(Jardin, Liberna)

Jardin unhappily parted with his friends at the end of their patrol, as  the sun went down, not for the first time wishing his school days had never ended. He missed having Dexter talking his ear off late into the night. Missed Dexter talking his ear off late into the night. Missed Dexter dragging him to Wren and Page’s room every other day. Missed having his friends with him at all times.

Missed not having to exist in a too big, too empty house where every corner is saturated with disappointment and disapproval.

As night fell, Jardin made it to Lore manor. The doors opened automatically to let him in, the only sign that he was even still welcome in the home he was forced to stay in.

The wide, empty halls echoed with each step, the sound shaking and rattling in Jardin’s chest. Without seeing another living person, Jardin made it to his bedroom.

Jardin pulled off his glasses, tossing them onto the dresser and unclipped his belt, letting it drop heavily to the floor. He flopped face down onto his bed, still too soft for him after years in the dorms of “Kitten Academy”. With his face sinking into the mattress, Jardin fell asleep…

…Jardin was woken by hands pulling him up into a seated position. He squinted out at his half-lit bedroom but without his glasses the only thing he could see were three vague figures dressed in white; two standing by his bed with their hands on his arms and shoulders and the third standing by the door.

“Who-what?” Jardin could barely croak out, before the two figures tugged at him and forced him to stand. One of them stepped away briefly and came back, pressing something, his glasses, into his hand.

“Thank you.” Jardin muttered, putting them on. The room, and the figures, became clear. Three men, Guardians in uniform, and unfamiliar faces. The man at the door had his arms crossed over his chest, his hip slightly cocked, his uniform unzipped rather far down, and his black hair messy, altogether far too unceremonious for most Guardians.

With sight restored, Jardin willingly walked up to the man and pressed three fingers to his mouth in salute, assuming , as is quite likely, that the man was higher rank than him, “May I inquire what exactly is happening?” Jardin asked, throat dry and screaming for water and voice unsteady.

The unkempt man uncrossed his arms, turned part way towards the exit, and placed a hand on Jardin’s shoulder. His voice when he spoke was dry but tinged with pity, “You’re now the firsts survivor of an attack by Hurricane and Tsunami.”