lastbee

[lastbee]

17 - it’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you

Swear to me that you won't pick bears, Wire says. I hate Bear.

Wren smiles. "I promise I won't pick bears."

His experimentation comes to an end quickly enough, Wire nothing but a quiet hum in the back of his head as he continues through the forest, stopping to look around the trees, trying to decide whether or not to seek out Hawk and Teal. But, Kestrel had a point - they do need to find their affinity, as Wren did with Wire. This really might be the most expeditious way to do it. But it leaves Wren at loose ends, dangling metaphorically in the forest as he walks through the trees.

Really, the only thing left for him to do would be seek out the house in the forest that Kestrel had mentioned before deciding to try and scare them into making a pact with something. And why had she done that, anyway? Obviously it served as a catalyst and a way to get them moving, but it still seemed...odd. It didn't fit.

Frowning, Wren stopped, leaned against a tree, and considered the situation. He shifted the wire around his hand in the process, just a slow wave of metal as he thought, an absentminded use of power, since he had to get used to it. What motivation would there be to attack them, other than to get them moving? Wren couldn't think of anything, beyond an inherent desire to destroy people. Or something even darker.

"Are there any deals that require you kill people?" Wren asks.

It takes a moment, but Wire eventually answers. Yes.

Wren waits for more, but receives nothing but an awkward silence. He lets out a frustrated huff. "I'm not trying to get one myself, Wire, I'm trying to figure out if Kestrel really might be after Hawk and Teal," he says. "What kind-"

Leave it alone, Wren, Wire says, gentle in a way that makes Wren shudder. But I doubt that's what Kestrel is doing. That's a special kind of pact, and you wouldn't work.

"Well that's...slightly reassuring," Wren says with a sigh, and figures he might as well keep heading for the house. There's no way to know where it is, but it's at least something to do.

Wren wishes he was surprised that some of the Magi are involved in human sacrifice. But, there's almost always a kernel of truth to every legend, and Wren has never been one to try and trust the Magi to be good. There are shadows to them that Wren doesn't look forward to removing. But what would require human sacrifice? Death, probably. From what Wire has told him, it seems like it's always at least slightly fair when you sacrifice something. A life for a life makes sense. He doesn't like it, but it makes sense.

He shudders when the thought of a Magi's immortality comes to mind. Mezzo made it sound like something natural and automatic, something that happens to all Magi. The concept that every single one of them has murdered - no. If there's an entire subset of Magi devoted to life and healing, there's no way murder would be a requirement.

Plus, Wren's officially a Magi now, and he sure hasn't killed anyone.

But.

He remembers his mother - or the concept of her, at least. He remembers his father's grief, that shadow that would come across his face at baby pictures. He remembers that word, that single word - she died from complications.

He stops walking, horror clawing at his heart. "Did I-"

No, you didn't kill anyone, and yes, you're wrong, Wire says, and Wren lets out a deep breath of relief. Well, mostly. Asking Death for things can require another life, depending on the situation. But it wants the Magi's life. Most of the highest powers have pacts like that - you'll get something, but you probably won't be around to use it. Not everyone's as nice as me!

"You're very nice," Wren agrees, but still feels as if he's teetering as he walks through the forest, trying to listen for something that could be indicative of the house, or maybe smell something, or see something. He won't think about it. And Wire would know, wouldn't she? Wren imagines there's some sort of supernatural pact capability list - things in the sacrificable column, and the already taken column, like his soul has an inventory that things like Wire can look through.

It occurs to Wren that this is still meant to be a way to practice, and figure out what exactly he's doing with these Magi powers of his. "Can I make a deal with a rat or something just to find out where the house is?" Wren asks.

If you want. But don't touch anything inorganic, Wire says, and there's a strange impression of a dangerous metallic glare. That's mine.

Wren nods, and looks around, trying to think of what to ask, let alone what he can find. The easiest way to find out where the house is would probably be a bird, so he looks up, trying to listen for a bird, for anything that could help. Getting into the treetops would be the best way of doing this, really, so he considers his coil of wire again. There's another large tree near enough that Wren can step next to it and think.

He could climb the tree, but, well...that's not as fun. Wren has no doubt that he could catch himself if he fell - he'd just have to think it's not happening and grab on to something with the wire.

So. What would be fun?

Wren grins, and the wire shoots upwards, spiraling into the air and wrapping around one of the more solid branches, and the wire tightens, tense and rigid and stretched. Wren wraps the end length around his arm (and hopes he won't rip his arm off), decides he's ready, and jumps off the ground. The spring he's created launches him upwards, a toing of noise as Wren shouts (well, screams) as he whooshes upwards, and keeps going well beyond the branch he'd tied the wire to, and oh shit, he reaches out because the wire will absolutely shoot upwards with him - and faster than him! So he'll stop where he needs to!

The wire does move, it unlatches from the branch below, but apparently even Wire can't outrun everyday physics and there's no time left because Wren has to brace for impact and reach out for one of the highest branches. He bashes into the tree directly in his chest, and gasps at the pain - and he can't keep his grip, but Wren doesn't need to because the wire finally catches up to him and becomes light and gentle, like a spider's web, and wraps him up, attached to the branch and swinging there like a metal hammock.

Wren can't stop shaking, can barely breathe. He curls inside his wire cocoon and coughs, lightheaded from the pain.

That was so fun, Wire shouts in absolute delight. Let's do it again!

Wren wheezes, and coughs again, sore in far too many ways.

Well, at least he knows it works. And that he can do this spidery cocoon thing. And also, apparently, turn one kind of wire into any kind of wire he wants.

You can only do that because you have me. As in Wire, and not just some wire, Wire informs him smugly.

"Thanks," Wren wheezes out.

"Why, I didn't have to do anything at all," someone says, and Wren twists, but he's in too much pain to do it quickly, or without groaning at the hurt just from moving.

There's a woman crouched in the tree like the spider Wren's web belongs to, head tilted in consideration of the scene before her. She has short blonde hair, pale skin turned gold by the sun, and deep brown eyes locked on Wren. Her outfit reminds Wren of field archaeologists, although the delicate strands of gold and what looks like diamonds hanging over her white tanktop make it a little...strange. She's a strange beautiful blend of no-nonsense functionality and priceless jewelry - earrings, bracelets, the overpowering necklace, even her gritty blonde hair is held back with an emerald headband bordering on a tiara.

Probably a pact, Wren thinks immediately, and wonders what would require jewelry of all things.

"You seem very talented for someone who's been a Magi for about two days," the woman says, in a smooth clear voice that makes Wren think of old movies. And he can't stop staring. The woman is...captivating. He can't ignore her. For a long time, Wren can only examine her - chapped lips, the slightest hint of laugh lines near her eyes, chipped red nail polish - "Oh for fuck's sake."

She takes off a bracelet.

 He can think, and all he sees is a mind-manipulating Magi who he needs to get away from as quickly as possible.

Wren immediately twists, ignores the pain, and snaps the wire pack around his arm. He drops, and tries to remember how to breathe as he snaps the wire out again, wrapping around another branch to slow his descent to the forest floor.

"Oh, now that's just unnecessary," she calls out from the tree, and Wren feels close to vomiting when he's on the ground again when he drops down and has to hold his own weight. Still, he stands, and does his best to run.

He believes with every inch of his mind that he's not in pain and he can run just fine.

It doesn't do a damn thing.

You're funny, Wire comments, blasé and not remotely worried. Not that she should be, considering she's an abstract concept. How could you make a pact with yourself, Wren?

There's probably an abstract concept inside of him that he could make a deal with - blood, bone, muscle, something, but the idea of what that would cost keeps him moving as much as he can.

"Stop running, I'm not going to hurt you!" the woman shouts, and there's the shift and crack of branches as she climbs down. She's going to catch up, and he's not going to make it. Wren doesn't even know where he's trying to make it to.

Wren spots the shift of wings in a nearby tree, and immediately turns towards it. "Bird! I need help!"

That's not how it works, Wren, Wire says, coiled in amusement.

"Then stop laughing and tell me how!" Wren snaps, and regrets it as his ribs ache even more.

How do you talk to me, Wren? How did you move through THE ABSTRACT CONCEPT WORLD? Wire asks.

Wren has no clue how he does that. There's no precise way, it just - it's all just a ridiculous blend of self-delusion and firm belief that he's going to talk to a goddamn bird, and he is-

and he's running through darkness, through sludge, and there's an owl in front of him.

It's an absolutely massive owl, with bright orange eyes.

Weirdly familiar eyes.

Wren can't help it. He immediately says, "Holy shit, Mezzo."

The second Mezzo's name is out of Wren's mouth, the owl lets out an enormous put-upon sigh, car-sized head twisting to look up at the void above them. "Fuck my life. Fuck everything so hard," the owl says in a grand booming voice that doesn't match the words in the least. It's like listening to a Shakespearian actor recite mindless pop song lyrics. "Like, five times. Fifty times. That sneaky little -

and Wren is back in the forest, watching the owl flap off into the forest.

[lastbee]

16 - experimentation time!!!

They step through the portal, and it's as Kestrel promised - it's nothing but a forest. There's the sound of birds chirping deep in the foliage, and it's obviously a late morning, dappled sunlight sneaking through the leafy canopy in a bright strip of light that trickles into the undergrowth that they're standing in. The door shuts behind Kestrel as she steps through, no-nonsense as she tromps over a fern and then moves into the forest, waving a hand at them to follow her away from the massive door. It's amazingly out of place-looking, a portal that belongs in ancient Rome instead of a forest, but Wren isn't able to concentrate on that for long. Shoving their way through the greenery, Wren and Hawk and Teal follow Kestrel's red cloak into the forest.

"This is a very simple test, like I told you," Kestrel says again, still leading them forward without looking back. "You are going to just...be in the forest, and hopefully pick up an affinity for something."

Wren watches the door, and isn't all that surprised when it suddenly vanishes out of nowhere, just there and then in a whump noise it's gone, nothing but a tree where it stood in the distance.

He expected that, but it's still frustrating. "We're stuck out here, since the door just vanished," Wren informs Hawk and Teal, who are just as unsurprised as he is.

"That's why you are going to need to make your way to the cabin in the woods," Kestrel says, and finally turns to look at them, smiling a little bit. It's not a nice smile. It's the kind of smile you get when you've won a card game through pure trickery. "Of course, I can get out of here at any time, but you three need to find a way of your own."

"And an affinity is going to get us out?" Teal asks sharply, extremely alert. Hawk, meanwhile, is scanning the forest with a caution that makes Wren think that there probably is something in the trees, no matter what Kestrel says. "All we're here for is so all three of us have an affinity to something?"

Kestrel just shrugs, which is so amazingly helpful that Wren has to clench his jaw. But, this will be fine. They only have to get to a house. That's easy enough. Wren can feel the wire wrapped around his arm, and it's reassuring again. This will be an easy enough situation.

"It's more that it'll help you survive," Kestrel says, and starts walking backwards, hands rising out of her cloak as if they're being lifted on their own, like they're tied to two slowly ascending balloons and her hands are limp but her wrists guide her arms upwards. "And I didn't lie - there's nothing dangerous in this forest. Not until right now, at least."

"There's something around her fingers," Hawk says sharply, and grabs onto Teal's shoulder, as she's closest. "We need to-"

"Dodge," Wren shouts before he even realizes what he's doing, and obeys his own advice with a gasp as he throws himself against the dirt. Something tingly goes over their heads, and Wren tries to get a good look at Hawk and Teal, but the dirt in front of his face explodes, and Wren fights to roll to the side, into the bushes and out of Kestrel's line of sight. It's easy enough, but he can hear her blasting that whatever it was into the forest, and Hawk is shouting something, and Teal is shouting something, but it's so far in the distance that all Wren can do is hiss out a breath and try to keep his hands over his ears as the cacophony gets louder, and louder, and louder, until finally there's one final massive blast - a huge shockwave, an explosion from just what feels like twenty feet away.

And then, it's silent.

There's a crinkle in the underbrush, and Wren dares to look up, getting onto his elbows and knees and peeking through the leaves to see a small crater back where he'd seen Kestrel standing before it was time to run and evade her attacks.

Wren will never, ever trust Maji, and he's grateful for that complete distrust and wariness keeping him alert when there's something like this happening, over and over again. Mezzo seems to be the only - well, no, even that Wren doesn't trust. The fact none of the other Maji seem to like him is actually a point in Mezzo's favor, but Wren will never trust it. Ever.

When he decides that it's definitely safe, Wren carefully rises to his feet, grimacing at the dirt on his clothes. He's not a neat freak or anything, but he doesn't like being dirty. Still, he brushes it off of his casual jeans and long-sleeved shirt, and his hand presses against the wire coiled against his bicep in the process. He doesn't have much muscle, just the meager strength required from PE courses in high school, and he absently finds himself smiling slightly at the idea of nobody commenting on how he suddenly looked like a bodybuilder and nobody felt like commenting.

Because I didn't want them to comment, Wire whispers in his mind.

"You're actually here," Wren says quietly, and can't help the small quirk of a smile that comes across his lips at the tinny sound of Wire's voice.

I'm always here, Wire replies, and there's another sense of warmth in the coil around his arm. What's the plan now, dear?

He wants to comment on how he's suddenly dear, but instead moves forward, walking cautiously through the forest. He is nearly tiptoeing around the small crater that Kestrel left behind her in the extravagant overblown show to get them all scattering and feeling somehow threatened. Wren just feels like he's so extremely done with Maji shenanigans. The last wilderness excursion had them all on edge because they were going to die of exposure if they weren't careful, not to mention the fear of the unknown. Now, they know it's a test. Before, it could've just been Maji cruelty or human sacrifice - there's plenty of horror stories about that, Maji sneaking into houses and killing or kidnapping people. It's a long tradition of demonic stories about Maji being sinister witch-like creatures.

They used to burn Maji, back in the dark ages of Europe. Or so he's heard. Maybe one of the immortal Maji could tell him whether or not it's true. From what Wren knows of human nature, he'd absolutely believe it. Whether or not it was a good idea remains to be seen.

You're one of those Maji now, remember? Wire reminds him with a spark of amusement, and Wren tries to get over the grimace he's fighting to keep off of his lips at that very true and unhappy thought. Now, what are we doing?

"We're going to wait for the others to make their big bargains, I guess," Wren says, walking his way through the trees. "Or we can head for the house Kestrel mentioned. Can you tell where it is?"

I can if you want, but you need to know the rules for this, Wire tells him, and Wren nods, stepping over an exposed root and listening to the birds chirping and hooting in the distance. If you use me for something not regular wire-related, it'll cost you. Sensing the resonance of other living creatures, I could manage for a little prick of blood, but to see something like a house it'd be a bit more work. Basically, the more you ask me to stretch, the more you have to give. If you want me to just be wire, I can do that with no cost.

Wren tilts his head to the side, considering this development. "So in other words, the bargain with you is with...wire being wire, right? But you can do things outside of the norm if I'm willing to work for it," Wren extrapolates.

In a way, Wire replies, and there's the sense of a nodding ballerina in the back of his mind. It's still best if you stick to just wire uses for now. Besides, you'll be able to find it yourself. That's the entire point of this little test, isn't it?

"It is," Wren agrees, and thinks for a moment. If he has time to kill while Hawk and Teal get their affinities, he might as well figure out how to be a Maji. Carefully, he pulls the coil of wire out from his shirt sleeve. "Can you tell if we're being watched?"

