Scrambled Eggs (Gear)

[Hitura Rael]

October 13

"... using this equation we can plot..."

"... And with our plot points down we can now..."

"...But what if we change this variable? ..."

"... Who would like to come up to the white board to demonstrate?"

Raldon drifted in and out of paying attention. The lecture was dry and dull, like most of school. And despite his best efforts his grades left much to be desired. He had given up, on this, of course. There wasn't much reason to try to bring his tanked grades up when he didn't understand the foundations of what they were doing now. And when would he ever need to... draw lines on a graph? He squinted, yes. That was the lesson today. Drawing lines on a graph. And yet, despite his abandonment of his education, the prospect of being called to the board still filled him with stomach churning dread.

His eyes darted to the clock upon the wall, disappointed to find another twenty minutes stuck in this hellish lecture before lunch. He had to stay awake... or...

"Raldon,"

He jumped and froze, back rigid and straight. "Y-yes sir?"

"Why don't you come up here and solve this next problem?" A viscous smirk crossed the teacher's lips, the grin of a predator who had cornered their prey.

Raldon swallowed hard and stood slowly, practically dragging his feet as he shuffled to the front. Most would not wish to be tripped on their way up to the front of the class. Boy did he wish someone would trip him up. Any excuse to get out of embarrassing himself more! Alas, there was none that the teacher would believe. He was sure his face was darker in color from blushing, though he couldn't feel it. With a heavy hand and grim expression, he took the marker and stared at the board for several minutes, rigid and tense. Alas, he had to concede, he had no idea where to even start on this problem. His shoulders slumped and arm raised to hold the butt of the marker out to the teacher.

"That's what I thought," the teacher grinned, "Go sit down. We'll have to have a talk after class."

Raldon trudged back to his seat, fighting the urge to tense his jaw the whole way. A symphony of snickers and giggles accompanied his walk of shame until he dropped his whole weight on the seat, folded his arms, and laid his head in the nook. The blushing would fade eventually right?

The lecture continued until the blissful release of the ringing bell. He stood and slung his bag over his shoulder to rush out of the room before he could be held back by the teacher. It was easy enough to tune out the teachers calls. Rather than head for the lunch room, he went outside and dropped down below a tree, head back against the bark to relax. He exhaled a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

 

[Nemesis]

Another beautiful day beneath the clear blue skies, accompanied by the distant sounds of the ocean. Who could fault the young man for seeking relaxation in this paradise? Every day was peaceful. There were no wars, no famines. The people spent their days in security, stability, and certainty, knowing that tomorrow would always come, and it would always be much the same as yesterday.

A life of low expectations. His parents had promised him that he would know soon what his place in the world was. Why they had raised him how they did, held the values they did.

It was his 17th birthday, and it must have felt like not a soul remembered.

---

???

A soft, dark room. Creams and blacks, intertwining in reels of fabric that covered the wall. A dim, gray light, like lanterns, faintly illuminated the room. Unfamiliar material was underfoot, and there was the distinct scent of dust and old velvet. Was it a dream? If it was... It was extremely vivid. Time seemed to pass slowly, letting his eyes get adjusted to the gloom. Not far from him, where he was seated in a simple wooden chair, was a modest stage draped with faded fineries... and a piano, jet black.

Someone was playing.

A slow, methodical sound. Rich and striking to the ear, as if the instrumentalist on the other end were plucking at the strings of his heart. A stinging at the corner of the eyes, a lump in the throat. As though it were conveying the deepest, bitterest of sorrow with every touch of the key. Clair De Lune, one of the most stirring and beautiful pieces ever conceived... playing, as if all for him.

A private performance, just for the two of them.

Her fingers moved across the keys, but her eyes did not meet his until the last, poignant note dropped into place. Her ancestry, her heritage was difficult to trace from her slender frame, from her features, those almond eyes that looked into his own.



"Happy Birthday... Olin." Said the pianist, quietly.

 

[Hitura Rael]

The soft notes stirred Raldon to open his eyes. Confusion crossed his face momentarily, finding himself in... what? An old theater? He did not waste time looking through the gloom and must of this place. He had seen similar setups in movies and comics, though they were vibrant and full of people. His focus fell upon the piano and...

Who is she?

He slipped off the chair to lower himself to the ground. He folded his legs, leaned forward, and supported his upper half with his elbows. He closed his eyes, letting the soft sounds of the song wash over him. The girl was good, good enough to be a professional. Such a sad melody. He could not feel the prickle of tears, nor the cool trails they left down his cheeks, but he didn't need those to know the emotions being conveyed by the pianist. The pressure mounting in his throat, the heaviness of his heart; this was a deeply sorrowful song.

