Vaughn was eleven years old when he first met his step-brother Viktor and it was no surprise that the former had taken an immediate liking to the seventeen-year old then. They were alike in many ways, preferring the quiet happiness that many other children their age had found little interest in.

"Jae," was what he used to call his step-brother, an affectionate version of his given name. He was quite the opposite of the vulture's biological brother—a charismatic young man studying at Flight School and according to himself, well sought after by many during the mating season. "Jae, what are we making today?"

"Seafood pancake," Jae-min produced a batter mix and pushed a stool beside the kitchen counter so that Vaughn could stand on it. "You like that, right?"

The younger one had always been rather reluctant in showing his emotions—whether or not they were affectionate. "Well...as long as it's not spicy."

"I know, I know," His step-brother handed him a whisk and a mixing bowl. "But you should try some of mother's Kimchi. It's good."

"No!" Vaughn made a face—easily read, really—as he watched Jae-min cut up the spring onions. "It's so red. I hate spicy things."

"Just a bit. A little bit," he emphasized, adding an estimated amount of milk to the pre-mix. "Here, mix this." Vaughn nodded obediently, taking the whisk and doing as told.

"When should I stop?"

"I'll tell you when."

"Okay," he piped happily, always glad to spend some time with Jae-min. It was as though he had a brother.

A real one.

"Is your dad going to marry my mom?" Vaughn asked after a while, amidst the rhythm of a knife.

Jae-min laughed, producing a frying pan which he placed over the electric stove. "Guess so. They've been going out for some time, after all."

"Are you okay with that?" He added, glancing at the eleven-year old. "Do you like my father?"

The vulture considered the question, hands coming to a stop partly due to his inability to multitask. He didn't know what it was like to have a father. Surely, the question wasn't the one for him to answer. After all, what could he expect of a father when he never had one?

"I don't know," Vaughn replied honestly, resuming his task at hand.

"But I like you, so I guess I like your father," he continued disarmingly, and it was this that threw the other completely off-guard. "It would be nice to have you around."

What Vaughn really meant was that he would like to have a brother. Not to replace the one who was away, no—but to be the one who was never there.

It seemed to him a complex thought to express in words, so he chose the easier route. Indeed, it would be nice to have Jae-min around all the time. He wouldn't have to spend his days alone.

"I...might not be around all the time though," Jae-min reminded with a smile to mask the pain that he believed children like Vaughn should not see. "I have to go to school." Vaughn responded by saying that he, too, would go to school as well and that two years was all he needed to be ready. Two years.

"I'll have graduated by then," his step-brother laughed, pinching the vulture's nose playfully. "You'll be a tiny fledgling. I wonder how you'd look like in your uniform. Very cute, I assume." The batter was completed, and a mildly indignant Vaughn emerged as a by-product of their conversation.

"Don't call me that!"

Jae-min turned on the heat and coated the pan with olive oil. "Cute. Cute cute cute—"

__________________________

"Cute."

Io caught the word off the lips of a passing Winged who he understood from the previous lesson sat two desks behind. He blinked in response, hoping that the word—whatever it had meant—was not directed at him. After all, he didn't know whether he should consider it an insult or a compliment; it was one of the core dilemmas that Pipa had posed to him a couple of days ago as he sat outside her locked door, exchanging the day's events.

At present, homeroom would begin in a couple of minutes and taking Jing's advice as usual, the sparrow was a tad earlier than the rest of his class. Moments before when his official homeroom tutor had relayed the fact that a member of Falrir's order was taking over his class specifically for reasons that were in whole relation to his assessment, he didn't panic.

Now, as he sat at his assigned table fidgeting restlessly, he couldn't help but do the opposite.

"You okay?" Someone familiar—a harpy eagle—stooped by his desk to ask. He wasn't quite sure what her name was, so he bypassed her question and went straight for his own instead.

"What's your name?" He recalled admiring her light hair and beautifully slanted eyes. "I'm Iolani Tori. But you can call me Io." A hand was offered, and she accepted it professionally.

