***Author's Notes***
Since the fic is in the idle bin, I'm taking off my normal restriction of keeping it linear. Meaning, I'm writing scenes that relate to the story, but don't necessarily fit together in the timeline.
Not even sidestories, yet parts of the story I have not yet meshed together as they would have been had I written it straight through.
Though, I admit, it does give me a lot more room to work with, as well as creating new avenues for me to walk down and peruse.
Its inspiration of the wrong kind, yet it calls.
As to the actual content of this one:
Fighting/Action meets character relationships.
I have the feeling most of you will hate it or simply not understand.
The focus is on the emotion, the body language, the actions of the characters.
This is something I've been thinking of since I began writing the first scenes.
***Author's Notes***
Duty and Conscience, Truth and Reality Incoherent Records – a series...
"In Conflict, There Is Peace."
***
Ramza did not feel fear, nor did he feel confusion.
He felt terror turning into excitement, his body beginning to respond on its own, providing its own impulses.
Clad in his old tunic and cloth pants, Ramza strafed upon bare feet, avoiding Agrias –clad in the off-white and blue dress of the St. Konoe- as she applied a two-handed thrust with her weapon, beginning low, aiming high into his chest.
Twisting his torso as he bent forwards to the right, Ramza stepped forward with his left foot to pivot towards Agrias, going past the oak rod she held that simulated a blade, intending to stab her left side with the smaller cane he held in his right. He expected her reaction, but it still hurt.
After she released the grip she had on her rod on her right, she backhanded Ramza across his brow, immediately pivoting her left hand to bring her weapon back across where it would score a light wound along Ramza's back upon his shoulder blades.
In turn, he surprised her by meeting her counterattack, his headbutt into her arm sending a shock of pain as Agrias overextended and locked her limb. She gasped as she felt the tip of his cane probe where the left side of her ribcage met her belly. She exhaled as he carefully removed his weapon just in time for the shorter cane that he held in his left hand to trace vertically across her right side to come to a rest at her armpit.
His crimson eyes heavy, lidded, and his expression implying sensuous excitement, Ramza withdrew, his weapons reluctantly drawing away from her, their touch slowly fading away.
As Agrias began to breathe normally, she realized just how winded the two of them were.
Ramza couldn't stop the lopsided smile he had. It faded as she grinned at him in return.
"Again." Her voice was dusky, arousing his attention even as she flicked her left wrist and twisted to the right to laterally slash Ramza.
***
Ramza felt worry as he sparred Agrias. Fighting had always brought him satisfaction, if not fulfillment. However, he had never felt joy as he did now. To enjoy the act of trying to destroy another was something he had always feared and loathed. Now, he reveled in it, little care in his attitude.
His primary concern was how to break her guard, her range, her advantage.
He held two weapons; the one in his right little longer than that arm, half his handspan extending below his grip for counterweight; the one on his left simulating an elongated dagger, the length from his fingertips to his elbow, with less than a knuckle's length below his grasp.
Agrias, however, held a weapon nearly as long as his combined, in a stable –rigid- two-handed stance, her form much more limited than his, yet solid and powerful, having reach.
To stand off and exploit a slip wouldn't work again, he knew, resolving to dissolve his reluctance in approaching her this way.
Ramza paced back, allowing Agrias room to develop breathing space as he focused on what he would do next.
Take her on the offensive.
***
Agrias began to retreat, sidestepping as she sought to weave Ramza in tighter to the spiral they danced on the training room's rough stone floor. There would be no slipping on this ground, except in one's blood against the little knives that the stones were.
Likewise, she was excited, intrigued by the aggression he now displayed to her. The constant drive he displayed on the battlefield was here, directed against her! However, where his eyes had been filled with anger, his were filled with amusement, pleasure, the intensity identical, but the emotion opposite. Magnitude unchanged, the direction tangent.
The counter-thrusts she applied failed, all of them nearly successful, yet failing. The aspect of Ramza she feared and desired –his intensity. She knew he wasn't serious, yet he was, in his way; his intention of conquering her, on the battlefield, and beyond. She was inflamed, her femininity challenged, courted, and now engaged in battle.
Through the confusion and the maelstrom of her emotions fighting her desires, Agrias reveled in this conflict.
