#if you speak spanish/know what the lyrics say it makes the last photo a hundred times funnier

[sunbeings]

latino ankh (real)

[sonicrainicorn]

Made of Love, Chapter 18

<< Previous|Next >>

Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Sometimes the past is hard to let go. Oh, and Virgil almost kills a man.

TW: Cursing, child abuse (mentioned), vomiting

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

So things weren’t all that normal the next day. Or the next after that. Or even the next one after that. Turned out having your worst fears and regrets dug up out of your buried memories box wasn’t the best thing in the world. Being subjected to them as if they happened again (without the option of changing anything) didn’t help all that much, either. How was it possible to be normal after that?

When every loud noise caused Roman to jump and Logan to freeze, or when the sun went down and Thomas had to turn on every light around him, or when Patton needed to make sure everyone was where they said they were more than once, it became clear it wouldn't be easy to act as if nothing had happened. No matter how hard they tried to.

Virgil felt as if he was grasping at straws trying to keep everyone together. They were all nervous and snappy. Patton almost punched him in the face once because he accidentally snuck up on him. It was an, uh, experience so to speak. Virgil was sure his life flashed before his eyes. He learned to be a little more cautious with everyone after that. There were at least two people who could kill him on the spot and one person who could for sure deal some damage. He didn’t want to be at the receiving end of any of those outcomes.

It was around lunch time when Virgil noticed someone was missing. He counted heads twice to see if maybe he was wrong, but it was true. There were only three other people. He looked at faces and realized it was Patton. Which was odd. Patton hadn’t tried to leave the house nor did he show interest in doing so. He wanted to keep a close eye on everyone. Yet when Virgil looked, Patton wasn’t anywhere inside. Of course, that didn't mean he left.

Virgil slipped on some shoes and walked out toward the backyard. He continued to walk past the fence, tracing over familiar steps to a place he had been several times. A structured path was starting to form from how often and how many feet have passed over this specific ground. He soon came upon a clearing. An old door sat against one of the few trees with a hole punched through it.

At first, he didn’t see Patton. Part of him was about to set panic mode into overdrive, but he happened to hear something. Or rather, someone. Patton was softly singing from… the tree. He sat atop a branch with his feet swishing back and forth every so often. It didn’t seem as if he noticed Virgil quite yet. He faced away from the clearing -- toward the wilderness of the mountain. The words of “Everything Stays” flitted out in a low whisper.

Virgil waited for the last few lyrics to be sung before deciding to make his presence known. “Uh, hey, Pat?” He walked up to the base of the tree.

“Oh! Virgil.” He covered his eyes before Virgil could see his face. His hand moved along the branch. “Didn’t hear you walk up.”

“I noticed.” He watched with mild fascination as Patton took extra care to put his glasses on a certain way. It occurred to him that he had never seen Patton without glasses before, but thought nothing of it. It didn’t make much of a difference. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. Just needed some fresh air, I guess.” He smiled down at Virgil with his glasses now in place.

Virgil knew something was off right away. “Do you mind if I join you?” He wasn’t afraid -- well, yeah, he was a bit afraid of heights. He was a little bit afraid of everything, but that also meant he didn’t have large amounts of fear in any one thing. Jack of all fears, phobia in none.

"Oh, uh, sure. You can come up if you want." Patton moved over a bit to make some room.

Virgil swallowed the nervousness building inside him and climbed up the tree. He hadn't done so in many years. The last time he ever did it, he ended up with a fractured finger when he was nine. Somehow, that ended up being the only injury he sustained. He sat next to Patton and took extra care to not look down. "So what's up? And don't give me any dad jokes."

"Darn." Patton swung his arm to express sarcastic displeasure. "What's the point of having kids if you can't even say dad jokes?"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "I'm almost thirty."

"And Thomas is almost a hundred. You're both children."

Alright. He should have expected that. Instead, he shook his head to go about the question a different way. "Why are you out here?"

Patton shrugged. "Hadn't been outside in a while. I just… I just needed to feel at home, I guess."

Virgil wasn't sure how to respond. Maybe there wasn't a proper way to.

A tiny silence hovered between them before Patton decided to break it. “I knew a girl once,” he peered down at his swinging feet, “way before I even met Logan. I must have been -- gosh -- maybe six. She was ten, maybe nine. And we were really close. My brother and I would always look forward to hanging out with her. She was lovely.” A sad smile flickered across his face. “She knew what we were and that we had magic. But she wasn’t afraid or disgusted. It was the first experience I ever had with a human. I thought they were all that way.”

He looked up at Virgil. Virgil found he couldn’t speak. There had to be a point to this, and with the way it was going, he sensed it wouldn’t be a happy one.

"My brother tried to tell me that they weren't. They were dangerous. She was the only exception. I didn't really take it seriously until it was too late." He put his hands in his lap and stared at them. "I did magic a bit too close to her village once. The people saw it, they thought it was her, and I never saw her again. She didn't even defend herself. She let everyone believe it was her so they wouldn't go looking for me." He fidgeted with his fingers. "I promised myself after that that I wouldn't let anyone danger themselves to protect me.

