Disc: Months have gone by and I still don't own Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy. Oh, and there's a kiss in this chapter. Just a heads up.
Deuce
Esmerelda saw the hunchback coming from the tower balconies, enthusiastic but still careful to keep pressure off his left leg. His state was a perfect reflection of the city- grievously injured, but getting better all the time with each day that passed in healing and peace. Everywhere there lay signs of rebuilding in the square, and no matter who or what they'd lost the townsfolk put on brave smiles for the young woman as she walked past the fallen doors of the cathedral.
"I'd heard he was up today", Quasimodo spoke as he jumped down to the bottom floor, no longer careful to avoid prying eyes. Whatever prejudices might have remained towards the unexpected hero were being deflected into the effort of rebuilding a city for the moment, and personally Esmerelda felt that a good majority of them had seen enough by now to know the hunchback meant them no harm.
They would see in time, but for now everything seemed on a gradual rise from a very dark place, not merely the city's condition. She smiled back, knowing perfectly well how he'd fallen for her now. "Well, he challenged Clopin today. I don't think he'd do that if he wasn't at least able to walk, do you?"
"He just might. He's amazing", Quasi remarked out of the blue, searching the square in vain to find their mutual acquaintance. "Not-Frollo must have blasted him fifty times and he kept on coming."
Esmeralda was fairly sure it had not been quite that many, but it was true that the Keyblade Master's skills were a league apart from anything the city had seen. Of course, even that might not help him here, she considered as they stepped into the gathering crowd apart from the tent cluster. There, Clopin was entertaining onlookers with a sequence of rubber balls that seemed to fly from his sleeves and leg trousers just as fast as he caught them the same way. Just to make it even trickier, he made a frantic-seeming 'river dance' while this was going on, prompting a few of the younger townsfolk to join in sans the sleeve-juggling.
Only upon seeing Esmerelda's face did he stop, catching all the midair balls before causing over a dozen of them to explode out of his chapeau. A practiced eye like hers could make out the sleight-of-hand and tricks her mentor performed as easily as breathing, but to the casual observer it would seem like impossible magicks, for the cap was far too small to have contained so many. Relena had taught him well. "We're very pleased to see all in such a bouncy mood today!" he announced to the crowd over a few groans. "Clopin is certain you're all sick of rebuilding things, so why not a little sideshow to spice things up?"
Always a born showman, the gypsy produced a small box from his pocket, letting everyone take a good look before he stretched it wide, pulling at both ends in mock-strain until it was as tall as he was, and then doing the same thing to increase its width. It was easier now to make out the question mark adorning all sides of the mysterious box, which Clopin now paced to build suspense.
"But mister Clopin!" he now protested to himself in the high-pitched child's trill he used for his hand puppets. "This show is booooring! I wanna see what's beyond the Grand Gate! I wanna-wanna-wanna!"
To Esmerelda's disbelief, she noticed now that Clopin had replaced his usual green sock with a pink one decorated with brown straw and blue-button eyes to vaguely resemble Sora, complete with a normal-sized house key glued to it. Heedless of how many people recognized that, he continued onward, lecturing in a tone of concern. "Oh non-non-non, you silly child. Past the Grand Gate lies a dangerous beast that eats curious little boys!"
"I'm not scared!" the puppet-voice answered. "I'm a strong warrior; I can beat the beast with my giant key!"
"Ooh non-non, you must not go."
"Oui oui oui, he's meant for me!"
Smirking, he made an aside glance at the audience. "Ah, youth. Tell you what, monsieur Sora, if you can prove yourself stronger and more skilled than old Clopin here, you can pass the Grand Gate."
"Oh-kay!"
Without any further delay, the sock puppet lunged, crashing into Clopin's slender face and knocking him flat on the cobblestones, looking basely surprised as if he hadn't just punched himself. "Zut! Arret! Do over! I wasn't ready!"
