Birds Without a Voice

.

Miles to yards, swallowed by the sea

Time has become a healer

When your little arms beckon on me

Lord with the flaxen shards

A day in the life of a willow tree

Growing in the soils of a crusade

From any disease, my dear child

I'll shield you as a knight

Like a roundabout path

A red like velvet wound left

Anytime I watch the sky so blue

A view of an empty throne

I keep walking in my footsteps

Gray has become the stone

A heart that's left a hole

Under the crescent moon

...

♫Sonic Youth - Hoarfrost♫

July 08, 1778

...

— Good morning... – Lenneth woke up, with those words, not belonging to her own mind, but words spoke by her son, Jack.

Fever in the morning; fever all through the night. What she thought to be another of those products of her imagination, not as vast as the one that may be inside the head of her son, or any child, but a sort of imagination on a similar way as well, has now become another piece belonging to her reality. She was once a child, of course, but when you grown up, not only in height, your head is filled in by more than ragged dolls made of pieces of clothes or planting bean seeds to see them sprout in the garden, two kinds of ways Lenneth used to bring happiness to her self, when young. She's still young, though, each time the world 'youth' rang on her ears, or inside that head, it became an association of sorts. The younger the lady, the more attractive she is, or so randomly she reached that conclusion, by proper experience as well.

When Lenneth became a Dragoon Knight, on her sixteens, many thought she was a man, and who would blame her only, if it wasn't for that height, 70'', being 62'' the average height of many of her pretendants, and that red coat she used to wore around that female body. Leviathan Knight; after those words had been uttered, they all knew that she was a female for sure. Thought the clothes changed, to a common lime dress, an orange between brown apron, and a ponytail to wrap that once freed hair belonging to her, Lenneth still remained female, but now the details made her more than she ever had been, during the childhood, and this kind of adulthood. Lenneth became what her mother once was, or was taught to be like, by the cloth she used to wear, the ponytail she used to wrap that laurel hair, unlike the outfit belonging to his father, the main Crescent of the family, and so goes on, backwards.

The Crescent, a tree that keeps growing its roots generation after generation; still laying on that bed, even after she woke up, to prepare the breakfast, Lenneth later found herself, again, on same bed, where her husband, Bartholomew, or just Bart, who used to lay there as well, above or below the blankets, asleep or just too quiet, like usual. Bart would be there to say good morning to his beloved wife, but instead, his son was there, to take out of his throat such words. Jack also had to take more than a few words, but a sacrifice to his existence as well, she thought. When Jack, that boy, said 'good morning', he was there, sitting on that bed, on the same side Bart used to be lying above. On that same side, that crib, and those wooden legs, remained as well. How many days had been passed since Jack used to sleep on that crib, so near of Lenneth, his mother... No. Rarely, Lenneth was there, wearing of that Dragoon coat, and alike that side of bed, Bart used to be there, instead of her.

On that night, under those blankets, she dreamt of huge waves, tossing her into both sides of same bed. What used to be a sort of boundary alike a wall, or a floating device to be holded, has now become an empty space, another one to be filled in by a sea of blankets, and no island to be found, or to be sunk. It just dissapeared from the sight, that shadow, the silhouettes blended into the dark. Lenneth's favorite method of dialogue with herself always had been the daydreaming, on that same bed. Like a fish, she didn't closed her own eyes, yet she felt asleep, on a daydream. Nothing seemed to appear on her vision, as if she stood looking at somewhere, alike how her husband would do, if he was, at least, there. On bed, on both feet, sitting on a chair; monologue has become the favorite method of dialogue for Bart, or so it seemed to be.

As quiet thoughts ran throught Bart's mind, anyone else, near or far, wondered why he had been so quiet. Lenneth as well, but since she had become akin to his, she understood and agreed to Bart's own way of living. 'Quiet' was Bart, because everyone knew, by self-experience as well, that many boys, men aren't that quiet. They are meant to be restless, to work hard, or just plead for someone to work for them, when young. Jack as well, but whenever Karellen, that doll was near his, that infant just felt in silence, asleep as well, on a same way that head felt on her shoulder, both eyes closed, a breath from the nose felt into the skin... My skin? Rarely, as well. Bart was there to give him some comfort, more than Lenneth had ever done. She was restless, she needed to work hard, others pleaded for her to work more than she could. Ever since she was a child, Lenneth became a sort of magnet for the eyes of everyone.

