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Natasha glared at Evan. “So what?”
“So what?” Evan repeated. “It's three in the afternoon and you say, 'so what'?”
“Big deal. I couldn't care less.” Natasha retorted, thoroughly annoyed. Actually, she was embarrassed, and angry. She had been careless and allowed herself to fall asleep, allowed herself to sleep past noon, and hadn't made sure she was alone before she spoke. Why had she been speaking aloud anyway? It was unforgivably foolish of her to be acting like a child, especially in a situation like this. She had to be more alert.
However, she did not allow herself to blush or wish the ground would swallow her. Instead, she acknowledged her mistake, had begun to give herself a good scolding, and when interrupted, aimed her anger at Evan. As far as she was concerned, he was asking for it.
“So, you don't care that you've been keeping us here all day? Brice almost came down here to shake you awake, and if he hadn't, one of us would've. But his wife was nice and insisted that you needed your sleep. In case you don't know, it has been incredibly awkward for the rest of us!”
Natasha nodded. “Good.”
Evan's mouth hung open. “You've been lolling around in in bed all day and have the nerve to... to...” he stammered to a halt, unable to find the right words. Natasha concealed a smirk. “I believe what you're trying to say is; 'The unmitigated gall of your words disgust me. Be ashamed of yourself!' She mimicked his voice and cadence in falsetto, mocking him. “Incidentally,” she continued in her normal voice, “I am already shamed. Not ashamed, but you may all try to shame me as much as you like. I'm not apologizing.” Evan's eyebrows knotted in confusion, then relaxed, as though he were giving up on a lost cause. “Why am I even talking to a selfish brat like you?”
“Because you wanted to pick a fight; why an illiterate baboon like you wanted that, I'm sure I don't know. Now make like a shoe and hit the road, dummy!” Natasha snarled, her bad temper beginning to break through her forced banter. A verbal spar immediately upon waking was not what she was accustomed to, nor did she appreciate having to fend people off as soon as her eyes opened.
Evan shrugged and walked off, probably to go tell everyone what a bad mood she was in now that she was up.
“Jerk.” she muttered, flopping back onto the pillow. Well, now what? she thought. She would've liked to sneak upstairs unnoticed, but since Evan probably told them she was awake, so they'd be expecting her. Sneaking up would show them that she was, in fact, ashamed and regretful. That would mean they'd expect an apology from her, with or without an excuse. If she had to apologize, she wouldn't make an excuse at all, because that would display weakness because excuses are pathetic. She was willing to take responsibility for her actions, but today she didn't feel like taking responsibility for her accident. Who cared that she slept in? It wasn't a crime. Inconvenient for everyone else, to be sure, but it wasn't like she did anything wrong. Besides, being bashful about anything was not her style.
Natasha sat up and stretched, folded her blankets and marched for the stairs. There was only one thing to do.

She ascended the staircase confidently, each step sure and firm. The door at the top was ajar. She opened it and closed it behind her with a quick, graceful and efficient motion. Her voice wasn't loud, but it commanded attention. “I assume you all have a game plan of some sort. I gave you plenty of time, after all.”
The silence was a little unnerving, but her determination would not be swayed. She hummed a bar or two of the Mario Bros theme song (a cappella version) as she poured herself a glass of water, acting as though she owned the place, much to the shock of everyone else. Inside, her heart felt like it would beat itself out of her chest. She knew she had probably stunned them with the sheer audacity of her attitude. She was determined to weather it out, though. “Well? Come on guys, surely you didn't expect me to come up with an ingenious plan while I was out cold? Where are we, where are we going, why didn't anyone jump on me to wake me at a more sane hour(?)-- not that I'm not grateful for the extra sleep, you understand –but I am surprised that you actually held yourselves in check. Kudos to you all for that. I guess I expected a little more action and a little less talking from you boys. Unless you,” she turned to Brice's wife, “have been somehow managing to keep them from... I don't know, strangling each other in their impatience from waiting for me? If so, it is a most impressive feat on your part, and so, I salute you.” She leaned against the wall with her left leg crossed in front of the right, toe down, heel up; arms only partially folded, and raised the glass in her right hand to 'toast' Brice's wife with a wink. The corners of her mouth tilted up in a ghost of a smirk. She didn't want to bluff too outrageously.
Evan tossed Matt an “I-told-you-so” look. Natasha addressed that next with a smile. “Oh, and Evan... next time you want to wake me-- don't. I promise that if you start shooting your mouth off the second I open my eyes again, I'll break your nose.”
She grinned. “Capisce?”


