Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

[Germanic Templars]

He felt her poking at his back and at this point felt the urge to just stand there and block the way, not to be an ass just to mess with her a little. Instead, however, he moved out the way by walking more forward. Needing sometime to think, he went over to the vacant bench against the wall and sat on the right side of the bench (left side if you were looking directly at it). As he sat he looked up at the control room above the factory that was connected to the rest of the factory by the catwalk.

Wren tilted her head. Sitting wasn't exactly looking for a generator. She rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged.

"Alright, we'll do it the Barox way," she flopped onto the bench. "Is the generator bigger than a breadbox?"

"Er no, it has a room to itself, but I can't seem to remember the exact lay out of it." He replied. Barox sighed and laid the back of his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "If only.." He sighed. His feeling of lost turned to confusion when a plant hung overhead of the bench, tied onto a pipe. He looked at the strange little decoration with a raised eyebrow. "I say, what is that?" He asked as he pointed up to it.

[Cerillium]

Wren tilted her head. Sitting wasn't exactly looking for a generator. She rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged.

"Alright, we'll do it the Barox way," she flopped onto the bench. "Is the generator bigger than a breadbox?"

"Er no, it has a room to itself, but I can't seem to remember the exact lay out of it." He replied. Barox sighed and laid the back of his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "If only.." He sighed. His feeling of lost turned to confusion when a plant hung overhead of the bench, tied onto a pipe. He looked at the strange little decoration with a raised eyebrow. "I say, what is that?" He asked as he pointed up to it.

Wren registered the plant. She smiled. "It's a cutting from a obligate hemiparasitic plant from the order Santalales. They usually grow in trees or in brush. Mistletoe, I believe. Why has someone wrapped a string around it?"

Tech priests were odd people. Perhaps this plant was an offering to their interpretation of the Machine God?

"Does it soothe the machine spirits?" she whispered to Barox.

[Germanic Templars]

"Er no, it has a room to itself, but I can't seem to remember the exact lay out of it." He replied. Barox sighed and laid the back of his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "If only.." He sighed. His feeling of lost turned to confusion when a plant hung overhead of the bench, tied onto a pipe. He looked at the strange little decoration with a raised eyebrow. "I say, what is that?" He asked as he pointed up to it.

Wren registered the plant. She smiled. "It's a cutting from a obligate hemiparasitic plant from the order Santalales. They usually grow in trees or in brush. Mistletoe, I believe. Why has someone wrapped a string around it?"

Tech priests were odd people. Perhaps this plant was an offering to their interpretation of the Machine God?

"Does it soothe the machine spirits?" she whispered to Barox.

Without even looking at her, still keeping his eyes glued onto the plant, he replied, "No, we don't believe in that such. Though in my spare time of reading about Christmas, I did come across the word mistletoe in a few books. If my memory suits me correct, apparently when two people are under it they kiss, or something like that. Why they do it is beyond me."

[Cerillium]

The flyers had a difficult time navigating the winds. Willow managed by utter weight and mass and soon Ogoti was lifting a trembling Katya from his back. Torii was lowered by rope to keep her sister company, followed by Rylli and Myra and the other smallest members from the group.

Drova was buffeted a bit and had a difficult time making the cave opening. Each time he neared it, the winds blew him back. It took several attempts before he managed to land inside. Likewise, Blossom and Yuna found themselves battling the winds. The vampire was battered against the rock and received a few good scratches.

Yuna had the most difficulty. Rachelle was large despite being a child. The approach was smooth but then the gusts shifted and the cultist-in-training found herself without any lift. She plummeted and would have fallen right past the cave opening had Torii and Ogoti not reached out to grab at her. Torii yanked Rachelle from her arms and they handed in a heap on the floor. Ogoti latched both hands onto Yuna and, by nature of her cultist uniform, he was able to gain purchase and pull her inside.

The rest came down by rope one at a time. The winds up top had reached such ferocity that words couldn’t be exchanged even through shouting. The second to last was Marcus, ashen faced and shivering from the cold. He carried one rope with him.

“If the trees up top break, we’ll need a way to lower ourselves,” he explained.

The rope outside the cave moved as Ceril, the last person standing, began to make his own way down. The cave itself was large and seemed to cut back into the island. The group inside was much warmer now and Ogoti had fashioned several luminous orbs which floated near the ceiling.

“This tunnel probably formed ages ago, a now unused vent for the volcano. It might even lead to the raptor base,” Ogoti mused as he added another globe above.

