Arachnid Archives: Chapter III
Below are links to the last two chapters of this story. Catch up on what you missed and dive in to the next installment of Jed Ki's re-telling of the Telaraña crew.
Any feedback or questions are welcome, leave a comment below!
Cleo
our dreamer looks around to see a landscape of trees only semi-dressed in leaves
bare branches beginning to show their mirrored root systems top side
dried leaves catching sail on a sweeping gust of wind
softly twirling, swaying all about, landing on the ground only to be lifted again on the next exhale of the world's seasons
mesmerized by the pigments of ochre, bronze, and russet crimsons, our dreamer begins to walk forward in a non-specific direction
as the promenade begins...the ecology around begins to blur
shifting into a tunnel of movement that the dreamer notices at first, peripherly
strides slow to steps that will allow these changes to be perceived more intently
as the dreamer gradually stops walking forward, without turning around they begin taking steps backwards in the direction they started
in doing so, the ecology tunnel changes directions alongside them
moving in a blur of transition
a lifelong pilgrimmage condensed into a slurry of sensations
the dreamer now realizes they are in a dream
transitions in the waking realm don't happen this quickly
stopping in their tracks the entire scenery from before has drifted
now, the dreamer begins exploring the emerging mindscape
merging with phenomena gracefully
Cleo wakes up without opening their eyes.
Breathing softly to check if they're "truly" awake this time.
Internal dreaming or external dreaming,
whose to say?
No point is fixed...
Wiggling toes to feel the soft surface of their sleeping bag.
Somewhere far off in the distance, a light breeze picks up as the lapping waters kiss the cave walls good morning. Even without a sun dawning, Cleo inherited references to a day's progression from their ancestors who inhabited planets with horizons and atmospheres where no suits were necessary for breathing.
Cleo knows they dream of places their DNA remembers from prior generations.
Imprints left behind in mitochondrial codes and enzymiatic envelopes for protein architectures that generate subconscious metaphors they are continuously learning to decipher.
They hear Camilia nearby doing their morning ngondro practice, mummbled syllables passed down through eons of teachers.
Camilia likes to talk about how praise and grief require compassion and understanding.
As she continues her vows of service, Cleo quietly disentangles themselves from the folds of warmth that have held their sleeping body.
Standing up, Cleo notices the fire crackling at the center of the space.
Surronded by an elegant array of stones that make a ring around its elemental siblings of flame and ash.
Cleo takes in the details, understand that this is an established hearth that has the presence of being frequented quite often, loved dearly, and collaborated with endlessly.
A kettle of water is beginning to rise in temperture, a rolling sound of liquid melodies. The kettle hangs from its handle on a hook that is connected to a larger welded iron mechanism that sits surrounding the hearth. The iron structure has many hooks that hold various sized pots, pans, and other vessels that Cleo can't quite name.
Interest peaked they walk toward the warmth to wiggle their toes some more and melt the sleep away from their shoulders. As they walk they think to themselves, I dreamt of a forest again. It was...what's that word Artemesia said once...Odd run...Aunt Tum...Autumn! It was Autumn. Hmm...interesting.
Unda enters the main chamber, trailing smoke cascading from the resin cup she carries in her left hand. She crumbles another piece of resin on the coals while finding a seat across from Cleo. Her face is shadowed by her cloak's hood, and her lips are tinted hawthorn berry maroon.
Cleo watches the smoke signaling to the atmosphere, seeing how it makes intricate messages through a language that speaks in aromas.
As she reaches toward the pouch of resins by her side, Unda says, We begin clearing a space with dragon's blood. It's virtue is to bring energetics back to zero. The place where kinetics and invisible matter meet in a bow of acknowledgement. Feeding the balances of all that holds these realms together. Smoke is a bridge between here and there.
Cleo tracks the smoke more intently now as it disappears into the chamber's energetic field.
Unda continues, Smoke feeds those we collaborate with to protect us and guide us in our insight. Those with sensitive minds need to ask for help from those beings who dwell in wavelengths, absent of particle constraint they can aid us with visual or symbolic messages. You, Cleo, seem to have a vibrant dreamscape, how is your waking sight? Do you ever hear things that no one else around you seems to?
Closing their eyes as they respond, Cleo expresses in a tone that rings of relief, When I'm awake I don't see much with my eyes open. When I close them I can feel connections between things more clearly. Sounds often come with images that help me understand the underlayers of what's being shared. I don't think there's anything going on with my ears...Do emotions count as sounds? I can hear them in the way people speak or stay in silence...
Unda is nodding, taking in what they share with an air of someone who believes the intricate sensations that this child is revealing. The disclosure moves through Cleo like an exhale that they didn't know they were holding. A subtle tension they held in needing to talk with someone about this. Not just anyone, but someone like Unda who had their own experiences with sensational perception.