The song came to an end all too soon. He raised his head and opened his eyes, meeting hers for the first time. She was pretty, her hair a stark contrast to her pale skin. He'd only seen skin that pale in books before. Everyone on the islands had some form of tanned or darker skin.

"Happy Birthday... Olin."

Raldon blushed, the coloration a darkening of his dark skin. Thankfully, it would likely go unnoticed. He stood with a warm smile on his face, "Thank you, miss." Dream or kidnapped as a prank or birthday gift- he was not one to forego politeness, especially when the gift she had given him was so beautiful, a bearing of her soul. Any gifts to come would fall far short of what she had given him today. If this was a dream, he wanted to remember it always. Even if she did get his name wrong.

 

[Nemesis]

"Soon, everything will change."

Her fingers moved across the keys once more, as she closed her eyes. The keys plucked out a melody, neither here nor there, stirring in its simplicity, as it echoed through the room, like droplets casting waves across infinity.

"Pain. Sadness. Grief. Suffering... Love. Hope. Compassion. Wisdom..." She said, quietly;

"This is not a song that can be written. It is sung from the heart. Wrought from youth's blood... flesh... and tears. The Tuning."

Here, her playing came to a halt, as though her fingers wearied of retracing their steps. As though they had walked that same path across the keys many, many times before. Instead, she steepled her fingers before her, elbows on the lip of the piano, looking off into space.

"It will be our song." Said the pianist, as she rose from her seat.

She couldn't have been a day older than himself. That was likely what his mind would have told him as she drew near. Her fingers went out, touching the side of his face. They were surprisingly cold to the touch, warming with contact to his cheek as they touched his hair, just behind the ear. Her expression remained much the same, even in the dull light as it faintly illuminated her features.

"...and the price will be our innocence."

 

[Hitura Rael]

As the girl spoke, Raldon's smile began to slip. A casual effort at best, that one would wear when being given criticism or news that you were expected to be happy about but were in fact, not. Perhaps, even fitting one bearing through a gift that was not quite liked but not wanting to offend the gifter. Every word she whispered, punctuated by random notes plucked from the piano sent a shiver down his spine. He did not feel them as others did, 'cold' chills, rather he felt the instinctive twitching of the muscles that caused the sensation. That instinctive itch of danger and caution.

Raldon fought instinct to stand still as the Pianist drew near. She was just a tiny girl, after all. And if it was a dream, dreams couldn't hurt you. If not... Well. She looked pretty easy to throw. Her clothing made it very to use the 'bum's rush' if necessary. Yes, he could get a decent distance if he put enough strength behind it, then run. He could outrun her- he could outrun anyone.

And yet, despite his own mental reassurances, he flinched as she touched his face. Not because of the cold of her hands, he could not feel that, but because of the touch itself. Something about the way she talked and moved, the lack of any apparent boundaries this girl had, and the foreboding words she spoke. He wanted to pull away, to run, maybe give her a good toss then run, but that was just far too rude.

He gently raised a hand, laid it over hers, and curled his fingers to gently, but firmly grip her. It was like holding a baby bird in his hand. She felt so tiny and fragile compared to his larger build, yet if he was not firm enough she would inevitibly get out of his grip. He lifted her hand from his face and gently held it in front of him, closer to her. A clear sign he did not want to be touched. Yet he did not let go, for fear of her denying his boundaries.

So many questions, all related to that creepy foreboding spiel. And yet he could only muster one floating at the top of his mind. "Who are you?"

 

[Nemesis]

"I have been known by many names."

The pianist didn't react as Raldon rose, and held her hand. It was terribly cold - not that he could tell, much like the rest of her. Instead, her features softened slightly, closing her eyes. Gently, she pulled his hand forward, letting it touch her body.

"But most often... The Innocent."

She guided it down to her chest... and he might have noticed something odd. No heartbeat pulsed beneath his fingertips. The flesh beneath was still... and silent to the touch. It was only then that she released him, putting her arms behind her back coyly, as though she had revealed an embarrassing secret.

"...It's painful, isn't it? When things are demanded of us. Things... that rob of us of what we can never replace. That we never had a choice in." She said - not solemnly, not wistfully, only the smallest touch of emotion in her voice as she spoke.

"It doesn't..." She whispered, leaning in close to his face slowly. She smelled faintly of flowers... but not ones he would have been familiar with. A somber bouquet that dulled the senses. Her lips drew close to his, as if... longingly, seeking more of his warmth.

"Have to be that way..."

There was the sense of movement, and a presence.

She opened her eyes.

He was gone.

---

Present day

THWAP!

Something plastic-y smacked into Raldon's forehead, likely jolting him from his slumber.

A small cluster of leaves had fallen about his shoulders from the tree above, and the morning light had faded into that of the afternoon. Close inspection of the object that had assaulted him would reveal... test notes, written in beautiful, cursive handwriting.



