Edit: I'm curently in the midst of replying to every long comment in the previous chapter, which I will do every week (replying to comments). It's been weeks and I don't know if you thought I've given up or if, perhaps, I thought I'd given up but I don't know anymore, so! I guess I'll just be blind for a while. 

*

The idea of partnership, without fail, seemed to light—in birds and humans alike—a slow-burning flame of eager anticipation not unlike the fire of heat, should the time to search for a mate arrive. Uninvited and yet, mostly welcomed by the lonely creature in its cage.

"While you students may be the youngest predators to be crowned as Knights, which I believe some of your parents to be," Kirill's gaze rested directly on a seemingly ecstatic Dmitri, who appeared most approving and eager of the title. "It is not an honor. In no way should you be happy about this, or go bragging about it to your peers. The circumstances by which the lot of you ascend are desperate, and desperate times call for desperate measures."

The headmaster's withheld fondness for big words and theatrics was beginning to show and Viktor was obliged to step in with an objective voice.

"Rest assured. Like every Knight, you will receive intensive training by the elders of the Order. Intensive because time is tight, and investigations are already ongoing."

"Investigations for?" Shri was staring at Kirill, as though daring him to answer.

"The recent rise in numbers," the condor took the question, to Kirill's apparent disappointment. "Of Hunters."

It was exactly as he'd heard by the window. Io could not stop the eights that filled every empty corner of his arithmetic textbook, the motion of infinite strokes—or, perhaps more accurately, a stroke that would never end—strangely addictive in times of darkness. Something had to be done about the consuming. The players of a game that was not necessarily played; toying with something that would have had been fine on its own.

Unnatural deaths.

"Alright, but there's thirteen of us," Shri went on with a frown, crossing her arms. "One of us won't have a partner."

"There will not be thirteen," this opportunity, the headmaster was quick to snatch. "Iolani Tori and Jane are excluded from Knightship. They will be tasked with the creation of their respective Orders in support of Lord Falrir's."

His eights stopped there and he glanced up to see heads turned and eyes wide. Not a word after Io's name was within his comprehension.

"Order?"

Jing was oddly tensed, or so he could tell from the corner of his eye. It seemed to him that she was, for some reason, familiar with the latter instructions of creating an entire Order. The meaning of which, Io could not imagine.

"The phoenix will ensure that you are well-aware of your position of power, Tori," the headmaster did not so much as spare the girl a glance. "We wouldn't want the second ruler of the skies to appear so...lacking."

Shri scoffed. "Yeah but that doesn't change the fact one person would be left out," she voiced at once, veering elsewhere. Io understood that it was her way of sparing him the needed space for thought and conveniently forcing Kirill to answer her question.

"I never said that you couldn't be partnered with someone beyond your tier," the headmaster cleared his throat stiffly. "As long as the Order approves, there is no restriction as to who you choose your partner to be. Both parties must be willing before the contract can be forged and that is all."

Shri was tired of receiving answers that, upon hearing, felt as though she hadn't even tried in the first place. "And 'as long as the Order approves' meaning a predator of decent standing, considerably close to ours?" She'd rolled her eyes then, which Kirill seemed to note and warn her against with his eyes.

"Several factors will be taken into consideration, Miss Bageshri. Rest assured, you are not required to know what they are."

"Knights, as you all know, are tasked with the handling of Hunters." The matter was then swept aside and under the carpet with an immediate change in the topic, to everyone's unease. "And along with this responsibility comes the imminent threat of danger. Injury. And possibly...worse."

"Your parents and guardians have been notified by Avian and should you not be of legal age—eighteen, by the standards of the Order—you will require their consent. Write if you wish to persuade them. Or if you wish to abandon your pride as a predator and refuse the honor of knighthood," the headmaster added with a scornful gaze, "I suggest you speak to me instead."

*

It took the vulture less than a minute after the headmaster had left the class to figure out that he would, very naturally, end up as the only predator without a partner. The one left behind. Without the physical and emotional burden that the term partners seemed to suggest and not having to risk his life for something far beyond his reach, unheard and unseen, he found his predicament convincingly ideal. In fact, quite unlike the rest of his class who, at the ring of the bell, began pining for prospective human beings, Vaughn turned to his pocket organizer, scanning his monthly schedule for the summer which was unfortunately void of plans.

