In another place, at another time-- much earlier than this one and much less real --a deaf girl, formally dressed, stood on stage before a small crowd. She felt the vibration of accompaniment, shut her eyes, and counted in her head for her cue. She was accompanied by a young man at a piano. He played a slow, rhythmic melody, one that could have been either happy or sad, depending entirely upon its use. Seconds passed; the slow introduction rose in volume and tempo, rose in energy, and so finally did her lips part.

In another place, at another time, in a place so far removed from our concept of reality, a deaf girl sang like an angel. She moved an audience of skeptics to tears.

The fifth song that girl sang was a short refrain, a gap between the first half of her recital and the second half. That song, Alla Fine della Caos, was approximately one minute long. It spoke of Chaos as if it were an actual being; a living, breathing person that caroused the world in search of destiny. Chaos, a vice-like being that burnt a house down one day and built a fresh one the next. He sought destiny in the most destructive of means, without ever realizing that he, himself, was the only man truly capable of forging his own path, because Chaos is an existence which can follow no path but its own.

This short refrain was, perhaps, one of the most critically acclaimed pieces delivered by the girl. It was carried with no accompaniment. The want for a longer piece resulted in her writing of a brand new story about that chaotic boy, in the form, perhaps, of a short, single man opera--or, rather, a single woman opera.

On that day, none of her skeptics turned devoted fans considered the possibility that the girl's angelic songs would ever have prophetic qualities. How could they? Why would they?

But what did it matter? No one here, in the comfortable reality we call Utopia, witnessed that performance. Memories--all long forgotten; that's all it ever was, that's all it ever will be.

“What’s the hold up honey, we need two more over here!” The music was getting louder, it had to be....She raised her hand and waved at the man, dodging her way through the crowd, eyeing the hooker on the patrons lap as she whispered in his ear. Her price? Her offer for his price? Who knew, hell...who cares? No one noticed this shit going on in here - no one but her.

Her fist pounded on the bar top. “Two more for the dirty old man and the hooker.” The bar keep, commonly known as Keeper, shook his head as he approached her. “That’s no hooker Kali, that’s entertainment.” He winked as he slid the drinks across the counter to her. “Hooker.” She had to get the last word in, she might be young, but she wasn’t naive.

The coins clanked on her tray as she delivered the drinks, she offered a nod, friendliness was not an attribute she cared to share with the folks that hung out in this joint, yet somehow she always made good money. She figured that, most of these people weren’t looking for a friend, unless it was just for the night, and Keeper had made it clear to his patrons that she was not one of those kinds of friends.

“I’m going out for a smoke Keep!” He waved and shook his head again, he did that a lot to her. He always said...Why smoke when you can breath in all the second hand you want for free! Of course, it wasn’t the same.

God, the dry air hit her like a ton of bricks, but the sky was captivating. A glass of cold water hit her lips and tasted like nectar from the gods in this heat. She sighed, and placed her stick between her lips. It would have to be a quick one, they were too busy for her to waste a lot of time. A spark, a deep inhale, ah...so much better.

The only real easy thing about this job was knowing it wasn’t permanent. Soon, she’d have a better job, dancing..where the creeps in the joint couldn’t touch her, manhandle her, and pretend it was on accident. And then, when enough money was saved, school.....and away from this place altogether.

"Awww shit," a voice would break the woman's well deserved rest with some sudden rudeness-- though, not quite the same rudeness as the folk that inhabited Keeper's establishment.

It was probably the accent. No, it was definitely the accent. The accent around here was Xexorian; everyone spoke Xexoria's brand of heavily accented common, it seemed, and any other accent just stuck out like a sore thumb. This one must've come from from overseas. His was an Ulsterian accent, the kind of natural Common speaker with a habit of turning every long i into an oi; the kind of natural Common speaker that shortened a three letter word to just one consonant sound. Some thought it was an undereducated accent. Truth be told, though, that was just all of northern Ulster. Roughly uneducated.

"oI've been lookin' f'a loight f'the last ten moiles," the voice declared, this time somewhat breathlessly, "Any chance you can spot me'un?"

If the woman looked next to her, she'd see him: a tall man, six feet and one inch tall exact, clad in a dark brown tarp-- a desert traveler's wear, truly. It was a cloak, but it was long, tattered, and torn, a lot like the average tarp. The hood was up over his head. Past the chapped and dry lips that parted to speak were not quite a full row of teeth; he was clearly missing one of his front teeth, and if one looked closely, he was missing a couple of molars, too. A long collection of dirty blond hair hung over the right side of his face, obscuring all vision of that eye. His other eye, a deep blue in color, however, was visible despite his hood up and over his face.