"See? I told you he was slacking off." Said a familiar voice.

Fantasha Serekali and Elenoa Tamure - or, Tasha and Elen, they were commonly known to the rest of his classmates. It had seemed as if they had never been far from him since he'd entered school, introduced to him by his parents. One sporty, the other brainy, they could always be counted on to have his back no matter the situation.



"Ral~doooon~!"

...whenever they weren't bickering over him. The pair trotted up to him, Elen dropping to her knees to examine his head, just in case her companion had managed to bruise it.

"Do you know how long it's been?" She asked, in characterstic soft, but insistent tones.

"Mr. Kumar's really gonna let you have it!"

Tasha's hands materialized, shunting Elen out of the way and jabbing a thumb triumphantly over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, like the cat that had caught the canary.

"Yeah. That's why you should come ditch with us."

"Yeah, th-HEY! I didn't agree to that!"

Tasha reached out and tousled the shorter girl's long hair, who only fumed further. There was no better tutor on the whole island than Elen... so long as you stayed on her good side. Not that this apparently stopped her companion from pushing her buttons, grinning at her as she wagged a finger.

"Because you're boring." She said, matter of factly, "And short. That's why you don't have a boyfriend either!"

"I-I-I'm not THAT short! You're just super tall! And it's not like you can talk-"

The two descended into an argument of almost cartoonish exaggeration and braggadocio right before his eyes. And yet...

It seemed as if the world was trying very, very hard to distract him from what had just unfolded. It had been a dream...

Right?

---

Meanwhile...

In the silence, the Innocent regarded the two figures that had interposed themselves between her and the Olin. More ornate, she thought, than the regular ones. She'd been correct in her assumption that the Mu weren't foolish enough to leave their golden goose unattended. A very small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"I see." She sighed. Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides, as if still hungry for the warmth of the boy's skin.

"A few moments more... and I would have alleviated the unfair burden you have shouldered him with."



The two Dolem spirits regarded her in characteristic, unmoving silence. Yet in a moment that silence could become a torrent of sound that would have brought this space crashing down about her ears. Her eyes slid from one to the other, as if weighing her options... and gave a noncommittal shrug, as if it were all nothing but a flight of fancy.

But the leer in her eyes said something entirely different as she glared at them, muted as it was, like a fox looking at a henhouse's guard dogs from behind the safety of a mesh fence.

"What a terrible mother you are."

 

[Hitura Rael]

Raldon stared at her wide eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. The moment she tried to pull his hand toward her, he instinctively tried to let go, and yet she twisted her hand to clasp on to him like a vice grip, or particularly stubborn mud crab he had once saved from a cook pot. His hand inched closer to her, his brain struggling to run through various thoughts.

Only inches away from the woman's chest, he gently pulled back. Upon feeling the resistence of her grip, he pulled slightly harder, until he was eventually pulling with nearly all of his unbound strength, more likely to hurt himself and her if he continued. And yet he could barely stop her from moving, let alone pull away. He did the only thing he could do then. He stopped resisting.

The distraction of touching a girl's chest was what boys dreamed of, though usually their hands were lower down. He was familiary with touching this portion at least, the flat expanse just above the soft flesh, the holy grail of boyhood. Often he found himself jealous of others for being normal, feeling the warmth of another person. His hand recoiled after scant seconds being placed over her heart, and in his brain's rebooting it took a moment to register exactly why. His face cycled through confusion, realization, and steeled determination. He pulled his hand back as if he had placed it into a fire or on a burning surface.

Dream or no, this girl managed to scare him. He steeled a neutral expression on his face and watched her, like a donkey in a pen watching a wolf. He had underestimated her for sure, this... 'Innocent'. Such an odd name.

"...It's painful, isn't it? When things are demanded of us. Things... that rob of us of what we can never replace. That we never had a choice in."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. School isn't THAT bad." He flinched back when she leaned in, catching the whiff of her flowery scent. He nearly tripped over the chair in his retreat, though she kept presssing forward.

"It doesn't... Have to be that way..."

He had no desire on heaven, earth, or hell to kiss that thing. He grabbed the chair behind him, ready to defend himself-

---

THWAP!

Impact and the texture of plastic slapped his face from above. Raldon jolted up, back pressed hard to the tree. He scanned the area in a frantic panic, eyes wild. If his body could sweat, it sure would be covered from that nightmare. Thank whatever deities were out there... it was just a nightmare. At last, he relaxed and calmed himself enough to breathe. His hands scrubbed at his face a little too hard. He stopped when Elen knelt in front of him. Sheepishly, he looked up and planted his hands beside him to stabilize himself.

