The Last Waltz
By Dauthi
It's done. My own little contribution to the Simoun fandom. On one hand, I am dissatisfied with it, and probably always will be. On the other hand, I'm proud of what I wrote and the time I spent on it. I had never intended to write this at all, but sometimes these things happen. I hope you enjoy the story.
Floef shot up at the cliffs blindly, automatic rifle jerking him back with every trigger-pull. The air was thick with the smog of gun residue. An atmosphere of death hung over the battlefield, accentuated by the absence of the sun and the heaviness of the mist,
He stopped firing for a moment to reload as a cry to advance came from his platoon leader. Peeking out from the pitted tree he was hidden behind, he made a mad dash for the cover of the blueberry bushes immediately in front of him. A bullet whistled past his ear. Crouching behind the bushes, he raised his rifle again and sighted along the edge of the cliff. Before he had a chance to shoot though, a body tumbled down the slope of the cliff and careened straight into him with a dull thump. Floef fell backwards onto the ground, the rifle knocked out of his hand by the impact. He found himself with a sharp elbow digging into his abdomen and a trembling knife held in his face. He stared quietly at his assailant, waiting for the inevitable slice of cold steel.
"Floe?" the shadowed face said instead, incredulously.
Floef squinted. He could barely make out the features of the soldier, but the voice was distinct and familiar.
"Vyura?"
A faint smile appeared on the stranger's face, and he rolled off of Floef, only to collapse and grasp his arm in pain. Floef was quickly at the man's side, inspecting his injuries worriedly.
"Do you think you can run for it?" Floef asked. "The west side of the forest has Plumbum troops encamped on it, but if you go straight through to the south side you'll be okay."
"Probably not," Vyuraf responded. "I can walk, but it will be slow going."
Floef bit his lip for a moment, then shrugged and slung Vyuraf's good arm over his shoulder. Casting a surreptitious glance about the battlefield, he began crawling very slowly away.
"What are you doing?" Vyuraf gasped.
"Running away," Floef replied, a sneaky grin on his face.
"Won't they notice you're gone?"
"Not while there's fighting going on. They'll probably just assume I died or deserted in a moment of panic or something. They've stopped collecting bodies to give them a proper funeral. Our army's falling into shambles. Your side's gonna win."
Floef dragged Vyuraf through the trees. They waited patiently when the sounds of gunfire momentarily quelled and then started off again when the fighting resumed. At length they emerged from the woods, where a glittering lake, a decrepit old ship, and the ruins of a house greeted them. A small camp had been erected, but it was devoid of any human life except for two sentries who stood as still as statues, staring straight ahead at the main road. The somber silence was discomfiting in contrast to the steady staccato of gunshots that was still ringing in their ears. Vyuraf stared.
"I didn't know we were this close to your house," he whispered, frozen.
"Yeah, you guys have really gotten deep into our territory," Floef replied, "Come on, this way. Be really quiet."
He led Vyuraf along the edge of the woods, frowning slightly as they paused for a moment so that Vyuraf could rest and spit out blood from his mouth.
"You've gotten serious," Vyuraf commented, as they reached the end of the forest. Forbidding mountains loomed straight ahead, a desolate brown that lacked even the smallest shrubs.
"It's an unfortunate side effect," Floef said wryly, plastering an infectious smile back on his face. "Don't worry, I'll totally return to being an immature lecher as soon as the war is over." He helped Vyuraf stagger down the small slope and walked to the opening of a small cave. A motorboat floated serenely in the darkness.
"You hid your motorboat here?" Vyuraf asked, surprised. He jumped a little as his voice echoed off the walls of the cave.
"I wasn't about to let them touch this," Floef replied, a little scornfully. He helped Vyuraf into the boat, which rocked gently from side to side, creating unnaturally tranquil ripples.
"Sorry that I don't have anything to treat your arm with," Floef said, as he clambered into the boat himself. He removed his battered helmet and shook the beads of sweat in his hair out.
"That's okay," Vyuraf said, "You probably wouldn't have been very good anyway. I still remember your handiwork with Rodoreamon's doll."
Floef scowled. Vyuraf laughed a little, then choked, a small trickle of blood dribbling out of the side of his mouth. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at Floef expectantly. Floef, noticing Vyuraf's stare, smiled a little sheepishly and shrugged.
