The Tarnished Path Retraced

[Nixie]

Nixie watched Seven peer into the dark glass as her words seemed to confuse him. Fingers wrapped over the edge of the bar and her knuckles turned white.
"That's not what I meant." She mumbled, but never followed with an attempt to clarify what she had meant. There was no time to as he flung an accusation at her. "Did I really?" She asked, turning to look over her shoulder, wandering what she might have broken. Sure she might have made a lot of noise, but she didn't remember hearing wood crack or splinter. In her inspection, as expected, it still proved difficult to make out much detail in the shadows that were only kept at bay by the stoves fire and lamps light. "I guess I might have made a bit of a mess..."

Turning back to him, a question rose in her mind.
"How can you--" The thunder cutting her words short and rattling her with fear. Felt with a skipped heart beat and a sharp breath. A flash of light forcing her gaze to the window for a moment before the sound of shattering glass brought it back. Looking over the mess that lay between the two, the lamp light caught in the shards and crept across the floor at the edge of spreading liquid. While it was a dim light, it was enough to define where most of the pieces set scattered. The hidden pieces revealed in their entirety when another burst of light poured through the window and disappeared just as quickly.

Discontent curving lips corners down ever so slightly as she left her spot on the bar, despite his warning. The crunch of broken glass ground under boot sounding before she kicked away one of the larger, more wicked looking, pieces away from her before stepping out of the mess. Hands found warm pockets and a long breath escaped her.
"I'll try finding something else for us to drink." Nixie might not have said it, but she was a little disappointed in the wast of alcohol. She couldn't blame him though; the thunder had frightened her too, after all. In her state of slight inebriation she really wasn't in the mood to be put on cleaning duty. And even if she was inclined to be so helpful, the likelihood of her hurting herself seemed fairly high. Although.. wandering around the dark tavern seemed pretty dangerous too, so she took to the lantern.

Moving behind Seven, she unintentionally brushed shoulder to back before stopping and raising the lantern to look over the shelves that lined the wall behind the bar. But she quickly lost interest, letting her arm fall back down to her side and her gaze fall to her feet momentarily. Moving past Seven again, she thought the kitchen and the mystery of what it might have held seemed appealing. Within a few strides she stood before a dark archway that lead to an even darker room. Holding the lantern out before her, she leaned in a bit and felt the air stir. Just a draft? She couldn't have been sure.
"Do you think they keep the good stuff in here?" Food and drink on her mind again.

[Seven Xu]

Seven sucked on his teeth. Remorse for broken bottles did not last long; the sting of embarrassment had waned, and his face had paled again against the darkness.

“The good stuff is always kept somewhere else,” he mentioned, rounding the bar and joining the girl at her side, “or under lock and key.” Leaning in after her, he searched the narrow pantry. Shelves lined two walls, lazy burlap sacks the floor. There were stores enough for a working kitchen, but age had yellowed glass and rusted tin.

“I wouldn’t eat anything in here, but you help yourself.” Despite the dismissal, Seven stepped past Cadman and stooped to scour the bottom shelf for bottles. There was a harsh clink of glass on glass and a breath of victory as Seven stood again, two slim and dark bottles hooked between his fingers. As he passed her, one cool bottle met Cadman’s free palm.

“So what were you going to ask me earlier?” He quirked a brow, offering his best grin—little more than a fanged grimace—before pacing toward the hearth. “How can I what?”

[Nixie]

Nixie watched the dimly lit room as if waiting for something to happen, something to move, something to change. But nothing did, and anticipation soon turned to disinterest. It was so ordinary; just more glass jars and a number of sacks all covered in layers of dust. Particles floated through the air, caught in the lamps wavering light; threatening to suffocate her with every breath taken. If there was anything fresh to be found, no doubt it would have gone bad with however much time had passed in this place. With that notion, Nixie sniffed at the air, but nothing hinted at rot.

When Seven's steps sounded behind her, she slid to the side to make way for him. Using the doors frame to keep herself from falling forward while leaning into the small room. Listening to him, what he said made sense, even if she didn't want to hear it. Of course it would be locked away somewhere... Her displeasure made known only through a low growl and a halfhearted kick at the wall.
"If this is really all they have, its no wonder this place is so desolate..." Shoulders sagging, Nixie shuffled inside the small room after Seven, holding the light to one of the shelves.

