How are you feeling right now?

The page was blank save for the question at the top. It had taken Jett some time to sound out the words and understand their meaning. Reading didn't come easily to him. It never had.

Even when his mother tried to teach him his letters so many years ago, he'd struggled to sit still and focus, finding the birds hopping on the ground or chirping from trees to be far more interesting. When she died, he hadn't cared to practice his letters any more.

So now he sat, staring at the stack of papers. It wasn't a stack, really - there were only three sheets, and each had one question printed on it. His task for the day was to answer them. Homework, Seb had said. It hadn't seemed so bad when Seb dropped them off this morning, but now an entire hour had passed and Jett felt utterly lost.

Reading was one thing. Writing was another.

How was he supposed to answer this? Some of the words he didn't recognize, but the examples provided gave him an idea of what was expected.

How are you feeling right now? Describe it, using internal and external sensations. For example, are you frowning? Smiling? Do you feel queasy? Relaxed?

The question sat in his mind and burned like coal. How was he feeling? He scoffed. He felt that this was silly. Pointless. Why did he have to sit here and answer useless questions when he could be out there, doing something, anything, to help.

The urge to get up and try the door arose, but he didn't act on it. It was locked. He'd checked after Seb had left the last time, testing the handle, tugging, pushing, rattling the heavy slab of metal with as much strength as he could muster. It hadn't budged.

Instead, his gaze tracked over to the new object sitting on the table and some of his frustration faded. Seb had brought it this morning, nestled on a tray between a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of milk like it was part of his breakfast.

A piece of his suit. A forearm guard, a small armor piece that snapped into place above his wrist with a long opening to allow for the wing spikes. It was entirely useless on its own, but Jett didn't care.

It was his, and he had it back.

The object's smooth white surface gleamed golden in the lantern's light. It was the only spot of brightness in the entire room and compared to simple, minimalistic things provided to him, it clearly was out of place, almost as if it didn't belong here.

But it did, because it was his.

He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips across it. A smile tugged at his lips. It was only a small part of his suit, but Seb said he'd bring another piece once Jett finished with this homework. At this rate, it'd be a matter of days, or maybe a couple of weeks before he'd have the entire thing back.

The smiled faded as he returned his attention back to the stupid pages in front of him.

How are you feeling right now?

"Annoyed," he muttered. Then on a whim, he drew a circle on the page. Two dots became eyes, and a wavy line for a mouth. To clarify that it was a face, he drew on some little ears and several short lines for hair.

"Hmm." He frowned a little. It didn't really look like an annoyed face. It didn't look happy or mad, either, so it was definitely somewhere in between. It'd have to do.

The rest of the question was a bit confusing. Something about describing how he felt, which seemed kind of pointless. After some thought, he drew some more on the paper, adding arrows to indicate certain areas. The page quickly became a mess of scribbles and messy drawings, but hopefully Seb would be able to make sense of it.

If not, well, that's what the mummy man got for handing out silly homework.

Jett set the first page aside. The next had a question that made him frown.

What was the first time that you were scared? What did you do? What did that feel like?

"Why does he need to know that?" Jett tapped his pencil on the table top, his gaze once more wandering to the forearm guard. It gleamed gently, its presence serving as both comfort and motivation. "Well, whatever."

Considering he'd spent most of his life being scared of something or other, it wasn't a really hard question to answer. The first time he remembered be frightened was the day he realized his mother was deathly ill like nothing he'd ever seen before. A somber expression settled on his face, his thoughts going back to that day.

Almost absently, he began to draw. A square box. A stick person laying on the box. Longish, wavy hair, a blank face save for closed eyes. Beside this was a smaller stick person, but with a frown and eyes leaking tears.

He'd been so young then, at an age where most memories were distant and forgotten. Yet this particular moment remained fresh in his mind, because it was the moment he realized his mother was going to leave him and that he was going to be alone.

What did you do?

