Air Wave
V : twilight
To his utter surprise, he found himself at a loss of words. Some memories rushed through his mind, and he distastefully welcomed the one he had successfully avoided; on his seventh birthday, his father rendered him speechless by offering him the gift he fervently loathed. Promises of bright future soon dwindled away as he unclipped deceptive masks of the Judges. No future could be earned under those metallic coats.
But the matter was different now. The words he'd recited cast him dumbfounded, and under Fran's boring glare, he felt like a little kid again. This time, the sky pirate Balthier made himself speechless. He didn't mind calling himself a blind fool now, because maybe he really was—saying those things to a woman who had just said she loathed love?
He was trying to find an ant in the darkness, he mused mockingly to himself.
At the other hand, he didn't know what had possessed him to say that; Occuria toying with his mind? Or his brain was just severely damaged? Both sounded about right. But the only thing he knew was these fires, high and tall and lined in a battalion, pushing him forward. The scorching threat burned his hibernating senses.
"Have you just gotten yourself into another challenge, Balthier?" Fran's voice chimed in, tinted with planned surprise and disbelief. Her crimson eyes looked like blood than ever, under the orange sheepish gleams of the sun. She shook her head, lips twitching upward. "Cannot believe this, can I? You're a brave one."
He cringed. "Yes, I think I am. I always have the bad habit of going into so many impossible challenges."
Fran tilted her head to the side, one hand on her hip. "Not really surprised. How long has it been? Years I've been traveling with you; I'm not aghast."
Balthier rubbed at his chin. "Yes. And as well as you know me, you are aware that my words aren't going back into my mouth." There was a long brooding silence between them after that, in which the birds filled with jovial serenade. After a while, he decided to speak again, "let's resume walking. We're nearly there."
The Viera inclined her head in acknowledgement as she plucked another arrow from her quiver. Balthier casually inserted another bullet into his gun. And as both their arrow and bullet perforated the air, rushing towards the hiding beasts, Balthier's heart raced matching his bullet's speed.
He cursed when he missed his target just an inch away, but Fran's arrow stuck between the monster's eyes.
--
"They're not giving up, are they?" Fran tiredly commented when another beast leapt with its mouth wide open, showing a row of sharp, pointed teeth to tear her apart. But with ease she released an arrow, and soon the monster lay motionless on the ground, lifeless. "They are annoying." She said with brows deeply furrowed.
At that, Balthier let out a bitter laugh. "They won't be monsters if they aren't annoying, Fran." A loud bang filled the air. He turned sideways and kicked a beast before launching a bullet at its head. He looked up. There was quite a distance between them now; Fran seemed to enjoy every tune of her bow, and around her scattered the enemies, all haphazardly piled up in an unpleasant way.
Balthier berated to himself when he saved himself just in time. He stepped backward and noticed more beasts coming. He groaned. "They are annoying."
"They won't be monsters if they aren't annoying," Fran said, as she dodged the ravenous bite from a wolf and flashed her partner a small smile.
"Okay," he sighed. "You want death so badly, don't you?" he asked his enemies wryly, and they growled at him in response. "My, not really friendly, are you?" Unfazed, he pulled the trigger of his gun. "One down. They seem wanting for more."
For some moments both Balthier and Fran—separated by a mass of enemies and obscuring reeds and stalks—embroiled themselves in a small party of bloodshed to survive. Both, although skilled and well-prepared, were trying not to act reckless. They didn't want to underestimate these beasts, especially if they were coming in a large troop with empty bellies.
Hours seemed to fly by as the monsters around Balthier gradually receded into a smaller group. He grimaced and looked down to his arm, where a long, sore gash had been carved by the beast he just killed. He spent some other minutes by ducking his head down, whirling around, stepping backward, crouching to save his life. Finally, when there were only two beasts left encircling him, he let himself relax a little.
But his stomach gave a sudden jolt when a loud, wailing cry mercilessly punctured the calming air. Chills ran down his spine. Shrouded with utter horror, Balthier turned around and saw his partner surrounded by a large number of howling wolves, each trying to rip her apart. One of them had succeeded in hurting her. Fran was cornered now; her mouth fumbling for the right spell to say.