With no food to satiate the hunger that still lingers, and drink on her breath, it was evident Nixie was more willing to act on what she felt. And at that moment it was annoyance. While Seven searched lower, Nixie hung the lantern on a nearby hook and searched the upper shelves. Soon fingers found a grim covered jar of mysterious content. But after holding it to the light and trying to rub away the caked on layer, she shook it once and quickly lost patience.
"More rubbish." The clamor of thunder, and the drink that had gone to her head, tempted her. Egged her on as she threatened to throw the frustrating jar back into the taverns lounge. She had even bent her arm back over her shoulder, but before it could be sent into motion cool glass met the warm flesh of a hand and a question followed. It was enough to dissuade her. Thinking back a moment, she returned the jar to its shelf and her eyes followed him to the hearth.

She wasn't ready to join him just yet though, turning to the pantry again.
"Oh that's right. How can you... live on drink alone?" She called back at him; he hardly seemed interested in what food the place had. He didn't even take the time to peak at what was inside the sacks that lined the walls. Dropping to one knee, she took care in handling the yet unopened bottle, setting it down beside her before pulling one of the sacks away from the wall. Clumsy fingers pulled at the bag, slipping a few times before it opened to her. But when it did, the aroma that escaped made her mouth water and her stomach grumble. Spices mixed to something she thought must have been delectable. With the find, eyes grew wide and pleasure curved her lips into a greedy smile. "Why didn't you check the sacks, you missed this!" She called out as she hurried to her feet.

Hooking her arm through the lanterns handle, she scooped up the sack in one arm and the bottle in the other before meeting Seven where he sat. Flopping in a nearby seat, she pulled a strip of jerky from her new find before setting it down on the nearby table.
"Finally, real food!" Nixie was still grinning in her excitement when she chuckled through her nose. Amused at her earlier joke, however humorless it might have been. "That wasn't what I was trying to ask earlier though." Quickly devouring the piece of dried meat before continuing. "I was wondering how you've managed to navigate this place without incident." While waiting for some reply, Nixie held a piece of jerky out in a silent offer.

[Seven Xu]

Seven stared at the slab of dried and curling meat for what felt like a long time before he plucked it out from between Cadman’s fingers, turned it over in his own, sniffed it, and finally offered it back. “I’m fine; thank you.”

His stomach betrayed him in a whining rumble.

“I can see in the dark,” he answered, looking past the girl’s tousled head of chestnut hair to the far wall as though he could glare through the very timbre to see the storm that raged beyond. Vacant fingers wrapped the neck of the bottle still coated in dust, and he quirked his brows before tilting it briskly at his lips. The sour red inside almost made him cringe, but so did most. “Well, better than you, anyway.”

Lightning shone dully against a grime-riddled window—so caked with dirt no street lamp could permeate it—and thunder rolled over their heads a heartbeat later. The chair at Cadman’s side scraped against the floor as Seven made himself comfortable. Unlike his bird, whose posture was arrow-straight, Seven preferred to slouch. With his feet happily occupying the chair, he thumbed the mouth of his wine bottle and tilted his head in thought.

“Not sure why I should elaborate further than that; you didn’t.” That unusual smile lingered, and a new challenge hung on the stale air.

[Nixie]

Nixie assumed that Seven might have enjoyed some food that actually had some protein to it, unlike the pickles from earlier. They were mostly comprised of water, hardly enough to fill an empty belly. But when he declined her offer to share, the smile she wore turned to a flat line of seeming indifference. Though she could not deny that she was just a little disappointed. Mostly because of the grumbling sound turned his words to what she believed to be a lie. It was hard to miss in a place like this, where sight was hindered and other senses-- like hearing-- grew more sensitive. Why turn down good food when your hungry? She asked herself while reluctantly taking the meat back from him and biting down on it herself.

Listening to him speak, by the time he had finished Nixie was washing down the food with whatever it was that filled her own bottle. Her gaze settled on him as she decided whether or not she would accept his challenge, her stare far less flighty than what it had been before. Silent in her own thoughts, Nixie leaned forward in her seat and elbows pressed to knees while a thumb found its way between the gentle bite of teeth. An absent-minded finger tapped the glass bottle, though one could say it was done out of impatience or uncertainty. But it stilled when her eyes moved to the orange glow of fire.
"Answers for answers, huh?" Setting the drink on the table with a quiet thump, her hand went to a pocket to retrieve the pipe from earlier.

