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The Blue Reverberation was infamously known for being one of the least, if not the very least, mentally sound Color fixer. He seemed akin to an undomesticated dog on a fraying leash only one gentle breeze away from snapping. While many other Color fixers such as the Indigo Elder and the Red Mist were well-known for their strength and feats, the Blue Reverberation was better known for his unpredictability and tendency to mishandle the power and influence he had. He, as with any other high-grade fixer, knew the City’s taboos well – however, with the Blue Reverberation, a pleasant meet-and-greet could turn into toeing the line between breaking a taboo or not at a single sporadic whim.
At least, that’s how Yan Vismok viewed the Blue Reverberation.
Which is what made Yan’s most recently received prescript absolutely terrifying.
“Within the next 36 hours, take the Blue Reverberation out to dinner.”
Yan had been appointed as a Messenger of the Index a mere 8 days ago. He had received the appointing Prescript in a fit of self-hatred and misery, and the news of his promotion hardly helped his situation at all. He would never be thankful for anything the Index did for him – however, since his promotion to Messenger, Yan hadn’t received a single awful Prescript meant for him, and he found an uneasy calm in it.
Of course, his calming conviction that being a Messenger protected him from enacting prescripts himself was quickly broken.
“Wow! Yan gets a dinner date!” Came Gloria’s ever-cheerful voice, breaking Yan out of his momentary shocked paralysis.
For some reason, all three Proxies in the room saw zero problems or difficulty with Yan’s Prescript.
The Prescript certainly wasn’t the worst Prescript Yan had received. Previous Prescripts had forced his hand to be the perpetrator of horrific acts – acts that would never leave him, even after his final breath.
But this... Not only was it absolutely humiliating, but it had the capacity to kill him. Yan didn’t want to die – he had just found reason to keep on living.
Outside of the main threat of becoming a meat plaything for the Blue Reverberation, there were more difficulties that the Prescript brought. Not only did Yan have absolutely zero experience with asking people out to dinner (romance had never been at the forefront of his mind), but he only had 36 hours to track down the Blue Reverberation and convince him to let Yan treat him to dinner.
“The Prescripts were always feasible,” his assigned Proxy as a Proselyte had once told him.
The time was 9:26 PM. So, assuming ‘dinner’ meant a meal during the evening, Yan effectively had less than 24 hours to complete his Prescript.
Fantastic.
Gloria bid him goodbye – she had gotten attached to Yan since the day they met 5 days ago – and Yan nodded and bid her farewell as well.
Yan wasn’t able to sleep that night – his head raced with any loopholes he could find, but he couldn’t find anything he felt was safe to risk. Sure, some people could consider dinner to happen at 10 or 11 PM, but did the Prescript? If it were someone he knew, or someone within the Index, he could easily explain that the invitation to dinner was ordered by a Prescript in order to bypass the awkward nature of a dinner request entirely. But how would the Blue Reverberation react to such reasoning? Yan doubts he’d be very helpful in response – there’s no doubt he has more important and interesting things to do than to be helping a stranger fulfill his Prescript.
He spent time trying to research where the Blue Reverberation could be, but couldn’t even find a cardinal direction, much less a District, that the Blue Reverberation might be in. He found that the Blue Reverberation had a close connection to the Black Silence, who was most active in I Corp – But I Corp was nearly across the City, and Yan certainly didn’t have the funds for a two-way WARP train ticket. He didn’t appear to have any sort of online presence either, so there was no way
Yan woke up a bit after 8AM after accidentally falling asleep in the early morning. His job as a Messenger involved a lot of travel and work, and the Fingers of the City weren’t typically known for ensuring their members had tolerable working hours. Muttering a quiet swear to himself, he quickly changed to a fresh outfit.
Yan had decided the night prior to define ‘dinner’ as a meal between 5 and 8 PM.
Less than 12 hours on the clock, then.
Yan took a deep breath to ease his nerves over the situation. Getting nervous wouldn’t help anything. He’s lived through worse Prescripts. He’ll go get a coffee first – decaf, because he only likes the taste – and then start asking around about the Blue Reverberation.
The Index complex he lived at had a coffee machine, of course, but Yan couldn’t bear to stay in the living complex for longer than he needed to. For that reason, he typically went to a local coffee shop.
Despite the odd looks he got as a Messenger of the Index visiting a small and homey cafe, the shop always helped calm him when he was feeling upset.
When Yan reached the front of the line, he heard the front door swing open loudly and unceremoniously, accompanied by the sound of humming. The entire cafe goes dead silent, except for a single whispered sentence:
“That’s– That’s the Blue Reverberation, isn’t it–?”
Ah. He supposes his old Proxy was right – A Prescript is always feasible.
