Virginia Astley - With My Eyes Wide Open I'm Dreaming


July 18, 1794

...

At Burmecia, there are no shooting stars.

If you look at the sky, you can see the clouds and the rain. Rarely, the sky changes its colors to a sepia or a green like pea soup. And, if you are lucky, you can spot gaps where sunlight passes through. Or, if any luckier, a skyfish. Faster than light, you can pray for him if someone is ill.

They are said to be the angels of Bahamut, whether or not you believe he is a dragon or a sea creature. Leviathan has been tasked to protect the earth, by ruling the seas. It can't be trespassed as heaven does, but man found its way to populate this entire continent, and wonders whether or not there are others. While my home doesn't have any shore for a sea, my people do not only live here. Spread around the world, in search of better opportunities. Mainly job. Many boats were sunk and believed to be the work of Leviathan. If there are any rats on board, all their families can do is pray for their safety.

I saw a skyfish the day before my mother passed. I couldn't wish for her to live any longer, because a bit of her is already in me. I may not have inherited her money, and I'm not only doing this to make my own. More valuable rewards await for me, even when they do not get any attention. This ain't a circus, despite the acrobatics, the work with the limbs, the way they spin and act while inside that coat.

I woke up a while ago, and still I am lying on this bed, wearing nothing for a day that means everything. So, will you remember this day? Will there be another July 18 for you to enjoy? I mean, a Friday 18th like this one? The first day, the beginning of year one. And yet, I'm still lying upon this bed. The only force acting on me is gravity, and nostalgia. They drag you like backwater, and sometimes you are unable to get out.

I need to. Not tired at all, but after this day, I'll have a reason to lay there. Rain washes my window, and I can barely notice a thing from a distance other than the tree, whose leaves and fruits fell down. And we were there to collect any of them... It was better than going to the market, and the lengths it took were just from that garden to the front door. Still an effort taken for father to me, so do the swings he built a long ago. To swing up and down, down and up again, with someone behind to pull you higher and higher; it ain't there, none of them are. Not even a reason to bring it back again, other than in memories.

"Don't leave the swing 'till your speed slows down, or else you'll be thrown into the streets and lay there like poop", so my brother said. He and his head were stupid enough to stay behind once. Or maybe I was reckless for not stopping when I could. It's hard to say for a kid to stop, because legs do not have ears, and with so many voices heard, one or two had to stand out. Food and its taste do not matter, only that it brings energy. Jack taught me how to eat something I didn't like by trying not to touch it with the tongue, only with the teeth.

With time, I began to like tomatoes and carrots without the need of putting them at the sides of my mouth, as much as I began to wear clothes other than the ones belonging to my brother. For a long time, I inherited all of Jack's stuff deemed as old, except his friends. They are meant to be made, not threatened by fists, but guess that a man's mind since young works in a different way as mine. Needless to say, I also had been the kind who relied on punches and kicks and bites a few times, so why complain?

Clothes mean status, and something more comfy than your own fur to bear the cold outside. Well, try to say again that this outfit and those belts tightened are comfy. This helmet doesn't even fit your head, so small that it could crush an infant's skull, and maybe that's the reason why mother forbid me to wear it. Only when I grew a bit more that I was able to bear its weight, and I mean the broomstick. Only the stick, but to this day, there'll be a sharp tip on it. As if this helmet wasn't already sharp...

Anyway, only the gaiters left to be worn. This pair of gaiters looks like a pantyhose, made of a very resistant material. I can't even tear it apart with my teeth, or with a knife, so a stone won't do anything but bring a bit of discomfort.

Many perils are awaiting me, to this journey I shall travel in order to...

Just the beginning.

The beginning of what, other than my career? To be a Dragoon Knight doesn't mean that much. I mean, speaking of legends, where heroes fight against deity-like beasts, stories reverberating for generations, such as mine. For mine. Well, if I don't like how things are, then what will it be? To betray your own words is something unforgivable. For them to be spoken to justify something that matters and you don't know what it is, because it's a thing higher than you can understand about... Is something natural.

