raiga`s samples

[raiga zero]

• ✧ ▌ locationxxx✧ ▌ companyxxx✧ ▌ emotionsxxx✧ ▌ health %xxx
  
  He had been Eis once before, many years ago when the horrors of the war were still fresh – and not for this terrible winter. Even so, he felt his lungs deflate as he set his bright brown eyes upon the castle ahead. This kingdom’s architecture appeared sturdier than that of Ijs, built for stifling winters as well as warm summers. The nation he now served had been relatively warm year round, with dense green woodland to boast of even in the colder months; Eis on the other hand had been confronted with snow each year. The palace rooves were steep and grooved to deal with such weather, and its impregnable stone walls had blackened over the years. The more he admired its stern and dark appearance, the more it looked to Vesper that the palace’s heart had been built upon the skeleton of a longhouse, typical of such northern cultures. Over the years, as technology had improved, it had been strengthened with rock and iron, as well as extended. It was rather attractive in a very practical sense.
  
  They crossed the long drawbridge, Vesper taking note of how its ancient boards creaked beneath the weight of his mistress’ carriage. He wondered just how old this city was, and how long its royal family had been in command of it. As they crossed, a pair of individuals captured his attention; a baby-faced knight and a warrior who seemed almost defenceless against the cold. Interesting. What was such a ratty-looking hunter doing in the presence of the young prince? Vesper nodded to them in acknowledgement as he passed, following Andromeda’s carriage into the courtyard outside the main hall. Had there been time to stop and chat, the adviser would have not hesitated in speaking to the well-known royal paladin of Eis and his remarkable companion. Oberon was a valuable ally to have in such times, as was his sister; whilst staying in Eis, befriending the ruling family could not be anything but beneficial. Unfortunately, Andromeda and their impending meeting with Ophelia demanded his attention instead.
  
  He dismounted his silver buckskin and reluctantly handed its reins over to one of the stable hands before pursuing his queen into the building. The young queen seemed cold at best, her lavender eyes sparing a quick glance over her surroundings.
  
  Vesper had seen that expression far too many times, and he narrowed his own eyes in a solemn expression. She was thinking of her damned brother again. How long had it been since he had abruptly fled Ijs, leaving his younger sister to rule alone in his stead? His selfish act had clearly not damaged Andromeda’s opinion of him, much to the adviser’s chagrin. Not even his vicious attack upon their two kingdoms had affected the woman’s nigh-on obsession. “Beautiful, in a harsh way. Is it not?” he murmured quietly to the woman, attempting to break her out of her nostalgia. There seemed to be very little in the way of precious metals or art, even as they entered the throne room. Perhaps it had never suited the Eisians to beautify their surroundings – or perhaps such pieces were all sacrificed to fund the war effort many years ago, and were yet to be replaced.
  
  The young queen of Eis did not yet appear to be ready to meet with them. The butler that had guided them into the main hall swiftly left their side, and at last Vesper scowled and glanced towards the empty steel seat before them. It was a regrettable lack of manners, but at least it would give him the time to speak with Andromeda. “And I trust your journey in the carriage was comfortable, your majesty?” he questioned, his voice somewhat hushed. Raising his voice in such a large, empty room almost felt sinful. It was at that moment Oberon and the tiger-slayer reappeared. The blond boy offered a polite greeting, explaining that he was unaware of Andromeda’s surprise visit. Well of course; she had arrived to give him her best wishes of course, invited by Oberon’s elder sister.
  
  So Chevron was the name of the mysterious, if not tired looking soldier at the prince’s heels. Vesper observed him silently, unsure what to make of the rough stubble, scarred face and, more notably, the missing arm. The man still kept a sword at his hip, yet it was clear from his dishevelled appearance that it was not just a stamp of his rank. The small red stains on his threadbare shirt suggested he still knew how to make use of the blade.Vesper uncomfortably looked to the prince when offered food and drink, waiting for Andromeda to answer first. “Many thanks; however, I am well.” Asking to sample Eisian wine so early in the day would make exactly the kind of impression he was trying to avoid.
  

[raiga zero]

• Once alone with his paladin in the solace of his tent, Dimitar felt his guard fall somewhat. It was difficult to remain alert when so tired and in Caelum’s company; although the man had only just arrived from an exhausting day himself, he was relentless. If he was at all tired, then Dimitar could not see it. When he heard the paladin’s answer as to how many had passed, he found himself subtly shaking his head. That was by no means a small number; a fraction of his kingdom had just been wiped out in the name of Arceus. “Good,” he murmured coarsely as Caelum added that none of their soldiers had been harmed, but his relief did not reach his voice. He couldn’t possibly feel joy when confronted with such news; especially considering that these were people living within his kingdom, underneath the veil of his care.
  
  “Mock me, or the religion that we both share?” he murmured quietly. “Two very different things. People will always see things differently Caelum; it has been that way since the dawn of time. That is why there are four kingdoms and not one.” He placed his hand against his side and closed his eyes. “Unless they bore weapons against other citizens and threatened their beliefs as well, then you know I cannot fully support the methods that the church has selected to use. An example is a single person. Not five hundred men, women and children.” The fabric of his shirt was slightly damp, but whether or not it was just sweat from straining himself or blood he wasn’t sure. He would check the gauze in due time, but for now he focused his fading concentration upon the man in front of him. “Next time a situation like this presents itself, I ask that you take Kismit with you. At the very least, she may be able to spare more lives.” He knew it was a large demand to be making of his paladin, but he could not accept a repeat of today’s horrors. Dimitar spared a tired smile for the younger man. “It is my responsibility to worry, Caelum.”
  
