A/N: Hi everyone, I'm back with a new fic! If you have read 'Starts with a T', you'll find this a lot more serious. It's going to be a three-part story, and here's part one! It's set in a slight AU, but the chapter will speak for itself, I hope. Please enjoy! :Meresta
Summery: The sound of poverty moves slow, but leaves scars as she goes.
Rating: PG-13+
Warnings: Suggesting a malexmale pairing, language, blood, indirect violence, suggesting use of alcohol.
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII, or Final Fantasy XII; Revenant Wings.
Sound of poverty.
-Nothing sounds more fragile than a desperate boy displaying hate-
They were young, yet old enough to know the streets below. They knew them better than the rats inhabiting the sewers, stealing bread from your very hands. Maybe that is why no one could look at them as human beings.
The war, it had changed many things. The Royal family of Dalmasca had been killed to the very last descendant, leaving the throne open for seekers of power. It was Vayne Carudas Solidor, who got there first. In the end, he had commanded the army that brought destruction upon the small, now no longer kingdom, and was presently ruling it as her rightful Emperor.
The people of Rabanastre were split in two halves; the ones who supported Lord Vayne, and the ones who opposed to him. With but little help from the Emperor himself, this tension was fought out in a bloody civil war, rendering the once tall and proud city to a mere pile of distasteful ruins.
But, Vayne Carudas didn't feel much for ruling a city existing of dirt, thus action was taken. Rabanastre was rebuild from scratch, in an attempt to keep the pride she once had alive. With few Archadian influences, Rabanastre became a modern yet historic work of art, the most beautiful lie ever created. Unfortunately, not all parts of this replica city were that lucky.
Lowtown, the underground counterpart of the uptown world, where orphans were safe and traders made their living. A vibrant place, where status did not matter. Humid air and degrading walls didn't take the charm from the subculture living underneath the surface. A part of the city many humes above feared to accept, yet home for everyone who had cast this fear aside.
However, when Vayne's army first attacked Rabanastre, many adults were sent to battle. None of them survived. This instantly made an entire generation of children orphans, and with no home to return to, they sought shelter below. They were taken in and taken care of, aided in their struggle of living their lives each day, by protecting them from the brutal violence taking place above.
A half destroyed city was useless to Vayne, so the civil war took care of the rest. With that, Lowtown was made to collapse under the heavy weight of fallen buildings. Getting up had become impossible because of stone and rubble blocking the way. The dust had killed most elderly inhabitants of the former Lowtown, where the panic arguments had taken care of the adults. What was left, were the children, paralyzed and traumatized, yet forced to live on, for each other.
There was a boy, he was the oldest. Unspoken leader of the child orphans the war has left Dalmasca with. Up above, they celebrated life. Underground, all was still dead. Once the city had been rebuild, no attention was paid to the ruins of Lowtown. It had become an outcast, a part forgotten, erased from the books. No one had the courage to go down those stairs anymore, and the children knew better than going up. The parts directly above of this new Lowtown were known for being the homes of criminals and beggars, and if the thieves wouldn't steal your Gil, the children would.
They were young, so very young, yet old enough to live. Living this life, they had the luck to keep hold of what no one could take from them. Their spirits.
"Kytes, shouldn't it be around time you go up?" A blond, teen girl asked her friend as she squeezed water out of a cloth. The fluid had gone black with dirt and left a sand-trail on her hands. His eyes followed it until the drops hit the ground. He nodded.
"Yeah. Tell Vaan I'm up okay."
It wasn't even a question anymore. She eyed him, confirming, and got back to cleaning the wound on her side. He frowned at her.
"Penelo, don't use dirty water to clean that. It'll get infected."
"We need the clean water to drink."
"One day your luck will turn against you, you know."
"Just get up there and get us some food. You worry too much."
A nod was exchanged and Kytes made his way through inconveniently fallen boulders, jumping and crawling almost delicately towards the light indicating an exit.
He carefully stuck his head out and glanced around. When he was certain all was clear, he emerged completely and took a deep breath of fresh air. Taking another look around, it was time for him to find food. Or rather, people carrying food, so he could steal it from them. Just another sewer rat.
Of all the orphans living in former Lowtown, Kytes was the only one who came up. The others depended on him to get food, clothes, and anything else he could get his hands on. There were others who would be able to go up, but it was either too dangerous for them, or they refused. They had been forced to live underground for such a long time, daylight burned on their skin. Some of the young ones didn't even know what the sky looked like, where the oldest chose to forget.
Large hazel eyes scanned the area for future victims of robbery, but it was quiet. The young boy took a quick glance at the sky to find that it was early in the morning, meaning most people wouldn't be awake yet. He cursed inwardly; living underground made it hard to estimate the time of day.