With that, he threw the Sora puppet into the crowd for someone to catch, and strode over to box to get the real show underway, tapping it gently several times with one gloved index finger. The four sides to slapped to the ground, and revealed the genuine article taking a showman's bow together with the gypsy leader and inciting a new round of applause. Many of those present were already familiar with Clopin's shows, but he rarely ever did them with a partner, much less one so inexperienced. Even Esmerelda was going back through her memory of all the various tricks her mentor had shown her over the years, trying to figure just what combination he could have used to fit Sora inside that tiny little box.
While the two of them were still all smiles, they still parted with the caution of foes, one conjuring his Keyblade, the other a pair of short knives from nowhere.
"To keep this fair", Clopin spoke to his dueling opponent, "let us say the first to deliver three blows wins. I trust you'll be a gentleman, monsieur Sora, and strike with the flat end this time."
"I don't know…" Sora replied in fake doubt as he sized up his opponent. "I hit you pretty hard the first time, you sure you don't want to take a rest first?"
"Bah! I shall defeat both you and your two identical twins!" the gypsy boasted playfully. "En garde!"
Spending no further time with banter, both lunged… And passed by the other completely, winding up on opposite sides. "Let us try that again", Clopin suggested sheepishly.
"You can say that again", Sora called, scratching his hair, unsure if that had been done on purpose. Clopin repeated himself. While it would be hypocritical to ask the gypsy leader to not hold back, at heart it seemed he considered putting on a good show to be more paramount than truly testing the Keyblade Master. Putting aside his natural reluctance to attack a friend, he leapt at the jester with a strong vertical chop. Without bothering to engage the stronger blade, Clopin slid around behind Sora, bringing both daggers down only to be blocked above. Bending his knees with the pressure of landing, his opponent pushed off, knocking aside the daggers and spinning around to strike the man's chest with the flat side of the key.
Again unable to reliably deflect it, Clopin simply backed off with a speed that momentarily threw Sora, crossing out of the Keyblade's arc. Instead he drew it back across while charging, multiple advancing hay maker slashes that drove Clopin back towards the edge of the crowd. Without missing a beat, the jester vault backward onto a sudden footstep, the palms of two onlookers joined into one, using that to leap far higher than his opponent. Nimble little guy, Sora noted in partial amazement, and he's got the crowd on his side. All the same...!
He would not have let a real enemy escape with such a simple trick. Pitching his sword arm back, he hurled the Keyblade into the morning sun, and by association the leaping gypsy. The circle of light, key and clown became one for a brief moment, lost in a glare no squint could penetrate. Then there was only the sun left. Feeling the Keyblade rematerialize in his hand and a premonition in his heart, Sora ducked and rolled... a split second too late. He immediately felt cold steel raked across his back, and a grip of iron halting his forward momentum from behind.
"You know how it would go from here, monsieur Sora", he heard Clopin whispering into his ear with practiced ease, but with no pride in what he'd done. "A swift strike to the spine from behind, a gouge, a kidney shot, then evisceration... ah. Sorry. Wrong World. One down, then." With those threatening words he released the challenger from his grip, withdrawing to a safe distance and letting Sora get his breath back, suddenly immensely grateful that they were only playing.
Sora glanced around. Like he'd figured, many of the audience were cheering on the more familiar side, perhaps a bit too overeager to see the strange foreign boy humiliated further. Blocking out the jeers, Sora sized up his target, old combat senses that had been dulled by days of rest returning to life. He has to have some kind of duplication magic. Like Xemnas. Beyond that he has to stick to hitting and running, because the Keyblade is way stronger than his daggers. Stronger, and slower too. Have to find some way to get him to sit still...
"Alright", he breathed out. "Let's try this." Switching stances, he performed another one-handed charge, prompting the masked man to dance around to one side near where Quasimodo had been standing. Waiting until they were a mere eight feet apart, Sora ducked and rolled; the perfect invitation for his target to try another fast strike. Clopin did not come at him as quickly as he would have liked, but once they'd closed to within four feet it made no difference.
"Magnega!"
The gypsy leader recognized the spell but was too late to stop himself from getting caught in it. Suspended above the ground for all to see, it was child's play to tap him lightly with the Keyblade and let him crash to the ground on his butt once the magnetic force subsided. More than his first hit, he'd earned encouraging cheering from several spots, including Esmerelda, mounted on Quasi's shoulders now so she could see. "Nice one, Sora! Two more to go!"