  He silently observed the man as the paladin moved closer, his stoic visage turning into one of anxiety. Dimitar rose an eyebrow, patiently listening as Caelum gripped his shoulder and spoke. “I’m not an old man yet, Caelum. I am still capable of defending myself. Perhaps this evening wasn’t a very good example of that, but I wasn’t expecting such a disaster at the heart of a base as large as this one.” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, tone growing more aggressive by the minute. “I do not plan to just lay down and die.” The paladin alluding to the events with Aata caused the king to pause uncomfortably. Dimitar cleared his throat, his emotions toiling.
  
  “You’re right,” he murmured in response to Caelum’s statement on that paper and words could not win all battles. “And that is why I do what I do. It’s as much for the Earth Kingdom as it is a statement to all others. To know their king is still strong and fighting gives inspiration to the soldiers who lack your conviction; many of them don’t know me personally, as you do. They don’t see what you or I see. As far as they are concerned, they’re fighting a war that cannot be won. I want to change that. And if being injured and surviving again somehow helps their resolve then so be it.” He forced a short, humourless laugh. “As for our enemies, I want them to know that I’m still capable on and off the battlefield. Retiring from the front lines completely might just convince some to try and storm the Earth Kingdom. Rune isn’t ready to take my place as a leader and role model for this army, and until he is, I will continue visiting the warzone regularly.”
  
  He rose slowly, teetering on his feet before moving past the apologetic paladin to his waterskin. “A few stitches is a small price to pay in routing out a useless commander and strengthening our defences,” he continued. “If this hadn’t happened, we may have lost a great portion of land in the south.” He took a quick swill of the liquid, almost choking at Caelum’s playful jibe. He glanced towards the red-haired male with his trademark bitterness. “I’m not old,” he stated in an offended tone, furrowing his brow. “And Galatine has not yet fulfilled its original purpose.” His thoughts travelled back to the madwoman who had confronted him only moments earlier, her crazed laughter echoing in his ears. The dark sword had taken many lives, but not the one it had originally been smithed for. Yet. “I do not plan on ‘retiring’ from war for many years Cael; it would be best if you accepted that now.”
  
  He placed the waterskin back on his bedside table and fixed Caelum with a firm stare. “Now, onto other matters. Earlier today, Kismit informed me that she had been exchanging letters with the Sea King without my knowledge or permission, and that she’d planned to meet with him to discuss a possible treaty. I made certain that she knew of my disappointment but … nevertheless, I let her go. Rune begged to accompany her and I sent Isaac after them.” He crossed his arms, despite the pain of his stiffening torso muscles. “By some miracle, they managed to return with a signed treaty. I am expecting Galehot to send some of his people soon to talk with me directly, so I’ll be taking the convoy and returning to Lurra at first light. I am worried that they may only have accepted this peace in order to gain entrance to Lurra, so that they might take vengeance for the sky kingdom.” Dimitar lowered his gaze, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted.
  
  “You and I will have to be on our guard. I worry Kismit may be too focused on peace to consider betrayal, and that Rune’s naivety may land him in harm’s way if we do not give him guidance. The paladin of the Sea Kingdom is a strong and proud man, but savvy in the mannerisms and necessities of war as well. If he sees an opportunity, he may or may not take it; I cannot judge his level of honour based on rumours of battling the Darkness Kingdom.”
  

[raiga zero]

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[raiga zero]

CHEW MY ( LOVE ) ⋮ UNDER YOUR TONGUE LIKE IT`S YOUR BUBBLEGUM」
ratsrule
iamtheRATiamtheRATamtheRATiamtheRATYOU`RE BLOWING BUBBLES TIL THE TASTE IS GONEXXYOU`RE BLOWING BUBBLES TIL THE TASTE IS GONE
iamtheRATiamtheRATamtheRATiamtheRATTHIS IS JUST ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHTXXTHIS IS JUST ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHT
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xxxxxx《 * JUST SPIT ME OUT ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ✄ WHEN IT BECOMES MORE THAN FUN -- 板
xxxxxxLOCATION: ❛Southern bridge of mansion COMPANY: ❛Rei and Tsuki MOOD: ❛Grim, uncomfortable, happy to be with company STATUS: ❛Normal MUSIC: ❛Bulletproof

• He couldn’t help but grin and shake his head at Midori’s immediate reply. Of course she loved the fashion behind the event more than the festival itself, but it nevertheless surprised him that the day’s significance would escape her completely. It wasn’t every day that they hung wishes from trees and prayed that the Gods heard them out. Typically it was never the case; how many times had he asked the Jade God to help him? Of course they had often been impossible requests, such as bringing back his family or removing the curse from his body, but there had been no omens or small favours either. If it weren’t for their indescribable transformations, he may have just assumed that the Jade God did not exist. Yet even believing in the Heavens seemed like an impossible feat. “That’s a shame. You’d be even cuter if you blushed once in a while, even if it was over a sappy love story.” He smirked, but his silver eyes softened at the Snake’s genuine pride. It was certainly a kimono worth being so excited over. “It’s beautiful,” he told her earnestly, a rare occurrence indeed.
  
  Nao raised an eyebrow curiously as she informed him that she actually did have some in mind, but he restrained himself from asking, knowing full well that sharing such secrets would probably eliminate whatever ‘magic’ the festival had. Her planning made him want to think ahead for his own options, but Aiko’s voice caused him to turn and face the approaching pair. “Me too,” he stated simply, watching as the Dragon zodiac leant against the handrails of the bridge. Andrei spoke up then, drawing the Rat’s attention away. Nao frowned in response; despite himself, he could not help but take the scolding personally. He was almost an adult for the Jade God’s sake; he wasn’t a child anymore! “I know, I heard it,” he murmured defensively. Despite his reserved tone, his voice had become cold and rebellious. It would not help his situation at all with the Azure Dragon leering over him like this, but they hadn’t come to blows (yet, at least) and so he’d stand his ground until the opportunity to slink away arrived. “I think if I was I’d be trying harder.”
  