When a story comes to an end, and everyone smiles as if nothing that happened before will happen again, but it does. Who am I? My name is Freya Crescent. Other than being the daughter of Lenneth Crescent and Bartholomew Brandford, mom and dad respectively, I am a Burmecian. A woman who took the place out of the girl of before, though a seed of what I would become was there all the time.

Funny how you await for them to sprout for many reasons. Never that I was tiny enough to want to become tall as an adult, or that I wanted to marry someone because only adults can marry each other. Mother married with father, and duty for a long time, 'til death did them part. She felt proud of what was done in life, while I searched for a reason to feel the same. To keep smiling when it's all over. It's natural to feel this way, so Learie told me about the jitters she felt before making amends with Dan. Was it the right choice, the right moment... What would he feel if I said 'no'? Father knew what I felt when he said 'no'. But he said it so, no matter the cries. They would be over, soon as I realized how meaningless it was to keep committing the same mistakes.

I haven't done anything, and yet, I feel that I have failed with someone.

The crowd doesn't cheer for a fallen one, and it does nothing for an unknown person in the middle. Everyone wears green on a gray land, guards wear cold blue, and Dragoon Knights are strong in every way. Everyone can see their colors, and only a few can hold on to their strength. Like mom, who trained to become one and succeeded, and dad, who did what he liked to. To offer help, no matter how much they paid him. He had a lot of time to be spent, and I could see that he felt well even when he returned to his worse shape, with only a bit of gil in his pocket. Then, one day, he never returned, but a bit of his is on me too.

Knock Knock... someone hits the door, reason enough for me to leave this bed at once. Another empty bed; soon there'll be nothing in front of the door. A beautiful and magnificent view of the outside world being washed by the rain.

— How are ye doing, apprentice? – Then, Hrist spoils everything as soon as she talks.

— Didn't notice you there. – Though, I've noticed something. Hrist is dry like a leaf coming out of a desert. Drops of water stand on her, instead of falling down as they do. – Also, you are as much an apprentice as I am, Hrist.

— Not as a first-timer. – When will she stop to show-off her surface tension abilities? Soon as I begin to do the same, presumably. Or when she gets away from the rain, which she does immediately by stepping into my house. – This place looks the same as before. How many times has this wall been washed away?

— Given how much time and pieces of chalk you have wasted on it...

— Wonder how many times have I mistaken your hair for a tree of chalk? – Asked Hrist, poking my hair. Pulling the strands falling out of my helmet, then I pulled her hand away. Couldn't pull her mouth out, though. – Don't know? Neither do I.

— Does it really matter?

— Well, guess not. – Said Hrist, before eating an apple out of the kitchen's basket. Eating with a single bite, followed by pauses, and… – It's a thing I can barely remember, out of what I've learned during my training sessions. By the way, did you pay a visit to Sir Fratley yesterday?

— He wasn't at home. – And so I am left to wonder how he looks alike.

— 'Burmecia is my home', Fratley says. – Said Hrist, taking an apple out of the basket found upon the kitchen's table. A kind of dead nature sucked in by the tiny fruit flies, brought alive by the touch and disturbance of a grey claw, sharp like those teeth. – CHOMP!... To think he takes such words seriously.

— What does this Sir Fratley look like?

— Like me, you and father... He is a Dragoon Knight. Except you, he's a skilled one like the rest.

— If having skills on something else other than Surface Tension...

— Dare to compare me to a mere insect in a puddle, huh? – Said Hrist, who had nothing to say, other than a choke which she advisedly avoided.

— If you don't moisturize your hair, you'll be bald like one. – Or before I do.

— Said the cicada who's about to burst inside its thick shell.

— This shell belongs to my mom. – I said, to hear nothing coming out of her. From Hrist, I mean. You can't talk while eating, and when you do not talk, you are left to hear the noises around the table. There are only two of us... Me and the rain.

