Chapter #13; Odin’s Outlook
1660 Words
Odin...
He looked around the gray nothingness. Looking at his feet he realised he was walking on thin air.
Half-point.
His facial features scrunched up as he started ranting furiously into the abyss.
“What do you want you insolicited freak?”
An ominous, haunting crackle sent chills down his spine, making his hands curl into fists as a bead of cold sweat built up on his forehead.
“Oh...nothing. It’s just that the next boen’s been finalised.”
He stared daggers into the gloom.
“Whoever’s next is at least going to be better than you were. Now, tell me how you got a sipheron.”
Odin waved his tight fist in the air like a baton.
“Jeesh, no need to yell your b****y socks off. I just... found it.”
He tried to control his palpitating pulse.
“Whe... where did you find it?”
A satisfied sigh filled the air as the explanation played.
“Tell me, who’s the only one with access to sipherons?”
“Natheren...”
“And other than whom everyone calls a disgrace, who’s the only natheren here?”
He swallowed the cold, dry air.
“You stole from a literal child?”
He inquired, incredulous.
“Who else would I get it from?”
Breathing a deep, heavy sigh, he turned his back on the voice.
“I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
He closed his eyes tight as the ground he was standing upon raised to a platform.
The voice questioned him, terrified.
“Wha—what in the realms are you doing?”
He gave the abyss a slightly unhinged smirk.
“Getting out of here that’s what.”
The skinny fingers brushed against the imaginary robe as Odin jumped off the platform.
.
.
.
He woke up in a static shock, his heartbeat being loud as a concert, the dark clothing even darker from the sweat. The pillow muffled the loud, distorted groaning.
Ei tämä pirun pentu taas.
He scrambled onto his feet, limbs still numb from all the adrenaline. He stumbled to in front of the mirror, stretching the finger on his right hand, being partially immobile. It sent a tingling pang every time, steadily growing more bearable each moment. Pondering over the fading white cast, the pile of clothes flowing from behind the door caught his attention.
...
“Not planning to leave your room today?”
There was a hint of cunning in the tone of the inquisition.
“Why?”
Giving her an incredulous askance, he sleuthed where this was going.
She gave him a slight cold, hard grin, gesturing her head towards his apparel.
“Red shirt, black cargo pants and you finally touched the glasses.”
He mumbled something angrily under his breath.
“What?”
“They’re just blue-light.”
The red-hot fumes from the clarification of the statement put Dolores off. The widening grin instantly faded.
She examined the state of his arm, the leering persisting.
“That’s new.”
He squinted his eyes gently as he tilted his head to a certain angle. He turned his back on her as he silently strolled back to his room.
He slammed the door behind him, nonchalantly flinging his glasses onto the wall, causing miniature cracks to form in the plastic framing. A few scratches formed on the outside edges of the lens. Leaning against the door, he crumpled onto the ground.
He very pathetically crawled to the little table, grabbed the pouch of onyx and struggled to compress one in his left hand.
.
.
.
He pressed on his knee, propelling himself up.
“It’s Hades himself, here to send me back into the timeout corner.”
Materializing around Odin, an ominous smile formed as the boy surveyed the footing beneath him.
“Oh, what do we have here? Looks like the emo’s going soft.”
He could feel himself melt into a slur as the beanstalk stared down at him.
“No one’s aware of my return, are they?”
The violet pearls fixed onto the man with a beard but no hair.
“Send the new girl my regards.”
The British voice became eerily casual.
He fixed his gaze as large beads of sweat formed in the stale air, pretending hard to know what he was blabbering about.
“Oh, by the way, the new girl’s the twitch’s sister.”
He turned his back to Odin as he raised his scythe high, clearly over with the whole dilemma, wrapping it around the twig and dragging him to the edge of Kaputt.
He wailed in agony, stating how if he goes the sipheron goes with him.
Odin stared hard into the abomination’s eyes, snatching the opal sapphire he was displaying and sending him tumbling over the edge.
“Adawna!”
He flashed the jewel high, before setting it at the base of the cloud for her to fetch.