Spurred on, he flashed a quick thumbs up. "Thanks. Well? Are you ready?"
This last bit he addressed to Clopin, who was slowly rising to his feet after his tumble. Far from annoyed, the man simply sprung back up and grinned. "Oui oui, a round of applause is due to our special guest, who could blend might and magic to free Notre Dame." Around the circle, Sora could make out the sound of coins changing hands and knew that wagers were quickly being placed on both combatnants. To their left, he saw Ramza wading into the crowd, his inner combat-veteran finally drawn. Before him, Clopin was regaining balance. Whatever idea Sora might have had that he had been demoralized by his use of that powerful spell vanished as fast as the clown's over-the-top graciousness. Both lunged.
For all others whom had slowly drifted towards the duel-slash-magic show happening in the square, the old man who arrived after the first two hits stood out. While no more the street beggar than many other passerby, the man made it clear in his stance he was more than a little drunk. Fat and jolly as Father Christmas, he dominated the bettors in the side of the crowd he was on, exchanging coins and credit parchment with impressive frequency when he was not trying to sidle up a bit closer to Esmerelda's chest. After one withering glare and a realization of how strong the hunchback was, he withdrew to a safe distance, and simply watched the duel continue.
Neither had landed a second hit yet; only some extremely close calls. The magician Clopin had learned his lesson not to be too caught up in following his dance partner, and Sora had come to recognize the fact that his opponent possessed either magic of a kind he'd never seen, or some fancy sleight-of-hand and dexterity that allowed him to stand on par with the Keyblade Master or the woman who had trained him. Twice he'd passed up an opportunity to strike Clopin he deemed too easy to be real, and twice the image of the deranged gypsy had turned into a cloud of flash powder seconds afterwards.
Finally, he'd had enough of the game of follow-and-wait. The crowd was getting antsy. They wanted to see something new. Landing from a jump and pivoting, Sora aimed the Keyblade and focused his will into a shocking chill as Merlin had shown him so long ago. "Blizzaga!"
At once Clopin's eye brows arched in casual dismissal- he'd seen the boy use that admittedly powerful ice spell before, but it was so painfully slow even hulking Quasimodo could dodge it with a little luck. Vaulting high, he drew both knives with feet spread wide to brace himself... And once again found himself lying down on the street with a sore behind, slipping on the sheet of ice the low-aimed spell had created on the ground. Without hesitation, Sora tapped him again with the Keyblade's flat end, and the crowd erupted.
"Tres bien", Clopin admitted before rolling away from the ice sheet and springing back to his feet, dropping several of his plush balls out of his sleeves by accident or design. "Even a gypsy can learn a new trick or two from you, monsieur Sora."
"I thought so", Sora replied merrily once he'd finished a stage bow to the fat man's side. "I knew you're too fast to get hit by that normally, and even Thunder wasn't guaranteed with how you move. So I improvi- What the...!"
He held up the Keyblade in shock, for it wasn't much of a Keyblade anymore. Touching the mighty weapon to Clopin's tunic had somehow allowed him to transform it into a weapon Sora had believed he would never see again- a wooden cross, a play-sword of the kind all the boys of the Destiny Islands had once revelled in mastering, imagining themselves all sorts of adventurers. He simply hadn't noticed the switch until then, but now he grimaced at the memories associated with that crude implement. "Very funny."
"I thought so", Clopin shot back in equal humour. There was nothing humorous however, about the way a pair of mighty shackles suddenly poofed into existence over the Keyblade master's feet, triggered by a snap of the fingers from Clopin. Immobilized, he could only watch and defend as the clown attacked with both his daggers. Gone was the merry dancing he'd put on at the start of the show, and in its place were quick, blurry lunges he couldn't help but recognize from Larxene. Like her, the clown did not appear to be taking steps, simply flying at an opponent with weapons ready.
All the same, the substance and length of his own weapon did not suddenly remove his two years of experience guarding against attacks from Heartless and more. Twenty times Clopin rushed the boy from every possible angle and twenty times the sound of wooden sword deflecting steel rang out. Clopin did not falter or stop the attacks, yet his voice remained clear and legible to everyone: "And yet, on the other hand... I have four fingers."
