Waking life spills over into Dreaming. Dreaming doesn’t always stop on Waking. There is a change on this side of the somnolent line, and I have been able to trace its beginning to one particular night. Of the two events that happened then, I can not discern which one is the cause of this change. Not can I tell if the change is a temporary condition that will fade away with time, or if this is a permanent adjustment. I’ll find out eventually, I suppose.
Was called to the terrace. I tried ignoring the summons, but the sudden earworm would not relent until I had committed to an answer. “No. Not going. Not after the bullshit there. Go the fuck away.” The earworm ceased at once. It returned again ten minutes later with a strange undercurrent of “Please”. Damn my curiosity! Okay. Fine. I replied I would come at my convenience. I never said it would be my earliest. And I never said I would come peacefully.
I stepped to the terrace and was immediately overrun with grapplers. I wasn’t in the Angelus armor, nor did I have any weapons drawn. I’m glad I didn’t. The grapplers were like children to me. I easily dodged them and used their momentum against them. A lot of faces slid into the dry dirt. Elbows were softened by various soft places.
“Don’t hurt them too much, please. They need to be able to learn from their mistakes.” A figure stood in the shadows under the trees. The voice was familiar and tired. Very tired.
“Are they children? They mob like such. Come on, guys, you have the strength but not the coordination! The individual is defeated, but maybe if you work together…” They had the body proportion of human adults, but were half my height. The tallest of them only came to my waist. They looked at each other in confusion then all ran to me at once. “Oh. And don’t think you know all about your opponent on first sight.” I hunched down in apparent surrender. My cloak became wings, and as I stood I swept a wing outward. Gently I stopped their charge and pushed them all back on their asses. Most cried out in surprise. A few laughed and giggled like children at play.
“These are children. Literally miniature adults? Or will they grow as their understanding does?”
The shadow shifted under the trees. It’s rare that an entity can hide in darkness on this terrace. “Depends on if they survive their educations. You are a welcome change to the usual harshness. One moment. I must send them on their way.” The figure moved away from the tree. As the shadows separated, I saw the figure’s left side was dominated by a series of wings. The right side of the figure held none. It took me a moment to match outline to memory.
When I realized who was the caretaker of the ‘children’, I caught my breath. Ke heard me.
“Don’t. Don’t say my name. Not the name you know me by. I… I must send them to their next teacher.” K called the youngsters to kir with a stiffly moving right arm. They ran to kir quickly, as if forgetting that I was there. Ke pointed to the distance. They ran and jumped off the terrace becoming airborne motes of light. As a group, they flew away, leaving the scarred and deformed entity on the terrace with me.
Ke turned towards me and started to cross the terrace. “You’re okay. Good.” Kir left side was whole, with alternating black and white patches of skin and wings. Three glorious wings moved subtly to counterbalance kir limping gait. Kir right side was horribly scarred. I had noted ke was missing three wings when ke stood in shadowy profile under the trees. I forgot about that fact when I saw the rest of kir. The entire right side of kir body was a horribly shade of ashen brown. It reminded me of chicken skin that was forgotten in an oven. The colors of kir skin should be the inverse of the coloring on kir left side. There was no such order here. The right arm was shriveled and nearly useless. The right leg was withered and bony. It wasn’t until ke had shuffled across the terrace to stand before me that I noted again ke was missing all three of kir right wings.
I was the one that sliced them off.
I cried.
“After what I have done to you, and what I would have done if you had not stopped me, you weep? Is this the ‘tears of joy’ I hear humans can brew?” His voice was so tired, it only deepened my empathic sorrow.
“I’d slap you, but you’ve endured enough, I think. No, you bastard, I’m not gloating over your injuries! I know you lost the wings by my hand, but I didn’t do… this!” I gestured over kir, almost afraid to touch kir. Quietly, I added, “And I’m not exactly proud of being able to best you like that, either.”.
Ke sighed. “I know.” Ke raised kir left hand to rest on my shoulder but paused.
