The Most Human Color IV

"The Most Human Color IV" is a Pre-Season oneshot written on [IRL DATE].
== Summary ==
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== Full Text ==
“Again, soldiers! Get those furry asses in line!”
Despite the season’s decline into autumn, it was still extremely hot. It was certainly far too hot to be running drills in the middle of High Central’s barracks, but Milae wasn’t about to play hooky with his new captains. Absolutely not. These people were hard, and cruel, even more than what he was used to.
They drove the squad hard until mealtime, which was smaller and harder than the meal they had a few weeks ago at their arrival. Afterwards, they were allowed to return to the barracks for a short break, but as they started on their way back from the training grounds, Milae realized he’d left his weapon, and he panicked and managed to slip away in the slight chaos of the moment, searching for his lance in the leftovers of the training grounds. He vaguely remembered propping it up against the wall of the ring, but he looked and looked, and couldn’t seem to pick it out among the other spares.
Someone suddenly grabbed the back of his tunic and threw him sideways, making him stumble over the short wall and in between two of the main buildings. He blinked in the sudden shadows and saw, with a skip of his heartbeat, the boy from his first day in Central, with the teal eyes and the dark, messy hair. He had his mouth quirked up in a triumphant smirk; Milae could see he was missing a tooth between his lips. Behind him were two other boys, and they were a little broader and taller than what seemed to be their obvious leader.
“You lost, goat?” he said, in a strange accent that many of the new Central captains had, as well as many of the citizens. He blinked and looked nervously over their shoulders; he could no longer see the rest of the squad. There was probably a way out behind him, but it seemed like it would only get him more lost to go further back into the encampment.
“No, I was…just looking for my…” His words dropped off as he realized the boy in the front was carrying a familiar lance. “Um…”
“Oh, I was just borrowing it. Didn’t know a little scummy hoofer was gonna come looking for this.” He spun it in his hand once, briefly; it was clear he knew how to use weapons like this. “But now that you mention it, I did want to give it back, on one condition.”
Milae, who was reaching his hoof out, slowly took it back. “What?”
“Maybe we can have a little spar. You and me.” Milae looked at him in utter confusion. His heart was pounding. “I always wanted to see what the little orphans from the barbaric Wild South could do. Haven’t you, fellas?”
“Oh yeah, Oliver.”
“Yup.”
Milae’s fur was burning. He didn’t know what an orphan was, but it didn’t sound good. “I don’t really want to.”
“It’ll be fun.”
The half-breed suddenly gulped and stiffened as his vision lit up with vivid shimmering streaks of light. He saw it–a vivid image of Oliver’s fist connecting solidly with his jaw, and his own body dropping to the ground, out cold. The cadets dragging him further into the alley until he was gone. A very, very strong sensation of pain and blood. Mocking laughs. Jeering names.
Milae blinked as he came to. It didn’t make any sense, but he felt like…that was going to happen if he stayed. It reminded him of the images he kept seeing, but it was something he had never seen until now. “No, thank you,” he said quietly.
Oliver’s smirk turned into a twisted frown, and he took a threatening step forward, towering over the goat. “I wasn’t asking, billygoat.” Milae backed up into another cadet, and the vision came again, only happening differently. More violently. He felt the ghost of a cold snap in his neck and he lifted a hoof to his throat, feeling like a rope was pulling itself around his neck, making it difficult to breathe.
“I don’t want t–”
“Soldiers!”
The cadets whirled around. Bhaem and Tulli were hovering behind their captain in the sunlight, her jaw locked, her hands behind her back. “What do you think you all are doing in here? Get back to the barracks,” she demanded stiffly.
The cadets quickly shuffled off, passing Milae and skirting out of the alleyway, as the half-goat crept up to his captain, looking down at his feet and feeling guilty for some reason. “Go home, all three of you. I don’t want to see this happening again, is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain,” they all chorused obediently, but none of them were quite looking her in the eye. Bhaem looked like he wanted to burst out and say something, but he kept his mouth shut as they began trekking back home. Tulli clutched Milae’s arm when they were out of sight of the captain and hugged it tight as they approached the barracks.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Bhaem cracked his knuckles. “I’m gonna kill those guys.”
“Don’t,” Milae said hoarsely, barely above a whisper. “We’ll just get into more trouble.”
“I don’t give a shit.” Tulli made an alarmed noise but he ignored her. “They were gonna beat you black and blue, and for what? Because you have more fur than them?”
“Shh!”
“It’s not fair,” Bhaem growled. Milae was shocked to see how emotional his friend was getting.
“Stop, stop, it’s okay,” he urged. “I’m fine. I’ll watch myself better next time.”
The boar shook his head tiredly and walked ahead of Milae and Tulli. “Let’s just get back.”
***
When they arrived at the barracks, their assignments were immediately issued; it was time to patrol the city. Milae wasn’t so eager to leave the safety of the compound yet, but orders were orders. He and his friends were tense as they strapped up their new armor; Milae had to have a new weapon re-issued, as the cadets hadn’t returned his original one. The Squad was accompanied by some of the more experienced High Central guards, but as usual, they looked very unenthusiastic about the entire affair. Milae was nervous, too; they said they were traveling to the very heart of the city today, and he didn’t know if it would be better or worse than what they had done so far.
It was hot. He was definitely uncomfortable with his new armor but it was better-made than the ragged leather patchwork they were given out on the plains. The people gave them strange, bitter looks, again, as usual. They drew up to the gate leading into the very inner city, with the Squad lingering behind in both awe and worry. The higher-ranking guards walked up to the soldiers standing in front of the massive doors. Milae held tight to his lance as he trotted a little faster to catch up with his friends. “Hey, w–”
He suddenly tripped, his foot catching on something weirdly soft, and he nearly fell on his face, turning in surprise to see what had gotten in his way. His lance clattered to the ground as he clapped his hands over his mouth. He’d stepped on a twisted, mangled corpse. 
