This chapter took a long time to write, it took a lot of thinking on my
part, and I hope I did Agrias's character right, because I kept thinking
more and more about how strange she sounded. Often times, people tell me
that her character is hard to write, because of how little impact she does
in the game after the third chapter really, but in my game, it was always
like she was there, doing something, having a part, and I tried to
incorporate that into the story. Thanks again for all the reviews, as of
me writing this, I have a nice round 25, very kewl. One thing that was
driving me absolutely insane was the dumb title of the story, (After
reading through icy brian's for ideas, it came to me how plain and boring
it is) so I've renamed the story Shattering.
Up down, left right. Thrust, parry, swing and stab. The Chaos Blade spins in my hands, its deadly black edge glinting in the dusk light. The same pattern, I've been doing it for the last 4 hours atop here, watching, and fighting.
What am I fighting? My own demons I suppose, they leap and strike, but I keep up the dance. Never falter, never misstep, how long can I do this? Who comes to save me? Where is my knight in shining armor? He doesn't exist, or he's lying on his death bed somewhere in the city behind me, he's somewhere lost to me. I jamb the Chaos Blade deeply into the earth at my feet, point down, popping the buckles of the Maxmillion from my body I let it fall down on a nearby rocky outcropping, then taking up the sword again, I start anew.
Chop, block, twist and lunge. Keep the movements going ever faster. I take off the legplates next, after a half hour, leaving my leather leggings and loose cloth shirt on, protection against the bitter wind. A riveting cleave, a spin and a weak punch. But still my mind wanders off. I can't focus on the moves. A rising slash, a balanced stance before lunging into another set of moves, but still, they feel false.
What am I doing here? I should be doing something, anything but watching life pass by. There's nothing for me here anymore, is that my answer? The people whose lives I protect, but they can protect themselves now. The world doesn't need a hero anymore. But Ramza's voice calls out to me again, it echoes, again, and again. I can't shake loose the feeling, sinking into my soul, past the sweat, the scars and the blood. "I love you, Agrias."
He was delirious my mind tells me. He could've said that about anyone, Meliadoul, Alma, any of the others. Rafa who is so much prettier, everyone who is so much smarter, all I know is to fight, nothing more, nothing less. "I love you, Agrias." Stop whispering to me, I don't want to hear it. He would waste his life with me, he could go back now, Delita would pardon him, he could be a noble again. I'm just a knight without a cause.
The tears are running down my face now, they come so much more easily with no one watching, but even in the shadows of myself, I can't escape who I am. I had that choice once, long ago, I could've been a noble woman, but now I'm a fighter. "I love you, Agrias." No. It's not right. I don't deserve the son of Balbanes. He deserves someone better, a fine, soft lady. Someone not scarred by war.
"Lightning Stab." The words roll of my tongue, and before I know what I'm doing, a small frail plant next to me explodes as my power strikes it. The flames lick hungrily at the dry grasses, and I hurriedly stomp them out. Look at that. How easily I can kill something that was once so fragile and beautiful. "There's no place for me now." My own mind whispers the truths, but they hurt my heart so.
Is this what I'm supposed to do? Is that what they mean that you have to release the one you love, to set them free? I swing again, my rage, my frustration channeled into the blow, but it does nothing, nothing to strike, nothing to reach out and hit. What must this be like? This is the life of a soldier, to be used and discarded when the peace comes, but if it means that no one will die anymore, then so be it. This is the life I should lead. Hurt more people? I cannot. I lived my life protecting people, perhaps the greatest gift I could give them yet would be to leave.
Spin and strike, again and again. The sun has set now. Only the glint of my sword and of the moon above around me. Alone in the darkness. This is my life, playing from behind the shadows, where the people cannot see, where they don't know the evil that lurks behind that we fight. But now, history will not remember us, for to it, we did not exist. What purpose do I still have?
My blade stops suddenly, halted by a sturdy oak tree. Oaks. That's me. A rigid protector, isn't that right? Now there is nothing to protect, I may as well be cut down for furniture. Isn't that right? Is that how history remembers the saviors? Who else then, are the saviors that we don't remember? With a burst of icy rage, I run my sword straight through the tree, watching it tumble to the ground with a crash, just like that, it dies. I'm panting suddenly, my chest heaves and the sweat runs down my braids.
I don't have a place here. It's time to go. I've known it all along, and though my heart is fit to break, my mind is clear.
I'm suddenly buckling back on the legplates, throwing the armor in a saddlebag atop the Chocobo, its time to go. The sword in its sheath I look around the little cliff. Involuntarily, I can't help but walk to the edge, staring down at the long fall below. Looking around, I spot a handful of reeds and a small new orchid growing next to the rock, against insurmountable odds. Cupping the frail orchid in my hands, I pull lightly, its blue, and white, polished and beautiful in the moonlight. Taking the reeds in my other hand I produce a short knife, working quietly at something I can't quite remember how to do, but my fingers, they work themselves.
