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⌭ Oscar & Brae ⌭ [PART I]

"Remnants of A Rage"

By Samuel OlukayodePublished 3 years ago 11 min read
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— The Prologue—

Brae stood feeling the familiar tides of unease rising within. Despite the near countless joules of bright cosmic light coursing through her, the reality of certain death had a way of making her feel nothing, but dim. She looked on as Oscar diligently tapped away at his console.

He’d grown much these last few years. His locs formed a beautiful black crown of freshly done twists and shone brilliantly in the rays of sun that spilled through the skylight. The steel floor was cool even in the spots it was bathed the brightest. It was a welcome feeling for Brae.

The energy running through her had become unstable and kept her temperature on a near constant climb. Currently bordering fifteen-hundred degrees kelvin, she’d have been dead twenty-one hundred degrees ago If not for her Oscar’s genius. He’d developed an exo garment that could mediate her L'tharum levels— the source of her heat— and lose a liquid cooling agent into her bloodstream when they began to pique. Though he was beyond what could be considered a prodigy, he wasn’t quite a savant. Ones, zeroes and machinery were to him, what words were to a poet, but he still required effort and studious discipline to be as great as he was.

Brae looked about the familiar housing as she paced. An attempt to face her impending fate, that was met with choked tears. She opted to distract herself with her surroundings instead. Currently she stood in a large and tall room of an even larger and taller mansion. It was no ordinary spectacle, tucked carefully away from civilian areas.

Oscar, along with he and Brae’s mentor— Demlorai— designed and constructed the marvel. The skylight’s beam greatly complemented the wideness and height of the room as well as all the tech that sat about it. Placed neatly and meticulously it created a splendidly harmonious ambience under the golden light. Like a painting of some odd castle chamber, from a far off future. Large sophisticated drones of Oscar's design, hummed about the structure. Surveying miles beyond the perimeter without ever leaving it.

Recently the floor and walls of the chamber were modified to keep their surfaces just below freezing. That along with Brae's exo suit made her feel like she was in a winter wonderland, but minus the discomfort of being cold. An interesting sensation really. Her fluctuating L'tharum levels were a detriment only to others— save Oscar. She was honestly rather content. Dying aside.

Across the room sat a large containment pod, beveling out of the wall shaped like the top portion of an egg. Four large tubes protruded and extended from either side, traveling beneath the floor; In the center of the room was a large panel marked with curving and straight illuminated lines. By Oscar’s word, it would allow for a wholly less volatile fission process.

A thick and heavy door was cut into the face of the pod. The young woman felt chills, gazing at what could very well be considered her coffin. She could feel it now. L'tharum swelling, bubbling and fluxing— trying to break free of it’s vessel. Thinking of her Godmother— Oscar’s mother— she looked back at the young man.

So much of him felt like her, minus his general unapproachability. Nandi, unlike her son, wore a constant expression that always teetered on a toothy grin's brink. Oscar's demeanor was often quiet and considering. Never open enough to know what he was thinking, but wide enough to see it was a lot. Certainly no grinning however. Seriousness incarnate.

Watching him, she could tell the many meticulous thoughts that were often speeding through his mind did so now. She thought to ask if he were cold, but knew what the answer would be something brainy and pact with smart assery. His reflections in the many monitors all had furrowed brows and nibbled at the inner of their top lip in concentration. Hovering from control panel to control panel in his antigrav pod. He looked like some constipated boy genius plotting against the powers that be. Brae stifled laughter.

“Smiling while dying is like picking Bulbasaur as your starter.” Oscar chimed. “Marcus Aurelius was wrong about that one.” The boy’s eyes darted about the super machine. Completely focused on everything, but the young woman. She’d always imagined he’d be less of a twerp the day she died. Foolish of her.

Though she was impressed he could effectively show his age and correctly quote and name a roman emperor philosopher simultaneously. Childish, but...high level thinker. True marvel the boy. Brae mused to herself.

“It’s just...you.” She gestured absentmindedly. To anyone else he was an enigmatic ass hat; To Brae he was just a loveable ass hat that had tells you could pick up on if he ever let you close enough. When he was considering the validity of a thing— usually some social normative— his ears twitched.

“What’d I say?” Brae sighed. “That just doesn’t make any sense to me. I haven’t said anything funny. I’ve said very little in fact and these words don’t count...obviously.” Staring blankly at the illuminated data the boy looked like he was trying to contain a torrent of ill emotions, yet his rapidly paced fingers over a holographic keyboard betrayed the fact.

Brae smiled solemnly and moved closer to the unabashedly honest boy as his chair descended enough for her to reach. “Hey.” Her voice was soft behind him, but her hand on his shoulder was a firm grip that shifted his gaze and attention from screens to big sister.

“I’m scared too.” she whispered. Oscar’s eyes shone with un-spilt tears and memories better forgotten. He sat quiet, a hair shorter than a moment. “Usually we lose someone when you say that...not having to guess this time actually makes it worse.” He gently brushed her hand away.

Brae stood for a moment, eyes swimming with the same pain of remembrance as the boys. Despite the weight of the situation and the coiling pressure of grief that threatened to crush her heart she refused to crumble.

