Summary: Overwhelmed by the pressure of having to rescue the Harvest Goddess Gill abandons Castanet, his fiancé and best friend. Two years later the ghost of his presence lingers as Molly is attempting to fulfil the task he left behind.

A/N: Oh wow, this chapter has been sitting in my drafts for about six months and I finally decided to fix it up. I've never attempted to write an AP multi-chap so here goes nothing…

An Ode to Blue Feathers

Once upon a time – before the land in Castanet had gone stale and the water stagnant – the Brass Bar had been a busy establishment. However, over the course of the last few years, even the most loyal of customers had given up on the hearty meals it had once been famous for and stopped coming in. As a matter of fact, with the exception of its chef Chase, it was currently empty. Kathy, the attractive blonde waitress, was on break until six and having an early dinner with Owen, her boyfriend of four years; Hayden, its owner, was out the back and doing his seasonal stock-take on the wine. Chase didn't mind the solitude though, it gave him ample peace and quiet to prepare sufficiently for the dinner patrons later – which usually just consisted of the local rancher Molly ordering a salad and a small, sporadic range of other residents who were taking the night off.

All this meant that Chase was incredibly surprised to find a group of girls march through the doorway at five to six that evening. He recognised them immediately; Candace and Luna from Sonata Tailoring and the aforementioned waitress, Kathy. Immediately Chase noted the blondes distress - the quiver of her glossy mouth, the black trail of mascara running down her left cheek, the protective stance of Luna by her side – and turned away to give her the polite illusion of privacy.

Unfortunately this gesture did very little when Kathy burst into tears seconds later and Chase overheard her wailing: "I just can't believe he forgot our four year anniversary. I asked him what day it was and– can you believe this - he said it was 'just a Tuesday'." She took a strangled breath. "Oh, it was so embarrassing…I even bought him a gift!"

The 'he' in question was obvious to Chase: Owen. In the last few seasonsthe couple had been fighting on an almost daily basis and he was often subjected to Kathy's rants about the man during their shifts together. He was, understandably, becoming rather tired of it all – Owen was always an ass, how it still surprised his workmate was beyond him. Yet, in quite the testament to Chase's patience, he managed to remain silent as he listened to the women discuss the blacksmith.

Candace, the meeker of the group, chimed softly: "Y-you deserve better than that Kathy. You're so p-pretty and…"

"…and deserving of a boyfriend who isn't a selfish jerk!" Luna cut in, her voice matter-of-fact. From the corner of his eye Chase saw Candace placed a comforting hand on Kathy's shoulder.

"He's not a jerk!" Kathy cried out, defending her boyfriend with a vehemence Chase felt wasn't entirely deserved.

Luna pressed on: "Really? And how would you describe his behaviour?"

"He's…he's…," She sighed, unable to finish her sentence. "I've got nothing…he's just forgetful, okay?"

Luna crossed her arms across her chest. "Being forgetful is not getting the milk from the shops because it slipped your mind; being an asshole is not bothering to remember something as important as an anniversary."

"I'm sorry not everyone could date someone as organised as Gi –" Kathy froze. Chase inhaled sharply from behind the bar and his fists balled into themselves.

A pause. Chase's fingernails dug into the back of his hand, imprinting white crescent moons onto his palm. After what felt like an eternity to him – but was actually only a few seconds - Luna rolled her eyes. "Stop babying me, I can handle hearing Gill's name. After all, it's been over two years since he left."

"Luna, no one's babying you," reassured Candace swiftly. "It's perfectly understandable if you would r-rather not talk about it."

"The topic isn't Gill," she looked at Kathy pointedly as she emphasised his name. "The topic is Owen and how much of an asshole he is."

"Luna!" Candace whined softly, chastising her candour.

Luna glanced at her sister. "What? It's true! Don't even try and deny it."

Chase, who had been watching the clock tick annoyingly past six as he overheard the exchange, turned to face the girls. "Kathy, your break ended five minutes ago. Are you coming back to work or does Hayden need to find a new waitress?"

Luna rolled her eyes, disdain for the chef on her face as she looked up at him. "Seriously?" She turned to face Kathy. "Don't listen to him, this is a girl crisis. Work can wait."

