The Nimbat Colony
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Year Round
🕑 Added 2023-01-18 22:17:21 +0000 UTCPublished on 1/18/22, written by Frequency. (3204 words, ~14 minute read.)
“Two days?”
The green-colored batty with the needles and yarns making a disaster of her desk grumbled, and poured her vision over the wool poncho that slung over the workstation, covering what little space there was. This actually made Kara stiffen with anxiety. Needles didn’t pierce or tear the strands of fabric that held most things together, that’s what made them so excellent in their handiwork. But even the thought of such an unlikely thing caused the worst of her emotions to encroach over her mind, threatening to take shape in some expelling retort. But, she kept her patience, hugging at herself just a bit. Again she asked, “Two whole days?”
“Give or take. I’ve got a few more orders before this one, and it might take time, you know?”
Kara winced. “That’s…you aren’t doing this without magic, are you? I don’t see one of those machines. Why does it take that long?”
The tailor tutted, and lifted the wooly fabric, examining the main blemish that’d marked the poncho. A gaping wound over the purple elements, like it was bleeding. “I’d wager to say on a normal day, I could get these all done in an hour, tops. Then yours in less than ten. But apparently, I’m stuck with a big commission. Jena wanted me to prepare a kind of…ugh, she called it a ‘celebratory garb.’ Something over some successful set of agreements with some clan in the mountains. It’s gonna take me a day alone to design this thing. Sorry, m’am.”
“But this is personal to me. It belonged to—“
“I’m sorry, m’am. Unless you got enough coin to make Jena want to delay her meeting, you’re going to have to tough it out. I promise I’ll have it repaired, not a single thing outta place.” Even with her assurance, something didn’t sit right in the tailor’s soul. She blinked at the cream-colored batcat, seeing for herself how truly appalled she looked. Her wizened eyes had shrunk, and her the corners of her lips were stuck curling downward. Sighing, she tapped a green mitt over the poncho a couple of times and said, “Maybe go and see her yourself. You know how understanding she is. Tell her what’s up, and maybe she’ll put things on hold for you.”
“I-If it doesn’t take so long to fix it, then why—?”
“Because I’m not the one being clingy about it! Let me work off my own schedule, get off my back!” The tailor’s paws were planted on the messy table, knocking a couple balls of yarn over. Her shoulders were raised, and her indignant face was etched in a very clear example of irritation. One more look at Kara, the moment her temper began to cool…and her heart broke. She’d driven the older Nimbat to a stifling mess, having covered her mouth and cheeks with both paws. And her eyes… Not just watery. They’d looked strained, afraid to open again, like she’d been expecting another slap to the face. “I’m sorry,” The green one mumbled, having lost too much pride to really look the other in the eye. “That wasn’t good of me, I don’t got an excuse for going off like that. I’m real sorry.”
But Kara had left in a bolt. What little thoughts of going to see Jena existed were dashed away with a swipe, and the gardener found every joint in her body become sore. It hurt to walk, and she didn’t have the will to fly. Instead she stumbled, looking straight down as she briskly strolled off the road, trying to get home as quickly as possible without needing to brush past someone else. Maybe a couple of Nimbats noticed her, but her peripherals were too soaked in rainy regret for her to take notice. Everything hurt. The Sun that made her poncho feel toasty and alive was gleaming and burning her silky furs. The faintest winds felt like teeth gnashing at her skin and ripping at her wings. Everything was hell. Living hell. It was all wrong. All wrong out here.
The last time she’d been so quick and frantic to open the door was when she’d been host to a quiet party. Those happier days seemed so much more sour when her digits touched the wooden framework of the entrance, pushing it open and escaping into the safety of her humble little home. All the scents of freshly-potted flowers were invisible to her senses. Her feet carried her all the way to her bed, where she threw her body into the comforter and buried herself within, clenching down on everything. Inside and out. Her arms and legs clamped down on cushion and cloth, as well as themselves. Her teeth grit, and her throat tightened. The world around her was gone, and through her closed eyes, tiny white sparks and flashes flickered from little disparagements in pressure. But she can’t bring herself to sob. It just felt more uncomfortable than anything. It would’ve kept her from drifting off from the emotional exhaustion, and finding some kind of peace in slumber.
