Haylock
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17 - Embroidery
🕑 Added 2023-09-27 05:28:03 +0000 UTCCorporal Claws, master of the log and guardian of the pond, luxuriated on her favored perch.
A cool breeze wound its way through the forest, but given her superior body, she barely noticed it. She rolled onto her back, letting a ray of sun land on her belly fluff. With a chirp of sheer contentment, she wiggled her body, settling further into the groove of her perch.
With her ascension, knowledge had poured into her body in a steady stream, making her, by her own approximation, the smartest of Fischer’s students. Because of her vast intellect, she knew that, as a mammal, she had subterranean fat.
Claws raised an eyebrow—that wasn’t right.
Sub-cute-angus fat? Sub… sub-cretaceous? Her face crinkled in annoyance—they weren’t right either.
Whatever—she was aware of her fat. She rubbed her belly for emphasis, grinning as she ran both paws through her illustrious fur and massaged the layers of fatty insulation beneath. She thought of the cultists in town claiming that crabs were the superior form, then let out a chittering chuckle—the poor fools.
She slipped back into a state of half slumber, smiling at the world’s sensations as they blanketed her. Some time later, she heard a twig break. She raised her head to see a man departing, so chirped to get his attention.
Leroy froze on the spot and spun, giving her a guilty look.
“Sorry—I saw you sleeping and didn’t want to wake you...”
She waved a dismissive paw and rolled over before stretching, arching her back and shaking with effort. When the stretch was well and truly complete, she settled back on her hindquarters and cocked her head at Leroy.
Thankfully, he understood her unspoken question—such things were to be expected of her minions.
“Fischer told me that there was a spirit in the light-blue tree...” Leroy shook his head. “Man, saying that out loud makes me sound insane.”
Claws’ body became wreathed in lightning and she crossed her arms, staring down at the deliverer of terrible news.
Leroy took a step back.
“Uh... Claws? Everything okay?”
Corporal Claws, queen of the forest and matriarch of the pond, shook with indignation. She had wanted to raise the tree without anyone knowing, then surprise her master. She imagined the scritches her master would have given her, but upon realizing the plan was now ruined, her face twisted into a scowl.
As quick as her frustration had come, it drained away, as did the lightning surrounding her. It wasn’t Leroy’s fault; her master was simply too intelligent, too prepared and calculating to be surprised in such a way. She leaped from her perch atop the log, landing silently before Leroy. She chirped once, nodded for Leroy to follow, then set off for the clearing.
They traveled in silence. Each time Claws glanced back at Leroy, he was looking up, a smile on his face as he appreciated the beauty of the forest. She approved of his wonder; her forest was magnificent indeed. Pride suffused her, and she held her head a little higher as she led him on. When they arrived at the clearing, her pride scattered like a school of fish upon seeing her deadly form beneath the waves.
“What the frack...” Leroy said from behind her, echoing her thoughts.
The clearing was no longer a clearing.
Where the forest floor surrounding the light-blue tree had previously been clear, four saplings now stood. She slunk toward one, overly cautious of the unexpected growth. When she reached it, she stood on her hind legs, and even stretching to her full height, the sapling was taller. All of its leaves were glossy, a light green that indicated fresh growth. She wrapped a padded paw around the trunk and pushed softly; it held firm, not moving even a little.
There was a blur of green and something swung down toward her. She chirped in alarm and tried to scurry away, but off balance as she was, she never stood a chance—the twig smacked her right between the eyes. Corporal Claws rolled backward with the hit. As she got to her feet, she rubbed her stinging forehead, frowning at the impudent tree.
The sapling’s leaves shook with mirth, as did those of the light-blue tree.
Leroy stumbled further into the clearing, his gaze distant and eyes wide.
“There... there really is a tree spirit?” His head darted between the two shaking canopies. “No—there are two?”
Claws shook her head with a chirp. She recognized that sadistic humor—it was just like the time the spirit tripped her with a root. The same cheeky being had somehow taken over control of the lemon sapling that whacked her, if not all of them.
“No?” Leroy asked. “What do you mean?”
She pointed at all the trees, then brought her paws together, clasping them.
