Work Text:
There was something melancholy about it.
Pohl had walked past that specific shard of Originium so many times that he'd started thinking of it as something of significance. His own private landmark; a silent, stout companion to greet him on his many strolls through the city.
This shard was better than many of the other ones scattered throughout Kazdel because it had real character. It was huge and pleasantly shaped, with a tapered bottom like an ice-cream cone that made it look like it was one strong gust of wind from toppling and crushing some poor shmuck. But despite the glaring I-will-kill-you air about it, it seemed nice. Wise. As if it viewed the small, shitty street it was on and the tired people that walked it with a sort of zen, come-what-may attitude. Like it could be named Vincent, or Martin, or some such proper, trustworthy name. Like it was a friend. A friend in a weird, mute, rock kind of way.
Pohl knew it was only a matter of time before it got removed, but it still made him a little wistful. Slowly but surely they were polishing the city up: paving the streets, moving out all the Originium, cleaning up the countless messes. The Kazdel he knew like the back of his hand was changing little by little.
The three guys trying to move Vincent - one lanky, one fat, and one kind of normal, but with a terrible haircut - had spent the past couple of minutes doing nothing but yelling at each other by their pulley cart. Classic. Work in Kazdel never got done any other way. People had to scream and argue until they were good and tired, and then inevitably fuck up whatever they were trying to do. If Pohl had to bet the three coins he had loose in his pocket, he would wager that Mr. Haircut was going to end up with a big ol' boulder on his foot.
Pohl watched them and chewed his gum. The gum had already lost almost all of its flavor, but he was determined to make the last lingering molecules of fresh mintyness last as long as possible. Who knows when he'll get some next. Plus, this way it was easier to forget how hungry he was.
Before his and Nymph's joint meeting at the new Rhodes Island branch office, he'd assumed there was going to be a proper lunch waiting for them. A buffet table, maybe. Or some snacks, at least - finger sandwiches and crispy little chips or something. Rhodes was a classy, well-off institution, wasn't it? But those cheapskates had given him nothing but a clap on the back and a piece of gum in exchange for all of his hard work. Sure, they'd given him his salary too, but what about the food? And, okay - the gum he took himself. But you could hardly blame him, could you? What kind of idiot leaves their things unattended in Kazdel?
So Pohl continued chewing, and continued watching. From what he could hear, Mr. Lanky had come up with some sort of a plan to lift the big thing using the limited amount of rope they had, but his companions weren't liking his idea one bit.
Pohl snickered. Boy, these guys were in way over their heads. No way they were going to come out of this battle with his pal Vince unscathed.
A timid poke on his arm interrupted his amused spectating.
"...Hey, Pohl," Nymph said from beside him.
They'd been standing side-by-side in companionable silence for a minute or two now, but not so companionable that Pohl had forgotten she was there. Really, how could he? Nymph had the habit of rocking on her feet when she was in place, so she was an ever-moving, crimson shape swaying in the corner of his vision.
"Mmm?"
"I have a question."
"Shoot," he said, and finally turned his attention away from the three-man-circus.
Pohl had assumed Nymph was still lingering with him on the street corner because she, too, was enjoying the spectacle and waiting for the inevitable workplace accident. But from how she was turned fully toward him and not them, it didn't seem like that was the case after all. She wasn't looking at Pohl though, but rather down at her hands that were gently cradling a foil-wrapped piece of gum like some precious silver ingot.
Seeing how Pohl and Nymph had gone to the office together to hear their joint directives and hand in their respective reports, Pohl could only assume she too had been expecting a nice lunch spread and felt the same bitter disappointment. Really, sharing the gum with her was the least he could do.
Nymph inhaled a big breath. "So, maybe this will come as a bit of a surprise, but... Well, actually, I hope that it doesn't. Hah," she said with a funny, high-pitched laugh, like a balloon letting out air.
Pohl could see that she was awful red in the face for some reason, her cheeks almost the colour of her hair. And also her eyes, and her shoes, and her bow, and her purse. Man, she really had a thing going for her, didn't she?
