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Looking over himself, Connor was laying on what felt like an exercise mat; he was covered in a new blanket, an itchy knit blanket, but it was warm, he just wished he wasn't still naked and only in a diaper. But Connor didn't have a moment to catch his breath as he noticed a funny silicone feeling in his lips... a pacifier? The same one from last night? How long had he been sucking on the green thing?

"It's nice to finally see up the little dagger, how are you doing? Feeling better?" Mail asked, stepping into Connor's vision, craning his head; Connor looked behind himself and up at the small male who knelt beside him. "Yeah..." Connor answered as he watched Mail sit down behind him and cross his legs before holding up a bottle of milk, a fresh on.

Mail seemed different, he still had his practiced militaristic charm; he was even still wearing his school uniform, but there was much softer energy about him, like he nothing more than a giant walking talking plushie; Soft, squishy, and all kinds of cuddly.

Mail removed the pacifier and tilted the nub of the bottle to Connor's lips, "Here you go LD, I'm sure your thirsty." Connor wasn't sure if he should refuse or not, he could at least feed himself, but his hand was smacked away, "LD, you're not big enough to feed yourself, so don't make a fuss and let your older brother take care of you, ok?"

"Mail.." Connor started before the nipple was pressed into his mouth to silence him, a smile coming over the wolf's lips. "Connor, I know you have a lot to say, but you don't have to say anything. While you were asleep, mom told us everything about your diaper-wearing, and how you want to be a slave." Connor flinched he wanted to speak, but Mail held his head firm and the bottle in place to silence him, not in a threatening kind of way, he was still very gentle. "Connor, it's ok. I understand now. So if making you wear diapers and treated like a cub makes you feel happy, that's ok. You're family now LD, I'll protect you, and take care of you."

Connor finally had a chance to speak as the bottle was pulled free, "Mail, this isn't right, it's wrong, we shouldn't be doing this?" Mail shook his head as he rested the nipple just on the V of Connor's lips; all he would have to do is lean to the side, and Connor could start sucking again. "Connor, Mom told me everything, so I know you get a little 'happy' when you're treated like this. But I'm your Ward and brother, my job is only to take care of you and protect you, not play with you. So don't worry about it, and your little playtimes, they stay inside the family, no one will talk about it unless you say so." Mail assured his confidence tearing Connor apart because it would be so easy to say 'yes,' but it didn't feel right.

"Mail... You don't have to do any of this, it's ok. I'm fine."

"Connor, I want to do this, your family, and we Volvins take care of cubs and kids like you all the time. This is nothing but practice."

"Mail were not family, so you don't have to-." Connor was thumped, Mail looking just as wounded by the sharp blow to the forehead. "Connor, that's enough arguing, a family is what you choose it to be, it's not by blood. So if you want to be my little brother, that's fine, if you just want to be my brother, that's ok, but either way, you're staying in diapers, and that's final." Mail so swiftly declared laying down his heavy hand on the conversation as he pulled the bottle away, "So choose Connor, what do you want to be; do you want to be just a normal boring brother forced to live like you used to, lying about who and what you are? Or do you want to be my little brother and let go, be yourself, and let your family take care of you?"

"I don't know how to be a little brother," Connor answered as he covered his face, it felt so damn wrong to want to be small, but he wanted to let go, he just wanted to be himself again. Connor's hands were pulled away from his face, to expose Mail's white fanged smile. "That's ok, I'll teach you, mom said you might need a heavy hand anyways."

"Can I still go to the potty when I want?" Connor asked, falling into his childish urge to speak so directly.

"Of course, Connor, I'll potty train you as long as you want me too, but that means no big boy pants, ever, got it?" Mail countered Connor nodded, "Pull-ups?"

"I'll think about it, but you'll have to be a perfect little pup for me to let you leave this house wearing one." Mail cooed as he pressed the nipple back into Connor's lips. "Now suckle LD and finish the bottle." Connor leaned to the side to accept the offered nipple and looked out the window to watch the sunrise, mail rubbing the back of his head the entire time.

"So how is he Mail?" Dagia asked, from the other end of the room, stepping forward in what sounded like high heels.

"I have a new little brother mom." Mail answered with a wagging tail.

"That's amazing news Mail. I'll be sure to pick up something from the store to celebrate." Dagia cheered with a stifled enthusiasm as she came over to kiss her son's head. "Connor,-."

"LD mom, I told you his name is a Little Dagger." Mail corrected, "Only I get to call him Connor. I thought we agreed on that." Dagia chuckled as she nodded, "Sorry, Mail, it won't happen again. But LD, be a good little boy for Mail at school today, do as he tells you, and don't get into trouble. I'm going to be gone till tomorrow. I have to do some paperwork at the Judgement Hall, and then I'll head out to the bank to fix any problems with your bank account."

"Thank you..." Connor answered, earning him a gentle pat on the cheek.

