♫Robert Ashley - Automatic Writing♫
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Rain and its scent pours down. From the window pane, cold is the sight. The touch and smell of a distant fire... Green were once the leaves, and trees once still are falling down. So long ago, they lose their glow, and from their hands came the scythes. Rain pours down, the smoke is gone, the work is done. Gray remained into the clouds, translucid is the curtain, a child shares of doubts, and the rain is the only one who remain. Not only the branches suffer, there is nothing else left for this rainy decade to offer. Home. At least... home.
Not a sweet one, because only the taste of the rain is enough. It tastes like stone. I already knew it, so did my tongue. On those times, I've used to put anything I knew inside of me, literally. The finger, the food, the dust, the cracks of the walls... eventually, I spit them all as soon as I grew up. I've used to knew the world this way, tasting it with my mouth. Now an only sight is enough to discover something that either gives me chills, or surprises me. Only a few times I am allowed to shed a smile, due to nothing impressing me that much, or being too sad for any laughter to come out. So did the words, some secluded into my mind, for good or for bad. Nobody else, watching me with those eyes, speaking to me as they look at me... they aren't alike you, mother. Not alike father as well. Or Jack, who was patient in regards to my doubts, somehow.
Mother, you knew when it was the time to say 'no' to me, but at least, you and father knew how much of a 'no' it was enough for me to bare. A single 'no' was enough to save my life a bunch of times, while many of them were unnecessary, almost never heard by me, only when I was found into a distance, which rarely happened. To be a Dragoon Knight... not as easy as it is to enlisten the males ones to the army. I don't have anyone, except myself, to decide whether I should become one of them, or not. A door knob that can only be opened by someone else's hand... ain't I old enough for this? I said, but I've heard no reply other than 'no'. I was only seven years-old, now I am fifteen. Nothing changed, except that no more I could be sat above mother's arms, rarely I could do it so on first place. How easy it was for a 'no' to be told, and to not be spoken in words, to be understood not only by me. A 'no' followed of my name, which came after or before same order, usually an exclamation, unseen alike the danger revolving around each corner I've avoided with the sight, and the voice of someone else.
Some didn't even shared of any voice, only primitive roars. Basilisks, Vices, hordes of Ironites; you have fought them all, mom. Each one taken by your spear meant a decay of your time spent with some other activity, with someone else to hold on of your hand, while they felt your claws instead. How come a pair of knives found at the tip of our palms and feet be this sharp, and yet we are so careful when it comes to touch someone, without leaving any harm? To take a bath with this rugged loofah, flaying this skin of any dirt, transferring it to the water inside the wooden tub... I remember how tiny it was. I've used to take a bath like this, while inside a bucket, and either you and father used to bath me anywhere. In the kitchen, in the room, near the bedroom; outside, rain keeps falling, yet that same water can't be used to clean ourselves. Nobody can walk naked when on the street.
Everyone wears clothes, and decorations, garments which may tell on a first look what same person look alike. Each burmecian wear gaiters on their both feet as well, except a few stubborn children, who may never had suffered a pain alike the one coming from the tiny rocks under their feet. If a fisherman, hanging on a rod on its back, or a butcher, whose clothes are far more covered by blood than any soldier outfit, whose cyan outfits are polished as their helmets, whom I never saw being in a use other than stay atop their heads. Mother never wore that helmet to cover her face, and her entire outfit wears tones of weight. Buckles to hold on the escutcheon on her front and the metallic jambs atop her shoulders, a red coat who would became crimson sometimes, smelling like the flesh of something else other than mother... it must had been a nightmare to bare of such weight on her first days, besides the one coming she bared it throught her entire life.
