Chapter 12: Heartbreaker Haze (Part 1!)
This is the truth, when people are separated from expectations, they are doomed. What is an order without the expectation that it will be completed? A feeble plea. Beings nowadays are getting more separated from law and rules, societies and governments’ means to enforce expectations.
Once these suppose powerful systems and now showing their fragility. When a culture has long used these requirements of how to act, when they start to shift slightly, panic strikes. Men and women swap places, the snow becomes fire, and there grows identities non conforming.
Not that this is a bad thing mind you, I had personally benefited from being relinquished from these assumptions. These beliefs that certain things must be so. But when it comes to the decency of the average person, that is where distress starts. If you don’t follow this very necessary truth, that seldom kindness breeds collective happiness, doom approaches.
But that is the problem with the Oligarchy and its peoples. When does belief start and truth begin? Rather, where does the cultures’ conditioning end and the person start? It’s okay if you can’t answer this, you don’t need to right now.
For a person of my measure, the answer is that it starts at the hands!
Bolato knelt down to the corpse, seeing its brown stains. He wasn’t unfamiliar with bodies and knew that over time blood would dry into brown. What caught him off guard was the arrow used. A diamond shaped head, along with fletched feathers with a bird that he didn’t know of.
“Poor bastard. Must have passed some days ago.” He was dressed in fine leather, and he seemed to still have valuable rings on him.
“What do you think happened?” Skaldi pressed, as he surveyed the landscape for any persons.
“It definitely wasn’t for robbing him. But still, this isn’t an Iozian arrow.” Bolato brushed his thumb against it. It was a tough feather, maybe of a desert hawk. Amir sat beside the soldier and started to flip through his lengthy journal. He stopped at a passage, and showed a drawing of an exact copy of the arrow.
“That’s not good. That’s a damn Tripol one.” Bolato was brought by heavy discomfort.
“Does that mean they’re invading? Here?” Skaldi was frantic, unaided by his drinking.
“Maybe. But then again, those Tripolian archers aren’t so sloppy.” He pointed at the arrow, in its singularity.
“They have plenty of archers on their side. Hell, some of them can shoot three bullets within ten seconds. But that’s the problem. If we’re in bandit country, that means someone’s giving them supplies.” Skaldi was only calmed slightly, his mind rampant and terrorized.
“That's not good. That’s why Periatus is the way it is. But still, how are we going to get through?” While Bolato’s consoling happened, the scarecrow was quiet. Quietly digging a grave for the victim.
She wasn’t unknown to death, she worked with the Priest to dig graves for the fallen. But that was usually it for her. No funeral service, no knowing of the emptiness that death causes. Just a pickaxe and a hole to be made. Work to be done.
“Calm down Skaldi. No one’s gonna get hurt. We are many and whoever those bandits are, they are few. And remember, we’re going to get out of this alright. You got that sweetheart?” Skaldi wiped a tear from his eyes and nodded. He lost his fear but was replaced by the insecurity that fear causes.
“Would ya guys like to say something?” Vega’s erratic voice shook that insecurity tenfold. The victim was gone, and she was holding the arrow.
“It would be mean-mean not to say something to Recor.” Her request for a funeral broke the tension of the situation. Each person felt reprieve, that even in moments like this, Vega was still as joyful as ever.
“~Valiato. Remember this, grief is but the appreciation of lost happiness.~” The small girl felt shocked at the sight, but was eased by his words. That her feelings were okay to have, Valiato knew.
“~Yes Ari Amir.~” Bolato stepped first and whispered a prayer for the man. It was fast and respectful. Skaldi’s was less graceful, brought on by Vega’s act. How could he focus on himself while there was a body on the street? He stumbled through his words and was clear that he was more in his own head. The remaining two laid their palms on the soil, creating three lines and a circle.
Vega enjoyed this. It had been a long time since she helped someone that died. But something felt off. Like the soil was incorrect, or the ice around her was not right. Her thought went to the Priest, and how he would perform service.
