"Ow, hey, mom, quit that!" Ansel complained as his mother tugged the brush through his hair again. He tugged absently at the heavy cuffs of the shirt she had made him wear, feeling oddly strangled in the 'traditional' getup. Since when had his mother ever cared about tradition?

She merely tisked and continued to pull the brush through Ansel's hair, though her hands were gentler than before. He could feel her tugging his rebellious locks into something resembling order, with the help of bobby pins and some gel. Ansel fully intended on losing the pins before he reached the 'ceremony' and using the gel to give himself some wicked spikes.

Ansel glanced over at his father, where the man was sprawled out on the large rug like a Snow Lion accent-rug. "Dad, seriously, tell mom this is ridiculous. I've been around these people all my life, my suddenly turning fourteen isn't going to change a thing."

His father cracked one dark eye open, gave him an appraising look, then pointedly yawned and closed his eye again. Ansel truly hadn't expected much of anything, since his father couldn't talk at all in his lion form, but being ignored like that was insulting!

"Ansel, dear heart, you know this is about more than just turning fourteen," his mother chided gently. "This is about your future, about choosing a trade and seeing if you like it. Everyone important's going to be there."

"Yeah, and it's going to last well into the night, mom!" Ansel felt a growl escape his throat as his beast reared its head, struggling briefly for control. He grit his teeth and slammed it back down, deep in the recesses of his soul. He had spent the entirety of the day in his beast-form, it could suck it up and let him walk around as a human for the few remaining hours of day that remained.

His mother ran a calming hand down his spine. "Deep breaths, love."

"I know, I know," he responded with a sigh. "Besides, I don't see why I hafta go. Shonakasen's already accepted me, and she's not going to be there. None of the Flares are, they're all resting."

"You have to go because you were invited, dear," his mother reminded him. "That's the polite thing to do."

Ansel just rolled his eyes and kept his silence as his mother tutted over his hair until she was satisfied. There was something disturbing about his devil-may-care mother suddenly turning serious and insisting on him playing along with tradition. But Vikktor's words came back to him. The Clan was surviving.

Was it little things like this, going to an event that he had no interest in, that would keep the Clan together?

He continued to mull the thought over, even as his mother pronounced him ready and shooed him towards the door. The walk to the gathering passed in a blur until, with a start, Ansel realized he was standing in the open doorway of the Great Hall and he hadn't done a single thing about his hair or his outfit.

The sound of hundreds of conversations swept over him as he finally stepped into the room, and he fought to keep his expression neutral. He'd never seen this many people in one place before. Fury, he'd never even realized Akelara had this many people in it to begin with!

And this isn't even all of them, Ansel realized with a start. Parents aren't supposed to arrive until later, when all of us kids have made our choices.

He felt like a ghost as he drifted through the crowd of children and recruiters and well-wishers. He saw Eessa talking with one of his age mates about becoming a teacher, and Anrak and Zekielth talking to another about hunting. A small knot of Guards had taken over a corner, one for each shift, and were talking with a young dragon, probably about joining them. Veyalera, ever graceful and persuasive, had captured the attention of a small knot of dragons and children with her tales of being a warrior, while Aserat leaned over her shoulder and interjected counter-stories about knight-hood, their friendly rivalry continuing even in this place.

No one paid him much attention. The recruiters all knew that he was promised to Shonakasen's team, and that nothing they could say would sway his heart away from that goal. He'd never gotten close enough to most members of the Clan to have well-wishers around to encourage him, and his age mates were like butterflies, going from recruiter to recruiter, their attention only for those who could possibly guide them down a path they would enjoy.

Not that he was totally ignored. Eredal waved a cheerful greeting to him, and he waved back at the young Nightwatch member before the crowd closed around him again and he lost sight of the other. It was strange to see Eredal out and about in such a large gathering, but perhaps Orian was helping Eredal block his empathy so that he could be here.

Ansel shrugged. It didn't really matter to him in the long run. He wasn't terribly close to Eredal, just an acquaintance, really, separated by age and the fact that Eredal had a duty to perform that kept him up late at night.

In the mean time, it was more than time to get rid of the pins in his hair. Ansel plucked a few of the pins free and let them fall into a trash can he wandered past on his aimless path. Every time he sensed no one was looking, he plucked a few more free and discarded them somewhere inconspicuous, disguising his actions as best he could.

