I edited the chapter once so far. This one actually kind of continues the first chapter. There might be some continuity between chapters depending on how I feel going about this. I'm just sort of writing as I go and seeing what comes out. So far, so good, I guess. No promise that this will evolve into a full on story.
This chapter primarily deals with Florian getting to know the church and his caretakers while Anise is away. Somehow it reached the point about the play that happened in the game. I might do one more chapter similar to this about them playing tag... Depends on where my muse takes me. :P
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*~A Happy Home~*
Anxious wasn't quite a strong enough word to describe the feeling, but it was the only one Florian knew to describe his fluttering heart and fidgeting hands. Trithiem had been attempting to explain the basic yet intricate workings of the Order of Lorelei. The Fon Master replica already knew most of it from Mohs' training and much of the lecture was needless review. However, the green haired boy had yet to find the courage to interrupt his guide to explain this. He mostly kept his gaze on the ancient maestro or the ceilings and walls, trying to avoid seeing the people around them. Most were mere clerics and acolytes that stared and whispered between each other. Different accounts of rumors had been circulating surrounding the boy's origins and purpose. Some watched him in utter shock, but every now and then he would see a flicker of hate or disgust for the replica.
They all knew Ion, the Ion they loved, was dead now. This boy couldn't pretend to be the Fon Master in the eyes of the church even if he wanted. Whether there had been a formal announcement to the crowds outside or not was unknown. The outside world didn't matter much now to Florian. When the doors of the cathedral were shut, there was only the cathedral. He knew there was an outside. He had been out there himself at one point. But the world was easier for him to understand if he shrunk it down to the inside of the church. Once someone left the building, they had left the world as far as he was concerned unless they were a short, feisty pigtailed girl named Anise.
His dark jade eyes darted longingly out a nearby window against his will, wishing he could catch a sight of the Albiore's silhouette against the blue sky. Only clouds again today. Dejected, he turned his attention back to Trithiem's tour of the facility to notice that they had stopped. The old man had his hand on an intricately designed door constructed from the finest stained oak Daath's forest had to offer. He lingered there contemplating as though once one chose to cross the threshold of the room there was no turning back. Florian waited with a child's patience. He glanced away and shifted on his feet, looking back frequently to make sure he hadn't missed anything during his period of failed attention span. The sudden intake of breath from Trithiem alerted him the old man had made his decision and the door quietly swayed open.
"This," the old man began, pausing to sweep his hand over the dimly lit and spacious room for emphasis, "is the Fon Master's room." Florian had started to creep closer to look inside, but stopped just as suddenly as if bumping into an invisible barrier. The boy felt a shiver run up his spine and his heart beat faster. Warily he watched Trithiem to see if his body language would betray any of his intentions. The maestro's eyes gazed deeply into the room, but more likely he wasn't actually admiring the large desk, luxurious chair, fireplace or even the bed that took up most of the room. He seemed very far away at the moment and that frightened Florian more than whatever the man had plotted. Trithiem was no Anise, but he had been gentle if not kind to the boy. Florian didn't want to be left alone. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out to grab the maestro's arm, eyes wide with concern and fear.
"Mm?" Trithiem gave a start as he glanced back at the child in his care. He paused a beat before softening his expression into a weak smile, "Oh, are you trying to comfort me?"
"You seemed…" Florian paused to cycle through his vocabulary for an adequate description, "... like you were going away." Trithiem blinked at him before chuckling and tenderly ruffling the replica's hair.
"I was merely remembering the past," he said, "I have served several Fon Masters so this room has quite a few memories for me. Have no fear. I will ensure that you are well cared for." Florian nodded quietly, letting go of Trithiem's arm and easing away from the maestro as he looked over the room.
He duly noted the shelves of books and creature comforts of the room, but somehow, for all its grandeur, it did not appeal to him. He mused over how his predecessor must have used this room as if it were his own. He could almost see the shadowy reflection of a replica busying about acting the role they were born to play. Two years ago this had belonged to the real Ion as well. How many times had the original been replaced? Was the last replica the only one who had used the room since Ion's death or had there been more? Did it even matter how many had been sacrificed for the Score? Replicas were expendable, after all. Although, Florian mused, that must have meant the original had been as well once his replacements were created. Perhaps everyone was expendable to some degree. But that begged the question of who decided a person's worth.
"Florian," Tritheim interrupted the boy's thoughts, waving him to come closer to a wardrobe in the corner. Florian did not want to venture further into the room. As far as he was concerned it was hallowed and forbidden. He remained near the door frame as he chewed over his options. When he saw a frown on the maestro's face, the boy panicked and quickly decided it was best to follow orders than risk angering anyone. His steps were swift and cautious, barely making a noise as he crossed the distance between the door and the wardrobe. Satisfied, Tritheim opened the wardrobe to reveal several ceremonial robes all Florian's size. "For now, I would like to ask that you wear these."
