Eiada sat silently in the windowseat, staring at the street below. It had
rained while she was in the shower, and now the buildings were wet, water
running through the streets in pearly, gas-lit trails. The crack of sky
Eiada could see above the building across the street was dark, ashy black.
Someone rolled over in one of the three beds behind her. Tiny beds, jammed together to save space in a room too small for four people. After a moments consideration, she opened the window a crack then, defying protocol, turned to watch the sleepers.
It was Arin who had rolled over, it seemed. He lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm trailing down into the six-inch gap between his bed and Roens. The tiny frown in the corner of his mouth made Eiada smile. Feeling self- indulgent, she turned back to the window. She had volunteered for the first watch, she reminded herself. She had to take it seriously, no matter how tired she was.
A pair of young women, arm in arm, walked by below, laughing. From the second story, Eiada felt rude, intrusive, like a capricious spirit watching from above. (Just as untouchable, as invisible as a spirit.) Her thoughts had begun to wane.
The women were gone, as were her thoughts of duty and protocol. Stray fragments of thought tumbled in and out of her skull like smoke, tiny wisps of darkness and regret that melted and turned pale in the overwarm room. She was nearly dozing.
(Screw it.) She wanted to leave, to fall asleep there on the hard cushion, to let her tired brain and heavy heart weigh down a pillow, not her thoughts.
Another couple walked by, a man and a woman now. Eiada felt guilty about watching, but had nothing else to do. Each of them wore heavy coats and pants, their breath streaming out in front of them.
She stared as they stopped under a streetlight to kiss carefully. It had begun to rain again and they broke apart, laughing, and dashed down the street. In the warm, dry room above the ground, Eiada felt a pang behind her lungs.
The street was empty again. She felt pretty empty herself. A combination of exhaustion and loneliness had set itself deep behind her heart, filling her core with cool water. A familiar longing tugged around her ribs. She would give damn near anything to laugh in the rain under a streetlight.
(.Forget.) she commanded herself halfheartedly. (Forget.)
Like there was anything to forget in the first place.
Her eyes slid closed. She woke up when her forehead came into contact with the cold glass of the windowpane, shocking adrenaline and ice into her system. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes.
Taking one last look at the street, she decided there weren't any Galbadian soldiers lying in wait for her to leave the window and thirty seconds could be spared getting a glass of water. Standing awkwardly, she tiptoed in her socks across the cool carpet, squeezing between the bureau and the three beds and praying she didn't fall on all three of them.
She didn't bother turning the light on in the bathroom- she could see well enough with the lights coming off the street to find the glass and the faucet tap. She turned the water on slowly to keep from making too much noise. Bending over the sink, she thought she heard something- faint as a breath of air, a brush of sound from out in the bedroom.
"Stop-"
She turned, dropping her shoulders and bending her knees, preparing to throw herself forward, behind the protective cover of the beds if necessary. Apparently someone had decided to utilize those free thirty seconds.
Nothing moved in the bedroom. Eiada relaxed, swore under her breath. (I need to find some medium between paranoid and depressed.) Looking over the sleeping figures, she shook her head tiredly. (Probably someone talking in his sleep.)
Taking her glass of water, she edged back into the main room. Taking a superstitious glance around, she checked the digital clock. Just past midnight. A shiver dragged cold fingernails up her spine. It was probably based in her seafaring roots- or her Uncle Wage had taught her all his superstition. (The witching hour,) she thought nervously, still staring at the clock. It was probably living on Dock Row down in Winhill- she'd seen sailors hardened twenty years on the sea sacrifice a handful of their own hair for a good wind in their sails. She didn't know if she believed in their superstitions or not. Better safe than sorry, she'd always thought.
Of course, believing in a world that could be influenced by hair and hope and intention opened up possibilities for being sorry that the average Garden student didn't have to worry about. Memories of her Uncle's hands making shadow puppets on the wall in the shapes of demons, angry elementals, and unsettled ghosts played across her mind. She swallowed hard, sat back down on the windowseat. She was just tired enough to see ghosts, real or imaginary, waiting with grasping hands in every corner.
"Hey." A warm breath crossed her ear.
Eiada jumped about six feet in the air, stifling her shriek with both hands. Roen stared back, looking faintly surprised, as she whirled to face him.
"Hyne, Roen, you scared the crap out of me!"
