Talk Talk - Tomorrow Started

Eight Years Ago

…

Sir Fratley isn't the kind of person who shares his feelings to someone else.

At least not on purpose, he wasn't quite into that sort of thing; and when he did, it always ended in disappointment and hurt. He did not feel like himself when talking about ghosts. Really, what else was there to talk about himself other than past triumphs? He could feel the pain as if it were a physical burden weighing down his body, like the harsh rain pouring unforgivingly upon his shoulders.

It was hard work for Fratley to even look at others for more than five minutes straight without feeling some kind of sadness tugging at his heartstrings. Ignoring the emptiness shed by Burmecia's hundreds of widows, he didn't understand why people found it so difficult to give their heart away or find someone who was willing to take care of it in hard times.

Why couldn't they just pretend to be happy with themselves and share that very happiness for those who need it? Why did it have to be so bloody painful? The answer to those questions had long since stopped being clear to him. And maybe it would never be again.

If there was not anyone else to be related to, someone who's there to understand how he feels about the world around flooded in a state of uncertainty and unrest, someone who could understand him better than he does with himself… Then he'd probably never fall in love again.

It was a depressing thought but one that had become very comfortable to think over the years. The idea of finding love made Fratley distraught and sick, yet somehow it still managed to fill him with hope. And that hope felt too much like something that could never really come true.

— Fratley, you silly bum! – Said Freya, poking his nose.

— Huh? – Fratley is left out of its meditative stance. He looks around, confused, to find a familiar face staring right through him.

— You're supposed to be looking after me. Don't let me down. – She laughed. There was nothing sinister about her laughter. Freya was a nice girl and she loved to joke, but Fratley knew well enough that there was always some kind of dark hidden under her playful exterior.

— I'm sorry. I… I…. – Before Fratley could continue to talk about how dreadful and deep is the bottom he found his dear homeland sunk at, Freya put a finger across his lips, effectively silencing him.

Her other hand gently caressed his cheek while she smiled sweetly at him. He couldn't help but stare. Even though Freya didn't really pay any attention to his appearance, her eyes still held so much emotion in them.

— Don't say anything. Just stay here with me, alright? That'll do us both good.

— Okay... – Fratley hesitated, wondering what exactly he should do now that there was no immediate crisis. As long as he kept himself occupied with Freya, there was nothing to worry about.

— Which one should I pick? – Behind the folding screen, Freya picked up two pieces of clothing and showed them to Fratley, who sat on the bedside.

— I don't know. The red one, maybe…

— Just you and me, my friend. We've been together for so long. – Freya replied.

— I know. – Fratley blushed, his cheeks red like strawberries. Freya popped out her head out of the folding screen and opened her eyes toward him, giving him a small smile.

— I was talking about the red coat, dummy! But yes, you've been a nice company too, dearly Fratley.

— Gee, thanks. – Fratley felt flattered by that sudden remark. To be called dearly by the lady he felt so much for was quite pleasant. Yet, why did he feel a tight knot around its neck? – Uh… Freya?

— …Yes? – Freya asked, humming a song while taking off her trousers. He could spot her naked tail out of the screen and it was certain by now that she didn't wear anything.

Fratley swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He looked at the cracked and dull ceiling, pretending to stay away from such repulsive thoughts. He found it utterly disrespectful to think of Freya like that, his fertile imagination picturing her unclothed body did him no favors whatsoever.

— Can we talk… About stuff? – Fratley said, looking at anything and any shape that he didn't find reminiscent of a female's body, like a door. A plain wooden door was fine. – It seems like we don't have a lot of time right now.

— Don't we? – Freya said, looking at the window. A sudden gust blew into the room and the curtains fluttered. She frowned as if disappointed, but didn't speak anymore. Right after closing the window, the room felt kind of warm for the Burmecian lady. Fratley turned away slowly, wincing in anticipation for what Freya might ask next.

