Внутреннее тестирование Вики/E-III — различия между версиями
Материал из ЭнциклопАтис
Lanstiril (обсуждение | вклад) м |
Lanstiril (обсуждение | вклад) м |
||
| Строка 33: | Строка 33: | ||
:''"Father is right, I must do it alone. Have faith in me, everyone, I will know to do our name honor." | :''"Father is right, I must do it alone. Have faith in me, everyone, I will know to do our name honor." | ||
| − | Pü said these few words while gritting his teeth, squinting to control himself. He left the hut without looking at his family and picked up the sacred basin on the ground, which was emptied and filled with water every evening in anticipation of the great moment. Undressing completely, he knelt down and poured the contents of the well over his head, as the tradition asked. Under normal circumstances, '''the bite of the icy water''' would probably have seemed painful to him. But as the burn of the shoot bruised his face, the sensation of the icy liquid was almost life-saving. Naked as a newborn and washed of his impurities, he was now ready to be reborn during the ritual. But he still had to survive until then. Still kneeling, the young Zorai opened the small chest put next to the now empty basin. It contained two tools that were essential to the sprouting ceremony: a ceremonial dagger and a whistler-stick. | + | Pü said these few words while gritting his teeth, squinting to control himself. He left the hut without looking at his family and picked up the sacred basin on the ground, which was emptied and filled with water every evening in anticipation of the great moment. Undressing completely, he knelt down and poured the contents of the well over his head, as the tradition asked. Under normal circumstances, '''the bite of the icy water''' would probably have seemed painful to him. But as the burn of the shoot bruised his face, the sensation of the icy liquid was almost life-saving. Naked as a newborn and washed of his impurities, he was now ready to be reborn during the ritual. But he still had to survive until then. Still kneeling, the young Zorai opened the small chest put next to the now empty basin. It contained two tools that were essential to the sprouting ceremony: a ceremonial dagger and a whistler-stick. Pü put the whistler-stick in his mouth and struggled to his feet. Finally, with the dagger in his hand, he headed for the deeper place in the village: the Ceremonial Square. |
With each of the child's exhalations, the whistle emitted a melodious and strangely evanescent chant that everyone within the stump knew. Whistler-sticks were sacred objects, carved from the femurs of tribe's ancestors. Their singing allowed the villagers to know that one of their own was coming of age, but also to communicate with the Kamis, who seemed to be able to hear them everywhere. More practically, the whistle also prevented the nascent mask from covering the Zorai's mouth, or even seeping into it, at the risk of killing him. Helping himself to the walls and barriers to progress, Pü advanced laboriously, his affliction preventing him from controlling his steps perfectly, between the moving slats of the suspended bridges and the tortuous alleys. Fortunately, he knew every corner of the village, and knew instinctively how to avoid the roots that sometimes intertwined under his feet. He could have moved around there with his eyes closed, guided by the slopes, the characteristic smell of each hut, the nightly cries of the izams installed in the vegetal niches of the bark ceiling, and the bewitching echo coming from the abyss wells that sank beneath the bark. If he usually cherished the night walks, the crossing seemed to him today infinitely long, punctuated by impulses of pain that started from his skull and split his whole being. One of them was particularly heartbreaking. His legs gave out on him as he took a hollowed-out staircase that led to a middle landing in the village. He hurtled down a steep slope, tearing up some roots in the process, and crashed to the ground. As he fell, the dagger and whistler-stick slipped from his grasp and fluttered a few feet away from him. Slumped on the cold carpet of lichens, he thought his head would explode, and put a fist in his mouth freed from the whistle to stifle his howls. Luckily, he was still alone, and no one was in situation to discover the pitiful state he was in. | With each of the child's exhalations, the whistle emitted a melodious and strangely evanescent chant that everyone within the stump knew. Whistler-sticks were sacred objects, carved from the femurs of tribe's ancestors. Their singing allowed the villagers to know that one of their own was coming of age, but also to communicate with the Kamis, who seemed to be able to hear them everywhere. More practically, the whistle also prevented the nascent mask from covering the Zorai's mouth, or even seeping into it, at the risk of killing him. Helping himself to the walls and barriers to progress, Pü advanced laboriously, his affliction preventing him from controlling his steps perfectly, between the moving slats of the suspended bridges and the tortuous alleys. Fortunately, he knew every corner of the village, and knew instinctively how to avoid the roots that sometimes intertwined under his feet. He could have moved around there with his eyes closed, guided by the slopes, the characteristic smell of each hut, the nightly cries of the izams installed in the vegetal niches of the bark ceiling, and the bewitching echo coming from the abyss wells that sank beneath the bark. If he usually cherished the night walks, the crossing seemed to him today infinitely long, punctuated by impulses of pain that started from his skull and split his whole being. One of them was particularly heartbreaking. His legs gave out on him as he took a hollowed-out staircase that led to a middle landing in the village. He hurtled down a steep slope, tearing up some roots in the process, and crashed to the ground. As he fell, the dagger and whistler-stick slipped from his grasp and fluttered a few feet away from him. Slumped on the cold carpet of lichens, he thought his head would explode, and put a fist in his mouth freed from the whistle to stifle his howls. Luckily, he was still alone, and no one was in situation to discover the pitiful state he was in. | ||
