01: Day and Night

So spring break has finally arrived for me, and to celebrate I wanted to start yet another new project though I still have several to finish.

I'll get to the other ones when I get to them. I want to write but I'm tired of working on the new chapter for New Game, and I can't update La Cirque until I post on New Game. So:

It is my personal belief that Julius gets way too little love. He's literally the only Role-Holder who looks at Alice with genuine respect and he's never tried to bully her into anything. Ever. He has no ulterior motives. I will go down with this ship.

-Static

/*\

The night was beautiful in its own way. Where she adored the bright light and the liveliness that the mornings brought, he preferred the soft silence of a near-black sky. She was bright and covered from head to toe in the prettiest shade of blue where he preferred to fade away into the shadows of the background. She was loud and outspoken, always voicing an opinion even when it might not be appreciated. He was quiet and modest, forever shying away from the affairs of other people and going out of his way to hold them at arms-length. She was an open book with nothing lost in translation, and he remained a puzzle of a man. She was the prettiest of days, and he was the mysterious night.

She was bright where he was dark. She was fire and he was ice. She was a comforting warmth and he was the winter cold. They were complete opposites, but those closest to them thought that this might be the very reason why their relationship worked. Their contrasting characteristics complemented each other, and they had just enough similarities that they could be linked even closer.

Though the night made her sleepy she would gush that she loved to gaze at the many demure stars that resided in the indigo sky, even that she found it preferable to squinting through the garish light of the too-bright sun. He grudgingly admitted that a part of him enjoyed the daily noise of the town below, for it meant that he was saved from complete quietude and that his work was somehow purposeful.

Right now, he was taking a rare reprieve from that work. He'd finished during the noon, and in a rare moment of rebelliousness had used an hourglass to change the time. The day turned dark, and he ventured onto the roof to savor what would most likely be a painfully short amount of time he would be allowed to have to himself.

He leaned on the railing, observing the little town he ran. Rather, the little town she ran. Though it was technically supposed to be a part of his Role, the other work took precedence. Any precious free time was used for things such as sleeping and eating. It was almost unheard of for him to simply relax.

As he gazed down at the dimly lit streets he spied a familiar shimmer of golden hair swishing as a petite figure ventured towards the tower. Their shared home. He rested his chin on his arms as he watched her make her return. After all, when night came it wasn't long until the crazies came out.

Just as the thought crossed his mind he caught a flicker of movement, just a little to the side of her. A block and a half down was a gang of faceless men. They were stumbling and laughing, so he assumed them to be drunk. He would have been content to disregard them had it not been for the fact that their wandering was leading them ever closer to her. That was when one of them caught sight of her from down an alleyway. They all immediately froze and began conversing. At this point she wasn't too far away from the tower. Just another block down and she'd be back. He tried to convince himself there was no need to be worried.

That was until he noticed one of them holding something that looked dangerously metallic.

/*\

That afternoon the woman had quite happily busied herself with shopping. Her spouse was absolutely drowning in work. She'd needed to call out his name three times that "morning" when she woke up to catch his attention. He'd been completely drained of energy and the coffee supply – by far the most important resource in their household – was running dangerously low. After she'd prepared what little of the beverage was left, she'd run into town to buy more supplies.

As she'd been chatting amiably with a cashier at her final stop, the light in the windows had abruptly vanished. It was nighttime, and she'd gotten the feeling that her loved one had something to do with it. With a bright smile she hastily completed her purchase and started to make her way home.

If he'd finished up work, she didn't want to miss a moment of it. She sometimes felt she didn't get to have very much time with him. Even if the knight didn't show up for another few time periods, the after-images would still bring in the odd clock or two. She wanted every second of his time that she could get.

Much of the trip had gone quite smoothly. Warm light spilled from the shops and homes into the streets, and the air was the perfect temperature. A faint breeze brushed over her skin, and she could hear the laughter of children as they were herded indoors. She was only a few hundred yards away from her destination when one such spectacle caught her attention.

Through an open window she caught a dash of movement. A man and his wife, settling themselves onto a plain chaise as two children sat themselves down to play with some toys on the floor, an older third bringing a book to a soft chair.

It reminded her of something. Something that felt out of place. She couldn't quite name what it was, but she found that it made her feel incredibly sad. The sadness puzzled her. Why would she feel sad? She'd never been happier in her life…

Had she?

A faint glimpse of memory flashed by her eyes, images of faces and expressions and actions. A man and a woman, both significantly older than her. Her parents? A young girl with jet black hair and ferocious blue eyes. She got the feeling that this girl was always getting into trouble. Then there was another girl-no woman. Definitely a woman. She was dressed in the gaudiest purple gown and her bonnet was too fine for daily wear, but she wore it anyways.

Wait. Why did she know that? Who was the woman in purple?

The woman in the street had stopped abruptly, trying to piece together her mixed sense of familiarity and sadness. She was more than a little perturbed. Clearly these faint memories were important, otherwise she wouldn't feel so strongly about them, right?

A moment of icy fear shot down her spine. She could vaguely recall these memories from other points throughout her stay in this world. She knew she was different, from a different place, but every so often she found she couldn't recall certain details. What was she missing? Why couldn't she-?

It was then that a figure stepped out of the darkness. A man, nearly a foot taller than herself. He was smiling and he held his posture straight yet relaxed. Still, the woman felt that something wasn't quite right. There was something off about him.

