Rose Blumen ~ Exogignesthai 1

(Rose)

I feel like I'm floating inside a pool. I'm not drowning. I'm asleep.

I can't hear Blume.

I feel rather lonely.

I want to run outside like that kid.

It's been too long... Hasn't it?

Through what Blume and I have become over time, I've learnt a few things from beyond my time.

And since I've heard this voice, saying this little poem a short while ago, I'm reminded of concepts I've never learnt or heard of, and yet that I know a little about.

So I somehow know a few things that I never learnt. And one especially clicks with me, feeling so intuitive I'd swear I learnt it when I was a child. It's a principle of chaos theory. Or just a simplified explanation of it Blume learnt somewhere and transmitted to me over time.

Like German, I didn't learn it really, Blume brought it within me. I guess.

That poem reminded me of this saying.

One event doesn't just occur by itself.

An action has a cause and a consequence, each event causing the next, and the next, and so on in an endless linear fashion, like strings, or threads.

Threads of fate.

And one event you can be emotional about, has always a direct cause you can find on that thread. As if someone or something killed your father. You can find the culprit.

But the thread can be followed further back in time, to the cause that made the culprit act this way, or even him to exist at all.

And so on into genealogy, you can follow the thread of causality endlessly.

The reality is far more complex, threads are reticulated all over, into countless fibres that gather and spread all the time. The threads are really the lines you chose to focus on in an endless web of time.

Which makes every event the consequence, the improbable consequence of an infinite number of previous events, and so on.

The leaves that make me slip have each a full thread that brought them there under my shoes. What matters most may be my yawning, but these threads still are there, and countless.

And such events as wars, beginning with a casus belli, may have started anyway without that particular even, if enough steps and threads heading toward conflict had been taken already anyway.

Chaos theory in my meagre understanding of it, is the appearance of such patterns, faggots of clues leading into something different. One event building toward war happens, then another, then another... They may not be on the same threads at all, but eventually, with the last casus belli, the thread of a great war appears.

My descriptions are poor, but what I mean is: Patterns emerging from chaos.

One event, somewhere, somewhen, occurs. My father buying a doll.

Another unrelated event, somewhere, somewhen, occurs. An Ottoman ship sinking on the shores of japan.

Another unrelated tragedy occurs somewhere, somewhen. A train wreck in central England.

And years later, another.

My sisters' death. My journey to London. Someone compiling these old folkloric tales of a daiûa in Karelia.

An artist writing the song of Gülnihal in the Ottoman empire.

With that poem I just her or recalled, while I was already half awake in this state, floating somewhere warm, I noticed it...

I noticed a pattern emerging from the chaos of my history. Even long before I had any power over it. Some of these events happened before I was born.

Retrospectively, like war, it's much easier to spot the events forming the visible chain of events leading to it, the main thread of fate.

But it's easier at posteriori. Before that, at priori, it's incredibly hard to predict what the future may hold, unless bundles of clues start aligning somewhat.

Who could say what will do someone whom isn't alive yet?

Who could have foreseen the life and choices of this kind daiûa I call Blume?

She was the rock thrown into the puddle of chaos.

Or maybe just another dot, with causes, and consequences.

I've begun to notice that pattern, in which she played a role, my daiûa, as did Blue's daiûa in her time.

The thread, if you look only at it and forget every other fibres bound to it, looks as if everything had led only to this point.

It's an optical illusion of course, because obviously everything led anything that happened, to their happening, every leaves. It's logical. An illusion of fate, easier to see after the facts.

So this poem I recalled, feels as if everything had led to this point, this new event I notice.

It has multiple causes inscribed in a pattern I now notice with full attention.

It will have consequences on that thread that follows my own.

I don't even think that it's a good poem. But that's beside the point.

To me, it rang suddenly and strongly as chaos theory in action, revealed under the limelight.

From chaos, the patterns have become a visible thread.

Her voice rang in my head as if she was already inside.

Your voice...

Each word heavy with meaning from the whole pattern and past events that lead to it, from hundreds of years ago.

Before we were even born...

I wonder what made you chose these words...

