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New Skills

It was not as easy as she had made it look.

That said, it was not as difficult as perhaps it could have been. Though Autsu lacked a good sense of balance, he had no fear of the thing, nor of the injuries that resulted from practice. He fell much, skinning knees and banging elbows. He did not, however cry.

Of course.

The skateboard itself was a thing of beauty in his mind. It made sense, and it moved with a dreamy grace.

When he wasn't falling off it.

Sometimes, his brother would watch him. He'd see Sethos sitting on the porch steps, Sussare in his lap, and he'd wave at the two of him as he skated by. And then he'd fall again.

His father was remarkably patient with the practice. He bought bandaids. And then he bought first aid kits. But he never told Autsu to stop. Which was good, for Autsu was not quite prepared to tell his father no. And he wouldn't stop.

With practice he got the idea of it. With further practice, he got the feel of it, so that he knew what the board wanted, and the board knew what he wanted, and they could move together. He knew it as he had once known his weapons.

Sometimes, at the crest of a jump, he'd snap open his wings, and glide to the ground, the strain of it making his shoulders burn. It was worth it, to feel something like flight. He could not, of course, fly.

With mastery, came confidence, and while he hid himself in new, baggy clothes, he held his head high, and smiled. This world, this world could be his world.

Someday.

Finding A Purpose

War Council?

On Change

Home, and the door looked like a promise. Saftey, sanity, or even simply denial, Autsu didn't care. He just wanted to stop thinking. Usually, he'd go running. But he had run, had run instead of skated to the bus stop, and arrived panting and exhausted, but still thinking.

Still seeing, still feeling. Kian's tail wrapped around his wrist, and the other boy had felt so warm, close, comfortable.

He hated it. He hated the very thought of it. And Kian... how could Kian even hope to understand what he offered. Kian was the closest thing to a leader he had at the moment. To touch him, to even hope to touch him, was to repeat again the cycle that had brought him here.

More importantly, it would be a rejection of what had brought him here. A denial of the truth he had found only when Narin sat in the circle of his arms. He had had lovers before Narin, but none after, and he had no intention of changing that pattern. Narin had been... was... everything to Esuth/Autsu, had shown him the sort of kindness and connection that he had never even believed in. Narin had saved his heart. Had been his Prince, his seducer, his demon and his god.

How could he turn away from that, even so far as to look at someone else? Someone closer, someone who understood him in ways Narin hadn't, because Narin was, in the end, not a Di', not a soldier, but a prince. In heart, and soul, they had communicated. In thought and conversation they had often argued. Narin, quick tongued, brilliant, practiced, had always won.

His father was setting the table when he entered. A quiet domestic scene, so at odds with the complex tormoil of his thoughts. But Father looked up, met his eyes, and frowned.

"The Lady's light has left your eyes, 'tsu." He stated, still putting forks in their proper place, and folding napkins.

"Yes." The usual objection, the 'I'm fine' that came so easily to his lips, did not make it. "I fight myself."

"A thankless battle." No questions. Father did not ask questions, often. It was part of what made him love the man.

"Yes." Home, he relaxed. His wings hung loose, instead of tight to his back, and his posture eased some. Entering the kitchen, he picked up three glasses, and brought them out to the table. "My body would act without the consent of my mind."

"The body and mind are both tools of the soul. It is there you will find the Lady's wisdom."

"I do not wish Her wisdom." They spoke the both of them, with the simple, measured, and inevitably vague statements that made up the household's unique language. "She wants to change me."

"Yes."

And neither of them said, because it needn't be said, that circumstance had already reformed Di'Esuth into Autsu. Neither of them mentioned that it was to late to avoid the Lady's ever changing paths.

But Autsu thought, as he brought the plates to the table, of the soul.

Hadn't Narin been his soul?

Did that mean he no longer had one?

Unit Member: Kian

(The following is written in Ex'Di'Ne, not Gaian)

Kian. A soldier like me. He's my ****( word here meaning 'one who fights beside me, who I trust at my back with a weapon'). I'm safe with him, and I will guard him, should he need me. I'll kill for him, and not blink. I need that. Someone to serve. That's Di' isn't it? ******** Di' mindset. Service to the Ex'. And he is all the Ex' I have.

I wish he didn't remind me of Narin, or myself. It stains things, somehow. I trusted him for him. And now I compare him to my past. Does that make the trust less earned? No. It's just a thing. That tail. And something in his confusion, that I want to corrupt and protect both at once. What the hell?

He'd be a good fighter, with training. And I could do it. He's not built so differently than most my soldiers. But staying level headed while that close? Isn't that what did it last time? What's wrong with me? Am I twisted somehow? Did something go wrong in my ****(word that means 'time in which I became myself'), that I must screw the guys I admire? I do not want to want Anne.

And it's want, that's all it is. I couldn't do that to him. He doesn't even know about screwing for fun. And that's all I can give. He still has me.

Enough. In short, Kian is the one I trust best. He will lead well, though as an Di' leads, not as a Ex' does. He runs angry, not cold. We will do well by each other. And that is all. We will do well. I will guide an army into ****'s(word for the Di's goddess of death) arms unblinking, for him. Because I think, if he asked it, it would be what must be done.

