When I'm heavy with worry make me light as a feather
When I'm deafened by anger you're the song I remember
With the grace of a dancer and the strength of a pillar
When I'm starving to suffer you just fill me with laughter
You're a poet
And a saint
You are the only one I choose to imitate
- Bright Eyes

Two Oh

Viki claimed a space of her own, first center-stage on the floor, taking in the whirlwind rows of books. Her nose tipped up, as if to breathe in stains of ink and aging parchment. A twirl. Always the dancer. Patchwork finery a rainbow blur, and then, she stopped. Mid-blink, she took a step toward the bed, pausing again to gather herself. ?Everett, your room is very old.?

Everett watched her, fascinated as ever by her dance, by her color. ?How do you mean this?? His voice was much quieter in the intimate space, though not without its own music. Everett scratched at the back of his head. ?Grandfather old?? Grandpa Ogden had indeed been very old. He smelled funny.

Two-toned hair now hung at odds with her elbows, curling in contrasting color as she dipped her head lower. A blink of aqua, a slow trickle down the features of his face, all youth and raging innocence, but yet, something lingered at his mouth. She brought a hand there, to hover above two lips, not quite touching. She was so careful-careful-careful. ?Old like. ah... Words before aging. Your words are older than you and the cling all to the walls.?

That was certainly better than Grandfather old. In fact, Everett took it as a compliment, blushed just slightly. ?I thank you.? He liked the idea that at least the walls could feel his impact. ?Gideon...? He swallowed, took a breath, and continued. ?...he offered to publish my words, all of them, to put them into the world. I do not know how it sits with me.?

A new flush, akin to the berries she borrowed from the field, a stark contrast to the rest of her pallor. The hand hovered there a moment longer, catching his breath between her slender little fingers. ?The World is in need of Ever.? She smiled behind a curtain of mismatched curls, then let her hand fall and simultaneously fell with it, onto the mattress beside him, taking up a lazy lounge between himself and the wall. ?Know how he sits, though.? Offhand singsong, and a glance to the ceiling where she sat.

He flushed at the combination of her strange proximity, bouncing the heat of his own breath back to him and of her comment as she placed herself beside him. ?Do you know?? Curious. Warm. Horrified. All the typical emotions that announced themselves plainly when he spent time with the well dressed gentleman.

?Mm, in-between, cause he is such a creature, though I did naut ever speak so with him.? A frown. And why was that? How had she not managed to catch him off guard and deliver up all those intimate details? The question held more weight with the passage of time. She carried it on small shoulders, which she pressed against Everett.

Everett?s voice lowered considerably, as though to keep secrets from the walls. He whispered, an anguished thing. ?Is it not a sin to be so?? He was very frightened of Gideon, for Gideon, but not, perhaps, for the reasons he ought to have been. ?Is it not against nature?? He leaned towards her a little, for the fever heat of her calmed him like the whiskey, like summer rain. Shallow breaths, for his tormented heart pained him even life he drew into his lungs. Visions of many swam through his thoughts.

He asks a fairy about nature. The little thing shrugged again, this time crumbling fabric between the two, his and hers, though she did not seem to notice, and eyes dipped to the forgotten floor, though did not linger for long. ?Lover is love is bodies without borders.? Sensing his fear, the girl turned full on, gathering his hands into her own. Maternal instincts, though near-forgotten, were not entirely abandoned. She had her own brood, somewhere. Best not to think of them. Best not go tumbling into the past. A blink, and he would find her eyes a bit more glazed than usual, perhaps for the well of emotion she had withheld thus far. No matter. She would soon be a scattered thing again, a smiling tragedy in obnoxious color.

Everett spent a long moment focused on those eyes, and thought for a moment his might spill. Instead, he leaned forward and planted a kiss, right on her forehead. When he leaned away and looked at her, a cant to his head as he said what she already knew. ?Hearts, they bleed. Mine is stuck in Warwick.? Though some would change that. Everett wanted to just be unencumbered by it all. He was starting to figure out he was right in the middle of a great deal of deception via omission, one of his most despised crimes. And yet he would commit it. ?I think if I go home, I shall die. I worry if I stay in this place, I shall sour.? Neither option seemed viable. But then, there were tender moments were he felt safe, where he felt relevant, and they gave him hope again. Viki was such a moment, and again, his senses devoured every precious element of her. Dear friend. Dearest, in this moment. ?More should be like you.?

