Chapter 76: Interpreting Souls
The days passed, each team member receiving their own tattoo.
Eufemia’s crest was a stunning bouquet of flowers. Alstroemeria, peonies, lilies, amaryllis, dahlias, carnations—it was a beautiful cornucopia blooming from the skin of her back. Mixed in were charming wildflowers—clovers, violets, milkweeds, chicory, and buttercups. The flowers were resplendent and colorful, so realistic and vibrant as if they had been perfectly plucked at the peak of their beauty and vitality, or as if they had never been plucked at all, as living in two dimensions as they would be in three. A single resplendent red rose stood out from the rest; it was at the center of the bouquet, framed lovingly by the rest of the flowers, the main character to its companions.
Eufemia knew that the ruby rose was just the mask to draw the eye. Behind it was a soft pink wild rose, more rustic and natural in its beauty. Eufemia wondered which flower was the real her, but perhaps all of the flowers were the real her. The facets of her personality, her life’s act, were in some ways more obvious yet more secretive than what others presented publicly as themselves, but they were all herself.
The tree had no special meaning to John (not one that he was aware of, or one he did not say) yet it was the image his soul adopted. Wisteria said she didn’t choose the image, she just brought out what was offered up to her, like a sculptor that freed the voice of marble trapped within.
Aliyah’s crest was an intricate golden armillary sphere. Concentric rings orbited a core of resplendent transcendent light, shimmering with silver, gold, blue, and white. The rings and pathways formed an interlocking puzzle, the core streaming god rays through the gaps of the ornate clockwork.
It was finally Nara’s turn. She did the same as her companions, settling into the bed-seat for Wisteria to work on her back. Wisteria’s eye glimmered briefly when she noticed the scar on her chest before she laid down.
The old woman debated for a bit, curiosity and a bit of worldly wisdom winning the battle over propriety.
“When did you get that scar dear? You haven’t been here for very long. Not long enough for something like that.”
“Oh that? I had wondered it bit too, but it’s been here from the beginning.”
“Surely you have some idea,” Wisteria prodded, sticking the first few needles into her back.
“Well, I was thinking its maybe representative of how my soul is mixed up with the astral. Even as I’m down here in reality, a part of it is always up there, in the astral. That slice is that part. I’d say that was sufficiently traumatic to cause a scar. I never had a corresponding physical wound though…hence why it’s symbolic, to me.”
Wisteria raised an eyebrow, not understanding most of what Nara blabbered, but the rest of her team had. Nara’s explanation had not been for her, but for the others.
“Is that really the right way to interpret soul stuff?” John wondered aloud. Since healing magic was related to the soul, he had a better grasp of ‘soul stuff’ than the rest of the team.
“Is there a right way to interpret soul stuff?”
“I’m definitely not the one to ask,” John said with a soft grin. “I’m an oak tree and I don’t even know why.”
A table neatly arranged with shimmering bottles of ink and needles appeared. With great contemplation, Wisteria began to dip needles in ink and poke them into Nara’s skin. Wisteria could tell Nara was nervous.
“Loosen up dear, I promise I’ll make it look nice.”
“I thought you couldn’t change how it looked.”
Wisteria cackled, “Does it make you feel better if I lie and say I can?”
Nara couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She wasn’t nervous about the appearance of the tattoo, but the tattoo itself. It just wasn’t a stigma this world had, so Wisteria wrongly interpreted her nervousness.
Nara still wondered how she was going to possibly explain this to her family. Magic was one thing, but a tattoo was another. I’m never going to be able to go swimming in public without some pointed stares.
But it was too late now; Wisteria had started her work.
It’s said that sculptors bring out the soul of stone, carving away the excess to reveal the form within. Wisteria’s atmosphere was similar; a contemplation of the natural, bringing forth what was already inside. Sometimes, she worked quickly, her hands a gold-ranked flurry of needles added to Nara’s already quilled back. Other times, she was patient, carefully placing a needle here and there, before pausing to gaze further within. Nara wondered just what the gold ranker herself could see. Perhaps, by virtue of her profession, beyond what even the diamond rankers had perceived.
