Chrysanthemum <p align="center"><em> “The Chrysanthemum, while being a beautiful flower of the fall season, has a long history of being associated with sadness and grief. One reason for this association is the flower’s use in funeral arrangements and memorials….” </em></p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><img src="https://file.garden/ZcLnfzRVyFfOaPqB/png-divider-lines-tiny-edge-line-decorative-divider-png-512-1543281188.png " alt="" width="512" height="44" align="middle" /><br /><br /></p> <p>Wooden and stone walls encase the space, creating small pockets where people would decorate their homes. Nails hung up paintings and portraits, painting the bare walls with color. Fabrics on chairs and couches, allowing the room to shine in the sunlight. Floor swept, stove crackling, roof creaking under the rain.</p> <p> </p> <p>“Morning, my dear~”</p> <p> </p> <p>She looked up from her spot at the stove, smiling as a half asleep Private wrapped his arms from behind her, resting his chin on her right shoulder. A muffled grumble bubbled up from the man, and her laughter filled the small room, like wind chimes on a calm, sunny day. </p> <p> </p> <p>“You were out for a while last night! Anything new?”</p> <p> </p> <p>More grumbling, a soft kiss pressed to the side of her cheek. More laughter. </p> <p> </p> <p>“Alright, alright tough guy, let me set the table for us and you can get back to work. Or do you have the day off today?” A hopeful rise in her voice. If he could just see her eyes, they would sparkle. </p> <p> </p> <p>He hummed. Softly pulling away, grabbing a pair of plates and mugs. She sighed. </p> <p> </p> <p>“Figures, it’s still in the middle of the week. It would be nice to get away though. What about that little beach, to the southeast? Oh, it would be lovely to visit there and smell the salty air!”</p> <p> </p> <p>She always talked about the beach. How tales of those lost in life would be swept away, finding a new purpose when the water traveled someplace else. The food was better there too apparently. Plates soon decorate the table, and the warm smell of coffee blessed both of their graces. A small tangerine was in the middle, a piece here and there stolen by soft hands and a smile. </p> <p> </p> <p>A long kiss after he’s had his full, saying his usual goodbyes. Hopefully today will be an easy one. She hoped so too.</p> <p> </p> <p>Outside, flowers bloomed brightly.</p> <p align="center"><br /><img src="https://file.garden/ZcLnfzRVyFfOaPqB/png-divider-lines-tiny-edge-line-decorative-divider-png-512-1543281188.png " alt="" width="512" height="44" /></p> <p> </p> <p>“Morning, my dear~” </p> <p> </p> <p>Private Knight jolted awake, still in the movement of ripping his eyes. He blinked, looking towards the stove. He was there, a seemingly cheery expression under his silver mask. “I saw a few books in the library, and some mentioned recipes, so I tried them out!”</p> <p> </p> <p>The pan was held, turned towards him. A rock lodged itself in his throat.</p> <p> </p> <p>“It might be a bit burnt- I need to get better at flipping them. But it still looks good! Here—- you’re probably hungry…”</p> <p> </p> <p>Private nodded. He was. </p> <p> </p> <p>The lump in his throat never faded.</p> <p align="center"><img src="https://file.garden/ZcLnfzRVyFfOaPqB/png-divider-lines-tiny-edge-line-decorative-divider-png-512-1543281188.png " alt="" width="512" height="44" align="middle" /><br /><br /></p><p>The couch was quite soft, for being made with a budget. Looked nice too, decorating one far wall with a small, low table right in front of it. The newspaper was opened, held in his hands. Eyes scanned through the various articles, scouring for any reports. A gentle weight on his shoulder made him turn. He smiles as a soft hand went to touch his cheek.</p> <p> </p> <p>She snickers. “Darling, you're growing a forest on your chin again~” A dramatic sigh followed. “However am I supposed to lay here now?! With such a man, with such a face-” A shifting in positions, her head now in his lap. He looks down, smiling. A soft hand reaches up, caressing the side of his face. </p> <p> </p> <p>“... I love you.”</p> <p> </p> <p>He loved her too.</p> <p> </p> <p>Outside, the flowers leaned against the stone wall.</p> <p align="center"><br /><img src="https://file.garden/ZcLnfzRVyFfOaPqB/png-divider-lines-tiny-edge-line-decorative-divider-png-512-1543281188.png " alt="" width="512" height="44" align="middle" /></p><p>The couch was quite soft, for its age. Looked nice too, decorating one far wall with a small, low table right in front of it. The paper was again in his hands, opened. Eyes slowly scan through the pages, pausing at a small excerpt mentioning an import of flowers. The fabric to his left dipped, and a sudden weight settled in his lap. He stilled, looking back down. </p> <p> </p> <p>“… Hi.”