Outraged, Balthier swiveled around and ignored the beasts. When one of them blocked his way, he smote it with his gun and continued running. But he knew he wouldn't make it there on time. Clamped between distress and burning resentment, he muttered the only spell in his mind, urgently: "Blizzaja!"
The effect of the spell was not appealing. He had hoped it would smash down the enemies into splinters, but it just made them falter for a moment. Balthier knew he was never good at magick, yet now he wished that he were any better. As the monsters rallied, imprecation slipped from his mouth.
He failed—that was the first thing that came into his frenzied mind while they howled triumphantly, prey successfully captured. He expected to behold a dreadful scene of splattered blood or broken limbs or whatever that defined demise, but none came. Instead he became blind for some seconds, as white light diffused around Fran and embraced her enemies in a silent catastrophe.
He suddenly felt weak; he could perceive no ground under his feet, the back of his head was tortured with loud throbbing that echoed over and over, and a wave of nausea swelled inside his stomach. As the light faded, leaving only a faint green glow over Fran's body, his curse grew louder. But it was soon suppressed when the remaining beasts skittered away with strangled, horrified screams trailing behind their down-turned tails.
Balthier marveled at what supposed to be the circle in which the beasts had stood proudly, for there was nothing there now. No traces left behind. Just Fran lying unconscious, surrounded by beds of trampled flowers and grass.
He staggered to his feet as he tried to garner his poise. Not even a trace of blood. Or fallen fur. Or something. There was…nothing.
Wh-what on earth was that? What in heaven's sake did I just witness?
--
"What happened to me?" Fran queried her partner as she tried to sit up, defying the pain that somehow had spread throughout her body. She clutched her head when her ambience swirled into a blur of undefined colors.
"Ah, you're finally awake." Balthier stated simply, despite of what had just occurred. He walked over to her, leaving his sanctuary by the big pine tree and squatted beside her. "How do you feel now?"
"After almost got eaten by a group of voracious wolves?" She shook her head. "Not really good. There are big drums inside my head, all pounding stridently and refusing to cease."
Balthier let out a low chuckle. He seated himself beside her. "That doesn't sound really good. And you have slept for at least two hours," he nodded his head towards the sky which was the rich color of red and pink; the sun was descending lower and lower into the horizon, casting its dusking rays across the overlapping leaves above them. "I'm afraid we've missed a good nap at Rabanastre, and the chance to walk around and observe our—"
"What actually happened?" She cut him off, pulling herself up and ignoring the protests her cramped muscles screamed. "The beasts. They're…" She glanced around. "Did you kill them all?"
The pose caught Balthier off guard. For a while he just gawked at Fran in disbelief. Her puzzled countenance made him close his mouth eventually, though it didn't make him feel any better. He simply couldn't believe it. Who in the hell had been wrapped inside that blinding light? And the monsters! Hadn't they been obliterated by it? Balthier wanted to scream in frustration.
He was the one who supposed to ask the question in the first place.
But then he recalled the occurrence in the escape pod, and how that green glow suddenly emerged out of nowhere. He cringed and weighed the odds. Scratching his chin, he noticed Fran's probing gaze on him. Whatever it was, he couldn't tell its origin, and why or how Fran had never known about it. And it seemed like the light always appeared whenever they were in grave danger.
Balthier groaned and Fran raised an eyebrow, patient. "Yes, you can say that," he finally said with obvious reluctance. "I sort of…eliminated them." At this Fran raised the other brow. "It isn't important," he pressed, back stiffened. "You're safe and that fact is pleasing enough. What we need now is to find shelter as soon as possible. Rabanastre isn't too far from here, do you think you can endure a mile or so?"
Fran nodded her head in affirmation. "Of course."
A mischievous smirk played across Balthier's lips. "Or…do you want some service? To be carried, perhaps?"
The Viera's face contorted into a derisive sneer as she whirled around, her voice sounding affronted: "I need not such helpless luxury, Balthier."
He grinned. "Understood, my lady."
And for a moment, the perturbing thought of that queer light was diminished from his mind. Not that he would find the solutions to resolve it, anyway. Not yet.
