"Holding up alright, squirt?" Vikktor asked her quietly, as he guided her through the mass of people, dragons, and children.
Treya gave a jerky nod, but pressed closer to his side and tugged at the light tunic Flikk had given her before they had left. A plain black, but for the stylized fire and lightning symbol that the Devyrs' used as their heraldry, the shirt was of a simple, sturdy fabric. Flikk had told her that this was what Devyr recruits wore to official events, and that he and Vikktor would be wearing similar. It was a calculated move, designed to make people associate her with the Devyrs, but she had to wonder how effective it would be.
Vikktor was rather striking in the black uniform, Treya thought. His golden skin sparkling where it wasn't hidden by the black, his gold-streaked black hair put in something resembling order, the symbol of the company edged in bright gold with a red double-bar above it. He looked dangerous. Competent. She just looked... skinny.
"Aah, here we are!" Vikktor grinned and calmly hoisted her up to sit on the high table that they had come to, then plopped himself down in one of the seats. "Flikk went off to tell Revent and Yikaeri that we'd claimed you. He'll be back shortly."
Treya shifted uncomfortably, still unused to the way Vikktor simply manhandled her around without a thought. She knew he meant nothing unkind by it, but it was still... disturbing to be moved so easily.
Then the meaning of his words sunk in, and she gaped at him. "Flikk went to do what?"
"Tell the leaders that you're ours," Vikktor repeated, "He seemed concerned that our little show would go unnoticed."
"Are you both crazy?"
"We've been called that," Vikktor agreed amicably.
She couldn't believe what Vikktor was telling her. The leaders were The Leaders, and one did not tell The Leaders that one of their younglings was claimed before they were of age to come to the Passing Gather on their own. It was unthinkable. Unreasonable. Bound to get one--
"And here he comes!" Vikktor announced cheerfully, as he waved. "Looks like he found Ansel in this mess as well. Yo, Ansel! Good to see you up and about!"
Treya broke out of her thoughts and observed the two that were walking towards them. Flikk looked like a predator in the sleek black shirt and pants, his company symbol also edged in gold, but topped with a white double-bar instead of red. His customary blue cape swirled about his legs, covering his wings, but something seemed... off.
It hit her, suddenly, as she turned her attention to the boy at Flikk's side. Flikk wasn't wearing his ever-present bandanna, his golden hair falling unrestrained about his face. The boy, Ansel, was wearing it, his red-brown hair slightly tamed by the wide strip of cloth.
Ansel is tiny! Treya thought in surprise, Surely he's not fourteen? He looks maybe eight or nine. But, no, Ansel was wearing the traditional Passing outfit, announcing that he was privileged to choose his own path in the Clan.
Ansel waved back at Vikktor, saying, "Hey, Vikktor! It's good to be up and about. I slept most of the morning away."
Vikktor chuckled and swept Ansel up off the floor and onto the top of the table next to her as soon as the boy got within reach.
"Not surprised, the way you passed out in Flikk's arms like that," he said over Ansel's growled protests at the manhandling.
Flikk rolled his eyes, then gestured towards her, though his attention was on Ansel. "Ansel, this is Treya. She's Vikktor's current charity case. Treya, this is Ansel. He's Vikktor's previous charity case."
Treya tilted her head to one, glancing between Flikk and Ansel, then grinned. Ansel was another of Vikktor's little projects, huh? She wondered whether it was just because of the boy's size, or for some other reason.
Ansel stuck his hand out towards her, then, saying, "Huh. Nice to meet a fellow sufferer."
She couldn't help it, she gently grabbed his hand and brought it closer to better see it. It really was tiny! Ansel's hand easily fit within hers, and she couldn't help but trace the little lines on his palm, run her fingers down his slender digits, touch the nails that easily disappeared under the tips of her fingers.
Flikk cleared his throat and Treya jumped, dropping Ansel's hand with a guilty glance towards the mercenary. She'd obviously done something wrong again, but she couldn't help it, Ansel's hand was so fascinating...
