Florah.
Florah was her name, given to her on the day of her birth.
Little had her Hume father and Gria mother known at the time, but they had chosen the perfect name. She considered it true serendipity, just how close her name had been to the word 'flower.'
They couldn't possibly have predicted the direction her life would eventually take...
...
Growing up had been difficult. It was not due to a lack of necessities, nor was it a shortage of love. Her parents had been both upstanding citizens and fine caretakers.
However, when it finally came time for her to attend school and make friends with other children her age... she struggled.
The other kids had been too loud, too obnoxious, and, at times, too cruel. Young Florah had been quiet, polite, and... perhaps overly sensitive to the words of others.
After failing to truly connect with others, she had sought refuge in solitude. The serenity of nature drew her in, and, eventually, nature started to take notice of her.
Plant-kin, the only creatures she truly felt comfortable around, began to gather near her any time she ventured out to the woods.
In time, she would learn to speak without speaking, to communicate with the plants that had taken to her. She slowly began to feel a connection between herself and the wilderness that had kept her company.
...
Her parents had been overjoyed the day that she'd announced to them her intentions to begin studying geomancy. Whether it was because she was taking initiative at such a young age or because her mother, too, had dabbled in it, she was never truly sure. However, that didn't change the fact that they supported her decision every step of the way.
The staff, the equipment, even tutoring... All of it had been provided for her.
And... it was exhilarating. The ability to channel nature's power through her own two hands, to feel the earth run through her bones... it was all she had anticipated and more.
The sun beamed, and the wind sang. A bright future laid ahead of her.
...
It was one day, as she made her way back to her woods, that she saw it.
Death.
Death and destruction, in the form of swarthy workmen and rugged loggers, hacking their way through the forest she had once thought of as a second home.
Trees, reduced from proud, towering presences to mere stumps, meekly peeking out of the ground. Her favorite stream, gone, filled in by gravel and debris. And the Plant-kin...
They, too, had not been spared. Everyone, from the smallest Tomato to the greatest Malboro... torn to pieces… murdered… to make way for the intruders to continue their work.
It was a tragedy. It was a disaster. It...
That night, she had gone home hollow.
...
It was the next day that she'd run away from home, at the tender age of 15.
Deep, deep into the forest, where she would live amongst the trees, with those she truly belonged with.
She had learned just how fragile it all was, just how vulnerable the Plant-kin were. Someone had to make sure that they were properly cherished, protected from the cruelty of the world.
She would be Florah, Guardian of Nature. Long may she live.
...
In truth, she had not lived as she'd intended for very long before she found conflict. Or rather, it was conflict that found her.
Within a month, people, the same types that had ruined her previous home, had set their sights on her glade. The trees were robust, their wood solid. It was only natural that they would come looking.
Even looking was dangerous when it was from men such as them.
Florah met them with force, aided by her new, close friends. Bringing down the heat of the sun's rays, channeling the power of the earth, beckoning life itself to heed her call, she fought the intruders.
She did not fight to kill, but rather to injure, so that they would return and warn their brethren never to come back.
It was a flawed plan.
...
Dead men tell no tales, and since the loggers were not dead, they had plenty to tell. About the girl and the dangerous pack of monsters who had ambushed them.
Such an attack could not go unanswered. Not when the Jylland Defenders of the Peace were on the job.
The clan dispatched for the mission was strong, experienced. Despite a pitched battle, a desperate struggle on her part, Florah was defeated and dragged back to Camoa in shackles.
Their biggest mistake was believing that mere chains would be enough to restrain her.
...
A fugitive. A wanted criminal. A girl with a bounty on her head.
How had it all gone so wrong so quickly? How had her simple wish to live in the forest and protect the creatures she cared for come to this? How was it that she was forced to escape captivity, lest her new home, too, be destroyed?
That glade on Baptiste Hill was her home. How could she be punished for defending what was hers?
It wasn't fair... It wasn't fair! She had never wanted this! To run afoul of the law... To be pursued like an animal... She... She...
She sniffed.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to weep. She was no monster... She was just a girl! And at 15, she now felt as if the weight of the world had settled onto her shoulders.
And so, she knelt beneath her favorite tree in the grove... and sobbed. It was as if a dam had broken. Tears spilled out, running down her face, dripping to the ground like a spring rain.
It wasn't fair! There was so much life ahead of her! What sort of life would it be if lived from a jail cell!?
She was scared. She wanted her parents...
Oh... what would her parents think!? Their only daughter, with a Mark on her head. With clans tracking her down.
That thought alone would have been enough to make her cry...
...
As her tears wet the dirt, the sky responded in kind.
A gentle rain began to fall, streaming down from thick, gray clouds. It was as if the earth itself was weeping for her.
Such a thought... It was... reassuring to her.
If the earth felt this way, then surely she was justified. She had the backing of nature.
Florah raised her head. All around her, the Plant-kin had gathered. They couldn't speak, yet she knew that they were concerned.
She sniffled, and then rubbed her eyes.
They were all here... for her.
...She couldn't waste time feeling sorry for herself.
She... she had a forest to protect.
