52nd day of the 10230th year since the passing of Kriene
Any culmination of the doubts with respect to the drift soon getting used to – and bored with – each other’s presence with them only being six people would have to be postponed.
With the temporary addition of Linny Kiane – as an honorary driftfellow, the more permanent members had agreed -, Xara growing less shy with each passing day and even Felix appearing every now and then, there was a lot of hustle and bustle on the Opaline Tide.
The drift whose spirits were dampened and battered on the night of the prison break had recovered in the following couple days.
While the prison break was a criminal act at the end of it, there was a feeling of triumph which underlay their cheerful demeanour.
Linny Kiane had settled quite nicely with the drift, becoming the de facto younger brother of the group despite his appearances.
Even Xara – though initially apprehensive of his intimidating figure – had quickly warmed up to the big lad.
Sylviane thought his presence might do her some good in that her companion might feel comfortable assuming larger forms than what she had historically chosen.
But that was a long shot and a fool’s hope.
Sylviane did not mind being the fantasist in this regard.
All of them had sufficient time to become better acquainted with Linny.
With Zander having been forced to stick close to the eastern coast to avoid the monsters in the bay beyond, he had taken quite the long way, maintaining as much distance as they could to the northern coast – so much so that they’d even caught view of Wheelbarrow at one point: the penultimate destination of their assignment.
But their final destination would definitely be changed.
If Alaric was telling the truth – which he likely was, the man had no reason to lie -, Youvlon was in no state to be returned to.
But despite the man’s greatness, negotiating building a new faring base outside of lament, no matter the circumstances, would not be an easy task.
The general sentiment in the world (known to Lament) was that the humans had transformed the way of life in lament, undesirably so in the opinion of a lot of members of most sentient species out in the world that knew of Lament.
While those holding an opinion to the contrary had settled in Lament, most of the world remain strongly apprehensive to any way of life and technology coming out of it.
The Faring had formed a buffer in the sectors that lay just out of Lament.
Their way was more aligned to the natural order of things.
Their exploitation was sustainable and brought about in the form of equitable trade and commerce.
The Faring realised that the ways of Lament were not and never could be the ways of the world.
It brought ruin, it brought turning one’s back to the Becoming.
This shared realisation strengthened the ties between the Faring and the beings beyond Lament.
Sylviane, for one, wouldn’t want to be any place apart from the Faring.
But she still was in anticipation of their visit to Plemos.
There was a lot to see and learn there.
But it would all come in due time.
Right now she was more excited for their immediately succeeding stop at Quinlac.
Having not been able to relax properly at Fluviale, the drift was especially eager to take a mini-break at the next island they happened upon.
Sylviane personally was also happy to have had a few days in between where nothing much was going on: no natural disasters, no dragons, no prison breaks.
She had gotten a chance to install guardrails on all her driftfellows’ beds, which had been a calming, therapeutic exercise.
It afforded her the silence and peace of mind to just think while she worked.
Alaric and Venedir occupied much of her headspace during such times, whether she liked it or not.
She was surprised that Alaric had not come to see them (especially Linny) after their escape.
Linny was not so concerned in that regard.
He was sure of his friend’s abilities to locate him.
Which was slightly hard for Sylviane to believe considering Linny himself had no idea where he might go.
For now he seemed very happy heading to Quinlac with the drift – who he was growing increasingly friendly with.
Lately, the drift felt like it had eight members instead of its dreary six.
Sylviane was happy about it, of course, but also felt such happiness was temporary.
This was not a feeling to counter the unique warmth she felt amongst the eight, but also when they had only been six.
Maybe it was because she had always been apprehensive about the fleeting nature, frailty and volatilities of connection, at least how she experienced and perceived it to be.
Maybe other species were different or maybe even other humans were different But she, alas.
She felt the illusion of it.
The feeling of loss that had to accompany attachment.
It was the way of the world and yet it hindered Sylviane from truly forming connections all her life.
This hindrance came out in a manner that made her unnatural.
Her physical features, mostly her eyes, did not help in this regard.
Red, White and Black – these were the eye colors that rarely, if ever, occurred in humans.
It was almost instinctual for the farers (perhaps even more so for Lamenters) to feel uneasy around such gazes.
At least with the farers, they were so accustomed to interacting across several species that they were well-adjusted.
But they were more forgiving to foreign entities than they were to their own.
And Sylviane had tried hard to escape such malice and judgement all her life.
Then to hear Venedir judge his fellow farers so easily… how long until that judgement would turn on her own self?
She knew her appearance made Gwenyth uneasy.
It had seemed to her that Alaric had gone so far as to think her a vampire or some hybrid thereof.
But she was a no one, just trying to be her happiest.
She wondered if the feeling of belongingness would have been more permanent if she had a family, someone to go back home to.