A touch of lips, and how they carried traces of foreigners, though she wouldn't let him know. Lashes fell immediately, a soft touch to the tops of cheekbones, holding steady there as her arms extended out for him, her thin limbs curling around his middle. She had to dip beneath his own arms in doing so, so that she might not render him completely immobile. It was a hug like none other, no hard pressure or sense of desperation, just a simple lean-in and capture, her head stuck between the pit of his arm and the top of his chest. Her cheek pressed to his collarbone, moving with the rise and fall of breath. ?Do naut die. Do naut go the way of blue-and-gold.? Her voice wavered, no longer singsong, but slowly became more steady. ?You will naut sour because.. because..? A trail of words as she opened her eyes, looking out, though raising her chin so that she might look up to him. ?.. because you are naut milk.? An echo of strength. She meant to reinforce that fact, though at times the youth seemed softer than even she.

He held her there, like family, mirrored pain, and rocked a little. Instinct there, many years of being taunted and teased and then rocked by a mother or a grandmother. Occasionally even John, his sweet brother for whom he readily ruined his own world. ?Nay, sweet. I am not milk.? A little laugh at her wise words, charmed and charming. ?You mustn't let this world sour you, either. You are honey, sweet, guarded by a thousand bees that might sting and then perish for you. Though you are not so passive. Perhaps not honey, but just a wild all the same. Words fail women like you.? He released her at last to get a drink of water from the bottle he kept. Emotions ran high, and stifled. No matter that the weather had allowed for fresh air and an open window all day.

Feet ensnared by slipper-shoes lifted off the floor. Gravity pulled at the heels, until they were dangling off the tips of her toes. She let them, for a second, and then kicked at the air, sending both flats to the floor. Objection sounded with a small thud, and a glimmer beneath lantern light. She cared little. The motion was planned. She wanted to curl against him without soiling the sheets. The seer's shoes often made souvenirs of the forest and the road. And curl she did as he rocked her, and she lost herself with the back-and-forth and the gentle words that poured from the poet's mouth. He was familial then, as if he had been born of the same womb. ?You are..? Too much? The girl slipped from him slowly with his advance for the water, closing her eyes once more, perhaps to bask in the heat of said emotions, perhaps to succumb to the little sleep.

Everett uncorked the pretty glass bottle and drank from it at length, strolling back to beside and extending it to her in offer. ?Are you thirsty, Mistress?? Everett always longed to please those around him, that childhood quality had never faded. He powerfully longed to please those who pleased him so. Viki lightened his heart, even when he was drowning in the world around him.

?Called me Mistress..? Snippet of amusement for the air at her side, though it was heavy with small heartaches and fumbled with confusion. She let her hand drop and sift through it, as if to sort everything out. If only life were that easy. Aqua eyes blew open and settled on the youth again, and a sudden smile leapt replaced her tortured expression prior. ?Nau. . The tea and the whiskey were well. Amvel, Ev-ver-ett. I mean, thank you.? Tongues were often crossed. She'd use the Lover's and the Common all at once.

He set the bottle on the table beside the bed and sat again, near her, brushing a fond hand across her crown, noting the texture of the wild hair with interest, but without motive. His lips pursed at length, and he watched her carefully, wishing to pluck the heartache from her. ?I would meet the Lover. I would know him.? He longed to look on the fellow that he might have a better sense of who could capture the heart of such a thing. Weeks ago he might have envied, but that passed, and only curiosity remained. It was written on his brow plainly. He always did wear his heart on his sleeve, and the great majority of his thoughts.

?You will.? A slow sigh as her head pressed to his hand, unruly locks in utter rapture. ?Tell me a story.? Lilt and plea blend into one childlike combination, both whimsical and weary. She let her head fall to her shoulder while a knee lifted to her chin. The other leg still dangled over the side of the bed. And patchwork billowed around her like one abstract cloud. Everett may wear his heart on his sleeve, but the seer wore hers in chaotic stitches.

A dreamy little smile as they shared the weary moment. The hour of the day was languorous, and he thought a long moment, trying to find a happy corner of the past to walk them towards. No need to dwell in the heavy. When at last he launched into his tale, he went into great detail about one of his first times out causing mischief with his brothers. It was a time before William had outgrown him, leaving him the runt of the Ogden littler. Happier days, before women and obligations to anything out side the farm. Four boys, two big, two small, running through the fields to steal some fruit from the orchard of a cantankerous fellow who had been rude to their grandmother once. Petty mischief in the guise of nobility. He laughed as he thought on those days, the way John looked after him, the way Christopher was a ringleader among the little men, and the way William looked up to him then.

Viki moved again, jostling fabric and joints and mattress, falling flat on her stomach to listen, elbows pressed into the bedding with her chin in her hands. Feet moved through the air, a light sway of bare legs, the posture one might take when completely involved with a narrative, and so she was. Eyes closed to better envision the sights and smells and scenery that was his home in that far-away land, a name of which often got stuck between her teeth. His laughter roused her, and sent her spiraling back to reality, but visions of the youth still circled her head. Sugarplums, the days of his yore. ?I would know them too.?