Mother also wore those orange trousers, which only reminded me of this ribbon at the tip of my tail. They share of the same color, but this ribbon tells me who I am. 'Cr'... I belong to the Crescent family bruch, mainly. Father was a child born from another family, the Brandford, whose members have assembled into another, and so it goes on. Usually, the name of the male one's family persists into his children, but there are other factors, like the importance of a family over another, not only secluded in the surname, but riches and history also counts. The 'B' comes before the 'C' ain't that much enough of a factor, but who even cared about logic when it comes to naming your child? Some do not even have a name, but they are deemed as numbers instead. First, Second, Third... I have a bunch of cousins with these same names, reason is because they are young, and unfortunately with more chance of passing away, if they aren't lucky enough.
Luck... was the love mother felt for father a thing that happened by chance? Did she became a Dragoon Knight because of any chance? To be born with these tiny claws, only so to approach the enemy, before he or it comes from behind... how many of them caught your front as well, mom? I didn't even had to ask, only count the scars left at your back, naked or mostly covered by this coat. How many times it was sewed, how many times your life was spared instead of my own, how many Dragonnades were organized centuries before to hinder the only way out of the gates of Burmecia for those who called themselves by Cleyrans, at any cost. The Dragoon Knights are forbidden to kill any civilians, but those who didn't believed in Burmecia anymore were deemed as a threat, and the first principle of being a Dragoon Knight was made in regards of protecting Burmecia at any cost.
Those who attacked it were only animals, beasts, dragons... I want to believe that something changed, but I have always carried on the thoughts of mother, and that same blood which appeared, almost unseen due to that coat, but the once white cravat wrapped around her neck shared of a blood alike mine. Glowing in a red neither dark or either bright enough to be called by orange... It wasn't something who tried to kill her, but someone as well. With the bare hands. More than once. How many wounds are needed to kill someone until they are dry of any blood? None. They can't be seem, and this land will never run dry, alike this rain. Sure, Dragoons are also tasked to contain any kind of riot, coming from a horde of dragons, and a crowd of burmecians as well. Rarely they appear, to be fair I never saw a 'Rat King' outside the legends told. I never tried to enroll my own tail with someone else's tail, because there are a plenty of ways to make ties ammend.
Sometimes, a warm flash of light appears from a gap beneath the skies. The clouds briefly open up, and only a few there to be impressed. Children or adults, they still keep stepping over the water puddles... A rainbow disappears, unlike its colours brought to this gray. And those limes, clothes and dresses... the orange at the tip of their hairs and tails. I have never dared to take this ribbon out, not even when taking of a same bath like this. Only once... Now, look at the mark it left. How tightened to me, like my own name, a name that remains my own. The name as old as it was my grandma, so does the tradition of a Crescent to become a Dragoon Knight. Is it a tradition, after all? Because everyone wants to become one of them. I'll have to go to the market, yet again. Just like the mark left by the ribbon, it became part of me. It intends to, on a way it satisfies my pleasure, my hunger, my anxiety, anything that is part of me.
How much time it took for me to get out of that tub, wear these clothes, wrap that ribbon at the tip of my tail, comb my hair... I forget to wrap these strands. Now they are getting in front of my eyes. This hair will get soaked anyway, so I won't share of any complains related to this matter. Fräulein... I'd rather be called by Frida instead. Even Jack knew how to make me angry, with a charm. It ain't polite to punch a woman, father was right, and so Jack obeyed his. Father said nothing about words, adn the way they affect us. Any word, like fräulein for example. This name pisses me off, but people think that's such a cute way to refer to a girl. A rather archaic way, I would say, but I have just remained quiet. Soon all of that would be over, but sometimes I wished it wasn't. Those parties, the marriages, even the funerals; these were the times I would be close of mother. She was dressed like a Dragoon on each of them, except when taking a bath. Instead of muddy, the water became red, and the wounds hid by the thick fur, but not by the scent they brought.
