line up.

Finally, she gave voice to her concern. “After the fight in Shiro…Damon was on the brink of death. I could feel it. Any of a thousand little things would have pushed him over the edge. Novac came to visit him then, sent everyone out and went in to him alone. I am sure that an Elite would have many ways to end his life without raising any suspicion. Either chemical methods or just…pushing him a little further toward the edge.” She half-smiled, remembering a similar conversation. “If Novac had wanted him dead then, wouldn’t he be dead?”

15

Uncomfortably twisting at the mention of Elite weaponary, Julien leaned forward to look more closely at Anna. How this child knew about Elite weaponary was beyond him…even if Damon was truly an Elite, he would not have shared much of this information to anyone. Did Anna know something she was not letting on? Or was this a childs bluff, trying to gauge him for more information?

“Novac is a powerful man, but I doubt even he has access to certain Elite weaponary. It takes being a true Elite to gain access to those stores. I only know the Diehl’s are the most significant funding source for Elite weaponary because of my own loyalty to the family. Killing their child with the weapons they financed the manufacturing of would surely raise someone’s suspicion. Aria would never allow her child to die without determining the actual cause of death. Novac would have to be foolish to try to kill Damon with any array of Elite weaponary…assuming he even had the ability to obtain them.”

Falling wordless, he watched Anna’s smile, a small childlike motion that seemed to suggest she knew something he did…like a child who lies but innocently plays the part of a sweet angel. “Unless you know something… What do you know about Novac anyways?”

16

“Just the ordinary.” Anna said casually. "Novac is in charge of Kuro, so they must have had contact there. As she talked, she became became preoccupied with a large beetle walking on the wall. Whenever it moved, her eyes darted off at it. It was somehow familiar behavior, but Julien couldn’t put a finger on it. “I’d heard Prospero - that’s one of Damon’s team members - say that Damon was always getting into serious trouble there. It sounded like he was in trouble when Novac…” The beetle stepped off the wall and off the table, momentarily drawing Anna’s attention again. “Sorry, when Novac and Damon’s mother…that’d be Aria, right?..came to visit him. Maybe she kept him in line, I don’t know.”

Anna suddenly, casually snatched up the beetle and ate it. “But it didn’t seem like it.”

17

Julien twitched in simultaneous horror and shock. Anna’s casual response revealing that Novac and Aria were together visiting Damon was about as deeply disturbing as her crunchy snack. For a moment, he sat too mortified to respond while staring awkwardly at Anna with a look of disgust.

Cringing, Julien shook his head vigorously in a ditch effort attempt to erase what he had just witnessed. When he became aware of the futility of his attempts, he shuddered as he looked to the frightening child before him. All he could see was a stalking predator lurking for its next kill, but curosity bested him and he succumbed to the inquiries of his mind.

“They were together?” Julien again asked, to which Anna responded with a simple nod alittle too cheerful after the fact that she was still picking beetle legs from her teeth.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, grossly misunderstanding the situation. Anna’s news hit hard. If Aria and Novac were in communication… Could he be an Elite? Novac’s phone sat on the table, left behind, the faceplate again glowing, identifying a caller as Aeruagina, Sector 5137, Mahanoy.

With a shaking pale hand, Julien reached out and pulled the small black object towards him. He stared at it for a moment before answering it, “Aria…” he spoke in disbelief, “is it true? … It’s Kolt. Is it true my lady? Novac…is he an Elite?”

Paling further, he listened intently before placing the phone back down. “Anna…I…think you may be right. Novac, he might be on our side after all. That means…we need to find him, now.”

Stuffing the phone into the hooded sweatshirt’s pocket, he slid out of the booth. He resisted the shudder as he reached forward and grabbed Anna’s gloved hand, pulling her from the booth.

“We need to find him before it is too late. He knows where Damon is.”

Rushing outside while dragging Anna behind, Julien looked down the street for any sign of Novac. Unexpectedly, Novac was standing but twenty feet away with an elderly woman clutching him, holding him as a mother embraces a long lost son.

“Where have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you. You told me you were going to buy more milk. That was six years and ten days ago!”

Novac silently stood, respectfully remaining silent.

And as quickly as the woman was embracing Novac, she was grasping for his ear with a fragile grasp and dragging him down the street. Baffled, Julien watched the renowned Mahanionian General surrender to this frail elderly woman. He did little to resist, in fact, he seemed to assist her more as she struggled to maintain her balance over the uneven payment.

Julien only turned to look at Anna, “now what?”

18

“Um.” Anna stared at the strange scene. The old woman was telling Novac about how he would finally clean out his room and finish those peas he left cold all those years ago. The Mahanonian general seemed unsure how to react, following along as if in acceptance of his fate. “Okay.” Anna turned to Julien. “Follow my lead.”

