* * *
Edward
* * *

I'd say everything's been a bit dark lately but that's untrue.  Grey, maybe, but that's still not quite it.  There have been colors, too, light and dark, bright and dull.  I just haven't given them any notice.  I haven't given anything any notice.  In a sort of freedom that I can't quite describe the bliss of, I've not been required to give anything that passes in front of my eyes any notice for... quite some time, I suppose.

* * *
Erynn
* * *

Gerude's eyes lock with mine as the dawn comes creeping up on the horizon.  He's glaring, but I'm not afraid.  He's angry, yes, but he's not using his Aim, and I trust Caerig and Kennit enough to keep him in line enough not to shoot me.  They like me for some reason, after all.

"He overpowered you."  My partner's eyebrow hooks upward in an expression much like his father tends to make, except that Gerude looks more exasperated than inquisitive.

"Yeah," I say, "He's pretty clever.  He got the drop on me."

Gerude turns his back on me with an exasperated sigh, then walks to the campfire.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

I don't want to describe the amount of relief that floods into me when I see Lyric for the first time in months, safe whole and healthy.  I shouldn't be relieved to take him into custody, even though he's in no danger of Judgment.  That fact is hammered home by Diyn's snickering in the back of my mind at the thought of Gerude bringing Lyric to Trial for absolutely no reason.

No, I shouldn't be relieved at all, but damnit Lyric's been away for months, under the authority of a dangerous, conniving woman, directly after getting into the most trouble he's ever been in.  Possibly the most trouble any of my children have been in, but that's debateable - I have a very active brood.  It's only natural to want to take him home and keep him safe and never let trouble touch him again.

* * *
Aaren
* * *

I really want to lie on my stomach.  I've been lying on my back, or sometimes my side, for a couple months now.  Schiphael dealt me some pretty heavy wounds.  I insisted on letting them heal naturally.  Sometimes we Armed do that.  Raven kept that scar across his face, says it was a lesson.  I have one on my face, too, and across my chest, and that big one from the wound that almost spilled my guts out.  For me, it's a reminder of...

Of...

* * *
Lyric
* * *

I watch.  I watch Myles from behind a big, safe, sturdy rock.  I watch him hack into one of the walking corpses with that great big sword of his.  He runs one of them through with a plunging motion that I wouldn't think possible, but somehow yes, he does manage to completely skewer the once-person with that bastard sword.  He pulls back then, to draw the blade out.

Then a grimace passes over his face, a sawing sound cuts through the air, and he realizes the blade is stuck in the monster's ribcage.  Meanwhile, a growl cuts through the air... or a mutter, or something else.  They always sound like they're talking to us.  That's the worst part, maybe.

Myles is definitely stuck, his grimace now a look of pure confusion.  "Thete?  You killed it, right?"  He wiggles the hilt of his sword, but the corpse stays on it.  Worse, it flails at him a bit, and makes what sounds like a whimper.

The sun shines brightly,
the shiner Stevane gave me
outshines it by far.

It's bright outside today.
To match the gorgeous weather
I wear a blue skirt.

Dreary clouds above,
even my clothes a meek black.
I miss my bright shirts.

* * *
Katherine
* * *

My days are pretty dull if I can't hunt somebody down to spend them with. To be honest, there's not a lot that anybody asks me to do - it's as if once 'Sy's gone, people forget that i'm around to assist them. So Jhe h'Logos's request is unexpected on several levels. That, combined with Jhe h'Logos's polite urgency, means that I respond lightning-fast.

Not to mention the fact that he summoned me to Daddy's chambers.

I'm halted by the wards before I can enter, and end up stuck outside his front door. What's going on? They've turned so thick and solid that I wonder if 'Sy could even get in. That doesn't happen unless there's direct danger to Daddy's life! I'd ask Jhe h'Logos what's going on, but it'd be quicker to just...

There.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

The night sky stretches on ahead of us, black and quiet, with only a dusting of stars to give us light. The breeze cuts across the grass, chill and dry and lovely. Already the green on the ground is thinning - soon it will give way to dry dirt and sand, and we'll be in the desert proper.

I've missed it. I miss being out here, on the path, moving. I've been cooped up in the Armed Hall or the Palace for far too long sorting out every little thing. It used to be different. I'm supposed to be out in the field, sniffing for trouble beyond our borders. Gathering information where it may be nesting. Most of all, exploring where my thoughts can roam. I haven't been able to go off some place where people won't bother me and just think.

Gerude and Erynn keep each other busy well enough, so there'll be plenty of opportunity for that.

* * *
Ebrelle
* * *

There's a knife in my hand. That means it's time to kill my brother again.

The motions are a well-practiced dance by this point, one I've memorized through repetition more than love. I tell myself it's just routine, just something for my mind to dote on as I dream. But my dreams never feel as if they're only dreams - possibly because in a previous life I knelt before Nul's throne in my nightmares.

But these are only dreams. Alestere, my dear brother, assures me of this, and he would know. I can trust Alestere, but I can't help but feel the wave of sorrow wash over me yet again as the knife hovers over his chest.

The Alestere I am killing isn't the one that talks me through my dreams during my waking life, though. That Alestere is an adult, but the one with a knife plunging down towards his chest is only a child. He was twelve when I killed-- when I split him. When I created Elete and Elessandre. When I broke my own world.

This is set with Elric being able to talk: a long way into the future then.

Lyric and Elric were lying together on the bed in Elric’s suite at the Poet Hall, the door to the bedroom was open and the main door to the suite was unlocked, as per the Judges regulations about the two’s meeting un-chaperoned. Lyric was half under the covers and tucked under Elric’s chin as he played with a strand to blond hair.

“Hey Elric?”

“Yes.”

“What was your mother like?”

“I didn’t know her all that well”

“Why not?”

“Well, after I was old enough to do without her, I moved more into the Laigr’s care, and my uncles.”

“Why?”

“Because the men of the clan train the boys and the women trained the girls, it’s only logical to fit people into their correct roles, at an early age. Although I never did fit into my correct role as the Laigr’s son…”