It ended with Christopher bloodying his head falling off a fence and the rest of them spinning elaborate lies to their mother, who naturally knew every bit of what they were up to. The further into that summer day he crawled, the more he spoke with his hands, and with his heart. Inkstained fingers danced in the negative space, and her laughter only encouraged him. He was animated, and for those moments, he was very much at ease.

Animated, that was the word for him, and as his own energy rose, hers languished. Reality and fantasy blended into daydream, or, to be more accurate, waking dream, for the sun had set too long ago. She let herself sink into sheets and bedding, reclaiming his space, letting in a bit of summer for early spring.

?They should like you, I think, though they are not much like me.? Everett leaned back, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on his lips. Everett missed them powerfully, but it was not entirely felt in terms of sadness. He was pleased for what he had done, he knew, especially as he thought of easier days, that in leaving them behind he had not just made the best decision, it was also the right one. Ev would never grow into himself in that little place with those people who doted too much on him. He required the terror of being alone. ?Your turn. I would hear your story.? A fond smile as he peered at her through spectacles that were all kinds of off center. He did not seem to notice.

Some might say that sunshine follows thunder
Go and tell it to the man who cannot shine
Some might say that we should never ponder
On our thoughts today cos they will sway over time
Some might say we will find a brighter day
- Oasis

Red Dragon Inn, Upstairs
Several Days Later

Picture perfect in the middle of the hall, with her patchwork spread out in a perfect circle all around, seated as if for a photograph, with her head tilted just so, and her hair not so unruly. Viki had bathed, she had preened, and now she was pressed to a door - room eight, to be exact, and was staring rather suspiciously at seven.

That was one of the only sights in the known universe that might have given Everett pause. Pause he did, her name a little choked in his throat. ?Viki?? Emotion ran high in the gentleman, more often than most would be allowed to realize. She knew though. She always knew. The tilt of his head a mirror of hers as he regarded her. ?Are you well?? There was a slight mist to his eyes. Nothing was wrong, in particular, but many things were a little left of right.

He is tortured.

The seer turned her head, but not her eyes. Off-blue cut through that enemy door just as sure as they were little knives in the night, and she a practiced bandit. She extended a finger, only to point, then finally turned to look at him, and perhaps, really see. The fog lifted, and she was a lucid creature for a moment, peeling patchwork from the floor to dart into his arms, or he into hers, whichever his preference. ?Well, well, Ever and ever.?

A bit of both, no doubt. He gathered her to him, precious, like the way she had gathered so many colorful scraps of fabric. Ev pressed a kiss to the very top her head, grateful for a friend, for a kindred spirit. She practiced a different sort of poetry. ?I was going to bed.? Another tight squeeze and he withdrew to continue down the hall. He knew that she would follow, or not, as was her strange little custom.

But the seer was a customary creature if one took the time to record her habits. Follow, she did, adding a bit of color to the length of his shadow, small fingers ensnaring the poet's hand as he neared his room. ?A kiss, Everett, for a kiss.? And she blessed the top of his third knuckle with unpainted lips, then allowed him to reclaim his instrument. ?I would stay with you, if you are wanting it.?

?I would invite you, if you are wanting it.? Everett put the key in the lock and turned. If she was anything like any other woman in the world, she would take one look at his new roommate and greatly desire an invitation. The door opened, and the riot of color would meet a riot of tiny ferocity, of fur, of grass green eyes, and a fierce, demanding mew. He was too little yet for a me-ow. ?Good Evening, Benny.? The kitten bumped up against both sets of legs before Everett scooped him up and offered him to Viki, for inspection.

Well, there you had it. Instant love and adoration crisscrossed the plains of the seer's little face, bringing a new glow to rosy cheeks, a new brightness to off-blue eyes - especially as they tumbled into grass green ones. She shuffled inside, paving the way with red-slipper shoes, and offered up her hands and arms and anything else the kitten might wish to curl into. A glance at the patchwork. Yes, there were many pockets he might call a temporary home. ?Vendui' Benny!? Sharp in singsong, an upturned chin, an offering for bodily warmth. ?I am wanting it Ever and always.?

Who knew what Benny would do with that? Probably meet her as fearlessly as he met everything else. He was aptly named, indeed. Everett went through his usual ritual. ?I am very weary, Mistress. I am very soon to sleep.? His heart was heavy, a thing almost as palpable as the latent electricity that still hung in the air of room two-oh. Two nights past had cast a long shadow. Maybe everything had shifted a little.

