"Released? How is that?" Jeremiah was the first to ask. Metal Sadly groaned in mild exasperation. "You see, whenever one of you Destined receives a blessing, your powers are 'reset,' so to speak, most likely for plot inconvenience, so the shields you created around him get deleted. Since it took all six of you to bring him down, he should be able to escape a shield with only four layers, even with the machine kid's mechanical bubbles. Now do you understand?" Metal Sadly drawled. He didn't seem to pleased to be giving that information.
"But why did you give us this information? Why warn us?" Tamara questioned.
"If I know my master, no matter what hint I give you, it will not stop you from being destroyed," Metal Sadly droned back. The metal monkey didn't seem to be too pleased with anything. It was probably the theatrical sad face. "So," Heather began. "I know your polar opposite buddy, Otto, has a name. What's yours?"
Metal Sadly sighed. "My name is Herman," he told Heather. "And before you ask, the angry one's name is Malarkey." Jeremiah had no idea why Heather wanted to know their names. It was probably some secret woman trick that only females have--like remembering details or finding things, in Jeremiah's experience.
Herman stood up. Like Otto, he reached up to a few inches past Jeremiah's waist. "May I go now?" he asked politely, if not a little bored. He then flew up to the ceiling, opened the roof hatch, then flew out, without waiting for an answer.
The six then broke up and went back to their cabins(August went to the engine room), slightly disappointed about the boring encounter. Thirty minutes later, Jeremiah went to Heather's room, confident that she was the only person that would help him not be bored. He wondered what it would be like if he just barged in rudely.
When he opened the door without knocking, he saw Heather with her hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. She was looking down at a heavy book on her bed, standing on one leg as multicolored sparks came out of her palms, which she was waving around.
Overall, Jeremiah would have to describe it as magic yoga.
Heather, hearing the door open, lost her balance and fell. "Sacre merde!" she shouted, knocking her book into the air. It landed on her face. Jeremiah was sure her exclamation was very rude in French, but he wasn't sure what it meant. "What did you just say?" he asked.
Heather, getting back on her feet, scowled at him. "Why did you--I thought you always knocked!" she spluttered, clearly angered. Jeremiah shrugged. "Whenever I knock, I always hear drawers close and things move around. I wondered what you were doing," he explained.
Heather shook her head. "I was practicing magic," she told him. "And this stuff isn't magic I want other people to see me doing. It's very dangerous magic, and not just because I need to stand on one leg while performing it." Heather put on the dress shirt she was wearing minutes ago and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. "Turn around, then we can chat," she commanded. Jeremiah obeyed.
"So, you've watched the movie Harvey?" Heather asked behind Jeremiah's back.
"No, I just know the quote. My dad told me it was one of his favorites, because it assured him that smarts will never be as important as kindness."
"Was your dad a nice guy? You can turn around now," Heather added. Jeremiah turned around. Heather was now wearing the jeans she was wearing a few minutes ago, as well. "Oh, yeah, he was one of the coolest people I'd ever met, and I met a lot of people in my city. He almost never got angry, always was able to be assertive while speaking politely, he loved my mom and I to death...Man, I wish he were here. I think he'd be pretty proud of me right now," Jeremiah told her.
The two Destined sat down on Heather's bed, like they always did. "You know, you come into my cabin so often, I'm thinking of making a wicker chair for you," Heather seemingly joked. "You want one?"
"Nah, your bed is more comfortable."
"Maybe if I added a cotton cushion?"
"That would be great. If you made two, we could be having tea in the middle of the jungle in no time."
Heather seemed to think that was reasonably funny. "Then you could wear a dress made of jungle plants and call me darling," she joked. Jeremiah mentally slapped away the thought that immediately came up. "So what about you?" Jeremiah asked Heather. "I told you about my dad. What about yours? We'll all be meeting him soon."
"I don't think he was a life Destined. He never showed any signs of healing powers, and Destined abilities are not just something you conceal. My closest guess is maybe he was affiliated with the air--I mean, we have earth, fire, and water, why not air--because he was a quick man, and very flighty. He always forgot things, but he definitely showed signs of being abnormally fast. Many times.
"In fact, one time when I was five or six, he had to go somewhere. He told me he'd be back in an hour, but he came back in fifteen minutes. You don't just go four times as fast by taking the carpool lane. When I asked, he just said, 'I have friends in high places.' Kind of an air Destined sort of hint, huh?" Heather finished.
Jeremiah shrugged. "You can confront him when we get to your farm. I'm sure he won't mind, considering he'll find out that you're alive. I mean, that's the important part, right?" he said in response. Heather nodded, then proceeded to sit in silence for a moment. Jeremiah, feeling awkward despite the lack of social pressure, abruptly got up. "Well, it's been nice talking to you. Make me that wicker chair," he said to her as he walked out.
Jeremiah headed to the training room. He thought about Heather's chocolate eyes, wondering if they tasted like cocoa, while he beat up regenerating training dummies.