Disclaimer: Don't own any of the healing items/ summons/ jobs, those are Squaresofts. This is non-profit fun.
`. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `. `.
For every sin, I'll have to pay
I've come to work, I've come to play
I think I'll find another way
It's not my time to go
~ Die Another Day, Madonna
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^***^*^*^*^*^*
Ashen narrowed his eyes angrily at the old man,
tensing up every muscle in his body. His voice hoarse with venom,
"Who the hell are you?"
Light gray smoke puffed out of the old man's mouth as he
shook with laughter, he took the agizlik out of his mouth while
the laughter died down. Pointing the end to indicate Ashen,
"You're not a very bright one are you? Getting all
defensive over an old man! Pah!"
The old man hushed under Ashen's dark growl. "If you
really want to know. I am called Ramuh, the Good Elder."
Ramuh snuffed and placed the agizlik back in his mouth.
Ashen turned the name over in his mind, the familiarity in the
wording stuck out the most. "You're a
summoner," he uttered warily.
The old man pulled down his goggles slightly to flash his beady
red eyes quickly to the young man in the bed. "You could say
that, but summoners don't exist anymore you took care
of that, Oni."
The young man stiffened at the name from his past. The smoke,
made pink by the flickering fire near by, wafted in front of him.
Yet Ashen's dark stare did not flinch and even still watched
the man in anticipation of some hint of violent action against
the him. "So, looking for revenge or something?"
Smoke huffed from the wizened man's nostrils in amusement,
"Yes that would be brilliant, wouldn't it?" He
noted sarcastically, "Drag you from that wreckage you used
to call a vehicle, nurse you back to health from your coma of
three weeks, THEN get my revengeyes, simply
brilliant."
Ashen growled and gripped the covers, "You're toying
with me" his volatile eyes narrowed, "Just get to
the point, old man. What do you want?"
Ramuh rapped his bony knuckles against the metal ball, like a
command it rose up. "All in due time, Oni. All in due
time." With little bleeps the ball floated towards the fire
in the back of his home, a haze of smoke hovered in his wake.
"You walk, don't you? Then follow, little boy,
follow."
Another growl was emitted from Ashen at the sing-song insult.
"I'm not a little boy!" the young man barked. No
answer came, only the orange light stretching over the painted
characters on the stone walls and the gentle roar of fire.
Frustrated by the silence, Ashen ripped off the deer skin blanket
and stormed off towards the little man.
The old man peered through his dark goggles at the angered young
man as he tended to the kettle over the fire. "Good, looks
like my knowledge of healing arts hasn't faded with
age."
That one sentence halted Ashen in his tracks, realizing that he
shouldn't be able to move like he is after such a deadly
motorcycle accident. In fact, he shouldn't be able to move
at all, even if it had been three weeks. Disbelieving it still,
the young man looked to his own hand, flexing it open and shut a
few times.
"Yes, you'll live. Now sit down and eat." The old
man said dishing out a ladle full of some green stew into a bowl.
Ashen unconsciously sat down, still staring at his hand while
Ramuh continued to cite a quote of his own devise,
"Bone's mend and cuts heal, but hunger eludes the
doctors hands."
Ashen stopped looking at his hand and looked at the old man, the
look of wonder drained from his face replaced by anger, mistrust,
but also a hint of bitter sorrow. The young man turned his head
away from the bowl offered, "I'm not hungry"
It was true in a sense, he didn't want to eat. Like he
didn't want to live, he wanted to be with her. Though he
would not end his own life, he would not aid it along. The fact
he didn't die in that accident only embittered him more.
Like fate was determined to keep him and his beloved apart no
matter what, even in death.
Zip, crackle, zap.
"OW SHIT!" Ashen yelled holding his upper arm, his head
snapping back to the old man.
Ramuh calmly put back a long tube into his float ball, "Not
as tough as we think we are, eh?"
"That hurt!" The angered young man shot back through
clenched teeth.
"Well I didn't have a rolled up newspaper to hit you on
the nose with, so I had to make due with what I had on
hand." The old man puffed sarcastically.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Anger
scrunched up Ashen's youthful face, he rubbed the throbbing
red mark on his biceps.
"It means you whine and cry like a little lost puppy."
Ramuh huffed through his drag from the agizlik, "Some
Oni."
"You don't know a damn thing about me, old man!"
Ashen barked, "And stop calling me Oni! It's not my
name, got it?!"
"Fine fine, we'll play the getting to know
you' game after you eat. You're heavy and I'm not
dragging you back to the bed if you faint." He forcefully
placed the bowl in Ashen's lap. Putting down the agizlik for
once, he started to eat from the bowl he had made for himself.
