A/N: Gremio. It was Gremio and he is missing his scar for a reason.

Gray and Blue and Golden

Part 2 // Empyrean Blue

"Hi there."

Oh, for shame. He hadn't even heard anyone approaching. He opened his eyes, lifted his head – ebony locks and all. It felt strangely light without the weight of his bandanna. Sir didn't permit him to slip it on; claiming it was a dirty mangled piece of cloth in dire need of soap and water.

However, persuading Sir that he did not suffer from pneumonia was a much easier task. Seizing the chance, Tir had wisped out of the apartment, into the streets and right into the midst of a sunshine mottled park, which was where he was currently being greeted.

He answered, "Hello."

The stranger took that as an invitation and thus the empty wind-blown space beside him was occupied by a boy under cropped caramel hair. Tir had only glanced at him once in the crisp shade of a beech tree. The air was not humid, was not hot. The breeze was cool and not suffocating. Yet, it was hard to breathe and his breath caught involuntarily in his throat.

"Hey, you alright?" the stranger asked, leaning over to see his face. Tir coughed and went through a pitiful series of futile nods. Stranger had wonderful eyes. "Are you choking? Do you want some water? There's a water fountain over there."

"Fine." He croaked. It must have been the dry air. It was only the dry air, that's all. It couldn't have possibly been anymore than that. "Fine. I'm fine."

"Well, if you're sure…" but Stranger trailed off, eyes still lingering. He was not as gullible as Sir, Tir supposed, and tried even harder to elude him. His coughing fit disappeared as quickly as it had come. It left nothing but a bit of an ache in the back of his throat that he didn't feel at all. There was nothing more than that, no doubt or second thought. He blamed it on the dry air, blamed it on things that couldn't be blamed.

When Stranger was finally convinced that Tir was not going to dehydrate and shrivel like a weed, he relaxed and occupied himself with allowing the wind to lap across his cheeks. It would have been perfectly peaceful, perfectly evading fateful events if Stranger had not piped up three minutes later. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Tir turned to him, answered and watched as Stranger studied him. "What makes you think that?"

"Well," Stranger contemplated, giving a half-hearted shrug, "Your clothes don't look like the ones I'm used to seeing. You look foreign and a little lost. And, you look like a fighter. There aren't many fighters left in Gregminster these days, it's more of a political headquarters. Most fighters, if any, leave for the other cities or go travelling by themselves."

"Oh." Tir said, watching as a little boy on a bicycle raced away from irresponsible parents. "I fight…sometimes, when I have nothing better to do. It wastes the time."

The other boy seemed to think about this for a grand total of three seconds before he spoke again. "Are you lost then?"

"Not really."

"Do you want me to show you around?" Stranger asked, implacable. For a moment, Tir thought he had said that he wasn't lost, but the inviting smile on Stranger's face seemed to tell him otherwise. He also had every notion to repeat what he said, but then again, there was nothing to do, he didn't know this Gregminster like he knew his Gregminster since it had changed so many times, and he was a little bit…lonely. Just a little.

"Where will we go?"

Stranger brightened, stood and thought. "We can go to the practice area around here. Even if there's no fighters, there's still an old abandoned field where some people play around and learn. We can practice together, if you want to. It won't be too crowded. People hardly go there at all, especially not this early. I was looking for someone to practice with anyway." He stopped rambling and looked down at Tir. Hopefully, "Do you want to go?"

"To practice?"

"If you want to, of course."

For a moment Tir said nothing. There was a vague little voice in the back of his head telling him something about Stranger that he couldn't hear. It smoked out of his head when he stood and looked levelly forward. Someone meant a person to practice with, no more poking and slashing at empty air. Someone meant chasing away loneliness, or at least someone to be lonely with. It was such an impossible thought that Tir said, "Let's go."

And they went. Stranger led him through crowded streets and intersections and alleyways. The farther they went, the less people there were, until they reached a secluded grass field surrounded by towering, ghostly buildings that shunned the pretty field with their brick and stone backs. It was cool there, a small afternoon breeze raced through the field, bit at their ankles. It smelled like old bricks and grass, like sunshine and rain.

It was the prettiest place Tir had ever seen.

"This is it." Stranger said. "No one's here yet, because most of them are probably at school."

Tir's eyes wandered to him, like it did every so often since the morning. "Why aren't you at school, then?"

Stranger looked a little sheepish, began tapping his foot against the grassy floor. "I dunno. I'm not exactly the most eager of students when it comes to geometry and literature. Something just told me that it'd be better to stay home today. That sounded like really good advice to me, and now I'm sure it is!"

Tir began to wander, or at least seemed to wander. His weapon was left at home where Sir was sure he couldn't cause any trouble with it, or so he said. Tir hadn't the will to fight against that. He began to search the outskirts of the field for any long and somewhat sturdy item he could use as a makeshift weapon. Anything would do, really. It was only practice, against someone who probably didn't fight that well.

Idly, Tir said, "Why are you so sure?"