“You’re saying it’s the one spirit?”
Claws nodded. So did the sapling—an entirely unnerving action for a tree to make.
Leroy stared at the small lemon tree, his face etched with incredulity.
“Y-you can hear us...?”
Again, the sapling nodded.
Seeing Leroy’s awe, the whispers of a plan started forming in Claws’ magnificent mind. Perhaps her plan to surprise her master wasn’t ruined after all...
She rubbed her chin with her elongated digits, just as she’d seen Fischer do when lost in thought.
Corporal Claws grinned, exposing her needle-sharp teeth as the plan further unfurled.
***
I bent my knees, braced my core, and lifted. Sand cascaded from the boulder as it left the ocean floor. Wasting no time, I strode off toward the headland.
Despite the frigid night just gone, the ocean was a pleasant temperature, especially compared to the freezing wind blowing above. Sergeant Snips and Rocky scuttled past me as they headed for another boulder. Snips blew happy little bubbles and waved a claw at me. Rocky gave me a rude gesture, which caused me to snort. Snips spun to bonk him on the head, and I thoroughly enjoyed the reproachful hisses and clicks coming from her as I strode on.
One step at a time, my powered legs launched me high above the sand, and the boulder’s weight brought me back down. The temporary weightlessness made me think of an astronaut traversing the moon, and a smile came to my face unbidden.
Before I knew it, I’d arrived at the pile of boulders. Rather than place a second layer on the already constructed portion, we had started extending the base layer out to sea. It was now fifteen meters or so from the shore, and as I approached, movement caught my eye. I placed the boulder and swam over to where I thought I’d seen something. My head was tilted to the side, and as I locked eyes with a creature, a smile slowly spread over my face.
A common eel peeked out between a gap, going still in its hidey-hole as it watched me. I looked further toward shore and spotted baitfish flitting around the base layer of rocks, using them for protection. Fish were already using the new habitat despite it being nowhere near finished.
I stood there for a long moment, soaking in my surroundings. Juvenile shore fish darted from gaps in the wall before dashing back inside. The common eel slowly slunk away, not wanting anything to do with me. Different schools of unknown baitfish continued flitting around continually.
A sense of deep calm washed over me and I lost track of time.
The form of Pistachio glided through my peripheral vision and dropped his boulder. He came up beside me and joined my moment of contemplation. I glanced to the side, seeing an endless stream of curious bubbles coming from his mouth. The lobster was quiet compared to my other animal pals, but I knew that behind his mask of stoicism, a vast intellect dwelled. Of all the ascendant creatures, he likely best understood the breadth of what this structure represented for the local marine life.
The need to take a breath climbed into my awareness, so I kicked off the ocean floor gently, not wanting to spook any surrounding fish.
The midmorning sun greeted me atop the churning ocean, and I closed my eyes as I turned my face toward it. A cool breeze was still present, but the sun’s heat canceled it out. I floated on my back, exposing my body to more of the rays. My ears went below the water, muffling the cries of seagulls circling high above.
It was truly a beautiful day.
***
Gary, the leader of the Cult of the Leviathan’s Tropica branch, gazed out at the ocean—it was beautiful.
He stood atop the stone walkway on the eastern side of Tropica, both forearms leaning against the low wall. Birds circled above, and a strong breeze made white foam form atop waves all the way out to the horizon. He breathed deep of the salt spray, then turned and strode for the cult’s headquarters.
As he swung the new door open, he marveled at the metal bracing on its internal face. Despite it being installed over a fortnight ago, he still found the addition a stark contrast to the thin, weatherbeaten door that Pistachio had annihilated when shooting Sebastian through it.
Firmly closing the door behind him, he gazed out at the room. If not for his being there, he’d never have believed the entire bottom floor had been almost demolished less than a month ago. He looked at the wall that a creature of legend had flown through—as with the room itself, no signs of destruction remained.
Memories of that evening flashed through his mind. His former master, Sebastian, hadn’t made it through. Despite Gary’s continued efforts to turn Sebastian from his murderous path, the man’s hubris had been his downfall. Gary still partially blamed himself for that, but as he recognized that thought bubbling up, he focused instead on the present.
