To the man on the soapbox shouting in a harsh, oddly jazzy, baritone voice “YOU ARE ALL FORGIVEN”: You don’t know me. I’m not what or who you think I am. You don’t know what socks I like (none during the summer) Or the fact it took me until I was 18 and in Japan to learn how to ride a bike, and 21 before I could whistle. You don’t know that I like holding hands, and to me it is the most intimate thing. Hands. I like holding your hand. Hands are destruction. Hands are salvation. A palm, a couple of phalanges, a voice, that’s all it takes to create a universe, to destroy a universe. The coarseness of a hand from hard work, the soft pillow-like skin of the gentle hand, the one with the gentle touch, the caring touch, the touch of “I LOVE YOU DON’T GO OKAY GO BUT ONLY BECAUSE I WANT WHAT’S BEST FOR YOU… (P.S. YOU’RE CUTE OR WHATEVER OKAY BYE)” Every time I try to talk to you I sound like a dying giraffe. Unintelligent. Boring. Possibly French and unable to comprehend English. It’d be cooler if I could speak French, then I could serenade you with words so transcendentally beautiful that you would never understand (who really understands the French?). I could be as intricate or subtle as I wanted with no fear. Maybe some fear. Life is frightening after all but less so in a romance language. I could see fit to say what was at the top of my heart, the middle, the bottom, even what my stomach had to say because I’m always more agreeable when properly fed (properly being the key word, because if I was overfed I’d be too self conscious to see you and hold your hand). To hold a hand is to contain the power that a hand holds. That is trust. That is vulnerability. So, to the man on the soapbox: What do I have to be forgiven of? Loving? I will decide when I am forgiven.
Bittersweet Marzipan
Friday, November 28, 2014
I Like Holding Your Hand or Whatever
((Since this is spoken word, there's really no correct way to write this out...))
Friday, October 4, 2013
CAMIKA PT 1
(I feel like I need to preface that the entire idea for this came out of a joke about a bromance between my friend Cameron and I)
"I'm well aware that you're captain of this airship. But what I asked you was what exactly this ship does, not who you are. Those are two very different questions, you see. I want to know if there's any precious cargo here or if you're a war ship. And I would prefer if you put down your pistol, it's not very polite to point that at someone unless you intend to shoot."
"I'm well aware that you're captain of this airship. But what I asked you was what exactly this ship does, not who you are. Those are two very different questions, you see. I want to know if there's any precious cargo here or if you're a war ship. And I would prefer if you put down your pistol, it's not very polite to point that at someone unless you intend to shoot."
Up
high in the sky through the nimbus clouds sailed the Airship IDA, led by the fearless adventurer Captain Cameron who, at
that very moment, was having quite a queer yet strangely thrilling start of a
conversation with a mysterious man in his Captain's Quarters. Naturally he had
pulled out his third favorite pistol (it was the quickest and easiest to handle
on the fly) he so sweetly named Persephone
in case this were a simple crook, but he could now tell this man was anything
but. He oozed mystery and intrigue even though so far Captain Cameron had only
seen his backside. Even from behind this man captured Cameron’s curiosity. He
uncocked the pistol and placed it in the gun holster on his thigh.
"Alright,
you got me. I don't intend to shoot." Cameron's voice was childish, light,
happy. He sounded nonchalant, and his face had the brightness of a youth in a
store full of sweets. His appearance easily supported his boyish spirit. He was
a sinewy gentleman who wore a crisp white collared shirt, a ruby cravat he
tucked into his golden paisley vest, and his dark blue trousers with various
belts slung around that had his three favorite pistols attached via holsters
strung through the belts. His hair, wavy and black, was kept short and he came
across not like any other captain with his boyish grin and overall energetic
demeanor. His clothing was loud, he looked much too young to be in charge
of anything. And yet those who knew of the Airship
IDA, as few as those people might be, knew not to cross the crew’s path.
"Do
you feel like answering my question?” The mysterious man nagged, keeping his
back to the Captain. “Because that would be pretty nice."
"I'll
think about really hard. Promise."
"I'll
hold you to that."
"Oh
I'm sure you will."
"I
do hope you don't plan on taking a tea break before you answer, I'm afraid I
couldn't stay for that."
"Wouldn't
dream of it. Tea time's so dull, always with the old people talking about back
in their day."
"Well
when you put it that way."
"What
way? I'm quite blind to the powers of my persuasion so I'd like to know what
works. Maybe if you’d turn around, that would help. Not to say your backside
isn't attractive—because it is—but I'd much prefer to meet you face to
face."
The
mysterious figure slowly turned around but not because he was taking his time.
It was more like Cameron was watching a dream where time flowed differently.
Like this moment was important. Behind the mysterious man the lion-maned sun
blazed brightly through the windows that made up an entire wall of the
quarters, illuminating his figure, giving him a rare celestial presence one
could only glimpse by staring at a painting of an angel or from an encounter
with a supernatural being. He had a strong figure, a bit larger than Captain
Cameron’s, and his clothes were very dark, black trousers with a collared
double-breasted vest and a collared shirt that had a peculiar white floral
print. A downy soft gray scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck and shoulders.
He moved forward allowing Captain Cameron to view his face. His hair was messy
and black, his eyelashes long, and simply put he was a beautiful man. Captain
Cameron recognized the mysterious man from wanted posters. It was the Phantom Thief,
Mika.
"Phantom
Thief, the Mysterious Mika." Cameron nodded towards the darkly clad thief.
"I'm Captain Cameron of the Airship IDA, Conquistadores of the Sky."
Mika
ran a hand through his thick hair, taking a moment to look over Cameron. He let
out a soft laugh. "Conquistadores of the Sky. An adventurer's
airship?"
"Yes."
"Perfect."
"Perfect?"
Cameron was curious. Before he could question Mika, his first mate barged
through his door.
"Captain!"
First Mate Tiffy sternly exclaimed. She always seemed rather stern to the
Captain, which made her the perfect First Mate. "There's another airship
heading towards us."
Tiffy
stood right at six foot one inch, slightly taller than either man, and her
boots gave her at least an extra inch of height. It made her a little
intimidating when combined with her strawberry hair and no-nonsense expression.
She wore a light green dress that fell to the back of her knees in the back and
a few inches higher up in the front, a leather bodice over it and black
leggings underneath. On either wrist she had leather bracelets and a pastel
blue tattoo ran from her left hand all the way up to her neck, where a compass
on a chain hung loosely. A staff in a holster was slung around her back.
"Tiffy,"
the Captain started, "that's fine and good but I have a special guest."
Tiffy
looked over at Mika and rolled her eyes, apparently unimpressed. "Captain,
I don't care what goes on in your personal life. What matters is the ship."
"Well
that’s rude, Tiffy."
"The
ship," She repeated.
"I
think you should apologize."
"Ship,"
She said once more with more emphasis.
"Apologize,"
Cameron chided.
“To
you or him?” Tiffy asked.
“To
him,” Cameron said.
“No
thanks, more important things to do. Like get you to listen about the ship.”
"Sky
Pirate Edweird," Mika interjected, his head snapping around to the window
wall. The next thing Cameron knew Mika was in the air flying towards him,
landing on top of the Captain with an oomph, Captain Cameron's face burying
deep in Mika's chest as he held him down.
Cameron’s
first thought was "he sure does smell good," and his second was
"wait, what's going on?" which was followed up with the question of
whether or not Cameron smelt good, as he could not recall a single occasion
where he had ever confirmed what his smell was. Then came the crash, and
Tiffy's worried shouting thinly veiled as frustration, wondering if the Captain
was okay. Cameron could feel the gusts of air in his quarters and feared the worst.
He stared at the gaping hole that was once his favorite wall over Mika’s
shoulder.
"What
in the world?" Cameron's face fell in a cocktail of frustration, disgust,
contempt and shock. That would be a pain and a half to fix and he didn't want
to have to use the money he had been saving up for a chocolate strawberry bush.
The ship wouldn't appreciate the damage much, either. In fact she would be
downright pissed.
Mika
grabbed the Captain's face with his hands and forced it close to his own.
"Get your crew to attack," he hoarsely instructed the Captain over
the rushing air. The captain stared into Mika's eyes. They were like two black
holes, voids that would lead him to obliteration if he were to fall in. Yet he
was okay with it. He welcomed it. It was thrilling, and it made his pulse jump.
The
Captain's silly grin spread across his face. "Tiffy!" He shouted.
"I’m fine! Fetch me my trench coat. We have Sky Pirates to fight."
Tiffy,
as stoic and solid as when she had come in, curtly nodded, shouting “Got it!”
as loudly as she could. She swiftly exited the room to instruct the crew
members to prepare for the retaliation.
Mika
returned the Captain's smile. "Captain Cameron," he teased,
"you're adorable when you get excited. I appreciate that quality in
person. Things like this must be met head on."
Captain
Cameron blushed. "No time for that now, Phantom Thief Mika. First we
fight. Then I get an explanation. After that… well, who knows how I'll be
feeling by that point."
"I
should probably get off of you then." Mika stood up and extended an arm to
Cameron. "I hope you enjoy adventure, Captain. This might be a
doozy."
