I do not own Tales of Symphonia or any of the characters in it. They belong to Namco.
First Impressions
Kratos Aurion stood straight and tall, hand rested upon the hilt of the sword at his side, positioned atop the edge of the rocky overhang towering over the group. His face was wary and apathetic as he surveyed the landscape ahead. Just a never-ending wasteland, life stunted and sucked dry by the unrelenting glare of a scorching dictatorship and scarceness of life giving moisture. The tanned horizon swelled and dipped, landscape constantly shifting over the decades by the currents of the wind that billowed daily through the dessert, lifting clouds of sand that pelted cruelly into the faces of any unfortunate traveler forced to traverse it. Shifting ruby-tinted eyes upward, the man noticed how late it was getting. The sun was just a blinding smudge casting its last desperate rays of light over the barren region it owned. The sky had become mesmerizing, with dark hues of burgundy and indigo overcast by the purple wine color that had begun to seep over the light blue that dominated during the ungodly hot days. The pulsing heat had finally begun to relent in its daily battering; soon the seared climate would take a bi-polar turn and transform to an uncomfortably cold night.
A sudden spurt of wind raced over the top of the small cliff shielding the chosen and the group of travelers the mercenary had been ordered to guide, and hired to protect. His ruffled hair picked up and was thrown by the wind, dancing and brushing across the face it concealed in an annoying manner. A gloved hand was lifted to flick away an offending lock of hair disrupting the man's sight. Kratos sighed; he could really use a scrunchy. The gust died and the air was still and empty once again. Nothing was coming. In every direction lay a long expanse of sandy nothingness. No enemies or beasts to guard the Chosen from tonight. He could return to the others now, for a time, if he wanted.
The man leaned slightly forward and cast his sight downward. He had been traveling with the two silver haired siblings and Chosen for three weeks now, and he now silently observed them as they prepared the night's dinner. The young and short magician was doing the majority of the work, throwing carefully measuring out spices and fussing over the height and intensity of the flames licking hungrily below the pot bubbling over it. The blue eyed blonde was smiling and saying something cheerfully to her young "Elvin" friend as she helped cut up vegetables for the soup. The head of their little band was lying against the heap of packs abandoned not far from the fire, spectacles pushed up her nose as she studiously scanned the contents of a thick text held open in her hands. Kratos wasn't sure why, but the young kendama wielding boy always managed to shun his bossy and at times disturbingly abusive older sister away when it neared meal times.
He had learned a lot about these people in the few weeks he had spent surreptitiously studying them. The ever-cheerful blonde cutting carrots below him was named Collete, the angel bound Chosen. She had an annoying habit of apologizing unnecessarily and Kratos had soon learned that she had to be watched closely, for, if left to her own devices, she would sooner or later stumble over even the smallest of impediments, injuring herself. The silver haired siblings were named Genis and Raine. Kratos was leery of these two. The others of the group trusted them completely, but Kratos had noticed right off the bat that the two "Elves" weren't who they said they were. Their deception and simply their true identity were things to take note of in the swordsman's calculating mind.
The hardened man's eyes scanned the bedrock below him, looking for the last and by far most upsetting member of the group.
Lloyd.
His eyes finally rested upon the red clothed seventeen year-old directly below him, who was leaned against the rock face. This is who he had been studying most closely of all. At first he didn't believe it, didn't want to, but the more time he spent around the unknowing teen, the harder it became to deny it. He was his son. This cheerful, joking, and at times exasperating person was his son. Of course, the young swordsman-in-training didn't know it, and hell if Kratos would ever tell him, even Kratos, who had accepted truths as terrifying as an immortal life, was having a hard time believing it.
It wasn't so much the fact that he had accepted the murder of his family for fourteen long years only to have it turned on its head that made this hard to accept. Now that he knew the truth, it was more the fact that the kid was nothing like him. Their personalities were polar opposites. The mercenary was a silent, often cold and distant figure in the group, while the spiky haired brunette always seemed to have something to say, and was always friendly and open. As a joke, the teen had even tried to give the unsuspecting angel a hug once earlier on in the journey, "Just to see your reaction!" Lloyd nearly lost his head that day.
