Tough as Nails
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Baten Kaitos. If I did, I would be a rich girl. (And if I were a rich girl, na-na-na-na-/SHOT) I don't own Savyna either. I just think she's really cool.
NOTE: The Guardian Spirit is here referred to as Célina, as that is what I named her (myself?) in my game.
It was something she'd always been told, even as a child.
Not just to be strong. That was a burden in and of itself, and it was one that everyone had to own up to, she supposed, but that she was strong. She couldn't ever remember a time when she had not been looked up to, admired by friends and colleagues and from a distance, by those she barely knew.
That created a kind of pressure. She had to live up to others' expectations. She could not afford to let anyone down.
Being "strong" had its advantages. Relatively easy entry into the Mad Wolf Unit, for one; positions of command, for another. She was rarely questioned, even when she chose to act in ways that would normally concern those around her. And it was an exhilarating feeling, being strong; being cold, tough, frigid, distanced, unaffected by the petty worldly concerns around her—on a higher plane, so to speak.
Tough-as-nails Savyna, Lady Death. In some ways it was a persona she cherished.
There were times, though, when there was a downside to that strength.
Everyone knew the parable about the grass and the tree, Savyna supposed. To most, it was just a story, a half-forgotten lesson given by elders. To her, it was a troublesome caution, something she continually brought up to herself, the way others cut themselves off at the knees rather than develop an ego or shoved past deeds in their faces to prevent going down those roads ever again. It was a warning: Strength is all well and good, but too much iron in your backbone can make you brittle. Without giving your emotions a little space, you couldn't bend under pressure, and you ran the risk of breaking.
But it was a difficult warning to heed. At twenty-five, she was pretty firmly set in her ways, and she'd grown so used to being "the strong one" that it took painful effort to act any differently.
And so, she'd already run that risk, and come dangerously close to shattering.
The nightmare of the Azha massacre was never far from her mind. It seeped like a bitter poison through her heart, infecting her, dragging her down, filling her with tendrils of doubt and hate and sorrow that she rarely allowed to the steely surface of her being.
That was the closest she'd ever really come to a breakdown. As it was, she would have gone mad if she hadn't run away. Empty and aimless as her life had been once she'd left the Empire, she would not have been able to live with more bloodshed like that day.
Fighting was something that brought Savyna almost close to joy. Killing was not something she relished, but it was something she could live with. Killing someone unarmed and defenseless… no. It was unforgivable. It was a sin. That belief, already firm in her heart through her training, through her upbringing, crystallized after Azha. That clash between her rigid belief and what she'd done was what had unbalanced her.
Unbalanced… a good choice of words. Her grip on rationality, on sanity had been a bit tenuous for a moment or two back then. Only her long solitude had granted her the space to slowly pull herself back together.
She was "strong". Her strength made her weak and it sustained her.
There were times—oh, there were times when she almost envied the others. She could never have Gibari's open heart, or Mizuti's unbridled enthusiasm for living. She would never grieve as openly as Lyude, no matter how she suffered. She would never be as accepting of her own flaws as Kalas was of his.
She would never cry for a loved one or bare her soul like Xelha.
But instead of focusing on what she couldn't do, she would bring her attention to what she could.
Strength was her burden. She would use it to become her companions' safety net in times of turmoil, and hold them together.
(Savyna?)
Savyna felt the tentative touch at her mind like a hand on her shoulder. Though she recognized the Guardian Spirit's voice, she still looked up instinctively. Not that there was anything to see more than a flicker of bright light, as usual, but still.
"…Do you want something, Célina?"
(Well, it's just…) The voice paused, as if contemplating the appropriate answer. (I don't want to intrude on your thoughts, but you seemed kind of… troubled. I know you're the strong one in this group and you like being that way, but if it ever gets to be too much of a problem, we're always willing to listen. Everyone needs to vent once in a while.)
The corner of Savyna's mouth twitched. "…I'll keep that in mind if it ever comes to that. I don't need anything now, though… thank you."
The Guardian Spirit's laugh rang like the faint peal of bells. (That's our Savyna,) she remarked in good-natured resignation, (always tough as nails.)
At the familiar turn of phrase, Savyna smiled.
Owari.