We Are the Sand

We Are the Sand Chapter 4

  Chapter the Fourth: Home to Me

The sun beats down, and don't you know? All our lives are growing cold.

Their teacher was kind enough to let them do the paper over, partly because she did not want Olette's grade to be affected by Hayner's over-active imagination, and partly because the rest of the class had done so poorly on the project, an unforeseen oversight on her part.

"So what are we gonna do now?" Hayner had whined. Then he brightened. "Of course! We could do food reviews! I bet it would be easy to fill two pages about how good the various pizza restaurants in town are!"

Olette thought about this for a moment. The teacher did not say they could not do this. There really was no reason why they could not do it, other than the fact that it really was not that great an idea. Still, when had that ever stopped her friends? Still, she supposed she had to give them points on originality, even if it were merely an excuse to eat pizza. Right, because they really needed an excuse to do that.

"Except the only pizza place we really like is Benner's," Roxas reminded Hayner. And it was rather doubtful their teacher would wish to read a two-page treatise on how much the teens enjoyed Benner's Pizza, or any pizza, for that matter. Professionals tended to give little weight to the opinions of non-professionals. Regular people seemed to follow suit, although giving more credence to the opinions of their friends and family members than they otherwise might, or perhaps even should.

"'Yeah, Benner's is awesome and everyone should eat there' doesn't exactly make a paper," Olette said.

Hayner rolled his eyes. "Then we say why it's awesome. The pizza is awesome, the prices are awesome, the service is awesome--"

"Can we come up with a better word than 'awesome?'" Pence asked. Besides, the Shires of Vermont had given their People's Choice Award to Ramunto's just across the street from Benner's. Not that this would factor into their decision, of course. Benner's was better because reasons, that's why.

"As if! 'Awesome' is the perfect word to use! Because it's true!"

**********************************
The crimson-haired man stared down in disgust at the battered black creature at his feet. Its antennae twitched desultorily once, twice, before being crushed under an equally black heavy boot.

He ran a hand very much used to such things through carefully tussled blood-red spikes and groaned wearily, kicking the unholy entity, now very much dead, for good measure.

"Seriously? We'll never get them back at this rate! A few measly Shadows? Really? Is that the best they can do here?" His shoulders sank, clad as they were in a cloak made of a material that bore no slight resemblance to leather, but much thicker, yet somehow lighter in composition.

"I think they don't want us to get them back," his slight, blue-haired companion replied, not looking at him. The full harvest moon silvered his lush steel-blue mane as he made a few quick notations in a small writing pad he seemed to carry with him at all times. Which he did. Where he kept it, no-one was entirely certain. The youth paused briefly from his writing and glanced up at the older man. "Are you certain you saw some Large Bodies yesterday?"

"Quite certain," the other ground out. He spat in the dying grass by his feet, causing his friend(?) to grimace in distaste, his small, almost dainty nose wrinkling at the other's rude action.

"Ah, man!" another voice rang out. Male, like the others, this one slightly higher in pitch and tone. "I really don't need this right now!"

"None of us do, Demyx--er, Nocturne."

The red-haired man grinned. "Still haven't got that memorised, eh, Illusion?"

The blue-haired man, more boy, really, glowered at the elder man. "How can I, when such names are ridiculous, and better suited for some sort of Power Ranger rip-off, or Japanese cartoon show?" He rolled cobalt eyes skyward and shook his head. A lock of hair fell into his other eye, and he brushed it away in irritation.

"You mean, anime?" Demyx, the blond man addressed previously, as Nocturne, no less, asked.

The flame-haired man grinned again. "Let's not jump to any conclusions."

The blue-haired man, called Illusion by his comrades, but in reality named Zexion, glared at his two comrades. "I think I hate you."
"Yeah, well, we love you. No homo, though."

Demyx frowned. "I thought that was kinda a given, ya know?"

The red-head's smile faded slightly. "You never know who's watching us." He glanced around, concern colouring his features. Seeing nothing but the pale moon, now seemingly split in half by a wispy darkish grey cloud, he sighed in relief.

He had been convinced that he had seen a light on in a window in one of the houses the day before, and could have sworn he had spotted a boy peering out his window at him, but he brushed that aside. There was no way that was possible. No way whatsoever. At least that was what he told himself.

I can't afford to be careless, he thought. It's not just my neck on the line here.

He shook his head. He really could use a drink here. A tall, cool glass of Miller Lite would really hit the spot right about now. Or anything, really, at this point.

