Chapter 10-: Despair and Gratitude

The day had passed with a bland series of ordinary events. Time raged slowly with several simple battles against a few Garuda and Amigos, and I think the only highlight of our advance through the Oradian Dunes so far was an assault a Dune Harpy launched on me...

:No One's Point of View:

The Liberation Force progressed at a lazy pace with the slow daze of the desert surrounding them. They traveled in the usual formation; Sigmund, Edward, and Kalia in the lead, Michelle, Rico, and Rucha in the center, and Capell, Aya, Balbagan, and Eugene guarding the back. Even the keen senses of the adept members were overpowered as their minds were wrapped in oblivion and the drowsy pace of barren surroundings, and they had failed to notice a Dune Harpy perched atop a tall, beige colored rock. It was delicately preening until the Force dragged by, and considering its victim its comfort was disturbed by one of the more powerful auras.

With a waste of self-pampering the Dune Harpy unfolded its wings, and with a wicked screech, dove off the rock, swooping down for a (surprisingly) attention-absent, black haired girl. In a swift movement the Harpy took Kalia from her left, shoving her and grappling both of her shoulders with savage talons of a wild monster; realization finally woke the rest of the members (with the expectant exception of Capell, who had a delayed reaction of a drowsy, "Huh?") and Michelle inhaled a sharp gasp.

Kalia let out a grunt as her body was violently slammed into a large, sand colored stone with the thought, "That's gonna bruise like bloody hell!"

Her black eyes widened and she clenched her jaw tightly as she narrowly avoided the barrage of rapid pecks from the Harpy's sharp beak.

The Black Angel channeled a surge of power and, with near-inhuman speed, reached up for a foot that was keeping her against the rock and roughly pulled the monster's body down. She quickly jammed her palm against its torso so the positions were traded in her way of returning the pleasantry of being miraculously pressed against a rock while something attempted to stab your face into a bloody mass. This habit of returning exchanges of these lovely encounters were, of course, only part of Kalia's common courtesy.

Once the Dune Harpy was in place she immediately reeled her fist back and landed heavy blows repeatedly on the monster's face with irritated roars of, "How do you like that, you blasted bird!", and "This. Is why. You do not attack a Liberation Force soldier. When you. Are not. Worthy!"

It sounded with piercing squawks in return. Kalia ended the performance; she gracefully bounced a step back and, with a foot surrounded by black energy and flickers of shock waves, closed the battle with an expert roundhouse to the Harpy's face.

She stood panting for a moment, hunched over slightly with her hands placed on her knees before turning back to the rest of the Liberation Force.

Everyone aside from the Liberator and Eugene (and Capell, who was expectantly babbling idiotically while attempting to hide behind a much-shorter Aya) blinked at her.

"Um." Edward cast her a 'What kind of berry potions have you been sniffing?' kind of look.

"Well then... let's move on, shall we?" Though smiling in a sheepishly proud way (if that made any sense), she was still breathing heavily.

Kalia began to move towards the group, gripping her own hips as she arched her back slightly to stretch and took her place beside Sigmund again.

:Kalia's Point of View:

-Nighttime; Oradian Dunes Encampment; Kalia's tent-

I stared at the paper, a brilliant quill hovering above it dipped in ink of the deepest, most unfathomable black. I needed to organize my thoughts.

'Do I really have to come to this kind of solution? Is the world so distraught that I have to use this as a last resort?'

'Tick-tock.' I hesitated for a brief moment before swiftly tracing letters on the paper before me.

'Passing time is torture to me, considering how it extends my living as... a sin? A lie? A fraud?'

All of the above, unfortunately. To speak in somewhat more positive terms, at least I can be honest about something, right? … If only it could actually be admitted to the public. I'm insulting myself and everyone; they all trust their secrets with me – they believe in my loyalty and trust – but I have hardly admitted anything about myself in the two years I've served under Lord Sigmund.

I shame the Liberation Force. Each day that passes with me being here increases that shame. But would it help to lessen the time frame to reduce the level of iniquity? Admitting it now would make it so when the news get out the story won't be as tragic. It'd be better than sitting like a damned duck and then announcing the truth – I could just imagine;

'The Black Angel is no angel!'

'She kept it from everyone that long?'

… I don't think I need that. It's a depressing thing, but most vital options are, and as of the present I have only that choice: I must wait – test my own patience, I suppose. The only choice I have is to take up the battlefield again, again, as many times as the Force requires me to, until He's dealt with. But He is the very last opponent... Unless He generously decides to grace us with His presence miraculously ahead of schedule... Now that would prove to be a difficult situation...

I suddenly paused and glanced around the tent interior at nothing stupidly, muttering quietly, "I hope He isn't paying attention right now..."

