Chapter Text
A new type of warmth Sunday has never liked the feeling of numbing feeling of cold air on his skin. His body being naturally cold was the main cause, the opposite to his sister’s warmth that radiated off her, infiltrating any darkness or coldness with pure warmth. The cheerful smile that followed, hands clasped together with his own, not having a care in the world of his piercing skin that now lingered in her own, pure hands. His soul felt cleansed, if it wasn’t so sinful to admit, he would think it felt better than any prayer he had ever done. Sunday would be lying if he said he didn’t miss that feeling. . .
Sunday has finally found somewhere to stay, without having to run around aimlessly in the giant galaxy with no place to go, like a bird with clipped wings. A few weeks ago, he found an average looking spaceship with…. Suspicious looking individuals, that has somehow willing to let him stay, if he helps around with cleaning and chores. Despite his head telling him to turn around and find another place, he agreed to the terms. It wasn’t the ideal place to stay, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The food was average, the very tiny room he was assigned was average, everything about his place was average! Although, it feels peaceful. He will just sit quietly in the corner, trying not to bother anyone. He only interacted with the crew members for his chores, and that is it.
Until now, where the last people he expects to meet again is currently invading the spaceship! It turns out, he should’ve listened to his gut. He found out a little too late, that he was meant to be used as a hostage, since he is now standing with his arms restrained behind his back with a knife pointed at his throat. Yelling and loud sounds were filling his ears, as he tried to ignore the cold knife making him shiver. Sunday’s past “friends” are wielding their weapons, waiting for their opponents next move like it was a turn based mobile game.
“Why can’t I just lay down and disappear for one second….” He thinks to himself. Not the ideal situation, although there is no way his past enemies would fall for this cliche hostage trick. He could easily get out of the hold, but his escape afterwards will be tricky. The nearest exit was blocked by the Nameless, which if they haven’t already noticed his identity, they would notice him. Sunday assumes they haven’t, his features hidden behind a hooded scarf, Sunday eventually choses that it would be best to remain trapped, fleeing if the situation got too dire.
“If you move any closer, this innocent bystander will suffer the consequences, Nameless!” The spaceship grunt who was restraining him yelled, while another grunt who didn’t suffer the wrath of the Trailblazers baseball bat runs up to join him.
Sunday doesn’t feel nervous for the Nameless, he’s a firsthand witness to the great power they hold. Praying for them will be unnecessary, even if he wants to, he can’t. Sunday’s arms were growing numb by the rough hold of the grunt, it was obvious these people meant business, and even though he has cleaned their spaceship for weeks, their hatred for the Express was enough for them to think of him differently. Perhaps it was their plan from the beginning, using a stray as a pawn to get back at whatever they did, while also getting some free cleaning done. It doesn’t matter anymore, he’d just run away again, because who knows how the Express would react seeing who is being held captive. Truthfully, that’s an understatement. It wouldn’t be awkwardness; Sunday can already picture the cold gazes from them, but who can say he doesn’t deserve it?
The atmosphere suddenly changed to Sunday’s surprise, as the Nameless faltered in their step. The lead, Stelle, held her hand out to block the pink girl’s attack. May 9th, or what they called her, rapidly stopped noticing the situation. She begins to shake her head a few times, looking frustrated. “Ugh, playing the dirty tricks now?! How annoying can you guys get!” May 9th exclaimed, slightly stomping her heel into the cold floor. Stelle seemed calmer, she holds her guard up.
The grunt snorted at her remark. “Shut up! You can’t say a word about dirty tricks, you annoying folk are the masters of dirty tricks!” The grunt’s loud voice made Sunday close his eye slightly out of pain.
May…June? November?! …The pink girl somehow seems offended by that lame comeback, taking out her bow once again. At first, she aims at the man that was currently holding Sunday hostage, the action making the grunt surprised, but quickly threatening her silently by pushing the knife closer to Sunday.
Sunday would be worried for his own sake, although he was silently reassured. The pink haired girls’ big eyes look at him with eyes that spoke, “I know what I’m doing!!!” Sunday had no reason not to trust her, given he had no other choice.
She began to fire her bow, so swiftly that the grunts didn’t even notice, that at the last second, she changed her aim to the other grunt, successfully hitting his shoulder. The action made both of her foes caught off guard, the knife from Sunday’s neck dropping slightly. Sunday uses the distraction to step on the grunts foot, earning a curse from the man. Sunday slides himself away from the fight that now occurred between the two girls and one grunt, he knew they could handle it. Trust Sunday’s judgement, those grunts are lucky to only suffer the Nameless and not the actual train,
Sunday sighed, looking for a way to escape this mess. He also needed to tend his neck; the knife did get a chance to swipe across when the grunt got surprised earlier. Rubbing the faint blood away, he begins planning. He needs to find a new spaceship or nearby planet he could wander off too. He grabs his scarf, wrapping the cloth around his cold hands. He did wear gloves, he always did, but somehow, he has found a habit of fidgeting with his hooded scarf ever since he got it. “
You look like you’re freezing, dear Halovian.” A soft, old female suddenly said.
