Leviathan's Daughter
GoldenEagle
Author's note: Nothing much really happens in this chapter but a deeper view into the charectors as I try to build some realistic and strong ties between Persephone and Folken.
Chapter Seven
Persephone cursed herself as her ankle twisted beneath her, another failed lunge in her training of the blades. She tried to pretend it was all simple stress, her transfer to Zaibach's base for training only a couple of week away, but she knew it was a lie. She rubbed her tender ankle, cursing her own distractions. Of course, others had noticed her lack of concentration recently, also. And they knew just as well as she did, though she denied herself the thought, that her mistakes were because of the boy. The prince.
When that thought came to mind, she growled with pride and would go through her exercises viciously, rendering herself so tired that all she could do was sleep for hours when she was done. All she really did was eat a small breakfast, train, and sleep, avoiding Folken as much as possible. The physical results of this stress were showing, too, as the lack of nutrition, healthy sleep, and plain self management warped her body beyond shape. Beyond health.
She was nothing more than malnutritioned muscle and bone. And on this day, as Persephone came crashing to her knees in the middle of the empty training center, her body braking down, she was forced to fess up to the facts:
She had drawn too close, too fast, to this prince.
It was not as one person may think. It was not a love that she felt for Folken, nor a hate, nor any true feeling at all. That is, besides the obligation. The responsibility. And the guilt of watching the lively boy she had meant to save being slowly transformed into what she was now. A soulless body, emotional walls built from here to the sky. A cold mind. A merciless soul. And a dead heart.
Plus, Folken's very personality was too much a reminder of what few good qualities she had once had and what traits she could have had. It royally pissed Persephone off in a way, rendered such a weakling by Folken. In the end, she realized she could no longer draw back from the soul drifting inside the prince. She had to delve forward and somehow find a piece of her past she had once lost. A piece she had never remembered feeling. Her unstable life was not truly brought on by Folken, but by her own guilt.
*********
Folken walked into his room, throwing off the heavy leather trench coat he had been wearing onto the floor. "Fire." He said plainly, and a small fire lept up in what was much like a fireplace, casting flickering light through only a few shadows in the dark room. Folken ripped off his shirt, glad to get rid of the itchy material when he sensed her, right behind him.
His instinct of her presence was correct and he felt strangely cornered as she sat on a small couch in the shadows, the light of the fire flickering over her motionless body and reflecting violently in her eyes. It had been a long time since Folken had spoken to his savior. Or, be it better put, it had been a long while since she had spoken to him. "How are you doing, Folken Fanel?" Her voice was quiet and a strange feeling hit him, like he had missed something. He searched his mind, but could find nothing, but then he searched her voice. A strange wave of wonder hit him as he recognized the broken tone that had crept into her voice. Though it was a small tone, it rang loud and clear in the dark room.
"I am doing well." He lied. He physically grimaced as the words came out, somehow knowing that she would see past the lie. See that-
"You miss Fanalia." She said plainly, completing his thoughts. He looked away from her, and all Persephone could see was his strong muscled back, silhouetted in the fire light. She sighed quietly, trying to get past a barrier, try to open up to herself. She searched for the same emotion in her, the homesickness he must have felt, but there were few things on earth she enjoyed. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what brought her comfort... What familiar things brought her peace... Her eyes snapped open as she smiled sadly, all the good things in her life, though few they were, rushing back to her. "I miss the sound of the train on the tracks not far from the Home, its whistle would wake me at unthinkable times in the early morning, and yet, on some nights, I'd just lay there, staring up at the ceiling as it puffed past." Persephone's eyes grew distant and Folken turned to look at her, confused by her words, by what they meant. "I miss the way the other girls would snore at night, an annoying little remembrance, really. But it happened every night. It was a sure thing. A familiar thing. There were also the birds which nested in the trees right outside my window. They'd come back, year after year, each new generation." She couldn't stop the smile from going slightly sour on her as self pity washed over her. "And I miss there only being one moon, I miss the familiar figures in the stars. Scorpio, Draco, the Big Dipper..."
Folken had long ago realized what she was talking about, where she was talking about. He stared at her with a new respect, the girl from the Mystic Moon. Folken's memories rushed out before he could stop them, his sould desperately reaching out to someone who could relate. "I miss the way it would get so hot in the town square that people would all just hide in the shadows, talking and gossiping until it was cool enough to move around. I miss the way the air smelled. Smells from all over Gaea." Folken locked his jaw before going on, the rest harder for him. "I miss the way Van used to tug at me, always wanting to go where I went. Always wanting to be me."
