Waiting for Death
The sharp edge of the hill rose upwards towards the skies, its lush green slope saturated with the incessant winter rains. It made an uneasy footing, yet the woman who stood on the jagged tip maintained her poise with the firm confidence of a trained soldier. One gloved hand rested on the bronze hilt of her sword and the other, its fingers clenched, dug into her waist in what seemed an almost frantic impatience. Yet her gray eyes were clear and guarded, and not a muscle in her delicate face moved as she watched the glorious prospect of rolling hills and lavish green meadows that spread at a great distance below her feet. A flowing train of liquid clouds spilled across the soft, luxurious vision of the dark blue skies, and the chill that pervaded the air was unrelieved by the sun, whose lustrous brightness almost hurt the eyes. The scintillating rays played across the dark copper strands of the woman's hair, setting them aflame.
Standing within that beautiful vision of turmoil, Miluda experienced a haunting sense of melancholy, like a shadow that rose from amid the flowing atmosphere of the hills and stole upon her with its soft, mesmerizing presence. There was something almost surrealistic in her surroundings, something that the devout would describe as a vision of heaven, yet which Miluda could only describe as a light that broke from a world which was not her own and descended upon her for a moment, soothing the fear that coursed through her veins like the darkest fire; the fear that she will die. It seemed like a day which invited death; something in its liquid, perfect beauty was almost threatening.
Her gloved hand clenched upon the hilt of her sword, as thoughts swirled in her mind. There is no end to the sadness, she thought, no end to the blood and the death. And yet, she pleaded wordlessly to some unknown force, if I must die, please let it not be today, just before the revolution. Please let me participate in it, and give my life and my death FOR it, not die here, weak and useless. Please... God.
I will not make it easy for them. Even if I MUST die, even if I have no choice, I will take them with me. Let them taste the bitter edge of death, the one that was so close to my own flesh so many times.
She looked towards the haunting blue skies that covered the world with their soft, liquid embrace, trying to sense if something was listening to her hidden prayer. But all she could perceive was an endless beauty that harbored the same eerie sense of doom that haunted her own mind.
God... God... God... listen to me, even if I am your lowly daughter, whose people are condemned to hunger after serving the nobility, who feast in their mansions full of warmth and light. Listen to me, even if I disdained to pray to you ever since I realized there was no justice for people like me in this world, and that the only justice is for the rich who write the laws and make us bend before them until we break. They say that in your world everyone are equal. They say that even the sinner will be forgiven if he repents. Listen to me, God. I don't want to die today. I want to participate in the revolution, to see it surging up and flooding the corruption with a cleansing force. I want justice, God. Nothing else. Only justice.
She felt her throat clogging as the hidden plea seethed in her, a secret voice crying, unable to break out.
I will not cry.
The uncaring skies swirled above her head with mesmerizing slowness, their beauty like something out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare. God, God, her lips whispered. Did you listen to my prayer? I want to repent. I want to abolish the bitterness. I want justice, God. I will repent. Just don't make it my last day, don't let me die here, useless.
All I want is to stop that misery. I want to stop the hunger, the undeserved pain, the injustice. I will repent, God. Just help me for once, and show me the truth of their words.
She looked up at the depthless canopy of blue and closed her eyes, trying to absorb whatever warmth was left in the sun. But she felt none.
I... will... not... cry.
Slowly, the skies gathered their soft clouds and rain began to fall.
© Written by Hadas Rose
Final Fantasy Tactics is © Square, 1998.
Comment: The tune that set the mood to this piece is "In Pursuit", that first occurs in the battle in which Miluda dies. I really, really love that tune; it's so tragic, and I love these kind of moody pieces.