Speaking of eyes, they only blinked. Lenneth couldn't sleep, yet she wanted to do it so. It was like the same sensation she felt after reading a book with many pages, and many words, many letters... Books aren't that fond for Burmecians, or Burmecia in general, though, on this same place, Lenneth is sure that, somewhere, lies a few exceptional writers, and their works, hid and obscured by the ones belonging to Avon, a Lord, and alexandrian as well. He seems to be known around the entire continent, only because of that 'I Want to be Your Canary', also a famous theater number. Famous because Avon was an alexandrian, and a lover; by the use of cryptic words, gender changes and unrelated topics beyond easy love, never they would be able to read some Burmecian books, or manuscripts as they had been before. That's why, alike the legends, fantastic tales surrounding the beginning of the Kingdom, short poems are spoken and memorized into lullabies instead. Not only these lullabies had the intention to make an infant sleep, but their main nature also surely would make someone fall asleep as soon as they could.

Someday, Lenneth sure will be eager to see adaptations made of the lullabies spoken, sang as well by her mother. Picks of her choice on those nights would include 'My Iron Tail' by Eijk, about a child in starvation, who went lost into a labyrinth, tring to find an exit only using of a bread, given by his mother, and its crumbs threw into the ground, to make a trail so he won't be lost; 'Breathing in Fumes' by Caineghis, about a Burmecian soldier who had gotten lost in the middle of the Mist; 'Pluck and Luck' by Bruford, about a little Prince, and its tutor, or maybe little Lenneth, a bit afraid, with her sister and brothers who already fell in their beds, and with the privilege given because of that broken arm, would plead to her mother to tell her once again the entirety of 'Birds Without a Noise', written by Freyr, brother of Frøja, founder of what would become the order of Leviathan Knights today.

A favorite of Lenneth, it's a poem about the love between a civilian and a Dragoon Knight, and the whereabouts of both due to one's duty. A poem as old as the cloud, for Lenneth, 'Birds Without a Voice' surely would beat 'I Want to be Your Canary', if the first had been written by an alexandrian, or anyone who lives above the Mist. Same would happen for a poem written by Frøja, entitled 'Moth-eye'; another favorite of Lenneth, a very short poem, a bit unaesthetic, about how her silver hair hid her beauty from the main world, alike how a mote blurs the vision, and whenever those strands opened up by the wind blew, a pair of frightening and liveless eyes appeared, as if a moth landed upon her face, to show of its wings, or so that's what she interpreted to be its meaning, if there was one.

— Good morning... – those worlds still reverberated into Lenneth's mind. Spoken by Jack, that child, that son...

What was once a Dragoon Knight who stood above the fertile soil outside this house couldn't even lay that head, staring with the face down on that pillow. Looking at the ceiling was her only option, because of that belly, pretty huge so far, a bit of uncomfortable, but what else brings more discomfort than the thought of a sudden death? The kicks, the punchs, whatever were those bumps felt inside Lenneth, besides the pumping of her own heart who, somehow, still pumped, they weren't that funny enough, never had been that much. Only a sign that the thing inside there is getting bigger enough to react, be noticed by the mother, and those around her, or that belly, as Lenneth had been born to become one. Some are born before the 'hour' comes, and some aren't even born after all. More than mere shivers are sent deep down that gray skin whenever those kinds of thoughts arrive on that mind. Can't she even bring a smile for that mirror?

Lenneth knew she had something else to do, other than lay on that empty bed, thinking of such things. By Sophia, whom she met on a row at the market, the Crescent had been invited to a chai party. But... would someone ever arrive on a place without a gift to be given? Lenneth didn't knew which choice was meant to be worse: if she had been gone to Sophia's house with empty hands, or butter hands who slipped of her gift in the middle of the path taken. Either way, Lenneth remembered about that piece of cloth, left inside the drawer. Made by knits, that cloth was enough to be fit in a toddler. Before the invitation taken to that party, Lenneth planned such cloth, made with a kind of care, to be wore by the infant soon to be born. But a gift can be made for anyone, as much as a Dragoon Knight lives for the sake of anothers, even if they do not recognize of such acts. So Lenneth, without any excuses left, wrapped carefully that cloth inside a casket, went downstairs, feeling the ankles and the pain that came from those, but as soon as she reached the front door and its knob, Lenneth didn't bothered about them. On those days as a Leviathan Knight, she felt worst than that mere pain.

