Zeravia's Five

fifteen

The soft knocking against the wooden door brought him back to reality. Back to what really mattered... he needed to get ready and to clear his mind for his first mission. He pushed himself into a sitting position, finding Angel's head peeking through the cracked door.

"Oh my god..." he exhaled and pushed himself out of his bed and shoving both of his hands on top of his head hiding his bed hair.

The girl chuckled and walked in, closing the door behind her. She tilted her head and watched him walk around his room in nothing but his ridiculously ugly boxers. She wondered how he was so comfortable around her since she knew he barely let anyone see him shirtless, let alone in boxers. Her eyes traced the scars along his back and she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Izzie told me about your dream..." she whispered closing her eyes, feeling secure with him around, knowing that they were both on the same side, "I haven't known Gia for as long as you have, but I can tell you one thing... I don't think she would ever do something like that," she spoke her mind freely.

"Is everyone just waiting for me or..." Tate asked finally moving his hands away from his hair and walking over to his closet.

"Gia is still getting ready, we both know you are faster than her, so you should be safe," the girl told him pushing a strand of blond hair that had escaped her ponytail out of the way.

Tate nodded smiling lightly. He glanced around his rom at the mess that it was. After his previous breakdown he had gone a bit crazy, tossing everything around, but he could find his way around the mess. After all, all he would need was the bare minimum. He felt a slap against his chest and winced, taking a step back before glaring at the giggling girl.

"Put a shirt on and pack your things... you and your man boobs are awaited downstairs," she teased him with a grin as she walked towards the closed door.

She put her hand on the knob and looked over her shoulder, "You don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable... but was it William that gave you those scars?"

Tate nodded as he grabbed a random shirt from his desk, "They're muscles by the way... not man boobs," he argued back, slipping the grey shirt on.

Angel raised a hand up, wiggling it in the air as if to dismiss him, "Same difference!"

With that, she was out of his room and headed back down the stairs. Leaving him with a big smile, the first one in a few days that felt just a little honest.

Tate packed rather quickly for once. He knew to only take the minimum requirements. Safety kit and some supplies he felt necessary, shoving it into one of the many pouches of his bag. He picked out random shirts and underwear and tossed them into the main storage area. They'd travel on foot which would take roughly two days just to get to Turham and he wouldn't be doing all of that in dirty underwear. He added some of the survival things he had gotten over the years from William who must've thought that was something the boy wanted. Turned out he had never used any of it, but it would surely come in handy now.

Once he was all packed, Tate made his way down to the castle's common room where everyone else was waiting, getting a bunch of advices from William while Eleanor stood by silently. When she caught a glimpse of the boy, she cleared her throat and walked over to him, grabbing his arm in a gentle manner, too gentle. She pressed her lips together and looked back at everyone before locking her eyes into the boy's, admiring them. They reminded her of midwinter, the cloudless sky swarming with intense snowfall. Stars melted in platinum.

Eleanor was always there to take care of all of them. She had been the only one who truly acted like a mother. That motherly and deeply caring part of her... it made her hurt every time she laid her eyes on Tate. Over the years, she had noticed the shift within him and ever since then, she hadn't been able to stop. The feeling that she had failed as a mother. He was a dreamer, full of hope for something more... but now that glimmer was gone. He was never meant to be a fighter, he was never meant for what he had been raised to do... he was meant for so much more and she knew it. All of these things she knew were the reasons why she had been so protective of him. She was trying to be a cushion for him to fall onto, but she had failed, so miserably.