Silent Departure

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Ambrose breathed in the night air, pleased to be outside . . . and near freedom. Once he was completely free from this school, then he could re-start his life. Replenish his horde of coins, steal from some of the newer banks-- he had been locked in the asylum for so long; it was exciting to think of what new challenges awaited him in the Beyond. Out There.

He turned towards his relunctant companion, still smiling. How could he not, on a wonderful night like this?

"Now," he started, eager to give the command-- remember what it's like, don't do this-- and even more eager to escape, "show me to the boats."

Luppa trailed almost lifelessly along aside Ambrose, his limbs hanging limply by his side, his eyes focused on the floor, and his feet dragging against the floor with each step. Oh, how disappointed his masters would be! But, how disappointed Ambrose would be too if he turned him down. It was a lose-lose situation, either way.

His colourless eyes glowed slightly in the moonlight, and his coat wrapped more tightly around himself. Nights were chilly, they were always chilly. But at the very least, it wasn’t windy, which the dilemma found relief in – he wouldn’t be blown away. He squinted, looking out towards the docks. The sight, he didn’t recognise so much, but the tastes. Oh, so many new visitors had passed by this place! Their feet left weird footprints, too many sizes and shapes to mention, and it was an almost nostalgic thought. These had been their first steps on the island.

Noticing that he’d dozed off in a daydream, he blinked peering around for boats. He knew he musn’t, but he had to. Looking up to Ambrose pitifully, he sent out his wings. The very light breeze had him struggling for balance, but he eventually had a run up of around 4 paces before he leapt up into the air, flying towards the waters edge. His gaze became serious, and it wasn’t along before he came across a few shapes bobbing by the docks. The boats!

They weren’t like any other boats – these were built with the inventive imagination of students. A paper boat floated, a few with a sail, and one with a motor. He turned to Ambrose, waving. “Masteer!” he called. “The boats have been found! They – they do not want to be used!” A last ditch attempt at changing his mind. He looked to the boats, wondering which one he would approve of.

Ambrose watched in amazement as Luppa set off into the starry night sky. It could fly, too-- just like Yuuki, except without any of the grace. Just how many residents of the castle could fly? All the more reason to leave; Ambrose just didn't belong here like the others did. . . . The curse was bizarre, yes, but not to the academy's standard. Besides, once someone knew his name, he was just a human. Although, I have to wonder sometimes . . .

He followed Luppa's flight, eventually reaching the strange boats. He didn't know much about any vehicle, but he knew enough to not choose a paper boat. One was a giant banana, too . . . How in the world did that get there?

"Good job, Luppa!" Ambrose called back to his companion back as he walked throughout the boats. Decisions, decisions . . . Which one would lead him back to freedom? "I'm sure the boats will enjoy the water no matter the passengers!"

That's right. Passengers-- Ambrose had every intention of taking his new servant with him. Luppa didn't need to know that yet, though.

Finally, Ambrose spotted the perfect choice: a simple, wooden sailing craft. It was quite plain, but that wasn't what caught his eyes-- it was the smell, the lingering scent of death. If he was going to be on a boat for a long time, he might as well enjoy the ride. . . .

(( Rein is the winner! : O ))

At the praise, Luppa giggled to himself with a wide smile, knowing he’d done a good job. Ambrose was pleased with him! His feelings of pride were barely restrained, and his felt like his chest would explode from the sheer thought of it.. Wait, pride? Why was he feeling pride?! This was bad, no, this was worse than bad, this was horrible!. In a split second, his overjoyed expression turned to that of morbid despair, and he let out a wail, pressing his palms against his face. The indecision was surely painful.

"A boat is never happy when it sinks!" he spluttered helplessly. He calmed, following Ambrose's line of sight towards the boat. Was this his choice? Feeling inclined to check it out, he stumbled out towards it, leaping. It was more like a lengthy jump than flying, and he crash landed within its wooden frame. He rubbed his head sorely, before looking around to inspect the interior. It was spacious, as well as dry. Not to mention, the sail was already set up, saving their hassle. It seemed a good choice.

