Name: Freya Crescent
Age: 16 (Born July 15th)
Blood Type: O-
Zodiac Sign: Cancer
Height: 187 cm
Eye color: Greenish
Education: Current Dragoon Knight
Laterality: Left-handed
Family: Bartholomew Brandford† Lenneth Crescent†
Hobbies: Stare at the clouds, walk around the neighborhood.
Favorite color: Ruby
Favorite book: Hurtling Moons Of Barsoom
Personality: With a keen eye and sharp mind, Freya is a contemplative person who is very fond of silence. She can be humble and friendly, willing to "kick some butt" depending on her mood. Anxiety tends to get the better of her, so does seeking solace in the past and longing for lost loved ones. Despite that, Freya is up to overcome her fears and worries in order to become a better Knight and a better person.
Yoko Shimonura - Out Of Phase
...
And so I followed Hrist to the door, closed it with the key, and we found ourselves in the streets.
Our helmets work as umbrellas, since we do not mind the rain as strangers do. We grew with it, and it was one of the first things we saw. I see it each day, but I do not feel the same when I discover it. Something that happened a long ago is meant to be forgotten, except when you really do not want to. To keep insisting for something to happen, and it does like a house out of a few stones.
Instead of who I am, I may ask too: What shall I become? A rock remains a rock, until someone takes it with the hand to turn it into a wall. Walls that surround houses, and houses within neighborhoods, within cities, within the kingdoms, and the people as well. Only a few are really trying to make what dreams tell in visions happen to become true.
— What a beautiful tree! – Said Hrist, looking at a cherry tree. – It is still beautiful even with its blossoms withered. – Blossoms that are dragged away by the water to the manholes in the sidewalks, or down the street to somewhere else.
— These trees are one of the few reasons why outsiders come to this place.
— And none of them ask for free water. – With its head watching the clouds, Hrist opened her mouth and drank a bit of water. This is if I can call it by drinking.
— It's because the water that comes from the rain isn't clean enough.
— It's cleaner than the water coming out of the river, in fact. – With that said, Hrist and I kept walking, somewhere else.
— I thought we should have been at the Jugend, Hrist.
— Father ain't there at the moment.
— Where is he?
— Father is with Sir Fratley, solving a case at the court. Sometimes, problems can be brought to an end outside papers. Speaking of action, today you may be able to receive your first javelin, Crescent.
— Really?
— I said maybe. Or, would you rely on your claws alone to do the work? – I would, had they been sharp enough, and had time enough to afford a change of tips.
— The javelin alone doesn't make a Dragoon. – I said, and soon we were walking above the bridge. The river and its temporary beauty passed unnoticed, except for our ears.
— I have noticed, with time, that you keep holding things with your left hand, Crescent. Is it one of your family's cacoethes, perhaps?
— Why? It's just a small detail...
— Which doesn't mean that it can't be a crucial one. Know that all spears are made to be holded with the right hand. Some are so heavy that you need both of them, but mainly the right one.
— You say it as if I didn't know anything about spears yet.
— I'm giving you advice, and that's the way you reply to me.
— Funny...
— What's so funny?
— Mother once told me how she knew father.
— Does this have anything to do with what I've said?
— Kinda of. Since that time, my father has worked with many jobs, and one of them was being the blacksmith's assistant. When father saw mother for the first time, he had nothing on his hands. And she was a dragoon, with more than a spear in hands. It's like he couldn't convey what to say when near someone of more importance, and mother couldn't convey what she learned on training. Her right arm broke when she felt downstairs as a child, so with time mom learned how to use the left hand, and kept using it even after her right one healed.
— You never broke an arm, Crescent. Not yet...
— Can I continue? – Since I heard nothing, but our footsteps... – So, in a world where you are forced to use your right arm for everything, well... How mother tried. To be a Dragoon meant so much for her, and for father too, who a day later, came with a gift. He made her a light-weighted spear, which could be used for the left-handed. Since that day, mother has used that spear, as she began to improve on training and on the streets. Later, they began to know each other, married, and had two sons. Mother wanted a third, or a forty, but could only afford me and Jack.
— So... Uh, sorry, but what you said before... Didn't make any sense. No matter the weight, all spears are right-handed. There are no exceptions.
— You can do anything when you're in love.
— And for the sake of loving someone...
— I wonder what Sir Fratley looks like. – I said, looking at his gift in hands. A nice bracelet, which can't only mean something to offer me luck.
— Soon you'll know, and won't be that impressed. He'll make your skin draw more than sweat.
— You are exaggerating, Hrist.
— Am I? Say that to the scars on my back, this if you can count them all.