"But then Arlene came along and Logan --" He clenched his jaw. Virgil felt pain and anger all at once. "So I tried to make another promise. That I'd never let anything happen to Logan again. I haven't been very good at keeping it. I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at protecting people I care about."

Virgil frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“My success rate isn’t very high.” He started picking at the tree bark. “I had to watch myself fail over and over again when we were with that efiora. I hated it. I hated not being able to do anything and I hated to be reminded of it.” He stopped and looked back up at Virgil. “I guess the only thing I can do now is to make sure nothing worse happens.”

A weight fell down onto Virgil’s shoulders. It pressed onto his back like a heavy bag. He should say something. He needed to tell Patton. He had -- “Right.” He couldn’t. He knew he had to, but he couldn’t. It might’ve been dumb not to, but he couldn’t add any more bad news.

Patton sighed. “Well -- anyway,” he brought up a little smile, “I feel like making some cookies. Wanna help?”

The next day, Roman woke up the same way he had been for the past few days. That is to say, he didn’t sleep at all. Maybe he got an hour or so in last night, but not much either way. Upon deciding that he wouldn’t get any more than that, he created a cocoon of blankets and edited some photos. He waited until it was a reasonable time before shutting his laptop and leaving his room.

Then he went about the same way he always did. He tried to act like he had a normal amount of sleep and that he wasn’t hurting. Not that he’d admit he was, but even he couldn’t hide from the truth. He hurt. Every aspect of being alive and walking around hurt in some way. He felt bruises and heard sharp words as if it all happened yesterday. As if his mother came back and did every single thing she had done when he was a child.

He never liked to think about it. Whenever someone asked about his childhood, he only ever mentioned from the age he was adopted onward. And he made himself sound like everybody else. He had a mom, and a dad, and several siblings. They did the same thing any other family did. They were nice. They were normal.

Now that he thought about it, very few people knew more than the basic details about his family. One of them was Virgil, actually. He told Virgil a lot of things about them that he’d never think about telling anyone else. He admitted that all his siblings were adopted as well. Growing up, there were so many languages and cultures going around because his parents didn’t want anyone to forget who they were. Their ethnicity meant something and it wasn’t going to be taken away just because they were in an adoptive family.

It led to one of Roman’s greatest tricks: knowing five languages. He was fluent in both English and Spanish, knew basic pleasantries in Mandarin, could have a simple conversation in Tagalog, and knew a plethora of curse words in Arabic.

“You know Tagalog?” Virgil had said once he found out. “I don’t even know Tagalog.”

Roman offered to teach him what he knew. They never had a chance to work on it.

So having the short years with his mother come back was like a (proverbial) slap in the face. He didn’t think he’d ever revisit them. And why would he? As far as he or anyone else was concerned, his childhood started with the family that loved him rather than the woman who hated his existence. He never understood why she kept him if she never bothered to try loving him.

But other than that he was great. Everything was fine. He would push through the same way he always did. It would pass eventually. And then he’d be able to catch up on some missed beauty rest. Not that he needed it -- because he didn’t. No matter how much that little voice tried to tell him otherwise.

“Um, you guys okay in here?” To say that Roman expected this specific scene in the kitchen on his late afternoon would be a lie.

Patton sat perched on the counter like a frightened cat while Virgil gazed at the floor with disinterest. He had his arms crossed with his hands holding a cup and a ripped off piece of cardboard from some sort of food container.

“I saw a spider and Virgil refused to kill it so now it’s missing,” Patton answered.

“I’m not going to kill it -- they’re helpful.”

“It would be a lot easier if you killed it.”

Roman had a hard time understanding them sometimes. They were an interesting pair, to say the least. “So you’re just going to stay there in the hopes that it goes away?”

“I am not stepping down until I’m sure that it’s gone.” Patton’s tone was finalizing. Well, that was that. “So I’m gonna need you to go get Thomas and Logan for me.”

Ugh, responsibilities. “What? Where’d they go?”

“Logan decided to do some training and Thomas went with him. They’ve been up there for a while --” Patton cut himself off with a squeak. “It’s right there!”

“Hm? Oh.” Virgil took his time wandering over to where it must have been.

Roman decided to leave all that commotion behind. He walked right outside without any hesitation. When he got there, he saw Thomas sitting on a log with a pensive expression and in just enough time to see Logan get tossed to the ground with both dummies pointing their swords at him. He groaned in annoyance and dropped his head back. That was certainly a sight.

“What’s going up with him?” Roman whispered as he snuck around to sit by Thomas. He didn’t think he’d ever see Logan lose.

“He’s been at it for a while,” Thomas responded without taking his eyes off Logan. “He keeps trying things at a more difficult setting, but he can’t get past this one. I think it’s starting to make him angry.”

Logan rolled out of the way and pulled himself up. He dusted himself off before picking up his sword.

“You doing okay, bud?” Thomas asked.

“Fine.” He didn’t seem very keen on expanding his answer further.

Thomas frowned but didn’t ask anything else.

The two watched him go again. And again. And again. Each time Logan got a little closer, but would still lose at the last minute. He would be taken down or cornered, and after he’d say one more time. Which wasn’t true. It became several more times.

