Offtopic: Another one shot. I don't know. I wanted to write something to do with Aria.

Aria's first experiences in the Unreal City of Memoria were maddening. Hard to bear. She arrived with scant few memories to call her own and lost within permanent silence. She was dragged into a small yet bustling community, physically incapable of comprehending anything and everything they did. It took so long for her to get used to it--for someone to teach her how to understand, how to try to blend in, and how to speak. It was chaos. She couldn't get used to it. She learned fast, but she could never accustom herself to it.

When it ended--when all her ties to that chaos came to an end and their small society failed to notice her slipping away from, however solemn the conclusion may have been, Aria allowed herself the right to recluse: she shut herself off from them, pitched herself a home in a small living space at the far edge of the Unreal city, and was mostly lost to the eyes of her fellows.

Just another lost ghost.

But she was never lonely after it all. Aria steeled herself after her losses, shut herself away, and took solace in the peace and stillness. The world, forever silent to her, was judged by its stillness. Constant motion made her nervous. Loss made her world break down. She couldn't deal with it all. So be close to so many people was to know the guarantee that she'd lose them all.

Until Ozrik, that is. It all felt so natural. She never noticed how attached she became to the man. Aria met him in the road one day, in the midst of her routine walk to the Market to use her rations for sweets. He was fighting with another, and she was nearly dragged into it. To apologize, her carried her on his back to the Market and carried her back to her house. Although uneasy, Aria accepted his offer--and was far from impressed by the great speeds the man preferred to travel. It made her nervous, afraid that he'd let her go and she'd bust her head off the ground or worse.

It was all so natural, the way things developed. Ozrik visited her; he was scarce at first, until she became accustom to seeing him. Then he showed up more often. He invited her outside, to his place, to the Market--just about anywhere they could go for a friendly walk.

Aria became comfortable with his presence, but she didn't notice it. She didn't even notice how their relationship developed so quick; how she moved from hermit to this man's friend. Or how they became more than that. But it was all smooth. Natural. She'd no complaints. She'd met his friends. He didn't force her to be with them all the time, either. They were alone most of the time, and Aria was comfortable with that.

Before Ozrik, Aria didn't mind being alone. It never felt that way, loneliness. It was always calm, peaceful, tranquil. But when Ozrik took a job that had him out of the city--that had him away from her . . . then Aria began to understand what loneliness really felt like. She couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned; she paced restlessly, she tried to imagine what it would be like to have him there with her, to strike up conversation with him and feel his heartbeat with her hand.

They never had to do anything. Nothing special. Aria did things for him; it simply made since for things to happen that way. He was a social creature, and among other things, he was a man. He became frustrated when he was sedentary for too long, he liked to talk and see his other friends, too, and he enjoyed intimate moments. Aria, however, was just fine being in the same room with him. Her appreciation of Ozrik was harmless. Aria enjoyed speaking with him and taking comfort in his embrace--or simply just having her hand upon his arm or chest or face or shoulder.

Comfortable company. It was all Aria ever wanted. She didn't mind doing the other stuff that came with a relationship, though. It was just weird and a bit embarrassing to think of. But now, with him out far beyond the city limits, out into the gray wilderness of their dead world, Aria had nothing left to feel but anxiety and the true weight of her loneliness.

Ozrik was supposed to be coming home soon. Not forever, but for a little while. His job had him out for lengths of time, back for a short period, and then out again. Aria planned to insist that she come with him this time. For that reason, she wanted to catch him off guard--in a good way, that is. She wanted to give him a good surprise--show him why he should bring her along when he goes back. And then . . . what if the men there wanted her to leave? Would they tell her to walk back?

No. Not at all. No one was that cruel. So, it was just a matter of convincing Ozrik to bring her. Aria didn't care about the danger anymore. She was so tired of feeling restless and lonely. So tired of fearing the day that he just wouldn't come back home.

So, with two weeks worth of rations saved up, the short girl with her short and ruffled hair--colored somewhere between green and blue--bundled up warmly and set out for the Market.

The man running the market had a preference for warm clothes, tattered though they may be. He was somewhat tall and skinny as a board; he usually wore a toboggan, which covered his entire brow. A short bush of hair spilled out from beneath it.

He always sat back at a front desk, set near the entrance to the Market--which was, in actuality, just another great Hall that had been converted to house the food of his make. It was all just flavor. Truth be told, Memories didn't need to eat as they were. It was only under special conditions that they ever experienced something like hunger or fatigue; for the most of them, for people like Aria and Ozrik, one simply ate for the sake of flavor. It wasn't true food in any sense of the word, either.

Just an imitation.

But a very convincing imitation.