Jason glowered at the post. He looked around, picked up a leaf, and pressed it to the screen. It would never work. The waxy texture of the leaf would never register as a human fingerprint--
The screen requested a name, birth date, the place of birth, ect.
Jason stared at the screen, which displayed an image of the print that it had just scanned. It had scanned the veins in the leaf and his thumb underneath, so the leaf had changed his actual print and the post thought it was another person not yet registered! Jason laughed, unable to believe his good luck. He punched in some false data, established his fake identity, and pulled up a map of the region. It shouldn't be too hard to find... his way... back....?

The post was broken. It had to be. The things had been working for years, so this one had finally kicked the bucket, Jason reasoned. He kicked it once, half-hoping that it would fix itself. But, no, it stubbornly persisted in displaying the same map. It showed him that he was even farther from the nearest city than he had thought. More to the point, the nearest city wasn't the city he had set out from. No, the nearest city was the Architect Dimension. The Architect Dimension. Jason cursed. "Un- freaking –believable." He stared at the screen for a moment, and swore again. And again. “This is just my luck-- all bad! Was I cursed or something? What have I ever done to tick anyone off this badly? Ever since that trip into the Decimated Forest, I've had the worst run of bad luck in my entire life, starting with that brat! This is... this is just... I am so...”
He was so angry, he was having trouble putting it into words. Remembering how Vivian was never at a loss for words made him even angrier. He almost unsheathed his sword to start hacking at trees, but that would only blunt it. And curse it all, he'd forgotten to get a new sword from Kyle the blacksmith back in Celebration City! Jason picked up a thick stick, (or thin branch, depending on how you want to look at it,) and swung it at a tree viciously, over and over, as though he were holding it personally responsible for his frustration. Attacking the inanimate object with his improvised baseball bat allowed him to vent, but he couldn't order his mind to stop thinking. With this turn of events, he wasn't sure what to do next.

Jason didn't have a cell phone, exactly. He had a phone that literally did nothing but call people. Some might think it odd that he wouldn't have a phone that accessed the internet, but he preferred to use a computer for that. Cell phones like that were too easily traced, and he wouldn't have owned one at all except that he might want it for an emergency-- not for himself, but just in case someone else needed help, he would be able to contact the police or call an ambulance.
Be that as it may, Jason did not normally use the phone for any reason, and naturally did not exchange numbers with anyone. However, he had thought it prudent to swap numbers with a hunter named Nathan. Nathan seemed like a silent man by nature, one who would not abuse the fact that he could contact Jason, nor would he give that information to anyone with being asked and not without explicit permission. In fact, it would be easier to get the number from Jason himself.

So, should he call Nathan, find out where they were, and see about getting back to their group? Should he head to the Architect Dimension and hire someone to fly him back to Celebration City, so as to help keep looking for Kian? Or should he just walk away and forget about all of them?

Jason continued hitting the tree until he was tired, and not even the thought of Vivian's laughter could persuade him to keep it up. Every time the thought of stopping presented itself, the thought of her sarcastic mockery had served to incite him.
"Oh, that's mature."
"What did that tree ever do to you? The only issue I see is that it beats you in a beauty contest with half its branches tied behind its trunk."
"You're hitting a tree. Wow; I'm terrified. Oh wait, no I'm not." 
"Do you realize how stupid you look? Just wondering."
"Hey, why don't you start beating the ground or make hooting noises? It'll add to the primitive caveman effect."
"Boooooriiiiiing. Your imitation of a temper-tantrum is just... sad. Pathetic, really."
"That's right, waste your energy so you have to stay out here all night."
"If it's an angry dryad you're looking for, maybe you're just not hitting hard enough. Try it again!"
But after a while, he gave it up and slid to the ground, the bark of the tree all but smooth against his back. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, sighed, and wondered how his life had gotten so complicated.

"Why did you do that?"

His eyes snapped open. A pair of beautiful amber eyes, trimmed with long and thick lashes, returned his gaze.

crazy stuff

Maybe if everyone post the banner on their facebook pages or whatever they have, new people will join here ...

@cutesheep: You might be right. It's been a while since I invited anyone.
So, what do you think of my story? Too random? Too crazy? Or does that make it more interesting?