"Do you- Um," Nymph muttered. "Would you like to get... I mean, to- Um, I would really like to go - go eat- together- I mean, like, go... Date sometime?" Finally, she glanced up at Pohl, but quickly lowered her eyes again. "Gosh, you probably think it's so stupid. I'm sorry, I shou-"
Pohl snorted a laugh. "Yeah, okay. Sure. And it's not stupid. Maybe a bit weird, but whatever."
Nymph blinked at him. "...Weird?" she asked in a choked whisper.
"A little, I guess." He shrugged. "Not every day someone asks you something like that."
He didn't why know she was asking him about eating dates - Pohl was hardly some great food connoisseur. But like hell he'd ever refuse anything she asked. Sometimes he could barely believe she was even talking to him. Sure, Pohl was an up-and-coming businessman; someone with a decent amount of sway in these parts and a more than decent amount of street smarts. Plus, he was a patent-holding inventor, and could read and write better than just about anybody here besides that muscle-man merc. On paper, he wasn't half bad. But he was still a Kazdel street brat, and she was much too nice for a guy like him. She was a smart, good girl. Neat and pretty and wonderful, and her hands were always soft, and her hair was always big and perfect, and she always said 'please' and 'thank you' and never swore.
Pohl grinned at her, lopsided and toothy. "But don't worry, I'm just the right guy for the job. You can leave it all to me." Dates were hardly something to be found in any Kazdel corner store, but he was sure someone around here had to sell them. If life had taught him anything, it was this - you can always find whatever you want, if only you look hard enough.
"The job...?" she muttered in confusion. But quickly enough, she collected herself with a shake of her head, and smiled again. That sweet smile that put little dimples in her cheeks and made Pohl feel like someone was shooting fireworks in his belly. "Well, whatever you say. I trust that you'll decide on something nice. How about we meet here Friday at seven and then go from there?"
Pohl smiled back. "Sure. Sounds like a plan."
"Okay. Hi hi, I'm excited," she giggled, before suddenly throwing her arms around Pohl's neck as she jumped in for a hug. Despite her soft looks, was mighty quick; so quick Pohl barely managed to react and balance himself in time, placing a shy hand on the middle of her back. Just for a moment, Nymph buried her face in the crook of his neck. On her hair Pohl could smell the scent that clung to her in a soft, fluffy cloud: vanilla, candies, and a bunch of other girly things he knew nothing about. Sweet and pretty. He liked it a lot.
Nymph let go of him and jumped back. "Fhew, okay. Well bye now, farewell and such, see you Friday!" she prattled in a single nervous breath, cheeks even redder than before. Without another word, she turned on her heels, and rushed off in a pitter-patter of her small, fancy shoes.
"...Uh, yeah. Bye!" Pohl called after her with a lazy wave, but she had already mingled with the busy midday crowd.
Pohl lowered this hand and stuffed it back into the pocket of his coat. Man, she sure was a mystery sometimes. Who the hell knew someone could get so excited about eating dates?
He was watching her scarlet curls disappearing down the street, when, suddenly, there was a scream, and probably the loudest curse Pohl had ever heard.
Shit. He'd missed it. And when he looked back at the Three Stooges, he could see that it wasn't Haircut-Mc-Normalpants that had ended up with a boulder on his big toe, but rather poor Mr. Scrawny. So that's who Vincent had chosen as its victim.
Pohl sighed. There go his three imaginary coins.
Maybe he doesn't know girls or big boulders as well as he thought.
On Friday night, the city was alive.
Drunkards; couples; mischievous kids; tired workers shuffling home after a long week. Strangers, friends and distant acquaintances-of-acquaintances. A thrumming, vibrant mass of people mingling under a vast night sky, the soul furnace looming in the distance and peering down at the denizens of the Kazdel like a curious child at a colony of ants.
It was just the kind of night Pohl liked. Full of energy and potential.
