Date: 8th of Choiku, 223 AR, Voice:_____, Weather: Rain
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Mathis was sat on the edge of the Sheifel bridge contemplating his own existence when a bomb went off, decimating the iron structure and propelling him down to his death.
The explosion was magnificent. Furious flames encircled the area and the unfortunate cars in transit ceased to be anything but metal scraps.
But there is only so much to be said about a simple explosion and more than everything to be said of a young boy's existential contemplation.
The slumped shoulders, furrowed brows, and general sour disposition which possessed Mathis’ mediocre face was a result of a mental tension inflamed a day prior by a variety of individuals’ actions and words.
It began with a girl he liked, as it always does. In came the beautiful (kind of) face of Nelly Holsteim to the mountainside coffeehouse Mathis worked and lived at. As he turned around to attend to the counter, he was taken aback by her beaming smile and shining hazel eyes which always struck a skip in the beat of his heart. He stood paralysed, as if in the presence of a goddess, until Nelly broke the silence.
“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”
Mathis’ body tensed up as he thought of something clever to say.
“Y – yeah. I’m a bee in the, you know, bakery.”
She twisted her head slightly, puzzled as to what the hell Mathis had just said. Mathis could tell his conversation value was practically worthless at the moment, so he fell back on the coffeehouse script.
“So. What can I get for you?”
She began to point at the goods behind the glass window.
“I’ll take two hexberry muffins, a chocolate croissant, and…”
Her voice trailed off as her gaze tilted up and to the left where she scanned the drinks menu written in chalk.
“One Hourglass Fog and an Americano.”
Writing down her order, Mathis became curious as to the volume of it.
“You’re not gonna have all this yourself, are you?”
“No, no, no,” she chuckled as her face transitioned into a diffident but blushing disposition. She seemed reticent, but finally let out what was on her mind.
“Phil asked me out on a date a couple weeks ago and this is our third one. He really needs his afternoon coffee.”
Mathis’ heart sank at the response to his curiosities but managed to hold a stolid front.
“Oh. Well, I’m happy for you guys. Where is he by th- oh there he is.”
The bell struck once and in came Philomel Anserin, eldest son and direct heir of Marilyn Anserin, matriarch of the prestigious and noble Anserin family. He was overdressed for the bakery, as he was most locations. Golden hair slicked back with gel, a fox-leather trench-coat enveloping a tailored baby blue dress shirt, and an intricately decorated black-and-white tie.
As he swaggered into the site, Nelly bounced up to his chest and looked upwards with a gleeful, innocent deportment. He calmly stared down at her, a sly smile dressed on his angular face.
“You ordered my coffee, harlot?”
She chuckled and smiled at his laidback drawl, dragging him by his left arm to an empty table.
Mathis got to work preparing the order. He placed the mid-sized granules of Colombian into the coffee maker and refilled the water tank with the recently ionised water. The alkaline nature of the water helped counteract some of the Colombian’s bitterness so the final taste of the coffee was smooth and unobtrusive. He then picked out the hexberry muffins and croissant with a pair of tongs behind the glass counter and placed them into white paper bags. The coffee began dripping when he had packed the croissant, so he decided to take his time with the hourglass fog.
He was just about finished pouring the fog into the hourglass when he glanced over at the honeymooned couple and witnessed Phil performing a small lightshow with his right hand. It was of a young girl gracefully dancing along a river, manipulating the water to dance in harmony with her. She was surrounded in all directions by awe-inspiring geometries which shifted and transformed so quickly one could barely process them. All this in the palm of Phil’s hand, Mathis was mesmerised by the sheer skill. The individual sparks were clean to a near-master’s level and the overall image was proportional. He wondered how someone his own age could possibly attain this level of kan proficiency.
Then he remembered the family Phil came from. The Anserins were some of the most revered kan families in recent history. They cemented this title thirty years prior when Mariki and Daelis Anserin, aunt and uncle of Phil, wiped out armies of soldiers in the Laminal Wars 30 years prior. Mariki in particular had contributed much literature and knowledge on the study of kan powers, influencing a whole generation of kan-wielders living contemporarily.
As Mathis realised this, he told himself in conviction ‘course he’s this good. It’s in his damn blood.’
The order was finished so he set out its contents on the pickup station and called out to Nelly.
“Nelly, your order.”
But she was still mesmerised by Phil’s handiwork, completely ignorant of her surroundings. Mathis tried a different approach.
“Phil?”