"LD, you can just call me Mom, when we're home like this; You are my son after all."

"Mom.." Connor tested, the world felt strange, for so long it seemed like such an empty word; but now, the name felt lively, warm, and different. However, that didn't mean it didn't feel like a lead weight on his tongue. "Perfect LD; Atix is cooking pork ribs for dinner."

"Ribs?" Connor sucked, finding it funny that he was only speaking in monosyllable words.

"Yup, so be good for your new Daddy too while I'm gone." Dagia nodded, speaking slowly and clearly as if she was trying to teach Connor how to speak.

The doorbell rang, and Connor shuddered, reality suddenly tumbling back into his mind, as he looked at the front door, he retracted from everything, covering himself up and pulling himself in a makeshift ball. None of his new family stopped him, Mail instead just calmed Connor with a steady hand, watching his mom go to the front door and open it.

Master Newport, he was wearing nothing but black gym shorts and tank-top, and it took him a second to spot Connor across the room. He raised his foot to approach, struggling to set it back on the ground, his ears falling back against his head; averting his gaze, he turned his attention up at Dagia.

"Is he feeling any better Dagia?"

"He's had a rough night, but I'm sure you already know that." Dagia verbally stabbed, crossing her arms like a well-dressed sentry, wearing nothing but a black side split dress held up by elusive thin straps. Newport flinched, cringing as Dagia's gaze dug into him. "How could you brand him like that Master Newport? You know that not only break the rules you swore to uphold when you became a slave trainer but the law as well."

"I did it to protect him, Dagia, please-." Dagia silenced him, with a brazen blow to the skull, the brutal blow laying the small male flat on the ground. "Don't you dare beg me for forgiveness. I'm not the one you scared for eternity." Even Connor flinched when he saw the blow, it felt wrong, but he was held in place by his new brother, who shook his head, "Let mom handle this, Connor." Mail whispered.

"Just tell me you brought him everything I asked Banavi." Dagia chastised as she crossed her arms once again.

Master Newport stumbled to his feet, the blow really doing a number on him, as he seemed to shake from the pain, his nose was even bleeding from the impact, but he offered up a small plastic bag. "Please, Dagia, tell Connor him sorry. I never wanted to hurt him."

"But you did, you took away his choice, and you marked his soul Newport, there can be nothing less unforgivable. Raping him would have been kinder than what you did." Dagia finished slamming the door in the face, taking a breath she looked back back at Connor.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that LD, but it needed to be said."

"Did you have to punch him?" Connor asked, and Dagia shook her head, "No, but some people search for punishment when it's not given. Master Newport needs to feel like he's earned any semblance of trust from you, even if that means getting a beating for it, and it's better that I do it then someone who doesn't understand." Dagia explained as he handed over the plastic bag to Mail, "Why don't you go and get little brother dressed."

Mail dug through the bag, "Mom... there's only one pair of clothes in here."

"I know Mail, that was the point. Master Newport is going to stop by every morning with a new set of clothes until Connor's healed."

"So, I'll see him tomorrow?" Connor asked, and Dagia pat his head, "Only if you want to LD, that why I'm doing this. Its to give you the chance to see him if you want to. I'm sorry about forcing you to see him this morning."

"It's ok. Thank you...mom.." Connor pushed out with maybe more force than necessary, but he wanted to say it; he liked seeing Dagia smile.

"How very polite LD," Dagia cooed tickling Connor's chin with her finger, something he had to pull away from, Connor hated being tickled, he was too sensitive for that kind of play. "But give me a kiss, momma's got to go." Dagia offered the tip of her muzzle, and Connor kissed her cheek, it felt to forward to kiss her nose, especially if she was going to play the role of the adoptive mother. Mail didn't have the same qualms, he kissed his mother's lips with a brisk peck.

"Bye mom, may the gods be with you wherever you go."

"And with you as well." Dagia finished with another kiss to her son's ear and then Connor's, before leaving and closing the door behind her tail; with Dagia gone, Mail helped Connor to his feet.

"Let's get you dressed little guy." Mail directed, but he couldn't have been anymore ironic.

Mail's room was a cave of dark brown walls and a brown camo accent wall behind his bed along the left wall. The clean floor was a wood patterned tiled floor, but it had softer tan hues like sand soaked dirt, cold and smooth. Connor was lead to the desk where a bookshelf filled with textbooks from every grade level, math, science, history, a human languages-a compilation of texts in one full box set, even mass-printed copies of beginner-level magic and Mincridarn history and geography.

Many of the textbooks were tabbed for reference, and the desk was cleanly decorated with stacks of handwritten notes, trial and error math equations, vocabulary practice style note cards. It seemed like every kind of study technique was on display in one form or another, but as Mail dug out Connor's new clothes, the diapered male looked around at the empty walls.