You're being watched by all sorts of things, Wire objects. Telling one from the other-

"That's fine," Wren says, and looks at the wire in his hands. It's about the size you'd use for barbed wire, just without the barbs. "So what can I do?"

I don't know, Wire says.

"How can you not know?" Wren asks, incredulous and louder than he'd like. That's what indignation does to him, he supposes. "How can you not know what you can do?"

When you make a bargain, you make a bargain to manipulate me, not for me to do all the work, Wire says, amused. You're in charge of the action. All I give is the means. Think of it like I'm a pencil. What you draw is entirely up to you. Does that make sense?

"It does, regrettably," Wren says, and frowns at the coil of wire in his hands. He starts to unravel it, taking a moment to feel every inch of it sliding between his fingers as he does so. It casually coils itself back up in a natural pile on the dirt beneath them. "So how do I draw, then?"

It's like when you went into the inbetween last night, Wire says. That's what all of this is, really. You're pulling me from there and into the wire.

That doesn't make much sense, but Wren is willing to just move along with it for now. From what he experienced, it's all about believing something is true, and then it's true. It's the thought that you know how things are. You know what is. And then whatever that is, is.

Wren looks at the coil of wire on the ground, and it's not what he wants. It's...simple. He wants to do something that's just another simple way to test things out, so Wren decides on the very very simple concept of uncoiling the wire.

He drops the end of the coil of wire that he's holding, and looks down at the coil half stuck in the dirt, and decides to uncoil it.

Wren stares at the wire, and thinks, uncoil.

Nothing happens.

He thinks harder.

Nothing.

He lets out a frustrated huff of air, and crouches down, frowning at the coil. It's like how he learned to walk and speak and even created a chair in the dream, according to Wire, so -

The coil isn't coiled. It is straight. This is wrong, and the wire is actually going to move itself in a long straight line towards the tree directly in front of him, and Wren watches as it does exactly what he expects it to do, because that's what it's going to do. The wire ties itself around the tree trunk, just like he wants it to and expects it to, and he watches it obey what Wren decides is the truth of that moment. It twists up and up and up the tree's bark, and then it cuts into the wood. Wren watches the wire quickly start to squeeze around the wood.

"How much can I make wire not be what it is?" Wren asks.

...I have no idea what that means, Wire states.

So, Wren decides the answer is he can make it be whatever he wants.

For example, the wire is impossibly, deadly sharp.

He squeezes his hand into a fist, visualizing the wire, seeing the force, and the wire slashes into the tree's trunk with a vicious twist and pressure and slices through the trunk, one long razor blade that spirals its way into the center of the tree's trunk and razes it apart. The wire squeezes its way through the wood like an anaconda on caffeine, one hectic constriction, and then it shoots back around Wren's hand while the tree makes a horrible cracking noise. The wire twists around his hand, and he watches the tree slowly, slowly start to list. And then the tree starts picking up speed. Gravity forces the tree downwards, with an agonized crack of wood, and Wren has a moment to think oh shit as he watches the trunk start to move straight towards him.

The canopy is cracking sharply through the rest of the forest, branches ripping apart, and no, this isn't actually a problem. Because he has wire around his hand. He holds his hand up, towards the falling tree, and is perfectly safe because the wire rips forward, slashing and slicing apart any and all branches and falling wood above him, tossing it away from him, like a drill tip focused above him like a death-bringing umbrella.

It leaves him standing in a very conspicuous hole in the foliage.

Wren drops his hand, and the wire obeys again, sliding smooth and safe back around his forearm.

He stares up at the cloudy sky that wasn't visible until he chopped down a tree with a little coil of wire he picked up from a barrel.

"Wow," Wren says.

That was easy, Wire says, although there's a viciously satisfied twist in her words. Come on, what else can you think up? What else can you do with me?

Wren's lips twitch into a smile. It turns into a grin when he sees the absolute destruction of the area around him, the screaming of startled birds now that the silence of shock in the forest has finally vanished. "You're getting a lot of enjoyment out of this."

Nobody ever picks me, Wire says, defensively. Let me have my fun with being primary for once.

Wren shrugs, and is about to pick his way around the branches when he remembers again that he's supposed to be messing around with the wire and figuring things out. So, he looks around the area and thinks about his options here. The tree's branches are huge, and ancient, and he should probably feel kind of bad about destroying an old growth tree, but...well, it was fun. Wren finds his grin growing and growing, because it really was fun.

Maybe this whole Maji thing isn't as horrific as he'd thought.

There's plenty of a hole in the tree for him to sit around in, but getting out is again the issue. So, what does he want to do to get out of it? He could cut his way out again, of course, but he looks down at the wire again. It's enough to slash things apart, certainly, but there must be other uses. Other less obvious uses. It'd be pretty cool if he could fly, but he has no idea how you could fly with a comparatively small coil of wire. Maybe if he had more he could make wings? But that's more Advanced Maji-ing and Wren is just figuring out how to cut things down.

He considers the wire, and tilts his head to the other side, frowning. Wire is used for springs to the point that it's practically the primary use for wire, that and binding things. Tying around things would be the slicing bit around the tree, and the razor wire aspect is what cut through the tree's canopy, so maybe?

Wren groans at his own stupidity, and lets out a long sigh.

"What I believe is real, is real," Wren reminds himself.

That's a dangerous way to phrase it, Wire says.

"Are you always going to be talking in my head?" Wren asks.

There's an impression of laughter. What do you expect when you're using me like this? And I'm a primary affinity, of course I'm going to be around. She goes quiet for a moment. Unless-

"Yes, I'm fine with it," Wren says before she gets in the question of whether or not he's comfortable with having a tiny metal ballerina in the back of his head. He starts to uncoil the wire from his forearm manually, mostly to feel how smooth it is even though he just cut down a tree with it. "I'm honestly shocked nobody chooses you for a...primary affinity, you called it?"

There are affinities, and then a primary affinity, Wire says. That lady already told you the basics - you get one big bargain with something that lives, something that doesn't live, and something elemental. And then you have one of those three on top. Does that make sense?

Wren nods, pensive. "So someone could make a deal with you, and bears, and water, and then one of those would be the primary affinity. The others are just affinities."

[lastbee]

15 - practical exam

Kestrel leads them into one of the nearby small houses with a thatched roof, which seems ridiculous considering others have perfectly normal rooftops. This house just wanted to feel different, or something, Wren supposes. He'll survive ignore the absurdity of it, because there's more important things to worry about. The interior of the house, for one - it's nothing like an actual house. Unlike Wren's bizarre home that isn't his or a home, this one is nothing but an atrium.

It's not just an atrium, though - far from it. The place is monstrously high, stars visible above the tile floor that has a design in what seems like some language Wren doesn't know and has no chance to ever understand. It's a bizarre place, and Wren is definitely not a fan of whatever this is. He slides behind Hawk and Teal, looking behind them at the closed door and keeping a hand on the coil of wire under the sleeve of his shirt, whether or not it'll do any good. It probably won't. There's no visible threat, nothing that's directly making his anxiety seem remotely useful, but this is what he does. He is paranoid, and it saves Teal and Hawk. That's all he needs. It is. This is all he has to do, and they survive.

The atrium is nothing but the door they walked into, a massive tube of a room that leads straight into starlight above them in a sky that Wren has to convince himself is fake because otherwise he's going to lose his mind. Straight ahead of them, directly in line with the door that leads into the atrium slash cottage, is what looks like a door into a mansion. It's huge and white and has columns on both sides of it, like it's the entrance into some roman emperor's summer home. Or something. Either way, Wren is going to keep a hold on his wire, because only God knows what the fuck is going to happen with that door. Something could go in, something could come out, Wren would rather walk right back out, honestly.

Kestrel turns to look at them, frowning like a drill sergeant unhappy with the newest recruits. And for a moment, Wren expects that. He expects a 'aren't you the sorriest bunch of children I've ever had to deal with' speech.

Instead, Kestrel says, "There's been a bit of a disagreement about how to train you three. Your entrance into the Maji world was...unorthodox, to say the least." She makes a point of looking each of them in the eye for a long moment, then. Wren doesn't doubt for a moment that she's trying to figure out who did the thing and how they did it and how she can get that information in more detail. Wren gives her nothing. From the way she lets out a small sigh and then drops the subject, Wren assumes Teal and Hawk gave her nothing as well. Good.

"So, we're planning a practical exam, just to see what happens," Kestrel says simply. Hawk and Teal immediately begin to protest.

"There's no way we're prepared for any sort of exam, we just woke up," Hawk says firmly.

"What exactly is this test? What are you testing us on? Why did you bring us here to do it?" Teal asks, and steps towards her in a way that would probably be menacing if she wasn't so short. Which Wren amends, because Kestrel looks stunned. She's short, but Wren also has complete trust in the fact she's looking out for his well-being and is therefore not the least bit scared of her. Kestrel has no such information. Kestrel doesn't know a damn thing about Teal.

Which, Wren realizes, he doesn't really know either.

Kestrel holds her hands up, placating yet surrendering somehow at the same time. "The practical exam is nothing more than me walking you through the basics of Maji life, and seeing how you choose to react when you try things out the first time," she says. "This is usually something we see automatically just by people making their way here, but you three somehow managed to bunch up together and change any chance we had to figure out what precisely each of you is most affiliated with."

Don't tell anyone, Wire reminds him, and there's just a hint of heat from where the coil is twisting elegantly around his upper bicep. It's not much more than warmth, almost like a hearth fire tickling his skin. It's nice. It's like Wire is reminding him lightly, and comforting him, somehow. It makes no sense, but Wren doesn't intend to object.

"Affiliated," Teal states, as if she needs to be sure she has the right word.

Kestrel shrugs. "Everyone has inclinations towards one thing or another. Overall, everyone has three major...concentrations, I suppose. One living, one not living, and one ethereal. You can always have more than one thing, of course, but the best way to do it is take one and hold it."

"This is the cloak color thing, isn't it," Wren says.

Hawk and Teal don't look at him, but Kestrel focuses in on him immediately. "The cloak thing, as you call it, is very complicated," she says. She hesitates. "But yes, more or less."

Which means it isn't actually complicated and she just doesn't like the thought of it being demeaned by the concept of it being that simple. Most people don't, so Wren isn't overly worried about her reaction. He just stands and waits for her to continue. It takes Kestrel a while, but she nods, and does continue. Finally.

"The practical exam is going to be very simple. On the other side of this door is a forest. It's not any more dangerous than any other forest, there's nothing you need to worry about attacking you. It's just a forest. And if you feel drawn to anything, just follow it. That's all. That's all the practical exam is. It's just seeing what is most practical for you, to put it simply. That's the only thing you need to worry about, I promise."

Wren doesn't like promises. They're almost always lies. People try to say the right thing, people try to say the appropriate thing, and rarely actually mean it. It doesn't make anything inside of him sit up and take warning or urgency or any sort of alarm system in the bizarre hyper-paranoia he seems to be surviving thanks to.

Well, that and Mezzo.

But Hawk and Wren both look to Teal about this. She looks unhappy about it, but she nods, and looks back at Hawk and Wren. "Stay close, no matter what she's saying to us," Teal says simply, and they nod immediately, because Teal knows what she's doing. Or she seems to, at least. It's a strange blend of her having ideas and plans, and Hawk being the one really capable of actually carrying them out, and Wren just flailing around trying to make sure they all survive. Hawk and Teal are the offense, and Wren is the defense. It seems reasonable, now that he's thinking of it. It's very reasonable. They can attack, and Wren will help if there's any attacking to be done, but anything and everything will be abandoned in the sake of defending them.

Absently, Wren wonders why exactly he is this fiercely devoted to them. Before, from what he can remember, he was just their friend, and terrified of being alone, and wanting to help everyone get out of a difficult situation as safely and securely as possible. Now, the thought of losing them feels like ripping his heart out with a spork and having to eat it bite by bite as he slowly bleeds to death all alone in the middle of a desert with buzzards flying around over his head, waiting for his last gasp so they could eat what Wren hadn't already had to consume as he lays there dying. Which is a very elaborate thought that is kind of unsettling, and Wren shudders adn shoves it to the back of his mind, because that isn't going to help anyone at all, is it?

But Kestrel is obviously not happy with Teal's command. She gives them a huff of air and puts her hands on her hips, scowling. "There's no need for that. The entire point is to see what you do individually, and I am not even remotely exaggerating when I say there's absolutely nothing to worry about in that forest. It is literally a forest. That's all there is. It's a forest in Austria that the most dangerous thing it has in it is the potential to trip and fall over a root. Or poison ivy. In the unlikely event that there's a ravenous wild wolf roaming the area, I will step in and dismiss it. You shouldn't just get in a glomp or a group or just be sticking together like that. There's a reason we're doing this, and believe me, you'll be grateful for it when it's over. We can specialize your training, and make you really become one of us, don't you understand? That's a good thing. It's a great thing. And it means you have to separate."

Wren doesn't like the sound of that.

He doesn't like the sound of that even a little bit. There's something to the way she says separate, like it's something more than just a word for splitting up.

"Obviously you don't watch many horror movies," Hawk says. It makes Teal snort in amusement and elbow him in the ribs, which just makes Hawk smile more.

"Fine, we'll separate," Teal concedes.

"But we won't separate too far," Wren says quietly, and the other two nod, immediately agreeing, because Wren is the one who makes sure they all have enough caution to survive until the next big plan Teal comes up with. And none of them have been particularly big, but Wren can tell there's the potential for greatness in her. The potential for greatness and also the potential for an awful lot of mischief, not to mention some careful suggestions of ambition that Wren doesn't know what to do with.

Except he doesn't really know this? Or does he? It's confusing, how he seems to know things about Hawk and Teal despite never having been told any of them.

[lastbee]

14 - travel-fog???? wtffffffff

When Wren gets himself dressed and then moves out into the rest of his house, it's still so very strange to think about the entire concept of having his own house. Not in the way of living alone in a house - he's painfully familiar with that, ever since his father died. The shore is very definitely visible out of his windows, which is bizarre. There are no windows on the other side of the house, although there are side windows. It's as if the house has three walls and then one...something else. He sighs, and explores a bit more. There are another two bedrooms, with a shared bathroom between them, and the house is clean, and neat, and comfortable. It's everything he could ever want in a house, really.

The view outside is beautiful, like a tropical beach. The sand is white and the water is a turquoise blue that has only mild currents, just a little bit of waves. Wren doesn't know what it's called. The beach is shallow and clean and looks like something out of a travel magazine, with palm trees and a strange sort of collection of rocks at one edge, like they're perfectly placed just for sunbathing or a nice warm perch, or something. And Wren intends to investigate, he really does, but when he glances back at the wall with no windows, he notices that there's a light above the front door. Or the door he was lead into when Mezzo brought him here. It's a row of lights that shift, like a dart of light running from one side of the light to the other, like the edges are playing ping-pong with a comfortable white glow that travels across the wall.

Wren has no idea what it means, but he's going to find out, to be sure. Carefully, he moves towards the door. His body still aches, and he hasn't dared to look at the design beneath his skin. He barely managed to towel off and put on some clothing. But this, he can do. There's nothing to peek out to see if there's something on the other side of the door. It's simply a light, and a door, and beyond some decorations, that's all that is on the wall.