— Gosh darn it, I feel so embarrassed… – Fratley took courage and took a peek at the nude white-haired lady in front of him. Her face was painted a light rose color, but he knew she would turn an angry shade of crimson if he so much as looked her way.

— You shouldn't be. You are a grown man, after all. – Said Freya. Fratley had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. What sort of a response was that? Of course he would be awkward, even if he was that much of a grown man like she said. But this was Freya. She could make him feel like the most confident person in the world and yet make him blush like a teenage boy.

— (She's doing it on purpose.) – Thought Fratley. – (To make me feel embarrassed and I don't know why. I mean, it's not like I'm here to comment about her pair of breasts, or that round-shaped, uh… Dear Lord, why me!? What did Freya see in me to behave like that? She's walking around wearing no pants, and I don't feel like saying anything that ruins our friendship. We are more than friends, that's undeniable.)

— You wanted to tell me something? – Freya came out of the folding screen, now wearing a matching pair of green camisoles with cute frills and a butterfly ribbon at the tip of her tail. In short: she was absolutely breathtaking.

— (Focus, Fratley. Just stay focused.) Freya, I've been meaning to tell you something. – Fratley said, leaning forward and putting a hand on his face. – But I just can't seem to find the words.

There was a momentary pause where neither of them spoke, before Freya finally turned her eyes from the windows to look at him.

— What do you want to tell me, Fratley? – She asked. She sounded so gentle, like a mother, and it took everything in him not to start crying. Freya's skin was tanned and her hair white like milk, but she seemed to be made out of soft clouds. Everything about her was warm and inviting, even her eyes.

— I have been thinking… – Fratley said, looking down on his knees. – About moving forward and what the future holds for both of us, so…

His voice trailed off and he bit his lip. What was he going to say? How was he going to express himself when every word he tried to say felt weak and clumsy in comparison? Finally, he decided to just go for it.

— It feels like my heart is breaking every time I look at you, which is pathetic and childish, really. But it does and I'm scared I might ruin everything… – He admitted, still staring at the floor. His stomach tightened, trying to suppress an urge that was becoming stronger by the minute. He continued. – Freya Crescent..You deserve everything in this entire universe and I wish I could offer it to you, but I just can't...

A single tear rolled down Fratley's swollen cheek, until it fell and bumped against one of its toes.

— ...I can't love someone else. – He sniffled. Fratley felt his throat tighten as his heart clenched painfully.

Freya reached out for him, resting her hand gently on his knee. She squeezed it gently, her fingertips barely brushing against his leg, causing him to shiver. After several moments, he turned to see Freya smiling at him.

— Freya, you understand what I mean? About taking the next step in our relationship? – He asked, wiping his eyes. Her smile only grew wider. Fratley smiled back despite himself and wiped the tears from his eyes once again.

— I do. – Freya answered. – You've been such a wonderful company these past few months and we should have the rest of our lives together.

— We will. Trust me, darling. – Fratley paused briefly. – So how about Amarant? – He asked bluntly.

For a brief second, she looked almost sad and Fratley had no choice but to agree. There were times Freya felt so distant, not only in physical lengths, as if by traveling around the world outside Burmecia with her longtime friends, but also emotionally. Freya's thoughts ran deeper than the deepest trench in the ocean, and it was a struggle not to drown because of that.

— I heard you two are doing well together.

— Yes, I've been meaning to talk with you about him. – Then, her smile faded a little. – I can't lie to you; this won't make things easy either. But Amarant's a great person when you get to know him better.

— I see. – Fratley replied. – Nothing against, but if both of you happen to, you know... I'll humbly accept it.

— There's nothing going on between me and Amarant. – Freya said, with both hands in chest. – Nothing.

Fratley raised his eyebrows, not believing her one bit.

— Yeah sure. – He responded, shaking his head. They remained quiet for a couple of seconds before the silence became unbearable.

— We became close friends. – Freya said, looking at her hands. – That's all it is. We clashed and bantered against each other, we were forced to go on an adventure together, we're close... And I thought you were dead, so it was the right thing to move on and build new relationships.

