(16,241 words) No I didn't write something wrong, I did somehow manage to own my record by 6000 words, and by sister's by 3000. So as a reward for the longer time it took to update, here is the longest chapter I have ever written.
4000, 3000, 1800, 1500, 2000, 2000. I went OCD and tried remembering how much I wrote each day, and if that doesn't add up (Can't be bothered to do the maths) it means I've missed a day.
I got 52% on my maths test, 64% on my science test and 79% on my History test. According to Arianna that's crap. Long story short I went crazy, and my compulsive desire of writing this as quickly as I could didn't help, I got really frustrated and on the day I wrote only 1500, I was walking around my house screaming and pulling my hair. At one point I threw an empty skate board box at my wall.
If anyone wants to help my sanity, I recommend you review. This took me four hours to edit! I need the win, before I lose it.
Does anyone want to be my beta reader, because my friend is currently and she's not as good as she said she was. If I have six mistakes, she'll get rid of them and replace them with ten of her own. They're not grammatical errors like what I do, but she rewrites the sentence and switches around pronouns which changes the meaning completely. She's done it to a previous chapter, the pronouns thing I mean, ten times in all and I know I didn't find all the mistakes.
And oh before I forget, I'm not to be held at fault for anything in this chapter. If it seems like it happened too fast, that was on purpose because than you can better feel what the character is feeling.
Disclaimer: I don't own this.
Dance against the wind
Chapter 11: Selling your soul to the devil
Claire hastily shut the doors to her bedroom, and locked herself in. Though lasting not long over a minute she had had yet another argument with her mother, this time over breakfast. Her mood was certainly bad, but not enough she was tempted to hurt someone like she usually was. The amount of restraint she used on herself at those times was painful. Even so, she favoured the idea of being left alone; especially now. Two letters had come in, from her father and sister, and thankfully the one to retrieve them was one of the few slaves that preferred her over her dreadful mother -They still found her just as an oddity as everyone else, but liked her for her lack of racism- so he gave the letters to her, instead of the replacement head of the house.
They were addressed to her as she found out, but she didn't feel surprised one bit upon opening them. She knew her sister adored her, and it was her that her sister intended her promise of writing whenever she could for. Her father must've known she would worry far more than her mother could, his wife, whether or not she loved him, was not one to worry herself over a situation like his. That woman was too concerned about her daughter's situation than to be concerned that her dear husband, the one that kept her in riches and gave in to her every material desire, might die soon. There was a good reason Claire believed her to be the crazy one.
She had taken a seat on the cushioned chair by her dressing table. She'd opened her father's first, finding it short, but it comforted her to know he was doing fine, for the moment at least.
Dear Light,
She blinked in surprise finding he had used her nickname, but her surprised quickly subsided. Of course he would.
Don't you or your mother worry about me; I've yet to be deployed into the fight. Though the need for men is high, they won't let untrained men on the field, it is suicide and they may as well not have used such men at all. I'll be deployed soon, but don't fret yourself I promise you I'll be fine. I won't die and leave you all alone; I know plenty that for you your mother is no company at all. I hope you're doing good and aren't having too much trouble with others, try not to get angry at them all the time, you don't have to agree with them on everything but being polite is a good thing.
I'll send a letter to your sister after this,
Love, your father.
She sighed, wishing it had been longer. But there was nothing she could do about it, he was doing fine and that was what mattered. Right after she ripped open the envelope that enclosed her sister's, it was longer, and it was easy to imagine her ecstatic sister sitting right next to her excitedly blabbing on with all the details of her new life.
Dear Claire,
I've settled right in here, the house is a little bit smaller, well a lot smaller actually but I still adore it. It's beautiful; every little spot is beautiful, inside and outside. Even all the surrounding houses are magnificent. Spending my life here sounds wonderful I think; the people are wonderful too. I've managed to befriend women for once; finally now that I have someone they don't have the crazy idea I'm out to steal theirs. They all had really close bonds, but I've just blended right into the group and now I feel it's like I was there from the beginning, they're really are such wonderful women, so nice. It's what I never had back in Oerba.
I know you hate him but Snow has been a splendid husband and I know he's not going to hurt me. You seem to disregard the fact we've been friends for years before now, I know what he's like; I know he wouldn't ditch me for the next pretty girl he saw walking by. It's not healthy to constantly think like that. He adores me, I'm his princess, and he's never going to abandon me no matter what you think. I'll agree he's a hot head but he is a good guy and you really should've tried to understand that.
The only thing I miss is having you with me, I know you didn't have any interest in anything I ever talked about, but because you loved me you'd still listen to my every word just like I would with you. I'm sure we both didn't have any idea about what we were saying, but I wish I could have one of those conversations again If only one more time. I miss mother and father aplenty too of course, but I always felt I was closer to you than them, and though I'd love to see them so much I'd love to see you all the more.
Now I hope you're not having many arguments with mother, there's a limit to what she can take which I'm sure you've passed on more than one occasion; but please be nice. If she says something you don't like, don't go off your head. Be silent, pretend to lose your voice halfway through a sentence if you have to! I hated seeing you fight all those time. And if she keeps up with the idea that you have to marry, don't use that to get into another fight, please. Though I'd love to see you get married, and yes I'm free to hope for a miracle, I'm not going to be on you constantly about it. Just remember you and mother can't see eye to eye, you're two different kinds of people, it's just not possible.
Try to be nice,
Sincerely you elated sister, Serah.
Claire let out a quiet scoff, though very different letters, they had the same message. 'Stop fighting with your mother', didn't they know that was impossible? As long as they were stuck in the same house, as long as they knew each other, they would argue; that was that. She sighed quietly, and eyed the window, outside was sunny and clear, bird whistled happily.
Why now did she feel no want to go to her special place? She always went there, when she felt like nothing was worth it, or when she had nothing or no one there. But now she had not a single thought or feeling propelling her there. It was a habit she didn't want to give up, but when these thoughts appeared another was at its heels saying don't go. It was stupidity at its best that she didn't know her own thoughts.
Was it the blurry memories of the times Serah went there with her? Or the memories of her mother or a slave finding her there and yelling at her for making a mess of herself in the mud and long grass?
She didn't know, maybe it didn't matter either.
With a huff she jumped up from her seat, leaving the letters as is on the table, she'd inform her mother of them later, it wasn't her they were addressed to anyway. She would go back to the library seeing as she had nothing else. She was halfway through an intriguing book; she might as well finish it. She'd left it on the glass coffee table at the back of the grand library, like she always did so she wouldn't lose it in this house of extravagance.
The skirt of her baby blue and black dress spun at her sharp turn, and the hair Butterfly had styled against her will swirled and bounced against her slender neck. In mere seconds she was out the door, and hurrying to the library in an unlady-like manner.
A single bird resting on the window sill sung a repetitive song of chirps and tweets whilst Claire rested back on the soft and comfortable cushioned couch chair. She was deeply engrossed in the book and despite the small bird's constant song she failed to become annoyed. The world about her may as well be silent, for she was deaf to it at the time being; the ray of golden sunlight that rested on her leg and left it considerably hotter than the rest of her body which lay in the shadows; also went unnoticed.
Novels were a wonderful thing she found, and in a short time had gained quite a liking of them. They were a sweet escape from her life, no matter how bad the circumstances got in the story itself. The characters could go through hell and back in a constant loop and still she could feel better. She felt refreshed when she put the book down, for she didn't exist in that world, she didn't need to worry about her life, or her problems. It made things perfect if only for a little while.
The book she held in her hands was a man's world written by a man, it was clear, and how it belittled woman was the most important clue. At some parts the way the male characters spoke of the women she found herself so annoyed by them she mumbled to herself death threats directed to them. They were fictional she knew, but she found herself not being able to help herself at all. The females characters, Claire found, were more obnoxious than the men. They followed their stereotype to a T, and though she enjoyed the story, that got on her nerves to no end.
The characters led bad lives, and it made her feel better about herself because it showed her things could be worse, much worse. The main's little sister so far had been forced into marriage after her father died, and it was her brother's fault it happened. And after that her husband became abusive because she repetitively gave him daughters. It got even worse when she was raped by his friend and he found out and accused her of being a whore, and caused her to go into premature labour. And when she did have the child they died at birth, and when he found out if the baby had survived it would have been his first son, so he beat her again.
It was no understatement to say their lives were far worse than hers. However the writer had continued to write it so easily was beyond her.
It was afternoon by the time she finished. The window outside showed a glorious orange sky, dotted with lilac clouds with birds flying by offering their song. Claire lifted herself from the chair and returned the book to its place in the adjacent shelf. She exited the library at a leisurely pace, feeling no hurry to get to anywhere right this moment. She truly had nothing to do now, so she guessed, though she knew if her mother walked in she'd allege her of being lazy, she was going to take a nap.