"Sorry- I... Didn't mean to doze off." His face had a tint of red, though from friction or blushing who knew. "How long was I out?" How long had he been trapped in that dream turned terror? Raldon smiled once both girls were in front of him. How comforting it was to see them both. Without warning, he leaned forward, flung his arms around them, and hugged them tight, perhaps a little too tight in his relief. "Thanks guys."

He let the pair go after a brief moment, then leaned back against the tree, frowning at the bruise on the back of his hand. How had he gotten that? It couldn't have been... He quickly moved his hand behind his back to hide it from the girls. There were only two ways to answer the question- and one of them they'd poke fun at him for MONTHS if he spoke of it.

"Neither of you have a boyfriend." He reminded Tasha, "Because you both hang out with me too much to go find one. I think skipping is a good idea." That was so very unlike him, but he needed to clear his mind, and focusing on school was going to be impossible. It wasn't like his grades could get worse.[/hr][/hr]

 

[Nemesis]

"Al-right!"

Tasha pumped her fist in the air excitedly at Raldon's decision. Both returned his embrace happily, even giving him a little squeeze back, the softness of their bodies a pleasant contrast to what he had just experienced. Noticing Elen's pained expression, Tasha reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving a friendly wink.

"Don't worry about it, I'll get my Dad to call in sick for us..."

The man in question, Raldon might have recalled, Mr. Serekali, was a dour faced official of the city who seemed as immovable and involate as a steel wall - yet he had a soft spot for his daughter, the only woman left in his life, and seemed all too happy to enable her proclivities... if only to see her smile. Elen's parents as well, like his own, were also involved in the business of governing the island, and had been for many generations, the knowhow and traditions being passed down from generation to generation - but they seemed not to talk about their home lives often.

Nor for that matter were there any traces of the usual stressors that would affect a diverse student populace. No broken families. No drug use. No teenage pregnancies.

None of the reminders that the world was neither fair, nor perfect, dared to intrude upon this place of peace.

Perhaps he would have been reminded of this as they cycled to the beach. Much of the old traces of poverty that afflicted the island had been cleared away, as though it were nothing but a bad dream - even the tourists that had once visited the resorts had ceased visiting at some point in the past, leaving the beautiful buildings to be cheerfully maintained and operated for local use. All of this, thanks to the new local government that kept taxes low, crime nonexistent, and the people free to enjoy their lives as they saw fit... within certain firm, but fair boundaries.



His mother had talked to him about it, on occasion. The importance of government, of wise leadership, of tradition and veneration of the old ways, of the arts, the beauty and sanctity of their way of life. Perhaps, as he passed the shimmering sunset, the way it glistened on the waves, he would have been reminded of that.

En route, the trio slowed at Tasha's insistence, pausing at a small ice cream stand set in the roadside.

"Raldon, what would you like?" Said the short haired girl as she passed a cone with two towering scoops of strawberry to Elen, who raised an eyebrow at her friend's generosity.

"Your treat?"

"It's his birthday, you know that."

"..."

At this, Elen lapsed into a curious silence, her gaze falling to the floor as she picked at the colorful toppings on her ice-cream.

"Yeah." She said, finally. She shook off the melancholy before continuing:

"By the way, is there supposed to be some kind of party? I haven't heard."

"There was supposed to be one tonight, but it got moved to tomorrow. I guess they were worried about the weather." Explained Tasha as she fished into her wallet, rummaging about and finding little. With a sigh, Elen handed over a few bills - but neither elaborated further, nor gave a skeptical glance at the clear skies overhead.

"Did your Mom say anything, Raldon?"

 

[Hitura Rael]

Raldon gave a soft chuckle at Tasha's reaction. He had never given in to her suggestions of slacking off like this before, but today it felt right. He reached out to give Tasha a gentle head pat to comfort her. It's not like her grades would suffer. She was the smartest in class and rarely, if ever was out sick. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall the last time she WAS out sick.

The ride down to the beach helped to clear his mind of the lingering fog and dread from his lunch time nap. The wind in his hair, the fresh salty scent of the water, the light of the sun... It was enough to wash away most anything. His mind only briefly drifted to his mother and her lectures. Particularly long enough to have a shiver of dread run up his spine once she learned he skipped out on school and encouraged the girls to do so as well. No doubt, Elen's parents at least would blame him over Tasha. He was the one with the bad grades, after all.

He stretched after the long ride, letting the girls tend to the ice cream. He glanced to Tasha mid stretch with one eye, "Mmmm.... I'm fine." He exhaled a long sigh when he released his hands from above his head. Cold treats were a rarity for him to eat, surprisingly, because he did not like it. It made a mess when in a cone and it was often too sweet. As he walked to the pair he slipped his wallet out and fished out the cost of the two cones from it. When Tasha wasn't paying attention, he slipped it into her back pocket as stealthily as he could. He was a big guy and not very stealthy when walking, but the careful and slow nature he had adopted made planting things in people's pockets a tad easier.