"Van?" Persephone asked, wanting to go on and talk about his family so she could imagine it as if it were her own. As if it had been her joy, her family.
Folken smiled distantly. "My little brother. Van." A short pause followed before he continued. "And I miss the way my mom would give us that look when we were in trouble, or had almost got hurt, and she wasn't quite sure if to be sad, angry, or just plain happy. You know the look." He said, smiling down at Persephone from where she lay. The fire had grown larger, revealing her face.
She frowned slightly, her face becoming restless. "No, Folken. I don't." Folken blinked slowly, stunned. "I never had a mother, not since back before I could remember." But then she smiled up at him, a warm smile. A smile out of place on her. "But tell me what it looked like. What it looked like when your mother looked at you in such a way."
Folken stood, dumbfounded, before he took a seat next to Persephone, she having to draw her legs up so he would have room. He squinted his eyes at the flames, trying to remember just how she looked, his mother, when she gave that look. "It was always after we got in trouble." He said slow, thoughtfully. "I mean, big trouble, as Van and I often did." He smiled a small smile at the memory, but Persephone could see it reach his eyes as they misted over with memory. "She'd always put her hands on her hips, her face betraying a false vision of anger, but then the tears would flow. They fell in just a way to make both Van or I horribly sorry for doing such a dangerous thing. And then she would draw us close, a smile on her face as she whispered how glad she was that we were okay, and her eyes would fill with... with..." Folken looked back on it, looking for the word that would best describe what he had seen.
"With what?" Persephone whispered, transfixed by the image of a woman looking down at her as she stared into the fire. But the eyes were blank. She needed to know what was in the eyes...
"With love." He said slowly, glancing over at her. She closed her eyes and squinted, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't fill in the gap. She couldn't fill that look in. She realized with a sudden pang as the vision of a mother, a mother she wanted so badly to be hers, slipped away, that she had no idea what that gaze would look like. She shuddered, the ice around her heart that had melted momentarily going back up. Folken could see the hardening over her face and eyes and his heart sank as he realized she was the woman again. The woman who he could do nothing but fear. Yet, inside, a piece of Persephone was broken, a part of her missing as she realized the truth.
She didn't know what love looked like.
GoldenEagle
Author's note: Nothing much really happens in this chapter but a deeper view into the charectors as I try to build some realistic and strong ties between Persephone and Folken.
Chapter Seven
Persephone cursed herself as her ankle twisted beneath her, another failed lunge in her training of the blades. She tried to pretend it was all simple stress, her transfer to Zaibach's base for training only a couple of week away, but she knew it was a lie. She rubbed her tender ankle, cursing her own distractions. Of course, others had noticed her lack of concentration recently, also. And they knew just as well as she did, though she denied herself the thought, that her mistakes were because of the boy. The prince.
When that thought came to mind, she growled with pride and would go through her exercises viciously, rendering herself so tired that all she could do was sleep for hours when she was done. All she really did was eat a small breakfast, train, and sleep, avoiding Folken as much as possible. The physical results of this stress were showing, too, as the lack of nutrition, healthy sleep, and plain self management warped her body beyond shape. Beyond health.
She was nothing more than malnutritioned muscle and bone. And on this day, as Persephone came crashing to her knees in the middle of the empty training center, her body braking down, she was forced to fess up to the facts:
She had drawn too close, too fast, to this prince.
It was not as one person may think. It was not a love that she felt for Folken, nor a hate, nor any true feeling at all. That is, besides the obligation. The responsibility. And the guilt of watching the lively boy she had meant to save being slowly transformed into what she was now. A soulless body, emotional walls built from here to the sky. A cold mind. A merciless soul. And a dead heart.
Plus, Folken's very personality was too much a reminder of what few good qualities she had once had and what traits she could have had. It royally pissed Persephone off in a way, rendered such a weakling by Folken. In the end, she realized she could no longer draw back from the soul drifting inside the prince. She had to delve forward and somehow find a piece of her past she had once lost. A piece she had never remembered feeling. Her unstable life was not truly brought on by Folken, but by her own guilt.
*********
Folken walked into his room, throwing off the heavy leather trench coat he had been wearing onto the floor. "Fire." He said plainly, and a small fire lept up in what was much like a fireplace, casting flickering light through only a few shadows in the dark room. Folken ripped off his shirt, glad to get rid of the itchy material when he sensed her, right behind him.