Vaan knocked on the door repeatedly. Impatience was occupying the heavy air around him. "Penelo!" he shouted, irritated. "Would you ever come out? It has been like good three hours and you still haven't shown your nose and it's—"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied a voice that matched his annoyance. There was a sound of metal and boxes hitting the floor, then a loud thud against a bark. After a minute that was filled with frustrated groans, a blonde head popped out from behind the door. Soon Penelo revealed herself, her cheeks were tinted pink. "I told you to wait! Don't you have patience, oh Vaan? How old are you—"
"Penelo?" Vaan's grey eyes widened and were clouded with utter shock and almost-unseen-astonishment. His mouth hung open, giving him an idiotic look only he alone possessed. "Penelo?" he echoed, his voice accelerating in volume that invited strange looks from the people around them. "Is that you?"
Penelo's already-pink-cheeks flushed even redder. She pouted and stalked away, dragging a dumbstruck Vaan behind her. "First," she looked over her shoulder, her light blonde hair swaying in the breeze. "That is literally impolite, and you should apologize."
"Penelo! What the hell…" The boy eyed her, and she flushed even more furiously under his awed, scrutinizing gaze. However, Penelo failed to see the wonder in his eyes. "...the hell happened to you?"
The question infuriated her. "Nothing." She snapped, jarring her teeth.
Engulfed with brooding silence, Vaan took the chance to observe his friend. Clad in pale pink dress which edges rippled gracefully some inches above her knees, Penelo sure looked different. Her hair was still braided like usual, but this time she used a pair of silky, reddish-purple ribbons with golden lines to tie her hair together. Astonishment struck him again. Even when Penelo grumbled again, he stayed unfazed.
"I don't know what possessed me to do this," the blonde girl said, looking displeased. She averted her stare down to her dress. And suddenly felt ill. "It's stupid, right, Vaan?" No response. "It was my choice, though. I think I have to take the consequences. Never knew they would be this bad,"
As Penelo continuously and endlessly ranted to herself, Vaan could just give in to the force that was pulling him forward. Everything around him suddenly became insignificant, and the chatters that long had filled the air were now stuffed randomly at the back of his head. His mouth was still hanging open.
A little voice echoed in his mind; tell her how astounding she looks. Later.
Rays of light greeted them as the guards opened the gate.
"Do you need something, your majesty?"
Ashe stopped fiddling with her gown and with heart thumping loudly against her chest, she looked up at the woman's voice. A gentle gaze met her ashen eyes. She let out a breath of relief, and with authority spoke, "no, thank you."
"You don't look very well, your majesty." The woman said again, bending lower to examine her countenance. Ashe anxiously rubbed at her temples, trying to get rid of cold sweats.
"I'm fine," she mulishly stated, forcing a smile upon her lips. Her eyes darted around the room. Once she spotted the big window, she let the outside vista overwhelm her vision. The street was padded with so many people; laughing and chanting together as if Christmas was upon them; humming jubilantly even though the tones seemed crooked and unpleasant; dancing and jumping around like any other youth. Kids were running around, swinging popsicles and candies over their head; their faces proud. Manmade lights illuminated the chaotic street, and multi-hued balloons were tied to so many poles that arched above the people.
"Your majesty?"
Ashe snapped her head at the maid's voice. Summoning a smile again, she compelled her stubborn legs to move. Several corridors she passed, empty and barren except for some paintings of the past hanging on the wall. The red carpet below made no sound as her feet scuffled against its daubed dust. Finally, after some minutes passed, a giant door emerged from under darkness, looking haunting like a specter of lost wisdom.
She inhaled deeply. Behind her she could perceive the maid approaching. "It is not usual," began the old woman. "For your majesty to act nervous. Is something wrong…?"
Ashe shook her head, gesturing for the guards to hold the door close still. Her eyes roamed around the corridor; pictures of old memories, old glory and victory, old feuds and companionship, euphoria… She shrank.
"I just…suddenly feel so small," Ashe took some steps towards the nearest painting. Her fingertips trailed across the monochrome surface. "As if I was born anew, and still the small Ashe I've forgotten. Surrounded with majestic flowers with aromatic scent, bestowed with splendor, smiling and laughing to no end…" She sighed, letting her hand drop to her side. Her eyes looked clouded, and thunders were roaring behind their gray layers. "I hope this isn't a dream."