Marcus thought it added a new level of awesome to the island. His gang could explore it after the storm had passed. They might even find a way to use it as a clubhouse or something. That is, provided he get his father off his back instead of always being stuck doing chores.

He snaked his hand outside and caught the loose end of rope. Slowpoke. He examined the end for frays and found none, but marveled at the way in which it seemed to momentarily pool in his hand. It took him a heartbeat to realize that the rope was descending. The shadow tumbled past the opening just as it dawned on him that the security rope had failed. He stood speechless and unable to move and would have remained so if a loud splash hadn’t galvanized him into action.

“Dad!” Marcus thrust his head over the cave edge and stared down. There was no sign of the old cyborg.

[Cerillium]

Without even looking at her, still keeping his eyes glued onto the plant, he replied, "No, we don't believe in that such. Though in my spare time of reading about Christmas, I did come across the word mistletoe in a few books. If my memory suits me correct, apparently when two people are under it they kiss, or something like that. Why they do it is beyond me."

"They do it to..... To soothe the machine spirits," Wren replied softly. A blush took her cheeks and her heart felt like it would flutter right out of her chest. It was the lamest answer she'd ever given but a sudden thought had struck her. It wasn't an uncomfortable thought but it played into dormant feelings that Wren had tried to put side when Barox left for war. Those pesky feelings had reemerged when he returned and had kept her anchored to his bedside as he recovered. She bit her bottom lip and tried to not giggle but her nervousness increased as she stared and the festooned, parasitical plant dangling from the pipe above.

"Well, why else would they? Kiss, I mean?"

[Giovenith]

Safe enough now to really dwell on the reasonable fear of what was going on around them, Giovenith hung back away from the opening of the cave, hands on chest and taking long, deep breaths. It was okay now. It was all okay. They would be safe, just like they knew they'd be. All was well.

Willow, meanwhile, nuzzled his way out of his now uncomfortably damp sweater, sighing at it's current state. Oh well. It was too hot in this place for the article anyway. "Giovenith, would you terribly mind storing this in your pockets?"

"No problem, Willow," said Giovenith, taking the sweater and stuffing it away. "Does anyone know exactly how long-"

Her question was cut off by Marcus' frantic calls, spinning both her and the pony's attention toward the cave opening. Dad? Had something happened to Mister Ceril?!

"What happened?" called Giovenith over worriedly, hurrying over half-way to catch a glance at whatever had went wrong.

[Torsiedelle]

Hearing Marcus's calls alerted Torii that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Had someone....not made it?

That chill went down her spine, the kind that makes peoples hairs stand on end, and makes their heart skip a beat.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

Seriously, nobody really died, right? Sure, some people were hurt, and even she had a nasty cut on her leg, but....nobody actually died...right?

"Rachelle?", She called to the girl she had taken. "Wait here..."

She let go and ran over to Gio and Marcus; she didn't say a word.

[The BranRiech]

Rachelle attempted to scurry over to the ledge, and was quickly stopped by a combination of Yuna and Rylli. Her uncle was missing! "Where is he?!" She shouted, pained. Her experiences being carried by Yuna made her quite jumpy, and now that Ceril was gone, her patience was starting to ebb away slowly. Rylli was near-crying at seeing her daughter's discomfort.

"He probably just had to go back and get another rope, Rachelle. Your uncle is very brave." She reassured her, hoping dearly she wasn't lying to her adopted child.

Bran was sitting nearby, looking at the ground, shaking his head.

[Cerillium]

Marcus' nostrils flared as he took deep breaths. He turned his head and met Giovenith's eyes. They're pretty, he thought. Never noticed. I can see my reflection in them. Like eternity.

Tears formed in the corners of his biological eye and the lower lid quivered. He didn't have words. He refused to believe. It was easier to accept Giovenith's eyes than to think about anything else. Yet she'd asked him a question. He'd clearly heard her voice and that voice was grounded in this moent. It was as real as the expression of curious horror framing the windows of her soul.

"He's not coming." That was the most reasonable explanation. Ceril simply wasn't coming. He came down but then left. He was gone. Eternity.

The tears pooled and then cleansed a tiny track along his cheek. The cybernetic optic on the opposite side lost its glow. Marcus bowed his head to shut himself off from her gaze and the action allowed reality to flood in. "He's not coming, Giovenith." Now there was finality.

[Giovenith]

"Not... coming?" That could mean so many things, and of course the first thing Giovenith's mind jumped to was trying to insist that it meant one of the harmless, less devastating possibilities. Surely he was somewhere else, had found another way to hide? But Reality was quick to knock Wishful Thinking off it's throne, as the godling's eyes took in the rope, and followed where Marcus' gaze has previously rested.

