User blog:MockingJester/A song unheard

She sings in a hall filled with the warmth of many. Men, women, monsters, all fitted in pairs, holding each other's hands.

Her voice is as golden as an angel, soothing their ears in the shivering cold of midnight. Silence obscures them, thinking only of her voice, her melody and the faithful that holds their fingers in laces.

The halls gradually empty themselves of people moving with her angelic melody purifying this strength they call love, carrying them against the harrowing winds of winter, unable to assail their slow and warm walk home with promises of returning if only, to hear her sing.

An angel on the stage, a hymn from the heavens, eyes filled with adoration for a man standing at the back, looking back to her, a hand mimicking that of an orchestra master. In spite of his scant knowledge of the voice, he couldn't help but raise a mug in her name just as she moves her hand to her angelic lips to blow off a kiss his way, a heart yearning to accompany it.

And she would with the last patrons leaving, the bar closing. Each step made toward this waiting man is adorned with the pluck of a wing behind her back, up to six gleaming in pure light. Her stance bears not the pose of the warrior, but of a woman looking to fall on her beloved's arms, drenched for a lovestruck kiss ~My cherished...~

"You sing as wonderfully as ever" He holds her close, carrying her feet far from the floor as he walks for two from the bar. Busy with catching up, her form remains tethered to him, arms spread behind, legs joined under. Her wings push the door away, leaving the two to pace under the falling snow, a dome of shimmering heat biting and devouring every snowflake daring to stain her immaculate hair.

Ever surprised to be treated as such, the warrior angel giggles, eyes turning to a seductive stare the way a woman looks at her husband with a promise to leave no second of sleep from either. Their co-joined breaths burn the falling snow further, spreading into a mist of recollection... --- "About time, Drake. Come on in, we saved a seat for you" A friendly voice comes bouncing to a man opening the doors to the Precipice. A place with more than its share of drunken patrons drinking themselves to sleep.

Drake takes a seat among his two friends calling out for his casual drink. A mug, cold and shivering, slides off it's own moist cooling the underside, all the way to his hand.

"Sorry. Work and all". The mug rises, delivering a parcel of its alcoholic content to the man.

"It's fine, it's fine" The two others take a sip of their own drinks, words turning to more casual tones over the slide of time. Hours passing as mere minutes.

They talk. They laugh. They goad. They play games of coin on each's mugs. Each of them enjoying their spacious bubble far from others.

A bubble soon to burst by the opposite side of Drake's seat. A woman left to her design, laid on the cupboard amidst a legion of empty mugs. Stirred by their voices, her drunken stupor prompts her awake. Half-awake, half-slurpy.

"He~ey!" Her inebriated voice travels the board over, hitting the trio in its unintelligible moan.

"Huh?" They slightly move about, feeling interpellated by her voice. "Ehh, probably a drunk" Calls one of Drake's buddies, Nathan.

"Yea" Shrugs Billy.

"Yea" As does Drake.

"Anyway, as I was saying--" The impact of a mug near them cuts Nathan's sentence apart "What the--? Ohh, someone's hitting the sauce today".

"This again?" Billy turns to Drake's surprised expression, looking straight at the winged woman struggling to keep herself standing.

"This...again?" Drake raises an eyebrow, only to feel the brush of a woman's bosom lean on his arm, a drunken gaze returned to him. A dizzy, hiccup laded maiden of battle in the attempt of sculpting a seductive look "Ohh...um...hi?"

"Hiii--hiccup--iii!" Her free hand waves back at him, the flow of unkempt hair obstinate on her shoulder "I's heard you were into--hiccup--bad girls--hiccup--! Well, handsome, better buckle--hiccup--up!"

Her eyes waver for a moment, discarding the hazy line of inebriated glasses. One hidden to Billy. One hidden to Nathan. A line, hidden, blurry in her voice "Because...I'm...bad...at...every~thing..."

The head guard that adorns her forehead decks the table in a strong clank, snoring as loud as she can at the dismay and grunt of the bartender.

"Well, Drake, welcome to our returning party pooper", declares Nathan with half a laugh, half in embarrassment.

"Party pooper? What, you mean her?"

"Yea, all the time we talk about a 'lingering' issue that would stick around like an arrow on the shoulder? Well, you're looking at it" Billy gestures to the drunk-induced valkyrie giggling in her sleep, wholly ignorant of her turn about. Wholly bliss in its blind embrace.

"Really?" Drake takes a gander, feeling her unapologetic breathing, ragged from the excess booze "I didn't think someone like her would take to the bottle like that".

"Yea, well, neither did we. And here she is, an annoying presence around the bar. When she isn't irritating us with horrid speeches, she goes to be insufferable around the mic". Nathan speaks with a clear disdain stressing each word.

"Hehe, yea, someone must have forgotten to tell her that drunks scarcely can sing. It enters an ear only to blow out the other way. Kind of like how they like to holler at others doing the same".

"Seriously, just ignore her. Bring any attention will only prompt more ear-bleeding pitches". A coin flips on Drake's mug, the restart to their favored game, to which he concedes.

All the while sending glances the woman's way. Amid Nathan and Billy's banters about a foul shot, he throws a glance once in a while. As expected, she was back to her seat, a sizable distance from the group with yet another frosty mug clutched in her fingers. Barely standing, she takes a sip. Silence befalls her, her temper now drowned in its wake, thoughts sealed by the abundance of beer.

Her eyes line on the table, a quiet patron among loud ones with a head slightly nocked their direction. Only slightly, and for but the best of a second before her face falters on the mug-ridden furniture.

This game he plays, the interval sees him glance away. Glancing the night away, its darkest midnight with the steam of people departing like heat choked in a building.

"Hey, Drake! We do this next week?" Nathan waves at the latecomer caught in a joust with spitting gold coins from his pocket per the number of drink he downed.

"Yea, yea. Next week". He turns his head to the duo leaving, the two opting to take a separate cab home. An unspoken agreement between the three to forgo their cars after a night of drinking, especially in the darkest of hours.

"Hey, thanks for the grub, bartender". Drake tosses a five-dollar bill as a tip, which the recipient is all-too-happy to accept...with a word to spare.

"Wait, sir!"

"Hmm?" Drake had a hand on the door, phone in his hand for a cab.