"Pleasure. Lucienne Deveraux," she introduced shortly, a strange smile upon her lips. "I've heard a lot about you, Iolani."

"Io," he corrected immediately, eyes straying to the door before returning to the harpy eagle. "Really? I hope it's bad things. I don't think I should live up to good things. Good things are hard to live up to," he laughed, glancing—again—at the door. He was hoping to talk to Luka before class began.

Lucienne raised a skillful brow and found herself laughing as well. "Strange one you are. Just like they said."

"Really?"

"Yes, but you don't look the part," she went on, giving the sparrow a once-over in which she deemed ordinarily plain and dismissive. He wasn't the kind that people who notice right off the bat. The harpy eagle nodded briefly, signaling the end of their conversation before continuing towards her seat at the back. Io waved.

At this, he wondered if Luka was going to be late. After all, class would begin in less than two minutes and still, there was no sight of the golden eagle. For all intents and purposes, Io missed him terribly; he realized that missing someone was not a feeling, no it wasn't—not exactly. The longing that seemed so slow, so weary that it made time drag its feet and sunk the heart, it was a burden. A weight that one had to bear upon his shoulders while waiting.

Waiting.

The seat beside him remained empty and his thoughts brought him elsewhere. There was a knock, however. A knock that raised heads and turned all attention towards the doorway. There they found the phoenix standing by the door, holding it open as though it was for someone else to walk through and indeed, someone did.

It was an unfamiliar face.

To Vaughn Alekseyeve however, this statement did not fare well with his predicament. He knew the stranger all too well.

"Sit down, there's no need for," Viktor gestured to the stray few who stood up upon his abrupt entrance, "formalities." Vaughn and Io were among the few who did not stand in the first place—the former, utterly disgraced and embarrassed; the latter, curious and slightly eager to understand a sudden change in daily routines.

"Thank you, Jane," Io heard the new addition say to Jing, who nodded and made her way quietly to her seat in the far back.

Viktor did not spare his step-brother a glance. He was professional in the execution, as though this was part of a very formal procedure; just like every other new tutor taking over a class. Io found the man a little too charismatic to be part of the staff in Flight School—not the most pleasant compliment, but quite a leap for first impressions. Faustes was by far the most charismatic teacher and yet, in reality (Io had to admit), he fared rather badly on the general scale.

Immediately, he deduced that this teacher was, in fact, not a teacher at all. Io was prepared—he braced himself, though it wasn't such a nice feeling that everything new, every change they made, was all in part because of himself.

"There's no need for talk, I'll be introducing myself shortly," he said towards the students who were whispering away in the second row, flashing a fairly disarming smile that most people (human or not) would have found awfully pleasant. He didn't even need to call for attention. Vaughn however, dreaded this moment—God, it felt so unreal. He didn't want to believe that his step-brother was going to be his teacher (his homeroom tutor) for at least the next couple of weeks all because of a pathetic sparrow.

Oh, it was all his fault in the end. The sparrow's.

"You will refer to me as professor Viktor, your homeroom tutor for the time being due to," his dark eyes strayed to Io and it didn't startle the boy one bit, "certain reasons." A rare smile replaced the formerly charming version, leaving the class mildly impressed and silently curious. Out of them all, only Io and Vaughn—and most likely the phoenix—were well aware of the current predicament.

Viktor surveyed the small, quiet class and felt it necessary to relieve the tension that pulled taut in the air.

"Two questions. Ask me anything before we jump into administrative matters," he granted, creating a short buzz that translated into a series of exchanged looks. "Go on. But don't waste them, there are some things I will not answer due to procedures."

"How long will you be staying?" Someone piped almost immediately, and there were a couple of nods that implied a general agreement to the question posed. "We're used to having Faustes around."

"Yes, I am aware that professor Faustes has been teaching you for quite some time," he directed this at the bald eagle who spoke, who, in return, managed a small laugh of her own. "But he has to be away for the time being as he has other matter to settle. Therefore, you will be reporting to me for the next two months or so."