Sora cut his laugh short, but it was enough to make him flinch, enough for the gypsy leader to catch his wooden sword beneath the hilt and send it flying, and tap his throat with the flat end of the other dagger. "Deux."
Annoyed more with himself than Clopin, the boy scowled nonetheless. "H-hey, that wasn't fair! You can't tell jokes during a fight!"
The clown shrugged nonchalantly, walking over to fetch the wooden sword for Sora. "It is not Clopin's fault none of your enemies ever attempted such before, more's the pity." Returning the weapon, he locked eyes with its owner, still not releasing the shackles which held his legs. "But... Since this is your show, monsieur, Clopin will play along, boring as it may be."
Regaining his composure, Sora looked down. With all the efforts he'd made the chains had loosened, but to unlock them would take full concentration- something he could not afford, not with Clopin making ready from another lunge. The cheers and jeers of excited peasants rang in his ears, and closed both eyes to block out their faces along with other distractions. Fine. He wants to fight dirty? I'll show him dirty.
Blind but not beaten, he raised one leg with all strength, not breaking the shackle but kicking Clopin in the knees as he rushed in. Following up with the other leg convinced the gypsy to back off and take a different angle. From directly behind it would be impossible for the Keyblade master ot crane his neck around to see his opponent strike, but it did nothing to stop the sounds of jhodpured feet striking stone like gunfire, and now Clopin's daggers descended on the intervening shackles too late to stop in the middle of Sora's jump. "Knock knock, Clopin."
"Oui? Who is there?"
Pausing to consider, he opened both eyes and simply guarded against any follow-up strikes as he spoke. "Tank."
"Tank who?"
"You're welcome."
The clown did indeed flinch as hoped, but not enough to guarantee sucess. Have to make this clean. Four more deflected strikes later, Sora tried again: "What's the only thing in the World you can give and still keep?"
Dancing on air without caring so much for evasion now, Clopin struck again and again at the same time he answered. "Your word."
Backpedaling from another strike, he saw both daggers gleaming in the sunlight above, rolled to avoid the pounce. "I was thinking your Heart. A man walks into a bar. And says 'ouch'."
He'd done it. Clopin did not merely flinch, but fell over holding his side from laughter. Seeing this, however, was not his cue to rap the wooden sword against the man's chest. Instead of going for the obvious move, he reached up and pulled the gypsy's jaunty cap loose.
The crowd gasped. Again defying physics, Clopin's little blue cap contained the familiar metal bar of the Keyblade balanced atop his head like a water cistern. "Now", the gypsy leader commented once he'd recovered from the joke. "How did that get there, I wonder?"
As Sora had come to expect by now, the crowd erupted into cheering applause while they both bowed to signify the end of the 'show'. Bent over like this, he could still hear the clown's whisper: "Bravo,monsieur Sora."
Yet as the two opened their eyes as one, it was Sora who fell over at the sight before him. "Frollo?", he shouted in shock from the cobblestones. "How? I thought-"
No. It wasn't Frollo, just a near twin. Frollo was not nearly so fat, and looked a few years older than this man who now bent over to help him up. "Bienvenue, both of you", the man noted in an earthy rich tone. "Somehow I don't feel bad about losing money on a fight like that, though I'm sure my landlady'll feel differently. Don't suppose you could compensate an old fool, boy?"
Unsure of what to say to that, he was relived when Clopin pushed him aside to clap one arm around the man's shoulder and drop a few coins into his pocket discreetly enough that only Sora could see. "Ahh, brother Jehan. Clopin knew you'd come after the battle, though of course not too late to take bets on it. After costing you twice it's the least we can do."
Looking around, the Keyblade master saw Quasimodo looking equally stumped and was glad he wasn't the only one. "That's brother Jehan?", he prodded. "The guy everyone always teased Frollo about?"
"Oui", Clopin nodded. "As much his brother as a cracked mirror suspended on vices, but then a cracked mirror gives us no information, non?"