He breathed in the cool, prickly fall air; felt it deep in his lungs, felt oxygen travel down all the way to the tips of his fingers. He was practically buzzing.
Pohl couldn't help but fiddle with a button that was coming loose on his sleeve as he waited on the street corner where they had agreed to meet. He had come early - he was a polite young man after all. And, truth be told, he could hardly keep himself still at home. Though he was growing out of it, he could still get excited like a little kid when it counted.
It seemed like Nymph might have shared some of that feeling, as it was only a couple of minutes later when he spotted the familiar pop of crimson skipping down the street. She was wearing a frilly black-and-white dress and shiny little heels that made that nice, crisp tip-tap sound as she hurried toward him.
Pohl whistled. "Look how fancy y'are today. You going somewhere after this?"
Now that she was closer, he could see that there was even a little pink bow in her hair. Was it legal for someone to be this cute in Kazdel? Probably not.
Nymph just laughed, falling into step with him as they turned to walk toward their destination.
"...Well, okay, keep your secrets." He smiled, shy and lopsided, and scratched his cheek. "You look, ehr... nice. Really nice."
Nymph smiled back. "Thank you," she said, twirling for a step. Her dress spun around her in a hypnotising, monochrome swirl.
Watching the sway of the delicate, fancy frills on the hem of her dress, Pohl was beginning to feel a little underdressed. Maybe he knew less about the world than he had thought - he definitely didn't know people had to get all dressed up to eat dates. Well - live and learn. All he could do now was hide his fraying sleeve behind his back as they meandered through the city streets, merging with the hustle and bustle.
"Okie dokie, here we are," Pohl announced as he stopped in front of the ramshackle building that had been their destination.
It sat in a dark, trash-littered cul-de-sac near the underside of a bridge, in a neighbourhood unfriendly enough even for Pohl not to visit if he could help it. The sign nailed to the wall above the entrance looked like something straight out of a shipwreck - a frayed, jagged plank, mildewed in parts, with the word "STOЯ" painted on it in black letters.
Nymph blinked at him, then at the grimy door, and back at him again. Her head tilted in some mix of confusion and suspicion. Even though Pohl knew she trusted him well enough, he could see in her fiddling hands that this was making her feel a little iffy. Hell, he couldn't blame her. The place looked about as sketchy as they come.
"Um... What is this?"
"A well-kept secret," Pohl said, winking at her over his shoulder as he approached the door. He opened it for her with gentlemanly flourish. "Come on in!"
Hesitantly, she followed.
The inside smelled a little like chemicals and dust, and a lot like an old person. Certainly courtesy of the shopkeep sitting in the corner - probably the oldest and wrinkliest man Pohl had ever seen. Really, he should get some sort of a medal for having managed to survive in Kazdel this long.
Pohl scanned the overstuffed shelves that housed a senseless mishmash of items: ancient-looking Yanese liquor, leather and fabric pouches with designs that looked completely alien to him, weird, unlabelled ointments and tinctures, and a bunch of stuff he couldn't even identify. But, most importantly, tucked away against the back wall, there was a little section of foodstuffs - tea, mints, some crusty looking mushrooms, and a small selection of dried fruits.
"Here they are. And for a real good price," Pohl said as he led Nymph to the shelf, picking up one of the small boxes of dates and passing it her way.
As he did, he leaned in, putting a hand in front of his mouth and whispering, "The owner is a bit... you know, how do I say it... Mega old, and hasn't changed prices, like, ever, so everything is way cheap. But don't tell him I said that."
Nymph gave the box a curious look as she turned it in her hands. "Dates?"
"Yeah."
She smiled. "That's nice. I like them."
Pohl snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I sure hope you do."
To Pohl's disappointment, she didn't look nearly as impressed as he'd thought she'd be. He'd put a lot of work into finding them, especially for such a low price - but Nymph was hardly rushing to reach for her coin purse. Maybe she thought they were still too expensive? Maybe she forgot her wallet and was too shy to say?
Pohl shifted on his feet. "Uhh...How about I get these? I came into a little spare change recently. It's no big deal."