Roman noticed something odd. There were moments where Logan would stutter or stop as if expecting something to happen. From the position of a skilled swordsman, it didn’t make much sense to do that. Yet it happened whenever he was in a tough position. It then occurred to Roman that there was a point. Logan was trying to use magic. There were subtle movements that he did -- almost as if they were instinctual -- that were followed by a rush to regain lost time when nothing happened.

After every failure, Logan became more and more ticked off. To the point where it became obvious he was only doing this to prove something. Prove what, Roman didn’t know, but he saw Thomas get increasingly agitated as it continued.

Once one of the dummies managed to cut Logan’s arm, Thomas stood up. “Objective complete,” he commanded.

The dummies stopped and returned to piles of sticks.

Logan huffed in annoyance. “What are you doing, Thomas?” He turned to face the two onlookers.

Thomas and Roman gave each other a worried glance. “You need to stop,” Thomas continued. “It’s okay that you can’t do this.”

“I can.” Logan scowled. “I’ve been doing this for more than a hundred years.” He noticed the blood beginning to drip from his cut and managed to appear even more displeased. “This should be easy.”

“Maybe when you had your magic,” Roman mentioned. “You’ve never had to fight without it, right?”

“My magic isn’t some handicap.” Logan stabbed his sword into the ground.

Thomas grimaced. “He has a point, Logan. You’ve never had to fight without magic and that’s fine. It makes things a bit different than you’re used to.”

Logan put his hand over his cut and turned his back on them. “That doesn’t mean I can’t do it. Sword fighting has nothing to do with magic at all.”

“But you’ve always had it in your veins. It’s your instinct to rely on it when you need it, isn’t it?”

Logan didn’t respond to that. “Start up.” The wood piles sprung to life.

“You’re acting like a kid, Logan.” Slight frustration edged in Thomas’s voice. “Just take a break. This is something you can’t do.”

“You’re wrong.”

Roman noticed that Thomas looked offended for a moment. He wanted to speak up but didn’t know what to say to defuse this escalating situation.

“I’m not,” Thomas insisted. “You’re just not seeing from an outside point of view -- you’re being stubborn.” He sighed and eased away the tension in his shoulders. “It’s okay to give up, Logan. Sometimes you just need to sit out.”

Logan whipped around, fury in his features. “Why can’t you just let me do this for you, Patton?” The moment the words escaped his lips, his eyes widened in shock. All previous anger vanished as if it was never there in the first place.

Roman and Thomas stared at him with just as much shock. Neither of them knew what to say to that.

“I…” Logan took a small step back. “I didn’t mean -- I don’t -- I just --” He sighed, dropping all defenses. “I can’t exactly lie out of this, can I?” He lowered his gaze to the ground.

The other two shared another glance.

“Did I remind you of someone?” Thomas asked tentatively.

Logan laughed, but it held no humor. “You can say that.” He dropped his hand and looked at it. There was a streak of blood on his palm. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard those words.”

“Patton said that to you?” Roman asked in disbelief. He never thought Patton would want to do anything without Logan.

He looked back up. “It was a long time ago -- I shouldn’t even be focusing on that.” He wandered over to the log and sat down.

“What happened?” Thomas sat down beside him.

Logan hesitated before deciding to explain. “Back when we first started fighting against Altair, Patton and I were rarely Picani. He was afraid that I couldn’t handle it, and past paranoia made him fear that someone would find out what we were and force us to unfuse.” He grimaced. “It’s unpleasant and leaves wounds that don’t quite heal -- physically and mentally.” He placed his hand on his chest for a brief moment. “But that’s beside the point. The point is, Patton refused to let me fight at all.

“As you know, his body is full of healing magic. He can heal a papercut in the blink of an eye.” Logan frowned at his own cut. “Compared to him I was a fragile creature in constant need of his help. His biggest fear was me getting hurt. Whenever we needed to fight, we unfused and Patton went while I stayed behind. I wanted to join -- I knew it would be better if we were together -- but he wouldn’t let me.

“Patton grew up learning how to fight. Your parents, Thomas, had been fighting for centuries. I was the weakest out of all of them.” He closed his eyes. “But I knew they needed me. Patton isn’t an attacker -- he’s a defender. If I could just get Patton to see that I could protect myself, then maybe we could form Picani and provide better support.”

He opened his eyes and stared at the ground. “So I asked your parents to help me train. I had never fought with weapons before. I barely even knew how to fight with magic. But I got better. I tried everything I could to prove that I could do it. Yet no matter how hard I trained or how much I argued, Patton still wouldn’t let me go. He said I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough.”

He frowned. “He never let me try. All I wanted to do was prove that I could fight, but he never gave me a chance. Every time, it was the same answer. It would be better if I stayed out. He thought I couldn’t handle it.”

There was a beat of silence before Thomas asked, “So then how did you convince him?”

Logan relaxed a bit. A tiny smile came on his face as he turned to Thomas. “Your mother.” Thomas’s eyes widened. “She saw how hard I was trying and decided to give me a chance. She found something I could do on my own behind Patton’s back -- just so I could prove that I wasn’t as weak as he thought.”

“How did that go?” Roman asked.

“It was the first thing I ever successfully did on my own.” Logan smiled to himself. “I ended up doing a few more before Patton found out, and it’s safe to say he wasn’t all that happy about it at the time.”

