Chapter 27: Escalation
A table of freezing steel saps my heat as I find myself strapped down with wristbands of black, globular sludge. The stony walls hold streaks of gore while only a single orange lamp offers any light in the windowless room. The ceiling mimics the caverns I’ve seen in my past with perfect detail.
A little girl walks into the room with a mouth just slightly too large while her irises are just a tad too small. She smiles with teeth glaring their white sheen like a series of mirrors. She says,
“Do you like it here?”
“I would rather be elsewhere. Do you know where we are little one?”
“We are inside.”
“Would you free me? We may play outside where the sun shines and the breeze cools us.”
“You are binded with chaos. There is no freedom in the path you walk.”
Her irises grow until they consume her entire eyeball. Her smile widens until her lips crack leaking gooey tentacles of blood. I shout, “So you wish to end me hellion?”
She laughs with her shrill tones echoing through the room. Her jaw gapes until she regurgitates a clean, stout man with grey skin and eyes of red and black with irises like a hungry wolf. His tousled hair of black holds his face complementing his devilish smile as he says,
“It is good to see you. Friend.”
“Deluge?”
“You only need to sit still for a moment. This shall only sting a little.”
He pulls a writhing maggot covered in brown, lumpy slime from the little girl's mouth. The legs of the creature squirm as the monster squeals a high pitched cry. Deluge starts slowly moving the creature towards me.
Before the abomination reaches me, I say, “What have I done? Why do you torment me?”
“It will only cause a few changes. Do you not trust me Jack?”
“Not when you motion such a disgusting creature onto me when I am restrained.”
“Then think of it as a trust building exercise.”
As the maggot approaches, dozens of legs grow from the creature that crawl in waving motions like a spider crawling. The center of the aberration splits revealing bunched pits like a honeycomb of flesh.
The maggot opens up right before the legs reach me when I scream, “Please don’t. For all that we have been through, please don’t do this to me.”
Deluge says, “I don’t want to die. Would you risk both our lives for your humanity?”
The maggot crawls ferociously in the air with carnal excitement. As blobs of viscous goop fall on me Deluge says, “Then throw your humanity away. Accept what you’ve become.”
He lets the maggot touch my stomach. The creature scrambles its legs under my skin as the hollow suckers latch onto my stomach while the head burrows itself under my sternum. Unspeakable horror that chokes my breath oppresses all else.
Deluge says, “Accept legion. Embrace eternity.”
I scramble awake surrounded by a group of people murmuring. I lean my head downwards. Before I compose myself, vomit builds in my throat, but the pressure of the crowd gives me enough strength to hold it down while I calm using heavy breaths.
These people might have seen the fight between me and Petra. They certainly want to know what occurred at the very least, but I shall allow Petra to weather this storm as I am ill equipped.
Cracking my neck by turning my jaw, I say between the cracks, “Offer me, room to breath.”
Someone shouts, “How did you beat her?”
Another student shouts, “This is incredible. Petra has never been defeated.”
“Did you see him? He was redder than a tomato, yet he still knocked her out!”
“Some say he’s the son of a giant and a human.”
I interrupt their ludicrous lies with an assertive shout, “Give me and Petra space. Back off.”
The students obey without a word of dissent like a pack of beaten slaves. As I walk over to Petra, The crowd’s gaze follows me during my jaunt. Their stares cause an irrational discomfort as if I were a deer being stalked by a wolf.
When I reach Petra, I lean over and pick her up noticing how light and supple her body is. Her relaxed face shows few lines and a well formed jaw and lips leading to a smooth, muscular neck.Her near permanent grimace or smirk hides her beauty, but as she is now, she looks in her late twenties rather than early forties.
Her body resists the compression of gravity with toned muscles. Her smooth gray hair glistens in the light with vitality like well groomed fur. I never noticed her physical appearance before now as her aura demands respect if not admiration.
I carry her outdoors reaching the same dilapidated well from earlier. Setting her down with slow, gentle movements, I make sure that her heads on a soft ground. I raise the water of the well throwing the water on her as she did to Joan.
