The Day the Moon Shines
By: deep.Indigo

Chapter 16: Sora ha Hateshinai, Kokoro no Kagami Dakara ne
(The Sky is Endless, Because It's a Mirror of My Heart, Right?)
*This chapter rated R for language






He had never seen anything so beautiful. Petals from all the loveliest flowers in the world were in the air, falling like snow, blowing in the breeze around him like a spring storm. As he walked, smiling and gazing around him in wonder, they danced, and a sound like peaceful music or children's laughter surrounded him. It was amazing. It was breathtaking. He kept journeying forward, and the flowerstorm eventually gave way when he found himself at the foot of a tree. It was a spectacular tree, lush with pink flowers so pale they were almost white, and the blossoms were fluttering from the branches and to the ground, as if the tree were carpeting the world with its fragile bloom. With a small laugh, he walked up to the tree and, gazing up at its boughs, gently touched its trunk. There was such an aura of peace here, as if there was nothing bad or hurtful anymore, as if anyone who reached this place could know tranquility, no matter who or what they were...

He took a step backwards, and almost stumbled. Glancing at his feet, he noticed something he hadn't seen while beholding the tree's delicate pink blossoms—there was a mound at the tree's roots. There were several of them, actually. They were perhaps two and a half feet wide, and over twice as long. He knelt to give them a closer look, and when he gently scraped away a thin layer of petals and soil, he somehow realized it.

These were graves.

Vyse stood abruptly, filled with alarm in spite of the atmosphere of serenity around this place. Death was death, after all, no matter what its feel, and he certainly didn't want to hang out where corpses rested. He turned away from the tree and ran, and ran, and ran, the calm becoming replaced by misery, the light and warmth becoming replaced by dark and cold, and when he finally stopped and turned around, the tree was far away, atop a hill still surrounded by rays of sunlight. He, however, was underneath an overcast sky, and with a morose rumble, a tear-like shower began to fall, creating a misty rain that permeated his skin, clothes and hair. It was wholly depressing, and the Blue Rogue stood there for a long time, looking at the death-tree while standing still under the rainclouds.

"You were there," someone said quietly. Vyse glanced to his left, and Ramirez was there, also gazing at the tree atop the hill. "You got close enough to touch it."

Vyse didn't answer. He didn't know what to say.

Ramirez switched his gaze to the brunet rogue, and though he was smiling, his green eyes were filled with an acute sadness. "I want to go there," he said. "It always rains here. I'm always cold here. I'm always alone here."

"Ramirez..." the Blue Rogue murmured, turning to face his companion. "Ramirez, hey, I'm here now. You're not alone anymore."

The damp Silvite laughed a soft laugh and raised a hand to touch Vyse's scar. The rogue flinched and almost took a step backward, but he stood his ground, and Ramirez stroked his cheek lightly. "You say these things that you don't mean... We really are a lot alike, Vyse. I stand close to you and pretend not to care about you when I really love you... You stand close to me and pretend to love me when you really don't care."

"That's not true," the Blue Rogue argued, taking a step closer. Ramirez moved backwards a step in turn, and he continued, "I care about you a lot, Rami. But...but it's hard, sometimes. You hurt me."

"You hurt me too," Ramirez replied, his voice surprisingly tender. "Without even realizing it, you hurt me too..."

"I..." Vyse whispered, the rain plastering his bangs to his face.

The Silvite raised his other hand, his left hand, and cupped Vyse's face between it and the one stroking his scar. "But it's all right," he said. "It's all...all right. Will you just...do me one favor, though?"

Dread welling in his heart, the Air Pirate asked, "What?"

Somehow, he couldn't take his eyes off of Ramirez's lips as they formed the words, "Please, kill me."

"...I—I can't," Vyse choked, feeling paralyzed. "I can't—kill you..."

"Why?"

"I—I just," he managed to say, "can't."

The former Admiral didn't stop smiling, but something about him grew profoundly sadder, so much so that it was palpable, even to the Blue Rogue. Vyse reached out hesitantly to take Ramirez in his arms, but his limbs froze partway, and he stood there, a statue of uncertainty as his brown eyes gazed down at the Silvite's pale, wet face.

Around them, a roll of thunder rumbled, and a flash of lightning branched in the sky shortly afterwards. The rainfall intensified, and Ramirez stepped forward, sliding his arms around Vyse's neck and leaning his body against his chest. "Kill me," he whispered, sliding his head onto the rogue's shoulder, his lips on his neck. "Please, kill me..."

Vyse's arms were still frozen, halfway to embracing the Silvite who clung to him. But fear held him, and he couldn't move at all, either forward or back. "I can't," he whispered in return, turning his brown eyes to the sobbing heavens. "Don't ask this of me..."

Ramirez took a step backward, his arms still hooked around the pirate's neck, and softly said, "I want you to kill me, Vyse. Please... Living on is too absurd. At the very least, I want to die by your hand."

"No!" the handsome brunet shouted, his exclamation strengthened by a thunderclap and then a quick flash of lightning. "I won't! I won't do it!!"

"Please...take me to that tree," he pleaded. "I don't care how you do it, but please..."

"NO!" Vyse screamed, now pushing him away, sending him stumbling back.

The Silvite righted himself quickly, and stared at the rogue blankly. "If you won't take me," he said, "then I suppose I have no choice but to go myself."

And with that, he broke into a sprint for the distant tree.

The action was so sudden, that Vyse was left standing, dumbfounded, for several seconds before he picked up the slack and chased after Ramirez with all his strength, losing some of his momentum when he screamed, "WAIT!!"

Ramirez of course did not wait. He ran and ran and ran, and Vyse ran and ran and ran after him, until they both reached the tree of death, completely dry. The former Admiral spun around, drawing his silver sword as he did so, and lunged for the Air Pirate. Vyse, out of instinct, drew his cutlasses and parried. One highly skilled blade attacked two lesser skilled blades, and there was a brief scuffle before Ramirez took three quick steps backwards, drawing Vyse in.

The Blue Rogue took the bait and followed. Their swords met again in a brilliant clash, and the young Silvite retreated again, his back to the tree. Vyse moved forward—and tripped on one of the mounds, his right cutlass pointing straight out as he stumbled.

It struck home powerfully, embedding itself through Ramirez's chest and pinning him to the lovely tree behind him. There was a magnificent spray of blood, which rained down on both of them, and it seeped into the ground beneath them. The blossoms turned a more vibrant hue of pink as the roots drank in the crimson liquid, and Vyse watched the spectacle with mounting horror.

He stared up at Ramirez, who gazed back at him lovingly and reached out his hands to touch Vyse's.

"I—I—I didn't mean it," the Blue Rogue croaked, accepting the touch desperately. "I didn't mean it!!"

The silver-haired man smiled warmly and lifted their hands. "Thank you," he whispered. And then he closed his eyes, and his head tilted toward his shoulder, both of which sagged along with his arms.

"No," the rogue denied with a shake of his head. "Hey..." He shook Ramirez's relaxed shoulders. "This—this isn't funny, okay? Open your eyes!" Vyse tried to ignore the nausea that was threatening to rise up his throat, and he grabbed the hilt of his cutlass and pulled fiercely. It stayed where it was; it was as if the tree had grabbed hold of it and refused to let go.

Death was like that. It had embraced Ramirez...and Ramirez, accepting Vyse's rejection, had embraced it back.

"This...isn't...fair," Vyse whispered, as if the Silvite could still hear him. "How can one person be so important that you can't live without them? It's not right! You shouldn't be so dependent! You shouldn't...you shouldn't...oh, Moons..."

He covered his mouth with one hand as he retched, squeezing his eyes tight to ward off tears. Vyse leaned forward, and he noticed that Ramirez smelled of the tiny pink flowers surrounding them. It was a divine scent; it made him feel sicker.

"Please...don't die..." Vyse begged. The only reply was a soft breeze that brushed through Ramirez's hair, stroking it upwards and lifting the petals into the heavens. The bloodied rogue looked sharply up after them, as they climbed into the firmament. The sky was so clear, so blue; it was like looking into another world, perhaps the next world...and the pale pink petals that flew on the zephyr into that infinite azure were like tiny spirits journeying to that happier place. It was all so peaceful, as if those suffering from the affliction called "life" were at long last free.

Vyse stepped back from the tree and dropped his gaze back down to Ramirez, who still smiled serenely, his previous melancholy having vanished. His face...it was of one that was finally seeing the end of a bad dream.

He had never seen anything so beautiful.

He had never seen anything so horrible.

Vyse's eyelids flew open, and almost wildly, he flung off the blanket covering him, not yet lucid enough to wonder why it had been there in the first place. He looked around frantically, and when he didn't see his silver-haired companion, his fear intensified.

"Ramirez?!" he shouted, getting to his feet.

"Over here," his companion's quiet voice sounded from the other side of the crates, and in a flood of relief, the Blue Rogue quickly stepped out from behind them.

"I just wanted to see where you—" he began, but he abruptly broke off in amazement as he saw not just Ramirez, but Miran and Arianne, the former of whom was glaring balefully at Ramirez, who returned the gaze but not its intensity, and the latter of whom was glancing between the two men fretfully.

Suddenly, it occurred to Vyse exactly why there was a piano in the cargo hold. It also occurred to him to wonder why he hadn't realized it sooner.



"I, too..." Ramirez replied evenly, raising his sword in front of his chest, "am quite taken aback to see you." And with that, he very deliberately dropped his weapon.

Miran's eyebrows went up in surprise and puzzlement. "What're you playing at?" he demanded suspiciously, not withdrawing his weapons but not moving to attack. There was no satisfaction in getting revenge against someone who didn't fight back, after all.

"If you wish to kill me, by all means, do so," the former Admiral said blandly. "You'll be doing my former employers a favor. In all honesty, I am quite happy to give you my life. But in return for dying without a fuss, I have a small request."

"What the hell makes you think I'd listen to any request of yours?" the ex-rebel snarled, narrowing his dark eyes, though his curiosity was sparked by the swordsman's use of 'former employers'. /Not that anything he says is worth trusting, but his story might be amusing,/ Miran thought with macabre mirth.

Ramirez held up his hands, palms flat in a gesture of surrender. "I said that it's a small thing, and I don't think you'll find it disagreeable," he said, still blandly. "I stole aboard your boat along with Vyse—the brown-haired Air Pirate who interfered with our fight last time we met," he added for clarification. "Aside from keeping you from killing me, he has borne you no grudge. If you could take him as far as Crescent Isle, which is to the north of Nasrad, then kill me as much as you like. But do it quickly, if you please; Vyse is asleep now, but I don't know for how long. If he sees you threatening my life, he'll be sure to try to stop you."

"I'll kill you at my own pace, you bastard, and if Vyse interferes, I'll kill him too," the black-haired man sneered.

The Silvite's green eyes flashed, but the passion was momentary. "You're very violent for a man who travels with a pacifist," he commented.

"Arianne's a fool," Miran scowled, catching the reference immediately. "Nothing ever gets accomplished if you sit around talking. If I weren't around to protect her, she would have been dead a long time ago."

"If her views are so detestable to you, then why bother to protect her at all?" Ramirez queried.

The former terrorist pointed his daggers at the ex-Admiral's throat. "That is none of your goddamn business," he snarled, his eyebrows almost touching.

"Perhaps not," the Silvite agreed with a curt nod, "but it's interesting nonetheless. You said she and your brother were in love? I imagine she's something akin to family to you, in that case. Funny thing, family, and how it makes us think we owe certain people anything. So does that make Arianne your younger sister?"

"Fuck you," Miran growled.

"If you don't like her, you should just get rid of her," Ramirez continued blithely. "Do you really have any obligation to stay with her? Ah, wait," he added, peering at the Lower Valuan, "as I recall, judging from your ranting the last time we met, you were quite fond of your younger brother. And she was his lover, so you protect her in honor of his memory. How...touching."

"Fuck YOU!!" Miran screamed, hurling a dagger at the Silvite. It missed him badly, the aim thrown off by the deliverer's rage, and thunked into the wood of the crates behind Ramirez.

Ramirez didn't as much as flinch, but he did turn his head sharply toward the door when someone opened it and walked in.

He and Miran both froze, staring at Arianne, who looked terribly surprised to see the man who had arrested her lover being threatened by her late lover's older brother. She also looked quite disheveled, and judging from her nightgown, her sleep had probably been interrupted.

The blonde Valuan was the first to speak. "Ramirez..." she began quietly and not without fear, "what are you doing here?"

Before he could answer, there was a noise behind them of someone throwing a blanket against a wall and someone scrabbling to his feet, and Vyse's voice frantically called, "Ramirez?!"

"Over here," the Silvite said without raising his voice, meeting Miran's glare dispassionately.

