GRAAAH HOLY CRAPOLI! I won't say everything that's been going on, but let's just say it's a lot. ;_; I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time (I feel like this is going to be a regular thing), but I hope you enjoy this next chapter! I was watching StarCrafts this afternoon and it re-kindled my passion. BTW, I'm taking a big risk by writing during NaNoWriMo season while I have another big project going on, so I hope you appreciate what I'm doing. Just saying ^w^ -haha

Again, here's a BIG THANK YOU TO *deep breath* Prevalent117, Arachnodon, Brekken18, Pyrothekid, Manix32, Epiclink8480, The Lillie, Snolf, Azarune, MechaKingGhidorah100, Xmanian, Troublefound17, Hejrobin1, Gcruz, Xade, Avatarange, FlamingB1rd, and XarexRaven! You guys are fantastic and I love you all each very muchly so! 3

-MozzyMoo

"Blegh!"

Reacher lifts up his massive, meaty arm, and I gulp for air, trying to squeeze myself out of the tight space between the window and Reacher's back, my arms wriggling spasmodically, feet shimmying out before the rest of my body. There's a nearly comical stretch to my body as I finally 'pop' free, staggering and trying to shake the compressed air out of my system.

"Eh, sorry, kiddo, that last bump threw me off." He shakes against me with billowing laughter, and I have to apologize, to myself, of course, for forcing myself to go on this crazy, idiotic, waste of time trip. I don't know if it's worth it. No, definitely not worth this.

"Don't worry, we're almost there." he chuckles, rubbing my hair, mussing it into my eyes. I claw at him, and he laughs again, infuriating my already agitated attitude. I, now that much wiser, decide to view the finale of our arduous journey through a window nearly five footsteps away. Reacher seems amused that I can't go any further. Since our departure from the trainstop near my homestead, my ire towards the old troll has only increased. Along with the number of passengers entering the city.

Another shudder through the trail car reverberates through my boots, and I grip the window port for stability. There, much better. I can see clearly out over the planet.

It often amazes me how...similar to New Haven it is. The landscape, dotted with staggered cabins and massive fields...a few whitewashed Dominion facilities hidden among the gentle curves and blue-ish green grasses and trees...fences...miles and miles of fences. Spotted wildlife, flocks of blue blob birds, the wind sending ripples of white through the grass.

Edges of black smog begin to encroach on the otherwise pure, pinkening sky, signalling an end to the free countryside and an entrance into the crowded buildings of Kerralim City. The train slows, and I glower at Reacher.

"Is this it?"

"Nope." He responds, yawning. "We've got one more before home. Just chill. If you need any room, you can come stand next to me again." I eye the ring of space around him, and how he towers over absolutely everyone in the train. They give him a wide berth, that's for sure. Probably because of the...smell? Ugliness? The muscles?

I got nothing.

The train grumbles to a halt, rocking back and forth. I see a larger crowd outside the port window, and the occupants within our car surge and waver, flowing out, fluxing in. I step back once towards Reacher, hating every moment of it. But I trust him a great deal more than any of the other men eyeing me.

It doesn't take long for everything to settle back into place.

The train lumbers forward again, and I begin to see an increase in the size and number of buildings. A few off road vehicles barrel over the hills, racing the speeding train, falling behind gradually. Roads begin to snake to life, much closer to the train, winding farther away, twining back and through and over us. A single, massive building looms, and, quite abruptly, we're inside a tunnel. I jump, and Reacher pats my shoulder.

"Come on. It's only been a week. It's not like you're a savage or anything."

"You saw me out in the woods, Reach." I joke, snarling for the comical joy of it, a rasp to my voice. "I've already become one with nature. I'm going to chow down on all your livestock."

"Hm, strange. I thought we were going to chow down on that." Reacher pokes my abdomen, digging into my shirt, and I smack back his hand, humor immediately drained.

"Hey, not funny!" I hiss, and he laughs.

"Sorry, my bad, I was trying to point at , y'know, whatever this is you caught." He corrects his finger, tapping the bundle of fur and damp meat wrapped together against my back.

"You were way off." I mutter, glowering again, turning to look out the window once more, watching as the number of black and brown silhouettes, each a person trying to find their way through the afternoon alleyways and dusky skyscrapers, begins to increase. Bars of black flicker by, cutting out the setting sun. It had taken the entire afternoon to get back here. It would take just as much to go home.

Joy.

Nearly too soon, the train's speed droops, we enter a tunnel, and I lose sight of the sun's half disclosed eye. The next sight beyond the black is, in fact, where I left. The train platform where I watched...Fredrick slam his face into a wall. Good times.