“Dear dead guy, we wish ya have a nice after-afterlife. Ya may have been a stranger, but ya must have been awesome to the people around ya. Thanks, from Vega.” She closed her eyes as she performed the wonderful service, leaving Bolato in a confused trance.
“Hey, should I pick up the pretty lady or ya do it?” Bolato shook his head. Vega handed off the arrow and without conflict, picked up the unconscious Florato.
“We will get out of here within the week.” Bolato ordered. He piloted the wagon out of their way, and released the horses on it. Skaldi raised his hand to the victim’s wagon, hoping for good contents, but ultimately put it down as he got onto the wagon.
“Let’s just get out of here.” The elf called out, as Bolato drove their wagon again. The next few hours were somber and absent of their banter and bickering. The howling of the jungle frost was the only conversation held. No matter how hard the snow and wind hit, none of them shivered.
Vega was surprisingly not talkative. Not out of respect for the dead mind you, but because she thought Florato was sleeping.
Babysitting was one of the tasks she only did once. After being reprimanded for asking if the baby needed help throughout the event, the parents kicked her out. Again, not for a lack of respect. In fact, she followed the orders of the infant, that being asking for their mother. Vega was stalking the woman throughout the day.
She thought Florato at that moment, a baby. A very pretty and big baby. This prompted her another thought. Whenever roaming in the middle of the night, she would hear these bizarre sounds. Not of the church chants, or the rhythm of whatever plant she passed by that day. She heard a voice singing a song.
It had come from the inside of the house, and she had peered inside it. It was an old woman, singing a lullaby to her granddaughter. Most Iozians don’t live past fifty, so seeing a gray haired woman was a rarity. Her voice was shaky and soft like the flakes of leaves.
But it carried the strength of a people. It blended the waves of the oceans, creating the cheers of a crowd. And the crunching of brick and mortar, the tongue striking the roof of the mouth. It was a mixing of natural and artificial beauty.
Her hands were slender and wooden, her face wrinkled like melted candle wax. Not traditionally charming, but it was attractive. Like how a father is to their child, or a tree to a climber. It calls out to them. The lullaby was a sweet thing.
“Rest my seed. Rest with great speed, my bounty. Sleep like the reeds do, over in the next-next county.” Her voice cleared, and was far more composed. It caught Amir off guard.
“Rest my love. Rest like-like the stars above, far away my love. Sleep with calm and graze, and with my warm embrace.” Valiato felt healthier, not as cold and shocked as she was before. Amir wasn’t amused.
“Wear your cap and put on your gloves, because the night is right, and is full of my love. My love is true like the stars above. Now go-go to sleep my love.” Vega slowed at the end of the lullaby, savoring every word of it to the last. No one acknowledged it except Valiato, who smiled at the construct.
The day was turning to evening, with the enchanting light of the sun being converted by the moon. The jungle turned into a forest, but the vines remained ever present. The wagon was nearing the top of a hill , just as a break of snow formed.
The land was spread apart like butter on bread, and dipped low into the earth. A town resembling a still beating heart pumped and survived beside the lake. The lake formed veins around the town, making red rivers to travel through. Underwater breaker plants heated the pool, as their glow turned its blood vessel red. Smoke from its chimneys faded into the sky, and the streets became whiter each step away from the buildings. Boiling bubbles on the lake popped, along with jumping fish, as a sign of a warm body.
The wagon crawled into the town, the only people outside the soldiers. A slender blanked woman approached.
“Who are you, and what are you here for?” She yelled, as the snow howled along with her.
“People trying to pass through! We’re actors!” Bolato chuckled out, half of the laugh caused by the frost and the only by exhaustion.
“Aren’t we all! I know you aren’t bandits, but we do need to do some tax!” Bolato nodded, handing the soldiers a few packs of food, along with gold. The woman soldier scanned the wagon seeing an elf and a Tripol inside. She held her disapproval to herself. Checking the packs, she glowed.