The two were silent, the only sounds were that of the fire and
Ramuh's eating. Ashen picked up his own bowl and ushered
angry spoonfuls of the stew into his mouth. Sniffing sharply once
as he chewed, making his irritation be heard. It was the first
time Ashen had ever eaten a summoner dish, though he didn't
know he was eating the food they used to make in the land he was
born in.
After awhile, Ashen had finished and Ramuh refilled his own bowl,
both still remaining silent. Ashen's eyes drifted to the
fire, there it brought up hateful memories. The ruins of the
monastery, fires in the gardens, faces of people he knew. It all
came back to Aleura, her beautiful face forever locked in his
mind and with it the ugly wound that claimed her life.
Ashen's arm laid lazily across his propped knee, his fist
clenched tightly making his knuckles white under his finger less
gloves. They did it, MAGEThey did itThey will
payThey will die, all of themI'll kill all of
them
Under his dark shaded goggles Ramuh watched the young man in his
intensity, eating to disguise himself. The red in Ashen's
eyes seemed to take on characteristics of the fire itself, the
old man could fancy them casting an inferno inside the little
cave dwelling.
"How far away is Ghri?"
The young man's venomous tone cut through the silence. He
kept his eyes unmoving from the fire that entranced him. His
hanging fist, clenching and releasing as if to wring some
invisible thing. This action seemed to bring him some odd comfort
in his world of rage.
The question went unanswered for a long while. Silence settled
back on the room, save for the crackling fire and the bubbling
rolls from the nargile as Ramuh took a long drag in thought.
Ramuh slowly let the smoke leak out of his mouth.
"I'm not saying"
Ashen's head snapped violently towards the old man calmly
smoking. "Why the hell not?!" He barked viciously.
"Because I can tell what you plan to do once you get there,
utter foolishness if you ask me." The old man puffed on his
nargile in total calm.
In a moment, Ashen was on his feet hovering over the tiny wizen
figure. Agitated and tense he eyed the old man, "You
don't have a clue what I'm planning or what I've
been through!"
Ramuh pulled the agizlik away from his mouth at hearing the dark
threatening words of the young man. "Ha!" His round
wrinkled face confronted Ashen's tanned youthful one.
"I know that look very well. I've seen it in the eyes
of many, young and old. I've even seen it in my own
once."
The floating ball inched upward, the little old man getting right
in Ashen's face, "So who was it? Hm? Friend? Family? A
girl perhaps?"
The red ovals went wide with shock briefly at the near prophetic
assumption, then narrowed coldly, enraged at the old mans prying.
"That's none of your business, old man" The
younger summoner stated icy smooth.
Ashen tore away from the old summoner, with a huff he plopped
back down in the spot he sat in before. He pulled his knees to
his chest and wrapped his bare arms around them, he buried the
lower half of his face into the tangle of his arms leaving his
red eyes fiercely fixed to the burning orange blaze before him.
The two summoners shifted once more to an uptight silence,
falling into their own conflicting thoughts and nostalgia as the
fire ate up the logs under the kettle with a pops and cracks.
Ramuh continued to watch Ashen from time to time from the corner
of his hidden eyes, contemplating the young man and all that he
knew him to be as well as what he didn't know of him, while
taking a long drag on his nargile and exhaling the rich smoke.
Slowly, the young man unraveled from his constricted siting
position, letting one leg drop while the other remained bent
slightly at his chest, his elbow propped on his bent knee
allowing his palm to press on his eyebrow and the rest of the
hand tangled in his white scruffy locks. His other hand, crossed
over his chest, gripped the flesh of his shoulder almost clawing
at it. His oval red eyes shut tightly for a minute and then
returned to the fire, their burning intensity gone replaced by
glossy anguish. At this moment Ramuh's saw Ashen in a new
light, he was not the formidable image of Oni, but a young man
whose grief was eating him alive.
"So," he started carefully, knowing he was treading
into a very delicate area, "What was she like?"
His young red eyes flashed angrily at the old summoner, but
slowly eased back to the fire, "Like nothing else in this
world..."
"My, you think highly of her."
"I'm not exaggerating that..." Ashen's heavy eyes
closed in reminisce of the strange and beautiful girl who lit up
the dark places in his life, "She was holy being, a High
Priestess. She would give up her life at the drop of a hat to
protect someone, even if they were some murderous pagan...all to
give them another chance." A slight smirk appeared on his
lips to the shock of Ramuh, "She saw things in people and
was always so blindly optimistic, I used to think she was
annoying like that. I still don't get why she could fall in love
with me, we were so different." The smirk slowly faded.