She ascended each step carefully, so she had no fear of the ends of her dress tripping her. She took a left turn and headed directly for her room. The floor boards creaked at all the usual places, the light of the afternoon dotted the floor below her feet in a shade of orange where a window was above. She got to the dark wooden double doors that led her to her destination, with no trouble at all. Not expecting what she would have to deal with when inside.
When she swung them open and saw her mother sitting on the end of her bed, her expression bitter and mouth drawn to a line, her eyes went wide.
"What are you doing in my room, get out!" Claire Yelled, anger flaring up immediately. It was instinct when it came to the woman before her.
But she did not yell, or pull a hurt or irritated face. She stared at her; her expression was bitter, it was angry, it was holding back something that begged to be let out. All together it made it almost unreadable; her exact emotion at current time could not be predicted.
"Are you deaf?" She hissed, "Get out of my room you old hag!"
This time she winced, but her mouth stayed as a thin line, with a million different emotions fighting for supremacy in her blue eyes. Slowly, she got up off the bed, her arms crossed.
"Claire, I will not yell at you today. I hardly see the point any more, it will get neither of us anywhere, I'm sure you've realised by now you raising your voice against me is pointless. So be quiet and listen to me." She paused and eyed her to check if she was truly listening. Believing she was, she continued, "Sit down on the bed, we have something to discuss. You don't have to like it, it's fine to hate it. All I want is you to listen. You hear?"
Claire nodded, her eyes a mite curious as to what she wanted to speak about. Anger lingered in both their eyes, but for now they were to be civil. She complied and took a seat on the edge of the bed, sitting right where her mother had.
"Look, this is something you'd need to be told eventually, it's not something that can be left alone and ignored; especially since it involves you." Her mother began seriously.
Her daughter gave a slight nod in response, and patiently waited for more.
"You remember that man from before? I believe he interrupted you from your reading. That was what he said at least."
"The one that said I was 'interesting'?" Claire said in a mocking tone, "Of course I'm not stupid like you."
Her mother swallowed a lump that was forming in her throat before she went on.
"He's asked me in place of your father for you hand in marriage." She stated sincerely with a solemn expression.
For a moment, her daughter didn't react. The words pounced on her thoughts and consumed them, but her mind turned to screaming and refused to let her understand. It was too much to take in all in that one moment. Her face turned blank from outright shock, her voice forgot how to work, and all she got out was a simple,
"What?" It sounded frail, a whisper that was barely there.
"He asked for your hand in marriage, and I said yes." She repeated, and added as well the rest of it, which put her daughter into a deeper shock.
She always knew that if she didn't even make the attempt to get married by herself, her mother would do it for her. Because her father wasn't here, it made it so easy for her mother to do what she wanted, he wanted for Claire to get married, but out of her own free will. She always knew an arranged marriage was something that would happen somewhere down the line, but a little tiny part in the corner of her mind hoped it wouldn't have to happen.
"How can you do that?" She asked in a voice no less weak after what had felt like an eternity of silence.
"Because I'm not letting my daughter become some old maid, every woman needs a man to guide them." Her voice was stern, she was dead-set about what she was saying; these were her thoughts.
Claire's head fell to her hands, and she dug her fingers into her fringe and pulled. She held back a sob, she was stunned by this woman, by what she was doing and saying; but she refused to let herself cry, yes it hurt that her own mother would marry her off to a stranger without a care, but she wouldn't dare let herself cry in front of her. She wasn't weak.
As she struggled to keep it all back, her sniffling made her body shook, and when she tried to speak her voice cracked,
"How can you think that way? Think like we're useless and can't do anything?" She stopped so she could stop a falling tear before the other noticed it was there, "The only reason you can't do anything is because you never tried. I'm not you; I don't need someone to lead me around. I'm not some lost puppy that doesn't know what to do!" On the last part she lifted her head to glare daggers at her mother. But it showed her the tears that edged her eyes; and her red face after she had tried to keep them in. She broke then, and her head fell back to her hands to try to hide her sobs.
It didn't do anything, her mother would still see her shaking, her wet hands. But she did nothing to comfort her, to help her.
She really didn't care, so she watched and waited for the time she'd calm down, acting like this was nothing.
"I don't know his name! I don't even know anything about him! How could you do this you old hag!?" She screamed.
Her mother's face expressed nothing, not even pity. But it was clear she was very annoyed, she raised her hand and slapped her angered daughter across her cheek. claire caught herself with her right arm, her left feeling the red mark forming where she'd been hit. Staring dumbfounded at her mother.
"Shut up; don't ever speak to me like that again. This is for the best, he has money beyond your wildest dreams; you will thank me someday."
She glared for one last second before storming out and leaving her there.
Claire jumped up off the bed, and ran to the door; she grabbed the handle and screamed at her mother's form speeding down the hallway.
"I'll never thank you! Die horribly and rot in hell you stupid ugly old hag!" She pulled with all her strength on the handle to slam it, but just before it closed, a person who she hadn't known was there put in their arm and leg to stop the door from closing. She jumped from the sudden appearance, and heard now who she recognised as a man groaning in pain.
"Didn't expect you'd be able to shut it with such force; that hurt." He griped.
Claire stepped back and let the man open the door properly and come inside. When she saw it was the man from the other day, her mind caught up and she glared at him. "You should've made your presence known; that was mighty rude a thing to do eavesdropping like that."
The stranger shrugged, "Nothing wrong with wanting to know how my fiancé reacted to hearing of the proposal." He eyed her red tear-stained face, "Not as well as I would've liked."
"I'm not your fiancé, my mother said yes not me!"
"But you don't have any control in the matter now do you? You're just the daughter of a plantation owner. It doesn't matter what you do you will never have any power or control over anything. His money has nothing to do with you." He smirked confidently.
She narrowed her eyes, "Shut up, I'm not your fiancé."
He sighed, "Well sorry to say, you are now and there's nothing that can be done about it."
Claire tsk-ed at him and turned around with her arms folded. "My mother is a monster; I don't even know your name. I don't know you at all for that matter."
"It's Yaag." He answered the question she hadn't quite asked, but had certainly been thinking it.
He inclined her head just enough to see him in the corner of her eye, "Fine, Yaag, leave me alone now or I'll beat you up. I'm in no mood to talk with anyone at the moment."
He scoffed at her sentence, "Really now?" He walked to her front. "You really think you have such an ability to do so? That's pretty gutsy to be honest." He smirked again, she scowled.
"You sir are no gentlemen."
"And you certainly are no lady either."
Her frown thinned into a line, that way he could so easily smile, annoyed her greatly. And without thinking what punishments it'd carry, she slapped him right in the face.
His deluded thoughts on her left him completely unready and if his stance had been any worse he would have fallen flat on him bottom. He stopped himself, but just barely; and when he stood back up straight, his expression was fiery. He grabbed her by the collar and threw her onto the bed, she landed hard and it hurt despite the soft blankets and mattress beneath her. In a second he was upon her, keeping her there by putting his legs on hers and holding her arms down, his grip was so tight his finger nails dug into her soft skin and drew blood. She winced in pain but he didn't even take notice.
"Listen here you dumb whore, you will be my wife whether you want to or not! You will have no say in anything; you will do whatever I say exactly as I say it!" He growled.
She glowered at him and spat in his face, "I'll do no such thing!"
He took his hand off her bleeding arm and slapped her far harder than she'd hit him. She coughed up spit and ending up in a coughing fit, her cheek already hurt from when her mother hit her, now it was flaming.
"You." He hit her again,
"Will." And again,
"Do." And again,
"Whatever." And again,
"I." And again,
"Say." And one last time, making sure it hit harder than her the rest. This time when she coughed it was blood that came out, and it trickled down her chin. Tears of pain that she had been forcing back edged her eyes.
The creaking of the door made both of their eyes turn to there at once. Butterfly's petrified face watched the scene on the bed. Straightaway Yaag climbed off her, and fixed up his suit and acted like nothing had happened.
When he walked past Butterfly, she bowed to him and stuttered in a trembling voice, "I didn't see anything!"
He gazed down on her tiny teenage self for just a moment and said lazily, "Because it didn't."
Instantly Butterfly ran to the bed when she knew he was gone. She made sure she'd shut the door beforehand, so no one would see Claire as she was. She climbed up on the bed besides her, where she was nursing one of her arms. The bones in her legs were in hell but at least they weren't bleeding.