"Oh... oh... I..." What, what was there to say? How could this even be, Mister Ceril was far by the one of the more careful of the group! She'd seen him do many seemingly impossible things, it was mind-blowing to her that he could have been swept away by something like this. "Marcus, it, I'm really..." Still speechless, a rarity for her. This was beyond what she was used to comforting others over. Realizing words would do her no good here, Giovenith carefully extended a hand over and pulled her friend into a gentle hug, patting his back. "... I'm so, so sorry."

[Cerillium]

Marcus didn't care if he was 17. He allowed himself a selfish moment to regress into a childlike state as Giovenith held him. He closed his eyes to block out the cave but he couldn't block out Torii's breathing sounds, Myra's hiccup or Rachelle's voice. His shoulders shuddered and he buried his face in her neck and hair and had his moment of silent grief.

Ogoti was unaware of the teenagers behind him. He was quietly sending a glowing orb down the tunnel to see how deeply it ran. Was it possible to walk out from there rather than risk the cliffs. The old cyborg would have a map of the place stored in his processor. Ogoti turned and didn't see him in the group. Assuming he was still on the ledge above, the old god traveled a little deeper into the tunnel and found nothing but a solid wall.

So much for that idea. He sat down and rested the back of his head on the cool rock.

Sophie was oblivious to all of it. She hadn't let go of Chrys for a single moment. The toddler felt secure in the Conservator's arms although she would have been happier if Herr Hans was around.

[Torsiedelle]

Somebody had died...Marcus's dad...

Torii was dizzy. They had heard their huts being ripped apart, ran through the jungle, climbed down, she had been joking to keep calm the entire time...

She could have died! Ceril did die! Somebody died, somebody had fallen, it could've been her...even so, she lived, but somebody died.

"He's dead.....he's dead....he's dead..."

Her dizziness went further, into a blunt sickness in her stomach, a fluttering, throbbing, sinking feeling in her chest, she felt terrible. She thought nobody would die, it was Christmas vacation...

She didn't want to be near them anymore. She didn't want to be mean either, though...was this really the time, anyway? She did little except watch Gio and Marcus, look at the floor, and pace back and forth quickly. She really needed a smoke, and she didn't care if anyone found out. She had learned that it calmed her down...

[Swith Witherward]

Part IV

Atosh glared at Naomi but his mind wasn’t completely enraged; he studied her in an attempt to discern how she’d managed to avoid death twice in a row. It was impossible. His mind refused to believe that she had somehow gained power overnight.

“Naomi, you don’t have to do this either. Go back home. Go back to your little child and live out your life. Pay this no mind. After all, it doesn’t involve you. It’s Swith’s role. She should be standing here, yet she sends you to die? For what? To demand something that she’s too weak to obtain? Naomi, she sent you here to die. Maybe she did it in the hope that you’d tired me so she could ride in triumphant? You’re like an Imperial soldier sent as fodder so as to lessen the chances of losing a more expensive Space Marine.”

Naomi tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. What a strange analogy. Of course she’d thought about Eva before coming. Eva needed her, naturally. But she’d come for Eva, so that the child could grow up unmolested by the constant threat that Atosh posed.

Her head righted and she shook it. “Swith didn’t send me, Atosh. I came because I needed to. For Thriller’s-”

“Soul,” Atosh sighed. “Yes, you’ve said that several times. Don’t you get tired of saying it?”

“Nope.”

Atosh shrugged and lifted his blade, allowing the flat to rest against his shoulder. He studied her further, casually, as a lazy dog would regard an annoying moth. Poor, misguided girl. “Naomi, life doesn’t always give many opportunities to learn from mistakes. Do you really want to take that risk here? Wouldn’t it be better to live?”

“Living is always preferable,” she admitted. “I suppose I will but I didn’t come to live. I came for a purpose.”

“As you like it.”

The sword streaked towards her again, launched from a resting position and, as predicted, she moved to avoid it. The slash wasn’t his goal however. At the last moment he altered his motion and swung the opposite arm around, landing a backhanded blow to Naomi’s head.

She flew to the side and lost her balance, slamming into the ground with a sickening crunch of bone. Thousands of stars erupted from nowhere and blotted out the world around her, and then the edges of her vision began to close in. There was an oceanic roar in her ears which increased in pitch until it was a ringing whine. Naomi coughed. Blood and a broken tooth splattered the ground in front of her.

