Brian Eno - Two Rapid Formations

…

— Welcome to the Jugend, ladies. – Said a Burmecian Dragoon, who stood before Freya, Hrist and Alba. He wore a deep royal blue coat and a pair of yellow scarves tied to his neck. – I hope you have a nice stay.

— Thanks. – Third day at the Dragoon academy, and Freya Crescent is still getting used to new faces.

— And you are? – Meanwhile, Hrist Chardonnay knows every single one of them. Well, almost.

— My name is Gizamaluke. – The black-furred rodent knight presented himself, with a royalty tone in speech. – The fifth son of Master Gizamaluke's lineage, protector of the sacred Grotto, ruler of Water's gift, grandson of Gizamaluke IV, who fought alongside King Graham in the Battle of Crystal Teardrops, defeated a horde of thousands Grand Dragons on its own, married a woman called Lydia and-

— Nice, nice - said Hrist, clapping while interrupting the heartfelt conversation of her comrade. – Very nice, Geezermaluke.

— Pardon? – Gizamaluke is confused by the young lady's attitude. – You called me… Geezermaluke?

— Why, isn't that your name? – Hrist smiles.

— No, it's not. I am Gizamaluke, the Fifth son-

— Oh, here we go again… – The purple Dragoon kept a smile at face, with her eyes staring at the sycamore tree and the clouds above.

— Can I continue, please? – Gizamaluke demanded attention to his words.

— There's a thing called monologue, you see. – Hrist paid more attention to the gray skies than anything coming out of Gizamaluke.

— Nice scarf. – Said Freya, whose eyes stared at Gizamaluke's uncanny scarfs. They were like octopus tentacles, and the wind made them look as if they were sentient somehow. – Is it made of hundreds of beetle's guts?

— Why, yes. – Gizamaluke said, as he laid his claw and gently touched his own scarf. – It's made of the finest 30000 red palm weevil's entrails. How did you know?

— Ezekiel owns one too.

— Do you know Ezekiel Chardonnay?

— He is the headmaster of the Jugend, and was a close friend of mom's…

— He's also my dad. – Hrist's mind came out of the clouds, right as she turned her eyes to the so-called Gizamaluke.

— Excúse me, but I'm talking with the white-haired lady, please.

— (Gee, what a polite way to say shut up…) – Said Hrist to herself, while holding her breath and crossing arms. She'd also swollen her cheeks on purpose whenever the feelings of anger and disappointment hit inside. – (Don't you agree, Alba?)

— [INDEED]. – Alba spoke to Hrist through her telepathic flames.

— (Oh, how am I supposed to be angry while near you…) – Despite the headache which follows, Hrist enjoys Alba's company.

— So, you are Gizamaluke? – As a kid, Freya heard the old tales of Burmecia before sleeping. Some of them were less fantastic than others, a few which sounded more like prayers than epics, though they had quite an impression on the little mouse girl through the years.

— The Fifth one, my lady. At your pleasure. – Gizamaluke said, taking off his onyx helmet as he proceeded to kiss the crimson Dragoon's left arm. – Freya Creedence?

— Crescent. Oh my… – Freya felt a shiver sent at skin, together of a cold and warm sensation. – I am flattered.

— And yes, I can guarantee I'm from a noble lineage, young miss. – Gizamaluke put the winged helmet back on his head, as he smelled his scarf like a rose's petal. – My ancestors were responsible for the foundation of this well-regarded academy we're at. See that Dragon's face between the woods? The one covered in moss? It was a gift from King Heidegger to Gizamaluke II, one of the greatest headmasters of the Jugend.

— As great as daddy? – Once again, Hrist found a way to meddle in the talk.

— Oh, you're Ezekiel's daughter. – And Gizamaluke stares at her, with a surprised look following a gut reaction. – I heard about you. You have, ahem… quite a reputation around.

— A well-earned reputation, I must say. – Hrist said, smiling with her eyes shut.