He had a brown cigarette out, hoping that the woman would be willing to spot him a light. Chances were it wasn't a normal cigarette, though. Cigars were usually brown, and since it wasn't quite in the shape of a stoagie, chances were it was self rolled.

The heavy Ulsterian voice broke the stagnant air, causing her to jump slightly. Her eyes averted over, and then up, and up. He was huge, least to her, a beast! His body wrapped in a sandy tarp, head covered with the hood, his features hidden like some dirty secret. It was only as she moved to the side and he spoke that she could see his face.

Her hand dug deep in her pocket, as she bit down on her lower lip. “Ah ha!” She laughed almost triumphantly as she pulled her hand from her pocket holding a small square object. “Sure thing buddy, here.” Her hand extended toward him, palm up, a small book of matches laying in wait.

“We have freebies inside, least we used to. Heh, maybe they aren’t free at all. No worries, spark it up.” The end of her own cigarette brightened as she inhaled deeply. Rarely did people shock her by their looks, and while she wasn’t what you might wanna call scared, she was a bit intimidated by the man beside her.

“Oh, you can keep those, too. I have some more back behind the bar. Say, would you like a drink? It’s hotter then all hell out here tonight.” She nodded toward the back door. She had worked for Keeper for years now, trying to work her way up to dance. There wasn't much she couldn't get away with. Taking one last hit off her smoke, she flipped away from her and opened the door, nodding for him to go on in. “It’s on me.” She smiled and awaited his response, which she assumed with this heat, would be him jumping at the chance for a free drink.

"Ah, thankya," the man replied with a relieved sigh as he plucked the box of matches from the woman's open hand.

He set the self rolled cigar betwixt his lips, and with both hands out of his cloak, proceeded to open the box of matches. Truth be told, his hands didn't look too well. They were wrapped in dirty bandages, and not dirtied by sand. The coagulated red-brown color was a telltale image. It was dried blood, but it was clearly his own blood. The bandages were hospital bandages, after all. No one wore hospital bandages around their hands and up their forearms as a fashion statement.

The man didn't have the image of an evil human being-- just a human being that really wasn't in the best of shape right now.

He flicked a match across the bottom of the box and brought the light up to the cigar. It lit slow, like all makes of its kind, but soon he had an orange glow before his face. He released a content sigh. The second he had the smoke inhaled, it was like a weight suddenly lifted off his shoulders.

And then, she offered him a drink.

"Mm," the man hummed as he took another drag from his cigar, only to pause, pull it away from his mouth, and let out a breath of smoke. "Looks loike the walk was all worth it, huh? oI'd love a drink."

He was about ready to ask if he was allowed to smoke in that joint, but really? Would he not be allowed to smoke? Who the hell even thought of non-smoking bars anyways? That was just how it worked. You went to a place, got a drink, had a smoke. The man would follow her in, savoring his cigar all the while. He was probably going to have to pick up some more tobacco while he was here, too.

She nodded in a simple "you’re welcome" to him. Needing a smoke without a light has to be one of the most annoying things she could think of, until she opened the door and heard the roar of laughter from inside. She rolled her eyes slightly, turning back in time to see the mans hands lit by the match light.

“My god...” Her words trailed off as she turned her eyes toward his. She turned and blocked the doorway from him, as if that would stop him if he wanted to get by....”Look, Keep always leaves early after we close and I clean up. I have a place upstairs from here, you’re more then welcome to stay around, I can get ya some grub, a hot shower, and maybe even some clean clothes and fresh bandages.”

Bold. Perhaps she should have minded her own business, but what the hell. He was in need and she was beyond able to extend some form of assistance to him. He looked like he walked straight through hell to get here, it was the least she could do, right? She hoped she didn’t live to regret this decision, or die from it.....

Again she moved from the open door, allowing him passage should he accept her offer, or any of it for that matter. “By the way, the names Kali.” She winked, her lips parted slightly in a super cheesy display, she was indeed, something.

"Mm," he hummed again in cigar-lipped acknowledgment, before withdrawing the cigar from his lips again and nodding to her, "The name's Recheov."

He was, oddly, a bit of a quiet guy. He didn't look the type, definitely. Someone that could get himself into enough trouble to be in such a poor state of health and hygiene must've had a big enough mouth to get himself into all that mess of trouble. Oddly, though, he didn't carry himself like the type. He seemed content to just give the woman, Kali, a nod and stepped into Keeper's establishment.

Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't confused by her offer to allow him a place to get a bath, better clothes, and a new set of bandages. He didn't have an answer to that, if only because he was unsure about it. Then again, though, what was there to be unsure of? Kali here was offering him a great opportunity to get some well needed rest-- and for free, maybe. Not that he didn't have money or anything . . .

