Sons of Illia: Thacius finds his way to Paradise.

The Sons of Illia home had become a house. The dance of Thacius and Bractus stepped apart into a conversation within the bulging of change that numbed out the scent of the past behind. The movement of a brother seeking the other had come to an end. The weight of truth in its composed smell, touch and sound now echoed through the kitchen and Thacius’s routine. The home had become a house to Thacius and in its walls he saw the cage that contained him. The morning wind that once carried a song of memory that Thacius sat with to feed his wakening body now emptied to its blue carriage. A coldness that Thacius would brush his face into and write to, now demanded he escape its touch. The fields around the home decorticated itself to its aged form. Warmth breathing out of the hills, and food in their colour ended with the season. The rolling waves around the home now a bog of difficult terrain, paths that were walked into valleys and an emptiness in discovery towards the starvation of routine. Thacius stood within a home that had become a place, a house, four walls and doors that allowed something else in that he did not know: a stillness into reality of the world that it is.

Should it be cruel or a relief that Thacius was gifted with the true sight of his home as he rose to all that he wanted to be? A businessman, a man of action, the purposeful guide responsible for his brother, Bractus. Or, in the ways of the Gods, does this calling that becomes reveal its true nature beyond the vision of even Thacius’ eyes or Bractus’ stomach. The gift to Thacius was now a home that hung the weights of itself around his neck. The weight of the morning lighted off as the weightlessness of thought, the weight of the fields, a heavier weight that made him sink, the weight of his brother, tied to an anchor that couldn’t be moved. Strung to new corners of the world, Thacius looked around him and from beneath the waves he rose on top to see the home that had become a house.

The Decision to Leave

Thacius, overburdened by the weightlessness of the house against his soul moved through it at a rate to subdue the rising tension that emanated from Bractus. In this way, the Sons of Illia began to condition themselves by the routines of their actions, away from the edging of their souls. If the push of one was given, beyond the bounds of what is permitted, by expectation, or pattern, then the limits of the response are given back to fold him. Through pressure systems that exchanged in footsteps, movements in draws and fears to be blamed for the squeaks of doors from shifting winds, the distance from the walls began to form. The endless hold of the home eroded. Space was defined and measured. The push upon Thacius did little to curtail the expanse of the world outside himself as he was trapped by the walls that separated him from within.

Thacius catching himself still in the kitchen was held in place without the guiding hand of home’s routine. The dance to stoke the fire with the iron rod to his left, and the twist to draw open the chimney’s breathing vein had no music. Stood still, the glisten off the polished bronze pots looked back with a white tarnish. The bowls and blades left with meat between their teeth moved from an acceptable tolerance to a festering of this place. Thacius stood in the world that became blunted to what could be next, instead, he was there. Still. Frozen and with the weight of decisions he should not make, but needed too. Thacius form moved him around, directed by his chest that pulled him to the front door. A guidance from within that spoke itself without words: Thacius knew he needed to leave to discover his home.

The Childhood Place

Thaciu’s life became idle unless he progressed himself towards the decision he needed to make. The days went on for a time, spinning on their edge and muted as Thacius held onto a conversation within: he needed to leave. The crofters came to him to sell their crop early, wanting to use their profit to buy out the neighbouring riverbed property. Thacius heard their case, the logic of their decision to expand and bet on the future. A deal that Thacius accepted at his own cost as he knew that he wouldn’t hold in the future anyway. Thacius reluctance, the delay to decide, the ways in which to look within the prism of their eyes to make meaning come out had all fallen away. Watershed moments in the present had no burden on him no matter how grand they may have once been. Thacius deflected the importance held by others knowing: he wouldn’t be there to decide. The weeks passed under Thacius as he stood above the decision he needed to make. He needed to leave, to go to a place that might build out the meaning of who he was as a brotherless Son of Illia.

Thacius retreated to the one question of need that plagued him and had taken away the light from those he saw around him. Thacius was once again driven to explore the conversation in the trees and strangers that passed on by. An openness to the wisdom of the river came for Thacius first. The streams that called out his name in the past had subtly lost their voice. Yet, Thacius did not want to believe the deftness of his ears as an echo in his mind. Venturing down to the river’s bank, Thacius walked with his arms wide, pushing the vegetation of the bank away. Stumbling up and down the sandy edge Thacius arrived at the bank.

