"What the hell!?" A young male shouted from his bunk-bed. An equally pissed off female voice came from another room.

"YEAH! And they're meeting today." She told him from her room, groaning as she fell back against her bed.

"Are you sure you didn't just mishear it? I mean, why would they make such a weird team? Something has to be up." He added, shaking his head even though she couldn't see him from his room.

The girl stood up and walked over to her door to stare at her friend through the hallway. "Alec, why would the Harp make such a large team? I mean, seven people? Most teams consist of four members. Why are they special? Just because Shae Arca is a big name..."

"You're just jealous because the people in her team are such outcasts. I mean... I've even heard they're assigning new people to the team."

"...New people?"

"Yep, he just joined from what I've heard."

"Sure, why not. Let's just break ALL the fucking rules."

The female threw up her hands in exasperation and stormed back to her room, not wanting to look at the pile of paperwork piling up on her desk.

---

Meanwhile...

Along the corridors of ECHO's airship, four pairs of feet walked in tandem, heading towards the main meeting room. Three pairs of black boots surrounded one single pair of white boots as they marched their way in.

"Harp, they should be arriving any minute now. one of the men dressed in black stated, motioning for the figure in white to step forward and take a seat at the conference table. The figure simply nodded and took the seat, silent.

"...Have you heard anything more about the Lost?"

"Only what you've already heard, Harp." a female voice spoke out, bowing slightly as she spoke. The figure simply nodded once again, sighing. It's voice was hollow and empty, as if any amount of emotion had been drained from it.

---

On the other end of the ship...

"OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. I'M LATE!" A small voice rang out as Isabelline Carter bolted to a sitting position on her bed, her hair bunched up and tangled.

"Welcome to the living..." Her bunkmate returned cooly, not looking up from her book. Her bunkmate was a year older than her and had been at ECHO for a shorter amount of time. Isa blinked for a moment, staring down at her, Salena was her name. She was tall, thin, and very pretty, something you honestly wouldn't expect for a member of ECHO, but she was pretty good. Better than Isa, anyway.

Quickly, Isa threw herself from the top bunk, losing her balance as usual and falling to the floor in a heap of bruises and cuts. Salena ignored her and continued reading, something about the history of Barallia. Isa groaned for a few minutes and slowly got up.

Wait.. I'm... There was someth-

"I'M LATE!" She shouted again, remembering and rushed over to her closet, her wings knocking things over in the process. For such a large person, relatively speaking, they'd given her such a small room... It was terrible.

"Yep, heard you the first time." Another emotionless remark.

Isa went on, pulling on her clothes carefully, sliding her wings through the slits. When she was finished, she stood before her bunkmate and grinned. "How do I look?" She asked. Isa had on a pair of jeans, a khaki colored shirt with a jean coat over it and black boots. Her hair was tied up in a bun to hide the knots, which still showed in the messy bun, and her eyes had globs of what she called 'sleepers' in them.

Without looking up from her book again, Salena answered, "Tardy."

"OH SHIT!" Isa shouted before racing off down the halls towards the meeting room.

Sometimes there were days when Xander Zahir wondered whether he was fit to be a good man in general. Sometimes he wondered if he was fit to be a good warrior. And sometimes he wondered what kind of warrior he would end up being.

Sometimes he would wonder if he would use his large blade to shield the vulnerable, tanking damage and focusing on extending the endurance of his comrades and himself endlessly without giving into a last breath. Sometimes he would wonder if he would use his large blade to prioritize destruction of opposing forces, striking the hearts of foes with merciless slashes directed towards the source of inspiration within the enemy. Sometimes he would wonder if he could become both at once and play two roles at once.

Sometimes he wondered why he found himself sleeping on the ground. The particular thought was for another time, however.

Sporting an unmistakably spiky hairstyle and a large sword on his back, Xander had received various reactions from people around him. Some called the attitude he held in the public to be "edgy as fuck, yo," and some simply disliked his face. And admittedly, he found his face to be stupid enough to betray him so many times. He had grown so used to carrying an idle expression that it now delivered a single message: "I don't know what I'm doing but I think I'm better than everyone."