 - You are not Rose. I am not Blue. Yet here we are, Their promise true.

~

As the veil was ripped, I fell into the arms of someone. I was falling with water and thus quickly feeling cold.

The light blinding me, I've had flashes of memories.

I only recall the one of Ogre crushing my head. It's the kind of memory that wakes you up suddenly in the middle of your sleep, startled and scared.

I cough. Someone is taking care of me. I'm cold. My chest feels cold.

I look around in a daze. There are a few people around but I'm looking for one only. Another silhouette being carried away like me. I raise my hand and voice toward it.

R - Blue...

Blue raised a hand toward me and spoke my name.

She's alive...

Against all odds. Against all odds...

She's alive, and so am I.

~

I woke up on a bed. Some rough clothes left for me.

And a note with a handwriting very similar to mine, saying welcome back, from my friend Zeslinry.

I'm in England?

I'm confused, and don't recognise the place nor the landscape by the window. Zeslinry changed house I guess...

This place looks like a palace, not by the decorum but the size. The ceiling is maybe four metres high even in this guest room.

By the windows of the room, I see a wide field under the rain.

I dress with that magenta pink dress.

It's been a while since I last wore a dress.

I have a scar on my chest... Blume isn't there... I feel a little hollow.

She will grow back eventually. But I don't understand where I am nor why.

I exit the room and venture inside what is a huge mansion. It sounds actually rather lively. I hear chatters and laughs.

Whispers can be heard at every corner I pass as if I were spied on by children.

But they sound more amused and kind that creepy and odd. There is a joyful mood in here.

I go downstairs. I can't manage to run into anyone, but I follow the path that is opened to me, playing along. I do hear people going around and whispering.

It reminds me of birthday surprises we sometimes did in our childhood.

I hear two women speaking about my arrival in the kitchen. As I try to open the door, they block it.

One of them apologizes in a laughing manner and say I should go to the main dining hall.

I want to play along but my curiosity is too high right now...

R - Who are you? Your voice sounds really familiar.

She leaves through another way, door left locked, laughing in a mischievous manner like my sisters used to.

I feel odd hearing all this.

I reach the main dining hall.

I hear someone say I always were a sleepy head.

I go inside. It's dark, but I hear chatters. It really reminds me of birthday surprises.

The door is closed behind me, I'm in the dark for the reveal.

- Welcome back Rose. Can you guess who is there?

R - Zeslinry, Myls, you... And, Blue?

- Hmmm. Is that close enough?

- Well, she will find out soon enough anyway, so let's surprise her one good time before it spoils.

- Agreed.

I brace myself, very confused by what I hear. The light is switched on.

I see a swarm of myself yelling surprise and laughing.

I pass out.

~

This... wasn't on the pattern...

I wake up in the same room as before, as if it was just a weird dream before.

But my head hurts a lot this time. I have a bump...

The door is opened as I sit on the bed. Myls, and a rose...

They bring me a meal.

R - You're... One of the mindless roses, I mean, roses. Licht told me about you...

- That is correct. We're free now, thanks to her. Sorry for the good scare, we wanted to get back at you, at least a little.

For causing them to be and suffer...

R - I'm sorry... Licht did not want my help. She said you were her... meaning in life. Not mine. She didn't want me to interfere in her fight against her god.

- I can understand her... See, you're the one living her life as Rose, so we build our identity somewhere else.

She's holding Myls's shoulders. This disturbs me. She is grinning. Making fun of me or getting me uncomfortable are their way of getting back at me for their suffering. I can't blame her.

Myls seems happy.

R - How many are you?

- Twenty-four living here. Thirty-one confirmed survivors last week. We probably were about half a thousand inhabiting Dragod. There may be others we haven't found yet, but it's becoming very unlikely.

R - I see... It's tragic... And is Blue...

- She's here. She's... as much of herself as she can be I guess. She'll come and see you as soon as she's done playing with the others I guess. She was a little ecstatic to wake up surrounded by so many roses.

We exchange the same smile. It does sound like her somehow...

So, it really happened. She's alive...

~