Solo [Winter Blaze Costume] Cold feet

[Wikus]

9th - Winter - 515



“… and there is going to be costumes, singing, lots of drinks. All of that at the cost of one dish you’ve got to present and which would enter a contest too! And like, me and my neighbor, which is a good friend of mine, are going to present ourselves in like a combination type costume, she being the ice and I being the fire, and the costume like combines when we hug, so it’s really going to be something. My college from my job, the job I told you about where I clean this cute Akalak’s home, so she’s also a good friend of mine because we often sneak our way into his bedroom and browse through his underwear…”

Please shut up. Please stop talking. Those two phrases are the only ones Wikus wanted to say to the female he had regretted speaking to perhaps bells ago, the measure of time having faded and instead filled with useless information thanks to this… being that only talked and talked without ever stopping. He cannot even recall how it all started, in all honesty. He remembered the night he got into some trouble late in the night and eluded some good night’s sleep. Needing some water in the morning, he entered the Blue Bull and spilled some water on his beard, to which the female gave him a small napkin to dry his beard. And then, like the good citizen he was, he offered a simple ‘Thank you’ before said immutable being began shooting a one sided dialogue that remained until now. He hadn’t said a single word afterwards, for an undisclosed number of bells as he truly believed he’d been sitting in this stool acting as he listened. She spoke in Common, of course, a language he didn’t quite know and had partially forgotten while traveling the large Sea of Grass, and that now he wished to forget completely once again. The more he understood about this greasy haired female the less he liked her, thankfully she providing him with all the information he needed to categorize her as the annoying rat she was. So far, and only counting what he understood, he’s heard her love story, a detailed job description, how she liked her big boss, the romance between her and said boss, her best friend’s relationship with that boss, the decay of the relationship… The list went on and on to such extents he couldn’t quite recall them all without losing the act of still listening.

“… and we’ll dance all night! Also, we’re planning this delicious dish to bring to the party, which is like this soft goat milk cream with a collection of fruits like bananas, which are very expensive since we can’t grow them in Riverfall…”

He couldn’t take the torture anymore. He had to do something before this witch drained his life out of his ears. He didn’t want to be rude, not at all, but he simply felt his body withering as he listened to the infinite and simply empty rambling. She couldn’t even pronounce correctly, not that he was an expert, but because she relied on speed instead of quality. He had to get out of here. He remained in his stood for a few chimes, gathering mental strength, preparing himself for an abrupt take off whenever he felt strong enough. The female and her infinite rambling halted for a few ticks as she drank whatever beverage she had ordered, a perfect chance to escape yet wasted by the dubious man, a hailstorm of even more words raining on his ears with the same furious intensity as before. It was scary to even imagine meeting any of the people mentioned, afraid of how scarred those beings could be, their minds melted inside their heads into soup… And he was going to be next. No longer wishing to dwell on the idea of his death, Wikus would finally gain the courage needed to escape.


Wikus finally slammed an open palm against the counter, bringing his eyes up from his tankard and instead faced directly the female, displaying a frown that will hopefully be sufficient to convince her of his hostility. It did quiet her, her expression full of confusion and perhaps a hint of fear, moment in which Wikus would stand up and with his boosted confidence, lean slightly forward towards the female as he kept as cold an expression as he could. The female was definitely scared – he could see how her eyes staring into his own, jumping inconclusively left and right, unknowing in which to settle. He couldn’t let her speak any longer, so instead of holding the stance any longer than the awkward pause used to cause some vacillation in her, he turned on his heels and left the same way he came bells ago.


Freedom never tasted so sweet. The bells didn’t seem to have run by while he stood in the purging stasis of the half empty tavern, possible only chimes being wasted with that living nightmare. His pace was quick, joyful but urgent, as he inhaled the fresh air for the first time in forever, away from the fetid breath of that yapping woman. He didn’t want to hear about her whole, insignificant life. He didn’t want to know whom she petched and how many times, nor what goof costume she’d wear at the party… Wikus halted his steps, despite the cold felt below. The party that was to take place tomorrow. Apparently, the whole city would be present, or at least those worth a silver. Free drinks and food… at the price of a single dish brought? For a man as cheap as him, it was similar to the sight of hot springs in a frozen desert. Costumes, dances, conversations… He needed none of those things. If he can feed himself for free, he can make it another day without wasting coins in some meal.

But even his own thoughts were interrupted by a voice that usually doesn’t show up – the voice of regret. Why make it another day if that very same day would be the same as all the rest? Was it too hard to try and make some acquaintances, just for once? Didn’t he want to laugh at least once while he was in this city, before he moved on? Could a few coins serve to buy happiness, at least temporarily?

With a sigh, he peered up at the empty clear skies. He did have some coins on his right now… What could he possibly imagine as a costume? His skin itched, or did the tattoos. It was unclear to him, but they demanded constant attention. Scratching them eagerly as if invaded by fleas, he would begin walking in search of inspiration.

1096 / 50000

[Wikus]

Having coin was one thing, but having ideas was completely different. Wikus wasn’t a genius, and the most creativity he displayed was regarding his unusual and bizarre bathing methods. Most involved ash, yet sometimes mud and sand were also useful to him. Fountains and ponds were greatly appreciated, despite his dislike of water. He walked around the city, or at least part of it, trying to think of something – anything – yet his creative genius was nowhere to be found. Show displays offered no clues, as most of the time the only thing shown was clothing or dead rabbits hanging about as they waited for somebody’s attention. The frustration was obvious within Wikus, quite annoyed at his incompetence. The fear of once again being an outcast and not being appreciated by the community was great within him, or at least for now. Now having quite figured how he would roam amongst civilization, his last experience had traumatized him quite badly. Nevertheless, he didn’t give up easy.

