Artificial Wings Ch.02 For Everyone Who Ever Lost

It surprised Alice how closely all the bodies in the club could be pressed. She managed to store her belongings in a conveniently supplied locker and tucked the key into her pocket, keeping only the notebook on her person.

The music playing in the club, though facilitated by amplification, was not the sort most commonly found in such a setting. It had no deeply vibrating bass or screaming voices, but rather it possessed rhythm and melody. It was balanced, pleasant. From what she could make out, the sound of a low-playing violin set much of the motion of the piece.

Alice squeezed her way through the throng and set herself at the circular bar in the middle. Two figures milled about the center, providing service to those who sat. When it came her turn, she asked for a simple, refreshing drink that contained no alcohol.

Brushing the limp strands of blonde hair out of her face, she gave a sigh of relief and wondered if she'd really find the boy, Aya, here at all. It was crowded and loud with voices of music and people. As she remembered it, he was shy when it was only she there. She took a quick sip of the cool, sweet drink—taste of oranges and Calpis, slight fizziness of soda.

When the piece ended, there was a pause before a pre-recorded something began playing over the speakers, signaling a break of some sort. Four more sat at the central island, whom she could only assume were the musicians. Two took their drinks and left quickly, one cradling a violin and bow in one arm, to disappear up a tightly winding flight of stairs to a higher room. The two who stayed seemed unfazed by the noise and the crowd, one with blank bluish-green eyes stared at a nondescript location on the opposite wall, the other darker but the same.

A fifth came forward and usurped the seat next to her, breathing a heavy sigh of exhaustion or relief, she couldn't tell. Bright hair crowned him in an array of different colors, calico and white. A like tail dusted the floor beneath him as he hailed the bartender.

She looked over at him and smiled. His countenance was pleasant, smiling. At second glance, she spotted feline ears laid back within his mane—a cat demon, or at least half.

"Were you one of those performing just now?" she asked him over the noise.

The cat-boy downed an amber-colored drink, leaving the stained ice clinking pleasantly in the glass. "I guess you could say that," he half-laughed the end of the phrase, then returned the gaze set on him. "Soundboard," he claimed, raising his hand in a gesture of ownership. He turned back to the bar and called out a request for a refill.

He was quite charming, she thought and giggled quietly. "May I ask your name?" she implored.

The cat was given his second drink and he turned back to her. "Oshima. Oshima Ikeda." He held out his hand in a very Western greeting, smiling kindly in her direction.

"Kohaku Alice," she responded, taking the proffered hand and giving a broad smile in return. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he laughed. This Ikeda seemed prone to laughter, a trait all too rare and welcome. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you before." He withdrew his hand.

She reclaimed hers also and laughed in a shy manner. "Caught!" She smiled. "I'm a transfer graduate student at the university." There was a pause between them for a moment. Hesitant. "And you?"

Another song started playing over the sea of voices.

"A student also; sound and technology." He gestured in the direction he came from with a nod of his head. "What are you? Singer? Writer?" Kitten-like fascination in his eyes as he rested his head on his fist.

Alice shook her head and made a negative sound in the back of her throat. "No," she sounded slightly wistful. "I'm a dancer." At this, Ikeda laughed lightly. She turned to him and made a face. "What?"

"Nothing," he replied, brushing a hank of hair out of his eyes. "It's just that it's my minor." He appeared happily drunk at the moment, bubbly with laughter for some reason or another and seemingly couldn't stop. Alice could smell the whiskey from the glass now that she paid attention to it.

And she'd forgotten why she didn't drink… Ah! Weren't reminders good for a person?

She returned the laughter pleasantly enough. "Hey, before you're pasted three sheets to the wind, do you happen to know a boy named Aya? I have something of his I want to return."

At the mention of the name, the cat managed a straight face and actually gave her a look of wonder. "He's… He's the violinist." How would she know him? "What would you have of his?" Was she another 'admirer'? Aya had had plenty of those in the past, none of them any better than the trouble they brought.