Captain
Cameron accepted Mika's hand and was hoisted up. A quick glance behind him
revealed Tiffy standing in the door frame holding his favorite purpureus
colored trench coat.
"I
am adventure incarnate," Cameron boldly stated. He held up his arm behind
him and caught the trench coat as Tiffy tossed it to him, slipping it on.
"Now let's see what we can do about those Sky Pirates."
"I
assume your ship has magic if you're adventurers."
"Of
course we use magic on this ship. The ship is
magic," Cameron scoffed as Mika followed him outside into the battlefield
of the ship's deck. On the starboard side, hovering beside them was the ship of
the dreaded Sky Pirate Edweird. It was a massive thing, covered in magical
sigils and large propellers, crimson sails with gears shaped together like
skulls and an angel with horns on the bow of the ship. The cannons lining the
side of Edweird’s were aimed right at the Airship IDA threateningly. Cameron knew
what was coming. A boom shook the
skies, a cannonball ripping through the air right for the Airship IDA.
Mika
pointed at the sigils covering Edweird’s ship. "Do you have protection
spells like that? I didn’t get a good look at your ship before I boarded."
Mika pulled out a pair of gloves, slipping them on.
"About
that,” Cameron laughed nervously. “We'd have to talk to the ship first."
"Hold
that thought." Mika flagged down Tiffy and shouted “Toss me in the air!”
With
a run and a jump he landed in Tiffy's cupped hands. She shot him into the air,
right at the cannonball which he met with an open palm. Together they froze
midair, again to Cameron like a dream, followed shortly thereafter with the
cannonball exploding, but no shockwave hitting the Airship IDA. Mika landed
back on the deck with a tiny frog in his palm. Cameron was mesmerized.
"Bravo!
That was fantastic! Wasn't that fantastic, Tiffy?" Cameron turned to his
First Mate expecting the same excitement and awe. He was met with apathy.
"Simple
magic," she responded, pulling out the pole from the case on her back. It
shined with the brightness of the sun and when the light died down it was a
halberd with a crescent-shaped blade. "Meet with IDA, we can handle
this."
"She
won't be too happy," the Captain responded. "She hates being bothered
and she's already been damaged."
"Which
is why you'll deal with her and not me."
Mika
ran by Tiffy and tossed her the frog. "A present," he said, and
grabbed Cameron by the hand. "Defense spells, lead the way."
"Farewell,
Tiffy! Do me proud!"
They
headed for the ship leaving behind a bewildered Tiffy with a frog. She stuck it
on her shoulder and looked up at Edweird's pirate air ship, another cannonball
headed their way, and then another and another. Tiffy took a fighting stance
with her blade pointed at Edweird’s ship.
"I
am First Mate Tiffalufigous Gardenia de La Fraises of the Conquistadores of the
Sky," she shouted up at the pirate ship. "Codename: Impaler of the
Moon!"
Her
halberd sprouted up into the sky, through a cannonball, forcing it to erupt in
a shower of sparks and catching many of the other cannonballs fired in the
explosion.
Further
and further they went into the heart of the Airship IDA, Captain Cameron
leading the way down candle lit hallways. It became harder to breath the
further they went. Between that and the running Cameron could tell Mika was
having a difficult time, but Cameron was used to surviving with little oxygen
up in the sky.
“What
were you saying about asking the ship?” Mika inquired through heavy breathing.
“Oh,
that. IDA’s sentient and uses an avatar to speak to us.”
“You
don’t say.”
“I
do say.”
Mika
shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t paint magic circles
on the ship itself, to at least give it some basic protection.”
Cameron
sighed. “IDA’s a little vain. She doesn’t want things painted on her. I suppose
she expects us to stay out of trouble.”
“But
you’re adventurers.”
“It’s
really inconvenient, I know.”
Mika
stopped Cameron. "This is taking too long. Where is it exactly we’re
headed?"
"It's
hard to tell. Sometimes IDA likes to move around the passages," Cameron
responded.
Mika
leaned against a wooden wall, taking deep breaths. Cameron wasn’t sure if his
Phantom Thief could continue on or not. The adrenaline in Cameron’s veins was
quickly dying down. He wished he knew how much longer it would take but knowing
IDA she had probably sensed Cameron coming and made the route all the longer.
He peered down the low-lit hallway, then at Mika.
“It’s
curving, that’s all I know. She’s probably at the center. At least it isn’t a
maze this time.” Cameron peered back at the path forward. For some reason there
was a mountain goat looking back at him. Cameron cocked his head. “Hello.”
“Hello?”
Mika responded, confused at first. “Oh, hello!” he then exclaimed. He ran past
Cameron to the goat. The goat darted through a wall, leaving no trace.
“What
was that?” Cameron asked, scratching his head.
“One
of many guides. It’s okay, it’s fine. It’s a thing of mine. Just need to follow
it.” Mika pulled out a small white jar of paint from a pouch on his belt,
drawing a magic circle on the wall, a matching one on his hand. "Hold on
to me," he instructed. Cameron cheerfully obeyed, grabbing Mika's other
hand. Together they walked through the wall, found the goat and followed it
through another wall, and then another one and another until they found
themselves in a circular room covered in carefully raked sand. In the center
was an enormous tree, too enormous to possibly fit into and survive on an airship.
Yet there it was.
"She
doesn't look happy," Cameron groaned.
The
Phantom Thief squeezed Cameron's hand. "The tree? How can you tell?"
"The
fruit isn't glowing. See, it's all... normal looking."
"Oh,
yes, because it's not mystical enough without the glowing fruit." Mika let
go of Cameron's hand, examining the room. "Where is it you activate the
protection magic?"
"Right
over here," came a woman's voice in response, echoing with something
otherworldly. Mika's attention was drawn back to the base of the tree. There
before the two men was an Amazonian woman in red robes with golden necklaces
adorning her neck. Her hair was shoulder-length and auburn, her eyes a piercing
emerald color surpassing the beauty of her gold jewelry.
"Greetings,
IDA. Hope you're well." Cameron tried to express as much sincerity as he
could in his voice, however IDA scared the living daylights out of him and so
his voice more shaky and boisterous than he meant it to be. Knowing her his
whole life only made his fear of her worse.
Mika
inhaled. sharply "Your ship really is sentient. That's beautiful."
IDA
shot a dirty look to Mika. "Egad," she spat, "I know what you are, thief. Of course they’re
after you." She shot a slightly less dirty but much more frightening look
at Cameron. "Where is Erika? I would much prefer to speak with her."
"Well
when someone dies twice you tend to feel obliged to give them time off,"
Captain Cameron explained, making large gestures with his hands due to nerves.
"Who's
Erika?" Mika asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Our
letter carrier slash doctor," he whispered back.
"You
don’t just let your ship’s doctor leave. That was a bad idea. I hope you
realize this."
"Oh
hush." He focused on IDA once again. "I do believe she's flying on
the paper birds off the coast of the Kingdom of Dandel."
"No,
no," interjected Mika, shaking his head. "The Kingdom of Dandel was
wiped out months ago by a bad land fertilization spell. The whole sub-continent
of Ion was basically destroyed. Tragic, really. There were some jewels there I
wanted."
"You
don't say?" Cameron had switched his attention back to Mika now, genuinely
curious as to the events that led to the downfall of the kingdom. Dandel had
been his second favorite continent after all and he was genuinely disappointed
at its fall.
"I
do say. Word has it Edweird's behind it."
"Well
perhaps Erika's gone to see the Fist of Michelangelo."
Mika
lit up. "Let me give you a detailed description, it's the most beautiful
piece of weaponry made for war. I stole it for the museum, actually."
With
a great groan that reverberated through the sand-filled room, IDA reeled the
focus of the conversation back to her. "You two are useless, I'll check on
things myself." She furiously shook her head, grabbing at the cloth of her
robes, removing them. Beneath her robes was a cage—in fact, the majority of her
body was a cage with little butterflies flying around. She reached inside
herself and removed one of these butterflies, bringing it up to her face so she
could gaze at it whilst it rested gently on her fingertip. She furrowed her
brow.
"She's
divining, isn't she?" Mika asked. He stared intently at IDA now, so
focused, like he was etching the scene into his brain. "Curious. I wonder
what she sees."
IDA
placed the butterfly back inside the cage and draped her robes back over
herself. She gave a frustrated sigh—sighs and groans were her favorite.
"You've let my ship get damaged, Cameron. And now pirates have boarded.
Fix this."
"Can't
you at least assist?" Cameron pleaded. "I beseech you!"
"Do
you even know what that words means?" IDA shot back. Cameron didn't
respond, and she laughed. "Get rid of the pirates. Give them the thief! If
I have to I will steer the ship into the great ocean of rocks and kill you all
out of spite, just to rid myself of this infestation. Then I’ll find a new crew."
“If
you activate your protection spells the entire thing will be quicker,” Cameron
hurriedly explained. IDA simply waved him off.
“Deal
with it yourself. Send Erika next time, I much prefer her company over yours.” IDA
vanished back into the confines of her tree.
Cameron
pouted; that had most definitely not gone the way he was hoping. Feeling a
little defeated he turned to talk to Mika, but he wasn't where he had left him.