The claustrophobic landscape gains a lingering haze, smog, the scents and sweating bodies of so many people. Shouting can be heard through the thick glass, and snakes of flourescent ribbons slide against the port, substituting white sunlight for faceted rainbows displaying women and pigs alike.

The train stops. The only thing moving is the neverending river of people.

"Actually, y'know..." Reacher mumbles, scratching his chin. "There's someplace I want to show you. Quick, come on."

"Wait, wha'?" I call, but he's already shoving his way through to the nearest door. The crowd begins to sluggishly close back behind him, and I have to dash forward to keep up, through the crack the behemoth had made through the people. Too many people.

I barely squeeze through the closing portals in time, and I have to run to keep up with Reacher's massive saunter, which parts the bustling, murmuring crowds. My shoulder gets bumped to the side, and I'm given a quick memory of darker times. I see metal walkways, enclosed hallways, a very small residence, the mind numbing enormity of space...

I have to take a deep breath to remind myself that I'm not there anymore.

Instead, now, I'm somewhere dank, dirty, full of more people, more filth, higher, more intimidating structures-

"Hey! Keep up!" Reacher crows, using his massive paw to grip the back of my shirt, tugging me through the blaring waves of people. I cough, the taste of grungy clothing tainting the air on my tongue. Reacher again tugs me forward, an animal on a leash. "Come on, it closes soon. I know you're going to enjoy this."

I already want to go home.

"Here we are." he huffs, turning me sharply to the left. The train squeals by, shuddering on its track, its tail slithering away between the rivers of people. Reacher pushes me through an automatic door, ducking his head to enter.

The inside of this building is quieter than the raucous streets outside. A fire flares to life in the back, a man in a white chef's smock tossing bits and pieces of flaming meat into the air, the scent a punch to the nose. A gentle light, from lanterns placed on most of the tables, softens every edge and sharp angle within what I now recognize to be a restaurant.

"Aye!" Reacher shouts, and a few of the occupants at the tables turn their heads. "Looking for pretty boy! Where's he?!"

A dark woman in a waitress's skirt appears behind a curtain beside the chef, smiling. Her eyes flicker to me, judging me, and I subconsciously tuck some of my stringy black locks behind my ear. Her attention returns to Reacher.

"Nice to see you again! Would you like the regular today?"

"Naw, I've got a craving for Terra's stew tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"You got it chief. I'll go get Ricky now."

I give Reacher an amused snicker.

"It's only been a week, and you've already established a regular?"

He shrugs.

"What can I say-?"

"REALLY?!"

My heart stops. Time slows. I feel like I'm swimming through an invisible mass of syrup. I can barely breath. I turn. My eyes widen. The curtain flares open, a familiar smile and bright eyes revealing themselves bit by bit. His mouth opens too slowly. I try to turn. I try to run.

I'm not fast enough.

"SSSYYYNTHY-KIIINS!"

I barely touch the door.

Reacher grabs my ponytail.

I'm swept up into a hug, my life draining away agonizingly slow as I moan.

"Oh, it's been so long, why didn't you call me any sooner I've missed you so much my little partner in space what's wrong you don't look very happy?"

I give Fredrick a tired frown.

"How do you keep up so much energy?"

He kisses my cheek, and I hiss through my teeth.

"I have a 'glass-half-full' outlook on life, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Shut up and lemme go."

Someone clears their throat.

Fredrick turns, and I can finally breath.

"So, you're going to introduce me, right?" The waitress smiles carefully, holding out her hand to me. "Hello, my name's Flicker, and..." she casts an exasperated look his way. "I work with Ricky here."

I can barely reach out with my own hand.

"Cynthia, but...ugh, you can call me Synth. It's...cooler. And, unfortunately, I also know this lecher. Ah! Could you let go?!"

"I wouldn't be so clingy if you'd just called me." Fredrick's hands migrate around my waist, allowing me to turn and properly address his acquaintance. She laughs good naturally, grasping my hand with a solid grip. I give her a quick examination.

"Oh, I like your hair."

Extremely short, ice white, mussed boyishly, black streaks running through the mass in places. She grins, dark eyes alight.

"Thank you. You can thank Reacher's girl for it. She's running a pretty big business already. Who knew so many people living on a rock in the middle of space wanted a new 'do, am I right?"

I think I'm going to like this chick. Reacher steps up beside us all, towering and loud and bellowing.