There's no way to defend against whatever might happen when he opens the door, so Wren steels himself, grabs the doorknob, and very slowly pulls the door open.

He doesn't recognize the woman on the other side of the door, but he definitely recognizes Hawk and Teal behind her. It feels like something painfully heavy he hadn't even noticed had just been lifted off of his chest, and they're okay. They look perfectly okay. Wren knows he looks pale and exhausted from looking in the mirror after getting out of the shower, but Teal and Hawk look okay. They look <i>great</i>. Teal is out of her cheerleader uniform, even if her hair is still up in a bun - she and Hawk are both wearing simple brown clothing. Hawk seems distinctly unhappy with it, but considering the studs and ripped areas on his previous clothing, Wren isn't surprised.

The woman in front of them is obviously Maji, with a red cloak tossed casually over her shoulders. Wren still doesn't know what the other colors mean. He needs to. The red-cloaked Maji smiles at him, although it's a polite smile instead of a sincere one, like those which Teal and Hawk are sending his way.

"I'm Kestrel, your private tutor," she says, and steps away from the door, spreading her arms in a definite invitation for him to step out of the house with the ridiculous and probably fake beach. "We have lessons to begin, if you'd join me."

Wren looks around the inside of the house, frowning. "I don't have a key."

"You don't need a key, you just need permission," Kestrel says simply, and motions for him to get out, again. This time is much more firm, not quite frowning at him but definitely very much unhappy with having to wait. Which seems bizarre, seeing how it took him quite a while to open the door. Nothing about this world makes sense. Maji don't die, there's an impossible gigantic plant that people live in, Mezzo bought him a house with a beach that is in the middle of nowhere but also somehow connected to what he sees beyond Hawk and Teal.

Wren steps out of his front door and shuts it carefully behind him, and tries very hard to not look shocked when he steps onto the walkway.

His front door is carved into a rock wall cliff face with what looks like thousands of gangways curving around it. It's a column of granite, he thinks. Except the stone changes intermittently - the stone around Wren's door looks porous, like pumice. When he feels it, it is definitely pumice. There's probably twenty feet between the doors, and the walkway spirals upwards. Wren's door is right off of the very first door, with nothing but the wooden walkway between him and the water beneath. This water is very different from his beach's water. It's dark enough that it's reflective, like oil, but still laps at the wooden dock. The entire structure is floating around the column, and Wren just desperately hopes there isn't any flooding or anything to keep him from being able to get into his new home.

In the distance, there's nothing but fog. There are large trees that look like they've been pulled straight out of the Louisiana bayou, or possibly the Amazon river - it's huge trees, with a huge amount of water, and there's the sound of wildlife and fish in the water, but none to be seen. There are a few Maji wandering around, too. Wren and the others clearly don't rank very high on their list of priorities, though - when a blue-cloaked Maji walks past, he barely bothers to glance at them.

"I don't know what's happening," Wren says.

"Which is why we're going to have lessons," Kestrel says, obviously trying to hold on to her patience.

"We'll figure it out together," Teal declares, and reaches out to link elbows with him. "Keep a sharp eye out, and everything will be fine."

"Our dear canary," Hawk says dryly with just enough sarcasm to make Wren wonder how disposable he really is, but ruffles his hair affectionately, falling in behind Teal as they follow a relieved Kestrel across one of the many gangways. There's no other way for them to watch if they're in a very dangerous situation though, Wren realizes. He has to keep watch. He'll watch, and he'll inform them, and Teal will know what to do and Hawk will probably be the one who does it best, while Wren keeps being paranoid and tries to help.

It is very strange and more than a little bit uncomfortable to be valued for your paranoia.

Still, his paranoia has kept them alive for this long. Only God knows what happened to the boy and girl who weren't in their group - he still isn't quite sure what happened to Swan. But Wren isn't going to object to being with Teal and Hawk. Far from it. He feels a thousand times less anxious with them nearby, as if now, they'll make everything safe and it'll all be okay. Which is good. Wren feels like he isn't the least bit safe, and clinging to the help his companions can give is incredibly relieving.

Kestrel definitely knows where she's going, but it's bizarre, because it seems like they're not going anywhere at all. She guides them down one more gangway and into the fog, which is so strange. It's not quite a wall of fog, more like a massive puff that they could easily see coming, and they step through, and then Wren is standing on a hillside, on a rock. It's not quite a hillside, though - it's a valley within some mountains, idyllic and full of small houses and, after Wren looks a little closer, more walls in the rocks. They're rough, and they seem embedded into the rock in a way that the swampy column that houses his own isn't. It's like the doors belong there, while they're unrepentantly alien on the other side of the fog barrier.

Kestrel doesn't bother giving them an explanation, of course, so he turns to look at Teal and Hawk.

"Where did you guys sleep? Where did you end up?" Wren asks.

Teal shrugs. "We both woke up in a barracks sort of place. Swan was there, along with the other two. That was all I saw, though. Maji came and fetched them one by one, until Kestrel came for us both," she says, and smiles at him. "I'm glad you're okay. We were worried that something went wrong. You're staying with your sponsor Maji, I heard?"

Wren glances towards Kestrel quickly, which clues Teal in quickly enough on the fact he's going to not quite give a full answer. "The house is insane, I really have no clue what's happening here," he says. And he considers giving theories, but he doesn't even really have any. They're very obviously not in the same place. Very, very obviously. And they passed through that fog to get here. How many of these little fragments of locations are connected to each other like this? Is this how the Maji can disappear so quickly and then reappear somewhere else? Do the cloaks they're always wearing have something to do with this?

Too many questions, Wren thinks. Start with one and then move outwards. What is the first question to answer, and base all other answers on?

It seems very obvious, really.

What are Maji?

Wren knows they can't die. Wren knows they can somehow communicate through dreams, or something like them. Wren knows that they can link impossible worlds together, both nexuses (nexi?) and doors, can change things. Can summon things. Can have wires embedded in their arms and somehow be able to do amazing things with wire because of them. And he needs to get his hands on some more wire, Wren realizes with a sigh.

There's some wire about forty steps ahead, near that upcoming house. It's on the bench next to the door, Wire provides helpfully. It's not a small coil this time. It's a large gauge of wire, and a large coil of it.

When they walk past, Wren snags it. He quickly slides it up his arm, beneath his shirt's sleeve, and nobody seems the wiser.

[lastbee]

13 - mutilation is the highest form of flattery.

He wakes up. It's a slow waking up and not a happy one but he does it, stretches awkwardly. His bones and muscles and veins and nerves and every cell in his body is still sore, but not as sore as they were last night. He'll recover. He will be okay. Wren is going to be just fine, and even though he doesn't know quite what happened to make him get this sore and messed up last night, he hopes that he will find out today, and he is happy to say that he feels better. It's a relief, to say the least.

Wren goes into his bathroom after fighting his way out of the lovely fluffy bed he's been given by Mezzo (which remains weird) and then he gets into the shower. It's a lovely glass shower, with a large jacuzzi tub to the left of it, but the glass door slides shut with a shhhhh noise right behind him, and the water is the perfect temperature. There's no real view here, in the bathroom, which seems strange for some reason. There's no sound of the ocean either. He hadn't gotten a chance to look out the window in his bedroom earlier, but he is going to, and he'll see whether or not his ears were misleading him the other day. He sincerely hopes not, because he hasn't seen the ocean in years.

His father took him to the ocean when he was eight years old. Wren lives (or lived, he supposes) in a landlocked state, and the ocean had been terrifying to see. The massive amount of water, the raw power it created, the noise of it all, it's terrifying for someone used to open fields and lots and lots of wheat. Or corn. Basically where Wren's from, there's either city, herds, or farms. There are a few lovely areas near rivers, a few beautiful parks, but they are few and far between. It's remarkable that they exist, period. But Wren saw the ocean and sat on the beach with his father and thought to himself, this is the most dangerous thing I have ever seen in my entire life. When his father tried to convince him to go into the water, Wren (then Arnold) had refused. But now, he regrets that.

There are threats, and then there are threats. The ocean is not openly malicious. The ocean doesn't plot against him. The ocean is relatively safe so long as you respect the danger that it could pose - and if there's one thing Wren definitely does, it's respect dangerous things.

Absently, Wren starts twisting the wire he has wrapped around his finger. He probably does this in reference to the thought that some things are dangerous and should be respected, and there are many, many things to find dangerous about Wire. He still needs to think of some way to always have Wire on him, some way to keep the wire with him at all times with no threat of removal, or no serious threat of removal, some way to plant it on his body.

Or in his body.

Wren stops washing his relatively short dark hair, which he realizes he should be impressed about how the wire hasn't snagged anything. His hair is more or less a shaggy mop he doesn't ever really try to do anything with. It used to be something he kept in check with a nice reasonable good boy haircut, but then his father died, and really, what was the point in looking nice when you're going to be selling your soul and body to the Maji? Maybe they had specific required haircuts like the military, so why spend money to just do things with that. It's ridiculous, and stupid, and Wren just shampoos his hair with a vicious bit of scrubbing with his fingers. But yes. If he has this going on, if he has his fingers scrubbing through his hair, but the wire doesn't catch, does that mean Wire is intentionally not harming him?

"Wire?" Wren asks carefully.

There's no direct answer in his head, but there's a strange sense of something waking up inside of his brain, like a cat perking up, ears flicking towards him and eyes opening.

"If I did something stupid, like I accidentally ended up poking this wire through my eye-" Wren begins, and is horrified to realize that he's not actually being completely ridiculous with his suggestion. Because a wire through his eye would be something that couldn't be removed, not without pulling his eyebrow out too. Or something. But god, the thought makes him squirm. He has to grab the soap tightly and concentrate on that for a moment.

He doesn't get the opportunity to complete the thought, though, because Wire pops in, finally. The sense in his head goes from slightly intrigued cat to Wire, full tiny wire ballerina, even if she's just a bizarre image in his head. It's like hallucinating, he thinks. Because he has a sense of her being present, but she's obviously not present. There's still a complete impression of her pulling herself up out of the wire he has on his finger and pressed against the soap.

The only way you will hurt yourself with the wire is if I want it to, Wire says simply. Or if you want me to and somehow convince me to go along with it. Which I don't. You're mine now, and I intend to keep you.

"And that's not creepy or foreboding at all, is it," Wren mutters to himself, and also Wire, who smacks him playfully on the knuckle. She's very, very small this time. Although she's not actually there. God, this is so weird. He clears his throat. "So. If I were to, say, try to, uh."

Wire's smack to his knuckle changes to a careful grip. If you put me beneath your skin, so I wouldn't ever have the chance of being taken away from your body, as agreed. It'd still be touching your skin, but it'd be from the other side of it.

"Yeah," Wren says, queasy. "That."

Wire tilts her head which isn't actually there. I wouldn't harm you. But it would hurt quite a bit. Your body will be just fine, but it will very much hurt, and feel like I'm cutting you apart.

"But you wouldn't be," Wren clarifies. "Right?"

I wouldn't be, Wire agrees, although she doesn't look happy about it. She sighs, and it is very strange to see her uncoil the wire from on Wren's finger, because he knows she isn't there. He knows she isn't there. And yet, she manipulates the wire. Which he supposes means the wire is manipulating itself, and he can just see Wire herself being the thing that's doing it. Where others would see the wire floating through the air, Wren realizes, he can see that it's not floating. Wire is just carrying it with her tiny hands. She sighs. Best to do it now before you change your mind or get even more nervous. Where do you want me?

Wren has no idea. He has absolutely no idea. Where does he want a coil of wire permanently embedded beneath his skin? It's not exactly a simple question, is it.

"What would work best for you?" Wren asks.

Wire tilts her head, and stands up on her tiptoes, like a true ballerina. She looks up and down his naked body, and Wren thinks that yes, doing this in the shower was probably the best idea. Thankfully, it's pretty much impossible to feel self-conscious when dealing with a wire goddess. Or whatever Wire is. The manifestation of all wire in the whole world. Wire doesn't care how he looks.

Again, I'm more worried about keeping you alive and safe. You're mine to take care of. If you had to summon something, and it was on your foot, you'd have to take your shoes and socks off, so that's out, Wire says. Probably the same with anything below the waist.

She dances her way straight through the air, until she's standing beneath the shower's perfect temperature of water spray, looking him up and down critically.

"What exactly are you intending I do with this wire?" Wren asks carefully. He didn't know there was anything about accessibility and summoning involved in this.

You need to be able to draw blood with it, Wire says, as if this is completely obvious information. If it's outside of your skin, it would have to be someone else's blood. If it's inside, it would be your own. So no major artery areas.

If Wren has to keep cutting at his skin at some point, he definitely doesn't want it near any major arteries, yeah, that is an excellent point. He points to his left shoulder, a finger's length beneath the end of his collarbone and moving onto his bicep. "What about here?"

It looks good to me, Wire says simply, and dances back onto Wren's skin, uncoiling the rest of the wire and climbing her way up his arm and to the place where Wren is pointing. Are you sure about this? I could move when I'm done, but it would hurt quite a lot. This is going to hurt enough as it is.

"Explain this drawing blood thing first," Wren says.

There's an approving nod from Wire. There will come a time when you'll ask me for something our standing agreement doesn't cover. Think of it like this: for every window you wash, I do a load of laundry. There comes a time when you have more than one load of laundry, or in our case, you'll want something more difficult than usual from me. And then, you do more than wash one window. In our real agreement, the fastest way to do that is shed blood. Some people sacrifice other people's blood, but you seem like someone who wouldn't be pleased with that arrangement.

"To say the least," Wren says, and looks at where the wire hovers over his bicep. "So I'd have to, what, mutilate myself?"

No, just blood will do, Wire says simply. Unless you want something very big. Her tiny delicate wire hand pats the area of skin Wren has designated as Potential Wire Insertion Point. Is this your final decision? Right here? I'll make a design for you as well.

Wren steels himself by sliding to the floor of his very nice shower and grabbing a wash cloth. He doesn't know who else is in his house, doesn't know if someone would hear, doesn't know if it's safe. The only thing he does know is that Wire said this is going to hurt, and Wren most certainly believes her. He carefully rolls the washcloth into a nice soft thick tube-shaped length of cloth, and puts it in his mouth. Above his tongue, between his jaws, it'll be a good way to deal with this. He looks at Wire, and nods.

I'll make it quick, Wire says, and that's all the warning Wren has.

He is very grateful he had the foresight to give himself something to bite down onto because it keeps him from screaming when Wire stabs her way through his skin and doesn't stay there, she lashes out beneath his skin, spreads out and curls. It's like someone is slashing his arm apart with endless swirling cuts, dragging a viciously sharp needle beneath his skin and threading it through his blood and carving him up. He feels like he's going to vomit, and it just keeps going, and going, and going, an endless snake of sharp slicing pain.

And then it's over.

Wren's body shakes, and there are tears in his eyes, and he can't even think of moving, but it's over. There's no more pain, beyond the ache that comes with a memory of hurt. He rips the wash cloth out of his mouth and pants against the glass wall of the shower, tries to breathe steadily and fails repeatedly.

"Ow," Wren says.

You'll be fine now, Wire says, and there's nothing soothing in it. There's satisfaction, and a bit of pride, and most of all is a sense of absolute conviction. She says it'll be fine, and it's absurd to believe anything else. You should still keep some wire on you at all times, though.

"Okay, good to know," Wren manages to say, and he manages to very very carefully stand on shaking legs. He turns off the water, and it's exhausting. "Anything else?"

