A/N: It's been a while but I promise more :') I'm heading to London in a week for a three-month exchange and since I have nothing better to do, I'm probably going to be camping out at some library and writing my life away hehe

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Imagine eating a butterfly.

Live; its wings rising and falling moments ago as it landed, still and serene on the underside of a leaf and the colour of those veins kept upright, glistening in the light and moving as though it was breathing; slow and steady, the rise and fall of its wings

till the coming of fingers, slicing through the air and taking the creature by its only form of flight, crushing the gentle thinness between the index and the thumb; picking it up and raising it high where its legs, trembling in the absence of control and tickling the tongue before the darkness that was wet and the cavern of a mouth ready for the crunch of a chip between teeth for a

taste

of

infinity

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Bitter. That which many would have assumed to taste sweeter than an apple ripe, sinful and tempting at every angle that left a fragrance; a scent so seductive turned black with mold and now, a ball of poison no longer red but green. Having to watch the ones they loved depart and go, left behind, all alone, they had to watch and live; ah, Death.

But to say that no one would have liked the prospect of extending the lifespan of their youth to freeze time and age alike was holding human beings in a regard so high that the thing in which they would fear the most was the turning of tables—an innate hunger and greed to beat the clock and hide from; ah, Death.

Death. A harmless thing to the self but poisons the heart and haunts the spirit of those left behind.

Utako Jiro was not one to rid of the apple he'd began to feed upon; core and all, it stayed within and without relief, it began to root. Root it did, up it grew and soon he felt the branches of a tree tickle the back of his throat for a cry so grieved but lips sealed shut and windows for eyes, he sat under the shade in the middle of the night of wind and grass until clang the clamour and chime as the clocktower struck

The heart of the night; but in it he felt something amiss while the air, something amore—the scent. It was. Of farewell.

*

Jiro had on his tray a bowl of barley rice and scallion soup, complimented by a side of radish drowned in soy sauce and a tiny dish of potato salad—which he'd taken a liking to since he'd stopped making breakfast in the morning. It was a tad too much effort for a single person and cooking for one person was never worth the amount and expenses of the ingredients he'd have to use. Pipa was the one who'd suggested he join them at breakfast in the dining hall every morning instead, and there he discovered the power of a good potato salad.

"This isn't seasoned," muttered Nash as he reached for the salt and pepper shakers whilst glaring at his bowl of potato salad. Jiro glanced down at his own. "Is that why you're sad too? Here, take it," he slid over the saltshaker once he was done piling crystals atop his dish. "Sweet potato salads are a disappointment."

The nightingale nodded in thanks, quietly amused as he accepted the bottle of seasoning. Across him, Vijay had returned to their table with four additional servings of grilled corn and was handing them out.

"They just refilled the corn and these were the last four. I can't believe it... even Mr. Sullivan joined the queue but he was four to five behind, so. I didn't even know he liked corn."

Nash was always the one with additional remarks. "Sullivan, as in, Io's eagle friend?" He nearly snorted aloud. "Io likes corn. Doesn't take a genius to know why he was queueing for them."

Vijay was about to laugh and pretend he understood whatever it was his mynah friend was referring to when a timely voice piped from behind the two—resembling the chirp of a sparrow eager to participate.

"How did you know about me liking corn?" Io had popped his head between the two and looked between them, giving Pipa and Jiro on the other side of the table a wave as he did so. "I'm hoping they're coming back with more since Dmitri said Luka seemed to be wanting some. It looks really good." He stared longingly at the grilled corn on everyone's tray.

At once, Jiro gestured for him to come over, sliding his portion of the luxury vegetable towards the empty seat beside him. He'd never really kicked the habit of always having available food for his roommate, not even after they began living apart.

"No no, you have it," said Io before filling the empty seat and pushing the plate back towards its owner. "I came to ask if you were okay. Last night at the infirmary... something happened. Were you kicked out because of it?"