He only looked at it for a brief moment but the image burned into his mind as he shut his eyes; it was a wildcat half-breed with her lower face torn off. Milae’s stomach turned wildly. He backed away from it, but his feet stumbled over something else soft; another dead body. 
He opened his eyes.
The scene had changed dramatically, shimmering with the violently bright iridescent colors that came from his visions. The sky was dark red with billowing smoke. The streets were stained with dark blood. And bodies. So many bodies. Screaming wails filled his ears, and the sound of roaring fire as it tore along the beautiful marble buildings. The massive waterfalls ran red and black. The disgusting, metallic taste of blood and smoke lingered on his tongue. Directly in front of him, he saw a single figure still standing with her back to him, marred and bloodied by the war raging around her. The most striking thing about her was her massive white wings, stained bright red at the edges. Her armor was made of dark iron, and she carried a massive weapon, a staff with two strange blades at its end. Her white hair streamed around her pale face as she turned to face Milae. Her eyes were solid white. Her dark lips formed words that Milae couldn’t hear over the chaos. A peal of thunder rolled across the sky, and as the trembling half-breed looked up, he saw the white shapes of lightning descending slowly, zig-zagging towards their position, crackling with light and energy, and he was frozen in place with fear, unable to escape the onslaught of blinding white that drowned his senses. He was burning, everything was fire and blood, there was no escape–
“Milae!”
The half-goat was vaulted out of his vision and he stumbled backwards with the force of it and tripped and fell to his knees. Bhaem was standing over him, and Tulli was right behind him. He shuddered hard and threw up on the white stone below him. His mind’s eye was still full of carnage and death, and his stomach was in quivering knots.
“Milae, what the Hel’s wrong with you!?” The boar grabbed him by the shoulders, and Milae spat weakly and shook his head, hardly able to form words.
“Bhaem, be careful!” Tulli cried, grabbing his arm. “You gotta talk to us, Milae, what happened? Are you sick?”
“I can’t stay here,” Milae rasped, his disgust and horror starting to be replaced by fear and anxiety. 
“Of course not,” Bhaem grunted, pulling him to his feet. “We’ll get you back to the infantry house and you can rest, come on–”
“No, I can’t,” he said desperately. Something was looming over him, a terrible sense of foreboding and darkness. He looked around wildly to see if someone was watching him. The crowd had parted in a wide circle around the soldiers; it was starting to become a scene. He saw some of the city’s guards looking in their direction and he was seized with an instinct to run like never before. He started backing away from his friends. “I have to go! There’s only…there’s only death…”
Tulli watched him with wide, shining eyes. “Milae, come on, tell us what’s wrong!”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a choked voice. The guards were pushing through the crowd, and the look on their faces scared him. He took one last look at his comrades, turned on his heel and fled. 
The crowd was difficult to navigate, but the only thing pounding through his head was flee, flee, flee. He could still see the massive gates where they had entered, misted slightly by distance and fog, and there he set his sights. The guards were now chasing after him. He caught glances of them every time he threw his head back over his shoulder. His ears were twitching wildly. Every group of guards he passed grew alarmed and joined the chase. Maybe they think I stole something. I don’t care…I need to leave this place! 
He peeled through one of the secondary gateways as it was closing and gritted his teeth as he scraped by the iron doors, continuing to bolt as fast as he could towards the wall of High Central. The crowd was thinner here, but he still managed to outpace the guards and leave the walls, passing through the towering archway onto the bridge crossing over the chasm that separated the city from the rest of the land. Roaring white mist flew in his face as his hooves pounded first stone, then hard-packed dirt. The incoming travelers looked at him with strange faces, and his heart nearly stopped as he passed a fleet of soldiers, but for some reason, they did not pursue. Milae continued his wild flight.
It must have been nearly an hour after he left that he finally ground to a halt, stumbling and gasping in a thicket of trees and tall grass, falling to his hands and knees, gasping and coughing. He was nearly sick again, but he fought off the urge, sitting back against a tree, absolutely blown away at how far he had fled from the city. The adrenaline pulsing through him was immense and powerful, even though he was exhausted. The wall was still very large on the horizon, but the guards seemed to have given up the chase at the bridge. He half-expected to still see billowing stacks of black and orange smoke floating up from behind the wall, but the sky was still blue, although it was changing color as the sun began to lower in the sky. 
Milae’s heart suddenly ached thinking of how he’d left so quickly, and he covered his face, shivering and trying not to cry. He’d just deserted the squadron; they would surely find him and punish him and kill him for running. He missed his home. He missed his parents. But he knew where neither of them were. All he’d had was High Central, and now it was gone. Milae had wasted his chance at something better.
Come.
The voice whispered to him like a faint breeze, and he looked up sharply, inspecting the knot of trees he was huddled in. He saw no one.
“H-hello?”
A sharp gust of wind blew past his face and he whipped his head in the opposite direction. His heart seized up as he saw something in the sky, something he hadn’t seen in a few years. A long stripe of clouds in a clear blue sky, lit by the setting sun, unmoving in the wind. His wide, teary eyes followed the trail of clouds down to the horizon. The grass rippled slowly as he got to his hooves, reaching up and untying the laces of his armor until the pieces fell to the ground, leaving him with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small pack of water and rations at his side. Milae took a shaky breath, looked back at High Central, and began walking.
Come.
Category:Pre-Season
Category:Yun Milae
Category:Tulli
Category:Bhaem
Category:Skuld