Immediately the well-dressed prodigy cut off his lightshow and turned to the counter. Mathis pointed at the black coffee and Phil stood up to receive the order. As he approached the station a curious look came over him.
“Have I seen you before?”
The question, despite its simplicity, sparked a guttural fear in Mathis. It might have been he was a whole head shorter than Phil, or he was intimidated by his kan skill, but Mathis felt uneasy engaging in conversation with this familial behemoth. He responded with a dry throat.
“I’m, in your year. We don’t have any classes together.”
The angular brows remained furrowed on Phil’s face as he gathered all the items and walked back to the table with an eager and bouncy Nelly waiting for him.
Mathis stared on, struck by a pang of jealousy that such excitement was incited by somebody who wasn't himself, and in fashion his mind embarked on a despondent excursion to the depths of overthinking, ending with a spiteful retort towards God, “no chance of giving, aye?” He took his eyes away from the table and tried to ignore them.
Business was slow in this season. It was autumn as you went inland to Proxima so not many tourists travelled to the beaches on the edge districts. The local townsfolk of Pomohei also were not wont to visiting coffee shops as they thought coffee and ‘other foreign imports’ were somehow an invasion upon native Rhylean culture. At best, they simply refused to give business to the foreign entities.
At worst, unbridled chaos.
And thus, the winter lull leaves many shops barren, only standing hollow by the low costs of property among the lazy Pomohei mountains.
Mathis made a judgement call and decided to risk his post for the sake of his own sanity into the back kitchen. He walked around, thinking nothing in particular. The sourdough starter caught his eye and he made sure to feed it. There was some loose flour on the floor, so he brought out the broom from the utility closet and cleared it away. As he was returning to the closet to put back the broom he noticed the industrial mixer, a hefty metal cylinder named ‘Old Ben,’ making awkward noises. It was like a man swallowing puke mid-sentence.
Mathis placed the broom next to the closet and peered inside the machine. The central actuator was stalling in periods, making a whirring sound and moving 30° before stalling again.
This was the new objective to take his mind off things, Mathis thought to himself. Find out what was wrong with the actuator and potentially fix it. He took off his baker’s apron onto the floor, laid down, and shifted himself underneath the electric panel for Old Ben. In the tight space, he managed to bring his hand up to his face and summon a small bulb to illuminate the panel.
The light revealed the Cunifei family emblem, a verbose and intricate line work of a concentric arm wearing a metal shoulder pad. It was Benjamin Cunifei who this machine was named after. Patriarch of the illustrious Cunifei Engineering Families, he once built all scales of machines and trinkets for the Violet Sea District, Pomohei included. The district was fortunate for his charitable presence and raised him as a token of pride.
But that was ages ago, and much like Ben’s body passed, so did his body of work. The materials he used in previous generations were indeed strong and reliable, but in the end, time won.
Tongue in cheek, Mathis transformed the small bulb into a screwdriver and got to work loosening all 6 screws to open the panel revealing Old Ben’s circuitry. There were a myriad of copper wires and microchips which themselves were inert, but produced a low hum which implied activity.
It was at this point Mathis realised he knew nothing about electrical engineering and that this was a pointless endeavour. So he lay under the bulky machine, indolent.
The distractions around the kitchen had almost displaced the adolescent envy he felt that the girl he fancied was giggling like a schoolgirl towards a guy he felt would never accept him as an equal.
‘What a piece of shite existence,’ Mathis thought to himself.
Suddenly, a sharp, bellowing voice pierced the kitchen ambience.
“MATHIS!”
A suffocating fear shot through his body and mind as realised the trouble he was in. Clumsily, he slid himself out under Old Ben and stood straight up in obedience to the wrathful figure in front of him. It was Percy, the owner of the coffee house and Mathis’ guardian. As Mathis avoided eye contact with Percy’s wide eyes, he could tell he was drunk. Based on the putrid stench emanating from Percy’s grey under-shirt, Mathis noted it was Deuts Whiskey.
“Mathis,” Percy repeated with a softer but stern cadence. Mathis still looked away.
“Look at me.”
He grabbed Mathis by the shirt collar.
“The hell you doing under there? Why’s your apron on the floor?”
The proximity to Percy’s red eyes formed an apple-shaped lump in Mathis’ throat. It felt like a herculean effort to muster out one syllable, but he somehow managed.
“T – the actuator was, acting u- like stopping and stalling in, places.”
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Percy looked over and saw Mathis hadn’t lied, but his anger didn’t falter.
“And ye decide to fix it yosef 'stead of telling me?”
