(Finally, an update. Between Japanese quizzes and hallmates running
headfirst into walls, I've been pretty distracted lately. Unfortunately,
this is a slow chapter. I don't think I can draw this story out enough. -_-
Luckily, I know most of the plot so all that is needed is to get it down on
paper. Enjoy!
P.S. fixed the transition problem [hopefully] .. apparently the times new roman line thingy doesn't convert. Asterisks aren't aesthetically pleasing to me .. but here goes. ^_^)
***********************************************************************
III. Moth to a Flame
Hitomi slowly crept through the doorway of her dark house, closing the door behind her without a sound. It was way past her curfew, which was ridiculous to her anyways, being eighteen and all. She slipped her shoes off and lightly dropped her book bag on the floor. Softly, she padded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, its sterile light blinding her eyes. She reached in for the bottle of orange juice, screwed off the cap, and took a big swig.
"Your name is Hitomi."
Hitomi nearly choked, her eyes burning from the caustic juice in her windpipe. She spun around towards the kitchen table and saw the dark outline of a woman. The woman's arm slowly rose to the wall near the table and flicked the light switch. It took a moment for Hitomi's eyes to adjust to the brightness, her arm covering her eyes. She peeked over her elbow, expecting to find her mother waiting to scold her. But instead, it was her grandmother.
"Grandma!"
The feeble woman had a senescent beauty about her, with few wrinkles and thin streaks of silver in her braided hair. She had the same deep green eyes as Hitomi, yet they were softer, wiser. Her skinny arms opened as Hitomi rushed up to hug her.
In a warm voice, she uttered into Hitomi's hair, "I thought you would never get home, girl."
Hitomi blushed and plopped down beside her at the table, muttering, "If I would have known that you were visiting I would have hurried home right after school. Yukari and I-"
The old woman laughed and waved a hand at Hitomi, "It's all right, Hitomi. I'll tell your mother that you came home a few hours earlier. I didn't know I was coming either."
Hitomi looked perplexed. She asked, "What do you mean, grandma?"
The woman across from her folded her hands in her lap and looked at Hitomi, her face losing the friendliness it once had.
"I've come to talk to you about Gaea."
Hitomi sat very still. Her hand wished to race up to her chest to grasp at the phantom pendant, but she simply stared ahead at her grandmother. Somehow she knew, deep down, that she had been expecting this for a couple weeks.
"No matter what happens, Hitomi, no matter what sort of premonitions you have .. you must not go back to Gaea. There is a great danger lurking there that will surely .." the woman paused, frowning before continuing, "You simply mustn't."
Hitomi's opened her mouth, her lips working silently in surprise. Her grandmother leaned forward and grabbed her hands with a ferocity that shocked Hitomi.
"Hitomi, don't! Please tell me right now that you won't return," she said, her eyes glistening with moisture.
The girl shuddered quietly and lowered her head. What was happening in Gaea? And more importantly, what was happening to Van?
Softly, she said, "I don't know if I can make that promise, grandma. If Van needs me, I must go back."
Her grandmother's hands slowly slipped off of her own and she rose to her feet, looking down at Hitomi with tears in her eyes.
"I was afraid that you would say that, Hitomi. Come see me to the door, will you?"
In a daze, Hitomi stood and followed the little woman to the door. On the porch they stood, her grandmother shedding tears with a small smile that quivered on her face. She placed her bony hands on Hitomi's shoulders, gazing at her face as if to memorize it, before pulling her into a hug with a strength that was beyond her appearance.
"Grandma," Hitomi whispered, burying her face into her sweet-smelling hair.
"Remember .. your name is Hitomi. Don't ever forget that," her grandmother mumbled before letting her go.
Hitomi watched at the old woman walked down the steps to her bicycle near the lattice-arched gate. She mounted and rode off into the night, her worn face still wet with tears.
The girl placed her back against the doorjamb and slid down into an awkward seat. Later, she realized she hadn't even asked was what to come in the near future, and yet she accepted it fully.
****************************
The foreign guards surrounding the strange vessels regarded Drydan with a stiff silence. And still, Drydan flashed his best merchant's smile, promising a good deal no matter what the circumstances.
"Fine ships you have here. But just how do they work without levistones?"
The guards glanced between each other from behind cowled faces, then back to the conniving prince. In a single breath that shook both of their veils, they stated in synchronicity, "Kisharyn business is none of yours. Carry on."
