Within Holy Walls

A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai

I don't own any of the characters or locations in this work, Square-Enix does.

Well, you know, if you mistake lust for love, you're in big trouble. Always, always someone's feelings get hurt. But...if you mistake love for lust, you just might have some major trust issues.
Peppermint's Lesson #1

Chapter 15: Layering (Cherche Duet)

Good afternoon, Miss Reis!

I turn around in the crowded marketplace, feeling the humid July air warp around my body. It's a good thing that I'm wearing such a breezy long dress. I don't want the cloth sticking to me. A smile tugs on the corners of my lips as soon as I see Chiroseau before me. He's wearing his uniform, so he must be on patrol. Good afternoon, Sir Chiroseau. How are you doing?

He smiles widely, dark blue eyes twinkling merrily. I've been doing fine, child. I've been wondering how you've been, though.

Why's that? I've been okay. I'm just enjoying my lunch break right now.

I see, I see, he looks around before his eyes settle on me again, would you indulge an old man and sit with me for a while?

Old man'? You don't look that old to me, then again, I did think that Beowulf was around my age, not six years my senior. Ages are so hard to figure out... I'd guess that you were just a bit over forty, I follow him to a bench off to the side of the road and we sit down and watch the housewives and their children scurry along.

You'd be correct, although most days I feel ten years older, I notice that he sits perfectly straight and I feel bad that I'm slouching, so I hurriedly straighten up just as he looks over at me, you understand, right?

About feeling older? Nowadays--usually when I'm with Beowulf--I feel like a little kid all over again. I suppose so.

He raises his hand and drags his fingers through his graying black hair. Kadmus is taking a big risk. I heard he asked you to that ball at the end of the month.

I blink at the change in subjects. Well, that is...

We're at Bariaus Valley, propped against a tree and watching the stars glimmer weakly in the waning moon's light. Beowulf's arm is around my shoulders, calloused fingers lightly caressing the bare skin of my upper arm. My head is on his shoulder, hands in my lap and eyes dimly staring out at the vastness of the night.

It's such a beautiful night.

His lips brush against my earlobe, and I smile awkwardly as a strange tingle courses through me. That's been happening a lot lately. I hope it happens more often. the single-syllable sound of my name is pushed out past his lips and into my ear. I can't help but blush. Do that again... I've wanted to ask you something for a while now.

Oh...

His fingers stop their rhythmic movement. I haven't asked it yet, I close my eyes and sink into the slightly husky quality of his amused murmur, do you remember when I told you about the annual ball held in Lionel Castle?

It's hard to think. I think so, I say slowly...

--She's also performing at the annual ball that the nobles hold in this town...it's in late July--

...I remember. What about it?

Normally, all of us in this town would be on duty that night, what with all those nobles in one place and all, but everybody thought it would be a good idea if I actually went to the ball this year, so... I am focusing on his words. Truly I am. But the humming quality within his low whispers is almost mesmerizing, would you like to go?

...Is it my turn to talk now? I feel like drifting...

He pulls away from me and I open my eyes partially at this disturbance. Reis, are you tired? I guess we should go back, he's not whispering in my ear anymore...well, it was good while it lasted.

I place my right hand on his knee and look over at him with half-lidded eyes. I guess this means I should make a dress, right?

he smiles, I can't wait to see you in it.

I lower my head from Chiroseau's faintly concerned expression. I guess that's something we'll deal with when the time comes.

Truthfully, I'm more worried about you rather than Kadmus, patting my shoulder, he smiles a little oddly when I look up at him, Buremonda won't be happy if word should get back to him about the gorgeous, tall woman in the unique dress hanging onto Sir Kadmus' arm'.

Well, I don't know about that. That could be a lot of women...

Right?

Chiroseau stares at me. I've lived here for nearly six years now, so I know nearly everybody here. Gorgeous' and tall' aren't words that can be used to describe any woman in this town, I frown a bit. Doesn't he think he's being a little mean there? Miss Reis, there are a lot of pretty women here, but I can count the number of women that are as tall as a man using both hands, and a couple of them are white mages.

