Master Lho-Dah warned that this would happen; that my soul is fire and drawn to same. "Balance, Aishouka. Feet on earth, body in the waves, mind in the wind. Let fire tend to itself." Fire Is, he said. Fire needs no encouragement once it's started. Balance, Aishouka. Fire needs to be contained.
I continue the rituals. This week, I've been crawling right back into bed afterwards, but ... I've continued the rituals. Next week, I will go back to making Finndo his morning coffee. That will keep me from crawling back into bed, but it likely won't keep me from the rituals. After last night, I have a feeling that I'm genuinely going to need them.
Master Rho-Mah would mock me. Stifled girl! Starting a fire in one's soul is more difficult than turning one's blood to water. He would say (again) that I am A Most Fortunate Child, for Fire Is. Fire is Savage and Beautiful. Fire Does and Does Not Weep.
However, Fire has gotten comfortable with the idea of walking without leaving footprints, flying without wings, cartwheeling across the surface of a pond -- and, yes, having peace of mind, lightness of spirit, and sleeping the sleep of the innocent.
For a while now, Aishouka hasn't had to step outside all of her new-found harmony and bliss and think about what's over the horizon. It sure as shit ain't just the sun.
The memory came back last night. I was sitting at dinner with Sybil and Finndo and one of them -- I forget who -- mentioned his name, and the word just sat there in the back of my brain like a bit of sharp food caught between two sensitive teeth. The word, the name, Ghenesh. I hadn't thought about it in at least three years. Closer to four, maybe. Not since Tsuchu-Rei-Mei taught me how to put together a custom 'bot for the Silky Drome.
I made Him. Him-As-I-Saw (and See?) Him, but Him nonetheless.
I never took him to the Drome. Never took him from my room. Didn't even touch him. Couldn't, even though I could. Couldn't, even though he was just light and sensorelles and algorithms based on my dumb ideas -- all I could do is look at him like some ignorant terrified fuck. He was so beautiful. It had just been a stupid joke. Just me trying to see if I could exorcise some old demons with a virtual ghost.
I never did figure out how to give him a voice. I should have given him a voice. Something high and squeaky. Something that would have made me laugh. Something that would have disgusted Tsuchu. If he'd been a squeaker, she might not have been tempted to steal his disc and take him to the Drome.
She would have then lived to see her seventeenth birthday. Shame, really. I liked her. Didn't doubt for a damned minute that she didn't belong to Finndo, but I liked her.
I destroyed the disc. I signed up for the Masters' classes in Energy Channeling and Applied Denial. I became Ninja First Class Super Number One OK.
In retrospect, if Finndo had let me screw Selm, I might not have had the level of frustration necessary to ... funny. If things had gone differently in Homewood that night, I might never have become the closest thing Sybil has to a real sister. I might not have been inclined -- or able -- to go off and become Ninja First Class Super Number One OK.
Cunning bastard. It'll be a pleasure working for him.