[Finals] Surrealism and Rain

Cool raindrops trailed down the willowy figure of a tan, outstretched hand, sending shivers down to its owner. The drips came slowly; each felt surreal, like a moment frozen in time, broken only by the next. The woman standing there experienced a touch of wonder with each tender drop; an ordinary rain was, even after all the astounding things she had seen, a new experience.

Lluvia—rain.

It’s a word we only have because of the lands where our language has its roots. There is no rain in Rubato--our rivers draw water from the humid north. Rain…seems to have this strange kind of ability to echo your thoughts back to you.

The lone, pensive figure drew her hand back, and resumed making her way through the dreary downpour, her cloak hanging about her in wet, drooping folds as she trudged down the streets. The fog rose up in sheets off the dun-colored stones to meet her, deafening the sounds of her footsteps, and rolling about to enshroud everything in coils of wispy, vaporous gray; not a person could be seen for meters through the dense, swirling mist. For a time, there was only her, and the subtle sense of apprehension that seemed to blanket the town.

As she continued on, a blurred yellow sphere drew her dark eyes from the street; a diffused bit of radiance, hinting at signs of life. Under it, the youthful faces of children beamed, resolved by the streetlamp’s glow. She came to pass by them, lifting her face to nod in greeting should one of them meet her eyes, but was given a far different reaction to the casual, passing interest she had expected; the closest of them, a little boy not a day older than nine with light, sad eyes and a small mouth suddenly dropped the ball he was holding, and recoiled back in unknown agitation.

The toy came to a hard stop on the stones, so weighted down by the water coating it that it couldn’t even spring back up an inch from the ground. Unsure of what to make of the child’s reaction, Cadenza wordlessly knelt down to pick the ball back up from the puddle it laid so despondently in. The boy continued to stare at her with a sort of silent horror.

Cadenza put on her kindest smile, and in the gentlest voice she could manage, she held the ball out to the boy and said, “Ah, here…you probably should go back inside to play until it’s dry again, because it doesn’t look like your ball is going to be much fun in this weather.”

The boy’s thin, pink little bottom lip quivered, and it was only after several silent moments that he reached two cold, shaking hands out to take the ball from the woman’s grasp. His two friends had already stopped playing and were watching quietly at this point; the same terror could be read on their cherubic little faces as that of their friend.

The gypsy rose; she couldn’t recall ever feeling this self-conscious before. She considered her own appearance—and instantly, remembered the fact that she carried a dagger and bow with her. Normal in some places—but not in others. Especially not around kids.

“Erm…are you afraid of my weapons?” she asked the boy she had returned the ball to, “I know they might seem scary, but I won’t hurt you—I promise.”

This did nothing to pacify the boy—if anything, it only seemed to increase the horror read on his face. Discouraged, Cadenza turned away from the group of children to continue her walk. I don’t know why I bothered with that stupid little—

--her thoughts, however, were cut short by an unexpected reply from the boy. “Don’t go,” he said. His voice wasn’t afraid any longer—it was pleading.

The gypsy whirled back around to see the child reaching for the sleeve of her cloak. “What do you mean ‘don’t go’?”

“Don’t…”

“Yeah—I heard that. But I’m going to need a little bit more in the way of reasons. Just a second ago you were trembling at the sight of me—and now you’re begging me not to leave. What’s going on?”

The boy exchanged glances with his two friends; hesitant, sad little glances. Something about the way they were treating her—how they acted like a doctor breaking bad news—made Cadenza more impatient than ever.

“What is it!?”

“We saw something!” the boy blurted out.

“Saw what?”

“We saw you—you lying in a pool of your own blood, taking your last few breaths in life. We saw you—dying.”

A momentary flicker of shock and agitation ran across Cadenza’s face—merely a flicker—before she resumed her outwardly composed, indifferent look. A touch of skepticism, or maybe denial, colored her features.

“Very funny. How, exactly, did three kids like you see something like that? I haven’t sensed any magic around here.”

