AGG: Rise: Song's Lazy Day

Song’s Lazy Day: Coda

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Commissioned by  quiteadapperlass

Word Count: 2320

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Being able to relax is an imperative ability to any Warrior. For every battle fought, there are many hours and days spent waiting and preparing. So, keeping one’s spirits up, ensuring the body is ready, alert, and able, is a venerated skill of veterans. When there are no opponents to be fought, the immediate area is secure, and leaders deliberating on what strategy to pursue, a Warrior must be capable of recuperating.

If one must fight, then they must live.

The sweetness of life is necessary to endure the harshness of battle.

So, today, while you are on call for emergencies, you only relax.

And, lo, the maids have facilitated you to their utmost ability!

A theatre room has been requisitioned and renovated for your exclusive use. All the advanced entertainment systems, along with emulators, are within your reach. A whole table is laden with various foodstuffs, most unhealthy and addicting, while a portable fridge keeps many sweet confections cool . The viewing screen is projected by a machine with a smart sensor, which keeps what you’re watching in the center of your vision, or in the periphery, should you ask it to. The images and sound provided are crisp, all-encompassing, and does not change whether you wish to witness it laying down, standing, or sitting. Every movie in the last two decades is at your fingertips, along with every virtual game, and there is enough food to last for weeks on end, without resupply.

Without a doubt, you have been placed in this room to be thoroughly smothered in the luxuries of modern civilization. Certainly, it is lacking extravagant foodstuffs, and other ostentatious additions, but you are surrounded by a truly ludicrous amount of creature comforts. You are sure that any being, should they be capable of appreciating anything sensible, would find your current location utterly, utterly overwhelming in the sheer amount of choices it has for one to relax. It is the cumulative efforts of humanity to create a room where no work needs to be done, where entertainment is the only thing that needs to be chosen, and delicious food, in large amounts, is readily available.

And, nothing exemplifies that more than the chair you’ve been given.

The chair you’ve been provided costs fifteen thousand credits. It has temperature control, hot or cold. It analyzes one’s body, locates knots, and massages them out of existence, while improving circulation. It adjusts to the individual seated within it, whirring to perfectly frame the body of the one who sits in it, before adopting the optimal, reclined position that rids the individual’s body of any strain whatsoever. It is no mere chair. Calling it a chair would be a disgrace. It is the very centerpiece of the room. A technological marvel that feels like being wrapped in the warmest, fluffiest blanket, whilst lying upon clouds with the just right amount of support, that also slowly, impeccably rids the body of aches and pains.

You spend your first hour just in The Chair, doing nothing besides staring at the ceiling, and wondering why you don’t have The Chair, instead of your bed. It soothes every ache and pain you have, as though comforting the very depths of your soul, and aligns your body to very nature of comfiness that represents all that is comfy in the universe. As you lay within it, warm, weightless, and content all over, you become sure that it the Aspect of Comfiness. The very pinnacle of relaxation. That which will topple the Heavens claim on paradise.

Your go—

When Coda enters the room, despite her visit being unannounced and unwarranted, you spend quite a long time explaining why you’re sitting on the floor, with a it sealed away in the corner of the room. Thankfully, your counterpart simply takes your explanation in stride, and doesn’t attempt to fall to the wiles of the terrible temptation herself.  Truly, you consider it your greatest achievement to convince her to not even try The Chair. Who knows what could’ve happened to reality if Coda had such awesome, terrible power at her disposal.

Without a doubt, it would have become her seat of power, from which the all of reality would’ve been ruled by her, should she have cast Apex upon it.

And, you would’ve have been unable to fight against her in the slightest.

…

Coda takes a seat beside you, cross-legged as you are, while you watch scan through channels. You find your counterpart to be an individual of few words, at least while she’s going through pints of ice cream, so you’re surprised as she bids you to stop changing channels.

“I want to watch this.” The phrase is innocuous, but you take note of it. The tiny creature that is the Aspect of the End has expressed little interest in anything besides bringing about peace and creamy confections. So, despite allowing yourself to devolve into a fugue state of surfing channels, you analyze what you are currently watching. “Alyss said this movie is impeccable.”

It is… 300? The title of the movie is numbers? And, a narrated tale regarding Thermopylae? Interesting.

“Alyss has instructed me to watch this movie, with no explanation regarding the context, so that information is appreciated.” Coda’s sudden, earnest compliment takes you aback for a second, but you manage to meet societal standards and thank her for it. She nods in recognition, but her focus is entirely on the screen. “Hmmm, I see. Without condoning, or condemning, I now understand why Alyss likes this movie.” She scoops up another bite, resolutely turning away from the screen, much to your confusion. “You may change the channel, Li Song.”

You blink at the sudden, drastic lack of interest, and turn to look upon the movie in question.

Pecs. Abs. Muscles. A vast array is presented upon the screen. Huh. From what you’ve learned of history, Spartan spearmen were rather heavily armored. The physique portrayed is certainly correct, as to be expected of a warrior-society, but scarlet capes, spears, swords, and leather loincloths and sandals are not an accurate representation of Greek heavy infantry.

“Li Song, I have told you that you are free to change the channel.”

Coda must think that the Spartans truly dressed like that. As an amateur historian, and as a Warrior, you cannot leave such thoughts be. You pause the movie, then point out the obvious flaws. While Spartan warriors did indeed lather themselves in oils before battles and training, as a means to cleanse their bodies, resulting in a bronzed appearance due to interaction with the sun, much of their extensive, corded musculature would be hidden beneath armor. Not only that, but they never threw their spears at the enemy, as they were thick, heavy instruments meant to be thrust into the bodies of their enemies with ruthless, unerring precision.