The room was so bare, there was nothing personal hanging on the walls, no art, not even a calendar or trophy, not even the stray sword or weapon. The room just felt as quiet and gloomy as the solitary forest it was designed to emulate. "Mail... don't you ever have any fun or take a break?"

The small pup followed Connor's gaze around his room before digging out what looked like a pair of solid colored briefs, Connor couldn't get a good look, because Mail flexed the garment by the elastic band and fired it into the trash can by the bedroom door; or recycling bin thanks to all the papers it contained. "Mom says I need to finish school first, then when I'm done with all of my lessons, I'll be free to do whatever I want. But I do take breaks, I lift weights, meditate, and commune with the gods."

"I've been thinking about doing community service, so I can start saving up money to get one of those human game consoles, but I'm not allowed to do that until I'm thirteen, so I volunteer for fun." Mail answered as he unfurled a shirt, "I work in the library." Mail added with such warmth and pride like it was some kind of achievement; he even seemed giddy saying it; Connor couldn't bring himself to understand why though.

Mail popped up onto his chair and held out Connor's shirt for him, "Arms up LD," The pup directed as he helped Connor dress, before dropping down to the floor, to pull up a pair of blue jeans that weren't meant to hide the excess baggage between his legs. Soft lines accented Connor's ass and puffed up his crotch; thankfully, he didn't make any noise while he was wearing them.

"But isn't that boring, working day in and day out, don't you just want to do something fun? Don't you play with the other cubs?" Connor asked as he patted down his green shirt with a black patterned netting style, "I'M QUITE THE CATCH" The bold white letters clearly defined, maybe a not so subtle hint from Master Newport.

"Connor, fun is a luxury many of us Mincridarins can't have. Fun can be deadly waste of time. Guards who have fun can leave people unprotected, farmers having fun can cause towns and cities to starve. Nothing is fun, but everyone has a duty to do their job and do it to the best of their ability, and my job and my duty right now is to finish school and protect and take care of you." Mail laid everything down with a heavy tone that left Connor feeling the guilt of his new position. He should have been doing something to help Mail, but now, he was just adding to Mail's stress.

"Mail...if you know, if it's ever too much, watching out for me, you can stop if you want. I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do." Connor offered, as Mail sat him down in the desk chair.

"It's ok Connor, your my little brother, I'll always be here to take care of you." Mal grinned as he propped up Connor's feet, slipping black socks over them. That didn't make Connor feel any better, his gut turned, his heart hurt as he felt like he was doing nothing else but live like a parasite off of Volvins' kindness; he should at least be doing something in return, to make up for everything they've done for him.

"Mail... it just feels wrong... I'm living here, and you're taking me in, treating me like family, and I'm doing nothing but live off you like a parasite. Can't I do something... to repay you." Connor begged, broken, and torn up inside; he wanted to be treated like Mail's little brother; in fact, he really did like it, but right now, when he was nothing but a guest in their home. He couldn't take care of himself, or offer anything in return, it crippled him, it made him feel disgusting, like his organs were rotting.

"I'll talk to dad later tonight, if that's what you want, it would be nice to have someone help with the chores." Connor nodded, somewhat thankful that Mail hadn't said otherwise.

"Yeah... I can do that, Mail, just-." Mail silenced Connor with a brown rimmed pacifier; the gag must have come from Master Newport because it was large, the plastic was malleable, and the shape fit squarely behind his lips; it was nothing like the slender teething muzzle of a Mincridarn pacifier. "But Connor, you are still very injured and sick, you need to rest and relax. You can make everything up to me when you're better, ok LD?"

"Ok..." Mail mumbled from behind his infantile gag, "Do I have to wear the pacifier?"

"No," Mail shook his head, taking the paci out, "I just needed to keep you quiet for a second, but I will use it on you if you don't behave." Mail warned, waving the small object about by the small ring in the front.

"Yes sir," Connor answered, and Mail's giddy fangirl swooning smile returned; he really loved the formality; best to use it sparingly then, there was no reason to desensitize the small pup.

Coming down his bone shivering high, Mail shook the fluff off, never losing his smile as he pulled books off the shelf and bound them with a particular square of red cloth with long threads hanging off the corners; the yarn used to make a knot to keep everything steady. Holding out his hand with bound books in hand, he nodded Connor forward, "Just a couple more things before we have to go to school, Connor."

Connor accepted the hand, finding himself smiling, he didn't remember the last time he really held someone's hand, maybe years ago when his parents were still sane, but not any time recently, not in a way where he could feel genuine warmth and comfort spreading up from the light grip.

Walking out to the foyer, Connor could see a small splattering of Master Newport's blood still on the floor, his grip became unsteady as he remembers the brand, rubbing the invisible mark, Connor caught Mail's gaze, "You ok LD?"

