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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.
73RD DAY OF FALL 511AV INSIDE THE RED KING'S IMAGINATION
It has almost been a season since Jilitse had made a nest out of Alvadas. The many tricks and illusions of the city had kept her on her toes, and she lived her days involved with Animation. Reunited with her one true talent at last, Jil accepted the embrace of gradual change. The Nuit that was once so elusive and snappish was slowly becoming friendlier, more outgoing. Having Mekaniks and Golams helped her a lot, as the shop owner she needed to ensure that she kept the customers interested in her golems. It wasn't so hard. Usually saying that she used to be from Sahova helped, at least when the person she was talking to knew what Sahova was. Most often she would take the shortcut explanation, "It is no more than an illusion as it is magic." In a City filled with Illusions, you didn't fight with what you believe to be false. Not to say everything was a trick for the eyes. Sometimes the illusion collided with reality, and are undressed to become painful truths.
No one was immune to Ionu. Not even Nuits.
This particular tale would be considered Alvadas' touch on Jilitse. Perhaps her time on this world as a mage would not always be within the confines of her laboratory. Making golems was just part of her existence, just as a certain someone had told her before. It has often been mentioned to her by those privy to her tale, that she might be worth more than she thinks, and capable of thing more than what she claim to. Maybe, this tale was a sign - one of many - that she was now free of her past life, and must now forge her own road. That she can live again.
Jil was invited to join someone for supper at the Witherless Rose. Though wary of these kinds of invitations, she accepted it readily, as the person who made the request was a frequent buyer in her store. Jil wore a very simple dress, and her long black hair was neatly tied under her left ear, the long locks flowing down her chest.
The person she was going to meet was a man in a red cloak. She immediately caught the sight of him though she was still far away, as the ruby red top hat and crimson red boots stood out even from afar. He was wearing a sparkly red mask that covered half his face. It had an outstanding golden beak.
"I expected you to be different. I almost thought I'll have a quean for a guest." He commented. His voice was deep and rich. "It is a pleasure to meet you Madam Jilitse."
"The pleasure is mine," she paused, waiting for him to supply his name. To which he revealed, "Please, call me Jethro." He smiled at her. "I hope you were not offended by my impetuous remark . My friend often pair me with women of questionable ... "
Jil did not let him finish, lightly shaking her head. "There is no need for that. I do not let myself be affected by petty things. I would say, however, that I can be quite forward with my opinions. I was advised that you have a delicate taste in conversation. We are strangers and I know you not. I am somewhat concerned that we may not see eye to eye in many things." The Nuit was finding it easier to talk to people, to communicate her ideas. That often meant voicing a Nuit's take on things, which was often very different from a pulser's take on things. She had a feeling she didn't want to spoil this night.
Jethro was agreeable. "That shall be easily resolved. Shall we?" He bowed to her and offered his hand for her to hold. A though she was mostly unaffected by the gentleman, she was pleased that he had good manners.
"You do understand that given the..." She didn't want to turn him down, but it seemed like they were not only meeting at The Witherless Rose, but they shall also be spending time inside The Witherless Rose - a matter most distressing for a Nuit who do not need to eat or drink.
"I have considered the many possibilities." Jethro was really easy to get along with. "And you need not fear the boredom of my company."
Moments later she was led to one of the tables. It was a four-seater, and Jethro ushered her to sit together on the same side. He asked Raenah for two glasses of wine and requested that the white rose on the table be replaced as it is wilting, and he only wanted the best for his lady companion.
The wine was delivered and a fresh red rose stood in front of them. Jethro politely excused himself, as he would need to eat. Jil simply nodded and waited for Jethro to finish his meal. She looked at him rather endearingly, as he was a voracious eater and didn't conceal his happiness at his chicken.
"Ah, that was a most enjoyable meal. But you don't talk much." He placed down his napkin, "The night is ours to enjoy Madam Jilitse." He took a gulp of his wine. "Do you have any interesting stories to tell?"
