Brian Eno - Slow Water
…
Meanwhile…
At the Jugend, where the spirit of old warriors travel across generations, a young Dragoon Knight lays her body against a cherry tree's trunk. It doesn't bring any comfort, Freya and her back knows, but it's better than staring at those hands.
Numb and senseless, if not for the warm blood dripping out her wounds, covered as well by the ooze spurting out the trunk; it ain't like honey, which is useful for wound care or whenever you want to bring a taste other than beans to your mouth. The stomach groans, claims for food, but all it gets is to distract its owner from the pain in hands. Freya doesn't want to look at the exposed injuries. Sure, she can support taking sight of a deep wound, but a bone… better let it stay inside you, unlike tears. Anyone who wouldn't cry right now would be a monster, or someone who trained enough.
It's only my first day, the Dragoon thinks. No, the one inside the outfit thought. If it was indeed the Dragoon, it would say 'keep going'. Right now, I hear it. If it was mom's voice, maybe I could follow what it says, but instead, Freya closes her eyes, and…
— … Taking a nap? – And so another voice echoed in her mind. No, it came from outside.
A blurred shadow amidst drowsy eyes stood upon Freya. That voice… – Edea? Where have you been?…
— In reality, which ain't your case. – Edea said, in a cold tone. – Are you done yet, Crescent? It ain't safe to stand near a tree during a storm.
— You tell me. – There was no storm nearby, as Freya watched the clouds. She thinks it would be interesting to see the sky crack down, or if a thunder hit her body right now, only for her to be able to redirect that powerful source of electricity away from that body. Can a Dragoon do it? Yes, it can. – Edea… teach me how to redirect the lightning out my body, or whatever is the name you call it by.
— 'Misfortune redirection'?
— Yes. Anything but this tree… – Said Freya, letting a tiny yawn out. Edea stared at her with that same apathy on face, or whatever is the word that suits a face drained of any emotion better.
— You're the one who should finish with the tree, not the other way round. – Yet, something in her voice revealed life.
— Trees aren't overwhelmed by sorrow. – The young Dragoon said, feeling a twitch of fingers. Tried to stand up, but her arms didn't respond. – They don't care if one of their twigs is cut. Maybe they do, but who are we to listen to?
— We are people. Living together with each other, occupying space, growing in numbers… That's why it's easy to chop a tree down whenever we want. – Edea said, as soon as she proceeded to pull Freya out of the 'comfort zone' by arms. That brief sensation reminded the young Knight of the way her brother Jack used to pull his finger out a hand. Magic tricks, for a world where the real magic is unsealed by pain. Edea's eyes are sealed of any compassion, which ain't the case of the gauze she's wrapping upon Freya's hands. – The reason why we do not take all trees down is because nothing is infinite, all beings need a space on their own, and because some of us care for plants as much as we do for one another.
— You are sounding like Sir Fratley. – The same Fratley who made my hands bleed this way, thought Freya. She already expected a harsh training, but to begin with this?…
— He taught me a lot. A good man, don't you think? – Edea asked, tightening the gauze once white in palms, both covered by a brown smudge below.
— Barely I know him. And if he's that good, my hands…
— Only your hands? He's good. Nice bracelet. Lapis-lazuli… from Fratley?
— Yes. He gave it to me. Just his way of saying 'have a good mood', 'be confident', because if it sheds any luck…
— You are lucky to train with the best, Crescent.
— The best? I can't feel my fingers.
— Good, because had you felt the needle…
— The needle? – Freya looked at her fingers, their surface covered by sutures. If she couldn't feel the needle, then by staring at those green lines…
— You should stare at something else, like you did with my face all along. – Said Edea, who acknowledged that there was something unique on her face. Maybe a first impression issue, thought Freya, since the driest of the flowers share a scent. A blank wall as well.
— I saw my skeleton, Captain. I… I wasn't supposed to see it.
— Well, have you ever been into a hospital, Crescent? – Suddenly, Edea's tone changed. It's the only thing in her that does change. – … to not be able to tell who's alive and who's dead, to slip in feces and blood on the floor… it ain't a nice thing, but you don't see me complaining. So, stop whining and get that tree down.
— But with my hands!? – Said Freya, trembling in both her words and feet. – That's… that's impossible.
— Know what else is impossible? This rain. Yet, it's here, falling and falling. And look at the mirror, and tell yourself that you are not a rat, girl. A rat doesn't differ from one another, they cannibalize their own sons, but we know the law and the punishment those who disobey the law deserve. That's why we don't crawl naked around these streets. That's the reason why we wear clothes, but a Dragoon ain't only a coat!
— Ouch! – The pain in her arms is gone, all taken somewhere else. Not my head, or my heart, but… it was then that Freya's helmet began to weigh a lot, and she had no choice but to lay her forehead against the trunk. – Can I break this trunk with my head? My feet? Anything?