"Wha, wha?" Pipa turned with her mouth full, quickly identifying a source of piping-hot tea ready to spill. "Wha happen?"

Nash threw a napkin in her face before glancing over at the sparrow with a frown. "You sure you're allowed to be sharing this with just about anyone? Not that we don't want to hear it. Just. Being sure," he finished airily, looking away before finally turning back as though waiting for the news.

"I... I guess it's sort of private," was what Io ended up saying with guilty fingers, fiddling behind his back. "Sorry. It's just been a long night and I was um, just worried. About Jiro." He then rubbed his eyes.

The nightingale himself blinked, pausing before reaching into his bookbag for a notepad. I'm okay, he wrote, nothing happened. Was there something at the infirmary? ;-;

"You weren't there at all?" Io struggled to connect the dots. "But then... because Luka tried to look for you when we heard about, um, the... nothing. Nothing's adding up, but at least you're safe," he finished, visibly tired and fond of confusing himself due to a lack of sleep.

This added to the concerns of everyone else at the table, who were quick to exchange looks and direct their full attention to the exhausted sparrow trying to flap its wings. They waited, giving him the time to collect his thoughts and put them together in his head.

"Take my lemonade," Pipa handed over her glass of the untouched beverage. "You look like you haven't had a good meal in weeks!"

"Yeah, you probably didn't season your potatoes," was all Nash had to say with a disgruntled huff. "Get yourself together, Io."

Meanwhile, Vijay was already removing the several amulets on his bookbag and tying them around the sparrow's wrist, expounding to him the wonders of these tiny things and what each of them represented. And Io, heartened by the words of his friends and the concern they displayed over his current state of disorder, found himself unable to restrain the creature in his cage.

"I—well, they might be announcing this by the end of today I guess, so, it wouldn't really make much of a difference if I told you guys now. No harm doing that, right? So. Well... Lord Falrir? He... he's passed. Last night."

He felt in him a creeping dread that rattled the bars within as soon as the words left his lips but the response he received, an empty silence, seemed better than any outburst of fury or disappointment. They had on their faces a form of disbelief; pale and cracked like hardened clay.

"He's... dead?" Vijay was the first to say and despite having lowered his voice to a great extent, Nash did not miss the opportunity to hit the side of his head and issue the order of further whisperings by placing a finger on his lips. Io had glanced over at his nightingale friend to observe the expression on his face but the latter had his head lowered.

The taste of something, present in the air last night—ah. He understood now. And then, that which was amiss—ah. He understood now.

The rest of the table drew closer, huddling around with a remainder of ten minutes breakfast time. "I thought the dragon was immortal." "I-if he dies... what happens then?" "But he was so powerful. He can't... he can't die." And as much as Io did not wish for them to be having such a conversation at the breakfast table, he couldn't help but add.

"Maybe powerful things, too, die. Maybe power isn't enough to make one immortal," said the sparrow, recalling how the final spark in the dragon's eyes had receded into a pale, sacred light. It was funny how he could at once imagine a dying king or an ailing governess; powerful people at the mercy of the all-powerful, all-knowing Death.

Vijay had other things on his mind and many what if's under his breath, coming to terms with everything but that which was real. He hypothesized a possibility of reincarnation and another, a parallel universe in which the dragon was not wounded from the flames that were his own, filling the silence until the ring of the bell.

Pipa was the one who prompted him to take her to class while Nash had glanced over at Io with an expression he could not quite read, seconds before informing Jiro that he'd be spending his free period in a professor's office.

"She's giving me extra credits for every folder I file, so." The mynah nodded once and for a moment, appeared as though he had more to say. He then decided against it, gathering his things and slinging his bookbag over his shoulder. "Bye, I guess. See you at dinner."

Io watched them go, waving when Pipa turned over her shoulder to do so and all of a sudden, realized that she'd given Vijay a good excuse to leave and think things through on his own. Quietly glad, he hadn't noticed Jiro waiting for him to notice his presence whilst the latter watched him wave; and when he did, nearly jumped like Lyra often did at loud noises.