"Except for the busy life as a shop keeper and the chores that go along with it." She sat elegantly, and there was something frail and delicate in her movements. She was obviously undead, though she smelled not rotting. It was a subdued scent of moss and rain water, a perfume that was given to her sometime ago.
He eyed her curiously, and it was then that Jil noticed that he had dazzling blue eyes. The mask's color was a great contrast. "Mesmerized?" Jethro asked when he noticed her static stare. Nuits, after all, do not blink. And then he laughed, "I hope the mask does not make you feel uncomfortable."
"On the contrary, I hope the stare does not make you feel uncomfortable. Why do you conceal your face behind one," she asked, "Is there a scar or birth mark that you wish to hide from others?"
He smiled, "It would be a long story, and would require us to meet every night. Maybe I will tell you one day."
"I am sorry, I should have not asked," she placed a thoughtful finger on her lips.
"Don't be," he charmed her, lifting the hand and bringing it close to his lips. Jethro kissed his thumb instead of her hand. He noticed, of course, Priskil's mark. "That is something you don't see every day. I would love to hear more about it, if you would not mind." He bargained with her, "Let's see. if you would tell me the story behind your gift, then I will tell you the story behind my mask."
"A fair trade." She said, and he agreed, "A fair trade."
"On one condition." Jethro smiled a little menacingly. "You will have to tell your tale in the most imaginative way possible." As he said this, he removed his top hat, revealing thick black hair. It looked unmanageable, something that would not bend to a comb.
She stared at him dubiously. Jilitse had her share of telling her story to others, and here Jethro was requesting for, perhaps, a little more entertainment. "I am not sure I understand what you mean."
"Ah, think first how you feel about Alvadas." He continued, "It is a City of Illusions, a place that challenges the sanity of those who has no other reality than the one they believe in."
"I agree," she said, "A Nuit like me, whose memory is a perfect record of past events, has a really hard time navigating through the streets. Never passed the same street twice. I try not to be bothered by it, and more often than not I find my way around."
"Some would call that adaptation." Their conversation rolled in, "You have a particular quality in you that allows you to stay around." She had the ability to adapt to change. Jilitse yielded to Alvadas, instead of opposing its nature. Jethro let out one word. "Imagination."
Jil added, "One would assume that an inventor like me would need exactly that. For the mind is often the frontier of what we are capable to do. There are those who dream, and those who make their dreams happen."
"Interesting comment. We seem to be on the same page." Jethro lifted his glass raised it in a toast. Jil did the same, though she did not take a sip of her wine. "Now I would like you to focus your attention on our table."
The Nuit did exactly so. "Imagine a board," he suggested, "Made of 8 x 8 square tiles of alternating colors. Red, white, red white. Do you see it?"
Jil could, but only in her mind. "There are two sides to this game," Jethro helped her to imagine, "The pieces you should be familiar with, but if you can't remember, see them again. On this side is the White side. There is a Queen, and beside her..."
"The King," Jil helped continue. "though he is incapacitated and cannot move. However, he is still flanked by friends and loyal people." He asked, "Which one are you?"
"The white pawn."
And that night, in front of them was a chess board only they can see.
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
Jethro assisted her in determining the pieces on the board, and Jil noticed the interesting parallels. The Queen was none other than Priskil and the King was the comatose Aquiras. The Nuit said, "At least I think they are. Am I right?"
"This is your chessboard, Jilitse, you are the storyteller, not I," he told her. She would draw other parallels later, but for the meantime her eyes were pulled towards the opposite team.
"The other side," Jil said in half-disbelief, "the red team. I know who they are."
"The King?" Jethro asked.
"Sagallius Hrinn."
"And the Queen beside him?"
"His Champion, Drainira."
"The important pieces are all set. I would happily oblige myself to listen." Jethro said in a less-than-commanding voice. "Please, the opening move."
"White moved first. Pawn took two steps forward," Jil said. "I managed to run away from Sahova, I am faced with another pawn. The challenge, Aelobius." A pawn from the Red team moved forward, blocking the advancing White pawn.