He managed to convince himself that he was a very busy man and had many, much more meaningful things to do. Exactly. He didn't necessarily need to be knighted now—there would be endless opportunities for him to shine in the near future. Surely, remaining as he were now would invite less trouble and leave him free to take up that summer job he'd been eyeing for the past couple of days. A perfect resolution; or so he'd come to reason.

Goodness.

It was in the absence of deliberation and the need for second thoughts that he'd come to terms with the all-too-familiar feeling of his presence being...unwelcomed. Or simply put, unwanted. The vulture arranged everything neatly into his book bag and slung it across his shoulder. After all, no one in the right mind would ask him, a lying, unfriendly, distant, socially inept—

"We are partners."

It wasn't even a question. Vaughn had been correct all along; no one was in the right mind to ask him for his hand in partnership. Although he wouldn't exactly consider Luka Sullivan to possess a logical or common mind.

The vulture, who had always seemed to assume himself the only existing creature on the planet, had not expected to be approached by the golden eagle at the ring of the bell.

"What?" He was unfortunately unable to hide the surprise and confusion written all over his features. Luka glanced at the blackboard and Vaughn followed his gaze.

"Surely, you are not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"I am," said the eagle with the straightest gaze absent of comedic value.

Vaughn readied his breath for the greatest sigh. "Then, Sullivan, perhaps you'd like to know that asking a question in the tone of stating a fact is not the right way to be asking a question."

Luka paused. "But...I wasn't asking a question."

The vulture was shaking in his boots. He wished he hadn't made the fashionable mistake of choosing them in the morning. "Then, I needn't speak to someone who simply makes decisions regarding others on his own accord."

"Io said we'd go well together," corrected Luka, in an attempt to defend against the title of 'one who simply made decisions regarding others on his own accord'. Vaughn needed to get his jaw checked. It had, of recent, grown fond of dropping at incredibly high speeds and insanely long distances.

The vulture closed his mouth after a pause, breathing deeply.

"Well then," he muttered, side-stepping the eagle and heading for the exit. "Neither will I speak to someone who makes decisions entirely based on a single entity."

He saw—from the corner of his eye—the eagle turn to his sparrow friend with a blink, as though lost and awaiting further instructions. It made him seem as if he had not expected to be turned down in such a brusque and shocking (really?) manner. Io had a ghastly look upon his features, shoulders drooped and lips slightly parted in disbelief. He appeared thoroughly disappointed, having expected or perhaps anticipated the unlikely alliance between a golden eagle and a black vulture.

Vaughn refused to meet his gaze.

The semblance of a red blossom, shy and delicate in the curve of its petals that were only just beginning to bloom—crushed under his stride as he left the room, gaze fixed on the flagged stone floor.

___________________

Jing was not the kind of girl who would often find herself in the center of attention or on the receiving end of complex human emotions such as jealously and...jealousy. At present, she could feel the heated gaze that belonged to a certain golden eagle—filled with ire and unnecessary caution—on her back as she walked alongside Io, the sparrow with many questions.

"We're kinda always the odd ones out, aren't we," his shoulders fell and the phoenix could not help but notice (at the corner of her eye) how Luka seemed to react accordingly. She'd never had the chance to observe such a peculiar phenomenon, especially since the pair were often alone. "I was hoping we could do something. Play a part in everyone's hard work, you know?"

They were discussing the contents of the announcement from this morning, all that had been declared and explained by the headmaster. It had been Io's request to do so after lunch as they made their way to the respective places they had to be and Jing had so kindly agreed. Fortunately for the former, his entire afternoon was free of lectures and assignments—a rare sight indeed.

"Our role is different," she explained, finding it difficult to do so. "It is...to strengthen the bonds of our kind, to give others something to believe in." She turned to her companion. "That is the purpose of Lord Falrir's Order. A responsibility that we, too, share."

They turned right at the end of the hallway, crossing a bridge that overlooked the center grounds where their practicums were held, typically in the afternoon.

"I see," said the boy who'd tread a similar path of question and thought, lead by none other than himself. Or perhaps even further. "So, like the dragon...we too, should have followers? People who believe...in us?"

