Wow. It's been over a year. And people still care! Okay that's it, you've got me inspired, I'll continue this just for those who were kind enough to leave me with their words. So should I tell you my excuse for stalling? It's school. It's so incredulously gay. Anyway, I'll let the mysterious airs surrounding my personal life stay mysterious. It diverts attention away from the story anyhow. Anyway, I'll try not to stall anymore (key word: try). If you feel the urgent need to read more (haha) go bug me with reviews. Happy belated holidays!
Heresy of Rain by cherry aka Mogrika
Part IV- A Lull Between Melodies
The battle rages on
Ow, that hurts! Freya exclaimed with mock-spite. Now observe. Freya placed cards down on the table with a winning hand. So now that I win, you have to help me wrap the presents and deliver them!
Amarant growled. Why poker? He asked the question more a way to divert Freya from her huge ego that was only swelling with her victory than anything else.
When there weren't battles to fight, we Dragoons would play poker. And just about everything else.
I see. Then, Amarant had a wicked thought. How about we play strip poker?
Freya jumped up in horror and shoved her lance at his face. Y-you jest!
Haha. Like anyone would want to see your skimpy body. Amarant walked off, smirking at her stupidity. She was so fun to tease.
Dirty cur. Freya crossed her arms and smirked back.
Well, if I'm so dirty, I guess I'll have to go and take a shower Amarant strode quickly but in that leisurely Amarant-ish stroll to her bathroom.
Not if I get there first! Freya shoved her polearm horizontally across the bathroom entrance to block Amarant.
What the hellever heard of guests first?
Ever heard of ladies first?
You're hardly a woman.
You're just sore that you lost. At poker. To me. With that Freya glided gracefully beneath her spear and said to Amarant who was only four inches away from her, My house—my rules.
The door shut with a grumbling Amarant facing it.
Damn rat woman, Amarant cursed loftily.
He was used to Freya's bossiness, competitiveness, and, in general, Freya-ness. He couldn't complain though. Without her bossiness, competitiveness, and et cetera, she would hardly be anything but an ordinary rat woman. Besides, she was better company than the purple-haired brat.
Although,' Amarant pondered, I could do without all her nagging.'
He sat on the couch that he claimed his and relaxed when he heard Freya start singing in the shower. She had apparently forgotten of Amarant's presence or just finally gone crazy. Nah, she had already lost her marbles. But be it insanity or not, Freya's beautiful voice echoed ethereally, bouncing off the walls of white ceramic bathroom tiles and creating something of an angelic echo.
Amarant tried not to notice.
Yet, the melody pulled him in. There was a sense of deep longing, of undeniable aching, of nostalgic retrospection, and of delicate happiness that was, nonetheless, capable of coping. Amarant walked slowly towards the bathroom door, step by cautious step as Freya's floorboards protested against the dirty and heavy footsteps. He paused about four feet in front of the door. He was thinking. The song with all it's pain and happiness and longingit could have been the story of Freya's life. Where had she learned such a song?
Maybe it was an ancient song like the Dagger's, Amarant said aloud. The thought just a random assumption. He wasn't serious about it, though. Fairy tales, he muttered, and he sat on the couch again.
By now, Freya had stopped her yodeling and humming and singing and was out of the shower fully dressed. Your turn, she said pertly.
Okay, Miss Perky, Amarant said sarcastically.
Don't forget what you owe me Freya walked off victoriously. She was enjoying this too much.
So yeahshe won that one. Why couldn't he ever win?
Maybe it's this damn house, Amarant muttered darkly.
~*~
Wow, nice furniture, commented Amarant sardonically on Freya's furnishings. There sat in the center of her room a disciplined ensemble of a table and a few chairs with the backs ramrod straight. Doesn't this woman relax?' thought Amarant, stroking his chin with wonder. 'Normal people would relax at home. Then again, she's not normal.'