"And how did the battle turn out?" Jethro asked. And Jilitse soon found the Withering Rose disappearing and she was now standing on a large chessboard. She was the White pawn, dressed in royal white. Jethro was by her side, listening to her story. "Fascinating, isn't it?"
When the look of disbelief marked on the Nuit's face, he reaffirmed with "Why do you look at me like that? It is fascinating."
"But, where are we?"
"We're in Wonderland, Jilitse. The place only you and I know."
"Only you and I?"
"Yes," his mysterious aura brightened. Where were they really? "You are in my dream, Jilitse. You are merely a figment of my imagination." She felt dizzy. The whole room appear to be spinning.
Some of the chess pieces have now begun to change, shaping themselves to form faces. Jil fought the urge to blink. On the square across her stood Aelobious, or at least a copy of him. He was mad and shouting and laughing, the way he was the last time they met. Somewhere a bell sounded.
"You didn't deserve to join the Project Jilitse!" He mocked her.
"Your turn," Jethro goaded her.
Jil paused and steadied herself. The game board slowly spinned to halt. "I couldn't defeat him on my own." She admitted, "He had many advantages over me." Behind her, a white pawn moved forward. "There was a particular someone," she said, hiding Marie Suzanne's real nature. "Marie Suzanne. She threatened Aelobius. Saved me from death." Some of the pieces on the board moved. A White Knight, ready to slay the Aelobius pawn.
Jil continued on to narrate her trip to Syliras, of meeting Stitch. On the board, Stitch's piece, also a White Knight, came to face another Red pawn. The game's battlefield was too large and the enemy's face too obscure. An advancing Rook made Stitch fall back. Backed by the White Queen, Jilitse was able to move forward another square. The Red Queen dashed forward diagonally across the board, threatening Marie Suzanne and taking Jilitse by surprise.
The Nuit knew how this tale ended. It still pained her to tell it to somebody else. "There seemed to be no choice, then. The White team lost the White Knight in the form of Marie Suzanne. The White Queen, Priskil, defended me, the White pawn. Her advance made the Red Queen, Drainira, move backward." Her words magically moved the giant chess pieces, but some of them responded to somebody else's command. A number of pieces were wiped from the game. Some fell and shattered, some lifted up and spirited away.
Jethro clapped, "I am enjoying this very much! The Red Queen is either biding her time, or is devising another plot. Ah, I see. Perfectly understandable!" He realized how impolite he was, "Forgive me. I shall hold my tongue from any further comment."
The dizziness and the spinning world came back. Jil took his words seriously. “I fear that I am slowly…” Swiftly, Jethro stood by her side. Hold it together my little gambit. The story is not quite over yet.
"Of the future we are always uncertain. But in this game you have to learn to plan ahead. Use your best pieces wisely and choose the most effective strategy."
Two pieces, pale like the color of frosted glass, appeared by her side.
Jil closed her eyes and leaned on Jethro. They held each other's hand. She continued talking, "I came to Alvadas searching for something."
"The Bishops. Albretch and Baird." She suddenly felt weak. What exactly was happening?
"What team do they belong to?"
"I do not know which side they are on." Jil shook her head. She didn't want to play this game anymore. Why couldn't she tell her story like any normal person would?
Jethro was not letting her go. She was in his dream, in his imagination, after all. Of the bishops, he said, "But they have to be on your team. They have to be your White Bishops. How will you conquer the game board without them?"
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
"What will be your next move Jilitse?" Jethro asked and then suggested, "If you are to advance forward as you are, then you shall be defenseless, worthless against..." he pointed to the opposite team. The red army, sure and strong. Intimidating enemies of justice and truth and faith and hope. Jil fought for loyalty and love. But to fight meant sacrifices, and she had placed pawns in front of her before. How many more amoral decisions for the sake of Aquiras' restoration and Sagallius' death?
