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“Here, this is for you. You’re welcome. Have you by any chance seen a girl that looks like this?”
“Oh, greetings Miss Mesmer! Have you seen…”
“No, I’m all right. Actually, have you seen?… No?… O-okay, thank you…”
“Miss Kakania! Do you know where she is? A-alright, thank you…”
“I’m sorry, but there is no need for screaming… No, we don’t have a solution… I’m sorry…”
Ezra quietly sighed as he left another room, his tray now empty. Another routine thing done… Not that it matters much. It’s better than doing nothing, and it’s definitely better than locking up inside a room and ignoring everyone. Still, he feels a bit… pessimistic. He can’t really be hopeful that everything will be alright like he was in the beginning, because now… There are only a few days left before the Storm comes, the Foundation no longer has any protection against it and the chance that some sort of help will arrive and save them all… is close to zero.
But there are more important things to worry about. Their food supply is running a bit short, some researchers are going crazy, more and more fights are happening… and no one has seen Spathodea. They had an argument where both of them had said some hurtful things, and then she started screaming before abruptly leaving and… well, he can’t find her now. Yesterday it was fine, he thought it would be better if he gave her some space and time to think, but it’s been a day and she completely disappeared. He is starting to worry, worry that something might have happened, worried that he will find her already-
No, no, he shouldn’t think like this. He should try and be… positive, yes! At least, that what he tells himself as he enters the canteen. It became a sort of command centre, and most of the people who are not doing anything but didn’t fully succumb to despair are here. Of course, the Foundation building has a proper command centre, but everyone has some sort of bad memory associated with it… and it also has a few holes in the roof now.
X and Medicine Pocket are in the same position as when he left – the former with a bored look on his face and a cup of unidentified liquid(It’s black, so it’s either coffee or tea, but he could never tell which one it is) and the latter with his head resting on his arms. When he greets them, one raises a hand and the other mumbles something. It’s a bit ironic, he thinks. There is no one to regulate them or control their experiments, but they simply sit at one of the tables and do nothing. They still help when needed, but their eyes are dim and there is no spark behind them. Not that he is doing much better – he hasn’t even been to his lab since the chaos started. He is sure the terrarium is sustaining the mushrooms(If it wasn’t all destroyed, that is), but he can’t bring himself to go back there and do something. At the very least, he now has some sort of a goal. To find and apologize to Spathodea. Not really concrete, and it won’t help people here in any way, but it’s not like anything they do will… and it would be a shame if their last time seeing each other was an argument where they hurt each other. He doesn’t think he was wrong – they are doomed, and nothing that they can do will save them. Maybe it’s just the logical thinking that comes from being a researcher or maybe he is just apathetic, but maybe if he worded himself better, or maybe if he didn’t start the conversation in the first place, Spathodea would be here instead of god knows where.
She must be hungry as well, he muses. She wasn’t in the cafeteria since morning, and there isn’t any food laying around the halls as far as he knows. He has… had a special container assigned to him, as there were a lot of people that enjoyed his fungi-related cooking and so he always kept some ready for future. This is probably the last chance to use it, he idly thinks as he takes the bag of beech mushrooms from it. He also prepares two cups of mushroom coffee… the fact that it takes less beans to prepare it is a blessing, as he is pretty sure there won’t be any coffee left soon, for too many people use it as a coping mechanism.
Nobody notices him leaving, which is not a surprise. He doesn’t have a route planned out – the Foundation is massive, and Spathodea could be anywhere. So he just goes randomly, not paying any attention to his surroundings or the passage of time. The thoughts, as always, worm their way into his brain. About how meaningless it truly is, to die without accomplishing anything. He was almost ready with another exhibition at the museum, and he almost finished cultivating a rare type of fungi that could be used in medicine and food, and he promised to come visit Avgust in his home town and now none of it really matters because he is going to die. Soon, really, maybe he won’t even return back to others before the Storm hits, or maybe he will stumble upon another corpse, but this time it will be Spathodea's-
This thought makes him snap out of his mind and look around. He wearily blink as he tries to process his surrounding. It’s a bit hard, given how he didn’t sleep for the past few days(sleep didn’t really help with relaxing or resting anymore, and with so little time left it felt like a waste of precious hours) but he manages to figure out that he is somewhere on the top floors. He hasn’t been here before, but one amazing decision of the Foundation staff was to put a map in every corridor, so it was impossible to really get lost. He mindlessly opens one of the doors and walks inside a spacious room. It was probably a place for meetings or something of the sort, but now one of the walls is completely destroyed, and it allows for a wonderful view of the outside. It’s raining, because of course it is, but the roof, or rather what remains of it, shelters him somewhat. He sits down at the edge and swings his legs in the air. It’s dangerous, but he doesn’t really care. It provides him with a weird feeling… of freedom, maybe? The wind blows at his face, and the raindrops quickly soak most of his clothing, but he feels oddly at peace. There wasn’t any strength left in him to worry or care because of his exhaustion, and the view outside was really nice, if a bit gloomy and dark.
He isn’t sure how much time has passed, but there is a sudden sound behind him and he whips his head around to see Spathodea walking in. She doesn’t say anything, instead simply joining him and gazing off into the distance. He can see in her eyes that she is thinking about something, and she opens her mouth as if to say something but immediately closes it every time. In the end, she settles on a single word.
“Hi.”
“Hello.”
“I just… noticed you sitting here. From down below. – Her voice is steady and cautious, as if she isn’t sure what to expect from him. – I… decided to join you.”
“I see.” – He looks to the side and notices his bag on the ground where he dropped it earlier. Right.
