Silent Lucidity
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain Of someone close to you leaving the game of life ~ Christopher Degarmo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the cusp of weekend, the market was awash with late afternoon window shoppers and booth patrons alike, so much so that it was easy for a tall, pretty girl to blend into the crowd without the sort of leering and catcalling that she had grown accustomed to. All it took was keeping her head down and her hood up as she shouldered through the foot traffic, careful to keep one hand on the cross body bag that bounced against her right hip. To Addie it felt like it was full of lead, dragging each step down with increasing amounts of dread as she approached her destination. She could smell it before she could ever see it, the shop that served as a storefront for the handmade creations of a mad smith. The scent of sulfur was just barely enough to tickle a sensitive nose from a block away, even if she took the long route that avoided a certain saloon of an audacious avian variety she could still pick up the telltale permeation of chaotic workings far greater than any in the city likely realized.
It felt weird going there without Nick. It felt weird going there in general. She hadn't been there since before Nick's arrival, likely even before her overdose the middle of the summer. In short, it had been a while, but as she caught sight of the sign out front, she couldn't help the hollow smile that briefly touched her mouth. For all of the sadness that she carried with her, there was a flicker of home that lived within the walls of that building and dammit, she was going to try to salvage it if she could. Or" at least until she told Kruger that she killed Nick, fully expecting him to kick her out and never speak to her again.
It could go either way. Likely that fact kept her on the street a few minutes longer than needed, stuck at a dead stop as her fellow pedestrians flowed around her, oblivious to the lingering malcontent that hung just beneath the hood. At last she took her hands from her pockets, breathed deep, and pressed through the front door of Kruger's Exotic.
Warmth, if there was anything you could say about stepping into the shop it was the place was always well heated. Heat shimmers passed across the vision the closer you got to the forge itself. Kruger was there, shoving rods and ingots deep into coals then lifting a thick arm to work the bellows chain to breath even greater heat into the fires. He was humming, mouthing words occasionally. Everything was a song to him, or at least needed to have one. It was something that people still didn't really understand about him, though most seemed to accept that he would do it no matter if he was here working metal or in a ring working someone over.
Light broke the dim shop, illuminated mostly by those same flames that he was coaxing ever hotter. It's origin was that of the door, and it died away just as quickly as it closed behind the half expected visitor. His eyes shot towards the light, and the barely recognizable figure of Addie's hooded form. Kruger had a smile for her when he was sure it was Addie. He stopped what he was doing, and stepped away from the furnace of flames. The wards at the swords venue had, over time, healed the scars on his back though they could still be found in infinite tiny crisscrossing lines. He was sweaty, soot clung to his face, but he donned his shirt anyway before turning around to face the girl he had grown to love in his own way.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming. I don't know what all is involved with selling records, but I'm pretty sure immediate plan changes are often involved." He reached up to the neck of the black shirt and gave a tug, stretching it a bit before pulling the hem of his shirt down further. "What brings you back here, angel face?"
"Sorry," she began sheepishly, letting the door close behind her as he got situated with his shirt. It was as good of a time as any to shove her hands back into the pockets of a hoodie that was two sizes too big on her. In the depths of pockets she had a number of things to fidget with if only to keep her hands busy. It kept her from thinking too much. Beneath her feet, a single shadow flickered only when the lighting changed, shifting and obeying the light accordingly. The second, a constant companion for almost two years, was nowhere to be found.
"I lost track of time." It was a half truth, easily told for all the effort that it took. She stepped further into the heat though she doubted it would sooth the chill in her bones. "It's been a long couple of weeks, I guess. Um. You in the middle of something important' I don't really wanna, like, interrupt or anything."
"Everything's important Addie, but these are only things and they rank much lower with me than people. Some people even more than others." He kept his eyes on her for a few moments, still trying to decide what was different about her, beyond the way she seemed to be pulled inside of herself. "You here to talk, or looking for something for that special someone?" That left a broad spectrum out of the list. She almost looked like she wanted to be somewhere else completely. That hurt just a little to think of. Kruger swallowed aside that emotion, and thought.