“It’s not magic,” the boy explained, “You’ve happened to wander into a town full of psychics. We can see the future—and we can read your thoughts by predicting what you’ll think next. And what we’ve told you…we were struck by the vision of it from the moment we saw you.

“You’ll be in danger, Miss Madrigal, unless you stop now and get off the streets.”

Cadenza started to reply—but her answer disappeared in the surprise of her name being spoken before she gave it. “I was…just about to mention my name. Thinking of the very sentence it was going to be in, actually. I…”

The boy shot her a grave, almost apologetic look. “We’ve…never really been wrong, Miss. Thank you for my ball, and…be careful.”

With those words, the little band of children drifted away into the foggy streets and the pouring rain. The gypsy was left again with that surreal feeling; and it was in deep thought that she resumed her trip through the town. Could those kids be playing a joke? It’s pretty likely. Just…that look on the boy’s face. That couldn’t have been anything but real fear.

Well...I guess if this truly is a town of psychics, then someone’s bound to give me another opinion on the future.

The ashy haze that surrounded him might have clouded the senses of a lesser man, but to Chronos they were little more than useless ambiance. He sat in total darkness, the purpose of which was probably meant to create the sensation of mystery. Chronos felt nothing of the sort as he waited patiently for the woman in front of him to speak. So far, she had sat in the chair on the opposite end of the table, tracing apparently meaningless lines on her crystal ball. How much longer must I endure this? The woman, a gypsy of indeterminate age, had her eyes closed, and hummed under her breath, trying to read his mind.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the lady opened her hazel eyes. Chronos looked up, but she shook her head under her heavy shawl. “I am sorry,” she whispered in a heavy accent, and clasped her hands in her lap. “There is a veil that I cannot penetrate. There is a cloud I cannot look under.” She lifted her face, and gazed curiously into his cowl. “What are you?”

Disappointed. Your town’s claims of universal psychic prowess are in much need of review. “I am Chronos,” the dark man said simply. “I do not know anything beyond that.” His hand curled tighter along the surface of his staff, and he leaned it against his knee. “Could you be more specific? What exactly is preventing you from reading my mind?” The gypsy sighed, then leaned back in her chair.

Before she started, she stood up to reach a hookah pipe hanging on the nearby shelf. “Would you care for some?” she asked politely, and offered him a second tube that extended from the water pipe. “It is a hint of cherry, with a dash of tobacco and vanilla.” Chronos waved his hand away at the offer, so the gypsy took a deep drag from the hose. The pipe gurgled lowly, then stopped as she removed her mouth from the device. “The problem is not that I could not read your mind.” She exhaled, and more hazy smoke appeared to cloud the room. “The problem is the composition of our people’s ability. I will explain in more depth.” She coughed lightly, then the ebon knight noticed that she began rocking in her chair. “Our ability is based upon the simple fact that we can read thoughts, and thus read the future of a person from these thoughts. They give us insight into the person and allow us to predict their movements. Do you understand.”

The dark giant nodded, so she continued. “But with you I cannot read your thoughts, as I said earlier. It is almost as if-”

“-There is an armor that shields my mind from being read,” Chronos finished. Of course. The MetaSkin composes the structure of my entire body, so it is natural that my brain should be made of it. “My brain has a defensive shield that is probably blocking you from reading my thoughts. Is that it?” The gypsy woman, thankful that her powers were in no way at fault for the session’s failure, smiled.

“Yes, my child,” she replied. “Your mind was acting in direct conflict of my abilities. I sensed some sort of block.” She took another drag of the hookah hose and blew another cloud of smoke into the room. “But I would like to ask, if it would be all right, why you came to me in the first place if you knew this block existed? Was it to waste my time?” The Dark Eye shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I had a theory I wanted to test.” So…if I am right, the MetaSkin is the cause for my amnesia. Something must have happened to me that caused the metal to mold over my brain and, during some sort of traumatic experience that caused the amnesia it protected me by destroying my memories. “I wanted to see if my inhibitor had anything to do with something.”

The gypsy hummed. “Interesting, child,” she mumbled, drawing once more from the hookah. “Well, while I am sorry that I could not be of help in reading your mind, I am happy I could help with your soul searching.”

