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Breathed mist as he made his way along — soft falalalas under his breath; before a distant sound broke his concentration.

Something bursting from an alley.

‘A doe, a deer, a female —‘ screams — the sound of scrabbled hoof beats and a wail of a creature that resembled an elk? He wanted to say elk at least. Wondered what an animal like that was doing in the middle of a city; between his running inner monologue of Christmas songs that bled into nursery rhymes. Courtesy of spending extra time with Lysi, literally decking the halls and imbibing in the Christmas spirit. Which boiled down to endless eggnog, cookies galore, and holiday movies that ran round the clock hallmark channel style.

Whatever — henshined the heck up before he took to the rooftops. Vantage point suddenly full of soft pastels that burst onto the sidewalk— and something hungrier rushing out after them. He would’ve said it was a Youma that’d found itself a venison snack.

Except the aura was weird?

Friend or foe - the idea of dealing with a pair of deer was instantly appealing!

“Hey huntress!! You want a hand?” shouted around a smile, thing that wavered for the silhouette the creature cast as it stepped out — as he slipped down close enough to gawk without being right on top of the bulky antlered b*****d —- “Ohoho, Issa biggin, huh.”

In truth, he could've simply stood there and watched her work. Perched himself back upon a ledge, taken up residency in the bed of a higher end ford truck and just -- enjoyed the show. Every practiced perfect step she took, the way even though he knew now - vaguely - how stepping between one realm or another stole things from a person. Snatched them outta their heads. That the body remembered, that whatever memory remained in her muscles that made her a deadly thing to face down - how that -- oh, that had surely ******** remained ingrained in her. From hair end to toe tip.

Should've maybe called in his beloved firebrand to roast marshmallows over the event. Cozied up just to see the end results. Like viewing a matador in a live arena, except no simple blades would've felled the beast she faced, not so easily at least.....

"How are you gonna do that if you get done in by a deer? Like, irony of ironies aside, getting gored is a shitty way to go!" <********, if he was too impressed by her to watch the end result - to see her go that way - a waste. Of her life, of his chances for betterment through getting his a** beat by her!?

Hell no --

As sparks razed up from where antlers -- amorphous darkness - sharp enough to shoot sparks off of car sides. Someone's hefty insurance claim waiting in the wings, hooves that lit over tarmac and crunched across roadside like they were much heavier then they should've been.

"Whatever...My point is! You can't kill me if you're 'dead', Cybele"

He could be serious, sometimes; could manage to throw some bass under his breath while he made a decision - made a move - graveled bite that "Lash of Retribution" held, the words heavy like a pitbulls snarl - like a thing let off leash, as he tucked in low before springing close enough to let his magic loose.

Eager, eager, things the ink woven into him was - how it hungered for the hide of the creature - took on a life of it's own - for the way the tattoo's wrung into whiplash living beings bit along flesh that wasn't, tore at fur that didn't strip free - how the beast didn't bleed quite right.

Ooh, the bellow of rage it let loose -- and did deer's eyes glow red? Was it a deer at all?

'Hello, friend - let's play!'

He had gotten a promotion, thankyouverymuch, and only with a little help!

Heard her pointers tossed over the sound of shredding metal, the way aluminum crumpled weakly when caught in the beasts tirade..

He wondered if they were frenemies, rivals? Was viciously gleeful at the idea of being either, even when she went on and on and —- he had to scoff at the idea of bearing her body to mount like a trophy on some wall. The laurels shaped tiara maybe…or her starseed…

Except he wanted her to return to the cauldron, and maybe firebrand wanted a taste— no he’d wanted to re-corrupt her. Which, he wasn’t for, held a firm belief that good enemies deserved glory in the end; a chance to come back and fight on one side or the other, the next time around.

“You’re still a Senshi, Cybele! A sister, so if you die?”

Yanked on the back as she kept it busy from the front. Watched her blows land across the hard skull and soft looking snout, and he endeavored to be a literal pain in the beasts a**.

“It should be by the hands of someone who’s earned the right!”

By someone’s hands — by a sword of steel or fiery maw or — and what kind of warrior was he!? What kind of Senshi? If he stood by and did nothing. Let her get trampled under steel rending hoof…

Lame, and he damned well wasn’t willing to be that. To sit idle and claim a win off of someone else’s work..

