Pilot [3]366Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvN8JCLa6Wy
The Cherry Blossom amongst the Frost366Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡalntqdI4zu
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Pilot was awoken that morning to a cup of cold water to the face. Kat in the bunk below grumbled of the same rude awakening. He peeled open his eyes and sat up, banging his head on the ceiling. Violet stood by the bunk, fully dressed in her MUNC attire, holding a cup in one hand and the other on her hip.
“Morning sweet-hearts, Creed’s called Unite Four to assemble in the Dojo. C’mon lazy-butts, get dressed we gotta move,” Violet said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Pilot squinted his sleepy silver eyes at her and knocked the cup, splashing the remaining water in Violet’s face. She spat the water out and said, “Oh, real graceful.”
Without warning Vi then took a fistful of his black shirt and yanked Pilot off the top bunk, half-landing with a stagger that toppled himself and Vi onto the wooden floor.
“Oh, you dick-brain. By Haine, get some clothes on,” She said, grabbing his uniform which had been laying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and tossing it in his face.
Privacy between Kat and Pilot wasn’t an issue, as Kat would dress in the cramped bathroom and Pilot would dress near the bunk. There was only one problem. And that one problem took the form of an invisible young adolescent girl in a dress of silken white, her face hidden by a gas-mask, her sing-song voice muffled as she whistled a tuneless song. She lay on her belly on the top bunk, legs up in the air going up and down as she traced patterns into the blanket. Privacy had grown even scarcer when Pilot had discovered he could communicate with her through a simple thought.
Elise? Pilot thought, righting his jacket and pulling his gloves on to hide the Midnight Crow.
“Hmm?” Elise said in reply, her attention still fixated on the spot on which he’d slept.
Why won’t you go away? I don’t want to be insane. I don’t want to hear voices in my head saying they’re here to protect me, or to see you every waking moment. Pilot thought solemnly, even the voice of his consciousness was hushed for whatever reason.
“Well, if you don’t want me here just say it.”
Pilot looked up to the bunk, and she was gone.
Kat and Pilot we’re the last two to arrive at the Dojo. Naoki, Icho and Violet were already there, lined up together at the very back. The two joined them, slipping in as subtle as they could. Out front, Creed stood alongside a man who looked as if he’d seen many a battle and come out more alive than beforehand. He had a thick layer of grey stubble, which was where the hair on his head had disappeared to. For a man titled with The Three Horned Unicorn, he was surprisingly short. Though of course, anyone would look short standing next to Commander Veltine, with the way he towered over everyone and anyone. Irin the Hefty stood on the other side of Veltine, hefty and broad-shouldered as his name suggested.
Director Creed yammered on about something to do with the Autumn Regiment, and he supposed the men out front were the leaders of this particular regiment. Pilot couldn’t quite pay attention, as it was divided between trying to catch a proper glimpse of Veltine and Icho and Kat’s whisper-fight.
“It’s not exactly plausible for a unicorn to have three horns. Uni means one, obviously. So what sense does it make to be a three horned-one-horned mythical horse?” Kat whispered to Icho.
“The title isn’t about being a literal unicorn. It’s about being even more impossible than the impossible,” Icho hissed back, his voice louder this time.
The argument on the stupidity or supposed ingenious of the title continued, and Pilot continued to try and look around the stupidly tall trainee in front of him. That was, until the Director stopped talking. Icho and Kat fell silent, but not soon enough. Through the walkway between the two columns of squadrons, Creed walked, hands knotted behind her back, chewing on her lip. Her footsteps echoed around the chamber until she made it to the very back. Until she stood before Pilot’s squadron.
“Youngbloods.” She addressed them. The Director stood there for a moment and examined each of them. She then pointed to Pilot, Violet and Naoki.
“You, you and you. Follow me.”
Pilot felt his insides grow cold and twist painfully. Irin and Ulthryn the Three Horned Unicorn, commanders of the Autumn Regiment watched on. Irin stepped forward.
