Thread: Behind Glass  Verse&Sesu

He had dealt with this night as he had the others before it, looking for something in the many times turned over shards of the old world. He'd call them rocks or bits, but the callouses that had formed on the palms of his hands were promise enough that he'd be wrong. Sharp, ill-willed shards. He pushed the first knuckle of his thumb against the valley where his forehead met his nose, deriving some comfort and strength from that pressure as he stood up from his last search. A bag was secured to his back by his other hand. The sun reminded him that it was relentless, and that he should be the same if he wanted to survive. Eir wiped his nose, allowing that reflex even when there was no snot to rid off, only dirt from the fifteen last attempts. How could there be anything else? A body that had been stretch out in each direction by manual labor wrought its limbs toward the first sit-down of its ending twenty hour work day. He'd been able to find trinkets again, little pretty, dumb things. Sometimes they were as useless as the grime on them, but on occasion the were fine enough that he could trade them with someone who could in turn sell it to the towers. He threw a fast eye at the reaching pillars. Heaven, locked up and guarded. Today they made him smile as he moved for the drinking hole of this district. Inside a particularly worn music box he'd found a symbol key, the currency that Orsin approved of, as it had their crest and came from their furnaces. The sympathy for the obviously departed family dissipated with thoughts of what the key could buy him. He smiled, despite the circumstances he had always been able to keep himself just above starvation, so the features hollowed toward the facial bone without becoming too gaunt. Wearing this and his usual mop of brown he stepped in through the man sized hole that used to be a window to see a handful tables. Two of them were occupied, so he and his cargo slumped down at a chair close to the entrance. You're looking chipper, dear. said the appearing waitress, rust hair tied back and shine on her lips. He nodded in return and watched her eye his baggage. Good find, today? she asked while rolling up her sleeves. He'd never been able to afford her, the few times he'd been in here, but something in her green eyes had always reminded him of mother - the eyes they told him he had - so he'd always try. His lips with sharp corners twitched in would-be mysterious play. Got a key. Pretty big too. he replied. Her reaction didn't disappoint, those large greens growing larger still as she leaned in. Hands on her apron. You could have a night on the house for that, you know. she whispered as she seemed to scan his body, smart enough to know he wouldn't hide key among his other goods. Maybe he would have paid her all of it just for that, for the respect not to try and take it from him, or for the feeling of being important, if just in this shallow way. Suddenly he didn't smell her bad breath anymore, or see the sores on the side of her neck. You've been in here before, haven't you? He nodded. He was about to live a small part of his dream to be something else, something higher, like the Orsin, about to tell her to go into the kitchen and make him a big meal and shave her pussy and fluff her bed. But he knew it wouldn't last long, that frivolous pleasure of an almost bursting stomach and warm place to rest his head, assuming she owned a mattress. He'd have to squeeze the value out of the key. He sighed. Yeah. I'll give you some of the rations I'll buy if you pour me a shot and give me a throatjob. In this state half of a glass had been enough to provide a buzz. She was happy enough to take his order. She'd left him by his table with his drink to take care of another costumer, probably with a similar order, before she'd given him the last part of his. He retracted his hand from his pocket to see the red line across the index finger. Had he really held on to the key so hard? Eir dipped the nick in the vodka and watched the clear become pink. After this he'd barter for the rations and then sleep. The thought of slumber almost cracked another wide grin. Maybe he should try trading with the Orsin himself. Father had done well enough, they told him. A shadow at the far end of one eye became long when more patrons entered the establishment. Eir didn't know why, but he whipped his head in that direction, glass in his hand rippling with the motion, but never spilling. Something came that didn't fill the air with itself. Something clean.