CoN 25th Anniversary: 1997-2022
FFVI fic - A Night at the Opera

Posted: 21st December 2008 14:20

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Hey everyone! The following story is a product of cabin fever from being snowed in and spare time from the end of finals. Yep! It's finished!

This is a mite long, but that's because I always liked the opera scene. I used to do both music and theater way back when. happy.gif

So! Without further ado, here we go!
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Celes Chere had never really been one for the arts. In all her years in Vector, she had not once attended a play and she had never paid any attention to the public arts that Gestahl commissioned.

She’d certainly never tried to sing.

That was why she wished that she could strangle her three companions as she read over the score for the opera in which she was suddenly going to star. She couldn’t read music and she couldn’t carry a tune. The only reason why she was being subjected to this indignity was because she had more than a passing resemblance to some opera floozy named Maria who had the bad luck of being hounded by an obsessed fan. The Returners needed said fan’s airship as a means to sneak into Vector, and voila. A halfbaked plot was formulated in the mind of the Returners’ resident “treasure hunter,” the underfed and overconfident Locke Cole.

If there was such a thing as poetic justice, Locke would be singing the damn opera.

Celes looked at the notes and tried again, attempting to make the words match the tune being halfheartedly plunked out by the opera house’s pianist.

“Better,” the pianist said, even though he had a painful look on his face. “It’s sounding better.”

“What’s that note there?” She pointed at a note in the score.

The pianist adjusted his glasses and hit a key on the piano. “That’s a D.” He hummed the pitch and hit the key several more times for emphasis. “Deeeee. Deeee.”

“And, ah, that one?”

“That’s a rest. No music or singing there.”

Celes tried to match the pitch of the note he had just played and her normally husky voice began to rise higher and higher until she was hitting high, creaky notes.

“Careful there,” the pianist said over Celes’ singing, “you don’t want to blow out your cords. You’re way too far out of the tessitura!” He stopped playing and sighed. “Let’s try this. Drop your voice down an octave.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sing lower. With your normal voice.”

The former general tried again, this time with better results. At least now it didn’t sound like someone torturing a violin.

“Better,” the pianist repeated, this time sounding somewhat sincere. “You’re singing in a minor key right now, but it’s a lot better than that godsawful falsetto.” He gathered up his music and motioned upward with his chin. “Go on ahead – our time’s up. We’ll practice more before tomorrow’s sitzprobe. You’re wanted on stage.”

“For what?”

“You get to learn how to dance today.”

Celes could hardly wait.



Harvey Federico, best known as Draco, the star of the Jidoor Opera House, looked completely put out as he bounded up the stage steps and into the middle of the wedding waltz in Act II of The Dream Oath. The other dancers moved to accommodate him as he strode up to where Celes and the actor playing Draco’s foil Ralse were clumsily dancing.

“Maria! All during your aria you were a half-step flat! Couldn’t you hear the wavering pitches between you and the orchestra?”

“I…” Celes wished she could disappear. The actor playing Ralse gave her a pitying look as they stopped the waltz practice. “I was?”

“Yes!”

Ralse waggled his finger at Draco in mock reproach. “We’re busy. Can’t you whine somewhere else?”

Draco gave a sigh of great annoyance and headed for the backstage. “When can we get the real Maria back?”

Ralse rolled his eyes as he reassumed the waltz position with Celes. “Don’t pay Harvey any mind,” he told her as he guided her through the steps very slowly. “He’s just wound a little too tight.”

“Thanks, ah…”

“Oren. But since you’re new, the Chief said to stick to method acting around you. So that means I’m Ralse and he’s Draco.” The actor grinned in spite of himself. “And remember – you hate me!”

Celes gave a groan of frustration. “Can’t you sing Draco’s part?”

“Not a chance. Our temperamental star back there is the dashing male lead and I’m just the sleazy comic-relief villain. Besides, my voice is too high and I can’t project like, uh, Draco can. Ever notice that the orchestra decrescendos when I sing? They play more softly, I mean.”

“I thought that was a little odd.”

“Yeah. That’s not in the original score.” Ralse looked down at their feet as Celes barely avoided stepping on his foot and ended up tripping over the hem of the dress Maria had lent her for authenticity. “You’re on the wrong beat again.”

“Sorry.”

“Have you ever danced before?”

“No.”

Ralse grimaced and let go of Celes. “Okay. Give me a moment.” He looked deep in concentration as he looked out at the stage. His eyes darted from one location, back, and then back to the original spot. He spun around slowly in place, eyes still narrowed in thought, and then he grinned. “I think I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face the empty audience. “Hey, stage manager!”

The perpetually nervous and melodramatic opera stage manager turned away from the extra dancers and toward the back of the stage. “What is it now?”

“Your presence is requested on the dais.”

Muttering something and shaking his head, the man quickly bustled over to where Celes and Ralse had been struggling through the waltz.

“I’ve got a brilliant idea,” Ralse announced, “and it might solve a few of our problems at once.”

“Do tell,” the stage manager said dryly.

“Let’s make the waltz just a simple little dance. Like so.”

He looked at Celes and laced his fingers with hers as they assumed the dance position. “Follow me,” he said as he stepped backwards three times. Celes followed him.

“Now reverse,” he said as he pushed her toward stage left. Celes backed up the three steps that she had just taken. Ralse nodded.

“Good. Now I spin around you,” he said as he twirled her on the beat of the triplet, “and I spin you around me.”

