Between Chantale and Eliska, Chantale was the tallest. Even taller than Joseph. Standing seven feet, she often wore her hair up, making herself even taller. Now her hair was down, her dreds spilling over either side of her bare shoulders.
This didn't surprise Joseph. What did was that her long arms were wrapped around her, cradling the sheet she was using to cover herself. When he looked into her face, her chin was nearly touching her collarbone. Her lips were curving upward, and her eyes, not lowered, were aiming at his.
Was he wrong? Had she been the one who took his shirt?
"So you were waiting for me in here?" he asked. "To
surprise me? You tricked me." Having put the bottle away in his pants pocket, he pulled it out and showed it to her.
Her lips dropped slightly as her eyes targeted the bottle.
"Or was I mistaken?" he asked.
Her eyes never leaving the bottle, she answered, "Was not I who received ya shirt."
"Then how did I get here?" he asked. "Who did I exchange with?" He didn't rule out Eliska yet, but again, his thoughts went back to the expression of the younger one on the bank.
Her eyes still on the bottle, Chantale answered, "Da
exchange can still be made."
His arm wasn't extended all the way, but he retracted it, putting the bottle near the right side of his face. "But I'm already here."
Her eyes had followed the bottle, her lips parting in a wordless gasp. Her brow furrowed, and she locked eyes with him.
He squinted at her response, "Why are you hiding from the others? And where is Eliska? You both knew I was coming back and what I was bringing. When I arrived, I saw no one. Not at first, but I knew everyone couldn't have relocated. Not so soon, and not without telling me."
He lowered the bottle to rest his arm at his side. Chantale's eyes darted over to watch it for those few seconds. Then she locked eyes with him again.
"I had spoken with Eliska not even a week ago." He continued, though he knew he was referring to the passage of time in the physical world, but that shouldn't have mattered.
"Why you tink dey relocate?" Chantale asked.
With his other hand still holding the flower, he raised it to indicate a point behind him, "Do I know who that stronghold
belongs to?"
Her lips shrank inward, and her eyes widened. If he hadn't
have known her all these years, he would have thought she was suddenly threatening him. Lowering his hand, he rested it at his side like the other and waited for her response.
He didn't have to wait long. Her expression sharpened further, though her lips were stretched into a grin.
"You have heard of him." She said.
He waited.
"And as for Eliska," she continued, "she wid him now."
Joseph scowled, "Who?"
Tightening her grips upon the sheet covering her, she whispered "Calarapan."
His face dropped slightly, but he wouldn't let her see all of his reaction. Instead, he asked, "Why? Why him? Why is he….?" He relaxed his shoulders, "Why is Eliska with him?"
Her eyes went to the bottle at his side. He averted his focus from her a moment to consider the contents kept inside.
"It tis not dat." She said, her grin returning.
Knowing her all this time, he had grown used to Chantale's features, but he was reminded of the colors of her eyes. Maybe it was because of the shadows of the room. There was no outside light. So her teeth glowed when she spoke, and her eyes blazed their golden irises. Her pupils were black like his, but the rest of her eyes glowed a soft almost turquois.
"No," she continued, "Tis some ting else."
Pondering, Joseph started to ask, "You mean…?"
Tilting her head, she asked, "What she always ask for?" She tilted her head the other way, "And if you can not find it, she offer utter ting."
Casting his eyes aside, he ran through previous conversations. His search wasn't long.
"Wait." He said, meeting her gaze again, "You don't mean…?"
"I do." She said.
"But it's an impossible request." He shot back. "Because it can't be found in the physical world. Only here. She always said it as a joke!"
Chantale's eyebrows went up and she lowered her chin, "You tink joke?"
"Yes." He answered. "Because she was quick to brush it aside and request something I could get."
She shot her head upward to look down her nose at him, "But Calarapan get it."
He watched her expression, wondering if she really saw him the way she was gesturing. Knowing what he had been doing all this time, knowing his time here in this place was going to be limited…
"Was that enough?" he asked, finally.
"Enough?" she questioned.
He was about to claim betrayal, but then he stopped himself. Remembering the timing of everything: the conversation with Eliska a week ago, the mound of flowers on the lawn…the tower had to have only just arrived.
But then his jaw dropped at a sudden revelation. Lifting his gaze back to Chantale, seeing her smirking now, he said, "Did she…?" He gathered himself, "That's how he was able to establish a foothold. Eliska…"
"Do you know, Joseph," Chantale began, "why she call it da flail of chimes?"
