A Songless lullaby
Not more than an hour has passed since I saw him last. Not more than an hour since I bid my good-bye, and not more than an hour ago since I uncovered the truth from the mask of a lie. The world seemed so much simpler then, then when I still held my two-dimensional views of the world and then when everything fell into neat little categories. Back when I could so easily distinguish the good from the bad, the hurt from the joy. But the moonlight, it does something to you. It makes you analyze things, wonder if you were actually the one in the wrong, wonder if your expectations blinded you from what was really there. So now I stand, staring out into a darkness which has become mine alone and feeling nothing but sad, sad pity for a woman who should've known better.
It's been too long since I've really taken a good look at the moon. I guess depending on ones frame of mind upon looking at it; it can either look like the radiance of a thousand jewels or the ivory phantasm of a barren dream. But all I see is the sad smile of a believer, hanging from a sky that even the bitter sun cannot find the heart to give reprieve. I try to smile, try to lighten this dismal scene and dispel this wicked spell that I'm under. This spell that makes my eyes bleed tiny water drops and numbs my face from the soft caress of the wind. But my lips stay fixed on its own accord, for I am no longer the master that pulls the strings. Just a small woman overlooking a vast empire, under the moon.
My head tilts towards the stars, and I linger on the sight before glancing down at the granite railing and the dark splashes that decorate its surface. I shiver into the thin material of my dress, my arms tightening their hold around one another in vain attempt to convince myself that I'm not cold, and that I should not be entertaining the thought of going back inside where its warm. Where there's light and radiance… where there's a mass of dancing bodies matched in harmony and sweeping across the night floor. I believe I'm better out here in the dark where no one can see me. Or where I can see no one and won't have to battle the tempestuous nature of my heart.
Xu told me once, after I had climbed my way to the top of the Triple Triad ladder, that it was an honor to have been beaten by someone like me, and that she felt no jealousy or humiliation despite the significant discrepancies between our ages. I felt then that I had truly become 'King', and that all my hard work had paid off, so fast and so quickly. I had begun my ascension towards greatness, as Cid used to say, and as the days went by I found myself in an environment where I could only keep on improving and where there would never be a dead end. In my time I have faced defeat, but yet every time I was able to pick myself off the ground, shrug off the loss and try again.
And now, a boy, a lowly, insignificant boy has been able to achieve what countless of defeats have failed to do?
I chuckle at the irony of it. My hand lifts and presses itself against my chest, and I feel the hurried pounding of my heart.
"Quistis?"
The laughter dies in my throat. The voice is strained, strained and wary of me. I find myself unable to turn around.
"Go away." I call back hoarsely, drawing further into my corner of the balcony. "I want to be alone right now."
"It's cold." He says, unemotional as always. I hear him take another step towards me and I cringe. "You should come in."
"For who Squall?" I snap. My hands start to shake. "For me? No, I like the cold. It's actually pretty nice compared to the hell I'm going through."
"Look Quistis!" He sounds angry now. As if he has any right to be. "I never meant to hurt you! I'll admit it; I've made a mess of things. But after Rinoa left for Esthar to learn more about her powers, I thought I was over her. But…"
"But you weren't." I finish for him. "You have your sorceress back Squall, and I'm happy for you. You can finally live out that little fairytale you initially envisioned for yourself and Rinoa. No one's stopping you."
He says nothing for a moment. And for that moment it goes back to being just me, the darkness, the moon and the wind. "This isn't like you Quistis."
"So I can't be bitter now?" I close my damp eyes. "I believed in you Squall. I believed in you too much and now I'm paying the price."
"I'm sorry."
"So go away." Then I say under my breath, but just loud enough so that he can hear, "Everything you touch begins to grieve."
I hear his footsteps retreating away from the balcony and back into the colored lights and silvery sounds. Fifteen years is a long time to love someone, a love which I know in my heart will take even longer to undo. Yet I feel somewhat content in my solitary space, standing here in my glass slippers like some princess from the pages of a fairytale, empty but peaceful. On whim I lean in to hear what whispers the wind has to offer, but instead listen to the hollow notes, notes from long ago…
The notes of a songless lullaby.
Authors notes: what you see is the result of a late night orange juice fest and being subjected to one of my friends endless soap opera tirades on a late Saturday night (just kidding Sarah, I really am interested in hearing about who's cheating on who, honest! *grin*.) I feel like I should stick a big TRASH label across the page… 'The tempestuous nature of my heart'. Sheesh. What the hell was I on? OJ must be a dangerous thing.