∗ ∗ ∗
A floating lotus in languor above the lone ever blossoming plum.
Meditating, shirtless, in muddied linen pants in the clearing just outside Casita, Aoi was stirred by the sounds of Zero gouging earth beneath, distracting him from analyzing his surroundings but forcing a goofy smile across his otherwise focused pout.
He opened his eyes to see her tail wagging left and right, and her little elephant-like legs moving her toward the meadow, where he could make out the dome of Stewart's shell…though it was slightly blurred.
The perfect, crisp, early autumn dawn. His basket, stuffed with plump garnets and delicious rubies, lay in the dewy grass.
A red jewel rose from his basket, into the evaporating mist, and rose further, where, in one swift motion, Aoi grabbed the coffee berry and popped it into his mouth. Its juices burst, revealing a deep, tart, lascivious flavor.
Focused and intent, he spit out the precious bean hidden inside, his fingers dirtied in earth, juice, and dedication as he gripped his treasure within his pointer and thumb. Then, he simply released the bean into the air above him…
The Sun had slowly made its way further east as the space surrounding him was littered by a swarm of floating coffee pits seemingly joined in his practice. He gently unfolded his legs and leisurely made his way back to the ground, squishing the warm grass between his toes.
His basket was empty when he picked it up to hug it on his hip and make his way back to the greenhouse to check up on a certain, very loud, very opinionated, flightless, avian creature, where he paused to consider the slight ripple in the air before him; his cogitation finally complete.
I've finished analyzing it..
He offered his palm where a small, pale-fuchsia array bubbled into existence.
Yaya's barrier
O Opener fell these deliberations;
Dance of brush upon head of ibis, Penetralia relent
I, gavel vested Clavis, your Unmaker, command ruin.
A lambent, oilslick sphere buoyed upward toward the apex of an imperceptible and terrifyingly opaque force surrounding the grove.
"Kasra, kassara, inkisār"
The highly syllabic, specifically stressed sounds reverberated throughout the area only to rebound once they had met the intangible force. Aoi's incantation collided, grabbing air, atmosphere, and light which sent a ripple through the barrier.
For a brief moment; iridescence.
Light waves were reflecting off its inner and outer boundaries. Then cracks split along the dome only to shatter. Several prismatic shards fell through the air before dispersing as mana to be returned to the world.
Training done! I smell breakfast.
∗ ∗ ∗
Kasra, kassara, inkisār (KAS-ra · ka-SA-ra · in-ki-SAAR): the spell to summon the force which breaks an anatomized barrier by applying its precise counterforce threefold — spoken as a rising triad; the break, the breaking, the broken.
∗ ∗ ∗
Thrice Maggi grabbed fresh coffee cherries in delight that morning.
The first at the entrance to his home, where his single mother was in the kitchen, concocting him a spectacular meal as a thanks for all his harvest work. It had come to a finale.
He exhaled…
Finally a normal Tuesday
The second cherry Maggi gleefully snatched was at the entrance to his beloved greenhouse, where his very loud, very radiantly emerald friend was barking orders at a massive, albeit very shy –mostly hidden in a murky fathomless pond– frog.
He'd spent centuries, his whole life, cultivating and tending to the gorgeous expanse of botanical gardens that stretched before him, bearing the fruits of his life long labors. Literally.
"Kujou, come–HA! You know he's just gonna get frustrated and eat you. Again." He rolled his eyes.
I don't know why I bother
"I'll take you flying at noon! We'll make lunch together. I'm thinking beans.."
Aoi bent down to pick up a delicious heaping melon. "Yaya's been insane about these." He smiled then yelled toward the murky depth of the pond. "Bait, I promise you'll get some when I come back." And then finally to the suddenly uncharacteristically silent bird. "Meet me in the kitchen. Noon sharp!" He deposited his basket at the door where Maggi showed up to collect the third and final precious ruby, so grown and tended to with love by her giant friend, whose fur was a tonal match to her own.
∗ ∗ ∗
As is custom, the fingers of her left hand were clad in golden rings chained to her wrist. Her nails shorter than their usual claws, and grasped in between, and rolling as if starting a friction fire with a stick; a pale wooden molinillo. She was furiously rattling it against the cool steel of the chocolatera, its scents wafting in the air and dancing on the back of his tongue as he inhaled.