When a tall man with short, brown hair appeared on these forgotten parts of Rabanastre, something sparkled inside Kyte's eyes. He was wearing expensive clothes, and his jewelry told he was of class. The man was staring around him, looking quite lost, as if he had never been to this place before. Perfect.
The young rat took a moment to ready himself before he ran at the stranger in full force, almost knocking him off balance as the two of them collided. Quick fingers and an apologetic smile as Kytes ran on, jumping back down the worn down stairs leading to his home. Unfortunately, the stranger wasn't as slow as he first appeared to be, and he gave chase, following him underground with ease.
When Kytes noticed he had come down, he began to panic. No one had ever followed him down here, no matter what he took from them, he wasn't used to running here. He changed his direction and when a wheat blond, young man came in sight, he sighed in relief. The man, or boy, was confused until he noticed the stranger coming up behind his friend.
"Sorry!" Kytes yelled, before crawling through one of the smaller passages. The young man watched as the stranger tried to follow, but the way was too narrow. Their eyes met.
"Leave him alone." The wheat blond spoke, taking in the image of the man before him. Good clothes, healthy complexion, jewelry.
"I would expect you to protect your little friend, but I am afraid I can not leave without my belongings."
The boy raised an eyebrow at the accent; Archadian. Did Archadian people still come to Dalmasca?
"You won't get them back." The boy stated, quite simply.
The stranger chose that moment to take a better look at the young man before him. Wheat blond hair, flowing alongside his jaw line and dark, grey eyes that lost their shine. His skin was dirty, covered in countless of small wounds and scars. For some reason, the stranger felt his anger subside. It was just money, after all. The boy crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"It's your own fault, it's stupid to come here."
"Ah," The man started, not really intimidated. "but I happen to be a tourist, you see."
The wheat blond narrowed his eyes.
"Get out." The boy shot him an hateful look. The stranger snorted, and turned to make his leave.
"Tell your friend to be more careful."
"Get out!"
"Alright, alright, I'm going. Whom did I have the pleasure talking to?"
"None of your business!"
The stranger let out a sigh of defeat. So full of energy, this child.
"Good day."
The boy stood still for a moment, his eyes following the man as he moved swiftly through the ruins of Lowtown. He had never seen anyone able to move like that down here, except for Kytes. For some reason, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Once he was out of sight, a young, slightly scared voice called out to him.
"..Vaan? ..Is he gone?"
Vaan shook his head and sighed, determined on forgetting this all had happened.
"Yeah, you can come out now."
Kytes emerged from behind a narrow gap, his eyes were teary and he was shaking a little. It surprised the wheat blond, he had never seen his friend like this.
"What's wrong? Did he hurt you?!" More hatred.
The young boy shook his head violently.
"No.." Kytes clung to Vaan, sobbing. "I'm so sorry for dragging you into this! I should have been more careful!"
"There there.." The eldest of orphans patted the little thief gently on his head in attempt to comfort him. "It's ok.."
"Vaan? What's happening Vaan? Where is everybody?"
"Kytes.."
"Where is mommy? I want mommy!"
"..Kytes I'm.." Tears hit the ground before him. "..so sorry.."
"No! Nh.. No.." He dropped to his knees, falling straight in Vaan's arms. "No.."
"No..it's not.." Hazel eyes cried, piercing through Vaan's heart with each tear they spilled. Kytes rubbed his eyes and calmed his breathing.
"I wish I wouldn't have to steal.." He said, almost in a whisper, as he handed Vaan the stranger's pouch. The oldest checked the content and was satisfied; they should be able to live off of this for at least a week. He put the money away and eyed his friend with sympathy.
"We're all the same, but we can't give up right? Stay strong." He showed a supportive smile.
"We're counting on you Kytes."
A few days passed, and life went on as usual. They were half way the dry season now, which normally meant more people above, and that, of course, meant more food. The encounter Kytes had some time ago had been forgotten by the young thief, and though the story had been shared with the others, no word has been spoken about it since. There was one, however, who hasn't been able to forget.
"Vaan! Vaan are you in here?!" A strong, female voice rang through the narrow corridors of Lowtown. Soon, a boy slightly older responded.
"Yeah, what's wrong?"
The girl made a face and walked over to him. When he noticed her limp, a worried expression overtook his features. The girl dropped down to the floor and he kneeled down beside her.
"They've-" She tried to speak but the wheat blond interrupted her.
"Filo! Get us some clean water please!" He yelled, getting a barely audible reply from one of the other rooms.
"Geesh Vaan, you're just like Kytes. Pit water will do just fine, it's just a scratch."
"Penelo, one of these days your wounds will infect.."
"They won't, trust me. They never have, never will, now please stop talking about me and listen, they've thrown down junk again."
"What?!"
"I was near the entrance for some fresh air when they tossed it. I think it were vases or something.."