Eventually, Ansel glanced around furtively, trying to see if anyone in the large gathering was focused on him, then discarded the last of the bobby pins in a convenient potted plant he was wandering past. His dark red hair was already draped about his head in messy spikes, courtesy of the hair gel and a quick couple of swipes of his hand. Now he just needed to find a way to discard the heavy, unwieldy clothes.

"I was wondering when you'd pull your mother's work apart."

Ansel gave an undignified squeak as he jumped and shifted to face Flikk. Why did that damn whorling constantly have to sneak up on him? More to the point, how did he keep missing a tall, bright blue dracomorph? It wasn't like the man blended into the walls or anything!

He swept his eyes over the mercenary, noting the lines of exhaustion that were gathering at the corners of Flikk's sky blue eyes and seemed more pronounced every time he saw the other. Silvery scars marred the man's face and arms, one golden horn had a broken tip, his golden-blond hair was singed a bit, and Ansel suspected that those were the least of the injuries that Flikk had received during the recent fighting. At least Flikk's clothes looked fresh, the black outfit the closest thing to a uniform that Ansel had ever seen him in, though he noted that Flikk still wore his bright blue cape. It was odd to see him without the bandana, though, and Ansel couldn't help but wonder where it had gone.

Flikk chuckled, either unaware or choosing to ignore Ansel's scrutiny, and reached a blue, clawed hand out. "Here, thought you might want this."

Ansel glanced down, then back up at Flikk with wide, surprised eyes. "Your bandana?"

A small smile spread over Flikk's face, as he quickly brought both hands up and expertly tied the band around Ansel's head, his fingers flicking the long 'tails' over Ansel's shoulder and down his back.

"There, that will help keep that hair of yours under control," Flikk said as he stepped back and cast an appraising look over Ansel. "I can't, however, do anything for that outfit."

It was Ansel's turn to chuckle. "How'd you know?"

"You keep tugging at the sleeves."

"That obvious, huh?"

"Absolutely," Flikk said. He gestured vaguely towards the opposite wall. "Well? Come on, Vikktor's over there somewhere, and I assume you'd like some friendly faces to talk to?"

Relief flooded through him. At least I won't have to spend this entire gathering flitting about like a ghost. Ansel thought, as he nodded his thanks to the mercenary.

Flikk smiled warmly and pulled Ansel closer to his side as he began to weave his way through the gathered crowd. Ansel, in turn, grabbed a fist-full of bright blue cape and clung tightly, unwilling to be separated from his savior.

When they finally broke through, Flikk took a moment to scan the people seated along the edges of the room, then gestured towards a table a little ways away. "There they are."

And, indeed, there they were. Vikktor was seated at the table, in a similarly uniform to what Flikk was wearing, talking with a girl who was also wearing the Devyr uniform, though her unit patch wasn't bordered by gold like Flikk and Vikktor's were.

Ansel had never seen her before in his life. She sat on the table itself, body coiled to spring, her jagged brown hair swirling about her head as she gestured angrily at something Vikktor had said. She reminded him of a fox he had seen once, growling and barking at a wolf, defending her den against the bigger creature.

Right then, Vikktor turned and spotted them, lifting an arm in greeting and calling out, "Yo, Ansel! Good to see you up and about!"

The girl instantly turned to see who had caught Vikktor's attention, and Ansel felt himself shiver at the intensity of her gaze as it swept over first Flikk then himself.

There's one huntress I don't want to get on the bad side of! Ansel thought as he waved back at Vikktor. "Hey, Vikktor! It's good to be up and about. I slept most of the morning away."

Ansel was instantly on alert when he heard Vikktor chuckle, but even that wasn't enough to get him out of range quickly enough. He found himself lifted through the air and plopped down on the table-top next to the girl, despite his growls and muttered curses.

"Not surprised, the way you passed out in Flikk's arms like that," Vikktor said as soon as he released Ansel.

Flikk just rolled his eyes, then indicated the girl he was sitting next to, "Ansel, this is Treya. She's Vikktor's current charity case. Treya, this is Ansel. He's Vikktor's previous charity case."

"Huh," Ansel offered his hand to Treya, "Nice to meet a fellow sufferer."

He hadn't expected her to gently take his hand and begin examining it like it was the first of its kind that she had ever seen. Normally, he'd have jerked his hand back with a scowl and a growled comment to leave be, but...