There was a sigh of relief, and Vyse said as he walked around the crates, "I just wanted to see where you—"

He stopped as soon as he was in full view, and Ramirez supposed he didn't blame him. The last time he had seen Miran and Arianne, the former had been trying to kill him, and Vyse was trying ever so hard to prevent his death...

This time, Vyse was the first to find his voice. "Well..." he said, looking as if he had been offered a sweet that might be poisoned. "I think it might be best if we all sat down and started explaining things."

"This guy as much as said he quit the Armada," Miran said abruptly, indicating Ramirez with a waved dagger. "That true?"

"Er—" the Blue Rogue said. "Uh...yeah. He defected, to be more accurate."

"Why?"

"I don't feel like telling you," Ramirez cut in, an edge finally coming to his voice.

Miran narrowed his eyes, but before he could speak, Arianne walked quickly over to him and grabbed onto his sleeve, silencing him with a stern look.

What happened next was a complete mystery to Vyse. Arianne turned her gaze at Ramirez, then glanced pointedly at the brunet rogue and arched an eyebrow. Ramirez scowled and looked away from both Vyse and Arianne toward the door. The pianist averted her gray eyes to the floor, then murmured, "Miran, that part...doesn't have anything to do with you." Looking up at the Silvite, she added, "Or me." She sighed and took a step in Vyse's direction, continuing, "So let's just ask about what brought you two aboard my ship in the first place."

"Er...sorry about that," Vyse apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's something of a long story..."

He told them an edited version of what had happened, glancing furtively every so often at Ramirez, who still kept his eyes on the door. Arianne and even Miran listened patiently, though the latter often looked skeptical at certain parts. When the Air Pirate finally finished, the 28-year-old former rebel was the first to speak, and his words were not encouraging to the young rogue.

"Do you really expect us to believe that?" he demanded, crossing his arms, the daggers in his right hand tucked under his arm. "That that Armada bastard just decided, 'I don't want to kill my friend, so I'll throw away my entire military career to make sure he lives!'? What kind of suckers do you take us for? Tell us the real story."

A flash of guilt skipped across Vyse's face, but Arianne shook her head.

"Leave him be, Miran," she said quietly. "Perhaps he told the truth, perhaps he didn't. But it doesn't change that they're here, in front of us. Getting angry and demanding an explanation after he already gave us one is pointless."

"Arianne!" the dark brown-haired man protested. "You can't possibly be serious!" He jabbed a finger at Ramirez. "He's a killer, and you know it. You can't possibly accept him aboard the Nightingale without a satisfactory explanation of why the hell he's here!"

The blonde woman gazed up at her companion calmly. "Aren't you a killer, too?" she queried quietly. "And have you already forgotten the circumstances under which we met?"

Miran opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. "That's not—completely beside the point—you don't—" he blustered, growing red in the face, then finally shook his head in disgust. "Fine. Fine!" the dark-eyed man yelled, nearly shoving the daggers in his hand back into his coat. "Do whatever the hell you want, then! Who the hell cares if you're giving Leo's murderer sanctuary, anyway!!"

"Technically, I only arrested him; it was someone else who executed him," Ramirez commented in a low voice, but Miran, who was halfway to storming out of the room, didn't respond.

The door opened before the ex-terrorist could reach it, and he retreated a step when he saw his other three companions.

"Miran, what's going on?" Fidel yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "The girls and I heard noises in here... You aren't chewing Arianne out again, are you? What'd she do this time?"

"Get out of my way," he snapped, his dark eyes narrowing with anger.

Startled by the taller man's hostility, Fidel wordless stepped aside, wide-eyed. Rosalind, behind him, wasn't so eager to submit, though, and setting her hands on her hips, she and Tierra blocked Miran's way.

"What is going on?" the blonde violinist demanded, blue eyes unyielding.

Before Miran could respond, though, Tierra had glanced past him into the room and spied the Silvite, who now kept his eyes fixed away from everyone nearby, and in surprised, she shouted, "Hey, it's Ramirez, that man who fought Miran on Sailor's Isle!"

Rosalind and Fidel immediately crowded over to Tierra's side to see, and Miran used that to walk past them with a snort of disgust. The male violinist glanced at him as he passed with a sound of worry, but the older man ignored him, and Fidel reluctantly switched his attention to his female companions, who had gone in ahead of him.

"What in the world are these two men doing here, Arianne?" Rosalind was demanding in disbelief.

"They're stowaways," she replied quietly.

"So throw them out!" the first-violinist said hotly.

The flaxen-haired pianist shook her head. "They don't have a ship of their own right now, they can't find a ride with anyone else, and apparently the Armada is coming here soon, so they have to leave as soon as possible."

"Wait, wait," Fidel interjected, stepping forward. "I can understand Vyse, a wanted Air Pirate, needing to get out of Sailor's Isle, but why Ramirez, too? He's an Admiral."

"Not anymore," Arianne refuted. "He's gone absent without leave."

"AWOL?" Rosalind repeated with a short, incredulous laugh. "Him? Somehow, I can't believe it, after what I've heard. But never mind that! Why are you letting him stay on the Nightingale, anyway? My father and elder brother are both in the Armada, as you well know, and they've told me stories about that fiend. They say he's brilliant, but dangerous and nearly unhinged, and anyone who's ever dared to cross him has ended up dead or maimed!"

"Um, Rosalind, I don't think—" Tierra began to interject, but Ramirez himself cut her off.

"If you believe those stories at all," the former Admiral said frigidly, glaring at her with hard eyes, "then you should silence yourself immediately, lest I do it for you."

The indigo-eyed violinist, apparently acknowledging the Silvite's presence for the first time, made a sound akin to a mouse being trod on, and shut up. Vyse flashed the white-haired man an angry glance, but the ex-Admiral had returned to fixing his gaze at no one and either didn't notice or simply pretended not to.

The brunette cellist stepped forward, albeit nervously, along with the second-violinist. "Arianne," the former said, glancing periodically at Ramirez, "are...are you sure this is wise? If they're on the run from the Armada, maybe we shouldn't get involved..."

The pianist woman gazed at her friend with an unreadable expression, then requested softly as if her friend hadn't said anything at all, "Tierra, could you please tell Miran to prepare to set off? We should leave as soon as the storm lets up." She then shifted her gray gaze to the aqua-eyed violinist and continued, "Fidel, if you don't mind terribly, could you find Vyse and Ramirez some more comfortable accommodations?"

Both Tierra and Fidel seemed to mind terribly, judging by how the former bit her lower lip and averted her eyes, and the latter shifted his weight and scratched his neck. Neither was as off-put as Rosalind, however, who recovered from her fear of Ramirez in time to protest, "Arianne, they aren't our problem! Just kick them off!"

"Rosalind, you know very well that I am not in the practice of forsaking those in need," the long-haired pianist reminded her companion.

"Yes, but helping a man like that—like both of them!—is like giving a pair of scorpions a drink of water out of your hands!" the azure-eyed Upper Valuan argued, pointing accusatorily at Vyse and Ramirez. "Do you really expect them not to sting you once they've had their fill?!"

"Hey, how am I like a scorpion?" the Blue Rogue protested, affronted, but before Rosalind could snap an answer back at him, Arianne stepped in between them both.

"All Vyse wants," she said patiently to her fellow blonde, "is a ride until a place called Crescent Isle, which is located to the north of Nasrad. It's rather out of the way for us, but we could always visit Nasrad while we're there."

"Ha, it's just a pile of rubble now, also thanks to that man," Rosalind said haughtily, jerking her head toward Ramirez. "What about compensation, hmm?"

"Once I'm back at Crescent Isle, I can pay you guys for your trouble," Vyse interjected. "It's just that I'm a little short right now, considering the situation."

"As he said, though I don't think it's necessary," Arianne nodded. "Vyse, when you get the chance, please explain to them what's going on. In return, Tierra, Fidel, if you two could please do as I asked earlier? And Rosalind, if you wouldn't mind bringing them some warm blankets as well." She glanced at the floor where rainwater still pooled, and continued, "I'll stay here and clean up."

"Arianne, are—" Tierra began, then cut herself off with a shake of her head. "All right," she acquiesced, turning to leave.

With an annoyed sigh, Rosalind also went to grab sleeping gear, as Arianne went to mop up the water. Fidel glanced at Ramirez and Vyse, then turned for the door with a meek, "Follow me, please." The brunet rogue glanced at his companion worriedly, but the former Admiral merely stooped to retrieve his sword and followed the violinist, and so the Air Pirate did so as well.

"There's not a lot of room on this ship," Fidel said apologetically as they walked through the short, wooden hallways. "There's barely enough room for the five of us, to tell the truth—less than enough room, if you listen to Rosalind."

"Don't worry, I've had to sleep in the engine room before, so if that's the only place left, I'll take it," Vyse grinned. "And Ramirez hardly ever sleeps anyway, so it doesn't matter where you set him up."

The yellow-haired man smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, that makes things a little easier... Miran probably wouldn't mind you, Vyse, but..." He glanced nervously at Ramirez, who said nothing.

"Yeah, I can understand that," the Blue Rogue said sympathetically. "I heard from Ramirez about how he arrested Miran's brother... I don't blame the guy from hating him, really."

The white-haired swordsman uttered nothing as they reached the engine room and entered. The room was quiet, which wasn't surprising, seeing as the boat was docked and thus the engine wasn't running.

"What's the whole story, though?" Vyse inquired. "Ramirez didn't tell us any more than that..."

"You should probably ask Miran that yourself," Fidel replied. "Moons know he's touchy enough about it already without me going and accidentally saying something unnecessary... Anyway, Rosa should be around to help you two out soon, so I'll talk to you in the morning?"

With a grin, the Blue Rogue nodded. "Yeah, sure! Thanks, Fidel!"

The shorter man smiled almost shyly and nodded back before leaving the two to get acquainted with their lodgings. The former Admiral immediately chose a spot against the wall and sank down against it, closing his eyes wearily.

Vyse sat down next to him, though a respectable distance away, further from the silent engine, which would surely be making a lot of noise later. "If you're tired, you could just lie down and try to go to sleep," he suggested, trying to be helpful. "If you're worried about Miran, I'll stay up and keep watch. I already got at least an hour or two of sleep, anyway."

"It's...all right," Ramirez murmured. "I appreciate the offer, but I won't be getting any sleep tonight regardless. You may as well get some sleep while it's still not noisy."

"Okay," the Blue Rogue agreed, not wanting to push it. "Don't stay up for too long, though, okay?"

"I've gone several days on end without proper sleep," the Silvite replied emotionlessly; "you don't need to worry."

Vyse opened his mouth to reply, but Rosalind entered then with a bundle of blankets and pillows in her arms. She eyed Ramirez warily, walked over near the two, and dropped her load unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Good night," she said stiffly before turning on her heel and marching out, her loose blonde hair trailing behind her.

"Real friendly," Vyse joked halfheartedly as he reached for the bed-things and handed some to his companion as soon as she'd gone. "Charming, too."

Ramirez murmured something in non-reply, and the two fell into silence as Vyse made himself comfortable. He didn't fall asleep so soon this time, though, as he thought of his morbid dream from just a short while ago...

He glanced at Ramirez worriedly. Unlike most of his sailor brethren, Vyse wasn't a particularly superstitious lad, but he could help but feel uneasy due to that horrid nightmare. He wondered where that inverted image of life and death came from; that certainly wasn't how he thought of the two!

/Maybe I'm starting to think like him.../ he frowned pensively, watching his companion, who was gazing in the opposite direction at the engine. /Moons know the way he talks about death being the solution to all his problems, something like that would turn up in my dreams.../

The rogue rolled over, turning his back to Ramirez, and thought on restlessly, /...I wonder what I'm going to do with him... What can I do with him? He said he doesn't want to stay with Doc, Miran'll kill him if he stays here, Aika'll kill him if I bring him to Crescent Isle, and he'll kill himself if I leave him alone.../ He sighed to himself. /Not like I could just dump him here! He's my responsibility; it's my fault all of this happened. If I hadn't brought him aboard the Delphinus in the first place... No point in regretting it now, though. I've just got to take responsibility./ Vyse made a face at the wall. /I don't know who Aika will be angrier at, me or him, but I can't do anything but bring him to Crescent Isle. We can use his old room as a prison cell; he probably won't run away, and all we'd have to worry about is him dying on us.../

The Air Pirate tugged his blanket up closer and thought fretfully, /I don't know if it's worth it to keep trying to keep him from killing himself. I hate it, but he's so damned insistent! I can't keep watching him forever... If I made him promise not to do anything stupid, there's nothing keeping him from breaking his promise, and once he's dead, he doesn't have to deal with it anymore. I don't... I won't be able to stand it if he commits suicide! But—if he's really determined...what am I supposed to do?/ Swallowing hard, Vyse thought, /Well, if he hasn't slit his throat while I was asleep yet, I guess the best thing I can do is keep him around... It's a nuisance, but I don't know what else I'm supposed to do... It's not as if I can return his feelings.../

But even as he thought so, the memory of Ramirez crushing Vyse's lips with his own flitted through the brunet's mind, summoning a flush of blood to his face. It definitely wasn't how he'd imagined his first kiss on the off-times throughout adolescence when he'd wondered what the act was like and with whom he'd like to try it. First of all, he'd always assumed he'd be kissing a girl...