"Sorry," he replied, voice rough with sleep. "I thought you'd heard me."
"No, I didn't," she snapped, then calmed. "Sorry. I just- you scared me."
"So I hear." He smiled faintly. "Anyway, I'm ready to take your watch."
Eiada glanced at the clock, raised an eyebrow. "But- yours doesn't start for another hour."
He followed her gaze to the red digital numbers glaring across the room, nodded. Was he blushing? In the darkness, it was hard to tell. "I know. I- I'm not tired, is all."
Eiada put two and two together. (Someone talking in their sleep plus Roen awake and maybe embarrassed-) "Bad dream?"
He snorted self-mockingly, shrugged.
"What about?"
"Nothing. Not important."
"Ooookay." She tried a smile. "Care to join the windowseat party?"
"Sure." He hoisted himself up on the tough cushion beside her, stared out over the street.
There was a moment of fairly awkward silence.
It was funny- in a situation as innocuous as a time-passing conversation, words deserted her entirely. She had a sudden, fierce longing to be facing down Galbadian soldiers on the beach again. She'd known what to say then.
"So, I guess I should thank you for waking up," Eiada managed after a panicked moment. "For waking me up, really. I was almost asleep there."
"Oh-" he glanced up. "Sure, I guess. This is, uh-" he gestured out at the street. "-pretty boring, huh?"
Eiada snorted. "Yeah. I'm glad I took first watch- this'll put me right to sleep."
Roen didn't seem to hear, still staring at the rain-glazed street. "Better boring than the alternative."
Eiada bit her lower lip, sobering. "Yeah, I guess. Hey-" she snapped to get his attention. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied in a tone she knew all too well. The tell-them-what- they-want-to-hear-because-I-don't-want-to-answer tone.
"No, really," she pressed. "It's gotta be more interesting than watching this damn street all night."
He smiled halfheartedly. "It's- I dunno. I kind of miss the nightmare."
"Why?"
He glanced back over his shoulder, into the darkened room. "Because I always know I can wake up from a nightmare."
It was amazing, how one sentence could change the entire tone of a conversation. All of a sudden, her light time-passing banter had become something much more serious.
"Are you afraid?" The question was stupid, and entirely too personal, from her point of view, to ask someone she'd just met that morning. (Hyne- was it this morning? It feels like years ago.)
Roen's face changed, and Eiada prepared herself for an indignant denial or laughter, some expression of wasted bravado. "Yeah," he finally said, leaning against the window a little. "But I'm not sure what of." He looked at her. The only expression she could read off his face was faintly quizzical. "Are you?"
Eiada looked out over the street, remembering ghosts and boats and laughing couples.
"You bet."
"Of?"
She shrugged. "Not getting home again. Getting caught. Dying."
"Everyone's afraid of dying."
(I didn't use to be,) she thought glumly. (I never had to worry about it.) "I dunno. I keep telling myself that full SeeDs go through this, too. This is why the whole MIA acronym was made up. But then this little voice goes-"
"'You're not a full SeeD yet!'" He finished. "I think I know what you mean."
She smiled halfheartedly. "I know. And I know we're done with the training and everything, so there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to get along as well as any SeeD on their first mission, but this kind of shit isn't supposed to happen on the first mission! We're supposed to stay in the rear, pick up the pieces of everyone else's fight, you know?"
Roen shrugged. "I know how you feel. I feel the same way. But when I start getting depressed, I tell myself- 'it did happen, there's no way around it, so we have to cope.'"
Eiada turned to look at him. His blue-green eyes seemed perfectly calm, and perfectly honest. Genuine. She swallowed. "You're right, I know. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else before I could start to believe it."
He gave her a small smile. "By my way of thinking, admitting how bad it really is is just setting yourself up to fail. Sometimes all you have is hope."
"And bullheadedness."
He laughed. "That, too. Need lots of that." His eyes moved to the clock on the bureau. "Your watch is over."
Taking the hint, she stood carefully on stiff legs. "And I am definitely ready for bed."
"Night, Eiada."
"Night." Peeling the towel off her head, she slipped into the bed in her robe. It was warm and dark and she felt her conciousness slipping down into the cracks and crevices of her brain to hide. The pillow smelled like shampoo and spice, reminding her that someone else had slept in her bed.
"Roen?"
She heard him look up from the window. "Hm?"
The words dragged out from a long way away. "Thanks. for th' pep talk."