Consumed by the kitten as the two collided, she let him wriggle and worm his way into her arms and down the front of her dress, eventually settling to the floor again, for she did not like it when it was so very far. Gravity was a constant in her world of ever-changing realities. She pressed her face full of fur and allowed the cat to swat at a rebel curl. But something else. Distraction had been easy, but it was becoming harder to ignore the heavy air. She brought in summer, but something held the taint of iron, and old. With a twitch of her nose, she nodded to the youth. ?Sleep is well. I will be quiet or at your side and if so, I would be both.?

?Just be, Sweet friend.? He replied over his shoulder, a weary little smile through the eyes still pink with the recent threat of tears. Everett peeled the shirt from his slight frame and chucked it across the room. No need to stand on ceremony. Once beneath his blankets of his bed, he pulled his spectacles from his face and set them on the table beside him.

A ribbon took to the air with all the movement from both girl and kitten, and when the feline had it in his line of sight, he near pounced, near, as it was more of a tumble, for he was a very young cat. The seer smiled, with sleep stitched in the corner of her very pink mouth, and concern washing over the rest. She peered up at Everett, then looked about the room. Slowly, the pieces were coming together, but she had them all backwards and upsideodnw. ?Bodies are bodies are bodies.?

Viki shot up then, red shoes, two-toned hair, colorful flare, and sat at his bedside. ?Nau tears for dreaming..? A lilt lacking question. It was meant to comfort, though it could've been a demand.

?It has been a week, my friend. We shall speak more of it when I am more myself.? He patted one of her hands, a reassuring gesture. He was not wholly in pieces, thanks to her. Had she not stayed that night before, he could hardly imagine at what mad state things would be.

?Xas.? And with that, she had swallowed the rest of her words, her eyes lingering on the hand which had so recently held his own. Lashes swept over her eyes just as the kitten made another attempt to sneak-attack the ribbon. She eyed the bed, the space she had claimed prior, and outlined a foreign imprint, but kept the riddle-ramble in check. No, not now. Patchwork princess simply curled there, arms out for the one she would call brother, to take in youth and tortured beauty into her own form of it. Perhaps they had been manufactured from the same factory, though she might have gotten a bit lost along the conveyer.

Everett rolled to fall into her arms, and it was a very different sensation. It was all comfort and no want. No strange electric pressure, coming in waves of too long glances and gentle touches. The silence with her was peaceful. With Gideon it had always been too loud. ?Tomorrow when we wake, I shall make pancakes.? He had been denied the opportunity with his most recent bedfellow. He would instead lavish that privilege upon one more likely to stay.

?Strawberry.? A small request to chime in his ear as she drifted, her head finding that space between shoulder and chest, just beyond breath and slightly above heartbeat. Arms coiled about him, and fingertips trailed that line between neck and patch of hair. Soft sighs, the slow slip of Sight, and soon enough, sleep.

Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I'll go on to bring you home
All because I'm
All because I'm
And I'll become
What you became to me
- Goo Goo Dolls

She did See everything, did she not? Everett turned his gaze down to her, shifting a little in his place. The question was a tricky one, with too many extra words in his mind to answer in a succinct fashion. ?Gideon?? The question was more to buy him another minute than anything else. He blushed as he said the name, as he thought of some of his more private moments. Funny what made him blush, nothing had really escalated into anything all that rash by local standards.

?Xas. Him.? Naut-Everett, the seer had dubbed him once, for reasons which included the misplacement of his name, and the stark contrasting personalities. She held her cheek for a spell, perhaps in the patch where an uninvited touch had once been. Her hand moved to her jaw, then lingered along the slope of her throat.

There was an echo.

?Viki! Listen to me. Nothing is more important. Everett cannot know, he must not know. Because I love him, I would spare him the knowledge that devils like me exist!?

?Loves you very much. Says you are all the good in the world. Did I naut say the same that one time? You know? When you looked at me with different eyeses?? Whatever darkness held her, it was gone in a flash. Her look was utterly impish, the fairy fever only adding to the sylvan effect.

?He does say that he loves me.? He tucked his lower lip between his teeth, thinking up the right way to phrase it. Despite certain harsh realities that had recently come to light, the most pointed of them being that she had never loved him as he had believed, the fractured pieces of Everett Ogden's broken heart still belonged to his brother's wife. So long as Anne held that claim, he would not truly love another. Not the passionate and devoted way in which he loved. ?Nobody else says that, not the way that he does, and not the way that he looks. It makes me feel weak and wonderful. It makes me feel guilty. I can hardly deny him, and I would sooner break my own heart again than hurt him, if I could prevent it.? He chucked the apple core into the bushes where it may return as food to the earth. ?To say that I love him, the way I think of love, would be a lie today. I am still in love with Anne.? The words that followed that admission were very quiet, and strangely composed. Perhaps it had not really hit him yet. ?She never loved me.?

