Written for Shinkirou as part of the 2013 Doink! Final Fantasy Exchange.
Thanks to my wonderful beta, accidental zombie, who was absolutely incredible. Any errors or awkward turns of phrase are my own from my last-minute tweaking.
Oerba was a village like any other in Gran Pulse. Wind turbines, solar panels, tactile plates in the houses. They even had small rotors in the outlets at the bottoms of their water towers. A hodgepodge mix of devices that generated the electricity they required for daily life. The valley that stretched away below the village grew their crops, and the rocky plains over the rise behind their town, on the other side of the highway, had free-ranging game, clear fresh rivers. In Cocoon's shadow, under the weight of the history that lay between the fal'Cie Pulse and Lindzei, they subsisted.
Oerba was unique only in one respect: it had its own fal'Cie. Very few country towns had fal'Cie; villages even fewer. It added prestige, yes, and some welcome income from tourists. Government funding. But more importantly, it required the supply of attendants to serve the fal'Cie. On every child's eighteenth birthday, they entered the vestibule within the temple and offered themselves to Anima. Generally, as there was no need for l'Cie to protect the temple, no one was branded. Fang hadn't thought twice about mounting the temple stairs on her eighteenth birthday and had expected to return home for dinner and cake. Instead she received a burning ache in her arm and a vision of something huge. It was of an unfulfilled destiny; revenge on Lindzei and Cocoon, on behalf of Pulse and Gran Pulse.
Being selected as l'Cie had burned the humanity out of Fang's soul. She surrendered her family name and became Oerba Yun Fang. There hadn't been any dedicated l'Cie quarters for years, so she had made herself at home in an office upstairs from the old warehouse at the far end of town. Two years she lived alone and tried to understand her focus, while avoiding attention from tourists. Life wasn't bad. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of becoming a Cie'th, or a crystal, but Anima wasn't a hard task master. Some fal'Cie, when they took a human as their l'Cie servant, forced them into action using their brands. With each development of the mark, the deadline for one's focus drew closer. Fang's hadn't changed in two years. Since most l'Cie were considered lucky if they lived two weeks, she counted herself pretty fortunate, all things considered.
However, she hated the duties and suddenly being this public face. Everyone was talking about destiny, and wasn't it so incredible, so noble, and weren't fal'Cie just amazing?
They weren't bad, Fang thought, but given that some fal'Cie were quite decent, and others utter bastards - going right back to Pulse and Lindzei themselves - it wasn't right to say something like that. You never knew, because fal'Cie never spoke directly to you. Never explained anything. Just a slap on the arse and out the door you go and please don't forget to fulfill this bafflingly odd image of an explosion.
.
She was used to the isolation and being different from everyone. To the rule of no more birthdays, and no more birthday cakes. She became used to all of the long and tedious conversations with anthropologists and historians who tried to interpret her three-second focus dream. Life was stable, and she got a government pension for services to the nation, or something. She had her routines.
That is why it was so odd when someone knocked on her door at twilight. Early evening, really. Most callers came in the mornings or afternoons. Generally, Fang knew in advance who was coming. There weren't any rules about l'Cie and visitors, but Fang had rules of her own. She didn't like to be disturbed.
She swung the door open and leaned in the doorway, prepared to send whoever it was away for the night. "Hello and what's your business here?"
A young girl, eighteen years old, was shaking and pale-faced in front of her. A kid from the school, couple of years behind Fang. Her name was...
"Oerba Dia Vanille," she introduced herself bravely. "Today was going to be my birthday, but... I was chosen."
Fang remembered her first night as a l'Cie. She had cried and shouted, then skulked around town in the dark, before she been able to face explaining things to her parents. She had grabbed just enough clothing for the night. This girl looked like she'd come straight from the temple to Fang's doorstep, because l'Cie couldn't go home to their families and had to take new surnames. And yes, if you went on a technicality, that meant they counted as clan to one another.
Fang knew it was stupid, but part of her didn't want to let the girl in. Fang had gone through everything the hard way and it hadn't hurt her. There was no small print in her focus dream that stated she'd have to look after anyone else who got themselves branded. She knew it was petty. Inside her heart, a tiny voice was still screaming in anger because there had been nobody there to help her when she'd needed it most.
"You'd better come in," Fang said. "I'll make some tea."
