Rose Blumen ~ Exogignesthai 1

(Rose)

Following the damaged and uneven coastline of the British Channel, we finally end up finding something we could use to sail abroad.

Well, we found two things really, but I refuse vehemently us trying the first one.

We found a private airport, now ending over a cliff. A small plane is in a warehouse, perhaps working, probably not.

We found a bigger warehouse with various commercial goods, tools and vehicles, including a small fishing boat. We'll use that.

As usual, most of the containers hold naught but mould or unidentifiable aging goods.

But what's left is enough for us to live for days, and soon to leave the island. Great!

Bleue is pulling a rope that helps the boat slowly slide over logs we've set, leading toward the sea.

We hurt our back and shoulders, bringing that boat to sea. But we'll make it.

We take turns as it is difficult. The other one pushes the big locks behind to avoid it slipping or falling.

We take an afternoon of rest while it's raining outside.

I rummage through other crates, while Bleue is building something in the small workshop that is there.

I found weapons, but nothing matching my rifle. I leave it there. I found clothes still in good shape. Bleue clings to her black shirt now muddy and stained, I change however.

I see patches of gasoline over some puddles that climb the rain upward in the courtyard.

They are coloured, prismatic mists that jump from drop to drop of water, making a dance not unlike fire, only very transparent. It's quite a show.

We look at it while eating some twenty years old cookies. They taste like bland flour and rancid oil, but they're still good.

~

Bleue built a compass for the ship.

As for I, I found something probably more dangerous than guns, if Bleue were to see it. Ack.

As I feel a cold shiver running through my back, I try to silently close the wooden crate I just peeked into.

And woe is me, Bleue was behind me at that moment, maybe sensing an opportunity.

B - What have you found Rose?

I remember living a situation like that before. I could try to lie all I want, to fight desperately my doom. But all my efforts hiding the truth could only delay, slightly, the inevitable, not by much. She'll read through me.

So I sigh deeply and give up already...

I reopen the box and take one of the bottles it holds.

Bleue looks surprised, but not as thrilled as I expected her to be.

B - Are you... drinking now?

R - ! Oh, no. But I thought you would be very keen on getting me drunk.

B - That doesn't sound nice, nor like me.

R - Well, it was just a worry I had...

B - I don't recall ever drinking alcohol straight. Is it good?

R - It depends on your taste I would say. If you stay reasonable, we can taste it.

~

We took a short sip each from two different bottles. Bleue coughs and says it burns.

I don't know much about alcoholic beverages, but I can tell it's stronger than ale or wine at least. Much stronger.

I stop after three sops as I can feel my balance slightly soften already.

Bleue just wets her lips in it.

B - It's sweeter than I thought but it just sends shivers through my body right after.

R - Well, it makes me all soft, I can feel my body losing its solidity rapidly. I'll stop there.

I go to do my share of pulling the boat now. Now we use makeshift counterweights near the cliff to do the work, but we still need to carry the weights and the locks, back and forth.

Bleue takes a last sip, making a displeased face, then comes to help me.

We finish the day, taking small sips peacefully and regularly, when we take breaks from the efforts.

Hours pass, very slowly, us working physically and sipping one liquid pea at a time.

And meanwhile, we get gradually more cheerful and warm. We smile and laugh more, at the efforts, at our situation, at how we look more and more uncouth, and in the end at nothing in particular.

The faces we make as we move the heavy metallic logs and crates. The awkwardness of bringing a ship to water the way we do from necessity. The lock of hair that keeps falling over my face. Bleue's flushed face after a while.

At nightfall, the boat is almost ready to slide the last slope toward the water below.

We don't want to proceed now as we can tell we're getting a tadsy unreliable.

We leave it as is for the night and return inside to keep laughing at everything.

As I trip over a cable and fall flat, Bleue bursts in laughter before trying to clumsily help me.

I laugh at how ridiculous we've become. I say we should just sit and no longer touch anything, just ot be safe.

She nods with teary eyes from amusement in agreement.

Still, I scratched the palm of my hand and it bleeds a little. I refuse the pouring of alcohol over the small cuts. We sit against a wall while I try to clean my hand in another manner.

Bleue takes her bottle, but as I'm getting worried, she closes it instead of drinking and puts it away.

She looks very sleepy now. She goes to bed as she is, without even taking her shoes off.

Since she looks asleep already, I gather what's left of my own strength and go to help her.

Taking shoes and socks off. Mine and hers. I bring the coats as pillows and lie beside her. She mumbles something and passes her arm around my neck, not letting me go anymore.

She's asleep, drooling, very uncouth, and keeping me right with her, not allowed to leave.

I sigh, but I'm happy really. I let her hold me and soon fall in slumber as well.

~

On morning, I wake up with a half-naked Bleue all over me, one of her legs across my chest.

I slept so soundly I didn't feel her moving that much. I move her gently away and stand up. My head feels a little heavy but I'll be fine.

As she wakes up later, Bleue however feels terrible.

B - Oooow... My head feels so weird, and bad.

R - Good morning young drinker. Don't worry, it will pass soon enough.

We're both pretty weak to alcohol.

Bleue keeps scratching a spot at the back of her head.

B - I can't feel my scar...

R - You... It's gone, it's okay.

I was about to say she never had any. But it could hurt her to hear so. Blue had her trepanation scar.

B - Oh... That's right. And we don't have the bellybutton from our mother anymore either... This feels weird today.

R - It's alright.

I go to comfort her and pat her head gently. She grabs my hand and brings it to her warm forehead. She sighs in relief as my hand feels cold and refreshing there.

B - My bellybutton never bothered me, but my scar where my skull used to be fractured still somehow itches me. If you see what I mean?

R - I used to feel something similar to that when I lost my fingers or my eye yes. But they... Well... They grew back.

B - Nothing unusual nowadays I guess. Which fingers did you lose?

I show her my left hand. It's scratched from yesterday, but I'm not missing any phalanges or nails now.

She kisses my hand and asks me to do the same. So I kiss the back of her head.

B - Should we keep a bottle or two for the sail and after?

Hm...

I agree.

~