Detached From Reality (Stitch pls)

[Malia]

Location: Stone Gardens Timestamp: Evening, 64th of Winter, 509 AV espite the fact that she didn’t possess any connections to the Knights, not even to Syliras, Malia had chosen the Stone Gardens for that evening’s stroll. There was a melancholic beauty in the tidy black and white patterns, the dozens of small cobbles reminding the citizenry what the people whom the names belonged to had done for their city. Although she had never studied that particular topic, Malia knew a few basic facts about history. After the Valterrian mankind had no shelter. Strong men and women formed the Syliran Knighthood with the purpose to rebuild some kind of civilization. The Windoak, a fragment of the dead God Syliras had been discovered and so they built a castle around it and called the new place Syliras. Since then, the city had thrived. Many different races had flocked together and the daily problems of the knights consisted of neighborhood feuds and economy. They had won the struggle to survive and ascended to a new stage. Nobody knew what the future would bring, but Malia was content with observing and interpreting as always. She never did anything else. Being a mere spectator was a role she played well and with pleasure – being the center of attention, though, she was afraid of. Not that she could attract a crowd with her words. Perhaps she knew a few tricks, but she hardly ever used them. Usually she found it more comfortable to talk with people in private. Groups consisting of more than five people would be too much. Fortunately she worked with only four people on a daily basis. Twenty days had gone by since she had knocked at the door of the Welcome Home and asked for a job. Meanwhile the children had more or less accepted her, even more: They had started to play silly games revolving around the challenge to make her laugh. So far they hadn’t been that successful … although some sort of improvement was clear. Malia’s thoughts revolved around a few other things. There was pressure, the desire to venture out and do something rather than sit around in Syliras with a bunch of children. She liked packing knowledge into little stories and metaphors to make it more attractive and understandable to the little ones, but that wasn’t what she really wanted to do. She needed something else. And although she didn’t know how to find out what that ‘something else’ exactly was, she was sure that time would tell her sooner or later. Tanroa had always given answers when answers were due. That day, however, wasn’t a day of unsolved riddles. It was a day one had to spend in good company. The sunset was gorgeous. The stone actually looked like molten gold rather than the solid, cold material it was. Perhaps even Malia, the cold Nuit with the black hair and emotionless eyes looked a bit like molten feelings in Syna’s fading light. She hadn’t dressed for a special occasion, but rather put on comfortable trousers and her red cotton blouse. Clothing was transitory, but these particular pieces of fabric carried memories with them. Malia had realized the meaning of memories … and so she kept wearing them, although she needed new ones very soon. The Stone Gardens embraced the light, the young-looking girl and the few other passersby. There was an eerie silence about the whole scenery. Nothing seemed to move, Zulrav was still. It was almost as if the gardens were frozen in time … almost.

[Stitch]

Stitch had lived in Syliras for all of his life. He didn't remember his mother and father, he just remembered bits and pieces of his early life within the original Welcome Home. He remembered the man who raised him, all the children who came and went, he remembered all of the other employees who came and went. He had met a variety of people in his life here, and by now, he knew most of the population of Syliras. At least all of the main stayers, the ones who had been here as long, or longer than he had. He knew all of the veteran city guards by name, he regularly visited the Golden Dragon's owner, Tyrus. He knew Akvin from the Magecraft Laboratory, as well as Corvis, the minter for Stormhold. He had offered Malia a job and a place to stay, had nursed Orin back to health. Out of all these adults he knew, he was always hanging around with children.

So, he had devised a plan of escape for the day.

The plan was rather refreshing, actually. The last few times he had tried to leave the Welcome Home, he hadn't managed to lose the children who lived within. He had just wanted to get a little peace and quiet, perhaps some time to himself, and somehow they had managed to track him. The Fire Festival was the last major time this had occurred. It didn't really annoy him, perhaps it bugged him a little at first, but those adventures usually turned into treasured memories. Still though, he was always eager to go out and be doing things alone, or even with people that were his age. So, after a few days of watching Malia come and go, from her apartment to the Welcome Home, and back again, he decided it was time that the Nuit threw a little variety into her life.

