#came to hate on christian creeps and left with so much discomfort and hate again cuz obviously.

[cinemaobscura]

Perfect Obedience | Obediencia perfecta (2014) dir. Luis Urquiza

[fanarchoslashivist]

The unhatched egg

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad (p. 198-199).” Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis * Aster did not like to fly. As he double checked the harness that strapped him into the cramped seat of the gumpack sized plane he was reminded exactly why. The plane bucked and shuddered against an unseen enemy and beyond the glass pane was only eternal darkness. A gripping plummeting feeling in his stomach that could have been fear or motion sickness had him swallowing thickly and fighting against the urge to shut his eyes. “Sorry there’s no leg room.” The voice of his pilot did not come from an intercom overhead but from directly beside him loud enough to be heard over the noise of the plane. “No worries mate,” Aster assured him around the choking lump in his throat, though his long legs were already protesting it was hardly his most prominent discomfort. “Yer saving me from having ta wait out the storm and hours of grief from me mates if I’m late.” “My pleasure. I was heading out and I had the seat, lucky I did too, the last trip before a storm tends to be a big load.” The rattle of cargo behind them backed up his statement well enough. If the Bearhawk hadn’t been a four seater it was likely Aster wouldn’t have had even this chance to reach North’s. “You ah, you fly often Mr. Frost?” “Just Jack is fine, and since I was old enough.” His pilot flashed him a grin as white as his hair at the obvious anxiety in Aster’s voice. He knew he didn’t look much older than a college student. “I know what I’m doing, worry not. I’ll get you there in one piece.” The nausea begged to differ, if the constant rocking didn’t let up soon he was going to scatter pieces of his digestive system all over the cockpit. It didn’t help that outside the winter sky was black as death. A half hour ago they had passed over water and he had caught sight of the midday sun barely peeking over the horizon before they had disappeared into the arctic winter’s night once more. In a few days even that much sun wouldn’t be able to creep over the land. The plane banked to the right and the thought of some invisible mountain lurking ahead sent his stomach lurching. "Oh stewth," The plane shuddered again and Aster swallowed both bile and pride and closed his eyes, imagining green and warmth and not the thought of falling who knew how far into the cold and dark. "Relax." His mentally unstable pilot knocked their knees together teasingly. "You're going to give yourself a panic attack worrying over nothing." "All I can see is nothing." Aster shot back. "Stop thinking about it." Jack’s voice was still steady and confident in spite of flying blind. "Talk to me, get your mind elsewhere. Tell me something about yourself, what do you do for a living?” “Paint, mostly.” Another shudder and he was digging his fingers into his knees but he took a deep breath and concentrated on the conversation. “I live off the land, grow things, farm and such, hunt.” “That's one way to not be a starving artist.” “Too many rabbits in OZ to starve.” If they had been driving a car Aster imagined they'd have screeched to a halt, as it was Jack pinned him with a look as wide and blue as the afternoon sky should have been in any sane part of the world but the arctic. “You hunt rabbits?!” his shout was high pitched and horrified. “I’m a greenie mate, but rabbits are invasive down under.” Aster defended. “Yeah but, can't you like catch them without killing them or something?” Jack argued. “There's no way there are THAT many rabbits in Australia, isn't it like a death trap?” “You live in Alaska.” Aster pointed out, “You gonna spit the dummy over hunting here? It's not like there's a Garden of Eden out in the never never. People have’ta eat.” Jack's face got that tight constipated look of a person who didn't want to admit the other person in an argument had a point. “Well I don't think I can kill a bunny, even hungry.” “You garden enough, you learn ta hate the little buggers, even if you don't eat them.” Jack's pout only got more severe. “You know what? I’m calling you Bunny now.” “Why the Hell would you?” “To guilt you obviously. To remind you of those poor defenseless bunnies you murder every time you hear it, and me,” Jack pointed to himself with one hand, “you'll remember my disappointed face.” “We're never gonna meet again once we land.” Aster reminded him, wondering how ‘defenseless’ Jack would find a bunny who's kicking and biting in his hands. “You'd be surprised how annoying I can be in a short amount of time Bunny." “Somehow I don't think I would.” against his will he found the corners of his mouth tugging up. “Is that an insult? Are you insulting me Bun? I am offended.” “Yer serious about this Bunny thing ain't ya?” “I'm always serious about being annoying.” Jack confided with a smirking nod to himself. “It's one of my finest skills.” “Aside from flying I hope?” “Flying’s not a skill,” Jack informed him fiendishly, “it's my god given talent.” “That's a statement ya might want t’make before you bring a bloke up a thousand feet.” Jack let out a long trickling stream of laughter too light and free to match his deep voice. It was a laugh that had likely never been stifled. “What made you want t’be a pilot?” “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about you, cottontail?” Jack teased. “I already know everything about m’self.” Aster answered with his own grin. Jack’s easy laugh was infectious, and he felt himself relaxing. “When I was a kid, about 14, I missed the tour bus back to my town before a big storm. I was pretty upset about having to spend the last few days of my vacation waiting out the storm instead of with my family. Then a bush pilot offered me a lift. He had a few drops to make, and I was happy to help if it meant I got back home in time.” Jack's smile as he looked out the windshield spoke of the fond memories he saw in the darkness ahead. “I loved it, though I was no doubt annoying as fuck with all my questions and badgering he never got angry with me or