— Not quite so. – Gizamaluke replied. – From what I heard, I had the impression that you were a savage beast in Burmecian attire.

— What? Imagine… – Said Hrist, with a jaded expression. – Me, a savage?

— You broke the Jugend's floor. – Gizamaluke said, frowning at her. – Damage to property.

— Yes, I admit I was too careless. We all have bad days in our lives. – Hrist said, smiling and sniffing. – You smell nice

— What?

— My friend here told me you smell nice. – Following Gizamaluke's confused stare, Hrist pointed to Alba. She gave a shy little giggle.

— Okay… – Eventually, Gizamaluke stopped thinking. – Anyway, I suppose you're in here for training.

— No, we're in here for a casual visit. – Freya said, while appreciating the view she had of the gardens around the Jugend. To think they barely remained unchanged for centuries… – It's not like we'll soon beat each other to death, is it?

— Hey, I am the one supposed to be sarcastic, what's that? – Usually, Hrist isn't friendly at all with others.

— Sigh… Just feeling a bit nervous. – And Freya is supposed to be the tough one, by the eyes of many.

— [N][O][B][O][D][Y][IS][P][E][R][F][E][C][T]. – Said Alba, in a moment of clarity.

— Who said that we would beat each other to death? What the hell, Crescent? – Said Hrist, outraged. –Guess no one can pretend to be tough forever.

— Beat to death… Who said that to you? – Even Gizamaluke is afraid.

— Well… you? – Freya stared at Hrist with accusing eyes.

— Me!? – Hrist's hair creeped, in an agonizingly surreal way. – Come on, I was joking.

— Given the way you said it all, I thought it was true.

— Yeah, you thought… WRONG! – Hrist yelled, brushing her crispy and irritated hair with a claw.

— Was it some morbid sense of humor? Nothing relatively new, coming out of you.

— Nah. I'd never harm you, darling. A cute like you, who would!? – Hrist said, patting Alba's head. – Oh, did you say anything, Crescent?

— Were you listening to me?

— I'm sorry, but Alba and I were trading knowledge.

— "Trading knowledge"? Is it another word for gossip? – It was clear from beginning that Hrist acts weird near Alba, and Freya wonders whether or not it's because of her fire powers

— Well, maybe. Does it matter to you?

— …Not at all. – Freya wondered whose kind of knowledge the two knights were sharing to one another.

— I won't lie, you'll get injured for sure. More than you did back when you were beating up a poor, innocent tree to its demise. – Hrist said, loud and clear. – Right, Giza?

— Gizamaluke. And yes, I can confirm it hurts, but no students have perished in training since… since… 1480. – Said Gizamaluke, who recited an old Burmecian law. – "In case a Dragoon student meets an unfortunate demise on training, the family has the right for monetary compensation"; 50,000 burmons per head, which equals 150,000 gil nowadays.

— Interesting. – Freya wondered to herself.

— Speaking of earning a javelin out of a tree's trunk, Gizamaluke the Third had to go through the same ordeal of yours l in order to get his Juglans javelin, and with that very weapon, he single-handedly crushed a whole armada of Alexandrian soldiers! Impressive, isn't it?

— Really impressive. – Freya was not amazed at all, though the child within nurtured those stories with fondness. All of sudden, she heard a tiny squeak noise behind Gizamaluke. – Excuse me, but… is that a tail between your scarves?

— Oh! – Not only a rat tail, but a little boy's yawning face popped up out of it as well. Gizamaluke's expressions changed when he stared at the young fellow in arms. – Finally you woke up…

— Who's that? He's d-d-d-adorable! – Hrist flushed after looking at the toddler, her cheeks turned red like plums.

— Behold! You are in the presence of Gizamaluke VI! – Gizamaluke's sight was filled with pride. As for his son's eyes… he blinked and looked around, confused and unaware of where he was. – One day, he might become the King of Burmecia.

