Corrupted Dreams

Chess and Whiskey

When I woke up in the morning, the imprint from last night's alcohol was apparent in my skull. Though, it was a small price to pay considering the dense ball in my chest was relatively lighter. Yesterday just felt like some distant nightmare, and one almost as bad as last night's dream was. I rubbed my eyes, trying to dismiss some of the images that were scarred there.

Making my way to breakfast the cafeteria was relatively empty considering how early in the morning it was. Setanta was in there though, a full plate of food in front of him as he stared off at nothing. It seemed I wasn't the only one left with a lot to think about. I sat down across from him, my own food and a large mug of coffee in hand. His eyes lit up on me. "Oh, so you managed to make it out of bed. I'm shocked. I thought I wouldn't see you til noon."

"Well, I'll admit, I'm not in the best of shape, but I'm not gonna let a little alcohol slow me down."

"Hm, you finally going to share why it was that you were drowning yourself in whiskey?"

"Just having a bad day was all. I think it started when some lunatic tackled me off a coach. You never apologized for that, by the way."

"And you kicked me in the face, I think that was revenge enough. How about we both just call it even?"

Smiling down into my cup, I muttered, "I suppose that's fair," then took a drink of the bitter liquid. It was noticeably darker than Setanta's coffee flavored cream.

"But I've got another question. Where were you at dinner yesterday?"

"Fell asleep. I was tired, and reading in bed has a tendency to put me to sleep at times."

"Also, what's that vial you carry around?"

Suddenly the small bottle had a burning prescance as it sat in my pocket. "Setanta, I'd appreciate it if you could stop interrogating me during breakfast." He let the subject go with my words, but I decided to give him something. Withholding information would just feed his curiosity more. "It's just something I made. Nothing important, I simply like to keep in practice, so I make things. I carry it around because it's fun to fiddle with, is all."

"And that's the only reason?" His eyes narrowed as if they were physically wring out the last information I'd give him.

"Yes. What other reason would there be?" I took a sip of my hot drink.

Setanta mimicked me, shugging. "I don't know, just thought I would ask." That subject of conversations finished with his words. Our talk became light hearted, and deprived of the anxieties of yesterday. Why the turmoil of yesterday hit me so hard is still somewhat of a mystery to me, but anything Emiya related left me anxious, and I wanted away from all of it. But I was definitely feeling better today, and the conversation with Setanta soothed me even more.

Finishing off my last bite of food, the conversation between drew to a close. I thought back to the book I'd been reading yesterday. Before Shirou showed up, I'd actually been at a good part, and decided that's how I'd spend my morning.

Standing up, Setanta lifted his eyes with me. "Leaving already?"

"There's something I'd like to go do. What? Do you want me to stay?"

"No, you're fine, go if you'd like." Shrugging nonchalantly, there was a far off look in his eyes. I would have stayed and talked, but I could read the look in his irises. He needed a bit alone with his thoughts during the slow morning. When I turned to go, I was instantly grateful for the decision. Shirou was walking up to the table as I left it, eyes perking up as he saw me. All I allowed for greeting was a nod of acknowledgement before I was off.

Grabbing the book from my room, I heard the ringing of piano keys through one of Chaldea's extensive halls. Walking into a room, Amadeus was there, long fingers stroking the piano keys as they moved swiftly over the instrument. The music was different from his typical classic, bouncy, composition; this a much more chaotic and melancholy. Sitting down in the window seal, I waited patiently for his piece to come to its close, and before it did Amadeus never even cast me a glance. The last ring of the piano echoed through the bare room in a dramatic fashion. The other caster finally looked at me. "Come for another private concert while you read?" He said it in fake exasperation, as if it were somehow a burden to play for me.