The Faring promised her the world but had snatched her home for the dream.
No!
It wasn’t right for her to blame the Faring.
She was most likely an orphan or unwanted child.
But there was no one to blame.
She had only known of Faring her whole life, dreamt of it her whole life.
It is like God to me.
She thought dryly.
Oh, what has become of me?
People who put blind faith in deities and gods, even the God, were eager to credit them with all successes, justifying their actions even in their failures.
It seemed too childish and too stupid of them to do so.
But in fact they were using God to deal with the downs to soften them, as they softened the highs by crediting them.
But this idea of the Faring did not moderate her feelings – neither did she let it.
This God of hers was not benevolent.
It just existed in the form of an institution that gave and took away without consideration.
Sylviane was sure she deserved a much worse drift – or to be undrifted – but there she was.
And with such cavalierness would her drift be snatched away.
Whether it be half a year or half a decade or half a century from now, she was very sure that it would happen.
And that it could – and most likely would – break her heart.
She heard of people faring with different drifts all the time and it was bewildering.
What was at the heart of it if not the people?
The drift was supposed to be their family, their compensation for being brought into the world in the pathetic state of aloneness and abandonment.
Xara at least was a beautiful exception to this uncertainty Sylviane felt plaguing her.
Whatever forces of destiny and fate were out there had made them each other’s companions until one of their deaths.
Though with such certainty, came the insecurity that Xara’s lifespan was several times hers and Sylviane from a very young age had grown sure of the belief that Xara could not and would not love her as deeply as Sylviane did her.
It made her very sad at times.
It also made her feel ungrateful and unempathetic.
Xara was doing her best and she may have even lost companions before – though Sylviane could never bring herself to ask her whether she had companions before her.
When studying about the ways of life in Lament, the dominie had mentioned that the humans kept various kinds of pets, a superficial form of companionship which really was more about them owning and using non-sentient beings for their own comfort and happiness.
These pets’ lives were a fraction of their owners’ and were replaced many times through the latters’ lives, sometimes even before death.
During times of sadness and self-loathing, Sylviane liked to think of herself as a pet, with no true significance.
These cruel thoughts multiplied her sadness easily and let her feel more fully than in part.
Sylviane would always want to feel an emotion fully and be done with it, rather than having it egg at her constantly.
And so by fully emotionally exhausting herself, her emotions could stay at bay and just let her be.
Nothingness wasn’t so dull and boring as it was characterised to be.
Feeling something (or a lot of somethings) all the time was sure to numb one.
And so these days of ease and nothingness were well cherished by Sylviane, who was – on the afternoon of the fourth day after their escape – watching her driftfellows practicing combat with Xara sitting beside her in the form of an eagle.
The weather had cleared a couple days after they sailed from Rainy Village and it was pleasant enough to have a training session.
But a lot of Sylviane’s attentions were taken by the demon’s hat, swirling with every hue imaginable.
She merely had to think of a colour in her head and there it would be found on its surface.
Her eyes were drawn away then as Xara poked her arm with her beak.
“Yes?”
The eagle jerked its head in the direction of the center of the deck and then looked up at her.
“I don’t know… sitting here feels nicer.
It’s good to have nothing to do, no distraction, and have oneself be open to what is going on around them.”
The following squawk and poke made it clear that Xara did not think much of Sylviane’s philosophy.
“Why don’t you join them?” Sylviane countered with a grin.
Xara shook her head and poked her arm again before flying off.
* * *
It would be evening, still a few hours from dinner, when Venedir came knocking on Sylviane’s door – who after a heavy lunch, was sitting on her desk, looking through her computer system.
“Come in.
Sit.” She said, gesturing to the bed.
The guardrails were adjustable so that they would not be a hindrance in routine access of the bed through the course of the day.
“Fancy stuff, huh?” Venedir asked as he sat down, looking at her computer.
“They say it’s tame in comparison to whatever they have going on in Lament.” she replied and slowly spun her chair so she was facing him.
“Have you used yours?”
“No… not much.
Just to look at some maps.
It still surprises me that even despite Lament’s size and resources, they still want us faring into other zones.”
“Lament has long crossed the line from needs into wants, I would imagine.
Such gross excesses.
I feel it to be too much even with what we have already.”
“Maybe it’s a proclivity to want more no matter our possessions.
Even we were guilty of that.”
“Not on such a scale.
And something good came of it at least.”
“That is one consolation, yes.”
Sylviane then looked Venedir in the eye.
“That is not what brought you here, though.
You wanted to talk of something else, I imagine.”
“Very astute.” He smiled.
“But it is you that is not speaking your mind to me ever since we were at the lake.”
There was not much she could express to him as saying the wrong thing could extend the conversation and make her say much more than she had the capacity to.
“It’s just..