— Oh, for sure. All hail to our majesty, whose mouth is dripping with saliva. – Despite the comment, Hrist found the little Gizamaluke to be rather cute.

— It's his first day at the Jugend, and my heartbeat is all over the place.

— Is that why you wear all these scarfs? They sure look comfy. – Freya looked at Gizamaluke VI, holding on to his father.

— He likes them. – Eventually, tears rolled down from Gizamaluke's eyes. – Sob… guess fatherhood eventually comes to all of us.

— It sure does, but I don't pretend to take care of any brats. – Said Hrist, presenting herself to the youngest member of the Gizamaluke family. – Hi, Luke!

— Luke? Who's Luke?

— Yeah. He's Luke, and you are Giza. – Hrist's words left Gizamaluke V with a vague and foggy look. – Now be a good Ma… Giza.

— Right… – Gizamaluke had no clear idea if he was being fooled by Hrist or not. Whatever that was. – The young today… I don't get them at all.

— Hrist is in a good mood, it's all you have to get. – Freya said, leaving her usual quiet and insular self . – Trust me, you don't want to upset her.

— Of course I do not. – Said Gizamaluke. The knight in royal dark blue colors felt a pull of hair out a tiny claw. – Huh? Oh, that's you. You want to say something, son?

— Daddy. – The boy stared at his father with lucid eyes, his voice filled with joy, and then… – I poop.

— You poop? What do you… – Immediately, Gizamaluke V covered his nose. – If you excuse me, I'll have to, to… Where are my servants when I need them? No matter, a Gizamaluke is always there to do the dirty job! Hmm… that didn't sound right, but you know what I mean.

— Yes, we do. – Hrist said, waving her hand to the Gizamaluke rushing inside the academy. – Smell you later!

— That Gizamaluke guy is a walking info dump, don't you think? – Said Gray Rhinehart, throwing a dice in the air as he walked outside the doors of Jugend. – Guy is so full of himself for belonging to a royal lineage and stuff.

— Hello, info dump number two. – Hrist looked at Gray, with her eyes covered by her brown strands. – I don't blame Giza, though. Had I been born in a cradle of gold, I too would act like my life is awesome and tell it to everyone else.

— You surely were born in one of these, Hairy. – Gray could not stop throwing the dice in the air. He was unsure of what to say and what to do next. As the dice's sides fall on his claw. – Four. Well, if not, your father afforded you with the best. Hi, Auburn! Hi, Freya spelled without the 'j'!

— Hello… – Freya closed her eyes and took a heavy breath. It's going to be a rough day, for sure.

— Five. Yeah, the neighbor's grass is always greener.

— For once in your life, could you talk like a normal Burmecian being? – The throw of dice is getting on Hrist's nerves.

— Normal, you say? Is there anything more repugnant than a muroid rodent being assimilated to an erect hominid and being compared to a filthy rat or either a disgusting human? – Said Gray in a cynical way. As the dice told him to be. He throws them once again, and gets a number. – Two. Oh, my apologies. I got all worked out in front of you, pretties.

— Pretty, he said? – Hrist was not convinced at all that Gray took a risk on his own. – Sometimes I want to believe you borrow of self-esteem, Mr. Rhinehart. Either that, or you lack everything, including shame.

— Three. – Another dice thrown by Gray, he gets another result. – You drink water, while I drink anarchy. As for self-esteem… it's all fake and an illusion! That's what cool is about. That's what charisma is! Don't you agree with me?

— [N][U][T][S]. – Alba shakes her head in silence.

— You heard what Alba said. – Hrist crossed her arms.

— I heard. – Said Gray, feeling a headache. – Ouch, it hurts!…

— It hurts because it's the truth. You are, indeed, nuts. Tell me how you became a dragon knight to begin with.

— I signed a paper, like everyone else. – Gray replied. – I did the tests, like everyone else. I did everything right, like the dice told me.

— Do you need this freaking dice to breathe?