“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled. “For making you think you weren’t strong enough -- for Patton thinking you weren’t strong enough.”

Logan stared at him in surprise before turning it into a small smile. “Well, you were right, in a way. My body isn’t the same without magic. I can’t do everything I used to. So… I’m sorry. For yelling and making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say nothing .” Thomas nudged him with his shoulder. “But I get what you’re saying.” He jumped up and extended a hand toward Logan. “We should get back and have Patton heal your cut.”

~~~

To say that Virgil was a little pissed off was an understatement.

He was having a pretty good day at work. Things were running smoothly, people were being nice to him, it was going well. He should have known that it wouldn’t last. The minute that he walked in Virgil had an instant need to break his nose. He sauntered up to the counter with that irritating smirk.

“So?” He asked without a care in the world. As if he didn’t send Virgil and his friends walking into a trap just the other day. “Where’s my ending?”

Oh, Virgil would give him an ending alright. He exited the bar and swooped around to grab the Theorist by the shirt collar. Not taking any objections, he started dragging him to the back room. Roman trailed after them, albeit a bit confused about the whole thing.

Once the door shut, Virgil slammed the Theorist into it.

Roman jumped. “Virgil!”

“Woah!” The Theorist held his hands up in surrender. “What is happening right now?”

“You were the one with the contract weren’t you?” Virgil reached into his pocket but kept at least one hand clutching the Theorist’s shirt. “You did this.”

The Theorist furrowed his brows. “What are you --?”

Virgil held the dagger up to his throat. “Don’t try to lie out of it.”

“Virge.” Roman stared at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Theorist kept his hands up. “I don’t know anything about a contract. I didn’t do anything.”

“How the hell am I supposed to believe you?” Virgil pressed the dagger closer. “You tricked us.”

The Theorist’s eyes flicked down to it before moving back up to Virgil. “What do you mean? I didn’t. I told you exactly where Altair would be. I have no reason to lie about that.”

“We didn’t find him there.”

The Theorist cringed. “Ooh, we’re in a bad timeline, then.”

Virgil scowled at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen, the future isn’t set in stone, alright?” He glanced between Roman and Virgil. “It’s impossible to determine which path is the right one. I took a risk telling you --”

“You took a risk?” Virgil was about two seconds away from lodging his dagger into this dude’s throat.

The Theorist frowned a bit, clearly well aware of how much danger he was in. “Do you happen to know the butterfly effect?”

“The idea that one tiny detail can cause something bigger to happen later on?” Roman crossed his arms and looked at the Theorist with intrigue.

“That’s the basics of it, yes.” The Theorist gave him a proud smile, but it fell once he noticed Virgil continuing to scowl at him. “It’s really a lot more complicated than that, but let’s look at it through that lens. The moment I made a decision to tell you I spurred a chain of events that eventually led to what happened with you. One minuscule detail that triggers a bigger impact.”

“How is this supposed to stop me from hurting you?” Virgil wouldn't hesitate to bring the dagger any closer. As far as he was concerned, this man was responsible for his friends seeing their most traumatizing moments. There wasn't any way he was going to get off easy.

“I’m just trying to prove I didn’t do anything.” The Theorist's frown deepened. “The future is tricky. Much like the butterfly effect, something that seems unimportant now can make something disastrous happen later. Not even someone like me can know what will happen with a hundred percent certainty.”

“What made you think Altair would be there in the first place?” Roman asked. He sounded a lot more gentle and friendlier than Virgil.

“I saw it.”

“What do you mean you saw it?” Virgil narrowed his eyes.

The Theorist looked right at Virgil. “All it takes is a touch. Just one little brush of the hands to catch a glimpse of someone’s timeline. I saw your past, I saw the possibilities of your future. Not enough to pick out details, but enough to get information. You didn’t exactly give me your consent, after all.”

“That doesn’t make me trust you any more.” Virgil kept his dagger in place. “How am I supposed to know you aren’t lying?”

Rather than frowning further, the Theorist seemed a bit annoyed. He sighed and before Virgil could hear, “watch out” in Patton’s voice, a hand seized his wrist.

In a matter of seconds, Virgil started to see images. Fast-paced pictures that came one right after the other. At first, his brain couldn’t keep up. They were moving too fast to understand. It wasn’t until he realized they weren't pictures, but scenes, that he was able to process them a bit better. Still, they moved too fast to decipher as they happened. By the time it switched, he had a vague idea of what went on in the previous scene.

There were moments he recognized -- graduating high school, his mom’s second wedding -- and moments he didn’t. Moments that never happened. There was Altair where he was meant to be -- at the old store -- he was there a few different times. There were also many times where he wasn’t. Of the times where he wasn’t, Anxiety appeared only a couple of times. Something else happened in the others. And then he saw past that. Somehow, he could comprehend it even less.

It seemed to move faster. Every scene flashed before him in quick succession. Like someone pressing the fast-forward button on an old videotape. He recognized the shapes, and had a vague idea of the story, but pieces were missing. Important points that he couldn’t quite make out. It was kind of terrifying. He saw… he saw Logan die. Multiple times, but always the same way. They lose. In so many different ways, they don’t win against Altair. They were all horrifying.

Then it stopped.