/Not to mention that it'd be a mutual thing,/ he added mentally, surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder at the silent swordsman, who was staring off into space. /And that I wouldn't be kissing someone who was going to hand me over to the Valuans for execution... Well, Ramirez let me go, but still.../

Lowering his head, the brunet pirate bit his lower lip in recollection of the forced kiss. It had hardly been sexy, let alone romantic, and when it happened, his brain had gone numb, but he couldn't help but get worked up over it now that he was reminiscing on it. And he couldn't understand why—after all, he wasn't gay, right? Just because he was thinking about Ramirez that way didn't mean anything—probably everybody thought something like that once or twice in their lives! And at the time, the Silvite had been pretty close to him, or so he'd thought... And if he was going to date any guy at all, Vyse admitted, he'd probably pick his silver-haired companion first, all considering...

/Not like that'll ever happen, though,/ he mentally amended, rolling his brown eyes slightly. /It'll never happen.../

His somnolence began to return, and his eyelids grew heavy as he yawned and continued, /Rami and I are too different. I still don't understand why he let me go when he was on the verge of handing me over to Galcian and the Empire... What does he really care about? If, on some off-chance, Galcian approached him again and offered to forget his mistakes and let him come back, would Ramirez rejoin him? Would he betray me again? I just don't know.../

With a wide yawn, Vyse settled onto his spot and let his thoughts drift, though they still orbited around Ramirez, as he floated into the sky of sleep...

The Silvite, in the meantime, stayed up the entire night. Though his doubts and self-hatred continued to plague him, he managed to silence it, as he always did, by practicing his training. That night, he combined his swordplay with his mental training, meditating until he blanked his mind of all unnecessary thought, and then moving into swordplay after swordplay, swiftly and silently, like a potentially lethal dance, letting practice-honed instinct take over his consciousness and drive away his desolation.



After Arianne had finished wiping up the water and brought Vyse's things to the engine room, watching Ramirez train silently for a moment before leaving the bags at the door without a word, she headed back to the small bedroom she shared with Tierra and Rosalind. She was intercepted along the way, however, by Miran, who was frowning deeply, his dark brown eyes hardened.

"I'm not sailing anywhere with that bastard on my ship," he snapped, not bothering with small talk.

"The Nightingale is my ship, not yours," the grey-eyed woman replied quietly. "And it's not for a long time... Just a day and a night once we start sailing."

The dagger wielder's frown became a scowl. "Any second I have to spend near him is a long time," he growled.

She sighed, and said gently, "Miran, can we compromise? Let me help them just this one time. Once we take them to where they need to go, we'll never have anything to do with any of them again. Is that fair?"

The taller man raised a dark eyebrow. "You must know I don't mind helping the Air Pirate, even though he annoys me too," he said, his eyes still narrowed. "Blue Rogue jackass, thinking he's doing the world some good by stealing from Upper Valuans... Not that they'd suffer from it, anyway, Moons forbid, they just make Lower Valuans work harder so they can still laze around on their fat asses all day."

Arianne stared down at her feet, and Miran immediately realized he'd said too much. Swallowing a measure of his pride and resting a hand on his companion's shoulder, he said gently, "Look, I didn't mean you... We both know you're not like most Upper Valuans. And yeah, even though I generalized, I know not everyone in Upper Valua's like that, either. You taught me that, okay?" Removing his hand, the ex-insurgent returned to his brusque manner and continued, "But Arianne, there's a difference between Vyse and Ramirez. Vyse, I don't care if he comes or goes, lives or dies. If it were just him, I wouldn't be making this damn fuss! But I can't let Ramirez live. You should hate him, too! It's 'cause of him that Leo's dead!!"

"We've gone over this before, Miran," she murmured, drawing a long lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you think I don't wish things had gone differently, too? If I had known about what he and you and Juan had been doing, maybe I could have helped..."

"You wouldn't have helped and you know it," the dark-haired man stated flatly. "There's nothing you could have done to help even if you weren't such a damn peace lover, anyway."

Pain flashed across Arianne's ash-gray eyes, and she quickly dipped her head to hide it. "I just don't like to see the people I care about get hurt..."

Knowing he was falling into the usual argument and not caring, Miran snapped, "Nothing gets changed if you just sit around talking, Arianne. It's the actions you make that form your future! People remember you for the things you've done, not the words you've said, and for good reason. And you can't revolutionize anything—a country, a civilization, the world, anything—without bloodshed!" Calming down, he muttered, "...In any case, that's not important right now. Ramirez deserves to die. He's killed tons of people, and he'll just keep on killing. Asking him politely to cut it the hell out isn't going to work. If you want the world to be safe, let me kill him!"

"Even if I thought that was an acceptable solution, he's too powerful," Arianne said quietly, still staring at the floor. "You said so too, didn't you? That you'd never be able to beat him...that the best you could hope for was taking him down with you." She sighed heavily. "But that's what you want, isn't it? To go to where Juan and Leo are..."

Miran didn't reply. It was difficult, he knew, to do this to the woman who had almost become his sister-in-law... Her insight into his pain and hatred was amazing, so she had proved when they first met. He'd never expected her to be the lady for whom his younger brother had met—it had been one hell of a coincidence how he picked her ship out of all the ships docked, and hell was precisely what he'd been going through, not to mention what he'd forced upon her...

And yet, even as her three crewmates panicked, she dealt with him as if he was arguing over what kind of biscuit he wanted with his tea. After she had calmed him down and invited him aboard her ship, the Nightingale, in spite of Tierra, Rosalind and Fidel's protests, and they had talked, it became quickly apparent that they had Miran's younger brother, Leonardo, who was called Leo for short by those close to him, in common. That, possibly more than anything, had been what had bridged the gaps between the two—they both had only heard of each other via what Leonardo had conveyed to the other, but even from just that, they knew how much each other meant to the cheerful, dynamic young man who refused to give in to despair...

He, Miran reflected, had always been very unlike his younger brother; perhaps it was because he'd shouldered more responsibility, being the eldest, or perhaps it was simply because he'd had a poor attitude from the start. But throughout his youth, he had always been pessimistic, cynical, even gloomy—a start contrast to Leo, who, in spite of lacking Miran's good looks, was rarely to be found without a smile, which was his own way ever since childhood of battling against the oppressive misery of being a Lower Valuan. Though it was Miran who became leader, Leo was the one who came up with the idea of fighting against the Empire in the first place...

/He always was crazy about me, Leo was,/ the former rebel thought almost nostalgically. /He'd've been just fine at telling Juan and me what to do and where to go, but no, he let me take over, and he happily supported me, like he always did.../ But his heart and his eyes hardened, as they always soon did when he reminisced about his deceased kin. /...Leo had a future ahead of him... If it had been him, he would've been able to escape the life we'd lived for sure. He didn't have my strength or Juan's intelligence, but somehow, he had something better... Luck? Resourcefulness? Cleverness? Ingenuity? Or maybe just charisma? I don't know, but things always seemed to go his way.../ Miran's fist tightened in anger. /Until, of course, the Armada caught up with him—with all of us. Would never have happened if that one shithead hadn't sold us out to begin with, but I still get pissed thinking about it... Damn it all! If either of us should've died, it should've been me! He should have been out visiting Arianne, or—fuck, I don't know! But he shouldn't have died!!/

"It's all Ramirez's fault," he growled, his fist trembling. "He was too good... They never had a chance against him. Anyone who didn't give in quietly got slaughtered... If I'd fucking been there, would it have made a difference?! Fuck!!" the ex-revolutionary spat, too wrapped up in pinning the blame on one single target to allow himself to realize that there several extenuating circumstances, and that the former Admiral hadn't been the only one at fault. "If he hadn't shown up... If HE hadn't shown up...!!"

"Miran, please...please stop it..." Arianne whispered, her shoulders shaking slightly, trying to wipe away her tears and failing. "It's a thing of the past. No good can come of clutching at it like that..."

"I'd rather clutch at it than throw it away!!" he yelled savagely. "What do you think Leo would say if he knew you're helping the guy who arrested him and killed his friends?!"

Arianne gritted her teeth and glared up at him, tears flowing down her normally lovely face, which was currently disfigured with ugly red blotches. "What about you?!" she shouted, her turbulent emotions finally getting the better of her. "Do you think Leo would still be living in the past?! Do you think he'd sacrifice his current happiness just for revenge?! Or do you think he'd want you, his beloved older brother, to get yourself killed for him?!"

"At least I'm not going out of my way to forget him!!" Miran snarled, his temper moving him into spiteful untruths.

"I've never forgotten about him!" the lady pianist shouted back. "Besides, approximating his personality into a mask to hide your own pain will never really bring him back, even a little!! Leo would have wanted you to be yourself, not try to keep him alive by acting like him!!" Throwing her arms down, she continued, "Even when you're arguing with me like this, at least it's more like your real self!"

"How would you know what he would have wanted?!" the dark-haired man sneered. "He never brought you to meet me or Juan! How much of his true self could he really have shown you if he didn't do even that?!"

Arianne recoiled as if she had been slapped across the face—both of them knew that was a sensitive subject to her, and both knew it was playing dirty to recall it. Her grey eyes wavering with tears, she sniffled and swiped a hand across her face without saying a word.

Several moments passed in relative silence. Nobody had come to check out the quarrel, but that wasn't unusual; Rosalind, Tierra and Fidel had learned long ago that when the two fought, it was best to keep out of their way and let them calm down on their own.

Miran had already cooled down some in the quiet, beginning to regret his choice of words. Still, his ire remained, and so he said, "You're...kind, Arianne. You seek out the people with the most pain and try to comfort them, even though you have enough problems of your own as it is. I'm sure that's part of why Leo fell for you. But it's a nuisance! You happened to get lucky with me, but that's only 'cause my brother loved you so much. But not everyone will want to be comforted! Not everyone can be comforted! There are people who'll think you're just a busybody! You can't reach anybody if you're just compassionate enough. You can't solve the world's problems, so don't try to solve Ramirez's! A shit like him would be better off dead, anyway!"

"I see you're going back to another of your old arguments," the blonde woman murmured, eyes downcast. "And as always, I tell you that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try. It worked not just for you, but for Rosa, Tierra and Fidel, too, didn't it? That's why they're all on my ship..."

"And you've gotten arrogant because of it!" he snapped. "I don't know how you didn't realize who Ramirez was after you first met him, but when you finally clued in, that should have been your hint that he's not someone even you can reach! Yet you're letting him stay on this boat anyway?!"

"It's not only him who needed a ride," she countered softly.

"Then let the Air Pirate stay and I'll take care of Ramirez!"

The pianist shook her head. "I'm certain it's not that simple."

"You just don't want to give up on him!" he snapped, exasperated. "Arianne, face it—you barely know him, and what you do know is all bad. What's the sense in trying to help him?! It's stupid!" Jumping onto a different tactic, Miran took a step forward and, lowering his voice, said, "I know you're amazing at reading people..."

"People aren't books; it's a lot more complicated than you make it sound," Arianne mumbled.

"You can tell things just by observing them, watching what they do and say, and how they do and say it, then," he corrected himself, frowning. "But either way, even you can misread things, and you keep refusing to believe that there's anything bad about people! I had a knife to your throat, dammit! A knife, and you said I wouldn't kill you!!"

"And you didn't," she added, but she also sighed, looking wistful. "Maybe...maybe you're right, Miran," the flaxen-haired pianist acceded. "I think I should consider what you've said..."

"Including what I said about Ramirez?" the dark-eyed man said quickly.

She glanced at him, her eyes puffy and tired. "If he's no longer a member of the Armada, then is there really a reason to continue to hate him?" she queried softly. "I'd like it if you were to at least try to talk to him...but I suppose that's too much to ask..."

Miran said nothing as she walked past him to the room she shared with Tierra and Rosalind, but he did bow his head, his brows furrowed. His female companion halted upon turning the knob and murmured, "Please don't do anything rash. It's just for a short while, so..." She sighed, letting her sentence trail off. "Good night," and with that, she slipped into her room and shut the door behind her.

The tall Lower Valuan glanced behind himself, then shook his head and trudged off to his small double for his hammock. Fidel was there, and awake, but he was gracious enough to pretend to be asleep so that Miran wouldn't have to say anything to him. Miran appreciated it, and feeling mildly grateful, he slid onto the hanging woven bed and folded his hands behind his head before staring up at the ceiling through the darkness.