"Speak of the devil, I've got to take Synth to be slaughtered in her name. Actually, could you cook this up? The special way? Just so there's a little kick to the stew?"

"Sure, I'll ask Grease." Fredrick finally pulls his arms away. "Wait, cook what-oh, man! I got blood all over my uniform!"

"Serves you right." I growl, shrugging the pack from my shoulders. Flicker giggles, taking the bundle of meat and fur from my arms. She walks us all over to the bar in front of the chef, gesturing me and Reacher to sit on the stools. She unwraps the bundle of velvet brown fur, laying it's stringy legs and long ears out carefully.

"Woah, nice bunyote! Where'd you find one this big?"

I slip off the stool, and Fredrick gasps, gently helping me up. I put my elbow on the counter, pointing at Flicker, then the flabby pack of fur.

"Wait...bunyote? They're...they've already got a name?"

Flicker flicks out a knife, twirling it on her knuckles, propping her hand against the counter.

"Well, yeah. We've been catching these things since we colonized the planet. Logic sense, right?"

I glare at Reacher. He raises his hands and raises his brows in a 'how was I supposed to know' kind of look.

I let my hand fall to the wooden counter, then my head. Reacher pats my back.

"Well hey, now you don't have to worry about that anymore, right?"

"Shut up."

"The mystery's over. Congrats, kid. Hey, Grease! An extra serving of spice to the meat, right?"

The cook grunts.

Fredrick hovers close, but someone calls from the other side of the room, requesting his assistance. He pats my back, leaning close.

"Gotta go. Just hold whatever questions you have, 'kay?"

I grunt, head still buried in my arm.

He leaves to attend the customers, and Flicker gives a long sigh.

"So. You're the Synth Ricky keeps talking about?"

I grunt.

"Thought so."

A high chattering fills the air, and I raise my eyes. Her hands are a dancing display of lights as her knife slices up the...bunyote. I'm amazed. Her crafting blade neatly and slickly separates the animal into several chunks, then slices, then bits and bits and bits. She twirls the knife with a flicker of white brilliance, tucking it into her apron and picking up the cutting board, handing it to the chef.

"Here you go. So, Synth, where exactly do you live?"

"Outskirts. Near the border of the Protoss lands." I shrug, watching Grease throw my hard work into a pan, setting it aflame. Flicker gives an interested 'ooh', pulling out another cutting board, another knife, a vegetable of some sort. She begins slicing it up efficiently, handing it over her shoulder to the chef, who grabs it, dumps it in.

"Wow, that's brave, considering the tensions we've been having."

My brows crinkle in concern.

"What?"

She shrugs, twirling the blade in her hand.

"Things have been uneasy since the first few years. Nothing outright, of course, but just...the tensions of being...different, I guess." She pulls out a rag, wiping up extra flecks of blood and green flakes. "We're not fighting or anything, it's just...we're a bit too close for comfort, I'd say. Hope things'll change now that the new Executor is here."

"New Executor?"

"Mhm. Protoss Leader? Just arrived a week ago. About the same time y'all did?"

I sit up gradually.

No.

I think of that one stiff. That one...Protoss. The one who was so uppity and made fun of my every movement. The one who forbade me from getting close. The superior, the asshole. Called...Executor.

NOOOOOO.

"Kid? You okay?"

"Meat's done." Grease growls, tossing a pack of paper over his shoulder. Flicker catches it, handling the grease quite well as she pulls out a plastic bag. Wraps it. Hands it to Reacher, who is still watching me with legitimate concern.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"I...I don't think things are going to get any better for any of us...if the Protoss I'm thinking of right now...is the one in charge."

Flicker's head bobs back in surprise.

"What, have you met him or something?"

Fredrick slides back into the stool beside me.

"What'd I miss?"

"Nothing, you big-"

I turn and look him in the eye. His bright, light, green blending gold, hazel eyes.

"...idiot."

He chuckles.

Wow.

A shower...a toothbrush...a brush...a slick waiter's outfit, minus the blood...has done wonders. The ponytail's a nice touch, too.

"So, how are you holding up without me?"

I shake my head, blurring out his strong, chiseled face and wide, white smile.

"Fine." I reply, icy cold, getting up in time with Reacher. "Nothing too big."

The troll laughs aloud, and I punch him in the shoulder.

"Ah, you should've seen her! Oh, she looked like she was in a proper mess! Almost like an animal! Crouched like this-" he growls like a beast, squatting against the ground. "Her hair bristling, her teef like dis." He snarls, walking low, jaws bared. I cover my eyes, hiding from the rest of the people watching him. Watching me.

