The bell moves, and the people of Thireien get up from their beds, the children, hungry for knowledge and itching for mischief are enthusiastic to meet their friends at school.
The adults, wearing their arca, pray to their saviour.
“I pray for your blessings, I pray for your patience, for even if we live in borrowed time, this paradise welcomes us and provides us with a home, I pray for your benevolence, the same that you have everyday with us, I pray for your strength, the strength to overcome the trials of tomorrow, I pray for you, oh saviour.”
It is ritual to touch their arca while praying, their most precious gift, they hold it between the palms of their hands when reciting their morning prayers, for some it is a piece of clothing or a book.
For others it’s a necklace, a golden necklace.
The necklace’s owner left his house humming a calming song, and it wasn’t until Cheshire left the street of his childhood, Falcate street, that he stopped touching his necklace with his fingers.
His mouth widened in the shape of a smile, tipping his hat when people waved at him, the bartender of deshires was a bit famous on the area, just a bit, just a tiny little bit.
He left Lorate street and entered Trullate, the aroma in the air taking him prisoner, though there was something different.
A smell of chocolate and butter was the perpetrator, a horrible crime to take prisoner the hearts of the people by attacking their stomachs, how devious!
A psychological ambush, one that tortures the minds of those that dared set foot on Trullate street, but Cheshire was a business man! A man of sales!
He won’t give in, he is the propietary of deshires! Cheshire won’t-
“That will be 5 zinchs”
His stomach was full, that delicacy that they were selling was sublime, the texture of the chocolate fully covering the spongy bread while retaining part of its original flavour, a mixture that complemented each other.
But…
Even if his stomach had won, his heart, his soul! And more importantly, his wallet!
They weren’t full, at all.
Thus the proud owner of deshires, ended up sulking on a corner in Trullate street.
———
A large man with pronounced muscles and a back bigger than some people, wakes up with the sounds of the bells, then he prays, to her saviour, while holding his axe between the palms of his hands.
Cyprus leaves his house in Aristate street with a big, wide smile on his face and reaches Petiole street without breaking a sweat, most people would feel threatening to see someone, more beast than man, with a giant axe with them, running through the streets.
Yet no one is scared of Cyprus.
The giant, touching his arca in the shape of an axe, reassures himself and his smile widens even more.
Without breaking a sweat, he arrives at the door of deshires, though the pub is closed.
“Have you seen Cheshire this first?”
“Hey, do you know where Cheshire is?”
“Has he visited you today?”
He asked questions to the owners of every restaurant, playroom and theater.
Yet no one had seen his friend, his smile vanished a little, but he had to continue smiling, because if he stopped then-
‘Don’t think, don’t get worried.’
Right now, Cyprus had to find his friend, desperation won’t help him find Cheshire faster.
‘Cheshire is smart, he has always been smart.’
He could make a scared expression when he arrived at his house, on sixth, but it was first now.
Cyprus in first had to smile, the man who made all the jokes, the bodyguard of deshires, the one who protected Cheshire’s and Maine’s home.
Since long ago that had been Cyprus’ purpose.
Because, if he couldn’t protect his friends, then what the hell was the purpose of this damn ax-!
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He relaxed.
Cheshire was sitting on a corner of Trullate street, looking at his wallet with an empty expression on his eyes.
A sudden urge to make him pay double for every piece of future deshires’ furniture crossed Cyprus’ mind for a moment.
With a tired sigh, Cyprus approached Cheshire and pat his back, strongly.
“It’s time to open, pathetic bartender.”
“The only pathetic thing here is your fashion sense.”
“That’s funny coming from the guy sulking in the middle of the street.”
“I’m not sulking! I’m just…pondering, yes.”
“Just because you use smart words, doesn’t mean you are smart, Cheshire.”
They started to argue and discuss with each other, their give and take occupying their minds until they reached Petiole street.
Cyprus didn’t force his smile, he always had fun when he was speaking with Cheshire, and he knew that Cheshire felt the same.
At long last, today began to feel again as paradise.
———
A woman joined her hands to pray when the bells started to sound through Thireien, a red metallic cilinder between his palms, she started to prepare herself for work.
She lives in Cordate street, her clothes are plain and uninteresting, a baige shirt with blue pants, her hair, is brown and in the shape of a ponytail, she doesn’t wear a uniform like her neighbours, every uniform she has is in her workplace.
