[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: georgia; color: #74657c; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 12px;"]ALL THE STARS ARE FIXED UP IN THE SKY

[ after the break is the actually important bit ]

Danny.

What was but a simple assemblance of letters bestowed as a label grown complicated, too grand so meagre a frame that it held. No fault may be pressed upon the one who bore it, held it as only that, a name to which he answered, elsewhere it rested. The shoulders burdened with it carried little desire for it, however, made it a dark and cruel secret, a trivial factoid pressed into corners filled with locked boxes, another key to grow dusty where the light may not touch it.

Of course no inanimate object the one within question, no ease of ignorance given, expected, even demanded, his attention. And readily given it as though he were reduced only to a thoughtless moth caught in the light of a flame, too bright the burn, a death there that felt like a kindness. Pitiful his excuses, his reasoning for prolonging the break of that tie, discarded a boy so alike one that once lived where the mountains kissed the belly of the sky and sighed with frigid winds. Too many the things that adorned his neck, each sin and shortcoming, each deceit and want that carved his heart into beating pieces, this the worst of all.

He was selfish for he was caught in the past and forced it upon the present. It seemed the two had grown intertwined, a reenactment offered, a poisoned apple for him to choke on.

Unknown the hour he rose, barely acknowledged the darkness that hung as though it were a velvet veil, smothered all beneath silhouettes made those few who occupied that early hour. Lacking the  need for conversation, empty words the dark may swallow before the intended recipient received them, a silent blessing he took readily. None reacted, gave nothing that may speak of their acknowledgement of his passing, each but boats following the tug of the tide. Befitting such for the destination that occupied his mind, partially burnt away the dwindling shade of the night as his slow steps led to languid progression.

Expected the lack of occupants, relief heavily present in the sigh that gently grazed his lips, shallow the illumination of breaking dawn painted across the stretch of fine grains. Not wholly true wa shis solitude, however, as solemn and quiet as always she who stood an eternal watch over tranquil depths. Fond the smile to grace his visage as recalled the manner the statue had been spoken of, while a new addition to his life it felt an old friend now. Beneath the belly was a resting place found, cool still the grains displaced by his settling, further by the manner paws stretched forth.

The greatest fool was he, self made as it were, content in thoughts gentle in their swirl across the inner perimeter of his skull. Slow the slide, depths hued in the shimmering light of gold proven little more than pyrite hidden away. Without the truth his vision offered close did he hold the lie that the sand he rested atop was such, rather it was the loose and grainy sediment that crept along the bank of a meteorite dotted pool. Known it for a facsimile, poor at that, with each inhale. Too prominent the abundant salt that tainted each, his expectation of the crisp coolness left wanting, lips loose in their curl.

Longing was said to make the heart grow fonder, desire a fertile ground with which to work. Why did it seem the opposite had proven his truth, once so tender that grown rigid, beneath stone lost by a decree his own. For only so long may walls linger, even those of his own construct, the wishful thinking of the fool he had proven himself to be. Slow the part, eyes opening accompanying the fall of chin, upon legs propped. Reality a kindness, gentle beneath the strengthening spread of peach and orange hued light, the grains met by the tide. Peaceful it all, a calm that offered no room for anything else, quiet the strings of conversation caught.

No longer alone was he, it seemed. No surprise such, expected that it would not be prolonged, vision turning, caught within those few who saw fit to take to the bay. Each proven a stranger, another face within the crowd that slipped away from mind as his eyes did from them, coarse the longing the welled within his chest. Realisation came as a shock, as sharp and cruel as that which necessitated it, grains parting, the taunt stretch of muscle unknown until ache rose. Too well he knew it, bore such longing for it proved a sullen company to the grief that played along the ravaged strings of his heart. Different this, fresh almost the edges pried at with wandering fingers, investigation only prompting searing heat.

Breathless the light laughter that peeled lips back from enamel, bubbled forth in the echoing note that spoke of sorrow rather than mirth. Admittance may not come so easy, frame the thought which rejection only strengthened, drawn always once more to the surface.

He was beginning to feel as though he were home.

Too numerous the excuses he may reach for, adorn that thread until it may be proven another lie. Temporary measures, always another there, unbidden the rise for too numerous the triggers now, welcome each though far from mind that insignificant piece of knowledge. To be expected, a replay was it not, the rabbit hole into which he fell when youth was his, grown now just a memory hazey in a tentative reach rarely extended to it. Maybe the price he must pay, ever expected and roughly given segments of his heart until nothing was left to him.


