Within Holy Walls

By Tenshi no Ai

(C) Square Enix

Twelve: Monster Talk (the talent that's not)

-0-

"See, what I've never understood is why men cheat on beautiful women."

I'm in the church kitchen making sandwiches with Peppermint. It's ten right now, and at eleven I'm to meet Beowulf at the southern town gate leading to Bariaus Valley for a picnic. Not all day, though; Beowulf has to patrol at seven tonight. I've been spending a lot of time with Peppermint lately because our schedules have been coinciding. I was right in initially thinking that she was a nice person, and she really makes me think about things that just a week ago wouldn't have gotten through my haze.

I pause in cutting a recently baked loaf of bread into slices. "What does that mean, 'cheat'?"

Standing on my right, Peppermint looks at me, both eyebrows raised. "Every time you ask me what something I've said means, I feel like I'm corrupting you."

"I don't know about that." I resume in slicing the loaf, "I feel so behind everyone else...I didn't even know what a date was until just before I went on my first one."

"Ah...still...oh, whatever." She starts chopping up a head of lettuce. "If someone cheats on you, that means that they're going out with someone else behind your back, maybe even doing more."

The logic of that definition seems so...harsh. "But...I go out with you a lot. Does that mean that I'm cheating on...ah, my friend?"

She puts down her knife and stares at me. "No, no, that's totally different. See, we're just friends. It's not like we're going to the local inn and doing inappropriate things with each other. It's one thing to go out with a friend and another to go out with someone you'd like to be a lover to."

... 'Inappropriate things'? "What are inappropriate things to do with someone?"

"Ah...I didn't know she was that innocent..." I hear her mutter. Am I asking too many questions? Somehow, I think it's better to ask her than, say, Beowulf. Something tells me Peppermint would be more straightforward about this sort of thing. "When I say 'inappropriate things', I mean things that you wouldn't do around other people. Private sort of things."

"...Like hold hands?" Of course, any sort of touching is pretty private, I think. But inappropriate? If they were bad things, then why does it feel so natural to do them?

A strange look crosses over Peppermint's face. "I think that just goes for us, since we're seeing knights and all. But, I mean things like kissing and touching...basically, any sort of sexual contact."

...? "What does that mean?"

She gives me a blank look. "What?"

"'Sexual contact', I mean. I've never heard of a modifier like that before." As soon as I say that, she really starts staring at me. "Am I asking really stupid questions?"

"God no, you aren't." She vehemently shakes her head. "'Sexual contact' is anything sort of touching that has a more, ah...lustful intent behind it. Basically, the type of touching the Church says that people shouldn't indulge in unless they're married."

I turn to finish off the rest of the loaf before returning my full attention to her. This is really interesting... "I don't remember that, but then again I used to skip a lot of sermons."

She begins laughing. "That's probably a good thing! Here, let's finish these sandwiches first."

We spend the next fifteen minutes making chocobo sandwiches with ingredients bought on an early morning trip through the shopping area, then slicing them into wedges--Peppermint's idea for more convenient packaging into my new woven basket. I received a raise a week ago, so I was happy to spend it. I want to go on lots of picnics with Beowulf.

Lately, our relationship has been really...I don't know. I'm having more fun, even moreso than before. I've been trying really hard to open up to him, and his response to that has been so wonderful.

He's such a wonderful person...

I slice the last sandwich diagonally and place it into the basket. "Alright, tell me what 'lustful' means first." I turn to her eagerly and she laughs.

"Someone wants to learn, hm?" She grins. "Well, it's that whole feeling you get when, you know, you're around someone you like or love and you want to touch them. Or if you're kissing or something and you want to go further..." She waves her hand. "Stuff like that."

I finally have a name for that feeling... "I understand. We're like that a lot, I guess."

Peppermint, who was in the process of gathering up all the knives for washing, quickly turns her head and stares at me for a moment, then begins laughing. "Are you sure you even need to me help define things for you?"

...Did I say something funny? I want to laugh too, even if it's at myself... "Well, everything's so new to me. It's all very interesting."

"Ah..." Hand over her mouth, she stifles her laughter. "Well then, consider me your big sister when it comes to matters like this. What do you want to know?"

I smile. I've never had a big sister...I was the big sister. "Um, about the phrase you used... 'sexual contact'..."

