Nymphaea

a/n: There is a huge amount of mental speech in this chapter. I would love to post that in a different font but AFF does not offer this function, so I made it italic. If this annoys you, feel free to name an alternative method.


Chapter 24: Innocence

They took a quick shower holding each other, soaping each other, and then they sat down to attack their lunch. It was barely lukewarm by now but tasted good still.

Stephen looked at Ayve, waiting in patient silence for him to begin the talking. When Ayve took his time and Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to start at all, he decided to encourage him by asking once more. “So how come you are not a purebred nymph? What do you mean by that? Was your mother something else?” Ayve shook his head, smirking.

No. There are many things she wasn’t but she most definitely was a nymph. Promised to my father from early childhood on. But let me tell you things in chronological order; or rather in the order I got to know them.

Ayve shoved some of his fried rice and vegetables into his mouth with his chopsticks. The benefit of talking through telepathy was that you could use your mouth for other tasks in the meantime. Stephen unfortunately wasn’t very skilled with this sort of cutlery. His stomach only filled slowly.

When I was a small child, my people lived in settlements of a few dozen persons each. They built huts in the woody dales of the Scottish Highlands - there used to be more trees back then; they were stubbed to gain plains for the cattle to graze on by the humans later. My people always settled close to larger lakes, fishing grounds. All in all there were a few hundred people, maybe ten to fifteen settlements with thirty to forty inhabitants each.

The common way of living was for the males of a family to live in a hut together and for the females and their children to live in another hut. As Seya has already told you, infants are carried around by their mothers. That is because they are still very vulnerable, in comparison to human children physically underdeveloped.

“Why are they still underdeveloped after such a long time of pregnancy?” Stephen asked. “Seya said something like fifty years…”

Ayve smirked. It’s because we have other abilities to develop. We are more aware. Not only concerning the five senses we have in common with you but mainly when it comes to our additional skills. It takes time to develop those. And spending time in the womb or protected close to your mother gives us the opportunity to cultivate those senses. Our physics might lag behind but our mind develops – relatively – faster on the other hand.

Maybe I can even try to explain that in a scientific approach: human parents are always told to keep their small children active, to stimulate their brains by reading to them, engaging them in creative games and the like. That is supposed to boost the generation of synapses which takes place in early childhood. When the first thing humans do is developing their ability to taste and hear and feel and see and smell, ‘nymphs’ postpone this phase in favour of shaping their mental abilities which enable them to act without their bodies. Through the strong bond with their mothers they develop a sense for other people’s emotions – they train their empathetic skills. And as they spend a much longer period of time without the actual ability to use their mouths to form words, they are held to speak the way I am talking to you right now. Of course this ability is not given to every nymph. As Seya has told you, it’s gotten quite rare. I can only take guesses why. Perhaps nymphs have taken to verbalized language, have copied it when getting into contact with humans and the lack of use of their ability to speak silently has made this ability become stunted. But that’s groping in the dark – I just don’t know.

Ayve got up to get them drinks from the mini-bar. But what I’m emphasizing is that nymphs are already born with a certain ability to understand what’s going on around them. They have the mental capacity to understand the concept of mother and father, of emotions and of communication. They might not yet use actual words but they have a way of their own to communicate what they feel and to understand at least the basics of what’s happening around them. The usual nymph mother will undertake a complex procedure of rituals: monthly rituals together with the father of her child to stimulate the senses of the baby and daily rituals to make sure she keeps calm and happy and provides her child with the best environment to grow up in possible. Ayve handed Stephen his glass and settled down in his armchair again.

My mother however was hysteric. Quite an achievement given the amount of calming herbs and words my father provided her with. I’ve never in my life seen a female nymph…

He broke off and took a few measured, deep breaths. Grinning cynically.

“What’s up?” Stephen asked cautiously.

Ayve shook his head, raising an eyebrow, seeming amused. Sorry, I am just trying to keep myself from giving her nasty names. They’re lying on my tongue but…, he scratched himself above his eye, I promised my father to pay her the respect a mother deserves – despite the fact that she has not lived up to her role. So let’s just pretend I’ve already said what I wanted to say and move on. He sent an amused look over to Stephen while sipping his drink.

So, she was hysteric. I did not understand why but I sensed her resentment towards me.

