I'm sorry that chapter 2 took ages. I had so much to do! Ugh...so much work...I think I'm going to die of work...yow... I'm sorry it's so short as well. It filled a whole page on Word. One beautifully long page, and then when I loaded it onto the internet, once again, it just...meh. Soy deprimida porque no puedo escribir los cuentos largos...(I think...)...Me gusta hablar espanol! (Someone please tell me if I got that right...there was no insert accent option...) Oh! By the way, the tense changes are intentional. Please don't blame me for any inconsistency in this story (I'm sleep deprived! Kyaaaah!), but instead please notify me of it kindly (no flames, please!). Wow...how many brackets did I just write in? Anyway, thank-you to The Serenity, Herr Wozzeck, and Jelly .Belly .Monster for reviewing.
Eclipsedragon does not own Fire Emblem, Microsoft Word, Microsoft or anything else mentioned here.
Chapter 2: Weakness.
The eye of the narrator rises now, watches one stumbling figure trudge back to the army. Matthew knows where he is going but walks as if he is lost; leaving the path only to swerve back onto it occasionally; always tripping, never falling. The narrator sees his eyes rise to the makeshift camp at the end of the road, sees his pupils dilate in surprise. Looks at the world from Matthew's viewpoint. There! Her pink hair sways in the breeze in front of him. It was all a dream after all: he walked away from the camp during his sleep, and she's waiting there for him. Leila. She's not dead. He's found her again. Oh Leila, where were you? It was all so dark, and you were nowhere to be seen.
Matthew picks up his pace, begins to run towards her. You're alive!
"Matthew?!" What? Leila's voice never sounded like that. What could be wrong with her? Leila turns to greet him, but she's not Leila after all.
"How could you run off like that? I needed someone to help dye my hair. As it is, I had to do it myself, and then I got called out by the tactician to greet you! I'm a noble; I shouldn't have to-" He pushes past Serra, but she won't let him be; she seizes his arm.
"How dare you ignore me? You ungrateful-" She is cut off once again, as he turns to face her, and she looks into his eyes. Matthew's pupils have swelled so much that they almost cover his irises, black holes leading through to a terrible void. His eyes are twitching, as if searching for an escape, and even the insensitive Serra, as a cleric and therefore a healer, knows that there is something horribly wrong. She lets go of his arm and backs off, still staring at those distorted eyes, too frightened to run.
"Dead…" Matthew's words come as a hiss.
"I…I beg your pardon…?" Stunned into shocked horror, her mouth issues an automatic response before her mind can intervene.
"There is no pardon for the dead. Not for her!" He breaks the eye contact, flees to his tent. Serra merely stands there, shakily. Only when Erk comes to investigate does she move, begging him to summon the lords, the tactician, anyone. For the first time, she knows what it is to fear one who was once her friend.
Um...please...review...?