Io wasn't looking forward to such an extended assessment. He had assumed that this would be over within a week—but two months? That sounded more like imprisonment. How would they expect him to behave within these two months? Surely, they were going to pull something? If only Luka was here.

All he wanted was someone to speak to.

"Next question, then?" Viktor prompted, and it was Dmitri's turn to ask the raw ones that no one dared to venture near.

"What's your avian?"

It was the unspoken rule—generally understood as simple manners not to ask a teacher about their avian right off the bat. Had one wished to know, all they had to do was keep their ears open. Eyes were everywhere and certainly, there was no dark shadow that any one Winged could keep their avian hidden under for the longest time.

Viktor however, didn't seem to care, particularly, about said unspoken rules.

"Andean Condor," the smirk on his face was not one Io had imagined. Though the boy had no clue as to what exactly was an Andean condor, he was certain that the smile boded ill. "Guess my wingspan."

A general surprise seized the class for the mention of one's wingspan was, naturally, left to playful banter and boastful ventures. No professor would raise his or her wingspan, let alone allow them to make a casual guess out of it. It simply wasn't done, and yet it was very much a common topic amongst predators.

The bald eagle from before began warily. "Yours or your Avian's?"

"For an easier guess, my Avian's," Viktor surveyed the rest of the class. "Not gonna try?"

It didn't take a genius to deduce that the very nature and tone of such a question—guessing one's wingspan—would mean that the number was large. No Winged would raise the topic without some intention to frighten, scare, or impress.

Just minutes in, Slayne was wondering if the minute hand would miraculously start speeding up. It didn't help that his eye was about to close. Nocturnes were usually asleep at such a time.

"6 feet," was Dmitri's first guess and already more than the average height of a human being. Io couldn't imagine himself being placed horizontally and still losing to a pair of wings. For a moment there, he was disappointed in himself. Then he remembered that he was still fourteen and growing. Surely, he'd surpass the average height. Surely, he must.

"Guess again."

"6'9," the bald eagle snickered to herself and half the class sighed in response, rolling their eyes. "What? Just a guess."

"Not a clever one," Viktor sided the rest of the class, thinking that he should start calling on others before the entire class would consist of merely a bald eagle and a falcon.

He found that he needn't.

"7'3," a light-haired girl seated at the front offered with a twirl of her pen. Io recognized her as the white swan he'd seen on several occasions. He found her immensely attractive with an unspoken air of elegance, but figured he had not the skills to talk to such people after all. Wait. As far as Io was aware of, Luka was highly attractive as well.

Hm, guess he'd have to do away with such a perception.

"Not even close," Viktor appeared rather amused by this point, and that was when a student seated at the middle row decided to give it his all amongst shocked faces.

"9 feet, sir. Considering the average wingspan of your Avian," the kite said with an accent, his smile finding its way into easy hearts which adored a good charm. He was the only one who had bothered with his manners so far. The average wingspan of an Andean condor was around 8 feet, but Jeremiah Reyes was one who pleased many others with subtle words and actions.

The moment Viktor acknowledged this with a single nod, the entire class went very quiet. Had he not been a member of the Order, someone—at some point of time—would have made the comment that everyone was thinking: but you're just a scavenger.

"That's very big," Io piped out of nowhere, and all eyes turned on him. "You must be very proud of that."

It was a useless thing to point out. Almost meaningless, had it been any other person he was speaking to but Iolani Tori was speaking to a vulture.

And vultures were rarely proud to be scavengers.

They were just part of the system. Not at the top nor at the bottom; just...there. It reminded Viktor of the time where people used to laugh at him for having a large wingspan.

'Wasted on a scavenger'.

"I am, Tori. Thank you," Viktor had addressed him directly and for some reason, it infuriated Vaughn very much indeed. He wished he hadn't responded to the sparrow. "Jokes aside, we need to settle some administrative matters."