Chrome would laugh at her. What can you presume to know about diamond rankers?
The pinprick of needles was like the white noise to her sense of touch. Her mind wandered, and Nara flexed her perception for the first time in a long time, picking out dust in the afternoon sun, the grains in white stone, the veins in the velvety flower petals. After spending so long in the astral, Nara loved the physical. Picking away at her lute in the midst of trees, breathing in the scent of earth and pollen.
She had tried before to recreate reality while she was trapped in the astral. Tried to find peace and comfort in any way possible. She created fantastical cities teeming with people, living their daily lives. Buskers played their music, friends laughed in groups, pets trotted happily after their masters. No matter how complex the astral could simulate life, it was all fake. Their patterns could never repeat, but it was all soulless.
She was the False God of a False World. There was no surprise that it had driven her mad. Chrome had dispelled that madness. Nara would be forever grateful to him, no matter what his agenda was.
Time stretched on. Shadows lengthened, and sunlight turned the sea to liquid gold. Wisteria’s fingers continued their inexplicable dance, dancing along her back like the gentle touch of hummingbirds to nectar.
She finished. By this time, Nara knew the drill, but Wisteria repeated her instructions, taking individual care with each of her patrons.
One by one, the needles fell from Nara’s back to the floor. Intermittent at first, then growing with speed, a torrent of silver rain.
“Just a moment dear. Step here please, keep your back towards the wall.”
Nara stepped out of the circle of needles to the spot indicated. Wisteria fetched a piece paper, holding it up to Nara’s back for a moment, before handing it to her.
What she saw wasn’t exactly what she expected, although the scene was familiar. Her prediction with John was not entirely wrong.
She saw it, letting out a gasp. Not from surprise; It felt right. No matter what Wisteria said, she was an artist. She may claim to ‘just bring out the beauty within’, but it was still borne of the skill of her hands.
“It’s beautiful, thank you Wisteria.”
“If I claimed it was all my handiwork, it would be a lie, dear. But you know that already, don’t you?”
“Well? Don’t leave us in suspense? Where’s the payoff?” asked Eufemia, breaking the quiet.
“You don’t have to show them if you don’t want to,” Wisteria said, keeping to her professional ethics.
“Even now?”
I’d be a little cruel not to show her teammates after they all showed her theirs. The idea tugged a grin at her lips, but she didn’t seriously entertain it.
“Having a bit of mystery is attractive. I’m all for it,” Wisteria winked.
“Hm. That’s a good point.”
“As if you need any more mystery,” Eufemia pointed out angrily.
Nara rolled her eyes and turned around.
Down the center of her back was a gently twisting path of golden starlight, stretching off into infinity. The cosmos swirled above, nebulas bursting with color, galaxies in motion, the life and death of stars. The divided the cosmos and a perfectly still unending lake of water. Within the water, trees with blossoms of silver, white and pale pink were reflected although there were no trees to reflect. The soft light of dawn and a light blue sky lay within the water, although there was no blue sky to reflect.
The scene was familiar to the group; They all remembered the pavilion by the lake. They felt as though the tattoo was upside down, that they were peering through the lake into the cosmos, rather than the reverse.
“It’s a little trippy,” John finally said, “Is that right way up?”
“There is no up or down in space, John,” Nara said.
John shrugged, accepting that explanation.
“It’s a nice one,” Wisteria said, “A great mood maker, if that’s your passion.”
Nara was starting to feel that Wisteria may be a bit spicier than she let on. She was wondering if all her words had been intentionally…suggestive. She was started to suspect she was.
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“Wait, do you rich people get crests to score points with the ladies? Or the gentlemen?”
“Absolutely,” said Encio.
“Absolutely not,” said Sen, just a beat behind.
*****
The group spent the last few hours of sunlight on Sezan’s beach. The swimwear worn in Esmera-Mar resembled sarongs and wraps, enchanted (or magicked, whatever they called it) to be waterproof. Sezan had plenty of guest clothing available for the group to pick from. Lawrence sat on the sand, still reading. They couldn’t convince him to join their game, so they left him alone. He’d enjoy the beach however he damn well pleased, and try to ignore the fact he was staying on the estate of a diamond ranker. When he read those books and did his duty for his goddess, he did just about forget.