Which, while he wanted it to be the case, was definitely not true.

I'm going to be a real man, Xander thought as he brushed his teeth furiously. I'm going to become the realest of reals! Die, bacteria!

After brushing his teeth, the man washed his toothbrush and put it aside before washing his face. Die, dust! He thought as he washed the shit out of his face.

He also wanted to shave, but much to his aggravation, his genes refused to let him sprout out facial hair. So he pretended to shave. Realizing that he had more important things to do, the swordsman took a deep breath and remained still in front of the sink. He relaxed himself.

At that moment, his roommate opened the door to the bathroom.

"Holy shit, that's the edgiest thing I've ever seen."

"..."

Xander waited for the bald guy to close the door and leave him alone.

---

Today's a big day, Xander thought as he left his room.

Despite being plentifully new to ECHO, the blond had been directly ordered to join... something... under higher orders. He had no idea what to expect, but he heard that there could be some "war celebrities" that would join it as well. Thankfully, he did not seem to be the newest of members to the unknown group, as someone who literally joined the other day got sucked into the ordeal as well.

I don't know what today is, but I can tell it's going to be a big day.

He calmly walked down the hallways. Maintaining a stern and cold expression of idleness, the swordsman focused on keeping his posture straight. When he was a teenager, he had the tendency to walk in the laziest way possible. His father called him a walking scarecrow, and his mother lightly poked fun at him by calling him a gangster. What a light joke, right?

...Right.

His moment of peace ended as soon as he bumped into the smallest girl he had met ever since he joined ECHO.

Oh fuck.

---

As soon as he bumped into the small girl right when he tried to turn a corner, she fell on her delicate behind and dropped a box of Resonants. Though he decided not to stare at her blatantly, he did find her tiny physique to be somewhat hard of him to not pick her up as if she were a kid.

Then again she had a developed body, so she was probably going to be heavy.

"..."

The girl did not say anything as she remained still for a second.

And during this second, Xander's mind went through a process of elimination to come up with a good way to respond.



So right now, I have the options to:

- FIGHT
- SCOLD
- IGNORE
- SMILE
- SMACK DAT BOOTY

...

Xander legitimately wondered what the last option would bring up, but since he did not have a death wish, he chose not to ever use it.

If I fight her for bumping into me, that would label me as a bad guy. It's kind of aggravating, but I'll have to press on and not fight her. If I smile, she'd wonder why the hell I'd smile at her right after bumping into her, therefore risking the possibility of making her see me as a megaton fuckboy with no other hobby aside from bullying. And I haven't smiled to anyone but myself in my last month here, so it'd probably be scary for me to suddenly smile like that one clown I saw visit my town.

If I smack that... never mind.

If I flatout ignore her, then that'd just worsen the small amount of rumors that apparently spread even to my roommate. I can't just ignore her, especially if that's the consequence of doing so. And if I smack that-

I need to stop thinking like a pirate.

If I scold her... I don't know. Maybe I should scold her?

As the girl got up, the swordsman frantically thought while perfectly maintaining his blank look, Dammit, I don't know if I should scold her for walking into me because I technically turned the corner too quickly. Why do I only have five options in my process of elimination?!

Remaining still, Xander watched the girl picked up the box of Resonants like it was nothing. "Oh, you're the new recruit," she said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I apologize for being careless, especially as someone who's been here for three whole years!"

...

...

...

...

...

wat

Giving him a small bow, the woman who turned out to be a long-time recruit walked past him. Xander turned back to the hallway and walked again.

...

...

...Well, that's one way to do the process of elimination.

---

With the sudden ordeal out of the way, the swordsman continued his trip to the meeting room. He had everything intact: his sword was on his back, his hair was on point, and he had one of his best "serious faces" on. At this rate, it seemed as if the day would go by smoothly for him like he terribly hoped for it to do so.

He arrived at the meeting room pretty early. With nothing else to do, he entered the meeting room.

