Moon City
Chapter I: Stars and Rain
The blood was not his own. The silver rain was fierce, descending against his lashes and his cheeks, but it could not cleanse the thick crimson streams, only caused it to drip. His lungs were weary having run so long a distance, his feet never stopping, the wind forever blowing.
His body ached, both physically and mentally. He wanted freedom from his world and from the outside world, a place where he could rest, let the darkness shroud his figure from the beings that pursued him. He wanted death, a final resting place where he could feel nothing and have nothing. His eyes could close their final time, he would not have to breath in the foul odor of life, but the fragrance of the underworld, where he belonged.
He would have it no other way. This was his life, a twisted spiral that knew only of blood and death and betrayal. He failed so many times, never able to rise above anything, his pinnacle being only the ground where his dreams and goals shattered. But the aspects of his past and his sure future did not ascertain what he would become tomorrow, it was the fact that he could not save her.
She didn't want to die, but she did, and he was to blame. They both had betrayed and in return, suffered the same fate. He was ready to leave the world and he didn't; she was to blame. He couldn't hate her, only himself.
Her blood mixed with the rain on his face, her blood would never be washed clean from his hands, and now they were pursuing him. So he ran far from the outskirts of Dollet, away from its mountainous terrain until he reached a dense forest. But he wouldn't stop, not even to catch his breath because he still heard the pounding hooves of their chocobos delving into the damp earth. They were still hot on his trail though he thought he had lost them.
He wasn't afraid to fight, he could stop but he would not. They would not be the ones to slay him, that was a job left to him. Their ranks outnumbered him greatly, though he was used to fighting ten men at a time, these bloodlust men were an army sent by the High Hand and they would never stop chasing him.
Then it began raining again and as he ran, the most peculiar scent passed over him. The scent of a Lotus Flower, an aroma he hadn't smelled since adolescence. Nostalgia washed over him suddenly and he found himself losing speed. His eyes wondered around him and realization hit him hard.
Lanky stems, very sizable and radiantly green waved under the torrent of rainy wind and the flower it supported, its leaves larger than his two hands put together, silver and white, swayed at eye-level as if carefully watching him. He realized that he had stopped, but he couldn't continue, the scent of the forest alone coerced him to stay. His ears picked up the soft melody of a woman singing.
He directed his attention, guided by the voice and found an overflowing river of black hair cascading to the bed of white and pink petals on the ground. Her hair, unnaturally dark, blacker than the darkest night, and her body, crouching to attend to a budding plant that much resembled the other Lotus Flowers shivering under the rain, was slender, wrapped in white silks that overlapped each other. They left her arms bare, but practically covered the rest of her, loosely engulfing her.
He found himself watching the plants again, his body growing more weary and weak and when he stepped forward, a petal crunched and the woman gasped with alarm. She had a golden band just above her eyes where a burnished pendant dangled, emitting a mysterious silver light. He did nothing to suppress her alarm for his own body failed him.
He soon came in contact with the sweet aroma of the scattered petals. He welcomed the blackness that soon followed.
A flute, its melody serene and therapeutic, wafted in with the breeze that rolled the bright ocean. At least that was what the constant white noise sounded like. A clear blue ocean with an aureate sun painted high into an azure sky and below, a circular brick walkway that led directly to the docks were small white ships sailed along the tranquil waters. Some were docked, awaiting the new shipments of delectable fish native of the land and whatnot.
But, the warm memories of his surroundings he knew did not belong to him. He had suddenly been immersed into a foreign world that he knew nothing about but knew exactly how to navigate it. The town was simple, a remote harbor town with a few plain residents who inhabited a simple resort. He felt as if he were in paradise.
And then, after being lost in his thoughts of tranquility, the wooden flute chirped into his ears again followed by a long note and then a long pause. The melody continued again and it was the same tune the woman whom he had encountered out in the forest had been softly singing.
So familiar and nostalgic. He loved hearing it as a child.
". . . and bring cold water . . . he'll . . ." A soft feminine voice faded in and out, but it continued to become nearer. He would have lifted himself from the comfortable bed beneath him, had he not felt the immediate aches and pains of his muscles. He winced and stilled himself. Languidly running a hand through his hair, his fingers came back down to his face and he realized the blood was gone.
Blood. Her blood.
Tranquility instantly jolted away from him and he popped from the pillow, his warrior instincts overflowing him. He hadn't known this place at all, and whoever planted the false memories into his mind was definitely a dangerous magic-weaver; the kind She had warned him about. He had always been keen whenever someone was out to do him in, and that was a trait he had acquired after his training, a trait he'd do well to never lose until his death.
Standing, his feet touched the ground and when his full weight leveled out, he went crashing into a convenient pillar situated in the middle of the small room that resembled a cottage. His fingers, aching and damp from sweat, tried their hardest to support him.
He found himself breathing hard and he didn't move until his breathing even out or was close enough to doing so. But before he could take another step, the wooden door to his right creaked open, only slightly. He glanced over toward the movement, already concocting the next action that needed to be taken for escape.
A woman—no, a maiden poked her moonlit head into the doorway, her eyes becoming instantly concerned as she saw the man breathing heavily barely able to stand. She was the same woman humming within the Lotus field. He had finally seen her face.
But something was oddly different. He remembered the never ending flow of raven hair crowning her beautiful features, and now her strands were silver, like the petals of the Lotus flowers, and her eyes warm and sweet, yet piercingly white as if blind.