The Red Army made its agile advances. No uncertainty, and with a firm goal to dominate the chessboard. Jil felt so small a pawn, hindered by the tile she was standing in. Jethro quipped, "Have you forgotten something?" Jil shook her head because it really hurt to think, and she was not about to rationalize. "Look behind you Jilitse. Fallen pieces can be replaced, comrades will never leave you." He nodded, blue eyes jumping out of his red mask as he stared into her dead static stare. "You are not alone and you must acknowledge that."
And then it dawned on her that she had been telling her story wrong. Perhaps it was that she had forgotten humility, or maybe it was pride or being used to solitude - she had never considered the people behind her as part of her struggle. "Coordination and unity with others." Jethro raised a finger and waved it side to side. "Is something you inherently lack."
Now Jil found herself cornered by a Rook and a Bishop of the Red team. She remembered Drainira's words then, that no matter what she chose, she would always lose. The light in her heart diminished by a small margin. Hardly visible to the naked eye, but her confidence shattered. The red pieces shone in the dark like pulsating blood. They towered over her and made her less courageous. Bitterly, she declared, "I resign." Her acknowledgement sent the Red Team pieces to rejoice, and they jumped on their tiles, tremors vibrating on the floor. Jil whispered, "The sad part about the end of this story was that the White Team held dear all its members. The Queen would mourn this loss, as she was compassionate and all the pieces were friends." Quite frankly, she didn't expect herself to give up so soon.
"Tch." Jethro smirked, "Madam Jilitse, I did not expect you would give such an ending to your story! I guess it cannot be helped when you undermine your strategy and overestimate your enemies... Allow me to perform a retelling of the story... " And he began narrating, almost as if he was talking about her fortune. The man in the red cloak (and red top hat and red trousers and red everything) controlled the game, inspiring her to lead the White Team across the board. White Pawns forward! Knights charge! Rooks defend! Bishops support! His voice invited her to listen and she noticed that in telling a story made of success it was important to rivet the attention of your audience. In this game, she noticed, the White team responded to his energy and encouragement. He told a positive tale, without regret. His chosen details were filled with hope. The importance of team work and a solid team resounded in the game board. The united White Team against the menacing Red Team.
It was a fierce battle, and soon Jil found herself inching forward, vulnerable to the Red Queen's threats. "Now madam, a piece of unsolicited advice. What you have forgotten to include in your story - and listen here because this is very very important - you have neglected the fact that were the comrades who promised you victory. You remember don't you? As you have declared at the beginning, the King is flanked by friends and allies. Put value in your alliances and you shall be rewarded with victory." A White Rook was supporting her from afar, it had a face she could somewhat recognize... the Isur, Ialari Pythone. "She would assist in bringing down the Red Queen," Jil continued the story, "and together - all of us - we are everything. Behind me would be my allies in the light. Stitch, Torc Ironwood - those who are with me, and those who will join me." She did not have time to look at those fighting this fight with her, all the people rallying to help save the King. Kamalia Timandre and Gromhir, future comrades, together with Jaeden Kincade, a good friend. "And we shall conquer. Damn right we shall conquer."
Noticeable only now, was the warmth radiating in her hand. Jethro pointed out the obvious, "Follow the heart of your goddess and you shall always walk in the light. In my mind, you will always be a burning candle." A tickle in her brain sent a message: she must be terribly bewitched. A voice of reason was now crawling out, pulling her mind away from the really pretty illusion of the big chess board. Jethro made sense, but what benefit did he get from imagining Jilitse into this game? "I've told you my story," so she said, "I think it's time for you to tell yours."
"So it would seem madam Nuit." He agreed, "Your tale was concise, but was lacking a little heart. You could do better." He paused before adding, "Both in telling a story and your..." he waved a hand to Jilitse, pointing at her from head to toe, "unlife in general." The man in red clothes chuckled.
"Are you ready to hear my tale?"
"Yes."
The world twisted before her eyes, that the Nuit had to close her sight to let her mind grip what was truly real. Jethro's voice became a murmur, and she was back in the Withering Rose, alone, a White Rose and a glass of wine in front of her.