"S'alright, Flikk, I'm used to it," Ansel said as he smiled at Flikk. He turned his attention to her then, "So, you're a Devyr?"
Treya glanced over at Vikktor. She wore one of their uniforms, slept in their barracks, ate her meals with them... but it still felt surreal, like she'd wake up any moment to find herself back in Clan Micara, scavenging and hunting on her own, with just Mrrak and Kyar for company.
Eventually, she nodded, "Yes. They've taken me in."
She saw Ansel's eyes narrow and his gaze go to Vikktor in question. He clearly suspected something was wrong, but before he could say anything he was distracted by another man who was approaching their table.
Treya squirmed under his probing gaze, though she noted that Ansel met it with a combination of acceptance and resignation. What sort of messenger was this, then?
"Both of you already know my opinion on you," the fire-haired man began, directed his words towards Vikktor and Flikk, then fixed his attention back on her and Ansel. "You two kids, though... guess there's really no surprise here, considering where we are, but you're both Searched as well."
Searched. The word had an air of importance to it that struck a chord on her old memories. Images arose of eggs and tiny little dragonettes crawling across rainbow sands, of cheering as her elder cousin embraced a brilliant gold dragon, of knowing that she was to stand there one day, waiting for a little dragonet to chose her out of all others.
Ansel, however, sighed at the pronouncement, like it was his death-sentence. "Any idea where we'll be going?"
"Latest has it that the Avengaea Sanctuary has opened for a large bonding ceremony again. Both of you might like it there."
"Avengaea?" She asked in confusion. That was no Clan that she was aware of. Was it a new one?
"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."
She heard the amusement in his voice. Clearly, Flikk's actions had already reached at least a few ears beyond those of the leaders.
"Kerkael and I will meet you out on the green a bit before noon, alright?" Selverat continued when it was clear neither one had anything more to say.
When both she and Ansel had nodded, he turned and left, gaze already intent on the rest of the crowd.
"Cheer up," Flikk spoke up as Selverat left. He clapped Ansel on the shoulder hard enough to send the boy rocking forward a bit. "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 Ansel, "Speaking of sleeves, care to take a hack at yours?"
Treya watched in astonishment as Ansel accepted the dagger, held it for a moment, then gleefully began to shred the shirt he was wearing.
"You have no idea," he said while doing so. "You have absolutely no idea."
His enjoyment was so clear, so refreshing that Treya couldn't help but join in with Flikk and Vikktor's laughter.
Right then and there, she decided Ansel wasn't a bad sort at all. She didn't care what had caused Vikktor to take Ansel under his wing, only that he had, and now she had someone about her age to be a friend with.
Treya was cleaning up the common room after the early breakfast when Flikk came stumbling in, cradling his left arm and clearly out of it, his sky blue eyes unfocused.
"Flikk?" Treya tentatively asked, approaching the other. Mrrak began to growl at her side, and even Kyar perked up from his place on the floor, both of them fixated on Flikk.
Flikk didn't respond to her, just kept moving. As he stumbled past her, she finally got a good look at him, at the blood trickling down his neck, at the awkward angle of his wrist, at the way his clothing was stained red.
"Vikktor!!" Treya shouted, as she tried to gently guide Flikk onto a bench, only to have him shake her off and continue his stumbling progress towards his rooms. "Vikktor! Get out here now!!"
Vikktor bolted out of the training room, training blade still in his hand, clearly ready for anything from Treya being in trouble to armed invaders. Behind him, the few off-duty Devyrs stood, staring in shock at Flikk. Even Vikktor froze for a long, terrifying moment at the sight of his partner, before exploding into motion.
He tossed the dull blade to Zarilyna and crossed the distance between himself and Flikk in a few bounding strides, where he immediately scooped Flikk up into his arms and headed back towards the entrance of their area.
"Zarilyna, get a patrol out, see if you can figure out what did this to him. Haart, go with them, see if there's anyone else injured," Vikktor snapped. "I'm taking him to the infirmary."
The Devyrs went into motion in a heartbeat. One moment, there were a handful of humanoids milling about, the next, dragons were exploding into motion, sorting themselves into pairs and bounding out the door before Vikktor had even reached it.