  Kaede waved towards them before disappearing with one of his servants. The Rat placed both hands in the pockets of his hoodie and looked back to Andrei, offering the man a forced smile. “Honestly ojisan, I can ride a bike. You don’t have to worry about me.” It was no small frustration to Nao that he was treated like a porcelain doll in comparison to his older foster brothers. Sure, they were both larger and stronger than he was, but it didn’t make him less competent. If anything, he was far more reliable because he avoided their stupid fistfights to begin with. “We aren’t expected to wear traditional clothes to this are we?” he questioned, attempting to change the subject.

[raiga zero]

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[raiga zero]

• Caelum’s expressions barely changed as Dimitar spoke, a trait that the king had become accustomed to throughout their many years together. The dark knight of the Earth Kingdom was at best robotic; his emotions remained carefully concealed, much like the king himself when in the presence of strangers. It was a strength to be somewhat stoic during these times, yet Dimitar could not help but worry what effects the man’s self-restraint were having on him. As an avid follower of Arceus, it was fairly likely that Caelum would not marry not have children throughout his lifetime. Such a choice was acceptable among men and women alike in Dimitar’s kingdom; many felt that their responsibilities rested with the gods or with their brethren in arms, rather than focusing on marrying and having children. The behaviour of the red-haired man mimicked such an ideal at this point in time. It was true that Dimitar required a man such as Caelum to rely upon, not only for his loyalty but also for his obedience – he sighed as his thoughts returned to earlier that day, to Kismit’s blatant secrecy. But the King’s fondest memories were those of Aata and Rune; he did not want to deprive someone as empty as his Paladin of such a lifestyle.
  
  Cael echoed the man’s feelings about the new alliance. It was true that the mainland gave the islands many necessary materials; stones and metals that would not be found in their own territories, for example. However, starving them out wasn’t a complete guarantee. The Sea Kingdom was home to grass-type Pokemon and rich forests; if used properly, crops could be grown in abundance across the seasons, whilst fishing made up what else was required. As long as the Sky Kingdom had something to trade, then both kingdoms would manage, if not meagrely.
  
  If there was one kingdom that gave Dimitar reason to concern, it was the Sea Kingdom. They had a more skilled navy than his own, due to the fact that its lands were spread across multiple isles and centuries had forced Galehot’s people to adapt and learn. The Earth kingdom was faced by the ocean on three fronts; the south, west and north. If the Ice King was wise and patient, the noble Earth King knew that more lives would be lost in his name. All the younger King required was a better understanding of Dimitar’s army and fortresses. But then, would he really be able to overcome the mountain that was the Earth Kingdom? Yes, Galehot had a temper, but that was as much a weakness as it was an asset. It would cripple his foresight. Lashing out at the larger continent would also strain his supply trains; unless he understood how to survive in the harsh central deserts, he would almost certainly lose the battle within the first year. But if that paladin was advising him …
  
  Dimitar heaved a sigh, forcing the concerns to the back of his mind. They could wait until he was back in Lurra. “Please do,” he responded tacitly, lifting his good arm to brush away his soft Isabelline-brown hair. Despite its coarse appearance, it was deceptively silky; a trait that had carried on to Rune’s fluffier, shorter mop and a characteristic Aata had adored.
  
  The abrupt intrusion caused Dimitar to step back towards Galatine; an instinct reaction after his trust in the camp’s soldiers had been so badly damaged. When he realised that it was his alchemist and good friend however, he stopped himself from grasping the greatsword’s hilt. His paladin was swift to scold the older man for his lack of basic etiquette, then hastily took his leave. Caelum and Eton rarely saw eye-to-eye; but aggression between allies was a normal thing in times of war. Combat did not give the time nor the mercy for there to be a perfect result, and thus friction was an inevitable annoyance. “He has a point,” the king murmured casually once the red-haired male was gone.
  
  Arguing with the alchemist over treatment would get him nowhere tonight. Even the king, perhaps one of the more bull-headed individuals on the main continent, knew that he needed aid; his dizziness was growing worse, and he needed more than just some sleep to muster the vitality for tomorrow’s journey. He noticed that the man had spared a glance to look about his tent. It was sparsely decorated, with only the basic cot, bedside table, and a large desk. Although its intended purpose was to carry the weight of Dimitar’s many tomes and maps, it was empty; the King had seen no reason in taking such sensitive information on what was supposed to be a basic border patrol.
  
  “Let us do this quickly then,” he stated in a tone that betrayed his disapproval over the situation. He removed his gauntlets and pauldrons, placing the heavy armour on the desk for easy access. After all, if his injury needed to be re-stitched then Eton would no doubt want proper access to it. His poor assistant had been in a rush, and Dimitar far too anxious, for him to have discarded the plating and his upper clothing for proper management earlier that evening. Removing his shirt was slightly more troublesome, but he stubbornly held back any utterances of pain. With his bandage now in plainer view, the dark blood stained that the gauze made it evident that he was not in a good way. The deep wound that had been cleaved into his left side would fester if not tended to carefully. Yet despite his growing discomfort, Dimitar found himself becoming more worried with his alchemist’s exhausted visage. “… are you well?” he questioned suddenly. He knew too well that Eton suffered. “Perhaps you should go back to your tent and rest. At the worst, I can have this seen to tomorrow once in Lurra.”
  