It seems you were so quick to pass judgement on our fellow farers when you don’t know their lives.
I admit that we have been provided with everything that can be reasonably needed to make a good childhood and a good life out of ourselves, despite how our origins might have been.
But sometimes that alone is not enough.
And people aren’t perfect, you know.” I am not perfect.
“Imperfection is fine.
But the glaring flaws in character I’ve seen a lot of farers show are not so excusable.
Even you said they were marked with condescension and competition and that you thought we would be better.”
“That is true.
To highlight their bad qualities is one thing.
But to so easily discard them from any positive thought and consideration from your end… if it’s that easy to fall from your good graces, who’s to say that we won’t be the next victims of that should we show some failing or imperfection?” Should I show some shortcoming?
Venedir was quick to protest, to his credit.
“No, of course not.
My judgements are only made when enough of their character is known.
I cannot claim to know you all perfectly, but all that I have seen only affirms that I have made the right choice in my drift.”
Sylviane couldn’t help but let her countenance become more relaxed, a small smile coming to her face.
“And will that ever change?” Venedir was quiet for a few seconds and then shook his head.
“It has never happened that my judgement in people has led me wrong.
And knowing you all, I don’t think you could ever do anything to make me dislike you.”
“I hope so.” Sylviane muttered audibly.
“I don’t see why you of all people would be worried about this.
You’re one of the nicest people I’ve met.”
She didn’t reply for a few seconds, then took a deep breath.
“You don’t… find my eyes unsettling?”
Venedir scoffed.
“What?
No!
They look quite cool actually.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah!
And even if I did find some inherent physical feature of a person’s not good, that would never be the basis of judgement.
That’s just biology.
My judgements are mostly character-based.” He said and then sighed.
“It’s ironic that you should be the one concerned about all this.
It is in fact me who should be concerned about your judgements.”
“What deficiency could possibly be there in you?”
Venedir sighed again.
“There is a reason I have been avoiding fighting these last few years.”
And then he told Sylviane the story of his first and last fighting tournament while in Faring school.
By the time he would finish, Sylviane was impatiently waiting for him to do so, wanting to interrupt but holding herself back successfully.
The moment he ended, she burst out.
“But that is not your fault.
You didn’t know the spirit could possess you and you did not kill him.”
Venedir scoffed.
“Like that should be the standard.”
Sylviane shook her head.
“You know that’s not what I meant, stupid.
I’m only sad for you that you gave up fighting – something you loved – to such a large extent because of your companion.
I’m also angry at your companion.
He sounds crazy.
No one should treat anyone like that, least of all a child.”
“It’s all true.
But consider this – he was chosen as my companion and I his.
In some fatalistic sense, it is meant to be and there is some part of me that would be resonant with the creature that he is, right?”
“That is all a matter of mutual cause and effect, self fulfilling prophecies, determinism versus libertarianism and what not.
Talking of it would surely leave the discussion inconclusive.
What matters is that you are better than that and that you will do anything to prevent it from happening again.”
“I guess that is true… but don’t you feel any apprehension or fear or disgust towards me?”
Sylviane shook her head and smiled.
“I promise I don’t… do you now see the merits of not judging someone polarisingly and disbursing your negative emotions so freely?”
Venedir smiled a little.
“You are too persistent.” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“Hey, you’re the one who came to talk to me.
This trouble is of your own doing.”
Venedir laughed a little.
“Touché.”
* * *
Sylviane found herself to be up and out of her sad moods by the time dinner rolled around.
Venedir and Gwenyth were cooking pasta and fish – the latter being freshly caught by Linny and Callie.
While the drift had been indulging in alcohol a fair bit since their shopping trip at Rainy Village, tonight was the night they had chosen for a proper party – as proper as it could get aboard the Oaty.
With everyone back to full health and with the crew touching ground on Quinlac the next morning, there was no time like the present.
The kitchen area with its small dining table was too small to do anything besides cook and eat.
And so Venedir and Gwenyth brought the food and alcohol to the group recreation area in the adjoining section of the ship.
While there was no table for the purpose of dining on, it was more conducive on the whole.
And so they were all lounged about on cushiony seats and couches, repurposing the table tennis table to hold on food and drink for self-serving.
“Dare I say, barring any official check, you really could be part of our drift as long as you like, Linny.” Sylviane said as she took a tip of whisky mixed with orange juice and ice.
While not having had alcohol till around three days before, she was warming up nicely to it.
Enough so that her mildly good mood was uplifted and she felt like getting to know the demon better.
“I have no plans otherwise, but we shall see.
I did not have much on my agenda but tourism when I came to Fluviale and it would be nice to resume it, provided you all aren’t going to involve me in… illegal activities.” He grinned.
“It’s your friend that got us involved in it in the first place.” Called Callie from the other side of the room.
“Yours too.” he retorted.