"I'm fine, Mail... just, I still don't know if I can be with Master Newport. He stabbed me in the back, and it feels wrong to trust him, but I still love him." Mail nodded, "Well, the bad rabbit won't hurt you with me around LD." His assurance and confidence were intoxicating, and it erased Connor's uneven heartbeat as he sat down on the small ledge separating the foyer from the rest of the house.

"Thank you."

Mail set down his own books before going to a small shoe rack before pulling out Connor's old shoes, tennis shoes, old and worn. Things he had thrown into the back of the closet and hadn't used since Highschool, how did they get there of all places? "Mail... aren't those...mine?"

"Yup... Mom had the security forces get your stuff from your parent's home this morning... Some of your things were easier to recover than others though; just about everything from your old bedroom is in the garage." Mail answered as if that was such a simple feat, but Connor shook his head, who the hell was Dagia, and how did she have so much damn pull in Sanctuary Hills; where she can order guards around like some kind of commander? Who the hell had he accidentally met?

Connor, however, didn't have half a mind to ask, as he found himself suddenly distracted by Mail lacing up his old running shoes. "Thanks for trying my shoes Mail, I hate wearing these kinds of shoes. I can't ever get the knots right."

Mail smiled as he pats Connor's knees, "So they fit nice and tight?" Connor nodded, "Good, you never want to lose your shoes in the middle of a fight, it'll completely mess up your stance, all the uneven footing.." Mail shook his head as if he was speaking from experience, before walking away, "I'll be right back, I need to get your diaper bag."

"What... I don-" Connor couldn't finish anything as Mail had already jogged out of sight; Connor crossed his fingers and begged whatever gods existed to be kind to him.... They weren't, and by the time Connor set eyes on his diaper bag, he was already screaming a mental 'fuck you' to the gods of creation.

The diaper bag was a pastel blue with floating bubbles filled with small ducks... and it was also a backpack; why did Dagia even have a bag like that? She seemed like a solid color kind of female. "Arms back." Mail instructed as he opened up the back loops of the backpack style bag... with his dark green shirt and blue pants, it was a light-colored stain that no one was going to miss. Not including the fact that everyone wouldn't have a problem seeing the diaper between his legs.

Once the bag sat on Connor's shoulders, he felt Mail come up from behind and buckle a D-ring to the loop on his left shoulder, a name tag, big and bright. A blue pastel gift from the bag itself, 'Connor's Diaper Bag,' anyone within ten feet would be able to read the black lettering behind the plastic barrier, and with how the name tag was even designed, flip and flop, sway and bounce, it'd never turn around, even if Connor wanted it to. He'd have to take off the D-ring, and flip the entire thing around to even hide it, and even then, knowing Mail and Dagia; that would be a punishable offense.

"Mail..." Connor whined, holding the name tag, "Do I really need this?"

"Yes Little Dagger, I don't want you to lose your bag." Mail cooed as he smacked Connor's hand away from the tag, "Now don't play with it," Mail ordered, only proving Connor's last thought.

"Can't I have this at least on the back of the bag..." Connor begged as he was helped to his feet.

"Why?" Mail so slyly asked, his smile playing coy, he was Dagia's son alright.

"I don't want other people to know I wear diapers, can't we keep this in the family... big brother." Connor whined, begging pathetically, doing everything he could to possibly persuade Mail.

"Does it really bother you that much Connor?" Mail asked, Connor nodded, his brother sighed, and pulled Connor down and removed the D-ring, before attaching it to a zipper behind Mail. "You know, having it back here, everyone will see what a diaper boy you really are Little Dagger. I thought you might like having in front of you so you can see their face when they read it. Now everyone can read it, and you'll never see who knows what a little pup you are."

Connor flinched at the logic, people were going to know one way or another, he hated seeing people's reaction. Still, it was unsettling to let other people talking behind his back. The very idea of someone looking him up and down from behind made his Brand burn and itch, no one could see it, but it was still there, a permeate mark he could never remove. "Wait... I'll wear it on the strap." Mail was right, at least he'd be able to see who was reading it, and maybe he could try and hide it before they finished.

Mail's head popped into view from the side, "Are you sure LD?"

"I don't want people talking about me behind my back," Connor admitted, and Mail nodded, pulling off the D-ring, hooking it a moment later back on the strap. Connor couldn't stop himself from rubbing the itch that flared across his tramp stamp, even if at times his own fingers came across a bruise that made him flinch.

"Here... take my hand Connor, you'll be ok with me watching you're diapered butt." Mail offered holding up his hand, something that Connor didn't refuse, it felt strange being led by the pup beside him, but he couldn't ignore how good it felt either.

The strange and yet familiar roads were never empty, even in the early light of the new day, adults were out training in some form or another, while their cubs walked to school. It was strange, for the diaper to not be the sole focus on everyone else's mind but the black eye and bruised jawline. The injuries earned Connor some praise, laughing with approval, patting Connor on the back, or turning over his hair; Mincridarins really seemed to be handsy beings, always touching or prodding.