Vanille looked around Fang's small home curiously. She picked this and that up, smiling when she discovered the quilts and blankets in the cupboard. "This isn't so bad!"
"Well, of course not. When I was starting out, a lot of people from the village wanted to help. And, well, if most of the stuff here came from a couple whose daughter had gone, er, missing, very recently, that's none of my business."
Vanille gasped. "You mean this is your stuff?"
"Yes, it's in my house. The rules? They're just traditions in place to help the l'Cie gain the detachment they need to fulfill their focus. You still technically own all the stuff that's in your family home. You do realize that, right?"
Vanille blushed and hid her face. "Er, yeah. Of course I did. Duh."
Fang tried to hide her grin and busied herself getting on with dinner. Can of soup. Pot on the stove. Water from the tap. Slices of bread under the grill. The first thing to take care of was getting the kid over her shock and past the worst of it.
"I hope you like soup. I'm a terrible cook and I insist on buying my own food. I don't take charity."
"Soup's good!" Vanille stopped poking around Fang's things and came over to get in the way in the kitchen. "Can I help?"
"Er, no. Just sit down. You're probably going through more than you realize right now. Take it easy." There was some kind of emotional explosion coming, or tears. Fang knew it. Fang was one of the toughest people in Oerba and she'd cried.
Vanille nodded emphatically. "Sure thing!" she said brightly, and settled down in a chair with a smile.
It was very unnerving.
Fang had very basic crockery and cutlery. Only really enough for one person. She served their soup into two mugs and put their toast onto her one plate and into her one bowl. She set the plate and mug down before Vanille and gave her the spoon.
"Sorry, I'm not used to guests," Fang apologized. "That's the one thing I toe the line on. It's mostly because with all the fuss that's made over us, it's important to keep a private space."
"Yeah, I hear you. Can you imagine it? What if you were... you know? And someone just showed up!"
Fang raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure I wasn't?"
Vanille spat some of her soup back out again, spluttering. It was totally worth the mess, just to see the look on her face. After that, dinner was eaten quickly and quietly.
Fang's home had only been furnished for one. There was space for two bunks, but she only owned one mattress. Fang sighed and gestured magnanimously. "There you go. Don't let it be said I'm not polite to my guests."
Vanille paused, mouth open in surprise.
"What, did you think I was going to make you sleep on the floor on your first night?"
Vanille shook her head and laughed. "No, silly. I mean, I was just confused. Don't I live here now?"
There were definitely some ground rules Fang had to establish. "Well, you can stay while you look for something else, but, well… Look. I'm very used to living alone. I know it's hard at first, and heaven knows I wish I'd had someone to guide me, but at some point it'll be good for you to stand on your own two feet."
Vanille looked pointedly down at her shoes, as if to be clever.
"None of that," Fang warned her. "Now, bed. I'm going to see if I've got anything short enough to fit you. I've got a phone in the corner. I'm guessing you haven't told your parents yet?"
Vanille blinked. "No, I thought... someone would..."
"Yeah," Fang said with feeling. "You'll get used to that. There ain't no-one but us right now. Even when you get signed up onto the support systems, it's pretty much self-serve."
"But you'll be with me?" Vanille asked in a very tiny voice.
Fang clasped what she hoped was a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Go call your parents."
She gave Vanille as much privacy as she could and stared with deliberate focus on a drawer full of her old clothing. A t-shirt that was too tight, too short, that might fit her? It went into the pile of options. There were only two or three things, but Vanille only needed one, right? Just something comfortable to sleep in.
"... It's not like I had a choice, Mum!" Vanille was shouting, and whining, and it was getting very hard to ignore her.
"No, I don't think I'll... What? Look, it's not my fault we're in the middle of a war!"
Fang had to interrupt. "Wait, we're at war?"
Vanille stared up at her, aghast. "It was declared this morning."
Fang shrugged. "I don't get out much, I told you. Today was my day off."
"Honestly, we are getting a radio, or a TV, or something here."
Vanille had lowered the phone to her chest and the muffled sounds of her mother's voice came angrily out from the earpiece.
"You're not staying," Fang said. She took the handset away from Vanille and spoke into it. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Ma'am, but we've all gone through a lot today. Vanille will call you back in the morning."
Vanille smiled tightly, rasied her hands helplessly. "She's a very nervous person," she explained.
