Dreams of the Tempest

[Nayt]

The fact that her parents-- namely her father --allowed her to go walk Eld home put something of a kink in Akizetsumei's thoughts. She really didn't expect them to! So, then, nothing embarrassing or weird would happen, and she could just go back to her room feeling content and not at all riddled by butterflies in the belly. But alas, they unknowingly messed it all up, and now she was feeling exceptionally nervous again.

With her parents letting them leave, Akizetsumei led Eld outside and shut the door behind them. She walked the steps slowly, checked behind her once, and looked down the short length of space between her and Eld's houses. It suddenly looked miles long.

For the duration of the walk, however short it may have been (or however long it may have felt for someone like Akizetsumei), Akizets kept biting her lower lip, going over the plan in her head, and second guessing herself every other millisecond. When they arrived (and rather silently, at that) at Eld's house, she checked behind her one more time, only to find that there were at least two pairs of eyes watching them. Akizets frowned, took Eld's hand, and tugged on him a bit until they stood in the road between their houses, where only Toushikyo's window overlooked, and there was most definitely not a pair of eyes watching them from up there.

"Ummmm, Eldridge?" she asked meekly, to get his attention. It was dark out, but it was possible even still to see how pink her cheeks were at that moment.

[Zach Kaiser]

While not entirely oblivious to Akizetsumei's agitation, Eld couldn't actually tell it was separate from the general heightened state of nervousness from the entire night. Not that he had long to think about it; it wasn't exactly a large distance between their houses.

"Yeah?" he responded; judging by the color of her cheeks, he probably could have guessed what she was thinking of, but she'd likely respond before he could put it together.

[Nayt]

The girl's reaction, too, took very little time at all. Not even a second, really. To her, though, it was just as long as their walk--minutes, maybe even hours of time spent in her head, debating her options back and forth! Oh, if only her parents had said no!

But . . . wait a second, that would've been terrible! Then she'd never have this opportunity!

Akizets leaned in, up, and without further thought, placed her lips upon Eld's. It was fast, though. A peck, to say the least, but she really had to work herself up to manage it. When she pulled away, she was blushing, but definitely guaranteed to be smiling for the rest of the night.

"I'm really happy you came to dinner tonight," she said through natural falsetto, raised only slightly in pitch by the urge to giggle.

[Zach Kaiser]

Eld smiled, blushing a little in spite of himself. "I'm glad you invited me." And he meant it. Despite his earlier reservations about meeting Gestahl, dinner had went quite well, and ultimately he was glad to have met Akizetsumei's family. They seemed to take the relationship fairly casually too; he'd been slightly worried they'd be more formal, and not let him date her without something like a promise to marry her.

Not that he didn't like Akizetsumei, but it was far, far too early to be thinking about that, and he'd had quite enough of discussing marriage with parents as of late.

"I'll see you later. Have a good night," he said; he'd stay and watch Akizetsumei return to her own house before he went inside his.

[Nayt]

It actually felt really relieving to have gone up and kissed Eld like that! Sure it was just a peck and was totally not as long as their first kiss, but it still felt great! And the fact that Eld was in good spirits over it (at least as far as Akizets could tell) certainly helped her mood skyrocket.

"Mm!" she nodded cheerfully, "See you~!"

And with that, she spun on her heels and practically skipped back home. In fact, she would have skipped home, but her clothes were a bit too restrictive for skipping. She needed shorts or a loose skirt for that. The girl ultimately returned home, returned to her room, and though she was silent with the rest of her family (which wasn't really a problem, as they were all preparing to go to bed, anyways), she was all kinds of talkative on paper. There was a diary in her room, one she kept all kinds of secret from her brothers, that she hadn't actually written in for awhile, but filled a solid three pages with flutter-heart rambling that night . . .

[Nayt]

In Galaens, a drunk waltzed the alleyways. He'd just made the evenings of a whole bar full of patrons, and taking only a lonely bottle of booze home as a companion, he made the long trek back home. He was a heavy set man, balding, and in his forties. He wore thick work clothes, still dirty from a week's worth of non-stop work, but was happy enough to practically dance as he weaved from alley to street, and back again to the alleys of Galaens. It was as if he had music in his head, playing and dictating every erratic step he took.

At least until he bumped into a man standing in his way. It was in the middle of an alley, after a long period of slow walking and head nodding on the drunk's part. The drunk muttered a halfhearted apology to the skinny man in the well tailored black suit, and kept on going. The man he bumped into, however, turned to watch him go.

"Excuse me," said the suited man.

The drunk whipped around, stumbled on his feet, and grinned toothlessly. He waved his bottle about, took a dramatic swig, and dropped his arm like a ragdoll in the wind.

"Yeeeeeeah?" he asked loudly.

"You're the gentleman that bought everyone three rounds back at Jonah's, am I correct?" said the suited man.

The drunk nodded proudly. "Yep. That's me."

"My companions and I appreciated the gesture," the suited man replied, "But . . . might I ask where you procured the funding for such an endeavor?"

The drunk puffed out his chest, "This weeks pay!"

"I see," the man replied. Though the drunk could barely see his face, he could at least make out the man's frown. He continued, "Adding up the cost, you spent roughly forty-seven gold pieces, two silver pieces, and eight bronze pieces, am I correct?

"Sooooomethin' like that," said the drunk.

"Might I inquire," he shifted his hands into his pockets, "Where exactly do you work?"

"Steel mill," replied the drunk boisterously.

"And you gained an upward of fifty gold coins for one week's worth of work?"

"Thaaaaaaaat's correct!"

The man began to loosen the buttons on his jacket. "That must be good pay."

"Best there is, yep." There was a hint of spite in the drunk's voice.

"Do you read the news, by any chance?" asked the suited man without skipping a beat.

"Every day."

"So, then, you read today's story?"

"What's that?"

"About Gregory Harris's lost fortune," the suited man replied as he took a step forward, "Gregory Harris-- you know, the head manager of Galaen's local steel mill? They say he was robbed of a hundred gold pieces. It was a deposit for his safe--you know, in his office? Where only employees can access? He'd only been gone for a minute . . ."

The drunk's demeanor soured. He said nothing, but regarded the man approaching him with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. He tensed his shoulders and swished the remaining liquid about in his bottle, a subtle warning for the suited man to watch his direction. The drunk could not see the suited man's face well at all, but he was sure he caught him smiling.

"Do you hear that?" asked the suited man.

"What?"

"Music. Do you hear it?"

"I . . . what? Guy, you're crazy," the drunk spat, "There ain't no music playin' around here."

The suited man feigned a frown. "Really? Odd. It's quite loud. Bothersome, really. It sounds like . . . a tempest. A tempest on a poorly tuned cello."

"What the hell're you babbling about? I don't hear no--"

From within his jacket, the suited man withdrew a brief silver glint. The sound of a small explosion echoed through the streets of Galaens, stalled gatherings, and woke neighbors across several blocks. A chorus of canine warnings blotted out the hollow thud of a body hitting pavement.

The suited man buttoned up his jacket and fixed its wrinkles. He paid a glance down at his feet, where a miraculously unbroken bottle rolled to a stop. He kicked it to the side.

"Too late, I suppose," he said to himself, "The music's already stopped."

Dreams of the Tempest//Fin.