"Really?" Fredrick asks.

"Oh yeah." Reacher stands, rubbing his nose, sniffing. "If I didn't show up, I think she would have gone full primal."

"Really." Fredrick's arm is warm around my shoulder, and I cover my eyes with both of my hands, shaking my head in disbelief and denial.

"That's not true-"

"I took pictures."

"WHAT?! WHEN?!" I yelp, and Fredrick holds me back gently from knocking the laughing monster's teeth out.

"Aye, aye, he's kidding, come on, look at his face. I'm sure nothing would have gotten past you." My partner chuckles, hugging my shoulders again, and I roll my eyes.

"Right. Right, I knew that." I growl, shaking out of his grip. "Okay, we've got to go. Let's go, let's go."

"Ey! Waiter! 'Nother refill!" someone shouts, and Fredrick shoots them a pair of finger guns.

"You got it!"

Reacher and I begin to retreat towards the door, allowing it to slide open into the dark, loud, crowds.

"Hey, Synth, wait!"

I turn, only to receive a kiss on the forehead.

"It was good seeing you again. Come back and visit, okay?" I punch his gut, and he 'whoof's, smiling weakly. "Guess I deserved that?"

"Bye, Fred." I hiss, jumping out into the blurred river of faces and voices. Reacher salutes the waving waiter, melting along with me. We flow and walk together, avoiding people and packs and bags and shoulders and signs and streets and life.

I've always hated cities.

I still want to go home.

I'm squashed between two men trying to flow in the opposite direction, and I puff my bangs out of my eyes, squinting, everyone heads and shoulders taller than me, military bred, built for the hustle and bustle.

"You sure we can't wait for the train?!" I shout over my shoulder, and Reacher hands me the bag of steaming meat. His hands grip my waist, and I shriek as he lifts me high into the air, massive paws and roiling, also military bred muscles rippling. He sets me on his shoulders, and I grip his dark, knotted hair in a panic.

"EY-Ey-EY! Watch it up there!" He shouts.

The world lurches, and suddenly, everything shifts. The faces look like stones in a creek bed, staring up at me. I glide through the lights and signs, ducking beneath a low hanging eve.

"Reach! Let me down!"

"It's easier this way! Let me know if there's anything coming up! And warn me when you see a big blue sign! We need to turn down the alley before Titon's Stop!"

I bow down low, leveling with his face.

"You can see just fine!"

"I didn't want to lose you, to be honest. You're so short, someone might have mistaken you for a little kid and taken you. I'm doing you a favor, midget."

"Stinky old giant!"

"Microscopic greasy animal!"

"Oh yeah, well...you..." I've got nothing. So I elbow him in the side of the face. And he just laughs.

"Think of it this way! Less walking for you!"

"Hm." I grunt, settling my chin on his mop of hair, hating it all the while.

I watch the neon signs pass. I listen to the murmuring of a thousand voices, the gentle rocking of my friend's saunter beneath me. The way the darkness itself is soothing, now that I'm not immersed within it. My eyelids droop, and I focus on a single thing.

Blue. The blue sign. Look for the blue sign.

The train rushes by, screeching in the opposite direction, and I startle from my partial slumber.

"Is it coming up?!" He shouts, and I shake my head.

"Not that I can see! Sorry!"

"That's okay! I'm still getting used to the area myself-"

There's something wrong.

The crowds ahead are stopping and slowing. I sit up higher on Reacher's shoulders, and he looks up at me.

"What's up?"

"Dunno, that's what I'm trying to-"

I see the problem. I see what's making them pause. I see what they're parting around. I see what's causing the shifting eyes. The nervous, fearful shuffling.

I see blue. And gold.

"Reacher, hold up." I whisper, and he slows a bit, trying to see over the heads. It isn't much trouble, but he can't see as far, not as high as I am. "It's...Protoss."

The towering aliens are majestic. They stand, they stride in strict contrast to the dark filth they're surrounded by. Clean cut, practically glowing in the dim lighting and flashing colors of humanity. Those they pass by duck down and watch in reverent silence, allowing them to walk by without so much as a 'you're welcome' or prideful gesture. Just...staring.

We tread closer, and I stretch forward over Reacher's head, eyes wide, wondrous.

There's three of them. Heavily armored in gold, helmets arching high over their crests and short, corded hair swaying gently as they clomp through the streets. Two have their faces partially covered by gentle blue veils, their darker shaded eyes flickering and darting like Flicker's knives. Watching anyone who comes too close.