“Do you actually remember this?” Stephen asked, taken aback.

Ayve considered this for a moment. Well, I know it. And I definitely haven’t been told. I suppose I don’t remember but I remember remembering. Do you understand what I mean? Not having a clear memory of the actual event but you still remember the basic facts as if you have pondered about it in your mind so many times that the original memory was replaced with the account of it? I think most of my memories are like that. I don’t see them through my eyes but as a spectator. And the emotions attached to them are slightly altered as well, although I still have a basic knowledge of what I was feeling at that particular moment.

He paused shortly and went on then.

What you need to realize is that we dospend fifty years in our mother’s womb. It’s plausible that our brain will develop further than that of a human baby which has only nine months before it is thrown into the world.

So I was in a somehow more alert state than would be usually the case within my mother’s womb. No woman is hysteric for fifty years of course, but she had her bad days. And when she’d finally…, he raised his eyebrows again and shifted in his seat, obviously suppressing another unseemly phrasing. When she’d given birth to me, she refused to care for me as would have been her duty. I’m sure my father tried to convince her to change her mind but in the end he was the one who took up the task.

It was a peaceful phase. Being the leader of this scattered tribe, he had to travel between the different settlements, had to partake in all kinds of celebrations – bonding between young nymphs that were supposed to sire a child in a few decades or centuries (There is no such thing as a marriage, seeing that nymphs won’t found a household, have regular sexual intercourse and the like.), the siring or birth of a child, things like that.

“Do you have anything to say in the matter of with whom you are going to bond? I mean, not you as leader these days but the nymph who is bonded?” Stephen intercepted again.

Back then? Hardly, Ayve replied. As one of us you are supposed to have an equal relation to everyone. There is no such thing as individualism. The most important thing for a member of a tribe is to fulfil its duty as member of this tribe. If a fisher is needed it doesn’t matter if you’d rather have hunted (unless this is due to a lack of fishing- and a well-developed hunting-skill). And if you are asked to sire the child of a certain woman because this makes sense for the tribe then this is what you are going to do.

He looked at Stephen, searching his face for comprehension and acceptance and chose to explicate the matter further.

Let’s imagine there is a nymph that is in his best years and who would be perfect to sire a child. Who has perhaps strong telepathic abilities, a rare gift that needs to be passed on to the next generation. Unfortunately, the lady who was designated to bear his children has passed away, due to an accident or an attack of a wild animal or the like. Nymphs are not immortal. Only the natural death is coming very late. So this man needs to pass on his genes, to speak in human terminology again, and the only female available who is not yet bonded is a young nymph who has just reached the biological stage of potential motherhood. Usually she wouldn’t be asked to have a child for several decades or even centuries to come but it would be high time for her to get bonded. And there is this charming young male nymph that she is quite fond of and has spent thoughts on bonding with. Again: this alone is nothing you would have found in our culture back then. But let’s play ‘what if’. So: what is – from the tribe’s point of view! – the right thing to do? Bond the two youngsters which would postpone the fathering of the child with the potential danger of the woman dying beforehand(!) or bonding the older and more powerful male nymph with the maiden which might lead to a new, skilful member of the tribe in the future and leaves the young male still with the option of finding himself a younger female nymph when he has reached the age of fatherhood? Ayve shrugged his shoulders with raised eyebrows and his head cocked.

Stephen understood his point but it still left him with a bitter aftertaste. “I don’t know, it still seems harsh,” he said therefore.

Ayve smirked. That is a modern-day perception. Three hundred years ago, even two hundred years ago, people would have agreed with me without even thinking. The concept of love-marriage is bound to a certain amount of wealth. You can afford to seek for ‘the right one’, these days. As well as you have time to ponder about things like political rights. Back in the seventeenth century, in the eighteenth century, most Europeans were still so worried how they were going to feed their family, that they didn’t have time to think about such things. And if you’d been a poor peasant back then and there had been an old widowed farmer with a nice bit of land, a house to live in and maybe even a cow or something like that coming along and asking for the hand of your daughter without asking for a high dowry you would gladly have given her to him. Life is not about self-realisation, it’s about surviving, Stephen.

