Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. I don't own what I don't own. I hope you all like this, though feel free to flame. Tell me what I'm doing wrong just as often as what I'm doing right, or I can't fix it. And I rather like flames...they add to the fire used to cook my nice marsh-y mellows! Assuming I ever get any...T.T And note that this is based off the point in the side-mission 'Old Friends' when Marche gives Ritz a Blue Rose. Or he does if you have it and decide to. . Which I did.
Blue Rose--A Final Fantasy Tactics Advance Fanfiction
By Forever3330
Thump.
Bag by the door, kick the worn leather shoes off, unwind the scarf and take off the jacket, shiver. A well-known routine, by now. The girl with hair the color of pure snow smirked at the silly, empty thoughts. Things to pass the time, nothing more and nothing less. Shara would laugh if she saw the high-spirited Ritz thinking in a way that did not end in something happening.
Ritz sighed, softly. She missed her friend. Despite the knowledge that they could travel back, something she had almost cried to discover, Shara was not of her world. Not of this one, at any rate. She couldn't call her up on the phone after school, or run up laughing behind her. But despite all her words, her family was here. And a very large part of her could never have left them forever. A very large part knew that a world built on dreams was not a world of everyone's dreams--that there were those who had no longer existed, just as those who had not existed came into being. Some were not happy. Some like Marche, some like those forgotten.
Walking up the stairs, she let her hand run up the rail, lingering on the smooth cool wood. Shara had helped, as Marche had, with her own vain problem. Vain, she now admitted, but forced on her from birth by her mother. She had never known how to love all of herself, and her mother had never taught her. Shara had not cared whatever others thought, had befriended the girl who she found fighting a small group of monsters all on her own. Shara had known herself, and liked herself.
She taught the same feelings to Ritz without trying, by simply being there. But that within itself had not stopped what Ritz had known from birth.
Marche had tilted his head, frowned, and said quite clearly and plainly that he thought her hair was red naturally, and he saw no problems with white anyways.
Ritz had laughed and ranted to Shara for several days afterward, the viera listening with raised brows as she strung her bow.
It was really quite pathetic. Well, not so pathetic as it could be, but Ritz knew Marche was honest to a fault. It was endearing, really, but it was there, and the fact that he told the truth to her always made her sigh.
Really, even Mewt could lie. Well, especially Mewt in some cases.
The girl looked around, and laughed.
Her room was so very blue.
Like the withered petals of a once-blue rose, pressed carefully into a paper and framed.
Marche was something she couldn't be. Perfect despite the inperfections.
But that was something love did to a person, wasn't it? That view...
Ritz laughed, and touched the frame.
"Maybe I'll tell you, Marche...tomorrow...I think I may be ready to think I deserve you..."
END
Notes: . . YAY! O.o;
Blue Rose--A Final Fantasy Tactics Advance Fanfiction
By Forever3330
Thump.
Bag by the door, kick the worn leather shoes off, unwind the scarf and take off the jacket, shiver. A well-known routine, by now. The girl with hair the color of pure snow smirked at the silly, empty thoughts. Things to pass the time, nothing more and nothing less. Shara would laugh if she saw the high-spirited Ritz thinking in a way that did not end in something happening.
Ritz sighed, softly. She missed her friend. Despite the knowledge that they could travel back, something she had almost cried to discover, Shara was not of her world. Not of this one, at any rate. She couldn't call her up on the phone after school, or run up laughing behind her. But despite all her words, her family was here. And a very large part of her could never have left them forever. A very large part knew that a world built on dreams was not a world of everyone's dreams--that there were those who had no longer existed, just as those who had not existed came into being. Some were not happy. Some like Marche, some like those forgotten.
Walking up the stairs, she let her hand run up the rail, lingering on the smooth cool wood. Shara had helped, as Marche had, with her own vain problem. Vain, she now admitted, but forced on her from birth by her mother. She had never known how to love all of herself, and her mother had never taught her. Shara had not cared whatever others thought, had befriended the girl who she found fighting a small group of monsters all on her own. Shara had known herself, and liked herself.
She taught the same feelings to Ritz without trying, by simply being there. But that within itself had not stopped what Ritz had known from birth.
Marche had tilted his head, frowned, and said quite clearly and plainly that he thought her hair was red naturally, and he saw no problems with white anyways.
Ritz had laughed and ranted to Shara for several days afterward, the viera listening with raised brows as she strung her bow.
It was really quite pathetic. Well, not so pathetic as it could be, but Ritz knew Marche was honest to a fault. It was endearing, really, but it was there, and the fact that he told the truth to her always made her sigh.
Really, even Mewt could lie. Well, especially Mewt in some cases.
The girl looked around, and laughed.
Her room was so very blue.
Like the withered petals of a once-blue rose, pressed carefully into a paper and framed.
Marche was something she couldn't be. Perfect despite the inperfections.
But that was something love did to a person, wasn't it? That view...
Ritz laughed, and touched the frame.
"Maybe I'll tell you, Marche...tomorrow...I think I may be ready to think I deserve you..."
END
Notes: . . YAY! O.o;