The room key in his fingers felt like both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because gods did Cross hate sleeping alone. The sound of someone else breathing nearby always made a night outside the guild easier to get through. Just their presence seemed to ease the nightmares. It was the main reason he hadn't put up a protest when it had finally come out that due to the Master's late decisions to join Sera had struggled to find them individual rooms.

The curse, however, was that it created a dilemma with his plans for the evening. After all, he was near-absolutely certain that Gideon wouldn't approve of how--instead of sleeping--he intended to find Atlas and explore the capital. Well, explore might have been an exaggeration. The platonic date agreement had only included dinner and drinks.

All of this in mind, the moment he'd reached their quarters for the tourney, Cross dropped his bags and escaped the room. He ducked past the door where he could hear Oren grumbling about privacy--silly, because he knew for a fact the crabby fae didn't mind spending time with Sia--and carefully avoided the following one where Sage and Gideon lingered.

His shadows helped.

They swirled around his feet, spurred on by his mana and the spells drifting through his mind. Controlling them was an almost unconscious ability at this point. After over a decade of practicing, what should have been a draining task barely required an ounce of skill. It did, however, require just enough of his attention that he completely lost track of the stairwell in front of him.

Fortunately--or perhaps unfortunately--when he barreled into someone as a result, they were the one sent flying.

"Fu--" Cross cut himself off. "Gods--sorry, bad habits. Wasn't really paying attention."

Guilt flooded through him as he stooped over to offer a hand. The unlucky kid--a scrawny brunet with a scowl that could rival Oren's--dismissed his help with the barest glance. He climbed to his feet on his own, dusted off his clothing, and sighed.

"I can tell," he muttered.

Cross winced. The icy tone wasn't unfamiliar to him, but it still stung.

"Watch where you're going. You're liable to knock someone unconscious with how gods' damned big you are."

And, that said, the kid pushed past him, seemingly fully intent on cutting off their interaction there. Cross let his hand awkwardly fall as he glanced back, tracking the stranger's path with his eyes. Something tugged at the back of his thoughts--an absent memory, but nothing strong enough to spur him into playing chase.

"I'll do my best," he joked instead. "If you're hurt, second door on the left has a healer behind it."

He didn't stick around to see if the kid listened. If he waited, he was liable to miss Atlas. So, Cross spun back around and darted off to the front desk. The moment he had the information he needed--and a map, not that he bothered to glance at it for more than a second--he was out the door in search of Atlas.

Thank the gods he'd bugged Inan for the inn of the name before they split in Solaris. Between that and his memorization of the map, navigating the capital was a breeze.

'Stargazer...Stargazer...Star--ha.' Cross' tail twitched alert as he spotted the building's hanging sign in the distance. His fingers came up to pose beneath his lips as he approached, tail shifting to curl around his waist.

Now that he was finally here, he realized had no idea if Atlas had even arrived, yet. They hadn't discussed a meeting time or day--just that Cross would find him when he got into town.

Well, it was too late to worry about it, he decided, and started for the door, only to skip back as it swung open before he could touch it. A grin lit his lips, thoughts falling away as the person in question appeared, cutting out any need for him to go searching.

"Lis! Perfect timing," he cheered.

"Oh," Atlas said, backing up a step in surprise. "Cross, it's good to see you again. I take it you're here to collect on my debt?"

"You would be correct. I did my research and everything," Cross announced. "I know no less than five possible restaurants and two bars. What do you like to eat?"

The research consisted of asking what the most popular places were to take someone on a date in town, followed by just good places to eat, but that hardly mattered.

"Oh, I also learned about a popular garden and a hot spring in case you aren't hungry," he continued cheerily. "But, since you only agreed to dinner and drinks, I won't drag you to those." He paused, grin growing. "Although, no promises I won't come find you another day."

"Let's stick with dinner and drinks for today," Atlas said. His hand rubbed the guildmarker Cross could spy pinched between his fingers. It must have been one of the temporary ones handed out for teams that had formed solely for the tourney. Without it, one couldn't participate. "I'll eat almost anything. And I'm treating you anyway, it should be something you want to eat."

Cross hummed to himself, considering the issue. Well, if he was picking...

"Alright. But you're the one who let me choose, remember that," he teased. "The Midnight Rose it is. When I heard about it, I decided it was too similar to pass up. And it sounds just perfectly platonic, doesn't it?"

"Platonic," Atlas repeated, amused. "Sure. Why not? There's nothing inherently romantic about roses, right?" His mouth twitched into a subtle smirk. "You would know better than me, though, what with all your knowledge on the language of flowers."

Cross twirled around as he started leading the way, letting shadows curl around his feet, guiding him so he could walk backwards without a care. His attention stayed on Atlas' face as his teasing smile grew even more mischievous.