Abruptly, your speech is cutoff, as Coda takes hold of your face and forces you to gaze into her amethyst gaze.

You feel as though you are being weight, measured, and judged by her stare. However, you do not know why. Coda says nothing, just holding your still with her slim, slight digits, while her features are merely centimeters away from your own. Some part of you tells you that you ought to be afraid, that should consider this an act of violence, but you know Coda better than that. She is doing this for reasons utterly unexplained, and you sense no violence from her, so you simply wait for her to explain herself.

“…Just change the channel, Song. I am sure that the Warriors of the past are nothing like these individuals on this movie.” You’re glad to hear that, but you’re sure that something is going unsaid in your current conversation. When you make a move to say so, Coda lets go of your face, but presses a finger between your lips. “Rest assured, I am merely contrite, because I have been tricked by Alyss in a manner I find very unpleasant and would rather not share.”

You process those words for a second, as Coda goes back to consuming her frozen dessert, with a certain aggression and a spoon that has abruptly changed shape, and is also harvesting ice cream with terrifying ease and precision from the tub.

You decide that discretion is the better part of valor and simply change channels.

…

“I want to sit on something more comfortable. Allow me access to that massage chair.”

You refuse Coda’s request, not out of malice, but out of self-preservation and the world’s continued existence.

After three hours of so of movies, television, and video games, the supplies of your companion in laziness has been expended. About thirty pints of ice cream has disappeared into Coda’s body. You are sure she has eaten at least half her weight in the frozen confection. Thus, without anything to occupy her, as you enjoy yourself, and with little inclination towards keeping watch without consuming more of the frozen foodstuff, she is now working to end the whole of reality, as you expected.

If you do not stop her advance, she will take the chair, find it worthy, Apex it, and make it the source of all her power.

Everything shall End, then.

So, you bar the way, physically.

And, with an offering.

“That is sherbet. I am not a fool. That is not ice cream.” But, it’s tasty, you attest! You offer the strawberry sherbet, the last hope of reality, with all the force you can muster. Alas, Coda’s blank stare is might. You feel as though a physical force is pushing back the whole of your body. The slightest of frowns upon her lips, which don’t even reach her placid, purple eyes, is a spear’s tip threatening to remove your offering from existence. “It will not suffice, Li Song. Move aside, allow you to use the chair, and I promise that I shall leave it once the cooler is properly refilled with my food.”

Very nearly, you hesitate to say the words which come to your lips, but you do.

You tell her that The Chair is better than ice cream, and that she won’t keep that promise.

The temperature in the room falls abruptly to nothing.

Or, at least, that’s what you think happens when cold fury suddenly erupts across Coda’s gaze.

“Do you earnestly believe that I will like a chair more than ice cream, Li Song?” The words are an ultimatum. An irrevocable, undeniable question that you must answer, no matter the cost. Though you desperately wish to comply, to refute your own words for the sake of no longer fearing for your life, you must protect the world. So, yes, you state that Coda would like The Chair more than ice cream. In essence, you make a very grave, impossibly terrible accusation in regards to her character. Coda, after all, would halt her pursuit of eternal peace, even if only for a moment, for ice cream. “I see.”

The two words are innocuous, stated with the same, bland, placid tone Coda typically utilizes, but you feel as though a gauntlet has shattered the Earth’s mantle between the two of you. If this situation comes to blows, it will entirely be your fault, but it is for the sake of the world’s continuation, so you shoulder that burden without hesitation.

Thankfully, Coda calms down, the slightest raising of her shoulders lowering, as she takes a deep breath and forces her to relax.

“Very well, then. I shall relent, Li Song, despite the accusations you’ve brought against my character.” You nod and agree at a rapid pace. Coda’s magnanimity is unquestionable. If someone had told you that you didn’t adore your friends, and that you’d abandon them for a material object that they’d experienced, a fight would occur. Your counterpart’s decision to relent tells you that her character is better than yours. Far better. “However, I will not sit here cross legged again. If you will not allow me to utilize a chair, than you shall be my chair.”

It takes you a moment to process those words.

But, you sigh, get on your hands and knees, and chalk up another favor the whole of humanity owes you.

“Wrong.” Coda’s words stop you. You look up at her, confused and bamboozled, as you present your back to be sat upon. For some reason, despite the harshness of her word and the ill nature of her mood, she looks askance. One of her hands idly plays with a lock of her freely-falling hair. “I do not desire your humiliation. Only a seat. Your lap will suffice.”

For some reason, having Coda primly sit on your lap, with her tiny and slight frame, hurts your soul more than having her on your back.

But, nonetheless, you relent.

The world owes you so much for this, however.

…

Hyoudou arrives a few hours into your lazy day, having found time from his schedule to  visit you.

You greet him.

He drops everything he is carrying in his hands onto the floor, various video games, movies, and snacks, before falling to his knees.

Coda greets him, seated on your lap and consuming ice cream, whilst you watch a rather interesting movie.

Reflexively, you cover Coda’s ears, as soon as you take note of Hyoudou’s deep drawing of breath.

You do not know whether you’re protecting Coda, or Hyoudou’s reputation, but you do it.

“YOU SPENT THIS WHOLE DAY WATCHING MOVIES AND PLAYING GAMES WITH A CUTE GIRL ON YOUR LAP!?”

You don’t get a chance to defend yourself.

“YOU JUST WANTED TO SHOW OFF, DIDN’T YOU!?”

Or, convince Hyoudou to not run away, with an all-too-familiar cry upon his lips.

“GO DIE, NORMIEEEEEEEEE!”

At his passing, Coda swiftly plunders what Hyoudou has brought, before reclaiming her seat.

You can only sigh.

Your lazy day has been anything besides relaxing, as you expected.