[AW] 'I' am also a 'We'

[Erd]

ERD

A cold wind blew.
 
It was a sudden, drastic turn from the hot summer day and the cloudless afternoon sky that shone upon the Susurro Fields. Dark, billowing clouds rolled in on the wind, gathering and clumping about within the sky, so thick and dark that they blotted out the sun. Gusts of cold air tousled dry grasses and brittle leaves, the limbs of trees swaying and groaning with the sudden shift of atmosphere.
 
A sense of unease grew, of uncertainty. Finally, rain began to fall in great sheets, pattering the still-hot earth and creating pockets of rising mist. The smell of rain was heady and pungent, the scent of dirt, ozone, and fear on the wind.
 
Suddenly, something in the air shifted. A loud ’snap!’ echoed across the land, before a rip in the world seemed to open. It was a tear, a void, a portal, opening feet above the grassy field. Two figures tumbled out and landed in a heap, breathless and terrified. The portal slowly knit itself shut before disappearing entirely, and with its departure the rain let up, the clouds parted to reveal the sun, and the summer heat once more returned.
 
It all happened in minutes. Maybe less.
 
One of the figures shifted where he lay in a wretched heap, stretching out as he tested his limbs, downy white wings splaying as he checked the appendages for damage. Nothing. No breaks or pains, other than from the side he had been unceremoniously dumped on. A groan left dark lips, eyes fluttering open to reveal the color of vivid turquoise. Immediately he winced against the bright sunlight, rolling to try and get lean legs tucked underneath him. All of his limbs felt like rubber, so he simply lay upon the earth for a while longer, attempting to get his bearings.
 
“Ard?” He croaked out, concern coating his words. “Ard?” A grunt of displeasure was his only response. Erd grinned, breathless and boyish. “Yeah, yeah.”
 
As the world began to stop spinning, Erd’s narrowed eyes regarded where they had been abandoned. This place… This was not the rebel camp. It didn’t look even remotely close to the rebel camp, or even Luminous in general. Where shouts and curses had been echoing through the air before as he and Ard had frantically focused their magic to create a portal, there was nothing but silence here. It was almost too loud, his ears ringing at the sheer nothingness of it all. They were no longer in a frozen mountain pass, but instead a wide, open field, full of brittle grasses and the smell of moisture on the wind. Had it been raining? But the sun was hot and burning in the sky. He didn’t understand.
 
Feeling a bit more confident in his strength, Erd slowly began to unfurl his legs. With a grunt, the warlock slowly pushed himself upright, swaying slightly, but was able to stand. He turned to the grey and taupe figure still laying in the damp grass at his side. "Are you okay?"
 
As peaceful as this place was, they had to ensure that they were safe. Escaping capture only to end up the slaves of whoever called this place home wasn’t an option.

[Ard]

ARD

Ard remembered a fear so palpable he could taste it.

He remembered the feeling of terror that had raced through his veins, freezing reason and instinct. The desperation, cloying and all-consuming. The emotions had been mirrored in Erd, yet his brother had not let up on their task, his focus unwavering; open the portal, escape Luminous. Escape Vreis. That was their goal. Ard was the bottomless well, Erd was the conduit. Together they could do it. Only together.

Yet the shouts had scared him, angry and dangerous, promising so much pain. It had altered his focus, caused him to tremble, to balk, to press closer to his brother’s side. He was so scared.

'Erd.' Terror had coated his voice, rough as a rasp from disuse. They’re coming.

They were close, the twins. Perhaps closer than most. Erd knew his fears and his doubts, and the feeling of his trust and his love had poured into Ard’s soul, warm and comforting and beautiful. Their focus shared, their task known, the portal had opened before Vreis and his men could stop them. Together they had jumped, uncaring what may await them.

And now?

’Ard?’ Erd’s voice, cutting through the terrible ringing that echoed in his ears. ’Ard?’ He didn’t want to move. His side ached from where he had landed painfully upon his right wing, the appendage of alabaster feathers tucked awkwardly beneath his petite frame. Despite the discomfort, he was content. They were safe. A displeased grunt was the only answer he cared to give his twin.