She planted her tiny palms on the floor and lifted her torso up, swallowing coppery-tasting fluids mixed with a sickly bitter slime. The high-pitched noise increased to painful levels.

“See? Are we learning our lesson, Naomi?” he asked.

She barely grasped the words. His blow had rattled her brain and damaged the cochlea in her ear, rendering her deaf on one side. Her mind attempted to piece together the lack of stimulus and compensated by producing a ghost tone. The tinnitus was maddening and the concussion painful. She wretched and forced her world to come into focus again.

This is nothing. There will be much worse to come, she reminded herself. Naomi’s legs gathered under her and she pushed herself off the floor to stand in front of him again. “I’m made of star stuff and cobwebs.”

“What the fu-?”

“Exactly.” Naomi lifted her arm and gently blotted the blood trickling from her ear. “I’m something you can’t understand.”

“Now you’re just annoying the fuck out of me,” Atosh spat. “You really, really annoy people. Did you know?”

Part V. Copy o' Battle Doc

“I know,” Naomi replied simply. She’d known for a very long time. Oddly enough, that knowledge had governed her life since the beginning. The only one who wasn’t eternally annoyed by her was the old cyborg. She loved him all the more for it. She never loved him more than at that moment. She hoped he knew.

Naomi brushed hair from her eyes with a pale hand. “We’re not solving anyth-”

The strike came from nowhere. She’d been distracted and Atosh seized on it. Naomi found herself on the floor again and this time the pain caused her to black out.

The failed avatar kicked her head out of spite. “Stupid cunt.”

At least he was no longer annoyed.

[Swith Witherward]

Somebody had died...Marcus's dad...

Torii was dizzy. They had heard their huts being ripped apart, ran through the jungle, climbed down, she had been joking to keep calm the entire time...

She could have died! Ceril did die! Somebody died, somebody had fallen, it could've been her...even so, she lived, but somebody died.

"He's dead.....he's dead....he's dead..."

Her dizziness went further, into a blunt sickness in her stomach, a fluttering, throbbing, sinking feeling in her chest, she felt terrible. She thought nobody would die, it was Christmas vacation...

She didn't want to be near them anymore. She didn't want to be mean either, though...was this really the time, anyway? She did little except watch Gio and Marcus, look at the floor, and pace back and forth quickly. She really needed a smoke, and she didn't care if anyone found out. She had learned that it calmed her down...

Myra scooted over on her haunches and wrestled Torii into a hug.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be," she chanted softly. "It's just... yeah."

The girl let Torii go. Her hands were shaking as she reached into her pocket. She really didn't give a fuck if any of the grownups said anything, and it's not like her father sent any spies into the cave with them. The only ones who'd bitch were Mrs. Thriller and Miss Naomi. Myra pulled out a sort of crushed pack of Marlboros and placed one in her lips. She began striking matches, but they kept falling out of her hands the moment they lit.

"Fuck," she mumbled after each failed attempt until she finally got one pressed against the dry tobacco. It flared into a red cherry and she inhaled deeply.

[Giovenith]

Giovenith was silent, allowing Marcus to stay as he was, occasionally giving his back a futile rub or pat. There was no way in her vast imagination to even guess what the crushing pressure on his heart must have been like, and she prayed fervently in the back of her own that she never would. What she could relate to was having a person who actively shared their will to live with you, bringing you up through the lovely and the harsh, no matter what could have been offered otherwise... a parent. The parent. Marcus still had (as far as Giovenith knew) Naomi, but understood that she was a fairly recent addition, and important, crucial, and dear as she was, there was something deep-rooted about a person who stood over you like the sun since day one.

"Would you like to sit down...?" she whispered shakily, after what she felt was an appropriate moment of silence. It would be easier for the boy to grieve if he was relaxed, and it would be easier for her to assist him in whatever way he needed.

[Germanic Templars]

Without even looking at her, still keeping his eyes glued onto the plant, he replied, "No, we don't believe in that such. Though in my spare time of reading about Christmas, I did come across the word mistletoe in a few books. If my memory suits me correct, apparently when two people are under it they kiss, or something like that. Why they do it is beyond me."

"They do it to..... To soothe the machine spirits," Wren replied softly. A blush took her cheeks and her heart felt like it would flutter right out of her chest. It was the lamest answer she'd ever given but a sudden thought had struck her. It wasn't an uncomfortable thought but it played into dormant feelings that Wren had tried to put side when Barox left for war. Those pesky feelings had reemerged when he returned and had kept her anchored to his bedside as he recovered. She bit her bottom lip and tried to not giggle but her nervousness increased as she stared and the festooned, parasitical plant dangling from the pipe above.