"If you wouldn't mind, perhaps you could take the lady with you..." He points to the valkyrie still dozing the night away surrounded by empty mugs.

Drake's eyes squint a bit. Angelic monsters never were the most accommodating among the people, much less a maiden of battle. Even less of this one with his friends constantly talking with scorn in their tone.

Still, Drake was already teeming in hesitation between conceding and rejecting his request "Are you sure asking a stranger to bring a drunk unconscious woman to his home is a sound idea?"

"Well, usually, I wouldn't give the request, but, I see you look compassionate. Most would have flat out rejected my humble request or try to coerce me to let them".

"Really? Do I look that into it? I mean, having someone sleep in a blackout isn't all that fun".

"Yes, it is. It's not a fond sight to see a lady walk herself out like this. That, and..."

"And?" Drake moves from the door, fully turned to the bartender in curiosity.

"Well, your friend may have omitted this, but, it seems the fair lady has been...how I say, seeking you out. Eavesdropping in their conversation once in a while to hear how you enjoy a few hymns".

"Well, that's not wrong..."

"Then, surely you can concede, just for today..." The bartender approaches her table, head constantly turned to Drake in their conversation as he picked up mug after mug.

"Hmm...I don't know. I hear quite a bit about their recurrent hostility".

The bartender stops for a moment, his body leaning on the table in his grasp of yet another mug. A risen eyebrow comes with a proposition "Ok, how about this? You bring her home today...I give you a few rounds on the table. I'm sure having a few Henry's Sodas on the bar is a relief for your purse. After all, they're not the easiest to manufacture..."

"Hmm..." Drake looks at the dozing woman. A balance of two points stands over his shoulders. One speaking of refusal. Speaking of the virulent violence they are prone to.

The other speaks of the free drinks he might be welcomed to. No more need of spitting precious coins, as well-endowed he was. Ten dollars for Henry's bottle is a hole after all.

Yet, he would lean toward her with a third factor nascent in his mind. Her voice, once she spoke to him. Laced in melancholy. A bramble of hope drowned in alcohol. Something calling to him. And his empathy had taken the call. Perhaps...before even the bartender had words with him.

Drake takes his phone for a quick call to the nearest taxi driver with a minute or two to wait. He sighs and turns to the waiting bartender "Give me one free every weekend and we've got a deal".

"Deal". He approaches a hand unsullied by his glove to shake Drake's palm. His somewhat morose gaze now lifted to relief, he resumes his work quickly after their hands' separation, looking at a few dozen mugs to clean and rinse before shelving.

All the while Drake to the valkyrie's hands, raising them upward as he coils on her waist. A classic princess carriage, his problems already are on the horizon with the winged angel half-awoken by the motion "He~he, I'm flying--hiccup--, but my wings are not--hiccup--even here".

"Could have at least waited until home before she woke up..." Drake sighs in what he feels like an annoyance demonstrated by her cold hand coiling on his cheek.

"He~he...Draky--hiccup--I knew--hiccup--...I knew my singing would convince you--hiccup--. But I'm still--hiccup--I'm still--hiccup--hiccup--" Her head falls back to the landscape of dreams as it falls on Drake's bearing shoulders. The sheer heat of alcohol burns on her cheeks, painting them in a lustrous red.

Asleep, she remains. Throughout the trip to his apartment. Throughout his lay on his sofa, where she sleeps more soundly, a faint smile on her disturbing lips. No armor is present over her brown sleeveless garb. No weapon is borne on her hips of brown pants. And no shield is visible on her back. Nothing but the wings on which she was left to sleep in under a sheet of silk. Drake's own sheet, in fact.

"You know, wings aren't the most of light as they said in myths. I feel like my back just got sore" Drake slips a pillow on the woman's ear before rushing an arm over his shoulder, clearly unused to carrying anyone, to begin with, let alone someone with six wings.

His pace to the bathroom is persistent in back strains, likely to make his sleep both invigorating and appalling... --- "What gave you the right to imprint your hands on me, foul man?!" Drake expected something like this to occur. Waking up with nature's alarm clock of the rays shimmering through his window.

Rising for a morning trip to the toilet.

Going to the kitchen coupled with the living room for a coffee brew.

Leaning on the sofa where she slept with a look over her general health.

Plucking the coffee brew out for two mugs, one of which he drinks, the other one, laid on the cupboard.

Turning as he heard stirring motions.

And...a sword. Pointed his direction. Imbued in a de-escalating aura of materialization alongside a shield in the same state.

"Well, Drake, you took the hand. Might as well play with it..." The mug in which he sips from conceals his words in mumbling, spurning the agitated woman further by his seeming ignorance.

"I asked you something!" The air shimmers under her cutting edge, an unveiled threat to Drake who feels the wing pass from the swing.

"Good morning to you too" He gestures to a warm mug sitting on the counter "Surely you want something to heat you up after yesterday".

"Do not try to deviate from your act, cur! I'll make you pay for defiling me in my moment of weakness!"

"Ohh, you mean bringing you here? The bartender asked me to..." The serrated-looking weapon sure is something to worry about. Yet, Drake speaks with no inherent dread or panic. He knows what he did and she did too "...he said it might make for a change, though now that you're awake, I'm starting to think that driving you home would have been a better alternative".

"So, you're telling me you didn't do anything? Anything at all?" Her weapon begins to falter.

"Well, save for having to endure your snoring, meek touch and drunken demeanor..."

"..." The woman lowers her shimmering blade to her side, half-unconvinced, half-relieved with a hint of...something else. A sigh peers under her teal irises, knowing that little more than aid has been provided. With no words, no 'thank-you', no gratitude, she looks to the window and leaps through it, prompting his eyebrow to rise and follow.

To follow all the way to the edge where he can see her disappear from the sky. Moving his head under the window, he mutters 'You're welcomed' before closing it down, looking back to the lonely cup soon to cool with no thirst to quench. --- Days pass. Work in, work out. One of them sees Drake return home, a day before meeting with the boys at the Precipice. Today saw fit to have him stand out the window, feet resting on the rail guard of his balcony.

A symphony feeds his ears in that of vocal hymns, courtesy of his phone wired to earphones. A calm song, prone to lull the hardest of sleepers.