The kids had been eager to let them go. Fentya had threatened to beat them if they had followed. He didn't quite understand why they were so eager, but they had been. They had tried to pack food for Malia and him, although Stitch had been the only one to take his portion, and they had also suggested that Stitch bring flowers. Why would he need flowers? Amidst Trish's giggles, and Damien's wide grins, Stitch had been hurried out the door to go invite Malia for a walk. Confused a little about what had just occurred, he had quickly done so, finding her right where he had guessed, in her apartment.

Stitch walked beside of Malia, sightly behind her, allowing her to be the dominant lead in the pleasant stroll. It was a testament to his submissive, humble, servant-hood of a nature. He was always quick to treat the lady as the higher person, and put her first in terms of respect. Other men were treated almost as such, only falling a little lower simply because they were not female. Perhaps a little old-fashioned Stitch could admit, but so far, the way of life hadn't failed him. He had met the independent woman who didn't wish to be treated as a lady, and he could respect that, and allow her some room. He barely ever lifted the title of 'milady', however. Malia had likely noticed this by now. He was glowing with the same un-natural warmth as always; a physical, almost touchable happiness emitting from his very being.

He lifted a finger, speaking in soft tones, pointing at the many stones that made up the garden they walked through. "Are you familiar with the Syliran Knights, milady Malia? Their most honored dead are buried here, to be remembered for all time. This one tries to keep all of the lost in his mind, but he does appreciate this, a show of great respect for the fallen. This one believes he heard you teaching this tidbit of history to the children, though? It is truly a beautiful place to walk through. Perhaps try to meditate, try to find some sort of tour guide, or simply walk. This one has been here several times before, for this one knows a few who sleep here.

He smiled brightly at her, that odd aura of happiness sweeping around her like an embrace. There was many a thing to do, and he was happy to get a moment of relief from three crazy children. The blind man was dressed as he normally was, white medical bandages wrapped around his darkened visage, baggy britches hanging from his hips, and a simple white shirt. He had a small pack slung over his shoulder, containing some food, as well as another small surprise he had planned for the stoic Nuit girl.

Perhaps he could make her laugh, and win that bet he had going with the rest of the children. A smile would be nice, at least.

[Malia]

She had been slightly surprised when finding Stitch at the door of her little apartment at the second tier. After all, nobody had really visited her up to then. Nobody visited a Nuit, why would they? Since her apartment was the place she went to when she wanted to be alone, it was all right. However, Stitch had broken the silence and asked her out. If one could even call it so. She wasn’t even sure whether her decision to accept had been right or not. Her mood was kind of melancholic, and that could easily turn into grumpy and unapproachable. Perhaps she had subconsciously feared that situation and brought her lyre because of that. It was packed in a leather bag hanging over her shoulder.

Stitch was walking beside her, even one or two steps behind. Apparently he liked being guided, and he didn’t mind where they were going. Her feet were leading both of them. Even when her gaze wandered over the beautiful, firm stone structures, she could feel his warmth radiating on her skin. To her, it was an secret how he could give so much warmth and friendliness and still save some for himself – intriguing as well as frightening.

She wasn’t particularly keen on attention and chatter, but she did answer when asked nonetheless. “Yes, I know what most people know about them. They have always protected the city and its inhabitants.” When he went on to tell the story and add his own thoughts, she listened silently. Although his appearance, behavior and talking habit always seemed odd, she enjoyed observing him. There was something relaxing about how he treated others. And, of course, there was the warmth … Raising an eyebrow on the sleeping part, she commented: “There are homeless who sleep here? I thought the Knighthood made sure that everyone had a small room and bed.” After all, she had been given the small apartment without much fuzz when arriving at Syliras. That, however, had been more than two seasons ago. Perhaps things had changed meanwhile …

Yes, the Stone Gardens were a beautiful place to spend time at. Malia would remember that, she only hoped that she wouldn’t meet Stitch when coming there on her own. She would have to explore the place at night, when the stone was bathed in Leth’s pale light. Well, she had always liked that one better than Syna anyway.

