closed to; sunisa location; the sapphire time; flashback (cancer 997?)
Summer swelters into night, sweat lining chilled cabinets from behind the bar counter, beading the throat of each iced drink. Saturn emerges from some darkened corridor, a shawl that is more woolen blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A weak constitution, he contemplates, smile tinged in deprecation.
Above his sternum hunger begins as an incision; some otherworldly poison that runs in current to the beat of his heart- unfurls with each pulse of blood, spreads to every porous nerve.
He should go home. Slide shut the doors that lead to his quarters and swathe himself in winter blankets. Cocoon himself like a thing waiting metamorphosis. By the time the moon has waxed and the week is past, this bitter cold will have abated. This hunger will have waned. Already, it’s more bearable than it was yestereve.
Still.
A little longer. His gaze draws again to the steady hum of sound from the lounge. How unreasonable, that at his weakest he should least desire rest. Company will do him no good. But he can humour himself.
Criminals and tycoons mingle in the opulent expanse of the Sapphire’s main lounge. Out of the corner of an eye Saturn spots an elaborate haori-himo- then the colours of some Tsuki branch family, exhibited openly in this den of thieves. Pockets of irregularity materialize from time to time; the shoal of thieves and businessmen interrupted by outsiders wearing faltering steps and darting eyes. Irresolution is a weakness, and a tell. A cloaked and harried figure with hands clutching some unmarked correspondence, a noble with uneasy gait, knuckles whitened and arms folded over his chest- a dark-haired soldier, spine unbent and fingers elegantly tapered around a glass. Somehow, something different.
“It’s a good night for drinking.” The curve of his mouth could be a half-smile, could be a jest. “They say it’s better luck to drink with company.”