Now, as Lenneth found herself outside the house, all she needed to do was to arrive into that party, before the chai meant to be drank got colder, alike that same skin.

...

Moth-Eye

.

There is a mote inside my eye

An eye between a moth

White miasma grew on the head

Jaws in the mouth

Fog glows in the dark

A white view without a room

Strands wrapped into a ribbon

An orange moth, silver is the moon

Wings blew by the wind

Tears shattering the mirror sea

They took away my amethyst

I can't see anything

Without the moth being feared

...

I closed the main door, and windows as well. Don't know where Jack went, or where he is to be found. But I'm sure that he'll be safe, since he already knows how to do many things on his own, althought I still do a lot of things for his. He can't reach the upper cabinet, as much as I do with a single hand. None of them can do it on their own. Not even I could, until I grew up, and so did my limbs. For anyone who wishes to be a Dragoon Knight, the legs must be prepared for the jump. Not an ordinary jump, but a jump of heights. Many rookies who came in those grounds to be trained to become Dragoon Knights had put all of their efforts to do a single jump on magic, and only. But magic, spirit, or the will of God alone won't do anything. Preparation comes first; both physically and spiritually. To be, achieve into a Dragoon Knight, or anything else, means that you don't need, or have to put everything on others shoulders. A Dragoon Knight is the one who carries on the weight, and drops the sweat as well, besides carrying on the duty of protecting others beyond his sake. More 'his' than 'hers' can be seem around these lands, as it seems.

Sometimes, I keep wondering to myself if I only did the job of being one of the few Leviathan Knights only because I am a Crescent. Now, I can't do anything, besides protecting you there, and to be protected by others as well. Like that house, and those walls, both who kept me dry from the rain coming from outside, as they had been, still are from any distance, being watered by this same rain pouring down onto everything, including me, but not you, my dear. Not yet. Those walls will sustain you, but not for too far long. Soon you'll be walking there, on these streets, these stones, wearing of some little gaiters to cover your feet from any disease, or any vermin that crawls under your skin... am I frightening you? I'm sorry. Don't worry, because I'll hold you, and I am tall enough for the ground and its dirt to reach your feet. I'll also make some gaiters for you too; if not, I may ask Jack to borrow some of his for you.

...Can you, at least, hear me? You can't sniff, touch, lick, bite, moan, cry, look at, but at least, I know you can hear me. I can also feel you in there. I'm glad that you are still alive. I'm also glad that I didn't ate, or drank anything that could harm you as well, since you are still there, alive, and kicking. That's a sign that you are alive, right? Funny... I didn't felt Jack as much as you do make me feel you. And yet, no matter how much I had been these days... Falling asleep yet? Yes, the rain is quite pleasant today. Cold, as well. While you are in there, wrapped by those red blankets, I am here, wrapped by this lime dress, as much as this hair had been wrapped by this ponytail, and my legs stuck on these streets who share of shame color as my skin. Fortunately, I seem to be in the middle of the way to Sophia's house. I had been invited by her to a tea party, and I won't dissapoint such invitation by no means. The gift inside the box seems alright, as well. It was meant to be your gift, but don't worry, I'll make another for you as well.

— Hi Lenneth – I heard my name being uttered. At my back, a voice so familiar... It is your aunt, Theresa, followed of her daughter, I believe to be her own. Theresa had so many sons, yet she seems to be followed by an only one, and it's a girl. My sister always had such kind of affinity to flowers and fruits. Arancia, Fraser, Aeron, Oliver, Durien... and Heather, that cute girl holding of that leg belonging to her mother.

— Hi Theresa – I replied, as I came closer to her. Who else would leave the other one on its own, when on a conversation? Besides, she is my sister, and relatives, siblings are not only tied in blood, but in intimacy as well, althought I only seem to know Theresa mostly of them all – hi there for you too – I looked at Heather. She grated me with a wave of that little hand. Little girls like Heather also wear a kind of green dress, and a kind of orange ponytail at the back of their hairs. Besides the behavior that distinguishes a boy like Jack from an angel like Heather, those bends seems to appear even on such age. Heather Crescent... Not a bad name for a Dragoon Knight.

