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Pieces of a Story: Act 2 Scene 2

(Precious Pieces)

Unrepentant Romance/The Exile

[audio:http://dreamlandapparel.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Philip-Glass-Naqoyqatsi-Definition.mp3|titles=Philip Glass - Naqoyqatsi - Definition]

In the beginning there was Love. Like an untamed sea it crashed between the poles of Joy and Woe. Love was as much its own darkness as it was its light. Time unknown has passed since this primordial period; and what was once reality has now faded into the fogs of concept. The world grew old; aging from good, to gods, to men. Existence in its maturity longed for a return to its singular start. Yet, in pursuit of this purpose it failed to find its former solace; instead it birthed two babes, and Love became Lovers.

Two lovers walked. In that sanctuary of waves, outside the room of ruins, the Warrior and Fifth strolled hand in hand. She led him with her words, the promise of a gift. He was unaware that anything else could be called such after all she’d given him, but in the solemnity of her shadow he followed. Stopping in a space no different than any other he wondered as to why. This vast expanse had no rhyme or reason; just rippling waves that could be walked upon… and somehow held no moisture. As the couple stood still the waves worked in doing otherwise. Spiraling around them they grew into a tunnel stories high. However, the Warrior paid no attention to this thunderous whirlpool, his focus remained solely on his heart. She stood across from him holding her hands out before her, cupped together as though waiting for the mercies of charity. Her eyes peered therein, and though the walls shook with torrential fury the Warrior’s attention followed suit.  Within her humble gesture grew a tiny ball of light, and though their surroundings screamed she whispered to it. When her words were through the spinning ceased and the tube collapsed with a long reaching sigh.

“Hold out your hands dear warrior.” And so he did. Her grasp split, and the right reached forward with the light still inside. She blew the ball from her palm towards the Warriors high held hands. Dancing across the space between them it burst into a blinding flash. Yet it was not this brilliant beam that unsettled him, rather the weight that entered his reach. The familiarity of weight alone is an odd thing. Not many men know an object by its mass alone, but any man well versed in war knows the balance of his blade.

“Beatrice.” The Warrior spoke with surprise, “I thought her lost forever. They took her from me before I crossed The Kingdom’s walls. They told me arms were not to be trusted in the hands of a slave.” With an excited grin he danced with Beatrice briefly. The goddess smiled and stated, “it looks as though I am in competition for your affection. I envy the years she has spent in your hands.” The Warrior chuckled. “I thank you for the kindness and the jest, but why equip me? I’ve never held Beatrice without purpose and I fear you’ve found one for her.”

“If only it were the warmth of my body in your arms instead of the sword that brought you to them. But alas, truth is to be found and I am to be lost.”

The Warrior’s head collapsed. Her words struck the cords of his insecurities. His fear of war was supceded by his greatest fear of all, that his sins of love would at last be punished. The goddess tip-toed towards him and lifted his chin with a finger. She kissed him softly and said, “do not think I usher you away out of angst. You must flee from here because it is your destiny to do so. So the stars have spoken.”

“The stars?” He replied curiously. The stars were worshipped by The Forgotton, but such idolatrous imagery was not adored by The Kingdom or its armies. Nonetheless she spoke of them like his enemies always had, as though they were the organizers of fate. “Yes, the stars. And like the blade I blessed you with I shall equip you with the knowledge as to why.”

[audio:http://dreamlandapparel.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Wojciech-Kilar-Bram-Stokers-Dracula-Dracula-The-Beginning.mp3|titles=Wojciech Kilar - Bram Stoker's Dracula - Dracula The Beginning]

The waves dimmed in parts and brightened in others. And while the goddess spoke of myths they followed her phrases to paint the pictures she described.

There is a tale still spoken by the lips of few. Though the title speaks of ‘kings,’ let me tell you of twelve men and their quest to capture stars.

Humanity was born to learn from life as balanced by its death. The stars were set to watch them grow and guide them through the nights. Multitudes grew up and old, led by immortal escorts towards their mortal ends. With this process there came progress, and humanity found increase as its generations grew. Like building blocks atop each other people prospered as others passed. Society grew into societies competing for supremacy… until their ambitions combined. Their desires turned from the dust that created them to the skies that protected them. They believed immortality could be captured and so they set out to do so…

The walls that pitched and rolled with accommodating imagery suddenly faded into oblivion. No waves, no walls, no rooms or ruins. The Warrior’s eager instincts thrust his body before the goddess while he bounced about with blade in hand.

Above them there grew a crack, as though they existed in a shell bound for breaking. Believing this tiny fracture to be a great foe the Warrior raised his heels and put pressure upon the breasts of his feet. Anxious to strike his intentions were quickly settled. The arms of The Fifth drapped lightly over his shoulders, and her fingers reached toward his cheek to turn his ear towards her lips. She whispered, “hush.” The cracks grew and multiplied incessantly. And though the ground shook while the sky split the calming coo of the goddess continued, “our time for kisses and kind words has come to a close.” The firmament shattered and splintered into pieces around the embracing couple. “you must go now, and I offer you a final parting gift.” Before it could be offered up the vault above them came crashing down. Thoughtless action led the Warrior to throw himself and his beloved towards safer grounds. Atop him now the goddess continued despite the carnage which called for caution, “in addition to your blade, my body, and my heart I offer you this… my name.” In the corner of his eye the Warrior saw a curious sight. In fractured ceilings grander openings there appeared familiar details: stones that stacked atop each other until they touched a background blue and clouded, (like the edge of a building at the edge of a city). In the fullness of his eye rested a reflection far more entrancing, and this mirrored beauty spoke her final words, “My name is Surasundari, find me.”

In a blink of acceptance the Warrior’s eyes opened up to a world without the name that marked his soul. As if in mourning he spoke, “Surasundari.” Yet, the blessed utterance was wasted as the only ears to hear it were his own. Alone, he lifted himself up and found his blade beside him. His feet stood upon black sands, his eyes looked out to see the same for many rippling miles. She had told him to come and find her. He had before, and so he would again. With a sky of dismal grey he had no celestial markers to guide him. So he grabbed the beads from around his neck and rolled them prayerfully through his fingers. In the reverent wake of faith he stepped forward.

In the shades of hope he began anew to find his goddess.

Who once was a titled dream; who had now awoke with name.


Comments

  • Anonymous

    Love it.  Gotta read these all over again though.

    • Anonymous

      Thanks big bro! You, Amanda, Gwen, and Richie keep me writing. Having people I love admit to enjoying this fantastical romance really brings a smile to my face. I hope to get a lot of work done on the next piece while I’m up in Collingwood. The story line has fractured now, but it will still be following The Fifth (Surasundari) and the Warrior on their individual journeys. Brutus is going to get a lot more character building… and all of this crazy cryptic back story is going to be revealed piecemeal. So much in my head I want to get out still… I love Pieces!

  • Anonymous

    And so the perfect woman and guide becomes a blade – nice use of Beatrice. Actually, all of this is very cool – it’s getting more intricate and interesting as you go on. As for names, I’ve always been curious in the power of names, and it’s great how she gives the Warrior that power as her final gift. It leaves me wondering about his own name now. Now to the next part!

    • Anonymous

      Oh trust his name is coming… You pick up on everything. I brought the importance of a named blade over from all of fantasy lore. However, I am so glad I did now that I am reading “Game of Thrones.” Martin makes it a must! I have so much planned ahead, but I am trying not to rush it as I really feel I am starting to build something great :) Thank you for reading as always. It helps a ton.

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