I can't get the blog to indent, I apologize for a distinct lack of paragraph breaks.

Plain text version here

Sight
Karly Noelle Abreu

Valentine put the thread in her mouth the, one eye closed, pushed it through the eye of the needle. She tied it in a knot and plunged it into the coat. She began stitching quickly, absentmindedly. She looked up at the man leaning against her wall. She opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by the chiming of the Clock. It only sounded four times, and she didn’t take her eyes off of him. Her eyebrows raised slightly.
“I don’t know how you live there, Clock tower Man.”
He rolled his eyes and thumped the floor with the edge of his boot.
“The day you call me Silas I’ll be struck by lightening.”
“One can only hope, Clock tower Man.”
He frowned. “Just shut up and sew.”
She bit the edge of the thread and held up the coat. It had once been a stylish Western coat, in ages past, and now it was a tattered mess of patches of every texture and pattern. The majority of them were dark green or grey, but here and there something brighter would pop out if you looked hard enough. There was a hood on it lined in fluffy grey fur.
“I’d say good as new, but I think you’ve had it since you were born.”
She tossed it to him.
“Thank you, love.”
“Yep.”
The man slipped into the coat. It was like a second skin. He was almost never seen without it. In her more whimsical moments Valentine wondered if he was compensating with his flamboyant coat for his complete lack of hair. Silas Anhaven- the Clock tower Man-was a singular character. He was thirty-one years old, and had his features been less sharp, he would have been very handsome. His head was kept completely hairless, save his dark eyebrows; somehow favoring his overdone features, his build was lean and muscular. He had a graceful but very masculine way of moving that, like his features, was over the top, and he grinned in a way that made many women weak.
Valentine, due to proximity, was immune. She eyed him haughtily. “I notice you haven’t left.”
“I just wanted to see if you’d take me up on my offer.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What offer?”
“Marry me.”
“I would rather die.”
“I can arrange that. Would you prefer suffocation or a good hanging?”
Valentine stood and began walking towards the kitchen.
“And a lovely funeral. Lots of crying,” he called after her.
Valentine poked her head back into the main room. “We’re out of tea.”
Silas grinned and seated himself across Valentine’s bed. “You look down on my profession, sure. But when you need tea it’s ‘Silas, darling, be a dear and mug someone for their tea.’” He leaned back dramatically. “Then ‘take me Silas, take me swiftly for I grow faint with longing!’”
“I’ll let you know the day I feel like that,” she replied in a frosty tone. She reached up and pulled a blackened Western pot from a shelf that leaned over the stove.
“Please do,” Silas leaned up. “Your bed smells nice.”
Valentine rolled her eyes and filled the pot with fresh well-water from the basin. Her house was planted firmly in the northern part of East Clocktown, near the Forest. It was one of the oldest parts of the East, tucked in a far corner away from the bustle of the market, and the noise of the day. The Forest near the edge was quiet and calm. Its residue poured over her house though, like a force of energy she could tap into whenever she pleased. Magic did not really work like that, the Forest bestowed power on whoever it pleased, but it felt concentrated in her little log and mortar dwelling.
“Where’s your brother?”
Silas had come up behind her and she felt his breath against her neck. The kitchen was too small for both of them.
Valentine’s eyes glowed a pale red, perhaps pink.
“He’s not here,” she said softly. She tapped the pot and it began to steam. Silas backed away.
“Give me a warning before you do that, will you?” Silas attempted a hurt tone.
Valentine’s eyes snapped back to liquid black.
“I’m sorry, did I burn you?” She asked sweetly.
He stared at her, point-blank. “Yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Valentine said, perfectly sincere.
Silas plunged on, “What, you’re not going to kiss it better?”
She slapped him. Her hand still blazed with heat.
“That seemed uncalled for,” Silas said evenly, rubbing his face.
She took a string of dried vegetables down from the ceiling and started throwing them into the pot with abandon.
“But you didn’t answer me,” Silas continued
“I refuse,” she replied, continuing her secret ritual with the pot and vegetables
“Do you even remember the question?” When the woman did not reply, he continued, “Romulus. Where is he?”
