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trans_92010-07-10 11:39 pm
bluebrassmonkey.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-07-10 11:39 pm
Entry tags:
Etched in Bone
Title: Etched in Bone
Location: Stacy; The City
His thoughts kept coming back on themselves -- the thought from not so long ago turning onto the second tattoo. In all honesty, something in him was torn, whispering that perhaps some distance might be required. Still, another part of himself screams against that. He'd felt it, made it and sworn it, his Bond.
Thus, Renne knelt in front of the scroll-designed building and prayed. He prayed, seeking guidance, strength and an end to his own insecurities.
In front of this building too holy to think of entering alone, Renne kneels. Slowly, painfully, meticulously, he literally etches a second tattoo onto and into himself. His first had been done the same way, in honour of someone dead then gone.
This one, he carves into his flesh to honour those that he's met so far.
And to honour he that brought Renne to salvation.
Location: Stacy; The City
His thoughts kept coming back on themselves -- the thought from not so long ago turning onto the second tattoo. In all honesty, something in him was torn, whispering that perhaps some distance might be required. Still, another part of himself screams against that. He'd felt it, made it and sworn it, his Bond.
Thus, Renne knelt in front of the scroll-designed building and prayed. He prayed, seeking guidance, strength and an end to his own insecurities.
In front of this building too holy to think of entering alone, Renne kneels. Slowly, painfully, meticulously, he literally etches a second tattoo onto and into himself. His first had been done the same way, in honour of someone dead then gone.
This one, he carves into his flesh to honour those that he's met so far.
And to honour he that brought Renne to salvation.
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He keeps his paw up and his voice tone soft, sure. He'd mostly managed physical and emotional ailments in the past but memories? It's relatively new.
New and worth a try if it rescues something so valuable to the Human from oblivion.
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"All right. Come in," Billy offers, slowly lifting his hand to the paw.
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Even now, with an intent in his mind, the honour of doing this never escapes him. The awe and reverence has never left him...
He stands at the 'doorway', breathing deeply as if to calm his nerves. He'd known precisely what he'd just asked to assist and yet the enormity of it still manages to take him for a loop.
His first 'words' are more to himself. A stern reminder, a determined promise.
"His, they are his. They are Holy and will not fade."
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He looks up and smiles. With Renne here, he feels safe and confident.
"Over here," Billy calls out, sitting near the center of this platform. "Should I show you what I can remember?"
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"Please? One not wish thee, lose what hold so well to who thee are."
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Billy walks over to the first red light and touches it, feeling a surge of strength pulse through him as he does so. He concentrates, trying to imagine the warm face this spirit presented to the outside world.
"This is Jason Lee Scott. He is one of the most giving and compassionate people I've ever met. He was my first friend as a child---I was often bullied due to my 'nerdiness', and Jason used his strength to protect me without expecting anything in return. From then on, we were unlikely friends. When we became Rangers, he was the Red Ranger and our leader. He was someone we could all follow and trust with our lives. It was he who began to teach me to become stronger and find balance in my life. He was patient as well---no matter how stunted my progress was, he never gave up on me."
Billy bowed his head, trying his best to absorb all that he could.
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Red. Jason. Jason. Jason.
The name comes out of his mouth like a mantra, a reverent mantra, quietly beseeching in a language that consists of one word.
"Ja-son. Ja-son. Ja-son. Ja-son."
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Billy lifts his head, slightly puzzled by this development. He thinks Renne is trying to touch what Billy carries of Jason somehow and commit that to memory, but he can't be certain.
He simply waits for his next cue.
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The words come out both spoken and unspoken as his fingers reverently brush that place. That concept, that time-being-place-thing-era-person-name. Before he can stop it, his voice speaks.
"Memory. Speak. Memory. Jason. Jason. Memory. Who? What? Speak."
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"Jason...I guess I'll start with what I remember of his appearance. He was slightly taller than I am, and always more muscular. His skin was tanner than mine, but still on the lighter end of the spectrum. He had neatly cropped hair---dark brown, close to black, and his eyes were...brown." That was correct, right? Well, it felt right.
