Completed Dampened Spirits

[Ricky Maze]

Dampened Spirits Part 1.5 of The Part Of Moving On Winter 18, 512 AV; 20th Bell Reality becomes difficult to grasp. We feel the agony of truth and wish it a lie, creating a veil between two worlds; the imaginary and the real world. However when we dwell in our imagination for to long, we seek a way out of it. A way out and away from the pain the truth brings, it's then and there we learn; in order to live in reality one must go through pain. That is how the real world works... It was getting close to the hours that demanded sleep, and Ricky wasn't ready to face what waited beyond sleep. He was to find something to do to keep him awake and cjase sleep away, of course now that he was returning to the grotto he had felt the warmth of the inn combined with that of his own. Where had he gone? To the Kelp Bar of course, for a couple of drinks to bring a peace of mind. Hopefully one not plagued with the nightmares he wished to evade, it was of course doomed to fail though as it had been for the past few days. Ricky had entered to find patrons about enjoying their food and whatnot while he made his way to a lonely table in the very back. He needed a distraction to keep awake so it was best to observe what he could to occupy his mind. The intoxication alcohol provided had the wonderful effect of making his mind focus on a single task, rather then processing multiple ones at one like he normally did. Each thought a random one that followed with the change of subject, as he finally took a seat and relaxed his arms on the table. What he did next was use the singled out thoughts to provide for his distraction, unaware that his head was already finding itself resting on his arms. He kept his mind wondering from subject to subject as he felt his eyelids grow heavy. 'Thinkin I might check out the stores at some point. The Cerulean Pier is nice but it's rather cold this year. I hope my shift is a easy one tomorrow. Maybe I might see... the...' His mind now began to slow down as his eyes were shut, he believed he would be just resting them of course as his body was relaxed. Ricky was not aware of the fact that he was slipping away into sleep, where no doubt that nightmare awaited him once more...

[Valo]

More often than not an artist may find him self so swallowed up by work that he will stay secluded within his study for days on end. And this very alienation had a habit of screwing it self into Valo's mind so deep that he begins doubting the very purpose of it all. A mind constantly cluttered by thoughts it doesn't need. Of course the deeper into winter he delved, the better he'd been feeling, the more he strolled purposefully - or purposelessly- around the streets in order to occupy him self before returning to work. A ritual of breaking a ritual. And that ritual to be broken was the perpetual locking of one self within his house and painting from dusk till dawn. In face Valo had even found him self with little work recently and the majority of his time had been spent on increasing his skill. He'd spent countless hours developing his knowledge of colour theory which he had been so in love with and linear drawing and even several painting techniques, but there's only so much a man can do before his well of inspiration runs dry. A subtle message from his very mind that it is time for a break, a stroll; time for some fresh air. And what better way was there to preoccupy his ever misbehaving mind than to go see a good acquaintance of his? Upon arriving at the Grotto, the place of Ricky's residence, it didn't take long before he sussed out the bear man at a lonesome table in the corner. However upon closer inspection he appeared to be sleeping, hunched over the table with his head on his arm, eyes closed in the leas blissful manner. In fact it seemed that everything about Ricky's every action radiated grief. And it was about time he was to share this grief with the red haired artist, for what better way is there to move on, than to make use of a friendly shoulder to cry on. "Hey there Ricky." Valo said quietly, nudging the fisherman gently. It was most improper to sleep in a public area like this - not that impropriety really bothered the artist - and somewhat dangerous. One never knows what horrors lurk in the shadows on a warm inn, ready to take advantage of those under influence. And there's no greater influence than that of the sand man. Valo leaned over him a little, placing his hand on the man's shoulder, nudging him again.

[Ricky Maze]

Ricky felt something slip past his guard, and before he could register what was happening his eyes no longer revealed the tavern he was in. It was the docks once more, and once again the same bastard stood before Ricky ready to thrust his blade. Ricky urged for himself to wake up, not wanting to see the event that happened next; but nothing he did worked. He felt something tug against him but his mind was to occupied, the nightmare played out before him again as it did each time before when he slept. Odis lunged in earnest to defend his master, and in the moment of terror when the blade flew to the dog Ricky hollared. Of course that was in the dream he did so, when he awoke he jumped up in a startled cold sweat. Looking to see Valo with alerted eyes. "What?! What do ya want?!" He was shocked to see Valo, even more so since he was the one present instead of the pirate. "What time is it?" He asked with great curiosity, though there was more of a hope for something. A hope that he has slept through the night and into the dau, a hope that he felt was rather dismal to keep. He still felt tired and sleepy and the warmth the inn provided wasn't helping, not when he sought to keep the terrible dreams at bay.

