Fowlhunter [GL]

Ennanis’ first death was at nineteen years old.

That’s a bit abrupt to start with, though, isn’t it? Let’s go back a bit… to where we last left off.

~~~

Eight years before the eruption of Amethyne Mountain.

Eight years before the battle of Fifth Peak, eight years before an angel commander exiled to the undercloud encountered the human by the name of Jemi Garen, Ennanis Zoleil began her day in the bunker.

She wasn’t sleeping in the bunker of the elite paired-wings, however. She lay with the cadets on the lowest south face. Because there wasn’t any space left for her sudden arrival, she’d had to grab the sleeping bag she normally used for overnight trips and lay it down in the least dusty corner of the bunker she could find. When she rose to dress herself, her white Warden’s robes were not in her section of the cupboards; she’d had to return them on the day of her incarceration. Not that she had liked to wear them much.

Secondly, she no longer wore the standard belt issued to all angel Knights, the one made of a combination of luminarial gold and supple leather, which glinted flashily under sunlight. Now she was to wear a grey belt with a steel buckle. It was peeling everywhere from wear-and-tear. One suspected that it was a repurposed hand-me-down. As for who had handed it down, or why they’d had to hand it down… it was an easy guess.

In the bathroom, Ennanis slipped on her blue topcoat and culotte. Given the way things were going so far, she was grateful they hadn’t made her wear trashbags too.

When she walked out, she caught sight of a familiar face. It was her former bunkmate in her cadet days, the one who had slept on the bunker below her. He had a new rank insignia and ribbon now, three-lobed single wing and red ribbon.

“Hey, Shaun,” she called out. “Long time no see. You’re a Lieutenant now, huh? Congrats.”

But when Shaun glanced back at her, his face merely twisted in condescension. He turned away instantly, flying out of the doors.

Ennanis stared after him, dumbfounded… but a part of her wasn’t surprised.

This treatment continued after she stepped out of the bunker, on the training rockfields, in the mess hall, and during her mission for the day. Everywhere she received lingering glances, wrinkling noses and hand-hidden whispers. Ennanis felt like she’d been transported back into the time before she had started making friends one year ago. Even back then, their disdain hadn’t been this open. Perhaps now, they had a concrete reason to condemn her. Ennanis’ crime hadn’t been disclosed publicly, but they still knew that she had committed some crime. There was no way the Golden Rose had been conscripted into the Graveyard for poor performance. Now, they had a justification for their dislike. They’d always known she was weird; they’d always known there was something wrong with her, and it had only been a matter of time.

The one-eighty in the angels’ attitudes was so pronounced it was comical. Only that this was no joke. Had they known what Ennanis had done… they would’ve known that she deserved a far worse reaction.

Throughout the day, Ennanis’ face was a carefully-kept impassive. It was the expression that she adopted most days. It had softened fractionally over the past year, but now it was guarded once again—even more so than it had been three years ago—steel curtains drawn over whatever her true feelings on the situation might be.

When night fell, Ennanis hovered over the edge of the sixth peak with the rest of her new platoon.

With the sun almost gone, it was cold in a way that caught Ennanis unawares, even though she’d prepared for it to be so. At this high an altitude, the freezing winds were nothing compared to the mild air that she’d experienced on her infrequent night stays in the undercloud. They raked through her pink ponytail, grasping and tearing at her roots. Her eyes had to remain in an eternal squint to see through the darkness and bluster.

Meanwhile, the angels around her seemed to be faring even poorer than her. The chap next to her could barely stand upright, his body curled up on itself as he clutched at his vest and shorts.

“Can’t you wear more?” Ennanis asked when she saw him.

“Oh. Hey, Commander Zoleil,” the greybelt smiled upon seeing her. “Well, we have to comply with uniform rules. I’m wearing a thermal undershirt, but it’s still really c-cold, haha.” Ennanis’ body had the broad Soleki reserve of an angel Commander, which helped to keep her warmer in cold environments; the same could not be said of cadets, which the Graveyard numbered in greatly.

After greeting her, the cadet attempted to straighten himself. “I heard the news. I didn’t think it would be true. I wish I could say it’s good to see you… but you’re probably not feeling that great about being here.”

Ennanis’ eyelids lowered. “Well, it is good to see you, Nathan.”

Nathan chuckled good-naturedly, as did the others around him. Most of the greybelts treated her quite warmly. In the past two years, Ennanis had talked to many of them, at first as a means of gathering information. For they knew of Amanita Zoleil, the Warden who had voluntarily helped them in their time of crisis. Even though no one knew what had happened to her in the end, she was upheld as something of a martyr in the ranks of the Graveyard. The goodwill that the greybelts had for Amanita extended towards her latest disciple, and they had answered her questions readily. As time went on, though, Ennanis had come to appreciate them and their situation more, and found their company enjoyable enough. The angels here, compared to the others, were less… quick to judge. Less high-strung. More willing to understand, give benefit of doubt.

Maybe a bit too willing, in fact, for before she even said anything, they rushed to justify her presence for her:

“You didn’t actually commit any crime, did you? They probably put you here because they just didn’t like you. The other guy, Lieutenant Shang, he’s only here because he mouthed off a General.”

“Yeah, probably just put Ennanis here because they were mad at Amanita for going against Warden rules.”

“I mean, the timing’s too opportune. They just needed an excuse to put someone strong in the division now that the Cockatrice is back.”

It was too dark for any of them to see the way Ennanis’ jaw tightened. The angel said nothing. The greybelts, well-used to the pink-haired angel's brevity, didn't push it. There was also an unsaid rule to not ask about how anyone ended up in the Graveyard unless they disclosed it themselves. But still they could not hide their curiosity, and stared at her somewhat hopefully. Fortunately for Ennanis, another voice soon drew their attentions.

“Attention, soldiers.”

The authoritative voice of General Ju boomed across the mountainface. Her yellow-bunned hair and stark-white robes made her an easy spot, even against the darkening sky, deepening with the cool hues of twilight. Like Ennanis, she did not appear remotely affected by the cold; only her robes whipped in the bluster of the wind. Indeed, General Ju was also a Warden with a Beast specialty; thus she headed the Graveyard Division.

“Welcome to the Graveyard,” she said. Her piercing gaze swept over the thousands of angels gathered upon the edge of the sixth peak. With how low-profile the greybelts were when they were among the other angels on Mount Casca, it was a slight shock to really see with your own eyes just how many of them there really were: standing here shoulder-to-shoulder, huddled quietly as the clouds thickened around them, covering the entire expanse of the cliff’s edge. They were mostly cadets. A handful of sergeants and lieutenants were scattered among them. One or two brigadiers.

General Ju’s gaze lingered on the one and only gold-ribboned angel in the division.

A Graveyard Commander… it was an oxymoron. There was no such thing. Yet she was.

It was brief, but Ennanis saw it: the condescending smile that spread across the general’s face. I told you so, the smile said.

Then the Warden raised her hand, and stabbed a white-hot needle of Soleki through her mind. Similarly, the rest of the Graveyard Division was mentally hewn to the voice of General Ju, or the other two, three Wardens standing next to her. These Wardens would remain on top of Mount Casca while the Division ventured to the lower peaks.

Thus, tethered on these threads of communication, the angels lowered themselves below the clouds.