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The Gift

Richard's (SF) Storyline, Chapter 2.4

copyright comidacomida 2018

I couldn't go through with finishing the thought so I returned to the first question. "What do I have to do if I take part in the ritual?"

Balam's whiskers twitched and I saw his nostrils flare; I might have also seen the hint of a smile, but I could have been mistaken. "First, you must take off your clothing. This ritual is done without them."

I didn't really know what kind of an explanation I was looking for, but that was a pretty straight forward indication that my impression of the situation may have been accurate. Taking a deep breath, I nodded, and slowly undressed, wanting to see what else Balam was offering to teach me. Disrobing beneath his watchful gaze made me feel self conscious, but I completed the task and, standing bare before the Jaguar, attempted to ask as casually as possible "Okay... aaaaand... now?"

The Jaguar inched closer until we were seated cross legged so near one another that our knees were almost touching; I could have sworn I felt his body heat. "Put your hand on my chest. The left one, to this side."

As he spoke, Balam motioned to his left pectoral, which, to me, was on the right. Following his direction I slowly reached out. "Okay..."

"Wait."

I froze, my hand hanging in the air. "What's wrong?"

The Jaguar reached his pigment-covered paw out to my hand and I felt a light tingling sensation as the two extremities passed through one another. As he pulled back I could see that my fingers and palm were completely covered in the red powder. I was just about to rub my fingers together on my left hand but he directed me to continue. "Now. Put your hand on my chest. Here."

Not willing to sacrifice the integrity of whatever ritual we were doing for the sake of my own courtesy I resolved to ask him about the powder later. Per his request I leaned forward, extending my arm and pressing my hand to his chest. As I'd already wondered, it passed right into his body but, to my surprise, as I pulled back the red pigment left a perfect handprint on the white fur of his chest. I commented in English "Wow."

He cocked his head to the side. "¿Que es la significa de 'wow'?"

I responded again in Spanish. "What does 'wow' mean? It's... a statement of surprise. I... just didn't know what to expect when I--"

The words slowly stopped coming out of my mouth, fading off as he reached out his left paw and crossed it to the left side of my chest, repeating my gesture. As with my action, his digits went right into my body; I felt a light tingle, and the sensation of late morning dew falling onto me from a canopy high above. It was all gone the moment he pulled his paw back, leaving a mark on my skin similar to the one I'd left on his. Rather than explaining anything, Balam held up his other paw which, I noticed, was colored a very rich and vibrant Cobalt. His direction was simple. "Your other hand."

I held up my hand per his request and he extended his paw; once again they passed through one another, leaving my fingers and palm colored blue. When he nodded I reached out and pressed my hand through the right side of his chest; as I pulled back I saw, as expected, the pigment clung to his fur. "That one is blue."

He nodded, saying nothing, and I saw that he had a new color of powder to his paw; it was a rich, forest green. As if knowing the question I was about to ask, he answered it before I could speak. "Among the Mayan people, blue is the color of your kind and green is the color of mine. Humans, made of flesh and soul are from the House of the Heavens. Spirits, born of the earth and water are from the House of Gaia."

There was something reverential in the way he spoke; he was teaching me but, at the same time, it was almost as though he were reciting the words as if they were part of the ritual themselves. He finally ceased leaning forward, brushing his paws off on one another despite the lack of pigment sticking to them. He twitched an ear, raising an eyebrow and nodding briefly to me, showing me the action again with his paws and without saying a word I mimicked what he was doing. He spoke the words in Mayan again "Oh Yum Hunab Ky Evam Maya e Ma Ho."

I attempted the same and, while I had a feeling that I didn't get the pronunciation quite right he nodded approvingly before adding "Now close your eyes."

There is a certain vulnerability that comes with being naked in the room with another person but that sensation of being at your companion's mercy compounds several fold without the benefit of sight. Although I hesitated for a moment I did ultimately close my eyes; Balam didn't mean me any harm and we'd already come so far. As darkness folded around me I felt a faint tingling across my body and I felt my hair stand on end. Across from me I heard the Jaguar move from his spot; although he was relatively silent the faint sound of feathers from his headdress brushing across his fur allowed me a vague sense that he was shifting location.

I knew Balam was moving, but I didn't know what the was doing until I felt whiskers against my cheek. It took a second, and a much more powerful pressure of his cheek against mine until I realized what was happening: like a big cat, the Jaguar was rubbing the side of his head against the side of my face. I was so surprised I almost opened my eyes, but he reminded me in a calm tone "Your eyes stay closed."

It was mind-blowing just how real he felt; his head felt like a head and not the impression of one. I could feel his fur, whiskers, the skull beneath, and the faint vibration of his purring in bone-to-bone contact separated by only a few millimeters of flesh. Although he told me to keep my eyes closed he did not say that I couldn't move, and I slowly reached a hand out in his direction; I was surprised when it encountered a paw and our fingers laced together seamlessly. A tingling sensation started in my chest where he'd last touched me; it reminded me of icy hot, and made me gasp in surprise. "What's... happening?"

When Balam responded it was in Mayan. I couldn't tell what was he was saying, but he pulled my hand closer to him and when our fingers left one another's I felt a firm, fit, muscled chest covered in fur; it felt exactly how I imagined it would, and I almost withdrew when he took in a deep breath and I felt it rise as it filled with air. When I was four or five my next door neighbors let me meet their great dane. I remember putting my hand on her ribs and feeling her breathing; it was a magical sensation, but didn't even start to compare with actually FEELING a spirit as if he were tangible. I spoke the words again, but it was more of a declaration of surprise; I spoke in English. "What's going on?"

The sound of each syllable spoken from his muzzle right next to my ear sent a shiver up my spine. He was so close to me I could hear the fleshy sound of his lips and tongues working in unison to create the words; I was dumbfounded that he spoke them to me in perfect English. "I am your Spirit Guide, Richard. You are binding me to you and I am binding you to me."

There were any of a dozen questions I could have asked in that moment but the one that ended up coming out was pretty mundane. "When did you learn to speak English?"

Although I couldn't see it the way his whiskers rose up against my ear I was certain that he smiled. "For now, we are one. To me, you are speaking Mayan."

He said 'for now', and that brought up another very important question. "Then... what happens next?"

The Jaguar's furred cheek brushed against mine again. "You will open your eyes, and then we will be separate again... but less separate than when we started."

With that, Balam drew away and, as he did so, the contact with him faded. He didn't specifically say when to open my eyes but after a long pause I had the impression that the answer was up to me. I slowly cracked one eye open, and then the other. Balam was seated across from me where he had been when we'd first started. The red paint was completely gone from his body and where the blue pigment had been my handprint remained, only it was Turquoise: a mixture of green and blue.

Looking down at myself I saw that his paw print on me, which had been green, had likewise assumed the sane hue of the semi-precious stone. It, as with almost everything else that evening, surprised me. "I... don't know what to say."

I'd absent-mindedly spoken the words in English, and Balam reminded me in Spanish "I do not speak your language."

I repeated my earlier statement, this time in Spanish. "I don't know what to say."

He smiled in earnest this time; it was a good look for him I decided. His eyes gleamed a rich Gold as he focused entirely and wholly on me; there was a strange sense of trepidation in his gaze that seemed counterpoint to his seemingly endless confidence. "The ritual is not done until you say 'yes'."

The fact that he said 'yes' in English was not lost to me. Having the first actual moment to think for myself rather than follow directions, I--