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
Disconcerted, Jil pushed herself away from the four-seater table. It was not every day you go out and meet someone for a blind date. Maybe it was that you hated the possibility of your date walking out on you. All things considered, Jil did not even dare calculate the notion of being stood up, as she had been foregoing her Nuit’s logic to her gut feeling to learn the ropes of living in Alvadas. “Jethro couldn’t have just... vanished!” She whispered in anger. There was color in her voice in rare occasions. The people from the next table threw the Nuit a cursory glance, but judging her to be just a little addled, continued their meal and conversation. Jil flattened her palms on the table, and swept the tablecloth with her fingers, as if to make herself believe that the table existed, and that it was real. She fingered the bud of the rose on her table, stopping only after a white petal fell off. The silky touch and unsoiled snowy color, the scent of a real flower - Jil wondered if she was having another daydream or illusion, whichever ended first.
No, she refused to admit it. It felt so real, even when they played the chess game. Jilitse bent her head to the mystery, and noticed a stain on the table cloth. She rubbed it with a fingertip and smelled the residue. Jethro’s meal. He was here. The operative term here was “WAS” – He was here, yes, but between now and before he disappeared, what happened?
The confusion brought Jilitse to sit down once more. She wrapped her fingers around the solitary wine glass and lifted her drink. She sniffed the spirit, and noticed the glint of frosted words: “Drink me.” She swirled the glass and did so. The alcohol was hot and burning in her throat. There was an aftertaste of something sweet, and then there was a mild headache. She felt herself swaying, swaying. "Wait, it's too fast to be even..." Intoxicated, would have completed her sentence, but she heard someone calling her name. Or at least she thought she did.
“Jilitse?” The voice said. It was a rich and dark tenor, “Jilitse.” Kind yet with a sense of urgency.
A finger snapping in front of her. A bubble popping. A golden beaked red mask. Blue eyes. She finally recovered.
“Wha--"
“Thank goodness! For a moment there you looked truly catatonic.” Jethro said, relieved, so he finally relaxed in his seat and pulled himself closer to the table. He was about to finish his meal. “I know Nuits can be inert for long periods of time. But help me, if only for tonight... please do not do it again. It is somewhat daunting.” He paused, checking to see if she was listening, he waved a hand in front of her face, “It is daunting, yes?” he nodded, waiting for Jil to nod as well. Jil nodded as well. Though her heart was not in her nod because she wanted to ask, “What just happened?”
Jethro gave her a wink and chewed down his last spoonful. “Ah, that was a most enjoyable meal. But you don't talk much." He placed down his napkin, "The night is ours to enjoy Madam Jilitse." He took a gulp of his wine. "Do you have any interesting stories to tell?"
She already had this conversation before! Her memory said so. She leaned closer to Jethro, eyes taunting as she answered, "Nothing much. Except for the busy life as a shop keeper and the chores that go along with it."
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
Round two, rematch, Jethro was not letting go. Jil found herself once again on the large chess board, inside, as the man claimed, Jethro's imagination. It was the feeling of deja vu, like something had already happened. The question then was whether Jil was prepared to repeat her performance or not. "I've played this game before." She told the man with the red mask and blue eyes, "Only it didn't end so well." She resigned from her last game, that much she could remember, and if she understood correctly, Jethro commented that she was a lousy player and that her storytelling needs work. That was too pessimistic, Jil thought. Maybe the challenge was to play again with a different tactic?
She looked back and put into heart the things that she learned and realized from the previous game. She had to keep in mind that friends and allies of Aquiras and Priskil were on her White team. What she failed to tell Jethro was that they were her allies and friends as well, comrades in the fight against Sagallius. This was a lesson that she had not learned in real life, as Jil often declined invitations of alliances and had a hard time befriending people. No, wait, she did befriend a few along the way, but at one point or the other whenever the relationship was put on the line, Jil would be too selfish to let go of her inhibitions and she would choose to sacrifice the friendship. Regrettably, so. The point here is that she fought her battles alone although she was not.
When would she learn? It would probably take a long while. For the last 500 years, she lived in seclusion, no company but herself. "The idea of needing people is not something easy to understand," she told Jethro, "not when you trust no one but yourself."
