-GoldenEagle
Author's Notes:Bah, yes, I know. Late, as usual. Again, I stress that Playing God is kind of at a stand still at the moment. Forgive. I was so hyped about this installment that I got it all written for you peeps (special thanks to Zibbelcoot for lying about how much she liked it j/k). Well, here it is. Hopefully the next part will be out soon. Oh, and go and start reading my Leon Pogroms. I plan on working on that more tonight, and I think people will like it once it gets started. (Plus, noone's reviewed it and I'm lonely... *snifflesniffle*) Oh, and go over to Zibbelcoot's site and watch her Van/Hitomi music video! It's NIFFTY!!! (which is the highest rating, in my book). I'd give you the link, but, I'm too lazy and stupid. Just go to it through her profile page.
Last time... Evan and Evadne attacked, and Evan's obviously injured. How badly, though? Chapter Nine
Evadne had lost her mind. That was the simplest way of putting it, throwing her into some sort of insanity that was much too deep and dark to comprehend. There was the moment where hands were tightly holding her, that animal scream echoing from Evan, and then there came a mad blur of movements, of moments that were lost to Evadne Schezar's mind. When she woke from her stupor, she was bent over, her fingers pushed firmly against the ground, her legs bent, leaning forward. Her breath was leaving her in short gasps and the world seemed far too bright. The group of men seemed to be retreating, leaving in a flurry on their horses. She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing, trying to remember... Somehow she knew that when she looked around her, three of the men would be lying dead on the ground. Her fists hurt, her body was quivering in the wake of her adrenaline, and there was a very distinct, stabbing pain behind her eyes that throbbed powerfully. And when she opened her eyes, she found she was right about the three men and that her fists hurt because they were bruised and bleeding from a fight. As for her headache, it lessened even as everything else became horribly clear and her quivering turned into small shivering convulsions of fear. She was so taken by her shivering that it took her a while to stand up and back away from the body that had been lying beneath her. It was the leader that had been holding her, his neck turned at an awkward angle, his body sprawled out on the cold stones of the street.
Again her eyes closed, more slowly this time, her pupils rolling back into her head as she let out a sick moan and then bowed over, vomiting. What had happened? Why couldn't she remember? A pulsing in her temples, a voice in her head-
"No."
Her voice, breaking through the quiet, breaking through the voice in her head, silencing it. No more of this voice, of this insanity. You let it slip, that's all. It escaped for a moment. Never again. Ignore it. Never again. Her own mental voice smoothed her, perhaps she had even said it out loud. She moaned. Again and again and again- no, not her. Those eyes opened again and she silenced herself, her panicked breathing. Yes, there. A wail, almost, a groan, a cry.
"Evan?" Her voice was quiet, calm despite her own impressions and fears. She took a shaky step forward, towards the fallen horse. Another step and she paused, waiting for any sign that he had heard her.
And it came, quietly, like the sound of a breeze through the top of the trees. "Eva-va... Vadne..." Her name was broken but clear and she sprinted the rest of the way to where she could see his legs, his left leg stirring as if on its own accord, jerking against the blood soaked soil.
"Evan!" Her voice was louder this time, startling even her. She walked the last few feet to where she could see him and she froze. He was bleeding. Alive, yes, but bleeding horribly from... From where? Her eyes narrowed as she searched for where the crimson liquid was coming. So, so, so much blood. That pain started growing behind her eyes again and her vision blurred a bit. She had to be strong. Remind herself that she was strong. She was a Schezar. She had to be strong.
She leant over him, half falling on her knees as she looked him over. His eyes were closed and the crimson pool had reached up to his hair, clinging to it. His jaw was very tense, a bit of blood leaking from his mouth. A jolt of panic whipped through Evadne. "Evan, where were you hit? Where?" Despite her overwhelming awareness that she was shaking and that a horrible pain was still building behind her sight, almost blinding her, she somehow kept her voice clean and calm.
His hand reached out, grasped her arm sharply. She started slightly, surprised by the sudden touch. "Eva-vadne..." He moaned loudly. "Oh, gods... gods... They hit my leg... Oooh, no, no, no. Not my legs, Evadne. Not my legs... I'd rather die without my legs... the fight... Catylin..." His voice seemed to die out on him. Evadne felt a cold ball settle in her stomach as she reached out her hand and touched his forehead gently. She then looked down to his leg... The right leg, she could see now. And beyond the blood, she could see it was almost completely severed. It made her want to cry out, want to double over with the sick waves washing through her system. She did neither. She sat straight. She refused to cry.
"Evan, listen to me. You've lost a lot of blood. I've got to get you out of here."
"No, no, no, no... Leave me. Please, Evadne. Leave me." His eyes opened then and focused on her. His look of desperate bitterness was wiped out immediately as he gazed up at her, focused on her eyes. The stare was so intense that Evadne could feel a blush rise in her pale cheeks and she lowered her head. The pain behind her eyes increased and she thought she may just rip out those blue green orbs for good.
"Quit looking at me like that." She whispered. It was deeply unsettling her. The pangs increased.
He was still staring at her when she glanced up shyly. But there was some strange fear in his eyes now. "Your eyes..." He muttered. His gaze started to falter, his eyes trying to close without his permission. "Blood and water..." and he was gone.
