The horizon-line was where the sky was at its bluest, and as her head rose it became increasingly transparent, until she was staring straight up, where the sky looked black.
Holo lowered her head and pondered the phenomenon, rubbing the back of her neck in discomfort. Her eye lids were heavy with lethargy, but it was too early for another nap. She yawned into her hand and stretched, her tail becoming taut, its fur rising on end for several moments.
“It's a nice day.” Craft Lawrence kept his hands on the reigns and his eyes forward. The passive smile on his lips showed his contentment.
“Aye. It seems the storm has finally passed.”
The days before had involved dark clouds swooping in with little warning, and with them came heavy winds leaden with droplets of water, sometimes leading into unpredictable downpours that ended as quickly as they had begun.
“Thankfully. I was beginning to worry your fur might never completely dry.”
“How thoughtful,” she spoke with sincerity, but immediately followed with a playful glance, “...or maybe it was just the cold of the rain that had made you long for my tail's warmth?”
Lawrence chuckled. It was not rare for his true feelings to be revealed by Holo's astuteness, but normally she did not see through him quite so quickly.
“Though, I must admit I am thankful as well. Grooming wet fur can be tedious.” The tip of her tail flicked underneath her robe. “When it is wet, it becomes heavy, and the knots become difficult to sift through. 'Tis worse when it is dried and then wet again. It can become a truly frustrating task.”
“...I never realized having fur was so complicated.”
“'Tis hardly complicated... yet, it does seem to come with its complications.”
“A wise statement.” Lawrence smiled. “Reminds me of someone I know.”
Holo glared back at him in annoyance. “This mystery person must be quite interesting. 'Tis a shame I cannot say the same about you.”
“...Would you prefer me to be more complicated, then-?”
“-No.”
Her answer caught him off guard. He glanced over and found her inches from his face, a mocking smile on her lips.
“I prefer you simple. You are easier to tease.”
Lawrence swallowed, realizing the moment the spit slid down his throat that any chance of coming out on top had gone with it. She returned to her side of the cart, smiling. Lawrence grimaced.
“...Do not be like that. If you were as complex as I, who would I have to make fun of?”
“You say that as if complexity is a good thing.” He spoke with exaggerated sulk.
“Are you saying that it is not?”
Lawrence responded with mild astonishment. “What do you mean? Of course simplicity is preferable to complexity. Why would I want something needlessly complex...?”
Holo turned away from him, seeming to consider the question deeply. Several moments later, she turned back and responded: “Is it not true then that certain things in this world are not needed, but are at the same time?”
“Not needed and are at the same time...?”
“Aye. What is a need one day might merely be a fancy the next. And who is to say what the next day will hold?”
“Hmm.”
Lawrence sat in silent contemplation, skeptical at first, but slowly beginning to see the dual meaning behind her words. One could argue that needs are the only things a person truly “needs,” but in a way, that is not true, as that assumes the goal itself is just staying alive, and forgets the critical aspect of satisfaction.
If he were lost in the woods with no supplies, things like bread, cheap brews, and even basic companionship would begin to seem like luxuries, all things that had grown to be a given to him in his current state. However, if he had those things and more, such as the shop he had been dreaming about for years, he would not simply be able to ride the waves of complacency to old age. He would feel compelled to utilize his shop to bring in greater profits, and would likely risk everything on that journey for the constantly fleeting phenomenon known as contentment.
The complexity Holo referred to was more than just additional steps on the way to gratification. She referred to complexity as the goal itself, in the same way a mountain climber views the mountain. The peak and the journey are not so far removed when one considers two antithetical terms in unison.
“Do you see now?”
Lawrence could feel the smugness emanating off of her. He had been bested thrice thus far. He had to even the score.
“I do.”
“...?”
“But do not forget, the peak is the goal of the mountain climber, while the mountain is the enemy. Complexity itself is what we seek to defeat... to simplify it and hold it in our hands.”
She looked back at him with a pout.
Lawrence glanced at her and turned away again, a smile returning to his face. A moment later, he felt warm air brush against his ear lobe. He turned around and found her on her hands and knees, inches from his face.
“He thinks himself a philosopher now, eh? Give a dog a bone and he will have the wisdom to hide it. I suppose the same cannot be said for merchants.”
This time Lawrence resisted the urge to swallow.