So, with his consciousness half asleep, it is of no surprise that the man snaps back awake by the sudden cut from his feed, replaced by a loud ringing "Huh? Someone's calling?"

Moving the phone from his deep pockets, Drake takes a gander at the screen flashing numbers teeming in familiarity "Weird. Billy usually doesn't call at this time".

He presses on the screen once, far from the red indicator and on a green one, enabling the cellphone to ascend to another screen with an initiated timer "Hey, Billy, what's up--"

A loud exuberant noise filled with discordant tones scorches the air close to his ear, prompting him to dislodge his buds "The hell?"

"You hearin' this, man?" A voice speaks amidst the chaotic utterings.

"Billy? Did you just call me to punk me or something?"

"Nah, man, this is what happens when you mix a valkyrie with excessive alcohol. Song's worse than a chain-smoker trying to sing while swallowing a box of nails".

Drake listens to the screeching and asymmetrical phonetics. They were...without order. Without rhythm. Too loud at the worse inflations. Too soft at the best of them. Curiosity goads Drake into listening, for, amidst the broken chorus, something was calling to him "So...this is her voice then...it's--"

His voice comes off as a whisper at his last sentence, something Billy cannot hear as more than murmurs in his erratic atmosphere "Yea, pretty horrid, huh?"

"Well, it's--"

"Absolutely ear-shattering, I know. It's worse in person, trust me. But hey, I've already bought myself for a few drinks anyway, might as well use my inebriated senses and blot it all out". Leaving no space for Drake to add any word, Billy cuts contact with the intent on emptying his spent money as fast as he can, leaving Drake to ponder about what he heard.

A symphony butchered in any reasonable ears. Likely those of the patrons plagued with a drunken maiden of battle unable to devise the concept of her surrounding. And again, something else played in-between, a line under the quaking sea of her alcohol discord. Perhaps...

"I wonder..." Drake had the dial on his phone back to his song, somewhat similar. He turns it off, looking to the innards of his home where his laptop lingers. Opened at a moment's notice, he starts browsing and looking at sheets and pamphlets, looking... --- This evening is signed off with a direct route to the Precipice to meet Billy and Nathan. Drake sighs, as his workload has proven to be somewhat more than usual today "Man, can't wait to drop those sore muscles in cold liquid".

Walking in the bar at his usual lateness, the man is gleeful to see a frosty bottle laid on the counter, courtesy of the bartender shooting a tempting smirk on the newest arrival "A deal's a deal, good sir".

"I appreciate that". Drake takes his seat, popping off the cap to indulge in a strong gulp, all under the bewildered gaze of his companions. Nathan, in particular, is all-too-eager to work out the machination of this free tab.

"Ok, how?"

Drake puts his shivering glass back on the counter, still filled "Huh?"

"How? How did you work yourself to a free drink? Guy says you're somehow eligible for one free every visit."

"Ohh..." Drake takes a gander at the bartender mixing in another drink "We had a deal".

"What deal?" Billy approaches, curious as well.

"Easy, I took a load off his shoulders".

"Really? That simple?"

"Yep". Drake takes in another sip from his bottle still under their dubious looks before looking back "You guys seem more relaxed".

"Yea, as it should be. Off-singer over here went straight for the bottle instead of beating our earlobes with her vocal weapon of torture". Billy points to the down faced valkyrie, a hand grasping a beer and barely conscious amidst empty bottles.

"Huh, I thought she always sang around here".

"Nah, that's only once in a while when she feels especially insufferable. Right now, we're basking in her post-regret phase where she figures out nobody wants to hear her dullard voice".

"I see..." Drake looks at her for a moment. A moment suspended in time, his mind gauging possibilities. Her current disposition. And again, his buried empathy merged with his love for vocal phonetics chime in his ears.

He rises from his seat as the two others were setting up for a drinking game. "Hey, hey, hey! Drake, man, where are you going?" Nathan looks to the soon departed, clearly going for the lone sleeper.

"I want to verify something" Drake looks back to his clearly dubious buddy.

"What?! You want to know at what decibels your eardrums rupture?! Because the only thing you're getting is bleeding lobes and a trip to the hospital!"

"Well, if that happens, I'll buy you a drink once I'm out" Drake turns back, a decisive pace to said table where he takes a seat while planting his bottle in front of her, just enough to spur the drunker patron awake.

A droopy confused stare pierces his eyes, soon met with an increasingly happy expression wearing on her face. Although...that might be the alcohol speaking.

"Draky--hiccup--! You're--hiccup--here!" Her hand lunges forward, looking to cup with his own, not realizing her fingers couldn't reach midway the table's distance.

"Yea, yea. Not sure you're really speaking here. But, hey, the barman over here tells me you like singing".

The drunken woman's gaze briefly widens, sending her entire body in an upward glee "Ohh--hiccup--! You want to--hiccup--hear me sing?! Of course--hiccup--you do, that's why--hiccup--you--hiccup--are here! Here--hiccup--I go! Ahh--"

"Hold on now" Drake lifts a hand to the blurry-eyed woman before ushering it in a room further from where they sit "I don't think people here are ready to be interrupted".

She looks around, grazing other people talking and playing around. Her wings briefly burst out in a rising standing "Right". Her movement is angelic, peerless, gracious, elegant. A warrior rising from the humble seat on which she sat.

It hits Drake with its glimpse. A potential unfiltered, a promise of beauty looking back in the shape of her smile, directed wholly at him among all. It pierces his eyes, his being...his soul. Something fans within. Something uncalculable...

But it immediately snuffs out by the woman's step out of place. Her drunken stupor makes this gleaming rise a failure, stumbling her body in a shallow manner. She looks to the small room, a theater-like place where the occasional joker can come to try spilling his morning thoughts "Here! Let's--hiccup--go here!"

"Obviously" Drake steps out of his own chair, still under the bewildered look of Billy and Nathan placing bets on how long he's bound to endure her infernal singing before his ears give out.

Her pace to the stage is a shambling stumble, constantly entangled by the alcohol that flows in her system. Her grasp of the microphone is as clumsy as expected, leaning more into it than a mere firm holding.

The door closes as an effort of Drake to avoid disturbing anyone else in this endeavor of his. Not too soon as the woman begins singing and...he didn't expect it to be this off-key.