It was like she had no idea that she was being rude, or that he might not want his hand examined so closely. Her touch was so gentle that it tickled, damnit, and Ansel almost yanked his hand away because of that! There was an innocence about her, a curiosity that said 'I'm curious because I want to understand, not because I want to tease'. And, well, he could relate to that.

When Flikk suddenly cleared his throat, and Treya jumped and dropped his hand with a guilty glance towards Flikk, Ansel knew he was right. Those two actions said it all, she didn't realize that people didn't normally act like that, and Flikk had taken it upon himself to teach her.

Heavens know, the rest of the mercenaries aren't going to teach her anything but how to be a good little spitfire, Ansel thought with a mental chuckle. Vikktor's probably already taught her some bawdy songs to sing, under the guise of initiating her into the fold.

"S'alright, Flikk, I'm used to it," Ansel said with a small smile, and added mentally. ::Don't worry about it, really. That's normal for her, isn't it?::

Flikk relaxed at his reassurance and took his own seat. ::Quite. As far as I can tell, she spent the time between seven and now on her own.::

::Harsh. Alright, consider me warned.::

"So," Ansel said out loud, "You're a Devyr?"

Treya paused a moment, glanced at Vikktor, then nodded. "Yes. They've taken me in."

Ansel's eyes narrowed slightly at her phrasing. He sensed bad blood here, somewhere. Obviously not between her and the Devyrs, not if her easy comradery with Vikktor was anything to go by, but between her and someone.

Vikktor caught his gaze and made a small gesture towards the rest of the gathering.

That can't be right. The Clan denied a kid a place? It seemed preposterous, after everyone else the Clan had taken it, that they'd deny Treya a place, no matter what her failings might be.

He opened his mouth to ask, but snapped his jaw closed as a tired looking Selverat wove his way towards their table. Are all adults running on their last legs? Ansel wondered as he watched the fire-haired man come to a halt nearby and sweep his gaze over their little gathering.

Ansel knew exactly what Selverat was looking for. The man was Searching.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Selverat's mouth, but he addressed Flikk and Vikktor first. "Both of you already know my opinion on you. You two kids, though... guess there's really no surprise here, considering where we are, but you're both Searched as well."

He sighed, having known this was to come. Child of two riders, it was unlikely that he'd not be Searched at some point in his life.

And what chance that a dragon would want some mutt of a shifter, who can't even control his own shifts? Ansel wondered.

"Any idea where we'll be going?" He asked. If Selverat didn't know of any places with clutches, currently, then maybe he could wiggle out of it, get Shonakasen to take him out on a long run.

Selverat promptly dashed his hopes, however. "Latest has it that the Avengaea Sanctuary has opened for a large bonding ceremony again. Both of you might like it there."

"Avengaea?" Treya asked, clearly confused.

"It's a world with dragons that can shapeshift," Selverat said, his eyes lingering on the Devyr patch on her shoulder. An amused smile flickered across his face for a moment before he was all seriousness again, "Considering the group you've been, ah, claimed by, I thought that might appeal."

Ansel frowned. What the hell was Selverat hinting at? He didn't have time to question the man, though, because Selverat was already continuing.

"Kerkael and I will meet you out on the green a bit before noon, alright?"

There was nothing he could do but nod his acceptance and watch as Selverat turned to leave, tracking down another knot of children.

"Cheer up," Flikk said as he clapped him on the shoulder. "With a dragon, it'll be easier for you to keep up with Shonakasen and her team, even at night."

"Yeah, I suppose." Ansel answered, then shrugged. "Thanks, Flikk. I just hope tonight has no more surprises up its sleeve."

Vikktor guffawed, drawing a dagger from his belt and offering it hilt first to him, "Speaking of sleeves, care to take a hack at yours?"

That put a grin on his face, and he accepted Vikktor's dagger with mock solemnity. "You have no idea," he said as he gleefully cut away the heavy fabric. "You have absolutely no idea."

The three mercenaries with him burst into laughter at his obvious glee at shredding the shirt. The night was finally begin to look up.

---

Ansel sprawled on the ground at Kerkael's feet in his fossion-form, waiting for Treya to show up. He wondered how she'd react to seeing him like this. Would she think him just some dumb beast? Would she treat him just like she had last night?

"Here they come," Selverat spoke up.