"A Pawn is just as important as the King." He spread his hands out and admonished Jil to look where she was standing. "Each and every piece is fighting to win, and in that they should be united."
"Are we still talking about chess," she asked flatly, "I am beginning to feel confused."
"Hush," Jethro smiled enigmatically, as if telling her his words would apply both in this storytelling game and in real life, "Remember Jilitse, all for one and one for all." The logic of it would stick into her mind soon enough.
"Now, kindly tell me your story, once more." His blue eyes sparkled, "Not as it is, but as you hope for it to be."
She gave him a look full of awe. "But the bargain," she began, but he continued for her, "The bargain was for you to tell me the story behind your gnosis. I am not satisfied with the piece you have presented, and I do believe I've got the right to demand a better one," his voice resonated in her heart, "after all it is my story in exchange."
Jilitse realized that the point in this story was not to deliver uncertainty and pessimism. That her real story did not unravel itself over her failures and mistakes, but by the hope she carried in her heart. Disappointment can only be a shadow. The true tale lies in one's determination. What was the untold story inside the Nuit's heart.
At this point the chess board lit up, renewed by Jil's awakening. The White team glowed and she was blinded. Her sight returned to a board of black and white, her side were crystal glowing pieces and the enemies glinting onyx. New game, new pieces.
"Pawn, forward." She was the queen's gambit. Priskil was open, and so was her Champion, Dina, the two were the Queen and the Bishop respectively.
"The black team would approach cautiously," Jil surmised, "And they would play non-symmetrically. Choosing to use underhanded tactics with cunning. Also, Drainira would be too proud to think of the forward pawn as an enemy." The Queen's gambit would be declined. "The Black would play aggressively, and the White team would lose control of the board."
The Nuit gave a side glance to Jethro, who seemed amused. If she told it all wrong, will her make her retell the story again? He caught her eye and she pulled her gaze away.
"But our team could make a good comeback if we gather our forces!" The pieces danced on the board, Jil's side would, "Take control of the right flank and the Black team could suffer a handicap from losing some of their minor pieces." Like that Pycon who repented from using Cordas. "There would be others to drawn into the light, we can defeat them one by one." A knight and bishop from the White team fought together to abuse the Black pawn's weaknesses. "It would be harder to subdue the bigger pieces, those ranked with a second or a third mark from Sagallius." Jil demonstrated how the White team could take control of the center of the board. A light inside her was shining, coaxed out by the confidence of having friends. "There is no need to sacrifice other pieces," she declared, "not when you can fight together." Another White Pawn supported Jilitse, and she defeated the Black Rook in the corner.
As she took its place, she turned around, realizing that she reached the end of the board game. Jethro clapped, and so did the pieces on the chess board. She now knew that she was capable of reaching her best potential through the help of other people, and she could pay it forward and help them back. Having done their part, the game pieces started disappearing into white mist, until only Jethro and Jil was left on the board.
"And the reason why I deserve this gnosis is that I am capable of friendship, and that I should reflect the same kindness offered by the goddess to others. To be a friend of Priskil is to be a beacon of hope." Jil closed her eyes.
In real life, she would remember and never forget: "All for one and one for all." That she had Stitch's help when she went to Syliras, and the kindness in his heart shielded her from harm back then. That she will have other Stitches in her life, and that she should be a Stitch to others as well.
Inside the Red King's imagination, Jil was surprised to feel tears flowing down her cheeks. It was something Nuits didn't do, but in this world of make believe, nothing was impossible.
Last edited by Jilitse on November 20th, 2011, 11:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
A cold dead hand slowly being raised to her cheek, sparkling with its Luminance. Fingers uncertain, feeling the first drop of her fake tears. They were not there when her fingers arrived, and in an instant she was out of Wonderland.
Back in the Withering Rose she stared at her wine glass. Her hands were on top on each other, gently posed near the edge of the table, her posture proper, and her face stoic. In the real world, her face did little to reveal her feelings. A tiny curve on her lips for Jethro appeared.