He cared about Arianne, and in spite of how much he himself hurt her, he didn't want to see her wounded. His own hatred of and his own desire to murder the silver-haired man aside, Miran was of the opinion that it was all in all an awful idea to let Ramirez stay on the Nightingale, even for a short while. Though the dark-haired man had not personally known Arianne during her times of trauma, he had heard of it partially from Leo and later from Arianne herself—about the arrest of her father for his gambling debts, how her mother got killed foolishly trying to stop the soldiers taking him away, how her house and possessions all were taken away and she was left with no home or family... She had, of course, managed to survive somehow, though with great difficulty; it was obvious by her current situation. It was still not something of which she spoke often, and understandably so; people rarely discuss their childhood traumas.

/She's come a long way,/ Miran thought, /from the miserable orphan girl Leo had met working as a restaurant musician over five years ago to the calm, peaceful, relatively happy woman she is now. And to think it was Leo that had done it... My little brother always had been amazing like that,/ the former revolutionary mused. /They both got a lot happier after they fell for each other... Makes me wonder why he never introduced Arianne to us.../ He grinned mirthlessly. /Maybe he was afraid I'd make her miserable again... Sure seems like that's what I keep doing now.../

Shifting onto his side, he muttered, "Arianne..."

The blonde pianist, meanwhile, in her own slightly larger triple-bedroom, was cleaning herself up and getting reading for bed. Tierra and even Rosalind weren't questioning her, though they were commenting as she ran a brush through her tangled hair.

"Miran has no tact whatsoever," the violinist declared, her own golden hair still loose rather than wrapped up in its usual braided-bun style. "And he's always crazy, but he's gotten especially crazy since that man became involved."

"Well, all considering, you can hardly blame him," Tierra pointed out almost defensively. "I'd be upset too if I'd been him... Not that it's any reason to take it out on Arianne," she added, glancing furtively over at her roommate.

"That brute," Rosalind grumbled. "The only thing he has going for him is that he's so handsome."

"And he's strong with those daggers," the brunette cellist added.

"Well, yes, I suppose."

"And he's talented with several different instruments."

"Well, fine, all right—"

"And he can steer a boat."

"Fine, yes!"

Thoughtfully, the short young woman continued, "And he looks out for all of us, and he's helped us all out a lot, and he's usually very sweet..."

"Tierra, shut up!" Rosalind snapped irritably.

The brunette flushed, but before she could reply, Arianne spoke up wearily.

"Rosalind, Miran has his positive and his negative traits," the pianist said. "Sometimes the good things are more pronounced...and sometimes the bad things are more pronounced."

"I know, Arianne," the violinist replied, rolling her eyes. "Fine, fine, I know what you're getting at—sorry for telling you to shut up, Tierra."

"Er..." the petite brunette said quietly, a trace of her old meekness becoming apparent. "Right..."

Arianne sighed heavily, setting down her brush. "Let's all get some sleep while we can," she suggested softly, letting her eyes slide onto the small, battered iron box next to her hand.

"Assuming we'll ever wake up again," Rosalind commented, sliding into her single bed while the pianist took the ring box into her hands and drew it into her lap, gazing down at it. "That Ramirez is a maniac; who knows if he's not waiting until we fall asleep so he can kill us all?"

"Now you're being ridiculous," Tierra argued. "There's probably some truth to those stories about him, but you're taking them way out of proportion. You really shouldn't keep perpetuating rumors, anyway, Rosa..."

"Daddy and my big brother wouldn't lie to me!" the violinist huffed.

"That's not—" the cellist began to argue, but she cut herself off, clutching at the end of her top bunk as she shut her green eyes tightly to calm herself. "I'm just saying that you're assuming too much," she stated carefully. "He's an Admiral, so even if he enjoys killing as much as your stories say, which I doubt somehow, he'll be in control of his baser urges—"

"Admiral Vigoro," Rosalind said, an eyebrow arched.

"Anyway," Tierra said hastily, "nobody would let him join the elite of the Armada if he was mentally disturbed, right?"

"Admiral De Loco," the violinist stated shrewdly, her eyebrow still arched.

With an exaggerated sigh and a hint of a laugh, Tierra leaned back onto her bed with a loud, "I give up!"

Arianne, too, smiled at their banter, as she opened the tiny package in her hands and gazed fondly at its content.

"Are you going to bed soon, Arianne?" Rosalind yawned, pulling her covers over her body.

"Yes, soon," the flaxen-haired pianist replied, regarding the band of handwoven colored threads peeking out from the plain cotton cushion with bittersweet nostalgia.

"Weren't you wondering a minute ago if Ramirez would kill us all as we slept, Rosalind?" Tierra queried from the bunk bed she shared with Arianne.

The violinist shrugged from where she rested. "If he really wanted to kill us, none of us could stop him, so at least if I die, it'll be while I can't feel it," she reasoned. "So, there's no point in depriving myself of beauty sleep over something that I have no power to prevent provided it does happen."

"My, how practical of you," Tierra remarked with a small smirk. "Well...good night, Rosalind, Arianne."

The pianist shut the dented iron box with a tiny snap and set it back next to her brush. "Yes, good night," she murmured, blowing out the lamp and heading for bed, though more for a night of contemplation than a night of slumber.



The next morning, when Vyse rose from his sleep, the running engine of the Nightingale announced that they had set sail. He yawned, slightly irritated by the racket, and sat up to stretch and glance around. Nearby, Ramirez was sitting on his bedspread, staring into space, his silver blade resting by his side.

"Good morning," the Blue Rogue called in an effort to be friendly, having to raise his voice to be heard over the noise.

If the former Admiral made any reply, Vyse couldn't hear it.

"I don't suppose you ended up sleeping at all?" he tried.

Ramirez shook his head.

Wondering if the Silvite had fallen back onto his silence from when they were on the lifeboat headed to Sailor's Isle, Vyse ventured, "Don't you feel tired at all? If you want, we can sleep in shifts."

"I told you before that I've gone several days without sleep without much ill effect," Ramirez replied, and the Blue Rogue was only mildly relieved to hear his voice, considering the white-haired man's words. "Don't feel as if you have to look after me."

Vyse frowned worriedly, almost biting his lip. "It can't be healthy to go that long without resting. You should at least get twenty minutes of sleep here and there..."

"No point," the Silvite stated. "Besides, the less I sleep, the less likely I am to suffer from nightmares."

The Air Pirate ruefully admitted to himself that this was true, and considering the reactions Ramirez had had in the past to some of his worse dreams, that might not be such a bad thing... "That reminds me," he said out loud, "I've been wondering—do you ever have good dreams?"

The silver-haired swordsman was silent for a moment, then shrugged, as if it wasn't a matter of much consequence. "None that I can remember..."

Furrowing his eyebrows in sympathy, Vyse murmured, "That's sad..."

The Silvite glanced at him sharply, apparently hearing him in spite of the roar of the engine, and stiffly, he returned his gaze to the wall opposite him. "I've become used to it," he said with another shrug. "No need for you to pity me."

The Air Pirate frowned deeply. /It's not just a matter of pity, it's a matter of.../

His train of thought was sadly redirected from its route to self-inspection when Ramirez continued, "...Why are you asking, anyway? You sleep so soundly at night that it can't possibly bother your slumber."

"I was just wondering," Vyse replied awkwardly and defensively. "You seem to sleep little, and badly."

"Yes, but I manage regardless," Ramirez said in a dismissive tone.

The Blue Rogue's handsome face clouded with frustration at the Silvite's obvious continued desire to be difficult. It didn't matter what Vyse tried to talk about—if the topic was about him, Ramirez would deflect anything away... Going on his finally learned course of not pushing the Silvite into any unwanted conversation, Vyse said, "Whatever makes you happy. Not as if I'll have any luck trying to talk to you about it..."

The former Admiral's expression also clouded, and turning his head away, he muttered, "It doesn't make me happy..."

Only barely hearing him over the engine, Vyse glanced at him. "Hm? Did you say something?"

Ramirez glanced back, and after a long moment of debating whether or not to repeat himself, he sighed. "I said, 'It doesn't make me happy.' Do you think I like having nightmares?"

"Well, no," the Blue Rogue said, shifting his body to face his companion. "That's why I was asking." He hesitated, knowing fully well what the answer would probably be to his next inquiry, but plunged forward regardless. "Do you...do you want to talk about it?"

Surprised, Ramirez queried, "What would talking do?"

Slightly embarrassed, the brunet scratched his scar and glanced to the side. "I've heard..." he began to explain, "that nightmares are caused by stress, or bad experiences. Especially if they reoccur. So maybe if you tried sorting those things out..."

Ramirez cut him off with a bitter, mirthless laugh. "That would explain why I have so many, so often," he said dryly. "I certainly have no lack of stress or bad experiences... So, what? Do you think if I talk to you, they'll go away?"

Hurt by his companion's unmasked mocking, Vyse replied, "...I don't know if nightmares can be gotten rid of..." Changing tactics, he instead questioned, "Didn't people in Valua notice you having nightmares?"

The pale swordsman shook his head. "I remedied that by sleeping less."

"Again with the lack of sleep! That's not good for you!" Vyse protested. "I've heard you can die if you don't get enough sleep."

Ramirez peered at him for so long without answering that the Blue Rogue grew very uncomfortable. When the Silvite finally spoke, he merely said, "Oh. Is that so?"

The rogue deliberately veered away from dangerous waters and instead said, "...I bet if you got more sleep, you'd sleep better."

The beautiful Silvite shrugged his thin shoulders. "Maybe," he granted. "But I don't fall asleep easily anymore. Most of the time I simply don't feel tired."

Vyse frowned unhappily and shook his head as he stood. "...Well, then I guess trying to get more sleep is futile, then..." He added to himself in a mutter, "There's no chance of you telling me your problems, either..."

Ramirez, who couldn't hear his additional comment, remained sitting, his jade-colored eyes cast to the floor, and after a moment, the Blue Rogue left him where he was.

The first person Vyse met was Tierra, who was quite petite, easily shorter than Fina. He idly remembered how tiny she had seemed in comparison to her cello when he saw her perform with Arianne at Polly's several weeks ago, and wondered briefly how it was she managed to play such a large instrument as he smiled at her and said, "Good morning! Is Arianne up?"

She smiled back, her disconcertion from last night gone. "Yeah, she's up with Miran, who's steering. You should feel lucky! Arianne talked Miran into setting sail even though it's still raining."

"It's still raining?" Vyse repeated, surprised. "She didn't have to go that far..."

The brunette shrugged. "Arianne likes to do things for other people," she said. "It's her way of proving she exists, I guess."

The brown-eyed rogue stared at Tierra for this strange statement, but the cellist either didn't notice or didn't care. "So in return," she said cheerfully, turning and beginning to walk, indicating that the Air Pirate follow her, "will you help us out? Things are always tougher in a storm..."

"Uh, sure," Vyse said, walking after her, slightly perplexed.

He quickly forgot about it as he got back into the rhythm of helping out on a ship; it hadn't been a long time since he'd last sailed, but he was quick to remember how sorely he missed it. True, Miran was the one at the wheel, but Vyse wasn't too picky at the moment, all considering. He was getting away from the Armada and, according to Arianne, getting a ride all the way to Crescent Isle. Now the entire problem was figuring out how to deal with Ramirez once they reached there...

A few hours into the trip, they had nearly passed through the storm, and the blonde pianist pulled Vyse aside to make a request of him—to see if he couldn't ask Ramirez if he wouldn't speak with her. The handsome pirate agreed with a smile, and took a break from helping out to check up on his white-haired companion.

He found the former Admiral in the middle of his sword practices, and like last time, Ramirez promptly stopped as soon as Vyse entered the room. Feeling uncomfortably as if he had walked in on something private, the Blue Rogue stepped inside and forced a smile. "Hi," he said awkwardly.

Ramirez glanced at him briefly, unsmilingly, and dropped his gaze to the floor without a word.

"Arianne...was wondering if you wouldn't mind talking to her," he continued, staying near the door.

The ex-Admiral frowned. He did mind, but he supposed that considering he was on her ship, it was something that couldn't be avoided... Best to get it over with, he decided, and he nodded. "All right," Ramirez said curtly, returning his sword to his hip. "I'll go now."

Grateful for the lack of resistance, Vyse went back with him, and Arianne met them partway, leading Ramirez off to her room. The Blue Rogue watched them both go before rejoining Fidel, Miran and the other girls on the bridge.

He was surprised when he got there by the tall, dark man calling him over and telling him to take the wheel. The Blue Rogue hesitantly accepted, and stared after Miran as he stalked below deck.

"He's probably going to go pick a fight with Arianne again," Rosalind commented astutely, also watching him go.

"She's talking to Ramirez now, though," Vyse said, alarmed.

