A Silver Pin and A Painted Sky
Feliks pulled a small pin out of his pocket and fiddled with it as he walked down the long and lengthy corridors of the Opera House. The evening was setting in on this day, sunlight creeping out of the windows and replaced with a pinkish glow that indicated sunset.
The blond man noticed the shift in time, “Beautiful skies tonight…” He murmured, still fiddling with the small pin. Roderich glanced a little closer at the pin. It was quite uncharacteristically dull. It’s plain silver was rough looking. It had no shine or any jewels.
It most definitely was not originally Feliks’ pin. Felik was flamboyant, enjoying material objects that were often only acquired by the rich and upper class. He was not dull nor simple, he was Feliks. If he were to wear a pin on his jacket, it would be adorned in jewels and gold.
Right?
Feliks’ voice cracked and snapped Roderich out of his deep thinking. “Earth to Roderich? Hello? I know I’m beautiful, sketches last longer though!” He said pridefully, ripping his gaze from the pin to Roderich’s violet eyes.
“What’s that pin?” Roderich asked bounty, checking down the halls to make sure they were going the right direction.
“Oh… It was my mother’s…” Feliks nodded, an unfamiliar and somber look pulling across Feliks’ face. Roderich had heard a few stories about Felik’s ill mother who had passed, but she was still much of a mystery to Roderich.
“You don’t say?” Roderich tilted his head, “It’s quite different.”
Feliks looked at Roderich gently and gave a tiny laugh, “Different it is… It was her hair pin. Sometimes I wear it to remind me she’s always with me.” The man turned a corner passing a group of blond men, one with spiky hair.
“She was a simple town woman. Quiet, intelligent, revered by her family and friends…” He trailed off, looking out to see the orange sun sink below the darkened outlines of the city’s church steeples and homes.
Roderich paused, stopping in his tracks. Feliks stopped too, “Skies like this remind me of her.” He said, “She was a painter. Just for enjoyment, though.”
His green eyes met Roderich’s violet ones. Roderich felt cold. The usually bubbly persona of Feliks faded to a more somber and serious tone. It was so odd seeing him this way. Roderich was the somber one. However, at this moment, they switched roles.
“Your mother paints the sky for you. She loves you so much that she sits at her easel in heaven and paints a masterpiece for your eyes.” Roderich looked at Feliks, their silhouettes blacked out against the bright and setting sun. “You are never alone, Feliks.”
The blond man gazed out the window. He felt teary inside, Roderich could tell by the small, yet sad smile spreading across his face. “You, my friend, should consider poetry.”
Roderich gave a small laugh, which was not a common sound. “No way in hell.”
Feliks smiled, the peaceful moment seeming to ease all of Feliks’ sadness. He clipped the pin back into his hair. The man looked out across the pink and gold sky. “Can’t say I didn't try.”
Roderich motioned his head towards a staircase, “Into the Lion’s Den we go?”
Feliks gave a huff, “Yeah. Crazy Mafia man who will probably hire us as hitmen. I don’t have the capacity to kill anyone, Roddy. Blood is gross… makes me dizzy…”
The other man playfully rolled his eyes, “Come on… We’ll be there a little early. You know… It’ll make us look dedicated.”
Feliks laughed, “Dedicated to what? The maf-”
Roderich snapped, “I don’t want to hear anymore Mafia talk from you till we get back to the room, Feliks.” He sighed.