"Are. You. Fucking. Kidding Me?!" He walked in, seeing Vern on the edge of his bed. The man was still carving away delicately at the small fragment of modelling equipment he had left in his hand. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for that meeting that's like...in... He looked for a clock, trying to make himself sound more intelligent towards his room-mate. Being unsuccessful, he continued onwards. "In....soon...you are still not fully ready and...You are still fucking making decorations?!" At this point, Vern looked up, giving his slightly superior comrade a half grin.

"You know I've been working hard on this one, Grant...let me have my fun at least..." Grant looked at the bin, seeing it filled with countless blocks of failed-attempts at the very same model he was making now. They looked hardly different, yet Vern's eyes they were abominations waiting to be burnt.

"I can...see you've tried a lot." Grant would chuckle slightly, with his deep and monotone grunt. "So what's it this time? Another bow? Maybe a swordsmen? Is it th-"

"Poloa." Vern interrupted him kindly, giving another grin before looking back at his nearly complete carving. It was the look of an elderly woman, and possessed many features of rural-clothing and looks. "You remember Poloa, right? She was that nearly ancient lady that kept selling strange herbs and spices to anyone lucky enough to go by her. Sometimes she'd tell a tale of the Lost, sometimes of the Feren...sometimes of the Origins of man itself...Pretty odd, for my liking." Grant was one of the few people that Vern had actually gotten to know extremely well. They had only fought beside one another for so little time, Vern using most of his service time with Weapons maintenance and design. However, these two had formed some sort of small bond, Vern actually being the one who had tweaked the thin sword of Grant. The two talked normally amongst each other, as if life-long friends, which was rather a strange sight if Vern was more famous than he really wasn't. Vern had quite a difficult time having conversations that involved such friendly Banter between one another.

"You mean Poloa the Witch? God I loved that woman..." This led to Vern's face having a smile creep in an ascending motion. He looked back up towards his partner and burst out laughing, right after he stated his long-waited joke.

"I see you prefer the more...Mature-Type." He continued to chuckle, before standing up.

Vern shuffled his way towards the nearest lighting, holding the carved object in the air. He would scrutinize the markings he had made overtime, looking to and fro at every hair line he had made. The eyes were of a natural shape, though they were previously messed up in the other attempts. Braids on the rear of the handheld ornament were rather iffy for what Vern thought, yet were most likely good in other people's eyes. It was no wonder that no one had ever really admired these other than those on his home island...well...who aren't exactly in existence anymore. He smiled slightly as he finally appreciated what he had carved. "Such smoothness in this one. I should surely be proud to call this my own work, Grant. You should try this too; I'm a bit tired of having no one who shares any interests in my ornaments and how they are made..."

"Maybe because, funnily enough...it's boring?" Grant called from underneath his pillow. He'd been up all night talking to some random girl that he'd been fantasising over for nearly a year now. Rather annoying, yet Vern was on par with his unfortunately unlike-able hobby. "You should probably get the rest of your fucking gear on and get a move on, you cheeky sod!" Him saying this, Vern jumped back into attention, rummaging around the room quickly to find some stuff to take with him. He wanted to look presentable, and that meant his hunter-attire. He fitted on a Green-Short sleeved Shirt, one that was dotted with buttons and made from a rather thin material [The one's you'd find on chequered shirts], a rough pair of loose sage trousers, the utility one-strap harness of a muddy colour and a forest coloured, hooded cape that bared the family's insignia upon it. Vern began to open his pockets on the Utility harness, packing the decoration into the biggest. Leaving it hear alone at this early in its life is a dangerous move, especially with Grant and his clumsy needs lurking around. Opening the door, he looked behind him, his already on footwear, lined with gripping-jagged linings on the under-face, and headed out the door. As he closed it behind him, he felt a sudden thrust of anxiety, knowing that this meeting could go horribly wrong on the behalf of confidence. This could be a major shift in his career, and the people he comes across might hate him forever and ever....well...shit.

"Why so fast?"

"Hm?" Isa mumbled, comically nonchalant as she skidded to a halt and turned to face the voice that had seemed to be speaking to her. It took her a moment to process the tall female feren before her and the instrument in her hand, but when she did, she nearly lost her shit. Her face went pale for a moment as she simply stared at Sylvia Sterling.

