Veridis Quo

Chapter 4 - An Arrow and Her Archer

A painting hung on the wall, depicting a wave crashing against a rocky shore whilst the sun is setting. Nothing spectacular, but the artistic liberties were utterly hypnotic. Making sense of the piece was like taking mushrooms, complaining the effect was weak and said effect hitting a moment later with the force of a hundred freight trains.

Crossing my arms, I looked over to Miya, the giant bird coldly observing the third individual in the room; a turtle. The old fellow was, well, old, evident by the wrinkles on his scaled mug, though it didn't help that he also had a permanent scowl. He was reaching for something under the table, grunting a curse under his breath before placing the item on the table; a cassette recorder. I was going to be interrogated, yay! What crime have I committed besides tax fraud? Did they even have taxes? I doubt not.

Pressing a button, the discs began spinning around at a relaxed speed, the turtle clearing his throat before speaking. Most of the content he parroted was lost on me, I had advanced quite far in the past two months, but upon the discovery of the second and third alphabets I was deservingly humbled. Something something about a log? What did trees have to do with this? I gasped internally, did trees also become sentient? Blasphemy! Next they'll tell me my search history has also gained a conscience.

Snapping his mouth shut, he exchanged a word or two with my friend before addressing me, "Good afternoon, let us have a talk, okay?"

"Okay."

"How do you feel?"

"Good... good..." Not the best, but I'll live another day.

"Okay. Next are personal questions, okay?"

"Okay." Miya uncrossed her legs, her ear canal towards us.

"Name?"

"Johnny."

"Full name?"

"Jonathan Young."

"Hmm..." He clicked a pen, writing down, "Jonatan... Yung..."

"No. No." I shook my head, repeating, "Johnathan Young."

"Yes, Jonatan Yung."

"No! Johnathan. Young."

The turtle narrowed his eyes, more than they naturally were, "I say the same. Jonatan. Yung."

"Noooo... JoHnaTHan YOung," I spoke slower, placing major emphasis on the sounds he skipped by accident

"Hmm... Jonatan Yung. No more arguments." The turtle marked a period on the paper.

I sighed, "Johnny, just... call me Johnny."

"Okay, Jony."

„Fuck my life," I mumbled in English, massaging my temples in circular motions.

"Next. Age?"

„Duuude-" I had pondered on that many times, guess it was the time to face it, "I... don't know."

"What do you mean?" The turtle clicked his pen again, why have a recorded and written version was beyond me.

"Yes, what do you mean, Johnny?" She crossed her arms, her correct pronunciation touching my heart.

"Well... it's... a long story, really long."

"We have all day," the turtle clarified, leaning back into his shell. He also had a chair like us, but his shell had its uses.

"Well..." I glanced at Miya, her interest a far cry from the shyness I'd seen around her coworkers. "Alright."

Scooting a little closer to the table, I started speaking into the mic.