all the sand in the sea [open]

Smile. Laugh; lightly, don't scare them away. Bow. Smile some more. Throw in a few feathery expressions of gratitude. His head was a sugary cloud. Foggy, without certain shape. Still his body and words moved in all the right ways, like they did every night after a performance. A mountain of fancy gifts stood on the small table of his dressing room. Then again, that little wooden table was rarely empty. No, no, focus. He smiled again and bowed again and he lost count of how many "thank you"s he said before everyone except him was out of the petite room. The door closed and so did his eyes. He stayed there for a moment, clearing that eerie fog and getting back to William. When did Marian become so... tiring?

He opened his eyes again and sighed. A swift pull at the wig and it was off his head and into his backpack. The celerity of habit followed as he undressed and put on his casual clothes, changing visual genders like they were rings on his fingers. His eyes fell back on the gifts. Like always, some where useful and some were not. Some he'd take, some he'd leave to use as decorations in this little backstage room. He was honestly too tired to even lift his hands. Had someone drugged him or something? The heaviness in his limbs seemed unusual. He grabbed a fine bottle of wine from the table and hastily fitted it into his backpack alongside his clothes and wig. Whatever.


A cold breeze hit his face as he stepped out the backdoor of the room and into the real world again. It must have been past midnight. The streets were almost empty, and the stars were brighter than the street lamps. William found himself smiling. He had to admit it; sometimes the eeriness of the night and the low footsteps of strangers were better than loud voices and bright lights. They had their own charm. Like someone gazing into thin air in silence. There was something beyond that you couldn't quite catch and it made Will smile even brighter. Right then.


A few more steps into the inner district and he stopped once more. He threw his backpack further up his shoulder and moved his hands up to his head. His hair was up in a bun since that morning. Might as well let them down and avoid a second headache, right? Right? "If only they fucking..." He fiddled with the thin ribbon for a few seconds, his face forming a frown. Seconds soon became minutes, his arms were stiffening, and he was slowly starting to regret not hiring an assistant.

A sigh of defeat escaped him and his arms fell back to his sides. He truly was tired. Not tired enough though to keep him from smiling at the familiar voice. William turned to face the young man who had kept him occupied the other day with his heroic views on life. When at first he had been the one catching the other in the act, the roles now seemed to have turned. "Oh yes, it seems I do need your help, Mr. Policeman," he said theatrically, with a look of despair in his eyes, which broke into a chuckle a moment after.

The boy looked oddly different without his military uniform. Like a turtle without a cell. Not ugly, just lightened. William liked odd though, so there was no change in his motivated smile as he stared at Alan for quite some time, almost completely forgetting about the tangled ribbon in his hair. He only snapped out of it when he realized that nothing new would happen if they both stood there in silence. He'd found him this fine night, and he wouldn't waste him, even if his head was silently threatening to burst.

He slowly, but casually, walked up to the young man, stopping just inches from his face and lingering there for a second before turning around and looking up so as to make the bun in his hair easily accessible. "I'm leaving it to you then," the edge of his tone held a hint of unintentional laziness; he didn't pay attention to it.

He closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was because of how tired he was or because of that feeling of trust towards Alan came over him. But for the few seconds the other fiddled with the ribbon, William stood there, eyes closed, face directed towards the sky. He felt like a falling feather. When his hair hit his shoulders the feather gently landed and his eyes opened, his neck straightening up again.

With slow movements, he tangled his fingers in his hair, lazily pulling and straightening it into their proper form. It wasn't often he let his hair down outside of his house. But right now, it just felt right. And Will was the type to go by feel rather than anything else. With the same slowness and laziness, he let his hands fall down again, this time taking his shoulders with them too.

He didn't even bother straightening up when Alan came to stand in front of him. He just watched, his smile gone, a neutral face in its place. "You could call it that," he said while sighing unintentionally. A true hero, wasn't he? It was only their second meeting, and yet Alan treated him as well as he'd treat a friend. They weren't friends. William didn't see him as a friend. Maybe Alan didn't either. He oddly smiled at the thought but discarded it right away.

He took a deep breath and rose up with the little energy he had left. "Well, I've had better days. You caught me off guard," he laughed weakly before staring at his face again. The bottle of wine came to mind. He was tired. Never too tired for a conversation, right? Probably. "Hey, uh, are you free right now? I could use someone like you tonight." The lowered eyelids and tired smile might have sent off the wrong message, but again, William didn't pay attention to it.

