25
Pacing back and forth in a three-foot patch of grass that was the wrong color, Quark paused, noticing a sudden change to the world—A different offset building, a new tree that grew in the wrong direction, the sudden sound of flowing water, to suddenly deafen again.
"Something is wrong..." Quark noted, this time not to himself. "This isn't how it was before.”
There were no fields, no life to the trees, no method to the madness. Everything was off-kilter, off-putting, off in ways Quark could stare for hours and hours at a time—if time still mattered—and never be able to pinpoint the source of the obscurity.
Trees grew lopsided and tangled without logic to the gravity, flowers smelled of molded bread and ghosts had been scrubbed clean of organic features, now reflecting their true selves; nothing but spectators of the mind.
They wandered aimlessly, searching for meaning where there was none, nothing to guide them to their spots. This dream had no script.
"I don't even know what department this is anymore," Quark confounded. "Are we in Wish Fulfillment? Is this even Leo's dream?" He was trying to find a train of thought to ride out, but there were no rails to keep it on track. "Fuck, where do we even go from here? How do we go anywhere now?"
Pulse's leg bounced without a tempo. Quark was right, where would they go from here?
One thing was certain, Quark was exhausted.
So was Pulse, but they had their anxiety to fuel their flames.
A cigarette smoldered in their hand. It was the last one, and it had gone to waste.
They didn't even take a single inhale. Instead, they watched it smoke and shrink to the point it reached the butt.
They sat there quietly while Quark paced back and forth, watching how the smoke danced in the air.
The rest of the world was a migraine to look at, and the smoke was forming in the shape of rings, branches, ballerinas, familiar faces, and formless souls.
Flicking their cigarette away, Pulse waved Quark down. After motioning for him. "Sit for a bit, okay?"
Quark obeyed, plopping hip to hip. If he plucked at the loose string of his shirt anymore, it would fall apart. "I don't know where to go from here, Pulse..."
"We will find her again," Pulse finished his thought for him. They spoke low, monotone. The truth was, they were just as worried. Pulse felt their energy from their chest lurching up their throat. As arduous as it was, Pulse could act collected. Being a musician also meant being a part-time actor.
"Let's just sit for a moment. Collect our thoughts. Figure out what the new rules are."
“Would there be any rules, now that we are like this?”
'Like this... What does that mean anymore?'
"There must be," Pulse concluded. "We are still part of this dream world. There must be some logic we can cling to."
With a subtle nod, Quark leaned his head on Pulse's arm. The poor thing was exhausted. Despite the ample night's rest, he was still sore. "I hate this pain... I hate how much pain I'm feeling right now."
“Where does it hurt?”
"Right now? My neck and shoulders."
There was no objection when Pulse began to massage him.
With their hands hot with perturbed energy, it was beneficial with soothing Quark's muscles.
Closing his eyes, Quark lost himself in their touch.
Quiet, relaxing—Pulse found that it eased themselves, too.
In all this, at least Quark made sense. Quark was the same.
He was real. Unfeigned by the vexing environment and solid under their touch.
"We need ideas," Quark half moaned. A cough cleared his voice from the bit of embarrassment. "If we can at least have some idea where to start, I think we can make a lot of headway there."
"That's the hard part."
Ghosts of the dream meandered. The dribble of nonsense they spoke was as much the same, but their appearance was nothing comprehensible. They were more so mad scribbles in a desperate attempt to illustrate something human. Maybe they weren't human. Would all carbon creatures look the same as Leo?
"I hope she's okay," Pulse commented, eyes downcast and dim. "Fucking Gamal... Dragging us away like that when Leo needed us the most."
"I agree," said Quark, Pulse had to massage Quark's shoulders deeper when they saw his fingers clenching his thighs. “We have to find her. Soon. I hope she understands.”
"Of course she will. I doubt Leo's the type to hold that against us."
While Quarks' eyes remained closed, drifting into a half-sleep, Pulse scanned the area. The sidewalks went from slate to gold—no, pyrite. Between the sidewalk and the road was a trickling, murky stream. It smelled stale and repugnant with algae.
'There must be some method to the madness, some way to make this world sensible.'
Buildings crumbled to reveal trees. These lacked the familiar brown bark in Leo's mind, looking more like the grass from the field, with encumbering violet-blue petals, withering and dying just like the rest of the city.
'Quark could figure it out.'
But Quark needed to rest. He was going forward and then jolting back up to keep from falling off the seat, now nothing but a mound of trash.