“I know I will regret asking this... but am I wrong?”
“Consider this: it is through difficulty that we find love.” She retook her seat.
“...So it is through complexity that we find satisfaction?”
“Not exactly, no.”
“Then what is it?”
Lawrence waited several moments for her reply, but it never came. She was looking straight ahead, the hood of her robe blocking her face from view.
“I suppose she wants me to figure it out for myself....”
Lawrence pondered it for about a minute before breaking the forced silence. He considered suggesting difficulty or love were the paths to satisfaction, but found the answers insufficient, and knew Holo would have no mercy on him if he answered not only wrongly, but poorly as well....
“Is it through triumph?” He looked over at her, as a child does seeking approval.
The smile that crossed her lips was one of true pleasure. “So now I will ask: what is a mountain climber without a mountain to climb?”
“Ah....” Another content smile settled on Lawrence's lips. “So both simplicity and complexity have their places, then?”
“As the night and day have theirs.”
They had grown silent, but their surroundings were noisy with the chirping of birds and the sound of the breeze stirring up the grass. The wheels of the wagon rumbled against the dirt, creaking almost inaudibly, and the sound of horseshoes moved along with it, like a metronome. He inhaled deeply and took in the intermingling scents of various trees and greenery, detecting the faint hint of leather from the cargo in the back and the even fainter smell of wine emanating from Holo's lips....
His eyebrows tightened. “Holo!”
She brought the jug to her lips and took another swig before replying. “What is it?”
“What are you doing?! It's still morning!”
“Oh. Where are my manners...?” She extended the jug out to him, as if to offer him a drink.
“No! T-that's not-” he faltered and then sighed. “That's not what I mean. Why are you drinking so early?”
“'Tis such a nice day. Seems I could enjoy it a bit more with wine.”
“Can't you at least wait until dinner?”
“By then the day will be long past.”
“That is... true, but... that is still no reason to drink so early!”
“If you would like for me to put it away, then say so. There is no need to chastise me like I am a child.” She turned away from him in an ironically child-like way.
“Yes,” he sighed. “I would like you to put it away.”
“So be it then.” She plugged the jug and twisted around to set it in the back of the cart. When she turned back around, her eyebrows tightened and she glanced down toward her lap. “Could you please stop for a moment? I would like to relieve myself.”
He sighed again. “Can you wait until we get to the next town? I am in a bit of a hurry, and if we don't arrive there soon, I may not have time to move this leather. I'd really rather not be held up another day just for that.” She scowled back at him. “How long do you think I plan on taking?”
“Every minute counts.... Look, town isn't far. I'm sure we'll be there before noon. You can hold it.”
“Before noon, eh...?” She turned around to inspect the positioning of the sun. “I suppose I can wait if it is really so important to you.” She spoke with marked annoyance.
“Thank you.”
She frowned and crossed her arms. It was a position that said 'this isn't over,' but Holo's greatest weapon against Lawrence was patience, and this was one game where time was not on her side.
As the wheels of the cart continued on, Holo found herself looking back increasingly often to check the movement of the sun. It was a shameful position to find herself in, primarily because it could have been circumvented entirely if she had just asked for him to stop the moment she had felt the need to go. Reiterating her need to stop so soon after her initial request would reveal to Lawrence that she had been holding it in for quite some time, much like a child having too much fun to take a break from playing. Worse yet was the rebounding it would have on their previous conversation, which would reveal just how caught up in it she had been.
She glanced down at her lap to see if the form of her legs pressed tightly against each other was visible beneath her robe, and seeing that it was not, she placed a precautionary hand on her thigh, keeping it close to her privates in case she had to suddenly react. It was ridiculous to let things grow so bad that she would consider emergency plans over just re-imploring Lawrence to stop, but each time she tried to find the right words to form her request, nothing came.
After what felt an eternity of silence and subdued squirming, she was struck with an unpleasant twinge in her abdomen, and a realization of regret. The few mouthfuls of wine she had consumed, though not enough for even a light-buzz, had triggered her least favorite affect of alcohol: a powerful need to urinate with an alarmingly quick onset. She took a moment to consider how much more bearable her dilemma would be while drunk, but quickly reconsidered, knowing that if she were drunk, she would have long forced Lawrence to stop with her wine-loosened tongue.
