Um suspiro pesado lhe deixara os lábios, não era nenhuma novidade que a fachada de agressividade a fosse mostrada e tão pouco que o outro se negasse a cooperar com qualquer que fosse as sugestões dadas para a sua enventual momentânea recuperação. ❝ — Ok. Let’s try it again, you’re going to go and shower. Then we’re going to eat something and then I can give you as many bottles as you like, but first you have to compose yourself. — ❞ Seus olhos finalmente tomaram a figura alheia em consideração seu peito se apertando pelo estado deplorável em que o moreno se encontrava. Parte de si sentia a culpa de ter o deixado assim, ainda que parte de sua mente calmamente a lembrava que as coisas não tinham seguido este exato caminho, ainda assim a culpa lhe corroía mais do que qualquer resquício da raiva que a consumiria nos derradeiros dias do relacionamento. ❝ — Listen, you’re not pretty fucking good. Actually you’re a mess. Look at yourself! You don’t even look like yourself. And you’re smelling like a roadside bathroom disguised with scotch and before you go all then leave If you don’t like It on me, let’s just get out of the way that I’m not leaving. So can you listen to me just this once? — ❞
— Who the fuck do you think you are? — Entoara em um desdém murmurado, despido de força, esquadrinhando-a desde seu rincão, o olhar perdido entre a desistência e despeito. Faltava-lhe a força advinda do ódio, uma real gana para o enfrentamento, permanecendo fraco frente à perpetuamente pulcra postura da superioridade moral que Sawyer sempre parecia sustentar sem qualquer esforço. Irava-o tal imagem. No entanto, não o suficiente como para que tecesse argumentos contra as ordens alheias. A contragosto, assentira, a destra percorrendo o rosto como se o gesto posse passível de desanuviar-lhe a visão. — I do look like myself. Perhaps you just never saw me for who I really am... except you did, once. And you did not like it at all. — Replicara, antes de puxar a própria camiseta e elevá-la à narina, inspirando brevemente. — It is not that bad. Not at all. I fucked you senseless while reeking far worse after working out or playing a whole set at some shitty music festival. So do not go all body odor sommelier on me now. Fuck, alright. I will listen, if that gets you to give me back my damn bottle. —
Sentada em seu carro com os olhos fechados e as mãos cobrindo a face Sawyer se perguntava mais uma vez quantas vezes mais seria capaz de fazer aquilo, quantas vezes mais seria necessário que mesmo diante de qualquer que fosse os caminhos que levavam àquele momento simplesmente diria a si mesma que não havia o que fazer além de engolir o próprio orgulho e fazer o que aparentava ser impossível para todos. Talvez um milhão de vezes fosse a resposta, ou infinitamente, entretanto a pior porção da própria retórica era justamente saber que faria não importava o que acontecesse, saber que sendo sua culpa ou não ainda sairia de seu confortável loft e rumaria até a casa do músico sem contestar quem fosse que tivesse lhe chamado pela décima vez perguntando se tinha tido notícias de Gabriel nos últimos dias. Passos lentos levavam-na para o quarto tão conhecido, os sons vindo do mesmo sendo a única certeza que tinha de que ao menos não entraria em uma cena de horror como já havia acontecido antes, lhe deixando pra trás a culpa e o remorso de não sentir ao menos uma luz de empatia ou alívio.
A porta do quarto foi aberta sem cerimônias e com a mesma falta de aviso Sawyer apenas se encostou no batente da porta evitando ao máximo deixar com que a cena fosse processada pela própria mente, a última coisa que Gabriel precisava era que seu rosto transparecesse nada além de pena. ❝ — Matt is sick worried about you… — ❞ Ainda que a própria preocupação não fosse evidente seu tom de voz era suave, longe do usual cansaço e julgamento que carregavam seu timbre quando lidando com qualquer um que lhe colocasse em uma posição como aquela. Seus olhos se desviaram da figura pálida para que pudesse desvincular a imagem do momento, sem notar seu corpo se moveu para frente quase que em automático alcançando a garrafa cheia de qualquer que fosse a bebida da vez que o Weiland estivesse prestes a consumir. ❝ — You should shower, I’m going to clean up the mess you made out of this place and we’re going to have dinner, is that alright for you? — ❞
A POUCA LUZ ADVINDA DA PORTA ENTREABERTA AGREDIA-LHE OS OLHOS AFEITOS À ESCURIDADE, mesmo que poucos de seus feixes ainda fossem bem vistos na forma de imagens. Respirando fundo, dera passos para trás, como se apenas ser iluminado fosse queimar-lhe a pele, qual as mais antigas lendas de criaturas noturnas condenadas a repelir o claro. SUspirara, ao reconhecer a voz, reprimindo todo impulso de arrependimento que aflorava em si, ardendo em busca de perdão. Enquanto a mente ansiava por atirar-se aos pés de Sawyer, clamando penitência por todos os erros acometidos, o corpo apartava-se, as feições por sua vez contorcidas em amargor, acompanhadas por um longo suspiro de exaustão, como se já estivesse desistindo de uma discussão que sequer iniciara. — Matt can go fuck himself with a piece of glass, for all I care. — Replicara, em uma monotonia tão despida de agressividade que contrariava as palavras ditas. — I don’t feel like it. I’m pretty fucking good right now. That is not alright for me. I want you to give me the bottle and leave me alone. —
RASTROS DE DESORDEM ADORNAVAM O QUARTO QUASE VAZIO, refletindo o estado mental de Gabriel. Já há três dias recusava-se a abandonar a cama para outra coisa que não fosse resgatar uma nova garrafa de aguardente, havendo esquecido mesmo o entusiasmo de acender-se com linhas do pó branco que lhe fizera vontade de viver nas últimas semanas. Mais uma vez, como tantas outras, contemplava a existência qual tormento, perdido em fantasias donde flertava com lâminas, cordas e uma seringa de uso único. Desleixado como nunca e, sobretudo, desesperançoso, reconhecia haver fodido tudo. E arrependia-se. Arrependia-se de haver descartado alguém a quem amava. Arrependia-se de todas as horríveis palavras que havia dito. Arrependia-se do próprio egoísmo, da facilidade com a qual destruíra tudo, simplesmente para não admitir estar errado. Arrependia-se, amarga e profundamente. Mas não o diria em voz alta.