She wasn't about to meet his critical gaze without a strong front of her own. There was no need to make him suspicious of her motives. "This morning in an English class, I met him. He helped me to know where the class was in the term. Unfortunately, he dropped this." Alice held out the notebook for inspection. "I just wanted to return it. The address for this place fell out when I picked it up, but other than that, I haven't looked inside." No, that would have been far too rude. What if it was a personal journal? She certainly wouldn't want anyone going through her things, which had unfortunately happened all too often in her own high school years.

He took the book and looked it over, never opening it, but seemingly inspecting it for something counterfeit, as if that'd been an occurrence before. Finding it to be without flaw, he handed it back, his well-manicured claws gently brushing the binding as it passed from his hand and an approving mellow-grin crossed his face.

"I can help you give it to him if you want to return it that badly. It's just a notebook he uses as a planner or something, I think," he said before he downed his last shot of whiskey and stood from his bar seat, still surprisingly steady on his legs.

Somewhat caught off guard, she simply turned on the stool and watched him walk for a moment before getting up and following, noting that he was leading her toward the same narrow, tightly winding staircase that she'd seen the rest of the supposed 'group' disappear up.

At the top, hidden from view of the crowd below by an aperture in the ceiling, was a small platform met by a door. The cat kindly opened the portal and allowed her ingress to the great cavern of a room within where the noise of the level below them seemed very far away indeed.

Like those of most buildings, this was only the tenth or twelfth story, and only one room of many that might be on the same floor. It was unusually large and the ceiling high, making the room seem all the more cave-like. It looked as if it had once been a studio flat, molding around the edges of the ceiling and the tops of the walls. However, it had been converted into a glorified practice and storage room. Boxes sat in corners, a few sheets thrown haphazardly over them in several areas. The far wall was completely stacked with containers and sported a variety of instrument cases perched against it, including a delicate violin case. The floor had since been carpeted with some manner of fiber that had long ago, it appeared, fused with the concrete floor beneath it, barely thick enough in some areas to still be called carpet. A couch, rather nice compared to the surroundings, sat a few metres off the adjacent wall looking out toward the windows that had replaced the outermost wall, framing a grey, rain-soaked city. Little else appeared to occupy the room besides a few other less-shabby furnishings and the few people reclining within it.

On the couch near the center of the room sat two figures, one winged and the other visible only by the pale appendage hanging over the edge of the cushion. The winged one appeared to be typing something on the cell-phone in his hand, but the smaller, less noticeable one seemed to be asleep, though how in this setting Alice couldn't imagine.

She paced forward when prompted gently, assured that it was fine despite the dreary, daunting atmosphere.

Approaching the two, she made short mental notes of the silent strangers.

The first: Golden skin, eyes, and feathers. Platinum hair. Concealed intelligence. Strong. Focused. Preoccupied. Tame. Harmless.

But the second… Pale. Silver-white fur on dark leather. Closed eyes. Large, yet delicate paws. Wolf. Promise of strength. Nobility. Slumber. Wild. Retreating…

Retreating? Why had that word come to mind? She didn't know.

The entrance door to the room closed with a quiet, but resounding click, amplified by the cavernous walls, announcing that her escort had left. Quiet though it was, the sound had been enough to wake the resting creature on the sofa.

Blue-grey, no, silver eyes. Soft flutter of lashes.

She was still a few paces away from the couch when the wolf resumed the form of a delicate person, androgynous and undeniably beautiful. Slender wrists and flowing appendages made up the creature as he moved in a languid stretch and reached toward a short, but heavy glass of something deep-crimson in color. Lips met crystal and a small sip was taken before those silver eyes turned in her direction.

Long silver hair. Deep-set features. Intensity. Fear…

Fear? Again with the strange, purely intuitive observations on her part. But… fear of what?

That question was answered when the Pale Creature turned to the Golden One and seemed to whisper something to him, claiming his attention and, she suspected, his protection.

After much gathering of courage, she found her voice and managed to eke out a single word: "Aya?" Quiet, but enough, she knew, for the wolf to hear her. If this was indeed the same person who'd assisted her earlier today, he would recognize the notebook she held in her hand.

The white-haired wolf turned back to face her, eyes widened with a faint surprise. This girl… How did she discover his name? Oh, yes, the one from the class who'd asked him for help, the kind one.