His ears are promptly eviscerated by the sounds and hymns fitting together about as well as a rectangle trying to force itself in a triangle hole.

The drunken slurs don't help either, interrupting what already sounds abysmal with even worse chants. All in all, this first sequence of seconds were proving Billy right.

Recoiling at the intensity of her opening oratory, Drake was, however, returned to a more...open listening. His phone opened and recording now lays on the front table, taking in every note his ears were struggling to endure.

His eyes were caught in the middle of a storm. A peace to find within, a lullaby to witness between. He saw something, not unlike the way she rose from her seat. The glimpse of what made her someone to behold. And he endures...all the way to darkness.

A time seeing most of the patrons gone, including his friends. According to the bartender, one of them left with a surprised grin on his face. The other? A surprised grinch of disbelief.

Drake rubs one of his ears amid their ongoing recovery. As expected, Billy was right. And...he was not so right. He had his footages, ready to exfiltrate it at home. Only...

"Ohh, Draky-poo, I've--hiccup--enjoyed singing to you!" The valkyrie's hand stretches around to his furthest shoulder, once again laminating him in her alcohol-drenched presence. Her voice is slurs and hiccups. But, even here, something else waited. A fiber of happiness, perhaps. Gratitude. Or anything in-between.

"I would luv--hiccup--to sing to--hiccup--you again! Somewhere more--hiccup--intima--hiccup--inti--hiccup--i--hiccuphiccuphiccup--" Her head falters under the unending stream of hiccups pouring from her exhausted lips, soon spreading to her body already febrile from the binge drinking. Once again, she falls unconscious, forcing Drake's instincts to usher his body in an impromptu attempt to keep her from falling.

Said effort brings his free hand under her unoccupied armpit in an attempt to hold her, bringing their chests together at the middle. Her entire weight collapses on his body, leaving no impression of her 'size', even beyond the brown garb that affiliates her.

"Not this again..." Drake's struggle is two-fold, holding a body honed in muscles and holding a body in one of the myriad apexes of feminity. A taste of this buried shine he saw twice now currently trying to topple him over. All while the bartender was busy with his casual closing acts.

Which he stops, looking back to Drake's struggle. A second time for an opportunity to call out to this...act that prompted the man to willingly suffer as he is "Sir?"

Drake takes a gander at his interloper holding a plate of empty and stained mugs waiting to be cleaned. A simple gaze between then speaks everything about the request he made a week earlier "No...again?!"

"I'm sure it would lighten miss' spirits. I'm sure you noticed how happy she was at finally having someone listen to her. Surely you can extend your arm once more, if just for today?"

"I don't know. Last time, I kind of had a sword pointed at me with a face looking back like I was some deviant".

"But the fair lady didn't act on this behalf, did she?"

"Doesn't change the fact that I had a sword pointed at me".

"Oh, come now, I'm sure she knew you had nothing to act upon. Otherwise, I doubt you'd be here at this moment".

"Yea, by a miracle...think I'll just call a cab for her turf...wherever it is. You said you had to holler her back home, I take it means you know her--

"Ok...how about two free bottles? Hmm? Think about it. Twice the time you won't need to chip in your hard-earned bills." The bartender looks at him with a certainly assured glare in his eyes. Between having to duel the dozing woman in his arms and the prospect of yet another free bottle to call, Drake was not so much negotiating from a position of weakness but signing off the terms of surrender in the same spot.

"Seriously? You're really doing this? Now? Fine, then, but I'm holding you to that promise, barman".

"Of course, sir". He turns away, ignoring the subtle grumble squeezed out of Drake's struggle to reach for his phone while holding the leisure woman on his front, counting every second the taxi isn't here in this moment... --- Again, in the den of the night, Drake forces every step toward the sofa with more strenuous effort to lay her on the side, once more sheathed by wools. Her snore is belligerent, loud, as expected as from someone versed in arms.

"Well, that's a company I didn't expect to have here today as well, but..." His hands brush the top of a laptop resting idly on the glass table, quickly booted to use.

"Looking up whatever she may have tried to sing...drunkingly. This is going to be fun..." His voice pours nothing but an annoying sarcasm, scouring the net for every bit of apps capable of devising a song by the tone and humming. A task taking a fair amount of time until consistent results pings in clarity in popping windows.

"Ok...ohh, wow. That's one I didn't hear before..." Drake's eyes move from the frame as a very familiar, yet old song plays out. A soft look lines with the valkyrie, remembering the peerless gaze she briefly shined in, hoping to convey the strength of the song "Reall going for a classic, were you?"

He turns back to his computer, starting a piling of info deep in the night... --- Morning comes shining through the windows, burning the fleeting darkness to mere shadows out of sight. Drake had woken up from his seat on the sofa, his computer still powered with a noticeably dimmer screening. The man has never been a fan of its sleep mode, leaving it turned off.

So, with a trip to the bathroom, he was...perturbed to see the valkyrie awake, much more sitting on his seat being bombarded by the dim light of his screen "O...k..."

A paper laid by the laptop's side scribbled with lyrics and phonetics. Inflations and movements under a title etched at the paper's peak. She looked at it all, her expression indiscernible by the obstacle of hair laced on either side of her.

Ever slowly, ever gradual, her hair shifts as her head cranes to the back where he was, an expressionless gaze between the eyes. Or it first looked as such, only for his eyes to flicker for the thing between. Not like last time, judging by the lack of a blinding flash or a shimmering blade.

No of then has he expected to meet. Something else shined in. One as quick as the way she rises from the seat, pacing more regularly.

"That's not the window..." Drake crosses his hands, watching her circle the furniture to the door, opening and closing it with her transition at the middle.

His arms cross no longer as for the faintest of time, as it shut her out, he could see her repressing expression concede to a very faint glimmer in her eye. Another glimpse of what he had seen in her rise of yesterday. Of her voice.

Drake stands here, unsure of what to say or feel among the tiniest of heat shimmering softly in the depth of his chest. Something again nascent. --- The weekend. The Monday all the way to Friday. The morning blue to work. The evening orange to his leisure. This pattern repeats with this feeling persistent, slightly more fervent with each passing day, waiting for the next passage.