— I comprehend. – Fratley said. He could understand where she was coming from but sometimes you simply cannot understand another human completely. He was just too used to thinking with his own two feet.

— But Amarant never asked for more. He might look tough and strong with all that muscle, but I know him better, and he was afraid to take the next step. – Freya said, being honest with her partner.

— And what happens now? Between you two? – Fratley asked. They both knew that things were only going to get worse as time went on.

Freya had been right to keep her relationship private, it didn't help matters. Not that he wanted to know about their intimacy details, sexual activity, or anything like that, although that certainly improved his mood. But what happened to her and Amarant? Did they end things? Was it permanent? He was in doubt, and the rumors he heard from people's mouths made him feel jealous, and how he hated to feel like that.

— We've talked about that. Amarant Coral and I… We are friends and we're happy. Nothing more. – She repeated. Fratley nodded slightly, feeling relieved. He didn't want her happiness to be ruined by any silly arguments. He didn't want anyone to hurt her, least of all Amarant.

— Tell me more about these adventures you've had. – Fratley inquired, trying to distract himself from worrying about Freya and Amarant, but also curious about what it was like living alongside a human in the first place. A human with pale blue skin and red dreadlocks. And the beard, don't forget the silly chinstrap beard of his.

— Well, have I told you about the time Zidane used his own tail as a fishing rod? – Freya laughed softly as her expression brightened immediately, almost glowing with excitement. It warmed Fratley's heart.

— Nope. Haven't heard this one yet.

— Well, lemme tell you… We were on a picnic. – One thing that Fratley enjoyed a lot about Freya were the stories she told him. He wondered to himself if all she said was true or a kind of true straight out of a fever dream. Some of her tales sounded so ridiculous and absurd that it felt like living in a completely different reality. – …He said 'I got one! I got one!' and it was a really small fish biting his tail's tip. Garnet said she was glad it was that small, or else it would swallow its entire tail, and Zidane had just yelled, 'Ow, ow, OW!,' in his weird way, which meant that he was fine even though the tail had been badly hurt.

— Why would he do that? – Fratley said, perplexed and about to burst into laughter. – Sounds so stupid.

— That's so Zidane. – Freya giggled again before continuing with her story. – But anyway, I asked him what happened. He said, "I caught something good" and I asked, "What did you catch", and he said "You." God, I wanted to hit that smug face so hard…

— He's like a little kid sometimes, and very smart. You'd think after he got married he would finally settle down and get serious, but not really. – Fratley nodded sympathetically.

— Yes. It's hard for me to believe he's always so carefree and happy. Even though he's been through some tough times I wonder how Zidane managed to grow up so fast. Maybe that's just a part of growing up. He seemed so much younger than me. – She paused, thinking about Zidane's antics a bit, then went on. – Anyway, I can see why Garnet likes him. He makes her life exciting, so does mine. Sometimes I forget to be angry when I'm around Zidane, and we have fun together.

— I suppose it would be nice for him to get more serious for once though. But I guess that would take away its charm. – Said Fratley .

— I wish he could live with us, but he has to rule a kingdom, so... Heh. It wouldn't be fair of me to make him stay here forever, but he deserves better than that. After all, he deserves a normal life. – Freya sighed at the thought. The words 'normal life' were miles away from her mind. – And maybe, someday, I will find it.

— Yeah, maybe. – Fratley said, standing on its own feet. – Well, it's about time. Are you ready?

— Ready. – Freya promptly said, wearing off a red raincoat and a pointy Dragoon's hat. She looked adorable, though Fratley refused to admit it. Freya was a good friend, even if her personality was a bit eccentric.

— Right. Let's go.

…

Amarant Coral hates the rain.

He hates the dark, rainy days. He hates the constant pounding of the downpour against the window pane. He hates all the grey, miserable weather, the thunder that makes everything shake with fear and all the black clouds that cover over the blue sky reminds him how dull and dreary his life is.