Unda reaches into her cloak and pulls out a pair of glasses. The black frames are circlular, simple and lightweight. The lenses are tinted in a translucent dark red. She holds them in her open palm and asks, Cleo can you come pick these up and put them on?
Cleo walks back to their seat with the lenses on their face. Finding it a bit odd how perfectly the glasses fit, as if they were theirs all along. The red tint doesn't obscure anything, but it does darken the shadows and makes the fire's flames be less bright. They can see different shapes in the fire now that it's a bit more dim. Little whisping movements make Cleo's eyes widen, Woah. What are these glasses?
Unda has a small grin on her face, Think of those as a part of your psychic armor. Let them show you the essence of physical things. They work differently for each seer who wears them. We’re going to go on an outing later where they may come in handy.
Camellia comes to sit next to Cleo as Unda prepares a pot of tea for them to share over more conversation about the clues she has to gift her new apprentice.
----
Artemisia
Atmos is kneeling on the ground in front of Artemisia. She's sitting on a chair at the commons table inside of Tela. Cervus stands behind her as he massages her shoulders softly and intently.
Atmos' ear is pressed up to Artemisia's belly with his eyes closed as he says, I do hear some rustling happening in there. Gurgles and bubbles that sound new.
He turns his face to put his mouth on her belly, Heeellllloooo little bug. Let us know if you need anything in there and we'll make it happen. Automatic.
Artemisia laughs softly, closing her eyes and putting a hand on Atmos' head as he backs up to sit on the floor, That goes for the both of you too. This is about the realest group project we could have ever gotten served up.
Atmos pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he sees Cervus calmly kiss the top of Artemisia's head.
Cervus breathes out deeply into her hair as he returns to massaging her shoulders and says, I've been noticing some changes in our field and I had a sense that this could be one of the reasons why. A new branch is sprouting for the Tela fam tree, w o w.
With her eyes still closed Artemisia responds with a slight laugh in her tone, I'm spinning a bit from this. My brain is going toward the logistics. Gotta make a trip to the port here...Gotta check how many of those nutrient packs we have in our pantry..What kind of...
As she continues listing various things...
Cervus and Atmos look at each other with a knowing glance. Artemisia gets real pragmatic when she's experiencing a lot of different emotions at once. It's one of her cues that she might be feeling a bit overwhelmed. Atmos gets up to find her writing tablet.
He walks back with it and gently places it on her lap. Artemisia looks relieved as she pulls the pen out and begins scribbling her list on it. They all sit in silence for a few minutes as the sound of the pen moves on the glass screen. With a click, the tablet shuts off. With a content sigh leaving her lips. A completed list giving her a sense of ease.
Artemisia adds, Thank you both. I love you. I'm growing a sprout! I'm a womb gardener now too, add it to the list of credentials why don't ya.
I'm glad Cleio and Camellia are out and about so we can let this all settle in...annnnnddd maybe that means we can do something fun too?
Cervus smiles, We're way ahead of you. Atmos has been pulling some strings and got you all a group date for this evening. I'm going to take some time to see the kelp forest trails, there's a glow orb study session with the mystics. I got an invite scroll delivered a bit ago. I've been needing some solo time too. You all have fun getting up to your shenanigans. We'll catch up again in a few rotations, give all this news some room to digest.
Artemisia reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Intertwining her fingers with his she turns to stand on the chair and give him a big hug. Legs wrapped around his torso and whispering into his curls, Wow, we're doing this, wow. Cervus holds her up and walks them toward the kitchen.
Atmos lays on his back, relaxing into the ground as Artemisia and Cervus whisper and giggle through their see you later moment.
Atmos has his eyes closed, thinking about that one harmonica riff in the cowboy bebop song. Cervus walks out of the common area to his bedroom pod.
Artemisia walks back to where Atmos is laying. She sits cross legged by his head, giving him a kiss on the forhead. He opens his electric blue eyes and has a mischievous grin spreading across his face, I love how freshly rustled you look after a swoony embrace.
Artemisia bends to give his nose a kiss, Thanks for making plans for us. Where we headed? What's the group date? What kind of attire are we going for?? Mysterious poets or rowdy pirates??
A warm chuckle rumbles Atmos' chest as he sits up to face Artemisia, Well captain, that depends on what kind of signals we're trynna send these fair plutonian friends while we scour their ports for something delicious to eat.
They both get up and start walking toward the shared costume chamber in the basement of the ship. As they walk, they chatter and laugh at their inside jokes, fingers interwtined and a comfortable pace to their stroll.