Sunday stopped in his tracks and drove his attention to the individual who called out to him. It was a store vendor that sold different types of silk and fancy looking scarfs. There were other customers around the stall, talking about the different types of patterns and styles. The woman wore one of these scarves too, a beautiful yellow color. She smiled at him, gesturing at her to come closer.
“Pardon?” Sunday didn’t want to sound rude, so he spoke in a quiet manner.
The woman giggled, then stood up from her chair. Her vibrant yellow eyes sparkled in the nearby lamp that stood on the table beside her.
“Perhaps it’s your pale complexion, but your cheeks are so red! These days have been so cold lately, you should cover your head like you do with the rest of your body.” The woman explained without a stutter, she extended her hand out to pick up one of the displayed scarves. Her arms were covered in various bangles, which made pleasant noises every time she moved. Noticing he hadn’t replied yet, he came up with an excuse. He did freeze, but that shouldn’t matter to her. “
"I am quite fin-" Before he could finish his sentence, the woman threw a scarf over his head. The scarf matched the dark blue colors of his outfit, with a pattern of yellow stars stitched into it and ruffles at the ends. It gesture, but there was one problem. The way she put it on, it also covered his halo, making the cloth outline the halo.
I n other words, he looked very stupid right now, like his head was huge and pointy. The woman voiced out a little “oops”, sound, while Sunday adjusted the scarf, making it only cover his actual head. He then removed his halo, showing it off to her. She gasped, reaching out to adjust it around him. Sunday smiled, letting her do what she wants, she's better at styling it. “
Oh, dear you look wonderful in that! Please take it, your cheeks are already regaining color!” The woman clapped, her bangles making clanking noises.
“ Ah, I don’t have any spare coins for it.” He began but was quickly silenced by the woman placing a hand on Sunday’s cheek. Her hand was warm, although it didn’t give the same feeling as other ones would.
“I don’t need money; I create these to share the beauty of my craft, and you suit it way too perfectly! Oh, I would be devastated if you don’t own it. Please, take it,It’s a gift.” She sweetly explained, removing her hands.
Sunday wanted to argue, but he felt like he couldn’t. It would make her sad, wouldn’t it? He thanked her one last time, placing the glittering halo back on top. Now the scarf covered his head without the halo getting in the way. It looked silly. It was okay.
He should’ve asked for another one, for Robi-
.
..
...
As memories went away, he turned back to the fight. The two girls has pretty much wrapped everything up, the grunt was frozen from the shoulders down, crying out insults to the Nameless. They didn’t care, good for them.
Even so, he noticed something. Something they were oblivious to notice. The person that The Pink Haired Girl has shot at moments before was sneaking up to them. He’s armed.
Sunday flinched, should he do something? The girls are talking back to the man at full volume, there was no way they would notice in time, and there was no way that Sunday could run over to stop him safely.
They were in danger.
The man held his gun up, aiming his gun for Pink haired Girl, but as soon he was about to pull the trigger, a flying object got frown at him.
It hit his arm with ease, he yells out in pain. The gun falls to the ground. The two nameless quickly turned back to the noises behind them, the sight before them couldn’t be described.
The grunt lay on the spaceship floor, a circular object being within his arm. His eyes are closed in pain, not only was his shoulder impaled, but his arm also now suffered too. Stelle moved closer to inspect the object.
“Stelle, is that a halo?!” The pink haired girl exclaimed beside her. She probably it noticed while wisely picking up the weapon next to the grunt. Stelle’s face became confused, although her understandable confusion. Not an expected weapon of choice.
it got interrupted by quick footsteps. Sunday, still hidden by his hooded scarf, he made his way over. Squatting down, he picked up his halo, a pained yelped from the grunt, then turned his heel and marched away.
“See…. You and your dirty tricks!” The grunt yelped but was met with nothing. They ignored him. The two girls stood there in skepticism, but Stelle noticed something familiar about that halo. Her face lit up, then pokes pink hairs shoulder.
“March,” Stelle begins, Sunday mentally thanks her for finally indirectly telling him her name. He keeps walking, but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Stelle’s next sentence. “Wasn’t that…. Sunday’s halo?” Stelle whispered, but Sunday heard it.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Marches eyes lit up, putting the puzzle pieces together. “I knew it was familiar! It is, I know it!” March cheered, then turning her head in Sunday’s direction.
“Hey! Hey hey! Come back wait!” March began to stride over to Sunday, Stelle followed. Sunday sighed, accepting his defeat.
Sunday’s ears were ringing, but he ignored it. He turned around to face them, expecting the worst, however….
The eyes he met weren't filled with hatred, it makes him shiver.
“Sunday?” Stelle exclaimed, putting her baseball away. She started talking.
“What are- “
“You’re bleeding, like, a lot!” March cried out, startling Sunday. He placed his gloved hands at his own neck, and yes, he could feel it.
Is this why he acted so reckless? Before he could act, he began to feel his eyes droop. He can’t ignore the dizziness anymore. He began to fall, like a dove with injured wings tried to fly like it did once before.
Unexpectedly, someone catches him before he falls to the ground.
He does not crash to the ground this time.