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It was just another kind of ambient sound, when you thought about it. More compelling perhaps, definitely more distracting, but it wasn’t that unlike the myriad of tiny conversations going on between insects and birds, or the wind rustling through the trees. One thing they both had in common was that neither was really meant for his ears.
The scent of fresh coffee filled his nostrils, steam rising from the cup. Silas slid his thumb through the curved handle, cupping his drink with both of his hands. It was almost uncomfortably hot to hold, but not so bad he didn’t welcome the warmth against his calloused palms.
The place was busy, not very crowded but certainly lively. Being alone could be even more difficult sometimes in these situations; he didn’t have anything to focus on then, no voices to hone in on or faces to turn to. He tried not to eavesdrop even as the words fought for his attention. Instead he rested his gaze on the coffee in front of him, sometimes drawn to the door when the little bell above it jingled, cutting through the noise.
He was still getting used to it, these new, bustling, loud places. Not that his life before had been uneventful, rather the opposite, there had always been something to do. Only he had done it alone, and rarely, if ever, had any of it been recounted to anyone. People he had killed, beasts he had hunted, the land he had tended and fleeting bonds forged and lost. Mistakes made, devastating failures as well as victories both big and small. The stakes here were different a lot of the time, feelings and relationships in the balance rather than duty, or survival. But those were not trivial things.
If they were he wouldn’t be here.
He shifted his grip on the cup slightly, suppressing the urge to fold his ears back as a woman laughed loudly somewhere close behind him even as the mirthful sound brought a faint, unconscious smile to his face.
For nearly a year now he had called Eorzea home, and though so much had changed, some things still remained the same. Like how he would bare his heart, only to find it unanswered.
Courage, Samuel had called it, but he wasn’t so sure.
He’d thought himself prepared for it this time, but just like with a physical wound knowing to expect it didn’t ease the pain. Even so, he was determined not to let it fester. The love was still there, it just had to take a different form.
What was it about Sar’s words that always seemed to touch him? How she so frankly and openly spoke about her feelings, unabashed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was, or should be.
Silas lifted the cup one-handed to his lips and blew gently on the surface before he took a small sip, tentatively at first not to burn himself, then a bigger one. He didn’t know how to describe the taste exactly but he found it full, and strong and wholly satisfying. It was one thing the forest had taught him, to relish and find pleasure in the little things. He hadn’t had much, but those things mattered. Each chance meeting, each successful hunt, each warm sunbeam filtered down through the leaves to touch his face, even if he might have to close his eyes against the glare.
If only that could always be enough.
He sat back a bit and glanced around the room, sipping his coffee as he scanned the crowd. But no one looked his way. No one met his eye.
Silas let out a soft, rueful chuckle, casting his gaze back to the cup of black coffee nestled between his hands. What was he even doing?
This wasn’t what he wanted.
He swirled the coffee around a couple of times before he finished the last of it in one go, right down to the very bottom, ignoring the bitter taste the grounds left on his tongue. Standing he made his way to set his empty cup down on the counter, smiling at the miqo’te behind it.
“The coffee was great, thank you,” he said, and the man sent a brief smile his way in response, busy with another customer.
Silas pulled the door jingling open and stepped out into the salty evening air. The night was mild, the breeze just enough to stir his hair without sending it whipping across his face. He let his feet take him where they willed, the sound of the sea gradually growing louder, an indistinct murmur turning into the sound of each individual wave lapping against the shore until the water finally came into view – a shimmering expanse stretching all the way to the horizon.
On an impulse he ascended the low wall in one big, leaping step and vaulted off the opposite side to land on the dark beach below. He plonked himself down heavily on the sand, then lied back to stare up at the sky.
There were too many stars.
In the forest there had always been a great canopy above, embracing the world. Shielding, protecting. Hiding.
Silas swallowed thickly, eyes wandering the impossible vastness of scattered, twinkling lights spread out before him. And for the first time in a long time he felt incredibly alone.