Mail helped avoid the more embarrassing conversation as adults and elders would ask about what happened during the training session, or about who Connor fought; persistent bastards lived off battle scars like they were old porn stories, seeming to live bicariously through every blow and swipe of a blade. But that didn't mean Mail could save Connor from everyone, an old turtle, maybe a little too wise for his own good had Connor pegged within three questions, "How was the fight? Where was the fight? And Did your father beat you?" However, the old turtle didn't probe much further after Connor found himself forced to admit another truth, thankfully he waved the two of them off before settling into a bench swing on his front porch.

Then, finally, there was the dreaded school lit by a rising sun and topaz clouds, hundreds of cubs, from three all the way up to or fifteen-year-olds, wearing the same uniform but mismatched shoulder-length capes: greens, reds, blues, yellows, white, gray and black. Along with some parents in a variety of clothing, from the lack of their-of to full human attire. The courtyard was packed with playful greetings and conversation, as Trainers and other staff welcomed everyone inside; doing nothing to direct the kids into the building but were instead merely present watchful guardians; that however changed dramatically in the span of several seconds.

Lilen was the first to see Connor, it had started with a small wave, but it turned into a look of rage as he stormed closer, fuming; cubs ducked out of the way and only watched as Warren came up to stop Lilen before following his gaze. Warren soon started jogging closer and was the first to meet Connor and take his shoulders in his hands. "Connor, what happened to you?" Warren asked, holding Connor's jawline to examine everything.

"Who in all creation wounded my student!?" Lilen roared as he reached out and tugged Connor closer, "Answer me Connor!" Lilen shook, "IF anyone is too bruise you, it's supposed to be me."

"Lilen, stop!" Mail counted, striking the hand away with the sheath of his blade. "He has a broken rib, you're going to hurt him!" That didn't stop the anger that dripped from Lilen's white glossed-over eyes as he contained his rage like a volcanic eruption, exhaling and inhaling with bare fangs before pointing his finger at Connor, "What happened?"

Connor caught his breath, his mind rolling back into place after being rattled so furiously, before looking up at the blind shark who looked at him from the side, his ears focusing on Connor's presence instead of his gaze. "Assistant Trainer Lilen, Trainer Warren, mom wanted me to give you each a letter explaining everything." Mail cut in before he tugged on Connor's bag to forcing him to kneel; Connor didn't say anything; he didn't want too, not with Lilen seething.

Mail, soon shuffled three-fold and gray wax sealed letters and handed two of the five over. Warren cut the seal with an expert swish of a butterfly knife before tucking the blade in his pocket and started to read the letter quietly to himself while Lilen recovered and regained his eyesight and took his offered message. Warren's face fell as he read the letter, seeming to read it twice before looking at Connor with tearful eyes, and without a word, pulled Connor into his chest.

"Connor, Gods, above and below, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there to do something." Warren's words were heartfelt, and his hold was loving and warm, it was strange. Connor barely knew Warren, in fact, he hardly knew any of the other teachers, but that didn't seem to matter; the comfort felt a hug from a familiar Uncle, and Connor couldn't bring himself to turn away; Connor found himself hugging Warren back.

Lilen soon entered the fold and put a hand on Connor's shoulder, the tension having long since faded in the short time it took for the aquatic Mincridarn to read the letter. "I'm sorry Connor, why don't we get you to the infirmary, you shouldn't be up and about." And once again, Connor felt a warmth he had long since forgotten, as Lilen massaged his neck.

"I'll take him, I'm Connor's Ward till he gets better." Mail answered as he holstered his sheathed blade.

Lilen chuckled, "Is that so, are you sure you can handle the responsibilities?"

"Yes, so if you don't mind. I need to get Connor into a bed so he can rest." Mail nodded, Warren let Connor go.

"Mail, don't hesitate to tell us if you're having trouble." Warren offered as he smiled, his fanged assurance deeply scared with a reluctant pain.

"I will Trainer Warren, thank you for the offer." Mail waved off, Connor silent mimicking his 'older' sibling, as he was dragged away through the confused crowd of cubs and into the school building.

The front foyer of the school was filled with a row of shoe lockers, Mail took off his own shoes and walked around in simple rough footed gray slippers. Mail helped Connor take off his shoes, what few cubs were still inside watched with a mild confusion but said nothing; thankfully, Mail seemed to alleviate their curiosity by speaking up in protest, "No Connor, I got it. I'll take off your shoes, I don't want you to break any more bones." As embarrassing as it was to be in the center of attention, it also created a façade Connor couldn't escape, it was a double-edged sword. No one knew that Mail was taking of Connor's shoes to be a doting brother and not a caretaker.

