Sonic Youth - Society is a Hole
Burmecia.
Land of Eternal Rain.
A land of rats.
Some rats fly.
— Hey, I was born there – said Hrist, pointing to an alley beneath her feet. The whole world seemed to, except for the skies above – or, in this case, threw.
— Why do you think it so? – said Sir Fratley, who propelled its knees on the edge of a tall building, to once again find himself on thin air. Same for Hrist – you were only a baby.
— I know. As if they cared – then silence followed these words. Rain poured hard and filled in the silence with the sound of drums. Though provoking for some, its the least detail to be paid attention to, for a kingdom whose stretched alleys leaks poison out their swollen cracks, as if they asked for more – well, not anyone can do cartwheels like me. And guess what? You need a ground to do these, but I don't!
— Impressing, isn't it? – he replied, followed by a spinning somersault to a building to another, ending with a landing of both feet.
Such would have broken its bones, had not been for – Surface Tension... It never gets old – Hrist said, in a nostalgic tone. To watch the clouds above for a while would make her remind the scent and taste of crayons coloring her childhood, but Fratley doesn't know the meaning of pause, neither we have a reason to stand still any longer.
Soon as Hrist landed on the other side, water out of a puddle splashed the surroundings, including Fratley. That used to be fun... He said nothing, didn't bothered to look to her face, had eyes for someone else. Or, in this case, something else.
— This way – said Fratley, before he ran away. It was already hard for him to stand on both feet, but even harder to stand still and do nothing. Beyond his position, a huge gap lied between the building he stood and the one he wanted to be in. Rain falling from above where he stood... a flat surface, covered in ripples; that's how Fratley 'sees' there's a safe place to land, but it ain't a safe jump. Once again, Fratley blesses the rain that it helps him to move around.
— I wonder what people say when they see us walking in the air like this – said Hrist, who took a quick view of a faraway below, before taking a leap of faith towards a tower – or walking vertically against gravity...
— Standing, you mean – said the man who stood barefoot in a wall against the stream of water falling down. It is possible to walk against it, he reflected, but it would take a lot of time, which's running out. Then Fratley took something out of its pocket: it was a shining and silver grappling hook, aimed and fired to the top of the tower – a Dragoon can do a lot of things with its body, but sometimes, we need some tools created by mind – he commented, climbing against the concrete waterfall faster than he would with both feet alone
— For someone blind, sure you can aim at the right place – so Hrist watched him for a brief moment, before taking a back flip as she landed on the streets filled of pigeons and scent of cigarettes. If not mistaken, she could have stepped upon a turd, which ain't the case.
Thank God, the young Dragoon told to herself, in a very rare moment outside training. Crouched down, and with a blink, the skies grated a creature who had no wings in between a flock of scared birds.
— (I wonder from where Fratley took that grapnel) – said Hrist, in tiny whispers. Maybe that green dot could hear from this distance...
— Well, this hook fits in this leather pocket found in the left section of my lower limb – yeah, he could, thought Hrist. As if I haven't got the hang of it yet... – or do you still think there's a independent section of time-space in my hat? – Fratley asked, for the apprentice and her jumpy heart on its back.
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— I used to, a long time ago. You do remember when I poured some eggs, thinking they would end somewhere else.
— And they did. This if there's a heaven for birds...
— Or a heaven for rats, just in case.
— Just in case – nothing was right at the moment for Fratley, who opened his eyes, in hope to see something. It takes nothing to try, but he has no time – if that's what you say, pumpkin.
— Hah, pumpkin – he had to say it, didn't he?
At the same time, Hrist wondered if she could walk upon a rainbow. Jump higher than a building, walk upon waterdrops falling like icicles... but with everything so serious, it's hard to enjoy these little things as they used to.
Pumpkin... how she hates to be called by that, but also hearing that name come out of someone close is like feeling a shiver and wanting more. Strange sensation. If it brought relief for the weight of that helmet in head, whose eyes resemble the ones of a pumpkin during Halloween, thence the name; summing it up, the helmet in Hrist's head weights a lot, but it's pointy tip helps to move around. Aerodynamics, as Fratley said once, or whatever that means. Same can't be said about the metallic garments above her coat. Sure, the belt holds on the escutcheon in chest, but the rest seems to be there only for decoration.