“Youngbloods, do you know how cold it can bloody-well get outside these walls?”
Incoherent whispers amongst the trainees arose in reply until Irin shouted for them to file into the hallways. Pilot, Naoki and Violet followed close behind the Director whilst the squadrons filed behind led by Irin and Ulthryn. Pilot laced his hands together and held them over his stomach, and risked a quick glance at the others. Naoki was stony-faced, but the twitch in his tensed jaw gave away his nervousness. Violet held her hands behind her back, but she couldn’t focus on anything and kept glancing about, her walking awkward as if she was too conscious of every step she took.
The Director led them through the halls and out into a frozen courtyard, uncared for and mostly in icy ruins. Even in their uniforms, the cold still seeped through and bit deep into their skin. Pilot felt his lips go dry and begin to crack, and felt a nervous ripple in his throat when he spotted the post in the middle of the courtyard, lengths of rope tied to the top. The trainees gathered behind them, shivering. Pilot started when Violet took his hand, her warmth extended from her hand up his arm to soothe his frozen core.
“Pilot…” She whispered, her breath clouding.
“Vi, it’ll be ok,” Pilot said, trying his best to smile sincerely.
Violet furrowed her eyebrows, looking to Pilot.
“Don’t be stupid.”
The Director Creed stood before them, still and postured as if the cold didn’t bother her. Pilot supposed she was just as cold on the inside as it was outside.
“You took six minutes of my time, Youngbloods. Now you’ll stay here for sixteen minutes,” She said with a simple motion. Pilot gasped when a Valkyrie kicked out his legs, and he fell to his knees. Two more Valkyries did the same to Naoki and Violet. The Valkyrie grabbed a fistful of his cloak and tore it off him, and Pilot struggled in vain as he ripped off his jacket and tore his shirt in two. He continued to thrash about when he saw the Valkyrie holding Violet down, ripping off her cloak, jacket, shirt, and then her bra.366Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4DsL0X0LjV
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“Violet!” Pilot screamed over Icho’s own furious cries as a Valkyrie punched Naoki square in the face, sending him to the ground.
“Pilot…” Violet sobbed, her face pressed into the snow. The Valkyrie took Pilot by the neck and dragged him over to the post, half-stumbling half-dragged. Naoki and Violet were treated the same, their wrists tied together by the rope attached to the pole crusted with frost. Pilot raised his head, his rapid breaths fogging just as quickly as they dissipated.
Why…why do this? None of us ever asked to come here. I never asked to be fudging abandoned by my disappearing act of an uncle. It wasn’t our fault we had to become three kings, we did what we had to survive. It wasn’t our fault…it wasn’t our fault…it wasn’t…it wasn’t my fault…
“We never ask for anything Pilot. We receive. It’s what we do with what we’re given that decides what kind of life we’ll lead,” Elise said standing beside him, holding her hands behind her, bent over so she could whisper into his ear through the ventilation in her mask. Pilot ignored her, and looked to Violet. He could see the absolute humiliation and quickly fading dignity in her face. Even though he was without a shirt, Pilot couldn’t imagine what it was like for her, positioned like that before the entirety of unit four.
“Vi, Vi, Vi look at me!” Pilot hissed under his breath. She could barely look him in the eye.
He meant for the look in his grey eyes and his words to be a gentle caress along he shaking jaw, but it came out more like taking her jaw in a relentless grip, forcing her broken eyes to meet his.
“Vi, find some place nice. Some place warm. Forget about this, forget about what’s happening right now. Crawl inside your memories and find someplace warm,” Pilot said. And with that last word, the crack of a whip snapping in the air replied. Everything went into shock when he felt the tongue of the whip rip open his back.
For the first three lashes, all he could do was scream. They whipped them out of time so the three could hear each other’s screams. Kat did his best to hold Icho back from ripping the nearest Valkyrie apart. By the fourth lash on the fourth minute, Pilot crawled inside his memories.