I averted my gaze and continued to scribble furiously, 'Damn this blood tie! … Or the half it is. Why did she'-

The quill slipped from between my fingers, but I adeptly swept it back up into my hand before it made contact with the ground. I twirled it between my index finger and thumb, staring at it in an absent-minded, guilty daze. I let my vision go out of focus into a hazy blur.

'How could I let a rant on paper go so far? Right. It's because I'm a careless idiot and that's what drove me into this mess a long time ago.'

I didn't dare to continue that previous thought; disgrace and remorse refrained me from doing so. I was so ashamed for cursing a good deed – one that possibly rescued me from the possibility of me isolating myself into my own, silent solitude. As I began to wallow in a momentary self-hating I promptly let the quill fall.

I swiftly swept up the paper and crushed it into a clump in my hand, my fury forcing me upwards as I ignored the numbness that developed in my legs from sitting, and I roughly shoved my way through the tent flaps, storming out into the camping space. I was relieved that no one else was out here but there was also the wave of humiliation that washed over me for not checking first. I shook my head where I had paused temporarily before resuming my storming towards a tall, rock swirled with the colors of cream and tan a short but safe distance from the Liberation Force encampment.

I held my arm out in front of me, splaying my fingers to reveal the now-distorted piece of parchment. I stared at it intently, focusing all my resentment and displeasure and distress towards it. A flame, one that burst into what was perhaps unnecessarily over-sized for the occasion, and then brilliant, glowing embers formed before me before the object that was once in my palm had faded into the night when a light gust of wind swept the ash from my hand.

I sighed and backed up against the rock, sliding down as I rested against it. I ran a hand through my charcoal colored hair and closed my eyes, hiding the agitation that was currently embedded within them.

'If only memories could be burned away like that, so simply. So easily.' I thought, drowning myself in a pathetic state of self-pitying.

I sensed another presence, even in my unsettled condition. They advanced towards me with stealthy steps and took a seat beside me soundlessly.

"What are you doing out here, Edward?" I did not open my eyes, nor did I move. I didn't really try to hide the irritation in my voice, either, which was a choice followed by transgression; it probably seemed like I was annoyed with him, which I obviously wasn't. I really didn't appreciate letting my composure slip. What good was a soldier to be if they were over-emotional and mindless – not to mention selfish in the way of pointing their anger at whomever they pleased (or in my case, whatever unlucky soul that was conveniently at the hand of my unintentional verbal abuse).

"Hm. Interesting how we always say things the other wants to." He replied with an amused ennui.

I wore my energy further when I opened my eyes and lazily slurred my response, "Suuuure is."

The swordsman sighed, "Well? What is it then?"

I clenched my jaw but immediately loosened it again in hopes hat Edward didn't notice (even with his swiftness I hoped – and by swiftness, I meant his... 'wonderful' ability to notice my I'm-Uncomfortable-And/Or-Perplexed Habits), "Something, everything, nothing." I said.

I felt him push at my shoulder, "You can stop avoiding the question." He hissed in a half-irritated tone, and I could tell he was attempting to refrain his frustration.

Even though it was out of my typical manners I allowed my vision to go out of focus as I drew my legs up to my chest and I began to flick at my steel knee guards wordlessly.

"Kalia. No response, no eye contact makes it even more obvious that something's bothering you," he murmured, sounding more deflated than I, "I sometimes wish you would just stop hiding things to yourself. The Liberation Force is made up of your allies – I thought that had some meaning to you." The sapphire-eyed boy exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair.

After the second it took for the words to register in my semi-attentive mind my hand froze from the flicking and I blinked and peered at him out of the corner of my eye.

He shifted uncomfortably and turned so I could only see profile, "Do you think it's easy for me," - he quickly added - "or anyone else in the Force to always see you spaced out in thought?"

"... or maybe if you didn't at least so mentally disturbed when you're thinking we wouldn't give this much of a damn." He mumbled under his breath, but it was audible enough for me to know that he had intended for me to hear it.

"Well, it's not exactly like I'm aware that I look," - I used air quotes - "'mentally disturbed' when I'm thinking." I stated plainly, mouth set into a thin line.

"Still." He argued, turning back a little more towards me now. "You... just look more and more like you're about to implode each time you're in negative thought." In the moonlight I caught his frown.

My inner self scoffed, 'Not like it'd be a bad thing if you knew the truth.'

Instead I turned my body slightly and said, "Please, Edward. You're insulting me. You should know that I have a little more control than that. Imploding is not among my list of abilities, thank you." I mustered up some strength to force a sincere smile – and I'm not trying to convince him so he'd leave me be. I'm forcing a sincere smile so he knows that I'm alright.

'But am I?'