"Well, why else would they? Kiss, I mean?"

"Dunno...So, since we are under it.. Do we... Should we..." Barox was lost of words like he was earlier.

Meanwhile in the shadows high above on the catwalk stood an individual watching it all, but so quiet, neither knew she was there...

[Cerillium]

Giovenith was silent, allowing Marcus to stay as he was, occasionally giving his back a futile rub or pat. There was no way in her vast imagination to even guess what the crushing pressure on his heart must have been like, and she prayed fervently in the back of her own that she never would. What she could relate to was having a person who actively shared their will to live with you, bringing you up through the lovely and the harsh, no matter what could have been offered otherwise... a parent. The parent. Marcus still had (as far as Giovenith knew) Naomi, but understood that she was a fairly recent addition, and important, crucial, and dear as she was, there was something deep-rooted about a person who stood over you like the sun since day one.

"Would you like to sit down...?" she whispered shakily, after what she felt was an appropriate moment of silence. It would be easier for the boy to grieve if he was relaxed, and it would be easier for her to assist him in whatever way he needed.

Marcus' head bobbed against her neck. He allowed the weakness to pass. It was pointless to keep sobbing and he had a new responsibility; Naomi and Eva needed him. He had to step up.

The boy pulled away and wiped his face with his robe's sleeve. "Sorry I snotted your shoulder," he softly replied and then added, "Thanks, Giovenith."

He sat by the ledge, a small part of him hoping he'd hear his father ranting at him to throw down a rope. He knew it was an empty hope however. Ceril was always impatient. He would have screamed for him the moment he regained his feet. He pulled his legs towards him and rested his arms on his knees.

"Dunno...So, since we are under it.. Do we... Should we..." Barox was lost of words like he was earlier.

Meanwhile in the shadows high above on the catwalk stood an individual watching it all, but so quiet, neither knew she was there...

The red hue gracing Wren's cheeks intensified. "Did you just ask what I think you asked?"

She bit her bottom lip again only this time it was due to uncharacteristic shyness. Oh my gosh!

"Alright," Wren scooted closer to him and leaned forward until her nose was practically touching his. Her head tilted to the right just a bit and she tried to force herself to stop grinning; you can't kiss anybody if the corners of your mouth felt like they were about to touch your own ears.

[Giovenith]

"It isn't a problem..." Giovenith calmly dismissed, pulling a tissue from her pocket and quietly wiping her shoulder with it. Although Marcus had drawn away and was clearly settling into that stage of grief where you calmed down enough to cocoon yourself and mull over reality, the godling still felt like it wouldn't have been right to depart completely right there and then. Everybody needed their alone time when they were heartbroken, but they also needed to know that the path to others was wide open.

A light fleece blanket found it's way onto Marcus' back and around his shoulders, Giovenith's hands stretching one corner around his front to link with the other side. It was cold here by the ledge, and the blanket functioned, in it's own way, as a continuous hug. It in no way would ease things to any significant degree, but Giovenith hoped with all her heart that it could do something.

"Would you like to be left alone for a while?" she asked him quietly.

[Germanic Templars]

Giovenith was silent, allowing Marcus to stay as he was, occasionally giving his back a futile rub or pat. There was no way in her vast imagination to even guess what the crushing pressure on his heart must have been like, and she prayed fervently in the back of her own that she never would. What she could relate to was having a person who actively shared their will to live with you, bringing you up through the lovely and the harsh, no matter what could have been offered otherwise... a parent. The parent. Marcus still had (as far as Giovenith knew) Naomi, but understood that she was a fairly recent addition, and important, crucial, and dear as she was, there was something deep-rooted about a person who stood over you like the sun since day one.

"Would you like to sit down...?" she whispered shakily, after what she felt was an appropriate moment of silence. It would be easier for the boy to grieve if he was relaxed, and it would be easier for her to assist him in whatever way he needed.

Marcus' head bobbed against her neck. He allowed the weakness to pass. It was pointless to keep sobbing and he had a new responsibility; Naomi and Eva needed him. He had to step up.

The boy pulled away and wiped his face with his robe's sleeve. "Sorry I snotted your shoulder," he softly replied and then added, "Thanks, Giovenith."

He sat by the ledge, a small part of him hoping he'd hear his father ranting at him to throw down a rope. He knew it was an empty hope however. Ceril was always impatient. He would have screamed for him the moment he regained his feet. He pulled his legs towards him and rested his arms on his knees.