After a frantic search Cameron found him crouching on the ground drawing a
magic circle. Alarmed, Cameron dragged him up.
"Don't
do that!" He huffed as he pulled the thief up.
"It'll
help if we're in a pinch." He held up his hand with the white magic circle
on it. "Let's go topside again. Do any of your guns—"
"Yes,
they utilize magic."
“How
much damage can they cause?”
“Fair
amount.” Cameron thought about the sigils on Edweird’s ship. Now, Cameron was
no expert on magic—a mysterious tall man named Alan had made Cameron’s guns for
him and carved the magic symbols on them—but he figured the sigils on Edweird’s
ship most likely protected it from anything petty like basic cannon fire and
simple long-range magic. “Hold on now, I don’t think they’re strong enough to
take down a ship! I’m confident, but not that confident.”
"Don’t
worry about it. Let's go."
"Wait,"
Cameron said grabbing Mika's shoulder. "Why are they after you?"
Slowly
Mika came to look at Cameron, and once again Cameron noticed Mika's eyes. They
looked drowsy, large and half-closed and they retained that mysterious void
that Cameron knew would suck him in. Well maybe it already had, Cameron
thought, judging by the current state of affairs. Mika remained silent, tilting
his head, staring into Cameron's very soul. Cameron shivered.
"Alright,"
Cameron said. "Let's go."
Up
on the Deck the battle had gotten more intense. There were men in strange suits
that covered their bodies, gears and tubes attached here and there. Every time
they moved steam billowed and hissed from their joints. Cameron assumed they
must have been the pirates.
Tiffy,
with her halberd, had managed to hold most of them at bay, cutting open the
suits to reveal their emptiness. A shudder ran through Cameron’s spine. Were
ghosts inhabiting the suits? Was it magic? Cameron looked around the deck.
There were maybe thirty pirates on board, and Cameron had only a half as many
men on the ship. How many were still living he wasn’t entirely sure, though,
the bodies of a dozen of his men sprawled on the deck. Cameron could feel his
hands tremble out of fear, anger, hatred. His shaking hand reached for his
third favorite pistol, Persephone. He would make them all pay.
Mika's
hand grabbed Cameron’s. Instantly the shaking stopped as he felt a calm rush
through him. Mika let go of his hand. Cameron knew he had at least five manning
the ship’s cannons, firing back at Edweird, including Tiffy’s husband. They
were safe at least.
"Kill
them all. Be swift, don't hesitate," came Mika’s words of advice.
Cameron
nodded, pulled out Persephone and took aim. Lines of light crawled up his arm
and little wings formed behind him. "Be swift, Persephone." He pulled
the trigger and from the barrel shot seven bullets made of light, each one
hitting the semi-mechanical, magical pirates. Four of them burned up in the
light, the remaining three were only pierced. They changed targets, focusing on
the Captain. Steam bellowed from where they had been shot, creating a sort of
eerie howling like the wind would make on a particularly terrible night. Tiffy
took that time to decapitate them all while they weren't paying attention to
her. They fell, unable to get back up. Mika waved at her.
"You
see, she has the gist of things without needing an explanation." Mika
sounded terribly impressed with her. He moved his fingers like he was trying to
solve a problem in his head.
"How
many of the men are down?" Cameron asked, losing more and more of his grin.
He bent down to examine one of the fallen men. He was dead, his neck snapped.
If he had been a different man, a weaker one, he would have vomited.
"More
than I'd care to admit, Captain." Tiffy replied. She gave the deck a quick
once-over to make sure there weren't any more living pirates. There were, and
the frog on Tiffy's shoulder croaked out the exact number of pirates remaining;
Fifteen. Fewer than Cameron had thought. They made up for the fewer numbers
with speed.
They
were surrounded. Cameron wasn't sure how it had happened so quickly, but the
fifteen semi-mechanical magic pirates had encircled them and each brandished a pistol
he assumed was just as magical as each semi-mechanical pirate. Persephone was
only good for those seven shots either fired individually or together and the
spare bullets were in his cabin. Ophelia, his second favorite pistol, wasn't
meant for this kind of combat and his absolute favorite gun, Desdemona, was for
very rare circumstances and had a ten percent chance of killing Cameron.
Cameron wasn't feeling especially lucky. He reached for her anyway. A pirate
shot at Cameron, grazing his left arm. He hissed in pain, clutching the wound.
It was icy to the touch, the cold slowly traveling through his limb.
"No
sudden moves. Stupid of me to forget."
"What
are we to do, Captain Cameron?" Tiffy asked, holding tightly to her
halberd.
"We'll
be fine," Mika answered for Cameron. "I can tell."
"How?"
Tiffy responded, concern seeping through her voice. "How can you be so
sure? Can you even fight?"
"A
paper bird told me," Mika said. For a brief moment Cameron was sure he saw
a little butterfly like the one IDA had in her cage.
With
a whistle and a call of "Geronimo!" tiny paper birds ripped through
the backs of several of the Pirates, tearing them in half, leaving the others
distracted long enough for Tiffy to mow down four with her halberd.
“Suckers,”
Tiffy muttered, her usual strength returning to her voice.
Mika
vanished from Cameron's side, reappearing behind another pirate, knife
brandished, stabbing it swiftly in the back and ripping it open. The pirate
collapsed. Amidst the chaos, shots were fired and another bullet hit Cameron.
He wasn't sure where, the adrenaline pumping through his veins once again, the
heat of his body masking the icy effects of the magic bullet. He would deal
with it later. If he had the time.
From
out of the smoke popped Erika wearing her goggles and riding on the back of an
enormous paper bird. She was an angelic sight, that one, in her green blouse
with poufy sleeves and blue stripes, her brown corset, a gear pinned proudly to
it, and her aviation pants. Slung around her shoulder
"Captain,
what have you gone and done without me? I adore
fighting pirates, you know that! I'm an amazing fighter!" Erika shouted
over the winds, landing on deck as Tiffy impaled the final pirate. "And
who's the guy in black? He seems mysterious. I already like him."
“He
has his moments,” Tiffy grunted in response to Erika, stabbing a pirate on the
ground several times.
"Not
now Erika," Cameron said. From behind he felt Mika place a hand on his
side, right where his latest bullet wound was. Cameron could barely feel the
hand there his side was so numb, but as a bonus he could also barely feel the
icy cold make its way into his body from the wound.
"Pish
posh. There's always time," Mika said airily, removing his hand and
looking at the blood. "Tiffy, I noticed you have a few wounds, too. Don't
try to hide them from me."
Tiffy
scoffed, lightly tracing a graze on her leg.
“Erika,
I fear it must be up to us to take down Edweird,” Mika informed the
doctor-slash-letter carrier.
"So
fearless. Almost as fearless as me." Erika smoothed out her pants due to
habit, something Cameron had noticed her do often when she was excited.
"He's
kidding. You're kidding." Cameron inhaled sharply. "You can't take
down his ship."
"We
just need to agitate him enough to use a bigger cannon on us. So my spell can
activate," Mika replied.
Cameron
felt himself getting lightheaded and was glad Mika was holding him in place.
His last comment was a little confusing, though, and he wasn't sure if he had
heard Mika correctly. Surely he had to be jesting; IDA was angry enough with
the current damage. They had to escape now to avoid more.
"Pardon?"
Cameron stuttered out. "More damage? You want us to take more?"
"I
didn’t say that," Mika explained calmly. "Your pistol, Ophelia. I
touched it, I know what it does. If Erika takes you up on her paper bird, will
you be strong enough to shoot at Edweird's Airship?"
"Yes,"
Cameron lied. "How did you…?"
"I'm
a thief. I can do things." Mika smiled. "Your shot will force him to
retaliate with something stronger. It'll activate my spell."
Mika
was so smart, so mysterious, Cameron thought. There was always something going
on in his mind that Cameron just couldn't perceive. He liked that. He hobbled
out of Mika's grasp and to Erika and the paper bird she had been riding. He
grabbed on to the bird; it felt so thin, a little brittle. Not at all like it
could support his weight.
"Captain,"
Tiffy started, trailing off. Cameron could see it in her eyes, that she was
afraid Cameron was too seriously injured. She was right. The wound was a lot
deeper than he had first thought. Her frog croaked, as if trying to help her
find the right words. "You ridiculous frog. You're too cute." She let
out a soft laugh. Those were rare, coming from her. "Remember, Captain
Cameron Greenfield of the Airship IDA, leader of the Conquistadores of the Sky.
You are a conqueror. Don’t come back unless you win."
Mika
stepped up to Cameron, holding his soft gray scarf from around his neck. He
tied it around Cameron's waist, putting pressure on the wound. "And don't
die. I like this scarf and want it back. If you die, well, I don't want the
scent of death on my nice things. I might cry."
Captain
Cameron gave a hearty, youthful laugh, the movement of which shot pain through
his side. "Come, Doctor Erika Flywright. Edweird's firing more
cannons."
"What
my husband and his men don’t get, I’ll take care of," Tiffy vowed, taking
her stance.