[raiga zero]

• Eton’s response caused the king to roll his eyes. They had reverted to their natural coffee-brown hues, no longer emanating the power that Celebi had gifted him all those years ago; more than likely a result of his injury and the symptoms that had followed it. Had it been anyone else, he would have insisted that they refer to him more formally from this point onwards. However, this was Eton. The pair had known one since Dimitar was but a child at the border, before he had gained the luminescent scar that differentiated him from all others. Eton had been at the palace when he had returned from his journey and took full control from the queen-regent, had attended his wedding with Aata, and had even had a hand in delivering his son into the world. Dimitar viewed them as close mutual friends, despite their many arguments and the tension that still lingered between them.
  
  He would let the topic go, if only for tonight.
  
  Although his tent was not illuminated by many candles, the bright glow from his own body made for an excellent substitute. Even as he unstrapped his pauldrons and placed them onto the table he could see that the alchemist’s fallow brown clothing was coated in something dark; the odour of which was difficult to miss, as well. “…” It was no minor worry for the king. Despite his many concerns, Eton’s held major significance as well; the man had been in the king’s life as an ally far too long to just disappear now, and he was a valuable asset with his understanding of medicine and explosives alike. “Tch, is something in the water around here? Who are you to be calling me an old man, older man?” Dimitar growled defensively, frustrated. “She did … but I will admit that I did not make it very easy for her. I was not prepared to remove my armour – a fortuitous decision.” He gestured towards his left pauldron, to the jagged scratch that had been left from the final rogue to attack him.
  
  The King took the small flask, surprised by the alchemist’s haste to hand it over. “Drink it. It will take the edge off of the pain, make you sleepy, but most importantly you won't flinch as much when I'm stitching.” Dimitar’s lips curved into a tight frown and his eyes fell to the metal bottle in his hand. Could he really afford to be drowsy? It would help him get more rest during the night, but what if there was another emergency? After a moment of silent deliberation, he unscrewed the lid and lifted it to his lips. He would just have to trust Caelum and the others to – oh, Arceus! The liquid was strong, undoubtedly alcohol mixed with bitter herbs, and it scorched his throat. “F-for ******** sake,” he snarled between harsh coughs, “if I didn’t know you b-better I’d say you were trying to poison me.” It had been many years since Dimitar had gone near liquor, let alone something this strong. Despite this he took several more swigs, his hacks (and badly concealed laughter) causing him more pain than what he was willing to endure.
  
  He had not finished the bottle, but instead placed the flask on the bedside table and considered the alchemist's words. “A pain?” he repeated sceptically. “I have seen the results of this for myself, Eton; it is much more serious than that … I am glad to hear you are feeling better.” His voice was oddly quiet as he spoke; for once Dimitar was speaking as a friend and not as a ruler. The familiar kindness did not last very long, however. “But if you feel ill at all, you will stop immediately and you will rest. I will drag you by the ankles to your tent if need be. Understand?”
  
  By some miracle, Dimitar held back any groans or protests that his body attempted to muster as William poked and prodded. He had learnt decades ago that the alchemist did not take kindly to being physically fought with, and did not doubt that Eton was somehow prepared were that the case. The fact that he had been forced backwards into an uncomfortable posture did not help, his silence coming to an end as the liquid on his wound seared. His held breath escaped in in a hiss. “Arceus,” he cursed, grasping a handful of his bedsheets and squeezing the fabric to avoid kicking Eton in the jaw instead. “That’s supposed to be helping me?” He glanced up as Eton stood and spoke. “Tsk, please. Do not start,” Dimitar muttered bitterly. “You are my alchemist; I do not expect you to be placing your life on the line fending off Darkness troops, when there are obviously so many soldiers available.” He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “We do not know that for certain. I cannot remember you ever bowing.”
  
  The pain in his side was finally beginning to dissipate. “Please tell me you have finished,” the King grumbled.
  

[raiga zero]

• Rune had eventually located his tent with the assistance of several soldiers, and was relieved to have found Ehre waiting for him at its entrance. The large Tyrantrum had cooed as gently as it could upon seeing him, its attempt to nuzzle the prince causing him to fall firmly onto his backside. Rune was far too gleeful to see his beloved friend to get upset over the fall however. They were all reunited at last; he was sure many more of his friends would be within this camp somewhere, either resting or preparing for tomorrow’s expedition. He was unsure whether or not his father had originally planned to roam north and to visit the other bases and fortresses, but with the news of their new treaty Rune strongly believed that Dimitar would want to return to Lurra to meet with his new allies. His father had never been the kind to trust others very easily, but perhaps the Sea Kingdom could change that. Its paladin, Acel, had seemed like a calm and strong man who was inured to understand a king’s anxieties. Maybe he would be able to sooth the Earth King so that the two could speak on equal terms.
  
  The young prince retreated to the comfort of his tent, allowing Ehre to force its large head through the entrance and rest it on the ground. Freiheit had wriggled in before the dragon-type had blocked the doorway, taking up occupancy on Rune’s makeshift bed. Silbern hovered in the corner of the room, observing the other three with silent curiosity. For some time Rune read to his Pokemon and played with them, enjoying the innocence of his situation. However, he could not let go of his own insecurities which had blossomed in the presence of Galehot.
  
  “Prince Rune … you cry over some mere words?”
  
