Within Holy Walls

by trimurti

After eight years of working in Murond, a troubled young cataloguer is transferred to Lionel. Now it's time for Reis Dular to learn how to live, how to love, and how to let go...

7. 7: Intentions

Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Seven: Intentions (A case for unprotected dating)

-0-

I don't really understand how it came about, but the Glabados Church has an agreement of sorts with the Eastern Lands. For easy immigration to Ivalice--or the church-owned parts of it, at least--the people of the Eastern Lands have given the Church mystical warriors such as 'samurai', 'ninja', and 'oracles', the latter of whose skillset the Temple Knights have adopted as their own.

Another gift, lesser known but no less important, were the blueprints for structures called 'bathhouses'.

I don't really care about warriors and fighting and such, but I do like feeling clean.

The bathhouse is actually on church grounds, to the northeast of the church itself. The walkway over to it is just before the main hallway turns left to the back of the church. The structure is split into two sections for men and women.

Inside the female section I sit on a small wooden stool. All my clothes and toiletries are on the bench that runs along the inner edge of the building. Nobody else is here.

Good.

I pick up a bar of soap and methodically begin soaping myself up, all the while wondering about tonight. Tonight I have dinner with Beowulf.

I don't know why, but something's still nagging at me about tonight. Something's off. Maybe I should've asked him why he asked me to meet him, but I feel like I should already know. Somehow, I don't think the answer is just because we're friends.

My upbringing didn't really allow me to learn a lot about the interaction between humans. Well, I guess I'd understand it from a family sort of view, but...

--That's fine. Seven in front of the barracks. Right. Well, I better get going...I have some things to do. Good night, Reis--

The way he was talking was more stilted than usual. Family members aren't that nervous with each other...

...Beowulf was nervous?

I reach for my bottle of hair soap where all my stuff is on the bench, squeezing out a bit of it and rubbing it into my hair. Now, why would Beowulf be nervous? I mean, he's shown that he has the amazing ability to say whatever he wants to with total disregard to how I might feel about it.

--But...I think that you look beautiful, even with a glare on your face...you're really one of a kind--

I lower my arms slowly. Maybe Beowulf is just weird, or maybe I'm just overanalyzing him.

...This is annoying!

I look around for a bucket. Ah, how convenient, there's one behind my little stool. I stand and walk over to the spigot just above the bench and to the left of my things, feeling the cold tiles beneath my feet. Well, it's about to get a lot colder. I turn the handle, letting my bucket fill with water, then I turn it off and dump the cold water on my head.

Cold!

As the soapy water flows down my legs and to the drain situated in the center of the room, I can still hear the crackling of the soap in my hair, still see the fluffy white suds drifting downward on my body.

I smile ruefully as I fill up the bucket again.

-0-

Minutes later, covered in goosebumps but no longer in soap, I make my way to the large body of water in the back of the room. Faint wisps of steam gently rise and dissipate on the water's surface. I don't know how the water stays heated, no matter the time. I guess there's a sort of automated heating system underneath the bath, like some sort of device regularly scoops up coal and throws it into a furnace or something. Goug Machine City is in Lionel, after all.

I crouch carefully before the edge of the bath. It looks like it has been recently heated. Okay, Reis, just remember that this is a luxury.

None too gently, I jump into the bath.

Despite my better judgment, I don't jump out of the bath. I feel like I'm simmering, like I'm blushing all over my body. It's really hot at first, but the feeling is easy to get used to. Besides, the water level goes only up to the bottom of my ribcage, so it's not like all of me is cooking.

...Ah...

I can't stay long tonight or else I'll get wrinkly all over--I don't want Beowulf to see my wrinkly hands or something--but for now this is nice.

"Oh, did you hear about Peppermint?"

I start. Who said that?

I hear feet smacking against the tiles, and I sink into the bath slightly. I don't want to be seen. I was hoping I could have some time to relax...

"Oh, no, what did she..." The voice falters. "Who is that?" This is asked in a harsh, carrying whisper, and I narrow my eyes. It's a good thing I'm facing away from the entrance.

"Isn't that the cataloguer from Murond?" A different, higher-pitched voice squeaks.

