AN: I actually changed part of this chapter; I took some things out and
changed some words and stuff. I hope it has changed for the better.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
'Where were you all that time?' Gatti asked Mystic. All the Dragonslayers were looking at Mystic expectantly. She had been back only a week.
'Yea, we thought you were dead or something.' Guimel explained, he had heard that rumor earlier from some other soldiers.
'No way, I can't get killed that easily.' Mystic told everyone, bragging slightly.
'So where were you?' Shesta inquired. Dallet hadn't said anything to her since she had gotten back, she was worried that he felt guilty for her injures.
'Before waking up in a bed all covered in bandages I only remember right before they carried me out of the training room. I had been asleep for almost four days, including the surgery.' Mystic told them, taking a drink of milk.
'Surgery?' Dallet asked finally, he looked shocked.
'Yea, they ran some tests and found that both of my wrists and knees were weak, including my right shoulder, elbow, all of my back. My right knee and wrist were the worst, that is why my wrist broke during training and my knee hurt so much.' Mystic told everyone.
'Your knee hurt during training?' Viole asked, totally surprised.
'I didn't notice that at all.' Dallet said, feeling the guilt lift a little. But he was still the one who had hurt her in the first place.
'Yea, they had to totally rebuild my right knee and wrist, so they thought while they were at it they would fix everything else. And besides, it would save them time.' Mystic said with a smile.
'I suppose, but you still missed some training and classes. We will be graduating in four months and the expect us to be studying more, and not to miss any more classes until then.' Dilandau told her, he was sitting across from her, munching on some cereal.
'I know, but Folken said that that was alright. I already know most of the stuff so I will be fine.' Mystic said, they all agreed with this, she was much better than them at most of the subjects that they were taught.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three weeks later Folken called Mystic into a room in the middle of the night. Mystic had been woken up by a guard shaking her by the shoulder. She was angry that Folken had sent for her, but he always had his reasons.
When Mystic walked into the room, it was a little gloomy. There were two chairs and a table off to the side in the middle of them, there were two wine glasses and a bottle of wine on the table. Folken was standing in the middle of all this, waiting for her. Folken motioned her to sit down.
'I heard you wanted to talk to me. What's this "great importance"?' Mystic asked in a haughty voice, she was disgruntled with having been summoned in the middle of the night.
Mystic and Folken sat down. Mystic put her right leg up on the table, and then folded her hands in her lap. Folken looked at her, trying to judge her behavior.
The night blue armor she wore so proudly seemed to glow. However, after a closer examination, Folken saw a few traces of lines on Mystic's face. It troubled Folken that one so young already bore the lines of aged weariness. A frown stained her now pale lips. Folken sighed.
'So, what did you need to talk to me about?' Mystic asked. She took her leg off the table, slowly repositioning herself. Folken picked up a glass and poured some wine into it. Mystic took her wineglass in her hand. She then started to circle the rim of the glass with her finger.
Folken knew it was easier to talk to her about what he wanted to talk to her about when she had had a little wine, and maybe a little something else.
'I just received new orders about the capturing of the province of Sordia.' Folken said. He didn't offer anything else. He liked to make Mystic ask, it amused him. He slowly took a sip from his wineglass. The sweet alcohol tasted good for some reason, not like it normally did.
Mystic's eyes snapped up to Folken's face at the mention of a battle. 'What changes?' She asked with urgency.
'General Adelphos would like for Dilandau, you and the others to only capture the mine. Sordia has some sort of "treaty" with Asturia. If you hurt any civilians, Asturia will have to attack.' Folken replied quietly. Mystic regarded the news with a submissive look in her eyes. Folken could tell that she was disappointed at the prospect of not being able to kill.
As beautiful and angelic as her appearance might be, Mystic was a warrior- a warrior that thoroughly enjoyed her work. However, Folken found it strange that she was accepting the orders so calmly. Folken expected at least some resistance. As usual Mystic didn't fail him. Better late then never.
'Why do we care if Asturia attacks? Our forces are ten times that of Asturia. You have that king in you pocket anyway.' Mystic's eyes brightened with this newfound loophole, she smiled maliciously.
The talk of battle mad her heated, or else it was the wine. She took another sip of the red liquid.
