Disclaimer: I do not own Vindictus or any of its characters or places.
Lann stood there for what seemed like many forever, gazing at the statue, waiting for an answer. He let his eyes look into her solemn expression, demanding an explanation he wasn't sure it would give.
After a while, he realized he wasn't so much as glaring at the statue, as he was admiring it. Though could he really blame himself? The stone was a smooth white, there wasn't a blemish anywhere he could see. Gilliam must spend a decent amount of time cleaning just the wings-
Well, shoot.
Embarrassed, he shifted his weight. He glanced at the dark corridors of either side of him, as if expecting Gilliam to come berate him for 'idling in a sacred place', before he remembered he was alone. A shift of light had him looking up at the clouds. They seemed to have decided not to grant Rocheste with there presence anymore, and were now slowly moving east. Streams of golden sunlight appeared across the sky, widening and moving as the clouds did.
The foreboding atmosphere moved as well. And when it left, a new one took place. Lann continued standing there, in awe. This is...nice, he thought. And it was. The cathedral became a new place.
He smiled at the changes.
Lann felt almost welcomed. The corridors darkness reached out to him, and the colored lights shining through the windows warmed his skin. A feeling of contentment ran though him, and he shivered in delight. Before he could talk himself out of it, he sat down cross-legged on the stone floor. Waiting and seeing no sign of Gilliam still, he hesitantly laid back, until he was staring straight up at the stained glass ceiling.
He laid there for a few minutes, and then brought his arms up behind his head, and closed his eyes. There he took a deep breath, and let go. Limp and relaxed, he let the warmth wash over him, and felt the soothing buzz across his skin. Soon enough, he fell asleep.
The chime of the towns bell startled him awake. Confused and slightly dazed, he thought, Mm...only three o'clock. He readjusted himself on the floor, then closed his eyes.
And immediately snapped them back open.
He stared up, beyond the glass, at the clear night sky.
A quick count of the hours, and his face filled with dread. He had been there for over four hours...it was six o'clock at night. He sat up and leaned back on his hands. Looking around, he felt disheartened. The warm and beautiful cathedral was gone. It was now cold, and empty. A steady wind now flew through the corridors, shivering, he rubbed his bare arms.
He once again felt awkward and uncomfortable here, and decided to leave.
Besides, Dolores would worry if he didn't head back. And Blawynn would eat his share of supper for sure. Not to mention the younger cadets would rummage through his stuff, taking whatever they please. And he didn't feel like going on a hunting them down to find them tomorrow.
Lann picked himself off the stone floor and brushed off his trousers. He stretched, and then sighed. Turning to the entrance, he started down the steps.
He vowed to figure out what was going on with him, but just then, he was hungry. And it was really hard to concentrate on anything else but warm gravy at that moment.
Fiona knew from the moment that blond boy had stepped onto the boat, dirty and looking half dead, she knew he would be annoying.
She was right.
Before she even knew him, he already made her emotionless mask falter. And he took no responsibility. Giving her that carefree, bright smile, then promptly falling asleep. She bet he didn't even realize the effect it had on her. That she had never blushed so deeply in her life, or that she had never shown that much emotion in who knows how long.
He was irresponsible. He wasn't taking care of himself, that much she knew. And when he wouldn't wake up, she had watched the old man escort him to the Inn. She had forgotten the feeling of having an internal debate within yourself, the feeling of need and the knowledge of want battling for control. She needed to see if the boy would be alright.
No, she wanted it.
There were other duties she must attend to.
...But I'm worried for him.
In the end, logic had won, and she followed the older men to the meet-up point. Glancing back every few feet, a foreign feeling of regret overcoming her.
He was...amusing. She had more times than she could name on her ten fingers and toes when she desperately wanted to laugh at his antics. At his lack of control over the simplest things. At his emotions, splaying across his face so fast she wonders how somebody could feel all of them in just that short amount of time.
In the beginning, he would have a look of being crestfallen, saddened that she didn't laugh. Didn't react. Then one day he started to read through her, and his lips would quirk after a joke. She knew then that she let her laughter had shown through eyes, and would quickly rebuild her mask.
His smile and knowing look would stay for the rest of the day.
He was all those things and twenty five more, and she could still never describe him correctly. He was unique. He was simple. Complex and obtrusive but oh so caring and he was...
a friend.
Fiona stopped writing, quill going still. She contemplated those last two words, debated scratching them out. Her hand had written them of seemingly its own accord. It was a word she had never applied to herself, a foreign thing she had only witnessed of others and in books. Yet they seemed...
/right/ a voice whispered. Soft, unobtrusive. She paused, and thought about it.
She then gently set her quill down and closed her journal.
Fiona looked out the window then, watched the clouds in the distance, as she thought about that, and the emotions she was feeling.
"A...friend."
A/N: I'm not too sure about this chapter, tell me what you think.