"No," he said in the sternest voice he could muster up. "You cannot come."

She continued to pack. "Go fuck yourself."

Andor sighed, staring at the wall as he tried to keep his patience which seemed to be getting increasingly harder with age. "Andy you were not designated to-"

Her room wasn't as neat as his. Drawers were untucked, and papers weren't put away, and clothing seemed like it just got thrown instead of organized. Andy was nothing like Hope in the slightest. Then again the only reason there room was clean is that he cleaned it.

"Your girlfriend will have a fucking heart attack if she found out you went alone," Andy continued to pack, and he couldn't argue with logic.

"She only sees the worst in people," he mumbled. "That's why she'll worry no matter what."

Andy tried to keep her laughter to herself, but it didn't work.

"What?" Andor asked.

He backed up, giving the very tall Andy room to put her hair up in a bun. She untucked some curls, making sure they could cover her ears that would need protection from the damp cold of constant rain.

Andy took her brown backpack with the scribbles on it. She had carried it around - forever. At least since Andor was born, which was only about six years, but still.

"Maybe you just don't like to see the bad in anybody." She swung the backpack over her shoulder, and presumptuously walked out of the room.

"Lock the door on your way out!" She called back to Andor who was begrudgingly following after.

"Monsters are made, not born," He spoke one of his lifelong mantras to her. Some piece of advice that got him through life.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah. What book did you get that from?" She asked.

"Steve."

Andy's face got paler. She stopped in her tracks, but her stubborn ideals switched her away from the original subject. "Oh," she got out weakly.

"Sorry," she said, remembering the fact that Andor didn't have much of a dad other than the drunk farmer with a golden heart. "He - you know - you know we all miss Steve - like a whole fucking lot."

He had had prep time to mull over what it would be like without Steve while incarcerated, and it didn't seem the horrible at the time. What was Steve to him really? A guy who gave him strange metaphors he didn't understand and made fun of his eating preferences. Now that he was gone, it was different. There was a feeling in his stomach like a hole had been dug, and no one understood, not even his aunt.

Andy had won the argument.

"Lets go," he tried to put some happiness into it but his optimism was rusty, so it came out like a monotone answering machine.

They walked a few more feet down the hall before guilt really started to tug at Andy's heartstrings, which took a lot. Seeing the kid she watched run around the streets like nothing in the world could ever be wrong, now somehow a broken adult, did just that.

"I mean, I don't know what I'm saying," Andy shrugged, shoving her pried down her throat as best as possible. "I haven't dealt with a tyrant, not really. Not even a shitty parent. My mom died before she could even begin to be shitty." She let out a little laugh to clear the air.

Andor smiled, like a compliment or a subscript. It really meant nothing.

"No one else in this whole entire world is more capable to do this than you," and her words were genuine because she believed them to be genuine. The universe believed them to be genuine. "Your the smartest person here. Actually smart - like - what humans were meant to be before greed and depression fucked it up."

He shook his head at the ground. "I'm no God, Andy."

She smirked, staring at the iron barred doorway. Allyssa the little shit was always trying to escape them, but it never worked. Although a courtyard was outside, it was never enough for her. She was an adventurer at heart. Andy had pity for that. She even asked to come on this adventure, and Andy almost said yes.

Andor stood beside he. He was an adult now. A young adult - but an adult. It was strange. It was his fate was to grow up to be a leader, but he hadn't. He was more than what leaders were. He was what leaders were supposed to be, so with logic, he could never be a leader. He had to be more.

"Well, you should be."

Andor tried to hold back a laugh, not giving her the satisfaction. This time his smile was not a subscript, but the beginning to their own book.

The rain made it impossible to actually go outside, giving everyone more of a reason to be tense. It poured down hard, pelting the ground with bullets. The grass and dirt slowly eroded away.

After I did all I could for Jordan and Tucker, which wasn't a lot, I headed down to the courtyard. I couldn't go outside, but I could stare at the rain and that was a bit distracting.

In the dim understory of the doorway sat a figure, barefoot and letting her feet get wet. Most of the time I would leave. People didn't communicate to me and I didn't communicate. This certain person always had been different.

I still had a hard time understanding this love idea. I understood friendship and love, but romance and passion was a mutated emotion that mortals weren't supposed to feel in the first place.

My teammates like Hope, Tucker, and Jordan made it look so easy. They stumbled along like baby deer blushing and kissing and professing undying love to others.

Understanding who you were in love with was obvious. It was the reason I wasn't walking back to my room to read a book and abandon the nature idea. I felt obliged to go and comfort her. It was my duty.

"Martha," I said, my voice weak. I hadn't talked to much of anybody all day.