Cheirava a álcool, suor e sal de lágrimas. Ou talvez fedia fosse o termo correto. Em sua soledade, no entanto, sequer percebia. Entre o choro silencioso e o simulado abraço para confortar o próprio corpo, pouca relevância detinha o perfume. Um horrendo soluço abandonara a própria garganta, ecoando pelo cômodo. Pouco disposto a enfrentar a própria miséria, sentara-se. Pálido e enfermiço, grato era por não ver a si mesmo. E em um novo gesto de quem clama por socorro sem realmente desejá-lo, abandonara a cama. Mais uma vez, em busca de uma nova garrafa cujo fundo almejava encontrar. Até que se perdesse por completo. Um ciclo mais do que vicioso.
Drinking Buddies é um projeto independente que busca compreender artistas de maneira intimista sem recorrer ao escândalo e à invasão desrespeitosa, propondo-se à outorgar um espaço para justificativas, diálogos sinceros e correntes. Usualmente regada por bons vinhos — embora existam outras opções para convidados abstêmios — a entrevista consiste em um ritmo de conversa entre velhos conhecidos, sem tempo previamente definido ou obrigatoriedade de resposta. Detalhes de vida pessoal e a tão pública carreira se sobrepõem, criando uma nova perspectiva de indivíduos sob a constante pressão dos holofotes, humanizando-os.
TRANSCRIPT OF THE HIGHLIGHTS: Entrevistada da semana Abbadon de Rosas, inte e três anos, cantora e atriz. (@mosquinhainthewall)
So, not to be that kind of guy, but I feel like to know you personally, we should brush over your personal life. And that includes past relationships.Despite having dated a couple celebrities, I think your most recent and most high-profile partner was that one guy. So... you have dated the butcher. Girl, what the hell was it like?
A: It was like a roller-coaster ride, you get in very excited and you get scared halfway through, you scream a lot, you get your heart racing and you leave that shit shaking and wanting to puke for your own bad decisions and still wanting to do It again. It's fucking nuts, because he's a really charming person and he can really make you fall in love like right off the bat, but the guy is also an asshole who has a lot of issues and there is a point that people just can't take It anymore, the whole sex, drugs and rock n' roll It's too real to be good and It's fucking awful to see. He's good in bed, tho, I have to give him that. When he's not passing out drunk, he's a great boyfriend.
That was... wow. I think this has been the first time you have been so open about this, so I'm kinda honored. I think the glamorization of all those issues associated with success and music in the rock scene is very unnecessary. You can have hits and put out great work without falling into the cliché of the supposed demons that come with it all. I might be on the wrong here, but I don't think you necessarily have to sign a deal with the devil to make it. I can only imagine things got heated in a bad way, because such problems must have taken it's toll on you. And yet, you were together for a surprisingly long time. Not at once, of course, but you had that on and off again relationship. I assume it can be exhausting, emotionally speaking, at least. How did you cope? And why did you stay in on it so long? I mean, it sounds kinda toxic. And as you highlighted it, I assume the drinking was a major problem... how did you deal with it?
A: It's because everything already went to hell, so fuck It. He's going to be pissed off at me anyway, so might as well just say it for once. I'm not going to bash on him for that, there's a lot of fucked up shit going on and that has happened before that makes the whole thing make sense, but like there are other things that just make everyone around him be in a constant state of alert and It's tiring. Yeah, I'm not the easiest person to deal either, but like, even I got limits. Well, that's the thing, like when you love someone as much as I love him you don't want to admit that you can't help and that the whole thing is becoming something that's eating you alive, you don't want to say ‘enough’ because that means giving up, that means putting your feelings above someone else’s needs, but sometimes we have to. It wasn’t toxic and I know It sounds like something someone in a toxic relationship would say, but the thing about Dragan is that everyone thinks that he is the "butcher" for things that he's done to others when in reality the only person he's hurting is himself, he just doesn't see nor understand how that can affect people around him. It's fucked up? Totally, I won't deny it that it got to the point where my parents stepped in and where like 'maybe you should spend some time in Argentina and just step back' but it wasn’t like a toxic or abusive thing where I didn't knew what I was doing. I don't think I dealt with that, because, like, there's no stopping someone with a drinking problem, they won't just put the bottle down and listen, you just have to be there and try to make them see and, well, take care of them after.
So, tiring, you say? Why is it tiring? What is tiring? What happened, if I might inquire. Well, if we really analyze it, no one is actually easy to deal with. We are complex beings with even more complex emotions, so I guess the best we do is just try and navigate feelings and situations in the less crappy way possible. But sometimes, we are driven to the extreme and that makes it very hard to take control of certain situations. I guess what I'm trying to say is that mental health sometimes requires a little bit of what might seem like selfishness, but it's actually not. I mean, you can be empathetic and sympathetic, compassionate even, but people shouldn't expect you to put your needs aside all the time just to think about others. In order to actually be helpful, you must be in a good place about your own feelings, so it doesn't become a vicious cycle of resentment and problematic situations, you know? So I get what you're saying. Besides, if we really weigh things... you're pretty young. Not a kid, of course, but rather young when compared to him. You shouldn't put your health and your youth aside to try and nurse a dysfunctional adult back to good shape while wasting yourself in the process. Love is as much about letting go as it is about being there for someone else. So if you say it wasn't toxic, I believe you. As an outsider, I might not have the full picture, so I can't step in and say you're wrong about how you see the things you went through. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been, to watch someone dear slowly waste away, you know? I guess with alcohol and any other addictions, really, it’s kinda complicated to make the person see how damaging that habit is. I guess they don't see themselves in bad shape. I think at this point, it's only fair to assume you saw the worst of it, as you said you took care of him during his drunken haze. How was it for you? Where did you get the strength to do it?
