The Quiet Places [Open]

The City of Lights was a beautiful monument to Quincy innovation, a testament to the strength of a people that had often worked from the shadows to maintain the balance of the world. A sprawling mass of luminescent white buildings that stretched from one horizon to another were one to stand at its core. But Alastair did not need to remind himself of these idle facts, rather they went through his head like a passing fancy and then departed to pester the next person found daydreaming in the sprawling metropolis.

The days of rest and respite were few and far between of late, as the Vandenreich pushed onwards with efforts to maintain order across the recently liberated Americas and the Sternritter at the forefront of such effort. So Alastair had come to treasure these moments of peace by visiting the quiet places tucked away within the pale labyrinth that had become his home. Some days it was a hidden garden, bathed in sunlight that found its way between the surrounding skyscrapers by some miracle, or perhaps an abandoned warehouses that nature had slowly begun to reclaim. Alastair's getaway of choice on this particular day was a tiny café tucked away between a pair of towering office blocks, yet strategically positioned across from the seafront for an optimal scenic view of the shifting tides.

Alastair had elected to sit at one of the few tables that had been set up out in front of the café and bask in the sun as it crept slowly across the sky, bringing with it a light breeze from across the water. His usually messy shock of red hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, pulled off the back of his neck though it still ran down past his shoulders. His outfit was also a different look from a standard Vandenreich uniform without straying too far from that style; with a white waistcoat worn over the top of a matching black shirt and tie, a gilded Quincy cross pinned over his heart, and thin white gloves that tucked neatly into the ends of his sleeves.

Several cups of coffee had already passed him by as the day wore on, the last of which still sat unfinished in front of him, as Alastair sat there thumbing lazily through a leather-bound journal. His eyes flicked from page to page, infrequently sparing a moment to look beyond its confines at the occasional passerby of interest or even gazing out into the surrounding waters themselves. The hours had passed by quickly, the sun now barely visible as dusk set in, but still he waited contently for the journey to be complete. There was something symbolic about the solar journey that resonated within him, that tireless dedication to a routine. Yet there was something equally liberating in seeing it come to an end, like finishing a shift at work and heading home for a night of rest.

So there Alastair sat, book in hand, watching the sunset and contemplating what it meant.

She sat in the corner of such a cafe, the notorious white witch of Cyrus sat back. From the spot she tried to avoid the attention of the passerbys, the people that might notice her. Sipping at the coffee thoughtfully, while contemplating the state of things. A lot of time had passed since she had given her aid to Cyrus and many days did she wonder if she had done right by it.

Still, things were so idle. Things moved at a snail's pace while she got closer and closer to death. Her inevitable end from a terminal situation, regardless of that circumstance Shirohime didn't despair. She had rejected her death for so long and existed by merit of willpower that it had all just blurred into numbness. At some point she had lost the ability to taste the coffee she sipped on but she forgot when it had occurred.

Her mind wandered and the sickly looking woman lost her composure for a moment which resulted in a coughing fit, a vicious one that had her wincing and drew the attention from people in the venue. She wished it hadn't. When she pulled her hand away she saw the blood and sighed. Just wipe it away. Wipe it away and reject the reality of it all.

Alastair was not one to intrude on the business of others, especially not those that were content to keep their business to themselves, and so there had been this unspoken respect between Shirohime and himself as they shared this quiet place together in isolation. A passing glance had been thrown her way from time to time, though he was simply scanning the surroundings rather than focusing upon her specifically.

This status quo had remained for a while, and he had begun to assume it would last the duration of their stay until the poor woman began had begun to cough and splutter. There was a hacking undertone that sounded most unpleasant even from the distance between them and so, despite uttering a quiet sigh of regret, he set down his book and moved to approach her secluded corner table.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam, but are you quite well? That was quite the display."

Amber eyes shifted from her face to the hand that she had been coughing into and back again, his lip curling slightly into a polite smile that tried to mask his true concern. He offered a napkin out with a gloved hand, should she still have use for it.

"I'm fine."