An hour later, or maybe a day, who can tell, I have a small reed flute in my hands, and the prettiest orchid in the world. Laying the orchid down on the cliff, I let it sit there, heavy and cold, like I am. It is little beacon in a hard world, a touch of soft beauty against the jaggedness of life.
I turn back towards the cliff, staring down, trying to perceive the inky blackness. Somewhere, deep down there. Raising the reed to my lips, I blow a single clear note across the quiet night sky. A clear full moon watches me, as I make my exit.
Am I real? Am I a dream?
Am I borrowed? Am I blue?
Is it just the dust of leaving you settling?
Am I fair? Am I strong?
Am I there? Do I belong?
Is it only skin I touch
when I reach for you?
Oh, the leaves they fall,
they go so far sometimes.
Do I blame the wind
or the tree for letting you go?
Or do I wave goodbye, setting?
Do I stay? Do I fight?
Is it wrong and nothing's right?
Or is it just the closet light
I've offered you?
Oh the leaves they fall,
they go so far sometimes.
Do I blame the wind
or the tree that let you go?
Or do I wave goodbye, settling?
So many times I needed
you to be strong to me.
But you bend beneath
the slightest breeze.
You have no leaves,
no leaves, no leaves...
Settling.
Am I fair? Am I strong?
Do I stay? Do I fight?
Is it just the closet light?
Is it only skin I touch,
or is it just the dust settling?
--*--*--
The clear reed blows through the darkness. A sound I haven't heard in a long time. Who calls me, who blows that sweet secret music of my childhood? It drags me up, lifts me towards the surface, like breaking the water of swimming upwards to the crest of the beautiful blue waves on the ocean.
Suddenly I'm awake, a spilling, almost violent action as I rise, my blue eyes unseeing and seeing all at once, everything and anything, all and nothing. And But one word escapes my parched lips.
"Agrias."
Woooot, that chapter is done. Everyone loves yes? Well if you hated it I won't hold it against you, I think I really set a lot of people on edge in this chapter, but its by no means what I really wanted, I think, I wanted this to be the longest chapter, but somehow it came out to be the shortest. The song is Settling by Tara MacLean, download it, I really recommend it.
Thanks for all the reviews everyone, it is much appreciated and it really helps a struggling author on, I probably wouldn't have gotten here, to the fourth chapter without support from friends and lots of others. But the ball doesn't stop rolling here, we just keep going, more chapters to come soon.
Up down, left right. Thrust, parry, swing and stab. The Chaos Blade spins in my hands, its deadly black edge glinting in the dusk light. The same pattern, I've been doing it for the last 4 hours atop here, watching, and fighting.
What am I fighting? My own demons I suppose, they leap and strike, but I keep up the dance. Never falter, never misstep, how long can I do this? Who comes to save me? Where is my knight in shining armor? He doesn't exist, or he's lying on his death bed somewhere in the city behind me, he's somewhere lost to me. I jamb the Chaos Blade deeply into the earth at my feet, point down, popping the buckles of the Maxmillion from my body I let it fall down on a nearby rocky outcropping, then taking up the sword again, I start anew.
Chop, block, twist and lunge. Keep the movements going ever faster. I take off the legplates next, after a half hour, leaving my leather leggings and loose cloth shirt on, protection against the bitter wind. A riveting cleave, a spin and a weak punch. But still my mind wanders off. I can't focus on the moves. A rising slash, a balanced stance before lunging into another set of moves, but still, they feel false.
What am I doing here? I should be doing something, anything but watching life pass by. There's nothing for me here anymore, is that my answer? The people whose lives I protect, but they can protect themselves now. The world doesn't need a hero anymore. But Ramza's voice calls out to me again, it echoes, again, and again. I can't shake loose the feeling, sinking into my soul, past the sweat, the scars and the blood. "I love you, Agrias."
He was delirious my mind tells me. He could've said that about anyone, Meliadoul, Alma, any of the others. Rafa who is so much prettier, everyone who is so much smarter, all I know is to fight, nothing more, nothing less. "I love you, Agrias." Stop whispering to me, I don't want to hear it. He would waste his life with me, he could go back now, Delita would pardon him, he could be a noble again. I'm just a knight without a cause.
The tears are running down my face now, they come so much more easily with no one watching, but even in the shadows of myself, I can't escape who I am. I had that choice once, long ago, I could've been a noble woman, but now I'm a fighter. "I love you, Agrias." No. It's not right. I don't deserve the son of Balbanes. He deserves someone better, a fine, soft lady. Someone not scarred by war.