A: The whole thing, I guess. Because you're constantly thinking if that person is going to do stupid shit because he's high or If he's high because he's about to go into a depressive episode, and the later it’s not really his fault, you can't really blame someone for, like, trying to cope and just kill what's killing them, but for someone who's around and who's emotionally involved in that process, not knowing can be tiring. I don't think really the age It's a factor, I've been in Hollywood for so long that I can tell you that having a relationship with someone I loved, fucked up or not, was the least of the things I did that can be put out as wasting myself. I'm really afraid that I haven’t seen the worst, because If that's true then it's really even more of a risk and it just breaks my heart. I have no Idea, never thought about It. And I'm being totally honest right now when I say I really didn't gave that much of a though on that when It was happening, because It's easier that way.
Yeah, I hear you. You did start on this business at a very young age, and had your share of trouble, with your image and your habits and all that pressure over your shoulders. You coming out on top of that situation and standing in a brighter and more hopeful place is kind of an statement that you can get out of harms way. But having been there, at rock bottom might have given you a different perspective in that whole situation. Tell me... did your experiences made ir more difficult to be involved in it? I mean, I can only imagine you must have felt dragged back into something you were just getting out of. Also, I would like to reinforce that any questions that make you feel uncomfortable, just give me a heads up and we'll move on. This a conversation and in no way I would like to seem intrusive. And on a brighter note... let's be a little intrusive, as well, because I'm simply human and I am curious in an almost voyeuristic way... how were the good times like?
A: Very young. I was a baby And it's not just that, when you're in Hollywood everyone that is around ends up affecting how people see you, like, I was 17 going into rehab for a sex addiction that I didn't have because people around me had a problem and everyone thought that I had a problem too, then. I would like to say that it made it easier, but I think that It definitely was difficult, it brings a certain anxiety every time shit goes down. But I didn't felt dragged, that's actually really a point, people often think that he was, like, a bad influence, like, making me do drugs or other stuff, when he wasn’t, he was very against people taking drugs and getting pissed drunk. A little hypocrite? Of course. Don't worry, I'm fine for now, I think It's the wine. And... it was great. As I said, roller-coaster, when you're on the top It's just the best feeling ever and he was a really sweet person.
I wouldn't say hypocrisy, I kinda get it. I mean, real friends wouldn't offer you drugs, and as a drug addict, it makes sense that he knows how dependent you get on those things and not wanting people he cares about to end up in the same situation. I have a friend who struggled once with addiction and he used to say that very same thing: people who care about you will never want you to go down on the same path as them, because they know how hard addiction gets and no matter how good the rush, it’s just not worth bringing loved ones down. I mean, junkies still harm people they care about, even though in a different way, but I guess in their thought process, it makes perfect sense to make that kind of damage control. Oh, it's good wine, I'm getting kinda tipsy as well. So, that's difficult for me: seeing him as a sweet person. With all the troubles you went through, I have no problems actually imagining you as very nice. And to be honest, I'm delighted to see that you actually are. When it comes to Dragan, however, it's nearly impossible for me to look at him an think 'oh, there goes a nice dude'. I guess it must have something to do with how he is usually pictured in the media but, to be honest, he kinda paints those images himself, with all the reckless behavior, the aggression and the sexual scandals... and his infamous birthday party, of course. I can only assume that must have been another complication, since he is very evasive and closed off to the point of getting violent, whereas you're really open about most things. Did it cause some clash of opinions? How did you manage the public image issues?
A: I get It, I really do, but it's hard not get angry towards It when the person Is getting angry saying that he doesn’t have a problem and then be like 'Yeah, but you can't do this or that because then you will have a problem', It just makes you sigh and go like ’oh, please, just don't’. But he is. He is lovely when he's not having cameras shoved on his face. Well, thank you, It's good to know that I'm not being mean, people tend to say that I look mean. It's just... he tries really hard coming off as not caring and sometimes he can be an asshole, I mean it, the biggest asshole of all, but most of the time he is this great guy that even when you say shit will just help you anyway and try to be kind. And he has the best date ideas and getting away landscapes. A lot. But It is just another thing that we worked around, like I don't mind paparazzis, but he does, so I know that I'm not dragging him to, like, Four Seasons or whatever when I know It's going to cause him anxiety. And It's just common sense I guess.
Well, the people who say you're mean clearly haven't made the smallest effort to actually know you. And don't worry, if I come off as flirty, let me warn you that I am very much gay. So I'm totally not hitting on you now. I guess having a personality and standing up for yourself might come off as mean nowadays, buck fuck people who say that, honestly. I mean... still hard to believe, even with you saying he is nice and all that, I still have a hard time believing he would not try to get me killed for posting this interview, you know? You said it yourself: he'll most likely get angry, and publicly, that doesn't tend to end up well. Getting dark here again, so I'll try to mix things up. Still relationship wise, I have to ask: sex stuff. How was it? Don't judge me, you've seen the butcher and I speak for the people saying I would like to know how was that.
A: Oh, thank you! Well, don't worry, I'm used to coming off as flirty, I know how It's like. I have a friend If you're single, I'm trying to set him up with someone with actual decency. He's not, maybe he'll say something about It If asked and It might get a little heavy, but like It's only because as you said, he is very closed off...And It isn’t your fault, the most likely one to end up with the fault It's me, preach. Oh... I've seen the butcher, alright. You know when people tell you that someone is really good at bed and has a big dick and you don't believe them and then you find out it's actually better and bigger? That's how It was like.
Oh, if you're talking about your co-star, we know you two dislike each other and we'll talk about that in the next section of the interview. If not, thanks anyway, but I have been happily married for a couple years now. God, this is getting racy. I won't even ask anymore because we have to keep things at a bare minimum not safe for work. But well, I guess now the internet would be driven wild: theories that the butcher has a big dick have been confirmed first-hand by his ex-girlfriend. On that note... You've seen the butcher. Not the naked man, the song. Some people say it's about you. Some people speculate many of the songs he wrote are about you, which is an interesting thing to say, since the man can get really poetic. I mean, at least lyrically, he is very versatile, being able to write the most sexual things one minute and switch to the most deep and depressing words the other. I guess what I'm trying to say... can you confirm or deny you're the subject in that piece of music? Because said theory also sparked rumors that you two have been a thing longer than the public eye knows, with some even daring to say he started a physical relationship with you before you were a legal adult, which is controversial, to say the least. I really have no formed opinion on this, since those comments came after a few interpretations of the song, which can be a little absurd, with some claiming is about taking a girl's virginity (said girl would be you, in their version of the facts), some saying it's just about sex with no deeper meaning and some more radical individuals claiming is about a serial killer.
