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Arthur Curry, unlike most people, usually enjoyed the rain. The feel of cool water spattering against his dry skin was always a blessed relief whenever he spent time on the surfaceworld. Even the most miserly of drizzles could help raise his spirits. It had always been like that, even before he knew he was part Atlantean.

Not today though. Nothing could help shift his all-encompassing gloom. Nothing felt comforting today. 

The day of Clark's funeral.

The Atlantean prince stood amongst the other members of the League, decked out in his ceremonial garb, back straight, posture rigid, face as carefully neutral as he could possibly maintain. Composed. Controlled. Unflinching. He didn't want the world to see how much he was hurting. How much he was grieving. Clark hadn't been just his ally, he'd been his friend. Another outsider, another being torn between two worlds, two peoples. More than any of the other Leaguers, Clark had understood what it was like to feel [i]different[/i]. 

And now he was gone.  

 Of all of them Clark had always been the best. The strongest, the toughest, the most virtuous. Without him what were they? It wasn't a question he wanted answering, honestly. 

Supergirl was at the podium. The Girl of Steel. Heavy title too foist on someone so young, so frail looking. She might be strong as he was, but was she ready to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders? Especially when she was looking like her own world had just crumbled down around her. She gave a good speech though. Short, solemn, respectful, tinged with an edge of hope for better days. The kind of speech Clark might have given.

“Good words.” Arthur murmured to himself as the Kryptonian stepped away from the podium. 

Maybe there was some small comforts to be derived from a day like today. 

[b][u][COLOR=GOLD]Later[/color][/u][/b]

The ceremony was beginning to wind down, the speeches finished, the dirt piled. Mourners still mobbed the site though, congregating in small groups, trying to assuage they're own grief by drawing strength from one another. They shared their favorite stories and personal anecdotes about the Man of Steel, trying their best to remember the better times. Arthur was conversing with Kaldur, the two Atlantean's naturally gravitating towards one another. It had been a while since the two had seen each other, Kaldur's responsibilities to Supergirl and the Teen Titans keeping him from serving as [i]'Aquaman's sidekick'[/i] as often as he used to. Not that Arthur minded. He was proud of the man that Kaldur was becoming, and felt his independence was well earned. Still, it was nice to see him, just a shame that the situation was so grim.

Arthur's belt buckle started to pulse softly, a sign that he was receiving some form of dispatch from Poseidonis. He excused himself and crossed to a quiet corner where he could listen to the message in peace. Lightly pressing the finger-tips of his right hand upon the stylized [i]'A'[/i] of his belt initiated contact. 

[i]Contact[/i] was the Atlantean fashion of conveying messages to each other over great distances. The process usually utilized a magical foci – such as his belt buckle – to allow telepathic communication between individuals oceans apart. 

Near instantly he felt the probing, intrusive, and vaguely nauseating sensation as his consciousness was suffused by another's, wondering – not for the first time – if this was what it was like for the aquatic life when he used his gifts to command them. He'd heard that apparently the experience wasn't quite as unpleasant for a puissant mage as it was for a mystical novice like him, but really that was a fact that didn't help Arthur in the slightest. 

Slowly the second [i]presence[/i] coalascended into a separate consciousness, taking on the traits and characteristics of the message sender until it felt like there was a whole other person shoved into Arthur’s skin. Familiarity bloomed, the half-breed coming to recognize the feelings this consciousness presented. The intelligence and intensity of magical power, the deep cunning that couldn't be found in normal men. The strength of character and immense willpower. The feelings of [i]family[/i] he inspired in Arthur. It was unmistakable.

[i]<Brother. . . . My apologies for interrupting the ceremony>[/i] Began Orm, his [i]'voice'[/i] whispering through Arthur's head, a slight echoey quality to it. It was obvious he meant the apology, as his presence twisted uncomfortably when he made it, the psychic equivelant of hand-wringing. Orm knew how important today was supposed to be. For that reason Arthur forgave him, as the Crown-Prince wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. He could feel Orm's relief.

[i]<You're right, it is urgent, so I wont waste anytime. Mere minutes ago I, and several of Poseidonis's most powerful sorcerors felt a magical pulse. After quick discussions we have unanimously agreed that it's source could be from nothing other than one of the lost Zodiac Stone's >[/i] Orm paused, perhaps sensing his brothers surprise. The Stone's were items of incredible power, twelve in total, each patterend after the signs of the Zodiac. It was the Stones that had once allowed Atlantis to be the eminent power on the face of the planet, and it was by using the power of the Stones that allowed his forebears had managed to survive [i]the Drench[/i], the great cataclysm that had sunk their kingdoms. In doing so many of the Stones had been lost though, modern Atlantean's only knowing the wherabouts of six. For centuries the Seven Kingdoms had hunted the missing Stones, knowing that to find just one could tip the delicate balance of power between them. If Orm was right, and this pulse had originated with one of the lost Stones, then a sufficiently talented mage could track the pulse straight back to the Stone itself. 

[i]<Exactly, and while we can't be sure that the anomaly will lead back to one of the Zodiac Stones, we can't just ignore it, and take the chance that our rivals don't, and actually finds something. The collegiate have already located the source of the pulse>[/i] Co-ordinate locations appeared in Arthur's head, only a few hundred miles from the east coast of America. [i]<You're not far, so you stand the best chance of beating the other kingdoms. We need you go there and investigate, and if the Stone is there, retrieve it for Poseidonis>[/i] This was no request. No doubt this was an order straight from his mother. Even the funeral of Superman couldn't postpone this task, not in the eyes of his family. For the briefest of moments he resented them, always telling him what to do, never bothering to give a moment to his wants, his needs. Couldn't they do anything without him? Couldn't he get one day, just [b]one[/b] fucking day to himself!? All he wanted to do was grieve for his friend! 

Hadn't he given enough of himself to Atlantis?

Orm must have sensed the animostic feelings, as he quickly changed tacts. 

[i]<Please brother, we need you to do this. We've already sent a mage who was in the area towards the pulse location, as well as a Man-o-War squad who were nearbye on a patrol mission, but this is a task that [b]needs[/b] to be done right. If it is a Stone then that's too much power too let just anyone have! Mother or I would go ourselves, but we have the meeting with the Tritonis ambassador today, and he's angsty enough without us walking out on him>

<You're the only one we trust to do this>[/i] 

Near instantly the fight went out of Arthur. He even knew that Orm had just played him like a bad fiddle, and yet he still knew he'd do what was asked of him. He couldn't see his family far enough, and Orm knew it. Break out the big [i]'T'[/i] word and Arthur was caught, hook, line and sinker. 

[i]<Thank you brother. You're doing the right thing. If you do find the Stone then take it straight back to Poseidonis. Give it to either myself or mother. No one else>

<I'll see you soon Orin>[/i]

Orders handed out the meeting was concluded, Orm's presence swiftly receding until Arthur was once again left as the sole resident in his head. He glanced around to see if any one was looking at him, but no one had even had the time to notice. The entire meeting would have taken seconds, the benefit of telepathic conversation. Everthing transpires at the speed of thought. 

Speaking of, he had better get going. The race would be on, and whether he liked it or not he didn't have any time to spare. He glimpsed Kaldur as he was leaving, briefly wondering whether he should enlist the young man's aid on the mission. Then he saw Supergirl, saw the way Kaldur looked at her, and decided against it. She looked like she needed Kaldur a good deals more than he needed Aqualad, regardless to the risk it might prove to Poseidonis. Arthur knew what it was like, feeling torn between your responsibilites to two seperate worlds. He wasn't about to put Kaldur through the same.

Without saying any goodbyes he left.