Disclaimer: Ok, you all know the stunt: I don't own anything here save for my twisted little mind, all right?
This is based on a wonderful mod HEX Coda by Stefan Gagne. Setting is his, characters are his (Cleo is mine, though), words are my own, but they are cheap and you can have them. ;)
If you haven't played the mod, the people and the references won't mean much to you. If you're interested in some lousy, third-rate philosophy, however, you might as well read it. Who knows? Might get you thinking… If it does, though, if I were you I'd start worrying.
Balance
"Balance?" Miranda exclaimed incredulously, almost dropping the trey.
"Balance," confirmed Cleo, stretching her legs leisurely and resting her elbow on the table.
"What in the world are you talking about?" Miranda demanded, sizing the sitting half-elf up and down.
Though she knew her for almost a year now, she was still an enigma to her. Nothing like Daniel, of course; unlike Mr. Smirking Smugness, Cleo was more than happy to blurt out every last detail about her life, if only one showed some interest in it. But the way her mind worked… Again, nothing like Pandy – the creepier part of the Monium Duo. Nothing, Miranda reflected, compared to the way Pandy's mind worked… and thank whoever for that, she added dryly. No, Cleo was nothing like the Nightmare Siblings. But she was a monk and that made her weird sometimes. Monks were rare in the Third Try… unlike during the Second. Sometimes… it was almost like staring at the relic from the past. But then, there was Six, and Six was a genuine Second Try article. Cleo… She was just weird.
Miranda put the tray down with a sound bonk, two coffee mugs giving a slight bounce and the table voicing a profound squeak of protest. One of these days, Miranda thought, that table's gonna give in just as I decide to lean on it.
Cleo stretched across the table and snatched her mug. Yeah, those two mugs were exactly the same, but Miranda's had a chip on it that made it readily distinguishable form all the others. Though, at the rate the Coders (Coders inc… dammit all!) were breaking them, Miranda suspected that soon enough her mug would be the only one left of the set. And woe to whoever tries to claim it. Becha Lester would. Luckily enough, the bastard wasn't with them any more… Or was it really "luckily"? Bah…
"Philosophy," Cleo said, sniffing the foul steaming brew. Miranda blinked.
"Huh?"
"I said," Cleo repeated, her nose still twitching on the rim of the mug, "I am talking about balance as a philosophy which is really a way of life."
Miranda rolled her eyes. Here we go again… As if one philosopher wasn't enough. Though, she had to admit Cleo's philosophizing was much more bearable than Daniel's… sometimes.
Cleo blew a strand of blonde hair from her face – there was always that one strand falling out of that pony tail of hers – and courageously took a sip. Miranda's attempts to be as different from the rest of her family as possible apparently translated into her coffee-making as well. Whereas Cleo suspected the Sinclairs made their coffee as weak and sugared as the stuff they sold throughout the Aether Slums, Miranda made hers strong enough to tranquilize a grown aux. Which was just as well. Cleo hated her coffee weak anyway.
Miranda sighed, sitting down "All right. Out with it."
"With what?" Cleo grinned innocently.
"Balance…" Miranda growled low.
"Oh, that. Eh… didn't I tell you about it already, back in the gym?"
Miranda tapped her fingers on the table, taking a sip herself. Ouch! Damn, that stuff was hot! How in the world can that crazy monk drink it right away?
Cleo chuckled. Miranda looked at her murderously. "How can you drink that, dammit?"
"Practice," Cleo shrugged. "Just like I can kick your ass in the gym."
"You didn't kick my ass!"
"OK, I didn't," the monk grinned again, "Just gave it a little spanky."
Miranda grumbled incoherent something. By what Cleo could make out, it involved another gym training session but with some sharp objects involved this time and, if at all possible, of slightly elemental nature, too.
"Chill out, Miranda. I've only been at it my whole life, you know."
Miranda looked at her. Yeah. Of course she was. Spending her whole life training unarmed combat, poking around and bugging various "masters of the art" for more and more knowledge on it… and seeking balance. Balance… Agh! And the most infuriating part of it was that she was actually achieving it!
"So… What's with that famous balance, then? I guess you ain't talkin' just about that circle kick you were… showing me." Circle kick… she still had a sore shoulder from that one.
Cleo chuckled again. "No. As I said, I'm talking philosophy. Inner balance. One…"
"…with nature, one with yourself, mind over body…" Miranda finished in a voice of a bored student repeating her lesson for about n-tieth time. "Yeah, yeah… It all sounds cool while you're just blabbing about it."