The sound of grass shifting and popping beside him alerted him to Erd’s movements, but the younger warlock had no intentions on standing or moving about yet. Instead, he simply shifted and stretched out his pinched wing, letting the feathers splay out. The joints of his wing would surely be sore for a few days after the way he had landed on it…

Turquoise eyes opened only to narrow against the harsh sunlight, but even as Erd began to stand and get his bearings, Ard remained upon the earth. From his position he could still assess the world, and so that was what he did. A field of grass spread out around them, the countryside dotted with trees full of leaves. The sky was a bright blue and the sun was hot, but it was warm and comfortable. Still, Ard knew that lingering could be dangerous. It was only after his brother’s inquiry, however, that he pushed himself up and to his full height, wobbling precariously upon unsteady legs. Erd’s concerned look was enough to persuade another grunt, this one of an affirmative. He was fine, just sore.

The warlock’s gaze sought out his brother, bumping his muzzle against Erd’s alabaster shoulder before focusing once more on where they had been deposited. “Where?” Simple, precise, his voice still scratchy and rough as gravel. He could feel Erd’s answer, a silent ‘I don’t know’. Wherever they were now, whatever might await them could be better or worse than Vreis’ treatment. Only time would tell. Despite that, however, they still had each other, and that was all that mattered.

@Marisol or @Atreus or anyone else who might want to hop in?

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

They eat at her, the memories of the festival, as she walks. 

In Marisol’s head plays looping images of torches and candlelight, of flowers tied with ribbon and wax, of the bodies that she pushed through, so callous, so uncaring, and would never see again - it eats at her, physically, a sharp, hot gnawing in the pit of her stomach.  The Dusk Court is a prison now. After that disastrous meeting with Florentine, the whole of Terrastella has descended into quiet and gloom. When citizens pass each other in the streets they look away, only mumbling their hellos; the Court itself is silent and unwalked, the streets empty in the darkness of an unexpected summer storm. 

How strange, she thinks, to love something. If even briefly.

The coolness permanent on her features is the sharp-edged work of a desperate illusionist, one so good at her work that it is natural now, that she has grown poor at recognizing her own discomfort. Now is one of the few moments in which she analyzes herself and finds that discomfort obvious. A freezing wind blows overhead as Marisol draws to a pause at the edge of the field, at when she sees the blackness of the sky ripping itself in two, the bodies that tumble to the ground as a sharp snap echoes across Terrastella: she looks inside herself and is afraid, and that, of all things to know about herself, is the worst. 

Still, her composure does not flicker. Her stare across the sea of grass is nothing but cool. For a moment, she does not move, just watches: poised in a half-step, wings pressed tightly to her ribs, the blunt crop of her hair barely moving in the wind. A statue. Then she catches the movement of one of those broken silver bodies, and in one swift movement powers herself straight up into the air.

Since childhood flying has comforted her, and despite the vicious bite of the cool air, the frost that starts to touch her skin, the heartbeat that has gained painful speed inside her chest, some part of her is soothed by unfurling those spotted hawks-wings, the familiar motion of soaring above the ground. The dirt rushes away beneath her. A blur of brown and green, and she reaches the pair in less than a minute, but does not land. Like a predator she hovers momentarily above them, observing: identical faces, eyes, faint luminous glows, same stench of fear. Blue and silver and white. And strange. 

She lands heavily, suddenly, hooves slicing deep into the dirt. Her wings are still unfurled - held perfectly poised at their full width away from her sides, the brown-and-white spotted feathers ruffled barely, gently, by the breeze. Around them the world is cool and dark and utterly, utterly silent, and Marisol is a strange, divine effigy, tall and stoic and proud, gazing down at the boys with those bright gray eyes as she says, nonchalantly: Hail Vespera.

A beat passes. She thinks, for a moment, about societal courtesy. I am Marisol, comes her brief, raspy introduction, and then she falls silent, silent as usual.

@Ard @Erd

[Erd]

ERD

There was an intimate touch to his shoulder after Ard had slowly gotten upright and found his footing, and Erd turned his head to offer his brother a hopefully reassuring grin. “It’s okay.” The confirmation and reassurance came instinctively and without thought. Ard was uncomfortable. He could see it in his brother’s expression, carried in the tension of his shoulders and the crease of his brow. He could feel it, as well, a brimming pool of uncertainty and worry building within a special place behind Erd’s heart. Oftentimes, they knew what the other was feeling or experiencing even if there was distance between them. A ‘sixth sense’, as it were, a unique bond experienced by only a rare few. “We’ll be alright. I promise.”

They had to be, right? Nothing could be worse than the cruelty they had experienced in Luminous.

“Come on. We should poke around a little, maybe find out where we are.” Ard only gave him a look before nodding in silence. It was as good a plan as any, and really, what else did they have to go off of? Not much, if he were being honest. Erd took a moment to stretch out his wings, testing them once again for pain. There was none, luckily, and the young ivory Pegasus gave himself a good shake to rid the lingering effects of the portal they had traveled through before taking a few steps forward.

