Lonely Suitors (Now Open!)

[Garland Von Clossen]

The sun shone through the large windows of Garland's room, starting as only a small line and growing. It traveled as slow as a wise man walking a garden, taking his own time to make sure that nothing was left unappreciated. The light eased on and touched the foot of Garland's massive bed. It continued it's journey and gently brushed the older boogies face, seeming to slow down for a moment as it did so. This time of year was always one of the roughest times for the ancient being. But as all suns must, it moved on, stroking the eye lids with it's warmth.

The instant the light came in contact with the eye lids of the old man, his eyes slowly opened, dull and lifeless. The night before he went to bed with little trouble, the date not making a difference to him, as usual. Today, as he recalled, was the day of lover's. Sleep wold not come to him if he tried to ignore the sun and it's ugly light. It never worked, none of the thousands of times he tried. Sitting up, the sheet that had covered him fell off his chest, showing his muscles, very much ready to give the toughest being in Wonderland a run for his money.

There he sat, arms hanging limply between his covered legs, staring at them. How often had he held her hands? How often had these hands gently brushed aside her auburn hair so he could delve into those perfect green eyes that would make a forest jealous? These hands were the last thing that held Kathryn in her last moments of life. The dull azure eyes began to water, though the tears never did escape. Turning his gaze away from the hands which he envied so, he looked at a picture on his night stand, framed in a cool green metal.

The painting was large enough to be viewed plainly from the bed. Turning it side ways, he lay his head back down, facing it. The portrait of his dearest Kathryn smiled back at him, the eyes and smile he loved so much feeling much further away than usual. Her dress was of a fine silk, a pure white with traced of gold in the thread. It was an anniversary gift Garland had given her one year. She told him that it was tacky, but she loved it just the same because it was from him.

A finger, naked and ungloved, reached out and traced her face, as if she were with him. "Hey," He whispered, feeling the moment was more reverent than ever before. "I miss you, Kathryn." Garland's tears could not be held back as they silently rolled down his cheeks, some even being caught in his small beard. "Not a day, hour, minute, or even moment goes by where I don't stop to think of you. You know this, don't you?" Sniffling, Garland continued speaking to his deceased wife, not stopping until he could find no other words to explain his year.

"I must go, my dearest," Garland said, his tear stained cheeks leaving the pillow. "I must continue trying to drown out this sorrow." Sitting up, he hopped out of bed, the white pants he wore from the other day covered in dirt and smears of odd colors. What had he done yesterday? The thought left as quickly as it came, Garland only moving to his cabinet. Within there was an array of his suits, all made of the finest material and stitched by only the most deft hands in their trade. Moving them to the side as if they were trash, Garland picked out an old, tattered jacket, barely held together from a mixture of poor craftsmanship and age.

Kathryn made this for him one day. She was not the best at the art of tailoring, but Garland treasured this above all other jackets. Putting on his customary white shirt, he proceeded to put the jacket on gently, as if he were handling a holy relic. The boogie turned toward his reflection in the open door of his wardrobe and examined himself. This year he would get it. Grabbing an ascot from the other door, he proceeded to try and tie it. Immediately his hands fumbled, remembering when Kathryn would do so for him. Garland would always complain that she took so long, but she would only shush him and tell him that she could do it better. It was an argument that was never resolved.

After ten minutes of failure Garland finally ripped the expensive piece of clothing and threw it on the ground. Perhaps next year...

The boogie came to his bedroom door and sighed, a hand rubbing his forehead. Opening the door with a little hesitation, Garland moved swiftly down the halls, eyes down on the ground. He did not want to see any of this. His hands cupped his ears. Garland did not want to hear any of this. Sweet poems and songs filled the hallways, romance thick in the air. Heart Day was Garland's bane. His barefeet moved quicker and quicker as he barreled down the hallways and through the open doors at the entrance.