He feigned a surprised face when they brought up his birthday. "Is it?" he shrugged with a small smile. "Weather," he shook his head, "Busy organizers." He shrugged again "I heard nothing. Guess it was a surprise. Or to spare feelings when everyone's too busy." He draped an arm around each girl with a bright grin, "Don't need a party, I have you two."

 

[Nemesis]

The two were surprised as Raldon paid the bill, giving a laugh as he swept them up in his arms. They walked across the street with him, skipping down the concrete steps towards the waiting, picturesque beach. Tasha ran ahead, laughing, while Elen linged beside Raldon, seemingly deep in thought. The sun glowed invitingly in the sky, and the perfect zephyr tickled their skin, a mix of warmth and cool that was just the right amount of comfort.

"Hey, Raldon..." Said Elen, eventually.

"Can we... always be friends? No matter what?"

It was a strange question, and worded even stranger than her usual speech. She bit her lip, as if she'd said something she wasn't supposed to, and lifted a pinky towards him. The most infantile, and yet sacred of promises. Yet, before he could muster a response.

"Oh. My. God."​

A voice, a young man's - svelte, with an accent that was... difficult to place, lodged itself into the conversation like a thrown axe hurled between the two of them.

There was the sound of crunching sand.. and a figure appeared to Raldon's right. Where had he come from? He was terribly overdressed for the beach and seemed fully aware of it, looking with scorn at the grains of sand upon his loafers before continuing, clasping his hands together in a mocking plea. There was a drawl of sacrasm in his tone... and smug, condescending superiority.



"I hate to interrupt but: This is just... so sweet... I threw up a little in my mouth."

"Gavriel...!"

The color had drained completely from Elen's features as she gasped, hands coming up to her mouth. Her eyes darted between the newcomer and Raldon - but it was Tasha who intervened, moving between Raldon and Gavriel. There was a snarl on her features, an expression of pure hatred that Raldon had never seen before, the kind that curled her lips back across her teeth, as though a wolf were bearing its fangs.

"How DARE you-" She spat - but Gavriel interrupted, opening his arms to her with a winning smile.

"Long time no see, Fantasha. And... ugh." - His features scrunched up in disgust.

"The dyke haircut really doesn't suit you. Oh, wait... Was that because of me? I'm touched. Don't answer that."

Tasha's whole body trembled with fury - but she made no move as he stepped around her, to address Raldon directly under the beautiful sun overhead. He extended a hand for a handshake.

"How you doin there, slugger?" He said.

"First day on the job?"

 

[Hitura Rael]

Contentment. After a long day's struggle, the little things made it all worth it. Bathed in the sun's warmth, surrounded by good friends. Though, these two did act so odd today. He watched Tasha for a moment, then turned his head just enough to glance down upon Elen.

"Hey, Raldon? Can we... Always be friends? No matter what?"

His brow furrowed, confusion written across his face. Why was she suddenly asking this? And yet, strange as the question was, it distressed her so. He nodded and gave her a soft, reassuring smile. He had almost lifted his hand to swear that pinky promise when they were interrupted by one who clearly could not read a room.

"Oh. My. God."

His smile faded, his head slowly turned to take in the sight of the new comer. He didn't recognize this boy, for surely he was not a man. The image of a peacock came to mind, so bright and flashy, not dressed for his own environment. Indeed, the boy's dressage was quite like a peacock's brilliant plumage that slowed it's flight and dragged it to earth.

Raldon's neutral expression remained, despite the diatribe this... Gavriel spewed. Even when he boasted causing Elen's hair cut. He stepped forward to put the girl behind him, giving her an affectionate and calming pat on the head with the prayer she would not chastise him for treating her like an angry puppy later. But that look was quite concerning. The boy must have caused her a great deal of distress to garner that reaction.

Raldon canted his head slightly as the boy stepped up to him. It may seem a curious expression, but he was sizing the boy up. Raldon smiled and took the boy's hand in his, then reached out to give his shoulder a heavy pat. But it was all a ruse, designed to lure the little peacock into a false sense of security. Without warning, Raldon's grip tightened, one that the boy would find quite difficult to escape without injury. At the same time, the hand on Gavriel's shoulder clasped hard. He yanked, pulling the boy the final few steps toward him, then gripped the back of the boys collar, turned him to face his back to Raldon, released his hand, and quickly grabbed the back of the boy's waist line.

Lifting him by pants and back of his shirt was not difficult. Weight was more of a suggestion when one could not feel the pained resistance of muscle, and Raldon was built like a looming black bear. And struggle as he might, the little peacock was caught in the bear's jaws, hauled toward the water's edge, then given the bum's rush straight into the ocean.

