Within Holy Walls
A Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic
By Tenshi no Ai
I don't own the characters and locations in the game that are presented in this work, Square-Enix does.
You're so beautiful.
I don't say anything, only giggling a little as his lips meander around my shoulder blades, light little kisses making me squirm in a fluttery happiness. One of his arms is around my waist, holding me in an attempt to still my involuntary twists and jerks. I can't help it; ever since he found out I was ticklish in that area, it's become a favorite place for him to tease me. He's very good at that, and it's very unfair. He's not very ticklish at all, and he really enjoys flaunting that.
Ah, what a cruel world...
After a firm kiss to my nape, his lips pull away from me. But I liked that... You're perfect. Flawless...
What does he mean? If he's talking about my body, he's completely wrong. Turning so that I'm laying on my back, I look over at him. Can you really say that? I ask, my voice hushed in the still of the night.
His hand travels over my abdomen until his fingers happen upon the horizontal scar just below my ribcage, tracing lightly over the scarred skin. Do you think it's ugly?
...Well, it really doesn't look all that attractive, having such a scar laid out on my skin like that. I don't think I would've minded if it had been from a monster, but its perfect line reveals it as truly a human's doing. After all, humans try their best to perfect warfare, creating weapons designed to inflict a perfect wound. Of course, as a hunter, I once used those weapons for that exact purpose, although the reasons were completely different.
Does that make it more noble, though?
I don't like it, I whisper. It just proves that my existence now was not supposed to be, what do you think?
Affectionally, he kisses my cheek. I don't think it's that bad, he kisses my jaw, then my neck, lingering at the latter, I don't like the meaning behind it, but by itself it looks...unique.
I can't help the shallow quality of my breathing as I bare more of my neck to him. I'm not a collector's item like the traveling vendors like to sell.
he mumbles into the crook of my neck, the hand at my scar slowly drifting upwards, you can't deny that.
Well...and I'm not going to either as long as you keep doing that... Either way, it's not flawless, somehow, I'm able to grasp that point and hold on for dear life.
He lifts himself so that his body is over mine, his forearms on either side of my head. I like the heaviness'--though he isn't really--of his body on mine. It's comforting. I was talking about all of you, not just your body, his lips press against mine in a deceptively simple kiss, and when he pulls away I can see the familiar curve of a smile with the small amount of silver light streaming into the room, it's just that you're too biased to see that.
I'm biased, is that so? Beowulf, I think you're more biased than I am.
He sounds genuinely shocked...which is sort of startling. I thought he was just making a joke... No, well...I think you're amazingly beautiful and all-around just incredible to behold...but I'm not biased, the moonlight accentuates a flash of his teeth as he quickly grins, I'm hurt that you'd think that way, love.
...Oh, is that so? I see. Then, I hope you'll accept my apology, I smile as I raise my arms, running my hands along his back and neck, letting my fingertips drag up and down through his hair. He always likes that, after all, you're so wonderfully kind and a very admirable man, so I really shouldn't doubt you... lifting my head up, I let my lips caress the lower part of his ear, but I'm definitely not biased.
When I pull away, I'm treated to another moonlight-touched grin. You see, we understand each other perfectly--or, at least we try. That's why we'll always be together, he begins to randomly place kisses all over my face, and I can do is smile and make sure that each part of my face is thoroughly treated, didn't I say it was fate?
--It must've been fate that we met--
Yes, yes he did. I've always remembered those words...the first words in such a long time that truly affected me. Those words were the first that made me think that Sir Beowulf Kadmus was very strange and...interesting.
I believe in those words. There have been been many words that he's said that I've felt were exaggerations or just strange affectations, like a few of the words that accompany his not-so-Lionel accent. I can't place that well-traveled accent. I can't place where those overwhelming words bubble up from. All I can place are the effects of that voice, those words on my being, and how much I appreciate them.
I sometimes have my doubts, but I really do appreciate him: who he is, what he is to me, everything. There's just so much...
I'm not willing to give that up. That's an unforgivable crime to make me do so. I'm innately selfish and more than willing to prove it. I won't leave him.
But I don't know what to do now.
Slowly disentangling myself from Beowulf's arms, I pull myself into a sitting position as he mutters something and scrunches himself deeper into sleep. For a knight, he really doesn't become instantly alert when something happens. In Murond, the knights are trained to be battle-ready at a moment's notice. Maybe this peaceful slumber is something he's adjusted to while with me...but probably not. I don't think I'm the sort of person that can inspire someone to change, even if it's just their sleeping habits.
I'm the one that's always changing, because Beowulf is inspirational that way.