"My sweetie honey baby child. Buenas mmmmorrrr, you probably aren't hungry anymore after eating all my cherries…"
"Maggi had some." He smiled, guilt splashed across his face.
"That's fine sweetheart, Bait can eat your breakfast."
Aoi produced a rare golden cherry and presented it to his mother, which she immediately pushed his hand and the fruit back toward him; urging him to lock it away.
"Besides, you need the practice.." She rolled her eyes, rubies of her own.
"Yes, Yaya, you're right Yaya. I am starved from the months of backbreaking work. I'm sorry I ate the cherries."
"You are the one choosing to do it all by hand." A slight twitch in her lip, and wiggle of her lengthened ears.
"You are the one who taught me that doing so would make me a better magician!" He played along.
"And yet…" She was looking over her spectacles but down on him.
"Your barrier crafting is merely nonexistent, while the interactions with your domain are so severely unfortified you'll be killed one day."
…killed?
"It's a difficult spell! There's no point you–wouldn't understand!" Sincere now in his expressive gesturing. "For you it's second nature!"
"Honey..now who in the mother fuck do you think invented it!" The molinillo stopped.
"Exactly my point," A crack in his facade. "Yaya."
CACKLE.
A devilish smile splashed across her face before throwing her head back to howl. Aoi couldn't contain himself for all of thirteen seconds before he too descended in laughing madness.
"I love you, Mary! Get your ass in this seat and eat your breakfast." The deep crimson of the sacred pour; oenomancy filled her watch. Of the boy whose face flustered before his mother's iris, the same hue was his face and the blood that spilled from his nervous lip.
∗ ∗ ∗
The corn he grew was so lovingly dried, husked, crushed and ground, milled into a fine powder, then mixed with water and kneaded into gorgeous pale golden discs. They were then charred over a flame, splashed with coconut oil, salt and cracked pepper. All by the same bedazzled hands that reared him.
His plantains were either julienned and fried in oil, or boiled in thick syrupy aguapanela, and caramelized to near tooth decay. The morning's usual vodka was passed over for chopped and fried golden potatoes with peppers and onions, tossed with bay leaf aromatics. A heaping serving of a garden fresh combination of scallion, tomatoes, garlic, onion, roasted and crushed fennel and cumin seeds, Yaya's hogao…which was not that great actually, but he feasted with fervor.
Sliced papaya, guava and passion fruit, each of which he remembered growing, topped coconut and yellow sapote custard. His favorite–
WAIT
"How is it possible that you have been hiding no less than two varieties of this fruit?"
"Because this isn't real"
"What?"
"Because my magic is unreal, you know this…" Her words drifted, as did her eyes, to Aoi, then through him. She put up her chained hand to her mouth and undulated her fingers, araneidan.
Eskifo..
Her fingers stopped.
"One day I'm going to tell you why that's funny," She began "And my long sordid history with Italian men, but for now," She feigned the wiping of a tear with her middle finger. "You should know that I am a part of you, and have been for some time." Her thoughts seemed to dance on her punctuational locution, as the word itself seemed to echo.
Yaya who was not altogether so much Yaya closed the gap between them-
"Aoi you've always been divine."
-to lay a matronly kiss on his neck.
It burned where her lipstick surely painted his skin.
"Mary! Do you remember helping that butterfly out of her cocoon? What was her name? Her proboscis ended up being broken." She spoke then to a child of centuries past, one who'd not yet grown to learn of loss.
"Who? Butterflies emerge from chrysalis Yaya, you know this."
"She's named after one of my fav Gekiga." These words had never been spoken though as she spoke them each syllable turned more surreal.
"The first butterfly I nursed was Migi and he didn't make it. That's where the name came from. But Migii? She made it!" He was angry. "Her forewing…Yaya why are you, I fed her by hand, she laid eggs. Don't you remember?" Crimson, scarlet, every shade of red flooded his countenance as he interrogated the fabulous, faux Phobetor.
The rage that built inside himself only served to fuel this intruder's own ire, and to his dismay, delight.
"You've always tried to save every last little creature, Aoi, but you can't save me. You don't need to and you know it."
Yaya sprouted wings.
And you should too Mary, my sweet boy
She spoke for his consciousness, and her words consumed the dark, but only momentarily…
∗ ∗ ∗
"Almighty and everlasting Goddess, in Whose hands are the keys of life and death…"
The prayer crept out slowly, first, a voice so soft, so delicate, so feminine, and so touched by age.