To speak of the devil was to welcome his presence. Or, as was more applicable within this situation, her presence. Difficult had grown the task of telling the hour, a passage he had grown lax in following for little need was there, too few his menial tasks for it to grow into a prominent necessity. Careless in this, at a whim not his own. Eyes owlish as they widen, numerous their blinks, turning as voices drift and catch. Her queries taken by the wind, voice reduced to noise though identifiable, all the same apparent that her conversation partner offers is not satisfactory. The next turned to and again dejected she leaves, proximity closing until her question registers.

Have you seen Danny.

Fora moment Harland does not think to worry, sees no reason within such overreaction. Known how the youngest clung to each other, though their quartet had slimmed down with rest being deemed a necessity for Marianas, expected that Vayne merely wished for the company. There was something about her behaviour that did not feel quite right, however, her speech seemed almost rehearsed as though repeated too many times, her tone touched with something he could not placquite figure out. From his view had she slipped before he thought to follow, seek answers for the worries that rose and gently gnawed at the edges of his mind.

Nothing of the sort would be found, though this an as of yet unknown, a notion that grazed his thoughts only as the air split, all else still, breath held under that cry. So too was he halted, a moment passing, another following, ribs left to ache with how his heart quickened, an uneven tempo played out against them. To pinpoint when motion began again a fools errand, before all else his body moving, the silent bay falling away behind him.

"No…" Strangled the soft utterance that fell from his lips, severe their twist, drawn down even as they began to tremble. Well acquainted was be with the accompaniment of blood, the penny brightness of that copper tang that lingered against the throat, pressed into the opening as though it sought to choke the breath from the one to draw it in. Maybe it best if it could, his demise welcomed as his eyes focused against the desire to reject that present before him.

Sharp the burn, skin breaking as though it were but the flesh of an overripe fruit. Continuous the pressure, slick paws finding no purchase slipping from blood soaked fur. Unheard the laughter that vibrated through his suspended body, limp where it hung, dizzying the blue depths spinning across his darkening vision.

Choking — drowning on the blood that cascades down his throat, a glittering crimson sheen for those hungry teeth.

Breath caught, choking on an inhale that seems to have no end, chest expanding but never releasing. A sputtering release, harsh the cough that ends it all. Dashed the memory, broken fragments crumbling as her voice rises, a quiet plea. Too much blood on paws so miniscule, clumsy in their wish to stem a flow that should never have been. Unbidden the fall, slow at first before the pace quickens, the tears silent as moving lips are, no sound rising though the want is there.

It was him all those years ago with the talons of the man he came to view as family clutching at torn skin. It is Danny, holding on upon the edge of a thread, with Vayne desperately holding closed the ragged flesh of his throat. It was Moon whispering soft reassurance, always assured he would live. It is Roxanne offering comfort to her daughter as patchwork repair is performed.

They are and are not as his eyes wish them to be, the past and present melded in the blood that stains the once golden grains.

Unheard that which was shared between mother and daughter, the comfort offered in vocal and physical fashion barely witnesses, forward stepping Harland, his focus only upon the lupine. Limp, too much so, the rich ebony of his coat marred. The wish was there to reach out, brush against his brow and whisper comfort he once was given. His voice was gone, throat tight as he glanced to the Captain, registered her departure. Where was she going — the question came too late, ash against his tongue, forgotten as his attention fixed once more on the children before him. Basic his medical knowledge, that not enough, needed the expertise of Roan. To leave, chance the reaper awaiting only privacy, a notion far from his mind.

He would not move even  as the blood stained grains clung to his paws, torn up the sand beneath flexing claws, eyes shifting, Danny briefly looked and then Vayne became his central focus. Finally it was to her that he turned, harsh the strained whisper he forced out, quick his break into rough coughing once he was done. "He's strong, he'll make it."

He won't, pretending won't make it any easier. Sullen the voice that whispered in the back of his head, quiet the repetitive hum.

© MADI

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Blood. The scent of it on the air was unfortunately one that Roan had become intimately aware of, over many months of being a medic. Even worse, he had become used to said scent being mixed in with Caesar, these days. His only regret involving his encounter with the "head Cipher" had been that he hadn't been able to kill the other, and he could only feel that regret growing stronger now.