"I can hear that for myself. And don't you make those eyes at me. Pick a shirt. Get changed. Sleep. Get out of my hair, that's all I ask."
Vanille pouted, but she went about getting ready for bed. At one point, she eyed Fang's sink nervously. "Toothbrush?"
"There's a pack under the counter, beside the soap," Fang replied.
The LEDs in the ceiling bathed the room in a cool glow that flickered when the power use in the local grid fluctuated. Fang reminded herself to look into a better storage battery for the solar panels on the roof. When Vanille was finally settled in the bed, and Fang had made her own makeshift bed on the floor, Fang switched the lights off.
She got about four minutes of peace and quiet, in which she remembered she'd been planning on pairing her socks that night, before Vanille spoke up.
"Is it hard? Being a l'Cie?"
"I don't know. Is it hard being a human?"
"It was for me," Vanille sighed. "It really, really was for me."
Fang was not going to get drawn into a conversation. She was going to go to sleep. Really. "How so?"
"Oh, you know. This and that. I have a lot of brothers and sisters. Some of them got sick from the stuff that fell on the crops that year. It's really cramped at home."
Fang whistled. "Sounds rough. I always planned on getting out of here, away from the pollution and Cocoon's shadow. As soon as my obligation to Anima was fulfilled on my birthday, I was going to start applying for universities. Jobs. Anywhere farther away."
"You're an only child, aren't you?" Vanille asked.
"I'm the only one that lived," Fang replied. "My parents were farmers."
Vanille didn't know what to say other than "Oh," in a very sad voice. She was silent for a while, but she kept moving about, making rustling noises.
"It's not too bad," Fang said, worried she'd upset her. And then, she remembered their earlier conversation. "Hey, you're not...?"
"No! No, nonoononnonono!" Vanille squealed. "Why would you think that? You creep! I'm just... it's weird. I'm not used to this room. It sounds weird. The mattress feels weird."
"I spent my first night stalking around the village. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I just kept coming across all these bright cosy lights and hearing the sounds of people going about their normal lives inside. I wanted to break their doors down and tell them just how unfair it was."
"There weren't any l'Cie before you," Vanille said, as if she was only just realizing it.
"You're a fast one, aren't you? A real ideas girl."
"Hey! I bet you didn't think much about being a l'Cie before it happened to you!"
"I really didn't," Fang answered honestly. All the memories were coming back, all the feelings. It burned in the back of her eyes and in her heart. The air felt heavier in her lungs. She ached. "I'm sorry."
Vanille sniffled, and Fang thought, ah, at last. Here are the tears. It made her feel better that it wasn't just her.
"It's all right," Vanille said, voice wobbling. "Because there are two of us now. We've been chosen to do this thing together, and whether I'm on my own or with you, there will always be two of us out there. Both of us belonging to the same fate."
She was right. Fang swallowed around the tightness in her throat. When she felt Vanilla's fingers brush against her shoulder, she didn't think twice before holding her hand out in return.
When Fang woke up in the morning, her neck was stiff from lying on the floor and she had lost all feeling in her left leg. When she tried moving it, she found herself encumbered by one clingy and drooling eighteen year old girl. Red hair. Sleeping in one of Fang's shirts. Right. Vanille. The kid with the big, sad family and the anxious mother. Fang shoved at Vanille's shoulder and Vanille sighed in her sleep, then dug her fingernails in.
"Ow! Do you mind?" Fang cried out.
"Nope!" Vanille said, sounding very alert and very capable of letting go. She snuggled closer.
"Vanille. It's time to get up. Not to mention, you're an unwelcome guest."
That woke her up. She blinked her eyes open and stared up at Fang. "Huh? What about all that togetherness stuff last night?"
"You're welcome in my house, not on my shoulder," Fang said. She pushed, gently this time, and Vanille let go.
As the sun rose over the fields, it caught on all the tiny little specks of dust that fell from Cocoon. In the distance, airships patrolled the skies above the more densely populated areas of Gran Pulse. Fang liked to keep her curtains shut, and assumed Vanille would have been the same (given her family history), but instead she pushed them back and basked in the new day.
"Don't open it," Fang warned her.
"I'm not an idiot." Vanille waved a hand dismissively. "I just like to value what we have. It might not be around for much longer."
Fang rolled her eyes. "Not that nonsense about bombs again. I get enough of it from everyone else in town."
