♛ The Prince, ⚔ the Soldier, & the Gifted ☀ #2

[Ranger of the North]

Alliteration ftw 🙌

[~Teya~]

Alliteration ftw 🙌

c;

[~Teya~]

ＭＵＲＬé ＢＵＲＮＳ:
Chapter nine

Ａs the car engine rumbled to life, Murlé pulled out of the palace garage and headed for the large golden gates leading out of the safety of his home. It was weird, thinking of the palace as his home. Being able to wake up every morning in silk sheets and have the welcoming sun sneaking across his eyelids to wake him was surreal, compared to how he used to wake up every morning. His FFA drill sergeant shouting into his shared room to “rise ‘n shine” in that bland, almost cruel and raspy voice he had. He still wrinkled his nose after a semi not-so-terrible night sleep, expecting to breathe in the stench of the seven other male viscets he had lived with. And for just a second—a split second—he could smell it.
That wasn’t important now. Something was eating at him, digging uncomfortably into the back of his mind—Inkina, the girl who Sunora had found and was still in the Ciudad Amarilla hospital. Although he rarely managed a normal night’s sleep, last night had been especially maddening. For some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should go see her.

* * *

After surviving a twenty minute drive in the lively early traffic, Murlé navigated into the hospital parking lot and headed for the entrance. “I won’t stay long,” he reasoned to himself, a pit forming in his stomach at the thought of Inkina finding out he was a former FFA soldier. His dark sunglasses hid his markings well, but they were far from perfect. The black sneaked past the rim down his cheek and above his eyes, like an unpleasant memory he desperately wanted to erase, yet traces would always remain no matter how many happier memories filled the wound.
Nearing the doors, he stiffened instinctively. Raising one eyebrow at the growing swarm of hungry reporters buzzing around the entrance with cameras in hand, ready to point and click at anything that so much as coughed, he kept moving. Balling his fists for a split second, he roughly pushed past a few while being sure to keep his eyes clear before finally making it into the building. Edging over to the front desk, Murlé cleared his throat. The woman glanced up from her papers, awaiting his request with drooping eyelids and a bored expression. “Uh, is Inkina in room 205 still here?”
“You—haven’t heard?” the female replied abruptly, her eyes flickering with surprise.
“I—no,” Murlé stuttered, running his paw through his mane.
The woman glanced left and right before responding, like she only wanted him in on this little bit of gossip. “A reporter wanted a good scoop on a story, and in the process scared the heck outta the girl in 205. She ran off before anyone could stop her,” she confessed, shaking her head with mild disgust.
“What?! Where’d she go?” Murlé exploded, the mane on his back pointing up like spines. She shrugged, a look of pity on her powdered face. Whirling off in the direction he had come, he swung the heavy glass door open with force.
A flash blinded him momentarily and he covered his eyes. Looking around to find the culprit, colorful spots still partially interfered with his vision.
“I knew it!” one viscet yelled victoriously in front of him above the others, “I told you I saw that Burns, but you just had to disagree,”
“What a story this’ll be,” another chimed in. He watched as the gray viscet talking from before was apparently handed money from a bet or something he had made.
“Which one of you did it?” Murlé hissed, a low growl reverberating in his throat.
“Huh?” the same gray viscet questioned, lowering the expensive camera in his small hands. There was something about this viscet he innately didn't like; maybe his face was just a little too pushed in, a little too rat like.
“The one who scared the girl!” Murlé said, straining not to sound so hostile. That's just what they wanted after all, to get under your skin and destroy you from the inside out.
“Oh . . . the kid in 205? Yeah, Walt left a while back,” he replied in a nonchalant voice, as if what his buddy had done was nothing remotely wrong.
He sighed, trying his best to stay calm. The last thing he needed was more media attention than he already had. “Do you know where she went, which direction at least?”
The gray paused, his face creasing with a look of dumbfoundment. “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t. What’s it to ya anyways?”
“I want to find the kid so I can congratulate her on winning a million dollars—what do you think?” Murlé snapped, glaring into the viscet’s glassy eyes. With that look, he'd almost swear the reporter thought he was serious.
“Sorry, I can’t help you,” he said firmly. Murlé took a step closer to him, not liking the look he had like he was in on some great big joke Murlé didn't know about. “Viscet’s like you aren’t exactly the best when it comes to being around children old enough to train anyways,” the gray remarked, his thin upper lip curving upwards ever so slightly.
Murlé sucked in a sharp, cool breath through his clenched teeth, honestly surprised by his own composure. “I guess I’m no better than your jolly old friend Walt, am I?”
He half laughed dismissively. “Walt’s a good guy, he messes up every once in awhile but he gets the job done. I know you’re pissed about losing a recruit but get over it, eh—”
Murlé found himself snatching up the gray's shirt collar and a part of his skin with one paw and baring his teeth, using his other hand to remove his sunglasses so he could look the viscet in the eyes. Lights flashed from every angle, yet no one made a move to intervene. The gray's eyes widened in sudden confusion, freezing in his tight grip.
“You’re pathetic, all of you,” Murlé remarked, keeping his gaze dead on the gray.
“Hey man, I barely know the guy,” the viscet gasped in a meek attempt at a backtrack, staring fearfully back at Murlé, teeth writhing in pain.
“Which way did she go?” Murlé questioned again, feeling his claws dig deeper into the reporter.
“I don't know, I swear!” he exclaimed with a slight squeak, darting his eyes wildly at the others. It was strange, looking at the gray now—none of his friends to help him, or at least unwilling. He appeared especially weak and helpless now, like a rat in his palm. It would be so easy to crush, to imagine the life being sucked out of him and never to return. It would be much easier than anyone else he had ever . . .
Loosening his hold, Murlé's blind aggression left him like a ghost as fast as it had come. “God—what was I thinking just now?”