“Lissn’ if you wanna teach me better tactics — oh hell— I’m open to it! Besides It’s cool right! That you’re so popular?! I mean—“ he thought it was badass! That she was wanted, on a list, someone worth hunting, admired by others. “Ohman, hey am I popular — wait — do you have friends?! You should totally tell your friends about me, for real!”

For all his yammering he nearly missed the hoof that came up, powerful hind that kicked back and tore air - felt it split the binding as he rolled off to the side. Hissed for the rush of adrenaline and sudden slow motion that seemed to eat sight — dragged his vision into a funnel on those four deadly feet.

*’Too close’*

How that instant wasn’t the first time he’d wished for something sharper than steel to skewer monsters with — how it wouldn’t be the last.

Especially when the ******** reared to buck— Would it flee — would it die — would it flip a 2011 Toyota Fiat like it weighed little more than a feather.

“Well ******** a big buck you are Bambi! Now behave — Binding Retribution*”

Better to waste a first level spell on trying to hogtie an ankle and yank it off balance - better to save what magic he had left for her — if they made it that far.

He had divorced himself of the stars above, hadn't he?

He wasn't so stupid though, even if it hurt to admit. He knew, had figured it out after --- What Nembus had said, all her words and fears and missing pieces. What she'd practically sobbed with her skittered looks and hilted stop-gap questions. What Albiero with her lovely, large, heart had so willingly and sweetly shown. Treasure that he kept as his own. No one needed to know. She was a lovely swan, she deserved some peace on her gentle lifeless lake...

How it was not that he had flown too close to the sun. No, he'd clipped his pinfeathers, grounded himself to Earth and sheered off the responsibilities of flight all together. Signed the fresh new birth certificate in blood and with a smile, picked a new name, new parents, the whole shebang.

Born a Senshi -- always -- He knew that, too! Felt it in his blood and through the writhing ties of his magic. H i s Magic. The way it sung so sweetly, the way it was birthright, and not even the endless stream of time would change that - not for the Praxidikes that came before, nor the ones that would come after.

He had made a choice though. Earth. Albite. Emancipated himself from the rest. Given the middle finger to his planet. For the sake of people, of life, of -- ******** -- Things he cared more about infinitely more than a small hunk of desolate space debris. Maybe if he'd been born there, how he'd feel differently? Maybe if -- if so many things were different.


Was almost a little upset for how Cybele bled - enough to dig his heels in and haul back on the beast. To kick out as it went down under Cybeles precise strikes. Lovely how she took its feet out from under it, how it writhed and dragged -- Even as he wondered if that would scare it off, for how the being certainly wasn't going to dust just from them laying into it. Magic or no.


He had to shake his head at her offer --

He hadn't picked up her true lesson on tactics, even when she'd beaten it into him, this though? 'Purifying'.

"Unless you've taken up crushing Starseeds too? I'll live on, regardless. Maybe next time Cybele....You n' me, yeah? We could share our friends then, heh, be Sisters."


"There's nothing worth swapping pallets for...I love people. I love - Earth - N' space is ********' pretty as all hell, don't get me wrong! It is, but unless there's something alive up there worth loving enough to step over that line for?"

Those were the words he said - but what he meant was --- and maybe Cybele of all people couldn't understand? How the thought of that hurt his heart just a little, made him angry that they'd done her dirty enough to ruin the parts of her that could've gotten what he wanted to say.

What was worth giving up - of himself - for the sake of trading sides. His love of others yes, but his love of himself? Would he give a whole or half of his mind so simply, lose it all for the sake of -- of one side, another side?

What did Cybele have to lose in making changes? In making choices? "I'm sorry for what they took from you deerheart..I really am." The idea struck him that she'd be stunning if she were reborn. How maybe he could help with that. When his magic faded a second time - how he stepped back and gave the beast a chance - to flee - to fight -- but his gaze was split between following the thrashing dark hide, and tracking Cybele's steps. Something serious that lingered there. Bunched up under his muscles where the ink curled warm, coiled and hissed, waiting to strike.

The fleeting hoof eats and bellow a backdrop to his heartbeat, steady thump that soared to have — ******** — an actual conversation with her. With the name that even General kings and Queens asked after.