I lean against the headboard and the wall behind it, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It's still mostly dark...it's probably almost six. I can't believe I was able to go to sleep, but now I feel like it wasn't worth it at all. I'm still tired, I'm still jittery, I'm still unable to think properly.
I'm still scared.
It's just...it's not fair. Well, it probably is, but my mind can't see it any other way. All I can see it as is just a cruel tactic, even with the words supporting that action.
--But, I will protect you now. I plan on sending you back to Murond at the end of the week--
It...scares me. Not just the fact that I could be separated from Beowulf, but...
--Because I have always been devoted to you. Reis, I truly love you--
That scares me a lot.
If it was just righteous anger aimed at me for breaking a rule, I could understand. That's what Peppermint had gotten, after all. It'd hurt, but it would be the consequence of my actions, and somewhere deep down I can understand that. But to say he loves me...no. That makes everything different. It's just out of a selfish desire.
If I can't have you, no one can' ...right?
Beowulf stirs, turning onto his side and reaching out for me, only to throw his arm over my legs. He freezes for a second, then slowly opens his eyes. he says after noting my position.
Good morning, really?
He shakes his head at this while pulling himself into a sitting position as well. I'm not so sure about that, frowning slightly, he glances at me before leaning back, but, let's make it a good morning. Let's start thinking.
It's easy to say that, isn't it? hm, I should try to sound more enthusiastic...
he's obviously pleased, now, what's our goal?
I look at him. Doesn't he know? Excuse me?
He chuckles. Defining a goal is a good way to start a planning session, I shrug at this. I wouldn't know...though I guess it makes sense, so, what's our goal?
I look down and smooth out the wrinkles in my clothes, adjusting my blouse and the dress over it idly. What is our goal? Is it to just stay together? Or stay together in Lionel? Isn't that asking for too much?
How much can we truly expect now? Do we have any hidden power that would enable us to do what we wish?
...Well, obviously not.
I would be happy anywhere, as long as I was with Beowulf. It's definitely a naive thing to put my trust in, but right now it seems fine. Because I could lose him, it seems alright...
Beowulf is giving me an expectant look when I focus on him again. Seeing that, I'm sure that he already has a goal in mind. Maybe as a leader, he feels obligated to listen to other people first before presenting his own ideas. Or maybe it's just his innate fairness. Our goal is to stay together. Whether or not we're in Lionel is an extraneous detail right now.
Right, exactly, he smiles as he takes my hand in his, our fingers automatically entwining together, in fact, it's probably safe to assume that we couldn't stay in this town, at least.
Hm, but... 'At least'? But you have to stay in Lionel.
He hesitates, something confusing flickering in his eyes. Yes, that's true...
...? Do you already have a plan, Beowulf?
What? No, no, nothing really, I'm wary...there's something he's thinking of, that's for sure. Hn, anyway, what makes this a bit more difficult is that you're a ward of the Church as well as an employee.
Not of my own choice. Yes, that's true. At least, until I'm married, that's how the law goes for women, anyway. When a man turns into an adult--the age tends to change every few years, but I believe they're using the age of inheritance for now. That's around fifteen or sixteen, I think.
But of course, a sixteen-year-old man can take care of himself more than a twenty-one-year-old woman...the Church really believes in equality, doesn't it?
And if we could do that, we wouldn't be worrying in the first place, Beowulf looks distinctly annoyed now, of course, the war will end before Buremonda will ever willingly grant us a marriage ceremony.
I sigh. Of course. I see...
Don't worry, he says warmly, squeezing my hand and running his thumb over the ridges of my knuckles, there are other ideas, right?
Beowulf, do you have one in mind? There are too many things to consider that it's very hard to think of something. Beowulf needs to stay in this town for his job. There's just no other way around it. Even if he could transfer himself to another place in this region...first of all, I couldn't ask him to do that, and it would take too long anyway. I don't know how fast paperwork can be sent around, but I'm sure it's longer than the couple of days I have left.
Once again, he looks hesitant. Yes, I do. I could just send a complaint to Murond, alleging misconduct on Buremonda's part, I stare at him, the abuse of power regarding his treatment of this situation, as well as dictating control over the knights with the whole fraternization deal, oh, I think I understand, but there's a couple problems with that.
It would take too long, and... I frown, wouldn't that start something between the knights and the priests?
--And knights...oh, knights and priests just don't get along, period. That's just how it is--
He nods. The Church is supported by centuries of internal bickering. The knights resent the power that the priests hold over them, and the priests think that the knights owe them for bringing them closer to God, a slightly amused sort of smile crosses his face, or something like that. I don't really care.
Hm, I see. And somehow they maintain a status quo that way... But you've never liked Priest Buremonda, I murmur.
