#drfoi

“No. We ca- ...” “Listen...listen....” “Just let me speak for a mo-” “UGH” They stare, with their beady little eyes and their tight lipped scowls. Judgmental. Arrogant. Voiceless. “You nee-” “EEED TO LISTEN TO ME DAD.” “Listen here you little shi-” “Don’t you EVEN.” “Stop talking back to me or so help me I will ground you.” “YOU DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO DO THAT.” Eyes became daggers in the back, and the sides, and all places, really. There was so much to be said. Something wasn’t quite right.

He threw the pen against the desk, sending it skittering into the corner with a metallic *tap tap* *tap* *tap.* And then it was silent. There was anger in his eyes, yes, but also a fraction of guilt, the slow burning candle of regret, the callous foolishness of hope. The man set the pad down and brought his fingertips to his temple in an effort to calm the headache that was growing. What was there to do now that he missed the perfect opportunity? There was never a time he saw so much promise in finding the answers he sought then when he was there, at the gates of Hades. On the shore of the River. Elbows on desk, he let out a small groan. The pain had not subsided since the end of trade, and he felt torn apart with every simple thought- a paper doll against a barbed wire fence as it fluttered in the wind. He had heard about the excavation of the Mall from some of the locals and decided to join up with some friends, but upon getting there he saw what kind of ritual she was planning. A ritual to honor Hades, Persephone, and Hecate. It was their dominion to which our souls entered upon death, she would say. It was they whom we plead to. They all stood, coin in hands as intruders in a place that they knew little about, waiting for a sign to appear. They fought their own demons in the blackened vestibule. They stopped short of the Ferry Man. And... He had no desire to return without an audience. Without being able to ask the question. Without being able to bargain for the consideration of an answer. Yet, he found his song unsung. He set his own selfish desires aside, for what reasons he cannot fathom. Winnie had respected Hephaesta’s wishes, and let her own stay behind. Did he balk at the chance to learn the answer, or did he understand what it was that she had to do in her attempt to become a higher power in her faith? Did, for a second time, Orpheus look back, only to lose sight of his Eurydice?  Every question presented only amplified the cackling madness that sprouted in his mind. “What, then, are my efforts for?  Where can I turn to for these answers? If songs sung go without reward, What becomes of the Tiny Dancer?”

And so, after they paid him for the help and kindness he had shown them, he made his way to the East Wood Wall. “Gee, mister. This ship sure is nice! You need help piloting it?” “Why, an old man such as myself can do all sorts of miraculous things. An airship like this? It’s nothing to steer.” “You ever get those robes stuck in a prop?” “No way, whippersnapper. I’ve made sure to tie these back when I’m messing with the rigging. Sides, you don’t look smart enough to help.” “Ha. Listen, just because you’re a fossil of a man standing here, it doesn’t mean I won’t rough you up for disrespecting me.” The Eurydice lifted high into the night sky. Clouds parted to let the ship drift among them as the body seemed to make perfect holes while it fell. “Told you, you should have stayed a while longer an listened to ‘Ol’ Deckard Lame.”

It was a haze. From how he got to Mourning Glory to how he ended up in Rail City, it was all just one big blur. An odd distortion of time and memory that left him aghast, because now he was awake in the middle of the night- next to someone he thought he would never see again. She felt him wake, it seems, and pulled him close to her. Hands tightened on his side as she leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the back. “She was terrified we all lost you.” “Oh, come on Winnie, everything will be fine.” “Listen, it’s like I told her... I do still love yo-” It was all just a blur again. Bits and pieces fell into place like spiraling maple seeds from somewhere beyond his sight. There were so many things he needed to say to Kora, no... to both of them actually. So many times he needed to hold them and hug them and kiss them. He dearly missed his girls, and no matter how far he walked, he knew he would never get to hold them again. Somehow it was morning. There were no comfy blankets and pillows, no smell of cherries and citrus. Just gunpowder and soot. “Heh. Didn’t think you had it in you, Win. How’d it feel, moving as swiftly and silently as a shadow in the night? Do you understand, now, how useful it is... and why your father was so insistent we all learn before we escaped?” Why is everything so blurry?

Her little feet carried her far and wide. She had had such a great time running around on her own that she just had to keep it up. She went to Cass-A Dayga, where a King in her father’s faith said she could ‘Commune with the dead.’ After, she sought out Old Dakota, and the Blackened Hills, and then the Bad Lands.... She roamed the Calloused East. But she could not bury her ballast and make peace, the Four Winds never blew. She had enough time to visit her mother, and it was such a surprise for the woman. they laughed, and talked, and braided hair. Neither of the girls knew what to attribute to this occurrence, they should not have been able to see each other, so they made the most of it. “He misses you.” “I know, kid. Does he still sing?” “Not often. He can’t find the words.” “I miss him, too.” “Mom... I’m so sorry I ruined it all.” And then, somehow, he found himself awake and standing at the ferry Station Terminal on an island. Winnie had no idea how he managed to get there.