Of course Atlas would remember his frantic rambling about flowers back when he'd first demanded the date whilst racing him to the healers'. The camilla corsage he'd requested be worn was conspicuously missing from the mage's wrist--but, he got a pass for that. He'd been half dead when agreeing to it. It was enough that he came at all.

"Well, that depends. Blue roses, like one you might associate with midnight, they're mysterious. All about attaining the impossible. Roses in general, well, they're all about passion. Considered messengers of love, in fact."

Atlas rolled his eyes. "So what's the impossible feat for tonight?"

"Well, your guildmates seem to think that for you relaxing is an impossible feat," Cross mused. "But, you're with me, so that's already fixed."

He hooked his hands behind his head as he thought, ducking out of the way of someone whom his shadows felt behind him. He lit up after a moment. "Ah, I've got it. It's not for tonight, it's for the tourney. The impossible feat is us facing off in the final round. This is an early celebration of that."

After all, many would consider Cross making it to the final round impossible.

"You're tenacious, I'll give you that," Atlas mused. "It's not impossible for me to relax. Find me a body of water and you won't see me again for a few hours."

He side-stepped pedestrians, as well, though his focus kept drifting to Cross' shadows. Was he curious about them?

"And I'd set my sights a little lower, if I were you," Atlas added.

Cross cocked a brow, nonplussed by the pessimism. If anything, it amused him.

"It's supposed to be an impossible feat, no?" he pointed out. "What sort of impossible feat is easily attainable? It has to be that high."

"I suppose that's fair," Atlas conceded, with no small amount of amusement. "Is that the restaurant?"

He gestured across the street where a dark blue sign hung over a stone building. Cross spun around, the shadows dissipating at his feet. A rose was etched in white against the "midnight" background, without any lettering to speak of. His tail tapped his arm as he studied the building, comparing it with the description he got, before he nodded resolutely.

"It should be! C'mon."

Without hesitation, he grabbed Atlas' arm and dragged him inside.

༺♥༻❀༺♥༻

Dinner turned to drinks, and drinks into a present buzz under his skin that had Cross practically vibrating as he lazily leaned his entire frame against Atlas' shoulder. The fuzzy state of his mind--forewarning future consequences given the rapidly approaching tourney morning--eased any weight from his shoulders, as being tipsy always seemed to do.

"Come on, then, we should be getting back. I want to leave before you've forgotten where you're staying for the tourney."

Alcohol loosened his tongue.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"You just don't want to have to resort to letting me crawl into your bed."

"I'd stick you with Inan," Atlas replied absently as he handed the coin necessary to cover their tab over to the bartender, seemingly uncaring as to whether or not Cross caught him in the act. "It wouldn't be much of a punishment, for either of you, but it would let me sleep so I don't really care."

Cross frowned at the coins, but didn't argue. The stolen bill would leave him an excuse to drag the sorcerer out again on another night.

So, instead, he pointedly rattled off the name of their inn in good cheer and peeled himself off of Atlas' side. The act of straightening had him pausing for a moment, blinking away the sudden blurriness to the room, before he offered the man a smug smile.

"I've been told I'm a very good bed partner," Cross stated matter-of-factly as he remembered their conversation. "I'm a cozy space-heater--just so you know what you're missing out on."

"Once again, I don't get cold. Nice try, though," Atlas said, smirking over his shoulder as he began leading the way out of the bar.

Right. The man was a living ice-box. Between his magic and the warm capital, he had no need for shared warmth.

Cross darted forward. He was far less graceful on his feet than usual, but given his usual ease, it simply left him dodging others last second, and leaving a few patrons less than pleased about the bump of a tail or clip of their shoulder.

"What about personal comfort, though," he called. "The warmth that comes by being held by someone else, or just being close to them. You've still got to feel that."

"Don't have much of a need for it," Atlas retorted. "Creature comforts haven't been much of a thing for me in recent years and I'm alright with that."

"You're likely just out of practice," Cross observed as he reached Atlas' side. "Lonely and you don't even realize it."

Atlas shot him a side-eyed study as he opened the bar's door into the cool night air. "You're really overestimating how much I value the company of others."

Cross shrugged, moving to sling an arm over Atlas' shoulders. A thrill of happiness flitted through him as the man didn't bother to push him away.

"Perhaps. Or you're underestimating the pleasure of my company."

"Doubtful," Atlas replied, before pointedly looking elsewhere. "You're charming, but you're not that charming."

Cross laughed. "Fine, fine. If I ever get stranded with you and there's no other bed, I'll sleep with Inan," he agreed.

"Good luck with that. Now which direction is your inn?"

Cross directed them towards the inn, cheerily hanging as close to Atlas as he was allowed as they walked. Thankfully, he hadn't forgotten how to get there, so the walk was as simple as it could be when tipsy. Once there, he lingered at the entrance, a mischievous grin on his lips once again.

