Author's Note: There's a reason my last author's note said that this chapter "should" be the end of Dirk's brief tenure in the City...because it gave me leeway! Apologies; between working on my other story, surviving yet another layoff (which means more of a workload for me), going on holiday for Thanksgiving, and having more games (Final Fantasy XVI, Mario Wonder, and the Mario RPG Remake), this past month was rather big on distractions.
Alas, onward!
xxxx
/An Excerpt of a Debrief between Monica Vandham and Gray/
"So, Shania figured out his identity?"
"Hrm. Not too surprising."
"And was there any hostility?"
"..."
"Gray."
"...not between them. Not truly."
"But...?"
"She seems to believe that it is a slight against her, putting a former Moebius with her as 'community service'."
"...bloody hell. Wish we had a manual for this sort of stuff..."
"Our manuals were written with the blood of soldiers for generations."
"...that's a good point, Gray. Even six years on, we're still trying to adapt to a world without war..."
"No. Not 'without'."
"No...I suppose not. We still have to be able to fight. But knowing where to draw the line's a tricky part..."
"Which leaves my 'charge' in a bit of bind in the meantime."
"...if only she were on better terms with her family. At least then we could entrust the Reids to help her..."
"They're part of the problem."
"Please don't remind me..."
xxxx
As Dirk's tenure at Polis continued, time slowly passed...
xxxx
/Six Years After the Rejoining/
/Eight Months after Dirk Ran Away from Home/
If there's one thing Dirk hadn't expected as part of his tenure in Polis, it was getting hounded by one of the leaders of the Six Houses.
(Given that she was apparently a descendant of Zeke and Pandoria, he should have been less surprised.)
As such — sitting in the City Camp, overlooking Virid Park — Dirk grimaced as the outlandishly-decorated woman sat down on the bench besides him. "Can't really take a bloody hint, can you?"
"Ah, Dee my Dear, there's very little that can stop my curiosity," remarked Masha Cassini with a delightful gleam in her eyes. Even in spite of the two Lost Numbers standing at attention nearby — perpetual minders, because he was supposed to be on good behavior — there didn't seem to be any real consideration that she was in danger. "After all, it's not often I have a link to my ancestors."
Dirk sighed, rubbing at his temples. "Didn't I already tell you that my old man wasn't actually related to Cassini's Founder?"
"You have. But alas, I've already hounded enough about Lady Linka out of you," she remarked. "And if there's one thing that moi, a Lapidarist Extraordinaire, cannot be accused of doing...it's treading old ground."
"...right." Dirk sagged into the bench, trying to ignore the curdling sensation in his gut. "And if I tell you 'no'?"
"Then I would inquire as to the nature of your reluctance. After all, I certainly don't detect any disdain regarding your family name," she observed, idly filing her nails with a tool that looked like it had been carved directly from a colorful gem. "No, not at all; you're obviously quite protective of your family, and rightly so. Yet the resignation in your tone, your expression, your body language: it's quite unbecoming, if I may be so forward."
That was the other thing which bugged him: she was so snuffing insightful for such a colorful character. "...and if I want to be unbecoming?"
Masha shook her head. "Oh my, such a dreadful approach to life..." The woman cupped a hand around her dainty chin, thinking rather intently about the apparent conundrum facing her. "Hmm...oh, oh, oh! I've got it! A most brilliant idea has come to mind. Something subtle, yet brilliant; imbalanced, yet perfect in its asymmetry! If you'll oblige me, I would like to make you my client for one special work of craftsmanship."
"...isn't it supposed to be the client who asks to become one?"
"Oh, Dee my Dear, you can't think too hard about cause and effect in situations like this. It's best to just...go with the flow."
He wasn't sure what Masha was getting at; however, he was still a proverbial inmate, serving a prison sentence that he deserved much worse for. And so with a bit of reluctance, he agreed.
Over the coming weeks, as Dirk continued going out on scouting missions alongside Gray and Shania Reid, he ended up bringing back samples from their new continent: mostly bibs and bobs of whatever civilization had once lived here, as well as unusual minerals or irregular gemstones of dazzling color. (His 'cohorts' didn't complain; once he explained it was on Masha's request, Gray had merely grunted, while Shania had grumbled under her breath. Situation normal.)
Eventually, he was rewarded.
One day, without so much as a greeting, Masha said "Close your eyes."