Drydan muttered something inaudible. First, he wasn't allowed into the Fanelian palace despite his close relationship with the king, or what he had imagined was close. Apparently the king was too busy with foreign visitors to deal with the "common folk." He never remembered Van Fanel being this haughty. And now, he was spurned for being the simple, pleasant merchant that he was.
Drydan flicked his tinted spectacles over his eyes and sighed, saying, "Very well. I apologize for disturbing you."
He turned and walked back up the wooden ramps that led into the city, his earth-toned robe trailing after him. In passing, a beautiful dark-haired woman passed by him, her violet eyes lined in kohl. Following her were two guards who were identical to the ones he had spoken to, save their slightly more muscled stature. Drydan walked on, watching her from the corner of his eye. He had never seen her before, but he was positive from her regal air that she was the leader of this fleet.
Kishara, huh? If he remembered correctly, that desert area west of Zaibach had been under their control for at least fifty years. They had enslaved the people of that area and took advantage of the natural oil of the land, a must for the movement of guymelefs. Now, however, they had taken over the oil industry in their nation as well as Zaibach's, as according to the treaty among the nations that had battled against them. Over the past few years, they had grown to a wealthy country that could apparently afford the best of technological advancements, as well as adopting some of Emperor Dornkirk's secrets that the liberated slaves had brought home.
Drydan stewed over this information in a nearby tavern, clutching a steamy concoction under his nose that fogged up his dark glasses. He didn't particularly like the stuffiness of the Kisharyn, and he pictured them as a people that were way over their head in terms of political and economic advancement. Or perhaps it was just that they didn't want to share their secrets with the rest of the world? Oppression could do horrible things to people. He just hoped that they didn't turn into another Zaibach.
An incessant tapping broke his thoughts from the window beside his table. Looking to the side, he saw a cattish face smooshed on the window, a little clawed fingertip the cause of the annoyance.
Drydan jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Merle! Stay there!"
The cat girl stuck her tongue out on him and bounded down the busy street, leaving a smudge on the window where her face had once been. Drydan muttered a curse and ran out the door after her, the keeper of the establishment yelling after him.
"Damn sneak! I need her to get me into the palace," he huffed, dodging street shoppers and carts full of produce.
He chased after the flash of tan and pink that was sometimes accompanied by a taunting face in his direction. Before he knew it, they were dashing across the less crowded plaza that heralded the palace entrance. The swift cat girl hopped across the sandstone-bricked court, leaving Drydan stumbling just behind her. Fumbling over his own feet, he reached out to grab the striped tail waving in front of him .. but it quickly vanished from his line of sight when Merle leapt onto one of the two guymelefs guarding the palace gates. The face-plant he was recovering from had covered his face in tan dust, leaving him coughing and gawking up at the girl who leisurely cleaned her paws above.
"Merle, damn you! You have to get me into the palace," he spouted, rubbing the dust from his face.
The girl lifted one of her rear feet and scratched at an itch behind one of her catty ears. "Oh, get a life. Van-sama doesn't need a two-bit merchant like you bothering him!"
Drydan steamed with fury, a few curly strands of his hair awry from the jaunt. He wouldn't mind selling that girl to the highest bidder. Balling his fists, he boasted, "Your king needs all the help he can get, and I am the man to do it."
Merle's ears twitched, then drooped. She said something indistinguishable to the melef pilot who promptly opened the unembellished iron gates. It seemed that the Fanelian king's woes had drifted to one of his dearest friends. A sly smile hinted on his lips. His fortune was looking up.
* * *
Passing through the halls of the palace, Drydan observed that the practically unfurnished citadel had seen better days. At least Van is a just ruler how wouldn't squander his fortune on trivialities that would put his country into debt, he thought. Drydan had experienced that sort of wastefulness with his own father. Worse yet, he had spent most of his wealth not on exotic goods or metals, but on women. Drydan cringed inwardly. That man had no tact.
The merchant followed the pink-haired girl through sunlit gardens and dark corridors, eventually coming to an intricately carved double doorway. Drydan noticed the small winged figures that traipsed across the wood, elaborately detailed to the last down feather. At the center was Van's mother, a woman with solemn beauty that he had seen years ago in the Forbidden Lands. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.
Merle quietly opened one of the doors an inch, out spilling arguing voices into the otherwise silent hallway. "But your majesty! A binding alliance with the Kisharyn would ensure our safety and wealth-"
"Better yet, our empire would be spread out across the continent. Such an increase in land would give us the upper hand in wartime!"
Closing the door, Merle said, "They are still bickering. You'll have to wait to see him."