In a dizzying flash of light, Virgil was back in the room. He backed away from the Theorist and the dagger slipped from his hand. He swore he could see stars in front of his eyes. “What the hell was that?” He put his hands on the sides of his head. It was pounding.

“A peek into your timeline,” the Theorist groaned. He rubbed the front of his forehead with his palm.

“That was a peek?!” Virgil immediately regretted yelling. That made everything worse. “Ugh, it feels like I have a hangover and a migraine at the same time.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t feel pleasant.” He dropped his hand and gave his full attention to Virgil. “Not everyone was meant to peer into time. You’re lucky you only have a headache.”

He was going to be sick. He was going to throw up all over the stupid floor because he was Rose Tyler gazing into the heart of the TARDIS. It hurt so much.

“Do you believe me now?”

Roman put a hand on Virgil’s back. “Yeah, I believe you,” Virgil grumbled. “I saw it.” He dropped his hands, but couldn’t manage to pick his gaze off the floor.

“Then you know it wasn’t me. I never made any kind of contract with anyone. Trust me, I wouldn’t ever be on Altair’s side. The guy’s a maniac. He’d set the world on fire and call it mercy.”

Roman and Virgil exchanged a wary glance. “Thanks for trying to help,” Roman said. “Even if it didn’t quite work out as it should have.”

The Theorist gave a tiny smile. “If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know. I’m always around if you need information.”

Virgil ended up having to go home early after that. He physically couldn’t stand to be at the bar anymore. It took him almost throwing up two times to decide he needed to leave. The loud noises and the smell of alcohol was a bit too much at the moment. He must have looked like shit, too, because none of his co-workers argued against him leaving. In fact, they encouraged him to.

So Roman took him home. It was already past eleven by the time that they got there which meant the living room was empty except for Thomas. He was sitting on the couch watching John Mulaney but stopped to look at the newcomers with confusion. Virgil gave him a pathetic two-fingered salute before slinking away to his room. He heard Roman explain how he wasn’t feeling well.

Virgil didn’t bother with anything. He fell face first onto his bed and groaned into the pillow. It hurt less to be in complete darkness but he still felt like dying. A hammer was being whacked against all sides of his skull. It wasn’t pleasant. He figured he’d either need to sleep forever or know the sweet release of death to get his head to stop hurting. But since no one would be willing to kill him and it wasn’t possible to sleep the rest of his life away, the next best thing would be taking some Advil and calling it a night.

If he could manage to get himself out of bed, that is. He didn’t know if he’d be able to move again. It hurt to do anything. Maybe he should stay and accept death as it came to him. That would make things easier. Even thinking about moving was torturous.

Oh, God.

It didn’t seem as if he had a choice. He shot up from the bed and ran straight into the bathroom with just enough time to aim for the toilet bowl. Then out came whatever still happened to be sitting in his stomach. All the sudden movements made his head hurt more which, to his dismay, caused him to vomit more. It wasn’t ideal and it made him crave death more than ever.

He was spitting out the foul taste by the time someone walked in. He spared a glance to see Roman standing at the doorway. “Hey,” he croaked out.

“You look great,” Roman commented.

Virgil wasn’t sure if it was the splitting headache or what, but he was pretty sure he could see Roman looking at him in concern. “Oh, yeah, I feel wonderful.” He wiped his mouth. “If I ever try to doubt a Seer again, just punch me right in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flushed away the gross contents of his stomach and sat back on his legs. His throat burned.

“Would you like to get off the floor?” Roman raised a brow.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay here for a minute.” He didn’t think he could handle moving right now. What he didn’t expect, was for Roman to step in and join him. “What are you doing?”

“I came to check up on you so I don’t feel like I should leave until you’re back in your room.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t want you dying or anything, even though that would solve a lot of my problems. Thomas might get all sad about it.”

Virgil would roll his eyes if he could. “You’re so considerate.”

“I know.”

A brief moment of silence fell.

Roman kept his gaze on the ground. “When he showed you your timeline... what, what did you see?”

“Uh…” Virgil couldn’t say it. He didn’t think he ever would. No one else needed to know that the most likely outcome would end up with Logan dead, Patton gone, and Thomas missing. Roman didn’t need to know that if they failed, they’d be on the run for the rest of their lives. Because in those short few seconds, he saw that most of the possible time streams went that way. They had such a small chance. “Just what could have happened. If we found Altair there or not.”

Roman hummed.

“I-I think I’m gonna head off to bed now.” He tried to lift himself to his feet using the sink counter as support.

“Oh, sure." Roman seemed confused at the sudden change. "You need any help?”

“I’m good.”

He wasn’t.

(Next)

[thomastravels]

Alicante and “Carmina Burana” with La Fura dels Baus

Read my post about joining the Orfeó Valencià here and about my other performances with them here!

Last weekend, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel to Alicante with my choir here in Spain, the Orfeó Valencià, for three performances of Carmina Burana with La Fura dels Baus! La Fura is a famous Spanish theater troupe that performs hundreds of sold-out shows each year in various cities all over the world. To give you an idea of how cool they are, here is a picture of them opening the Barcelona Olympics back in ‘92.