Autumn's Child

The Goddess's voice in Kniene's mind was distant music, comforting but frusterating. A song played so low one could not quite make out the lyrics, only guess at them. And so he meditated, with the scent of incense in the air, and tried to grasp what path his Lady was pushing him toward, what more he could do. Two children, and still Gaia was lonely with only the whisper of her voice to hold on to.

The boy. A rustling of dried leaves. Blue feathers and dull anger.

Autsu then.

He waited, attempting to understand, to see, to follow. It had been so much easier, when she had stood at his side, and leaned forward to whisper (really whisper) in his ear, sweet strong guidence.

You fail him in the Guard's way. The dance of blades and fists that he'd learned as early as walking, and then intrusive and strange, the scent of gunpowder.

All guards had to learn to fight, to protect themselves against those who weren't of the Autumn People. But it didn't make sense. Autsu was not Autumn's child.

Anger then, like the sharp bite of winter's first winds. He is mine, for he is yours. You will see him trained. My gift. Tell him.

A pause, almost completely bereft of her presence.

He does not like me.

And then she was truely gone.

Unit Member: Lissel

Fluffy. Naive. Easily read. It is hard to think of her as a soldier or a criminal. She's nice, and cute. And small. She reaches about to my elbow. This is no fighter, at least, not as I understand fighters.

Still, she says she was sent here for protecting people. And that is part of what we wish to do. Maybe having someone to temper all the anger is a good thing. It can't all be hatred, and there is no hatred in her. I don't get that. I can't imagine coming here, still remembering, and not hating. I hated even father when I first arrived.

She is comforting, and comfortable. So maybe she'll be the one that keeps the rest of us sane. If there's any hope for that. At least, she's interesting to talk to. She's overly trusting, but not stupid. Just positive. And a positive outlook isn't always bad.

I don't know what to do with her, but Kian says there is a use for the gentle, and I believe him. If nothing else, she's nice to have around.

Autsu dreams a memory, and the memory puts him back in his old body, gives him back height and strength.

They're at a dance, and Narin is radiant, his scales gleaming in the lights that flutter above them on little metal wings. He stands to his prince's left, and Meska is on the right. They walk behind the future king, and watch for trouble. Esuth aches to touch him, hasn't touched him since yesterday, and yesterday they fought.

Fights between them go unresolved, because private moments are so hard to find. Time runs down, and they swallow their words, play their parts. Today, servants everywhere, readying Narin for the ball. And while they could speak freely in front of Meska, they can't in a room full of Ex' politicians. Esuth burns with anger, with hurt and need. He looks at Narin, and the prince is laughing, his eyes bright. Like it never happened.

Narin takes the woman's hand, the filthy hand of some rich Ex's daughter, and Esuth can't quite stop his tail from lashing. Meska looks over, gives him a sympathetic smile, but he just watches. Just watches as they dance, and Narin is the picture of grace, of course he is, the b*****d. He wants to grab the woman; wants to smile into her perfect face, and tell her exactly what those hands that rest so lightly on her scales were doing last night. He hates her because he can't hate Narin, he doesn't know how. He needs him too much.

Dream diverges then, does not linger on a night spent simmering in anger, does not show him the climax of the argument, days later. Does not let him hear the soft words that made things right again. Instead he walks across the dance floor, places a hard hand on the lady's delicate lavender shoulder, and pulls her away from his prince.

And Narin doesn't look shocked, he doesn't pull away. The Ex' don't look toward them, and the woman slinks away, forgotten. They're alone in the ballroom. The lights dim to candles, and fly close. They're dancing. In dreams, it does not matter that Esuth never learned how. He finds all the steps with grace, and the prince is a falcon, all power and perfection.

They dance.

The music comes from everywhere, and they're no songs he's ever heard. They're arguments made into love songs, they're promises translated to rhythm and harmony. They dance, so he doesn't even notice when Narin becomes Kian. In dreams, these things happen so subtly.

The dance becomes sparring, sparring to music, so that each attack and block falls into the beat, and they'd have to read each others minds, to fight so well.

The lights brighten, and this too happens subtly, as do the changes in the room, until they're fighting outside, sun beating down. There's grass underfoot, and low hills surround them, creating a private valley for them to continue circling, playing, dancing, fighting. It's this change that sinks in. This change hits him, because this is where it happened.

Fear, but the rhythm continues. He knows what happens next.

And then they come. He sees them at the crest of the hill. The queens guards, because his own people would never. Because the prince's guards would have refused. And leading them, the traitor.

Kian pulls away. He doesn't fight, he doesn't even speak. He stands, a monument, as Esuth struggles against the men who grab his arms, who begin to drag him away.

And he calls out, "Comrade! Ally!" though he really called out 'Narin! My Prince!', and Kian looks away. And Kian is Narin, but Narin is Kian, and then both of them stand there, side by side, their eyes on the ground, unspeaking.

He wakes struggling, tangled in sheets, and tries to keep from crying.

But he already is.

Unit's Charge: Seveile