A Poetry Punch Up

“Oh Gods, what fools we mortals be,

for permanent we rest in greenery.

If your life were mine, and mine were yours,

we’d step together through heaven’s door.

When yours and mine are rightly ours,

we’ll find our place among the stars.”

Mai read the poem aloud. She knew Dorian didn't want her to, and she didn't want to upset him. There was something about the simple six line stanza that Dorian had scribbled in his notebook that captivated her. Of course it was rough around the edges. In fact, she was pretty sure that if any of the more experienced poets saw it, they would laugh him out of the building. There was something about it though, that she felt was honest and raw. “Dorian… This is great! How long did it take you? What's your creative process? Do you have one?”

“It’s not, but thank you.” If he was being honest, Dorian wasn't paying that much attention to her. He was much more focused on digging through the treasure trove of a Union database the Utrecht dome offered. Sadly, it seemed the cut-off point for the database coincided with the cut-off point of his knowledge around the situation in galactic space. “It's just something I wrote in my free time.”

“Oh, don't be like that! It's a good entry-level poem. I can tell a lot of thought went into it. When you study the arts as much as we do, you kind of pick up on these things.”

“Entry level? We've known each other for three hours and you think we’re already at the banter stage of the relationship? Nice try.” He'd be lying if he said the comment didn't sting a little. Even though they hadn't known each other for very long, he was grateful that Mai seemed relaxed and cheerful. He would be foolish to let his guard down completely, but there was a sense of ease about her Dorian found uncomfortably soothing.

“That’s not what I mean! I just mean it'll be really easy for you to fit in! You're obviously a very creative person and we value that highly here. If you want to, I can talk to the people at the Poetry Porch and we can see about getting you enrolled in the program.”

Dorian blinked. “I’m sorry…The what now?”

“The Poetry Porch? It’s a communal area…Where you write poetry together? Do they not have things like that where you're from?”

It was completely accidental and he would be very apologetic about it later, but Dorian could not control himself. After everything that he had been through, all the negativity and the character slander, the pain of having to leave his mum. There was something about the phrasing of that place that just let all of his troubles out in one loud, belly aching laugh.

“Oh yes, let’s go to the Poetry Porch! Maybe after that, we could go to the Colouring Cove or the Sandcastle Chalet! You may all be creative, but your naming sense is bloody terrible! Oh my Stars, I’m dying!”

Mai’s face turned red hot with embarrassment. It was at times like this that she wished she had Kazumi’s confidence or Isaac's aloofness. It wasn't fair for somebody like her who was used to working alone to be put on the spot like this. The Elders requested that Kazumi accompany her in the quote “interrogation of the organics.”

Organics? Weren't they supposed to be Saviours? And why would they need interrogating? Dorian could be brash, it seemed. He also had a sense of humour that was a little… Abrasive, but in her mind, that was hardly a reason to put them under that strict of a watch. She wasn't going to question the elders’ orders, but she was confused by them.

She hoped Kazumi would be okay. She hoped even more that Issac would stay out of trouble while they were gone.

“You’re a mean man, Dorian Pepper!” She said with a mock pout. “I really don’t know why you are treating me so cruelly! You are a guest in my house. By rights you should do whatever I say! I could, for example, force you to tell me who the subject of that poem is. Do you have a girlfriend?”

"Mai, with all due respect. I wouldn't give away the secrets of my poetry on my deathbed. You seem nice and all, but stuff like that, I take with me to my grave.” To demonstrate his point, Dorian made a show of flamboyantly ripping out the piece of paper and putting it in his pocket. “This piece of paper should be treated as if it were my very soul!”

“Yeah, I was definitely right about you. I had you figured out the moment you stepped into the Dome. I knew it was right for you to be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a poet’s soul, Dorian. Void have mercy on whoever tried to take it from you. And whoever that poem is about is a very lucky person.”

She knew she had a job to do, but Mai felt a level of ease with Dorian that she'd never felt with anybody before, not even Kazumi. It was nice that, even though they hadn't known each other for very long, he still saw her as an independent individual.

Not Mai the superstar artist, not Mai the bringer of the Saviours, Not Mai the hero of the dome.

Just Mai.

She got the impression that nobody knew what to do about this situation, not even the Elders. Even so. She offered a prayer to the stars, hoping at the very least Dorian could find whatever happiness he needed.