"Oh dear Goddess, Young miss are you alright?" Her squeaky voice whispered to her in a tone filled with more alarm than Claire had ever heard from anyone ever before.
She shook her head as Butterfly wiped away the line of blood on her chin; her dark eyes overflowing with concern. Sure even she went off at Claire at times, but she wasn't a heartless pig.
Without warning, Claire wrapped her arms around Butterfly and pulled her into a hug, finally letting her tears fall. She cried for the pain, for all the frustration and sadness her mother caused her, for never having anyone there, for everything. Her eyes were becoming red and puffy, her head pounded and her throat was dreadfully sore; but still the tears continued. She always held it in, and more than ever before, was she letting it out, all the pain that had accumulated throughout the years. She hadn't realised how bad she felt, until just now, being comforted in the arms of a girl who probably had it even worse.
She fell asleep like that, too exhausted to keep her eyes open, Butterfly stayed with her, holding her, being the dear friend she'd always needed but never had. For now she'd be a replacement for the one girl who could've helped Claire, she'd never be enough, but at least she was there to care.
The two slowly awakened in the middle of the night, roused by the sound of Chocobo squawks, gunfire and screaming. At first they were too drowsy for their minds to comprehend the situation. The room should've been cast into darkness at this time of night, but instead through the open window on the other end, the room was lit up bloody red. It was when the distinctive smell of smoke drafted in, did they realise just what was happening. Claire sped from the bed to the wall, her nails dug into the wooden sill, chipping the white paint. At her heels was Butterfly, a startled gasp followed. The small teen had her hands in front of her agape mouth, eyes open wide; positively petrified.
Outside they could see rouge soldiers riding on freaked out Chocobo's clearly out of control. But they didn't care for their safety, it was easy to see they had enough skill to stay on the birds; but of course none of that was the problem here. Two held up wooden stakes with oiled ends, which they proceeded to set alight and throw at the first floor of the mansion, laughing like madmen. Another three who had regained control of their rides took off in the direction of the slave's quarters; behind her Butterfly stiffened and clung to her, fearing for the others down there.
Claire bit her lip and clenched her fists, which only made her scratch off more of the paint and cause pain for her hands. It was happening, what she'd always feared. The house was under attack by rogue Cocoonian soldiers, she believed it karma for her mother's words and actions, but her mind couldn't care less for her right this second. She feared for herself, and for her father's slaves knowing that if any were to try to stay the soldiers would kill them on the spot. She could fill wet drops on her shoulder, signifying Butterfly was already in tears. She had sympathy for her, unlike her Butterfly still had relatives whose lives were in danger, one's she cared for deeply.
"Oh young miss, my papa and sis are down there, what if something happens to them? They wouldn't dare leave unless they know where I am! They'll die!" She blubbered as she cried on the other's shoulder. Claire bit her lip harder and held her close to try to comfort the distraught teenager.
"Look, we'll get out of here and we will find them so they know you're alright. We can't stay in here anyway, I'm pretty sure they already set fire to the lower level, we need to get out now before the flames block our path." She forced herself to sound confident; in truth she'd never been more scared for her well-being. Death had a high chance of occurring tonight. But damn if she was going to let it.
She took hold of Butterfly's shaking hand and led her to the door. She let her lead her without a word. The girl must've known that Claire had no idea what she was doing, no more than she herself, and she was in tears, her mind had lost the ability to work straight. But Claire was a strange woman, she'd act strong even when she didn't need to, and for sure, now was the perfect time for courage. Still, even Butterfly could tell she was faking that strength; she was a pampered rich girl, whether she liked it or not, the amount of abilities she had were in lacking.
Claire opened the door a crack; there were no flames in sight, no smoke either. But she could smell wisps of it coming from down the stairs. They would have to leave now, or it'd be too late. She took a look back to Butterfly, whose round eyes were edged with tears and reddening, her cheeks stained. When she turned her head around, despite it the young girl had attempted a go at a strong face. Strength was in her, probably more than what Claire had, but her anxieties blotted it out in its entirety.
"Young miss, you don't have to be brave for me, I can be brave for myself, I know I can so let me try-"
"I'm not being brave for you Butterfly," Claire cut her off. "I'm doing it for myself."
For a second she was frozen, as she hadn't been expecting her to say that, at least not so openly. Claire was a woman who refused to be weak, saying what she had made it feel to Butterfly like that 'bravery' truly was a façade to make herself feel better, so she could feel different to the other women who she knew. Claire must've known that herself, and yet she'd chosen to say it anyway.
The older opened the door gradually so it wouldn't creak. When they were out and in the hallway, Claire made them keep close to the ground so no one would see them in case any had entered the building. They reached the staircase after what had felt like an eternity of increasing agony. The smoke had increased dramatically, and by now was clearly visible. The flames were yet to reach the steps, but had already consumed half the room before them, for now it was too distracted with the many expensive objects along the walls to care for upstairs. Before it got to them, they'd have to reach the hallway that led to the courtyards. And to do that they had to get down the stairs without being spotted, and had to dodge an area covered in flames dangerously close to their destination. They wouldn't have much time; soon their way would be blocked.
"We have to hurry." Claire whispered to the shaking girl at her side, the urgency in her voice as clear as the sun on a sunny day. Butterfly nodded and let her take her hand. If anyone else was in the house, they couldn't see them, and hopefully they weren't visible either, it was hard to know. They would be above the intruders, making them in plain sight. Claire led Butterfly down; the small girl was absolutely petrified and had wrapped her arms around Claire's shoulders and had dug her head into the crook of her neck. Without being able to see her steps were awkward so Claire had to make sure she concentrated completely on where her feet landed. The smoke was obscuring the area now. She was trying to hold her breath, but each time she did she'd hold on for too long and her body would force her to take in a big gulp of air; she decided to keep her breaths small, and steady. Claire was getting woozy; she hoped she was near the bottom, already she was almost at her limit. On the last step Butterfly slipped and fell, bringing her down with her. The girl screamed in fright as she landed harshly on the wooden planks, right on her face. Claire was lucky to have thrown her arms in front of her so her head didn't take the impact like it had with Butterfly. When she hit the ground she instantly got back up again, in a crouch and checked their surroundings. Butterfly had a loud voice at the worst of times; this was an example of that, her scream had been deafening. When she was sure no one had heard, she turned to butterfly to see how she was doing.
"Are you hurt?" She asked, before taking in deep breaths, she had winded herself at a horrid time. Her mind was swirling as she inhaled too much smoke; she needed to stay conscious, it wasn't just her she had to worry about.
The girl picked herself up on unsteady arms, a line of blood dripped from her nose; she appeared more unsteady than before, but the damage didn't seem too bad.
"Yes, but my face hurts plenty." She replied before going into a coughing fit.
With a frown Claire pulled her close, they had to get out now. Butterfly was in a worse condition than her, she must have inhaled a whole bunch of smoke after the fall; her body had must've made her do it without her control.
"Hurry, if we don't get out now I don't think we'll make it." She stated in a level voice. She was scared out of her mind, but refused to let it show. Just because the girl on her lap said she was going to be strong didn't mean she actually would. She wanted to, but the negativity locked up inside her kept it down and made her a cowering mess.
"Right." Butterfly mumbled; talking was too difficult; Claire decided that if she could she would avoid making her have to use her voice again. The fragile girl was horribly tired atop of everything, so was she, but it was easy to see the other had it worse.
Butterfly got off her lap, and Claire steered them to the hallway she had intended to reach from the beginning. They were incredibly lucky for its close proximity to the stairs, but incredibly unlucky for how close in the time they had wasted that the fire had gotten. The black smoke was blinding, and the heat unbearable. They crawled along the floor as they passed by the entrance; the flames lapped the floor and wall besides them like waves on sand, growing ever closer. The ground was hot, making it painful for their hands and knees, even when there was a material barrier between their skin and the wood. Sweat dropped into Claire's eyes from her glistening forehead, blinding her further; one of Butterfly's hands grabbed the end of her dress, making her feel the same was happening for her. She felt like her skin was melting, and her insides felt like they were what was on fire from too much inhalation of smoke.
As they managed to leave the fire in the main room behind them, the heat dissipated. Sadly the smoke was reluctant to leave, and they were stuck with the suffocating cloud above their heads the entirety of the time they crawled the length of the hallway. Claire wiped away the sweat on her eyelashes, finding her sight un-blur itself greatly. She would have allowed herself a sigh of relief but she feared taking in more smoke. When they reached the door at the end, relief filled the both of them. Claire used the door to aid her in standing; her legs were trembling under her as she took hold of the doorknob. She came close to falling as she twisted it and all her weight went against the door as it swung open into the courtyard. She fell onto the stone bricks hard, it hurt something bad but as cold night wind surrounded her overheated body she felt joy in a corner of her heart. Butterfly scuttled over to her and laid by her side, she kicked the door shut with her foot and ridded them of the smoke finally. Ash covered their clothes and skin in parts, their hair was sweat mattered and their skin swathed.