"S-Syl-Sylvia... St-STERLING!" She shouted, her eyes growing wide. "I'm sorry, I was just... this was... I'm not... I'm sorry!" She mumbled, bowing deeply in apologize. As she did so, her wings flopped around her, hanging to the floor in a lump of embarrassed bird feren.

I'm dead.

So dead.

Like... if I were a corpse I wouldn't be this dead.

Wait, that didn't make sense...

Speaking of things that don't make sense, why is Sylvia here?

At the thought. Isa slowly raised up her head to look at Syliva. "Why are you here?" She blurted out. As she realized the rudeness of her tone, her eyes went wide, but it was too late. It was out.

Isabelline Carter was a dead bird.

@Driving Park

Entering the meeting room, the blond swordsman blinked.

It was not as spacious as he thought it would have been, though he preferred it having a moderate size. There was a long table sitting in the middle of the room. Several chairs were placed at where the table lay.

Not too flashy, not too bland, he thought as he approached the table. Dayum, that's just the way I like it. I didn't expect this place to look moderately normal, though.

And indeed, he really did not expect the meeting room to be moderately normal. Sure, he may have lived in a plentifully poor town and found nearly every room in the ECHO ship to be fascinatingly fancy, but he knew that, by ECHO's standards, the meeting room looked pretty normal. There was nothing surprising about the room, and that was what surprised him the most.

Walking over to one of the rolling chairs sitting at one of the black marble table's sides, Xander carefully took a seat and crossed his arms, analyzing his surroundings a bit more. Now that he took a closer look, there were pictures of some people... He presumed them to be pretty important. Harp-level, even.

What're those pictures supposed to serve as? The swordsman thought, feeling a bit anxious at the fact that there were important-looking things in a seemingly unimportant room.

The blue-eyed swordsman remained still as he slowly closed his eyes. He would relax and take on a calm look. And calm he looked indeed. Within a few seconds, he ended up looking like an edgy hardass having nothing better to do aside from remaining seated.

Perfect. He was ready for his teammates. No, he did not want to impress anyone with his edgy "cross-my-arms-and-hope-to-die" look; he simply preferred keeping his own thoughts to himself while maintaining the image of a cool-headed and (probably) diligent warrior on the outside.

Jaron hadn't stopped smiling since he had boarded the airship. Everything was so...interesting. The people, the weapons, hell, even the walls. He was even wowed by the fancy paper they had printed his orders on. He unfolded it and read it for the seventh time.

"You are to make your way to the meeting room, there you will meet your teammates and commander." It had taken him an hour just to find the hallway. Once he found the right room, he became sick with apprehension. What if his teammates hated him? What if his commander was mean? What if they thought Serpentis was lame? What if they thought he was lame? All these questions and more bounced around his mind for awhile. Eventually, he sighed and opened the door to find... a fairly mundane room empty but for a table and a blond haired swordsman. He took a seat and when the swordsman failed to speak, drew Serpentis.

"My name is Jaron." He smiled goofily "Swords are cool, aren't they?"

Isa stared at Syliva as she laughed, the sound coming out of her mouth sounding oddly hollow and cold.

She hates me.

...Well, then again... I'm pretty sure everyone hates me.

At that thought, Isa straightened and her face relaxed into one of content.

"Where else would I be?" Sylvia managed to exclaim during the laughter. "Vindrell?"

"I... uh... I don't know. Sorry..." She replied, her voice small. She really wished her font allowed her to disappear.

"Look, you're obviously very nervous about something. But why would I be upset at you for running? I'd hate for Echo to turn into an elementary school...coordinating group bathroom breaks in single file lines would be a nightmare."

Isa blinked for a moment, staring once again at the now all too close feren. Trying to get a bit away from her, Isa fell over on her butt, her hands catching her before she fell back completely.

No shit I'm nervous.

You're like... so much better at literally everything than me...

Isa sighed when Sylvia had said all she wanted to, asking her to walk with her. "Most people yell at me for running like I am a school age child..." She murmured to herself softly as she silently followed Sylvia, a pout on her face. But... They were going to the same place? What the hell did that mean?