"Dunno...So, since we are under it.. Do we... Should we..." Barox was lost of words like he was earlier.

Meanwhile in the shadows high above on the catwalk stood an individual watching it all, but so quiet, neither knew she was there...

The red hue gracing Wren's cheeks intensified. "Did you just ask what I think you asked?"

She bit her bottom lip again only this time it was due to uncharacteristic shyness. Oh my gosh!

"Alright," Wren scooted closer to him and leaned forward until her nose was practically touching his. Her head tilted to the right just a bit and she tried to force herself to stop grinning; you can't kiss anybody if the corners of your mouth felt like they were about to touch your own ears.

Barox, whose hands and body was slightly quivering, did his best to maintain his composure, but it was hard for him to think clearly when his heart is beating too damn loud. He mentally sighed and went in, finding himself doing the same thing as Wren, not being able to keep a straight enough face for it.

[Cerillium]

"It isn't a problem..." Giovenith calmly dismissed, pulling a tissue from her pocket and quietly wiping her shoulder with it. Although Marcus had drawn away and was clearly settling into that stage of grief where you calmed down enough to cocoon yourself and mull over reality, the godling still felt like it wouldn't have been right to depart completely right there and then. Everybody needed their alone time when they were heartbroken, but they also needed to know that the path to others was wide open.

A light fleece blanket found it's way onto Marcus' back and around his shoulders, Giovenith's hands stretching one corner around his front to link with the other side. It was cold here by the ledge, and the blanket functioned, in it's own way, as a continuous hug. It in no way would ease things to any significant degree, but Giovenith hoped with all her heart that it could do something.

"Would you like to be left alone for a while?" she asked him quietly.

He allowed the blanket to comfort him. It was an odd feeling to have something so simple bring such relief. He shook his head at Giovenith's question.

"No, just need a moment. We can't say here. We'll need to get down eventually. I got a better look down there and there's a ledge of sorts. Rocks mostly, but we can climb around them. Maybe when the storm's passed we can circle around the island and get back home? Worth a shot."

The planning made him feel more focused. He lifted his hand and felt the soft fleece beneath his fingertips. "Thanks again, Giovenith. Thanks." A corner of his mouth drifted into a smile which didn't reach his eyes but he felt foolish for not making an outward attempt at bravery.

Barox, whose hands and body was slightly quivering, did his best to maintain his composure, but it was hard for him to think clearly when his heart is beating too damn loud. He mentally sighed and went in, finding himself doing the same thing as Wren, not being able to keep a straight enough face for it.

Wren didn't know exactly how she found her mouth pressed against his. she had worried that she'd break into a giggle fit but now that it was happening there were entirely new things to focus on. Little bits of her melted inside as a happy fire wrapped around her heart. He was the sweetest person she'd ever met and she loved him because of it.

[Germanic Templars]

Barox, whose hands and body was slightly quivering, did his best to maintain his composure, but it was hard for him to think clearly when his heart is beating too damn loud. He mentally sighed and went in, finding himself doing the same thing as Wren, not being able to keep a straight enough face for it.

Wren didn't know exactly how she found her mouth pressed against his. she had worried that she'd break into a giggle fit but now that it was happening there were entirely new things to focus on. Little bits of her melted inside as a happy fire wrapped around her heart. He was the sweetest person she'd ever met and she loved him because of it.

Barox found himself kissing Wren, this translated in his mind into...Well nothing cause he went numb to the pure euphoria of having a kiss from someone he loved, but lacked the courage to tell. Though the couple was kissing, back up on the catwalk, a video camera was recording the whole thing while a little smile came from the holder of the camera, whose feline teeth were showing through the whole thing as she tried not to laugh.

[Torsiedelle]

Somebody had died...Marcus's dad...

Torii was dizzy. They had heard their huts being ripped apart, ran through the jungle, climbed down, she had been joking to keep calm the entire time...

She could have died! Ceril did die! Somebody died, somebody had fallen, it could've been her...even so, she lived, but somebody died.

"He's dead.....he's dead....he's dead..."

Her dizziness went further, into a blunt sickness in her stomach, a fluttering, throbbing, sinking feeling in her chest, she felt terrible. She thought nobody would die, it was Christmas vacation...

She didn't want to be near them anymore. She didn't want to be mean either, though...was this really the time, anyway? She did little except watch Gio and Marcus, look at the floor, and pace back and forth quickly. She really needed a smoke, and she didn't care if anyone found out. She had learned that it calmed her down...