"He'll let her have her conversation," Fidel reassured him. "I'm betting once he figures out what she's up to, he'll be content with listening in on them and making sure Ramirez doesn't do anything."

Feeling obliged to defend his former friend, the Blue Rogue protested, "But he wouldn't do anything."

Fidel shrugged helplessly as Rosalind rolled her eyes. "Tell Miran that," he said.

"He's always been protective of Arianne," Tierra commented from the control panel off to Vyse's right. "He picks on her sometimes to make sure she's safe. He's gotten downright mean before."

The two violinists both nodded sagely, but the Air Pirate stared at the cellist, boggled by the seeming nonsensicality of that logic. "That doesn't make sense," he decided to argue. "Mistreating someone you care about to protect them? Wouldn't it be better to be nice to them?"

"Miran's way of thinking is that the ends justify the means," Rosalind said dryly. "It doesn't matter how he wins, so long as he wins."

Vyse frowned, his opinion of the man dropping as he looked back out into the stormy sky. "That's hardly a way to treat other people," he muttered. Reflecting on from where the man hailed, he added, "Say, are all of you from Valua? Upper or Lower?"

"We're all from Upper Valua except for Miran," Tierra replied.

"Really?" the rogue queried, his curiosity piqued. "Why's that? I mean, why are you four traveling with someone from Lower Valua?"

"He sort of joined us on his own..." Fidel began, but Rosalind interrupted him with a bored, "He held a knife to Arianne's throat and demanded she take him out of Valua."

"What?" Vyse gasped, staring at her. "You've gotta be kidding!! Why'd he do that?!"

"Well, he had a bounty on his head," the indigo-eyed violinist shrugged. "He had to get out of Valua before the Armada caught up with him."

Feeling as if he'd missed something very important, the rogue queried, "And why'd he have a bounty on his head?"

"Didn't Ramirez tell you?" Fidel queried, surprised. When Vyse shook his head, wide-eyed, the blond man looked distinctly uncomfortable and said, "Well...until two years ago, Miran lead a bunch of rebels who were trying to topple the Empire..."

He remembered the dark-haired man babbling something about rebels, but it still came as a surprise to Vyse. Seeing his expression, Tierra added, "Two years ago, the Armada found their base and arrested or killed everyone but him. He'd been away at the time, and he had to go into hiding. When he tried to leave the country, he picked out this, the Nightingale, as his getaway ship... I suppose because he saw just the four of us as the crew and figured, from the looks of us, we wouldn't put up much of a fight."

"Which we didn't," Fidel reminded her.

"Yes, Arianne talked him out of slitting her throat," Rosalind said with an air of slight bemusement. "She has quite the silver tongue, that woman. It wasn't quite so funny when she invited him to join us when she found out he was her lover's older brother..."

The brunet rogue's head began to spin from all the mind-boggling new information, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Is he always that violent?"

"No, actually," Tierra was quick to respond. "Ever since he joined us, he's gotten a lot calmer. I think he was actually pretty happy to meet someone who was sort of like family... After his brother, Leonardo, and his best friend, Juan, got arrested and executed, he didn't have anyone left."

Vyse, who would be more inclined to feel sorry for the man if he weren't trying to murder the person he was trying to keep alive, nodded. "That makes sense. And he told you guys all this?"

"The execution of the terrorists was all over the news in Upper Valua," Rosalind said superciliously. "We already knew most of the details. He just filled us in on the rest since he didn't want us misunderstanding him."

"So, yeah, Miran is normally a really nice guy," Fidel said, nodding. "But you've got to understand that that whole situation is really sensitive for him. Ramirez led the troop that routed his band of revolutionaries, so of course Miran hates him."

"Yeah..." the brunet said thoughtfully, thinking back to when the silver-haired swordsman had turned his blade against him less than a week ago. "Still, it's kind of hard to believe that Arianne managed to calm him down when he was threatening to kill her..."

All three of the others laughed, to Vyse's bewilderment, and Tierra said warmly, "You don't know her well enough. To us, it's no surprise at all."

"Precisely," Rosalind added, flipping back her bangs. "She talked me, her greatest rival in the music world, into joining her on her silly excursion around what parts of the world she can reach in this little boat to play practically for free. It's a waste of my talent, but somehow she managed it, and I don't even regret it! Yes, she's something, all right."

As she spoke, Vyse was vaguely reminded of the first Admiral, and remembering how she'd said her older brother was in the Armada, he inquired, "Hey, Rosalind, you wouldn't happen to be related to Alfonso, would you?"

The violinist looked surprised at first, but she soon smiled immodestly. "No," she replied, "but I'm very flattered you might think so."

The Blue Rogue didn't think it was something to feel special about, but he wisely kept his opinion to himself. "Is that why you all travel with Arianne, then?" he chose to ask instead.

"Sort of," Fidel answered. "She's...just got a way with people. She helped us out with our own respective problems, and after a while we just started following her... I don't know how she's doing with Ramirez, but I'm sure she's just fine."

"Mm," Vyse murmured.

"And if we may ask, Vyse, what's the full story behind you and Ramirez?" Tierra queried politely. "Arianne told us to ask you, so..."

"Yeah, I guess it would be best to hear it from me, huh?" he laughed nervously, and told them the same edited version of the story he'd given the pianist and her male friend. Understandably, the three looked stunned and slightly skeptical by the end.

"So he gave up everything for friendship?" Rosalind demanded, an eyebrow cocked. "I refuse to believe it. You must be leaving something important out."

"Rosa, don't be rude," Tierra said in a slightly scandalized whisper, staring at her in disbelief.

"Well, it doesn't make sense!" the violinist woman snapped.

"Something like that is still the truth, though," Fidel pointed out, "since Ramirez is here on this ship." He turned to the Blue Rogue and said, "But there is something I want to know. If he betrayed you, why are you letting him follow you? Aren't you afraid he'll betray you again?"

Vyse glanced away, his expression melancholy. "...I..." He laughed slightly. "I keep asking myself just that, actually..."

The aqua-eyed violinist gave him a small smile and rested a hand on the rogue's shoulder. "You said he was a friend of yours, right?" he said. "It's probably not too late to save that. From the sounds of it, he gave up all he had to make sure you were safe."

"It sounds sort of like something Miran would do," Tierra laughed. "I'm sure Ramirez would be thrilled to hear that!"

Vyse grinned, feeling a little better, but he replied, "It's a little more difficult than that. It's just really hard to talk to him, and he's completely depressed now..."

"Of course he's depressed; he was an Admiral, for the Moons' sake, and he gave up all that power and prestige for a lowly Air Pirate!" Rosalind declared with a lofty smirk. "Not that I think this is for real, anyway. Mark my words, he's got a plan—it makes no sense to me, but that's what you get when you've got these insane genius-types. Their plots never make sense to anyone but themselves."

"I don't know why you keep saying that. Ramirez seems perfectly rational to me," Tierra commented, frowning.

As the two women proceeded into a debate over the former Admiral's questionable sanity, Vyse felt the positive feeling that had been building up slowly after talking to the three drain away. Though he didn't like Rosalind's attitude or the way she said what she did, her words fit chillingly. Recent events considered, it would be just like the white-haired master strategist to build this, too, into some greater scheme... He couldn't make sense of it whatsoever, and the fact that Ramirez had been about to kill himself threw it off, but Vyse knew well he wasn't exactly all there, and knowing him, it wouldn't surprise him if the Silvite had just been making a calculated risk...

When he reentered the conversation later, the Air Pirate was considerably more subdued, having been given far too much to consider.



Earlier, after the blonde pianist had led the silver-haired swordsman to the bedroom she shared with her female companions and had him sit next to a port window, there was a short moment where neither said anything.

Finally, his arms crossed, the former Admiral inquired coolly, peering at the woman sitting across from him, "What did you want?"

"I...wanted to apologize," Arianne murmured, crisscrossing her fingers over her knees.

Ramirez stared at her, startled—that was the last thing he'd expected. "For?"

"For making assumptions about you," she replied quietly. "For assuming that I could understand you—and for trying to get too close to you."

The Silvite didn't know quite what to say, so he remained silent.

"I suppose I was arrogant," she continued. "I saw you, and you seemed so out of place—I thought of myself, and I wanted to help. But I shouldn't have thought it to be my place..."

"It wasn't," he said plainly. "But...you were trying to do what you thought was right." He paused, and begrudgingly finished, "I suppose...I can't condemn you for that."

She glanced at him with wide, pensive gray eyes. "...Thank you," she said. "...If I may make an observation?"

The former Admiral shrugged, watching the rain pelt at the window. "Do as you please."

She hesitated. "...Something...about you seems to have changed."

He shifted his eyes toward her, raising an eyebrow in inquiry, and the pianist paused for several seconds before continuing, "The last time we met...you were very stand-offish. You clearly didn't want my company, although I chose to ignore that, thinking that if I persisted, that would change. Now...you seem more subdued. More..." She pursed her lips in thought, and then finished, "Passive, perhaps? Rather than aggressive. You seem to allow things to happen rather than struggling against them." Arianne smiled apologetically. "Forgive me. It's likely not my place to say—or assume."

Ramirez turned his head toward her slightly to regard the taller woman. "You've changed, too," he noted. "When we last spoke, you were not nearly so...penitent."

She glanced off towards the side. "I suppose it's because I realized that I had made some errors of judgment, as I said before..." she said softly.

The silver-haired swordsman said nothing, knowing that she was referring to his having arrested her lover.

"I will admit, I was upset at first," Arianne continued. "Hurt. Angry. But after a while, I came to realize that, had you had your own choice, you wouldn't have had anything to do with me. All our interaction was instigated by me. In addition, you are a soldier. You were doing your duty, as a good soldier would. As much as I dislike the profession, it would be unfair of me to fault you for doing what you were ordered."

"Your friend tends to disagree with you," Ramirez commented, not mentioning that he didn't feel bad about arresting the rebels, though he didn't blame them for what they had been trying to do.

She frowned slightly, her forehead creasing. "Miran, I assume," she sighed. "Yes. But it's to be expected that a man who believes that spilling blood will bring about positive change will disagree with a woman who believes that all solutions can be reached through peaceful, diplomatic discussion."

"Why does he follow you around, anyway?" Ramirez frowned. "I assume because of his brother..."

The blonde woman smiled wistfully. "Yes, that's part of the reason," she replied. "Leonardo is the link that binds us together. But we only met after Leo had died." The pianist shrugged. "I won't bore you with the details. I'll just say that, in the end, my philosophy won out over his, and after that day, he's stayed on my ship, protecting me."

"So you acknowledge that you need protection," the ex-Admiral said.

She laughed ruefully. "I am pretty and I can play the piano well," she said, "and I fancy myself able to understand others well, having been watching people since I was a child. And because of that, along with my education, I fancy myself skilled at bringing about peace. But other than those things, I am utterly useless. When you think about it, even with those things, I have absolutely no practical skills."

"Wouldn't you argue that your diplomacy is a practical skill?" Ramirez frowned.

Arianne shook her head, her eyes and smile sad. "If you were going on a long trip," she murmured, "who would you prefer to bring with you—someone skilled in cooking and foraging for food, or someone who can easily quell a dispute?"

"It would depend on where you're going; both have their values," he replied, nodding thoughtfully. "But you have a point. A cook has a more immediate use than a diplomat."

She nodded back, leaning against the window and gazing out at the storm. "Besides," she added, "one's skills are only useful as long as one can protect and save those for whom one cares."

The former Admiral peered at Arianne with a troubled frown. Was she trying to imply something about him? "We barely know each other," he reminded her, just in case.

She smiled, closing her gray eyes. "I don't recall saying I was referring to you."

The white-haired man leaned back slightly. "Miran, then," he surmised. "What with his willingness to die if it means he can kill me."

The blonde woman didn't reply.

Far past the point of caring about subtlety, Ramirez queried, "He doesn't seem to like you very much. You seem to be something of a bother to him. He told me that you are a fool, and if he weren't protecting you, you would long since have been a dead woman. He doesn't seem to think very highly of your diplomacy."

"You don't either, do you?" she smiled painfully. "Then again, your life is built around conflict, just like Miran's. Of course you would think my beliefs to be the idle prattle of a naïve girl."

"Well said," he observed. "Much as I loathe admitting it, I agree with him to a certain extent. Just talking won't get you anywhere; you need force, power, to back up your words. Otherwise, no one will listen to you. And if someone is intent on taking your life, no amount of diplomacy is going to dissuade them."

Arianne's pained smile increased. "I must disagree with you there," she said, "having had experienced such a situation."

Ramirez raised an eyebrow, but he shook his head. "If it's you, I'll believe it," he muttered. "You have an unmistakable way with words. You even maintained a conversation with me on the night when we first met...not that you were offering me any other choice. I'm sorely regretting letting you have your way now. It's just one more complication in my already overcomplicated life."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, dropping her eyes as her smile faded away.

