Inked Wings

/ Kinkade’s POV /

Either wake it or kill -

The ghost pressuring my spine.

It’s far from a divine feeling -

The Quiet or The Cry.

A stanza I invented to pass the time.

Every two cycles, attendance of Riddleman’s Arms is obligatory in the Mother Chamber. Here I sit, inside the famous room, where I am suffocating in - Cardamon stands opposite of I, him not sparing me one glance. Instead, his chest is high and his smile is proud due to his presence.

The Riddleman rests behind us. On his throne built upon a cluster. With his wry smile likely nailed on him at all times; with his tangled hair which hides his terribly uncomfortable leer, targeted at me. I cannot stand the man and he knows it very well. I am chained to his clause, nonetheless.

Rumbles…his hum thunders. I can visualize the smile twist into a crooked smirk. He dreamily sighs: “I’m too old to start again.”

My and Cardamon’s heads sync as they tilt towards Riddleman, intrigued by his topic. Of course, an intrigue born from vastly different portrayals. He’s alluring Cardamon in, whereas for my case…distaste provides the poison in my heart.

“The Little Ones are getting bolder by cycle, how may I manage? When you two, dear friends, have both fallen in rut of recent news….at the play of such simple, misguided minds - whom may I entrust?” He whines.

Cardamon jolts, who turning around suddenly, then bows to apologize at once. I stand my ground - quiet. Cardamon once again pleads for chances and when Riddleman accepts to ‘forgive’ him, dear Cardamon is all entranced. Nails graze my knees, leaving my shoulders fallen into an unintentional slump.

“I can count on the two of you to resolve those pressing issues one by one, can’t I?”

“You certainly can, sir. I promise it’ll be done.”

“Kinkade?” He slowly picks at my silence.

I can sense the burning annoyance building inside Cardamon while they fret for my response. I inhale, then abandon my resolve: “Sir, your worry is unnecessary,” I say. “Overcoming animals at the peak of their distress won’t be much of an effort, will it?”

He brightens. “You know what I like to hear. Very well, go on, resolve your mistakes.” With the bare clap of his hands, both of us mobilize in an instant and take our leave.

“The little scum you mentioned. Were they tracked?′ I question Cardamon with a smile.

He’s livid but won’t show - not much in recent years. ′Brats. They were spotted recently. Once I find them, I’ll throw them in the morgue.′ He adjusts his trousers.

“They are only children, are they not? Cut them some slack, as our late Admiral Crowborough often expressed it.”

“I’m not listening to your lousy excuse. They destroyed a ship and killed most of the men I was assigned. I’ll be merciful only if I’m in the mood to act like it.” He clears his throat when he adjusts his collar. “Would it poison you to mind your own? You also have a young one to find, don’t you? Don’t let your nature get in the way. Agree?”

My balance shifts from one leg to another: “The same applies to you.”

After clicking his tongue, Cardamon nods.

We continue our separate ways.

4:09

I have been summoned to the Control Chamber. Or whatsoever this room is called. I do not want to think about it right now. I am angry. There are very many files to look over. My language is lacking. That happens sometimes whenever I’m mad. Ah, anger. Appears like little Devils sprouting inside the nerves accompanying the veins of my brain.

Mrs. Carina is waiting for me, her hands clamped together. She’s holding a folder, a physical folder. Oh dear. This is not good.

Cheeks drained from all the fake smiling, she eventually speaks up: “Commander! There you are. We have been waiting for your arrival. Thrilling, indeed.”

“Yes, yes, it’s a pleasure to see you too, Carina.” I arrive where she stands.

“Is that a new dress?” My voice reels into a flirtatious tone. Unintentional. “It suits you.”

“I like the coif letters.” She soullessly mentions then turns to the door. “Shall we?”

Her calloused hand motions for me to go first. Hesitant, I take the steps to utter disposition. Three individuals await. These three don’t originally belong to my division but they have been assigned to me by the Riddleman himself. I think he noticed the blind trust of my own, lower in status, peers. Otherwise, I can’t begin to describe the jinx which is this particular trio.