She nods sagely. "Ah, sex." Hm, sounds like a noun...one syllable...sounds kind of powerful for a word. "Stay with me until the bells ring, and I'll teach you everything you need to know about that word."

'Everything'? That sounds like a lot, but it does sound tempting... "Please tell me everything you think I need to know," I say cheerfully. I've always liked learning new and different things.

"Hmm..." She smiles widely, and I swear her dark brown eyes just glinted in this well-lighted room. "It's too bad that we didn't buy any cucumbers this morning, but let's use a more knight-oriented analogy..."

-0-

I quickly walk out of the church, basket in hand. Looking up at the clock tower above me, I see that it's already ten past eleven...I'd better hurry. I hope Beowulf's not worried, but the things that Peppermint told me were simply...fascinating. All about feelings and movements and their correlation with love--because she said that it was vitally important to have love as a prerequisite before doing anything as emotionally bonding as that--and other things. She also warned me about the possibility of pregnancy because of some 'monthly occurrence', but I didn't have the heart to ask her what that was.

Well, I guess I can't expect to learn everything in thirty or so minutes. I do seem to remember something Mama said once about this subject

--Reis, darling, men and women are designed by God to fit together perfectly--

and maybe that's all I really need to know. Everything else beyond that seems so complicated. Maybe that's what it's like to be human? After all, I don't think that monsters have half the socialization problems we do.

I step onto the main street...now, did he say to meet him at the gate, or...oh. There he is, talking to a vendor...hm, he's in his uniform already? I walk over to the booth, waiting until after Beowulf makes his purchase of what appears to be an apple covered with light-brown stuff, all on a stick. I sniff...oh, it's a sweet. Eh. "Good morning, Beowulf. I'm sorry if I'm late."

He turns to me, smiling in his usual way--I think Peppermint would call this 'charming'--then his eyes widen. "That's a cute outfit...female squire and...ninja, right?"

I'm beaming but I don't feel like hiding my face. He is, as usual, completely correct. In addition to the yellow squire's dress I had made about a week or so ago, I have on ninja tights and boots. I didn't have to make either of the ninja items; there was a clothing vendor here all last week with so many articles of clothing I had never seen before...there are so many jobs out there. I also had bought a black length of cloth, which I've woven into my low braid today. "Yes, exactly. What's that?" I point with my right hand at that...sweet apple confection he just bought.

"Oh, this? It's a caramel-coated apple. It's the perfect time of year to have one, what with how hot it's getting." We start walking out of the town when he suddenly turns to me. "You didn't want one, right?"

I shake my head. "You know I can't stand sweets."

"I know." He shrugs and takes a bite of the smothered apple. "Anyway, you didn't make too much for lunch, did you? I was starting to get worried."

"No, I was just...talking with Peppermint and lost track of time." I think 'talk' sounds better than 'learning from'. Beowulf's not an overly curious person, but he can wait me out if he wanted to. "Sorry about that, again."

He takes another bite. "Ah, girl talk. I remember Sis gathering up all the neighborhood girls and talking for hours in her room." He pauses, his eyes getting a faraway sort of look. "I've overheard some of the strangest things."

I guess that would depend on what is 'strange' to talk about. "Sounds like fun."

"More like intimidating." With a loud crunch, he takes another bite of his apple. "I spent most of my time around Sis, and all her friends loved to surround me and do weird things to me."

'Weird things'? "What sort of weird things?"

His cheeks color slightly. "Before Sis became a young woman, she...they would pretend that I was a life-sized doll."

'Doll'? I know what that is, but I've never owned one so I don't understand. "What do young girls do with dolls?"

"...Well..." Now his ears are darkening. "They like to dress them up in frilly, poofy things...regardless of their doll's gender."

I turn to him, taking in his completely masculine features. That jawline, his well-toned body...I smile up at him. "You must've been a very cute child."

He looks at me, the redness fading from his cheeks. "Cute or not, I didn't like it at all," he pauses, "somehow, I knew you wouldn't laugh."

Why would I laugh? All things considered, it seemed as if he didn't want to talk about it. "If you didn't like being around your sister and her friends, why didn't you just stay around your parents?"

Quickly his face goes blank and he looks forward, taking a slow bite out of his nearly-finished apple. "Well..."