The two oldest orphans eyed each other for a moment, desperately wanting to lie. Wanting to say meaningless sentences like 'It must have been an accident', or 'Maybe they were trying to help?'. For a second, Vaan felt like crying his heart and soul out. Reality was not kind enough to let him.
The first time it happened, the children had honestly assumed it to be an accident. The sharp fragments of different vases were spread all over the ground near the entrance and the smell of herbs was strong. 'A merchant must have dropped it', they'd say, laughing carelessly in feigned belief.
The second time it happened, Penelo was hurt badly, causing the large wound on her side that hasn't healed yet, not even after half a year had passed. Vaan had been with her, only a few meters behind. From his angle, he could see the old Hume aim. While the girl bit her lip to keep from crying, her friend shouted the most obscene of curses until the man disappeared from the entrance.
This hit had hurt more than just the physical pain.
Not all inhabitants of Dalmasca's rebuilt capital knew of Lowtown. Most of them never knew it existed, where others believed that it was destroyed completely during the war, leaving no survivors. A select few think it's haunted, where the remaining people were bandits, thieves and illegal merchants, making their living on the grounds above the ruins. They knew.
The orphans of the underground were unwanted. After the third, fourth and fifth time crates or vases had been thrown down, no one was allowed to come near the entrance anymore. Whenever Kytes was going up, he had to check from a distance for at least five minutes before climbing to daylight.
The fear to be killed in the blink of an eye, did more damage than any vase could ever do.
"I'd better go clean it up before Kytes gets hurt." Penelo nodded.
A young girl with short, raven hair came running towards them, holding a small bowl of water.
"Filo! Don't run when you're holding clean water! What if you spill?"
"I'm sorry Vaan.. what are you doing?"
"I'm off to the entrance for a while. Don't come near, ok."
The girl nodded, and sat down beside Penelo to clean her wound.
"Filo." Penelo eyed her seriously. The brunette looked up at her. "Drink that water. We'll clean this with water from the pit."
"But Vaan said-"
"Vaan is not the one hurt, is he? Now please just drink it, you look horrible."
Filo averted her eyes, but nodded. She brought the bowl to her lips and took a few, careful sips. Afterwards, she offered the bowl to her elder.
"..You look horrible too."
At the entrance, Vaan's five minutes were up. He approached the collapsed staircase and took a look at the damage. There must be at least five vases shattered down there, a crate too. It must be the end of the week, they usually throw down more around that time.
With a sigh and a spirit of well-practiced denial, he cautiously sat down and started to collect the sharp fragments, placing them in one of the large chunks of the broken crate. This would take a while, but he had time. As long as he finished before dark came, it would be fine.
Meanwhile, a man above found himself returning to the place he once got lost, in search of a certain wheat blond boy. The rich-looking stranger had tried his hardest, but he was not able to erase his encounter with the young orphan from his memory. The boy had piqued his interest in more ways than he could explain and he wanted to know more. Why did he live underground? How long has it been like that? Who was he?
A feeling of relief surged through him when he recognized the small hole in the ground, signs of a destroyed staircase showing in traces of steps. The stranger took a moment to consider jumping down, when his eye caught glimpses of wheat blond hair. The man kneeled, changing his angle to take a better look and indeed, it was the same boy. He was..picking up shards of..vases? It looked as if they were sharp. How did those get there?
Suddenly, Vaan noticed a shadow in the small stream of light the entrance offered. He quickly looked up, quite shocked, a little frightened too. Did they come to throw down more? When he recognized the person standing above, his fear disappeared completely. Instead, a huge annoyance welled up inside of him. Their eyes met.
"You.." Vaan said, sending several death glares in the stranger's direction.
"It's Balthier." He replied, smiling gently. He took a moment to calculate the depth, before climbing down in a few swift movements. Again, the wheat blond was amazed, but he did a good job in hiding it. Balthier looked around and frowned.
"Need a hand?"
"I don't need your help."
Regardless, Balthier sat down on the opposite side of Vaan and started to collect the shards. The wheat blond narrowed his eyes at him. The brunette grabbed one of the shard and held it in front of him, observing.
"How did such vases end up to be lying shattered down here?" He asked.
Vaan felt anger rise up through his body and got up to look more intimidating.
"I said I didn't need your help! Get out!"
"I don't respond well to orders." Balthier eyed him, clearly unwilling to leave. "I wouldn't suppose this had been an accident of your own, still, these fragments can be very dangerous."
That is when Vaan snapped.
"Do you want to know how these got here? People throw them at us. Now do your fancy clothes a favor and get the hell out of here!"
Balthier's eyes widened as the boy before him was catching his breath, the shard he was holding slipping from his grip. It wasn't normal to need air after shouting one sentence. The brunette found himself feeling enormous anger towards whatever son of a bitch had thrown this junk down here with the intention to hit someone. Holding hands with that feeling, was the urge to embrace this boy, to keep him safe.