The Market had more than food, though. Sometimes the owner carried supplies, tools, and furnishings. It was the only place most of them ascertained any goods at all.

Standing before the man's desk, Aria parted her lips to speak.

Though she was deaf, Aria could speak. It was difficult for her at first, but she eventually learned to recognize the speech patterns of other people around her: the way their lips, tongue, and throat moved, often subtly, in order to form speech. Lip reading became her only source of understanding language. Speaking it was an equally as difficult process: she had to learn to control the vibrations of her own voice to produce the right sound. It was imperfect and remains imperfect, but is at least a bit less noticeable anymore. Aria often had to break words into syllables and her vowels were almost always over pronounced, always very noticed, but she was easily understood by that point in her life.

Of course, she hadn't learned this without help--but Aria scarcely thought about that anymore. Those memories drudged up all kinds of unpleasant feelings.

She knew this man. His name was Greis, and he both created and ran the Market. He didn't talk about himself much, so she was unable to figure out why exactly this man established it, but it was good--so she didn't mind. She'd gotten many a sweet treat at this place. So, he knew her. He knew she couldn't hear a thing, knew that she could only read lips to understand things, and often accommodated her.

He didn't even call her disabled. That's why she still came here for sweet foods. If he ever said she suffered, she was disabled, or handicapped in some way, Aria would have taken a small attitude for him and never came around again. She didn't feel that she was suffering in the least. She just had to work a little more to communicate than others did.

"I am loo-king for some-thing for some-one," Aria declared meekly.

Unfortunately, the girl was also irrevocably socially backwards. Though, she'd talked to Greis enough that he must've understood that by now . . .

Aria watched the way he spoke; the way he lifted his head; the way he parted and shut his lips before he spoke a single word; and the way he seemed so lethargic when he said a word. He was one of the hardest people to read that she'd ever met.

Oh yeah? Who are buying for?

At least, she thought he was asking them both as questions. One could've been a question and the other a statement, or vice versa. Or maybe they were both statements. With his brow covered and the lethargic way he carried himself, it was impossible to find any deeper meaning in his words.

"Ahsrich," she replied with a nod of her head.

A nod of her head--but she refused to take her eyes off of Greis's lips.

Aria assumed that Greis's voice would have sounded low. Perhaps monotone. Raspy, even. It seemed like it might be fitting, but she hadn't the slightest clue. Having never heard a voice before, not even the faintest worldly sound, she couldn't imagine what a person might sound like. It was so far beyond her that she'd stopped trying years ago. Instead, she imagined the words of others as text on a page. One of the hardest problems she had because of this, though, was tone. Everything to her was, by default, a statement. It was only after a sentence was complete that she could ask herself if it was a question, exclamation, or a statement. Unless a facial expression accompanied it, she had a hard time with it. Aria herself could not differentiate the specific tones for questions, sarcasm, and the like, so she was misunderstood every so often as well.

The girl didn't say anything for awhile. Greis seemed to be thinking about it, perhaps lost in thought. His eyes weren't on her, but she continued to stare at his lips, waiting for him to say something first. But alas, he did not. It was unnerving. It was like he was waiting for her to speak first. But how was it nice to ask again? Not that she could sound upset or put off, not to her knowledge. Aria's speaking voice carried the same tone for the most part. Uneven, disjointed, far from confident.

"What do men like?" It was a very basic question, yet such a complicated one. It all depended on the individual. Aria had been so distant from others for so long, though. She simply didn't know . . .

Greis looked taken aback. His eyes were half shut and he appeared to be muttering something under his breath. Aria tried to read his lips, but could do no such thing. The movements of his lips were too subtle. The vibrations in his voice were almost non-existent. Was he trying to say something she couldn't read?

"Ahsrich is co-ming home soon," Aria reiterated, "I want to do some-thing nice for him."

Depends on what you want to do.

She watched Greis uneasily. "I do not know what I want to

Yeah? How much do you want to do?

"I . . ." Aria didn't have a clue how to answer that. "Enough . . ."

Greis motioned towards the backside of the Market, to a doorway just beyond the aisles of imitation flavors set out for collection. Aria made note of this and returned her gaze to his lips as quickly as possible.

I have some stuff back there. Guys go crazy over that sort of thing.

Well . . . that sounded promising enough for her. Without a word, Aria turned and sauntered to the back of the Market. It was a large place; not quite as large as the Great Hall, but large enough that he needed time to cross it. She intentionally walked through the aisle of sweets, noticing that a few of her favorites were missing. She'd have considering picking up maybe one thing if she still had enough rationed out to her to manage it, on top of whatever it was she managed to find here for Ozrik.

Truth be told, Aria only spent a few minutes in that room.