When coming past a small, elegantly carved bench at the edge of a round square with an elaborate mosaic of white, black and grey, she stopped and turned. Her head tilted slightly. “Should we sit down over there? I have brought a lyre with me … an instrument I’m not yet familiar with, but I’d like to start exploring it sooner or later.” After a short pause she added: “Do you have any experience with instruments?” To be exact, she was unsure whether Auristics gave him enough sight to handle the strings or holes of most instruments. Perhaps he would be good with drums, but Malia wasn’t an expert either, so she didn’t waste time thinking about it.

But indeed, the lyre was literally burning on her back and in her mind, longing for fresh air, a soft hand and one or two curious minds exploring its abilities.

[Stitch]

Malia had only been at the orphanage for a few days now, but the children had already grown to love her. She didn't know it, probably. He assumed she had guessed they had grown accustomed to her quickly, but he was betting that she had no idea of their affection for her. Even though the girl seemed to understand the meaning of love, affection, trust, Stitch had never been sure she understood it beyond the simple definition of the word. Whenever Trish told Malia that she loved her, Stitch could tell that Malia knew what the word meant... But her aura never actually reacted to the waves of love Trish had for her. That particular little girl had been the quickest to grow amazingly attached to Malia, and had begged Stitch on multiple occasions to let her go home with Malia. Spend the night, or something. Stitch had quickly denied the girl, trying to do it as softly as possible. He was fairly sure Malia wouldn't be agreeable with the idea. She spent plenty of time with the children already, more than Stitch had originally thought she would.

Maybe she wouldn't have minded Trish's unique request . Even Stitch had a hard time getting a handle on what her emotions were, and where they were going. Even if she was a bit hard to read, though, he still appreciated her willingness to help, and her honesty with him. Her emotions were always up front, and quite real. No matter how far distanced from them she felt, Stitch could certainly see it.

Her question snapped him out of his mental study of her, and he suddenly realized he was smiling brightly at her. Searching back, he recalled what she had said, and answered. "The Knights do supply a home to all, and they are very generous in doing so. The ones who come here sometimes, they are not homeless." Stitch took a breath, pausing, and continued on, his eyes sparkling with romance for what he was about to tell. "The first to come was a widow of a Knight who is buried here. She, finding herself unable to sleep without him by her side, snuck into the Garden late one night, and found his stone. Packing herself within her blankets and pillow, she slept beside of him." Stitch paused again, his eyes still sparkling. Perhaps they weren't just sparkles of happiness, perhaps there was a bit of sadness mixed as well. His voice was filled with emotion, making the story even that much more beautiful. "The Knights found her the next morning, and sent her home. She kept coming back though, and eventually, they just let her stay. Since then, three other widows have joined her, to sleep beside their husbands every night. This one and the children have came and slept near them before, to keep them company, as well as provide their husbands with a bit more company as well."

Stitch stepped toward the bench she had pointed at, nodding at her and smiling. Oddly, he took a step further, and set himself right beside of the bench, allowing her the entire construct to herself. He set his pack in his lap, and awaited her music.

[Malia]

Malia simply nodded. Romance made her a bit uncomfortable, because she never knew how to react to it. Perhaps she should just enjoy the image of those widows sleeping at the cold, cold ground beside the names of their beloved husbands. Perhaps she should comment about them getting a cold pretty soon if they didn’t stop. The right decision never found her, so she stayed silent. The truth was that she admired their dedication and hoped to find something she could dedicate herself to in a similar fashion. Something she really enjoyed – not something that someone else forced upon her.

Anyway, the lyre was sitting in her lap. Music she could enjoy, and music she could dedicate herself to. At least as long as she didn’t have another commitments. Despite that fact she couldn’t see herself becoming a musician. But as always, only time would tell. Malia prayed to Tanroa that she would keep her promise and fulfill it soon, although she would never dare to press her.

Unsure about what she was exactly required to do she simply started by plucking a string. Stitch would hear a single note fading away in the evening air. It was as if the whole world listened to Malia’s lyre, there were no other visitors around. She wondered when the widows would appear, but then her attention turned back to the instrument.

Running her palm down its smooth wooden structure, she tried to get acquainted with the instrument. Perhaps she was acting a bit weird, but the thought didn’t occur to her. What she was doing could be called instinct – she felt that it was right.

