Lyviria
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An unknown pressure builds within my body, urging me to move. I know moving is not needed, but even in this comfortable sitting position, pricks of pain trickling along the length of my forearm warns me otherwise. Do I place my trust in my mentor or my body?
Clinging onto my mentor’s words in hopes of some transformation, I persist with my practice.
For what feels like an eternity of sitting with myself and my thoughts, something feels astray. A sense of misalignment forces a breath out through my nostrils, and relief spreads as pain dissipates. Another unsuccessful day of meditation.
Slowly opening my eyes, Doctor Amy sits in front of me in the same half-lotus pose she taught me—cross-legged with one leg over the other, forming a triangle with the pelvis at one point and both knees as the other two. She hasn’t shown an iota of movement after my sessions with her in the past month, and this time is no different. The only virtue I developed in this quiet room after sitting for two hours a day is that of waiting. Waiting for her to come back to reality.
And so I wait with eyes open and mouth shut. It was suggested, like every other morning, that I didn’t eat before sitting still. I wait longer. The blanket of muddy clouds and the prism of a clear window dulls the already dim natural light, souring any hope of upliftment for the rest of the day. Unable to change the weather to my liking, I can only wait for the next cloudless sunrise.
Yet the stagnancy of a murky sky is challenged by a duller force—Doctor Amy’s umoving body. What is it that hides in her core—that even the muddy clouds and her deathly still body can’t hide from me?
Within the room, no change in the intensity of light was apparent since the morning; likely the same brightness that will carry throughout noon till evening. But a silent scream permeates; its source in front of me. And for any of my attempts to grasp it and study it, I lose its meaning. It’s a subtle and ephemeral feeling; and since I can’t hold it, the remaining possibility is appreciation of this loud nothingness.
Looking at the clock, one minute passed. Too many thoughts in that single minute. Too many details. Maybe waiting is not a virtue I have after all.
For another hour, I struggle with sitting, coupled with my unwavering attention towards Doctor Amy’s presence. Every movement, every twitch of my body, every heartbeat, and every sway of my hair from the oncoming breeze is a ripple that agitates this communion between my mentor and nature. But anytime my mind deviates to something I suppose is more interesting, my head centers back on her as if any other option were tiring.
Finally, a total of two hours later, Doctor Amy greets me with open eyes. “How was it?”
“It’s the usual experience, but it's getting difficult to sit when everything in me says to move on from inactivity.”
“That’s a good sign.” Doctor Amy pushes off the ground to a stand with the rims of her feet, takes her white shirt off from the desk chair in my room, and puts her head and arms through its respective slots. “No need to worry,” she says, pulling her shirt straight.
“You say it’s a good sign, but I don’t feel comfortable. Must I be in the dark about my own progress?”
She lifts her hair out of the shirt’s back collar and gathers it with one hand, tying it to a ponytail. “As long as I’m supervising you, yes. Distrusting me already?”
“S-Sorry.”
“You apologize a lot; more so than my pre-integration contemporaries.”
“S-Sor—” She glares at me, then relaxes her face and warms me with gentler eyes.
“You remind me of my younger self—always with formalities and following the proper procedures, being on time, doing everything to perfection, even dressing yourself nicely. If any small thing goes wrong, you apologize and make up for it immediately. Sound familiar?” I nod, wanting to clam shut as sweat surfaces to the cold air. “Appearances, appearances, appearances. You know Kemia and the others don’t care at all, right?”
“Kemia does like my hair, though.”
“And so do I.”
We share an agreeable gaze in the lull, then a moment’s giggle. She continues: “You can appeal with appearances all you want, but people like me know it’s a clever facade. Since none of the Explorers care at all, what’s stopping you from being you? You have a nice and new supportive family.”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh yes you do, you’re not getting away with that from me.”
“… Myself? But I don’t feel that way. I don’t feel responsible.”
“Here’s a hint: it’s the same feeling you have when it’s difficult to sit.” I drop back down to sit. “Look forward to it, but not today. Let’s go meet Julie in the kitchen,” she says, holding in a laugh with bared teeth.
Standing up with my toes, I follow her out into the hall. “Why do you keep up your appearances, then?”
“Choice. Preference.”