He knew that it was not to make a purchase, because she'd have had no problem getting those words out. "Upstairs, I have several bottles and a couch that's probably older than you are. It's dependable though." Kruger didn't wait for an answer, he just headed for the door that hid the stairs and headed on up.
"People are important," she mumbled her agreement, glancing off to one side to avoid his gaze. Addie wanted to be anywhere but there but she also had nowhere else she would rather be. It was a conflict that she wasn't wholly prepared to deal with and so it left her on her toes halfway between a hard conversation and a chicken exit. "To talk, I guess. I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest."
As if it were strangling her, she pulled at the strap of her bag, tugging it away from her chest before letting it go to snap back against her jacket with a dull thump. He was on the move but she wasn't, not at first at least. It took her a few moments to remind her feet of their job but finally she started after him for a door she remembered from another time, another place. "If we're getting technical, I'm only supposed to be three-ish by now, so' it doesn't take much to be older than that. If we're talking chronologically, you need a new couch." She said from behind him, plodding up the stairs like her feet were stuck in muck every step of the way. Banter was easier than talking about why she was actually there.
"I need a new couch, but I don't stay here very often anymore." Her comments had him laughing through his response. It was true though, the piece of furniture looked like it has been through several wars. Whatever color and design it had once held was now lost through years of sitting, and more than occasional sleeping on it. It was pushed against a wall, the tall back had long since left a line in the paint as though the thing hadn't moved for a very long time. Kruger bypassed it going to a wooden shelf and looking at the bottles he had. They too were in varying states of newness, including the one he'd taken from the arena last night. He looked back at her, judging her seriousness before reaching way back and pulling out a bottle that only became transparent after he'd swiped the dust off of it. There was no label on it, but the liquid within was dark, and only minimally opaque.
"It's just whiskey, nothing fancy or special. I've kept it as a reminder of a time that things weren't always" good I guess." He went to a cupboard and pulled a couple mismatched glasses from inside of it. "I don't know how old it is, but I've had it for five years or so." The twist he gave to the top came with the sound of a seal breaking, saying without words it was a bottle he'd never opened. Cursory inspection might show that most of what was there had never been opened. He poured for both of them, far more generously than any bartender would. Kruger hadn't asked what was going on, part of him felt that it might be the last thing he would want to hear.
One glass was handed to Addie, as Kruger made his way to the couch, and sat down. An old bottle, one aging smith and an ancient couch. The thought made him chuckle. He needed a new couch. "Sit, or stand. Begin when you need to. I'm not going anywhere."
He was talking but only half of what he said even registered for the younger of the two. At the very least she had taken her hands from her pockets to tug at the edge of the hoodie as she contemplated the merits of sitting versus standing. On one hand, sitting may make it easier to talk, to take her mind off the ache in her feet that had come from aimlessly wandering the city as if daring those who sought her to try again. On the other hand, standing would make it less painful to leave when he inevitably asked her to do so. She took the glass but didn't drink, instead rolling it between both hands as she watched him sit down.
"I did something bad." She began in much the same way she had the night she saw him on the Isle. "And I can't take back no matter how much I might want to. I'm sorry' I" you're going to hate me for it. And" and" that'll suck, but I understand."
Addie took a sniff of the whiskey as if it might sate the overwhelming need to drink it down and then some. It only furthered the craving but she managed enough restraint to set it aside. Once her hands were empty she flipped open the flap on her bag and stuck a hand in. It was right on top so it took little time for her to find what she was looking for. Cellophane wrapped, whatever was within was dark, neatly folded in much the same shape as a shirt would be. Both hands grasped at it tightly as if she wasn't quite ready to give it up but after a moment, she held it out to the smith and took a step back once it was out of her hands.