There are so many things he can do in this world, he could be anywhere, but Amarant isn't sure what he would like to accomplish by just sitting around, doing nothing. What kind of life could a man like him live? What is there for him to achieve? It feels almost as though his body is floating on a cloud above his head. His thoughts float away from his body whenever he goes outside into the open air, he never knows where they go until later when they drift back, and when they find their way to his body, well... That is something he doesn't understand. His body is simply there, right? How should he feel? It shouldn't matter if he feels anything at all, but it does. It matters very much.

The rain is still pouring down, and he wonders if he should get out of the bench and take a walk through the city. Maybe he should go see some of the wonderful sights only Burmecian architecture can offer with its dazzling visuals. Maybe he should help the workers with the reconstruction of their ruined homes and shattered pride as an act of benevolence, or merely a gesture of kindness, proving that mankind isn't all about war and destruction. Instead, he prefers to be sitting still, watching the rain wash the cobblestone path below and a few children playing amidst the wreckage.

— Rain is cold today. – Amarant muttered.. – I like cold water. Hits the skin, makes me think less. Don't have to think about that, I am safe here and no one can reach me. No one knows where I am, nobody cares, don't think about it.

He misses the sun. He misses the warmth of summer days and the sunlight streaming down on him. But those days are gone now, replaced with an endless sea of gray. The rain reminds him that he was once alive, that this is still true, even after everything has been taken away. A wave of nostalgia washes over him for the good times, when his parents were alive. He wishes they could have lived longer, but they aren't here, no matter how much he misses them. Whatever, they were not that much of a good example for their child.

They didn't want him, and that's that. But that doesn't stop Amarant from feeling guilty about it. They had always tried to be there for him, even though it seemed impossible to them to provide for a young child and raise a son alone. But they did try their best. Even though he grew up without their love or affection, they gave him everything they could. And he appreciated it greatly, he truly did. And yet, they never seemed to care enough for him.

Maybe it wasn't their fault, it was his own. Maybe his own selfishness prevented him from understanding that loving parents don't need to be perfect. Maybe he was just too naive and innocent. Either way, he doesn't really know why his parents couldn't give him more, or why they couldn't support him as much as they should. He has accepted the fact that they aren't going to answer any of these questions, and that's alright. Let them rest, past is past, live now or don't live at all.

— Hello, Salamander. – It was Freya Crescent's voice that snapped him out of his daydreaming. He had almost forgotten that she was supposed to be coming to visit today.

— It's been a long while since someone called me that. – He replied, looking at the Burmecian Dragoon. The two of them.

— I suppose it has to do with the hair. – Fratley said, squinting his eyes as he looked closely at Amarant's fiery red strands.

— And I suppose your name's Fratley because your mother could not think of a better pun. – Amarant said, shedding a wry smile.

— How is it going? You stand in the middle of rain like that, I won't be surprised if you get a cold. – Freya stood in a serious stance while she watched Amarant being swallowed on its self-pity grave.

— I am okay. – He lied, but with the intent of not upsetting Freya, aware of the pressure she has been through. – And you?

— Just chilling. – Freya said.

— Me either. – And Fratley added. An unnecessary addition, thought Amarant. – How's it going? Have you found a job or something?

— Not yet. It's hard to work in the shadows when your face is very well known. – Said Amarant, reminiscing of the old days where he was a mercenary making its way to fame at Treno. He crossed paths with a brat called Zidane and his life has changed since then. For better or for worse. – Besides, the mercenary's business is over. I'm more of a dignified person than before, buddy.

— Yes. For sure. – Often Fratley left a wry impression of himself to others, even if he didn't mean that. He also didn't know much about Amarant, not like how much Freya did.

— So, where are we going? – Asked Amarant, casually laying his muscular arms between the two Burmecians, who felt rather uncomfortable about it. – I suppose the lovely couple could show me what's in town.