"...and if I say no?"
"If you'll oblige, I promise to stop hounding you...for at least an entire month. No guarantees can be made beyond that."
"...fine." Dirk wasn't sure what the woman was going to do; when he felt a strange pinch in his right ear, he yelped with surprise. "The hell did you do?!"
Masha simply held up a handheld mirror.
Dirk froze, staring intently at the earring now dangling from his pierced lobe; the sigils of Houses Cassini and Rhodes, carved from colorful stones, seemed to glare from his reflection. "What are you...?"
"Your image in our databases reflected a rather boring earring," explained Masha. "Though you might not want to acknowledge it, the form of Blackblaze Dirk — of Moebius D — is a very unpleasant shroud around your person. And yet...I think it an admission of defeat, if you decline to paint that form in colors of your choosing."
The impulse to throw the earring away roared within him. "You've taken a rather long time just to insult me," he growled.
"Dee my Dear...if you think it an insult, you've clearly missed the point. Little wonder you were stuck alongside little old Shania," she said with a shake of her head. "Changing the form is rather beyond you, seeing as you are rather intent on running away from your problems. The best you can do at this stage is give the form a more suitable color...one less soaked in viscera, if you'll pardon my vulgar imagery."
He didn't want to pardon her. (Yet he couldn't quite deny her, either.)
xxxx
/Ten Months after Dirk Ran Away from Home/
The other House leader that Dirk met most often besides Monica Vandham and Masha Cassini was one Julian Rhodes.
Unlike Masha's rather roundabout flamboyance, Julian was refreshingly direct: he simply asked for whatever Dirk was willing to tell regarding Glimmer (and her family, by extension), and settled for nothing more.
(His motivation, told rather offhandedly shortly after Dirk's 'community service' began, had been equally blunt: "Records of the old times tended to be lost, or forgotten, after long enough time had passed in Aionios; a nature of how the world itself functioned, I reckon. It would be greedy for me to demand more.")
After a brief aside regarding an old scrap he and Glimmer had been in as kids, he couldn't help but notice Julian's amusement. "What's so funny?"
"...I'm simply reminding myself that our Founders were merely human," he mused.
"Is it that difficult?"
"Well, think about it; after the first City had fallen, they were able to cobble the survivors together into an effective anti-Moebius faction, as if stubbornly willing their defiance into existence. Such figures, to us, were...godlike, after a fashion."
Dirk rolled his eyes. "I don't know whether my sis would've been flattered or appalled by that." After all, it was quite difficult to think too highly of yourself when you had parents were practical paragons in the eyes of the world. Nothin' like being the child of an Aegis to keep your pride in check...
"It's why your stories of her are so valuable, Dee; they're a reminder that we should not fall into the same ways of thinking that we needed to survive in Aionios." Julian quietly gazed at a nearby crowd, observing the people of Polis go about their daily lives: it was both heartening and sobering. "Even though we're trying to be vigilant...this is a world where we don't have to worry about an unending war as our be-all and end-all. We should take the chance for what it is."
Dirk huffed, saying nothing in response.
"...I think I'll write a book about your stories," said Julian after a bout of silence. "A collection of tales, about the Founder of House Rhodes."
"And how do you think you're gonna sell it to the locals?" Dirk asked with genuine curiosity.
Julian smiled. "I'll say...that it came to me in a dream. That would make it more palatable, don't you think?"
Dirk looked genuinely bewildered by Julian's rather blasé attitude. "Are you for real?"
"Is it so surprising?" Julian asked with a grumble. "I imagine people would be rather perplexed if I told them you were the source." After all, even though he still went by 'Dee' in public, the rumor mill was a vicious thing; no one had forgotten about how Ghondor Vandham had dragged him before the Elders. That he was most often seen in the company of Shania and Gray otherwise had led to all sorts of guesses about what sort of scoundrel he obviously had to be. "They'd probably be less likely to believe me."
"Gee, thanks for reminding me."
Julian arched a bushy eyebrow. "You've been here for months, now; yet, save for the times where we Elders seek you out, you mostly avoid trying to socialize. Can you blame the people for thinking of you in similar terms as your scouting partner?"
(Dirk's reluctance to fully enmesh himself with the Cityfolk was a complicated tangle that he was in no mood to unravel.) "Would help if I knew why she has such a large chip on her shoulder." Julian seemed surprised by this admission; Dirk didn't miss his expression. "So, what's the story?"