She is a waitress, not in a restaurant, but in a pub, deshires, Cheshire has her chained there with the power of money.
She could quit her job, even if it would restrain her more, she could-
‘Promise me.’
Memories never make the present easier.
Maine sighs tiredly.
‘Another day in paradise.’
Before arriving at deshires though, Maine always goes straight, reaching the end of Cordate street and sets foot on the most sacred street in all of Thireien.
Axil street.
If Petiole street, with all kinds of entertainment is called the heart of Thireien for the amount of people that traverse it, Axil street is the soul of the city, the mind of paradise, the residence of god.
Altars, a temple and a church, that was without taking into account some schools and universities, the only ones in the city that weren’t part of Spellate street.
She observes the people traversing the street, young students and members of the clergy walking slowly with a serene look on their faces.
Maine goes straight to the church, maintaining a blank expression, emotions are a part of one’s heart, not one’s soul.
She, without thinking about it, sits next to Neva, a priest of the church.
She has white hair and a yellow robe with black and white details, if she noticed Maine sitting next to her, her face doesn’t show it at all.
They observe as the bishop enters the chapel, and begins to tell the story of their saviour.
“She braved in battle with faith only.”
Neva raises her hands.
“When the land turned against us, she was the one who bled for us to have a paradise, rising above desperation.”
She grabs a piece of paper she had under her right arm.
“This is our paradise, one where we are waiting for her return.”
She leaves the paper on the bench
After the sermon they don’t share words, not farewells, not even a nod.
They are strangers.
They will continue acting like it.
The piece of paper is no longer on the bench, Maine speculates that Neva has already picked it up without her noticing it.
‘Tomorrow uh?’
The paper had written on it, “today, oh Maine, on radiant rubies, our wealth is surviving”, nothing more.
It was just that.
Just, “today, oh Maine, on radiant rubies, our wealth is surviving”.
Nothing more.
She exited the church with no expression, no anger, no happiness, no sadness, nothing, she was in sacred land, Maine had to remain respectful.
Maine made her way to Petiole street, touching her arca to reassure herself, she fought back the urge of a smile.
Though her quasi smile turned into a scowl when he discovered that the door of deshires, the pub that was supposed to be open by now was still closed, and a certain pair of idiots were still, slowly, really slowly, slower than in Axis street, walking to the pub.
A vein on her head bursted.
As if this situation had repeated itself a thousand more times, Cheshire suddenly shouted.
“Blue manouver, soldier!”
“Yes, captain!”
The duo of dumb and dumber ran away in opposite directions from their waitress.
Just another day in paradise.
———
After a timeslot of apologies from Cheshire and the promise of a payed free day, the anger-o-meter of Maine lowers from “Say your last words” to “One wrong move and I’ll end you”.
He even let her leave early, leaving Cheshire alone to clean the bar.
With no one there to keep him company, the only sound in the pub was the ticking of Cheshire’s silver pocket watch.
Tick, tack, tick.
In the silence, in the darkness, Cheshire grabs his necklace, he doesn’t care that it takes more time to clean the whole place.
Tick, tack, tick.
Cheshire listens to his pocket watch, not letting his mind wander.
Tick, tack, tick.
Laugh, Cheshire, laugh.
He only thinks of the ticks.
Tick, tack, tick.
Smile, Cheshire, smile.
Only the watch, only it exists.
Tick, tack, tick.
Survive, Cheshire, survive.
Tick, tack, tick.
The sound of the clock.
The clicks and the ticks, the whiteness and the greyness of the model, the chain that is a part of the clock, the mechanism, the gears, clicking, rotating, only the clock, just the watch exists, for what other things could exist? Not for Cheshire, not for him, only this is part of reality, this not broken watch, this extremely happy memoir, this part of Cheshire, the part that always moves and works and smiles and jokes and cleans and speaks and prays and-
Thump!
“…?”
A noise outside the pub.
In Petriole street no one else hears it, it is the heart of Thireien after all, there is too much noise for anyone to hear it.
Cheshire exits the pub and discovers a hole on the back of the pub that wasn’t there in the first place, he tries to see the inside of the hole, and confused he says.
“A ball?”