"Because of its shape." Joseph answered. "I've only seen it once, but I remember it. Only because she kept bringing it up."
"What it shape like?" she asked.
Thinking back, he answered, "Like a fan of sorts."
"Aye," she said, "and what else?"
Shaking his head, losing patience, he answered, "A fan…with little pods that eventually opened when…"
"And when day open?" Chantale asked, "What day do?"
Sighing, he answered, "If you shook them, they twinkled or rang like little bells….or chimes."
"You know dey real name?" Chantale asked.
Giving her a sideways glance, he asked, "Their real name? She always referred to them as…"
"Dey real name is Chimes of Summer." Chantale said.
He shrugged, "Okay. I didn't know, but…"
"But she call dem flail."
Again, he shrugged, "Because of the fan shape."
"Not fan." She said, grinning.
He scoffed, "Will you just tell me…?"
The space to the right of Chantale sprouted with light, spreading vertically. Joseph was drawn to it, not alerted. Much like the cloud of his own ideas still pinwheeling over his head, this was something Chantale was doing.
She watched him as the body of light reached a desired size. Like a border, colors flashed and shaped themselves inside.
Blurred at first. Nothing to grasp, but this was because the shapes that were already offered were out of focus. Now just splotches upon a canvas, time reversed, and they shrank inward.
The dominant color was green. The first thing that came to mind was the mountain side behind the village. He was right, because he recognized the special dip at the top. Other colors rushed outward along the green, and the dip was moving to the center of the light. As it dropped, it expanded, exposing two extra colors. They were positioned at the very bottom of the dip.
By now, the reverse of time had reached clarity. Joseph didn't care about the view of the mountain or the setting sun beyond. He was seeing Eliska.
And one other.
"She not have to ask." Chantale spoke, but didn't break the spell of the depiction. "He knew and offer her."
This wasn't fair, Joseph thought. He felt his energy leave him as he watched Eliska. Any other time, and he would not have felt this loss. He wished this wasn't the first time he was seeing her naked form, but there she was: her caramel skin glistening with sweat which flew from her body as she wiggled about.
She was facing to the right, so he was getting her profile, but she was stretched so that she stood upon the tips of her toes. Her arms were raised above her head, her wrists together as though bound by rope. Yet, he saw nothing there.
It was Calarapan's doing. His will, and perhaps her consent.
Calarapan was behind her, his left hand raised and aiming toward Eliska's wrists. His fingers were relaxed, but in them was power holding her in place.
Yet she danced when he struck her.
Joseph watched Calarapan rear back his right hand. In his grasp was a bundle of the flail of chimes.
"He offer," Chantale spoke, "and she desire. So…"
Calarapan swung his hand around for another strike. The feathery stalks bent in the wind, and when Calarapan reached the end of his motion, the paper-like husks along those stalks brushed Eliska's rear. The chimes sounded, and she straightened her legs, twisting her hips, throwing her head back so that her long straight hair dropped down along her back, and she laughed.
Her breasts bounced in rhythm to the chord of notes, and Joseph's heart broke.
"…he gave her what she want." Chantale finished.
It was more than that, Joseph thought. As Calarapan brought his arm back, the vision Chantale displayed might have fooled him into thinking it was all happening in slow motion. But no, Calarapan wasn't trying to hurt Eliska. It didn't matter if Calarapan tried to swing with force. The feathery stalks and the paper-like husks wouldn't hurt even the fair skin of a child.
This was about the sound of the chimes. Eliska had shown him once, holding a bundle just as Calarapan did in this vision. Then she snapped her wrist, allowing her elbow to move only so slightly. The husks were thrown outward, but it was when they came back against their feathery stalks that they rang out.
He understood all too late why the plant's real name was Chimes of Summer. When he first heard their sound, he couldn't stop the cozy warmth that had been coaxed to flow throughout his body. The elements of the spirit world were so much more potent than the physical, so back then he allowed himself to be intoxicated by the plant's effects.
As Eliska danced under the pulses of magical warmth, Calarapan's expression was blank. Even while gazing upon her beautiful body, he remained clothed. His expression wasn't entirely blank. Joseph saw his grin, but Calarapan's thoughts were elsewhere.
Joseph looked away, not surprised to see Chantale staring at him still. How could she grin now? Unless….