Retracting his grasp altogether in a sudden jerking motion, his paw lowered, trembling faintly.
“Sorry,” he muttered half-mindedly, placing one paw over his mouth as he took a step backwards into the crowd that moved quickly away. No more camera flashes hid the faces of those holding them, and they were now all defensive; afraid even.
Afraid of him.
Swiftly shoving his glasses back over his eyes, the seconds dragged by like hours as he weeded his way through the crowd of reporters and onlookers. Their gaze burned straight through him and their rumourous whispers stung his flattened ears.
It wasn’t long until Murlé was swallowed up by the horde of viscets in the streets of Ciudad Amarilla and his hurried pace slowed. Taking a deep, controlling breath inwards, he put a supporting hand on a street light to think.
“Who am I?” the thought popped into his mind with no answer. What was he, anyways, or who was he, truly? An FFA deserter, a fake friend of the Prince, a media feast, a soulless murderer? Maybe that was all he was. All of those things combined—that was what the entire Kingdom thought, wasn't it?
He glanced down at his trembling hands, demons from his past ready to crawl back to greet him. “Not now,” he thought, barely able to ward off complete panic. To calm himself down, he decided to ponder about something else other than his silly life crisis.
Why, exactly, had he wanted to see Inkina so much in the first place? It wasn’t only the looming sense of guilt, knowing an organization he had once been apart of had caused her so much needless terror and pain, it was something deeper. He could draw parallels between the both of them. He could, in a weird way, relate to the girl. Their parents were stolen away from the both of them at a young age, in the process changing the course of their lives forever. Yet, unlike him, she had a chance at finding her family again. It was possible that with time, if she found her family, this would all be a faraway memory and she could live a normal life. But now she was alone, and undoubtedly scared that the FFA could still get to her, just as he had been after deserting.
“Well,” he muttered under his breath, raising his head to take a look about his general location. “I’m not going to find her standing here like an idiot,” he said with a renewed sense of purpose, glancing this way and that in a vain attempt at deciding which way to try first. Straight was the first way he walked down, soon realizing with all the side streets and alleyways this was going to be nearly impossible. He sighed, too stubborn to give up just yet and opted to wander all streets remotely close to the hospital.
It was strange—being all alone, surrounded by other viscets. They all kept to their objective, be it honking to get to their job a second faster, shopping, or sightseeing, with Murlé making sure to stay in the shadows and stick to his own hard set goal.
He didn’t know how long it had been before it began to feel like he was going in circles. Every street corner, traffic light, and building blended into one after the constant rushing in every direction. In the distance, he spotted a small group of viscets on one of the less busy sidewalks. Swiftly crossing the road to the other side closer to the group, he propped up his sunglasses and continued walking hesitantly forward. They were close now, and he could hear a collection of bewildered voices. The crowd were forming a circle around something, causing his heart to skip a beat. Standing on his tiptoes to get a look above the viscets, a flash of purple emerged.
“Inkina?” he asked excitedly above the others. The viscets glanced in his direction, shuffling away to reveal the purple viscling.
“Murlé?” Inkina answered with an exaggerated pronunciation, her face lighting up with a smile as she leapt for Murlé, knocking the air out of him.
“She actually remembers me?” he thought, smiling faintly. “The one and only,” he replied, observing her dirty hospital gown and messy bun of hair. “I told you the food at the hospital wasn’t the best—but I didn’t think you’d run away over it,” he remarked with a smirk, gazing down at her. At first, she refused to lift her eyes to meet his, content on not letting him get a full breath.
“How’d you find me?” she questioned, her face wrinkling with amazed bewilderment.
“A little bird or two,” he replied simply, looking up for the first time and realizing the small crowd of five was still staring at them.
“Where’s Sunora?” she asked after a pause, overcoming her outburst of joy. Looking up at him now with her scrutinizing deep blue eyes, he felt her arms retract from his waist as she took a stiff step backwards.
He faltered. “She’s back at the palace, we could go there if you want—”
“Take off the glasses,” Inkina interrupted, a look of dread coming over her, almost like she knew what she would see but refused to admit it to herself. His blood turned to ice. Everyone in the crowd had their focus on him.