Then her fingers touched the strings again, plucked them one by one while she listened to the sound. Naturally, it went up the scale and down again. Even that seemed like a little song, and she continued to pluck them one after another for a while. Through listening carefully to the repeating melody, she tried to get a feel for where each note was located. If she memorized that, she could play songs she had heard before just by remembering their melody. Well, if they weren’t too difficult. When the sound of high and low notes taking turns echoed in her ears, she stopped.

What now? Her eyes left the lyre and wandered over to Stitch who was sitting at the ground. Just like a nice pet, was her first impression, but of course that was ridiculous. Come to think of it, she felt a bit ridiculous herself. Perhaps practicing on her own would have been easier. Nevertheless she wouldn’t retreat once she had chosen this kind of meeting. “Do you know any songs I could try to play? Lullabies or nursery rhymes maybe?” It was a try to include him in her practice as well as get something from him she could incorporate. She hoped that he could at least hit the right notes when singing for her though.

[Stitch]

He watched carefully as she ran her hands over the wooden instrument, and plucked the strings lightly. He leaned a bit closer, cocking his head, pushing his ear toward her as if to clearly take in the sounds of music. A focused look had crossed his face, and Malia could tell he was trying very hard to tune in to the music. Even before she asked him about a song to play, he had already been trying to think of one. He didn't know anyone that played much music. He had heard it in the streets before, and Fentya had joined a choir once when she was little. Neither one had required him to sing, although sometimes he had caught himself humming along. Somehow though, he had sensed the Nuit might need a singing partner, that she might be a bit shy about it. She seemed shy, or reserved, about a lot of things. That was actually one of the reasons he had decided to sit on the ground. The bench was small, and would require them to sit quite close. He didn't want to put her through that discomfort, as the woman seemed to appreciate her personal space bubble.

"This one thinks he knows a good one." He lifted his head from his concentration as she asked her question, and smiled brightly at her. Clearing his throat, coughing a bit, he took a deep breath and braced himself. "It is slow and soft, perhaps this one will sing the first few lines, and milady can join in? This one can repeat, until you get the hang of the strings." He let his gaze wander over her for a second, and then slowly began to sing.

Golden slumber kiss your eyes,
Smiles await you when you rise.
Sleep,
pretty baby,
Do not cry,
And this one will sing you a lullaby.

Care you know not,
Therefore sleep,
While o'er you this one watch do keep.
Sleep,
pretty darling,
Do not cry,
And this one will sing a lullaby.

Fall to dream land,
smile so bright
this one protects from all in night
Sleep,
beautiful one,
Angels protect you from above
And this one sends all his love...

Stitch's voice was actually right on key, a bit shaky, but he managed to pull it off well. His cheeks were flushing a furious red, but he kept on a good face the entire time, rocking back and forth to his song. He kept on his smile as he sang, and his warmth still glowed forth. When she did start to play, and when she found her melody, he would attempt to match his voice to it. This was a lullaby he had being singing for awhile now, to all children to came to the Home. He had also had it sung to him, when he had first been a part of the Home.

[Malia]

“All right”, she agreed shortly and waited for Stitch to begin. Doubts invaded her mind yet again, but she wiped them away and concentrated on the melody that was slowly and hesitantly released into the chill air of the evening. It seemed that neither of them really felt it.

Soon the melody got strong and Malia could understand the words. A lullaby, sweet and innocent, although infused with Stitch’s odd speaking habit. She wondered briefly whether he had actually invented it or heard it somewhere else. On the other hand, she had never heard him sing or compose before, so it wasn’t that likely.

Anyway, she wanted to concentrate on the song. Sitting still and listening carefully, she tried to pluck the strings she thought hit the right notes. At the start, however, she tried to keep the sound low and only for herself to check whether she had guessed right or not. At that stage she made a lot of mistakes, but just went on to try. Mistakes were natural for beginners. The whole human nature consisted of mistakes … Leo had told her that as well, although not directly. The thought about him made her a bit uncomfortable. So inhuman … but then, even she as a being who basically consisted of a dead body and a milky white substance wasn’t immune to making mistakes.

Actually, she liked the content of Stitch’s song. Exactly the type of song one would sing to little children to calm them down. The melody was not too difficult, so she figured out how to play it pretty quickly. Well, depending on other people’s sense of time it might have been long as well. Nuit sometimes experienced things differently.