If you don't like the pattern, I can change it, Wire offers. It'll hurt-

"Oh I'm going to love it, promise," Wren says quickly, and stumbles his way out of the shower, grabbing a towel with a shockingly steady arm, for something that just got mutilated. There's no difficulty in his range of motion, no pain, just the ache that comes from having felt pain that has now passed.

[lastbee]

encouragement would be appreciated today friends

[lastbee]

12 - I ATTACK THE DARKNESS

The bedroom Wren finds is as white and bright as the rest of the strange seaside-but-not house Mezzo has left him. Or bought him. He has no idea what's happening with that. But it has a large warm bed, and a dresser that Wren doesn't bother opening. He's tired and thirsty, and leaves the bedroom to find the kitchen, which is just as open and clean and welcoming as it had looked when he first entered. He snoops through the cupboards and finds a glass, fills it and drinks, and it feels amazing sliding down his throat. The water tastes fresh in a way he isn't used to, wet in the same way as any liquid feels on a very dry throat and tongue. He rolls the water around in his mouth, revels in the feeling of liquid. He hadn't really realized how thirsty he was until now - he drinks another glass, and another. After which he has to stop in the bathroom, which is well-equipped and clean, with a large bathtub and a separate glass shower that looks incredibly comfortable and warm.

The house (building? Townhouse? He has no idea what this is) is perfect, in ways that Wren still can't quite understand. He doesn't know how he got here, doesn't know where here even is, but one thing is certain - Mezzo is responsible for it. Mezzo is responsible for this, and Wren doesn't know why. He'll figure it out later, though. He brushes his teeth, strips down to his underwear, and climbs into his very large and comfortable bed, sinks down in the perfect mattress. He isn't too hot, or too cold. It's perfect. It's unsettling how perfect it is. He doesn't have time to really worry about it, though - he thinks for a moment about how bizarre it all is, and then he's out, he's gone, he falls asleep smooth and easy, like that's perfect too.

Wren has a dream, and it's not like most other dreams he has. He's miraculously avoided the much-dreaded wet dreams his classmates would joke at each other about, or he's pretty sure he has, at least - the point is, sex dreams aren't his thing. Sex doesn't seem to be his thing in general. It's just...weird. It's good for other people, sure. He is more than happy for other people who date and kiss, good for them. Wren doesn't want that, though. He's not sure what he does want, but Wren has always keep telling himself that he's eighteen, how can he know? Maybe he's just maturing more slowly than the others. Maybe he's just not met the right person yet. Maybe there's something that he hasn't found yet and Wren just has to go looking for it. Maybe. Maybe.

But his dream, is different.

It's the same black space he met Wire inside of, and Wire is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it's Teal and Hawk, looking confused and uncertain in the near distance. Wren spots them immediate, and they glow like lighthouses on stormy seas. The sludge is the same, the effort of will and determination that he needs to get to them is the same. The two of them are speaking, but Wren can't hear them. From what he can see in their body language, Teal and Hawk can't hear each other, either.

Still, Wren can figure this out. As he trudges forward, steps wide and firm like he's wading through a swamp, he waves his hands, waves his arms, greets them as large and big as possible so they'll notice, and they'll turn to see him. Even if it's a dream, he's aware that it's a dream, even so, he doesn't want to be ignored by them. Which is strange. He's usually fine with being the quiet addendum to a situation, to be the hanger-on. The loner, he supposes. But now, he can't imagine a world where he isn't at least an awareness of Teal and Hawk, of a place where he doesn't know them and they don't know him. It's terrifying. So, he waves his arms like a fool, like he's trying to fly through the molasses blackness of the area.

He's getting better at moving, this time. He just believes, refuses to take or accept or even consider the thought of failing to move forward. He is going to move forward, and he is going to do it well, and he is going to move on ceaselessly, fight his way forward, stride towards them. Every step he takes is firmer, and easier. He is going to move, so he does. It's as simple as that.

By the time Hawk spots him, Teal is looking truly desperate, and Hawk looks close to panicking. It doesn't take Wren long to see that it's because they're not moving. They probably don't know how to do it. Which is reasonable - it took Wren some time to figure it out, too. After this walk, Wren barely feels any resistance beneath his feet. He is walking forwards, unstoppable, and it's like he's walking through thick grass more than the terrifying swamp of shadows and fear before.

Wren finds himself smiling at them, beaming at them, and doesn't stop outside of their personal space. He moves to the space between them, and before he even lets himself think about it, wraps one arm around each of them. It pulls them both closer, and they flail as they move in the darkness for the first time. And Teal tugs at his jacket - when did he put on a jacket? And it's weird looking, almost like one of those founding fathers frock coats, sort of - Wren doesn't take the time to look at himself, instead paying more attention to Teal, releasing her (and holding a strangely frantic Hawk closer) while she tries to motion out what she's saying.

But Wren thinks this is really ridiculous, and says, "You can talk, you know."

It's perfectly audible, and he releases Hawk to just have an arm over his shoulders, frowning as Teal gapes at him. Her mouth moves, and Wren watches as she screams silently, grabbing at her still-perfectly poofy ponytail.

"What you do here is you believe, and then you can," Wren says, and lets go of Hawk. He doesn't want to, and it seems like Hawk doesn't want to either, but this requires a demonstration. He backs up further from them, and tries to think of something to do.

He settles for what seems the simplest.

There is a chair directly behind me and I am going to sit in it and it will support my weight and everything will be perfectly fine, I refuse to accept anything else, Wren thinks, and doesn't hesitate. He sits down, in the simple wooden chair that comes from nowhere, and watches Teal and Hawk gape at him.

He can read Hawk's lips, just because it's really, really easy to read, How the fuck did you do that?

Wren shrugs, and decides that it's a rolling chair, and rolls himself easily right towards them. "Like I said, just believe. Just know that what you're thinking or doing or - okay, pretend something is true, and then forget it isn't," Wren says. "For example, I believe I can speak. I believe you can hear me. I refuse to accept anything less. You hear me, I can be heard." He shrugs. "It doesn't make sense, but just give it the thought-"

"Careful," Wire says, from absolutely nowhere. He doesn't bother to look for her.

Teal and Hawk can't hear him, he decides. "Careful of what?"

"Don't give anything, don't offer anything," Wire says. "Here, just take. Don't even take. Just believe it's yours already."

REally, this explains so many things about the Maji.

"You can hear me," Teal says firmly.

Wren grins at her. "I can," he agrees, and looks over at Hawk. "And so can he."

Hawk still can't talk, and looks frustrated to the point he's nearing tears, which is unacceptable. Wren gets out of his chair and promptly forgets it exists, so it doesn't, and moves to stand directly in front of Hawk, bracing a hand on each of his shoulders. "Hawk, you can talk."

Hawk shakes his head.

"Of course you can," Wren says firmly. "Give me one reason for why you can't talk here. Is there any reason why you shouldn't be able to talk?"

It makes Hawk pause, really thinking, which is good, and then he carefully says, "There isn't."

"See? There you go," Wren says firmly.

"Alright, okay, so, wow, okay, we're alright," Teal says, dark eyes wide, looking around the nothingness for a moment before carefully looking at Wren. "So you know what's going on, then?"

"Hell no, I'm just making it up as I go, and then what I make up seems to happen," Wren says simply. It's nonsense, but it's what he's found.

Hawk shakes his head, and tries to move forward. He frowns, glares at the nonexistent miasma that Wren is just standing on top of at this point.

"I have no problems with moving right around here," Hawk says firmly, and jumps, for some reason. It works, though - he jumps, and he's standing on top of the darkness right along with Wren. Proudly, Hawk turns to Teal, smiling. "Well?"

"Nicely done," Teal says, and means it, smiling back before sighing and glaring at her own feet. "I don't - there's no reason to not be able to walk right now. And if they can do it, so can I."

"You can do a lot of things we can't," Wren says, and Teal nods, in that sage this is true and inarguable way Wren is already starting to understand. It's a joke, an inside joke she has with herself and is carefully letting Wren and Hawk in on too. He holds out a hand. "Come on, get up here with us."

Teal doesn't jump. She just steps up, like it's a big step she's climbing up, and she's there with him. "Well that worked out," she says.

"And now what happens?" Hawk asks, gesturing towards the everything yet nothing surrounding them.

"Whatever we want to happen," Wren says simply. "I don't quite know where we ar-

- and -

- WAKE UP," someone screams at Wren, with something powerful and impossible to ignore or disobey, and he jerks upwards, out of the big perfect bed. He's covered in sweat, panting, and the room is spinning. Mezzo is holding his shoulders and breathing hard, orange eyes wide and almost scared. He takes a deep breath and lets go quickly, puts a hand on his heart and walks backwards so he can steer himself towards the nearest seat. The seat happens to be on top of the bed that Wren is already sleeping inside of, sort of, or he was sleeping inside of it before at least. Mezzo puts his hands between his legs, and his head joins them after a moment.

"What happened?" Wren asks, and his hands are shaking, and he feels bizarrely weak.

"Oh, Wren, you shouldn't - don't do that, you aren't ready," Mezzo says. He takes a deep breath, and then laughs lightly. "Well, you certainly aren't a dud, at least."

Wren frowns, and tries to calm his heartbeat down, because he feels like he just finished running a marathon. Every part of his body is completely fatigued, even though he's been doing nothing but sleeping. Supposedly. He did this once before, so why is this time different?

Because you weren't just with me, Wire says simply. Speaking with me and interacting with other Maji like that are very different things.

And you won't tell me what those differences are? Wren asks. He gets nothing but silence in return, and isn't willing to try out speaking aloud to see if it'll do any better. He settles on propping himself up against the headboard - which isn't easy. It's embarrassing how weak his arms are. "So. You were going to tell me what happened?"

"Your teacher should be here in the morning-"

"Teal and Hawk," Wren says immediately, and lunges forward to grab onto Mezzo's blue cloak. "They were there too, you have to get them out, if you had to get me out you have to get them out too."

Mezzo lets out a resigned sigh, and sits back up, plucking Wren's hand off of his cloak. "If you're out, they're out. If you establish a three way connection, if it stops being three people, it collapses. You can add, but you can't subtract. And you established it, so you're fine. Well, they're fine. You aren't. But yes. That should be fine."

Wren doesn't know what he's seeing, but suddenly Mezzo groans and drops off of the bed, curling in a ball on the floor, which is just really -

"Just stay there, Wren," Mezzo says quietly, and Wren obeys. He watches Mezzo curl up, and then stand back up again, shaking himself out, like he just did some sort of yoga pose instead of a swift bend into a fetal position. He stretches himself out, and then cracks his neck, and turns back to look at Wren, incredibly awkward. "So. You. Uh. You shouldn't do that? It's - you don't know what you're doing. And you need to be very careful when you're walking inside, so be careful. Wait, I already - but yes, that's the right word. Careful. And you didn't even know what you were doing, Wren! So just. Careful, Wren. Be careful."

There's something very weird going on, in many different ways. He frowns, and falls back against the headboard again. "What time is it?" Wren asks.

"Either very very late or very very early," Mezzo says, and shrugs. He looks around, shuffling first forwards, and then to the side, like he's changing his mind on what to do or where to go every moment, and then clears his throat and says, "Right. Sleep well." The moment the words are out of his mouth, he walks out of the door and shuts it quietly behind him, and Wren can't figure out what he's supposed to be doing.

So, Wren shakes his head, and tries to drop back to sleep, tries to fall into it like before. Instead, he ends up laying between the sheets, and then groaning in frustration because he's a mess, but he's also too weak to get up and take a shower. But the sweat is drying, and he'll be disgusting until the morning, and then he can take a shower. So he rolls the sheets around a bit, until he's laying on top of the comforter, with the other half of the large fluffy white comforter flopped over him, like a sleeping bag.

And then, it's just as easy as before to fall asleep.

This time, there's no darkness. There's no 'dreams'. There's just an impression of togetherness, and a contented humming, and he has no idea what it means at all, but he definitely likes it. He buries his face in his pillow, and even that nice feeling fades away as he falls completely asleep, nice and warm and feeling very safe and happy. It's very nice, and he's happy. Yay!

[lastbee]

11 - what the fuck mezzo seriously

When Wren and Mezzo leave the sacred plant building that is still ridiculous, Wren walks down a path that follows the unnerving pulsing green cord that is something like the plant's heartbeat. He doesn't want to get anywhere near touching it, nearly winces as they wind their way down something that at first seems like a very long staircase until Wren realizes that the stairs he's walking down are travelling down other stairs, and it's practically them rolling down a curling slide that leads from the massive not-quite-leaf seed jade cocoon thing into what Wren can't think to describe as anything other than "open air."

"Oh, don't worry, it's not as bad as you think," Mezzo says simply, cheerily, hooking arms with him as they roll-climb their way down. They're in the night sky, from what Wren can tell. It's night, and Wren can tell there are stars in the distance, from what he can see as they descend down from the astonishingly high plant. The pulsing stalk just gets wider and wider, and Wren has to close his eyes and concentrate on the wire wrapped around his finger. It's strangely reassuring. Sort of. "Anyway, you wait until the sun rises, then you can actually see what's out here. It's pitch black right now, sorry, but that's what happens! Time goes on, sun rises, sun sets. But yes. So I can't really give you a big mass of information and point things out about the Maji base, because there's nothing to point out, since it's night-"

"Wasn't there sunlight in the seed plant, though?" Wren asks, and turn sto look back up. There are other people descending, and other people ascending, and somehow the two never meet. There is very definitely magic going on here.

"Oh yes, there was," Mezzo says, and nods. "But that's in a different place."

Wren stares at him. Nothing makes sense. Absolutely nothing makes sense. He rubs a hand down his face. "Okay. Let's start with the part where Maji don't die."

"Oh, that!" Mezzo says, and nudges Wren companionably. "Well, there's a thing we do, it's sort of like making a deal with death. I shouldn't say much, I don't want to spoil the surprise and the others will get mad at me. Again." He laughs, like there's nothing to worry about involved in that.

Wren asks him, "What did you give up?"

Mezzo smiles. "I would think it's obvious, isn't it? But I got my eye sight, that's plenty for me. You really - well. You really wouldn't know, would you? But anyway, I'm glad to know you've made your first bargain. I had suspicions, with that wire binding. Did I mention that was clever?"

"You did," Wren says. He wants to deny it, considers just flat out saying Mezzo is imagining things, but instead he nods.

Don't tell him, Wire warns him, and he feels the tiny coil around his finger tighten subtly. Don't tell him about the real deal you SAID you wouldn't tell and if you break your side it's all broken, Wren, don't do that.

"Ahh, I guess it's something I should've expected of you, though," Mezzo says, and suddenly, the stairway stops. Mezzo steps off like nothing has happened, nothing at all. When Wren looks upwards, back towards where the sacred plant is meant to be, all he can see is an absence of stars, a black patch in the night sky. It's very very strange.

The surface he's standing on now is something like wood planking? Except he takes another step, and it's metal. A hard, clanking metal. The wood must have been the final transition from massive pulsing plant to actual real-world existence. Or something like it.

"I'm going to just take you straight to your temporary residence, I think," Mezzo says, and there's no light to see him by, and, right. Right. Mezzo is blind. Or not blind. Either way, he seems to think of vision as a luxury or some sort of fascinating fad he's thrilled to be involved with.

