Part 3: The Blooming of the Dragonbells

Prologue

"But you don't understand what I'm saying."

You could tell that her patience was running thin, but she said nothing. It was like she was just letting you run your mouth. Maybe she was just waiting for you to run out of energy and just give up. It didn't matter though, you were intent on trying to make her understand what it was that she was asking of you.

"It... it just doesn't... just doesn't make sense!" You stammered for words again, trying to find ones to expression this situation. You had stumbled for a second, but just like that the thoughts seemed to focus and the words spilled out. "It's just a big jumble! A big mess of thoughts and words! The occasional glimpse of a vision! Smells and sounds from everywhere! What am I supposed to do with this?"

She continued to just stare at you. Her fingers folded carefully in front of her chin. Still she said nothing, an irritating, grating sort of nothing. Her face's expression never changed, it just regarded you with that same cold steel look.

Maybe you still weren't explaining yourself properly, but you couldn't figure out what a proper way to explain it was. It all started as a routine enough assignment. You picked up the assigned memory stones, carried them back to your writing room, and sat down to reflect on them. It hit you like an ice cold shower the moment you picked up the stones. A deluge of feelings, thoughts, and sensations, one long moment of movement, like an explosion, then nothing.

"Are you done?" She finally asked, her voice just as even as it ever was.

You nodded slowly, suddenly feeling a bit foolish and childish for this outburst. You knew you were about to be reprimanded before she even spoke.

"Good." She replied, uncrossing her fingers. "Honestly, do you need me to explain your assignments to you? We hired you as a scribe."

Her voice was still even, as normal a tone as anyone would use if discussing the weather or relating what they had eaten for breakfast this morning. But there was an edge to her voice, an edge that frightened you.

"As a scribe it is your duty to take what readers would not understand," She took a breath, letting your mind dwell on her last word. "And write it in a way that they will understand."

Her eyes fixed on you now, holding your gaze tightly. "If all we needed was someone to make copies, we could have hired a dozen drones with your salary. You have a mind, use it."

Her verbal slap would have stung, but your mind had already fixated elsewhere. A thought snapped into place when you heard her words, a way to write this presented itself, a way that hadn't occurred to you before.

"You're absolutely right!" You exclaimed, the sudden influx of momentum jumping you to your feet. "I apologize for disturbing you. I'll have a draft for you by this evening."

She raised her eyebrows, a look of honest surprise actually breaking her normally emotionless expression. Having this effect on her only added more fuel to your growing enthusiasm.

You felt the need to bolt immediately out of the room, but restrained yourself long enough to give her a slight bow, "If you'll excuse me, I have my work to do."

"Of course." She waved her hands in a shooing fashion, as if she was trying to push you out of her office before you exploded.

You were out of the office and barreling down the hallway within seconds. She had given the answer on how to accomplish what seemed like an impossible feat and you were pretty sure that she didn't even realize what she had said. Intention carried you through the hallways with little of the surroundings even registering. Your mind turned inwards, already writing the story in your head, unraveling the complicated strands slowly.

The Blooming Of The Dragonbells

"Delight-release-happiness-rapture!"

The speck floated well above the garden. It looked like a dark rain cloud in miniature. An anomaly, a single cloud floating across the enclosed air of the garden. Much to close to the ground to be real. Much too small to be of any consequence.

Her sweat soaked skin glided effortlessly along someone else's back. She didn't know whose back it was. She didn't care to look. It didn't matter. Her fingertips found the flesh of someone else. Soft, warm, and yielding. Her fingers left trails of someone else's nectar across this other body. Her mouth found lips and locked to them for a brief, joyous kiss. Then she glided away, her skin touching another now.