"These are Ion's," Florian observed softly, "Not Florian's…" Tritheim hesitated and glanced back at the boy's simple statement, wondering if there was any further meaning behind it. The concerned, naïve look in the replica's eyes told him the boy meant no harm or accusation.
"I believe Ion would be happy to let you wear them," the maestro soothed, "He was a very generous young man…"
"Which Ion was?" Florian asked, voice still soft, but the words cut into Tritheim at the reminder of what Mohs had done. He sighed shakily and closed his eyes as he tried to pull together an answer for the boy. It still sickened him how the Fon Master's name had been defiled and the Order's leader replaced by Van's puppets.
"The one I cherished," Tritheim finally answered. Florian mused over that answer for a moment before nodding. He didn't fully understand the meaning, but doubted Tritheim could explain further from the look on the man's face.
"Then I will wear Ion's clothes," Florian agreed, "But I am not Ion." Tritheim chuckled weakly at the boy's continued insistence that he was not the Fon Master. Internally he wished that, despite the heresy of it all, they could simply put Florian in Ion's clothes and pretend nothing had ever gone wrong. Ignoring the truth would be easier than facing it all and changing. However, he knew that the lies had gone far enough and he only hoped that Van would end the suffering he had caused so they could rebuild the Order and damaged kingdoms.
Florian awkwardly tugged his brown robe off his body. He had never properly dressed himself before, but imagined the first step would be to remove the ones he was wearing. When he found his arms were twisted in the cloth and his head stuck, he let out a panicked noise somewhere between a whimper and a wail as he struggled.
"Hold still," Trithiem ordered as he moved over to help, alarmed by how helpless the replica was. He had never cared for a child before. Ion had always been very self sufficient, but Florian barely had any coordination above a toddler. He carefully yanked the gritty clothes off the replica, noting tears in the dark green eyes. The maestro suddenly felt awkward himself. Ion had never cried before that he knew of, and the sulky expression seemed so out of place on the normally gentle, composed face he was familiar with. "You… are not hurt?" he asked.
"N-No…" Florian admitted soggily. Trithiem wasn't sure then why the replica was so upset. He fumbled for some sort of words of comfort for a child but had none.
"Then there is no reason for tears," he finally said, straightening himself to seem more regal and logical, "Dry your eyes and I will assist you in getting dressed." Florian hiccupped softly on the strange choking sensation in his throat threatening to burst out of him. The growing discomfort made him squirm and he couldn't ignore the mounting pressure in his chest. He didn't recognize himself as he began to wail out a sob, the tears slipping down his cheeks unhappily. Trithiem winced and took a step back in shock at the outburst of shameless sobbing. "Th-There is no need for that! Please, calm yourself at once!" he ordered more forcefully than he intended, but only succeeded to encourage louder sobbing.
"What is this here?" an aged, female voice inquired as a woman rounded the door frame. Her dark eyes widened in shock at the sight. "By the Score! Fon Master Ion?"
"No, Pamela, I'm afraid not," Trithiem said, flustered by the child's cries and unsure how to soothe them, "This boy is a replica Anise brought here for sanctuary."
"Goodness, he looks just like the Fon Master, doesn't he?" The dark haired woman moved forward, unfazed by Florian's sobs as she gently took the boy by his shoulders and encouraged him to turn into her bosom. "There, there, little one. What is all this fuss?" she soothed with the warmth and tenderness of an experienced mother. Florian instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her. He was too upset at the moment to care she was a stranger.
"He merely got his head stuck while removing his clothes," Trithiem said with a disapproving frown, not amused by the boy's childishness, "Then he started throwing this fit."
"Poor thing," Pamela soothed the replica, ignoring Trithiem's frustration for the moment, "That scared you, didn't it? I bet it was very scary to be stuck." Florian nodded against her before meekly glancing up at the woman and nearly choked in shock.
"A-Anise?" he asked, voice a bit raw where it wasn't used to making loud noises and crying. The woman smiled and chuckled softly.
"How sweet," she said, flattered that he would confuse her with the young girl for even a moment, "No, deary, I am Anise's mother. You may call me Pamela."
"Mother…?" Florian repeated the unfamiliar word, sniffling softly against his now runny nose.