She shot her head backwards to look at me. Her hair was back in a braid, and she looked a lot younger than she acted. "Oh my goodness! You scared me!"

"Sorry." I observed her face to see what I should say next. Her words themselves were frightened, but she said them with a laugh.

She stared back out into the bleak courtyard. The birds were asleep, their songs gone. Everything was just rain and mud, dreary and sad.

"Please sit with me?" She asked, although it was obviously a command - or a test.

I sat beside her. My shoes were on, and now getting dirty, but it was fine. I didn't care that I would have to clean them because I was preoccupied with something else.

She cleared her throat, her eyes dewy. Her breath came out cracks like she was holding back a lump in her throat.

"Martha-?"

"I heard Andor talking about Steve," She got out quickly, and suddenly she was staring at me and I was expected to give an answer.

"Well - um," I stuttered. "Isn't that a good thing?"

She held her head in her hands. It obviously wasn't a good thing because I had said something wrong and she was upset.

"I've never discussed it with him," she stated.

I still didn't understand. Discussed what? Death. Not much to that. He was dead. Sadly, dead.

"Is that bad?" I asked, hoping for an answer.

A small smile formed on her face, which made me unexplainably happy. I had done something right for once, and that was good.

"For an immortal being, you aren't very bright in being alive."

"I was trapped with a bunch of pretentious other immortal beings for thousands of years," I mused. "I'm surprised I turned out this normal."

She now stared at me and I wanted to do that whole love thing and stumbled and blush and kiss and whatever other mistakes mortals made. It sounded nice, and what I had asked for when I stripped away my powers.

"Do you still love him?" I asked something I would probably regret.

"Who?"

"Steve."

Martha laughed to the ground. There seemed to be palpable distance again. "You can't be in love with a dead man."

"Are you done mourning?" I tried to phrase it better.

She tucked her legs under her arms, staring out into the waving trees, leaves thick with rain water. A cool breeze made me want to grab a blanket.

"I don't know if I ever was in love with him," she said, so casually. I think possibly coming to terms with it herself.

"What do you mean?" Most of the time humans just say that as a signal to continue, and I had learned to do it.

Martha shoved her hair out of her face, the breeze getting stronger. "We were always close - Steve and I - best friends. A soulmate, but not the soulmate I wanted him to be."

She shook her head and her eyes got dewy again. I couldn't let her cry. 1.) I would know what to do. I hadn't trained myself and 2.) it could possibly brake my heart that was not accustomed to these bizarre feelings yet.

"If you were there it would have been different because at the time I just needed someone, and Steve was the closest thing to someone. My father had gone on some crazy mission, my mother was missing, and my brother was going insane. I just needed someone, and Steve just wasn't that."

I wanted to ask more questions. If that was why she ran away, or why she stayed with him for so long? Though, my quietness came in handy for once because it wouldn't have been the right time to ask.

She was now folded up in a ball almost, her arms under her legs and her head perched on her knees. She had lived a life and was supposed to be wise, like me, but was faced with a new reality and didn't know what to make out of it.

"I think Andor would have asked you if he wanted to say something. He trusts you."

And although I didn't know if the insight was correct it was enough to make Martha happy.

She kissed me on the cheek, which was small but it was enough to make me realize why humans get so caught up in this love thing.

"Thank you," I proceeded to say because that was the polite thing to do.

Martha now had a permanent smile on her face, and I could rest easy now. Possibly go up and read a book. Or, even better, bring it down here and read it beside her.

"Guys?" Mot asked. He stood beside us. I could hear his footsteps, but I assumed it was nothing. His voice was frantic now, so it must have been important.

"What?" Martha stood up. I followed suit.

Mot looked so frazzled he could have had grey hair. Dianite formed behind him, walking out from the corner. He bit his nails, nervously. A god was nervous.

"Allyssa is missing," Mot breathed out. His child was gone. A whole world crumbling.

I didn't get to finish my book.

The flame surrounded the log and charred it to a crisp. Now the light they had left was glowing coals and Andy's lighter that would run out of oil soon.

"Well shit." Andy had become audible, which only lead to bad things. When she spoke it was because she was getting our pent up anger, which meant she was getting frustrated.

"Do you want help?" Andor only asked this because he had nothing else to say. He couldn't help damp logs become dry and light on fire.

Andy stared at the lighter like she was fighting an enemy. "Just poke at the coals and see if you can get anything out of it."

Andor reached sideways to the pile of wood they had collected before it got dark. The rain still poured outside of the crevice they found. It felt like they had hidden under a waterfall, except more drastic.

He poked at the burning coals with a damp stick, and the situation was just getting worse.

"Shit, shit, shit," Andy, dropping her lighter she decided was worthless, started to fan the coals. "God dammit."