The term sounded foreign even to herself. She hadn't quite considered the people of the Order—Kirill, Viktor, Alfred and the like—necessarily followers, disciples of the dragon himself. They seemed to her, already, leaders more than anything else.

"Maybe not. Perhaps people simply need to be empowered with the knowledge that there is something beyond. That there is a reward."

"A reward for being part of the Order?"

"Yes," this, she could answer with certainty. "Every Order has a reward for its members, and it is this very reward that some of Lord Falrir's followers desire and desire only. It is, at times, the only reason for their service."

Io peered past her hair, dark and straight, falling past her shoulders like a veil and leaving half her face hidden by the shadows.

"What is it?"

Now, the shadows were more. Jing had lowered her gaze and it was hard for Io to tell what was on her mind. "For serving the dragon, one is promised eternal happiness in life after death."

"Oh." Her companion did not seem very surprised, nodding along. "That was...well. I mean. It sounds very dragon-like."

The phoenix smiled at that, quietly musing over how she, too, had shared a similar sentiment back then. "It does."

"So they're not going to be immortal, then." He went on, words strung together like a question but stated as though they were a matter of fact.

Immortality. There existed, in the world, human beings who wished to be immortal but for someone who'd always sought relief from the horrors of her heart and mind, Jing could not comprehend the desire for a life that would never end.

"Not really, no," she responded after glancing over her shoulder, confirming the continued presence of Io's friend. Luka had paused upon meeting her gaze, but the silence of his mind provided the phoenix with no explanation for his odd behavior. "The difference between immortality and life after death is the very experience of the latter. Everyone must face death—regardless of whether they believe in Lord Falrir."

"And the dead cannot return to speak of the life they lived after the ordeal," laughed Io, who hadn't noticed Victoria flapping her wings aggressively a distance behind. Jing wasn't sure if he'd meant it in the way she had thought he meant.

"Are you saying that we can never know if the reward is real?" She looked him in the eye, incredulous. The claim was bold but perfectly characteristic of the boy.

He smiled. "I guess I'm saying that those people must really believe in Lord Falrir. That's all."

"The dragon himself is immortal though," Jing pointed out carefully, unsure. "Perhaps they see him as proof of the reward. It is, after all, a sharing of our power."

Io looked quite the sceptical squirrel inspecting an acorn. "It?"

"The reward."

She held up a hand and in that hand, sparked a flame. "I have the power to destroy and to heal. Things can and will never be better with me around. It is either the destruction of it all, or a return to the original state. Having an Order, which would mean sharing my power, would be...a dangerous decision. Foolish. Unwise."

"Disastrous." She added in a whisper.

The flames of a village on fire seemed to burn in her eyes right then and there, startling Io for a moment before it vanished and returned to the darkest of earths. Jing looked away and in her, he saw a girl—lost in the middle of the snow.

"Doesn't it mean you have the power to fix things?" The sparrow chirped quite out of the blue, very much like every other sparrow. "To mend is a power that many people would like to have. With will, everyone can destroy but to repair what has been destroyed...sometimes, will just isn't enough."

They came to a stop outside the library, where Io had intended to arrive. His companion was due elsewhere, with Faustes, Callaghan, and other members of the staff in charge of school affairs.

"That is...very practical of you," she concluded after a lengthy pause, disarmed by the seemingly uncharacteristic streak of realism. "Your actions can sometimes be mistaken for an idealistic outlook."

Io laughed.

"I think it is about acknowledging that certain things can never be fixed, knowing that it is the nature of human beings and accepting that things can never return and despite knowing, continuing to give my all. It is the knowing that people don't usually see. You can't see thoughts after all," he nodded at nothing in particular, then waved. "I'll see you around!"

He'd turned around to wait for Luka (who was sensitive enough to give the pair some space by straying a good distance behind) but Jing caught on and asked if she could borrow the eagle for the rest of her walk to the conference room.

The sparrow blinked, slightly confused by her choice of words. "I never knew you could borrow someone. I always thought 'borrowing' was for belongings. And Luka is not a belonging. He can't belong to anyone." He backtracked the path of definitions, running by every landmark to arrive at an odd conclusion.