The elder raced down the path to the town, moving past couples and dodging the signs and wares sold for the holiday. At the end of a stall he moved down an alley, escaping the main horde of love. At this point his hands dropped into his pockets and his stride slowed. It was only the late morning when he arrived at the Lonely Suitor, a bar set up only for those avoiding the festivities of the day. Opening the door, Garland noticed that, as usual, there were few people here. He moved to a secluded corner, waving at the barkeep. He knew what to bring.

Two glasses and two bottles, one for each of them. The boogie so desired to uncork his bottle and begin to drink away the pain this day always brought. Crossing his arms, Garland's gaze froze on the alcohol, becoming glassy as the memories of Kathryn flowed freely back to him.

[Kazn Ezel]

Midnight was the witching hour. It was a thought that Kazn had considered many times before, but never did it yield any new insight. Syeira had always possessed a much keener mind when it came to considering the many mysteries of time. For now, Kazn would be satisfied that it represented the moment that tomorrow became today and today became yesterday and the definitions of such things as days suddenly seemed terribly arbitrary.

The tomorrow that was now today marked the beginning of his vigil. Gloved hands pressed quietly against the white teeth of the piano. A familiar tune spread out from the keys as his fingers moved in awkward ways. He had always been proud of the way he could evoke sound from that seemingly little keyboard. Music danced outwards in waves and patterns that seemed impossible for only one set of hands.

They were pieces written with the intention of being played by two people upon one keyboard. The beauty and mystery of four hands as two was still not something Kazn pretended to understand, but it never seemed enough. Were it that he had seven pairs of hands to play for her it would still not be enough. And even if it were that he somehow possessed fourteen hands as two, no septette would do her justice. And so he simply had to surrender himself to the fact that he was not equal to the task before him and play as best as he could all night long.

During the winter the sun took a little longer to rise than in the summer, so he played for what must have been seven hours straight on that piano while awaiting sunrise. His hands and fingers ached so much that he swore they were bleeding.

He risked a quick cold bath before getting dressed for the day. The chilling numbness might give him the strength to get through the day without incident, after all. The world was silent as he dried himself off, but the echoes of the night still rang loudly in his ears. The echoes played upon each other like an endless fugue.

An Ezel always dressed well. Leather shoes, black slacks and a white button-up shirt were necessities. However, he left the jacket on the hanger. Instead, he pulled a black silk ribbon and tied it upon his left arm in a bow. He cut a fresh rose from his bush and gently lowered it into a vase. Next to the vase was a single white beeswax candle. Wordlessly he lit the wick and watched the small flame flicker up. A small picture sat on the table. It was face down so he wouldn't have to look at it. He reached to pull it up, but choked as he did so.

He coughed as though to clear his throat. There was nothing for him to choke on, after all. He lifted the portrait up and risked a glance at the oil painting contained within. Within was depicted a pale-skinned beauty with dark black hair. It had taken four days to paint and she had been patient as he made certain everything was perfect each and every day.

He cast his glance away and pulled on a pair of gloves. Just before opening the door out of his room he wiped away at his eyes, in case anything was caught in them. He'd rather not explain any staining, after all. Kazn locked the door behind him and walked to the Lonely Suitor. Sitting there was his companion for many years, and it looked like he had already ordered for them.

"Fancy seeing you here. I thought you'd be out enjoying the festivities." It was a lie. Kazn and Garland never spoke about why they were here together, but neither of them ever enjoyed the festivities on this day. It was a poor attempt at humor that Garland Von Clossen seemed to entertain.

Kazn took his seat and started to pour his own glass for the toast.

[Garland Von Clossen]

Garland gave a start at being called. It was a minor relief to be pulled back into reality. The boogie mustered a small, pitiful smile to his companion. "I need to rest sometime, don't I?" Taking his own drink, the eccentric poured his own glass, the nearly pure alcoholic drink having a bittersweet meaning. Soon everything would be dulled and better. "I would think that someone such as yourself would be off trying to get some sort of amusement as well. Feeling the burden of time, are we?" This joke was far from his regular humor, more suitable to be spoken by a toad than this man.