Thacius stood at the bank of the river awaiting the conversation in its rolling lip. Standing wide, open and with a tension that pulled his shoulders high. The performance of Thacius was ignored. The wind flew away and the light gave his shadow a warming touch. Ignored for the performance he walked on in. Thacius feet curled the mud holding onto it with command. His knees ploughed like knives to cut himself deeper. Standing still once within its wrath, the river wrapped against his frame. Holding him still, the river ignored him still. Thacius, urged to hear the way of the world as it had always spoken to him, now walked out alone. The trees watched him silently and he looked upon them as only the matter of water and liquid sap that stayed within their core. Thacius dripping into the river’s mud became affixed to the ground. He saw it now only as mud. Stick. The inches of worms. Matter at his feet that is washed away by the rain. The soul of the river had died within Thacius leaving him complete in a new state of wakenness that is avoided by the sane, a daydream of isolation from nature in the very present day.

Thacius moved towards home carrying an emptiness that the sun flickering through the canopy could not fill. The grass he once walked with now held him upright in pain. Each step is a reminder of his disconnection from this place. All the while the void of Thacius echoed the question of need. The need to leave. The need to escape. The need to find a new place of comfort where he can push against, and a violence against his soul can push against still. Thacius’ thoughts sat without progress, the depths of his spirit refused to sink deeper. Held up by this state, Thacius moved over the rise of the sheep paddocks along the goats track that separated livestock. On the verge of the stony path that had been sculped by horse carts and the movement of traffic Thacius was greeted by a dark shadow.

Walking towards Thacius stepped a man with purpose in his step. The gate of his walk did not push him along but pulled him towards his goal. Closer he came, Thacius’ pace slowed, holding his gaze on him, desperately calling out his name in the silent hope to be seen. Emerging into his wake, the shadowy figure shined a light of stability that Thacius could rest in. Driven to be heard by himself in the isolation of self that walked with him, Thacius called out to him in words misspoken, “Hello, how are you (said in a way that bent the words towards an eager reply)”?

Thacius stood still waiting to learn if the dry riverbed had followed him here.

“Evening, what are you doing out here in the rain, you should be inside and warm!” the man saw Thacius’ form and the emptiness that weighted within. Thacius given the chance spoke from his chest: “I havent been able to find the warmth for some weeks now, it always seems to flicker by”.

The man of purpose heard Thacius speak from somewhere else and reached in to rescue him: “you need to close the doors and stoke the fire into a winters flame, its coming earlier this year the cold didnt anyone teach you boy”

The man continued to move towards what called out to him after a slight slow in his step. Thacius knowing that his man would pull him out, followed him in his wake “where are you off to? Do you need a hand?

“Not really, todays the last day the cattle stay out before the winter barning so theyre hungry and will come in by themselves” the man walked down the hill in the opposite direction that Thacius had came. At the ledge of the hill before it melted away to the eastern roads a barn with lights dimming on showed itself through light outlines between the wooden panel boards. Thacius pulled by the man followed him down calling out.

“They can chase you out if you don’t lock them in quickly” Thacius said in an infliction that shifted to upward shouting and an authority on the matter.

Hearing the knowledge masquerading as experience the farmer walked on down the hill allowing the stranger in his wake to feel as if he was helping him along. “Come on then, you go around the front and when they’re in we’ll lock them in”. Thacius disconnected from the hollowness in his chest to answer the question of need, moved towards helping the farmer through an action only he knew existed.

Separated from the farmer Thacius began to open the interlocked gates that sank into each other for support. Lifting the frame of one gate onto its hinges open the gates to waiting dairy cattle. Walking in by themselves the farmer called them to the other end by his voice and the tradition of ritual under the blue winter moon. Shuttled to their pens Thacius quickly and diligently collected the gates that had opened wide, lifted them back onto their hinges and spun around to watch the farmer move to anticipate his step. The herding cattle that now thinned themselves out in the safety of their home now rested over their food. Walking between the pens the farmer dragged the pregnant heifers by their horns into the barn on the other side of the fence. Separated by a gate they moved without a fight towards more feed and softer beds. Thacius watched on, predicting which heifer would be moved and which would remain. Guessing as the tells of the farmer were subtle, the urge to help the farmer decide was held in hope of being right. One by one the farmer separated the herd and each pregnant heifer was a bull in Thacius mind. The reluctance to be wrong was pushed away by the want to help. In the end, the farmer separated the herd into three groups: the pregnant, the bulls and the workers.