[Valo]

"Its just past 20th Bell."he said, startled perhaps at the notes of hostility within the fisher's voice. Instinctively he backed up just a step, giving the man space to calm down. No it was not alright, though manners compelled him to ask that very pointless question. "Are you ok Ricky? It seemed almost like a terrible dream has been plaguing you." The expression within the artist's features was that of utmost concern. Did it really matter that the two weren't the closest of friends? Did he really need such a reason to voice concern about the other? Surely not, for if that was the case then the world would be filled with strangers and nothing more. A lonely existence. Or perhaps one more lonely than at present. "May I sit?" he asked quietly and politely, trying very hard to refrain him self from imposing upon the poor fisherman. Though his slender fingers already brushed the back of the other chair at the table. It seemed many people often found Valo imposing and arrogant even though that was really not the case. For under that blanket of eloquence and extravagance and manner, lay a gentle heart. He didn't think him self better than everyone else, though perhaps to some it seemed that's precisely the way he carried hi self. Sometimes more intelligent perhaps and often well red, but not better. This flamboyance of his was simply a manner he could not void him self of. In fact, a manner he prided him self upon. An artist must carry him self like an artist.

[Ricky Maze]

Valo seemed startled by Ricky's reaction, which Ricky couldn't honestly blame the man. "Its just past 20th Bell." He confirmed as he slightly backed away, no doubt pondering if this was a bad time. "Are you ok Ricky? It seemed almost like a terrible dream has been plaguing you." "Huh? Oh, yeah I'm fine." Ricky tried his best to sound so sure of himself, although he himself didn't even know anymore. "Just exhausted is all, sleep comes and goes nowadays..." "May I sit?" Valo was asked in quiet mannerism, such a thing didn't seem absolutely necessary to Ricky right now. Ricky only nodded and showed the seat next to him, quietly sliding his chair over to give a respectable distance between the two. Ricky felt bad for not being able to recall Valo's name of course, but compared to the overwhelming exhaustion he had du to little sleep... well he certainly wasn't bothered names right now. "So uh..." His mind drew a blank where a name would be inserted, and when he thought on it he squinted. Unable to recall any sort of name he decided to carry on with the question, "H-how's the thing ye doin?.." He didn't recall anything come to think of it, the fisherman had what little sleep since then combined with intoxication. Therefore memory wasn't his ally in this bell of need.

[Valo]

"H-how's the thing ye doin?.."the fisherman posed the question, though perhaps his interest in such frivolous small talk lacked, which was apparent indeed. And thus the artist kept his answer of polite length, yet not too long to barrage the man with nonsensical detail. "We have our better days and our worse days. And in terms of work I presume I can freely deem this a worse day. However in spirit it's as good a day as any other." Valo was perhaps the type of man who thrived in occasional outbursts of feeling sorry for himself. And even in a life as pampered as his - for indeed he supposed it pampered - there was no shortage of little things to allow him for such self pity. The lack of constant self occupation, the lack of a muse; it all seemed so important, until of course he stumbled upon Ricky who's pain deeply belittled his own. And determined Valo would soon find out the cause of such pain. "Tell me Ricky, how fares you? Or more importantly, what may cause a man such as your self to drink quite that much. You see it is quite apparent you're a stranger to the game of alcohol. And perhaps if you share your sorrows, I may at least try to help, if that is of course possible." the smile began slowly fading from Valo's alabaster features and was replaced by a soulful expression, one of deep understanding. "I do not mean to pry, but rather offer my self as a friend, to support you shall you need me.

[Ricky Maze]

"Tell me Ricky, how fares you? Or more importantly, what may cause a man such as your self to drink quite that much. You see it is quite apparent you're a stranger to the game of alcohol. And perhaps if you share your sorrows, I may at least try to help, if that is of course possible." Valo had now given a understanding look to the fisherman, his eyes bore the expression of a concerned friend even though he was not. Or at least he may have been. "I uh..." Ricky couldn't really find the words to say, as he let the red haired man continue. "I do not mean to pry, but rather offer my self as a friend, to support you shall you need me." He reassured Ricky with ease, no doubt hoped to bring comfort to him as well. "I'm fine." He said to Valo in a soft spoken voice, one that sounded rather guilty instead of honest. It was a lie and an excuse, a facade he kept putting up even if it tired him out. Yet Ricky hadn't the energy to keep everything buried within much longer. "I just haven't had enough sleep is all." He looked to the table instead of Valo, a hint to the observant that revealed he was hiding the truth.

