Timeless Twilight, Ch.3

Chapter 3: Time in Chains

Colour is said to define what everything is, to show what is what and who is. To the Jesters, it is a means of maintaining a certain identity of what they are a sort of class to differentiate the differences of anyone by just looking at the colors that they wear. It is a strict practice to coincide the many styles of the Jesters, one that even the Emperor is encouraged to follow himself. The lowly street lurkers like Sylas wear only dark red colors like burgundy and various shades of brown to reveal that people like him are poor and homeless with cobblestone grounds as their beds. But the bright red colors however symbolizes skilled fighters, proficient in the ways of close combat with the mere use of their own fists, and those who wear gold with their red garbs show their status as soldiers to the Emperor himself! The purple clad ones are proficient in creating raw power like magic, or sometimes reshape it into various forms, like transforming water into purple itself, turning a flowing meadow into a blazing sea of fire; it must be no wonder why these folk are so feared, and yet still so few in number. The bright blue wearers trot around as performers in the arts like acrobatics and singing, the green holding ancient wisdom and stories by the hundreds as they entertain the masses with words, and the grey and silver wearers the symbol of the working class, it was always important to see those who had made their contributions to the city world. But it wouldn’t be an elegant world without knowing the upper class tastes in style. Orange, yellow, and pink show those of high status, power, and great control. By far, their sense of dress proves to be the most erratic as expected with the orange wearers being those with their own businesses, the yellow being the wealthiest of them all, and the pink being those with distant connections to royal dynasties of the past.

But there were other colours of class that were not a pleasant thing to look at if one would come across one. The black wearers, the somber and quiet ones that linger in the ruins of the cities from the first Purge and also the ones that companioned the Visitors and the Unwelcomed the most; they appear as those who had fallen from grace, but unlike the beggars in brown rags who strive to live on coin or food, the black robed ones look for a future without the light. And they believe the answer lies in the wisdom of the Visitors and the Unwelcomed. But none makes anyone more frightened than those who dress in the metallic colours. These folk are said to be the nightmares of the Visitors themselves, acting as a loose association of mischievous brats, the upper class folk, and even psychotic killers too. They are the hammer of the intruders, and beware of those who bear a white colour, be it a sash, a ring, or even hair, for they directly serve the Emperor himself. The Emperor, the only one in the world to appear completely white in everything, was like something holy to see. Nothing else was a different color; the skin, the clothes, the hair, the lips, even the fingernails were covered in pure sparkling white. The Emperor could not even open his own eyes for it disgraces his own regal appearance as part of a line of royalty. The Emperor could not even speak at all, most of the time he relayed his speech into letters on paper in a private room where he would spend most of his days in seclusion. They say if he dares to speak, he turns away from all eyes where his mouth is not seen and would mumble and murmur his speech.

Colour defines status, backgrounds, and identities among all. Amidst the gloom of the cities, the Visitors see the denizens as the most astounding of sights they have yet conceived. Which would bring forth puzzling questions as to why a magician came to a beggar’s home at such an odd time when people should be sleeping? When the dawn came at last, the Dalix that hid in the trees the other night walked out into the open field surrounding the marble spire at the first light that peered through the thick clouds. It was a rare sight to see only a smidge of light present; the Dalix could not help herself but look towards the sky above to the east to look at the light that vaulted across the cloudy sky over the red trees on the horizon.

“Where has that been all this time?” The Dalix asked herself as she kept on walking. “Cause of a lot of problems…just ridiculous.”

Walking across of wasteland of burned roses that left a ring of destruction around the spire, the Dalix climbed up the little hill and up the door to find that it was open with a small crack of space. “Irresponsible.” The Dalix commented shaking her head.

She proceeded forward inside, kicking up the dust on the unclean stone floor and up to the steps and looked up to find the unnaturally long climb up to the only room in the tower. “Did the architect think this was necessary?” The Dalix questioned the travel upwards, pointing with an open hand towards the first steps. “Oscar, what do you think?” She looked to the corner of her eye.

The Dalix waited for a moment, moving her head about like she was trying to find something. Or maybe, her imaginary friend was not responding to her by the looks of her frantic movements. However, as she looked up, she sighed with relief as she saw a rather frightful creeper hanging above her. It was Oscar himself alright, an eight-legged white fuzzy spider sliding down on a golden silk string it made from one of the steps a ways up all the way down to the Dalix’s shoulder with fine grace. “You sure did scare me when you didn’t say anything.” She said, rubbing Oscar’s head softly with a finger.

Oscar hisses at the Dalix’s ear. “Talkin’ is tirin’!” It said speaking with the raspy voice of a sick young man as it pokes the Dalix’s cheek with a leg. “Feels like I hadn’t breathed in days when I woke up while upside down! You know how that feels, Maefle?”

