Dearest Love,
Even in five years' worth of your passing, I still write letters to you. Though you will never get them, I know that you have seen them anyways.
We celebrated our daughter's birthday the day before. I do not think I have ever seen so many children in my lifetime! The Elder, or Leto, as I will always call him, you know how I have addressing my brother, had many games and other mockeries set up for them that involved the raising of their voices, and many a ball of lightning and fire to be tossed around aimlessly. Thank the crystals we had the party located OUTSIDE. I think that the carpets and stones wouldn't have been able to take it!
Even as I write, I am still thinking about that moment when Madelia brought out that cake. It was such a pretty white, bejeweled with candles shaped like chocobos, and figurines of tiny mages cloaked in red.. The moment that little Anna's face lit up, bathed in that light, I could of sworn I saw you standing next to her, Sakura, cheering her on, smiling at her in the same warm glow as you did... Before you...
If you did, I would have been fooled. In agreement, others have said Anna is a perfect copy of you, with only minor differences. She has your shade of strawberry-blonde, and the same shape of eyes as you, the color being blue in place to your emerald, of course. Though they additionally say that her face and mine match up, I cannot help but chuckle when I watch her get angered. The way she crosses her arms... How she scrunches up her face, and scowls... How she often bothers me until she gets that new doll from the toy maker... I daresay it reminds me of you!
Sin like, I think, I often wonder if Anna is you in disguise. There are many qualities I see in her that remind me of you. Personality might be a given. Her magic aptitude is that fashioned after myself, as is the rate she learns, but her proficiency with dancing clearly mirrors yours (no doubt that she will make a man happy someday with that. I still fear the day..). Even if it might be genetically imbued, it still leads me one step closer to wondering...
Wondering...
Fingers, skin on the start of wrinkling, slowly placed the yellow chocobo feather back in the bottle of ink, his eyes pouring over the intricate scratches of wording he had made on the parchment. To anyone else, it might've made sense to write to one's perished; such rituals were often included in the bereavement factor.
Tellah found himself mortified.
"Sakura has been dead for five years," he announced to himself, jumping to the sound of his voice. Fingers swooped down on the parchment, ripping it until it was no longer an identifiable source, save for a miniature hill on his desk. "She's not Anna, and she's never coming back. Idiot."
He turned, making no move to rise from the padded swivel chair, to look out the window. Sunlight, still bright in midmorning, was attempting to stream in through the white filmy curtains that adorned the office window. Lifting them back to allow the stream to pour on his face barely caught a smile on his face.
"Look at me," he muttered, blinking past the golden hue. "It's barely time for lunch, and I already want to go home. Though truthfully, I've been wanting to go home for the past five years, either to sleep, or to wonder if this is even home anymore."
Tellah adverted his gaze, blue eyes focusing on the ground below him. His office, a mere little hide-a-way spot as a professor of the Mysidian Academy, was on the eastern side of the House of Prayers. The morning light was a welcoming sight he had become adjusted to for over the last five years, even after the stormy nights of past.
It did, however, become quite a bother at times.
It didn't mean he wasn't grateful for the position, however. His brother, Leto, had graciously allowed him to keep his position as an Academy Red Mage professor after his wife's death. The unlimited support in raising Anna, who had been just two days' old when Sakura had passed on, had also come as a bonus.
In honesty, he knew the positions weren't just out of gratitude. Family was family, after all.
Rubbing a stinging eye, he watched the various activities below him. One half of the land plot had a group of students, each clad in different colored robes as pertained to their degree of magic, clustered around a mage dressed in gingham robes. It seemed she was talking animatedly, gesturing every so often to a couple of cages behind her. Another mage to her side stood with a ruby staff, his arms crossed, and slumped, giving the impression that he was bored to all hells.
"I don't see why you'd need that for a bunch of caged imps," the Red Mage sighed, shaking his head. "Or maybe it's for those little brats," he then reasoned, watching the assistant with the staff rush towards some of the students playing in a stream of water. They broke apart into different directions, each, apparently, laughing.
Shaking his head again, Tellah shifted gaze to the other side of the compound. Three well-muscled men (Monks, he remembered) were sitting on the mossy area in front of another group of students. By how silently, stone-like, all of them sat, he could've sworn they were asleep.
"Don't they get enough of that at home?" the mage grumbled. "I knew it was a waste of our funds to hire those Fabulians, especially seeing all they're doing is teaching the students how to be lazy!"
"Actually, they're meditating," offered a voice from the door. "It'll help them clear their minds when casting."
Tellah quickly snapped around. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, glaring at the form by the door. He had recognized the voice as that of Leto's, the Elder of Mysidia, and headmaster of the Academy. The slender, black-robed, ginger-haired man, whom often smiled for no reason whatsoever, made his assumptions assured. "In fact, how long have you been here? Didn't Mother ever teach you how to knock?"