***
She mimicked his circular, yet linear, strikes, fascinated by how his sticks danced upon hers, guiding it across herself as one of them would strike and attempt to disable her, yet Agrias managed to break free by paying off her defeat with distance.
In battle, she would have cut him down several times, yet she knew, for every scratch, every gash, every wound she would have inflicted upon him, he would have slivered her flesh in multifold.
His drive was restrained, displayed to her, yet refusing to fulfill his potential.
Likewise, Agrias restrained herself, resisting opportunities to take him, beyond her advantage, forgiving of his mistakes.
As he exhaled sharply, making a dull 'eh!' sound, Agrias replied, shuffling forwards to meet his charge.
***
Ramza presented his left side to Agrias, angled towards her, his short dagger-replica attempting to engage Agrias' weapon, whilst she simply tried to slash or skewer him. His right hand, turned away, kept on rotating in half-circles, forward, or back, his longer cane continuously moving, coming forwards to ward Agrias off or to feint.
Ramza's shoulders grew sore, the fatigue and ache beginning to spread lower in his arms and from his thighs up into his torso.
His throat had gone dry.
***
Their martial intercourse continued heedless of victories achieved, imagined blood shed, their lives flowing through the others' hands.
Wondering why, even in her advances, she was on the defensive, Agrias channeled the energy she had left, even as the vitality in her limbs ebbed, and her lungs burned for fluid air. Her right forearm was in tender agony, strained from the stresses she had inflicted upon herself when she decided to wield her heavier weapon with only that hand, freeing up her left to knock aside Ramza's right wrist as he swept his weapon in across her.
He still scored an impact that grazed her right side besides her ribs, the sensation she felt as her breath was driven from her, a luscious gasp torn from her by his touch.
His grim smile became hers as the short stick he held in his left hand failed to deflect the rotary strike she imparted with a twist of her right wrist, his attempt only glancing the weapon onto the right arm that struck her, instantly flicking forwards into the right side of his waist.
This was when Ramza thrust himself onto her.
Agrias froze as Ramza engulfed her, or rather, her taller form absorbed him. Her weapon having just blindsided him, he pushed forwards, and she felt his sore sides slide against that which defended her, until his stomach met her hand, closed fist holding onto her sword, trapping right forearm between them both, and as Agrias felt two faint strokes that traced from the back of her thighs to her shoulders, she almost lost herself.
Her body became rigid, the tension she felt an experience unto itself as her muscles became taut cables upon Ramza's weapons jabbing softly into the flesh on the back of her legs.
Sensuous torture began as he traced his weapons upwards, flanking her curves before converging at her back.
A halfhearted attempt was made by her to grapple him, but as her weapon slid from her grasp to their sides, the clatter of the oak upon striking the stone floor, she slumped onto him, her head resting upon his shoulders. As the hairs that grew down the side of her head in front of her ears brushed past his cheekbones, she sighed, tranquilized.
***
Ramza sat on the ground, leaning back, his arms supporting him as his head was turned to gaze towards Agrias besides him. Blissfully exhausted, she lay on her side on the stone floor, her legs in scissors as she gazed back upon him. Her breaths were deep, audible, and robust.
"You do not have much form..." she told him, verbalizing one of her observations.
Ramza 'mm'-ed in response, shrugging. "I rely on ferocity... consistent aggression and intensity."
"I do not complain," Agrias told him. "It is..." she chuckled, "refreshing." Languid, she undulated to bring herself closer to him, pulling her dress down as her clothing began to outstrip her. "You are effective at what you do... reckless, but , oh..." she sighed, "passionate."
Moments passed as Ramza lay down on the stone floor, wondering why the carved rocks and set mortar felt warm, sheepishly reaching out with his left foot to nudge Agrias with his toe.
She made a small squeak as she recoiled playfully, though Ramza wondered at the hint of alarm in her reaction, seeing something within the cores embedded within walnut eyes.
"Ramza..." Agrias said to him, her voice faint. "Come back..."
Through his teeth, Ramza took a breath, the tranquility that he basked pierced by Agrias' fear. As he shared her happiness, joy, and satisfaction, so did he share her hatred, insecurities, and woe. Likewise, as she simultaneously sought security within him and to shelter within herself, she also fought with the beasts that lurked inside of him.
