Reversed, Flipped, Reflected
Part 2: Flipped
It was deeply frustrating that my world didn't go topsy-turvy when you were torn away from me. I went to the funeral (just a symbolic ceremony, because there wasn't enough left of you shove into a casket.), cried, recited a few poems and then said some of my own expressing our love and emotional things like that, cried some more, and went over the things we gave each other while we were dating. That's chaotic, you say. I was a healthy, light- hearted 19-year old when my vision of a secure and cozy future shattered and I went reeling into anguish. That's not the way I see it. I did all the usual things, the expected things, so what? I reacted just as any heart- broken fiancée would. And that's what drives me insane.
It was all just routine! What, our love wasn't significant or unusually rare enough for me to do something drastic- like, as unattractive as it may be, loose my senses completely and go chasing your ghost all over the globe? Construct a cult-like shrine for you in one of the countless hidden cubbies of the manor? I should be value the mildness of my grieving all the more for it, I know, but I wish my love for you was intense for me it to actually endure, lodge itself in my mind and interrupt every single second of my day. Instead, I find myself able to go for hours without thinking of you, as if you were just a stranger I ambled upon years ago and sometimes found myself reflecting upon for musing's sake. How repulsive. How relieving. How. depressingly psychology textbook.
One thing most people don't realize is that love is like anything else; it has to end. Through death, or tragedy, or time, love is forced to forfeit its eternality. And afterwards, you sob for your loss, like an addict whose craving to have that comfort again is creeping up on him like the apathetic undertaker. Romantics dare to have a broader scope, and claim that love can be strong enough to go beyond life itself. Dario, is your sprit watching over me? Your intangible hands caressing my hair, brushing my cheek, as I sleep and you pace the halls of what should have been your home, reminiscing about the memories you imagined to have had of us raising our children? Yes, I considered that in the beginning, and drove myself to hysterics at times at the impossibility. And yet, the will of my dreams were so strong that they did take an almost palpable form, at times. I would look over my shoulder to see if your spirit had slipped its arms around my waist and was wistfully embracing me.
But that's nothing. It's shit, just fucking delusion. (Yes, I do swear. When your three best friends growing up were all somewhat coarse boys, it is inevitable that I pick up a few bad habits. And I never do it casually, because really, you only need it when you're upset. And I'm miserable right now.) How could I possibly have been comforted by that appalling thought? You were wandering the earth, too attached to depart and finally find bliss, and rest?
Love's deceptive. Sure, it gives you a high, leaves you giddy and feeling as if you're above everyone else on an emotional level, but then, so does narcotics. And mild poisons. It's also dulls your soul, like the alien chemicals, mostly because you're always giving up little parts of yourself to satisfy the other. I had to give up my passion for doll collecting, because Dario couldn't stand them. (I can sort of see his point. It is a bit unnerving to have a hundred unblinking eyes in the same room as you while you're trying to have a make-out session.) I made him swear to never touch a drop of alcohol. Glenn said that I was less motherly; Karsh complained that Dario was never any more fun.
But we were selfishly devoted to each and would do anything to avoid arguments. In that aspect we were different from most couples. We skipped the draining drama and trauma and become the most placid (boring!), celebrated pair in town. Things that needed to be settled simply went about their own way to resolve themselves.
Karsh and Glenn were so embarrassed to be in our company, they'd always take off with you telling Karsh bye and for Glenn to back home for dinner when I arrived. They knew that they just didn't belong in the atmosphere while we were together. They were interlopers, unnecessary spectators. Glenn was your younger brother, and hearing us talk about things that would have a deep effect on him made him uncomfortable. He didn't want nieces and nephews, didn't want to live at the manor because you were his guardian and he would have to come along. He was still dependent on you for everything and knew that when we got married, we'd be too busy establishing ourselves as man and wife for you to pay much attention to him. He wanted us to wait, so it wouldn't interfere with his life, the one he had right now and liked. But he was too shy to say anything about it to us, so he just ran away from his issues.
Karsh just didn't like the marriage. Period. And I knew why, and you knew why, and we even halfway approached him about it. But he was generous and let it lie as it was for another day. We both knew it was eating him up inside, that it was agony every time we touched lips or rubbed up against each other. But we so determined to ignore everything else so we could dote upon each other that we disregarded even the devastation that would be inflicted upon your brother and our best friend.