Well, actually, he didn't have any money, but that was besides the point.

He didn't quite know this place well; one might even say he was a total stranger here. It was an easy conclusion to come to, of course. His skin wasn't nearly as tanned as the average Xexorian, or anyone he stuck around in Xexoria for any real length of time. He wasn't pale faced; he had something of a tan, but it wasn't nearly enough for one to call him weathered by this side of the world. Xexorian bars at this level had a habit of being pretty different from anywhere else in the world, too. In the establishment, several feet in, he turned to look at Kali with a curious tilt of his head and his makeshift cigar between his lips.

“Good to know you.” He obviously wasn’t a man of many words, and it seemed as if he was a bit leery of her offer....as if she could bring harm to him. She chuckled silently at her thoughts following him through the door, and then past him, beckoning him to follow her.

“Hey Sassy, get to workin, those fellas over there been waitin since you walked out!” Keeps voice was always boisterous, no one could mistake it, ever. “Cause your legs are broken, right!?” This time she laughed loudly and headed to where he pointed with drink he had already made, gotta love regulars.

“Oi, get me a plate of that slop you’re servin tonight for my friend here Keep, and whatever he wants to drink, too. I’ll pick up his tab later.” Shed tossed him a look, he’d know it, should couldn’t count the times she had brought “strays” in for a warm meal.

The man followed Kali closely. Once he was fully in the establishment, he got a glimpse of all the commotion. Recheov couldn't help but feel immediately drawn to it. Hell, maybe this place would be somewhere he might want to stick around for a little longer than a night. Though, chances were if he did, he might wind up in a bad condition again, and probably overstay his welcome in less than a few minutes.

Actually, that never stopped him before. Yeah, he was totally going to stick around this joint for a little while; at least a couple of days. He'd have to tell Kali that he was going to accept her offer when she was done.

Recheov took a seat at the bar. It seemed like the best place. There, he was right before the barkeep, where service was pretty much instant. Recheov regarded Keep with an upward nod.

"You got tequila?" he asked outright.

Screw water. Who needed water? It had no nutrients, after all, and this was the desert. Tequila might not have been any better to have around in the desert, but it was better to enjoy your drink in the desert if it wasn't going to do you any good, rather than loath what you're drinking and still die all the same.

As soon as his drink was placed before him, she too was there, dropping a plate of food in front of him. Stew, of some sort with meat and vegetables, and a side of bread. “Doesn’t look like much, but trust me Recheov, it’s the best food around here.”

She slid some money across the counter to Keep and smiled. “I dunno ‘bout you Sassy.” She laughed along with him heartily. “It’s alright, I’d rather keep you guessing, keeps ya young.” When she turned, she noticed the tequila.”Not too many of those tonight, alright?” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but the look on her face said she wasn’t joking.

“Oh hey Keep, is that box of clothes and stuff still in the back?” She hopped up on a stool beside Recheov. Her 5'4" frame dwarfed by his size. “Ye it still be there, help yourself kiddo.” She turned toward the patrons, leaning back against the bar as they all seemed happy for the time being. “Thanks Keep.” Her attention turned back to her new friend. “Seems tonight’s your lucky night. We’ll be closin within the next half hour. Eat up.”

She popped off the stool and began busing herself with clean up. Empty bottles on empty tables crashing into a large barrel, trash gathered and tossed away, dirty dishes making their way for the other waitress to wash up. She was tired, and sure he would be ready for a hot bath, and a bed to sleep in, that was....if he was coming....

"Mm, thanks," Recheov remarked as a drink and a plate of food were set before him--both by completely different people, no less. Recheov briefly felt like royalty.

He nodded his head slightly at Kali's concern and made a mental note of it. Looks like he wasn't going to be getting hammered tonight. Oh well. There were other nights and all the time in the world to drink himself into a stupor. Another day would come, and then another opportunity. Still, tequila was pretty grand stuff. It was straight tequila in a single glass; not a shot glass, but the kind of glass used for mixed drinks. He took a sip, felt like he was punched in the eye, and felt pretty happy about that.

Next up, he put his cigar out. Perhaps with little regard to his own health, he buried the burning end into the back of his hand, charring the bandage around it and drifting smoke into the air with the painful smell of gently burning flesh. This, however, didn't seem to bother the man in the slightest. The cigar, with half its life still available to him, was shoved back into the confines of his tattered cloak. With that said and done, he started on the stew. It was hot; steaming, even-- and for that reason alone, he couldn't taste much more than a biting pain with every spoon full, which didn't seem to bother him much.