With the earth itself on her side, how could she possibly fail?
...
The next clan sent to apprehend her was... different. Far different than the first. Younger, perhaps less experienced.
Maybe even more impressionable?
A small spark of hope flickered in her chest. Surely they could be reasoned with, or, failing that, beaten in a fair fight.
The rain continued to fall, drenching the area in water. It was a wonderful boon for the Plant-kin.
"Come for me, have you?" She tried to keep her voice steady, an illusion of confidence.
A simple nod answered her question.
Florah looked away. Then, quietly, she muttered, "...why?"
She shook her head, sadly. "I... I have done no wrong."
The... leader of the clan, a boy even younger than herself, did not answer immediately.
"I only sought to defend the sanctity of the green life here on Baptiste Hill."
Still nothing.
A hot streak of anger suddenly arced through her. How could he have the gall to hunt her down, only to not respond when she tried to speak with him?
"It is the ones who harmed my leafy friends who should be punished, not I!"
Finally, finally he spoke, water dripping off of his Paladin armor. "If you were innocent, why'd you break out of jail?"
It wasn't accusatory... but it was ignorant. He had never been wrongfully incarcerated. He had never been forced out of his home. He had never gone to sleep at night, not knowing whether he'd even have a home to come back to!
He simply wouldn't have understood.
"Come back with me now, without any trouble, and they'll go easy on you."
...
Florah glanced between the clan members, their features damp with falling rain.
The Bangaa, clad in signature Dragoon armor, impatiently tapped his fingers on the huge, frozen lance in his hands, awaiting yet another battle.
The Moogle Fusilier, who kept a distance from the rest of the group with an itchy trigger finger, scanned the battlefield.
The Hume Ranger, with remarkably cat-like features, looked away, seemingly conflicted about the whole situation. Yet, she did not make her concerns known.
The Viera Elementalist and Nu Mou Sage, the magical backbone of the group, glanced at each other uncertainly.
And... the Hume Paladin... the leader of the group that sought to capture her... His young features held a look of determination... and nothing else.
This motley crew... surely she... no, they… could take them down.
"That... I cannot do."
She looked to the ground, steeling herself for the fight ahead.
"While I await my freedom, the plants here will surely be destroyed."
She raised her head to the sky, embracing the feeling of nature's sorrow as it cascaded down upon her.
"I will not go back! I will defend this place, my friends... to the end!"
The boy sighed. "I don't suppose I can convince you otherwise, huh?"
...
Persuasion had never been her strong suit...
Try as she might, Florah could see that there was no convincing the adjudged clan to support her, or even to stand down.
A fight had always been inevitable, and she was ready. Her friends were right there beside her, supporting her fight for freedom.
Jowamk, the Tomato who had been far more clever than any other.
Breggio and Bem, the Malboro brothers, holding fast at her side, just as loyal as when she'd fought the loggers.
Sventon, the Great Malboro. He'd been the de facto defender of the forest before she'd arrived, and he had yet to break that habit.
For the sake of the plants of Baptiste Hill, for nature itself, they would fight!
...
No... No, she couldn't go back... wouldn't go back.
Her friends... They had fought for her, given their lives for her...
She was... the only one left...
"No... I... am sorry, my friends. I could not... protect you."
"Run... Grow... Live!"
The tears came once more, soaking her face far more than the rain ever had.
"It's not fair!" she wept, as she fell to her knees. "Why won't everyone just leave us alone!?"
Her entire being ached. Cuts and bruises littered her body, and, with one injured wing, there was no way for her to escape.
Nobody had taken hold of her just yet, but with no ability to fight, it was inevitable.
"Sorry, Florah..." was all the boy had managed to say.
...
This... this was not where it would all end... Her story... was not over. She wouldn't allow it to be.
Florah slowly, slowly rose from the ground and... retreated. She backed away from them, from her enemies.
It was a desperate move, especially for one who could hardly walk.
"Hey, come on. You've already fought enough. Don't make this harder for yourself."
She backed up... until her foot came to the edge of a cliff. Down below, the verdant expanse of the Zedlei Forest stretched far and wide.
If... if she could glide... If she could catch the wind just enough on her one good wing to slow her fall...
She could escape.
And... if her plan failed... at least her final moments would be amongst the trees. Where she belonged…
"H-hey! Wait!"
Clan Gully could do nothing but watch as their Mark, as Florah, leapt off of the cliff and disappeared beneath the sea of green below.
~~~~~~Author's Notes~~~~~~
Wow, so I threw this together in about three days.
Recently, I found myself replaying FFTA2, and this quest really stuck with me. I get that your clan is just doing their job by fighting her and bringing her in, but it always felt a bit sad to me. The combination of the general premise of the quest, her dialogue, the somber music, and the rain (this time the weather had been rain!)... It all worked together to inspire a bit of an angsty one-shot that sought to add depth to Florah as a character and the quest itself.
It says that Florah is a young girl, so I just spit-balled an age at around 15.
TBH, I almost want to write a follow up to this, or even a short series about Florah that continues on from this point, but we'll have to see about that. I mean, my current longfic started out as a one-shot, so anything is possible!