Dear Io,

       You have not written back my letter so I am writing again to check if you are okay. Is the danger over? Are you eating your vegetables? You must eat more. I will send oats the next time so you must eat them and grow taller.

       Ma has been busy with the harvest but now it is hot and there is no rain. There is sun every day and Uncle Rick is starting the ritual tomorrow for rain god. Without harvest, Ma has nothing to do so I stay at home and clean your room.

       Pa also comes home late like usual, but he brings meat for us to eat. But sometimes too much and I forget you are not coming home. Pa and Chief Maun spend their time in the woods together with other groups like usual but don't worry, Ma is taking care of your garden so that we always have potatoes.

       Don't worry, Ma is not lonely.

Love,

Ma

Is your friend Luka still going to come and eat potatoes? You must keep your promises Io.

___________________________

It did not take Dmitri more than five seconds to figure out the whereabouts of Lucienne Deveraux for if she was not to be found at the convenience store at the post during free periods checking for new Oreo flavours, she could be found in the predator's common room doing what Dmitri found most distasteful—studying.

How in the world he found the serious, driven, no-nonsense girl so awfully attractive, Dmitri himself had not a clue. Studying had never appeared to him anything more than lifeless and boring; its very lack of action and absence of adrenaline being its primary points of repulsion and yet, this very girl currently surrounded by aged texts and research papers, hair up in a messy bun and tortoiseshell eyeglasses atop her nose was his partner of choice? Surely, something was amiss.

The falcon was standing in—not at or around, but in—the doorway, chewing on his lip as he watched Lucienne from behind, the only occupant of the common room, hearing the sound of her pen scratching the surface of parchment paper. He stepped in, then backwards till he was once again in the doorway before stepping out, backwards, into the front lobby of the predator's hall before repeating this process twice.

Dmitri's Avian, tired of his moment of indecisiveness, nipped at a tuft of Dmitri's blonde hair –enough to produce a quick yelp of attention. Lucienne turned around. Birds solving man's social problems was perhaps the solution to the many issues in life.

Their gazes met but Dmitri was the first to look away; retreating behind the doorway and out of her line of sight. His only form of escape. After all, they hadn't quite spoken about the argument between her and Jeremiah last night, or even got wind of the disciplinary measures that Faustes had put into place.

His reluctance outwardly displayed, Lucienne had not the courage either to pursue this matter. Still, she pulled out a packet of something and slid it over to the right of her study desk, where there was an open seat.

Mint crème Oreo

Which was, by all means, quite literally giving him the green. She returned to the essay before her and continued where she'd left off, leaving the falcon to take the hint having understood that he had, in fact, been waiting for one either way.

Dmitri was delighted by the invitation, practically lighting up like a Christmas tree before crossing over to her side of the common room and taking the open seat.

"I really like mint Oreos."

"Well I can see that," was all the harpy eagle said in response, tone fearfully neutral.

This naturally left Dmitri guessing at what her words had meant, exactly, and everyone knew Dmitri was no expert at reading human beings for what they were. Mystery was the bane of his existence.

"Oh. You can? Wow, okay. You're very sharp Luci—which I've always known anyway," he tore open the packaging of the treat and handed one to his companion. "Sharing Oreos. A good start to every partnership."

"As long as it doesn't include inviting one to the gym, then yes," Lucienne looked up from her work, a curious gleam in her eyes. "It's a good start to a partnership." She accepted the sandwich cookie and sent it into her mouth whole.

Dmitri paused, stunned for a moment before breaking into an uncontrollable grin. "Point taken. I—I get what you mean. Yeah, it won't happen again. Promise."

"I don't need your promise," shrugged the eagle, capping her pen and leaving it aside, turning her full attention onto him. "You don't have to, and I don't want it. That's the whole point, Dmitri. You can go ahead and make the same stupid mistakes again and I'll still be your partner. Make so many promises every time you do something like that and you'll no longer be the biggest joke I've ever seen." She laughed, a light, careless tone that sounded even to herself uncharacteristic.

"So... uh, I get to keep my title?" The falcon played along, swept away by the comfort of it all. The fact that Lucienne had decided not to bring up the night's events, too, played a part in Dmitri's easing back into his usual self.

"Oh, maybe not. I don't think you were very funny back there. Should have made you wait a little longer at the doorway."

Dmitri clicked his tongue, lowering his head onto the table as he munched on a mint Oreo. "Hammih... alwayh hihhing meh whereh ih hurh."

