She always slept with a revolver under her pillow.
It was old and tarnished and she didn't even know the proper name for it, but she knew how to use it. It was second nature now, a sad reality in a harsh world unnervingly different from the one where she had grown up.
She had other more efficient ways to protect herself, to protect her children, but she'd discovered that brandishing a gun did more to frighten a man with ill intent than telling him what she really was. Telling anyone that she was a sorceress in a time when the world was at war with a sorceress would only end in bloodshed.
On this ordinary morning, Edea Kramer slowly rose from her bed as light began to sift through her window; she felt a shiver as her soft, flannel blanket slid off her shoulders. She wore a white, sleeveless nightgown which meant that her arms were exposed to the chill of the morning. She had always been sensitive to cold, it was something that Cid often teased her about.
She fixed her eyes on the unused pillow beside her and patted it softly.
He was gone on one of his salvaging trips, she knew they were necessary but she missed him terribly when he was away. He was due back soon, the children would be happy to see him, no doubt eager to see what he'd brought them.
Cid always thought of the little details, he brought the children things like crayons, drawing paper and toys. It meant the world to them and it gave them one more reason to love Cid; it gave her one more reason to love him.
However each time she couldn't help but wonder who the items had belonged to, where those children were now. And every time she made herself think of something else, she pushed the thoughts out of her mind; but they always returned to her at night. Many times they would seep into her sleep haunting and warping her dreams into hellish nightmares of real and imagined horrors.
Her body stiffened as she heard a noise coming from inside the house; her hand automatically fastened around the grip of the revolver. She heard it again and relaxed her grip, it was the clatter of dishes; her assistant getting things ready for the day. She was a bad tempered and impatient young woman. Not someone that she would have chosen to work with, but she was a good cook and it freed up Edea's time so that she could spend it with the children.
The scent of baking bread slowly filled her bedroom.
She knew it was just a small detail but she liked her children to wake up to the smell of fresh bread. It reminded her of her childhood and made her feel safe, she wanted her children to experience at least a modicum of normalcy in this chaotic world. She knew that chaos was the new normal, but their home was safe, she had promised them that nothing and no one would hurt them as long as she was there. She intended to keep her word no matter what she had to do to make it so.
A grim thought suddenly struck her, the thought of their parents, of every parent that had made the exact same promise to their children. That they would keep them safe, that they would protect them from everything and anything.
But they had failed. Every one…
Pushing the somber thoughts out of her mind for the day, she left the warm haven of her bed and set her feet on the cold, stone floor.
Rubbing her arms she made her way to the old wardrobe on the opposite side of the bed and pulled out a short-sleeved gray blouse and a long, black dress. She dressed quickly and removed the ribbon from her silky black hair then closed the door to the wardrobe and studied her reflection in the built-in mirror. She took her hairbrush from the small and tattered wooden table sitting next to the wardrobe and began to brush her hair. There were times when she wished it was shorter, easier to manage, but Cid loved her long hair.
Before making her bed she reached under the pillow, pulled out the revolver and held it in her hand, the feel of its weight brought her a sense of safety though again, she had no need for the weapon.
There was a loose stone next to the window sill, Cid was the only other person who knew about it, they used the hollow space behind it to hide the revolver during the day as well as a bit of money and some jewelry that had been in her family for generations. She pulled out the rectangular stone slab and slid the revolver into the hole, then carefully set it back in place.
She pulled the shutters open and let the light in through her window. The sun was rising over the hills, beyond the flower field, in a breathtaking display of purples, oranges and pinks. It was her favorite part of the day, she was eager to see the flowers in bloom, which was due to happen soon. She breathed in the fresh morning air wishing that she had a cup of coffee, but with the times being as they were it was notoriously difficult to come by, she would have to settle for tea.
She fixed her gaze on the vegetable garden beneath her window; it was her pride and joy, what kept her children fed. She had a nice arrangement with an elderly couple who lived a few miles away from the orphanage, trading fresh vegetables for eggs and flour. She and Cid had tried on several occasions to convince them to sell them a few chickens, but so far they had refused. She didn't blame them, if she had chickens she would do the same.
There was a sudden movement that caught her eye, she automatically reached for the loose stone but quickly realized what she had seen.
Squall.
The children were not due to wake up for another twenty minutes or so, yet this little boy was out of his pajamas and dressed in jeans and an orange T-shirt.
He was running for the front gate.
Edea rushed out of her room and quickly passed through the common area, the front door had been left open but he was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the ivy-covered, broken columns as she walked through the weathered stone path that led out of the building.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw a man clad in black standing near the gate.
She slowed her steps, her expression calm and measured although her heart was thumping in her chest. If this man had hurt her little boy, there would be nothing but pieces of him left.
"Excuse me." She began cautiously. "Have you seen a little boy?"
Her eyes took in every detail, from his disheveled hair to the sweat on his brow and that scar between his eyes...
He was breathing hard, she supposed that he must have run there. Edea fixed her eyes on the weapon that he held, it was some type of sword that she had never seen before, judging by his stance and the ease with which he held it, she was certain that it belonged to him and that he knew how to use it.
A soldier.
"You don't have to worry." The young man answered. "The boy won't go anywhere."
His voice was even, almost monotone, there was a weariness to it that in years past would have seemed out of place in someone so young, but in a time of war it was almost expected. And a sadness in his eyes, steel-blue eyes that somehow put her worries at ease. There was something familiar about him, she realized as she regarded him, a long-lost acquaintance perhaps? She could not say, however, she was suddenly convinced that he was no threat.
"I think so too." She said as she lowered her guard before this familiar stranger. "Poor thing…"
She felt it before she saw it.
It was almost as if the force of a magnet twisted and merged with static electricity and gathered itself directly behind her. As she quickly spun around her suspicions were verified.
The power of a dying sorceress.
And suddenly her ordinary morning no longer was...
There would be no more ordinary days...her heart felt heavy, her lungs lacked air.
As the young man stood at the ready with his weapon in hand and anger burning in his eyes, Edea walked toward the glowing mass of pink and purple energy.
She knew what she had to do and she would gladly do it with no hesitation. She would have done it for anyone, literally anyone. Because a sorceress had once whispered her dying words into her ear.
The only thing worse than knowing you're going to die is wishing that you could.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed my take on Edea and Future Squall's meeting.
I got my fanfiction start writing for FF8 so it is very near and dear to my heart. I'm writing for the Tekken fandom at the moment but I was attacked by a vicious plot bunny and I just had to get it out of my system.
Thank you so much for reading!