The Friday comes as mundane and clogged as ever, making Drake late to his weekly reunion with Billy and Nathan. The two already advanced in their drinking when he steps in, a renewal of a promise made in his name.

"Hey, Drake" Billy raises his mug, scooting over while pointing at his inert bottle. His cheeks are somewhat red, an indication of his enthusiastic time under the beverage "Barman said there's another one waiting for you. From where it came from? I dunno".

"A deal" Drake takes his seat, quick to clip the capsule from it.

"A deal...another one?" Billy takes a gander at Nathan who reciprocates the look.

"Pretty much" Drake takes a sip from his bottle "It's more of compensation than a deal, really".

"Yea, I'm sure..." Nathan's voice breathes the skepticisms of a seasoned drinker as he plays around with a capsule "So, we playing or are you going to rub it in some?"

"Nah, let's just..." Drake pulps his piece on Billy's mug, prompting him a drink in his own pitcher. A silent, yet boisterous game between them. One shuddering to a quieter season of decelerated drinking over the night's government.

A time spent seamlessly, uninterrupted as opposed as those of before. It was weird for Drake, like a missing puzzle piece that refused to slot itself at a certain moment. It rubbed him wrong as strongly as the feeling shuddering in his bosom.

By this point, Billy and Nathan had more empty mugs than he, leaving him the time to ponder and quickly seek out this piece. Again, under the renewed wailing of Nathan who's altered mind knows too-well of his intent.

Or, of Billy who sees another occasion to line his pocket against the starved purse of his spent coins with a bet among the duo.

Drake picks up his bottle and moves away, blind to the joined bills of fifty dollars doubled in quantity. He moves to the small amphitheater, empty as ever with little in the way of bold patrons looking to muster any semblance of confidence at its stage.

Illuminated by artificial light, his sight is filled with a singular presence at a table, a few empty mugs in place. The valkyrie, alone in the room of tables and black cloth draped over them.

His disposition perks up at the subtle approach of her returning 'one-day host' "Draky-poo! You're--hic--back!" Her rise is cut short by the wobbly table fiercely impacted by her knees. Her state allows her to rescind this to avoid ripping it from its bolts.

Seeing him sit brings her spirits down as her descent and gaze. Her voice breathes through her tipsy state in a play of melancholy as she watches him briefly "Is it...is it that bad? My singing? My...voice?"

"Hmm?" Drake wasn't the most prepared for this question, nor the expression of benign resignation pouring from her face. The alcohol in her veins seemed to have been dethroned by this overwhelming sense of

"My voice...does it...do you loathe it?" Pure grief twisted the angelic features around her cheeks and pores, not unlike when in a frown "Does it push you away like it did the others? Your words...they seemed to...indicate..."

"So she did look through" Drake remembers his computer open to all present, meaning her. His notes, his applications, all directed to a singular objective. One he wasn't willing to leave this deep in investment.

"Strange that you speak to me at this moment. I'm guessing you didn't take to the bottle so hard today".

"...I didn't feel like so much..." Her body periodically stutters from the moderate amount, though not enough to be too noticeable.

"Well, to answer your question: it is somewhat uncomfortable to hear".

"I see...I knew it was no angelic tone...but to hear you say it of all people..." Her hand clenches over her current mug, slightly cracking it under the pressure. Her eyes seek shelter behind her hair, hiding the shameful tears that so wanted to spill out. Her voice was no angel, for she was no angel herself.

"Yea..." Drake pulls out a piece of paper and his phone over the table, placing them in full view, snapping her tearing trance in pieces "That is why this is here".

"What..." Looking at his laptop, all she could device were the comparisons of the song she tried to mimic and her own voice. A stark difference, strong enough to discourage her to look further to notes. Note he had in front of her "What is..."

Inflations and deflations. Pitches of different levels to change or keep A monumental puzzles of notes yet incomplete. A surprised gaze peering through to Drake "Your singing is just rugged. You simply have the need to practice, but I could hear it. The soft melody in this joy you had at someone willing to hear you out. I want to help you polish it..."

He looks back to her increasingly stricken expression "I'm guessing it's a reason why you went all on me as you knew me the first time. Well, I'm in, let's go then". This feeling, it was but a seed of what was planted in the lapse between her drunken discord. Something looking to nourish itself from the voice of melody.

Her confounded look turns to that of a tearing smile. A faint one flushed out by the alcohol. It was slurry...blurry...sincere amidst the blur. She had someone to sing to. Someone willing to hear her again and again, no matter the faulty tones.

Her eager wings plop out, taking her to the stage, the door closed leaving the two secluded. Drake's ears take the burden of her discordant tones, slurred by drunken lips, punctured by asymmetrical pitches. It mattered little, the brief halcyon among her inebriated mimick of a hymn present and teasing.

This night sees her depart by herself, sober enough to warrant no guide back. Yet, it only seemed so, with Drake finally leaving the amphitheater to find his seat devoid of his friends, again, under the barman's impression of one them running off fifty dollars richer behind the other robbed of his bill.

Drake's hand on the phone, he pushes the door "Yea...yea, it's me again. Same as usual. You pick me up at the--

His voice stops, prompting the phone operator to speak up "I'm sorry, sir? Could you repeat yourself?"

"Actually, I'll call you later..." Drake taps on his phone, ending his call, his hand faltering from his side to the pocket from which it spilled. The den of the night could hold no sway over the blond-haired woman standing before him, her gaze faltered to the side.

Having drunk virtually little in the span of this evening, the warrior maiden holds a stance not uncommon to a timid pose. An uncanny sight for her in particular with her being breathing in a way anathema to one dressed in the way of battle.

"Hey" Her mutter is soft, quiet in comparison of the night's hollow winds, still looking downward.

Hey..." Drake looks around, unsure what to make of the situation "I'm assuming you're not exactly waiting for a cab with those wings of yours, so..."

"Actually..." She takes a step close "I was wondering" Her alcoholism seemed to hold no more grasp on her delicate step than the mere words prompting her forward "I...want to sing...again...to sing better...to someone..."

"Ohh? Well, I can come again next week as always if that's what you're asking for".

An immediate headshake shoots this idea down, buried under a second step even closer to the inquiring man "I wish to learn more under your tutelage. Sooner if possible". Her eyes now brand the certainty of the typical valkyrie, only strange by the request that hones it.