He hadn't exactly approached this with the intention of apology or repentance. The heavy pride of a human dwelled strong within the falcon despite a lack of its display, hidden inside and away from the eyes of strangers till they'd come close enough to see a glimpse of its darkness. At present, Dmitri saw no need to hide who he was and though neither ended up apologizing or bringing up what happened the night before, a silent understanding settled between them both. Quietly grateful.

"Anyway, what's this? An essay?" He peered over her shoulder, staring down at the pool of text that swam before his eyes. Lucienne's handwriting was awfully slanted and cursive, nearly illegible since she barely lifted the tip of her pen to write for speed. "Is this in English?"

"Yes," the harpy eagle said hotly. "Is that not your first language?"

"Low blow Luci, low blow," Dmitri laughed, hands raised. "I'm just shocked that someone as, uh, studious like you wrote so... um... they just look like waves to me."

"Hm, so what does your writing look like?" His partner asked out of genuine curiosity. "Flowers?"

It was time for Dmitri to shine; or so that was what he regarded this as. "Okay so, did you know that the only thing Faustes likes about me is my handwriting?"

Lucienne paused.

"No, but is that a good thing?"

"Yeah duh—it's..." He looked lost for a moment. "It's not?"

She couldn't help but laugh and Dmitri felt the heat of the moment return to stir within his cage, rousing the creature with a blush and leaving him slightly comforted with the familiarity of the sound. They went from topic to topic, an overarching banter over their conversation and a constant reminder of what it meant to be in each other's company.

It wasn't that neither had the capacity for affection or physical intimacy like most people who fancied each other did; Dmitri and Lucienne preferred a kind of companionship that was different from the rest.

"You know too many languages," said the falcon upon hearing his companion's aspirations of taking roman law studies the next semester, which explained why the current essay she was writing was in Latin—to be submitted for an application to register for the course. "Stop ruining the lives of monolinguals."

They had decided to make a trip down to the convenience store by the post for study snacks (although Lucienne was really the only one studying, Dmitri was the one spreading vibes of hunger), having arrived at talk about registering for the knighting ceremony and making time for each other amidst busy schedules.

"Maybe you can teach me some French. That way, I won't look stupid in front of your friends," Dmitri was saying, referring to the other kites, eagles and this one flamingo that he'd often see her with between class breaks. "I hate feeling left—"

Lucienne had turned and raised her gaze to something above her companion's head and the act had been so odd and sudden that Dmitri could not resist following her eyes to sate his curiosity.

It was Io; walking alone with his gaze lowered to what looked like an envelope in his hands. A letter. And at the end of the corridor above, a familiar face from this morning. Umbra; who was starting towards the sparrow.

__________________________

"What's this?" Vaughn had gotten to questioning the moment he entered the well-lit kitchen—a stark distinction from the rest of his apartment-style dormitory, also known as The Void.

The vulture had unlocked his door, greeted his geometric spider ornament, and stepped past the entrance into his hallway to put his coat up on the rack when the familiar and tempting scent of spice wafted its way down the hall and led his eyes to the only light in the room, coming from the kitchen. Jae-min was early.

"Your favourites," his step-brother had said over his shoulder, reaching for a bowl from the cabinet above. "Jajangmyeon, kimchijeon, muguk," black bean sauce noodles, kimchi pancake and Korean radish soup, all consisted of the spread laid out across the counter top, steaming hot and waiting to be devoured.

Without a doubt, Jae-min had this all set-up. Vaughn was not part of the vulture family for nothing, no, he had long gotten used to the scheming ways in which each of the members—family or not—planned to have their prey: trapped, or at least waiting for them to be. Yet, he couldn't seem to think ill of the way the condor had brought his own apron along; even used the characteristic gold tin pot that he recalled from years back at his mother's old home for the noodles; or the seemingly genuine smile on his face.

"I—I'm fine with just instant noodles," muttered the bitter bean whilst staring at the beautifully crusted kimchi pancake and swallowing, almost tasting the spice on his tongue.

Jae-min smirked at the look on his brother's face. "Stop lying to yourself and go set the table."

"Well, I wouldn't have to be if I was so sure you didn't have, suppose, any ulterior motives," clarified Vaughn without looking his brother in the eye. "You're here to get me on board with your investigations. And though it is not of my intention, I would like to, well, very gently let you down on this matter and come clean that I do not express any interest towards your proposition."

His step-brother appeared to pause, wooden rice paddle in one hand and an empty bowl in another. Then, he cracked a smile over his shoulder. "Just go set the table."