In little time it was packed and lit ablaze. Stuck between lips that sent dark smoke up into the already dark building, making it nearly invisible to her unless it was against orange light. With the help of drink to loose lips and tobacco to sooth nerves, she accepted the challenge with far less hesitance then she might have otherwise. "What is it I am to elaborate upon? Or can I pick the story I tell?"

[Seven Xu]

“I’ll start.”

Seven’s feet left the adjacent chair and his knees found comfort between his chest and the lip of their table. He considered her a moment, still fingering the warm edges of his old dusty bottle of wine. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate, as if every word was thick and loath to leave his tongue.

“I can’t eat that dried meat—or any meat, really—and high noon is painful to eyes so keen to cut through the dark.” Pale brows seemed to shrug. “Most people figure me out on a second glance. People where I’m from call ‘em Widows, but you probably know them better as symenestra. I come from them. Sort of—I’m more human than anything.” He shifted. It made him uncomfortable to speak so frankly, to throw out facts that most could decipher in an exchange of awkward silence and evasive glances. “The halfbloods aren’t so well-liked among them, and I remind everyone else of something undesirable.”

But not you, he thought to add, but he’d already fallen into the pause that grew between them. The bottle found his lips and he drank deep. “Tell me who the people were; tell me what shouldn’t matter.”

[Nixie]

He said he would start, and he certainly did, though she wished he hadn't. It left her no time to protest, or if there was, the chance had already passed. He was explaining, and soon she would be expected to do the same. What he would want her to explain though, she could only guess; she already assumed it would be some difficult topic. She thought to protest and cut his words short before he could go any further, but as he went into detail that desire left to be replaced by interest. Interest and confusion. His words lost upon her until names and titles he spoke, then confusion turned to a semblance of understanding.
"I've heard of them." Nixie had heard of them in stories meant to scare children into obedience, or to keep her safe within the city and stop her from wandering too far. But she couldn't recall ever meeting one and so chalked the stories up to just that, stories. Through the pitch, fall, and drawn out pause between words, she could feel his unease. It aided to lessen her own for the moment, but she knew it would return once silence fell and it was her turn to speak. To return his explanation for one of her own.

When words were replaced with the sound of drink poured out, Nixie thought to console Seven in some way. But the solemn atmosphere kept her from speaking aloud the thought that first came to mind. Your not scary at all. It was left unsaid when Seven began again and told her what he wished to know.
"Of course you would bring that up," she said with a weak smile and a breath through her nose. That topic was one the bore heavily upon Nixie, and the story even more so. She wandered if Seven expected her to go into as much detail a he had in explaining himself. Hopefully not. For a moment she seriously considered the door, glancing at it from her seat. She thought to stand and leave him where he sat; to take to the streets and escape the stranger that seemed so interested in her tale. What kept her from it, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was the comfort of somebody willing to listen, or the simple agreement they had made.
"Fine, if that's what you want. But be prepared for what might come of it." Resolved in her choice, she replaced the pipe at her lips with the mouth of a bottle and drank until her lungs begged for air. Then forcibly returned it to the table with some determination, a thud and the slosh of liquid sounding in its placement. Nixie searched for the words to begin, but when they wouldn't come, her brows furrowed in the frustration.

Then the sound of wooden legs scrapping against the floor broke the silence when Nixie pushed her chair back and slid down the to dust covered floorboards. Finding a spot, she let her shoulders fall back until she lay strewn out in the hearths glow, letting out a deep breath. Cradling her pipe in a hand that rest palm up against the floor, another arm came up to rest over her eyes. Laying like that for some time, Nixie let the silence weigh upon her, eyes hidden from the possibility of a questioning gaze. One could have easily assumed she had fallen asleep in the fires warmth and rains lullaby. But she eventually spoke, her voice coming in a quiet squeak; choked on the hidden emotion that threatened to fill her words.
"Those people, they were my parents... No, it was Aleta, Foster, and those boys. Sure their titles were mother and father—and the boys, friends—but she couldn't bring herself to mention them under such loving terms. Beneath her arm she shook her head subtly, as if to deny them the honor of such friendly titles. "Did you know I looked like a girl once? I had long hair that fell in curls," she said with a scornful chuckle. "But they made sure to change that; in fact they were happy to. But those boys.. The boys hated it, they hated me for it. Accused me of trying to replace the friend they lost." By now her voice had some anger to it, and her lips trembled in the sadness that fueled it. "And they expected me to be their friend? That everything would be fine if I could look and play the role?" Silence came again and her chest rose and fell in it, her arm hiding what tears fell in the sadness that had made its home upon her. Too overwhelmed by her own emotions, whatever words she might have meant to speak were caught in her throat when she moved the arm from her face to push herself up. Though not to return to the chair, but instead to bring herself near Seven where she knelt before him to lean against his unscathed leg. Trembling hands made fists in the loose cloth of his shirt and damp eyes pressed into his abdomen. At that moment it didn't matter who it was that sat in the chair, only that they would allow her the solace of another, if only for the warmth. "Why'd they do it?" She asked between a sob, though not expecting an answer. Nor did she expect him to react, only hoping he would not force her away.