"Lightning Stab." The words roll of my tongue, and before I know what I'm doing, a small frail plant next to me explodes as my power strikes it. The flames lick hungrily at the dry grasses, and I hurriedly stomp them out. Look at that. How easily I can kill something that was once so fragile and beautiful. "There's no place for me now." My own mind whispers the truths, but they hurt my heart so.
Is this what I'm supposed to do? Is that what they mean that you have to release the one you love, to set them free? I swing again, my rage, my frustration channeled into the blow, but it does nothing, nothing to strike, nothing to reach out and hit. What must this be like? This is the life of a soldier, to be used and discarded when the peace comes, but if it means that no one will die anymore, then so be it. This is the life I should lead. Hurt more people? I cannot. I lived my life protecting people, perhaps the greatest gift I could give them yet would be to leave.
Spin and strike, again and again. The sun has set now. Only the glint of my sword and of the moon above around me. Alone in the darkness. This is my life, playing from behind the shadows, where the people cannot see, where they don't know the evil that lurks behind that we fight. But now, history will not remember us, for to it, we did not exist. What purpose do I still have?
My blade stops suddenly, halted by a sturdy oak tree. Oaks. That's me. A rigid protector, isn't that right? Now there is nothing to protect, I may as well be cut down for furniture. Isn't that right? Is that how history remembers the saviors? Who else then, are the saviors that we don't remember? With a burst of icy rage, I run my sword straight through the tree, watching it tumble to the ground with a crash, just like that, it dies. I'm panting suddenly, my chest heaves and the sweat runs down my braids.
I don't have a place here. It's time to go. I've known it all along, and though my heart is fit to break, my mind is clear.
I'm suddenly buckling back on the legplates, throwing the armor in a saddlebag atop the Chocobo, its time to go. The sword in its sheath I look around the little cliff. Involuntarily, I can't help but walk to the edge, staring down at the long fall below. Looking around, I spot a handful of reeds and a small new orchid growing next to the rock, against insurmountable odds. Cupping the frail orchid in my hands, I pull lightly, its blue, and white, polished and beautiful in the moonlight. Taking the reeds in my other hand I produce a short knife, working quietly at something I can't quite remember how to do, but my fingers, they work themselves.
An hour later, or maybe a day, who can tell, I have a small reed flute in my hands, and the prettiest orchid in the world. Laying the orchid down on the cliff, I let it sit there, heavy and cold, like I am. It is little beacon in a hard world, a touch of soft beauty against the jaggedness of life.
I turn back towards the cliff, staring down, trying to perceive the inky blackness. Somewhere, deep down there. Raising the reed to my lips, I blow a single clear note across the quiet night sky. A clear full moon watches me, as I make my exit.
Am I real? Am I a dream?
Am I borrowed? Am I blue?
Is it just the dust of leaving you settling?
Am I fair? Am I strong?
Am I there? Do I belong?
Is it only skin I touch
when I reach for you?
Oh, the leaves they fall,
they go so far sometimes.
Do I blame the wind
or the tree for letting you go?
Or do I wave goodbye, setting?
Do I stay? Do I fight?
Is it wrong and nothing's right?
Or is it just the closet light
I've offered you?
Oh the leaves they fall,
they go so far sometimes.
Do I blame the wind
or the tree that let you go?
Or do I wave goodbye, settling?
So many times I needed
you to be strong to me.
But you bend beneath
the slightest breeze.
You have no leaves,
no leaves, no leaves...
Settling.
Am I fair? Am I strong?
Do I stay? Do I fight?
Is it just the closet light?
Is it only skin I touch,
or is it just the dust settling?
--*--*--
The clear reed blows through the darkness. A sound I haven't heard in a long time. Who calls me, who blows that sweet secret music of my childhood? It drags me up, lifts me towards the surface, like breaking the water of swimming upwards to the crest of the beautiful blue waves on the ocean.
Suddenly I'm awake, a spilling, almost violent action as I rise, my blue eyes unseeing and seeing all at once, everything and anything, all and nothing. And But one word escapes my parched lips.
"Agrias."
Woooot, that chapter is done. Everyone loves yes? Well if you hated it I won't hold it against you, I think I really set a lot of people on edge in this chapter, but its by no means what I really wanted, I think, I wanted this to be the longest chapter, but somehow it came out to be the shortest. The song is Settling by Tara MacLean, download it, I really recommend it.
Thanks for all the reviews everyone, it is much appreciated and it really helps a struggling author on, I probably wouldn't have gotten here, to the fourth chapter without support from friends and lots of others. But the ball doesn't stop rolling here, we just keep going, more chapters to come soon.