Physical similarities were also few and far between. Sure, they both had the same lean, toned, and broad-shouldered figure of a warrior (though Lloyd's was not yet as developed), and if you looked closely enough you could see a miniscule reflection of the wine that dominated Kratos' eyes in the deep brown of the younger adult's, but other than that, they were as differentiable as a tortoise from a chipmunk. For such a strong and capable man, the ancient seraphim had extremely recessive genes.
The part of the kid that clinched the fact that this person was his offspring were the traces of Anna that Kratos saw in nearly everything the boy did and said. The same bottomless eyes, chocolate hair, corny humor, and warm friendliness that Kratos had fallen in love with nearly two decades before were echoed in Lloyd. Kratos often found his mind straying off to the warm memories of his past whenever his son would say or do something particularly nostalgic. For instance, whenever the teenager laughed (which was actually quite often) the auburn haired man's heart would pinch with memories of Anna, for Lloyd's laugh was indistinguishable from his mother's; kind and pure, reflecting the heart that it stemmed from. This had to be his wife's son, and seeing how he had never let his family out of his sights as long as he had had them, Kratos was more than likely the father.
In the three weeks he had known Lloyd, he had learned three fundamental aspects about him; one, he was a very optimistic person, so optimistic and idealistic, that it sometimes saddened Kratos that the ignorant teenager did not know the true sobering state of affairs his world and friend's life were trapped in. The second notable attribute of his son was his carefree and friendly attitude. He was an easy person to get along with from what the mercenary had observed, just as Anna had always been. Thirdly and lastly, the boy was stubborn. Oh no, he couldn't have stayed in Iselia, home and safe like a good boy. Instead he had followed the three on their journey for salvation, all the way out to the distant and unforgiving sands of Triet, sporting his best friend along with him. Nothing was going to keep Lloyd from doing what he felt was right. In truth, Kratos envied his son's determination. If only he had that, maybe the seraphim wouldn't be in the shameful position he was in today, serving under the organization that had destroyed everything he once treasured in life.
The man leaned further over the jagged cliff edge, mouth tightening and eyes focusing, trying to make out what the red figure was doing detached from the group. Lloyd was hunched over something… a book and paper? He was studying? One eyebrow rose in confusion, among other things, Kratos had learned that his son was not an intellectual. Lloyd and a book did not make a happy couple. His red eyes narrowed and he shifted slightly to the left, trying to see around the boy's brown head and what he was really doing.
… He seemed to be writing something. Kratos leaned further to the left, tapping into his angelic senses and using his superior and much clearer vision to further investigate.
He buried his face in his palm.
The dork that was his direct descendant was doodling a thick-lipped face on his balled hand, making… smooching noises as he did so.
Definitely Anna's son.
The hand slowly slid away from Kratos' exasperated features, wondering how he could produce something so easily entertained. Kratos let out a final, heavy sigh, and decided it was about time to join the group again.
The boots landed next to Lloyd with a dull but heavy thud, stirring a cloud of dust around them. The mercenary straightened and brushed himself off of the brown powder collecting on his pants, just barely hiding a wicked smirk that twinkled in his eyes as he watched the teen shout and shove away from his previous "studying spot", ending up in a disgruntled sprawl several feet away from his original perch.
"Holy crap! Where the hell did you come from!?" The brown eyes were wide and shocked by the sudden arrival of Kratos, who he thought had disappeared to do whatever show-offy jerks like him did around this time of the day. Lloyd was now covered with the dirt he had upset while trying to displace himself from the sudden emergence. He stood up and gathered the paper, quill, and discarded book scattered at his feet.
"I wanted rain, not mercenaries!" …Another bad pun that Kratos had come to expect from the teen. Lloyd stepped over to his original post, and plopped down, lifting the cover of the book and flipping through to the page he had once had it opened to. He lifted his eyes to the mercenary and made a shooing motion with his "decorated" hand.
"I'm studying, don't bother me."
The purple caped man once again lifted his eyebrows and this time let the smirk he was concealing under his mask show through his voice, "Really?" His eyes stared pointedly at the hand waved lazily before him.
The teen's face turned nearly as maroon as his outfit, and he conspicuously darted his hand behind his back, groping for the glove he had once been wearing.
Kratos did not move as he watched his flustered and now embarrassed son grapple with the task of concealing his own absent-minded artwork. Instead he scanned the book on Lloyd's lap, wondering what the topic he was inefficiently working on was. It was algebra. He looked to the piece of paper on top of it, and saw what was unmistakably the neat and sharp handwriting of the motherly tyrant who was now contentedly reading by the fire. None of the problems sketched out were answered.