“Don’t let the bandits know you have this. We got a place you all can hold up.” She led the wagon to an apartment sized building. The team got off, as Bolato unhitched the centuries and placed them in a stone barn nearby. As Vega was carrying the actress, another soldier approached.
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“What are you doing with that girl, construct?”
“I won her in a concert!” Then she promptly walked into the apartment. The soldiers looked on in bewilderment and faint jealousy.
“You can get girlfriends in those things?”
“Man, I hate living here.” A soldier groaned out. The party settled in their accommodations, which were better than wood and blankets. It was stone and blankets, now with pillows! The apartment was gray thick slabs of stone, looking more like an armory than a place of rest. Bolato felt eased by the resemblance, that it would be difficult for criminals to strike. There were only two other guests in there with them, and it was a cute young couple in an adjacent room.
“Glad that's done and over with. Do you think we can start heading out tomorrow, captain?” The woman soldier snickered at the title. She was of strong muscle and power, but it didn’t show in her form. Her face was also far too dirty to be anything close to a captain. Her monolid eyes squinted at him.
“I appreciate the name. But they just call me an officer. Sadly, you might have to wait for a couple of days for the storm to clear up. However, we’re gonna be having a feast in a few days or so. For now, enjoy your time at Vein Xinyuai.” The officer exitted, and closed the fur covered door behind her.
There were only a couple bed rolls between them so they paired up. Kaliba however snuggled by a heat stone Bolato purchased alongside the room. They quickly dozed off, as Vega stuffed Florato into her bedrolls. And for added touch, she placed her cap on her head tight.
“Man, actresses sleep a lot. Oh well, night-night pretty lady. Don’t let Kaliba bite, because he likes to do that to girls.” Vega left the apartment and stared out at the town. Bright red pillars, bluish tiles, and pathways smoothed out to her.
“Time to help-help people!” She marched to the center of the town, seeing the still flowing aqueducts coming from the lake. The mainstreet had plates and bowls made of jade, meant to give offerings to spirits. She tossed a coin into one.
“Keep the change!” Heating pipes blew steam upward, fiercely fighting against the cold. Most of the building had such systems, with a coal facility aiding the process. She at first wanted to enter, but realized that there was fire inside. Seeking another option, she walked to the lake. Its glow shined and added natural light to the town, as the rushing water shone through.
She saw two people in the far distance. They seemed to be swimming, and of youthful age. If there was a conversation held, she couldn’t hear over the wind.
“Hey! Do ya guys need help?” She waved to them. They didn’t notice, probably enjoying the scenery around them. Rubbing her bandage, she got a plan.
“Swim time!” She hopped into the lake and took to paddling through the river. It wasn’t a far distance, only a few hundred yards. But as she continued to swim, she started to notice people. Splotched figures behind the couple.
“Oh boy! More-more people to help! Yippie!” Vega squealed with joy. The figures became clear images, men in rug like armor. Some of them held knives and spears. The scarecrow was just fifty yards away.
“Hey! Dudes, do ya guys need help?” The couple heard her voice, and turned their heads to Vega.
“Because I saw your guys’ mean looking friends behind ya. And not to be mean, they look like they could use some help!” Both of them slowly craned their faces behind them, to the band of brigands.
“Help us!”
“Alright!” The group snatched the pair and ran over the hill, just as Vega got out of the water.
“My jacket is ruined. Oh well-well, I’ll just ask Skaldi to clean it when I get back.” She raced over the hill, and saw four men trying to ride one baby century.
“Move you goddamn bug!” Two of the men tied up the couple, while the other two attempted to command it.
“That's not how you’re supposed to do that.” Vega knelt before the century’s mandibles.
“What you say?”
“Centuries don’t work like that. They need to be nurtured and cared for. Imagine a grapevine in desperate need of weeding. You don’t just whack and hack off parts of it, you make a calculated effort.” Everyone including the captives looked at each other confused.