The head of the party has his chest puffed, distended legs stretching and placing themselves heavily against the stone of the walkways, authoritatively digging his toes into the ground, purposeful in his gait. An alpha among lesser animals.

All at once, they're beside us. Reacher stops, struck with amazement. All three look up at me skeptically, faces unreadable, glowing, snapping azure eyes and lowered brows their only noticeable movement and betrayal to their emotions.

I bashfully divert my gaze.

Sorry.

They stop abruptly as one, armor clanging and muscles tensing, steely blue skin painted all the colors of the storefronts nearby. The traffic stops with them. Few are willing to sneak past, their intimidating structures taking up most of the traveling space.

Reacher takes a few steps back, shocked.

All three Protoss squint up at me, lightning sparking within their sky blue depths. The leader steps forward, crown of gold slightly taller than Reacher. I lean back slightly, Reacher leans back slightly, and we nearly topple backwards into the train tracks.

The echoing slither is a billion times stronger, now that we're only seperated by a few feet.

You hold psychic abilities, Terran?

I lump bobs in my throat.

Y-yeah?

Hm.

He bows his head slightly, holding his hand over his chest plate.

Well met.

S-same, dude.

I feel a slithering chuckle slide up my back, and all three of their gazes uplift with humor. The aliens proceed forward, conversation as fleeting as a flock of sparrows. The crowd stares at them as they continue on, bangles and gold and blue embellishments swaying and melting into the darkness of the city.

All eyes turn to me.

I grip Reacher's jaw, and he glances up at me again.

"What just happened?"

"I...think I just called a Protoss...a dude?"

"We're back!"

Reacher tosses me off of his back.

I land with a crash on the wooden floorboards of his place.

"It's about time! These animals were near impossible!"

I'm sad to find that we haven't left the humdrum bustling life of the city. I pick myself up, wincing and grunting as I straighten my back with a well seasoned CRACK. I find another crowd. Another group of loudmouthed, partying people.

Terra bustles behind a bar, her violently violet hair spiked and spilling over a handkerchief. Patrons are lined all along the counter, asking for drinks and food, and she flies from one end of the room to the other, a force of nature to be reckoned with.

Reacher squeezes in beside her, and she slows, looking through the crowd, catching a glimpse of me.

"Hey, short stack! Over here!"

I force my way through two staggering men, who sing some form of Dominion shanty, slurring out the glory days of the great war. Terra gestures me onto an open stool, turning to pour me a mug of beer. Reacher sets the greasy bag of...bunyote meat down on a side panel.

"Hey, Ter, I got you some of Grease's meat."

"Oh, thank God. I've been needin' some of that." she groans, sliding the mug down a ways, to be caught by an open hand, taking the credits given, sliding them into her bulging apron pockets. She opens the meat bag, smiling satisfactory, and someone laughs.

"Yo' hubby be sweet on his li'l wife!"

Her smile is gone. She picks up a glass, chucking it into the waving crowd, and the voice screeches.

"I'M NOT HIS WIFE!" She shouts defiantly, turning to me with a gentle smile. "So, how are you?"

I shake my head, setting it down on the counter.

"Sick."

"Oh. Need some stim?"

"No. There's just...too much going on."

"Ah. I see. Reacher, we're closing early. Synth, go ahead and head upstairs to the apartment, the stairway is just behind that door...yeap, go right ahead while we clear out the joint. ALRIGHT YOU SLOBBERING MUTTS! WE'RE CLOSING UP SHOP FOR TONIGHT! DON'T GIMME ANY OF THAT! Oh, shower's the first door on the right."

"You trying to imply something?"

"Honey, you're a mess. Go clean up."

I duck whining, open mouths, sliding along the wall, gripping a doorknob and forcing myself in. The stairwell is gently lit by a purple lantern, and I climb the stone steps gingerly. I pause at the top of the steps. There's carpet.

I slip off my boots. And socks. My feet are still disgusting. Oh well.

I open the door to their pad.

The inside is nice. A little plain, but I can see some of Terra's handiwork in a few of the lanterns and slashing patterns on the walls. The entire home carries an old black and white schema, splashes of purple making distinct changes in the portrait. I set my shoes to the side, uncomfortable in the silence.

The carpet tickles my toes as I gingerly step into the closest door on the right. The yellow tiles along the walls make my head spin, and I wrinkle my face in disgust. It looks like they haven't quite gotten around to renovating this yet.