I wasn't brought up that way. I always felt awful if I even just scolded Glenn or refused to share my candy as a little girl. I remember people complimenting me on my sweetness, my consideration for all living things, from the lowliest criminal to my dearest companions. But when we discovered each other, the good part of me just melted away, replaced by fawning infatuation. The comments about my tender nature shifted to remarks about my emerging beauty, our compatibility, my success, anything but the admiration of my compassion.
I was a healer. I vowed to care for all ailing things as a child when my mother died of an illness, and exploit my white innate to the fullest. There never should have been a time when I hurt and knew but didn't care. When you swear to have an undying concern for all suffering creatures, the unblemished intent should never be eclipsed by anything, especially not by the pureness of love. And if you think your death put an end to it, you're wrong. I'm desperately trying to put you back in my thoughts as others plead for me to at least try to have an interest in something other than that.
Glenn's perfectly alright on his own, and Karsh is just watching out for both us. He's not trying to take your place, but he still is hopelessly in love with me and is just delaying confrontation because he doesn't want to take advantage of me. I should just make him happy and go to him, then have an ideal existence. I'd have husband that I didn't care too much about so there would be enough left to administer the sick and wounded, and be Glenn's friend as well, but I can't go back to being a good person. I don't know why. I spend my days obsessing over you, and then brood when I think I'm not being morbid enough.
Dario, I was a better person. I would have cared if I changed into something worse. Then suddenly I didn't, and there's nothing and no one to place the blame on.
How did you make me flip?
***
Phew.almost didn't make it with this one. You can tell I was confused in the beginning, can't you? And, um...yes, Riddel's a little like this in my mind, but not exactly. Or maybe she is. I don't know, she wasn't one of my favorite characters and I didn't analyze her this thoroughly until now. Real strange, isn't it? But eh. I wrote what came along. About halfway, it became work, so I knew I was doing something wrong, and tweaked it. Oh well, I liked how it turned out. Except I put in the "flipped" part a little late. I think I got the timing on the other one, "Reversed" a lot better. And for Riddel and Karsh fans.Sorry, but I just don't think it would work, which is why it's the way it is up there.
I hope I have the "tone" right. Riddel may have been a formal lady, but she wasn't early on. That's why it's sort of alternating from "stiff poet" to "casual/ unhappy girl"
Anyway, a thing I've noticed about a lot of fics that the authors don't take certain liberties with the character's-er- character. (Other than sexual preference, of course. :-P ) They stick to what the game says, which in Chrono Cross, isn't a whole lot on account of the number of characters. I mean, yeah, they have a theme, but they're still human. (or demi-human), which means they should be a lot more complicated than just a funny accent or a sob story. C'mon, this is the world of writing here.develop them a little!
Okay, I've decided to copy what Dixxy does because it's just so convenient.
Wingheart: Why thank you. I was hoping that I would do something like that. I looked into your file and *GASP* no fics! You've been here for a while, so why haven't you posted anything? And here I was, thinking that you'd have some great insight pieces. Oh well. Make you a deal. Post something, and I promise I won't yell at you ever again ;-)
Dixxy: What? No, you've got it all wrong! I love Dario as much as I love Glenn! Of course, he does seem like a bit of a pushover for a military man, and he's waaay too sensitive at times, plus he never even mentions Glenn during that whole "Masamune" mix-up, the Riddel-obsessing, love-sick basta- ok, you were right. I do want Glenn to hate him. :-P Thank you for the encouragement, by the way.
Uftaki: Oh cool. I didn't think anyone would actually believe what I said about him. Your comments are much appreciated from a drama queen such as I. Oh, and I forgot to mention something in the first installment. These fics take place before or during the game. I don't remember which. And I think what Glenn said about Serge might have given off the impression of yaoi. That wasn't my intent, but whatever.
Of course, the same reviewing standards apply as last time: If you want me to talk to you directly, answer a question, or complain about whatever, leave me your e-mail address and I'll get back to ya. Oh, and I forgot thank-yous last time. First of all, reviewers, you people are great. Thank- you Lena, Dixxy, and Miso!!! It was reading your fics that got me out of my slump!!!
And the last one is: Reflected (Try guessing who that'll be.)