" There once was a little girl, all smiles and sunshine. She used to laugh and play and have the best of times. Then, one day, she came upon a great big beehive. Being the inquisitive little fox she was, she investigated. ' The honey looks so good. It's golden hue shows me just how sweet it might taste! ' she said. So, the little girl gently took her finger and scraped the comb. Sure enough, the hive gave up a little of it's prize. Just a taste. But it was the best thing she had eaten. ' I'll have to come back tomorrow for more! ' She exclaimed, excited as ever, before heading home. For a week she did this, until the weather turned cold. One by one, the days went gently into the winter nights. ' Oh no, I might have taken too much for them to make it to the spring! ' she cried, afraid that she had caused more trouble for the little fuzzy butts. She did not take honey that day, but instead, raced off to the florist to buy them a bouquet. ' Roses won't do, they're too cliche. But they deserve more than dandelions and daffodils. ' So, she stood there, next to the freshest of flowers, until a grin came across her face. ' I'll give you the flowers my grandmother loves so much. ' Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. She left those little bees the freshest of flowers she could find. And when the spring arose from it's slumber, and she approached to see if her efforsts had been in vain, a little bee buzzed about... before giving her a kiss on the cheek. Now, the little girl was not offended, but she definitely felt awful. The little kiss she had gotten started to swell up so bad. She pouted for a moment at the loss of the little bee, for it was just a child itself- new to her presence in it's life. So, from that day forward, she left them a gift. Hydrangeas- for her grandmother- and some sugar water to sip. All she asked in return was that the little girls cheek would never again feel that burn. She scooped only the excess, and let them keep the rest. And even now she exclaims 'Honey from the hive is simply the best.' "

The light flickered as the man lifted the gauze. Beneath the thick ooze of blood and pus, the layers of skin and exposed sinew glistened. “You never visit us.” “... You two left me like, fifteen years ago. How would I know where you two are?” “Did you even look?” His eyes narrowed, a look Winnie had seen many times before. “No, sir. I did not. I’ve had my own things to deal with.” The little girl next to him stared in awe at the man she had only seen in her father’s memories. Her eyes traced the scars along his arm, the locks of white that feathered over the tips of his ears. She sat, giddy in her silence, and just observed the atmosphere. “Your mom talked to Kora.” “...” “She’s doing well. Although, truth be told, this was years ago. You ever meet up with her?” ‘Hmm. I don’t remember her visiting mommy. This must have been a long time ago.’ “C’mon kid, not now.” “The fuck are you on about?” “Nothing, dad.” The elder clears his throat.  “...Sir.” “That’s right.” He set his tools down, the spirits and sterile pads settled onto the floor next to their feet. “Blood’s stopped. You gunna stitch it?” “Yeah, dad. I’m th-” He cleared his throat again. “Sir. I am the doctor here, so will you let me work?” “Last time we talked you were just a brainy little shit.” ‘Daddy, grandpa’s being a bit mean to you.’ “Hell, you can’t even remember to” ‘I can get him to shut up if he won’t stop being mean to you.’ “Call your old man Sir. It’s a sign of respect!” ‘Oh, daddy, you need to stitch him up! I’ll get the tools.’ “Nurse.” “Nurse? There is no nurse here.” “Suture kit.” No one expected it to happen, but it seemed the kid actually got that suture kit. But, in all seriousness, Winnie would probably never be able to explain what had happened that night.

There was so much going on in the world, now, that he couldn’t even begin to remember what and how yesterday came and passed. In his life, he had gone from having everything he wanted to having nothing. Only to slowly build back up the things he really needed. Friends. Family. Love. But there were things, events and memories of past days well beyond their expiration date, stuck in his head like a lawn dart. From Sweet Home, he had slowly made his way north. He stopped in the Cleaved Lands, wandered out east, gone back west, and found himself stuck in the middle of it all. And he was much worse for the wear. The man looked out from his window at the drizzle, a slow, cold kind of drizzle that seemed barely more than a mist. With each plop and plick and shallow thud of the droplets on the glass, he remembered more and more the days where a cold rain was barely enough to give him the chills. A knock came upon the oak door, not unheard of, but there were times where his barkeeps and waitresses were told to just let him be. Tonight was one of those nights. ‘ Dad. You should get that. ‘ “Don’t wanna, kid.” ‘ You really should. Like, really really. ‘ “Don’t wanna.” The knock came louder, the wrapping of knuckles making the slab of wood creak in the hinges. ‘ Get the door~ ‘ She smiled in that fucking ornery way kids smile. He stood as it slowly opened, the olive eyed barmaid peering in shyly. “Heya... so... this guy wouldn’t listen to no. Said you’d better not be slacking off, and that he’ll have to make you---” She was cut off, well before she was done by the look on her face. “Winston...” Familiar. Far too familiar. The red overtones were chaotic. “You better be good at this doctoring thing... I seemed to have been stabbed pretty bad.” The older gentleman was covered in mud, grime, and blood. He still had that way of favoring his left arm, the scarred tattoos needed a good touch up, he noticed. ‘ Grandpa’s here~ ‘