--Reis is...I won't use Reis in this petty little thing with Buremonda--
That's what he said, that day that I was made to bring those books to the barracks, but I've never really understood why they started disliking each other. At least, not why Beowulf started to dislike Buremonda.
--I know why Sir Kadmus wouldn't like Priest Buremonda. When Priest Buremonda first made the announcement, he expected Sir Kadmus to make the same declaration to the knights. But Sir Kadmus said that his job wasn't to tell the knights who they could date. Priest Buremonda then insinuated that Sir Kadmus' refusal secretly meant that he had a secret girlfriend somewhere--
...Except for that. Well, I don't know why, but I have a feeling that Beowulf hasn't liked Buremonda for a very long time now.
Hm? Well, he's only kind to women and his superiors, he mentions in an offhand tone, casually gazing into my eyes...why is he doing that? It makes me feel uncomfortable...
--Because I have always been devoted to you. Reis, I truly love you--
My tone comes out more harshly than I would've liked, but it does its purpose of breaking Beowulf's stare.
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Buremonda's words, his feelings...they don't matter.
If they did, that would be worse.
Beowulf mutters, anyway, why were you asking? It's not very important.
That's true. No reason, really. I was just curious, it's my turn to comfortingly squeeze his hand, was there anything else that wouldn't have worked with your plan?
He makes a face. That makes me feel so much better about it, love, smiling now, he shakes his head, there's a bigger chance of the complaint not going through at all, or for a cover-up...and that'd affect you. And even if it did go through and the Church went into a huge uproar over it...well, I'd hate to prove everyone right in the first place...not like I wouldn't do it for you anyway.
Prove everyone right'...?
--It could reverberate throughout all of Lionel, even to the ranks in Murond...then what? Most of the priests barely tolerate us as is--
Oh. Right. I see.
Don't worry...hm, deja vu. Well, we still have plenty of time, he looks a little less sure than before, but he still smiles at me anyway, we'll think of something.
Even at this time, he can still say that...I really appreciate that. His smile may be dimmer, but it's still there. This situation is looking more and more hopeless, but he can still say that we have time, and that we'll think of something...they're just words, but he wields them so well. We don't naturally have the same sort of attitude carrying us forward, but...I feel I can depend on him
I wish he could depend on me, too. As it is, I'm struggling to depend on myself and I'm not succeeding.
There's a question looming before us. What can we do?' It's there, getting larger and more ominous with each passing moment. But even with that, I'm not feeling so bad right now. I don't know if we can do anything, but maybe...
We just have to keep going until the very end. That's all there is now.
Slowly, I bring up our entwined hands to my lips, gently kissing the back of his hand. When I pull away, I can't help but smile at the curious look stamped on his face. Thank you for everything, if I made a list, it would be too long. Saying everything' is such a lazy approach, but it'll work for now.
Well, ah... the gray light is leaking in the room at a fast enough pace that I can see the red of his eyes, as well as the darkening of his cheeks, I haven't really done anything.
Haven't you? He blinks at this and I can't help but giggle, tucking back a lock of hair with my left hand. I'm happy.
Silly, right? At a time like this...
He leans in closer, our shoulders now touching. Even now?
Especially now, a strange thing to say now, but it feels right.
Mimicking my earlier action, he brings our hands up to his face, his lips soft against the back of my hand. Reis, you're really strange, you know that? But right now, I feel the same way you do.
I tilt my head. Didn't he just call himself strange by association?
Yes, really, he grins momentarily, but his somber outlook soon takes over the expression on his face, shouldn't we be taking this more seriously? As much as I want to, we still can't take his threat lightly.
I know. That's why it's even more important, before... how do I say this? Who knows what the future will hold... before whatever happens...happens.
I'm not going to keep making the same mistakes over and over. Haven't I gone this far already?
He nods at this, a look of understanding blossoming on his face. That's a good point, he simply says, lowering our entwined hands from between our faces and reaching out and cupping my face in his unoccupied hand, I'm going to promise you this, though: I'll do whatever it takes for us to stay together.
...
So, he'll take all the burden...then, what's left for me to do?
That makes me feel as if...as if I were the true burden.
I don't like that, ah, that's too blunt... I appreciate the sentiment, but it makes me feel useless...I really resent it when you tell me not to do something, or that you'll take care of it... I'm groping for phrases, for the exact feelings I feel, but I don't think we can really be reconciled on this issue.
It's practically impossible to change someone's beliefs by mere words, isn't it?
Beowulf doesn't say anything, though he actually looks more thoughtful than anything else. After a moment he sighs and starts stroking his thumb over my cheekbone. I think he's trying to soften me up for whatever he's going to say next. I have a feeling, he says slowly, strangely looking away from my face, that we'll be fighting each other over that issue for the rest of our lives.