“I sort of feel like we’re some sort of super-colorful yakuza gang.”
They finally got to see Sen’s tattoo, which he had never tried to hide in the first place. He just didn’t have Encio’s willingness to strip at a casual mention.
Sen’s tattoo was a mountain of reds, browns, silver, and golds painted in a flowing inkbrush style. A brilliant maple forest populated the base of the mountain, where a stream of silver and white drifted with bright touches of fallen leaves.
John was wandering into the water, dunking his head with half-jubilant curiosity half-horror as he repeatedly confirmed that he didn’t need to breathe at all anymore.
“I didn’t really believe it, even after the trial, but not breathing under water is really something else.”
“It’s always the mundane stuff with you,” Eufemia groaned. “Can’t you be more excited about, I don’t know, summoning a bear? Manifesting weapons out of thin air? Speaking every gods-damned language that ever existed and every will exist?”
John shrugged with a carefree smile. “At least my knees haven’t buggered me since I ranked up.”
“For fucks sake John. Your knees?”
After the trial, this was a much needed vacation. Besides touring Esmera-Mar, the team had spent much needed time in dedicated meditation. Meditation was needed to rank up abilities, and a few had advanced further than Nara thought.
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Overview
Name: Nara Edea
Race: Outworlder
Rank: Iron
Age: 24
Attributes
[Speed] (Dimension): Iron 0
[Power] (Harmonic): Iron 0
[Recovery] (Balance): Iron 0
[Spirit] (Mystic): Iron 0
Racial Abilities
Party Guide
Traveler’s Bounty
Tribulation of Self
Astral Traveler
Astral Domain
Free Spirit
Titles
Spirit Warrior
Unbounded
Astral Shaper
Godless Prophet
Unyielding
Essence Abilities
[Dimension] (5/5): Phase Shift (Iron 3, 52%), Blade of the Boundary (Iron 3, 64%), Dimension Node (Iron 4, 18%), Infinity Domain (Iron 3, 31%), Echo of Creation (Iron 0, 02%)
[Harmonic] (5/5): Astral Blessing (Iron 4, 56%), Entropy (Iron 3, 61%), Overture (Iron 3, 37%), Hand of Time (Iron 0, 00%), World’s End (Iron 1, 77%)
[Balance] (5/5): Refresh (Iron 4, 28%), Astral Return (Iron 3, 57%), Dream’s Wake (Iron 3, 64%), Avatar of the Boundary (Iron 0, 00%), Boon Conversion (Iron 2, 24%)
[Mystic] (5/5): Cosmic Path (Iron 4, 05%), Gaze of the Boundary (Iron 4, 55%), Moonlight Raiment (Iron 3, 27%), Umbral Wolf (Iron 3, 33%), Astral Judgement (Iron 0, 00%)
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All her essences had at least one ability at Iron 0, so her attributes would remain at Iron 0 until she resumed her monster hunting activities.
“I’ve always wanted rich friends,” Nara said, relaxing on the sand as Chrome fried up some meats on an Erras-style hot-plate grill, “How else can I bum off a family for access to their not-technically-but-essentially-private beach?”
Chrome rolled his eyes, “You have your own private beach. You don’t need a rich friend for that.”
“In my soul. It’s not really…practical,” she said aimlessly gesturing with her hands. But it was just about as private as a private beach could get.
“That’s right. Highly impractical. Who would want to go into your soul? I’ve been there and it’s a mess.”
“No need to say it like that,” Nara said, stealing a piece of meat off the grill. She gave him a pointed look. “Don’t you like, technically live there now anyway?”
He glared at her, “This is what I subject myself to for you. Living in a…patchwork shack of a soul.”
“H-Hot!” she said fanning her mouth as her tongue burned and slowly healed.
“That’s what you get for taking food when it isn’t ready,” Chrome snapped, warding off a second grabby hand when she was about to re-commit food theft. “The flavor has not yet reached its apex!”
Nara eyed Chrome. “You’ve really taken to cooking for a being that doesn’t need to eat.”