Myra scooted over on her haunches and wrestled Torii into a hug.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be," she chanted softly. "It's just... yeah."

The girl let Torii go. Her hands were shaking as she reached into her pocket. She really didn't give a fuck if any of the grownups said anything, and it's not like her father sent any spies into the cave with them. The only ones who'd bitch were Mrs. Thriller and Miss Naomi. Myra pulled out a sort of crushed pack of Marlboros and placed one in her lips. She began striking matches, but they kept falling out of her hands the moment they lit.

"Fuck," she mumbled after each failed attempt until she finally got one pressed against the dry tobacco. It flared into a red cherry and she inhaled deeply.

Thanks.", Torii said, taking a cigarette. Lucky for her, she had also snagged her sister's flip lighter, and it was in her coat pocket, and Torii could quickly light up. Taking a drag, Torii felt so much better, and shivered a little. She needed something to help her think over things. Marcus's dad had just died, and there he was, with Gio, and hey were grieving, and Torii was freaking out. What was everyone else doing?

"God", She mumbled to Myra, "This is so much fucking bull, I swear. I knew we should've moved sooner, I swear..."

She shook her head. Meanwhile, her parents had gathered what had happened...it wasn't going so well.

"I will not tolerate my daughter smoking, Peter, I'm going over there right now to-"
"Oh, shut up! Our girl is freaking out over there, I'm pretty sure she deserves to light up right now, besides, that man died! Now is the time to greive and show respects....it's honourable."

The two spoke hushed in their native tongue. Meanwhile, Katya was drenched and shivering, and also freaking out. Unlike her sister, she couldn't smoke, and she was also angry that her sister was smoking in the first place. She had told Dora she didn't want her sister getting hooked....

She hoped the boy was okay...

[Tiltjuice]

Marcus' nostrils flared as he took deep breaths. He turned his head and met Giovenith's eyes. They're pretty, he thought. Never noticed. I can see my reflection in them. Like eternity.

Tears formed in the corners of his biological eye and the lower lid quivered. He didn't have words. He refused to believe. It was easier to accept Giovenith's eyes than to think about anything else. Yet she'd asked him a question. He'd clearly heard her voice and that voice was grounded in this moent. It was as real as the expression of curious horror framing the windows of her soul.

"He's not coming." That was the most reasonable explanation. Ceril simply wasn't coming. He came down but then left. He was gone. Eternity.

The tears pooled and then cleansed a tiny track along his cheek. The cybernetic optic on the opposite side lost its glow. Marcus bowed his head to shut himself off from her gaze and the action allowed reality to flood in. "He's not coming, Giovenith." Now there was finality.

Dia and Luce shared looks. They'd seen Ceril's readout dropping precipitously, of course, but as neither of them had known Marcus in the slightest it would have been awkward to show up like angels of death and give him the news. Not to mention the conflict between their own beliefs and what he would undoubtedly have set about doing - stopping his father or otherwise trying to change events. If Naomi had been there, things would have been different.

They could be thought cold by some, but what mattered to them was acceptance. There were reasons they didn't fit in well with others. Their beliefs notwithstanding, all of the customs and practices they'd developed to deal with what they faced every day fell into that category.

And so it was that they stood like statues. Immobile, off to one side.

Sophie was oblivious to all of it. She hadn't let go of Chrys for a single moment. The toddler felt secure in the Conservator's arms although she would have been happier if Herr Hans was around.

Chrys, like her fellows, had recognized what was about to happen, and bitten her tongue and tried to ignore it. She was beginning to see just what Dora had come to understand, quite early on. There was no putting aside some things, and she resolved to talk to Dia as soon as possible. If she died without clearing things up, Hans and Dia might be at each other's throats, and she didn't want to risk that. All things were possible, after all.

Looking down at Sophie, she brushed a tuft of hair out of the child's eyes.

"We made it all right, didn't we? I've got you, and everything's fine now," the blonde chimed reassuringly, confident in the high numbers over Sophie's head. She didn't bother looking at anyone else's; there had been bad news enough for one day.

Myra scooted over on her haunches and wrestled Torii into a hug.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be," she chanted softly. "It's just... yeah."

The girl let Torii go. Her hands were shaking as she reached into her pocket. She really didn't give a fuck if any of the grownups said anything, and it's not like her father sent any spies into the cave with them. The only ones who'd bitch were Mrs. Thriller and Miss Naomi. Myra pulled out a sort of crushed pack of Marlboros and placed one in her lips. She began striking matches, but they kept falling out of her hands the moment they lit.