She placed the tray on the brick floor, hurrying in his direction. Her small hands, tanned from being in the sun for so long a time, touched his abdomen, which he realized were wrapped in gauze pads, and she soon encircled his entire waist. She guided him back to the bed.
"Please, sir, you shouldn't be walking, not yet." She coaxed him further into the bed to the point where he was completely lying down, the sheets obscuring his body. He couldn't resist because of her voice and her touch was like a mother's. Any urge to escape left him. "I brought you some fruit from the Lotus, it will heal you within time." She attended to the neglected tray on the floor and brought it over to where he was. He was staring at the wooden ceiling, unblinking as if drugged.
He felt so damn good.
"I'm sorry, I gave you some of the fruit while you were sleeping. . . . But it was for the greater good I suppose." She placed the clear glass of water onto the side table next to his bed and the radiant colors of orange, purple, red, blue, and green reflected from behind it. The fruit was glowing an iridescent greatness. He felt as if the great spirits were purifying his tainted and rigged body.
The woman was now pacing about the room, accommodating his silent wish for more light into the room. She opened the draperies that surrounded the entirety of the room, and the man was soon experiencing the sight of the lovely seaward outdoors. White gulls, some dotting the horizon in the distance, flew pass and all he could see was the blue, clear skies. Nothing else. He didn't want to see anything else. The mysterious maiden—he knew she was maiden of some sort because that was included in his false memories, she was well known around town—opened the glass double doors that opened way to a small ashen balcony beyond. A single chair sat catacorner at the edge of the balcony.
"Who the hell are you," he managed to ask without his stomach not aching too bad. He sounded hostile as well as alarmed and his voice cracked from not speaking for quite some time. The woman glided back into the room, her white robes swaying with the now stronger breezes.
"I'm sorry, where are my manners?" She smiled a beautiful smile. The kind associated with heavenly goddesses. "My name is Mana and I welcome you to our village."
Our village, relying on his false memories again, she spoke of the citizens and the High Council who made up most of the village.
"What did you do to me?" Again, she smiled, all in hopes to disarm him.
"Well, I nursed you back to health. You've been here for nearly a week and I was beginning to fret. But now I see you're doing better."
"Damnit . . ." he mumbled, closing his eyes. Mana stepped closer to him and when he faced her she was practically shoving a piece of Lotus fruit into his mouth. He grimaced.
"Please, eat, this will calm you," she encouraged.
"I am calm and I'm getting the hell out of here."
"Please, wait, Seifer, I assure you. I do not want to harm you, I only want to help you. Until you get better, you must stay. When you are well, then you can go. Please, just focus on getting better." Her voice was so beseeching and motherly but with a hint of a child's voice who pleaded for him not to go. He didn't know what to do, primarily because he felt drugged, and secondly because he couldn't. Only his hostility seemed to permeate through his tranquility.
They were silent for a few minutes before Seifer broke it.
"How do you know my name? Who exactly are you?" As if ashamed, she turned away from him.
"You walked into our forest and startled me. But when you collapsed, I couldn't leave you, so I brought you here. Please don't be angry, I only wanted to help. I'm sorry if you don't trust me."
"Why do I feel like I know this place?" She looked at him again, the sadness still prevailing in her moonsilver eyes.
"Because that's the affect this town has on you. It will disperse if you stay long enough. . . ." No sooner had those words left her lips than the sun sank below the horizon suddenly and dark and gloomy skies covered the town. White and garish stars littered the skies. The flute suddenly stopped as did the flocking gulls. Seifer furrowed his eyebrows, and Mana ran to the balcony. She leaned her body over and a man, possibly the flute player yelled for her to take cover. She closed the glass double doors and with a single downward stroke of her arms every opened drapery and window closed. The room was pitch black, but she fixed it by materializing holographic candles, fabricated from her memories of them. "It's going to rain soon," she simply stated.
"With the fucking stars out?" He was terribly angry, and she hated hearing him yell. He rustled in the bed, rising again. This time the pain was bearable, perhaps because of the strange drugs that floated in his bloodstream now.
"It's an omen. The war grows more fierce."
War? What war? From the last he remembered, Dollet had been on peaceful terms with Galbadia and the other superpower, Esthar. Just where the fuck was he?
There was no time for questions. He had to leave. Now.
The rain pelted hard against the building they were housed in and they sounded more like rocks hitting against brick more than anything. He began his pace toward the door, but she held his wrist urging him not to leave. He pulled away, nearly throwing her frail body to the ground.
And then, the memories returned. His memories. The woman, the one he cared so much for filled his mind's eye. She was pleading into his eyes. She didn't want to die. And it had been raining. Her hand, caked with her blood rubbed against his cheek and fell at his lips. He had been holding her and then she became heavy and listless against his chest. She was staring at him, dead and pale.
He screamed, falling to the floor, holding his pounding skull.
She died and it was because of him.
It had rained like this moment, and he was still living.
Notes: Well, that was the first chapter, I hoped you liked it. I think that I'll continue with this story regardless of how many reviews I get. I'm too in to it now, lol. Expect the next chapter to be posted a little late, high school's been overruling everything in my life right now...
Shout out: (Hope she doesn't mind me doing this...) Anyone who's interested in reading a very interesting and involving storyline regarding mystical beings, Squall and Rinoa and a mysterious town with secrets waiting to be revealed, please check out a great fic called Sleepy Hyne. The author's only got 2 chapters up right now and hopefully she'll update soon. Please read!