Both took in greedy gulps of night air, filling their lungs with well needed oxygen. The pounding and swirling in Claire's head evaporated and got replaced with startling clarity, it was wonderfully refreshing. Butterfly even allowed herself a short, but happy laugh. She was extremely relieved.
Still, it was far from over, the fire would reach here soon enough, though they had a large amount of time greater than what they'd had when they'd started out, it didn't mean they were out of the woods yet. Claire picked herself up off the stone ground; she walked in a crouch, edging gradually to the water fountain in the middle. Butterfly watched her curiously, until she signalled with her finger that she should follow. The teenager copied her movements and was soon again by her side squatting at the fountain's side, hidden behind the dancing water. It was known now, that the house was empty, of the intruders at least, the location of Claire's mother was a mystery. Though neither worried for her, this was her karma.
They had no fear of being spotted from the windows dotted along the courtyard wall, but the end was wide open. Before them was the bridge leading to the fields, and there was near to no cover for them. For butterfly she had a slight chance of survival if she got caught, but only if she accepted the offer of freedom and left Claire behind to die at the hands of the rogue soldiers. Being the daughter of the plantation owner, she was deemed guilty; she had no chance whatsoever. That was why they had to time this just right. If only they had more experience for such a situation, but that was impossible for a high-class woman and a clumsy slave girl.
The yelling and laughter of the soldiers could be heard from here, but clearly it was a way off, if they acted now, they might have a chance. Claire took to the outside of the yard, Butterfly unsure of herself kept at her heels like she had when they had been enveloped in the black smoke. They stopped at the foot of the bridge, knowing that when past it they would have to make a run for the cover of the trees without being spotted. They just hoped to the dear goddess they'd make it. They didn't want to die. Not tonight.
Claire took note of the length of the grass, and decided she would use it to their advantage, her mother had insisted it was getting far too long of late and had been at almost all the slaves that it desperately needed to get cut, luckily because she had overloaded them with tasks it hadn't been cut, and now they could use it to hide.
"You don't mind crawling through that do you?" She asked, pointing to the field in front of her.
Butterfly shook her head with a bemused expression, "No not at all young miss, it's you I'd have thought would be troubled by it."
Claire mentally sighed, "Its fine, especially since it's something that will increase our chances of making it through the night."
Butterfly nodded and they began making their way across the wooden planks of the bridge. Claire was constantly turning her head left and right, fearing one of the soldiers was about to come around the corner and would spot them. Fortunately, no one appeared and they reached the field with no trouble at all. Immediately they both went into a crawl, letting the knee-length grass keep them hidden. The grass was wet from rain that had poured earlier in the night, and without the sun to dry it the dirt remained as mud. The brown ooze dirtied their dresses, and stuck to their skin already sticky from sweat. The crawl was painfully long, and fear made the seconds turn to minutes, and the minutes to hours. By the time the trees were anywhere near them, Claire's shoulders arched horribly, and her breathing was troubled because her chest felt like something was pushing down on because it faced the ground. She wouldn't dare stop until both she and Butterfly were safe.
It was soon when they were among the trees, after the crawl across the field, but they didn't stand up, not yet, that was foolish. Claire rejected the thought of even a crouch, for she found that just as foolish. They were only just under cover, they needed to get deeper in and further away from the house to be safe. The soldiers were too distracted with the destruction of the plantation to care for the surrounding woodlands; here they should be safe.
She hadn't realised she'd done so until she was right in the middle of it, but subconsciously she'd led them to her secret place. She eyed the area with surprise, and stopped her movements. Butterfly's curiosity was instantly present, as from her position she had a good look of Claire's peculiar expression.
"Young miss, do you know this place?"
For a minute Claire made no action to show she'd noticed someone had spoken. But when that minute passed, she tilted her head to see Butterfly's curious face eyeing her.
"Yes, I use to come here with Serah." She mumbled, finding her voice had almost been lost in the prolonged silence.
"I see."
Claire turned her head away and looked around her; she'd first believed it had only been raining when the grass turned out to be a muddy mess, now it seemed it had been more than that. It'd been a thunder-storm, and this had been hit. The ancient stone bench had broken straight down the middle, and both sides lay half on the ground, the legs keeping them up. Bits and pieces or stone lay visible everywhere and a tree nearby had snapped in two.
It was then, when they heard the voices of men, she stiffened recognising them as the rogue soldiers.
"Young miss!?" Butterfly's terrified voice yelled at her, begging to hear if she knew a way to escape.
Claire bit her lip; they couldn't fail, not now, not after they'd gotten so far; she eyed the tree that had fallen down, how thick the layers of dying leaves were.
"Follow me." She commanded in a strong voice, not faked one bit. She in a crouch headed hastily to the tree, and in seconds Butterfly was with her too.
They hid in the middle of the branches, hoping to the dear goddess that they were invisible to any onlookers. The soldiers passed close by, hooting and cackling. Claire covered Butterfly's mouth so she couldn't make a sound, and didn't breathe once herself until she couldn't hear them any longer. They'd stay here until morning if they had to.
They were there for a long while, the exact time unknown, fear made the time seem greatly exaggerated. Without it, it would have been horrible, with it, it was all the more excruciating. Branches jutted off and stuck into Claire's back, making her position more painful that it already was, for having to crouch for a lengthy time left most of her in serious aching pain. Butterfly had fallen asleep in her arms, too tired to keep her eyes open any longer, she longed for sleep as well, the more she continued to stay awake, the more her eyes burned. But someone had to stay awake, especially now when danger was everywhere beyond the partial protection of leaves.
The soldiers could still be heard, though far more quiet meaning they were no longer mere metres away, they'd returned to their attack on the house. She could smell the burning even from here, she wouldn't dare move until her ears were greeted with silence and the fire subsided.
It was going to take hours.
It was a few hours past midnight when Butterfly awoke again, immediately her eyes went to the face of the woman's whose arms she was in. Her eyes were half-shut and her face dis-concentrated; being half asleep she hadn't noticed the other rousing.
"Young miss?" She asked in a low timid voice, terrified to raise it any louder.
Claire blinked in surprise, noticing for the first time the set of curious dark eyes watching her. She rubbed her eyes, her head was pounding, her body ached, everything was swirling.
"Yes?" She mumbled in a weak voice.
Butterfly frowned, she was in a serious need for rest, she'd never had to stay awake for as long as this. The night was a traumatic one.
"Do you need to sleep? I can stay awake and keep watch, though I think they've left now." Butterfly offered; her voice unsteady. She didn't want to be the one to keep watch, she preferred it as someone else because than that person could make them feel safe by being her protection.
Despite knowing how badly she needed to, Claire shook her head and declined the offer. "No thanks, I'll survive."
Butterfly nodded, though she herself wanted to beg for the other to have a rest knowing it was the healthy thing to do, she felt it rude.
Claire turned her head and looked straight ahead, focussing on the sounds outside. She heard animal sounds and the wind. Not a single person in the proximity. She could no longer smell the smoke, meaning the fire had settled down. Though there could still be danger out in the open, Claire took her chances and exited their hiding place. She was right, they were truly alone; the soldiers were gone. Past the rows of trees she could just spot what remained of the house. The bottom floor was nothing but a gigantic pile of ash with wood stacked on top, cracking and breaking apart. She took a daring action by walking back the path they'd come. They didn't know for sure if the soldiers had left, but she was damn sure they had. From fear Butterfly stayed under the cover of the snapped tree. When Claire was out in the open she found the out how greedy the fire had really been. Her sights had proved true, if the flames had continued in a couple of hours the whole mansion would be nothing but ash, but the fire had turned to embers. The second floor was recognisable only just; every part of it was burnt and broken up in pieces atop the giant pile of rubble.
It felt like a dream, this sight had been an impossible thought before tonight. This had once been a grand mansion, now it was nothing but rubbish. Nothing of it could be saved, it was all useless now.
"Butterfly," She called out, in the night-time silence she knew the girl would hear regardless the distance. "It's safe."
In a minute or so the teenager came running out of the woods, her eyes were round as dinner plates when she reached Claire's side. Her mouth was wide open; the sight was even more a shock to her. She'd never feared an attack like Claire had. But to both seeing how badly it had become was beyond belief. They'd heard stories time and time again of soldiers burning down houses, but never did it reach this level.
