Lotus Blossom

Amyra gently opened her eyes, blurry and rimmed with gray haze. The first voice she heard was a small, kind one. Amyra? She smiled. Amyra, you're awake. I am. Hello, Aerie. I was worried about you. How sweet. I was. Thank you. They paused, and Amyra took in her surroundings. I didn't break my promise, she whispered to her spren. I know. She stood up carefully. Is she alive? Aerie knew exactly who she was referring to. ...Yes. Amyra breathed out air she had been holding in. Thank heavens for that. I wasn't a very good windrunner, was I? Terrible at making decisions. Amyra laughed. That was the old spren she remembered. What did she remember? It was all a fog, now. She strained to pull out memories. It was all abstract. A dream, even. Nothing from her life was real. She forgot the taste of her own blood. No, I mean protecting people. Aerie whistled sarcastically. You're surgebinding was a mess. No it was not! It totally was. And you made some pretty stupid moves, my guy. Amyra nodded slowly. ...I was right though, wasn't I? Yeah. You were right. I'm sorry. Me too.

Junior laid back on his bunk across from Len. He looked around the dorm room. He let the sounds of the cadets in casual conversation and arguments fade into the background as he heard his own slow, steadfast heartbeat. Mechanical. This was what the world was like, now. Life as a DDF pilot would become this: intricate, but strategic. He took another breath, never at peace but for this moment, tuning out chaos. He wouldn't smile. Not now. Now, he saw only the face of disgust and death. Only few would graduate this training. And of those few, they would be the ones to die in battle. That was the truth. Wingmen, Radar Intercept Officers, Partners In Crime... Call it whatever you'd like. In the end, someone would always turn on the other. It was inevitable. It was exciting. It was what everyone was waiting for. Until all of a sudden, it snaps. And the tension breaks, just like that. A boom. A scream. A gun shot. Junior nodded slowly to himself, and recalled his book of poetry. Cynical, sweet, beautiful. About the sky, about the sea, about life, and about death. Of course. He inherited none of this from his mother, of course. A free-verse poet. No. He wrote within structure. Restrictions. Self-imposed limits. Self-imposed chains. Meter. Rhythm. Nothing like his mother. Nothing like the wind. Or the sky. He thought. And it blowed into his mind, cool, like a breeze. It brushed against his thoughts. It had always been there. The title. Vanishing Points. (villanelle is attached) Yes. That was the one he had written so long ago. So young. So innocent. He recalled another... He had written this in his leatherbound notebook, though it was in his satchel. He couldn't have the other cadets suspicious. He remembered this one word-for-word... He had written it a few weeks ago. (villanelle attatched)

"They'll return soon enough. I have no concern for Aria."

"I think we know exactly where they are," Junior said with a small smile.

"Conversations are two way," Junior said in a low voice, raising his eyebrows.

Here's my submission!

"You've got a point there." Junior tilted his head to the side with curiosity. "How long have you been here, Len?"

"Avoiding your own question? I see how it is," Junior smiled.

"I've told it before." Junior paused, glancing to his sides. "Nothing to cry over. And you? Is your story alright?" Or does it drown, clinging onto the breath of life. Or has it drowned, struggling through the manacles of my own self-inflicted pain.

"I have one..." Junior began, leaning back on the bunk as well. "Only one. It's twisted, upsetting, and confusing. Difficult for anyone to understand. Difficult for me to understand."

"Not one worth having," Junior shrugged.

"You can't be for certain," Junior smiled softly.

"Yeah. Just thinking." Junior gently curled his mechanic hand into a fist, and then unfurled it. "How about you? All good?"

Junior stifled a laugh as he snapped his head back up at Len. "What? Oh. Hey. June. I like that."

"A team," Junior repeated absent-mindedly.

"Why aren't I?" Junior asked, suddenly contemplative.

"You won't have to," Junior smiled.