</p> <p> </p> <p>The smile was clear in his voice. An unseen gaze lingers, then back to the page. “Oh! Did they write about my commentary on the recent fight?! I saw a few people writing things down, maybe they got in…”</p> <p> </p> <p>A gloved hand went up, scanning the paper alongside him. Eyes wandered across the page, then back to him. A soft hand brings itself to cradle his cheek.</p> <p> </p> <p>“... Your beard is coming in again. It’s all rough.” Their head tilted. His legs locked up. The voice below him giggled. The unsaid follow up was in his tone.</p> <p> </p> <p>Private Knight’s heart clenched. </p> <p> </p> <p>There was a lot of yelling that night.</p> <p> </p> <p>He tried his best to explain over dinner, one bottle of wine that was hidden away was uncorked. A small dinner was cooked. He really did try his best to make up time. But now the wine was on the floor, spilling onto the carpet.</p> <p> </p> <p>He tried. He really did. But he also needed to help others. </p> <p> </p> <p>The front door slammed.</p> <p> </p> <p>He stood there.</p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p>He didn’t know</p> <p> </p> <p>where</p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p align="center">to</p> <p> </p> <p align="right">go</p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p align="center">anymore.</p> <p> </p> <p>Where could he go? Where could he hide?</p> <p> </p> <p align="center">Outside, the flowers wilted in the cold.</p> <p> </p> <p align="right">He didn't want wine. He couldn’t have any. </p> <p><br /><br />A coat was grabbed, and out the door he went. The cold air blew against his face, brushing away fresh tears ever so softly. He shook his head. Heavy steps carried him to the next destination.</p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><img src="https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.freepnglogos.com%2Fuploads%2Fdivider-png%2Fdivider-page-dividers-page-mibba-19.png&f=1&nofb=1&ipt=253d2dc726cf32606a4ca6c85f3417930ede03a428dbebd273611fb107730b9d&ipo=images " alt="" width="473" height="63" align="middle" /></p><p>“Alright, there you go!”</p> <p> </p> <p>The barmaid came by, sliding a cold class of whiskey to him. He nodded, thanking her, sliding an extra gold piece her way. She took it, smiling in turn before heading off to help another customer. A warm weight from his left side soon came. He stiffened, but just for a moment as he accepted it, pushing back just a bit more.</p> <p> </p> <p>Laughter, like a jingle. </p> <p> </p> <p>“Do I believe my own eyes?! You, actually responding to my wits and charm?” He turned to face them, a barely seen smile just under the helmet. He nodded, and the other let out a squeal. A light nudged reminded them to quiet down, but that didn't stop them from continuing. </p> <p> </p> <p>“You really are almost the same when I first met you. A man of many secrets, hmm?”</p> <p> </p> <p>He hummed as well, taking a sip of his drink. The other sighed, propping his arms up on the counter, tilting his head to look at the man before him. </p> <p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> <p>“... I love you.”</p> <p> </p> <p>He paused, turning to face him.</p> <p> </p> <p>… He loved them too. </p> <p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> Are You Listening? Cheers roared through the tavern as the helmed musicians ended another one of their songs, mugs full of beer and ale lifted into the air as the chatter from the crowd started up again. The coming winter has brought nearly all the townsfolk into the (surprisingly spacious) tavern to escape the cold wind from the outside. The kitchens were abuzz with orders being called out, chefs and assistants running about. Checking on the stews, opening the ovens to monitor the roasts, and further preparation of the vegetables harvested just a while ago. Even a few familiar faces were running around, the Gastronomer waving them over and delegating a few other tasks. The main area was still filled with chatter, a few of the louder conversations being speckled around the room. Food was finally being passed around again, and the bar was absolutely packed. Groups of friends and even families all sitting together, in the warmth of the tavern… “Helloooo? Is anyone there? Folks, I think that this knight has lost his way in the mind!” Private Knight finally paused his scoping of the tavern to turn to look at the man seated next to him. Announcer Knight, along with Gun and Iron were all sitting to one side chatting. They were… all able to convince him to come out to the tavern. While the music was nice, the