Winter Wind
Jazz/Falsetto Oneshot
To be truly honest, with oneself, and with others, a fickle soul must be in solitude. Even lost, if only to know that the one return to those they loved would be through fate that guided them, and not the icy hand of jealousy, or anger's fiery fists...
Not knowing east or west, north or south, only that she would be completely alone, away from faces she recognized as friends or enemies. If any place was more fitting, it was difficult to be sure. It felt right with such things around her; freezing wind and brittle ice, that mirrored the confines of her heart. Baroque truly was a beautiful place, in it's own way. As if everything in the world had come to a slow, calming stop. She'd been there only once, and sadly, it had been with him; a day he'd taken her and Claves to discuss aid for Andantino. Of course he'd taken Claves, even though she was new. He'd already forgotten all about her by then.
After all, he'd probably wanted someone prettier. Sexier. Smarter. All around better than she was. It was obvious, he found her too boyish, not delicate enough. Even though she hated being called unladylike. That's why he'd lost interest...
It's not like she couldn't survive without him, though. She knew that. But it was difficult to think of life without his presence... His calming voice...
"I need you, Falsetto."
"I missed you, Falsetto."
"No one can ever replace you, Falsetto."
Words like that rung in her memory, even though she knew now for certain that they weren't true, and never would be. Not after what happened.
"Why did Claves have to die?"
She mouthed those words, and thought them silently, too many times to count. It made her sick to her stomach to think she could be so shallow; Claves was her close friend, and yet the sorrow she wanted so badly to feel would always be covered by her own jealous desires. It made her want to scream, and she did, and she cursed cursed Claves for dying, and she cursed herself for letting her die. It was the only way to bring herself solace.
"If I don't have any hope left... What purpose is there in returning to him?"
A painful thought, as the truth often was. Turning back, she gazed at her solitary trail. The needle-covered trees above now seemed to loom over her, the snow trickled from their branches, and in solemn company, silent tears rolled down her cheek. In kind, her heart beat loud and hot, and she brought her own arms around her just to silence the pain. Her feeble touch did nothing but cause her more and more grief. Her hands shook; she removed her gloves and stared down at her quivering palms, but no frost clung to her skin.
"Why..." She whispered, though only she could hear, "why wont this let me move on?"
"What did I do to deserve this... What did Claves do?"
"Now that she's gone... He'll never get over her..."
Her hands continued to shake, even as she stepped forward, back into her endless journey with no destination. It was beginning to get late, the sun slowly losing ground against the night, and as it fell, it dyed the snow a deepening red. What little chirping and trotting through the brush that had brought life to the taiga, now silent.
"We truly are masters of destruction," The girl whispered to the silence, "and not only of our bodies, but our hearts as well."
"I can only think of myself... I don't deserve Jazz, or Claves..."
And as though she would come to no further truth, she took no further step in her direction. Taking wary steps, she turned again to face her winding path, back to where she'd begun, the city of Baroque.
The trail led her, but no further than an hour's walk. By then, the falling snow had covered all but the deepest impression, and though she'd always felt she'd had a keen sense of her surroundings, such a strange place left little to remember as landmarks for her journey back. It was possible, she feared, that she may not make it back at all.
Her fears, as she soon saw with great relief, would not become reality. As the light dimmed further, the glowing lamps that lit the road caught her eye. The path led back to the city of Baroque, to a warm Inn and a good night's sleep. A solitary figure walked the path in the opposite direction; a woman, it seemed. Her strides rattled with the sound of clanking armor.
The path of streetlights led her down the empty road to Baroque, the sound of rattling metal growing fainter and fainter until it disappeared altogether, and the woman's striding figure vanished behind the clouds of frost. The sound had been quite familiar, no doubt, she had fought many battles with Andante against Waltz's men, who were often clad in metal, unlike her and her companions, who did not have the money to fit themselves in such luxuries.
In fact, the woman's armor was more than familiar… There was no doubt it was made for one of Waltz's superiors…
Cursing herself for such a steep lack of judgement, Falsetto swung herself around and sprinted after the sound.
"If Waltz's officers have come here, that could only mean… Some kind of attack! An assassin?"
"What is she after? Crescendo? Serenade? …Jazz? Could he be here?"
Her pace faltered as the thought crossed her mind, her mind still racing over reasons and questions that all led to the same conclusion: he was in danger, she knew it. Through some impossible divination, she knew he must be there, where the woman in armor was headed so intently.
No matter what happened, even if Jazz could never forgive her, she knew then that she must find him, one last time...
A short little ES fic! I hope I'm not the only one that purposefully left Claves dead because of shipping...