Mathis had no response to this, so he stayed suffocating in silence.
Percy let go of Mathis’ collar and began surveying the kitchen. “Why’s the broom next the closet not inside?”
Mathis was slightly confused by the question, but finally realised he hadn't put the broom back into the closet as he was supposed to. He had no response and continued to look away in shame.
“WELL?” Percy shouted, shocking Mathis into a panicked state.
“I – I… I was negligent.”
Percy stared cooly at Mathis’ face, his eyes communicating a fatherly disappointment underneath the intoxication.
He asseverated tiredly, “Damn right.”
Tension continued in silence for a few moments. All that could be heard were the faint muffles of the present customers and the distant passing of a truck. Percy scanned the area further, looking for anything else that was out of place before continuing his interrogation.
“How long were you under there?”
Mathis had calmed down a little in the silence and responded flatly, “I’m...not sure. Maybe a few minutes.” Percy crossed his arms and began nodding in apparent understanding.
“Yeah, yeah. Few minutes. You didn’t happen to hear the, the counter bell in those few minutes, huh?”
A strike of fear emblazened Mathis’ heart. He hadn’t heard the bell and was paralysed to admit it. But the truth escaped his mouth regardless.
“No sir, I didn’t.”
Percy’s eyes widened again and his breathing became weightier and more intense in fury. He stepped forward and was about to lean down to Mathis’ eyes, but stopped abruptly, nodded his head in disappointed contempt, and silently stumbled out of the kitchen into the back.
Mathis stood quiet, staring at the floor, choking on his own breath like he’d inhaled toxin. It may have been the miasma of alcohol which emanated from Percy, but the birth of tears began to swell on his dark eyes. He felt ashamed he’d disappointed Percy. He shouldn’t have gone off shift on his own accord and now one of the only people who was supposed to care about him was angry. He should have had more discipline to stay. But he was also angry at Percy for delivering the lecture in such a brutal manner.
“Don’t have to be such a dick about it, drunkard,” he muttered to himself as he wiped away a faint tear.
With a deep breath, an exhale, he returned to the counter. It seemed no one had heard the commotion in the kitchen. There was a customer at the order counter, patiently awaiting. Mathis slapped on his fake smile, making sure not to show his imperfect teeth and asked, “Hey, what can I get for you?”
There were about two hours left of Mathis’ shift. After fifteen minutes, Nelly and Phil began to make their exit. Mathis called out to them, “Hey, see you guys in school.” But it seemed to fall on deaf ears, perhaps due to the deafening rain outside, as they made no indication that they had heard Mathis and left the building with consistent pace.
As the clock ticked, the remaining customers left and Mathis was left standing at the counter, alone, introspective. He gazed down at the linoleum floor which imitated some variety of birch, but it didn’t process in his mind as he was reminded of school tomorrow. A bubble of disgust mixed with despair spread from his stomach outwards.
It was an upper class institution called the Empyreal Academy of Ibanka (EAI). It hosted prodigies and neurotics alike, not that they were mutually exclusive. Talented Rhylean natives and Terhyls attended the institution. They were trained by powerful empyreal warriors along with great teachers, often mutually exclusive.
The students were primarily an upper class variety, sons and daughters of mercantile high families who gained their wealth after the rift between Rhyles and Terra was opened. Percy was insistent on Mathis attending the institution despite not fitting under that demographic. He believed Mathis should receive the best education possible on wielding his inherent kan powers.
The education itself was good, Mathis supposed, but what he despised most about the academy were the people who attended.
He didn’t know if he was ready to deal with the moronic elitist conversations about vacations to exotic places, visiting other cities, hanging out with other city-people, life-changing experiences in the third-world, the wealth of hedonistic futures, etc.
Mathis couldn’t relate to an inch of those exciting technicoloured lives. All he did in the present was work and study, and his future was yet plagued with opportunities to fail. He thought about what he desired to do, if everything worked out well, what he would spend his time on in daily life.
Action-packed dreams of joining a script seemed hopeful but unrealistic. He’d need to be far more skilled as a warrior to join a post like that. Perhaps the next best thing was a police officer. But all they really seemed to do was stand around trying to look intimidating. Or maybe he’d carry on working at the coffeehouse.
When the thought of that future entered his mind, a torrent of frustrated tears threatened to flow out. He hated working at the coffeehouse. It was the most unsatisfying, dull, chore, and seemed more like a duty to carry out to an exploitative master who’s constantly wasted and yet nothing’s ever good enough for h–
A customer came through the door.
