Dormant

14

Give me a word,
Give me a sign,
Show me where to look,
Tell me what will I find,
Lay me on the ground,
Fly me in the sky,
Show me where to look,
Tell me what will I find,
Oh, heaven let your light shine down.

-Collective Soul, Shine

14

War's gaze flickered constantly between the two immortal women sitting at the table, slowly eating the meal that Jessica had prepared for everyone.

He supposed that he should have seen this coming. John sat at the end of the table, while Jessica sat on his right with Death in between her and Sera as Abbygail sat across from Sera while Abbygail was beside War, Strife sitting on the other side of War beside John. Depending on the person, the hearty meal was disappearing. John and Strife were inhaling the food at an insane speed as War ate at a slightly slower rate to be more polite, while Sera, Abbygail, and Jessica ate at a more regular speed, Death pulling up at the end since he spent more time poking the 'noodles' on his plate with his fork and a scowl than eating them. And, strangely enough, it was quiet. The only two that had exchanged conversation so far was Jessica and John, where Jessica had been asking the old man how Strife and War had done. Mumbling, John had muttered something around his drink and no more words had been exchanged so far.

Yet.

"Eat." War looked up from his mashed potatoes, watching as Jessica glared at Death and pushed his plate closer to him, frowning. Death's nose curled. "You're not going to get over this cold unless you start eating and drinking. No one can fight off anything while being dehydrated and starving." She lifted an eyebrow. "And I've never heard of anyone not liking noodles. All I put in them was butter and salt."

"I feel like anything that you make for me to eat while ill is poisonous," Death complained, scowling at the noodles he had wrapped about his fork lazily.

"Aw, poor Deathy-Weathy is playing with his food!"

"Don't call me that," growled the Pale Horseman, glaring at the black-haired woman giggling beside War. "Besides," he added, lifting the noodles high once more to scrunch his nose up at them in disgust, "they taste funny. How am I supposed to eat something when they taste strange?"

"Everything tastes strange when yore sick. That's why I don't like gettin' sick." John grunted as he forked a mouthful of green beans into his mouth. He had yet to stop eating.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Says the man who gets sick at least once every four months."

John smiled, the corners of his mouth wrinkling comically. Shaking his head, War turned back to his food. He was pretty much full by now... this was his fifth plate after all. Eyeing Abbygail's mostly full plate, he figured that was her second -he had expected her to eat more, being half griffin and all. Strife was on his sixth; he had announced his accomplishment when he had sat down with that one, claiming that all of the muscle he had needed to be feed while flexing an arm. Jessica had scoffed along with Sera.

War's gaze traveled to Sera, who was calmly eating still. The woman had hardly spoken all of supper, only making the occasional noise when someone spoke to her, which was hardly never. She wasn't like Abbygail. There was a tougher exterior around her, one that was noticeably spikier and thicker to where she allowed no one to enter her defenses at whatever cost. It was clear that Abbygail and her were friends, but War could tell that they were both hiding something from the other. But what? Admittedly, War was extremely curious to know what both women were. Strife obviously had a predication and War had a guess that even Jessica was curious, judging by the frown that always seemed to grow across the woman's face whenever Abbygail said something. Both women were guarded, though. Why, War wanted to know. As a Horseman, he wasn't used to valuable secrets like Earth's Guardians not being in his knowledge.