'Mystic,' Folken sighed, 'We can't burn and pillage every single country that we attack. All we need is the mine. Also, we need Freid. They hold the power spot. To get to Freid we have to have Asturia.' Folken looked at her impassively.
'Of course,' Mystic said, a kittenish purr in her voice. Folken knew that voice. That voice was the sound of a predator about to pounce. 'Folken, always the logical one, the cautious one. "We can't burn and pillage every single country." Would you just pull some balls out of your pockets and-'
Mystic stopped her tirade and suddenly clutched her chest, where her heart was. Folken looked up from his wineglass and saw her eyes bulge slightly. She stood up from her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. Folken stood up, his whole body finally reacting with his surprise. The silver-haired girl fell to the ground, her eyes full of fear. She screamed once, then her garnet-colored irises closed and she was still.
'What the hell?' Folken said out loud. He was quickly at her side, he was on his knees. Mystic's face was very pale. Folken dropped his head to Mystic's, he could tell that she was not breathing.
Immediately he lowered his lips to hers, closed her nose, and gave her a few slow rescue breathes. Mystic still didn't stir. Folken wanted to call for a doctor, or a Sorcerer (heaven forbid), but they would never reach them in time. Folken's quarters, unfortunately, were hidden deep within the bowels of the Vione. Folken's mind raced. Folken continued with his rescue attempts. Finally he placed his fingers to the girl's neck, only to realize the Mystic had lost her pulse.
'Baka!' Folken cried softly to no one. Hastily, his actions became more frantic, he ripped her jacket from her body, and began to pump her chest. After fifteen thrusts Folken breathed once again into her mouth.
Mystic started to gasp. Folken lifted his head. Mystic's eyes flicked open, her pupil's were large black orbs encompassed in ruby pools. She sat up suddenly, almost crashing into Folken's face. Folken jerked back at this unexpected movement. Mystic's eyes were unfocused, but there was terror in them that shook Folken to the bone. She clutched her chest again, taking erratic and shallow breathes. Folken placed his hand on the back of Mystic's neck, his other on her shoulder. Gently Folken shook her, and her eyes snapped back into focus.
'Mystic, Mystic!' Folken said, rather sharply. She looked at him confused, her look that of a deer in headlights. There was so much terror in her eyes.
'Folken!' Her voice came out raspy, and her eyes snapped into focus. Her soft hands reached inside Folken's cloak and grabbed at the leather of his clothes. Shuddering, she fell against his chest. Mystic, one of the greatest soldiers in all of Zaibach, was clutching to Folken. For once Folken had no idea on how to proceed. The art of soothing another creature was foreign to him. He couldn't even soothe his own soul.
After a few minutes Mystic's shaking stopped and she quietly drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping one free arm around her knees. She kept her left arm clutched inside of Folken's cloak. She still kept her body against his. Slowly Folken moved to rise for his crouched position. He had to alarm the doctors.
'Folken, don't leave me, please don't leave me!' Her voice, the voice that terrified even the most hardened soldiers, was weak, and pleading. Mystic encircled her arms around Folken's body, clutching at him like a small child. Her eyes briefly looked up at him, imploringly, then she buried her head in Folken's chest.
Reflexively Folken wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. What am I doing? Folken wondered. Gradually Folken came to the realization the he actually enjoyed this contact. He hadn't been touched in ages. He needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held by him. Quickly Folken shook his head. This isn't right. Folken told himself. Mystic was a soldier in Zaibach's army. She shouldn't have been doing that, and for a matter of fact, neither should have Folken. Still, Folken sighed with pleasure and simply held her.
Minutes passed. Folken had lost all sense of time. How long have I sat here on the ground, this warm angel in my arms, I don't know. Folken thought. Mystic was quiet and still. She'd been so for quite sometime. Perhaps she was asleep. Folken silently undid his cloak with one hand and draped it over Mystic. She started slightly, but Folken held her still and comforted her by humming and old Fanelian tune. Folken finished, and everything was quiet and still once more. Folken started to feel slightly drowsy and began to think if he should end this nonsense or not.