"There isn't going to be a bomb, because of what we're going to do," Vanille whispered.
"What was that?" Fang pretended she hadn't heard.
"Nothing," Vanille replied.
The temple was bustling, what with all of the excitement surrounding a new l'Cie. All of the faithful were there. The priests and priestess were wearing their full-on ceremonial gear and everyone was clutching some kind of devotional knickknack. There were also little bug-like fly cameras and reporters. Big news! War declared! A fal'Cie creates a new l'Cie! Cocoon trembles!
Fang wondered if there was going to be a wave of new l'Cie in the more densely populated cities. The fal'Cie of Gran Pulse had opposed the interventionist attitudes of the Cocoon fal'Cie. Gran Pulse fal'Cie carried a sense of overall stewardship for the land, and it made the planet wonderful not just for humans, but for all life. Was war pushing them away from it all? How much of human prayers and voices did a fal'Cie hear, anyway? What was their focus about?
Fang was glad of her height and the precedents she'd set for herself, in relation to the media. She wrapped an arm around Vanille's shoulders and shoved her way past people. In one moment of perverse bloody-minded anger, she lashed out and broke a camera. Caught it in her fist and squeezed until it broke into little bits of plastic and wire.
"Have some decency! You don't pull this kind of thing on new soldiers, do you? No. Because that would be rude."
Her voice carried well in the stone halls. In that second of silence bought by shame, Fang yanked Vanille along behind her and slipped into a corridor. Obligingly, the doors locked shut behind them.
"Thank you," Fang sighed.
"I didn't pick you for the pious sort," Vanille said nervously.
"I'm not. I just don't refute the truth when it's shoved in my face. The fal'Cie made me what I am today and grateful or not, I can be polite when they play nicely."
Vanille eyed the doors. "So, Anima..."
"What d'you think? They just do that on their own?"
"Well…" Vanille shook her head and ran the few steps that separated them. She stood right behind Fang. "What do we do now? All those people out there..."
"Doesn't matter." Fang cut her arm across the air with finality. "We're here to pay lip service to them, which we've already done. They couldn't behave, so they missed their chance. They'll have others. I'm sure they got a few close-ups of you looking sweet and bewildered."
"Hey!"
"What? You are." Fang walked on, deeper and deeper in. They had to get their work done for the day or it'd be a headache waiting for them the day after.
"You think I'm sweet?" Vanille giggled and followed along. Fang just smiled.
The temple was maintained by the priest and priestess, just two people in their thirties who basically spent most of their time fundraising, cleaning, and scheduling teenagers' appointments with Anima when they came of age. In large cities, there was more money, more work, more interest. In Oerba, there just wasn't the population to support very much. Most of their money came from bigger temples and they hadn't really known what to do with Fang when she became a l'Cie. Fang hoped against hope that they'd got their act together since then.
When they finally reached the priest and priestess, the elder pair smiled and greeted them. The priest appeared to have a folder of paperwork. Good.
"Oerba Dia Vanille," the priestess said and Vanille stepped forward to meet them.
Fang nodded decisively to herself. It would be better this time. Less confusing. Vanille would be well taken care of. Vanille'd go with them into a separate antechamber and work through some twisted induction to the petty back-end of the temple's financial system.
"And Oerba Yun Fang," the priestess continued. "We shall have to attend to urgent matters before we can deal with everything else. We have received a message from the capital, regarding our reaction to the military's directives."
"Directives?" Fang did not like the sound of that.
"Yes, ah, conscription laws. Resource management laws, rationing and the requisition of buildings. Many fal'Cie are in strategic places, as they are the centers of biodiversity and often water sources of Gran Pulse. Oerba has the added value of being close to Cocoon."
The worst was coming, Fang knew it. Vanille looked pale, shocked. Hadn't she expected it from the humans of Gran Pulse? Fear turned people mad; it's why humans had followed Lindzei to Cocoon in the first damn place, centuries ago.
"Last night, the Secretary General tried to claim l'Cie as restricted resources for the military. It didn't pass and the heads of the temples in the capital cities all made their objections clear. A compromise was reached. All l'Cie are to submit to a program of combat training. In exchange..."
