Aphex Twin - Tha
...
— Name?
— Freya Crescent.
— Crescent... It's one of the moon's phases.
— I know.
— Age?
— Sixteen.
— Height?
— I believe I'm above 180cm.
— Fine. Weight?
— Don't know. Wearing all these things must make a difference... Also, it ain't polite to ask about a lady's weight.
— Sure it ain't. Sniff, sniff...
— What's up?
— Uh... is it just me, or is there something in this room smelling like cherry?
— It's me.
— Oh, that's you. Well, back to the real questions... Hand?
— I have both, but I mainly use the left one.
— So you are left-handed... look, it'll be a bit hard for you, but given your heritage, it shouldn't be that much of a problem.
— If you say.
— Sex?
— Uh? You already know.
— Sorry. Could you say again?
— I mean, why are you asking all these things, Sir Fratley?
— Just following the standard.
— Oh... right.
— Alright? Well, sex?
— Female.
— Sign?
— Is it any relevant by standards?
— Perhaps. Sign?
— I was born in July 15th.
— Cancer.
— Sincerely, I don't believe that my personality is defined by the sign of the month of my birth
— So you do not believe in fate.
— And you know how to write. Very well.
— Thanks.
/\_/\_/\/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_
No wonder why Ezekiel has so many papers to sign. Poor of him.
Despite being an only person, this seems to be taking an eternity. Fortunately, Sir Fratley writes very fast, and like I said, well too. It's kinda surprising how his writing is that good, given he can't see those words. Not before they dry up, so he can read them by the tip of fingers, while I eat my own. Had I been desperate enough, I would eat sand to fill in my empty stomach, but it wouldn't be enough to fill in something empty in me.
As time passes, and Sir Fratley writes on his notebook, we both sitting on chairs and only one of us doing something important, I stare at Sir Fratley, knowing that he can't stare back. But he knows I'm here, that I should be here no matter if I leave. I don't know if he'll bother if I leave this room for a while.
— There is a drinking fountain crossing the corridor, near Reis statue – I just raised from the chair when Sir Fratley said these things. I'm shocked, don't know what to say.
_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\/\_
— Uh? How did you knew I was going there?
— Well, you were leaving the room.
_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_
— So, that was just a guess?
— No. I heard your mouth drying up. So I thought you must be thirsty – he's coming up with these things, isn't he? Though, there is something in Sir Fratley's voice that makes anything he says convincing enough to be truth.
— Really? I know that blind people can hear well, but my mouth – yet, half of me disagree with what he said.
— Surprised? Had not been for the Dragoon, I wouldn't be able to do it so – and half of Sir Fratley is still convincing as his whole.
_/\/\/\/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_
— As a lawyer, don't you know what privacy means?
— Don't worry, Freya. I can't read minds. If I did it so, then I would be able to see everyone's fantasies, including yours.
— Heh. Sometimes you are quite a strange guy, Sir Fratley.
— That's the nicest thing I ever heard from someone.
— Uh huh. I don't want to be mean with you, but how come you became a Sir?
— Why do you want to be a Dragoon, Freya?
— Well... I don't know why. I just feel this is the right thing to do. I don't have a clear answer, you know.
/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_
— I understand. Are you feeling okay?
— I am. Why do you ask?
— Well, I suppose that, given the loss... Sorry.
— You don't need to feel sorry.
— I mean, it happened recently, and here you are, a new Dragoon.
/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_
— You mean that I only became a Dragoon to take mother's place?
— No, that's not what I mean. In a way, I believe you feel the need of doing what Lenneth haven't done, despite all she had been doing for you.
— Maybe. Am I here to be studied, or to study?
— You have awaited enough, didn't you?
— This chair is killing me.
— It ain't enough as a heart attack. Also, I'm finishing, so don't worry.
— I have nothing to worry about. You seem to be a good person, Sir Fratley.
— And you have a good heart, Crescent. You should listen to it
— Listen to my heart? As if you could...
— But I can.
/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_
— You say it as if you weren't kidding.
— If I can hear your mouth, so I can hear your heart too. Also, you are the kid here.
— Hey!
— Don't be scared, Freya. A heart alone doesn't tell much about a person, so it's not like I'm invading your privacity. We do this during conversations.
— Hrist didn't said that you could do that.
— She likes to keep secrets, though it's hard for her to not. Please, don't tell her that I said it.