Part 2: Flipped
It was deeply frustrating that my world didn't go topsy-turvy when you were torn away from me. I went to the funeral (just a symbolic ceremony, because there wasn't enough left of you shove into a casket.), cried, recited a few poems and then said some of my own expressing our love and emotional things like that, cried some more, and went over the things we gave each other while we were dating. That's chaotic, you say. I was a healthy, light- hearted 19-year old when my vision of a secure and cozy future shattered and I went reeling into anguish. That's not the way I see it. I did all the usual things, the expected things, so what? I reacted just as any heart- broken fiancée would. And that's what drives me insane.
It was all just routine! What, our love wasn't significant or unusually rare enough for me to do something drastic- like, as unattractive as it may be, loose my senses completely and go chasing your ghost all over the globe? Construct a cult-like shrine for you in one of the countless hidden cubbies of the manor? I should be value the mildness of my grieving all the more for it, I know, but I wish my love for you was intense for me it to actually endure, lodge itself in my mind and interrupt every single second of my day. Instead, I find myself able to go for hours without thinking of you, as if you were just a stranger I ambled upon years ago and sometimes found myself reflecting upon for musing's sake. How repulsive. How relieving. How. depressingly psychology textbook.
One thing most people don't realize is that love is like anything else; it has to end. Through death, or tragedy, or time, love is forced to forfeit its eternality. And afterwards, you sob for your loss, like an addict whose craving to have that comfort again is creeping up on him like the apathetic undertaker. Romantics dare to have a broader scope, and claim that love can be strong enough to go beyond life itself. Dario, is your sprit watching over me? Your intangible hands caressing my hair, brushing my cheek, as I sleep and you pace the halls of what should have been your home, reminiscing about the memories you imagined to have had of us raising our children? Yes, I considered that in the beginning, and drove myself to hysterics at times at the impossibility. And yet, the will of my dreams were so strong that they did take an almost palpable form, at times. I would look over my shoulder to see if your spirit had slipped its arms around my waist and was wistfully embracing me.
But that's nothing. It's shit, just fucking delusion. (Yes, I do swear. When your three best friends growing up were all somewhat coarse boys, it is inevitable that I pick up a few bad habits. And I never do it casually, because really, you only need it when you're upset. And I'm miserable right now.) How could I possibly have been comforted by that appalling thought? You were wandering the earth, too attached to depart and finally find bliss, and rest?
Love's deceptive. Sure, it gives you a high, leaves you giddy and feeling as if you're above everyone else on an emotional level, but then, so does narcotics. And mild poisons. It's also dulls your soul, like the alien chemicals, mostly because you're always giving up little parts of yourself to satisfy the other. I had to give up my passion for doll collecting, because Dario couldn't stand them. (I can sort of see his point. It is a bit unnerving to have a hundred unblinking eyes in the same room as you while you're trying to have a make-out session.) I made him swear to never touch a drop of alcohol. Glenn said that I was less motherly; Karsh complained that Dario was never any more fun.
But we were selfishly devoted to each and would do anything to avoid arguments. In that aspect we were different from most couples. We skipped the draining drama and trauma and become the most placid (boring!), celebrated pair in town. Things that needed to be settled simply went about their own way to resolve themselves.
Karsh and Glenn were so embarrassed to be in our company, they'd always take off with you telling Karsh bye and for Glenn to back home for dinner when I arrived. They knew that they just didn't belong in the atmosphere while we were together. They were interlopers, unnecessary spectators. Glenn was your younger brother, and hearing us talk about things that would have a deep effect on him made him uncomfortable. He didn't want nieces and nephews, didn't want to live at the manor because you were his guardian and he would have to come along. He was still dependent on you for everything and knew that when we got married, we'd be too busy establishing ourselves as man and wife for you to pay much attention to him. He wanted us to wait, so it wouldn't interfere with his life, the one he had right now and liked. But he was too shy to say anything about it to us, so he just ran away from his issues.
Karsh just didn't like the marriage. Period. And I knew why, and you knew why, and we even halfway approached him about it. But he was generous and let it lie as it was for another day. We both knew it was eating him up inside, that it was agony every time we touched lips or rubbed up against each other. But we so determined to ignore everything else so we could dote upon each other that we disregarded even the devastation that would be inflicted upon your brother and our best friend.