Oh. Of course.

So, that means that he'd immediately start checking to see where those white mages were that night, as well as myself... that's annoying. Other than the occasional visit to a restaurant, Beowulf and I never do anything in public sight. That's not a bad thing, but I really would've liked to see what a ball' is like...

Theoretically, he wouldn't even have to, he looks out at the people filling the streets, I'll give that priest some credit when it comes to his intelligence. Has he seen you wear one of your more unique clothes?

Has Verden? I'm not sure...

--You look like an adventurer--

...I...yes. This really isn't my lucky day. Yes, unfortunately.

Chiroseau glances at me, worry deep in his eyes, is this a risk you're willing to take?

--I want to be with you, and he can't do anything to me anyway...and I don't think that he would do anything to you, either--

Beowulf...when you said that, were you just trying to comfort me, or did you really mean it?

I want to believe in your words.

Slowly, confidently I look into Chiroseau's eyes. I told him

The worry still glimmers in his eyes, and I'm suddenly sorry that I'm making him feel this way. You're a woman who keeps to her path, he says, pain coursing through his words, Kadmus is lucky to have someone like you.

I don't understand the pain in his words...why does he sound like that?

The agony, something that lies deep inside...

--She's...gone...--

Something he once told me months ago...

--When you meet and quickly marry without completely knowing your partner, then leave for the war, well...--

I lower my head. That's right...his wife, who didn't die but still left...she didn't keep to her path at all.

Beowulf's mother...Chiroseau's wife. Women who leave either emotionally or physically because their husbands are gone...is this a consequence of war?

I wonder...

Looking at Chiroseau like this, having looked at Beowulf...women and men really have such a strong effect on each other. The effect we have on each other...

We all wield it so horribly, as if there were no consequences.

I'm sorry, Sir Chiroseau, I look at him, his pain, and I suddenly have a strange urge to...hm, I'm not sure, but it's throbbing in my throat, it's your wife...you're thinking about your wife, right?

He makes an affirmative sound. It's been about seven years since I received the letter from Thandi, the nanny, saying that Aliana had left, taking all her possessions with her. She left the children, and I thank God for that every day, dark eyes narrowing, he looks up into the bright blue sky, at least I know where they are so I can visit them once a year.

Wouldn't a father want to be with his children for longer than that? Why aren't you with them year-round?

The Church won't let me, he says candidly, they transferred me from Bervenia to Murond--where I received the letter--then to Lionel to be Lionel castle town's commander.

I frown. I thought that Beowulf is the leader of the Lionel Holy Knights...?

He is, Chiroseau clarifies, for the entire sect in Lionel. I'm just the head for the knights stationed in this town, just like there's one in Zaland, Goug and Warjilis. It's a tiered system.

Okay, so if Beowulf's the leader of the whole military sect in Lionel and he's only twenty-seven, and Chiroseau's the head of the knights in this town at his forties...um... Isn't Beowulf really young for his job, then?

He looks over at me, a slight smile on his face. A bit, but I'd say that he was Examiner Draclau's best decision.

Hm. Do you think it's strange though?

he seems a bit hesitant, I'll admit that it's odd to walk into his office and see him happily munching on candy, because that reminds me too much of my son snacking just before supper, but other than that he's qualified.

I sigh. Beowulf and sweets...I'll never understand it. And everyone shares your viewpoint?

Miss Reis, I look at his comforting smile, on our end, we'll do whatever we can to make sure that Kadmus doesn't get into any trouble with Buremonda, but are the white mages as solidly on your side?

Well...no. Actually, they still seem to hate or dislike me greatly. Peppermint was my only friend among them... Not at all, but I don't care.

If you say so, he says gently, but it's always a good idea to make friends, just in case.

Ah. I'll try to keep that in mind. Thank you.

He nods absently, going back to looking into the crowd. I do the same, watching mothers and daughters carry baskets filled with food to cook for tonight's supper.

It must be nice to have a family to go back to and cook for...

--Mama, can I help tonight?--

It is nice...