As Kali worked on cleaning the joint up, Recheov looked to Keep at the bar. He was about the only person to talk to in the meantime, and he didn't look like that bad of a guy-- if Recheov really bothered to think about a person's own personal badness before he talked to them.

"Oi, this's gonna sound weird," Recheov thought aloud, "But oI'm a li'l bit lost. Don't got a clue where the 'ell I am. Wot's this town's name?"

She rubbed some speed on her work this evening, taking no time at all to have the place ready to be closed down for the night. Chairs were on top of tables, tables cleaned, floor all mopped up, the only noticeable “left over” was the stale smell of smoke that still lingered in the air, but oh well.

“Xexoria boy, you lost your mind? Can’t get lost out here, you’d be settin yourself up for a meal for the critters that live around here if you don’t watch yourself.” She tiled her head to the side a bit, coming up behind Recheov, placing a hand on his shoulder as if saying, I’m behind you.

“How can you not know where you are?” She made an odd face after her words, it was a dumb question, certain parts of the place all look the same, hell she could get lost out there if she weren’t careful enough. “Eh, doesn’t matter now. You’re here, you’re safe, and you’re among friends. As soon as you’re ready, we can head up to my place.”

She tossed her wet rag on the bar top as Keep rounded the corner eyeing the stranger openly. “Need me to check on ya in the mornin Sassy?” He was the closest thing to a father she had, she loved him for his protectiveness. “Naw, I’ll be here same time.” She shook her head reassuringly to him and leaned against the bar, sipping a cool glass of water, waiting to go whenever Recheov was ready.

"Xexoria?" Recheov replied, momentarily dumbfounded. This was followed soon after by him furrowing his brow, grinning, and uttering a solitary chuckle. "Makes sense, oI guess."

In a weird and sadistic way, that is. Recheov refrained from mentioning that part. Oh well. It wasn't like he actually had a destination or anything . . .

"Oh. Roight, comin'."

It was amazing how quick this place cleared out, actually. Recheov had seen a bar clear out fast before, but that was only because the whole damn place became a brawl, someone had a shotgun, and everyone bailed out when they knew the owner was ready to blast holes in some folk. Keep here didn't even need a shotgun to scare off customers. That was pretty damn impressive. Recheov wondered if Keep had, at some point, put his foot down and did something raw-nasty to let his patrons know that his business was serious business, and they'd better acknowledge it.

After all, this was Xexoria. As far as Recheov knew, Xexoria could be a pretty rough place. Living here was like experiencing nature's utter hate of you; one might consider the likelihood that everyone here had aggression to work off.

Recheov, on the other hand, had a bath and a room waiting for him, and no sign of intense aggression in sight. He ate the last bits of stew quickly, took down the glass of tequila in a glorious burn, and paused for just a few seconds to let all that settle. He had to rush, after all; didn't want Kali to take back her offer on account of him being a slow ass.

"Yeup, 'm good," Recheov announced as a form of declaring his readiness as he stood up from his bar stool. That glass of tequila was probably going to hit him soon, but not right now. He had, after all, taken only a single sip of it before he wound up downing the whole glass.

The look on her face had to be horrid as she watched him down the potent liquid. “Gah.” She twitched slightly thinking about the burn. She hopped over the bar and disappeared in the back room for a split second, only to come back out with a huge box, and walking rather clumsily.

“Ok then, follow me.” She trailed back out the way they had came, tripping over her own feet, and anything else that offered any kind of obstacle, the box being so large, she could barely see over it. Once outside where they had met, she again began to speak.

“Right around this corner here is the stairs up to my place. Wanna grab the door for me?” She hoped he would move ahead of her, the box seemed to get heavier and heavier. She wanted a hot shower, pjs, good music and some relaxation, perhaps even conversation.

He followed behind Kali with an expression of confusion plastered upon his face. What the hell was all that shit? Was it really all that necessary? It looked like she was going to trip, fall, and bust it all up in the midst of walking with it. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and they reached the back of the building and the stairs, just as Kali was trying for.

"Sure thing," Recheov shrugged his shoulders.

Recheov started for the stairs, only to realize that he actually had such a thing as hindsight. He'd never thought about it before, but that really added a pretty bitchin' feeling of guilt. Yeah, sure, he'd felt guilt before, just never anything over something, well . . . worthwhile.

"You know," Recheov suddenly paused and thought aloud as he took the first step up the staircase, "oI can carry all that stuff, too, if you'd loike."

Hey, it was the least he could do, right? Here, this lady was going to put him up for the night, provided him food and drink, and planned to provide him a place to take a bath and maybe get some new clothes. Carrying a cumbersome load of stuff and opening the door for her-- hell, that was just chivalrous.

Heh. Chivalry; that's new.