"Um-hum," Cleo nodded and took another sip. "But the thing is…" She shook her head.; "The thing is there's no use talking about it. It's something you gotta practice."
"Sure. And then I can do the circle-kick, right?"
"Yeah. And maybe stop snorting whenever Six comes into view."
Miranda scoffed. "Meekness might be contagious. I sure don't wanna catch any of it."
"One must be strong to be weak," Cleo quoted… though who precisely was she quoting doubtful even she knew. Miranda looked at her as if she just said "The Cathedral is good."
"That," she said slowly, "is the biggest idiotism I've yet heard you say."
"Is it?" Cleo tilted her head, "I thought that 'I think I can understand Pandy' still held the number one position."
"No," Miranda grinned, "That is out of any competition by far."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well… Let me put it this way: Six is out of time and out of place. If she were as weak as you make her, she'd crack by now. Yet she didn't. She lost her friends, she lost her family, she got kicked out of her secure little world; from a magic-free society tossed into this magic-limiting Try… And still she didn't crack. Sad – yes, but cracked? Definitely not. And that takes strength of spirit, hence," Cleo finished a bit triumphantly, "to be weak you must be strong first."
Miranda glared. "So what's that got to do with balance?"
"Everything. But to explain what I mean," a mischievous glint lit Cleo's eyes, "I think I'll need something other than this coffee."
Now it was Miranda's turn to tilt her head. "Like…?"
"Like… something with a bit more bounce to it. Like… "
"Like one of my bottles, you mean."
Cleo smiled widely.
"Cleo… " Miranda shook her head. "Aren't you monks supposed to be… Uh... I dunno. Ascetic or something? And besides, it's not like anything I can pour down your throat is gonna have any effect on you anyway."
"Nope. But my palate will appreciate it greatly. And I dunno what you're talking about. That last elven master I trained with could outdrink both of us under the table."
"Right," Miranda got up. "You," she said, pointing an accusing finger Cleo's way, "are a blatant extortionist!"
"Who, me? Nah. It's you I'm thinking about here – My grains of wisdom are much easier to swallow with some alcohol behind them."
"Oh, you're right about that, all right." Miranda snorted and disappeared into the kitchen.
& & & & &
Some minutes later, she came out carrying a bottle - Just common wine, but it'll do for the occasion. She heard a silent thump and winced. Dammit all! That's likely going to be the third dart board in two months! For all her supposed wisdom, Cleo never seemed to grasp that concept of a dart-board being for darts and not shurikens to launch at.
"It's coming out of your purse, you know," she grumbled, popping the cork out.
Cleo shrugged and planted another shuriken into the board.
"So," Miranda said, taking a swig and passing the bottle, "Balance."
Cleo took the bottle and looked at it thoughtfully. "Balance…Well, it's kinda like fine wine, really." Something in the way she said "fine" made Miranda think the monk didn't consider what she held right now to be in that category. "The right blend. A perfect mix of all ingredients as to produce the finest and most pleasant taste possible." Cleo took a swig and made a face. "A little bit of sourness, a little bit of bitterness, but also the right amount of sweetness, properly aged, smelling slightly of wood and just a little bit dry."
"Are you talking balance or what you would want this thing to taste like?"
Cleo laughed. "Miranda, we both know that this thing can't taste like that no matter what you do to it!"
"Hrmph," Miranda snatched the bottle and took another swig. "Well then, if there are wines that can't taste properly no matter what, then there are also people who can't be balanced, no matter what."
"I didn't say that. But I did and do say that not everyone can be a monk."
"Elitist…" Miranda grumbled under her breath.
"Nope. Just stating the obvious… And gimme that!" Cleo grabbed the bottle and took a swig herself. "But monks are not the only ones who can achieve balance. Everyone can find it for themselves. They just need try."
"Tries," Miranda mumbled sourly, "Tend to end in big, disastrous blasts."
Cleo frowned. "Only if you let them."
"I don't remember us being able to do anything about it." Miranda's voice was low.
"No. And that's balance, too."
"How?"
Cleo sighed deeply and looked up, her blue orbs meeting Miranda's green. Miranda 's jaw clenched. Sometimes, she thought, sometimes she had a n uneasy feeling that Cleo was looking straight into her mind. Then again, she reflected bitterly, Cleo was, technically, in her mind once already. And that, in hindsight, was as uncomfortable as it gets. Still, she met the monk's gaze sternly, determined not to show any of the budding frustration inside.