Within the package was a single jersey, fitted for someone tall, strong, well built. It was in an easily recognizable pattern of pink and black, the latter more prominent than the former so that the lighter color could blare its message boldly across a dark background. Across the front, the stylized font declared it a DIRTY branded article, officially licensed and likely custom made. The back though is what made it stand out. Above a hot pink block number 33 was a single initial and a last name; N. ALLEN. Addie chewed at her lip, forcing herself to watch Kruger's reaction.
"I'm?" Kruger had relieved Addie of her burden, noting several things. The first was that the jersey was not made for him despite the name that it bore. It would be long, and probably tight. The latter was less of a problem. He traced the letter of that first initial with one finger before a shaking hand pulled itself into a fist so tightly that knuckles popped. "You're not saying this?" He wasn't looking at Addie, his head was tilted to the side shaking back and forth doing his best to deny what he was looking at.
"Where is he?" The glass in his other hand made it to his mouth, and was emptied before he dared put it down again. "I'm not blind, or deaf Addie. I hear things, people talk, jokingly tell me how ironic it is that the shield went to someone named Allen." He turned his head to look at her, demanding that she agree with him. "It's a common name, that?" He pointed to the letter once more. "...could be anyone." He nodded as he said the words, a further plea that she tell him it wasn't what was going through his head.
The step back had been intentional, as much for his benefit as it had been for her own. One arm had wrapped around her ribcage, her fingers curling and digging into the fabric at her side. It made a prop for the opposite arm, the hand of which had tightened in front of her mouth, her teeth pinned on the edge of her thumbnail. Her nails had long since been bit down to the beds but still she chewed to keep her bottom lip from quivering.
"It's not irony. It's not anyone. He came back" like I did. From my time" which I guess is different from this one." Something she suspected was her fault. How Nick and Averia had been able to find her, she still wasn't sure. But compared to the growing threat of everything falling apart in the here and now, she couldn't really think too much on it. "A few months ago. H-he was supposed to help me?"
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain Of someone close to you leaving the game of life ~ Christopher Degarmo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the cusp of weekend, the market was awash with late afternoon window shoppers and booth patrons alike, so much so that it was easy for a tall, pretty girl to blend into the crowd without the sort of leering and catcalling that she had grown accustomed to. All it took was keeping her head down and her hood up as she shouldered through the foot traffic, careful to keep one hand on the cross body bag that bounced against her right hip. To Addie it felt like it was full of lead, dragging each step down with increasing amounts of dread as she approached her destination. She could smell it before she could ever see it, the shop that served as a storefront for the handmade creations of a mad smith. The scent of sulfur was just barely enough to tickle a sensitive nose from a block away, even if she took the long route that avoided a certain saloon of an audacious avian variety she could still pick up the telltale permeation of chaotic workings far greater than any in the city likely realized.
It felt weird going there without Nick. It felt weird going there in general. She hadn't been there since before Nick's arrival, likely even before her overdose the middle of the summer. In short, it had been a while, but as she caught sight of the sign out front, she couldn't help the hollow smile that briefly touched her mouth. For all of the sadness that she carried with her, there was a flicker of home that lived within the walls of that building and dammit, she was going to try to salvage it if she could. Or" at least until she told Kruger that she killed Nick, fully expecting him to kick her out and never speak to her again.
It could go either way. Likely that fact kept her on the street a few minutes longer than needed, stuck at a dead stop as her fellow pedestrians flowed around her, oblivious to the lingering malcontent that hung just beneath the hood. At last she took her hands from her pockets, breathed deep, and pressed through the front door of Kruger's Exotic.
Warmth, if there was anything you could say about stepping into the shop it was the place was always well heated. Heat shimmers passed across the vision the closer you got to the forge itself. Kruger was there, shoving rods and ingots deep into coals then lifting a thick arm to work the bellows chain to breath even greater heat into the fires. He was humming, mouthing words occasionally. Everything was a song to him, or at least needed to have one. It was something that people still didn't really understand about him, though most seemed to accept that he would do it no matter if he was here working metal or in a ring working someone over.