His jaw turned to iron. “Inkina, I—”
“I said take them off!” she blurted, shock and anger boiling over in her words. He sighed, placing a paw on the rim. Biting his tongue to think of anything but what he was about to do, his fingers reluctantly clamped around the rim and he let his paw slide to his side.
Inkina was silent. So silent it hurt to so much as breathe. “You’re . . . you’re a spy,” she murmured under her breath, her outraged features saying it all. His heart sank deeper into his chest. It wasn't the anger that hurt him most, it was more the confused betrayal in her purple face as she shook her head.
“No, I swear!” he pleaded, taking a step closer to her only for her to jump back fearfully and for the crowd to turn on him. “I’m not a spy,” Murlé insisted with growing irritation at the viscets inching nearer to him, forcing him to back away.
“Then why the tattoos?” a chestnut brown viscet snarled, “This poor girl was just telling us about how she thought the FFA was after her, and now here you are,”
“I knew I recognized your face,” another male remarked with disgust.
He clinched his teeth, ignoring them. All he cared about was Inkina and getting her out of here. “Inkina, please! Just give me a chance to explain?” he pleaded desperately, looking her straight in the eyes.
She hesitated, returning his gaze for only a second before diverting it to the ground in thought.
Without warning, Murlé felt the heavy blow of a fist cracking against his skull and he fell to the concrete before he could process what had happened. A sharp sting and a ringing in his ears signaled that they must have hit close to his right ear, but he was still in a partial daze to know for certain. He gasped, feeling a warm liquid between his fingers when he reached his hand up to his ear.
“Get up,” the same brown male ordered, towering over him with a hungry look in his eye. “I’ve always wanted to meet a real FFA soldier in person,”
“I’m not a part of that anymore,” Murlé replied with a cough, digging his fingers into his palms. Although, he mind as well be with everyone he ever met thinking otherwise.
“Do you really expect us to believe you?” he said mockingly down to him, crossing his arms and glancing towards the others in the group. Two of the female viscets looked down at him sympathetically, but still made no effort to object. Murlé caught a glimpse of Inkina’s features, but they revealed little. With one paw on her shoulder she was as still as a deer. Her gaze fastened onto the ground, eyes partially slit and eyebrows furrowed. Even the peculiar monstrosity of a tail she had made little movement. Slowly, he raised to his feet, glaring at the brown viscet. “How’d you do it?” the brown asked with a sneer, mere feet away from him.
Murlé tried not to focus on the throbbing pain near his ear, but it was too strong. “Do what?” he asked with exasperation, tired of so many viscets telling him about things he had never done, but knew he had to humor this maniac before he could regain his bearings.
“Trick the Prince into thinking you’re not just as loyal as the rest of the FFA dirt?” he responded with a slight shake of rage in his voice. The way he moved in a circle around Murlé reminded him of a wolf taunting his weakened prey, waiting for his chance to strike again for the kill.
“Well I'm sorry if you wanted to be his bud too, maybe I could hook you up and we could share?” Murlé remarked coolly, fully aware of what the male was about to do. Growling, the brown lounged for him to which he narrowly dodged, so close he could feel the rush of air next to his face. “I’m sick of all you “saints” claiming to be above me. I’m not the only one who has ever done wrong,” he snarled, taking a step forward.
“Let’s go Launi, you’ve made your point,” one of the female’s Murlé had seen earlier piped up, touching his hand. Launi wavered, staring down at the female.
“Don’t listen to her Launi!” one of his friends shouted.
He shook his head, gently pushing her outstretched hand away.
“No,” he said, solemn. “My father and mother died when the FFA attacked Amarilla, and I wasn’t around to protect them. You deserve nothing Murlé Burns, and certainly not this child.”
Now Murlé understood. He could see the grief in this viscet’s face, the pain of loss that he was all too familiar with. Maybe there was a way to get through to him?
Murlé paused. “Launi . . . I’m sorry for what happened to your parents. If you really want to have closure, this isn’t the way to do it—I know because I was in the same situation once before,” he admitted, holding his breath. Launi suddenly avoided his gaze.