Closing his eyes, Ramza paused. The answers were within him, glowing, yet intangible. "I shall," he replied, his tone light –there was no way that he could sound out the sincerity that he meant. "When I return... will you..."
His relaxed voice trailed off as he felt two items landing softly across his stomach. Grasping them and bringing them up to his eyes, he saw that they were his weapons. His body sore with a dull ache, Ramza swayed as he rose, exchanging glances with an Agrias drawing from her stimulated reserves. She stood firm, yet weariness emanated from her, something resembling resignation smoldering, and once more, Ramza found himself at her center.
To defeat, or to be conquered, to be repulsed, and to be shattered, to be shunned... to be loved.
It was almost enough to cause Ramza to return to his knees and lay his weapons down, yet understood that Agrias would hate such a surrender, for such submission to fate would kill him, Ramza knew, as Agrias believed.
Either may fall, both, or none. Surrender could never be accepted for it symbolized abandonment of the other; the adversary's identity was immaterial. To fight, that was their release.
It was their lives.
***
***Author's Notes***
The chapter was not meant to be literal so much as emotional and I'm hesitant to reveal - poetic, even though I cannot define how... I simply feel that I placed emphasis on flow and repetition of feelings and thoughts above any plot.
In a different shade... this story was written with emotions that one could call 'erotic.' The intensity, the patterns, and the feelings are similar, if not identical.
Please, I did not mean anything deviant in this, except to display how two dysfunctional people could share a moment of intimacy with the other in a medium that neither were aware of -and thus, are able to commit themselves to.
Truthfully, I do not see either of these two as capable of sexual intercourse, marriage or otherwise (I'm a pervert, yet I'm a prude)... and, in the upcoming events, how believable would it be for these two to become married? To be lovers would be enough of a strain, though, Ramza has been courting Agrias since their first talk on that night at Dorter.
Not that they wouldn't, but Agrias would be the one to halt any attempt at matrimony because of what is going on around them. Commitment is an issue Agrias will waver on far more than Ramza. It isn't an insult about her, its an observation. The way she thinks and acts indicates that she'll feel the most hesitation and misgiving about any union with him.
While the 'action' segments of this could be revised, expanded, and converted into a duel that is beyond the other conflicts I have ever written... it would ruin the emotions and flow of that which I wove in.
Though, there may be a re-write of this scene... so often has it floated through my minds at various points of writing.
BTW, if you saw any sado-masochistic undertones in this... please, you're looking too deeply into the wrong departments. Its a trust/release dilemma... and their outlets are different. Though, I do have to admit... Agrias does come off on the domineering side...
***Author's Notes***
***Readers' Response Corner***
Yes, the story is discontinued, however, I will still continue to write pieces of it.
I will not deny that I feel joy that people miss the story, if not me, though I feel sad that a source of release has been more or less, abandoned. Still, the fic calls to me, not when I lapse in life, but when I feel joy, just as I had at the beginning of the project.
My problems will seep in and influence the fic tremendously, as they always have, and always will.
Having some time to walk away from the fic and observe it from a distance, I have come to some conclusions:
I tried to create a semi-novelization (my writing-style is just that slow) of the tactics plot, with a severe twist not only in the form of the Agrias/Ramza relationship, but an attempt to focus deeply on Ramza -well, including Agrias- and his thoughts, actions, and motives.
I wanted to portray him not as the contradictory innocent that he was in the game... where his character was too clean, too angelic... too perfect a manipulated hero.
In making him more human, more tangible, I believe I have achieved success... some at least.
In breaking away from the mold in which he was cast, I have failed. Ramza is still a very strong character, almost omniscient, yet his weaknesses seems so glaring, that one wonders how does he keep from breaking apart?
Overdramatization is a sin that I have chosen to indulge in. The worst part about that - I do not feel penitent... a contradiction of my values...
Yet... this story, even if it isn't completed in this medium, the theme of a passive/aggressive male and an aggressive/passive female will continue to be something that I will explore.
It is my story.
I am arrogant enough to believe that I have contributed something memorable in the fandom of Final Fantasy Tactics when it comes to fanfics, and I want this fic to have a home outside of ff.net.