Geez... do I really want to become a Dragoon Knight, if I remain thinking about these things? That job shares of other virtues, so does the people. I can eat as many vegetables i may find, but they won't belong to me forever. Like the sources of fuel, they need to be supplied from a time to another. Like father once told me, when travelling on the seas or these lands engulfed by a sky, sailors and explorers suffered from scurvy, who would rotten their jaws as a whole unless they brought a lemon, or some orange with themselves. I was never fond of the taste of any lemon, but I need to wear a cloth with same color. It smells like lime, but it may be because of its color. These were the first things I saw, and felt as well. Now I don't feel anything else alike before, when I smelled a chalk instead of eating it for the first time. The rain dissolved it instead of my own salivating mouth, and my hungry stomach. White alike milk... I don't know what I may have thought, because I was just a baby, but mother had a good memory. I brought her one, a plenty for a change, so did Jack.
My breaths can be seem, a thick fog comes from my lungs, but the pain within the chest won't stop. I disguise it, but after a few attempts, I perceive that I have failed to do it so, yet nobody seems to notice, or care about it. They do not even know how do I feel, how I wanted to feel any better, instead of dying each day on a week like this. Eggs... they are so fragile, so easy to be thrown away, to be eaten as well. Mother used to not afford any waste coming from those eggs and the price they carried on. She used to poured the shell coming from any egg, rotten as well, above the soil of the kailyard. They worked as a sort of beans, refreshing the earth below, increasing the growth of many plants. What I've once tought to be a sort of magic, or part of the Dragoon skillsets learnt by mother, it was all but the result of a work well done by nature. We may not be able to understand of its forces, or even care about then. A random stranger can tell me that the sun sets at the horizon due to Gaia's movement throught space, but like my father used to say, the sun is meant to rise and be set at the horizon because it needs to. Done.
I never saw the sun, only its light. I felt it as well, only briefly. Then, the clouds began to move, and only the rain could be felt, as usual. I just ignore it, because I already felt it throught my entire life. No matter the amount of ripples flowing throught the surface of each street, the droplets hitting and falling somewhere other than the ceilings of those houses, the clothes getting soaked by something other than sweat... there is just silence for me. Apples, eggs, oranges, cinnamon rolls, bread and cheese; I don't know if whether I shall eat one at once, or all of them together. Have some variety, at least. Back at home, only me to be sat on a chair, to prepare whatever it may be cut by this single knife. I wash it when cutting something else, because a bread can't share of a same taste alike a strawberry. Did I've bought them too? Well, I'd better eat then today, because these pretty strawberries aren't knew due to their taste, or the high price they are sold to us. They already seem to be a bit rotten, anyway.
A single touch over one strawberry, and a mark is left on a softer place, which means that this 'fruit' began to rotten. Not prepared already, and this strawberry wants to return to same earth its seeds once belonged. I understand... nobody knows when to give up from a good shelter, when most of the life had been spent, like this house I'm into. Nobody else, but only me who remained, unlike these clothes. Why the need of hanging on those clothes into lines found outside their homes, if they will get soaked anyway? At least, they will be clean of any dirt, except the one who shall wore it. Mother's ones at least fit on me, now, which came first: the orange color, or the orange fruit? That was one of the many kinds of questions made by Jack, and neither of us knew how to answer it. Not even father, who once said that the sun rises from the horizon because that's how it happens. People do not give up from living because that's how life is, because they now share of a plenty of reasons, arguments, doubts that fill in their heads, and before they pass away, some of them had already been dead for so long ago.
Instead of creating life or destroying it so easily, mom sometimes just let it grow, and I had been tasked to create my own life, if by digging up the past on such moments like this, or by growing up to live outside the earth... and the people who step over earth, mom?... they not want to give the seeds any chance?... The seeds are well protected by the earth they reside within, Freya... uh... and the streets? the seeds won't grow with stones above earth... See that grass over there? Below your feet? No matter how many cobblestones you build to fill in an entire street, there are always gaps in the middle of them all... grass grows anywhere, mom... You are right, Freya... gaps can be found anywhere too... mom, will grass grow inside Dan?... Well, why do you ask?... nothing big, mom... Heh, so you say... I can see that something is growing within you, my dear... It may not be grass, but no matter how many try to step over you, it will resist within time... It sure did, mother, whatever it may had been.