We do not see this ending well.

All that bottled sorrow would slowly surface in the seer, and her eyes became blurred with tears that were not her own. She caught the hand that flung the apple core, fingers claiming the spaces between his own. Jinx, the dog, was perfectly obliviously to matters of the human heart, and gave chase to the fallen fruit, leaping from her foot back into the brush, a blur of speckled black and white. ?Sometimes.. Hearts are too big.? She lifted her face to the sky, as if to have a word with the Maker on the matter. The wind whipped a sharp reply, laced with perfume from the sprawling fields of flowers, from the bowing trees. ?Sometimes.. Memory can rot them.? A fair warning, warmed by the light of the sun. She pressed closer to him, her face in his shoulder. She did not want that to happen to Everett, even if Gideon was a devil. Better lay with a devil than walk with a shell.

He tucked his arm around her, comforted her in the grief that was not hers, pressed a fond kiss to the top of her head. ?Only if memory closes a place down. Where there is life yet, things shall not rot.? A little sigh for his silly predicament, and he smiled against it, for what use were tears? None at all, unless your eyes were dry. ?No hearts rotting here. Bleeding, yes, but time shall remedy even that? Do you not think so, dearest?? And dearest she was, as much as any these days. She had usurped places in the social hierarchy of Everett through no fault of her own. Another kiss to the top of her head. ?You smell very nice.?

Distracted dancer-thing, though seated, still had the element of ballet, with pointed toes and swinging legs and curled arms through one of his. She didn't latch there, didn't cling. It was only a press and a loose hold, one that could easily be untangled if the bookish youth needed to return to his work. Such heavy conversation in the noonday sun. Such a long string of words. She grappled with sound as he blessed her head twice with kisses. The term of endearment stirred her heart, quieted her stolen sorrow. ?Time is sometimes, well, I do naut know him very well. He is all wrinkles and he walks with a cane, or so I hear, and means to hit us on the head. Lose our beauty. But lose our bad days, too.? She glowed at the compliment, quite literally, though maybe it wasn't quite noticeable in the light of day. Stars were always outshone by the sun. ?Bel'la dos.? Sweet wines wafted on the wind. She hugged his side again, giggling between the wrinkles and ink stains.

?Do not fret over me. Your laughter is better for us both.? Indeed the cheerful tones of her giggling brightened his humors and set him at ease, making that last request an easy one. ?I should soon return to the library. An hour is not very much time, and I have many words left to write for them.? This time of year seemed to bring in more clients who needed the unique services of a scribe, and he did not want to leave his colleagues alone for long if there was a terrible queue. ?Where will you go, this afternoon?? He wondered how she spent her days. Ev could not imagine her working in any traditional vein.

She did not. Her world was an eternal NeverLand, wrapped in mystery and intrigue, though better spent splashing through the waters near the thicket of her dwelling, or leaping from stone to stone by the riverbed. Often, she did wander, like today, as the trappings of Springtime reigned her in. She had no need for money, as her funds were entrusted to a bank of sorts, donated by blood relations, and other relations she had tied herself to. Surnames were a means of survival. Now, under Domikai's watch, she really had no need for money. The two lived as wild hermits half of the time, when he wasn't out eating eyes and she wasn't out seeing through her own. ?Maybe through the trees, with Jinx, though naut up. I do naut like it when the floor is very far.? A star afraid of heights. Irony threaded between bits of truth.

?I imagine he would like that. There is much to smell among the trees.? So many new smells brought unbridled joy to puppies, perhaps a veritable frenzy of it. At last he untangled from her and rose to his feet. Commerce and responsibility hailed, and he would answer the call. ?Do you need anything, Viki?? A question, and it read in the curved lines of his brow, just as the curve of its mark might on paper.

She gave that some thought, though she needed nothing, she perhaps wanted. ?Might you bring back a book Brother? Naut full of words. Blank. Blank like yours were before you poured yourself all into them.? A glimmer of idea, an ideal one, surely lacking impish intent, like the one prior, where she nearly offered him a certain red handkerchief.

His smile for her was slow and he nodded before speaking. ?A journal? Of course I can. I shall pick one up today. Is there a color that would suit you well?? It was impossible to pick her favorite out of the array she wore daily. It could be nearly any among them, so proud and bright were they.

?Journal. Xas.? The question of color was always impossible, but Tara had always assigned her in purple, though sometimes fitted her in blues before the seer became obsessed with patchwork. The days of ballgowns were long gone. She made her own - forever fearful of the dressmaker and her mirrors. ?Maybe many colors all over? If naut, I will do it. The Lover has paints.?