"Here," Pamela said as she fished a kerchief from her pocket and placed it to his nose, "Now blow." Florian hesitated but did as instructed, startling himself when he felt something exit his naval cavity and relieve the pressure from his sinuses. The maternal woman chuckled at the awed look on his puffy face. "No more tears, ok?" Florian nodded quietly in agreement as she wiped some of the tear stains from his face. "That's better."
Trithiem was also in awe of Pamela. He had always found her and her husband to be well meaning, but horribly foolish people. He had thought Mohs only kept Pamela and Oliver in the church's service out of pure charity until recent events revealed otherwise. Either way, it had not been due to their usefulness even though they were kind and well liked among the clergy. However, now he was beginning to see a greater purpose and skill that he never thought he would require before from the Order's employment.
"Ok, hold your arms out straight," Pamela encouraged, having wordlessly taken over the job of getting Florian dressed. The boy obeyed pleasantly, smiling faintly at the woman as he held his arms out for her to pull the robe over. He felt another pang of fear grip him when he lost the ability to see until his head popped out the collar. His green hair was disorderly and puffed out against his will from the material's static. "There you are," Pamela half cheered as she tried to straighten his hair. The boy smiled faintly even as he felt his cheeks grow hot. "What a good boy."
Florian instantly liked Pamela. The way her eyes twinkled with delight at caring for him made the replica feel less like a burden. She seemed almost happy to have someone depend on her for the moment and it was comforting to think she was pleased by him. He examined her button nose and pouty smile that were so similar to Anise's that he nearly called her by the girl's name again. However, he now noticed the wrinkles and creases in her skin that weren't as deep as Trithiem's, but revealed a lack of youth. He imagined her dark hair was curly like Anise's when it wasn't up in a bun and wished she would take it down.
"I… I am Florian," the replica said shyly, "Anise named me."
"Florian? What a beautiful name," Pamela said as she helped the boy pull on the pants and shoes of the Fon Master. She smiled proudly and her eyes twinkled with pleasure again. "My little Anise is good at that sort of thing. She's a very clever little girl." Florian nodded in agreement even though he was not a good judge of intelligence himself.
"Pamela," Trithiem said paitiently, waiting until the woman stood and straightened herself properly before addressing him.
"Yes, Maestro Trithiem," she answered politely.
"As you know, there are many delicate matters I must attend to," Trithiem said, "Especially in these chaotic times; the Order of Lorelei must try to strengthen the people's hope."
"I couldn't agree more!" Pamela said almost wistfully as though the maestro had said the most profound thing she had ever heard, "Nothing will strengthen them more than the Score. It is our guide to happiness, after all."
"Yes, well," Trithiem said, noting a small quake of fear from the replica at the mention of the Score, "For now, we must do what we can. I must assist the other Maestros but I cannot leave young Florian to his own devices…"
"Oh, Oliver and I would be most overjoyed to take care of him," Pamela volunteered whole heartedly, "Please, allow us the privilege of helping you and Florian." Trithiem pretended to ponder his options as though it was a very grave matter of the utmost importance.
"Very well," Trithiem said with a quick nod, "I will entrust his well being and education to the Tatlin family." Pamela graciously bowed, clasping her hands in front of her.
"Oh, thank you for honoring us so!" Pamela said joyfully, "Yulia be praised!" The crafty Maestro nodded, masking his relief and straightening himself dignantly.
"Then, I will take my leave," he said, making his way across the room and exiting without giving Pamela or Florian a second look. Which was just fine with the young replica. He far from disliked Trithiem, but had quickly realized he was a burden on the maestro. Pamela, on the other hand, seemed completely enthused to be caring for him. He actually felt wanted by her.
"Oh, I must tell Oliver at once," Pamela said, straightening herself and keeping her hands clasped pleasantly in front of her. She moved over to Florian and took his hand in hers. "Would you mind coming with me to meet my husband? I would very much like for you to meet him." Florian blinked at the request. Normally he was told where to go and no one had ever asked before. Despite the fact it was a request, and he felt empowered to know that no was an option, he felt that he couldn't refuse this woman. He nodded and found himself smiling to match hers.
Florian allowed her to lead him by the hand, remembering when Anise had led him as well. Even though they had only been together for the briefest time, he felt as though the pigtailed girl was the most wonderful person he would ever meet. Her mother was also wonderful, and so her father must be as well. He imagined anyone named Tatlin had to be wonderful and he was very lucky to have met them. No one else mattered at that moment even though he noted somewhere in the back of his mind that the stares were back. He smiled despite them as he watched Pamela warm the halls like a summer breeze. Everything was much better now.