" She was going to give it all up for me...we were going to
live together..."
The young man's eyes cringed tightly under his lids, his jaw
clenched as he gripped his shoulder tightly. His body relaxed
again and his eyes opened once more, the fire in them once again
blazing fiercely. He continued, a new bitter tone rung in his
voice, "She was innocent, you know? They all were..."
The young man seemed to snarl, "They had no part of any of
this... MAGE..."
Blood started to trickle down Ashen's arm from his shoulder where
his nail dug into the tanned flesh, he didn't seem to feel it at
all, locked in his bitter thirst for revenge. Ramuh watched the
young man in wonder, shocked by all he had just heard. The Oni
actually feels...
Regaining his composer he placed the agizlik in his mouth, he
spoke low in muffled words, "You know, if you go, you will
just get yourself killed?"
"Heh..."A cynical smirk graced Ashen's lips, his eyes
rolled over to the old summoner, his face almost looked kindly,
"Maybe that's the plan?"
The old man again gawked at the young man's blatant admission, he
wanted to die, and throwing his life away in a brief moment of
revenge was how he planned to go. The younger summoner's
face just slid back to the fire, ignoring the man's stare.
Anger gradually simmered inside the old summoner, for some reason
this mode of thinking, specifically this young man thinking it,
infuriated him. He slowly pulled the agizlik from his mouth, his
face was hard even under his goggles one could tell he was
glaring at Ashen.
"What gives you the right?" The old man said slow and
deliberately in a sub-zero tone.
Ashen's face inched back over to the old man with narrowed
eyes darkly glinting.
Ramuh continued, his voice a little more aggressive, "What
gives you the right to thirst for death? When so many who
deserved life died at your hands." Gradually his voice began
to escalate, "What gives you the right to feel love when you
stole the lives of those who never had the chance to feel
it?!" His hand shook the agizlik firmly at Ashen emphasizing
his rage, "And what gives you the right to revenge when no
one's left to claim revenge on you?!"
The old man took a sharp intake of breath, he nearly shook with
rage, "You lost someone you loved? So what! Who
hasn't?! I've lost more to you in an hour then you will
ever lose in your entire life! You have no right to mourn in such
a pathetic manner!"
Ramuh breathing slowed to ragged breaths after his enraged out
burst. His glaring eyes under his dark goggles watched
Ashen's, his young cold eyes glared threateningly at the old
man, but then slowly his whole head turned back to the fire.
The rage inside the old summoner burned brightly again at the
young man's gesture of disregard. He resisted every urge in
his body to strangle the insolent little brat. "Kuso-"
He hissed trying to keep it under his breath but failed
miserably, "Baka Oni!"
Instantly, Ramuh tapped roughly on the metal ball under him and
floated away to some place far from Ashen's presence.
Muttering curses in the old summoner tongue that Ashen
couldn't understand, but figured centered on him. Good, he
was starting to piss me off.
The young man stretched out, for the first time noticing the dry
blood on his hand and shoulder. Mystified by its presence there
briefly, but filled out the blanks as he examined the finger nail
marks in his skin. Staring at his hand he noted the symbolism.
Blood on my handsisn't that always the case?
My blood, their blood, her blooddoes it ever get clean?
Even when you try to scrub it away, it's still there.
It'll never go away. So why shouldn't I die the way I
lived? Bloodstained.
Beeps tore Ashen from his thoughts, he turned his eyes to the
little man. He still seemed to be angry, but simmered it down to
bitter tolerance. Ashen gave him the what do you want
now?' look, but the old man ignored it, he was here with a
purpose.
"Do you want them back?" He asked sharply.
Ashen furrowed his brow and stared at him quizzically, "What
are you talking about?"
Ramuh floated over in front of Ashen. He tapped his index finger
to his temple slowly and deliberately. He whispered with a low
hiss emphasizing his meaning, "Them"
Ashen's eyes grew slightly wider. He suddenly understood
what the old man was talking about.
$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$%$
AN: I like the way this chapter's written, lotsa body language and emotion. I had just finished reading Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck and though I don't really like Steinbeck's stories, I do like his writing style cause it's similar to what I would like my own to be. So this chap is a serious attempt at mingling some of his with my ownis that wrong? I mean, yes writing is an expression of self and every writer has his or her own style, but we also learn from those we admire and take on, whether consciously or unconsciously, the characteristics of those who inspire us. I guess that's how I reason it, so if someone has a problem with itBite me?
See ya next week! * Smile *