office was far more calm. And quiet. And that’s how he liked to keep it. Better for focusing on the more important things. Private Knight grumbled, shaking his head as he raised his glass to the gap in his helm once more, nursing the small amount of whiskey granted to him for the extra coins he slid to the barmaid. It was quite lucky the Magicist was also here, magic potions and mana to keep up with the constant cooling and chilling of the meat and vegetables… the ice cubes were a pleasant surprise too. Most would only expect the likes of King Pridemoor to have access to such a luxury. “I dunno friends, it sure looks like we have lost our dear detective up in the skies! Better call Propeller and his fleet. What do you think dear friends?” Announcer Knight brought his tiny microphone towards Iron, who was in the middle of singing along to a small tune Gun commented on. Iron whipped her head around, stammering as she was nudged on the spot. Her drink remained on the table, hands just in the process of reaching for it. “Dear listeners, I think we have lost Iron too! There’s gotta be some-” “Leave ‘er be, Radio Boy.” The rough voice spilled out of the dark helmet, making Announcer pause, turning back to face Private. “Thought you’d keep the mic at home.” “Well I’ll be, we got you back! What were you all silent about, buddy?” The nickname made him scoff, going for another sip of his glass. Announcer leaned in closer, eager for any kind of answer, anything to add to the story—- … Private Knight kept silent, still sipping from the glass. Announcer huffed. “Alright buddy, I’ll put the mic away. Off the record, just for you.” The knight propped the mic up against the bar, switching it off before resting his arms on the bar. “Now listen, I know you like to keep up appearances and all, but It’s been killing me inside—” “You can think like that?” Unseen eyebrows raise, as Private turners just a bit more in his chair. Announcer scoffed, and Private took the chance to flag down one of the barmaids again. Sliding a few gold coins her way, she took his glass. “Of course I can! Any dear listener needs to have something to listen to with emotion! Listening in to a deadpan deep voice like yours needs more added to it. And while they can’t exactly see you on the radio it would certainly help.” Private Knight paused. His entire body stilled. It was even as if his jacket, still slung over his shoulders has frozen in the slowly increasing warmth of the tavern. The Barmaid swung by again, sliding a new glass of cold whiskey into his hand, a comforting chill. A few moments dragged on, the band in the background starting up once again. “…. Why would I be on the radio?” Private took a quick sip from the glass, the drink burning as it trickled down. “No real use for it, lest for notifying residents of ramped thefts. Regardless, I’m not going on air.” The reaction from Announcer was… Private had to glance out of the gap in his helm, trying not to directly look at the man. He was quiet, a hand to his chin. Private sighed heavily, opting to stare directly in font of him, off to the glasses of alcohol on display. “… what’s on ‘yer mind? I can hear it from here.” “Well, I truly think more folks would be interested in seeing you more. You’ve got fans, you know.” Now he was bringing more attention to himself. Even Iron turned around to stare at the two, an unreadable expression under the helmet. Private’s face was growing warmer by the moment, so he grabbed the fresh drink, downing it. Throwing his head back just a bit, the glass was set a little harder than intended back onto the wooden bar. He groaned. “I don’t need fans, Radio Boy. I require people to follow the law as intended. And since men are men, they don’t listen to reason.” “Well what’s the fun in listening to reason?” Announcer leaned back, before quickly grabbing the bar before he tipped and fell over onto the floor. “You said yourself there was no reason to come out tonight. And look where you are…! Er… Detective Man! HAH!” His laughter filled the space, almost drowning out the band, loud guitar making Private deaf to the world around him. Private heaved in a huge sigh, waving over one last barmaid for some water. She nodded, turning around to tap some from a water barrel just past the bar. Announcer huffed, opting to lean against him. “You really should go out with us moreeee…” Private nudged the knight off of his shoulder, now holding onto the glass just a bit stronger. “Buddy, how much have you drank tonight?” Now he turned to face him fully, hand still firmly on the glass. “Here’s a lesson for you, drink some water before you get too out of hand and I drag you out of this building myself.” “I haven't drunk a DROP of alcohol, my good