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If Heaven Forbids (CA - Saber)

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Riley glanced at the house Amos faced with a puzzled look.

He then examined the house briefly, as if he himself were unsure of it being the correct one or not.

" Nope! His house should be a few houses down…" Riley pointed. " That one. I think. I've only been there two times so far… This'll time will make three!"

Riley marched on to the house anticipating it being the right one, but when he arrived to his dismay he couldn't find what he was looking for. His head tossed back in forth, before he paused and rubbed the back of his neck.

" Okay nevermind, that's not his house either. Umm… Maybe it's the next one over, or maybe we already passed it." With that, Riley couldn't help but look back at the houses they had already passed. Then his hesitation sharply fell, and he began forward again.

" No, it's gotta be one of the next few houses, I'm sure..." 

Riley carefully studied each house they passed, still not finding what he was looking for. Then, he abruptly stopped.

" This is it!" He beamed. 

The house looked to be one of the older ones on the street, the white brick it was built out of showing its age. The front door was just as worn out, with it's screen door not properly able to shut anymore. The yard was a unwurly wild mess with weeds scattered to and fro, and a basketball hoop that appeared to be rusted and collecting cobwebs on one side of the yard. Only the bushes near the front porch showed any signs of care and stuck out a bit from the untidiness that was seen all around it, the mailbox being the only other piece that seemed to beckon attention from the old and mundane looking house. 

Breaking away from the standard appearance of most of the others in the neighborhood, the mailbox had a small American flag delicately painted on one side of it, with a messy smudged version on the other side, that if one examined closely, could see the fingerprints of a child's hand in it.

The house appeared to be filled with these little notes of history dotted around here and there, but the stories behind the brick walls and land were it's secrets to keep.

Without a second glance, Riley began to stride happily to the front door. Although there were no vehicles in the driveway at present, the garage door was closed, seemingly suggesting of the possibility of someone still being home.

 

Amos paused only a minute longer to survey the house aforementioned, then followed Riley around the neighborhood until the correct house was appropriately discerned. He, of course, did notice the little human fingerprints on the mailbox, the wear and tear of the building, and all its fascinating details. Surely, there was a tone of music in his mind to accompany each one, but for convenience they shall not be named. He walked with Riley to the doorstep, and there waited, perhaps a little stiffly.

Amos' hands were still in his pockets. His head and neck were still arched forward, and his shoulders hunched. He waited with placid expression, blinking slowly. Then mentioned quietly, "It smells nice."

Riley was just about to knock on the door when he heard Amos's comment.

"Haha, it does!" He responded somewhat awkwardly. Then, he proceeded to knock on the door.

The TV that could be heard playing on the inside turned off. Then, footsteps leading up to the other side of the door. There was a pause before the door opened just a crack, Saber peering out at them.

" This Amos?" Saber asked looking at Riley.

" Yep!" He happily responded.

" Alright, come on in."

Saber opened the door up. Now fully visible, the cast and sling his right arm was in could be seen.

Riley eagerly opened the screen door and went inside. Saber then slowly turned his attention to Amos expentantly, his gaze holding a certain weariness to it.

Amos watched Riley proceed inside without a moment's want. Then he looked at Saber, nodded his head, and followed suit. He stepped into the house, away from the door so it could be closed, and continued to stand in silence.

Saber briefly surveyed the world outside before closing the door and quietly locking it.

Now inside, it was clear the small prints of history seen outside was just barely scratching the surface of what the whole house contained. The way the walls were worn out, small stains on the carpet, were just the start. The brown couch, now worn down from many years of use, had a sense of it's prior dignity, before it was worn and torn and scented with the slight smell of alcohol.

Next to the couch was a large case filled with knick knacks and pieces from history; Dolls, a model ship, small paintings, plaques, some seashells and some old books all occupied the space on the shelves.

The coffee table and the TV stand appeared to be the newest and most expensive thing in the room, made out of mahogany wood and hand carved with floral pattern. Besides a few VHSes that seemed out of place, the table held a small vase with flowers and a picture of a black haired woman holding a baby. Beyond these notable pieces in the room, the bookcase, fake plants, and side table left much less of an impression, although there was likely hints of the stories of the past to be found among them too.

With so much to look at, Riley easily got distracted.

Saber then turned his attention to Amos. 

" I don't know how much Riley told you, but I was recently was attacked by someone who is... likely seeking some kind of revenge on me. The long and short of it is if you don't want to risk getting beaten or killed, don't say the name Saber to anyone. Also, do me a favor and don't share my current location with anyone either. We clear?"

Amos took in each detail with casual regard while the music in his head brought every piece of history to life. The furniture new and old, the carpet stains, the pictures and plaques, the shells and nick-knacks, the wear of the years on every aspect of the home - each and every detail - could only be accompanied by the sage voice of a piano. It ranged from bright to mellow; from the child in the woman's arms, to the smell of alcohol on the couch; it told a story that others could not hear.

The music left a lasting impression, though Amos merely observed the room with a sweeping glance. Then he met Saber in the eye and nodded his head, agreeing.

" Alright, now that that's out of the way…" Saber started. " Your names Amos, right? You can call me Henry." 

" Henry!" Riley repeated. " That was it!"

 Previously his attention was on the VHSes on the coffee table, but now Riley was turned to Henry and Amos.

Riley continued. " I remember it didn't sound that cool, but I just couldn't remember exactly what it was."

Henry snickered. " Makes sense, it doesn't really fit me, but that's kinda the point."

Riley looked disappointed. " But why couldn't you go with something cooler? Like Bruce Lee? 

Henry rolled his eyes. " That's far too obvious. I have to use something discreet that has no connection to me or my interests. Besides, it's only temporary. I'm sure it won't be long till it'll be safe to call me Saber again."

" Oh okay. But still, I think you need a cooler name. I have some name ideas, like-"

Henry quickly interrupted his friends thought. " Riley, how about you go to the kitchen and get yourself something to drink? My mom bought some more Redbull for you."

" Really? Aww, your mom is the best!" 

With that, Riley headed to the kitchen bouncing like an excited bunny.

Henry then moved back to the couch and sat down, eyeing Amos. " Go ahead and make yourself at home. ..Oh, and ignore the smell on the couch, my mom is going to replace it soon."

Amos nodded his head once more as Riley's flittering music faded out of the room. Then he came to the couch and sat down, saying nothing. A sort of silence ensued, which Amos never heard.

Silence, just as words, can be a powerful communicator between people. What it communicated between Amos and Henry was uncertain, but in the short moment that was had, Henry wasn't content to remain there for long.

" Riley wasn't kidding when he said you were quiet..." Henry muttered loud enough to be heard. He then turned to face Amos directly. " Hey, so I'm sure Riley has told you plenty about me, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

 What is the moment
But a thought drifting
Into the past
When but a moment
More would seem
A sin
Far too good
To Last


Amos lifted his chin as the starling soprano faded out of his mind's ear - a voice he envisioned belonging to the woman in the photograph, - and the piano music trailed to silence behind her. Then, his back began to straighten, and he slowly turned his chin to look at "Henry" who sat by him on the couch.

"I don't have much to tell." Amos said solemnly. His face, as Riley knew, was usually plain. Even now he wore no expression at all. His long wavy hair framed his pale features, and his raven locks draped his wide shoulders. His pale blue-grey eyes were framed in a permanently affixed sadness, else the downturned shape of the outer corners of his eyes made him appear sad. Whatever the case, his overall manner was solemn, dignified, and enchanting, or else depressing.
~

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