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Man... who is worthy to gaze upon you, and, um...” he tailed off. “Fuck me in whichever hole you don’t?” she suggested sweetly. He swallowed again - the wobbly throat thing really was quite off-putting - but said nothing. He took a pace backwards, bowed low, straightened and turned. She saw him take a deep breath before walking uncertainly out of the door, headed for the main room. Well, she thought, that gets rid of him. She drained her glass and turned to the bar, but there was no one there. She took a quick look around. There were only a few people in the small room, mostly sat at low tables, talking. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. She clambered up onto her stool and vaulted one-handed over the bar, the many layers of her dress whirling around her as she landed gracefully and made for the staff door. She pushed it open and found herself in a dim, bare-brick corridor. The door swung softly shut behind her, and she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. . Raion had treated this springtime as a new beginning, a chance to finally complete the myriad of ideas and plans that had been abandoned as utterly as He had been. It had taken three years for Him to reach some form of peace, month after month of slow separation from the void, a retreat caused by nothing more than His untimely and unexpected continuation. Yet even in peace the echo of loneliness reverberated around His consciousness unendingly. He was at best a communicator, on average a teacher and at worst a principle. He finally stood alone in His belief that there was no life without total commitment and the realization of His singular existence condemned Him to purgatory. Distance is measurable in many ways. Two places on a map with a scale, two points on a sheet of paper with a ruler, but how does one measure the distance between two people? Raion felt Sakura move away steadily over the days, measured that movement in the only way He could, with the growing lonely erratic.
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