A: No, I'm not talking about Florian, and he doesn’t dislike me, he hates me. Oh, that's cute, my parents are happily married for so long that I'm sometimes ashamed that I don't have a long-lasting relationship. Well, I can assure you that things only get more NSFW, so It's better not to ask... I don't know about that, like, he never told me anything about writiing for me, so I can't really be that much of a helping hand on this matter, but the whole underage thing is not true. I will let recorded for further actions that I did not slept with Dragan while I was underage, you can rest now internet avengers. And I do think It's about sex with no deeper meaning, but I don't know, I didn't wrote it. How that fuck is that about a serial killer? That doesn’t even make sense! That song is clearly about sex. Like the other song that it's about oral sex, there's no deeper thing, that's it. It's about sex.
I don’t wanna drown in you I’m sinking, then I’m torn in two so when you see me come up for air son’t try to hold me down, just (( save )) me now don’t let me drown in you
❝ — Why not? Did the gods told you not to tell anyone? Because that’s suspicious, that’s weird. Interesting, well, the goddness says it’s taken care of, so maybe it’s taken care of, you’ll find it out tonight when you met her for dinner. Wedding ring? No. That actuallly comes as a suprise to me, when they sent me in there you didn’t had anything on you other than your clothes. I’ll, however, look into that with the girls who broght you inside. I’m sure that they must have put away somwhere safe if it’s with them. Sorry about that, If I knew it I would have recovered it before you woke up. So…Your wife, or husband, what is their name? ❞
— Do the gods ever simply give you an order? I’d rather say they threatened me. But yes, let’s say that’s the reason why I can’t talk about it. Let’s put it this way: I have a deal, And my end of it consists on going through with the task and keeping my mouth shut about it. So that’s exactly what I’m doing. — Enervavam-no as esquivas réplicas e explanações ofertadas, cada palavra dita apenas contribuindo à confusão e consequente senso de ser mantido na escuridão. Pois assim sentia-se: submerso em um mar de águas opacas, impassível de entrever mesmo dois palmos defronte. E sufocava-no, a ideia de trevas absolutas, bem como a ausência de estrelas. A destra fora levada à testa, os dígitos pressionando a carne delgada sobre o osso frontal do crânio, como se tal gesto fosse capa de cessar a vertigem que ameaça com iniciar. Assim, em silêncio, começara a remover as próprias roupas, vagarosamente e ainda sentado no chão. As águas, afinal, haveriam de ajudá-lo. — I highly doubt the enchantress might have carried on with what I was supposed to do. It was a pretty specific mission. And do I have to attend said dinner? Everyone knows it’s not safe to take food Circe offers... — Murmurara, levantando-se vagarosamente, rumando a orla com passos tão lentos quanto. — And if that’s not asking much, I’d appreciate it. That ring is very special to me, as you might imagine. Henrietta. It makes my heart ache just saying it out loud while unable to go back. She thinks I’m dead. —
Ter que cancelar planos no último minuto não era bem do agrado de Abbadon, especialmente quando tinha passado horas se arrumando para dito compromisso, muito menos quando se tratava da primeira vez em meses que realmente tinha se animado para fazer qualquer coisa que não envolvesse apenas ficar em casa falando mal de alguém com os amigos e bebendo ou então quase destruir sua própria carreira com escândalos que sua agente tinha dores de cabeça apenas de imaginar acontecendo, mas é claro que algumas vezes a vida lhe apresentava uma tremenda falta de opção e eram momentos como aquele que faziam com que Abbadon chegasse ao ponto em que estava. Parada - pronta para sair mesmo sabendo que aquilo ou iria demorar ou então iria drenar toda sua vontade de sair de casa - na entrada de sua própria sala de estar encarando o ex-namorado que apenas tinha se convidado para entrar e sentado no sofá e ainda não havia proferido em voz alta o que exatamente estava fazendo ali. Em sua mente a morena tentava conjurar qualquer coisa que tivesse feito de errado nos últimos meses ou que tivesse dito em público - ou privado - que fosse de alguma maneira afetar negativamente o baterista ou trazê-lo ali e cada vez mais o pânico e a paranoia cresciam ao não encontrar nada especifico. ❝ — So…Are you going to tell me what are you doing here or you rather stay there doing nothing? ❞ As palavras saíram em tom cauteloso, ainda que visivelmente estivesse um pouco irritada com a intromissão alheia, a última coisa que desejava era começar uma briga e o que quer que Dragan tivesse vindo fazer ali, com toda certeza não poderia acabar bem. Nunca acabava. ❝ — Can I offer you anything? Water? Juice? …Whisky? A ride home perhaps? ❞
O SORRISO EXPRESSADO NÃO TRANSPASSAVA O SUPERFICIAL, como lhe era de hábito, senão que unia-se ao olhar despido de brilho, dando forma à expressão de falsa tranquilidade que adornava o semblante de Dragan. Quer fossem os olhos injetados em sangue ou a incomodidade denotada pelos maneirismos — as unhas a rascunhar com insistência o grosso tecido cicatricial do antebraço direito e a perna irrequieta — era explícito seu mau estado, porcamente velado por sob a falsa projeção de displicência. Desde a distância de seu assento, a observava com embriagada atenção, manifestando uma carência quase infantil. Ousasse se levantar e, certamente, lhe falharia o equilíbrio. Assim, limitara-se a mudar a posição no sofá. — I came to see you. ‘Cause I miss you like hell, despite you driving me crazy half the time. Don’t you miss me too? And the booze would be fucking great right now, so I’ll accept your offer. I also want to be around you, so why don’t you come here and sit with me, so we can talk shit without even noticing as the hours go by, just like old times? I promise I’ll be a fucking gentleman and all that crap... unless you don’t want me to. —