— Not much to get your interest in. – Freya said, as the three of them walked around like a sort of freaking chimera between rats and whatever Amarant was. It said he was human, but that blueish skin was not one could consider being human.

— We've got the fountain at the main square, which's a lovely place to hang out. – Fratley said, feeling like he's been squeezed like a sponge. – We also got the majestic Burmecian Palace, which is currently being rebuilt, and the church, which is also going through renovations. The Burmecian Armory and Treasury area is getting its ancient arsenal and historical heritage restored, the giant golden statue of at the uptown area of Lord Gizamaluke may have a few cracks but it looks fine and open to public, and my favorite monument, the Floating Gardens of Reis, they may not look as green and lively as they used to, but we are planting new seeds and it will look wonderful by the next few months, I can assure you.

— Gee, is there any place that isn't undergoing some sort of renovations? – Amarant said. He could not ignore the despairing and forlorn state Burmecia found itself at, and how much of an impact Alexandria's invasion had on everyone's lives.

— We could go eat something. – Freya said. Most of the time her smiles felt forced for Amarant, as if a Knight must be, by obligation, an inspiring model everytime. Like she pointed out beforehand: Any Dragoon Knight can be a child's first. And who is the most affected by war other than children.

— Sure, why not? I'm starving. – Amarant shrugged his shoulders, trying to act as indifferent as possible. He doesn't want to tell her that he thinks this is boring. It's hard to look forward to boring things when it rains like forever.

— Um, well, we can just walk around a little bit, it's okay. – Fratley said, acting like a weakling bastard. A charisma parasite, so Amarant pictured in his head. He didn't hate the guy's guts, just the way Fratley looked like a simpleton most of the time, not the awesome legendary Knight he heard a lot about, coming out of Freya.

And whatever the heck Freya felt for him, he didn't quite understand. Maybe he's a good guy disguising himself as a wimp on purpose. Someone who acts defenseless not as a huge flaw, but rather as a strength. In fact, nothing much has been heard about Fratley, other than his amnesia and the fact he's been responsible for defining Freya's knighthood and defiance, which earned Amarant's respect and admiration.

— Hey, Freya! – On their way to a decent restaurant, the party comes across a young child.

— Hello, James. – Freya greeted him with a bright smile. – How are you doing?

— It hurts a bit, but I'm fine!

— My, that's some good news. – Freya nodded enthusiastically. James offered her a gift. – A flower? For me? Oooh… Thank you.

— (He looks like a mummy.) – Amarant whispered to Fratley, to which the later looked at the red-haired man with disgust.

— (Please, Amarant. He's got half of his body burnt by a Black Mage and has been living since then. Boy is truly a hero, and you feel the need to make such distasteful comments…)

— (Oh, sorry.) – Fratley was a prick, but Amarant immediately recognized how insensitive he was at times.

— …Have you seen the lucky cloud? Please tell me if you see it. – James said, waving its hand to the red Dragoon. – See you later!

— Bye! Have a nice day! – Freya said, putting the flower she got between her ears. It was a purple passion fruit flower, particularly pretty and very unusual for a blossom.

— I love kids. – Fratley said, letting go of Amarant's arms. He held out his hand towards Freya, and she took it gratefully. Their hands were laced loosely together, fingers interlaced and intertwined.

— There are many sniveling brats and sissy pants around, but often you find those who are not like that. – Eventually, after wandering around for almost three hours straight, Amarant started to realize just how tired he was from walking around everywhere.

— Kids have vivid imaginations, which is almost always a wonderful thing. But sometimes their imaginative brains come up with scary stuff. – Said Freya, who didn't look as cheerful as before, but rather pallid like she just saw a ghost. And perhaps she did. – I remember meeting a little girl who swore she saw her dead parents rise from the grave, and then she showed me her horrific drawings… For a child, she had talent, and a kind of disturbed mind as well.

