Member
HereComesTheSnow
Finetales
Kaithe Dame
Neziul
Boreas
Stryder BC
"M o r g a n !"
The iron tones of the Atlesian captain must have carried somewhat harshly over his Scroll, because Brennan was trying his hardest to speak in as clear and unaccented a voice as he had ever been heard to command. Thumb, index, and middle fingers on one hand gripped the Scroll steadily, while his other hand was crammed into his pocket. Brennan himself had lifted his head to the sky wolfishly and was watching it, beholden, for any signs of astrological activity. He loved the first sight of the moon in the late afternoon - loved seeing it in all its shattered glory earlier than anyone else, trying to piece it back together the way that you imagined rearranging broken glass. Ever since he was a boy, he had dreamed of being the man strong enough to reforge the moon.
Even though he was supposed to know better by the age of nineteen, the quest for that strength had been part of the reason he'd enrolled in Atlas late rather than never.
It was one of those perfect late afternoons that Brennan loved to watch from the aluminum crust of Atlas, and the fact that Vale so easily replicated it meant that maybe the podunk little kingdom had more natural beauty than he gave it credit for.
Brennan would have enjoyed it a lot more if he wasn't agitatedly watching the skyline for the other half of his team.
"I won't call you a fourth time. If you don't get here where I can see you in the next ten minutes, I'm going to put a Dust crystal in a train whistle and have Tarik ram it up your arse and blo--" Brennan trailed off and directed his gaze down from the sky, to the realm of the mortals he walked with. He blinked a couple times, almost bewildered, and turned to Noel behind him. His other hand cupped over the Scroll's speakers, insulating Morgan from hearing any further.
"Noel, lass, where's Tarik?"
"He took the locomotive!" his teammate said cheerfully.
Brennan's eyes opened fully, and slowly his strong jaw went a little slack.
"He took the lo--we're--the matches are--!" he sputtered, before gesturing angrily at the Amity Coliseum and the ground it was built on with his Scroll. "This stadium fucking flies!" The Atlesian visibly collected himself and uncovered his Scroll.
"You there, Morgan? Rescind that threat. If you're not here in ten minutes, I'm going to hogtie your ankle to Veblen Good and go fly fishing for Tarik using your fookin' body!"
"Yeah, Morgan!" Noel echoed. "You better get here on the fly!"
"Shut up, Noel."
"O-kay."