At a loss for what to do, Treya trotted along in Vikktor's wake, her mind blank. Flikk never went out without Vikktor. Flikk had been ordered to rest, and rarely went against those orders.
Flikk was bleeding, barely conscious, and not reacting to Vikktor's words.
"Kelthin!" Vikktor roared as he shoved the door to the infirmary open.
Kelthin poked his head out of the back room, saw Vikktor, saw his burden, and immediately strode out, his bonds mere paces behind him.
"Lay him down," Kelthin said brusquely, as he gestured towards the healing circle on the floor and flooded his magic through it in preparation. "What did this to him?"
Vikktor shook his head. "I don't know. I have Zarilyna looking into it, but... he just, stumbles in, looking like this."
Kelthin frowned at that, but said no more as he examined Flikk, cutting the shirt away from the wound in his side, brushing Flikk's hair back to search for the source of that blood. Kelthin's hands slowly began to glow a bright green as he worked his craft... or tried to.
"I can't heal him," Kelthin's voice was flat.
"What?" Vikktor roared and started to advance towards Kelthin. Treya grabbed his arm, however, and looked pleadingly up at him.
It seemed to work. Vikktor forced his rage down and said in a more reasonable tone, "Explain yourself, healer."
Kelthin glanced up at his bonds nervously, then back at Vikktor. It was clear he didn't think that Treya was capable of keeping Vikktor from trying to attack him, but he answered Vikktor's question anyway.
"He doesn't have the reserves left. If I tried, I'd likely kill him."
"Then what the hell can you do?"
"A modified rejuvenation spell," Kelthin answered.
Vikktor frowned. "Modified how?"
Kelthin made a small gesture that Treya took for his attempt at telling Vikktor 'peace'. Not that Vikktor was interested in anything but Flikk's welfare.
"Modified to draw from others, instead of him. It would still cost him, and it will take longer for the spell to run its course, but it would work."
Vikktor didn't think for more than a few moments before he nodded and gestured with his free hand, "Do it. I'll think of how to keep him from exerting himself later."
"Send him with us," Treya spoke softly, so as to not disturb Kelthin, who was modifying the healing circle that Flikk was sitting within, resetting it to deal with the new spell that he intended on casting.
"Eh?"
Treya met Vikktor's golden eyes with a steady gaze of her own. "To Avengaea, with me'n Ansel. Send him as our keeper."
"Good idea, squirt," Vikktor said as he ruffled her hair affectionately. "Would you go pack some clothes for him?"
Treya nodded, glad to be given some task that she could do, and darted from the infirmary.
It felt strange, to be poking around Flikk's room. Every so often she'd come across a knickknack or memento that reminded her forcefully that Flikk lived his life passionately and hard. She had no idea what even half of it could mean, like the small collection of heat-twisted metal, or the carefully preserved flowers, all different, arranged in a star-form in a frame, or the two small chucks of grey stone, with bits of strange writing on them.
Shaking her head, Treya grabbed a bag and went to Flikk's wardrobe to pack some clothes for him. A uniform went in the bag, followed by a cape and a few headbands. How many capes and headbands, all identical, did the man have anyway? And some of them were practically shredded, testament to the fact that Flikk preferred to fight as humanoid, rather than dragon.
Shirts and pants and underwear went into the bag next. These, at least, not completely identical, though all were cut along the same lines.
Treya paused a moment and glance around the room. Flikk didn't wear boots, so she didn't need to search for those, but... was there anything else she should pack for him? A small blue stone on the bedside table caught her eye and she went to investigate.
The stone was the color of the summer sky, just like Flikk's eyes, and was set into a silver pendant that hung from a relatively heavy chain. Treya flipped the pendant over, her eyes tracing over the strange writing that covered the back, partially worn away by time (and Flikk's hands?). Puzzled, Treya drifted back to where the two fragments of stone rested and stared down at the markings on them.