“She’s definitely not here to protect ‘Senshi’ — like — ********, Cybs? Have you ever seen the Rift….do you even remember that much?”

He hoped she did. That he was saying something that held meaning. Oh, how he loved it. How he’d wanted to kick the screaming doors off of their heavy hinges and loose the world that lived under upon everything that thrived above — watch the two collide in a tidal wave of sunburst and ash.

Live together as one; because earth.. and the rift was of earth.. and the desolate dusty kingdom? How those things were so married and muddied together… that surely they should’ve both been allowed into the light of day..

How all one ever had to see was *that* — and they’d *know*. The grisly, undeniable, ‘truth’ of it all.

That he wasn’t saying he believed Metallia some - great savior of the planet he picked over his own - not some benevolent protector. Nor did he feel she’d whole sale slaughter her one tried and true energy source, not when she seemed so—- trapped where she was? Bound planet-side if nothing else.

“She’s hungry…” and he got that, shared that thing with Metallia, felt it the way agni did, whenever he and his boss - his boy - his beloved firebrand stared at each other a little too long.

“No, its more then that? She’s so ravenous that her need to fill the void? Gets everyone around her ‘hurt’.”

And he saw that too - felt it - had caused hurts and seen them done without batting a ******** eye. Understood how selfish hunger and desire without boundaries could cause harm. Even when someone was being nice about it - was being kind with how they stole away the pieces they needed for themselves.

Like Parasites — like leech’s—

“Except, from where I’m standing — the difference between her, and say, the sun exploding in a few billion years?”

Everyone paid the price, in service, in love, in life and undying worship at the alter of ‘her’. He hated that — sometimes — but also? He’d come to accept it. That nothing gained ever came without giving. Blood letting for the privilege of power, people, a place where he felt like he belonged…

“If a difference exists, I can’t see it. What does it even matter to you - when you have all of the heavens at your disposal. I mean, ******** hell, you could — sip mojitos on the front porch of your star, and watch the aftermath of it all. Nice n cozy like.”

Flippant worlds heaved Ali N the edge of his smile, while he slid his heel back over churned targravel, let the sound of his movements be loud against the angle of his stance. His aim clear now — his eyes narrowed for her every twitch - the way her lacy lilac bows shifted with every breath; the slow trickle of red from the graze of antlers…

He wondered - Did she even remember enough to care, did she even have enough people in her life to have kept the kinds of connections that made love worth hurting for, that made the deaths of those close sting? Or had she become her magic? Some duty bound thing who could be no more than a weapon sharpened for either side to wield.

‘Fair fair fair - ******** do I adore her.’

He marveled at the way she spoke of the rift, all the different tellings he’d heard of it’s denizens. The wound he felt for how Cybele features twisted over her own retelling, and how he loved her for every word, all over again. His deadly sister in arms. How it didn’t matter if every sharp bit of her was destined to be wielded against him. Darling deer with the most honest of tongues and antlers that aimed at the center mass of the matter.

Speared the hart - spared nothing.

Truth without the downy bedding of kindness that people like Albiero offered.

“I serve a parasite…and I wish I felt bad about it, but Cybs? I just…I don’t. I hear it all from either end, about the sins of one or the other, and I care — ******** do I care, just not enough to change my choice.”

Didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t, and he’d felt anger yes, every time he’d heard of the ill done on one side or the other - felt vengeance and tasted the need to offer retribution on either end. To take names and take lives without so much as a pause; if ever he was given the chance.

Oh, he just, felt oh so many things.

Except bad. He never felt bad.

Reached for guilt and found it lacking, reached for shock and aw and found it all absent; a great void where it could’ve been. Maybe that was the trade off? He got power and a free pass to do what he wished with it - traded in energy like tokens for the prize. Cared little for medals and accolades so long as he could enjoy the benefits of service — build a team - burn a bridge - drop a body into the rift and watch the youma pick it over clean to get at the starseed hard candy within.

To grin for it all.

“Because I get something out of it, don’t I? And ******** me, but at the end of the day — is it bad to want that? Is that evil? To want to be just a little selfish about what I want. Laissez faire with the lives of others. So long as there’s more n’ seven degrees of separation between me n’ them.”