"Oh, right, the one on loan." The first one says, and I sink lower. On loan? That makes me sound like a chocobo...

"Yeah, Priest Buremonda's pet." Another, more alto voice giggles.

...Pet?

They busy themselves with soaping up and knocking buckets around and shrieking at the cold water. I don't move an inch. I feel cold.

Pet? I don't know what that means, but that sounds pretty...I don't know. All these strange words and slang terms...modern Ivalician seems more complicated than its past incarnations. I better ask someone what that means...but probably not Beowulf. It doesn't sound like something I'd want him to hear.

But I want to know. It has to do with me, after all.

The three women enter the bath, and I can feel their eyes on me. It's kind of strange to stare at other people in the bath, you know. "Excuse me?" the squeaky-voiced one asks in a hesitant tone, and I sigh and turn around.

The three women are shorter than me and with more filled out figures. Two are brunettes, one a blonde, their hair piled high on their heads and secured with hair ties and towels. I think they're white mages, just because most women at Murond are. "Hi," the brunette on the right squeaks, "we haven't seen you around before."

That's because I take baths late at night to avoid people. I nod.

"You're the cataloguer from Murond, right? What's your name?" asks the blonde in the middle. I feel vaguely defensive now. Why all the questions?

"Yes, that's me. My name is Reis Dular." I bow my head slightly. They stare at me with befuddled expressions.

I feel so out of place...

"It's a pleasure," the brunette on the left coos in a tone so fake that my ears feel like closing in upon themselves. She turns to her friends. "So, what about Peppermint?"

"Oh, you won't believe it! She's actually still going steady with one of the knights!" The brunette on the right exclaims, hurting my ears in the process. The blonde splashes around, eyes wide.

"By Saint Ajora, you can't be serious! What do you think Priest Buremonda and Sir Kadmus are going to do when they find out?"

I turn around at this point, because it's blatantly obvious no one's talking to me. The movement stirs the water, making me feel warm again. Ah...

"Well, Priest Buremonda's going to severely reprimand her, of course. He might even kick her out!"

"That's what she deserves, you know. It's totally against the rules for us to have a relationship with a knight."

"Are you going to tell Priest Buremonda about her, Scarlet?"

"Why should I? After all, no one can hide a relationship for very long in a church."

What an odd conversation. It's also a loud one, so I step out of the bath and walk over to the bench, pulling on my robe and slipping my feet into my slippers. I gather up my things and make my way to the entrance.

"Good, she's leaving. Wasn't she creepy? All quiet and polite...oh, she's weird!"

"You say that just because you're jealous of her looks."

"No way! She's so thin, and did you see that scar on her stomach?"

They may be whispering, but I can hear them very plainly. As I trod along the walkway back to my room, I place my right hand against the bottom of my rib cage, feeling the softness of my robe. There's a long, horizontal scar there, angry red even after being laid upon my skin for eight years.

I'm sure that such a vivid feature like that has an amazing story behind it.

I wish I could remember it.

-0-

--dingdingDONGding--

Back in my room, I count the number of loud bells while drying my hair with a towel. When I'm inside the bells don't seem to bother me as much, but they're still pretty loud. I drop my towel and reach for the brush I had left on the bed before leaving for the bath.

Hm, it's six. Plenty of time.

After a few strokes of the brush, I throw it onto my bed and head over to my valise, next to the bed. I kind of wish I had a closet, or at least something to put all my clothes in.

Beowulf's cape from his Shrine Knight armor rests on top of my valise. Should I return it to him tonight...?

Well...no. I'll wait until he asks me for it back. I'm...I'm kind of used to seeing it here, a nicely-folded lump of purple in my otherwise drab room. I move it aside and open up my case, and various colors spring out at me in my dark room. I think I'll wear one of my specially made outfits, since Beowulf really seemed to like my last one. Now, which one...?

Oh...this one for sure...