The smell of Danny's blood alone had been enough to tip the soothsayer off that something was wrong, but Vayne's cries only made everything so much worse. Danny had been hurt this time? Yet another person who was barely out of childhood... it filled Roan with rage. He kept said fury hidden away for now, however. Instead, his expression was calm and neutral as always as he descended from the sky, his jaw briefly clenching as he saw the state Danny was in. Roxie had at least patched up the canine's most significant injury – and had done a fairly good job of it, considering she wasn't a medic – but there were other things to be attended to, as well. With his blue gaze scanning over the other's body methodically, the medic found himself muttering to Vayne, "Calm down... panicking won't help him. I... I promise he'll be alright." He added that last part just for her sake, making some attempt to take his adoptive sister's emotions into account. He knew she was distraught, but he also knew freaking out would do little to help.

Taking a seat near Danny's side, Roan reached down into his satchel, pulling out several supplies that he would need. Marigold, bayberry, honey, and... horsetail. It was the ideal mixture for preventing infections, and the siamese knew that any infections could be dire for someone already injured, and so young. Mixing the poultice together carefully, Roan then began to apply it to Danny's face, covering the claw marks that lingered there. He did the same with the brand that had been carved into the canine's shoulder, although he seemed to pause briefly, swallowing down the rage that rose up. Once the poultice was applied, he carefully layered bandages over both wounds, making sure that they were firmly in place before he stepped back. As he did so, he muttered to himself, "That should be good enough, for the moment. I'll have to monitor him more at the temple..." The temple. Right. There was no way he could carry Danny all the way there on his own. He still hadn't entirely gotten down shifting into a dragon at will, so that wasn't an option either.

With a feeling of frustration rising in his chest, the medic turned to face Vayne and Harland, his tail lashing behind him. He addressed Harland specifically, questioning the male, "Do you think you can grab someone who can carry Danny to the temple? I'll need to monitor his wounds and re-apply his bandages when he wakes up." His gaze then moved over to Vayne, the male hesitating for a moment before he added on, "You could get someone too... if you can." He didn't really think she was in much of a state to go looking for help. The girl looked like she was practically going to fall apart on the spot – as if she hadn't already.

There were people around her, speaking to her. Roxanne tried to comfort her but Vayne barely felt her adoptive mother's presence. When Roan came over, the girl moved to give the medic some space but she couldn't stop staring at the wound on Danny's neck. Words... People were trying to talk to her, but they were muffled, she could hardly understand them. She blinked at Harland and Roan, her gaze blank, almost as if she didn't understand what was being said. "I..." Her voice was soft, strained. [glow=COLOR,1,400] ━ ✧*:･ﾟ[/glow]

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: georgia; color: #74657c; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 12px;"]ALL THE STARS ARE FIXED UP IN THE SKY

There was no sound to accompany the miniscule movement of his lips, repetitive grown repeated mantra, an echo of thoughts that had become a broken record. No room was left for anything else, gone the dull crash of each wave, the harsh voices of seafaring birds swallowed in that looping white noise, his focus solely upon ivory slow to turn, a thin trickle expanding. Throat closed, breath hitched and he tasted salt, hiccup arising and breaking into a hushed titter. He should not be laughing, knew this, teeth trapping the tip of his tongue but it was out there and he could not catch it, a fleeing bird that startled him.

"Roan." The name fell unbidden, his descent one without flair, business as always. This his perfect environment, suited for it though the hardship weathered for such an unknown, a mere guess all Harland may put forth though one he knew to be educated. How could any stomach this, witness death and injury in such volume and still stand upon the other side. Who chose such path, when did the desire to be the best they may and their innocent naivety towards the horror of their profession fade.

He was too young, they always were. Back he stumbled on unsteady paws, mouth working, the wish there to articulate anything, but each word died against his tongue. To silence was he once more reduced, hatred a thrown laden bloom that flourished in his chest, to whom it was directed he was unsure. Was it towards himself for the inability to be nothing but a nuisance, in the way when once he was trained, may have done anything to help, possibly kept the child he found himself so fond of safe. Or the one who had caused such grievous harm, uncaring that his target was little more than a child though the earring he wore said otherwise.

The threads of his throat broke as Roan completed his work and his attention turned, a few seconds passing as the words registered. He must leave, find someone who could safely transport Danny. Protest rose unbidden, visage grown taunt, frown fixed in place even as mouth opened, quickly all was gone, however, his features slack. This was the best he could do, something that was not merely waiting even as the idea of leaving Danny torn his heart asunder, this child who was not his own, held no connection beyond a resemblance that was uncanny. His own projection all it was, memories pulled forth and imposed upon another, undeserved the expectation he built out of want. For only the time it took to made apparent his understanding did Harland linger before he turned on his heel and was running, ever few steps his vision wandered even as he wished it might not, burned into his mind the lupine as he quickly moved towards a more populated area.

© MADI