Annalise;
The moonlight scatters dust across the dusk:
And I watch, contented.
The stars sparkle mischievously, painting diamond on a bronze canvas:
But I wonder when the sun will rise.
The wind of the talismans, blue with euphoria, ruffles her father's hair,
In perfect tune, with the descant of the sea.
I see her eyes, a perfect cerulean: reflecting the goodness in her grace.
I see her smile, little sanguine: announcing serenity wherever she goes.
I see a powerful aura, white gold and onyx-black: putting the world at rest in years' time.
And as the orange rays tumble over the bleak horizon, I see an angel's heart:
Beating with all strength, beating with all might:
I know the elements will find it true...
For about the hundredth time in a row, the little mage had precariously opened the wrinkled pages of her intermediate spell-book just to ignore the instructor at the front of the room, and focus on the intricate scrawling that had been made on the worn parchment paper.
That's Mother. She's writing about me, isn't she? She has to be...
"Mesiocite! Pay attention!" barked a voice from the front, causing the girl to shut the book hurriedly. Giggling from the small group of students encompassed around her ensued. "Quiet down!" it went once more. A cautious glance upward revealed one, Professor Reinhardt of the intermediate Black magic class looking less than pleased with the uproar he had caused. His brows narrowed threateningly, making the features encompassed underneath his wide-brimmed hat frightening. Such a notion threw the students back into a state of silence, afraid even to breathe.
Anna, already silenced, remained unfazed, and simply stared back at him, her naiveté undoubtedly getting the best of her.
"That's better," the professor muttered, casting one dark look at the little girl, before turning back to the blackboard. It still angered him that Anna had found a place in a class consisting of students mostly in their early teenaged years ("Only because she's that windbag Tellah's daughter, I'm sure!"). He couldn't bring himself to admit, however, that she was indeed a prodigy in both the dark and light arts, and learned at a rate far beyond her years. Such a thing was not common in Mysidia, and it merely scared him to be associated with something unorthodox.
Why, though? All of his colleagues seemed enamored by the possibility of instructing a mage with gift far more than they might of had. It seemed as though the Mysidian Elder knew his fear of those double entwined with the gift of red, and purposefully gave him the child, rather than uphold the claim that she needed to be with students near her skill level.
For that, her eyes frightened him; and he was afraid to admit it.
"Now then," Reinhardt announced, picking up a piece of chalk, "for ten points added to their end of term, who can tell me the structure of the incantation commonly known as Lightning Two?"
Anna watched as various hands flew up into the air, their sleeves of blue falling down to their shoulders in a timed sense. She knew it wouldn't do any good to try and answer herself; for one, the rest of the students took up more mass than she did, and two, Reinhardt often seemed to ignore the fact that she was in his class.
And why not? She thought, fighting with her face to keep it from twisting into an ugly, near bitter, look. They all wear blue robes, and I don't.
Her eyes fell to her lap, legs encased in a brilliant scarlet. The whole outfit was the same red hue, save for a double-braided gold cord tied around her waist. The red cap on her head, covering feathery strands of near carnation, topped with a yellow chocobo feather, was a huge contrast to the simple wide-brimmed gold hats that Reinhardt and the other intermediate black mages wore.
I want to wear what they wear. No one else wears red, 'cept for Daddy... And no one else's Daddy is old, are they...?
Gaze finally moved from lamenting, back to curiosity. The book on her desk seemed to have her paralyzed, as though the words themselves were calling out to her, begging to be seen once more.
Anna bit her lip, quickly glancing up at the black mage professor (who had now moved on to the basic origins of the Lightning spell), then back at the book. It wasn't that she felt anything owed to the burly mage, but rather, the twinge of guilt that suddenly ripped through her heart. Her father had seemed distracted the previous night, drowned in a pool similar to grief, making the chance to go through the old bookshelves opportune.
But he never wants to talk about her, she reminded herself. He only talks about how being a Red Mage is going to be important to me... So this is okay.
Taking another look at the instructor (he now had the others engaged in challenging who was the first summoner to procure the lightning daemon, Indra), she timidly opened the book's cover as though fragile glass, and flipped the pages.
But the parchment wasn't there.
Anna gasped audibly, causing the rows in front of her to turn, and gape at her, but she didn't care. She turned the pages quickly, trying to find some sort of sign that the paper was still there, and not whisked away like the magical endowment that it seemed to be.
Books were thrown up, the bag next to her double-tousled in horrific attempts. I didn't... It can't be...
Indeed, it seemed gone.
"Do we have a problem, Mesiocite?"