--Of course you can, Reis darling. Here, you can start by cutting these roots...--

I miss it.

As much as I like to go out to restaurants with Beowulf and have a meal made to my specifications, it's not the same. Peppermint left, and I can't use the stove or oven because I don't know how to cast a spell.

I'd like to cook more for Beowulf, even if it's just those candies of his...

So, how are you and Kadmus doing?

What? I turn to Chiroseau, who has a fatherly smile on his face. Closing my eyes, I can picture Papa... I would think that Beowulf would tell you, and that sounds rude, doesn't it? But, I mean...Beowulf's a better communicator than I am.

Oh, he does, he rolls his eyes and I giggle because I can just imagine how much he's had to hear lately, he's normally in a good mood, but lately it's just been sickening. And because I'm the one who always has to report to him, I'm always hearing something like, I'm going out with Reis tonight, so can you make sure so-and-so doesn't forget when his shift is?' or, Reis wants to go out to Bariaus Valley and I want to bring a snack for her, but I hate sour stuff. You like sour foods, right Chiroseau? Can you recommend something?' or--

Laughing, I hold out my hands. I understand, I understand! I lower my hands to my lap. But...why ask me as well?

Well, you remind me so much of Aimee that I just can't help it, he smiles warmly, I feel like my own daughter is being courted, so I'm naturally worried.

I guess that makes sense. Well, I really enjoy being with him...

We're inside Beowulf's office and his mouth is on mine. I can feel his hands on my shoulder blades and mine are securely on his shoulders. The kiss is wet, lips sliding against each other and with plenty of tongue. I'm sure I'm standing, but it's hard to concentrate on anything other than my lips and tongue and moving them just--

Fingers at the bottom of my braid pull at the ribbon holding it in place, unleashing my hair from the intricate style.

...I can't stand it when he does that, and he does that every time! I mean, I liked it the first time he did that, but it doesn't mean that I like that every time...

I pull away from him. Beowulf, was that really necessary?

slowly he opens his eyes, your hair, you mean?

I give him a blank look. I put up my hair not for you to undo it. I like it up.

Really? I think it looks better when it's down, I raise an eyebrow at this. What exactly is he telling me? ...although you always look beautiful.

If I believed all his compliments, I'd have a horrible ego within a year, if not less. But really, this is starting to get annoying...ah, I know. Beowulf, why do you always slick your hair back?

He smiles at my innocent question. To keep it out of the way, then he blinks, his expression thoughtful, ...I see. Sorry, Reis.

I smile and turn around. Okay, can you please put it back up? A braid, like the one I had before, I can feel his hands gather up my hair, which is down past my shoulder blades. I should cut it soon. His hands stop moving.

I don't know how to braid.

...Ah. Oh, okay, I raise my hands to the back of my head, taking my hair from Beowulf's hands and easily sectioning it into three, then plaiting it quickly. Holding together the end of the braid with one hand, I hold out the other one. I feel the smoothness of my ribbon placed into that hand, and I tie off my braid. Turning around to Beowulf, I notice his wide grin...what's that for?

Thank you, Reis, his eyes crinkle and...why do I feel like I've just done something stu...oh.

Reaching back with my left hand, I untie the ribbon. Please do it this time, Beowulf, I can't keep the irritation out of my voice. I can't believe how easily I fell for that...

But I didn't undo this time, he says with a relatively straight face, you did.

...It's nice to know that I can feel just as idiotic when I'm not saying something as much as when I am. I sigh and put up my hair in a simple ponytail before looking up at his infuriatingly wide smile. I ask, none too kindly.

He steps up to me, placing a roughened thumb just under my lower lip, then drifting it up over the swell. Your lips are really red, he murmurs, and a delicious thrill races through my body.

I can't ever stay annoyed at him...

Gazing at his lips, I can't help but smile. So are yours.

Is that so? Good, he starts to lean in, then we're the same...

...Sometimes though, he can be so ridiculous, I smile fondly.

Sounds like love, Chiroseau says with amusement, and I immediately turn and look at him. He seems startled at my reaction by the way his eyes widen, is something wrong, child?

