Harm and Harmony

-Chapter 96-

Day: 123

Days Left: 5357

Lives Saved: 0

Harmony followed the directions she had received from Ivette and eventually saw in the distance the campsite that had been described. There, where the land transitioned from the miry marshland to the Carrion Steppe, was a tent pitched on the dry and brittle grass situated amongst small rocks for cover. Made out of cream cloth and patched up with a multitude of colourful fabrics, the tent was a rainbow blob in the wasteland of grey.

As she got closer, Harmony saw an old man sat on top of one of the smaller rocks, absentmindedly playing with a yo-yo. On the other side of the campsite was a dozing rottweiler, or at least Harmony hoped was sleeping as the dog remained very still.

When Harmony approached, the old man, without even turning, greeted her with a cheerful welcome. "Ah, Corinna! Ready for another session-" He paused as he looked back and saw Harmony standing before him. For a long moment, he was silent until, eventually, he continued, "my apologies. I thought you were-"

"Corinna?" Harmony's brow furrowed. "She's been here before?"

"A couple of times," replied the old man. "She asked for advice on recording her memories."

Harmony nodded, no longer so cautious. "Makes sense."

The old man smiled and pointed to both of their clothes. "You and I match."

Looking down at herself, forgetting what she was wearing, Harmony forced a short spurt of laughter. "Yeah. Guess we do."

Both of them had gone with all green outfits, though of course Harmony always dressed this way. However, whilst the old man's ensemble was more of a lime and chartreuse green, almost blinding for the eyes, Harmony's was earthy and dark.

"It is Harmony, correct?" The old man asked.

"Yeah... you know me?"

A slight smile appeared on the old man's lips. "Corinna is rather... talkative."

Harmony laughed, this time it was genuine. "That she is. And you're um..." Her mind blanked as he failed to recall the name that Ivette had given her. It was too late now. The awkwardness had already settled in, even more so as the old man waited patiently for her to continue.

When it was beyond obvious that Harmony could not remember, the old man answered for her, "Salim. My name is Salim."

"Ah, yes. That's it." Harmony bit down on her lip hard, wondering if it would make the situation even more awkward if she just left now.

"Do you... wish to sit?" Salim motioned vaguely to the rocks and to a blanket on the grass.

Harmony sat down on one of the rocks. Though the blanket would have been more comfortable, she didn't want to ruin it for she was a guest in someone's 'home'.

To much of her relief, the rottweiler on the other side of the campsite moved; it wasn't dead. But of course, Harmony reminded herself that nothing could die here anyway. However, the way it had been so still had concerned her.

The dog's snout twitched, then its ears perked up. Slowly, the rottweiler stretched out its legs and shambled over to Harmony, sniffing her feet, then her hands. It's tail shot upwards, wagging frantically from side to side at such a speed that it could be classified as a weapon. The dog almost tackled Harmony to the ground as it licked her face.

"Wow! Hey there!" Harmony laughed, returning the affection with belly rubs. "And who are you?"

"His name is Reginald," answered Salim.

"Reginald, huh?" Harmony held the dog's face in her hands as she scratched his ears. "How about... Reggie? Reggie suits you better."

Reggie barked in agreement, drooling even more in excitement.

"Looks like we have an agreement." Her smile disappeared. "Is this a real dog or is it a prisoner with a mask-"

"It's a real dog." Salim sighed.

"Why would a dog be imprisoned here?"

"If you have enough money, you can throw anyone down here." Salim paused. "Can even pay to keep them longer." He motioned to the dog. "He should have been free by now."

"Who would do something like..." Harmony stopped, noticing the cuts and bruises hidden amongst Reggie's fur.

"I am afraid he arrived like that." Salim lowered his head. "Those wounds and that broken leg of his will never heal whilst in this place. He'll forever have them."

"Who did this to him?" Harmony gritted in her teeth, attempting to remain calm and appear happy before Reginald so that he wouldn't panic.

"From what I have heard from other prisoners, Reginald here belonged to some sort of viscount who was a rather... well, not a nice owner. And one day, Reginald fought back. Did quite a great deal of damage, so I hear."

"Oh yeah?" Harmony smirked, gaining at least some sense of retribution.

"Let us just say..." A devious grin formed on Salim's lips. "That the viscount was no longer able to bear children afterwards."

Reginald eventually calmed down and rested his head on Harmony's lap as she stroked him to sleep, repeatedly telling him what a good boy he was for biting off the evil noble's genitals.

"Was there a particular reason for your visit today, Harmony?" asked Salim.

"Ivette said you give advice on recording memories?"

"You want to record your memories?" Salim asked. There was a slight sense of confusion in his voice.

"I want to record my memories of this place. The good ones only, of course." Harmony glanced down, embarrassed. "You know, to help me get through it all, help me remember the happy times."

"Well, I am glad that you have managed to find some in this place. What have you written so far?"

"None yet."

"Then perhaps you can tell me about one of these memories."

Harmony winced, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "They're private."

"I see... well, I'm not sure how much help I can be."

Harmony lowered her head. She had known that this would have been a waste of time. At least she got to meet a dog.

"Have you read Corinna's memories?"

"It's like a textbook. I... I don't want mine to be like that."

"Then don't," said Salim. "There is no set way for writing one's memoirs. It doesn't have to be in chronological order. It doesn't have to include your entire history. Life is far more complicated and complex than just a line. Life is a feeling, an experience, not information. Write it how you want to, in any way that expresses that feeling. You don't even have to write at all. Use pictures! Use drawings! Diagrams! You could do a mood-board, scrapbook, a diorama! A song! An interpretive dance! Anything!"

Harmony laughed at the thought, humouring the idea of recreating the moment when she finally won at Jenga against Corinna in dance form.

"Life has no limits or restrictions, so why should your memoir?"

"Yeah..." Harmony grinned, ideas already forming in her head. Perhaps talking to him wasn't a waste of time after all.