  The Ice King had shaken his head then, as if unable to accept that the boy was in fact of Dimitar’s blood. He had emulated the disappointment that Rune had always harboured for himself, but not once had he been spoken to with such an obvious tone of regret. He had always been told to be proud of his achievements and heritage, and to ignore those who would show him negativity, but it was difficult. Galehot was a respected king, just as his father, and he clearly understood what was required in a ruler. Whatever that was, he had not seen it in Rune. Possibly he had been going so far as to compare him to Dimitar, the oldest and most experienced sovereign in all the four kingdoms. Rune’s slender fingers moved across Ehre’s snout, savouring the harsh texture under his skin. How could he compare to his father? He was not strong, or courageous, or wise. It often felt that his only redeeming trait, his kindness, was swiftly overturned by the fact that he was so gullible.
  
  He sighed heavily, Ehre grunting worriedly at him. “Ah, I’m okay.”
  
  Suddenly the Tyrantrum jerked its large head away, pulling itself back from the tent. Before Rune could question his protector’s odd behaviour, a soldier came into view at the structure’s now dishevelled entrance. The man appeared gaunt and pale, but colour returned to his face upon seeing the prince unharmed. “My lord … thank goodness.” He went on to explain that the dreaded Darkness Knight Ophelia had been spied near the camp and that Dimitar, with the assistance of Kismit, had managed to ward her off. “We were concerned that it may have been some kind of ploy to distract us. We’re glad to see you are safe, young prince.” The news was difficult to accept; not only was Ophelia a terrifying omen within the Earth Kingdom, but she had come face to face with his father. “Is my f- the King alright?”
  
  “I do not believe he was attacked by the knight herself your highness, but as I understand, his wound from the earlier encounter is currently being treated.” ‘Previous encounter’? Rune blinked and allowed the soldier to take his leave and recommence his patrol. The prince had remained sitting on the ground throughout the conversation, and so was still in a suitable position to draw his legs up and hug them to his torso. If that was the case, then Dimitar had lied to both him and Kismit about being well. For once, Rune wanted to be angry; his hands clenched into fists and he honed in on the sick feeling in his stomach. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when his father’s reasoning was so obvious. It was often said that his mother had perished due to infection, slowly and painfully decaying even as she still breathed. The King had not wanted his son to worry. “… that’s not fair,” he whispered despondently. He had every right to worry for the wellbeing of his loved ones. He rose to his feet, dusting off the back of his trousers and meeting Ehre’s confused expression with what resolve he could summon. “Let’s go pay father a visit.”
  
  They had not gone very far before Rune realised how selfish he was being. Eton would take good care of Dimitar, and his father needed as much rest as he could get; neither Eade would sleep if they came into conflict and left it unsettled, which was often the case. Neither could handle emotional situations well, each for very different reasons. The boy stopped and sighed, stretching his arms. “This is useless. Maybe I should just sleep,” he muttered, glancing up at his Tyrantrum. The Pokémon’s eyes were directed elsewhere however, lingering on the shadows. Its focus was fairly intimidating. “Is it … an enemy?” He gripped the unfamiliar hilt of his falchion. He did not know how to use the weapon, but knowing that it was with him made the boy experience a strange mixture of fear and safety. As his eyes adjusted to the dark however, he noticed the person in question was sitting and hardly moving. It only took a moment to recognise the white silhouette of robes, and Rune released the sword with a loud sigh of relief.
  
  “Lavendel, you scared me!” He laughed nervously as he acknowledged her, approaching the quiet mage. Rune could not stop himself from grinning, somewhat liberated that he was in the presence of a close ally rather than an antagonist. “Ah, you can read in this light? You have very good eyes.” He did not ask why she was alone; it always seemed to be the case for the spell caster, yet she seemed to enjoy the solitude. “Do you mind if I sit here with you?”
  

[raiga zero]

• Every few months, Miyamoto Hikaru convinced his parents to send him to the estate. It was more difficult than he had originally imagined, as their conversations always took place over the phone, so his mother and father were oblivious to aspects such as how hard he worked to keep his room clean without the assistance of his caretakers, or that he placed so much focus into his musical pursuits. Faxed school reports could only do so much to describe the little boy they had failed to raise. Yet with persistence, the Sheep succeeded. Seiryuu would send a car into Tokyo to the apartment in which the boy lived and the nervous boy would at last have peace and quiet from his stressful life among the other boys of his high school. The mansion was not perfect by any means, but at the very least he had friends and family here who were willing to help him if need be.
  
  Yet, despite his joy at finally being with them, he still felt incredibly out of place – to the point where it genuinely hurt. He had developed a strong bond with Eli-kun and most of the little ones seemed to look up to him, yet he still continued to choke up and stammer nonsense if asked to voice his opinion. It wasn’t that he lacked judgement or intelligence, but that he feared the Miyamotos as much as he adored them. As someone who was not constantly present, it would not be very difficult for Hikaru to be outcast by his cousins. A terrible observation he knew, and a distinct lack of trust, but the pessimistic lamb couldn’t help but succumb to his imagination.
  
  The fifteen year-old was currently holed up in his room in the Fire Wing. By ‘his’, he meant the Sheep’s; it was fully furnished, and although he had not touched it since arriving, it felt sickeningly familiar. He had been tempted to ask some of the legendary beasts if they could remember the last Sheep, but his shyness had prevented it.
  
  Speaking with anyone but the Boar was a struggle, and Hikaru was aware of Eli’s promise to walk Aiko-kun to school. So what was the point of leaving his little safe haven just yet? He pulled at his blankets, wrapping them around his body in an attempt to cocoon himself with fluffy warm goodness. “But … I suppose I should make the most of this. I won’t be here forever; maybe … maybe I can make some more friends?” Maybe. Not likely. But he had to try and be proactive. He wanted the others to look to him as a source of comfort, and avoiding their company was going to achieve nothing but the opposite.
  