“What can I get for you?”
When his shift finally ended, Mathis defeatedly took off his apron and gently placed it on the counter. He walked out the door remembering to flip the ‘OPEN’ side backwards. The rain had finally ceased, leaving the ground shone with the characteristic lustre of asphalt. Across the parking lot he stepped onto the main road and, without taking notice of his left or right, walked up to the guardrail on the other side.
As he leaned over, he took in the familiar view of the picturesque Violet Sea in all its natural glory. It impressed him even to this day, seven years after he had first been adopted by Percy. The sea could be seen far below, shimmering like amethyst. At this time, the tide was low and the wind was mild. On the horizon, one could see the flow of water drop off the world of Proxima to Dista below. In the distance, the giant range of the Pomohei mountains continued on. It was funny that some of the clouds that looked like mountains were next to mountains anyway.
But the view didn’t provide the therapy Mathis had hoped for. His internal chaos remained flagrant so he escaped the epic site and traversed along the main road to see where it would take him. The road was surrounded on both sides by giant trees of a turquoise quality. Very seldom a car passed, but when one did, Mathis was considerate to move further away from the asphalt closer to the bounding trees towering him. The weather was cold from the rain's wake, and Mathis was underdressed, but he felt some perverse satisfaction in the pins and needles which attacked his neck. A symbolic affirmation that his internal turmoil was real.
The cool air cooled his mind and eventually he wasn’t thinking at all. Down the road’s slope he went, faintly hearing the echoes of mountain owls and wrap-squirrels. At one point he saw a wrap-squirrel, its long elastic body wrapped around the body of a starkwood tree, nearly camouflaged save the difference in texture.
For about a mile Mathis walked on, until the bounding trees eventually ceased where a vast ravine opened up below. Connecting the land above the ravine was the Sheifel bridge. It was an iron structure whose bronze coating was largely chipped away from the elements and whose native iron had rusted significantly, leaving the overall impression as a brown drab.
But the view on either side was beautiful. Deep below was a roaring river which connected to the Violet Sea several kilometres away. Dressing the sides of the river were an assortment of bushes and smaller trees in which small, scurrying foxes weaved through with spring-like grace. The recent rain had given the river's flow a slight boost, causing the foxes to be more mindful of where to enter the river if they wanted to cross to the other side. Against the ravine wall, a blind-bear sat meditatively waiting for the luminous salmon to periodically jump out of the water. These salmon provided a small lightshow for anyone who came to the bridge at night to witness it.
That, of course, was nobody.
The blind-bear's head was almost entirely made up of its large mouth. It didn't have eyes, rather nostrils on the top which twitched sporadically when food was approaching. Once a lonely salmon jumped out, the blind-bear's elastic tongue would stretch out and capture the salmon mid-air before quickly returning to the mouth, where the bear's monstrous fangs churned the fish into a peach-coloured mush. The foxes kept their distance from the bear as they knew they'd meet a similar fate if they tried to poke it.
As Mathis approached the bridge, his first instinct was to turn back and return home, but the thought of Percy’s silent wrath and the depressing atmosphere he’d created for himself there prevented him from going through. He decided to feed his curiosity and venture forward to explore the bridge’s structure closely.
He approached the rusty fence which separated the bridge’s construction walkway from the grass and attempted to vault over it. His first attempt was comically unsuccessful. He hadn’t built enough momentum to jump over the fence, yet his feet fluttered as if he had. The result was him banging his knees against the fence, causing him to lose balance and stumble backwards onto the ground.
But he quickly got up and attempted the feat again. This time, he developed enough momentum to bring his pelvis up to the top of the fence, allowing him to step over onto the other side. After a crude landing, he looked closer along the walkway. It was a concrete flooring with iron bars on each side designed to prevent accidental falling. Mathis started off cautiously treading along it in case some sharp wind caught him by surprise. But slowly and surely he became sure of himself and began walking normally along the path. He reached the other side where there was yet another fence. Nothing too interesting, so he turned back.
To his left was the breathtaking view he’d only caught glimpses of on car rides to and fro from out of town. The lifestar was beginning to set, causing the water below to emit a strange mixture of warm purple and the shadows of trees to begin enveloping the air in darkness. The lone blind-bear became further camouflaged in the darkness, its large body melting into the purple ravine walls. The small sparks of salmon below could faintly be seen, appearing for a few seconds with strong luminosity and fading away with soft abruptness. Mathis decided to sit down with the guard rail in front of him and bear witness to the end of the star’s cycle.