But to make this clear: I said back then. I don’t force anyone into anything (and neither did my father, it never occurred to anyone to object). These days people often take the initiative, having found a matching partner and approaching me then. Sometimes I meet someone that would fit together with someone in another group – even with someone in the Asian tribe – and make the proposition. Lately, since the first children born after my father’s death reach adulthood now, parents start to look for matches, approach me with the request of helping them in their search or bond a couple they have matched up already. But again: it’s never forced. This new development of decentralized matchmaking, as one might call it, with even the bonding aspirants seeking their partners themselves clearly has to do with the fact that our tribe was scattered for a while. Some of the members wandered alone for centuries before I found them and sent them to meet up with the others. This experience has made them more independent. Ayve sipped his drink.

He gazed at Stephen. Satisfied with that answer for now?

-“Sure.” Ayve nodded and resumed his tale.

So… I was carried around by my father and enjoyed his love for his task for a while. I suppose at some level I also felt good seeing that all these people honoured my father the way they did and were pleased to be allowed to spend time in his presence - me being the one who shared every second of every day with him. I suppose I looked at him pretty much as human children look at their mothers: with this gleam in their eyes that says ‘she is the fairest lady in the world’.

As for me - people were simply ignoring me back then. And since an infant does not really have a relation to its self, I was fine with that. I lived through my father’s emotions, I felt like a part of him - there was no need for own.

Ayve swayed the drink in his hand, contemplating. Stephen could not make out a concrete emotion in the older man’s face. If he was truly touched by what he was talking about, he hadn’t yet come to the point of leaving his mask behind, the impulse to control himself and suppress his feelings so they would not overwhelm him. Or he had pushed the emotions so far down into that place he had described to Stephen that they just weren’t surfacing even when the events were discussed that had induced them.

Perhaps Ayve’s demeanour would change in the course of the afternoon. Although they had already spent an hour talking, they had not yet discussed anything critical, apart from Ayve’s mother.

But then there came the phase when I was encouraged to move about on my own, Ayve continued. As it is traditional, I was set on the floor to crawl whereas my father was doing his work nearby. That was when I first noticed people throwing strange glances at me. Never when my father was around. But when he was busy.

And then I learned to walk and even run within a few months, maybe three or four, but that might be the blurred recollections of a child’s mind. And people were staring at me more bluntly. Infants of my age weren’t supposed to run around. Nymphs are no born athletes. He smiled. Well, not in their perception. They take quite some time until they learn how to make proper use of their bodies. I didn’t. I just used it. Right away. That seemed to – pardon my words – scare the shit out of them. People were openly avoiding me from that point. My father told me to be patient and forgiving. Always that. Patient, understanding and forgiving.

Stephen wore a quizzical expression on his face. “You were still a small child. Patience and understanding are really nothing I associate with children, let alone forgiveness. Children tend to have a very strong sense for injustice…”

Ayve smiled. He had taken to closely observing his glass and the hand that held it instead of looking at Stephen in the course of their conversation. Well, nymph children are different, more even-tempered. They don’t have tantrums or the like. They are apprehensive. Perhaps because they are growing up amongst adults. It’s rare for two nymphs of the same age to grow up together.

And I’m not sure whether my father realized from the beginning what it’s like for a small child not to be accepted. People weren’t usually avoided like that. He was unfamiliar with such behaviour. I don’t think he knew what kind of impact that had on me.

Being deprived of the opportunity to befriend anybody because of travelling with him all the time was one thing. I never really had the chance to get to know my own culture, to participate in daily life. But I don’t think I would have minded it too much seeing that I enjoyed spending time with my father. But being cut off any other friendly contact completely although observing how the others were interacting with each other of course wasn’t easy on me.

I did small things to get attention. Nothing bad, just little acts that were out of the ordinary. It started with glaring back at the people that couldn’t keep their eyes off me but didn’t bother going near me. But since the attention that I received wasn’t very satisfying, I dropped that behaviour quite soon and tried to entertain myself. With time I discovered that I could move things without touching them. But seeing me play with stones, giving them a mental nudge and see how far they’ll fly and the like did not exactly improve my reputation. People seemed to be scared.

At some point I begged my father to be allowed to remain behind when we reached another settlement. Remain behind in the wilderness instead of having to accompany him and be stared at again. I think that shattered his illusions about our situation.