Jing only laughed, turning over her shoulder to wave the eagle over. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The funniest thing was: Luka had glanced at Io.

____________________

It was only after a disheartening and unusually abrupt parting between Io and his pair of classmates that the former had turned, unwillingly, to face the double doors of the library alone. He paused to give the books in his arms, his uniform, shoes and hair a quick check.

"No Avians," he reminded Lyra who'd perched comfortably on his shoulder for a decent view, vaguely recalling that eventful time Victoria had broken into the quiet sanctuary and knocked books out of their shelves to fetch Io from the library. He hadn't set foot in it since then, afraid that the head librarian would be additionally picky with his school attire and use it as an excuse to chase him out. That, or the narrowed gaze of hers, scrutinizing his every action.

It was his will to seek the advice and company of a certain other that ultimately strengthened his resolve and straightened his back, pushing past the doors that were closed—just enough to create a gap for him to slip quietly through. Behind, the doors began to close.

His gaze rested on the front desk at once, searching for the pygmy owl who was unfortunately diurnal and adored sneaking up from behind and scaring students with additional discredits for unruly attire or whispering. She wasn't in her seat.

Carefully, Io went from shelf to shelf, following the path that the dragon had disclosed that magical night of cinnamon rolls and tea. It was only when he arrived at the flight of stairs tucked away in a hidden corner behind shelves of historical texts, unvisited and untouched by students who sought excitement and a view of the future instead of the past, that Io recalled the blue morpho's predicament.

Sylvain was only human at nightfall.

The boy sighed, sinking onto the bottom-most step of the winding stairs, sandwiching his cheeks between his hands. Beams of sunlight, warm and radiant, filtered through the gaps of each platform above him, casting a strange pattern on the ground below that stretched onto his sleeves, brushing his hair with a tint of gold. It was nowhere near twilight.

Io thought of the possible alternatives to finding out what it meant to have an Order and what it meant to be the ruler of the skies—several came to mind but none came close to the appeal of hearing everything from the dragon's closest companion himself.

It was the beauty of their relationship, between the existence of a creature so mighty and mystical, and that of the most fragile, delicate life that made him so sure that a better understanding of the former could only be achieved by speaking to the latter. This beauty, he needed to witness once again.

And so, the sparrow sat himself down on the bottom-most step, rocking quietly as he returned to the landscape of his mind—where streams flowed upwards, against gravity. Patiently, he waited.

___________________________

"Aay, isn't that Luci?"

"Yes Dmitri," the harpy eagle did not so much as spare him a glance.

Dmitri had been searching for Lucienne the rest of the entire day, unable to catch her right after class before she escaped in a fluid motion and flew off to somewhere he knew not where. He'd searched the entire campus and was about to give up when he found her in the convenience store of the Post, contemplating between original Oreos and the new mint-flavored ones. Relieved, he had given his hair a quick fix in the reflection of the glass doors before calling out to her as casually as he could feign possible.

"So," he'd sidled up awkwardly, pretending to browse the shelves beside her. "How's your day."

"Yes."

Dmtri looked confused. After all, he had been bracing himself for debates and reconstruction of his own arguments just so that he could prove his point and somehow persuade Lucienne to join him. "Uh...okay. So, it was good?"

"Yes," she went on, the hint of a smile on the corners of her lips. She decided to take a leap of faith and give the mint Oreos a go.

"And, um...that's because of this morning? Like, the partner-thing? Or, like, something else 'cuz like, everyone's probably uptight about the reason behind it. I mean, someone did die, after all. Feels bad."

"...yes," she sighed after, picking up her grocery basket and moving on to the next aisle. Dmitri followed.

"But on a sliiiightly better note," the falcon cleared his throat. "I was wondering. You know. Since we've known each other for some time, and, well, we know each other preeetty well—okay, no, not really. I just meant that you know me pretty well but uh—" He froze when Lucienne finally turned to face him, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yes?"

"I, uh," he wheezed. "Iwasjustwonderingifyouwantedtobepartners."

The creature in Dmitri's cage was beating its wings, hard and fast as though it was racing through the sky and escaping from a storm. He held his breath and waited for a reaction, knowing well that this was where his social skills did not extend beyond—the realm of Lucienne Deveraux. Or females in general (because Dmitri was really just a shy little fledgling in the midst of what he insists is puberty whenever he tries to act cooler than ice, forgetting that he's actually better at it when he doesn't try).

