Conversations

Yossarian trudged along a lonely dirt road, viewing the fenced areas of land on each side of the road. A slight breeze flinging a fresh scent into his nose, along with the slight smell of shit. Yossarian eyed ahead of the road, looking for any sign of civilization again. Fuck me, this is the one thing that I will never like about the countryside, its bloody vastness.

"So ... why are you following me?" Yossarian asked the seemingly always unbothered Georgia, hiking behind him in silence. A large wooden crate and backpack tied to her back, creating a rather contrasting look to Georgia's small figure, Yossarian sighted. "No, actually when are you going to start talking to me because I'm becoming very bored."

Yossarian heard a small grunt in response, a smile stretching on his face, "Wow, I took you for quite a talker but you always seem to surprise me."

Georgia sighed before responding. "Daddy told me to come along and visit my uncle that lives in dis village to deliver some alcohol that he order some time back. An since I was on my way there, he told me to take you with me, sadly." She finished

"Ohh, how lovely. My own personal guide to take me across the lands, not that I couldn't get there myself." Yossarian raddled on, Georgia grunting in response and rolling her eyes. "So my lovely companion, what is our plan of action, our game plan as some might say."

A look of confusion passed across her face before replying, "We walk."

"Lovely. so Georgia, mind if I call you Georgia, this village ... 'Village des Martyrs' is what its called right, I thought as much. So any idea what's the issue there."

"not really, just pa and Guil - the old man - getting all tense whenever some traveler or oddball that's passen by brings it up. They Usually avoid the question whenever that happens. Never bring it up past that"

Yossarian pressed his lips, mind trying to wrap around whatever might be meeting them when they arrive at the place. "This would be all the more better if this village wasn't so far away" He cried in frustration, kicking a small stone along the path.

The two walked until dusk, Yossarian preaching 'about this and that', Georgia walking in silence not responding. They stopped under a small grove Georgia noted, speaking out for the first time in hours. Only after did the two set up the camp and Yossarian took off his belt and satchel did he notice Georgia's eyes spark with interest. So its alchemy that peaks your interest, is it?

"Do you know what the bags called?" Yossarian asked, crouched, lighting kindle surrounded by a circle of stones with a battered silver lighter.

"A satchel?" Georgia questioned, her eyes starting to focusing more on the leather satchel, gleaming over the small marked insignia of a circle with a double lined 'v' protruding, pushing the line in between the 'v'.

Yossarian laughed, "No, we alchemist's have a special name for these bags, the ones we stash all our herbs, drugs, and metals. 'Morte', it derives from 'mors tua', a latin phrase for 'your death, my life'. We call it that because for an alchemist the death of something in nature is merely the start of something … more. Death can cultivate life, life brings about death and thus the cycle is continued, until we can create something beyond life and death. Plus if you lose your Morte you've basically killed yourself." Yossarian finished, standing up from a bright fire.

The scarlet light turning the small smirk on his face into a menacing look, curling Georgia's stomach. Yet Her eyes locked into Yossarian's unable to pull away.

"Interesting isn't." He added noting her uncommon interest and sat down.

"Huh um ... yeah ... its interesting." Georgia stumbled out dwindling her rough and dirty thumbs together, leaning back into the stiff wooden crate.

"Taking a guess here, shot in the dark some might say. Might you be enticed by the Alchemistry arts? No need to be embarrassed. It's not rare to find some interest into such a wide subject." Yossarian stated taking out a cloth package, unraveling to reveal a clump of cheese, biscuits and dried meat.

"Is dat thingy on the morte apart of alchemy?" Georgia asked, indicating to the insignia on Yossarian's satchel.

"Mmmmh, oh, no." Yossarian replied, picking up his morte, chuckling. "Funny you ask, it's actually a witch insignia. It stands for bravery if I'm correct. It was the house symbol of my master, beyond that I'm not all to sure."

"Your master?"

"Yes that's how most alchemist learn, through another established alchemist - or in my case a witch - and they teach you all the skills and knowledge one would need."

"Who were they, your mastery"

Yossarian tossed his head back, his memories swirling back to that faithful day at a lake lost deep in a untouched, unknown part of a forest. "She found me in a real dark part of my life, a time I would rather forget." Yossarian stared back into Georgia's wide, focused gaze.

A warm smile fitted onto his face. "She helped me when I needed it most. Gave me something to do when I had nothing. Gave me guidance when I was lost in life. She was everything to me." The memories came harder now, a torrent of waves stirring his mind into the past.

Images of a drunken mess stumbling through a forest, not noticing the larger and thicker trees appearing in his path and the remnants of signs of society depreciating. A sight of a wide empty lake, moonlight spooling along its clear surface. The moonlight reflecting off a white figure dancing atop the water's surface, slight ripples starting in their dance.

His gaze dropping to an old lady lying by the bay staring at him, a warm smile on her face. Then a picture of a wooden door surfaced into his mind and Yossarian's eyes ripped open, his heart beat spiking.

He only then realised Georgia was asking him another question, her unrelenting eyes slightly quelling his rising anxiousness. "What's the difference between a witch and an alchemist?"

Yossarian sighed feeling the work of the day starting to weigh on him. This will be the last one.

"In truth not much, alchemistry focuses more on the physical or practical interests like chemistry or (Yossarian paused snapping his fingers) metallurgy. Whilst witches prioritize more on spiritual and nature matters like sacrifices, internal energies and animalistic views. Both intersect at times on certain areas like ideas on the souls and utilising the natural items to create life. From that I was basically able to find a middle ground to which I specialize in." Yossarian noticed Georgia about to launch another question, his ginger attitude dwindling to the influence of the cosy fire and dark night.

"And that's the last question, night!" Yossarian snapped, lying down, wrapping his worn coat too stave off the nights chill and infesting bugs. He cut Georgia off, her mouth still stuck open at Yossarian's blunt finish yet an unfound, burning interest stuck in her unwilling to die off.

"Just one more ... p-please" Georgia spat out. Yossarian groaned, a tired anger starting to stir within him.

"When did you become chatty all of a sudden?" He blurted out, seeing a slight annoyance hit Georgia's face, he bit down hard on his bottom lip refusing to let the anger get the best of him. "Alright shoot."

"What's that mark on your hand? Is it apart of witchcraft or Alchemy? How did you get it?" Georgia blurted out, sensing this was her last chance to have some questions solved.

That's three, Yossarian bitterly noted. He looked bleakly into the cold night, feeling the cool air fill a void in his chest.

"It's something that doesn't concern you." Yossarian answered, "But I'm not exactly sure about it's origin, maybe something of a hybrid between the two arts. And finally, it came at a great cost ... something dear to me. As agreed, that's all. Night!"

Georgia crawled closer to the dwindling fire, enjoying the blend of the warm flame and the cool air of the night, yet unsatisfied. An unquenched thirst that kept her up all night.