Sunlight rained into the kitchen with ease. Flooding the room strides away with unneeded light. Mel always held a candle near when the lights fled. Nothing new of course, that is simply the kind of person she is. Always prepared and always perfect. Weather it be being on time or brushing her hair. Uza believed the trait often hid her less benevolent sides, and sometimes even predatory. The ground trembled at least twice a month near our area. Too close to the pretender's playground, where he attends to his plenty of soon to be failed experiments for his coming climb for power. A widely known secret. Uza's teeth grinded as her gaze remained in her plate, and her fork repeatedly falling downward onto the colored glass and already pierced scrambled egg. Trash. Him, and all who serve. If she could reach them ... If he and anyone alike could feel her wrath-"

"Uza." The girl's chin raised, her sight quickly shifting across the table. Glare and troubled thoughts crumbling along with the act. She had forgotten. This was supposed to be a uncomfortable moment, she was supposed to be uncomfortable. Humans and their rules. The girl eyed the owner of the sole voice, her brow high as if she had no idea of their current predicament. Why were there so many rules ...

The table was filled, excluding one, four seats, two on each side, and each noticeably more quiet then usual. Aside from the words of birds and life outside the home, and Uza's persistent fork, the sound of general use of silverware was all that held place within their walls.

"Have you something on your mind?" Uza returned her attention to her scrambled egg. "You speak of last night?" The woman in stained red kept her glare forward with precision. "I do."

"Then no. Nothing in particular." The sound of a spoon dropping soundly on her plate gained the attention of each pair of eyes at the table. Angie seemed in no mood for games. Not that Uza was playing any, truthfully. In fact, she spoke as one who did not feel like participating in the game. Not that it would be considered. "Where were you, girl. We spent all morning searching for your hide."

"I don't recall Mel having to deal with your searches and emotions, and she leaves for days at a time. Even currently."

"You may as well when you've proven yourself responsible enough."

"Being invited to a institution is proving responsibility?" Angie slammed her palm onto the table, causing a proud thud that called for silence. "Under this roof, yes. It means something. Now think over your actions and finish your breakfast." As called for, silence came, with quick glances Uza could feel from Moot and Serah. The girl continued to pick at her egg, without the aggression, and turned to the blinding window with the back of her hand beneath her chin. She didn't have the worst of it. Some had no food in the mornings. No roof when the ground quaked, no bed when rain came. By no means was she near the best of it either, still, why did this feeling always take hold after brief normalcy. The feeling of being trapped in a cage, a cage that wore a cloak of life. ... Humans.

•

"Keg, where have you been? It's already eight," the friendly voice said while checking his wrist and a polearm the size of himself leaning upon his neck. Keg offered a half hearted laugh as he scratched his head. "Yes... Things have grown quite unpredictable since our second was born. Apologies."

"No issues, friend. Patrols have been postponed anyhow, so no harm done."

"Charter, who is this?" said another at the first's side. "Oh, Vin's replacement. Comes from Jahrin I think, right?" Keg nodded. The second offered his arm which was already covered in steel, Keg returned the greeting with a firm shake. After, the three continued through the building's entrance. Their steps heard well and lone. "You said something about patrol being postponed?" Both fellow men in arms turned to Keg with raised brows.

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"Are you serious?" Charter asked. Keg nodded again as each of their steps slowed while approaching a doorway to their left. "Jahrin must reside under a rock." The first snickered as they entered, leaning his weapon against the wall and finding his number upon the first row of safes. "Give him a break, Mitchel. Those parts are graveyards compared to our quests for rumors and scandal."

"Still, to be one with the snake yet so ignorant is ridiculous, perhaps even dangerous."

"Is this reason truly so well known?"

"Yes," both said in sync. Mitchel not even while facing his direction as he slid on his sturdy cloth of steel. "It's not official," Charter began. "Hell, when something of this scale happens it never is, but there's no doubt in my mind something large occured a few weeks back. Ever since, Lord Maker and his council have been hesitant to allow too many men stray away from the capital."

Keg's brow also raised as he retrieved his uniform and gear from his own personal entry. "Do you have any idea what could cause such caution? I've never heard of these kind of circumstances regarding our banner."

"Probably because it's never happened before, at least with our current leaders. Maybe even the Snake." Keg lowered, tying the ends of his boots while seated on a wooden bench. Charter eyed the man for moment, then turned to his own storage. "Regarding the what: the theories range all over the place. But if I had to make an educated guess, we came in contact with a powerful threat recently. Whether it was an organization or a leader, or if we won or lost, I have no idea."

Keg finished the second knot and rested his arms on his thighs. "Organization, huh. Sounds too interesting for us." Mitchel shut the door to his safe, causing a simple bang to echo in the room, crawling into the nearby corridor. "Agreed," he simply replied.

"Keg, I've been meaning to ask you something." The man turned his head as Charter also closed the door to his equipment. "Why did you become a protector?" Both met eyes after the words left his lips. Without word, Mitchel turned his sight to the new soldier as well. Keg's eyes fell to the dark floor. "You've seen my history."

"You were invited to the Institution Of Evolution at the of age sixteen, yet chose to become a protector with no martial background. I would ask if you are an idiot, but that seems rather unlikely."

"...My mother hated the new regime. Anything associated with a banner she spit on in the name of freedom. "True freedom" she called it." Keg shook his head as his eyes lined ahead upon a wall no more then three steps away. "The real reason is because banners had claimed my father's life. My uncle's, my brothers, and her's... and one day my own as well. She understood the cycle. That's why she took her life I believe, she couldn't stop it. She just wished for peace of mind, I suppose. Freedom."

"Why couldn't the cycle be stopped? If you don't mind me asking. In the end it's nothing more then a trade, right?"

"The only reason I, and my brothers had a life to lose is because the right protector arrived on time. Killed a band of mercenaries turn cutthroats and freed the women. Things like that will always call to me, it's what I want, it's in my blood."

The first swallowed. "I'm sorry, for stirring old wounds." With a deep breath Keg raised, his eyes lingering on the plain wall a moment longer. "It's fine. I've grown since. Sometimes being reminded is humbling." The man turned and reached in his cabin of steel and retrieved his own polearm, it's smooth surface a cherry red, it"s nail freshly sharpened. He stood the weapon upward and eyed it's highest point, the nail. Meeting eyes with his reflection. "Keg." The man turned just as the helm met air, catching it with an open palm. "Heard you were in need of a new one." The man smirked before placing the shield of skin over his eyes, then rotating his neck to test the comfort. It was a good fit. Much better then the one before. "Thanks." Charter hit the floor with the bottom of his weapon. "Don't mention it. Now, we should be going."

Keg began his steps forward, syncing with Mitchel and Charter's own as they returned to the corridors of the west wing. "Your right. We should."