"Nothing to be done about it now," he muttered. "Is there anything else you wanted to say, or is that it?"

"Only something presumptuous," she replied.

"I'll take my leave, then," he said, standing. "Don't worry; I won't get in the way of you or your companions. I'm fine with spending the rest of the trip with just the engine to keep me company."

She stood up as well, grabbing his jacket as he passed. "Although it's presumptuous, I feel a need to say it," she said with an apologetic smile. "I don't know if I'm right. I made an enormous error in judgment concerning you—I deliberately ignored things that should have been obvious about you, so I might be wrong again. In addition, I have a feeling I don't know the entire story. If so, please just ignore me, but if not, please at least contemplate what I'm about to tell you, even if you don't take it to heart."

Arianne took a deep breath, then gently told Ramirez, "If you try to keep your pain strictly to yourself, you will only engender more pain, not only for yourself, but for the people who care about you. Like I said, I don't know the details Vyse left out of his recounting of what happened between you two, but even so, I can still see a lot of hurt between the two of you. Whether you love him as a friend or you love him as something else, if you truly care about him, you should try to clearly express what you feel..."

"I already have," Ramirez said flatly, though he didn't move. "Since you won't stop if I don't tell you, I...told him I loved him. He didn't take it well. Are you done?"

There were several seconds of silence, then Arianne shook her head. "Pardon me, but no," she said contritely. "If the two of you leave things the way they are, you'll only continue to wound each other. If he's important enough to you that you would sacrifice everything else that matters to you to preserve his life, then wouldn't it be worth it to, even if he won't return your specific affections, restore your friendship?"

"Although he told me he forgives me, he'll never truly trust me again," the ex-Admiral stated, not without a tinge of regret. "Which he would be right not to do. I am worthy of no one's faith."

"...I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't be," he replied stiffly, and finally pulling his arm out of her grasp, he walked the door. When he opened it, Miran was leaning against the wall on the other side, and the former Admiral paused, eyeing him warily.

The ex-revolutionary eyed him back with hostile, dark brown irises and a faint sneer. The two stared each other down, Arianne clasping her hands to her chest in worry nearby, before Ramirez smiled imperceptibly, moved his gaze to the end of the hallway, and stepped forward.

If he's going to kill me, he'll just be doing me a favor—so went the Silvite's logic. Miran watched him go, his arms folded over his chest, but did nothing to impede Ramirez. He glanced at Arianne, but said nothing—his scowl merely deepened, and he pushed himself away from the wall and stalked off.

The blonde pianist sorrowfully watched him leave, and after a moment, followed him up to the bridge, where Miran was piloting the Nightingale into a field of sky under a patch of sunshine peeking through the remaining rainclouds. Vyse was nearby, his back to her and his fists on his hips, and she hesitated for a moment before she decided to try to talk to him. She scolded herself, but she couldn't let Ramirez stay that miserable without trying to help... It just went against her nature to leave someone like that.

Approaching him and getting his attention by touching his sleeve gently, she quietly said, "Vyse, may I have a few words with you?"

"Uh, sure," he said, turning to face her. "Um...I guess you just finished talking to Ramirez?"

She nodded once, her gray eyes subdued.

Looking both discomfited and eager at the same time, he questioned in a low voice, "Did he...say anything about me?"

She nodded again, taking a step backwards. "Let's go someplace more private."

"All right," he agreed, missing the glare Miran was sending his way as he followed Arianne below deck.

She led him to her room and sat him down in the chair Ramirez had occupied minutes earlier, then sat opposite him, folding her hands in her lap.

"I want to talk about Ramirez," she said forthrightly. "And about you...if that's fine."

Feeling a bit awkward, Vyse replied, "Yeah, sure."

She sighed slightly, bowing her head, then looked up at him and began. "I had a feeling that you weren't telling the entire truth when you told Miran and me what happened to bring you aboard my ship," she said. "Well, I suppose it wasn't just intuition; as Miran stated, it was rather obvious that there were some holes to your story."

"Well, yeah," the Blue Rogue admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing. "But...well...there were some parts that were just kind of private."

"Such as Ramirez being in love with you?" Arianne guessed gently.

Vyse's jaw dropped as he leaned forward to stare at the older woman. "How—how did you know?! Was that your intuition?"

"Ramirez told me," she replied, and he deflated slightly. "But it was something I'd observed in him a long time ago." Arianne smiled. "You know, Vyse, it's hard not to get charmed by someone with your joie de vivre."

"My what?"

"It means joy for life," she explained. "Living and being happy with your life is important to you, isn't it? You keep going, and don't let anything stop you." The pianist laughed slightly. "Well, anyone who knows what you've done could surmise as much. But still, hearing about you and meeting you are two different things. It's not surprising, to me at least, that even men would fall for you."

"Well...it was something of a shock for me," the Blue Rogue murmured, glancing at the floor.

"Ramirez mentioned that you didn't take it well," she noted. "What did you tell him? I assume you rejected him, but..."

"Well, yeah," Vyse shrugged, still feeling awkward. "I mean, he's a guy. Plus...well...he was about to throw me to the Empire, and he'd burned down my base, and he'd pointed his sword at me and my friends... C'mon, it's not something you can forget easily, even with an 'I love you'."

"But he let you go," she pointed out. "At the cost of his position, it seems."

The Air Pirate smiled ruefully. "Ever since I brought him onto the Delphinus," he began, "I've been letting a lot of the things he's been doing slide, hoping that he'd calm down, that he'd take to us. And it was a rough ride, and we fought a lot, but he and I eventually did sort of become something like friends, and he was even being nicer to the crew. But..." Vyse glanced out the porthole. "I don't know. I don't know if he was faking the entire thing or not... I mean, he told me he loved me, but that might be a lie, too, you know?" He sighed. "It's just...I was more or less giving him all my trust before he turned on us. But ever since then, I..." Scratching his scar embarrassedly, the rogue confessed, "I guess I'm afraid he'll betray me again."

"You don't want to be hurt again," Arianne summarized, "so you keep him at arm's length. But if you're that afraid, why do you keep him as close as that?"

Vyse took a deep breath, not wanting to tell her the truth, since it was still painful for him—his dream was still fresh in his mind—but knowing he didn't have much of a choice. "He...when he let me go, his idea of reconciling his oaths to Galcian and his feelings for me was...by killing himself after he let me go free."

Arianne's gray eyes widened, but she merely nodded slightly. "Please continue."

"I can't stand suicide!" he blurted out, shifting himself forward in his chair. "I can't stand the thought of people taking the easy way out by willingly choosing to end their own lives rather than face up to their problems!"

"I can understand that," she said with a nod. "So then, you took him with you to make sure he wouldn't kill himself? But in spite of your good intentions, you may be making him more miserable." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "I myself was doing the same when I was trying to 'help' him, though I only realize that now."

Vyse was silent, gazing at Arianne, stricken by the thought of allowing Ramirez to die out of mercy. "But..." he murmured at length, "he...he's making too much of a big deal out of this... I'm just one guy! There's a world full of people out there! He used to be totally devoted to Galcian—he practically still is. And then he met me, and after a while, we started getting friendly. So why couldn't that happen with someone else?"

"Once they fall in love with one person, people tend to want to stay in love with that person," the blonde woman pointed out, and Vyse hung his head.

"That's not..." he protested. "But he's taking this too far..."

"Vyse," she said gently, "have you ever been in love with someone? So much, so deeply, so strongly that you thought you might die from it? Have you ever cared so much for someone that you'd be willing to give up everything, even your life, for them?" She breathed a small sigh, pushing back her hair behind her ear. "Real love isn't so weak as to disappear when someone wants it to disappear, even the one who's experiencing it. Perhaps I'm wrong—that's always a possibility—but I have an idea of what the situation is, based on what you told me.

"Though he tried to erase it from himself by betraying you, ultimately he could not surrender his true feelings, and even though it meant losing everything, including you, he decided to let you go free." Gazing sorrowfully at the Blue Rogue, she said, "In the end, he chose you—love—over the Empire—duty...though there was a dangerous period where he almost chose the latter. Knowing that, can't you try to trust him again?"

"...I..." He shook his head, his pained brown eyes gazing at his knees. "You don't understand... It's not that easy!"

Her face serious, Arianne said, "Vyse, I don't think you understand what it means to have someone who's willing to die for you."

"But I don't want him to die for me!!" he protested, getting to his feet. "I don't want him to die at all!!"

Gazing up at him, she queried levelly, "Why not?"

"...That's..." the brunet rogue murmured.

"Vyse, may I ask you something?" she inquired. At his nod, the blonde continued, "What, precisely, are your feelings for Ramirez?"

His cheeks turning pink, the young ship captain stammered, "Wh, what do you mean?"

"You thought of him as a friend, correct?" she said evenly. "Surely those emotions weren't extinguished that easily. Forget about the things holding you back for a moment. What do you feel about him now?" Her gray eyes met his brown ones. "Do you think you could love him back?"

The pink turning into scarlet, Vyse glanced away, thinking of the night before everything went to hell, when he was wondering what it would be like to take his friendship with Ramirez to a deeper level.

/It was just stupid, random thoughts, though!/ he told himself fiercely. /I like girls. Girls, dammit! Not a guy like Ramirez! Sure, I liked being around him—it was fun talking to him, even if we were arguing—and I always wanted him to stay around me—and the closer we got, the easier and easier it was to talk to him—and sure, I worried about him when something was bothering him—but that's normal for friends! It's the same thing with me and Aika!/

On the other hand, he reminded himself as his brow creased in worried thought, Ramirez wasn't someone he regarded as family. And even with the whole disgusting suicide business—he wouldn't take that from anyone else, either, but when it came to the morose Silvite, somehow it just distressed him a hell of a lot more. Not to mention that his fellow swordsman's melancholy affected him so profoundly that it was even starting to infect him; Vyse couldn't think of anyone else who'd had such a powerful impact on him. Yes, he at last admitted to himself, Ramirez was important to him. If he died, or went back to Galcian, Vyse would miss him.

But was that enough for love?

"I...I don't know," he finally said. "I... Like you said, Ramirez means a lot to me, and if we could salvage it, I'd like our old friendship back." Returning to his seat, the Blue Rogue continued, "But I don't know about love. I...I'm not gay. Besides, it's not normal, is it?"

After a moment of careful thought, Arianne gently stated, "Normalcy is overrated. Rather than worrying about whether something is 'normal' or not, you should try to pick out the lifestyle that feels best for you. If in the end you decide you love Ramirez, that's fine. If in the end you decide that it's just close friendship after all, that's fine, too." She smiled a wide, friendly smile, shutting her eyes. "You should know that the most important thing is that you're happy, Vyse."

He grinned back, feeling a bit better. "Yeah, that's right," he reflected. "You should be true to yourself..." He sighed, his grin waning into a pensive smile. "It's still hard, though."

"These sorts of things always are," Arianne replied sympathetically. "Don't feel too bad about it."

"Yeah," he agreed, looking back out at the now clear, sun-drenched skies. "But still, Ramirez... The things you said earlier were true—both that he sacrificed everything else that was important to him for me..." He shook his head. "And that I'm afraid of him hurting me again." He grinned abashedly. "It's kinda stupid, huh? I mean, normally I don't let anything get me down, but here I am, hesitating over something like this..."

"No, it's natural to be afraid when someone you like hurts you emotionally," Arianne refuted, her smile kind. "And if he completely outmatched you in a swordfight, which he must have since he kidnapped you in the first place, then on some level you must be worried that if you get into that kind of fight with him again, next time he won't be so merciful as to spare your life.

"But Vyse," she continued, "by doing that, you're giving yourself a greater importance, both to your own life and to your own feelings, than you are giving to him. Even with the issue of suicide, you're telling yourself that you're stopping him because you don't like suicide and that you don't want him to die. I know you care about him, Vyse, and that's why you have to make his happiness your priority instead."

"I know, I know—" he protested, glancing at his feet, "it's just..."

"You understand how much he cares about you, don't you?" she interrupted. "So you have to give him a chance to redeem himself."

Looking up with a startled, alarmed stare, Vyse shook his head fiercely. "No, it's not like that at all!" he dissented. "I want to help him. I've been trying to help him! But he keeps making it so difficult! I've been trying to think of a better way, I swear! But every time I suggest a different solution than his death, he turns it down!"

An expression of understanding coming to Arianne's face, she nodded. "Aha... I'm sorry. I've lately realized I have a bad habit of assuming." She smiled empathetically and wistfully. "But still, it's enough to break your heart, isn't it? When you can't help the ones important to you, no matter how hard you try... But at the same time, you can't just leave them." She paused, then continued, "Vyse... No matter how much they've hurt you, all you can do is believe in those you care about. Certainly, it's an invitation for him to wound you again, but...if you truly want to save him, it's something you must do."