“Natasha.” Avery began.
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes..?” she prompted.
He continued by carefully enunciating each word, with a distinctive period after each. “You. Are. A. Brat.”
She pursed her lips, tilted her head to the left, and gave the ceiling a look that said 'Can you believe this guy?' She brought her laughing eyes back down to Avery's and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am. I'm actually surprised you guys put up with me at all. Your point?”
He shook his head. “No point, since you've already accepted that most people can't stand you.”
“And I can't stand most people,” she retorted with a smile. “I think we balance out pretty evenly.”
Over on the other side of the room, Natasha noticed Morgan whispering to Rita, who nodded in agreement. Her entire face darkened. She swallowed the almost-full glass of water in one gulp, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, set the glass down, and curtly thanked Brice and his wife for their hospitality. She then removed her decorative belt and admired it one last time. It was created out of tessellated pieces of twisted silver, etched with beautiful abstract swirling designs. The buckle was as simple as it was stunning: a turquoise Waterstone from a mermaid's lagoon, set in place with sterling silver. It had been quite pricey, evidence of one of her very rare splurges. She gazed at it for a long moment, then gave it to the wife as a gift of thanks. Finally, she tossed a dark look across the room and marched outside with an air of one who had just seen their mortal enemy approaching, all but slamming the door behind her.
Evan asked the question everyone was thinking. “What's her problem?”

Natasha tried not to slam the door, but only partially succeeded. Un- freaking -believable. She could just imagine the little whispers those two were busy exchanging. Rita was probably making more of them. Morgan probably began with, 'She's mean.' and Rita agreed, adding her own little disdainful comments.
'How disgraceful.'
'Not very ladylike, is she?'
'Rude little tomboy.'
'Avery has a point.'
Natasha knew she deserved to be chided every so often, and was usually willing to admit it when she was wrong (though she almost never was), and she practically welcomed a challenge. It made her livid, however, when people whispered behind her back. She absolutely hated it. If someone had a problem with her, they could just come out and say it to her face. If they hated her for practically no reason at all, fine-- but pretending to be nice and polite while whispering poisonous little comments behind her back drove her crazy. Men socialize by calling each other names, but they don't really mean it. Women socialize by complimenting each other, but they don't mean it either. The difference being that the men are just kidding around, and women are venomous, two-faced, backstabbing liars.

Rita and Morgan were probably going to ask her what was wrong when they came out. The men (excepting Avery, maybe) would just roll their eyes and shrug it off as a 'girls are crazy- Natasha, even more so' fluctuation, but the girls would be using tones positively dripping with false concern. Natasha loathed them already. They didn't care, they didn't even like her; so why would she ever bare her heart and soul to them? That's what they wanted, wasn't it? To tell them exactly why she acted the way she did, to spill her guts about her lousy life so that they could pretend to sympathize? “Come l'inferno.” she muttered in Italian. “Witches.”
The door behind her opened and shut, quiet but firm. “Is there a particular reason you stormed out like that?” Justin asked. Natasha tossed her head back in a derisive manner. “Can't say that there is. Doesn't mean there isn't a reason, just that I'm not telling.” She paused, and added, “I'm sorry. Seems like I just keep giving everyone a hard time. I'd leave, but technically you are following me.”
She turned and locked eyes with him, allowing a fraction of her real self to show in a genuine smile, small and apologetic though it was. “If you're here because you feel responsible for anything, for any reason, let me be the first to tell you that you don't have to stick around. Stuff happens. Get yourselves out of here while you still can. It's bound to get messy, but I can take care of myself. Have been for years.” Justin blinked, but said nothing. Natasha sat down on the ground, Indian-style. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Natasha asked, “Where d'you suppose Zack went?”
Justin's posture was relaxed, but he didn't lean on anything. “I don't know. Jason and Logan are AWOL as well.”
“Do they have cellphones?”
“Timothy found Logan's phone lying on the ground.”
“In the dark?”
“He thought he had dropped his own while escaping from the kudzu dome, but found that he had two phones in his possession earlier this morning. One turned out to be Logan's.”
“Go figure. Jason?”
“I hadn't asked.”
“Me neither. And the same for Zack?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, that's just great.”
“Logan will contact us at the first available opportunity.”
“Don't bet on it.”
Justin straightened and drew his shoulders back. “What was that?” His tone was that of a commander again, and the loyalty of one of his men was being questioned. Natasha had better know exactly what she was talking about.
Natasha didn't bat an eyelash. “I said, 'Don't bet on it'. He doesn't like me, and he resented having to follow everyone following me. He thought I didn't notice, but I did.” Once she started, it was hard to stop. “In fact, by the time he gets back to you, he'll have the rant of his life all rehearsed and will preform splendidly. He might even abandon your hunting crew.” She kept trying to tell herself to shut up, but her mouth wouldn't obey.