Greis must have seen the way she was when she left that room. Aria's cheeks were pink, her arms were folded over her chest, and the way she walked had somewhat of a trip and stumble in it. She felt . . . ashamed, maybe? Dirty? No, more like embarrassed. It wasn't that she minded the idea of that stuff if it was for Ozrik, but other various problems that accompanied all the . . . stuff she found in that room. Honestly, for herself, she didn't like any of it at all. Like the braziers. That's what she found most off-putting. There was the frill, and that was uncomfortable. Itchy. And the lace, too. That was itchy. And it wasn't like any of them fit, either . . .

No, she did not try them on.

At least, not as much as she'd ever admit.

The girl stopped walking once she was standing before Greis. He had the faintest hint of a grin upon his lips when he looked at her. Still flustered, she didn't make the connection.

". . . I do not like these," Aria declared once she was before Greis again.

Greis shrugged his shoulders.

What, too small? Too large?

Aria furrowed her brow. She didn't much like the idea that someone was trying to guess at something so personal. It was embarrassing to go look at that stuff, let alone talk about it later. But she did need Greis's help . . .

". . . too large," she admitted.

Well, it's just natural. They're made for Jez. Of course you're not going to compare.

Aria didn't know how to take that. She pouted her lower lip. Of course, she didn't want someone thinking bad thoughts like that about her--but . . . was she ugly? Is that what he meant? Was she too frail? Too dainty? Too fragile? Maybe Ozrik wanted someone stronger; someone built a little better . . .

I'm just messing around, Aria.

". . . oh." She trailed off, downtrodden. "Then . . . what should I . . ."

You really want to do something for Ozrik?

Affirmatively, Aria nodded her head. Greis look away from her, towards the door, and motioned to it with his thumb. The girl looked to the left quizzically, before returning her quizzical stare to Greis.

Then get out of here.

"What? But I thought . . ."

You don't need anything here. Not if you're looking to make that guy happy.

Aria tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Since he met you, Oz's never come in for himself.

Aria furrowed her brow confusedly. Greis shifted in his seat. He took his feet down from atop his desk and leaned forward. Indicatively, he pointed at her.

He spends all his rations on you.

For a second, Aria's eyes were wide and lips parted; brow raised and heart stopped. Then, she tightened up. Furrowed her brow. Half shut her eyes. Bit her lower lip. When she felt her heart beating again, it was hard. It pounded against her ribs as if it were trying to escape from her chest. For several seconds, she looked away from Greis.

Was it . . . true? All this time . . .? Ozrik came back home and didn't bother using any of his rations on himself. He always came to the Market and spent them on Aria, didn't he? Greis was telling the truth, wasn't he? What reason had he to lie to her?

Aria was only drawn out of her thoughts when Greis tapped her on the cheek. She nearly recoiled at the feel of his rough and rugged fingers on her cheek. She snapped her eyes open and with only a vague hint of caution, watched Greis as he leaned back into his chair.

Oz will be home soon. Go wait for him at your place. Then, just tell him how you feel, why don't you? Not in a song, not with a treat, not anything like that. And, hey, don't look at his lips when you do it.

Greis motioned up to his eyes.

Just look here and spill your heart to him. And I can guarantee you he'll take you with him.

She didn't say a word. She couldn't. There were no words to say. Greis was right--about everything. He knew exactly what was bothering her and exactly what she hoped to happen. He'd all but stopped pulling her leg, ceased the practical joking that she never recognized. Aria could only nod to Greis--nod and smile, however subtle and shy her smiles always were. Greis grinned and nodded back as if it was more than enough thanks, then waved her towards the door in a friendly brand of "get out of here" way. Aria nodded quickly, waved with the utmost nervousness, and rushed out. She nearly stumbled when she got out, but kept her pace quick. Ozrik was going to be home soon. She'd no want to miss him at all.

It was so simple! So easy to guess; such a small thing to conclude! How many times had Ozrik done that? But . . . what did she do for him? She stayed close to him. She spoke with him. She enjoyed his company, smiled and laughed, showed all the sides of her that no one else ever saw--but had she ever taken the risk to stop, stare into his eyes, and put words to all the feelings she experienced when she stood by his side? Held his hand? Watched him speak? Or when he leaned in to kiss with those beautiful lips?

The answer was no.

Aria almost tried to think of the words to say, but she stopped short. She couldn't. Not yet. Not until she was sitting down and calm. Not until he was sitting by her. No, she didn't try to form these words. She didn't want to use them so soon. She wanted to be genuine. Sincere. True in every way. She wanted to save these words. Not form them herself, and let her own mind be the first audience of her heart. Aria wanted to save that.

Save that for Ozrik.