The Red Mage could only guess that the looming shadow that had fallen across her desk was the instructor himself, but she still kept up her search. "My paper's gone," she replied, not bothering to look up, and bringing forth a hint of nervous laughter from the class. Either she was delusional, and didn't know she was speaking to the most-feared professor in the Academy, or perhaps she really was asking for an early death.
Reinhardt took her words as a threat. The shadow stiffened, an arm shaking in restraint to grab the girl. "Do you know that's the second time today you've disrupted my class, Mesiocite, and the twentieth time this week?" he replied, coldly. "Not all of us have infamous fathers who dress like slobs."
This brought yet another bout of nervous laughter from the class, unsure of testing the familial water the instructor had waded in. Anna, however, jumped up to the challenge.
"You... You just say that 'cause you're... you're jealous!" the red-robed child snarled, grabbing her book as though she meant to hit the black mage. He, at best, stood three feet taller to her three-foot stature, and was undoubtedly wider that she couldn't get an arm across. That didn't mean cheating, and using the desk, though.
"Jealous of a slob, and disgrace to Mysidia? I don't think so, you little snottish brat. Sit down, and shut up!" Reinhardt yelled back, making a halfhearted grab for her, his other hand reaching out for a piece of gold his eyes had dropped on. He smirked when she dodged, and slunk back into her seat, her head bowed in remorse.
"I believe we had moved on to the discussion of the Nuke incantation before we were rudely interrupted," he continued, shuffling back up to the front of the room, the class following his movements as though he were divine. Whatever he had grabbed was soon crunched in between his fingers, gold glinting before it was shoved into his pocket.
Anna, who had been warding off tears, had recognized it, surely. How it came to fall out of a solid book was beyond her, but she had her own hypothesis already in store. A fist brushed across her eyes before she quickly stood up again.
"Give that back, you big mean teacher."
The class flitted from the professor, to the Red Mage, afraid to even gasp. Yet another taboo had been broken, such punishable by death.
"Nuke is, of course, an advanced spell you will learn in your later adolescence," the professor continued, gritting his teeth, his gaze locked with the child. A vein in his forehead seemed fit to burst. "If some of you even get there."
"I SAID give it back!" the little mage growled, stamping a foot. "That's my mother's -"
"I SEE we have our first volunteer to perform this incantation!" he howled, marching down the row of desks. "It's a DANGEROUS spell, so maybe our little kindergarten cohort here will kindly blow up afterwards!"
After much struggling, Anna attempting to grab the parchment from the robes, Reinhardt slapping her hands as he pulled her along, they had resumed a post at the front of the room. Wide eyes shone underneath the sea of wide-brimmed hats, waiting on baited breath for the result.
"Give - It - BACK! NOW!" screeched Anna, fit to burst on more tears. She didn't care if her school demeanor had been lost, the promise she made her father broken, reducing her to how five-years-olds often acted in public, and at home.
Reinhardt was unfazed. "A love note, Mesiocite?" he asked, digging the parchment up from his robes. "Aren't we too young to be turning tawdry?"
Anna was shaking, tears flowing feely down her little face. Her hands clenched, and unclenched, digits itching. "I'm warning you, if you don't give it back now -"
"Might I read it?" he smirked, unfolding the paper. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your classmates, would you?"
"I'm WARNING you!"
Reinhardt's face twisted, emerald eyes poring over the paper. "Poetry? Honestly, who would write it to such a little devil..."
"FIRE THREE!"
The class couldn't have seen that coming. Anna had, indeed, become illuminated in a green aura - a symbol of casting dark magic - but never would have one thought it to be a power of third designation. Fire seemed to of erupted from the carpet, meeting up with the ceiling, a thousand fragments of flame pounding into the intended target.
Reinhardt still stood, even as the last bit of ash had dissipated. The parchment was gone forever.
"Shell charm," he replied to the gasps and murmurs that had broken out amongst the class. His hand dipped into the front of his robe to return with a circular jewel, coined, affixed to a chain. "Surely most of us have them in our possession, waiting for someone to threaten to kill an instructor.
"I think the punishable fine should be death," he continued softly, not breaking his gaze with the horrified one Anna had. "We'll let the headmaster execute that."
Silence had once again taken the class into its grasp. Reinhardt had moved to his desk, and was hurriedly scribbling something onto another parchment.
I didn't try to kill him... He was the one who made me mad!
Turning on her heel, Anna raced for the door, and kicked it open, not bothering to look back at the load of trouble she was already in as she raced down the halls at full speed.