Pamela only stopped once they had reached the Tatlin home. It wasn't much compared to the rest of the church. Actually, compared to the rest of the church, it was nothing but a hole with beds and a table. Florian was reminded of the Albiore he had been brought in by Anise and how cramped it had been. Oddly it was more comfort to him than any of the brilliant statues and high decorated ceilings could ever be. His jade gaze was able to easily take in the entire home without feeling overloaded or intimidated by over stimulus. He hesitated before pulling away from Pamela, feeling bold enough to explore the area himself.
The matronly woman only smiled as she watched Florian. His movements were both awkward and delicate at the same time. She was saddened to think how much he looked like their precious Ion, but could already tell distinct differences in Florian. His face was unintentionally expressive and he wore every emotion on his sleeve unlike the ever pleasant and reserved Fon Master they knew. She wondered if Florian would mature to be like Ion or if he would become something entirely different. She honestly didn't understand much about replicas or how they grew, but Florian was a very sweet child, and her baby had grown up. It happened so fast that Pamela wasn't sure when Anise had shifted from child to family head. Even though Pamela was naïve, she could realize something was wrong when Anise was forced to support her family at such a young age, but didn't know how to fix it. She only hoped she could do better caring for Florian and somehow Anise would forgive her and Oliver for their ignorance. The woman lightly gripped her apron as she recalled when Mohs revealed that they had been the strings he was puppeting their daughter with. In the end it was poor, dear Ion who had paid the ultimate price for their stupidity. It was a sin that Pamela wasn't sure even Yulia would forgive them for, but hoped to redeem herself through Florian. Suddenly two arms were around her waist and pulled the petite woman back against another body. She gasped and whipped her head around for fear of danger.
"Hello, dear," Oliver said, taking advantage of her shock to steal a quick kiss. The woman relaxed and flustered at the same time.
"Do not scare me so!" Pamela scolded, "Haven't we already been through enough without you giving me a heart attack?"
"The Score did not say you would die or be ill today," Oliver said with a chuckle, "It shall be a good day."
"It shall indeed," Pamela agreed before gesturing gently to the boy now cowering behind a shabby cupboard, "Come out, Florian. This is my husband, Oliver. He means no harm." The green haired boy meekly peeked out from his hiding spot to study the new arrival.
The man was also aged beyond his years with wrinkles similar to Pamela. His hair was neatly arranged and laid obediently flat against his head unlike Anise or Pamela. It was brown, but not nearly as dark as the rest of his family. He wore a dark green, long robe, but it had no ornaments or decoration indicating he was a peasant or very low level member of the Order. His eyes looked as though they were permanently tired, but Florian noticed the wrinkles were most creased around the corners of his eyes. For some reason, this man had spent most of his life smiling despite obvious hardships.
The boy slowly emerged, waiting for the man to react to him. Oliver's face went blank a moment as he took in the boy's appearance and clothing. A pin could have dropped and everyone would have heard in the following silence. His face slowly creased into a smile. "Goodness," he finally said, shattering the quiet, "What an unexpected blessing this is!"
Pamela smiled and leaned up to kiss her husband on his jaw, knowing he recognized their chance to redeem their past failures as well. "This is Florian," she said, "Maestro Trithiem has honored us with his care."
"Yulia has chosen to smile on us yet again," Oliver said happily as he moved over to the confused replica. Florian didn't think someone would accept him so easily or with such warmth. He hesitantly smiled. Anise's father was wonderful, too, like he thought the man would be. He felt a hearty hand firmly placed on his shoulder and looked up at Oliver. "Welcome, Florian. If there is ever anything you need, please let me know right away."
Florian nodded, mimicking Oliver's cheerful grin that was so much like Anise's. Somehow, the boy knew he would be happy with them.
Maestro Trithiem had originally planned for Florian to sleep in the Fon Master's room, but no matter how many times he left the replica there at night, somehow Florian found his way back to the Tatlin's home. For the first few days it sent him into a panic thinking he had lost the green haired child, but he eventually gave up even starting to look for the boy in his room and immediately went to Pamela to collect him in the morning for lessons. He was pleased to notice that Florian was gradually learning proper manners and responses rather than quietly nodding his acceptance. Recently, Florian had made a point of saying, "Good morning," and, "Good night," to Trithiem as though he thought neglecting to do so would result in a bad experience for the maestro. It was endearing despite its childishness and he found himself accepting it as an integral part of his day. Eventually, he stopped taking Florian back to the Fon Master's room all together and simply returned him to Oliver and Pamela. The replica wouldn't stay put and he knew that the Tatlins had all but fallen in love with the child. It soothed their loneliness over Anise's absence and in turn Florian seemed most at ease in their presence.
