all good parties

And eventually, all good parties come to an end.

Damien is the leader of the group again, Francisco is gone somewhere. There is a strange feeling hanging over the group, like something has gone terribly awry.

“You all need to learn to not ask unneeded questions!” Damien complains as they walk down the abandoned street.

(No, not abandoned. It’s only early.)

Cattivo is smoking, holding the cigarette so tightly between his teeth that it’s likely to snap. Damien is looking around, at first lazily, then a bit more frantically. He has stopped the group in the middle of the road and seems to be scanning it, searching.

When it seems he has found what he was looking for he bounces back up with a smile.

“Okay, so you guys have to listen to me! And I mean it okay, no bitching like you guys LOVE to do! Seriously, no idea how Fran puts up with it.” There is a harsh note that is very unlike Damien in his voice that quickly melts away to be replaced with his usual smile. “You guys are going to think this is really cool. I know I did when Fran and I first found it. Anyway, I need you guys to follow exactly what I say.”

There is a brief pause as the group watches Damien squeeze past a telephone pole that is close to a wall instead of just walking around it. After Damien did so he turned and smiled at the others and nearly screamed when the majority walked around the pole. “No—no guys, exactly like I did it, okay, sheesh.”

Begrudgingly, most of the group obeys, and Damien is satisfied.

“Alright, now all we have to do is go down the manhole and—“

“What?” Cattivo snapped. “I’m not going into a sewer, what the fuck—“

“Cattivo.” Damien smiled pleasantly. “I know what I’m doing, alright?”

“. . .”

The blonde continues of his own volition until he stops at a manhole in the road. Taking a few moments (“no guys, I don’t need any help, really,” but sarcasm was always lost on that bunch) Damien managed to heft the lid off of the sewer entrance.

“Hey, no, fuck off, I’m not going into no…” Cattivo trailed off, looking down into the hole. There was no pitch darkness leading into the wet dankness of the sewers. What he was seeing was a bright sky accompanied by the smell of flowers.

Damien grinned. “Cool, isn’t it?” With that said, he climbed into the hole.
Frowning, Cattivo followed.

(There was a moment of vertigo before everything settled. He was on the other side, where a beautiful forest waited. Cattivo told the others to make sure to close the entrance.)

They had emerged into what seemed to be another world.

Damien ignored Cattivo’s question as to where Francisco was as he stretched, looking around. There was a path that seemed to have been abandoned for a long time.

“Let’s go then.”

There are no white horses, no moonlight sonatas as they take a few more steps down the sunlit path lined with lemongrass and poppy flowers, before charred white spires come into sight. And, what the group sees is undeniably a castle, or at the very least its remains. The building has obviously weathered a fire or two and time has been extremely unkind to it, but from what is left, he can imagine how impressive the complex must have been.

Cattivo looks to the castle that can't really be called a castle anymore, thinks of Francisco, the prince who can't really be called a prince anymore, and suddenly craves a cigarette.

Mari follows behind Damien and Cattivo at a moderate pace, surpassing all but the two mentioned with naturally long legs as an advantage. 'All legs and no bust!' As the Old Lady who brought her food had told her. Mari's lips curved into a reminiscent smile as she stared off into the distance with unfocused, sightless orbs. As they entered unknown territory, Mari sped up a little, towards Cattivo's fierce soul and and lightly latched to his sleeve, hoping he wouldn't mind being her guide as she familiarized herself with the new area, making an architectural blueprint in her mind to store it away for next time. Meanwhile, Gilbert was in the back of the group, cursing his short legs as he power-walked in order to keep up with his taller companions. 'One of these days...' He thought to himself, making a mental note to drink more milk. He glanced around for the seventh time that day, looking for a certain blood-eyed man, although he insisted to himself that was not the case at all. But it was.He wondered where Francisco was, for once, the president was not with them or guiding them. It was a somewhat desolate and lost feeling that weighed at the pit of the soul, but too faint for the person who didn't pay attention to their own feelings to notice.