He slunk away into the only warm memory he had. It was one of him and his uncle, and a tea shop. Pilot had only been ten at the time, but he remembered the place well enough. The roof was in a sort of dome shape and the walls were clay-like. The age of the place was clearly seen through the fissures and slight cracks in the walls. Even the painting of the cherry blossom tree that stretched across the entirety of the dome roof, its petals raining down the walls, was fading. Oh, how Pilot loved that Cherry blossom tree. Whenever Pilot told Bass how desperately he dreamed of someday seeing one in real life, Bass had brushed it off. He hadn’t meant to be mean, but it had hurt the young thirteen year old Pilot. He knew Bass just simply didn’t understand. Bass and Leo had always dreamed of the Capitol high above them, of some nice apartment in the Residential District.
Yet Pilot…he’d never dreamed of something more than himself. Simply because he didn’t know how. In his comics Pilot had escaped to a world that wasn’t his, and he’d never seen anything wrong with that. The yearning Pilot had to find a Cherry Blossom Tree also tied heavily to go far away. Dordathion was snow, Alps and creatures that none had yet bested, but…it was someplace else. And like his comics, it may as well have been another world.
Yes, the Teashop and its almost-real Cherry Blossoms was a warm memory. A memory Pilot clung to, and refused to let go of.
~ ~ ~366Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOkTFIZTrHf
It was almost as if no time had passed when Pilot woke. There was real warmth in this room, and for that he as unfathomably grateful for. His entire torso was bound with bandages, with foul smelling poultice layered on the padding over his back. Pilot could move, yet it felt as though frost still clung to the gashes across his back.
“Ah…good to see you’re awake dear.” A woman with orange hair bright as the damn sun with the calloused, nimble hands of a healer smiled and wonderful smile and patted the top of his head. She looked to be in her early thirties with sharp brown eyes.
“You’re the one that patched me up?” Pilot croaked, his throat dry as if he hadn’t used it in days. He sat up, stretching his legs out on the side of the fur-blanketed bed.
“Well, yes. It is my job. But…it seems you’re doing remarkably well on your own to be up as fast as you are,” She added, tapping an instrument to her bottom lip.
“How…how long have I been out?” Pilot said, straining as if the very effort of speech was demanding.
“A day, nearly two. Your friends…I expect will be out for a few more days. My name’s Samir, by the way,” She introduced herself, shaking his weak hand.
“Pilot…” He sighed, clutching his side. Samir pulled out a needle filled with some transparent liquid.
“Now you’re awake, I’ll give you a shot to prevent any infection,” She said gently, pressing the needle into his wrist. Pilot winced slightly, the muscles in his arm tensing. Trying to ignore the pain Pilot looked around the room, and found himself in some sort of healers den. The hearth was alive, roaring and flickering its yellow and orange tongues extending its warmth around the black-walled room and the beds layered with furs. Across the room, Violet and Naoki lay in their beds under mounds of furs. Samir slipped the needle out as if it were nothing and Pilot brushed away her hand and hobbled over to Violet, leaning most of his weight on his left leg.
Pilot rested a hand on her shoulder, finding her cold to the touch. She was completely under, so Violet didn’t react when he massaged the frozen muscle and, running a thumb up the tail of a scabbing scar and up back of her neck and tucking a few strands of stray hair behind her ear.
“It’s not my fault,” He said, pulling the fur blanket up.
Samir, without a word threw a cloak around his shoulders.
“It’s not exactly what I’d suggest, but you’ve been discharged on the commander’s orders,” She said.
“Creed released me?” Pilot wondered, pulling the cloak close with one hand.
“No, not Creed. He came in earlier, gave you a quick glance and prohibited me from running any tests on you. With the way your wounds healed I suspected you might be a strong carrier of the werewolf gene, but I can’t know for sure without Veltine’s permission,” Samir explained.