"Sustain Thy servant, O Mother Divine."
Then the second was of a man's, quite possibly underwater, though every consonant was stressed and hypnotic.
"Behold Thy servant, whom Thou hast cast upon the bed of deep and silent sleep:"
"Sustain Thy servant, O Mother Divine."
"By the breath of life which Thou didst breathe into man at his creation."
"Breathe upon him, and restore him."
"By Thy voice which commanded the daughter of Lazarus to rise from the sleep of death."
"Speak to his spirit, and command him to awaken."
"From the darkness of the veil and the silence of the flesh."
"Deliver Thy servant, O Mother Divine"
"That he may walk again in the land of the living and praise Thy Holy Name."
Until finally both voices:
"Hear us, O Mother Divine, and have mercy!"
∗ ∗ ∗
Three to six years of careful, tropical cultivation. Near constant tending, watering, each fruit taking nearly a year each to mature on the branch, to then be plucked only when its cap lifts backward from its flesh. And still six more days to ripen in a secret stash, magically obscured as not to alert him. To then finally, this morning, have its skin removed and sweet pulp released, to be worked into a chocolate calienté that stirred his soul, and brought tears to his eyes.
Who secretly grows Diospyros nigra and Lucuma campechiana?
"Mary, dear, my baby. It's okay, you are safe. It's time to wake up."
I wonder what else she's been hiding..
"You even bothered with the cinnamon."
"My sweet Angel, oh my beautiful baby boy. You have to wake up."
"Yaya, where did you grow the sapote?"
"Check for a Royal Dansk, Mary. A house isn't a home without one."
"That weird cookie box with the needles and yarn, Yaya–"
"Aoi, my love you have to wake up."
"I don't want to. I miss you..why are you talking this way?"
Her face twisted as her lips spread to show teeth.
"Yaya, where are you, are you okay?"
"Mary," Her smile now so big her fangs were showing.
"I am Me."
Her wings fluttered, a chiropteron echoing chorus overtook the room, the mighty winds which she summoned from her wingbeat were cold, yet toasty and smelled of the morning meal's abundance…even if not the scent that burned a remnant in his heart.
∗ ∗ ∗
The soft pattering of rain turned harsh as a storm raged on out beyond…or was that the distinct sound of hand carved wood banging against metal? Perhaps both, simultaneously. Either way, the sounds rang like distant chimes, soft, pleasant and utterly nostalgic.
It was then Aoi awoke to an exquisite smell that had made its way along a breeze into..
Where the..
A quaint bedroom whose walls were made from an unyielding weathered stone. Whose floors were made of deep rich colored wood, and pale slate grey tiles detailed with an azure accent. Hand carved, every inch and section of the interior including but not limited to a simple wooden chair, positioned too close to the bed upon which he lay.
The bed frame felt sturdy and familiar and altogether not so much any of that at all. Hand sewn with care were the fabrics of the bed in which he lay whose colors were not as he remembered; these were light blue and embroidered with a red lined white star. They clung, warming his clammy body quite unlike the breathable, linen sheets of his youth.
Charmingly crude, pocket-sized clay depictions of the Divine Mother lined and almost crowded the room. Candles stood lambent on a large extravagant chest their wax spilled over. The face of a suave, smiling man suspended in the air above a flickering candle, a large grimoire looking tome sat by, opened to the possible depiction of a woman harvesting sunlight. He wasn't able to make it out quite yet as the room was dark and a storm raged ever onward outside the stained glass windows, their colors muted from the torrent crashing against them, ominous.
Aoi could hear the shuffling of something not too far off, possibly in the next room, if he knew where he was he could figure it out…surely. Although…he was tired and that smell was enticing.
Wow
He could really smell it. Familiar and different but delicious he thought it could be. The smell was coming closer, and it wasn't who he'd hoped. But…He was tired and his entire body ached deep.
Oh shit
The memory of fangs destroying his leg stirred a twitching in his calf, a constellation of gazes searching and seeking brought a cold shiver to the back of his neck. The cold unfeeling carcass of his beloved friend, he shook his head. He had narrowly escaped only to freefall into–and then the hands, all those feeling hands, desperate and tortured. He tried to move his arms, and thankfully succeeded.
I almost pissed myself, let's take inventory
His heart beat, logically, he checked first, to reveal nothing unusual. Then, logically, he made his way to a thankfully, very much not erect anymore penis and his leg! Tender at the touch, for sure, but his calf was no longer in shreds.