For the sake of sating his curiousity, he knelt down, giving one of the seats a big lick. It was horrid - a rotting, horrid taste. It was more than just aged meat - this was outright decaying. He reeled back in disgust. He peeped his head up looking to Ambrose. "This is wrong boat! No good! Doesn't taste like 'yes'." His lip quivering, he looked towards the academy. Would he be returning...? Anxiously, he looked to the rope that was tied to the pier - the only thing that was keeping the boat from drifting away.

Ambrose smiled at Luppa's irrevelant comment. Why in the world would the boat sink? Unless, of course, some outside force wanted it to sink-- but, that was impossible, considering that They had yet . . . to . . .

Why hadn't the Powers That Be interfeered with this voyage? Considering that They had first sent him over to the castle, it would only make sense that They would want to stop him. Why hadn't They, though? Unless . . .

No. No, he couldn't think about that. This was a choice-- and a very good one, too.

"Believe me, Luppa, this boat is perfect." Ambrose knew very well from the smell what sort of 'taste' the boat gave his companion. It certainly was not plesant. "Besides, you have no choice in the matter."

He knew that this next part had to be said-- don't do it, DAMN IT, DON'T-- in order for Luppa to come, but the words-- you are going to REGRET this!-- they just wouldn't--

"Luppa, untie the rope . . . and get on the damn boat," Ambrose barely said, exasperated by the effort to get the words through. Once it was said, though, there was again that feeling of elation, of joy, and all other thoughts faded. . . .

The act was done. They were leaving the island.

They, and no one else.

"Mhhmmm!" Luppa ducked his head unhappily, fully aware of how right Ambrose was. There was nothing that the dilemma could do to go against his nature. All he could imagine was Everly's disappointed face once she realised he was allowing one of her children to sail away. But Ambrose's voice was authoritative, and he found it hard not to comply to anything he said.

At the command, he floated softly towards the pier, looking up to the red-haired boy one last time with an expression that seemed to ask Are you sure? But he almost knew what his answer would be, and began on untying the rope. His claws fumbled momentarily, before he opted for gnawing on it instead, and it took a minute or two before the rope was finally released. The boat - no longer held back - very slowly began to drift outwards. His tiny legs had to hurry to leap back in.

He looked back to the academy, as it slowly seemed to shrink away. A place he'd called home. His eyes widened, and tears started to drip from his eyes, and he didn't even seem to be aware of it. In respect, he took off his hat, holding it against his chest as he stared in uncanny silence, unwilling to look away.

(( Here goes . . . ))

Ambrose watched as Lillegard Island started to peeter away. They weren't going exceptionally fast due to the odd calm of the waves, but the slowly increasing distance sent shivers of glee up his spine. I'm finally leaving. No good-byes were needed, either, for whom would miss him? The entire castle would be joyous about his and Luppa's departure. No one would be upset in the slighest.

He observed Luppa's mourning in silence, attempting to give the creature enough space and respect. Needing somewhere else to look, Ambrose glanced over his shoulder and towards the small port town--

The waves suddenly shook. Storm clouds rumbled as they rolled in. All in an instant.

Ambrose himself braced himself on the side of the wooden boat. NOT good. He was getting sea-sick. But, this weather . . . wasn't natural, was it? It couldn't be--

Lightning STRUCK on the water, sending water spewing everywhere, including the ship's occupants. There was an echo of laughter in the air, a man's but childish.

No. Defiately not natural.

A new figure was now standing on the boat. It was a flamboyant man with long, wild yet pale and fragile blonde hair, parted to reveal striking blue eyes. He wore a black jacket, black fingerless gloves, a tight gray shirt, and criminally-tight pants, light reflecting off the stretched latex to make a shimmer. He also bore various piercings on his ears and, revealed slightly as he spoke, his tounge.

"My darling Entropy," he breathed, grinning with glee, "did you really think you could leave just like that?"