Drydan laid his hand on the door, stopping Merle. He stared blankly, paying close attention to what they were saying on the other side.
Van's familiar voice exploded out of the room, "I will not marry into a country I hardly know anything about! An alliance with Fanelia is the last thing they want, and I know it. I just don't trust the woman, this .. this Vivion."
Intense pain shot up Drydan's left leg, causing him to bellow at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he saw the cat girl flexing her clawed fingers at him, her eyes hard and mischievous. Before he could run from the surely disturbing scene, the wide doors swung open, nearly causing him to fall into the room they had barricaded.
Firey brown eyes regarded them both, much to Drydan's surprise. He had seen this cantankerous expression before on the young king, but what made it much more intimidating to Drydan was that the youth now looked him straight in the eye rather than a foot below him. Van had grown in more ways than one, for the presence of a well-toned strength emanated from beneath the etched silver armor he wore. Even on his chin was the hint of rough stubble.
"Van-sama! Drydan was listening in on you," Merle exclaimed, her cheeks coloring as she continued to explain, "But it is my fault that he got into the castle. I'm sorry, Van-sama."
The king glanced at Merle silently, then back to Drydan, his arms folding over his burnished chest. "And for what reason do I give thanks for this unexpected visit, Drydan?"
Drydan put his hands behind his head and laughed, not letting the cut from Van's sharp voice affect him. "Well, I just happened to know that you needed my expertise in your .. what do you call it .. economic position. Apparently you need my help in other places too," he said, pushing his tinted glasses up his nose in the process.
A scornful expression crossed Van's face. Three politicians with resentful eyes came to stand in the doorway behind Van, gazing at Drydan with as much annoyance as their king.
"The vagabond king has wandered this way, it seems. Perhaps we should ask his advice in this matter," mentioned the hawk-nosed Pelian, his palms rubbing together as if the act was a prayer to the gods for riches and fortune.
Van closed his mahogany eyes, stating, "Very well, Drydan. I am not one to cast my friends out onto the streets without a good reason. But make sure you keep your nose in Fanelian business and nothing else."
Drydan managed a light-hearted grin. He would be a tough egg to crack, that one. But the excitement of such a difficulty was just as enticing as the morals he had assigned to this task. Morals? The only moral here was the remembrance of loving companionship, for both him and Van.
Drydan sighed as he followed them into the room, leaving the steaming Merle behind. Sometimes, being a romantic was such a nuisance
P.S. fixed the transition problem [hopefully] .. apparently the times new roman line thingy doesn't convert. Asterisks aren't aesthetically pleasing to me .. but here goes. ^_^)
***********************************************************************
III. Moth to a Flame
Hitomi slowly crept through the doorway of her dark house, closing the door behind her without a sound. It was way past her curfew, which was ridiculous to her anyways, being eighteen and all. She slipped her shoes off and lightly dropped her book bag on the floor. Softly, she padded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, its sterile light blinding her eyes. She reached in for the bottle of orange juice, screwed off the cap, and took a big swig.
"Your name is Hitomi."
Hitomi nearly choked, her eyes burning from the caustic juice in her windpipe. She spun around towards the kitchen table and saw the dark outline of a woman. The woman's arm slowly rose to the wall near the table and flicked the light switch. It took a moment for Hitomi's eyes to adjust to the brightness, her arm covering her eyes. She peeked over her elbow, expecting to find her mother waiting to scold her. But instead, it was her grandmother.
"Grandma!"
The feeble woman had a senescent beauty about her, with few wrinkles and thin streaks of silver in her braided hair. She had the same deep green eyes as Hitomi, yet they were softer, wiser. Her skinny arms opened as Hitomi rushed up to hug her.
In a warm voice, she uttered into Hitomi's hair, "I thought you would never get home, girl."
Hitomi blushed and plopped down beside her at the table, muttering, "If I would have known that you were visiting I would have hurried home right after school. Yukari and I-"
The old woman laughed and waved a hand at Hitomi, "It's all right, Hitomi. I'll tell your mother that you came home a few hours earlier. I didn't know I was coming either."
Hitomi looked perplexed. She asked, "What do you mean, grandma?"
The woman across from her folded her hands in her lap and looked at Hitomi, her face losing the friendliness it once had.
"I've come to talk to you about Gaea."
Hitomi sat very still. Her hand wished to race up to her chest to grasp at the phantom pendant, but she simply stared ahead at her grandmother. Somehow she knew, deep down, that she had been expecting this for a couple weeks.