— It's been a long time that I don't see you – how convenient that they all say the same. Unlike her mother, Heather had nothing to say. The only time that I remember seeing that child was when I holded her, on my arms, still wearing that same red coat, whom I also used to disappear from her sight, if she even developed some around that time. Same for Jack, althought I saw him grown up a bit, but that wasn't enough. Now that I'm wearing of this dress, I've became part of the mass, and I always had been such, though anyone belonging there, where I am stepping into with these polished nails wants to become what I had been once. Others want to become what I became now, with you residing there, within me. Theresa also noticed this belly; huge like now, anyone from a distance would.

— Well, Theresa... Since that day, even if such belongs within those monsters, I haven't tried to expurge of any life, but I just let it grow – for a while. It won't be soon enough for me to return, to be standing near the Palace's doors, the grounds where they train to be a Dragoon Knight. Without me, or any Dragoon Knight on its surroundings, Burmecia would fall apart. Heather would be gone; Jack would be gone, or so I thought. I came to realize that it's not only me that become such Dragoon Knight. There are many of them around this place, as much as Theresa always holded of heathers on those hands, as much as I always found a way to put Jack on that crib, without noticing of my presence. Heather is still holding, tied to that leg as well; not by any chance she will unhand of her mother, as it seems. Same for this gift, and the compromise that surrounds such. Speaking about the compromise, Sophia said that I could invite one more person. I guess that my sister and my niece are enough – Theresa, what would you say if I invited you to a chai party? I can invite, at least, one guess, and I just wanted to known if you wanted to...

— Oh, thanks. But you known... no thanks. I have many mouths to be feeded – she said, leaving already, holding of Heather's hand, and a basket on the another – I'm sure that you'll find someone else to follow you to that party – yes. Someone else, besides you there. I guess the chai is already as cold as this rain. Theresa... I didn't even had the time to say a thing, an 'okay', or to just nod positively, or to even say 'goodbye', with a single waving of my hand, alike Heather did. Goodbye... Maybe I said it before, when I became such Dragoon Knight, but now that I step on the same ground, wearing of other's clothes, I'm unrecognizable. They now know that I am a female for lenghts, because of this bends. They knew that I was a Crescent, because of that coat, and this hair, freed or not, have nothing to say, alike this same mouth, same lips, all made to attract some attention from their sight. Same for this chest, who seems to attract danger, and shields to avoid of such.

— No such cloud, or the grief of this squall, or any kind of lightning will hinder us from meeting each other, right... Lenna? – as if the 'Crescent' following of my 'Lenneth' given by mother became my name, only a few people called me by the first name. Parents, siblings, some relatives, and some of my acquaintances, like that Dragoon Knight there, or, should I say, Sir Ezekiel Chardonnay. A Bahamut Knight, wearing of a navy blue coat, and a helm missing from my head, alike the many features of a Dragoon Knight, but there is a scarf on his neck instead, covering half of the silver escutcheon they all carry on above that chest. I used to wear some kinda like that one as well, before you made an appearance, my dear.

— I thought that you wouldn't make an appearance, Zack – Ezekiel... he jumped right in front of me, from atop, on the same way rain pours down over me. Besides those features of a Bahamut Knight, he ain't a Burmecian, like we do, but someone who shares of a brown skin belonging to a Liber.

A denizen, an immigrant of Vube; his friends, foes disguised as such, used to call that little poor boy, that by 'dormouse', because of that same brown skin. I also called him by that as well when we were children, but in a way unlike others. Because of closure, we start calling people by nicknames, or we just shorten their names instead. For Bart, and the same happened as well for Zack. He also calls me by Lenna not only because we were close friends, but because of the way he pronounced my name as a child. 'Len-nae-ty'; and so it remained Lenna for his. I seem to be the only one who ever called what once was a boy by 'Zack' before his ascension into a well-respected Dragoon Knight. How could I be so close of his, if others didn't? That's why. I wasn't part of the group who kept uttering 'he never took a bath after he felt into the mud', althought I called that boy by dormouse like anyone did, but not with the intention to harm of his dignity. How could he have fell into the mud, if he was born on that same way? That's ridiculous. More so than the fact that everyone seems to respect his, and that outfit. He even looked at me, as if I was a civilian, to be protected by that spear above.