He passed close to her, keeping their fingertips touching. Grins erupted on their faces as they successfully completed the elementary dance move.

The stage manager didn’t look impressed. “Look,” he said as he took the actor aside, “our patrons are paying to see The Dream Oath. Some of them probably know the opera by heart. The waltz is a big part of the show. We can’t go changing even more things! We might not get those patrons back!”

“This young lady has never danced before. We have to make it easy for her or else we’ll all look terrible.”

Ralse knew which buttons to push. The stage manager looked uneasy.

“Amateurish, even,” Ralse continued. “It’ll reflect poorly on all of us, but especially on you.”

The stage manager shook his head and glared at the actor, who was now smiling as though nothing was amiss. “Fine,” the older man said, keeping his voice low. “We’ll change the waltz. But if I hear so much as a peep of a complaint from anyone, I’ll get the Chief to dock your pay and make you the Chancellor’s understudy!”

“Thank you,” Ralse sing-songed as he returned to Celes and the stage manager left in search of something to drink.

The former general had the hint of a smile on her face. “I appreciate you helping me.”

“It may not look like it, but in this troupe we watch out for each other.” Ralse looked around as he led Celes in their modified waltz and then broke out in a grin. “Except for Draco. He can fend for himself.”

This post has been edited by MeaPortia on 12th January 2009 03:53

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174088
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Posted: 21st December 2008 15:10

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Part Two - Apologies for the double post. unsure.gif

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The Chief had declared emergency rehearsals due to major deviations from the original blocking, and the cast was polishing the newly-modified opera. Used to difficult steps and technical maneuvers, the dancers except for Celes and Ralse were bogging down in the simplicity of the dance.

“Maestro,” the stage master called to the orchestra pit, “if you please, let’s work on the wedding waltz in Act II again.”

“We’ll start at the triplets.”

“Perfect.” The stage manager and the Chief watched as the dancers took their places. “Remember the new steps, everyone, and keep the focus on Maria and Ralse.”

The orchestra began playing the waltz, and for a moment everything looked like it would go smoothly. Everyone moved on the beat, the music was at the perfect tempo, and for one brief moment it actually looked good if somewhat minimalistic.

And then there came the stage manager’s nasal voice. “One-two-three, one-two-three, Ma-ri-aa, you’reonthewrongside!”

The other dancers stopped and groaned in disgust as the Chief clapped his hands loudly. “Everyone, take a ten minute break. Maria, come here, dear.”

Celes sighed and walked over to where the Chief was massaging his temples. Being called by another woman’s name was really starting to grate, as was the pervasive feeling of failure. For just a moment, she longed for the feeling of competency that she’d felt as a general before everything went to hell. Before Maranda, and before she got wind of Kefka’s plan to poison Doma.

“You’re doing better,” the Chief said, surprising her. “Lots better, in fact. You’ve learned a lot in the past two days. No matter what Draco says, the aria is coming along nicely.”

“Thanks.”

“So here’s my plan, which was suggested by our good friend Ralse.” The Chief shot a glare at Ralse, who in return gave him a grin and returned to chatting up the dark haired girl playing first clarinet. The Chief turned back to Celes and sighed. “I’ve never had to do this, but I’m going to give you free reign.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“We’re going to adapt to you. If you make a mistake, we’ll just follow your lead.” He looked up at her, the tired look in his eyes making him look older than he actually was. “So please, for the love of everything holy, don’t make us look bad.”

“And you’re doing this because…”

“Maria and I consider this a personal favor.” The Chief looked over his shoulder and then back to Celes. “This Setzer guy has been a thorn in our side for months. He’s infatuated with poor Maria, made her a nervous wreck. It’s made all of us nervous wrecks.” The man pulled a flask out of his pocket and drained it in three long pulls. “Plus, after we talked about it, your friends over there offered to compensate us in case this opera bombs.”

Celes looked over to where the Chief had jerked his thumb. Locke, Edgar, and Sabin tried to look as innocent as possible. Locke and Sabin gave cheery waves and Edgar winked. The beginnings of a smile began to play on Celes’ face. “All right. I won’t let you down.”

“Good. Do you think you can do this?”

“I have no doubt.”

The Chief put a hand to his forehead and sighed. “At the very least, it’ll all be over tomorrow night.”



After a grueling practice, Celes retired to her dressing room. She had no idea that being an “opera floozy” was such hard work. Her feet hurt, her mouth was dry, her throat was sore, and she was wearing another woman’s too-tight stays.

She opened the door silently to see her three companions lounging. Sabin had fallen asleep on the red velvet divan, accompanied by gentle snores. Edgar was reading the score, his right hand making miniature conductor movements as he followed the notes. And Locke was looking at the spare costumes in Maria’s trunk, pausing to examine an outfit or hold a piece of costume jewelry up to the light.

“You’d think,” Locke said absentmindedly, “that they could afford some of the real thing once in a while.”

“Indeed,” Edgar concurred, busy reading the harpist’s solo.

“It seems like with all the problems in the world, people would be heading here in droves for a little escapist fun.”

The Dream Oath is hardly escapist fun. Sure it’s got some funny parts here and there, but it’s mostly about war and death.”

Locke stopped rummaging through Maria’s costumes. “Then why don’t they put something on that doesn’t have to do with war and death?”

“It’s the opera, Locke. They all have to do with war and death.”