"We get to follow our focuses. I suppose that they reminded the good Secretary that if a l'Cie ignores or avoids their focus, or faces extreme emotional stress, their brands advance and render them useless. There's no strategy that is helped by a spontaneous Cie'th!" Fang kicked her heel against the stone wall. Of all the...damn it!
The priest smiled tightly. "Quite. So, I'm afraid before we can even think about the niceties for you, Oerba Dia Vanille, we shall have to work through what this means for Anima and Oerba."
It took hours. It was dark by the time they got out. Fang led Vanille back to her home, up the stairs, and slammed the door behind them. After she kicked her boots off, she poured two glasses of water and offered one to Vanille.
Fang was glad to be at home, finally. She leaned back, let herself slide down against the wall, and rolled her neck to stretch it out a little.
"Is it always like that?"
"Hmn? Oh, the temple. Maybe. People are getting more nervous and I made the mistake of telling others about that dream I had, my focus. Now the war's heating up and they want to analyze it to pieces to figure it out. My brand hasn't done anything since I got it, though."
"Hmn?" Vanille slumped down beside Fang and let her head fall on her shoulder.
"Hey. You're getting awfully familiar, for someone who's just met me."
"We went to school together, dummy."
"Still. You'd better watch out, you might give me the wrong idea."
Vanille muttered something under her breath.
Fang got a sinking sensation in her gut. A kind of delighted, terrified freefall. "What was that?"
"I..." Vanille bit her lip. "I had the same dream as you," Vanille said, miserably.
She would have known, too. A big fuss had been made about Fang's dream. Essays and research, interviews and analysis. She had described it a thousand times and over again; it was common knowledge in their village, if not the world.
Fang felt a thousand times more rotten than the lowest bastard that there ever was. There was Vanille: vulnerable, sweet and barely eighteen. She hadn't been making a pass; she was barely keeping up with the changing world around her.
"Wait, you what? When were you planning on telling me this?"
"Well, this is my second night here. It didn't seem right to just barge in and lay it all on you."
Fang sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Do you mean a dream in which you become a monster?"
"We become the monster. Together. And once we have, we destroy Cocoon." Her voice was tight and fierce. Her hands clenched into tight fists. "I don't want to, but people are dying. Not just my family, everybody. If nothing changes, the whole world will be..."
"You don't have to tell me, kiddo." Fang ran her fingers over the top of Vanille's head and pulled the blanket over them. "And on top of that, neither one of us wants to turn into a Cie'th. We'll do it. God help me, but we'll figure it out together."
Vanille twisted around and looked up at her, eyes soft in the evening light and arms pliant. Her lips parted gently.
Now Fang was oblivious to some things, but nothing that obvious. She had, unfortunately, guessed right the first time. "You're eighteen," she protested in a strangled desperation.
Which obviously meant something very different to eighteen-year-olds than it did to twenty-year-olds. "I know," Vanille said with a secret smile. She reached up to touch Fang's face.
"No, I mean. And I'm flattered, I am." Fang caught Vanille's hands and held them down, safe, between them. Pulled away enough that there was air and space between their bodies. "But you're so young and you're in such a strange place right now. It would be taking advantage."
Vanille's mouth hung open and her eyebrows furrowed. Fang realized, a moment too late, that she had just broken someone's heart.
"It's okay," Vanille said. "I understand."
"No, no no. You don't. At all." Fang rubbed a hand over her face. "You are, from what I've seen of you, a lovely young woman. But there's a lot riding on anything that's between us and you've had your normal support network, your family, all stripped away from you under the laws for l'Cie. Not now. That's what I'm saying."
"Well, poo," Vanille said. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't have picked you as the conservative type."
Fang sighed, a long "ugh" of a breath out. She twisted her head to the side and stared at the wall. Would siblings be this completely and utterly irritating? They would probably have been worse. Younger, more stupid. Fang was almost - but not quite - grateful for radiation, birth defects and miscarriages. The second she thought about it, her soul winced away and her mind skittered past it. Spending time with Vanille was opening up a lot of the sore and aching parts of her memories. Like the look on her mother's face when she had learned the truth about the dust that fell from Cocoon.
"Are you always this... this?"
Vanille shrugged and muttered "I dunno". She got up, left Fang sitting there, and shut herself in the bathroom.
"Damn it." Fang smacked her fist on the floor. She was supposed to be the responsible one. She'd taken on this duty of care and yet her head was all over the place. She had no right to be leading anybody else down the same path she was following.
