3 Boring yet Precious (1/2)

"The Frozen Candle, The Blanket of Dread, The Red Crown. Such are the names bestowed to the saviour who would warm the epoch drenched in cold anguish- overmorrow..."

-Prophecy of Samar, King of Alditia

©

Clouds from the northern mountains descend the City of Dirge, covering them like a white veil on a mourner's head. The howling white cliffs, the waltz of glaciers by the sea, and the onslaught of cold tides by the harbors are what wakes the dwellers in the Sovenian north. And the innocents who rise with the sun are always graced with an odd pair ever side by side, carving their way to the black beaches to loom a daily eclipse:

One is a seafarer towering over everything, his youthful energy pouring through the silent pier-roads as he kicks through snow to clear a path. Ian'drah Dawnsnow, a name that wetted the lips of maidens and trembled the jaws of buccaneers. Catching fame not solely from his fair face but because of his unmatchable talent at sea from fishing to naval combat.

Even with the reckless way he walks it was clear that he belongs to the waters. Inns and taverns across the country nicknamed him Hyden, from a hunted down ocean-race of Sovenian folklore since he was "the babe who first learned how to swim before learning how to walk".

Ironically, the man following him strides in a hood with a face that has outgrown countless of balaclavas. Always at the periphery on the silent street, unnoticed like a white stone on a snowy field unsuspectedly tripping all that crossed him. Just listen to his melodies and you'll know he's there.

Unlike the sailor's hands that were roughened by nets and scarred by blades, his fingers were calloused by pen-hold and cut by papers. The few spots of chemical burns on his hands and robes as one of the few ways to recognize the secretive lad. The whole nation of Sovenia knows him as well, yet with a bad taste whenever his name leaves their mouth, the last name to be precise.

He is the foster-son of Miriam Blackmercy, making him seen as a criminal's child. But Ian'drah only sees him as Sion, his dearest friend and the best damn alchemist in his eyes- second only to Sion's mum, of course.

The occurrence of them being companions did not help Sion's shrouded figure. It is a mystery of the blood, unexplainable as the paradox of the gods that guides immaculate scholars down to madness- these are enough to depict the heavy doubts of intrigues from the city's residents.

But they don't dare to meddle because whenever the Sailor is reduced to a frown, it infects the whole city like a disease; Yet one visit from the alchemist and he is treated as if unhappiness is but a potion away- The Dirgefolk would never know how.

They always sail the North-East wind by a rowing sail-boat, a few more distance north the white cliff's coast and they'll reach the the famous glacier maze. Some rumours tell that through the maze a path exists to the Golden City from the old tales, but all the boatsmen who tested the rumour never came back.

"I might drowse and drown if you don't stop singing." Ian'drah teased his humming friend, broad shoulders relaxed and not a single sweat had broke from his rigorous rowing.

"Feel free to fall, it would be a good way to go and you'll be the talk of town again."

"Baby Tuna, yer' not bothered if I drown and freeze to death?" Those were impossible to happen but he still pouted his lips.

"Snowberry? Apple-plum?" he listed the nicknames, the folks only know his friend as Sion Blackmercy, but he knows well that the notorious master Alchemist, Miriam, named her son after the breakfast she's having when she found the babe abandoned on the apothecary's doorstep: A dirgean smoked-fish dish called Sovenian Siontuna, mouth-watering if served with local snowberries.

"Call me any of those and I'll drown you myself, by the Gods, I'd appreciate if you at least catch a cold, Yeah?" besides the ugly nicknames, it also irks Sion how his friend only wears trousers to fight the harsh northern climate. "If I have the money, one of the things I'll do is change my name."

"What if it told you that I can give you a thousand Akan coins to change your name tomorrow?" The Sailor dared.

"Even if you wear the Cap of Coin, I know you wouldn't do that."

"You think I'm not charitable?"

"No, I think you're horrible."

"Oh."

"A sadistic savage at that."

"Oh?"

"You reap pleasure from the nicknames you call me, so the suggestion of you giving me money to change names is off the table."

"Ahhh... Look at Snowberry, always at the right."