…
The daily crop overview proved uneventful. Or perhaps, the workers didn’t feel up to their best this morning. Kara had arrived late, with little more than a cup of coffee nestled in her limb. It seemed like she’d just be sitting on her knees and examining the health of a stalk or a stem, eyeing over a leaf or an unblossomed growth to look for signs of damage or malnutrition. Nothing to report. Or, she didn’t care enough to take better notice. Even so, she filed her little reports in a sketchbook, keeping her words brisk and quiet. The low energy was infectious. Even the two Visitants lending a hand were taking notice, watching Kara in her blindspots. There’s always a palpable fear for approaching someone in such a sullen state. Would only specific words work? If they talked normally, would it just make her worse? Every bad thing she’d do or have happen to her would be on them, if such were the case. What could they do? Was…being there enough?
The shift ended uneventfully. Kara waddled to the pavilion, and found a seat on a bench, keeping her isolation on active duty. Her coffee had been refilled, but not her motivation. The best she could do was focus on the tiniest swirls and strands of milk in her drink, watching them ripple and move from one side to another. No specific patterns or recognized images. It was just therapeutic, in some fashion. Not nearly as therapeutic as stepping on mole trails, and feeling the disturbed earth sink back into place under her feet. Her dreary focus was broken by a voice she didn’t find very familiar.
“‘Ay. Did you guys start earlier or something? I was told to be here at sunrise. Well, Sun’s out. I’m here. What’s goin’ on?”
The felid standing in front of the creamier one was of an orange variety. White belly, straight black marks up her red eyes. A punkish, spunky aura that exuded from her jovial soul. Oh, this was the loud one from beyond the Colony. Kara vented a bit of air from her nose, and spoke without looking up from her seat. “Sunrise is when the Sun is starting to rise. Breaching or peeking over the horizon. Very early in the morning.” She tilted her head up some, blinking at her new company. “You’re not with Agriculture…hm, I suppose you got into a spot of trouble, right?”
Frequency looked far more proud than she’d ought to be. Her paws clapped together, and her muzzle curled into a toothy grin. “Unauthorized Visitant transformation and use of illegal foreign goods! Ain’t I terrible?” She laughed it off, and lurched in a bit, readily invading the older Nimbat’s personal space. “But it looks like I just missed work, so, I’ll try again tomorrow. Promise. Sorry, m’am.”
“On the dot. Don’t be late, or I’ll alert your sect,” Kara warned, but without much sternness in her voice. Her eyes dwindled back down to her coffee. Despite the heat coming off her cup, she still felt so cold… Or, she did, for about three seconds. That frisky cat had suddenly hooked her arms around her white, furred bod. Squirming and nearly spilling her coffee, she protested, “Get off of me, please. I’m not doing so great.”
“Uh-huh. Th’ fuck didja think I started huggin’ you for? I didn’t do it to see if I could make candy explode outta your frail ol’ body.” Frequency snorted, and nestled her soft cheek into the neck of the other Nimbat, picking a rate of vibration and sticking with it, pouring just an increment of meaningful warmth into Kara, no matter how much she grumbled and writhed.
“Frequency. Please. This isn’t… You’re not helping!”
“Aaww, c’mon. You can cry a little. I’m not gonna let you get all down in the dumps now, you’ve gotta deal with me in the morning. Otherwise, it’ll be some other shmuck stuck dealing with me, and it’ll be aaall your faul—“
“Frequency!”