In search of some inspiration, he ended up in one of the many parks of the city. The Knirin Gardens had a lake that Wikus found very peaceful, and his feet often headed towards it as they enjoyed the calm. Sitting near the water often cleared his mind, and sometimes if his concentration was enough even the sounds of the gigantic waterfall of Riverfall could me muted. The voices and presence of someone other than him was also forgotten, and many times he felt as if lost in the wilderness he belonged to. Winter was upon them, and the cold was present, yet Wikus could still handle it despite his light clothing. After some walking, he finally found refuge by sitting on a lonely patch of grass overlooking at the lake. Sitting and crossing his legs as he kept his back straight, Wikus would give his best attempt in search of a meditation that might enlighten his obscured imagination. Closing his eyes, he would begin breathing slowly and deeply.

Chimes and chimes passed, Wikus trying to clear his mind. He managed to do it with time by simply listening to the sounds of the winds and the few voices that still reached his ears. Eventually they faded too, as he stopped paying attention and instead submersed himself into the deep calm that made him feel as if he was hovering over something, somewhere. It was very placid, but also very fragile – whenever he attempted to stir his thoughts into a certain direction, he would find his meditation somewhat faltering and threatening to shatter. What was even more annoying was the fact that something within his skin demanded scratching. It wasn’t a concrete part of his body, nor of his skin, but every once in a while he felt something ‘shift’ in his skin. Many times he had to open his eyes, and he had glanced down at his flesh. Most of the times he found nothing, yet sometimes he could swear he saw his tattoos moving while he wasn’t looking. They were always on the same spot, however, so his beliefs were somewhat faltering under such evident proof. His mediation, under constant raid by all these distractions, was evidently a failure.

Yawning, Wikus would stand up with a grunt. Stretching his arms, he would inspect the populace’s doing in the calm location. Many were couples, kissing and cuddling while others ate from picnic baskets. Some had book in their hands, which was definitely a waste. The important quality was that nobody was paying any sort of attention to him, which he found to be something really positive as now he had the freedom to do whatever he liked. The brainstorming would be done later on, he promised himself. He needed exercise, something to wake him up and enlighten his mind, something that tired him out and made him feel useful. He began by warming up by doing jumping jacks – jumping and extending his legs to the sides as his arms rose up to the sides before he fell still once again. He would repeat the motion, again and again until the sweat threatened to being pouring from his skin, moment in which he’d stop. With a very rough calculous, he determined his warm up had taken approximately two or three chimes. The fact that he was breathless disagreed, as it hinted to entire bells of intense workout. His endurance was clearly suffering and lacking.

Something else also lacked and suffered – his flexibility and acrobatic ability. While he had never been a skilled acrobat in his past, he often relied on dodging as his main fighting style revolved around wrestling. As the park lacked the necessary equipment and only had trees, Wikus moved to the nearest one in attempts of finding something to do with it. At first, he only limited himself on stretching his torso by standing before the tree, bending forward as he kept a straight back. His arms were completely extended, the palms resting on the cold bark as his lower back kept pressing him down. The stretch was highly effective to feel the tension accumulated in trapezius, laterals, deltoids and chest, and it kept relaxing it the more he did it. It was very uncomfortable, yet still necessary. Doing intermittent pushes beyond his stretch range offered an even bigger discomfort, yet nonetheless provided an extra degree of relaxation for those muscles.

Once he felt ready to do something else, Wikus pondered for a minute. There was something he had seen a couple of times yet had been never able to do. He felt curious about it and he often wished he could do it himself. Trying to calculate the distance properly, Wikus would bend forward and press his palms against the grass as he tried to bring his feet up into the air. He wanted to do a handstand against the tree, yet his lack of impulse drove his feet back into the ground a couple of times. He was somewhat fearful of falling and shattering his neck, yet still he was more stubborn in learning if he had the gift for such discipline. Again and again he repeated it, until just once he managed to give himself enough propulsion to send his feet up into the air and do a handstand against the tree. He couldn’t help but smile at his accomplishment, despite the blood traveling quickly down at his head and causing great discomfort. This could be a good posture for a torture, he thought.

His balance was minimal and poorly executed, his physique being poor yet extremely strong, and his feet often threatened to fall either forth or backwards. The tree was there to support him, something he appreciated as it allowed him to maintain the posture for longer. Gently pushing himself off the bark, he would attempt to remain in his handstand as much as possible, failing greatly. Despite the demand on his shoulders, Wikus’ condition granted him great strength he now clearly felt – he felt challenged to do a push-up from this position. It was going to be a great risk, but he went for it anyway. Slowly letting his arms bend, the more he did the more his balance struggled. He knew he had the strength, but he also knew his balance was pretty much garbage. Mind over matter, he would bend his arms more – his balance failing and sending him onto the ground in a very ugly fashion. He wasn’t hurt, but he was quite ashamed. Standing up, and looking around for any possible witnesses, he quickly walked away. Now, he would ponder about his costume.

1271 / 50000