"Kathy's 'girl crisis'," (He made comma's with his fingers), "was what the extra five minutes was for." Chase said flatly, coolly and then went on more patronizingly, "I don't know if you're aware of this but we can't run a restaurant without a waitress."

"You know what else a restaurant needs?" Luna began, folding her arms across her chest, "Customers."

"Last time I checked that's what you and Candace were," Chase retorted.

"D-don't bring me into this." The blue-haired girl pleaded and she scooted her chair off to the left so she no longer flanked her sister's side. Luna shot her a look that could wilt flowers.

"Well, we're not buying anything." Luna informed him, her voice somewhat smug as she gestured to her and Candace. "So that means Kathy can stay with us."

Chase smirked at the pair. "Actually, girls…" He drawled and Luna's blue eyes lit up angrily. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. These tables are reserved for paying clients."

"Because you're just so busy, aren't you?" Luna challenged as she pointed to the empty tables surrounding them.

"You're lucky I even let you in to begin with. Aren't you underage?" Chase spat and Luna's lip curled dangerously.

"Sheesh guys, enough is enough." Kathy pleaded before getting up and heading towards the bar. "Chase, I'm coming now." She paused, and then turned back to look at Luna and Candace who had remained seated. "You two stay, that rule is rubbish…someone just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"The same as he does every morning," Luna muttered, her cheeks flushed in anger.

Kathy nodded, her ponytail swishing. "Yeah, you know it."

Molly had always dreamed of being a farmer.

This was meant in the sense that she had often relished in the idea of ploughing a field from scratch to grow crops in and fantasied of paddocks that she could fill with horses, cows and sheep. However, Molly had never in her wildest dreams envisaged herself being the sole fulfiller of a celestial task. About a week ago the young women had moved to Castanet and been informed via a Harvest Sprite called Finn that the Goddess Tree was dying. Then, in the ensuing seven days, she learned – from a Harvest Goddess of all things - how the land would continue to suffer unless she rang five magical bells and summoned the Harvest King.

So far Molly had been successful in ringing the red bell and returning fire to the land, and unsuccessful in any and all attempts to convince herself this wasn't just a strange dream (this was particularly difficult given Finn's constant, buzzing presence beside her ear). Currently she was working on finding the yellow-bell but all efforts had been fruitless thus far; Finn had advised her to ask the residents of Castanet if they had heard anything about it and with the lack of any other leads Molly had decided to oblige.

In her opinion, the best place to discuss the bells would be the town bar on account of two main reasons. Firstly, she often went there for food so her sleuthing wouldn't be overly obvious and secondly, it harboured a rather eclectic mix of residents and was a hub of idle gossip and chit-chat – which was exactly what Molly planned to pass her questions off as.

With this in mind, Molly entered the bar and immediately her eyes roamed the dimly-lit room. On first glance it seemed that everyone was preoccupied: Luna and Candace were whispering quietly in the corner of the room, a man wearing what appeared to be a cowboy hat was engrossed in a novel at the bar and Kathy, who was usually spotted flitting between the tables, was nowhere to be seen. Then, her gaze fell onto Chase and she breathed a sigh of relief. He was leaning idly against the counter, his arms crossed against his slender frame and an expression of immense boredom sketched on the sharp lines of his face. Unlike other residents of Castanet, Molly wasn't put-off by the man's intimidating demeanour, and despite a single scathing comment from his lips being acidic enough to make Maya cry or Luna's blood boil, Molly found Chase's quips somewhat amusing.

She took a seat at the bar – ensuring that she was respectful distance away from the man wearing the cowboy hat – and addressed Chase with a simple hello. There was something agonizingly attractive about him. The devilish curve of his lips, the taut edges of his cheekbones. His hair was a tangle of strawberry-blonde and it glowed under the florescent light above him.

"Hey, Kathy's out the back so I'll take your order," Chase said, all business and tedium as he rolled up his sleeves.

"Oh, thanks." Molly paused briefly over the salad section of the menu; the number of varieties had increased since her last visit and she assumed this coincided with the red bell being rung. "I'll grab a Caesar salad but minus the bacon."