Luppa continued to stare in sorrow, that is, until the moment the boat shook. His tears immediately quelled and he tumbled lightly to the ground, his eyes darting around with sudden confusion. "Aaa... aaa?!"

The flash of lightning caused him to let out a shriek of disorientated fear, and he scrambled behind Ambrose's legs - the one source of protection that he assumed he could trust. Although his eyes were wide with shock, at the sound of laughter, a small confused grin appeared on his face - an involuntary reaction to the sound of joy.

His eyes peered at the new figure on the boat, unable to determine how they got there. But that didn't matter now, and his eyes narrowed with as much determination as he could muster. A frail finger pointed at him.

"...Straanggerr..." His head tilted to the side as he wore an assertive frown. "...Or friend?"

Ambrose glared at the figure, not daring to move an inch forward but also holding his ground. He had a lot of questions he wanted to ask the figure, a lot of demands, too, but he held his tounge. Angering the strange man could have dire consequences, even if he claimed to be an ally. . . .

"Neither," Ambrose answered Luppa frankly. This man was familiar, but definately not a 'friend'.

"Aww." The rather flamboyant man pouted. "That's not very nice, Entropy. Of course I'm your friend--"

"Then, use my name," Ambrose countered, fencing with words. He glanced down at Luppa briefly, wondering if the creature understood just what that word meant. The word that, according to Them, completely defined him.

"But, that is your name," the man reasoned, following Ambrose's stare . . . He mannerism changed from disappointed to throughly entertained.

"How sweet," he grinned. "They don't know about Us, do they?"

Damnit.

"I don't know what you're--"

"It's okay to tell the other people, erm," a glance down at Luppa, "creatures what you really are. It certianly makes things more exciting for Us." The man's smile made such a statement believeable, except for the simple fact that Ambrose had played Their game before, and still was.

Ambrose didn't say anything in responce. He couldn't. His throat was dry, and his legs slightly shaky. He tried not to think about it, tried not to dwell on what the man said, but the more he did, the more the words echoed in his head . . . What he really was. He was human. He had to be. . . .

While Ambrose remained lost in thought, the man who seemed to know everything about Ambrose knelt down next to Luppa, grinning.

"I wonder . . . What do you think of Ambrose? Divinity-wise, I mean."

Neither? How could one be neither friend nor foe? There was very little inbetween - except for, of course, completey strangerism. But from the way they would refer to each other, they certainly appeared to have some connection.

"Ambrooose," he quietly muttered as the red-haired boy looked to him, as if on command.

The look on the dilemma's face was, quite frankly, absolutely bewildered. What was going on? Where did this man come from? No amount of reasoning that the frail thing's mind could arrive at a conclusion.

And, when referred to as a 'creature', his lip quivered. He'd been trying to fit in as a 'person' for the last century, and it was annoyance to be brought back down to the first peg again. It was very unfair indeed!

The question made him blink owlishly. "...Ambrose is... the one who commands. He tells things, I do the things he tells." He bowed his head at the stranger. He hated the way he was kneeling down - it was always a particular peeve. These people were above him, and shouldn't be stooping to his level. He was the servant, they were the master.

"He.. leaves his family." He glanced back in the direction of the academy. "A lonely life indeed!"

The flamboyant man listened to Luppa carefully as it spoke, nodding every now and again. When the creature was finished, he raised up Luppa's head to his with a gloved hand, examining the creature closely.

"Lonely, indeed," he agreed, glancing over at the paralyzed Ambrose. "He's been alone for quite some time before this. Still . . . he has you here, correct? I suppose darling Entropy was planning on taking you with him, a helpful servant . . ." His voice trailed off, the man's face now solemn.

Without warning, he let go of Luppa's face and walked over towards Ambrose, who was still stunned. His thought were too overwhelming to think of anything or anyone else. Like with Luppa, the man observed Ambrose carefully from top to bottom, as if diagnosing an illness. At the end of it, the man was standing in front of Ambrose, a little taller than the red-haired boy.

