It'd be remiss of me if I didn't mention that I made a significant edit to the last chapter which or may not affect the plot. It only has to do with the MC's and Naberoa's conversation. Something with it did not read well, appearing OOC for Thelamein/Taylor in that certain questions were omitted.
Anyways...
There was Teriani who arrived in the late afternoon, soon after Nabe.
She was shapely, a fiery hair-colored woman with a shade of burgundy on her dress. Large thighs and a nice round rear, well manicured fingernails and modest cosmetics, fair skin and a beautiful face gave the impression she was Amazonian. The smell of something bitter and minty radiated from her, paired with lemon-yellow eyes that enchanted.
My heart danced as my core burned when she walked in. We had been sitting on the couch trying to converse, even as she wore a resting bitch face.
Can’t tell a story, can’t ask fun questions… Maybe an observation?
“I want to make a guess about you.”
Teri gave a sideways glance, having leaned leisurely away.
The exact words didn’t come out right. “A-meal ur ear-a.”
“… Xiyier ssarie sa amael,” ‘then guess,’ she answered, raising one of her auburn brows.
I looked at the bag at her feet, something overly large and rich in a designer’s quality (like Prada?) packed with what seemed to be a bundle of clothes.
“Ear-a… amsarl ar-as… Sa mri-anol-ir gos sam-ur-e…” You make yourself stand out, a leader for others, but you feel alone. There was another part I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Teri snorted, but not in an amused way. “Egala Bayrmaur aur rype gsal.” ‘Your Vinlis is bad.’
I pressed on, somewhat put off, “It’s why you dress almost as nice as me, ea-at lp-eel ray-ien… may-ree die.”
“Eaara hol vetarssa aaras xiyie ugbayaarac.” ‘That’s obvious.’
Eyeing her over, I still hadn’t noticed any indicators of interest, and it had been that way for the last 5 minutes. She was being distant, only present as though this were an obligation. Why are you here? Just to get knocked up?
“Ear-a hol col f-pud weli. Fam-ass… Vieray-com-sa?” You seem like you’re from the Fairy Peninsula.
(Amrynn had mentioned it was where she ‘belonged,’ that where a collective of cities and boroughs were rooted along its rocky shores and steep cliffs, all overlooking the great lake ‘Hsarliec,’ where her ‘neighbors’ and ‘friends’ all appeared as greek as her. It was like she was describing Ancient Greece and its city states.)
She did not answer, looking away to something beyond the window. We were silent for a moment.
“Teriani, wy-ne hol ear-a well-y?” Why are you here?
There was an obvious role in her eyes. “Wynsas lu eaara xiyayrr?” ‘What do you think?’
Perhaps I was missing something, that she was showing interest in another way, that it might have been an expectation that I wasn’t fulfilling, or that this was having to do with my lackluster Vinlis. In a sense, she was giving me a deeper glance of cultural expectation, and how courting wasn’t as straightforward as I had thought.
But I wasn’t about to put up with this.
“Was-ary sa ray-ien raph-es.” Have a nice night.
I didn’t bother to meet her gaze as I stood up, leaving for the bedroom to change into some swimwear. A dip in the pool and the ‘heat pond’ (or jacuzzi) felt right at the moment, a better experience than dealing with her attitude.
It was dark when I returned to the top floor. Teri was gone, neither waiting in the living room nor in any of the bedrooms, the only sign of her an indent on the couch. Part of me felt relieved, the other regretful.
It was the next morning, and there were lessons to be had.
“Eaara m'afr aepau,” you look tired, Pyria observed.
I rubbed my eyes, the last adrenaline from this morning’s workout fading. My mind felt fried from the torrent of bad thoughts, and I had been up longer than usual (again), either staring at the ceiling or at the growing dark side of Gmoie and her surrounding stars. Since the last 4 days, sluggish mornings have been a worsening issue.
“Ay wu-sal g-sal cim-ad-av,” I did not sleep well.
“Cdelme egala vylosrir rsac col xiysas iejnyadl.”
After I had washed away the sweat and grime, Pyria arrived. Even now, droplets fell from white hair along brushed strands, tickling skin on the back of my neck and wetting the rim of my slim-fitting purple shirt, the scent of lemony sweet soaps still wafting strongly as perfume. The cleanliness is nice, the smell distracting as it melded with my teacher’s Chamomile-esq perfume, creating a kind of aphrodisiac, and it was distracting.
It hadn’t helped that she wore a buttoned, beige shirt with part of her cleavage showing, the black leggings and dark brown skirt nearly form-fitting. There was utter confidence in the display, as though it were the most normal thing, and whether she knew the look drew my eyes she had not shown or said anything,
Moving my arms to recline against the dining table we sat at, I gave her a questioning look. “Ay lu col… or-li-ram-sarl?” I don’t understand?
She made a lewd gesture with her fingers and a smirk. “Egala amaam msaam rphes?”
I only caught the words ‘guest’ and ‘night,’ but I knew what she was asking.
“Ru… col-wu-sa… wu-sala-lie-roo. Teriani miela.”Nothing happened. She left.
Her brows shot to their fullest height. “Prianoffe?” ‘Really?’
“Laric.”
“That is quite surprising.”
“Did I miss something with her? She didn’t come off as the most approachable.” The switch to English was welcome.
Pyria shrugged. “I cannot say. There were always rumors of her temperament being… not unlike Doreiithea, yet very passionate to a fault. She’s famous with Loyieda for specific reasons.”
“She’s famous?”
“In certain circles, especially those who follow the arts of pleasure and romantic theatre.”