Ayve pulled off his shoes and tried to find a more comfortable position on his armchair. Stephen got up, seized Ayve’s hand and pulled him towards the bed. “Let’s lie down,” he suggested. Ayve settled down, rolled to his side so he faced Stephen who lay down beside him, closed his eyes and relaxed. They still held hands.

Stephen let his gaze drift over Ayve’s slender shape. His hair pooled on the bed around him, his face still bore a slightly uncomfortable look, despite the relaxation.

Stephen grasped Ayve’s hip to support himself and drew closer to his lover, resting his forehead on Ayve’s. He looked down on the hand he was still holding (too delicate for a usual man’s) and slowly started taking off the blossom-shaped ring, eyeing Ayve’s face in between in case he didn’t like that. It did draw Ayve’s attention but he didn’t object. They both stared down at it, the back of Ayve’s finger softly running over the side of Stephen’s hand that turned the ring in examination. It reminded Stephen of all the strange stories he’d been told that had involved it.

“So how did your father react to your pledge?” Stephen finally asked to animate Ayve to resume his tale.

Well, he tried to talk me out of it. Tried to talk sense into his people. But it was to no avail.

“Why were they like that anyway? Was there a reason to it or was it this strange outsider-thing that just occurs because people need to degrade someone in order to feel superior themselves?”

Ayve smirked. I don’t think it’s in our culture to seek personal gain in the degradation of someone else. At least I’ve never observed any other case.

I couldn’t have given an answer to you back then. There was the unusualness of my upbringing – infants are typically only brought up by their fathers if the mother has died – and also my uncommon gifts. Telekinesis is no skill known to nymphs. And then there was my physical appearance. My height hadn’t developed yet but I did notice that my reflection in the water differed from the average looks. No nymph has black hair. They’re red-headed. Nymphs of other tribes might be blond. But black is not natural. And neither are my eyes. Nymphs have green eyes, sometimes brown.

Ayve had recaptured the ring and was now gently stroking Stephen’s palm.

Of course I have asked my father why I am different but he would only answer that it didn’t matter. That I was still his son and he cared for me and that everything had a reason, was right the way it was. In addition to what Seya has told you about the different talents spread in the different tribes, that our ‘family’-line is known for the mental skills that are associated with a strong will such as mind-reading or even mind-influencing – two gifts that are given to me –, my father had also the rare talent of foresight that is usually attributed to the Asian nymphs. As Seya has mentioned already how imprecise this power is, I need not tell you again but still my father always emphasized that there is a reason for everything that happens to me and that my people will need me as their leader, as my father’s successor, even though they do not value me now in their nescience.

Ayve had entwined his left hand with Stephen’s and put the other on top of them and shut his eyes now, nuzzling against Stephen. Stephen had been right in his assumption that Ayve was veiling his feelings and being closer to each other might help him to open up. The steady mental voice unfortunately didn’t betray Ayve’s true state of mind. An actual physical voice might have wavered or broken if Ayve had been uncomfortable but this way all Stephen was left with was Ayve’s feeble body language.

In the meantime Ayve went on. It’s always a little hard to accept such intangible ‘truths’ but despite my relative isolation from social life I did have a certain amount of conscientiousness and an unshakeable trust in my father’s judgement and therefore accepted his words, trying my best to live up to his expectations. Though I really could not see how I should grow up to lead those people who did not even dare go near me.

My father agreed that I did not have to accompany him every time. So I used his absence to move about, train my body and my senses, hunt, collect roots and herbs that my father would need for his rituals. When he got back he taught me the ancient writing and the traditional songs that went along with certain rituals.

Ayve pulled Stephen into an embrace and held him close, their legs entangled.

Stephen let it happen without comment, enjoying the closeness himself, dwelling in the intimacy of the moment. It was perfect: for a long time they had shared physical intimacy, had felt so close, but there had been a mental barrier between them; Stephen had tried in vain to find out more about Ayve. Today, until half an hour ago, when they had been sitting there at the table and Ayve had started narrating, Stephen had had the impression that Ayve was withdrawn, wasn’t really physically present. His body had seemed so lifeless, unmoved. This moment was the first time that Ayve lay as an entity in his arms, both his body and his mind, ready to be explored by him.