The Elder held up his hands in mock defense, a grin breaking out across the cheery face. He usually found a reason to smile these days, even if it made his cynical brother mad. "I didn't think you'd mind. You were the one who said to come in at any time, remember?" he reminded the glowering mage, who sighed in defeat.
"Have a seat then," Tellah offered, nearly knocking over the bottle of ink with a gesture to the two seats lined in front of his desk.
"What were you writing?" the Elder asked, casting a lingering eye over the apparent pile of trash on the Red Mage's desk before taking the aforementioned chair. "Another letter?"
"That's on a need-to-know basis," Tellah huffed, hastily turning around to muse with the curtains, embarrassed. "And you don't need-to-know, obviously, so quit grinning like a Cheshire larvae," he added, quickly glancing over his shoulder to the perplexed man behind him.
Indeed, Leto was grinning. He had adjusted comfortably, slouched in the seat, his slender fingers braided in front of him. Ever since his wife's death, it was all too often that the Mysidian Governor played the role of 'White Mage therapist' with his older brother, though he would vehemently deny at the first sign.
Something told Leto, however, that such efforts would likely be wasted this day.
"I know you didn't come here for tea and cookies; it's too early in the day," Tellah noted, turning back to the black-robed man in front of him. "What is it that you desire? I am busy with trying to plan out the next day's lesson for the Advanced Red Mage class, you know."
Leto calmly placed a hand over his mouth to cover his increasing grin. The tops of Tellah's cheekbones were brushed lightly with blush as though his fire-and-smoke hair had decided to pass its color onto the mage. What remained humorous was the telltale glint behind his glasses, swimming innocently in dark-blue eyes: the kind that said 'Mess with me today, and you'll end up like the pile on the desk.'
Many times Leto had seen that look, and while he knew he wasn't afraid to execute it, he knew that his own brother wouldn't do such.
Or... Would he?
"The council members and myself were talking more on the proposal of trade relations with nations other than Baron," he began, his hand slowly slinking back to run its fingertips absently, back and forth along his ginger beard. "Not only would we be answering the demands our people have, we would bring trust and valuable allies for Mysidia alone."
"I could have told you that," Tellah replied. He had slumped forward to his desk, his cheek resting lazily against his fist, but he knew that his brother knew he had his full attention.
"We have decided to use the Academy as trading grounds," Leto continued, ignoring the snide remark. "We take their items; their civilians, soldiers, and family are entitled to a college of divine arts, either within Mysidia, or their homelands."
"And our compensation?" the Red Mage asked, innocently. "You will have a lot of pissed-off professors should they learn they aren't being paid extra for an increase in students that seem to be coming here Fab-free," he reminded, watching the Elder's face mould into a glare.
Leto sighed; Tellah had him beat. "Of course there will be an increase," he muttered, though he knew that his voice didn't sound too sure from the start.
"We have our first delegates coming in about a fortnight's time," he continued, also ignoring the cynical look that had erupted on Tellah's face. "His royal highness, Gilbert von Muir, and Queen Melody will be arriving by aircraft. I believe the crown prince will be attending as well."
"Damcyan?" the Red Mage merely mouthed. He didn't know whether to laugh, or be offended. The small monarchy was infamous for its history of minstrels, and alchemists that could neutralize most poisons, while its predecessor village, Kaipo, was well known for the luxury drinks and sandmoth silks that could prove to have significant trade value.
But, still... Damcyan?
"Yes, Damcyan," the Elder nodded, pleased that his brother had caught on quickly. "That's the problem."
Tellah then assumed that it was all right to grin mockingly. "Yes, those stupid bards and their smelly peasants. I wouldn't touch those non-magi wimps with a ten foot..."
He trailed off as the Elder's face tightened into a full glare.
"Exactly the problem, Tellah."
"If it hurts you that much, Leto, I'll stay away from when your 'expedition' comes around," Tellah retorted, instantly sitting up.
Leto relaxed, visage transforming into a frown. "Actually, you're not the problem I worry about. It's someone rather close to you that has the same attitude, though worse."
"Sakura does not have a problem!" he snapped, throwing his hand down on the desk. The odd look that had appeared on Leto's face made him wish he could retract his words.
"I'm talking about my niece, dear brother: Anna. Or have you forgotten that you do have a daughter?" the governor whispered, low and near threatening, a storm settling in the room between them. Over the past weeks - no, make that the past few years - it seemed as though Tellah was slipping further and further away from his responsibility, burying himself in whatever Red Mage work that had come up for him. Though he knew that Anna was well cared for, it angered Leto that Tellah could be so wrapped up in his own grief to the point of not caring.