Ripping the bottom of its purple coat may not have lightened the weight, but it sure caught the headmaster's attention. The one who used to call its child by 'Pumpkin Knight' with enough conviction and life... Uh huh, as if the 'head' would submit himself to that torture, in that close room, slowed down by osteophorosis crumbling bones apart, his lungs suffocated by bureaucracy...
— ...Cut a hydra's head and another grows on its place.
— Huh? What do you mean, Hrist? – asked Fratley, beyond the pit where people at the bottom flowed into. Hrist looks to her mentor for a moment, unable to say anything. A yell, by preference, but there's no joy in falling from a building. The thrill is there, a childish and guilty thrill, but...
/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_
— Oh, sorry – she said, with the heart upon the throat. Anyone would feel same while spinning in midair, and once again landing safely. The result of harsh training sessions are showing up – I spoke loud, didn't I?
— In resentment – as well as years without a companion to trust. A heart doesn't lie for Fratley – something bothering you?
— No. Nothing – she said, letting a breath come out. A cold breath – well, it ain't everyday that someone attemps to prove their worthless and pathetic existence by killing themselves in front of others.
— You sound a bit cynical.
— And shouldn't I? — Hrist asked, rhetorically, as she turned her back. He won't notice. It's strange when you talk to someone who doesn't look at your face, she thought. Anyone in my place would be amazed, so her mind flowed into another thought. It seemed as if only herself was there, in high wire. But even if it was that way, he would be down there to hold me.
— I admit that I'm feeling nervous as well, Hrist. Yet, something about death and the laws related to it fascinates me. It's wrong to kill, including yourself.
— On other hand, it ain't wrong to make sacrifices – said Hrist, still facing the other direction. Got bored and decided to look to his face. Wasn't being ignored, after all – it's a sign of maturity.
— As long as you do not rotten from inside, to be mature ain't a bad thing – he said, before feeling the wind hitting the face.
— Or even a thing I am – so Hrist followed him, now that he seemed so distant.
— Well, if isn't that what a mature person would say... – but it was just an impression. Fratley was on her right side.
— Yeah, right – she said, soon as a tower came in front of both, cutting the sky like the edge of a sword – listen to my heart, and you may have enough difference to tell.
— Sorry, but I have no time.
— That's what father says — the lights coming out the poles shone beneath Hrist's coat of arms. She didn't stared at the for too long, in order to not share of same fate as a moth burnt – it used to make sense with him being alone, wandering throught these streets that treated his life like a lemon to be sucked, but now that I grew up, he's just getting lazy for strong arguments.
— I disagree – interrupting thoughts, Fratley said, as he and his apprentice holded their claws against a wall, attached by the water dripping on its surface filled of cracks – Hrist, you know how much Zack thinks about you when signing all those damn papers.
— At least, you agree there's something wicked about them.
— Anyone would. Besides, he's getting older.
— I think he's far older than both of us.
— Hrist – he looked at her with same glare. Must have learned from father, thought Hrist, before conveying something to say, or else that awkward silence would stand. It already stood for long enough.
— Well, enough about my dad. His ear might be burn out already.
— If this bothers you so much...
— Then should I keep it all to myself?
— Of course not – again, Fratley looks at her, but this time, there's something else – like us, Zack is a wielder of the Dragoon, even sitting on that chair. But unlike your reasoning, the source of its power doesn't come from the Dragoon alone, nor is dependant of it entirely. He has friends, people he can trust, and the one he trusts by heart... is you, Hrist. Don't you see? The day Zack found you abandoned on a trash bin and offered the warmth of its chest to yours, his strenght, a name for that fragile creature covered in filth that nobody wanted... that was the worst day of his life, together with the best. He wanted the best of you, now what do you want out of him...
— ...I just want him the way he found me, right – it's strange how a blind's eyes seems devoided of emotion, thought Hrist, while at same time they're full of depth. It's like staring to an ocean full of algae; cold, but filled of life – I mean, I didn't cared when dad pulled me to other people. Said he would do something important, and I believed. Now here I am, thinking I am doing something important, yet all I do is complain.
— Who said that? If all you do is complain, then why I cared to bring you here?