But after a few minutes, boredom began to creep in. Mathis got up and began walking back in the direction he came from. As he approached the fence again, an irrational hostility bubbled inside him. He wasn’t willing to jump over this damn thing again.
In a bellicose manner, a sharp, luminous blade shot out of Mathis’s right hand, its hilt embedded inside his inner wrist. He sauntered over with ghoulish eyes and when he finally got close, stabbed the kan-sword into the centre. From there, he directed the sword outwards and made a circular motion until the incandescent trail was linked. He unsummoned the blade and raised his right leg to violently kick the circle out.
As he ducked under to get to the other side, he picked up the disconnected fence piece and chucked it curtly into the ravine below. The faintest echo of a ‘splash’ was never heard, to which he began the uphill descent home.
It was late night by the time he returned to the coffee house and all the internal lights seemed to be off. But Mathis couldn’t risk not knowing if the kitchen or bathroom lights were as well, so he had to enter in the dark to check. As he approached the front door, he noticed something to his left which spawned a headache.
Somebody had smashed a window causing one of the tables to be covered in shards of glass. Mathis hadn’t noticed from afar because of the darkness but when he illuminated a bulb in his hand, he saw the extent of the damage. Parts of the table were chipped away in angular geometric patterns. This was the work of a Rhylean. He stormed through the broken window, increasing his bulb’s intensity to check for any additional damage.
No other windows were damaged, but above the service counter on the chalkboard, someone had added a line onto the 'Hourglass Fog,' cleverly transforming the name to 'Hourglass Fag.'
Mathis’ anger became replaced with a comical disbelief. It was almost too absurd to have been real. He stepped up onto the counter to wipe away the obscenity, subtly smiling. As he stepped down, he realised he'd have to tell Percy about it.
An uneasy feeling came over him as he walked along the gravel behind the coffeehouse to the two cabins separated by a grey car. He approached the one on the right, gulped, and knocked on the door.
“Percy. Someone’s vandalised the shop again.”
As he waited, Mathis thought about how Percy would react to this. There wasn’t a time Percy was angry with him before the coffeehouse was vandalised. How would Percy act if his anger was compounded?
He waited for several more seconds, then an entire minute. He knocked again, confused. “Percy?”
There wasn’t a decibel of sound around him save his own beating heart and soft breath. A few minutes passed with no answer.
“Maybe he went to the police already,” he concluded.
Mathis strolled over to his own cabin on the left, opened the squeaky door he’d promised to lubricate, and turned on his study light, the only source of light in his room. His bed occupied a third of it, the rest filled with his desk and a saturation of books he couldn’t be bothered to read. His phone had finished charging so he looked at the screen for a few seconds, hoping for a notification that anyone had contacted him.
But the more he looked, the more there wasn’t.
He suddenly remembered meeting Nelly a few hours prior and a depressive mood overcame him.
An overwhelming feeling of loneliness began to creep in. He didn’t really have any friends. Percy was angry at him and his current whereabouts were unknown. The majority of people in town weren’t fond of him.
All of a sudden, a stab of monophobia pierced his heart. He felt terrified being alone in the dark woods, that there might be some monster who would harm him in the darkness and no one would come to his protection nor look for him afterwards. The terror creeped from the nerves of Mathis’ heart into his head and eyelids, but he kept his face stone-cold.
He calmly exited the cabin and walked to the nearest tree. He summoned a Kan-axe and made a quick swipe with his right arm. Within moments, the tree was felled with a deep THUMP accompanied with a brief rustle of leaves. The incandescence which slowly faded on the felled tree’s stump faintly illuminated the surrounding area. There were over twenty stumps just like this one next to Mathis’ cabin.
He noticed the peculiar openness within this dense forest and told himself in affirmation,
“I gotta get my shit together.”
Remnants of depressed monologues remained in Mathis’ head as he returned to the inside of his cabin. He thought about how the world would be no worse if he wasn’t around. People didn’t know him. He didn’t know people. People knew other people. They’d care about them. The world would be no worse. But it wouldn’t be better either, which was almost worse than if it was worse. He wouldn’t even be given the dignity of being a force to be removed from the world. He simply had no value.
All this cynical logic tired Mathis’ head so he crashed into bed. The mattress wasn’t so comfortable so he sat himself against the wooden wall. He stared lethargically around the mountain of books in front of him, letting his mind create and morph different shapes from its outlines. After a few minutes observing his own hallucinations, he closed his eyes and fell into a slumber.