To his complete surprise, the harpy eagle reached past his shoulder for a bag of chips, laughing. Her eyes gleamed.

"And I've lost count of how many times I had to say yes."

Dmitri's shoulders slackened a little as he blinked, not knowing where or how his hands should be placed. Then, it dawned upon him.

"Is," he breathed in disbelief. "Is that why you've been saying yes to everything for the past few minutes?"

Lucienne had a rare smile upon her lips, squaring her shoulders as she turned and headed to the counter.

*

Jeremiah Reyes was never the captain's first pick in gym class when it came to teams, and neither was he the last or the middle few for he was the captain. The kite would always be the one doing the picking and there was no doubt about that.

So fond and familiar was Jeremiah with his nature of attraction that he never did question what it was about himself that made him so. Being wanted and adored was, to him, the norm and there came a time where he'd began to expect nothing less. The time was long, but the time was also now.

Jeremiah did not fear that which a vulture like Vaughn had feared all his life. Social discrimination was something so strange and foreign that it seemed to exist beyond the world that was within his reach; through the looking glass. Yet, little did he know that it was precisely this—the strange and foreign thing on the other side of the mirror, so close and yet so deceptively far—that he one day would gaze upon his very reflection in the mirror, not knowing that he was, already, on the other side.

In fact, that day would arrive far sooner than he'd anticipated, knocking him down and sweeping him off his feet. Signs of the fateful day first began when he noticed Aaqil, the quietest boy in class, seated between Dmitri and Abigail over dinner, smiling and seemingly chatting away. It wouldn't have struck him as a disturbing sight had that seat not been Jeremiah's rightful—or so he'd come to assume—place. The middle of the table, the center of attention was a position only he was entitled to have and Jeremiah was right. He did have every quality, every feature, every element that was required of the center of attention and yet, in that very seat, sat someone else.

"I never knew your Avian was a male." Jeremiah approached their table from behind, picking up bits and pieces of conversation. "So it really is just a coincidence that everyone else's is the opposite sex?"

"Not really," said the shikra, oblivious to the kite that was now standing right behind him with his food tray. Waiting. "It's probably rare, this thing."

"So it's unnatural?" Dmitri asked between mouthfuls of pepperoni pizza, a curious look in his eyes. Across him, Lucienne was secretly stealing his olives.

"No it isn't," Aaqil snorted with a laugh. "It's like having a different blood type. Some blood types are just uncommon."

Jeremiah had stood stock-still behind his classmates for a grand total of ten seconds and yet, either no one had noticed his presence, or they had not bothered to call him out. The kite could not help but wonder what the draw of the conversation was and how everyone seemed far too engrossed in their participation to see him standing right behind them. It was absurd.

He coughed.

Finally, Lucienne raised her gaze upon hearing the oddly surprising sound, greeting him with wide eyes. "Jeremiah? Where've you been? Dinner started nearly half an hour ago. Dmitri's Avian went looking for you."

"Yeah Jerry-o, you owe me one."

The news seemed to soothe the impatient creature within, relieving the foreign itch that he was only just beginning to feel. The darkness in his eyes faded very briefly as he watched all eyes turn to him and Aaqil get up quietly from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Abigail's attention was back on the shikra, staring at his tray that was far from finished.

"I'm just moving over," he nodded towards the end of the table where he usually sat, but the bald eagle held onto his arm.

"What are you talking about? Jeremiah can sit over there beside Vaughn. Where Io always sits," Abigail pointed to the empty space a distance across, where the vulture minded his own business and enjoyed a beautiful slice of cod fillet.

At once, the itch had returned and no attempt was made to calm the creature in his cage. The odd fire in his eyes burned a darkness that no one else could see and Jeremiah could find no means to quell that which had lived within for nearly all his life. "Yeah, don't worry man. I'll make do."

Jeremiah flashed the shikra a charming smile, giving his shoulder a brief clap. Aaqil watched with an odd gaze that followed the former's hand. "Um. Okay...thanks man." He sat back down.