He wept in silence at his fortune.
Dulled huh..
He felt weighed down, and slow, heavy and not just exhausted, but...induced. Had he been given some sort of analgesic, it must've been one hell of a drug! He pressed his hand to his–miraculously whole–left calf to a gale force of pain hidden behind a most magical veil of..
Morphine or mystic?
The handsome man's face floating proudly flickered as a draft circled the bedroom and disturbed the candle's flame. The rain, it sounded like, had relented even if a hair. The shuffling noises, still indecipherable, slowly but surely making their way closer…accompanied by, again, that disarming smell.
No! Yes, this drug is good
A bolt of lightning cracked overhead and shook the foundation.
Who…um, tucked me into this bed?
"Mi niño, I'm coming for you.." A somewhat familiar, wobbling, effeminate, torpid voice called in.
I didn't even sense anyone until she spoke just now
Impressed as he was unnerved Aoi felt not the faintest blood lust, and the sedative he should've been questioning instead was lulling and pacifying him. He nuzzled into the hay stuffed bed and listened as the voice wobbled hymns during her long journey from wherever she was to wherever he was. The pit that had been in his stomach since the scene in the kitchen finally dissipated…
Aoi allowed himself to inhale deep, where he could swear he smelled the char of arepa. Sweet, and indulgent too was the scent, enticing even. At the edge of the doorway..
had that always been there?
A gleaming silver something, topped in shadows that smelled of his kitchen, only not. The shuffling sounds reached the port to his temporary abode, where a shadowed presence held.
Three feet tall huh
Aoi laughed at the endearing little being that walked across the threshold, casting a faint warmth and lambence.
"Niño, breakfast. You eat baby. Provecho!"
Her words snailed their way from her wrinkled lips. The faintest of silver hairs adorned her burgundy lips. Her grey and white hairs stained a fading indigo in tight woven braids around her crown that tucked into two, little, low buns behind her ears. She was dressed in a deep garnet, rigid and ankle length victorian, high collared dress. It looked lovingly maintained and restitched, not signifying poor craftsmanship, no, the opposite. It's been worn daily, for years; cleaned and starched, and restitched upon tearing. He recognized the love, not just in her clothes but in her kind silvering eyes, massive moons in her finger-thick spectacles.
He wept.
And wept, as the woman rushed, by her standards, over to his side after a few moments. Her touch was warm…and wholly not normal. Her hand held the grimoire-like tome, while she sang another hymn. The hand touching his face, somehow, was radiating a delightfully happy frequency. The book, the tome, was radiating the same delightful warmth. This woman was a–
"Mi niño, lo bendiga." She slowly brought the silver charm of her necklace to her lips, an extremely intricate and gorgeous silversmithed rendition of the benevolent Goddess of Creation, the Divine Mother.
"Mother Maria, thank you for your continued blessings of health, and abundance."
∗ ∗ ∗
My Goddess….a Holy Woman
His sides were aching, as he choked. To have been disarmed would have been one thing, but completely blindsided and struck dumb was another. The latter was where Aoi existed while he cackled and cried and laughed and cried. His face a snotty smile as he beheld the tiny, very senior,very devout, priestess who had saved his life! Presumably she was the woman who dragged him ashore, and most certainly the one who had been tending to him.
"Mi niño, call me Mita." Her saucered eyes filled with tears while her wrinkled lips quivered into a delicate smile. "Oh! Thank Goddess!" She wrapped her frail trembling arms around Aoi, this woman, this Mita was celestial, or at least her magic was. She was absolutely irradiating the glory of the Goddess.
"Mita, call me Aoi." He managed to choke out mostly onto her oddly, perfect blue hair.
"Thank Goddess!" She cried back onto Aoi, although much less messily. He opened his eyes to see the room had filled with sunlight. The rain started to give way to a gorgeous misty seaside. Waves crashed, replacing the pattering of rain, and every now and then you could hear a gull or two calling.
"Thank y- Thank Goddess!?!"
Aoi rejoiced, holding the doll framed woman called Mita, his new friend.
"Thank Goddess!"
They laughed and cried in each other's arms. Aoi, sure to be gentle holding her fragile frame, as his was, absurdly, just as fragile.
"I made you food mi niño, go on, will you please eat?"
How could he refuse?
∗ ∗ ∗