Right, because the boss would so not come after me for drinking on the job. Because fighting Heartless drunk was such a good idea, and Xaldin certainly never got called out for that. He sighed and ran his fingers through his messy locks.

"Perhaps you should brush it every once in a while," Zexion remarked snidely.

Axel grinned. "Heh, no way! The fangirls love it like this." He thought for a moment. "Oh, right, yeah, good idea."

Zexion crossed his arms in smug self-satisfaction. "You're welcome."

*******************************

Roxas did not tell his friends what he has seen the night before. Not only because they would not believe it, but because he was not entirely certain of what, if anything, he had actually seen. There was no need to worry them needlessly. If the topic came up, he would mention it then. Maybe. If not, he would say nothing. There really was no need to worry about such things.

At any rate, there was no way to prove that he had in fact seen what he thought he had seen, so there really was no reason to say anything. Really. He forced a smile to his lips and made himself focus on what his friends were saying, bland and boring though it may be. That was what friends did after all, right?

"Say, how many pizza toppings does Benner's have, anyway?" Hayner asked.

Roxas blinked. Were they really going with that? Ah, well. "Um...a lot?"

Hayner rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we got that much. But we need an exact number for the paper. We can't just say 'a lot,' y'know."

"Oh." Truly profound, that, Roxas. Your parents must be proud.

****************************

Returning to castle all but empty-handed did not suit the Black Knights. Scratch that; entirely empty-handed, since Shadows were pure-blooded Heartless, and thus did not give off Hearts. Still, a life or two saved was a life or two saved, so they really could not complain that much about it, could they?

Why yes, yes they could.

"If we had a Keyblade wielder with us, we could get this job done sooo much faster," Nocturne sighed.

Illusion rolled his eyes. "You still cannot get a Heart from a Shadow. It just does not work like that."

Of course they could not. That was why there were so many Shadow Heartless running around, and few if any Emblem Heartless. This could not be accidental. Still, Axel knew better than to voice such concerns. Let them think they actually had a chance of getting out of this. Never mind that he had been doing this for ten-plus years. Instead, he suggested scouting the areas around a few trailer parks (that's communities to you, Axel.) for Heartless.

"There are plenty of them in the area, you know," he added needlessly. Yes, everyone knew about the various manufactured home communities in town, the preferred term for such locations. There was the White Birches Community off Burgess Street, (and yes, Spell-check just let that pass right there) Sunset Farms on Route 7A, (which had little to do with either farms or sunsets; Zexion had been disappointed when he had discovered this.) Smith's Mobile Home Park on Penny Lane, (which had nothing to do with The Beetles; Demyx had been disappointed; no-one else really cared.) Willow Mobile Home Park on Emma Drive, (free of willows, Demyx's favourite type of tree,. ) Gore Road Park, (which had nothing to do with either gore or parks; everyone was disappointed with this, Zexion most of all.) MVC Trailer Park on Morgan Street, which at least had the decency to be honest and not attempt to pretty up what it was, Mountain View, on the road of the same name, save for the fact that it was one word instead of two, which aggravated Zexion to no end, Chapel Road Mobile Home Park on Chapel Road, that even had the decency to have a church on it, Catamount Mobile Home Park, Sweets Mobile Home Park, West Road Community, East Mountain Mobile Home Park, and Ravenswood, which was nowhere near as romantic as it sounds. And those were just the ones in the town proper. There were many more in Pownal, for example, just south of where they were.

"So, where exactly do we start?" Demyx asked.


****************************


Olette pinched the bridge of her nose. "Roxas, that's a stick."

"It's not just a stick; it's a branch." Indeed, it was. A mighty fine example of one, as well, with several slender twigs forking off a thick main shaft, about one-fourth the thickness of Roxas' arm, and almost as long. It had come down from a white maple tree, judging from the bark, not that Ollette would ever admit to being able to tell trees apart like that. That was not the sort of thing about which anyone would brag to one's friends.

He had needed something to fend off the hordes of little black critters running about all over the place. They had not been there before, and they certainly did not belong here. Spying the piece of tree in a neighbour's lawn, he had grabbed it and had carried it with him ever since. It was better than nothing, at least.

He was most likely not the first person in town to have seen these beasties; that would be rather convenient. However, he was the first person to mention them to his friends, which had to count for something, right?

