Did I mention I really love the Tales series?

SO, this is just something to tide you over until the next NTFT chapter comes out. I wrote this about 2 years ago, and I definitely was too lazy to fix it. I might continue if it gets enough, I just didn't really like where the over all plot was going so I called it quits.

"I'm travelling quite a ways you know."

Her sapphire eyes continued staring blankly out the stained glass window; moonlit panes decorated the entire room with bright colors, painting the floor with scenes of Yulia's last days on Auldrant.

Reading the Score had become an activity that was now widely considered a sin, though there were some who still held dear the traditions of old. It would not be easy to stamp out that tradition either, Luke had come to discover. He was positive though, that even if someone had read for him the news that he had just received, he would still be surprised.

"Cults… you're sure?"

She turned towards the hero, recovering from her trance. Her eyes were alive now, not void of emotion like they were just seconds ago.

"You act like this is a scenario that could have never possibly happened, not within another of Yulia's lifetimes." Tear expressed, in a tone too serious for Luke's liking. She brought her arms up to her chest and crossed them. She began to pace back and forth, walking the line between deep thought and aggravatingly trying to explain the situation. It almost seemed like she was talking to herself.

"Their groups are larger than what we would have originally anticipated." Her muffled footsteps came to a pause. Tear turned her gaze towards the hero and became suddenly aware of the room that they were in. The study's bookshelves towered over them, framing Luke in an eerie manner with a wall of darkness that receded behind him. The whole area smelled of dust and old wood, and it would remain that way no matter how many times the maids and the servants cleaned it. No matter how many times they had tried to air it out during the cool summer nights, it lingered. Luke's mother had hoped that the aroma of Père's flowers would infiltrate and freshen up the space, but the odor of Baticul's history on parchment remained. The floor was covered in luxurious red carpets woven with emerald green and gold thread. The pattern was elaborate but did not depict anything in particular.

"Tear?"

His voice had penetrated her thoughts, much like they always did. She had worried him, she realized.

It would be best not to delay this any longer.

She let out a long sigh. It was only then that she realised that she had been blushing. Flustered, she turned towards the window and resumed with her serious tone.

"We thought they were small cells at first. But the network… it grows more every day. With their group growing so large, it's becoming harder to keep track of where they are. Grand Chokmah sent word of a recent development too. Luke, it's terrible, they-"

Her words and the expression on her face had become more panic stricken than she realized. When she turned to face him, he was much closer than before. It was natural of him nowadays to sneak up on people, unintentionally of course. That being said, she was caught off guard more by his proximity to her than his newfound stealth. The emerald green eyes she had grown to love now narrowed in on her own, waiting for what she had to say next. Tear felt a deep pit begin to form in her stomach. Was she nervous because he was so close, or was it this new development she did not wish to burden him with? It was a cause and a situation dear to the two young warriors, and she thought perhaps it was more important for him to know than anyone else, given his special circumstances.

"What, Tear? What are they doing that you are having such a difficult time telling me-"

"Sacrifices, Luke." She expressed in a huff. Tear was worried for his resolve; living a full life of memory and atonement for his mistakes, which consumed a lot of thought and hardships in order for him to strengthen.

"Sacrifices?" He was slow on the uptake. Where this would have once been normal for him, she was surprised. His powers of perception had improved tremendously since his return. Perhaps it was because he refused to think of the many outcomes that included sacrifice; because he had made so many painful ones that he wished he could forget.

He was frustrated, he was confused, he was annoyed. He wanted to know, and that became extremely relevant from the look on his face. He let out a strong, flustered sigh and rubbed his forehead with his hands. This was the default action for Luke that meant he was becoming impatient. She would not delay it any longer.

"We're convinced that these instances occur only in the smaller, localized groups." She closed her eyes and delivered the next bit with a resolute tone. "They're sacrificing the replicas… something about repenting for trying to abolish the score." Her strength started to deteriorate when she thought about how torn he must feel. After all, this was not something one could easily digest like iced tea on a hot summer day.

"Were not entirely sure when it started…"

Tear waited for his response, a change in the way he carried himself that would indicate some sort of a reaction. What she searched for was all in vain. He did not move, he did not blink, he did not sigh and he did not thrash around like an ill-tempered child. He did nothing except peer endlessly into her soul, expression unchanged for what seemed like an eternity.

Did he hear me?

"Luke, did you-"

"You're serious…" The saviour's eyes drifted off to the side.

The calm in his voice was not what she expected, and quite frankly she was mortified over the thought that he didn't seem very upset at all. She scowled at him.

"Am I?"

Tear pushed passed him. Suddenly, his presence became overwhelming. Her stomach was turning. Of course she was serious! She knew he understood the predicament they were in, why was he not reacting the way he should? Why was she acting so dramatic? If Tear could paint a picture of the contents of her mind at this very moment, it would look like a mass of bright, clashing colors going to war.

"Tear!"

She hadn't noticed, but on her journey towards the study exit Luke had been calling after her, progressively louder until he was able to jar her back into reality. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"I'm sorry…" she muttered silently. She was acting the part of a dramatic fool. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable in her own skin. He was the only one that could do this to her and it drove her mad.

Again, his words pierced her thoughts like arrows.

"I'm invested in this, just like you. But you were looking for something, right?" he spoke softly. "The thing is, I would have also expected myself to haul off without a plan too, but I can't do that anymore." His voice echoed across the room. Every word he spoke was true. "I'm not saying that they are in their rights to butcher innocent people, but they are my people."

Tear turned around so she could see him. The distance felt familiar.

"We'll have to work through this."

"Killing replicas might not be considered loss of life to these people. They might not even listen to you."

"We're not there yet." The red head traveled forward, slowly, bridging the gap between them. He put a hand on her shoulder and delivered his next line with poetic justice.

"Change, like you know, doesn't happen overnight. I'm just glad I had someone there to see me through it."

His touch lingered for just a moment longer. Pushing open the dark timber doors, he left Tear stewing in her own thoughts. The rhythm of his steps receded down the hall until they could not be heard. A smirk crept onto her face.

Still an idiot.