"O-oh! I thought you'd left already. Luka and Vaughn have some private meeting elsewhere so they get to skip class but that means I don't really have anyone to head over to the north wing with," the sparrow explained sheepishly, pointing at the books in Jiro's arms. "What about you?"

The nightingale pointed at a mini-schedule he had attached to the front page of his organizer, filled with pages of every pastel colour. Monday, eight in the morning—class N21.

"We're headed the same way then," Io had to state the obvious, nervous all of a sudden because he knew he'd start launching into an involuntary interrogation the moment they were alone which was, unfortunately, now. "Just now, I... so I was worried. You know that. Um... I hope you don't mind us talking."

Jiro only laughed, shaking his head quickly before starting towards the north wing and taking out his notepad and a pen. His companion hurried along.

"So, yes. Just now. Actually, that wasn't all," Io admitted at once, expression guilty as charged. Chewing on his lower lip, he waited for the nightingale to give what he'd considered the green light to rattle on. And when he did, the rattling was long.

From the sounds he'd heard coming from Slayne's room to the startling encounter of Umbra inside and then, the latter's unlikely reasoning, Io had every sentence packed with descriptions of the night before. He watched as his companion appeared to react at every turning point in his story, slightly fazed by the notepad that he'd left blank till the very end.

I'm so sorry for worrying you ;-; I really did spend some time at the infirmary after an evening check-up after dinner and I did ask this other prey at the infirmary for help with extra clothes. And after that, some people came into the room and said I needed to leave, so I was under the tree outside my predator's window till a little after midnight. He finished penning down in the midst of their journey across the courtyard, glancing over at Io as soon as he did.

"Nono, you don't have to be apologizing," the sparrow waved his hands around at once, taken aback by the apologetic look in Jiro's eyes. "It's so much better than Umbra, well, I mean... I guess I might have jumped to conclusions a little too. I've gotten a little more paranoid and my thoughts—well, ever since the coronation night and the Hunters... at least you're safe and Umbra isn't actually, haha, you know. I was afraid he wasn't who Jeremiah thought he was. It would be really painful, that would."

Jeremiah is Umbra's partner, correct? His friend wrote and Io nodded in response.

"They seem to get along. But for some reason, I could never be too sure either, so... how did you get to know him? Umbra, I mean," he asked next, curious.

"Oh!" Jiro let slip before starting to write again, leaving Io understandably in awe of the nightingale's voice despite it being a mere sound he'd heard. He was in the bed adjacent to mine at the infirmary after the coronation, and then again yesterday. But the nurse said he could return to his room as soon as he had his wounds patched up, so I asked him for help with my clothes /.\

"That's reasonable," said the sparrow, inserting all absent dots and finally being able to connect them for a clearer picture of things. "So it all corroborates. I guess I really was being a little paranoid. Vaughn did say overthinking was his greatest weakness. I suppose he's right... it wasn't very nice of me to suspect Umbra. He must have been traumatised by the Hunters taking him hostage too."

At this, Jiro turned to him with a blink. Hostage?

"Oh yes, I didn't tell you about it," they neared the entrance of the north wing and Io stopped in his tracks to say. "That night, across the bridge to the library, Lord Falrir and I happened to see some Hunters with Umbra who had this huge gash on his arm... he looked like he was in pain. I really should have done something right then. Maybe he'd open up more if we did."

But before the sparrow could start again towards the stairs, Jiro held fast onto his arm and it was unlike any other act Io had seen him do. A swift, soundless strike that, for a moment, frightened the creature in his cage.

Did you tell anyone about this? He's scribbled as soon as Io's attention was latched onto him. The latter shook his head at once, oddly nervous.

"No... no, I..." He began on instinct but soon realized his mistake. "I mean, yes. I told the other Knights and the members of the Order who asked for my account. I mean, he was held hostage. Everyone would have been concerned, especially since he's one of us now."