"One Caesar salad minus the bacon." Chase parroted back at her and she nodded in confirmation.

"Don't judge, I'm a vegetarian," she explained unnecessarily.

He glanced up from the notepad he was scrawling in. "A vegetarian?"

"I don't eat meat."

Chase rolled his eyes at her. "I know what it means." Molly responded with a sceptical eyebrow raise and he defended himself, "I was surprised, that's all. I thought you only ordered salads because summer was coming up and you were watching your weight or something."

Molly let out a small laugh. "You spend far too much time with Kathy."

"It's one of the risks involved with this job," Chase divulged wryly

"It must be difficult braving each shift with such a threat," Molly said, humouring him. Chase smirked.

"I do it for the people. They would despair without my cooking."

"My hero." Molly crooned, voice sarcastic. Then, she hesitated for a fraction of a second before switching subjects and asking: "Chase, have you ever heard of magic bells? I heard a rumour about them today and apparently they used to be the reason for this lands prosperity." She inhaled. "However, they haven't been seen for centuries."

Chase's eyes fell onto her, his gaze level and disinterested. "What makes you think I would know anything about that?"

"I thought someone might have mentioned it to you in passing or you might have read about it…you know, history of the town and all that," Molly said.

"Molly, I think the history books are slightly more rooted in fact."

"You're right," she lied smoothly before smiling sweetly at him. "Well, if you hear anything about a bell can you let me know?"

"Yeah, right…" Here, Chase rolled his eyes, and then continued derisively, "Because magical bells are definitely a common dinner conversation around here."

Undeterred, she set her chin stubbornly. "Just keep it in mind, okay?"

"Sure, whatever," Chase replied in a manner that suggested that he wasn't going to at all. "But, for the time being, the only bell I know or care about it is this one." He gestured to the small silver bell on the counter, the one he rang each time an order was complete. "Now, was there anything else?"

Molly shook her head. "Nope, just the salad."

"Okay. It'll be up in ten."

Chase swiftly turned away from the farmer and began to slice lettuce for the salad into perfectly symmetrical strips. Unable to quell the rising disheartenment Molly sighed and leant back in her chair, her heart sinking at the exact same rate as her body. Castanet had appeared to be a rather spiritual town, especially with its magnificent, towering church and Goddess shrine - and yet, despite all that, Chase had been down-right cynical.

A voice, low and velvety, interrupted her disappointed musings from across the bar. "Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation at the bar." Startled, she turned her head and saw the man in the cowboy hat staring at her; his eyes were warm and brown and possessed a rare intensity that seemed to see straight through her. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Molly patted the seat next to her and shook her head. "Of course not."

Moments later, he appeared next to her and Molly gave him a swift side-along glance. He was all rugged good looks, especially with the faint lining of stubble that dotted his chiselled jaw and the way his sandy-brown hair skimmed the back of his neck and framed the front of his face. Her gaze then dropped to where the top of his shirt was unbuttoned and disappearing below its open material she could see the sculpted edges of his torso; she swallowed, hard. Then, she held out her hand and he took it, his clasp firm and steady as they shook hands. "I'm Molly, it's nice to meet you."

Seconds later he let go (after mentioning his name was Calvin) and Molly's hand slipped into her lap. "I'm glad I'm finally acquainted with you." She looked at him quizzically and he smiled at her. "The carpenters won't stop singing your praises at the mines. Literally."

Molly wrapped her fingers around each other and began cautiously, "So what do you think about the rumours? You know, about the magic bells or something."

Calvin looked up at Molly and captured her stare with his – it was almost magnetic, she thought briefly. "Miss, I'd prefer it if we didn't beat around the bush. I think you and I both know they're not rumours."

"You're right, sorry," she admitted. "It's just some of the townsfolk can be a tad sceptical so I'm trying to watch what I say."

"I'm no stranger to sceptics, trust me." Molly rose a curious eyebrow and Calvin, noting her confusion, explained: "I should have elaborated on my job sooner. The majority of my work focuses on uncovering abandoned ruins and deciphering ancient scripts. I've travelled to numerous towns but so far I've found that Castanet Island is the most unique." He paused and frowned for a moment. "And yet, not many of my colleagues believe me when I talk about the supernatural influences running rampant in this town."