She gasps with a deep breath. She looks around then asks, “What the hell! Who the fuck wants to die a...”
She looks at me and continues, “Ah. So you beat me. You know this is a punishment, not the way you revive the unconscious, right?”
“Surprisingly no.”
“Don’t do it again or else I stick your spine up your ass then wrench it out your mouth.”
“Y-yes.”
She stands up while saying, “How did you get out of my head lock? You were doomed.”
“I grabbed your hair jerking your head upwards. Afterwards I hit you on your jaw with pounding strikes.”
“Well, You hit like an angry mauler.”
“So I’ve been told. If not for my savage strength, then I would have been crushed by your technique.”
She lets her chin rest on her loose fist while saying, “Your ferocity was what won you that fight. In all my years, I have never seen someone who wants to win so badly. You nearly broke ribs when you jumped on me.”
“My physical attributes gained my victory. Not my own skill nor will.”
“I know many a warrior who never took advantage of their own reach or height or speed. They just let their strength go to waste. It takes a measure of skill to use a talent just like strength. Especially when your head is being ripped off by a seasoned warrior.”
“Then I shall accept this victory, but I will still need tutelage after this as I lack refinement in my own combat style.”
“If you sparred with me and Joan another time or two, I believe you’ll be able to smash us easily with your abnormal strength, toughness, and guts. I believe we can keep you busy with gemchaining gear if you don’t mind fighting unfair battles though.”
“‘Few fights in life are fair and equal. You either accept this fact comfortably content or spend your whole life a spiteful specter.’ My father told me that after I fought with another boy in Taresay.”
“He sounds like a wise man.”
“He is a noble apex who stands for his principles with cardinal virtue.”
“Ho, ho. A rather interesting fellow.”
The shouting of the crowd grows as several people start spilling outside. Petra looks over and says, “I have to go settle the masses who no doubt gathered around after my defeat. Your training is dismissed for today.”
“Then I leave them in your capable hands.”
As I walk off, I reach back into the resting room at the edge of the sanded arena. When my head enters the room, both my cloak and my sword’s disappearance greets me. A primal ferocity boils from my stomach while I stomp a wooden bench into the ground. I grasp the sides of my head and recite before I tear through a damn wall,
‘Think before you act. Think before you act. Think, think, think.’
As I null my thoughts into this single stream of words, my mind calms from a blazing inferno to a simmering coal.
My thoughts focus. The scent of fassar drenches my coat, so I just have to use my enhanced scent to hunt down the captor. Deluge helps me as we find the trail leading to the vile villain.
I dash through the oaken doors exposing the campus. Passing beside several buildings, the familiar blue stained windows with white stone greets me as I run across the well maintained garden, but the buildings within the university itself are a medley of variety unlike the city that surrounds several of its sides.
The gemchaining building uses the same red marble for the walls with the black trimmed windows outside as the inside, but the roof hosts multi-shaded tiles of slate varying from grey to black. White and curved buttresses border the edges of the the roof with numerous red torches radiate light of the same color into the sky from the jutting wood.
As I run across interconnected cobble brick roads, bands of grey stone edge forward through the black cobble bricks in circular patterns like a fish’s scales. Every twenty feet a bush trimmed into the shape of an animal passes my vision. Peacocks of green exude grandeur with colorful tales of lilac and honeysuckle maintained through the winter by lanterns hanging overhead.
Each of the lights radiate a yellow light and warmth that leaves the walkways both heated and crisp despite the chill outside their premise.
The scent grows stronger as I approach the conniving thief. By breathing deeply and repeating my mantra, my anger maintains a manageable level despite my outrage boiling beneath my skull. I reach into Alistair's classroom where the scent is strongest. The empty steel cages give me that live fassars didn’t mislead my hunt.
The scent radiates at the edge of the room where a student presents my possessions to Alistair.
Alistair replies, “Are you sure you wish to tear these down for residual power?”