On cue, their new guest let out a tremendous belch that caused several onlookers to depart. "I am sorry I wasn't able to come sooner. Cursed bandits are making everyone nervous of hitchikers so I had to walk most of the way."
"Just as well you did not, brother", the gypsy leader sighed, glancing up at the still-visible damage to the bell tower. "For the past few days, Clopin was not alone in madness. Were it not for the monsieurs Sora, Ramza, and Quasimodo, we might have all gotten a head in weight loss."
"Truly?", the man glanced back, noticing Ramza and the hunchback for the first time. "And my brother?"
"Dead", Ramza provided, knowing how the gypsy would mince words. "Gone. Though I cannot demand my reward for it, since it was not I who dealt the final blow."
Jehan stumbled, a deliberate move no one familiar with him would be surprised by which hid his face from the rest for a few seconds. Recovered just as fast, he crossed himself. "There's no need for modesty, my boy. I knew dear Claude better than any living soul. For him, discipline was the only way of life. Always knew he'd someday get himself in too deep, and disregard the eyes of Notre Dame."
"I speak no modesty sir- Sora here finished him off, and good riddance."
At once tired of this game of manners, a still-adrenalized Sora raised his head, trying not to look directly back at Jehan. "Um, Clopin? The Grand gate? You remember the gate?"
Clopin smirked at his eagerness. "In time, monsieur. La Tonnsectere is not going anywhere just yet. Clopin asks that you wait one night. Tomorrow, after the festival of lights, we shall see what awaits in the dark below."
Jehan blinked. "Desole. Must have slipped my mind, but I'll be back in time to pick up a few ladies at least."
One day. Certainly Riku, Kairi and the others could wait one more day, couldn't they? The truth was he had no idea where they were, or if they were even together at all. That familiar hum in Sora's heart made it very clear that destroying the dark creature lurking in Notre Dame's sewers was the right decision, even if Clopin dragged it out longer still. "Fine. Where's Jehan going to be, anyway?"
Ramza shook his head and marched on past the crowd. "Claude Frollo's eulogy, of course. It's why he came in the first place." Following the portly man towards one of the city gates, he watched another beam being installed in the bell tower's ravaged framework. "He knew from the start of this that no matter what happened, either his brother or his friends would lie dead at the end of things, Sora. So let him be alone with his grief."
The Keyblade Master watched Jehan's form recede into the crowd until it was gone.
Delita Hyral had witnessed a great many castles in his life, but none so strange and obviously generated by sorcery as the death-white castle that occupied the heart of the abyss called "The World that Never Was". Asymmetrical and evidently lacking in any real floor plan, the place always struck an unfamiliar chord of fear within what remained of his heart which the catacombs of Notre Dame had but brushed- the fear of becoming lost. Thankfully, a familiar face awaited him when he stepped from a portal of darkness his special weapon had created, ready to lead him to the top of the central spire.
To be sure, Delita did not assume such of his guide, a fat, anthromorphized dog creature named Pete. His form suited his role for his master now, despite the intimidating new outfit he'd been granted since last they'd met. It spoke something of their mutual leader that she preferred a thug like him as a second-in-command to any number of dark-hearted beings who might have joined their enterprise- intelligence in suboordinates was only welcome when it served her purposes.
Just as well then, he mused as a pair of the massive Defender Heartless moved from guarding a large door to a marble stairwell. Our goals are similar, but not concurrent. Were I in Pete's shoes, it would be impossible to conceal my true reasons. Let the witch think what she wanted, assuming him another easily-led pawn such as the 'Riku' he'd heard them speak of. He knew the score, as did the pitiful Heartless now trailing behind them.
"In here, kid", Pete ordered glumly, pointing up a staircase that somehow only appeared when someone stepped on it, occasionally broken up by solid platforms floating in the air.
"What's wrong, pup?", he asked playfully. "Not getting much light these days?"
Pete grumbled something low but Delita did not press him further. Whatever his faults, he was too dimwitted to be of much concern. Leaving him, Delita ascended the stairs while trying not to look down. Two more massive armored Heartless he couldn't even identify guarded the door at the top, but like the Defenders these two stepped aside for him. Finally, at the very top of the spire, the black-robed witch Maleficent awaited him.