People shuffle out of line to allow the Blue Reverberation immediate passage to the front of the line. He doesn’t need to stop walking even once since entry, the line parts the second he’s less than 5 feet away. He swings his scythe to the slow beat of his song as he walks, and Yan tightens his grip on his greatsword. He’s confident in combat, but knows he wouldn’t stand a second’s chance against a Color fixer – The tightened grip on his weapon is only to ease his soul.
Yan doesn’t move from his spot as first in the line. He needs to make some sort of impression if he wants a chance to fulfill his Prescript, but the repercussions for his act of defiance scares him.
It also gives him a high – the idea of getting to deny a Color fixer.
The Blue Reverberation’s footsteps stop behind him, but the humming and rhythmic swing of his scythe continue. Unexpectedly, he makes no hostile movement to Yan and shows no signs of confrontation.
“...A cold coffee brewed with oat milk and cream, please,” Yan says, voice steady despite the situation, “and... I’d also like to pay for the order of the person behind me.”
It would be cheaper than a WARP train ticket, anyways.
Yan’s statement causes the Blue Reverberation’s song to cease and the scythe to slow to a halt. It’s not long until he hums again; However, this time, it’s a short note of amusement.
“Your voice and face are so calm,” the Blue Reverberation says behind him, and his voice is more upbeat and steady than Yan had originally anticipated, “but I can feel your heart hammering away in your chest. I’d just like the Custard Danish right over there.”
Yan suddenly feels very uneasy – he has an expert control over his display of emotions, but there’s nothing he can do about his bodily functions. It’s made an uncomfortable scenario far worse.
The rhythmic swing of his scythe starts up again, but there is no accompanying song. “I hope you’re not trying to solicit me,” the Blue Reverberation says in a melodic manner that matches the swing of his scythe, “it’s too early in the day, and I already had to deal with two others just this week. Hmm, you wouldn’t believe how obvious some people are with their violent intentions.”
Yan isn’t entirely sure what the Blue Reverberation is referring to, but Yan is certain it isn’t anything he’d want to discuss.
“Nothing like that,” Yan says, and he fights the urge to add an uncertain ‘I think’ afterwards, “I was hoping to talk over coffee. It’s not often I get to meet a Color.”
The Blue Reverberation lets out another short note of amusement. “The Index, right?” he says, voice thoughtful, “what does your Prescript say?”
Yan felt very read, in a very unpleasant manner. His face and composure didn’t change, but he knew his heart rate did – and the knowledge of the Blue Reverberation being able to literally feel his heart rate increase brought a light flush of embarrassment to Yan’s face. His control over his facial features and tone to persuade others he wasn’t affected by the world was his primary defense and safety net: Without it, he felt exposed and vulnerable – two things one really wouldn’t want to feel when facing an extremely high-grade Fixer.
The Blue Reverberation makes no notice that he’s recognized Yan’s continued nervousness and uncomfortability, and Yan sends a mental thank you to the stars.
He doesn’t want to share his Prescript – though there’s a possibility that the Blue Reverberation would agree to humor him, he’d rather take a more surefire route. Considering the Blue Reverberation’s rumored sporadic behavior, it was far better to be safe than sorry.
“My Prescripts are none of your concern,” Yan says, voice steady as ever, but he quickly realizes that the cold statement is worse than if he had just been honest.
The Blue Reverberation smiles amusedly, as though Yan is nothing more than a feather on a string to be batted around. It sends a chill down his spine. “You know,” the Blue Reverberation starts slowly, “I could kill you in a second. It would take a single note.”
Yan hears the barista behind him whimper. Yan himself isn’t particularly shaken any further from the Blue Reverberation’s words – it was a reality he already understood as possible since he read the Prescript, and the Blue Reverberation’s tone sounded more testing than upset.
“Yes, I know,” Yan says, “Do you plan to?”
The swing of the Blue Reverberation’s scythe comes to a halt once again. The room is deathly silent, and even the people who were trying to quietly leave the cafe have completely stilled. The Blue Reverberation stays silent as well, no humming to be heard, and Yan realizes that the Blue Reverberation is reading him.
Yan steadies himself, refusing to give the Blue Reverberation much to read.
The silence is interrupted by the Blue Reverberation’s cheerful laugh, and the scythe’s swing resumes. “I have time this morning,” the Blue Reverberation says once his laugh has subsided, “I’ll humor the Index just this once. Add a small mint tea to the order – Mm, with honey and citrus if you have it.”
Yan hates being referred to as ‘the Index’. His decision to ask for a talk was of his planning, not the Index’s – right?
The Blue Reverberation – Yan really had to get his name – left the line before the barista had time to respond. He clicked his tongue twice towards Yan in the same manner a human would try and get a cat to walk over to them. Yan hated that too, but wouldn’t dare to make another scene.