Jiro averted his gaze, releasing his grip on Io's arm and bowing in apology. He seemed to scribble, then cancel, scribble, and then pause before finally showing his notepad to Io as they came to a slow near the front door of his classroom.

I didn't realize he had that injury when we were in the infirmary, that's all, he wrote, smiling once. It was visibly stiff, and no fool would have had the heart to swallow the words he'd laid out. Naturally, Io was not one to let this go.

"That's... is that, really?" He stopped the nightingale from entering his class and with furrowed brows and concern at the forefront of his mind, pressed on. "Is that all?"

He was relieved when Jiro returned his concern with the smile he was used to seeing and an added hug. Though his companion did not proceed to write on his notepad or attempt to communicate otherwise, he'd held out his pinky for a swear and for Io, that was really all he needed.

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"It's like when your gym partner's not around and you gotta make do with someone else, you know?" said Odile to the sparrow, taking his hands and tugging them towards himself. There was an audible crack in which had the latter groaning at every stretch of his back muscles. "Everything okay? Don't push yourself... you look sick."

Io could only nod, pausing for recovery's sake before returning the favour and tugging on Odile's hands. He found himself greatly ousted in every way possible; the swan's arms were extending way beyond the maximum distance he could afford to pull. While this was no ordinary gym period, everyone else had somehow fallen into their usual pairs and Io, without his eagle friend, found himself with a certain other black swan. The class of hearts were in the middle of a ten-minute warm up before their very first training session as Knights—all except Luka and Vaughn, who'd been called on by Professor Viktor for unknown reasons.

The sparrow, mildly embarrassed by his complete lack of malleability and athleticism, couldn't help the multiple glances he'd stolen in Umbra's direction, only to be disappointed by the fact that Umbra had been given a notice of abstinence from general physical activity.

Io heard another limb come loose with a crack.

"Only your partner's now someone on a completely different level," he laid out frankly, putting Luka and his stretching routine into context and realizing that they were both equally stiff. The pair dubbed themselves aspiring toe-touchers, or so Io did. "Is Vaughn as flexible as you?"

"He's crazy for a non-dancer," laughed Odile before helping the sparrow with his lower back. "Ballet or contemporary, at least. Actually, I don't know—what does Alekseyev do in his free time?"

"Read books. Shop for hair products and sometimes redecorate his dorm on special occasions," listed Io before noting that these weren't the most detailed answers either. After all, the vulture couldn't possibly be reading all the time, could he? "Are you not allowed to talk while stretching in gym?"

"Unspoken rule, I guess," the swan shrugged; shoulder-length hair identical to his sister's bouncing a little. He produced a hair tie and had his locks gathered into a low ponytail. "I'm okay with silence. If he's okay with that too then nothing's wrong, right?"

"You could say so," Io nodded vaguely, watching Lucienne and Odette bend all the way backwards into a human 'U' without each other's help. "Just wondering how he was before I, um, popped up."

Odile paused, rolling up his sleeves before helping Io into the human 'U', only it looked like a coffee table more than anything else. "He sits in front of me in Latin and down two rows in Biology two years ago. Full marks on every test. Pop quizzes too... I never really talked to him except when it came to questions both my sister and I can't do. We split the work by the way—Odette does arithmetic and physics, all that theory thing. I'm history and stuff like that, so we get work done really fast."

The sparrow was about to express his fascination with the system they'd come up with and reveal all aspects of inefficiencies whenever Luka and him got to doing homework (snacking on sunflower seeds, allowing of chat-time about irrelevant topics, answering of curious questions stemming from textbook paragraphs) when he heard his name from across the hall.

It was Professor Faustes.

Odile had lifted Io out of the human coffee table shape at once before swiftly joining the neighbouring pair (Dmitri and Jeremiah), waving shortly as though reluctant to draw Faustes' attention to himself.

