Desert Blooms - A Clear Shot

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The musket seemed to leap from Alma's grip as she fired into the grainy gusts, the sand and smoke striking her eyes and obscuring the small, white flower she was trying to draw a bead on. The arid dunes of Zeklaus flowed like ocean waves, and she almost felt sick from staring at the blazing sun coasting just above the hilltops. Behind her, Mustadio Bunanza lent a steady hand to guide her aim, positioning the gun properly over her shoulder. Her skirt flapped behind her with the wind and was entangling itself in the young man's legs, adding a touch of embarrassment to the whole situation, especially since her brother Ramza was likely nearby.

BLAM! Alma's next shot went far awry, and she gasped as she struggled to hold onto the rifle stock. "Whoa, Alma!" Mustadio laughed, securing the girl and bringing the barrel back down towards the horizon. "A little bit jumpy, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, Mustadio," she responded, instinctively shifting her diction to that which she used with her teachers. "The winds seem too harsh to get a good view."

"Feh!" The ponytailed engineer scoffed, and Alma could almost feel him shaking his head with disdain. "I've popped off a tin can from a hundred feet in a thunder storm. If you're anything like your brother, you can hit that flower. You're just distracted, is all."

"I suppose so..." she relented, lowering her gaze slightly to stare at her boots.

In truth, it was just as Mustadio said. Alma's thoughts occupied her like a Death Corps raid, and just about as troublous and discontented. The land of Ivalice was split in two, and she had dashed from Zeltennia Castle in a burst of impassioned energy to aid her brother in ending this war. Alma had even kissed Ramza on his very lips a few nights ago, a close shave with an enemy bringing out feverish concern in the form of romantic intimacy.

Her musing must have escaped through her ears, for Mustadio gave her a sympathetic look, pacing off towards the thorny underbrush. "Alma, you've got to ignore everything other than what's in front of you," the young man stated, leaning against some large cacti, then jerking back up with an 'ouch'. "Don't bother with the details so much."

"It's just so much has happened lately," Alma confessed, smoothing her skirt down as it threatened to blow up above her knees. "Brother has rebelled against the church, which taught me all I know about living as a woman of this age. Truthfully, it's confusing."

"You can't trust a singular institution to show you how things really are, especially not one allied with the government," he told her, pulling out his own rifle and popping open the chamber. "I'm an atheist, so I know of the lives that drift under the nose of the church. It's completely foreign to the likes of Igros nobility."

"A life without spirituality?" Alma pondered, recalling the old sermons that specifically branded such thought as blasphemy.

"Or any life you choose, depending on how you figure things." Mustadio shrugged. "The truth is that there's all sorts of ideologies competing in the mechanisms of Ivalice, almost six separate denominations just for Ajora alone, all different from each other. Each will tell you a different side, with none laying claim to the complete picture. You just have to ignore all that, line up your shot, and take aim for what you know is right."

"I never knew..." Alma put her hand to her mouth, awestruck at the engineer's sudden bout of intuition. It was true that she was trying to reconcile her lessons with the contradictory knowledge she had learned from Ramza only a week prior, while simultaneously struggling with her budding feelings for him. But what of the people whom lived underneath the white icing she regularly partook off, who might be all the more knowledgeable for it?

(Could it be true...that I don't know anything about Ivalice?)

Upon hearing the sudden rustling of sand to her left, Alma shook off her contemplation to find Ramza approaching her steadily. He had apparently been watching from just behind a rock cropping, and she once again held down her skirt in the wind to regain feminine modesty in front of her brother. (Though maybe he's more than my brother now,) she thought with a blush, wondering just what he thought of her body.

"Mustadio is right, Alma," Ramza was saying, stopping just two feet shy of her position. "As we head to Orbonne, I'm plagued with doubts every day, doubly so since you're now in danger. But I know what I saw back at Fort Zeakden, and I know what I must do. I must fight what I now know are lies, and make amends for my failings that day."

"Oh Ramza, I know." Alma turned to him with a swish of her skirt. "I just fear I don't understand dear Ivalice like I thought I did!"

"But you love your brother, right?" Mustadio chimed in, moving over to Ramza's side and making a motion as if presenting a prize. "That's knowledge from deep inside."

At this, Ramza smiled one of his rare smiles. "We love each other," he clarified, gripping Alma's shoulder confidently. "That's enough for us, and for Ivalice."

"Brother Ramza..." Alma whispered, a pink flush rising again on her cheeks.

Ramza said nothing, but moved behind her and placed his hands on her forearms. Alma's breath caught in her throat, and she wondered just what he was attempting with her (in front of Mustadio even!) She soon relaxed, though, when she realized he was readjusting her grip on the rifle. Soon, they had pulled the weapon up to bear, focused once more on the single flower that still awaited her next try.

"Don't concentrate on the glare from the sun," Ramza instructed, his husky breath tickling her earlobes. "Just box the flower in your head, and make a clear shot."

Alma took security in her brother's body heat, and was reminded of many a cold night with him in the castle Igros, sharing a blanket over a warm mug. Overcoming her jitters, she slowly positioned the sight over the flower, closed one eye, and tightened her finger on the trigger.

BLAM! The dunes ahead were pockmarked with a small puff of smoke, and the flower burst into a kaleidoscope of blackened petals, which scattered off in the wind until they were indistinguishable from the dirt and debris.

"A clear shot, just as you said!" Alma cheered, jumping up slightly even as her brother still held her.

"Alma, careful!" Ramza cautioned, moving his feet back to keep his sister from trampling his toes.

The girl whirled back towards Ramza, practically glowing with happiness. "Thank you, brother!" she cooed, throwing her arms around him with the gun still in her grip. In her rapture, Alma pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss, then blushed as she remembered Mustadio was still with them. Ramza had surely the same notion, for they both pulled apart and smiled at the engineer in a show of innocence. Still, Mustadio showed no sign of shock and merely smiled back, seemingly chalking it up to sisterly affection.

"So Alma, are you throwing your lot in with us marksmen?" Mustadio asked, a loopy grin forming on his face as he twirled his piece. "I bet I could teach you to bank shots before we leave Zeklaus!"

"I'm sorry, I'd rather not, Mustadio." Alma placed the rifle back in the sack with the rest of Mustadio's equipment, and turned back to him with a smile. "Rifles are a bit clunky for me. I'd prefer to follow my brother in swordsmanship."

"Never squander an opportunity to learn, Alma," Ranza scolded, and then slapped his sister soundly on the thigh in reproval.

"Oh!" The young lady jumped almost two feet. "Ramza!" she hissed, chasing after him with mock ire.

"...clunky?" Mustadio muttered, as the two siblings laughed among the swirling sands.