Well...hm. I whisper.
It's not really a matter of one of us not understanding the other, I don't think. He's fully aware that I don't like it, and I'm fully aware that he won't stop just because I don't like it. In fact, I'd like to think that we've come to a sort of understanding because of it.
Of course, we'll probably annoy each other for the rest of our lives over that one issue, but it could be worse.
Our eyes happen to meet and slowly, oh so slowly, we begin to smile.
--knoknoknok--
A jolt crashes through me at the knocking at my door. No one ever comes here, so why...who...
No. It isn't worth the energy to fool myself into asking those sort of questions.
This...this isn't going to turn out anywhere approaching well', so soon after yesterday...
Beowulf pulls away from me, disentangling himself from the blanket and heading towards the door. Silently I follow after him, dread rising in my chest. We stand next to each other, right in front of the door.
Maybe...
--knoknoknok--
...I guess not.
After a long, silent glance at each other, he reaches for the doorknob. It twists easily, and with a creaking that exacerbates the nervous twists and turns inside my stomach, the door is easily pulled free from its holding position.
And there is Buremonda.
For a long, uncomfortable moment, we all stare forward. I don't know how Beowulf feels, but I feel vastly disturbed when Buremonda blankly lays his light blue eyes on me, seemingly frozen until he focuses on Beowulf. That's when the dark red splotches on his face--from the cold weather, I assume--darken even further, and something like a dark fury trembles within his light eyes.
If Buremonda looked like an angel before, then for sure he's regained his humanity.
What are you doing here, he enunciates slowly, hands balled up into fists at his sides, in the white mage corridor, inside an inhabited room, at half past six in the morning?
That is...very detailed. I've never seen him angry, and so it really...it's really startling. Not scary, though, not at all.
--I told you to wait, didn't I?--
I think his love is scarier than his anger.
I'm visiting my fiancé, Beowulf answers, his tone calm, what are you doing here at this time in the morning?
For a second, Buremonda glances at me, his eyes softening. I freeze, gritting my teeth behind thinned lips, and his attention goes back to Beowulf. I don't see why I should have to answer to you, the words are harsh to my ears, but I resist covering them up.
It's hard not to.
Beside me, Beowulf shifts slightly. Of course not, I don't know how he can keep that calm tone when Buremonda is so very close to spitting invectives at him, but it's admirable, but I'm sure Reis would like to know, wouldn't you, love?
I start nodding, but just as I open my mouth to verbally agree, Buremonda's glare turns into something more vicious...which is really surprising. Ah, I shouldn't be making light of this... Don't be so familiar with her!
It's a little late for that, Beowulf mutters, and by the black look now dominating Buremonda's face, I can see that I wasn't the only one who heard that.
I would also like to know what you're doing here, Priest Buremonda, I suggest, trying vainly to diffuse the situation. I don't know what he could do if he was sufficiently angry enough--and really, it looks like he's passed that threshold a while ago--but even though Beowulf is capable of fending for himself...it's probably best to keep the situation from heading that way.
Buremonda takes several deep breaths before looking at me. They seemed to have worked, as his color is returning. I only wished to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had worried extensively over how you felt, and I was willing to see if there was some way you could stay here... he glares at Beowulf for a brief moment before returning his attention to me, but I see now that there is no other way to protect you than to send you back.
You really don't know her at all, do you? The incredulous tone in Beowulf's voice is evident.
Excuse me? Blue eyes slide from focusing on me to giving Beowulf a dark look. Contrary to the beliefs of knights such as yourself, knowing' someone does not just refer to the physical connotation of the word.
You know...that's really irritating me. Perhaps you shouldn't talk about things that you don't know about, Priest Buremonda.
He looks at me, and for a second I wish I could take back my last words. It's just...those eyes...they're like delicate azure glass, except...smashed onto the ground, the shards littering the area and more than willing to pierce anyone foolish enough to not watch their step.
Is that my fault...or was that something I've never noticed until now?
Re...Miss Dular, I know that my actions were reprehensible, but please... he reaches out toward me--
--I told you to wait, didn't I?--
No.
--I'm sorry to do this, but I could not think of another way to stop you--
Stay away...
--Reis, I truly love you--
I jerk back, wanting, needing to get away there's a hand on my back whose hand is it breathe...breathe...calm down. Everything's fine. I'm not there. Everything's fine. Beowulf's with me.
Everything's fine.
I look up at Beowulf, trying not to lean against his hand too much...it wouldn't do to prove Buremonda's words right, after all. Beowulf is...that is...
I've never seen him so angry before.