The only problem now was what to do with the vacant Fon Master's room and the Order was becoming more and more aware of the equally vacant position that so desperately needed to be filled. But not just anyone could become Fon Master. The power to use Daathic Artes and reading of Yulia's Score had to be taken into account. Which, much to his own discomfort, he had quickly realized Florian was capable of as Ion's replica. Trithiem was as reluctant as Florian was to have the boy fulfill his purpose as a replacement Fon Master. Florian was still so helpless and dependent on others, he couldn't lead. More than that, Trithiem feared treading the dangerous line that Grand Maestro Mohs had dared to cross.
Florian was happy with Pamela and Oliver, especially now that he had unofficially moved in with them. He was placed in Anise's bed, but was ever so careful not to disturb any of her things. He didn't want to give her a reason to be angry with him when she returned. She had promised to return, after all, and he would wait patiently for her. He had learned keeping himself busy made him think less about his missing friend and was grateful for Trithiem's lessons that took up most of his day. Studying was a good distraction, but every now and then he would find himself staring out the window waiting for a plane to land outside the city walls. Pamela and Oliver had encouraged him to go outside as long as he stayed on the church grounds to play, but he had no playmate, which he quickly realized was necessary for him to have fun. It only made his loneliness for Anise worse.
His presence in the church was slowly being accepted even though it wasn't entirely appreciated. Florian had quickly learned who to avoid and strictly kept himself from venturing beyond permitted areas. The replica continued to wear ion's robes with Trithiem's insistence that they had nothing else for him at the moment. Florian found that odd where he had read about tailors who usually lived in large cities, and Daath seemed like a large enough city to have one, from what he understood. There was no reason not to trust Trithiem's judgment so he accepted it as true despite the oddity. As long as he was still Florian and no one tried to change that, he was content to do whatever the maestro asked of him.
The green haired boy walked through the church with a slight skip to his step, smiling cheerfully like Oliver had taught him to. Since Oliver and Pamela said that the best thing to do was smile and accept difficulties as Yulia's test, he assumed that if he behaved cheerfully and smiled then eventually he could overcome the difficulty of others hating his presence. Cheerfulness required quite a bit of effort, though, and a great deal of optimism that luckily Oliver and Pamela were full of. He hoped that Yulia approved of his actions since she meant so much to the couple. He knew most of the legends surrounding her since it was a requirement of a Fon Master to be well versed in scripture, but he didn't fully understand its meaning no matter how well he could recite it. What he did understand was that Yulia made the Tatlins happy and so he liked her very much. Prayer had been a difficult thing to learn though. He found it hard to speak to someone he could not hear or see, but Pamela reassured him that Yulia could hear and see him. It seemed a bit unfair to him, but accepted it as one of Yulia's quirks.
Florian rounded a corner then quickly retreated back, recognizing some of the officials gathered in the library as Maestros. He cautiously peeked out, wondering if he could spot Trithiem among them and frowned faintly at the concern on their faces. It seemed they were dealing with a very serious matter.
"What do we do?" one man asked, "How can we turn those children away after the whole world has turned their backs on them?"
"They were promised the play about the first Fon Master turning the mischievous demon good… Those poor orphans have been looking forward to this for so long," the other said sadly, "The Fon Master himself was going to act in it. With him gone… How can we tell them the Fon Master died?"
"We have no choice, really," Trithiem said at last, making his presence known, "It would be worse to tell them that the Fon Master was going back on his word. Besides, I hear the actor for the demon is sick, too…"
"Poor things," another agreed unhappily, "They have so little to hope for in this chaotic time and now this. Some will surely lose hope." Florian gasped softly at that, having heard hope was necessary for optimism. Without optimism, how could anyone over come Yulia's challenges? He failed to calculate the silence of the hallway and how it made even the faintest of noises seem like thunder. The maestros were instantly alerted to the little spy. Trithiem's frown softened when he saw Florian's head duck shyly behind the corner.
"We know you're there, Florian," he said evenly, "Come out now." The replica obediently stepped out from his hiding spot, fidgeting briefly before summoning his courage to speak.
"Will the orphans really lose their optimism?" he asked, ignoring the confused looks it earned him from the others. Trithiem had grown accustomed to Florian's way of thinking and description so he quickly translated the boy's meaning.
"They will be very disappointed and very sad," the maestro explained, "They wanted to see Fon Master Ion badly. The Fon Master is a symbol of hope for many people and we no longer have one."