She responded while hiding her hand, especially after he had glanced towards it. The long white hair she had was tended to by her free hand that was clear of blood to neaten it after she had convulsed during her coughing fit. She missed when it wasn't this white.

"Thank.."

There was another small cough which prompted her to take a drink of water and take a moment to get her breath back.

".. you for asking."

It hardly took a professional to know that the lady was anything but fine, though it was hardly his place to dig deeper unless she truly wanted him to. His brow furrowed slightly as she declined the proffered cloth, whilst his hand eventually retreated to tuck the offending item away into a back pocket, before his eyes wandered toward a vacant chair at her table.

"It is the least I could do, truly. If you’ve a wont for a distraction then perhaps I could be of some small assistance."

Taking her mind off whatever ailed her seemed like a fine idea and, though he was hardly prepared for it, he felt obligated to help her get through this outburst.

”I’m Alastair, by the way. Alastair Eisfluch.”

"Very well."

Her breathing settled down, despite being less ragged it was still clear every breath was not an easy feat for her to do. Regardless of that painful circumstance, her face had returned from pained to a more comfortable and blank expression. It seemed almost serene.

"My name is Shirohime. You're from the Vandenreich. Right?"

She observed his outfit, he was a Quincy. She was familiar with the way they dressed. She had friends like that in her past who dressed up like that, back when there were fewer of them. Shirohime gave him a small smile, a faint one. It was nice to talk to people, spending so much time alone had really worn her down.

He settled upon a chair that was not directly facing her, instead choosing one angled away so that both could still observe the goings on in the cafe whilst holding a polite conversation and avoiding an awkward stare. His smile was also a facsimile of her own, equally thin and measured, but the company suited him just fine.

”An unexpected pleasure, Shirohime.”

Her name was an unfamiliar one and yet there was the vaguest sense of recognition in her eyes. Likely it was for the organisation rather than him personally, as he certainly wore enough regalia to reveal his allegiance absent of an official uniform.

”You are not mistaken. I’ve been with the order since before the war, doing my part to keep the world and its people safe.

There was pride beneath his words that stuck out despite his formal tone. A sense of accomplishment, at least.

”What of yourself? Are you just passing through or is the pale city your home too?”

"Uh huh."

She leaned forward again to take another sip and wash out the pain in her throat. How valiant of him to respond like that, so gallant. Shirohime took a look over at him thoughtfully while figuring out how to respond to the question. It wasn't like her status as Cyrus' adviser was hidden or anything. Hence why titles like White Witch had become associated with her by people that only saw her from afar.

Interacting with the actual organisation was something she rarely did. For a multitude of reasons, the most important being her health and how exhausting things like this could get.

"How nice, and yes it's my home. I've been here for quite some time now, it's so peaceful."

It was not like the White Witch was completely unknown to Alastair, and likely he had even heard her name mentioned in passing at a briefing or two, however he hardly expected to find her here in this secluded cafe of all places. Nor did he expect such a mythical figure within the organisation to suffer from a poor constitution, for it was rather quite alarming how badly this bloody cough was affecting her.

And so, perhaps to his folly, the dots had not connected for the erstwhile Quincy.

”That it is. I had never seen anything like it when I first came across from the mainland, not even in my wildest dreams.”

It was an odd thing to say, to be honest. He hardly knew why he was saying it as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Talking of dreams with a stranger whose company he had forced his way into. Perhaps that was why his cheeks tinted with colour, so he averted his gaze away from Shirohime and glanced to the window.

"How nice.. What is the mainland?"

Shirohime asked out of habit, not out of etiquette or anything like that. It was nice to learn about people and hear about their lives despite the fact she refused to share anything about herself. That person that she was would probably not recognise her anymore nor would the friends she once travelled with on adventures.

Idly she kept her gaze on him, even if her attention didn't necessarily come with her weary looking eyes. It was hard to give complete focus to something with so much pain but she tried. Shirohime thought to inquire about his blush but decided against it, no reason to scare off the nice man.