“You don’t need to eat either,” Chrome said, accusingly pointing his tongs in Nara’s face.
Nara looked him up and down, his elegant black clothing in contrast to the lively beach part, like a crow within a flock of parrots. Except the crow had a glowing golden mohawk.
“How would you feel about wearing a ‘Kiss the Cook’ pink apron?”
“Never,” Chrome seethed, “Would I be caught wearing something as unfashionable as what you’ve just had the audacity to suggest.”
“You say that but, I think you secretly enjoy these things.”
Nara looked around the beach.
“Huh. Where’s Aliyah?”
“She’s with that old bat,” Chrome said, his attention back to his skewers.
“Why? Does she need something else from her?”
“If you call your base instincts a need, then yes, she needs something from Wisteria.”
“Oh.”
Which more or less confirmed Nara’s suspicions on whether Wisteria had been intentionally suggestive.
*****
Encio and Nara stopped outside of a small tailor shop, tucked away between other specialty clothing stores in Esmera-Mar’s clothing district. The mannequins displayed in their tall, clear glass windows—a rarity for a city of colored glass—marked the origins of Encio’s style, the sort of effortlessly elegant style he wore.
“I’m starting to feel I’m like, too underdressed as a person for this. I talk big but I’m the type of person that struggled to wear anything beyond T-shirts and sweatpants outside of going to work. I always feel like anything fancier doesn’t suit me.”
“Nervous? Over clothes?” Encio said incredulously like he couldn’t even fathom the thought. “I assure you my friend with create a new you.”
“I’ve already recreated a new me, thank you very much. Born again outworlder. Don’t need to add the adjective twice.”
“We’re at the door,” he said, gesturing to the shop, “You can’t back out now.” He said with a little more force and a strong look.
“I’ve really never spent anything beyond like, 150 dollars on a single article of clothing. And it was a nice dress.”
“I don’t know what a dollar is, Nara, and it doesn’t matter. Take a page from Eufemia’s playbook and live a little. The robes your friend Chelsea picked out for you are nice, but you can stand to wear a different style.”
“I live,” Nara said defensively. “I have my lute and uh, I fund Chrome’s food obsession. Also my teas. I like my teas. And those clothes from Aviensa. I like those.”
“You know you didn’t buy your lute.”
She made a face at him.
“Nara,” he said disapprovingly, “I’m not going to force you into the shop, so you have to walk in there yourself.”
She scrunched up her face, “All right. I’m warning you; I have a terrible sense of style. Abysmal. Atrocious. A pile of steaming trash cultivated from twenty or more years of middle-class upbringing, band student awkwardness, and the field of engineering where looking like a sack of potatoes demonstrates a more acute understanding of science for the upper-level executives, whose own best fashion sense is a suit.”
Encio contemplated a retort, but didn’t even know where to begin. He gave up.
“My friend and I will take care of you. Just offer your input, and we’ll work around it.”
“Don’t you mean work with it?”
“If your opinion is wrong, we’re ignoring it.”
Nara pushed open the door to the shop expecting the jingle of a bell, but there was none. The shop had comfortable relaxed lighting. Intelligent light placement highlighted the styles on display, ranging from casual wear to formal gowns. The style was the sort of style Nara once fantasized about wearing if she ever became supermodel gorgeous enough to pull it off—it was sort of fashion where the details were small but intricate, the effort often with the cut and shape of the piece to create a flawless and effortless aesthetic, although the construction was the opposite. There was whimsy here and there on the pieces on display, like soft drapes of interesting colors, cut outs, or specific embroidery that likely represented the personal preferences of the client.
“Enciodes, my dear emerald, it has been too long. I almost thought you abandoned me for Domeni and his infuriatingly handsome looks.”
“I could never, Pietro,” Encio said with a grin, “Domeni has the looks, but I know your strength lies in your craft.”
“Now, my friend, are you saying I don’t have the looks?” The celestine called Pietro batted his eyelashes and pursed his lips.
“If you had the looks, why would you need me?”
Pietro stalked around Encio, his face pulled into a pursed frown.