Ansel glanced up and blinked when he saw Treya, followed by two Growlers, Vikktor, and... an unconscious Flikk?

Anxiously, he rose to his feet and trotted over to the mercenaries. ::Vikktor, what happened?::

Vikktor shook his head, "Don't know. Flikk showed up this morning looking a mess, and Kelthin had no choice but to cast the rejuvenation spell on him."

Treya interrupted, a frown on her face, "Ansel?"

::Yes.:: Ansel replied, wondering if Treya had telepathy.

Vikktor shook his head slightly, then addressed Treya, "That's Ansel. He has to take beast-form during most of the day. I expect he'll force a shift back in order to get to Avengaea, but it's much easier for him to stay like this during the day."

"You can talk with him?" Treya asked.

"Flikk and I both can, as can anyone with telepathy."

"Aww, damn," Treya wrinkled her nose in annoyance, then huffed and looked down at Ansel, "Sorry, guess I can't hear you."

Ansel gave his best shrug, ::Tell her it's alright.::

Vikktor grinned, "He doesn't mind, Treya. Actually, his mother and father can't hear him either. He has to speak through their bonds."

"Oh!" She seemed surprised at that, "I guess I don't feel as bad, then."

::So what's going on with Flikk?:: Ansel asked, eyeing the two bags in Treya's hands. Was she taking that much with her, or...

"He's going with the two of you," Vikktor said, confirming Ansel's guess.

"Everyone ready?" Selverat asked, coming up and looking the small group over. "Vikktor, are you coming with?"

"Then straight back, yeah," Vikktor nodded. "Didn't think you or the kids were too interested in trying to lug Flikk's unconscious form around."

"My arms and back thank you for your consideration," Selverat replied with a smile. "Well, let's get going."

Ansel nodded, then focused, forcing his body to take human shape so he could mount Kerkael. Technically, he could ride in a neck-sling, but he didn't particularly feel like sharing the ride with two unknown Growlers.

Still, as his bones stretched and ground into place, as his beast struggled furiously to retain control, forcing the change to take longer, to hurt more, the thought was tempting. Changing like this wasn't the smooth transition like it was at dawn and sunset, where his body just flowed between forms. Changing like this was like struggling through a pit of mud. Sometimes he managed to slog forwards, other times he slipped back, the beast forcing his body back towards fossion form.

For a long, terrifying moment he couldn't breathe, as his muzzle crunched into his face and closed off his air-ways. The beast struggled, flailing harder as it sensed their inability to breathe. Ansel grit his teeth and tried to force it back enough to give him his human face... or at least a method through which he could breathe!

Suddenly, fingers stroked his face, down his neck, over his shoulders. Gentle and soothing. His beast stopped struggled, fascinated by the touch, and he took the opportunity to finish the change.

Somehow it didn't surprise him, when he opened his eyes, to see Treya crouched next to him, the bags set to one side, her fingers still trailing over his upper body. She clearly had none of the issue with shifters being naked upon change that Flikk did, and, more interestingly, didn't seem disgusted by the violent shift he had just forced upon himself.

"Is it always that painful for you?" she asked as she helped him up.

Ansel shook his head, "Only during the day."

"Huh."

She seemed deep in thought as she helped him over to Kerkael, then up the dragon's side and settled in behind him. Vikktor, the cheater, used his wings to carry both himself and Flikk up to settle gently in their place.

Kerkael rose up, then, and scooped the two Growlers up and situated them in the sling about his neck.

"All right, and off we go," Selverat announced, and Kerkael crouched and leapt towards the sky, wings beating strongly to lift them above the Clan.

The darkness and chill of the Void came and went abruptly, and Ansel looked down on Avengaea for the first time in his life. It was nothing like what he had thought, sprawling in a way the Clan didn't, with no distinct landmarks that he could see as such.

He shivered in the wind, wishing for clothes, or his fur, but a moment later a bubble of warmth surrounded him.

"Sorry, forgot about that," Selverat said over his shoulder, "Not used to flying with a shifter along."

Ansel nodded his thanks, then went back to examining the place as Kerkael spiraled down for a landing. As soon as they were on the ground, he slid down the dragon's side and let his beast out of the cage he had shoved it in.

Like a boulder rolling downhill, his body flowed from human to beast more quickly than it did at dawn. Ansel really, really hoped that there were people around who could understand him, or else he was in for a long, lonely stay, Flikk at his side or not.