“I said he wasn’t here.”
“Yeah, so?”
“He’s wherever he wants to be. He’ll be back soon. He likes seeing you.”
“Well, who wouldn’t?”
“Me.”
Silas stared into the pot distastefully. “What on earth are you making?”
“Soup.”
“I’ve had soup a fair few times in life. I would measure my soup intake in gallons. And that is not soup. It’s... Water and plant-life.”
“I’m not done, Clock tower Man.”
“I certainly hope not,” he crossed his arms and loomed over her shoulder.
“Look, are you planning on keeping up this banter all night?”
“Um... Yes?”
She forcefully pushed him into the main room.
“Stay off of my bed.”
Valentine turned back to her mysterious confection in the kitchen. She stared hard at it, then peered around the corner at Silas, who buried himself in her pillows.
“Some milk would be nice as well,” she said.
“I’ll make a shopping list, shall I?”
Valentine returned her attention to the pot. “I’d prefer you get it from the market. The Western stuff is ridiculous. Where do they even raise animals to get milk?”
“The mayor’s house, I swear on my life.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s a sight I’d love to see.”
“I could show you, but then you’d have to pay me in favors of questionable morality.”
Valentine tried to hide her grin, saying, “I thought the West didn’t have mayors anymore, I remember that being all over the hospital district.”
“Yeah, but they still have one. No one even remembers what he’s supposed to be called. Most people just call him the mayor. I call him very flimsy.”
“Oh you say that about everyone in power. Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Valentine waved the spoon at him.
Silas smiled good-naturedly. “He does have an awful lot of hair.”
Valentine opened up the little wooden cupboard in the corner, and her eyes wandered over it. She reached out and grabbed a few bottles.
“If you are so concerned, you could always find him,” She caught herself. “Romulus, I mean.”
Silas ran a hand across the top of his head. “Too weak right now.”
“Huh. A man who admits to being weak? Shocking,” she mocked
“What is that supposed to mean? I am perfectly honest.” Silas started bouncing his left leg. It made the bed rattle.
“Except in making a living?” Valentine had laced this question with poison before shooting it off.
Silas just kept smiling. “Naturally.”

It was at this point that the subject of this roundabout discussion came into the front room. Romulus never entered a house. He entered a room. He was nonchalant about it, and inhabited so little, and opened and closed doors so quickly and silently, that he simply appeared. As to being outside, well it was theorized, but never confirmed. Considering the lack of rooms aside from the main one, the kitchen, and the back room, it seemed a likely choice.
Silas turned and noticed him. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Romulus repeated.
“Oh.”
Valentine peered around the corner. “I’m hearing a lot of ‘oh’s.”
Romulus nodded. “Indeed.”
“Oh, indeed,” Silas agreed emphatically.
“No, just indeed,” Romulus insisted.
“Indeed,” Valentine agreed.
Silas sat up and stared hard at the part of Valentine visible through the doorway. “You have no say in this, it’s a man-to-man conversation.”
“You suddenly became a man?” Valentine said, moving her mysterious bottles over the pot.
Silas turned to look at Romulus. “She always acts like this as soon as you come in. I tell you, before you come in, it’s nothing but sweet nothings.”
“So... A lot of nothing?”
Romulus was quick. He was also incredibly sweet about it. You could never think of Romulus as mean, even if he struck like a snake. He had an aura of sweetness that sort of melted you, like sugar candy. He and Silas were friends, and both of them knew it, but it was expressed in a lot of cryptic comments and rhetorical questions. To an outsider, it was like a brand new language.
“So Romy, what were you up to? Your dear sister was killing herself over where you were.”
“I was doing disreputable things,” Romulus replied.
Silas of course, knew this was inherently not true. Romulus was twenty-two, five years younger than his sister, but could have been placed at any age between fifteen and twenty-five. He and Valentine looked quite a bit alike. They both had dark eyes that never gave way between pupil and iris, and similarly dark hair, and strong noses and high cheekbones. But Valentine sat firmly in humanity, on the attractive-but-not-in-a-hurry-to-prove-it side; whereas something about her brother suggested otherworldly. It was not that he was particularly more attractive than anyone else. He was not unattractive either- he was the sort of person you looked at and forgot instantly. His whole mode of operation was somewhat enigmatic. But there was nothing even moderately sinister in his nature. Perhaps a bit distant, perhaps a bit less naive than his far-off look would suggest, but nothing dark.