Light broke the dim shop, illuminated mostly by those same flames that he was coaxing ever hotter. It's origin was that of the door, and it died away just as quickly as it closed behind the half expected visitor. His eyes shot towards the light, and the barely recognizable figure of Addie's hooded form. Kruger had a smile for her when he was sure it was Addie. He stopped what he was doing, and stepped away from the furnace of flames. The wards at the swords venue had, over time, healed the scars on his back though they could still be found in infinite tiny crisscrossing lines. He was sweaty, soot clung to his face, but he donned his shirt anyway before turning around to face the girl he had grown to love in his own way.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming. I don't know what all is involved with selling records, but I'm pretty sure immediate plan changes are often involved." He reached up to the neck of the black shirt and gave a tug, stretching it a bit before pulling the hem of his shirt down further. "What brings you back here, angel face?"
"Sorry," she began sheepishly, letting the door close behind her as he got situated with his shirt. It was as good of a time as any to shove her hands back into the pockets of a hoodie that was two sizes too big on her. In the depths of pockets she had a number of things to fidget with if only to keep her hands busy. It kept her from thinking too much. Beneath her feet, a single shadow flickered only when the lighting changed, shifting and obeying the light accordingly. The second, a constant companion for almost two years, was nowhere to be found.
"I lost track of time." It was a half truth, easily told for all the effort that it took. She stepped further into the heat though she doubted it would sooth the chill in her bones. "It's been a long couple of weeks, I guess. Um. You in the middle of something important' I don't really wanna, like, interrupt or anything."
"Everything's important Addie, but these are only things and they rank much lower with me than people. Some people even more than others." He kept his eyes on her for a few moments, still trying to decide what was different about her, beyond the way she seemed to be pulled inside of herself. "You here to talk, or looking for something for that special someone?" That left a broad spectrum out of the list. She almost looked like she wanted to be somewhere else completely. That hurt just a little to think of. Kruger swallowed aside that emotion, and thought.
He knew that it was not to make a purchase, because she'd have had no problem getting those words out. "Upstairs, I have several bottles and a couch that's probably older than you are. It's dependable though." Kruger didn't wait for an answer, he just headed for the door that hid the stairs and headed on up.
"People are important," she mumbled her agreement, glancing off to one side to avoid his gaze. Addie wanted to be anywhere but there but she also had nowhere else she would rather be. It was a conflict that she wasn't wholly prepared to deal with and so it left her on her toes halfway between a hard conversation and a chicken exit. "To talk, I guess. I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest."
As if it were strangling her, she pulled at the strap of her bag, tugging it away from her chest before letting it go to snap back against her jacket with a dull thump. He was on the move but she wasn't, not at first at least. It took her a few moments to remind her feet of their job but finally she started after him for a door she remembered from another time, another place. "If we're getting technical, I'm only supposed to be three-ish by now, so' it doesn't take much to be older than that. If we're talking chronologically, you need a new couch." She said from behind him, plodding up the stairs like her feet were stuck in muck every step of the way. Banter was easier than talking about why she was actually there.
"I need a new couch, but I don't stay here very often anymore." Her comments had him laughing through his response. It was true though, the piece of furniture looked like it has been through several wars. Whatever color and design it had once held was now lost through years of sitting, and more than occasional sleeping on it. It was pushed against a wall, the tall back had long since left a line in the paint as though the thing hadn't moved for a very long time. Kruger bypassed it going to a wooden shelf and looking at the bottles he had. They too were in varying states of newness, including the one he'd taken from the arena last night. He looked back at her, judging her seriousness before reaching way back and pulling out a bottle that only became transparent after he'd swiped the dust off of it. There was no label on it, but the liquid within was dark, and only minimally opaque.