They volleyed words over a casted net until the fog cleared from the sea and the sun burned yellow like a Dirgean smile, signalling them to come back to shore. So, with one haul of his arm, the Sailor pulled their catch down the floorboards.

Sion hurriedly grabbed a pouch from his satchel to sprinkle orangey powder across the catch, sizzling on fish-flesh until their scampering would cease.

"A black clam king finding its way in your net, huh? this little precious only dwells on the sea floor..." Sion's mind emptied like his stomach when he saw on Ian's hands: a pink-skinned tortoise with pudgy seaweed eyes gazing back on his forest ones.

"Sea god's cock! You caught a rare ingredient Ian!" the Alchemist's crass words ripped the solemn winds.

"This won't be one of your alchemical fantasies you spawn of Diarthe!" The Sailor kept the tortoise away, shifting the weight of the boat along with him.

"I'm not that heartless! Unlike mum, I don't dissect on impulse, just let me feel it's skin once-" Sion tried to approach but the tortoise trembled the more his hand neared.

"Hah! figures, it sensed great danger from your hidden intention! You're the horrible one after all..." Ian hissed in phony disdain, making the other boy gasp a chockful of crisp Dirgean air "You squeezed the poor thing to make it squeal!"

"Oh, no sire! I have the gentlest hands in Dirge, a handful of ladies would tell-"

A bone-trembling rumble travelled through the seafloor, reaching from the far glaciers to make their arm hairs stand. They were foolish enough to wake the maze up north.

"We're fucked..." Just as they feared, their boat was punched by large waves emmited from the great motions afar. Aside from plunderers, another risk of their trip comes whenever the gargantuan blocks of ice would rearrange themselves like a herd of serene beasts that runs from noises.

"Secure the catch and hold on tight!" The sailor shouted as he fought the waves with his heavy mass alone. The series of surges came by with Ian suppressing his laughter through the chaos, much busy watching his friend on all fours hugging the fish-filled net as if its the most precious thing to lose.

"Sea god's cock! Why won't it stop!"

"Won't you just hush yourself mate?! The glaciers are sensitive to noise and all your yelling lights a bonfire to their dance party!" Ian lashed out to tease him more, Sion was struggling too much to notice the laughing man.

"But those loud penguins are still asleep!"

"You're the loud penguin! I told you to cease your songs earlier!"

Ian'drah managed through with no crease, feet planted firm on the floorboards to balance their rocking boat. The smile on his face mocking the sea as free hands fix his hair instead of holding on for dear life. The distant rumbling slowly ceased with the Sailor enjoying the sight of his friend curled up underneath him as the waves decline to silence.

"Sea god's cock!"

"Hush it! I told you to keep quiet!" The Sailor whispered down the curled man.

"Huh? But that wasn't me!" Sion ogled wide-eyed to match Ian's confusion.

"Oh really? Then who in Viridia's realm-"

"Sea god's Cock!"

They looked behind them and saw the recent creature they admired- glee spilling from its eyes while squealing its first words to the open sea.

"Sea god's Cock!" it's voice echoed to both visible and invisible realms.

"What have you done!" Ian snatched the creature to cup its blasphemous mouth with his hand.

"Queen Ingrid help us..."

They sat there with their heavy breaths adding to the fog as they think of how to bandage this predicament.

"Now, tell me boy. Why is this thing such a rare ingredient?"

"I forgot to mention the name, it's a Parrot Tortoise..."

"Alright that's it. I'm going to throw this abomination back to the waters..."

"Don't! that blasphemous thing must not co-exist in the Sea god's domain!"

"Cries the boy who proclaims the Sea goddesses' genitalia... First of all, Fonclere is a woman, Tuna! Not a cock bearing God!"

"Alright, Alright, I'm sorry!"

"Godsdamn it. I haf'ta kill the poor thing, you might want to close your eyes while I try."

"No! just throw it back in the Ocean for fucks sake... no one would know that we made that abomination!" Sion suggested before closing his eyes. Each time something gruesome is about to happen, Ian'drah would always ask him to close his eyes to spare him the sight. A practice taught by Sion's mum that they have not yet outgrown from their childhood.

Plop.

"Is it done yet?"