I lower my head. I asked something I shouldn't have, it seems. God, what should I do...? Ah, I know. I take his hand and gesture with the basket in my left hand out past Beowulf's side of the path. "Let's go sit down over there." I smile at him when he looks at me, and a small smile--not his usual one, but I'll take what I can get--appears on his face.

He nods and tosses the apple core and stick aside and we walk off the path and into a small patch of grass and trees. We sit down underneath a small apple tree, and I place the basket between us and open it. "Oh, sandwiches." Beowulf takes one of the wedges. "These aren't chicken, are they?"

What's 'chicken'? "No, these are chocobo sandwiches. Yellow chocobo." I take one and bite into it. The lettuce, tomato, chocobo and honey-based spread mix together in a wonderful combination. He takes a bite and I watch his expression turn from mild curiosity into general pleasure. "What is a chicken?"

"Oh, a chicken is a type of bird. It's a lot smaller than a chocobo." He takes another bite. "This is really good."

I beam. "Are you allergic to this 'chicken'?" I better make note of it for future meals.

"Well, I've never eaten one." He finishes off the sandwich and grabs another one. "It's like this: Temple Knights have this spell called 'Chicken' which can make someone lose most of their bravery and, in many cases, will transform someone into a chicken," he starts on his new sandwich and finishes it quickly before looking at me again, "I've seen it happen, and sometimes it was because I was the cause of it, so it's always been a fear of mine to eat chicken anything because I don't know if it had always been a chicken...or one of my victims."

...Well, suddenly I'm not that hungry. "That's pretty morbid, don't you think?"

"Well, yes." He starts on his third wedge and I remember that I'm still on my first, so I finish it off and reach for another one. "A lot of my spells are like that. Once I had to protect a noble for a fortnight, and he kept a lot of statues of both humans and monsters..." He shakes his head while swallowing the rest of his sandwich. "I thought I recognized one of the human statues as an enemy knight that I had petrified when I first became a Temple Knight."

"I...see." I take a third wedge as he finishes his fourth and I can't help but wonder if I even made enough, especially with the way he's eating today. "Your job must be...depressing."

He pauses in mid-bite. "It's not so bad now, since I'm not being sent to hunt down heretics while Examiner Draclau is out in the war." The wedge disappears into his mouth. "Even if there's more work, I like that better than hunting down people who just have a different ideology than the Church. If they're dangerous to society that's one thing, but..."

As a cataloguer, I've never ventured into understanding anything to do with knights and their service, other than occasionally listening in to their stories. Temple Knights are the hardest to learn about anyway because there's so few of them and they're always on secret missions and such. Divine Knights are more openly lauded than Temple Knights, even though they have equal ranking...well, other than the fact that a Divine Knight is the leader of the entire Murond military sect.

...Humans really do make things confusing for themselves.

I sigh, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "How old were you when you became a Temple Knight?"

"Twenty-four, give or take a month." His eating slows and I have a sudden hope that I might actually have five sandwich wedges before he finishes off the basket. "When did you become a head cataloguer?"

Ah, he remembered my full title. "At sixteen," I wonder if I've kept that title in Murond even though I've been in Lionel for nearly three months now. Beowulf smiles at me.

"That's a young age, especially for an intellectual job like that." Oh, hardly. Tedious is the better word. "You must have a love for books."

Yes, good ones. "I don't read very much. My job was filing away theological tomes, and that sort of subject bores me a lot..." Somehow, I don't think that telling a Temple Knight something as heretical as how much I dislike religious books is a really smart thing to do, even though I'm not so sure if he's religious.

He starts laughing. "It sounds like it, but I bet they're not as bad as magical theory books."

"You'd be surprised." I quickly eat the rest of my sandwich and swallow before continuing. "All those books on Ajora and analysis on every word he was said to have spoken...I've never understood all the focus on such a questionable saint."

...Maybe that went too far.

Beowulf takes another sandwich. "Never mind if he was a saint or not, because I doubt it, but you've got to wonder about Church practices nowadays. It's sad to see so many people in the Glabados faith, all of whom don't even understand the Church's true agenda."

...Was I right? "You...aren't mad about what I just said...?"

"God, no," he says as he smiles warmly. "In fact, I'm glad you said it. You didn't seem like someone who was really religious, but I didn't want to say anything bad about the Church and offend you or something."