sir.” Announcer leaned back, a bit more carefully this time, shrugging his shoulders as he lifted his hands. “But you are just a cool glass of-” Announcer Knight suddenly had a fist grabbing the front of his shirt. Private Knight dropped the glass of water onto the bar table, swinging his legs around to slide off the stool. He started to make his way to the door, dragging Announcer along, stammering and sputtering. “H- hey hey HEY!! You left my mic behind, AND your drink- why- where are you tAKING ME?!” The front door of the tavern swung open, Private Knight dragging his friend just a bit further down the side of the building. After finally letting go, Announcer finally stumbled backward away from his friend. Brushing off his now very wrinkled shirt, he reached out to lift his hat, wiping his brow. His eyes rise to see Private reaching into his jacket. “WHAT?!” Announcer took a few more steps back, tripping over his own feet. His legs tangle with one another, making him fall to the cobblestone path below. One hand goes up, shielding him from the incoming arrow through his skull- “Listen I'm sorry for all that in there, really I'm sorry for all the-” A pause. No clink of a metal arrow into the crossbow. Announcer peeked past his outstretched hand, fearful confusion mixing in his soul. Private stared back at him. A cigar held in his hand. A cigar. He got scared by a cigar. “… Announcer, what did you think I was going to do?” The knight still on the ground let out a weak chuckle. “…. Sssssssomething that my listeners wouldn’t be very happy about?” Announcer let out a weak chuckle, as Private groaned. Of course… he should have figured. Reaching out towards him, he offered a hand. Announcer took it, pulling himself up to stand right in front of the tall detective. Well, just by a little. The detective made his way back to the wall, leaning against it as he pulled out a lighter, igniting the end. After a bit, Announcer joined by his side. “… So. Why did you drag me out here, apart from smoking? Even my listeners know I don’t smoke.” A pause, as he tilted his head. “… Was it the comments?” Private took the cigar from the gap in his helm, exhaling the smoke, allowing it to seep from the helmet into mystifying twirls and ribbons. The cigar still had a trail of it on one end, following as he waved his hand. “… You could say… that. And I came out here. To think.” “To… think?” “Yep.” Private took the cigar back to his mouth, breathing in deeply, and after a bit, exhaling again into the chilly sky. “Far too loud in there. Plus, no one can hear us. Better for both of us.” “What do you mean by that, Detective?” Announcer tilted his head, a hand going to rest under is chin. “What does go on in that head of yours, I wonder…?” A smile could now be heard in his voice as the man turned to lean against the other wall, allowing him to face Private. The detective sighed, shaking his head. “If you keep chatting with me, I can’t think straight Radio Boy.” A smile was now heard in his voice, smoke emanating once again from the metal masking his face. Announcer perked up. Raising his hand, about to ask, but that quickly came back down. The two men remained outside for a while, the loud music still heard from within, along with the cheers of the crowd. Eventually, after the cigar was (surprisingly quickly) finished and tossed, the detective spoke once more. “Alright. I’ve decided.” He stepped in front of Announcer. The radio host looked slightly up, trying to meet the unseen eyes of the other man. “I’ve… determined that your comments are. Acceptable.” He turned away to look down the street. Announcer followed his gaze, but when the same old street stared back at them… he looked back at the other. “I only. Need you to answer me… this.” Private Knight coughed, bringing his hand up to where his mouth was. He leaned back against the tavern wall, looking down at Announcer Knight. “Where are you wanting to go with this.” “What do you mean?” Private huffed. Internally, he thanked himself for having a helmet that covered so much of his face. “What I mean, is what do you see us as? Because from what I can see, you want that to change. So tell me.” Private Knight suddenly felt his helmet lift a bit. Announcer pressed the faceplate of their mask up against his lips, He stared in shock, his face still hidden under the helm turning and burning a bright red. Announcer stares for a moment, hands still on the sides of his helmet. He stared. The other stared back. Announcer started to pull away, but Private places his own over his. Then, he chuckled. Outside in the cold, it was far more calm than in the tavern. And quiet. And that’s how he liked to keep it. Better for focusing on the more important things.