“Okay, so you guys have to listen to me! And I mean it okay, no bitching like you guys LOVE to do! Seriously, no idea how Fran puts up with it.” Damien demanded of the group, Mari scowled childishly.

"Because he LOVES it." Mari exclaimed and crossed her arms, giving Damien a cheeky, but loving grin. Gilbert heard the harsh tone from the back, unable to see Damien's facial features. The copper-haired boy stuffed his hands into his pockets. Had he ever..."bitched" before? Gilbert thought back on his years in the club. Most of the time, he was pretty quiet, only saying things he believed needed to be said, or answering someone's question (usually, no one bothered to have a conversation with him. And other times, he'd be gone on a few weeks hiatus (if not a month) to go to Dragoon Camp on his Clan Chief's orders. Snapped from his thoughts as Mari unnecessarily replied to Damien, Gilbert watched the blonde squeeze himself between a telephone pole and a wall. Why he didn't go around the pole like a sensible person...well, Gilbert supposed, most of the people in the club weren't exactly sensible anyways. So, following Damien's lead, thinking that there must be reason behind Damien's madness. Easily passing through the narrow pass between the wall and pole with his slim, small frame, Gilbert ended up on the other side with Damien, surprised to find himself in the front now. He must have unknowingly passed up the others. Mari glanced at the copper-haired boy and gave him a heart-warming smile, somehow causing the droopy-eyed boy to give her small smile back. How Mari always managed to seem so positive was a mystery to Gilbert. He assumed that Happiness and excitement were not her only emotions, so he wondered how she hid her sadness and anger from the world. He was split between pity and admiration from the girl, unsure if her ability to bury her emotions so well was a good or bad thing.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Gilbert found himself watching Mari happily be dragged towards a sewer-hole in a three-man chain--Damien dragging a not-so-enthusiastic Cattivo, who'd been Mari's guide, and therefore dragging Mari, who clung to the silver-haired man's sleeve and looked much happier than the latter. Gilbert, amused, formed a small smile as he followed them into the sewer. What? He'd slept in worse places. However, the smell of waste water never hit the boy's sensitive nose, instead, it was the scents of nature that he recognized. Gilbert took a collective breath of awe with Mari as the open, blue sky and breath-taking landscape reflected in the boy's warm, chocolate brown eyes. Gilbert then came out from the sense of awe, snapping his head towards Mari, realizing that she'd gasped in amazement, as if she could see the land before her. The red-headed girl slipped her hand from Cattivo's sleeve hem and took a few steps forward. Could she see this place? As they followed Damien, Gilbert walked next to Mari and glanced up at her. "Hey...Mari...?" He began softly, but Mari's sensitive ears heard him clearly and her eyes steered to his, looking straight into his soul. Literally.

"Yes, Gilly?" She asked with so much interest, it could be mistaken as enthusiasm.

'Gilly?' "Can you...see this place?" He asked cautiously, hoping he wouldn't offend the publicity manager. He could almost feel her clinging onto his every syllable. She tilted her head to the left in thought and hummed lightly.

"Not...exactly..." Mari trailed off, searching for the right words. "Well, you know how I can see souls, right?"

"Right..." Gilbert agreed, he'd always been curious how she'd seen the world. What did everyone's soul look like? Mari looked naive and easy to fool, but now that Gilbert thought about it, she was probably the most perceiving person in the world.

"Well, this place...has a lot of history, so much that the souls who'd lived here before have been sown into every single fiber, dirt particle, and, well, everything. So, I can kind of see it. But, mostly, I feel it, the emotions that the people from before had are overwhelming, and I get glimpses of how this place once was. It was breath-taking..."

Sometimes, Gilbert wondered if Mari had some kind of form of Clairsentience. He nodded slowly and then remembered that Mari was blind. "O-oh..." He responded, Mari giggled.

"Don't worry, it's kind of hard to explain, so most people get confused." Mari answered and walked ahead as Damien came to a stop in front of a large used-to-be castle. History. Gilbert wondered if Mari saw the castle as it once was, in that magnificent form. Suddenly, the copper-haired boy felt a harmless envy, and smiled.