Justin's eyes were narrowed and his mouth was set in a firm line. He was getting angry. Oh, wonderful. she thought. Surviving life-or-death situations together tended to cause people to bond with each other; if they were a group of friends before they set out, the bonds would be even stronger. After observing them for a while, she confirmed that hunters were just a step below brothers. She was seriously out of line right now, but she couldn't stop. “He practically hates me, but he's been tolerating it because he trusts you. He doesn't care about me or Zack because our problems are exactly that-- our problems, and we're old enough that we should take care of it ourselves. You guys don't owe us anything, so you're not obligated to...” Well, at least she managed to stop talking, whether or not it was a lost cause.

Natasha wasn't aware that her face turned absolutely blank, wiped clean of any emotion. She simply forgot to put on her mask of indifference; she was too preoccupied to do more than internalize her true feelings, because inside, she was cringing.
She hadn't respected anyone for years; Justin had come the closest to getting it, and she was pretty sure she had just lost any goodwill he had had toward her. She could hardly believe it. She had actually liked him-- no romantic attraction, but she could tell he had the potential to be a great friend, like an older brother. Now, there was no chance of having that kind of friendship with him. If anything could be salvaged from this, it still wouldn't be the same.

Then her cold, cynical, clinical, and analytic side told her to just brush it off. After all, who cared? Not Justin. Not Morgan or Rita. Not Dylan, Avery, Matt or Tim. Nobody. She liked it that way, remember? One of the elements of friendship was mutual trust, and she trusted no one. The hunters weren't even relevant to her current situation. It was high time she wrung the information she wanted out of the man she thought of as Ninja, and tracked down Zack for the same treatment. Nothing else mattered at the moment. End of story.
But no matter how well she justified herself now, she had stupidly allowed herself to start getting attached to the hunters. She had to get out of there, ASAP!
Unfortunately, her detached, analytical side demanded an explanation for this impulse, and she began to argue with it.

“Running away again, are we?”

“I'm not running from anything.”

“Then why can't you stay? They've done nothing but help you thus far, and they could be of great help later. Admit it, every time you run into any problem you can't win or solve quickly and neatly, you avoid it.”

“Do not.”

“Do so. Get over yourself and grow up.”

“I don't have time to cultivate relationships right now.”

“What was your excuse before Zack showed up?”

“I was traumatized as a child when that thing killed my guardian-- my best friend, and my only friend.”

“Excuses, excuses. You're pathetic, letting that stop you from moving on. He would've said it wasn't your fault, you know it wasn't, and he would've wanted you to move on and cherish the memories you both shared. You are a coward, blaming yourself even though you know you weren't at fault, using it as an excuse to withdraw from society. You're manipulating his memory; disgracing his memory. You're using what's left of him to excuse your--”

“Yes, yes, I despise myself. My cowardice has kept me safe, free to loath my own existence. But now, I have a legitimate reason to abandon ship-- I have powers I can't control, so I need to stay away from people so as not to accidentally hurt them.”

“You don't know what your powers are; they're probably not even destructive.”


She was so busy arguing with herself, she forgot to keep her face blank. Natasha had no idea how accurately her facial expressions were portraying her emotions.


“Yeah, the giant black thing that follows me is destructive enough to justify becoming a hermit. Or have you already forgotten that in your sentimental loneliness? Buck up.”

“You buck up! Humans aren't meant to reject each other! What's your excuse for provoking irrational people on a daily basis? Why not just avoid angering them? Why do you fear bodily harm less than emotional pain?”

“Just... shut up!”

“You're lonely, that's why!”

“Shut up!”


“Natasha?”


“Admit it!”

“No!”


“Natasha?”


“Say it!”

“Shut up!”

“You're wrong!”

“Cut it out!”


“Natasha! Snap out of it!”


