We were talking…

Hours passed, probably. Maybe minutes. Sarras wasn’t really sure. Alcohol had a way of distorting the very world around it. He knew that theoretically that it wasn’t the world that the alcohol distorted but instead the vessel in which had consumed it in the first place but at the moment Sarras cared little for theories and such worthless dribble.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed or if time had actually passed at all. When he looked up to the sky, the scenery had altered and changed, but clouds changing more led to do with the wind and weather flow, a completely different entity altogether. Not so much to do with time and its passage. It had grown exceptionally cold and Sarras realized that had been what he suspected was a snowflake landing on his nose that work him from his timeless slumber. Snow was in bound, ready to cover the city in a thick white blanket of silence over the city, adding yet another level of timeless solitude to him.

There wasn’t much that this attire of his provided him and the chill in the air would have likely felt like a thousand daggers piercing his skin. It would be extremely frigid soon, but Sarras could not bring himself to move even if it meant his survival. No, he thought, his head lost in the sea of cloud that swam above him. Let the snow come. Let it blanket him, preserve him for all to see. Here lies Sarras, Squire of the Cosmos, when he could not even will himself to seek warmer climates, much less get revenge on the single officer that had ruined his life.

About the space between us all…

Time had passed, but like before he had no way of telling just how much. The sky was different and the white specks were drifting downward and getting bigger, definitely snow. Unless the sky was falling? No, snow. Definitely, undoubtedly snow. The dropping of the temperature was no where near as ambiguous as the passage of time, and gradually he was becoming more and more uncomfortable. He would have to move soon, he thought with a groan. He began to regret his decision to down all of those beers all by himself now, as he could seldom find the strength to move. But he had to move. He had to will himself to move. Or else, he’d become a Sarras icicle and his foolishness would be preserved for all eternity.

And the people who find themselves…

He had tried to will himself up, but it was simply no use now. He was too far gone… too far gone. He could feel another blackout coming, and he wondered what could have possibly got him to his feet. He could have called for help… could have, but Mistral’s trinket, just as useless as ever, made that impossible. He thought of one thing he could do, and he brought the cup to his fingers, not sure how it had appeared there except that he had summoned it out of sheer will. Cosmos knights were ones of rebirth and renewal, he was told… and what better way to renew himself than with magic. So, he summoned, whispering the words that only he knew, and drinking the glistening water that had magically, literally, appeared in the bowl. “Nectar of the Cosmos…”

It touched his lips, and then…

((Word Count: 576))