— I won't. My mouth is like a grave.
— Your mouth doesn't stink.
— Okay... don't you know about limits?
— There are no limits for imagination. Know how I see you?
— Am I hideous?
— Of course not. I can't hear your shape, but it's easy to imagine. White hair, orange ribbon, tall, green eyes... you are like Lenneth, and she was beautiful.
— Same for the daughter, I presume. Won't you say a thing?
— Should I? Well, it's about time. Alright, you can now leave your chair – now I'm free.
— Whew... I told you that it was killing me – so I said to Sir Fratley. I guess he didn't bothered to hear my complains, given that he had been hearing me all along – so, what should I do?
— Let's go outside – he said, opening a window. A bit of rain splashed over Sir Fratley's face, and a bit on me as well. Rain and wind, hitting our both skins, but I only stood near the window, as Sir Fratley literally stood upon it.
— Are you going there?
— Yes. It's a quick way to the gardens. Care to try?
— No, thanks. You haven't taught me anything
— Oh... sorry. I'll teach you something, if you follow me.
— Okay. I'll take the door, if that's not saying too much – and to who am I saying it? Sir Fratley left from out the window. From the third floor. And guess what? He fell upon grass as if it was made of cotton. Not much of a surprise, given his hectic's earring, but still something unusual to see. Must be the Dragoon.
— Uh... Freya – and instead of broken bones, or the sound of a water puddle being hit, I heard Sir Fratley, lying on the ground. he couldn't stand on its feet, but still talked – I forgot to bring the cane.
I found his cane hanging on a wall. As it seems, Sir Fratley also forgot its hat. The one with a feather on its top. Seeing it closer, it looks like a Dragoon's helmet, though it ain't heavy like one. There are holes in front of the hat, alike the ones in my helmet, but why would there be holes if Sir Fratley can't see? Or even put his helm on... geez, I can't even wear mine on the face, it's too tight. Neither mom could, so it lies on top of my head.
Sir Fratley took both his cane and hat together with me, as we go downstairs until we reach the front door, then I turn to left, leading myself to the gardens. Closer, Sir Fratley looked like a turtle upside-down, except that he couldn't move its legs before he raised his hand which holded onto mine. I gave him the cane, and the hat that stood kneaded between my right armpit.
— How did you survived? – I dared to ask.
— Beats me. Perhaps I lessened the impact of the surface of my feet and the surface of watered ground – or, in other words, he's floating upon a water puddle.
— So that's surface tension?
— Yes. Same that prevents water striders from drowning – and a Dragoon by the name of Fratley Irontail of breaking its bones. Though, he can barely walk, but it doesn't seem to be because of the fall.
— Are you limping?
— Not exactly. If I want my legs to move on, I must believe that they'll do. That these limbs belong to me, that blood still runs on its arteries and veins, that my bones haven't turned to dust, that I can still feel pain...
— I understood.
— For real?
— Any of this is real, right?
— Sometimes, I do not believe it is. To walk again thanks to Dragoon...
— At this rate, you could see again.
— Well, not everything is the way we wish, Freya. If if was, we would be able to understand the Dragoon, but what I can say for sure is that the mind is stronger than the body it rules. That's the path of Dragoon, and I shall teach you the first step of achieving it. Are you prepared? – I already knew what to say to Sir Fratley.
— I was born ready.
— Funny, I was premature. Now, dear Crescent... Tell me, what do you see? – so Sir Fratley stood with its both hands holding the cane, as we stood upon the grass covering a garden in front of us, which only I could see. Willows weeping, sycamores, trunks dry, others covered in leaves, as my nose is filled in of the scent of rain. For a moment, I brood, without blinking, and still
— I see trees – I gave my answer.
— You see the forest, but you can't see the tree – so did Sir Fratley.
— Which tree? There is a lot of them.
— How many holes? – he said. Yes, Sir Fratley said it, and left that question on air. I didn't expected him to say such, but anyway...
— I see none – then I felt his cane poking my feet.
— Really? If you don't see, come closer – so I did, further into the garden, stepping upon grass that shouldn't be stepped. But since Sir Fratley is here, I guess that's the least of my problems.
— Why are you doing this? – I asked to Sir Fratley. Sure, I expected him to be a bit mean, not in same way as Hrist told me, but this...
— Doing what? Now it's up to yours.
— It's my first day here. Besides, I'm not here to see trees.