He scoffed with a slight eye roll, "What with the speed you create and improve abilities you may just run out of useful ones and resort to things like imploding out of boredom."

"Hey!" My mouth was pulled into a grin as I punched him in the arm.

He chuckled, "At least you're smiling again."

I exhaled and leaned back on the rock again. "So what if I'm not smiling? I'm only human."

"Somewhat." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye quickly when he caught my sudden straightening in attention, and continued, "Even if black, you are the Black Angel. Smiling is a better fit for the angelic, rather than self-destructing. Don't you agree?"

I laughed and felt a little more weight lift off my chest, "I'd be a moron if I didn't, and I'm only an idiot."

He laughed as well before we both settled back against the rock in a period of silence.

Little time passed before I leaned over, grinning again, and asked, "So... why are you out here again?"

There was a rustle of cloth from a short distance;

"Ed? What's taking you so long? You said you needed to get some fresh air. It's been a while and I think I heard something!" Came Capell's voice, and the last sentence was a nervous hiss. Actually, he sounded helplessly horrified...

'Was he eavesdropping...?'

Ed slid down more against the rock with a groan, "Speaking of morons... you don't have to share a tent with one." Then he inhaled once before calling back out with as little annoyance as he could for the sake of the fortunate ones bestowed in slumber, "I am getting some fresh air! And it's taking so long because your stupidity is suffocating."

… Silence (or as much silence as possible as I refrained from bursting out into laughter).

"... well that wasn't very nice." Capell replied, and then another shuffling indicated that he had returned farther back into the tent.

I began to laugh, "Oh goodness, I understand now. If I were you I'd sit out here all night and hope for a Harpy to peck my face out again," I took a deep breath, "but aren't you getting a bit too touchy about this?" I smirked.

"You're not the one sharing a small, closed space with that." He pointed to his and Capell's tent.

That was true, though. Before the Liberator look-alike's recruit the only ones who shared a tent were Balbagan and Eugene. Currently speaking, Aya and Michelle shared one and Rico and Rucha shared... and obviously Edward and Capell. The only one's still left to privacy were Lord Sigmund and I (though I only because I had more privacy issues than Michelle or Aya, and I wasn't exactly sly on the idea of sharing a tent with a stranger). Michelle wasn't going to have the luxury of one to herself because – well – to her it wasn't a luxury; she was afraid that monsters would be lurking after the Harpy assault prior to the night.

"Yes, well..." I didn't bother finishing while my fingers moved along in the sand. "Eh. You should be heading back in. It's getting late and poor Capell is getting scared." I couldn't help as the smirked inched back onto my features.

Edward grimaced.

Neither of us said anything for a while after that.

"Edward?" My voice was thoughtful and hushed.

"Yeah?" He looked over at me.

I turned to him.

"Thank you." I meant it. I offered him a genuine smile – the most genuine in a long time.

He blinked several times and hastily lowered his gaze and presented his profile to me once again. "You're... you're welcome."

I just remembered that a full-on, completely emotional thanks was probably awkward to him. It probably would've been awkward if I was in his place, too...

I rose and stretched, "Well, g'night, Ed. Until the morrow, dear."

As I turned to leave I thought to myself solemnly, 'I honestly am very grateful to you. I hope you know that. And I wish that when I have everything in order I am able to repay you with more than just simple words.'

:No One's Point of View:

Edward

The young Liberation Force soldier watched as his fellow swordsman (or in this case, swordswoman) walked away.

'Please don't tell me she saw that, please don't tell me she saw that, please don't tell me she saw that, please don't tell me she saw that.' He thought to himself in panic.

Of all people Edward had reddened. And because he had witnessed a completely and totally sincere thanks and a smile full of more gratitude than he had ever imagined. He reddened twice, too. When he had indirectly admitted his concern and turned away.

He shook his head and stood, brushing himself off, when the sand captured his attention: words that Kalia had unconsciously traced. He moved closer cautiously, careful to not smudge anything.

'My only savior will be myself.'

He felt his insides cave a little; he didn't understand. But the sentence seemed to be inscribed with the despair that was transferred from the Black Angel's touch when she had written it. Edward frowned and smeared the mystifying message with his foot.

'So she is worried about something.'

With a sigh the navy-haired teen swiveled on his heels and trudged back to his tent spitefully at the thought of returning to Capell. He pushed through the tent flaps and prayed that the other boy was asleep. Poor Edward was met with ill fortune; as he stepped inside the dimply lit tent Capell sat up from his place and blinked at him.

"... so... you and Kalia...?" He raised an auburn colored brow.

Ed's eye twitched. "What!"

There was a reason why Capell needed to control his mouth:

A small jar of ink was hurled directly at his head.