“If they want to stop losing business to the burlesque theaters, they’d better put something funny on. This place is gonna be dead tomorrow night.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Celes cleared her throat and watched with amusement as she startled Locke and Edgar. “I hate to interrupt,” she told them as they scrambled to their feet, “but I’m going to change clothes.”

“I think you look ethereal, Miss Celes,” Edgar said with his trademark ladykiller smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes.

Locke looked flabbergasted for a moment and then remembered to speak. “Oh, yeah, you look fine as you are, Celes. Great, even. Pretty. Pretty great, that is.” The treasure hunter turned bright red and started smoothing out his hair.

Edgar saw that Celes wasn’t moving and that she just stood there, smiling. He knew when to give up.

“Locke, help me get Sabin up. We should give the lady some privacy.”

“Thank you,” Celes said as the two men began waking the monk. They led the still-groggy Sabin out and the former general shut the door after them.
She would have, actually, had Locke not stuck his foot between the door and the frame. “You really do look nice,” he told her as she tried to shut the door.

“I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Okay, we’ll be-”

The door shut and Locke found himself face-to-face with the dark wainscoting of the opera doors. “We’ll be out here,” he finished. “Just in case you need us.”



The day of the opera arrived. Once again the small Returner band had gathered in the dressing room to plan.

“The Chief said that Setzer will probably try his stunt at the climax of the story. When is that?”

Edgar thought for a moment and then thumbed through the score to double-check his guess. “Probably at the duel. After Draco and the West’s survivors raid Maria’s castle, Draco and Ralse challenge each other to a duel for Maria’s hand.”

“You’ve seen this before?” Celes asked.

“About four times. It’s a staple of any opera troupe’s repertoire, and we’ve had a few come through Figaro.”

“So,” Locke said, “how are we going to do this? How is this ‘Wandering Whoever’ going to grab Celes?”

Edgar shut the score and looked out at the stage from the dressing room’s open door. “Setzer has an airship, so that means that he can either come in here on foot or…” He stopped, looked up at the ceiling, and shrugged. “Or he could cut a hole in the roof.”

Celes gave the king a disbelieving stare. “A hole in the roof.”

“If this guy’s half as flashy as the Chief says, he won’t be happy to just jump up on the stage and pull you away.”

“Can someone even cut through the roof?”

“He could do it, if he had the proper tools. It doesn’t need to be a big hole to get two people through. If he’s my size, all he’ll need is two and a half feet or so of width.”

Locke looked up at the roof. It was a good twenty-five feet from the catwalk to the stage, and probably forty from the roof to the stage. “If he is going to do something like that, he’s going to need-”

The treasure hunter turned back to his friends and grinned. “I think I know how we can get aboard the airship after he nabs you, Celes.”

“How’s that?”

“If he’s going to interrupt the opera by kidnapping you, he’s going to want to do it in a way where he can make a quick getaway. Edgar’s right - he’s going to have to come through the roof. I don’t know anything about airships – do you, Edgar?”

“A little. I’ve looked at blueprints for some. Why?”

“He’s going to have to hold Celes somehow, right? And if she was the real Maria, she’d be kicking and screaming. So,” Locke said as he moved over to Celes, “he can’t hand-over-hand his way back up to the ship.” The treasure hunter pantomimed wrapping his arm around Celes’ waist and trying to climb up a rope or ladder. “He’s going to need a rope and a winch or a pulley of some kind. That’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Edgar said, nodding. “In fact, we sell the new hydraulic drum winches in South Figaro. It also means that while he’s here, there has to be someone at the helm. While he’s distracted with telling them where to go, we can sneak aboard if Miss Celes drops a rope back down for us. We can climb up while he takes off or ascends or what-have-you.”

In the corner, Sabin crossed his arms. “Can we all make it up? I mean, there’s got to be at least 500 pounds between the three of us.”

“If he’s using one of our industrial-grade winches, he can hold up to three times our weight,” Edgar said confidently. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

An assistant stage manager poked his head into the dressing room from the stage doorway. “Ah, Maria? You’re needed for the dress rehearsal in ten minutes.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right out.”

Locke looked up at Celes and noticed that he was still pantomiming holding her around the waist. He stood up and backpedaled, blushing all the way. “If you need something, just let us know.”

“Thank you, Locke.”

The three men exited the dressing room and found the Chief pacing outside.

“Do you think this is going to work?” the worried opera manager asked.

“Seems like it,” Locke said, his blush fading. “I think we’ve got the logistics figured out.”

“Good, good.”

The impresario continued to pace. Locke and Edgar took seats on a black velvet divan similar to the kind in Celes’ dressing room. Sabin looked around and finally approached the Chief.

“Ah, do you have a concession stand or something around here?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, downstairs and hidden off to the right. I don’t know if they’re open, but help yourself if they aren’t.”

Sabin trotted downstairs, starving. People ate such small portions in Jidoor, and he’d give anything for some roasted walnuts.

Edgar watched his brother run off in search of food – some things never changed – and looked back at Locke. “I guess we’re just waiting until showtime, then.”

“Looks like it.”

“I wonder if Miss Celes needs any help getting dressed.”

Locke gave Edgar a withering glare and the Chief was too consumed in his own worry to hear much of anything going on around him.

The king shrugged. “What? I’m just trying to be helpful.”

This post has been edited by MeaPortia on 21st December 2008 15:13

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174089
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Posted: 21st December 2008 18:11

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Part Three - Kinda short.