Well, I never thought I’d blow off a celebrity, but it raised questions as to why she was sent (like an escort), and what ‘circles’ were involved. I didn’t think I was that special… or rather Thelamein didn’t seem to be important enough for someone to curry favor with, aside from the fact that I am/she is a sex symbol and a political bargaining chip…
Shit…maybe that was it?
“Just who sent her? It sounds as though she didn’t come here by her own will.”
“It was Naberoa who helped with her visit.”
‘Helped’ but did not arrange. For anyone else, I would’ve chopped this up as an oversight, but Pyria struck me as someone who was very deliberate with her word choice. “You’re not gonna tell me?”
She made a ‘guilty’ gesture. “It is not my place to say. Ays aur col de vmsaien su cirian.”
I wasn’t about to press her on the issue. It was out of my control if there were others trying to influence me, to what end I didn’t know, but I found this both amusing and weird. It felt like something you’d see on Game of Thrones or House of Cards (when those shows were actually good), not unlike the conspiracies you’d hear of government backroom dealings.
For now, it seems harmless.
“Naar aur egala wsarl sarl sarrmie?”
The words ‘hand’ and ‘ankle’ were there, though I was initially confused by what she asked. Bringing my right hand up, I examined where its laceration had been, seeing a pinkish scar that faded with each day.
“De… wus-arl aur… h'afl,” the hand feels good. “De sarr-me aur h'afl,” so does my ankle.
It had been more than a week since my ‘escape,’ since I had sliced open my hand and twisted my ankle. In hindsight, it seemed unusual that I healed as fast as I had even with the rest and (admittedly reckless) workouts, remembering from past experiences of similar injuries. Was it my body or something else? I didn’t think it was medicine or drugs since I hadn’t been taking any, at least not to my knowledge.
Nabe might have the doctor’s notes.
Our lesson went on similarly as it had prior days. Praise was given for understanding simple concepts, things, ideas, greetings, manners, compliments, and even insults in Vinlis, and building on that we moved on to longer speech with some emphasis on pronunciation and grammar (with the consideration that I shouldn’t worry on those until I was at a higher level, especially with how difficult it is to roll my tongue on certain words).
Reading grew no less tedious, for repetition and word association were constants, and I knew (against reassurance) it wouldn’t be any easier the further we went. I got the sense that Pyria disliked this for the same reason, having done her best to use different texts and exercises, all the while trying not to insult me by using (too much) children’s literature. Reflecting on my past English teachers, I didn’t envy her.
Come to think of it… if they managed to digitize minds, couldn’t they have digitized knowledge? Why not just ‘upload’ Vinlis into my head if that were the case? It was an oversimplified thought on how the brain worked, and perhaps too much can go wrong if one too many neurons were… overwritten? Added? Augmented?
Dude, how does biology even work?
At the end of our session, after assigning (‘optional’) work, she began packing away her belongings, but not before pulling out a peculiar, old paper-back book that I couldn’t tear my eyes from.
“Wyn-eli bi-erl xiy-sas… g'afr…?” I tried asking where it came from, my mind sputtering on its last fumes as exhaustion creeped in.
With a click, Pyria snapped her case shut, then looked to me as she brought the book between us. A frown fell upon her as she spoke, “She thought you would want this.”
The cover was of an orbital, photo realistic shot of Earth and another planet like Earth but not (and not like Kessithi from the images of that other book), the continents and oceans different, both with the backdrop the Milky Way, and between them was a white ship miles long, that of gigantic solar sails of numerous layers, engines which glowed blue, and of many toruses which spun along its center. I felt my heart drop when I read the English title: ‘Euphates, the Road from Sol, and Beyond Alpha Centauri, by Therik Laerson.’
I carefully grabbed it, afraid it would crumble to dust, the signs of aging imprinted as fading colors and tanning pages, added by worn edges and corners. The book was old, older than any of a Mark Twain, 1980s copied work.
“This is an original copy before we left Erda and Terra Nova. Do treat it well. I would dislike to see it ruined.”
“... Naar lu ay… lu x-xiysas?” How do I do that?
She smiled. “Keep it out of sunlight and away from moisture, do not fold the pages, and please use gloves.” From her nearby bag, she withdrew a set of white, cotton-esq gloves, just as I withdrew my hands.
“How much did this cost?”
“Really, Thelamein?” she tsk’d. “That is a rude question.”
A small smirk left me. “Maybe you won't mind answering now that I’ve asked?”
She gave a ‘frown.’
“I’m curious, that’s all.”
There was ‘ponder’ as her eyes drifted briefly. “It would be over 50,000 coins.”
I nodded. No idea what that’s worth.
“Naberoa… She also wants to say that she is sorry.”
“By getting me a rare book?”
“Whatever you did made her quite emotional.”
“Emotional?” It was the last thing I would think to associate with her.
“Yes,” Pyria snapped. “She does not look it, I know, but she has heart and compassion. Those… she could never forget.” There was a tinge of somberness as she finished.
I looked back to the book. “... She should have given this herself.”
“Maethe,” ‘perhaps.’
Without excuse, she stood, grabbing her suitcase and duffle bag. “I will not be here tomorrow. Ay rayff col gie weli sudunaricu,” Pyria added.
“Saco-wil-ir… dee-milsa?” Is it another meeting?
“Ru, ays aur xiyie Cauirs Velvaeth Naamaylirian.” ‘No, a holiday.’
“Ler-j-lar ays.” Enjoy it.
She left.
I kept staring at the book and gloves, deciding to slip them on, grabbing the ancient piece and headed for the main bedroom. Not a page past the synopsis had I read before falling asleep on top of silk sheets.