...Wrong? Other than my inability to tell Beowulf the words he can easily admit to me? Three simple words, eight letters in the alphabet, three syllables, with the etymologies ranging all the way back to the Yudora Empire, where ships flew in the air as if they were birds...

If I can't say those words, what does that mean?

I don't even know if I'll mean them once I can force them in the open, where they'll be etched into our memories until the end of our lives. And that's like saying they'll be remembered forever...

Is that how I feel? Can my feelings last forever?

Do they even exist like how I want them to exist?

I wish Peppermint had taught me...how do you realize you're in love?

I wonder if I'm in love, I lean back and look into the sky. A cloudless day...

The feelings I have for Beowulf, these feelings far beyond my comprehension...they could probably float beyond this visible sky into the heavens...maybe.

Is that love?

Love'. Love, love, love.

Hn.

What Beowulf can easily say...I don't even know if I feel towards him. Maybe it's just a heavily expanded like'?

...That feels wrong. Why?

Love is such a complicated feeling, isn't it? Chiroseau says kindly, and I look over at him and nod wordlessly. Kadmus has told you that he loves you?

There's no use in hiding it. Less than a month ago, two, three weeks ago, I think, very recently.

It sounds like you didn't give him an answer? I don't know how he can sound so calm saying something like that.

I smile painfully. It feels like a lot of effort, anyway. I told him that I really, really, really like' him.

He closes his eyes, then opens them again, no visible emotion brimming from them. That's a lot of

--That's a lot of reallys'--

I sigh, dragging out the exhalation for as long as possible. That's what Beowulf said.

I'm guessing that meant that he accepted your answer, I wince. I didn't want to answer like that at all... although it seems that you're not comfortable with it?

Sitting up straight again, I look directly at Chiroseau. I want my feelings to match his perfectly. He's been so kind, so affectionate, so understanding towards me, and I... I lower my eyes because I don't want to face his expression, whatever it is, but...I should...I have to start facing forward. I look up into his concerned eyes, and I can't help but feel so guilty, what's wrong with me, Sir Chiroseau? He's so wonderful to me, yet I can't tell him...

He stares at me as if he were studying me. Do you feel as if you absolutely have to return his feelings?

yes, I wonder...is saying yes' a bad answer?

It wouldn't be the answer I was hoping to hear, he admits in a low tone. I moan low in my throat. Of course it wouldn't be the right answer, the easiest one never is, why do you feel as if you have to, child?

I bite down on my lower lip, gnawing it lightly. Because he deserves it. Because if there's anyone in this world who deserves to be loved, it's him.

I wonder if I could already love him.

he looks at me pointedly, why you, Miss Reis?

I wonder if it is love.

Because I'm the only one that can love him the way he needs to be loved, my eyes are stinging, so I close them and wait for the feeling to pass before opening them again, more than anybody else...

Or maybe...

Chiroseau looks worried again. I'm sorry... Loving him for his sake, instead of yours...does that really sound like love to you?

My feelings that go beyond me...maybe they're just...

No, but I can't admit it. It just hurts, not being able to force the words out.

No, it can't be it! I won't believe it...

Maybe that's your problem, Miss Reis, he smiles sadly, you're forcing it.

My feelings aren't just of lust, either.

I open my mouth, wanting to counter his words.

I've arrived early in the morning. It's my day off, and I wanted to surprise him because I know that he has patrol in the afternoon. He once said that he likes it when I surprise him, so here I am. A visibly startled knight lets me in, and I purposefully walk through the room. He's not in here, so he must be in his office. I step through the threshold and Beowulf is there, standing next to his desk and putting on that scarf all knights seem to be required to wear.

He looks over at me, his normal smile easily appearing. Oh, good morning. Hold on a second, okay?

I nod dumbly, watching as the bare skin of his neck is swallowed up underneath folds of cloth, over

Skin to skin,

and around

moving rythmically,

and under.

arching underneath him...

Peppermint, if I did that without exactly knowing if I love him or not...would that be so bad, do you think?

Right now...I don't think it'd be so bad.