The rotten and debased idiot replies, “Oh yes. These heirlooms give me bad memories of my parents. Please let me use them freely?”
Alistair puts his arm on his chin and replies, “If you believe it necessary, I will offer my services, but the artifacts will lose their current splendor. Surely your parents will turn in their graves if you do this.”
I shout, “Oh they will. Though it will be my parents who shift in eternal slumber.”
Alistair looks over saying, “Oh Jack, so you know about these artifacts?”
The scum ridden plague on humanity starts shifting nervously under my scrutiny, so I say, “Do not move cretin, else I rip your entrails from your chest with your own rended arms.”
The student pours sweat within moments after my declaration while standing perfectly still. Alistair shouts, “Have you gone mad? What has this boy done to you?”
“He stole my possessions. Even now I barely contain my anger at the slop of human filth refusing to cease its existence.”
“Calm down Jack. I will handle this. Micheal, is what he speaks of true?”
The repulsive mongrel named Michael replies with renowned confidence, “Of course not. This person just wants to tarnish my family's name since his own are just trash.”
As I walk towards him, I drill holes straight through his skull with my bloodshot eyes. The pressure in my face and neck builds as veins show while my skin flushes. Michael loses his composure as I whisper, “I seem to be mishearing things today. What did you say again?”
He wilts like a pillar of mud under an elephant at my presence as I stand several inches taller than him. He says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that you would find me.”
I reply, “You're obviously just an idiot writhing in your own obscene obsessions. You are lucky I don’t rip your soul from your body while tearing your skin off and smashing your bones to powder.”
As I walk over, I jerk my possessions quickly sheathing my sword while throwing my cloak over my shoulders. While I pat my cloak of the dust Michael moronically dirtied it with, Alistair says, “Where is this coming from Jack? I thought you were an apt student rather than this brutish thug.”
He meets my gaze as I peer at him, so I say, “Did you know this sword will drain the blood of all users besides myself? Did you know that this fassar cloak is a relic my family that has been passed down for generations?”
Alistair averts my gaze as I continue, “No. you know nothing of what’s going on, yet you just assume I’m being a brute for wrenching his words from his mouth without pulling each of his teeth as I do so.”
He clenches his fists and replies while grimacing, “I’m sorry Jack. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
I sigh deeply while lowering my gaze as my ire abates. After a moment, I reply, “It is fine friend. You were just trying to protect a student. Let’s just wash ourselves of this trashes corruption.”
I look towards Michael and say, “You're part of the gemchaining guild, right?”
He looks around nervously, “Uh. Er. Yes.”
I smile maliciously, “Then we will have a good time when we battle one another. Prepare yourself for anguish and agony when we meet next.”
Before I leave the room Alistair says, “Do you want to report his thieving? I’ll leave the decision to you.”
“He shall suffer for his own lack of morality. I assure you of this.”
“Uh. Try not to kill him Jack. I was also wondering if you wouldn’t mind starting a project involving Soul Forging. You’ve talent with the science, and with some guidance, you’ll go far.”
“I need time to decide if you're willing to allow me the luxury.”
“Of course.”
“Then until we meet again, rest well.”
“Likewise.”
While I trot out of the building, the echoes of Alistair's scolding resonate outward. He tears into the student with morally inclined arguments like,
“What would you have done if you tarnished your families name,”
“You could have died when you touched someone else's enchanted sword,”
“I will make sure that certain people know so that we keep an eye on you. This shameful display will never be forgotten. Your parents will know as well,”
While sipping on a warm, refreshing cup of justice, I walk through the campus as the sun reaches the horizon. The lamps lining the cobble walkways gleam yellow light from every angle while students walk by chatting about interests or gossiping.
As the orange hue of the sun’s light bathes the grass and cobble roads, the paths become sunset walkways like the sky graces its brilliance on the earth. The cool breeze carries birds whose songs blare with both cheer and frenzy.