Cameron
grinned wickedly. He and Erika got on the paper bird and took off, the rush,
combined with the pain of his wounds, churning Cameron’s insides. They avoided
cannonballs left and right, all the while Tiffy's trusty Impaler of the Sky,
the men commanding IDA’s cannons and Mika's hand-blocking magic techniques
exploded them before they could reach the ship, lighting up the sky with
flowers made of smoke and sparks. Erika got the paper bird to stop once they
were close enough to the airship.
"Look
to me for strength, Captain!" Erika said emphatically, lifting up the
goggles from her eyes so she could get a good luck at her Captain. "Do us
proud!"
Cameron
stood on the back of the paper bird; He clenched his teeth, his side hurt so badly.
He pulled out the long-handled pistol Ophelia. Lines etched in the gun shone
brightly, crawling onto his arm. Two little angel wings formed on his back.
"Ophelia,
punish the Sky Pirate Edweird!" Cameron sang out. He pulled the trigger.
All went quiet, calm; and then a barrel of amber-colored light shot out.
Several propellers on the right side of Edweird’s airship were encased in solid
amber. In moments the amber cracked and shattered, taking the propellers with
it. The large double-barreled cannon mounted on the center of Edweird's airship
began emitting an eerie light. Cameron collapsed on the back of the paper bird.
"Take us home, Erika," he coughed out.
The
next thing Cameron remembered he was back on IDA being held up by Mika. He
looked at his face, searching for some sort of answer as to what was going to
happen now.
"You
brilliant man," Mika said excitedly. "Mister Adventure Incarnate,
Mister My-Guns-Can’t-Damage-That-Ship. Those sigils couldn’t defend against
something like that. I think I may love
you."
"He's
just happy you rescued him without any questions asked. Highly irresponsible,
Captain," Tiffy chimed in.
"She's
caught me. I love you for all of the wrong reasons, of course."
"I'll
accept that love anyway," Cameron chuckled. "But only if we make it
out of this alive."
"You
need to have more faith," Erika said. "I believe in Mika."
"Let's
watch what happens." Mika pointed to the glowing barrels of the main cannon
on Edweird's airship. There was a rumble in the sky, a warning, a reddening of
the world, before a large blast shot forth towards IDA. In Cameron's mind time
slowed down, an occurrence that had been happening with more and more frequency
that day. In a matter of seconds the blast would hit the ship, but those
seconds were hours to the Captain. The light from the blast got brighter,
hotter, deadlier. If he were to die right there, he would die happy knowing he
had had a great adventure.
And
then it was gone. All of it. The clouds of smoke and ash, the blast, Edweird's
ship, no longer in front of them. Cameron looked around, confused.
"What
in the world?" Cameron nearly fell down, but Mika kept him up. The girls
shouted and danced around, relieved and excited that Mika's plan had actually
worked. "What did you do?"
"Magic
spell: Scapegoat." Mika's answer came with a light little laugh.
"Edweird just blew up a very large inflatable goat, and now we're too far
away for him to be able to catch up with us. It's quite fantastic, really.
It'll only work when certain kinds of deadly attacks are coming near, so we had
to egg on Edweird. I've never tried the spell before, I'm so glad it
worked."
Mika
gently put Cameron down on the ground and he sat down with him. Cameron laughed
between deep gasps of breath. He was impressed that he hadn't died. Good on
himself. He did well, jolly well. But there was still something he needed
answered.
"I
can be stupid and jump into these things impulsively," Cameron began.
"I never had a reason to help—other than your pretty face, of
course." He let out a painful laugh. "But this mission cost the lives
of several of my men. You owe me a great deal. Why was Edweird after you?"
Mika
looked on at the injured crew members who had survived the fight as they moved
the bodies of the dead, watched as Doctor Erika patched up Tiffany's injured
leg. It looked like several bullets had grazed it, and there were scratches on
her back as well.
"I
stole one of his powers," Mika finally said. "I can do that, you
know. Steal and borrow them. I borrowed IDA's butterfly. Don't worry, it didn't
affect her,” Mika assured Cameron. “I’d have had to touch her to steal it. You
deserve to know how I do it, after all. Edweird, though. I managed to get
close.”
"How
did you even get on his ship?"
"He's
a pirate. He stole me. I'm quite rare, you know. I'm a descendant of... well, I’m
sorry but I don’t owe you that much." Mika looked Cameron in the eyes now
and Cameron noticed that Mika's left eye was now a soft white. "The idiot
took me on his ship. He's really full of himself, you see. He really thought he
could contain me. I took his special eye and escaped on a little floating
island attached to his ship, found yours, he followed. You know the rest."
"I
hope the eye was worth all the trouble," Cameron said with a raise of his
brows.
"How
so?"
"I
don't care if you're wanted or not. We're short staffed now. You confessed your
love. I accepted it. You're obliged to stay here. You’re mine."
“You
can’t own someone.”
“You
own me now as well. Our fates are intertwined, I’m sure of it.”
Mika
ran a hand through his thick hair. He looked like he was thinking deeply.
"I'll be the death of you."
"I'm
still alive, aren't I?"
"You
make a strong case. I'll think about it." Mika's eye returned to their normal
blackness and he gave the captain a once over. It sent a tingle through
Cameron's spine. "I knew you were the right person to help. The aura of
IDA drew me in."
"Yeah,
she does that to some people." Cameron tapped the deck of the Airship.
"What does that eye do exactly?"
"It's
useful."
"Uh-huh."
Cameron patted Mika's shoulder. "Had enough time to think?"
"Yes,"
Mika replied. He stared out at the sunset turning the sky hues of reds and
purples. "I think I'll stay for a bit. I don’t like to let my possessions
out of my sight."
"Funny,
I feel the same."
The
two stared at the sunset, for there is nothing quite as beautiful as a sunset
while on an airship. Cameron lightly pushed Mika and they laughed, basking in the
fading sun, soaking up the moment of peace. Cameron felt something well up
inside of him, some sort of completeness. A lot of work needed to be done to
the Airship IDA, but he felt fresh. This was the start of something grand. This
was the start of a new life. This was the life of a conquistador.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Sufjan Essay
I
was listening to music in my car the other day. This isn’t some new revelation;
most people know I love listening to music in my car. In fact, I almost can’t
drive unless I have my music—it’s as important to me as having the keys or
turning on the headlights when it’s dark. I have music for the spring, music
for a summer day, and even music for the night. And then I have the music that
is a religious experience.
The way I tear up when I listen to
Sufjan Stevens isn’t natural. It is, after all, just music. Right? False. Music
is one of any number of things that can be sacred to a person, in a similar way
scriptures are sacred to the religious (not to sound sacrilegious, as I myself
and very religious), because of the message it contains, the way it makes your
soul swell up. Not to say that there aren’t any Christian undertones to the
work of Sufjan (there’s the mention of ‘The Great I Am” in Decatur, or the
blatant religious activities mentioned in Casimir Pulaski Day), but he’s not
Christian rock and there’s something about his lyrics that makes me cry when I
listen to him. He’s the only friend I need as I speed down the highway and
ponder, contemplate, pray, over my life and where I’m going, what I’m doing.
It’s the intimacy of the moment, the
sincerity in which he sings those words, those personal stories. It’s not
everyone who can do that and not sound unbearably awkward or whiny. Instead you
can relate, it causes you to think. It’s also something you can’t share with
others, no matter how badly you want to—part of it is fear that anyone else who
listens won’t find it sacred as you do, and, instead, make fun of it. The other
part is that no one will ever experience something the same exact way that you
do. But you can relate, attempt to empathize in our own perfectly imperfect
human ways. And although when we listen oh so carefully, and we believe “this
guy knows me, he really knows me. How is he in my head?” the painful truth is
that he doesn’t, he isn’t, but the comforting thought is that we are able to
relate somehow. The beauty of art is that you can take that special something
created out of an emotion, a situation, and apply it to yourself. That’s how
beautiful things should be, how they should work on a proper level.
When Sufjan sings “I made a lot of
mistakes, all things know/go/grow,” he’s made mistakes different than mine. In
too much he muses “If I was a different man… maybe I talk too much, maybe I
talk too fast,” I’m reminded of my own self musings. What if there were nine of
me, so I could live nine lives and do all that I wanted to do? Act, bake,
write, be an astronaut, a secret lover. When in Futile Devices he
heartbreakingly reflects about his deep relationship with his friend who is
like a brother, something he can’t put into words without feeling dumb, he’s
not singing about my friendship, but I can relate, and learn, and have a
catharsis and use his perfectly imperfect futile words to describe my own
story, to catch the feeling of my life. It’s because of this that his music is
sacred, even if that might sound dumb. But what can I do? Words are, after all,
futile devices. Yet I make do, and do just fine. As futile as words might be,
at least they still connect.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
See, I can be classy too
The setting was the downstairs living room, a
place that he had rarely gone down to since he had been home for the sole
reason that he enjoyed far too much sitting in the large comfy armchair that
his mother had so thoughtfully placed in his room. But this evening called for
a larger space than his room. This evening called for a large television. This
evening was to be classy, in a terribly hipster way.
Dressed in a tank top he didn't fill in quite
right and a pair of basketball shorts, he cradled a fancy glass filled with
sparkling cider in his dominant hand and rested his legs on the couch with the
rest of his body. In his other hand he picked up the remote that lay next to
his fancy chocolate, and pressed play on the
classic film that would, on this evening, be his getaway, his best friend, his
supposed one and only. But just for that night, just for those few hours.