"Hi sir," Io began, suppressing the urge to rub his eyes. "Is, um, is this about Lord Falrir or Luka?"

"Neither," droned the falcon, glancing at his watch. "Stop thinking about other people and get some sleep over free period. Your eagle's already on the airship with Viktor and some other kids. I need you to join Jane in the training hall above. Top floor."

"Luka's on the airship?" Was what Io's attention had narrowed in on at once, eyes now wide with concern. "Why? Is Vaughn there too? Isn't it dangerous to go now?"

He received a hand in his face. "Too many questions that I don't want to answer so I won't. Training hall. Top floor. Now." Faustes propelled the sparrow towards the stairs. "You can leave your things here and pick them up later. You guys should be ending earlier than those down here since... yeah, since I'm taking them."

"But sir," it was becoming increasingly difficult for Io to breathe; what with wave after wave, tide after tide of hardship crashing over his head mere days apart—he hadn't had the time to settle and think and digest. "I doubt my mind is going to rest knowing that Luka isn't nearby. Would you like it if Professor Callaghan was—"

"You cheeky little shit," Faustes snapped at once, stopping inches away from the door and turning at the sparrow's words. "That's how all you brats are going to get killed... I'm sending you to Jane because she knows where Sullivan and the others went so get your ass up there now because I have an entire class of Dmitri Ford to handle. And reactions when I tell them about the dragon," he finished in a weary voice, entering the hall and letting the weight of the double doors close behind him.

He'd left a guilty little sparrow standing in the middle of the hallway, hand raised before the apology he hadn't the chance to voice. Then after a minute's worth of empty thinking, he turned and slowly made his way up.

________________

Hwang Jae-min Viktor is the author of the soon-to-be bestselling novel: How to Corner Your Very Own Vaughn Alekseyev. While the subject of this title had found himself coerced into joining the special ops as a part-time summer job, he certainly hadn't considered doing so before the holidays but lo and behold, Jae-min the expert would beg to differ.

In fact, Vaughn did not know what to do with the brand new adidas originals duffle bag he was holding, courtesy of no one but his step-brother. Stuffed with his favourite pair of distressed jeans, black sweatshirts and outerwear in every shade of grey, necessary hair products, two types of hairbrushes, a cup of instant ramen for emergency purposes, and his knighting uniform just in case he would get his other clothes dirty (yes, those were the only purpose his knighting uniform served), he braced himself for the seven-hour flight. Simply put: the vulture was not fond of flying.

Beside him was Luka Sullivan, who—although very obviously lacking in training compared to Vaughn-the-professional who'd taken up so many more past jobs under his mother's instructions and won so many (just four) season games—had been recruited to join them at the very last minute.

Now what, exactly, was he to be joining? Such a thought had yet to cross the eagle's mind as he found himself unsurprisingly distracted by a particular documentary series about sparrows on the highlight section of the inflight entertainment system.

The sparrows were very cute. But they were not Io.

This got Vaughn scoffing and rolling his eyes, plugging in his headphone jack whilst thinking it insanely ridiculous how Viktor had failed to notice such an alarmingly flawed physical state. It certainly did not help that Luka was the kind of person who did nothing but listen to a single entity.

"I can't believe your first mission's within days of our knighting," whispered the vulture under his breath, hiding behind a black cotton face mask that Dmitri has termed 'edgy' which offended Vaughn dearly because he never wished to identify with any fashion trend, ever, when he wished to only ever think of himself as an individual with... well, individuality. "You're barely fit for any of this."

Luka turned to the person seated beside him, blinking once before sliding the pair of headphones down to his neck.

"Viktor asked," he said simply. "I wouldn't volunteer to join anything if Io wasn't involved."

"I commend you for your honesty," was all Vaughn managed without letting the second-hand embarrassment get to his head. "Tell me why I didn't think of that."