As I stroll through campus, each building’s walls use different varieties of stone creating colors ranging from white to black to red. As I pass the library, the grey onyx reflects light from the maintained polish. With horizontally ragged streaks of black intermingling with the gray stone, the building looks like thousands of layers compressed into a series of square blocks.
Each of the construct’s rock structures use stone all from the same place, so the symmetry throughout creates flowing patterns that please the eye, and they blend together as if each walkway is surrounded by earthen murals.
Buildings with flat and pointed roofs pass my eyes begging to be explored as each building shows a different purpose and poise.
When I find the time, I will delve into these relics, but I am needed elsewhere.
I reach the music building passing the broken stone I left from my leap before. As I move deeper into the building, the sound of sadness assaults my ears. The majesty of the notes betray their wielder as they speak only of other’s disappointment.
As I enter through the broken doors that I snapped earlier, the harmony scolds the air as Joan slides her fingers across the piano. Her slender neck leads to delicate shoulders hidden by muscle. Her hand’s callouses and torn fingernails hide their delicate, nimble motions, but after seeing Petra who she really is, I rip apart my mind's presumptions of Joan’s appearance.
The fluidity of her motions increase as the disappointed melody concaves inward exposing her own sadness. The tears and guilt lacing her face mirrors in her music shearing the air with her own condemnation. Like a murderer plagued by guilt, she lashes herself with notes of self loathing.
The notes evolve into a desperate plea for acceptance. The loneliness pierces my chest as her perfect harmony warps until a cacophony of chaos pounds the air with severe concussions.
The apex of her symphony grates my ears. Her notes creep under my skin. My knees tremble as her suffering crushes against my shoulders. Her bane is her own. Another’s judgement cannot sully her suffering.
Her notes lose their power as she unwinds her tension. As I pace towards her, she looks up quickly noticing me. When our eyes meet, she rives her gaze from mine as though staring at the sun.
So I enclose myself beside her waiting for her.
Time passes and the atmosphere grows tense, but I remain patient despite the pressure. Her breathing grows sharper as she struggles under the ambiance. She snaps the silence with a raspy voice, “Why are you here?”
“To hear you.”
“To hear what? Do you want me to say sorry?”
“...”
“You wanna talk about how my parents are just perfect while you don’t have any? Is that it?”
“...”
“Do you want me to apologize for smashing your mother’s harp?”
“...”
“Say something dammit. Tear me down. Rip me to pieces. Be angry.”
“...”
“I broke your fucking arm. How can you not be angry?”
“You have broken no bones of mine.”
“Then what about your harp?”
“If the memories of my mother sunder us apart, then they are tainted beyond repair.”
“Scream, yell, howl. I just don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“The only person hurt is you Joan.”
“Stop turning everything I say back at me. You're just avoiding the problem.”
“You don’t have to hurt yourself anymore Joan. You can free yourself from your pain. Just let it go.”
“I deserve to suffer. I haven’t gained a damn thing that wasn’t given to me. You beat me at everything even though I haven’t earned anything.”
I howl, “So the only qualities that hold merit are those forged in the fiery crucible of suffering? You earn your strength. You hone your talents. you make your music. Don’t throw away what you have accomplished under some petty pretense.”
“You don’t even have parents or training or a private tutor your parents pay for. You still win. What does that make me? A loser?”
“It makes you human! Not everyone can say the same. Don’t turn your gifts into burdens. Love the parents who give you opportunity. Cherish what you’ve been given.”
She leans over crying, but I turn her shoulder forcing her face towards mine. Joan still stares downward, so I say, “Please listen Joan.”
She stays motionless sniffling, but I continue, “Everyone has problems. Whether they have too much or too little can only be understood by them. I used to think that I was the only one who suffered, but I was wrong. Petra told me how her parents had died.”
I gesture my hand outwards, “I was mortified. Here was another person who has known my suffering, but your music told me what words cannot convey.”