I just don't know, Sir Chiroseau, I begin weakly, I wonder who hurts more in the end: the person who loves and doesn't have his feelings reciprocated, or the one who isn't sure of her feelings, so every time she hears him say how much he loves her, she can't say it back?

He shakes his head. Maybe we as human beings just have a need to complicate the feeling. It's in our nature, I guess.

...That's not helpful. Because I'm human...why can't I uncomplicate my feelings by changing something I can actually change? That's depressing.

That's love, and he sounds sad. I feel sad.

When I was with my family, I didn't have to think about if I loved Mama and Papa and my brothers. Why would I need to? They were my family.

I just don't understand.

I'm sick of thinking about it. I have to go back to work anyway, then back to sewing up my dress for the ball in a couple of weeks. I have too many things to do to sit around and worry about love.

Sir Chiroseau, I should be returning to work now, I stand up and stretch discreetly, arms lengthening behind my back, while holding in a midday yawn. He stands up as well, sadness lingering in his eyes.

It was good to talk to you, he nods. I bow in return, and I hope that you can figure out your feelings...not for Kadmus, but for yourself.

Sighing, I nod tiredly. Thank you for your concern. Until next time, I bow once again, then I step into the droves of people wandering about the shopping area, crossing through them until I find the smaller street that will lead me back to the church.

I'm not good at figuring out my feelings. All I know is...I like Beowulf.

But...love?

How can I say that with the deep throbbing ache inside that wants more than simple kisses and clothed hugs?

I'm so scared...what if I don't love him? What if I do give in to this insistent want?

What about Beowulf's wants and needs?

I stop.

What does Beowulf want?

--------

I used to love to sew. Not just because of the actual creation process, because I still love it for that reason, but because I could drift away and not have to think about anything.

I liked myself better when I wasn't thinking.

Now, though...I try not to let myself drift away like that. I can't run away anymore, I need to stand up and face my fears. Of course, I don't really have a lot of fears. Just a lost memory and doubt.

It just goes on from there.

I know I care for Beowulf. I care so much...I don't want to hurt him. He's been hurt enough as is just because he wasn't given the love that he deserved...

Aren't I doing the same thing?

My inability to talk, to tell him worries me. I know I'm not the most vocal person, but even so...

Maybe it means something. Maybe I don't love him now, but I will in the future.

The future...what a vague distance.

As much as I try to open myself up, it seems that I just can't go past some natural boundaries. I'm trying, I really am, but...

I stop sewing, lowering my head and staring at the white of my half-completed dress.

--You're not alone--

I remember when he said that and I thought to myself that words don't mean anything unless you prove it. And now look at me, agonizing over one word.

On top of all my other faults, I'm a hypocrite too.

Focusing on my lap, I see the white of my dress. Pure white, just like fluffy clouds over the valley, against a background of the clearest blue...



I rarely ever initiate a kiss. Usually I leave that to Beowulf's discretion, but lately I've been feeling sort of...edgy. Less than three weeks to complete a dress, Beowulf's feelings...I'm just confused.

Why can't we just communicate only through actions? Kissing, touching...they're movements that linger at the edge of my memory, not substantial enough to do more than just make me want, yearn to make another hazy memory.

Words, though...I remember every word all too well. Sometimes I really don't want to.

His hands are trickling down my back, fingers playing with the bottom hem of my blue blouse. I wonder if he remembers it as the one I wore that day I was looking for thread and I nearly punched him because he surprised me. He correctly identified it as a male squire's shirt, and I didn't realize it at the time that it would've been stranger if he hadn't.

There are lots of things I didn't--I don't--realize at any given time.

His face is in my hands. I like his face. It has angles, which are really fun to run my fingers over. Today he has stubble, which is partially my fault because I asked if we could go over to Bariaus Valley in the morning and he readily agreed with that wonderful smile on his face. I don't like running my fingers through the tiny prickles as much, but it's still interesting.

Anything of Beowulf's is immediately interesting to me...to a point.