Dinner was a can of spaghetti and two pieces of toast. Vanille got the bowl while Fang ate hers from the saucepan.
"We have got to go shopping," Vanille said. She was still frowning, but she had relaxed enough to sit comfortably and meet Fang's eyes.
"Yeah. As soon as you register for your benefits, and we get some money. Because let me tell you, these imports don't come free."
Vanille blinked and took a proper look at the can on the bench. "You don't eat local food," she said.
"I buy it to support the people here," Fang shrugged. "But I promised my father, while he was still alive, that I wouldn't eat anything that came from this tainted soil."
Vanille slumped and looked down at her hands. "Have you read the old stories? About Ragnarok?"
Well, that was a bit of a non-sequitur. "Huh? Yeah, I guess. Humans make mistakes, the gods make mistakes, and the world ends. Everything becomes a burning ocean. The planet is cleansed and then everything is reborn once more."
"It's to do with the corruption of the gods and their downfall. Evil. Something so huge and unbalanced that you must destroy the small goodness that is left, in order to defeat it."
"Right," Fang stared down at her food.
"It's also the beast in our dream. Ragnarok. It will destroy Cocoon, allow us to re-make Gran Pulse and our whole world."
"You," Fang said, "have a very active imagination."
In the safety of the darkness, Vanille just let it all out. She shifted around in bed and made frustrated noises, then rolled onto her side and leaned down over Fang on the floor.
"So, you do find me attractive, but you're just weirded out by the age thing?"
"As if," Fang scoffed. "If the government thinks you're an adult, who am I to argue?"
Vanille threw a pillow at Fang's face. Fang took this victory for what it was and shoved it beneath her head.
"Heeeeeey!"
"Losers weepers," Fang grinned.
"Anyway. Okay. So." Vanille flopped out of the bed and pillowed her head on Fang's stomach. "So. If I'm old enough and I'm attractive to you, what gives?"
Fang shoved at her. "Get off me. What gives," she pulled herself out and dragged her blanket and pillows farther away from the bed, "is that you're in a very vulnerable position, you're..."
"Oh, my word! Goodness me!" Vanille was being facetious, Fang could hear it in her voice, even if she couldn't see her face well in the darkness.
"What?"
"You want it to mean something. I mean, like, mean mean something. You won't take advantage of me because you're too cool and too sensitive and too noble."
"Shut it," Fang snapped.
Vanille giggled. "But you are! That's..." she was a little breathless. "Oh, no! That's even cuter than before!"
"I'm... cute?" Fang felt her gorge rise a little. Sickening thought.
"You're cute." Vanille settled the matter by crawling over her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But it's okay. I'll wait until you pull your head out of your bum and start seeing me as your equal. I'm going to be the person who figures out our focus!"
Fang opened the curtains before Vanille woke up and put the kettle on. Ragnarok, huh? So Vanille thought that they were going to bring an end to Cocoon and burn all of the poison out of the soil of Gran Pulse, Oerba included. It was a nice fantasy, the kind that a girl who had dead and dying younger siblings made up in her head before she drifted off to sleep. Fang had daydreams of her own like that, of all the families and children who would survive into the future. Her parents still alive. Their farm, flourishing.
She looked out the window at the deserted streets. People didn't stay out, unless they had to. Fang had wondered, more than once, whether supporting the remaining local farms was some kind of charity, or whether she was contributing to their downfall. Killing them.
Vanille stretched and yawned, before bouncing out of bed. The girl had an obnoxious amount of energy in the mornings. She sat down at the table and swung her legs under her chair.
"So, I've decided, I really will wait for you. You're worth it," Vanille declared.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, and you'd better not tell your mother, because she will think you're too young, but thanks."
Vanille smiled as she bit into her toast, humming a little tune to herself. She drank some tea to wash it down. "Today I'll go register with the government. I'll get everything sorted. But, you know? I'll have to find somewhere to live. And I can't go to my family home. You mentioned you're short on cash and..."
"All right, all right!" Fang waved a hand and rolled her eyes. "I'll keep you, you brat."
Vanille ducked her head, completely failed to hide her smile, and nodded.
Oerba was, you could say, like more or less any other village in Gran Pulse, with one exception. In the mornings, sunlight warmed the sides of the buildings and there was a glimmer of hope for the future.