Then, out of nowhere, a pair of feathers wings flew past them and entered the meeting room before them. "Mother Gala, how many people are coming to this meet- Wait... You're... headed... to that..." Isa's eyes went wide for a moment as she pieced everything together.

Who else?

How am I going to embarrass myself?

How can I prevent it? Can I?

But no really... who else? Holy shit... I think I'm going to pass out...

Calm down Isa. It'll be fine. You'll be fine.

Shit, no I won't. I won't be fine!

All the while, Isa followed Sylvia into the room at sat down, staring out into space.

Vern took off slowly down the hallways. It wasn't the ultimate concern, his minute lateness, as rather how the meeting was going to go began to create minor panic in his mind. As still, he was not sure of what was going to happen within this meeting or what matters where to be discussed within it. It was strangely terrifying at first, then worrying, then confusing. Why would the likes of Vern be pulled out randomly for something as anonymous as this?

I hope it isn't too bad...the thing I don't need at this moment is in time is a telling off by a superior hunter. It has to be that, right? It'd make sense for Vern to be sent for that. He wasn't badly behaved or mannered, though nothing extraordinary really happened to him, especially compared to some of the other few Hunters he knew. Vern never really had talked to any of the Hunters, besides Grant, as well as his other friend Les, and they never really talked to him. He knew none of the famous role models, to some extent, and never had attempted to get into that. If there was a place he'd have fitted in nicely, both socially and emotionally, it'd be the Engineering departments lower down. After the times he spent there, people shared common interests and understood what sort of individual he was. Up in these ranks, however, he was a phantom to social activities, was meerly nothing special amongst the comrades...even his only two friends barely shared a common interest.

Vern had now arrived to the hallway adjacent to the Meeting Room door. Looking around, a small clock embedded into the wall clearly stated that he wasn't that behind time.

"Alright...it's gonna be fine. Just walk in there...get the simple stuff out of the way, leave...then continue how you were..." It was almost as if he were speaking to someone else, minus the fact there were no individuals there for him to talk to. He took long deep, relaxing breaths to calm the minor nerves in his system. "C'mon...it'll be fine...you'll be fine. You have nothing to wo-"

He was interrupted by the door opening. And he turned sharply to identify the action, the individual was inside. He only caught a glimpse of the door closing.

Well, shit...it's showtime, I guess? Upon taking a few more relaxing breathers, he wrapped his left-hand around his right-arm awkwardly and dragged himself inside...

A man walked into the room and unsheathed a sword.

Holy crap, Xander thought as the man he had never met before refused to sheath his blade. W...Why the fuck is he taking out his sword? Is this guy trying to kill something? Because I think I'm the only living thing in this room right now aside from himself. And I don't think he's the kind of guy to cut himself-

At that moment, the man greeted himself. Jaron was his name, and he asked if swords were "cool."

...Are they? At least he's not trying to kill anything... I think.

Truthfully, Xander never found weapons in general to be legitimately awesome-looking. Sure, some were full of gimmicks and some had huge histories behind them, but in the end, all that mattered was whether it could be used well or not to ensure a longer survival for its wielder. If his sword broke, then it was a useless weapon. If it did not break, then it was not a useless weapon.

But he had to admit, some of the more advanced weapons people carried around were neat. Some even had cup-holders installed inside their weapons. How cool was that?

His eyes directed towards Jaron, he slowly redirected them back to the table before he resumed carrying out his persona. The blond-haired swordsman shrugged without a word, and while he was not lying, he probably looked far more disinterested in the topic than he made himself out to be. Xander decided to comment in a dead flat tone.

"Xander. Xander Zahir. Nice sword."

He did not realize he looked so edgy while he said that, especially since he had his eyes closed and his arms crossed and all of that wiz-biz.

Not long after Jaron entered the meeting room, a slew of people entered the meeting room. And by "slew of people," he meant a whopping three people had entered the freaking room. Xander opened his eyes and glanced at the entrance.

Oh shit, he thought worriedly. These guys don't look like they're just wannabe heroes. Even if one of them looks like a wannabe hero, I should never underestimate those harmless-looking people. Especially that bird girl. She looks like the type who would bump into women in hallways, but she could turn out to be a hardass who underwent immense battle training.