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Celes’ legs actually shook for the first time in her life as she climbed the stairs that led to her “castle’s” balcony. She looked out into the audience and realized with a great deal of relief that she couldn’t actually see anyone. There were dark bodies occupying the seats, but without a contrasting light they looked more like mannequins than actual people. She wondered where Locke and the others were sitting. It was probably for the best if she didn’t know where. The last thing she needed was to look up and see one of her friends smiling at her.

So far the production had been a disaster, although it wasn’t an unmitigated disaster yet. The first problem had been when several of the chocobos tried to trample Draco at the beginning of the first act. Half of the audience had chuckled, thinking that it was about time someone inserted a little slapstick into this hackneyed old opera. The other half, Jidooran purists with season tickets, had sniffed and muttered about tampering with the classics.

Then, during Ralse’s villainous motive aria, a part of the set fell down and nearly knocked him in the head. His undignified dive for cover had gotten the audience going for a few moments. Ralse had jumped up, readjusted his wig, and bellowed a few lines about the cowardly Westerners and their incompetent assassins. Sporadic applause and cheers came from the audience, since there seemed to be a small contingent tonight that wanted the villain to win. After dealing with both actors, Celes couldn’t blame them.

After a prop weapon had dramatically misfired after the big battle scene, the Chief had looked about ready to have an apoplectic fit. Celes had idly wondered if the opera was haunted.

Right before she’d headed to her dressing room to look over the score again, Celes had overheard the stage manager telling Draco that the chocobos had been spooked by something and that he’d found wood shavings stuck in their feathers. Locke and Edgar were right – Setzer was going to be just as dramatic as Draco and come down from the roof. At least the patrons were going to get their money’s worth in entertainment.

And then there was Locke. He’d come back to check on her – better him than Edgar, she figured, since she wanted to stay in her costume – and had gotten red and asked her if she was always this lovely. She finally had him alone and could ask him the question that had bothered her since he rescued her in South Figaro: why? Why had he saved her?

He’d stumbled over his words and said something about how he didn’t want anyone to die by his own inactivity again – still thinking about Rachel in Kohlingen. Before she knew it, before she could let him know that she was most definitely not the same as the girl who had died, the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“Am I her substitute?”

Locke had hemmed and hawed, complementing her on her hair and how flattering the dress was. Celes could guess that his answer was probably ‘yes, but don’t let me know that you know.’ For just a fraction of a moment, Celes wished that it had been Sabin to check on her if one of them had insisted on coming. She knew that at least he wouldn’t try to talk her out of her outfit or push the image of a dead former lover onto her.

And then, cutting through her thoughts, she heard the arpeggio that signaled the beginning of her aria. And that brought her back to the embarrassing fact that she had her first-ever case of knock-knees. And, oddly, it wasn’t from the fact that she was going to be kidnapped. It was from the fact that she was going to have to sing in public. After a little voice training in the past several days, she was informed that she could now sing like Maria, if Maria had a chest cold and overworked vocal cords. With all the problems that the opera had faced so far, the diva’s unusual pitch was going to be the least of the cast’s worries.

It was time. Celes took a deep breath from her center of mass and spread out her arms. Her angel-sleeved silk dress caught the gaslamps’ light and shimmered.

“Oh my hero, so far away now, will I ever see your smile?”

Was that her? It certainly didn’t sound like anything she’d ever warbled before. It was actually…beautiful. The high ringing tones of her voice gave her confidence, and she walked on the prop castle’s battlements.

“Love goes away, like night into day. It’s just a fading dream.”

Love. Celes had never been in love. In Vector, there had been nothing and no one to love. Gestahl was her Emperor, Kefka was insane, Leo was nearly twice her age, and Cid was like a father or grandfather. Every other man she had ever met, aside from the Returners or foreign dignitaries, was her subordinate. Celes had watched the things that she fought for – law, order, stability, prosperity – evaporate into puffs of smoke under the increasing prominence of Magitek.

“I’m the darkness, you’re the stars. Our love is brighter than the sun.”

She idly wondered as she continued walking whether or not her friends had ever been in love. Sabin was a monk and therefore celibate. Edgar…was another matter altogether. There had to be important women in their pasts. And then she thought back to the dressing room, when Locke had spoken about his dead girlfriend Rachel. He had loved before. He had felt what the lyrics proclaimed.

Celes decided that, just for this song, she would sing as if she really were separated from someone that she loved and dearly wanted back. She would sing it as if a part of her were missing.

“For eternity, for me there can be, only you, my chosen one…”

She would sing it as if she knew what it was talking about.



Locke watched Celes from the doorway of the dressing room and smiled. He watched her pretend to dance with an invisible Draco and then pick up a nearby bouquet of flowers. Something in her expression was sad, beautiful, wistful, and vulnerable all at the same time. It was as though she really believed in the lyrics that she sang.

“Well done, Celes,” he whispered. “Well done.”

Hesitantly, he turned to go back to Edgar and Sabin. They needed to group someplace inconspicuous where they could then sneak onto Setzer’s airship. Assuming, of course, that the gambler actually showed. Locke had his doubts.

The dressing room was a mess of costumes, makeup, roses, and notes; it was amazing that he caught sight of the letter on the floor. Curious, he picked it up. It was addressed to the Chief and was coated in drying slime. He recognized the slime from Edgar and Sabin’s description of an encounter on the Lete River before he even read the signature.

“Fantastic,” he muttered as he read it. “As if we need more going on right now!”