?You ought to paint it. I will get a white one so that it will take any color you like.? The idea of her with paints assaulting some blank canvas brought a smile, not unlike the one he wore when he watched his nephews play with ink. Their mother had been furious at the mess, but it was well worth the entertainment both to Everett and his brother Christopher, the proud papa. ?I will bring it to you when I see you next.?

She rose, bare ballerina feet, and threw her arms around his middle, a tight squeeze of near-sibling, an echo of what should've been, had it not been for the dimensional distance, and the stretch of time. Thank goodness for happy accidents, although to the two, perhaps their erroneous means of travel was without joy in the beginning. ?Bel'la dos-amvel-thank-you-brother.?

?You are welcome. Anon, dearest.? And with a parting squeeze he extracted himself from the girl and moved back towards the library, rather light in his steps. It had been a very fine lunch hour indeed.

At birth given scars along tender heart liberties
In justice for awkward living situated casualties
They lay dead along your floor
Tareful not to wake them they're sleeping
Tn the morrows good mourning
The dying will discard the wish to live
- Coheed and Cambria

Two-Oh
A Second Later

The hall light in the crack of the door revealed a flash, a riot of color. Paired with the wafting scent, reminiscent of a landlubber?s perfect summer, Maia thought she might push her luck. A whisper. "Little Soldier." Her voice was distinctive, even it whisper, the unique lilt, an accent not quite like any other that walked the world, muddled nine different ways from Sunday.

Wednesday's child relaxed immediately. The key ring was fetched from the floor. ?Xas. It is.?

Viki stepped inside, little red shoes tracking in all sorts of flora and fauna. Off-blues fell into the dark. Everett's room. Everett's room without Everett. For a time, she half forgot that Maia was even there. His shelves were near bare, his bed unslept in. She would fix that. It was her reason for being. ?Do you sleep too??

Shadows cloaked carefully in summer days and pretty sounds, perhaps the smell of rose and jasmine, it was surely Maia. "Not much." She closed the door behind them and locked it, leaning there. No threat was present in her eyes, at least to the best of her ability. Her right hand was balled into a tight fist. "That why you are here?"

?The Foreigner has stolen our Friend.? Fingertipped touch to the middle of her forehead, perhaps in reaction to the brick wall that was Maia. ?Naut stolen, really.? She confessed, fingering the key ring in her left hand. ?I was to visit him. The For...- Gideon took me there.? Shifty eyes settled into Maia. ?If you are naut for sleep then why??

A heavy inhale of bookworm scents, parchment and ink and dust. The seer claimed the bed for herself, her large eyes still wrapped in Pirate. She inched to the edge of the mattress, simultaneously losing her shoes. One hit the wall, toe to heel, the other fell over, upside-down, a dying turtle with its shell to the earth.

Maia countered the question with a question. "Why do you like to sleep here? Do you lay with the poet?" She pulled a hanky from her pocket, wrapped it around her hand, and tied it in a knot using her free hand and her teeth. She wondered who the foreigner was, and how much Viki knew of the vanishing of the youth.

?Xas.? The word from her was wrapped in the casual. No sensual notions. No fire on her insides. She reclined, her spine sinking into bedding, quicksand of cotton fibers. ?But now he is sleeping Elsewhere though I was there and he says he will come back.?

That was an interesting bit of information. The once-pirate took it with a grain of salt and moved to the table. She lit a pair of candles and perched on a chair, ready to spring. Pale, clear eyes studied the Seer in the dim light with a coherent though cautious regard. "You have seen him. I have wondered where he vanished to. I cannot seek him by daylight." She had other affairs to manage as the sun beat down upon the earth.

?Why naut?? She rolled to her stomach, pressing her cheek to the middle of his pillow, which still reeked signs of poetry. A trace of hair. Breath embedded into the cotton casing. For a moment, Viki looked quite forlorn. ?I might show you if you like. I know the way. The Foreigner showed me the way to his home, but he held my hand much too tightly. He does naut like me. He snaps at my face.?

"My days are too busy, and I sleep best in patches of sunlight., besides." Old habits die never, not really. "That is why not." A long pause at the offer as she looked around the room, strangely empty, but not forever, according to this one. "Do you think he is safe where he is?" She knew bloody well that this place had not been all that safe before she had gotten her hands on it.

For a time, the girl was silent, as if she was weighing Maia's words, but in reality, her quiet was a product of memory, of rooftop nights. Why, was it always rooftops? She shivered, and not for the cold. These days, that was near impossible. She rolled to her side, spooning the air, her face at level with the wall and well away from Maia. ?Has promised his safety.?