Xander's eyes turned to the silver-haired woman.

And then there's Longitude the Tall Woman. Longitude is definitely hiding something crazy in herself. She's probably got lots of crap going on in her head as well. Oh damn, what if I get on her nerves? That'd suck way too much. No, but more importantly, what if she gets on my nerves first and I get on her nerves because I express that stuff?

Or maybe I could just stop paying her attention and worry about it later.

It turned out that ignoring the silver-haired woman worked. His eyes turning to the man who entered, the blond perfectly maintained his idle expression, despite the fact that he was screaming internally so much.

Okay, so that guy is almost obviously taller than me. And I'm barely smaller than that Jaron guy. He's probably got more of a build than me, and even if he's weaker than me, he's probably boasting some extraordinary thing that makes his height the last thing I should be worrying about.

Dammit, why is everyone looking so natural with this kind of thing?! Even that Jaron guy is just smiling like fucking crazy even though I'm sitting here doing nothing but staring at people! Gawd, this is so tense!

Xander sighed without sharing any context to the people around him, closing his eyes as he turned to the table. There had to be a reason why he was brought into a room with a bunch of interestingly intimidating people (and if even the harmless-looking Feren made him feel nervous, then there definitely was something up). The man maintained his silence as everyone around him took seats.

The swordsman opened his eyes yet again, glancing at each and every person who had entered the room. His eyes went over to Jaron, then the tall and lean man, then the silver-haired woman, and then the bird girl.

He glared at the girl for a brief second. He swore that there was probably something fucking insane inside her as well, and he was not going to be taken by surprise by catastrophic secrets. Turning back to the table, he closed his eyes for the third time and lowered his head a bit.

Jaron was fiddling around with Serpentis when the woman walked in. She wore a full suit of armor with a long shidani saber on her hip. She was vaugely familiar, and the look on the faces of the others, including the two girls that had just walked in. Speaking of that, was there no unattractive people in this place? He was fairly certain that he had found zero unattractive people in his time at Echo.

He look once again at the older armored woman. The way she carried herself, as well as the armor, indicated military. The look and the girl with the bird wings, which were hella rad, by the way, told him she was well known. Famous Shidani soldier? Maybe...no. There was no way. A second look told him it had to be true. ECHO was just screwing with him now.

"No." He giggled hysterically "Shae Arca? No, there's no way. There is no way that I am special enough to be led by Shae "Goddamn" Arca."

[.]Vern Phelps[.]

---

As soon as Vern had entered the aesthetically pleasing room, he immediately noticed the authentic pieces of seating and dazzling colours around. It was almost like sending a kid into a house full of his most treasured toys, in triple scale-size. That was the first awestruck feeling Vern had felt since his initiation as a Hunter, the one before that being in his Weapon-Designer days when he arrived onto the HQ for the first time. Travelling had always been such a thing that left the man in his own world, and a ship as big and unique as this was only begging to have discoveries made. However, Vern never really had the time to do these things.

Vern then regained his vision of reality, returning to the body he was in. His eyes drew away from the artistic designs of some narrow details towards where he really was...Who he was really in a room with...He looked at the group inside. Pausing at the door-frame, he took the next few moments to study who was who. Two swordsmen, chanting away at one another, likely about swords, both at one side. They seemed averagely sized, in terms of height, though build was roughly similar to his own, yet being thinner in their own ways. Their weapons were large, uncomplicated designs. A simple manner of hack 'n' slash was definitely a popular choice within Echo's ranks. Next, on the adjacent wall, were two female figures. Ferens, of course. One was at an almost embarrassing height, if Vern were in her boots, bearing some sort of wings. They were pretty large, in fact, and were quite a sight for someone as unknown as Vern. She was dressed in casual clothing, in a similar way to his own attire, but with more simplicity. There was no family insignia. There was no hooded cape. The second, however, was much more formally dressed. Emphasis on Formal, it was more of a battle-ready outfit, combined into the unique look of a crystal-white dress. That was what at least Vern identified it as.

