Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Yeah. The one on the desk with the girls, that's my aunt and cousins and me and my brother; the one on the shelf is Mom and Dad and us." Jordan smiled a little. "I had a few days to think about it. Had time to pack a bag. Wasn't going to leave those behind." His expression shifted to melancholy. "Hope my Tia wasn't sad for too long."

His eyes flicked to the healing injury, and he nodded. "Most of us have a little of the crazy," he said. "Some more than others, some better hidden than others."

He rested his elbows on his knees and studied her face. "The thing is, these creatures have faces and voices and personalities, but they feed on humans. The ones that we see in Halloween may not look so awful, but they come to our world to create terror and kill humans. That's how they stay alive. They're predators, and we're their prey. Unlike most humans, though, people with Fear sensitivity can fight back and defend ourselves and others." He laced his fingers together, his eyes solemn and sincere as he spoke. "We may be outnumbered, but for every monster a Hunter takes down, there are many humans, adults and children, who won't have to live in fear of a threat they can barely understand. I think that's worth doing."

Jordan laughed without humor. "If you need a less abstract reason, something more solid than idealism, I can provide that too; your family's not looking for you, you're legally dead. We no longer exist in the world outside, and we don't have the option to go back. Which I realize," he added, "isn't terribly convincing for my not-a-cult argument, but that's a moot point."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Hunters don't retire. Once you bond, you'll die in combat or sleep the rest of your life in a pod. It's your choice as to whether you waste what you have now or not." Then he sighed. "For what it's worth, I'd mourn you. This is what we chose - what I chose - and I'm choosing to dedicate myself to it. Is that useless, or a waste of life? Maybe, but I refuse to believe that."

Jordan sighed again. "It's a practical concern. If someone's relatives are running an intensive search for them in the belief that they're still alive, it's going to be very hard for them to take on any missions in a wide area around where they lived. As it is, we're not allowed to return to where we came from. We're dead. We can't go back."

"I wouldn't be happy to find out that you were gone," he said gently. "It's probably smarter not to get attached to anyone, because any mission could be your last. But I'd rather care than not care. What you make of what you have, that's up to you."

She's not taking it well, Ferros said.

I don't think she understood what she was accepting. Too late to change her mind now, though.

"Maybe," Jordan said, and thought a little guiltily about his own reaction to the realization that he might not have much time left, himself. Was he rationalizing? Probably. That wasn't something to think about now. "I think it's a reminder that there's something to live and fight for, too. If you have connections, if you care about people and they care about you, you're more likely to keep going and keep trying." He fell silent for a few moments, reflecting. Then he said, "Sorry to be so blunt about it. But I think you needed to know."

"We - the Strays, I mean, the group I woke up with - weren't told until a good six months had passed," Jordan said quietly. "Here, you can have a day off the island to go Christmas shopping, here's your ID card with your fake name, oh by the way you're officially dead. I would have preferred to know up front. It wouldn't have changed my decision, but being kept in the dark pisses me off."

Ferros rumbled. I am here.

I know. Thanks. Aloud, he said, "We may not have a choice about backing out, but everyone's reason to keep going is their own. Kind of like life anywhere, I guess; you find some kind of reason and you use it to keep yourself on track."

"I hope so." Jordan left it at that; dwelling any further on what either of them had left behind wouldn't do any good. It was up to Ofelia now to make her peace with the facts. Or not, but he hoped she could come to terms with it. Had he chosen the wrong approach? Maybe. No way to know.

"Almost a year," he answered. "It was pretty rough at first, honestly."

"It's dangerous; I won't tell you that it's not." Jordan watched Ofelia steadily. "But you're learning and getting better. I think your odds are pretty good."

He considered the question. "It took some getting used to," he admitted. "But after a while, it just stopped being weird. Except for the occasional patch of really bizarre stuff here and there," he added, and laughed. "But after a while it just becomes normal, for lack of a better word."

Makes sense to me. Jordan kept that thought to himself, though. No use offending her accidentally. He smiled amiably instead. "If you've got questions or concerns, you can text or come around, all right?"

"A request?" He arched an eyebrow curiously. "Ask away."