Even after having performed with the Fura, I’m still at a loss for words to explain their unique style, so like virtually all other college students, I’ll let Wikipedia help me out on this one: “(La Fura dels Baus) is known for their urban theatre, use of unusual settings and blurring of the boundaries between audience and actor… creating a kind of adult adventure playground of fun, danger, slapstick and fantasy.” Sounds cool and kinda crazy right? You have no idea. I don’t think I could have possibly gotten a more unique and distinctly Spanish artistic and cultural experience.

Here is a trailer for the show!

I had been excited for this performance ever since I heard about it way back in December, and it started shaping up to be something really incredible even before the shows! The week leading up to the performances, we had something different going on every evening. Monday, we had costume fittings, Tuesday, the artistic director from the Fura came to Valencia to work with us on acting and staging, and on Wednesday, the mestre from the Fura (Josep Vicent) visited for a full musical run-through. For the Fura’s version of Carmina, we had to get used to performing while using “kits” (pictured below). Essentially a skinny wooden box painted black, the kits held our scores, had two lights (one for our scores and one for our faces) and a lighter that we used to imitate a candle for the grand finale. The women also had bottles of perfume attached to their kits to spray during one of the numbers.

And the kits were just the tip of the iceberg. For this performance, I swapped my usual choir tuxedo out for a long hooded robe and white facepaint! The costume and makeup definitely made quite a statement (if you will), but at least the choir was almost 80 people large, so I didn’t have to look so ridiculous alone. And besides, it was fun and helped us get in the mood for the show.

On Thursday night, we had a full dress rehearsal at the ADDA (Auditorio de la Diputación de Alicante), a solid two hour drive south of Valencia. Being on a bus with a choir brought back some found memories of my time immediately before study abroad spent with my choir back home, the UVA USingers – although this time, no one was speaking English!

Friday night, we had our final dress rehearsal… or so I thought. Seeing as the tickets for all three shows sold out months in advance (and remember, this auditorium seats 1,250 people), the Fura decided to make the last rehearsal open to the public for free, so anyone who couldn’t get tickets could still see the show. I think this was very considerate and generous of the them… except I had no idea that there would be anyone watching until I walked in and saw the auditorium almost completely packed! Doing our first-ever complete run-through of the show with a full audience watching really put on the pressure – but in the end, the performance (quasi-rehearsal?) went great!

In addition to the musical side of the trip, I also loved my time in Alicante because it allowed me plenty of time to socialize with the other singers! Between the down-time we had in between rehearsals and especially during our meals (which by the way, were all complimentary, as was our hotel – thank you Fura!), I had the chance to meet the majority of the singers. They were all super friendly and open, and I loved getting to know everyone better and chit-chat. We also had some free time to stroll around Alicante to admire the beach and see the city during Carnaval (Spanish Mardi Gras), so I made new friends during that time as well. Not to mention, it was also a wonderful opportunity to practice my Spanish with native speakers!

Beyond my Spanish skills, this trip (and singing with the Orfeó Valencià in general) has also given me plenty of opportunities to practice my virtually non-existent Catalán/Valenciano! In Cataluña, Spain (the region around Barcelona where the Fura dels Baus is from) one of the languages spoken is Catalán. In the Comunidad Valenciana, they call it Valenciano, and the two are basically the same language (but God help you if try to tell someone from Cataluña or Valencia that). For any given normal rehearsal back in Valencia, practices are conducted in about 50/50 Spanish/Valenciano. However, once we got to Alicante, the mestre of the Fura spoke to us almost exclusively in Catalán. Seeing as the instructions he gave us were pretty high-stakes, and I had no desire to mess things up (turn my flashing light on at the wrong time, miss a musical cue, etc) this gave me the opportunity to expand my knowledge of the language in a sink-or-swim environment! (I try to look at things on the bright side). This might sound kind of tough, but honestly, I can understand more than I give myself credit for, and if I don’t catch something, I can always ask the person next to me for a quick translation. Sometimes I have to do just that, but often the two languages are similar enough I can get the jist of what was said.

Beyond the fact that we rehearsed in Catalán, performing Carmina with the Fura presented a few other unique obstacles for me as a musician that I had never encountered before. Having my face completely covered in white makeup, I had to resist any temptation to scratch my face or nose at all times. However, I suppose this was a blessing and a curse, because you shouldn’t itch while performing anyways. The hood complicated things a bit more because it partially obscured my vision, and holding the kit got tiring quickly as it weighed much more than the normal scores I am accustomed to. This is all not to mention the various times throughout the show where we had to adjust our lights, set down the kits, raise/lower our hoods, etc.

However, the most challenging part by far was watching the conductor. The way the auditorium was set up for Carmina, the center stage was left open to be accessible by the actors. The Fura uses a large oval shaped screen, or the “cylinder,” which has a dual purpose: it hides the orchestra from view, and it serves as a screen that the Fura can project various images and visuals onto throughout the show. The choir is placed in two rectangles on either side of the cylinder up towards the front of the stage (see photo below).

