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Duty And ArtThe candle that lay sputtering in the middle of the table flared up indignantly for a brief moment, as if mounting a final assault against the shadows that loomed over the nooks and crevices littered throughout the cramped room. Candelabras, picture frames, stamps and letters from an era in which such puerile methods of communication were all that was available - relics of a bygone Age (patroness included) congregated together for warmth, of a sort, in the Highs and Lows of the old woman's store. The flame's efforts were short lived, however. A darker force - the wind, or perhaps the shadows themselves, made a most effective rebuttal, and soon all that was left to light the room was a subtle, wan spark atop a petulant stub of wax. In the thin light the little old woman imagined a thousand horrors, half of them unspeakable, the other half very, very real. The candle flickered and her eyes narrowed. She wetted her dry, cracked lips, and attempted to speak. What came out was somewhere between a whisper and a hiss. "Yes, I know she's coming soon." The shadows wavered. "What would you have me do?" The room had never seemed more still. The patroness shuddered. "I'll be killed." The lack of a response was more than she needed to hear. She knew better than to argue with her employers. They were implacable - hell, they weren't, for all intents and purposes. Obsolescence is a bitch. Perhaps Oblivion will be sweet... I've been tired for a long, long time. With that, a little bell by the door jingled, and Kyoko Nagami floated into the Antique Store. The air suddenly seemed to carry the scent of cherry blossoms, and for a second she considered telling her visitor exactly what she came to hear. Still, orders were orders. She turned her eyes to the young lady. Kyoko was wearing a dress that drew the eye like nothing the old woman had ever seen. The leaves patterned across the front seemed to rustle as the Kyoko slid into the store. A... sudden gust? sent the leaves flying across the folds of her dress and revealed a stark, bare tree beneath. The old woman blinked twice, and looked again. Mind tricks... child's play. Kyoko stopped a few feet in front of the woman, and smiled. She spoke, and her voice was as beautiful as that of any dying songbird. "I need to find him." "Him? Who is this you're speaking of, dearie? Hold on a minute, I just need to get this box, and I'll be right with you." She took a step towards her little ladder, her mind racing. Her thoughts were interrupted when the box swept down off the shelf and landed squarely in her arms. She raised an eyebrow. Kyoko smiled again. "You know who I seek." The old woman smiled, small, tight. Her kept here eyes down, focused on the contents of the box. She pulled a large phonograph from the depths of the package, and laid it down with a *thunk*on the table, making the candle jump and stutter. The green, curved surfaces of the old sound maker glided out to form a twisted, demented kind of flower, looking for all the world like a Black Hole, more likely to suck in all the life, light of the room than to emit a cheerful tune. She took a dusty vinyl record and laid it on the bed of the record player. She took hold of the crank, and began to turn, slowly, surely, for the last time. "Perhaps I do know." Kyoko's eyes flashed. "Perhaps?! You'll tell me where Devyn is now, old woman, or I'll send you back to the Void where you belong!" Her hands unclenched, fingers splayed, ready to drag themselves through the fabric of reality with her deadliest palette. The silence was deafening. The old woman stopped turning the crank, and the record began to turn. Her eyes were downcast once more. Pointless. No struggle. None She spoke again, through gritted teeth. "I cannot help you, child." She had time enough to place the needle on the record before the letter opener from the Third Imperial Era imbedded itself in the nape of her neck, just above her collarbone. The strains of the song rose above her screams, piano and ghostly voice coming out rough, tattered, but strong. Heaven, I'm in Heaven... The shadows flashed, and a chandelier from 18th century France collapsed on the agent of the Void, caving in part of her skull, as she tried frantically to call upon her power, to summon the Darkness of the Void to strike out at her assailant. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak... She felt nothing. Nothing where her power should have been, and nothing where the pain should have been. Nothingness was her reward for obedience, and it was colder, and more austere than she had ever imagined. And I seem to find the Happiness I seek... The shadows danced with the flames of the candle, and seemed to laugh. Kyoko watched as the wild spray of blood from the old woman trickled down the lips of the phonograph. Rich, thick, dark. One of my best mediums She turned to leave, but the song's next words caught her, tugged at her whole being like a spider working silently on its web. When we're out together Dancing Cheek to Cheek The needle skipped, and silence descended on the room once more. Kyoko thought briefly of Autumn's Tempest, and sighed a sparrow's sigh. The artist looked down upon the lifeless corpse of her foe. Clutched in a bloody hand, the woman held a small slip of paper, fragile, tattered. Kyoko stooped down and picked up the scrap, staring at both sides briefly. As she rose and left the shattered store, trailing cherry blossoms, grief, and anger, the ticket floated to the ground, lighting on the slowly growing pool of blood spread across the room. It floated on the surface for a moment, like a petal on a still lake, before beginning its slow descent into the sea of red. The word "Amber" was visible for a brief moment, before the dream was lost forever in Death, and the Void. |
