Author's Notes: AbCarter- Great advice, to a tee. I appreciate the honesty. I have done some minor editing to the previous chapters and will keep it in mind for future writing.
Chapter theme: "Anthem of the Angels" by Breaking Benjamin. "Anthem of the Angels," Breaking Benjamin, and Dear Agony are the property of Breaking Benjamin and Hollywood Records.
***
Of the assembled party members, Tia was the closest to motionless, the only movement made by her the steady rise and fall of her chest and the slow motion of her eyes following the orbit of the moon as she sat, perched upon a rock far from the comforts and heat of the fire. She welcomed the shadows that enveloped her, for they were her sanctuary, her shell of safety. The darkness was where she was most comfortable. Indeed, while the others may view it as oppressive, threatening, and dangerous, for the young archer, the flickering darkness was a sanctuary in which she could hide.
While her body remained still, her mind was far from it. The chill in the air that surrounded her was a minor inconvenience to the icy grip that the previous day's events had placed on her thoughts and emotions. Her resolve was battered by resounding feelings of fear, anger, horror, and vengeance. Tia's sister had been the only family that the girl had left; both parents had fallen in battle prior to the previous day. Dycedarg's actions had ultimately left Tia in a lost and insecure state, unsure of where to go or what to do.
Silently, she reflected on the relationship between the two siblings. They had grown up in a minor noble house, although the family had been gaining a steady flow of prestige due to the war and their faithful support of the Hokuten. The girls had spent their younger days playing in a garden and throwing rocks at boys, blissfully unaware of the events that were transpiring, the sheer destruction being wrought by the continuation of a conflict that had no purpose in existing at all. Of course, at the tender age of the time, neither would have been able to grasp the concept of the horrors that were to be witnessed by both sides.
The twins had been close throughout the entirety of their lives, despite varying degrees of interest in separate categories. Tia was always a tomboy, while her sister was a very prim and proper lady. Their support of Ivalice was even a sign to this simple fact; whereas Tia studied with monks and learned the arts of the bow, her sister learned how to make poultices and dull pain. She was a chemist, true, but not a battle chemist. Indeed, she never saw battle herself, only the aftereffects. At the end of the day, however, the two were still sisters, and their efforts after joining the military itself only made them grow closer, especially after the fall of both of their parents in battle.
Tia's mind turned now to Dycedarg's betrayal. When the girl had come upon the site, her eyes had remained closed to the other victims, for she had eyes only for the brutally treated corpse of her sister. She trusted Daryn and their band, and she had grown close to them, and even considered them friends. However, there was nothing – absolutely nothing – that would ever be closer to her than her sister. Thus, Tia had focused in on the cadaver before her, shocked, disbelieving. The one thing that was closer to her than any other had been torn from her grasp; her death was not even valiant, or for a good cause, nay, it was brutal, evil, twisted, and for the sole purpose of one man seeking to make the name of his family stand out all the more – despite that particular name already being far more powerful than any other in this particular force.
Tia was neither witness to the murder of Alyssa's father, nor to the bodies of the other nobles that had been betrayed. Dycedarg himself had only barely registered in her mind, and that wasn't until several hours after the event had occurred. Her vision was as a tunnel, her eyes only capable of seeing the broken and ravaged body of her sister. Even now, as other thoughts drifted through the archer's mind, that image was still omnipresent, as if burned into her eyes for all eternity. Nothing, she was certain, would ever scrub that image from her sight.
Silently, the girl reflected on the last time that she and her sister had spoken. It was the night prior to the battle; the morning of had consisted of preparation and little time could be spared for the comforts of family. The two had removed themselves from the company of others to share a few moments of family time. Her sister was all smiles and giggles, as usual. Her upbeat personality brightened the worlds of those around her. Tia had, as usual, said very little during their exchange, merely listening to her twin prattle on about her latest crush, blushing when Tia teasingly pointed out that that particular man had a rather firm ass, knowing full well what her sister's reaction would be.
This led to another chain of thought in the girl's mind. Tia had lost her virginity some time ago, after a bit of drink on one of the rare times that she had been given leave for a few days. Her other half, however, had remained chaste, although far from naïve. Her innocence knew no bounds, and the mere mention of sexual contact would send the girl teetering into fits of giggles and a fair amount of blushing. Tia, of course, took advantage of this at every moment.