Veltine? He must know about my healing abilities…could he possibly know about Elise? But why prohibit her from doing tests on me?
“The rest of your squadron should be in the mess hall. I suggest you get something good and wholesome to eat,” Samir said with a slight smile.
“Thank you, Samir,” He smiled weakly.
He shuffled through the halls and to the mess hall, the same, golden hall they’d entered before. A long, rectangle window to the left of the hall served the hot food to the trainees, with many metal trestle tables dotted about the hall. They were enough to seat five, positioned in a manner to promote a closeness amongst the squadron members. Kat looked to almost be on the verge on tears when he spotted Pilot. He vaulted over the table and threw his arms around Pilot until he realised how hard he winced.
“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to. Glad to see you’re at least semi-better!” Kat yelped, hugging him close.
“Yeah. It’s good to be back,” Pilot croaked, patting Kat’s head.
Kat helped him over to the trestle table, and there they sat. Icho didn’t say a word but scraped Kat’s plate contents onto his, and shoved it over to Pilot. Bread and a stew of mutton, potatoes and vegetables. Pilot couldn’t imagine anything better. He exchanged a look with Icho, who just gave him a small nod, and began stuffing his face with bread and stew.
"What happened to you guys...the w-whipping. That wasn't Creed just being cruel. She did that to make an example of you. From what I hear from Leo and Bass, she did the same to the other Units," Kat explained, thrumming his fingers thoughtfully on the metal.
“They wouldn’t even let us see you guys on the first day. Every day we tried to get in and see you but these two Valkyries stood guard 24/7, wouldn’t let us even take a look to see us if you guys were alive,” Kat sighed, curiously watching Icho eat an entire potato.
“But, the redheaded lunch lady kept us up to date,” Kat added.
“Wait – red head - lunch lady?” Pilot exclaimed through a mouth-full of stew and bread. He looked to the rectangle window and to his absolute astonishment found Samir serving the trainees trays of stew and bread. Pilot swallowed his food and swore, “What the fudge-cake?”
Samir gave him a wave with a pair of tongs. Dumbfounded, Pilot started when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to face three young, pretty girls, trainees, looking to be the same age as him. Pilot took a deep breath.
“Um…hi?” He said almost too quietly.
The blonde girl smiled and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Hey, Pilot is it?” She said almost shyly.
“What you did back there was really brave!” Her freckled friend interjected excitedly.
“Wha- I…” Pilot began.
“I mean, you’re hurt right? We can totally give you a massage or something?” The third ebony haired friend smiled.
Pilot stood, and bumped the trestle table behind him, its contents rattling. He shuffled awkwardly out from the seat and stumbled away. Flustered he mumbled, “I-ah…I’ve gotta go…um…” Pilot wandered over to a doorway and pushed open a random door and staggered down the staircase. He didn’t put much though into where exactly he was going, all Pilot knew was that he had to be somewhere. And so he walked and walked until he stumbled upon the kitchens. The sudden scent of garlic snapped him awake. And the sight of Commander Ace Veltine. In an apron. Making stew.
“Oh…ah, sorry –” Pilot stammered, stepping back.
Ace waved the kitchen knife about, saying, “So you’re the guy who got tied to the post on his first day?”
Somehow this was more frightening than before.
“Uh…yeah,” Pilot said, nervous. Ace turned from the pot of soup and flicked the knife in his hand.
“You’re not gonna survive, kid,” Ace said.
“You don’t know me. I’ll survive,” Pilot protested, suddenly angry.
That’s when the knife in Ace’s hand was flung across the room, directed at Pilot’s head. Pilot dodged it by an inch, feeling the rush of the blade rushing past his temple. Pilot stared at his reflection in the blade. He looked to Ace, wide-eyed, his heart racing.
Ace’s crimson eyes gleamed, and he gave Pilot a crooked grin.
He cocked his head and said, “Maybe.”
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