Silas shrugged. “Well, it’s not my business.”
Romulus looked at him. “What is your business here, exactly?”
Silas decided to try honesty. “Ripped the coat.”
Romulus nodded sagely. He understood about the coat. In the kitchen Valentine stifled a yelp. Silas looked up quickly. He turned his gaze to Romulus. A small stream of blood ran down his left pinky finger. He held it up and looked at it. “Ouch.”
Valentine came into the room, with a strip of cloth wrapped around her own left pinky finger.
“Sorry, Rom, did that hurt?”
He shrugged. “Be more careful with the knives.”
Silas was also familiar with this. Many Easterners were granted a special power, a gift from the Forest. There were different levels of it, but only one was given to each person. Romulus appeared to have the power to feel nearly any strong sensations his sister felt. Silas did not know the extent of this ability, and he tried not to follow the line of thought to a rational conclusion. It was a very Western thing to do, on top of being a very creepy line to follow.
“So, Silas,” Romulus said, looking at him while Valentine wrapped a strip of cloth around his finger. “You’re staying for dinner?”
“I think sister dear might try to poison me.”
Valentine looked up at her brother, “I make no promises.” She stood. “But if you wanna keep him so bad, I suppose a dog in the house for a while won’t be too bad.”
“Ah, young love,” Silas murmured.
A smile played on Romulus’ mouth. Valentine just turned and headed towards the kitchen. “It couldn’t be, since you’re so old.”
Silas fell back as if wounded. “Oh, sweet agony. Take me away.”
“And don’t come back,” Valentine called.
Romulus sat at the table nearby, and motioned for Silas to join him. The look on his face was serious.
“Could I ask you to See something for me?” he asked quietly.
“You could. What is it?”
“The foxes.”
Silas frowned. “Forest creatures? I suppose I could try, it gets unclear, though, you know that.”
“Just try, please.” His face was still passive, but there was an undertone of desperation in Romulus’ voice.
Silas raised his eyebrows. “What, right now?”
“Well, yes.”
Silas ran his hand across the top of his head. “I’m too weak right now.”
Romulus imperceptibly shook his head. “How can that be? You’re here at the edge.”
“Trust me, I know when I can See and when I cannot.”
“Please, when you can, please tell me.”
“I will, I swear to you.”
Just as this conversation was finished, Valentine came into the room, and tapped on the edge of the doorway with the wooden spoon.
“Come and get it,” she said. “I’m not serving.”
She went back into the kitchen and exited with the full bowl of soup and sat at the table across from Silas. Romulus stood and went to get his own, and Valentine mouthed, What were you talking about?
Silas shook his head and put his finger over his lips, then mouthed later. Romulus returned and Silas got his own soup. Once they were all seated, they chatted playfully, but Valentine kept looking nervously at her brother. Dinner ended and Romulus excused himself, looking meaningfully at Silas. A few minutes passed in silence as Silas and Valentine cleared the table, then she turned to him.
“What did he want?” her face was fearful.
“He just wanted me to See something. I told him I’m too weak.”
She widened her eyes. “ “But you’re not. Your sight is very powerful here.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You can’t lie to him. He knows you’re lying!” she hissed.
“I cannot do it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He sighed and straightened. “Both.” He sat down on the edge of Valentine’s bed.
“I’ve been too weak lately, only seeing things in flashes. I wouldn’t be able to see what he wants to begin with and even if I could, I’m not comfortable doing this. He wants me to find the foxes.”
“In the Forest?”
“Yes, of course in the Forest, where else do you find foxes?”
She shook her head. “But why would he want that?”
“I’ve no idea. Do you think anything could be wrong with him,V?”