“What are you talking about now?” Julie asks at her cutting station, her hair’s bun sticking out and above. She maintains an unbreaking attention towards her preparatory knife work for the upcoming meal, slicing vegetables smoothly and evenly.
“Gave Lyviria a little peek into my past,” Doctor Amy says, leaning over the kitchen counter to grab a pitcher and glass of water.
“The past where you loved to cry next to me, tell me about the world’s problems, and the ‘oh unfair world’ for a princess like you?”
Doctor Amy swings closer to Julie, places her fingers parallel to the vegetables, and Julie’s swift knife stops after taking a nip off my mentor’s nail. “What are you doing!?” I yell, hurrying to the medicine cabinet for a bandage by the bathroom, then rinse off her blood, disinfect, and wrap the finger.
“Similar?” Doctor Amy asks.
“And better,” Julie snorts.
“I have ears,” I tell them, freeing my mentor’s old, yet young finger and looking into her lively blue eyes. “You are lucky the nail grows back, what happens if the whole fingertip lops off?”
Doctor Amy looks up at her bandaged finger in the kitchen light, flipping it over for a front and back view while holding a glass of water in the other hand. “Then it lops off. But you and Julie have precision and compassion; worrying’s unneeded.”
Julie knifes away the remaining ingredients after a rinse, and sweeps down the board into a boiling pot. “I’ll leave it stewing and pick up Kemia. Hopefully this time I’ll join you for lunch tomorrow.” She dries her hand in a cotton towel and walks past me and Doctor Amy towards the hall, her speed displacing a significant portion of air that ruffles our hair.
“And watch the food for your colleagues’ sake, Lyviria!”
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The Next Day
“And you can all relish in Julie’s meal once again after class,” Seamus says.
“Finally!” Kai shouts in relief, throwing his arms up.
“You really love Julie’s meals, don’t you Kai?” Olma asks. Seeing Julie prepare the meals for over a month after my meditation sessions, it’s no surprise that her meals exude the attention and love she puts into it. The balance of flavors that hits every part of the palate, the natural aesthetics of the cooked meal, and the heartiness felt after its completion – from conception to our stomachs – is a pleasant experience.
Compare this to eating in that remote restaurant, the only difference is that of style. The same loving and compassionate effort put into crafting a meal that caters to all six of our palates is something I will miss, and Kemia seems to agree.
“Aw, what do we do now?” Kemia slumps in her chair with her head perched back. “I want to be with everyone again!”
A suggestion comes to mind, but I trickle my words through with hesitance. “We can play with the snow outside; build something maybe?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Knowing Kemia, I came prepared with a coat and pair of gloves and boots. Certain of her insistence to play, and with desire to put myself out there, I broke my first barrier of caring for appearances. The Explorers are a new and already integrated family, and there is no need to hold myself back if I already trusted them.
“That sounds fun!” Kemia walks to the window and presses her hands and face against it. “We can build an igloo together, too, and live in it with everyone.”
“Not if it melts the next day,” Notemi says, resting her head on the palm of her hand. “I don’t want to live in a cold, uncomfortable refrigerator. Sleeping in a cold bath is a better option. If you want to go far, take it to its extreme.”
Olma laughs. “Nothing is extreme if you are mad-minded!” The loose threads on his scarlet poncho dangles in tandem with the burst of liveliness rumbling out from his chest, projecting his idea onto Notemi. “Come with me to the creek tomorrow and we can all stand in the water for an hour.”
“Not happening,” Notemi replies.
“Olma, your training is for yourself; don’t kill your colleagues before their graduation!” Seamus warns.
I relax along with Olma, though for different reasons. “Can’t everyone have a mad mind?” Olma mutters to himself.
“If not an igloo, we can play in the snow with everyone; it will be fun!” Kemia says, continuing to look at the snow on the road between the classroom and the stone building across.
Kai is the first to walk from his seat out to the hallway. “Let’s go!”
Olma follows him for the lead, and I tail behind them with Kemia. We make our way across the boarded hall to the main doors of the classroom building as the outdoor chills approach closer and closer. One of the double doors at the entrance was open, and through the frame, sprinkles of snow floated to the ground.
“Nature has blessed us, look!” Olma says, walking forward and facing his palms to the sky. Taking a step out, the tracks from the morning have covered, though slight impressions of our footprints remain visible. The untouched snow, however, continues to pile as the gently swaying dots float about and around the area, finding their final and hopefully undisturbed resting place.
