[NRP] Hazan & Melomar's Journal (173 views)

[melomar]

Solo 2: The little one said, “Roll over.”
Date: 26 November 2013 - 20 December 2013
Post/Word count: 1246
Notes: A prelude to Havard’s solo, Dream in Time.

SPOILER: Click to show

Like many a child of around ten or twelve, Hazan had taken a pokémon journey. Of course as one of the children blessed by the star of Jirachi, he seemed to be his own pokémon as much as he was his own trainer, so his precise status may forever be in question. Whatever the case, despite being accustomed to exploring his home territory, he had begun his journey in earnest, and with as much excitement as anyone of his age would have.

Throughout his travels, along the many trails and even unbroken wilderness, there had always been something in the back of his mind. Even though he encountered new places with wide eyes and open heart, loving every moment spent under the energizing sun, excited by every new discovery and seeking out new friends at every turn, it was always there. That someone was always there. And he hoped with each passing day that he might meet that someone just once more, if only for a moment.

In the early days, he had almost nervously, hopefully and brashly, even called out this name: Havard. But as time passed this energy, as he knew no other way to describe it, passed slowly into the recesses of his mind. It became just a vague hope, a goal, a wish. Even so, he held this name close to his heart, refusing to forget his wish in the off chance that it would finally come true. Havard was, after all, the first friend he had ever made outside of those whom he called family because they had raised him.

To say he felt no misgivings would have been a lie. He felt fear like any other person alone on a long journey might feel. His hope was like a good luck charm, a sense of peace and strength he could dwell upon when his troubles seemed too difficult or hopeless. He could pretend holding that energy in his hand and pressing it to his chest only to feel its warmth flooding through him, and his worries would fall away.

After many thrilling adventures, he began to feel strong and accomplished. He felt more independent, adult. He could handle anything. But at night when the shadows encroached, the warmth of the campfire could keep neither the cold away, nor the truth that he was still only a child. He would awaken with a jolt with that name on his lips: Havard.

But now that he had been reunited with his dearest friend, those intangible worries had all but disappeared, nearly forgotten. But tonight, that half-remembered state of mind welled up again, disturbing his dreams. Instead of the name filling the lonely one’s stormy dreams with rays of hope, the person’s voice pulled his peaceful unconsciousness off a sea of drifting sleep and onto the rocky shore wakefulness.

I am afraid.

Disoriented, Hazan sat up and realized that he had been lying within a warm and soft bed, not upon cool and unresisting earth. He was somewhere in the mountains, or rather, inside the mountains, not under a canopy of trees. He normally felt a little confined in any cave-like place, antsy to get out under the endless sky.

He almost jumped to the floor as sudden, intense fear crept up his spine. But the jumble of dread and suffocation that began to fill his being was not his own. Hazan.

“Havard?” Tossing his sheets aside, he left the room and hurried down the hall.

It was Havard’s norm to work until exhaustion overcame him. He was often found asleep across his keyboard, a steady stream of gibberish filling the screen. Sometimes he sat in a chair and slumped in an awkward, uncomfortable-looking position. And there were the times when he could be found, seated on the floor between two of the many rows of book cases, “reading” a book with his eyes closed.

Perhaps if the mewtwo child had any idea how defenseless he allowed himself to become, and so frequently at that, he would have been mortified beyond words. But Hazan was convinced that it was proof of how much Havard trusted the shiny chikorita lad. Or, as it sometimes occurred to him, spreading a lopsided grin across his face, perhaps Havard was merely careless and only Hazan had ever witnessed it because he was a hopelessly antisocial hermit who put on a misleading façade. It was difficult for Hazan to decide.

When he had found Havard in one of those situations earlier tonight, the mewtwo boy had flinched when Hazan touched his arm, but relaxed almost immediately. Docilely he had allowed himself to be tucked into bed under the other boy’s guiding hands. To the chikorita’s immense relief, while Hazan had become more accustomed to Havard’s enclosed living space, Havard had gotten used to the presence of another in his vicinity, and his expressions of surprise had become quite tame. This carefully hidden fortress in the mountains was gradually feeling like a home.

Hazan.

“Havard?”

Hazan!

The dark smudge of Havard’s supine form was barely discernable in the darkness. He was very still even as Hazan approached the other boy’s bed. “Havard?”

He stirred, muttered incoherently, and rolled over to face Hazan.

“Are you awake?” the chikorita boy asked, feeling a little foolish. Nevertheless, he reached out to his friend. Even if it was a nightmare, perhaps he could comfort him. He placed his hand over Havard’s, where it rested upon the blankets, and patted it gently. “It’ll be okay.”

That seemed to be enough; he could feel the other boy relax. He lifted his hand away from Havard’s and began to reach up to pat his head, but froze in surprise as he was restrained by the mewtwo-boy’s sudden grip around his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

“I wasn’t.” Hazan tested Havard’s grip, and while it had been forceful at first, was now quite limp. Hazan could pull away at any time if he wanted to. But he saw no reason to, and leaned closer to his friend.