That damned octopus Ultros just had to pick tonight to make trouble.


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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174096
Top
Posted: 21st December 2008 19:33

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Part Four - This would probably look better if I knew how to tab. sleep.gif
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Locke ran up the stairs and to the balcony that held the others. Since they hadn’t actually paid for tickets, and the show had been sold out contrary to Locke’s expectations, they were lucky to get these far away balcony seats. All Locke knew was that they felt millions of miles away from the dressing room. The other Returners sat in the front row of the balcony with the poorer folk who had managed to scrape up enough cash to take their significant other on a date to the opera.

“Hey brother,” Locke heard Sabin whisper to Edgar, “why’s everyone singing all the time?”

Locke hurried past them and gave the letter to the Chief. “Trouble,” he said as the Chief read the letter and looked ready to pass out.

“Good heavens,” the man moaned. “You have to do something! This is horrific!”

“What is it?” Edgar asked. “What’s wrong now?”

A sudden triplet from the orchestra caused them to jump and look back at the stage. The waltz was over, the survivors of the West were recapturing Maria’s castle, and the expression of relief on Celes’ face couldn’t all be part of her Maria act. The climax of the opera was two or three scenes away.

The Chief scanned the scene and pointed out at the catwalk, which was visible in silhouette from the balcony. “That thing’s going to use that?!”

Locke followed where the man’s finger pointed and saw a writhing form…pushing…a spare counterbalance?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sabin said. “Is that the octopus from the river? Didn’t we kill it?”

“Apparently not,” Edgar said, now serious. “But it will kill Celes if we don’t hurry!”

The Chief nodded and pointed toward the right of the balcony. “Quickly! The remote locks to the catwalk are behind the door to the farthest right! You don’t have much time!”

Locke, Edgar, and Sabin sprang up and fairly ran through the aisle toward the door. Locke, first of the three, reached the balcony’s wing and threw open the red velvet drapes to reveal even more people seated and intently watching the show.

“Door, door,” he muttered, “where’s the door?”

“There!” exclaimed Sabin, prompting people to send glares and shushes toward the Returners.

Locke barreled through a row of seated patrons, leaving outraged gasps and dirty looks in his wake. “Scuse me, sorry about that, coming through, watch your toes, look out ma’am, pardon me!”

Edgar and Sabin followed closely after, offering somewhat more sincere apologies for the disturbance. They barged through the door and found a stagehand watching the opera below with a bored expression. He perked up when he saw the three newcomers.

“Hey, this is off-limits! If you’re looking for the gentlemen’s room-”

“Chief’s orders!” Locke exclaimed. “We need access to the catwalk!”

“Why?”

“Look!” Locke pointed out at the catwalks and toward Ultros.

The kid looked horrified. “Is that…an octopus? Pushing a counterweight? How is it doing that? For that matter, how did it get there?” He looked toward the three Returners with the same horrified expression. “An octopus in The Dream Oath. Ye gods, now I’ve seen everything…”

Locke grabbed the kid’s shoulder. “The catwalk!”

The stagehand shook himself out of his daze. “Right. Chief’s orders, huh? Third switch on the right will get you over there. You’ll have to pull it, it’s too heavy for me.”

Sabin laughed and pulled down on the switch. “Got any jars you want me to open while we’re here?”

Locke barreled back out the door and again into the angry patrons, the Figaro brothers behind him. They stepped over and around a different row of patrons on their way out, including one older woman who must have recognized one of them by the odd look she gave them as they hustled past. The treasure hunter tossed back the velvet curtains, one of which caught Edgar in the face and showered him in dust, and ran across the balcony’s main aisle back to the Chief.

A few ushers moved to intercept the three running men, but the Chief motioned the ushers off. He said nothing but pointed frantically at the left balcony.

“Up there!” Locke told Edgar and Sabin. “There’s the door to the catwalk!”

They rushed up the side aisle and hurtled into another balcony wing full of paying customers. Instead of trying to pick his way through an aisle crowded with feet and bags, Locke ran between the first row and the balcony railing. As they received curious stares, Locke threw the door open and stared out at the maze of wooden planks and rope.

Images of the rope bridge where Rachel fell superimposed themselves over the reality of the catwalk. The dim light was almost the same as in that cave, and he imagined that he could see Rachel standing there smiling at him. Locke hesitated for just a second and then felt Edgar and Sabin both run into him, knocking him at least ten feet forward and to the floor of the catwalk. The boards and rope swung themselves from the momentum.

“Thanks,” Locke said as he dusted himself off. “I’m going to be spitting sawdust for a week.”

Edgar said nothing in response but stared at something above and past Locke’s head. When Locke looked at him with a curious look, Edgar pointed upward. “We were right.”

There in the roof of the opera house was a hole in the roof no bigger than two and a half feet wide.

Locke adjusted his bandana. “He’s actually showing up.”

“That,” Sabin said as he slid his iron claw onto his right hand, “or this place really needs renovations.”

“Told you they lost too much money to the burlesque theaters,” Locke said. He unsheathed his knife and squinted toward the middle of the stage. “Is that Ultros there?”

“Is it an ugly purple octopus with bad teeth?” Edgar asked as he loaded his auto-crossbow. Then, to himself, he muttered, “Never thought I’d say that.”

“Looks like it.”

“That’s Ultros then.”

The three of them moved forward on the rickety catwalk, trying to keep their footing as their own movements caused the ropes to swing the boards holding them up. Every once and again, they’d step on a rat or two, making the rodent squeal and fall down to the stage.