Describing them had been...rather interesting, to say the least. It had been fairly difficult to say what they looked like without coming across as somewhat of a racist. People tend to take umbrage if someone mentions squat little black humanoids with golden eyes and claws running around. He swore one bit into a slice of watermelon, as though to dare him to mention that to his peers. Considering it had looked him right in the eyes when it had done that...(And had spit a seed in his face, despite there being plenty of watermelons in stores that had edible seeds; it was almost as though it had gone out of its way to find the one in the entire state of Vermont that did not, just to do what it did.)

No, it was far better for his friends to think he had been hallucinating than that he was a bigot. Which they did, thinking him slightly mad for several weeks before Selphie had seen one of the Heartless herself. She had beaten it off with a broom and sent it scurrying over to the neighbour's yard where it had promptly been eaten by the huge mastiff they had chained up in the front. So the dog had some use, besides scaring off the neighbourhood children.

Unfortunately, the dog had soon become a Heartless itself. Right, because the dog needed to be scarier. And so Selphie never left they house without at least one of her parents. She did not even take the bus anymore.
There had been rumours that a student from Bennington College (so a hipster with more money than ambition) had taken one of these creatures in as a pet and called it Chester. Said alleged student was supposedly named Demyx, and was apparently a member in the school band. However, no-one had any evidence of this, so most paid it little heed.

Roxas raised it into the air above his head. "It's the Stick of Destiny."

Everyone around him oohed and ahhhhed as expected. And by "everyone," we mean several of the kids from his class, because they seemingly flock together, these teenagers. Considering the circumstances in which they had found themselves, however, one could scarcely call this a bad thing.

A moment like this called for people pledging their strength one to another. And so, they did. Seifer offered his Struggle bat, which was a slightly suggestive-looking bat wrapped with foam, which frankly would do them no good, but the thought was there. Pence offered to upload a nasty virus into the Heartless' computers, not that it was all that likely they had computers, but again, the thought. Namine promised to draw rather disturbing pictures of the creatures and post them on the internet. At least, that was what Roxas thought she had said; he couldn't quite understand her through her giggles. Riku offered up his bat, which was not wrapped with foam, and made of aluminium, but that most likely had to do with his fondness for hitting living things with it, and finally having a legitimate reason to do so than any noble intent. But at this point, Roxas and his friends were willing to take what they could get.

More and more of the student body pledged their allegiance to this group. Not really a surprise, considering the school was small enough that everyone knew everyone else, but heart-warming nonetheless.

And thus the Order of the Stick was formed. Sadly, shortly thereafter, they had gotten into a bit of a run-in with the Order of the Phoenix over copyright issues, and the Fellowship of the Pooh after Roxas had received a Winner stick after finishing an ice cream bar. (Maple nut, not sea-salt; the latter was not a popular flavour in Vermont, as one can well imagine.) After quite the scuffle between Piglet and Setzer, the stick was taken away from the group and turned into a Pooh Stick, whereby it was then returned to the Fellowship. Setzer had nursed the biggest black eye of his life that day and swore undying vengeance on the sapient plush toys. At least for five minutes; he really wasn't very good at remembering to hold a grudge. A shame, that.

Selphie, meanwhile, had never quite forgiven Harry Potter for choosing Ginny Weasely over Hermione Granger, (and for not being anywhere near as cool as Harry Dresden. Seriously, that man is a beast.) or Draco Malfoy for existing in the first place, so had no intentions of ever setting aside her resentment over being soundly defeated by either the Fellowship of the Pooh, or the Order of the Phoenix, since said Order was nowhere near as impressive as its name would suggest. A pity, but far from unexpected. Were Zexion here, he would shrug and chalk it up to the absence of tentacles and body horror contained therein, which would disturb many, if not all the members of the Order of the Stick. Thus it should come as a great relief to all involved that he was not there to offer such a suggestion. In fact, it should come as a great to anyone that he was not there to offer such a suggestion.

"So," Yuffie asked, "do we have to pay dues to get in or what?" She leaned forward, her hands on her narrow hips, a big grin on her round, slightly tanned face. A lock of short, dark brown hair slid forward, obscuring a chocolate-brown eye.

Roxas shook his head. Why would they, he wondered. After all, did Aragorn demand fees from the other members of the Fellowship of the Ring? No, of course not. They had all seen the movies several times over and could recite lines like the best of them. They were even aware that there were books out, which of course they had never read. After all, they had already seen the movies, and Peter Jackson made the movies, so how could the books possibly be any better? Of course, they had no idea that prior to directing the wildly popular fantasy series, he had specialised in cult horror movies. How could they? That would involve actual research, and why on Earth would they bother to do that?