"...I'll defer to the side of caution and say that she should be the one to tell you. I'd rather not be accused of meddling in inter-House politics."
"Like I'm going to actively get involved with politics?"
"Given your circumstances...?"
He couldn't quite rebut Julian's implication. (Yet he felt the impulse to be combative...)
xxxx
/1 Year After Dirk Ran Away from Home/
The scouting expeditions had uncovered several Titan corpses by now; not quite as large as the eel (now termed the "Kromars' Eel" on their official maps), but still impressive sights nonetheless. Not all of them had been brimming with life; some had died so long ago that any ambient ether had long since faded, leaving stony husks with minimal life beyond molds and hardy critters.
It was underneath one such Titan — a shelled crustacean of same kind, judging by the shape — that the party of Dirk, Shania, and Gray were resting.
Even though Gray had turned in to get some brief shut-eye before the second watch, Dirk and Shania were...conversing, if their silence could be called that.
Months into his stint of 'community service', there was still the strange tension that followed his every move...and hers, it seemed. Though she knew of his past as Moebius D, she had been rather tight-lipped about her own circumstances. (Which was bloody weird, given how the other Cityfolk seemed to treat her like a plague for the most part.) Thinking of the time spent in this state actually brought to mind an 'anniversary' of sorts. "...huh. It's been over twelve months since I left my home."
("And they're probably just fine without you," snidely said the voice of D. "Why let 'em shackle you?")
"...why did you leave?" asked Shania.
Dirk frowned, glaring across the campfire towards his 'senior'. "Why do you want to know?"
"...is it so odd, to want to know why a former Moebius does anything?"
"I don't like your implication," he snarled.
Shania frowned, face set into a stony expression. "It's not like that."
"Then how about you tell me what beef you've got with Ghondor, or the rest of Polis, for that matter?"
"I'm sure they've told you plenty," she murmured.
Dirk snorted. "I don't gossip. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the type to make friends."
"...what would be the point of telling you?" she asked aloud, almost to herself. "You're an outsider; there's nothing you can do to change my fate."
(The sheer incongruity of everything was downright infuriating.) "Then why do any of this? You ain't shackled; there's been plenty of chances for you to run and make a break for it, during these scouting missions."
"The only reason I'm not locked up in a cell is because I'm doing this," she retorted, looking up at the starry night sky; so far into the wilderness, the sky was more of a spotted tapestry than a black canvas. "When I'm away from the City...I feel at peace."
"Then why go back at all?"
Shania impulsively slammed a fist onto the dusty ground, her bared teeth visible in the fire's light. "You wouldn't understand. After all, as you say...you left your home."
"And you don't understand shit if you think you know a damn thing about that!" he snarled, trying not to wake up Gray. "What, you trying to atone for something? Because from my perspective, if you've been wallowing away like this for years, you've managed to accomplish snuff all!"
Shania stormed to her feet, looking down at the younger man with a murderous expression. There was a true desire to inflict bodily harm; a part of him welcomed it. (The rest wondered what the spark was wrong with him.) Until, at last, she sat back down; tension leaked out of her, akin to metaphorical steam from a kettle...until, at last, she confessed. "I betrayed the City to Moebius," she plainly said.
Dirk blinked, keeping his mouth shut.
"I...hated it: knowing there was nothing but endless war to come, with only one life to live...and if you didn't have the right kind of talent, you were nothing; you might as well have not even been a person. I despised it. And so...I wanted to become part of the Cycle. Even if my life would have only lasted ten years, the chance of becoming someone else was...enthralling. To become someone else that might be worthwhile." Shania went quiet, mulling over her next words. "...I didn't know that the City was a Ferronis; didn't know it could move. So when Moebius fired an Annihilator towards the Great Sword...I thought that it meant they were all dead. And I was glad."
(A trace memory came, unbidden: one of a violet brightness, darkly emanating from Agnus Castle; followed by an Annihilation Event, centered near the hilt of the Great Sword. D had considered it quite the lovely show, from his faraway vantage point.) Shaking his head, Dirk added, "And?"
"...but they all survived. And then, confronted by Ghondor...I decided to take my chances, on a new beginning." She pressed her fingers against her temple, pantomiming a gun.
"...bloody hell," grumbled Dirk.