His instinct of her presence was correct and he felt strangely cornered as she sat on a small couch in the shadows, the light of the fire flickering over her motionless body and reflecting violently in her eyes. It had been a long time since Folken had spoken to his savior. Or, be it better put, it had been a long while since she had spoken to him. "How are you doing, Folken Fanel?" Her voice was quiet and a strange feeling hit him, like he had missed something. He searched his mind, but could find nothing, but then he searched her voice. A strange wave of wonder hit him as he recognized the broken tone that had crept into her voice. Though it was a small tone, it rang loud and clear in the dark room.
"I am doing well." He lied. He physically grimaced as the words came out, somehow knowing that she would see past the lie. See that-
"You miss Fanalia." She said plainly, completing his thoughts. He looked away from her, and all Persephone could see was his strong muscled back, silhouetted in the fire light. She sighed quietly, trying to get past a barrier, try to open up to herself. She searched for the same emotion in her, the homesickness he must have felt, but there were few things on earth she enjoyed. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what brought her comfort... What familiar things brought her peace... Her eyes snapped open as she smiled sadly, all the good things in her life, though few they were, rushing back to her. "I miss the sound of the train on the tracks not far from the Home, its whistle would wake me at unthinkable times in the early morning, and yet, on some nights, I'd just lay there, staring up at the ceiling as it puffed past." Persephone's eyes grew distant and Folken turned to look at her, confused by her words, by what they meant. "I miss the way the other girls would snore at night, an annoying little remembrance, really. But it happened every night. It was a sure thing. A familiar thing. There were also the birds which nested in the trees right outside my window. They'd come back, year after year, each new generation." She couldn't stop the smile from going slightly sour on her as self pity washed over her. "And I miss there only being one moon, I miss the familiar figures in the stars. Scorpio, Draco, the Big Dipper..."
Folken had long ago realized what she was talking about, where she was talking about. He stared at her with a new respect, the girl from the Mystic Moon. Folken's memories rushed out before he could stop them, his sould desperately reaching out to someone who could relate. "I miss the way it would get so hot in the town square that people would all just hide in the shadows, talking and gossiping until it was cool enough to move around. I miss the way the air smelled. Smells from all over Gaea." Folken locked his jaw before going on, the rest harder for him. "I miss the way Van used to tug at me, always wanting to go where I went. Always wanting to be me."
"Van?" Persephone asked, wanting to go on and talk about his family so she could imagine it as if it were her own. As if it had been her joy, her family.
Folken smiled distantly. "My little brother. Van." A short pause followed before he continued. "And I miss the way my mom would give us that look when we were in trouble, or had almost got hurt, and she wasn't quite sure if to be sad, angry, or just plain happy. You know the look." He said, smiling down at Persephone from where she lay. The fire had grown larger, revealing her face.
She frowned slightly, her face becoming restless. "No, Folken. I don't." Folken blinked slowly, stunned. "I never had a mother, not since back before I could remember." But then she smiled up at him, a warm smile. A smile out of place on her. "But tell me what it looked like. What it looked like when your mother looked at you in such a way."
Folken stood, dumbfounded, before he took a seat next to Persephone, she having to draw her legs up so he would have room. He squinted his eyes at the flames, trying to remember just how she looked, his mother, when she gave that look. "It was always after we got in trouble." He said slow, thoughtfully. "I mean, big trouble, as Van and I often did." He smiled a small smile at the memory, but Persephone could see it reach his eyes as they misted over with memory. "She'd always put her hands on her hips, her face betraying a false vision of anger, but then the tears would flow. They fell in just a way to make both Van or I horribly sorry for doing such a dangerous thing. And then she would draw us close, a smile on her face as she whispered how glad she was that we were okay, and her eyes would fill with... with..." Folken looked back on it, looking for the word that would best describe what he had seen.
"With what?" Persephone whispered, transfixed by the image of a woman looking down at her as she stared into the fire. But the eyes were blank. She needed to know what was in the eyes...
"With love." He said slowly, glancing over at her. She closed her eyes and squinted, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't fill in the gap. She couldn't fill that look in. She realized with a sudden pang as the vision of a mother, a mother she wanted so badly to be hers, slipped away, that she had no idea what that gaze would look like. She shuddered, the ice around her heart that had melted momentarily going back up. Folken could see the hardening over her face and eyes and his heart sank as he realized she was the woman again. The woman who he could do nothing but fear. Yet, inside, a piece of Persephone was broken, a part of her missing as she realized the truth.
She didn't know what love looked like.