It isn't just the expression on his face, or his bearing, or anything like that. His face is drawn up more tightly than usual, and he's aiming a particularly painful-looking glare at Buremonda. But it isn't just that. The Beowulf I know is a predominately cheerful and confident person. Of course, that's not to say that he doesn't have his own pain, those moments where I feel like I'm staring at a different person entirely. But...he's really a person I can admire.
He really looks...feels different right now.
Even Buremonda seems taken aback...or it could've just been a delayed look from my...my trying to get away from him. He keeps glancing back and forth between us, his dominant expression now almost unreadable. Though, in his eyes...in his eyes, the edges of some unknown fear are visible.
Is it bad that I'm enjoying that?
You know, we were talking before you decided to interrupt, Beowulf starts in an odd tone. It's odd because...it's slightly cheerful, you see, all I wanted to do before was just to stay with Reis. But now, I think it's better to just get her away from you.
...Not that I don't appreciate it, but...this is sudden.
You can't do that! Buremonda exclaims, more shocked than angry. She has nothing to do with you! If you even dare take her away from this church, I will see to it that you will be charged for every transgression you have committed upon her, upon the Church as a whole!
Beowulf doesn't reply quickly, and I look up at him, worried that...maybe we've gone over our heads here. As much as I'd like to think it possible, we can't go up against the Church. And Buremonda is so eager to hurt Beowulf...
No. No matter what happens...
A small twitch of Beowulf's lips makes them form into something like a smile. After you, Buremonda.
It's silent now. The air feels thick with tension, so thick and suppressing that it feels useless to even try to talk. Why bother?
We're all trapped anyway, and none of us will pry ourselves out of these wholly negative feelings.
You will not have her.
Excuse me. I'm not a possession.
You're just being used. Please, listen--
'Used'? For what?
You know what, you lecherous--
I'm not a pervert, either.
And you don't try very hard to deny it, I see.
I've never needed to prove or deny anything to you.
Ah, the very same way those like you use, claiming that they are above authority.
You're not behind a pulpit. Or do you just claim more power there? Do you quiet your congregation by announcing that you'll smite all those that do not listen to your word?
How dare you--
Just leave, please.
It doesn't mean that I take any pleasure from it. It's all so tiring.
It's all so disgusting.
Buremonda takes one look at my face and stalks off, muttering about ending whatever foolish plan that wicked knight' has. I don't care. I'm sick of him right now. I'm sick of the horrible words he drags with him, the fear he coaxes in me, I can't...
I'm sick of it all.
Do you want me to leave you alone too? Beowulf asks, turning towards me. Slowly exhaling, I simply shake my head. With that anger, being caught in the loop of other people's anger, I can't help but feel exhausted. Not even a good exhaustion, either...I feel like dropping and folding my full height into a crumpled little ball. That'd be safe right now.
It's so tiresome, being a human and being crushed by these heavy feelings.
Reis...I've changed my mind about the goal, he continues, walking over to the bed and sitting on it, leaning forward with his forearms along his thighs, I have a new plan.
I nod. Right now, it's all I can do.
It's sooner than we planned, but do you want to get married the day after tomorrow? I glance at him, unable to bring up a single reason for or against this idea. Do you?
it's hard, but I manage to take a few steps towards him, why so soon?
He smiles. It looks a bit withered. Because I love you?
I stare at him dully.
Right, right, just trying to lighten the mood... he sighs, because as soon as we get married, you lose your ward' status and Buremonda won't be able to do anything to you.
I look away. He would never perform the ceremony, though.
And that's why we're be going to Zaland to get married, love, his smile looks a bit more lively now, and I can't help but feel a little better.
But...it's sudden. That's not bad at all, but... When did you think of this idea?
He looks at me, and everything seems to slow down. There's a troubled expression creasing his normally youthful face, eyes dark and deep and seeped in worry. That's the sad part, actually.
I'm used to that look.
I'm still, even as he reaches out and grasps my hands in his, thumbs roaming up and down the backs of my hands. Reis, what exactly did Buremonda do to you?
--Reis, stop--
It seems like such a mundane little thing when logically thought out. He stopped me with magic, touched me and said he loved me. That's all.
But to be completely at someone else's mercy, unable to move but fully able to feel as unseen hands touch, as a voice floats from behind and there is no way to turn around and connect those words with a person, no way at all...
There is nothing I can do. I can't break free from those hands, that voice...
I can't undo these memories.
That's the worst part. That's the absolute worst part. Even if Beowulf says comforting words, even if Buremonda was brought to justice...I still have the experience stamped onto my very being.
It's too late.
It's okay, it's alright, you don't have to tell me anything... these words are being whispered into my ear, accentuated with the pleasantly empty feeling of fingers stroking through my hair. Oh, I see, I'm on his lap. Strange, I don't know how I got here. I must've been
trapped
thinking too hard. Talking in my mind', as Beowulf would put it.