Free of his flashy burden, he turned to Elen and Tasha, "I took out the trash."

 

[Nemesis]

The smirk from the young man's face dropped immediately the second Raldon put his hands on him. It was as if he had never been touched in such a fashion, and in a moment he was lifted shouting from the earth, and hurled bodily into the water, where he disappeared from view momentarily with a satisfying plunk. Elen watched this happen with an expression of pure, unmitigated horror, hands over her mouth even with Raldon's heroic declaration. A few moments ticked by before he rose, soddenly, to his feet, glaring at Raldon, as a hand moved across his face.

"You... piece of fucking-" He hissed under his breath - but it was the reactions of his peers that was of more immediate notice.

Behind Raldon, Tasha's face had turned blue. Her hands were clamped about her throat as she crumpled to her knees. Her silence, it seemed, had been more than mere words. Elen surged forward past Raldon towards the newcomer, feet pounding the sand as hard as they could.

"Stop it, Gavriel!" She pleaded, desperately.

"Leave them alone! He doesn't know anything!"

Gavriel reached up... and as if were magic, cast a hand across his body. The water that had logged it was wrung away in an instant, flicking away at the end of his fingertips. It was like a magic trick, almost... but his expression remained sour, and he rounded on Elen next, practically spitting his words in contempt.

"Tradition. Culture. That's what you love to bleat about, isn't it? But where was my invitation to the festivities, eh?"

Suddenly, Elen too dropped to the sand below - but with her head bowed, so low it kissed the earth. It was a pose of supplication, one used in the great traditions of the island. Gavriel's forehead creased, uncertainly.

"I beg you...

Please... Olin."​

There was a moment of silence... and then, a ragged gasp as Tasha inhaled once more. The short-haired girl coughed and hacked, rolling onto her back as air - beautiful, full of life - rushed back into her lungs. Gavriel smirked approvingly, eyes narrowing into slits as he walked past Elen, who remained as she was, eyes shut tight.

"...that's more like it." He said, now turning his attention back to Raldon.

The contrast between the two couldn't have been more direct. One was large and brusque, simple in mind and heart... and the other, much as described, a veritable peacock, small in stature, but prim and elegant.

"You got balls... For a cripple." Said Gavriel, rubbing the last errant drop from his hair.

"But hey. I didn't come here to fight. Just... to do my part. Pass the torch. Give a little... advice to my "successor". Third time's the charm, right?"

 

[Hitura Rael]

Raldon gave Tasha and Elen a puzzled look at their horror. And it was at that moment he knew, he fucked up. This little peacock likely had a tiger to back it up and he was gonna be in deep shit. Oh well. He ignored the little lord as he emerged from the water, though if he had stayed under any longer Raldon would have broken the rules to go in after him. He stayed planted where he was, a barrier between Gavriel and the girls.

Yet, it seemed that even acting as a barrier, he could not protect them. His face remained a neutral mask, a learned defense mechanism through many chastisements and fights before this. He followed Elen's trail, burying the panic deep down. She was the calmer mind, better equipped to handle it. He had tried and now his friends were in danger. Another tick on the long board of screw ups that was his life.

Physical pain, he knew nothing of. But emotional pain... well. That was keenly felt. Wounds of the soul, as it were, and no physical reflection to make bearing them easier. And then there was that word. That word again that brought back a haunting dream. He turned to face Gavriel, let the groveling slide off his back, though it wounded his pride to see his friend brought to her knees so over a petty, pompous, spoiled brat. He let the cripple comment float away on the breeze. It held no power, it hadn't since he was small, for he knew it was not true.

He stepped forward to the little peacock, looming like a mountain as they met in the sands, mere inches away.

He chose his words slowly, carefully, and quietly, between them, and not for the girls to hear. "Olin." He rolled the word around on his tongue as if it were a foreign flavor. "A title?" He rubbed his chin, "Did you meet her too? The pianist with no heart beat." He held his hand out in front of Gavriel, showing the bruise flourishing upon his wrist where the woman had held him.

 

[Nemesis]

"I heard you met my muse!"

Gavriel laughed upon seeing Raldon's bruise, before bringing a hand under is chin in thought as he closed his eyes, clearly visualizing his paramour before him in her negligee.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?" He said, conversationally;

"Not much personality, but those legs! Mm-mm - See, a woman like that needs a man to push her around, give her something to whine about to her friends - but secretly, she gets off to it. Don't think for a second your little nice guy act here is getting any panties wet."

He gave a shrug, as if he were the master education a particularly thick pupil, before clearing his throat.

"Let's not waste any more time."

He gestured to the scene behind them, raising his hand such that it seemed to capture the entire beautiful horizon in its palm.