One rat fell down below and onto an extra’s cape. The poor man screamed and flailed as the panicked rat scrambled into his shirt and started running laps. The extra ran off-stage, shedding his costume all the while, as Ralse and Draco hurled insults at each other, some not entirely in-character.

“I take it back,” Locke said as he gingerly made a left toward center stage. “This place might be more interesting if they keep making shows like this.”

Edgar chuckled. “Barbarian,” he said. “But I have to admit, this is the liveliest opera I’ve seen in quite some time.”

“You actually go to stuff like this for fun?” Sabin asked as he punted a rat across the catwalk. As his brother nodded, Sabin grinned. “That’s right, you probably take all your fancy dates here.”

“I happen to enjoy the arts for the arts’ sake. I’ll have you know that there are some things in life more important than taking a beautiful woman out for an evening.”

Locke and Sabin looked back at Edgar with disbelieving expressions.

“I haven’t found them yet,” Edgar admitted as they pressed onward, “but I’m sure they’re out there.”

At last they evaded the rats in the rafters and reached where Ultros was struggling against the counterweight. The octopus stopped suddenly and looked up at them.

“Long time no see,” he said in his characteristic burbling voice. “Did you miss me? Huh? Huh?”

“Shut up already,” Locke said as he pointed his knife at Ultros. “What do you think you’re doing anyway?”

“Causing trouble, of course,” Ultros said as he shot an arm out around Locke’s ankle. The treasure hunter fell to the slippery catwalk and looked completely disgusted as his back was coated in slime from the octopus.

“Could have done without that,” Locke muttered as he took a slice at the arm holding him. Ultros gave a yelp of pain and hurled himself at the treasure hunter, knocking the catwalk off-balance. The octopus was the first to slide off, followed by Locke. Edgar and Sabin tried to pull Locke back up to the catwalk without success; the momentum and weight of the younger man and the octopus was enough to pull all four of them off of the catwalk and send them down to the stage below.

This post has been edited by MeaPortia on 31st January 2009 13:38

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174099
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Posted: 22nd December 2008 00:33

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Part Five - And now we know why Locke isn't a singer
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Draco and Ralse had finished yelling insults at each other and had drawn swords for the upcoming duel scene. In the middle of Draco’s dramatic monologue, a commotion from the ceiling drew the cast’s attention as well as that of the majority of the audience.

Celes, who was standing near Draco, had an idea as to what was going on. Trouble, with her friends – allies, rather – in the middle.

Next to her, Draco raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t they with you?” he asked her, frowning. “You know, you’re judged by the company you keep-”

Before the actor could continue, three Returners and an octopus fell twenty-five feet onto the stage. Draco, kind soul that he was, broke the men’s fall while Ralse provided a soft landing spot for Ultros. Locke and Edgar slid downstage as Sabin shook his head, dazed.

The audience sat in stunned silence as they took in the scene before them and then began to murmur in disbelief. The Chief ran out on stage, completely oblivious to the danger around him.

“This is horrible!” the Chief exclaimed, his words slurring together ever so slightly. “If the hero and the villain are flattened, who’ll win the girl? How will the show go on?”

Celes was not impressed with the concept of being “won." She watched as the octopus – some third party with an axe to grind against the Returners, obviously – drew itself up from its landing spot and looked in discomfort as to where it had landed. Slowly, her three allies began to rise up and realize in horror that they had fallen onto the stage.

Locke looked around the stage, looked back at Celes, and then smiled. “Neither Ralse nor Draco will win the heart of Celes- I mean, Maria!” he sang, his pitch wavering. “It is I, Locke Cole, the world’s premier adventurer, who shall take her as my wife!”

A few in the audience chuckled at Locke’s attempted vibrato. Celes, the Chief, and the remaining cast unanimously wished that they were invisible. Over in the corner, Sabin snorted out loud at the treasure hunter’s atrocious singing and burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as Locke continued to chew the scenery into nonexistence. Edgar too had to laugh at the fiasco the opera had become.

Not one to be outdone, Ultros drew himself up to his full height and gave Locke the most skewering gaze he could muster. “Silence, you knave! You are in the presence of octopus royalty!” He moved to the center of the stage and adopted a battle stance. “A lowborn thief like you could never defeat me! I challenge you and your worthless friends to a duel!”

Almost immediately, Locke kicked his knife up from the stage where it had fallen and caught it in midair. The audience applauded as he and Ultros began to circle each other, Sabin and Edgar joining Locke. The treasure hunter twirled the knife to raucous applause, looking less and less like the “world’s premier adventurer” and more and more like a gang member from Zozo.

“We accept your challenge,” Locke told Ultros. “Now, have at you!”

Sabin raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Locke took a swipe at Ultros’s tentacle and shrugged. “Maybe I always wanted to play a hero.”

Ultros burbled his laugh again and shot ink at Locke, missing the treasure hunter and hitting Draco squarely in the face. “Is that so? Then consider this your final act, you gutter-crawling cur!”

The Chief, always one to seize on an opportunity, motioned toward the maestro. “Let’s make the most of this! Music!”

Celes didn’t know if she was amused or appalled.

Near her, Ralse staggered to his feet and wheezed air back into his lungs. “You have some…interesting friends.”

Celes watched as Locke and Ultros continued to tear up the scenery, literally and figuratively. “That I do.”

