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He watches Erik picking up different looking rocks. "Well,atleast he is happy..." He sighs
As he walks Ifrit follows him. Yasuo looks back at Odyssey and Chiara and stops. "Are You coming?".

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Isla Greer

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Isla blinked. "Of course." She summoned a wave of magic to her hands. "Do you think you can sit for me? Just for a minute?" She gestured at the bed. Blue lightning crackled through the air as she did so, and she quickly returned her hands to her sides.

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"I know....and..thanks. But it passed years since last time I acted like this,when I was normal..." He sighs and looks away. "But I guess those will be only memories". Odyssey wags his tail nervously and looks at his front paw with a visible disgust on his face. "I hate these robotic parts" He hisses

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Chiara acts and puts a hand on his paw, concealing it. "We all have things about our pasts my child. And abhoring them is alright. But you should not let it affect your future. You are still a very intelligent and loyal feline, my child." A little hesitant, Chiara proceeds to scratch Odyssey behind their ear. She once read that cats like it. "The past cannot be changed. But that is no reason to give up reaching for it."

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"To be honest ,It would be just nice to go back in time and change everything" He looks at Chiara and sighs. "But right....lets talk about what is now not about past. I dont really like the dragon man over there,plus I dont trust him...at all. Do you?" He rolls his eyes and looks at Erik "And him...yeah...I need to take care of that creature from now. And still he is very young. Im not a good parent anyw-..." He suddenly stops talking and starts to purr again letting a small meow "Ah yes, thats the spot!"

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Aret did as requested, sitting on her knees and getting comfortable. "I appreciate you doing this for me... I know it won't fix everything, but to have the painful wounds healed means a lot."

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Chiara shook her head but scratches his ear some more. Seeing Odyssey act like a genuine cat was kind of wholesome. "You shouldn't resent the past. It's unchangeable, we cannot go back and fix it. So instead, we learn from the past to make sure the future is better." She looks at Yasuo. "My child, you should give them a little space. I sense a lot of turbulence inside his soul. And he lost a family heirloom. Maybe if we can make sure he is more himself, you can paint your own picture more accurately."

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Isla Greer

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You're the Saint. I owe you so much more than that, she thought but didn't say. Quietly, she directed the magic flow to the Saint's shoulders, and let it wash over her.

As their magicks touched, Isla felt the Saint's soul. It didn't feel like that of an alive or dead soul. Not even something in between. Something vast and hovering, just over the horizon, waiting for her to touch it. To become like it.

She forced more magic into her palms and the wounds shuddered, then began to close up.

"Does that feel alright?" she asked.

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Aret smiled and leaned into Isla's touch, grabbing her wrists gently. "You... You're so kind, Isla. I'm glad to be spending time with you. What a blessing it is to be near you..." She closed her eyes, relaxing under Isla for the first time in what felt like centuries.

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Isla Greer

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Isla blinked, startled, and for some reason, felt the urge to hide her rapidly reddening face. "A-Ah- I'm glad you feel that way..."

That wasn't right. Isla wasn't kind. Hardly a blessing to anyone, much less a Saint. It was a lie, one she had to admit to the Saint before it was too late. Before she began to trust Isla, and end up dead for it.

But for some reason, she wanted to live in the lie. Just a bit longer. Let that be the truth.

Her fingers gently wrapped around the Saint's forearms. "...Thank you."

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She turned pink, her smile widening and her head tilting slightly. She looked down at Isla's hands, then at her lips, then her eyes. "Don't thank me... I'm only telling you the truth." She moved to place her hands on Isla's cheeks.

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Isla Greer

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Isla hadn't realised that she'd gotten so close. Slowly, her hand lifted and touched the back of the Saint's head. "My Saint..."

All she could focus on were those those hypnotising eyes- ever drawing her closer, closer-

Without thinking, she started to lean in for a kiss.

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She didn't pull away or flinch at her touch. Actually, she encouraged it, using her wings to wrap around Isla loosely and pull her slightly closer, connecting their lips. Kisses from the Saint were long and full of compassion and desire- and sugary sweet, too. She smiled into the kiss, pulling Isla even closer to her warm body.

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Isla Greer

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The Saint's lips were so soft... and she was so warm... and she smelled so good... Isla leaned deeper into the kiss, closing her eyes in bliss. She was kissing the Saint...

Reality crashed into her and she gasped, eyes shooting open and her arms pushing her Saint back.

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Aret flinched slightly at the sudden movement and retracted her hands, feeling her lips where Isla's own once were. She blushed intensely and turned away, silent, but her smile said everything for her. "I love you, Isla..."