"His voice was deeper than mine. It always sounded warm and encouraging when we were discussing things as friends, but on the battlefield he was a compelling leader with the loudest voice of all of us." That much he remembered well.
"He led by example. Every day after school, he taught martial arts classes, but the focus was on discipline and learning to get along with others. Actual fighting technique always came second to learning to use it well." A happy sigh. Yes, that's how he'd learned.
"And he never denied anyone in need of help. When my friend Tommy first recovered from being under an evil spell, he was the first to reach out and forgive him. Whenever anyone asked for help, he was always there and giving his best. With him around, we never lacked cohesion as a group. And I never lacked a friend to confide in and rely on for strength when I needed it."
Billy leaned close to the light, trying to preserve all those memories and lock them in.
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With the description, the words and colour-sensations flow around him, through him as if he's drinking all of this in. He is, in a way, still chanting the few words that slowly become, in his own mind, the Jason-Language.
"Ja-son. Red. Warm. Strong. Ja-son. Ja-son. Deep. Ja-son. Ja-son."
His hand moves as if of its own accord now; a finger tracing a seemingly unintelligible path on the red that is Jason. He's only aware of one thing: This is Jason. Jason will not be forgotten. Jason is here.
"Ja-son. Here. Ja-son. Touch. Ja-son. Speak. Ja-son. Live."
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For a fleeting moment, Billy can almost feel the warm hand on his shoulder as clearly as if they had never been apart. He feels comforted by a familiar presence that both is and isn't.
"Thanks Jase. Now...I guess I should start describing the others, huh?"
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Drums. Deep, percussive, thundering drums are his perception of Jason Language. Deep, rolling thunder-drums and Red.
Bowing, he backs away from the red that is Jason and nods quietly to Billy's voice.
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Then, he smiles and starts to touch the other lights. First, the older yellow and black ones.
"This is Trini Kwan. She was the first Yellow Ranger---a powerful martial artist, a kind mediator, and a best friend. She was my connection to the others at first. Whenever they didn't understand my words, she was always there to translate my complicated phrasing into a simpler speech pattern. But that wasn't all she did for me. We worked together in the laboratory, helping the other Rangers find solutions to the predicaments we fond ourselves in.
Like Jason, she was always patient with me, but she was very kind in a different way. Always understanding of my concerns and willing to spend time with me when the others were off on an adventure. She encouraged me to emerge from my social shell, but she never pushed my limits in a way that made me uncomfortable. When we were together, I felt that I was with the first person who truly and completely understood me.
She was tall---slightly shorter than myself, but thin enough to give the appearance of being taller. She had long, sleek black hair, kind dark eyes, and a smile that stretched her face. She always wore yellow with a quiet dignity that never called attention to itself. That was what made her special. Her voice was soft and soothing, almost reminding me of the sound of the ocean."
As he brushed his fingers over her light, he started to feel her presence there as well.
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His hand reverently touches the yellow that is Trini and his voice rings out in a low whisper. The Trini Language forms just as Jason Language had before and his patterns on the yellow differ from the red.
"Tri-ni. Tri-ni. Peace. Whisper. Tri-ni. Tri-ni. Here. Here."
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"Trini..."
After a moment of quiet respect for her, he guides them over to the black light next to hers.
"This is Zackary Taylor, though we usually called him Zack. He had a bright, happy voice and always greeted the world with a smile. Of all of us, he was perhaps the sunniest. He never walked anywhere that he could skip, and he never stood still when he could dance. When we felt discouraged, he always reminded us that we has so much to be thankful for."
Billy smiled, remembering a particularly innovative dance sequence. "That wasn't all he brought us, though. As the Black Ranger, he was one of our best warriors. He was an excellent tactician, and his plans to defeat the enemies in front of us almost always succeeded. It helped that he was too clever for most of them to catch." He had to smile to himself at that.