— By the way. – I said, almost ignoring what I heard from Hrist. She has a point, but I don't even have my own. – Is he handsome?
— Uh? Who asks those questions!?
— Nothing is that silly to be questioned. – I said, looking at that silly face.
— Yes, but we are speaking about your mentor. You hardly know each other.
— My brother knows him.
— Well, everyone who lives in the countryside knows each other. But this doesn't mean that out of a child poking its nose comes an adult who still pokes its nose. – As much as this Hrist do not step on my feet in a literal sense like she used to as a kid.
— How long have you known Sir Fratley?
— I knew him even before I began to train as a Dragoon. He was a nobody, beginning his career, just like you.
— Is there something in me that isn't on him?
— Despite a lack of noble title, you can't say a man is beautiful, unless...
— So you think Sir Fratley is handsome too?
— A bit, to be fair. But I know that I'm not speaking it as a student to tutor.
— Ain't he our mentor as well?
— Tutor, mentor... One teaches, the other listens.
— We are doing the same things.
— Times change. Before, a student and a teacher were separated. Now they walk together as if they were married, except that I've learned how to hold my breath for a long time.
— Instead of holding your words...
— I do not like to hear my own voice as well, Crescent. It would drive me mad had I been in a room with only my voice reverberating wall after another. Guess that you also feel the same, don't you?
— I also appreciate a bit of silence, if that's not asking too much.
— Oh, you'll appreciate plenty of it during training. This if you do not count the grunts coming out of your throat.
— I'm sure that Sir Fratley will be nice to me.
— Will you be nice to him, on the other hand? – I didn't know what to say. But Hrist says a lot in my place. – Know that he isn't only a punchbag.
— I know.
— He's our mentut.
— What?
— Yeah, 'mentut'... I mixed both 'mentor' and 'tutor' as the same words. What do you think?
— Guess it ain't the time to be giving someone nicknames yet.
— Not your time, Crescent.
...
Not a while ago, Hrist and I went to the court.
Given her father's help, we were allowed to come inside. A place filled with people, and ugly carpets. No wonder why these statues had their eyes covered, so said Hrist, whispering to me. Barely I could hear what she said next, only taking notice of a shy laugh. Even if I listened to what she had to say, I wouldn't find it that funny at all. Despite the colors, a plenty of them compared to outside, this place sheds of a boredom as starting to cobblestone without blinking.
I shouldn't have been here, but that's one of Ezekiel's jobs while outside the Jugend. Other than signing papers, he is still in shape to save people, without relying on a spear. Only a partner, standing there in the middle, sustained by a cane and a strong will, speaking with words sharp as the scratch of claws over a flat wood. There are other ways for a Dragoon to settle down at the end of a battle, as shown by his.
— ...My client here is a victim of one of the cruelest and vilest lies treated as normal by common belief. That a living being is incapacitated, if not, less a being than others due being handicapped. That a society is constituted of those who suffered accidents, and those who made it happen be left in impunity. This woman, unlike the statement of majority, was born with an alleged 'accident'. Yet, she can speak very well, and as it was demonstrated to this court prior, my client can perform any activities outside a home where she had been secluded within, due an inability to walk. A pretext that doesn't prevent this lady from doing whatever she wants, for the sake of her children. Now, the defendant's chair may be empty, which is not the case of the sight shared by many. Except for Justice, who doesn't evaluate by looks that someone like my client can't have the right to live, or a duty to live with like everyone else.
With his final speech, Sir Fratley Irontail wins the case. Following the hit of a wooden gavel, claps of hands are heard throughout the entire room, including mine. And to think I only heard half of his speech... Meanwhile, as we moved into the lobby, Zack and his daughter came near Sir Fratley to congratulate him. As for me, I don't know what to say, or what to do. If I should hold on to a hand colder than mine, other than being led by respect.
Dragoon Knights are so easy to be found, given the color of their outfits. Ezekiel wears blue, Hrist borrows purple, mother didn't want anyone to know her wounds shed of red underneath, and Sir Fratley wears a green like moss for its outfit, though it looks more like dry moss, which's a thing you can hardly spot around. Speaking of it, Sir Fraltey didn't seem to have acknowledged my presence yet, even when I am standing outside the shadows.
_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_
— You were great once again. – Said Ezekiel, to Sir Fratley.
— Everyone deserves our best effort.
_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_
— How had you been holding up, Fratley? – Asked Hrist.
_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_
— …With a cane. – He said, while holding a hat with a single hand. Flaxen strands fall out of his head, now covered by that brown hat with a fancy feather on its top. – Well, besides your father, is there someone else in this room?