This evening, he was 'classy.'
Monday, May 27, 2013
Monday Night Chinese v5 Part 5: An Afterthought
Part 05: An Afterthought
It
had been quite some time since the incident with Raphael, and every now and
again Levi, Alice and Blue would discuss those events, sometimes even being
kind enough to invite LeRose. They would talk of how No One escaped from Astoria,
where his other minions, if Raphael wasn’t the only one, might be and when, if
ever, they would show up once again in the Afterlife. Blue was of the opinion
that No One would focus on the two planes of existence that weren’t filled with
able bodied spirits who knew what to look for now (the Dreamscape and the
living world), but Alice was uneasy all the same. She spent more time after
that out in the living world fighting and tracking down demons to better her
combat skills and from time to time Levi and other Listeners such as Uriel
would accompany her or Laura to track down the missing Afterlife workers. A few
had been found, but many, such as Grimshaw, were still missing.
Levi
worked as peacefully as he could now that he had grown slightly more paranoid
of his own surroundings. He spent more and more of his time time cooped up in
his restaurant, thinking.
On
one particular occasion that Levi found perfectly appropriate to stay in his
favorite booth (third from the front on the left side, it had the best feng
shui), Blue had decided to pop in for a chat. He slid in opposite Levi, beaming
with cheer. Levi said nothing for a while; he only stared at his zodiac
calendar placemat. Blue took the initiative and spoke first.
“You still haven’t
told me who cooks for the restaurant,” He said playfully, resting his arms on
the sturdy table. Levi didn’t respond. Instead, he folded his arms and stroked
his chin. Blue didn’t stop smiling, not even once. “You know, I heard Alice say
she’d be by later. I think there’s someone else looking for you, too.”
Alice’s previously
frequent visits had occurred less and less in the year and a half since the
event, due in part to her increasing trips into the living world. Levi wouldn’t
admit it, but it affected him not having her around and he never enjoyed the
few and far between trips he would take with her into the living world to
search for the still missing employees. Somehow they were always a little
painful, and never fun. He had tried filling the void of her friendship with
his love of the idea of Laura, but after two dates their relationship hadn’t
taken off, but they remained friendlier than they had been before. She, along
with Blue, would stop by the Chinese restaurant to check up on the ever
withdrawing Levi and make sure he got out at least once in a while.
“Are you thinking
about Kristjan?” Blue’s voice cracked through Levi’s thoughts, and he finally
glanced up at the young man.
“Yes. What
happened to him was something that should have been prevented. I didn’t even want
to be involved with any of this.” Levi stopped stroking his chin, leaving his
hands resting on the table, clenching and unclenching them periodically. “I
couldn’t fix him. I wonder if Merrill was really able to stop his pain.”
“I really dig your British accent, you know
that? You should never have hid it,” Blue leaned further in, apparently trying
very hard to invade Levi’s bubble.
“I sort of forgot
it had even existed to begin with. Once you’ve been dead as long as I have, you
start to forget who you were in your past life.” Levi tapped on the table. Blue
had a peculiar look of confusion and disturbance that made his face wrinkle,
creating aged lines of experience his features were too young to have. He may
have been dead, but mentally he was still growing and maturing.
The door to the
restaurant opened and LeRose, the model thin female Reaper with the most
delightfully disturbing ruby hair stepped in. Everything about her demanded the
attention of the boys in the room, from her snarling face to her clothing
choice of Daisy Dukes and a dark tank top. Behind her in the hallway was a
giant black blob with four spindly legs popping out. It was covered with
hundreds of beady green eyes that were looking at everything it could, and
every time one of the eyes would blink it secreted a noxious steam. There were
chains wrapped around it and Charles, tall and thin with nicely parted sandy
hair and clothes equally as nice and appropriate for the workplace, held on to
one of those chains that secured the demon, preventing it from running amok. He
looked bitterly uncomfortable.
“What is that?” Blue asked curiously. Levi could
see the ‘this is so totally awesome’ look on Blue’s face take over.
“Order up! We’ve got
another one for you. Friggin’ Charlie didn’t want to go near the thing like
usual, but at least he’s still a
better partner than Grimshaw. I just wish he’d man the hell up,” LeRose said
with her typical scowl, holding on to another chain that wrapped around the
demon. Levi was convinced her face was frozen that way. He was at least
somewhat thankful that he rarely saw her as she spent much of her time with her
new partner, Charlie, who had recently come to the Afterlife. They were just
similar enough that they got along and when they did bicker, it was over such
petty, trivial things that they often forgot what they had been arguing over
five minutes after they had started.
“Just another face
in the crowd,” Levi said in response to Blue. He stood up and walked towards
the creature that dwarfed him; it strained against the chains to greet the
Listener, every single one of its eyes shifting at once to focus on the man.
Levi allowed the L
noise to wash over him. “If you felt you were justified, then you were. Ignore
what anyone else says. If they deserved to die, then they did, Christopher Dowd.”
The demon exploded
in a flurry of steam that engulfed the room in a flash and just as quickly
evaporated into nothingness, leaving behind a strong looking young man with a
shaved head. He held a wicked grin, and a broken heart was tattooed on his
forehead. He made a lunge at Levi, but LeRose kneed the man in the gut.
“LeRose, always
the delicate flower.” Levi ran his hand through his wavy hair.
“Shove it,” she
said as indelicately as Levi imagined she could.
Levi touched the
cracked heart on the man’s forehead.
“The people you
killed didn’t deserve it. And you don’t deserve reincarnation.” Levi rapped the
knuckle of his index finger on the heart. “Sometimes Listeners have to lie to
get the job done.”
“Little boy Blue,
follow me up to the river. He’s your business now.”
“I’m feeling like he’s
going straight in the river. Later, Levi.” Blue stood up and ran out the door,
shoving past Charles. “Race you there, LeRose!”
“You can take all
the head start you want, you know you’ll get winded after fifty feet!” LeRose
shouted after Blue, taking her sweet time walking out of the restaurant while
dragging along both Charles and the bald man.
Levi sighed heavily,
peering out into the hallways of the Afterlife, gazing at his coworkers as they
passed by. With great effort, he separated himself from his little area, and
set out to see something. Maybe, if
he were lucky, he’d run into Alice.
That was not the
case. Levi had gone quite a ways away from his little nook, wandering ever
closer to the shores of Acheron, the place where the halls shifted into caverns,
following the others who had left his restaurant. He had rarely gone this way;
the last time he had seen the shores was probably fifty years prior, yet he
felt drawn to them.
As he arrived he
noted how not much had changed. Little boats came and went frequently and Levi
waved to the people he recognized, stopping once he found Blue walking into the
water, followed by LeRose and Charles, who held the tattooed man on either
side. He thrashed violently, kicking up a spray of water.
Blue grabbed the
man’s face and began chanting. Levi couldn’t understand the spell, but after a
minute it was drowned out by a haunting scream that everyone ignored. And then
it stopped. It stopped, and slowly the man sank in to the waters, Charles and
LeRose letting go of him so he could be eaten by the river. There was a soft
glow, and then nothing; his soul had become one with Acheron, trapped by the
sins he committed before becoming a demon. Levi would have continued to ponder
the man’s fate had he not heard the word Monday shouted at full force. Levi
looked around.
It was Friday.
Friday? Friday!
Certainly spotting
Friday was the last thing that Levi had expected, but nonetheless he was
surprisingly excited to see the Guardian. He walked briskly towards Friday, who
waved in broad strokes with his arm.
“Monday, my dear,
dear long lost friend!” Friday embraced Levi. “I have news!”
“Good Friday,
Black Friday, what brings you to the Afterlife?” Levi felt his speech shifting
in tone to match at least part of the ridiculousness of Friday’s.
“Well if you’d let
me explain instead of asking silly questions, I told you I have… no, now it’s
gone. Like a bubble. It just popped.
Maybe if bubbles were made of paper they’d last longer?”
Levi laughed. He
wasn’t even irritated, just strangely calm. He felt peaceful. “Well, while you
think, I have some news. Do you remember Raphael?”
“Possibly. About
this high, terrible at games?”
“That’s the one. I
used the L Noise on him, and it turns out Raphael was actually his name. How
did you know?”
Friday cocked his
head. “You can’t lie in Astoria. I thought I—didn’t I say that? Nobody listens.
Frustrating.”
Without being able
to help it, Levi laughed an honest to goodness laugh. Perhaps it was because he
was trying to fill a void he felt he had created for himself, but not much had
made him happy the past few months. Not much at all. But Friday did. His
presence was just what Levi needed; something random to make things less boring
in a safe way.
“Oh, now I
remember. We’ve had a hit on No One!” Friday snapped his finger, pleased with
himself that he could remember his message.
Just like that,
Levi no longer appreciated Friday’s presence. “What?”
“No One found a
body and was invading the Dreamscape, but HR says he was stopped. Funny place
to invade, it’s always changing. It would give me a headache.”
Levi chewed on his
lip, not wanting to let Friday on to the grotesque feeling that was churning in
his gut at the news. He really was wrapped up in all of this, whether he wanted
to be or not. And so he chose his next words carefully. “Well then. The game is
afoot.”