His voice was nothing like any could recall. Was this not the man who could find something fun in average, everyday life? Raising his full glass, Garland looked to his seasonal friend. Though it was a tough day for the both of them, this brokenhearted man was glad that there was someone who could understand him. Maybe. It was funny. Neither spoke of their woes, but Garland could guess. As sure as Kazn could figure out his own troubles. It was an unspoken agreement to not discuss this topic.

"So, are we going to come up with something new this year, or shall we keep to tradition?" Garland asked, inspecting his glass. "It always sounds like a great idea an hour or two from when we start, but it never seems to catch on as magnificently as we think it will, huh?" Sighing, Garland returned his gaze to Kazn, finally offering his glass to the man to toast.

[Kazn Ezel]

The burden of time; a thought that his close enough to home to give Kazn pause. Yes, the burden of time was deep on his body and mind. It could be taken to mean several things, and all of them were accurate statements in some way, shape or form. However, time was no longer relevant.

His finger traced the top of his now full glass cautiously. Almost casually he slipped something from his pocket and put two drops into his own drink. "Time... is an artificial construct." It was something peculiar to say as he lifted up the glass into the air. "Though it weighs heavily on me all the same."

Garland was very old and Kazn could not remember a time when this man was otherwise. His father had claimed there had been a much different set of circumstances, though he had neglected ever mentioning what may have brought about the change. There was one hint in which Kazn did not go digging around. A man was allowed to keep a skeleton or two in his closet, after all.

"I think we shall keep with tradition once again, for what else do we have, if not the past?"

Kazn's glass touched Garland's. It was a solemn sound. He stated a simple creed for the toast. "To a day to remember to forget." There were many days he wished he could remember to forget.

[Garland Von Clossen]

Garland muttered the same line in reply, only wanting to quickly become intoxicated. Garland took the next few minutes to silently refill his glass, empty it, and repeat the process until his bottle was gone. The dull blue eyes watched the empty bottle for a minute, turning it this way and that. The worst part was now upon them for this annual event: The awkward conversation until one of both of them were drunk enough to become lighthearted beings. Or at least more relaxed than they were now.

"So, how're your little ones doing?" Garland asked, giving an absent nod to the barkeep as he swapped the bottles out for fresh ones as they need be. Taking this new container, the boogie filled his new cup and brought it to his lips before furthering his question. "Naelona still going about as if the world may crumple if she does not oversee every living being?" It was a lighthearted question. True, she was always a busy bee, but Garland knew she meant well. Even if it did cut into some of his greater ideas.

Garland almost brought up Anolean, but stopped. There was rumors of this boy no longer being single... And that was a sour topic today. Another large gulp as he emptied another cup.

[Kazn Ezel]

Kazn had an ear for sound. Sound was little more than meaningful vibrations interpreted by the ears in close enough proximity to catch the waves. The sound of glasses clinking together was the product of factors including the thickness of the glasses, the density and volume of the liquids contained within and the force with which the two glasses would meet. There was no musical quality to it whatsoever, but it helped to consider such things. It kept his mind distracted for the brief moments between the toast and bringing the drink to his lips.

It would not be long before he might reach a comfortably numb state. Of course, that was something that could not come nearly quickly enough. Kazn was not the type to swill alcohol at a greater speed than it deserved, even when in a hurry to numb his nerves.

Respectfully, he finished his glass once Garland started the questions. At some point or another, either he or Master Von Clossen would ask a question to break the silence. Something to keep their minds busy. Perhaps they would pull in a game board later and waste time with a simple child's game of checkers.

Von Clossen was the first to break the period of silence, and with a question that Kazn wished he had imbibed twice as much alcohol as he had taken care of thus far. He finished the glass slowly and refilled it for the sixth time. He did not bother with the drops to flavor this time. "I have no children," Kazn admitted in a tone both soft and adamant. "But the other Ezels attend their own affairs much the same as to be expected. Young Mistress Ezel spends her days micro-managing the world--a fool's errand. Young Master Ezel... is more or less the same."

Kazn took a long and slow draw from his glass. He did not stop pulling the spirits from it once during the entire process before setting an empty glass in front of him. "I understand that you've pulled more money from your account. Have a few more projects under wraps, I take it?"