(Untitled)

[naiad_burial]

It doesn't look like the bar in Nibelheim. The lights are dim, but the diffused golden glow ebbs against her warm hazel eyes, reflecting from polished mahogany table tops. They are frequently used, wiped down, worn and care for, unlike the others. Lashes half-lidded from sleep and squinting, the woman only imagines how a child might appear, waking

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[dean_o_dell]

Cyrus is drinking his coffee and reading a book when he sees the woman in the rather stunning clothing catches his eye. She looks confused.

"Hello?"

[naiad_burial]

She wouldn't have believed that she was seen, had the note not been directed to her with the company of eye contact. Quite readily, she takes the greeting as an invitation and makes her way towards the stranger's table. She even goes so far as to seat herself, albeit she does not make herself so comfortable to be presumptuous.

"Hello." Lucrecia replied pleasantly. "What are you reading?"

The question of curiosity comes before her courtesy, introduction-wise. It's not as if the after life changed her, but it was as innocent a question as a name.

[dean_o_dell]

He's a bit surprised that she just sat. People here tend not to be quite so forward, usually. "A book on two boxers. It's something of an interest."

[naiad_burial]

It's hard to hold on to certain inhibitions when one believes that they've finally, finally, passed on. And Lucrecia was never exactly timid. She lingers a little bit longer.

"Boxers...Boxing? It's a sport isn't it?" She's never played or watched any of them, really. "Do you know how to box?"

[mycursedface]

Medusa had been spinning wool. Red, as it happens, from her seat on the table. She's wearing jeans, and bare feet, with her black hair in slender braids. A backless blouse, red and gold, and bangles on her wrists and ankles.

Nothing matches the wire-framed glasses she's wearing.

Also, tumbled through that amazing hair of hers are living snakes. Black and slender, matching her braids.

The wings, though, large and gold, are the most noticable thing about her, even when she glances over and says in a voice a little too clear and haunting to be human,

"Not exactly."

[naiad_burial]

The voice turns her towards the speaker, and inevitably, she stares. Not long enough to gawk-- the gaze softens to some semblance of polite eye contact had the other not been otherwise preoccupied with her work.

"Excuse me," Lucrecia can't help but to inquire, even if she shouldn't, or should have, known. "Are you an angel?"

[mycursedface]

"No, I am not."

[naiad_burial]

"Oh." At a loss, Lucrecia touches her lips, trying to refrain from bothering the being that was neither human nor angel anymore than necessary.

[dontloselight]

Cloud had simply been passing by, on his way to get something to eat while he was on his break from another hard day's work of clearing areas of debris when a word caught his attention.

It is one single word he'd heard before from a friend of his - well, someone who might have been a friend of his, had he remembered any of his past.

Nibelheim.

He pauses right there, to her left, head cast down. And then he looks up, eyes studying her briefly.

"...you said Nibelheim."

[naiad_burial]

Her thoughts were loud enough to be heard. The boy had been so quiet that she had not heard him approach, or stop so close, until he actually speaks.

"So I did," Lucrecia doesn't argue. She turns so that she can face him, gathering her long snowy shawl into casually crossed arms. Prompts are often the beginnings of conversation. "It's an important place." As well as a somber one, a troubled one, a blissful and a tragic one.

"Are you from Nibelheim?" She doesn't know him, has never seen him in the country town. But all the same, he is more familiar than the bar itself.

[dontloselight]

"I don't ... know," he admits, and it is the truth if anything. "But I've heard of it. It does seem to be a place of importance."

Perhaps, even a place of answers.

[naiad_burial]

In a way, not knowing was just as intriguing as any other answer. It simply meant that it would have to be found.

"Very important," the woman reaffirms, accompanied by a nod. Years ago, decades ago really, she would not have wanted to talk of the place or have anything to do with it anymore. Now it was just a little bit different.

Pushing away or subduing the past would not change it.

"What have you heard of it? Could you tell me?" She wonders, going on. She casts her gaze toward the bar before back again, the notion of sitting them down and treating the young man to a drink through her mind. It was the least she could do for keeping him.