He looked her up and down, wondering if that sheet was all she had to cover herself.
"You didn't prize the chimes as Eliska did," he said, "but did you indulge? Did he get to you, too?"
The colors in the vision beside her blurred out of focus. As the shapes spilled outward, overlapping each other, the borders began shrinking. For the first time in this conversation, Chantale casted her eyes down. Her long eyelashes brushed the tops of her cheeks, but she was still
grinning. Tilting her head further down, he saw this wasn't an expression of shyness. She was considering the sheet covering her.
Her hands loosened, but her arms remained in place. Her head still tilted downward, she rolled her eyes up at him, "Shall we find out?"
Joseph's face darkened as she twisted about. From the point on her chest, the sheet fell down her sides to expose her back. As he feared, she wore no kind of top, but the way the sheet was wrapped around her, it dipped down just below her lower back. From that point, it curtained all the way down, hiding her feet among the excess folds on the floor.
With her back to him, Chantale lifted her left hand, which held the sheet over her chest. The cloth fell, but because she was
turned, her bare breasts were hidden from him. Knowing this, she reached back with her left hand and cupped the side of her hair. Sweeping it from her back and shoulders, she moved her dreds to fall along the right side of her face as
she turned her head. This caused her dreds to cover her breasts as she gazed at him with one eye.
Already, the dip of the sheet had dropped further, exposing the top portion of her rear. Joseph knew there would be nothing to see. Calarapan's action would leave no marks. She was doing this just to be cruel. Surely she knew that, despite never saying or eluding to it, he had desired to see them both naked. He was a man, after all. And because they were denizens of this place, they were elements too, which made their appearances all the more potent.
But he didn't want it like this.
Watching him with her one eye, she loosened her hold on the sheet with her other arm. The dip fell down along the curves of either cheek. Just before it reached her thighs, Joseph scoffed and turned away.
"Just stop." He said, feeling his heart racing. No doubt she knew, but she didn't laugh at him. She just stood there, her rear exposed, her arm back in place, preventing the sheet from falling any further.
"So now what?" Joseph asked, still looking away. "Are the ties between us severed?"
"Look upon me, Joseph." Chantale said.
He gritted his teeth, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Look, Joseph." She insisted.
It was in her tone. He heard something that took some of the tension from his face. There was no mischief there. No sweetness. Justan insistence. Maybe even a soberness.
He didn't face her right away. He wanted her to see the anguish he felt. Hopefully there was still a part of her that cared enough.
In that silence, she didn't coax him further. There was merely the wait. Because of the depth of their relationship, Joseph needed her to wait on him.
When he finally did look upon her, he figured she knew he was satisfying a part of him being a male, but more than that, he had to show that there was still trust on his end. So he looked into her one eye that was still targeting him first.
"Do you see?" she asked.
Tightening his lips, he breathed out through his nose, and dropped his gaze. The elements of this place were potent. So what if the stalks of the Chimes of Summer were like feathers and the husks were as thin and light as paper? Plans were plans. Intent was intent. Action was action. Covenants were seen as sturdy monuments, and promises were sign posts.
The dark skin of Chantale's rear was as smooth as his fantasies described them as. The perfection there was almost laughable if not for the power that stirred his loins.
"Now ya see why I bare myself." She said. "No lie. No blemish."
His heart began to race for another reason, but still, he asked, "Then why?"
He didn't have to say anymore. She knew the full extent of his question.
"Why you tink?" she whispered.
He had to drop his gaze. If he didn't, her voice alone would tip him over the edge. In order to pull himself back, he focused on the negative. His head still lowered, his brow furrowed as he asked, "Were you waiting on something like this?"
She twisted enough so that she could look at him with both eyes. He didn't look up, but in his peripheral, he could see her hand dropping at her side, releasing her dreds to fall back along her right shoulder. Her left shoulder, which was pointed at him now, was still bare.
"Games?" she scoffed.
He lifted his gaze. Instantly, his scowl went away. Some of her dreds were still spilling down the front of her body, but not
enough to cover her breasts. Her charcoal-colored nipples stood erect, anchoring a few of her dreds in place. One of them was falling down her face, resting against the side of her nose.
She was glaring at him, and it was certainly not because he was getting an eyeful. She had a weird way about her, he knew, but women were perfectly capable of letting a man know when their feelings were hurt.