Name: Hrist Chardonnay
Age: 14 (Born December 21th)
Blood Type: B+
Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius
Height: 170 cm
Eye color: Amethyst
Education: Dragoon
Laterality: Right-handed
Family: Ezekiel Chardonnay
Hobbies: Doing aerial cartwheels, making soap bubbles
Favorite color: Royal Blue
Favorite book: Tree of Life
Personality: Whenever Hrist is challenged, even if it means getting in danger, she's the type who goes all-out and does whatever she can to fulfill her goals. Because of the standoffish nature, people often think Hrist is arrogant and stubborn. But if she's on your side, the Dragoon proves herself to be a reliable ally, with a brave and noble heart buried deep beneath the hot-blooded, rebellious act. Likes pot roast, hates blunt sense of fashion and split ends.
Aphex Twin - Windowsill
…
My hair gust back from the wind. The rain washes as it delivers delicate slices of cold to my pale skin, and my brother's nowhere to be seen. I find myself between tides of strangers, avoiding contact and looks, running so fast that I barely got noticed, had it not been for the red of my coat.
— Huh? – For a moment, nothing could take my breath away. Except for a ginger girl in an orange pumpkin coat, running as fast as I. Carrying a piece of toaster in mouth, too. She is a Dragoon like me, though I haven't seen her before, and I'm not in a hurry like she is. – Hello there! How are you?
Look at me, trying to talk with someone who's got a loaf of bread in mouth. A loaf of bread that isn't getting soaked in the middle of the heaviest of rains? That's weird. Everything, from being ginger to… suddenly, I feel queasy, my skin burning in fever. Fever? I was doing fine and well, before I came close to this girl. There aren't many ginger Burmecians I know. or anyone who leaves a trace of steam by every step. Is that a girl, or a train!?
— Are you heading for the Jugend? So do I! – I said. Let's find out what's with this mysterious ginger. I don't even know her name, I am really lacking new friendships at the moment.
— You two are late. – In Hrist's case, better be an old friend than an old foe. – Crescent… Marigold.
— Marigold? – I asked dear Hrist, standing at the Jugend's gates, crossing hands and laying against the wall. The 'look how cool I am!' pose.
— Oh, I forgot to introduce you to one another. – Said Hrist, as she waved her hair back, for no reason whatsoever. She believes to be that cool of a person, won't ruin the mood. – Freya, meet Alba.
— Hi. – Alba… o that's her name? – Good seeing you, Alba.
Alba waved her hand, shyly.
— My name is Freya. I am a Dragoon like you do.
I'll wait for an answer when Alba's done with the bread. She doesn't make a sound while eating, how fancy.
— We're all Dragoons here. – Unlike Hrist, whose hair almost got rid of me. There's no way I can come up with that sentence without sounding ridiculous, though.
Alba finished her bread, but she refused to look at me by face. What? Didn't we look at each other a while ago?
— From where you came from, Alba? – I asked. Being a ginger at Burmecia is as rare as the sun coming to its entire glory.
And she refuses to talk with me, looking down at the road covered in ripples while twiddling her forefingers. When did it all get so awkward?
— She came from Cleyra. – Hrist said, aware of the awkward feeling I mentioned.
— I see. Cleyra, isn't it? – The nation of Cleyra exists somewhere in the desert, hindered by the motherest of all sandstorms. It's almost like a place out of legends, a place mom made up on her bedtime stories Moving on, because I too can't stand this much of silence. – It must be hard to be so far away from home. To make new friends, eat new food, live a new life…
— Alba left home as a kid, so I'd say she's been here for quite a while. – Yet, that doesn't explain why she's so quiet, Hrist.
— Really? I haven't seen many gingers in my life. – Something in Alba really got me. Not her appearance, but there's a kind of warmth… a feverish warmth like no other.
She moves away from a hand shake, with the same expression at face. Is she's afraid of me?
— Don't worry. I won't hurt you. Then I speak to her like she was a child.
It is as if I'm speaking to a mirror.
— You won't hurt her? Hmph! – And Hrist takes the lead. – Because you already did!
— How so? – First time we meet, and we're already on bad terms, Alba? – She's the one who is messing with my thoughts.
— Messing with your thoughts? Oh, there's a lot I have to tell you. – So tell me, Hrist. I'm waiting for an explanation. – Freya, Freya… There are times your ingenuity amazes me. You couldn't figure out what's going on, eh?