When she was pretty sure that she got everything right, she started plucking the strings with the necessary force. Perhaps Stitch had heard her hesitant tries before, but now she officially showed what she had learned. Listening to his soft voice and at the same time concentrating on the strings, she smiled a bit.

Music was a divinely beautiful thing.

When the song ended, or rather, both of them seemed to come to the conclusion that they should end it, she let the melody slowly fade away. It echoed at the circular square and then it was gone. Malia turned to Stitch. “You weren’t bad.” And that was a serious appraisal, since Malia didn’t see any sense in lying.

[Stitch]

As he sang, Stitch tried to keep an mental eye on Malia's long fingers, plucking slowly at the strings. It was easy to follow them at first, and it was actually kind of mesmerizing at first, even though Stitch had no idea what was going on. Instruments had always puzzled him. The practitioners always seemed to simply push a button here or there, cover a hole, or pluck a string or two. Yet each and every time, music flowed forth in such a beautiful melody, even if they were doing something so painfully simple. Stitch had sometimes hoped to learn, but he doubted his abilities. He was blind after all, and it seemed like something that might require sight. Well, he wasn't that blind. Physically he was, but he had been blessed with a different kind of sight. He shouldn't complain about the blessing he didn't have, and should instead count the ones he did have. He couldn't help but be envious of her though, and of the beautiful melody her slowly quickening fingers produced.

Maybe she had made mistakes, but Stitch in his adoring stupor had not even noticed.

As she let the song slowly draw to an end, and gave him a compliment, he shook his head quickly. Lifting a hand to wave away her comment, as if mentally denying her the pleasure, a pain suddenly shot through his head. Malia would see the two veins bulging in his forehead, stretching out from underneath his bandages, apparently coming from his eyes. He winced, cocking his head, the raised hand going to hold his forehead. He touched fingertips to his skull, massaging the skin, and the veins quickly receded. He shook his head, seemingly free of the sudden pain, quickly lifting his head once more. It only lasted a few seconds, and he continued on without taking any kind of note to it. Like it had never happened, almost.

"That was beautiful, milady Malia. You most certainly are skilled, and this one only tried to keep up." He gave her a bright and beaming smile, which was normal for him. This was a nice place to visit, it had been so long since he had gone out with a friend. The aura of the stone garden was beautiful, glowing brightly from every single section of the place. Perhaps it was because of the history behind this place, perhaps that was why everything was so... bright. As if the aura had only been growing, for years upon years. The people who were buried here surely had once had truly gorgeous auras.

Snapping from his thoughts, Stitch reached out for the small pack he had brought along for them, pulling it to his side. Grinning up at her again, now looking much like a little kid, he unbuckled the top of the leather satchel. "This one made a present for you, as a way to thank you for being such a help with the children."

A single vein throbbed in his forehead, and he winced once again, but then quickly straightened. Just as quickly as the vein vanished.

[Malia]

Malia’s black orbs widened as she saw her opponent cringe and wince with sudden pain. “What’s the matter?” There was an edge to her voice, a metallic tone that betrayed the ignorance she maintained in other situations. Recently this human had managed to break through her cold façade on more than one occasion. She still didn’t know if that was good, but at the moment she was sincerely worried. Humans were fragile beings – what hurt their body affected their soul as well. Malia, who lived through her ichor and wore bodies like clothing styles, couldn’t quite understand that, but she saw that something wasn’t right.

But obviously he was able to remove the pain himself, so she didn’t do or say anything else. Her worries and caring words were drowned in the emptiness and numbness she had accumulated during the centuries. There was nothing she could do for him. He belonged to the living – and whether a human continued living or died wasn’t in her hands. Even illnesses or pain shouldn’t concern her. The only emotion she allowed herself to feel was curiosity. Perhaps the right moment to ask would find her this evening. Not now though.

Her attention turned to the leather satchel Stitch had brought with him. Considering his talents, she could already guess what it contained. Still she waited patiently for Stitch to unveil the surprise himself. The beam on his face remained, should remain. “That was unnecessary”, she simply commented, very well aware that he would wipe any protest away. She merely said it to say anything at all and to conform to the rules of politeness she always followed. Politeness was everything Stitch would get from her, ever. She wore it like a shield, a warning that he shouldn’t come too close and a reminder for herself to not fall for the emotional nature of a single human too much.