  It had taken a large amount of bravery to leave his room, skittering past maids and butlers that he did not recognise with the urgency of a distrusting survivalist. He deedled along, small feet pitter-pattering across the floor towards the Water Wing. If Eli-kun was still there, he could help the Boar walk little Aiko to school and maybe befriend the Dragon on the way. Maybe they could even get something to eat, and Hikaru could learn more about the town closest to the estate. Rather than stumbling across the crimson-haired connoisseur however, Hikaru scampered onto a scene that looked like something that belonged in the ER shows he loved to watch. “N-ne? Su-kun, why are you crying?!” He was nervous and as a result, his question came out exigently; in what sounded like an angry wail. There was no time to curse his existence however. He skidded across the floorboards in his socks and stopped by the Ox’s side, to where the boy was sitting despondently behind the television. A quick glance certified the Sheep’s fears. “Wh-why did you put your hand in the television?!” He grasped the small boy’s wrist. “Please stand, Su-kun. We should put this under water right away.”

[raiga zero]

• The king could only offer Eton a rebellious glare as the doctor responded to his comment about poison, still recovering from the fact that it had charred his insides with its unnatural heat. “I was unarmed. What would you have had me do? Turn my back to them?” he questioned the man coarsely. “And this is not ‘cleaved in half’. You and I know better than that.” He left the bottle, confident that he’d had enough. He had been tended to with less in the past. ‘You and I … survivors of some of the worst events in the history of the Earth Kingdom. Battles and skirmishes that would change the history of this continent forever.’ He lowered his gaze to the grassy floor of his pavilion, recalling their time at the warzone together as young men and the years that had followed. Whereas his bond with Caelum had been formed out of devotion and necessity and faith, Dimitar’s friendship with Eton had been tempered with blood and steel before the miracle of Celebi and before he had borne the weight of the crown. Eton had seen his transformations from a man to a regal figurehead, a soldier to a lover, a child to a father. Although they did not always cooperate, they were closer than how it appeared on the surface.
  
  Even so, Eton became silent when the king grilled him about his wellbeing, the fair haired swordsman lifting his eyes to glare his alchemist down. ‘And he thinks I’m stubborn,’ he wondered to himself in disbelief, but nevertheless he accepted the animalistic sound of reluctant agreement. He would not get much better from Eton; not in this state, and not without another such as Caelum to support him.
  
  Despite the agony caused by the so-called ‘salve’ that his alchemist had concocted, Dimitar had not missed Eton taking a swig from that infernal flask. “Y-you’re in pain,” he grunted, straightening as much as his body would allow. “I knew it … go back to your tent, now; I can bandage this myself.” The king had accumulated enough knowledge in the rush of battle about how to staunch bleeding and protect an injury with gauze. If he bound the wound now, it would get him through the night – as long as he was not overly restless. But that seemed like a distant threat with how busy he had been that day. “Honestly Eton, what am I to do with you?” he growled under his breath, observing as the taller and older man prepared hooks and other Arceus-forbidden tools.
  
  “Oh, well then, you are welcome. I would be glad to act as your personal distraction and meat-shield again.” The words were grumbled with bitter humour, but not necessarily a lie. Even in his age, Dimitar was an excellent fighter – especially when he had Galatine at his side. To kill four armed men, all trained soldiers, with his bare hands was quite the feat considering that the Earth King lacked chest or torso armour. Most would have been struck down before getting the opportunity to harm a swordsman of such calibre, let alone kill them. Even so Dimitar had managed it. He brushed his fingers lightly across his wound as the burning sensation dissipated, finding that the area had sufficiently numbed. “That is not bowing. In full seriousness though, should we be visited by the Sea Kingdom, I expect you to act less like … you and more as an alchemist who respects your king and who is willing to tolerate basic etiquette.”
  
  Oh, of course. Eton did not yet know of Kismit’s success. The king mustered only a small grimace in the older man’s direction as he was advised to sit down. He did so, leaning back onto his hands and for once feeling mildly uncomfortable with his surroundings. He had grown up in simple bases such as this; mattresses of hay had never bothered him, nor had the constant noise. Yet right now, the ticklish sensation of his threadbare blanket aggravated him. Or rather, it was the fact that Eton had just threatened to pin the king down with his a**. “Watch it. I do not have the patience for that warning tonight.” He watched as Eton prepared for stitching, choosing to ignore the flask that had been reset on the table beside them. “I must inform you of something. Today, whilst in Brighthill to the south-west, Kismit informed me that she had been exchanging secret letters and divulging the Sea King to the conception of a potential peace treaty. I voiced my disappointment with her, but allowed her and Rune to meet with him, Isaac in tow. I know there was no stopping Kismit; not with her abilities as an Aura Guardian. Rune … I believe he needed the experience. I trusted Isaac to get them back safely.” He at last complied for the alchemist and laid down completely, albeit stiffly. “She did actually convince him to sign a treaty. Honestly, so quickly? I cannot help but worry that Galehot is somehow planning to take advantage of this friendly guise and strike when we are most vulnerable … he is too closely linked with the Sky Kingdom to have accepted an alliance so swiftly.”
  