I pull out a dark--actually indigo--bundle, and an undergarment, which I promptly put on. I unfold the bundle, revealing an indigo samurai outfit and a lilac top. The top is designed like the original striped top that female samurai wear, but with shorter sleeves and...well, I didn't care for the yellow and blue stripes of the original. I take off my robe and slip on the top, then I step into the outfit...the pants part of it is so roomy. Locating the ties on the sides of the outfit, I pull and pull until it's snug enough, then tie off the sides. After a bit of adjustment, everything feels perfect.

I feel really good about this. I'm not used to that, but it is a nice feeling.

I crouch down and reach underneath my bed until I pull out my black traveling boots, putting them on with practiced ease. Now, should I leave my hair down...well, this is a samurai outfit, so where's my hair tie...?

After tying up my hair into a high tail, I find some money in my valise and put it in my pocket. Beowulf and I had split on our lunch last time, and I expect to do the same this time. Let's see...usually the nights are pretty warm once spring comes around, and May starts tomorrow so I shouldn't need a mantle or cloak. I've got my money, I'm wearing a nice outfit, and I'm feeling good.

Okay, I'm ready.

-0-

I've never walked outside of the church at night, and it seems I haven't missed anything in not doing so. It's very quiet, with the occasional chirping of cicadas making this a comfortable night. I look up at the bell tower on top of the church; the clock situated on it reads six-fifty.

Good. I'd hate to be late.

I stroll over to the barracks, taking in this beautiful night. Tiny stars sparkle in the distance. A waning half moon hangs low in the sky. And to think, I get to spend this time with Beowulf...

Reaching the barracks, I knock on the door. There are various voices inside, none that I recognize instantly. I guess the knights are actually inside for once. There's a dull glow coming from the sides of the building. Lanterns, I think. I should get one if I want to do some sewing at night...

The door swings open, surprising me. I should've paid attention to any footsteps coming to the door. A young man with light brown hair, a disheveled uniform and a bewildered look stares at me. "Um...hello. You must be Miss Reis. Um..."

Why is he staring at me like that? It's like he's in shock or something. "Yes, that's me."

He starts. "Oh! Um..." He looks hastily behind him. "Sir Chiroseau, Miss Reis is here!" he looks back at me, a faint redness around his cheeks evident with the glow from inside the barracks. "Er...it's a pleasure to meet you, but I have to...to patrol! Good night!" With that, he starts jogging off, presumably to the shopping area.

Well. That was weird.

I don't inspire the greatest reactions in people, do I?

"Good evening, Miss Reis," a more gruff voice says, and I look up into Chiroseau's face.

"Good evening, Sir Chiroseau," I nod. He walks out of the barracks and closes the door. Why did he do that?

"Sorry, but Kadmus will be out shortly." Chiroseau smiles at me. "He's been running around all day. He almost looks like he's in a bit of a panic, actually."

Did something happen? "Oh, I hope nothing happened in town."

"...No, nothing like that." He looks at me with an expression that's...partly puzzled? "Anyway, are you looking forward to your date?"

...What? "... 'Date'? What is...a 'date'?"

Now Chiroseau looks fully puzzled. "You don't know what a date is...?"

I shake my head.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Well, it's like this...hmm...let's just say that Kadmus has...intentions towards you."

Intentions? That sounds...intimidating. I take a step back. "That sounds foreboding. What sort of intentions does he have towards me?"

Chiroseau begins to laugh. "You don't have to worry, Miss Reis! Kadmus has the purest intentions towards you...or as pure as a man can have towards a young, pretty woman such as yourself."

Now I'm confused. "So...they're good intentions. Like...he wants to be closer friends with me?"

"Well..." He chuckles. "Something like that."

"Oh." I wish he had said that in the first place. "Well, that's good. I hope he's not too tired from all his running around to have dinner with me."

Smiling slightly, Chiroseau shakes his head. "Let's see. He had to switch his patrol schedule so he could have the night free...I believe he changed it with Abraham, the young man who...greeted you." He says the last words with amusement. "And he's just been in and out of the barracks since his shift ended at six."

Oh...it seems that I've inconvenienced Beowulf by asking if we could have dinner. I seem to do that a lot... "I see."

"But please, Miss Reis, don't feel badly about it. Kadmus is a grown man...even if he doesn't act like it sometimes." Chiroseau pats me on the head, and I smile bashfully. "He understands that for every action there's a consequence..." he leans in and says confidentially, "and he'll choose what, or who, is worth it. So, don't worry about it, alright?"

