The woman who was the dragoon of Darkness sat emotionless inside one of the sleeping chambers inside of Charle Frahma's palace. As the moonlight streamed through the oval windows, touching lightly on her pale face, all she could think about was how she had failed them. Kanzas, Belzac, Damia, Shirley, Syuviel. But most of all, how she had failed to hold on.
That last moment.
Thier fingers met.
Slipped, but refirmed their grip upon each other.
Slipped again, never to meet another time.
Drug away from each other.
Zieg...
Sleep wouldn't come. Dreams wouldn't bring them back to her, no matter how real they seemed. Lying upon her blood matted hair, Rose's mind swirled with horror at the past fifteen hours.
The bloodshed.
The screams.
People being killed by wingly and virage alike.
The brutality and savageness of it all. It seemed now like it had happened so far away. That any moment, her six comrades would come through the jaded glow of the teleporter to take her out of the madness. But no such comfort came for her. They had successfully taken down Denningrad, Aglis and Zenebatos without worry. But it all began to fall when they'd lost the youngest of company at Mayfil. Damia, the Dragoon of the deep blue seas, had been executed there, died infront of Zieg and Syuviel. Everyone had watched her go, taking a piece of each of them, including the hard hearted Kanzas.
What would become of her now? The cause won, the war over. Would she fall prey to the wind of time?
A bright flash of emerald light snapped her back to attention. With eyes half focused on the teleporter situated diagonally across the purple walled room from her, Rose slowly sat up, her mind barely registering that someone she knew was coming through the machine.
As silver hair and pink fabric became material form on the pad, Charle stepped out into the room, eyes held upon the disheveled girl in the corner pod. Lightly walking, barely making a sound, the wingly crossed the room in mere seconds to where Rose lay, sympathy overflowing from her crimson eyes.
"Rosie dear...how are you feeling?" Charle's voice rang out, shattering the silence, seemingly as loud as the bell tone of a clock tower compared to the quiessence of the room.
'Hah, what a laugh. Feeling. I'm not feeling anything but pain.'
Was this truly what she was feeling, or was her mind toying with her emotions again, as it had a bad habit of doing? No, this truly did hurt, but not in the form of physical pain, though along with her emotional struggle, the pain of many cuts and gashes across her body coursed through her like a river of torment and agony. As her mind taunted her feelings with various questions and puzzles, Charle stood silently, stone centered, gazing upon the one whom she'd taken to calling her own.
"You know dearie, it's not good to dwell on the past..." Charle again broken the almost deadness of the room, her face continuing to melt into further worry for the girl whom had lost so much in so little time.
"Zieg...."
Upon hearing the name of another whom she'd almost adopted as a child, the wingly knelt down beside the lost one, placing an almost ghostly thin hand upon her shoulder lightly.
"Rosie...he's not coming back."
Apparently, the wrong thing to say.
Immediatley, Rose began sobbing, drenching her dressings in a neverending flow of tears. How had things gone so wrong? One moment they were before Emperor Diaz pledging thier undying love. Swearing to be married upon the war's end. Here now at the end of the campaign, nothing changed, except for the loss of one of the pair. And everyone knows it takes two to be married.
"You still need more time to get over this dear. Think on it a little while longer. I'll be back in an hour."
With that, as silently as she had come, Charle vanished from the room through the teleporter, once again leaving Rose to lament over her lost love...
That last moment.
Thier fingers met.
Slipped, but refirmed their grip upon each other.
Slipped again, never to meet another time.
Drug away from each other.
Zieg...
Sleep wouldn't come. Dreams wouldn't bring them back to her, no matter how real they seemed. Lying upon her blood matted hair, Rose's mind swirled with horror at the past fifteen hours.
The bloodshed.
The screams.
People being killed by wingly and virage alike.
The brutality and savageness of it all. It seemed now like it had happened so far away. That any moment, her six comrades would come through the jaded glow of the teleporter to take her out of the madness. But no such comfort came for her. They had successfully taken down Denningrad, Aglis and Zenebatos without worry. But it all began to fall when they'd lost the youngest of company at Mayfil. Damia, the Dragoon of the deep blue seas, had been executed there, died infront of Zieg and Syuviel. Everyone had watched her go, taking a piece of each of them, including the hard hearted Kanzas.
What would become of her now? The cause won, the war over. Would she fall prey to the wind of time?
A bright flash of emerald light snapped her back to attention. With eyes half focused on the teleporter situated diagonally across the purple walled room from her, Rose slowly sat up, her mind barely registering that someone she knew was coming through the machine.
As silver hair and pink fabric became material form on the pad, Charle stepped out into the room, eyes held upon the disheveled girl in the corner pod. Lightly walking, barely making a sound, the wingly crossed the room in mere seconds to where Rose lay, sympathy overflowing from her crimson eyes.
"Rosie dear...how are you feeling?" Charle's voice rang out, shattering the silence, seemingly as loud as the bell tone of a clock tower compared to the quiessence of the room.
'Hah, what a laugh. Feeling. I'm not feeling anything but pain.'
Was this truly what she was feeling, or was her mind toying with her emotions again, as it had a bad habit of doing? No, this truly did hurt, but not in the form of physical pain, though along with her emotional struggle, the pain of many cuts and gashes across her body coursed through her like a river of torment and agony. As her mind taunted her feelings with various questions and puzzles, Charle stood silently, stone centered, gazing upon the one whom she'd taken to calling her own.
"You know dearie, it's not good to dwell on the past..." Charle again broken the almost deadness of the room, her face continuing to melt into further worry for the girl whom had lost so much in so little time.
"Zieg...."
Upon hearing the name of another whom she'd almost adopted as a child, the wingly knelt down beside the lost one, placing an almost ghostly thin hand upon her shoulder lightly.
"Rosie...he's not coming back."
Apparently, the wrong thing to say.
Immediatley, Rose began sobbing, drenching her dressings in a neverending flow of tears. How had things gone so wrong? One moment they were before Emperor Diaz pledging thier undying love. Swearing to be married upon the war's end. Here now at the end of the campaign, nothing changed, except for the loss of one of the pair. And everyone knows it takes two to be married.
"You still need more time to get over this dear. Think on it a little while longer. I'll be back in an hour."
With that, as silently as she had come, Charle vanished from the room through the teleporter, once again leaving Rose to lament over her lost love...