She cocked her head, a lock of auburn hair falling prettily across her cheek as she did. "Can you blame them? It's a lot to swallow."

"Molly, it's our job to be open-minded. The fact that so many people in my field disregard it as fiction is -" Calvin broke off and sighed, his gaze drifting to the peach-haired man behind the counter. "Well, I'm sure you know how it feels."

"It's quite the bitter pill," Molly quipped.

"That it is."

Silence stretched out between them until Molly somewhat humbly informed him: "I've already rung the red bell."

"Really? That's quite impressive." Calvin straightened in his seat. "Do you mind telling me what happened? I've read about the theory but I'd love to have a first-hand account, if you don't mind of course."

Molly shook her head and paused to grin at him. "The bell played a beautiful melody and that was that." Calvin's shoulders drooped in disappointment; he had taken her words seriously. She cringed. "The carpenters probably forgot to mention my bad sense of humour…" He nodded, an amused smile emerging on his lips a little too late. She sighed. "Anyway, it rang and then – boom - the carpenters had fire again and everyone's kitchens started to work properly."

"How remarkable of you." Calvin said. His voice was low and steady but filled with admiration. Molly flushed slightly as the blood rose to her cheeks, warm and pink.

"If you want I can show you it," she offered. "It's actually at the mines, conveniently enough."

"Only if it's not too much trouble. I know running the farm must be incredibly time consuming for you."

Molly shook her head. "It's no trouble at all. It's not even harvesting time yet so I'm practically doing nothing at the moment." Her mind drifted to her conversation with Chase earlier, the memory rising to the forefront of her mind like a wave washing against the shore. "Besides, it's nice to have someone who doesn't think I'm crazy for saying all this stuff."

"I doubt Chase thinks you're crazy," Calvin said reassuringly and Molly looked at him sharply – how had he known? They stared at each other for a moment and there was something in his eyes that made her feel transparent, a depth that suggested that in the time their gazes were interlocked he was able to sift through the deepest and darkest crevices of her mind.

She blinked and turned away. "So, have you seen the bell?"

Calvin shook his head and Molly's lips puckered in disappointment. He must have seen this because he added: "I'll keep an eye out from now on. Truthfully, I've been more interested in the history of them."

"The history? What do you mean?" Molly asked, curiosity piqued.

"Miss, I don't think this is the first time an individual has attempted to collect the bells," Calvin told her, calmly, seriously.

"Attempted?" She prompted.

"The other day I came across an old painting in one of the Garmon caves." Calvin told her before going on to elaborate, "Admittedly it has eroded considerably, but I could still make out an illustration of a girl on the peak of the mountain. She's surrounded by what I believe to be fire and there's some unmistakable carvings of bells and music notes in the background."

"I've never heard of anything like that before, but I'll see what information I can – pun intended - dig up." He laughed politely at her joke and pleased with his reaction, Molly continued, "So, when do you want to see the red bell?"

"How does Thursday sound? I'd suggest tomorrow but it's my day off and I won't be at the mines…" Calvin said, his voice trailing off hopefully.

Molly smiled at him. "Don't worry, Thursday sounds perfect."

Chase had reached the halfway point of his shift and he needed a drink. Badly. And a cigarette - he definitely, definitely needed a cigarette. Chase had smoked his first one years ago and even the recent euphoria of being able to cook properly was not enough to diminish his addiction. Just as Chase started putting away the ingredients he had used to make Molly's salad – and mentally mixing himself a whisky on the rocks – a sigh resonated behind him. Ignoring it, he placed the carton of eggs in the bar fridge. The man sighed again. Chase dragged his fingers through his peach coloured hair. Another sigh.

Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, Chase spoke up, his back still to the man. "Are you honestly just going to stand there and sigh, Julius?"

"Chase! How did you know it was me? Let me guess…it was my divine perfume!"