Because he loved people, he did — loved the moment - loved living in the ‘right ******** now’. He couldn’t be like Cybele, couldn’t cling to doing things that made great measures of difference for the good of all, for things that wouldn’t matter later; things that some future Praxidike would undo.

If they survived, If they made different choices. If they were reborn at all.

“I’m sorry then. For how it happens, how they do it — what it takes from you when it’s done — The hole it leaves, and the fact they did it soo ******** poorly that it couldn’tve been filled by anything they offered up. I don’t like forced corruption. I don’t condone it when people bring it up, but you’re right…Every single person it gave us on that fun little hill trip? For all that I gnash my teeth over how stupid it was to get ‘em that way? I also don’t lose a bit of sleep over having gotten them.”

Because he loved them - they became new people to pour himself into. New people to offer up his care for — to keep — to do it right so they wouldn’t end up like Cybele; so they’d stay.

“You’re better people n’ me …that’s what makes you worth a damn to fight.”

That was what made it fun - the thought that dawned on him like a lightbulb. Bright bingo that clicked over to <******** yes’ - Cybele was better then him; by every measure. How that made her such a glorious thing — how it made the thoughts that screamed kill boil up as they sung hot through his blood, writhe dark across his skin…

“Heh, man — I swear, I do love you. N because I love you? I promise not to let ‘em have you. I wish we could’ve known each other before — maybe next time around.”

The tension that had built paramount, how it uncoiled when he moved - tucked himself in and charged Cybele head on. Crack of the cold air snapping where his feet left the pavement; twisted himself to sprint in.

And maybe she’d bash his brains out with a rock — or beat him to a bloody pulp — but if ever they got their hands on her? He wouldn’t let them do her dirty like they’d done before, like they’d done Ochre. He’d see her treated better — dead in a way that was right; instead of a trophy on a wall or shards in someone’s hands.

'Is that consequence you, Cybele? Are you the knife-shaped lesson waiting at the end of my actions?'

What a bitter thought, that she of all people would be the one person on the planet to hold him accountable. That he would inevitably lash out against even that, because what was there to be held accountable for? Because what did it matter - the moments they both cherished, in desperately different ways.

What they fought for until their knuckles were bloody with it. How could any of it really matter - ten - twenty - two-thousand years from now?

When loss - was inevitable.

When Death was a mere checkpoint - a baton being passed.

His friends swapping sides? The people he loved fleeing like rats from a sinking ship, like they knew something he didn't. Like they had better morals than he'd ever wanted; little jimny crickets sitting side conscience to counsel them in things he didn't care about, so long as he got his. How they all said they weren't fleeing him. Not him - her - it! The things they claimed that nebulous 'it' drove them to do. That made it too easy to commit atrocities to the tune of.

Nembus and Thorite. Oh, how he knew there would be more. There would always be more who couldn't stomach the ipecac black syrup of Metalia's power; or was it that they couldn't commit to the acts required of them in order to earn the right to drink it at all? The before - the after - the during.

Was Nembus too soft? 'but then why had she stayed so long'

Was Thorite too sweet? - 'but then why join at all!'

Dissonant sour note, a bad taste in his mouth for thinking about any of it at all. Knowing deep-deep down, that even if he was the last one standing? He might yet still stay. He couldn't give it up. Dying would've been the simpler course, than shedding what he was - all that he was - there was too much of him and he loved himself too much to toss it all to the wind for the sake of ---

Some nebulous OF - all of them brave brave people. Braver then he, when they could toss entier portions of themselves away, all on hopes of moondust and dreams of 'better people with better tomorrows'. He could love them for that; even if he couldn't join them for it.

"Like a circle - a ring." He thought she would've looked lovely with one glittering and set on her finger: as he met her like some magnetized thing, inescapable pull she had on him while he her fists with his own open palms; forearms thrown to block.

Thought Cybele should've rightfully been wed to some vicious thing. She already had the white dress. She just needed....

"Yanno Cyb's! I was wrong about your colors, before. You'd look lovely in Red" Dripping with it. Drenched in it. If it poured, in a waterfall thick torrent from her perfect lips; painted them bright and rosy while rubies fell from the corners of her eyes.

"Choking Retribution."