"So," Abigail swung back to prompting and while Jeremiah was within earshot, he wasn't close enough to be automatically included. "Does it give you special powers or something?"

"Unfortunately no," Aaqil laughed, sarcasm playing upon his lips. "Unless you count supposedly double the masculinity in me, then yes." This had made Dmitri laugh and Shri across the table roll her eyes.

Abigail had nudged him in the side. "And here I was hoping that my partner would be doing all the work."

At once, the word had his attention wrapped around its finger, toying above the flames that burned a little hotter than before. Bitter smoke clouded his mind and invaded every inch of his heart, clinging to the creature that was beginning to writhe. Jeremiah stared at the people seated across him, conversing over dinner and completely oblivious to the anxious beat inside. If even he was feeling so, how was it that they were not?

"Partner?" He voiced, surprisingly controlled, and those within earshot turned to him. "Wow. That's fast."

"Uh," Dmitri's gaze shifted elsewhere before returning to him. "You haven't got anyone yet?"

The question felt like a bullet in his chest—impact shocking his heart to a stop.

"What. Everyone's paired already?" He'd laughed, then. A careless, nonchalant snort that remained within his field of character. He was still himself.

Aside, Vaughn was the only one who could afford to disagree, albeit quietly and without voicing this information. He sent the very last slice of pork into his mouth whole and chewed, rising and taking his tray along with him in a hasty attempt to escape the tension at the table.

It was only when everyone else hadn't said a word and merely looked around that Jeremiah began to snap. He felt the chains in his cage begin to wear under the furious itch and his creature pulling free, shaking, breaking the very first link he had forged to withhold the arrogance of a monster.

"Cool," smiled the kite, stabbing the grilled chicken tender on his plate and lowering his gaze to hide the darkness in his eyes. "Who's everyone with?"

There were others who were not present at the table and Jeremiah was full of assumptions, of them and of himself. He couldn't possibly be the last. He couldn't—he would not be that odd one out; the last pick. It simply couldn't be.

The kite skimmed through the rest of his options in his head, appearing to listen to whatever that was being said at the table. He ticked them off, one by one.

"I'm with Meryl," piped Shri, jerking her thumb towards the cassowary on the other end of the table, who waved. "Swans are together. No surprise."

"Where are they anyway?"

"On a diet. Odette told me after she declined the rum chocolates I offered this morning," Abigail shrugged, directing all attention to herself. "So I guess their skipping dinner. Anyway—I asked Aaqil 'cuz I just thought we'd make a good pair y'know. After the recent games."

Whatever secret it was that they shared, Jeremiah did not want to know. It struck the bars of his cage, her statement did. After all, he'd always prided himself on the thousands of molds he could melt, fit into, and change like they were his very own, playing every part of any story and thus being the missing piece of every puzzle and never the odd one out. A good pair? He laughed inside.

"Right," again, he smiled, finally turning to Dmitri and the harpy eagle on his left. This, he knew he would not like to hear. "So you guys are...?"

He did not miss the stiff, almost bashful look in Dmitri's eyes. It fueled his flames and there was now more smoke than ever, clouding his vision and strangling the human within.

"Y-yeah," the falcon coughed, flashing a grin. "Everyone's kind of, um. Paired up already, so."

Excuses. Jeremiah knew perfectly well how much the noisy blonde American fancied that skinny French girl and it filled him with ire that scratched and tugged at the chains that were now weak with pride and envy.

The list was complete and the ones remaining stood out in the most jarring manner—one that seemed to seal his fate. Luka and Vaughn; two that were once nothing more than enemies but now spoke on terms so friendly it brought tears to his eyes. Tears of disgust.

"Really?" His laugh was vaguely scornful, eyes letting slip a sliver of his true nature. It was not something he would worry about. Dmitri wouldn't be able to tell the difference because the falcon was just that sort of person. Forward and surprisingly...naïve.

Or perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all. Dmitri possessed the radiance of a sun so blindingly hot, light so unmistakably pure that it pierced and burned but reduced everything to a single, simple entity absent of nuance. Jeremiah was familiar with people like Dmitri, but such a personality was the kind to ruffle his feathers.