"So. Platonic date. That means I don't get to stand still and stare longingly as we say wistful farewells, right?"

He smiled, turning back to Cross from his casual study of the inn. "Get some sleep. You're going to need it."

Cross laughed and leaned against the doorway. He twirled his hand, letting a spell slink through his mind. A twist of shadow broke away from his feet, before wisping along behind Atlas, keeping an eye on the man. It might not have been needed, but it would keep him from worrying about it regardless. That settled, he turned and pushed his way inside the inn.

At first, he had full intentions to simply cross the room and head up to the one he shared with Gideon, but midway he paused, glancing down as something caught beneath his foot. With a yawn, the alcohol finally began settling upon his mind, he bent down to retrieve it. A frown tugged on his lips as he turned the small, metal fox over in his fingers. A guildmarker?

It took longer than it should have for his fuzzy memory to pull up why he should recognize that particular marker. The moment it did, however, icy awareness sent a jolt through his veins. The exhaustion dissipated.

Cross' eyes darted around the lobby with a sudden desperation that should have shocked him. There.

A familiar brunet kid stood at the front desk, leaning his arms on the countertop, face cradled in his palm. A low groan slipped from his mouth as he slowly dropped his arm until his chin, too, laid atop the cool wood. Cross' heart threatened to burst from his chest as he took a moment--just one--to stare at the boy because gods, how hadn't he seen it before?

Sixteen years old, with dusty hair and equally brown eyes, Easton Diamond was exactly as the papers described him. At least, that was Cross' assumption. There was every chance he was wrong.

He had to be wrong. It couldn't be this easy, could it? Shaking his head, he shoved his suspicions deep into the recesses of his mind and remembered how to smile.

"Polar Fox, right?" Cross called as a greeting, his tail curled loosely around his waist.

The kid's head shot up. Sparks glittered around his fingers as he slowly uncrossed his arms, giving Cross an expression that silently demanded explanation. He almost winced, realizing how suspicious he likely looked at that moment.

"Who's asking?"

"Cross," he introduced, purposely dropping his surname. His free hand shot up to his head, carding through his hair as he offered the small fox with his other. "I found this over there--" he gestured, the kid's eyes following his hand, "--and you seem to be the only other person around, so.."

His suspicions returned with overwhelming strength as the stranger dropped his suspicious gaze to the guild marker. His fingers slid down his arm, likely searching for where the marker should have rested within a unraveled looking, braided cord. It really was his, then.

"Thanks." Easton grabbed the fox with a dip of his head.

Had Cross had better control of his tongue, he might have murmured a 'your welcome' and moved on, but as it was, his impulse control was even looser than usual--elven alcohol did that to a person.

"I saw an article on your guild." Subtle. "It mentioned you guys might be competing. I'm in the tourney, too. What's your name?"

He knew it. He did.

But, what if he was wrong? What if he got his hopes up, only for them to be dashed as "Easton" declared himself to be one of the other dozen kids running around Polar Fox's ranks?

Something locked down in the boy's expression. "...Easton."

His mind was in another time, another place as he stared at a ratty newspaper, his mother's voice roaring in his ears as she screamed. 'That bitch! You see this, Cross? This is why we live like this. That asshole wanted a--'

"Which guild are you with?"

He didn't answer right away. Couldn't. All he could think of was that name--Easton.

Easton Diamond.

Cross' tail curled tighter as awareness filled his gaze, which he quickly covered up with a bright smile.

"Starry Rose," he announced. Somehow, his voice didn't crack. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors--and yes, we are that great."

Easton's eyes blew wide at the name. Cross might have laughed had the situation not turned his stomach into a mixing bowl of nails. Of course Easton'd heard the rumors - unless you were living under a rock, everyone in the kingdom had heard of at least one of the guild's misadventures.

What did he think of them, he wondered. Did he believe they were--

"I wouldn't expect you to make it past the qualifying round," Easton said, frowning. "The Coalition let you all compete?"

Faint offense flickered through him, but he kept the smile in place and just laughed. Of course that's what he thought. Easton had no reason to think any differently than anyone else.

"We're not as bad as the papers say," he explained. "We've got a good number of high ranking mages in our number and they do want the best to be competing."

Easton's eyes flicked away, then back to Cross. "Not really my issue either way. Thanks again, I guess, but-"

The clerk chose that moment to appear, bearing a folded blanket in one arm. Easton snatched it away with a muttered word of thanks, then turned to Cross again, gesturing with the blanket. "I got what I came for, so I'll be going."

He started for the stairs.

Not yet.

Cross darted after him, impulse driving him not to let Easton out of his sight. There wasn't really much thought to it--just an instinctual, desperate desire to continue the conversation.

"Wait!"

How did he get the kid to stop?

His tongue moved before his brain, alcohol and anxiety stealing any hesitation he might have had. "My name. I didn't tell you my full name. It's...not official. My mom insisted--It's Ashworth. Cross Ashworth."

