Rynth: Four Beats

| 6th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |

Raoul didn’t react in anger. That was rarely the first choice he opted to go with in any situation. He was the kind to observe, understand, and react accordingly, with some exceptions. Any person would have a reason for the choices they choose to make in their lives, whether they were rooted in the logical or the emotional. He sensed that in Avil’s case, his heart and mind leaned toward the latter. Still, he was getting dangerously close to breaking.

He didn’t respond immediately. He stopped, taking massive breaths to calm himself.

“Why would you be satisfied with your life? I can’t possibly speak for you—it’s your life after all, and I can’t possibly understand what you’ve lived through these past few years. Still, I’m sitting here right now, across from the person I was proud to call a friend after so long. The Avil I knew stuck to his habits and didn’t allow anyone to change him as a person.”

Raoul continued, taking another deep breath, both to gather his next words and to give himself space to breathe. “Do you still remember the day we became friends? On picture day?”

The brows on his forehead twitched upward ever so slightly. He allowed himself to recall the memory. “Of course. We had just received our yearbooks, and were asked to have our peers sign them. You had a fair few dozen who offered. Cali and I had over three-quarters of the school in the classroom at one point. And Idri only yours.”

“And what did you do when she was sobbing?”

“I…” he hesitated, seating himself upright and leaning a chin on his palm. “I called over Cali and we signed Idri’s yearbook. It made everyone else think that she was a friend of mine, and they started crowding around, offering her their signatures too. She knew it was fake, but she was really happy to be surrounded by so many people at once.”

Raoul gave him an approving nod, and then blinked to piece together another topic. “I’ll even take a page from your past self and compare it to your current. The tree; I’ll bring it up again. Remember when we visited on Idri’s eleventh birthday?”

A shiver coursed through Avil’s entire body, and a visible flinch shocked itself out of him. His lips quivered, struggling to put to words his thoughts without hurting his fragile conscience. “I… I do. She was complaining about missing Tel Midasia when we weren’t there, so I offered to have one grown at my home, since she was living there at the time.”

He crossed his arms at Avil’s recollection. “Go on.”

“We didn’t have any of the seeds of that particular tree. It didn’t exist in the city. I offered to pay a druid to visit and cast Reproduce Life and create a copy of the exact same tree atop Pinky. She refused, and said it would be more fun for the four of us to go back to Tel Midasia and cut out a sapling to grow here.”

Avil continued, his gaze half-shifting to the windows behind him, bright as ever. “I made a promise that I’d keep it healthy and water it every day.”

“She’s closed her eyes, you know.” sighed Raoul. “I purposely neglected to mention the tree when I noticed the flowers. You’re quite lucky. If she saw what’d become of it…”

A mild descent in the room’s temperature. A chill. Avil raised his voice slightly, cutting Raoul off before he could continue. “Do you have a point you’re going to with this, Raoul? Are you just reminding me of the past to make me feel bad? Well, I’m afraid your efforts won’t bear fruit. Things change. People change. Time changes people. I’m no longer the Avil I was all those years ago, and that’s okay. I have a way forward, and I’ll slug myself along it no matter the hurt it causes me, or the others around me. Father’s already said it so.”

“Father, father, father…” Raoul repeated, his tone souring the more he did. With his own reply, the room further chilled, almost to an uncomfortable freeze. The clench in his fist was so tight that his wrist was straining with the effort of keeping his temper contained. “I’ve been listening to you going on about Oroan for minutes now. Have you ever thought about thinking for yourself? Have you ever even stopped to think beyond the future decided for you? It’s because we’re so similar, Avil, that I’m willing to extend a hand out for you to grasp time and time again. Unlike you, I had a figure in my life that bid me to think beyond my cage. He taught me how to fly once more. And I’m not going to give up until you’re flying with me.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You couldn’t possibly understand the weight of the responsibilities I carry on my shoulder! I have not just my own life to look after, but the lives of my father, as well as the countless people under him. It’s not easy for me to just walk away! I’m sorry, Raoul, but you’ll have to just continue onward without me and Cali…”

He didn’t finish. Raoul kicked himself off his seat and tightened his left hand around Avil’s collar, pulling him almost over the table. With his right he sent a devastating haymaker straight to his cheek. Smack. Unfocused Jati spilled from his fist in white, enhancing the blow enough to fling him up and away from him.

The sheer force from the hit kicked him off his feet and sent him bucking into the windows behind him. Cracks split from the focus of the impact into the rest of the glass, stopping only when Avil pulled himself off and stood upright. He brought a palm to his left cheek, irking as the bruising red began to swell. “You… You punched me.”

“I did,” replied Raoul, waving off his own fist. It hurt. Majorly. But he wasn’t going to show it on his face when he had just struck a close friend. “I figured I’d knock some sense into you. If you’re not going to be convinced, then put your hands up. I challenge you to a Versti, Avil.”

A Versti. The word for ‘duel’ in Eraean, of which the creation of was signaled when the challenger removed a glove from his right hand and tossed it at the challenged. For someone whose family took much inspiration from the monarchical country, it was practically impossible for Avil to refuse.

Still caressing his bruise, Avil straightened himself, eyes locked into Raoul’s. “You’re invoking the rule of duels. Fine. The time?”

“Now.”

Expected. “The venue?”

“Here, your study.”

“The method of combat?”

“No holds barred. Use all that you have.”

“The rules of engagement?”

“First to collapse and not get up in three seconds must yield to their opponent’s wishes. Either you will join me, Avil, or I will leave you and Calliope here.”

Avil nodded, ingraining into his mind the rules of the duel. With a grunt, he wiped the small bits of spit that had drawn out of his lips from the punch and loosened his dress shirt. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down. The air felt heavy and noticeable on each pore of skin. The scent of coffee blankened, seeming almost tasteless and odorless to the body. The birds outside flew half as fast.

He was bound to pull out his trump card the exact moment he could. Had he had the chance to work on it since then? Raoul didn’t know. All that he cared about at that very moment was winning the duel and bringing his two friends over to his side.

With a deep breath, Raoul steadied himself. He tapped into the inner wellspring of his conviction and exhaled. Awakening. He was going to make sure Avil awakened, too.