Broken Souls

Rise and Shine

"Let's just do it." I say. It's no less than a week later and few of our 'training sessions' with Ethan have yielded useful results. The team's grown restless and though we needed to slow down after hitting the wall that was Pisces's death, now we're sitting and letting the lingering scent of death choke us all.

It shows in morale. Fang slumps off the edge of the bed, a glum expression (his new default) plastered across his face, Minerva is idling and grooming her tails, Reginae is trying to synthesize using light from outside the huge sliding-door windows, Ten is perched on the dresser, head cloaked by his wings, and Hycanith is practicing handling her bone weapon near the closet.

A week ago, we would've been up and going by now, but every day is suddenly a struggle. I can feel the weariness tug at me in all directions, ordering me back to bed, but beneath that is the vicious energy Pisces imparted in all of us on the way out. If I could awaken it in the team again, perhaps things would be better.

Some progress with Ethan wouldn't be amiss either, but I'm happy to have the hulking shadow of what was once a friend close to me again. I can sense something in him, inches away from my grasp. There has to be something I can do to get him back, something I can say, some string I could pull...

It's killing me.

"Do what?" replies Minerva, finally, killing the silence.

"Gym." I reply.

"Can't. Ethan hasn't fought trainers yet."

Okay, that's not true, but we don't mention the Lance incident anymore. "We don't need him, though. It's a water gym. We have a grass type right here." I point to Reginae, who lifts his head, looking around for some indication as to why he's being picked on.

"Sounds good enough to me. We'll have to do it eventually."

"How long do we have, anyways?" asks Minerva.

"Five months, give or take a few weeks." I shrug. "Probably take. Four and a half. I think."

"Still not keeping a record, are we?" Minerva asks. "I feel like we should be counting down the days until our impending erasure from existence, in my humble opinion."

"Alright. Congratulations, Minerva, you're counting."
Minerva groans, looking up from her tails and falling off her hotel bed.

"It's not even five months, anyways. Red won't do it." Reginae says from his area, petals flared to life as the sunlight grows more intense. We should really be going if we want to get anything done with the day.

"He has." I reply, though I've been through this enough to hold back the slew of approaching traumatic memories.

Reginae corrects himself, "This Red. He wants something from you, Ashley. Our situation is more of... an ambiguous countdown until one of us wrecks up and the very time-space continuum is torn to shreds."

"So I don't have to keep track? Sounds good to me." Minerva says, and for once, everyone laughs.

Minerva can be surprisingly funny when she's not just being an asshole.

The team gets up, in part to humor her, but also because the apathy eventually gives way to guilt and because talking about the end of all life tends to be as far as idle chatter could go.

It gets lonely when you're left to your thoughts in total silence. In the middle of the day, while training, it's fine, but late at night or in the early morning, your mind drifts places you don't want it to go and you're back to the same failures, the same mistakes, and the same bitter aftertaste you get before and after sleeping in your mouth.