lepidope

Light of The Rebellion

Matias would have been the first one out the door. He wasn't one for breakfast, but he felt the urge today, and typically that meant that the day would go easy on him.

Keyword "would".

From behind him he heard a loud clunk followed by an equally audible hiss. He turned around and, to his horror, he saw exactly what he had feared. He got hit with a sudden chill that dissipated about at quickly, effective for him to rush over to Midnight's side.

"What?! What happened?! Did it burst?!"

His hand drifted over where he remembered the wound being, though it was eventually led over by Midnight's own hand. A phantom feeling of warm dampness came under his palm, and although he knew to ignore it, his brain didn't stop making him think something was actually there.

Light of The Rebellion

Matias leaned back almost in perfect unison to Midnight, he himself being a bit tattered from last night's fiascos. He could sense Midnight's own tiredness in the air– he has known about it even. He was about to suggest resting before Bane popped in the room with the prospect of food.

"Go ahead," he replied, "I'm starving."

He turned back to Midnight.

"I think you deserve at least some kind of break. We'll come back to this."

Light of The Rebellion

Matias pouted, raising an eyebrow at the boss.

"I hope your senses know what the hell they're talking about."

Another huff. His legs took him a little closer to the desk and directed him to the nearest chair.

"Well first we gotta know where they even are," he said, "because they've been taken from pretty much everywhere, but we don't know where they even ended up."

He then, suddenly, chuckled.

"Hell. Maybe the bug knows."

Light of The Rebellion

A hand met Matias's brow, massaging the center as he let out a hefty sigh. His head rose, and he took one last gander at the list of names before Midnight set it aside.

"I had no idea this was going on for so long," he huffed, "like, this has been going on for longer than I've been alive. And no one knew until now? Geez..."

He heard the word "bug", and that was enough for him to huff out some steam.

"It's... Ugh. Whatever. I still don't trust that thing, but maybe you know more than I do. What is it providing to the team exactly?"

the alphabet game. lol

Slither

Light of The Rebellion

"Well..."

He took a look, starting from the most recent entry.

Water elemental.

Fae.

Werewolf.

Something he couldn't even think of pronouncing despite being bilingual.

"Uh..."

With every row of names, the field had a different variable. Maybe the longer ones did, but Matias couldn't find a single repeat of any race as far as he could see...

Until about fifty years in.

Fae.

Long name.

Werewolf.

Water elemental.

He had to blink a few times. He swiped down to read the first few fields again just to be sure.

"It's... It's almost identical. Fifty years in, the same races went missing... Is that it?"

Light of The Rebellion

Matias took Midnight's response as an indirect invitation to enter her office. Being a third naked wasn't exactly appropriate in the current situation, but he was stuck now. His eyes squinted at the bright screen before him, name after name after name after name filling his vision. He swiped up out of curiosity; different sets of names sped by, yet the scroll bar at the right of the screen barely moved. The dates differed by months and years; some were recorded back before Matias was even conceived.

"That's way more than 'a few times'," he said, pulling back from the screen. "So there's even more mystics missing and we didn't even know about them? Are they dead or something? Why haven't we been focusing on them? He clearly knew about them."

Light of The Rebellion

The bug gave Iris a gentle nod, dwelling on the question for a few seconds after. Its hands floated over its chest as it seemed to be thinking. Then, suddenly, it looked at Iris again, ready to speak.

"MY TRUE NAME IS CONFIDENTIAL," it signed, "BUT YOU MAY CALL ME OLEANDER. I DO NOT HAVE A PRONOUN PREFERENCE."

"Oleander" began making its way to the door, its hobble from last night now gone. It stared at Matias from the doorway and even stayed doing so for a few moments as it stepped down the hall without a word. Matias watched it creep down the stairs, hearing every creak under the creature's boots. He only stood straight once he couldn't see or hear it anymore.

From there, he began walking to where he was told to go. That was when he heard pacing behind the door to the supposed office. He could only assume what was going on in there.

"Have you been doing that all night?" he called. "Mija, ya es suficiente. At least come out to get something to eat."

Light of The Rebellion

Matias had cocooned himself in the sheets, the soft linen pressing lovingly against his skin. He would have slept in forever were it not for the sun piercing his eyes with its brilliant rays. He stirred awake, slowly but surely pulling himself out of his literal comfort zone with a yawn. There was a pit in his stomach that was begging to be filled with something– anything– so he ventured out of the room in search of some sort of kitchen.

That was when he heard a sudden hiss, like gas escaping a broken pipe, from the guest room. A peep from the crack of the door revealed to him that the bug's helmet was oozing blue smoke like it was on fire. The hissing tapered off eventually, as did the smoke. Then, the helmet's lenses flickered on, and the bug was reanimated, slowly rising to its feet. It took a moment to groom its antennae and neck fur in its hands before looking towards Iris.

"GOOD MORNING," it signed, flicking one of its antennae before looking towards the door. "AND SALUTATIONS, HUMAN."

Matias swore under his breath, practically scrambling away from the door and nearly falling onto his posterior. The wall behind him served as support, but it had the drawback of making him sound a quite noticable impact with his back.

Light of The Rebellion

Matias watched Midnight take her leave in silence. He only looked back at the sound of Iris's voice, raising his eyebrows when she was done.

"Well," he said, "she can have fun losing sleep. I'm going to get mine back. Good night."

And off he went to "his" room. As he approached the bed, he ran his finger along where he was shot. The faux leather of his jacket had been ripped clean through, crisp around the edge of the bullet hole. Iris did a good job fixing him up, but he was left with a small but noticeable scar that was rather touch to the touch.

"Damn moth," he snarled under his breath, tossing his ruined jacket onto the floor.

He made himself comfortable. No jacket, no jeans, comforters wrapped nicely around him as he laid on his side. His unease poked at him to keep him awake, but it only worked for so long. Soon he was undergoing REM, and soon he'd get to see what was in store for him when the sun rose, for better or for worse.