His left leg is between my legs. I'm kneeling over him, because he was sitting and looking at the sky when I just swung my left leg over his, placed my hands on his slightly surprised-looking face and kissed him. It's strange to be so forward, so masculine in my approach, but it's also kind of...exciting. I don't know why...it just is. It's probably really bad of me to be enjoying it so much.

But he let me--is letting me--so how bad can it truly be?

Coarse fingers brush along bare skin and I freeze.

He's never touched me anywhere other than my face or shoulders, so this...it's like a new kind of touch.

I can't say I mind it.

Beowulf moves his head back and, when I open my eyes, I see the strange look he's giving me, hidden within the general haziness with which we often gaze at each other after we kiss. It's odd, because it's the same look he has whenever I ask him something semi-important, like which restaurant we're going to or what sort of dress I should make for the ball. That pensive, hesitant sort of look.

Why is he looking at me like that...?

His glance shifts past me and something new flickers within his brandy eyes. Look at the clouds, Reis, his voice has such a light tone to it that I can't help but turn my head. Wow, that's a lot of clouds, big and fluffy and white. They're cute clouds.

Do you think it's going to rain? I turn back and he's staring at me with a strange little smile.

You're such a realist, he grins. I raise an eyebrow at this. That's a skill I learned from being with Beowulf, along with breathing through my nose. They're both needed skills.

Anyway, what's so bad about being realistic? Clouds equal rain, and I don't like getting my clothes wet while I'm in them. Isn't that a good thing?

He stops grinning at this, although he still retains a small smile. Of course, his gaze flickers from me to the clouds again, when I was little, Sis would tell me that there was once a kingdom built on the clouds.

What happens once the clouds dissipate? I move so that I'm back to sitting next to him, his hands dropping away from my back as I do so. I want to look up at the clouds more, too.

Well, Lesalia has cloudy skies at least two-thirds of the year, so I didn't really think about that, he glances over at me, knowing Sis, she would've said something like, the cloud kingdom just moves over to another part of the world where it can use more clouds for its foundation.'

I guess if there really is a cloud kingdom, it would probably do something like that. I would've liked to live in the cloud kingdom, I look over at him. He has an inquisitive expression on his face, I think it'd be really fun to float around all the time.

I think I'd just be really scared all the time, he yawns and leans back, lying on the ground before giving me a look that I...what does that mean? Reis, you like heights though, right?

I'm just used to them, that's all, why is he throwing me that look again?

Why don't you lie down? It's more comfortable than straining your neck looking up like that, smiling, he stretches out his arm, I won't let your hair get dirty.

I'm not worried about that. A little perturbed--does he really think I'm the type of person to care about twigs in my hair or something?--I lean back, resting my head against his chest. His arm curls up around me, hand lightly holding my forearm. I snuggle up to him, throwing my left arm around his waist. Oops, now his hand is on my waist. Sorry about that.

Lips press against the top of my head. It's fine, the hand not on my waist runs up and down my outstretched arm, I thought you'd want to go back, since you're concerned about rain and all.

I close my eyes, trying to put my right arm into a comfortable position. Finally, bending my arm above my head, I place my hand on his shoulder. Hopefully it won't get all tingly when I have to sit up. I do like clouds, and summer rain is a bit rare in July here, I think.

Beowulf mumbles, you know, I don't think you belong in the clouds.

...Hm? Why do you say that?

Because...you're real. You're not an impassive, serene angel, he pauses, then kisses my forehead, you're realistic, and you're empathic, and you're...alive.

Inside, I feel as if I'm floating.

You're right, I don't belong there, I smile, raising my head slightly to kiss his cheek, prickly and reminding me that I'm awake, I belong with you.

I don't need to be on clouds in order to float.

I drop my needle and thread and throw myself back onto my bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.

I love him. I love him not.

I don't know.

-End to chapter 15-

Ah, build up. Fun, fun, fun. Incidentally, one of my best friends is going through something remarkably similar. When I started reading back some of the chapter to her on Sunday night, she thought I was recapping her situation. She wasn't pleased when she found out the truth...but, as far as I'm concerned, it's an incredibly common situation. Feelings never quite match up perfectly.