The maid smiled gently, ushering her to the door. "This isn't, your majesty." The guards were opening the door slowly, bringing a sudden choir of joy into the dim lit corridor and making Ashe shiver. "And the Ashe you've forgotten, it is time to remember her and reclaim her. You deserve her," the maid whispered softly.
Ashe stepped forward, only to be hailed with euphoric shouts and whoops. Inhaling deeply, she tried to reassure herself that everything would be fine. And when she looked at the people—her people—her heart was brimmed with new hopes. As she stepped onto the stage, she stifled a sudden burst of tears that was pricking her eyes.
These people deserved this.
At least she knew that much.
"A place of reminiscences," was Balthier's flat comment when the two of them got into the whooping crowds.
"Where Vaan won and you lost," objected his partner beside him, deadpan.
"That is not what I'm talking about, please."
Fran shrugged, a small smirk dancing across her lips.
Rabanastre was awfully bright that night; various lights and lamp streets glimmered brightly and blissfully, as though the stars in heaven had been diluted and sent down to the earth. A splotch of gold gilded the cobblestone roads beneath them. Roads of gold. Made and structured for only kings and queens, but now victory and happiness, peace and tranquility.
But what amazed them the most was the people; they seemed so fresh, the wrinkles that tainted their faces were subdued by the elated aura, and their children were the happiest children on the entire face of the planet. There was no look of depression, lethargic countenance, poignant expression, fear, or smell of death. In one night, Rabanastre had changed.
"You can differentiate it quite easily," Fran placed a hand on her hip, scrutinizing her surroundings with a penetrating look. "This is a big change."
Balthier stretched his arms. "Aye," he agreed, following her gaze. "Shall we dance?"
She gave him a quizzical—accusing look. Her lithe eyebrows were drawn into a frown as she flicked her hair back. "Are you blind?"
"I can see you perfectly from here."
"That is not what I mean."
"Bathed in gracious splendor of night and—"
Fran leaned forward, hissing dangerously to his ears, "I am taller than you, human." She drew back, her hair lustrous under the radiance of the moon. "Don't tell me you're trying to make a fool of yourself." Her lips twitched, and a look of disbelief swept across her face.
"Like that would stop me from dancing with my partner! It's been awhile since the last time I danced, and I kind of miss it, now."
Fran waved a hand in the hair, emphasizing her disagreement. "No. Why not find our friends?" She tried to change the topic, and her attempt proved successful.
"No. I want to leave them guessing whether we are still alive or not," he beckoned for Fran to follow her, and she did so. "That would be interesting. But it's a pity we didn't see Ashe giving a speech. I was curious."
"You have so many games, Balthier."
"You always know."
They were now in front of a bar shining red against its background. Fluorescent lights at the rooflines were gleaming in a surreal way, each light adjacent to each other. The beams filtering out the window were obscured by moving shadows inside the bar. Even out here, the noise was distinct, if not too loud.
Balthier, after examining the place for some time, turned his head to his partner. With flickering gaze he asked, "What do you think? I want to have some drink."
Fran's muscles tensed. Her red eyes reflected off the luminous light, and blended making them look glossy and starry. "Drink? Drink, you say? Don't try to remind me of something so ridiculously ludicrous, Balthier."
He waved a hand in the air and shrugged nonchalantly. His eyes moved to the bar almost imperceptibly. "Let's have some fun for a bit."
Fran had to yank him away from the dark door. "What on earth are you thinking?" she snapped brusquely, eyes wide. "Last time I remember, I had to drag you into the room and you slept like a good dork until midday!" She was breathless. Not to her surprise, Balthier answered her quite calmly.
"That happened long ago, Fran. Please, can't you move on? I've grown up a bit." He stared at the dark, wooden door longingly, as if the place was a cave of treasures and gold. "And. I don't like to tarry here. They could find us…or worse."
The Viera had recovered from her outburst. Her rigid shoulders slumped. "…You're out of your mind. But fine. We shall go inside and you drink, but remember one thing, should you get inebriated, I will not drag you to anywhere, instead let you root in your chair until the bartender himself comes and pours water on your face."
The gunman whistled. "Wow. I feel frightened!"
"You should." Fran gave him a glare.
Grinning widely, Balthier scurried towards the door, held it open for Fran who wrinkled her nose in disagreement, and closed it again once they were inside. In an instant, they suddenly became deaf; people nattered on about their life, what would become of Rabanastre, Ashe, their work; the over high-pitched tones that were filled with excitement, the sound of hands banging numerous tables, the harsh laughs. But what attracted Fran the most was probably the thick scent of cigarettes and liquor.
She wrinkled her nose deeper as Balthier plowed through the tables and chairs and people, trying to find an empty table. Drinks, cigarettes. She abhorred them. She couldn't understand why humans were attracted so much to them, couldn't live without them. It's as if those things were a part of their pathetic, ephemeral life. What was the good of drinking something tasted queer and getting your stomach full then becoming drunk you couldn't even see your way? You even could make a fool of yourself, babbling about something incoherently, or worse, revealing your goddamn secrets.
Fran didn't understand, and maybe never would. What made beers and liquor so good?
They finally managed to find an empty table, rather far from the core of noise and shouts. Fran, despite her disapproval, seated across herself from Balthier. A man with round face and red cheeks and nose tottered towards them, his plump ass bumping the chairs as he walked.
"Hey! Whacha gonna order? And here I tellin' ya to be quick, 'cause y'know, it's pretty crowded and sticky here, and I can't sit around and wait for 'em to order." His accent was thick and funny, and his tone was rising higher and higher futilely trying to surpass the surge of noise. "So your orders, lady and gent?" He pulled out a small writing pad from inside his filthy pocket. His small green eyes rolled searching for answers.
"A glass of strong liquor, the finest you have." Balthier said, leaning against his chair. "I want to coddle myself a little. And some food that will suffice us."
The man turned his head to Fran, who was twirling her strands of hair in her fingers. "I am not ordering liquor or wine," she stated and leaned forward. "Warm cappuccino, if you please."
"Ah." The big man looked surprised, as if ordering something other than beer was strange. "Okay. I'll be back in some minutes, if the chairs and tables and people were not piled up like pigs in stall!"
Balthier laughed while Fran frowned, displeased by the statement. The bartender dug through the crowd again, his stocky legs moving fast. For a while they just gazed at their surroundings. There were too many people talking at the same time now, and it was hard to make out what their topic was. They probably chattered about the same old things. How repetitive.
The bar smelled of sweat. A plume of smoke billowed from the centre of the room, and it was when Fran voiced out her shock: "I can't believe this place even belongs to Rabanastre, with Ashe ruling around. So…unlike the things I've imagined. Suppose to be clean, organized and all."
Balthier chortled and bent forward, crossing his arms and putting them at the edge of the table. He was having that lopsided smirk on his face. "Fran, Fran. You know, sometimes when a hero won a war and returned home crowned with victory, his family usually found him dirty and unorganized."
Fran chose to think she didn't know what the hell that statement meant.
He laughed.
"You don't have to be holy and clean and all, really. You picked salvation, victory out of the dirt, and when you bring it home, the traces are still there. But victory is in your hands, and even if you reek of fetid meat from the past, admit it, you're still happy."
Fran stared at him intently. The bartender was now walking towards them, again.
"Well, do you really care? Sometimes light needs darkness to balance the way of nature."
Balthier welcomed his drink with pure delight.
Author's note: Omg. Guess who is back with a new chapter. Yes. Me. I know, how long has it been? Two months? Crap. I've been sleeping that long? Anyways, that's not really important. At least here I am now!
I wrote half of this chapter two months ago, yes, but left it sulking in my document until I reread it and thought it was a crap, then decided to rewrite the whole chapter. Yes. Painful. But at least I'm satisfied now. I missed writing this fict. Man, I'm such a lazy dork. Please feel free to stab me with a fork should I become sleepy again.
Also, I know there are more than thirty people alerting this fict, but whooo, less than half reviewed so far. Well, I really want to know your opinions, thoughts, so please tell me what you think; some lines or so, that will make me happy.
To those who have reviewed the last chapter, thank you.
(oh, and Cap'n Pirate Monkey, thanks for mentioning that in your review; I've fixed some lines in chapter one and two, and will put them up as soon as I can. I hope this one is okay, lol. Thanks again.)
I will update as soon as I can, but before that, I want to type a balfran one-shot I have in mind. Lol at me.
And feedbacks are greatly appreciated. See you in the next chapter!