He smiled back supportively and stood. "Yeah...you're right," he said warmly. "Thanks, Arianne."

She shook her head, gazing fondly at her lap. "I'm just glad I could help."

The Blue Rogue hesitated, thinking of what Tierra and the others had told him about Arianne and Miran, and wondered if there weren't parallels she was drawing between herself and her tall companion, and him and Ramirez. Thinking of that, he ventured, "You know, now that I think about it, you sound like you've had some experience yourself in something like this."

The pianist woman smiled amiably up at him. "I've had a good amount of experience in a number of things."

Grinning slightly, he said apologetically, "Sorry, but I talked to Fidel and the others...and they explained to me what your relationship is with Miran." Seeing her drop his gaze back to her lap, though her smile more or less remained, Vyse continued, "It's not the same as with me and Ramirez, I know, but there are some similarities, aren't there? You want him to live a normal life, don't you? But then along came Ramirez, and he's all of a sudden remembering how things used to be, and he gives in to his personal hate...and there's barely a thing you can do to stop him." The Air Pirate leaned against the wall, crossing his legs. "But you must have it really tough... I've known Ramirez for nearly two lunar cycles. You've known Miran for nearly two years."

She smiled melancholically and nodded. "He's taken in my lessons for proper speech quite well, and his reading and writing aren't bad either, but it's harder to instill tranquility and forgiveness... It's enough to break your heart, isn't it?" Arianne quoted herself. "When you can't help the ones important to you, no matter how hard you try..."

The handsome rogue didn't know what to say, so he decided to simply do and say what his heart told him. So, he straightened himself, smiled comfortingly and offered his hand. "Let's both try our best," he said warmly. "We can't give up! If we do, then that's the same as letting them destroy themselves. So let's hang in there. I'm sure, in time, we'll be able to get through to them."

The flaxen-haired pianist looked at him wonderingly, then took his hand and stood. "Vyse..." she murmured. "...Is it all right if I hug you?"

Thrown off-balance by the sudden strange request, Vyse uttered, "Huh? Uh, sure."

She stepped closer to him and wrapped her slender arms around her torso, resting her cheek on his shoulder, looking out toward the door. Completely bewildered, the Blue Rogue patted her shoulders, and was alarmed when he heard her sniff loudly.

"Hey, are you all right?" he queried, concerned—it was bad enough that Ramirez was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, if not already undergoing it; he didn't want to have to deal with the Valuan woman, too.

"Yes..." she murmured in reply, smiling in spite of her tears. "It's just...I suddenly realized you remind me of him."

Blinking twice, the Air Pirate repeated, "'Him'?"

She pulled away then, shaking her head and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's nothing." With a warm smile, she inquired, "How old are you?"

Mystified by this question that seeming had nothing to do with anything, Vyse answered honestly, "Seventeen. Why?"

She chuckled, still smiling. "A shame you're so young... A girl really could fall for you, Vyse."

The Blue Rogue's eyes widened in sudden understanding, and giving a slight, nervous, but flattered laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the side and blushing faintly. The lovely young woman tilted her head, smiling in amusement, and rested a hand on the handsome rogue's shoulder comfortingly. "Good luck with Ramirez—and with everything else from now on."

He nodded and smiled back, deciding to let the matter rest. "Thanks. Good luck to you, too, Arianne."

Having reached an understanding, the two left the Valuan woman's room and split ways at the foot of the wooden stairs leading up to the bridge, with Arianne heading to the cargo room and Vyse heading up to join Miran and the others. The dark-haired helmsman glanced at him with a slight scowl, and rather than a greeting, his first words were, "Arianne isn't with you."

Not knowing whether to be annoyed with his rudeness or admire his protectiveness, Vyse said, recounting his parting words with the musician, "Yeah, she said she was going to do her piano practice for today."

"Nnh," the Lower Valuan muttered, shifting his eyes back out to the now clear skies.

"How long 'til we're to Crescent Isle?" the Blue Rogue queried, hoping to steer the conversation into a better direction. "There anything I can do to help?"

"Now that we're out of the storm, if we keep up a strong pace, we should get there by late this evening," Miran replied. "I'll have something for you to do later, but right now, there's just something I wanna ask you."

"Yeah?" the Blue Rogue replied.

"What are you going to do with him?"

Vyse's expression grew serious; there wasn't a need to specify who the 'him' in question was. He wasn't sure if he was happy that the former rebel had chosen to start this conversation, but he had to admit it was convenient; there were some things the young rogue wanted to ask him in return. Deciding to answer first, he said, "...I'm not entirely sure, myself."

"What does he want to do?"

The answer was a very sensitive one, and this time, instead of answering, Vyse said, "I'll tell you, but you have to promise to answer some of my questions, too."

Miran glanced at him briefly, then returned his gaze to the heavens. "Fine."

The Air Pirate rubbed the back of his neck nervously, looking down at his feet and recalling his conversation with Arianne, before he finally, painfully honestly, replied, "He told me that...he wants to die."

To his surprise, the Lower Valuan laughed, albeit dryly. "Does he now," he commented, equally dryly. "That explains why he told me he'd let me kill him if I took you to Crescent Isle."

In shock, Vyse stared at the older man, his mouth agape. "He said that?"

"When I first found you two," Miran replied easily. "It was before you woke up. But I hate killing people who won't fight back, and he dropped his sword, so as much as I would've liked to seize the opportunity..."

His low opinion of the man rising a bit, Vyse said hesitatingly, "I... I guess I'm glad about that, then..." Straightening slightly, he went on, "There's something I wanted to ask you, too."

"What?"

"Arianne told me about how she and you met," the rogue began, eliciting a frown from the ex-revolutionary, "and how you've been sailing together for two years. I don't know about her other moods, but she seems to be pretty sweet-tempered, and I can't help but wonder why you'd still be obsessing with revenge two years later."

Miran glared, scowling, full-on at the shorter sailor, his dark eyes narrowed. Vyse stared back without looking away, refusing to back away, and finally, he sneered and stated, "You've already forgiven that prick for what he's done to you, haven't you."

"So what if I have?" Vyse replied stubbornly, crossing his arms.

The dark-haired man's sneer curled a little more. "Tell me, when Ramirez burned down your base," he questioned coldly, "did anyone die?"

Vyse was silent; then he shook his head. He wasn't certain that there hadn't been any fatalities, but he didn't want to think about if there had been.

As if reading the young ship captain's mind, Miran said, "Imagine if they had died—if they'd all died. Imagine that Ramirez slaughtered all your friends, all your followers, except for you. Would you still be so lenient with him then, knowing everyone you care about died by his hand or order?" Without waiting for an answer, the knife-user glowered out at the horizon. "The fact that you think it's strange that I'm holding onto a grudge after only two years is proof that nothing truly bad has ever happened to you. It's easy to be merciful when you haven't seen the corpses of your friends strewn about like so much garbage!"

Struck by the older man's words, both by their content and their form—Arianne hadn't been exaggerating when she said he'd learned proper speech well—Vyse nevertheless stood his ground. "I can see where you're coming from, and believe me, I'm not one for letting the Empire get away with something like that," he argued, "but it's been two years. You're just going to make yourself miserable if you keep carrying a grudge like that. Besides, you're hurting Arianne!"

The three other crew members of the Nightingale, who had up 'til that point been busy pretending to be unable to hear the conversation, finally couldn't hide it any longer, and now outright stared at the two men, undeniably curious to see Miran's response.

Miran obliged them by responding frigidly, "First of all, what happens between Arianne and me is none of your fucking business. Second of all, you just don't understand, so I'm not going to try to make you."

"What don't I understand?" Vyse demanded, reminded distinctly of Ramirez.

"The fact that hatred doesn't fade that easily," the Lower Valuan snapped, "and how strong the bonds of loyalty are." As the Blue Rogue stared at him, dumbstruck and chilled by the uncanny echo of Ramirez's words in what Miran said, the ex-terrorist continued, "If you knew anything about it, you'd know that it's not something anyone could throw away easily!!"

When Vyse didn't reply, Miran returned to scowling out at the skies. After several moments of silence, the latter finally asked quietly, "If he wants to die, let him. You don't owe him anything; he backstabbed you. You should stab him back."

Clenching a hand into a fist, the Blue Rogue replied angrily, "You're wrong. Yes, he betrayed me. But now he's trying to make up for it...and even if I was the only one who thought so, we were friends for a while. I won't abandon him!"

The dark-haired man peered at him for a moment, then muttered, "So you do understand, a little." He raised his eyes to the horizon and continued, "But that doesn't keep you from being an idiot."

With a small laugh, Vyse commented, "That sounds like something Ramirez would say."

Miran's knuckles promptly went white as his grip on the steering wheel increased by fifteen pounds. His teeth gritted to the point of grinding, he glared malevolently out of the corner of his eyes at Vyse.

Not letting it disturb him, the Air Pirate said calmly, "It's too bad you're so dead-set against Ramirez... The two of you probably have a lot in common. You should try talking to him."

In response, the Lower Valuan shot his right arm forward and roughly grabbed Vyse by the front of his shirt, then lifted him an inch from the floorboards. The Blue Rogue grabbed Miran's wrist out of reaction, but he couldn't do much more than glare at the taller man.

"I don't think," Miran began smoothly, "that we'll need your help. Just go back to your friend and wait for 'til we get to your island." And without waiting for an answer, he dropped the young ship captain back onto his feet and returned his attention to sailing.

The captain of the Delphinus retreated four steps, rubbing at his collar, and said defiantly, "Just because you don't like hearing it doesn't make it less true!"

"Get out before I throw you into Deep Sky," Miran snapped.

Vyse shook his head, but obeyed; if Arianne couldn't get him to let go of his past, he certainly wouldn't be able to. Instead of returning to the engine room, though, the Blue Rogue opted to hang out on deck, clearing off the occasional monsters that decided to drop by. Getting active helped clear his thoughts, and that was just what he needed to sort through everything he'd learned.

Miran... Though Vyse couldn't say he liked the man, he might have had some insight on how Ramirez thought—though the Blue Rogue doubted either would like hearing that. Hatred and loyalty... Ramirez couldn't let go of those, either, could he? That's why he couldn't forget about Galcian...

/Maybe I'm being selfish, though,/ Vyse mused sadly, thinking of what Arianne had said. /Ramirez and I haven't known each other for that long, and he's been working for Galcian for years... Of course the guy'd be important to him. I wish Ramirez didn't overreact so much, though... For someone who acts so stand-offish, he sure is emotional.../

He sighed, swiping at a Looper and watching it swoop out of the way and make a break for it along with its companions. Fighting sure was lonely when you had to do it by yourself... Ramirez was always alone, wasn't he? Even if he was near people, he always shut them out and kept to himself... In that way, he'd always been fighting by himself—he'd always been lonely. But perhaps somewhere along the way, he'd convinced himself that being alone was better, since the alternative was being near the people whom he believed were scum, aside from Galcian...

And somehow, he had made him begin to think differently. Vyse didn't know whether or not he should be proud of accomplishing such a feat... Reflecting on Arianne's relationship with Miran, he figured he probably should be. But at the same time, it was the very thing that now made Ramirez, all pretenses aside, want to die. The Blue Rogue wasn't sure it was worth that...

Taking a breather in between battles, Vyse leaned against the door leading back into the Nightingale and turned his brown eyes to the growing form of the Red Moon. He remembered how, not that long ago, he had sworn to himself to help his Silvite companion overcome the darkness in his heart, but... Considering the situation, could he still do that? Had he ever been able to do it?

The captain of the Delphinus smiled ruefully, shaking his head. It also wasn't that long ago that he would have been facing any situation with an undefeatable attitude and unmatchable vigor, but those were just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill impossible odds and never-before-done feats. This time, it was the feelings and life of someone for whom he cared on the line... Vyse wasn't sure if his priorities were backwards, and he thought that maybe he might be a hypocrite. In his dream, the Blue Rogue had asked his fellow swordsman how one person could be so important, but here he was, completely willing to risk everything to give Ramirez a second chance—or was it third, now? Vyse had lost count... It truly begged the question:

Is one person really more important than the rest of the world?

Clearly, that was so for Ramirez. First he was willing to go so far as to let Galcian have control of the Rains of Destruction because he thought Galcian was the only person who could save the world—something Vyse still couldn't understand—and now, he threw away his dedication to that very man for him...

/I have other things to take care of—I have my ship and my crew to think about, and there's still lots of things I want to do, amazing things I want to see, places I want to go.../ Vyse thought, gazing at the passing cirrus clouds. /And I've got to protect everyone from whatever Galcian's trying. But still, I want to protect Ramirez.../

He thought of the words of comfort he'd given Arianne, sheathed his cutlasses, and headed back inside. There was no avoiding it; he had to talk to the silver-haired former Admiral if he wanted to get anywhere. And since Ramirez refused every other option—well, he'd just have to bring him to Crescent Isle after all. The young ship captain was fully aware of how foolhardy that was, but it was his last resort short of letting Ramirez die, which he refused to let happen at any cost...and that was that.