It may sound the utmost rude - these two sisters and this man fit such analogy nonetheless. They’re similar to Riddleman. That similarity, especially from the sister’s side, is rather frightening.

“Did we upset you, sir? What is on your mind?” One of the twins addresses me. She hides behind her sister, who is the leader. In reality, she’s not concerned about my state of mind but wary of my stance. I know him. They are like him. It is an eased connection.

Humming a quick chuckle, my palm slaps my thigh. “Hah, what makes you say that, soldier? I am fine, there is nothing to worry about. Thank you regardless.” I clear my throat, hands on my hips.

The leader nods. I nod in return.

“We’re aware of the complications our indifference has brought. We should’ve been more wary of the Tackler’s ‘sly’ attitude but we were not. Now, confidential information is in the hands of a - pardon my word choice, sir - a sack of hormones.” She says.

My snort accentuates my wrinkles. They write riddles on my figure. I like to think of this analogy as a plus to trespassing into an older state and age. “I have read the file, I’m aware of the mishap.” Then, I continue:

“Don’t worry. We wait. Right now, it’s best to spread word to other subdivisions, including bounty hunters. When they see the kid, either they announce us, or they bring them to us. Only we are allowed to extract them, or inflict any punishment. Therefore, the help we’ll resort to has no right to eliminate our target. Understand?” I lock my hands behind my waist, raising my chin a centimeter higher.

They halt, shifting positions into something more formal and appropriate to my new command. “Yes, sir! Noted, sir!”

“Anything else to report that potentially missed the files?” I add.

They stand still, stares confident.

“Did any of you soldiers notice anything out of the norm? Anything worth mentioning?”

The leader shakes her head, her pigtails following along, just as the waves of the deadly sea cradle its corpses.

I swallow inside a dry throat, impatient. “Carina, lend me that file.” My eyes smile but my mouth nails itself in place.

She gives me a look, surprised. “Yes, commander?” Her shoulders slump.

“I will have this.” I wait.

She slowly hands me the documents.

“Since there’s no other news for me, I will revise this. Nothing else to do for good old me.” My attitude brightens in contrast to my tone. My tone indicates irritating obligation. “We are dismissed.” I quickly take leave.

They are keeping something to themselves. How blatantly obvious they let it show ~

Hmm. Surely - Someone piqued something of importance.

5:45

The far-south of Goliath is a burdened walk.

The area is the first built segment of Goliath - the legs, you could describe it, for its purpose is despicable for me to name directly. Simultaneously, this tortuous path leads to the Archive Chamber, which is a room the size of a small library, with the key to billions of records forgotten by most of MEA’s youth. It wasn’t an interest back in the days, either, yet I know the one boy who used to bring me alongside him, to go and read them all. Who used to hold my hands tightly, so I wouldn’t leave him. Instead, I would lovingly listen to Cardamon’s tangents for hours.

I knock on the door, the files I had swept off Carina’s hands are in my other hand.

A whole map is filling the room, the screens plenty. There’s no time for caramel thoughts and perfume feelings. Cardamon’s concentrated disposition shifts in seconds at my mere presence. In a sense, the ability to affect him, if any at all, brings me joy. His sour sight latches onto me, tickling my heart.

Hands fall like feathers, Cardamon is letting go of the screens surrounding him. ‘’Do I need to repeat myself?’ Arms tremble, Cardamon reaches and pulls away from the screens. ‘I am preoccupied with my own business, general, as you are yourself.’

New pages slide in and out of his view. He stops the automatic presentation, on a video.

A hand rests over where one’s heart rests. ‘I am innocent.’ I protest, putting on an endearing smile. ‘Carina, dear her, has forgotten to hand you these files.’

I shorten the distance.

Sarcasm escapes him. ‘Forgotten she has, surely.’ Cardamon tugs the folder off my hands.

‘Yes. Yes, well, just like this system, she is forced into a messy riddle.’

