Warning: Mentions of blood, injuries and pain in a slighlty explicit way , nothing outside of the fantasy-violence label
The tall mycolian looked at Mortigus slightly confused, as they raised one of their legs in mimicry. Mortigus grabbed it and shocked it firmly, performing a rather scuffed handshake.
“ We call these handshakes. My parents taught me to use them to signify agreements and sometimes salutes, but usually only the adults would do so.” explained Mortigus.
“ I see,” said Arbero, slightly puzzled. Upon making contact, a spark-like spine could be felt in each other’s limbs. Mortigus felt the static feeling crawling up to his head in a few milliseconds, almost overwhelming him in dizziness. Both stepped back a little, Mortigus staring at his hand, his fingers shaking slightly. Arbero stood stoic, while also observing their own leg, before revealing what happened:
“ I think… You have accidentally attempted to communicate through your hand. You probably can’t control your Essence very discreetly and were still pushing out a signal from before. You see, mycolians can communicate through physical touch. What a weird feeling though.”
“ Wait, communicate through touch? Like trying to talk to you through my hand? It felt incredibly bizarre” blurted out Mortigus, his hand still feeling like static.
“ Indeed, it did feel that way for me too. Mycolians can connect through direct touch way more intensely than through the mycelium in the ground, a powerful feeling is to be expected, but it did feel odd for me too. The lack of clarity, the noisy feedback, it may be a sign of…”, hesitated Arbero for a second. ” Unfortunately, you may be a <<balapa>> in this sense. Guess a body patched together by humans is prone to mistakes nonetheless.”
“ You said I’m a <balapa> ?” blurted Mortigus.
“ Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean any offence, I shouldn’t have meant it as a mistake. Though I doubt it was on purpose.”
“ I still don’t know what you mean.”
“ Ah, yeah, you couldn't have known what it meant. Let me touch you again, it will help me explain.” requested Arbero. Mortigus threw up his hand hesitantly as Arbero grabbed it gently, their second contact generating another spark, less powerful than the first. Arbero seemed to concentrate their stare at their handshake. Mortigus started hearing thuds in his mind, as if incomprehensible sounds were climbing on the side of his face between regions of his ears and eye. The longer he left his hand clung to Arbero’s, the more overbearing these sounds were, until he had to pull away from the discomfort.
“ As I assumed, you were feeling thuds and uncomfortable noises in your head, weren’t you?” Mortigus nodded in affirmation to Arbero’s assumption. “ You are unfortunately incapable of sharing or hearing complex thoughts through contact, a <balapa> in other words. There are a few people in our species that get born this way, as rare as it is. But that also means it’s not that bad.” concluded Arber, but an uneasy thought formed in the back of their mind. As Mortigus continued to stare at his hand and recollect himself after the experience, Arbero couldn't help but ponder one thing. As Arbero was able to connect to Mortigus’ body, even partially, they could better read his characteristics like his Essence, his organ placements, his immediate feelings of anxiety. But most peculiar was his age. That was not the Essence of a 30 year old Mycolian, at the very least double that age, yet it was improbable Mortigus knew it and lied on purpose. The body seemed old on its own, though it was hard to guess when and how the plague doctors got their hands on mycolian body parts.
"Other Mycolians you say", muttered Mortigus. " Are there other Mycolians in this forest?"
"There…aren't," gulped Arbero, their eyes shifting for a second to the ground, "not in this forest nor anywhere near it. And probably only a handful left on this side of the Wall."
"Oh, I see. So that also explains why I've never heard of creatures such as you from my parents, or other villagers for that matter. I think people wouldn't be able to oversee you on purpose. And you consider me one of you now? <Balapa> and all?"
Arbero's eyes widened drastically, as their body tensed up for a second. As they processed Mortigus' question, emotions rushed over them, making them mumble their words.
" I, of course…I do, Mortigus…I believe I've said it before…that I see you as a brethren, a fellow mycolian. <Balapa> and all."
" Then there is another Mycolian in this forest besides you, even if only for a week." said Mortigus giddily, pointing his index finger at himself, his mask-like face almost contorting into a faint smile.
Arbero goggled at the childlike, innocent gesture, letting out a few chuckles.
"Guess I'm not gonna be alone for a while." said Arbero, puffing slightly as they tilted their head.