"Wasn't that enjoyable?" He proposed a toast. "Sure it was," she answered back, "There was even a moral lesson to be gleaned from it." She reached for her own wine, a little skeptic. Jethro waited for her to raise her glass. "To your wonderful and inspiring story, Madam Jilitse." He lifted it and murmured before drinking, "May it be as you said."
She just nodded and peered into the wine. Jethro noticed this, "You seem troubled." He moved his chair closer, dragging it even while he was seated. He placed his hand, large and warm on Jil's shoulder. She looked back at him helplessly.
Jil found her feelings stuck in her throat. She moved her eyes towards the red rose on their table. Was it really red? The Nuit was not used to being disconcerted by illusions and false imaginings. No, a season was not enough to prepare her to accept the world of make-believe.
"I find it amusing how much meeker you have gotten," he laughed from his throat. "When we met earlier, you said you were opinionated, that you shall not hold back your thoughts." Smartly, he slid his arm across the back of her chair and reached out for her shoulder. "Or was that lip service?"
The Nuit shifted in her seat, wary and uncomfortable of the red-donned man. "Jilitse," he teased her, "You're being silent again."
There was a sour feeling in her stomach that would not go away. Jil finally got the courage to spill out a few words, "That was really beyond belief." And to think that she went through the same illusion - or was it? - twice. "I apologize, I'm just a bad at rapid comprehension. It takes time for me to let it sink in. Nuits aren't blessed with the emotions of a living being." Pulsers were fickle. Nuits needed to decide on something before accepting it, for there wasn't a lot of room for changing minds later.
"I would describe that," she referred to the experience, "as harrowing. Enlightening in a way." A finger brushed her lips. "I remember everything, every part of it. The words you said, the actions I made - all of it." She turned her head to Jethro and she examined his eyes. She tilted her face ever so slightly to see if she could catch a hint of emotion in him. "Truthfully, I don't want to extend our conversation about it. But I just have to say, whatever that was..."
"It was my imagination."
"Your imagination?"
"Just my imagination." He said something more than his words conveyed. He had been insisting in his placid voice that this was all his imagination.
Jil found the colors and tones of her voice back again. She felt an eyebrow tick. "Are you telling me that nothing is real? That I am some character you conjured in your mind?" The Nuit was now sidetracked, "Then would you kindly explain how come I am still here?" She found it incredulous, and repeated his words, mumbling, "Imagination?!"
Jethro looked like he had the answer to her question. "Oh but that is simple. I imagined you." She felt his hand grab her shoulder and pull her close to him. How preposterous, she thought, but her mind suddenly raced for she was unused to physical intimacy.
She shook her head, pursed her lips, and declared. "Why, you are clearly mistaken!"
"I'm not. You exist as a figment of my imagination, right from the moment we met." He sounded serious, "I would have ended it the first time around. But there is something about you, not quite the way I expected you to be..." He used his shoulder to pull her closer, and with another hand swiped a loose lock away from her face. Jil jerked back.
He went on, "Don't squirm too much, Madam."
"I will not stand for this," she moved her back away from the chair, shrugging off the arm that went around her shoulder. "If you wanted to hear my opinion, then hear this: You are clearly deranged!" There was agitation in her voice.
He laughed, his soothing voice pulling her back. "I understand why it would be difficult to wrap your wits about it, but let me explain..." Jethro wooed her, like a man whose lady love was distraught.
"No. No." She repeatedly declined, "I just poured out the untold secrets of my heart to you. No. I will have none of your trickery."
"Alright."
"Alright?!" She laughed, unladylike and boisterous. "How can it be alright?! You have been accusing me to be nothing but a dream! My life, you tell me it isn't real!" It could have been a case of mistaken identity, of course. At the time there were many possible answers, but none of them knocked at Jilitse's consciousness. Jethro could have been a lunatic, someone who had no trust in the world and saw Jilitse as nothing but another of Ionu's devices. Jethro could have been joking, he could have been a jester, seeing that he dressed ever so fancily with his red cloak and red trousers and red top hat - red everything. None of these explanations appeared in Jilitse's mind. None of them was close to the truth anyway.