“Bring peace, have peace. You asked me to come, I’m here. If you start more shit, or if your Lord uses you to start more shit, I will end you, and I will not regret doing so. So, if you’re going to commit Suicide by Weaver, then make sure to invoke my berserker nature for a swift exit. Otherwise, my friend is always welcome to touch me.” I was still in soft clothes and black wings. I made no visual attempt to arm myself.
Kir hand rested lightly on my shoulder as ke sighed heavily. “You came back. You didn’t have to. Nothing compelled you to return here.”
“Bullshit. My curiosity did. You know my weakness well.” I tried to sound upbeat. The visual dissonance between the entity I remember and the still wounded entity before me kept jarring me. Ke tried to smile as did I. Neither one of us could fool the other.
“I only removed your wings…” I almost said kir name out of habit. I took a deep breath instead. “I didn’t burn you. I know what I did to you. I didn’t do this.” I reached out to touch kir arm. Ke pulled away slightly. I respected the unspoken request and withdrew.
“Yes, you struck true. Your skills have improved considerably.” Ke looked away, in shame or concern, I’m not sure. Ke looked quickly about us then settled kir stare onto my face. Seeing that even kir right eye was clouded over threatened to bring tears to the surface again. “Shall we see how far your skills have improved?”
“You’re in no condition for an ass-whipping. You’re one twitch away from dismemberment. Don’t fuck around with me k…” I almost say kir name again but stop myself at the first syllable. It suddenly strikes me as odd that ke doesn’t want me to say kir name. A name that is really nothing more than a jumble of syllables that means nothing. “Why not say your name?”
Ke pulls lightly on my arm and leads me towards a series of stone benches in silent answer. As we sit down, ke pulls the cloth wrapping that served as a vanity cover away from kir right side.
“You’re learning things… you’ll figure it out.” Ke turns away from me slightly so that kir right side of kir back is full in my field of view. The sword strike that disfigured kir had cut through bone, skin, and some muscle. One great ashen scar was all that remained of three glorious wings.
“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.” My curiosity was as great as my prudence. I didn’t touch kir, but I looked at kir flesh with a different point of view. There is a reason I am called ‘Weaver’ after all. My first forays into world manipulation was through threads. If instead of looking at kir body as a solid three-dimensional form, what if I was looking at the projection of a thread? A life can be represented as a thread. We speak of knots formed by friendships and nerves frayed by circumstance. What if…
I saw a thing, a thing I could possibly manipulate. A thing I could reweave.
“What do you want me to do? Don’t play games if you don’t have to. Speak plain for once in your existence.”
“What am I, that has no name? What could I demand from you, that has a name? I am nothing. I was spun from nothing, and to nothing I will return. I am at the mercy of those that can grasp me. I am whatever you make of me.”
I muttered expletives under my breath at the non-answer. If I say kir name with kir in this state, does it freeze kir status and prevent restoration? Ke has no name, then ke doesn’t exist. Is that the punishment for teaching me too well with the sword? Or the punishment for my mercy? Fuck it. “You are whatever I make of you? Very well then. By your words, it is done.”
I almost laid human hands on the angelic flesh, but at the last second stopped my movement. Memories of all the times my flesh hosted angelic or divine essence cautioned me. This would be more than mere touching. Do I need skin to skin contact to do what I was planning? No. I just needed intent and focus.
I gripped my hands, calling the Angelus Armor to my presence. An eye-blink later, the nearly completely encasing armor sealed itself around me. Six wings of light emanated from the slightly glowing metal. The helm again completely obscured my eyes, but by now I have learned how to see without them.
I shifted my vision. Instead of seeing the three-dimensional realms I was humanly used to, I saw energy as interconnected webs of light. I saw the bundle of threads that represented the wounded entity. I reached into the bundle and carefully teased out the threads representing kir wings.