"Balance," Cleo said slowly and seriously – something Miranda found to be even more unnerving than the mind-piercing gaze accompanying the words – "Is a way of life. Balance is life."
"Life," Miranda countered harshly, "is not calm and peaceful." The words left her mouth even though she didn't want them to. Those words, she knew, could well pave the road into the grounds where she would not feel comfortable at all. But still, those grounds were there, whether she wanted to tread them or not, and the fact that she just said what she said was a clear tell-tale sign of it, for both women present. Damn! Serious talks should be left for when someone isn't too sober for it!
"And balance is not peace, Miranda." Before Miranda could point out that that flew directly in the face of what Cleo was previously saying, the monk continued. "As I said, it's kinda like wine. You strive to make it just the right mixture of ingredients, to get that perfect blend of taste and smell, but you can never really get there. But, you can keep trying and in trying, you'll get better and better in brewing it, every next bottle a little better than the one before. Like wine… like combat… Like anything."
"But then you're never really there, are you?"
"But you are there. It's striving to achieve it that already puts you there – But you gotta stay there and do your best to make it better and better."
"You're not making any sense, Cleo."
Cleo shook her head. "Maybe I'm not. It's… hard to explain sometimes. And especially if you refuse to listen."
Miranda snapped her head up sharply. "What do you mean!"
"I mean, you don't want to hear it because that would make you think about it and you don't want to do that," Cleo stated matter-of-factly.
"I'm tired of all the riddle-talk, dammit! You sound just like Daniel now!"
Cleo's gaze pierced through her like a spear. "All right. Straight and blunt, then. Balance is a fluent thing – it moves, it shifts, it happens. If you are there, then you move along with it. If you are not, then you're just running to catch up and, in the end, you just end up winded and pissed. To have balance means that you are in peace with whatever's happening, good or bad, cuz it's all a part of life and you just gotta take it as it is. You can and should try changing what you don't like about it, but first you must have the idea of what you want done before you start changing things. Introspection – that's what my meditations are for. Yeah, I do get very pissed at what I see sometimes, but it's me and I gotta deal with it. You," Cleo poked Miranda's shoulder, "just take a glance and then decide you don't want to look at it. As long as you keep it up like that, you'll never be the happy-go-lucky-take-things-in-stride-and-kick-them-hard type you're trying to pass yourself for."
Miranda stood up angrily. "I am not…"
"Yes you are!" Cleo shot back. "Think what you will of it, but we both know the Recognizer told you the truth. You can like it or not, but there it is. Turning and choosing points are hard, but you gotta go through them, sooner or later," now Cleo, too, got up. "Just gotta watch it not to be too late… and end up like Lester."
Miranda opened her mouth, but the monk was quicker. "He is defeated by his own pride. Don't make the same mistake."
Abruptly, Cleo turned on her heel and left the kitchen, suddenly leaving fuming Miranda without a verbal sparring partner.
Thud… Crack! Miranda's fist shot down on the table, several splinters shooting up in turn.
Damn! What does she think she's…? …Argh!
Sthud! Clenching her teeth, Miranda kicked the table yet again and snatched the bottle. Forcefully, she sat down and took a deep swig. Bah! I knew I was too sober for this kid of talk!
But the damage was done now, she knew. Her mind set off racing for the introspection grounds she had no wish to visit and it was charging there full speed. No amount of alcohol would stop it before it got there.
& & & & &
Why am I here? What do I want? Where do I want to go? Questions followed each other, falling down like a hailstorm.
Why am I letting it get to me? Why do I care? …Do I care at all? She tried countering the assault with good, steady sour wine stream.
The source of anger… Defeated by pride… Don't be too late… They refused to drown in the alcohol flood.
Change what you want, but know what you want first… Whatta lip service. But still, but still… One of these days, she knew she would have to.
Face it…No matter how much she avoided it.
Choose… No matter how much she delayed.
Decide… No matter how hard it is, she knew she would have to.
She would have to find… Balance.
A little bit of sourness, a little bit of bitterness, but also the right amount of sweetness, properly aged, smelling slightly of wood and just a little bit dry…
You strive to make it just the right mixture of ingredients, to get that perfect blend of taste and smell, but you can never really get there…
…Or can you?