❝ — This one looks a little prettier than some of your others, I can tell you that much. I’m, I mean…It would be bad for me if you did died, but since you’re telling me you won’t, I’ll belive in you this time. That would help, indeed, I think… ❞ Os pés tocaram a água e alguns tantos passos foram necessários para que todo o corpo fosse submerso nas águas cristalinas nas partes mais fundas do lago, havia uma necessidade que aos poucos era apaziguada enquanto nadava e novamente sentia-se revigorada e em paz, quase em união com a ilha, mas mesmo com isto e mesmo estando em seu local de solidez preferido, ainda havia no fundo de sua mente o fato de que não estava sozinha e que não estava cumprindo seu dever. Com um pesado suspiro Abbadon voltou as partes rasas pisando nas pedras com cuidado antes de se escorar em uma das maiores. ❝ — The mission that you were trying to complete before ending up here…What it was? ❞
REMOVIDO DE SEUS DEVANEIOS PELA CURIOSA VOZ, não pudera evitar observar sua dona, com explícito fascínio. Sob o pálido tecido molhado, descansando diretamente contra a pele, parecia toda uma visão divina. A figura era assistida quase com desvelo, os olhos tardando alguns segundos para serem desviados dos quadris alheios, com uma esquiva pouco discreta seguida por uma tosse forçada. — I can’t really talk about that with you. Or anyone, really. I am only allowed to say it was important. And that’s why I’m so eager to leave this island and finish it. I was wondering... do you know what happened to my wedding ring? —
❝ — No, it’s a primordial goddness blessing and domain. I think she can handle you for a little bit. Well…It’s bad, really bad. I did my best, but I still think it will leave some scars, I couldn’t let you sleeping on your side because of your ribs and well…It’s bad, let’s just leave like that. I know, but it’s a calm and not so deep lake. Well, as you wish. It’s hard to pretend you’re not here because I will be looking straight at you and I have to keep an eye out to make sure you won’t just drop dead and everyone gets pissed off at me for taking a swim while you choke on your blood. ❞
UM SORRISO TOMADO POR MELANCOLIA SURGIRA, o olhar pousado no horizonte, tomado por um pesar análogo ao da boca. Subitamente, um passado mui recente lhe parecia inalcançável, e a menção da morte apenas trazia a imagem de alguém cujos braços ainda podia sentir em torno ao corpo gelado. Não evitara direcionar os olhos à mão esquerda, notando com certa suspeição a ausência da fina faixa dourada que costumava rodear-lhe o dedo anelar. Trás alguns segundos de silêncio contemplativo, manifestara-se, o tom distante perceptível nas palavras ditas. — Just a new scar, then, in a full collection of old ones. Trust me, I’m not worried about that. And I won’t die. That much I can assure you. Enjoy your swim peacefully. I have nowhere to run, I can’t really run and death won’t be coming upon me anytime soon. If it helps, I’ll stay silent.—
❝ — Yes, it is… ❞ Com os olhos fechados deixava-se por absorver a sensação de calor vinda do sol e o conforto da paz que o local lhe trazia. ❝ — Both, I guess…It has a metaphorical way, but I was talking about the literal way, the water has healing proprieties due to Talassa’s blessing, it’s okay if you don’t want to take off your clothes, I can dry them later, just come on. ❞ Com cuidado Abbadon se aproximou oferecendo as mãos, mesmo sabendo que poderia se machucar com o ato. ❝ — Let me help you get in the water, I promise you, you won’t regret it. ❞
— Wouldn’t I spoil the lake, with the death gift? And how bad exactly is the thing in my back? Does it really need the blessed thing to heal? Because as I said, I’m not really comfortable with the idea of going into water. As you might imagine, it has a lot to do with the fact that I drowned, so... why don’t you just go in, I’ll rest for a little while and then I’ll follow? I’ll even take my clothes off so you don’t have to dry them off. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to be with me. You’ll even have some time to pretend I am not even here. —
❝ — Thank you, I try to be honestly true to my feelings towards strangers. Keeps them humble. Oh, I already saw you naked, don’t worry, I trust and agree when you say there’s nothing to do with shame. ❞ Com passos apressados Abbadon seguiu o mais alto, as mãos não tocando realmente o corpo alheio, mas definitivamente posicionadas como para auxílio caso este viesse a cair ou sentir alguma necessidade de apoio. ❝ — Do you need a cane? Or maybe a wheelchair? I would offer for you to take support on me, but that would be very problematic and nothing pratical, you would probably hurt your back too. Well, the goddness is busy, but she’ll join everyone for dinner, so let’s just kill some time and get you out in the sun for a while before you can go meet her and maybe she’ll even answer your doubts. I’m sure she’ll understand your impatience much more than I do. Don’t worry, I won’t lead you to any deadly traps, I’m simply wanting to take you on a nice walk in fresh air, you can punish me for the good deed with your unsolicited opinions. I’ll take you to the lake, I have a feeling that you might enjoy it and it even may heal your wounds a litte. ❞
— No, I can walk just fine, just lead the way and I’ll be right behind you... or in this case, beside you. —
[...]