"I don't really know what to do next," he admitted.
"Oh," Vyuraf said, raising an eyebrow, "I was under the impression that you had a plan…"
"It was an impulse decision," Floef said, glaring.
Vyuraf shook his head in amusement. "Alright," he said, taking authority, "let's look at our options."
"One, we could stay here. Two, we could take this boat somewhere. Three, we could get out of here and go somewhere else."
He stared at the mouth of the cave, concentrating. Floef followed Vyuraf's gaze, waiting silently for his command.
"Well, we can't head somewhere else, because according to you, the rest of the area is surrounded too," Vyuraf said, "And we can't stay here, because the trail of blood is too obvious."
"We can stay here," Floef interrupted, "The ground has probably soaked up your blood by now. We just don't have any supplies, and once this battle ends we'll either be found by the winning army or we just won't be able to escape."
"So we'll have to take the boat somewhere," Vyuraf concluded.
"It's all dead mountains out there," Floef said, "It would be fine if we could get beyond them, but…" he looked pointedly at Vyuraf's dangling arm.
"Can we wait for the nighttime and go somewhere?" Vyuraf asked.
"We could," Floef said, "But I don't know where we'd go. The only part surrounding the lake that isn't mountains is that little peninsula where my house is – I mean used to be."
"Well, alright," Vyuraf conceded. They lapsed into silence, interrupted only by the occasional cough from Vyuraf.
"Why did you save me?" Vyuraf asked presently, "Why didn't you just leave me there? You wouldn't have put yourself in such an impossible predicament then."
"Couldn't just leave you injured there," Floef responded, reclining back, "Someone else would have found you and shot you. Besides, I don't really like this war anyway."
Vyuraf laughed. "Who does?"
"Some people must do," Floef replied, "This is our second one in just ten years." A thought suddenly hit him, and he sat up straight. "Hey, we could head to the Arcus Prima!"
"Are you sure we could make it unnoticed?" Vyuraf asked.
"It's a long shot," Floef said, "but it's better than waiting here doing nothing. Besides, there are probably first-aid kits still intact on the Prima."
"Eh," Vyuraf said doubtfully. He didn't raise any objections though, and Floef started up the motorboat.
They sped out from the cove, Vyuraf wincing every time the boat rocked. Everything went perfectly until the last few minutes. Someone must have spotted them, for soon shots were whizzing towards them, but the boat was too far away and obscure, and the bullets plunked into the water like raindrops. In a short while the barrage of gunfire stopped as the soldiers turned instead to face the more immediate enemy that had crashed through the clearing and engaged them.
"They're trampling all over my beets," Floef said sadly.
"I remember those," Vyuraf recalled, "they were delicious. The best ones, probably, out of everything you ever planted."
Floef frowned, perplexed. "I don't think I ever gave any to you. I was growing them for a girl."
"Oh, I know," Vyuraf responded, smiling, "I stole some from you."
Floef's face blew up. "VYURA," he yelled angrily, eyes narrowed.
Suddenly the shadow of the Arcus Prima fell over them, and Floef cut the power, letting the boat drift into the hull of the ship. He took out a cord of rope from the boat and lashed it to a jagged piece of steel. After setting foot on the partially submerged deck of the ship, he turned around and extended a hand to Vyuraf.
"Come on."
Smiling in awe, Vyuraf rejected Floef's hand and hoisted himself onto the deck. He stood still for a moment, gazing off into the distance, then turned and walked towards the interior. Floef shrugged and followed behind him. They reached the ornate doors of the ship just as the sounds of fighting on land petered out, and scurried into the cover of the corridors. Floef found a dry bedroom and opened the door, letting Vyuraf collapse onto a bed. Floef then retrieved one of the first-aid kits from the mahogany cabinet in the room and proceeded to bandage Vyuraf's arm, whistling to himself cheerfully.
"They'll find us, you know," Vyuraf murmured, staring up at the decaying ceiling. The bed creaked with rust under his weight, and the mattress sighed like a crushed sponge. "The boat's too obvious of a sign."
"Yeah," Floef said, "I should go cut the rope."
"They probably already know; those soldiers were shooting at the boat, and whoever won has most definitely seen the boat just floating out next to the Arcus Prima, even through all this mist."
"Your side won," was all Floef said, looking out through the open window.