After having Mortigus practise his connection to the underground mycelium a couple more times, as the sky, barely peeking through the mat greenery, had already turned scarlet for more than an hour. The two ended up heading back to the mushroom hut, arms handful of small fruits, nuts and leaves. Not something most would consider a feast, but Mortigus was not a picky eater, nor a gourmand. Both of them had been surviving in the woods for years, of course. They continued to chit-chat from the road to inside the house, Arbero sharing a bit of their knowledge of these woods, and even the history they shared with it. Upstairs, Arbero showed Mortigus his room again before offering him some privacy and quiet.
Mortigus took the opportunity to eat before his paranoia slowly clicked with subtle beats. He did put an uncharacteristically high amount of trust in his partnership with Arbero. It could be a devastatingly bad call to let his guard down. Arbero had greater strength, skill and knowledge than Mortigus. They didn't seem to lie about mycolians and Mortigus' artificial link to these beings, but without a full picture, the danger of manipulation was high. Yet again, Mortigus lacked context and understanding of his situation. "I won't sleep tonight, that's for sure, but should I exit the hut with my provisions and stay in an improvised shelter?" Mortigus began to mumble to himself. Suddenly, his eye widened in panic, as a thought blitzed in his head: "Arbero can surely sense this whole hut. Not only that, they could control it. I already fell into a potential trap, and so easily too. I never fucking learn." Mortigus's neck had teared superficially, as his blunt fingers tried to steep into it, his heavy breathing being stifled by the pressure on his throat. He got promptly out of the bed, grabbing what was easier to carry from the room, and peered into the hall of the first floor of the hut. His eye was met with darkness barely pierced by the moonlight through the textures of the hut and the occasional round windows. No sounds, and a weird feeling that radiated through all the walls: he could feel Arbero’s presence outside the hut. Mortigus walked downstairs, planning to scout the entrance. The moon timidly placed its spotlight a few metres away from the front of the hut, through the open doorway a figure could be seen standing in that moonlight. It was Arbero sitting on an improvised wood bench, their eyes looking away from the hut. Mortigus stood still, staring at Arbero and counting his options. Silently, he stepped lower and lower, down the stairs, testing Arbero's reaction and senses. The silence and stillness of the night world remained as Mortigus reached the bottom floor. Arbero stood the same, enamoured in thought, meaning he indeed had a chance to execute an escape right now. But Mortigus' heart beat like a slow drum, as he could see himself in the figure staring at the sky and the horizon. "One last test of trust." thought Mortigus. Stepping outside the hut with discrete movements, Mortigus was now outside, a few metres away from Arbero's back. Arbero, snapping out of a trance, turned around their neck and upper body in a relaxed manner.
"You are awake at this hour too, Mortigus. Is something the matter?" asked Arbero calmly.
Mortigus tried to cut his moment of hesitation short, answering with a slightly shrivelled voice:” No, nothing really…just a bit hard to fall asleep in another place after so long. What about you?”
Arbero exhaled a bit, closing their eyes briefly. “ There’s always something to think about and I suppose I find it hard to relax my mind for tonight.”
Mortigus felt a weird wave under his legs, his soles sensing something similar to before, a signal through the mycelium, most likely from Arbero. With this web under him, Mortigus felt trapped in this discussion, his presence possibly being monitored by the three-eyed mushroom.
“ Your visit is peculiar, Mortigus. After so many years after the Wish Wall appeared, it’s strange now of all times the Plague Doctors found and used a Mycolian body for experiments. I will not doubt too harshly your intentions, but I still question what decisions have led to this situation.”
“ Pure chance, perhaps? And the Wish Wall, you mentioned it again, right? I haven’t heard about it since I was a kid, what do you know ?”.
“ I can’t say I know very much, it's embarrassing, after a thousand years to be honest. But that cursed structure is the reason me and a few others were separated from home, seemingly forever.” sighed Arbero. “ So long since then…”.
“ I can tell it's not easy for you to put your trust in me. It's definitely safer for you this way." said Arbero. "If there is a way I can gain your trust, I'd like to hear it. Nonetheless, you can remain here as long as you need, and if it feels more comfortable, I'll stay outside during the night."
" That's going a bit too far, I…" responded Mortigus, slightly stunned. "I thank you for your hospitality, but you are right: I feel unsafe putting my trust in you, or anyone to be frank. I don't know anymore what it means to naturally trust someone.”