— So, how is your wife? – I asked. I didn't knew a single thing about Zack, except what I've learned during my childhood to the days we've spent training as Dragoon Knights. He gave me that same look of always; always when I was there, dressed in red. Now I seem to be caughting more the attention of his regardless of the costume, or the fault of some. I didn't mentioned to his yet that I was going to a chai party, but we went walking anyway.

— I don't have any, Lenna. You know, this job is too much for me, as it would be for her too – he said, looking away from me. The way he mentioned 'her'... Dragoon Knights have a tendency to marry each other. So did Harland and Eleanor; father and mother. But as soon as we were born, mother stood with us, while father was sometimes there, and sometimes not. Now he ain't anywhere to be seem, besides that grave dug at the cemetery. He was a good person, like mother, like Zack too.

— Nice scarf – I said, as we both stood still. I don't ever recall Zack to wore that brown reddish on his neck. He even allowed my hand to touch such thing. It felt a bit raspy, alike a carpet, or an unfinished knot, or so my hand told it so for me. It seemed as if he ripped, tore apart the skin of a lizard, yet I couldn't feel any scales belonging to that piece of scarf. But I know, for sure, that such scarf must had been made, or belonged to something else, I don't know what. Zack sure wants to tell me about it, with the look of a curious child I gave to his with my eyes... It's been a long time, isn't, Lenneth? Rarely, I would do it so on training, because of that helm, and that hair covering them both as well.

— Impressive, isn't it? – yes, it is – this scarf, unlike others made of silk, was sewd from the dried intestines of so many beetles and weevils that I can't even count with these fingers... Uh, I guess this one, and the spare copy I also have gotten, togehter, make out 60,000 beetles, and weevil's fibers as well. It's said to repellish the flow of lightning sources by dispersing it on thin air, instead of my body as a whole. Heh, I wear this just in case I am been hit by a lighting bolt coming from the sky, or above the ground, or if casted by a magician as well.

— And does it really work? – I asked, as if any Burmecian aphrodisiac worked well, and also for the sake of those poor beetles, and weevils. It must had been quite an awful day for them. And for those maggots who had gotten boiled to become many of my cravats. I would like to wear them again. It has been a long time, sure it is, but, on those days, besides my hair, Zack kept looking at my cravats, the white of my neck, so did Bart. Same for the ribbon atop this tail.

— I'm not sure, but, you know, Frigg also wore one kind of same scarf, and at least, I feel more secure than before – he said, as secure as it is to become a Dragoon Knight. One thing that I admire, coming from Zack, is that he fought so much to become what many tried to achieve into, and yet, many failed to do it so. Preparation, not magic; I also had to be prepared for this job as well. My name is Lenneth Crescent, not Descent, after all. Speaking about descent, Zack kept staring at my chest, noticeable for everyone, as if there lied a little dormouse of his like. Well, I'm sure that something is still lying in there, and I hope it so to be true.

— I wasn't ill, deranged... you see – Zack heard me, with that head crestfallen to my belly. He sure was worried back on that day. Sure I was worried of his on those days. I'm sure that Zack only looked at my eyes when I was as young as his, on that age anyone else mocked his. The purple of my eyes couldn't be compared to the same purple of his joints, his ankles, his eyes as well, though they are green, like the majority. Now he is a Dragoon Knight, whom the majority wishes to become, so I did what the majority told me to turn into – sometimes, I may feel dazzled, and disposed to hurl everything out of my throat because of the smell of a few fennels from a distance, some even outside my house, but that's a problem that belongs only to my head, not my spirit. I ain't sick... just a bit tired of this routine. This job is too much for me as well.

— I see. I may not feel the same as you do, Lenna, or even imagine it happening to myself; it can't happen to me, never will do, but someone near me, like you, may feel such things. Like, you can't see these people crying if they stand walking under the rain, letting the water falling from the grey skies pour down on their own faces. Even if they didn't stood in there, they always find a way to fake a smile, a smile nonetheless, alike how a Dragoon Knight does everytime. If you don't mind... – I didn't, so Zack holded of my hand, a bit cold, yet the one belonging to his was warm enough to masquerade of this single condition, not only belonging to my hand, but my body as a whole. He holded my hand, not so tight as the ribbon belonging at the tip of my tail, or loose enough to allow me to be lost, of his, because I'm already lost in myself.