Without a word and his smile still at play, William pulled the bag off his shoulder and reached inside with his free hand. It only took him two airy movements to pull out the bottle of wine and garishly showcase it in front of Alan (if you call swinging it from left to right "showcasing"). The bag ws pushed back onto his shoulder again, and he huddled the bottle close to his chest as if it were a helpless baby. "You're not underage, are you?" he asked, and it was more of a platonic question than a genuine one.

He was never the drinking type. Alcohol took the fun out of things, in his opinion. You can't live a situation fully when your mind isn't working properly. And yet, there he was, with a bottle of one of the finest wines in the Inner District in his hands, begging an officer of the law to drink with him. "Oh please, Mr. Policeman," he whined, "Please don't let me drink all alone on such a lovely night. What if I get drunk and someone robs me?" He played the damsel in distress quite well for his current state of energy. Eye slightly tilted to the side, brows up, shoulders in.

It only broke for a few seconds as he approached Alan again, a sly grin slowly forming on his lips.

Finally, the hero came out. William gave a genuine smile to the young man's response. He'd never get bored of him at least. He could tell Alan wasn't the type to do things to impress. He didn't accept his offer because he had to by some unwritten law. He just actually cared. And that was one quality that William undoubtedly interested. He closed the gap between them by standing on Alan's side and putting a hand over his shoulders, while the other lightly held the wine bottle, barely keeping it from falling. "I don't think I've seen you with glasses before," Will remarked, pretending to be surprised, but at the same time not expecting any kind of conversation to come out of it.

Without asking, he forced a slow walk down the street by keeping Alan trapped under his arm. He kept quiet for a bit, watching the area around him, interested at a time and lazily at another. The bottle stayed sealed in his hand, waiting for them to arrive at their destination -something which Will still hadn't quite figured out; but that was a minor issue. "So tell me, Mr. Policeman," he redirected his attention back to Alan. "Did any more stealing peasant girls trouble you today?"

Silence befell his companion and William could only raise his brows as they stared into each other's eyes, one questionably lost in thought and the other eager for something --anything. But alas, their little intimate moment didn't last for long. Alan broke the silence, somewhat shaken, with a sorrowful exclamation about how there were now less thieves in the Inner district. A policeman, sad for the lack of small crime around the rich men's premises. He could hardly keep the satisfied grin from surfacing. "Oh, shame, shame!" An amused laugh was in order too, but he didn't get a chance at it.

"My occupation?" he repeated dully. He looked at Alan briefly, then turned his eyes to the street in front of them. "Hmm." His occupation, huh? What was his occupation? Was it singing? Was it charming old men with a wig and some lipstick? Or was it thieving? Or maybe it was just watching people. Though, he didn't get any coin from the last one, so, it couldn't be considered an occupation, could it? He was tempted to tell Alan he had no occupation at all. Tell him he lived off of people's laughs and shouts; but that would result in more questions about himself, and William wasn't here to talk about himself. "I do this and that," he said with a smile on his face and a jerk of his head from right to left.

The laugh he held back previously broke out, lighter than he'd expected, and abruptly stopped when his eyes caught a glimpse of blond and red. A rude passerby apparently. No, for William it looked more like a bright thread, like the one he had under his arms right now. A chance at an interesting evening. A girl with blood on her face, walking alone in the middle of the night, was bound to give him something to ease his crowded mind. He found himself before a crossroad. It was only for a moment that he considered turning around and offering the girl his fine bottle of wine instead of drinking it with Alan. But he thought better of it. He liked his little hero of justice in the guise of a policeman. He still had enough juice to squeeze out of him before he became another dull and familiar personality.

So he discarded the thought, and gave an apologetic look to his companion, seemingly for the rudeness of the stranger. Fate though seemed to favor him tonight. The girl's voice made him stop in his tracks, his smile widening as he turned to face the girl, dragging Alan along. Now fully in his view, he finally got a chance to take in the whole of her. Her ponytail, the white under he dark coat, the smeared blood on her cheerful face. A fairytail princess dressed as the evil witch. He gave a theatrical bow as a response to her greeting and silently chuckled at her comment on them as a pair. Instead of answering to it though, he looked at Alan, letting him react to it first.