— It's me. – I said. Sir Fratley couldn't see me, for a reason. Maybe I haven't granted my presence yet, so… – My name is Freya Crescent.
— Glad to meet you. – He said, as we shaked hands. His hand isn't that cold at all.
— And you must be Sir Fratley, right?
— Oh, just call me Fratley, if you please.
— Fine. Know why am I here?
— Why are we here? That's a question I ask for myself everyday.
_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_
— No, that's not it. What I mean...
— Don't feel nervous, Crescent. You are looking like a ham. – And Hrist had to find a way to interrupt, if this can be deemed as a sort of conversation. Well, at least I'm trying.
— Does she? – Besides asking, I could notice a smirk on Fratley's face. – Well, one of us may disagree. Right, Freya? Now, tell me how you look. – He said, with his two hands on the cane, eyes staring at me, yet unable to look at anything at all. – Given your voice, you must be a woman. A very tall one.
— Really? And what else?
— You look unsure, impatient, and slightly tired. – I don't know what's up with this guy, and what made him stand out as an ordinary person.
— Can't you see yourself in the mirror?
— Well, it's really hard, but I try anyway.
— Freya... – Said Ezekiel, looking at me with a bit of disappointment. Same for Hrist, I guess.
— It's okay. It ain't everyday that you bother to ask someone who can see how they look alike. People only begin to care about a thing when they lose it for real.
— Right. So you are blind? I... I'm sorry.
— Do not feel sorry at all. It ain't worthy, since you didn't know I couldn't see. This is, like, the first time we met, right? Outside mentions, and voices belonging to another. Now, I would like to speak with Freya, not with the helmet.
As soon as he said it, I lifted my head up. I heard once that those who have lost a sense develop other senses, beyond what they used to be. A vision can be replaced by an audition, smell, touch... These are the ways Fratley knows I am here.
— I hope I haven't left a bad impression...
— First impressions tell more than afterthoughts. You can't judge a book by its cover, but you judge it anyway. What you can't do is judge a book by its cover alone, and keep doing so as the only kind of reasoning to be put in your head.
— Do you read any books?
— To this day. It depends on the ink, for a better experience.
— You can read a page given the ink words that were written on it? – That's interesting. I never heard about someone who can do it.
— You seem amused, Freya. I wish I could see a smile as something other than being a curve of lips. And, if you could keep it as we progress...
— So, what Hrist said...
— Do you believe in what she said? Truth or not, that's her opinion. What about yours?
— I don't have any, yet. So, you walk with three legs.
— I couldn't bring my spear to court, so I brought this cane instead.
— Can you walk without them? – I asked, given the way Sir Fratley walked there, and here. As if he was about to tumble on air, or its own tail.
— Without falling? – He asked, in a way its own question said yes, in a way. Besides losing the vision, Fratley lost his legs too. But he stands still. – Unless I give up, which is something I do not. I truly would be in bad shape, had it not been for the Dragoon and its techniques. That's why you are here, right?
— Well, this ain't the right place to do. – Before I could say something, Hrist came in, after disappearing for a while. I thought the world just became a bit quieter, but it was just that.
— Where have you been, Hrist? – I asked, noticing that, other than harsh breaths coming in and out, Hrist was soaked by drops of rain. She must have been in a hurry to reach here.
— I went to the Jugend with my father. Back and forth, since you two haven't followed us, or ever heard our footsteps to begin with. So I came back, wasting energy that should have been wasted on combat.
— Don't you mean training?
— Training or not, it'll be for real this time, Crescent. – Said Hrist, with a heart in his mouth, which ain't the best place to keep it. – Well, father left to the Jugend. So do we, I expect. – And so Hrist left and stood at the front door, crossing arms and concentrating in order to control the surface tension ability as before.
— She is the kind who doesn't like to take a backseat to anyone. – Said Fratley, after hearing the noise coming out of the door.
— I know Hrist as well as you do, even before she began to speak. – With something other than her feet, I mean. – Also, thanks for the gift.
— You're welcome.
— I wonder why you made this bracelet. I mean, of course I liked it, not that my taste in regards to it was the intention at first place, but-
— Lapis lazuli gems are said to bring good luck. – I heard Sir Fratley, near a window. It's a day of white clouds, but for him, there is only darkness. – They are easier to find than four-leaf clovers or horseshoes without being kicked. Aside from that, not everything is arbitrary, since our lives can't be led astray, as much as our choices can't be decided only by the flip of a coin. But where there is luck, there's hope, and I wish both for you, Crescent.
Sir Fratley Irontail... I wish I could have known him before. It's not everyday that you meet a nice person to talk with. He ain't that rigid at all, but guess that everything changes while on training, like Hrist did.