Easton stopped dead in his tracks, the blanket clenched tight in both hands. Tongues of flame flickered at his fingertips before he snuffed them out.

Rounding on Cross, the kid all but snarled up at him, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Cross reared back, hands going up.

"I...Cross Ashworth. Not officially."

He hadn't been sure what reaction to expect--but, admittedly, anger had been among them. Despite that, however, there was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Because, even if he'd known...it was funny. He'd hoped perhaps Easton--the last family member he knew of--would have a different reaction.

"Fuck," his half-brother hissed out, curling his hands into fists; a curl of flame blew out from his mouth with the word, and he clamped his mouth shut, speaking through gritted teeth. "...I wouldn't use the name, if I were you. There's nothing to be gained from associating with that bastard. If you're looking to reconnect with him...Then you're an idiot, especially by trying to go through me."

Cross shook his head, grimacing at the idea. Easton wasn't wrong.

Only an idiot would want to meet their father. An idiot--or someone so hungry for power they were willing to sell their soul.

"No, no, I'm not interested in that, I..."

How did he say he just wanted to see Easton, but instead impulsively introduced himself?

"You--We're brothers."

Great job.

"I'm not interested in him."

Just you.

"Lose the interest," Easton said, anger seeming to disappear in an instant. "Go on living like you've never heard of that bastard, and don't seek me out again. It's his blood you're hinging this dumbass connection on and I want nothing to do with it."

He didn't wait for a response, just turned and made for the stairs again. Logic said to linger back--and there was a moment when Cross hesitated--but, impulse one out once again. So, he darted up after Easton, not willing to be left behind.

"I don't want to."

How did he convince him? Was there a way? His hazy mind struggled--and failed--to pull up any ideas. So, he just chased him, shadows swirling aimlessly as his magic shimmered in his fingers alongside his stress--but, falling away as no spells fell from his lips or thoughts.

"Stubborn asshole," Easton muttered, stepping off onto the floor and towards his door. He didn't look at Cross as he fished his key from his pocket and set it in the lock. More audible this time, he said, "I'm doing you a favor, Rose, because clearly I'm just as much of an idiot. Leave. It. Alone. I'm not the doting little brother you're looking for."

"I don't care," Cross stressed. "I don't want a perfect brother or anything. I just..."

How did he explain what he wanted when he didn't really understand it?

No amount of staring at reports and articles while pouring over the little information they contained had explained it to him. He didn't care to look for his mother. He had no interest in his bastard of a father. But, Easton...he'd intrigued him. He wanted to know him.

Perhaps it was because his mother had always had a lot to say about Enoch and his golden child.

"I live at the guild. Just so you know."

Easton's hand tightened around the doorknob. "If Polar Fox ever comes near your guild, you're going to regret ever reaching out to me."

What did that mean?

"Drop it," Easton snapped. He jerked open his door, before slamming it shut behind him. Cross flinched. The handle smoked, near glowering with the remnants of the overflowing fire magic that must have coated Easton's palm.

For a moment, he stared at the barrier, considering pressing it further--but, what would he do? Knock on it until he pissed the kid off further? Break in using the shadows? That would go so well.

So, he sighed, turning his back and running his hand through his hair, stressfully catching the knots and soothing them. Logically, he should go back into his room. But, he smelled like alcohol and was late. Even though Gideon might not say anything, Cross would feel it. The heaviness shifting through his body, the haziness in his mind, all of it spelled poorly for that track.

Then there were the ants in his veins. They spelled for nightmares--which would bring questions he had no intention of facing.

'You understand, don't you? That little bastard brat means we'll never have anything better. Fuck. I should've just killed y--'

Cross turned to a different door.

After picking the lock with his shadows, he slipped over to the bed and caught his best friend's shoulder with his hand. He couldn't help but feel grateful that her roommate seemed to have passed out with no sign of waking anytime soon--being seen would have led to even more questions.

"Sage."

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her name, and she mumbled sleepily into her pillow as she rolled over, batting out a hand at her bedside. "Waverly. Waverly, you feelin' okay?"

She must have assumed the ill fae needed redosed on her medication. Cross didn't say anything, just watching as her hand slapped his stomach and she blearily looked up, before blinking at him.

"Cross?"

She blinked again. Then, she did what she always did.

She scooted over until she was laying at the edge of her bed and opened her arms for him. "You gotta... gotta sleep, big day tomorrow... Thorne needs you in tip" - she yawned again, already sliding back into sleep - "tip top... shape..."

He scrambled into the bed, settling in a familiar way. That was why he liked Sage--she didn't ask--didn't assume he was doing something wrong--she just understood.

"Thank you."

And with Sage's warmth at his side and the alcohol in his veins, he eventually drifted off. Not easily. Not peacefully.

But--he slept.