--Reis, you're my precious daughter. Please, trust your papa's words. You can't help everyone all the time. Everyone has to deal with the consequences of their actions, even if they're your brothers, and they need to realize that too--

Papa...

"Are you okay?" Chiroseau looks worried. I nod.

"Your words reminded me of something my...something someone very dear to me said once." I smile, albeit waveringly. "Thank you, Sir Chiroseau."

He moves away from me, a look of fatherly caring on his face. "It's no problem," he says finally, and we stand in comfortable silence.

Actions and consequences...that's a natural law. That's something I can understand, not like intentions and dates. The latter worries me, but if Chiroseau says that it's a good thing, then...I guess it can't be all that bad.

I can hear footsteps approaching the door and I turn expectantly just as the door opens, revealing a darkly-clad Beowulf. I'm so used to seeing him in his more official uniforms, but even in his casual wine-red shirt with black designs on the bottom of the sleeves and shirt, black pants and black knee-high boots, he still has this presence of...of...

Oh, I don't know. All I know is that I really like it. And I really like how he looks...well, I always like how he looks. It's hard not to when he always look good...

...What am I thinking? Focus, Reis!

"See something you like?" I look up at Chiroseau, who's facing Beowulf. Oh good, I thought he was talking to me.

Beowulf looks over at the older knight as well, smiling slightly as he does so. "Don't you have a patrol to lead? It's seven, after all."

"Hm...well, have fun Kadmus, Miss Reis," Chiroseau nods at me, then walks past Beowulf into the barracks. Beowulf moves out of the threshold of the building, closing the door as he does so, all the while smiling at me.

"I didn't keep you waiting long, did I?" he asks as he walks over, standing on my right.

I shake my head. "No, not at all. I heard you had been running around all day. Do you still want to have dinner with me?"

Please say yes...

"Of course I do." He sounds surprised. "Everything I did today was for our dinner."

Giving him a sidelong glance, I look down. "Our...date?"

"E-exactly."

God, ever since I arrived, it seems like I'm always inconveniencing him. I'm really a bother, aren't I? I bow slightly to him, feeling contrite. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

Beowulf shakes his head. "I didn't...I don't mind. Come on, I have a reservation at a restaurant for seven-thirty."

"Oh, okay," I start walking forward when I feel his hand lightly grasp mine from behind.

I...I don't want him to be the only one holding on...

Slowly, I twist my hand so that our fingers are entwined; palm-to-palm, as it were. His hand is warm and calloused, his grip gentle and considerate of my smaller hand.

With a touch like this, his intentions must be wonderful.

-0-

The restaurant that we go to is different from the one we went to last time. Unlike that one, this one has no outside tables, just a sign next to the door that boasts 'cooking from all over mainland Ivalice!' I can see why they'd say that, because Murond certainly isn't a culinary giant.

As we reach the narrow entrance, Beowulf lets go of my hand, only to place his hand between my shoulder blades. I stiffen. His palm, the joints of his fingers...it's comforting to have his touch but...does he think that he can touch me anywhere? He keeps it there as we walk through the restaurant's open door with me in front, then removes it.

Well...it wasn't so bad...

We enter into a partially darkened room, candles ablaze in several strategic places to offer at least some light, but not enough to have to fix up the room. There's a table to the left of us, and a curtain--royal purple, I believe--covering the right wall.

A dark-haired woman, poured into a clingy crimson dress that I'm sure violates at least one decency law in Lionel, approaches us. "Hello, what can I do for you tonight?" she purrs at me in a low alto voice. In the candlelight, I can see her dark green eyes crawl over me from head to toe, then the curve of her painted lips as she smirks.

I lower my eyes. I've never been stared at like that by a woman before...

"Hello, we have a reservation. Two for Kadmus?" Beowulf says from behind me. The lady flickers her gaze from me to him, a bland look appearing on her face. I dare say she looks unimpressed. She walks away to the table, hips swaying, then returns with two menus. She motions to us, and we silently follow her through the curtain, and...