Florian chewed his lip, a habit he had picked up from Pamela. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then to the window for answers. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed a familiar shadow. Without thinking he ran to the glass, pressing his hands and upper body against it as though somehow it would aid his visibility while he strained his neck upward. He barely caught it, but that was definitely the tail of the Albiore flying over head. "Anise…" he breathed out happily, face brightening as he turned back to the maestros, "I… I want to help! I'll… I'll pretend to be the Fon Master for the orphans' play."
"Y-You would?" Trithiem was startled that Florian would ever be bold or assertive enough to agree. Especially where the boy had done nearly everything in his power to avoid being called or associated with Ion. At the affirming and determined nod he received, Trithiem smiled weakly. "We would appreciate it, Florian."
"You're welcome…" Florian muttered bashfully before turning and running down the hall. He needed Anise for this. He couldn't be bold and brave enough without her there to help. His heart pounded in protest against his ribs while he ran. His body wasn't used to physical exertion of any sort, but he ignored it for the moment. Brushing past clerics and acolytes, he burst into the main hall, eyes darting around until he finally caught sight of the pink girl and her companions. Florian felt every inch of his body fill with joy and excitement to see his precious friend. "Anise!" he called before he had even reached her, running to the girl as fast as his legs would carry him, "Anise! Help me!"
Anise turned at her name and had started to greet him, but was frozen at the sight of the boy. She nearly sputtered out Ion's name, but quickly caught herself. She tried to wrap her mind around why Florian was wearing the Fon Master's robes. His cry for help snapped Anise out of her stupor so suddenly that she nearly panicked herself at the tone of his voice.
"Wh-wh-what is it?" she demanded, gripping Tokunaga with one hand in case an enemy popped out, "What's wrong, Florian?"
"We need someone to play the role of the mischievous demon!" Florian blurted out with the same urgency as if he was delivering news of an attack against all of Daath. Anise felt her expression go blank as her mind scrambled for a reason why this would concern her. At the lack of response, Florian felt the need to further justify the problem. "Otherwise, we can't do anything at all!"
"The mischievous demon?" the regal girl Florian recognized from the Radiation Gate turned her curly blonde head to the others for answers, brows knit slightly in confusion over her hazel eyes. Florian kept his attention on Anise though while the others discussed just who was most appropriate to be called a demon. He had managed to catch his breath, but for some reason his heart was still fluttering. He was so happy to have his friend back he wished to go hug her, but had been taught that uninvited hugs were not appropriate. Without him knowing it, Pamela was suddenly at his side.
"Florian," she began then paused when she noticed her daughter had returned home and smiled brightly, "Oh, my! Anise, you've come at the perfect time!"
"What is it, mama?" Anise asked warily, having a bad feeling from Florian's first outburst it was bound to be something ridiculous. Especially if her mother was enthusiastic, too. Pamela began to explain the situation of the play, reminding Florian of his important mission. He just knew that Anise would help them save the orphans. Anise was the bravest, most wonderful person he knew, after all. He didn't understand the jibes and snickers of the others in the group, but none of them really mattered at the moment.
"Anise," Florian said in a soft, but clear voice. It instantly had her complete attention and he was pleased to have it. He smiled at her. "I'm playing the role of the first Fon Master." He saw a strange emotion in her eyes, but continued. "I make the mischievous demon a good person. Come on, let's do it together!"
Anise made an uncertain noise as she squirmed, less than thrilled that her companions would see her do such an embarrassing thing, but impressed by how brave Florian was to even ask her. When they first met he had been so meek and pitiful she thought he might fall and shatter if the wind blew too hard. She couldn't let his courage go to waste.
"I can't say no to that smile…" Anise admitted unhappily.
"Anise, come on, do it for them," Guy encouraged warmly, but Anise was confident he was also laughing at her on the inside. She would have her revenge later.
"Oh… Alright," she finally relented. The joyful smile that lit up Florian's face could have warmed the entire hall. Pamela also smiled, having been informed of the situation by Trithiem's assistant and gone to assist their little Florian, but it seemed he already had all the help he needed. She gently handed out the scripts to their actors so the pair could get to work.
Florian was notably more energetic with Anise around and his smile more natural. He moved to her side when given the opportunity and diligently began to read and memorize the play with her. He noticed that Jade and the long haired girl in uniform left the group. Most likely they had some sort of official business to take care of so Florian paid them no mind. The elegant girl in blue began to wander about, admiring the art that decorated the church idly, but didn't stray far. There were only two presences that remained and began to loom over his and Anise's shoulders. He glanced back to see the loud, orange haired boy and Guy standing behind them.
"G… Good afternoon," Florian said, glancing at Pamela to assure himself he was using proper manners before grinning cheerfully at them. He received a smile in response from Guy.
"Hey there," he said, "You seem better than before." Florian nodded quietly before remembering himself and speaking outloud.