"You disappoint me, Entropy," the flamboyant man sighed deeply. "You tried to fight and run away from Us, but . . . you couldn't, could you? And now, you're giving in."

This snapped Ambrose out, if only a crack.

"I'm through playing your games," he whispered, barely audible.

"The games aren't done playing with you, darling," the flamboyant man corrected, pulling out of literally thin air-- a coin. Ambrose's eys were immediately attracted to it.

"How--"

"You lost it on the way here," the flamboyant man informed his counterpart, flipping the coin through his fingers delicately. The coin itself was an unmistakeable gold, and although the coin was too far away to catch the details, he knew them by heart: a face etched masterfully on the surface, one that he could not place; a teeny-tiny lightning bolt at the side striking a clock tower; the small date marked as twenty-twelve; the usual Latin above the head reading simply “ENTROPY.” "Explains some things, doesn't it?"

It explained too many things-- the approching simularities between him and Them expecially. It did not explain, however, why it wasn't given back to him already.

"Why didn't you just give it to me in the first place?" Ambrose could not help but growl, his eyes flashing red a little-- but, the man was immediately defensive.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea, okay? I'm just the middle-man, in this case." With that note, he flipped it up in the air for Ambrose to catch, which he did. "They just wanted to send a message. If it helps," the man hesitated to add, "I was against the whole thing."

Ambrose polished the coin a little in his hands, not replying. He knew that he couldn't blame the man, as much as he wished. If anything, the flamboyant man was the least of his problems. . . . Still, the coin was back, and that was all that mattered. The gold coin . . .

". . . And now, for the original reason I was here," the man beamed, his previous sadness all but evaporated into thin air. He paced over to Luppa, placing his hand on its head like a mayor would wrap an arm around a citizen for a photograph. "These people have a right to know about us!"

His wide, colourless eyes gazed up at the stranger, uncertainty pulsing through him. Uncertainty? The feeling baffled him. He could never be uncertain under his master's guidance, he would trust his master's judgement, and he would show him the way. But Ambrose seemed a little strange.

He listened, his eyes warily flicking to the coin and back. He tried to listen, he tried to understand, but nothing was making sense. Puzzle pieces just weren't fitting together. Who was Entropy? What was this shiny, peculiar object? Who were these two?

Luppa looked distant, gazing off into the space between them, it's mind too concentrated on this mystery to pay attention to reality. It was when the man wandered over towards him and placed a hand down towards him that dilemma would shriek and duck out of the way, scrambling cross the deck to take shelter behind Ambrose like a frightened child. "WHO-!" it began, a voice fearful. "Who-- being?! Where is the direction?!" He pointed an accusatory finger at the stranger. "D-don't harm my master!"

"No, they don't--" Ambrose started before Luppa's scream erupted in the air. He flinched as Luppa cowered around his legs, but the boy shouldn't have been surprised. The flamboyant man was scary enough to make anyone scream.

The flamboyant man frowned a little, used to such treatment but never really getting over it. "Really now . . ." He then smiled a little once more, although awkward. Yes, this was the question he wanted to be asked.

"Go on, my darling Entropy." He was enjoying this-- after all, what reason did the boy have for not sharing with the class? Otherwise, enlisting him at the Academy would be simply dull. No, no, best to start some fun around here. "Tell your 'servant' who we are. Who I am," he added with some pause for thought.

Ambrose glanced over at the flamboyant man, then Luppa. He sighed deeply, knowing that there was no way out of this. If he said 'no' much longer, lightning would reign down upon him, and although it wouldn't kill him, it certianly wouldn't be plesant. He took a deep breath . . .

"Luppa, this is Occurance, more commonly known as Disaster," Ambrose introduced. He couldn't look at the two while he spoke. "He is . . ." He voice trailed off. How do you explain Them? Besides sounding ridiculous.

"Go on," Diaster urged. He was estatic now that someone new learned his name. It always gave all of Them a thrill when their name was passed around.

Damn it.

"He's a deity," Ambrose groaned, knowing that there was going to be hell to pay later.