Wow...

The room we've entered is large, lots of tables covered in cream tablecloths, each one lit up with a candle in the middle. There are lots of people here, their bright chatter and laughter creating a steady hum in my ears that's not unpleasant. All these people look like they're in a higher class...nobles, I guess.

Hm. I didn't know that nobles even lived in this town.

The lady in red deftly moves through the people and their tables. I follow as briskly as I can, the legs of my outfit swishing along rhythmically until we reach an empty table at an empty corner of the room. I sit and Beowulf follows, sitting across from me. The lady hands us our menus and saunters off. I look over at Beowulf, who's already picked up his menu. He catches my glance and smiles. "Big place, isn't it?"

I nod. I'm not used to being in a place where so many other people are, unless church counts, and I skipped enough sermons in Murond to not get used to truly large crowds. "There are lots of nobles here," I observe. If this place is frequented by only nobles, the meals must be expensive. I glance at the first page of the menu and my suspicions are confirmed. I wonder if I brought enough money to cover my own meal...by the looks of it, a year's pay couldn't pay for a full meal...

Looking over at Beowulf, I notice that he's preoccupied with the menu. Oh, right, food. I look at the dishes offered in greater detail...I didn't know there were that many ways to prepare a chocobo...wow, they offer black chocobo. That used to be a delicacy at my home when I was a child. Too many people were capturing them to be used on the war front just because they can fly.

I flip through the pages. This menu's like a book...a dense one, at that. Hm...Morbol tentacles? Where is that served as food...Lionel? I've never even seen a Morbol before! Flotiball eyes are a Limberry delicacy? Hm...most of the truly weird things on here are Limberry dishes, it seems...I mean, Pisco Demon tentacles? 'To increase strength, men in the Limberry region consume this dish, braised in Bomb oil. This is truly considered a delicacy all throughout Ivalice.' What's this description for...Minitaurus testicles. Hm. I don't even know what that is, and I know I don't want to eat it. Limberry men must have iron stomachs or something.

Looking up, I see Beowulf grimace slightly, his gaze fixated on his menu. I wonder if he just read the same thing I did? Judging by all the weird things this restaurant purports to serve, maybe not. Back to the menu...oh, this looks safe: 'Chocobo breast Selseta salad tossed with our homemade dressing, with your choice of chocobo'.

I look up just as the lady comes back. "What would you like to order?" she asks us. Beowulf motions for me to order first, so I point out what I want on the menu. She raises an eyebrow at this. "And do you have a preference of chocobo?"

Delicacy... "Black, please."

She nods like I said something that pleased her, then looks over at Beowulf. "And for you, sir?"

He casts a glance at me, then points out what he wants on the menu. "Broiled, please."

I swear the lady is rolling her eyes. "Would you like to see the wine list? You can point out what you want on that, too."

"No, thank you," Beowulf says in a polite tone. "Water for the both of us, please."

"I see." She looks over at me, pausing as if she wants to say something. "I really like your outfit. Wherever did you find it?"

I fidget slightly. I feel like I'm being put out in the open, with this obviously glamorous woman asking me about, well, my creation. "...I made it."

"Oh, I didn't realize that women did that anymore for themselves," she murmurs, taking our menus. "Your meal will be brought to you shortly." She wiggles off, hips moving independently from her waist.

...I wish I had hips like that.

"You know, she does have a point." I look up at Beowulf's cheerful face. "Depending where you're from, most women don't know how to use a needle and thread anymore. That's why I'm really impressed that you can actually make outfits like tonight's." He pauses. "Female samurai?"

I'm beaming. I'm absolutely beaming in wondrous delight. "You recognize it?"

His smile grows wider. "Of course. It fits you very well. I..." He shakes his head. "You obviously know what looks amazing on you all the time."

If I looked in a mirror right this moment, I'm sure I would look positively, happily dazed. I lower my head, trying to will away my wide smile. "You really think so?"

"Reis." I raise my head, remnants of my smile still lingering, and he chuckles. "There, that's better. You shouldn't hide your smile. I want..." He looks away, a small smile on his own face. "I just want to see you smile more." His gaze returns to me, and in the candlelight his eyes are a beautiful, shimmery dark red. "I want to see you smile at me."