'I saw death,' Came a whisper. Folken snapped his head up from where it had rested atop Mystic's silvery tresses. Folken felt the girl's warm breath as she spoke against his chest. Folken didn't say anything. He knew what it was like to see death. Words could not describe it.
'I was all alone,' Mystic began. She sounded like one revealing a deep, horrid secret, maybe she really was. ', trapped in nothingness. I never want to die, not if that is my fate,' Mystic took in a shaky breath and stopped. Her words were short and clipped.
'A soldier's life is full of death,' Folken said, filling the silence while Mystic regained her voice. Damn! Why did I say that? I want to reach out and catch the words and crush them in my fist. Folken thought angrily at himself, he could feel her head shaking in agreement against his chest.
'If. if that is death, then I. I don't think I can deal with that anymore.' Her voice was soft and childish. Folken could feel the stain of tears upon his chest. Mystic was crying. Folken knew that he should reassure her. If this girl, this soldier, gives up her livelihood this war will be over. Zaibach will lose and everything Folken had worked for would mean nothing. Folken could tell her a fairytale, lies about how the life of a soldier is glorious. But Folken couldn't lie to her. He could lie to the gods and never think twice about it, but he couldn't lie to the angel that was crying in his arms. Instead he wrapped his arms a little tighter around her and held her to close to him.
Folken's mind drifted. Van, Van used to do this. Late at night he'd come trembling to Folken's door and ease it open, trying to be quiet. Folken would always hear the noise of creaking footsteps and awake from his slumber. 'Folken, are you awake?' Von would say, his little voice weak with fear. Folken would always tell him yes, and he'd crawl into Folken's bed and cry about his nightmares to him while Folken held him in his arms. Eventually he'd quiet down and would drift off to sleep.
'I never want to be alone.'
The voice broke Folken's reverie, and his mind quickly readjusted. Mystic was trembling in his grasp. Mystic was frightened of being alone? Folken almost laughed bitterly, but laughing was something he did not do. Mystic had tons of people fawning over her. She would never be alone. Now, Folken realized, now is the time to speak.
'You'll never be alone,' Folken said softly. His deep voice seemed to echo across the room. Mystic pulled her head away from his chest, watery crimson irises. Small, pearly tears were trickling down her face.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
'Where were you all that time?' Gatti asked Mystic. All the Dragonslayers were looking at Mystic expectantly. She had been back only a week.
'Yea, we thought you were dead or something.' Guimel explained, he had heard that rumor earlier from some other soldiers.
'No way, I can't get killed that easily.' Mystic told everyone, bragging slightly.
'So where were you?' Shesta inquired. Dallet hadn't said anything to her since she had gotten back, she was worried that he felt guilty for her injures.
'Before waking up in a bed all covered in bandages I only remember right before they carried me out of the training room. I had been asleep for almost four days, including the surgery.' Mystic told them, taking a drink of milk.
'Surgery?' Dallet asked finally, he looked shocked.
'Yea, they ran some tests and found that both of my wrists and knees were weak, including my right shoulder, elbow, all of my back. My right knee and wrist were the worst, that is why my wrist broke during training and my knee hurt so much.' Mystic told everyone.
'Your knee hurt during training?' Viole asked, totally surprised.
'I didn't notice that at all.' Dallet said, feeling the guilt lift a little. But he was still the one who had hurt her in the first place.
'Yea, they had to totally rebuild my right knee and wrist, so they thought while they were at it they would fix everything else. And besides, it would save them time.' Mystic said with a smile.
'I suppose, but you still missed some training and classes. We will be graduating in four months and the expect us to be studying more, and not to miss any more classes until then.' Dilandau told her, he was sitting across from her, munching on some cereal.
'I know, but Folken said that that was alright. I already know most of the stuff so I will be fine.' Mystic said, they all agreed with this, she was much better than them at most of the subjects that they were taught.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three weeks later Folken called Mystic into a room in the middle of the night. Mystic had been woken up by a guard shaking her by the shoulder. She was angry that Folken had sent for her, but he always had his reasons.
When Mystic walked into the room, it was a little gloomy. There were two chairs and a table off to the side in the middle of them, there were two wine glasses and a bottle of wine on the table. Folken was standing in the middle of all this, waiting for her. Folken motioned her to sit down.
