Foolish felt his head swim as he turned to look around the bar. His eyes locked on a man on the other side of the room. He knew this man. He needed to speak to this man. The man sipped from his glass, the same one Foolish no longer had in his hand though he swore he had it minutes earlier. He put it down somewhere, on one of the many tables separating him from the man on the other side of the room, who was dressed in a long red dress. Why was everyone wearing red? He knew he needed to lie down, but he also knew that he couldn't. He did another sweep of the room, and then the man was gone. Foolish inhaled sharply as he noticed who was standing in the man's place. He walked through the tables, feet barely touching the floor, until he reached Eret. His hand was resting against the quillion of his sword, and his light blue eyes shone with recognition. There was a glass in his hand. Foolish blinked and it was gone.

He stumbled into the field Eret stood in, dew clinging to the polyester blend of his red suit. Why was he wearing red? He held himself back from falling into Eret's arms. It was a battle. They were certainly in a battle, he never wore his uniform in peace. His rifle was slung across his back. The bayonet glinted in the early morning sun, a harsh reminder of where they were. Where they'd been. What still lay ahead of them, for god knows how long. Eret took a step towards him and picked up his hands in the way one might if they were going to ballroom dance. They were not in a ballroom, they never had been, and Foolish almost couldn't think of ever having seen one. Still, his hands knew where to end up and Eret pulled him in a circuitous motion into another part of the field. It was almost like he was trying to avoid something. When Eret started going through the motions of a simple box step Foolish knew exactly where to put his feet, and even found himself initiating complicated maneuvers.

"You're good at this," Eret murmured, his first words the entire time. Foolish smiled and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be pulled along by the motions. "So," Eret said, and Foolish opened his eyes to a dim bar. He missed the chill in the air from the field, and the wide open sky. The lights hanging from the ceiling glowed red, giving the whole place an eerie atmosphere. Eret was still there, though, looking very out of place. Military men frequented the local bars, yes, but not here. Not like this. Something about it was wrong. Maybe it was his pristine uniform, not stained with blood from a long day of hard-won battles. Freshly pressed, like it had never truly seen combat. An antique, or a reproduction, preserved for future generations to admire but to never again realize its purpose. "Foolish?" Eret said, pulling Foolish out of his thoughts. Eret's eyes started to look red in the lighting, everything reflecting off of the white color in his iris. "Yes, I'm here," he said quietly.

"I was just saying, tonight's the night, right?" Eret asked, eyes pleading. He wanted answers desperately. God knows what he would be so worried about. "Tonight's the night we take it down?" Foolish thought for a second. He took a breath and pulled Eret close in a dance step. There were a few other couples doing the same steps they were doing, but they weren't doing it the same way. The emotions were different. There was a sense of finality to the way he and Eret were dancing. He didn't even know how something like that could feel final. He simply knew it was. "Tonight is the night we get out," he said with the gentle smile of a friend, or a mentor. They were separate people now. They would go about their separate lives and while they might cross the other's mind once in a while, they weren't ever going to get back what they had. "What do you mean by that?" Eret started to ask, but Foolish had once again closed his eyes to try and get the moment back.

"Where did that even come from?" A slightly nasally voice said, and Foolish opened his eyes to the field. In front of him was a well-dressed man with distinctly red eyes. Behind the man was a large old tree, long dead, covered with vines. Wildflowers grew at the base of the trunk, taking solace in the shade of the branches. It was midday now and the sun beat down with impossible heat. "Foolish," the man said with a chuckle. "I think we both wish you were." "Old military nickname," Foolish said, taking a cursory glance around to try and find where Eret had gone and why he had been replaced by this horribly modern man with the dyed hair and slightly inaccurate 1970s styled tuxedo. "You're a veteran? Well, thank you for your service," the man said with the most smug look Foolish had possibly ever seen. Was he one of his superiors? No, not likely. They were assholes but they would never dress so gaudy.

Foolish closed his eyes in an attempt to find some calm within himself, something to help him ignore everything happening around him. Everything? What was everything? Was it the heat of the day? Everything won, because all he could find was the background hum of the electricity in the lights overhead. The man laughed, a grating, barking sound. He could hear the grass rustling as he stepped closer, and Foolish took a step back as his facial expression became closer to a grimace. His footsteps tapped on the wood floor. He tripped on something, a root? He fell back and hit his head on something, which caused him to open his eyes as pain shot through him. He heard the sound of something shattering, and looked over to find the glass he was holding broken across the planks, a few shards poking out of his palm. Foolish tried to push himself up, but was met with the blade of an axe-like sword at his throat. He started feeling panic he hadn't felt in many years.

Every survival instinct had left him, he was no longer able to find the calm that was necessary to stay alive. The man holding the sword had a blank look on his face, but behind him stood the man in the tuxedo with the smug expression. The thought crossed Foolish's mind that it was that goddamn cult leader, and suddenly everything snapped back into place. Too late, as the blade of the sword was brought down into his abdomen, and the searing pain of a murder ran through every one of his nerves.

i call this one "**** crystal specifically"

SHUT UP AND DIE