I pull away slightly, just enough so that I can look at his face instead of talking to his chest. It's fine. Sorry, I... what? I don't even know what I'm saying right now, I just don't want to worry him like I usually do, I'm sorry.
Ah, I'm familiar with that new look on his face too. He's very not convinced. Are you sure you're fine? He...ah, he didn't hurt you too much, did he?
What...what is he getting at? I'm physically fine, I clarify, trying to puzzle my way through whatever he's talking about.
He relaxes at this, though now there's a flicker of confusion in his eyes. That's good, the words are wrapped in a cautious tone, you've just been acting strangely, and I...well, I'd really feel better if you stayed in Zaland for awhile. It's not far away enough from him, but it'll do.
What's in Zaland that would help? I'm confused. I mean, Buremonda can go to Zaland just as easily as we can.
I'm thinking of asking Head Diplomat Koizumi to let you stay at his house while I take care of some things here, oh, that would be Miss Chieko's father, right? But...why? At my questioning gaze, he smiles a little and continues stroking my hair, I'm not going to take any chances with Buremonda's sphere of influence, even if you won't be a ward of the Church after the wedding. I'm sure the Church would prefer not to go so far as to disrupt their relationship with the Eastern Lands for the sake of one employee.
I suppose so, but...this is starting to sound a little messy. How do you know that...Head Diplomat Koizumi will agree?
Because the people of the Eastern Lands could teach Ivalice a thing or three about the concept of honor, is that really an answer? I'm sure that's true, but... I've helped him a lot throughout the years, and not just with Miss Koizumi's arrival. I'd like to think that he'd definitely agree, if not out of friendship, then because of some level of respect.
That's...I see. What will you be doing while I'm in Zaland?
He smiles. For some reason, I don't like that. I'm going to wait until the cardinal arrives, then I'm going to quit.
...What? ...Why would you do that?
Because he's my superior, so I have to send my request to him, after one look at my face, his own loses the good humor of earlier, I don't like certain aspects of my job, and once he returns, I'll have to go back to performing them again.
I shift on his lap, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.
--I can't tell you about this--
But I'm so close to finding out.
Beowulf...I know you don't want me to ask, I start in a soft tone of voice, but it really worries me.
He shakes his head. Reis, I'd rather not get into this.
Ignorance is bliss' is usually a correct saying, I know. I really understand that. But it's not fair...it's really not fair for only him to suffer in silence.
Ignorance may be bliss, but it hurts more to not know.
Gently, I smile. I want to share your burden.
Please, let's suffer together. At least then...neither of us would be alone.
A Temple Knight protects the Church by killing heretics, he says suddenly, startling me slightly at this bold admission. Well, this is something I already knew.
--It's not so bad now, since I'm not being sent to hunt down heretics while Examiner Draclau is out in the war--
I remember you telling me that, is there something I'm not getting here? you also said you didn't like the fact that you had to kill people because they held different ideologies.
He sighs at this. My first victim was a sixty-two-year-old man. His name was Tellah Belane, and he was a powerful mage who lived in Warjilis, that name...would he be related to the songstress Miss Belane? Probably...she was from Warjilis... he claimed that there was a race of people on the moon who were superior to humans, and that one could travel to the moon via a creature called a whale'. He was not announcing this at the town square or on the docks, he would only tell these stories once sufficiently drunk.
The first night I arrived in Warjilis, he was waiting for me. The dossiers really underestimated his magic, so I escaped. The next night, I arrived at his home and observed that he was asleep, then I drained him of his life energy. He may have been powerful, but he was still old, so it only took two tries. To this day, everyone believes that he died of old age, he looks away from me, his eyes narrowing, it was a successful mission. Since then, I've consistently maintained a record of success, I can only stare back as his gaze meets mine, his eyes redder than I've ever remembered them to be, now, do you really want to share the burden that I have to live with? Do... he hesitates, as if he were thinking or remembering something, do you think I'm a good person now?
I didn't realize it was...quite like that. I thought the people he went after were...well, I never really thought about it. Anything but innocents, at least. What sort of well-established religion would advocate the murder of elderly men, after all?
I suppose I really am naive.
Death is such an easy thing to talk about in Ivalice. Of course it is. People die every day, every minute, from war and famine and the Black Plague and being an unprepared traveler and wandering into a monster or bandit's den. There are so many ways to die, it's a wonder that the cited life expectancy is at sixty. Why do we press on with our lives, if there is only death waiting for us in the end?
