Mogwai - Superheroes Of BMX


July 19th, 1778

Still winter?

By the window, nothing comes in, other than the acrid smell of each morning. Rain and a bug splash on a window. It must be amusing to hear them hitting the glass for someone who has nothing to do, which ain't my case. To be fair, I would break this window with a stone to have fun with myself, if not I was tasked to arrest those who break the law.

The law is like a window; fragile, easy to be broken, but we need it. It's cold outside, I can feel chills in my spine, my body trembling, despite being covered in layers and layers of blankets. My day hasn't begun, and my teeth are gritting. I refuse to leave bed, even knowing I should. The clock at the counter keeps making that 'tick' noise, but it ain't as bad as knowing which hours are by listening to the church's bells. By bad, I mean when you get caught by surprise.

Either the bells of new life, or the bells of a life gone. What counts is the spirit, doesn't it? I share no spirit at the moment. I mean, life has a blind sense in all things, or else, how come flowers flourish at the coldest of winters? They just do. They do not have a need to know, they just… grow. And you, on other hand, let gravity pull your body upon this bed as the apple who falls out a tree.

Not all apples that fall on earth are rotten, not all angels turn to devils. Sure, I can get out of bed without April's aid, but sometimes I let her and that flowery scent in. And so all my questions about laws are gone by her touch. Gone for a moment, soon as I recover my moral sense, intact as Raymie's legs. That is if he doesn't stop running on the stairs.

— My, my… Yesterday Raymie could barely walk, now he's here running.

— Good for him. – I picture Raymie running with a smile that sheds the same flexibility as his mother's frown. – What's the matter? You have here someone who knows how to use medicinal herbs and the Dragoon very well when it comes to healing.

— That's not it, Fratley. – Said April, as I wore my clothes. Given her tone, and that she didn't sleep last night. – I mean, when I heard what happened to my son, I was worried to death. I knew something would happen as I stood out. Always happens. It's as if I'm asking for it.

— Don't blame yourself, April. You can't be at two places at the same time.

— I know. I even told Ingus to watch his brother. Where was he to watch Raymie?

— Kids are all independent, in a way.

— That doesn't mean they are free to do whatever they want, even something that brings harm. Simply knowing about danger doesn't mean it can be overcome at any time, at will, and now, seeing Raymie act reckless as this, after all… don't you ever feel a need to teach a lesson that stays? – I think it's still April who I am talking to, sitting at my side. She ain't of the kind that pinches ears, and I know very well when we can resist or not the temptation.

— To harm a kid will earn its attention, but not its respect. Now, if you want them to be taught respect… they just learn how to.

— In most cases, you mean.

— All of them, April. See, the law is here to force people to act in the right way, and ethic makes them act right without anyone looking. Also, I see nothing wrong with Raymie running around. It's a thing I would like to do by myself.

— Include the stairs, and you see what's wrong. – I understand April's complaints. Most of the time I'm out home, taking care of bigger issues. Though, I can't let this one pass. – Well, anyone would give a slap in my place.

— I wouldn't.

— Then what do you suggest? Sit and talk doesn't seem to do that much.

— It's the better option. – I said, between screams coming from the kitchen. In my case, an uproar followed of stomachs singing along the hunger dissonance. I focus somewhere else, like into a blood-sucker mosquito's wings. I wonder what are the karmic implications of killing it with a slap. Well, that's not his blood, but mine. Then I heard a slight 'coo' coming out of little Phoebe, crawling to my room. In this case, to her mother's arms. – You know… in order to see things like I do, first I learned how to speak.

— If we could talk to babies…

— We can teach them. How are you doing, Phoebe? – I look at her, and I wonder if she thinks I am playing hide and seek forever, even with the eyes open.

— If there's a thing I haven't been taught is to be able to flee the crib. This one wakes up whenever she wants, doesn't she?

— Wait until she brings her boyfriend home.

— Someone with good taste, I expect.

— I may be able to hear Phoebe more than you can, but understand what she wants ain't the same as what she needs.