But despite the recognition, he was still terrified. Since the catastrophe last year, he'd had… trouble interacting with others. He was just so painfully shy, almost to the point of cowardice, and he knew it. And it wasn't as if he didn't try to overcome the fear, it was that very few people gave him the time to adjust.

He took a deep breath and reassumed his animal form, sliding off the couch effortlessly. Why was she here? Curiosity drove his actions from there.

Adonis, the golden eagle whom he'd been sitting beside, stared after him. Aya never approached a stranger willingly. Of course, he hadn't heard Aya's name called; it had only been loud enough for the wolf's ears, and his alone.

Aya padded up to her, close enough that he could look straight up and be gazing directly at her face. She stood unflinchingly at his closeness and, in fact, held out her hand in entreaty. A quiet whine escaped his throat as he placed the side of his muzzle in her offered palm.

Scent… Touch… First steps in a positive direction.

Adonis just sat back in wonder. This was a rare occurrence to say the least. Good, but incredibly unexpected. He almost laughed aloud, but turned back to his cell-phone instead, not wanting to ruin what relationship that could be budding. Aya could take care of himself.

She bent down to meet his eyes, kneeling before him, still caressing the soft fur on his face. A feeling of silent laughter passed through her. He was far gentler than he seemed from across the room, and sweeter, too. Silver eyes that had seemed cold now appeared warm and kind. Still, there was that underlying hint of fear, the same she'd encountered earlier today.

There was no doubt in her now that this wasn't the same person. His hair had changed color, but he still looked the same, at least in face. Some demons had hair that changed color at random intervals, so perhaps he was one of those kinds. Her own coloring changed with the seasons, so who was she to judge?

She withdrew her hand and offered the book to him. "I found this after you left today," she said as the wolf sniffed at the binding. "I thought you might like it back."

Aya took the notebook in his teeth and padded off to the other side of the room. There he reassumed his human-like form and inspected the book, running his hands over it first, then leafing through its contents.

He was taller than she'd thought, she mused as he stood there, looking through the book, as if for damages or unexpected additions. In a very nonchalant way, he brushed a lock of silver hair behind his ear, which was hidden by even more argent tresses. His skin was as pale as the fur on his wolfish body had been, perhaps paler, and she wondered if he had an aversion to sunlight for one reason or another. After all, he was even fairer than her, and she had a slight skin allergy to UV rays. The simple uniform of black that hung from him made him seem all the fairer. The shirt he wore was collared and the sleeves only of three-quarter length, allowing ample movement for his chording hand and wrist to move, she suspected.

She rose from her semi-recumbent position and waited for a moment, turning her thoughts to the bird sitting not far from her. He seemed… familiar in a way. When she was younger, she had a friend, whom she affectionately called Danni, short for Adonis. This person had the same platinum-blonde hair and dark skin, but he was missing the glasses and the somewhat gawky personality from what she could see. If this were the same person, his wings were larger and more darkly colored with age and maturity.

"Danni?" she said, more curiosity than question. She was surprised when the head of the golden bird turned in her direction and gave her mild scrutiny.

He started, "How—?"

"You don't remember me, do you?" she said, smiling at him. Yep. It was Danni. No mistaking that look of confusion: his brow quirked in the same way it always did, just up to the left. "It's Alice. Long time, no see, huh?" She sized him up for a moment. "You've grown! But I guess five years will do that to a person."

She watched as he smiled in astonishment for a moment, knowing that she'd changed quite a few qualities herself in the last five years, also. Her hair. Clothing… She was definitely more outgoing than she had been.

He stood, closed and shoved his phone in his pocket, then walked the few strides over to her, taking her in for all she'd changed. His Alice had cut and colored her hair and was wearing an interesting combination of tight black capris and an off-shoulder pink top. Other than the clothing and cosmetic adjustments, she really hadn't changed much. She was still as lean as ever, and he had the feeling that she could still wipe the floor with him if she so chose.

He managed an amazed smile before he spoke and picked her up in a close hug. "Where in the world have you been?"