“I understand that,” he remarked, glancing at the group for a moment with his two egging friends. Murlé breathed out a sigh of relief, not realizing how tense he had been until he finally relaxed a little. Inkina’s searching eyes looked in Murlé’s direction. “But that doesn’t change what you’ve done,” Launi added, all optimism of him backing down disappearing and causing Murlé’s heart to sink. Launi leapt for him and Murlé was too slow, sending him crashing back to the ground.
“Launi!” the female viscet cried hopelessly, held back by her other female friend. A foot pressed into Murlé’s chest, squeezing out what little air he had left out of him.
“Don’t worry,” Launi growled, leaning down to meet his eyes. “I understand you’ve been through a lot, and it’d be pathetic kill you here. So don’t you worry, I simply want the Prince to understand how much we dislike a murderer living under the same roof as himself,”
Murlé groaned painfully, out of the corner of his eye spotting a figure dart out of view. Launi must have saw it too, giving him the perfect distraction. Grabbing Launi’s leg, it slid from beneath him. His body went flying, and in a flash of brown was laying on the concrete, stunned. Murlé launched upwards, a rush of adrenaline shooting through his veins. Launi coughed and wiped the blood dripping in a steady stream from his mouth, pushing his arms away from the ground to propel himself to his feet strenuously only to sink back to the ground. Murlé took a step away from him, ready to get Inkina.
Rough hands clasped abruptly around Murlé’s arms, holding him there with little way of escape. His muscles were beginning to tire from all this stress, and these two friend's of Launi's were not fooling around. “Cheater,” he hissed, struggling wildly, but it was no use. Launi only smiled, making it to his knees.
“Launi, haven’t you done enough?!”
“Not even close,”
“Well I say you’re finished,” a distinctively feminine voice commanded from behind Murlé, but was neither of the bystander females in the crowd. Murlé wrenched his neck towards her, the grip of the two viscets releasing before he could so much as blink.
A second passed before he saw why—the woman standing erect behind him held a black pistol aimed in the air, for the time being. Murlé’s mouth flew agape and refused to shut.
“Get out of here, all of you,” the woman said with disgust and a distinct sense of authority. Her red curls were tucked in a tight bun behind her alert, abnormally large ears and a stance that screamed she wasn't messing around and definitely wasn't going to ask twice. Just like that, everyone in the crowd dispersed in mere moments, leaving no one but him and Inkina who stood paralyzed with fear at the weapon in the woman’s hand. Lowering her weapon and putting it back in the concealed holster, she strolled calmly over to Murlé, stopping when they were mere feet apart.
“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say in a daze. She nodded, looking over his shoulder.
“You better go catch your friend, she just turned the corner.” she confessed with a trace of regret, but what for he didn’t know.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said hesitantly, his back already beginning to ache from slamming onto the concrete. His legs took a step forward away, yet then stiffened. Was he really just going to leave this viscet here without asking her anything?
“What’s your name?” he asked quickly, looking back in her direction. She seemed almost startled by the question at first, but then she smiled faintly.
“Emma, Emma of the Lost Child Survivors,” she replied, her chin pointed slightly upwards with an intense pride set ablaze in her caramel eyes. “You’re not as alone as you think,” Emma added, turning away from him and heading down the lonely street.
Before Murlé could adequately process this, he sprinted down the opposite way in search of Inkina. He found her only a block or two away, trapped by a dead end. She stopped, her back turned to him. Slowly twisting her neck towards him, her whole body mimicked stone.
“Stay away!” Inkina cried out, at the same time standing her ground in defiance.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Inkina,” he began, holding his hands up slowly and taking a step closer. Her thin hands closed into fists, and her “tail mouth” growled. Trying not to look at the thing, he continued. “Let’s call a temporary truce, just for a for a little while, until we get to the palace?”
“Why would you want to take me there?” Inkina asked with a defensive sneer, pinning her ears back and looking like she was ready to bolt.
“Because I know you’ll just escape again from the hospital. And besides, wouldn’t you rather not be so alone?” he questioned warily, ready to chase after her if she decided to run. She opened her mouth to speak, snapping it shut again in thought.
“Sunora is there, right?” she inquired slowly, slitting her eyes skeptically and placing one paw on her hip. He smiled lopsidedly, nodding his head. “If you try anything, I swear I’ll—”
“I promise, it’ll be a truce. For both of us.”
-------------