As usual, she struck her new servant as missing something. Certainly she remained incredibly powerful, more knowledgeable of the Keyblade and Heartless than he. A massive superiority complex fueled her every word and action, and for that Delita had often wondered what strange World might have spawned such evil. For all her strengths, she had never known love or companionship, all the wonderful feelings from a normal life that still resided in his memories, kept him warm at night. Because of that absence, he considered her incomplete. Whatever power had allowed her to raise this very castle from it's earlier destruction, an undiluted evil like hers always seemed a tad comical in hindsight. She seeks domination of the Worlds to satisfy her own ego, nothing more. But for now, I must stomach her megalomania.
Accordingly, he bowed with an over-the-top bow his leader would consider ordinary. "Mission accomplished, milady."
"So I surmised", Maleficent said with her back positioned invitingly towards him. A trap for would-be betrayers that was too obvious to catch him. "You took longer than expected."
"A thousand pardons. I wasn't sure which way to take it. Frollo's heart was dark, no question, but his fanatical pride and devotion to order would never let him obey us. Also, you might be interested to know that your old enemy showed up."
Turning, the witch stared at him hard. "The boy? Sora?"
"Indeed. Not that he hindered me at all." Thinking back to the strange boy, he motioned his passenger forward. "May I present... the Heartless of Judge Claude Frollo."
A hollow-looking robe of black and emerald, the new creature bore no physical similarities to the man it had been made from, sharing only the element he was most closely associated with. Whether Heartless or Nobody, a creature of darkness possessing the power to heal was passing rare, and would certainly be of use to Maleficent. She sized up the yellow-eyed being in satisfaction before dismissing it to join the army below. Thankfully, it followed without hesitation. Whatever will Frollo might have had to disobey resided in his other half.
"Well done", she finally confessed, waving one arm to generate a small number of the hanging green flames that were her calling card. "Yet while you were gone, I was able to locate two more powerful beings of evil hearts that might serve our purposes. I shall grant you the choice of which to take first, but I desire both of their Heartless."
Only two?, he asked himself. Pay my World a visit, witch, and you'll find a thousand aristocrats with hearts blacker than soot. "Go on."
On cue, the leftmost flame erupted into a colorful image of a thin, dark-skinned man who shared Maleficent's fashion sense in spirit if not in form- a snazzy black suit and absurdly tall hat compensated for the comical buck-teeth in his affectionate-seeming smile.
"Now here is a man of charm and grace", Maleficent explained as they spied on the tall man. "He lives in a World of superstition and aristrocracy, much like your own."
"Swell", he muttered. She actually sounded impressed by this tall shadow man. "Are you going to marry him or what?"
She scoffed. "Don't be a fool. His magic, though different from mine, is still very potent. Even better, he is currently leashed to a collection of shadow spirits who hold his very soul in escrow. Control that, and you control him."
With the first target done, the second flame repeated the same performance, displaying a creature who, despite wearing bipedal garb, could not possibly be human. A strange, broad hat encrusted with fungal colonies framed a bulging visage of sickly yellow flesh, decorated by dozens of tentacles and a wrathful scowl that actually made Delita take a step back.
"This one has also indirectly put his life into our hands prematurely", Maleficent continued. "Upon the vast and treacherous oceans of his World, he is feared by all who sail it as the undertaker of the seven seas, having surpassed his human origin, literally placing his own heart into a treasure chest before burying it on a forgotten island." She grinned wickedly. "Find that chest, boy, and he is ours forever."
Delita sighed. Even Pete could see the pattern here. "Holy power. Shadow power. Sea power... And now you're reaching out to your old friend Hades for 'Fire'. You're looking for access to magicks different from your own, specific to each World, combining them... into what? Why?"
Maleficent seemed to have stolen the tentacled sea reaper's scowl. She preferred her servants strong and dumb, not introspective. "That is none of your concern, boy, particularly if you ever wish to see your dear sister again. Now choose."