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"Mumma! Someone's coming!" A petite yet willowy figure stood at the edge of the small clearing, her form straight and stiff as she watched the silhouette of two riders on one horse come slowly through a narrow forest trail to what was the beginnings of their camp. Several people heeded her cry and came running, weary and stumbling, dull and blood covered swords in their hands. It was about then that the figures entered through into the opening. The people who had come running were suddenly at attention. On the horse sat a boy, slumped over, his face deathly pale. Small streams of blood ran down the horse's flanks and sides. It also gave off a sour smell. He was unconscious, but suddenly seemed to stir. No, not him, but a hunched figure behind him which slid from the horse to the ground tiredly before pulling the boy off with her. The guards started to pull forward, ready to ask questions and make assumptions, but the mousy haired girl who had first called out moved forward first, staring intently at the tall girl before her. The girl with pale skin (grey with cold and weariness at the moment, actually) and silver hair.
"Evadne?" The girl piped up, barely recognizing her friend in her odd attire and muffed up form.
The girl gazed at her tiredly, a familiar pale blue/green gaze meeting the brown eyes of the other girl. A look of relief flowed over Evadne's features as she recognized the figure, however underdressed she was compared to the dress she had worn only days before. "Care, you must help me." I mustn't cry. Not now.
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He was cursing at her, screaming that he hated her. Sobbing and sobbing and screaming and cursing. Evadne acted as if she didn't notice his words as he gripped her hand tightly, surely coming close to breaking those bones, even as he yelled at her that he despised her, yelled at her that she should have killed him. Her gaze was calm, comforting. She continually repeated above his screams, "It's all right. It'll be over soon." He couldn't hear her. The repetitiveness of the words were for her comfort alone. She refused to cry.
And when it was all over, when Evan had long ago passed out from the pain and the humiliation of the amputation, Evadne left the tent. The Asturian refugees threw cautious glances at the opening she had just come from, all a result from hearing those screams. She walked away, ignoring even Care when she called out to her. She walked until she was back in the forest, where it wasn't considered safe to wander, not after such a horrible act in the capital, Palas. There she stopped, looked up to the clouds...
And she cried.
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"Evan?" Evadne's voice was quiet, her eyes dark and without their usual light. She ran long fingers across his cool forehead. He opened his eyes slowly, looking up at her. Such despair he carried, tears coming so fast that she wasn't sure quite when they really started. She could only count them, turning them into numbers instead of acknowledging what they really stood for. The soldier was broken. He closed his eyes before he began to talk.
"Please..." He croaked. "Please tell me it was all a nightmare. Tell me that I still have them both, that I'll walk again, that they didn't-"
"Evan..." her voice was pleading, pathetically pained. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Look, you can still go on. Maybe not in the army, but there are plenty of jobs, even for those who've..." She hesitated, choked on her words. "Who have lost a limb."
He let out a loud cry but brought his hand to his lips. "I shouldn't cry... Cat would be so disappointed... But you don't understand. Without my position in the army, I can't marry her. I can't. And why would she want me? A cripple-"
Evadne's eyes had narrowed on him. "If she loves you, she'll stay with you, no matter what. But what are you talking about with the whole 'can't marry her'?"
He opened his eyes again, staring at her and yet beyond her at the same time. "The Palas Treaty..."
Evadne's heart sank. She hadn't thought of the Treaty in years. And there were so many more important things at the time when she had learned of it than what was before her. Yet it was all too painfully clear. The Palas Treaty was a treaty set forth to punish and hinder Zaibach after the war. There were all sorts of points to it, like not bringing any military into the Southern borders of Zaibach, and several payments of money to Asturia, Freid, and Fanalia to pay for war damages. It was a rather unfair treaty, but now it seemed even more so. Because one of the points spoke of the memberships of the Zaibachs and the rest of the Gaean countries. No one could marry a Zaibach unless they were already one, and the only way an Asturian or Freidan or Fanalian could become part of Zaibach was if they joined a branch of the Zaibach government. Hence, Evan could not marry his beloved Cat unless he joined the army, which was impossible now. The world spun around Evadne. All faith in the phrase "good conquers all" seemed to dim and battle within her.
Evan was floating off again, forgetting himself. "I don't want to live without her, Evadne. I can't..." He whispered. She looked down on him a few seconds longer before she stood and began to leave. She paused at the doorway and looked back. Evan was asleep. "I'll think of something." She whispered.
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"What are you doing?! Oh, gods, oh, gods-"
"Shh, Care!" A girl's voice behind a boy's mask.
"What have you done to your hair?" It came out as a moan from the petite and willowy girl.
"I cut it."
"What? Why?"
A pleading voice. "You mustn't tell anyone about this, Care. Not even after I'm gone."
"Why?" The same question, a scared voice.
"You are my friend, Care. Please, just trust me. It's all for good."
"But the sword... And, Evadne, you look like a boy."
A weak grin in the dim light that shone through the tent. "Good."
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Evan,
By the time you've gotten this letter, I'll be gone. Don't bother looking for your sword or your Privileged uniform. You won't find them. I know you'll be furious with me, but please, take this as the gift it is. If I remember right, six months in the Zaibach army and you'll be a part of their little citizenship. Catylon (I probably misspelled her name, but you must allow me my mistakes) will be with you soon enough. Be happy. I won't fail you. A Schezar always keeps her word.
Loyally,
Evadne Schezar
P.S. I'll write. If you return the letters, make sure to address them to Evan Corsin. We don't want anyone thinking I'm not who I'm claiming to be, eh?