"Maybe... you weren't thinking?" The eagle had the gall to suggest with the straightest face. Vaughn was this close to depriving his partner of sparrow documentaries by instructing the crew to turn off the inflight entertainment. He successfully convinced himself otherwise since it would be an unfair call for the rest of the team on board; which consisted of: Caiteng and Zijun—members of the school's underground operation team and acquaintances of Jing—and Professor Viktor himself.

"Testosterone too much I breathe." Zijun had on his face an eye mask plastered over his eyes but had unfortunately left his lips free to mumble the false Engrish he was known to speak, slapping the thighs of his fellow Chinese partner every now and then out of sheer boredom. "This one too hard."

He received a friendly crotch grab in return and was left spluttering curses with a lopsided eye mask.

"Right," Viktor began, turning behind with a couple of folders before handing them out. "Seatbelt sign's off so I'm going to start on the brief. Everyone take one of these and turn to the profiling section. Skip the regulations—we'll do that one later.

"First seven tabbed red are Predators. Graduates, some. Others just ordinary students like yourself taking up private commissions and never returning," he started by holding up a thicker file of his own, skipping descriptions of gory images. Depictions of what remained—impossible to identify.

"The next four," he flipped, moving on. "Possibly identified Hunters. Possibly, meaning, we aren't sure. And that's what we're going to be changing today. Either way, you'll notice a trend in the autopsy reports... anyone?"

Zijun was not having a good time. Though unsurprisingly experienced with snapshots of a crime scene or those included in autopsy reports for pointing out key features, these images were a step out of his comfort zone. However disturbing they appeared against the ivory backing of printed paper, he could not mistake it for anything else; an ear, sliced clean from its owner's head, delicate like a piece of ham so thinly cut for the rest of the whole and left, bloodless and dry, to rot in the night.

He reached for his earlobes at once.

"All victims classified under possible Hunters have their ears cut off. Two of the seven tabbed red lost theirs too," Caiteng sped through each profile at an optimal speed. Several looked familiar; as though he'd already seen them before. "You think maybe we're looking at two killers instead of one?"

Viktor gave the rest of the team a disappointed shake of his head before returning his attention to its only diligent member.

"A hitman. We're paying one a visit to figure this out. See if he's had any clients lately or recent activity we can dig out—then drop by this spot over here for some clues," he directed them towards a map attached to the back of the entire report without any specification of an exact location. "Kirill doesn't want to leave anything unturned."

"A hitman?" Caiteng paused, registering the absence of this information in their folders. "Like, a contract killer?"

"Something like that," said the condor with a sigh. "He's a secretarybird. A Heart in my year back then who kept a low-enough profile for you not to know anything more than his name." This was a first for Vaughn, hearing Jae-min speak about his past or raise it at his own will. He attempted to steer his expression away from appearing all-too-curious but the urge to steal a glance at the look in his step-brother's eyes was increasingly hard to resist.

Zijun on the other hand, seemed to have invaded the vulture's Link or rather, the general air in the cabin. Blatantly, he asked. "So you friend?"

"I saw him around," Viktor shook his head, distracting them from his carelessly vague answer. Vaughn could feel the discomforting tickle in his cage from the closing of the blossom within—once scarlet with passion but now an infant bud with the curve of its petals, shut.

His partner seated beside him was miraculously unaffected by the sparrows hopping and flitting across the screen in front of him, attention perfectly split between cute birds and unnatural deaths. Luka turned to Viktor with a question.

"And he'll talk?" The eagle had the slightest frown upon his brow. "Just like that?"

At this, the condor responded with a snort. He put away the folder of papers and returned to his seat in a single motion, leaving the team hanging. "There's a reason I brought you people along." 

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A/N: The secretarybird is a bird of prey that stomps on the head of its prey to kill them and has unusually long legs for its body. They are known for their ridiculously long eyelashes that seem like they have on permanent mascara and beady black eyes that are honestly so seductive up close. Hmm why am I finding birds attractive hMmmMmMmMmmMMM

I'll probably be updating as soon as I land in London in one and a half weeks!

-Cuppie