The stones said the same thing, she assumed, since the marks were the same. Three words, two on one line, one on another. And that word on the second line was also on the back of the pendant. Was it Flikk's name in his native language?
Treya shook her head. It wasn't her place to poke into Flikk's history, no matter how curious she became. Never-the-less, she carefully set the pendant on top of the clothes and closed the bag. She needed to get this to Vikktor, then find Selverat and tell him that Flikk would be coming with them.
Plan in mind, Treya tossed the pack over her shoulder and trotted out of the room.
Treya walked alongside Vikktor, casting the occasional worried glance over at the still-unconscious Flikk that Vikktor was carrying. She had both bags with her, and she was already wondering how they intended to get Flikk to Avengaea. Selverat hadn't looked strong enough to carry Flikk the same way that Vikktor was, and neither she nor Ansel had the size or strength to even help much.
Her thoughts were interrupted, however, with a white... creature trotted up to them, its eyes fixated on Flikk. She'd never seen the like, before, with its strange, elongate head, huge silver mane, slender body and tail, and small plume of silver fur at the tip of tail. What was it?
Vikktor had stopped walking at the approach of the creature, then suddenly shook his head and spoke, as if responding to something she couldn't hear, "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 glanced from Vikktor to the creature, frowning. The only thing that made sense was... "Ansel?" She asked.
Vikktor shook his head slightly again, making her think that she'd guessed wrong, then answered, "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. She wondered what he meant by 'force a shift'. Weren't shifters capable of taking their forms at will?
"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 what she could only assumed was a shrug, and Vikktor answered for him, "He doesn't mind, Treya. Actually, his mother and father can't hear him either. He has to speak through their bonds."
"Oh! I guess I don't feel so bad, then," Treya said. It was surprising that neither of his parents had telepathy, when Ansel so clearly did, but perhaps that was something he had trained in? Maybe that was why only people with telepathy could hear him.
"He's going with the two of you," Vikktor said, clearly answering some question that Ansel had asked.
"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."
Treya watched in fascination as Ansel nodded, sat down on the ground, and closed his eyes. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but it became all too clear quickly enough.
He was changing. Or at least trying to. Vikktor's words about 'forced change' came back to her, and she realized with horror that that was exactly what was happening. Ansel was forcing it, going against something that desired that he stay as a beast.
It was almost sickening, the way his bones slowly snapped and ground their way into a human configuration. It had none of the grace that Flikk, Vikktor, or the other Devyrs showed when they changed, no matter how wounded or tired they were.
Ansel was clearly struggling, occasionally losing ground in one place or another. Treya watched in horrified fascination as his left hand wavered between human and beast, dew-claw snapping into place as a thumb, then back up into its previous location.
But nothing beat when his muzzle finally flattened into his face with a truly sickening crunch, and Treya realized that he couldn't breath anymore.
Mrrak growled his warning, and Vikktor sputtered a few words of protest as she dropped the bags to the ground and knelt at Ansel's side. She ignored both of them in favor of running her fingers gently over his face, then down his neck and over a shoulder, humming low in her throat the entire time. It worked to sooth Mrrak, it worked to sooth various Kouletti she had run with, so please heaven let it work on Ansel.
For a few heart stopping moments it seemed like it wouldn't, but suddenly Ansel's form snapped into place as human. Moments later, he opened his eyes and stared up at her, his eyes searching, questioning.
She tried to show her support, her friendship, and perhaps something of what she tried got through to him, because he relaxed and smiled faintly.
"Is it always that painful for you?" she asked as she helped him up.
Ansel shook his head, "Only during the day."
"Huh."
She didn't say anything more, as she grabbed the bags up again, then assisted him over to Kerkael and up the dragon's side. Truthfully, she was thinking over what she had seen, wondering at it.
The rest of the trip went by in a blur. Their travel through the Void, their landing on the field, even the trip into the infirmary was a haze in her mind.
She knew one thing, though. She wasn't leaving Flikk's side until he was awake again.
It was mildly reassuring that Ansel seemed to feel the same. Together, the two sat vigil. Waiting for the older man to finally awaken.
It seemed like an eternity.