Okay, this is still weird somehow. "But, as a Temple Knight...aren't you supposed to completely believe in the preachings of the Church?"

"My job is to protect the Church from 'heretics', or whatever the Church deems a heretic, but my job isn't who I am." He looks at me curiously. "If that was true, we both wouldn't be doing this."

I raise my knees up and place my arms across them, resting my head on my makeshift cushion while looking over at Beowulf. "I don't understand that rule, the one about knights and white mages being separate. There was no such rule in Murond...and why does it include me as well?"

I know some famous stories about couples in the Church as giggled about by the young white mages in Murond. There's one about how former Holy Knight Draclau met his white mage wife, now deceased, while in southern Lionel. How a lowly Knight Blade met his wife, a cataloguer, while looking for a book in one of Murond's bookrooms. That Knight Blade is now a Divine Knight, and his name is Vormav Tingel.

--But she's dead now, and no one tells me that anymore--

That is what Izlude had said...maybe they have that rule here because of the wife's tendency to die? But if heretic examiner Draclau is the leader of Lionel province, wouldn't it be hypocritical for him to deny to others what he himself has done?

"...That rule had never really been enforced until Examiner Draclau left," Beowulf says slowly, moving the basket to his other side. It's just as well, I've lost my appetite. "That's when Buremonda announced the rule to the white mages and made me do the same."

Why would Verden act in such a way, though? "What are you going to do about it now?"

"Reis..." Scooting up to me, he puts an arm around my shoulders and gazes into my eyes. I raise my head and return his gaze, our faces separated by a scant distance. "As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter to me. I want to be with you, and he can't do anything to me anyway." He reaches with his other hand and softly grasps the overhanging lock of hair on that side, his knuckles gently against my cheek. "I don't think that he would do anything to you, either."

But...what about Peppermint? "What if it was one of the knights under your command?"

His touch trickles down the side of my face, my hair being lightly tugged in the process. I close my eyes, relishing the two-fold feeling even as I worry about my only girl friend. "I'm no hypocrite." And I believe him because his lips are now on mine and I wouldn't let anyone of questionable morals touch me, not to talk of doing something like this to me.

At first it's a tentative touch, a simple pressing together of our lips, then we slowly draw back, the touch still faintly lingering. Once again we kiss, deeper this time before I pull away slightly, inwardly giggling as he continues to follow my lips for a moment before stopping. I part my lips at the same time he does, our breaths mingling in the imperceptible space between our mouths.

Lowering my knees, I reach out with my hands just as his hold on me tightens, my arms encircling his waist. I want to get closer to him but I can't, not with my lower body as it is. While trying not to break my nearly nonexistent contact with his lips, I scoot up onto my knees and lean into him, my chest against his. We kiss again, open-mouthed, and it isn't long before the tips of our tongues touch. This isn't new--not exactly--but it's different because right now it's a very deliberate movement. Slowly I let my tongue glide along his, raising my hands up along his back as his knuckles resume trickling up and down the side of my face.

There's an odd urge tickling my lower belly to do more, but I ignore it. I want to savor each moment as it is...

The hand slowly running down the length of my hair now has fingers softly touching my bare shoulder. There is the rough skin of his palm on my shoulder, drifting along my arm for a bit before moving across my back. I can feel him fiddling with the end of my braid with that hand, then with both hands. I want to stop him--it took about ten minutes and three tries before I could weave my strip of cloth into my braid--but then the cloth loosens, my hair bursts out of the braid and I quickly exhale through my nose because that felt kind of good.

That sense of being freed...I like it.

His fingers entangle themselves into my shoulder-blade length hair and I disengage from the kiss, smiling close-lipped against his mouth. I feel his lips curve against mine, and it makes me feel strangely happy. Languidly I move my hands over his stomach, then up to his shoulders and around his neck, letting my fingers roam up into his hair.

As we hesitantly move our faces away, he mumbles something that...did he just say what I think he said? "Beowulf?" I say questioningly, my tongue not used to the movements of talking right now. My eyes are wide open, taking in his closed eyes, his small smile...he looks so peaceful. A strange sort of envy rises in me.

I want to share that peace, too.

"Reis." His voice is lower than usual, his lips darker than normal. "Ever since I met you, I've always had this feeling of wanting to get closer to you, wanting to know you. I know that there's a lot of things that you can't tell me right now, but I want you to know that I will always be here for you. I want you to know..." He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, brilliant brandy shining right at me.