Heyo !! Gosh, I know it has been awhile and I'm so sorry >0< First I went to Maui for 10 days and then had finals when I got back, and then of course there was Christmas afterwards. But finally, I managed some free time here and there to finish this. I won't let a chapter take this long again unless I die and I have to type it as a ghost. I promise! c;

[Ranger of the North]

I have so many feelings right now I can't even word aaaAAaAh

[~Teya~]

I have so many feelings right now I can't even word aaaAAaAh

[~Teya~]

ՏԱИѺГѦ:
Chapter ten

Ҭhe warm ocean breeze blew up from the coast and up to the balcony attached to Sunora’s room where she was standing. Leaning her weight on the golden rails, she gazed down at the coral reefs below. Turquoise green sea foam was stirred up by the rocks abundant with little creatures living in every crevice, that were being constantly pummeled by saltwater.
Allowing her eyelids to drift shut for a moment, she breathed in the familiar salt air until it filled her lungs.
So much had happened to her lately, that it was a welcomed change to simply be alone for awhile. Which was an interesting turn of events, considering just a few days ago she seemed always alone. Not many occupied the palace besides guards, and with Arathorn and the Queen tirelessly moving from Kingdom proposals for anything you could think of, interviews, paperwork, and dealing with the “Free for All” and their endless terror, it was little wonder why she might have felt neglected. The public knew what they wanted, to get rid of the FFA no matter what the costs, save all those held captive and to invade and execute the rest and be done with it. But it wasn’t that simple. In fact, she found herself biting her tongue a lot during these past few months whenever she saw the newest issue of the papers with their thoughts on how to eradicate the FFA, without giving a second thought to the fact that the majority of FFA soldiers are their own kidnapped and brainwashed. After hearing so much propaganda so often, it got to the point where Arathorn and Belleza just accepted that they couldn’t do anything about it. Not even so much as protest their dislike for it without fear of their entire collective of citizens ganging up on them.
“I guess that’s why I felt so alone,” she pondered reminissingly, rubbing her hand against her cheek. “I couldn’t even talk to Arath about how the public treats the FFA like a single entity, even though the FFA is constantly on everyone's minds.” she thought, shaking her head to rid the sleep from it. “Why am I still caught up on this? It doesn’t even matter anymore,” Sunora muttered under her breath, drawing her pale yellow robe closer despite not being cold.
Maybe this was the crash after that impossibly intoxicating high. It certainly wasn’t a new occurrence. A weird period of reflection after something good happens, that takes the good out of whatever it was that was good in the first place.
She jumped, ears flicking towards the soft knocking on her bedroom door. Quickly gathering herself, her hand was turning the doorknob in seconds. With a creak, her eyes met with Arathorn’s.
“Hey—do you mind if we talk?” Arathorn asked, clearing his throat. She paused, holding the door steady before responding.
“Yeah—sure, Arathorn. I just have to get dressed. I’ll just be a sec,” there was a click and Sunora headed for her wardrobe, taking out the nearest clothes she could get her hands on. Slipping them on, she spotted the purple clam necklace with a mother of pearl chain on her nightstand that Arath had given her the day before. Carefully clipping it around her neck, she headed for the door. “So, what’s up?”
Hesitating, he stepped lightly through the door, surveying his surroundings. “I just wanted to ask you something, if that’s okay,”
“Of course it’s okay,” Sunora replied almost automatically, closing the door behind him. Plopping down on the foot of her bed, she motioned for him to sit next to her. At first he only stood, gazing about the room with one hand clasped on his upper arm. And then without saying a word, he sat next to her. Staying silent, she waited for him to say something.
“I want your honest opinion, and please don’t jump to conclusions—deal?” Arathorn began, looking her way. Sunora studied his coral pink and light green eyes for a moment, having a strange feeling about what was coming. She nodded her head, finding it increasingly difficult to keep with his fixed gaze on her. For a split second, she could imagine his father’s assertive eyes being the ones staring back at her.
“Do you think Enojado is everything he says he is?” Arathorn asked, eyes searching hers for an unspoken response. Sunora was still, not exactly surprised by the question, but more her friend’s seriousness he rarely ever showed to this degree.
“Yes,” she replied after a drawn out pause, relaxing her shoulders once she realized how tight they were. Arathorn nodded, coming to a stand. “Wait—you’re leaving already?” Sunora questioned and leapt to her feet. He stopped.
“That’s . . . all I needed to know,” he responded simply, but something in his voice told her otherwise. She could sense that he was unsure. Touching his hand to her door, Sunora quickly grabbed his arm.