"No matter what happens, Hitomi, no matter what sort of premonitions you have .. you must not go back to Gaea. There is a great danger lurking there that will surely .." the woman paused, frowning before continuing, "You simply mustn't."
Hitomi's opened her mouth, her lips working silently in surprise. Her grandmother leaned forward and grabbed her hands with a ferocity that shocked Hitomi.
"Hitomi, don't! Please tell me right now that you won't return," she said, her eyes glistening with moisture.
The girl shuddered quietly and lowered her head. What was happening in Gaea? And more importantly, what was happening to Van?
Softly, she said, "I don't know if I can make that promise, grandma. If Van needs me, I must go back."
Her grandmother's hands slowly slipped off of her own and she rose to her feet, looking down at Hitomi with tears in her eyes.
"I was afraid that you would say that, Hitomi. Come see me to the door, will you?"
In a daze, Hitomi stood and followed the little woman to the door. On the porch they stood, her grandmother shedding tears with a small smile that quivered on her face. She placed her bony hands on Hitomi's shoulders, gazing at her face as if to memorize it, before pulling her into a hug with a strength that was beyond her appearance.
"Grandma," Hitomi whispered, burying her face into her sweet-smelling hair.
"Remember .. your name is Hitomi. Don't ever forget that," her grandmother mumbled before letting her go.
Hitomi watched at the old woman walked down the steps to her bicycle near the lattice-arched gate. She mounted and rode off into the night, her worn face still wet with tears.
The girl placed her back against the doorjamb and slid down into an awkward seat. Later, she realized she hadn't even asked was what to come in the near future, and yet she accepted it fully.
****************************
The foreign guards surrounding the strange vessels regarded Drydan with a stiff silence. And still, Drydan flashed his best merchant's smile, promising a good deal no matter what the circumstances.
"Fine ships you have here. But just how do they work without levistones?"
The guards glanced between each other from behind cowled faces, then back to the conniving prince. In a single breath that shook both of their veils, they stated in synchronicity, "Kisharyn business is none of yours. Carry on."
Drydan muttered something inaudible. First, he wasn't allowed into the Fanelian palace despite his close relationship with the king, or what he had imagined was close. Apparently the king was too busy with foreign visitors to deal with the "common folk." He never remembered Van Fanel being this haughty. And now, he was spurned for being the simple, pleasant merchant that he was.
Drydan flicked his tinted spectacles over his eyes and sighed, saying, "Very well. I apologize for disturbing you."
He turned and walked back up the wooden ramps that led into the city, his earth-toned robe trailing after him. In passing, a beautiful dark-haired woman passed by him, her violet eyes lined in kohl. Following her were two guards who were identical to the ones he had spoken to, save their slightly more muscled stature. Drydan walked on, watching her from the corner of his eye. He had never seen her before, but he was positive from her regal air that she was the leader of this fleet.
Kishara, huh? If he remembered correctly, that desert area west of Zaibach had been under their control for at least fifty years. They had enslaved the people of that area and took advantage of the natural oil of the land, a must for the movement of guymelefs. Now, however, they had taken over the oil industry in their nation as well as Zaibach's, as according to the treaty among the nations that had battled against them. Over the past few years, they had grown to a wealthy country that could apparently afford the best of technological advancements, as well as adopting some of Emperor Dornkirk's secrets that the liberated slaves had brought home.
Drydan stewed over this information in a nearby tavern, clutching a steamy concoction under his nose that fogged up his dark glasses. He didn't particularly like the stuffiness of the Kisharyn, and he pictured them as a people that were way over their head in terms of political and economic advancement. Or perhaps it was just that they didn't want to share their secrets with the rest of the world? Oppression could do horrible things to people. He just hoped that they didn't turn into another Zaibach.
An incessant tapping broke his thoughts from the window beside his table. Looking to the side, he saw a cattish face smooshed on the window, a little clawed fingertip the cause of the annoyance.
Drydan jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "Merle! Stay there!"
The cat girl stuck her tongue out on him and bounded down the busy street, leaving a smudge on the window where her face had once been. Drydan muttered a curse and ran out the door after her, the keeper of the establishment yelling after him.
"Damn sneak! I need her to get me into the palace," he huffed, dodging street shoppers and carts full of produce.