“Mi cielito...”, Brae hummed with small pulses of L'tharum adorning her legs and hovered just above Oscar with her back to the console now. looking slightly down at him. Oscar looked up in horror. “Will you stop, you’re gonna make it worst!”. Brae stared sternly. Oscar lessened his focus letting his eyes drift around her general vicinity.

Making eye contact was difficult for him at times. It was too personal in a way. Instead he’d focus on the solar plexus. Mouths were simply weird. Other times just the space surrounding someone sufficed. As if seeing their aura, which made him feel focused enough. Brae came closer taking a breath. “The world is about to change...so are you,” She turned in the air still humming as she went to look out one of the many tall windows.

“But the one thing that will never be different...no matter the dimension, no matter the world and no matter the trouble that comes with it— I’m always gonna be—” A slow finger raised losing a stream of curling lime colored light with hints of pink in its hue, till it touched Oscar's heart. Warmth spread through the boy. “— right there. I will always protect you. Even if you can’t see me...and even if you don’t need me.” she finished.

Unfettered, tears fell from the boy's eyes, onto fist in the knotted fabric of his shirt where his chest was still warm. but his expression remained blank. His pod turned toward the window where she was and when it was close enough he pulled her into a hug she was all too glad to receive. “I’ll always need you.”

Oscar’s voice was steady and flat, but honest. He hadn’t been this affectionate since Brae’s last true brush with death and before that pretty much never. Nothing, but joy filled her still beating heart. The older girl basked in the moment, glad to be where she was. It didn’t last though. Soon enough the cold reality found its way through the warmth, and the joy melted with it. She was going to die today.

There would be no more chances to feel these feelings of love, trust and companionship. She would never hug her brother again.

She would never clean his locs , before he re-twisted them himself because she always made them too tight. She’d never get to style them for him and smell the sweetness of coconut oil that permeated the mass. She’d never get to spend quality time with him. Or see him grow. Be there for his first love. Or heartbreak should it come to pass. She’d never see him again.

As fast as it had come, the frigid truth thawed into salty oceans, that her eyes could no longer harbor. The siblings sobbed in a quiet tandem. Before letting him go, Brae tilted Oscar’s head and planted a gentle kiss right above the furrow in his brow.

There was a small spark between her lips and his skin as they parted. He didn’t notice, but promptly wiped at his forehead. "¡Pequeña mierda!" Brae swatted at him, while he swiveled back to his monitors, the smallest of curves playing at the corners of his lips.

Brae looked back at the large pod in the wall. “No Demi?” she asked. There was a slight pitch in her voice when she spoke. Implicative of the hope he’d say what she wanted. Oscar was quiet for a moment. Then, “Somewhere being shitty.” Nope. The young woman took a quiet breath. She wasn’t surprised or angry. On the contrary she was sorry.

Her mentor had warned her— often— of her recklessness and where it might lead and now she was facing the consequences for not heeding that council. Doing so without him like this was just an unwanted cherry on top. Tough shit. She told herself. It’s not like he hadn’t already said goodbye, but still. She really wished he were here.

She stood right in front of the pod now with a hand on its cool metal. “Not that I’m in any hurry to be dead, but uhm...how’s—” Brae’s words cut short as she gasped, doubling over in pain. Whipping around Oscar watched her shutter with gritted teeth and closed eyes.

Her fingers digging at her temples as she struggled to contain the the erratic L'tharum energies jerking her about like she was possessed. Bright hues flashed, at odd intervals, beneath her skin. Like a billion stars bursting at once.

“Brae!” Oscar’s pod sped toward her. With ease, the boy lifted and launched himself from his seating as the vessel halted abruptly. Catapulting the remainder of the room he landed expertly, rolling to lessen the impact and skidded perfectly in position, sidled next to his sister. Her grit began to wane as the L'tharum grew more furious. The light had begun to glow steadily, buzzing. It was getting worse faster than it ever had.

“Hang on!” Oscar pleaded. As if protecting her from debris the young boy wrapped his slightly smaller frame around her. Closing his eyes he held her tight. Then— he glew.

Tears and blood from the young woman's gritted teeth stained his shirt. The sound of her resilient whimpers, placed a vice grip around his heart. He concentrated. Beckoning the L'tharum with his own, it seeped out of Brae. Like colorful mist on wind it moved with grace and fury all at once. Rushing into and through the boy.

After a moment the shuttering ceased and her eyelid’s opened again. Behind her low lashes rainbow colored orbs swam with fatigue. “Gracias.” She breathed. “Eres... mucho más fuerte ahora.” Slowly the aura around her faded and her eyes returned to their normal peanut butter brown, but her breathing was slightly ragged. “They’re getting close. This needs to happen now.” Brae heaved between breaths standing on her own. Like a cruel and cold claw, dread consumed Oscar.

He hated this. First his parents and now he was being forced to watch, not just his sister, but bestfriend march towards a so similar fate. And just like before there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Brae looked at him with the only eyes that could truly see all that he was. Then like only she could, she smiled. "Ahhh, levántate hermano pequeño." She was so strong he thought to himself. Just like his mother.

Too strong for her own good in a way, but if not for that strength the world would have ended a long time ago. Soon he’d have to take her place. “Lo prometo.” He climbed back into his chair, pulsing toward his console.

fantasy
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About the Creator

Samuel Olukayode

"Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command." — Alan Watts

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