Winter is Winter

A Chapter by Shaibelle

Earliest written short about Winter.

Winter was a man always smiling- even over the simple call of a bird, the laugh of a child, the wind on his face, and especially in the presence of a lady. His happiness always seemed slightly out of place and awkward, you never missed it. The man’s overflowing personality was all-encompassing to those it chanced to grace; the few who knew him even considered the thought that he was really an angel trapped in a man’s form. Despite all the kindness and over-spill of affection he spread about, no one knew more than the simple fact of his supposed first name. No one knew that smile could die, and they knew even less of what happened beyond the walls of the great garden he inhabited- save for his lady, of course.

Stretched out across a divan he stares dazedly at the ceiling now, his eyes were vacant and yet the slight upturn of his lips that represented a smile still remained. Calm and at peace would have been perfect words to describe the moment if it weren’t for a small cup filled with tea that was floating in midair about five feet away. Nothing was there…at least not to most. Through the eyes of Winter there most certainly was something- we just know not what. Really it was likely to be his mind playing tricks on him, but how would one know the difference? Moving around uncomfortably, the black haired young man folds his legs up against his chest in a display of long limbs and angles.

He mutters shyly, “Please silence yourself and leave, the lady will be here soon.” His eyes were glaring just beyond the cup, the stormy-blue irises glowing. The smile was still plastered on his face, but the expressions painted across the rest of him voiced his displeasure. The tea cup bobs slightly and floats down to the table in front of the divan, clacking lightly on the wooden surface. Winter twirls his long braid between his fingers trying to distract himself and requests of the nonexistent figure, “Yes, thank you- now kindly leave.” His smile wavers for a moment as the cup suddenly launches itself from the table and sails into a nearby wall, shattering instantly upon the terracotta toned stone.

Effectively upset, Winter pouts and growls, “Well that's not very nice at all.” In a sweeping fluid motion he brings his arm around the back of the divan to gesture at the heavy, partially barred, front door. His smile completely dead he hisses, “Get out.” The words were cool; literally so, as little clouds of icy breath spiral from his lips. A matter of seconds pass where he remains like this, staring down a figure not there, until finally he seems to snap out of the daze to the realization he was indeed the one who threw the cup. Puzzled and alarmed he laughs at himself nervously and stands up, hurrying away from the room.

In a panic he enters his study and begins frantically rubbing his hands up and down his white dress-shirt as if they were coated in blood. He jams his eyes shut, biting his lip, coming close to letting his voice crack as he calls out, “Miss Falcon!” Winter looks about distraught for a moment, then hurries over and sits down in a large captain's chair placed near an immense bookshelf spanning all four walls off the room. Holding himself steady, he sets his jaw and swats at a book as it floats by, releasing something like a cry of exasperation. “MISS FALCON-!” he jerks his legs up into the chair, once again taking up his angled, awkward pose; this was an attempt at regaining his composure.

The more frenzied he grew, the more objects started flying about the room, many crashing into other things and thus making it worse. Elsewhere in the house a door opens, and in enters a young and beautiful blond woman, her eyes of lilac hues. She was dressed in a flowing royal blue dress that seemed to twirl like water as she walked; around her neck she wore a black ribbon that held a pendant, a strange eye engraved upon it- the same insignia was upon many of the things within Winter's home. Calmly she enters into the study, and, sighing, she crosses her arms, “What in God's name are you doing?” The objects hovering roundabout the room drop instantly to the floor, and Winter looks over at her, tilting his head questioningly to the left.

“Miss Falcon, I-I'm sorry...” he turns his eyes down sheepishly, clearly embarrassed, and slowly places his feet back on the floor, trying to return some sanity to the situation. The woman shakes her head ever-so-slightly and comes to sit on the arm of the chair.

“You've worked yourself all into a fit again,” her voice was not silken, nor smooth, nor anything of the like, but it was- in its own way- beautiful and lovely. It was, as Winter often thought, Dripping with golden beads of words. “Shall we walk the garden?” She asks, hesitating long enough for him to nod slowly, his unusually pale cheeks still flushed with a rosettes of color.

Taking up his hands in hers, she leads him back through the house and out a side door into the color-bursting garden surrounding the house. Narrow stone paths wound their way through the plant life- all at some point having been created or cultivated by Winter's hands. His demeanor gradually softened into the peaceful contentment Miss Falcon knew he held within himself, but no matter what she would do, he would not smile until he was doing it in his awkward, nervous habit. She smiles inwardly and looks about the large flowering trees that formed a tunnel, raining pink and white petals.

“You can stop any time you'd like,” she says it carefully to let him know she isn't upset. Glancing down to her heart-shaped face he blinks, looking almost looking serious for a moment. Lifting his hand he makes a fist and the petals of the trees discontinue their falling, the buds evanesce into mist along with them. This allows only the green-black feathery-leaves that were common during summer to show. The woman closes her eyes, allowing Winter to lead her silently through the forest.

Smiling openly again, the petals burst back to life and flutter around them once again, for the moment, he was happy. “Alurien-” he addresses her hesitantly, afraid to use her name.

“Yes?” her eyes remained closed in calm contemplation.

“How long will they keep me here?” His irises seemed much older now, the blue nearly faded.

Miss Falcon blinks and answers softly, “We'll figure something out, don't you worry.” The answer was unfulfilling. He sighs, knowing this paradise he had created was still his prison, but, on the bright side, at least there was Miss Falcon. Smiling, despite it all, he stares off, creating a series of perfectly white petals to blow into Alurien's hands.

“I try not to.” There was calm externally, but inside his mind, and through his eyes, he could see the shadows walking...all of them walking without notice of each other, yet all acknowledging him. He shudders and grins, “I don't mind waiting.”

next chapter