Before Vern continued to eye the rest of the group, he awkwardly made his way over to an empty wall. It was absent in the terms of any of his comrades, which made him feel the slightest bit more comfortable with the room. Crowding around one another can always be a tricky situation when out of combat, and one such as himself did not appreciate this when those anonymous to him. Vern allowed himself to take two unsteady breathers, allowing himself to come to somewhat balance against his nerves. From the little he had observed, half of these individuals had some sort of open personality to share amongst one another. Looking back upon the two guys he'd spotted first, they turned towards the door, smirking amongst themselves and such. Soon enough, his eyes followed slowly towards the door, as an armoured female entered. Once again, he seemed to be completely oblivious to anyone's identities, as a voice caught his ears from the first wall.

"Shae Arca? No, there's no way. There is no way that I am special enough to be led by Shae 'Goddamn' Arca." At that moment, a thought sparked in his mind. It was almost as if a thousand feet had just kicked him senselessly in the head to try and get him to realise his knowledge. He finally came to the sense of what he knew, and spoke it out to himself...

"Uhh...Who's Shae Arca?"

Still, staring out into space, her mind whirling with thoughts, Isa was oblivious to the events going on around here, even the entrance of her hero, Shae Arca, the glare of the blonde swordsman, or the entrance of the other members. After a few moments, a few words drifted through her subconscious, fairly delayed...

Commander Shaewyn Arca

Wait... What?

Isa blinked for a moment and looked up in time to see a newcomer ask who Shae Arca was.

Arca

SHAE

ARCA

"OH. MY. FREAKING. GALA." She shouted, her finger suddenly pointed very rudely at Shae Arca's face. Then, as if realizing what she'd just done, she continued, "OH MY GALA." She sat down, still staring at Shae Arca as if looking away from her would cause her to disappear. Then, what the boy earlier had said registered with her and she whipped around to look at him.

"You don't know who Shae Arca is? How new are you?" She asked him in all seriousness. "You must have joined like today if you haven't heard of Shae Arca. Shae Arca is my hero!" Then, once again realizing what she'd done, Isa's face went red and she sat down, suddenly silent.

From the corner of the room a strong female voice coughed as the black clad female coughed into her hand, nearby the Harp sat with what most just simply had to assume to be a smile on their face.

"Is everyone here?" The electronic voice rang out as the clear blue eyes behind the mask looked around the room.

"I believe so, sir." The same female responded after looking around the room. The Harp nodded slowly and began pulling out a briefcase and placing it on the table.

"Before I hand this off to your captain, I'd like to introduce each introduce yourselves. I'd also like to mention who your Captain and your first Lieutenant are. They are Shaewyn Arca and Sylvia Sterling respectively. So, if we will... Please start us off Shae. Just simply mention how long you've been with ECHO and something interesting you wish the others to know about you." The Harp told them, laying back calmly.

Isa thought it was all a bit childish but didn't mind the opportunity to talk about herself.

Shae Arca turned out to be a metaphorical bombshell. Not only was she a commander, but she was apparently going to be their commander. And as a long-time member of ECHO, she had the permission to throw around her bragging rights.

Geez, I wanna be able to brag like that as well, the blond swordsman thought, though he did a good job with keeping an idle expression.

Xander wondered just what kinds of hardships his soon-to-be leader had gone through, but he also wondered just why such a strange formation of a team had been created. What purpose would such a team serve, and why the hell was everyone charismatic in some form?

That bird girl, though, Xander thought giddily, pleasantly surprised at how there seemed to be an energetic bubble for the team. Teams needed energy bubbles, and he was pretty sure she would serve as a great bubble.

Then again, I'm the only one being a try-hard here, he reminded himself. And indeed; he really was the only one trying super hard to look serious. While it was technically working, that did not prevent him from realizing what a sore sight he would be if people were able to read his mind.

He remained still with his arms crossed, though he was now staring at Shae Arca with some high expectations. His serious look made him look as if he were glaring, however, though he doubted that a proclaimed big-shot like Arca would give a single shit about some new recruit making some blank expressions.