He chuckled again. Her last thought was that he had a really nice laugh. "Good night, Eiada."
Someone rolled over in one of the three beds behind her. Tiny beds, jammed together to save space in a room too small for four people. After a moments consideration, she opened the window a crack then, defying protocol, turned to watch the sleepers.
It was Arin who had rolled over, it seemed. He lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm trailing down into the six-inch gap between his bed and Roens. The tiny frown in the corner of his mouth made Eiada smile. Feeling self- indulgent, she turned back to the window. She had volunteered for the first watch, she reminded herself. She had to take it seriously, no matter how tired she was.
A pair of young women, arm in arm, walked by below, laughing. From the second story, Eiada felt rude, intrusive, like a capricious spirit watching from above. (Just as untouchable, as invisible as a spirit.) Her thoughts had begun to wane.
The women were gone, as were her thoughts of duty and protocol. Stray fragments of thought tumbled in and out of her skull like smoke, tiny wisps of darkness and regret that melted and turned pale in the overwarm room. She was nearly dozing.
(Screw it.) She wanted to leave, to fall asleep there on the hard cushion, to let her tired brain and heavy heart weigh down a pillow, not her thoughts.
Another couple walked by, a man and a woman now. Eiada felt guilty about watching, but had nothing else to do. Each of them wore heavy coats and pants, their breath streaming out in front of them.
She stared as they stopped under a streetlight to kiss carefully. It had begun to rain again and they broke apart, laughing, and dashed down the street. In the warm, dry room above the ground, Eiada felt a pang behind her lungs.
The street was empty again. She felt pretty empty herself. A combination of exhaustion and loneliness had set itself deep behind her heart, filling her core with cool water. A familiar longing tugged around her ribs. She would give damn near anything to laugh in the rain under a streetlight.
(.Forget.) she commanded herself halfheartedly. (Forget.)
Like there was anything to forget in the first place.
Her eyes slid closed. She woke up when her forehead came into contact with the cold glass of the windowpane, shocking adrenaline and ice into her system. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes.
Taking one last look at the street, she decided there weren't any Galbadian soldiers lying in wait for her to leave the window and thirty seconds could be spared getting a glass of water. Standing awkwardly, she tiptoed in her socks across the cool carpet, squeezing between the bureau and the three beds and praying she didn't fall on all three of them.
She didn't bother turning the light on in the bathroom- she could see well enough with the lights coming off the street to find the glass and the faucet tap. She turned the water on slowly to keep from making too much noise. Bending over the sink, she thought she heard something- faint as a breath of air, a brush of sound from out in the bedroom.
"Stop-"
She turned, dropping her shoulders and bending her knees, preparing to throw herself forward, behind the protective cover of the beds if necessary. Apparently someone had decided to utilize those free thirty seconds.
Nothing moved in the bedroom. Eiada relaxed, swore under her breath. (I need to find some medium between paranoid and depressed.) Looking over the sleeping figures, she shook her head tiredly. (Probably someone talking in his sleep.)
Taking her glass of water, she edged back into the main room. Taking a superstitious glance around, she checked the digital clock. Just past midnight. A shiver dragged cold fingernails up her spine. It was probably based in her seafaring roots- or her Uncle Wage had taught her all his superstition. (The witching hour,) she thought nervously, still staring at the clock. It was probably living on Dock Row down in Winhill- she'd seen sailors hardened twenty years on the sea sacrifice a handful of their own hair for a good wind in their sails. She didn't know if she believed in their superstitions or not. Better safe than sorry, she'd always thought.
Of course, believing in a world that could be influenced by hair and hope and intention opened up possibilities for being sorry that the average Garden student didn't have to worry about. Memories of her Uncle's hands making shadow puppets on the wall in the shapes of demons, angry elementals, and unsettled ghosts played across her mind. She swallowed hard, sat back down on the windowseat. She was just tired enough to see ghosts, real or imaginary, waiting with grasping hands in every corner.
"Hey." A warm breath crossed her ear.
Eiada jumped about six feet in the air, stifling her shriek with both hands. Roen stared back, looking faintly surprised, as she whirled to face him.
"Hyne, Roen, you scared the crap out of me!"
"Sorry," he replied, voice rough with sleep. "I thought you'd heard me."
"No, I didn't," she snapped, then calmed. "Sorry. I just- you scared me."