The dilemma looked up at the boy, his wide eyes expectant, as if he were awaiting an answer from him. It was his judgement, after all, that he regarded higher than any other's. His hesitance was only met with an encouraging nudge from Luppa, with the creature muttering the name under his breath.

He blinked.

A deity? A figure of worship? A... master?

The indecisiveness hit Luppa like a brick wall, and he let out something of a disorientated snarl, giving Disaster a strange, confused look. "Does that not make oneth a master? Isn't I to serve those much grander than Luppa?"

His wings defensively obscured his form, much in the manner a vampire would peer out from under his cape. His gaze would flicker cautiously from Ambrose to this suddenly important stranger. And then, his eyes would venture back in the direction of the academy, which had long vanished from sight. "How nice a sunset would be for our depart, and a sunrise for the return...?" his quiet, distracted mumbling was interrupted by his own realisation that the others were still present. He pointed to the man again.

"Disaster! A disaster by name, or by act? Intending to ruin our harmless fellowship - I assume not!"

(( PERFECT! XD ))

Disaster began to laugh obnoxiously, thowing his head up towards the sky and clutching his slender waist. Ambrose, on the other hand, almost felt a blood vessel pop due to pure frustration. Luppa recognized the word . . .

"Oh, the Others would just love you!" Diaster exclaimed.

"Shut up." Don't say anymore before it can't be taken back. Still, Disaster pressed forward.

"'Much grander than' . . . Oh, that's just precious! Switching masters because you think that we're not--"

"Shut up," Ambrose growled. It was a threat, a promise to rip out the deity's voice box. "Shut up right now--"

Disaster grinned, and all was lost.

"You've got it all wrong, Luppa-dear: we are the same, the same level of--"

Ambrose charged at Disaster, pulling out a trusty plastic fork and aiming for the jugular-- but, it was no use. A lightning bolt once again reigned down from the heavens, sending the red-haired boy overboard and crashing into the water.

"--being," Disaster finished, frowning a little. He glanced over the boat's frame, where Ambrose was barely staying afloat."Honestly, darling, did you think you could surprise me, of all people? I well know of your tenacity. Stay put: this is for your own good." He really did mean it-- all of this denial was having its toll on the poor boy . . .

Disaster turned towards Luppa once more, smiling eagerly. He loved telling people more about himself-- that's just how They were. All of Them.

"To answer your question . . . I am Disaster in both name and spirit, the pure enbodyment. You may now be in awe."

"Love?" the dilemma drawled at the word. "Lust or loyalty? A blossoming friendship or the cherishing of one's bosom?" A quiet snicker escaped him, his head tilted at a crooked angle.

His cackle halted at Ambrose's dissatisfaction. His master... or, one of them, was unhappy. That, in turn, also made Luppa unhappy. If he wasn't happy, than neither could Luppa, that was how his service worked.

As the red-haired boy charged, his eyes lightened with alarm, then gasped in horror as he was knocked overboard. His master was in danger! He remembered fondly back to the beach event, heroically leaping into the waters to save his friends. He'd overturned twice, but yes... He'd done a good job. His masters had been satisfied. That's all he needed.

He swivelled a sort of glare at Disaster. "We are not the same being! Take the stairways to higher plains, but you shan't drag the lower with you!"

He blinked. "This is... Disastrous!" What was an odd mix of a scream of fury and a cackle at his own pun, his wings unfolded to their full 8 foot wingspan before he leapt to the frame of the boat. His arms weren't nearly long nor powerful enough to take hold of the boy, so he reached his wings down as they took a blanket-like form, hoping the boy could reach them.

Ambrose barely managed to keep treading water before his eyes fell upon Luppa's outstretched wings. He quickly grabbed hold of it, the leather secure underneath his capable hand. Now what?

A uncontrollable laugh escaped from Disaster. He was thinking all this to be histerical. Why wouldn't he? He simply adored Entropy, after all.

