A/N: Totally random. This came from an attempt to write a Kurenai one-shot, but, well, it blossomed (please don't shoot me) into this. It's probably due to the influence of MasaeAnela's awesome play through on YouTube.
Some details may be incorrect, due to the fact that I don't know the full extent of Raven's background, and I haven't finished the game yet.
By the way, this site is totally screwing up the whole centering thing. Ignore it.
I do not own Tales of Vesperia, and nor do I own the poem 'In Flanders Fields'.
Enjoy!
Once upon a time, these flowers were white.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
The flowers, however, are now red.
Raven stands in a field of flowers. He is alone, at the back of the group. His comrades have moved on without him.
Estelle is gathering flowers, and appears to be using Rita to store them. Karol has flopped down in the field. The boy's exhausted, resting yet again. Judith has wandered off somewhere, and Yuri, with Repede standing beside him, watches them all like a proud father.
Raven remembers this place. The rest of the group doesn't know that they are standing in one of the most famous battlegrounds of the Great War.
Estelle seems to be confused by the flowers. He can hear her from here-the girl talks rather loudly for someone so reticent-saying that the flowers growing here are usually white. She's putting it down to a mutation, though.
He knows better. The scarlet colour of the blooms surrounding him comes from the blood of soldiers, their steeds, and Entelexeia alike.
Some of the blood came from his friends. Some of the blood even came from him.
This type of occurrence had never been seen in nature before. The plants soaked up the blood in the ground, through their roots, and converted it in into a red pigment that now stains the flower's petals. It had been labelled the Flanders phenomenon.
He looks and the children standing in front of him and hopes that they'll never experience something like this in their lifetimes. Sometimes, once is more than enough.
Review, please! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. ~Gryfo