Before they could make much progress at all, a dark, airborne figure steadily approached. It was far too large to be a bird even as it wheeled about elegantly within the sky, but Erd knew what it was immediately. A Pegasus. A stranger. The warlock glanced towards his brother, sharing a knowing look before rolling his shoulders and drawing himself up to his full height. They may be small in stature, but they were a quick and dangerous unit when paired together. Never mind their magic… Really, anyone would be out of their mind to mess with them, and Erd knew he spoke for both he and Ard when he said that they were sick and tired of being taken advantage of.

“Hold your ground, brother.” Ard was tense beside him, and Erd did his best to remain calm even as the earthly colored Pegasus whirled about in the air, before cresting downwards at a speedy arc and coming to a sliding stop shortly before them, kicking up dirt and grass. Her posture did not relax, and that was immediately put him at unease. Broad speckled wings of white and brown reached outwards at their full span, an unnecessary display of prowess that he, a victim of war and unnecessarily violence, did not appreciate.

As a result the two petite grey’s pressed closer together, but Erd would not let himself be daunted. His eyes, a cautious, nearly glowing turquoise, roamed over the deep bay woman who had landed, and assessed her. She was far taller than the twins, but that was nothing new. They were used to being the smallest around. The woman carried herself tall and proud, like Vreis, and there was a calculating chill to her pale grey eyes. A soldier? Maybe a sell-sword?

Then, her words. ’Hail Vespera.’

A chill went down Erd’s spine and once more he shared a look with Ard. His brother was glaring at the bay, clearly distrustful. Who was Vespera? The lord or lady of the land? A threat? Yet another tyrant upon a long list? Had they made a mistake coming here? Answers, unfortunately, could not be found by silence.

The lady went on, introducing herself in a raspy undertone that reminded him of Ard whenever his brother decided to speak. ’I am Marisol.’ A name. Okay, so… That was progress, right?

Clearing his throat, Erd decided to answer, head lifting and curiosity shining in his ocean eyes despite his wariness. “… I’m Erd,” he introduced, then nodded his head to his twin, “This is Ard. We, uh… Where are we?” Simple and to the point. That was also good, right? The sooner they found out where they were, the sooner they could make plans on where they would go. Hopefully they would find somewhere safe, somewhere that would welcome them. Maybe, dare he think it, they might even find a home.

What a wild idea.

[Ard]

ARD

There was something that took over Ard as he stood pressed against his brother’s side, turquoise eyes narrowed dangerously up at the whirling form of darkness that skirted the breeze above them, ears pressed flat against his skull and teeth bared like a threatened canine. A Pegasus, like them, yet he felt no form of recognition or familiarity. This was a stranger, and a potentially dangerous one. He did not appreciate how it circled above them like a bird of prey might do before making a kill, and Ard’s petite body was coiled with the tension to either fight or flee.

She landed in a rather dramatic, yet forthright display, uncaring for the earth that snagged or impeded her halt. The bay, rich and deep and dark as earth, peered at them through cold, icy grey eyes, and Ard found that he could not hold the weight of her stare. That look was too much like Vreis’ unforgiving glare, and unbidden, the boy of alabaster and taupe began to tremble. They were too similar in stature and appearances, this crop-haired woman and their former ‘master’.

He isn’t here. He’s not here. He’s gone. Don’t think about him, don’t think, don’t think.

Despite his best attempts a masculine whisper echoed in his ear, sickeningly sweet and filled with a promise of pain. ’You sound so pretty when you beg.’ Ard shivered, then swallowed hard, pressing closer into Erd’s comforting presence. Ocean eyes clenched shut, refusing to open, wanting to hide from the world and the stranger’s intense, calculating stare.

’Hail Vespera.’ The voice snapped him out of his internal terrors, and Ard’s gaze shot upright to focus upon the large female standing at attention before them. Who? Vespera? The name meant nothing to him. The young warlock shared a look, deep and knowing, with his brother. It seemed that Erd did not recognize the name either, judging by his baffled expression. ’I am Marisol.’ Her voice was nothing like Vreis’, and that alone was… Nice? It helped differentiate the two. Militaristic, stoic, and stern though this woman seemed to be, of course.

Remaining silent, Ard allowed Erd to do the talking. As always, his brother wasted no time in introducing them to the winged mare named Marisol or asking just where it was they had landed. Good. That was a good question. Hopefully they could get it all sorted soon enough, and either hang around should Marisol prove to not be a threat, or move on.

