Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-37981206-20190723213858/@comment-34572969-20200215104421

And here we are? Dear gods, it's been so long, and writing this made me feel so nostalgic lmao. Hope you enjoy!

Katina

Flame's usual routine of waking me up way too early was becoming a lot more familiar now, though I didn't exactly expect to be awoken by his claws prodding at my eyelids and his tail thumping on my chest. I waved him off, stretching out my arms and shuffling upright to see what the little Terror wanted.

"Alright, alright, I'm up, jeez," I murmured, rubbing the fatigue out of my eyes. "What's going on this time?"

Flame chirped at me, sticking out his jaw to show off a small piece of paper with some writing written neatly onto it. I gently took the note away as Flame continued cooing and trilling in concern.

Deastre Kantia, I read through half-lidded eyes. Then immediately shook my head to get rid of the rest of my sleepiness. Fatigue was making me feel dyslexic.

I looked at the note again.

Dearest Katina,

Ten miles west of your base, there is small village with very few residents.

In the middle of the village, there is an abandoned hut marked with a dark grey pole.

''Fly there and meet me in the hut. Your dragon will wait outside and you will come unarmed and without backup.''

''Meet me at noon. If I see that you have any of your Guardians with you or any witnesses, I have no problem harming any of them or their dragons.''

You know who this is.

Naturally, as any good daughter would do, I did indeed recognize who it was, and I immediately crumpled up the note and tossed it to Flame for him to play with (and knowing him, eventually incinerate). I fell back into my bed as a sort of act of defiance. Staring up at the ceiling, I began contemplating my choices.

Either I met up with him and had to listen to him monologuing with that stupid smirk on his face whilst he threatened to kill me and my friends, or alternatively stay at the base and maybe carry out a couple of missions.

I buried my face into the pillow. There was absolutely no way I was going back out to meet up with that traitor again. Never, ever, ever...

Less than a minute later, I stuck my head into Kate's hut, glad to see that she was already awake.

"Hey, is it okay if I borrow Devil for a bit?"

My father wasted no time on pleasantries as I entered the creaking hut, hardening my gaze as my eyes locked with his brown ones.

"You caught me on a bad day, last time we interacted," he said, idly twirling a pencil in his fingers. I said nothing, only playing with a frayed string from the bottom of my shirt to keep my hands busy.

My father hummed, tucking the pencil away in his pocket. "Take off your belt, upturn your pockets, hold out your arms and turn around. I need to check whether or not you kept my requests."

Before I even had a chance to question anything, I was already being turned around and patted down, much to my displeasure as I upturned my pockets and proved that I didn't have any weapons on me.

Once I had turned back around, I scanned over my father's body. Tight clothing and no pockets or weapon sheaths; no folds of fabric or places to hide any weapons.

At that moment, I vaguely recalled something I'd heard before: Sweet words can be more dangerous than hidden daggers.

''Be careful. Don't trust a word he says until you know it's true.''

"So, I suppose it's time we discuss our..." he cleared his throat, "blatantly differing views on dragons."

"You're not going to change, and neither am I," I said, refusing to maintain eye contact. "Change the subject."

He sighed, almost longingly if I didn't know any better. "Kat, you're my daughter, and you know that I love you-"

"There's no time for love on the battlefield," I snapped, folding my arms. "You should know better than anyone. And it's because of people like you that I know that."

My father's voice piped up. "You don't love me?"

"I did," I admitted. "When I thought you were a good person that didn't kill dragons for a living."

"I don't kill anything," he said calmly. "I simply trap them and make sure that they don't pose a hazard to the rest of us."

"You say that as if you're not a hazard." I turned to him, locking our gazes. "Because of you, my friends have been put into hospital, kidnapped, almost killed, and you still think that you're the hero?!"

"And you don't?" he challenged. For just a fraction of a second, I faltered. I had no comeback. No retort. No argument against that.

My father took that moment of weakness and took his chance. "You've kept members of our armies as prisoners. You've killed members of our society- with Changewing acid, nonetheless. You've hospitalized hundreds of us-"

"And you've killed thousands of them!" I shouted back, pointing outside to where Devil and my father's Deathsong stood, awaiting their owners.