"But I was awoken by X...and instead of becoming part of the Cycle, I became Moebius." Her smile was a bitter thing: pitiful, bearing a wrath that had long since withered away. "Power that I had never possessed; control that I never had before; being able to do what I want...in that world, that meant you were real, that you were someone..."
She must have become Moebius after D kicked the bucket, mused Dirk. "...and then what?"
"...isn't it obvious? I attacked the City. I wanted revenge. I wanted to prove, once and for all..." She paused; in the midst of her reflection, her expression had become quite forlorn. "...ah, but what did it matter, what I wanted to prove? I was still stopped by Ghondor, and by Ouroboros. I fell...and thought that, if nothing else, the pain would finally stop." Looking back up, she remarked, "And yet I awoke in this new world anyway...in a place where everyone knew I was a traitor; where everyone knew that I had attacked them, and had threatened to murder them all. And you wonder why I'm a pariah?"
...well, that's one hell of a tale.
("What a loser," snidely remarked D.)
The impulse to defy his darkness translated to action. "That doesn't tell me why you're still here. If you hate it so much...why not leave?"
"...because...there's no other place for me."
"That's a load of Ardun-shit; this new world's massive."
Shania huffed, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt around them. "To have a place to belong...to make something of yourself...even if I were to go to someplace new, everything that defined me would linger. I would still be Shania Reid...Moebius S...a traitor: that connection would remain...what sort of place would someone like that be able to fit in?" With a cold look, she added, "So if you're going to lecture me, then you can save it; someone able to leave their home and not even look back...who could understand that?"
"If you were a former Moebius, then you'd understand more than anyone else!" hissed Dirk, rising to his feet in a reversal of their earlier positions. Unlike Shania, his anger kept him standing. "I left for the sake of my family, for the people I care about! Because they deserve better than to have someone with a monster in their head!"
Shania stared.
"Do you think I enjoy this? That I like being away from my family, from the people I love? Spark no; it sucks! But I don't got a choice...because no matter what I tried, it wasn't enough; I'm weaker than D. Trying to be stronger only played to his strengths; do you have a voice in your head, mocking you?"
Shania said nothing. (For little did Dirk know that there was no separation between Shania and S; how could there be, for one who had lived only one life, before becoming Moebius?)
"I...I chose this: to pursue a life of frustrating mediocrity, because it means he won't win. But what's your excuse?!"
"My excuse?"
"You say you hate the City, yet you don't want to leave it. You say you're at peace when you're away, yet you always return. You say that being a traitor is what defines you, yet you're still serving your time without complaint! You make no bloody sense!" She didn't immediately answer, so he kept going. "I...I don't know what the deal is with your family. From what little I know, it's complicated stuff. But if you hate it so much...why are you playing by their rules? Why are living down to their expectations?" Looking up at the sky — grimacing at the sensation of cold air running across his skin, reminding of the frailties that came with living — he added, "This isn't Aionios...there's no Flame Clocks, no Cycle...you've only got one life...so if you hate it so much...then change it with your own hands."
Shania's stare was inscrutable, possessing a peculiar character. "...you sound like someone I used to know. Someone I thought was like me...except, she turned to be stronger...better."
Dirk huffed, sitting back down in front of the fire. "Whoever it was, I bet they wouldn't have framed it like that."
"...no. She wouldn't have." Shania looked sternly at Dirk, as if trying to divine something. "...are you changing your life? With your own hands? Even with all of this...'frustrating mediocrity', as you called it?"
"...I'm trying. It's not easy. But that's what I've chosen. Beats trying to burn everything down...because it would only prove him right." Looking down at the flickering flames, he muttered, "You've got the last watch. You should sleep."
Shania lingered, looking as though she wanted to say something more. Yet, she moved away towards her sleeping bag, saying nothing more.
("She's more honest with herself than you," mocked D.)
He ignored the phantom within his subconscious. (Yet he dreaded the thought of him being right...)
xx
"You truly think he understands?" whispered Shania's voice within her own mind. "You're nothing alike..."
She said nothing: merely staring at her own hand, shrouded though it was by the night's gloom.
xx
At the edge of the camp, Gray had listened to everything that had just occurred between Dirk and Shania.
"Hrm," he grumbled quietly.
xxxx
Author's Note: Okay, we're not quite done yet with Dirk's time in Polis. But it's been a while since my last update, and this felt like a good spot to end on.