All this means that the conductor, who is inside the cylinder facing backwards towards the orchestra, cannot be seen by the choir, which is facing forward towards the audience. The Fura’s solution to this problem was a tiny TV (Did I mention it was tiny? And I mean tiiiny) mounted on a pole to live stream the conductor from inside the cylinder. Seeing as many movements of Carmina are fast-paced and have complicated lyrics in Latin, these performances gave my neck and arms a bit of a workout. Looking up and down very speedily to check in with the conductor (or rather, the live stream of the conductor), and then looking back down at notes and lyrics while sustaining the unwieldy kit in a cramped space proved quite the mini balancing-act, but looking back on it, it was actually pretty fun, and unforgettable to say the least. There is also something to be said for the discipline necessary to concentrate on a tiny TV screen when right next to you, someone is flying around in a metal cage, hanging from the ceiling in chains, etc. But somehow, we did it, and it was an absolute blast.

I’ll never forget one movement in particular, number 11 “Estuans interius.” Theoretically, this movement shouldn’t have been especially important to me, seeing as it only involves the orchestra and one male soloist. However, in the Fura’s version of Carmina, the soloist is pushed out in a tank of “wine” (dyed water), and the men of the choir stagger around him pretending to be drunk. With cups passed out quickly in the darkness right before the number, we would go up to the tank, fill our cups, and drink merrily, all while the tenor bellows his solo from inside the tank and splashes “wine” all over the audience. No, I promise I’m not making this up. The hardest part wasn’t even pretending to be drunk, it was trying not to laugh at the screams of the unsuspecting people in the front of the audience, who had no doubt paid a pretty penny for prime seats only to end up leaving the performance soaked.

As I’m sure you can guess, the performances were absolutely incredible, indescribable really. The Fura has imagined such a vivid and unique show that it’s very difficult for me to put such a spectacular musical and visual experience into words. When I sang Carmina Burana five or so years ago in the Pennsylvania all-state chorus, I never would have imagined I would be singing the same songs again re-imagined so differently. I have to confess, I’m not always a fan of “far-out” artistic interpretations, but the Fura did such an amazing job of creating a beautiful, breathtaking show while maintaining the integrity of the piece that I couldn’t help but love it. In Spanish, the word for performance is “espectáculo,” or literally, “spectacle” – and I can’t think of a better word to describe the Fura’s performance. Here are a few pictures I found online of the same performance in different cities around Spain to help you get an idea of what that show is like.

This is the part where the women go up and spray the audience with perfume I mentioned earlier.

When I got back from Alicante late Sunday evening, I got right to work studying for my Spanish Literature and Cinema midterm. I had brought all my materials to study with me on the trip, but as it turned out we were so busy I never really had the time to get much work done. Starting to study for an exam 12 hours before you take it is never ideal, but I got the exam back today and I actually did great! Even so, lesson learned – start studying more in advance next time!

I’m lucky enough to have so many awesome experiences coming up that I’m behind on my blog posts! Last night, I got back from a weekend in Barcelona with my cousin, and this weekend I’m traveling to Paris, France with some friends from school (see post here). With any luck I’ll have a post on Barcelona up soon. In any case, I had better stop procrastinating for my exam Wednesday now – maybe I didn’t learn my lesson after all ;) That’s all for now – look out for another post in the next week or so!

Unlike some of the pictures above, these next few pictures are all from the performance I was a part of!

Here is a video I found online that someone posted to YouTube of the encore performance of “O Fortuna.”

Read my post about joining the Orfeó Valencià here and about my other performances with them here!

[olwog]

Today is interesting! The weather is projected to be wet and I’m togging up for some serious double drip rain, Gortex on top and some leggings together with my best hat bought ‘cos it has a wide brim. I look a bit of an arse but it keeps the rain off my glasses.

The Pilgrim has taken a more conservative approach with Gortex jacket and shorts, yes shorts! I suppose if you’re going to get pissing wet through then at least shorts will expose less material to the elements and ends up with less weight, this is the one thing with which a pilgrim becomes consumed.

We stayed at a casa rural and if they’re all like this, you’d do well to add it to your preference list. It’s a large converted property that looks like a Swiss chalet. This one has 6 rooms all ensuite and very comfortable. They don’t have a reception as such but once you’re booked in, who needs one?

The exit is via the lovely steps that could be both a feature and a challenge if you’re disabled. We walk along the river towards the coast with the intention of finding a cafe for our usual morning caffeine injection.

The rain that is promised hasn’t materialised yet but the sky is heavy with cloud, I’m feeling overdressed!

We decide on a detour to the breakwater but a stroke of luck intervenes in the form of two lovely Spanish ladies out power walking who recognise us as perergrinos and tell us we missed the Camino way. We ask about cafes at the estuary and the reply is negative so we revert to plan ‘B’.

Turning back, there’s no need to look for the yellow arrows, the ladies are pointing to the track and we begin what will be our first ascent of the day. The track meanders through vineyards and pastures, all on slopes. There are valleys but no flat bits at the bottom. At the top there is a camp site that we hope will have a cafe but no. It looks like we’re doomed to water for the first 6 kilometres and settle ourselves down to it.