Having been given not much of a choice, Vaughn dragged his sorry self out of the kitchen and into the wide, open space that was supposedly the dining area. From the cupboard under the stairs he produced a plastic folding table and two flimsy folding chairs that seemed, in the midst of the orderly space, quite out of place. What with a luxurious leather couch and fancy dark velvet carpet underneath it just a few feet away, accompanied by a faux stone accent wall alongside a full-length mirror spanning across the entire empty space, the three measly pieces of makeshift furniture seemed almost... poor.

But while its owner could brood over the fact that there was no need for a dining table when all he would ever do was eat alone in the kitchen, standing up and within ten minutes, Vaughn had spotted an interesting addition to his coffee table—a white shopping bag.

Now, Vaughn was no sparrow. He did not possess overtly curious tendencies or feel the irresistible force of the unknown and gravitate towards it, no. But he was, unfortunately, very human.

A turn over his shoulder confirmed Jae-min's further absence and perhaps, he deduced after mental calculations, not in another minute at least. Crossing over to the coffee table, the vulture peered into the shopping bag.

By skies! Inside the bag were several jaw dropping items: the biggest bottle of premium hair conditioner, alas, produced by his favourite brand far too expensive for him to afford on ordinary circumstances, and two tubs of nourishing hair masks, complete with a brand new supersonic hair dryer.

Set the table, he said, Vaughn stepped away from the shopping bag, mentally removing it from his realm of space whilst rolling his eyes. He knew I'd see this.

"So?" Jae-min decided to give him quite the scare, coming up from behind and speaking an inch away from the latter's ear. "Is the table set?"

"Nonono, no table. No set. Not yet," spilled the younger of the two, scrambling for words as he stepped away to increase the distance between them both. The curve of his petals were better seen up close and Vaughn was adamant in keeping the entire blossom a secret by itself. "I'm going to get the utensils. You can bring the dishes."

"Leave that to me," said the condor with a hand on his step-brother's shoulder, shoving a towel into his arms. "You can go ahead and take your bath. Wash your hair. And maybe use that new hair dryer of yours."

Vaughn had to admit—this was where he'd lost the battle.

*

"This is bribery and you know that," the vulture laid out amidst his third serving of noodles, reaching for another slice of kimchi pancake. "Completely unfair. No council would approve."

"Keep going Eve," mused Jae-min, entertained by his brother's lack of self-control for his cooking. "There's more soup in the kitchen if you want."

"I'll keep it for tomorrow." Vaughn declared, reaching for a napkin before going back to his food. There was only so much space in his stomach and the boy was having a hard time deciding between filling it with more noodles or pancake.

"There's also dessert—"

"It's not crème brûlée, is it?" His step-brother cut in at once, unable to prevent the words from spilling past his lips. He regretted at once. "You can't be serious. This is insane. I'd never choose some time-consuming, maddening, detective work over a peaceful afternoon in a library sorting books. Never!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's inconvenient," was what he'd concluded at once, refusing to meet his brother's eye, again because he knew that whatever he was saying would only be refuted in a single glance. After all, excuses were never one to get past the older of the two and once the hint of a smile, devious and knowing, crossed Jae-min's features, Vaughn would feel quite as though he'd been reduced to an eleven-year-old, back when they'd first met.

"What's so inconvenient about a job that allows you to maximise the full potential of that brain of yours, allows you to travel, and pays well?" Jae-min poured the vulture a glass of water, placing it before his plate. "Yes, it can be a little disturbing, and yes, you do need to talk to people but all of that boils down to... finding out who's behind all this."

"Precisely what doesn't pique my interest," Vaughn finished, recalling the blank squares of his pocket organizer and how he'd been dying to fill them with summer plans, void of Iolani Tori and thoughts and fears and dead fish in the mornings.

Jae-min produced a couple of confidential folders, fanning them across the table. "More people just disappearing into thin air and you're not curious. Come on, Eve."

"People die, no?" Vaughn was honestly not having a good time. "What has that got to do with me?" Jae-min was about to interrupt when his step-brother held up a hand and proceeded to rattle on.

"Did mother ever tell you what I did to the jokers I caught? Well, they never move again. I didn't care back then, I don't quite care now, I don't usually care, and perhaps I will not, ever, care! People can go. End of story, thank you very much." He lowered his hand and the moment he did, Jae-min was ready for a good ol' argument.