I cried, he thought, tracing over the tears falling from the smaller stick person's face. And then I started to dig a hole for her to rest in. Just like we did with those baby birds that had fallen out of the nest. He drew a circle, then scribbled inside to fill the space. It wasn't so hard to think about now since so much time had passed, yet he couldn't help but feel the faint ache of distant sorrow.

What did that feel like?

Jett scowled. What kind of question was that? It felt as awful as any kid losing his parent would feel. Was Seb stupid? What else was it supposed to feel like? He drew some angry lines on the page, then tossed it on top of the first.

At least the third question wasn't so bad. Once he stumbled over the words, a few memories were already coming to mind.

Can you recall a time when you were happy? What happened? What did you think about?

Leaning forward, Jett bent his head over the page, pencil scratching against the paper as he carefully drew. Crooked lines and lumpy objects began to take shape, filling the entire page in an incomprehensible mess. His art skills were terrible, but he didn't particularly care.

Drawing was kind of fun.

The sound of the door unlocking pulled him away from his work, and he blearily looked up in time to see the door swing open.

Seb came in, eyes crinkling in a smile.

"Hello, little crow. How does it go?"

Jett rubbed at his eyes, forgetting he was still holding the pencil until he nearly stabbed himself in the face. He quickly lowered his hands, one setting the pencil down, the other going quickly to the pages. Suddenly he felt a bit uncertain.

What if his pictures weren't good enough? What if he'd done it all wrong?

He swallowed, carefully shuffling his papers into one pile before him. His forearms rested on top, preventing Seb from seeing them. "It's okay."

Seb regarded him from a moment, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Then he glanced out the door which he had neglected to close.

"You have a guest, one who's eager to see. Though I must attest, it baffles me - why in the hall he stays when he's been gone for days."

"It was barely two days," a familiar voice scoffed. Raven entered the room, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his long coat. He seemed almost sheepish, head turned away as he stared at the far wall. "You're making it sound longer than it was."

At the table, Jett sat very still. He stared at Raven, emotions warring within. There were so many things he wanted to do right now. He wanted to launch himself over the table and punch Raven for locking him in this stupid room. He wanted to demand the rest of his suit back, he wanted answers, and most of all, he had the ridiculous urge to throw his arms around the flyer and tell him to never disappear again.

He did none of those things, for Seb thankfully intervened. The bandaged man came to the table, his gaze flickering to the pages that Jett was hiding beneath his arms.

"I wish to ask: have you finished your task?"

"Task?" Raven sounded curious, and he wandered over. "What's this about?"

Jett cringed beneath both their attention, his facing growing hot. No doubt Seb wanted to see. And Raven too, for that matter. Jett didn't think they needed to see his drawings. They were stupid. And terrible.

He looked up, flinching from Seb's unwavering gaze before turning his attention to Raven. That's when his jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide.

"What happened to your face!"

"Oh, this?" Reaching up, Raven gently touched his own cheekbone, where a massive dark bruise swallowed an eye and discolored much of his cheek. "I was taking a nice walk outside and I tripped over a brick."

Jett stared incredulously. "You never trip."

"It was a very big, very dull brick. It packed quite the punch."

"You can't be serious! A brick?!" That was the stupidest thing Jett had ever heard. There was no way that was how Raven got hurt.

The corners of Raven's lips lifted into an eerily familiar smile. "Are you doubting me, little brother?"

Jett gulped. He knew that expression all too well. He hastily shook his head. "No."

"Good." Raven folded his arms, satisfied. He tilted his head in Seb's direction. "Now, Seb says he's been keeping you pretty busy."

"I guess."

That was one way to put it. Seb had been coming by fairly often, bringing Jett meals, clean clothes and water to wash with, and sometimes just stopping by to check in and see how he was doing.

Sometimes they'd end up talking, though Jett never knew how they always ending up talking about his past. Seb asked a lot of questions which should have been invasive, yet Jett never did feel bothered. Seb listened attentively, never judging or saying anything negative. Apart from the strange way the bandaged man talked, Jett found he didn't mind these little talks. They passed the time and it was nice to have someone willing to listen to whatever he had to say.

