Namir has one hand shading his eyes, the other holding a cigarette; it’s been burning for a couple moments now without a drag, threatening to die if he doesn’t move. The sky above should be starred, clouds casting shade over the ground as they move past the moon. Yet there’s no hiding from that moon, no stars to remind them they’re on Earth at all.

It gets to be a lot when one looks up a little too long, just as when one goes out of the cul-de-sac in search of elsewhere. He was the first of the Shards to learn this, wasn’t he—

He hears someone approach but doesn’t take his hand down, even when they speak.

“What’s up, man?”

It’s Mikael.

After a moment, he puts his hand down, drags off the smoke. Mikael’s countenance bears only a little concern; Namir can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s not that he’s especially strange, it’s just that his easy-going nature seems a stark contrast to how high-strung the others can be.

Mikael hasn’t really gone through it yet, it seems.

Namir doesn’t dwell on this, instead offering the cigarette filter first to Mikael.

“Just trying to figure out the superpower bullshit.”

Mikael takes the smoke, sits beside him on that bench in the backyard.

“Doesn’t feel real, right?” he goes, “Like we’re stuck in some weird-ass dream.”

“Yeah.”

Mikael offers the smoke back, exhaling through his nose. Namir takes it and drags off of it again. Silences shared with Mikael have never once been awkward; when they’re alone, at least. They’ve built up something close to a rapport, through a casual communion of cigarettes — and once, liquor that the other settlers had hoarded.

“Camille being awake and around helps jog the memory some.” Mikael notes, “Remembered something kinda dope when I was out front with Laika.”

“Yeah?” Namir finds genuine interest in that, but he can’t help his disinterested tone, sounding more like he’s a little inconvenienced. Mikael doesn’t seem to be bothered, instead continuing as he leans back on the bench.

“Yeah. I remembered the last incarnation, or at least that’s what it felt like.” he toys with a loc, “In that weird way you just sorta know shit, y’know.

“It was just you and me outside like this, but after some kinda gig at Zephyr’s. Me, you, and the sibs had a house together and we had bands come by sometimes.” he says, “Think we were high or something ‘cause we just kept geekin’.”

“Sounds about right.”

The statement sneaks out of his mouth as the memory clicks in his own mind; it’s true in the ancient part of him, as though Mikael was just telling him something about himself he had learned the other day. His height or his favorite color.

“It was … peaceful.” he had to search for that word, like he forgot momentarily that peace was even a thing one could attain, in stark contrast to the tension that’s been blanketing them warm and true since they woke up.

Namir stubbornly doesn’t let that thought take hold — for now, at least.

“Imagine that.” he snorts, and after a beat he tacks on, “Sounds like something we could all use.”

Mikael does not say they’ll get there again — because how could he know? How could they win? He doesn’t say anything else, either, and it’s from the uncharacteristic silence that he screws his eyes shut tight.

“Ow, fuck.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You all right, man?”

“Headache. Real sudden.” he says tightly, “‘Cause what else can go wrong here?”

Namir doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, for a couple moments.

“Should I get Laika?”

“Naw.” he inhales sharply, plainly in quite a bit of pain, “I’ll get ‘em.”

“… All right.” Namir says awkwardly, “But I’ll come with you, I don’t like how sudden that was.”

Mikael says nothing, only standing and stumbling a little; Namir is quick to stand up himself after snuffing the smoke, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, I got you.”

Together they move down the rickety stairs and into the bunker. Several pairs of eyes glance up at the pair, and someone speaks from the corner.

“What’s wrong now?”

It’s a tired tone and a shock-concerned one all at once; what a feat, to be able to sound absolutely exhausted and alert all at once.

“Mickey needs to lie down or something. Where’s Caleb?”

“Yo, Mickey?” Mikael asks through the pain with a short laugh; but then his voice tightens up out of pain again, “Ow. Didn’t know we were on a nickname basis.”

Truthfully, the nickname snuck into his throat and bubbled out of his mouth like boiling water, like something ancient rose up and heated it right out of him; he swears at himself internally at the show of familiarity, now embarrassed.

“Shut up. I’m gonna lie you down and find Caleb.”

So he moves to the closest room; Camille and Zephyr share a quiet conversation, until they look up and see the pair.

“What happened?”