END MONDAY.
See you on Tuesday J
Monday Night Chinese v5 Part 4: Anti-Studies
Part 04: Anti-Studies
. “Come
on, LeRose.”
“Come on,
nothing.”
“You know you want
to.”
“Grimshaw,
I’ll punch your nose in again.”
“Just
this once?”
“Do
you like it when I break your nose?”
“It
heals after a few seconds. It’s worth it if I get to touch you.”
“You’re
disgusting, you know that?”
In
front of the doors of his Chinese restaurant, out in the hallways of the Afterlife,
Levi stood and witnessed the droll argument of the Reaper duo Grimshaw and
LeRose. LeRose always sounded so much rougher than she looked, and it pained
Levi to hear her speak; often she was crude, and she was narcissistic, vain,
and shallow. Grimshaw any better. He was obsessive and a little unstable, in
Levi’s good opinion, and somewhat of an idiot lacking basic common sense. It
gave Levi nothing but pure joy to poke fun at the two of them because they
deserved it, one hundred and eighty percent.
Grimshaw
went in to grope LeRose’s chest and she responded in kind by punching him in
the nose, resulting in a loud crack. As she turned to leave, LeRose finally
took notice of Levi. She rolled her eyes.
“Friggin’
prick. He has to be a masochist.”
“Victoria.
Robert. How nice to see you both. What do you want?” Levi slipped past the
Reapers and into his restaurant, not bothering to hold the door open for them.
Frankly, he had no desire to speak to either one, since neither had a demon to
give to Levi.
Ever since word
had gotten around about his little trip to Astoria, his coworkers had tried
cornering him to get details about the city and the Guardians, a class of
workers very few people outside of the Ferrymen got to interact with. It was
because of this that he avoided staying in any one location for extended
periods of time, even his restaurant, so people wouldn’t be able to track him
down. To a lesser extent there were those who were also curious about the Black
Hearts, their coworkers, that he had been able to heal once he had gotten back.
They too were subjugated to frequent questioning. Some were of the opinion that
Levi had attained a higher level of being, like reaching Nirvana, which gave
him extra special powers that people were jealous of. This of course was not
the case, but rumors still persisted.
“Why
can’t you show us some respect and call us by our work names, Levi? We don’t
see you calling Blue by his living
world name.” Grimshaw pushed himself through the door after LeRose, his nose
already healed and showing no signs of the break LeRose made a minute earlier.
Leaning
against one of the restaurant booths, Levi responded, “Blue is a legitimate
nickname, it’s part of his actual name. Hand to God. Maxwell Bluefield,
all-American boy.” Levi stared the two Reapers down, and added, “It helps that
I like him, too. Now what do you want?”
“You’ve
turned into a real douche ever since you decided to go British,” LeRose spat,
simultaneously taking that time to put her rouge hair in a ponytail so Grimshaw
would stop trying to play with it.
“LeRose,
how many times have I told you not to use such coarse language?” Levi nodded
his head at the female Reaper. “Is that what they’re wearing in the living
world now? I might have to change my wardrobe.”
Levi
was referencing LeRose’s rolled up skinny jeans and the oversized plaid
button-up shirt she wore over a black tank top. Grimshaw’s style was similar,
with tight pants, a striped v-neck and black-framed glasses. Because of Levi’s
infrequent trips to the living world, he got a lot of his latest clothing ideas
from Reapers, many of whom, for some reason or another, still tended to keep up
with modern fashion. Alice was one of the few exceptions.
“HR
wants to see you, and while you’re at it could you tell her to give Grimshaw to
some newb? I’ve been here thirty years, and nobody shows me any respect. I’m
tired of being stuck with him.” LeRose swatted Grimshaw’s hand away from her
ponytail Levi winced at this; Grimshaw made him uncomfortable.
“We’re
supposed to be in pairs thanks to Raphael, LeRose. Where’s your partner, Levi?”
“Uriel
got bored, so I dropped him off at his playground with Blue. You try keeping a
ten-year-old occupied.”
“How’d
the kid die, anyway?” Grimshaw asked, leaning in closer to catch the details.
“Old
age,” Levi responded, using his index finger to push against Grimshaw’s
forehead. Grimshaw looked perplexed. “When you die and work for the Afterlife
you can choose whatever age you want for your appearance. You learned this in
training. What does Human Resources want with me?”
Grimshaw
brushed Levi’s hand aside. “Probably wants to talk about your attitude. Or
Astoria.”
“I
was afraid of that,” Levi said. He sighed. He had spoken to her once since he
had gotten back from Astoria six months prior and that was when she had
assigned Levi to take over all of the Black Hearts that had been brought in and
all the subsequent ones after that, for Afterlife employees were still going
missing. Out of the thirty that were gone, seven had been found and turned back
thanks to Levi’s efforts. HR had promised that later on they would talk about
his time in Astoria and other important matters he was now unfortunately a part
of and it looked like that time had come. “No use prolonging my departure,
then.”
Levi pushed
Grimshaw out of his way and headed for the exit. He did so hate spending so
little time at his restaurant, but it couldn’t be helped. He pushed open the
door and held it open for Grimshaw and LeRose.
“Come on you
scamps, out you go.”
With a disappointed
groan the two Reapers went out the door, Levi following suite.
HR was a Listener
like Levi, but had been around for at least an extra hundred years. Lately he
wondered if she remembered her past at all, since Levi could barely remember
his own. She was the official head of the Listener Department and the one who
assigned people to special cases, like Levi with the Black Hearts. She dealt
with a lot more as well, like when people caused trouble, but none of that
really mattered to Levi at the moment. He hardly ever saw her, and preferred it
that way.
He entered the
coffee shop, HR’s special area in the Afterlife, spotting the short-haired blonde
woman. She was the only other person in the restaurant, sitting at the counter
and holding a mug of coffee. As Levi drew closer he could make out the writing
on the mug; it read World’s Best Boss.
He uncomfortably took a seat next to her.
“Levi, I haven’t
seen you in a while. I hear things have been a little tough.” HR’s voice was
smooth like Levi’s, having had even more practice than him at sounding calm,
reassuring and in control. Was this how others felt talking to him? He hated
it.
“You undershot. I
was looking for was problematic, but you do win a consolation prize of a
banana.” A cup of coffee appeared next to Levi. He stared, uninterested at the
dark liquid in the mug.
HR smiled warmly.
She looked so sincere and so casual in her teal cardigan, thin white dress and
sneakers. “Have you seen Laura since you’ve been back? I spoke with her when
Blue and Alice brought her in, to make sure she was good to come back to work. You’ve
been doing a fantastic job reversing what the Man in Gray has been doing.”
“Raphael,” Levi
said, swirling the coffee in his cup.
“Pardon?”
“The Man in Gray.
Friday Panache called him Raphael. I told you that a while ago.”
“Knowing Friday
that name could very well be made up.” HR laughed, and Levi couldn’t help but
laugh with her though he didn’t know if it was willingly or part of some spell
of hers.
“Alright,” He
said, “you broke the ice. But just a little. What did you ask me here for?”
“It’s time to talk
about Astoria,” HR replied.
Not particularly
wanting to talk about his time there, Levi tensed up.
“I already know
everything that happened. I received a… unique report from Friday.”
“Then do you know
why he calls me Monday?”
“No clue.” HR
daintily took a sip of her coffee and when she was finished she smacked her
lips a little. Levi found it endearing. “You know the stories of No One. I’m
here to fill in some blanks.”
Levi nodded silently.
“Raphael is more
than likely an agent of No One, I’m sure you’ve figured that much out. Working
as an Anti-Listener, he can turn perfectly normal souls, including Afterlife
workers, into demons. He probably does this for No One, so he can feed.”
“We must make a
lovely target, a group of souls all gathered together in one place like this.”
Levi rapped the countertop with his knuckles.
“Indeed
we do. Having everyone stay in pairs isn’t enough.”
Levi
pushed the coffee aside.
“I’m
sorry, would you prefer tea?” HR asked. Levi gave her a stern look.
“What do you
really want to talk to me about, HR?”
She laughed
gently. “You’re sharp, you know that? Nobody’s ever given you much credit for
doing your job, but you’re good at it. You deserve recognition.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s not your
choice. The Kings want to speak with you.”
Levi didn’t
respond.
“I hope now’s a
good time.”
Still no response.
“I’ll open the
doorway, then.”
Because of her
position, HR could open doorways to other places herself. And true to what she
had said, she opened the proper doorway for Levi for, over the counter, an old
wooden door with the sigil Levi had seen in Astoria appeared out of the haze.
The rest of the room vanished, leaving HR and Levi to stand in blackness.
“Fine, I’ll go.
But I insist on disliking vehemently, just so you know.”
HR smiled at the
comment and nodded for Levi to move forward. He complied reluctantly, moving
forward and grasping the brass doorknob, turning it ever so slightly. The door
opened with a flood of light. Levi stepped through.