- Cherche': One of the four perfumes in the game, this one has a refreshing scent'. It has Always: Float and Reflect and is the common poach from a King Behemoth. Suddenly, I feel like GameFAQs, but I just like poaching. I'd guess it's French, and I don't know what it means. Search'?

-So, there were some questions about the last chapter, notably about Beowulf's relationship with his parents. I'm sorry that I didn't get it across very well, so here's the synopsis of it:

Beowulf's mother is a brunette with hazel eyes. Beowulf's father is a brunet with green eyes. Amelia is a brunette with green eyes. Beowulf is a blond with red eyes. For sure Beowulf is his mother's child, but no one thinks that Professor Kadmus is the one who fathered him. Being a kind man, the professor accepted Beowulf as his son, but there was still a horrible scandal since Beowulf sure looks illegitimate. Because of this, Beowulf's mother hated Beowulf, even more so after the professor left for the war. Too bad DNA testing didn't exist at this time...

Reviewers!

Hey, Luna-chan. Y'know, I liked Wiegraf, but for all his ideals and such, he wasn't an infallible hero at all. I mean, he gave up his soul to Lucavi just so he could live, and his hatred for Ramza clouded over his noble beliefs and his desire to avenge his sister in the end. So, I guess...I liked him when he seemed like a hero, but didn't care for him once he showed how human he truly was. Yeah, I'm judgmental like that. I wish I had hot cocoa, but instead I have lukewarm oolong tea. Now I'm depressed...

No-name Dean Garrison...something about that seems a bit off. ; I'm happy that you've enjoyed the story as much as you have, and I find that stories through lesser characters are so much more interesting on average than reading about the hero. If I wanted that, I'd play the game again. My story'...kinda odd when I'm writing fanfiction, huh? But yeah, I'll agree about the number of novelizations out there, but people like improving' on the original, I guess...

Ah, Toastyann, nice to see you again! I don't know if I could ever get tired of hearing that, I do have an ego to feed, after all. ; But yes, Reis' change is very interesting, especially when I look back on the earlier chapters. It's actually disconcerting. ; But, uh...it was Reis' mother who said the men and women' line; unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your take of this chapter, Peppermint wasn't nearly as discriminating.
I'm happy that my review meant something, thanks for telling me! Um, that line in my first review...I believe I was talking about the mood of the story, and what it seems like your tone is for most of the scenes. Other than that Kaoru/Yahiko insult scene, the story was going along slowly at that time. Of course, since then the energy's sped up, notably during the fight scene with the ninja. I guess I'm not good at explaining, I'm sorry. If you want to find me about something that's not this story, I'd appreciate it if you email me.

Nice to meet you, Kay Willow....that's a pretty name. To be honest, I didn't notice that it was a review for chapter 2 until you mentioned it. ; But now I wish I owned a Palm Pilot, because I'd so be reading fanfics during math or something. I'm extremely happy that you've really enjoyed the story so far! I'm not sure why I like this couple so much either, but I just do, y'know? May I ask why you say that I have good taste' though? Is it because I'm writing Beowulf/Reis, or how I'm writing them? I can't wait to read the specifics!

Arreat, you have extremely sensitive hearing too? It sucks, doesn't it? I'm sorry to hear that you've had a bad week, but it's good to know that the chapter cheered you up! Arguably, I believe that Beowulf has enough lines in the game for a hidden' special character, but Reis only gets one actual' line. I've heard the reason why--because she was a dragon for so long--but it doesn't mean that she's mute! I'm not sure about your question...I've either answered it in this chapter's notes, or maybe I'm not understanding it. Um, because he was born with them? Gah, Reis' chapter is coming up soon

Thank you for reviewing! Please feel free to leave any comments or questions, and should you need to contact me about something other than this fanfic, I do have a shiny email address!

Chapter 16: The Lovely Burn-out (Setiemson Nocturne): I don't care anymore, I don't see why I should've ever in the first place. Maybe what worked for Peppermint doesn't work for me, I don't know.

I want Beowulf. Isn't that enough?'