"Promises are not guarantees, and you've a way of seeing to the heart of things, love." Pads of fingers pressed together lightly, and she could feel her pulse in each of them, strong and slow. The right brow, the whole one, raised into a steep arc. "Do you believe him?" She set her hat to the table. In the wash of candlelight, the single gold hoop through the top of her right ear winked, even beneath the mass of dark curls.

?Believe him very much.? She blew out the air she couldn't inhale, only increasing the room temperature. Her fingers fumbled with the comforter. It did not provide what its name promised. Thoughts of certain promises overlapped with others, particularly the part of her disappearing, and her name unremembered. But ahh, had they not come to an agreement? She turned her head suddenly and shot Maia a smile. It was painted with half truth.

Maia shrugged, rolled those shoulders and settled in. Lower lip was tucked between teeth and then released again. "Then I shall not pay it much worry." Much. A qualifying word. She changed the subject, and this was a fine place for the other line of chat she wished to pursue. "I never had the opportunity to apologize to you." With all those walls in place, she probably felt cold to the Seer, and perhaps in a way, she was. Viki, after all, fell into the dreaded category of 'she.'

The wall was lacking in warm edges, but then again so was Maia. No matter. Maia boasted sound. She rolled again, this time taking the blanket with her, in keeping with a cocoon. ?Do naut say sorry for what thievery has done. It is me. I did naut mean to..? She struggled with her speech, as if at any moment, her fractured mind might spring another fault line. ?Did naut mean to. Do you mean to do away with all dead teeth and those with teeth and other such things? Sulfur smelling.?

"I did not wish to, once. I do not wish to, now, but some things must be done." Eyes flashed, heat against ice, deadly with more knowledge than she had ever wanted. Maia had been wronged, she had been tasted. More than one of her many scars spoke of that. It had attracted attention she did not want from things still a bit beyond her understanding, and she had lost nearly every piece of herself. Even as she sat in that room, the walls raised high and built strong, she struggled to cobble the pieces back together. "Eight years. That was all that I did. No seas, save the traveling. No light, save for sleep."

(Something found.)

Michael plays with stars
Soul Sister won't you take a ride in his car
Late to call
When you wanted to be all
Baby don't be so shy
Rock children hold your heads up high
In the night while I try
And tell the ballad of Valentine
- The Killers

It was Any Other Night, a slow creep-crawl of the moon overhead, the stars shifting position to make way for its cross. The seer was not so distraught over the drag of Time, hardly aware of its presence as it was. Sometimes, she tried, counting seconds in small steps. Now, it was in locks of his hair. Fingertips parted split poet-ends as she lay curled beside him, spreading her attention in fair portions, laying claim to each brunette lock.

Perhaps he was sleeping. Perhaps he was not.

She did not notice if her fussing tickled his brow. She did not notice much at all.

The smiling told her that he was not asleep, and large brown eyes opened up to catch her gaze. Though the light was dim, and his spectacles were on the bedside table, he thought that he could see her very clearly. He wrapped spotted fingers up around her own in capture, chuckling a little.

"Honestly, Viki, I shall never get my rest if you insist on fiddling with that all night. Will you not sleep?" Any other night... he chided, but fondly, without malice or annoyance, only with fact.

?Ohh, but I have slept forever.? As brown found off-blue, she smiled shyly, and surrendered her hand to his. His hair was, more or less, well accounted for. She pressed her head to the shared pillow, crushing curls on the right.

?At least I feel that way, Ev-ver-ett. That I slept forever and ever. But the sheets can have my sound if you are for sleeping...? Did she think her fiddling wouldn't stir him? The answer unclear in aqua eyes. She pressed a kiss to the top of his cheek, reigning in her habitual fidgeting for the now, for his sake..

"No..." A wrinkle of his brow marched to the tempo set by his heart, that old dread for which there was no need. She was no longer gone, and still, he wanted to wrap up and refuse to let go, like she might slip into the stuff of ether like a dream thing. "...you have slept too long. I would see you awake, dearest, while my eyes still see by this light. You will be here in the morning, will you not? There is that gathering of little significance, and I do not wish to face it without you." Everett still could not say goodbye, could not wrap all of him around the idea that he was leaving.

As if on instinct, as if she heard all those silent whispers of his poet heart, she unlaced her fingers from his own ink-stained, retrieved her hand, and then threw the attached appendage around his chest. That same hand slipped beneath him, stuck between his back and the bed. There was no way out now.

With one impish giggle at his ear, she turned to address the severity of his situation, and their fated separation. ?I will be. How much will you have to gather, Brother, and how long? I would make you up another face, if you would like...? To face it, sang the seer, in her strange, riddle-way.