irritable. I had this image in my head of racing against the storm, flying over Alaska with mountains and snow and forests, you can imagine the impression it left on a teenager.” Aster could imagine it well. A sullen kid rescued from boredom and disappointment and taken on a daring adventure over beautiful wilderness, racing the clock. How it must have thrilled him. “I got my taste of flight that day, and I couldn't stand to be on the ground after that. I needed wings.” “Was it hard to do?” “In Alaska? Never.” “Dangerous though, ever crash?” “Ah ah, you have reached your skip limit.” Jack announced. “Now it's time to talk about, guess who? Yourself.” Aster scowled, but it was half hearted. "M'from Australia, came up to visit my mates." "You told me that much when we met." Jack's blue eyes were on him for an instant, amusement making them scrunch at the corners. "Do you like it there?" "Can't imagine living anyplace else." "Good. It's good to have a home you love." "What about yerself?" Something about that comment felt wrong. "I used to, but since I lost my family it's pretty much just been me and the plane.” Ah, so there it was. "No place to overwinter?" "I have a few places, but nothing that's really a 'home'." “Sounds lonely.” Aster regretted the words as soon as they were said, but he couldn’t bring himself to backtrack. Instead he simply said what he felt, “sound’s like me, when I was young.” “Were you lonely?” Jack’s question was lower, barely audible over the noise of the cockpit. “More than I can explain.” It still hurt to think of it, those years passing by in a haze of terrible isolation. “For so long I forgot what not being alone felt like.” “You forget you’re even alone.” Jack’s voice was a whisper, it shouldn’t have been heard over the noise of the plane at all, and yet it resonated in Aster’s ears with an unearthly clarity. “You start to think you like it better that way.” “Yeah, that's it.” Aster breathed, “That's exactly it.” They lapsed into silence, the noise of the plane becoming a physical blanket of comfort around them as the topic settled and an obvious wound was allowed to fade to a dull ache again. Then suddenly Jack grinned. “Check your pieces cottontail,” he said, nudging Aster with an elbow, “We’re about to land.” Through the darkness a light shimmered into view, wavering like a mirage. A few more minutes and Aster realized what he was seeing was the outline of towering hills of ice surrounding North’s home, and the glow was the light pollution just beyond the obstruction. The plane descended and he was surprised his stomach didn't pitch, somehow through the conversation his anxiety had faded and his motion sickness had calmed to a faint cramping in the gut. North's runway was hardly more than a few thousand foot road of ice but it was enough for a four seater bush plane to touch down. After so long of staring at nothing but black the lights from the town were brilliant and fantastical. A low whistle had him looking back to Jack. “Now this, this is pretty. You don’t expect to see this kind of thing this far out from the cities.” “It’s North’s pride and joy.” He wondered what it looked like, so someone so used to the Alaskan wilderness, to see the towering buildings and glittering lights. He wondered if Jack had ever been to a big city, or if his travels only brought him from the coast to the backwoods towns and back again. “Ye ah, ye wanna come in, have a drink?” He asked, his nerves tiptoeing in new directions now that he was back on thrice blessed Earth. “North would be happy to have ya.” “Wish I could.” Jack sighed, “But I still have two stops to make before the storm hits, and I want to be someplace safe myself.” “One of yer ‘not homes’?” “Yeah.” There was a wistfulness in his eyes as he looked at Aster, and he didn’t imagine the longing to accept the invitation in them. Jack would join him if he could, but circumstances what they were… “You failed.” Aster said suddenly, and Jack jerked back. “What?” “You weren’t nearly as annoying as ye could have been.” Jack’s sour candy pout returned and Aster found himself resisting the urge to lean over and take a bite. “Just you wait, Bunny, the next time you have your sights set on your fluffy kin you’ll think of me. I know it.” “We’ll see.” Aster smirked, and grabbing his duffel he exited the plane. He doubted very much he’s be forgetting Jack Frost anytime soon. As cold as it was inside the cockpit, Aster had forgotten to brace himself for the outside. “Fuck.” he swore as the temperature gripped him and stole his breath. It was the sudden silence, however, that struck him the most. After the constant noise of the bush plane, the snow covered world around him felt unwelcoming. He turned to wave back at Jack, but both he and the bearhawk were already gone. “BUNNY!” North’s shout cracked the silence like breaking ice and Aster spun on his heel to face his oldest friend. “Did ye see it?” he demanded. “No, you didn’t even set off wards.” North marched over to him like a looming disaster, face severe. “I waited for you, but until you appeared just now, there was no sign.” “And the time?” “Seventeen oh nine. Same as the reports.” The presumed time of death. “I was worried, Bunny. When the hour approached but you did not.” Bunnymund looked out onto the landing strip, searching for some sign, some hint of a plane arriving, but the snow along the road was undisturbed. Just like the snow in Dutch Harbor. Jack had appeared out of the night, and into the night he returned. They had crossed miles of land and ice in complete darkness within a single hour, within the same time it had taken for a hundred and twenty pounds of adolescent curiosity to board a three thousand pound plane, and sink with it below the ice. And yet the person he flew with had never even hinted at such a tragic end. There was no anger, no vengeance, and no ill will towards the person now sitting in his vacant seat. Just the ghost of a boy doing what he died dreaming he’d one day do. Rescuing people from boredom and racing the storm. “He’s not dangerous, North.” Bunny said softly, remembering the smiling face of the boy playing at being a pilot as he spoke of the man who killed him. “I don’t think he even knows he’d dead.”