— Cut the crap, and tell me! – I hate being the last person to know about something, while the whole world seems to have figured it out already.
— Okay okay. It doesn't help that my thoughts are as messed up as yours too! It's one of the side effects for one to release pyrokinetic powers by skin. Yeah, fire powers! Ain't that cool?
And so Hrist began explaining what's up with Alba. Though, that doesn't explain why Hrist hugs her like a puppy.
— When you get a fever, all you want to do is lay on a comfy bed, read a book, sleep or do anything to pass time. Fevers come and go, but the fire stays. Fire is live, and love is live, and who doesn't love you, Alba? Oh, you're so warm, soft and cute! I won't let her go, oh no no no… hmmm, only if she asks.
— Enough? – There are no words to describe what I saw.
— What, you too want a piece of pumpkin here? – When will Hrist stop… that ain't even hugging. Too much to call it brushing. – You won't!
— I didn't ask for that. – I can hug like a civilized Burmecian being. – Neither did Alba..
— What? You think I'm doing it against her will? Of course not. Right, Alba?
— She didn't say a word…
— Crescent darling… Sweetheart, do you know the feeling of being burned inside? – Wait, did Hrist call me 'sweetheart'? Things are getting weirder… - That's Alba's doing, she talks through the flames. More than a gut reaction, her words burn at your mind, but they'll only do if you connect to her.
— Connect? – Is that the reason why, eh… whatever Hrist is doing with Alba, is happening?
— Yes. Alba won't talk to you unless you earn her trust. You see, the poor thing here doesn't do well with strangers, no, you don't…
— But we were running together a few minutes ago. – I said, as Alba she stared deep into my soul, or whatever was that I felt. Something I never had before.
— Were you two running together, or was she running away from you, eh!? – Hrist talks like one of my neighbors, whose children get home covered in mud everyday. – Did Freya scare you, Alba? She didn't? Someone tall and slender like that, you are not afraid? Okay. Well, Crescent, I thought about introducing you two to each before, but it's up to Alba to accept you anyway. Or else, she'll burn you a crisp.
— Burn me? – Is that why I feel so hot? Because Alba…
— Like an ant under a magnifying glass's death beam! – Someone tell me Hrist hasn't gotten serious all of sudden. – Or what, haven't you noticed the flames already?
— The flames? – I felt a tingling in my feet. Then in my right arm, crossing to the left, my chest and members igniting… it doesn't take long for blue azure flames to take over my whole body, but what amazes me is that I don't feel like being burned alive at all.
— You are within Alba's range. – Hrist is surrounded by the mystical bonfire as well. However, her limbs move freely as mine are paralyzed. – One more step and she will make a barbecue out of you!
— But why!? – I try to move, but something in me says [Don't]. [Don't move], I can see some words lit on my head, these aren't my thoughts, they burn and melt my brain… Alba looks right at me, facing me, flattening my thoughts, my mind fallen in a turmoil…
— Heh heh… HAHAHAHAHAHA! – What? Is Hrist… laughing at me? – I'm joking! I swear, I'm joking! Okay, Alba, that's enough! Enough! Oh, I didn't mean to yell, it's just that you were all concentrated and-
— Don't you ever do it again! For Bahamut's sake! – I said, on my knees, my head was about to burst like a watermelon hit by a hammer.
— What? Do what? – Hrist seems shocked, but not so much. – Oh, feeling a headache, Crescent? Yeah, I felt one too when Alba did it with me.
— Did what? – Slowly I recover my equilibrium and thoughts, all in order.
— Talk. Alba was trying to talk with you. She really enjoys you, for some reason.
— Which reason?
— [YOU][ARE][FUNNY].
— OOOH! – Not again… I'm sure Alba didn't mean to harm me.
— Sorry if the heat's too much, but you'll get used to. For your benefit, she really doesn't talk much. – Thanks for clarifying, Hrist. – Introverts… You know, to be an introvert is God's gift to mankind. Otherwise, way too many people would talk shit whenever they wanted. Right, Alba? Oh, I didn't mean that. Your voice? The sweetest of honeys. It'll take a while until Freya hears it. Freya? No, she ain't an old lady! It's just her hair. Oh, that's why you told her to not move? I see.