"I can't see," Wren reminds him.

"Oh! Oh that's right, I'm sorry," Mezzo says, and Wren doesn't know what he expects, really, but it certainly isn't what happens. He expects magic, or something to poof into existence out of thin air, but no. Wren is pulled along by Mezzo to somewhere to the right, and there's a click, and then a thudding noise that gets louder and louder until a corridor of lights slam on, one after the other, like it's a runway.

And it does look a bit like a runway. From what Wren can see, it's an incredibly long metal plate they're standing on, with shadows of figures and formations in the middle, where the lights don't touch. He can't see much of anything beyond the basic layout and the fact the metal is the color of oxidized copper, and he doesn't have time to do more than see that before someone gets angry.

"Shut the fucking lights off, I'm trying to sleep!" a woman screams out into the night, and there's mutters of agreement, and Wren finally thinks to look up. Or to the side. Even with the dim lighting, Wren can see he's more or less in a metal canyon of some type.

"It's Mezzo, I know it's Mezzo, it's always Mezzo," someone else shouts.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm just with the new guy, he can't see," Mezzo shouts.

There's grumbling, lots and lots of grumbling, like the canyon sort of city has a hive mind, and finally the same woman who first objected calls out, "Fine, just make it fast."

Wren thinks about his options, and decides that since they're all awake anyway, there's nothing to lose by being polite. "Thank you!" he shouts.

What sounds like ten thousand SHHHH!s echoes through the metal street, and Wren actually blushes, and feels like a fool for it. Still, it gets them through.

It's a quick walk, mostly because Mezzo is moving briskly. The metal canyon isn't actually as big as he'd thought, it seems - it's only a few more moments of walking before they're through, and then they're walking on wood, what feels like planks, and Mezzo takes a moment to shut the lights off. It's a terrifying sound, and it's pitch black after he's managed to smash the light out of the canyon.

"Those are the - well, okay, the people who go with shades of green usually hang around there," Mezzo says.

Wren nods. "And you're blue," he says, and thinks about tugging at the cloak, thinks about asking about them, but instead he stays quiet. Mezzo seems to offer the most information when he's not prompted, like he rambles on because his brain just doesn't have that usual brain to mouth filter that Wren has been told all to often he over-utilizes.

Wren doesn't think and then speak. He thinks, and thinks, and thinks about thinking, and then he speaks. It's served him well. More or less. Whether or not ending up with the apparently massive and immortal Maji conglomeration is something that is good remains to be seen, to say the least. Still, he does like this, at least, when he thinks of himself. The second question, he thinks dryly.

Mezzo doesn't reply immediately, which is unusual. He takes a moment and then says, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

Mezzo is obviously a really really terrible Maji.

"How old are you, anyway?" Wren asks, and has a moment of realizing that he really has no idea how old Mezzo is. Also, he has a suspicion that the floor is moving. Maybe. There's definitely something unstable going on, but he can't hear anything. It's a still night, and incredibly dark, and the only thing he has to get him around is Mezzo's arm hooked around his own.

Mezzo makes a humming noise. "You know, I can't really remember. You lose time, here. Things just start to flow together. Which isn't a bad thing, really - I mean, it's great. You'll love it. After the first year, it'll feel like you can't imagine ever being anywhere else."

"You keep saying 'the first year' over and over, like it's an awful thing that you want me to make it through," Wren says. "Is that personal experience?"

"Oh, just experience," Mezzo says. "I've seen plenty of people come and go, and it seems like I always pick duds, but you aren't a dud. Far from it! You know how much I won on a bet that you'd get off the bus? Only six got off of the bus. They picked up people from all over the world, and six of them got off."

Wren has to consider this information. "Six, from all around the world," he repeats. They'd all sounded like they could've been Wren's next door neighbors.

"Yes, yes - your friend Hawk is from the Philippines, actually! Teal is American, and your friend Swan is German, I believe? Slovakian? Somewhere European," Mezzo says, and abruptly stops walking. Wren lurches forward and is yanked back just as quickly. "And ah! Here we are. Don't do that, by the way, that's very dangerous. But yes. This is it!"

"Where? What is?" Wren asks.

Mezzo just turns them, positions them both and says, "Okay, more stairs! Just ten of them. And then you can go to sleep in a nice warm bed, won't that be nice?"

"No horror boot camp full of tiny cots and barracks?" Wren asks, and starts carefully stepping up, feeling out the steps. They're very, very uneven when it comes to height and depth, and they aren't the same wood. They aren't moving either - and the wooden planks from before were definitely moving. "No screaming drill sergeants and five in the morning runs?"

"Not if you get off the bus," Mezzo says. And there's something that might be sarcasm, or might be darker. It's something that doesn't sound quite like Mezzo. Mezzo's steps falter, and Wren stays completely still, worried he'll trip or get pulled back again. But then Mezzo clears his throat, and starts moving again. "Right. Um. Sorry, I just - okay, right, getting you in your new temporary home! I think Hawk and Teal might already be here? I know your teacher isn't. Oh well - ah! I have the key, okay, give me a moment, Wren, thank you, aaaaand-!"

There's a sliver of light that quickly grows, and Wren realizes it's because the inside of whatever building Mezzo has led him into is lit with a beautiful, warm white light. The place is bright and airy and comfortable, in a way Wren could never have imagined. There's a cushy couch, a well-equipped modern kitchen that is made out of light-colored wood. Sandalwood, he thinks it's called. The floor is the same light wood, and Wren drops Mezzo's arm to walk in and try to take a look around.

There are windows on the back wall, and it's still dark, still night, but when he opens one of the large panes, swings it outwards like an old cottage window, he can hear the ocean. There was not even a hint of hearing the ocean earlier.

He turns to look at Mezzo, and is probably gaping.

Mezzo shifts awkwardly, smiling, and says, "I had it made for you? But. Well, I sort of did. It's fine. We'll talk later. Your bedroom is to the left, I'm going to just put the key on the floor right here, goodnight Wren. Sleep well. Um. Goodbye."

And Mezzo practically runs out the door.

[lastbee]

10 - the heaven seed.

Wren wakes up looking at something he can't quite believe. He imagines it's a bit like what a caterpillar feels like at the end of its cocoon period, that gold-green shell that wraps around them until they break it open. It's standing at least ten feet above him, and Wren is laying down, and there seems to be something almost like gold tree branches keeping it up. He's strangely reminded of the Eiffel Tower, sort of. If the Eiffel Tower was an impossible snarl of curves, but it has the same elegant latticework. It's beautiful, and completely bizarre, like he's trapped inside of a huge jade cavern.

I let go, Wire tells him, and great, awesome, he has a voice in his head. That'll be fun, when he starts forgetting himself and tries to talk to the tiny nonexistent ballerina. He can't see her, at least. So it's only auditory hallucinations. That's much better. There's only a little bit of sarcasm to the statement, which is even more depressing, because this won't be fun. At all.

As promised, there's a small coil of wire in his hand. He can't look down to see it, though, because the moment he starts sitting up from what feels like a wooden table they laid him on, people rush forward and press his shoulders back against the wood.

"Where are Hawk and Teal?" he asks one of the white-masked people. They have on white robes, and white cloth wrapped around their mouths, like surgical masks. And Wren starts to get worried, starts to panic, starts to feel his heartbeat race forward and sees the eyes of strangers, probably Maji, who knows what happened - they didn't have Wire, did they. Oh god, what if he killed them? What if he did the exact opposite of what he made this bizarre agreement with Wire to do?

"They're fine, Wren, they're just sleeping it off," Mezzo says quickly, and Wren twists, has to push his head backwards to see orange eyes and a familiar face with the same color of cloak, even if it's on over white clothing and he too has a white cloth over his mouth. His voice is muffled. "It's okay. Do you have any idea what happened?"

He doesn't trust Mezzo. He's never trusted Mezzo, not really. It didn't help when he just cheerily dropped out of the world when Wren needed him most. No, he doesn't trust Mezzo. He doesn't trust any Maji. They're a strange bunch, and even if he's one of them, he's not one of them. Not yet. And he intends to stay this way for as long as he possibly can.

"No," Wren says simply, and hopes it'll be enough. It seems to satisfy Mezzo, though, because - of all things to do - he awkwardly reaches a hand out and pats the side of Wren's head, like he's tryin to express affection and comfort but has absolutely no idea how you do that. Wren tries to smile, and it probably looks more like a grimace. "Thank you?"

"You did good," Mezzo says. "I mean, I already knew you'd do good, you really fit here, but I mean - you did better than a lot of people. A <i>lot</i> of them. Only six people got off the bus. You guys are far ahead of the curve."

Wren tries to process this, and ends up gaping at Mezzo, regardless of the very strange position he's currently laying in. The white-clad Maji have backed away, left him to his own devices, left him to Mezzo. "You - they didn't go home, did they. You didn't take them home."

Mezzo gives him a bizarre look, made even stranger by the orange eyes. "Of course not, why would we do that?"

Tests, and tests, and tests. Wren seems to have a strange knack for passing them. It must be infuriating, for the Maji who probably want him to fail. Those always exist, he has no doubt that they continue to exist. The difficult part is just finding out who they are. "Then what happened to them?"

"They're in training, of course," Mezzo says, and does the complete opposite of what the white-clad Maji were doing earlier, and puts his hands on Wren's shoulders to help lift him off of the wooden table. It was a comfortable wooden table, sure, but he could definitely do with not being on it. "Those who get off of the bus tend to be more...ahh, I don't know the word for it. We didn't always use a bus. But it's always a mode of transportation. And we change up where you get dropped, too, but this, home, it never changes."

Wren nods, and it makes some sense. Sort of. "Then you, what, you set up the area and toss new recruits into it?"

"Oh no, no, we let nature do that," Mezzo says. "We just place the plates, drop the kids, and see what happens."

Which, yes, sounds about par for what he knows of the Maji. Test and test and test, but give plenty of wiggle room. "And what happened?" Wren dares to ask.

And maybe he can trust Mezzo, or maybe he can't trust Mezzo, but he beams at Wren. "We've never had three people transport at the same time, or transport safely at least, I mean, sometimes - well, let's just stick with calling it safely. You don't need to know what could've happened. But really, that was brilliant to keep together but not actually touch - it probably saved you! Well done, really, good job, I knew you were going to be great with us."

Mezzo is nothing like what Wren had expected Maji to be like. He isn't sure if he's ever even met an adult like him. Ever. If Mezzo is an adult.

"Now, let me help you around, show you the sights," Mezzo says. "Teal and Hawk are already out and about, they have their rooms - well, their temporary rooms. You three will have special teachers and specific lessons. It's tradition - you get a teacher based on your plate, but with three of you? Well, we had to think about that for a while! Decided to go with tradition, though."

"Right," Wren says, and keeps his hand tight around the tiny coil of wire, carefully shifting it so that it's curled around his ring finger on his right hand, his dominant hand, and hopefully it will look like nothing more than a ring. Wren still hasn't looked to see it, but he doesn't want anyone to notice it, so he keeps looking straight into Mezzo's orange eyes.

"So I don't quite know who your teacher will be, it's definitely not me, I'm not made for teaching," Mezzo says, and he doesn't quite pull Wren off of the table, but it's close. It's like being tugged forward by a kid. He's beaming, though, really sincerely happy to have Wren there. "Now, okay, so we're in the medical pod right now. And don't worry about the pod part, it's not actually a pod, it just looks like one from the outside."

The jade and gold travels all the way through to the floor, which is a checkerboard pattern that Wren thinks he might actually be able to see through, although what exactly he's seeing, he doesn't know. It looks like there's something swimming beneath him? Something swinging around? It's not something he wants to see, that's for sure.

The wooden table he was laying on isn't quite that. It's wood, and it's flat, but it looks like it grew out of the base of the pod and was chopped and sanded and shined up beautifully. There's echoes of the gold in the ceiling and walls and floors in the table, too. The ceiling and walls are one in the same, one long graceful arc that meets the floor in a sharp curve.

"Nice, isn't it?" Mezzo says cheerily. "The white Maji are mostly doctors, or - how do I say this? They've devoted themselves to healing. Or life. Yes, let's go with life. They're an interesting bunch. I'm not one of them, obviously."

Wren nods, and points to the white cloth hanging off of Mezzo's neck. "And the white cloth?"

"Think of it as a ward against sickness," Mezzo says, smiling and smiling, and Wren thinks there should be something creepy about it. There should be, but he just. God, he doesn't know. For some reason it hurts to look at. "But anyway, this is just the start of our tour! You haven't seen the best parts by far. You'll love it."

"You called this a base?" Wren says, and lets Mezzo tug him towards the door. It's a simple door, but it still looks like it's made of very thin jade. Mezzo opens it like it's a sturdy wooden door he doesn't have to worry about, though, so Wren tries to have the same nonchalant feeling about it. It shuts behind them with a light shhhh noise, like any other hospital door. The hallway outside is just a continuation of the same curve and floor of inside Wren's personal pod place, and light lights their way, sunlight casting a green tint over the already-green area. It makes Mezzo look very strange.

"Oh, yes, I suppose it's a base," Mezzo agrees. "The thing is, though, it's not actually a base. It's more like - imagine if there were things, impossible beautiful things, and you just collected them all into one place. And kept them safe. And you cared for them, and they cared for you right back."

Wren is very grateful for the fact he kind of understands this, thanks to Wire.

People have agreements with buildings, apparently.

Good to know.

"Of course, this is the place the white Maji really call home. There's a few of these - well, you'll see," Mezzo says, and they're through another door, and another, with the ceiling rising higher and higher, and finally they're in a massive atrium that has white Maji walking and talking and doing god knows what in a room that has a ceiling that is at least 100 feet high, and there's an enormous pulsing green column running straight through it.

Wren gapes at it. "It's alive," he says.

"Yep!" Mezzo says, and hooks arms with Wren. "I can't remember what the white Maji call it - the life seed? Something like that? They claim it's from the Garden of Heaven, with the 'heaven' part changing from religion to religion - it's just a divine plant, they think, more or less. It's a weird plant as far as I'm concerned. It's got one huge leaf and a stalk and that's it." He pokes Wren in the chest. "But it does live by using human body heat. So don't go saying this is weird. It needs us to live."

Wren nods, and tries to take a deep breath. There's a river in here. There are trees in here. There are flowers and what look like birds and animals, it's like a green glass city with a small wilderness area built in. The core of the divine plant pulses away, like a heartbeat.

"And this is only one part of the Maji home," Wren states.

"Oh yes," Mezzo says, nodding. "Well, there are quite a few of us to accommodate after all." Wren blinks at him, and Mezzo shrugs. "I mean, a lot of people start to build up when you're immortal. Go figure, right?"

Wren tries to smile back. It's weak. "Yeah. Go figure," he says.

[lastbee]

9 - An Agreement.

There's nothing to be aware of, for a long time. Wren feels as if he is forcing himself to walk through nothing, like a sludge of blackness so deep that he can't move, even though his arms and legs travel forwards. He struggles his way forward, but gets nowhere. It's a waste of effort, but Wren is terrified to stop trying, scared to think of what there would be if he gives up.

There's a feeling like something is nearby, hovering around his wrist, and it's a glimmer in his eyes, in his awareness. Wren looks down, and there's a coil of wire stretching from the very tip of his left hand's middle finger all the way up to his shoulder, and it's a beautiful spiral. It's an elaborate design and it shines against his skin in a very pretty way, shimmering like it's made of diamonds. He tries to touch it, reaches a finger out and touches the spherical design on top of his hand.

