Truths: Chains

"It is better to walk in chains with friends than in gardens with enemies."

Fran

"The jungle denies us our passage." Irritating, really. Now Fran would be forced to confront her long-avoided past. True, for the past fifty years she had been telling herself that she would scarce be able to avoid it, but… it did not make it any easier.

"What have we done?" Ashe asked, looking up at Fran. She stared blankly ahead; it was just like a Hume to assume they were the center of conflict. The jungle cared not about trivial matters of the outside world. Rather, it and its inhabitants were introverted to the point of idiocy.

"We? No. I." Without another word, she turned and walked away, head held high. If she had to go back, she would at least appear to have some shred of Viera dignity. Even if she hadn't known from memory where the entrance to the Wood was, she would have been able to smell it – wild and sweet after the long years among Hume stenches. Her feet guided her to it like a puppet on a string, and she despised herself while at the same time feeling anxious to once more look up at the sky from under Her boughs.

Vaan shouted after her, indignation clear in his voice. Fran began to stop and look back before Balthier fell into step beside her. To tell the truth, she had been somewhat expecting that.

"Making an appearance?" he asked lightly. Fran refused to look at him.

"I am."

"I thought you'd left for good." Was it sarcasm that permeated his voice, that suave, smug tone he most often possessed? No – Balthier was not so cruel. It was an honest statement, one that Fran had frankly believed herself once.

"Our choices are few." There was much unspoken between them – to help Ashe, to cure Balthier's insatiable curiosity and his fear, they had to press forward – they could not turn back now, as they were so thick with people that could very well throw them in jail without a shred of remorse. Behind, Vaan still shouted, upset at being ignored. Balthier looked ready to tell him off before she spoke again. "This is as much for you as it is for me."

"Oh?" Balthier asked, stopping on a step. Fran continued down the stairs before she looked back at him with her best piercing stare. He merely stared back. You would think, she thought with an almost amused air, that after so long of being partners he would come to understand her. Yet here she was, having to explain things to him like one would a child.

"You are ill at ease. The nethicite troubles you?" He made a face, and she could sense that he wondered how she knew. This time, she granted him scarcely seen smile, and chose against tinting her voice with sarcasm. She wanted him to know she was being serious. "You've let your eyes betray your heart." Turning, she walked to where the grass path seemed to cut off, hearing Balthier sigh a defeated: "Right."

Her smile grew a second more before fading away, and she held out her hand to touch the invisible barrier before her. It seemed to resist her touch, as though it knew whose fingers asked it to grant access. Still, Fran ignored the thought, and continued the silent spell that unlocked her former home. Tensing a little, knowing it was too late to turn back now, she put her fingers to her lips and blew, hoping that in a moment Eryut Village would reveal itself to them.

"What're you doing?" Vaan asked her, ever questioning. Fran gave him a look, compassionate and telling him to shut up all at once.

"Soon you will learn." In front of them, she heard the Wood whisper, and relief flooded through her heart. The Wood still recognized her as a Viera after all this time. She had half expected the path would not appear, but even after fifty years… perhaps it was Mjrn's work. Green grass stretched ahead, and it sprayed the scent of flowers and exotic fruit over them. Fran's nose picked up the smell, and she reveled in it, though the others seemed to notice no change. While she would never miss the way the Wood worked, the governing they had been put through, she would always miss the sights and smells.

"We go to seek the aid of the Viera who dwell ahead," she said, trying to remain impassive. Fran would not go in far – only far enough to take enough of the sights and smells to last her another fifty years.

"I bet they'll be glad," Penelo said, looking at Fran hopefully, "to see you after so long." Fran sighed a little. She was a sweet little Hume, but clueless at times.

"I am unwelcome. An unsought guest in their wood." Trying to ignore their confused stares, not to mention the piercing look she could feel coming from Balthier, she stepped forward. The sound of heels, boots, and sandals crunching on the grass was welcome to her – every step sent up a new cloud of memories, memories of the afternoon sun, of the cooling spring, of the whispers of trees. The scents got stronger, and her uneasiness with it, as they finally passed under the last growth of jungle trees and were basked in the light from Eruyt Village.

