Journal entry III, Countdown and Reunion

           Sitting on the edge of the bridge, Palae lit a cigarrette with his fingers. The plant they smoked in the town made him feel dizzy and calm, but had an odour wich stuck to clothes for a very long time. He craved to be back at the Consonance gardens, where he could make use of herbs with less residual smell and effects more to his liking.
           "Are you going to do it?" His voice was thin from holding the smoke in.
            "I thought you were supposed to stop me from doing this in some sort of way. Like, if you came up from nowhere and know me as you do, isn't it logical to conclude that you're a guardian angel of sorts?"
           The small man's feet dangled from the edge, waving hello to the quiet waters two hundred metes below. Palae exhaled the smoke and looked at his knees for a while.
           "You should stop letting your imagination distort reality to such a point, my friend. I came to this very parapet in which we lie seated just as you did, walking through this chaotic city. You see, that is one of the reasons you ended up in such a situation. I reckon you want to do it, do you not? Wouldn't I be doing the right thing by helping you feel safe about your choice?" The wind was blowing in a strange way. From time to time, it would stop abruptly for a heartbeat, just to start blowing afterwards much like it was doing before.
           Now isn't that strange. It sounds exactly like Silune's rhythm from last night.
           The man kept still and quiet, looking down at his feet waving down at the water. The stench of the smoke was somewhat dispersed by the wind, but nevertheless intoxicated Palae's nostrils. He spat towards the bridge and put out the cigarrette, storing it in a small metal box produced from the pocket of his coat.
            "Wouldn't want to pollute the river with this crap. Tch, as if it weren't dead already, much as you are, eh Severine? Isn't that right?"
            Silence. From the long, black coat, Palae fetched a tiny flute from one other pocket. Albeit sunny, the day was really cold from the wind blowing. The man tied his hair in a ponytail so that it wouldn't get in the way when the tune was being played. Even with his golden hair tied up, his slender features and delicate face made him look androgyne even to those with a most keen sense for examining people. It was thus not surprising that Severine couldn't help thinking he was some sort of supernatural being, put there to help him but somehow determined not to do so. Gaily, Palae began trying to place notes into Silune's rhythm, creating a merry tune much like those we imagine are played when a large group of friends drink and dance by a big fire, letting life burn at its brightest in a moment of love and merriment.
            "Help me do it. Can you?" Severine wouldn't even look up. His voice was so low he wasn't sure the being who sat by his side heard it, since he kept playing his merry tune. "Are you going to help me or not? I'll do it! I know you want me to do it! Everyone does! You think I'm doing this all on my account? Well, I know better, you fawn-like motherfucker! I KNOW BETTER!"
         Funny how Silune's tunes always sound better when you find a minor scale which fits inbetween the major harmony. Meh, maybe that's just me though. I wonder if Gorlair is going to take much longer...
              "Help me. Please."
              "You don't want to help yourself, friend. If you had changed that it would have all been different. There is no Deus ex machina, you know. Especially when you expect there to be one, such as you do even now."
              "This is it, then. I'll do it."
              "You can still change your mind."
              "I know what goes in my head better than you ever will. Better than everyone ever did."
              Palae went back to playing, now with a complete and clear melody line going over and over. Played in such a fashion, the ending seemed to prepare for the initial section, creating a tandem of notes that repeated themselves every five heartbeats. On the instant right after the third heartbeat, though, there was silence.
               One
               Severine was frozen in place, all his muscles tense.
               Two
               Inside his head, thoughts ran at a stunning speed, creating a state of confusion from which his anguish fed on until it became overwhelming, heart-crushing. The pain was too much to bear. He pushed his arms against the surface on which he lay, getting ready to jump. To end it.
               Three
               A purple flash and a cracking sound, much like the one that precedes those really loud thunder.
               Ah, such timing! A pity she'll see this though... But yeah, I was missing some chords anyway.
               A moment of stillness, and then the parapet underneath Severine became blurry. Should one try to focus on it, he would become very confused unless such a one was Silune (as indeed it was). As if it ceased to exist, the concrete let Severine slip through, on his way to meet his so desired rest.
                Four
                A bright chord, very suspended (and oh, did Palae have to concentrate not to laugh at that), painted a view behind the lone note being maintained by the flute player. And then, while Severine's energy was transformed and given back to the universe, a quick preparation chord just before
                 Five
                 The final, quiet chord. Merry for the reunion, but subtle as not to dishonor the memory of the small man who was now no more. Chanter and Disruptor looked at each other, drinking such beauty as they saw through their eyes.
                  "Silune"
                  "Palae"
                  "Take us out of here, dear and metronomic Gorlair"
                   "So I shall, Dissonant Palae."
                   Purple flash. In an instant, only the sound of cars driving by was heard. In another, the people who stopped to gaze at the event remembered of their appointments, and hastily returned to their cars.