He spoke to her, his words lilting and slurring. It became apparent very quickly that he was drunk. Though he was the only one she could see, she could hear others snickering and giggling behind him. They must have been drunk too, otherwise they would have kept quieter.

The woman suspected that this was supposed to be something a little stealthier on their part, and she didn't like it. She conversed with the man politely, but she kept her answers to his questions short. She carefully intoned that she needed to leave. She had an appointment and somebody was expecting her.

That was when the façade had evaporated like steam into air.

The man's expression darkened, and he stepped towards her. His right hand had been hidden behind his back, and as he swung it around in view she saw his fingers clutching the neck of a broken bottle. He pointed it at her and started shouting terrifying nonsense. Things about how the Foreigner had too much of an advantage in Wonderland, and demanding to know why she'd chosen to make herself the Clockmaker's whore. The more he talked the more afraid she became.

As much as his intoxicated slurs enraged her, her fear won out. The louder his voice got the more of his friends appeared and the more windows closed. The woman had experienced her fair share of awful words and nasty looks – she'd quickly learned that her spouse was not a well-liked man – but never had anyone attacked her, at least not in this context. They knew better.

They knew that if they dared to lay a finger on her or the Clockmaker himself, his bodyguard would slaughter them all.

This time, however, the Executioner was nowhere in sight. If he'd been around, he would have arrived by now. If he'd gotten stuck with orders from the Queen, he was probably lost somewhere on the other side of the country. Her luck had finally run out. This time, there was no one to save her.

Is this it? She wondered. Is this how I die? She didn't want it to be true, but with each second that passed her hope drained a little more. The leader was almost done with his monologue and the woman held on to her meager shopping bags as though they would save her life, clutching them against her body as if they would shield her from the atrocities her attackers would undoubtedly commit. They wouldn't, but it satisfied some instinct that told her she needed to hang on to something.

The man finished his vile speech and his friends approached her, step by step. Every single one of them had a sick smile on his face, and her stomach lurched when she heard one of them make a comment on how attractive her legs must look beneath her dress.

Suddenly, a terrible thought struck her. She wondered if they had something much darker in mind than mere murder.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the pain she was certain she felt coming. Maybe, just maybe, she could survive this. She might make it long enough to catch the notice of some of her friends. If that happened, rescue would be guaranteed and the men who hurt her would be horrifically punished.

Her spouse just might defy his Role and fully destroy their clocks out of sheer rage.

Her terrified mind counted the seconds, waiting for impact, but nothing happened. She realized she couldn't even hear the ragged giggles or sloppy steps. Slowly the woman cracked open one of her eyes. They'd vanished. She blinked.

No. Wait. They weren't gone. Instead they were on the ground, bodies splayed at unnatural angles and swimming in pools of blood that seeped out of ugly gashes. The woman's head whipped around, looking for her would-be savior. She was certain she'd heard nothing.

But then she had been awfully scared.

Once she got to looking behind herself, she saw him. His long, richly colored hair bound into a severe ponytail that entirely destroyed his careful aesthetic. The sword gripped in a steady hand, dripping blood deeper and darker than the night sky above them. His body was shaking with seething anger as he stared at the corpses until they dissolved. One by one they reverted to their true forms – varying timepieces floating in crimson puddles. His hand began to shake too.

He was clearly having a mental debate with himself. He was trying to convince himself not to destroy the clocks, but she could tell that he wanted to. The woman lacked the time to compose herself. She was almost frightened.

She had never seen this side of him. She hadn't even known he owned any weapon other than his pistol. He was the most normal person she knew in this world, and that had been part of why she'd initially taken a liking to him. He was peaceful. He didn't fight.

For the longest time, she thought he couldn't.

How wrong she had been. In that moment he'd defied all of her expectations in the worst of ways, but it had been in her defense. He was not the Executioner. He never involved himself in fights. If he did, it was because he had no choice. Nonetheless she was terrified. She was wondering what to do when she saw his sword-hand raise. Her eyes widened.

He was going to do it.

He was going to break the rule that he was sworn to uphold.

She had to stop him.

"Julius, no!" She cried, one arm reaching out towards him as his movement halted. He slowly turned his head.

"Alice?" He asked, almost as if he'd never realized her presence.

"Julius," she repeated, "I am okay." Her voiced had evened out, and the softness of her tone coaxed the enraged man into lowering his sword.

"You aren't hurt?"

"No." She said, "I'm perfectly fine. Return to the tower with me. I don't want to be out here any longer." Her lover was silent for a moment.

"Of course. I'll let the after-images take care of it." his voice rang out into the darkness, rich and comforting. Silently promising her that she was safe now that he was with her. Her terror set aside, she smiled faintly.

"Good." She answered. The crisis averted, she led him those last few yards up the stairs to the tower door. All the while, she couldn't help but think that she'd forgotten something important.

/*\

So I've got it in my head that Julius is secretly a badass, and here's why:

****SPOILER ALERT****YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED****

Since Ace was an orphaned child that Julius found on the street, I highly doubt that he was a swordsman of any kind before Julius took him in. Julius was responsible for most of his education, and Ace never spoke of any teacher other than his guardian. (At least not that I remember.)

So who taught him how to use the sword?

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

-Static