"Well, that would assume you'd accompany me back home and whatnot for more on-the-nose continual, and seeing how you first were when I brought you here, I don't know if--

"Is that it?" Her tone gains assurance once more, enough for her six wings to sprout in a gilded aura, enabling her inhuman speed behind Drake. Her arms rub softly, gently and delicately under his armpits, cutting the lapse of flight from his mind.

---you would like that--and I'm no longer on the front of the Precipice, am I?" His feet no longer feel the soil, but the wing that courses through.

"If you are more comfortable at your domain, then it shall be so. Worry not, I know the layer to the humble sepulture you call home". Her voice is strong and boisterous, deep in that of a warrior.

"I bet you do..." Drake can only rub at his forehead over the screeching winds pelting his face over the height of her flight, a rapid pace to the apartment blocks, darting straight for his particular segment. --- The morning comes again, this time, under weary skies dressed in gray clouds with piercing downward to countless windows in withered quantity. Including that of Drake's own room, reflected on the walls invested of bright color.

Waking up, he does as he does, going for the bathroom. Then, the kitchen sharing open space with the living room. His movement is methodical, almost mechanical behind years of affinity and repetition.

Brewing coffee with his back on the second counter between the kitchen and the living room, humming while he does. All over the gaze of the valkyrie who had time to usher everything he intended to do minutes before. Sitting on the sofa in a shape-shifted set of pajamas, she waits patiently, absolved from the alcohol. Waiting for him to turn to her, a mug in hand.

He does with surprise jolting slightly "?!" His stare meets her placid expression rigid in its presence. But, this one had a growling expectation underneath laced in a faint blush. Something he could see more clearly. The anticipation to learn, further burned by her words "I...would like to begin as soon as we...can..."

"O...k...ok" Drake turns back, now brewing another mug. Her first two visits here ended in a semi-volatile exchange of words and silence. An atmosphere he didn't think of making a second coffee mug. Now, however, it was different "First, I think you could use a pick-me-up".

"Of course..." Her hands cup together, receiving the mug filled with steaming coffee-colored in a mix of white and caramel, the shade of vanilla. The burning lows.

"You know you can take it by the handle, right?"

"Trivial burns are nothing to someone like me. You need not worry" Cupping it like glass, she takes a sip under Drake's doubt, the latter sitting at the sofa opposite to hers. Her sip is slow and methodical. Deliberate, soft and gradual. Every drip is a flavor to savor, one easily catching the man in the fanes of whatever prompted him to concede so willingly, beating in his chest cavity.

This simple act is one bathed in a bountiful aura in his eye, feeding it a glimpse of her. A piece buried no more, made available to his sighting. A simple moment of a woman sipping slowly, bearing no might nor distance. It was...rapturous to behold.

"What...she's just drinking. Why am I...?" The heat of the moment made its realization clear of what was now in his domain. A warrior angel who, by all means, should have wrought herself to the highest of maestros for her peculiar quirk. An angelic entity bestowed to myriads of capabilities, currently sipping something with much more than the simple act of drinking.

"This is satisfactory. You brew as well as you explicate" Even the act of putting the cup on the miniature table is a delicate maneuver, once again pulling at his heartstrings. Once again, putting the realization of what was a guest at home.

"I guess..." Drake's face feuds with itself over the need to express the heat mounting on his cheeks, forcing himself to mild manner as he pulls out his phone and a wire to connect back to his computer.

Even doing this proves to be...trying. One second, the valkyrie looked intrigued, wondering whether he was willing to begin. The next second, she flashes next to him, hands on her knees still.

"I see you are ready to begin. Then let us not waste any more time" Her voice breathes a hidden passion under a stoic wall, waiting on his words.

"Hum...well, yes why not. I have little happening in the weekend" Drake clicks on a few files extracted from his phone, recordings put to comparisons. Files he translates as tips of advice.

The day is spent indoors, his ears acclimated to her trying tone still honed to that of a warrior over a singer. Their concert is rough around the edges, slowly being chiseled and polished.

Work spending the time on Saturday and Sunday as but coins inserted in a slot machine, coursing in invisibility to Drake's eyes. The fall of Sunday sees progress renew a sense of confidence the winged maiden is not willing to lose to early in the advent of the week.

Moving at the door after being graced to her host's supper, her pace stops midway, turning back to meet in behind her azure gaze. A stoic stance breathes through her tone "At what hour can I expect you tomorrow?"

"Huh?" Drake nooks his head slightly.

"Tomorrow. At the Precipice. Do you not visit this bar?"

"Only on Fridays".

"Ohh..." Her eyes lower for a second or two, then rise again "Surely you can make an exception for the time being".

"Well, I don't have really have a reason to dwell at the bar until Friday. Billy and Nathan aren't here and I'm no heavy drinker and I seriously don't think barmen just let loiterers stand around".

"Well, I'm sure the barman wouldn't have any serious problem with your wish to remain sober..." She takes a step closer, his hand amidst his shock to her heart. A sweetened look to her eyes broadcast an appeal from the depth "I would like to learn more from you as it fills my heart with contentment. I know I ask much of you...but..."

It was strange to see her asking for a request of such manner. But a sure welcomed one, none-the-less "Sure. If you prefer continuing so earnestly".

"Gracious. Then I shall await you tomorrow" Her hand moves from his as she follows suit. A walk down to the nearest window between apartments, a faint smile wearing on her face. Anticipation now fervently idling in her mind, looking to sing once more... --- Today had a twist on the evening. As promised, under the orange cerulean sky, Drake shifted far from home as he ranges the highroad, moderately populated with earnest individuals looking to unwind.

Not Drake.

His drive brought him straight for the Precipice somewhat early. A fervent advocate for moderation, he wasn't impatient to take a drink so soon.

"Of course, you may stay" The barman slides a cocktail over to a client amid his permission to Drake, the latter curious to his quick concession.

"Alright, thanks. Didn't think you'd be so willing to that".

"Well, it's not like you're just loitering around. She's going to be happy to have someone to practice with. I don't at all mind this".

"I guess..." Drake takes a waving stance and buries himself to the amphitheater, of course, with the Valkyrie waiting. A table among many populated by one individual in a sea of empty seats.