Natasha was literally shaken back to her senses. When she managed to uncross her eyes and bring her sight back into focus, she saw Justin gripping her shoulders and staring intently into her face.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

Skylar had chosen to pour the pink lemonade into a couple of brandy glasses. “It was a bit of a joke when I was a child,” he'd explained. “I'd pretend it was rose wine or champagne. My mother would tell me that it was a small wineglass for a small person, but it was simply less fragile than a tall wineglass. Really, the glass made all the difference to me. I always took special care not to drop it. I think it would be easier for you to hold than a mug, tumbler or flute.”
Skylar held the bowl of his glass with the stem between his fingers, explaining that cupping the bowl in that fashion was intended to warm the liquor, but in this case it was more for security.
It was a little easier to hold than the alien had feared. Its tentacles cupped the wide bowl and laced together around the short stem, so that it had no chance of slipping through its tentacles to shatter on the stone tiles of the kitchen floor.
The lemonade's taste was extraordinary. The alien's mouth felt as though it had swallowed a mouthful of liquid pins and needles. The sensation was almost painful at first, but then calmed to a pleasant tingle.
Skylar savored his first sip, watching the alien's reaction with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Not quite what you were expecting, was it?”
The alien gave him an odd look, not sure what to think of the lemonade or how to express it. Its face seemed to say all that there was to be said, because a highly amused Skylar began to chuckle; the kind of chuckle that was almost a laugh. “I don't suppose the flavor is anything like what you are accustomed to, is it?” The alien shook its head. Skylar was about to begin speaking again when Sebastian seized the moment to gain the attention of Skylar.
“Sir,” Sebastian began.
“Yes?”
“If I may interrupt, you may wish to begin preparing to meet your client.”
Skylar frowned. “Did I not ask you to cancel all the appointments scheduled for today?”
“You did, sir, but he insisted that you would not want to let this time-sensitive opportunity expire. I kept the reply vague, but you may want to--”
Skylar cut the A.I. off with a question. “Name. Did he leave his name?”

“He identified himself as 'Brice'.”




Jason found himself staring into deep amber eyes. That was really all he could see, as the owner of the pair was too close to allow him to see anything else. “Well?” she asked. Jason blinked once. “Um... Where did you come from?” “Over the hills and far away.” she said. Jason didn't respond for a moment. “I, uh, I'd love to tell you all about how I got here and why I'm frustrated, but you're kind of... invading my personal space right now.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said and pulled her head back into the tree which Jason was leaning against. Then she dropped back out and landed lightly on the ground; she nearly disappeared in the tall grass. Her long braided hair was loose around her face; it was such a deep red it looked reddish brown in the shadows, and the light that caught it turned almost golden. She wore tough-but-stylish leather boots; leggings; a mini-skirt of glittering chain mail; a red leather vest and matching fingerless gloves laced up to her elbows. Everything she wore was tinged with red or brown.
Oh, and one last detail that Jason had overlooked until he stood up-- she was about two (give or take) feet tall.
“So.” she began. “Hi. My name's Amber, I'm a fire fairy, and I'm the new guardian of this Area.”

Jason couldn't help staring; he'd never seen a fire fairy before. Her entire figure gave him the impression of smoking leaves that could burst into natural flame at any moment, and her outfit emphasized those qualities.
Tiny dresses and wings were from old myths about the Fey; normal fairies and sprites simply defied gravity.
Her features were delicate, yet strong; high cheekbones; arched eyebrows; small pointed nose; and ears that were pointed, but slightly rounded at the tips. Her eyes almost glowed, and her teeth were like a child's-- rounded, and perfect glittering white.
As a matter of fact, she didn't even look old enough to pass as a teenager, much less an adult; however, only fully matured adults were permitted to become Guardians. Then again, they might have bent the rules a little because of the sheer size of the forest and the fact that Guardians had to get out there immediately, before more cases of missing people popped up; Kian had gotten himself lost already, who knew how many more could get turned around in this maze of greenery within a week or two?
Amber rapped her knuckles on his forehead. “Pay attention! I'm the new Guardian, so you are my newest responsibility. What's your name?”
“Jason.”
“Are you lost?”
“I was, until I found that post.”
Amber glanced back at it. “Oh, that's where it was!” she grinned. “I was supposed to find it, you see. Okay, well, do you need help? Say, someone to guide you to wherever you need to go?”
Jason shrugged. “That's what I was getting frustrated about. I got separated-- twice –from the group I was with. We split in half, then I left that half to help find a kid named Kian. But now that I've gotten myself turned around, I don't know whether I'll even make a difference in the search for the kid. I'm only one guy, and I was just going to join a larger search party anyway. I could try to get in touch with the half we got separated from, but I don't even know why I was with them in the first place. I kinda got swept along. I could just walk away, but I'm somewhat responsible for some stuff that's happened.”
Amber's eyebrows raised a fraction. “Wow.”
“Not to mention that there's this girl--”
“A girl?” Amber teased.
“A totally obnoxious, immature, b*tchy drama queen who hates everyone and the feeling is mutual.” Jason amended. “But I'm sort of responsible for something that happened to her. I'd tell you what, but you wouldn't believe me.”
Amber shrugged. “So what are you gonna do?”
Jason sighed. “I have no idea. What do you think?”
“Well... whatever you did couldn't be all that bad, if you're considering going back. Who's this kid? And why didn't your friends come with you?”
“His name's Kian. We'd been traveling when the forest shot up around us, so we had to sleep out in the open. We got woken up by his sister, who had come looking for him. I figure that when the two siblings went missing, the parents got a real search going, instead of wandering around like the others are. I knew it was pointless, but certain people were bound and determined to keep looking their way. So, I struck out on my own, and here I am.” Jason finished. “New Guardian already, huh? That was quick.”
“Not really,” Amber said. “I've applied and been approved before, but we didn't need a Guardian in this Area until now. One used to be able to see the light from one post to the next with no problem, but this is the only the fifth post I've found since the growth explosion yesterday, so now I get my own Area to take care of! Speaking of which...”