“Spit it out, Arath. Why’d you want to ask me that so bad?” she asked with slit eyes, not relenting when he attempted to slip out of her grip. He sighed, avoiding her stubborn gaze.
“It’s nothing—I don’t know what to think,” he mused, and she could tell that he was being honest. That was what confused her. “I couldn’t help it. I searched into the name Enojado Santana, and I noticed there is none.” pausing, his eyes finally made it back up to her. “Not anywhere, even in the records of our closest ally Kingdoms. And even those are hundreds of miles away considering we are on an island,”
Their eyes held, not saying a word. Releasing her hold on him, her gaze fell with her hand. “I don’t think Enojado came from here. I mean, he did say he was in Ciudad Amarilla because he saw a postcard, after all,” she pondered slowly, becoming lost in her own thoughts.
“True,” he said briskly, suddenly in a rush to leave again as he opened the door.
“If you’re going off to breakfast I’ll come with you,” Sunora remarked hastily, her features brightening.
“Ah, sorry,” he started, wincing a little at her downcast eyes. “I have way too much work today since I took a day off yesterday. I’ll see you later, though, okay?” he promised hopefully, giving her a reassuring smile.
“Sure,” she replied, returning his smile halfheartedly. “Go have fun. I know how much you love your work,”
He laughed. “Yeah, it’s such a blast,” pausing, his features grew soft. “See you later, Sunora,” he said, and turned away and headed down the hall. She smiled to herself, genuine this time. Standing by her room in silence, it quickly faded as he turned the corner.
Drifting towards the dining room, she passed by a few guards in their navy blue uniforms with the crest of the Sirena’s before making it to the wooden double doors. Carved ornately from driftwood that was rubbed until smooth and gave off a shine, the handle made of the same wood curled inwards. Turning the handle, a dining table with a few bowls of fruit and empty chairs greeted her. Letting out a small sigh, she clicked the door closed behind her. It echoed in the still hall, silence quickly settling again.
“Looks like it’s just us,”
Whirling in the direction of the voice, she spotted Enojado leaning against a wall. His purple and vaguely orange mane overlapped between his light teal eyes, which happened to be the same blue color as part of his face. It was almost hypnotizing how much color was in his fur. Now that she thought about it, it was the same colors she had seen in the sky on her home planet when Enojado had showed her. So close to chaotic, yet it had a certain balance to it. The many shades of sea green, purple, orange, blue and red perfectly came together in his fur.
“How about we eat outside?” Enojado suggested, striding over to a bowl of fruit and taking an apple. Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture and went over to the bowl to take a few slices of ripe pineapple from it.
“Anything is better than here,” Sunora replied, glancing at where Arathorn customarily sat for a moment before following Enojado through the doors until they came upon an exit.
For awhile they strolled along in the palace gardens, and made their way to a trail leading to the beach. Letting out a small laugh, she turned to look up at Enojado.
“You wouldn’t believe the kind of things that have happened along this trail,” she remarked, darting her eyes from tree to tree until she found what she was searching for. Her bare feet dug into the warm sand as she ran up the trail and placed one hand on the rough bark of a palm tree beside the trail. Her fingers touched a deep hole in the wood that was beginning to be covered up by new bark. Enojado knelt to examine it, his eyebrows raising slightly with surprise.
“This is from a bullet,” he commented, gazing back at Sunora with intrigue.
“Lets just say, I’m glad I rammed Arathorn out of the way for that one,” she replied with another laugh, staring at the tree in thought.
“The Prince underestimates you,” Enojado remarked, his tone matter-of-fact. Pulling her gaze away from the past, she at first didn’t answer him. Instead, they continued down the shady trail.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids. He knows me better than anyone,” she responded simply, observing the trail as it began to open up onto a wide open beach.
“Does he now,” Enojado countered, his voice smooth and calculated. “How often do you use your “abilities” around him?”
Opening her mouth to respond, it slowly shut again without a word spoken as she pondered the question.
“That’s what I thought,” he added dismissively, shaking his head. “You’re self-conscious, aren’t you?”
“N—no, that’s not it at all,” she replied quickly, observing the sun’s rays shimmer on the ocean only a few yards to her left.
“If the Prince knows you so well, what’s stopping you?”
Sunora glanced his way, swallowing uncertainly. “I don’t “use” them, they just happen when they happen,”
Enojado grunted, as if amused by her answer. “Darling, you must be kidding. You mean to say you haven’t even gotten past the sensing stage yet?” the silence that followed his inquiry was deafening to her pinned back ears, making her want to crawl out of her own skin. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t even really know what he meant.