Making his way to the engine room, Vyse entered the noisy room, walked over to and sat down next to Ramirez, and took a deep breath. "Hey... Ramirez..." he began.

The Silvite glanced over at him wordlessly, dark circles under his eyes more noticeable than ever. The Blue Rogue wondered briefly how long it had been since the former Admiral had last slept before continuing, "Do you mind if we talk?"

As he gazed at Vyse, Ramirez felt the urge to tell the well-meaning rogue to go away flare up, but his will to resist soon drained away, and he glanced at his feet morosely. "...Fine."

"You said you don't have anywhere to go..." the pirate said.

"...Yes."

"If...that's the case," he said nervously, "would you mind staying with me—I mean, at Crescent Island? I know, I know," he hastily added when he saw his companion frown, "a lot of people aren't gonna be happy to see you, but it's better than nowhere, right?"

Still frowning, Ramirez carefully said, "...I don't think that's wise."

"But you said you don't have anywhere to go," the brunet rogue argued.

"Vyse..." the silver-haired man said with an edge of exasperation. He shut his eyes, waited three seconds, then continued, "That includes Crescent Isle. I'll be surprised if they don't try to lynch me there, with your redheaded friend leading the mob."

Stung by the Silvite's overly honest words, Vyse let his shoulders sag. "...I'm just trying to help."

His tone emotionless, Ramirez replied, "You can't help me."

The Air Pirate was unhappily reminded again of his dream, of the flower petals rising into the heavens... His expression sad, Vyse said quietly, "Don't say that."

The Silvite looked away, falling silent; to him, the conversation had been a failure from the start, and there was no point in trying to prod it further.

Vyse was not of a like mind, and he glanced over at his companion, then ventured, "It's just...you gave up so much just to help me."

The former Admiral didn't reply for several seconds; then he merely shrugged.

"I..." the Blue Rogue began, his cheeks turning pink. "I just want to thank you."

This prompted a surprised stare from the white-haired swordsman. "Eh...?"

A little gratified by the response, the Air Pirate smiled and pointed out, "I mean, you saved my life."

"...I..." Ramirez uttered, his cheeks beginning to match the color of Vyse's. He averted his green eyes quickly and felt an acute vertigo from the sudden action. Once he recovered, he murmured, "...If I hadn't betrayed you to begin with, your life wouldn't have needed saving. You shouldn't feel obliged to thank me for anything."

"I know that," Vyse said calmly, his confidence reviving. "You still could have turned me over for execution, though. But you didn't."

Feeling his head spin, though he didn't know whether it was from the pirate's continued forgiveness or from his own exhaustion, the ex-Admiral swayed on the spot, shaking his head slightly to try to ward away the sleep that threatened to overtake him.

"I just wanted you to know that," the pirate added as a prompt.

"...I...am not quite sure what to say," Ramirez replied, raising his right index and middle finger to his temple.

With a smile, the brunet youth said warmly, "If you want to call me an idiot, it's okay. But I still appreciate what you did."

The jade-eyed man gazed at Vyse with a pinched expression, reminded again of why he fell for the dashing rogue. The look was not lost on its target, and the Air Pirate added quickly, feeling his chest tighten, "...I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

The faded blue of depression swimming in his fading vision, Ramirez blinked slowly, fatigued. /...It hurts.../ he managed to think, losing badly against his opponent Somnus. /It hurts to be this close to him, and knowing that I can't close that distance.../

"...Is there anything you want to talk to me about?" the Blue Rogue inquired, wanting to keep some kind of conversation going.

Only dimly hearing Vyse's words, the Silvite murmured, "Mm...?"

Having not noticed that Ramirez was on the verge of passing out, the young captain looked over at him, slightly confused, and quickly assumed the engine had muffled his words. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

The white-haired swordsman's eyelids drooped shut as he faded into unconsciousness, and with barely a whisper of rumpled clothing, Ramirez fell to the side until his head came to rest on Vyse's shoulder.

The Air Pirate stared, his face hot, as his companion collapsed onto him. "Rami...rez?" he tried. "Hey..." He kept his eyes fixed on the Silvite for several moments longer, wondering what in the Moons he was going to do.

Eventually, though, his brown eyes softened, and with a slight smile, he thought, /I'll let him stay that way. I'd hate to have to bother him.../

He fondly continued to watch the shallowly breathing ex-Admiral for several moments longer. /I wonder how much sleep he's gotten recently,/ he mused. /He must be really tired, to just collapse like that... I think it's been about two days since I last saw him sleep, and before that, he probably didn't get any sleep at all. He couldn't have been sleeping very well the night before that, if he did at all, and the night before that, he had a nightmare... Moons. Poor Ramirez.../ His smile widened. /Bet he'd hate it if he knew I thought that.../

Biting back a laugh, the Blue Rogue thought, /He really looks calm like this. I don't think I've ever really watched him sleeping before... Heh. It's kind of sweet. It's nice to see him at peace for once. And not like he was in my dream.../

His mirth melted off of his face as tendrils of depression threaded around his heart while he recalled that nightmare, but he shook his head carefully, so as not to awaken his fellow swordsman. /Ramirez, I hope everything turns out all right. For your sake.../

Vyse folded his hands over his knees, gazing up at the ceiling as Ramirez dozed, enjoying the closeness in spite of himself. He smiled again slightly, glancing at him. /I wish I could save you... I hope I can save you.../ he thought, the smile once again fading. /But in spite of what I told Arianne, I just don't know what to do. Ramirez.../

He sighed, and closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the wall. Lulled by the engine, he soon drifted off, forgetting his worries, at least for a time. Several hours later, he floated into consciousness as easily as he had into sleep, and blinking groggily, he peered around his surroundings, his thoughts muddled. Glancing over at the former Admiral, he noticed he still slumbered, and wondered how long he himself had slept.

Before remembering himself, the Blue Rogue reached up a hand and touched the Silvite's face to brush his bangs out of his eyes. Ramirez surprisingly still didn't awaken, and even though the young captain belatedly recalled how light a sleeper his fellow swordsman was, the former Admiral's lack of response encouraged him to attempt another gentle touch. Lightly, he traced the slumbering man's jaw line, before halting out of fear of rousing Ramirez, and dropping his hand back to his lap.

/I really shouldn't. He might be upset if I woke him./

So he stared over at the door, wondering when they would reach Crescent Isle, and if Ramirez would awaken soon—preferably before anyone came in and found them like this. He didn't have the heart to rouse him himself—Moons knew the Silvite needed some good rest--but at the same time, it was pretty embarrassing...

Minutes passed, and it was after perhaps a half-hour that Ramirez stirred and awoke. The Silvite's pale lashes parted, and as he lifted his head and realized on whom he had been sleeping, he jerked away as if he had been stung, falling back into a crouch. He glared at Vyse as if somehow it had been his fault, then sharply averted his eyes, his cheeks flushed faint scarlet.

"Sorry..." the Blue Rogue murmured, though it wasn't his fault, and both of them knew it. "I didn't want to wake you." A moment of tense silence passed between the two before Vyse stood, and scratching the back of his neck nervously, said, "I'm going to go see how far we have left to go, okay? I'll be right back."

Ramirez still didn't look at Vyse, letting his pale hair hide his face. His only reply was a terse nod.

The brunet man left the room, and sought out a member of the crew. He found Fidel shortly, who seemed to have been searching for him in kind.

"Vyse, there you are!" he smiled. "Just wanted to let you know, Crescent Isle's on the horizon."

Vyse smiled in return, though inside he was worried about what was to come. "That's good; I was going to ask when you thought we would arrive. Sorry for being rude, but I should go get my things together, right?" he replied.

"Don't worry about it. Yes, it's probably best that you pack up." The Valuan musician paused, looking pensive, and added, "You know, Vyse... Is it really okay for Ramirez to go back to Crescent Isle? After what you told us..."

Vyse gazed off into the sky, his expression vaguely sad. "I don't know. But he has no where else to go, and I owe him my life..."

"Well, it's just that your friends—you must know how they're going to react." Fidel smiled half-heartedly. "Angry would be an understatement, I think, although if you think they'll understand, you'd know them best. Just...be careful, all right?"

Vyse nodded. "I'll just have to see what happens," he replied.

The violinist waved and headed up to the bridge, probably to relay the message that he'd found the Blue Rogue. Said rogue, in the meantime, headed back to the engine room, his feelings not so much mixed as pureed. He opened the door, and entered the room, where Ramirez was still sitting against the wall.

"Hey, um..." he began, more than a little apprehensive of the coming confrontation but opting against subtlety, "Crescent Isle is on the horizon. We'll be there soon."

"Shall I pitch myself into Deep Sky now, or wait for your orange-haired friend to do it for me?" Ramirez replied morosely.

"Hey...don't say things like that," Vyse replied, his expression pained.

The Silvite sighed and got to his feet. "So how are you going to stop that from happening, then?" he inquired, his tone resigned but with a trace of bitter sarcasm. "I suppose you'll simply tell them that I had a change of heart, and that they should welcome me back with open arms."

"I'll tell them the truth," the Blue Rogue replied, his expression stern.

A look of horror struck the former Admiral's face, and he abruptly turned away. "...Do as you please," he said stiffly, clearly not liking the idea.

"Sorry," Vyse replied, "but I think it's the best way."

"...When I told you how I felt," Ramirez said carefully, "you told me you hated me regardless. What makes you think they'll react any better?"

"Nothing does. They'll have to make their own decisions," the pirate stated.

The Silvite's hands tightened into fists, then relaxed as his arms sagged, dangling at his sides. He gazed up at Vyse, his jade eyes hopeless, and finally spoke. "Are you going to tell them...everything?" Bowing his head slightly, he murmured, "Including how...I kissed you?"

Vyse's cheeks turned pink. "I...think I'll omit that..." he said quietly.

The ex-Admiral smiled hopelessly. "I suppose I should thank the Moons for small favors."

Vyse looked off to the side, silent. He swore he could feel his face still burning. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about that, however momentarily. Besides, he couldn't even think of how he would tell Aika, or anyone, about something as personal and embarrassing as that. It was, he decided, an unnecessary detail.

With only minimal words exchanged, the two got their things together and changed out of the spare clothes into their now-dry usual outfits. Once they finished and shortly after reached Vyse's base, Arianne and the Blue Rogue exchanged words of thanks and well-wishing and assurances that no recompense was needed, though there was only a gloomy silence from Ramirez. The two jumped from the Nightingale to Crescent Isle, near the flagpole that proudly bore Fina's designed flag.

Vyse waved with a smile to his benefactors at they set sail, the words he had exchanged with the crew tumbling through his mind, and as Ramirez stood beside him, he couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't have objected if they had decided to come onto the island and help him explain the situation to Aika and the others...

Because, as he walked down to the island still being rebuilt, the night sky illuminated by artificial lights for those who needed to see to build, he knew he would have a hard time clearing up this whole mess to his childhood friend, who was at that moment, along with Gilder, Fina and Enrique, approaching the two of them at a run.




NOTES: We own nothing except our ideas. Don't take our ideas. All properties of Skies of Arcadia/Eternal Arcadia [Legends] belong to everyone it is to whom they belong.

Ayu: Just so everyone knows, Ianthe and I already have the rest of TDtMS planned out, right to the very end, so begging to do one thing or another isn't going to help. ^^ Also, we've managed a nice one-every-two-weeks update pattern for the past few chapters, this one included, but we've gotten a lot busier, and I can't guarantee that it'll be like that in the future, too. Thus, updates might get a lot more infrequent from now on—just giving you guys fair warning. We will try to make it one chapter per lunar cycle, which will still be better than it was for the first half of this year, but we can't make any guarantees, I'm afraid. In the meantime, if you like, re-read the previous chapters; Ianthe and I finally got around to editing them all, and some scenes have been changed, or things added, particularly in early chapters. Hey, at least it's something to do, eh? ^^;

Ayu: The lyric-title this time is taken from all the way, the OP to Kino no Tabi. Full lyrics can be found, as always, at my lyrics site, Campus Lyrics!, the link to which you can (indirectly) find below.

Contact deep.Indigo: deep.Indigo@negativenergy.zzn.com
Contact Ianthe of d.I: ianthefira@rangersgrove.zzn.com (URL: Ranger's Grove (rangersgrove.tripod.com))
Contact Ayu of d.I: ensoph@goddess.zzn.com (URL: ~ T H E : E T E R N A L : M I N D ~ (theeternalmind.sterlingsylver.net))