— Isn't it a bit invasive? To hear someone from inside all time… – April offers me that look of doubt. Not like Phoebe's, who is curious about the world around. – Don't you ever, uh…

— Feel ashamed? I do. Don't worry, April. I hear the body, not the mind - I try to stand up, sticking my arm to reach the hat. I think it's on my left, hanging on the hatstand. There it is - though, I agree it can be invasive, so here's my humble apologies.

— Oh, you don't need to. I am fine. Am I?

\/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_

— Your heart says it all, April. – It follows a pattern, but suddenly it jumps. Well, already expected of someone dissected by my ears. Desiccated… What an inappropriate, though at same time, very appropriate word to describe what I do with everything, and everyone.

Later that morning…

Second day at the Jugend. Here we go again…

— Good morning, apprentice. – And Hrist awaits me at the entrance. I mean, who else would she wait for? Looking like that, bored, ready for a fight.

— Good morning. – As soon as I come near her, I raise a fist, only to shake her hand. It's cold, like her sight.

— Your hand looks fine. – She said, pressing it fiercely.

— Is that all the strength you shed?

— If you want more, lemme know. – No thanks, I don't want to. Letting go off that fist easily won't happen again.

— What I really do want to know is how my hand got healed, Hrist. – I said, as we walked together inside the gates of Jugend.

— How would I know? You tell me. – I showed my palms to Hrist, clean of any marks.

– I have no idea how it happened. All I know is that my hands were really badly injured, and Edea came in and sewed them. After a while, they came like this.

— So Edea only healed your hands after you almost lost them… – Shedding of hair and cynicism, that's Hrist. A pretty lavender scent, too.

— I don't think she would ever-

— But she did. I said our tutors were mean before, Crescent. Hear me? – I heard, loud and clear.

— For someone you call mean, you get along with Sir Fratley very well.

— A person can have more than a side. But don't get fooled. – Thinking about the reason Hrist has so much hair, I wonder what lies inside. I said before that her sight is cold, but I haven't looked at it today.

— I know. – She doesn't understand why I am smiling. Do not bother to ask if I am in a good mood. I think she wants to see the worst of me, but that's not right. What Hrist thinks of being her worst, too. – Despite this attitude, you are cute inside.

— Huh, inside? Am I missing something, because I live in reality.

— What is reality for someone who jumps buildings taller than trees?

— I can do more than jump, Crescent.

— Don't tell me you can walk in thin air. – Just a wild guess. And I can already hear an 'yes' coming out.

— Not really, but I can.

— Oh, Surface Tension, I see. – Even Hrist thinks it would be silly to walk in air literally without an explanation. – I already saw you doing it.

— Wanna see even more, Crescent? – As if I had an option to choose between yes or no… – Look at this.

— A bubble? – That's a soap bubble Hrist blew out her breath, and hands shaped like a circle. – Better in hands than in your nose.

— Shut up. Your voice is disturbing the bubble! – Only the bubble? In a blink, we saw it floating away, not even falling in the ground, or bursted by a thick raindrop.

— Is that so? You can blow bubbles in the rain?

— What were you expecting? That I blew it in your eyes?

— Certainly you would, if you were a mean kid. – I said, staring at Hrist who offered a menacing stare back.

— You look at me as if I was one cruel little darling.

— I can't forget.

— Neither I – Hrist can't look directly at my eyes for so long. The path below us seems to never end. – Like, I began the ragged Burmecian clothing fashion.

— Fashion? This craze of yours?

— Craze?

— You had the craze to dismantle things, Hrist. If left alone, the whole house would be in shambles by your hands.

— I only use my hands to rip my coat, if that makes you feel any better.

— Still doing all this mess and calling it art. Jumping on bed, painting the walls, cleaning your muddy fingers with mom's dress while she wore it…

— Like you haven't done all of it, too. Gee, Freya, you are no saint. – I knew how to clean myself with moss, on the other hand. – And you forgot the 'step on your foot' part.