— You didn't brought me here, Sir Fratley. I choose to be there, thinking you might need help. Besides, I like your company.
— Oh, I'm flattered. At this rate, you'll be able to forgive Edea for kicking you in the stomach – oh, yes... butterflies and blood came out my mouth that day, thought Hrist, who prefered to forget that dreadful experience – that was an accident, you know.
— It really was. No wonder she said you were good at words back then.
And now... a bit of rain poured out of Hrist's helmet, who looked below and saw that crowd of people reunited as if something important was about to happen. Nothing happened, neither Fratley did something.
The roof seemed empty from this distance, this until he showed up. A silhouette hindered by rain, approaching near the edge. The man seemed to come back and forward, threatening to jump anytime, tainting the gray asphalt in red, or just hold on for the innevitable. Perhaps a pause for bathroom, a side of Hrist thought, the one side of head who made her bring a smirk amidst it all.
More people came in, to see a spectacle of fear like never saw before. They were banned a long time ago, which ain't the case of violence, or death. The brief mention of it causes a reaction, not only belonging to her guts. No, it's the fear of the unknown, that people might die all of sudden, anywhere, in a painful or stupid way.
— Heh... heheheheh... heh... hahahah...hahah... – soon Hrist began to laugh, madly. She didn't wanted to laugh, it wasn't fun – hah... sorry. Heh... I am a bit nervous. Oh, what should I do, Fratley?
/\/\_/\/\/\/\_/\/\/\/\_
— Keep calm, Hrist – said Fratley, feeling the vibrations of her whole skin shivering, besides hearing a heart jumping as if it was about to sprout out of her skin like a nasty pimple. Maybe a bit of exaggeration of his part, given there's a lot of hearts he's listening to, focusing on a few – do the diaphragm breathing, like I taught you.
— I am... – then Hrist holds her breathe, and after five seconds, release it all – uh uh, doesn't work.
/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_
— It works if you believe – said Fratley, looking at her. Her heart began to beat as it normally does, before accelerating. Adrenaline is all over her body, the throat gulps, or whatever noise does that make. Anyway, these are the sounds of someone either about to punch someone, or fled like a coward. That heart... It ain't as worse as listening the one belonging to the man about to jump. Fratley... That heart is beating a lot. Fratley... like it's going to explode like a balloon, and everyone will hear it.
— ...Fratley... hey, Fratley? – Hrist... left side. A heart may tell a lot about a person, but sometimes words are meant to be listened.
— Yes, Hrist?
— I want to know what should I do – at this rate, the crowd should had been gone, but where there is a meat, flies come in – I... I don't know...
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— First, you must breathe – holding her hand, Fratley could feel the pressure inside Hrist lowering – I'll go inside, and you take care of the crowd.
— As if those Royal Guards could...
— I believe that you can – despite all that has been said, Fratley didn't noticed any changes, but he tries – I mean, I do not expect everyone to be out, but, if you can tell at least someone to get out here...
— Without a javelin, it's hard to convince someone – so Hrist stated, as she and her mentor landed into same ground as the crowd stood upon, with their heads glazed over skies, or whoever is about to fall from them – but I'll try, anyway,
— You're a Dragoon, Hrist. Of course they will hear you – said Fratley, raising its hand to briefly touch her left shoulder.
— You hear me a lot better than they do.
— And I am glad that I do. Hope that man hears me as much as I can listen to his fears.
...
Above, he threatens to jump, but a kind of force pulls him apart from the edge. Maybe the people, random faces and familiar ones, are the main reason it prevents him from doing it. Jump... everyone is here to see it.
Why are they here? He wonders. There is nothing to see, only a failed civilization in which the existence of those who worked hard are acknowledged near death. Nothing makes sense as it should, he thinks, can't even remember its name, doesn't mean a lot. As he stopped to remember his name, or maybe how life is great if lucky, the two Dragoon Knights below moved into adjacent paths throught the burmecian barricade.
Fratley moved in to the main door, where Royal Guards stood, while Hrist stood at the crowd, filled of whispers and noise out of throats chanting swearings against the poor guy, or 'whoever he thinks he's doing'... he ain't no martyr, isn't fighting for anything. Gave up of fighting... she hears a lot from a person nobody knows.