She made a gesture with her hands and cupped them together. Reddish orange light glowed from her palms, and a small ball of fire began to dance just above her fingers. She magically rose up to the treetops and lifted her flame, which shot up in a swirling, expanding whirlwind of fire. A distant screech heralded a gryphon and its rider, both of whom arrived not five minutes later. “I see you found another one, Amber.” the rider observed. He was a tall man, built with lean muscles. “Congratulations; nobody else has managed to find as many as quickly as you have.” Amber smiled at the offhand complement and stroked the gryphon's head. “Actually, Jason here found this one. He got caught in the green explosion. Jason, this is Levi, Owen's handler.”
Levi extended a hand, gripping Jason's in a firm and brief handshake. “Pleased to meet you. I don't have much time for social niceties. I'm afraid. We need to get those posts uncovered as soon as we can. It could be dangerous for anyone to get lost around here, so I'm just glad I'm a Flyer. Let's see...” he turned to the post and pulled a paper map out of a pocket, marking it in certain places as he muttered to himself. “If this is here... then the next one should be about... here. If those three are there, there and there, this one should be about... here. Excellent!” he exclaimed, and turned to the fairy with a slight bow. “Thank you, Amber, you've been most helpful. Nice meeting you, Jason.” he said as he swung into his gryphon's saddle. “Owen, let's ride!”
It screeched happily and launched into the sky. Amber watched them soar and glide out of sight with a smile. “They're going to pinpoint the locations of some more posts based on the posts already found.” she explained. She tugged at her open vest to straighten it, then asked, “Well, have you decided what you're going to do next?”

Skylar started and almost dropped his glass. “Brice! It had completely slipped my mind. Quickly, Sebastian, how soon can you get the jet going?”
“I shall have it ready within fifteen minutes, sir.”
Skylar breathed a sigh of relief. “Sebastian, you are the best butler known to man.”
The A.I. almost sounded smug. “Thank you, sir.”
The alien tapped Skylar's shoulder and looked at him questioningly. “I have some business to conduct with a man by the name of Brice.” Skylar answered. “I must leave as soon as I can, I may already be late.”
He paced for a moment, then composed himself and looked the alien straight in the eye. “I hate to leave you here, but I don't suppose you'd be comfortable with flying?”
“About that, sir...” Sebastian almost sighed. “Did you also forget that your mother is due for a visit?

Skylar froze. “My what is what?”
“Your mother is due for a visit. She has not called to announce her intention to drop in, but she rarely does.”
Skylar's eye twitched. Then he glanced at the alien. “Well, that settles that. I hope you don't get airsick.”

True to his word, Sebastian had Skylar's private jet humming and ready for takeoff by the time he'd gotten himself and the alien ready to board.
Skylar had very few options available to him within such short notice, but he did his best.
That was how the alien found itself wearing a skirt, sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in a thin hooded cloak of crushed blue velvet. “The wheelchair was purchased for my father when he was stricken with an illness commonly known as polio; he ingested an accidentally contaminated substance while taking a tour of a laboratory he had monopolized. My older sister left this cloak and skirt behind along with some other costume items when she moved out with her husband,” Skylar had explained, “She was a prestigious fashion designer before she married.” He had also promised to try to find a better disguise for it before they returned.