— That wasn't a craze. You did that on purpose. To hurt.

— It was my way of showing affection.

— Uh huh.

— In other words, you are asking what was the point of showing my ability, right? – Exactly, as you could tell by looking at my confused face. – Well, that bubble is far more impressive than it looks like. They do not burst, only when I want them to. – And with a snap of fingers, the bubble made by Hrist bursted in thin air, its remains falling upon grass.

— …I heard something about mind over body, but this?

— Not impressive? If you allowed me to concentrate, I would make a bubble so big it would make you float above the whole Burmecia.

— Have you done it before?

— Yes. But I ran out of air. I do not recommend doing it. Also, my eyes itched badly.

— From purple to red… – I left a smirk out. Don't know why.

— Don't make fun of me, Crescent.

— Oh, sorry. – Now I feel bad. It happens, unpleasant as it is to bite the tongue.

— I'll accept it. After all, you're so naive, which has its advantages.

— I wonder what are the advantages of making bubbles. – Other than bursting them in someone's eyes, I had no idea. But that was the least of my concerns. – And, might if I ask how come you make them appear like this? I mean, where does the soap come from?

— You really want to know?

— Please don't tell me it was inside your skin.

— Nah. You're miles away from the truth. – So Hrist began to explain about how she makes soap bubbles appear. – In fact, it's soap that came out of my body. Like, a pretty thing like me never sweats. Blergh!… Ok, a time and another, but not always. I'm not stinky, the medal should belong to… to…

— Me?

— No. As far as I can tell, you have a nice scent. – I wonder if she only came with this answer right now. And why, since I wasn't expecting another one of those comparisons. – Do not expect to hear this from Fratley.

— And don't expect he's all yours.

— Huh!? So you know, Fratley and I, we are friends. Nothing else. You can be his friend, too. To have someone at your side is way better than being left alone, bleeding at the toes. Don't you agree?

— I do. Now, tell me what's the deal with the soap. – I never expected to hear this coming out of me. This is one of those things I likely would say about soap.

— Oh, that? We can do a lot of things with the Dragoon. So I create soap out of it.

— What!? Care to elaborate?

— I'm trying, Crescent. You see, it's too complex for me to explain every nook and cranny of Dragoon by a single word, or even define what it is. Fratley said it's an index of possibilities, or something like, while talking about the Dragoon. What was once impossible becomes possible; an idea awaiting for execution becomes an object to be used, so father told me. That might explain why your hands were healed after Edea sewed them with her lines, and as well why I can materialize the spiritual energy through my body, and release it as materia, and-

— Spiritual SOAP!? Ah… Hah.. Haha… HAHAHAHAHA!… – I bursted into laughter that might have echoed throughout the whole Jugend. I… I… I just can't… – HAHA-Cough,COUGH!… Wait, wait… What? You… you can't be serious. – it only makes things funnier when she does pretend to look serious.

— And you're the only one having fun with it… classy. – Said Hrist, while some other eyes watched us. The indifference in their looks reminds me of the one belonging to statues.

— Heh… A whole lot of infinite possibilities, and you choose to make soap. But that's fine, Hrist. Like, whose child doesn't have fun playing with bubbles?

— You can laugh without teeth as one. – Then, something in Hrist's face tone and posture changed drastically. – Though, I can't guarantee any beauty coming out of this vision, other than mine.

— Oh, please… – I said, noticing something in that hair… – Stop throwing tantrums at me like spiders. Not all of them bite.

— But I do! – The hair, like I said… it's the wind, I could tell, but there's no wind. Hrist's hair moved on its own, up her shoulders, as my legs refused to move. My whole body, paralyzed all of sudden. – Hey, why aren't you laughing!? Well, guess I haven't told you that I can grow my hair as an extra limb. Wrap it around my hand in the shape of a drill too!