Though sometimes he wished it was Raven there instead of Seb.

"Hmmm."

The sound of Seb's voice caused Jett to look over at the other man. The bandaged man appeared to be perusing a familiar sheet of paper, one hand thoughtfully rubbing his chin. Jett glanced down at the table.

His homework was missing.

Blanching, his gaze flew back to Seb, just in time to see the man turn the page so that it was facing Jett. Seb pointed to a circular shape that had a bunch of scribbles inside. "What is this? A strange abyss?"

"Let me see." Raven walked around the table so he stood next to Jett. As he eyed the drawing, a slow smile unfurled on his face, amusement dancing in his violet eyes. "It looks like a mountain. With burned trees."

Heat rushed to Jett's cheeks and he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He buried his tomato-colored face in his hands. "It's not a mountain! Or an aby - abyss!" Whatever that was.

"Are you sure?" Sheer dubiousness colored Raven's tone.

Jett glared through his fingers at his brother. "It's a person!" How could neither of them see it? It wasn't the best depiction, sure, but it was clear as day to him.

He abruptly stood, shoving his chair back with a screech. Seb let him snatch the paper from his hands, and Jett slapped it onto the table. He jabbed a finger at it. "See! That's the face, those are the eyes, that's the mouth, and the hair! It's a person!"

"Ah," Seb nodded. "An apology. I do see. Who may this person be?"

"I don't see it," Raven said.

Jett ignored him. "It's supposed to be me," he explained to Seb. "I didn't know how to draw the expression, so I was trying to explain it with the arrows."

Seb's gaze settled on Jett, a hint of a furrow creasing his brow. He seemed puzzled. "You did not wish to write? 'T would be more... forthright."

Again, Jett flushed, but for an entirely different reason. He dropped his eyes to the table, unwilling to see anyone's disappointed faces. "I'm not good at... that stuff. Drawing's easier."

Silence filled the room.

It made Jett curl into himself. It wasn't his fault, he knew, yet it felt like it was anyway. Even the villager kids he grew up with knew more than he did. He could practically feel Raven's and Seb's disappointment heavy in the air, suffocating in its weight.

A hand dropped onto his head, heavy and warm. It ruffled his hair roughly before he managed to duck away. Craning his neck, he frowned up at the culprit. Violet eyes met his before Raven smirked.

"I think you should draw more."

"Eh?" Jett blinked. Was the guy serious? Or was he just fooling with him? He wasn't sure how to react to that.

As if sensing his confusion, Raven's expression softened, his little smirk relaxing into a hint of a genuine smile. "I'll help you with that when we have some time, but for now, why not draw? I like them."

Jett stared. Then he turned his gaze back to the page on the table. He knew what the pictures were supposed to be, but he was not blind. They looked horrible. Narrowing his eyes, he gave Raven a suspicious look. Is he joking?

"Indeed," Seb murmured. "We are agreed. Little crow, if I may - please tell, what does this say?" He held up another page, and Jett recognized it as the one that had asked when he felt afraid. Seb pointed at the main picture in the center, his gaze fixed pointedly on Jett.

It made Jett squirm uncomfortably. With a nervous swallow, he reached out for the paper. Seb handed it over. Laying it on the table on top of the first, Jett began to translate.

"This is... this is my Ma. She's in a bed and she's really sick. That's me, feeling sad." There was nothing but silence from his two listeners, so he continued, unwilling to let the silence last for a moment longer. He pointed a pile of dark scribbles circling the two stick people. "That's um... I'm didn't know how to draw it. It's like, the scary stuff. She was dying, and all I could think about was her leaving me behind. That's what that is."

He tapped another round shape, its center filled in with heavy, dark pencil strokes so that it appeared black. "That's her grave. I buried her next to Soar and Hops and Squeak. They made her laugh and I thought she'd like to be beside them."

"How old were you?" Raven's voice was soft.

"I'm not sure," Jett shrugged. "Maybe ten?"

A soft intake of breath came, but Raven didn't say anything else. Nor did he move, yet Jett could almost feel the flyer's gaze resting upon him.