Welcome to my humble abode, Freya started to say with a regal bow. She stopped half-way, however, remember that it was Amarant, and he didn't really give a shit. She laughed heartily as she regained her posture. Amarant looked ambivalent between bowing and not. He was sort-of bobbing his head. And he looked very uncomfortable. But then she wonderedwhy was he doing it? Why would he even think about bowing when he had never minded manners before? Hmfunny how things change.
Gotten more polite already, have we? Freya laughed again heartily and walked off to the kitchen to make some tea.
You wish. I was only trying to pick up something I dropped, Amarant expression was unreadable.
Sure, sure, Freya said airily dismissing his excuse with a wave of her hand.
Amarant was uncomfortable standing there so he walked off to the couch and plopped down on it, stretching out the poor tidy thing. He must have felt as out of place as he looked because he shifted uncomfortably and then proceeded to just sit properly.
Nah,' he thought. This isn't working.' He was still uncomfortable.
So Amarant stretched out on the couch and lay there with his hands behind his head and a foot resting on her shiny coffee table. Much better.
Freya, who was making a soothing cup of tea, appeared from the kitchen and did not happen to see Amarant lying down, saw the couch and sauntered towards it with not an echo rising from her gentle footsteps. She jumped over the couch and—surprise, surprise—she was greeted with the bewildered face of Amarant which would have been bewildered if it could be seen. Amarant moved himself just in time so that Freya wouldn't land on his stomach. Still, the two were unbearably close. For a moment, they met eye-to-eye in utter silence. But they were too close, and a great terror inside the two fearless warriors arose so that it was pulsating in their throats. Something. They were battling it. They couldn't bear it. So they fled.
What the hell do you think you're trying to pull? Amarant demanded, more embarrassed then anything else.
Me? What are you talking about! This is the second time today that you've tried to take advantage of me! How can you say—Hey wait! Where are you going? Don't leave while I'm yelling at you! Freya slid before Amarant. Where are you going?
Amarant grunted. He shoved Freya out of his way and headed for the restroom.
She was shocked at his abrupt rudeness. She shouldn't have been. She had been victim to it before. But now that he was here, it was different somehow. Maybe it was the fact that they were within the closed quarters of her home where the two were bound to cross paths. Or maybe it was the fact that many times today, the two had been so close to each other, they could feel each other's very pulse. Maybe it was because today, she had been close with two men—one, her former lover who she had not forgotten yet, and the other a close friend to help her forget. But she was hurt by Amarant's behavior just now. He was a close friend, but just now, he had treated her just like a commoner or a stranger. Just like Fratley had done.
~*~
When Amarant got out of the shower, he went straight to the living room without speaking to Freya. He changed back into his usual battle attire and headed towards the door. He was leaving again.
You know, it's snowing outside of Burmecia. I don't think Treno is close enough tonight. Freya hadn't even turned her head from where she was on the couch. She had been peering into an old book when Amarant had attempted to leave.
I don't think your house is far enough, Amarant countered in reply. Oh, and decorations wouldn't hurt to spice up the place.
That did it. Freya stood up and walked over to Amarant dangerously.
You owe me, she said bluntly. Her steely voice was colder than the forbidding snow in the town square.
You don't really care, said Amarant, still facing the door but paused for now.
It's not the prospect of wrapping and delivering presents which you owe me. You promised. Don't go back on your word. Like you did before
Amarant whirled around and a surprised Freya backed up a step. She had said too much and expected to hear Amarant's harsh and accusing words but instead he laughed.
Eerie.
I just can't win. Amarant haphazardly threw his travel necessities on the couch. He, too, threw himself on the couch and stretched out comfortably. Amarant half sat up and asked expectantly.
Freya just threw a bunch of sheets at Amarant. She got a muffled noise in response.
This is what I get for being fair, Amarant muttered as soon as he crawled out from under the sheets.
At least we didn't have a fight which I would have won yet again, Freya said as she selected a book from her ornate bookshelf. She sat in a chair next to Amarant in the dark room lit only by a fireplace and Christmas lights outside.
what are you doing? asked Amarant, motioning to Freya's lovely room which she could have to herself if only she would leave.