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He picks up a white rock looking at it. "Hei Yas check this white rock! It looks amazing!" He jumps in front of Yasuo holding a lot of rocks in his hands trying to show him the white one. "Look at that white one near the black one. And the brown rock looks like it has stripes on it".


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He hisses and looks away from Yasuo.
"I know, but it will take A lot of time for me to accept him. I was soli untill now....".
"And maybe he should be careful where he puts his objects...or maybe the dragon ate it. Who knows really!" He laughs

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Isla Greer

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She couldn't speak. Couldn't think. For the first time in her life, Isla just stared at the Saint, mouth awkwardly gaping open, like an ugly fish.

She shut it quickly, but the words still evaded her. What could you say, when a god stood in front of you? A god you betrayed, a god you left behind, a god you loved-

"I-I-" She had to apologise. She had to say she was sorry. She had to say no, it was the right thing to do, but- "I love you too."

Then she swept forward and took the Saint in her arms once again, pulling her into a kiss.

Isla closed her eyes against the onslaught of furious thoughts her conscience directed at her.

She's the Saint! The Holy being you turned against the very moment you betrayed your king! The one your ally is going to bastardize into a weapon! You have no right to hold her like this! You have no right to be so selfish-

But if this was what selfish was... Isla would be the most damn selfish woman on the planet.

And with that, Isla finally banished Puppet's voice from her head... and allowed the Saint's warmth to finally return. Gentle and warm, intertwining with the very fabric of her being. Two souls, one.

She began to cry.

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Puppet

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Puppet grimaced and stuttered to a halt as the magic within him gave a deep shudder. Could it be...?

Adrik paused, one hand on his pack, eyes shifting between him and the bloody knife he'd slipped inside. "Is everything alright?" he asked. "You seem kinda distracted." He reached for Puppet.

Never one to let any old fool manipulate him, Puppet ducked to the side. Isla's soul gave a lurch, and he nearly gasped in surprise.

Adrik's hand wrapped around him and dragged him forward. Puppet twitched helplessly as the teen ran his fingers over his buttons and fragile stitching. His eyebrows furrowed, a frown settling on his Legion features.

"Your soul, it's hurt," he said. "Isn't it?"

Damn boy. He was perceptive. It wasn't Puppet's soul that was hurt so much though, no- it was the fragment of Isla's that he kept buried deep inside.

The fragment he used to control her. To keep her believing everything he needed and wanted her to believe. For that very moment where he would... He chuckled to himself.

"Ah, but what is hurt but a natural part of life? Really-"

"Isn't your name Aeries? That's what Isla called you."

Puppet nearly felt a laugh bubbling up in him at that. Oh, this foolish little child. A fake magician. A fake intellect. A fake morality he clung to, even as he shoved a knife up someone's ribcage.

It was pitiful.

And perhaps because his hold over Isla was weakening, perhaps because he needed a new puppet to master, he met the boy's eyes with his soulless button ones. The boy would know one thing that was not fake.

"No," he said pleasantly. "That is not my name."

Adrik blinked. "Oh. Then... what should I call you? Puppet is kind of on the nose, considering... well, this." He gestured between the two of them.

Indeed it was.

So Puppet looked up and he said, "You may call me... Father."

The piece of Isla inside him gave a final shudder, then fell still. Dead. Culled.

Father's fabric lips stretched in an enormous grin. The stitches popped. The soul shook.

Adrik's eyes went wide.

And a moment later, a puppet lunged for his throat.

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Kendo Miyazaki Satou wasn't having the best day. He absently tapped his index finger aginst the cold wall of the cell he was locked in.

He hated this.

he absolutely despised this.

And the worst part?

The floating, semi-transparent screen in front of him was taunting him with every word that appeared on it.

He knew it was too good to be true.

And it looked like he was right.

God, he missed not worrying about people and relationships.

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well, not exactly.

He really just missed having a family.

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She really did love her. She loved Isla, and she loved Kendo. She wanted to love them both until her heart gave out, and she could no longer love anything at all, which she knew was bound to be soon, so she loved while she could, while she had the smallest fraction of freedom to do so. The warmth of her presence washed over Isla and the entire room was coated in a soft magic that seemed to make it glow while they kissed. It was only when she pulled away a while after that she smiled sweetly and wiped away Isla's tears, wrapping her arms around the girl's neck and pulling her into an embrace. "Don't cry..."

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Hm.

That made it slightly better.

But through about an hour of soul searching, he realized that he didn't want love.

Well, not really.

He just wanted a family again, he thought.

This place wasn't doing much for him.

He stared at the screen in front of him, his hand resting under his chin, propping his head up.

He was tired.

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