The Dark Eye laughed lightly, though the sound of it was dull and empty. “I would not call what I am doing soul searching,” was his answer. “So, you are sure that you could not read my thoughts?” She nodded, and her hand trailed over the crystal ball once more to rub off an unseen speck of dust from its surface.

“Quite sure,” she said in dismay. “It is like trying to break through an invincible suit of armor with a wooden blade. I could not do it, and I am the finest of us all in this town.” Chronos picked himself up after that, and reluctantly placed his staff upon his back. The roof, which was not very large, brushed against the giant’s auburn hair as he rose to his full height.

“Thank you for your time gypsy,” he replied, then retrieved a small amount of silver coins from one of his inner coat pockets with his right hand. “For your trouble.” The giant dropped two small pieces of silver onto the gypsy’s circular table, then turned toward the door. Like breaking through a suit of armor with a wooden sword, eh? Very good metaphor. When he left the shop, he looked up to see the drizzling rain above his head come down like a soft vapor. That is exactly what I needed. Rain. Grumbling to himself, he heard the door to shut itself with a resounding ding before he proceeded down the street. The sky, as dark as his clothing, watched over him.

Well, this proves that the MetaSkin is in some part to blame for my condition. He had long suspected this, but it hadn’t ever been confirmed by the Dark Eye. Even if I could not learn about who I am, I did manage to gain valuable intelligence. The light rain mostly missed him, and only pattered occasionally against his trench coat. It also matted his hair, something that Chronos did not think was a good thing. If it gets too wet, it will seep into my skin and rust me.

The giant stopped at a street corner to allow a small horse and cart to pass by before he stepped onto the cobblestone street. He listened as his boots created the regular clanking noise he was so accustomed to, and continued his walk on the other side of the road. I have nothing left to do here. Perhaps I should leave. But he decided otherwise. Maybe further researching into the strange psychic abilities might yield something interesting. With that new mission, the ronin headed right down the road, where he had spotted some children with the abnormal powers earlier. The three youths were still there, all playing with the same ball. “Hello, children,” the giant hissed, right behind the back of the leader. The child dropped the ball, but it was recovered by one of his friends. “I have a proposition for you.”

When he turned around, the leader’s face was panicked, and Chronos saw it in his eyes, which turned from their usual sadness to bright and bewildered. “W-what do you w-want…?” he asked, in a tone that indicated terror. The other children followed his example, but they all huddled up in front of the masked giant. Chronos noticed that all three were staring at his belt.

“I thought that you children were simply inept, and could not read my mind because you are not fully developed,” the man growled. “However, this does not seem to be the case, as your elder seemed unable to read my thoughts as well. Why is that?” None of them answered, but he did not expect them to either. Now that you have scared them, meld their minds to your orders. “I want to conduct an experiment with your psychic powers, it that clear?” All three nodded at once. “How often do strangers arrive in your town to get their fortunes read?”

“Every day.” The leader, who had not spoken, was surprised to see that one of the others had replied to the giant’s inquiry. “Our village is pretty popular.”

Chronos nodded. “Good,” he said. “I want to do a quick study on your abilities, as payment for your uselessness. The next time you see someone, I want you to tell them that they are going to die, and be descriptive.” This could be an excellent psychological test. If people believe these children are psychics, will the prophesy carry out even if it is a placebo. “I’ll be watching, and I’ll know if you don’t do it.” He allowed the silence to finish his threat, and the children got the underlining meaning, for they nodded and went about their business. The ronin walked away after that, retreating into the shadows of a nearby corridor to watch his experiment in motion.

He didn’t have to wait long either. No less than ten minutes passed than a young woman headed down the road in their direction. She was dressed strangely, with some sort of strange purple butterfly thing in her ebony hair, but then Chronos didn’t judge others by what they wore. The drizzle he had noticed earlier began to get slightly worse, and a fog had gently drifted in where previously the air had been perfectly clear. The Dark Eye watched as the woman engaged the children in conversation, and the beginning of his experiment.

Let the game begin.