"I love you."

...Yes, that was what he said the first time. But...um...I don't know...what do I say...?

Do I love him? Do I love Beowulf?

I...I really, really, really like him, but love is two letters too different to be the same feeling, so...

...Oh, God, if you've ever loved me, please, please help me...

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

...God is pretty expedient today.

Beowulf quickly lets go of me and stands up, moving slightly in front of me. My eyes travel past his now-tense frame to the figures of four men, dressed in filthy green jackets and beige pants. Judging by the unity of their clothes, they have a specific job class, but...I'm not familiar with it. They're all brandishing daggers and...oh God, Beowulf isn't armed. He's never armed when we go out...

"Well, okay you two, all your valuables on the ground now." A lanky man with dark hair and a boyish face steps forward from his comrades, closing in on us. By his swagger, I'd guess that he's done this a lot... "Hm? Well, aren't you a pretty one?"

Why is he eyeing me like that...?

"Perhaps you should pay more attention to your opponent," Beowulf says mildly, and I stand as these strange men move their attention to him.

The lanky one, the only one with dark hair, smiles thinly. "We would, if Sir Knight was actually armed." He starts towards us, holding out his dagger in an offensive manner. "Heard the Ordalians in Zeltennia'll give a nice price for new girls. Hopefully she's undamaged goods--"

A bright light violates my eyes and I quickly shield my eyes with my left forearm. Loud screaming pierces through my ears, and my sight is easily forgotten in favor of my hearing. With hands tightly clamped over my ears, I open my eyes hesitantly and the first thing I see is the lanky man on the ground, rolling around frantically as flames hungrily lap at his body.

This shrieking is horrible...it hurts...

"I won't repeat myself," Beowulf says lowly through the horrid screaming. "Don't touch her."

I can only thank God that his back is to me. His face isn't the type that can contort into something crumpled and ugly, but...

His eyes must be the color of fresh blood right now.

"Reis," he says gently, not turning around to face me, "please go back to the town. Find Chiroseau as quickly as possible."

I can't just leave you! Four--well, more like three and a half--against one isn't fair at all! "Beo--"

"Please." And even as he says that his outstretched hand has a flaring yellow light emitting from it. The men, including the charred one who has managed to stand up again, start moving towards him and it's not fair at all but...

I start running towards the town, my feet tearing through the grass. My new boots are pinching my feet even through the tights and I hear the crack of thunder even though there's not a cloud in the sky...

"Wark."

(Pathetic)

I stop and spin around, completely startled. I just heard a chocobo...right?

"Wa-wark."

(Leaving your mate like that...humans are truly sad)

From a dense thicket on the other side of the path a red chocobo emerges, slowly trotting towards me. It ruffles out its tail feathers as it reaches within petting distance, large blue eyes curiously staring at me. "He asked me to," I tell it, and it steps back as if startled.

"...Wa-wark?"

(A human that can understand monsters?)

It's not exactly a rare skill. Most hunter-families specialize in it. All mediators have to learn it. "If all you're going to do is insult me, I'll like to get going now."

"Wark-waark."

(I'm just saying what I see. Don't judge me by your standards, human)

Something about that tone, and this situation, and how I have nothing to contribute other than finding the useful people and rude chocobos... "Then don't presume to judge me by yours!"

Ah...something hurts in my chest...

The chocobo steps back, fear in its eyes. "Wa-wa-waark!"

(I didn't...I couldn't tell...forgive me!)

...That's different. "I will if you fight on my behalf," I'm surprised and I can't remember anything Papa said about chocobos, but it's worth a try.

It hesitates for a moment before lowering its head. "Wark."

(Get on)

I do so quickly, clutching soft neck feathers in surprise as it races back toward Beowulf and the attackers. "Wa-wark?"

(All but the black-clothed one?)

"Exactly!" I watch as Beowulf quickly sidesteps a swipe to his abdomen, streaks of blue flickering at his fingertips before a good-sized chunk of ice narrowly misses his enemy, "Faster!"

"Wark!"

(Get off then!)

