//------------------------------// // IV // Story: Finding Harmony // by Alice Eddor //------------------------------// "Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator. Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator. Who’s that writin’? John the Revelator, Wrote the book of the seven seals." The rest of the first verse was accompanied by the sounds of his buckled boots and cane heading down the stairs to his favourite blues club in Manehatten. Thankfully, the underground system was still operating. Were it not, he would have a couple problems with a few select people. He pulled a chair out and pushed the red satin table cloth off the seat of it before sitting. He kicked his feet up on the table, taking care not to hit the candle burning dimly on the table, and tilted his hat over his eyes, immersing himself in the music. He was pleased to see that his favourite club was just the same as it was a few hundred years ago, although none of his favourite singers would be there. To be fair to the club though, that tended to happen when one ends up out of the time loop. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, attracting the attention of the sole waitress in the club. She walked quickly over to him, carrying a tray with one empty cup on it. There wasn't a lot of business, only three other people in the club, and she was being fairly relaxed in terms of service. "May I help you sir?" "I'll have a bottle of sparkling water, ice in the glass," he said, in a voice sweet like chocolate, his hand still hanging lazily in the air. The waitress nodded and went off to fetch his drink. She returned and placed a bottle of San Pellegrino and a water glass with three ice cubes in it on the table in front of him. He hadn't shifted his position. "That'll be two bits please," said the waitress. He reached his fingers under the cuff of a yellow glove and pulled out a small coin, held between his index and middle finger, the tip of his middle finger showing through a hole in his glove. Once he felt the coin leave his fingers and expected the waitress to be gone, but her voice interrupted the music again. "Um, two bits, sir." He tilted the brim of his hat up and shifted his eyes to her. "Of course, how could I have misheard?" He stood, pushing his chair back slightly, and faced her, his cane held firmly in his black-gloved right hand. He brushed her hair behind her ear with his other hand, his red eyes locking onto her violet ones, and pulled a second coin from behind her ear. "There you are my dear, two bits." The waitress swallowed, her cheeks going slightly red. "T-thank you, sir. E-enjoy your- water." She turned and walked back to the bar while he sat back down, pouring himself a glass. He took a sip and watched the singer on stage, a young, dark skinned man, absently wondering when she was going to arrive. He had sent her a message when he got out, assuming she would respond almost immediately. With the King off attacking somewhere, she would be the one to meet him. He was confident she would know where to find him. He was almost completely finished his bottle of water when the door to the club opened up. He smiled to himself at its opening, knowing exactly who had come through. A woman with long, greyish-blue hair and skin like the night sky. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the room, quickly locating him. She walked towards him, her heels making high-pitched clicking sounds against the stone floor. He glanced in her direction and rose to meet her as she reached him. "Good evening, milady," he said, reaching for her hand. She looked on him with a slight distain, though she allowed him to kiss it and straighten up. "That would be Your Highness to you." Her voice was snide. He snorted, brushing off her remark. "Whatever you say Chrys. Please, have a seat." He pulled out a second chair and gestured for her to take it. While she sat he gestured for the waitress once again. She walked over to him, looking slightly nervous. "Yes?" "Your finest champagne, two glasses." He produced a bag of bits from seemingly nowhere and handed it over, sending the girl running off to fetch his drink. He returned to his seat, watching Chrysalis attempt to make herself comfortable in the dimly lit club while trying to remain regal. "Discord, your appearance gave Sombra and I quite the start," she said. "We hadn't expected you so suddenly, what do you want?" "What my business always is. There was minor chaos, I'm here to turn it into major chaos." At that moment, the waitress returned with two glasses and a bottle of champagne, which she popped open. She poured two glasses and put them in front of the two customers. Once she was gone, Chrysalis drained her glass in one shot and poured herself a second cup. Discord didn't touch his. "Your services would be- helpful," Chrysalis said slowly. "If you can control yourself." "I always control myself," said Discord with a wink. "Only controlled chaos is good chaos. I know how odd that sounds coming from me." He stretched his arms, his eyes on the ceiling. "As long as I keep control in the chaos, which isn't hard for me, things can get pretty out of hand for everyone else." He laughed outwardly. "Chaos is all about control in the end, and if you can't control it, well, things will get bad. Don't you agree?" Chrysalis sipped her second glass of champagne before answering. "So your saying you're abilities are subjective to how tired you are." "No, I never said that." "Then what-" "I'm saying I can create quite the storm before I have to call it quits." "So you're saying you have a limit." "Even gods have limits, my dear Queen Chrysalis." There was a slight sarcasm in the final sentence that Chrysalis not only picked up on, but also frowned at. This was followed with a complete silence as the singer changed. Once the new one started up, a woman this time, Discord spoke again. "My limits are simply a lot harder to reach than most people’s." Chrysalis regarded him, putting down her empty glass. After a second she said, "Alright, come with me." She stood, Discord following suit, leaving behind an empty glass, a full glass, and a barely touched bottle of champagne.