Yan needed to convince the Blue Reverberation to go to dinner with him tonight. Not only did he feel like he was already off to a poor start, but he had absolutely no idea how to navigate a social situation like this.
Maybe it would be easiest to just reveal the Prescript, and hope for compliance.
“So, what could the Index possibly want with me?” The Blue Reverberation prodded.
...Nevermind.
Yan was now determined to get this done without the assistance of the Prescript. He hated being viewed as just ‘the Index’, and revealing the Index’s Prescript he was following would only further that idea.
“Not the Index,” Yan responded quickly, voice carrying just the barest of hostility, “just me.”
The Blue Reverberation hummed. “Then, what do you want from me?”
He keeps his hand idly on his scythe, even while being sat down, so Yan does the same with his greatsword.
“I’d like to first learn your name,” Yan says.
“Holding a research project?” Argalia responds curiously, “I’ve been told not to give my information out to pesky journalists, you know.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Yan responds, “my question is for curiosity’s sake.”
There’s another period of silence, and Yan acknowledges it as time the Blue Reverberation spends observing and reading him.
“Argalia,” he hums, voice quiet so the others in the cafe can’t hear. He rests his weapon on the table and leans in towards Yan, head resting on his hands.
“Yan,” Yan replies. Releasing his weapon would cause him to feel unsafe, so he keeps his hand on his greatsword. Who knew if the Blue Reverberation — Argalia — was trying to lure him into a sense of safety?
“Yan,” Argalia repeats, slowly, and the way he sounds out Yan’s name makes Yan’s ears warm. “It’s a cute name, you know?”
How patronizing.
“What else?” Argalia prodded. Yan could feel a steady pulse emanating from Argalia’s scythe, buzzing against the table.
How was Yan supposed to conduct this? He had gone to coffee with others a few times, but it had always been with a friend or close associate. And it was almost never initiated by him.
Argalia leans in a bit closer, and Yan leans back instinctively. His eyes are shut, but there’s a certain aura of power emanating from the other man that Yan can sense. A side effect (or benefit, if one sees it as such) of repeated augmentations and surgeries.
Think of something, Yan.
“If you don’t have anything, I’ll be on my way,” Argalia says, leaning back.
Yan sits back up straight as well, and rushes to force his mind to conjure something. He was good at coming up with ideas on the spot – but before he could speak, Argalia let out another loud and cheery laugh. “You’re so expressive, you know,” Argalia says, “what other fun expressions can your face make?”
But... Yan didn’t think he made any notable expression in their time together.
Yan sighs and lets his eyebrows turn up, rendering his attempt at keeping a perfectly steady and neutral face unfeasible. He wasn’t sure if Argalia was threatening him or flirting with him, but he’d rather have the latter – barely.
“I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Yan says suddenly, and he can feel his face heat up a bit from the embarrassment, “I... think your voice is pretty.”
“Is that right?” Argalia says, in an amused tone that very clearly states that he knows Yan is lying straight to his face.
Well, it’s not a lie. His voice is pretty, but it’s not why Yan is asking.
“Yes,” Yan replies, because his need to take Argalia to dinner was honest. He really hates being read like an open book.
Argalia hums a short tune before taking hold of his scythe and standing up. “Pick a place, then – somewhere walkable. I’m not so fond of vehicles,” he says with a coy smile before grabbing the pastry and tea he had ordered and walking off.
Oh, Yan had entirely forgotten about the ‘coffee’ part of their coffee chat.
But... Did that seriously just work?
Yan let out a heavy sigh the second the front door closed behind Argalia, tension releasing itself from his body. He went to the counter to pick up his coffee before sitting back down and sipping it meekly.
Yan spent the remainder of his day picking a dinner spot — he decided on a small stir fry spot in District 12 — and wondering how exactly he was supposed to transmit the information to Argalia.
He kept an eye out as he delivered Prescripts around the District, hoping he would run into Argalia. It wasn’t until he sat down in his room, feeling a bit defeated and nervous, that he heard a knock on his window.
“Good evening,” came Argalia’s charismatic voice once Yan opened the window. They were both three stories up – Argalia was in a low squat, using the small window ledge to stand on and a small pipe fixture to stop himself from falling off. He was dressed in a navy azure suit and a light gold tie. He didn’t have his signature scythe with him, but Yan doubted that made him any less dangerous.
“...Good evening,” Yan replied politely, and decided he didn’t really want to know how Argalia had known exactly where he lived. “I’ll be down in a minute,” Yan continued, moving to close the window.
“Nonsense,” Argalia laughed, and he held out the hand that wasn’t clawing onto the pipe fixture.
Yan furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head lightly. “I must first check out at the front entrance,” he explained, “the Index needs to know when I am within their facilities at all times.”
“I know,” Argalia hummed, “isn’t that what makes the prospect of coming with me all the more enticing?”
Yan couldn’t argue with that.