Indeed, the small figures on the shore were gesturing frantically to each other, and one foolish man had begun to swim towards the ship. Floef did not talk about any of this. He just watched.
"I'm glad you brought me to the Arcus Prima," Vyuraf said, still staring at the ceiling. "It feels right to die here."
"Don't say that, silly," Floef admonished. "You're not going to die, I fixed you up, and your side's going to rescue you."
"No, it's not that," Vyuraf replied. "I think I might be bleeding inside. I'm pretty sure I broke a few of my ribs falling down that cliff, and I'm coughing up far too much blood. By the time they get here I'll have bled to death."
"Please don't do that," Floef said. "It would really not be cool to be found with just a dead body next to me when they get here."
Vyuraf chuckled. "You know, you really should have just left me and made a run for it yourself," he mused.
"Again, wasn't about to leave you there to defend your helpless self," Floef replied, annoyed. "Besides, we're all going to die anyway, so I might as well die next to someone I like rather than randomly in the middle of the battlefield with no one I know."
Vyuraf sighed. After another coughing fit he got up and walked slowly out into the hall. Floef followed.
"What are you doing?" Floef asked.
"I want to explore the Arcus Prima one last time before I bleed to death and you get shot," Vyuraf replied, trailing his hand along the peeling wallpaper.
They walked agreeably in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing in tandem, before stumbling on a cartoon drawing of them on the wall, the thick black lines still sharp and clear.
"Woah," Vyuraf exclaimed, "It's Chor Tempest!"
Floef grinned proudly, but pouted immediately as he noticed his caricature on the wall.
"I didn't look like that," he squawked in protest, "Why do I have stupid hearts for eyes instead of just regular eyes?!"
Vyuraf just smirked and did not deign Floef with an answer. His own eyes popped out upon noticing his own portrait on the wall though.
"Hey," Vyuraf said, "Why do I look so demonic and evil?"
"You sure were ugly back then," Floef agreed, nodding. Vyuraf punched Floef with his good arm.
"Ow!" Floef yelled, rubbing his shoulder. He glared at Vyuraf, who just whistled innocently until Floef broke out in giggles. Vyuraf grinned.
"Who did this?" he asked.
"Paraietta," Floef replied, "I haven't spoken to her in a while. I hope her orphanage is doing okay."
They lapsed into silence again, and at length Vyuraf turned his eyes from the painting on the wall and started off once more. The fog overlaying the corridors became heavier and heavier as the illuminating lamps became dimmer and dimmer. Water dripped an erratic melody from a collapsed roof panel. Presently they arrived at the set of double doors leading into the dining hall. The embossed symbols had faded into barely distinguishable lines, and even the rust on the handles was flaking off. Vyuraf gazed at the imposing doors, nostalgia clouding over his eyes. Floef, noticing this, strode forward and pushed against one of the doors. It thundered open, and a few rays of light sparkled over the two through the broken windows. The sun was peeking through the clouds.
They meandered from table to table, running their hands over the frayed holes in the velvet-covered chairs in wonder. The floorboards groaned, and several times splintered underneath their weight.
"Aw geez," Floef suddenly exclaimed, his face screwing up. "I never got a cute bride!"
Vyuraf, though initially startled, soon recovered and began laughing, although it was short-lived as he doubled over in pain, squeezing his eyes shut.
"It would be you," he gasped, "always thinking about girls, even in moments like these."
Floef grinned a little embarrassedly. "Getting a pretty bride was my one goal in life," he complained.
Vyuraf just smiled, and worked on standing up straight again. When he finally opened his eyes, he was taken aback to see Floef's face astonishingly close to him, close enough so that Vyuraf could count the light orange freckles on Floef's cheekbones.
"Well," Floef said intently, "You're pretty enough I guess. You can be my bride."
"Eh? What?" Vyuraf stammered, blushing, "But-"
Ignoring him, Floef walked over to the ancient music player still standing majestically in the middle of the empty hall. He fiddled with the needle for a moment, then turned around and smiled brightly at Vyuraf. Glass shards glittered around his feet.
"May I have this dance?"
Vyuraf stared for another moment, then shook his head, half in amazement, half in affection, and grinning, stepped forward.
If the music player didn't seem as dusty or broken as everything else in the great hall, neither of them noticed.