He chased after the flash of tan and pink that was sometimes accompanied by a taunting face in his direction. Before he knew it, they were dashing across the less crowded plaza that heralded the palace entrance. The swift cat girl hopped across the sandstone-bricked court, leaving Drydan stumbling just behind her. Fumbling over his own feet, he reached out to grab the striped tail waving in front of him .. but it quickly vanished from his line of sight when Merle leapt onto one of the two guymelefs guarding the palace gates. The face-plant he was recovering from had covered his face in tan dust, leaving him coughing and gawking up at the girl who leisurely cleaned her paws above.
"Merle, damn you! You have to get me into the palace," he spouted, rubbing the dust from his face.
The girl lifted one of her rear feet and scratched at an itch behind one of her catty ears. "Oh, get a life. Van-sama doesn't need a two-bit merchant like you bothering him!"
Drydan steamed with fury, a few curly strands of his hair awry from the jaunt. He wouldn't mind selling that girl to the highest bidder. Balling his fists, he boasted, "Your king needs all the help he can get, and I am the man to do it."
Merle's ears twitched, then drooped. She said something indistinguishable to the melef pilot who promptly opened the unembellished iron gates. It seemed that the Fanelian king's woes had drifted to one of his dearest friends. A sly smile hinted on his lips. His fortune was looking up.
* * *
Passing through the halls of the palace, Drydan observed that the practically unfurnished citadel had seen better days. At least Van is a just ruler how wouldn't squander his fortune on trivialities that would put his country into debt, he thought. Drydan had experienced that sort of wastefulness with his own father. Worse yet, he had spent most of his wealth not on exotic goods or metals, but on women. Drydan cringed inwardly. That man had no tact.
The merchant followed the pink-haired girl through sunlit gardens and dark corridors, eventually coming to an intricately carved double doorway. Drydan noticed the small winged figures that traipsed across the wood, elaborately detailed to the last down feather. At the center was Van's mother, a woman with solemn beauty that he had seen years ago in the Forbidden Lands. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.
Merle quietly opened one of the doors an inch, out spilling arguing voices into the otherwise silent hallway. "But your majesty! A binding alliance with the Kisharyn would ensure our safety and wealth-"
"Better yet, our empire would be spread out across the continent. Such an increase in land would give us the upper hand in wartime!"
Closing the door, Merle said, "They are still bickering. You'll have to wait to see him."
Drydan laid his hand on the door, stopping Merle. He stared blankly, paying close attention to what they were saying on the other side.
Van's familiar voice exploded out of the room, "I will not marry into a country I hardly know anything about! An alliance with Fanelia is the last thing they want, and I know it. I just don't trust the woman, this .. this Vivion."
Intense pain shot up Drydan's left leg, causing him to bellow at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he saw the cat girl flexing her clawed fingers at him, her eyes hard and mischievous. Before he could run from the surely disturbing scene, the wide doors swung open, nearly causing him to fall into the room they had barricaded.
Firey brown eyes regarded them both, much to Drydan's surprise. He had seen this cantankerous expression before on the young king, but what made it much more intimidating to Drydan was that the youth now looked him straight in the eye rather than a foot below him. Van had grown in more ways than one, for the presence of a well-toned strength emanated from beneath the etched silver armor he wore. Even on his chin was the hint of rough stubble.
"Van-sama! Drydan was listening in on you," Merle exclaimed, her cheeks coloring as she continued to explain, "But it is my fault that he got into the castle. I'm sorry, Van-sama."
The king glanced at Merle silently, then back to Drydan, his arms folding over his burnished chest. "And for what reason do I give thanks for this unexpected visit, Drydan?"
Drydan put his hands behind his head and laughed, not letting the cut from Van's sharp voice affect him. "Well, I just happened to know that you needed my expertise in your .. what do you call it .. economic position. Apparently you need my help in other places too," he said, pushing his tinted glasses up his nose in the process.
A scornful expression crossed Van's face. Three politicians with resentful eyes came to stand in the doorway behind Van, gazing at Drydan with as much annoyance as their king.
"The vagabond king has wandered this way, it seems. Perhaps we should ask his advice in this matter," mentioned the hawk-nosed Pelian, his palms rubbing together as if the act was a prayer to the gods for riches and fortune.
Van closed his mahogany eyes, stating, "Very well, Drydan. I am not one to cast my friends out onto the streets without a good reason. But make sure you keep your nose in Fanelian business and nothing else."
Drydan managed a light-hearted grin. He would be a tough egg to crack, that one. But the excitement of such a difficulty was just as enticing as the morals he had assigned to this task. Morals? The only moral here was the remembrance of loving companionship, for both him and Van.
Drydan sighed as he followed them into the room, leaving the steaming Merle behind. Sometimes, being a romantic was such a nuisance