This could have been true, Chase thought, had Julius not been following the same lovesick routine since the beginning of spring. From what Chase had gathered from their previous conversations – which, unfortunately, were turning into somewhat of a regular occurrence - Julius was absolutely besotted with Candace but had thus far refrained from approaching her. Instead, he had taken to watching her from a distance and telling anyone who would listen just how perfect he thought she was.

"Yeah, it was the lavender," he dead-panned as he turned around.

"Oh if you're going to be like that then I'll just order," said Julius, sulking.

With his thumb Chase gestured towards the table where Luna and Candace were. "Kathy's over there."

He shooed her figure away with a wave of his hand. "I'll just order here, it's no trouble."

"Maybe not for you…" Chase muttered but he grabbed the pen and paper next to him and faced Julius anyway. Bored: "We can't do any dishes with fish today. What do you want?"

"But Chase, fish is fabulous for the complexion!" Chase shrugged, wordlessly signalling to Julius that it wasn't his problem. Frowning, Julius continued melodramatically: "This is a tragedy."

"I agree. Shakespeare could have based Hamlet off Castanet's diminishing fish supply," was Chase's acerbic response.

Oblivious to – or more likely choosing to ignore – the chefs snark, Julius lamented loudly: "Now what on earth will I order?"

"You have thirty seconds to decide." Chase paused before counting down slowly, "30…29…28…27 -"

"- I'll have a yam-cake!"

Chase whirled around and began assembling the ingredients for the cake in a mixing bowl; he cracked an egg over it and swiftly measured a cup of sugar. Fingers began tapping behind him – thud, thud, thud – and Chase began whisking the ingredients.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Chase added the yams.

Thud.

Thud.

He bent over and put the cake tin in the oven.

Thud.

Chase swore under his breath. "Damn it Julius, you're driving me crazy."

The drumming stopped and Chase relished in the three seconds of silence that passed before Julius said: "Not as crazy as Candace is driving me! All I can think about is her, all day and all night! Do you know what I did today? I climbed Garmon mine and found a blue feather for her. I ruined my favourite pair of shoes for her!" He emphasised ruining his favourite shoes like it was akin to the grandest of all romantic gestures and perhaps to him, Chase thought, it was.

"You do know there's people you can pay to listen to your problems?" Chase asked.

"Chase, I don't know why you insist on acting like this," he sang. Chase frowned.

"Acting like what?"

"You're a bartender, it's your job to listen to my woes!"

"I'm a chef not a bartender," Chase said, correcting him angrily before muttering under his breath, "and I do not get paid nearly enough…"

Julius's ruby eyes narrowed mischievously. "Pardon, Chase." He took a breath and raised his voice deliberately, "did you just say you don't get paid enough?"

Hayden, who had been within earshot as he stacked bottles of wine on the shelf, shot Chase a look before telling him, "You get paid plenty, boy."

Julius smiled innocently, his eyes twinkling like the devil; the chef glowered at him. "You're on thin ice, Julius," Chase warned. "There's plenty of rat poison around here that I could slip into your next meal. No one would know except me."

"You're threatening to poison me?!" Julius cried out, his eyes falling onto Hayden at once.

"Chase, stop threatening our customers," said Hayden automatically.

With an effort of extreme will the chef bit back a petulant "He started it". Instead: "Relax, I'd never act on them." And then, quite haughtily: "After all, rat poison would completely ruin the taste of my cooking."

Hayden laughed loudly. "That's my chef! Got his priorities in order, doesn't he?"

"Oh yes, quite." Julius said insincerely, raising a thin eyebrow in the chef's direction.

"Speaking of 'priorities', Kathy is still taking that tables orders," griped Chase. A brief inspection of the table moments ago had revealed to him that Molly had joined Candace and Luna's table and that Kathy and the farmer had begun a deep conversation; their profiles, bathed in the yellow light of the bar, were frowning as they spoke.

"She must be doing a thorough job then," Hayden said wryly. Chase bit back an audible groan – Kathy had been "serving" the same table for well over ten minutes.

"Good customer service is just so important," Julius said with a nod.

Chase ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. "I hate you both."