"Don't do that," a voice snaps, and Wren looks up, eyes wide, because the voice isn't happy with him. The voice is angry, and when he looks to find the source, he can't see anything. And yet, he feels the coils of the wire tighten.

"Ignore that," somenoe else says, and Wren looks back down at the wire, to see that the sphere on top of his hand has slowly twisted itself into a wire figuring that is a vague approximation of a silvery ballerina warped through the wire, as if someone was sculpting very quickly and shoddily. Still, Wren is kind of impressed, because there's a fucking wire figurine stretching its way out of the shell on the top of his hand. The wire ballerina yawns, and it's a small, tinny, almost adorable noise. Her head twists up to look at Wren, and even with a nondescript silvery ball for a head, he can tell she's smiling. "Well! Hello, Wren! I didn't expect to see you!"

"You're on my hand, how did you not expect this," Wren says, because isn't that kind of obvious? He has no idea what's going on here.

The ballerina laughs, and nods, and pops herself up onto the tops of her toes, the tips light pricks of wire against his skin, as if someone was rubbing a wire hangar over his hand. "Well, I should rephrase. I didn't think you'd be able to see me yet. I guess you were more sincere than I thought!"

Wren has a strange moment where he thinks there's a flood of another kind of silver, the quicksilver - the plate, the Maji plate - threatening to consume him, but the wire ballerina kicks her foot high into the air, and the flood crashes to the side, far away. Ballerinas, Wren remembers, are incredibly talented athletes. Just because they wear tutus and prance around on a stage doesn't mean they can't kick you through a wall.

"What was I sincere about?" Wren asks.

"You said I was all you could rely on," the ballerina says. When Wren quirks an eyebrow at her, so it can prompt her to speak more without actually speaking up and potentially breaking her train of thought, she shrugs. "Me. Wire? I'm Wire. I'm all wire. Just call me Wire. And you said we were all you had to rely on, that wire is the only thing you can trust, that wire is your only chance - it was all very desperate." She turns, pirouettes across the other wires on his hand. "We're all used to getting calls of desperation, and there's a little bit of leeway - panic and adrenaline are pretty powerful, after all. But an actual bargain like this one? It's very rare." She curtsies, in a bend of flexibility that would be mindboggling if he wasn't pretty sure he was hallucinating or passed out or something. "Particularly for someone like me. Really, I'm honored, Wren. Thank you for your trust."

"You're welcome?" Wren asks, because he really doesn't knwo what's happening. He really truly has no idea. Still, he clears his throat, and lifts his hand to get a better look at her. The more he concentrates, the more definition there is to the little wire ball that is her head, more clearly he can see definite lines to her body beyond arms and legs and hands. "I don't know what we're talking about."

Wire sighs, and smoothly seats herself back on top of Wren's hand, like a tiny wire fairy. "If you're pledged to the Maji, you open yourself up to things like me. To things. Everythign in the world has a thought, a spirit, and they usually have a core to themselves too. You picked up a coil of wire. There could be an agreement with that particular coil-" And Wren is immediately reminded of the feeling of a toddler's gleeful kicking on the floor, rolling around in absolute naughty joy "- or with all things. The thing-ness. So you made a deal with a particular coil of wire, but you were so genuine and sincere about it that you found me, too."

"And you're all wire," Wren says, and is very, very dubious, because this is ridiculous.

The wire ballerina shrugs. "If it makes you better, think of it like this - I'm the goddess of wire. You make a deal with me, and it applies to all wire. Wire is my dominion. I am wire and wire is me. If you ask me to make all wire obey your every whim and you're willing to give me what I ask for, it applies. Does that make sense?"

"Not really, but I understand what you're saying," Wren says.

It seems to satisfy Wire, who nods, and twirls around his hand, form perfect. She looks like she doesn't get to do this very often, for some reason. "And I do like you, Wren. It's not very often that someone can see the potential in a coil of wire. I'm in everything, yet people go for the other aspects - they see a trap, and try to make a deal with the kind of trap, instead of the wire involved in it. It's inefficient." Wire stops dancing, tilting her head to look more intently at Wren. "I do like you, Wren. I very much do. I'd like to be a part of you and everything you're going to do. So I'm going to make you an offer."

"I'm listening," Wren says.

"If you swear to never make a real, true bargain with anything else that doesn't live, something man-made, I will do anything for you," Wire says, and leans forward to get a hold of Wren's shirt, tiny wire fingers clenched in the cotton. "Be mine and mine alone, and I can achieve miracles for you, in ways nobody would ever imagine. You could imagine them, though. If you could think of them. And I'll help you think of them, I'll be with you at all times."

Wren raises his eyebrows. "How are you going to do that? You're kind of conspicuous, little wire ballerina."

Wire laughs, light and pleased, like Wren just told a joke that she is delighted to hear. "Oh no, you see, when you wake up, when you return to the everyday, there will be a coil of wire in your palm. It's a very special coil, very small, and more valuable than you would ever believe. And you will have that coil with you at any and every moment of your life, waking or asleep."

Wren frowns. "How?" he asks, because that seems an unlikely achievement. What if he's strip searched? What if he gets sent into the hospital and has to have an emergency X-Ray or something and someone just pulls a coil of wire off of him?

"You're a very bright boy," Wire says, and releases his shirt, beaming. Instead of getting a handful of Wren's shirt, she clambers up, to stand on Wren's shoulder and hold on to his earlobe, like his ear is some sort of porch swing she's tryign to decide whether or not she wants to climb on to. "Well, you're a very clever boy, and you have your priorities straight. I really do admire you, Wren." She presses metal lips to his cheek. "Don't forget about the coil, Wren."

"I won't," Wren says.

"Oh, and one more thing," Wire says, and her coils bite through his earlobe, piercing his ear and making him shout in pain. "Don't tell anyone about this. Tell nobody about this deal. They can figure it out on their own without penalty, but do not tell anyone. If you need to make a deal with something, you summon me first. Hold to these rules, keep your end of the agreement, and I will make the impossible possible for you, in ways that you can't even imagine yet. Do you agree?"

Wren shouldn't agree. He shouldn't. It is very obvious that he has no idea what he's getting in to here.

"You're still tied to your friends," Wire adds. "You're technically still in transit, because you're mid-deal with me. This is a second that can last until eternity if you don't make a decision. Will I keep you bound with your friends?"

"Will you?" Wren asks.

It's a very long moment of pain and fear until Wire sighs, coils disappearing from inside Wren's earlobe, unraveling around his arm and the top of his hand, until Wire herself returns to the spherical blob on the top of his hand. "Yes, I will," she says.

Wren knows it's the truth.

"Then we have a deal," Wren says.

And he doesn't know what happens, he's suddenly feeling like wire is running through his veins, ripping through his body, but then, just as quickly, it's gone. He stands there, in the nothing, in the abstract, and barely has time to take a deep shuddering breath before he's tied to Teal and Hawk, falling through the ground, and then there are Maji swallowing them, rushing across the world Wren can see, shouting what happened what happened what did they do? That's impossible! Nobody can do that! Nobody has ever done this! Can people even do this?!

Wren grins, because Wire didn't lie. He's already doing the impossible.

[lastbee]

8 - The Wire.

THE PLATE is in the ground just like they left it, sitting innocuously and shining in the quickly-fading sunlight, and Wren approaches cautiously, Hawk doing the same in case the girls have that same compulsion to just go over and touch it, to not have any cautious inclinations, to simply step on it and see what happens. That is a very bad idea. So, Wren looks at it again, and reconsiders the words on it. They demand knowledge and deals and what you're willing to give away, they require bargains and knowledge, and Wren's mind tries to dissect that.

It's a good thing they're watching Teal and Swan, because Hawk has to grab them by the arm as they just keep walking straight towards it, eyes glazed, and that's not acceptable. He shakes them both by the arm, is careful but firm about it, and they do snap out of it. Eventually. Teal comes to far more quickly than Swan, who even after she bats Hawk's hand off of her forearm still has strangely glazed eyes as she says, "I'm alright, I'm alright, you can let go." And let go Hawk does.

"So what happens now?" Hawk asks, as if it's already a definite course of action that he just hasn't been informed of yet. Like they have an answer. Like there's already a plan.

Teal looks at Wren, then, like he's the one who should know.

"Well, I guess whe do what it says, don't we?" Swan asks, as if it's obvious, and straightforward. Which, to be honest, it might be. Maybe Wren is just paranoid. He knows he is always a little too cautious. But that might be what gets them through this entire ordeal, his cautious nature and natural paranoia, it could save them all. Still Swan moves forward, and very carefully she touches a hand to the metal.

It tries to follow her up, almost clinging to her finger, like quicksilver or some sort of putty, not quite like it wants to swallow her but something near it.

For some reason, Wren is reminded of teh way Mezzo and the other Maji disappear into the ground.

"I think you just step on it and do whatever it wants, and it takes you somewhere," Hawk says.

"Then we need to figure out what it wants," Teal says firmly.

"Oh, no, that's not a problem," Swan says, and she doesn't just kneel at the side of the strange plate with words circling the exterior. She moves forward and actually steps firmly on it, and Wren can't do anything but lunge forward as the metal just swallows her, coats her in a flash of absurdly fast quicksilver, and Hawk grabs him back before his fingers can touch the silver-covered figure that is left where Swan once stood. It quivers, the metal around her shifting quickly, and just as quickly, it falls into the plate, completely gone, as if there was nothing there at all. The plate quivers for a moment, until it sits flat on the ground again, still, nonthreatening, and having just swallowed Wren's friend.

Immediately, Wren thinks of the wire.

"Calm down, Wren," Hawk says firmly, but Wren steps away, steps away from the plate and Hawk and Teal, who is watching him with assessing, careful eyes. There's worry there, and Wren can read it. She thinks he's having a breakdown. Wren just starts pulling violently at the sleeve of his coat, and the sleeve of his shirt, until he has the coil of wire in his hand. He's breathing harshly for some reason he can't understand, and the plate is completely still, and Wren has no idea what happened. He doesn't know, and he will not lose Teal and Hawk, regardless of whether the plate helps or harms.

Teal spots the wire first, and comes close, looking at it with curious eyes. "Where did you get that?" she asks.

"I found it," Wren says, and barely keeps the it's MINE out of his mouth and the air, and keeps his head down so she can't see it in his eyes. It's a long length of wire, and he could use it, he could definitely use it. "We shouldn't split up. I've seen horror movies. You should never split up, particularly when you're stepping onto weird metal plates that swallow you up."

"Now isn't really the time to bring up horror movies, I think," Hawk says, looking around the very quickly darkening area with a very obvious sense of caution.

"We're fine for now, there aren't any snakes," Teal says firmly, and takes a hold of one of Wren's shoulders. It's shaking, but he has a plan. "Wren, look at me. What are you planning?" When Wren just keeps unravelling the length of wire, and it's far longer than he expected, somehow. And thinner? A smaller gage? Wren doesn't let himself think about it, because the sun is setting and this is a serious situation and he is going to keep them safe. But Wren doesn't reply to Teal, so she grabs his other shoulder and shakes him, shouts his name. "WREN! Talk to me!"

"If it takes three people, we'd have two other people to watch our backs wherever it takes us," Wren says, which is reasonable, it's very logical, they should listen to him. He can save them, maybe. He can make this work. They can make this work.

"You don't even know anything went wrong with Swan," Hawk says, and it's trying to be soothing, he can tell. Hawk has a hold of his shoulder too, which is a very convenient situation for Wren. Before they can object or even really tell what he's doing, he takes a good length of the wire and wraps it around Teal and Hawk's wrists, keeping them connected but not painfully so. While they're still exclaiming about what the fuck is going on and Wren what are you doing?, Wren hooks his own wrist in as well. "This is-"

"We're going together," Wren says.

Teal looks at him like he's gone crazy, which is fair. Wren probably has. Then again, he's never really been one for really sane things. He's been obsessed and paranoid about the Maji since kindergarten, has never really had any connections to people until now, not after his father died, and it hurts to think about that. He pulls their joined wrists off of his shoulder and into a more convenient situation lower to the ground, at about their waists. Wren is tallest, which is strange to him for some reason. He feels like Hawk should tower over him, like Teal should be able to easily wrap an elbow around his neck and mock him with a grin, but this is fine. He can make this work.

"And you think it'll take three people?" Teal asks.

"I think if it doesn't, we'd have another chance to do it individually, but with more information about what it wants," Wren says. "If it tries to swallow us like it swallowed Swan, then it might tell us something about what happens when you're swallowed. It could - we could figure it out, is my point."

Hawk still keeps looking at him like he's insane, which, again, might be true. Everyone has a breaking point. Wren might have just reached his when he watched one of the four (three? what does he feel about Mezzo now that he's been abandoned?) people he's actually gotten to know and maybe even care about in the entire world. That would break anyone, and he refuses to lose someone again, he refuses to have to live through even a tiny sliver of what he felt when his father died. THis is how he's doing it. This is how they're going.

"Okay," Teal says simply.

Hawk gapes at her. "You don't-"

"We don't have any other plans, and it's like he says - it either works, or it malfunctions, or it gives us more information. If we die, there's a chance it would've killed us anyway. It's a better idea than anything else we have," Teal says simply, and then shrugs. It moves all of their hands. "Besides, Wren knows the Maji stuff better than anyone else I've ever met. If he says it's a good plan, I think we should go with it."

Hawk sighs, and frowns, and definitely doens't look happy about it, but he nods. "Alright. Let's do this, then," he says, and Wren doesn't like it at all that Hawk is teh first one onto the plate, so he rushes to get on as well, and Teal is barely a heartbeat behind him as the metal trickles slowly up their legs, far slower than what happened with Swan.

This isn't right this isn't normal I don't like this what are you doing this isn't right this isn't what you're meant to do this isn't right something keeps babbling in Wren's head, and he grits his teeth. Unbind unbind unbind unbind---

Wren grabs onto the wire that's left dangling outside of their wrists, watches the metal trickle up their torsos and try to get to their arms, try to pluck at the wire, and Wren thinks, do NOT separate us wire

and the wire thinks back

the wire thinks back, and says, what'll you give me, then?

Wren ends up blinking at the slope, watching Hawk and Teal's faces slowly get covered with the metallic silver, eyes tightly staring at Wren, and Wren thinks about how he refuses to give them up.

He asks the wire, what do you want? This is so so important and you're all I have to rely on, please.

For some reason, there's a feeling of absolute triumph and glee inside of him, travelling straight through the wire, like a child who just told a fantastic joke and is on the floor being so proud of itself that it can't even contain itself, just rolls around on the floor. THAT'LL DO FOR NOW the wire tells him, so full of glee that Wren is more than a little terrified.

And whatever is in his head, whatever the metal is, hisses out, you'll regret this, and the darkness of the metal swallows Wren's eyes.

[lastbee]

7 - The canary in the mine.

When they seek out Swan and Teal, it's a strange walk, full of awkward half-starts of questions as they climb up the plateau once again. It's easier every time, but more concerning is the fact it keeps getting darker. It's a natural cycle of course, the sun always sets, it's the way of life, but the fact remains that there are problems with this. This is the time of night when the snakes come out, for one. The others include the fact they could all end up quietly getting killed by hypothermia, or could die of dehydration since they've found no water. All they've found is the shiny disk demanding they know who they are and what they want.