“No…” Havard’s voice was just as soft and vaguely fearful as before. He did not pull away or flinch at any time when Hazan touched him. Hazan crouched down until they were eye-to-eye and face-to-face. Their close proximity should have unnerved Havard, but he responded not at all. He was dreaming still.

“Havard. I’m not going anywhere.” After a moment of consideration, he sighed a little and added, pushing the mewtwo’s shoulder lightly, “Move over.”

It was strange sharing the bed with Havard, but only because it was him. He had immediately rolled over but Hazan noticed that he had to be touching him at all times. His nightmares were gone and he appeared to sleep deeply once his tail had wrapped around Hazan’s ankle. Why would someone like Havard have nightmares? Was that common for him? For that matter, when was the last time Havard had made a conscious effort to sleep in an actual bed?

Hazan could guess the answers, but among them there would be no satisfying answer at all. He considered the alternative, confronting Havard about it. While that would make for a potentially frustrating conversation, he thought with a smirk, they didn’t really need words, did they?

The only problem, he realized as he drifted off to sleep, would come in the morning when he tried to explain why he was there at all. The correct reply would be a single word, and perhaps a shrug: “Nightmares.”

[melomar]

Interlude: Indulgence is Always a Mistake
Date: 8-10 June 2014
Word count: 315
Interaction with: Between Havard and Hazan

SPOILER: Click to show

Noticing the stacks of books around Havard's chair, Hazan asked, "Whatcha reading?"

Havard glanced up from one particularly large, gilded old book, took note of his place on the page, and closed it. Handing it over for Hazan to see, he replied, "The other day you mentioned a rumor about a shrine. Do you remember?"

Testing the weight of the book, Hazan nodded and opened it, skimming its contents. It was a book about pokémon mythology. "Three gods together have power over Nature. A team of archaeologists thought they had pinpointed a location of the old shrine to Landorus. They’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks."

"I gathered some reading material about it."

"Oh wow! All of these?" Hazan made a second pass over the stacks of books.

"Yes."

The shiny chikorita boy was always excited to explore new places, and this expedition to the shrine of Landorus sounded like a great learning experience. Thanks to Havard, he could read some of the lore in books in addition to word of mouth. In the end, Hazan was almost meant to be there.

The mewtwo would not join him, however. He wasn’t the “outdoorsy type.” He was always too busy to do great fun activities with Hazan, it was a shame, but no amount of pouting or stomping his foot would work. After all, Havard could pout and stamp his foot with far more elegance and soul-crushing gloom. His first experience with it had been an excruciating experience. This time, however, he had armed himself, determinedly squeezed his eyes shut and gave his friend a bear hug before setting off on his trip. Let him choke on that!

“I heard that.” Havard was not pouting, but his arms were crossed across his chest and he spoke with flat, dry humor.

“Ah!” Hazan chuckled hastily and waved over his shoulder. “I’ll call or write or something.”

Meta Event: Wrath of the Gods
Date: 7 June - 13 October 2014
Post count: ? ? ?
Interaction with: Good question
Link: here

[melomar]

Solo 3: Name Games
Date: 22 June 2020
Word count: 1371
Interaction with: Between Havard and Hazan

SPOILER: Click to show

Today was going to be a cascade of firsts for Hazan. Havard was to introduce Hazan to someone special, another god! Apparently Havard was friends with Jocosus the Heatran who had caused Matsutta Volcano to erupt out the side. Not only that, but Havard could carry Hazan to the site where the heatran lived-- by flying! He had not considered the possibility of Havard taking someone with him, though he knew he could, thanks to Koujen. That was how they met, when Havard dropped in from the sky with Koujen at his side. Now thinking back he realized his jealousy that Koujen had flown with him first.

Hazan was full of anxious excitement though and did not dwell on it. On one hand, meeting an archaeologically important figure would be a fascinating and important opportunity to learn about worship from the god's point of view. Did he really take offerings? What were his favorites? What was his feeling about pokémon worshiping pokémon? What about pokémon worshiping other gods? Did he consider himself a god? And then on the other hand, there were the What If's that plagued and interfered with his mind. What if's filled and tumbled around in his mind, over and over. He shook just a little. "What if he doesn't like me?"

"Relax. He may be powerful but he will not harm you."

Hazan nodded. Then he started. "What if I fall?"

"I will catch you."

"Okay." He reached for Havard and followed his lead. They held each other by the waist. Havard's ascent was gradual. Was it because of Hazan? What if he was too heavy? Or was Havard just trying to be gentle? What if! He needed to calm himself! He took a deep breath.

Once they had gained a certain altitude, Havard shot them through the air at a dizzying speed. Hazan watched Havard for a moment, whose face was set and focused on their trajectory. It was impossible to converse with all the air rushing past, so Hazan focused on the view. It was what one would expect. The trees were smaller, the pokémon tiny, rivers reduced to ribbons. But to Hazan it was beautiful and remote. He felt like he was on a minute island looking at the shore all around him, so close but too far to swim. And on that island, it was just him and Havard. He hugged the mewtwo boy more tightly and listened to the wind blowing past them.