Walking out and along the classroom building’s wall, the window sill and the horizontal wooden beam above the glass are enriched with white—a contrasting color within the variations of grays and browns. Perhaps muddy clouds can bring adornment and beauty as well.
We continue to walk down the road towards the fountain in the town square, and Kemia trips onto her knee next to me, and I catch her arm in time. She giggles, and I see her eyes unfocused; her body gradually feeling limp by the second. “I’m feeling a little dizzy after the past week.”
“We can go home and see what’s wrong. Julie should be finishing her cooking at this time, and Doctor Amy will be here soon to check on us for training.” Her eyes remain distant and unfocused and she holds a grin as if lightly under an anesthetic. I put my index and middle fingers on the side of her windpipe.
In the front, Kai and Olma continue to walk further towards the fountain. Behind, Notemi and Laizen just steps outside the classroom building. Fortunately, they run over and quickly understand the situation.
“Olma!” Notemi shouts and waves one hand up, then points to us low on the ground. Past my cold fingers, Kemia’s heartbeat remains unknown to me. My gloves were in my coat’s pockets throughout the day, and sitting in the cold classroom with bare hands let them succumb to numbness. Withdrawing my fingers, I breathe hot air to return their sensations; confirming it by pressing them against the butt of my palm. I search for her beat again.
“What happened?” Olma asks, walking up to us.
“Dizzy since her week’s training. Don’t know what happened,” I tell him. I remain quiet to feel any subtle rise and fall on Kemia’s neck. “Heart’s still beating and seems normal, though a bit on the slow end. Can you carry her home?” Without question, Olma picks her up with both arms, and picks up his pace towards our home. I turn around to face Notemi to thank her.
Upon arrival, Olma walks in and takes off his shoes, then rests her on the couch with Julie shocked with worry. We take off Kemia’s shoes and let her rest comfortably, still with a smile on her face. I thank Olma and everyone for following us and taking Kemia to safety, then turn to fill Julie in on the incident. In return, she tells me Kemia didn’t tell her about any form of dizziness when she was picked up.
“Why’s she smiling, though?” Kai asks. Laizen chuckles behind everyone, and behind his hand.
“Issho looopy!” Kemia slurs, then uses one finger to draw air circles above her head, slowly revolving her locked arm. Notemi and Kai join Laizen in laughter.
“She seems fine,” Notemi says, returning her hazel hair to the side after a fit of laughter.
“Thank you Olma, I can take over now,” Julie says, prompting him to step back and letting her forward to kneel beside Kemia to take vitals. “All normal; but like you said, Lyviria, her heart rate is a bit lower. If not for her unusual behavior and slurring of words, I would assume she’s acting. Any further investigation would require advanced equipment.”
“We can give her the mind projector ring and see what happens,” Laizen says.
“And see into her mind?” I ask. “How will that diagnose anything?”
Laizen shrugs. “Worth a try, otherwise we can ask Julie to phone the Integrator to give us some of his equipment.”
“That can work,” Julie says, “this doesn’t feel severe to warrant any serious intervention.”
I sigh and walk to my room, pick up the mind projector from my drawer, and return with a large ring in both hands. Placing it on Kemia’s head and letting it compress, I press on both sides of the ring simultaneously. We watch as her avatar manifests from head to toe. A tap by the front’s embedded white crystal ball causes her avatar to come alive… then float into the air. It smiles and swims in circles above her body.
“She seems to be enjoying herself,” Notemi says.
“Is it really okay to leave her here like this?” I ask.
“Yes. She could just be enjoying a restful dream after her training. Don’t know if she’s hiding any more secrets from the past week, so I’ll make sure she gets a true earful after tiring me again,” Julie says, pinching and shaking her forehead. “Anyway, you can enjoy your afternoon until lunch is ready; give it an hour or so. I’ll keep watch of Kemia in the meantime.” She stands and shoos us to vacate the space.
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Kai and Olma sprint forward the best they can in nearly knee-high snow with their boots, reaching an open field in our remote village enclosed by a large boundary of trees. Their flailing arms in attempt to balance in the pits of their tracks leads them to trip onto the white cushion beneath them, falling messily.
