The Song of Lost Saints

all of me is damned. From earliest beginnings, my fate has been solitude- elegant solitude, elegant loneliness. I let it walk into me like a cathedral, down its isle- wedding bells sound in the secret place of my heart.

Phizarae Ephereia didn't grasp how she had discovered Kraai, but as she perched off to the side and mutely regarded the crowd, it didn't matter.  

Eventually, her lazuli eyes gravitated to what rested before her, some sort of tankard brimming with walnut-hued liquid. She eyed the vapor that billowed from the summit of that heated drink, entranced, as it climbed and evanesced into the boisterous atmosphere. She had sampled the concoction only once when she had first received it and upon being unable to distinguish the unique flavor profile, she felt uneasy and distrustful of the brew in a way perhaps only an outlander could be.

The liquor she had invariably consumed in her life had been exclusively red wine. It had always been of a character that was full-bodied yet still finessed delectable undertones and perfumes to the palate in an at ease manner. In contrast, Kraai had given her everything she unequivocally did not desire: ingredients she could not discern, an atmosphere she sorely stood out in, and a level of amplification that made her secretly anxious.

But as the sun hibernated after hours of daytime and the cold bore down on Halo, she didn't have anywhere else to go.

Her slim hands, donning their habitual lace gloves, finally reached for the mug and raised it to her syrupy lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a swig, permitting the liquid to once more overwhelm her senses with hints and flavors of something.

"."

Phizarae

the winteress

Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination

The Kraai was determined live on, to resume normalcy even though what was normal before was oh, so different to the normal that was presented now. No longer was Weaver behind the bar - she hadn't been since being named Warden, but now there was no prospect, no hope or possibility that she would ever resume that place even for 'old time's sake'. And no longer did Korbin frequent the place, too many memories lingering in the shadows.

But Chuy remained - he had many reasons: the Grounders were here, and wherever they were, Kia often was too, and he had promised Weaver before that he would help out here, in the kitchen, in maintaining tidiness in the rooms, in whatever capacity the place needed him.

Tonight he wasn't as needed, as others had stepped up to run the bar and cook the meals tonight. No doubt he'd be roped I by the kitchen staff to clean dishes later - and he didn't mind that prospect either, preferring to keep his mind and hands busy rather than dwell for so long on things that had happened, things he could not change, and worrying about things yet to unfold.

The beverage he drank was non-alcoholic, soft drink as his home world would have called it, his preference over anything alcoholic. He was grinning and laughing with the locals, until his iceberg gaze landed on another, who sat quietly apart. She was pale, ghostly, a wintery mirage against the rustic timber backdrop of the Kraai - and he was reminded of himself not so long ago, a newcomer to the realm, sitting in the public bar but not sitting with anyone. With a short word to his current group, he slipped away from them, approaching the girl with a soft smile gracing his lips.

"Hey there," soft, warm tones were offered easily, as gestured to a seat near her. "Mind if I join you?"

CHULANE

all of me is damned. From earliest beginnings, my fate has been solitude- elegant solitude, elegant loneliness. I let it walk into me like a cathedral, down its isle- wedding bells sound in the secret place of my heart.

Phizarae had always been someone who scrutinized profoundly into those around her, endeavoring to get to the essence of what they survived for, who they persisted for, and even where their lines would eventually be drawn. This was because, from early youth, the porcelain girl found that there was always more than met the eye. Once you inclined closer to someone, their eternal torment, vulnerability, and tenderness lingered conspicuously like floral sweetness in the air they exhaled.

As a stranger advanced towards her, she queried wordlessly if he would attempt to decode her while she concurrently did the same with him. Mostly, Phizarae only emitted crisp composure, leaving fervor barred behind her projection of ice-clad control; the chilling hybrid of who she was and who she wanted to be.

Politely setting her alcohol down, she cultivated a deepening awareness of the fact that, despite visibly seeing how alone she was, the stranger had the decency to ask her if his company was at all desired. And as he gestured to the unoccupied seat, she probed: "Do I appear so lonely?"

For all her rime, she was a turbulent chimera, a construct of all who had conceived and shattered her. Did anyone truly anticipate blatant kindness?

The suggestion of a smile caressed her lips as she ultimately declared, "the seat is yours if you'd like it."

"."

Phizarae

the winteress

Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination

He thought himself quite capable of reading a room, of having an educated guess at what another might be feeling, of being empathetic to what another might be going through - all with the aim to help them, to support them, to be a pillar, a rock that they could lean on when they were at their lowest. He hated to see any suffer, hated the idea that there was action he could take or words he could offer to another that might help alleviate stress or worry, or allow a solution to be reached.

A brow quirked its way upwards at her query, curious why she would ask it - was she rejecting him already, turning away his offer for company, for friendly attention, wanting to prolong her solitude? If that was so he would not deny it of her, ever the one not to press himself on another unless it was so desired. "You are merely alone to my eyes, loneliness is a state of mind," he offers in return, a light shrug of his shoulders given with the words.

Her expression softened, a smile teasing at her lips, hinting at hidden and devious machinations like the Mona Lisa, but he took it as permission with her words, folding himself into the seat before her, placing his drink on the table along with his forearms. "I'm Chulane," he offered, open and forthcoming. "Though most would call me Chuy," he smirked, the nickname having followed him throughout his childhood and lingering onwards even as he changed from one world to the next.

"How long have you been in Halo?" Again his words were direct and open, his curiosity pulling the question from his lips without hesitation - he hadn't seen her face before, and he was coming to know a great many faces in the small Halo town. Was she a newcomer, and Outlander? Or just a Natural who had spent the better part of Deepfrost isolated, or perhaps recently displaced by current devastating events?

And so the afternoon went on, new connections forged, possibly a new friend found?

--

Fin

CHULANE