Welcome to Gaia! ::

Mistral thought about saying, I'll send them on after you. She didn't think she wanted to go out and… and celebrate… she wanted to stay here, with the dead, in the quiet. Her shoulders slumped minutely, as she thought of the doll that her past self had turned into a killing machine…

"All but one," said Mistral, gray eyes fixed at her knees. "Level Four hasn't come in yet… but I'd be informed if they'd encountered trouble…" She could trust the Code for that much. Couldn't she? Mistral couldn't even meet Falias's eyes as she took the device piece from him, opened the box, and stared at it. Again. So tiny, such a stupidly small thing, but so vital. She wanted to throw it and scream, but she couldn't.

She was supposed to have been better than Raziele. Kinder. But she had been just so mercenary in the end.

Mendel calmed a little at the attention, sitting and flailing his tail back and forth in the ubiquitous dog word for hello friend! But his new friend got up rather sooner than he'd liked… for hugs? That was alright, he supposed, but… His ears slanted back and he bared his teeth at Sarras's aggression, then barked, hackles raised.

"Mendel, hush," Mistral said, her voice decidedly uneven. "Hush, sweetie, it's okay. He's right." She couldn't look up. She studied the small device pieces in her hands, the delicate machining unworn by a thousand years in a tiny space-age metal box. She heard Hvergelmir's voice crack and it was--it was worse than the moment the first rock had crashed into her, worse than anything she could ever imagine. Because Degrasse had been very young. Degrasse had been small and sweet and probably just a high schooler.

She took a deep breath, dried her tears, and said, "He's right. This is my fault. And I am so, so sorry."

Just as Babylon suspected, the group on level six had been met with an absolute massacre, the details of which he could only barely piece together. On level seven, they'd encountered scientific equipment left to moulder and traps meant to deter would-be looters. Raziele might not have expected Mistral to fall to invading Chaos forces, but she'd armed it as if it were a sure thing. On six, it sounded like there'd been some kind of war machine waiting, and it had done as war machines were wont to do.

But getting up to confront Sarras seemed less than keen. He had no history with the distraught page, no knowledge of the hell he'd just come from, and Hvergelmir had the situation well in hand.

"We'll wait," he said, draping an arm around Mistral's shoulders and holding her a bit closer. "I'll give you a ride over." She was light, and he was strong. And he didn't want to leave her all by herself in this labyrinth.

"You couldn't have known what those traps would be," he sighed, rubbing careful circles on her shoulder. "All the floors we explored together were harmless. And nothing activates on you. You asked for help and we answered the call and none of this was your intention or your fault."

They were victims of poor planning and not enough reconnaissance, but Mistral's condition made it hard to do that. Babylon could only hope this whole fiasco hadn't soured them against everyone's good will forever. Perhaps in time...

But, he sighed, perhaps not.

The same Saturn knight from before had not only continued his prattle, but had taken Hvergelmir away from him, and Sarras tried his best to listen to him. He wasn't sure if it was just something that came with all Saturn knights or if his will was simply stronger than his own to be able to say such things to someone who was coated in blood, but Sarras told himself not to attack. He told himself not to retaliate... he already hated Mistral, and he already hated a lot of these knights. He didn't need to create anymore animosity here, he told himself. He curled his fist, but it wouldn't find its way on anyone's face today, even if he felt they deserved it.

The night's solution made him spat, a strained sound, coming from someone who just watched all but one of his team be mercilessly slaughtered before his very eyes. He pointed to Nihfel, being sure to use one finger to do so, if only to add to the insult, before turning away and looking for a rock or soft patch of dirt to sit down on. "People are dead and you're wanting us to sort this out logically? And through alcohol? This Babylon fellow better have some damn good stuff if a few drinks can sort this out."

It was a stupid idea... but damn, he'd go for it. It wasn't as though it would change anything, he told himself... might as well get drunk.