— I know. – Below those strands, I heard Hrist, who was now sitting backwards on a chair, looking at me and mainly this coat. – Do you miss her?

— A lot.

— Same. I would like to make a presence that day, but like my father said, I was occupied too. I really wanted to be here, and...

— I didn't want to be here at the moment, Hrist. – When I said it, Hrist turned to the ceiling.

— Why not? You had the chance to… Say goodbye, at least. – And when I turned to the ceiling that day, I could see blood.

— I didn't feel well back then, Hrist. I felt my body heavier than usual, even without this armor I would wear a day after… – I couldn't even hear the chews following the pieces taken out of that apple. Then, we both looked at the window. Outside, it rained as usual. – There are things that go, and things that do not.

— The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh. – Hrist said, leaving the chair and walking near me. – It must be a really sick sense of humor, but that's how it is. You can't change these, but that doesn't mean you can't change your mind.

— What do you mean?

— Here. – Soon as I asked, Hrist offered me something other than an answer.

— What is this? – It has a nice smell of green tea, for sure. Must be the scent coming out of Hrist's pockets.

— Consider it a last hour gift.

— An armlet?

— It's a lucky charm made of Lapis Lazuli gems. – Radiating the same color as a monarch's robes; I don't know how to wear it, since there is no space left on my neck, and in which arm should I... By chance, I chose the left one.

— Thanks. Where did you get this, Hrist?

— Don't ask me, 'cause this gift ain't mine alone. Now you must know why I gave Sir Fratley's address to yours. Since he wasn't at home yesterday, he asked me to bring this charm to you.

— Why couldn't Sir Fratley be here?

— He is occupied as father does with that sea of papers. Lawyers do not care that much for appearance. After all, they rely on words for their best.

— Is he a lawyer too?

— Yeah. In case you get in trouble, you can hire Fratley to do the work. But nothing comes for free, ye know! – Hrist threw away that piece of apple out the window. The garden and grass outside will be feeded by it. – Uh... Before we go out, I would like to ask you a thing, Crescent.

— And what would it be?

— Well, it ain't personal. I mean, it is, but... Could you lend me some of your panties? – For a while, I did nothing but stand still. – It may be a strange request, but I know that you have a sparring piece of nightdress hangin' around.

— Nothing comes for free, Hrist.

— A bit of solidarity isn't asking for too much.

— Why don't you ask it for Ezekiel instead of me?

— Oh, this matter is so embarrassing to say to father... – And why isn't it for me?

— I thought they all were proud of hearing that the little girl became a woman.

— They do not have to deal with the pain.

— Would you have preferred a fist in your chest, perhaps?

— Hah hah... Quit the offensive before I do my own. – With your arms crossed, I really doubt you can, Hrist.

— Humor... It brings relief to these kinds of stressful situations.

— There is nothing funny about cravings in your chest. They hurt like stones in your kidney and migraines bursting together with stepping upon shards of a broken glass. It's a silent pain. Or, have you left a grunt out of your mouth? You do not want anyone to notice it, and when they do, it gets worse. Treating a lady as if she was a dog with an injured paw, and they keep pushing it...

— Any descriptions left for a pain that can't be described? – As much as freedom can't be shown by the release of arms, or by staring at someone's face.

— Have you ever wanted to take your eyes out with a spoon?

— That's gross.

— Can you give me a piece of cloth now? – Well, since Hrist is being so kind with you...

— When a gift is delivered, the owner expects it'll be clean for a while.

— Except when it comes to tissues. Hey, nice cravat.

— Thanks.

— I saw you wearing a white one yesterday, but this one is blue.

— Mother kept a set of cravats in her drawer.

— It must be a really nice set of cravats. So...

— No. – These are supposed to be tied on your neck.

— Shucks... Well, I can't convince you to do nothing but walk outside. Come on, Crescent.