![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
polarissrulerTitle: A Drunkrad's Fairy Tale
Fandom: Baccano!
Characters: Isaac Dian, Miria Harvent (mentioned)
Pairings: Past Isaac/Miria
Warning: Alcohol Abuse, Referenced Character Death
Summary: He always set there, in the furthest corner of the bar.Out of all people that knew his story, no one shared it. Ask him, they all said. What is he hiding?
He sat there again, at the edge. Alone, ducked in the furthest corner. Had he ever left the bar? Every night he had already sat by the time I came and always left after me. Time to find out.
"Good evening." I sat on the chair next to him.
His dull blue eyes looked at me. "Good, if you say." He took a large gulp from his drink. It stank worse than acid fumes. "If you want the money, I can't pay right now." With another gulp, he emptied the glass and hit the bar with it. "Tomorrow, maybe. At the worst, next week."
"No, I'm not here for that."
He looked away. "What, then? No -" he waved a hand in front of his face, as if he would dispel me "- you work for them, huh?" Waving to the barman - was he going to ask for another drink? - he sighed. "The story - you are going to ask about it, aren't you? Not the happiest ending, I warn you." His face - in a sluggish movement - tried to frown and smile at the same time.
The barman poured another glass of the strange drink, his hand covering the label.
"S-sorry." I stumbled. What was I thinking? As I turned to leave, the man finally spoke.
"Once upon a time, there lived a girl with skin silkier than silver and hair as beautiful as gold." He did not look at me. His arms extended forward as if he was hugging someone. Only the air over the glass hung in front of him. "She lived in a mansion tall and gray with a roof that reached the storms and windows locked. Every day she used to look through them and every night she would pray, ‘Oh, I want to leave! I want the world! Through this black glass, I never see the truth.'
"One tempestuous night, when stars silver shone, the girl stood by her bed. Dressed like a princess, the lady held a bottle of strychnine. ‘My body may lie here, but my spirit shall be free.' Before she could take the fateful jump, a king stormed in her room (a thief in truth).
"‘Oh, my lovely maiden,' spoke he as they met, ‘I must plunder your riches; I am sorry for that. I am a criminal - the worst kind of scum. I steal, destroy, pillage, and burn. I have chosen this life, and I shall follow my choice! You shall be robbed by a genius! You should rejoice!' The criminal bowed - an air of theater man.
"A smile graced the girl's lips and laughter bloomed. Her eyes sparkled like topazes, for the first time - cheerful; for the first time - bright. ‘Mister Thief,' she asked with a gracious smile, ‘will you bother to teach me your elegant style?' She took his hand - her silver fingers, like a chain, bound the criminal's heart. ‘I shall stay by your side. I shall do as you ask. I want to leave - you are my chance!'
"So I… He, I mean! How could he be me? He and the woman together chose to be. Always by each other's side, always in tandem. The pair together plundered all they could find - watches (for more time), chocolates (they food needed). Each other's side they swore never to leave - an oath most heavy, most ancient, most binding."
The man stopped his fairy tale to look at his watch - a cheap plastic, far older than him. The hands had stopped; it stood stuck at twenty to two.
I pushed my chair back and stood up. "Maybe it is time for me to leave…"
He continued his fable - either he did not care about my opinion, or he could not care less that he was telling himself the story. The painter's masterful strokes drew over the bland bar and the gray curtain of smoke that hung in the air.
"Many new friends they made, many people they saved. Criminals at the start, they sought redemption. For their sins - punishment, for their souls - salvation. Always two, as they say in the tales. Wherever they went, they happiness spread. And laughed the woman and smiled the man - day after day after day after day. Who could catch them - that famous stealing duo; those charming, fabulous, genius fools? Although some say they relied too much on their second soul, on their other half.
"On one night blustery, the sky bloody and black, all their journeys came to an end. The train drove onward, the locomotive - beast - roared wild and powerful while stars were sleeping. Miria - the woman with sliver-like skin - asked, 'Hey Isaac, what is the monster's name - of Dr. Frankenstein's fame?' And I - er, Isaac - answered with honest ‘I don't know.' Betrayed, rejected, again alone, silver fingers freed Isaac's hand. The chain broke. Miria left. And so it's done, and so it ends - Miria and Isaac's infamous quest."
"It could not end like this, right?" Isaac had stopped speaking. I had to reply, I had to keep the conversation! "What happened to Miria? Why are you here?"
"Don't know. Never met her again." The storyteller had died with the tale. Isaac took another gulp of his paint thinner spirits. "Not the happiest ending, I know."
"Why did you let it, then?" I could not believe a story would end like that. "You should have looked for her."
Isaac shrugged. "I did. Everywhere in this world - from Tokyo to Washington, I had not stopped looking for her. Only a few years ago, I surrendered. She was nowhere - I could feel it."
"Few years? But you are… -"
"What? So young? Everybody tells me that. You've been coming here often. For the past few years, have you seen a single difference?"
"Imposs…" I choked, the strange alcohol stench not helping. "Not even one." No wrinkle broke the man's face, not a single gray hair. His eyes - the same dull blue.
"She has died. You cannot." I fell on the barstool next to the man.
"I told you - not the happiest ending."
Before I could ask anything else, the man had already ordered yet another disgusting drink.