The low blow made Delita's teeth grind, but he dared not push the witch further. It didn't really matter now, did it? "Alright, alright. I'll think it over." Nonthreateningly, he raised his sword curiously. "In the meantime, this thing left something to be desired. Think you could take another look?"
He hadn't expected much assistance, and was not surprised. "Imbecilic human. It's not what's wrong with that blade I fashioned, it's what's wrong with you. Combined with the proper heart, that weapon should surpass the 'Oblivion', at least." For a moment, her pride with the instrument of darkness in his hand seemed less overblown and closer to home, making her seem almost grandmotherly. " 'Dischordium' is my finest work yet, after years of dealing with Keyblade-users, learning of their weapons. It accomplished what you set out to do, did it not?"
Exasperated, he turned to face the massive cluster of somber buildings spread below them. Those streets teemed with Heartless. "I suppose it did. I'll take five, then. Remember our arrangement."
"Don't be too long", she reminded once his foot touched the first step down. "If the Keyblade Master truly is back on the move, it's only a matter of time before he gets word of our efforts."
Stopping, he chuckled. Any opportunity to ridicule this pompous witch. "Why so scared, Maleficent? Didn't you say you've dealt with Keyblade-users far more experienced than him?"
"Different ones", she considered, palming a sharp-pointed chin but smiling confidently. "Not necessarily superior. Something about that child reminds me... Well. Never mind about that. Regardless of his name, soul, or age, with these new allies the Keyblade Master will at last fall before us, and then all the Worlds shall be mine for the taking."
Delita Hyral smiled too, already out of sight and out of mind. I don't think so, witch.
A passerby could never know for sure, but the festival of lights seemed subdued compared to the reckless joviality Notre Dame's people had demonstrated only weeks before. There were plenty of reasons for that of course, but overall it seemed less a celebration than a moment taken by those in command to clear the air between them and the regular townsfolk. Simple briar lamps and streamers were arranged about the square, where the last of the wounded had been treated and released just in time. Many couples joined in a more cordial waltz, while those without gathered around the pavillion at the back to regale the rest with tales of what they'd been doing during the days of burning buildings and crazed soldiers. Most everyone knew the names Sora and Quasimodo.
Leaning against the pavillion out of sight, Ramza Beoluve did not mind being the lesser legend here, for it appeared as though Sora was equally unused to people cheering and slapping him on the back. It was enough to watch the results of their work, where Clopin and the new captain of the guard had already arranged a public statement once everyone had taken some time to relax.
"Sir Beoluve?"
Startled, he looked down. The girl was familiar despite being of Notre Dame. Who...?
Ah. Yes. The maid they'd saved from the burning inn on the first night, bruised and tarnished but successfully survived a period of rampant destruction. She looked well. "And just how may I help you, young lady?"
The maid looked frightened "I-I-I... S-someone asked me to ask you... to come to the cathedral rooftop."
With more self-confident messenger he might have asked for details, but he was sure she didn't know much more than he did. Kneeling down, he rumpled her hair playfully. "I hope whoever sent you rewarded you appropriately for this service."
Ever timid, she brought out a dozen coins from her apron pocket. "Y-yes sir."
"Good. You run along now. Find someone to dance with." Who would call him away at this hour? He could not expect payment for services rendered. At least, not in monetary form, he dared hope as he strode through the frame which once held the great wooden doors of Notre Dame cathedral. One of these still hung off to the side, suspended by the few hinges which had survived the battle.
Up past the more heavily-destroyed portions of ancient architecture, he saw the gypsy Esmerelda watching the dance from the first walkway, legs dangling off the rail. "Not a big social person", she noted wryly the moment he'd come within sight. "Are you, Mister Beoluve?"
Surprised, he walked up and leaned on the rail next to her. "I should be asking the same of you, lady Esmerelda. I would assume your patrons to be in a more generous mood towards your people as of late. Why pass up those coins, after giving your messenger so many?"
She chuckled. "I'll live a few days more without income. Our way is not to ask the hospitality or the charity of any one group for long. I'm sure Quasi would let me stay and eat up here forever if I asked... But even if I felt like being cooped up in the tower, that would be taking advantage of him. As for the girl, she lost her job. At least I can dance for coins or crash at a friend's, but she has no one to turn to." Turning, she smiled brightly. "Those given charity pass on their fortune, if they are wise. Sharing the wealth is the only way a great deal of our people survive... And I'm not talking about gypsies."