"So I hear." He smiled faintly. "Anyway, I'm ready to take your watch."
Eiada glanced at the clock, raised an eyebrow. "But- yours doesn't start for another hour."
He followed her gaze to the red digital numbers glaring across the room, nodded. Was he blushing? In the darkness, it was hard to tell. "I know. I- I'm not tired, is all."
Eiada put two and two together. (Someone talking in their sleep plus Roen awake and maybe embarrassed-) "Bad dream?"
He snorted self-mockingly, shrugged.
"What about?"
"Nothing. Not important."
"Ooookay." She tried a smile. "Care to join the windowseat party?"
"Sure." He hoisted himself up on the tough cushion beside her, stared out over the street.
There was a moment of fairly awkward silence.
It was funny- in a situation as innocuous as a time-passing conversation, words deserted her entirely. She had a sudden, fierce longing to be facing down Galbadian soldiers on the beach again. She'd known what to say then.
"So, I guess I should thank you for waking up," Eiada managed after a panicked moment. "For waking me up, really. I was almost asleep there."
"Oh-" he glanced up. "Sure, I guess. This is, uh-" he gestured out at the street. "-pretty boring, huh?"
Eiada snorted. "Yeah. I'm glad I took first watch- this'll put me right to sleep."
Roen didn't seem to hear, still staring at the rain-glazed street. "Better boring than the alternative."
Eiada bit her lower lip, sobering. "Yeah, I guess. Hey-" she snapped to get his attention. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied in a tone she knew all too well. The tell-them-what- they-want-to-hear-because-I-don't-want-to-answer tone.
"No, really," she pressed. "It's gotta be more interesting than watching this damn street all night."
He smiled halfheartedly. "It's- I dunno. I kind of miss the nightmare."
"Why?"
He glanced back over his shoulder, into the darkened room. "Because I always know I can wake up from a nightmare."
It was amazing, how one sentence could change the entire tone of a conversation. All of a sudden, her light time-passing banter had become something much more serious.
"Are you afraid?" The question was stupid, and entirely too personal, from her point of view, to ask someone she'd just met that morning. (Hyne- was it this morning? It feels like years ago.)
Roen's face changed, and Eiada prepared herself for an indignant denial or laughter, some expression of wasted bravado. "Yeah," he finally said, leaning against the window a little. "But I'm not sure what of." He looked at her. The only expression she could read off his face was faintly quizzical. "Are you?"
Eiada looked out over the street, remembering ghosts and boats and laughing couples.
"You bet."
"Of?"
She shrugged. "Not getting home again. Getting caught. Dying."
"Everyone's afraid of dying."
(I didn't use to be,) she thought glumly. (I never had to worry about it.) "I dunno. I keep telling myself that full SeeDs go through this, too. This is why the whole MIA acronym was made up. But then this little voice goes-"
"'You're not a full SeeD yet!'" He finished. "I think I know what you mean."
She smiled halfheartedly. "I know. And I know we're done with the training and everything, so there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to get along as well as any SeeD on their first mission, but this kind of shit isn't supposed to happen on the first mission! We're supposed to stay in the rear, pick up the pieces of everyone else's fight, you know?"
Roen shrugged. "I know how you feel. I feel the same way. But when I start getting depressed, I tell myself- 'it did happen, there's no way around it, so we have to cope.'"
Eiada turned to look at him. His blue-green eyes seemed perfectly calm, and perfectly honest. Genuine. She swallowed. "You're right, I know. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else before I could start to believe it."
He gave her a small smile. "By my way of thinking, admitting how bad it really is is just setting yourself up to fail. Sometimes all you have is hope."
"And bullheadedness."
He laughed. "That, too. Need lots of that." His eyes moved to the clock on the bureau. "Your watch is over."
Taking the hint, she stood carefully on stiff legs. "And I am definitely ready for bed."
"Night, Eiada."
"Night." Peeling the towel off her head, she slipped into the bed in her robe. It was warm and dark and she felt her conciousness slipping down into the cracks and crevices of her brain to hide. The pillow smelled like shampoo and spice, reminding her that someone else had slept in her bed.
"Roen?"
She heard him look up from the window. "Hm?"
The words dragged out from a long way away. "Thanks. for th' pep talk."
He chuckled again. Her last thought was that he had a really nice laugh. "Good night, Eiada."