“Who knows? More Shard bullshit.” Mikael groans as Namir sits him down on the free couch; he lies back instead of down, “Sick of this already.”

Namir grimaces, “I’ll be back.”

And then he goes off in search of Caleb. He very pointedly doesn’t think about anything in his search except to try to remember their glorious leader’s usual whereabouts.

He heads to the front yard, where he’s standing next to Laika.

“Hey, something’s happening with Mi … Mikael.” he goes, grateful that he managed to dislodge the nickname from his mouth, “He’s got a headache and he’s pretty wobbly. He just remembered something so it’s probably that kind of bullshit again.”

“Take us to him,” Caleb says immediately, and the trio walks down through the home into the basement, into the room where Mikael is. Camille and Zephyr haven’t moved, but Mikael seems to have disappeared.

“Where’d he go?” Namir asks, brow furrowed, mind spinning with wonder like a merry-go-round.

Then he blinks, and Mikael is there again; it’s as though he was there the whole time, but Namir had somehow overlooked him. Caleb and Laika startle just like Namir does.

“What the fuck—”

“I don’t know either,” Mikael says, “I think it’s one of my … My powers, not anything bad. Doesn’t feel bad.”

Caleb steps forward a little, “Can you control it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Show me again.” he says, intense and intent like he says everything else. So Mikael blinks out of view entirely again, and the suddenness of it is surprising enough that they all look around once more, as though he’s hiding on the ceiling.

“Fuck. I don’t know if I like that.” Zephyr mumbles, passes a hand over his face. He visibly shudders.

Mikael blinks back in again, and there’s a palpable feeling of relief over the room. In his absence, he left only unease and questions. Now that he’s back, the questions pile up higher and higher.

Caleb speaks first, “Where do you go when you blink out?”

“Still here, just … Invisible, I guess.” he sits forward, then grins, “Headache’s gone, though.”

“Of course.” Namir huffs, “At least you can control yours.”

“I wonder … I wonder what’ll be different between us and what’s gonna be the same.” Camille says thoughtfully, and Namir notices she’s doing a better job at seeming calm now, compared to her usually shaken self. At least, that’s how she’s been since waking up.

Namir can recall that, once upon a time, she was a woman of composure and grace.

“Can you remember anything yet, Laika?” Caleb asks; Laika is evidently deep in thought, eyes turned unseeing towards the floor. They turn stones over and over in their mind, and Namir waves a hand in front of their field of vision; the silences get to him.

They swipe at his hand, hiss, “Stop, I’m trying to remember.”

He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I think that there’s more differences than similarities. At least, that’s what I feel, you know? They all have something to do with your … Your,” they gesture, searching for the words; with the way they’re talking — quickly and a little stumbly — Namir can tell their mind is moving a million miles an hour, far too fast for their mouth and hands to keep up, “Y’know, your realms. Grief and Reticence and all.

“So I feel like that’s how you get access to ‘em. Camille was remembering her sibs when she did her thing, not sure what Mikael was going through when … When he blinked out.” they turn to him expectantly; he rubs at his chin.

“I … Hm. I think we were talking about some heavy shit.” he says, “Don’t remember what, but I do remember I couldn’t say anything ‘cause it was real weird to talk about.”

“That’s sort of like reticence.” Caleb cuts in smoothly, “Not conscious, but forced. Perhaps it has to do with being sort of backed into a corner, in a way?

“Camille was flooded with her grief, I’m sure, and it seems as though Mikael couldn’t say anything when the situation called for it.”

Namir furrows his brows, “How the hell do you access something like that with Ambivalence? Or Diligence, or Veils?”

He tacks on the last two, a touch frustrated and certainly bewildered at the thought. Does the Ink expect him to emotionally vacillate his way into throwing fireballs at them … ?

Laika shrugs, “Dunno about those ones. I’ll think on it; you guys should rest up a bit.”

“… All right.” he says it a beat late; Laika parts from them without further ceremony, and Caleb — ever the sage — turns to Namir.

“You’ll learn. You always do.” there’s a small smile there, and Namir isn’t sure he feels reassured.

All he can do is nod and look away.

Learning is all that can be done for now; the action has to wait, much to his growing frustration.

He ends up smoking half a pack before sleep takes him once more.