The thought of the blushing face, trying to hold back a fit of nervous laughter, almost made Tia break her stoic fortitude of stillness. However, before a grin could crack her features, the image of the day prior exploded back into her thoughts, and the thought of her sister's forced removal of chastity caused Tia to flush with anger and hatred. It wasn't even just a simple rape; no, her sister had been crucified to the ground, raped, and then apparently fucked with a jagged blade from the sight that was open to all from between her legs. It was obvious that her death was not slow and painless, either; Tia could almost envision her cries of pain, pleading for Dycedarg to stop, attempting to appeal to some inner goodness that the girl had some intense and absurd notion that everybody possessed.
Tia knew better. The pretense may have even held some weight until yesterday, but now the archer was certain: Some people were just evil. Dycedarg happened to be one of them. How else could one justify the torture, rape, and murder of a fucking nurse other than by pure, tyrannical, unforgivable evil? What Dycedarg had done was not purely for the benefits of his family name; Tia might be able to understand a pragmatic approach of removing rivals. She sure as hell still wouldn't forgive the man for killing her sister, but that was at least within the realm of reasoning. What he did was horrible, unforgivable and… and… words could not even describe the sheer atrocity of what had occurred in that clearing.
Still, the archer sat as still as a statue, although now tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She did not sob, or convulse; she merely sat, one leg dangling off of the edge of the rock, the other knee brought close to her chest, both arms wrapped around the arched leg. Her eyes were lifted skyward, gray orbs staring at the moon. Those same eyes were now glistening with moisture, and silent streaks of salted water ran down her cheeks, forming small droplets at the curve of her jaw. The droplets hung for several moments before they began to drop staining the rock under her, droplets of lachrymal rain splattering across the stone surface.
Her sorrow remained unabated throughout the night, but she forced her thoughts to her current predicament. What was her next step? Tia could not singlehandedly slay Dycedarg Beoulve, not while the man had an army behind him, and her chances were uncertain even in single combat. Returning to the army would be fruitless and probably suicidal. Desertion would likely result in a similar fate. She pondered on Daryn for several moments, unsure of what their leader would decide. Ultimately, she decided, she would follow him. The assembled group was now the closest thing that she had to a family; they had forged a bond of blood and kinship that few would understand. She trusted in her commander and his decisions, for the knight had not led her astray yet, and even when she questioned his choices, he was ultimately in the right.
Of course, a decision such as this had never rested upon his shoulders. Would the path he chose, quite possibly in grief, be the correct one? That, Tia decided, was not for her to ascertain. She would follow Daryn, no matter how destructive the chosen course seemed. She trusted in him, and she would follow him.
The archer was slightly amazed at how easily that decision had come. Given the circumstances, she would have thought her reactions to be much harsher, and indeed she would have assumed that she would place blame an any person she could, with Daryn being the most likely candidate, a figure she could lash out at with relative ease. Of course, one can never predict how one will react to a situation until they are put into said situation. In the end, Daryn was a wise leader, and a dear friend. In these dark times, she could not betray that.
Fuck Daryn. Even now, he kept her from anger.In any case, whatever his choice was, she would follow. In all honesty, she needed him. She thought of their first battle. She had broken down afterwards, the eyes of a dead man haunting her vision. The knight had comforted her, and helped her through the internal battles she was dealing with. He was a solid foundation for her to lean against when necessary, and this was one of the times. Fuck you, Daryn.
Tia was mildly surprised as the sun broke the horizon, spraying beams of brightness into her sanctuary, breaking the shadows that she was hiding in. Cursing silently, she turned to see Alyssa stirring from her slumber. The rest of the camp had begun moving, a readily practiced breakdown of the camp already beginning to take form. She turned away only long enough to wipe the precipitation from her cheeks before retrieving her bow. Walking to the fire, she kicked some dirt onto it, smothering the flame, and then joined the rest of the group in what little preparation was necessary. Her grey eyes turned to their leader, and she could read his face easily; he was still uncertain as to his decision. As their eyes locked, she gave him a slight nod, slowing her work, if only to give him a few more minutes of respite. After all, he needed a pillar as well.