"Andy it's fine. It's not that cold-"

"I don't wanna have to write 'it's not that cold' in your obituary when you freeze to the ground in the middle of the night."

She was being over dramatic and, honestly, it was making him more tired than he had ever been in his life. It was probably a good idea that he went with Andy instead of Liberty because at least she also enjoyed the loudness of silence.

A few more seconds of silence and fanning, and than cursing which had just become part of the silence.

"To be fair. I think you would freeze first," He tried to lighten the mood as the area around them got increasingly darker.

Andy blew her curls from out of her eyes, and she went to the horse and the cart.

"I'm grabbing some paper from a book or something," she grumbled out.

Thankfully, they were both the only Ianite's in the world that didn't sob over the destruction of books.

The cart had been dragged by a tired horse that was now a cold and tired horse. Although it was a cart, they could not use it for shelter because it was not covered. Meaning what they did bring had to be put in waterproof bags. The biggest item they had was a create that included weapons and food. One they could only use if they got a fire.

Andy zipped open her backpack, searching for a book. Andor would have suggested his, but he hasn't even started his and he would not miss a page he hadn't read.

The create shook, and something jingled inside of it against all the weapons.

Andy and Andor both made eye contact with each other.

Andy threw her bag behind her. Slowly and quietly she grabbed one of her pistols out of her holster. She leant it up with both hands, trying to use one of the holes in the crate to see what was happening.

More shaking from the crate. Andy turned the safety off. The gun clicked. The shaking stopped. Whatever was in there had become scared and frozen like a statue.

The box top flew off of the crate and creaked onto the ground. Out popped out the head of Allyssa. Her short curls damp from the ride here.

"Oh my fucking god!" Andy hit her head. Andor's mouth was agape. He had seen them pack and everything-

"I'm cold," Allyssa commented. She had a yellow raincoat on, but her pale green sweater under it was soaked.

Andy was ready to strangle her. "What the fuck!"

"It was raining, so now I'm cold," Allyssa answered with obtuseness, having no idea that she was in more trouble than imaginable.

Andy clenched and unclenched her hands, murmuring some mantra that was supposed to help her temper. It wasn't working, though.

Allyssa corked her head to look outside the rock shelter. "It's still raining."

"Your father is going to kill you." Was the first thing Andor said after his frozen ground comment.

Allyssa sighed, being fully aware of that. "I was bored," she said, which wasn't a very good excuse.

Andy and Allyssa started to argue. Andy on responsibility, Allyssa on adventure. They both were stubborn and tired and not giving up there ground.

"You do realize we are too far to be able to take you back and fulfill this mission."

"That's why I hid out in this create for so long."

Andy wrapped her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Now I have to take you back! You little shit! Andor's meeting is life or death! Do you want him to go alone?!"

The coals started to pulse. Andor stared at them for so long that there light moved with the headache that was starting to form. Each beat of his thriving head added to the heat of the coal, it seemed.

"I want to help!"

"I - ugh - I," Andy was so angry she couldn't grasp words. "Excuse me! You are fourteen! Fourteen!"

"Ugh," Allyssa whined out. "I'm getting older! I need to learn it anyway!"

Andor started to lean his head on his hands for support. His eyes desperately wanted to shut, but they had to stay open. He watched the coals. There non existent heat started to exist as he concentrated more on there color and pulse.

"This is a crazy tyrant murderer!" Andy flung her hands up in the air. "It is not a driving test!"

They continued to argue. This didn't help with Andor's head that was practically singing to him out of pain

"Hope did things like this when she was younger-!" Another phrase.

"Which is a great example why you shouldn't be!" And a counter argument.

The flames grew. An outline was drawn. The colors imagined. They waved, the flames. Bouncing up and down with energy and warmth. That what they were supposed to do. That's what they were going to do.

The fire pit burst into flame.

A huge puff and burst of light stopped the arguing.

Andor held his hands in front of his face, and although his eyebrows might have been burned off he still felt optimistic.

"I fixed the fire," he tried to get out.

Both girls had no words for once.

"Is this the traveling party." A voice travelled into the crevice with the noise of falling rain.

Andy, with her pistol still out, pointed her gun to the strangers.

They were pale haired and pale faced, even if they weren't white, with brown bags that's they all had with them. They had an unearthly glow to them that intrigued Andor as much as his head would allow him.

"We felt a great presence in this area," the leader of the pack spoke out. He was young - 15 to 16.

"We would like to help."

I felt selfish being sad and scared because I had put Jordan through this countless of times. Being knocked out was my hobby at this point. I knew it wasn't. It would be selfish not to be scared, but my brain and beating heart believed two different things.

My eyes hurt, and my stomach churned. I picked at my jean tears to the quickness of my breath.