ArissaMay: I realize the first chapter was short. That may just explain why it was the PROLOGUE. :P And one review? I don't suck THAT bad, do I:P

Chapter Two

The storm outside was fierce. So fierce, the cottage itself seemed to sway and quiver under it's wrath. A single candle was flickering faithfully in the dark, though it seemed to struggle against the tempest as well, despite the fact that four walls and a roof were sheltering it from the elements. But the candle refused to go out. It seemed to know that its company was needed. For it was the sole companion of the half-elven scholar who worked tirelessly in its light.

The half-elf was bent over an assortment of papers, a quill in her left hand, scribbling notes furiously down on the paper closest to herself, with her practiced hand angled upward so as not to smudge the ink she'd just laid. Occasionally, she'd reach up with the same hand and brush her silver hair out of her face, and every so often her action left some sort of black ink trail on her cheek. Unless, of course, she'd uncovered one of her bottles of blue or red ink, but it had been quite a while since such a tremendous event had occurred. So the ink-streaks were usually black. But she didn't bother to wipe them away. 'If you're going to be an archeologist,' she once said, 'you can't be afraid to get dirty.' And though I doubt this is the 'dirty' she was referring to, it was regarded under the same principle.

Besides, who would see them?

It had been approximately three months, nine days, six hours, and fourty five minutes since she had seen another familiar face. And nearly two weeks since she'd seen another being at all. The scholar tended to buy simplistic meals in bulk, and haul them back to her cottage, to emerge again in approximately three weeks. Always in bulk, always simplistic. Even living a solitary life, she'd never truly learned to cook. Maybe it was because she lived a solitary life, where she wasn't pressured to impress others with her culinary skills. Heh, what culinary skills? The others had always told her that the best way to kill an enemy was to feed it some of her cooking. She had always laughed along with them, but secretly, she didn't mind at all that all the cracks about her cooking were over.

But she knew she'd tolerate a million more if it meant things could be how they were before. For she was Raine Sage. And the solitude was killing her, piece by piece.

Thunder sounded from outside, and the half-elf jumped, shocked back into reality. She glanced around her wildly, only to find herself in her cottage, her studies laid out before her. At the top of her sheet of notes, there was the heading, 'The Harnessing and Deflecting of Mana'. She turned her attention back down to the end, where she'd written a theory on using mana-infused shields to bounce attacks back at their creator, but found herself unable to focus. Her mind kept wandering back to the others. Her friends. Or so she still called them, despite the fact that she hadn't seen them in years, since the two worlds were combined and referred to collectively as Symphonia.

She knew where they all were, of course... Though she rarely went out, she always found out some way or another. Lloyd and Colette lived happily in Iselia Forest, smack dab in between Iselia and Dirk's house. They had an amazing two-story house, courtesy of the villagers. They were happy, and madly in love. Lloyd wasn't quite ready to give up adventure for the quiet life, however, so he'd often make excuses to venture to various areas on some sort of quest or another. Colette used to always accompany him, but she rarely went anymore; rumor has it that she's pregnant.

Genis went to the Palmacosta Academy, when the coastal town was rebuilt of course, and he was learning all he could to become a mage and a scholar. It was he who had last visited Raine which he did on the rare occasion that he wasn't studying or wooing Presea, and he sent her letters once every few weeks, but it wasn't the same. The Professor missed him, missed them all. But there wasn't much she could do about it.

Sheena and Zelos were inseparable. Raine never would have thought it possible. When she'd last seen them, even the goddess herself couldn't get Sheena in the same room as Tethe'alla's Chosen. Yet ever since Mizuho was destroyed, and they went on a quest for retribution, they hadn't been apart. The pair lived in Zelos's mansion, though Raine had caught hint of plans to move somewhere quieter, somewhere where Zelos's angry former-hunnies couldn't murder Sheena in her sleep.

Regal was in Altamira, faithfully running the Lezorano Company, and also aiding a group of people who were traveling about, caving exsphere mines. Raine thought that was a suitable task for him; she had guessed he couldn't restrict himself to the office for long, not after saving the world.

Presea was rebuilding Ozette, one piece at a time. She didn't get much help; occasionally Regal would drop by, or Lloyd would 'adventure' in her direction, but more commonly it was Genis by her side. He'd learned basic telekinesis in the Academy, and was using that to lift the heavier logs. Raine missed her brother, but at the same time she was proud of him and his persistence. It had been three years that he'd been attempting to woo Presea, and there was no end in sight.

And finally, Raine. The Professor had lived in Sybak for two years to further her knowledge, but she'd gotten frustrated with the lingering prejudice, and had moved to a cozy cottage on the beach just out of said town.

