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Writ had hoped the boat would be big; because the crowd of people, supernatural entities and otherwise, seemed to be a bit too large for the boats that the dog-headed man (Which at this point Writ assumed was this Anubis guy that everyone kept talking about) had provided. Whatever the case was, he came over with the two essentials needed for a trip- good music and enough alcohol to turn this boat ride into a booze cruise.

Of course Writ was sad of his city turning into a crater. He had a feeling that he played a part in all this- he had underestimated the lengths at which the Blacksuits would go to cover up his godly pursuits, but he didn't think they'd nuke a city outright. All he could do to make it up to the survivors was to buy the drinks.

Alcohol was good for coping.

If Valeriu felt anything besides cold, hard anger, his expression didn't show it. Before heading towards the docks, he'd wrapped up his affairs - packed up the last of the family belongings, now crammed into Tezcatlipoca's personal realm with no small amount of complaint from the god; bid farewell to his coworkers under the pretense of quitting to attend a formal educational institute, hands clasping hands and withstanding the hearty pats on his back and the guileless and ignorant smiles of the people he'd grown to know and care for; visited the Carnegies to offer the brothers a chance to come, only to find with mixed relief and fury that Seamus was already in the Game and had been hiding it from him, but that their large family already had tickets to Central.

And now here he was, abandoning his City in favor of survival. Leaving behind his parents, his history.

Seamus and Murphy had been quick to squirrel away, out of sight, knowing Valeriu was in no mood to talk with either of them. Quinn had disappeared, to, only leaving Writ nearby in a sea of potential and actual enemies as Valeriu eyed the promoted Seth with no small amount of caution.

His jaw clenched, shoulders bristling under the imagined glare of the City rising behind him, but other than that showed little malleability to his expression, Sydni's hand held firmly in his as the girl looked around in curiosity at the huge group of people.

"Where we goin'?" she finally piped up, turning her heart-stopping blues up to him.

"A boat ride," he answered, hefting her up into his arms and leaning against the rail behind him.

"I know that." She sounded peeved. "To where?"

"A new home. V'here you can play v'ith Bobby all day, and meet lots of new people."

The scowl on her face said, quite clearly, she didn't want to go to a new home.

"-There v'ill be ice cream," he added.

"Ice cream?"

He sighed. "Yes. Ice cream. V'ith sprinkles."

"Oh." She seemed more receptive to the idea, now. "Okay."

This was going to be a hard trip.

This was no place for a meltdown, she didn't need to show any weakness to the other godlings, even if they might understand at this moment, and she blinked back tears. She should have warned them, made them come with her but no, she hadn't.

She was all alone now, had condemned her family to death, and now, was running away. She fiddled with her backpack, knowing that the only link she had left of her family was zipped inside. Still, there was no going back now.

Padma sighed, and glanced about the ship, hoping to see someone she recognized. There were a few, not that she had really met many godlings before now, but they all seemed to be in their own private worlds, and who was she to be the first one to interrupt that.

The last few weeks had been rather rough for Faylen.

Ever since his run in with his mother and subsequent visit with his sister, he'd been steadily withdrawing, tossed about in a state of turmoil. This reclusive nature was counterbalanced with bouts of extroversion- such as his obtaining a paper route (under the tables, given the fact he was twelve at best and most people were not fond of violating child labor laws) or visiting the pet shop to become accustomed to the animal side of his goddess (he still didn't much like snakes). The spontaneous walks and trips to the playground seemed constantly at odds with the days he'd come right home after work and go directly into his room and read or, more recently, just...sit for hours.

It didn't help that his mind was being pulled in a thousand different directions. Alone. With people. Work. Stagnation. Powers. Gods.

To be truthful, though, he had been in a slow, steady decline ever since leaving home. It had been a ticking time bomb to when he could hide the feelings anymore and entirely broke down from them. He'd experienced much more than most children had to ever dream of handling and it took a toll. How do you deal with never being able to go home? How do you deal with your sister begging you to come back with tears in her eyes and having to tell her 'no' because of the danger- and the freak- you've become? How do you deal with being shot at? They never taught you this stuff in school.

Nor did they teach you how to deal with the nuclear annihilation of your city.

Some people might be lucky enough to handle this whole 'godling' thing well. Some people had good support networks. Faylen had...well, not a lot. He sort of had his sister and he sort of had Mr. Quinn. Though he had much less of Mr. Quinn between him working and hanging out with Mr. Vale and Mr. Writ and the others. Faylen knew, if he asked, he could probably hang out with them too...but Big Kids didn't want to deal with Little Kids. He didn't want to be a burden.