Connor, however, didn't get the same foot treatment of Mail; instead, Connor walked about the stone orange tile halls, in only his socks. The rooms were mostly empty, nothing colorful lined the walls since Mincridarn creativity didn't seem like a thing. Instead, beside each classroom door was a list of names, a school ranking chart. Some names were blacked out, others were marked in red sharpie, others in green.

"Mail...why are some of the lists marked?" Connor asked, barely having time to scrutinize anything.

"It's nothing much, it's just to show which students moved on to the next grade level or those that failed to pass the Merit test for their grade level." Mail answered as he pulled open a sliding door.

The reasonably large room beyond the large sliding door was what seemed like a small medical wing, with sanitized silver countertops, glass jars, and disposable medical instruments. Six reasonably sized beds were separated with teal curtains. "It's a little early to get in a fight, wh-." A female voice called out from behind a curtain, her avian silhouette fluffing a pillow, before coming out from behind the far-right curtain.

The auburn hen, dressed in white medical robes, quickly found herself silenced when she looked at Connor, but took a breath and waved them both forward, "Alright, what happened? Come and lay down." The nurse directed to the bed she was finishing up with, thumping down the pillow as Mail helped Connor kick up his feet.

"My mom wanted me to give you a note." Mail answered holding out another sealed wax letter, the hen swiped this off with a flick of her claw, before scanning the contents, balking, she covered her beak in shock, muffled "oh my's" escaped her grasp like a sweet old grandmother; except the hen seemed at least like she was in her mid-twenties with how youthful she looked.

Connor removed his backpack, and rested the diaper bag on his stomach, before he slowly laid down, watching in silence as he was handled like a child in the doctor's office, "Oh Connor, this is horrible. Did this really happen?" The hen asked, holding up the beautiful calligraphy on the paper; a cursive he couldn't begin to understand.

"Yes..." Connor answered nervously since he had no idea of what was really on the letter; he hoped it was the truth, and not some half-baked story sprinkled with fragments of reality.

"How is your chest feeling? Does anything feel out of place or wrong?" The nurse asked, pulling up a chair beside Connor, who shook his head. "Other than a sharp pain when a bruise is touched or when I laugh, I don't feel much." The hen pat his stomach, nodding as he answered.

"Good, good, that means the bandages are working."

"I hope it won't be any trouble if he stays here for today, Trainer Lana?" Mail asked, and the hen shook her head, waving off the small pup, "Of course not Mail, I'll make sure Connor's well taken care of," Lana agreed as she stood up and started to draw the curtain closed around Connor to cut out the light leaking in through the windows and leave him in Shadows. Lana propped open the curtain for Mail, who stayed only for a moment taking Connor's diaper bag off his chest and kiss his cheek. "I'll come and check up on you every hour to make sure you drink water and use the bathroom."

"Yeah...ok..." Connor agreed to blush from the kiss as if it was his mother kissing him in front of the entire school; thankfully, only Lana saw it. "See you in a bit." Connor waved off as Mail left with the diaper bag in hand, the curtain closing behind him. Their shilloutes walked away, but Connor could still hear their quiet conversation.

"Trainer Lana, this is Connor's diaper bag... I know it's not quite in the note, but Connor is having trouble holding his bladder; if he makes an accident, there should be a spare in here... But he only has one, so if he makes a mess... please don't waste it." Mail softly started.

"I understand,"

"And if he's giving you any trouble come get me, he's normally very well behaved, but if he's fussy like a cub... You can use this to keep him quiet." Mail added; Connor felt like he could accurately assume what it was.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Ma'am, Connor... he accidentally ruined the couch this morning... Peed all over it... Mom's trying to punish him for making such a big mess. So unless he wants to get in any more trouble, he should be a perfect boy." Mail explained so quietly that Connor had to really listen in, closing his eyes just to do so.

"I see, thank you Mail." Lana accepted just as quietly before the infirmary's door opened.

"Wait... before I go.. Mom left a list of things for you to know..." Mail added quickly the shuffling of paper echoing from the door.

"Thank you Mail, I'll read this in a moment, but go get to class you don't want to be late." Lana finished.

"Yes Ma'am," Mail agreed, before he called out to Connor, "I'll be back in an hour to check up on you, so be good while I'm gone!"

"Have a nice day at school Mail," Connor called out with a pointless wave, before falling back into his bed once the door closed, feeling like an idiot, exhaling to relax, taking a moment to breathe before Lana parted the curtains again.

"May I come in Connor?" Connor nodded, waving the hen in.

Lana stepped inside and dropped the diaper bag below a side table, before pulling up a stool, "I'm just going to take a quick look at your wounds, to make sure everything is where it's supposed to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Connor questioned as he felt his shirt pulled up, his chest and back exposed. The round bend of Lana's claws rolled across Connor's skin, "Well, you aren't wearing a brace, and it's clear to me that you're moving far more then you need too; your only worsening your wounds by living so carelessly." Lana lectured before laying her hand over Connor's rib cage, a soft shimmer of green light rippled out of her hand in oscillating round arcs. Closing her eyes, she seemed to be focusing on some kind of sensation, before lifting her hand away after only a moment.