Johnny... then a name comes out. Good person. I can't believe he's doing it, friends and neighboors comment. Some are here to help, while others want to see, even know what's happening, like ants before a pile of sugar. The key of that door had been eaten in an old fashion by Johnny, who wondered if he could poison himself with its rotten metal.
Why not break the window? One of them says, but it's hard to know who. Perhaps the one with a brick in hand... good idea, if it weren't for the shards about to mutilate flesh of those passing by. Many ideas are brought by the crowd, to later be received by a Dragoon telling them to go away. Please, Hrist begs. She wants to be out of here more than they do. Her bittersweet voice shares of weakness, and her eyes hidden by brown locks reveal contempt for those who 'want to see it' as a crude way of entertainment their miserable low-lifes.
If someone could open that door... which Fratley instantly does with a kick. Numb, his left feet is useless, makes him limb, but anyway, the Knight won't need its fists, only to hold into the handrail. Two Royal guards stands with the swords at the entrance, while Hrist makes new friends. Hullo, a boy in ragged pants said. Children are so cute, she thinks, including the sniveling ones. With her hands on knees, followed of a smile, she tells them to go away, play somewhere else. They obey.
Hrist saw herself in one of those orphans, many walking around, stealing wallets, making phlegm bubbles come out their noses... which ain't a surprise, much least revolting compared to supposedly 'responsibles' standing here with their kids on lap. I could scatter sand on their eyes, if this wasn't qualified as excessive force, but for Hrist, that meant another paper for her father to sign in.
Meanwhile, despite having pulled a man in a puddle, Dan doesn't take the sword out its sheat. The claws are just fine, still useful whenever they're shed. Better be careful, 'cause this ain't a bluff, he thinks at a split-second, when his eye caught spit threw at his shoulder, in the middle of rain. There's nothing to see here, said another soldier, yelling as the crowd agitated like the ocean and its waves in middle of a storm.
Don't you have nothing else to do? he begs the question, which improves nothing for better. I could have entered the building, helped the guy, so thought Dan, who is good at words as much as this Sir Fratley Irontail... how long he haven't saw him, here on ground. Been like this since five years ago, the Royal Guard spoke to himself, before he is brought back to work, protecting remains of a door from inquisitive eyes.
It's a mess, all because of an only person, an unknown that's about to enter history. Is that the only way to do it so? Thought Fratley, as he moved upstairs, to finally reach the rooftop and talk to this Johnny, who stood on the edge, by the tip of toes.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
— Johnny? – asked the Dragoon, who couldn't listen to an only heart at the moment. He was feeling a headache, too much people inside... – do you... feel alright?... I... I can help you...
— I wouldn't be pointing the finger, had I been you – said Johnny, looking over the shoulder to a figure on its knees, holding its head tight – you're the one who needs help.
— I... I... – geez, how convenient... hearing everyone was a chore for Fratley. He could stand up, but still, those hearts and voices were causing an ear ache. Must be the injured leg, the blood running out the wounds, it's flow... my senses are going crazy due it. The Dragoon field over my body has been broken, so he attempts to believe into something understandable, for a world that doesn't seem to make sense at all.
— If you are here to convince me to not do what I should, then you're wasting time – something in Johnny's voice disturbed the Dragoon, trying to concentrate. There was no fear, or any hesitation, as if he was being sincere. No, he can't be... May you offer me guidance, Reis.
— I understand you, Johnny – standing up, Fratley said in clear tone, hearing a heart. It belonged to himself, and that bloke – there are many voices in your head as well.
— How? You don't know me.
— I know. I felt this way once. Couldn't see, lost my father, my legs... but I didn't choose death. I learned to walk by myself again. I see people better than they do with their eyes. Please, listen before you-
— Before I jump? It won't hurt – he then turned around, to see that Knight, this if he cared to listen as well – I fell from the stairs once, as a kid. Had to lay on bed for a week until my bones healed, together of mother. May she rest in Peace. Grew up, then I found this girl, by name Kylie. We met, kissed, had a son before marriage, he died on her arms, the earth took his body. I stood at her side, sharing of same pain. Felt it was the right thing, the good to be done in these indecent times. Kylie was like mom. Now she's dead too. So, I thought... why not?
