Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ganyma had packed his bags full. Any adventure to Chittentown was sure to be an arduous one, as he had learned. The city brought back fond memories for him, but even so being back in the swing of Alternian events was unnerving. The last time he fought, he fought for the rebellion. Now, he was under government watch. He was a bonafide royalist – he’d pledged it to the ALG and had tried to before under suggestion of the rehabilitation center. He’d sold out, and now he was cashing in.

While he was fairly certain that he was in good health, Ganyma had no idea how his sudden realization of powers truly affected his body. He’d done some small tests to see what would trigger the abilities (namely, taking blows in the ring for dramatic effect) but so far he had come out unscathed. Scars healed quickly, and even broken bones mended in shorter time than before. Looking in the mirror, Ganyma couldn’t tell if his broken nose was straightening out or whether his face was just rearranging after so many healed blows to the head. There certainly was the fear that one day, he’d lose his powers and everything would fall apart. His brightmares showed him that much. A free medical check was an absolute necessity! So, he set off.

Chittentown was busy with trolls also taking advantage of the accommodations. Primarily lowbloods, they had all been stuffed to the back of the line, and walking in late even the tealblooded Ganyma didn’t bother to try and cut in front. He simply sniffed and took his place. He fiddled idly with his stuffed backpack strap, but soon tired of his own silence and turned to his companion in line. A scruffy, huge yellowblood. Ganyma adjusted his back and gave him a friendly smile.

“Hey there! You live around here, or just gettin’ a free look over?”

“Oh! Well, there ya go.” Said Ganyma. He put his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Yeah – originally from New Hemisect. Then… Four Fronds after the earthquake,” he explained. Ganyma hadn’t quite gotten that down yet. He gave him a light wave-off with his hand.

As he looked up and down the yellowblooded troll he couldn’t help but notice how unseasonably warm his outfit was, himself. Though, he generally lived in cooler climates. There wasn’t much else to say to him. Ganyma looked for something to talk about. The weather! Of course. “So, how about the—“

Oh wait. The WACKY. The drought. Ganyma buzzed his lips and tried to come up with something on the spot. His eyes darted around. “theeeeee… Horns….” There were trolls here, and they had horns. Word association. “Horns? Horns. How are? Your horns.” Nice. Ganyma grinned.

“Oh, naw.” Said Ganyma, waving him off. “I left on my own. Ain’t nothin’ worth comin’ back to. Ganyma Callow, by the way.”

He sniffed looked about at the rest of the trolls as Reemus continued on. He was already recovered from his awkward statement. “What? Oh, yeah. Well, Alternia’s in a tough place right now, you know?” He relayed. Reemus didn’t seem to be the go-getter type. “Least losin’ an arm ain’t the end of the world. Least for me.”

Ganyma stared ahead. He wasn’t sure if he could recover an arm or a leg. He didn’t plan on trying any time soon. “Glad there’s some recruits here takin’ advantage of prosthetics.”

He put his hands back in his pockets and gave Reemus an off-handed look. “You lookin’ forward to military service?”

Ganyma shrugged. He offered Reemus a friendly smile (continuous at this point) and nodded. There wasn’t much more to say. He was no independent yellow-blood, seeking anything. The large troll was just floating along for the ride, and the free medical aid. Ganyma visibly glazed a bit, his transparency becoming noticeable as the two wore on in line. One troll ahead of them shifted it about a foot, and Ganyma stepped forward.

“Well, alright then,” Ganyma stated. He gave Woofmum a tentative pat on the head before adjusting his pack – keeping food out of reach of lusii could be rather difficult.

Eventually, the crowd seemed to settle. A strange migration of youths and teens alike to the middle of the courtyard drew Ganyma’s attention, and before he knew it the Queen was standing before them. His mouth was slightly agape. Trolls poked their horns out of the medical tents. All activity stopped. All voices ceased – the acoustics between the base and the canyon walls made her orders loud and clear.

Ganyma’s hands clenched tight, and his knuckles began to whiten. His mouth had pressed so hard that a vein in his neck bulged with dangerous intensity. His jaw was tight enough to quiver. Time seemed to pass in sweeps at a time. By the time she was finished, Ganyma had a headache like a screwdriver pressed against his temple. Then, a figure began to speak. A familiar voice washed over him, and he immediately felt ill. Ganyma’s gut was twisted. He stood dumbly.

Long after, the order was set. Un-examined trolls began to shuffle dejectedly towards their stations, and lusii crowded their charges. Mere children paraded enthusiastically after the drones. Ganyma was still.

“I’m—fine!” Ganyma announced. He was not fine. His eyes were sunken, as though the arrangement of his features had somehow transformed within the past few minutes. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, his fingers tapping against his legs.

“Are you doing okay? Not that… Not that you wouldn’t be doing okay, but what are you going to do about this?” Ganyma asked. He had settled into a nervous rattle, his mind working overdrive. The Phoenix Initiative and the oncoming onslaught. His role in it, his role if he didn’t. Would he be culled? Would he be found out – what about Luxara, about the others? His surveillance had been tight since ALG. There wasn’t a way out – or was there? Ganyma’s eyes darted to each exit, currently blocked by drones making sure all trolls present at least contributed to the fray. Back to Reemus now, Ganyma seemed to look right through him. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to Reemus’ potential answer, if he’d given one. Had Reemus answered his question? He wasn’t sure.

“Anyway, Reemus – Reemus? I’m not feeling so well suddenly, must have – must have been buffet. Buffet food. Buffet food from this place,” If anything, Ganyma looked rather ill. His shoulders sunk further as he seemed to look for an escape route. He felt as though his thinkpan was about to explode.

“Ablution blocks, yes…” Ganyma mumbled. He was embarrassed. Rattling on about finding a load gaper for whatever word vomit or anxiety induced spit-up he was about to induce was painful enough – the entirety of the situation was making him lose face in front of a complete stranger.

He looked around, but his vision was distressingly blurry. There was no clear exit. Thinking as fast as he could given the context, Ganyma pointed in a random direction. “There’s one – I’ll see you later, Reemus. Good bye. Good luck.”

He hustled towards the door that he had gestured towards. It was unmarked. But, there was no drone guarding it. With any luck, it would be a hallway or some kind of connecting room to a useful part of the base where he could blow of steam. Ganyma cracked open the door and hesitated a moment before slipping inside. To his misfortune, he had found the nearest janitorial closet. Ganyma’s shoulders barely fit between the shelving. He crammed himself between the mop-water trough and coils of extension cord and sunk to the ground. Ganyma fumbled around in his bag pocket. He produced a mask – full-face, black and grey, with red-tinted opaque lenses. Ganyma was hyperventilating. He slipped the garment over his head and pressed his palms into his eye sockets. His arms wrapped around his knees. Ganyma was a tight ball in the bottom of the army base closet.