"They're a menace to society," my father said, stomping his foot on the ground for emphasis. "Dragons left the Overworld for a reason. We are simply acting upon it."

"You're a part of the reason," I snarled. I dropped my arms, curling my hands into fists and digging my fingernails into my palm to keep myself grounded. "Change the subject," I barked.

"We are not leaving this subject untouched. Kat, everything I ever did was for you-"

"Change. The. Subject," I hissed. My father paused, then nodded accordingly.

"Very well," he muttered disappointedly. "The weather's been nice lately, hasn't it?"

"I prefer the cold."

"How's Tiger?"

"I let him back into the forest."

"And your mother?"

"Most likely grieving. She still thinks you're dead."

A pause. A breath. And then, "Don't tell her differently."

"Because?"

"I love you both.  I don't want her to get hurt because of me, not again."

"You left her and your only daughter."

"It was for the best."

"Next question."

"Dated any nice boys recently?"

I hesitated. "I don't swing that way."

A pause. Not one of anger or surprise, only mild confusion.

"When did you figure that out?"

"Two years ago, when you were still absent from my life."

A breath, almost like a sigh. "Well it was your birthday recently, wasn't it? Don't think that I forgot. You're seventeen now. Did you do anything nice?"

"Mum couldn't visit me. I was in battle. People like you are the reason that the fate of the Hidden World is put into the hands of teenagers."

My father looked up at me, his gaze uncharacteristically soft. It unnerved me.

"We do want peace, you know," he said, softly, treading softly on the subject. "Or at least, I do. That's the reason we choose to spend our lives eradicating the problem. You cannot blame the actions of one person on an entire society."

I said nothing, only stared at the ground with every muscle tensed, as though we were on a battlefield. We were, in a way. There was blood on both of our hands from the opposing side, and neither of us were sorry for it. We were just two soldiers on the front lines, watching silently in our unspoken truce as the battle raged on behind us.

I huffed. "I know. But it doesn't mean that I agree with what you're doing." My shoulders sagged as I looked at him. "We're not on the same side and we never will be. You being my father won't change any of that."

He stared at me blankly, but still analytical. His eyes seemed to look like they were a figuring out the best way to take me down in combat.

"Very well, then," he decided, disappointment laced into his voice. "Go back to your base, with all of your friends. But please, at least try to respect where I'm coming from."

"I already do. I just don't agree." I turned my back to him, latching onto the doorknob and taking a couple of breaths. "We probably shouldn't do this again."

"No promises."

At that, I turned the knob and pulled the door open, stepping out onto the grass and whistling for Devil. He bounded over to me, his tongue lolling out like a dog and bouncing about on the spot, as if ready to pounce on an unsuspecting piece of prey. Or, in this case, a very grumpy human.

"Cut it out, I'm not in the mood," I snapped. Devil tilted his head, nudging my hand tentatively. I pulled it away, walking to the dragon's side and preparing to mount.

"Let's just go home," I muttered, pulling myself onto his back and putting on my mask. The Woolly Howl still refused to out on a saddle, much to my displeasure. Devil made no protests against the movement, unlike any other time I had tried riding him. We took off into the bleak mid-day sky, counting the clouds as I wiped he tears away from my eyes.

I missed him.

And I hated myself for it.

I mean, why would I miss him? He was a manipulative jerk, he had abused Tiger all that time, he was probably abusing his new Deathsong and almost definitely using her to lure in new dragons.

Poor thing. She was probably being chained up and beaten.

All these thoughts were racing through my head, somehow unhindered by the fact that I was bursting through doors like a member of a S.W.A.T. team with the rest of the Guardians in search of victims from a fire.

I waved away smoke and kept a sleeve over my mouth to make sure that I wasn't breathing in any smoke. Beside me, Flame weaved in and out between wooden support beams and debris, calling out for any victims.

"Hello?" I shouted, squinting against the grey mist. "Anybody here? We're Guardians, we're here to help!"

A few beats of silence. And then, "We're in here!"

The voice was muffled, most likely hidden behind several walls and layers of debris. Flame perked up at the sound, latching onto a nearby door and scratching at it. I pounded on the wood, charred and blackened with the fire.