The orange lass stumbled back, reeling her arms back to her sides. She nearly tripped; apparently, a vine had wrapped itself around her shin and had nearly begun tugging her backward and off of Kara by the time she’d begun respectfully and quickly backing away. Kicking her leg a bit, she freed herself from the loosening grip of the floral appendage that’d stuck out of the ground, ignoring the pairs of eyes under the pavilion that silently watched what looked to be unfolding drama. But instead of getting interrogative, the red-eyed batcat closed her legs together, furrowed her brow, and spoke in a scarily calm tone. “I’m sorry. I get…anxious, when I see somebody like this. I feel, like, I gotta throw everything in the book at a situation like this. Hugs, jokes, pokin’ fun, anything to rile you up and put at least some kind of smile on you. I wound up botherin’ you instead.” Much to Kara’s dismay, Frequency began taking up a seat next to her, close enough for their legs to almost touch. “…Hey, you’re the one in the poncho, ain’t ‘cha? Not feelin’ like wearing it today?”
“None of your business,” Kara mumbled, clutching her coffee cup extra tightly. She’s stuck deciding whether or not to bash this insolent girl upside the head with it and be rid of her. Right now, though, she felt that writing a few expletives toward the Protection Elder in complaint would make for a better result. “I just don’t have it on today. Now, go home. Do…anything else, please. I’d like to be alone.”
“Uh-huh. And, what? Just gonna stay like that, and make everybody around you all sad too? You look like you got a lot of folks that look up to you, imagine what they’re thinking—“
Kara’s temper shot past the boiling point, and she abruptly stood from her seat, scowling at the other. “Don’t you talk to me about that. That’s not fair! I’m not asking for anything more than to be left to my devices, and process things by myself! Let me be sad, you stupid…!” Her lips closed by themselves, realizing they’d ought to stop before her brain registered what she was about to say. Oh, but she wanted to say it. To let loose, and give this cheeky, invasive rat of a Nimbat what she’d ought to hear, and just shut her up. Kara was fuming. Digging her digits into her palms and shaking a bit. Who cared about what the spectators thought? Let ‘em gossip. She’s allowed to be angry at injustice. “Get out.”
But Frequency didn’t even wince. She stayed in her seat, putting one paw atop of her other, and pausing just a bit to make sure she had the right words before speaking them. “What happened?”
“Nothing! You just waltzed in, acted like you were some boisterous miracle worker that could give me a happy pill and make all the pain and sadness conveniently disappear, and had the gall to guilt-trip me using everyone watching us right now! You’re the problem. Now, get out.”
Now Frequency was getting stern. “Lady, whether I worked with you today or tomorrow, I wouldn’t be so sure if I’d ever be seeing you any time soon. I don’t wanna remember you like this. I wanna, like…I didn’t come here just for work. I was told you were inspiring. Everyone remembers you fondly, and I didn’t wanna be the one person that walked outta here remembering otherwise. I know you’re better… I wanna see that. I wanna help. Okay?”
Kara paused a bit. Honestly, she should’ve just sent this kitten to the ground and had her dragged through the dirt on her way home. “And what makes you think you deserve to…wait.” Wait. That’s it then, isn’t it. Her regret from yesterday had put her in an emotional tumble, and…now she’s irrational. Rightfully so, sure…but not in the way she wanted to be. Frequency was dumb, sure. But, she didn’t use any personal attacks. She wanted an opportunity to see how good a soul Kara could be, but fate gave her the wrong hand, and now she’s going to sit and deal with it. The cream-colored Nimbat shakily inhaled, and looked down a bit, slowly resettling back into her seat, and planting her paws in her lap. Her cup had spilled some, but the temperature wasn’t bad enough to burn her legs, while it remained cradled in her paws. “…You’re right. I’m just…nngh, the new year just began, and it’s off to a rough start. It feels like I can only expect bad things to happen. And if I don’t just fight against it and put my foot down, I’ll just…” Exhale. Every little bubble of air left her lungs, to be filled with a unique kind of despair. It hurt to breathe back in, with her lungs already quite turgid. “I just want things to work out.”