"It's all gone, I can't believe it." She exclaimed in her high-pitched voice, showing the astonishment she had on her face in its entirety. She looked to Claire, expecting the same, but she was blank.
She believed it was because this was her own house, burnt to a crisp. It would hurt to see the place you grew up in this state; but that was just what she thought, it wasn't the truth. Claire didn't know what to think, a part of her was happy and the other overcome with sadness. She had never even called this her home, but seeing it like this hurt in its own weird way. It held memories she'd never get back. She was happy despite this, because before it happened the ones she loved had already left, and though being without them made her depressed, she felt so relieved they didn't have to be here for this. This was also her mother's karma, she was getting what she'd deserved, watch the house she so adored burn to the ground, like Claire had secretly wished it would every night.
But getting her wish to come true wasn't as she'd imagined. It hurt her, it made her happy, and it made her angry. She confused herself, what to care more for. Her mind wouldn't let her concentrate on one thing, and in the end she just got frustrated at herself. Claire kicked the dirt and let out an angered scream. A startled Butterfly took a step back for distance.
"Young miss?" She questioned unsteadily, "You're not alright are you?"
Claire turned her head back, and looked at her. She had frightened her, not like it was the first time, but after going through so much so quickly she felt a hell of a lot sorrier for doing so. If only her mind would work straight, feeling like she was about to fall asleep where she stood didn't help anything.
"I haven't the slightest idea." She muttered, and strode past her.
Butterfly twisted around and gazed curiously at her,
"Young miss?"
"I'm seeing if there are other survivors. There has to be, sure they were mad enough to destroy the house completely but I'm hoping they had enough sanity not to go on a massacre as well."
"Right, I'll come to." She said; Claire was well aware she just didn't want to be left alone. No one would after a traumatic event like this.
They treaded along the muddy grass path, going around the side of the house. The wind whistled and wild animals were prowling along the perimeter of the woods, eyeing them for any sudden weakness. Butterfly clung to Claire, she'd acted as her protector all night even when she hadn't known what on earth she was doing; she felt safe around her now.
They reached the slave's quarters, a small lot of tiny houses on the edge of one of the fields. The houses were smashed, but fire had not ravaged them like it had the mansion. A small group of slaves were huddling around a fire they'd made. Children slept around the edges, along with a handful of chocobos. The group was not even a half of the amount Claire knew her father had owned. Some would have jumped on the chance of freedom, which explained why the number of chocobos still around was so little. She wasn't an idiot, she knew the ones that had left and the ones in the circle were not all of them. The smell of rotting circled the area; it was the smell of death. When she realised it, she covered her mouth with her hand, almost vomiting up all what'd she'd eaten today.
In the field beyond all the men were burying the one's who'd been killed, a disquieting amount. Butterfly gasped and choked on a sob. Without saying anything to her she ran to the circle, who Claire noticed was made up of only woman, for the men were in the neighbouring field. The area was silent enough to hear what the girl was demanding of the group, she was begging for them to tell her where her big sister was. She didn't hear what an elderly woman told her, but understood what it had to have been when she pointed past the circle and to the field of corpses. In a second Butterfly was on the ground in tears, a group of girls her age which Claire assumed she must've been friends with attempted to comfort her, but she batted their hands away. She frowned sadly as she watched it play out.
She didn't go near the others; instead she sat down on the wet ground, with her arms wrapped around her legs. She didn't hate them, and they respected her for it, but they hated her. She'd never felt more alone than at this moment.
After a while, when it seemed they'd quieted Butterfly to some degree, she noticed that she alerted them she was there by pointing in her direction. Most sent looks her way, before continuing comforting their loved ones, they must have lost many tonight. Only one, did anything more. One of the older slaves got up and walked all the way over to her, but she hadn't taken notice until she was in front of her, and made a sound for when she didn't notice even then. She recognised her as Nancy, one of the few that wouldn't bite her head off the moment she said something out of the ordinary, still, even she had yelled at her.
"Good to see you're alright. I know they won't say it because of your constant bad behaviour but I know they're glad." She informed her, in a deep voice.
Claire nodded; she had known that to a degree anyway. Better her than her mother.
Nancy sat beside her, with a little trouble, her old bones giving her a hard time. "Poor Butterfly, her sister was a goner, she got shot right in the chest; we couldn't have done anything."
Claire winced; Nancy had said it too easily. But she had to take into consideration that bad things were something this woman had lived with her whole life, she learnt to accept them whether she wanted to or not.
"You didn't see your mother anywhere did you?" Nancy spoke up after a moment of silence. Claire shook her head.
"Two went in there earlier, to see if there was anyone left in there. We found two children who had been playing hide and seek. A sad loss, they were twins; their mother doesn't have anyone else now. Her husband got shot as well." She paused, having a moment of silence as respect for the woman's horrible loss. "They didn't find anyone else, and no one think's Madam Farron managed to get out, most are hoping she was burnt to a crisp." She admitted, then quickly added, "Sorry if that's hurtful but-"
"It's fine." Claire cut her off. "I was hoping the same. She deserves it."
Nancy gawked at her in disbelief, than sighed dejectedly. "Wonder if I should even be surprised." She muttered to herself before raising her voice and speaking to Claire, "She treated you so badly didn't she? I overheard that conversation she had with that man the other day. I can't understand how anyone could say yes to an offer like that, coming from a complete stranger."
She waited for the other to make a response; Claire said nothing instead, turning herself into a smaller ball. Nancy eyed her than, the mud, ash, drops of blood and rips on her dress; it could all have been caused when she escaped the house and hid, but the mark on her cheek couldn't have. It was a humongous bruise that covered her whole left cheek. It was the type you could only get after being hit.
"Did he hit you?" She asked concern in her voice that reminded Claire of a caring mother, the caring mother she only wished she could have had.
She nodded, feeling sick in the pit of her stomach. It was a slave that was doing what her mother should've, like it always had been at the different stages of her life. That woman had never been there for her, and barely even for the younger daughter she'd absolutely adored. She lost it again, and cried for the second time that night. She was glad her mother was gone, burnt to nothing in the house she loved. Died in the fashion she had always claimed would never happen to her. Nancy rested a hand on her shoulder for comfort. It was something her mother had never thought of doing, and it just made it worse; but she didn't take her hand away. Nancy stayed with her until she calmed down. She was thankful for her presence, it made up for all the times the woman had gone off at her. Her mother had never once tried to make up for it.
"It'll be alright okay young miss." Nancy painted on a smile, "It'll be alright."
Claire lifted up her head and wiped away the tears, she forcibly made herself smile; she felt hurt inside. But she hated feeling so weak, and all crying did was highlight the weakness she wanted to rid herself of so badly.
"What's going on here?" A voice appeared suddenly from behind them, one she barely knew at all since she'd heard it only twice; but one she'd already learnt to despise. She and Nancy twisted around to see Yaag watching them a short distance away.
"So it looked like you've survived eh? That's nice." He smirked. He was happy about her survival for his own selfish reasons, and it earned him two death stares from the woman at his feet.
"Go away." Claire hissed, she only managed to make him widen his grin.
"There you go again thinking you have control over me, didn't you learn your lesson?" His eyes narrowed, Claire felt her left cheek; acting like his appearance had made the pain return.
"What lesson? I didn't do anything wrong." She spat.
He frowned. "Are you really going to make me have to teach you it again?"
"Just leave me alone, that's all I'm asking for you psycho!"
She'd gone over the line with the last word, not like she would could have gotten out fine if she hadn't chosen to say it, but the word 'psycho' lit his eyes alight with anger. Yaag pushed Nancy out-of-the-way, the old woman land painfully on her back and was unable to get up fast enough to help Claire before Yaag was upon her again. He picked the woman up by the collar of her dress and slapped her across her cheek, the same one he'd hit before.
"You'll listen to me if you know what's good for you!" He yelled, beginning to attract attention from the slaves, but the distance was too long to understand what was happening.
"Like a stranger would know what's good for me!" Claire laughed darkly, he hit her again.
"I'm your future husband; I out of anyone would know what's good for you!" He screamed, this time the onlookers got a clear view of what he was doing since this time when he'd hit the strength he'd used was enough to rip her from his grip. She fell to the ground hard, and instantly all the air was knocked from her lungs. With one hand she kept together the torn fabric, the other clawed into the ground as she gasped for air, feeling like none was coming in.
He went for another but the moment before it hit a hand caught his fist and threw him backwards. Yaag got knocked off his feet by one of the men who had noticed what was going on from the start and had run over here to stop it before it could continue. Seeing a black man in front of him infuriated him more. He was extremely tall and made for an intimidating sight, but in his anger Yaag disregarded it, as well as the fact that it was already known this man was stronger than him.