He hadn't - and the Rhodes Island salary had already been carefully budgeted - but he wasn't scrapping around either. He'd definitely been down worse on his luck before. Waaaay worse.
"Oh. Well, alright. Thank you!" Nymph said with a polite little curtsey.
Pohl swallowed around a sigh as he took the box out of her hands and brought it up to the old man to settle their bill. There go his three real coins.
Well, whatever. For her, it was worth it.
"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?" Nymph huffed from behind him, focused entirely on the precarious task of climbing the rickety ladder without stepping on her dress or, worse - falling backward and landing in a garbage heap in the alleyway below.
"Allowed? Well, uh..." Pohl extended a hand and helped her up over the ledge. "Sure we're allowed. I mean, no one's stopping us, right?"
Nymph gave him a suspicious pout. It looked like she was about to press it further, but then her eyes landed on the reason Pohl had brought her there in the first place - the view stretching out beneath them just past the edge of the roof. This building, once an old banshee temple, was one of the few in Kazdel that were more than three stories tall - and from here, you could see over most of the city. Despite how bleak it sometimes looked during daylight hours, at night Kazdel melted into a colourful, gleaming collection of firelights and people, all mingling underneath an immense, starry sky. Pohl loved being here, looking down at it all. It made him feel unfettered, truly alive; as if the whole world was there under him, ready for the taking.
"Wow, I never knew there was a view like this anywhere in the city!" Nymph exclaimed as she ran up to the edge, eyes wide.
"It's nice, right? This is one of my favorite spots. I haven't really ever brought anyone else here, but I thought you'd like it, so..." He pulled his hat more firmly over his eyes, in a vain attempt to hide the shyness creeping into his cheeks at the admission.
"Well, aren't you awfully nice." Nymph gave him a playful smile, though that pinkness from a few days ago had returned to the pointy tips of her ears.
A bashful shrug was all the answer Pohl gave before plopping down in his usual spot near the ledge of the roof. He pulled the dates and a few other assorted treats out of his bag. "Okay, let's enjoy the fruits of our labour!"
Just as Nymph sat down next to him on the old pile of planks that always served as Pohl's seat, she shivered. Now that they were away from the busy streets where bodies, furnace nodes and numerous hearths heated the air, it had quickly turned chilly.
"Uh, here. Take it," Pohl said as he shimmied out of his tattered coat.
"Huh? Oh, no, no, I couldn't possibly-"
"Really, it's no big deal."
Nymph looked hesitant, but then another sharp gust of wind swept over them, forcing a shudder down her shoulders. She timidly reached out for the coat, but not before asking, "Are you sure? Aren't you going to be cold, Pohl?"
He shrugged. "Nah. I don't really get cold."
A lie. Already, he could feel goosebumps rising on his forearms and a crisp, tingling chill creeping in behind his collar. But for her, he could bear it. And like hell he would miss that view: his own oversized coat gingerly wrapped around Nymph's slight shoulders, her pretty curls draping down the sandy brown fabric. If he got super lucky, maybe it would smell a little like her when she returned it later. Just maybe.
Though the temperature only kept dropping as the evening ticked on, Pohl was having a good enough time to forget all about it. Well - almost. His fingers had practically turned into ice cubes, but it was nothing he couldn't solve by quickly jamming them under his shirt whenever Nymph was looking the other way.
But besides his frozen hands, it was a nice night. No - a great night.
They ate their dates, which turned out to be pretty good despite the rather questionable source, and shared a bottle of mead. Pohl had managed to secure it as payment for helping to settle a fight in one of the less shady bars in town. But still just shady enough to not question his age.
Conversation flowed easily, like it always did, as they absentmindedly watched the thrumming flow of the city beneath them, complex and alive like a beating heart.