TRÁS UMA CAMINHADA NÃO TÃO BREVE, dada a lentidão e inabilidade dos próprios passos, finalmente alcançaram a clareira situada a poucos metros do mencionado lago. Embora percebesse a beleza do entorno, era incapaz de realmente desfrutá-la, o próprio foco estando quase que exclusivamente destinado às dores que acometiam-no. Sem tardar, permitira-se cair sobre os próprios joelhos. Vagarosamente acomodando-se sentado sobre a grama que, parcimoniosamente, adquiria uma tonalidade doentia e cinzenta sob o corpo do homem. — Well, it’s a nice place... peaceful, even. But I’m not really feeling the water thing, you know? You said something about wound healing... did you mean it in a metaphorical or literal way? —
❝ — Oh, don’t worry I have came to that conclusion that you’re indeed a jerk since you opened your eyes. ❞ Dentre todos os visitantes da ilha em todos os anos a qual estava presa à gratidão eterna que devia a Circe aquele homem era definitivamente o único que tinha lhe causado tamanho sentimento de desconforto e irritação sem precisar de fato qualquer mínimo esforço que não fosse simplesmente ser ele mesmo. ❝ — Why would it be disrespectful? Is just a body. Nothing to be ashamed of for you or others. ❞ Havia uma sinceridade suave em suas palavras, uma diferença notável da forma como falava, não queria parecer que estava tentando afagar o ego de ninguém, mas sua preocupação diante do conforto de todos acerca do que poderiam encontrar na ilha era real. No final das contas esperava que nudez não fosse um problema para o moreno, já que a maior parte de seus companheiros tinha escolhido uma forma disto e a maior parte das feiticeiras optava pela liberdade que a falta de cobertura ou pelo menos tecidos leves podiam proporcionar. ❝ — Where do you want to go? We have a lake, we have a forest, we have a beautiful cliff where you can see the whole island, also the beach and the meadow. I can also take you to know our halls, the choice is yours, I’m only going to serve as a guide for wherever you wish to. ❞
— Well, for someone so needlessly hostile, you’re very sincere. I’ll give you that. It would be disrespectful to force my nakedness upon others without any spoken consent. I am the outsider, after all, so I have no knowledge whatsoever of how your enclosed society functions. The least I can do is try and be... private. It has nothing to do with shame, trust me. — Replicara, rumando com curtos passos à porta que lhe havia sido mostrada tantas vezes ao longo da conversa. — Well, I have no fucking clue about anything regarding this island, despite your brief description that sounds like literally any other island ever. Were I to be honest, and my immediate answer would be that I would like to see Circe. However, I am pretty sure that’s a long shot. So... I’ll simply go wherever you want me to go. You’re the one who knows your way around this place. So I’ll just follow you, in blind faith. How stupid of me, but what can I do? Doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice. —
❝ — You know, one of those people who say they are honest and use that as a excuse for the poor behavior, so they are rude and disrespectful towards people’s belives or simply towards everything and when someone says they are rude and an assholes they go ‘Oh, not, I’m honesty, that’s my gift’. Like, no, sit down, Dave, you’re a jerk. ❞ Os olhos foram novamente rolados, dessa vez com mais irritação, Abbadon não via a hora de ter o outro totalmente curado para que seus cuidados fossem passados para outra pessoa. ❝ — No, I’m your nurse and doctor. Your guard is going to be another person if necessary to keep you here after I’m done with you, which I think it won’t. As soon as you get better the goddness will send you away since there’s no use for you. I’m not turning you into a problem, stop getting defensive about everything I say, I was simply making a statement. And if you want to be a problem, then so be it, just do it under the care of another, I have nothing to do with whatever big scheme you think that is happening here and if there is one, I don’t have interest in being a part of it. I don’t think that would matter to no one, but since you’re shy.❞ O corpo foi desencostado da parede e com calma Abbadon se dirigiu até um dos armários pegando as roupas limpas e dobradas que se assemelhavam àquelas nas quais Dragan tinha chegado até a ilha. ❝ — Here. This will fit. Do you need help putting them on? I can call someone. ❞
— Yeah, I would actually say I’m not purposefully rude. But I can be quite straightforward with things, and that might be seen as rudeness, sometimes. I do tend to apologize if i realize my actions are being perceived badly, however. When I say I am honest, I mean it just like that, plain and simple. Honesty and a bad behavior have nothing to do with one another. Still, if you wanna call me a jerk... you wouldn’t be wrong. — A extenuação pela conversa fora expressada por intermédio de um longo suspiro, que pouco fizera por cessar o descômodo existente. Talvez fosse a soma de todos os fatos o principal fator responsável por tornar tão difícil a criação de qualquer tolerância pela jovem, no entanto, tal tarefa lhe parecia impossível. Em todos os anos vividos — e em ambas vidas — jamais havia encontrado alguém por quem nutrisse tamanha e tão irremediável antipatia. Tivesse os meios, e desaparecia sob a terra, não como um meio de evadir a ilha mas sim como uma maneira de evitar a voz estridente e os comentários ácidos proferidos pela aprendiz da feiticeira. — I don’t want to be a problem, and I am not being defensive. What I did was state that, unless you give me reason to be a problem, I won’t do so. But whatever. I am not shy, I simply think it’s a matter of common decency. I don’t want to disrespect anyone by walking around in such a state of undress. And I don’t think I need help, but thanks. — Replicara, estendendo uma das mãos à parede para levantar-se. Alguns segundos foram necessários para alcançar certo equilíbrio, apenas então tomando em mãos as roupas que lhe eram estendidas. Dada a dor e o conjunto um tanto complexo de lesões, certa lentidão cabia ao ato tão simples de vestir-se. Peça a peça, tomara o próprio tempo para por fim deixar o estado de nudez, percebendo o crescimento da raiva em si pela vulnerabilidade. Não era a primeira vez que terminava em um mau estado, no entanto, tamanhas sequelas eram inéditas em seu longo histórico. Não lograra evitar o nascimento de pequenas paranoias, chegando a considerar a possibilidade de estar sendo envenenado. Circe, afinal, era conhecida por suas artimanhas. E não seria insólito descobrir haver-se tornado sua mais nova vítima. — So... where should I go? — Questionara, tornando a observar Abbadon.