Of course my father did not let me stay away from the settlements all the time. And I cannot deny that I welcomed the opportunity to be amongst people for a few hours. I don’t think I’m a born loner. In fact I don’t think there are born loners. Just some people who have the strength of character to accept their fate better than others. I learned to live with it and I learned to appreciate the time I had to think, to explore, to create small pieces of art… but it got lonely with time.

There were months in winter when we had to stay with the others in the warm huts. I was eyed when I entered each time - what else could I expect - but kindly ignored afterwards. I think my father had a stronger influence on the males pertaining to their take on me than he had on the women. And since we stayed in a hut with other males of course, the winters could actually be quite okay. My skills in fishing and hunting wouldn’t be praised despite the fact that I succeeded when others despaired but my contribution was welcomed and I could listen to the talks about old times when our people lived in warmer, more fertile areas: how they had built wooden houses and nurtured wisdom, how they had exchanged goods with other peoples and the like.

My father still treasured a few heirlooms from former times; gifts from our allies back then. Such as this ring. It had grown into something like the unofficial sign for the leader; was handed down as such. My father had received it from his mother who had been the leader in her days.

Even back then, in my childhood, our culture was fading. We had chosen peace over luxury, withdrawing every time a human tribe had entered the territory and sought dominance. We’d already given up a lot – since Scotland is not exactly high in natural resources. Ayve silenced. They lay together for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth.

“What’s up?” Stephen finally asked when Ayve did not proceed.

Ayve shrugged minutely. I was merely going over everything, contemplating whether there is anything else to say.

Maybe I should add that I am fairly sure my ‘mother’ was the one who planted the mistrust towards me in the female population, from where it carried to the men. That would explain a lot. I’m not sure how much of it was a conscious act on her side. Repudiating me alone has undoubtedly had a certain impact, as well as her refusal to ever meet me. Yet I could bet there was more to it. In my opinion she tried to make my position in our tribe so difficult that it would appear wiser to my father to sire a new heir. And I have to admit I was deeply hurt when I found out one day that indeed I had a younger sister.

But I am anticipating things here.

As I grew older – literally speaking – I outgrew everybody. I think I might have mentioned that before: the average nymph is maybe five feet six, I am over six feet tall. That alone intimidated the others. My slightly more muscular built – nymphs really are pushovers, fast but not strong – added to that impression. And then there was my marked preference for physical hunting. I mean: not setting traps but taking your prey by surprise and overpowering it with your physical strength and agility. That was something I had learned in my time alone in the wilderness. Something that helped me ridding myself of the frustration that went along with the constant rejection. And it was something they could absolutely not understand. It seemed irrational to them. And I already told you how ‘much’ they like irrationality.

Stephen grinned inwardly, thinking about the incident when Ayve had asked him to maintain a certain amount of rationality, even in a personal relationship like theirs.

My heated way of hunting, Ayve continued meanwhile, must have made me seem to them like a wild beast in bloodthirstiness or something. They just couldn’t comprehend.

So at some point I told my father that I would try and live on my own. That I would not spend huge amounts of my life in the company of people who condemned me for being who I was.

He pleaded with me to think the matter over, to invest more patience. And I in turn demanded to be told why I am different. Ayve paused.

Stephen sensed that something stirred in him. He would have liked to check his face but they lay cheek to cheek and he dared not move, fearing that might distract Ayve.

The calm voice in his head resumed speech.The cynicism that had grown in me over the centuries was something my father could not handle, so after a few – in my perception still mild – insults he finally gave in.

To make the following comprehensible: nymph ladies are able to become pregnant in approximately ten out of one hundred years. The nymph male will detect her state through her scent. He ceases drinking the calming teas then, instead changing to stimulating herbs – in case he wishes to father a child. Nymph children are sired in a complex row of rituals in a time frame of multiple years. I don’t know what exactly happens there. Whether our biology is similar to other kinds’ – with a time frame in which a female will allow the male to try and breed and that it may take several attempts until she is impregnated - or whether it is the way my father believed – that the multiple acts of union each add to the power of the child. I’d rather believe the old tale although human science would pay me a weak smile for this.

Fact is that at some point in that process of my siring, my mother had intercourse with another man. None of our kind, naturally. The voice silenced again.

“How did you react to that?”