--Aren't you a pretty girl?--
Death itself isn't so bad. It's the anxiety, the knowledge that one day we will not exist...that's what really hurts. Those who are saved...what are they really saved from? Temporary reprieves are just that.
But to die because you thought of something that is considered different' ...that's horrible. It's completely unnecessary. And to die by another's hand, someone who is just carrying out their orders because of your own thoughts...it's disgusting!
With all that, could anyone truly care about the assassin's own feelings?
It's one of the ultimate burdens in life to have the experience of killing something. As a hunter, all I can do is make sure that the monster's end is as swift as possible. I really respect monsters, even moreso now that I am one. But if I had the opportunity...I would hunt again. It's a cold comfort, but it's probably better to die quickly at the hand of someone who truly cares, rather than sloppily from someone who views lives as merchandise, something to use and sell as one wishes.
--Hm...but you know, animals and humans are different--
Beowulf may believe an animal--a less common term--has less worth than a human, but since I don't, I can relate to him.
I murmur, I definitely want to. Beowulf, you're a wonderful person.
He really doesn't have any sort of a hunter's feelings on the subject of killing. Because of this, I think it's just better that I listen instead of relating my own feelings.
I don't think any warrior on the battlefield could ever understand.
Some other time, then... he says slowly, looking rather confused. I wonder...did he think that I would be unreasonable and wouldn't try to understand?
It's times like these that I can't help but like myself more than the common mindset.
I nod. I'll be waiting.
He stares at me a moment longer before he engulfs me in a tight hug. I thought you'd hate me, I hear him mutter into my hair, why don't you?
Because you're hurting, too, I press harder into him, wrapping my arms around him, trying to show him how much I truly understand, after you quit, let's go to Lesalia. I'm sure you'd like to return home, right?
Yeah...that'd be nice. Sis would love to meet you... he pulls away, loosening one arm in order to touch my face, slightly tugging on the lock of hair to the left of it, Lionel's more of your home, though. Are you sure you're fine with leaving?
Really, it doesn't matter to me. Ivalice is my home. Traveling sounds like fun, actually.
Hm, alright then, he leans in, placing a quick kiss on my lips, thank you.
We sit like this for a long time, holding each other, indulging in small kisses with no promise of going further. It's sort of like when we were first dating, when each kiss was individual and precious. Those were simpler times. I was often confused and anxious, but I was still enjoying myself. Since then, we've done so much more, and now we face so much more. The times aren't quite so simple anymore.
But it's still so much fun to hold each other and act like the situation hasn't changed at all.
...Reis, I've got to go, Beowulf says after a long, lingering kiss. I sigh and he chuckles, don't do that, I don't want to leave either. But, I still have to rearrange the schedules to cover my absence, secure two chocobos for tomorrow, get supplies, buy rings, finish some paperwork... I stare at him until he notices,
I tilt my head. 'Buy rings'?
Wedding rings, he clarifies. At least, I'm sure that would be a clarification for someone who actually understands more of Ivalice's wedding rituals than I, think of it as proof of marriage.
Oh. I see. How strange. Alright then, easily, I slide off of his lap and stand beside him, I'll see you tomorrow morning, then.
He nods as he stands. Early tomorrow morning. I'd like it if you didn't leave this room until then, just in case... he shrugs, just in case Buremonda tries something again.
Hn. Would he really...? I suppose there's no telling what a person's capable of.
leaning over, he kisses my forehead, I'll see you tomorrow, he smiles, a classic Beowulf smile, then he walks towards the door and leaves, taking care not to slam the door after his exit. I sit down. Hm, I'm tired. I lay down on the bed, closing my eyes afterward.
There are so many different circumstances, aren't there? And they keep crossing each other, like Head Diplomat Koizumi will find out in a couple of days. I really hope he's as honorable as Beowulf makes him out to be.
It's strange how different we all are. How a former hunter can sympathize with a reluctant assassin because of a...cultural understanding, and yet the two will come at odds when it comes to other things. It's strange, but it's also good that I can share an experience with him because of my background. I'm happy about that.
Experiences are funny things, I think. Some of them can help, others can hinder. And some...
--I told you to wait, didn't I?--
Everybody carries with them their own experiences, their own viewpoints. A relationship is all about reconciling all those past experiences and viewpoints while creating new ones with another person. That's the really great thing about being a human, since there's potentially more types of people to share oneself with. All those sides, all the viewpoints...they're all so interesting. I'd like to hear as many as possible in my life. I'd like to understand as many of them as possible.
--I just wanted you to listen to me, to understand me...--
There are so many sides, but there's no way I could understand them all.