— You can break anything that belongs to your body through training, Crescent. Except your wit. – For Edea, to play tough ain't much of a game, but a thing easily to be done as to throw any rock in a lake to see it bounce.
— Alright. – Only round rocks bounce, the others sink, so thought Freya, who still couldn't feel any of her fingers by each hit. – It should hurt, Edea. It's wrong not to hurt.
— It's your mind ignoring the pain. That's the goal of this training. From where else the strength of a mother holding a whole ceiling just so it doesn't fall on her sons comes from?
— Is it the same source of an assassin without a heart? – Said Freya, with a fist upon the trunk, each hit felt like hitting water again and again.
— No, Crescent. It ain't. Some criminals can ignore pain, for sure, but it's different from my previous example. You know, when you give up pain, but still care for another… that's what I meant to say.
— A day ago, Ezekiel said something about a criminal dressed as a Dragoon Knight, murdering people.
— Rumours.
— Rumours? With all those reports he came up in hand, upon his desk, isolated cases…
— Isolation such as a wall covered by bullet holes, but you closed your eyes by the moment you pulled the trigger. Well, I understand what Ezekiel passes through, an only man doing the job of a hundred, and not being against his entirely, I know how hard it is to tell a lie from a half-lie, and a truth from a half-truth. Truth is that sometimes people report members of the Jugend because they saw one of us lead astray by our powers, and because it's easy to do a report. Understand?
— A single slap in the face is enough for them to do an abuse report, that's what you mean? – The scent of sweat floated to Freya's nostrils. Not even the amount of rain falling is enough for the scent to be gone, or what brought it in the first place. Though, better let sweat go out than blood.
— Some people think we are the reason why crime exists, though we began to exist before it. They don't understand, even when we wear these coats so they can understand what we are capable of doing.
— Like standing on any water surface?
— Yes. To think we show our faces in order to tell that anyone can do what we do…
— But you hide the scars. – And in your case, a smile too, but Freya kept it to herself. She can be daring like Hrist at times, but self-preservation comes first.
— Now quit the small talk, if you please. – Said Edea, followed by a THUMP! If there was a word alone to describe the hitting of a trunk, perhaps that would be the answer…
— I'd rather talk than listen to my bones shattering piece by piece.
— And I'd rather watch you fall apart while doing my nails. –… THUMP! And another hit, this time louder and more aggressive than Edea's voice. The only thing that shed a noise, or dared to. Freya didn't want to turn her neck, or worse, get it done by those hands belonging to Edea. She knows the captain won't do it, but the tension doesn't let the right thoughts to be articulated. – But I am a good person, you caught me on a good day, girl. I'm not angry, so you know. Just demanding.
The trunk… It wasn't hollow inside, None of Freya's wishes came true, the world already had that shape before she was even born. Her fingers can barely touch one another, after being used all day along. And what Edea said doesn't help. This if she said a thing, until now. Those fingers… it was as if they didn't belong to her body anymore, that same blood flowing through her arms was drained out by their tips, that they were about to rot and fall down…
— Enough, Crescent. – Edea proclaimed. A crooked neck, watching the grass growing between toes… of her feet and hands. Fallen, the young Dragoon's ears stand tall, once they heard a voice from behind. There's only Edea, but it's hard to not close the eyes, let them be sunken by darkness, tempting. Darkness that covered those scars, the cracks on the wall shedding of light. – Hmmm… Next time, better use your knees.
— Next time!? – With conscience and blood left, Freya is able to stand on both feet. Only her hands to be fixed, unlike that appealing face asking for fresh air. How ironic for it to come out of that cherry tree…
— Yes. It's over for today. Rest, and come back tomorrow.
— But-
— It's an order. – Freya swallowed hard when she heard those words. For a moment, she couldn't say anything. Had nothing against such order, except for…
— But if I leave now…
— I'll tell Ezekiel about your leaving. – Edea pointed to the entrance. She could move a finger, after all. – I'll notify him of today's test results. You did well for an initiate, but I am not very impressed. I am beyond impressed.
— Thanks… – Freya had other words in mind, and a not so appropriate hand gesture to Burmecia's old traditions that she could not do at the moment.
— Know that you can leave the Jugend anytime you want. It's your choice.
— And what about the duty hours?
— You aren't on duty yet, child. This is only training. – Only training, which took so much… Freya tries to focus her mind, to breath with her nose instead of the mouth, both dry.
— So, if I never come back… – Fading into distance, the red Dragoon leaves the Jugend in doubt and pain.
— You will. – Same doubt answered by Edea. The pain, however, has only begun. – It's what you want, stubborn like that.