"I've seen many healers do that? But what are you doing; when you use your magic like that?" Connor asked as he pulled back down his shirt.

"I believe the best way for me to explain it, is if I call it a magical MRI... I think that's the right human term.... I'm still reading your medical journals. But it's just to let me see what I otherwise cannot. It's a fundamental magic sense for us Dimen mages." Lana answered as she helped Connor lay down before reaching down to Connor's waist to pull at the button.

Connor quickly snapped, rushing his hands to his crotch, trying to push Lana's hands away, "Miss Lana, what are you doing?" Lana slapped his hands with enough strength to make him wince and pull away, "I'm only taking off your pants Connor, so you can get more comfortable."

"I can-."

"Connor, you shouldn't be arching your back, bending over or moving about so freely. You're lucky those bandages are fixing all the damage you're causing before it gets out of hand. You need to lay down and sit still." Lana chastised as she exposed Connor within a moment, and her eyes smiled, her beak whined with a sharp laugh. But she kept her beak shut and turned away to fold his pants and set them in a hanging basket at the end, before pulling out a clipboard and pen to take notes.

Connor covered his forest green padding, "What are you doing now?"

"Taking notes Connor, don't worry, this is all private; it's just procedure." Lana simply answered before tucking the clipboard away, before walking out of the curtain, she ruffled around in some of her cabinets before coming back, thick padded leather straps in her hand.

"What are those for?" Connor cringed as he quickly found his answer when Lana reached over and secured one of the loops to the right side of the bed.

"You're just full of questions aren't you Connor, don't worry this is for your own protection. Dagia said that you roll around quite aggressively when you sleep, so this is to keep you flat on your back." Lana explained as she ran the strap across Connor's chest, under his arm right arm, over his collar bone then back underneath his left arm where it was tied down loosely, pinning Connor to the bed. He couldn't sit up with the leather weight sitting on his chest, but then another strap wrapped over Connor's hip and was anchored down with a stiffer tension; bound flat, Connor couldn't move from side to side. Everything else was free, but he was stuck, he couldn't even reach the binding clamps, he'd need someone to set him free.

"Is that really necessary?" Connor asked as Lana pulled up the siding on the bed to make the faintest wall. "A precaution not tended is an injury waiting to happen." Lana quoted with a smile as she pat Connor's shoulder, "How does everything feel? Not too tight?"

"It's fine..." Connor sighed as he stroked the leather across his hip, it was strangely alluring, if Master Newport had done this to him, Connor would have loved being tied down like this, but Master Newport wasn't there, and it didn't feel right.

"Aright, tell me if anything starts to feel uncomfortable, and I'll adjust it, but till then, just lay back, relax, and close your eyes. Try to get some rest." Lana firmly advised as she pulled a thin blanket over Connor and tucked him in, not as tight as last night, but it was enough to keep his arms so slightly bound to his sides.

"L-." Connor found himself silenced by a pacifier swiftly drawn from her pocket, the one mail had used on him before. "I said rest, not talk." Lana finished with a shake of her finger. Connor accepted his predicament, "Fine..." He answered from the side of his gag, his obedience earning a smile from Lana as she walked away, closing the curtain, the dim light over his bed turning off, and strangely a soft haze fell over the small space. The curtains shimmered with black magic, and seemed to consume the light of the room, creating a void of darkness around him. The void consumed color and form, and left Connor blind, it felt wrong to be in such darkness, but for some reason, a soft blue light cut through those dooming shadows.

His cheeks were wrapped in glowing blue tribal lines, bioluminescent tattoos that shimmered with a radiating pattern trailing down his body. Exposing his hand, Connor watched as a line of light ran down to the tips of his middle and ring finger. His palm a blue spot dotted with blended purple diamonds like a mismatched fish scale. The patterns were symmetrical, his right and left arm were marked the exact same way, wrapping bends, and smooth curves.

Connor stared into the light of his hands, this had never happened before, his heart raced; should he tell Lana? Would she even know what was happening to him? It didn't hurt, but the markings had to be magical? This couldn't be normal... shaking his head, Connor cloaked his arms beneath the blanket, something telling him that maybe he should keep this quiet... perhaps it was the superhuman movies and government conspiracies that caused such fear to bubble up from the surface, or the fear that he might even be some kind of magical anomaly amongst Mincridarins. Still, either way, part of him knew it was a good idea to keep such strangeness to himself. Maybe... if he was careful, he could ask Mail about it when he came around.