***Readers' Response Corner***
Since the fic is in the idle bin, I'm taking off my normal restriction of keeping it linear. Meaning, I'm writing scenes that relate to the story, but don't necessarily fit together in the timeline.
Not even sidestories, yet parts of the story I have not yet meshed together as they would have been had I written it straight through.
Though, I admit, it does give me a lot more room to work with, as well as creating new avenues for me to walk down and peruse.
Its inspiration of the wrong kind, yet it calls.
As to the actual content of this one:
Fighting/Action meets character relationships.
I have the feeling most of you will hate it or simply not understand.
The focus is on the emotion, the body language, the actions of the characters.
This is something I've been thinking of since I began writing the first scenes.
***Author's Notes***
Duty and Conscience, Truth and Reality Incoherent Records – a series...
"In Conflict, There Is Peace."
***
Ramza did not feel fear, nor did he feel confusion.
He felt terror turning into excitement, his body beginning to respond on its own, providing its own impulses.
Clad in his old tunic and cloth pants, Ramza strafed upon bare feet, avoiding Agrias –clad in the off-white and blue dress of the St. Konoe- as she applied a two-handed thrust with her weapon, beginning low, aiming high into his chest.
Twisting his torso as he bent forwards to the right, Ramza stepped forward with his left foot to pivot towards Agrias, going past the oak rod she held that simulated a blade, intending to stab her left side with the smaller cane he held in his right. He expected her reaction, but it still hurt.
After she released the grip she had on her rod on her right, she backhanded Ramza across his brow, immediately pivoting her left hand to bring her weapon back across where it would score a light wound along Ramza's back upon his shoulder blades.
In turn, he surprised her by meeting her counterattack, his headbutt into her arm sending a shock of pain as Agrias overextended and locked her limb. She gasped as she felt the tip of his cane probe where the left side of her ribcage met her belly. She exhaled as he carefully removed his weapon just in time for the shorter cane that he held in his left hand to trace vertically across her right side to come to a rest at her armpit.
His crimson eyes heavy, lidded, and his expression implying sensuous excitement, Ramza withdrew, his weapons reluctantly drawing away from her, their touch slowly fading away.
As Agrias began to breathe normally, she realized just how winded the two of them were.
Ramza couldn't stop the lopsided smile he had. It faded as she grinned at him in return.
"Again." Her voice was dusky, arousing his attention even as she flicked her left wrist and twisted to the right to laterally slash Ramza.
***
Ramza felt worry as he sparred Agrias. Fighting had always brought him satisfaction, if not fulfillment. However, he had never felt joy as he did now. To enjoy the act of trying to destroy another was something he had always feared and loathed. Now, he reveled in it, little care in his attitude.
His primary concern was how to break her guard, her range, her advantage.
He held two weapons; the one in his right little longer than that arm, half his handspan extending below his grip for counterweight; the one on his left simulating an elongated dagger, the length from his fingertips to his elbow, with less than a knuckle's length below his grasp.
Agrias, however, held a weapon nearly as long as his combined, in a stable –rigid- two-handed stance, her form much more limited than his, yet solid and powerful, having reach.
To stand off and exploit a slip wouldn't work again, he knew, resolving to dissolve his reluctance in approaching her this way.
Ramza paced back, allowing Agrias room to develop breathing space as he focused on what he would do next.
Take her on the offensive.
***
Agrias began to retreat, sidestepping as she sought to weave Ramza in tighter to the spiral they danced on the training room's rough stone floor. There would be no slipping on this ground, except in one's blood against the little knives that the stones were.
Likewise, she was excited, intrigued by the aggression he now displayed to her. The constant drive he displayed on the battlefield was here, directed against her! However, where his eyes had been filled with anger, his were filled with amusement, pleasure, the intensity identical, but the emotion opposite. Magnitude unchanged, the direction tangent.
The counter-thrusts she applied failed, all of them nearly successful, yet failing. The aspect of Ramza she feared and desired –his intensity. She knew he wasn't serious, yet he was, in his way; his intention of conquering her, on the battlefield, and beyond. She was inflamed, her femininity challenged, courted, and now engaged in battle.
Through the confusion and the maelstrom of her emotions fighting her desires, Agrias reveled in this conflict.