...Knock Knock... someone suddenly appeared, hitting the door with a fist. I know who it is, just by hearing of same knocks. I could have looked outside by the window belonging to this same kitchen, but I share of other senses. I hear no voice, but when I heard the wooden door being hit like that, I could already hear his infant voice... Hey, Jack!... aren't we going to catch some bastardliks?... Jack ain't there... – good morning – I said, greeting Daniel Brandford, a cousin of mine; also know as Dan, and 'Gappys' by the closest ones. His wife doesn't call him like that, only Jack used to, so did I when being close of his, due to mother's demand – I thought you were on duty as usual, Dan.
— I had been patrolling the surroundings from midnight to this morning, Freya – Dan said. I could see that he was tired. Besides the trembling legs, his pupils didn't ceased to blink. These Royal guards all wear light-weighted armory, but this doesn't mean they don't have any weight to bare with – don't you think I need some rest?
— You have your own house, Dan. And don't you think your wife isn't awaiting for you?
— I know, I know. Learie is taking good care of the kids as usual, they don't cry that much like before, but I'm tired. Really, honest. Also, I've wanted to see you... I mean, now that this place is empty... – I already let Dan come inside, as soon as I have noticed his weariness. Dan didn't showed up the day before due to his duty, but he was willing to help me the way he could. I know Gappys is good on the job he does, since I never saw his on the need of raising the sword, if there may be one there, to show the blade lying inside that leather sheath. Rocks to be thrown can be found everywhere, and so do the children that Dan used to be part of – you have been prepared some chai, as it seems. Mind if I-
— You're welcome – I said to Dan, who took a seat already. Dan is sitting on the other side of the table, same place Jack claimed to be his own. We used to stare to each other, before enjoying of some meal. At least, I had some fun when painting my own face, but that happened so long ago, and only mother to tell I giggled each time I painted my face, feeling as well the scent of the beans. One of the few things I do remember is that often I would be able to see Jack making those grimaces, sometimes I would mistake them with his face of boredom. Never that he was bored when playing outside, but the kitchen was the only place he could eat.
— This chai... – Dan said, after taking a sip. Some people are able to drink it when it's so hot, but when I do the same, my tongue gets burned. It always does, so instead of sipping it immediately, I decide to await until this chai cools down – those from the outside world call it by burman coffee. It ain't the same thing. I mean, there are those who can afford a high amount of gil to get some quality coffee, while the main population of Burmecia is supplied with the worthless of the coffees and teas as well. There is nothing else left for us than to improvise, to mix other spices in order to give this chai a taste... Lenneth knew which one to choose and blend – well, thanks, I would say in her place, althought I was meant to drink this chai on my own, but Dan made a visit once again. Since his father's demise, the uncle I never saw, Dan began to visit this same house, and Jack ignored of his presence. Later they would 'befriend' each other, since Jack and his began to hunt some Basilisks, so did I, just a witness alike Learie.
— Mother knew many things, and only a few were taught to someone else other than her – like the way the way she could jump... the basic of the Dragoon skills. Sometimes, she returned to this house not opening the front door, but the window found on her bedroom, and then, she lied on that same bed. So tired, but I was hungry. To eat some yellow apples instead of awaiting for them to became red, fully or in a half as many of them came to be.
— Our heads shares of a plenty of things. To each thing I see, I am able to recall the name of same object, its color, maybe the last one is the hardest to deduce, since there may be a plenty of useful things to be done with something alike, well, a spear for example. Some may think a spear only kills dragons, while others can use a spear to free many lifes from death, or use the ones with large blades as shovels to dig up the earth. It all depends of the person... and the people as well. Mainly the people. Like Lenneth, whom used to share of a risk job alike mine, yet nobody ever asked for her to become a Dragoon Knight. They do not pay attention for the children who wants to become them, not even when they grown up to fullfill their dreams.