“Get off, I’ll show you how to do it.” Vega, in a proud noble manner, shooed the brigands off the century. She then stroked the century’s center armored plate.
“You touch up on key points, then it does what you want. Failures use brute force, when only a loving touch will do.” The scratching calmed the century down, as now proceeded to move forward. Everyone was impressed, including the couple. Vega was having a faint pride in her face, no smile but the contentment of teaching a skill was in her eyes.
“Now, you two try.” She pointed to the captives, and the bandits relinquished them. They cautiously went on the back of the baby century, copied the same movements, and the big bug obeyed. Within a minute, they disappeared over the hill. The bandits smiled at the demonstration, then frowned, and then charged at Vega for her clear deception. She turned back to them.
“What-what was I doing? Oh yeah! Do ya guys need help?” They stopped in their tracks. The leader noticed the clear personality shift. Her eyes and smile were lively again.
“You stole our century!” The brigand hissed out.
“No I didn’t?”
“Yes you did! You stole our century when we were stealing some people!” The leader bellowed at her, spitting saliva in her bag face.
“Ya were stealing people?”
“Yes!?”
“Oh….OH! Oh no…” Vega immediately rushed away from the chasing brigands. She hiked up the hill as she saw the couple in town.
“Oh no! I didn’t help them! They’re going to hate me now.” Vega’s fear returned, now caused by the fact that the chance to aid the couple was limited.
“Get back here!”
“No. You’re a bad guy, I can’t help ya!” Her voice shivered, again conflicted with her nature. Just as the couple disappeared into the town, a cohort of troops appeared from the armory.
“Damn it! Turn back boys!” The bandits spun on their heels and raced over the hills. Vega continued to race as well.
“Must! Help! Pretty people!” Bolting to the marching troops, she hopped over them.
“Sorry. Just need to stop feeling bad!” The beating heart town pumped in mania, as mobs of people were outside. The couple was being consoled by a priest, while the town mayor was attempting to control the crowd’s emotions. The officer walked up to the scarecrow, who was desperately trying to push through the mob.
“Calm down. What happened?”
“I don’t know! Some weird-weirdos were stealing people I was trying to help, and I blank-blanked out then-” The officer wasn’t having it.
“Shut up. Look, do you want to talk to the people you just saved?”
“...sure?” She commanded an opening to the couple, who were shaken by the event.
“Do ya guys need help?” The pair clung to the scarecrow, squeezing tightly. They were crying. A lot. Like, really really ugly crying. Not that I blame them, it was an upsetting experience for us all. All except Vega.
“Oh. Okay, ya can use me as a tissue, no problem.” Snot was drooled all over her. The crowd continued to complain to the mayor, screaming fear and conspiracy.
“It's the newcomers!”
“That scarecrow caused all this! It's not meant to be alive, it's the product of Nemesis!” Another croaked out.
“They’re attracting the bandits!”
He struggled to slow their panic, but with the aid of the officer, the crowd dispersed. The couple left hideous mucus on Vega’s jacket, but she didn’t mind. Vega was happy to be of use, even if others put their literal emotion residue onto her. As everything calmed down, the officer and the mayor spoke to each in hushed tones. After their deliberation, the officer held Vega by the shoulder.
“Hey, I know you just saved some of our people and all…”
“Yes?”
“And you did that when you could have just… not done that and gotten away with it…” The officer was trying to suggest something, which Vega didn’t pick up.
“Yep?”
“...You aren’t allowed to go to the feast.”
“Okay. Can I still help people?” The officer turned to the mayor, who shrugged.
“Look, you can help us by just doing a simple thing. You just stay in your apartment when the feast happens. Ok?”
“Okay. Ya sure you don’t want me to do anything else?” Vega was trying to suggest something, which the officer didn’t want to pick up.
“No.”