***
She mimicked his circular, yet linear, strikes, fascinated by how his sticks danced upon hers, guiding it across herself as one of them would strike and attempt to disable her, yet Agrias managed to break free by paying off her defeat with distance.
In battle, she would have cut him down several times, yet she knew, for every scratch, every gash, every wound she would have inflicted upon him, he would have slivered her flesh in multifold.
His drive was restrained, displayed to her, yet refusing to fulfill his potential.
Likewise, Agrias restrained herself, resisting opportunities to take him, beyond her advantage, forgiving of his mistakes.
As he exhaled sharply, making a dull 'eh!' sound, Agrias replied, shuffling forwards to meet his charge.
***
Ramza presented his left side to Agrias, angled towards her, his short dagger-replica attempting to engage Agrias' weapon, whilst she simply tried to slash or skewer him. His right hand, turned away, kept on rotating in half-circles, forward, or back, his longer cane continuously moving, coming forwards to ward Agrias off or to feint.
Ramza's shoulders grew sore, the fatigue and ache beginning to spread lower in his arms and from his thighs up into his torso.
His throat had gone dry.
***
Their martial intercourse continued heedless of victories achieved, imagined blood shed, their lives flowing through the others' hands.
Wondering why, even in her advances, she was on the defensive, Agrias channeled the energy she had left, even as the vitality in her limbs ebbed, and her lungs burned for fluid air. Her right forearm was in tender agony, strained from the stresses she had inflicted upon herself when she decided to wield her heavier weapon with only that hand, freeing up her left to knock aside Ramza's right wrist as he swept his weapon in across her.
He still scored an impact that grazed her right side besides her ribs, the sensation she felt as her breath was driven from her, a luscious gasp torn from her by his touch.
His grim smile became hers as the short stick he held in his left hand failed to deflect the rotary strike she imparted with a twist of her right wrist, his attempt only glancing the weapon onto the right arm that struck her, instantly flicking forwards into the right side of his waist.
This was when Ramza thrust himself onto her.
Agrias froze as Ramza engulfed her, or rather, her taller form absorbed him. Her weapon having just blindsided him, he pushed forwards, and she felt his sore sides slide against that which defended her, until his stomach met her hand, closed fist holding onto her sword, trapping right forearm between them both, and as Agrias felt two faint strokes that traced from the back of her thighs to her shoulders, she almost lost herself.
Her body became rigid, the tension she felt an experience unto itself as her muscles became taut cables upon Ramza's weapons jabbing softly into the flesh on the back of her legs.
Sensuous torture began as he traced his weapons upwards, flanking her curves before converging at her back.
A halfhearted attempt was made by her to grapple him, but as her weapon slid from her grasp to their sides, the clatter of the oak upon striking the stone floor, she slumped onto him, her head resting upon his shoulders. As the hairs that grew down the side of her head in front of her ears brushed past his cheekbones, she sighed, tranquilized.
***
Ramza sat on the ground, leaning back, his arms supporting him as his head was turned to gaze towards Agrias besides him. Blissfully exhausted, she lay on her side on the stone floor, her legs in scissors as she gazed back upon him. Her breaths were deep, audible, and robust.
"You do not have much form..." she told him, verbalizing one of her observations.
Ramza 'mm'-ed in response, shrugging. "I rely on ferocity... consistent aggression and intensity."
"I do not complain," Agrias told him. "It is..." she chuckled, "refreshing." Languid, she undulated to bring herself closer to him, pulling her dress down as her clothing began to outstrip her. "You are effective at what you do... reckless, but , oh..." she sighed, "passionate."
Moments passed as Ramza lay down on the stone floor, wondering why the carved rocks and set mortar felt warm, sheepishly reaching out with his left foot to nudge Agrias with his toe.
She made a small squeak as she recoiled playfully, though Ramza wondered at the hint of alarm in her reaction, seeing something within the cores embedded within walnut eyes.
"Ramza..." Agrias said to him, her voice faint. "Come back..."
Through his teeth, Ramza took a breath, the tranquility that he basked pierced by Agrias' fear. As he shared her happiness, joy, and satisfaction, so did he share her hatred, insecurities, and woe. Likewise, as she simultaneously sought security within him and to shelter within herself, she also fought with the beasts that lurked inside of him.