“Hey!” Anna hovered in the air in front of the woman, waving her arms. “You’re making a big mistake!” The woman stopped in her tracks, cuffing Novac on the ear in the process. “So, y’see…” The Kandarinese girl began. “That’s not really your son.”

“Are you a good fairy or a bad fairy?” The old woman asked without a beat.

“Eschatological, but that’s not the point. The point is that that’s not your son!”

“Nonsense.” The frail woman clutched Novac, cuffing him about the ear again in the process. “He’s the spitting image!”

“Yes…yes, you see, that’s exactly the point! He’s part of a top-secret project by the enemies of the people to infiltrate this nation. I blame the Packilvanians. And the Kandarinese. He and others like him were surgically modified to resemble people like your son, and psychologically conditioned not to know the difference. When the time strikes, they’ll rise up and hand over the government to the foreigners and complete the wicked plot. But that’s not the point. The point is that your son isn’t here. He escaped from the foreigners’ secret labs years ago. After disguising himself as a guard, he set out across open country, battling monsters and brigands as he did so, until he came to a small town with a dark secret, where he spent a single night that was as twenty years. Still shaken by the haunting secrets of the villagers, he bested them all in mental combat and fled. Upon returning to civilization, he took up a crippling gambling habit, losing it all and falling into destitution. After spending his last money on a phone call home that misdialed and gave him the time and temperature, he was taken in by a bunch of insane Violetist cultists, who tried to induct him into their annual hobo-sacrifice rituals. Escaping by rail, he came to a new city where he found love, fortune and hope, but then he lost it all in a series of freak accidents and eventually just became a streetcar operator in Stuttgart.”

The old woman stood transfixed. She pointed a finger at Anna in shock. “You’re full of bullshit.”

“I won’t argue with that. Now!” As the old woman’s grip was lost in the gesture, Julien swooped in and pulled Novac away. She shrugged and walked off, as if the entire incident had never happened.

19

After running while pulling Novac behind him, Julien and Anna slowed down to catch their breaths in a less crowded streetway. Hunched over to catch his breaths, Julien stopped and inhaled deeply. Of the three, Julien seemed to have exerted the most energy as Anna appeared as if she had not run at all while Novac seemed to just be “warming up.”

Recalling Anna’s bizarre story, her floating image, and the beetle eating, Julien looked up to her and shook his head, “What the fuck was that Anna? … You are one disturbing child,” he spoke while exhaling sharply.

Where she had come from was an unsettling thought.

In the moment of staring, Julien momentarily forgot that Novac was with them. Quickly turned, he wheeled around to find Novac staring down the street, looking for something that appeared to be lost in the ebb and flow of pedastrians.

“Alexander, where is your friend?” he asked, his voice curious and simultaneously concerned.

20

Persephone watched Damon almost like a child would watch an ant through a magnifying glass, just waiting to catch the sunlight at the right angle. “I see.” she spoke quietly in reply as Damon seemed to drift off from reality. “Which brings me to my dear sister.”

Persephone seemed to smile and turn to look at Elysia mechanically. “So. You disappear from school and drag home some nearly-dead-foreign-diplomat who has barely survived an assassination attempt?”

Elysia squirmed uncomfortably simply in her sisters presence, her terror at this point was almost palpable. “It’s not like that Persephone-”

“Then what the hell is it like Elysia?” Persephone continued to smile pleasantly. “Do you have any idea where Mr Diehl is from? Do you have any idea what the fuck you might have dragged the Coalition into?”

“I couldn’t let him die!” tears begun to form in Elysia’s eyes and she attempted to swipe them away.

“You brought the kind of shit we don’t want to be involved with right into our home Elysia. Have you seen the reports on The Empire?!” Persephone broke facade and grabbed Elysia, lifting her off of the bench and onto her feet. “I have. And I am terrified of who and what Mr Diehl is.”

Elysia could barely stand even with her sister holding her upright, tears cascaded down her cheeks as she attempted to prevent herself from sobbing. “I’m so… Sorry.”

“I don’t care if you’re sorry Elysia. If this goes wrong then I swear I’ll…” Persephone stopped and loosened her grip on Elysia. “… Just, don’t go running off or anything stupid like that.”

Elysia fell back onto the bench in silence.

“Lucius Keres sends his regards and hopes you’re well.” Persephone looked away from the pair. “You know how to contact me if you need anything. If I’m not available don’t be afraid to leave a message, it’ll find it’s way to me.” She bit her lip in thought for a moment before heading towards the door to the hospital, her guards filtering through the doorway before her.

The solitary nurse stood at the doorway looking down at her hands as she fiddled nervously with the zip on her coat. “Maybe we should go back inside?”

OOC: Italics in this post represent the language Lycian.