He had it with Mercury knights, to be honest, but he couldn't blame Mimisbrunnr for interjecting. If he had a more clear mind and hadn't just witnessed everything in Level 6, he would have appreciated what she, and even Nihfel were trying to do. But he wasn't able to kid himself. He couldn't just detached himself from what he and Falias had experienced, either mentally or emotionally. Some knight he was...

Still, he held onto his anger. Better anger, he told himself, than sorrow. Like hell any of these people here deserved to see him shed tears. Hvergelmir, perhaps, but she'd be the only one to see such a sight. He glanced up at her from where he sat, tearing off one of his strands and trying in a frail attempt to clean off the blood, though he knew of only one way to get it off of his attire. He couldn't believe that he missed the lavender beneath it...

"Does it matter?" Sarras said, rubbing and rubbing to no effect but it was to keep himself busy so that he didn't lash out physically. He was preening for THEIR sake, he told himself. "Seven. We lost seven. And I won't attack any of you... even if it'd make me feel better, I don't have the strength anymore."

He then let out a sigh, unable to stop the sudden gag as he spat. "Couldn't even take out... a stupid marionette. What chance do I have with the likes of all of you? Don't worry... I ain't attacking no one with these fists or legs."

Falias had stood in silence as he handed over the device piece, had remained silent as the red-haired page yelled at first Mistral and then a nearby Saturn Knight (Niflhel).

He was angry, and part of that anger was at Mistral, but unlike his red-haired companion he didn't yell but instead just stared at Mistral with those glassy green eyes, his silence an accusation in itself.

And then Mistral had yelled out out a comment about it being a doll.

"A doll?" There was a venomous note to his normally cheerful voice. "That thing was supposed to be a doll!" His mind flashed back to the knights who had died in the room, the stick waving Mercury page, the two Mercury high school pages, to the Pluto page whose wallet and ring sat heavy in his pocket. "A toy?! What the hell were you…"

His voice tailed off at the sound of Mistral's sob, his shoulders slumping as he asked in a dull voice "Why?" There was something almost broken about the question, his voice agonised, his eyes once again wet as he continued "Why did they have to die?" And is this communication device really worth the cost, worth the lives taken as toll?

He thought he heard someone mention something about alcohol and was tempted, was very tempted. After all maybe if he drank enough then he'd finally be able to stop seeing their faces.

Why? Mistral didn't ******** know. Raziele's paranoia? Asimov's fears? Mistral herself knew that the labyrinth would have been safe under its hundreds of feet of snow; it had been wiped off the map, out of existence, perfectly preserved in the darkness for a thousand years. "I don't know," she said to Falias. She had nothing else to say. "I didn't want it to be this way."

She accepted the device piece, opened the box, compared it to her blueprints. It was all there, she thought. Every piece on the paper, and even a few copies of the… of the receiver? She thought it might be a receiver.

The page concentrated for a moment, and then they all vanished into subspace. "They died," said Mistral, dully. "They're all dead. You can yell at me all you want, but it will never bring them back."

He didn't bother to power down and back up for a fresh uniform this time, though the Squire didn't regret it all that much. He was freezing and wet, sure, but he was almost used to it already. Almost. Ashur followed along and emerged right on Megiddo's tail, and at the sight he gave a low whistle. "Nice view," he said, looking around for Mistral so he could direct the compliment where it was meant to go. The sight of her crying got him to pay attention to the general atmosphere of the relatively large group of knights that had gathered.

Blood, tears, anger, sadness -- the air was thick with it. Apparently he'd missed quite a bit, and when Mistral announced the deaths any thoughts of being cold and wet left him. He thought they had it bad? People died elsewhere in the labyrinth. Ashur looked on, from Mistral to the others around, even managed a quick wave goodbye to Megiddo who left seemingly without a care in the world about what had happened down there, but he said nothing.

There was nothing to say, really. Mistral was right -- nothing would bring them back anyway. Not a single tear or angry word would do any of those that were lost any good; they were gone, and that was all there was to it. He could express his confusion, concern, even anger if he had any (should he have been angry?), but it wouldn't change a thing. So he kept quiet...