[Valo]

In his sober state, Ricky spoke much less than when intoxicated. A man in a fortress of stone, with walls that reached the sky, enclosing him in perpetual darkness. And he had two choices. One was to huddle in the centre of that very fortress and cry until he'd have no more tears to cry with. or he could yell for help, let Valo know he needed assistance. And then and only then could the artist breach those very walls and aid his friend on the read to recovery. Of course in the mean time, a general study of those very walls could be of use. The artist nodded as the fisherman's words reached his ears. His quick with already forming a gentle prod at his seclusion. Not one of interference, but subtle encouragement to refrain from hiding behind obvious lies. "Not enough sleep, eh?" he said, a gentle note of exotic accent in his voice. "An excuse as good as any other, but I can hardly believe you had not enough sleep for over fifteen days since we met each other." It was not a question, yet s questioning statement. A general observation which had the mannerism of questioning within it. And how had Valo known that Ricky was lying? Well that answer was almost painfully simple. Everything from the way the fisherman spoke, to his body language. Subtle hints in the way he looked not at his companion, which was expected by social standard when addressing another, but at the table. Eyes which sought comfort by turning away from an outstretched hand. Those hints failed to escape the observant eyes of the red haired man.

[Ricky Maze]

"An excuse as good as any other, but I can hardly believe you had not enough sleep for over fifteen days since we met each other." Valo stated heartedly when he looked to the broken fisherman, who now felt a little guilty for such a thing. More so about the fact he was caught more then actually hiding his problem. It wasn't really Valo's business but he somehow persisted to make it so, like a any other real friend would in important matters such as this. Ricky however was to stubborn to allow such burden fall on his friends shoulder's. "There's just..." He had no other way to avoid it, there were too many times beforehand he tried denying his problems. Each time made the next harder than the last, and it was getting to the point where he could no longer bring in a different reason other then his not too distant past. "Well..." He sighed as he finally gave in, no longer able to fight the facts any more. "I lost somebody important to me. My dog actually. I've been havin nightmares since then..." He was probably making little sense, but when it came to this subject everytime he could feel what was left of him crumble. Chipping apart slowly as the truth waited to tear open the shell he hid within. He was alone now and he felt that way, his troubles and his burden was left for him to deal with; there was no need to drag anyone else into it. He still had yet to look to Valo, only because he didn't want the man to see the amount of pain he had to deal with. It was the personal matter of pride, the part in which demanded he look strong even if he was falling to pieces inside. He had to be independant, there was no other solution to it...

[Valo]

If the fisherman was to look to the artist, which he didn't, he would see the subtle parting of lips and the fallen expression and the pure sympathy that manifested within the green orbs of his eyes. Perhaps to any other soul, this state that Ricky was in and the reason for it would seem foolish. But it wasn't any random person sitting before him, but the fundamentally soft hearted idealist to whom a loss was a loss. He had too once lost a companion dear to him, in face he had lost him twice and there was non other, better than Valo, to share in this pain. None a better rock than the one who's heart was a feather stuffed pillow. The artist's hands reached across the table to touch those of Ricky's, an act of comforting. And truth it was, he had no business in all of this, but it did not stop him being a friend, for a friend was what Ricky now needed more than anything. He saw the outward shell of a man Ricky was, the composed man who needn't show his weaknesses. The man who thought he could bury it all inside. the man who presumed he'd deal with it all by him self. And Valo too saw the crumbling inside on the shell, the broken fisherman who could not be trusted around alcohol. Who, much like a vulnerable child, attempted at hiding behind this solemn mask of his. And there was nothing Valo wished more for that he would cease to hide, for his sake and for that of his dog. "What happened?" he asked quietly, very quietly and utmost politely, for if the fisherman chose not to answer, which he was more than entitled to, he needn't do so. His eyes fixed on Ricky, observing every little move for signs of discomfort, perhaps signs that he should cease to ask his questions, that he had crossed the line. A line one must cross to truly see where it lay.