@Marisol - <3

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

Marisol has dealt with fear, of course, in other people. The Halcyon unit is a painful, terrifying cause to be devoted to, and she is no stranger to the pressure it lays on people’s shoulders, the fear that is palpable in everyone’s eyes when it comes right down to the gritty bones of war, when blood starts gushing, the world goes dark - and somehow, although they are standing still and unattacked, these strangers are in the midst of battle, and they are scared. The way they lean against each other for support, the distrust that is eminent in those perfectly matched turquoise eyes. Slowly she folds her wings in to fit against her ribs; militarism in the face of refugees seems crass.

The breeze above them still blows cool and sharp. Marisol makes an effort to steel herself against the bite of it and manages, mostly, to suppress her shivers. The storm has thrown her off-guard. This is Terrastella’s first cold weather in months, and of course her pelts are at home, her knives, everything but the empty lace fleece on her back leg, which she feels as loudly as an extra appendage. An ear flicks forward to catch the twins’ subtle introduction. I’m Erd… this is Ard. Something disbelieving crosses her face. Ard and Erd -strange names for strange boys. She forces her brow to still, pushing it back from its involuntary raise, and dips her head to them in a calculated greeting, those gray eyes never leaving the strangers in front of her. They might seem harmless, but Marisol is not quite stupid enough to take them at face value; never mind their background, she thinks, or the fact that they look utterly helpless. Danger still lurks here, in the simple fact that they are still strangers.

We, uh… where are we?

The dreaded question. Marisol rolls it over her tongue for a moment. What to say. She’s never seen anything else, so how can she tell them the comparatives, what differs in their culture, what dangers are imminent that they have not seen before? And what words are revelant, what words will not be a waste - even Marisol, her speech usually so cool, so economic, is at a loss.

 Thunder cracks overhead, and her wing jerks slightly. Mari raises her head back to its usual height. Seeking shelter seems wise. Her voice, that low, raspy mumble, is all but drowned by the quiet hum of rain building overhead and the wind that rushes by them, baleful and insistent. They don’t have reason to trust her, she knows, but they also don’t have much of a choice except to sit out the impending storm if they turn her down. Boom - again. She takes a quick step toward the pair, short and efficient, just to help her voice carry. You are in Novus, in the Dusk Court, Terrastella. The words will mean nothing to them. Marisol is fully aware, but what else can she say, how can she explain it - none of it will make sense, not for a long while, she’s guessing. 

Some part of her feels almost guilty for being so bad at this. Marisol hitches her breath on an inhale and holds it. Gods help them both, she thinks, and shutters her silence.

@Ard @Erd

[Erd]

ERD

There really was no way to know just what to expect.

Erd could fight. Despite his small size, he was quick and precise. He had fought a lot when they were in the manipulative grasp of Vreis and his rebel army. It wasn’t that he liked to. Quite the opposite, really. War was pointless and a waste of life. He, like his brother, preferred the route of the pacifist. Unlike Ard, of course, Erd would willingly get his hooves dirty if the stakes were high enough. Back in Luminous, with his twin’s safety at the forefront of his mind? Oh, the stakes had always been high enough.

Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to fight this militaristic woman who had so brazenly approached them. Why would he? Unless she was a threat, which… Despite her cold, blank, rather formidable expression, and the iciness to her sharp gaze, Erd wasn’t picking up on anything remarkably threatening about her. She seem quiet in the same way Ard was, choosing to not speak unless it was absolutely necessary. Even as she took a step closer, her posture rigid and practiced, Erd found his fear easing up. Ard, on the other hand, only pressed tighter to his side with a warning growl at the woman.

In that small, intimate spot behind his heart, he could feel his brother’s distress and fear. He could feel Ard’s insecurities and anxieties, and as though with a delicate caress, pressed his own reassurance down upon that nearly cloying feeling.  The tension in his brother’s shoulders seemed to lessen, but his eyes, oh, his eyes, practically dripping venom and glowing with warning, were rooted upon the liver bay’s form. Erd knew that his brother loathed battle, but he hoped that the younger warlock’s fears did not spur him into action.