After she figured out the meaning of his poem, that is.

"Come on Dorian, it’s poetry time. I can see a purple beret with your name on it.”

***

It had been a long time since Dorian felt like he could walk around outside without feeling like he was under some kind of scrutiny. Yet, as he walked with Mai among the various corners of the Dome, he felt…Underwhelmed? He was certainly grateful for the opportunity for some peace, but the way Mai had described the way things worked made it sound like an exciting new chapter. The only thing Dorian could see were a bunch of people working. At least, that's what it looked like to him. He tried to banish the thought from his head. Why did he always have to be so cynical?

“Excuse me, Mai?”

“Yes?”

He continued to watch the people around him. One person was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper, trying so hard to erase what was on it that Dorian was pretty sure he would burn a hole right through. Another sat there looking apprehensively at a wooden sculpture that was so close and yet unsalvageable. If they were enjoying themselves while creating, they weren't showing it.

“You told me that the purpose of this place is to hone the skills of artists, right?”

“That is correct, yes. The Utrecht Dome was set up by the noble house Utrecht. Initially, this was a place where artists could come and create works that would have easy access to potential buyers. The family had connections in virtually every artistic field you could think of. It seemed only natural that they would want to pull their resources together to create a place of artistic expression.”

“I see. Pardon my rudeness, but it doesn't seem like people are being very expressive at the moment. Everybody seems so stressed out. Why?”

Mai came to such a sudden stop that Dorian almost bumped into her. He was about to ask if she was okay when he noticed her body language had changed. She slumped her shoulders before looking back to face him, trying to force a smile. “Actually, it’s because of you.”

“What!? I didn’t ask for all of this stuff. I get that you guys haven’t seen humans for a while, but that’s no reason to work hard for my sake.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say. Even if you told us to stop, we couldn’t. The Elders say in order for the Saviours to return, we must keep making things. If you say you’re not a Saviour, then we must continue working.”

The change in Mai’s personality was bizarre. When it was just the two of them alone, she was very happy and bubbly. She had explained to him that working for the progress of the dome was the mission of everybody there, that it was important, that it would save them.

Dorian recognised this cage they were trapped in, but he stayed silent as they walked towards the Poetry Porch. He didn't want to tell Mai what he was feeling. He'd burnt enough bridges trying to convince people of things. He knew by now he just wasn't very good at it.

“And working…Makes you happy? Are you sure?”

“Well, I can’t speak for everyone here. I think it’s good to work together as a community. We have a goal, and that reward will benefit all of us. I see no reason to do anything other than help the community reach that point.”

“I…See.”

“Is everything okay, Dorian?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine. Thank you for taking the time to-”

“You hack!” As the two of them approached the archway to the Poetry Porch, a loud shout rang out across the courtyard. Dorian looked to Mai to see if she knew the cause, only to watch her go white as a sheet and sprint towards the porch. He followed to find her stood in between two angry looking, colourfully dressed boys. Somebody was standing off to the side of the scuffle, looking very pleased with themselves.

“That kind of low effort drivel will never bring the Saviour’s back! Do you know how many times we've described our love as being as pure as driven snow? Well!? Use better metaphors. We've been through this! The older boy’s posse nodded and murmured in agreement.

“We don’t have long left! And besides, I’m speaking from the heart! Surely the Saviours are wise enough to determine my intent!?"

“Oh easily! Especially if it's delivered with the verbal grace of a preschooler." The younger boy lunged at the older but was stopped by Mai. When Dorian called out “What’s going on?” Mai merely gestured between the two boys with her eyes and shrugged.

“Seriously? A poetry punch up?”

As he continued to watch the ridiculous brawl go on around him, he felt more and more alone. It seemed that no matter where he went, he was always the odd one out. The silliness of his situation aside, he thought maybe it was time to give up on these grand ideas of freedom and independence. Especially if the world he now found himself in, on either side, didn't make the tiniest bit of sense to him.

He was going to find Avery and together they were going to figure it all out…Whatever the hell it was.

As he turned to leave, he found himself face-to-face with someone he had never seen before. A boy around his age with piercing blue eyes and a cheeky grin looked him up and down before offering his hand to shake.

“You don’t look much like a Saviour. Oh well, your eyes tell me you’re about as done with this place as I am. If we’re quick, I can show you a way out. Or not, maybe. Whatever, I don’t care.”