— Well… – With a single throw of his pair of dice, by chance Gray's been afforded an answer. Even if it's not a clear one. – Gosh… see you later. I'm gonna eat some, eugh… snails.

— Have fun! – For a brief moment, Hrist felt the knight's frustration.

— He didn't specify if he was willing to eat raw or cooked snails. – Freya said, concerned about Gray and the word 'limit'.

— You see, Gray is like the kid who got hammered in the head by playing too much Truth or Dare.

— Hammered by life, as it seems. – This place is full of eccentric people, thought Freya after seeing Gray hunt for his food in the garden. – Good thing is, he doesn't take things at face value.

— [T][A][K][E][T][H][I][N][G][S][A][T][F][A][C][E][V][A][L][U][E].

— Oooh! – Freya felt Alba's words burn inside her brain. She is miles away from getting used to that sort of thing.

— Thanks, Alba! You caught me off guard too! – A bit of blood poured out Hrist's nose. – What were you thinking? Oh, you were imitating Freya's words, was it fun? Was it? Uh huh… Right, why did you do that!?… Oh, you were testing your powers. See? At the tip of my finger, dripping red, do you see?… This is what happens when you try to talk with people who are not used to your kind of talk. You hear me? Please, don't do that ever again!

— Aren't you being a bit harsh with her, Hrist? – Despite the migraine on head, Freya slowly recovers her equilibrium.

— Oh! I'm sorry, Alba. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. – Hrist spoke softly, before hugging her flaming friend. – I know how much you want to talk with your voice, sing to the birds crossing the midsummer skies, have people understand who you are without being afraid of your delightful skills. You said you're sorry?… Okay, I accept your apologies. You like Freya, huh? Well, she is pretty, I can agree. Funny? As funny as punching chayotes. You didn't mean to, I know that! No apologies, it's fine. Boop! Got your nose, hehehehe… Boop! Got it again! Hahahahaha…

— The power of friendship, everyone. – Freya could not stand Hrist's way of treatment to someone as powerful as Alba.

— Alright, whose snail should I eat? – Gray came out of the grass, with his body covered in snails.

— Eugh… Why are you asking me? – Hrist felt disgusted, though crystal snails looked pretty on their own. Their shimmering shells, at least. – Don't you have a dice to give you the answers?

— Well, I asked the dice, and he told me to ask you.

— Really!? You've got to be kidding me… – Hrist looked at Freya and Alba. Both shrugged. – Okay, why don't you ask your stupid dice if you really want to eat these snails? They did nothing wrong…

— If you say so. – With the dice, Gray could be more than the empty shell of himself and become someone else, whose life isn't dictated by strict rules other than the throw of a dice. – Odd goes to yes, even to no. Here we go… no? Thank God. Oops, I mean, the Dice.

— That makes us even. - Hrist said, feeling relieved. So did Gray.

— I guess. – He said, with a face of disgust. – I think one snail came inside my mouth, argh! They don't taste good at all, what was I thinking!? Whatever, I'll get rid of them.

— Finally, you're thinking for yourself. – Said Hrist, more relieved than ever. – Like when you did back when you were a three year-old who didn't pee in your pants.

— What else can I say? I'm only human. Burmecian, I mean. – Gray's thoughts were a mess. – A human that happens to be a rat… I am flawed, living of a paradoxical existence in itself, I am lots of things while I wish I could be none of them. Phew! It'll take some time to let it go off these snails, ooh! So, be seeing you at training… or NOT! Aaaah!

— This place is full of eccentric people. – Freya confirmed to herself.

— Eccentric, you say? – Hrist said, aware of the people within the Jugend. – Gray… he's just a weirdo. A goof, tragic and misunderstood weirdo. That, or he's just pathetic. We'll see if he's good or not at training. Same for you, Crescent.

— I'll be ready. – Freya shared a burning and striking look in face. The very confidence of a brave warrior from birth.