“It’s Mae-ly you dolt.” The Dalix retorted to the spider, flicking its leg away from her face. “I’ve ignored this long enough, but now you should be able to get it through your tiny skull that it is ‘Maely’, not Maefle. Am I understood, Oscar?”

The blue-eyed spider groans coarsely. “For the last time, it’s not Oscar! You should get it through your tiny skull! By the gloom in the clouds, I always enjoyed our long-distance talking the most than hearing your screeching voice in my ears!”

Maely sighs as she began to climb the stairs up to the unsuspecting star gazer above. It was another typical argument between a sapient being and a ghost of nature; Oscar was lucky that Maely was the merciful type when it comes to bugs.

“I beg to differ,” she talked back to Oscar, “if Oscar is not your name, then what was your other name, hm?”

Oscar stuttered, after taking a breather from his overreaction. Only incomplete words came out as Oscar tried to put together an explanation that only gullible children would believe.

“We-well--“he sputtered.

“Say no more my little sailor.” Maely said. “We’re not having this discussion again; I’ll be wasting my breath again if I yelp in your non-existent ears. You know, there’s saying that young girls will take you where you don’t want to go. But you…you don’t have a choice at all, so remember that the next time you talk all cranky in my ear.”

Oscar groans a grumble as he curled up his legs close to his body. “Let’s just hurry up, my brain is aching already.”

“All in due time…” Maely said as she reached in her inner robe.

Oscar peered down Maely’s person to see what she was taking out of her inner pockets. It wasn’t bright in the tower at all, and it made Oscar realize that he could hardly see the steps that Maely was climbing. But it was nothing to worry, since she hadn’t tripped yet. Then he heard a clicking sound, like something opened, followed by a ticking sound soon after. “Say,” he asked Maely as the climb continued, “what’s that sound?”

Maely shrugged. “Here, take a look.”

With a snap of her fingers in her own true fashion, a purple spark came out from the friction of her thumb and became a floating flame made from the center of where the sound exploded from. Truly a magician if she could create fire; her power is deterrence, her mind was sharp, and her eyes as focused like a vulture, a lady of her class were the most curious and odd in the world. As the floating flame followed close from above, Oscar saw a chain coming from out Maely’s robe leading to an open case clock that fitted her whole hand. Its intricate design comprised of shiny chrome, lined with bright silver swirls circling around the face comprising of two hands and a third that moved constantly, and numerals comprised of lines and other aesthetics he thought to be nonsense.

“What is that thing?” Oscar asked, looking puzzled if Maely could tell it.

“I don’t know.” Maely replied. “At first I thought it was a clock of sorts. However, it isn’t like any clock I’ve ever seen.”

“Where did you get that trinket?” asked the white spider.

“I found it.” Maely said, speeding her sentence.

“You found it?”

The Dalix returned the chained clock in her pocket. “I sure did. Thought it was lost by a Visitor or something like that. Slippery fingers, carelessness, who knows?”

“Odd. I thought you prefer to stay away from those…people. How did you find that weird looking clock?” Oscar asked, poking at Maely’s cheek repeatedly.

Maely bit her lip. “Oh, somewhere off Bitalweiss up north.”

“Bitalweiss?” Oscar repeated.

“It’s an old ruin very, very far away from the cities. I was on a Following a couple weeks ago, gods save them all, and we found our way there. It was quite decrepit; caves leading underground to an old mining complex long abandoned because of workers turning up…missing. “Maely explained. “You would feel right at home down those caves, nice and chilly.”

Oscar scoffs to the thought. “And how would you know that little fact?”

“How else would I? That’s how I found the clock! I may not know how to read this blasted thing, but at least that gives me the universal reason not to waste time now, right?” Maely said, rubbing Oscar’s furry head with her finger to tease him.

“Ack!” Oscar grunted from the rubbing of his head. “That hurt! But anyway, do what you want I suppose. It’s more interesting to see how this all plays out than rather making golden silk scarves for snooty children back in the marble allies of Levaenaux.”

Adventurous and witty is she who could never keep her own hands to herself, but Maely was always the do-as-I-please sort of young lady, the typical kind that isn’t so typical enough to venture out on a Following. A Following is like a travelling school where those who consider themselves students would follow a teacher of any trade out into the world to learn their craft by learning where they go. It’s a complete free-for-all; no one helps anyone but themselves as is the usual norm, but these days a Following is a rarity. The Emperor imposed a crackdown on these travelling classrooms as an attempt to root out insurgents who declare their right to learn the truth of the missing light. It was a brutal period when students were scared off into the unknown by the Council of Misfits while their teachers became imprisoned or killed off on the Emperor’s whim. Maely was one of the students who were lost, and also, trying to find answers about the missing light as well as many others try to. She may not know how much time she has from an strange looking clock, but she remains counting every minute as she climbed the steps leading up to the sky, hopefully holding a clue somewhere if it lies underneath a bed, on a shelve, or in the head of a certain squatter.