“Wait,” Sunora stopped in her tracks, causing him to do the same. “Once I was able to change the emotions of others,” she admitted excitedly. Enojado’s features didn’t change, still emitting no emotion other than slight displeasement.
“Only one time?” he replied with a faint grimace, turning away from her. Sunora winced, the feeling of disappointing him shooting through her like bullets.
“I may have done it a few more times,” she said slowly, causing Enojado to look back her way. She sighed, an even more intense feeling of guilt settling in her stomach. “It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t even really that important,” Sunora confessed meekly, Enojado’s plain expression of “just say it already” telling her she couldn’t back out of it now. “Okay, fine. Sometimes Murlé would have nightmares and I would calm him down. There,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and returning Enojado’s gaze. “Mmh” was his only form of reply. Slitting her eyes, she veered away from him to the water’s edge with a huff. The water swirled uneasily, with the small bubbly waves coming close to hitting her bare feet. She couldn’t take this, her mind was so full of ideas it could burst. “How many “levels” are there?”
He smiled, at the same time his expression slightly changing when he glanced behind her. “Who am I to tell you that,”
“What do you mean? Of course you are,” she replied defensively.
“It’s up to you how far you go with your gift. Although, from experience I know new forms of power come out when you least expect it,” he smirked a little, looking down at her. “Especially with females, it usually happens when they’re extremely angry, frightened, etcetera—even passionate,”
She blushed. “I don’t really do anything like that,”
“You don’t seem the type, no. Others around you need to bring that out,” he was on the edge of monotone now, like how someone talks when their mind is really on something else and only half on what the other is saying.
“I guess you did that to me just now,” Sunora said with an awkward laugh, trying to pinpoint the cause of Enojado’s peculiar mood shift. Had she done something?
Kicking a small wave as it came towards her, small water droplets sparkled in the early light.
“That? Not even close,” Enojado replied dully, staring out into the Azul sea. Glancing towards where he was looking, there was nothing but the vast, empty ocean and more land a ways off. Turning back, he kept his gaze fixated onwards.
“Are you alright, Enojado?” Sunora asked hesitantly, swaying her tail slowly in the warm water as she stood there, eyes keen on his.
“Why wouldn’t I be,” he said, his tone bland and nonchalant. He looked distant.
“I’m not blind. Tell me,” she urged, taking a step closer to him out of the low water. He didn’t move.
“I don’t like the sea,” he said, keeping his gaze steady on the horizon. She at first didn’t know how to respond, focusing on the sound of the waves crashing onto the smooth sand that caught between her feet.
“Why do you say that?” she asked at last, still looking up at him and waiting for him to return eye contact.
“It hardly matters anymore, it’s all in the past. Let’s head back to the palace,” he suggested slowly, gaze lowering to the ground as he began walking away from her.
“Hey! Come back here,” Sunora commanded, staying in place and shoving one hand on her hip. He stopped, not turning back to face her. “I’m not leaving until you tell me why,” she added, holding her chin up a little. Not saying a word, he twisted his neck so that she could only see half his face.
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” he remarked with a hint of annoyance. This time she was the one who didn’t say anything, answering with only an unrelenting stare. Sinking down to the ground with a sharp sigh, Enojado beckoned her to do the same. Sunora smiled, going over and sitting next to him. She took a deep breath in, and their gazes met.
He started out slow, choosing his words carefully. “When I came to this world, it was by accident, like you. Once I was found by fishermen, I had to learn the language. And even then, the body language of them is so different from Solanae it was hard to adapt,” Enojado admitted, keeping his head held high.
“How so?” Sunora inquired, tilting her head.
“Solanae don’t usually use body language as much as these viscets do—it’s seen as rude since most can communicate emotion through the mind which is much easier,”
“You can’t,” she commented, her ears twitching curiously. Enojado straightened, glancing away for a moment.
“I was one of the few that couldn’t, but that’s not the point.”
Sunora paused, fidgeting where she sat. “So,” she began hesitantly, “What does this have to do with why you dislike the ocean enough to psych you out?”
Enojado made no movement, his expression musing. “I guess,” he began, “I acted like them—the viscets, the day we crashed on earth,”
She dared not interrupt, although she was already bursting with a thousand questions.