Before Julius could reply the timer on the oven dinged and in a flurry of swift movements Chase crouched down behind the counter, retrieved the cake, sliced and plated it, and plonked it in front of Julius; there was a dull chink as the china of the plate collided with the mahogany of the counter.

Julius' glanced at it before his eyes wandered off into the distance, a dreamy expression painted on the curve of his lips. "Chase, I never knew such beauty existed until I saw her."

"My cake is the best." Chase agreed, eyeing his yam-cake with pride.

"Not the food you silly man – Candace. She's like a magnificent swan in a room of ugly ducklings."

"Here's a crazy thought Julius, sit with her and stop bothering me. I'll even halve the price of your cake if you do."

"No he won't!" Hayden called out, his head reappearing from behind the shelves to give Chase a disapproving head-shake.

"It's rude to eavesdrop," Chase countered at once, annoyed.

Before Hayden could reply, Julius chimed in: "Did you know Candace is the only girl who has hair as nice as mine?"

Hayden and Chase exchanged looks before the latter replied, "No Julius, I didn't."

He gasped. "Oh, but how could you not? It's such a pretty shade of blue!"

This time it was Chase who sighed; he needed a cigarette. Badly.

"He forgot your anniversary?" Molly marvelled to the blonde waitress standing beside her and she took a sip of the cocktail Candace had given her moments ago. "You can't be serious…surely he didn't?"

"Deadly serious," replied Kathy. "One hundred percent serious." She paused to reconsider her words, a sad smile on her lips. "No, I'm Chase-when-he's-cooking serious."

"Oh Kathy, we're going to need so much more alcohol," said Molly sympathetically and, as if to reaffirm this fact, she took another sip.

Luna tossed her pigtails behind her shoulders and propped her head onto her elbows, her palms facing upwards and gripping her cheeks. "Honestly, why do we even bother with men?"

"Goddess knows." Kathy replied. Molly nodded in agreement.

Candace's eyes fell on the purple haired man at the bar. "S-some are okay…"

Luna snorted. "Julius is more of a woman than Kathy and Molly combined – he hardly counts."

"It's the sad truth." Molly agreed, demurely tugging at the fraying ends of her shorts.

Kathy, meanwhile, slid her hands face-down along the upper half of her body, gesturing to her obvious hourglass figure. "Speak for yourself, I happen to be quite the lady."

"Really? I don't think a lady would be caught dead doing half of the things you do with Owen." Luna argued and Kathy blushed. "Face it, you're no better than Molly."

"I suppose he does wear more glitter than I do…" Kathy admitted reluctantly and then, abandoning all pretences of working, she sat down next to Molly.

Luna grinned triumphantly. "Exactly."

"More cocktails?" Molly asked, turning to face the group around her. "This rounds on me."

"Have I ever mentioned how glad I am that you moved here?" Kathy said, her lips quirking in a small smile.

"Maybe once or twice. But only when I offer to shout you cocktails, strangely enough.

"That is weird."

"Must be a coincidence."

"Definitely."

The smoke was captivating.

It bloomed slowly from the end of Chase's smouldering cigarette and spiralled into the air; thin, silver wisps that bled into the evening sky before ebbing away. Chase waited for the last trace of his drag to vanish before inhaling again, this time more slowly. His body rippled with pleasure as he gradually drowned in it, in the sensation, and in the way the cigarette made his entire body relax.

It was bliss.

Chase tilted his head back and exhaled; tendrils of smoke curled around his face and there was this brief moment - it was barely even a second - where a grey haze completely concealed his horizon. In that moment, in those few milliseconds, he pretended he was anywhere but Castanet.

That was bliss, too.

Later - after his final puff - Chase stared at the dock and at the boat in the distance. It was a tiny speck dotting the ocean and he imagined a night, much like this one, when a man much like him had boarded that very ship and sailed away. Chase wondered, and not for the first time (or last for that matter) why Gill had left this town. He had had everything – a fiancé, a future as Mayor of this town…

No, not everything, whispered a small voice in the back of Chase's mind. There had been days, he remembered, when Gill had been all dark edges and sunken cheeks, and times when the light would strike his eyes and there would be nothing but lifelessness in their blue depths, two empty voids set on a ghostly pale face. He shivered.