The pilot was paid for one thing only: to fly Skylar anywhere, anytime. He rarely earned his pay, but when he did, he was required to be at Skylar's beck and call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He had helped Skylar wrestle the chair into the jet before going to the cockpit.

Skylar escorted the alien to the steps. “I'm sorry you have to wear that skirt,” he murmured softly, “But your legs are so oddly shaped when compared to ours. I doubt you could've worn pants at all.”
The alien glanced around, self-conscious for the first time since arriving. Its body structure was odd, indeed, but even more so the fact that the alien had been put so completely off-guard so soon. Its hearts beat faster as it realized anew exactly how dangerous this planet could be, and how it had trusted Skylar with its life! The idea of locking the door as it slept last night hadn't occurred to the alien until this moment; or the fact that Skylar could've had Sebastian unlock that door anytime he chose. Oh, the naïveté! It had always been so scornful of such trusting behavior in humans, who had an outstanding reputation for betrayal; yet, it itself had fallen into the same trap of trust.
Skylar lifted the edge of its hood with the tips of his fingers. “Are you alright? Your skin is a much brighter blue than it usually is.”
He looked worried. Was he worried about the alien's well-being, or was he simply concerned with the health of his new pet specimen? Was he really going to a meeting, or was this all a front for transporting the alien to a laboratory for the purpose of dissecting it? Was the alien a friend or an object to him?
But... this was one of the risks the alien had taken into consideration before It had come to Earth. It had to accept what It had chosen for itself. To panic and run now would be futile.
Like it or not, It had to trust Skylar at the moment.

“I must admit, you had me worried,” Skylar said, after the jet finally took off. The alien had gotten control of itself after the unexpected wave of paranoia subsided. “I was afraid you were about to die of fright, like my grandmother did...” Skylar began to talk again, and the alien felt itself relaxing involuntarily. It would have to be cautious, as Skylar appeared to be a master of social ease. The alien knew it was being lulled to sleep by his quiet, rich, clear, and soothing voice, but it couldn't help letting its guard down...




Natasha's breath caught in her throat. She froze, then recovered and jerked away. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with me,” she snapped angrily. “Keep your hands to yourself, why don't you?”
Justin looked like he didn't know whether to be angry or genuinely concerned about her.
“And furthermore,” her voice raised as she continued, “I never asked for you to baby-sit me. I am fully capable of dealing with my own issues, so you and your merry men can get the hell out of my life!”
She turned and sprinted for the woods- her haven of safety.
“Natasha!”
She kept running. She could hear Justin closing the distance, but that wouldn't last long. He wasn't built to run, but she was. She could hear the door opening, a few shouted questions, and a few of the hunters began hesitantly following Justin. The sounds of the mild pandemonium faded somewhat, but she kept running anyway. Why was she running? It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered. The next time that creature appeared, she would make it pay dearly for taking her life.

When she couldn't run anymore, she finally stopped and collapsed at the foot of a tree. Its branches and the plants around her moved to shelter and embrace her, responding to her distress and emotional need to hide and be comforted. Justin and the hunters had nothing to do with her. If Ninja really wanted to unite the power-users, she assumed, he could come and find her himself. He did it once before, hadn't he?
She remembered the way she'd spoken to each of them; obnoxiously, angrily, downright cruelly once or twice. Why did she always do that to them? It wasn't like they had hated her from the start. All she'd done was drive them up the walls. They weren't stupid or mean or manipulative, so she shouldn't have even begun to treat them so derisively. She was so used to dealing with morons, she'd thrown away her greatest opportunity for finding solid, healthy friendships with good people who could've been, in time, almost like family.
As tears welled up in her eyes, she mentally kicked herself over and over, regretting every second spent in their company. Then something made her look up. A gryphon circled overhead, preparing to land. Natasha quickly wiped her eyes and pressed herself against the tree as it landed with a thump on the grass. There was only a small area on the ground where there were no trees, and the gryphon managed to land in exactly that space, with no room for error. Impressive. Its handler leaped down with surprising grace and praised his gryphon profusely. He then looked around, tearing kudzu curtains away from different trees, searching for something. Natasha was still wondering whether she should announce her presence when the gryphon whipped its head around and looked straight at her with a piercing gaze. Then it screeched at her.

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It is awesome