"We will gather and I will make sure that they know, but I do not wish for them to know. It has been so terrible, you know. I cannot tell anyone what my heart says. It says awful, selfish things." And he hated Anne, something he never thought he would do. He swept some of the wild locks from her face, and looked on her with all the seriousness warranted by the situation.

"It is a scary thing, to walk where you are unwanted."

She clung to him a while, wearing his words over wild color, allowing them to seep between the seams and eventually meander their way to her ears. Her eyes took him in, cross-exam, and might have crossed themselves before she gathered enough of her senses to focus.

?Ohh Ever and ever. It is naut so scary if you are in your feet. One and then the other.? She thought on fear, fractured thing, and for a moment quivered against him, as if she had just relived something of the recent...

?Scary things, they walk too. You might walk faster, or carry claws. The Lover has made me some. Would you like to carry them?? Insurance that he'd return, maybe. Her hold on him tightened on the cusp of her question.

"Claws will not help me, it is not her walk, it is her talk that I fear. Her lies. The honey she uses to ensnare them. Like her eyes, deceitful, dreadful eyes. Oh, Viki... How do I make them believe me?" Part of him wanted her to come. He could bring this wild thing home and she would know the truth of things, they was she always did. Her eyes could cut through three brothers and the disappointment of a mother the same way they cut through him... effortless as the wind through an open window.

?It is naut for the making, Brother..? Loose-limbed again, though still coiled around him, she moved from a pillow to a shoulder, and ensnared a leg with her own. Small distractions adjusted the course of eyes, like the number of toes on the poet's left foot. Breath guided her back. The air was easy in lieu of summer, and the mix of sweet wines and ink overlay certainly did not assault the senses, but rather, nursed them.

?Truth is there for always, and does naut require making. Lies suffer easy deaths... False things said to a Lover, to Family, are to be revealed..? Had she answers he was seeking? The wild thing didn't say. ?It is much like the time I walked and walked and the stone said something of eight-two years past..?

One two three four five (toes? seconds? Something). The poet smiled again, and he nodded. "It does make sense. It takes far more effort to tell a false story then recount one of truth. And what of you? What will you do while I am away? Benny will not be here, but I could leave the door open. There will be nothing in here too dear to lose." That was true. No poet. No kitten. No sonnets, no verses, no plays. Just bits of him, rent on the room, and a small mad englishwoman's promise to tidy up now and again.

"How shall I find you, to send you letters? Should they all go here?"

The offer seemed to please her, as it steadied her unpainted smile and brightened her eyes. ?I will be forcing the Flowers up from the ground, and being with the Lover, and xas, I would very much like if it the door were open!? Her language was benign, but the pace was on the rise, so much so that she had to pause to catch her breath, moisten parted lips. Only then, could she weigh his last question. ?It is much better if they all come here, for if they were to Unhome, the Lover would eat the Sender's eyeses.? Her voice dropped, as if to say he had possibly, on occasion, or that she had to interfere.

?Sometimes I will come and sleep, if that is all right. I know it is all right with you but your Foreigner might naut like it so much..?

"He will not be here, you need not worry." A gentle smile for her, and he found himself fumbling over the next bit, feeling rather awkward. He could feel the heat in his cheeks- rather like the heat that always poured from her, though strangely, it did not bother him.

"I have missed you so much. They are afraid to say your name, and when I remind them they look on me with sad eyes. I could not live with myself if you had believed that I had forgotten you. I will never forget, you know, I would wait until doomsday. I know you are to return."

?Oh but Ev-ver-ett, they would know my name always, without sound. I do naut think I should have so many loves, for I feel a small thing sometimes. But I did miss... ? She did not mention her disappearance. She did not speak on the where or the how or the who, but had he just said he knew she was to return, and not that she did? The fairy girl just smiled and pressed another kiss to his cheek, lingering there on stolen skin, reclaimed from the Foreigner. He was hers again, and the time was theirs, so said the creeping-crawling moon.

?And now you go away, and I will wait. So I have your room, and so you have my ribbon still.?

"I keep it with the words I keep for you." Everett leaned in and pressed a kiss to the brow of his strange kin, and wrapped long arms around her at last, to cling tightly to the only thing that really made sense, these days. Everett still had his hope, and that night, it took on the smell of sweet summer wine and the tickle of familiar curls nestled beneath his chin.

She murmured something akin to a promise, something that carried the heavy emotions of his fast-approaching absence, at his throat, at the moment the kiss was given. Then, the sleepless thing seemed to surrender, and all patchwork curves and angles sunk between the poet and the bedding, warmed by the ever-present fairy fever, and warmed too by his presence, however tortured. She did not seem to sleep but lie with sheltered eyes. Perhaps, when he finally woke, the space beside him was not so cold.