Eventually, at about the half way point, Hawk asks carefully, "How did you know to not get on it?" He asks cautiously, as if he thinks Wren will attack or bite him if he says something wrong. "I mean, I wasn't - it was a compulsion, almost. I wanted to get on it without even thinking."

Wren doesn't know how to answer. It's not something he can even rally remember, what he was thinking - it just seemed like something underhanded. It's yet another Maji trick, something that they're using the new kids to achieve. So he ponders as they walk up and up and up the slope, sneakered feet stepping carefully across the slowly-forming trail from the bouldery descent to the bottom of the valley to the place the Maji bus stopped. Absently, Wren wonders what exactly happened to the kids who didn't get off of the bus, because Wren can't remember hearing of anyone who came back after leaving. Not that he knows many other candidates personally, but it still makes him wonder.

Most things make Wren wonder, really. It's a good enough answer, so Wren says, "I don't trust anything to do with the Maji. They're tricky."

"Well that's one way to put it," Hawk says, and there's humor in the words, amusement in his voice, and when Wren glances back there's a small welcoming quirk to his lips. "You're just full of strange thoughts, I'm thinking."

"And that's an insult?" Wren asks.

"Oh no, it's a good thing," Hawk says, and the quirk becomes an actual smile, warm and happy on his face, like he didn't expect Wren to reply. "I like strange. It keeps things interesting. Besides, it seems like you have the most reasonable amount of caution of our entire little band of survivors. Sort of like having a canary in a mine. Except it's a wren."

"And you think <i>that's</i> a compliment," Wren says.

"Isn't it?" Hawk asks. "We're all depending on you to keep us careful."

For some reason, everything seems to settle into place all of a sudden. Since their little posse came into existence out of abandonment and necessity, Wren has felt like some unneccessary addition. Teal leads, Hawk makes it happen, Swan has the brains, and somehow, bizarrely enough, Wren has become the warning sign. He watches. He waits. He's some sort of advanced warning, or some sort of siren, or something that protects quietly. The thought makes him feel strangely warm, and he closes his eyes, thinking that yes, this is <i>right</i>, this is what he's here to do. He has nothing but this little quartet to rely on - Mezzo left. And Mezzo is a Maji, through and through. But these three teenagers who were just as stupid as he was to sell their souls away to magical mysteries of humanity, these people he can protect. He can keep safe. He can keep them intact.

Mezzo warned him about the first year, whether or not he intended to. Wren knows that whatever's going to happen, it's going to be difficult. And Wren knows he can deal with it, because even now, he still finds that every now and then he feels strangely numb, and distant, like he's just controlling his body by marionette strings sometimes. It's been better, here in what's probably a life or death situation, but it's good enough. Wren will happily take it.

Wren is going to make sure they all make it through whatever is ahead of them, because that's his job. Teal can lead and Swan can teach and Hawk can guide, and Wren will stay with them, and watch for whatever predators are closing in that the other three can't quite see.

A canary in a mine. Wren can be that. He can do that.

When they reach the same spot as they always do, the bowl of dirt that has a single large rocky surface at the very center, Teal and Swan are still waiting, thank god. Wren doesn't know what would happen without them. He doesn't want to know.

"So, we didn't find water," Hawk says. "But we did find something that probably means a way out and to the Maji base or whatever it's called."

"<i>Maybe</i>," Wren says. "Whatever it is, it's Maji, but it could be anything. It has an inscription on it too, and seems to have some sort of compulsion enchantment on it too. Hawk nearly stepped onto it without even reading the inscription."

"And there's nothing else that's useful?" Teal asks.

"No," Wren answers, and notices for the first time that somehow, Swan has miraculously managed to start a very small fire inside of the pit, on top of the rock. They're standing outside of it, with Teal sitting on one of the fallen gnarled old evergreens that have fallen over from weathering or humanity or age or, hell, maybe the bus hit them. He points at the fire, and lets how much he's impressed show in his voice. "Nicely done. Do you think we could manage some torches or something?"

They should have brought the can, Wren realizes, and once again thinks about the wire around his wrist. Would it help? He can't think of any way it could help. But he has it, just in case. It will be helpful in the end, he just knows it. Still, there's something strange in Teal's eyes, like she's seen something and doesn't want to tell them. Wren assumes there's a good reason for it, something that Hawk and Swan probably shouldn't know, and that's fine. Wren will get to her in a moment.

"So, the goal here is to somehow get ourselves safe and sound and ready to move, and get ourselves to this plate you're talkin about," Teal says. And they can do that. They can definitely do that. It is a thing that will definitely manage to be done. And they will do it very, very quickly, because the sun continues to be setting over the mountains in the west and tis a beautiful sight, to be honest. The sky is a orange gey blue with streaks of pink that roll across teh horizon and make the mountains both glow and somehow seem misty, like the cardboard cutouts that he sees in their shapes and the three tiers of the mountains are suddenly illuminated from the back and it makes the rest of them far more difficult to see any definite definition to them but it remains beautiful, far more beautiful than anything in the place he actually coems from, his home on the east coast, where the mountains are very short in comparison.

It's something he hadn't really considered before right now, Wren realizes. The magical Maji bus took them here in no time at all, and why was Wren the last to be picked up if they're so far away? It obviously wasn't from proximity, and Swan has a slight southern accent, it sounds like something around Mississippi? Louisiana, perhaps? There happens to be a little bit of a drawl to it, and she still smiles at him like he's given her the highest compliment someone could ever be given when he told her that he was impressed about the whole getting the fire going thing. Which was very impressive, and continues to be impressive. Swan should be proud of herself, because god knows Wren wouldn't have been able to manage that. Even now, he's not sure how she managed it. Perhaps diligence and hard work are all that you really need to achieve a difficult task.

But the difficult task at hand right now is more involved in survival than making fire. Which, Wren reflects, is another thing that can lead to survival and that's definitely a difficult task they'll have to keep in mind. And Wren is thinking about the wire again, for some reason. He's thinking about all of the strange things that have happened, and how it seems so unusual that they've all simply slotted into place together. Wren didn't know what his place was, but they did, he realizes. There's somethign else going on here, Wren realizes. There's something here that he isn't seeing, but he doesn't know what it is, and doesn't know where to look, and it makes him feel like his brain is itchy for some reason.

"Whoa, hey, Wren, you feeling okay?" Hawk asks, and Wren realizes he's started to stumble backwards, a hand in his hair as he tries to think about what exactly is going on here. The wire is something important, he knows, but there's no point to it? But the thought of telling someone about the wire is unsettling, and awkward, and distasteful, makes him squirm. And while he looks from Swan to the small fire in front of her, there's something protective there, and Teal has something to her too. Wren turns, and looks at Hawk, and tries to see if there's something there, too, if he has something that this manipulation of the Maji has instilled in him, but he can't see anything. It's just Hawk, looking worried and a little bit weirded out by the way Wren is looking at him.

"Let's go, and we need to move quickly," Wren says simply, and his status as the canary in the mine seems to snap them into place, has them in motion almost before he has the words out of his mouth. Swan looks longingly at the flames of her fire, and after a moment, she grabs one of the biggest pieces of dead tree she can find and carefully puts some cloth around the top of it, lights it on fire, like she needs the torch.

There is something happening to them.

"Hawk, you lead," Teal says, and watches Wren with worried eyes all the way down the quickly-forming path from here to the plate in the earth.

[lastbee]

6 - The Truth of the Distant Shining.

They wait until the sun starts setting for the third boy and girl, but it doesn't take too long for Hawk to say, "I'm not sure they're coming back."

"Where would they go?" Swan asks, glancing around the plateau and its shrubs and evergreens that are gnarled with age and weathered with what aren't elements that Wren wants to be spending the night out here dealing with. "Should we investigate that way, then?"

"Not yet," Teal says, and points northwards. "The water's our first priority. If there is water. Two of us go look for the water, and two of us stay here. How sure are you about that, Wren?"

"Probably sixty percent," Wren says.

Hawk gives him an assessing look, like he thinks Wren might actually be lying for some reason. It's the sharp look that Wren's pretty sure resulted in Hawk's given name, but he doesn't say anything. He simply watches back, curious.

Teal sighs, and stands. They've been doing nothing but sitting around and not making plans, talking about everything and nothing beyond their experience with the wilderness, what skills they might have that are helpful.

Hawk is the most helpful by far. He used to be a boy scout, he goes ("Well, went, I guess," Hawk had said quietly) camping every month with his brother, rain or shine, and he has a mental fortitude and sharp eyes that Wren most definitely doesn't. Hawk isn't exactly open and friendly, but he's not rude. He's cautious. Wren can respect that.

Teal isn't very low beneath him on the helpful rankings, though. Her obvious cheerleading background means she's physically fit to a point that Wren could never hope to match, and she was cheer captain, which makes a lot of sense to Wren. She can climb and she seems completely fearless, not to mention dedicated to keep them together. Wren's not sure the others have noticed how well she's managing it. They've been doing small tasks while waiting for two people who are never coming back. They fetch wood for a fire they can't light, they talk about what they know about where the Maji base might be (answer: they have no clue at all and quite frankly it's mostly a thought exercise), they talk about their history as outdoors people. Teal is definitely their backbone here.

Swan is a very strange blend of skills. She's intelligent, practically a walking encyclopedia, which Wren didn't expect and feels more than a little embarrassed about. Being a stereotypically fashionable young woman doesn't mean you're stupid. If anything, she's the smartest of them all. She doesn't have any of the practical information, but she can tell them about annual rainfall, can tell them possible weather coming in by looking at the clear blue sky and naming the cloud formations and what causes them. It's all book learning, but it's useful, generally. If they need a fact, they can ask Swan. They just have to figure out that they need it first. Or something.

Wren has no idea how he fits in with them. Hawk is the practical person, Swan is the one who has the information, Teal is the one who keeps them together and uses it all, and Wren does what? He looks at things? He does absolutely nothing, yet they turn to him when they have questions, they listen when he shares an opinion. They respect him, for no reason he can see beyond that there's four of them against the world and that means everyone has to pull their weight and they think that somehow he can contribute. It's nice, in a confusing way. In a very confusing way.

Still, if he can contribute, he will.

"Alright, Wren and Hawk go see if there's water, Swan stays here and screams bloody murder if something happens, I go see if I can find anyone," Teal says.

Swan frowns. "You just want me to stay and wait to scream?"

"Try building a fire," Wren suggests. "You have a nice watch, maybe you could use sunlight to catch some dead grass on fire somehow."

He really doubts it'll work, and from the side-eyeing glance Hawk gives him, he agrees. Still, Swan's expression goes from some blend of offended and annoyed to firm and determined. Teal gives him an approving nod from behind Swan, and that's all it takes. They split up, and Wren leads himself and Hawk over the same areas of the plateau that he traveled across earlier.

"So," Hawk says. "How much do you really know?"

Wren turns to frown at him. "What do you mean?"

"You knew your Maji's name, and he actually talked to you before tucking down into the ground," Hawk says simply. "That's more than I ever got. I'm pretty sure it's more than anyone else got. You're the one with the most information."

Wren shakes his head, and just keeps walking. It's a nice enough day, and the sun is low, but not setting. Feeling the wire around his arm shift as he moves is strangely calming. "I've already told you everything I know. Mezzo just said to stick it out, pretty much," Wren says simply. "He's...not exactly an average Maji, I think. When they came to give me my offer, there was a definite feeling of mumbling and grumbling when the other Maji was dealing with him."

"A misfit Maji, then," Hawk says, and smiles. "Alright. So tell me what he said about sticking it out here in Maji training."

Wren doesn't like this. He doesn't like being asked so many questions but given no answers in return, and he doesn't trust this for some reason. He doesn't see why Hawk would wait until they're separated from the group to ask these questions. Is he hoarding information? Does Hawk know something? Is there something even deeper that Wren just can't see yet?

He shrugs. "Not much," Wren says, and it's true. "He just said the first year is horrible, but I'll love it eventually."

"Huh," Hawk says, and Wren is spared from much more conversation by the plateau's boulders standing in front of them, tumbling gently down into the valley below. "Alright, so where's the water?"

Wren points at the small glimmer in the distance, where the plants grow in number and the green of their leaves is deeper. "Or that's where I think it might be," he says.

"It's a pretty good guess," Hawk says, and there's a smile in his voice. He claps a hand on Wren's back. "What do you think, we go back and get the others or make sure we're not just delusional?"

"Investigate first," Wren says. "It would be foolish to come all this way a third time only to find out that there's nothing here beyond something shiny and a bigger grove of trees."

He doesn't wait for Hawk, and simply starts climbing down, and the wire around his arm cuts into his skin just a little bit when he snags his arm on a rock, digs the metal into his arm, and he's fine, he's perfectly fine. There's nothing but a sharp moment of pain, like he has the world's most painful paper cut, and Hawk takes a moment to glance down at him. "You alright?"

"Just gouged my arm, I'm fine," Wren says, and tries to sound casual. He's not, but he'll deal with the cut when they aren't in such a dangerous situation.

Four people alone in the wilderness doesn't sound like it would be all that dangerous, but it is. According to Swan, the average low at this time of year in this area is barely thirty five degrees. They won't be able to survive that. They definitely won't be able to survive that.

The climb is simple and easy, nothing that even Swan won't be able to handle, and when he reaches the flat ground below the plateau, Wren recognizes that no, he didn't spot water.

The shiny thing between the trees isn't a pool of water, and Hawk at least should've realized that - there was no sound of rushing water, no sound of trickling water, no nothing beyond the sight of it. Or the potential sight of it. Still, he can't be be upset with Hawk about it. Nobody's at the top of their game right now, to say the least.

It's a large flat metallic plate set into the dirt, with instructions written around the sides of it. Wren doesn't let himself read it, doesn't get any closer. Not yet. He puts an arm out, keeps Hawk from getting any closer, and says, "This is probably what the others found. The third boy and girl. They found plates like this."

"What do they do?" Hawk asks.

"I don't know, but we aren't going to find out right now with just the two of us," Wren says firmly. Still, he frowns at the plate, and lets himself read the border.

Know what you want. Know what you're willing to give up to get it. Know what you're giving it to. Know who you are. Know what you want. The words spiral around the edges, repeating in three which ring around each other. The plate itself looks like it's steel or silver, something that looks cold and shiny in the fading sunlight.

"I want to get a closer look," Hawk says, and sounds strangely dazed.

Wren gets a firm grip on his leather jacket, careful to avoid the small spikes on the shoulders (which are just ridiculous, but to each their own, Wren supposes). "We get Swan and Teal, and then we get a closer look," he says. When Hawk doesn't nod, doesn't respond, he turns away from the large plate and shakes him by the biceps. "Hawk. Not yet."

"Fine," Hawk says, resigned, and listens to him, to Wren's surprise. With one lingering glance at the plate, he starts walking back the way they came. He's silent, and it's not an uncomfortable silence. It's a silence where they have plenty to think about, and little trust to share it aloud with each other.

Wren thinks about the words, and thinks about the Maji's two questions. Do you have family? Do you like yourself? Know the answers, or know what you're willing to do to get the answers, the plate says. The plate is the key to answering the Maji's questions. He knows it.

All he has to do is figure out what the hell the plate is in the first place.