Closing his eyes, Ramza paused. The answers were within him, glowing, yet intangible. "I shall," he replied, his tone light –there was no way that he could sound out the sincerity that he meant. "When I return... will you..."
His relaxed voice trailed off as he felt two items landing softly across his stomach. Grasping them and bringing them up to his eyes, he saw that they were his weapons. His body sore with a dull ache, Ramza swayed as he rose, exchanging glances with an Agrias drawing from her stimulated reserves. She stood firm, yet weariness emanated from her, something resembling resignation smoldering, and once more, Ramza found himself at her center.
To defeat, or to be conquered, to be repulsed, and to be shattered, to be shunned... to be loved.
It was almost enough to cause Ramza to return to his knees and lay his weapons down, yet understood that Agrias would hate such a surrender, for such submission to fate would kill him, Ramza knew, as Agrias believed.
Either may fall, both, or none. Surrender could never be accepted for it symbolized abandonment of the other; the adversary's identity was immaterial. To fight, that was their release.
It was their lives.
***
***Author's Notes***
The chapter was not meant to be literal so much as emotional and I'm hesitant to reveal - poetic, even though I cannot define how... I simply feel that I placed emphasis on flow and repetition of feelings and thoughts above any plot.
In a different shade... this story was written with emotions that one could call 'erotic.' The intensity, the patterns, and the feelings are similar, if not identical.
Please, I did not mean anything deviant in this, except to display how two dysfunctional people could share a moment of intimacy with the other in a medium that neither were aware of -and thus, are able to commit themselves to.
Truthfully, I do not see either of these two as capable of sexual intercourse, marriage or otherwise (I'm a pervert, yet I'm a prude)... and, in the upcoming events, how believable would it be for these two to become married? To be lovers would be enough of a strain, though, Ramza has been courting Agrias since their first talk on that night at Dorter.
Not that they wouldn't, but Agrias would be the one to halt any attempt at matrimony because of what is going on around them. Commitment is an issue Agrias will waver on far more than Ramza. It isn't an insult about her, its an observation. The way she thinks and acts indicates that she'll feel the most hesitation and misgiving about any union with him.
While the 'action' segments of this could be revised, expanded, and converted into a duel that is beyond the other conflicts I have ever written... it would ruin the emotions and flow of that which I wove in.
Though, there may be a re-write of this scene... so often has it floated through my minds at various points of writing.
BTW, if you saw any sado-masochistic undertones in this... please, you're looking too deeply into the wrong departments. Its a trust/release dilemma... and their outlets are different. Though, I do have to admit... Agrias does come off on the domineering side...
***Author's Notes***
***Readers' Response Corner***
Yes, the story is discontinued, however, I will still continue to write pieces of it.
I will not deny that I feel joy that people miss the story, if not me, though I feel sad that a source of release has been more or less, abandoned. Still, the fic calls to me, not when I lapse in life, but when I feel joy, just as I had at the beginning of the project.
My problems will seep in and influence the fic tremendously, as they always have, and always will.
Having some time to walk away from the fic and observe it from a distance, I have come to some conclusions:
I tried to create a semi-novelization (my writing-style is just that slow) of the tactics plot, with a severe twist not only in the form of the Agrias/Ramza relationship, but an attempt to focus deeply on Ramza -well, including Agrias- and his thoughts, actions, and motives.
I wanted to portray him not as the contradictory innocent that he was in the game... where his character was too clean, too angelic... too perfect a manipulated hero.
In making him more human, more tangible, I believe I have achieved success... some at least.
In breaking away from the mold in which he was cast, I have failed. Ramza is still a very strong character, almost omniscient, yet his weaknesses seems so glaring, that one wonders how does he keep from breaking apart?
Overdramatization is a sin that I have chosen to indulge in. The worst part about that - I do not feel penitent... a contradiction of my values...
Yet... this story, even if it isn't completed in this medium, the theme of a passive/aggressive male and an aggressive/passive female will continue to be something that I will explore.
It is my story.
I am arrogant enough to believe that I have contributed something memorable in the fandom of Final Fantasy Tactics when it comes to fanfics, and I want this fic to have a home outside of ff.net.
***Readers' Response Corner***