"You..you don't have to live like this." Balthier started. "I coul-"
"Shut up! I don't need your help! I don't even want it!" Again, Vaan seemed to be having trouble breathing. "This is just the way it is and we're fine! Don't come here pretending like you feel sorry for us 'cause we don't need your damned sympathy!"
The brunette couldn't remember what he was going to say, when a female voice interrupted them.
"Vaan! Are you coming?!" It came from afar and the wheat blond turned.
"A minute!" He shouted back.
Vaan faced Balthier again, who looked like he had just been stabbed in the chest.
"Just leave." He said, his voice sounding frighteningly sad.
"But.."
"LEAVE!"
Balthier had heard the tears in his voice. He had seen the hand reaching for his throat in attempt to get more air. He had noticed the bleeding scratches on the boy's hands. Yet all he could do, was respect him and leave, so he did. It pained him deeply, but at least he wasn't going home empty-handed. The brunette hopped up the first few steps going back up, turning once to say:
"Goodbye, Vaan."
He received nothing but a hateful glare in return, but still a smile appeared around his lips.
He had no idea when. He had no idea how. He had no idea why. But this boy had triggered a strong, determined feeling of affection within Balthier's heart. Something not just curiosity, but care.
"You seem troubled." A tall, black clad Viera spoke. She took place next to her partner and handed him a glass of wine. Balthier groaned in frustration, gratefully accepting the much needed drink.
"It's Vaan." He said, taking every opportunity to speak his name out loud. The Viera frowned.
"Vaan? You mean the orphan?"
"Yes."
"What has made him trouble you?"
"Oh, no no no, he hasn't troubled me. In fact, I am pretty sure I was the one troubling him.."
"Then what.."
"I haven't got the slightest idea. I.. want to help him, I suppose."
His partner smiled the gentlest of smiles; this was why she agreed to become his colleague.
"Then do so. We are sky pirates, nothing should hold us back."
The man smirked.
"You got a point there Fran. Would you be a treasure and hand me that bottle?"
The Viera raised an eyebrow, but obliged anyway.
"If fate demands it, you shall meet again. Do not let it worry you."
The pirate took another large gulp of wine and placed the glass back on the table.
"Believe me, I am trying."
"Vaan? Is something wrong?"
Penelo's voice pulled the wheat blond back into the real world and he gave her a dazed look.
"What? Why?"
"You spaced out."
"Everyone spaces ou-"
"For the fifth time in a row."
The two exchanged looks, of demand and denial, until a sigh left Vaan's lips.
"I.. there was a man at the entrance earlier. His name is Balthier. He was the one chasing Kytes."
Penelo's eyes widened in shock.
"Did he want his money back? Did he hurt you?"
The wheat blond shook his head quickly.
"No, he didn't. He..offered to help. Said I didn't have to live like this.. Stuff like that."
"Oh Vaan.."
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.
"You won't leave us, would you?" She asked, a little insecure. He patted her softly.
"Of course not. I won't do what he did. I promise."
Relief surged through the girl's body as she released him from her embrace.
"I'm glad."
"Reks? Why are you up so early? Are you going somewhere?"
A young man with short, wheat blond hair halted his steps, feeling caught. He turned to face his younger brother, and tried to smile.
"I am."
"When will you be back?"
Reks avoided his brother's eyes, looking at the ground instead.
"I won't be back."
"What?!" Vaan was confused, and suddenly very, very scared.
"I'm so sorry to leave you behind Vaan, but..-"
"Reks! Are you coming? We have to hurry!" A strong, male voice rang through the corridors of Lowtown's ruins.
"I'll be right there Basch!" He turned back to his brother.
"I have to go. Don't give up."
"But! You can't! Please Reks, please don't go! Don't leave me here! Don't leave us!"
Reks climbed his way up the steps, a hand reaching out to help him halfway. Before he disappeared completely, he eyed Vaan one more time.
"Goodbye, Vaan."
Two months before Reks left the children of Lowtown, he had met a male by the name of Basch. He was one of the higher servants of the House of Dalmasca, and money was never a problem. For some reason, the two of them got along very well, and it didn't take long for Basch to offer his support to the large family Reks was raising. He supported them with money, food and clothes, dropping by for a visit every now and then.
Time passed, and things were starting to lighten up for the orphans of the underground. Basch became the father they all had lost, where Reks nursed the children as if they were his own. They made place for faith. For hope. Love.
In the end, this love turned out to be a traitor. Basch took Reks away, leaving at the break of dawn, gone long before they could have heard the children cry.
The sound was horrible, echoing through the ruins like it was a bottomless pit.
They never wanted to hear it again.
Reviews are very much appreciated!