“I’ll have you go before me,” he decided, doing his best to get over to one side of the vent to little avail. He was fairly thin because they’d never had enough food for him to be anything else, but he was<span style="font-style: italic">long</span>, and small spaces weren’t very accomodating. He managed to twist at the waist and press his back to the wall of the vent enough to create a bit more room, propping himself up with one hand and offering the other out to help Blue across the gap. “Just, if I grab your ankle, don’t kick me in the face.”<br/><br/>The sound of screams that had been echoing in from outside had started to suspiciously die down. He had no way of knowing if it was because the attack had stopped, the survivors were all hushed and in hiding, or something much more sinister. And, if he were honest with himself, he didn’t really<span style="font-style: italic">want</span>to know. He dreaded what the answer might be. His mind wandered to what he’d heard Blue mumble about their mother being taken, and he couldn’t shake it. Taken for<span style="font-style: italic">what?</span>The Realians took slaves, sure; or at least, they were<span style="font-style: italic">presumed</span>to be slaves, but no one knew for sure. All they knew was that people that got taken didn’t come back, and no one found bodies. But Rose Ascolani was mentally and physically inept. She didn’t talk, she couldn’t bathe herself, she couldn’t even sit up on her own. Lex and Marcus didn’t even know if she knew who they were, or if she still had the capacity to know who they were. The Realians wouldn’t get much out of her, unless they were carting her away with the specific purpose of killing her later, like some sort of predator playing with its food. The thought made him ill.<br/><br/>Lex cleared his throat. “So, what kind of name is Blue?”