"You've always liked to contradict yourself, Eve. Do you remember the look on your face when you came flying to the tower the night Castor died, looking for the headmaster with your eyes red and tears streaming down your face—"

"Tears were not streaming down my face!"

"Then, they were brimming in your eyes," Jae-min continued to entertain, spilling the most detailed account of that fateful night. "Eve, you were so concerned! Perhaps you don't feel it now, or you may have dulled over the weeks, but you do care. I know you do. Without Tori telling me as much."

So they were back to that boy! Iolani Tori strikes again, mourned Vaughn in silence, to himself, for himself.

"Tell me you don't think this strange," his step-brother flipped through the confidential documents in a bold attempt to convince him. "Predators, very much like yourself, taking up private commissions for a harmless hunt, trying to save a sum of credits like you and your cute librarian summer job, and then never coming back."

Poor Vaughn was in an outrage trying to conceive his peaceful summer plans being reduced to a mere 'cute librarian summer job'. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, severely attacked.

"Well—maybe they decided to take a detour down below. Missing the human life, they could very well be."

"With their ears cut off?" The condor snorted, turning to a gruesome page and deliberately leaving it faced up on the dining. "Reasonable. Maybe they decided it was too heavy to be carried around."

Indeed, it was what he said it was—an ear, sliced clean from its owner's head, delicate like a piece of ham, so thinly cut from the rest of the whole and left, bloodless and dry, to rot far from its origin. The image was fortunately not as vivid as the crimson soil in Vaughn's memory, or the fountain of blood he recalled spurting out where Slayne had been cut. It stirred the creature in his cage, sending a cautionary shiver down its spine.

He was fazed.

"So you want me to act as some stupid predator on a private commission somewhere down on earth, waiting to be targeted by Hunters?" Vaughn had left his seat in an attempt to quell the trembling flowers within, shaken by the wind. "Brilliant! What a perfect plan to get myself killed."

"It is dangerous, you are not wrong," he, too, began to stand, straightening up to meet the vulture's gaze at an angle. Jae-min was tall. "But you will not be alone. Starting now is better than waiting empty-handed and still for others to fall."

Vaughn was quiet; fingers retreating into a fist, hiding. There was nothing more he could say that wouldn't give away the truth of the blossoms within and the curve of their petals. Red as blood and love.

"You don't have to decide now, Eve," his step-brother sighed, holding on to each side of his shoulders. "Two days. Then, give me your answer.

"Also," he turned to the white shopping bag resting atop the coffee table. "The reports came in yesterday evening. I got those last week. Doves took a little longer than usual, so. No. Not bribery," he laughed shortly, ruffling Vaughn's hair and causing quite the disturbance.

The vulture's hands automatically reached up to pat his hair into obedience, sparing the other a harmless glare.

"Anyway, who's your partner? Are you guys registered yet? The ceremony's in two days."

Vaughn could not have imagined the undertone in which his step-brother otherwise had when he posed said questions, a humiliating resemblance of an interrogation regarding marital issues. For a moment, Jae-min sounded to him like the most annoying of aunts.

"Yes!" He snapped initially to shut the other up, then paused and held his breath. "But also no, not really. Just, not yet. You may leave. Please leave."

________________________

Faustes was not the only one impatiently awaiting the records of the partnering knights to be filled. While his reason was so that he could do away with reminding the class time and again about the registration deadline, Professor Kirill of the school council and Falrir's order was adamant on questioning the logic of the pairs and directing said irrational queries to either Professor Callaghan or the students themselves.

This especially applied to Jeremiah and Umbra, whose news of knighting had spread faster than wildfire in a forest of birds. Io, of course, was reminded of the time when his accidental winning of the season games had, too, been on the tip of all tongues for quite a while. That, and the news of a prey (him) having 'befriended' a certain golden eagle predator.

But when the night of Io's coronation finally came around and the talk of others had died down, him as the sole subject seemed to remain regardless—discussed over dinner and written in ink on notes and messages sent by Avian and doves alike. The coronation of an Eye: a ceremony held perhaps once every half a century.

A once in a lifetime experience for many.

He was kept out of the public eye for at least five hours before the official crowning, left in the dressing room with Lyra as his only companion for at least an hour before Pipa had arrived with snacks and Jing with his ceremonial robes.

"I don't know why I'm crying," said the canary, mouth stuffed with honey butter chips and tears streaming down her cheeks. She was halfway through the snacks she'd brought for her friend when in fact, Io had not touched a single one. "It just feels like you're being married away or something."