  
  

[raiga zero]

• Dimitar was pleasantly surprised by how quiet Eton had suddenly become, but it was also fairly disturbing. The doctor was very rarely so quiet, and it was often a bad omen. The King attributed it to the man’s obvious sickness, watching as he turned his offer down with a quiet shake-of-the-head and proceeded to prepare anyway. It was incredibly frustrating for Dimitar. He had often heard of rumours about that doctors often made the very worst patients; he did not comprehend why Eton dared to complain about his ‘poor behaviour’ when the own man would not even acknowledge that he needed help. He could not see Eton’s expression behind the mask, but the man’s quietness suggested that he had nothing positive to add to the conversation. That was not unexpected; he had never been one to submit easily, as proved by his insistence to survive and to walk again, both feats he managed.
  
  He narrowed his eyes at the man’s unexpected explosion, noting his tall frame tense and recoil as if he’d been struck. However, the king silently complied. It was rare that Eton’s stress got to him like this, and although Dimitar wanted to press on, he feared that the pressure would spark adverse reactions. Sometimes, he supposed, even the most powerful man in the kingdom had to bend his knee for the sake of his companions. For what was a king without followers? Just a man who claimed to bear a weighty title.
  
  The fair-haired warrior had witnessed Eton’s sudden drive to imbibe several mouthfuls of the alcohol. Had they been in the palace, Dimitar would have turned the man away and summoned another healer instead – but they were scarce on skilled doctors in this place, let alone ones he could trust. So many unfamiliar faces … it seemed reasonable for him to worry that something like that would be taken advantage of. Yet miraculously, the man’s hands remained firm and steady; although the experience remained fairly painful, there were no unnecessary pricks made to his gash. Time passed quickly between them, with neither man speaking; the only sounds were those made by Eton’s equipment and the king’s occasional utterances of things he needed to attend to once back in Lurra, a minor distraction from the pain and an excellent way of occupying himself. “I have a terrible vibe the Sea Kingdom will visit Lurra as soon as possible, as I was not present to give my ‘blessings’ … but I cannot turn away their demands to meet, either. I may have to call upon some fyrds to assist with securing the palace and providing extra arms. I cannot afford to draw extra soldiers away from their posts for an event that may only last a day.”
  
  Once the alchemist had finished, Dimitar slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, struggling not to let his uneasiness reach his face. The wound would heal more quickly and better now, but the altered sensation of tighter, neater stitching would take some time to grow used to. He froze only to let Eton smooth a cold ointment onto his skin, flinching briefly at the contact. He had not realised how warm he had felt until that moment, and credited his body’s high temperature to a hot flush of anxiety and the Earth Kingdom’s infamous temperatures. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly, but any further statements or questions involving the Sea Kingdom were contained and pushed to the back of the king’s mind. His original thought had been to stand and guide Eton out before selecting a tome from underneath his bed, but the doctor’s lack of movement gained a similar reaction from Dimitar. Eventually, the man slung his legs over the edge of the bed and gazed down at his crouching alchemist, clasping his hands and waiting to hear whatever it was that Eton had to say.
  
  The words caught him off-guard, but he promptly recovered and regained his stoic expression. “…” He reached down and grasped his friend’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. “Of course. We will work through this challenge, just as we have done with all others; there is nothing for you to be concerned about. I would never allow myself to get taken by surprise by someone as …” There was a short break in his sentence as the king grappled for words. “… headstrong as he is.”
  

[raiga zero]

• The healer remained oddly quiet throughout, never regaining his usual dynamism. Despite the king’s attempt at lifting his friend’s spirits, Eton shrugged off the lame comfort, clearly stricken with worry. Dimitar glanced away, dark eyes lingering on one of the candles closest to them. The wax had mostly melted, leaving the object short and metamorphosed. Hot white liquid rolled down its rippled surface. What could he do? He had always struggled emotionally; he had adapted to hiding his own distress behind an apathetic face, and when others did not do the same, he found it difficult to alleviate their worries. Rune was fairly easy to speak with, as Dimitar knew him well and could take advantage of his optimism. The same went for Kismit and her hopefulness. Cael followed his drive to keep his king and prince safe. But Eton? The man was rarely not smirking about one subject or another, and was often the individual responsible for causing grins throughout Dimitar’s inner circle of loyal supporters. So, how he relieve him of grief?
  
  “Of course,” he replied, eyes lingering on Eton’s grim expression as he spoke. He felt the alchemist’s gloved hand pat his own, then linger, until his friend awkwardly moved back and requested that he bind the wound as well. Dimitar crossed his arms as Eton started unpacking the gauze without having yet heard the king’s response. “Fine,” he submitted, still at a loss as to what to say. The fabric felt strange against his skin, and there was a distinct flowery scent in the air. “I’m going to be smelling like flowers?” he questioned under his breath. He supposed it was better than reeking of blood and sweat, yet the sweetness better suited Rune, Kismit or Lavendel than the fearsome warrior-king of the Earth nation. Once it had been fastened and the remaining tools returned to Eton’s satchel, the king sighed.
  
  “Thank you, but I doubt I will be doing much else tonight. We have a long way to travel tomorrow, and I have a lot to think about until then.” He watched the alchemist thoughtfully. Dimitar felt unsatisfied with his performance as a friend; Eton was obviously hurting, and to let him walk away in such a state would only cause unnecessary damage to their bond.
  