[Seven Xu]

Beneath the soft cotton of his well-worn shirt, Seven tensed. “I don’t know,” he replied numbly, “people can be cruel—parents can be cruel.”

Despite his efforts, something had balled in his throat and the last syllable cracked. Her confessions were too vague for the torrent of emotion that followed; her face was too familiar with his stomach; and her fists crumpled his shirt too tightly. He thought to push her away, but could not gather the resolve.

Was she crying?

A white hand moved to the mop of brown-black that had supposedly been cropped too short for her comfort. Still, it was soft as silk, and he managed to wring his fingers through several strands before drifting away. He’d lost his appetite for that which he’d pushed for so long; he wanted to give it back. He hooked his fingers beneath her chin, cupped a cheek with a clammy palm, and gently urged her to part from him.

“Get off the floor.” There was no irritation in the tone of his request, but he felt the need to smile at her to quell whatever doubt may have blossomed in the pit of her stomach.

“So they wanted you to be someone else.” He drew his knee to his chest again, wrapped skinny arms around his unscarred leg. There was a moment’s pause as he drew a deep breath and considered her. “My mother was a whore. I’m not passing judgment—that’s just what she was. My father had no intentions of telling his wife of her, nor did he expect her to show up at his door with me. They never loved me as much as they loved my sisters. How could they? How could anyone love the consequences of an affair, or their husband’s bastard?”

He shrugged.

“It’s all past, though. You learn to move on. There’s nothing you can do about the past.”

[Nixie]

When his words came, they aided to mollify the lamentation she had so easily fallen into. But despite the attempt, they could not fully keep her from tears, only lessening them. Too absorbed in herself, Nixie had failed to notice the affect Seven's own words had on his placidity; or the way he tensed when she sought him in a far too friendly manor. A reassuring hand moving through unkempt hair only encouraged her to linger comfortably in his lap. But it was too short lived when that same hand, a few words, and a smile, patiently persuaded her to part from him. Reluctantly complying, she made some space between them and wiped away the damp remnants of salty tears, but would not stand. Having left the temporary and fleeting sanctuary that was Seven's lap, she had no will to, instead moving to brace herself against the chairs arm.

Arms perched and crossed, Nixie rest her head upon them and listened to Seven speak. Peering up at him through heavy lids and still damp lashed, she admired his ability to share even this part of himself without breaking down as she had.
"You seem so strong." Her words were quiet and thick with the encroaching sleep that had begun to settle upon her. Whether it was from too much alcohol, the feelings that left her drained, or the late hour, she didn't know. Nor could she grasp how much time had passed in that tavern; it was still very dark, and the rain still poured. "I hope I'll get to that point some day, where I can move on... I still have so many unanswered questions..." Maybe she would have them answered eventually, but at the moment she wasn't sure if she could even face them long enough to ask. "Do you hate them?"

[Seven Xu]

“No.”

In fact, he felt very little toward the Woman and less toward the man whose throat he opened. The twins, though, they’d done nothing wrong; he was often eager to forget that he’d left them with his mess, with a dead father they had loved. Without a proper good-bye.

Seven’s voice cracked. He looked away. “I don’t hate them.”

Rain slashed down heavy against an old roof and windows. The storm did little to threaten the opaque film of grime that had gathered on the glass over years of neglect—or minutes, one could never know in Alvadas. Seven stood, crossing to the door in a whisper of boot soles on derelict floorboards. He opened the door and cool, sweet air rushed into the dank tavern.

“And I’m not strong,” he added, his mumble barely rising above the roar, “I’ve just gotten good at pretending I am.”

The door slammed shut, and he had gone.