CADO [DISCONTINUED]

= Ch 7: Hidden Currents =

    Many sunrises. Many sunsets. The numbers do not matter, not anymore - but time feels stretched and thin, a rubber band at its limits. Even in this moment, clashing swords with my friend, my skin feels numb, and the world far and distant, yet the moment drags on.

    "Aha!"

    Oh. I blink. He finally got me.

    I nod, his sword at my chest. "Good. You're improving."

    "It only took months. Months - how is this fun to you?" He vanishes his sword, letting his hands massage the back of his neck.

    "I doubt it's been months." I sheath mine.

    "It sure feels like it," he spits. "This damn well better pay off."

    I nestle my hands into my pockets. "Oh, it will. I'm gonna test you sometime." What should be a grin leaks across my face. "And even more, we've gotta train up to fight Darian."

    The brunet's eyes widen. "We're going to fight him? Woah! But what's the point?"

    "What's the point? He's a pirate!"

    "Then what are we?"

    "No, I mean - he's a ruthless killer. His men are madmen."

    "Madmen?" He asks. "They seemed really cool, last ones we met."

    I shake my head, emphasizing, "Those were different. Those were Aka's - probably contracted with Darian, but not...not like him. One of Darian's men cuts off people's ears and wears them as a necklace, if that says anything about 'em."

    His face lights up. "Woah. That's badass."

    I hesitate, taken aback. "It's...brutal."

    "As if you're more moral."

    "I am, though."

    He stares at me. I meet his gaze, uncertain of the meaning in it.

    He has the chaos and calamity of a shallow sea, beaten about by furious winds and unpredictable currents. The man's never known how to sail those ever-shifting waters, nor may he ever. Where did you come from, Carnage? What of your strange name, your bright coat? If I learn more about him, and if every human is a function of beliefs, memories, and urges, can I predict which output I get from each input? Can I ever predict how he'll act in any given situation?

    The sea, however, wears its intentions on its sleeve. The textures on the waves show me everything: which spots have wind, which areas have none, and even the difference in direction between the current and wind. Its glistening waters send their blessings to the ship, allowing our hull to slice the waves as they dance below cotton candy skies, the blues and pink speckled dome of heaven. Clouds flit through the pastels, ushering the sun towards the horizon. The skies hide nothing, unlike this blind dive through subtle cues and tonal shifts.

    The man across from me only stares. The gruff nature of his words barely matches the friendliness of his face. His coat, the color of fall, flutters about him, creating the illusion of a man of great stature. It's as though he wills the coat to lift him, to add height - to boost his concept of self to its highest point, blind to the risk of falling.

    Or, perhaps, I'm biased. Perhaps my view of this story is narrow, and I must open my eyes to some bigger picture. Maybe I'm missing the point, and if only I could understand him, I'd learn some deep truth about life and the purpose of everything.

    A deep breath in, a long hold, and a release. My skin's tingling back to life. I take a seat on the splintering deck.

    "...I had an idea you might like, if brutal's what you're into."