Reading about myths, Freya answered, oblivious to Amarant's gestures.
She closed the book shut with both hands and looked at Amarant as if answering his unspoken question. Not fairy tales—myths. It's quite interesting how people interpreted the world back in the Eras of Shadows.
Amarant said disinterestedly.
Yes. The populace of the olden days had many heathen beliefs to which they adhered. Take for instance—
Thanks for the lecture, but I didn't ask, Amarant interrupted, his back facing Freya.
I know you didn't ask. You never do. Even though you want to know anyway. Freya let her words sink in for several minutes before she spoke again.
Amarant didn't answer. He pretended to be asleep. He would win this time.
Freya walked towards Amarant and covered him up with the blanket. For some reason she felt maternal. Strange. She returned to her chair and took up reading once more.
Amarant didn't notice Freya's gesture. He was asleep. As soon as his eyes closed, he was off into the realm of Somnus, dreaming up some wicked or abstract dream.
Freya crept closer to the fireplace and stared at the mysterious light that radiated from the flames. The fire danced and flowed like water. It was almost like watching an upside down waterfall cascade from earth to heaven. The dancing flames burst forth from their crevices in the wood as they longed to free themselves from the dam and be free flowing. Fire was water, water was fire. They had different forms but they both flowed in the same endless movement. Freya wondered if, perhaps, fire and water had been one element once.
What was she thinking? Fire and water—one element? It was much too late for her to be thinking rationally. Freya got up and went to her room but her bed was cold. Argh, now what?' she thought, frustrated. She got up slowly and tiptoed back to the living room. Amarant was still there. Well of course he's still there!'
Much too late for me to be wandering, she muttered, shaking her head.
Freya crept towards the fireplace and tried to sleep in front of it, but by now, even the flames had gone to sleep and crept back into their nests to lie dormant until the next awakening.
She sighed. I hope Amarant doesn't mind'
She crept by his side on the couch and sat on the floor, resting her back on front side of the couch and letting her head droop lower and lower until her signature dragon hat was all that could be seen of her head.
It was warm here.
And so she slept, soundly and comfortably.
~*~
The sun was out when Freya groggily awoke, and with a start, she realized she was sleeping on the couch, too.
Oh goodness, Amarant! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to— she started. Then she turned around and realized she was alone. "Oh good," she sighed, very relieved. Being to close to Amarant made her uncomfortable. It was good that he wasn't next to her. But if he wasn't on the couch, where could he be? She searched the house for Amarant, thinking she might have crawled up and joined him on accident and he had just moved to a different location. But the rooms were left untouched. Seeing that Amarant was truly gone, she went to the kitchen and sat down to a lonely breakfast.
Alone again, she murmured. She felt a sad sort of feeling wash over her. Like the aftermath of a fun party. The day she spent with Amarant was kind of like that. After all, both parties and Amarant were accompanied with fighting, crude humor, and wellmore fighting if it was a Burmecian party. Still, Amarant's presence always seemed to lighten her mood, especially if he was visiting her at home. Freya practiced more discipline in the presence of the rest the crew, but Amarant understood. There was some sort of untouched, unspoken connection between the two. Kind of like they shared an inside joke.
Freya sighed and began to wrap presents for Puck. She brought out a box of ribbons and foil. She angrily wrapped each present with the stupid shiny foils and finished them off with bows that she kept curling and curling until they looked like the ugly haired wigs of Lowell when he played magistrates. She was bitter that Amarant had broken his promise, but what could she do? She stopped curling and looked at her masterpiece, or rather, victim of experimentation. The poor present seemed to be peering at her meekly, letting her vent her anger on it.
It must have been the present's lucky day.
The anger that Freya had felt a minute before seeped out of her body, and she was just left with cold longing. The weather made it no better. But she ignored this and just wrapped the presents in their cold, reflective foils and ribbons, staring outside the window with a yearning demeanor. She wished she could share the holidays with somebody—anybody
It was going to be another Christmas alone.
Freya sighed. At least I've got my tea.