Jethro spoke, "But wasn't this what you asked for? The story behind this mask?" Now he was looking back at her with his blue eyes, pressing her as if she was behaving terribly. She had yet to connect the red mask and the golden beak to Jethro's disillusion that she was not real. All she remembered was that--
That split moment! She recalled. "No. You're the one who's in my imagination." Cold fingers reaching out to the flower on the table. The rose was red. No. The rose was not red, she denied what she saw. Jil swung her hand and caught her wine glass. Her wine glass had said "Drink Me." Jil wiped the spot where the words should have been. She was alone in the Witherless Spoon. It was Jethro who wasn't there. But he was here, she could feel the hum of his heart beating.
She was starting to panic. Jil was starting to half-believe that she was a portion of someone else's day dream.
The warmth of his fingers pressed upon her lips, preventing her to think further. Eye to eye and soul to soul. Jethro used his free hand to hold Jilitse's hand.
"Inside my imagination, I dreamed of someone who would agree to have dinner with me. We would dine and wine. And tell stories to each other." The Nuit felt overwrought. Jethro kept his fingers upon her lips, warm candles on her cold face.
"I dreamed of her over and over again. Sometimes she was an old lady, sometimes she was a young girl. There were times when she wasn't even human." Jil observed his words, there was nothing to read from his hidden facial expressions. "I would dine with each and every one of her, and she would reveal something about herself. I loved getting to know her. But she never asked who I was. She never got to know me."
"Who was the man behind the mask?" He said, and there was something overly melancholic in the way he said it. "You came very nearly close Jilitse. I truly enjoyed your company." The Nuit tensed at these words, scared to anticipate what would follow. "You are her that I imagined her to be."
Once he let her speak, she began, "No illusion could have given his imagination such a thorough backstory," The logic of this all was within her reach, she just needed to grab it. "I don't..." Understand, she would have said, but Jethro had cut her with,
"Can't you see, Jilitse?" He said, chuckling, "You are my best imagination, and I am not letting you go."
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
For what seemed like eternity, Jilitse was stuck in a jail of confusion. Jethro, the man in bright red regalia, smiled snidely at the Nuit. The confusion stemmed not from the doubt that Jethro sowed in her mind. But the hallucinations brought about by this date was too peculiar to be true. Or maybe they were too... weird to be not true, is what Jilitse was thinking. Eitherway, her rotting brain was having a hard time to understand what was happening.
She cradled her head in between two pale hands, while Jethro whispered confusing words in her ears. She didn't fight him back, not that she could even if she wanted to. He had amazing powers of suggestion. A question resounded in her mind, one that begged to be answered: Who was he?
Was he soulmist, a mischievous ghost haunting a random person? Was he a figment of imagination, so deep within the recesses of Jilitse's mind that he was embedded layer after layer? Was he an Alvad, merely having fun?
Or better yet, she raced to think, what was the Red King made of?
For he was a voice that sounded so familiar, and what power was he hiding underneath his clothes to be quite intimate with the Nuit's thoughts, how could he grasp at things that Jilitse knew not, but was there all along?
And as if waking up from a trance, Jilitse slowly raised her head. Her mind focused on the red rose in front of her, the wine glass that was empty. She refocused, mind rocking like a boat. And then she discovered that she was nowhere else, walking down one of Alvadas' many cobblestone now, dirt later paths.
Note :
This was written a year ago, when I thought it was fun to bring the Wonderland theme into my Nano. I had left no notes to myself as to who Jethro was supposed to be, but if I knew myself any better, the Red King is a figment of Jilitse's imagination, a recreation of people. Her father, mother, Mashaen, Stitch, Jaeden, Jasa'lah, Sagallius, Aelobius. She came up with a third person, the one who was neither White nor Black, someone outside of the so called "chess board" who would tell her one simple thing: She had friends, and she isn't fighting alone.
I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common woman with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