Walking over to Thacius that sat high ontop of the fence that separated the barns, the farmer gleed with a wholeness he heard in the rivers run. He had done his purpose and was complete:

“Did you get the fences closed?” the farmer asked thacius in a way that uplifted what mattered to him. “Yes I shut them straight away and I was going to come in and help but you had it sorted” Thacius replied still trying to fool himself he was equal.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, theyll do that, theyve had a couple seasons here so they know whats going on, I just need to remind them sometimes” the farmer replied and suddenly Thacius felt the strangeness of where he stood, without purpose nor without help, the sensation of a boy returned to Thacius as he bid for a way to gain the farmers attention.

“Is there anything else to do? Or are we done?” Thacius replied

“Lets go, time for something warm and Im late for dinner, ohh im always late for dinner shes going to kill me someday” The farmer pulled thacius back along the path towards the cottage at the other side of the hill. Out of view of the barns the thin door hide itself behind white paint and the thatched roof.

“Come on in, come on” the farmer ending his pull as he entered the harbour of his home. “Youre late, you’re always late, Ill die one day and you wont be able to save me because youre late” a soft stirn voice come out of the kitchen into the room where Thacius and the farmer took off their coats then with the ability to bend, their boots. “Yes my dear Im late, Im sorry I brought along a new friend … so you can blame him” the farmer called out with a new voice that only she would hear.

Stepping into the kitchens void was a short woman with a warm smile across her face and lame arms that sat by her side. Presented in a state of sadness and disappointment, it was all pretend, a show, to lure out the gentle hug of the farmer that enveloped her from grin to grin. A moment of warmth, an exchange that no stranger could interrupt was given a moments rest.

Thacius stood, waiting, knowing that time could not pass them by. In a sudden movement, the farmer released her and turned around. “This is our guest” holding his hand up and to Thacius. The wife, looking blankly at apart of her that stood outside of her asked “well, whats his name?” Sheepishly puzzled himself, the farmer turned around in a parawet to go prepare the table, he moved in a way that accepted his punishment and hurried towards it knowing it was just.

“My name is Thacius, are you sure I can stay?” thacius said in the voice of the boy that wanted to feast on the warmth of their glow. Dismissing the doubt to be welcomed that weaved through Thacius voice the farmers wife turned away and commanded “Yes stay, but get the cups from the top left shelf, bring the salt thats on the bench and come by the fire its freezing”. Thacius accepting her commands did as he was told and stepped to the side as the farmer washed by his side to get the plates and cistern of milk. Stepping toward the table the room narrowed behind a heavy pelt curtain. No wider than the cupboard in his house, the cottage had a table with 3 ends and three seats that when filled with cups and plates was filled to the brim as a royal feast.

“Sit” the farmers wife commanded still without giving up her name, a strange practice in her own home. Yet, thacius motivated by innocent politeness felt obligated to ask.

“Now this is my fault, I have forgotten your names, its been so much all at once and I am not the best in remembering” Thacius placarded to her, the matriarch of this domain.

Scrapping the edges of the pot to mix the fat back into the stew she lifted the ladle out and pointed to her husband labelling him as “Kedar” and then lifting her gaze up to Thacius she drove it into him with a voice that he never forgot “Mouswald”. A name that Thacius on anyone else might think less of, and scold for its simple origins yet on her, she gave no doubt that such a name could be as equal to the Ceasers, the Blands or the River course kings.

Thacius sat at the dinners table, edged by the couple that gave themselves to each other through the predicting of movements and remarks. A conversation about the heifers led by Kedar was lifted higher by Mouswalds celebratory remarks and then tested for purity by challenging him on his plans. To and fro, the couple saw the world they walked through and gave themselves praise to get to the next. A to and fro that Thacius silently admired as a course to his meal. Mouswalds eyes fell over Thacius to let him eat the side of their conversation. As they pulled and poked at the rise and falls of the day they arrived into the slowness of the present moment. “Have you had enough to eat?” Mouswald demanded Thacius speak honestly as they have. “Yes, thank you it was wonderful” Thacius replied superficially in a way that angered Mouswald. “Ill go get more then” she asked again for his true voice. “No honestly I couldnt have more I am full and not sure if Ill make it home if im too full” Thacius began to answer the questions correctly.