These words signed the reversion of minds to a formal occasion, one that did not include casual discussions of wingspans and careless smiles. The excitement was over; and Io could not help but wonder what was going to come next.

"As professor Faustes has announced previously, I believe the details regarding your field trip have yet to be discussed, so," he leaned against the blackboard with crossed arms. "Destination. Let's decide on one."

Io found this particularly strange—the word 'destination'. It appeared as though their end had, ages ago, been decided like the serving of different dishes to a single table. He felt it necessary to assume that they would remain on the floating island till graduation, at least according to the headmistress' rules and regulations. All was to be confined.

But then how were they to leave this wretched place if even flying would not do?

"How far, sir?" Jeremiah prompted.

"There are no restrictions—as far as I'm concerned," the professor noted, glancing through a folder of papers whilst doing so. "Transport has already been arranged."

"And yes, you will have the luxury of the entire airship to yourselves," Viktor added with little flair, "again."

A buzz warmed the air that was once impassively cold but not one destination had been raised. Io considered suggesting his hometown, but found that there was little they could learn or experience—whatever the purpose of a field trip was, really. Io had never been on a field trip. Not back in the village, and certainly not in his days as prey.

When the class had finally resumed its usual state of still water, it was Viktor's suggestion of visiting Falrir's divine temple in the Alps that brought their voices back to life.

"Professor, that would be a waste of our field trip."

"Sir, the Alps?"

Slayne had his head rested on his desk by this point.

"Well, at least we'd be allowed to shift there."

Viktor was quick to correct this. "No. You will not be shifting anywhere on earth, and I'm quite sure you know that," he checked the register, "Miss Kale."

The bald eagle sighed with a roll of her eyes. "Sure."

"New York. L.A—wait no, Vegas? I swear, a burger would be good these days..." Dmitri lamented to himself and Io found him thoroughly amusing, noting the observation on a planner that Jiro had given to him yesterday. Dmitri likes burgers.

The sparrow found that he wasn't quite sure what a burger was, and noted this down as well. He would have to ask Luka later. Oh, and find out if Luka liked burgers as well.

He then proceeded to draw eights on a blank page.

"I've heard about a flight facility in the Philippines," the kite raised without hesitation. "Can we train there?"

"As far as I am aware Kite, this is a field trip—not a work-out camp," Viktor laughed with a shake of his head. "I doubt your friends here would like some additional practice."

"I would," Io let slip before turning red with embarrassment, "actually. Uh. Mmhm."

The air was turning pale with discomfort, leaving the sparrow quite troubled indeed. Professor Viktor must have appeared strangely sympathetic then, when he directed the raw and distinct attention to his very own step-brother.

"Vaughn? What do you think?"

Caught off-guard, the vulture turned slightly pink, fairly used to being the wallflower. It was ironic, really, that he had the most eye-catching hair and outstanding grades. He was, after all, a scavenger—and it was hard to break away from expectations.

"Nothing."

Everyone was looking at him.

"What do you mean by nothing?" For all intents and purposes, Viktor was enjoying this and Vaughn could tell by the smile on his lips. It was a smirk. The kind that Vaughn wished to wipe off another's face. "This is a compulsory trip after all. I'm sure your classmates would like to have your take on this."

No, they would not. The class of hearts rarely associated with one another. Apart from Dmitri taking a slight interest in the harpy eagle beside him and the twin swans that only spoke to each other, the top of the pyramid were hardly acquaintances, let alone friends.

After all, each and every one of them were...

Highly territorial.

"How about I take this to the headmistress and let her decide for all of you?" Viktor offered and the first thought that crossed Io's mind as he looked up was—no.

Several shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. We always get to enjoy what we're doing," the bald eagle laid out with a yawn. It was blunt and coarsely put but the majority had to admit; she was right. There was a single restless heart however, that set itself apart from this majority and naturally, it was the sparrow himself.

He had an inkling—just a mild discomfort—that V would not make his life so easy after all. It wasn't a rare case that Io had never heard before; punishing others for a sole being's existence was an easy way to turn them all against the one, lonely person.

