Saturnalia (SAMPLE)

chapter five: intricacies of romance

Love strikes in the most unsuspecting ways. Funerary rites are a most unconventional method of establishing such notions, but it will suffice when attraction is nigh.

"And, when is the funeral?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. Uncle Hans has a fair amount of legal and spiritual work to finish before he can commit her one way or the other."

"I see. It's rather strange, isn't it?

"What is?"

"All this waiting around to die! Easier, no, to have the trees and the animals bring her back to the land?"

Iyan and Kairie paused their stroll to contemplate the differences in death for their respective cultures. It was a warm, bright day with just enough clouds to give them the occasional shield from burning. Birds sang sweet songs; flowers bowed to their walk; rabbits and dogs alike jumped across their feet. The world was teeming with life, and Iyan could not have felt more aware of it all.

That was, until Kairie had begun to inquire about his family.

As they made their way around town, via the cobbled path that stretched from the Western exit of the city to the East, she tenderly pressed Iyan for details about not only the woman he had very nearly considered mother, but the natural series of events that would have to follow her demise.

"I'm afraid I... I don't understand." Iyan's eyes followed a passing musician, who puffed at the tube of a reed-like instrument. The player appeared unaware of the attention they attracted, or perhaps, was glad to share some of their lively talent to unsuspecting individuals. Regardless, the sound emanating from them filled Iyan with a mixture of emotions that he felt keenly uncomfortable analysing at the moment.

"Of course you do," came the laughing answer. Always with a chuckle was she! Iyan blushed and shook his head.

"I am not as smart as I think I am, nor as I wish to be, ma'am. I must ask you to explain yourself."

"Very well," replied Kairie, and guiding her arm around Iyan's, she pulled him along down the path. "Firstly, let us look at the flowers around us. See you the trees, the roots and weeds that push up from the dirt?" When Iyan admitted that he did, while concealing a grin at her very odd manner of speech, she nodded, almost impatiently. "Yes, and how do those creatures grow? Where does their source of nutrition come from?"

"It must be magic," joked Iyan, before clearing his throat at once, embarrassed with his attempt at humour. Why must I open my mouth? His despair was quelled somewhat when Kairie rolled her eyes, but not without giving his arm a comforting squeeze.

"The animals and such that die, Mr. Lutton, that's where. Their deaths feed the soil, and the soil feeds the plants that in turn, give life to the very animals who perished!" Releasing her grip, she clasped her hands together with all of the sweet giddiness of a child, as though she was not explaining the natural order of death in relation to his aunt.

"Are you suggesting," questioned her slightly concerned host, "that my aunt be left in the grass, to be feed upon by wild animals?" As he posed his question, an even bolder one entered his mind, which he hesitantly voiced. "Is that how your people deal with the dead?"

He would have been horrified by the affirmative, if Kairie had not seemed so good-natured about it all.

"It is a most wonderful thing to do," she explained, "to give back to those who made your life possible."

"And the land, it is a person?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Sentient, warm, forgiving, and kind, quite so, but surely not a person."