On the other side
of the door was an elaborately decorated chapel. It looked to be older than
Levi himself; he had seen churches like often in England, and he strangely felt
at home for just a moment in the place until he heard the soft vacuum of chaos
invade his ears, a cacophony of spilling sin, blood, peace, rage, tyranny,
tranquility, love—all things that could not possibly mesh but did. He looked
towards the front of the chapel at the three thrones occupied by the Three Kings
and knew they were behind the noise, using it to get the Listener’s attention.
Very well, Levi thought. They had it and he would grace them with his presence.
He made his way forward towards the altar, and, with each bench passed, he had
vague memories of sitting there with other newly recruited workers as they were
briefed on the Afterlife, and he wondered when the last time they were filled
had been. Finally the subject stood before his kings, but he felt no sense of
loyalty to them.
The eerie lads that
sat in the thrones bore a striking resemblance to one another, which left Levi
feeling unsettled, like they were mere copies of one another. Each one looked
like they were torn right out of a drawing from a 1950’s advertisement; they
were properly dressed in slacks and buttoned shirts and either a cardigan or a
suit coat, and each wore a bow-tie as well. Their cheeks were unbelievably
rosy, and their eyes, those eyes so piercing they made Levi’s dull by
comparison, were also unnaturally large. Each had a different color hair as
well; in the center was the blond, and on either side was a red head and a
brunette. They were illuminated by a light source that flooded in from the
stained glass mural behind them, furthering their near angelic appearance. He
remembered them looking a little different the last time he had seen them.
Every spirit that worked
for the Afterlife was chosen by the Three Kings and met with them for training.
That was the only time Levi had met with them, and back then they had linen shirts,
coats, cravats and breeches; he remembered thinking they were probably dandies.
Otherwise, he simply knew them as a pain in the buttocks. They were the ones a
tear or two above people like HR and made the rules, and doled out the
punishment for those workers who tried going rogue. They were also the ones who
decided when a worker had fulfilled their contract and could move on to
Astoria, and from there it would be decided if and when they would reincarnate,
or if they would move on to Heaven. Sometimes Levi wondered if the Afterlife
offices were actually a purgatory where all the workers were being purified
before being allowed to peacefully move on, and he wondered what he had done in
life to deserve not getting to live his second life in peace.
“All hail the
kings,” Levi said snarkily. He hoped to get across the message that he didn’t
wish to speak with them.
“Levi,” the blond
one spoke, “how are you?”
The way his hair
was styled reminded Levi of duck fluff because it was so feathery and yellow
and otherworldly, strangely enough, when coupled with his sapphire eyes. He was
a little too Aryan Race for Levi’s tastes but then again he wasn’t there to
impress Levi.
“I’d be better if
Grimshaw wasn’t around. He’s an ice muncher, you know. Munch munch munch. It
drives me insane. I don’t suppose you’d like to get rid of him for me?”
The blond one
smiled. To be fair, he had been smiling the entire like a creeper the entire
time, looking oddly pleased about something, but Levi liked to think the smile
grew just a bit larger thanks to him. By contrast, the other two looked a bit
downtrodden and said nothing.
As if by some
divine providence, which Levi wouldn’t put past the blond one as to possessing,
he acknowledged Levi’s unasked question about the melancholy that ailed the
other two Kings.
“We ask you don’t
mind the other two,” he said using the royal we. “They are resting.”
“So I’ll be
speaking solely with you then?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose you
have a name?”
“Don’t suppose
this, suppose that. Stop wasting time, Levi. We know you’re curious as to why
we asked you here.”
The blond one’s
sharper tone startled Levi noticeably, but the blond one keep smiling away.
“You may call us
Malachi.”
“Malachi.” Levi
let the name roll around in his mouth, getting accustomed to it. They had never
revealed their names during training.
“Be careful with
that name, Levi. Names are important. Nod if you understand us.”
Levi nodded.
“Now, as to why
you’re here,” Malachi started. Except for his mouth, he did not move a single
inch. “Everything within the Afterlife is in balance. We have… had… the perfect
number of workers. Every person has a purpose, no one is expendable. We have
the final say on what goes on, and the Man in Gray spits on our authority. Do
you understand?”
“No, could you try
explaining that while talking down to me again? I’m sure that would do the
trick.”
Malachi stared
Levi down, and Levi could tell the King was winning.
“We will tolerate
none of that, Listener,” Malachi warned. Ferocity and fear welled up in Levi. Malachi
uncurled the fingers on his right hand, and grasped the arm of his chair. Levi
could feel a deep pressure burrowing in to him. He felt like his soul was going
to be crushed, right then and there. “We easily could have turned this in to a
disciplinary meeting over your unauthorized trip to Astoria, where you, a
Listener, not an assigned Guardian, prisoner or normal spirit, do not belong. But
we saw fit to overlook that. Do you understand our generosity?”
“Yes,” Levi choked
out, trying his hardest to resist the pressure. Once Malachi seemed pleased, he
returned his hand to its original position of rest and Levi was freed.
“Fantastic.”
Malachi’s cheery demeanor did not shift, remaining as fake as Levi now knew it
was. “Now I’ll continue. If you think about it, Listener, you could compare
everything in the Afterlife to the harmony of the elements. The Reapers are
fire, the Listeners wind, the Ferrymen water and the Guardians earth.”
“Then you three
would be the aether,” Levi observed. He couldn’t be quite sure, but he thought
that Malachi had looked upon his guess approvingly.
“Very good. If you
understand the elements well enough to know about aether, then surely you also
understand how easy that balance can be broken. We are trying to correct this.
When the Man in Gray arrived—”
“Raphael,” Levi
interrupted. “Friday calls him Raphael.”
Levi thought he
heard Malachi sigh but it was hard to tell since his mouth was the only thing
moving.
“We prefer not to
speak of Friday right at this moment.”
Some of the
pressure was starting to build up around Levi again, so he nodded to show his
understanding. “Sorry. Carry on, Malachi.”
“When Raphael arrived, we saw fit to correct
some of the imbalance through you. That is why all the Black Hearts have been
sent to you, and why you have been able to deal with them. Through our grace.”
Nodding, Levi felt
it appropriate to thank Malachi, though he didn’t particularly mean it. It was
simply a formality and he was sure the King understood and wouldn’t hold it
against him.
“The imbalance has
gone on too long. It needs more than a temporary fix. It needs resolved. Now.”
There was silence.
After a minute of it, Levi assumed it was his turn to speak. “Okay,” was all he
could think of to say.
“We can tell from
here that Raphael has breached the Afterlife once more. We will send you straight
to him.”
Levi frowned.
“What exactly do you expect me to do?”
“Rally the
troops.” Levi could have been hearing things, but he swore Malachi’s response
had a layer of sarcasm and a subtext of ‘you’re an idiot.’
“Oh.”
“We will send
backup if you’re really that desperate. We simply thought it best to warn you
first.”
Malachi must have
thought he was being all generous or whatnot, but Levi felt like he had just
wasted time. This was unacceptable; he was only okay if he was the one wasting
his own time, otherwise it was infuriating. The King lifted up his hand and
shooed Levi away.
“Off with you,
Listener. You know what we desire. Now do it.”
Rather
unceremoniously, Levi was flung across the chapel, and through an open door
that led back to the Afterlife.
Levi
ended up back in front of the restaurant, where Grimshaw and LeRose still
happened to be, bickering. Raphael was behind Grimshaw, whispering into his
ear. Levi still hadn’t found his bearing and couldn’t focus long enough to
point it out to LeRose. Grimshaw’s eyes grew steadily larger and when LeRose
noticed Grimshaw wasn’t right next to her any longer, she turned and saw
Raphael.
“Oh
no you don’t!” She shouted, running up and punching Raphael right in the nose.
He fell back, and Grimshaw held out his arm, allowing a spear to form in his
hand out of a haze. He thrust it at Raphael, but Raphael grabbed the spear and used
it to swing Grimshaw, who was still hanging on, into a wall. LeRose, now
holding a scythe, slashed downward but Raphael dodged to the side. Grimshaw
tried once more to skewer Raphael, aiming for his chest, but the red mouth on
Raphael’s shirt bit the spear, snapping it in half.
“Both
of you get out!” Levi shouted, finally shrugging off the effects of his sudden
transport. LeRose did not take too kindly to that and started shouting
obscenities. “LeRose, shut up and help Grimshaw—then get out! Go to HR before—”
Grimshaw
was convulsing. In a matter of seconds his skin turned crimson, black spikes
protruded from his spine, and a white mask formed over his face with a single
eye drawn on it. A black heart popped up on his chest. Raphael smiled, rushing
up to the demonized Grimshaw. He pulled out one of his eyeballs, smashing it
into a dust that reformed into a door behind. He grabbed Grimshaw and pushed
open the door, leaping through.
“Don’t
think, just follow.”
Alice
came from behind, grabbing Levi’s arm and rushing for the door. He could
briefly see Blue behind them trying to catch up.
“Hey—
take me, not the Ferryman!” LeRose shouted after a moment’s hesitation, but the
door closed before she could move.
The
three stood on the side of a poorly lit road in the living world, underneath a
flickering streetlight. Levi took a wild stab and assumed they were somewhere
in Canada due to the moose he saw crossing the street, but said nothing because
assuming did them no good; it didn’t matter where in the world they were. No,
what Levi really wanted to do was tell off Blue for following him and Alice. It
pained him to admit it, but LeRose’s presence would have been much more
appreciated, as she could actually fight.
