Music is my anti-drug

"I like it... I don't know why," Max said. What she couldn't quite word was how it made her feel safe and comfortable, as some sort of reassurance that he would not turn her away. She stared dully upward in her search for words, as if the clouds would help her out. "It makes me feel strangely... at ease. Like when sometimes you hear the wind and it rustles the grass but not all at once, but in short, sporadic times..."

Max drew closer and stared up at her companion once she stopped her rambling. That slight hint of unease in his voice she could pick up, and doubt swilled around in her head once more. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Should I have?" Max asked. She didn't want to complain, nor did she think there was any reason to, but then again she could be wrong as she was a lot. Was there some sort of hidden value to complaint that she didn't realize existed? Probably. "I don't know why I should, but if you want me to..."

Silently, Max turned to the clouds once more, asking them in her head what she should complain about. When they failed to respond on account of being clouds, her eyes drooped just a little in disappointment.

"I'm n-not used t-to p-peop-ple t-think-king it's a g-good t-thing. It's alw-ways w-wrong."

If she were any more expressive than she was, Max would've exclaimed in mild joy from meeting a kindred spirit. As she was, it came out in a slightly more enthusiastic voice than her usual wispy and ethereal tone.

"We're the same," she said, tentatively holding Iliril's hand and staring at it as if looking for something. "I think. Others say we're wrong... I don't think you're disliked but many don't like me. Yours is because of the way you talk... instead of the way you see the world."

Max pressed Iliril's hand into her own and closed her eyes, pulling it to her chest. When she opened her eyes, she stood at an abyss - darkness as far as the eye could see. There were miniscule lights in the distance, and the bright glow of Iliril's soul, radiant but darkened by something she didn't recognize.

But to her dismay, even if they were similar - though she didn't know if Iliril had the same degree of hardship, or less, or more, or anything other than her guesses - she still couldn't see her soul against his. There was simply a void blotting out bits of his hand, pressed as it was into nothing.

"Still..." she said wistfully, letting go and closing her eyes again.

"I see differently... I can see what people feel and what their souls are like, and... some other things."

Max stretched out her hand to the sky and stared up at her palm, though she saw nothing. No clouds, no sky, no light, nor any outline of her hand. She could not see, even as she blinked and blinked. There were no emotions for her to detect, nor any soul for her to see. "I can see you. But I can't see myself. When I try, it's like it's a blank space..."

It was seeing into someone's emotions that she'd stopped trying to do without permission. People didn't like someone seeing that, and it had been a source of much grief in her life. The truth was often something hidden into corners where it was never to be let out.

"I don't look at what people feel anymore after..." she said, trailing off and shaking her head. It was as if some old injuries had suddenly stung again.

She closed her eyes to reset her vision, and once again looked at Iliril. The observant would have noticed a very slight tilting of her brows and lips, in hesitant fear. "Are - will you hate me as well because I can see what I shouldn't?"

Thankfully, there wasn't any rejection. Max had so prepared herself for the inevitability of dislike that approval had actually shocked her, and all she could do was stammer out a soft whisper of thanks.

Even so, she shook her head and refused to look at him that way. Part of it was out of the same fear that behind his words were hidden malice deep down, but a small part of it was a baseless sense of trust. He did make her feel comfortable about herself, if only for a bit.

The matter of showing her gratitude was a different thing entirely. She didn't know how to do it, so she let it be and chose to neatly straighten out her dress and sit on her knees upon the blank space.

"I don't think we were introduced... I'm Max, I think."

"Il - lir - ril of the Chant. Il - lir - ril. Il. Lir. Ril." Max carefully and cautiously spoke every part of Iliril's name, every syllable rolling off her tongue softly and gently as though it would let her sort of taste his identity and what he was. Names often told both a lot about a person, and not enough. "Iliril. Il-lir-ril."

Max watched from her perch on the ground, unsure if she was meant to even be sitting there. Since no complaint had come yet, there probably was no harm in doing so. "Do you want to sit? Or should I be standing up?"

Why was he red though? That was something she'd seen described in books, and something she'd seen happen in what few films she'd watched. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You're a... little differently colored. Like red. Are you sick? You're... you're not sick, are you?"