Of course, there was only once place she could think of that convicted criminals could possibly go...
...And that was the girls' toilet, all the way upstairs and near heaven.
"You know time is running out for you, Norbert. Matron Ama wanted this task done years ago the day before."
It was the voice that made Anna pause bashing the door in with her shoulder, but kept it to a comfortable crack. Shocked, she glanced up at the door that clearly marked the chamber as being females only.
Yet, if that were true, why was a male voice speaking from inside?
"I told you, Cassius, that I had second thoughts on killing the baby!" another snarled back. "I just wanted Sakura -"
The girls' head tilted, curiosity piquing her interest. Sakura. The syllables sounded familiar, especially when they came from this new voice. Had she heard them say it before, or was it a simple recurrence of deja vu?
"...Got only a few weeks to get it done," the first voice continued. "Otherwise, you can kiss this precious school goodbye."
Intrigued, Anna pushed open the door even more, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two male intruders.
She never got the chance.
"Shouldn't you be in class, young lady?"
Anna quickly turned, jumped even, landing against the door, which swung open to a comfortable distance. The disapproving face of the Mysidian Elder shone down on her, arms crossed at his chest.
"Uncle Toilet! I... I mean! The... The toilet!" the red mage gasped, scared, but determined. "There are boys in the girls' toilet!"
"Nice try," the Elder commented dryly. "Professor Reinhardt told me a rather interesting story involving your pyromania antics, and I'd like to hear you say it isn't true, Anna."
The girl groaned. How he had known the act beforehand didn't grate her, but had she not of played the child who often cried 'red imp!' so many times, she was sure her father's brother would of had more faith in her. "I'm serious, Uncle Leto! Look!"
But there was nothing to be found. The stalls remained devoid of anyone at all.
"Yes, we should have this section of the bathroom cleaned more often," Leto added, sticking his head in for good measure. "Remind me to hire another janitor.
"Anna, I admit you're different from the other students," he continued, drawing a hand on the stunned mage's shoulder to lead her away down the hall. "No doubt you're just like your father - stubborn and wild."
"He got in trouble all the time, didn't he?"
"More times than you can imagine," the Elder replied. Had Anna looked up at him then, rather than counting the cracks in the stone walkway, she would've grown even more confused at the twisting look on his face.
"I want you to do something for me, Annalise," he suddenly said, stopping their descent. "Yes, no doubt your father hasn't told you that's your full name," he added, silencing the questions that were starting to pour out of Anna's mouth with a offhanded wave of his hand. "Gracious beauty, just like the flower.
"Give this to your father for me, will you?" Leto continued, pulling a small rectangular package from his black robes. "I have to depart for Baron in awhile, and won't be back until tomorrow. I need to survey the subset of white mage classes we have, and see if we should add or take out instructors."
"I'll give this to him now, then!" Anna said, with a small smile, as she took the package into her arms, and eventually into her robe pocket. Relief seemed to make her forget why she had been running in the first place; the poem had been for her after-all.
"You will give it to him after class," the Elder corrected gently, starting their walk again. "You know that setting an instructor on fire deserves punishment, even if he has a charm to ward it off. Same with running away from him."
Anna's mouth dropped. Half a glimmer in her heart had hoped he would've dismissed the incident. "But he wouldn't give me back something of Daddy's!" she protested, stamping her foot in disbelief. "He... He... Provoked me!"
"You really do need to work on your temper, just like your father," Leto replied, sighing. It seemed in no time they had reached the lower half, close to where Reinhardt's class was held. "I requested that you write lines rather than have the same spell extracted on you. It will take place after you have eaten your lunch. I think you can miss an art class while this goes on, hmm?"
"No on likes me in that class anyway," the little mage replied. "They're all a bunch of idiots!"
"Here you are, Professor Reinhardt's class," said the Elder, ignoring Anna's last remark, as they came to a halt in front of a door. "He'll escort you to lunch to make sure you don't run off again," he added, patting the girl's shoulder before he turned.
Anna's face pulled into a worried scrunch as she glanced up at the door, but relaxed when she felt the package in her pocket. "Hey, Uncle Leto?"
He stopped, and turned.
"Mother's name was Sakura, wasn't it? Hey, wait!"
But the portly governor had simply turned tail, and hurried off, leaving Anna in a state of fear, confusion, and partial happiness, all mixed into one five-year-old prodigy's interchanging whirlwind of life.
A/N: Next up, more Tellah, less element distractions. Yay :) Thanks to all who read and (maybe?) review. It's very much appreciated.