“What’s
the plan?” Blue asked, sounding a little too eager.
“We
kill him,” Alice replied quickly. “It’s death and kisses time, and I’m all out
of kisses.”
Leaning
back against the streetlight, Levi scoffed, “Oh, is that all? We just kill him?
Wish we would have thought of that sooner. And what does death and kisses time
even mean?”
“Shut
up, something’s coming.” Alice lowered her voice. Raphael stood in the street
as a car approached. The driver probably couldn’t see him as it didn’t slow
down, but right before it ran into Raphael, he kicked it. He kicked it and the
car spiraled out of control, smashing into a tree and making some rather
disheartening crunching noises.
Levi
started, “Do you think…?”
“Every
day, don’t you?” Alice shot back.
“I
think he just killed someone!” Blue cried.
The
next thing Levi knew he was up in the air with Alice holding on to him, soaring
over the street and then landing on the hood of the car. Through the windshield
they saw Raphael whispering to the blond man inside, placing his hand inside
the blond man’s chest and pulling out his soul. Alice, using the agility
granted to her as a Reaper, kicked through the glass, hitting Raphael right in
the head before he went any further. Her foot withdrew and she reached in,
pulling Raphael out of the car. Levi had gotten off the hood of the car and
opened the driver’s door, saying whatever came to mind to calm the soul that
had been partly ripped from its body. This was a very delicate situation they
were in and he had no idea how to handle it.
“You’re
not dead, but… you’re not living. I’m really not sure how to properly us the L
Noise here…” Something hit the car with a loud thunk, and Levi turned towards the sound out of reflex. It was
Alice. This wasn’t exactly what he wanted to see, Alice getting tossed around
by Raphael. Levi prayed the demonized Grimshaw wouldn’t pop up to help Raphael.
Maybe if she had Friday to help, that ridiculously strong man, things would go
quicker. Or Blue. Blue. What had happened to Blue? Levi started stuttering,
words escaping him.
“Levi,
focus! Alice is fine, LeRose found us and got involved.” Blue popped his head
in through the driver’s side window. This startled Levi, who ended up hitting
his head on the ceiling of the vehicle.
Levi
caught a quick glance of Alice holding a scimitar, charging Raphael, slicing
him, while LeRose, holding a scythe, did the same from the other side. But no
blood came out, only little mists of energy. Blue snapped his fingers to get
Levi to focus. Levi thought back to what it meant when he had done that to
Friday, scrunching up his face at the thought that Blue saw him as being
unfocused, like the Guardian.
“Blue,
if you ever do that to me again I’ll drown you in Acheron.”
“Top
ten reasons why that’ll never happen. Number ten—”
Levi
shoved a finger in Blue’s face, shushing him. “If you shut up now I promise to
tell you who cooks the food in the restaurant.” Tiny little vibrations crawled
through Levi’s body as he found the right frequency to speak to the blond man’s
soul. Words formed in his mind, he could feel the man’s given name pop into his
thoughts, and he spoke, saying, “You have the potential. You’re… you’re a Saint,
and because of that you’ll survive. You’re a Saint, but you haven’t fully
awakened yet. You will, though. You will. This is your entryway, Kristjan Rupert
Callier. This is your beginning, not your end.”
The
soul began to stir, showing more signs of self-awareness and sinking back into
the body. Levi backed away. He had prevented any trauma, he hoped, from the
experience, and the soul was returning to the body that wasn’t yet dead and
could still house it.
Off
and away, Levi heard Alice swear loudly. He saw the mouth on Raphael’s shirt
snapping off the tip of Alice’s scimitar. He was about to say something when he
heard a terrible shriek coming from the seat next to him— the blond man,
Kristjan was convulsing, shrieking at the top of his lungs, writhing and
twisting and turning, body parts bending places they were not meant to bend.
Blue tried holding him down and got smacked in the face; he ignored it and kept
on trying.
“Levi,
make him stop!”
“Do
you want to do this?” Levi responded,
frustrated.
“Kind
of, yeah, but sadly instead of your metaphorical tuning fork I got stuck with a
boat oar!”
“Then
smack him with it!” Levi pushed down on Kristjan, the L Noise not connecting to
Kristjan. Panic ran through Levi’s body, his teeth ground against each other. Raphael,
even with only one arm, was too much for Alice and LeRose. Each of their cuts
would leave a wound that would allow energy to seep out, which worked perfectly
fine with demons as it would drain their energy from anger as well, but Raphael
wasn’t a demon and the cuts weren’t slowing him down.
A
soft light broke through the dark, illuminating the front of the car. Levi and
Blue looked forward, momentarily forgetting Kristjan’s seizure-like state.
There, emerging from the darkness, was an old wooden door with the now familiar
symbol from Astoria drawn on it in gold.
The
shadowy form of a woman with wild hair as long as her tall, slender frame walked
out of the door accompanied by a smoke that crawled around the road, smothering
everything it its path. She held Levi in a trance, he could not keep his eyes
off of her, and he would have kept staring had he not heard an animalistic cry
that differed from the ones Kristjan had been making earlier. Levi shot his
head to the side; Alice must have produced another weapon, a sickle, because
she pulled the blade of one out of the neck of Raphael.
Stumbling
around, he felt his wound but nothing spilled out except tiny whisps of energy.
Would nothing stop him? How was balance meant to be restored if he couldn’t be
killed? That thought triggered something in Levi’s brain. That’s what it was
all about, wasn’t it? Balance? The Man in Gray and thrown off the balance, and
Levi had been granted some sort of addition to his L Noise capabilities to
counter the imbalance. So why, then, wouldn’t he be able to do something to
finish off Raphael, or at least have some sort of ability that could help?
Levi
snapped his fingers to get Raphael’s attention, and when that didn’t work he
stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a boisterous whistle. That seemed to
work, and both men locked eyes; Raphael’s menacing black and white eyes against
Levi’s intense, emerald ones. Levi felt something within him tingle. His
fingers twitched, but his gaze stayed true. There was a sound, faint at first,
but it grew stronger, louder, and it sounded like static. But through that
static Levi could pinpoint something else, a voice. A solitary, angry voice
shouting against the static. He knew what to say.
One
step, two steps, three steps he took towards the sinister fiend. He could do
this. With three simple words, Levi could cast a spell to defeat the wicked
Raphael.
“You
don’t exist.”
Raphael
stumbled to his knees, clawing at the wound on his neck where thick black ooze
spewed out, saturating his body. LeRose impaled his chest with her Scythe,
creating a larger opening for more ooze to spill out. Raphael’s heterochromnic
eyes burst, spewing white ooze that covered his face forming a mask with a
single eye on it, and when his wounds finally sopped gushing, all that remained
was a cloaked, masked mass with two tiny, broken wings.
“Malachi
was right, you did figure out how to beat him without my help.”
Levi
slowly turned his head to peer at the shadowy lady, assuming she was the one
who spoke. His body tensed up. If a bullet it him, it would undoubtedly shatter
because of how tightly every inch of his body was clenched.
“You’re
the Listener who walked the streets of Astoria. Friday told me about you,
Monday.” No mouth on the shadow body moved. Was that normal? That wasn’t
normal. “The Kings sent me. I am Merrill Collingwood, Guardian of the
In-Between.”
“I’m
Levi. Now that we know each other I think it’s a wonderful time to start asking
favors. That’s what friendships are based on, after all. Owing one another and
whatnot.” Levi began regaining his cool composure; ‘negotiating’ was what he
did day in and day out, and she was obviously there to help anyway.
The
shadowy woman didn’t speak at first. Levi noticed Alice and LeRose now stood on
either side of Blue, and he saw strands of the shadowy hair creeping towards
the vehicle, climbing up it, through the broken glass, and wrapping around
Kristjan’s body. The hair lifted the now unmoving body up, and placed it
gracefully in the woman’s arms. A pale, porcelain face broke free from the
shadow surrounding Merrill. Her eyelids opened, revealing large and mesmerizing
emerald eyes that looked eerily similar to Levi’s. She began speaking in a
proper British tone.
“You saved him before
he could become a Black Heart. However, damage was done to his soul and it
won’t rest inside his body. I’ll have to remove it and his magical properties.”
“I’m
not sure I understand what that means.” Levi gulped. He swore he could hear the
faintest ticking noise ringing in his ears. It sounded like an old grandfather
clock.
“He’ll
be physical, unlike a spirit. He won’t be able to hide himself in the living
world like you or I, either. This one here, this Saint, will grow faster than
we could imagine. He’ll be an asset when No One rises.”
Levi
ignored the stares he knew he was getting from the other three; he would have
to explain everything about No One and his inevitable uprising to them later.
“Where will he stay?”
Merrill
paused thoughtfully, gazing at Kristjan. “We’ll find a place.”
Levi
nodded slowly. “Then do it.”
Merrill’s
face sank back into the shadows, and like a ghost she was gone through the
door, shrouded in eerie smoke. Every trace that pointed to her being there was
gone. Levi collapsed, still able to hear the incessant ticking noise in his
ears that refused to leave him alone.
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