“Are you… hungry? Here.” – He gives her the bag, and she hesitates for a moment before taking it. She looks inside it for a few moments, contemplating. Her stomach grumbles, and she seems to take it a sign to give up whatever mental battle she was having and starts eating.
He returns to looking at the horizon as she eats quietly beside him. He knows he should break the silence and say something, but he can’t really bring himself to do it. His mind is still tired and can’t focus on a specific assignment, so he just blankly stares, allowing thoughts to pass through his mind without really paying attention to any of them.
“Here.”
Startled, Ezra looks in her direction. She offers him a cup with an outstretched hand, and he can’t help but notice that it is slightly shaking. Right, he did prepare two cups, and he knows that he has dark eyebags, and she probably worries about his wellbeing.
“Thank you.”
He takes the cup with both hands because he can’t trust himself with not spilling it, especially since it’s still warm due to the special material provided by Laplace that allows liquids to keep their temperature for up to 48 hours. He takes a sip, hot coffee burning his throat as it flows through to the stomach. He isn’t sure whether it’s the burn or the energizing effect of coffee, but he feels more awake. He rapidly blinks his eyes, and the world seems a bit brighter now. His thoughts are clearer and he can finally think of more than two words at a time.
“Hey. I’m… um… sorry. For what I said back then.”
“I’m sorry too. I know I shouldn’t have screamed, I just… – Her voice is soft and trembles at the end, and she takes another sip of her coffee as well as a deep breath before continuing. – I’m scared. Of dying. If I get reincarnated again, I will have to live my life without you. Without Vertin and everyone else too, without my friends or parents or boxing or my career or the Uluru Games that we just revived and I will know that it all ended like this… Without any meaning. Just… ended, and I lost everything, the life where I had everything I could ever wish for… But also I… I don’t want to forget you. I’m not sure if it is worse, to be reincarnated and to forget everything I had experienced before… ”
“Oh, I… see.” – It takes him a bit to process everything said. He isn’t sure how to respond. He wants to tell her that everything will be alright, but he knows that it’s a lie. A sweet, but such a foul lie. He couldn’t bring himself to say it anyway. He remembers the lesson that Desert Flannel taught him – that he doesn’t know fully the problems other people are facing, but he can still try to relate and place himself in their place. He never thought of such a problem, but he was never a reincarnator… or an arcanist for that matter. Still, if he was in such a situation, and the person he was about to lose forever said about how meaningless everything now is and how doomed they are and how it's not worth trying do fix anything…
“Sorry. For… saying that it was meaningless… like that.”
“But… you weren’t wrong, right? There is no hope left for us, so why should we bother with doing something to try and save us…”
It is right. They checked the results a hundred times by now, and the Storm is coming, and the Foundation building won't protect them. Still, he doesn’t like how her voice is hollow and how he can see tears gathering in her eyes. He wants to help, but he isn’t sure he is able – not in such circumstances anyway.
“I know. But… hearing it from me… like that… must have been terrible. I… understand.”
“Really?” – her eyes are focused on him, analysing, and he knows that she is right in doubting him.
“Maybe. At least I think so. I hope I do. At least to some extent I… – he sets his cup on the ground and extends a hand towards her. – Understand how you feel.”
She looks at him a bit longer, contemplating. She hesitantly takes his hand, and then the tears start flowing and now he is holding her as she cries into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and gently rubs circles into her back. His mouth opens and he says something, but he isn’t sure what it is. Maybe it’s the stereotypical “I’m here”, or maybe it’s just a soothing sound. It’s definitely not “It’s okay” because he knows it isn’t. It doesn’t really matter, because Spathodea said once before that she doesn’t really listen to what is said, she fully focuses on the touch. She said the most comforting thing for her was someone she trusted touching her. Holding her. Because then she can feel the warm skin against her. She knows that she is alive, and the one important to her is as well. That she is secure.
So he tried to provide it for her whenever needed. When she started doubting if she is really fit to host the Uluru Games in the middle of the night, or when she had an argument with someone and got emotional or was feeling sick and threw up because she was ill or ate or drank too much of something. He did it even when he didn’t agree with her and thought she was in the wrong, because he couldn’t handle it when she was distraught. He’d hold her until she calms down and then they sleep until the morning comes and they can talk properly. It’s more or less the same now, really, except there isn’t anything to look forward to, so they can spend as much time as they want like this. He is ready to spend the whole time they have left holding her while she cries if needed.
Ezra isn’t sure how much time has passed… again. Spathodea has calmed down and slowly disentangles herself. The heavy rain is still present, but it’s not as dark outside as before. Probably means that the sun had risen and it’s morning. Spathodea lets out a few more sobs, but their hips are still touching and their hands are still intertwined, so he knows it means that she more or less stabilised. Her free hand reaches to her forgotten cup and she drink the rest of the coffee while looking awkwardly to the side. He should probably make some more – at the very least, he will have less of a chance to randomly collapse. And maybe they should do something while he still has some energy left.
“Flammy? You have never visited me at work before, right?”
“Um… I don’t think I did… – Her cheeks are a bit puffy and red from crying, but there is a spark of curiosity in her eyes. – Why?"
“I just thought that I could show you around my lab. Or my dorm room here… or both. If you want to.”
He is aware that it is meaningless. He knows she is also aware of that. But maybe this way she will feel less sad if she reincarnates and remembers everything, or maybe it will simply distract them for a little while. It seems to be enough of a reason, so they they stand up with shaky legs, still holding to each other, and go to do another meaningless thing until the Storm inevitably comes and takes them away.