Claire recognised the man as Butterfly's father, the protective type he was, and not one to take kindly to pointless violence.
"I'm sorry sir but I must ask you to leave young miss alone." He asked, truly it was a command, but he wouldn't admit to it and Yaag was too angry to take notice.
"I'll leave her alone when I want to, She nor you have any right to tell me otherwise." He stated as he got back up off the ground, straightening his suit and wiping of the grass, he grimaced at the amount of mud had gotten on him, nothing he could do about it for now.
A handful of earlier onlookers had slowly edged closer to the scene, joining the side of the man who'd blocked the last punch by crowding around Claire so he couldn't touch her. Regardless of whether they liked her, they knew what the white man was doing was unprovoked and plainly wrong.
He growled at that. "Go away you mongrels; this is between her and me!" Yaag yelled at them, a small number backed away fearfully, but didn't leave.
"I'm sorry sir but I won't let you hurt her." Butterfly's father said again.
"I won't if you go away now and leave us alone."
"From what I saw before I'm not sure how much of that I can trust, I don't mean to be rude." His decision firmly made.
"Imbeciles." Yaag muttered under his breath, Nancy heard him clearly as she was on the ground next to where he stood, messaging her back. She scowled at the comment.
Claire rubbed her cheek; it stung so bad she had trouble keeping her eye open. This man was crazy; she needed to get out of here before he forced his way through the gathering crowd.
"May I ask you what she did to upset you Sir?" He asked respectfully but his face showed nothing but sheer hatred.
Yaag directed the same stare back to him, "Speaking like she was higher than me. Any woman who can think that is crazy." He spat, he couldn't see the venomous glare he was getting from the woman in question.
"Young miss is a strange girl, I beg you to forgive her oddities she doesn't think like others do."
Yaag rolled his eyes and ignored everything he was told. "Tsk, strange doesn't cut it, she's rude, how on earth she hasn't been punished for this before is beyond me."
Next to her someone whispered, "You're the rude one." Claire had the urge to chuckle at that, but this was not the time.
"She has been punished we assure you, punishment does not have to physical. Violence is not an act to be used on woman." Butterfly's father told him, having trouble keeping his anger back.
Yaag sniggered, "I'll do whatever I want with her she's my fiancée!" The sentence caused an army of looks to be sent in Claire's direction, filled with bewilderment. It lit the flames of anger in her eyes. She jumped off the ground and screamed at him as high as how voice would allow,
"I am not your fiancé, I didn't say yes to anything, just because my monster of a mother would allow it doesn't mean I will!" With one last look, sending daggers to him with her eyes, she pivoted on the ball of her feet and stormed off. Someone had grabbed her sleeve but their hand slipped off. Someone yelled for her to stop, but she couldn't tell who they were, no one chased after her.
She wasn't sure where she intended to go, all she knew she had to get away from Yaag, hopefully the others would obstruct him from getting to her, she could only hope.
But Yaag didn't take a step in her direction; he crossed his arms and stormed off in the opposite. Despite want he wanted from her, he didn't want to deal with her bad personality.
A mite shaken from the incident, the small group that had gathered as protection didn't know which way to look. Half of them had decided if he changed his mind and went after her, they'd return to acting as a blockade; but none wanted to go after her, they'd seen her and her mother's many arguments, an angry Claire was a scary Claire.
"Daddy!" Butterfly ran over to the group and jumped into her father's arms. He pulled the tiny teenager into his embrace lovingly.
"I was so scared daddy." She blubbered...but…but young miss helped me." She lifted her face, a shaky smile present. "She saved me daddy, I don't think I could've gotten out if it hadn't been for her."
He smiled sadly, holding her closer, "I'm thankful for that, I know she can be a good person when the time calls for it. It's a shame most people don't see that." A one or two in the group surrounding him suddenly looked guilty.
"I only wish your sister had been as lucky." He sighed dejectedly, Butterfly nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. Her father eyed the field he'd had to bury his eldest in, Butterfly eyed the spot Claire had disappeared from, she owed her her life; she only wished she knew how to repay the favour.
Claire stumbled about the woods, she'd always seen them from a distance from a second story window, but she hadn't gone near them except to go to her secret place. But that was in what must have been the tamest area that circled the house, this was a tangle of falling branches, sharp rocks and bugs that came in the thousands.
She battered away a low branch that was in her way, only to afterwards slip down a ledge she hadn't noticed was there. Her mind had been moving too slowly along for her to scream. She couldn't even remember the way back now, not like she had any intention of returning, she didn't want to see her so called fiancé's face. If she did she knew she'd be tempted to hit him in the face like she had in the afternoon, and she'd give into the temptations. But that did happen to be how she'd ended up having the massive bruise on her cheek.
Claire rubbed her foot which she'd injured in the fall, the ledge wasn't much of a ledge, just a slightly elevated piece of ground, but without knowing it'd been there she had still caused herself pain. Stubbornly she got back up after a minute, now limping to add to her troubles. It was in the early morning hours, the sun was yet to rise and the area was completely cast in darkness, the light of the moon blocked by the heavy canopy of leaves above her.
She felt with her hands where the closest trees were when the darkness became too much of a hindrance. On some occasions slices of light cut through the leaves and reached her, making her path visible, however the times they appeared were few and far between. She had to slow herself down whenever the light was entirely gone, in the case of coming across another invisible ledge, who's to say it'd only be her foot next time? Her pace was as slow as a snail most times, which was bad if unfortunately Yaag had gone after her, he'd be less concerned with his safety and would storm after her even in these conditions, she could tell already he was the type to go blind when angered. She'd be caught fast if this was so.
As she got deeper into the woods she could hear animals and bug scurrying away from her, she must have been making a lot of sound banging into everything like she was. She wasn't an owl, her eyes couldn't adjust to this level, and simply keeping your arms out in front barely even helped. The sleep she'd gotten in the afternoon hadn't been near enough, she had woken up tired, because she had been feeling too weary before from crying. So now, after hours of forcefully keeping herself awake, her mind was at its end, she had more than she could take. Her eyes burned, the times she blinked were common and each time she did she had to command her brain to open them before she accidently fell asleep where she stood. Her head was pounding, spinning; her legs were unsteady and soon she found herself constantly tripping and falling over things such as small as rocks and twigs. She'd torn her dress in multiply places, and had added more patches of dirt and blood. She could barely feel her injuries, there was a slight stinging sensation, but that was that. She knew she was in a worse condition than her mind was telling her, but it was too drained to properly comprehend anything at the moment. She was exhausted.
Her head drooped, too heavy for her sore body, and her eyes shut; her body had had enough and had given up the battle for consciousness. Her legs continued to move robotically as they had for hours, for she'd been lost in here a long time, a time her brain translated as millennia. She fell again, as she had countless time before, only this time was different. She didn't catch herself with her hands as she had the others, didn't protect herself. When she fell over the ledge her head was what hit the ground first, and it knocked her out cold.
When Claire awoke, her surroundings appeared a blinding white; quickly she shut her eyes before it hurt. Next time she opened them gradually, finding the area darken to its true colours as she let her eyes adjust. She was in a clearing in the woods, where the trees had parted enough not a single stick was on the ground. The sun had risen over the horizon, hanging low in the sky. She rubbed her head, realising how sore it felt, not to mention multiple areas on her arms and legs also pained her. She shifted her body so she more comfortable, her mind was still waking up, if she tried to stand up she'd undoubtedly fall back down. It was then she felt something heavy on her, propping herself up on her hands she saw there was a blanket covering her, and finally noticed as well she was now on flat ground. Before she could question a little boy ran into her sight, stopping by her side with an excited and surprised expression. He had dark skin and an afro that was starting to look bigger than his own head. His clothes were a mess and were almost entirely covered in mud, still despite it he had a bright smile placed on his features, laughing softly like the child he was. Claire also noted the tiny Chocobo chick he was attempting to contain in his hands, one that was constantly qwarking at him and trying to bat away his small hands with its tiny wings.
"You sure you're not going to kill that thing doing that?" She asked before her mind caught up, she hadn't noticed she'd said it out loud until the kid made a reply.
"Oh, I didn't notice I was holding her so tightly." He mumbled and opened his palms. The chick did what appeared as a sigh of relief, at least a chocobo's version of it.
The chick tilted its tiny head at her, eyeing her curiously before flapping its wings she'd previously thought flightless and flying up to her and landing on her shoulders.
"Kweh." It said as it jumped about, finally settling on the top of her head. She would've gotten it off and given it back to the boy, but past experiences with baby Chocobo's had her convinced it bite if she tried.