I pull the filthy cloth from my skin. My old t-shirt...worn four days in a row now, needs to beliterally peeled from my arms. Animal blood and dirt drift from my bare arms, and I feel a wave of embarrassment. I remember...Fredrick had...hugged me.

I smell awful.

I turn on the shower, removing the rest of the grungy clothing from my body. As the water heats up, I reach out with my hand, feeling the warmth dash through me like a lightning bolt.

I watch in fascination as the first drops impact and send rivulets of black and red and brown down my forearm, dripping from my elbow.

I jump in before I have time to think. The water scalds my skin, and I shriek, flipping the knob in the opposite direction. Ice bites, and I dance in place, hurting, trying to adjust it, shivering violently. It takes a while to balance out the fire and snow, and then...I simply relax.

The door opens, and I see Terra's silhouette through the curtain. She leans down, picking up my clothes.

"I have an extra pair of pajamas for you! They're on the sink, okay? Shampoo and conditioner-"

"I've got it! Thanks, I'll be quick!" I shout over the rushing water, and she leaves.

I run my hands through my hair. Pull them back, the faintest traces of dirt running down my arms. I vigorously rinse out the knotted, disgusting locks, combing through the dark mass, fingers catching every other second. I try to put in shampoo. It helps a bit, but it's all still disgusting.

I wash and rinse. I put in the conditioner, the chemical scents of flowers much unlike the actual thing. Close enough, I suppose. I bend down and scrub my feet, revealing pink, chaffed skin beneath layers of mud and running through fields with no protection to my toes.

It's only been a week.

It takes forever for me to feel like an actual human being again.

And once I do, the water has run gradually cold. I flip it off, stepping out, grabbing the towels laid out, rubbing down and drying up my skin. Who knew it wasn't as tan as I thought it was? The pajamas Terra had given me feel light and airy, clean and pure against my skin, and I hug myself, feeling at home.

I step out to a gorgeous smell. Meat sizzles and crackles loudly, and I hear Reacher relating the story of my discovery to his partner once more. I step to the right, entering a tiled kitchen. Reacher's massive bulk is settled atop the dining table, and Terra stands beside the stove, ignoring him and placing the bits and pieces of meat into a large pot.

"So, she holds the gun to my face, and I have to-oh, hey kid. Thanks for taking up all the hot water. Sure going to enjoy it tonight."

"You're welcome." I yawn. "Terra, do you have a brush?"

"Yeah, in my bedroom. That's the one across the living room."

"I really like your house." I call as I walk through the carpeted main room, and she 'uh-huh's, partially paying attention as Reacher continues to ramble onward. I enter the spacious adjoining room, searching around the king-sized bed, finding the item on an end table beside the closet. I run the bristles through my hair, wincing as it tugs and pulls.

I reenter the kitchen, still trying to comb out the first part of hair, beside my face. Terra gives me a diminutive laugh.

"Wannanother trim?" she laughs, taking a ladle and drinking straight from the bubbling stew. "Gah, shit." She coughs as it burns her, sticking out her tongue and and wiping her mouth. Reacher hops up immediately , patting her back.

"Serves you right." he hums, and she turns around to punch his face.

I sit down at the table, dejectedly tossing the brush to the surface.

"I'm thinking a cut, actually. Having this much hair is going to be a nuisance." I grumble, and Terra nods.

"Alright then. Whatever you-REACHER! Knock it off!"

I lay my head down on the table, sighing heavily, closing my eyes, yawning heavily. The scents of warmth and cleanliness edge my nostrils, drugging my mind, causing it to fuzz over as I notice...how comfortable this chair is...compared to my sleeping bag...back...home.

Reacher and Terra turn to see me. Asleep.

They smile, shaking their heads.

I latch onto Reacher like I used to latch onto my Papa as he picks me up.

"Clingy little thing, huh?"

"Shut up, she's not that little. Ah. Don't comment."

"This is a nuisance. Can't she walk on her own?"

"Sh, she's exhausted, just put her on the couch."

The couch is nicer than the chair. The blanket is nicer than my sleeping bag. The room is nicer than my tent.

But the air isn't as open here. The space isn't as wide, and it isn't mine. And the sky is reduced to a single, squarish block, filled with more bricks than stars.

I still want to go home.

Kaldarax: Executor. Executor. Executor. Executor.

Executor: T-T...

Kal: ExecutorExecutorExecutorExecutorExec-

Executor: What.

Kal: 0-0...

Executor: T^T...

Kal:...can we go see-

Executor: NO.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I missed anyone's name (I'm sorry, I tried to triple-check), please let me know so I can fix it immediately :))