So Pulse pulled his head into their chest, stroking his hair as they pondered.
'Quark is so much smarter than me. He could figure this out. Maybe with the right book–the right idea to pursue, he could lead us in the right direction.' Pulse had more faith in him than he believed that the universe was infinite.
However, Pulse was phenomenal at one thing in particular. You don't become the lead of the Cosmic Choir without an ear for fine-tuning.
So they closed their eyes and listened. There were too many ghosts crooning to make it easy.
They focused like they would while the rest of the stars in the choir did their rehearsals, listening for the one thing out of tune, a star who was not confident enough to sing with their full potential so they would whisper their verses.
Pulse listened for the oddity that would lead them in the right direction.
Somewhere in the crowd, in the city, were the comprehensible words of two male voices.
“We are in Sector Dos of Wish-fulfillment. Sector Vex was clear.”
The crackle of a voice box clicked. 'Gamal.' “Continue. As soon as you lay eyes on them, report it immediately.”
"Affirmative." The first man confirmed. "She is off on a warpath, isn't she?"
"You'd be too if you'd lost the universe's most prolific singer," A second man said. His tone was insipid and routine. "They shouldn't be hard to find, though. The star's seven foot tall."
“And the other one?”
"Quark? He's going to be right there with them. You think that little guy would wander off without his celebrity crush?"
"I'm saying he'll be tricky to catch. Pulse is strong as fuck, but I believe the dwarf star is a slippery guy. I bet my ass he'd be harder to catch."
"How much are you betting, then?"
“No, I'm not making another bet with you. Ever. I still owe you like a hundred of my lunch breaks. That's enough debt for me.”
'Fuck, they're honing in.' And the men were right. Pulse wasn't the type who could easily blend into crowds. Like a rose in a thorn bush.
They scooped up Quark gently into their arms, causing him to stir. “What's going on?” he mumbled.
“Just going somewhere quiet for a bit,” Pulse comforted. “We can rest better then.”
“Leo...”
"We will find her. But we can't think straight while exhausted. C'mon, hon..."
'Hon.' Pulse flinched at their choice of words. Quark nuzzled into their chest, breathing in their scent. Fitting like the final piece of the puzzle.
Pulse had to find shadowed and sketchy pathways to stay out of sight. Hazards like rubble, glass, fire, and rancid oils made concealment more difficult.
If they made a singular miss-step, it was over.
At every turn, it seemed like there were more of those men.
The stars' search party, or Gamal's bloodhounds, Pulse came to call them.
He's caught glimpses of them—tall, ungainly figures with large pointed ears and bright, sun-yellow eyes.
Their noses were long, dressing in plain gray security jumpsuits, with bright neon green vests.
All of them donned heavy gold earrings like tags.
It was hard to breathe around them. Pulse feared even the sound of a normal breath would tip them off.
'I Need to find a building. I Need somewhere to sit and hide until those bloodhounds give up.'
The two guards closest had moved away. There was no guarantee that there weren't more close by that Pulse hadn't noticed yet, so their next move was a gamble.
“Where would you like to rest, Quark?”
The dwarf stirred, murmuring something that wasn't even words.
“Anywhere you want, babe. Your treat.”
Quark sighed, mustering just enough energy to whisper: "Libraries are nice and quiet, I think I'd like that."
"We're still in Wish fulfillment, maybe we are allowed a wish here, too.'
Pulse hugged Quark tightly and turned a corner in an alley.
There was a door. Obsidian, shadowed to anyone without a keen eye. It blended in with the rest of the wall if someone were just passing by. No one would see it unless they stood right in front.
Pulse squeezed through the narrow passage.
Inside was a tight fit. Like the door, the shelves in the singular room library were the same black stone.
Brown leather-bound books filled the tall walls of the space so that Pulse wouldn't be able to lie down without having to tuck their knees.
In an open book cove was a plush sofa. It was old and dusty, but sitting down on it, it was as premium as it'd be if it were brand new.
Pulse laid back, kicking their feet out, having Quark lay on them. The two were the only light sources inside the room; the only ones giving the place warmth. A little corner all to them in perfect, eerie silence.
Now that the danger of being found and sent back was gone, Pulse closed their eyes. They breathed into Quark's hair. He smelled sweet like flowers. Odd for a star. Perfect for Pulse.
As they drifted off, Pulse kept a sharp ear for whispers, words, and sounds of misplaced ambiance. Their mind opened, dreaming of music, of colors, for any wisdom and insight.