After the Well

"Having fun yet?"

Although he had a talent for sneaking up on them, Nir didn't find Chronas's voice to be surprising. It had a deep familiarity to it instead, the ring of distant bells in a far-off memory, so foreign yet so rich with promise. Each time Nir would linger with the thought before shaking it off, their ears flattening with distaste.

"It's always been hard to tell with you." The satyr settled into the other wicker chair at Nir's table, casting his gaze over the lounge's picturesque view. It had popped up as quickly as the rest of the Starwell's faire, but even a cheap place to sit under the leaves was better than hot sand at midday. "But you're still here, so you must have found something. And I don't think it's fishing."

"I met a friend." Nir stared steadfastly at their drink, watching their talonfish attempt to get its wispy jaws around the umbrella poking out of the cup. They weren't sure what made them speak; it would have been better to stonewall this guy, but the words trickled through.

They didn't have to look up to picture Chronas's wry smile. "That satyr girl? Friends, right. What's her name?"

A pause. They plucked the umbrella from their drink, playing an absent game of tug of war with the little talonfish, its body translucent in the dappled sunlight.

".... Uh huh. And I doubt she picked up yours."

"Why do you care?"

Chronas turned to look at the astrean at that. Nir was finally staring him down, brow knit in a subtle consternation. That it was showing at all meant he had struck a nerve.

"Because," he replied, his airy tone suddenly gravid, "nobody in this crowd knows who you are." He reached out to the arbor that shaded them from above, carding through the leaves and blooms of a nearby pillar to pluck a lush, pink flower. It was the size of his palm, glittering with an unnatural dew, certainly the effects of whatever decorator had put this place together. "You're a common face to them, nothing more. And I can't bear to think that that's all you'll ever be--even you don't know what all you've done."

It was cryptic, as always. Nir had thus far spurned Chronas's efforts to tell them of some distant past, but every time it was harder to deny. The sensation of a smooth tail twining with their own snapped them out of the dizzying whirl of doubts, drawing their eyes back to Chronas, who held the pink bloom aloft.

"You've seen and done things this world wouldn't believe." He was taking Nir's hand now, placing the bloom into their palm. "All of that knowledge and experience, locked away inside you.... If you'd only let me show you. I understand you. You wouldn't have to be alone like this."

The sunset-pink petals were soft against their fingertips--but something cold smeared against their palm. They pulled the flower up to reveal a black streak, the base of the thing already turning to rot from Chronas's touch. It was as if a glass pane had been cracked: the warm breeze and glossy sheen of the day seemed to fracture, leaving Nir suddenly cold in the shade, the fur along their neck standing on end from some nagging memory that threatened to tear loose from the pit of their stomach. They stood suddenly, the bloom flopping to the table, the black rot stark against their white fur. "I can't--I don't--I--" The words tumbled over each other, even Nir themself unsure what they were trying to say. It was a lost cause, easily given up as they whirled around to hurry away, the distant sound of waves suddenly deafening in their ears.

Chronas watched in silence. Nir had long vanished around a corner when the bemused bartender wandered over to the table; Chronas paid the astrean's bill with a roll of his eyes, picking up the hardly-touched glass to finish off himself. At his elbow the talonfish continued gnawing on its umbrella prize, but when he made eye contact with it, it froze mid-bite.

"Well?" All pretense of tropical relaxation had evaporated from the satyr as he glared expectantly down at the little phantom. "Don't you have a job to do?"

If it had hands, the talonfish might have given a clumsy salute. Instead it settled for an awkward little hop before flinging itself from the table, darting between the feet of other patrons as it followed the trail of its astrean master.

Chronas leaned back in the wicker chair, swirling the last of Nir's over-sweet drink thoughtfully. Go easier next time, it was decided.