I can't argue with that. Leaning to the right, I fling myself off the chocobo and smash into the ground, rolling to a stop. Ah...I sit up, legs splayed awkwardly and my entire right side throbbing fiercely. I look over at the fight just in time to catch the red chocobo slam its beak into the side of the man that Beowulf had burnt. The man falls with a wail, going completely motionless. The surprise on Beowulf's face is evident as he avoids a badly choreographed two-pronged attack, stumbling away from the fray as the chocobo takes over.

Sore but otherwise fine, I walk over to Beowulf and watch the battle...hn. That's too nice of a word for this. With an untranslatable term, the chocobo raises a wing and waves it down. Something with the same magical tint as Beowulf and Peppermint's magic crunches into the back of a short-haired blonde's head, and he cries out and falls face-first into the ground. Smoothly the giant bird spins around and pecks into the lower body of one of the two other men, who had his dagger upraised over the chocobo's head before it sensed him. He doubles over, holding himself as he falls.

...I'm starting to see why red chocobos are practically inedible.

I watch the carnage before me, feeling more than a little dumbfounded. I know that Beowulf's staring at me with what can only be described as astonishment, and I don't really want to see his expression. I mean, this is...it's kind of ridiculous. I can only imagine how this event could be recorded...

'Reis Dular, the woman who wielded a chocobo in battle.'

Finally the last man is down. The chocobo proudly struts through the bodies of the attackers it felled, curiously peering at me after a while. "Wa-warkweh?"

(Is that satisfactory?)

I bow shortly, warily glancing at the bruised and bleeding bodies scattered on the ground. "Yes, very much so. Are they still alive?"

"Wark?"

(Does that matter?)

Eh... "We don't kill unless it's necessary," I state, wondering why I'm even trying.

"Kweh. Warkweh."

(You mean -you- don't. Lots of monsters have moved northward because of the food just scattered across the ground)

The war, I see... "Thank you for your help."

It stares at me for a moment longer. "Kwark," it mutters before walking towards the path, and I fight a nearly unsuppressable urge to run after it and ask what it meant.

(It's not because I wanted to help a human that I went)

"Um..." I turn around to face a very confused Beowulf. "What was all that about?"

Honesty, Reis, honesty. "I wanted to help you, and it approached me. I don't know why it helped me, but..."

It was intimidated by me. That's why it helped. How do I explain that, though?

"Thank you, Reis..." he trails off, "but I didn't want to kill them." He gestures over their fallen bodies just as a crystal appears over one of them. Anyone who submits themselves to the especial magic of job classes will have their bodies completely changed, I've heard, so that on death the magic used to change a body will crystalize, freed from the organic impurities.

Seeing these people die before my eyes...somehow, somehow...

--Run...ev'ryone...--

Didn't they deserve it...?

I turn away. After a long moment, Beowulf takes my hand and leads me away from this place with the charred grass and shining crystals, pausing only to pick up my basket lying nearby.

We walk towards the plain yellowstone gate that houses Lionel Castle without a word. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him glancing at me every once in a while. He's worried. It seems like I always worry him, but I don't know how to adequately react.

Even while watching those men die...it was like this.

Something about it all makes my insides tremble.

The faintest touch of a memory...

--Run...ev'ryone...--

...I don't know what it is, though.

I should try to remember, but I'm scared to. It's scary. It's hard to change that part of me to be more receptive about memories I can't remember because...

I'm afraid of what that memory will tell me about myself.

"Reis, we're here." I look up. Why are we at the barracks? I give Beowulf a questioning look. He looks really serious and that gets to me because he rarely ever aims that particular expression at me. "I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

...Somehow, I don't think that I really have much of a choice. "Of course."

He opens the door, waiting for me to walk through before entering. I hear the creak of the door as it closes. Ah, back into the behemoth's den. It's bright and nearly aired out in here, something to thank the longer summer days and opened windows for.

"Are you feeling alright? You can sit down at that bunk over there if you want." I hear the crinkle of my straw basket being placed on the ground, then he comes up behind me and points to the two-tiered bed on the far left-hand side of the room, just before the narrow corridor.

I shake my head. "I'm fine." Not really. "What did you want to talk about?" Two subjects come up into my mind, and neither of them are ones I really want to broach.

"Are you sure you're not feeling sick?" Beowulf walks up in front of me and touches me lightly with his fingertips along the sides of my jaw, gently raising my face to look up at him, "I was, the first time I saw a person die."