I don't understand Beowulf. I will willingly admit it to him, to the heavens, to anyone who will ask me right now. He's incredibly, completely and totally without reservation when it comes to his words...with his feelings.

How could I not admire him? How could I not like him as much as I do?

How did he become such an amazing man?

Even if it doesn't concern me, I still...I would like to know.

I would love to know.

Would you tell me, Beowulf?

"Here you go, miss." I look up and watch as my rather large plate of salad descends to my table. The lady in red places it in front of me, smiling slightly. "Black chocobo breast Selseta salad, tossed in homemade dressing." She looks over at Beowulf. "Your meal will be arriving soon, sir." And with that, she struts off.

"Isn't that what you ordered when we had lunch?" Beowulf asks, peering at my meal. I push the plate towards him.

"Not with the black chocobo, but Selseta plants are simply wonderful. They have a very subtle flavor. Try some."

He looks startled...is it strange for me to offer some of my own food on a date? "Oh...okay," he picks up his fork and pokes at some of the salad, bringing it back to his mouth. He chews with his mouth closed--always a good thing--then swallows. The look on his face...he doesn't look like he particularly likes my salad. "Are you sure you're not talking about the dressing?"

I pull back my plate. How can he not taste how wonderful the plants are? "It's more than that. It's the plants themselves that have a unique flavor."

Although...the plants never tasted this good when I was a child. I guess it's just one of those age things.

"If you say so," he says agreeably. Hn. I pick up my fork and start eating, and out of the corner of my eye I see our glasses of water arrive. "Reis, why did you ask for black chocobo?"

I pause in mid-chew. How do I explain this...? "Because they're slow." The look that Beowulf gives me confirms that he knows nothing about proper hunting. "You see, the faster the creature, the thinner, the less nutritious their meat is. The slower, the better the meat is."

Now he's staring at me really strangely. "I never knew that. Was your father a hunter?"

"...No." I stare at him. "Both of my parents were." With hunters, it's usually better to have a spouse who can also hunt. This is what we call 'safety in numbers'. I guess it isn't that weird that he wouldn't know that. "What about your parents?"

"Hm..." He reaches for his cup and takes a sip of water. "My dad was a magic professor at Lesalia's military academy." He looks down into his cup. "Mum was a noblewoman."

...Since when is 'noblewoman' a job? "What does a noblewoman do?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

Beowulf seems standoffish about his parents...his mother. I'll try not to broach the subject again, because...I like the Beowulf that is happy and can say whatever's on his mind.

I don't want him to be like me.

"And here's your meal, sir." The lady in red puts down a plate with what looks to be a steak on it. "Broiled Bull Demon flank. I'll come back to refill your glasses." She walks off, and I can't help but wish I had that sort of voluptuous body again.

Mama had that sort of body. What went wrong with me?

"Do you want to try some of my steak?" Beowulf pushes his plate towards me, but I shake my head. I've never liked Bull Demon. He nods to himself and starts on his meal.

This feels comfortable, even in a room full of nobles and expensive food.

I like this.

-0-

We stumble out of the restaurant into the night, our hands tightly clasped together. "I better take you back," he says, looking up into the starry night. "It's kind of cold."

I shove my right hand into my pocket. I can feel my money in there, all of it still there because Beowulf graciously offered to pay for dinner. Well, he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, actually, but he was very gracious about it. "I guess." Although I don't feel chilly at all, and I'm the one with short sleeves. I look over in the direction of the bell tower. Ah, it's...nine-thirty? That is pretty late.

We quietly walk to the church, immersed in comfortable silence, our hands swinging slightly between our bodies. I didn't think this kind of comfort existed outside of my old duties at Murond, and I can't help but go along with it.

I'm really feeling comfortable around Beowulf, and I really enjoy that. More than Verden, more than Chiroseau...I really like Beowulf the best.

I shouldn't play favorites, I know. Growing up with twin brothers...it's the stupidest thing to favor one person over another in all areas. But I...I can't describe it. These aren't the feelings of 'family love' that I enjoyed once, such a long time ago. This is unsettlingly new, unfamiliar and...strange. But I don't want to figure out exactly what it is right now. That's...that's a bit scary.