'I heard you wanted to talk to me. What's this "great importance"?' Mystic asked in a haughty voice, she was disgruntled with having been summoned in the middle of the night.
Mystic and Folken sat down. Mystic put her right leg up on the table, and then folded her hands in her lap. Folken looked at her, trying to judge her behavior.
The night blue armor she wore so proudly seemed to glow. However, after a closer examination, Folken saw a few traces of lines on Mystic's face. It troubled Folken that one so young already bore the lines of aged weariness. A frown stained her now pale lips. Folken sighed.
'So, what did you need to talk to me about?' Mystic asked. She took her leg off the table, slowly repositioning herself. Folken picked up a glass and poured some wine into it. Mystic took her wineglass in her hand. She then started to circle the rim of the glass with her finger.
Folken knew it was easier to talk to her about what he wanted to talk to her about when she had had a little wine, and maybe a little something else.
'I just received new orders about the capturing of the province of Sordia.' Folken said. He didn't offer anything else. He liked to make Mystic ask, it amused him. He slowly took a sip from his wineglass. The sweet alcohol tasted good for some reason, not like it normally did.
Mystic's eyes snapped up to Folken's face at the mention of a battle. 'What changes?' She asked with urgency.
'General Adelphos would like for Dilandau, you and the others to only capture the mine. Sordia has some sort of "treaty" with Asturia. If you hurt any civilians, Asturia will have to attack.' Folken replied quietly. Mystic regarded the news with a submissive look in her eyes. Folken could tell that she was disappointed at the prospect of not being able to kill.
As beautiful and angelic as her appearance might be, Mystic was a warrior- a warrior that thoroughly enjoyed her work. However, Folken found it strange that she was accepting the orders so calmly. Folken expected at least some resistance. As usual Mystic didn't fail him. Better late then never.
'Why do we care if Asturia attacks? Our forces are ten times that of Asturia. You have that king in you pocket anyway.' Mystic's eyes brightened with this newfound loophole, she smiled maliciously.
The talk of battle mad her heated, or else it was the wine. She took another sip of the red liquid.
'Mystic,' Folken sighed, 'We can't burn and pillage every single country that we attack. All we need is the mine. Also, we need Freid. They hold the power spot. To get to Freid we have to have Asturia.' Folken looked at her impassively.
'Of course,' Mystic said, a kittenish purr in her voice. Folken knew that voice. That voice was the sound of a predator about to pounce. 'Folken, always the logical one, the cautious one. "We can't burn and pillage every single country." Would you just pull some balls out of your pockets and-'
Mystic stopped her tirade and suddenly clutched her chest, where her heart was. Folken looked up from his wineglass and saw her eyes bulge slightly. She stood up from her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. Folken stood up, his whole body finally reacting with his surprise. The silver-haired girl fell to the ground, her eyes full of fear. She screamed once, then her garnet-colored irises closed and she was still.
'What the hell?' Folken said out loud. He was quickly at her side, he was on his knees. Mystic's face was very pale. Folken dropped his head to Mystic's, he could tell that she was not breathing.
Immediately he lowered his lips to hers, closed her nose, and gave her a few slow rescue breathes. Mystic still didn't stir. Folken wanted to call for a doctor, or a Sorcerer (heaven forbid), but they would never reach them in time. Folken's quarters, unfortunately, were hidden deep within the bowels of the Vione. Folken's mind raced. Folken continued with his rescue attempts. Finally he placed his fingers to the girl's neck, only to realize the Mystic had lost her pulse.
'Baka!' Folken cried softly to no one. Hastily, his actions became more frantic, he ripped her jacket from her body, and began to pump her chest. After fifteen thrusts Folken breathed once again into her mouth.
Mystic started to gasp. Folken lifted his head. Mystic's eyes flicked open, her pupil's were large black orbs encompassed in ruby pools. She sat up suddenly, almost crashing into Folken's face. Folken jerked back at this unexpected movement. Mystic's eyes were unfocused, but there was terror in them that shook Folken to the bone. She clutched her chest again, taking erratic and shallow breathes. Folken placed his hand on the back of Mystic's neck, his other on her shoulder. Gently Folken shook her, and her eyes snapped back into focus.