- -

They had been seated in the shade on the grass chatting with the heatran, who sat in the sun, when a touchy subject came up. Hazan was glad he was just listening.

So yeu want tyo give yourseylf a name that has tyo dyo wiyth where yeu cayme from?

"I have considered the notion."

The heatran stepped closer. It was just a small step, but it sounded like a pile driver pounding the earth and grinding the rocks. Can I call yeu Petryie? Like a petyrie dish?

"Shut up, or I will kill you." Havard's face was, as always, deadpan but his brows seemed a little heavier.

How’s yit going, Petryie-boy? Jocosus snorted and roared.

This was the mountain god? How childish! Hazan was not sure what to think. He simply sat there and watched the two pokémon gods squabble, unable to speak even if he wanted to.

"Do I even need to mention that you were expelled from the earth like the contents of a huge pimple?" There was a long pause in which Jocosus did not move nor even breathe. Hazan turned to stare at Havard. The mewtwo's large violet eyes shone with unexpected intensity. "Angry?"

...Diyd yeu know that yeu were born from thye wrong tyube?

So, he wasn't pausing out of anger or annoyance, he was trying to find a good comeback? And Havard too? How could he behave this way? Did Jocosus simply bring the behavior out of him? Hazan's dismay was tangible somehow, like a massive weight upon his shoulders; or stifling air, and it had a flavor.

Hazan was starting to get a headache. They just continued, on and on. And then it escalated. Voices were raised and the ground began to shake. And people wonder are they really friends? Can they even consider themselves friends? Hazan flopped on his back in the grass. At least he could trust that he would come to no harm. Havard had guaranteed it. So he just listened while looking up at the undersides of tree leaves and at the bright blue sky.

- - -

After Havard and Hazan's return, the subject of names and surnames came up again. It seemed natural that Hazan would become part of the conversation. Havard was nursing a large bruise on his cheek and some very stiff muscles, but his mannerisms spoke of someone who was proud of himself. It was not as if he had won the insult contest, nobody did. But that was part of the fun.

A cursory glance would reveal a common sight strewn about on the floor with books piled high. But this time, books of names and surnames and dictionaries and thesauruses and books written in cryptic languages that were probably about names; they were all there. Havard had studied how to dissect a name to find its roots and discover their meaning. He had become obsessed with new names, surnames with meaning. Even ones with no known meaning he could get a general idea, or just a list of possible meanings. All of this, he had done before his meeting with Jocosus.

Hazan remembered 'Jocosus Matsutta,' and how his surname reflected the mountain he came from: Matsutta.

"Yes. He is the mountain. It is part of who he is." Havard paused, hands spread before him on the pages of an open book. "I've been thinking of adding a name, something to mean 'unnatural'..."

"Petrie? Like a petrie dish? Jocosus already suggested this and you did not favor it."

"No."

"Names have special meaning, but to change them is strange."

Havard tilted his head as he watched Hazan remain uncharacteristically resistant to the change. "Did you know that 'Hazan' is a feminine name? Does that bother you? What about using Hasan instead?" The name 'Hazan' was pronounced hay zin, but 'Hasan' was pronounced hah sahn.

"No. It is my name and has special meaning. I like the meaning." Hazan replied stubbornly. He sighed. "Look. To change it would change its meaning to me. It would be like changing your name to 'Harvard.' It’s not the same anymore." The name 'Havard' was pronounced hah vahrd, whereas 'Harvard' was pronounced hahr verd.

Havard’s eyes bugged out.

"You could change your name if it is meaningful to you. But I won't change mine." Hazan was firm on this. There was no way he would change something that had been given to him by his cherished family.

"Joy’s name is homage to his home and things that are still part of him." Havard looked down at the current volume, and the print between his fingers, thoughtfully.

"So, is the test tube still important to you? What is more meaningful?"

In the end, Havard kept his name the way it was. 'Havard' had never been in question to him; he had named himself after all. But he did not add on any names, either. His name meant guardian, and he was a guardian of pokémon, always. He did not think about it, he just did it, as it came natural to him when he was needed. The name was simple yet meaningful enough as it was.

However, he used the books to name the pokémon who needed one and whom had stayed with him after the ordeal with the Forces of Nature. So the research had not been completely in vain, even if the initial search had been over vanity.

But then his adopted pokémon found the books fascinating. In particular one they related to the name 'Havard'. When they decided to add on the surname 'Urd,' to their given names as a shortened version of his name, to mean of Havard, he was surprised and mystified. Did he really have so much meaning in their lives?

[melomar]

RP 01: Flight or Fight
Date: 20 January 2015 -
Post count: 1+
Interaction with: Dooma's Koujen
Link: here