Olma sits up from his mound and waves us to come over, and between me and Laizen, only Notemi steps forward to join him and Kai in collecting and building up snow. Having no inclination to join them, I brush away a thin layer of soft ice from a nearby rock to sit on, with Laizen joining me seconds later. “I expected you to join them, not Notemi.”
“Sometimes I break my own expectations; more so now that I’m on this path with everyone here.”
“You have expectations?” I ask. “It’s strange to hear you hinder yourself.”
“Or maybe it’s a goal.” He tilts his head up to stare into the white, foggy sky. “My goals keep changing by the day that even clinging onto them becomes difficult. The more I learn, the more I don’t know. When there’s a vast reservoir of things I don’t know, it’s a challenge to cling onto my minuscule knowledge. What if I miss something out there?”
“Is sentimentality the bane of an engineer?” I ask, seeing as he strays into a monologue.
“Sure it is. But maybe there’s a way to be both illogical and logical. What a possibility that would be—something that sounds absolutely insane.”
“Um, sure.” I look down at my gloved hands, absorbing all the solid white flecks landing on its bright lavender surface. “What do you think happened to Kemia?” I ask as the wind picks up and nearly pulls my beanie away.
“Aren’t you the one spending more time with her? My opinion won’t change the outcome.”
“You’re the most serious one here. Kai and Olma are busy enjoying themselves, and Notemi is a bit off-putting. A straight answer from her seems impossible.”
“Agreed with Kai and Olma, but Notemi? She does give straight answers. And it hurts.”
“Your answer?” I ask pointedly.
Laizen looks down at the still, uneven plains. If searching for an answer in his barely visible footprints, it will soon cloud from the accumulation of these free-floating dots of ice. “It’s not far-fetched to say I think she’s crazy. Whatever goes on in her mind is a mystery; but you’re more of a doctor than me.”
Why did I expect a different answer? It’s an answer I can come up with myself after observing his expertise and behavior for over a month. Changing the subject: “How’s your reading going?”
“Oh! There’s this book talking about communication that I found interesting—it’s about t—” He recoils back as a ball of snow – thrown from moments earlier – crumbles down from his face.
I hide a smile behind my hand; unable to prevent the giggles from cascading throughout my body. It spirals uncontrollably into stomps of laughter into the lightly-touched snow, pushing it further into the earth.
“Not so serious anymore, are you?” Laizen says.
“Of cour—”
…
“Looks like your new nose treats your green beanie and coat really well!” Laizen says.
…
“Hey, don’t stare at me like that, I didn’t do it, it was Kailus!” Laizen says.
…
“And Notemi, and Olma!” Laizen says.
…
“I’m sorr—” Again, but from the side of his face. Laizen wipes off the snow and turns to the culprit. “Stop throwing things at me! I’m a person!”
The air building in my mouth suffocates the laughter, but its accumulation pushes my cheeks to their maximum stretch, with pricks of pain telling me to let go, and burst.
“Don’t leave me out of the fun!” Kemia shouts behind me and Laizen. I open my eyes from laughter to see her smile, reminding me of her unconscious, goofy face. “No more laughing, it’s time to play!” With a grunt, she hurls a snowball at my face.
It misses, but I feel its crater of silence; its weight keeping my laughter at bay. There is only one person who should not be hit accidentally, and one person who can instill responsibility in a lull.
“Oh, I hit the scary girl.” The snow drops off Notemi’s face as I feel the air alerting me of everyone’s ever-increasing tension. A wind accentuates the chill on my snowed nose created by Notemi sprinting after Kemia; her maroon scarf trailing straight behind her.
Kemia runs, but Notemi chases her with hands digging and splashing snow at her. “You’re a lot more energetic now compared to the first day I met you!” Kemia teases. Both of them circle around our rock and around Kai and Olma, carrying Notemi’s futile snow drama wherever they go. Several more rounds of running and Notemi slows to a stop, bending forward with a pant.
“Aww, that’s it?” Kemia says. In her last effort to claim victory, Notemi splashes a sprinkle of snow in front of herself, barely making it arm's length towards the direction of her target.
“You’re enjoying this, huh?” Laizen says to me. I notice my pained cheeks from prolonged smiling, and sore belly from the now weaker chuckling.
“I gue—”
What’s there to hesitate about?
“Yes, I am!”