"You were but a child," Seb mused. He appeared calm and unfazed by anything that had occured. "Left alone in the wild. A tragedy, true, but a survivor are you."

He leaned forward and set the final page upon the table. "And now that we know of a fear, please share what brings you cheer."

While the first two pages had a few drawings, this one barely had an open space left. He'd spent much longer on this one, mostly because he'd realized drawing about happy things was kind of fun. And he might have gotten slightly carried away.

Even as heat burned the tops of his ears, Jett gave a tiny smile. "Well, here's me flying. That's a bunch of silly Troit flyers beneath me, and they're shooting their guns but I'm too fast so they're missing by a mile. And over there is Ravia, my friend." His smile grew wistful for a moment. "I haven't seen her in a long time, but I'm sure she's out there. She always finds me in the end. And there's um... there's Raven beating up some bad guys. He's -"

"That looks nothing like me," Raven interrupted. "It looks like a spider having a seizure."

"It's not a spider!" Jett scowled fiercely, whirling to level a glare at the very rude flyer. "It's clearly a person!"

"A spider person, maybe."

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you do better!" Jett snatched the pencil off the table and shoved it at Raven. The flyer's eyes narrowed just a touch, considering.

The next thing Jett knew, the pencil was gone and Raven leaned over the table. He'd flipped the paper over and was drawing something with painstaking care. A look of intense focus settled upon his face, so much so that Jett half expected smoke to start pouring from Raven's ears.

The thought seemed hilarious, and Jett almost snickered. That was going to be the next thing he drew, he decided. A little Raven with smoke spewing out of his ears.

"There." Raven tossed the pencil onto the table. It hit the surface and rolled promptly over the edge of the table. Jett heard it clatter to the floor, then roll some more. Where it ended up was a mystery, one he didn't quite feel like solving because there were more important matters at hand. "Take a look at this stunning piece of art. You'll never see anything like it again."

Jett shifted his attention from the fallen pencil to the table, curiosity rising... and then stuttering to a halt. He blinked. Then his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"That's... that's no better than mine!"

In fact, it was probably worse than Jett's stick people. There was a circle and squiggly line and some random dots and lines throughout. It didn't even resemble a person, never mind any recognizable thing.

Jett leaned in, head tilting as he tried to make sense of it. "What's it even supposed to be?"

A pause. Then Raven said, sounding somewhat affronted: "It's me. Can't you tell?"

Jett couldn't help it. It was so utterly ridiculous that he giggled. The great and mighty Raven, defeated by a pencil. Laughter bubbled out of him and he let it, not caring that it was the only sound in the room. He clutched the table for support, then fell into the chair, chuckles vibrating through his entire body.

He reached out, picking up the paper and folding it in half. This was definitely going to be something he'd keep. He totally was going to show it off to everyone Raven knew.

"It seems that you have this well in hand," Seb murmured. "I'll take my leave so continue as planned."

"Huh?" Jett had completely forgotten Seb was in the room.

The bandaged man glanced at Raven, then gave Jett a small nod. "I must go, little crow. We'll meet again. Until then."

With that, he left. The door remained wide open, though Jett paid it little mind. He twisted in his chair, peering up at Raven. The bruise on the flyer's face stood out vividly, and he couldn't help but stare at it. It looked painful, and the idea of Raven getting hurt did not sit well with him. The sight of it made something ugly twist within his belly.

There was no way he got that from falling on a brick. He opened his mouth to say just that, but froze as Raven's violet gaze met his own. The air went still around them. A sense of dread began to fill the pit of Jett's stomach. Even though nothing changed in the flyer's posture or expression, Jett felt a frigid spark dance down his spine.

"It's been a while," Raven said softly, "hasn't it?"

"It has?" Jett's mouth went dry. All the moisture migrated to his palms in the form of a clammy sweat. He almost didn't dare ask. "For - for what?"

A frighteningly familiar curve lifted the corners of Raven's mouth. "How does a game of tag sound?"