Fratley had no idea of what to say, other than somehow bring comfort to his darling. That ominous, grievous tone was very unlikely of her. Amarant mused to himself about Freya and how much she has been grinning with a sort of despair lately, as he thought. However, he realized her smiles do not look all that forced, like a dentist stretching out your jaw with its tools. Freya grew up in a harsh environment and has learned to appreciate the little things in life, and how one person's reaction can have a huge influence over another, especially the little orphaned kids.

Given how long they had spent walking around aimlessly, Amarant was starting to wonder if he should have just stayed home. He was getting hungry, and he knew that Freya was probably getting hungry too. So did Fratley, not that he cared. He didn't want to impose on her, but he was beginning to think that he wouldn't be able to keep walking for an eternity.

Until… They stopped in front of a small house. It was tiny, but bright colors shone from inside the building. It didn't look beautiful, or even gorgeous, just presentable, decent compared to the rest of Burmecia's fallen debris. What caught their attention was a poorly written menu which displayed ''Lizard tail'' in crooked lines. Because poor literacy means… Maybe it's just a small detail, or a gratuitous red flag.

— Lizard tails…Yum! – Freya's tongue slipped out of her mouth as she felt a faint smell of childhood's meal. – They're my favorite! You better try one, Amarant.

— You sure want to come inside this place? Eh, it feels a bit suspicious. – Amarant said. He was not the grammar police to send people to grammar jail, but he could not ignore the blatant obvious grammar errors in the menu. Freya was blinded by nostalgia and too lucid to care.

— I agree. There might be better places to go after if you want quality meat. – Fratley said. Something about that 'restaurant' didn't feel right. It was a kind of sixty sense when it came to detect bad stuff about to happen.

— Good afternoon. – The woman inside must have seen their silhouettes outside, because she stepped out of the door before Amarant and Freya had even reached the entrance. Her eyes landed immediately upon Freya's arm which rested around Fratley's shoulders. – Oh! If it isn't Lady Freya, Sir Fratley! And… Uh… I'm sorry, but who are you?

— Name's Amarant, but you can call me Mister Amarant.

— Nobody calls you like that. – Fratley interrupted. Amarant looked straight at him, with fiery eyes. – Just saying…

— Pleased to meet you! – The Burmecian woman said. – My name is Cicely. Do you want to come in?

— Well… – Freya looked at Fratley, who shook his head, and then at Amarant, who did nothing but cross its arms in a vague way that seemingly conveyed nothing. There were better places to go, but the Dragoon felt a need to be receptive to a guest's hospitality. – We're hungry. Your menu says you got lizard tails, is that right?

— Yes! I do have some fresh and yummy lizard tails. – Edda replied, walking at the door. – Come in, please.

— Freya, you didn't… Whatever. – Fratley sighed.

— You'll regret this. – Amarant felt like he had no power over Freya's decisions, and so he followed her inside.

Laughter, cackles and screams! All coming out of a bunch of children. A whole lot of children, running at the stairs, sitting on a table, laying on the floor, were spread around the entire house. One, two, three, ten, twenty, twenty-six, thirty… So many infants that Freya could not keep counting them up. There was a sudden moment of silence where all of their curious eyes stared at the two Dragoon Knights (a few who also paid attention to Amarant, though not as much as they did to Burmecia's finest warriors), a moment of contemplation and peacefulness broken by a baby's cry, and so the ruckus began all over again, now with the words DRAGOON! DRAGOON! spoken out loud.

In particular, Freya found it cute that she heard herself and Fratley being referred to as 'Dwagoons', 'Dargo', 'Dundun', 'Googoo'; and Amarant got called out as 'Buu' by one of them.

— I've heard about a house full of cats, but this is insanity. – Said Amarant, who felt something rubbery and sticky below his boot. Better not be poo.

— Well, I figured out something was off when it was too quiet outside, but I didn't expect anything like this! – Even Fratley is afraid. Suddenly, the children slowly began to crawl around his body like hundreds of caterpillars upon a tree. He then fell on the floor and disappeared from sight.