He traipsed toward a newly constructed bench and looked down at the contents. His fresh batch of baby lobsters scuttled about, exploring their home. Now that he was in charge of the cult, Gary had first and final say for the environment the lobsters grew in. Previous batches had been kept in small, overcrowded tanks with no structure to hide or forage in.
Gary took a deep breath, pride swelling as she smiled down at the tank he’d created. It was twice as long as he was tall. A layer of sand covered the bottom, with rocks, shells, and patches of seaweed added that the baby lobsters could use to hide in. The lobsters in the old tanks made by Sebastian were sedentary creatures; they sat still most of the day, only moving when pellets of food were added. He had assumed that to just be what baby lobsters did—he couldn’t have been more wrong.
The twenty-four lobsters within the new tank constantly moved around, searching their environment. Though he couldn’t tell for sure, he thought they seemed happy. He sprinkled half a handful of pellets into the tank and watched with delight as his cute little pets scuttled from their hiding spots.
A loud knock came from the door, jolting him from his reverie. He shook his head as he strode toward it, still feeling somewhat disconnected from the present. When he opened the door, that changed.
“How are ya going, Gary?” Barry asked.
“Hi, er... sir?”
Barry laughed.
“Just Barry is fine, mate.”
“Right. Sorry. What can I do for you?”
“Would you mind following me for a bit? I need help tending the weeds.”
Recognizing the code phrase, Gary nodded and stepped through the doorway to join Barry outside. He closed the door and locked it.
“After you, sir—er, Barry.”
***
Gary followed his church leader through the streets of Tropica, his heart thumping and palms clammy. It was well past the morning bustle of the village, and most of the south side residents were off tending to their fields, so they only saw a few moving about. Barry waved at the bakery owner, Sue, as he passed, and Gary gave her a nod of greeting. The friendly lady waved back, beaming a smile at them.
They eventually came to the woodworking shop, and Barry held the door open for him. As he stepped inside, he was met with a sea of faces: both woodworkers, Brad and Greg; the tailors, Ruby and Steven; Barry’s wife, Helen, and her sister-in-law, Barbara; and Sue, the wife of the infamously grumpy farmer.
All smiled or nodded at him, and he dipped his head in response.
“Now that we’re all here,” Barry said, “would you like to start, Ruby?”
The middle-aged woman’s smile went wide as she bent and picked up a box.
“I’ve finally finished the robes! The stitchwork took longer than expected, but I suppose that’s not really a surprise—we had to source some fine materials.”
“Fine indeed,” Steven, her husband, agreed.
“And that’s not even the best part!” Ruby continued. “The effects! Each transformed, and they give a bonus to luck and cultivation speed, whatever that means. The embroidery is royal blue, with just a hint of gold added in to reflect the—”
Steven cleared his throat.
“You’re rambling, dear.”
She shot him a venomous look, but then sighed to herself.
“I suppose I was.” She started walking around the room and passing out small bundles. “Let me know if they don’t fit. They should, though, if the measurements you gave me were correct.”
As Gary accepted his robe, a great weight was shed from his shoulders.
Despite his ready acceptance of joining the church, each time he was called to a meeting, a sense of anxiety rose from within. He supposed it was a remnant of the scary stories his drunk auntie would tell about churches when he was a wee lad.
He unfolded the bundle, running his hands along the expensive-feeling fabric as he did so. The main robe was as dark as the ocean’s depths—more colorless than the night sky. On the front, right above where his heart would be, a stylized pattern had been embroidered. It was the light blue of the ocean and depicted a fishing rod with a fish hooked on the end. To the top left of the embroidery, a golden sun shone down, beaming its rays toward the fishing rod.
Gary felt his anxiety recede further; the pattern filled him with a sense of deep calm.
His moment of peace lasted less than half a breath; it shattered the moment Barry spoke.
“So, shall we vote on how we’re going to deal with the blacksmiths?”
Comments
Beeees!
Aww, maybe all those little lobster crickets cab ascend and follow papa pistachio around like a little lobster train