"Aye, now we just anticipate the Sea goddess' anger."

Ending their fishing in disgrace, the pair went back to shore with the assorted catch. Sion tried his best to hum new melodies to distract the fact that they recently implanted a majestic creature with scandalous vulgarity, somehow it helped.

"You reek of raw fish." Ian'drah commented as he tie their boat on a pointed rock.

"Well, you made me secure the catch earlier."

"Yeah, you better change, don't let that stink stay long on you like that." Says the Sailor, he sat down to throw the younglings they had caught back to shore so they could replenish the sea next season. A common practice of fishermen now deemed as Sovenian law.

And that was when the breeze warmed, The Sailor's hands arrested by a faint fragrance making him breathe deep even with the stink of the net in front of him.

When he looked back, he saw his companion spilling his hooded robes down the black sands, revealing what only he and Miriam had seen, and thankfully, none of the world had ever has.

And in his mind, shall never will.

Ian's breathless groan sounded like a loose-string bass in an orchestra of astonishment as he observed- The Alchemist's hair searing a forge-fire red against the sunrise, saturating its lengthy gloss against the sea. His body have this softness which the farthest eyes could touch, left with the wonder why such skin's luster glows, akin to a healthy pearl awash in moonlight. Must be the perks of knowing how to replicate luxurious soaps? or maybe it's how he is rarely touched by the sun?

But those fragile lips have no excuse to give, it itches The Sailor how he is a stranger to its feeling. Since their youth, he always thought that they are perfectly meant to receive... Of food, of flesh. Now the young fishes are jealous of the attention Ian kept exhausting to those red lips.

"We haven't got all morning." The Alchemist broke his friend's unblinking stare, a new attire with a netted hood hand-made by The Sailor covers his head, and of course, a balaclava for the face too.

"Hmm? Aye, let's move..."

But the Sailor betrayed his own words, pausing ever so still and lost in thought again which earned him an annoyed grunt from the other. Heart skipping three full beats, ears twitching, lips counting. Ian'drah glanced at the far coast where he spotted a boat sailing the northern winds. He took notice of the slender lad rowing it, and... that's all he needed to know.

"What's wrong?"

"T'was nothing... let's go."

They walked the long distance back to the docks with the net slinging over Ian's shoulder. This marks the start when Sion would stay reserved once more, returning to the soft-spoken figure he is publicly known for.

Upon their return, only now that the fishermen were assembling for the morning sails. They work in groups since mornings in the Dirgean Docks are fated to be shady; pockets are picked, cargoes go missing, and smiles are sometimes slipped on necks when no one is looking.

Especially now that the Dirgefolk Dread had been painting the city streets red under the decade-tolerance of authorities. The Alchemist had always been grateful for Ian's company, his protection, and if the Sailor's far sailing elsewhere he'd always lock himself deep within the Apothecary shelves and devices.

"What's troubling you?" The Sailor asked when it was Sion who paused this time.

"I swear I saw something stir from the stacked barrels over there." He eyed the salt kegs from not so far away.

"Must be one of the runts." Ian shrugged off, pertaining to the children from the slums that kept on pestering Sion's kindness.

And he was right, a girl barely around eleven winters of age peeked at them from the barrel gaps. Her doe-eyes widening like plates when she saw the food stashed behind the tall sailor.

She closed her eyes, afterwhich, the gemstone embedded on her forehead glowed a lilac light that floated her through the air. Her black disheveled curls catching wind and snow as she propels her tiny body to them.

"Good morning!" The girl greeted, landing firm on the alchemist's arms.

"You're here alone? where are the others?" He asked while fixing the rough spun dress that barely protects her caramel skin from the chill. Thankfully, the Dirgefolk Dread never touched the children of the slums.

"Don know, prolly scavenging in the market."

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" the Sailor bowed down to meet the small kid's level, though he could already see the answer in her eyes.

"Are you not consulting of my hunger too?" Sion asked, he knows that Ian have a pocketful of coins waiting to be spent for a lofty breakfast.

"Ahem ahem... Are you hungry too, sweetheart?" he sweetened enough to rot any teeth.

"Piss off, of course I'm starving..."