"Ohh, you are present" Seeing him breach the door prompts her up to meet midway, an angelic walk in his direction.

"Yea. As we promised, we meet..." His sentence is interrupted by the soft cup of his hands by her own, allowing his finger to taste of the silk-like texture of her palms. Palms quivering in joy at joining with his, a reflection of the valkyrie ushered in a less faint smile for a more present one.

"...here". Again, the realization of who's hands holds his comes blinding his mind. If the mere touch was this invigorating to feel, then her singing... --- "What did I even expect?" He was by the table, a front row to the venerable woman pouring her still inexperienced heart out in a string. A stark difference to what he had heard from the account of Billy and Nathan. Of her drunken voice that played ill tones.

This one was already shining through its reasonable lapses, through the simple need of polish. It was why he was here, calling her out for sound advice midway through her tutelage.

"Ok, that's much better. Though you don't need to be afraid of breathing between pitches, otherwise, it's going to be a pain for you to follow up on stretched out hollers".

"Ohh, of course". The microphone dresses up, re-aligned by her hand, waiting to feel the reverberations of her voice.

Simple advice, not more than tiny alignments, a strong fix for the valkyrie. An unending string of annoyment for a few patrons stumbling here, their intoxication becoming their unrestrained voice "Dude! Can't you just pipe down already?!"

"Huh?" Drake turns to a few squallers, mugs in hands, tipsy in tone and mind, at the surprise of the woman on stage, not aware of their presence. As expected, pulled in his re-direction.

"Sorry, but the door was closed when we started--"

"We know that!" Interjects one of them "We came to hear some melody, but your brash voice keeps cutting our high out!".

"I mean, why do you keep cutting her out, man!? I'm not hearing any problem from where I stand!"

"Seriously, she's fine enough as it is!"

Their rabble comes from his interjection "Really?" He nods, turning to the only person on stage, somewhat in blush "Well, what do you know. Seems you're already picking up on listeners".

"I..." Her eyes close behind a brighter and smaller smile. As small as the gathering was, it was people opting to listen to her humble voice, willing enough.

A closed smile sees her resume, again. A wordless agreement between her and Drake to let her sing with but the most subtle of hand movements as direction. An act becoming a pattern over the week.

Then weeks.

Weeks seeing the amphitheater filling more and more with diverse patrons. Some stretching from other pubs over the persistent words filtering out of it through drunken minds.

Days pass into weeks, as her voice pass to a more angelic one, capable of rivaling that of the more common angels who have their attribute more eased into battle-devoid hobbies.

Her joy peers through the roof as the place fills with people happily drink to her tone, couples, in particular, joined at the middle, branding her touch as a blessing, hearing the voice of a yearning maiden with someone in her sight.

Men brand the guess as a lucky one, women bestow luck in her attempt, all now departing with a piece of song lodged in their thoughts, happy to see it refill, though tomorrow would fall to a Saturday.

Drake himself was rather impressed with how quickly she became a singer of monumental caliber. Even as an angel, it was precious to behold.

To see her glide down the stage by her six wings spreading light and feathers close to her surrounding.

To see her join her hands while her delicate feet pace in a sprint toward him, a joy boundless on her expression.

The laughter steaming from her tone, pure at its highest.

To see her reach behind his nape in a surprising dexterity behind the flash of light pouring from her uncontrollable happiness.

"Wait, what are you--" To feel...to feel the sweet lips of an angel wrap around his with the strength of a warrior keeping the two of them in place. His voice falls on no ears but her deaf ones, conveying every ounce of gratitude in this physical act.

A strong will prompts Drake to make this first contact a fleeting one, just barely "Ok, exactly what was that?"

The valkyrie's eyes gain clarity from what looked like a spurn of overwhelming happiness. They frown briefly, shaking away this perception of being naught but impulsing acting. Focusing her hands around his nape, she whispers close to him "Gratitude". She merges her lips, as sweet as liquid nectar against his, this time, with greater intent.

As expected, it robs him of any resistance, allowing but the forward motion of his arms coiling around her diamond-hard waist softening to his touch, sinking his wrist deep.

Light spreads in their irises, rushing their co-joined minds to the clouds among buildings of gold and white. A sensation as real as it is make-belief.

One that lingers as they finally separate, radiating his senses in feelings more than mere physical gratification. High, all the way high to his heart and mind. A letter of love conveyed by her honeyed lips.

"Ohh, how grateful I am to have met someone like you~ She speaks with unbridled joy, held still by his arms around her waist, comfortable where it is "I can sing like my angelic counterparts, and just as sincerely. All thanks to your aid~

"W-well..." Drake still speaks in a slur, her kiss holding his comprehensible speech hostage "...I'm glad you managed to find your muse to sing".

"More than that. I've found my..." She turns around, cutting herself short "No, not here. Fairest companion, I bid you, would you be kind enough to allow me access to your domain tomorrow? I would like to properly express my gratitude".

"You want to pass around? S-sure, I think I can..." Having any experience with any kind of monster was a profound moment in a man. And Drake just found out how deep it could burrow.

"Excellent!" Her hands now move aside from his nape, joined in an un-warrior manner "Then I shall be here pronto tomorrow!~ Her eyes gain a sultry gaze as her head leans close to his, excited breathing warming his earlobe ~I'll have a gift for you by then~

Her entire self moves from him, moving away from the Precipice, hidden by the shroud of night. He was...stunned, to say the least. Left adrift in the empty theater, pondering about her 'gift'. He never thought a heavenly creature of all would be so in the rows of passion with someone unremarkable.

And yet...there she went, taking him in her arms, a kiss to commune with him of all people. A man with nothing special in him. Nothing more than a love for vocal songs.

"Nothing more than empathy, right?" The bartender approaches a plate in hand to grab the empty mugs.

"Huh?" Drake snaps how of his trance only now aware of the man ushering his closing hours "Hum...yea. How did you know that?"

"Ohh, I've seen that look often enough. Surprise. A surprise for some to realize they have more to offer than mere special prowess. I think miss Grendella just found yours".

"Grendella? So that her name".

"Of course. They're all so timid to speak out their names, but I'm used to that. She would have given it to you tomorrow anyway".

"Huh" Drake turns and walks away, leaving the man alone in his last task.