They talked about everything: about the time they met, and the chaos of those days; about Rhodes island, their friends, and about Kazdel; about the places they liked, and the ones they didn't. They talked about Pohl's printing business, and Nymph's work; about her sister, and how nice it was to see her again. They joked a little about the people they'd met over the last few months, and then a lot about Fremont. Pohl had learned to do a pretty decent impression of the old man, which made Nymph burst into a peal of melodic laughter, clear and pretty like a little crystal bell. And every time they bumped their shoulders together or their hands touched as they passed the bottle, Pohl's heart did that funny thing it usually did when he was being chased by guards or about to be caught in a lie. Or when he was this close to a pretty girl. Well, no, not any girl. Just her.
It was a long time later - so long that all the dates were gone and all the mead had been drunk - that Nymph exhaled a small, amused breath, and knocked her knee against Pohl's.
"This is a funny dinner. This isn't quite how I imagined this, but it's very nice. Thank you," she said with an honest smile.
"How you imagined what?"
"Our date."
Pohl blinked at her. "...Our date," he repeated.
Nymph giggled. "Yes, silly. What else?"
Uh...
What?
Sure, they were out here on a Friday night, just the two of them, enjoying a view one could call kind of romantic, but a date? Pohl wished. They were out here just to eat d-
Then, it clicked.
Pohl buried his face in his hands.
"Ooooh. Date sometime. Dates sometime. Date sometime. Dates sometime," he muttered under his breath. "Heh. That's funny."
"Hm?"
"Nothing, nothing," he sighed with a dismissive, carefully casual wave.
Oh god.
Though he schooled his face into easy-going, totally-nothing's-wrong neutrality, really he wanted nothing more than to roll into a little ball and let the earth swallow him whole. Pohl knew he still had some things to learn and plenty of room for improvement, but was he really this dense? How could he have missed that? What a mess...
Pohl cleared his throat, nervously fiddling with one of the wrappings on his fingers that was coming loose.
"Look, Nymph. Any chance I could take you on another one some day? I promise it'll be different. Better, 'n stuff. Way better."
She smiled. "It doesn't have to be different. This one's nice."
"....Yeah?" he asked, watching the milky light of the twin moons shine on the apples of her pretty cheeks.
It really hit him then: he was, apparently, on a date with the girl he liked, and they were sitting close, so close their hands were almost touching. And she was wearing his coat, and she laughed at his jokes and said she was having a good time, and oh, fuck, what is he supposed to do in a situation like this? He might be experienced in a lot of things, a lot more than the average Joe his age, but this was definitely not one of them. Some benevolent entity must be smiling down on him seeing how he hadn't completely blown it yet.
Think, Pohl, think.
Then, Nymph's gentle fingers brushed his forearm.
"Pohl, are you okay?" she asked in a soft, concerned voice. "I can sense you're a touch, I guess, um... worried, or something like that."
She then quickly withdrew her hand and put it up in apology. "Sorry! I didn't mean to, like, peek at what you feel, but you know how it is for us Djall..."
Pohl blinked at her, barely registering what she was saying through the buzzing mess in his head.
Suddenly, against the better judgement of every cell in his body, he blurted, "You like me? Like, actually? Not as a joke?"
Nymph quickly turned back to face the cityscape, coyness dancing in the corners of her eyes. "Well... Yes. That's why I asked you out. And I'd never joke like that! I'm not some meanie, you know," she said as she playfully elbowed Pohl in the side.
Pohl winced. More at her words than at the jab. "...Yeah. Sorry. And sorry that I didn't do it first. I just never thought that you'd... You know."
At that, Nymph laughed a light, easy laugh. "Don't worry. It's okay. It was actually good practice."
"Practice?"
"Yeah! You know, all these crazy things have happened to me - to all of Kazdel - over the past few months. And it made me realize how much I still don't know about the world. How many things still scare me. How much I still need to grow." She looked down as she talked, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem of her dress. "So, the Doctor told me that I should try to challenge myself more often. That I should try to do things even if they're difficult or nerve-wracking. So that I could learn to feel more confident, learn to overcome my fears and not get all choked up and anxious whenever I have to do something scary."