She winces at the mention of her orchestration but I continue, “Your songs hold emotion just as mine do. You express anguish and agony with such vivid clarity that my heart bleeds for your tragedy. I feel your misfortune. No one who hasn’t seen catastrophe can provoke such passion.”
Joan says, “My music is about guilt. Yours is about true suffering. Mine are just hollow complaints about nothing.”
I grab her chin raising her face to eye level then say with absolute and utter honesty,
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“We all face our own calamity, and we have no right to judge someone else's, even the bearer of the burden.”
I motion her face into my chest as I gently scratch her back. Her whimpers transform into wails and howls like a grieving mother who lost her child. The wetness on my uniform cools my skin as her tears leak through my fabric. Her ghastly cries collide with my ears mincing my comfort like grain through a mill.
But I shall not let her suffer alone as I have. I will not give desolation yet another victim.
As her cries die down, I release her from my embrace, and I string together my own song. With deft handling, my fingers swim across the keys despite their increased size. My melody begins with notes of desperation.
The slow, dreary notes cease as serene stillness swells in the air before the notes burst outwards. A deluge of sound pulverizes the lull with resonating beats of burgeoning vehemence.
As each of the sounds build upon one another, a blithe crescendo decimates the despondency cursing our aura. The mood lifts as we ascend from the abyss of our minds unto ether. Zealous zephyrs nuzzle against us as we freely float above the clouds like angels and eagles.
I discern Joan’s voice as she flutters across my notes intermingling with them as if lovers. Her fierce, thunderous voice overtakes my notes like an angry goddess crushing her foes. After the fever pitch of our apex, her voice abates until her lithe tones become hushed whispers.
Once the song ends, Joan says with puffy eyes, “It feels like a weight fell off my shoulders.”
I grin while gripping her belly, “Now you just need to lose some weight.”
She shoves me pushing me sideways while laughing with reluctance. I stand upwards looking at her while she blushes. I say, “Would you mind going for a walk?”
“Would you mind if I washed my face first? I have a rather unladylike appearance at the moment.”
“Of course. I shall wait outside for whenever you're ready.”
I gait through the multi-tiered auditorium lit by iridescent stripes lining the corners and borders of the room. As I step out into the hallway, the sun’s setting completely falls leaving only the blue, iron lamps to provide light within the building.
The shades of blue envelope the once green hallways. The floors of diagonally set black marble with cragged, white streaks support my steps with the pattering of my steps.
As I turn back, the doors I broke fill my vision. They usually sound proof the nearby area, but because I snapped them, our duet divulged into the nearby area where my enhanced hearing catches several eavesdroppers.
They hide behind the frame of a doorway around twenty feet away. Before they may run, I charge with explosive celerity. Two of the onlookers fall while three more trip over the bodies of the others slowing the escape of all present.
Their attempts at flight crumble under the heel of my speed. I sprint past each of the members until I reach the farthest associate from the stumbling group. I grab his collar jolting him backwards as his momentum and weight barely resist my pull.
I turn around throwing him onto one of the escaping members while tripping the last prisoner with my foot. By grabbing the thrown person’s belt, I lift him with one hand then I drag the other guy and girl across the floor where the other members gave up escape. I walk to the closest member on the floor throwing the members on the others while saying, “So what are you and your colleagues up to?”
The girl with black hair hosting white streaks responds, “We just heard some music playing in the auditorium, so we walked up thinking a club member was playing. We just listened is all.”
I get on one knee while crouching my back until I am eye level with her. I say, “How long have you been here?”
She avoids eye contact while grabbing the edge of her robe saying, “Just a couple minutes ago.”
“Oh really?”
“Uh...Yeah. Of course.”
“Let’s just presume that I know you’ve been here since the beginning.”
I look towards each of the members with urging eyes. I say while gesturing my hands outwards, “Look. Will you please refrain from informing the others as our conversation and performance was personal.”
“So you were with someone else?”
“Damn, alright. I ask as one student to another that you hold this oath under any circumstance. Will you all not stake your honor in this?”
