CHAPTER EIGHT

Pretending is for Children

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MANY things can change within a single moment – a life can be taken, a baby born, a nation could fall, or just a change in mood. Every day there is an every moment when someone realizes something they hadn't before. Whether a small notion or a revelation, it becomes important and even disturbing, to the one it happens to.

The moment Yuna had a realization was while she was lying in her bed following the exciting and chaotic events of the Spring Celebration. After sneaking back into the village and into her bed, she lay there awake – listening to the talk drifting through the thick blanket swept over the dwelling entrance. The villagers' disgruntlement about the intruders somehow sent a flicker of anger in the girl's chest that she quickly suppressed.

When there raised a clutter, Yuna almost got up to go and see what had happened now. Her instincts however, told her to remain still, and she closed her eyes quickly as light fell into the room as the blanket was swept aside. A large shadow loomed over her, and Yuna attempted to make her breathing faint. The last thing she wanted was to be questioned.

When darkness quickly spread again, Yuna still didn't open her eyes. It was so much easier to just pretend.

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Perhaps if he had given it more thought, Vaan would have realized what the sudden change in Penelo's attitude had meant, or inspired from. However, the youth resolved to his own troublesome situations as he could only present his stepfather with half the wad of quickly strapped receipts.

With skin-slumped hands, Migelo snatched them from Vaan with a shaky hand and pulled them to his nose. The Bangaa's beady eyes studied the small, scrawled print on the squares of paper like a bat in daylight. After a minute pass, the Bangaa shook the papers over his head, saying in an angry, gruff voice, "Where's the rest of them?!"

Cringing slightly at the rise in volume, Vaan gestured towards the papers, replying, "Not all the buyers would sign. I had a lot of rounds."

At this, the Bangaa sighed and lowered his massive bulk onto a small stool in the crowded store. The wood splintered beneath him, but Migelo paid it no mind.

Times truly are difficult, Vaan noted with a grimace. Releasing a sigh himself, the youth stated quietly, "I'll find us the money." The Bangaa just shook his head at this – at a loss for words as his mind strung up the numbers.

Without looking up, Migelo questioned, "Where's Penelo?"

"Drawing in gil in the square still." His stepfather only nodded again. Even with the amount of money that Penelo brought in during these festivities, the Empire's taxes were straining them – as well as the rest of Rabanastre. It was just never enough.

Releasing himself from the bending stool with a scuffle, Migelo raised his gaze to Vaan, and pulled at his arm. Dropping some coins into the lad's hand and curling it into a fist, the Bangaa told him, "Find yerself something good."

Vaan looked in confusion at the Bangaa. He wasn't sure what to say. Taking the money would mean that he was taking away from their saving fund, but Vaan had also spent the whole day running around for Migelo. There were things that Vaan had eyed and noted to take. However, Migelo and Penelo greatly disagreed with Vaan's methods of getting back at the Empire.

Deciding he would rather not get the Empire soldiers involved, and Migelo into any more trouble, Vaan nodded and dropped the few gold coins into his pants pocket. Migelo nodded him towards the door, and the youth strode towards it reluctantly. Pausing with his hand on the warm knob, Vaan glanced back at the humid appeal of the item store. The shelves were always stacked with various items from all across Ivalice – books, trinkets, potions, accessories, and several other strange objects.

With a sigh, Vaan turned the knob and strode into the darkening depths of sundown on Rabanastre. He could at least find something small to buy, and pretend that the money spent didn't matter.

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Tolerance is being able to look at something disliked or disapproved of, and being able to say nothing about it. For too long, Penelo had stood to one side as she watched Vaan pilfer from the Empire soldiers. It wouldn't be long before the youth was caught and jailed.

He better not expect me to get him out, Penelo thought heatedly as she packed her things up from the final dance of the day. The streets were already emptying as visitors either left for their homes in nearby lands, or cluttered the scattered inns. Lights began to blink out across town one by one. It was the sign for Penelo to return home.

Bidding her fellow band members good night, the girl swung her bulging bag over her shoulder and strode down the cobblestone street. The faint sounds of crickets, closing doors, and far-off voices made her smile. They were familiar and calming – reassuring that life continued around her. This was the side to Rabanastre, which Penelo loved. She remembered sitting on her father's strong, broad shoulders as he skipped down the night street with her – laughing joyously at the feeling of him just being around.

But it's not like that anymore, Penelo reminded herself with a light grimace. To dwell too long in a dream meant to never wake up. Reality may not have been pretty, but there was no sense in trying to bend it into an illusion.

Maybe that was why Vaan stole from the Empire. He was creating a small rebellion in his own way to try to change things in Rabanastre. Penelo didn't blame him for wanting a better life for the city, but the way he was going about it was dangerous and foolish.

A sudden prickle on the back of her neck, made Penelo slow her pace. Casting a weary gaze to either side of the street, she expected to see someone lingering outside perhaps for a smoke of their pipe. When nothing stirred, she relaxed a little, but quickened her stride. Bandits surely snuck in with the rest of the tourists, and with how much had made during the day, Penelo didn't want to risk anything. At that moment, she wished dearly that Vaan were with her – that they hadn't fought and he would be walking her home as he did almost every night.

So consumed in thoughts of the differences of other nights and the events earlier that day, Penelo never saw the figure stepping out, and didn't feel the dart pricking her neck as she fell to the ground – already unconscious.

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Pirates are harmless.

Generally.

They normally don't kidnap or take from those who can't give.

Usually.

Despite their outward appearance, Pirates are really just outcasts looking for a new way of living.

Sometimes.

A Pirate will do what he can to be what he can.

Always.

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Struggling against the ropes only made them cut into the flesh harder. Sore hands clasped together, all the fourth son of Gramis could do was pray to the gods for a way out of this situation. The unsteady rocking suggested he was stowed on a ship. The blindfold tied tightly around his eyes made it impossible for Larsa to slip off. Indistinct voices made him shift uneasily as the sound of approaching footsteps paused. A rush of wind followed a creak, and the distinct roar of the ocean filled the lad's ears.

There was a lingering sense of tension in the two men's voices as they stood nearby – perhaps on watch duty. Their language was foreign but with familiar syllables. There were a few keywords he could make out, including the terms 'Archades' and 'Spira'.

Did these imposters know who he was? Was that why they had kidnapped him? To prevent the alliance between the two worlds? Larsa couldn't imagine why someone would want to do that. There was so much conflict – wouldn't it be better if Ivalice and Spira worked together?

Evidently, not everyone thought the same way.

Hearing the footsteps stray now, dread drifted over the youth. In an anxious voice, Larsa called out to the retreating men, "Wait, stop! Please, let me go. I'll—"

The door closed and the sounds of the ocean and distant voices were cut off. Larsa sat in the small space quietly now. His back hurt from the hunched position he was forced into. He couldn't feel walls on any side, but his hands brushed against spindly rope. The ends pricked his fingers, making Larsa wince lightly as he stopped shifting.

As tears crept to his closed eyelids, Larsa thought of Vayne and what his brother's rage would be at his kidnapping. He thought of his father – lying sick in bed, hardly able to move or speak without his body being wracked by the terrible disease he carried. Larsa could have pretended, and tell himself everything would be all right, but pretending was for children.

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Inspired Music: "Just a Kid" by Simple Plan