Frequency scoot in close, to be within better arms’ reach. Her stern, almost miffed demeanor had disappeared, and she’d went back to prodding, typical of her. “Never does. What is it, like…life sucks? And then you fuckin’ die? But, like…we don’t gotta go through any of that alone. Speakin’ through experience, when shit happens in the world? Find a buddy to yell at. Get ‘em mad for you. Tackle the problem…together. Then, hey, you’ll find stronger friends that way. Right?”
“Can I take just half an hour to just yell? Things just suck at home, and you’re my Advocate, so I thought maybe I could get this off my chest.”
Some reminders of her Visitant came by in funny ways. Little moments in life that spawned forth a piece of dialogue that resonated with her. Maybe even a recalled scene of something they once did. Whether it grieved her, made her smile, or anything in between. This is what “life lessons” truly felt like. Kara seemed puzzled, deep in her own thoughts, piecing together what Frequency had meant. And when she remembered that voice…she clung onto a branch of understanding, and put her coffee on the table, staring at the orange Nimbat. “I think I’ve used up all my yelling energy,” she humored, summoning a tiny half-smile on the left side of her face. “But…maybe it’d do me a little good. Just to let loose on what happened. I think he’d say it’d be a good idea.”
“Who’s he?” Frequency asked, canting her head to the side.
“Hm? Oh, I’ll tell you later… Also, please, please don’t ever do that to someone. Approach carefully, passively, or not at all. Talk to them when they seem like they’re able to think a bit better. You came off like…a bitch. I’m serious.”
“Aaah… Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I panicked a bit. Hugs?”
Kara snorted, and carefully drew an arm around the other, tugging her in close and sharing just a moment of warmth between the two. “So, yesterday was just abhorrent. I went to the tailor, and…”
—
It seemed like every time an old love ended and a new one began, my friends would tell me, “You seem so much happier now.” And I’d smile and agree, and I’d keep like that all the way to my little home. Once the door closed, I’d…say your name. Just to feel it on my lips again. It’s like summoning a ghost.
We met in unspoken agreement, at the fields.You followed me home, rambling about the one who’d wounded you, back where you came from. To alleviate you, I told the tales about the one that wounded me. And we’d play them out in a little challenge, to see just how much better we could be than them. How much easier it was to just be kind, and sensible. I cooked you all the meals I never got to share. Told all the jokes. Laughed all the laughs. As a performance, a practice, something to whisk ourselves away from what hurt the both of us. Then one day, you called me by my name, and we were never able to look back.
Sometimes, there’s a dream I have of you. You in your healthiest form, strong and able, just like how I’d met you. And I am there in mine. I stand on the sandy shore. You stand in the sea. I watch as the waves roll in toward us, but not once do they break against your back. They mutter right through you, and you fade away from me. Again.
I don’t just have your gift. I have your glove, too. Just the one. It’s the only other thing I have left of you. In quiet moments, I lay it on my lap, lace my little fingers through yours, and talk.
When you came to me in that feeble state, I didn’t hesitate to sacrifice. I sold my time and my energy. I sold my preferences and wants. I sold my arms and my legs to buy you an arm and a leg. I sold my lungs, my bones, my heart…to buy you everything that’d keep you here, and put you back together. Even if it meant you wouldn’t be in the body I’d met you in. But…after a time, you weren’t you. Not anymore.
Your beautiful body was cradling a broken mind, and it betrayed you. You barely knew who you were, after a time. And you certainly didn’t know me. When I’d visit you, I’d tear my soul apart willingly, to make sure you had some passenger in your suffering. When I’d told you goodbye, you didn’t remember how to speak.
These days I work the fields, rarely refusing to don myself in your gift to me. I don’t know how to keep your memory going—I don’t think I can try. Some days I see a new one come to the Colony with high, possibly selfish hopes. Somehow, though, they find their way to me. And I’d give them the same kindness I gave you, in hopes that they’ll go on to make someone happy to remember them. I’d like to be remembered that way, too.
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