“What brings you to our farm?” Mouswald wasent concerned of his answer.

“I had just gone for a walk down the river’s edge and was making my way back in the twilight when I saw your husband walking to the farm, so I went and gave him a hand” Thacius replied and Mousald heard the truths between. Her husband didnt need a hand but the loneliness of his day meant he wondered along his side anyway. Mouswald knowing the man she married also knew the comfort of being carried along by the direction of someone elese when yourre adrift in a directionless state. “Thank you, sometimes he doesnt know how to accept help so its kind that you gave it” she paused to hide the true meaning “I suppose youre the one to blame for him being late, ill forgive you this time but not the next” Mouswalds lightness settled Thacius and his back edged further down his chair.

Kedar amused by his dinner sat silently to hunt down the fat stuck to the bowls edge with his bread. Finishing his hunt, he looked up and was thrown into action for the next. Collecting the plates, the cups and the crumbs of the bread into his palm, he made his way to the kitchen to clean up. Mouswald lifted her elbows to give way to his wake and settled down looking into Thacius. “What are your plans tomorrow?” she tilted her head in the rest of her hands letting him know that his answer was at peace no matter its name.

Thacius pushed towards the honest meal in the kitchen answered the question that separated him from the river and the world. Unable to think on the words to say he was directed by his chest and what Mouswald commanded of him. “I am headed to my hometown tomorrow where I grew up before this place” Thacius had his conclusion and expanded so he could near some more. “Im headed to a coastal village some 200 miles from here, its a small fishing town called Dharwal”. Thacius now spoke with the confidence of a teenager that was gaining his traction in his identity again. Without prompting him, Mouswald paused in her hands to let him speak. “You might now it, its known to many as paradise on earth, beautiful rainforests that line an escarpment that drops into the sea. Fishing villages that meet their fill and nights that end soon after dawn, early to rise again in paradise in the waves, trees and wind”. The longer Thacius spoke the more confidence returned to him as the void coloured itself with touch, smell and touch of what comes next.

Mousawald and Thacius sat across from each other in a new way that separated them as strangers again. “You better not stay with us too late then, well bore you and he needs to be up in the morning to move the heifers out”. Calling from the kitchen behind the curtain that only separated space not his connection he called out “what do you mean, they’re all in now?”. The subtle nurturing of their lovers dance replied through Mouswalds voice “tomorrow the calves need to get separated from their mothers so we don’t get what happened last year and lose the golden milk”, her words remind him back onto course “of course, and we are taking the bulls to town to get butchered” Kedar replied with an apology and assurance that his purpose will be met.

Thacius soaked in the warmth of masquerading arguments that bounced between Mouswald and Kedar. In their glow Thacius saw an entity inseparable, incomplete when not whole, and a radiance that gives the cold small cottage a kingdom that carries itself in their hearts. The warmth that Thacius soaked himself on followed with him to the house. Growing colder as he walked up the steps until it extinguished itself in his bed, rested only a walls distance away from his brother Bractus. A coldness in the flame separated Thacius from the house of the Sons of Illia once again. It was time that Thacius moved on. And so, he went on his way.

The Sons of Illia were gifted a house by their mother on an estate flanked by the wealth of the land. In their time the Sons built upon the soil with their will and a force so great that the Old World remembered them through the progression of time. The degree of change the brothers inflicted on the world stepped out in magnitude to history and love. In this moment, the Sons had neither. An isolation of man within that did not stand by the other. In this, Thacius walked towards the coastal harbour where before the fortune of the family came, they were no different to the sea. Lasting only a moment before breaking onto the shore. A voiceless note in the music of time.

The Sons of Illia were gifted a house by their mother on an estate flanked by the wealth of the land. In their time the Sons built upon the soil with their will and a force so great that the Old World remembered them through the progression of time. The degree of change the brothers inflicted on the world stepped out in magnitude to history and love. In this moment, the Sons had neither. An isolation of man within that did not stand by the other. In this, Thacius walked towards the coastal harbour where before the fortune of the family came, they were no different to the sea. Lasting only a moment before breaking onto the shore. A voiceless note in the music of time.