“Uhhhh. Uhm. Sure.”
“So you won’t?”
“No. Uh. I meant no. We won’t.”
“Good. Then I trust you all have your lips sealed.” Before I leave, I take one of the members wooden violins rupturing the tool by struggling for several seconds then snapping it apart. The abrupt, biting boom cringes each of their bodies.
I drop the pieces of the object saying, “Goodbye,” as the wood hits the ground.
I raise myself from my knee standing straight. I pace towards Joan who also paces towards me. Meeting in the middle, we walk outside through one of the entrances on the opposite end of the students.
Before we trot outside Joan says, “Nicely done.”
While the sun has almost set completely in the sky leaving little light, this is no enigma at Mareovosa.
The lights lining the walkways glow brilliantly yellow. Phosphorescent flowers and fauna light the areas between walkways and buildings lighting the numerous flowers and trees. The habitation around us uses its own varying shades of light to illuminate the dusk.
The lights merge into each other creating multi-colored trails of light that float across the sky. When the wind blows, the glowing plants shift moving the aurora as though the very lights dance.
I say to Joan as we walk, “I’ve never actually walked around while looking at the campus at night. Whoever designed this place has attention for detail.”
Joan replies while looking at me in surprise, “Really? I often spend a lot of time out here. The campus feels different at night. It's less grounded and more airy I guess.”
“The designs of day are inclined for pragmatism while the sights of dusk are designed for allure. So how do you spend your time amidst this atmosphere?”
“Well, I sit around the trees sometimes with a book from the library. More often though I just walk around with friends talking about stuff.”
“Am I holding you from them now? If so, I will remedy my intrusion.”
“No no, I didn’t feel like spending the day with them any way. How about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, how do you spend your time?”
“Hmmmm. Thinking thoughts of you.”
She looks down blushing before I continue, “Hah, hah. I never said whether the thoughts were good or bad.”
She punches my shoulder while saying, “If all you intend to do is tease me, then you can at least tell me a serious answer afterwards.”
“I like to spend my time composing my own music or reading. I should find more time for books as they are a rather useful conduit for learning, but I find myself dragged into other problems routinely.”
“Like fighting tarantula slimes?”
“Hah, at least there's never a dull moment.”
“You do seem to attract conflict.”
“I would prefer the term, “Infected with chaos.”
“Some of it's your own hot hotheadedness getting the better of you.”
“Maybe, but my mother always told me it's better to have too much passion then too little. I agree with her sentiment.”
“You speak of your parents often.”
“They lie at the center of my life. What of yours?”
She ponders for a moment with her finger on her chin, “My mother tends the home while my father manages the family business. It’s rare you find a noble line that doesn’t use slaves and serfs for labor in business or at home, but my parents manage both without them.”
“You seem rather proud them each.”
“Slavery is a cruel, unjust practice that leaves those who partake in the process with dirty hands, but it is a hard thing to avoid. The fact they can compete with others who embrace the system speaks for itself.”
“It seems we both hold our parents in high regard.”
She pauses before replying, “Doesn’t it hurt to talk about them?”
I look upwards at the changing lights and answer, “There are times where their bereavement leaves me overwhelmed, so I distance myself from their memory, but at other times I find myself worrying that they will evaporate from my conscious like a morning fog against the sun.”
I look at her and say, “Sometimes I wonder if they smile down at me with sublime rapture at my progress while during darker days I wonder if they loath the monster I have become. Either way, I must move on, else I spend my present and future pondering my past.”
“You sound at peace now though.”
“As peaceful as I can be.”
We pace under a makeshift tunnel of several arcs of wood with honeysuckle and small glowing flowers that cover the vines curling around the wooden arcs. During our walk, we only saw a few students clustering in groups who seemed rather rambunctious, but they all exist in their own worlds oblivious to what's around them.
When we reach the middle of the tunnel Joan shivers as the winter chill penetrates her thin robe. I say, “Would you like my cloak?”
She waves her hands, “Oh no, I’m fine. I don’t want to use such a precious mantle.”