"Pipa!" Io laughed, poking her cheek. "I'm not marrying anyone. If anything, it'll mean that I'm marrying myself." Pipa had rubbed her chin in thought, actually considering the prospect of Io picking out and putting a ring on no one other than himself.

It seemed most probable. Not impossible.

"Luka did say you would make a good bridesmaid," Jing had remarked then, before the words that slipped out of her mouth began to sink into her mind and settle there. She cleared her throat. "I forgot what context he'd said this in."

"You spoke to him recently?" Io was curious, looking at her through the mirror. Pipa passed him a bottle of chocolate soymilk made by Jiro and a box of soft cookies from Nash.

Jing was reluctant to answer in front of the girl. "Well. Yes. He... did help with your robes. Out of convenience."

Io's lips shaped into an 'o', before narrowing in on the word 'convenience' and picking it apart with regards to his eagle friend. Luka was never convenient when it came to him and Io knew that perfectly well. Either way, most of his other predator friends would, by now, be gathering in the dressing room next door and preparing to be knighted in formal attire (which he understood to be some dress uniform that resembled a pilot or a captain, he wasn't too sure).

He, on the other hand, had an entire gown that was twice his height in length to wear, which couldn't have been put on without the help of both Pipa and Jing.

"It really feels like you're about to walk down the aisle, Io," Pipa had to repeat after doing the moon phoenix's hair, securing the silver moonstone circlet to tufts of his hair so that it wouldn't move as he walked. The midnight blue fabric had a unique touch to its ends—fading to the colour of dawn as it swept the ground.

"You're not wrong, I mean. I am walking down an aisle," his friend had humoured then before shivering a little. "But it sure is cold in this thing. I didn't expect it to be this thin."

And as though this was the cue which his eagle friend had been waiting for, his call to action and arms, there was a knock on the door of Io's dressing room, and Luka calling his name from the other side.

At once, Pipa had panicked. But that was before she remembered that this had nothing to do with marriage.

"Come in!" Io had made an attempt to stand and get the door by himself but the length of his gown unfortunately did not give him the luxury of freedom.

The door clicked open and in stepped Luka, dressed effortlessly handsome. A black vest, hiding where his tie, crimson, would end and both, slightly concealed by the half-cape—lined with maroon cloth and a black collar—around his shoulders, revealing the gold epaulette on his left shoulder where the tip of the sword would later rest upon. He merely had on what everyone else would, too, be wearing and yet, Io genuinely felt as though he'd lost to his eagle friend despite the elaborate, customized robes he had on himself.

There was a box in Luka's arms that distracted him from the gold gilt buttons on the eagle's vest. It was of his curious nature to ask about its contents. Jing took this as her cue to wheel Pipa out and give the pair some private time in the room.

Io, confused, watched as they went.

"I thought you might be cold," said Luka as he produced the last of Iolani's garments—a cloak of the darkest shade, one that seemed to absorb every beam of light directed at itself, refusing to reflect even a single spark of life. It was the surcoat he had promised. "Wear this."

Draping it around the moon phoenix and securing it in place with a satin ribbon, Luka could once again hear the selfish voice in his head that refused to admit the belonging of the moon to the rest of the world down below and never to a single existence; meant not for the eyes of one but many.

"Thanks Luka!" The mirth in his eyes were hard to hide. "You knew I'd be cold? Well, I mean, you're wearing many more layers than I am. This really helps though."

The eagle nodded, watching as his companion drew towards him with open arms. They hugged.

He couldn't quite tell when they'd stopped and moved apart but there had been a knock on the door and the re-entering of the two girls, one who proceeded to wheel herself to Io and help him with his shoes while the other stayed behind, staring at the new addition on the moon phoenix's shoulders.

"Black?" Her word carried the tone of a question. "I'd assumed you would have picked white. I thought it'd suit his personality." Luka had chosen the colour and texture of the fabric and then made the entire surcoat by hand; that much, the phoenix knew. Yet, she was unable to fathom both his choice and the determination of such a man, otherwise hollow and indifferent towards the world, to piece together a surcoat worthy of an Eye's coronation.

"White does suit him," admitted the eagle quite suddenly, following her gaze to where Io and Pipa were at the end of the room, trying to put on his shoes. "But it is my duty to know more than just what suits him.

"To know that it is in darkness that he shines the brightest."

And it was, perhaps then, that the phoenix understood it was not the sun

but the astronaut who knew the moon best.