Then, Marisol spoke. Her gruff voice once again filled the silence, and Erd listened raptly. Shelter? Oh, right. The silver colt glanced about, taking in the scenery once more. It seemed that the storm that had arrived with their portal, which sometimes happened as an after-effect of their magic usage, was not through with terrorizing the local land. “Uh. Sure.” But Marisol went on, describing exactly where they were. None of it made sense to him, and he didn’t even need to exchange a look with Ard to know that his twin also had no idea where ’Novus’, the ’Dusk Court’, or ’Terrastella’ were. Giving a shrug of a shoulder, Erd braved a step forward through the grass, offering Marisol a somewhat crooked smile. “Lead on, then. To… Wherever it is. Terrastella? The Dusk Court? Is that where we are, or…? Wherever we’re going?”

Then, he glanced to Ard with that same smile. “I think we’ve found someone who’s just as riveting a conversationalist as you, my dear brother,” Erd teased quietly, his words clearly meant for only Ard’s ears, and there was no missing the irritated roll of twin turquoise eyes in response. As he took another step closer to Marisol’s much larger body, Ard eventually followed, lingering just the slightest bit behind. It would be clear to anyone who spent even a moment in the twins’ presence that Erd was the leader, and his brother the follower.

“So, uh. Marisol, right? Are you a soldier for Terrastella? Who’s Vespera? Are they your ruler?”

[Ard]

ARD

Even as his brother began to warm up to the lady-soldier, Ard was hesitant to do so. Why should they trust her? What if she was no better than the people of Luminous? While she wasn’t dripping false promises or acting overly welcoming, Ard still had his transgressions about her behavior, about her intentions. Perhaps it was just in his nature to not trust anyone save his brother.

Who could blame him?

Instead of saying much at all, the younger twin allowed himself to be lead along by Erd’s insatiable curiosity. Clearly Erd was growing more comfortable here, which was all fine and dandy for him. Even with that internal bond that they shared, in that private little place behind their hearts where they could feel each other’s emotions and nearly read each other’s thoughts, and the way that Erd so cleverly pressed his comforting persona down upon Ard’s own fears, it wasn’t enough. He just couldn’t trust her.  Not yet.

Yet the warlock knew that they needed to seek shelter, and that this Marisol was the only one who could lead them there. The storm might blow over. It might not. Regardless, with the freezing wind nipping at their small bodies, it wasn’t worth risking sickness or even death, especially when surrounded by a strange land that they knew nothing about.

So, as Erd began to approach the looming, intimidating mare of rich brown and icy eyes, Ard inevitably followed. He clearly wasn’t happy about it, with his grey lips set in a deep frown, brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t about to be left behind.

His brother’s hushed comment caused turquoise eyes to roll, and had they been alone, he would have bit back with his own scathing retort. As it were, of course, his lips remained shut and sealed, his voice forever locked away at the back of his throat. No one would hear it. No one but Erd.

Idiot. The word was still thought with an undertone of endearment, fondness filtering through their shared bond. It was enough to earn him a wide grin from his brother, and Ard found his uncertainties begin to lessen. Together they drew up to the taller Pegasus, with her regal build, athleticism, and broad, bespeckled white wings. She was intimidating, this Marisol, and Ard couldn’t help but wonder just what her role here was.

@Marisol

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

For a moment Mari stands statuesque, waiting for something to change. For them to flinch at her step forward, to lash out, to say something bitter and fearful and violent. Surely they cannot trust her already. Her poise is almost militaristic, muscles locked and pulse insistent in her chest. She would be a fool to let her guard down. And still somehow Marisol feels guilty for the fear that emanates from these strangers, forces an attempt to clear the coldness from her gray eyes, to appear civil, at least, maybe less scary than she naturally is, though of course those stubborn dark lips never turn into a smile. 

She is nearly jealous of them. Never in her life has she stood as close to someone as they are standing to each other. Never has she felt calm enough to look at someone the way they look at each other. She’s almost sure no one knows as much about her as they know about each other, and Vespera knows even her best trainees have heard only the bare minimum of the stories she has to offer. As much as this world might hate them, at least they have each other. Something almost bitter rises in her mouth. What does that feel like, loving someone, she wonders briefly, and in the next moment pushes it away.

Lead on, then, one of them says, and Marisol shakes herself from her stupor. The agreement is almost surprising, but she chooses not to question it - bringing them voluntarily is much easier than the violence that might ensue should they prove to be difficult about being taken to the Court. That would require an explanation much more thorough than she has offered. But of course, they cannot know what she has not bothered to say. What she hasn’t told them is that strangers, even poor, fearful refugees, are expected to be taken to the city center and questioned; what she hasn’t told them is of the civil unrest she feels like electricity all over Terrastella, of the dragons, and the blacksmiths working to make swords at their forges, and the shaky promise of war impending. 