Yan shed his white outer cloak a bit awkwardly under Argalia’s gaze – it felt like PG stripping. He didn’t have anything fancier than his Index uniform (he hardly had any outfits but his Index uniform, honestly), and thus stayed in the same fitted black suit he had been in all day. He felt a little underdressed – despite being in a similar outfit to Argalia, it was still his work clothes, while it was clear Argalia had changed for the occasion.
The two had met less than 12 hours ago – was the dinner really that serious that the Blue Reverberation would change into an outfit specifically for the dinner?
There goes Yan’s tentative plan to buy Argalia dinner then escape.
Yan grabbed his greatsword – he didn’t care if Argalia didn’t have his weapon, Yan refused to be without his – and made his way over to Argalia’s still outstretched hand.
It was a bit awkward to climb out of the window with a greatsword half your size and weight, but Yan was able to get both his feet out the window using Argalia’s arm as leverage.
Yan’s eyebrows furrowed a bit again. “Now, how am I supposed to– Ah?!”
In a single blink of an eye, Argalia pulled Yan off the windowsill and to his chest, letting go of the pipe fixture. In a panic, Yan scrambled and clawed onto Argalia, holding his greatsword close to his own chest. He heard Argalia laugh as they fell, the noise of the laugh far louder than the sound of them cutting through the air.
Yan braced himself for impact as they neared the ground; However, at the last moment, Argalia kicked the Index complex wall with a foot and propelled the two of them away from the building and a bit upwards. Argalia landed gracefully on two feet, with a short two-note hum.
...Were all high-grade fixers so theatrically eager to show off their power?
“It’s a bit romantic, isn’t it?” Argalia teases, and Yan works to catch his breath.
“...Could I be put down?” Yan asks exasperatedly.
To Yan’s appreciation, Argalia complies and sets him down on the ground with a smile.
Yan leads him to the dinner spot he had pre-planned. There’s no noise between the two of them except for a tune Argalia hums that Yan doesn’t recognize. The song he hums sounds distant and old, like it’s a song Argalia has been singing for all his life.
Once the two were seated inside the venue, Argalia resumed his curious and prodding look. Though Yan wasn’t looking at him, the way he tapped his fingers to an unknown beat was enough to let Yan know he was still very curious about the purpose of their dinner date.
“Are you waiting for something?” Yan asked, a single eyebrow raised.
The tapping stopped abruptly, and Argalia went entirely silent. The sudden silence brought a sense of unease into Yan’s stomach that he hadn’t felt since the coffee chat. But then, Yan felt a shift in the air, and quickly raised his hand and hit Argalia’s hand – which was only a few centimeters away from his face.
“...Seriously?” Yan said, unamused, and Argalia let out another laugh. “I thought you couldn’t see,” Argalia said lightheartedly, “what do you close your eyes for, then?”
“There have been other people who have tried similar things,” Yan explained, careful to keep aware of other playful shifts in the air, “a sudden silence typically means someone is trying to plan something.”
Argalia hummed. “I won’t try it again,” he said, “so you can let your guard down.”
Yan had found out that the tension had left his body far before he paid the bill and fulfilled his Prescript. Argalia fit Yan’s preconception fairly well – He didn’t seem entirely stable and Yan doubted the Head really controlled him. However, his charismatic and sporadic nature gave Yan a feeling of freedom that he hadn’t felt since he first signed up to protect his family through the Index. Throughout his life, Yan felt as though he always had to act as a statue of obedience lest he get struck down – Spending the evening with Argalia outside of the Index’s grasp or knowledge let Yan feel like himself when no other situation around him did.
It was nice. Getting to live as himself for two hours.
Once they finished eating and Yan paid the bill, he decided to finally reveal what his Prescript said.
“Ah, so that’s what it was,” Argalia said, and Yan could hear a bit of unexpected disappointment in the other’s voice, “there’s always something. I suppose this means we won’t be spending the night together?”
The implications bring an immediate flush to Yan’s face. “What? Of– Of course not,” he is quick to affirm, “the Prescript has been fulfilled, but...”
Yan takes a deep breath before continuing.
“...I wouldn’t be opposed to having a second dinner without the Prescript,” he finishes.
Argalia takes another few seconds to observe and read Yan. Yan isn’t scared to be read this time – there’s nothing he has to hide.
“Alright,” Argalia finally says, and he speaks through a coy smile, “but bring any ulterior motive, and I’ll find every pleasure possible in cutting you open. Understand?”
Yan feels his heart skip a beat – he’s certain Argalia feels his heart skip a beat as well. He’s not entirely sure whether it’s out of fear or excitement over danger.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Yan replies before Argalia walks off.
Yan takes a few steady breaths before turning around and heading back to the District 12 Index complex.
...Now, how in the world was he supposed to get back inside...?