CAUSE I CAN FEEL THE RAIN
WASH AWAY MY SINS. AND I CAN FEEL THE PAIN
SEEPING OFF MY SKIN
cause every single time i'm searching for a way i'm always lost and never found
Several steps beneath the sunshine of an open window rests the withering figure of a lady who had worn out the last of her golden years, in both pride and solitude, alongside the unwavering loyalty of her exceed Maria and six gold plaques nailed to the wall behind her. In her hand wavers the porcelain of a dutifully loved teapot as a stream of tea arcs from its spout and into the golden trimmed cups below. Feeling satisfied with her chore, she'd recline further into her chair before pushing up the rims of her glasses, just an inch, so she could better see the fair strangers who seated themselves on the loveseats across from her's.
"Don't you have other places to be, Oswald-dear?" she asks.
The tea she pours him is a welcomed gesture, one that he reconciles with despite the context of the situation. He shakes his head, picking up the pearly cup that sits at his side of the coffee table with a smile curling both in modesty and gratitude, "Certainly not anywhere as important as this, madame." he said, "I'm prepared to lend you my full attention Eunice, until the end of your tales, or if you so choose to usher me out, that is."
"Ah...I wouldn't dare." a giggle, but one so fleeting as she takes a breath to rest a stare at the bright red creature on the far right. "But first, darling, could you come here please?" she'd say, ushering to Oswald's assistant with the thick hair to sit on the stool close to Eunice's chair.
Across the alchemist, a fuzzy bundle of scarlet came to slightly fidget in their seat upon the lady's prompting, their expression once vacant now replaced with that of momentary shock. Though Oz fancies that the surprise is a temporary facade relative to Padparadscha's mellow temperament. And true to his assumptions, the gem holds no such emotion for more than a fraction of a second as they briskly rise from their position close to their master to the space just beneath Eunice's reach.
The old woman gently threads her ringed fingers through the material of his assistant's hair, humming with a sound laced in satisfaction. "Your hair is such a pretty, vibrant color. If it weren't for the glassy texture, I'd have easily mistaken you for my daughter." she laughs, and the tone is full and brings Padpa to a calming stillness in a language only known to half-lid eyes and breathy yawns. "Vivi absolutely adored getting her hair braided, and I too, loved doing it in return."
"How is she now Eunice?" he said, unwilling to hazard a guess at the fate of anything related to the mother and child.
The first time he sees this jovial woman express a manner of despondency to her personal matters was the first pregnant pause after their 2-hour-and-then-some conversation. The pair of silver eyes behind her glasses appear to flicker with an emotion that he knew with an intimacy - sorrow, and her's was a muted sadness cloaked behind layers of happy memories, locked away.
Eunice shakes her head once, "She's fine...but I'd rather we talk about more...enlightening moments, after all, that is what you are here for, yes?"
To him, age was an unkind concept for human kind that sometimes carved their own damnation as it coordinates with ill-fated time; and between Eunice's loneliness and his curse, it was regret that had become the mutual formula for their grievances. Why must everything end with ruin? - it's a thought worth some ponder, but even he knew that the universe set the laws for purposes divine and incomprehensible, that destinies were written on dying stars.
Humanity is a terrible fate, he concludes without forethought. So for now Oswald settles for the world between his fingers and the empty tea cup, finding solace that there is still some way for his existence to provide the comfort in someone else's path as he trudges down his, bone-tired and bloody.
The alchemist replaces the fragile thing unto its saucer, the gentle clink a testimony to his resolve. "That, and then some." he said, "But a question for you Eunice is if you have enough tea to accommodate my stay, for I fear it'll be a long one."
A tea pot clatters noisily in the distance as Maria wordlessly retrieves it from the table, all the while her master continues to layer Padparadscha's scarlet bundles into neat little twines. "You're underestimating my capacity to hoard tea, good sir." Eunice said, beaming from ear to ear, "A wizard saint, retired or not, never fails a challenge."
"Don't you have other places to be, Oswald-dear?" she asks.
The tea she pours him is a welcomed gesture, one that he reconciles with despite the context of the situation. He shakes his head, picking up the pearly cup that sits at his side of the coffee table with a smile curling both in modesty and gratitude, "Certainly not anywhere as important as this, madame." he said, "I'm prepared to lend you my full attention Eunice, until the end of your tales, or if you so choose to usher me out, that is."
"Ah...I wouldn't dare." a giggle, but one so fleeting as she takes a breath to rest a stare at the bright red creature on the far right. "But first, darling, could you come here please?" she'd say, ushering to Oswald's assistant with the thick hair to sit on the stool close to Eunice's chair.
Across the alchemist, a fuzzy bundle of scarlet came to slightly fidget in their seat upon the lady's prompting, their expression once vacant now replaced with that of momentary shock. Though Oz fancies that the surprise is a temporary facade relative to Padparadscha's mellow temperament. And true to his assumptions, the gem holds no such emotion for more than a fraction of a second as they briskly rise from their position close to their master to the space just beneath Eunice's reach.
The old woman gently threads her ringed fingers through the material of his assistant's hair, humming with a sound laced in satisfaction. "Your hair is such a pretty, vibrant color. If it weren't for the glassy texture, I'd have easily mistaken you for my daughter." she laughs, and the tone is full and brings Padpa to a calming stillness in a language only known to half-lid eyes and breathy yawns. "Vivi absolutely adored getting her hair braided, and I too, loved doing it in return."
"How is she now Eunice?" he said, unwilling to hazard a guess at the fate of anything related to the mother and child.
The first time he sees this jovial woman express a manner of despondency to her personal matters was the first pregnant pause after their 2-hour-and-then-some conversation. The pair of silver eyes behind her glasses appear to flicker with an emotion that he knew with an intimacy - sorrow, and her's was a muted sadness cloaked behind layers of happy memories, locked away.
Eunice shakes her head once, "She's fine...but I'd rather we talk about more...enlightening moments, after all, that is what you are here for, yes?"
To him, age was an unkind concept for human kind that sometimes carved their own damnation as it coordinates with ill-fated time; and between Eunice's loneliness and his curse, it was regret that had become the mutual formula for their grievances. Why must everything end with ruin? - it's a thought worth some ponder, but even he knew that the universe set the laws for purposes divine and incomprehensible, that destinies were written on dying stars.
Humanity is a terrible fate, he concludes without forethought. So for now Oswald settles for the world between his fingers and the empty tea cup, finding solace that there is still some way for his existence to provide the comfort in someone else's path as he trudges down his, bone-tired and bloody.
The alchemist replaces the fragile thing unto its saucer, the gentle clink a testimony to his resolve. "That, and then some." he said, "But a question for you Eunice is if you have enough tea to accommodate my stay, for I fear it'll be a long one."
A tea pot clatters noisily in the distance as Maria wordlessly retrieves it from the table, all the while her master continues to layer Padparadscha's scarlet bundles into neat little twines. "You're underestimating my capacity to hoard tea, good sir." Eunice said, beaming from ear to ear, "A wizard saint, retired or not, never fails a challenge."