A loud flurry of footsteps broke his reverie and seconds later Kathy was next to him. "Ugh Chase, you've been smoking."

He gave her a side-along glance in contempt. "What gave it away? The lighter in my hand or the cigarette butt on the ground?"

Her emerald eyes narrowed. "You smell like an ashtray. It's disgusting."

"Shouldn't you be with Prince Charming right now?" Chase asked, referring to Owen.

Kathy clucked her tongue in annoyance. "Don't be obnoxious. I know you overheard me telling Luna and Candace that Owen forgot our anniversary." His face remained expressionless and she went on, "What would you do if you were me?"

"Honestly? I'd buy a longer skirt and not date tossers," said Chase unapologetically.

Kathy tugged the fabric on her skirt defensively. "Ugh, you're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yes, only because you tell me every second day – otherwise I'd surely forget," Chase replied with an eye roll.

"I can't believe I was actually expecting him to propose to me tonight," confessed Kathy, her voice trembling slightly. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

"Yeah." Seeing Kathy's stricken expression, Chase sighed. "No, Kathy. That wasn't what I meant." He paused, contemplating his next words carefully. "Look, you women like to overcomplicate things that are actually quite simple. You and Owen have been dating for four years, if he hasn't asked you to marry him by now then it's because he doesn't want to be your husband."

"Chase, why would you say something like that?" Kathy asked softly and she swallowed audibly. "I know you don't like to sugar-coat stuff but would it kill you not to be cruel?"

"I'm not trying to be cruel; I'm trying to tell you that you're wasting your time with him."

"I'm not!" She said hotly, fire in her eyes. "What would you know anyway? It's not like you've ever had a serious girlfriend."

"Fine. I'm wrong, whatever," Chase said insincerely. He pulled out another cigarette and placed it between his teeth. "But do me a favour and next year when he's forgotten just like tonight – and you're still not married - don't come whining to me."

"As you wish," she said angrily before she began striding off, her fists clenched at her sides. She halted. "And when we're engaged you'll be the first person I'll say 'I told you so' to."

"I won't be holding my breath."

"What a shame," was all she said before disappearing into the distance.

Chase lit his cigarette; inhale, exhale, bliss.

In the late hours of the evening, just before midnight, and when the moon was still hanging quite low in the clear spring sky, Julius strolled down the path past Molly's farm and towards Sonata Tailoring. His heart submitted to the nerves inside of him with a burst of frantic heartbeats, and the object in his hand – a blue feather – began to tremble in his shaking hands.

The towns lights were off and save for the blonde barmaid meandering away from the docks, the night was quiet and still, and at this time, just before the clock struck twelve, Julius knocked on Candace's door. There was no hesitation as his fist collided with the wood, just three very assured strokes.

He smiled to himself and took a step back, waiting.

Kathy stepped onto the front step of Owen's house and paused. The fire was flickering inside and its orange glow seeped out the crack in the door and onto her feet. Puffs of steam billowed out the brick chimney in pearly streams, sure and steady. The home had every appearance of being inviting, and yet Kathy was suddenly very nervous. She could hear Chase's voice in her head, "You and Owen have been dating for four years, if he hasn't asked you to marry him by now then it's because he doesn't want to," and she could see the image of him - and that arrogant, certain set of his jaw - clearly in the back of her mind.

What if he had been right?

She dispelled the thought immediately with a shake of her head. Chase was wrong; Owen loved her, he did. He would want to marry her, he would.

Kathy bit her lip and knocked.

Candace opened the door and Julius gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. She was beautiful, blindingly so. Blue hair tumbled around her in a sleek waterfall of curls and she was almost marooned inside of it all. Her eyes widened when she saw it was him, and they were so bright and so clear in the light of the streetlamp that they shone like glass. There was a pause in which neither of them spoke – Julius was awestruck and Candace was frozen in shock – and then, finally, Candace collected herself by tightening the white dressing gown she was wearing. "Julius, w-what are you doing here? It's late and –"

Julius licked his lips. "I couldn't sleep. I wanted – no, needed – to see you."