Hm. "When was that?"

"I was twelve." His eyes are searching my face, but I don't know what he's expecting. As it is, I'm not altogether shocked or anything. "Why?"

Well... "I was two. It was a red panther."

His eyes widen. "Huh...but you know, animals and humans are different."

"...Really?" I look to the side, into the bright light of an open window. "I was always under the impression that humans are animals."

"Is that so?" Beowulf tries to catch my gaze, and I let him because I'm just tired right now. "I think you're right, but...it's not that straightforward, is it?"

Is life ever? "Probably not."

"Well..." Now he looks really hesitant. "Speaking of straightforward...what were you going to say before those men arrived?"

...I was quite content in being too stunned to say anything. However...that's probably not what he wants to hear. What he wants to hear and my true feelings...they're similar but I just can't wrap my voice around those words and expel them into the air for him to hear.

--I love you--

I open my mouth slightly, trying to force my voice out...say something, anything...

"I...um...I..."

Why...why isn't anything coming out...?

"Reis..." A small, delicate smile is on his face. It hurts to see it...where is his normal smile? That wide smile of fun and happiness and... "Don't worry about it. Don't force yourself to say something you don't mean."

I ruined his smile, didn't I? Because of my inability to understand my own feelings, because...

It's easier to talk to monsters, I swear. All of this is so frustrating...!

"That's not it, Beowulf," I struggle to push the words out as he starts removing his hands from my face, and I think I startled him because he freezes and looks into my eyes inquiringly. I reach up and clutch his upper arms, the material rough against my hands. If only it were his skin... "I really, really, really like you, more than anyone else

of those who are presently around

and I can say that because it's completely true, so don't...don't..."

Don't do that 'I'm so nice that I won't force you to say anything you don't want to because I can wait you out even though it's hurting me and hurting you until you say something first...'

Maybe I do understand you, just a little.

He looks deep into my eyes, fingers dragging upward on my face until the tips are on my cheekbones, then he starts chuckling. "That's a lot of 'reallys'." He quickly kisses my forehead before returning to gazing into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I wanted you to know how I felt about you and I wanted to hear the same thing from you. It didn't really occur to me it's harder for you because of everything that's happened to you."

I smile. "You do understand..."

"I'm trying." The smile on his face is his smile, which makes me feel so happy. "I want you to know that I'm here for you. If you ever need to talk, no matter what it's about, please come to me."

I'll definitely take him up on that offer someday, but now's not the time. "I will, Beowulf."

I don't know who initiates this kiss, whether it's because my hands are moving over his shoulders and pulling him to me or because he's already leaning in, but our lips just happen to meet. It's a sweet embrace, slow and affectionate and melting into a new type of kiss...well, every kiss is new to me, even after over a month. It's like there's an infinite amount of kisses, and even if I spent a lifetime with him I'd never discover all the ways to incorporate lip, tongue and hand movements.

...Well, I certainly hope not, anyway.

The door opens, creaking loudly. Of course. I don't recall asking for divine intervention this time, though. I move away from him and turn to face the doorway. Men start pouring into the barracks, many of them giving me curious looks. I lower my head, and it's only because of Beowulf's hands on my shoulders that I don't just leave.

Other than the looks, which I can understand, they're acting as if I should be expected here.

"Hey...who's the bird with Sir Kadmus?"

"Better watch what you call her. That's Miss Reis, the Murond cataloguer and his girlfriend."

"Oh. Damn. I'd break the rules for her too."

...Well, most of them. Slowly the heat spreads through my face. There's no one in my way...I can run right now...

Chiroseau enters the room with a young dark-haired knight in tow. Oh, it's the knight that got Chiroseau for me that day I delivered mail, the one from the Eastern Lands. Chiroseau looks at me, not looking pleased at all. He walks up to me and Beowulf, nodding slightly at me. "Kadmus, we have a problem."

Beowulf's hands tighten on my shoulders. "What sort of problem?" he asks quietly.

"The kind of problem..." Chiroseau pauses, then looks at me pointedly. "The kind of problem that could affect you."

"Fine, meet me in my office, I'm going to walk Reis out." I take this as my hint to start walking, the chatter of all the men in the room filling up my ears. Instinctively I know that Beowulf isn't behind me--he's talking to some men about going out to Bariaus Valley--so I stop after I'm on the other side of the threshold of the building. Steady, yet somewhat hurried steps approach me. "This is yours." I turn around and see my basket with my black cloth on its top.