"Fuck," she mumbled after each failed attempt until she finally got one pressed against the dry tobacco. It flared into a red cherry and she inhaled deeply.

Thanks.", Torii said, taking a cigarette. Lucky for her, she had also snagged her sister's flip lighter, and it was in her coat pocket, and Torii could quickly light up. Taking a drag, Torii felt so much better, and shivered a little. She needed something to help her think over things. Marcus's dad had just died, and there he was, with Gio, and hey were grieving, and Torii was freaking out. What was everyone else doing?

"God", She mumbled to Myra, "This is so much fucking bull, I swear. I knew we should've moved sooner, I swear..."

She shook her head. Meanwhile, her parents had gathered what had happened...it wasn't going so well.

"I will not tolerate my daughter smoking, Peter, I'm going over there right now to-"
"Oh, shut up! Our girl is freaking out over there, I'm pretty sure she deserves to light up right now, besides, that man died! Now is the time to greive and show respects....it's honourable."

The two spoke hushed in their native tongue. Meanwhile, Katya was drenched and shivering, and also freaking out. Unlike her sister, she couldn't smoke, and she was also angry that her sister was smoking in the first place. She had told Dora she didn't want her sister getting hooked....

She hoped the boy was okay...

Dora stared out and up toward the still-gray horizon. The wind and driving rain made an unholy mess out of her sundress, but she ignored the discomfort. Just one more family-sundering death on a day with miserable weather.

She turned about toward the cave, and her eyes darkened to match the sky. If she were asked, she'd trade with Ceril. Naomi would likely be inconsolable, she supposed, and an inconsolable Naomi would be like a thoroughly kicked puppy. A downcast Naomi who thought she was about to die was bad enough, she remembered well, from the Yellow Fellow crisis. If it helped restore the balance for someone, she'd find a way. Her family had the potential to be whole again, and so did Naomi's, one way or another. There weren't many who'd miss her, anyway.

Yet did she have the right to? All her mortal life had been spent trying to live up to others' expectations. Her parents had expected her to marry early, and she'd been due to, not long after that voyage. Afterward, she'd done her best for Katya (and Yoshi), and then tried to recover her own position. It was a delicate balance, and she hoped she was sober enough to walk the tightrope. Speaking of which - she moved back inside the cave, snatching some excess towels off Luce and wrapping them around Katya to try to keep her warm.

"Mind stressing yourself out too much," she chided. "Gotta keep healthy for the kid. One of the brightest spots in this little world of ours."

A soft look followed, as Dora nodded to Katya's stomach. "Someday, we're going to have a lot of stories to share with that one, aren't we?"

[The BranRiech]

"Just look at facts, most of us made it, eh?" Bran shrugged. While the one who died might have been a great friend to him, having given him his own workshop in the town along with Naomi, he did look at the situation in its whole. Most of the group had made it, and while it wasn't ideal, it did still seem acceptable to him. "I'm going to miss the old bastard though." He shook his head.

Rachelle crawled over to her father, trying to bury herself in his trench coat he was wearing. She needed to get away from it all, and this was a close as she could get to it. One of her favorite people in life, had just up and died . . .

[Giovenith]

He allowed the blanket to comfort him. It was an odd feeling to have something so simple bring such relief. He shook his head at Giovenith's question.

"No, just need a moment. We can't say here. We'll need to get down eventually. I got a better look down there and there's a ledge of sorts. Rocks mostly, but we can climb around them. Maybe when the storm's passed we can circle around the island and get back home? Worth a shot."

The planning made him feel more focused. He lifted his hand and felt the soft fleece beneath his fingertips. "Thanks again, Giovenith. Thanks." A corner of his mouth drifted into a smile which didn't reach his eyes but he felt foolish for not making an outward attempt at bravery.

"Seems sound enough," said Giovenith, perching on the opposite of him and looking out into the opening. "We might need to wait sometime after the storm too, though. Don't want the rain to make things slippery for some of the others. Do you think it will be big enough for some of the more currently delicate people to go across? Like the children, or Miss Katya?"

Poor kid, thought Willow along with everyone else in the cave, ears tilted low in pity. Dammit. They tried, they all really did, and they had still lost somepony? It wasn't as if they were ignorant of the possibility, but... jeeze, when it actually happened, it still managed to punch in that special blindspot in the heart. Celestia bless Giovenith, for running right into it.

Willow sighed, closed his wings, and sat down, looking upward to try and take in the ceiling of the cave. There were no markers to draw with, as he usually would have handled things, but the damp coolness of the natural marvel held its own kind of therapy.