  “Eton, what is troubling you?” he questioned at last. He had an idea of what may have shaken the doctor, and although it was a painful topic to speak of the king understood that it was essential. “I understand you may be nervous about the situation with the Sea Kingdom and its king. Admittedly, so am I. I had not planned on forming any alliances.” He suddenly felt embroiled in rancour again. Dimitar was still disappointed that Kismit had lied to him and that she had manipulated her position to alter the fate of his kingdom. She had only meant to help … but having his subordinates acting out on their own accord in such ways was, frankly, disturbing. She had started something, but it would ultimately fall to Dimitar and his descendants to maintain it. What was next? Would she flee to the Sky Kingdom and request for peace from them as well? Dimitar was exhausted enough as it is, and although he remained vigilant and dutiful, his aggressiveness on the field had dulled somewhat in the last two years. Today had been a powerful blow to his confidence and to the trust he held in his closest companions. He did not need another repeat of Aata; he did not desire to lose his role as a leader to those beneath him and act merely as a figurehead whilst they ‘took care of everything’.
  
  Concord and amity were ideals that could not last forever. Even if Kismit and others like her calmed the storm, it would only rise once more in the future. Honestly, both she and Aata were fighting a losing battle against human nature.
  
  He shook his head, pulling away from his thoughts. “But this will work out somehow. We will all get through it. Alive; together. Regardless of what happens.” He tried to smile but failed. Instead, he found himself grimacing. “Rune, Kismit … they’re of a different era. They desire harmony above all else … they did not see what we saw. And although I mourn for Kismit’s partner, I do not believe she will fully understand what it is that drives this war.” The man closed his eyes. Discussions like these sent him back to the past; he felt like a eighteen year-old boy grappling for the right words, trying to build a sentence that no one would judge him for. “I took this kingdom when it was the brink of war. I plunged it into that state; I did what I felt was required to stop Ave. How many years has it been? … and even after her death, I find myself fighting her armies. King Luscious – what if he shares her ideals? Can I really afford to turn my attention to befriending people like Galehot and establishing trade with him? Neither the Sea nor Sky Kingdoms are in our position right now. I cannot stop. Not after so many lives have been wasted because of Ave’s madness … because of my decisions. I cannot ask my people to put down their weapons after fathers, mothers and children have perished over something that has not yet been won. So many seek vengeance and I cannot leave someone as gentle as Rune with that legacy. Hatred broke Aata. It would break him as well.”
  
  He hesitated, realising that his plan had backfired. “I want to understand your position in all of this … I want to know what is causing you this suffering and if I can help to assuage you somehow.”
  

[raiga zero]

• Eton remained mostly quiet, until the king asked him to speak. Up until that point, the alchemist had worked tirelessly to bandage the king and pack away his own belongings, preparing for the venture back to his tent to rest. It was clear that Dimitar had not succeeded in helping him find some relief in this all, but had he honestly expected more from the king? Aata had been the source of the nation’s soothing whispers, the most beautiful and precious jewel in the Earth Kingdom’s metaphorical crown. Although Dimitar always appeared to be in control it had been the queen to gently guide him through the wreckage of war and despair. She had been his light in dark times. And it was clear now that she had cradled many others in her lifetime as well; that he could not hope to replace her when it came to comforting others. Ironic, that he was expected to carry the hope all men and women underneath his banner yet could not communicate that same optimism, nor could he feel it within the fibres of his body. He was a realist and a pessimist. He simply had to be; he had to expect the worst of every situation, so that he could be prepared to handle whatever happened next.
  
  As he listened to Eton’s reply, he drifted back to the desk on which his armour had been position and drew his thumb over the damaged plating. It was true; Rune had not witnessed Ave’s insanity for himself, nor had he felt the responsibility for those slaughtered by her soldiers. As a ruler and healer, he and Eton felt differently about the lives lost. But the man’s response surprised him. He glanced towards the doctor, then back to the metal under his thumb, its silver surface reflecting the dancing firelight of the candles. “…” What he sought? Vengeance. Justice. A means to apologising to his people for what he had put them through. Even if he did merely desire to hold off Luscious’ forces, he would have to keep his borders manned and ready. Surely the Darkness King felt the pressure of his people crying out for retribution? It was fully possible he’d take advantage of the Earth Kingdom’s withdrawal to bolster his forces and try again. And although his attempts at fighting were not nearly as passionate as Ave’s, they were still there. He had not asked for peace, and so Dimitar had not considered it. Too much blood had been spilt upon this ground to merely walk away now. Eton, Kismit, Rune – they all felt differently about this. But they had not been the ones to give the order. People had died in his name. He could not simply forget their sacrifice …
  
  “I want there to be something of this land left when this is over,” he whispered grimly, not looking at Eton. “Destroying something that so many have died for ... unless it were absolutely necessary in defending my kingdom, I could not do that. William was a respectable tactician and a strong leader, but I do not want to be remembered like he is today.” He heard the man coughing viciously behind him, and after a moment he returned and retrieved the waterskin from beside his bed. He silently passed it over to the doctor, his mind still reeling from dark memories of the past and the insecurity of the future. He tilted his head slightly. Was the man trying to infect him with a sense of guilt? He said nothing, but shot the alchemist a cold stare instead. ‘You will do as you do, as you have always done, and I will be here to try and piece together the soldiers that return from that hellhole.’ Eton most likely didn’t mean offence through his words, but Dimitar certainly felt wounded by them. It sounded as if the man believed Dimitar held no value in life, or that he acted impetuously out of greed. That was not the case. But the king was not prepared to launch into an argument with the healer clearly strained.
  
  He had to maintain his impassiveness, yet it hurt to hear Eton say that. The next words after the healer had bundled up his belongings caused the king to flinch.
  
  How dare he …
  
  How could he? Maybe this was Eton’s morbid sense of humour finally reappearing, but Dimitar was seething for it. “Leave now and rest,” he ordered coldly. Perhaps the alchemist would find more comfort in the presence of Rune or Kismit, but for now the king needed solitude.
  

[raiga zero]

[raiga zero]