“That’s no concern. Your comfort means more to me than this cloak. Although, I would rather you not drop it or the like.”
“You’ll get cold too. My chill is nothing.”
Before she can persist with her excuses, I lunge my arm with my cloak in hand over her shoulder. Before I can slither away, she grasps around my torso. Her cool body meets my warmth, and she immediately stops shivering as I share my heat.
Some parts of her are soft and luscious, so I attempt to squirm out from under the cloak, but Joan clamps her arms around my waist with inexhaustible strength.
I say, “I should have just thrown the cloak over you. We're too close now.”
She smiles, “You're the one that put us together.”
“Perhaps, but if others see us like this, they will assume the worst.”
“It’s rather difficult to see at night and your cloak blocks their vision. I’ll take my chances.”
After a moment I reply, “You planned this.”
“Perhaps.”
“Clever. I’ll be more weary next time of your plans.”
She snuggles against me as her chest pushes against mine while her head fits on the front of my shoulder. She no longer emanates cold, and she smells like rose oil and rosemary. My heart rate rises as we pass different buildings.
My thoughts no longer remain on conversation. All I can think of is Joan's body against mine. Her white hair takes on a lighter shade of the lights around us changing with the wind’s whims. She breaths slow, steady breaths while her heart pounds in her chest just as mine does.
She’s enchanting.
I say in an attempt to distract my focus, “So why did you start fighting? I would imagine you gained further motivation as you fought.”
Her silky, pink lips dance as she replies, “Fighting has been a part of my family’s traditions since before we recorded our own history.”
“Ah, But how did you begin battling?”
“Well, I guess I was young when it first started. I remember getting into a fight with a young girl. She tried to pull my hair out and scratch my face off, but I won in the end. Whenever I got home, my father told me, ‘If you're going to be a fighter, then you're going to do it right.’”
She breaths deeply exhaling on my neck before continuing,
“So I was moved off to the capital where I learned from one of my relatives. She was a fierce teacher, but she meant well. I always hated disappointing her. She was so strong and so composed like a pillar of steel. She eventually left to attend Mareovosa, so I followed her footsteps.”
Her voice develops a poised melancholy as she continued, so I ask after she finishes,
“So you followed her footsteps. Would you disclose her name?”
“Petra.”
The word bristles the hair across my skin with revelation. I say pounding my words,
“You're a woman of many talents Joan. You can gemchain with balletic might. You sing as if a bird trapped within a cage found its freedom. Even your music sounds like Nightingales. Why do you despise yourself at all times?”
“I mean, it’s not that I despise myself I think. I just,” she loosens her grip turning towards me with a smile, “I want more from myself than just that.”
After a pause I reply, “Then you and I share that disposition for self expectation.”
We look forward having reached the female dorm for the upperclassmen. A lime colored light overflows from green torches near the pillared entrance where Joan says,
“It’s time for our parting. Petra and I have training early tomorrow morning, so I need to go to bed.”
“Then until our next meeting my merciful siren.”
“I don’t sing that well Jack.”
“Hmmm, after a second thought, I agree.”
She slaps my chest attempting to stop her giggling then she skips lightly while entering through the ironclad doors surrounded by columns of basalt.
A gasp of air escapes me as I lean on my knees after she leaves.
As with all things, moderation prevents the corruption of even the most addictive obsessions, but when I am around Joan, my spirits lift as if on opium. The scent of the air I breath becomes intoxicating. Moderating such a compelling presence proves beyond me.
Deluge says interrupting my reverie, “Her song nearly matches yours in impact though she seems unfamiliar with the style of play.”
I turn pacing with slow steps replying, “In my eyes, she encompasses my talent.”
“Hah, your perception of her passes through a filter of roses and hormones. Try seeing with your mind rather than your testicles.”
“Surely she influences you the same? How do you evade her charms?”
“When laying in the subconscious, I only feel the remnants of your emotions rather than the blunt strikes that clobber your sharp mind to an asinine pulp.”
