The Divine Defender V (fiction)

Andante Hemispherous (I)

Kaleen felt an urgency to answer. She was not exactly fond of Saul’s Kinetics herself, but she had found it useful as a girl and felt she should excuse her literary mistakes. Her tail wrapped around one of her legs, and she said, “It is hard to get updated books in Saint Abeni.”

The girl on her bed closed the book and reached out her arm to drop it on the bedside table. “You can borrow my volumes from Megistus, he understands quite well what the caster undergoes. They’re in my bag.”

“I’ve read some treatises by Megistus. I am concerned that he does not understand the anatomical differences in casters and focuses too much on spell procedure. A Cuporo could not leverage the same reservoir of strength as a theoretical Damakran.” Kaleen said, ears drooping. The conversation forced itself out of her almost by rote.

The girl nodded. “He has since revised himself, and has begun to laud physical exercise as part of any successful caster’s kinetics training. He makes note of anatomy, health and preparatory matters. You would find it much more enlightening and informative, I think.”

“I will agree to that offer then.” Kaleen said.

She entered her room, methodically undoing the front buttons of her cassock. She hovered about her clothes chest, while the girl took another book from the table, this one a book of poetry concerning women and flowers, in which she seemed to find some amusement. The idle laughter jarred Kaleen, who had pulled her shoulders free of the garment and the felt her tail constricting her leg, reminding her of a problem.

She turned around to the girl with a concerned expression.

“Who are you?”

“Your new roommate,” The girl said, “What does this lilly represent?”

Kaleen mentally checked herself – this was a young woman her age, not a girl. She was a tall young lady, with a milky complexion, and Kaleen could’ve imagined her walking very straight on her long legs, almost with an air of royalty. Perhaps she was a monied girl. She had an appearance of elegance. She wore her chestnut-colored hair long and free, unlike Kaleen’s messy hair, oft constrained to a ponytail. Her tail was thin and had a fine sheen.

“I believe that poem is ‘A Lilly In A Manor Garden’ and it is about a woman. She is the lilly in the garden, and the Lord’s mistress behind his lady’s back.” Kaleen said. She paused for a moment and sighed. “What is your name?”

“This poem is ridiculous and so very stupid, I think.” The young lady replied, still absorbed by the book. “My name is Andante Hemispherous, but please call me Anda. Andante is so very long and stiff.”

Ten or so syllables bounced around in Kaleen’s head, struggling toward a proper etymology. She smashed and spun them but could not seem to get them to agree. Her attention wavered once more to the bag at the door.

“Do you want me to get that?”

Anda put the poetry book back on the table and laid flat on the bed, her tail straightening out on over the sheets, as her form of response.

Kaleen finished stripping off her cassock, unconscious of her visitor. She withdrew a teal gown from her chest and slipped it over herself. Anda wore a similar gown. This same design was worn casually by Seraphim around the convent and dormitories; long sleeves, bare shoulders, collarbones and neck, fabric to the ankle, made of a solid fabric. Kaleen pressed the gown against her body and ambled to the doorway, finding the hall rather quiet.

She took the bag from the doorway and deposited it on the side of the bed.

“I usually sleep on the bottom bunk.” Kaleen said.

“But I can have it, am I correct?” Anda replied, smiling. “Sister…?”

There was silence between them for a moment before Kaleen acquiesced, “Kaleen Yweh.”

Anda nodded. “I believe I will grow fond of you, Kali.” She said in a monotone. “You seem to have a good grip on dialogue. You won’t believe the want of good conservation I have undergone through the years.”

“Excuse me?” Kaleen said, tail standing on end. “Kali?“

“Would you prefer I refer to you as Sister Yweh? That last ‘sister’ I uttered will be the very last ‘sister’ among us. You will be Kali and I will be Anda.” Anda said determinedly, “Otherwise our conversations would be an ocean of honorifics.” She reached for another book, this time a collection of the late Andalian philosopher Climdale. “I absolutely detest this man and his opinions on the nature of Spirits, he was so wrong and so sad.”

Carelessly, Andante threw the book over her shoulder, and out of a window. Kaleen didn’t think she even knew a window was there, and probably wouldn’t know until a breeze blew. Below them, she heard a distant “ouch!” as the book struck down a nondescript cherubim.