"I didn't mean the two of us," the flamboyant man explained to Luppa. "I was referring to myself and Entropy. Ambrose," he clarified just in case the creature still wasn't understanding. "He's more of a candidate than a deity, but . . . It ends up all the same anyways." Of course, Disaster himself was never a candidate in the first place; Ambrose was really the only one who gave deity-hood a second thought. That made him perfect, in a way, to represent Entropy.

Disaster watched Luppa keep a hold onto Ambrose with curiosity more than anything. He really thought that Entropy could swim. Huh. Damnly representing Chaos, as usual.

Luppa blinked at hearing the man speak. Ambrose.. was a deity? His brain hardly had time to process this thought when he felt a tug on his wings. A surprising tug that almost jerked the dilemma overboard, but his tiny claws managed to scrabble for a hold on the edge before such a thing happened.

Truth was, Luppa wasn't very powerful at all. His arms could be compared to twigs, and his body to some sort of loofah. Where was the muscle? He wasn't sure quite what he could do. He did try to tug the boy back up, but he couldn't find the strength inside himself.

"Hold on, hold on, let not a finger slip from thy grasp, a thread of patience shall reap a bountiful reward," he tried to assure him.

His eyes turned towards Disaster. He surely couldn't demand assistance, but he could... hint it, without the feelings of guilt stinging him. "A... a helping hand would be... the most kindest thing one could offer!" he called. "Appreciated only with the truest love of a red rose!" A dashingly inappropriate smile was assumed, as if that would persuade him to help more.

"A rose?" He didn't quite catch that. That smile was pretty creepy, too. Still . . . he didn't necessarily want Ambrose to die. Not at all.

Grudgingly, Disaster held out a hand for Luppa to grab ahold of. Usually this action would send his worshippers reeling back in delight; several women would pass-out, there would be some baby-kissing, and so on. The usual. Ambrose was always the exception to such things.

Meanwhile, Ambrose was . . . just hanging. Water kept spurting out of his mouth, and he was starting to loose a grip on the wings. Althought Luppa's words were certianly comforting, he didn't know if the creature could deliever.

He managed to spit-out a gargled, "Hurry," before choking on the sea water once more. Violent coughing could be heard overboard.

Had Luppa's ramblings confused the man? No, the dilemma deemed such a thing impossible, his masters were always smarter than he was. Then again, he was beginning to doubt who was his master and who wasn't.

He didn't have time to contemplate this as the man generously reached out a hand. He almost gasped with sheer wonder. Someone... had done him a favour! Not just a favour, a request. It was, frankly, unheard of. Luppa always did things for other people, and it had never been the other way around. However, the weight that pulled on his wings reminded him that he couldn't rejoice just yet.

He let go of the edge he'd been clinging to, and teetered dangerously, almost as if he was about to fall overboard. However, he managed to cling onto Disaster's offered hand before it happened. The touch of his hands against his... the temptation to lick... it was..

He heard his master's command. Hurry. He restrained the urge. His eyes turned pleadingly towards Disaster, as if to silently beg him on. Yet, amidst the tension, the crashing of the waves, the panicked feelings... beneath it all, Luppa, could almost hear something that sounded uncannily like the tearing of cloth. Coming from his wings.

Disaster pulled at Luppa's arm, watching as his darling Entropy was pulled into the air . . . and the ripping . . . Perhaps he pulled a little too hard.

"Oops."

Ambrose sailed into the air, still coughing-up water violently as ever. He managed to get out of the water, yes, but now he was what some deemed as "flying." Of course, Ambrose himself did not think of this as flying, as the word suggested at least some control over where one was going. He would need wings. As he looked at what he was still holding onto, though, Ambrose supposed that he did have wings. One of them, anyways.

He flailed in the air, over the boat . . . over the other edge of the boat . . . and into the water again. Hard. One could hear over the gargling of water something akin to a sailor having its eyes pecked out by a ticked-off seagull.

As his arm was tugged at one end, and his wing was tugged at the other, Luppa was finally beginning to understand what the rope in a Tug-Of-War game felt like. Needless to say, it wasn't the pleasant experience that he wanted to expect. He let out a befuddled, uncomfortable moan.