"Truly", he nodded, sensing truth in her words. That was how many cities in his own World lived on even while their rulers expended colossal fortunes on war. These people had not yet been driven to the brink that had caused a major revolution in his home, though the surge of rue that had made them fight Frollo was close. "My turn, then. Yes. I cannot feel too comfortable around so many. That was true before I touched a sword, but as I told sir Sora, a warrior cannot ever feel truly at ease."
"Funny you should mention him", she noted, looking down to see Sora finally partaking in some well-needed irresponsibility below. "He doesn't seem to have that problem."
"He's young. Give him time. Besides, his heart waits for another."
From the way her black brows rose, he could tell she hadn't heard anything about Kairi. "Huh. She's a lucky girl, to have someone like that. Even if they're too young to understand what it means."
Sigh. Ramza could see where this was going. More than one woman had been infatuated with him in his travels, usually several years older than he. "Then rejoice, lady Esmerelda, for you have one as well. I have no doubt that the Hunchback would lay down his life to see you safe. You did not see, but it was he who started the counterattack against Frollo. He swung down, and saved you from the fire."
Message recieved, but she did not seem to wish to listen, staring balefully up at the tower Quasimodo had called home for twenty years. "I should, shouldn't I... But no. It feels wrong."
"Wrong?", he challenged. He'd never formed much of a rapport with the Hunchback himself in their time together, but felt he owed Quasimodo an eloquent attempt to sway his love, at least. "You were the one who brought him out from behind the veil of lies. You were the one who saw the good in him, even when he could not see it in himself. What is wrong with having him as more than a friend?"
She thought for a moment, then pointed at Sora. "That's what's wrong. If Sora is a child in body and heart, then Quasimodo's a child in his mind. Twenty years in that bell tower is not the same as living twenty years in the city, among people. I know he's dedicated to me, more than any adult ever should be. That's the problem, see. It always feels like I'm taking advantage of his trust. I'm not that kind of woman." Blinking back tears, she smiled bravely at him. "He's young. I'll give him time. After all, my heart isn't taken yet."
He digested that in silence, immediately pitying the bellringer's naive soul. Gods knew love could be the most wondrous thing in the world as much as the most destructive. "I... understand. I just hope that he does."
"And what about your heart, sir Beoluve?" Carefully, she clasped both arms over his shoulders, regarding him intently. He could feel the power in that wonderfully warm, green gaze, alluring but not sinister or desperate. "I know it's not money that really brought you here. You would have tried to get more than what Clopin gave you if it was, and you're far too kind for a mercenary"
Thinking back to the real mercenaries he'd met over the years, he silently agreed. All he'd said about his difficulties with people rang true in his head, but even the most cuthroat barbarian would be affected by this. Ramza drew closer, whispering. "A long-lost heart, not passionate love but familial. My sister, Alma, is missing, and no man in my World knows her whereabouts. That, my lady, is my true goal."
Her face fell. "Then you'll be leaving soon, right? Back on the road with Sora, to find her?"
"After we slay the beast in the sewers, yes. But we- I- will always remember you and your home. Like you, my heart is not taken."
Eyes closed, she gazed downwards before shooting back up with new energy. "Good. Then there's no way this can hurt Quasimodo."
Before whatever meager resistance he had left could protest, she came forward, pulling closer until their lips locked together as if meant to be that way. The sound of firecrackers woke them from it, though neither could say how long their bodies had been pressing against one another. "Take care, then", she said after finding her breath again. "I'll always remember you, too."
Please pretend
You will understand in time
I can only hope I can understand in time
What we shared was a dream, and nothing more
M: Can't say I'm thrilled with all my page breakers suddenly disappearing due to a format change, but hopefully these new ones will stick around. It's been a few months since last update but hopefully I can finish the last few chapters sooner. Depending on feedback I may or may not expand on the threads hinted at in this chapter, so let me know what you think.