"Maestro Trithiem has been teaching me many things," he responded politely. The orange haired boy was quiet, studying Florian's reactions and words. Oddly, his examination didn't seem hostile to the young replica. Somehow, the child knew there was an unspoken understanding between them.
"Meiu!" a high pitched squeal announced the sudden appearance of a strange, blue creature over the red haired boy's shoulder. The sound combined with a quick motion caused Florian to jump behind Anise for shelter.
"What are you doing, Meiu?" the redhead snapped, "You scared him!"
"I'm sorry, Master," Meiu squealed out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
"Luke, go easy on him," Guy said with a weak chuckle. Florian peeked out to see the redhead, Luke, was pulling the balloon like ears of the small creature to punish it.
"You guys are so annoying," Anise grumbled, twisting to fix the older youths with a glare, "Florian and I are trying to concentrate here!"
"Sorry, Anise," the two boys and odd creature chorused unhappily at being scolded. Satisfied they wouldn't give the pair anymore trouble, Anise turned her attention back to the script and Florian followed her example. The replica was just happy to have his friend here and the periodic bickering of her companions was strangely entertaining. He hoped one day all of them would come to stay for a very long time together like this.
The play was simple and easy enough for them to throw together before the orphans arrived. Anise knew it wouldn't matter even if they messed up. Kids that age would have been entertained by a meager puppet show. The only other humiliation she had to suffer was the costume her mother brought out to wear.
"You can't be serious! This is humiliating!" she ranted unhappily as she stepped out in the obscure outfit. Her companions did their best not to giggle at Anise, but even Florian could tell they agreed with her. The shirt was mostly black with pink trimming around the collar, ends of the torso and sleeves; all of which were jaggedly cut. A diamond shape was missing in the middle, exposing her tan tummy and belly button. Her shorts looked like someone had slipped a pink pumpkin around her waist and some dark clothe was attached to the back so it gave the appearance of bat wings. Her look was finished off by skulls replacing her yellow bows and another one tucked against the collar. She shifted unhappily in her black shoes and knee high, black and white stripped stockings, placing her hands on her hips as she challenged anyone to laugh at her.
"I think it's… cute," Florian said softly. Anise blinked as she glanced over at the naïve boy. There was no hint of mockery as he met her eyes. He had a tiny smile on his lips, but it was an honest, genuine smile for her. Sigh sighed, wanting to be irritated by it, but he was so sweet that she couldn't help being soothed a bit.
"Let's just get this over with," Anise grumbled as she led the way to the makeshift stage. She took her place and waited for the collected orphans to settle down. She felt her stomach clench with mild stage fright even though she knew messing up didn't matter. Her eyes narrowed when she noted the entire adventuring group had assembled in the back to watch, but tried to ignore them as she started her lines. Internally she began to worry that Florian might get scared and run away at this point. If even she felt nervous, what was that shy little replica going though?
"It's not right to do things like that," Florian said as he walked on the stage, his voice as clear and pure as a bell in her ears. Anise was startled by the complete lack of fear or hesitation and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her heart nearly stopped as she watched the boy step on stage. His back was straight and dignified, every move he made graceful and elegant as he smiled pleasantly at her. He was so reserved and confident in that moment Anise nearly choked on her next line. She wasn't looking at Florian anymore; she was looking at the Fon Master. Florian waited patiently for her next line, his smile both comforting and cryptic. She had no idea what he was thinking and it unnerved her how the expressive boy could suddenly switch entirely.
Finally, she stated her next line, trying to ignore the horrible familiarity in the way Florian spoke and moved as the play continued. So many questions whirled through her mind as her body acted automatically according to the script. How could Florian know how to so perfectly mimic Fon Master Ion? Were all the replicas trained to behave like this? Was the Ion she knew really Ion himself or just a replica performing his role for everyone's benefit? Had it all been some strange act he put on? Surely, at some point, he had become himself. Surely that sweet, gentle Ion was truly a kind person and not just a puppet on a string. He had died for his own reasons, not for Mohs' cruel plan. There was no way she could accept that her Ion may have been nothing more than a rebellious doll. Although there were times when Ion seemed so distant she couldn't even touch him. There were times when his smile was cryptic and he had hidden so many cruel truths about himself from her. Did she ever truly understand Ion and his struggles? Perhaps she had been far too arrogant thinking that she knew him so well.