"Anyone in there?" I called out, cringing at the ashes that adorned my fist. A distorted reply came from through the door, and I backed away and rubbed my shoulder.

"Ugh, this is gonna hurt so much," I muttered, charging towards it and breaking it open.

I fell onto my back, my head slamming onto the floorboards below. I quickly scrambled to my feet, muttering in disdain to myself as I adjusted my kransen and Flame hovered above me, head tilted in concern.

"Real charming," I heard a voice mutter. Male, about eleven or twelve years old. Another female voice, the one I had heard earlier, quickly shushed him.

"Oi, I'm the one saving your butts up here," I said, turning towards the voices. I bent down  and began pulling away the wood, with Flame fanning away dust and ash.

"Thanks," I muttered to him, pulling away the last wooden beam to reveal two kids bundled together. They both shared the same tanned skin and black hair; a girl, probably about twleve, and her younger brother.

"You guys okay?" I panted, holding out my hand for the girl to take. She gladly grabbed it and pulled out her brother as well, taking a couple of moments to regain their breath.

"Yes... thank you," the girl muttered. Her brother nodded in agreement, then looks down to the floor where a number of charred doll-like figures lay.

"Aww, my Mythomagic figurines!" he whined.

His sister tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we can buy you some more."

I cleared my throat. "'Scuse, but... uh..."

I gestured to her, silently asking for her and her brother's names.

"Oh, uh Bianca. And my brother, Nico."

I nodded. "You and Nico should get out of here, before the house collapses," I said, briefly recalling a moment when the Trials were still going on and I had almost gotten myself trapped in the same situation.

The pair nodded, then left accordingly.

I continued around multiple houses, finding few people, thankfully enough. At least walking around the burnt mess took my mind off things, if only temporarily. Well, that was until...

"Tina!" a voice called out. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Nick? What are you doing here?" I asked, sounding a lot more accusatory than I had intended.

Nick seemed barely fazed. His Timberjack stood just a few yards behind him, watching intently as Nick ran over to me.

"Heard there was a fire, and that you guys were checking it out. Thought I should pay a visit, since I happened to be flying by." He nodded to his dragon, grinning.

I stared silently for a while, scanning over his face. "...oh no."

"What?"

"That smile. You only ever use that smile when you have bad news."

"What? No I don't-!"

"Your shoulders are tensed and the corner of your lip is twitching. I know you're lying."

Nick huffed. "Oh, we're really playing the deduction game right now? Fine." He looked me over, eyeing my every movement. I tried staying neutral, not letting anything give away how I was feeling.

We locked eyes. "You're doing that thing where you play around with your sleeve, and you only ever do that when you're nervous or in a bad mood. When you're nervous, you snap, so that can't be it. Most of the time when you're in a bad mood it's because of someone close to you. None of the Guardians seem to be physically hurt, I haven't been around for a while and your mum hasn't visited you. So, that must mean..."

I pointed an accusatory finger at me, grinning victoriously. "You had a meeting with your dad and it ended sour!"

I paused for a moment, processing the information. Nick's electric blue eyes shone with anticipation, awaiting a reply.

At last my shoulder sagged. "Okay, fine. You win."

He pumped his fist into the air in celebration as I rolled my eyes fondly. "So, what's the word?"

Nick handed me a TMail, held together by a seal with no logo on it.

"Tip off. A couple of Changewings are having a short migration to a warmer forest, and some Harns are planning to take them down. It was supposed to be a secret operation, dunno who tipped them off."

I unfolded the scroll, scanning over the hastily-written words and taking in the information. It was just a couple days away, no specified time.

"I recognize that handwriting," I muttered. It wasn't my father's handwriting, for sure. At the bottom, it was even signed. ~J.B. I didn't recognized the signature, but the initials were familiar enough to me.

"We have to tell the others," I told Nick, scanning over the signature one last time before bunching it up and stuffing it inside my bag.

Nick nodded, and rushed off to find the rest of the Guardians. I stayed put for a couple of moments, thinking about who could have tipped of the Harns. My thoughts drifted back to the initials at the bottom of the scroll as I clutched the strap of my bag.

He hated me.

Why would he tell anyone about the operation?

Did it have something to do with his parents?

J.B.

Jackson Bennett.

Jack.