[indent][indent][justify]For several long seconds, Aramis didn’t move. The breeze tugged at the scattered corn rolling past his boots, each kernel bouncing downhill like a tiny herald of misfortune. Yumi’s grin still lingered in the air like perfume, and the Greatspur flock was beginning to take suspicious interest in the glittering trail she’d so enthusiastically deployed.

Aramis nodded once, very slowly.

[colour=536dfe]“Yes, exactly, I'll lead them, Locke prepa-”[/colour] [i]Tap.[/i] A single kernel nudged the toe of his boot. He stared down at it. [color=536dfe]“…wait.”[/color] His head lifted.

[h3][i][colour=536dfe]“Ehh?!”[/colour][/i][/h3]

He snapped his gaze toward Yumi for an immediate explanation — only to find a Yumi-shaped puff of dust, the breeze already fraying its silhouette into nothing. Aramis blinked. He turned sharply toward Locke next — and saw absolutely nothing. Just a faint shimmer in the air where a jump-jet flare had been a moment earlier. Silence. Realization. A very deep, very private sigh.

[colour=536dfe]“...Yappari...”[/colour]

He straightened his coat, set his shoulders, adjusted his grip on his staff and without another word, began the solemn, inevitable doom walk toward the bottleneck and the enormous, increasingly interested turkeys below.[/justify][/indent][/indent]