She swallowed nervously as one of her legs started to flex and then lightly bob at the knee. She internalized the desire to fidget, but the result was a slow accumulation of unreleased tension in the base of her gut, filling her lower areas with a strong urge to push, and lessening her ability to resist the already crippling pressure. It dawned on her that hiding her need would soon cease to be a possibility, as she would either become so obvious Lawrence would see through her, or in her vehement resolve to keep herself still, she would inadvertently wet herself, ending the farce in the worst possible way.
She mentally debated her options: to either continue on in stubbornness and wait for Lawrence to take notice of her situation, making her both look and feel like a child in the process; or speak up and force him to stop the wagon, revealing her aforementioned holding during their verbal spar. As she struggled to decide, she hid light motions beneath her robe, knowing that if she did not conclude otherwise soon, Lawrence would catch on.
Her pondering went on, and then continued on, the pressure growing worse with each tick that passed. She had originally thought that making no choice meant Lawrence discovering the predicament on his own, but when twenty more minutes passed, she could no longer bear the fruits of his density, and both of her legs began to vibrate with quick, wide movements. How he had not seen the movement from the corner of his eye or felt the disturbance in the wagon from her constant shifting around was nothing short of a mystery to her. She was beginning to suspect he had caught on awhile ago, but was deliberately remaining quiet.
Over the unbearable waves of pressure coming from between her legs, she could delegate little energy to deciphering Lawrence's intent and level of insight. All she knew was that if she did not speak soon, her worst case scenario was going to happen. Her lips spread an imperceptible distance, in preparation for the words she was still not sure how to speak, when suddenly, with a sensation similar to a mountain climber finding much needed footing on a narrow steep, she felt the pieces connect together.
The idea occurred to her with a sudden wave of frustration. Without a word, she got up and moved herself to the back of the wagon, placing a hand against her overburdened privates the moment she was out of sight. Lawrence could have stopped at any point, she reasoned. He knew she had needed to go, and instead, he chose to forgo a minor inconvenience that would have brought her much relief.
It's just like a chamber pot, she continued reasoning, smiling with malevolent pleasure.
Lawrence could hear a quiet rustling behind him, the first noise unrecognizable, the second sounding akin to fabric brushing against other fabric. He turned back curiously and was greeted by a truly peculiar sight: Her robe was pulled up, her pants were pulled down, and her tail was arched up higher than usual, her exposed bottom facing toward him. He saw her behind quickly descend, the faintest trace of liquid dribbling down as she lowered it. There was the sound of water droplets against wood, and as her butt collided with the top of a bucket, the water droplets turned into a full on blast beating into the side of the bucket.
She sighed with a slightly pained expression that soon turned into bliss.
“H-Holo!”
“I am in heaven...”
“Wh-wh-what are you... What are you doing?!”
“What does it look like?”
“What makes you think that-” he faltered. “I just... why are you...? Why are you peeing in a bucket?!”
“Do not act as if this is not your fault! I asked you to stop.”
“Y-yes, that's true, but... if it was that bad you could have just said something!”
“I shouldn't have needed to. If it was just a few more miles, I would have understood, but trying to guilt trip me into holding it for so long.... That is just cruel. Hmpf.” She turned away from him, still peeing a heavy stream into the bucket.
“I...” Lawrence continued watching her with astonishment, his cheeks a dark shade of red.
“There is no need to apologize. I believe with this we are even.... Also, I do hope you enjoyed gawking at me like a confused child the entire time.”
Lawrence turned away muttering incomprehensibly.
Holo's stream came to a creeping stop, and when it finished, she pulled up her pants and dumped the contents of the bucket out of the back of the wagon onto the road. She then returned to the front of the wagon and took her seat next to Lawrence.
“...You know I use that to feed the horse? I'm going to have to wash it out when we get to town.”
“Maybe you should have considered that before making an unreasonable demand of me.”
Lawrence knew better than to respond. He just turned away with a mixture of confusion and stoicism.... But after several moments, the words seemed to leave his mouth on their own accord:
“Really, though... How long did you have to go? I've never heard someone pee that-ow!”
Holo stomped on his foot and crossed her arms in annoyance, turning away from him with her cheeks blushing warmly. Much to her dismay, he had concluded precisely what she had hoped would stay out of his thoughts.
Lawrence turned away, smiling wryly. She may have won battle after battle, but attrition had won him the war..