Sir Ezekiel Chardonnay... we went walking together, alike a couple. We are both Dragoon Knights, or so I had been one once. Still acquaintances, old friends, carrying on of old wounds as well. But since we had become two of the few Dragoon Knights of same Jugend, people of all Burmecia started to treat us on a different way. More they had given respect for Zack than me, already born on these wetlands. Not enough of a Deity we are to be venerated, but the name of Bahamut and Leviathan stood with us, or within our outfits. The navy blue stood, as the red went gone from my sight, his as well. The Lenneth many knew went out of commission ever since that day, maybe a scoundrel day, maybe a blessful day; either way with a single life gone, came another, as usual. And when something new is settled, new rules are also settled as well.

They treated me on a different way as soon as I became a Dragoon Knight, soon as arrived into the age of consent, and when either Jack and you there arrived at this same place. Lectures about what you should, shouldn't be doing, as I pleaded with my eyes, not enough were the unspoken words, and the discomfort coming from those, some knelled in the ground, stranger's hands, who touched of my bump. So sudden were the appearance of those random people, who came across my way to the market, who usually would do that anyway, still they do. Besides touching of this bump, they also do anything for us, as if I couldn't step into a ladder without the awful thought of me falling from atop such, ending up with more than a few bones broken. Such thought also ran into my mind, but since I broke this same arm once, I am more confident and secure of my actions as well.

...

My Iron Tail

.

My iron tail

My breadcrumb trail

Woke up scentless in a narrow way

Don't go near the water

Pikes and men, it ain't safe

My iron tail

My breadcrumb trail

Let the fear propel you forward

You must do it on a leap

Climb a wall, then go onward

My iron tail

My breadcrumb trail

If you need someone to hit

Throw a rock in the air

Hope that you don't feel guilty

My iron tail

My breadcrumb trail

Drying up as a desert already

Do not let failure stifle you

Who else to fell besides the crumbles of a bread?

My iron tail

My breadcrumb trail

Do not look back in anger over perils

No blood is thicker than the ink

Remember that such days ran away like chocobos over the hills

...

I don't seem to disagree with Zack's presence, neither he does with mine, so I just invited his to the chai party as well. He agreed, as soon as we got in there. Who else wouldn't drink something warm, on this cold? Well, even if given for free, we are not only guests into this house, or mainly those who appreciates of the snacks and drinks given by the owner, though it seems hard to appreciate, even taste of same without feeling such odd flavour, if this scent coming into my nose isn't already something else. Besides greeting us both formally, Sophia also fried some green tomatoes and had cut some slices of annonas that her husband brought some time ago from another place.

She doesn't seem to be that rich, althought that rotten pineapple still remains close of the front window; in front of the main street. Some hazelnuts awaiting to be cracked stood on that same table, for lunch and dinner as well. Althought the table remained filled in by those decorations, dishes empty alike those chairs, forks and knives still inside the cabinet, and the children playing outside as well. Except one, the same whom Sophia couldn't let away from her sight, or those arms, or the warm blanket surrounding his, or her, I don't know its name, not even its mother does. Sixty is just a provisory name, though that thing will survive for time enough to be chosen a name to his, or her. That thing ain't a Qu, but a Burmecian, as much as we do are.

— I thought this place would have a plenty of people – I said to Sophia, before I took an entire, and fresh, guava with a hand. I could feel the peculiar fruit and its seeds into my mouth. How hard they are to be chewed, but to swallow them makes such task a bit easier – had you invited someone else, other than me, Sophia?

— I don't think so, Lenneth – she said. That woman didn't even looked at me, and why would she? As soon as I spoke to her, that infant had a need to be feeded by a breast. It was the only one in there, on that age, being holded by those arms, or an only arm, as I wonder in which way how did she prepared those things at the table. Only a few sets of chai, and the smoke coming from them, were prepared, just in case someone here asked for more. I guess that's enough, and kind as well – but hey, at least, it's nice to see you again, followed of a companion as well. Who's this, besides a Dragoon Knight of your like?

— I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Ezekiel, former Bahamut Knight – Zack said, unable to do a handshake, as he would usually do – I am also a condecorated Sir, though I am not of the kind that keeps shovering to others such title. The King may have granted it to me, but that won't make any difference for what I am, right Lenna? – thne, Zack turned to me. I nodded, and I also recall I was there. Not only because of a raging horde of Ironites rottening that Zack had been granted with the title of a Sir, though many disagreed with such thing. As if these Sirs stood beyond other Dragoon Knights, they would think, even I did, a bit jealous of that sudden nomination, yet, no single mouth uttered a single 'dormouse' to Zack. Or even a punch, just like in the old days.