— I know. But Freya... A Dragoon like you can't be unarmed. Right? – well, Hrist said that I would receive my javelin tody, but didn't told me how. Is it the reason why I'm here? It doesn't hurt to ask.
— Right. I need a javelin, so here I am.
— Wood comes from trees, Freya. We just happened to stumble across a few.
— So this is where you got the woods to make their bottoms?
— Not these trees, but anyway... you'll get your own wood, to make your own javelin – sounds like a nice deal. But still, this doesn't seem to make any sense.
— Did others had to do this, Sir Fratley? I mean, take the wood out of the garden to make their weapons?
— No.
— No one?
— Nobody.
— So I am the first?
— Uh... Yes.
— But then, why should I-
— Because I told you to do it so. Also, I'm testing you – and I am running out of patience – Freya, a Dragoon's mind should not run out of strenght. The body gets the damage, and only the body feels pain. Your body does not feel clean even after a bath, or after smelling like cherry. But your mind should be clean, relaxed, focused. Control your body with your mind, not the contrary. Don't think about breathing, just breathe. Now, have you saw a tree fit for your javelin?
— A tree? Well... I see... I see – and I say clearly and cleary, so the Sir here can listen to me. As if he isn't already listening to my heart – what about that one?
— Where?
— Behind you – it was a random choice, but I choose a tree with a large trunk and skinny twigs. Had no flowers, only a rough shell felt by Sir Fratley.
— A cherry tree – like I said, it was a random choice.
— Cherry tree?
— Yes, Freya. A cherry tree is a cherry tree, in bloom or when withered by time – said Sir Fratley, still feeling the tree's trunk – doesn't look pretty without its flowers or fruits, but it's still alive and well.
— Can you hear its heart too? – I said. Don't know why, just felt the need of saying something, or doing an indirect. It's the Hrist in me yelling, now it should be quiet.
— I can't listen to trees. Not in same way as I listen to you, Freya. Know why?
— Why?
— Trees don't talk back. That may be the reason many are chopped down. They have no mouth, and they can't scream. So, is that your choice?
— Yes – I said, with the feeling that I couldn't support it any longer. Not that I'm in a hurry, but I would like things to go smooth.
— If you say... Take care of her. Make her sacrifice worthy.
— Are you speaking to me, or with the tree?
_/\_/\_/\/\_/\_/\/\_/\_/\/\_
— You replied, Crescent. See, you'll have a plenty of years ahead, as long as you keep your body together with your mind well – there, he read my heart again.
— For someone who says that a heart doesn't tell that much about a person.
— It doesn't. You have your habits, make your choices... I just give advices.
— You would do well being a doctor, Sir Fratley.
— A doctor only heals wounds. I teach you how to heal them by yourself. Well, a hand might come in handy... oh, sorry. Silly and redudant joke .
— I do not mind.
— Do you mind? – then Sir Fratley walked behind me, letting me facing the cherry tree – you, Freya Crescent, found the tree. Or did the tree found you?
— Enough of these questions. Just tell me what should I do.
— Okay. See the tree? Chop it down.
— Alright – I had been awaiting this long for some action, but given Sir Fratley's tone of voice, there was something else.
— Wait. Where are you going, Freya? – he said, soon as I moved out the grass, walking in a cobblestone path.
— I have nothing in hands. So I was going to find an axe
— Don't leave. You already have enough. Besides, you'll need your leg, and still haven't raised a javelin in hands. So stand here, and chop this cherry tree... with your own fists.
— With my what? – when Sir Fratley said that... I really wanted to chop him down. I mean, that inconsiderate can't even move his legs, and had no been for that cane, he would be dragging like a vermin in the shit, that may explain why Sir Flatley is so skinny and pale and cold and... deep breathe. Muscles relaxed. I just felt nervous before. A momentary lapse of reason, that fortunately only stood in my head.
— Yes. You heard me. Kick, punch, but please, don't bite the tree. We aren't savages – said the one who wants me to cut a tree with my fists. The legs count too.
Well, my claws aren't sharp enough, and when I gave my first punch, I felt as if the tree was punching me. Rain falls, and I began to sweat, still in the beginning. Ten, twenty, thirty with an only hand. Geez, really? Am I doing this? To be fair, it ain't that bad as it will get in time.
It's only the first day, and I wonder who will fall first: Me, or the cherry tree.