…
Later that day…
— Oi, sis! – Said Jack, standing at the market street, as well recognizing the color red over this distance between us. It could only belong to me. Or mother…
— Hi, Jack. – And that awful scent… it could only belong to my brother. Not that I am perfumed right now. – Selling fish?
— And scales too. Dragon scales. Want one?
— No, thanks. – I really didn't want anything that could flay my skin right now. I just wanted to go back home and forget today existed. – If you please…
— Hey, hey! Are you going to pass by like that, sis? – Jack furthered his step towards me. – Don't you want to listen to me, or any of my offers?
— I'm not interested.
— Why? Not everyone shares this opportunity I'm giving you! – He insists, but I don't care.
— Does a Dragoon get a discount?
— Well, in this case…
— Then ask someone else, Jack. I'm not a Dragoon yet.
— But you are a child of one.
— You too, and look where you're at. – No matter what I say to Jack, he follows me. I am not even running away from him, just walking.
— Hey, I know what's wrong… Not enough fiber makes you act like that! – Only you are smiling, Jack. – But enough joking, you can talk to me whenever you feel… well, like that. It ain't good for you, sis.
— I know – I still haven't shown Jack my hands, hidden in my pockets. They look nowhere as worse as they did before, but I refuse to show them to anyone for now.
— You never let up. – Jack smiled again, but this time, it wasn't due to mockery. Call him a bastard if you want, but he's yours. A good bastard, and I dare to say, a good brother. – I advise you to relax a bit, Freya, or else you'll die from all the stress.
— I'll do it.
— Okay. Now, can you hold this bucket? – Jack offered me a wooden bucket, full of fish's heads. A good brother, you say…
— I will try, not because you asked. – I just want to feel my fingers again. Carefully, I took the bucket with only one hand. It ain't that heavy, but my fingers can barely be close to each other. Somehow, I am able to hold the bucket, maybe for Jack. – What are you going to do with all those heads?
— To discard ain't an option. – Said Jack, who came out of a tent carrying carrots in a basket, which looked like mutilated fingers of a deceased beast. – These ugly carrots, I'll tell you… ugly, but delicious! They are so cheap, yet I don't see many coming in to buy them.
— Do you feed Freyr with those?
— Of course, sis! If you knew how much feeding an only baby costs… – Jack didn't notice the dirty bandages wrapped in my hand, or any of those green lines. He just kept talking about having a son with Otterley, who used to be our nursemaid. I just accept it, like the rest; it ain't my life, but someone else's. A common life, not that I do not mind having one. It's just that a life without nobody is boring, and the only way I can be with someone, or millions of them… – Now that he grew teeth, my boy wants variety.
— Don't you think it's too early to feed the baby with solid food?
— If I could, he would be drinking water by now. You know, Ottis ain't always home, taking care of other's sons… See, Burmecian babies are a weird thing. Anything that comes out of an only month pregnancy may be, if you think about it. We learn things so quickly, only to forget them as we grow. And Freyr isn't that young, sis. He's five, six months old. Don't know why I had to hide him from you and mom, maybe I felt too ashamed.
— Why did you feel ashamed? – I asked, to which Jack's ears twitched. And that look on its face, too…– To have a son is a gift for many and a huge responsibility. Well, whose responsibility is greater than shaping a newborn soul?
— I… I can't explain. Yeah, how could I explain that I fell in love with my nursemaid? That is… it's wrong somehow, even though it isn't. The age gap doesn't bother me that much. It really shouldn't be a reason for me to worry about. So, together with Ottis, we wanted to grow a peace of mind before any of us let mom know her son brought a grandchild to this world, not for her, but… forget it. Know how much of an exaggeration it would be to call Freyr by accident, understand?
— As much as it would be for you to worry about these little things.
— Yeah. After telling ya to chill, to hear these things out of me. – So Jack looked around, left to right. Then, he took a glimpse of my face. – I wonder when Freyr will open its eyes. Should have, by now.
— It's a thing he can only do by himself. – For someone who used to be a fulltime brat, Jack grew a lot. – Good to know you're raising your son well.
— To be born in this filthy world is already a well-earned accomplishment, sis. – Jack said, and now that I perceived he was bothered as much as I.
— Why do you say that?
— Well, sis… today, I saw something horrible. A few quarters away, a man stood on the roof. He looked below, walked in and out, and more people were getting in at the streets. I was there too, couldn't get out, seeing that figure who wanted to jump, and I… oh, I don't know. I just stood there, watching… It was as if I was liking it, sis.
— Don't say these things. The Jack I know would not ever enjoy violence in a sickening way. – I said, and then I thought about our childhood and how my brother and his friends would hunt for Basilisks on weekends. My first kill… shooting a stone through a Basilisk's skull, his brain popped out and he was no longer alive. That thing, that nuisance who turns people into stone, did it really deserve such horrendous fate?