— Well, that's fine. I guess we should sit for a while. You two must be tired of walking across rooftops, right? – she said, as soon as we took our chairs, the ones that were in front of us, to sit. Wooden chairs, alike the ones of home.

Across rooftops... Only Zack seems to be wandering above those, as much as I had been back on three weeks ago. Remember how tired you were back on those days, Lenneth? Sure. Even walking without any of these ankles had been equally painful on those times. I only seemed to came into that house and drop dead. Not really dead, but almost beaten up by the fatigue, and the muscles, and the need to be beaten on that way, even bleed, if necessary. On those nights, I would only take a bath and sleep, but they never let me fall yet. Mainly Jack, and those cries. Soon as he grew up, they ceased, unlike that look of his face. The fear of blood tends to create the fear of flesh; I keep thinking those things just by looking at Sixty and its mother, and the half of the guava that stood into my hand, a globe as massive as a carbuncle, red and pinly like such, swollen alike sometihng eaten out of a body, I don't know.

I can see some maggots crawling around it, disguised like these white seeds, being eaten by me, as a child. Zack offered me of such fruit, who felt in the ground after a tree was shaken by his arms. It wasn't rotten, or had any scars, but how pretty it was, like its flavour into my mouth, and the unnoticed maggot's syrup, whom since them, didn't harmed me like I thought it would. Same I thought about Zack, before we became friends, but others remained the same about that boy with the cocoa skin. These seeds sure fits as a companion for the chai... Slurp. They thought Zack, alike his family, had more lices than any other Burmecian around these lands. More so that I feared they could crawl into me, my nails, and my mouth. Every night, I felt myself itchy, yet I only went scratching an only part of my body. Not my skin, but my bottom, and only, with this same left arm. Slurp. It turned to be that I have gotten vermins instead of lice, so they had more reason to blame Zack, and his family as well. But who else would blame them anymore, if they hadn't given the cure for such itchy? Garlics had been eaten by me, and so they had no more reason to do it so. Yet, they still called this dormouse here by other names, and other tones, until he became from a new slang to a Dragoon Knight. Slurp.

— Slurp... Sophia, could you answer me if Sixty a boy or a girl? – I said, as we kept sipping our chais. It's cold outside, and the rain kept falling more than usual.

— It's another boy – Sophia replied. She was the only one who didn't went drinking chai, not even a bit of, a single drip. All she had been doing was holding of that little one on her arms. By the tone of that voice, I guess Sophia wanted a girl instead, yet she had been taking care of that son until now. I recall that I saw her in the market, on that first time, not being able to hold that basket, yet she was willing to hold of that same Sixty with an only arm. It was like she gave that baby already, on that same day, and walked out of the bed, only to be able to buy some food remaining there. They may be that little, but sure they aren't that light in weight.

— It seems that you won't you drink that cup, my dear – Zack said, looking at the cup belonging to Sophia, as the one belonging to his was almost empty, same for mine, given how the sound made by our lips any time we drank changed.

— No, I'm sure that I will drink it – she said, with the sight given to Sixty, who was still drinking much of his mother. They are hungry even on such age... – That's enough for today, right? Well, would some of you please hold of my dear Sixty instead of me, Lenneth? – Sophia asked, in front of my right side, standing on her both feet, as if she offered of Sixty to my arms already, even before I had to give an answer.

— I...I am not sure if I can do that – though I already had done that. With Heather, Jack, Karellen... come on, Lenneth. It'll be like holding of a rag doll. Well, do rag dolls cry? 'Karellen' did, before turning into one. But that was a silent cry, a cry of a flesh. Only flesh. The taste of the guava from before, and its seeds, tiny bones, hard to swallow without any bite coming from these jaws. Jack used to bite me, even without a single tooth on that mouth. Tiny teeth, tiny seeds. Am I really sure that I can do that, to hold of Sixty, without letting it fall? I didn't let this cup fall, and even if I did... there is always another choice.