Our joined hands are enough.

"Well, here we are," Beowulf announces. I look up...oh, there's the church. "I really enjoyed tonight, Reis." Looking over at him, I notice that his eyes are without a trace of color in the night, but somehow I can still picture their exact shade in my mind.

"Me too..." I trail off, unsure of what to say next, of what I really want to say.

Can we do this again soon?

"So..." I can feel his thumb lightly run over the side of my thumb, his grip loose. "By any chance, would you like to do this again? I mean, dinner. Or lunch."

I nod eagerly. "Yes, I'd like that..." Hmm, when's my next day off... "I believe I have a day off the day after tomorrow, so if you'd like to do something..."

"Lunch, then. We could meet in front of the barracks and walk together."

"Oh, okay, that's fine..."

Slowly and oh-so-hesitantly I disentangle our fingers and smile up at him. "Good night, Beowulf."

His lips curve slightly. "Good night, Reis."

I don't...but I have to. I turn around and walk, glancing back and watching him do the same. With each step I'm farther away from him and closer to my room, and it's only a matter of time until I reach my door and enter my tiny, undecorated room. I close the door and make my way to my bed, flinging off my blanket so that I can crawl under the covers. I hear my brush hit the floor and skid on the hard floor. Half-heartedly tugging off my boots, I finally succeed and toss myself into my bed, throwing my blanket haphazardly over my body.

I close my eyes.

Reis!

For a short while, everything was okay just because of Beowulf...

Big sister!

But it's not possible to always forget, is it?

Come play with us!

-End to Seven-

A deliciously long chapter, because there was so much I wanted to bring up now that has bearing in future chapters. That and I figured that I was already on the late side, and this is a chapter that could use lots and lots of description. We want Reis to have some fun, right?

Reviewers!

Arreat's Hymn...that's a pretty name (what's it from?), but do you mind if I just call you Mavina? Presently, I'm writing these notes under sleep-deprivation, and it's hard to think about different names. ; Anyway, I can't stand cliched 'I've just met you, so let's fall in love and go to kissy-kissy heaven!' romances, so I generally don't read a lot of romance, fanfiction or otherwise. Rather, I like focusing on the characters themselves, what makes them tick, why would they even want to go after this person, etc. I feel like I'm just being non-original here by making my own story within the limits of what the game gave me, but I'm really happy that you like it!
And you're right, some of the new Inuyasha episodes were pretty good, like the one about Inuyasha choosing to protect Kikyou, and Sango and her brother...but I can't stand the recaps! Even if it is a weekly show in Japan, I get awfully annoyed when I see that 'Naraku tricks Kikyou and Inuyasha' stock footage for the 15th time...

Killiko Jun, nice to meet you! Yes, this is the only Reis/Beowulf story on I have an obligation to make this the best Reis/Beowulf story! Thank you for your compliments, especially about Reis' characterization, they were very appreciated. And thanks, I'm rooting for myself as well!

toastyann, when first saw this review in my inbox, my first thought was, '4k? Who did I piss off to get that kind of review?' Then I read the first paragraph of your review, I wondered, 'Who is this person? She says I reviewed her, but I don't remember...' And then I realized who you were. You! You're the person who wrote (is writing?) the RK story with the strong Kaoru!
I don't know how to respond to your very lengthy, very enjoyable review because I'm completely exhausted, but...thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. With the way I write, all I hope is that it's easy enough to read, yet at the same time it's very deep and not just the standard fare found in easily-read stories. I really was happy at how you noticed that Beowulf, while not the 'self' he is in the game, is his 'Libran' self; I used to love astrology, and I looked up my old books while I was deciding on the characterization of our little Temple Knight. You don't have to worry about Verden though...all he gets are mentions in Beowulf and Reis' brave story summaries, so his personality's built from scratch. I certainly hope to see your commentary on future chapters, and I must remember to find your story the first chance I get!

Chapter 8: A Leap (Do you trust?): "I wished for bravery so I can do this..."