Shrouding his head to hide the markings on his cheek, Connor inhaled his stifled breath, and closed his eyes to calm his mind, holding the blanket close, hoping nothing got exposed by accident while he slept.

~~~~~~~~~ \ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ \ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ \ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~

"Heads up!" A Jovial cry cut through the darkness, before Connor's head lurched forward, a firm hand pushing an old worn hat forward on Connor's head, blinding him with the rim until it was pulled away to expose a rush of light and color. A warm laugh echoed in Connor's ear, "Scare yah?"

"No, I knew you were there." Connor shook off as he fixed his hat, looking up at a sunburnt brother wearing nothing but a cap and black and red swim trunks. Aaron rolled his eyes as he held up a blue plastic-wrapped popsicle to Connor between the middle and ring finger. "Got you something, little idiot."

"Ha, ha, asshole..." Connor half-heartedly laughed as he snatched the frozen treat away before Aaron could do anything else with it.

"That's a lot of sass coming from you Connor; what would mom say if she found out?"

"What would mom say if I told her you were drinking and driving last night?" Connor swiftly countered, Aaron pointed red-cicle at Connor's nose, "Touche," Connor shook his head as he tore the wrapping off, "Please tell me that was a one-time thing."

"Connor..." Aaron breathed, shaking his head as if to start to defend himself, "Aaron, I'm fucking serious, don't, I don't want to see you die. That football accident nearly killed mom." Connor pressed, as his brother smacked his hat down with a small laugh, "Ok... Ok. I'll do better."

"No, Aaron, that insinuates that you're still going to do it. I want you to fucking stop. I don't want to come out here to get your dead body.... Don't make me do that Aaron." Connor exhaled, tearing up behind his hat, keeping it low until he had enough strength to look up at his brother.

"Hey... Hey, Connor, ok... Ok, you win, don't cry, I don't want to deal with a crybaby." Aaron conceded, pulling up Connor's hat before he was ready. "Hey, I promise... The guys are going to make a big deal out of it, but I promise I won't drink unless someone else is sober... Love you."

"I love you too," Connor accepted blushing at his own words, feeling instead put on the spot, until he hid his face from view with the rim of his hate, a heavy arm came across Connor's shoulders, just as Connor was tasting the raspberry pizazz, the flavored sugar distinctly tart.

"So Connor, how is school?" Aaron asked after a moment making Connor groan in frustration, rolling his head to the side in suffocating agony, "You sound just like fucking mom and dad, can't we just enjoy the view and watch the ocean for a bit?"

"Connor, you know you should really be focusing on school, not magic practice." Connor rolled his eyes, "Dad told you to say that didn't he?"

"No, Connor, I'm serious; your barely passing your classes. No college is going to take you if you don't keep your grades up, even the ones with magical programs. You can't rely on your magical ability to get by alone, you're not strong enough to solely live off your powers." Aaron scolded, and Connor felt tied down to his spot thanks to his brother's one-armed hug. "But it's the only thing I'm good at."

"Connor, that's not an excuse, you need to study. I don't want you to become some dead-end office worker because you ended up flunking out. I want to see you at least get B's, when I come back this summer, ok?" Connor grumbled in anger, "Ok?" Aaron tapped out aggressively on Connor's shoulder.

"Fucking fine," Connor mumbled in frustration as he started sucking out the flavor from the frozen treat, but that lasted only a second as a sharp sound cut through the air. A High-pitched bass note that caused Connor to keel over the side of the pier just as people started to scream, and run about in terror. The Demon Klaxon's blared in a spinning siren. Connor turned around to watch a long spindly shadow, phase in and out of reality in a blink of an eye, long carving knife fingers, spread blood throughout the crowd as everyone tried to run away and off the pier.

Purple eyes bore down on Connor. Feeling death on the wind, Connor threw his popsicle in self-defense, but all it did was glance by the figure. His blueberry treat collided with the dripping blood on the pier, freezing it into a solid red mist. The seven-foot shadow approached with a slow meandering step. Pushing past Aaron, Connor clapped his hands together, as if to squash the daunting figure.

"Art of Binding number twenty-three, entrapped by heavens gift, locked by light, the key cast away, darkness be bound, Solar Cell!" Connor called out, spikes of white light thumped in a circle around the demon, forming a flat-topped birdcage. A Ring of rotating light circled Connor's clenched hands, the seal formed and stable. However, the very basic spell left Connor short of breath, his body felt weak, but he closed his eyes and steadied himself.

When he opened them, the night shadow was gone, and Connor was falling backward, in the two seconds Connor had before his back slapped into the water below, he watched as Aaron was cut in half, his chest and head falling into the water a second later. The thick skin searing smack echoed out beneath the pier. Connor's breath was stolen by saltwater, tossed by the waves, barnacles, and weathered wood struck the back of Connor's head, darkness smothered him as the waves drew him out to sea.

The last thing Connor swore he heard was the sad song of an ancient whale shudder through the water.