— Speaking of violence, tell me what they did with your hands. – Only now that Jack noticed…
— CRESCENT! – I trembled, as soon as I heard my name from a third party. And I knew to whom that voice belonged. – What a surprise!…
— You don't need to shout, Hrist. - Instead of me, it was Sir Fratley who said it so. – I am having a bad ear ache.
— Oh, sorry. – Said Hrist, who provided support for Sir Fratley's limping feet. In other words, Hrist was his cane, but dare to say it in front of her face. – It's just that… oh, what the hell, weren't you supposed to be punching the tree until now, Crescent?
— Punch the tree? – Jack asked, looking at Hrist, then back at me. My hands, specifically. – Is that the treatment given to your delicate hands?
— Delicate? Huh, those nails deserved to be cut. – Said Hrist, to which Jack turned back to her.
— And you would enjoy it.
— Would I? Look, this was Sir Fratley's idea all along.
— Really? From you, Fratley? – Jack seemed less confused, and more pissed. I know where this is getting. – A guy who couldn't even hurt a fly, no matter how much blood it drew out of you.
— Jack… – I tried to hold his arm, pulling him back. In this situation, the arm is the least of the things that hurt.
— Do I know you? – Asked Sir Fratley, who had no idea where he was.
— As much as I know you, pal. – And I didn't want to be here. I just want to go home. – Look, Frattie, I know you are a good person.
— And a lawyer that can sue for defamation, don't forget that! – Hrist said, with a devious smile.
— May I continue, Hrist Chatterbox?
— Chardonnay. Yes, you can. If you insist this to be a way for old friends to reunite again…
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
— Well, Sir Fratley… In no way I'm criticizing your work, but please, there are other ways a girl can grow a bit of muscle. What you did with sis, I'll never forgive you if you do it again, not without saying 'I'm sorry', or 'would you care for some tea?'
— Jack… - Sir Fratley said, but there was something off in his voice. He didn't look at my brother's face, just the ground. – your heart is beating a lot… so full of life. Why waste heartbeats like this? Why be moved on by hatred?…
— What!? – Caught by surprise, Jack gasped. – What are you saying?
— Get used to it. – To which Hrist explained, with that same smile on face. – Fratley can hear your intestines too, but a heart is enough to tell you're not fine. Also, hanging out for free, Crescent?
— Speak to your father. He confirmed my exit. Besides, Edea told me to rest.
— Did she? – Hrist pouted her lips while looking at me. – You're lying.
— She ain't lying, Hrist. I can hear her heart. Yours, Jack's, mine…
— How convenient. – Both Jack and Hrist reacted to what Sir Fratley said before. The two looked to each other, in a rare moment of synchronicity.
— You took the words out of my mouth…
— Boy, I can take more than spit out of it.
— Boy? I am older than you. – Jack giggled at Hrist's threat. Courage or idiocy? Who knows.
— Don't remind me. Come on, Fratley… we have a bigger fish, not this sardine to care about. – With a pull on the shoulder of Sir Fratley, Hrist and the blind Dragoon left the street. Now I have only the rain and my brother to care about.
— You didn't have to do it, Jack.
— Oh, come on, sis. I was at your side.
— That wasn't your voice. – I feel a shaking travel my body, the same itching I feel when I am about to run, or punch someone. But I do my best to resist.
— I worked a lot, sis. As a matter of fact, my back is killing me.
— That's no excuse for being so rude with Sir Fratley. – I said, to which Jack had no reply. He must be feeling the same itching. – Also, have you seen his face? He seemed shocked.
— Yeah… I perceived it too. Vulnerable, out his mind, and I took it as an advantage. – Jack replied, following a deep, and heavy breath - but after seeing your hands, I had to say something. Now, I don't hate Fratley; I really don't want to. And if there's a thing I hate… is to hate. Someone, or something. Like rocks between toes.
— I appreciate that you care for me, Jack. But please, not so much.
— Alright. Next time I see Frattie, I'll tell him what I really have to say. – I appreciate the optimism coming out of my brother, shown in his face and words. – As for Hrist… Well, she's like that. You can't trust someone whose hair covers their eyes.
— And what about me?
— You are my sister. We share an unbreakable bond. – Yes, we do. – Hey, now that you're out training, what about dinner?
— Dinner? – My stomach claims for food, which I'll humbly accept. Yet, something bothers me. – Why not? But I won't be able to hold anything after this basket, not even a fork. So…
— Don't worry. I'll hold it for you, like I do with Freyr. – And then Jack closed his fist, waving it in all directions like a poisoned fly, coming to my face. Gosh, that voice and smugness… – Now, just open your mouth and watch out for the Dragoooon!
— Shut up, Jack.