This post has been edited by MeaPortia on 17th January 2009 12:18

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174106
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Posted: 22nd December 2008 00:36

*
Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Part Six - Enter the Gambler (and The Finale!)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Locke’s boots slipped around on the newly-slick stage, courtesy of whatever slime Ultros had brought with him. He put his knife back into its leather holder as the octopus fled, soundly beaten for the second time. Sporadic cheers and applause broke out and he slid back to where Celes was standing.

“Nicely done,” he told her as she broke out in a smile. He took her hand suddenly and raised it to his lips as if to kiss it.

“Hold it!”

Everyone on stage looked up for the source of the shout, and a stagehand turned a carbon arc spotlight up to the rafters. Descending dangerously fast from the hole in the roof was a man holding onto a rope, one foot balanced in the nape of a blunted industrial hook. He tossed a merry salute to the audience, prompting cheers as they thought that it was all part of the show.

“It was a superb show, a little out of the ordinary, but I’ll be taking Maria now. I’m a man of my word, Chief!”

Celes looked up at the man who had to be Setzer Gabbiani, the Wandering Gambler. His face, heavily scarred and almost bloodlessly pale, sported the most self-satisfied smirk that she’d ever seen. His silver hair and black coat billowed around him as he reached the stage –

– And before she knew it, she was spinning in his arms, gasping in surprise, growing dizzier and dizzier. Someone pulled her in close and then she felt herself ascending. Her feet found stable ground on Setzer’s feet and she had no choice but to hold tightly to him.

“Don’t worry, Maria my dear,” he said as he looked up. They passed through the hole in the roof and the airship, silhouetted by the moon, came into view. “We’ll be back on something solid shortly.”

“Where are you taking me?” Celes managed to gasp out, no longer playing the part of Maria. She wished they would stop ascending so quickly – she’d never been much for heights.

“Up, right now,” Setzer said, his voice still full of cheerful bravado. “After that, you’ll just have to see.”

A wave of vertigo rushed over Celes as she watched the opera house shrink ever smaller and smaller. She buried her face in something and found – much to her dismay – that she had chosen Setzer’s coat. He was surprisingly warm and had obviously used some kind of musky cologne before pulling his stunt.

“And here we are,” he said a few moments later as they came to a bone-jarring halt. “Knew that trip to South Figaro would be worth it,” the gambler said as Celes looked up. The smirk had changed to a waggish smile of delight stamped all over his heart-shaped face. He gave her a little nudge toward the lip of the deck. “Step up,” he told her. “And welcome aboard the Blackjack!”

A crewman took her hand and helped her up before joining a small group of his fellows. Setzer leapt from the hook and landed on the deck next to Celes. As soon as he gained his balance, he took her arm in his and led her over to where the crewmembers had assembled.

“Boys,” he said grandly, “meet Maria. She’ll be staying with us a while. Maria, meet my crew. If you want anything, just let one of them know.”

The crewmembers nodded or smiled politely, and then Celes felt herself being whisked off again. “I’d give you the grand tour right now,” Setzer told her as they passed through a private casino, “but we do have a schedule to keep and your admirers to elude. I’ll show you around in a little while.”

“Wait,” Celes said, stumbling over her feet in trying to keep up with the gambler, “are you insane?”

“Only with adoration for you, my dear,” Setzer said affably as he opened the door to a small lounge. “You’ll have my undivided attention in a bit. In the meantime, there’s a nice view there in case you want to say goodbye to Jidoor.”

He herded her into the room and shut the door behind him, locking her in. Celes gave a few token pounds on it for good measure, and then a smile spread across her face. Everything had gone according to plan so far.

She did decide to take a look at the view. Jidoor was actually quite pretty at night, Celes decided as she dropped a rope Locke had given her down the viewport.



The actors, crew, and audience watched as another rope dropped down from the hole in the roof. The smallest of the three non-actors, the one who had declared himself “Locke Cole, the world’s premier adventurer,” was the first to latch onto it.

“There’s the signal,” he called to his companions as he began to climb it. “Let’s go commandeer an airship!”

The biggest man jumped on the rope after removing iron weapons from his hands and the last man – who bore a startling resemblance to the King of Figaro – followed soon after. They waved goodbye to everyone else as they ascended through the hole in the roof and vanished from sight.

There was absolute dead silence all throughout the opera house for several seemingly-unending heartbeats.

Suddenly, all as one, the audience rose up and cheered.

The actors on stage looked from one to another for guidance. After a few surreal moments, Draco took the first bow, followed shortly by Ralse. The cast formed a line and took their bows, the Chief joining in after a moment since he was still on stage. They slipped and slid around in the goo left by Ultros, some of the extras losing their balance in the process of exiting.

The Chief took a final bow and gestured toward the orchestra, which also received raucous cheers and applause. “Part II will be along shortly,” the Chief called over the applause, “in which you’ll learn the fates of Maria, Locke, Setzer, Draco, Ralse, and the others. Be sure to buy your advance tickets at the box office!”



The red velvet curtain swung closed across the stage and the opera impresario promptly fainted.

This post has been edited by MeaPortia on 22nd December 2008 03:02

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174108
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Posted: 22nd December 2008 01:29

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Posts: 2,077

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Celebrated the CoN 20th Anniversary at the forums. Member of more than ten years. Vital involvement in the Final Fantasy IX section of CoN. Voted for all the fanart in the CoNvent Calendar 2015. 
Voted for all the fanart in the CoNvent Calendar 2014. User has rated 300 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Vital involvement in the Final Fantasy VI section of CoN. User has rated 150 fanarts in the CoN galleries. 
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Nice stuffs. A fun little fic. It read pretty well, and nothing leaped out at me as being grammatically incorrect.

