A/N: Just so we all know; I'm totally not promising the world's fastest updates. I'm a college student and a lazy bum. Old readers know that already, new ones will become frustrated and find out.
I mentioned in the author's note that I forgot the ending. I wasn't kidding. It was there one day and the next it was gone. Hahaha, I'm lame.
I DO NOT OWN FINAL FANTASY BUT I CAN WISH! The Gypsies are totally mine though.
PROLOGUE: ANGEL TEARS
No Lyrics Available
~ Angel Tears ~ Adrian Von Ziegler ~
Boom. Boom-Boom. Boom. Boom-Boom.
The music was haunting, chilling one to their very bones. Drums were pounded in a slow, steady beat, bamboo flutes a reminisce of wind and tambourines shook, mocking leaves in a tempest. The audience consisted of the nobles of Alexandria, the peasants and the usual low-life scum. The Romani Gypsies were well known for drawing people of all sorts to see dances performed by exotic beauties, fortunes revealed by hideous hags, and items sold by cunning merchants. The performers were tramps and thieves, but they were adored by the life they could bring to a simple dance. It was never the same twice, and the silver-haired Kuja could vouch for this fact.
He was a man who cherished a stunning theatrical performance, always searching ruthlessly for flaws in others as they acted out their parts, and often found what he desired, but the Gypsies never ceased to amaze him, and the Queen Brahne of Alexandria, who was so easily amused by such shows, even had a throne constructed so that she may watch them comfortably when they came to the town's square. As of now, the dancers, who all looked similar with their deliciously tanned skin, and pin-straight hair tied into ponytails, danced slowly around something covered with a red velvet cloth in the center of the circle they formed. He was intrigued, to say the least. Never before had he seen the band of riff-raffs use such a large prop. A woman glided to the cloth, grasping it and yanked it away to reveal it to be a statue of a young woman, forever trapped in dance.
"This one is starting so slowly." Brahne commented dryly, earning a silent glare from Kuja.
As if hearing her words, the statue suddenly exploded into a bright light, earning many screams from the crowd, but near instantly, it was faded. The dancers now groveled at the feet of a young woman, who stood serenely, a red rose bud in a sea of pastel colors. Her skin was pale and the color of creme, her hair wild, untamed, and the color of burnt sienna. Her clothing was similar to the other Gypsies, a red cloth wrapped tightly around her breasts, and billowing red pants, though unlike the others, long strands of cloth hung from her waistband, golden bells at the end of each one, so that every move she made rang true. Her slippers were simple, black, and curled at the toe in her tribe's traditional style, and unlike the other members of her clan, she wore very little jewelery, just plain, golden bangles on her ankles and wrists.
She took a step forward, her hand opening to release a golden powder that was drawn up in a sudden wind, and scattered over every dancer's head. They began to move once more, as if revitalized from a petrifying nightmare, the music suddenly becoming more upbeat, much to Brahne's pleasure, as she began to bounce in her seat. Kuja did his best to ignored the woman, doing so by slinking back, into the gathering crowd, disappearing into the crowd, and using his magic, he appeared once more on a building overlooking the square, settling himself on the edge. By now, the young woman was dancer herself, twirling and dipping with such beauty and grace that most talking in the crowd had silenced.
He felt himself become entranced.
After a few minutes, the music slowed once more, and the other dancers froze in place, but the woman carried on, jumping at an impressive height, twirling twice in the air, her arms stretched out like wings. She landed on the the ground, crumpling into herself as she began to sob, and her sorrowful voice filled the air, singing a painfully melodious song. Her voice was filled with natural vibrato, carrying each note sweetly in her native tongue. None knew what she was saying, but her voice carried a story by itself as the dancers suddenly converged, forming what appeared to be stairs with their hands. Shakily, she stood, moving towards them, and ascended, slowly, her hands reaching for the sky, trying to grasp the sun in her hands, but failed, and Upon reaching the top, she held a note for a breathtaking moment, before she was stone once more, falling into the waiting arms of her fellows.
The crowd was silent for a long minute, the sounds of women and children crying woefully, before the applause roared through the air.
Kuja added his clapping to the mix, but he could feel something stir deep within him as he focused his eyes on the woman, who was once more human, smiling and bowing for the crowd that threw forth Gil. He watched her every move, drinking it all in, a thin smile gracing his lips as magic glowed at his fingertips. A silver rose formed in his hand, and silently, he formulated another spell deep within the aromatic petals, a plan already formulating in his mind as he cast the flower forward, guiding it to her with magic.
He wanted to hear more songs.
He wanted her voice.
He wanted her.
She would be his to command.
She would sing and dance at his whim.
She would wait patiently on him as a pet would.
She would be his pet.
This young dancer would devote her very soul to him.
Kuja could just barely hold back his excited laughter as the rose landed neatly on the crown of her head.