"C'mon, you can do this."
"Oh, for the love of the gods, Sarah… I can't. This is impossible for me."
Simma's legs wobbled across the ice in a chaotic zigzag, as if the bones inside them had suddenly dissolved into jelly. Not only could he barely keep upright, but without clinging to the barrier around the rink, he couldn't stand at all.
The gliding floor.... a shimmering, frozen expanse, was enclosed within a square, with a waist-high wall. Its flat surface was sturdy enough for someone to perch on and watch. At one corner, the wall rose into terraced seating, with a series of chairs attached to steps moving higher and higher, serving as a small arena for spectators or weary recruits to rest.
The place was scantily filled with people, mostly recruits, those that had the time to do some training of their own, since the ES had said that either you choose to glide or you choose the fall.
And that was the mystery in it. Just like everyone knows that the glide was just to learn how to glide and prepare for an unknown tournament were it would be used, no one knows what the fall implies. No one, not even a single soul, was considering picking that option.
And judging by the unanimous avoidance of that second option, no one was eager to find out.
But one person was beginning to wonder if taking the mysterious Fall might be less humiliating than this. Since he had almost stayed two complete hours "gliding", not gliding....but panicking. Yet he hadn't even learnt the basics, which was to stand erect on the gliding shoes, let alone learning how to glide without holding onto something.
And now, as if the shame that he couldn't summon his weapon nor within beast wasn't enough, Sarah was here holding him as they glided together. Still, he couldn't do it. Even with her support, his knees trembled like a sapling in a storm. But what he was doing was enjoying the moment of fun he was having.
"All you need to do is lean forward," Sarah called out to him from the other end.
They had been going for two hours, and she decided to let Simma take some risks to see if it would break the fear in him. She had gone to the other end of the gliding field, standing erect on her gliding shoes with effortless grace, like she was born for the exercise.
That was one thing she was very good at, to the extent that when she found out that gliding was in the wood hint, the joy in her was just too much and overwhelming.
As she stood at the other end, she waited for Simma, who she left at the opposite side, to glide to her. That was the test she gave him. Simma, however, remained frozen. Figuratively and almost literally, clutching the barrier as if letting go would hurl him into an abyss.
His feet were shaking, and the fear of even taking a step now that Sarah was no longer holding him was at its peak.
"O… o… oh m… my God…oh, my… God…"
He stuttered, fear written all over him. Sarah could only laugh herself silly. A few recruits who were also training found his terror highly entertaining and humorous, including Lucy.
She had followed them that evening out into the gliding arena when she saw Sarah and Simma coming out of Simma's room. She had no plans to do her first training on gliding that day, but Sarah and Simma were the reason she was there.
The ice glowed with the ghostly colour of the moon, enhanced by neon-lit poles surrounding the arena. The air carried a strange energy, half playful, half tense, and it was as if the darkness of the night filled the place with this weird vibe.
Lucy, seeing how Simma was struggling, offered to help him at least make the first glide. Maybe, if he is in motion, it might be easier for him to then glide forward. Sarah saw it as a good idea too, so Lucy glided forward to help.
"C'mon, Simma… give me your hands."
Simma turned with exaggerated caution, placing his left hand into hers as though it were made of glass. Then, very reluctantly, he let go of the wall. His weight now rested entirely on her.
"Alright… the movement is very simple, remember," Lucy tutored. "It's just as Sarah said."
Simma nodded gravely, and then blinked with theatrical determination as though it would give him the utmost gliding ever, who says it didn't? Well, he had blinked that way three times when he was trying to start gliding, and guess what? He hit his ass hard on the ice three times. Let's just hope this one will be different.
Putting all his focus now, he paid attention to Lucy's words.
"…So, right foot forward and sweep, then left foot forward and sweep." Her tone was gentle but firm, like a tutor coaxing a reluctant pupil.
As Lucy said those words, she gave a countdown.
"Alright, here we go in three… two… one."
With a careful push, she led him into motion. They moved with the pattern: Right foot forward, sweep. Left foot forward, sweep. The rhythm took hold, their pace quickening. Then, miracle of miracles, Simma released her hand and kept moving.
At first, a quick fear seared through him like an electric shock, but then he found himself gliding with the rhythm and motion set up for him by Lucy.
"Yes… YES… I'M DOING IT!" he shouted, grinning like a child who had just discovered he could fly.
But in his exhilaration, he didn't realize that gliding wasn't just about propulsion, rather there's a time you glide yourself forward, and there's also a time you have to let yourself coast with the speed you've generated.
There was also knowing when to stop. Instead, he kept pushing faster, building dangerous momentum, his speed increasing with every swipe made with his legs across the ice floor as he sailed toward Sarah.
The speed with which he glided towards Sarah was something that no one could ever survive from, but Simma not knowing was still rejoicing.
Sarah's instincts told her something was wrong.
"Simma," she called at first, but it wasn't loud enough to draw him out of his delusions.
"SIMMA!"
Her voice snapped him out of his joy this time, his expression transforming into wide-eyed horror. The joyful scream in his mouth turned into a panic-coated yell. His eyes open as an owl that had just seen its evil mother predecessor.
He was gliding straight.... heading directly at Sarah.
"SARAAAAAAAH!" he yelled.
Sarah made a firm stand on the ice, an impulsive one, her mind hell-bent on catching Simma. But Simma's mind was also bent on not hurting her.
And, not having the knowledge or the training on how to stop his motion, he did what he thought was the right thing, he leaned backwards, not knowing the implications.
It was a terrible choice. Since his weight shifted behind him, and now that his motion was fast, his legs outran his body as they slipped out from under him, sending his butt to the ice. Now Sarah, who had leaned forward to catch him, had her feet swept off the ice by Simma's feet, and she fell on top of him.
They collided and tumbled over twice. With the final turn, Simma was on the ice, it carried them sliding on his back with Sarah on top of him until they were stopped by the short wall.
Simma felt her warm, full, soft body weight pressed awesomely on him.
Both burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the ice. Yet, as the laughter faded, another feeling seeped into the space between them... something heavier and more electrical. Their breaths came quick, eyes locked in an unblinking stare. Sarah's heart racing high.
She didn't understand that feeling that made her not want to get up. Their eyes were still blazing into each other. Slowly, almost unconsciously, their faces began to draw closer…
And....