"I see she's taken a liking to you." The voice of an older man asked with a chuckle from a short distance away, Claire twisted around to see who she had to say must've been the boy's father. He looked exactly like him, only taller and older.
"She? The Chocobo?"
"Who else? " He laughed, and jumped over a satchel, obviously his. He was almost to her when she noticed it wasn't just him and the young boy that was here, the man was holding a baby in his arms, and guessing from the faded pink blanket they were wrapped in she'd have to say it was a girl. She blushed in embarrassment from not noticing earlier.
The strangers didn't notice, they didn't say anything about it at least. The man took a seat next to her on the ground, and the chick happily jumped on his head, partially hiding itself in his afro, having only her head pop out so she could watch the conversation. Claire didn't look at him as he did it, but he was looking at her, with interest and concern.
"Last night I found you out cold, you're lucky you didn't get seriously injured from that, you must've have hit your head guessing from the position I found you in. What on earth happened for you to get in a place like this? There's still rouge soldiers hanging about you know." In his mind he was trying to think up all the possible situations that could have brought her here. Her dress was covered in mud and dried blood, he could tell it was hers because of all the rips in her dress. Her hair was just as much a mess as the rest of her, but there was one thing which had his main concern. The massive reddened bruise on her left cheek couldn't have been caused by the same reason any of her other injuries could've. She could have simply been walking about in the woods to have caused all that, the branches could've jutted out everywhere and with no visibility of course she'd hurt herself on them, but how had that bruise gotten there then? She would had to have been hit, not cut, to have gotten that type of injury.
Claire had ignored his question, at first she planned to answer, but something else appeared in her mind and bothered her a great deal more. 'There's still more rogue soldiers hanging out'
"Why'd you say still?" She got out, after she failed to think of a reason.
The stranger let out one big sigh, and ran a hand through his afro shakily. "It doesn't have a good story to it I warn you."
"Well maybe I don't have a good story for why I'm here either." Claire cut in, he sent her a look.
"I didn't think anything else. Rich woman don't go wandering about in places like this for no reason." He looked back up to her, and waited for a response, when he didn't get one he sighed once again and explained his circumstance to her.
"They came two nights ago, a group of rogue soldiers, they didn't set fire to anything or nothing, but they destroyed the house, and our homes too so we wouldn't have had anything left to come back to. Luckily only a handful were killed, but sadly they were all young folk as well" He admitted grimly. His son wasn't paying any attention to the conversation, he and the Chocobo chick were a little way off; playing what seemed to be a game of tips.
When he lifted his head to view her expression he could see it was sympathetic, but as soon as he'd looked she attempted to hide it by blanking her face.
"They burned my house down, I have no idea if my mother survived or not. One of the slaves told me that two of the men had gone and searched what remained of it after the fire died down. They found two boys, but they couldn't find her. If she is alive she wasn't anywhere near where we all were."
"I'm sorry," He responded to her story, "It's always horrible to lose a loved one, my wife died a little while before it happened, wouldn't have even been a month but it feels a lot more than that. She passed after giving birth to this little one right here." He directed his words to the baby girl in his arms, sleeping peacefully. His expression desolate but with the strangest hints of happiness, no doubt because of the child he held.
"But I'm not sad she's gone." Claire admitted, "She hated me, she would yell at me for the littlest of things, me not wanting a husband happened to be a major problem for her. She was a monster; if she's dead I'm glad, it's what she deserves after all she'd done." She spat.
The man winced at her cruel tone. "Regardless, she'd still your mother isn't she? Surely you feel something?"
"I don't know what I feel. Whenever I try to think of her and all that comes to mind is the times we got into an argument, there's nothing good."
The stranger leaned backwards, exhaling. "'Constant arguments with your mother? Now that reminds me of a certain someone." He mumbled, with a chuckle. He said it to himself but Claire couldn't help asking,
"A certain someone?" She tilted her head so she could face him with his new position.
"Fang, she was my master's eldest, I doubt it was as bad but she had arguments with her mother now and then, only most of the time she put on a mask and lied to her so she could avoid them. Whenever she took it off they'd instantly get into a fight. She didn't want to get married either."
Claire nodded and sat back up straight. "Fang, I think I've heard that name before, the Oerba's daughter right? I heard she did get married"
The stranger nodded and lifted himself up to sit beside her.
"Yeah, but she had her reasons I assure you, half of them were to do with her parents, she married her friend so she could be rid of them. So I'm thinking if she ever cheats on him he wouldn't go throw her in a mental hospital like most do."
"God I'd cheat on mine even if I completely believed he'd throw me into an asylum if he found out." Claire muttered, not fully intending for her to be heard. But at the close proximity it was hard not to.
"Going off what you're saying you don' have a fiancé do you?" He asked; she went stiff.
"No." She shot back the second after the words had left his mouth.
He shook his head, decided it wasn't his place to question. For a while a silence rose between them, so Claire not bothering to think up something else to say, took a look around the area to see if anything whatsoever was familiar to her. Beyond the clearing the woods turned back into the dread she had to face the night before, and she was dead against having to make her way back through that again, her cuts stung like nails digging into to her skin again and again. She eyed the ends of the clearing, believing this man and his son had to have taken an easier path than she. The ends took on the form of miniature paths, surely they had been passing through along them.
Then a question popped into her head she stupidly realised she was yet to ask.
"What's your name by the way?"
"Hmm, it's Sazh, my son's is Dajh, Chocobo don't got one yet, and this little one," He lifted up the baby in his arms with a smile, "Is Vanille."
Claire nodded, "Vanille? I feel like I've heard that before." She mumbled, and bit her lip trying to remember where on earth she'd heard it or who had said it.
"She was my master's younger daughter; we were close so when I had to think what to call the little darling, she was all I could think of."
Claire blinked like a light bulb had turned on in her head. She remembered where she'd heard it, a couple of years back Serah had gone on and one about a girl with that name; she was the Oerba's daughter wasn't she?
"That girl died didn't she? I remember getting told something about it by my sister. Apparently she'd been real sick and-"
"She's alive." Sazh stopped her before she went on. Claire gave him a look of surprise, not expecting the interruption, but let him go on, her curiosity sparked by the sentence. "Her father asked her one day, who her best friend was, expecting to hear the name of one of the girl's she'd been talking to at a party her mother had held the night before." He smiled dismally, "But instead she said my name, and her father, who'd adored her since the day she'd been born, all of a sudden accused her of insanity and treated her as rubbish. He sent her to an asylum, and that's the last we heard of her."
By the time he'd finished, Claire's eyes were as round as bulbs.
"What is wrong with him? If he would send someone into an asylum because of their friend, then he's the one that really belongs in there!" Her voice rose to a yell.
Sazh shook his head and sighed, "Well it happened, there's nothing we can do about that, though her sister's never going to give up trying. At least the man got what he deserved, the soldiers bashed his head in; I saw it with my own eyes." He tacked on a smile hoping it'd help him in his attempt of chancing the topic; he was uncomfortable talking to a stranger about those events, despite that he was the one that steered the conversation to them.
"I didn't catch your name, what was it?"
Claire sent him a strange look, she understood why he was doing it to a degree, but it seemed stupid to start talking about it like he had and then done a 360 and decide he didn't want to.
"Lightning."
Of course her reply owned her a far stranger look than the one she'd sent him seconds before. He stifled a chuckle, and hid his face behind his hand, shaking his head at the bizarre name. It wasn't the biggest reaction she'd gotten after trying to convince someone that was her name, but it certainly wasn't the smallest.
"No it's not. I'm aware that the Farron's daughter's both have pink hair and seeing as that is definitely the strangest hair colour I've ever seen on somebody, I doubt you could be anyone else. And as I'm also aware, neither of those two were crazy enough to call their daughter by the name 'Lightning', what is it really?"
Claire frowned at being caught out so easily, she had hoped it had been the oddity of it, but even if it was normal she would have failed getting him to believe it.
"Claire." She gave him the real answer.
Sazh gave her a smile, "Now that wasn't so hard was it? Got a nice name."
"I hate it, call me Light." She cut in and ordered him before he continued the sentence. He sighed yet again,
"Well not as weird as Lightning but not as normal as Claire. Don't see why you hate it so much, it's pretty."
"Vanille's a weird name, so is Sazh for that matter." She cut in again.
Sazh jumped up and pulled a face acting like she'd hit the baby girl in his arms, "How dare you!" He joked, "I have a perfectly good name, and so is Vanille, it means Vanilla." By this time Dajh and Chocobo had stopped playing their game to watch the adult's conversation, which was quickly deemed stupid even by children.