Who else was there? She felt like she'd forgotten to mention someone...

Kratos.

Kratos. First he was a stranger, then he was an ally, then he was a traitor, then he wasn't, then he was, then he was Lloyd's father, then he was gone. But no matter what he was, he'd never thought of her by her half-elven blood as many others had and still did, but instead by her personality and intelligence. She was always more than just a half-elf to him. But the only thing Raine knew about his whereabouts was that he left with Derris-Kharlan. She didn't even know if he was alive. Deep inside, she hoped he was. Though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she hoped he was, considering she'd never see him again in her life.

The half-elf froze. She'd heard something. A knocking, it sounded like. For a minute or two, she sat there, silent as the grave, listening. All was as it had been before, the storm howling and the candle flickering.

"I must be imagining things," Raine dismissed what she'd 'heard', turning back to the papers to take another go at her studies. Yet again, she heard a knocking, faint but there. The woman shook her head, trying to shake away all the hallucinatory sounds. "They're just figments of my imagination, brought on by my craving for company."

But then something happened that she couldn't dismiss.

There was a heavy thump on the door, and Raine's eyes widened. Lifting herself from the chair, she hurried over to the door. The storm assaulted her the moment she flung open the door, and behind her she could hear her neatly organized stacks of research flying about. But for once, she felt no urge to race back to her precious studies and repair the damage. For there was something on her doorstep. Something large. And when lightning illuminated the sky, the half-elf's eyes widened further still.

It was a human.

A man.

A mercenary.

A seraph.

Kratos.

Gasping in shock, she crouched down beside him, checking his pulse. He wasn't dead, which relieved her to no end. But he wasn't quite alive either. If she left him out here, soaking wet and freezing, he probably wouldn't last through the night.

Her mind made up, the half-elf slid a hand under his neck, and one over his chest and under his arm, linking hands to form a sort of loop to hoist him in with. Though she was stronger than most women, she still couldn't exactly lift the seraph either. Cursing to herself, she bit her lip and pulled harder and, when at last she'd lifted at least his torso off the ground, she half carried, half dragged him into her cottage, lowering him as gently as she could on a soft rug by the shadowed fireplace and hastily lighting a fire to warm him.

Now that the fire was going, she could examine him more closely. He seemed to have been through a lot, more than most men could handle, and his clothes were more bloody than not. Raine carefully removed his armor and his soaked, bloodstained white shirt, but refused to compromise his dignity and remove his similar pants. Sure, he had undergarments to hide whatever should be hidden, but still.

Quickly fetching a towel, she mopped the excess water from his hair and face, but could not dry them completely. This didn't bother her, however; that's partially what the fire was for. She looked over his many cuts and wounds and, reaching for her Crystal Rod, she summoned forth her healing mana.

"First Aid!" She softly commanded, and the end of her staff let off a soft glow. Holding it in one hand, she let the other hand hover over his deepest wounds, watching with satisfaction as they slowly closed up. Then, she moved her hand up toward his head, resting her forefinger and middle finger on his forehead.

"Heal!"

And with this, the mercenary visibly relaxed, as if the pain was eased away. Sure, he'd probably feel it in the morning, but for now, he was spared.

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet beside him, Raine watched her fallen 'companion', partially hoping he healed a bit before he awoke, and partially praying to Martel that he'd wake up and talk to her, offer her the company she'd craved for longer than she could clearly recall. For what seemed like hours she sat there, watching him sleep, but it was probably only five minutes. Then she shook her head, laughing dryly.

"One second I'm fine, then Kratos shows up on my doorstep and I'm completely useless," she commented to herself, rising to her feet and stepping back over to her table. The papers were in extreme disarray, and with a sigh she collected them once more, beginning the grueling task of sorting them back out. Which is a lot harder than it sounds, considering that for a few of them, Raine had been so excited that her writing was little more than chickenscratch. Yet she made progress. Sort of.

Every three or four papers, her gaze would drift back to the mercenary, pondering what had happened to him, why he wasn't on Derris Kharlan, and why he had chosen her doorstep to collapse on. Then she'd realize her mind was wandering, and she'd shake her head to clear it, turning back to her work.

As the night grew later and the candle grew shorter, it became harder and harder to focus. And when the first light shone in the sky, it found Raine Sage asleep at her desk, her head on the pile of papers she was sorting, and her candle burned out.

ArissaMay: Okay, this one was better I hope. The next one will probably be better still. Tell me if I don't have their characters right, well, Raine's at least. I'm new to writing as her.