"O-oh?" She squeaked softly. Julius smiled and regained his composure. He reached inside the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the feather he had spent all day retrieving. Candace gasped.

"Oh my. That's a b-blue feather," Candace stammered and her fingers gripped the doorknob next to her for support.

Julius took a deep breath. "I know we've had our misunderstandings in the past and my behaviour was rather atrocious…but the truth is I've always admired you."

"Julius," Candace breathed, her lips widening in a shy smile.

"I honestly just couldn't bear another second of not knowing how you felt about me." Julius paused and took a step forward. Candace didn't move. "Candace, oh lovely Candace, you are by far the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and I would love nothing more then to treasure you forever." He paused to take a deep breath. "I know my hair is a wreck right now and I have bags the size of the moon under my eyes but would you consider marrying me?"

There was a jangling of keys and the clicking of lock before Owen was towering over Kathy, his thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He yawned. "Kathy, what's up? Miss me already?"

Kathy smiled at him. Even though his eyes were drooping and his hair was sticking up more than usual he still looked incredibly handsome. "Oh Owen, I always miss you."

He gave her a fond look. "That's nice baby, I missed you too."

He loved her, he did.

"Look, I know it's late but can we talk for a minute?"

He shrugged and stepped outside. "Sure."

He would marry her, he would.

"I love you Owen, I always have." Kathy tugged the end of her ponytail. "We've been dating for four years now and I guess…" She trailed off and bit her lip before continuing, "I guess, there was something I wanted to ask you. I mean, I know it's usually the man and I don't even have a blue feather but I love you and why wait?"

Chase was wrong. He would say yes, he had to.

Kathy paused to see if he would say anything. He didn't. "I guess what I'm saying is, Owen, will you marry me?"

And yet, for a moment, all Owen did was stare.

Candace blinked. "Julius…this is so unexpected."

He pouted. "Well, I was actually going for 'grand romantic gesture'".

"Oh no! I just mean…" Her sentence tapered off and she blushed furiously. "It's just…I-I've never dated anyone or even been kissed for that matter…gosh, Julius, are you sure you want to marry me?"

Julius laughed as a torrent of butterflies swept through him; his pulse quickened. "Candace, I'm the one asking you." He could feel his heart gasping for air. "So, can you please stop torturing me and give me an answer?"

"I accept" Then, almost in slow motion, Candace nodded and took the feather. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Unable to express his delight Julius beamed at her. "I certainly hope not."

"Sorry, I've just imagined this moment so many times…," Candace confessed quietly and she once again tightened her dressing gown.

Julius took a step towards her. "You say you've never been kissed before?" Candace shook her head. "Ever?" He asked again and she nodded."Then please allow me."

Gently, so gently, Julius cupped Candace's cheeks with his hands and drew her close. She was slender and surprisingly tall; he was only a couple of inches taller than her. He tilted her face up to his and it was almost dizzying for him to be this close to her, to the woman he had loved for so long – he could have counted each and every eyelash framing her striking blue eyes. A heartbeat later Julius closed the space between them, bringing his mouth delicately onto hers. She gasped at the unfamiliar sensation before closing her eyes, one hand clutching the feather and the other threading itself into the fabric of Julius's coat.

Calvin sat outside the Ocarina Inn far later than he usually would; the crisp evening air keeping him alert while he read the yellowing pages of his book:

'Like most plumages, a blue feather is a symbol of spiritual triumph. However, blue feathers are unique in that they represent ones connection to themselves, both to their heart and soul. In smaller regions giving a blue feather to another is considered to be the most sacred of all romantic gestures as you are giving yourself – spirit, mind and body – to another. With the popular notion of 'soul mates' this tradition has been modernized over time and it currently stands that a blue feather accompanies a wedding proposal and, if accepted, symbolises the eternal union of two people's spirits...'

With the exception of the rhythmic rustling of papers and the occasional chirp of the cicadas it was silent and with each page turned Calvin became more and more immersed in his book. In fact, he was so lost in learning about the traditions of Castanet that he failed to notice the waitress from the Brass Bar rush into the Inn, iridescent tear tracks staining her cheeks.