"He had brown skin, bright brown eyes, and carefully arranged hair. He was only slightly shorter than myself, but he had a more toned build from years of dancing and martial arts training. His face was one of the happiest I have ever seen, and that was something I needed in my life more than I realized.
And he was always there. When we needed him, he could quickly mow down monsters on the battlefield or join Trini and I in the laboratory. If I couldn't devise a solution to a problem, he often could by looking at the available resources in a way my narror mindset never considered."
A fond smile for Zack crossed his face.
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When he reaches Zack, the process repeats as two more instruments come to mind and Zack Language forms in upbeat earnest.
Trini, of soft bells and Zack of a sprightly, faster, lighter-hearted percussion compared to the thunder of Jason.
"Zhack. Zhack. Here. Joy. Zhack. Joy. Brightjoy. Here. Speak. Speak. Zhack."
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Smiling, he guides them to the soft pink light. "This is Kimberly Ann Hart, though her friends usually addressed her as Kim. She was the Pink Ranger, always graceful and free. Unlike the rest of us, she took to the skies in her Zords. Oddly enough, that suited her personality."
A nostalgic smile crossed his face. "No one ever expected that Kimberly and I would have anything in common. She was popular---a gymnast, a cheerleader, loud, bold, and beautiful. I was a gangly nerd, considered a powerful antidote to cheerleaders everywhere. But Kimberly wasn't like the rest. In each other, we found people who understood the strange contradictions of life. We were both destined to be more than the roles society placed us in, and we knew it from the beginning."
Feeling the warm confidence she brought on, he continued. "She was the emotional core of our group. Like Zack, she tried to remain optimistic, but her love was more personal and mothering. She wanted each of us to take care of ourselves and be as strong as we could. She taught me to see myself in the mirror as I truly was, not the worthless person others told me I was."
"She was the shortest of us, built like a swift athlete. Her eye were a light brown, as was her hair. Sometimes she pushed it back from her face with a pink ribbon. She had a lovely voice that she sometimes used for singing, but it was always steady. When she laughed, it was...one of the cutest sounds in the world."
And he was sticking to that.
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Her Kim Language comes off as bubbly, yet soft and steady in his ears. Her song feels and smells of something windward, skyward. Where Trini marks Serenity in his eyes, Kim marks a maverick boldness with the almost deceptive smoke screen of "airheaded mall rat".
"Kim. Here. Laugh. Joy. Fly. Kim. Kim. Laugh, sing, wind. Sky. Kim. Kim."
In Renne's ears, the Kim Language brings the airy, fey sound of flutes to the growing ensemble of the others.
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"And this is Tommy Oliver. Unlike the first four I introduced you to, Zordon didn't choose him on that first day. He was chosen some time later by our enemy, Rita Repulsa, who warped him into the evil Green Ranger."
Billy shudders, remembering his own stint with evil not too long ago. "Luckily we managed to rescue him, and he became our loyal friend. He was like Jason in many ways---a powerful warrior, compassionate, and courageous. I think his time as an evil Ranger always affected him. He worked harder than any of us to do his best as a hero to atone for what he'd done. I now know what that's like."
He touches the light. "Because his powers originated from evil, they were never really stable. They were completely drained once, partially restored, and then drained again. I believe that made him even more focused on fighting with the time he had left. Eventually, Zordon found a way to give him stable powers as the White Ranger, and he became the team leader when Jason left us."
"I didn't know Tommy as well as Jason and Kimberly did, but I knew I could count on him."
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Her light winds bring another layer to this growing orchestra. As he moves to the green/white, Renne actually flinches a little.
Green.
And then he traces GreenWhite's pattern; the Tommy-Language coming to him in a rising orchestral swell that speaks of something. Something the others intensify, just as it intensifies the others.
"Tom-me. Tom-me. Tomme. Redeem. Forgive. Speak! Tomme! Rise. Stand. Speak. Tomme!"