Closer now, I grasp glimpse of the mutants he is dealing with. This slideshow is presenting them well, frail, dirty and furious. They are but young souls, this small, this ruined.

‘Children on the verge of rain, soon to be robbed of their freedom, already having lost their shame.’ I turn to Cardamon, sympathetic look fixed on him. ‘Children, Cardamon.’

My dear clears his throat, tension built in his riddles. ‘They are beasts. What I’ve told you before still stands. This is my responsibility, not yours, general. Keep your pity quiet.’

‘These responsibilities are no easy task to tackle.’ I step one inch closer. ‘Thousands of files that occupy our time, cruel man-force at best, no schedule set with no freedom to replace the strands. Above all, we are jesters to the man with plenty of expectations of us.’

Our heads lightly shake in unison, with vast and different reasons behind each. I continue: ‘This pressure is significant for our old minds and young fears. We don’t have to suffer through it. Two hands are a pair for a reason. An ideal match.’

Cardamon’s eyes slide off in the distance, avoiding mine. ‘I am not in the mood for your games, Kin’.’ He points to the doors. ‘Leave.’ The riddles accentuated under his eyes, the pitfalls in his skin, the paleness of the bony corners on his body, the silk hairs frozen as if recently downed in sizzling sugar.

‘I apologize but it is hard, for I hate to see my More overworked by a childish dictator.’

It works but it does not. Cardamon locks gazes, clear indignation brought to his appearance, a bit too subtle for the outrage I know I have caused him. Oh, how much he must loath it.

‘That is rich, coming from a weakly loyal, fearsome, indecisive fool.’

I cannot say his comment appalls me, but the hurt I thought I noticed hidden by his voice... I have hurt Cardamon greatly in the past, which was something completely out of my control, as people’s beliefs drive them more than their moral compass ever does. It is in the past, now. I want to apologize again. Still, it would be far from fair.

Defeated, I nod.

6:36

Stop. Oh, Deities. Everyone has a place to rest. I cannot when this dimly lit room is spinning. The entirety of my belongings are scattered in this temporary home.

“Are you bothered when you have no company?” Oh, ‘More’. Stop.

That is good or bad. The snippets. I don’t know anything about them. I don’t have any confidence in anything that I’m doing.

One, to skip a few. All right. “What’s going on?”

No.

I was in the woods and then I was not, my words won’t be doing anything grand there. I can’t escape. Why does every person slip my grasp?

“It’s not important.” But it is. It is grand.

All M.E.A buildings are familiar. It’s like I have been here before. In this small room.

“What do you mean?”

Certain sentences from older times...Echoes of the past creep into my impaired earshot.

“Use Admiral Crowborough’s assessment link, you need to go and pull the weight.”

Yes. Flashes come and go. The strangest thoughts, the most dire states, come when you’re isolated with your own.

“Do you regret your decisions? Do you know why you are this way?”

I have no idea what this is.

“What’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt? Do you believe in life? After death?”

What’s the source of all these lines I murmur under my breath? I wonder. It’s distant. The answer - When we were young bodies and when we were only children for brains, Cardamon enjoyed to question everything. He would always seek answers, except the ones he knew would wreck him. The lies he needs he does not mend or second guess.

“Have you ever lost someone?” Yes. I have lost you two, my dearest.

I wish Cardamon would ask me anything. I hope to see her. I wish to talk to him like we used to. I miss them both. I hope she saw the clue. Deities, I hope her curled hair is not damped.

I am spiraling it seems. I sit on the bed. It is dark in this room. The smell is warm, fractured and the air is tight. I have no reason to open the window. There’s no true fresh air to welcome inside my lungs. Not inside here.

My head rotates a smidge.

Her picture sits close, there on the counter. Eva wore various outfits, cosplaying many fictional characters she loved. They encouraged her to be brave. Perhaps, too brave. I’m afraid she inherited her extremes from me. It is one or the other. No in-between.

There’s always a choice to make.

There follows consequence.

And in the end, we are still hypocrites.