'Mystic, Mystic!' Folken said, rather sharply. She looked at him confused, her look that of a deer in headlights. There was so much terror in her eyes.
'Folken!' Her voice came out raspy, and her eyes snapped into focus. Her soft hands reached inside Folken's cloak and grabbed at the leather of his clothes. Shuddering, she fell against his chest. Mystic, one of the greatest soldiers in all of Zaibach, was clutching to Folken. For once Folken had no idea on how to proceed. The art of soothing another creature was foreign to him. He couldn't even soothe his own soul.
After a few minutes Mystic's shaking stopped and she quietly drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping one free arm around her knees. She kept her left arm clutched inside of Folken's cloak. She still kept her body against his. Slowly Folken moved to rise for his crouched position. He had to alarm the doctors.
'Folken, don't leave me, please don't leave me!' Her voice, the voice that terrified even the most hardened soldiers, was weak, and pleading. Mystic encircled her arms around Folken's body, clutching at him like a small child. Her eyes briefly looked up at him, imploringly, then she buried her head in Folken's chest.
Reflexively Folken wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. What am I doing? Folken wondered. Gradually Folken came to the realization the he actually enjoyed this contact. He hadn't been touched in ages. He needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held by him. Quickly Folken shook his head. This isn't right. Folken told himself. Mystic was a soldier in Zaibach's army. She shouldn't have been doing that, and for a matter of fact, neither should have Folken. Still, Folken sighed with pleasure and simply held her.
Minutes passed. Folken had lost all sense of time. How long have I sat here on the ground, this warm angel in my arms, I don't know. Folken thought. Mystic was quiet and still. She'd been so for quite sometime. Perhaps she was asleep. Folken silently undid his cloak with one hand and draped it over Mystic. She started slightly, but Folken held her still and comforted her by humming and old Fanelian tune. Folken finished, and everything was quiet and still once more. Folken started to feel slightly drowsy and began to think if he should end this nonsense or not.
'I saw death,' Came a whisper. Folken snapped his head up from where it had rested atop Mystic's silvery tresses. Folken felt the girl's warm breath as she spoke against his chest. Folken didn't say anything. He knew what it was like to see death. Words could not describe it.
'I was all alone,' Mystic began. She sounded like one revealing a deep, horrid secret, maybe she really was. ', trapped in nothingness. I never want to die, not if that is my fate,' Mystic took in a shaky breath and stopped. Her words were short and clipped.
'A soldier's life is full of death,' Folken said, filling the silence while Mystic regained her voice. Damn! Why did I say that? I want to reach out and catch the words and crush them in my fist. Folken thought angrily at himself, he could feel her head shaking in agreement against his chest.
'If. if that is death, then I. I don't think I can deal with that anymore.' Her voice was soft and childish. Folken could feel the stain of tears upon his chest. Mystic was crying. Folken knew that he should reassure her. If this girl, this soldier, gives up her livelihood this war will be over. Zaibach will lose and everything Folken had worked for would mean nothing. Folken could tell her a fairytale, lies about how the life of a soldier is glorious. But Folken couldn't lie to her. He could lie to the gods and never think twice about it, but he couldn't lie to the angel that was crying in his arms. Instead he wrapped his arms a little tighter around her and held her to close to him.
Folken's mind drifted. Van, Van used to do this. Late at night he'd come trembling to Folken's door and ease it open, trying to be quiet. Folken would always hear the noise of creaking footsteps and awake from his slumber. 'Folken, are you awake?' Von would say, his little voice weak with fear. Folken would always tell him yes, and he'd crawl into Folken's bed and cry about his nightmares to him while Folken held him in his arms. Eventually he'd quiet down and would drift off to sleep.
'I never want to be alone.'
The voice broke Folken's reverie, and his mind quickly readjusted. Mystic was trembling in his grasp. Mystic was frightened of being alone? Folken almost laughed bitterly, but laughing was something he did not do. Mystic had tons of people fawning over her. She would never be alone. Now, Folken realized, now is the time to speak.
'You'll never be alone,' Folken said softly. His deep voice seemed to echo across the room. Mystic pulled her head away from his chest, watery crimson irises. Small, pearly tears were trickling down her face.