“ I do not demand your trust. Boundaries and precautions are a normal reaction for anyone, especially someone in your situation.” insisted Arbero.
Mortigus tried to continue exposing his feelings, but any argument surfaced incoherently, his sentences making less and less sense. He gave up talking, pushing his head into his palm and squishing his forehead. It outright almost angered him the difficulty of expressing his emotions, while the fear of escalating this situation into Arbero snapping started to cross his mind again. He did it again, he rode the moment and opened himself, prone to getting manipulated again.
“Emotions must be hard to process, understandably so. You’re not just depraved of social interaction, but also have to wrestle with the clash of a human mind and a mycolian shell. I can …relate to some extent.” lamented Arbero, visibly uncomfortable seeing Mortigus’ distraught. “ I’ve mentioned Essence before, if you remember. I simplified it at the time, but Essence is the core of a mycolian’s experience. Essence is life, it is breath, it is exhale, everything the world gives us and we give to the world." Suddenly, the ground started glowing faintly in many colours, like an aurora borealis reflecting from the grass onto Arbero’s back and Mortigus’ face. Growing up to one’s knee, bioluminescent mushrooms tenderly pushed away some of the darkness in the area. Small particles danced in the air, as wind travelled through the carpet of glowing mushroom fruits. “ Essence is hard to control, just like one’s emotions, instincts and inner self. Let these flow through you, recognise you cannot ignore them or exist without them. They are part of you. Be distrustful when it is reasonable, be remorseful about the past. But do not let yourself be controlled, you are feeling them. It is your Essence and, in the end,” shining spores were floating upwards like aimless fireflies, “do not let yourself be paralysed by your own emotions. Essence flows in the direction you want it to. Understanding this aspect is essential for any mycolian.”
In the centre of the light show, Arbero kept their stare on the silent Mortigus, who seemed a bit in shock.
“Well, this night turned less dull I’d say,” chuckled Arbero softly, as they got up. Walking a bit closer to Mortigus, they asked:” My silly rant hopefully at least brought you out of your spiral of thoughts. I’ll remain outside tonight, and hopefully you can rest a bit in your room.”
Mortigus barely gave a half-assed “Yeah” before lowering his eye and backing up a bit. The glow of the mushroom, though weaker than before, felt very calming, and though he didn’t process it all, the Essence explanation brought him back to reality. After standing outside indecisively for another minute, he headed back inside carefully, now pressing his hand across the walls, feeling the pulse of the mushrooms forming the house. Life never seemed so vivid to him before. As he reached his room, his motivation to run away almost evaporated. His suspicions on Arbero grew a bit weaker, and his eye would remain open for tonight, but his heart wavered. “ It might be safe to remain there until Arbero finally showed true signs of aggression, but right now, this might be the only opportunity for me to understand my existence as a mycolian.” thought Mortigus.
In the morning, Mortigus walked down to the floor level, only to find the hut empty. Opening the door, he could see Arbero standing hunched over in the same spot as last night. Mortigus threw a greeting but received no response. Instead of waking them up, mortigus decided to quickly scout the area, to better familiarise with it. Nothing of notice could be found, the dense trees offered pretty good cover and the grass had signs of herbivores poking around. The forest was in a pristine condition, meaning humans probably haven’t ventured in these parts. Despite that, Mortigus preferred to be careful. The travellers in his old territory could nevertheless reach this area sometime. “Arbero was waiting outside the forest, actually. Far from discreet. And they were ready to face humans. Things aren’t adding up.” inferred Mortigus.
As he returned to the hut, a quick shock went to his feet. As he got closer to the hut, he could see Arbero heading towards him. Arbero started lightly berating Mortigus for leaving without saying a word, but shook it off and asked him to join him for meditation. Mortigus, though confused, accepted the offer. As weird as it was, he was reminded of his mother for a second. The two moved to a grass patch encircled by toadstools, where Arbero hinted with their tentacle that they should sit down. As Mortigus entered the circle, a bizarre feeling came over him. Suddenly, a cutting feeling erupted in his left hand. Only two fingers were attached, green blood seeping out of the remaining half of his hand, a slashing wound. Pain was dulled by shock, but now, he could truly feel fear.
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