His whisper, inaudible to anyone "They are fond of handing out their names to those they seek to promise themselves to after all. Just like how I taught them..." --- "I guess you were right all along" Drake sits by the bar, filled to the brim with noisy patrons, some of them already advanced in their drunken states "First thing she did when arriving a...what was it, eight in the morning?"

"Not surprised" The barman continually rubs a mug with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Huh-uh..." Drake sports an unimpressed expression to meet the grin in balance "...anyway, she gave me her name. Standing by the window. Our hands joined in the middle under an everlasting clarity of the skies. She whispered it..."

"Grendella" The barman whispers her name like the most delicate word.

"Yea...just like that, she did. And then...this" Drake moves his hand upward from his pocket, a black box clenched in it. Two of his fingers plop the top open, revealing a ring.

A golden ring shining on the barman's eyes populated with an encrusted azure gem, small enough to avoid taking space on the gilded circle. Its presence is surrounded by two smaller gems in circle shapes.

A beautiful shine meeting the barman, prompting him for a subtle closing of eyes "Ahh, a marvel it is, good sir".

"Yes, it is" Drake plucks it from the box that held it, slowly observing it close to the eye, "She asked me to consider it before I insert it. I guess she didn't know my finger size, maybe?"

The barman leaves the mug and napkin by the side, a benign smile coating his expression, fervently watching the repeated comer insert the ring on his ring finger. His stare is a parental one "So...it finally happened".

"Ok, I don't know how she managed it, but it fits perfectly". Drake clenches his hand to a fist, all in the simple wish to observe the ring now adorned on his being. A beautiful luster meets him back, seemingly doubled in warmth. A warmth he didn't notice until now.

"Of course it would" The barman takes a hand under Drake's, his surprise lowering the clench to a soft standing. Unseen in his motion, the owner of the Precipice had his palm underneath the ring bearer's, his voice continuing on "They always do. Rings shaped by angels so rarely miss".

"You sound like you speak from experience" Drake feels his hand being only slightly pulled toward the barman, thinking it to be a mere attempt to observe.

"Grendella, my dear little warrior...you finally found the ears to hear you grow..." The barman's voice takes on a different pitch, a different tone. A warmer tone.

"Huh? So, did you know her--

"That would be an understatement, my young friend. So long she has been looking for someone. Finally able to leave that melancholy far behind her".

"Yea--wait, the way you're talking is kind of insinuating that--"

The barman puts his other hand on Drake, the whole surrounding seemingly fading t his eyes, eyes locked tot he barman whose voice had a heel turn. Affectionate, motherly. Another song entirely.

"To think your only mistake was to have loved your mother so much. Even when it was proven that her nemesis truly did harbor no malice. How I wish I could have taken all of this distrust, this wariness toward you and your sisters toward me".

"Wait, wait, wait. Mother? Sorry so say, friend, but you're speaking strangely. And your voice--"

"Instead of seeing so many of you in woes, hearts in starvation. So much difficulty finding someone. Sharing with someone. That is why you sought refuge in the bottle, is that right, Grendella?" The barman takes to the sky of cerulean. One golden tear falters from his eye, woefully in Jubilee.

"Seriously, you're speaking as if she was--" Drake was increasingly confused by his words, so alien to what his voice was before. As if he was talking to someone else.

"But, you have found a very kind man to sing to. Your light in this darkness. Mother is so proud of you..." His head lowers again, another gilded tear falling from his cheek, perfect in its design "...ohh, so proud. But, she has to go now. Your sisters are in need of guidance as well. They seek this very nectar of affection that you're finally embracing".

"Wait...seriously?! You're the...!" Drake couldn't believe it. Bad enough that he had tasted the honeyed lips of a valkyrie, a divine entity long said to be sent for but the most worthy of warriors and heroes. But now, it was all too obvious for him.

"Ok...so, I'm basically holding hands with the chief god. Ok, that's...that would have been fun to know. Lots of rectification I could have gone about knowing that".

A smile comes stretching to his side. A proud, maternal smile of a parent coming at the end of the judgment of a pretender "Ohh, if it's of any consolation, my dearest daughter is also unaware of my presence here. You needn't worry about any formalities, it wouldn't have been so genuine if my true presence was revealed".

"I mean...a hint would have been nice. All the rebuking I've been jousting with you, it's kind of an epiphany the size of a truck and--this ring I'm wearing, it's not just a gift, is it?"

"Oh, oh, quite the perceptive one, are we?" The barman brings Drake's ringed hand to his bosom, the most delicate of a smile on his face. So flawless it was that it couldn't be his. All the while the world around Drake was only now coming back. The noise, the sight, everything.

He turns his head sideways, a delicate voice wholly not of his own ~Please. Take good care of her. She is rather sensible in that spot~

"Take good care? Ohh, of course, I will--and you're not just talking about her well-being, are you?"

"My, oh my. Grendella, you such have managed to find a clever one~ The barman purrs with naught but wholesome encouragement, a feminine voice to his face.

"Ok, seriously, I did not know the chief god of all people would speak in 'double entendré' so much".

"Ohh, and don't you worry, kind son-in-law..." A wink from the barman leaving Drake's hand "Our deal still stands after my departure. Two free drinks at every visit".

"Really?" Drake's voice peels off his incredulous tone to a more familiar one "That...would be nice. But, you're not really going, right?"

"My duty to my little one is ended, kind man. She has someone to love her now. To bring untold happiness in her life. So many of her sisters are without a tender half".

"Of course!...of course" Drake looks to his ring, looking fondly at it, a promise in his soul.

"Ohh, you need not worry about being up to the task. I know you will bring her joy. But now, I must go. Next time you visit, someone else will be in my stead at this humble place".

"Yea..." Drake sighs heavily, knowing he now had someone waiting at home. He couldn't be any more happy to feel her touch by this simple ring, his reluctance to take to the bottle ever more heightened. These two free he'd get would become one, as the other now belonged to Grendella every time they converged at the Precipice. For her to sing. For him to listen among a crowd. For them to giggle and whisper among other joined individuals.

An edict that has remained true since to this day, carrying her through the storm of night winter. Her eyes, filled with the boundless love of a wife, waiting to demonstrate this affection at home the same way monsters did before them...