— Why did she tell me to not move? – For a moment, I thought Alba would burn me up like coal. What a way to make new friendships…
— She noticed something in you. Something familiar. – My hair, white.. Lenneth, mom? It must be.
— You knew my mother?
— Who didn't? She's quite a legend around the academy. Father even ordered the finest artist of Burmecia to do a portrait of her, and it's quite hard to find at least a decent artist around here.
— My mom is getting a painting of her done? That's so… she would like to see that. – I said, with a mix of grief and happiness flowing out as tears.
— Hey, don't tell pops! It's a surprise. He planned to show it yesterday but he got occupied with other stuff, drowning in a sea of papers as usual, and please for the love of Mother Reis don't tell him I said that.
— It's alright.
— He's tired of hearing my complaints, everyone is, it ain't all about me, there are others who might be better at doing the very things I do… you understand me, Alba. I mean, YOU are the one making me say these things. What, open up for those around? Be more honest with yourself and another? Shhhhh! Freya's listening…
— Indeed, I am. – And in need of explanations, as well.
— Well, since you are no more a threat to Alba, guess everything is fine, isn't it?
— Like paradise.
— As for the 'burn you to a crisp' thing, I was exaggerating!.
— You sure were.
— (Trust me, you don't want to see Alba at her worst, and I don't mean the hair.)
— (Alba's listening…)
— (Who said so? We're whispering.) – Hrist, you don't need to be that close to my ears, gee...
— (If she can enter our heads, she might as well read what's inside.)
— (You thought the same about Sir Fratley.) – Honestly, the thoughts of having one person inside our heads dictating what we should do everyday frighten me. – Oh, you missed me, Alba?
— How come she would miss you? You are… close to her. Again.
— A cutie like Marigold doesn't deserve to be alone. Marigold, isn't that cute? And she happens to be ginger. I like gingers, their freckles, their innocence, they are a rare beauty.
— And there we go again… – I gave up trying to understand Hrist
— I love when Alba smiles. I'm not the best when it comes to jokes that get into her. As for this, though… here it comes! Tickle tickle tickle! Tickle tickle tickle tickle! Haha, I got your nose! I got your nose-
— Stop! – I am at my limit. – Just… stop.
— Sorry. I got carried away. Can't blame Alba for being so cute.
— That doesn't justify what you're doing, Hrist. You are spoiling her.
— I see… You too wanted that kind of treatment!
— Me? If someone dares to squeeze my cheeks…
— You are in need of someone in your life. I got Alba, and you?
— I got no one, if you want to know. – I thought Jack would catch on to me, but he fell behind when I ran. That's not what upsets me. What it does is that… Hrist may be right.
— Don't say that. You have lots of people at your side. – I have my preferences, Hrist. Not judging anyone here. Maybe a bit. – As for Alba… Little Alba got scratched on the neck by a Zuu. Mean bird! That's why she doesn't talk much. Either that, or because she's shy. Or ginger, which I'll deny with all my strength. Gingers are not freaks, they are the best! If you have anything against it, fight me!
— Nothing against. – In fact. I find Alba to be beautiful on her own.
— I got a little worked up. so… where was I? When I lay on Alba's shoulder, it's like laying my back against an oak by autumn. Hard to describe, but that's the best I could come up with. It was hard for Alba to find a way to express herself without words. Her hand-writing is amazing, for comparison, but when people talk like we do, no one writes words with a pen on a paper, they are said by the moment. Came the Dragoon's aid, and with the years, Alba learned to talk through flames.
— Telepathy? – I thought it was impossible. But nothing's impossible for a Dragoon, unless they don't believe it.
— Yeah. Telepathy, but not kinda. You get to see words in your head, feel their blaze aching your neurons and nerves-
— Telepathy. And nothing else.
— You forgot the flames. It's even more complicated, but you got the essentials. – Yes, I got a bit of what's going on. My head still hurts. – Alba's childhood was taken away from her. Like everything she knew. Understand?
— I do know how it feels to have something taken from you for no reason. – And how everything gets taken from you someday. Well, let's enjoy the moment, shall we?
— Finally! – Hrist shouted, as soon as the main gates of the Dragoon academy were open at once. – What are you waiting for, Crescent? Move your flaccid pancake ass!
— Alright. Let's get going. – I said, as we entered inside the Jugend. Hope I get used to this madness…
— [L][E][T][S][GO]. – I think I'll get used to that, Alba.