Stranger had found a pile of old metal tubes, all which remained from a ransacked fence. As he took one briskly for himself, he tossed another over to Tir with his free hand. It was coupled with another smile. Stranger smiled a lot, it was a nice thing to see. "Well, I found someone to practice with, and met someone who probably isn't as empty-headed as he acts and is probably worth fighting, unlike most of the people in this city."

"For your safety," Tir said calmly, although obviously amused. It had been a long time, since he was amused. It was such a wonderful feeling, since he had forgotten it long ago. "I will assume that you aren't referring to me."

Stranger stopped, smiled again. "You're better this way."

"Better?" Tir said, gripping the metal tube with his gloved hands. He steadied himself on his feet, balanced as a cat. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, at least you're not always frowning inside like you were this morning." Stranger explained, readying himself as well. Had Tir been that obvious, that easily read? The way he stood reminded Tir of someone, of something that he just couldn't remember. It unsettled him the smallest bit, but disappeared when Stranger came charging, and their weapons met. The sound of metal against metal echoed off the shadowy walls, back to their ears.

Tir said nothing, but even Stranger knew that he had heard, because his eyes were bright gold with something other than battle, and the silence that was interrupted by the occasional "clang" was not a deadly one. They moved like the wind, fought like thunder.

"You're a fighter." Tir said, after they both retreated from another clash.

Stranger was breathing hard, his bangs clinging to his forehead. His chest heaved occasionally. So evenly matched were they, that even Tir began to doubt the reality of it all. Neither would fall or crumble, there would be no real victory in this fight. It was a fact that Tir had not realized for decades, for centuries. This blood rushing through his limbs and the excitement, the suspense of a real battle that he had the possibility of losing!

And then it began to burn.

Tir crumbled to the ground, holding his hands and pushing them to the ground. Shoulders shaking and racked with heavy breathing, the makeshift weapon fell to he ground without a sound, cushioned by the waves of wind-blown grass. He could hear the faint sound of Stranger approaching, saying, "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

He hated it. He had always, always hated it. He didn't mind its presence, didn't mind its searing pain, and didn't mind its unquenched hunger. He minded what it did to him, what it did to other people, the fact he couldn't stop it if it began. Tir shied away from Stranger's outstretched hand, not wincing but aching as if burning in flames of hell. His face remained painfully straight and neutral.

"Please…go away." He rasped.

"What?" Stranger questioned with confusion in his eyes. "Do you need help?"

There was no time for explanations. "Just…leave me alone for a moment. I'll be fine. Just…go away for a while. I'll…call you back when I'm fine. It's nothing…at all…"

Tir prayed that Stranger understood and much to his relief, the brown-haired boy nodded numbly, took a few steps backward and then spun around to run at least a few meters from him. It was doubtful if Stranger understood the situation, but he seemed to know that whatever it was, it was better to listen than to ask. That was all Tir asked for, as a small wave of relief swept over him before the pain began to cease. Its hunger was always temporary, but always unquenched. He supposed that the souls of the nocturnal monsters in the wild were tiring it.

When Tir called Stranger back, the boy's expression was easier to read than a book. Stranger was completely baffled and maybe even scared, but before he opened his mouth, Tir, who stared at the ground with empty plain eyes, said, "Don't ask."

"Wh...what?" Stranger stuttered, unable to control the flow of his voice.

He stepped back when Tir looked up at him. He was so ghostly pale and dead looking, as if someone had killed him centuries ago. "Don't."

"Alright." Stranger said, holding out his hand again. "I'll help you up."

The hand was met and greeted with feeble empty air. Tir stood up, stumbled back, stumbled forward, sort of looked at Stranger with this semi-apologetical look. His hands wrung themselves together in front of him, as if one kept the other as a captive. "No." he said, offering a small, reassuring smile that didn't quite fit too well with his eyes, deep and blank and empty. It was such a false look, but it would have to do for the time being. "It's alright."

Stranger said nothing except; "You have to go now, don't you?" It was a statement, not a question.

Tir nodded and stared at the ground intently. He doubted if he should drag his gaze up again to meet Stranger's eyes. There might be doubt there, might be fear or scorn. He kicked the metal fence post away from him, turned and shuffled through the wild, untended tall grass. It would end here. It would have to end here. Soul Eater made sure of that; it was so strict.

Yet, it seemed so close when Stranger called to him, "Thanks again, for practicing with me. I hope you feel better, it'll be alright! I don't think I can help you, but it'll certainly be alright. Hey! What is your name?"

Tir stopped walking, but didn't turn to face him. He wondered if he should speak. That dull aching that wasn't quite so dull in the palm of his hand might show in his voice. But, questions were to be answered. "My name…you can call me anything you want. I haven't got a name." He lied.

Stranger stared at his back. "Oh. That's alright." He replied softly, not quite understanding, not quite satisfied. Tir had begun to walk away again, so he began to yell, just to ensure that Tir heard him. "Hey! If you ever want to practice again, I'll wait in the park for you! My name is Ted!"

Tir kept walking, clutching his wrist until his fingers turned blue.