The second fit of bulging veins didn’t go unnoticed though. Malia decided not to continue ignoring those incidents. She calmly reached out, took his right hand into her ice-cold one and placed it at the strings. “Let your fingers explore the strings. It will calm you. And then tell me what is wrong with you.” Just as his cheerful attitude hadn’t allowed any protest before, her stony expression and tone wouldn’t be satisfied with excuses. It was reasonable to tell the truth, after all. She had lived longer than him, so she might know what his problem was and be able to give advice.

[Stitch]

He was about to pull his surprise from the satchel when she took his hand in his, causing him to give a start suddenly, as if surprised. He wouldn't resist really, it was more of a slight shiver when she grabbed him. Tilting his head upwards, he regarded her curiously, allowing the Nuit full control of his soft palm and long fingers. As she settled them on the strings, and demanded to know what was wrong with him, the smile fell from his face. He let his fingers still on the strings, still regarding her, but with something different than curiousity now. His head cocked to the side slightly, and he turned his hidden gaze down toward the strings that she had told him to play. He wasn't so sure he could obey that command. She had been a little less than graceful at first, but he knew he would be quite awkward the entire time. How could he hope to match the musical prowess she had shown to him, when he knew not a thing about how the strings worked? He had just been thinking about how difficult it looked, how impossible it must be for someone like him. He was surprised he could even make out the different strings, with their nearly non-existant aura. Pausing a little longer, he mentally glanced back up to her, and realized he really did not have a choice. Her aura was firm and cold, hard as a rock. Any gentleness he might try to throw at it would simply bounce off, likely resulting in frustration for the both of them.

Sighing a bit, he plucked one of the strings gingerly, and winced when it screeched at him. Okay, wrong string. Trying again, still quite hesitant, he used another finger to pluck a completely different string. That one also resulted in a soft screech, even if it was a different sounding screech. Maybe he could at least try to string together a simple screeching tune? He tried to recall the strings Malia had been plucking to come out with her beautiful song, but he couldn't remember them. His head started to hurt when he tried to recall the recent memory.

Ah yes, she wanted to know about the pain. He had been in pain, hadn't he? Trying to put a comforting smile on his face, but still plucking the strings to keep her happy, he slowly spoke. "This one couldn't tell you for sure, milady. And this one promises that is the honest truth. This one sometimes gets hit with sharp headaches that start behind this one's eyes, and travel to this one's temple. They aren't particularly harmful, just rather annoying. This one should probably go to a temple, or a medic, or a priest, and have it checked out... But this one rarely finds some time to himself, and when this one does, he likes to spend it like this. Milady makes for some good company, if you would allow this one a compliment." His soft smile had turned to the grin of a little boy once more. It appeared he rarely got adult time, and had truly learned to treasure it.

Still plucking at the strings, Malia might notice he was slowly devising some small, simple tune, even if the sound he was producing still sounded horrible. Every now and then one would screech louder than the one before, and Stitch would wince, and go back to quieter plucks of the strings. He was still trying though, right? With his other hand, he awkwardly undid the latch on the little leather satchel, and stuffed a hand inside. Struggling just a bit still, he pulled out what looked to be a roughly framed picture, the actual artwork just a sheet of paper that had been drawn on with some crayons. The artwork was obviously Stitch's, it was horrible. There were what looked to be five people, terribly drawn, some of the lines not connecting, make them look like disfigured and dismembered stick people. Two were tall, on each end of the three smaller ones in the middle of the picture. Names had been roughly scrawled onto the page, and were barely readable. Only after Stitch pointed at the page and explained, did any of it make sense. And quickly he did, with that same grin, innocently unaware that his picture had been massacred by his own hands.

"See, the two people on the end are this one, and milady. The three in the middle are the children, and these are all of our names. There is also this little saying at the bottom, this one came up with it himself." His fingers never actually got the positions right, pointed at blank spaces sometimes, but getting across the general idea, with some luck. His finger ended up at the saying at the bottom, this part being the only one he actually hit dead on.

"Friendship needs no words - it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness."