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VI: Before the Storm (working title)

Posted: 2nd May 2009 22:46

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Black Waltz
Posts: 970

Joined: 23/4/2004

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Voted for all the fanart in the CoNvent Calendar 2015. User has rated 150 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Member of more than ten years. User has rated 25 fanarts in the CoN galleries. 
Third place in the Final Fantasy Music CoNtest, 2010-2011 Member of more than five years. Second place in the 2007 Name that Tune contest. Second place in the 2009 Quiz contest. 
As some of you may - or may not - remember, exactly 5 years ago today I posted my first piece of fiction Afterstorm in this forum. Being the work largely of a prepubescent kid, the quality is naturally of a sub par variety, especially when compared to some of the others who have written works here. After what feels to me like another lifetime, I decided to truly revise the piece from the ground up, but to do that I decided I needed to try something else out.
That's what this is, a prequel to the aforementioned story, the idea for which was first given to me by Zechs. This is the first part of a huge project I hope will improve the overall quality of the works and I can hopefully immerse myself more fully into. If you did enjoy the original story, as feeble as it was, this is pretty different. One of the major problems I believe I encountered back then was an urge to be exciting, large, and funny in the works, in which I don't believe I truly accomplished any. This is a more stripped down work, more character-centric, as an attempt to get a firmer grip on the characters I am presenting. If I am successful, there will more to come, I can almost guarantee.
Below is only a sample of what I am working on, a teaser if you will, and as such may be subject to adjustment as I move farther along.
Also being that the work is unfinished, feel free to offer any criticism at all, as it was immeasurably helpful the first time around.

And it is no coincidence I am posting this on this specific day. I had hoped to do this a year ago, but was ill-prepared, and personally I find this much more fitting. Little present to myself.

So without *cough* further ado:

Chapter I: Awakening

They were gathered on the tier in front of Kefka, fourteen friends, ready to make one last stand. The site of him alone was enough to shed one of all courage and hope. But there was no lack of courage amongst his adversaries. Not in the slightest.
“I command the greatest power in the universe! You are all helpless before me!” he shrieked, a high-pitch voice seemingly capable of splintering a thousand minds in an instant. The very air around this corruption of humanity seemed to swirl and pulsate at his slightest whim, and an aura the shade of which could only be described with blood gathered around his frame. “I will destroy everything…I will create a monument to nonexistence!”
This last word cracked through the air like thunder, and the earth—if that’s what it could be called—shuttered. So might have they, at an earlier time, but not now.
“Life will go on; there will always be people, and dreams.”
“No, I will hunt them down! I will destroy it all! DESTROY!”
The vision blurred. It’s over, Kefka…Why was it so cold?
“Oh, but it hasn’t even begun!” And it shook.
All sight of the hellish being and the surroundings slowly dematerialized. “The end comes...”

As the world re-materialized, she came to the realization that she was lying down. She felt cold—though she was tucked snuggly under two layers of blanket—and empty. She felt as if some flame formerly burning magnificently inside her had suddenly and without warning extinguished itself. Perhaps that explained the chill. She could remember that dream…but it had actually happened, that she knew. She could remember…name? She suddenly felt an odd sensation of déjà vow. Terra. She sat up in the bed she had been placed in, but immediately felt a powerful, nauseating migraine. She could still feel the last words ringing in her head.
…Beyond chaos.
It rang so loudly she could not compel her mind to recall anything further, including what might have happened to extinguish the flame. One thing she did know: the longer she stayed in this bed the quicker the ringing was going to drive her insane. She lifted herself out of the bed with an effort, clinging to a blanket she had wrapped around herself, and walked to the door. It was opened barely, so she looked out and saw a young man sitting in a chair in the small corridor outside, sleeping soundly. Terra opened the door slowly and silently. The door squeaked about halfway through, waking him up in a startled jump.
When he looked over and saw Terra, his eyes widened and he jumped up. He made several attempts to say some greetings but couldn’t find his voice. Instead, he ran out of the small house. Terra followed slowly. Once outside, Terra instantly recognized her surroundings. This was the village of Mobliz, where she had spent close to a year, back before, caring for the remaining young inhabitants in what she believed to be the most rewarding part of her short life. That all came back clearly enough…
Immediately she was surrounded by small children, most of whom she could recognize as her orphans. She couldn’t help but smile. For the first time since awaking, she was not bothered by her ringing headache, and gave all her attention to the chest-high children gathered around her. It came back promptly enough though as some of the children caught her in embrace and she became disoriented, nearly losing her footing. She dropped her blanket as she tried the reclaim her balance, and felt a hand on her arm assist her.
“M-miss Terra?”
She looked and saw another young man, much younger than the first, staring at her with eyes wide as he smiled timidly and finally uttered, “Mum?”
At the moment she couldn’t recall the name, but the recognized the orphan’s face well enough underneath his shaggy brown hair and smiled back. He smiled broader and reached in to hug her. The smaller children blocked his way a bit, and he stumbled slightly, but Terra returned the embrace, in part to help her regain footing.
She allowed him to support her slightly as she walked onward. Realizing her throat was soar and voice weak from inactivity, she coughed a few times. She could see this troubled the boy beside her as he leaned forward to give assistance in whatever way he thought he could. Terra lifted a hand to stifle him before he could say a word and let out a couple more tiny coughs before saying hoarsely, “How long?”
He seemed a little startled, likely from the uncharacteristic low gruffness of her voice.
“How long was I in there?”
“Uh, a week, mum.”
She let out another hoarse cough, unintentionally this time. A week? Somehow, it seemed much, much longer…
The next question came to her before she could even think it through. “What’s the matter with me?”
“Um…I don’t rightly know, mum. You’ve just been sleepin’. Ever since they brought you back, you’ve been sleepin’ the entire time.” She couldn’t help but notice the vehement in his voice as he addressed them. She wondered where they were now…
Then the question that had been burning in her mind since she awoke: “So, it really happened then?”
He said nothing, almost as if thinking of the best way to put it, or perhaps being too afraid to. “Yes.”
Terra then said nothing. As they ambled slowly on, she looked around, taking in her surroundings. As more and more came back to her, the more seemed different. The small ravaged village around her seemed livelier now then when she had lived there. There seemed to be more of the scraggly children out playing, though she realized it wasn’t that there were more children, but that there were more of them playing. This came as the biggest surprise to her, for she could hardly remember a time ever that it seemed a time for playing.
The children would stop whatever they were doing at the moment and turn to stare at her. She could only imagine how she looked: sickly, fresh out of a seven-day nap, nauseated, having to be practically carried by someone young enough to call her “mum.” In her eighteen years, Terra had never felt so old…
She then spotted something she knew to be different. “What’s that?” She pointed feebly to a large structure resembling a barn upon a hill, barely outside the western edge of the village. It was much larger than anything else in Mobliz, but upon closer inspection she saw it was made simply of wooden planks and a shabby roof, obviously quickly made, likely just in the week she was asleep.
“Oh, that?” The boy followed her finger. “Your friends built that. It’s a meeting hall of some kind. I-I dunno, I’ve never been in it, but they keep coming and goi—”
“They’re here?” She stopped in her tracks, bringing him to an awkward stop. She was now looking directly at him, and he stared back again with eyes wide, not out of adoration but of stunned surprise, and perhaps a slight fear (she realized she was still speaking with a very scratchy voice).
“The, uh, your friends? The-the ones who brought you here?” He began making meaningless gestures with his free arm. “With the flying thing and the—yeah, they’ve been here the whole time. Well, almost the whole time.”
Terra looked back toward the cheap building. “Not just them neither,” he continued. “A little afterwards, more people came. Not many, but some, more than we’ve seen in a long while. They all gather around in there and then we feed them and show them to a bed. God knows we got plenty now.” He spoke this last part in a different tone, a little bitter, and somewhat to himself, she thought.
She could already feel herself levitating toward it even as he spoke. “Thank you,” she said without looking toward him, “I think I can take it from here.” She was sure the boy tried to reach out for her or say something, but she didn’t look back as she walked away from him and toward the clumsy structure. It was late afternoon, and it actually seemed to turn dusk as she neared it.

Chapter II: The Return

She had barely made it up the hill when she noticed the large figure silhouetted in the sun in front of her, hands akimbo. “Did we sleep well?” said the figure. It was possibly the largest she had ever known.
“Sabin,” she laughed lightly. He walked out of the sun to where she could see his stout face. Suddenly there were no questions, no gaps in her memory, and everything that had transpired, that they had weathered together, flooded right back. It had all really happened…
Sabin Figaro rushed down the hill and held her in an immense embrace that nearly crushed her. He released her and began hovering about her in the same manner that boy had.
“I wanted to see it,” Terra said, gesturing toward the meeting hall. Her voice was finally beginning to recover, and she was elated, as she already felt humiliated in her present state next to Sabin’s enormous, athletic frame.
“It’s nothing impressive,” he assured, “we whipped this up practically the day we got here.”
She looked down at her feet to avoid the bright sun, and nearly missed another large figure that appeared before her.
“Hey, brother!” Sabin called. “Look what I found!”
Terra looked up to see the impressive image of Edgar striding out of the building. Sabin and she made it to the top of the hill. Edgar greeted her by bowing elegantly. He and his brother were wearing ordinary leather garb, which seemed to blend them into the wooden walls of the structure behind them. Terra released herself from Sabin and wrapped her arms around Edgar’s shoulder whilst he was hunched low enough for her to reach them. He laughed in amusement and straightened up.
“We were alerted of your reveille,” Edgar said in his usual pontificated voice. His eyes though, in that finely featured face, showed great gentleness toward her as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh yeah,” Terra said groggily. “Who was that anyway? He’s too old to be one of mine.”
“Oh, he’s a recruit.”
“A what?”
He looked shortly toward Sabin, who looked back at him, then looked back at Terra, and grinned. “Come in here a second,” he gestured toward the large open doorway.
The inside of the barn was hardly more impressive than the outside; it truly was a barn. It was completely open space, with a large rectangular table in the center, surrounded with a random assortment of chairs clearly taken from different parts of the village, though some she recognized from the airship Falcon. At several parts of the barn were situated old oil lamps, though at the present adequate light was seeping in through the gaps in the wood, and the ground was naught but earth with hay thrown on to cover it (Terra could imagine Sabin spending a couple hours just digging up the grassy hill to found the rackety building, and smiled to herself).
Gathered standing around or sitting at the table was a good number of sturdy young men, perhaps a dozen or more. All were dressed in a traveler’s garb similar to Edgar and Sabin’s, and each with a short sword hanging at their sides on a belt. They paid no heed as Terra and the brothers entered.
Edgar cupped his hands over his mouth and called, “RECRUITS!” Immediately, every man in the building jumped up and looked toward the young king.
“Presenting,” Edgar called with his hands away from his mouth and gesturing towards Terra, “the newly revitalized Miss Terra Branford!”
The assembly applauded her courteously, at the same time conspicuously surprised at her rather disagreeable appearance. Edgar looked down at her and winked. In time, the men went back to their devises.
Terra turned to Edgar. “I’m still not entirely—”
“Some of them began to converge on this small town soon after we arrived,” he explained. “Seemed to follow us here. Spread the word, and soon others began to come. Surely you could imagine the spectacle we made just a few days ago.”
“Of course…” Feeling a bit groggy again.
Edgar began to walk around the barn, as grandiose as ever (as if he felt just as comfortable in a barn as in his own castle), and Terra and Sabin followed along.
“Course, we’ve sent out for some, too. Come to find, many have been convening on their own all this time, planned to give us support, or at least after we had finished. This just became a great opportunity—”
“I’m sorry, I still don't entirely understand. Who’s been convening?”
Edgar stopped and looked down at her quizzically, as if it had been mentioned several times already, and if it hadn’t it should’ve. “The Returners.”
“The Returners?”
“You haven’t forgotten them now, have you?”
Terra shot him a sour look.
Edgar grinned down at her again. “You know I’m kidding,” he said as he put his hand on her shoulder. She grinned back almost reluctantly. She still did not feel well enough to deal with His Majesty’s wit.
They began pacing again. “So they’ve still been around all along,” she mused
“Yes, but many are brand new recruits from the past year, never even involved with the Returners before. Some we just recruited when they showed up here, for whatever reasons they had.”
“So, no one I’d recognize?” She doubted that, none of these men were old enough to be who she was looking for.
“Not really,” Sabin said, then almost as an afterthought, “but you may know this one.”
They stopped and looked to Sabin as he walked up to a pair of nearby “recruits” conversing. He tapped on the shoulder of the one with his back to them. He turned around and Sabin signaled him to come over. He pardoned himself from his companion and came over to Terra and Edgar.
“This,” Sabin said, “is Dornhim Ruma. You might recall him; he was at the base back in the Sabres.”
“It was a long time ago,” Dornhim said near apologetically as he moved somewhat anxiously in place. “We never formally met.”
“But you met his father,” Sabin said with a teasing grin.
Dornhim was of a smaller stature than the Figaros and appeared perhaps a bit younger. He had a head of dark red hair that came down in the front nearly enough to cover up his nervous eyes, which batted around constantly. He was rather handsome, if a bit awkward, though he had gruffness in the structure of his face which reminded her of someone she once knew.
“Banon,” she said absentmindedly. As she said this, Dornhim raised his head up so that they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. For a second, she thought she recognized him, but thought it might have been his lumbering father who she was seeing. That truly had been a lifetime—over a year— ago.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Dornhim said gently—if not entirely honest—after a slightly awkward silence. He reached out his hand and mustered up a bungling smile as she shook it.
“Yes, well,” Sabin joined back in, awkward in his own way, “um, Dormy’s been keeping the whole operation running while we’ve been out. Probably all thanks to him that we have this much here in the first place.”
Dornhim lowered his head to where his hair fell back over his pronounced forehead (another trait from his father). Somehow, Terra felt strange accepting that statement.
It was then that Terra noticed the water dripping down from his bangs. She looked down and saw him cradling a ragged leather helm in his right arm.
Dornhim followed her gaze. “All we’ve been able to afford.” Terra looked away suddenly, thinking to herself she had let her disappointment with the helm show through.
“Don’t worry, though,” Dornhim assured, “we’ve still got plenty of real good ones locked away. We haven’t totally diminished.”
She thought she could see him grin sardonically, but it was gone in a second.
Edgar touched Terra’s shoulder again. “Well, shall we continue with the tour?”
Terra nodded.
“Dornhim?”
“Excuse me,” Dornhim replied. He bowed in a soldierly way that seemed somehow unfitting then turned and went back to his companion.

“…local governors, a good number of whom came into office within the last year, and putting resources together to actually provide aid for each other, and stop squabbling for once.”
Outside the barn it was still light, the red stalks of twilight just starting to appear, and King Edgar Roni Figaro had already bored Terra within the first few paragraphs of his explanation of the recent political developments within Figaro.
“’Tis a shame,” he said with what may have passed as empathy, “they do try so damn hard to be polite sometimes.”
“Edgar,” Terra interjected, “could you just…please be quiet for a little bit.”
“Surely,” he said, without the slightest inflection in his voice.
Sabin stood to her other side, looking off into the not-so-distant forest. He seemed to possess the blessed ability to block out his twin brother. Edgar, who had convinced her to hold on to his arm, stared in the opposite direction, into the small village square, humming to himself.
Suddenly Sabin stopped. “Looky there, brother.”
Edgar too stopped and looked south with his brother. He smiled. Terra put a hand to block the sun on her right to see the two figures appearing just outside the forest walking the opposite direction. One of the figures began moving at a much faster—and aggressive—pace away from the second.
Edgar’s smiled faded. “O dear God.”
As her eyes focused more clearly, Terra saw that the figures were not too far from where she stood. Or unfamiliar.
“Locke!” Sabin called. “Hey, Locke!”
Locke Cole, treasure hunter, slowly halted his course as he looked toward his friends. He then ambled toward them, occasionally glancing back toward the figure Terra now recognized as Celes Chere.
“Having some problems?” Edgar asked when Locke was climbing the gently slope toward them.
She could see the slight look of agitation in Locke’s eyes. “Psh,” said he. “As if it were my fault! I…”
He finally took the time to look up and saw that there was another amongst the brothers. His face instantly brightened into a broad smile. “Hello, Terra.”
“Afternoon, Locke.” She bowed her head.
“How are you feeling?”
“Just fine, thank you.”
“Do you need anything?” Locke, always the big brother.
“No.” Terra nodded toward the distant silhouette. “How bout you? What was that about?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s just—”
“TERRR-AAAAAAAAAAA!”
They had no time to react to the small orange flash that jettisoned towards them and wrapped itself around Terra. She was sure she would have fallen back if it weren’t for Sabin holding her up. Nevertheless, she twirled her arms for balance until her vertigo left and she could look down at the unruly mess of hair against her bosom. After holding her in strong embrace for a few seconds, Gau looked up to show his elated face and eyes bright with adoration.
She unfolded his arms from around her and bent down to hug his bare shoulders and wipe some of the dirt off his fur-pelt shirt.
“So, kiddo,” Sabin said after the two separated, “where’s the rest of your crew?”
Gau continued to smile and simply pointed his thumb over his right shoulder. As he did, a small mob of children appeared from that direction, led by two more very familiar faces. As they neared Gau and ceased their run, most of the children were in agony, doubled over and holding their sides. Relm Arrowney was out of breath, Mog not at all.
Relm slowly approached Gau with a sour look on her pretty face. “Don’t…do…that…again!”
The older child looked over his shoulder. “What take you so long?”
Relm pointed an accusing finger at him. “You ran on all fours!”
Gau shrugged.
Mog ignored this and looked up smiling at the adults. “Kupo, Terra.”
Relm and the other children, now regaining strength, looked up as well. She blushed, straightened up, and tried to dust herself off. She then did a mock curtsey for Terra in her trousers. Terra reached out and patted Relm on the head.
“Hello you two.” She looked over their heads, as if that would have made a difference. “Where’s…? Oh.”
In the distance from where the mob had come was a knoll with a single tree. Sitting beneath the tree, she could spy an immense white-furred figure waving a lanky hand at her. Terra waved back meekly.
“C’mon,” Mog said impatiently. “Umaro’s waiting for us.”
Relm curtsied again and turned with the others back the way they came. Except for Gau.
“You coming?” Mog asked him.
The boy shook his head so his long hair hit his cheeks. Mog nodded and turned as well.
Gau turned back to Terra and took her hand. “Come come, Terra! Me take you around!”
Terra looked to the men behind her. “Go ahead,” Edgar insisted amiably. “We’ll talk more later.”
That sounds unpleasant, Terra thought, but waved to them instead as Gau began tugging her down the path.



This post has been edited by Sherick on 1st December 2009 05:17

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I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...
Post #177163
Top
Posted: 16th May 2009 21:15

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Black Waltz
Posts: 970

Joined: 23/4/2004

Awards:
Voted for all the fanart in the CoNvent Calendar 2015. User has rated 150 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Member of more than ten years. User has rated 25 fanarts in the CoN galleries. 
Third place in the Final Fantasy Music CoNtest, 2010-2011 Member of more than five years. Second place in the 2007 Name that Tune contest. Second place in the 2009 Quiz contest. 
Chapter III: The Banquet

In the almost-twilight, Gau led her down the rough paths in the village, observing things for her that she could very capably have made for herself. He still held on to her hand, but used his other hand to occasionally support himself as he walked, a sad habit Terra sometimes feared he’d never break. He watched the children playing in the streets with a smile, but she thought she could detect a tinge of sadness or longing in the boy’s eyes. She patted his hand and when he looked at her, his eyes were again filled with childish emptiness.
Their walk brought them alongside a row of dilapidated houses, desecrated during the altercation of the world, and left abandoned there after by orphans who could find no use for them, or were too frightened of the past to enter. Gau pointed to them. “That were we stay.”
Terra stopped and looked. Yes, now she could see the patch jobs in the roofs, the windows emptied of their glass, the poor attempt at mending the holes in walls. She had a feeling in the back of her mind—a dread—that this was what the rest of the world beyond looked like. Her head began to throb again…
Gau pulled at her hand again. “Come! Look, that where I stay, stay with Mog.”
Terra blocked everything out of her head for now. She would have plenty of time later to reflect on everything.
Gau brought her before the poor building where he stayed. “My room in there, but it not much room, so me like stay outside.”
“Aye, and when he comes inside he bounces off the walls and makes us all shake in our beds.”
Terra looked to the porch of the small house just next door to the left, where Strago Magus was standing with cane in hand, looking down at the two of them.
Gau let go Terra’s hand and walked over to stand in front of the old man; Terra followed.
“You go bed too soon, dogsmell.”
“Gau!” Terra looked at him in surprise with arms akimbo.
Strago let out a small snort. “Well, at least Interceptor gets bathed every now and then.”
“Interceptor?”
“Doggie smell good,” Gau threw out his slender arm and pointed his finger toward Strago, “you smell funny.”
“YOU smell funny!” Strago pointed his cane right back.
“Go break hip!”
“Go take a bath!”
Gau pulled down on his left eyelid so that the red showed, and stuck out his tongue. He then turned down the path and, on all fours, ran onward.
Terra walked up closer to Strago. The old man smiled genially. “G’evening.”
“Interceptor?” she repeated.
“Shadow and I share housing.”
“Truly?” Out of them all, she had not expected Shadow to be one to stay behind here. Too serene, stable, not the kind of place a man of that nature would enjoy being around for long. At least she didn’t think so.
She told this to the old man and he laughed gently again. “Well, true that may be, I suppose he has his reasons for doing what he does.”
“Well, sometimes I wonder if he has a reason for anything he does.”
Strago just continued to smile.
“Well, in any case, neither is here at the moment.” He gestured to the open entrance to his lodging. “Hunting. Or something of the like, been gone for most parts of the last week, ‘cept to sleep. Hang around here for a little while and you might chance see him.”
“So, Relm’s staying in there too?”
“Oh,” he said, somewhat feebly, “yes….”
Terra tried to catch Strago’s averted gaze. “What is it?”
“Well, it’s just that Relm and Shadow…they’re sort of…” he seemed to grope for words, “…awkward.”
Terra nodded. “I see.” She waited for a few moments, so that Strago looked up at her, as if waiting for her further response. “You know,” she said at last, “I seem to have a rather spacious lodging, all to myself.”
Strago smiled. “Do you think it would be all right for her to move in with me?” She tried to sound pleading. She wasn’t completely sure, though, how wild she was in sharing a room with the obnoxious ten-year-old. She wouldn’t say it to Strago, though.
“Hm,” he mused, “that seems to be applicable; probably more accommodating for a young girl. Yes, I’m sure once I tell Cl—argh!” He broke off suddenly into a hoarse cough, bringing his fist to his mouth. Terra reached out to help him in whatever way she thought she could, but he stifled her with a finger. His cough turned to throat clearing and he put down both hands.
“I’m sure once I tell Relm, she will be quite thrilled.” He struck up his genial smile, which Terra returned less enthusiastically.
Strago looked up to the darkening sky. “I’m hungry.”
No sooner had the words left his lips that Terra’s stomach returned the sentiment. She put a hand to her belly and smiled with embarrassment. Strago again laughed lightly.
Back in the village square, she heard a high-pitched bell ringing rapidly. She looked in that direction, where a number of torches illuminated the growing dusk.
She looked back to Strago, who simply said “Dinner.” He reached out his hand. “Would you be so kind as to accompany an old geezer? I would be most honored; after all, it is your banquet.”
She bowed and took his hand, guided him down the steps, and walked with him down the path.
Weighing heavy on Terra’s mind, something else she would not tell Strago, was a feeling she had felt for some time now, but not been able to name until their conversation. A feeling that sometime during her unconsciousness, Shadow had died.

In the very center of Mobliz—just up from the deep pond from which protruded the saddest little building Terra had ever known—had been set the large table that Terra had formerly seen in the meeting hall. It had been adorned with surprisingly clean linen and dishes of a lesser quality and as varied as the chairs. In a wide circle around the table were at least a dozen torches.
The food presented on the table before them was none too charming either: local fauna from the wooded areas around Mobliz which she had become familiar with during her stay there. It was cooked rather feebly, most likely from the lack of decent cooking equipment. In her present state, however, the appearance of the food did not make much difference. From her seat in the middle of the table, she dove in for the platter in front of her as soon as the toasts of cider were done.
Across from her, Edgar smiled in amusement as he watched her devour her meal. Surprisingly, a half-broiled delta beetle tasted not half-bad after a seven-day coma. The others seated at the table were staring, too, she was sure, but she would not pay heed until she was sufficiently fed.
Looming over them to the north was the largest structure in Mobliz—aside from the meeting hall—and the only truly decent house left in the village. It was home to several of the town’s younger orphans, but the main inhabitants were the first ones that Terra embraced upon arriving at the banquet.
Duane and Katarin were the town’s eldest permanent inhabitants, though they were actually slightly younger than Terra herself. When she had first met them, the couple was nervous and self-conscience, badly shaken by the events that had just occurred, as were the other denizens of Mobliz—if not the whole world. They had, however, managed to save Terra and given her their bed to recover in—a situation she felt she had become far too familiar with. Something about her had caused the children to draw towards her rather than the more familiar two; she had done her best to look after them as well as be as good a mentor to the couple as possible. From the looks of the town, she had done a successful job.
The achievement was even more impressive when given that Katarin had given birth not too long ago, the little girl in question being held to her mother’s bosom at the gathering. Tina: that’s what they said her name was. They had offered, so was said, to give up part of their dwelling for Terra’s recovery. Her friends had insisted against it, saying they would not quarter any of their own in occupied houses. That had to be Edgar. Terra smiled.
She saw no other new faces at the table, however; no one whom she had not already met or been reacquainted with in the last few hours.
“Well,” Sabin said from her left, after finishing his own last leg of beetle, “you see, Cyan really wanted to go back to Doma, see how his kingdom was doing. He’s the retainer, you know, so he should become king now.”
Edgar seemed somewhat amused by the thought and smiled lightly to himself behind his glass of cider.
“He stuck around here to make sure you were all right, for about three days. Then he insisted on going to Doma. So Setzer fired up the Falcon and flew him out the next day.”
“Surely you noticed it wasn’t here?” Locke chimed in from her right, with part of a thorax still in his mouth. Not too surprisingly, Celes and he were sitting on opposite end of the table, and maintained ignorance of each other’s existence throughout the night. Far past Terra’s left, where Celes sat, many of the “recruits” were gathered around their own small fire, some with bottles in their hands.
“Will they be back?” Terra asked.
Sabin considered this. “Sometime soon, I imagine. Setzer anyway; I would think that Cyan would stay there if he were crowned.”
“So inconsiderate to put one’s responsibility ahead of one’s friends,” Edgar said off-handedly.
“What about that Gogo character?”
Locke wiped off his mouth. “Oh, he split right after we got here. Never said a word; never even got a room. Just disappeared. I have no idea what his problem is.”
“It’s not as if he was a very outgoing fellow to begin with,” said Edgar.
“Well, at least he had the decency to not mooch off these kids if he’s not even going to stick around most of the time.”
“Hey,” Sabin’s voice hardened slightly as he pointed at Locke, “he brought us most of this food.”
“No, the dog brought the food,” Edgar said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And it isn’t as if he were the only one.”
“Well, you haven’t gone out to hunt.”
“Nor have you.”
Sabin opened his mouth to rebut, but nothing came. He put down his finger and lowered his head. Edgar looked to Locke, who shrugged, and shrugged back.
Strago sat next to Edgar, on a booster seat so that he would look somewhat less juxtaposed beside the king. He simply smiled, seemingly oblivious, and poked delicately at his meal.
“’Tis good grub,” he said finally. “Whoever brought it in should be commended.” He looked to Edgar’s other side where Dornhim—who had participated in the hunt—had not even touched his food. The Returner looked about as awkward as before, hands folded together over his plate and pressed to his face. He kept a bemused look on his face, though, as he simply observed those around him.
He nodded to the old man and smiled. “I thank you, sir.”
Strago cackled. “Sir! Oh you’re trig, huh. Maybe you should try some yourself, though.”
Locke reached over and put a hand on Dornhim’s shoulder. “Well, he does have to keep up his girlish figure.”
Dornhim smiled and swatted away the hand. “I’m just fine.”
Strago reached for a long fork and sighed. “I wish I could accompany you boys out there.” Beside Strago appeared a small tan hand, feeling blindly against the table. “If only I were a little younger and more…responsive.”
In a flash movement, the old man used the fork to strike the skinny wrist beside him. “Get back, you braggart!”
Gau jumped up, shaking his hand, and took the seat next to Strago. He grabbed a plate and held it to the old man, who delivered him with some meat. As the boy—who was as tall as Strago was in the chair—dove into his food, Strago murmured “You’re welcome.”
Many of the other children, including Relm and Mog, had taken their plates away from the long table and had gathered on the ground around Umaro, of whom they had long gotten over their initial fears and now were quite enamored with. He, too, had overcome his shyness of others and was surprisingly gentle with the younger children, patiently allowing them to play with his fur, or even climb up on his immense shoulders. Duane, though, still watched him with a hawk’s eye every time a child came close.
The sound of raised voices caused Terra to start. Everyone at the table looked over to her left where two silhouettes before the fire were engaging in somewhat violent physical exchange, one wobbly lifting a half-empty cider bottle over his head.
“They look like they’re having fun,” Edgar mused.
Dornhim rolled his eyes and pushed back his chair. “I suppose I need to sort it out now. Excuse me.” He bowed his head to Terra.
Locke also pushed himself back. “I’ll come with you.” And they both left.
Terra was still watching the fight when Celes slid into the empty chair to her right. She made no sound as she took the seat; the only way Terra knew she had done it was from a short breeze given off by Celes’s flowing platinum hair.
“How are you feeling?” she said.
“Good, for now,” Terra responded. She turned to see a brief transition in Celes’s enthusiasm as she saw that she had not taken Terra by surprise at all. “How’ve you been?”
She shrugged. “Sorry I haven’t seen you yet.” She averted her gaze. “I saw you earlier but….”
“I know. What was that about, anyway?” Terra tried to choose her words carefully. “You and Locke are…?”
Celes snorted. “Trying to. Just to…see how it would work. I’m trying, but….”
She trailed off and then paused for a moment. Then she shook her head. “I don’t want to worry about it. We’ll work out some how; you don’t need to concern yourself.”
She said this amiably enough and smiled pleasantly, but Terra knew that whatever companionship they had was loose, and they hadn’t truly spoken to each other more than a handful of times. She had no real doubt that Celes cared about her…most of the time. The bond that had been built between them, as between all of them, was far too strong now for one to not somehow see another as kin, as another part of their own soul. So Terra had thought. But she also felt that perhaps Celes and she were too alike, in both personality and in history, to be able to get too close to one another without straining themselves. At times, Terra felt that Celes might even have been jealous of the attention she garnered from Locke, but Terra herself never saw this as a problem. Locke was, after all, always the big brother.
“Honestly, though,” Celes said, breaking Terra’s train of thought. “Are you feeling okay?”
The sincerity in her voice made Terra uncomfortable. She lowered her head a little, as well as her voice.
“No,” she finally said. “I feel like I’m freezing from the inside out.”
Celes nodded. She looked to Edgar who was still watching the asinine brawling, or at least pretending to. Then she turned back to Terra.
“I know. It’s in your stomach, right? That emptiness?”
For the first time that night, Terra looked directly into Celes’s eyes.
“Remember, I’ve been infused with Magitek since birth. I’ve spent my entire life with it in my blood, too.”
Of course Terra remembered; she had been there too, serving the Empire against her will, just as, in a manner, Celes was. She had seen first-hand what the young woman could do even before contact with the espers. Those, though, were memories she would not mind being repressed.
“It’s nothing compared to what you must have, though,” Celes said. “What I’ve lived with was artificial, as powerful as it was. It was part of me, part of my body, but not part of my soul. When it happened, I didn’t even feel a difference. After a day or two it kicked in, and I felt sick, like—”
“Like a fire had gone out,” Terra finished.
Celes nodded, with a mournful look. “Yes. It chilled me. But I got over it.”
Locke and Dornhim had by now settled the dispute, though Terra did not look to see how. Seeing Celes, they took seats at the farthest end of the table. Celes barely glanced at them and gave her attention back to Terra.
“Hopefully you’ll be like that too, but,” she put her hand on Terra’s, “I wouldn’t count on it.”
Terra continued to look into Celes’s eyes. It still made her uncomfortable, that mournfully sincere look, but somehow it did make her feel relieved.
She tried to smile a little. “Didn’t they used to say that you had ice in your veins?”
Celes smiled back. “For a time, at least, they were right.”
Edgar sat with his elbows on the table and his face pressed against folded hands, now looking forward.
Celes, still smiling, but in a mildly sardonic tone, said “What are you looking at, Your Majesty?”
“Oh,” he said from behind his hands, “just a little lost dog.”
Celes gave him a quizzical look and then turned around, as did Terra. From down the dirt road Terra had taken here came a large dog, black with brown, with a muzzle riddled with scars. Behind it was a solitary dark figure.

This post has been edited by Sherick on 30th June 2012 21:38

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I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...
Post #177462
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Posted: 4th June 2009 21:06

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Chocobo Knight
Posts: 99

Joined: 27/5/2006

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Wow.

I really, really like this.

The Characterization is great and the idea is interesting, I completely skipped over the drama and hardship of rebuilding the shattered world in my fanfic because I thought it would be too much to tackle so I just kinda skimmed over it. You're attacking it straight on though which is something I haven't really seen in a FFVI fanfic before, or at least, it isn't something I've seen done this well before.

Keep going, this was a really enjoying read. Thumbs up man thumbup.gif

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Post #178049
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Posted: 20th June 2009 08:19

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Black Waltz
Posts: 970

Joined: 23/4/2004

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Voted for all the fanart in the CoNvent Calendar 2015. User has rated 150 fanarts in the CoN galleries. Member of more than ten years. User has rated 25 fanarts in the CoN galleries. 
Third place in the Final Fantasy Music CoNtest, 2010-2011 Member of more than five years. Second place in the 2007 Name that Tune contest. Second place in the 2009 Quiz contest. 
Chapter IV: I Hate Magic

Instantly, all those situated around the table went silent and looked toward the dog and his master. They both kept walking down the dirt path without taking any notice. Sabin, who had kept silent this whole while, greeted them.
“Welcome back, Shadow. How was the hunt?”
Slung over Shadow’s right shoulder was a knotted rope from which dangled the corpses of at least a dozen mid-sized mammals whose deadly claws were still extended in vain. From his other shoulder hung a large leather sack, from which several protruding feathers could be seen. Given this, Shadow chose not to answer.
When he approached the table, he made as if to turn left and go around but stopped in mid-motion. Instead, he turned his head slightly towards Terra. Then, in a rasp, yet oddly tranquil voice that may have gone unheard if not for the silence, said, “You are feeling well?”
Terra found herself shortly shocked, and even a little warm around the ears. Despite all the attention she had received, all the concern directed toward her, and how self-conscious she had felt, she had not been truly embarrassed by it until now. It didn’t make her feel any better that she was now staring at Shadow with her mouth agape as she tried to find some response.
Finally she found her voice and said, “Yes. Feeling well.” She was relieved that her voice did not come out as a croak. He nodded, once, and then continued walking. Everyone continued to stare as the two continued down the path.
“Being rather social today, that one,” Edgar said after Shadow had passed.
“Yeah…” said Sabin in a musing manner.
“You know what?” Celes grinned at Terra and nudged her elbow. “I think he likes you.”
Terra tried to return the smile as best she could, but could not meet the gaze. She could feel herself turning red again. Down the road, Shadow’s pooch stopped briefly by the grouping of children and made as if to approach Relm. Shadow, however, made a sharp whistle that instantly caused Interceptor to halt and follow his master.
“Lucky you,” Edgar said under his breath.

Now that Terra got a good look at her room, she could just how spacious it was; at least for a single person. Even during her previous stay in Mobliz, she had rarely ventured into the homes of her new charges, let alone those left abandoned. She felt a little ashamed now, but at the time, it had not seemed necessary. Now, though, she had some company.
The young girl looked around her new boarding with anxiousness, gripping her haversack close. Terra made herself smile as pleasantly as possible.
“This should be more comfortable. I don’t take up much room.”
It was true; she had very few possessions. Some clothes; armor of course; Katarin had tried to get Terra into wearing makeup, but it had not caught on. It always came off whenever she morphed, anyway.
Relm smiled but kept an anxious look. “Okay,” she said.
In the extended silence that followed, Terra looked to the made bed on the opposite end of the room. She pointed it out to Relm, who dropped her sack and sat down on it. Terra sighed. Now the kid decided to be modest.
“We’ve known each other for a while, haven’t we?”
Relm looked up. After a few moments, she nodded.
“Well you don’t need to act so timid. This is as much your home right now as it is mine.”
She smiled again, more sincerely this time. “I know. And thank you; Gramps said you volunteered to room with me.”
Well…
“It’s no problem. I’d be keeping this entire apartment to myself, so I don’t think that it’s fair for you to have to share with two grown men.”
“Gramps said it was to get more room, but I just don’t think Shadow likes me,” Relm said gloomily. She was looking at the floor. “I don’t think he likes the way his dog likes me.”
Terra sighed again. Was this the same girl who had followed her through the forbidden tunnels of Crescent Mountain? Who had stood fearlessly in front of Chadernook; even the maniac himself?
Fortunately, Relm managed to find sleep easily in her new dwelling. For Terra, it would not be so.
She was fortunate, though, that the girl did conk out so quickly, for she could just as quickly sneak out to the adjacent lavatory. And just as fortunate that she did not wake her new roommate, for she felt she would easily burst if she had to wait any longer.

She sat curled in the feeble position, shaking violently. She was breathing heavy—almost wheezing—and could hear herself grunting involuntarily every now and then. She just hoped she wouldn’t wake Relm. She had already hurled into the commode twice, and felt more would come out.
What surprised her was that she had been able to hold herself together for this long. It had taken an enormous amount of willpower to keep her composition once she had come out in front of the orphans, in front of the recruits, in front of her own best friends. The initial astonishment with everything around her had assisted in suppressing her illness, and had carried throughout the chaining events that lead her from morning to evening. But in her heart of hearts, she had known that her sickness had not passed, even that it would come at her in full fury once her awareness was no longer occupied.
Putting Relm into the equation had been icing on the cake, too. That added roughly another hour (not that Terra had been counting) that she had to suffer silently. Now she was even denied the dignity of freely expressing the fullest extent of her agony in solitude. And gods, even her own stomach had betrayed her. For better or worse, no hints of illness were present when the food appeared. All the sustenance that her body had craved after a week of fasting was now exhausted, and all she could think was, What a waste of resources for the village.
Three times.
Terra had never gotten drunk, and she had certainly never been pregnant, but she had a good idea this is what it would have felt like experiencing both a hangover and morning sickness at the same time. Perhaps with some food poisoning thrown in. It wasn’t just in her stomach and head, neither; the back of her neck, her upper arms, the pads of her feet, even her unmentionables were splitting at the nerves. The only place she didn’t feel was her fingers, which had turned completely numb as they gripped her tremulous shoulders.
She had for most of her life hated magic. It had estranged her, made her different, frightened people away from her, made her a tool for the Empire; even as a child, in the drone-like state she was kept in, she had been aware of this. She had of course committed horrible acts, though she hadn’t been aware if it at the time. But there was never any escaping the looks—even of those who had accompanied her in these acts—looks of fear, astonishment, and disgust. In fact, only one didn’t share those stares…
(Burn, burn them all!)
A terrible shiver ran down Terra’s spine.
Yes, and even after she had become aware, been awakened, the horrors of her gift didn’t cease. She could still vividly recall how her own screams had mingled with those of the people she tormented in her feral state, both the screams that tore out from her drooling mouth and the ones trapped inside her head. She despised that which had kept her from a normal existence, at peace here with the children…
And now, more than ever, she hated magic for not existing. She even missed the fur, which once covered her now bare, freezing shoulders; the bristles that seemed electric to the touch, in a color like the outermost edges of the clouds as the light of the rising sun touches them. She looked hideous; but at least she would have been warm.
As she for the fourth time gripped the edges of the commode with unsteady hands, and drooped her head over it—careful still that her hair not fall in, too—she continued to wheeze and cough and hack. But there were no tears. She, like Celes, had been well conditioned by the Empire. There were never any tears. Just another aspect to keep her separated from the rest of the world. It was said of Celes Chere that she had ice running through her veins; but Terra was not sure the same could not be said of her. Surely, it felt that way.
Yes, a flame has most undoubtedly gone out. A bright, pink flame.
I hate magic.

Terra had not meant to fall asleep on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t dared, though, to take her chances and go to her bed. So, when Relm came in for her morning necessaries, she found Terra lying on her side, slightly curled, with her mouth open and a slim silver line of drool hanging out.
Relm shook her gently. “Terra?” Her voice seemed far away. “Terra, are you okay?”
Terra, who was still quite pale, looked into Relm’s wide nervous eyes. She wiped her mouth and lifted herself into a sitting position.
“Oh gosh, you look sick.” Relm stood up and looked around anxiously. “I’m…I’ll go get Gramps,” she said finally.
As she turned to take off, Terra grabbed her ankle. “No.” She was surprised how fully her voice came out. “Don’t. I’m okay.”
Relm watched her uncertainly as she grabbed the sink and lifted herself up. She wobbled out of the lavatory, patting Relm’s shoulder as she passed.
Lying in her bed was ecstasy. After all that, she now felt much better. If she still felt a little queasy, it was probably from the loss of the fluids she had dry-heaved. One day of mental anguish, one night of physical...
Perhaps Celes was right...she was going to be okay. Terra closed her eyes and felt herself smile.

II.

The setting were instantly recognizable to her: she was outside the main hall in the Imperial Palace at Vector. It was one of the large adjacent rooms, with a staircase leading down from the platform where she stood, overlooking the floor below her. The walls were of the dark metal the rest of the palace was constructed of, as was the floor. In the air was a cacophony of metallic dinging as the soldiers and staff below her moved about. She couldn't tell what they were doing, but that made sense; she hadn't had the slightest care about them on that day, so now of course recollection came slow.
Though one would not have been able to tell by looking at her, she was happy. Elated, actually. It had taken her fifteen years, and while some would say it hadn't in fact been a real fifteen years of work—she herself was in fact only sixteen―she could feel the toil she had experienced every day since she was a toddler even now. Yes, this was by far the happiest Celes had ever felt in her life.
In her state of mind, it took her longer to register the presence of another than it should have, though she still picked up before the tink-tink of boots on metal announced it. The sound of all those flowing clothes flapping in the breeze should have been impossible for a professional of her caliber not to notice. She turned her head in the direction of the man in the capes and feathers, strutting, as he like to do, at a slow leisurely pace.
“A pleasant evening, colonel.” The man―whose rank she now matched―held a long crystalline pipe between the fore and middle finger of his right hand and raised it to his mouth. When he took it out, he blew out a lavender smoke. “Or should I say: general?”
He spoke the same way he moved his arm: very pronounced, in a manner that seemed to be striving for an air of sophistication, and instead managed to create an overall unnatural feeling (to say “inhuman” when have been too easy, and she knew this firsthand). Celes knew that he had a naturally mid-ranged voice, like a normal man, but chose―though she would begin to question how much of anything he did was by choice―to speak in sporadic register switches, usually opting for a higher, prissy tone and would end his phrased by either dropping down or escalating into near-falsetto.
When a person heard him do this for the first time―and it was almost always on the second hearing he would do this―they tended to jump, with one of those idiotic “did-I-just-hear-that?” looks on their face. Even before seeing the general in action, this was enough to cause any persons, soldier or not, to twitch visibly when in his presence. While Celes was above this, she could always feel herself reaching covertly to her blade.
When she offered him no reply, he slowly came to a stop. His crimson smile stayed.
“Of course, you no longer have reason to salute me,” his purple-with-orange-hem cape gently touched down against his calves, “though I pray you will not begrudge me the pleasure.”
He moved his feet together, though his heels did not touch, and shot downward a stiff left arm, which arced at the elbow so that his fingers where before his face. Rather than soldierly, the gesture managed to seem somehow perverse. He had a way of doing that.
He lowered his hand. “Your parents would be so proud.” He put the pipe back to his mouth and continued―even slower this time―toward her.
“Some may hand out brickbats on account of your age.” When he walked now, one foot in front of the other, he pulsated himself up with each step. The rhythm of the walk converged on that of his voice until the entire strut became some sort of dance. She could even hear the music, playful yet menacing. Da da da da DA da…
“However, I too was of a particularly young age when I achieved the rank. Although my years were many more…”
He finally stopped three feet away from her. “Not that I’m envious.” His eyes moved top to bottom to top along her. “There’s at least one more sin I’d put ahead of it.”
She felt―now as then―a shiver run up her spine and began to reach for the sword at her side.
“We are, after all, equals now.”
For a while he just stood there, smiling at her behind his haunting jester paint. She did not avert her gaze. After a few moments―or hours―he suddenly raised his pipe up again, then stopped before it reached his mouth. With his mouth still open in anticipation, he looked down to his hand, then beamed broader.
He turned it around and pushed it toward Celes. “To honor your promotion.”
She stared down at the pipe, looked back to him, then back to the pipe.
“Please,” his tone was now mockingly pleading, “a sign of our camaraderie.”
She looked at him again, that unchanging, unsettling expression of complete sincerity, his eyebrows arched in absolute geniality. She took the pipe. It was surprisingly heavy, weighted off by the large bowl at the end.
Cautiously she gripped it with both hands and held it to her mouth. Before the mouthpiece had even touched her lips, she could feel the fumes coming out. When she did get it to her mouth, the smoke was like fire on her tongue and gums. She immediately took it out, coughing as the lavender-colored smoke filled her vision, burning her eyes. She dropped the pipe, heard it shatter on the metal tiles.
She clawed at her eyes, panting and moaning, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. The dandy general was laughing, his voice slowly climbing up to a piercing shriek. When she finally opened her watery eyes, she no longer recognized her surroundings. The walls were fuchsia, the floor vermillion, the smoke still rising from the destroyed pipe a kind of deep green. She spun around and around, her feet failing her. She could now hear the music again, louder than before: Da da da da DA da…
Then suddenly there he was. What colors made up his bizarre palette, her brain could no longer gather all together. His face was now roughly as large as she was, his eyes like cannonballs, his enormous mouth stuffed full of hundreds of teeth. She turned around again and there he was. There were three psychedelic clown faces around her, and they were multiplying. Spiraling around her, they eventually merged until she was now faced with one room-sized facade.
Now when his voice came out, it was low-pitched, amplified dozens of times in her head, the presumptuousness gone but not without a playful quality. She would never forget it:
“Stay the fuck out of my way.”
And then she passed out.

Celes woke up, screamed, clawing still at her eyes. After realizing the only reason her eyes were burning was because of her nails, she stopped, and for a number of minutes the only sound was that of her heavy breathing. She was certainly glad her roommate―Cyan―was not there.
No…please, she thought. No more nightmares. Not again.
But it wasn’t really a nightmare; it was a memory. She had seen it the way it had occurred, every word, every move. How quickly the happiest day of her life―at the time―had become the most miserable―at the time. Now in the darkness, she could see the afterimage of that face in the center of her vision, a perfect recollection aside from the inverted colors. Nearly three years later…
She had made sure not to have that kind of contact with Kefka again, though had not avoided him or showed any kind of weakness in his presence. Not that it had mattered; he knew. Knew that under her icy, austere soldier-face, she was a teenage orphan who, while clearly brilliant in military matters, was simple in most matters of life and frightened by that which she did not understand.
And in that short ultra-tweak, she believed he had taken from her what precious little innocence she had left. Not that he had violated her―she recalled being very certain after reviving that he had not―but he had stripped her of the feelings of security and self-empowerment she had achieved up to that point. She had learned to watch out for herself and even maintain a slight bit of independence under the Imperial shroud. Kefka was always intimidating, yes, but she had never been truly terrified by anyone or anything before that. She had quickly realized that he was undisputed at mind games and mind tricks, and would eventually learn that he could perform mental gymnastics around her. Yes, she had started to believe that in his warped mind he had no control over what he did…but by the time that she was finally able to combat him, she no longer believed it.
She stopped shaking, the afterimage died, and her breathing steadied. She sighed. Even after his death, she still sat here analyzing Kefka Palazzo. Just another fantastic side effect; military conditioning, Imperial brainwashing, and magic…
But not magic. Not pure magic, like Terra has. Magitek.
For a moment, she could feel the emptiness in her veins where the artificial junk had once joined with her blood, and shivered. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Terra must feel, but she hated it just the same.
After sitting in the darkness long enough, she got to the point where she didn’t see a demonic, neon clown face when she closed her eyes. She lay back down and closed her eyes, but prayed that she would not go back to sleep.


This post has been edited by Sherick on 1st December 2009 05:27

--------------------
I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...
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