Callie snorted.
“If you’re being liberal with its meaning, sure.” She said with a grin.
“I thought you were supposed to like your companions.” Linny said, confused.
“Nope.” “Hell no!” “Fuck no!” were heard from Zander, Callie and Venedir at the same time with the others bursting into laughter a split second after.
Linny looked concerned for a second, but seeing the others laugh, he seemingly concluded that the disliking would not be a matter of great seriousness and smiled as well.
“You could get your chance at becoming a companion too someday, couldn’t he Xara?” said Finley.
The shapeshifter – who had assumed a human form tonight, same as she always did: with beautiful green hair and skin the colour of Sylviane’s – nodded slightly and spoke in an ethereal voice Sylviane had never heard long enough to get used to.
“Of course.
Though it is not your control, nor was it in mine.
You can merely let them know through your thoughts and dreams that you are ready to be bound to someone.” she said.
She was the only one without a plate.
She could consume food, of course, but did not need it for survival.
Her nutrition and sustenance could come through anything and everything.
“I think I would quite like to be a companion to a farer – or in general to anyone as well!
-, but I don’t like the sound of binding myself.” Linny said.
“And who is them?”
“Them is the universe, your destiny, fate, God.
However you want to see it.
Whichever force you believe in.
It will guide you to your companion.
Some beings have found companionship without even having it in conscious thought.
And do not view binding negatively.
It is not something restrictive or possessive.
Though binding might have been a poor choice of words after your recent experience.” Xara smiled a little.
Sylviane grinned and slapped Xara’s shoulder.
“We’ve got a new jokester amongst us, everybody.
Zander, your position’s in danger.” The recipient of the compliment blushed and shrunk away from the slap.
“Shut uppp.”
“I humbly yield.” Zander said smilingly and bowed, almost spilling his drink in the process.
Gwenyth scoffed.
“There’ll never be a bigger clown than you, though.
Don’t fret.”; to which Zander could only narrow his eyes at the speaker, lest he spill his beloved drink, which he’d filled almost to the top.
“You know you can get refills, right?” said Venedir with a grin.
“It’s more fashionable to have your glass half-filled.”
“I leave fashion for the high class societies of Lament’s cities.
I will only minimise my effort.” The navigator said as he took a big sip and sighed happily.
Once dinner was all done with and all that were left were the drinks, the drift slowly broke out into music in one of the manners that it typically happens: someone breaks out into a popular tune – that someone being melodious of voice (if they aren’t then it just annoys everyone and puts a damper on the party’s mood).
In the case with the Serendipity drift that night, that someone was Callie: inebriated enough to break her mostly staid demeanour.
The humming, when joined by Finley and Sylviane, gave Callie enough confidence to break out into full song.
It was a forecastle song if there ever was one.
Sylviane knew the song by heart.
It went like so –
I s’pose a’ was a jaunty bee in me life b’fore
Me thinks me was a brisky redwood in me time b’fore
Twas a dream, a beuful dream, but I am now arose
I’m a tender, oh a griever, for my maw and beau
I think ye was a slithery wretch in ye life b’fore
Yeaa
I know ye was a serpent king in ye time b’fore
And now ye glide and misguide all of us ashore
Oh you gator, bloody traitor, sold for some gold
I deem he was a mighty lion in his life b’fore
To be the good, the true, the ruler was his fate b’fore
And now he hangs sven bove the grond, haunting us, ignore
A lovely fighter, not so brighter, than the ash galore
She was a demon, mighty smither, in her life b’fore.
Fiery touch, blazing words, I’d worship her, ‘dore
Wa’ not she ember, ruined builder, just like charcoal
Spread so generous, waiting for him, oh so noble.
I lost my drift and I care not
I’ve lost my drift and I care not
Our laughs are asunder in this well of Kalandem
I lost my mind and I care not
I’ve lost my mind and I care not
I’ll soon be another and do better than suffer
I lost my soul and I care not
I’ve lost my soul and I care not
Maw’s knife hilted in a skull, unprisable treasure
I lost my heart and I care not
I have lost my heart and I care not
And so it went word by word, all of them singing the last stanza.
Regional dialects of the song differed widely and the lyrics prior to the final stanza were originally meant for one singer – typically of the same role as being talked of in said stanza -, but the chorus’ lyrics was quite popular in all areas in, and most areas surrounding Lament.
While the entire song was a sad one, the chorus in particular had the quality to bring tears to Sylviane’s eyes and with her drift’s voice singing the song of a drift’s ruin, added to Xara’s heavenly melancholic tone that resonated most in her ears, tears flowed very freely down her cheeks for the five minutes or so the chorus lasted.
Other songs were sung that night.
But weeks and even years later when she would think back to that night, the first would be the only one Sylviane would be able to remember with any vividness.