He hated being a burden. Even now he edged his paltry family group towards where he saw Quinn, Writ and the others. But...he stayed back and didn't harass the others for the most part. He was all shakes and trembles, face looking so terribly pale, raccoon-like dark circles wringing worried eyes. He was wearing a watermelon-pink hoodie his sister had gotten him and the enveloping fabric made him seem even smaller than he usually was. He clung to the straps of his little backpack, crammed full of clothes, books, and even some food.

He could hear the faint brushes of his goddess' voice brushing across his mind, but he paid little attention, simply staring ahead in a shell-shocked manner, picking and chewing at cracked and bleeding cuticles.

This...wasn't happening.
It was a dream.
He'd wake up tomorrow and it would be fine.

It would all be fine. He'd get up, run his paper route, give the counters a wipedown, make some lunch in case Quinn or his sister came home to eat...maybe try to move the couch again (the couch was always in the wrong place. He could clean and reorganize the entire house a million times but that couch was always in the wrong place). It would be fine.

It would be...

His lip trembled. It wasn't fine and never would be. But he tried hard- so hard- not to think of it all. Everytime he started too, he could feel panic rising in his chest. He didn't want to panic. He'd just bother everyone.

And being a bother...was almost as bad as being a burden.

It seemed like she wasn't the only one having problems, and she paused for a moment before moving over Faylen. He seemed to be alone like she was, no family left to speak of, and she thought that maybe he might like some company.

"Hey?" she said gently, trying to be reassuring. "Mind if I join you over here?"

It wouldn't bother her if he said no. She could understand that, but he looked like he was hurting and there was no reason why he should be alone. Especially not now, not when almost everybody else seemed to have brought their families with them. She didn't have any family either, so maybe, for the moment, they could be orphans together.

Alison and Leroy were just a bit nervous about this boat ride. Considering that the captain Anubis, and that the boats looked at home in Hades more than they did in actual reality. But Writ assured them that there wasn't anything to worry about. There were gonna be other families of normal people there too, along with their god-touched children. Writ's parents shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They were in a boat where even their own son was a total stranger.

Writ pulled himself on the boat, after giving the city a stare for one last time. He knew what he was leaving behind; but he didn't dwell on it for too long. Writ had left a life he had loved years ago. He could leave a city of memories just as easily.

That didn't stop him from tearing up though, even if it was just a little. Writ wiped his eye and got on the boat.

It was good to see the familiar faces in the boat. Vale and Quinn, of course, as well as a motley of newbies and a couple more experienced players. It was hard to believe that they were going to be what was left of Southern.

"You know." Writ said, as he sat next to his parents, "I think this is the first time, I've actually been on a boat. Kinda sad why though."

"'Kinda sad'?" Leroy couldn't believe how nochalantly Writ was taking the whole thing, "People are gonna die, and all you can say it's 'Kinda sad'?"

"What do you want me to say? It's not exactly easy to deal with something like this. If I could, I'd probably drag the whole damn city into this boat. I mean, it is magical and all that."

Leroy frowned, "God, I can't believe that the government would nuke a city to kill a bunch of fairy tales."

"Hey, these fairy tales are saving your a**, you should be grateful."

Leroy went back to looking towards the city.

Writ's ears twitched when he heard Kyle, "Hmm." He tilted his head, "You seem familiar, have we met somewhere?"

Quinn grinned at Sydni and hugged her tight, standing up and spinning her around, taunting Vale with the dangerousness of the movement. He rested her on his hip, and moved over to Faylen and his new friend, mood immediately lightened. He used his free hand to ruffle Faylen's hair, and placed his hand on the boy's opposite shoulder.

"Fayby!" He exclaimed, inflecting it like 'Baby', "What's up?" He frowned at the girl.

"Who's the chick?"

He was never good at being nice to women. Except Sydni, who he tickled to watch her giggle with the hand that was holding her, clamping down on her squirms.

His smile was only a little faked.

He had some people. He had Faylen. He had Sydni. They were like his family.

Kind of.

Now that Kyle had gotten some attention, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He actually did remember Writ; the ears were a dead give away. But it seemed Writ didn't remember, or just couldn't see Kayla in her new form. Kyle considered acting like they'd never met, as Loki would have. But given the circumstances, Kyle wasn't up to playing games. Besides, if Writ felt there was something familiar about Kyle, there was always the chance he'd figure out her/his real identity.

"Yeah, we've met, Mr. Doggie." Kyle replied, Writ's nickname bringing the first smile to Kyles face for several days. "It's nice to see you again. I wish it could have been under happier circumstances."