She looked at him. Valentine had practically raised Romulus. Due to their connection, they were always close, and their parents had died when they were still young. When Silas was with his mother, who was an Easterner, he visited them. They hadn’t been badly off, the whole community had taken care of them, but Valentine had become extremely protective of her brother, fearing for his safety above all else.
“Well no, I mean, I don’t think so. He was acting normal. I mean, for him,” she replied. “Did you- see something? About him?”
He shook his head. “Hard to say.”
“Please, don’t be mysterious for once, Please.”
“The sight is blurry, I just feel as though something is not right with Romy.”
“Please, if you see anything clear, let me know, Clock tower man, ”she had grasped his wrist.
He smiled at her. “I’ll try, okay, love?”
He shrugged, as if to remove the heaviness from the room. Seeing the anxiety on her face, Silas raised his eyebrows.
“Now, love, how about my auspicious offer?”
She simply crossed her arms, still looking worried. “Marrying you?”
“It’s not everyday a man can offer to make all of your dreams come true,” he flashed a grin.
She bit the lure, changing her expression with some effort. “I... I already gave you my answer. A quick steady death. And I would prefer it with a knife.”
“By your own hand or mine?”
“Whichever is faster, Clock tower man.”
He put a hand on the doorway, and prevented her from moving. “I’d prefer my hand, I long to have your flesh under mine.”
“There was no possible way to say that appealingly.”
He leaned towards her, and pressed his lips against hers. In response she placed her hands against the small of his back, beneath his coat, and he pulled away, quietly cursing.
She clinched her hand which was blazing with channeled heat, smiling.
“You still do not have me, Clock tower man.”
“I’m confident that will change one day.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
When she looked back at him, his posture had locked up, and his eyes glowed a pearly white.
“The Forest has always been hard to see into as it is, but to lock onto a whole colony of creatures...” he said to no one in particular.
“You don’t have to do this to impress me, Clock tower Man. And you said you were too weak.” 
“Now, love, even I’m wrong sometimes, and anyway, I’m not doing this for you, I did, in fact, make a promise to your brother.”
Silas’ sight was a peculiar thing, a gift unlike anything the East had ever encountered, certainly not like anything Valentine had ever seen. He could see events currently, at great distances, or events in the future at relatively short ones. The further the distance in space or time, the more physical energy his power took from him. She saw his skin going pale as he kept searching for the fox colony in the Forest. Then all at once his eyes returned to normal and he fell backwards. Valentine caught him just before he hit the floor, and propped his head up with her pillow, deciding against laying him in her lap. She waited for him to awaken, and tidied up the room, attempting nonchalance. He blinked his eyes open after a moment.
“Now that, was an experience.”
“Don’t die, Clock tower Man,” she said, handing him a cup of water.
“Do I detect a note of concern in your voice?”
“I just don’t want to have to haul your body out. You’re pretty heavy. I told you not to do it.”
“As I recall, you told me to do so, most emphatically.”
“What did you see?”
He sat up. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“It’s a peculiar thing, it’s as if the entire colony simply vanished.”
“Do you think they could be in the Dark Forest?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell, love. I know you are under the impression my powers are boundless, and in many areas you are correct, but sight has limitations.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, you think Rom knows something about this?”
“Probably, but never you fear, regardless of what happens to a lot of rabid dogs, I plan on staying right here.”
He leaned towards her legs. “Actually right about here, little closer perhaps.”
In the distance, the Clock tower began to sound out the hour.
She hit the side of his head with her knee. “You’re never worried about anything, are you, Silas?”
He grinned. “Never. And you used my name, love.”
He stood up, dusting off his coat.
“I was only hoping you’d be struck by lightning.”
“Perhaps next time,” he said, taking her hand. He bowed like a practiced Western gentleman.
“Until then, Valentine, fair.”
“Be seeing you,” she said.

Silas left Valentine’s house. A few feet away, her brother stood, staring up into the Forest trees. Silas noticed him, paused for a moment and watched him. Romulus did not move. Silas shrugged and kept on walking.
“Tea,” he mumbled to himself. “The lady must have tea.”
It was cold, and the Clock tower was still resounding. So much to do. So much to do. He buttoned his coat and headed towards the West.