Ayve’s hand slipped under Stephen’s sweater and rested on his warm skin. I asked him why he cared about me. He only replied what he’d always said: that it didn’t matter; that I still was his son. I told him that I needed time; that I did not wish to see anyone but him for a while.

I lived like that – as an outcast – for several years, even in winter. I had found a cave that gave me shelter and an opportunity to stock what I needed. I wasn’t totally alone. I’d helped out a young lady who had been travelling between two settlements and had been surprised by a heavy storm once and since we secretly met every now and again. Not to do anything indecent. Merely to talk a bit – she kept me up to date with what was going on in the settlements – and exchange goods. The people in her settlement actually knew who she was meeting. The thought was not to their liking but my hunting eased their hunger in several harsh winters. Of course my father went to see me every now and again as well. But there wasn’t much left to say to each other.

Then one day I noticed an unfamiliar presence somewhere in the distance. I knew my territory. I had a feeling for it. I always knew what was going on in the settlements through mind reading and I knew when a stranger was entering the area. Sometimes human hunters were coming this far. But the presence I sensed was not human. Nor a nymph. I followed it – as you followed me to the beach.

I was not frightened; that feeling was unfamiliar to me then. I had never encountered anything that could physically harm me. Therefore I did not bother to disguise me more than I usually did, although of course I was cautious. I crept up from a rocky mountain pass against the wind, knowing that the other was near. He stared at me bluntly from the dale he had been hunting in. Prey lying a few feet away from him, a small fire crackling to his feet. We held each other’s gaze for a while and then he turned back to preparing his meal, seemingly ignoring me.

I went further down, finally stopping at the foot of the mountain, so that I could see him better without invading his space too much. The similarities between us were striking: he was nearly my size, though I guessed he might still be growing; he looked young. He had a stature similar to mine, the same black hair, even his movements were alike. And he seemed to have hunted down his meal in my fashion.

He ignored me and went about his usual business. And I sat there realizing I might just have found a lead to that other, as yet unexplored side of me. Of course it intrigued me to have the chance to learn more about it. To possibly discover that I was not acting out of the ordinary; that there were others like me. Yet I did not make the first step. I was insecure how I’d be greeted. After all: I did not know whether he was interested in company. I watched him for a while and then I turned back to my own hiding place.

The next days I silently monitored his movements, merely by sensing his presence from afar. He seemed to watch the settlements, drawing close enough to observe my people without catching their attention.

And then one night I heard noises from below my cave and awoke to immediately know he was very close. Stepping out of my hiding place, I saw him halting in about sixty feet’s distance. After holding my gaze as he’d done the first time we’d faced each other, he started to talk. In broken words of my tongue but well enough for me to understand. He claimed having been looking for me; that he’d been sent to invite me to join his people for a while. I can’t say he seemed a very charming person; he was not more talkative than I was and I hardly spoke a word back then. But his offer intrigued me.

The next morning I went to see my father. He wasn’t in the settlements that I had stayed near to so I guessed he’d be with his family. I had purposefully avoided the settlement my mother lived in so far but I wanted to ask his opinion and so I tracked him down there. It was then that I discovered I had a half grown sister. Daughter of the same woman that had refused to be my mother. I’m sure my father had not consciously kept her existence hidden from me – we just never discussed these kinds of things – but I was hurt; I felt betrayed, no matter what he said (and of course he assured me that she was not meant to replace me; that I was still supposed to be his successor). It was highly unusual for a nymph couple to have two underage children at the same time and I had been underage when my sister had been born.

In the end I decided to seize the opportunity and go with this other, and if it only was to get away from the disappointment my old life held for me.

They lay silent for a few moments. Then Ayve disentangled his limbs from Stephen’s and left the bed, stretching.

“What now?” Stephen demanded to know.

Ayve switched on a lamp. Let’s end this for tonight. It’s growing dark, I’m tired and our plane leaves early tomorrow, Ayve said.

Stephen straightened up. “But we’re in the middle of the story…”

Ayve smiled at him wearily. I’d say we have reached the end of a chapter, to speak in that allegory. The next bit isn’t significant for our journey. I’d rather continue playing the storyteller after our visit to my people.

Stephen sighed but accepted Ayve’s pace. It was his story to tell in the end.

***