The laughter of the evident reunion drew Aya's attention to their location. He watched curiously as his friend lifted the smaller girl into the air and swung her around, her legs bending at the knees as she held tightly around Adonis' neck. If Danni could trust her, he supposed that he could as well. Besides, she'd shown him kindness, and she wasn't forceful, which he appreciated all the more. He gave one of his own rare smiles to the situation and bent down to pick up the violin.

A brief run of notes interrupted their laughter as Aya motioned something to Adonis, making signs with his hands in the place of speech. None of them were familiar to Alice.

Danni turned back to Alice. "He asked me to thank you for returning the notebook."

She gave him a puzzled look and turned her gaze to the young wolf. "What happened to your voice?" She refused to ask the question to Danni when the person who was the subject of her query was right in the room.

Again, he made a few gestures, all resembling sign language in some form, and looked at Danni for a translation, cradling the instrument in one arm like some sort of child.

Adonis laughed in a good-natured manner and sat himself back down on the couch with a muted thud. "He sang earlier tonight when the owner requested it and lost his voice. Tends to happen to syryns quite a bit, I'm told," he said, looking to Alice and back to Aya.

This, although it explained why he had no voice, left her with more questions than it answered. "What's a syryn?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She'd never heard of a syryn before, even from her father, who was a purebred demon and much older than any of his peers gave him credit for.

"Uh…" Adonis was at a loss for words when it came to describing the symptoms, no, conditions of being a syryn. After all, he wasn't one, and it was difficult to describe unless it was experienced first-hand. "I'll let Aya explain that to you." He stood and stretched his arms upward, extending his wings in a like manner. "In the meantime," he continued, picking up the glass that had obviously been his since it was empty, "I'm gonna get another drink."

Aya seemed almost immediately distressed and opened his mouth as if to protest, a high-pitched, hoarse cry escaping his throat instead of a voice. At once he clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent another such sound from coming emerging.

Danni waved a hand over his shoulder dismissively. "You'll be fine," was all he said before the door closed behind him.

Aya looked back to the girl he'd been left in the room alone with, hand still on his face, then looked back to where he'd tossed the notebook next to the violin case. He fished hastily for the pencil he knew was always in there and scrawled something down on the page he'd opened the book to. This sort of situation was precisely why he had the book in the first place.

Alice watched somewhat anxiously as he looked around in a rush, then dug through a section of the case to extract something and begin writing in the very journal she'd restored to him. It wasn't as though he was frightening, but he exuded a presence of sorts that was meant to be impressive, meant to be a bit off-putting. He was a wolf, and wolves were predators; never mind the way he'd acted just a moment ago. A few seconds later, he set the book, open, on the table and backed off, cradling the body of the violin with one arm and holding onto the neck across his chest with the other, as if it were some sort of armor.

She sat down and began reading.

Please forgive me, it read at first. Forgive? That was a strange thing to ask right off. I am not the best at words or with people. She could tell that when she first met him. If she'd ever met anyone quite that shy, she didn't remember. 'Syryn' means voice in my language. We are mute from birth until our voices are released, then they are supposed to be beautiful. Released? What releases them? She did remember how his voice had lingered in the air when he'd given his name, though. When a newborn syryn taxes their voice too much, my condition is what happens. She actually looked up and smiled at him, giving a gentle laugh. He'd settled down on the floor and laid his arms on the table, resting his head atop them and gazing at the opposite wall as she read. The violin rested along with the bow in his lap. She got the distinct impression that he would have his ears laid back if he were in his animal form at the moment. Looking back to the book, she found that that was where he'd ended.

"What do you mean by a syryn's voice being released?" she asked.

He made to start signing at her, but stopped himself, reminded by the fact that she didn't understand it, and reached out for the book.

When the book met between both of their hands, she felt a small jolt of something akin to electricity pass over the pages and through her fingers, almost making her drop the journal. Aya acted as if nothing had transpired, but the feeling lingered with her, a faint tingling sensation running up and down her arm. He quickly finished what he'd been writing and placed the book back on the table for her to retrieve, as if having sensed her unease at their last indirect contact.