— I wonder how you came to become a Royal guard, Dan. Your father was once part of them, right?
— To be fair, Freya, I didn't wanted to become a Royal guard like dad was, but I liked to hunt some Basilisks. Still I do it so, yet never that I ever harmed someone or something with this sword. It's only there to serve as a sort of symbol, so does these hands. It would be so cool to cut one of their heads with a blade, or so that's what Jack said once, but we instead kept throwing rocks over these creatures. Which way was the most painful, none of us knew... We hadn't been searching for these Basilisks to cause them any pain, but to avoid our own. So cruel, and so honest we were at the same time.
— ...and so deceitful as well – after taking five sips of chai, I had some words to be spoken. They do act as a sort of reply towards Dan's own, and a reply to myself too. How many times you have been laughing to someone who slipped with his face kissing the floor when jumping rope? How many times they laughed at you as well, and so did Jack... but he was the only one who followed me home, and the one who changed its face and the curve of that smile, no matter how awkward it looked for both of us. Only us. What would Jack receive after another day taking care of me, if we already lost something that couldn't be replaced? – remember all the children who wanted to become Dragoon Knights, Dan?
— Yes, they still exist. Only a few of them become what they ever wanted, or what everyone wanted. One of my brothers became a fisherman, the other is gone to some other Kingdom, and Aoife, my little sister, is a seamstress. She is kind enough to repair the holes of these outfits. Learie had been doing so much for me and the kids, as much as I had been doing this all for the sake of them. I mean, we are all born with claws, but it takes some time to await for them grown, and some do not want to use them this way, not even I do want to. That's why swords and javelins were made, and only a few to take care of them.
— Only a few are able to carry on of such responsibility. To be honest, I wanted to become a Dragoon Knight for many reasons, Dan. So many reasons, but one detachs from them all... I was the only one in this neighborhood who had a parent that worked as a Dragoon Knight, one of the few who sparred with someone who acknowledged of those combat techniques. And, by result, I was part of the many kids who had to await for their caretakers who worked from a distance. I once thought that, if I became same Knight alike mother, then I would be close of her.
— But you are – Dan said. I've awaited, and nothing else was said. He took another cup, and I awaited for him to sip it. I am already done, but this sensation always comes afterwards. Somehow, I feel empty, so does Dan. He could drink it all without ever opening his mouth, and be able to spit on my brother's face when showing of a smile but since his teeth and maturity grew up, he doesn't have the need to do it so – Lenneth worked so hard to follow of a way to the top of the world, and then she had to break her life in two. That's how things are, but we do our best to improvise. We can't cheat death, or to force time to slow down, not everything happens on the way we want to. I mean, I didn't wanted any children, but now I'm glad that someone else wanted them. I have learnt many things with Learie, I live to learn something new, alike my kids – for some reason, Dan is able to take it easy. He became a Royal Guard, is married, has a family to sustain, he is older than me, he shared of some time before I had to live my own... these are cold, hard facts, yet they are saw as a goal for many.
— We all struggle for something, because none of them are insignificant... only the dreams, and the way they stand as dreams, if we aren't able to believe and make them into something else. Dan, I know this ain't just a dream, or something flowing or tampering with my blood, but I... I don't know what to do next. I know where to go, but I have my doubts in regards to the slightest of the requirements, if there'll be an audition awaiting to see me, if I'll fail with them, which other job should I take instead...
— Don't worry about these matters, Freya. The weather isn't affecting you only – said Dan. Unlike his, I am sitting on the direction the window wasn't at my back. I could see the sky, the white of the clouds, Only white, and the transparent water pouring down as usual. Only the light coming from the window enlightens this dark kitcen, and the warm smoke coming out of the teapot... another of many views I saw so many times. I don't share of the same feelings I had with mother to Dan, or Jack, or maybe father, if he lived a bit longer .