             
                     

Journal entry IV, Crescent moon

             Walking by the cobbled street, Gorlair tucked a hand inside a pocket in his coat and pulled out a golden pocket watch. Under the faint moonlight, the gold had a dull shine which made it look blotted out, pale in color; the leaves styled on the contraption's spherical surface looked like real leaves preserved for millenia, their serrated edges making them become even further a semblance of a clump of leaves from days when no ghan walked the street. 

             No ghan. Is that ever going to come true once again? 

             Air heaved out of his lungs. 

             Hard to breathe. Heavy air. With the morrow comes rain. The girl should be here.

              The stones inside the watch glimmered purple. In the gloom of the street, under the now vacant merchant cots, the walls on which the rags overhead were attached to acquired a purple glaze beside the immobile figure beside it. His dark skirt might as well have been taken for a deep shadow emerging from the base of the wall, swallowing the cobbles and Gorlair's legs, making the man look like a wraith. Thick eyebrows got closer as he frowned; the sixth stone clockwise went out. Gorlair was about to sit down when he heard a distinct diminished chord sound through the air. Metallic timbre. Plucked strings. 
             She's here. 

             The man tucked the watch while striding over the corner; an alley encompassed not just by the wall to his left, but also by tall trees from the square across was just as dark as the street from which he had just come, but for a frail candlelight a some yards ahead. He walked up towards the light and the kuhte player beside it. 
             -- Silune,
             Diminished chord once again. The melody was left hanging, almost palpable.
             Probably palpable.
              -- Gorlair! It's so nice to see you! You better have a good reason for interrupting my music though, old timer. I was having such a nice, mellow time... oh well, it's gone for good now anyway. Spit it!
             The woman looked like a doll, with that stark white countenance as a backdrop for the big eyes staring right at the old figure. For a moment he enjoyed the mesmerizing sensation of being stared at by the seventh Chanter. 
              Heh, not much of a chanter proper, this one.
             -- We need help. A Chant. Harmony is frailing.
             -- I have noticed! I was wondering when would you summon us... Did you take a look at those tress? Watch!
             Under the feeble candlelight, there was not much to be seen. One could hardly discern leaves from branches... but what would be taken for leaves did become exceedingly hazy on random intervals.
             -- Not random. Five by four bars. Off beat of the third one. You count it.
             -- What? You mean it's not smoke nor mist?
             Well, Silune did enjoy her time bursting out a good laugh.
             -- Come on, o elder one! You do not assume I am that stupid, right? By the gods! I would have looked after it even if I did cope with getting lectured by you guys... Oh well, I suppose I won't be getting any more creative for the night, anyway. Let's go.
             Major chord. Major seventh and added ninth. Once again, the notes hung. In one motion, the woman stood and tossed the kuhte in the air ahead of her. It hung in the air, much like the notes. As she walked after the old man, who departed in a brooding mood, the instrument trailed after them. 
             Gorlair stopped once under the cots, silent. The Chanter tapped her left foot merrily while awaiting for... whatever it was the Harmonizer was about this time. She didn't care. She had found out an interesting rhythmic pattern on the trees, regardles of it being disruptive to reality itself. The old timer jerked suddenly, startled.
             Heck. Wrong pocket.
             In a purple flash, the couple and the wooden instrument disappeared, the only trace of their earlier presence a dying chord, merry as the seventh Chanter's attitude.