"Uh. Pretty sure Luka's gonna ask you anytime soon though," there. The falcon had said exactly what Jeremiah had anticipated and it only furthered the heated derision sizzling within. "Vaughn knows a couple of predators outside class."

Dmitri was an open book and the very next line had his attempt to mediate written in ink. Nowhere in this paragraph or the ones above did his book ever suggest the possibility of him knowing how to mediate.

Unfortunately for him, Jeremiah had, very naturally, taken the wrong turn. "Because his dear sparrow is exempted, and Sullivan has something against the vulture?" He snorted, smiling nevertheless. "That makes me the...what, third? Back-up?"

People stared.

The smile had, somewhere along the way, turned into a vicious smirk. One which Dmitri did not recognize. It had startled him and made his gaze shift elsewhere before returning to the kite, fidgety in his seat.

"Woah. Jerry. Hey. I didn't mean it like that, honestly," he tried to save, discomfort rising to the vertex of his throat. He swallowed and forced it back down. "All cool though, right? You have your buddies from the first class too yeah? Jalaal and the rest."

He would have liked to correct the boy again, just to tease him and further the unease that he knew Dmitri was feeling but would not have liked to feel. Jeremiah Reyes didn't just have buddies from the first class of predators, second to the Hearts themselves, he had an entire army. Should he rally them all or take to arms with sheer numbers—people as weapons— Jeremiah could win any war of social standing and influence.

If anything, it was followers he had but followers were, as much as he disliked them to be, by their very definition, constrained and undeniably limited. To watch and to follow, like and admire, was vastly apart from that which partners were required to be. What Jeremiah needed now was not someone who would follow him, but stand beside him in times of need and that...was an entirely different case.

Before his eyes lay the irony of being wanted. Jeremiah never considered the prospect of chivalry being his greatest enemy or the complexities that it would invite. Indeed, he'd began to understand that the unexpected catch of popularity was, in fact, the raising of the pedestal on which one stood, leaving him, thus, seemingly alone while the rest, seemingly below.

"Hey," Dmitri had his head slightly lowered, eyes searching for a sign of emotion in the other's. "You okay? Man, you're scaring me."

Jeremiah was eighteen when he finally realized how mistaken he was for thinking that chivalry and approval, favor and admiration, marketability and demand were tall enough, strong enough an army against the forces of the world. He had been young and slightly foolish, jaded by the terrible examples of youth around him and the Pyramid that seemed to revolve around a similar concept of strength.

Being wanted was not enough.

With nothing left of his true, fundamental nature and no other mask to wear, Jeremiah could not find his feet. Desperation licked the bars of his cage, seeking entrance to the flame and the smoke that was no longer within his control but left to agencies unknown.

"I don't bite," laughed the kite, in response to what Dmitri had said. "What're you scared of?"

Something was burning. Lucienne caught the faint smell of charred wood, thick and dark. She assumed at once that her mind was taking things too far and that she perhaps needed a break from the revision schedule she'd planned for herself just a week ago before the semester began. Her gaze rested on Jeremiah's food tray—left mostly untouched.

"Nothing," Dmitri said at once, shaking his head and glancing toward Lucienne. "Nothing man, it's just. You look a little...off. Today."

If Dmitri had a concrete idea of what Jeremiah was like on other days and the will to observe him on a daily basis, Jeremiah himself could not tell. The prospect of it appeased him for the slightest moment but he soon recalled that it wasn't the matter at hand that he should be most invested in. Everyone had a partner except him.

But as Dmitri had the habit of doing, ruining whatever it was that he was trying to build with his very own hands, his attempt to appease took a turn for the worse when he extended, in the most ironically sincere and concerned manner, an invitation to his daily night exercise.

"Right! Wanna hit the gym at nine, then?" He flashed a lopsided grin but his eyes betrayed him completely. "Luci's coming too."

Lucienne had turned to him with an expression of complete surprise and a smile so unconvincingly agreeable that it did not take a genius to tell Dmitri did not wish to be alone with the kite. After all, he was never apt at dealing with emotions head-on, finding them particularly troublesome.

"Sure." More faces failed to hide their surprise as they turned to Jeremiah, the latter hiding a smile behind a glass of water as he raised it to his lips. "I'll come." 

19/8/2018