"X minus one squared."
The younger swordsman's head snapped up from pulling his glove over his hand, dark eyes glaring.
"What?"
"That's the answer to the first question, x minus one squared. If you factor and cancel, that's the simplified form." Kratos' voice was matter of fact and monotone, assuring that he didn't sound too kindly as he offered his help.
Lloyd blinked and turned his face downward to his paper, scribbling hastily in the first blank space at the top. He turned his head upward feverously as he finished and looked up to the smarter-than-he-guessed man with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
"Uh… Hey, you think you could help me with the next one too?" The boy's face had changed from its usual jealous and unfriendly (for Lloyd) features to one shadowed with the hope of salvation from his teacher-imposed hell.
The man exhaled softly, averting his eyes and hesitating before silently stepping over to where his son was seated, assuming a cross legged pose at his side. Kratos lifted a hand and held it out expectantly, "Let me see the assignment then." His voice sounded slightly tired and unhappy, but Lloyd didn't notice in his ecstasy, even ignoring the oddness of the always unsociable man's desire to help. The paper was shoved energetically toward the mercenary, Lloyd not wanting to have anything to do with it.
Kratos eyes scanned over the next question, his mind, conditioned by thousands of years of study, quickly unfolding and solving the riddle it posed.
"The answer to this one is x plus five divided by y minus two…" Lloyd's gloved hand eagerly reached out to retrieve back the paper and write down the answer once again, but it was stopped as Kratos' hand blocked its path.
"But you aren't going to write the answer until you listen to the steps I took to arrive upon it," the cold, reddish eyes flicked upward from the paper to the face which was now twisted by a pained and unwilling expression. He should have known it wouldn't come so easily.
So, Lloyd sat and honestly tried to follow Kratos' explanation of factoring and polynomials and other long words he didn't care to memorize. As he finished, Kratos offered up the answer sheet, which was imediatly and gratuitously grabbed.
This time Lloyd was carving down the steps Kratos had just explained to him under the answer. He supposed it would look suspicious if he simply had answers written down with no sign of work. Lloyd had done that once before (he had copied of course, but that's beside the point) and he had been awarded for his stupidity with several smacks on his ten-year old rump. Lloyd had always made it a point to copy Genis's assignments with a suitable supply of supporting work alongside it from that point onward.
Lloyd's eyes were pointed downward as he scratched out the steps, "Thanks Kratos. You actually aren't that bad… Didn't expect you to be so smart though... And here I thought you were just this show off bastard who didn't actually give a damn as long as he got the jo-" Lloyd had finished answering the question, and stopped mid-sentence as he looked back to his new-found mentor's face. He clamped his mouth shut and gulped, smiling nervously. The mercenary's eyes had narrowed into a petrifying glower and the corners of his lips were turned into an even more prominent frown than usual. His peeved expression looked intimidating as his face was shaded by his untamed hair.
"Err…" Lloyd placed a hand behind his head awkwardly, wishing he would think more before he started yammering. "How about question three?" His voice had become tiny and overly hopeful, nervous and fearful expression never leaving his face.
The mercenary never changed his expression or broke eye contact as he stood up and straightened to his full height, looming over Lloyd like a precariously placed boulder.
"I think you can answer the rest of the questions yourself with the information I have given you." The reply came in an empty and controlled voice. With that, Kratos turned away and stalked over to the group of three now filling wooden bowls with savory smelling soup.
"…" Lloyd stared off at the retreating back of the purple caped mercenary, with regret glittering tragically in his eyes.
Damn
He knew it was too good to be true. Math and all the other subjects he had to study under Raine's rule were just out to get him.
He looked back down to question three, doubtful that he could actually do it himself, and grimaced.
Yeah right.
He decided instead that his hand needed a mustache.
Sooooo... What did you think? Was it bad? Good? Is there anything you particularly didn't like or something I could change to improve my writing? Please review, this site has an awesome community and I like to know what you guys think! I hope you enjoyed it! And happy writing to you all!
Oh yeah, and for those of you who caught it, I have watched "Kratos' Hair Troubles" on Youtube ha ha.