— Are all these kids yours? – Amarant asked Cicely, not giving a damn if he sounded mean at all. He felt a slight pull coming from below, to which he saw a bunch of young Burmecians holding on to his legs. It weighed and it became hard to move around.

— Not really. – Cicely explained, organizing the kitchen. – During the siege, my husband and I found the little ones abandoned around the streets and we took them to a safer place. Some of their parents came back, but others were not so lucky.

— Oh! Hi there. – Freya kneeled before a girl who had been pulling her dress. – And who are you? That's a nice doll you got there.

— She is mute. There's no use talking to her. – A boy with a paper helmet approached, raising a sword, also made of paper. – Hi! Pleased to meet ya! Y'see, Mary's throat got cut by a rock.

— I see. And who would you be, my little fellow?

— They call me Rodney. Sir Rodney. – He said, as Freya patted his head. – Please, m'lady! Don't pat a knight's head while he's on duty.

— Understood! – Freya salutation to Rodney, playfully.

— Help me… Somebody help me… – Fratley left a faint yell, as the children stepped over, drooled and snuggled on his stomach.

— Don't worry! Sir Rodney's gonna take care of these tiny devils!

— And don't forget me, Rincewind! – Another kid raised from the crowd, with sheer confidence in face.

— AND DWON'T YOU FWORGET ME TOO, SIGWURD! – And so did a tiny migraine inducer.

— Captain Faris, at yer service! – A girl with laurel curls and a round spoon at hand said.

— Butz, at your service! – Said a boy with caramel fur.

— HAHA, BUTT! – Sigurd laughed. Seven year-old humor…

— It's Butz. My name is Butz!

— Oh, Sir Rincewind! Sir Sigurd! Faris and Butz, hehe… Sorry. You've come in a moment of great turmoil! – Rodney said, addressing each of his siblings. – Please help me save Sir Wormley!

— It's Fratley!

— Yes, sorry! Let us help Sir Fratley! – Rodney shouted in exhilaration. – Remember, they're our brothers and sisters, no harm! This is a rescue mission.

— Yesiree! – Faris said, as she and her brothers carefully took away the yawny babies out of Fratley's body.

— Hang in there, Frat! – Rincewind was a champion of the spit at distance challenge, not that he was very proud of it, but he was very quick at picking up his siblings and putting them to sleep on a cradle.

— MINIONS OF EVIL! YOU HAVE GWONE TOO FAR! – Sigurd bellowed. – MY SPWEAR SHALL PURGE THIS LAND OF YOU!

— It's good to know that I have inspired someone else. – Fratley said in a muffled voice. He felt flattered, despite being numb.

— Come on, Jack, get up. Get up! – Faris started to get annoyed, poking one of them with her spoon. Butz felt awkward for a moment, but he was glad it was not a knife she had in hand.

— Guys, where do I put Kiwi? – Rodney said, holding a newborn who began to smell. – Eugh! It happened again!

— STINK BWOMB! CWOVER YOUR NWOZES! – Sigurd yelled before collapsing on the floor. It was hilarious and sort of tragic.

— Mom! Kiwi wet herself! – Rodney was at his limit. He is glad that Sigurd will cause him no more headaches, though.

— Rise from the grave! – Rincewind threw a button at Fratley, picturing the wings of a bird emerging out of its belly. He had no Phoenix Down at pockets but plenty of imagination in mind instead.

— Whoa! – Fratley lifted from the ground, feeling relieved. Now he could breathe at last. – Thank you very much.

— Don't mention it! – With the exception of Sigurd, who's out of commission, Rodney and his partners bowed slightly to the huge and thin knight who stood in front of them. – Glad we could help.

— I never thought I'd see you buried beneath children. – Freya chuckled shyly. She felt better knowing Fratley was alright, and that he survived the ordeal.

— Fatherhood eventually comes to all of us. – Amarant grinned at them. Fratley could not think about someone as immature, and a sort of dickhead, like Mr. Amarant could ever comfort a baby. Even with the best of intentions, He would end up scaring the poor thing with its uncanny face.

