Welcome to Gaia! ::

With her quote handed over to General Xithrasite, Fluorapatite was ready to head home for the night. It was late and she had already been out patrolling the last four evenings straight—all she desired right here and now was a hot shower and bed.

The migraines had been less intense these last few days and she attributed some of that to the change in temperate as the weather shifted to fall. She couldn’t recall ever being that affected by the heat before but dehydration was definitely a real thing.

She stretched her arms above her head, heard her back pop in a way that actually brought a ton of relief, and pulled from her a sigh. Thoughts of powering down crossed her mind as she strolled down the empty street. That is until she felt a signature feather on the edge of her senses.

It was faint yet unmoving and before she could turn the opposite way- the phantom voice whispered in the back of her mind.



Fluorapatite staggered. Leaned her shoulder against the brick wall while she pressed the heel of her palm against her temple. “Why…” Her quota for the week was complete, she had done her due diligence and even turned in extra from the effort she had put into it. Why did these damn thoughts demand more of her rather than allow her a slight reprieve and much-needed rest?



The thoughts repeated and she grit her teeth defiantly. “Damn Metalia!” Fluorapatite hissed just before a lancing migraine flared to life once more. Punishment for such words and she immediately regretted thinking them. The more she struggled, the longer she lingered, and the worse the pain became until she saw halos around lights and felt short of breath.



“For Metalia,” she repeated obediently and stood.

The first few steps were unsteady but as she moved towards the signature, the pain ebbed into a lingering awareness should she turn away. Soon she saw who the signature belonged to, a young woman, a Squire, standing on the edge of a rooftop looking down on two strangers. A dark smile tugged the corner of her lips as she teleported the remaining distance so that she stood on the other side of the roof from the knight.

Fluorapatite canted her head to the side in an almost curious fashion, or amused perhaps; it was unclear.

The whispered voice in her mind demanded action but she had been asked a question and it would be rude not to respond. Her lips pulled into a smile but no humor reached those pink-quartz and jade-colored eyes. They looked like honed gemstones, lackluster and almost void of life. Even her response sounded flat.

“If you’re offering, energy would be nice.” Her gaze shifted from the Squire over to the edge of the building where murmurs of a conversation could be heard from street level. “Yours, or theirs,” Fluora rolled her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. “Doesn’t matter much to me.”

But it did. Energy from a knight would always be preferred over a mere civilian’s. They were, after all, enemies.