— It's so cold outside, and only this chai to warm us up... – even the apples taste cold. It's like I am eating snowflakes, but they don't melt inside of me, like they used to with a single touch of my tongue.
— Well, as I said, you don't have the need of carrying on any of these worries. I know how it feels to lose someone you had been living with, and to feel the need of doing something, but you can't. The second one is the worst I had to bare with, because I couldn't accept that I was unable to do something. Well, I did, but it took time for me to raise this sword with an only hand, they are so goddamnly heavy... but you, Freya, you had been training throught your lifetime with someone who shared of an exact experience as a Dragoon Knight in a sort of child's play. Lenneth sure knew that, someday, you would become strong as a Dragoon Knight, not because she needed someone to take her place, but to make your own instead.
— I don't know for sure if mother wanted me or Jack to become Knights alike her, but to be stronger like one of them... certainly, that may had been her intention all along.
— Good intentions, from a good person. I've heard many things about dad, the way he acted and saw others, but I didn't cared about these things. He was my father, after all, and as much as I cared for his, he also cared for me, and mother, my siblings; dad just had not time to express these things, and I was too young to understand what he was talking, and remember of his words. Huff. Well, I guess I should be back to my routine as usual, so thanks for receiving me, Freya – soon after finishing his cup, Dan lifted from the chair he was sat, so did I, and then we shaked our hands. I wasn't expecting his visit, but I am glad that he made an appearance. Someone other than me – Freya... if you feel any better, I'll be awaiting for you in front of this house tomorrow. This if you need someone to follow you to where the Dragoons hatch...
— Thanks, Dan. I know you would be able to do this for me, but what about your job?
— There are guards other than me on these streets. It won't make any difference if I miss this job for a while, only a small discount of my payment – and then, after saying those words, Dan closed the main door. He didn't said goodbye, not because he had no time to such formality, but we will meet again. Dan may be left away from his job, but not from the duty he still carries on. After all, to help people on the way I he is able to is Dan's goal, as a guard, with or without this outfit. They look all the same, except those wore by the Dragoons...
I've spent the entire afternoon doing what mother used to, before going to her night routine. The clothes were already taken out of the line, I have buried some holes in the ground and put the seeds there, as much as I began to sew each hole I've spotted with my clothes. Sometimes, mother would spend an entire day working as a Dragoon, while others she would come back, only to sleep over that bed, and when the clouds began to darken, she would be gone. Now I am the only one sitting above this bed, where I used to sleep with her, sometimes as well. Only Jack would be there to take care of me, on father's place. He would never be reckless towards me, but only a few times that he shared of a place on his bed, when my own was soaked. If when afraid of the lighting saw from the window, or the sound of a thunder strucking a tree nearby, a nightmare I dreamt in blackest night... I couldn't control myself, my impulses, retaining it all inside of me, and so this just appears to happen again.
The same circumstances... same goals, same results. Now I know when I should or shouldn't relief myself, when it's time to feel clean, when it's time to behave, but nobody knows when it's time to do a leap of faith. It just happens, and I ain't sure to where I should be landing upon. It must be the weather, or so Dan said, or I am just trying to convince myself it is. I look at the clouds from the window, and all I can see is darkness. Some lights had been lit, but they are nothing compared to the sun, barely visible, but enough to make a dawn become white. I touch my forehead, and I can't feel any heat burning me, only the same heat I had been living with. Then I remember I lived to share of my heat with someone else, the first contact I had with mother wasn't with words, but with her skin. Only later that I would be able to understand what she had been talking about, instead of trying to eat her white hair. 'Don't eat this'; that may had been one of her first words, and one of the first rules I ever heard. At least, I was able to hear and feel something coming from her, and from father as well.
Instead of one, I lightened two candles. These are my only sources of light... and warmth before my own is gone.
...
ns 15.158.61.54da2