Pohl gave her a smile, and bumped their shoulders together. "...You're really awesome Nymph. And really brave. You always are."
She smiled back. "I think you are too."
"...Am I?"
Pohl felt like there were a thousand hummingbirds in his belly. The message was not lost on him. She'd really been nervous to ask him out, huh? Did she not realize how amazing she was, just how out of his league? That Pohl wouldn't say no to her in a million, billion years?
Pohl caught Nymph's gaze, and didn't let go. They watched each other, in warm, sticky silence. Slow and sweet like honey. And all Pohl could think about was how pretty she looked with her beautiful hair, and her upturned nose, and those thick little lashes in the corners of her eyes. Pretty as a picture from one of those fancy art books he'd once skimmed through in the Rhodes Island library.
Pohl swallowed around the lump in his throat.
Being brave, huh... Maybe he should practice too. Maybe he should start practicing right now. Nymph definitely didn't deserve to be on a date with a coward.
With his heart hammering so hard in his chest he thought he might pass out, Pohl ducked in, quick as a thief, and kissed the corner of her mouth. It lasted for not more than a second, but Pohl already knew with absolute certainty that her lips were the softest and nicest thing in the entire world.
When he leaned back, just an inch, he could see distant burning fires and stars dancing in Nymph's surprised, wide eyes.
And he terribly wanted to lean in again, put his hand on her cheek, and taste the sweetness of their drink in her mouth. But he knew his hand was gross and sweaty from nervousness, and any more bravery tonight might really kill him dead.
Well... one step at a time. He knew how to quit while he was ahead.
"Uh... Well, we - we best get going now!" Pohl stammered in a hurried, high-pitched breath as he suddenly jumped up on his feet, almost falling on his ass in the process. His heart thundered in his chest like a freight train. "The security guard will come this way any minute now. That's why I was getting a little nervous, see."
Nymph blinked at him, cheeks raspberry-pink, before shaking her head and snapping back to reality. "Wait, what? Really?"
"Yep. There she is now." Pohl pointed at the opposite corner of the roof, where a door was slowly opening, the brightness of a flashlight slipping through. "Run!"
"Pohl!" Nymph exclaimed, jumping up to hurry behind him. And though she was scolding him as he deserved, there was a wide smile on her face as they ran, Pohl's cold, nervous hand holding tightly onto hers.
The walk back to Nymph's house was slow. Not because it was hard or tiring or anything like that, but because neither felt like hurrying; both trying to stretch the evening out as far as it would go. Their steps were lazy, indulgent. Without even discussing it, they chose the longest route, passing by all the shortcuts Pohl knew of without sparing them a single glance.
Even when they were finally at Nymph's door, they lingered, standing just that bit closer to each other than they ever had.
"What do you want to do next time?" Pohl asked, his tail slowly wrapping around his own calf. A tell-tale sign of his nervous shyness. He then rushed to correct himself. "I mean, I'm not assuming anything. If you don't want to, then that's totally cool, of course, I just, you know, had a lot of fun and all, and I-"
At that, Nymph giggled, and placed a hand on his arm, stopping his nervous babbling in its tracks. "Maybe you can show me some more secret spots?"
Pohl couldn't stop a stupid, toothy grin from appearing on his face. The hummingbirds in his belly fluttered wildly. "Sure, no problem. I'm just the right guy for the job."
Pohl shuffled home underneath the pale silver haze of crescent moons, whistling a lazy, made-up tune. Lost in thought about where he would take her next. Boy, was he excited already.
A chilly gust of wind suddenly snuck up to him from the North, ruffling his hair and sending a prickly shudder down his back. He stuffed his hands deeper in his pockets, and pulled up the collar of his coat.
There, in a soft, lingering trace, he could smell her: sweet sugar, vanilla and flowers. The memory of soft touches and warm lips and playful scarlet eyes.
Under the shadowy veil of the city's backstreets, Pohl smiled. And the excited tremble of his heart and the skip in his step was a secret to be shared only by him and the quiet darkness of the Kazdelian night.