“My, Encio, you hurt my dear, ruby heart with the undeniable truth,” he said after a sigh, as if his evaluation only confirmed his conclusion. “My friend, is this my new client you mentioned?”
“Yes, she’s my new teammate, take care of her, would you?”
“Have I ever disappointed you, Encio?”
“No. That’s why I come back,” he teased.
Pietro was a celestine, sharing the same swarthy skin the locals like Encio had. His hair was a glimmering moonlit silver, sharing the same shade as his eyes. Celestines were abnormally beautiful, at least to human sensibilities, but it seemed even they thought Encio was the height of perfection.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a celestine parent, do you?” Nara joked.
“Actually, my father is a celestine.”
“Oh?”
Nara didn’t expect to hit the answer on the nose. Certainly, Sezan’s genes helped (whether or not ranking up affected genes itself, Nara frequently questioned, and nobody had an answer. He couldn’t have been that good looking at iron rank, yet someone it was passed to Encio), but Encio’s human handsomeness mixed with celestine ethereality gave him that indescribable charm.
Nara was a little surprised to hear that the races could intermix, since racial abilities defined so much of an essence user.
“How does that even work…” she muttered, but that was a question to explore later.
She was ushered behind a covered partition by Pietro where a recording crystal specially made to take measurements recorded hers for Pietro’s use. It look them even beneath her clothing, to her surprise.
“She has a soul crest too, Pietro.”
“She does? Can I see it?” He said, asking Nara directly.
“Yeah, I don’t mind.”
Nara was wearing a simple and loose shirt and pants combo from Aviensa, so she lifted the back of her shirt for Pietro to see.
“My, my, my, is this Wisteria’s work? I would never mistake her artistry. You have a beautiful crest.”
“You know Wisteria?”
“Not personally, but I’ve had the pleasure to see some of her work. Are you comfortable with wearing clothes that display your crest?”
“Not yet, I think. Maybe in the future.”
“I’ll start you off with clothing that covers the back. No rush,” he said gently, his voice dropping a bit of it’s playfulness.
Despite his initial frivolity, he was serious as he consulted Nara for her opinions on what he would design for her. She wanted casual clothing first, and the full suite of standard enchantments such as self-cleaning, self-repairing, and environment-maintaining properties.
He asked her a variety of questions, using simpler questions such as which piece she liked more between two examples, and why. Nara didn’t know a lot about fashion, so this let him adapt to her. What colors she liked, how tight or loose a piece could be, how much detail was too much, or whether she liked patterns or not.
“I, of course, reserve my professional judgement. However, I promise you satisfaction. You may be surprised with the results. In fact, I intend to surprise you.”
“I’m always willing to try new things,” Nara said. She glanced at the two of them. Two flamboyant peas in a pod. “I’m curious, how do you know each other?”
Encio narrowed his eyes. “You think I know him through my grandfather. Nara, you do realize I have friends beyond my grandfather’s connections?”
“Uh…my bad. I kind of assumed you didn’t.”
“My, the honorable Sezan Aciano? I’m afraid I’m not high enough rank to make his clothes for him. It would be such an honor,” Pietro wistfully sighed, deftly folding away the samples he had taken out for Nara to comment on.
“You don’t need him when you have me,” Encio declared.
“My, Enciodes, if you say it that way I’ll misunderstand.”
Encio grinned.
“I’ll make it to diamond rank, so all you have to do is make it there too.”
“What shameless, baseless, confidence! Oh, it makes me tremble in anticipation.”
“Baseless...?” Encio muttered, but his grin didn’t fall.
“In two weeks, starlight, your clothes will be ready. Come by then to pick them up.”
“Starlight?”
“He thinks every one of his customers needs a moniker.”
“I sort of get mine, but why emerald for Encio? Shouldn’t it be sword or wind or something?”
“Have you looked at this face of his? There is no way to tear your gaze away from those emerald gems of his.”
Encio fluttered his eyelashes, his eyes sparkling like gems catching light like they were flirting with the sun.
“You’d even flirt with the sun? That’s a one-sided love, Encio.”
“From which side?”
Nara was stunned into silence by his audacity. She didn’t know what was the right answer.