❝ — Oh. So you’re one of those people. I do agree on that, aceppting your fate must be the smartest choice, specially as a demigod since the gods tend to have a liking in playing with our kind instead of just chopping our heads off when they get angry. ❞ Naquele momento havia quase uma certeza de que aquilo era uma punição, de alguma maneira tinha irritado a deusa suficientemente para que ela lhe encarregasse da pior pessoa entre aqueles que estavam a bordo do navio naufragado. Ela poderia contar mentalmente todas as garotas que seriam muito mais adequadas para aquele tipo de personalidade e que se adaptariam muito mais facilmente a irritação presente constantemente toda vez que a boca do filho de Tanatos se abria. ❝ — All words are empty concepts, that’s why they are words, not actions. I belive in you when you say all of that, I just don’t care. Well, I care about your health since you were put under my watch and care while you’re ill, but other than that? It’s quite clearly that you and I are most likely to get into a fight than engange in a friendly conversation, be my guest to be as reluctant as you want, but that will only steal you time, not give it since I need to heal your wounds. I’m starting to wish that you were still in coma. Maybe we thought that you weren’t going to be a problem, since no one else was, but maybe we were wrong. I said harmless, not defenseless, harmless only means I won’t stab you just because I want to, but if you try something I will fight, of course. As you wish, Dag. Beautiful name. Would you like to go outside? I’m sure I can find a way to help you with that, are you hungry? ❞
— It depends, Abbadon. What do you mean by those people? — Preso nas próprias reflexões, dera pouca importância e atenção às palavras proferidas pela moça. Não que os ouvidos não captassem as palavras ditas de maneira quase contundente, no entanto, encontrava-se em um estado em que era completamente incapaz de realmente considerar o peso das sentenças de outrem. Destarte, dera de ombros, satisfeito com a conclusão de incompatibilidade exposta pela mulher. — Of course. It’s a good thing, then, that we are not actively trying to be friends. Or even colleagues, for that matter. I’m a prisoner, you’re my guard and that’s the extent of our interaction. I understand you have to tend to me against your wishes, so don’t worry, I’m not forming any wrong ideas here. Still, my position stands. I am not compliant or courteous, and I think you understand that just as well as I understand your position. Trust me, I wish I was still in a coma. Because that would mean I wouldn’t have to actively deal with this situation. If your people don’t want me to be a problem, then you simply shouldn’t turn me into one. I won’t do anything with no motive, I can assure you. So how this ends is entirely up to you. Alright then, harmless girl. Still not trusting you regarding that, but whatever. And I would like to go outside, yes. But I think clothes are a more urgent matter, since it doesn’t seem right for me to walk around the Island with nothing but these sheets covering my body. —
❝ — Your mother surely knew what she was talking about, but she should have thaught you how to watch that mouth. People don’t need to touch you to cause great harm on you, besides, you’re being ungrateful. ❞ Havia uma ponta de divertimento na voz de Abbadon, só uma oscilação entre as palavras rudes banhadas em verdades milenares e conjunturas ensaiadas que eram proferidas quase que anualmente quando barcos acabavam de alguma maneira se destroçando contra as pedras da ilha, fosse por má sorte, tédio da feiticeira ou apenas por maldições rogadas pelos deuses dos mares. ❝ — Don’t worry about that, it will heal faster than your wounds. And it’s a quite interisting gift, one that makes you quite hard to deal with, I imagine. I wonder how lonely can be to know that death itself can be brought up with your touch even for the things you admire the most. Unless, of course, death is the one that you truly want to serve. No judgments. ❞ Os dedos foram cruzados no ar como se fizesse uma promessa acerca de manter seus julgamentos a 0, ainda que tivesse certeza que era uma promessa que quebraria o mais rápido possível, ela era conhecida por julgar rápido e por não recuar em suas palavras e pensamentos, mesmo quando estupidamente errada. ❝ — Careful. She is a deity, after all, minor or major and this is her island, therefore her domain, your other gods don’t have much saying in here and if you really want to leave, you should learn how to have some respect. She is rather busy this days to care about your little boat full of strange looking man, but if you want to feed so much your idea of greatness…Be my guest, I will say that it was her and she’s probably in love with someone, maybe it’s even you, how lovely. Do you feel better now that you know you didn’t just ended up here for some cruel fate game? I can assure you that the only thing destructive about me is the way I cook, other than that, I’m as harmless as a girl my size can be. Which is a lot without any tool in her hand. What about you, stranger? What’s your name? ❞
— Well, it’s only fair. I don’t have to touch people to cause harm, as well. It would be sort of cruel to hold others in such a disadvantage. Besides, if my words must put me in harms way, so be it. I won’t stop voicing my thoughts simply because of that. Honesty is a virtue, and I am proud to say I carry it. Regarding my gifts... I am a vessel of death. And despite what it represents, I am quite comfortable with that fact. It’s inevitable, after all. And if I must kill everything I come in touch with, then simply accepting my fate is the smartest choice. — Por primeira vez, voltara os olhos ao próprio corpo, analisando em que estado se encontrava. Hematomas espalhavam-se por toda a extensão do tórax e do abdômen inferior, ao menos, nas frações descobertas em que alcançava a ver. Tinha certeza de que alguns lastimados lhe cabiam, visto que os próprios dons terminavam por acometê-lo em circunstâncias de estresse. Não obstante, não deixava de perguntar-se qual havia sido a extensão da catástrofe, para rendê-lo à inutilidade temporária. Esforçava-se por lembrar o que havia ocorrido ainda no mar, no entanto, apenas espaços vazios pareciam habitar suas remembranças. Frustrava-no, sequer compreender as circunstâncias de seu encarceramento velado. E assim, nada lhe restava que não contar com a esperança de que o sol tornasse a brilhar em suas experiências, lhe trazendo ao menos fragmentos do acidente. O instinto, afinal, lhe dizia que a despeito de as insinuações de Abbadon apontarem ao não envolvimento de Circe no naufrágio, a probabilidade disto era mínima. O barco, pois, sequer rumava à ilha e, estranhamente, ali havia terminado. — Your words are nothing but empty concepts, my dear. Concepts light as feathers, and the wind simply carries them away. I am not feeding ideas of greatness, but rather being quite rational regarding what happened. I have reasons to believe us ending up here wasn’t a random twist of fate. And that angers me, I won’t lie. And if there is one thing I’m not known for, that thing is carefulness when it comes to egocentric gods. Especially when they interfere with my tasks. Therefore, I am quite displeased with my current situation. You call me ungrateful, but we both know I have plenty of reasons to be suspicious and reluctant. Oh, please... I don’t buy your act of harmlessness. You wouldn’t be alone with me if you were actually a defenseless creature. My name? It’s Dragan, my dear. And you can call me by it. I don’t like the intimacy of nicknames. —
