[centre][color=Silver][h1][u]Grant Hyral[/u][/h1][/color]
[@Jinxer][@Ambra]
[color=Gold][sub]Snowy Mountains[/sub][/color]
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	Mid-way through his improvised lyrics, a face that barely talked to him suddenly thrusted itself within his vicinity. He was bombarded with quickfire questions, all of which he had no time to answer. He was being commanded in a fashion that was aggravating. His peace and tranquillity of which was his own, seemingly-forced-by-everyone-else, solitary mind had been disturbed with the annoyance he was being presented with. The mood that he held at their arrival up the mountain would not help in a situation like this. This girl, Lauren, would never speak to him on a regular basis. So, now he was being bombarded with questions only regarding to satisfying the seemingly irritating compassion of the maintenance of random folk's health. Sure, it would be nice to have the checkup, but when he saw how everyone spoke with one another, for the past months, and have this be his only interaction, all he could feel was frustration and small-scale rage. The timing was all wrong for her.

	As she held the snow in front of him, making him feel on the spot, he could feel everything slow down for him, like any situation he was put in. He looked around, at everyone really. Grant could see the joy or concern or sorrow, or just any emotion, in the faces of those around him. Only Olivia's directed any sort of attention to him that hadn't for once mimicked the attention towards another. He stirred in his mind, feeling the warmth of the fire only enlighten the inner-feelings he had inside himself. Every day, he had kept his views of being an outcast bottled up inside, joking around and pretending he meant something to more than 4% of the group he lived with. And the snow being held in front of him could have melted from the steam and shock burning in his muse.

	The day he first joined, he could almost feel the happiness he once shed upon the group slowly wither away. Maybe it was the death of Luca that catalysed this inner-demon of his, but either way, the group forced him to act so differently. Before she was to depart, Grant acted, grabbing her wrist, twisting it along her arm's axis gently to pour the snow onto the floor, where he mumbled the first opinion he'd been bottling up for so long.

[color=Silver][b]"Like you actually fucking care..."[/b][/color] A wintery-heat erupted from his mumble as he loosened the grip, standing onto his feet and turning. He took his paper, his drawing equipment and wandered off from the embracing light and warmth of the bonfire. Grant made his way around the Cabin, to where only the light of candles were.

	In front of him stood a darkened silhouette of another mountain. It was hard to make out, especially with a few candles beside where he stood. For the next twenty minutes, he slid down into the snow, an extra jacket wrapped over his shoulders over the already caring clothing he'd attired with. The wetness of the snow felt like his arse was dipping into a lake. He used an array of thicknesses with the black coal he'd mustered from inside. Though in the night he sat, the light of the candles allowed him to judge the stress-relief he was giving himself. The scene was a bit off, some of the colours being too bright in patches and too dark in the others. Either way, it passed the time long enough for him to drift back inside, where people had already been heading inside for. They'd drunken the weird substance offered, in which Grant denied. And from there, he entered the Cabin, found a place to lie down (Whether or not it was his designated bed or the floor).

	He was with his thoughts again, where the courage to speak his mind to anyone else felt conflicting. His decision was not as he seemed. Why had he spent so long on a farm alone, and yet he hated the solitary treatment he was given here? Was it because Mateo comforted him for the final months of his time there? From what it seemed, no one here were to comfort him or shower him in love during his final months. He had no idea when those final months were. Sometimes he hoped they lasted longer than the others to prove his was worth something. Other times he hoped it lasted a shorter time, just so he could get out of the mental torture he was enduring...

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	As everyone began to start heading down the Mountain, from their starting positions of course, Grant looked upon his Cadet comrades. They mostly looked sick, drunk or hungover from the night before. The only sickness Grant felt was having to see people who had joined the Training Corps in that position. If this was the plague that showered the cadets here, most of them would be a fine addition to the Military Police, providing they could stand on their two feet to receive any sort of fucking accommodation in the Line of Duty.

	Grant, like always, remained at the back, watching the rear of people's heads. Talking and chattering between people, words saying that "they'll talk about it later" showed the closeness of everyone in the group. Everyone had that 'One' individual who they could rely on. Grant came into the Training Corps with Reese, Olivia and Gabriel...He had continued on almost alone. Given, Olivia had tried hard to keep in contact with him, but her obsession over talking to the others made it feel like he wasn't even part of that group. Gabriel had talked to him once, they went fishing and it was a nice experience. But he never did anything afterwards, as some might have expected. As for Reese...Well, Grant was but the air surrounding Reese, nothing but something around him.

	His thoughts burnt through these depressing subjects and opinions as he felt the need to talk to someone. But that feeling had stuck with him for a few months. Was it time to express feelings he had towards people? Sure, he had positive, far too positive, feelings that he directed towards someone, but in this day of age would they care? Most of the thoughts would turn negative knowing the depressing shithole Grant had become.

	He dwelled upon his own image of himself. Grant knew of how he may be overcasting his judgement on his situation a lot, but that's what allowed him to identify the little feeling he had in comparison to how he was before. Life was but a game of cat and mouse, the happiness hopelessly trying to escape from a cancer of misjudgement and misery. Grant's mind swung towards how he acted the night before. He was in an almost fictional world to the others, would anyone, if even Lauren, care to question the outcast he'd made himself? Was it his own actions that had granted him such a mind-scrambling solo debate?

	A moment of silence finally found its way in his mind as he looked upon Olivia, standing away from people for once. By her expressions, she looked sick to death by the beverages of the previous night. And with that, he couldn't help but smile slightly, yet only briefly. His pace finally picked up enough to stand beside her, for the first time in a long time.

[color=Silver][b]"Hey..."[/b][/color] He mumbled, quite awkwardly. A feeling stuck in his heart like a dagger that had been there for a while, but the tip was poisoned with the emotions of awkwardness. He'd not had any normal conversations, and it was soon to be the time that he told her of his struggles with emotions within the Cadets. [color=Silver][b]"I...Heard there was some drinks, last night? Heh heh..."[/b][/color] An almost lifeless chuckle seeped from his lips, as if he had tried, but fell too short from his weakness.

	A strong silence was created by him after she responded, where he kept walking, eyes planted into the snow below his own feet. Grant hadn't felt more entitled to spreading his opinions and experiences, his wants and desires of resigning for the fact there was no more self-confidence or esteem left to care.

[color=Silver][b]"I...owe you a lot. Explanations, really...But...I'd prefer not having people around who...well...are involved...Which is everyone, in all honesty..."[/b][/color]