"Look at this ocean. Picturesque, isn't it? The way the sun gleams on its surface. The softness of the waves. Gives you that warm fuzzy feeling when you look at it, like you're one with nature."

Gavriel stuffed his hands in his pockets, the former Instrumentalist's tone dipping somewhat, losing a little of its arrogant edge as he looked down, eyes narrowing in recollection.

"But the further out you go, the deeper it is. The darker it gets. Down there, where there's barely any light? It's every little fish for themselves, in total darkness. That's how the world out there is. Not like an episode of the fucking Partridge Family. And there's nothin' you, or I, or anyone else can do to change that.

They're about to cram so much bullshit down your throat you'll be tasting it for the rest of your life. They're gonna make their problems your problems. And when you're suffering, when you're writhing on the ground in pain and agony, feeling like your guts are being put through the grinder, all their pretty words won't make it go away.

Just remember. Don't you ever forget-"

He leaned in... and in doing so, brushed an errant bit of sand from Raldon's chest distastefully.

"None of them... None of this... means a God-damn thing. The only thing that matters? The only person you owe shit to? Is you. Not "tradition". Not "the greater good". Not them. You."

His eyes flicked up at the skies... and narrowed, as if seeing something unseen on the approach. Behind them, the two girls were getting back to their feet, Tasha still holding her throat protectively.

"...Looks like my time is up." Gavriel said, wistfully. He turned as if to leave, but before doing so - turned back, and snapped his fingers, giving Raldon an approving grin.

"Oh, by the way... Congratulations." He said, tone somewhat lighter:

"Feeling a girl up like that? You're one step closer to being a man."

 

[Hitura Rael]

Muse? That... thing? He shuddered at the thought.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?"

"No." He answered flatly. She was in fact, not. She had an ethereal beauty, sure. One of a corpse ready to go in the ground. His neutral expression slipped into one of disapproval and displeasure. How can anyone talk about another being like that? And the more Gavriel went on the clearer the truth was. This guy... this boy... was a bratty little hornball. He hadn't thrown him far enough in the ocean.

He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes following the gestures made by this little kaluta, listening while looking like he wasn't. Alas, he had little idea what Gavriel was going on about. Who was 'they'? His eyes shifted back down to Gavriel when his hand touched his chest, then took a step back. "Don't touch," his voice rumbled a warning.

Again, his mind danced in confusion. What a selfish way to view the world. And why was he congratulating him? He felt so lost and in the dark.... and yet... The girls were not similarly confused or in the dark. They knew. whatever it was, they knew.

"Feeling a girl up like that? You're one step closer to being a man."

And then the kaluta ruined the pondering by explaining it was for touching that... thing. Raldon's face fell flat as he gave Gavriel the most uninterested glare that had ever graced his face. Raldon shook his head and cleared his throat, stepping toward the girls. This would be the most he had ever said in one go in his life so far. Slowly, methodically, he spoke each word with all the dignity of a man.

"Touching people intimately is not a mark of manhood. It is the mark of a boy pretending to be a man. A howler monkey screaming loudly to cover his inadequacies. Men cherish, boys lust. And I would rather have put my hand in a hornet's nest, cleansed the stings with jellyfish infested water, and wrapped the wounds with Portuguese man of war tendrils as bandages."

 

[Nemesis]

"I used to think so too." Said Gavriel, matter-of-factly as he looked Raldon in the eyes.

The whole time he had maintained his composure, his features only flickering darkly as his "muse" was insulted. Perhaps there simply wasn't any further time for him to argue, however, as he simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I got over it. So will you. See you around, Rally-boy."

And with a wave of his hand, he was gone. Just... blinked out of existence, as if he'd never been there, leaving more questions than answers... and a shattered illusion behind him. The silence was palpable, like the air itself had curdled and thickened, as the other two returned his side. Tasha's eyes were bright and alert now, a scowl on her features as she glanced left and right, as though in preparation for any other pending assault, while Elen gently brushed the sand from her elbows and knees.

"Raldon..." Started Elen, hesitantly - but Tasha cut her off, jerking her thumb over her shoulder, a previously unheard sharp sense of urgency in her voice.

"Let's go." She said, tersely.

"We need to let the Madam know. Come on, both of you!"

Silently, Elen nodded... and followed in her wake. She looked to Raldon, as if wishing to say more... but instead mounted her bike in somber silence, to pedal after Tasha.

 

[Hitura Rael]

Raldon scoffed, the trouble maker vanished. What an annoying child. And like an annoying brat, he left behind him an oppressive atmosphere of ruined vibes and thick silence. Raldon averted his gaze from the two girls when they rejoined him. He had failed to protect them from the pompous jerk and caused both distress and degradation.