A insistência das palavras começava a rastejar por sua mente trazendo consigo uma raiva que não deveria ter para com alguém que claramente estava apenas confuso de ter acordado em um local que lhe era estranho, não havia culpa direcionada ao outro em seus pensamentos, mas de certa maneira ela desejava que ele apenas se calasse e aceitasse as poucas coisas que lhe eram ditas. ❝ — Have your momma never told you that ignorance can be a blessing? ❞ Um dos dedos fez um círculo no ar acima do copo d'água o transformando em um vinho de coloração forte, o cheiro adocicado tomando o ar por um momento. ❝ — I didn’t asked you what kind of wine you like, sorry…Do you have a preference? And I told you how to leave, darling. ❞ A mão gesticulou para a porta enquanto uma sobrancelha era levantada como quem dizia que já tinham passado por aquilo, no fundo duvidava muito que Circe fosse algum dia deixá-lo sair da ilha, mas não era seu trabalho mantê-lo preso, apenas o manter vivo. Os dedos que tocavam a pele pareciam sentir uma espécie de coceira dolorida, a vermelhidão subindo por sua mão em espiral a fazendo franzir o cenho antes de finalmente recuar diante das palavras de aviso tardias. ❝ — Well, thank you for the warning. This is what I get for trying to help. ❞ Os dedos foram encarados com certa facinação enquanto se afastava o suficiente para inclinar-se contra a parede cruzando os braços. ❝ — We did rescue you, you drowned and everything. It took four of us to bring you here because you were heavy as hell. I’m no kind, that’s for sure. I don’t know. How was I supposed to know that? I wasn’t in the ship. Your curses definitly outnumbered your blessings. Some of them are still sleeping recovering, others are around the island. One of them is dead, I’m sorry, we tried everything. Because it’s my job. I’m Abbadon. You can call me Abbie if you want to. You’re on Circe’s island…Welcome, it’s unlikely you’ll leave before she thinks you are truly healed. ❞
EMBORA MAL PUDESSE SUSTER O PRÓPRIO PESO QUANDO EM PÉ, tinha energia para exibir um amargo sorriso, os lábios apenas curvados ante o comentário de outrem. — No. She did taught me not to trust strangers, however. And I am simply standing by that wisdom. — Replicara sem tardar, igual despeito permeando as próprias palavras. Não havia cansaço, afinal, que lhe domasse a afiadíssima língua, fator que talvez lhe configurasse um péssimo destino. — Any kind suits me, as long as it’s alcohol. I’m not picky when it comes to that... They say no good deed goes unpunished, right? However, I do apologize for any harm I might have caused you. I can’t quite control my gifts when at a weak condition. — O copo fora tomado em mãos e então levado aos lábios. Em um tragar rápido, consumira o vinho que lhe fora oferecido, em uma conveniente conversão da água em sumo alcoólico. Lhe trazia certa graça a ideia, tão paralela aos mitos de uma fé distinta. No entanto, permanecera calado quanto à comparação imaginada, fechando os olhos por mor de saborear a bebida. Jurava perceber notas de sangue, donde haveriam de existir apenas madeira e vinhas. Toda sorte de pensamentos desesperados flutuavam brevemente por seus pensamentos, bradando-lhe a urgência de um método de escape mais absoluto que a porta que tão jocosamente lhe era apontada. — The Enchantress, of course... I should have known that such a stunt could only be pulled by a minor entity blinded by her own delusions of perceived greatness. I wouldn’t call our sinking the result of many curses, but rather, the will of your goddess. That makes me wonder what’s her interest on us. I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, Abbadon. However, I am not gonna lie: it’s not nice, and I can only assume you represent trouble. And with a name such as destruction, I think you understand why. —
Uma sobrancelha foi levantada diante da forma que o enfermo parecia a encarar como se de fato fosse capaz de fazer algo contra si sem acabar tendo o pescoço cortado ou as entranhas expostas antes de ser enterrado em algum lugar qualquer da ilha. Um dos dedos gesticulou para o próprio queixo o avisando sobre o estado de sua barba depois de beber água como uma criança hiperativa, a pergunta rude foi decididamente ignorada enquanto Abbadon levantava-se e se dirigia até o criado mudo enchendo o copo com mais água. ❝ — Do you need me to get you more water? Maybe another drink? I belive wine is available. ❞ Por um milésimo o pensamento da morena fora de deixá-lo se virar, talvez se tivesse sorte teria a diversão de vê-lo sucumbir diante do próprio peso e da patética fraqueza que deveria sentir, mas então ela lembrava-se que ele era sua responsabilidade e se viesse a se machucar também seria sua culpa, seus pés se moveram rápido para alcançá-lo o ajudando a voltar a se sentar. ❝ — No, you’re not, but your ship has sinked, cariño and we saved you, nursed you back into somewhat healthy state, so if you could please lay back down and don’t ruin my work, it would be great, sir. Your tasks are taken care of, the goddness has assured that and you can leave as soon as you’re ready for the sea again, right now? You’re staying here where we can look after you. This brings me as much joy as you. You could try leaving, the door is right there, but let me tell you..You won’t get that far. ❞
QUAL ALTERNATIVA RESTAVA AO NÁUFRAGO, que não permanecer cabisbaixo, refém de sua vulnerabilidade? Embora o temperamento o condicionasse à resistência, o corpo clamava por misericórdia. Qual um animal ferido, a estudava com um brilho acuado trás os olhos indicando todas as suas intenções de agressão. No entanto, passivo, suspirara. — Both would be very much welcome at this point. I might as well pass out until you decide to tell me where I am and how can I leave. — Por mui breve o contato estabelecido pela estranha, pudera sentir o eletrizar da derme, acompanhado por um prazenteiro formigamento que representava a própria renovação. Fraco como estava, não muito precisaria para ver o sangue a brotar desde o ponto em que a mulher o tocava. Lhe faltava o controle e, instigado pela noção da própria debilidade, cogitara o silêncio, permitindo que o desastre seguisse seu curso natural. O instinto por recuperação — em vez de sobrevivência — lhe configurava algo primordial e, em seu anseio por retornar ao curso de seus desígnios, o preço de uma vida randômica parecia baixo. A despeito disto, apartara-se da moça com tanta agilidade quanto lhe era possível dado o estado, grunhindo e proferindo xingamentos sussurrados. — Avoid touching me right now. You’re gonna get hurt if you don’t, and there’s nothing I can do about it. — Ambas as mãos foram levadas as têmporas, em uma massagem suave porém infrutífera em proporcionar qualquer alívio. Precisava desesperadamente organizar as ideias, se de fato quisesse sair do misterioso lugar. — I’m not fooled: despite your claims of rescue, I know you’re no kind stranger. How did the ship sink, anyway? We had blessings. And where are the other men? Why are you helping me? Who are you, after all? And once again, I ask: where am I? —
