Rose Blumen ~ Exogignesthai

(Rose)

Nokarlık is running after balls of dust the wind is carrying through the streets. Or she’s trying to. She’s adorable.

She fell again, and the rivers then flows.

Real puddles soak her face, clothes and feet before I can reach her to comfort her. She drenches my clothes and chest with tears, but the sorrow is swiftly forgotten there.

She likes to bite and pull my skin with her rubbery teeth. I pull her cheeks in response.

Now she laughs. The cry is forgotten.

She stands up, and begins running after something else that shines in her eyes.

A few steps, and another attempt at running follow each other in cycles. The balance of her body becomes unsteady as soon as movement reaches her mantle of hair and flesh on her back.

She trips again and falls flat, again. Soon, another puddle of tears appears, not twenty metres away from the previous one still soaking the ground.

She’s so cute in her clumsiness, I want to nibble on her cheeks again.

But first a well due solace in embrace, my poor child.

The loud cries are rapidly dying in comfort against me, blissfully.

~

Unless we find some helicopter fuel, which is unlikely, or something we could transmute into fuel, which is possible, we won’t be able to fly much further.

But unless this city proves to be dangerously unsafe, we won’t fly away soon or in a hurry.

So Blume leaves the helicopter. Actually, the plants that have taken hold over it stay, but her mind and will move away, returning fully into the pale roses in my chest.

I can tell she’s exhausted.

R – You want to sleep for a while, don’t you?

B – Yes... But not entirely.

She doesn’t need to say what I know. She’s a little afraid that if she deactivates her consciousness now, it may never reawaken later.

She feels that her tired brain structure, though invisible and immaterial, is on the verge of abandon.

If she were to sleep, to modify her consciousness into a deeper state, there’s a chance her structure could collapse and turn to fragments and dust before she or I could do anything about it.

She’s wary of her own death. Complete this time. It’s not certain, but it’s really possible.

We discussed it before. Immortality without some form of reproduction is an illusion, especially for beings-like-her, which do not reproduce. They feel immortal because nothing material directly affects their mind.

But the latent structure of T.I. behind their brain and existence, it still decays and erodes with time, and this structure itself is without solid skull nor rejuvenating metabolism. It ages, by itself and against the environment. They just cannot naturally realise it any more than we see our viruses and cells replacements.

We’ve taken measures for new lives in the past, with various results.

Blume evolved and aged nonetheless. She lost the replicates of her younger mind along the way. She’s an organism now closer to agony than ever before.

R – I can see only one way ahead for you, should you wish to live longer.

B – Oh?

It’s nothing she hasn’t done before. Don’t ask me to think of something new.

R – Even if Nightmare isn’t here to help, I will.

B – It was nice indeed to live in a gorgeous body...

But with a more manifest sight that your body is mortal and that your existence is limited to end someday, inevitably.

She is afraid, because all her options now imply death at the end of the road. She could never picture death before, unless it was from aggression.

And we can’t know which option is truly better.

She’s having the imaginary equivalent of a cold sweat, as two unknown passes are open to her. She can pick only one, and the roads ahead are shrouded either way.

R – Take your time to decide. I will be with you along, for either way.

She hugs me, with an invisible and silent cry along herself. It’s all quiet, but...

My dearest Blume is really afraid and making me tear up along with sympathy.

Nokarlık hugs me as well, because I looked sad for a moment.

~

While Blume thinks about her future from her invisible corner, Nok and I venture into the city in ruins, amazed over everything, curious and inquisitive...

She moves a little her long hair like a heavy cape or a tail at times. I didn’t realise it at the beginning, but this pelt is actually more a wide tail than hair for the part below the pelvis. I noticed the roots of this hair weren’t only on her scalp, but continued down all along her spine; but there is a root at the end of her sacrum where muscles still were building themselves up.

That’s also why her hair is stuck to her back, because it’s all the same part of her body growing from there, glued from the brows to the tail.

She can’t move that tail well yet, but I notice it moving, as the lower parts of this mantle of hair moves around awkwardly below her hips level. Walking with her legs and grabbing things with her hands were more important things to learn first.

She ran after another thing that was too mesmerising to let go or wait to reach by mere walking. I couldn’t quite guess what it was.

Without a surprise, as soon as the pelt began to be lifted by the speed, her balance was compromised. She tried to recover, almost dancing, and crashed into rubbles a step further.

I saw her face with watery eyes and trembling lips. My heart was squeezed.

Another loud cry made pipes in the nearby building resonate along.

Hugs and kisses soothed the innumerable fall. Her legs and hands are scorched to blood, again, not from this fall alone.

She coagulates well and fast though. She never lost more than a droplet. She’s not her mother’s creation for naught.

I’m willing to bet there’s even more her blood can do than meets the eye.

I’m more puzzled about her amount of tears meanwhile. Because she literally cries litres of water in the course of a single day here. We’re drenched.

For now I kiss the sides of her eyes. She’s tickled and smiles again.

A stunning smile, oh my child...

~