“Then you feel for her as well?”
“Her self degradation disgusts me. How can a person overcome any hurdle if they cannot overcome themselves?”
“Maybe she simply pushes herself using guilt as a motive just as I use my obligation to my parents for inspiration.”
“Conceivably.”
“Even her guilt contorts to her will. She-”
“Enough of her. Do you wish for me to fall for her as well? No? Then let us discuss our augmentation.”
Nervousness inches up my torso constricting my neck as I say, “Surely we have done enough. Is more necessary?”
“Tell me Jack. Can we defeat the monster within that cave?”
“Should we?”
“Do not dodge my question.”
“Gah, we can’t. That abomination still terrifies my dreams and haunts my nightmares.”
“Then we shall evolve until we can. You’ll grow heavier with small, incremental increases in height. The changes will affect your current bones and flesh far more than your physical appearance.”
“...I don’t want to become a monstrous, revolting titan.”
My feet cease their rhythm as I pause while clenching my fists. Deluge replies, “Have I ever hurt you, even once?”
“What do you me-”
“HAVE I? EVEN ONE TIME? ARE MY AIMS SO DISGUSTING?”
His anger asserts against my mind like a club bludgeoning against bones. The indignation peels my skin. I whisper back, “No.”
“Then will you not put faith in me and my decisions? You lord over this body like an oppressive tyrant. Every single action we take must be approved by you alone. Am I so loathsome? Do I deserve such hatred?”
The trembling in his voice hacks at me with ruthless abandon. Guilt overcomes all else as I reply after an agonizing silence, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’s how you felt.”
He shouts with empowered resolution, “I do not care if you are sorry. I want change. When I wish to do something, think it over with your mind instead of rejecting my goals because of your irrational disgust over my desires.”
Swallowing my immediate retort, I deliberate before my reply. Deluge’s requests justify themselves with their infallible logic. We share this body as brothers with separate causes, yet only my purpose gains any ground.
If we are to be at peace, we have to listen to each other as their is no escape from each other. Even if his desires disturb me, I either accept that Deluge’s desires are both different and reasonable, or I reject his yearning while starting a war by losing my companion. The choice is obvious.
“My feelings have left you both belittled and marginalized. The injustice of my own emotions betray my intuition. Of course I will listen, just as you have listened to me.”
Deluge replies, “Then allow me to hunt as you slumber. This will eliminate your dreams, but you will not need to eat during the day.”
When he mentions hunting, my hunger flares. Even though I have done so much today, I have not eaten. I reply,
“Of course. The money I spend on meals during the day mangles my budget with hard hands. Your suggestion is excellent as it helps us both. If there is anything else you want to do or stop my doing, please ask.”
He says, “The denser forms of carbon throughout your body disperse an energy that I would rather not leak out uselessly. In order to prevent this, I need to create a sheet of lead throughout your skin.”
Deluge concludes, “This will change the color of your skin over time till it's more gray. Can you accept this?”
My stomach sinks as unease throttles my gut. His claims seem familiar, but I still reply, “Uh. Yes. That’s fine. Just avoid turning me into a metal block.”
“Perfect.”
My apprehension grows at the malicious intent of his voice, but he finishes,
“Thank you for your allowances.”
The dread degrades as his sincerity melts my regret. I conclude, “And thank you for voicing them. It is amazing how even two entities that share the same body can lack an understanding of each other.”
He replies, “We can’t read each other's minds can we? Misunderstandings will occur.”
Yawning loudly I reply, “I think it’s time for sleep either way.”
“I look forward to it.”
Everything he says unnerves me, but Deluge deserves to influence our path just as I do, so I remain silent as I walk towards my dorm.
I reach inside finding Luke resting on his bed like a soldier with his body facing upwards. I take off all my articles of clothing besides my pants and rest in the bed as slumber effects me.
Despite my resolve to help Deluge, I must admit this to myself.
I just don’t want to dream any more.
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