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Currently Playing : Final Fantasy V
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Post #174112
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Posted: 22nd December 2008 01:29

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Black Waltz
Posts: 903

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Member of more than ten years. User has rated 25 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Major involvement in the Final Fantasy V section of CoN. Second place in CoNCAA, 2011. 
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I really, really like your work. I'm not an expert at picking out flaws, but it read nicely, the characters were well portrayed, and it stayed true to the game. Not that i've played it recently, but still.
Very good quality writing. I like it. happy.gif
Post #174113
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Posted: 23rd December 2008 06:17

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Chocobo Knight
Posts: 112

Joined: 12/1/2008

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That was amazing! You used all the memorable events from the game, and you added your own touches to it. This has to be one of my favorite fan-fics (not that I've read many others, but this was just brilliant!)

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"My name is Atma...I am a power both ancient and unrivaled... I do not bleed, for I am but strength given form...Feeble creatures of flesh...Your time is nigh!"
Post #174152
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Posted: 8th January 2009 15:11

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Holy Swordsman
Posts: 2,034

Joined: 29/1/2004

Awards:
Member of more than ten years. Participated at the forums for the CoN's 15th birthday! User has rated 25 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Member of more than five years. 
Second place in the 2004 Gogo Fanfiction contest. Third place in the 2009 Quiz contest. 
Very excellent- lighthearted, well written, and named after a great album. (All it's missing is Bohemian Rhapsody wink.gif )

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If you've been mod-o-fied,
It's an illusion, and you're in-between.
Don't you be tarot-fied,
It's just alot of nothing, so what can it mean?
~Frank Zappa

Sins exist only for people who are on the Way or approaching the Way
Post #174612
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Posted: 17th January 2009 12:53

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Thanks guys!

I was a little worried about the characterization at first. But overall, I really like the way it came out. And anything that gives me an excuse to talk about Setzer ( wub.gif ) and listen to the opera scene's music over and over again is fine by me!

And it's kind of funny that while I was editing, I actually did have "Killer Queen" and "Flash's Theme" come up together on the shuffle. happy.gif

I really appreciate the feedback!

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #174841
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Posted: 13th February 2009 20:12

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Chocobo Knight
Posts: 143

Joined: 13/5/2008

Awards:
Member of more than ten years. Member of more than five years. Second place in the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
I just got done reading this and I must say it's quite a good fic. I really liked the characterization, especially Locke's. Edgar's use of the word barbarian was a nice, subtle way to remind of us of his more royal origins/manner, and the conversation about operas having war and death is the same.

What really got to me about this fic was that it was FUNNY. That's why I enjoyed it the most, because it made me chuckle. The characters and interactions were perfect, and they were amusing, as well. You did a very good job writing, and I'm impressed with how well the words flow and how there aren't any grammar mistakes. That's a rare find in fanfiction these days!

This post has been edited by Lockpick on 13th February 2009 20:13

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The opera was only performed in English ONCE. T_T

Hey, FF artists! You might want to check this challenge out!

WEBSITE <3
Post #175409
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Posted: 19th February 2009 05:15

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Onion Knight
Posts: 48

Joined: 1/11/2008

Awards:
Member of more than five years. Winner of the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
Thanks!

I'm kind of an obsessive editor. I go back and edit each character's lines a few hours or days or whatever after I write it to see if it still sounds in character. After characterization, I go back and look at grammar and mechanics.

When it comes to grammar/spelling/usage, I'm really fussy. I think it's because I learned an excessively proper version of English in my Latin classes (yeah.)

I really like to write comedies, and the opera scene is always one of my favorites. It's such a fish out of water story for Celes mostly, and then for everyone else when they fall on stage. Then when Setzer makes his entrance and disrupts the whole thing... I love that part of the game. biggrin.gif

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I figured I had paid my debt to society by paying my overdue fines at the McLennan County Library.

"Oh crap!"
- Bartz

"Huh? Why's everyone singing?"
- Sabin
Post #175597
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Posted: 19th February 2009 05:22

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Chocobo Knight
Posts: 143

Joined: 13/5/2008

Awards:
Member of more than ten years. Member of more than five years. Second place in the 2008 Fanfiction contest. 
I'm really nitpicky about grammar, too. One of the things I really enjoy about your writing (this and Mirrors to Windows) is that it is always grammatically correct. I can't tell you how many train wrecks I've seen on on places like FFN that get a ton of reviews just because the reader doesn't know grammar, either! To me, it's essential. No matter how inventive the fanfic is, I will simply stop reading if I notice huge grammar flaws and the like. It's really, really annoying. So I'm glad your work is mistake-free!

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The opera was only performed in English ONCE. T_T

Hey, FF artists! You might want to check this challenge out!

WEBSITE <3
Post #175598
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Posted: 19th February 2009 16:41

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Black Mage
Posts: 206

Joined: 14/2/2009

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Read it, loved it, characters were spot on. Can’t comment on grammar, I’m not qualified for that. But, damn you’re brave, I’m always scared to go back and read what I wrote because I know I’m going to end erasing the whole thing.

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"Love, and do what you will" Saint Augustine
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