…

Soon as Freya and her companions were received by Cicely and brought to her kitchen, she noticed that the table and chairs were so spread against the wall that it felt uncomfortable to sit for more than five minutes. And the bathroom… Oh, the bathroom. It emanated from not so pleasant noises and it happened to be closer to the table they sat at. To say that someone died inside there is a compliment, but Freya but she didn't complain much. Like her mother once said, It is impolite to go inside someone's house and talk about how everything lacks organization and delicacy.

A house full of children, and Fratley wondered how many were lying upstairs. He noticed a cockroach upon the ceiling, a fat like fig cockroach that stood upon her head. If that thing fell on his head, it would be like being hit by a turd. The Burmecian prayed that gravity didn't act and that the insect stood there, or else he would scream. He did not want to awake the toddlers cooing and casually sleeping on the floor.

Encouraged by hunger, deprivation and curiosity, Freya wanted to eat lizard tails. Cicely prepared them with care, as noticed on her humbly and gentle expressions coming out of the steam. It smelled nice, and it was just boiling water flavored with salt and other ingredients. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes later, and no lizard tails. Each of their stomachs ached for food, roaring in a symphony of gastric acids that Amarant believed to have filled the entire kitchen.

Afterwards, Cicely brought three clay dishes to the table in, each of them with a lizard tail. More like lizard fingers, or baby lizard tails, because they were so small and short. Do not judge a book by its cover, or in this case, do not judge a tail by its… There was a lot to be judged, not only in regards to size and presentation. Freya was the first one to take a bite, it felt rubbery and salty. Fratley was saddened by the gooey brown meal with undetermined pieces of carrots spread here and there, but he gave it a try. He cut one piece and ate it, to which a grimace of horror and sourness filled his face, paralyzing like a spider's venom. Amarant had trouble sticking a fork on the tail, harder than a jawbreaker.

Despite not being what she expected beforehand, Freya could tell it was a complex dish like no other. After getting her tongue burnt, it tasted like a red meal with soft lettuce. The rice disintegrated before reaching Fratley's mouth, covered in a red liquid shed by the lizard tail that created a strong flavor of fried oat porridge.

— I never thought you would be so pleased at paying the check. – Amarant said to Freya. She was struck by the dissatisfaction on his face more than anything. The last excruciating half hour was the best of her life, if not also the worst. Somewhere in between. Fratley did nothing but nod and remain silent. His stomach turned into maggots and butterflies.

As weird as it sounds, they had a good time together. To meet kind people on the way, walk around town, survive a swarm of kids in your face… Fratley felt fine. The rain fell slowly, down on all the roofs of uncertainty. What the future holds next, he didn't know. He had no idea, and dear Lord, no one needs to know. When he thought about Freya, all the years of sadness fell away from him, there was no need for any self-pity garbage. Not as long as they stood near each other.

— Farewell, Lady Crescent… and Sir Irontail. Take care. – He didn't even notice that the day just ended, with Amarant Coral saying goodbye with a soft speech and a melted heart. Underneath the snarky remarks and overly bitter cynical attitude of a rough and tough man, who used to engage in any sort of meaningless fights for one thin dime, there was this gentle soul who only wanted to help Freya feel better.

As questionable as his sense of humor sounded, Amarant would not dare cross the fields of rain if he didn't know Freya lived here. In this hellhole, as he'd say. Fratley liked to think of that support and kindness offered by the Flaming Amarant as a form of love, maybe even too deeply for his own good. Love is the cure for every evil, love is the air that supports the eagle. It manages to heal many unseen wounds, and to cut your life like a broken knife.

Such thoughts made his heart ache, but in a good way. Fratley thought about saying something foolishly sentimental that made Freya laugh so hard he could swear she would get a cramp in one leg. She took his hand and held it like a precious jewel in her palm. That alone said so much.

And he never thought that she'd lose that light in her eyes.