A sipheron allows a natheren to observe a different setting, to travel from the shadows from under lush, flamboyant trees and from behind old, hardy stone walls. They can also get in on the action from the light watermarks of reflective surfaces. This wondrous mode of transport, that works much like a book, was exclusive to natheren, both in Flourise and Kaputt.
Adawna would keep tabs on Leila. She did everything for her so now, as she believed it, it was her turn to keep an eye on her.
“Thank you mister white tiger!”
Her high, energetic voice faded as the golden yellow ring glowed around him.
.
.
.
As soon as he was back in his room he started rumbling through the mountain of clothes, pushing them aside and burying the glasses underneath the clothes.
Under the bright, hot sun many people were going crazy. He smoothed the wrinkles from the dark, hypnotizing royal blue full-sleeves tee with a snowy back, the colour bleeding into the indigo in swirls over the shoulder like ink bleeding on a paper.
He anxiously rushed out the door without making any eye contact with either of his sisters. Odin left the place in a silent rampage, not wanting to be anywhere near the challenges.
He roamed the streets of Nathirabad, the humid environment making the dusty concrete looking like a vivid hallucination. He didn’t know where to go or what to do; he was, in one word, aimless.
Wandering undirected, he strolled around dark corners being exposed to the sun, the jagged pathways bestrewn with bright smithereens of polyethylene and the bold advertisements for obscure solutions plastered onto lamp posts. He passed by every nook and cranny of his block.
Passing by a series of apartment complexes (complexi?) he heard someone playing the flute very... aggressively. The air flow provided to the instrument was too hard and the gap between each note was inconsistent. The sea of pitches made every auditory annoyance tremble in their tracks.
He turned his head up to the source of the cacophony, his ivory complexion turning blood red under the sun.
The walls outside of the source room had a dark ashen colour.
Odin made his gradual ascent up the stairs, each note stretching time further and farther. His fist pounded with a light knock on the door before he heard the slide lock drag open. A drenched starry eye peered through a slight opening before the door swung wide open.
The corners of her frown were forcibly being pulled as he gave her a slight glare.
“I don’t suppose you heard that?”
The ersatz oblivion was followed soon by the peacock strands falling onto the dark discolouration.
“Can you help?”
The inquiry was accompanied by a soft, genuine smile.
Odin gave her the subtlest nod which made her perk up instantly.
He stood at the door while Leila fetched the pipe, who excitedly handed it over.
“Did you clean the mouthpiece?”
“uuh...”
“Clean the mouthpiece. If you’re going to snooze in class at least understand the fundamental precaution.”
“Okay Okay”
She wiped off the end with the piping of her rusted gold skirt. Her overall demeanour looked as if she never dressed out of a rough day.
Odin delicately held the flute with the tips of his fingers, the directory of the music being the lower part of his left shoulder. His left hand fingers glided gracefully over the cavity as a gentle, steady airflow passed through, while his right hand fingers tried their best to come close to matching the dexterity and fluidity.
He played a magnificent tune, the treble clef’s and half notes dancing in the air around. The calm river of the rhythm sent a cold wind blowing down one’s back.
Odin opened his eyes, inhaling deeply before wiping the mouthpiece on the thigh of his ebony jeans and tossing it back.
“And this is why you keep your ears attentive in class.”
He turned to leave as Leila shook her head to bring herself back to reality.
“Oh and about that boen position...”
The whites of her eyes spread faster than the epidemic, the undulations hopefully less lethal.
16th April 2021, Friday.
Leila;
HOW THE LITERAL BLADES DID HE FIND OUT? I told noone. Literally no none. Then how does he know? He comes by and plays this marvellous tune and then just drops the lexiconal fire. Also, he was wearing something other than the black hoodie with the lil ghost. Can he do that?
Odin;
I shouldn’t have asked her about the boen thing. She completely broke down. I stood there awkwardly as she hyperventilated, trying to hold back the tears. She RAPPED the details of the whole news flash. She stuttered alot cuz she couldn’t remember much though. Nice to see the quartz taking effect.
Note: Half-point is the point between flourise and kaputt.
- Writer