"It's just whiskey, nothing fancy or special. I've kept it as a reminder of a time that things weren't always" good I guess." He went to a cupboard and pulled a couple mismatched glasses from inside of it. "I don't know how old it is, but I've had it for five years or so." The twist he gave to the top came with the sound of a seal breaking, saying without words it was a bottle he'd never opened. Cursory inspection might show that most of what was there had never been opened. He poured for both of them, far more generously than any bartender would. Kruger hadn't asked what was going on, part of him felt that it might be the last thing he would want to hear.
One glass was handed to Addie, as Kruger made his way to the couch, and sat down. An old bottle, one aging smith and an ancient couch. The thought made him chuckle. He needed a new couch. "Sit, or stand. Begin when you need to. I'm not going anywhere."
He was talking but only half of what he said even registered for the younger of the two. At the very least she had taken her hands from her pockets to tug at the edge of the hoodie as she contemplated the merits of sitting versus standing. On one hand, sitting may make it easier to talk, to take her mind off the ache in her feet that had come from aimlessly wandering the city as if daring those who sought her to try again. On the other hand, standing would make it less painful to leave when he inevitably asked her to do so. She took the glass but didn't drink, instead rolling it between both hands as she watched him sit down.
"I did something bad." She began in much the same way she had the night she saw him on the Isle. "And I can't take back no matter how much I might want to. I'm sorry' I" you're going to hate me for it. And" and" that'll suck, but I understand."
Addie took a sniff of the whiskey as if it might sate the overwhelming need to drink it down and then some. It only furthered the craving but she managed enough restraint to set it aside. Once her hands were empty she flipped open the flap on her bag and stuck a hand in. It was right on top so it took little time for her to find what she was looking for. Cellophane wrapped, whatever was within was dark, neatly folded in much the same shape as a shirt would be. Both hands grasped at it tightly as if she wasn't quite ready to give it up but after a moment, she held it out to the smith and took a step back once it was out of her hands.
Within the package was a single jersey, fitted for someone tall, strong, well built. It was in an easily recognizable pattern of pink and black, the latter more prominent than the former so that the lighter color could blare its message boldly across a dark background. Across the front, the stylized font declared it a DIRTY branded article, officially licensed and likely custom made. The back though is what made it stand out. Above a hot pink block number 33 was a single initial and a last name; N. ALLEN. Addie chewed at her lip, forcing herself to watch Kruger's reaction.
"I'm?" Kruger had relieved Addie of her burden, noting several things. The first was that the jersey was not made for him despite the name that it bore. It would be long, and probably tight. The latter was less of a problem. He traced the letter of that first initial with one finger before a shaking hand pulled itself into a fist so tightly that knuckles popped. "You're not saying this?" He wasn't looking at Addie, his head was tilted to the side shaking back and forth doing his best to deny what he was looking at.
"Where is he?" The glass in his other hand made it to his mouth, and was emptied before he dared put it down again. "I'm not blind, or deaf Addie. I hear things, people talk, jokingly tell me how ironic it is that the shield went to someone named Allen." He turned his head to look at her, demanding that she agree with him. "It's a common name, that?" He pointed to the letter once more. "...could be anyone." He nodded as he said the words, a further plea that she tell him it wasn't what was going through his head.
The step back had been intentional, as much for his benefit as it had been for her own. One arm had wrapped around her ribcage, her fingers curling and digging into the fabric at her side. It made a prop for the opposite arm, the hand of which had tightened in front of her mouth, her teeth pinned on the edge of her thumbnail. Her nails had long since been bit down to the beds but still she chewed to keep her bottom lip from quivering.
"It's not irony. It's not anyone. He came back" like I did. From my time" which I guess is different from this one." Something she suspected was her fault. How Nick and Averia had been able to find her, she still wasn't sure. But compared to the growing threat of everything falling apart in the here and now, she couldn't really think too much on it. "A few months ago. H-he was supposed to help me?"