“Aw shucks.” The scare walked back to her apartment. It wasn’t usual that she was told to stay in one place, but it was her least favorite task. When work was here, there were people there. As she returned to her room, everyone was fast asleep. All except Florato, who had just woken up.
“Where are we?”
“We’re inside a vein-vein.” Vega educated. Florato didn’t learn.
“You mean one of the vein cities, right?” The scarecrow nodded. Vega didn’t know what a vein city is, but it sounded right to her. Florato blew a sigh, and wiped her forehead of sweat.
“Goodness, after seeing that guy, I thought I was having a nightmare. Speaking of that, someone was singing to me. Know anything about that?”
“Nope!”
“Aw shucks.” Florato snapped her fingers, disappointed.
“Can ya give me back-back my hat-hat?” Florato hadn’t even noticed the hat she was wearing, along with the fur blanket. She knew it was Vega’s doing. Funny, a thing that wasn’t barely close to a human was treating her better than others in recent memory. She handed it off to her, and Vega bowed.
“Thank ya milady.” She tipped her hat to the actress. “Do ya have a nice dream?”
“Uhh, sure? It did have someone singing, which I already said.” Florato got up, breathing out fog. Shivering, she walked over to her pack and changed into a large leafy coat.
“Are there any other rooms in this place?”
“Yep, but the one next to us is occupied. Up-upstairs isn’t though.”
“Good, it hasn't been awhile since I’ve been in a vein.” Florato, forced to waddle while wearing the coat, carried her pack as she went out the door. Climbing up the stairs, Florato laid her hands against the walls. Knocking at them, she could tell that they were thick and hard. Going up three floors, she opened a door to an empty room.
“There’s nothing like midnight practice.” Laying down her pack, Florato scooped out her instrument. It was bone bright and sea smooth. The form fit perfectly in her hand, and had many holes in it. In the palm of her hand, was a clay beauty.
“Cool-cool.” Vega was right next to Florato's face.
“Damn it! You have to stop doing that!” The actress jumped back, with Vega squatting beside her still.
“Sorry. But…what is that?” Vega pointed.
“This? It's an ocarina.” Vega’s eyes went blank for a moment, then resumed their scribbled form.
“Made of a pot.” Vega’s voice didn’t quiver, it was clear and precise. To her, it was a piece of the moon that came to the earth.
“Yeah? How did you know that?” Florato was taken aback, she hadn’t even mentioned it to her.
“How did-did I know what?” Vega’s scattered speech returned. Florato, although in her brief time with her, didn’t see the events that took Vega’s character.
All she did observe was her keen eye for the details. Whether it be the mention of the exact type of tweeting a bird would make, or how the studs on her boots created the chomping of teeth, Vega had a knack for things that made noise. But rarely, did she actually care for musical instruments.
“You knew what it was made out of!” The actress asserted.
“What was made out of what?”
“My ocarina?” Florato presented the holed instrument to her face.
“What is it made out of?”
“You just said that!”
“Did I? I must-must have forgot?” Vega forgot.
“No you didn’t!” Vega definitely forgot.
“But I did-did.” Vega absolutely, positively, forgot what she had said.
“Whatever. Just, don’t try to interrupt me when I’m practicing, ok?” Florato pleaded, with the scarecrow giving a thumbs up. Placing her lips on the mouthpiece, she exhaled a blessed wind. Flying through the cold corpse sky, her song brought an earthy charm to the air.
Maneuring her fingers quick, and drawing air slow, she played the ocarina like how an ear hears. With ease and enjoyment. It wasn’t like how the musicians performed it at the concert, or like how the village sounded. Blending, divine and mortal. Sky and sea. Outsider and familiar. Imitation and authenticity. Vulgarity and beauty. Tool and uselessness.
Vega observed her playing, and knew. She knew it in her soul. Whatever Florato was doing, it was for her. A means to end. A tool to make elegance manifest.
Music, at least Florato’s making of it, was a real magic to Vega’s ears.