Florian noticed something was odd about Anise, but ignored it for the sake of the orphans. He had never seen small children before. The way they watched him with such admiration and love made him feel self conscious. So, this was what it was like to be a Fon Master in front of his followers? It was nice, in a way, and he could see why one could enjoy the role. Being adored was much better than the cold looks he got in the hallways. However, he knew that he didn't want this role no matter how benefiting it could be. To be a Fon Master meant reading the Score. The hairs on his arms and legs stood on end at the memory of how much his body burned with every word. His predecessor must have suffered that pain so many times.
He barely noticed when the play ended and the children clapped happily. He was pleased with their cheery faces, but wasn't sure that they had done a good enough job to deserve the praise. Florian refrained from shifting uncomfortably as he took his bow, maintaining the regal and pious air of a proper Fon Master for their sake.
Anise was gone from the stage now since her character had died in the play and he wanted to retreat back to see her, but he quickly found himself surrounded by the children asking him questions and touching his robes. Florian flushed softly as he tried to maintain his composure. After all, it wasn't him they wanted. It was Master Ion they needed to give them hope.
He laughed softly at the children, being careful with them and tenderly comforting the little ones with bits of scripture that he felt was applicable to their problems. Honestly, he felt that he could tell them the sky was purple and they would have believed it from the way they hung on his every word. He was glad that Pamela had taught him how to be gentle and Oliver told him what kindness was. It made playing the part of the benevolent Fon Master much easier. Although, one question plagued him.
"I hope you don't mind me asking a strange question of you now," he said as gently as possible, "What is an orphan?" The children looked at him in confusion before a bold little boy with dark blue hair spoke up.
"An orphan is someone who doesn't have a mommy or daddy," he said, "Our families are gone." Florian chewed over that information for a moment before smiling at them.
"Did you know that I'm an orphan, too?" he asked as if he was sharing a secret with them. The children gasped in awe at the similarity between themselves and the Fon Master. He nodded in confirmation. "I don't have a mother or father, either." He said, ignoring the part that he never biologically had one to begin with. "But… a family is a group of people who love and care for you… right?" The children nodded in confirmation of Florian's assumption.
"Then, I think… maybe… I have a family," he said, glancing in the direction of Pamela who had been watching over him from the back of the cathedral. The other adventurers had retreated to greet Anise, he assumed. "They found me. We're not related… I don't call them mommy or daddy, but I'd like to think they're my…" He felt his voice shift to his more soft spoken and hesitant tone before quickly recovering. He smiled confidently for the children. "I'm sure you'll find families, too. After all, you've already found each other, right? Don't lose hope, ok? You have to be optimistic to overcome Yulia's challenges." The little ones smiled. Their eyes brightened with awe and hope that they, too, could rise and become like the Fon Master they so admired.
"Oh, Florian…" the maternal woman whispered softly. Pamela felt a tear come to her eye as she listened to Florian speak to the children, clasping her hands lightly over her chest. "Yulia has truly sent us a sweet miracle…"
Ok, children, that's enough!" their caretaker called, "It's time to go home!" This was met with objections and whines from the children. To soothe them, Florian told them they could come and visit again sometime. This was greeted by an array of cheers that caused his ears to ring as their high pitched squeals broke the sound barrier, but he smiled. Perhaps, every now and then, he could pretend to be Fon Master. Just for a little while.
He watched the organized chaos of children and caretaker retreat, all yelling back their thanks and farewells. Florian just sat passively and waved at them with a gentle smile. When the door shut he sighed and slumped back against the stage, knowing it was safe to be Florian again. He noted the approving look Pamela gave him and blushed bashfully. Once she had retreated from the room to see the children off, he stood and quietly made his way out the backstage.
"… and Mieu got all the applause in the end," Anise had just finished complaining about the whole ordeal to her companions. Mieu seemed to take that as praise for some reason.
"But I was happy when you protected me," Florian said softly, blushing when everyone turned to look at him suddenly. Anise hesitated as she wracked her brain for what he was talking about before remembering the devil in the play's sacrifice to save the first Fon Master.
"That was just part of the story," Anise said slowly, relieved to see Florian being himself again. She felt some of her tension relax even though the experience left her with much to think about later in regards to Ion, Florian and what it meant to be a replica.
"But I was happy," Florian said again, feeling shy under her confused gaze. Somehow, he assumed he wasn't communicating his feelings well, but it was the best he could manage. Anise finally laughed awkwardly at him.
"Oh, well," she said dismissively, seeming to have decided that it was worth the embarrassment if it made Florian happy, as strange as it was. She and the others laughed together and Florian found himself chuckling quietly as well. Even if he lacked the ability to thoroughly explain himself and the complexities of his feelings surrounding the church that had taken him in, he was happy. Very happy, indeed.
Yar. This is a lot longer than I intended it to be.