For a moment, I looked at that thing wrapping around her hand. Yes, a thing. That approached. Before it reached my chest, I took a backwards somersault. Despite the weight, I just had to. Or else, that hole… the ground exploded beneath me, some tiny pieces of stone reached to my face as dust. A few people stopped doing what they were doing, no, I think time as its entirety stopped at that moment. You know, Freya, the moment when your heart freezes from inside.

— W-what?… – I couldn't rationalize well, until I stood on my feet. Even with that power, I refused to kneel – The… THE HELL WAS THAT!?

— To hear this coming out of you is quite surprising. Did you like it?

— Was I supposed to? – I asked, but that wasn't my only question. It's hard to speak with the heart on the throat.

— Maybe. See, I can control my hair, choose any shape, but most of the time I prefer to let it be as it is.

— Why… Why haven't you told me about that?

— Everyone needs a secret technique, Crescent. And now that this is no more of a secret for you, perhaps… How can I explain? You know, there's a plant called Mimosa, known as well by or Touch-Me-Not. Its leaves retract when near water, heat, wind or by a hand's touch… but my Mimosa doesn't play safe. You should. Be glad that I left a hole in the ground.

— You wouldn't leave it on my clothes, would you? – Why do I ask? Looking at that face, you already have a crystal clear answer.

— I can tear more than your clothes, Crescent.

— Haven't you said it before?

— I may say it again, on training. – Funny. I'm accepting it all, like it's a thing that I see everyday, and it's only the first time. Everyone once here watched, and then they just walked as if nothing else happened. Well, not everyone.

— Your powers aren't meant to be used for fun, child. – Said Captain Edea, who stood in front of the door leading to the inside of the Jugend.

— It was a test. – Hrist replied.

— A 'test' that could have hurted a student.

— I knew Freya would deviate in time. – Uh huh… Sure you did.

— Well, speak to the Headmaster. He would love to hear what you have to say.

— He will understand. – o Hrist followed Edea, as I stood here, without knowing where to go. Hearing those voices and steps echoing through the corridor, I had no choice other than to follow them.

— Only because you are his daughter does not mean you have any privileges.

— I know. Like, you knew I would dodge your spear, same for this neck. – Hrist and Edea do not do very well with each other. You can tell by the size of those scars.

— Don't play dumb with me, girl. You are old enough to know that, at the moment you agreed to become a Dragoon, anything can happen. No matter the pain felt, that's not the result to be attained. Also, what happens on training should stay on training.

— For sure. You can break all my body while teaching the Dragoon, as well as fix it with the same. Checkmate.

— You say it as if I'm nullified of any complaints.

— I meant to say compassion, Captain.

— I have feelings, child. And what I feel for you… it's hard to explain.

— It ain't love, right? – I have no descriptions to tell, because I already saw and heard the same conversation. Yep, that's how Hrist talks to everyone, not a big surprise. But with Edea… – You could smile, at least.

— I have no reason to. – Edea said, with a serious posture and demeanor, which ain't the case of a sassy, goofy looking Hrist.

— Is it me?

— It ain't you, and none of your concern. Now, if you want to see a frown, I might try my best.

— Try later. Sit and talk is the best way of solving problems, don't you think?

— If it was, you wouldn't be a nuisance.

— Me, a nuisance? I can be nice, too.

— So be nice at repairing the floor outside, okay?

— Geez, a punishment already… Can I have company?

— My eyes will be watching you.

— A ball and chain would be better at keeping me in place.

— You can discuss with Ezekiel about that. – For a while, I've been walking and hearing the conversation of both. This until Edea turned to me. – As for you, Crescent… Sorry for the inconvenience. Please await Sir Fratley's arrival. He'll soon be there to train you, understood?

— Alright. – I said. Be prepared for more tree punching, Freya.

— We know Fratley can walk around without a cane, Captain. It's just that he hates morning noises. – And I wonder how he is able to tolerate you, Hrist. Well, she has said 'noises', referring to sounds coming out of a lot of people and objects, and though little Miss Chardonnay may be kinda annoying, she's one of her kind.