"If you hadn't said the last part it would be normal, now it's just as weird as Lightning."
"You're trying to convince me to call you Lightning aren't you?" He inquired in a faked tone of disbelief.
"I might, I'd prefer you did." Also by this time along with their new onlookers, Claire began to think she was so tired from staying up all night she had gone loopy, she didn't usually act this way.
"Fine, Lightning then." Sazh gave up the battle and conceded to the idea of calling her by the bizarre name. "Can I hear how you got out here or are you going to keep acting like a five-year old?"
"If I'm acting like a five-year old you're acting like a baby"
"Just answer my question…." He heaved a sigh, and sat back down beside her. He was sure she was only acting this way from lack of sleep, knocking yourself out cold does not count as a proper rest. From what he had heard of the Farron's eldest, she was a strange girl, but not this type of strange. She wasn't immature; it was that she didn't think like other woman, apparently her mind worked closer to that of a man's.
"I got into an argument with the only white person still there, he's an acquaintance of my father and he keeps going off his head at me sprouting nonsense. So I stormed off without any plan of what on Pulse I was doing, and ended up getting lost in the woods in the dark. At one point I must have fallen down and that's that."
She had to wait a second for him to reply, he had his head in his hand again, the other having to tighten his grip on his daughter.
"So I'm guessing all you have ever done with other white people is get into arguments hah?" Sazh questioned.
"All excluding my father, he only told me to be nicer around people. And with my sister they were only tiny one's which involved her telling me not to get into arguments." She informed him.
"I can tell why you'd have the type of mother to get angry at you so much if it was like that. What on earth are you planning to do now? If you're the type to burn your bridges I don't see an easy path, at least I know where I'm heading."
Claire paused to think, what on earth was she planning to do? All she had now was a group of people who disliked her, though Butterfly might feel indebted to her now, it didn't help change much. The girl was greatly outnumbered.
"I don't know, I don't have a place I can go, I dreamt about this happening because it would be the perfect karma for my mother, but I never thought it would actually happen. I've never had to think ahead, there was never a need to."
Sazh smiled sadly, and patted her on the head; she flinched and glared at him, so he quickly took his hand away. "Jeez, it's almost strange to see someone of your class to be in a worse situation than someone of mine. I'd allow you to come with me but I have a feeling if a white man was to see a black man with a young white girl they'd accuse me of a some crazy crap."
Claire had a saddened look in her eye, but crawled into a ball so her expression would be less visible. "Racist pigs, they'd destroy everything near and dear to someone because people are being so heartless, but then they'd be heartless themselves. The hypocrites." She muttered angrily under her breath. Sazh overheard her and nodded his head in agreement.
"Had to deal with it my whole life, Master Oerba had a number of Cocoonian business partners, and sometimes they would come down, they'd say it to my face that it was horrid that the master had slaves, but the moment they thought you were out of earshot they'd be talking about you as if you were no better than a common beast."
Claire didn't voice a response to that, but he could see the disgust written on her face. "Where are you heading?" She asked simply, it wasn't the question he expected from her but not one of out of the blue.
"I was going to go up to Cocoon; Bodhum was my top choice, considering I actually know someone there. I'd be able to give my children a proper home and we'd be treated fairly.
A rustling in the bushes alerted them of a presence nearby, Sazh's eyes darted to the spot in fear of his son's safety in case of it being a fiend. When he saw a man there, he was originally relieved, but soon found out that relief was not the right emotion for this situation. The way the woman besides him stiffened made him realise that.
"There you are, I've searched for you all night, what made you think you could leave like that?" A harsh voice asked her angrily, Yaag's expression was fuming.
Claire's face mirrored his, "Who said I couldn't? Didn't hear you say anything, what's your problem?
Yaag scowled angrily, and it only deepened when he noticed the black man sitting next to her.
He directed the next question to him, "What are you doing with my fiancé?"
Sazh expression turned to one of purer perplexity, "Fiancé?"
In the next second, Claire shot up and stormed all the way over to Yaag, furiously. She swung her hand and slapped him. "I am not your fiancé! How many times do I have to say that!? I didn't say yes to anything, an engagement is not something you can decide on your own!" She slapped him again.
The man snickered at her enraged face, and felt his cheek like the hit had done no damage at all, like a five-year old might have done it. She could tell he was faking it, their proximity made it too easy to see the red mark forming. Not like he was going to admit to it.
"That all you got? somehow I expected more from you." He smiled arrogantly, and returned the hits only this time he sent her off her feet; he made sure he hit the same cheek as before, knowing the pain would be worse that way.
Claire fell to the ground, landing hard; she let out a pained groan. Yaag didn't even wait a minute before going in for another, he aimed a kick at her stomach intending to wind her, but the attack got blocked when Sazh intervened and the kick hit his shoulder instead. Dajh who'd been watching with no idea of what was going on cried and tried to run to his father, but Sazh sent him a look reading 'stay away and fearfully the boy did as he was told.
The man winced, but knew the pain he felt wasn't as bad as what could've been done to Claire.
"You're too quick to using your fists aren't you?" He questioned spitefully.
Yaag glared daggers at him, "I assure you it's her fault entirely.
Sazh laughed bitterly, "It doesn't look that way from here."
"Tsk, get your eyes checked you dirty mongrel." Yaag hissed and aimed a kick at the man's face, he wasn't giving any time to dodge and it was a direct hit. Sazh fell backwards, blood coming out from his nose, the impact awoke the sleeping baby in his arms and right away she started crying. The man had jumped up onto his knees and tried to calm her down.
"Hey it's alright Vanille, daddy's here; don't cry, don't cry."
Yaag scoffed at him, before directing his attention to the woman glaring at him from the ground.
"It's funny to see them acting that way isn't it?" When the man leaned down to pick her up by the collar, Claire picked up dirt and threw it into his eyes.
"He's human you bastard what the hell makes it funny?" She stood back up and kicked him in the knees. Sadly he didn't fall over but his balance did become unsteady. The man furiously rubbed the dirt from his eyes, which were now bright red.
"You bitch you have no right to attack me!" He moved to grab her by the collar but Sazh got back up and knocked his arm away.
"If she has no right then why do you?" He asked, quietly, but his anger was obvious.
"I can do whatever I want with her she's my fiancée." Yaag spat.
All he received was scowls, which made his mood worsen. He gave up on the idea of assaulting Claire again with the man in the way serving as protection, but he did have his weaknesses that he could exploit. He took a couple of steps back so he couldn't bat his arm out-of-the-way like before, and took out a gun neither had known was on him, and with a confident smile, pointed it at the child watching them with fearful eyes.
Sazh's eyes went wide, and he lost the ability to move, even his breathing became troubled. Claire watched Yaag with disbelief, he was insane! Pointing a gun at a child that had nothing to do with anything.
"Stop it!" She screamed at him, "He hasn't done anything you crazy bastard!"
"Or what?" Yaag frowned at her. He had beaten them into a corner and they knew it.
Claire looked up to Sazh; the man was frozen on the spot, visibly shaking. If he took a step to stop him, Yaag would pull the trigger before he was even half way there. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The psycho had them in a corner, and there was only one way out of it. She was going to regret this, but there was nothing else to do. She put on a calm expression, and took deep breaths to calm her mind.
"Put the gun down, I'll do whatever you want, just put it down." She got an instant reaction, Sazh turned around to her, his expressing screaming for her not to do it, not for a stranger. Yaag's was victorious.
He returned his gun to its holster hidden behind his suit jacket, and strolled up to the defeated looking woman. Her eyes were dark with anger directed to no one but herself, and Sazh's pained expression didn't plan to leave any time soon.
Yaag wrapped his finger around a loose stand of her hair, smiling smugly. "So you'll agree to be my fiancé?"
Claire turned her head away, feeling too sick in the pit of her stomach to look into his eyes. Sazh was silently begging with her to say no, he'd already put the gun back after all, but she knew if she was to refuse he'd bring it back out and shoot not only his son but him as well.
She felt like she was selling her soul to the devil. She lifted up her head, eyes confident and looked him right in the face.
"Yes."
My butt hurts...not good to sit on a bed for four hours straight. And after I wash up my sister's going to make me watch Vampire Knight, so more sitting down.
And if you did read the top authors note, you'll understand why reviewing is such a good idea right now, no one gave DL a review last update. How depressing it's my second most popular story! It gets over a hundred hits each chapter. But since I took the match ups off the description, this has been ten times more popular. Yeah, I got over 1000 hits last update, unfortunately I only got 2 reviews. My sister doesn't count.
2 out of 1000? NO wonder Ari is adamant on believing no one gives a shit about me.
Jya ne!
~Serah