*

It was time he confronted the vulture.

"Vaughn," Io, the president of the Astronomy Club shuffled over to his desk upon the dismissal of class. "Have you been skipping club activities?"

The accusatory tone provoked a disgruntled response.

"I don't have a club."

"That's not true," instantly, a club attendance book was shoved into the vulture's face. "Here. Look, your name's here. You are part of the Astronomy club aren't you?" Vaughn wanted so much to turn invisible but God in the form of an author was not so kind to bestow such magic upon his shriveled soul.

"Your point?" He said instead in a lowered voice—careful not to reveal his true nature to those who knew not this bitter side of his. Predators perceived him as a winner; a shrewd, cold scavenger that fed upon the metaphorical remains of others while prey viewed him as a nightmare. A demon with a smile.

Io folded his arms. "As the club president, I will deduct your...your merit points!" The sparrow had close to no idea what he was saying. He had been searching his mind for some form of consequence to skipping club activities before recalling that Callaghan hadn't relayed any. To think that demerit points would scare a vulture.

Io had to be kidding.

By some miracle, his strategy worked. Not the ordinary way that it would have worked for other students, no—it wasn't as though Vaughn was truly afraid of getting marked off for skipping club activities or punished for demerit points, not really.

"It's not as if you have anything planned," his bitter self couldn't hide for long. Not in front of this sparrow who disarmed. "I would be wasting my time."

"I do," Io countered, sounding slightly happier now that Vaughn showed signs of actually attending club sessions on Wednesday nights. "Come and you'll see." The vulture was about to decline the invitation in the most collected manner possible when he was met with an equally spontaneous response—a quick wave from the sparrow before he disappeared around the corner, just beyond the doorway.

Io had left a quietly confused Vaughn in his seat, still trying to wrap his mind around the few seconds of conversation that unfolded before his eyes a little too quickly for him to process. No, he was not going to stay up late. No, no.

As far as Vaughn was concerned, he had sworn he'd never love the night ever again.

__________________________

The rain drummed its fingers against the window that he was staring at, the whisper of wind across the grounds creating with it a rhythm that lulled the island to sleep. Noon was approaching fast but where the sun should have been—hung high in the sky—lurked a heavy grey that seemed to weigh upon the land and crack what was blue and white into two. Then, thunder.

All was very well for Iolani Tori.

He sat amongst the chaos that raged in the external world, independent of his mind—completely untouched, seemingly unaffected. His thoughts crossed the idea of Luka getting caught in the rain, wandering to the prospect of passing his friend an umbrella, only to arrive at the conclusion that he knew not where the other was.

He figured that there was time to search for him, and perhaps a bird's eye view would, indeed, lend a helping hand at such times. Lyra made herself comfortable on his shoulder, reminding him to bring a larger umbrella.

Surely, Io could have brought two but for some reason, neither Avian nor Winged suggested this easier option.

So he set off in search for Luka—registering the mild desire for a chilled lemonade at the back of his mind. It would have been a great comfort indeed, to have an ice-cold drink in his hands on a hot summer afternoon. Just like so.

_________________________

A/N: Smirky face :> someone is hot.

Thank you so much for reading. I'll try my best to start annotating my own work so that the symbolism and foreshadowing can actually be clearer for you guys to pick up ^0^/ I've had feedback that it might be hard for the casual/general reader to infer such complexities so I was wondering if I could do anything to help ;-; You all are so kind to read anyway.

I've been reading the comments from the previous chapter and really want to reply but gosh I kind of read them in the middle of my breaks so I end up not having enough time to reply to all of them ;-; I'm terribly sorry.

Just know that your very presence here is appreciated by this tiny cupcake over here :') still hanging on. Always hanging on.

Thank you so much :')

-Cuppiecake.

P.S picture at the top is an Andean condor ;-; i-it's twice my size if I were to be placed horizontally. Honestly I'm just so scared when they spread their wings GOSH.