No need to tell them. No need to be bitter so early. It’s easier like this.

 She dips her head at them and turns, taking her first step back toward the Dusk Court. A stone of familiarity settles in her chest, weighty but comforting. Home. At least for her - who knows what these boys will think of it. All of Novus remains to be discovered for them, and yes, perhaps the other courts have something to offer, but even after all her travels, Marisol is and will always be quick to speak of her love for Terrastella, the genuine magic of the inner city, more glamour and life than anywhere else on the continent. The citadel rises like smoke on the horizon, dusty-marble and painted glass; it is a blur from here, but Marisol can see it in her minds eye, in all its exact glory.  It makes her heart beat just a little faster.

You are in Terrastella, she responds coolly. The Dusk Court is - there. One wing sweeps from her side to gesture at the smoggy cityscape ahead of them, where buildings rise and fall against the land in perfect unity. Marisol falls silent again. Of course there is more to be said, more she could tell them, but already her tongue is a rock in her mouth, already speaking is a nuisance, and there are millions more qualified than she to talk and talk about what this all means. 

Just as she thinks they are falling into a comfortable silence, the talkative one speaks up again. The Commander flicks an ear back to catch his voice over the wind. Are you a soldier for Terrastella? Who’s Vespera? Are they your ruler?

Gods, so many questions. Marisol’s mind freezes for a moment. In the midst of muffled panic, she focuses on her steps, the half-moons her strides make in the dirt, the comforting familiarity of the hard-packed trail she’s leading them on, winding over fields and through the tall grass. Her heart pounds. And then, disciplined as ever, she swallows her discomfort. 

Yes. Marisol’s voice, though certain and calm, is almost a croak from disuse. I am the Commander of the Halcyon Unit, Terrastella’s flying army. A pause to recover. Vespera is our god. There are others in Novus, but Terrastella is under Her jurisdiction. Praise be, she adds quickly. Florentine is our mortal ruler. What else would you like to know?

@Ard @Erd

[Erd]

ERD

If Marisol was annoyed by his slew of inquiries, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened in the company of a stranger. There had been many moments in Luminous where Erd’s mouth and natural curiosity had gotten him into trouble, and more than just a few occasions where such impudence had granted him a beating. He hoped, belatedly, that Marisol did not share the same manipulative cruel streak as his and Ard’s former master. Aloof and distant though she seemed, he hoped that the bit of trust that he had for her proved true.

The petite warlock kept pace with his brother just behind Marisol, following after her much larger frame and along the dirt path. He marveled at the packed earth trodden with wear, but the youth’s ears flicked forward at attention as the militaristic woman began to speak. He listened with rapt curiosity, turquoise eyes following the outstretched wing to regard the city scape in the distance. So, that was the Dusk Court…?

Deciding to hold his tongue and simply listen, Erd refrained from asking anymore questions while the deep bay said her piece. So, the Dusk Court was Marisol’s home, and the Dusk Court was within the land of Terrastella… Which had its own deity? That was Vespera. The young warlock frowned. Gods. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them, because they had to exist… But with the mind of a scientist, the mind of an alchemist, of one who had once summoned storms and raging fires with a mere thought, having hard proof outweighed everything else. Who knew? Maybe there was proof that these Gods existed. Maybe they walked among mortals. He didn’t know. They had, after all, only just arrived.

Marisol herself was the commander of a flying army unit, the Halcyon Unit, and that truly perked Erd’s curiosity as well. His eyes widened, bright pools of turquoise so wide and nearly glowing, curiosity mixing with uneasiness. Everything else seemed to fall to the wayside, even though he heard it. Florentine was the ruler of the land. The name meant little to Erd, at least right then and there. An army. Terrastella had an army? Well, it would be dumb if they didn’t, right? It was a monarchy. A king or queen had to have an army as a show of power, right? It only made sense… Yet was this army like Vreis’ cruel rebellion that sought out murder and domination? Or was it like the Royal Army; condemning and ostracizing, slaying any who were different?

“Hm,” the silver boy hummed thoughtfully, frowning as he mulled over everything that had been revealed, “I see.” Did he have any more questions? He definitely did. A ton, really, but he desperately didn’t want to annoy Marisol. “I have other questions, but… Well, they can wait. I mean, is there anything we should know? Anything we shouldn’t do?” Would the citizens of Terrastella even welcome them? “Ard and I… Well, we haven’t ever been around a city before.”