I wasn't brought up that way. I always felt awful if I even just scolded Glenn or refused to share my candy as a little girl. I remember people complimenting me on my sweetness, my consideration for all living things, from the lowliest criminal to my dearest companions. But when we discovered each other, the good part of me just melted away, replaced by fawning infatuation. The comments about my tender nature shifted to remarks about my emerging beauty, our compatibility, my success, anything but the admiration of my compassion.
I was a healer. I vowed to care for all ailing things as a child when my mother died of an illness, and exploit my white innate to the fullest. There never should have been a time when I hurt and knew but didn't care. When you swear to have an undying concern for all suffering creatures, the unblemished intent should never be eclipsed by anything, especially not by the pureness of love. And if you think your death put an end to it, you're wrong. I'm desperately trying to put you back in my thoughts as others plead for me to at least try to have an interest in something other than that.
Glenn's perfectly alright on his own, and Karsh is just watching out for both us. He's not trying to take your place, but he still is hopelessly in love with me and is just delaying confrontation because he doesn't want to take advantage of me. I should just make him happy and go to him, then have an ideal existence. I'd have husband that I didn't care too much about so there would be enough left to administer the sick and wounded, and be Glenn's friend as well, but I can't go back to being a good person. I don't know why. I spend my days obsessing over you, and then brood when I think I'm not being morbid enough.
Dario, I was a better person. I would have cared if I changed into something worse. Then suddenly I didn't, and there's nothing and no one to place the blame on.
How did you make me flip?
***
Phew.almost didn't make it with this one. You can tell I was confused in the beginning, can't you? And, um...yes, Riddel's a little like this in my mind, but not exactly. Or maybe she is. I don't know, she wasn't one of my favorite characters and I didn't analyze her this thoroughly until now. Real strange, isn't it? But eh. I wrote what came along. About halfway, it became work, so I knew I was doing something wrong, and tweaked it. Oh well, I liked how it turned out. Except I put in the "flipped" part a little late. I think I got the timing on the other one, "Reversed" a lot better. And for Riddel and Karsh fans.Sorry, but I just don't think it would work, which is why it's the way it is up there.
I hope I have the "tone" right. Riddel may have been a formal lady, but she wasn't early on. That's why it's sort of alternating from "stiff poet" to "casual/ unhappy girl"
Anyway, a thing I've noticed about a lot of fics that the authors don't take certain liberties with the character's-er- character. (Other than sexual preference, of course. :-P ) They stick to what the game says, which in Chrono Cross, isn't a whole lot on account of the number of characters. I mean, yeah, they have a theme, but they're still human. (or demi-human), which means they should be a lot more complicated than just a funny accent or a sob story. C'mon, this is the world of writing here.develop them a little!
Okay, I've decided to copy what Dixxy does because it's just so convenient.
Wingheart: Why thank you. I was hoping that I would do something like that. I looked into your file and *GASP* no fics! You've been here for a while, so why haven't you posted anything? And here I was, thinking that you'd have some great insight pieces. Oh well. Make you a deal. Post something, and I promise I won't yell at you ever again ;-)
Dixxy: What? No, you've got it all wrong! I love Dario as much as I love Glenn! Of course, he does seem like a bit of a pushover for a military man, and he's waaay too sensitive at times, plus he never even mentions Glenn during that whole "Masamune" mix-up, the Riddel-obsessing, love-sick basta- ok, you were right. I do want Glenn to hate him. :-P Thank you for the encouragement, by the way.
Uftaki: Oh cool. I didn't think anyone would actually believe what I said about him. Your comments are much appreciated from a drama queen such as I. Oh, and I forgot to mention something in the first installment. These fics take place before or during the game. I don't remember which. And I think what Glenn said about Serge might have given off the impression of yaoi. That wasn't my intent, but whatever.
Of course, the same reviewing standards apply as last time: If you want me to talk to you directly, answer a question, or complain about whatever, leave me your e-mail address and I'll get back to ya. Oh, and I forgot thank-yous last time. First of all, reviewers, you people are great. Thank- you Lena, Dixxy, and Miso!!! It was reading your fics that got me out of my slump!!!
And the last one is: Reflected (Try guessing who that'll be.)