Or... was it the simmering anger inside? The anger at being left in the dark. Knowing they knew something, that they kept it from him. Perhaps something that would even make him want to stop being their friend. But what could it be? Malaise, ever a bitter companion. Silent, he obeyed, as he always had, except those precious moments he managed to steal away, brave the wilds, and not feel different from the rest.

He avoided their gaze, even as Elen looked to him. He trailed behind them, a slow pace toward home. It was a temptation to go elsewhere, somewhere alone and quiet, untainted by the events of the day. Alas... If that boy did have the backing of someone powerful, powerful enough to get away with being such a horrible human being... it was better to go confess to his mother right away rather than delay it. Technically he was the aggressor, though provoked by verbal bullying.

It was not long before the trio came to the house. Raldon put his bike away in silence and made his way into the house. "Mother, are you home?" He called into the empty of the foyer.

 

[Nemesis]

...Time seemed to drag on forever as they cycled. By the time they crossed the threshold to Raldon's residence, the night sky had settled in overhead. Had so long really passed? Or was this too, like so many other things, merely a canvas upon which perfection was being painted? Regardless, the other two walked in behind Raldon. The interior of the house was vast and well-outfitted compared to others in the area - strikingly modern, and decorated with all manner of art. Statues, paintings - his Mother seemed to make a hobby out of supporting local artists.

Sure enough, she was in the living room, seated and leafing through a binder, seemingly with work-related information. As the three entered the room, Tasha immediately opened her mouth:

"Ma'am-"

A hand was raised. The Governor didn't even look up from her reading... but her voice was firm, calm, and collected. The very picture of a leader, unmoved even in the face of an unexpected crisis.

"You two." She said, politely, yet firmly.

"Please wait outside. Let me tend to my son."

A bead of sweat ran down Tasha's face... but she acquiesced immediately, stepping back out of sight with barely a word. Only Elen gave a last second, worried glance back at Raldon before the door was closed between them. Under a painting of birds flying across an open sky, his Mother rose to her feet.

"Raldon."

There had always been a strange kind of distance between the two of them. It was not as if she was not affectionate, but her body simply often seemed to tell a different story than her words. She looked him over, checking for any unnoticed woulds with the practiced precision of one who had grown used to such a thing over the course of his life.

"What happened?"

 

[Hitura Rael]

Relief to have the other two out of his company was such an odd feeling. Of course, it was replaced with the weight of being in his mother's presence. How he just wanted to be alone. Mentally, he felt tired, and so done with the day. Yet, ever would he be the dutiful son. He stood before his mother, as was the norm, to be glanced over for injuries where he could not rightly tend himself.

Of course she'd ask the one thing he didn't want her to. How he hated explaining himself. Well, lead with the worst of it, his father always said. "A boy was bullying my friends. I threw him in the sea." His slow plodding words sounded contemplative. Should he tell her of the dream? The Kaluta knew of her, claimed her his muse. And that title... He agonized, torn between asking and remaining silent. Dare he ask? Dare he hope she would answer him? Dare he risk a hope being crushed once again, as it so often was? It was for the best

"Before that we skipped the last class. I fell asleep during lunch. Binder of notes hit my head." He pointed out the spot he remembered the impact pressure from. "It was checked, no harm."

 

[Nemesis]

"...Poor thing."

Her hand came up, and touched the side of his face, brushing away a grain of sand with her thumb as she studied his features, as if in search of a phantom crease for her to smooth out. Ordinarily, he could have expected to be punished for neglecting his studies... but her mind, it seemed was elsewhere. She turned away from him, moving to the mantlepiece.

"Many strange things happened today, didn't they?" She said, airily.

And yet at the same time, it seemed almost as if she had swept the table between them. Her asking him to detail the happenings had merely been a formality. Her fingers plucked a statuette from its perch, wrought of dull blue stone, an ugly, misshapen thing like a cross between an opera singer and bluebird. Despite it having never moved, not a speck of dust was upon its surface.

"You need not think too hard on them. I won't punish you... this time. There are more important things than school for us to discuss."

Her fingers also moved over the statuette's companion figure - a thing of red and tan, more ugly and misshapen than its sister, that guarded the opposite end of the mantlepiece. Almost absentmindedly, she took them over with her to her seat, placing them on the coffee table before her between them, where they faced Raldon.

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, or his tired brain, but for a moment it seemed as if the air behind her was flickering, as though in a heat haze. As if two bodies were leaning in to the conversation, making their presence known - but his Mother showed no sign of acknowledging them, returning to her binder as she spoke.

"But, that can wait until your mind is fresh and your spirit, rekindled. For now... Rest. Let this all merely... slip away."

Although phrased - and spoken gently - it was no less of an order than the one she had bidden his friends earlier. There would be no further discussion - he was being put away for the evening, to prepare for tomorrow's ceremonies... Whatever that meant.