[lastbee]

5 - in which there is walking and observation and wordcounts

Wren begins walking, and it's an easy path for only a few feet. The dirt beneath his feet is loose, a solid hard surface topped with a dusting of grey and red stalactites that have been eroded over time, leaving it a harsh surface that he can walk over easily enough, although it's not something he'd ever like to see a need to walk over if he wasn't wearing shoes with soles. The freedom of movement after all that time on a bus, and then all of that time in a group - although admittedly it wasn't that long as a part of the group, but it seemed it to someone who is so used to being alone - was nice to get away. So he started walking.

The voices of the cheerleader and the punk rocker and the others who are still trying to decide where to go and what to do are slowly vanishing into the distance as he walks over rough but dusty and hard-packed dirt, and there are rocks clattering beneath his feet as well. Still, there are tall grasses around, and they're a strange dusty grey-green color, and when Wren reaches down to touch them they're brittle and almost sharp to the touch. He decides that no, that isn't something he wants to be poking at. Not when there's no obvious medical attention area around. He doesn't even know where he is - if he comes across a snake that's poisonous, he could be in serious trouble. It's a good reason that the cheerleader's plan should be followed. She seems to be knowledgeable about what's going on here, Wren muses. It seems as good a plan as any to do what she says. She has her head on her shoulders, and Wren very much appreciates that, after the third boy's babbling. He can tell the boy was scared, and Wren is happy to be far away from them.

His trip forward doesn't seem particularly eventful, although he manages to clamber down a boulder, and then a second, and finally realizes that their bus drop-off point was on the top of something almost like a plateau. But not quite a plateau, he's pretty sure, considering that the rocks are almost mushroom-like. Or maybe he just failed that lesson in geography, because heaven knows he didn't do any geology. Rocks aren't Wren's thing. He likes a lot of science, although the science was always impeded by the fact that math just doesn't click in Wren's mind. He can do addition and multiplication and subtraction, he can do all of the practical math with concrete sums and sensible quantities, that he can do. He can do stoichiometry, he can do all sorts of things. He has the brain for it, but when it comes to test time, he just fails. He freezes. He can't think and can't move and ends up looking at the questions, staring at them. It's like the Maji examinations all over again, every time, except this time the questions are something he should know, something definite, something he knows he's required to be able to provide.

But he's in the wilderness now. So much for tests. As for whatever's happening, Wren can't even guess.

The landscape has some evergreens that are standing tall, and other evergreens that are gnarled messes that slink across the rocks of the area, and the hills and mountains and that strange incline are ever-present when he walks. It keeps him on track fairly easily, though. That's reassuring at least. It's an easy climb down, but he keeps his twenty minute deadline in mind. He also keeps in mind the fact he's going to have to be able to get back up, too. And the thing that's most important about what's happening here is scouting, so he tries to keep an eye on everything he can spot. Really, he should've stayed up at a higher elevation, he realizes, but this works too.

When he reaches probably thirty feet below where they were dropped, he's on another level of the plateau, and it's the first sign of any actual human life in front of him. There's a simple silvery can in the dirt, nothing but a discarded jagged soup can that had the label ripped off of it. The only interesting thing about it, as far as Wren can see, is that there's a coil of wire stuck inside of it. The can could be useful as a trail marker, Wren supposes, and leaves it where it is, but the wire doesn't need to be there. And wire, more than anything else, can be useful. Wire is important. Wire can save someone's life, at some point. Probably. Wren keeps the wire on him, loops the silvery lines around his forearm and keeps it there as securely as possible, keeps it tucked beneath his coat.

The area around him isn't bad, all things considered. There's what looks like it might be a stream farther north(?) so he wants to go explore it, wants to move forward, but when he glances at his watch, it's 20 minutes. Well, 22, but it's close enough. And telling them that he had to climb up rocks will give him an excuse for people to not come rushing to find him, or to start wondering if he died.

Wren isn't some great athlete or anything, but he climbs up easily enough, since it's an easy incline. The boulders are nice and holey, and they don't scrape up his palms too much. Wren goes carefully, because speed isn't the goal, safety is. Safety and scouting. That's the goal here. He doesn't need to be rescued, he just has to do what needs to be done so that they can meet up at whatever place Mezzo and the other Maji disappeared off to.

Of course, some part of his brain is hissing at him that there is no place to find, that they've been left out here as some sort of child sacrifice, but Wren foolishly believes that no, Mezzo wouldn't do that to him. Mezzo actually genuinely cares about him, Wren's pretty sure. He has to. Or Wren really really hopes he does, at the least. So he strides forward over the horrible dirt that, Wren realizes, has his footprints still in it, just a few feet to his left. He really didn't deviate too much from his original path, Wren is happy to see. He didn't do too bad at this. It's a good feeling.

When he gets back to the area they were dropped off at, the massive bowl with the sandstone rock at the bottom, the cheerleader and punk rocker are still there, along with another girl who looks like every stereotypical popular girl cliche wrapped up in a redhead. She seems like she's cooperating, though - her feet are dirty, her pants are covered in dust, and her nice coat's sleeves are rolled up. She doesn't look happy, though. She's cooperating, but she doesn't like it.

"Did you find anything?" the cheerleader asks, friendly and curious.

Wren shakes his head. "Not much. I might've spotted water north of here. Or I think it was north," he says.

"It was probably north," the rocker agrees.

"Right. So it's to the north. We're on a plateau, although that was probably obvious. I estimate we're probably a hundred feet above the base of the valley or whatever you call that, and the decline's not too bad going down, although I only really got probably twenty or thirty feet down."

"You climbed?" the popular girl asks, sounding surprised.

Wren frowns. "Yes?" He turns back to the cheerleader, continues his report. "The only sign I had of anything remotely human around here was an old can that was laying in the dirt. It had some wire in it, but I left the can there, because I thought we could use it as a place marker," he says, and forgets to tell them he has the wire, but by the time he remembers to add it, the cheerleader is moving on.

The cheerleader nods to herself, says, "Okay. We wait for the other two to come back, and then we'll probably head in your direction."

"Whose direction? The loner's direction?" the popular girl asks.

Wren frowns. But, then again, he can't really object. He has to ask, "What exactly makes someone look like a loaner?"

"You just seem the type," the popular girl says, and Wren reminds himself that yes, the popular people always seemed more like pack animals.

"Okay, let's do some names, I think," the cheerleader says wryly. She presses a hand to her own chest, like they're all stupid and won't have a clue what she's talking about when she says, "I'm - well, my new name is Teal."

"Teal," the popular girl says, and sounds very dubious. Still, she shrugs, and says, "I'm Swan."

"And Swan's better?" Teal asks, but she does it with a smile, like they're teasing each other. The cheerleader named Teal turns towards the punk rocker, and says, "Your turn."

The rocker takes a moment to scratch awkwardly at his neck before saying, "I'm Hawk now." He sighs. "I don't feel like a Hawk, but I was told I'm Hawk, so."

"They probably have a reason for it. They don't do anything without a reason," Wren says. And then, politely, he adds, "I'm Wren. I don't mind being Wren, but if you guys want to use your own names-"

"No," Teal says firmly. "We are these people now. We aren't who we were before. To each other, and to the Maji, and to wherever the hell we are right now, we all have bird names, and I'm going to roll with it."

Hawk frowns. "Teal is a color," he says.

"And a bird," Wren says. "Teals are kind of like ducks."

"More you know," Swan says, and sighs, and sits down on the dusty dirt beneath her.

[lastbee]

now unlocked again because having to type the password in over and over again was driving me CRAZY

[lastbee]

4 - The Bus Stops Here

The bus cruises along at a reasonable speed that Wren (Arnold? Wren?) doesn't know what he feels like about this, because he doesn't know where he's headed, only knows that the curtains on the sides of the bus are tied shut over the windows. Mezzo sits next to him quietly, keeping Wren pressed not uncomfortably but certainly tightly in the window seat. Moving would be difficult, to say the least. He can't see past the Maji that line the row, can't see his fellow new abductees. But everyone is smiling, everyone is so eager for them to get to whatever their destination is.

"You're going to like it, I promise," Mezzo says, and he's thrilled. Not quite in a creepy way, but in a Mezzo way, where he stares at things and sits around fidgeting and has halting sentences, awkward pauses. "You just have to give it time, and soon enough you'll feel right at home, I promise. It's going to be-"

"I don't need to be sold on this anymore," Wren says simply. "I'm here. I'm Wren. I'll be a Maji. You don't need to recruit me anymore."

Mezzo frowns. "I'm not recruiting you, Wren, I'm reassuring you."

Wren doesn't know whether or not he believes that, but he isn't going to take the time to accuse him of anything. He doesn't have anything to do, other than sit quietly on a quiet bus with only his thoughts and Mezzo to keep him company. No phone, no nothing beyond his house keys and his clothes. Wren has a lurking, unhappy suspicion that he'll be losing those, too.

This is a strange and bizarre world he is entering, Wren is sure. It'll be something he's never seen before, and he'll try to expect the unexpected. Or whatever. He tries to plan for whatever will happen when the bus stops.

The bus has barely been in motion for what Wren estimates is something around half an hour before it stops, which makes Wren very confused because they must be what, stopping to pick someone else up? Maybe in the next town over? The road was horrifically bumpy, like they were driving over pothole-covered dirt and the world's worst maintained gravel, but with how long they've been driving, it makes no sense. But yes, they could be picking someone up on some road Wren's never been down. But every seat on the bus is filled, and there's no standing room to be had. Wren looks around the bus, sees the other recruits doing the same, and it isn't exactly reassuring. At all. Still, he tries to keep his heart in his chest and breathes steadily, keeps himself under control, doesn't react. Doesn't let anyone see him react, at least. He's gone from feeling nothing to feeling a horrible anxiety of oh god, what have I done?

But he did what was the only real option, Wren decides.

"This is your last chance," Mezzo tells him, quiet but somehow teasing. "Get off the bus and you're Maji. Stay on, and they'll drive you back home. Simple as that."

Wren frowns. "We're already here?"

Instead of giving Wren an honest answer, he grins, and wiggles his fingers in the air like some sort of cartoon sorcerer zapping a rat to death. "Still. You can get back just as fast," he says. "If you, you know. Want to. You can."

Many, many parts of Wren's heart and mind and his everything is telling him to just turn back and find some way to survive on his own, but this, in these few moments just on a bus, with this anxiety pressing down on his chest, is the most he's felt in a very long time. And Wren, jesus, he already thinks of himself in his new name. He's been renamed like a dog bought at the pet store and answers to it in under an hour. It could be hell on the other side of those bus doors, and he'd still deserve it. Whatever it is, he's been tested and watched and pointed towards it since he was a child. It seems like a waste of all that time to just not go investigate.

When Wren stands, he sees he's not the only one to be out of his seat. There's a girl at the front with her arm around a Maji's green-cloaked shoulders. There's another girl standing cautiously, a boy glancing around quickly. He makes eye contact with Wren for a moment, but it's so fast that the only impression Wren gets is a flash of intense personhood, and then he's gone, looking back at the others in the bus. The bus holds probably twenty rows, so eighty people in total, and in the end, only twelve get off.

Wren and Mezzo are in the middle of the pack, and when they step foot off of the bus, when there isn't a Maji cloak blocking his vision (Mezzo is even taller than Wren, and he is much more irritating with how he walks), he is nowhere near his home. At all.

There are mountains to his left, a golden valley stretching out to his right, with forest and rocks spackled around the area. It feels and smells and is wilderness, with living creatures tittering around the edges of the rock they're standing on. It's a rock in the center of what looks like a nature-made bowl, that has evolved around the rock Wren and the others are standing on. It's reddish, and Wren crouches down to examine it. It's sandstone, and it means they're probably in western north america. Probably. He doesn't like the way the wind whips through the air, doesn't like the strange way the hills and mountains seem to be trying to curl itself up and to the right. It looks natural. Almost.

When he turns backwards, he blinks, and says, "Where's the bus?"

The bus is gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. The other six recruits turn quickly to see that he's really saying what they think he's saying, and Wren barely has enough time to glance over at Mezzo with wide frantic eyes, because he knows what's coming, he knows and say, "No, don't leave me-"

"It'll be fine," Mezzo says firmly, and Wren can hear the other recruits' Maji disappearing into the earth. "Just head to base, we've got things to do."

"Mezzo, don't," Wren says, and Mezzo beams at him when he curls his cloak around him, drops his neck, and hops just enough to fall through the earth.

"He said head to base?" one of the girls asks, quickly walking over to Wren. He's still crouching down on the ground looking at the strange pattern on the earth that always shows up when Mezzo does that, when he falls into beneath the earth's crust. "Hey, are you in shock? We're going to be fine, you don't-"

"I'm fine," Wren says simply, and because of his point of view, the first thing he sees of the girl is a sensible pair of tennis shoes with short frilly socks on smooth black skin. When he looks up at the rest of her, he is not expecting the cheerleader uniform. She's beautiful, black hair in a perfectly curled peppy ponytail, and holding a hand out for him. He frowns. "I can get up on my own."

"Well yeah, but you don't have to. Come on," she says, and Wren lets himself be pulled up. She nods firmly, like it's a job well done. "Now, what'd the Maji say?"

Wren thinks for a moment, and then repeats it as perfectly as he can, intonation and everything.

The girl nods, and turns around, glancing at the other recruits. They look even more lost than Wren and the cheerleader. "Alright, who has a good sense of direction, because mine's shit," she says.

"Do you have a plan?" Wren asks, curious, but before he gets an answer, another of the recruits comes forward, looking between them carefully. It's the boy who Wren saw earlier, who made eye contact for one moment. All of that impossibly powerful sense of presence is gone, though, leaving him as someone who looks like nothing so much as an Asian punk rocker.

"You said something about a base?" the rocker says, and Wren nods, watching how the other three recruits are slowly grouping together, a loose arc around them. "Alright. I say we split up and see if we can spot anything."

"Fair enough. Okay, raise your hand if you have a watch," the cheerleader says, and everyone but her and the rocker raise their hands. "Alright. If you have a watch, go out walking for twenty minutes, then turn around and come right back, we'll wait here."

"Wait, why are you two staying here while we have to walk?" the third boy asks, almost demands, obviously unhappy with the situation. "Why you two? One's some sort of-"

"Quit while you're ahead," the rocker says, and ah, there's that sense of presence, Wren didn't just imagine that up.

"We're staying so if one of you screams for help, there's actually help on the way," the cheerleader says simply. "From what I've seen, so far the only people with any idea of what's going on here are him-" she points to the rocker, "- and him-" and Wren gapes when she points at him, because what? "- and this is our best bet getting wherever the Maji want us, unless something happens to miraculously get us teleported away. I don't think that'll happen, though, so I think finding a direction to start walking towards is the most immediate concern, wouldn't you say?"

That and finding water and shelter, if this goes particularly wrong, but Wren can see the cheerleader's trying to talk the third boy down. The other two girls just look annoyed with him.

"Let's just do this," Wren says, and decides to head, uh. He turns towards the rocker. "What direction am I facing?"

The rocker looks incredibly amused, but isn't rude in the least when he says, "Northeast."

"Then I'm heading Northeast," he says, looks at his watch, and starts walking.

[lastbee]

Hello folks would you be so kind as to just sort of give me a tally on how many people are in here? No clue how to do that on a locked blog, uh, maybe liking? Or a tally through....

ANSWERS????