A syryn's voice is released by an event of great emotion. Anything driven to the extreme of a particular feeling, but it's different for each one. Extreme emotion, she thought. The two greatest, Love and Hate, came to mind first. She wanted to ask, but thought it might be rude to inquire as to what might have caused his.

Again, as if sensing her thoughts, he beckoned for the book back and hesitantly wrote the next phrase down inside.

Turning the notebook over, he pushed it towards her once more, lifting his hand before hers touched it.

She didn't understand completely why he turned the journal over since he hadn't done so yet in their half-silent conversation. But when she turned the book over, she was met with a revelation that made it make sense.

My mate was killed last year, was all it read. Very short, unadorned, but the message was put there so very clearly that it could not be misunderstood.

Sorrow, Loss, Pain… Those were the emotions that 'released' his voice, all of them coming together under the guise of mourning. She looked up to meet the eyes that had shifted their gaze to her.

"I… think I understand," she said slowly, hesitant just as he had been to write of his loss. Love, Devotion, Protection... An anguish deeper than physical pain could fathom... An anguish at the memory that he'd not been there to protect his mate.

All of a sudden, he stood and turned toward the great windows, positioning the violin between his chin and shoulder. Impulse had driven the action, but for just a moment, he stood perfectly still, bow at his side and instrument at the ready. Within that moment, all time seemed to condense and stand as still as he was, just waiting for the right stimulus to start again. He brought the bow up to the strings and pulled.

An old-sounding melody was wrenched from the guts of the violin, low and distant and mournful—a Gypsy melody. She'd heard many of these while in America, especially in San Francisco with all its colorful population, but none like this. None so somber that it almost sounded as if the instrument itself were crying...

The last parting notes drifted from the violin as Adonis reentered with drink in tow, bringing also with him the noise and chaos of the world below them when he opened the door. He looked on with some interest at the fact that Aya stood not ten feet from the girl and that she'd taken up residence on the battered old couch.

Aya cradled the violin in one arm and held the bow by a finger, signing something to Danni again that she couldn't really understand. When a chuckle escaped the bird demon, she took it as a good sign.

"He likes your company," he translated. "Says you're patient." He dropped himself down on the other side of the couch, leaving an empty space in the middle between himself and Alice. Quite promptly, though, he snatched the notebook out of Alice's hands and started flipping the pages. "So, what'd you talk about?" he asked.

All at once, Aya was in front of Danni, gently removing the notebook from his hands and calmly signing something to him. Alice wasn't sure how he'd gotten there so quickly. She hadn't even seen him move; he was just… There.

He was finally close enough for her to see the finer details of his face, and especially his eyes. They truly were silver, shining with a luminescence even in the dim evening light and the distant glow overhead within the room. When he wasn't so nervous, she mused, he was quite charming.

Her attention was drawn back to Danni, who seemed to be pouting now, evidently at having been told off by Aya and not allowed to look in the notebook. Hands that ended in delicate claws parted his bangs and moved to cradle the bird's cheek, almost lovingly, and force eyes upward. The same eyes closed drowsily as lips were pressed chastely against his forehead. It was an old expression of affection between friends, one she knew of but at the same time was aware of the fact that it was rarely practiced, especially between males.

The pure, unabashed affection seemed like the most natural thing in the world for the young wolf. It was obvious he had limitations, but he freely gave what love seemed appropriate to who he deemed deserved it.

His lips left Danni's brow and he met his eyes, smiling in a gentle, relaxed manner. "Stop worrying," he whispered, faint accent coloring his breathless, still strained words. "We have all lost something… We are equal."

Alice was confused at his parting phrase as he took the violin up and walked through the door, Danni following close behind. Evidently their break was over. She stared after them for a moment.

"We have all lost something…" What could he have meant by that? She sat there for a while pondering his words. After all, she'd just met him. Danni knew better than to open his mouth and spill her secrets. He couldn't possibly know about that, no.

Alice took a deep breath and stood, lifting her arms upward and stretching her body out. She paced forward slowly and touched her hand to the cool pane of glass that was the outside wall. Rain that didn't drench her slid over her fingers, casting shadows on her and everything surrounding. Her past was far from perfect… She just didn't want everyone to know about it. Not yet, anyway.