— Well, if you please... – said Zack, soon as he went tooking off that coat of arms, sliver alike the one I used to wear, away from his chest, to make it warm enough for Sixty to lay close of his. Carefully, his mother put that infant on his arms, as if what was being holded on both hands is as fragile like glass, as easy it is to pour sand down between the fingers as well. Sophia... She sort of remind me of my own mother. Don't know why, but maybe it's because of how strong she is; not in that body, but something above. She doesn't seem to be that worried about Sixty, since he's currently being holded by secure arms, of a Dragoon Knight other than me. Wrapped by that beetle scarf, anyone would feel a little more secure, as much as Sixty do with any arm, except mine, who tremble with these worries of my mind.

— (Was I supposed to bring a gift with me as well, Lenna?) – Zack whispered to me. The only thing I recall he holded with the hand was my own hand. He also had a spear on his back, but I don't think that would be a kind of gift for that woman, or any of their children, althought I know so many of them that wish to become a Dragoon Knight someday.

— (I'm sure that what you're doing already, besides your own presence, is a gift enough for both of us) – I said, also whispering alike his. Usually, we would do this when next of a danger, a threat behind or above us, flying with same wings atop our helms. Zack doesn't seem to be that kind to take care of children, as much as I do, even thought Jack needs of my care. If so, then why you left him on his own? Before, I would left Jack to be taken care by Bart, but since he ain't there, the only care I had given so far for Jack was pleasure, and still I deliver of same pleasure to that mouth, whom I feeded, and still I do, with foods other than milk. Oats with milk...

— ...'have you ever held a frog before, Lenna?', and then, she said 'Eeewk!' with an horryfying expression, if sure there is one on that age. Sure, it's fun to tie a string on their feet and keep them swinging around. It's fun, until the string disrupts and the frog ends up falling into someone else. Right, Lenna? – and so, after some time passed, we began to tell some stories, funny ones, that happened a time ago, some that I do not even recall that happened, mainly those who involved me as the 'main protagonist', because of how shameful some had been for me, and now, these stories, no matter in which situtation I had been harmed, are meant to be laughable. This one who Zack told happened a long time ago, when we were children. It was the first time we went swimming, and the first time I also ate a frog's leg as well. I guess it's my turn.

— ...I remember that, when I was training to become a Dragoon Knight, I felt a kind of familiar scent coming from under another knight's helm, also a rookie as I had been. Some crumbles fell from those tiny holes, and I kept wondered what were those. It turned out that it was a bread. A bread... a bread inside the helm. And guess what? The pigeons also felt of same scent, as they came to beck on that poor knight's face. The pigeons are eating your goddamn face! I shouted – and so, we laughed, even Zack there as well, the knight of my tail. Tail, heh... Funny that people laugh of other's suffering. Everyone seems to share of a laugh when telling of these stories. A laugh is a laugh, nonetheless. A Dragoon Knight smiles to anyone, no matter the circumstance. Sophia also told us some stories about her husband, which seem unbeliavable, yet the task of an explorer is to see the unbeliavable. To think that I've carried on of this same gift inside the box so far, without dropping that box in the middle of the way... I guess I should give it to her before I leave.

— Oh thanks, Lenneth – she said, opening the box I've offered to her, revealing that small piece of cloth I've knitted some nights ago. That was meant to be your cloth, I know, but a gift is a gift, no matter to whom you give it. Sophia and me share of same intentions, so that gift given for Sixty still carries on of, besides the intention, same heart as well.

Then, I closed my eyes. Now I am at home, sitting on a wooden table. Sir Zack must have followed me as well to this familiar place, where I live, so does Jack. He is there, sitting on the other side of the table, pretending that I do not exist for his sight, and only. Sophia also gave me a gift too. Besides a recipe for the chai she made there, I also had been granted with a flower bouquet. A pair of yellow and blue hyacinths lies on the table, same for the lunch I've prepared for me, and Jack as well. Jack... If I spoke of his name right now, his ears would listen to me, and his eyes would look at same direction such voice came, but would he reply with only two of his senses to me? I'm sure that he wants to talk something, but that's a rule. Don't talk with your mouth full, it's a rude thing to do; purposefully, Jack had filled in that mouth with rice and beans, in order so to obey me, and also to create a sort of excuse that works, because I was the one who taught it so to his. I also can't talk anything, since I would be disobeying of myself as well. Bart can't talk a single word as well, not because he is that quiet, but because chairs do not share of lips. I hope that someday we both see you utter a word, as much as we will taught you to do the same, as much as Jack had been taught to say so.

We'll know where when we get there.

...