-End to chapter 28-
I had the opportunity to see the Final Fantasy: Dear Friends concert in LA yesterday (5/10). If it weren't for that concert, I wouldn't have had the inspiration to finish this chapter in time. Out of all the art forms available, I love music the most. Even if I'm a writer, I don't truly think that the written word can reach the heights that music is capable of. Someday, I'd like the quality of my writing to reach, to become a perfectly attuned melody that can soar effortlessly into the hearts and minds of people. What an honor that'd be...Incidentally, if you want to know what songs were performed, please check my bio.
As far as this chapter goes, it's a chapter. A plan...but will it work? (...Well...)
-That title is weird. Sympathetique' is inspired by the Persona 2: EP song, Pathetique No. 5'...I think that's what it's called. Well, it's one of the Velvet Room songs. Fenio' is the Japanese nickname for Phoenix no O', or Phoenix Down'. In the Japanese version of FFT, one of the generic characters (Feldman) notes this. Thanks to the Generic Quotes FAQ for this knowledge!
-I apologize for the formatting of this chapter. That QuickEdit thing seems to not recognize more than one usage of the enter key at a time...
Reviewers!
Ah, MavGunloc...hm, hm, how to respond. I actually hadn't thought much of the beginning scene with Beowulf and Reis, but I'm really glad that it's accurate as far as male/female portrayals. And when I saw what you'd written as far as Verden goes...I was so happy! I honestly worried over how people would find his characterization in that chapter. I really was hoping that no one would say that he was just' this or that. Ah, vindication is wonderful...anyway, let's see what happens to these three together, shall we?
Yo, Luna. Hm, you really think so about Verden? Of course I have my own opinion, but do you think that he may, just a little, love the real' Reis?
Hey, congrats. Hope you did really well on the SATs, and finals...argh, that starts next week. Study, study...
I'm not sure if it's an ability to write these chapters, or a curse. It's not entirely my idea when and how to end a chapter, that's what the story tells (bothers) me into doing. It's not really patience' so much as how you feel', I think.
Hey, The Burning Misery...oh, so that's what that' means? Heh, I don't know how people keep erasing their reviews with the dictionary function.
Yep, my little story's absorbed over a hundred reviews. Did you know that this is only the fourth story to do so in this section? I honestly didn't think so many people would ever like this story enough to spend some time writing about it, but I'm grateful to all of them.
What Beowulf is hiding...? I didn't write his interlude(s) for my health, y'know. =P As for Verden...seems like everyone thinks he's creepy/misguided-delusional. I'm happy.
First-person stories are...well, I don't think that they're difficult to write. But, they're difficult to read sometimes. I guess it depends how immersed' in the character the writer is. But yes, there can be lots of balance problems that just don't show up in third-person.
Meh, I feel sad about WHW ending, but I can't wait to start something new as well. At least this story is succeeding past all my wildest expectations.
Sorry, I hated being young' years ago. Now, I'm not so sure I like the idea of being old' either.
Hi, Toastyann! I'm happy to receive one of your longer reviews, those are always enjoyable to read!
Ah, Buremonda. I don't really know if my approach of focusing more on Reis and Beowulf, instead of the love triangle as a whole, was a good idea, but it would've been the only way I could've kept my sanity. With this, maybe Buremonda was far more developed than I first thought...but yeah, I really didn't want to stereotype him as much as possible. That would be boring.
I...write like I'm older? Um...thank you? I don't know about having a mature slant to my writing, but I do appreciate the compliment.
I'm sorry that the pacing bothered you. However, a fast-paced first-person narrative is...my skill doesn't extend that far. Seems like it would trip over itself. But you're right, I am a psychology major--one who at one time was going to become a psychologist--and I love just fully analyzing people. People are just so interesting.
Ah, chapter twenty-one. I've been wanting to redo that chapter for a long time now...my heart just wasn't in it.
Oh, I've already got plans for my next few stories in the FFT section. Agrias really doesn't interest me, sorry. But there are plenty of Agrias stories, so I'm sure you have plenty of reading material! Since you suggested it, I read the first chapter of that story...it's very well written, but I'm not really interested. But please don't feel offended, I'll read anything you suggest.
Quex (that's an interesting name...), I'm very happy to hear/read that! When did you start reading, if you don't mind me asking? I'm sorry it's ending too, and please don't worry about reviewing or not reviewing. As long as there are people reading and enjoying the story, I'm happy.
Mavina, you've got the worst luck in reviewing EVAR. Doesn't seem like I'll get two reviews, but if it happens I'll erase one. Hm, horrid death...let's see what I can come up with.
FFT screwed everybody's lives up. I guess that's life...
Thank you for reading/reviewing! Well, let's keep walking together until we reach the end!
Chapter 29: Fate: No, I don't believe this is going too far for her. For Reis...this is the only thing I can do for her.