At least it was successful! To some degree, at least. The rip behind suddenly turned into a loud, damp FRRRP. Luppa toppled forwards clumsily, his feet scattering over the floorboards. He looked up, and his expression seemed to widen in almost admiration at the sight of Ambrose in the air. His master was... so gracious!

Well, gracious wasn't exactly the right word either. His overjoyed expression quickly morphed to sheer horror as Ambrose returned to the salty sea. But what was he carrying?

A sudden thought came to Luppa, and he checked behind himself. Where his left wing should've been, there was just a ripped gap. His face contorting into visible unhappiness, and he looked up at Disaster, as if he were somehow to blame.

He tottered back towards the other side of the ship, his wide eyes searching the sea for the familiar red hair, before allowing his other wing to flop overboard for a grab. "Not drown! The skeletons of the sea are undeserving of your grace!"

"'Undeserving of his grace' . . ." Disaster repeated to himself, hiding a smile with a well-placed hand. He glanced over at Ambrose-- the red-headed boy certianly wasn't very graceful at the moment. Quite the opposite. Like a fish without fins . . .

And yet, Ambrose refused to let go of the wing. He was horrified by what had just occured, or at least would be if water wasn't seeping into his lungs. He had just taken away someone's "constant," something that should have been with them until death, unchanging. Like coins. Coins never changed, and that was the inner beauty of them: they were always there. Human greed assured it.

The leather remained tight in his hand. He had to give the wing back to Luppa. Somehow.

Through all the water rushing about him, and Ambrose's burring vision, he couldn't see the other offered wing. His sight was fading. . . .

After watching over the side of the boat for several moments, Disaster sighed, then walking over not towards Ambrose but rather the odd creature helping him. His servant.

"Why are you helping him, of all people?" he questioned, not understanding in the slightest. He always had the impression that Ambrose was not a "people-person."

When Ambrose didn't reach for his wing, he panicked. What to do?! He looked back to the other man as he spoke, and froze. His inquiry seemed to send a ripple of fury down Luppa's fur. His wings opened wide before him - well, one of them - stretched out in a manner that almost seemed imtimidating. "Because!" he snapped, his voice shrill. "I serve before him as an inferior being! He is master as is I, a servant. I do what he will,s and he wills me to save him! I am..." His eyes seemed to venture off, before focusing on the edge of the boat.

"I am a lifeguard!"

With that, he twisted around, and with a leap one could only call magnificent, he plunged himself into the cold, cruel sea.

He noticed immediately that the water was freezing. He let out a gasp, flailing his tiny arms around, suddenly blinded by the waves. Staying afloat was effortless; staying orientated was something else. The water rushed around him furiously.

Finally, he caught sight of a flash of red, and stretched out longingly towards it. Yes, he was a hero. He was going to save his master. He reached to latch onto the scruff of his collar with his frail fingers, before reaching to wrap his remaining wring protectively around his frame. He wasn't sure how much it would help, but he at least hoped that it would help keep him afloat, and perhaps keep him a little warmer too.

Diaster did not dare reply to Luppa, else release his suppressed laughter. This creature was amazing. It was everything that They would want, and yet, out of all of Them, the suddenly heroic figure followed the candidate. The only one that adamently refused to look down upon others . . .

Ambrose's vision was fading . . . He could barely keep afloat, it was like all the forces of the ocean just wanted to pull him down into the depths, farther . . . and farther . . . It was so cold . . . made him . . . tired . . . His eyes . . . refused to open . . . farther . . . f a r t h e r . . .

Something . . . warm? . . . wrapped around him now. . . . It was so comforting . . . He could feel himself rising up towards the surface once more. . . .

An immediate gasp for air. AIR. He needed AIR. He gulped it down akin to mass-polishing coins when he hadn't touched a precious in days. He needed it to LIVE.

His vision cleared up, and Ambrose witnessed his savior. Luppa. He did not say a word, but his gratitude was silently expressed. He didn't know how to say, "Thank you."