When she stopped, Vaan looked back at her in confusion. Fran merely shook her head.

"In the village ahead you will find her. Mjrn. Bring her to me. She will know why you call her." He nodded, innocent Hume eyes wide as he tried to give her a reassuring look. Fran nodded in response, and he took off at a little jog to catch up with the others. This left her, alone, in the home she had rejected fifty years ago yet still tasted like it had been yesterday. The Wood seemed to smile upon her if only for a moment, perhaps pitying the child that no longer experienced Her joy day after day, and she heard a gentle whispering against her sensitive ears. For a moment, Fran was able to make herself forget that she no longer could understand what it said.

The wind seemed to call attention to the way Balthier had made a face at her just moments before, incredulous at being told that she could read his emotions so easily. For years, ever since he had abandoned being a Judge at the tender age of 16 and stolen off with her and the Strahl, they'd had unspoken rules that defined the way things worked with them. He would make situations lighter, trying his best to bring a smile to her face, and she would keep the situation grounded, attempting to calm the easily excited teenager that still dwelled within him. This elite form of partnership had existed without a hitch for some time now, and he had grown accustomed to the fact that she was clueless to the subtle art of flattery, and she accepted that he could not stand to be tied down to anything.

As of late, there seemed to have been a switch in their… what could she call it… relationship? A touchy word for the Humes. It always seemed to imply there being something more than the typical platonic emotions between two people, and she had long ago understood that their 'relationship' was limited to casual flirting and the occasional lewd remark from Balthier. Either way, after the… incident… on the airship Shiva, they both realized that this change had been growing and festering for some time – it had just chosen the most inconvenient (and yet oddly convenient) time to crop up and slap them in the face.

Rather than her needing to calm him down, to ease his wild emotions that often rushed to a head when his father was mentioned, he had been the one to heft her arm over his shoulder and help her back to the Strahl, speaking to her quietly so that he might ease the disquiet Mist had caused within her. It was later that he confronted her, refusing to leave until she answered his every question about her well-being, and he had even forbidden her from using Quickenings for a time. An odder nursemaid she had never seen, Fran thought with a small smile.

And yet, that was just it. Not very long ago, she had even smiled at him – something Fran couldn't recall doing seriously in a while. She let herself be the butt of a few jokes, and even made a few dry and mostly unnoticed jokes herself. While he was beginning to become more supportive, she felt herself needing more and more to make him smile – not smirk, not sneer, and not just the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Fran wanted to make sure Balthier gave her a genuine smile, the sort no one saw on his usually sardonic face.

Then again, Fran thought with a little bit of a frown, it could just be her thoughts running away with her. It was about time Balthier began to shoulder some of the responsibilities other than plundering and thieving young girls' hearts for the sake of amusement (or perhaps by accident, but she never waited to find out). He seemed to be accepting the role that had been laid out for him, and by now he seemed to have realized that following Ashe would lead him straight to his father once more. Whether or not he was ready, he still followed, and still graced their ragtag group with his witty observances and his skill with the weapons. He was no longer running, and Fran was grateful for that. Perhaps they could feed off each other's strength – if he could have the courage to face his past, she ought to at least be strong enough to stand in her old home and listen to the Wood a last time.

Her voice was frantic, catching Fran's attention. Had she been so lost in thought that the Wood had to shout that loudly to be heard? Didn't She know that Fran couldn't hear her anyway?

"Mjrn… unrest… left… west… Jote…"

Her euphoria at being able to understand even this little bit was squashed in the sudden realization of what it meant. Mjrn was gone – and she could not decipher where it was she could have possibly gone. Her only clue was west, and her other sister's name – Jote. Fear of her former companions, former sisters, was gone, and she heard the click of her heels against wood before she realized that she was even walking. Mjrn had to be found, and it wasn't a matter of merely getting through to Mount Bur-Omisace. Now, it was a matter of finding her sister – and bringing her back to the Wood. Much as she liked the Hume world, much as she liked their customs, and much as she loved (liked?) her companion(s?), she would not let Mjrn leave. It was something she would regret forever.

Fran certainly did.