Chlorine Halos

Judgments & Jackets

Gulping, I could only bring myself to say, "Whoa."

With a grin, she set the knife back in the uniform arrangement on the butcher block. "So, you've added 'wind' to your ever-growing collection; that'll definitely be useful."

"But, I can't really control it."

"You'll learn. Unlike the rest of us, you get the time to learn."

"What? I don't understand."

"Okay, let me try to explain. For the longest time, everyone believed that any abilities gained through an aperas datio were... temporary. The things we can do—they're a part of who we are. An ability is sustained by the individual; elements and arbiters can't replicate a power that's not their own. Eventually, anything transferred burns out. That's just the way it worked." Crossing her arms, she smirked. "Then, came the exceptions to the rule."

"Me and my dad."

"Don't forget about the childless version of your father—Eighty."

"So, the three of us are technically arbiters, not elements?"

"I wouldn't call any of you arbiters. And none of you really fit the mold of elements. You're more like anomalies, wildcards, a—"

"Aces."

"And you're the ace that David decided to trust. He had to make a judgment call; I don't think he could've made a better choice."

"I hate to ask, but what happened to him?"

Lowering her head, she focused on the edge of the table, pinching it with her fingers. "After The Four Season Hurricane, things went from bad to worse. The end of Eighty brought the beginning of Michaels. And David was the first casualty of the new era. And Ri..."

Unable to utter the name, Ruth grasped a leg of the table, biting her bottom lip as she stood from her chair, lifting with the strength of her legs, and heaved the table at the wall. Every blade sank into the center of one of the red rings, struck with a slash, while the contents of my satchel spilled out, covering the floor.

As Ruth breathed heavily, Blue calmly ambled toward one of the riddling items, unphased by her abrupt actions. "Where did you get this, Avian? Tell me, tell me, where, Avian," he asked, holding the gun. 

Slowly standing from my crouched position, I stuttered, "I-I-I d-don't know. W-Why?"

"For starters—just for starters—this is a very unique, very, very rare weapon," he explained, pacing around the sideways table. "It's a Wyatt Revolver. Yes, yes. A revolver. A Wyatt. Yes." Suddenly stopping, he stomped on the floorboards three times. "Ruth, Ruth. Do you have uh, uh, a basement?"

Sighing, she rolled her head, cracking her neck as she exhaled the remnants of her frustration. "Yes, Blue. I do. I needed to keep my armory out of sight."

"And, and, and the passageway?" he asked while he tipped one of the cans in the cabinet, waiting for a result.

"Underneath a log, behind the cabin," she stated, turning the table upright. "Avian, are you okay? I'm sorry. It just... hasn't stopped hurting."

Hoping she would mirror my smile, I said, "You don't have to apologize." Looking at the unbelievably secured map on the wall, I added, "But, you do have to teach me how to do that."

"There's no time like the present. Follow me. You, too, Blue. And, uh, Jasper, Jaime—I think you know the way."

Nodding in unison, the pair of white-suited spirits floated through the floor as we stepped outside the cabin. After rounding the second corner, my strata began rattling inside the baton, blanketing the forest with the fog, illuminating a lost memory.