The Red Mage's head shook, fingers gently yanking at his shoulder-length strands of hair. The once shocking mane of red was loosing its battle with pepper and salt. "What's wrong with Anna?" he dared to muster above a whisper. His gaze was focused on the lacquered dark mahogany of his desk, embarrassed once more.
"As far as I know, she's a healthy little mageling, that's too much like her father," Leto replied, pointedly. "Too much, I say."
"So you and everyone else in this Gaia-damnedcountry say," Tellah muttered. He could see his reflection in the shining mystique of the desk: a man with a shaggy beard, and a smile that seemed to sink lower than the sun. His crystal-hued spectacles were there, but the eyes behind them were hollowed out.
It was black. Black was for sorrow.
"Most little girls her age are content to playing tea party with their stuffed monsters; Anna loves playing fire party with the trashcans," Leto sighed, the hand that had been trailing the beard now at his temple, as though recollecting the memory. "The only positive thing that she has done in mimicking you is going into the Academy as a Red Order initiate, which is quite an accomplishment for a five year old, I'll admit."
"Most little girls have a mother as well," the mage grumbled, finally gaining the courage to glance back up at his brother. "And don't you dare tell me that I should marry again. I don't think Anna would like a mother," he sighed, though silently adding: Sakura would likely agree with you too, Leto.
The Mysidian Governor could feel his anger melting away at last, the storms simmering into aftermath. "At least you admit Anna has a problem with authority. Maybe now we can get something accomplished.
"As you know, Prince Edward is about three years Anna's senior," Leto continued when Tellah didn't interrupt. "With you knowing the lifestyle of the Damcyani, and the rambunctious attitude of your daughter, it is possible to say that he and Anna might clash. Then again, they may not. King Gilbert has passed on that the crown prince is often engaged in activities that see him alone. Anna does not seem to make friends that easily as well."
"We did have to invite those children ourselves," Tellah replied, running his hand within his beard. "Some parents we even had to pay for their child's time."
"If Anna would quit boasting about her father, maybe she would have more friends," the Elder replied, a small twinkle of knowing in his dark brown eyes. "Such admiration is fine, but she shouldn't exclude herself from activities that she doesn't deem worthy. Or have you been telling her that?"
"Of course not," Tellah replied, bristling. "If you want me to dress her up in her finest robes, comb her hair out, add a bow, and tell her to behave, or else, I'll do it. I know that's probably why you came in here anyways."
"Yes, brother," Leto said with a nod, slowly rising from his chair. "You should take some time off this week, and prepare as well. Go to Baron on the Child's morning; Smithton's, on the corner of the city's academy, is a fine place to trim your beard. I'll also alert Regina to make you some new robes - oh, for crystal's sake, Tellah; you've been wearing the same ones for the last five years! Don't give me that look."
"It all goes towards Anna, Leto," the Red Mage replied, also rising from his chair to see his brother to the door. "Every piece of gil goes into her tome-texts, her robes, and her well-being. I love her more than life itself."
Even -if- she isn't Sakura's extension.
"See that you do," Leto said. "And do pay more attention to her. The day when she grows into a charming young woman well endowed with spells, and some dashing man sweeps her off her feet, and into the crystal-lands, will come soon if only too quick. But do so in moderation. Should her father die as well, I think it might be the end of it all."
As Tellah shut the door behind the Mysidian Governor, and leaned against its defense, he stopped to consider himself. It seemed not too long ago he was thirty-nine, and going through the best years of his life. The previous ones had seen him through with powerful spells, and a name that was whispered amongst villagers and soldiers alike - though still was. His robes, an intermix of gold, red, and ivory - the marking of an advanced Red Mage - hadn't been ripped at the seams, and fit to fall into pieces of thread.
Now he was about to be forty-five, and in the worst shape of his life. His sight was becoming worse by the days, and he had to constantly review his old texts to remember the plethora of incantations behind them. The sleeves of his robes had become too short, his forearms constantly exposed no matter how he tried to cover them. It was an embarrassing sight for any well-to-do Mysidian, though he found that his care for it seemed to of diminished.
It didn't seem right for a father - an old father, at that - of a five-year-old girl that was indeed growing up.
But Tellah didn't know if he could have it any other way.
He stared forward, eyes taking in the office. Compared to the claustrophobia he had previously endured, it now seemed like a huge task to fulfill. The back cream-colored wall was connected to two other walls of the same color that extended at an angle, all three with the same filmy curtain over certain windows. He barely felt the sandy carpet beneath his heavy boots, but he knew it was there.
The one ornament that kept the room alive wasn't the mellow, smiling picture of Sakura De'Terre hanging on the farthest wall, but the miniature one on the desk of Anna Mesiocite, grinning back at him in a red dress that she picked out herself.
And Tellah knew, as he knew in older days, that the little mirror of himself and Sakura would likely be the death of him.