Of course, this led to the teens arguing which character was cooler. Yuffie and Selphie insisted that Legolas was the coolest character, on account of being an elf archer who was incredibly hot to boot. Also, he had the best stunts. Climbing on a chain and firing arrows into a cave troll's skull? That was wicked. No-one could say otherwise.

Setzer snorted, his arms crossed over his chest, and eyes narrowed in disdain. "Please. Everyone knows Pippin is best Hobbit. That's a thing, and you can't even deny it."

Roxas rolled his eyes. Right, because Sam did nothing, and totally was not the one who threw the Ring into Mount Doom, when Frodo was not strong enough to do so. Yeah, okay, sure. Whatever you say. He told the other boy this, which earned him another eye-roll. (But not Iroh, sadly.)

"Ha!" Kairi laughed. "Did he take out the Nazgul? No? You know why? 'Cause Eowyn did, that's why!"

Ollette sighed. "Yes, that's all very well and good, but she had to do it dressed as a man, which is seriously not cool. If she had done it in a dress or something, that would be so much better, I think." And that's not because I am totally into magical girls, she mentally added, because I am not. No, really.

This led naturally into reciting lines of dialogue from the movie. Because when one's town is threatened by creature unseen by human eyes, the natural response to this is to quote movies that have little to do with the situation at hand. Right.

"No-one tosses a dwarf!" Pence growled, in a fair approximation of the dwarf character. Gimli.

"Yeah, except for that one time when he tells Aragorn to toss him across a wide gap in the Mines of Moria," Hayner sneered. An excellent cross-over reference would be to mention the dwarves from "A Game of Thrones" and "Twin Peaks," but since none of them had premium cable or had any real interest in cult television programmes not imported from Great Britain, they would do no such thing. A pity, that. They really should broaden their horizons.

"A red sun rises," Olette intoned. "Blood had been spilt in the night."

The only natural follow-up to this is to sing a relatively obscure song from before our young protagonists were born. Right. And so they did. Or one did, that is. And that one would be Seifer, of all people. "Red Skies at Night", if you're at all interested.


This led to the oh-so-brilliant observation that there were actual lyrics to the song in question besides the chorus. Rest assured this was the first time these kids had heard this. Yes, really. Admit it, you were thinking the same thing yourself.

"That's nice. But 'Red Rain' is better," Setzer said. To prove it, he started to sing. Sadly, he cannot provide the lyrics thanks to copyright infringement. Seifer would have his hide for violating such a thing.

Were these children of a certain generation, this might spark an argument over whether Genesis was better before or after Peter Gabriel left. Namine, being the romantic she is, might claim that Phil Collins-era Genesis was underrated, and that "Follow You, Follow Me" was an excellent and under-appreciated tune. She would be right, of course, but do not tell Hayner this, he of the "Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" persuasion.

Sadly, they were not, and only know Phil Collins because he provided the soundtrack to "Disney's Tarzan." Say what you will about them; they certainly know their Disney trivia.

"That's all very well and good," Roxas said after the song was over, "but what does that have to do with all the little black guys running around?"

The mood darkened somewhat at this. Oh, Roxas, when will you ever learn that you do not ruin the mood by bringing up Things of Grave Import? Especially after two impromptu musical numbers only tangentially related to the matter at hand.

Ollette rubbed the back of her head. "Um, Roxas, you might wanna rephrase that."

Roxas blushed. "Oh, right. Sorry. The little black things."

Everyone looked at one another, confused.

"Um, good question. Nothing, I guess. But it's a good song nonetheless," Fuu said.

It was, but that was beside the point. Unquestionably one of Peter Gabriel's finest. Still had no relation to the situation at hand, not that anyone besides Roxas really cared at this point.

***************************
"You think the kid saw you?" Saix asked as they returned to the castle.

Axel rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not even sure there was a kid, to be honest." That's right, Axel. You are so good at lying. Ha, ha, yeah, no.

"Why don't I believe you?" Saix shook his head. He sighed. "Whatever. Look, I'm not gonna tell the boss or anything, so don't worry about it. But if he's the one the boss is after, there's nothing I can do about it. The boss wants what he wants, and he gets what he wants. There's only so much we can do about it."

Right. That was exactly what Axel needed to hear at that moment.