There should have been six intact threads glistening with the white and black alternating pattern I was used to seeing in the tips of kir feathers. There were three intact threads, and three broken threads. The broken threads had snapped back and wrapped around other threads, knotting and restricting them to near breaking as well.
Using the three intact threads as a guide, I teased the three broken threads free from the bundle and started reweaving them. I tried to start as far into the undamaged section as I could, but too much of my interference risked damaging what was whole.
Pull and spin and pull and pinch. Pull and tighten and let the released tension respin itself. As I pulled the broken threads up the bundle, I found the separated ends. Again, using the undamaged threads as a guide, I was able to reconnect the broken ends. When I released my grip, six black and white threads settled back into position within the bundle. The secondary damaged threads immediately started to repair themselves now that the constriction was gone.
I pulled my vision back to the three-dimensional rendition of the terrace. Night had fallen over us, a rare sight for me to see. There was no light save for the glow of my ephemeral wings. I worried about being spotted.
My worry was forgotten when I looked at kir back. The scars were mostly faded, but no wings emerged. I bit my lip trying not to cry at my failure. I slid a gloved hand down kir back, feeling for any bump, any growing protuberance, any hint at a growing wing. The musculature was smooth as a human’s. But devoid of any angelic growth. Only three thin lines remained on kir back, looking like surgery scars.
My instinct welled up inside me. A desire for an unusual action tensed my muscles. My angelus form wanted to do a thing that my human form was not wanting to accept.
Kiss the scars? What ever reason why?
My six wings of light straightened and grew. If there was any wonder if someone unauthorized was at the terrace, I had become a beacon announcing as such. My angelus form was adamant that my work was not complete. Kiss the scars! Release the work!
I surrendered to instinct and leaned forward. I spoke no words, made no gestures. Only leaned forward and kissed the bottom scar on kir back with the only part of my body revealed by the armor.
Ke gasped and I backed away quickly. The scar swelled quickly as if a small balloon was being inflated under the skin. Just as I had leaned away, ke shuddered and the bubble popped.
A flow of light burst from kir back, originally in the same color as mine, as it extended it took on the shape of a right handed wing. It grew to match the size of kir corresponding left wing and solidified, taking on the proper black and white color pattern to complement the left wing.
I gave kir no time to rest from the sudden release. I leaned forward and kissed the middle scar. This time, as the wing erupted I was not frightened. It was all I could do to keep from cheering the restoration and healing that accompanied it.
I noticed that as the bottom wing was restored, the scars and withering that afflicted kir right leg faded and healed. As the middle wing was restored, kir hip and torso regained form and color.
Eagerly, I kissed the top scar. This time, as kir wing flowed back into form, I did allow myself the luxury of clapping. Never mind that I was the source of kir injury. Never mind that I was essentially healing the enemy. None of that mattered. My goal and intent was to restore the wings and heal the entity. And that was being accomplished.
Ke stood up and stretched six glorious wings, turning as ke did. Much of kir color and health had returned but the right arm remained withered. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I remained in the Angelus armor. I was expecting company to crash our private party at any moment. “I suppose this is the moment I say your name, right? To seal what was done?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Ke blinked at my refusal.
“Why not?”
“Because, my dear… you’re a walking trap and saying your name will seal us both.” I pointed to kir right arm. It had regained some color and movement, but remained uncharacteristically sickened. “You’re not yourself. What I saw, what I did, would have restored that. You’re bait, and your name is the trigger.”
Ke shook kir head. “No…”
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around kir. I gave kir the greatest hug I could muster. “Things are different now between us. You are ever my friend, but I am not ignorant to your nature anymore. It was your Lord that condemned you, it must be your Lord that raises you. Anything else, is damnation. Or worse.”
Ke did not speak when I released kir. “You know how to call me. I’m still stupid enough to come when you do. But I’ll be coming armed every time now.” I turned away and allowed myself to fall off the terrace. With six brightly glowing wings, I soared away from the realm and into full wakefulness.