— It ain't an option, Johnny – shaken, Fratley tried to approach – my condolences for your child and Kylie.
— If you knew her... Kylie and I, we married today. The happiest day of our lifes, something happy was happening. We come home, I went inside, she stood out. Kylie liked to stare at clouds. When I buried our son, she looked to the skies. It is Luca's new home. Luca... Cute name, don't you think? For a piece of flesh, sure is. Then a creep killed her. Stabbed her at face. There was nothing wrong in that pretty face, or anything at all with Kylie. She never did anything wrong to deserve this. A pretty face, carved with another hole.
— My... – Fratley tried to convey something out his throat, but couldn't. The only warmth resided on a puke by now – I had no idea...
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— Neither I. Someone stalked us the whole way home, but I... I didn't cared. And I... I should had stood at her side – said Johnny, whose words slowed down, unlike that heartbeat. Cold sweat, blew away by a cold air that seems to come from the abyss – the guy... His skin was so thin as if a mere breeze could rip it apart.
— Any details? – Fratley asked. If there was a way to help Johnny, and a deceased.
— It's all I remember – reluctant, Johhny stands up, as he takes something jelly and round out his pocket. Something like – Kylie.. she had the most beautiful eyes I've ever seem. The assassin didn't went after those, but I did.
— You took the eyes out a corpse...
— But that scroundrel took her whole life. And he's free, doing whatever he wants.
— He who? if you can help me identify him better, maybe-
— Maybe who? Are you going to arrest him? – the answer was already at the tip of the Dragoon's tongue.
— If that's the right thing to do, I will – soon as he said it, Johnny looked behind. The last view seemed so close of his eyes.
— So, what will you do if I don't jump? Are you going to arrest me too?
— I do what's right – said Fratley, grabbing Johnny by the shoulder.
— Taking Kylie away wasn't any right, so why this shoudn't be? It's only me.
— You're wrong. There isn't only you here, Johnny. Look below, and see those people... no matter the size of their problems, whenever a bad thing happens to any of them, they'll remember your face. Remember what you did today – and soon as these words were said, both men walked out the edge, the people passing by disappearing in numbers, though a few remained, as if they enjoyed this crude act.
— See, you do not care for me as an individual.
— Sure I do! – Fratley bursted, but he felt no anger, or wanted to taint his words with such ink – there are millions I care about, and one of them is you. Don't you understand yet?
— I understand, very well – Johnny felt his guts wrapping up inside. Felt cold, still feeled something in skin, and inside. Was alive, after all. But she wasn't. By the tip of his claws, Kylie's eyes stared at him. Or seemed to. Without blinks, or good nights of rest, they had no life, were just objects. Desperately that the killer would take them away... he did it so on its place – you made me understand, showed your point, Knight. But...
— Johnny? – something in that 'but' didn't feel any right to Fratley. After all he did... resulting into nothing. No, don't think like this. Don't think like – Johnny!
— A roof... isn't made of an only edge – standing at the other side of the building, where a filthy alley lied at the bottom, Johnny looked right throught its doom.
— Johnny, please... – Fratley made an appeal, wondering if he could be listened this time. Raises his hand, which should had grabbed that arm instead of letting it get away – you're confused, hurt, want things to end right now... The easy way out ain't the best path to follow. I'll bring the bastard to justice, believe in me!
/\_/\/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\
— What makes you believe in fair justice, Knight? Why can't I believe that all my problems will be gone if I... I... – trepidation all over his skin, flowing to the ripples below feet, and a heart which belonged to someone walking over coal...
— You do not want to do this – things were all over the place for Fratley, his eyes welling up while staring at Johnny. It's hard to tell who will fall first – you do not need to. Still you have a choice...
— Choose life? Is that what you're going to say? – Johnny had no powers of predction, or any powers whatsoever. Only a life, which he used to give value – even if you're able to fulfill what you've said... there is nothing that can bring the dead back. Not even your magic, or whatever you have in hands that I do not. Now, if they understand what I have to say in the wrong way, Knight... then so be it. Everything is wrong with my life, this world...
For a moment, Sir Fratley's face froze in hesitation. A painful long moment, for a short fall.
...