As we emerge from the detour we see Danial and Susan the Swiss couple we met on the tops yesterday. The Pilgrim points out that this is going to be a regular occurrence and by the time she was on the closing stages of the other two Caminos that she’s completed, there was an army of people who would respond and greet others at cafes and bars along the way.

This is like Heidi country, there are sheep and goats with bells around their necks and the meadows still have a few perennial flowers that they’re gently chewing. There’s the occasional abandoned plough left to rust from a different era and a field full of donkeys. It’s all very rural and all quite beautiful.

We begin the descent to Zarautz where we’re bound to get coffee. This is a small town with a pristine sandy bay. There’s a local, sitting on a wall with the inevitable ‘phone pinned to his head. The Pilgrim asks him where there are cafes and he gestures to a sign that indicates the playa (beach) so we head in that direction arriving at a delightful hotel based cafe adjacent to the beach.

The food is simple, toast made with fabulous brown bread, and a choice of quince jam or a tomato. OK, so the tomato may not jump straight into mind when eaten with toast but with a bit of top quality olive oil to drizzle onto both, the result is a simple meal that’s divine.

We have a discussion regarding the route and decided on the coastal alternative that takes in Getaria, a small town with a big tale to tell. Apparently, the guy that did the first circumnavigation of the world was from this little town. His name was Juan Sebastian Elcano and, whilst not in charge when the voyage commenced, he assumed command on the death of Magellan and took the journey to conclusion. He was born in Getaria, Basque region in 1476 and died, sadly, of malnutrition in the Pacific Ocean in 1526. The Basques, quite rightly, are extremely proud of him. Mind you the Basques are extremely proud of anything in this region including the meat and beer. I got a bollocking from a Basque waiter for referring to some Serrano ham when it should have been Bayonne ham . The guy took a real issue with me and refused to speak or serve me, fortunately, the lady that was in charge and clearly a south of Spain girl got me off the hook, I gave her a big tip whilst he was watching; childish, I know but I left with a smug smile!

The weather continues to be generally kind although we have had a little rain as we make our way past St Martin where a group of school kids are playing in the square. I overhear, “Los peregrinos” as one of them spots us and points at the idiot wrapped up like a Michelin man. They’re playing lots of games that I remember from school and, like us, are split by gender. The boys and the odd girl are kicking a ball around (actually, it’s a tennis ball but they’re kicking it with their feet so, if I’m being pedantic, it’s a football) and two girls are hidden from the rest and are practicing dance moves whilst singing the appropriate lyrics almost under their breath. It’s a gorgeous site and makes us smile as we vacate the square and begin some more ascent through sheep farm land complete with a few goats.

After some really serious ascent we begin the descent into Zumiai. The Pilgrim seems to think that you can only experience The Camino if you stay at an albergue, An albergue is a sort of bunk house with shared dormitories and shared toilets. I’ve stayed in bunk houses many times as a diver and enjoyed the camaraderie so its not exactly new; however, everyone seems to be asking if I’ve done it yet and what did I think of it. Soo we just walked 20 kilometres but need to walk to the albergue so I can become a Pilgrim. We know it’s on the outskirts of Zumaia so we follow the yellow arrows leading out of the town.

This is without doubt ‘up’. In fact it’s seriously ‘up’, more serious than the rest of the day but this is the end of the day so it feels worse. Even The Pilgrim thinks it’s ‘up’ and she’s not sure how far ‘up’ it’s going to be so we keep walking. It’s been a good walk so we’re both up beat – the last two words were not meant to be a pun! And we reach a lovely church of Nosta Senora. A lady emerges and The Pilgrim approaches her to ask about the Santa Klara albergue. Fortunately, she knows about it although I don’t think either of us would agree with her ability to assess distance. It’s not far she says, the entrance is opposite the Casa Blanca (White House). There is a white house but it is a mystery to us just now so we continue walking around a couple more bends and we can look back into the bay, such a fabulous view. We’re thinking it’s just around the next bend and the land profile implies we’re nearing the top. As we round the next bend there it is… more ‘up’!

We can see what looks like a Swiss Chalet about a kilometre further and another 500 feet up. There’s no doubt it’s a long way up but it probably has some great views.

We get to a couple of hundred metres of it and stop on a corner to catch our breath and look back down the coast.

As we’re looking at the albergue The Pilgrim says, “It’s a long way out of town”.

Then there’s another change of heart when she says we’ll just check it out.

So, off we go on the last leg and it’s tough. We reach the top and manage to catch our breath then approach the door that looks like it’s closed for the winter.

We ring the bell and there’s no answer so we ferret about for a while.

We ring again and just as we’re about to leave there’s noise from inside and then the door opens. It’s a young girl who looks at our attire and assess the situation, quite correctly, as two peregrinos wanting accommodation in the Albergue San Klara.

“Albergue San Klara is no more”, she says, “It is closed but we are a Casa Rural”.

‘No”, says The Pilgrim, “It’s too far out of town, but thank you…”

…The view from up here though, is really quite stunning! 😀

Enjoy the photos…G..x — with Cecilia Kennedy.

  Feel free to share…

Camino – Orio to Zumiai – Day 3 Today is interesting! The weather is projected to be wet and I'm togging up for some serious double drip rain, Gortex on top and some leggings together with my best hat bought 'cos it has a wide brim.