"Thank you." I take the basket from Beowulf. "I hope that whatever happened isn't too bad."

He looks at me, mirth in his dark eyes. "Seems like everything's my fault, even when I don't do anything. Anyway, next time we have a picnic, I'll be carrying my sword."

"I thought you didn't want to kill anyone?" Oh, wait, Temple Knight spells. "Ah, sorry, I forgot about the spells."

"Hm," he murmurs noncommittally. "I'll see you later." He pauses, then smiles. "I love you."

My ears are burning. I smile widely and uncomfortably. "T-thank you."

"You're very welcome." He grins. "you're so cute."

Okay, I..I'm leaving now. "Until next time," I bow slightly, more to hide my red face than out of politeness, then I start walking towards the church. The door creaks closed a moment later.

God, it's so strange to hear those words towards me from someone who isn't a family member, but I...well...

I could grow used to hearing them.

And about my own feelings, well...I can't wait to fully untangle all my confusion and be able to say that I love him back.

I can't wait to see his face when I can say those words back.

-End to Twelve-

This chapter wasn't really supposed to exist in the first place. Most of it is mish-mash from other chapters: a scene that was originally supposed to be in chapter 9, the whole issue of love, which was supposed to be in the real chapter 12, which is now chapter 13. I think there's something here that wasn't even supposed be mentioned until chapter 19...or is that now chapter 20?
This chapter also starts on a different path. This fanfic is PG-13 for reasons I think are viable, and I will clearly mark a chapter if I think the content is crossing the line over to R-rated.

Right. Now that I've completely covered my ass, reviewers!

Luna-chan, am I the type of writer who throws out plot twists and constantly surprises readers with them? I honestly don't know. But, I will say that you're wrong and right about Reis at the same time. But you'll have to wait on exactly what for...a while. Y'know, I really liked writing Izlude. All cute and boyish...I was seriously hoping to have him join my party sooner or later, but...well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write about him, now can I? If you feel old about Shiawasena, what about me:P I was really surprised when I saw your first review for this story, but it was really comforting, considering that I was very unsure about breaking into a new section. It's really great to have people who think that my work is worth following, especially since I want to write professionally. Your commentary is always welcome for any of my stories, and I hope that your friend likes this story as well as you apparently do.

So, Mavina, you're like a non-powered up Arreat's Hymn now, huh? I find it so weird that you have such problems signing in and such, because I never run into those problems, especially with such a high percentage! Gah, everytime I play FFT I get depressed over Izlude...he seriously owned. As far as seeing Meliadoul and Izlude again...I can definitely say 'yes', but not in the main story. I want to write a short story with the whole Izlude-Reis-Meliadoul thing connected to WHW, just to write Izlude again. I'd say that Reis is more reserved than shy, but yeah. It's cute and fun for me to write, as well as adds personality. Okay, so now I understand Soa...y'know, LoD was like the only PSX game that I never really got into. I played a demo of it years back, but it was...eh. Can't really remember. I have heard it's like a ripoff of FFVII, but I've never played that game either, so...
Plot all you like, it'll all be revealed when I'm good and ready. P

Nice to meet you, crimsoncookie (I really like your name, by the way)! Um, thank you for telling me how you felt about this serial, it's always great to read reviews from people I've never seen before. I try to keep the balance of angst and uplifting moments (I refuse to say WAFF just 'cause I'm not that type of writer ) just right so that I don't scare off readers. >> Anyway, I'm honored to hear that I helped inspire you, and I can't wait to see some of your FFT work.

Hello, Kurai Tenshi--almost called you 'Kuroi' for a second--your comments made me blush! First person's my usual MO, and I don't think there would've been any way I could've written this story in third...it's hard bringing across all the emotion that way, y'know? I'm very happy that you enjoyed reading all the chapters in one sitting, that would've tired me out. You must definitely replay to experience Izlude! Anyway, I can't stop writing now, can I?

Thank you for reading this latest installment of Within Holy Walls! Reviewer or not, you still totally own Dycedarg's elder brother.

Chapter 13: Admission (--Express your mind--): "Verden, can you explain to me what this is about?"