“When our planet was being destroyed, me and my Zko—what you would call a wife or mate—barely managed to make it to an escape ship in time. The Solanae in charge couldn’t find room for us to be seated together, so I was forced to separate from Seqiuala.” he faltered for a moment, a frown dawning his face. “Despite the crews best efforts, the black hole sucked us in and everyone thought we were as good as dead. We were powerless to it—and the ship, and those in it were soon badly hurt by what the black hole did to us,” closing his eyes tightly with a faint grimace of pain, he continued. “I can still recall the sound of parts of the ship ripping to shreds and debris scrapping over our heads as we whirled out of control. It was an eternity until we were flung out and were then hurtling towards earth. Before anyone knew it, we had gone through earth’s atmosphere and became submerged in water. We turned out to be abruptly in danger again after rashly thinking the worst had past. As we sank down, farther and farther . . . it grew dark, horribly dark . . . and the lights on board were failing fast. Water immediately filled the entire ship, so we had to hold our breath. Thankfully, a Solanae’s lung capacity is vastly better than a viscet’s. On impact, I immediately thought of Seqiuala. I searched desperately for her.” Enojado was silent, seeming to contemplate his next words attentively, like he hadn’t thought about this in so long because he had blocked it from his memory that he struggled to remember it correctly. “Other Solanae that were not yet dead or too weak to fight were panicking, and I couldn’t do anything. All I wanted was to find Seqiuala and worry about whatever else faced us later, nothing else mattered,” he paused. “After swimming through the wreckage with little light and air left, I at last spotted her trapped under a large pile of debris from part of the ship that had collapsed. No matter how hard I beat and clawed and pried at what was holding her down until I bled, it was all in vain,” his voice broke, and he shut his eyes. For the first time, Sunora could feel his emotions vividly. Enojado was usually too subdued for that, but now she could sense his deep hurt, his pain and longing for something long gone from his clutches. “The lights were almost out at this point, and I couldn’t make it out without them. She mouthed for me to leave her in the words of the Solanae, and I struggled to reach, to feel her touch one last time . . . her warmth and love. It was useless.” he stopped, regret lurking in his words. “After one long, final glance into her eyes the color of rose, I forced myself towards the nearest exit with my head pounding. Choking on saltwater and beginning to lose consciousness, I found an exit where a few other Solanae were thrashing at the door, their motions slow and weak from the lack of air. The lights went out completely at that moment, my bruised hands searching first for the wall, and then the handle of the door. Latching onto it, I was unable to help the muffled screams of those around me in the dark abyss.” opening his eyes, he stared up at the sky in a hazy daze of half forgotten memories. Sunora remained quiet, grasping the purple clam around her neck for some form of comfort. “One by one, the screams of broken terror ceased. I kept my mind focused on the door, pulling it with all my little strength left. I could feel my heart’s beat slowing, and all I could do was swallow saltwater soaked in the blood of my Solanae people as that replaced the air in my lungs.” he winced, like he could clearly recall the taste. “I felt a give, not much, yet enough to give me hope. The heavy door wrenched open under the intense pressure of the growing depth of water, causing my ears to feel like they were going to suddenly explode.” he pinned his ears back. “I swam upwards, up until my legs and arms almost gave out. A white light appeared, and I followed it. My lungs breathed in for the first time in what felt like hours the moment I made it to the surface. I hadn’t noticed how close I was to the surface because it was night, and that’s when I truly knew I was going to survive—but also that I was going to be alone.” he paused, turning to gaze at her as his expression softened. “Alone, that is . . . until I found you,”
Springing from where she sat, Sunora wrapped her arms around Enojado in a hug.
“What’s this for?” he asked with a small chuckle, returning it.
“For telling me your story—even if it did take a little persuasion,” she replied with a laugh as well, relief flowing over the both of them at the release of tension. “And I mean it, thank you for being honest.”
“Anything for you,” he said, releasing from the embrace.

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Hello <3 I told ya I wouldn't let a chapter take quite as long as the previous one and so far I'm keeping my promise! I dunno if there are any lurkers that read this, (meh probably not) but if there is, and to me friendo's I know read this, thank you. C:

[Ranger of the North]

Awww, my poor wee man

[~Teya~]

Awww, my poor wee man

He's probably like a foot taller than Arath and Murlé even though I was too lazy to show that in the psg cover probably because he wouldn't even fit that big pFF but yeah
'tis poor ;c
for now

[Ranger of the North]

idc and i still think he is Bad™ but he is a poor wee laddie *crosses arms stubbornly*

[~Teya~]

idc and i still think he is Bad™ but he is a poor wee laddie *crosses arms stubbornly*