June of Year 1778
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...Car...
CECIL: Am I an intruder? Maybe we are. Fear of the Absolute, I feel it as the movement of a wind blew onto the Northwest needle we follow as a troop. Phalanxs came first, followed by the armored chariots, whose wheels had been turned into legs and tiredness. But who is an intruder when the land we step upon once was ours? Once... that's the word that defines us as such. I know, as an intruder does, how to open a window, as much as the King knows and has the key, the transportation vehicle, to open the Melda Arch for us to travel into their arch, with disguises apart to deceive the Regency of -LINDBLUM-, the one who controls mostly of Aerbs and the engines that move such place, later at the dusk and the following night that came on the days before this month.
...Scratch...
CLYDE: Just the mention of the word -ALEXANDRIA- by commander Komakino is enough to make us, you, me move around in circles and call such act by 'training'. For these days, to hear the same 'Alexandria' be heard by that old fart, whose jaw can't eat anything, except the words he say, had been a pleasure to be enough filled into me and the others. The same are quiet as my brother and these soldiers, strict as the marriage of our country, and taste as well as salt water drank from the ocean itself.
...Melt...
PRESCOTT: It's hard to accept the truth as it is told by them. Pale it becomes for some, but for many, colors are achieved. Colors that bled as one red, the same meant to be sadly find on the tip of our swords and javelins. Was I meant to be there on first place? If I hadn't assigned that paper, sure this time would be well spent by me to take care of the living, the family of mine, the sons who never had to await for me than I and Sophia awaited for such time they arrived, instead of ending up the day awaiting for the reckoning of the lost souls of centuries, trading in to become ghosts raised from the ashes they turned into.
...Security...
BARTHOLOMEW: Lenneth, Jack... why do I care so much for both? Is it because they belong to -BURMECIA- as me? And what about this Alexandria I and my family had been fighting against? Do they also have a reason to fight with dignity against us? What they had done isn't what we do, is it? The same may go for our ancestors, who had done many that resulted into this nothing, about to come near us in a state of Trance... This is a crisis I knew I had to come, to fix such balance once kept broke. I wonder what will come next, besides a change of speed...
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Day 26:
Resonance
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CLYDE: What a pleasant time to feel alive. Sure, the ones who came before me must have thought of the same. I wonder if Komakino ever felt alive. That moribund... Just look at the way he raises the sword up in the air with that dysfunctional and onion arm of his. With a skin alike his arm peeling each day, such is the pride of commander Komakino, and the devotion of something lost in the way more than the life of his. You may ergue the sword when there's us with you, but when you're alone, you slide like a snail, and wished you could die like one.
CECIL: ...The Melda Arch is the passage located at the side of our country northwest of Aerbs Hills, to which we used as a route of peaceful trade and revenue. But in this world, like many, peace is just a word we gave a misunderstood meaning, because there's no exactly way to achieve such. All we achieve is a certain stability, like the price in gil of the products sold by quantity. The more they are sold, more the price increases. It has been this way since ever we stood above the plateaus, unlike them. We trade in gold, gems, as they trade us silk, spice and coffee. The only thing that keeps Burmecia and Alexandria on the same spot is that we're dependant of commercial relationships, and only.
CLYDE: ...You see, Marat took a bath, so why can't Komakino? Whereas we are far from home, a common misunderstanding of our part is that anyone, and anything, can be Alexandria and their intentions as well, like an infection does have the intetion of hurting you.
PRESCOTT: A sailor told me once about citrics. Orange and other citric syrups guarantee the safety of our jaw and gums from scurvy. I hope that Fratley's teeth fallen don't expose much of his gums to such infections. Exposed... for some reason, I recall of the days I stood in Lindblum and the time when I noticed the rain burning my skin. The rain of Burmecia never would do such a thing, but there, at Lindblum, it did. That kingdom is divided into three districts, being the Market District, the Theather District, and the Industrial District. They all sound alike one, but for me, they're the same, like the statues of the past Regents. There's a statue of Cid Fabool VII in the Industrial district, but you can only see it's him by reading what's below, in the words written in gold. From that district, smoke rises up in the air, and wherever it rains, that same rain can burn those who walk there for a long time, there or around other districts. Each time it rained, a frame of the face of Cid vanished, as if the rain had melted his. Now they changed the face of his for a silver helm, as a solution for the issue of the statue, but the issue of the people remained the same. At least, the Regent is safe.
CECIL: These hills are the cenotaph of Lord Aerbs and his sons, that came and ended like their own father. Aerbis and his descendants divided this continent, and its tribes those hills came across. Plateaus for the people Alexandria and the other Alexandria, the mass of Lindblum; and the wet plains below the Mist, were those beings from Burmecia learned to live. The experiment of Dali desired by our King will be done. Not that I desire it's fullfillment, but part of me agree on his orders. The part of being submissive stands out of the part that wants to raise a shout, to eat, to destroy the path I hang on, but not now. This second other shall be released, but not until we reach this Mist and the creatures that lie in there, so they'll never again trespass the plateaus where Alexander stood...
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Day 27:
Fusion
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BARTHOLOMEW: More training... Because I am a male that I am in there. Dragoon Knights and us are worlds apart, thought we are still divided between the organs we had been born with. Male ones are called by -BAHAMUT-, whereas -LEVIATHAN- is the name choosen for the female ones. While Bahamut is the god that belongs to the blue of the sky, Leviathan is the god that keeps swimming in the blue ocean of the Gaia where it was created along the civilization. There are far more women than men at Burmecia, but only one seems to achieve the skies, as the other stands below as the ocean level stands at a constant zero...
PRESCOTT: I once travelled to Aerbs on foot. Unlike Lindblum, there's no easy acess to everyone. Thought, the Summit Station built atop the hills has such nice view, a view for the few, like the time I once saw a rainbow near the Burmecia Gate, when I came back from a stroll when I was in Lindblum. I wished I could bring my family as well, but I don't think they would. By they, I mean the circumstances of us outside the rain. On the station, there's a few of us, and few of what made us into us. The country of Burmecia is obscured by the map that shows the Aerbs as a whole, while Lindblum and Alexandria's, even Treno's maps are showed in a full state of a glory unreached for us, because of them, and mostly us hang on the fault. I wonder if Sophia could agree with me, but even the Chai we drank there is called by Burman coffee. Coffee!? Oh god... That may be just a word, and that's the problem. 'Coffee' is so common, so vulgar, unlike the bittersweetness of the 'Chai' dranked, slowly slurped by the tongue. But that's the way they see us, now I understand it. Our reputation, the reputation of many, and the same aftertaste carried on by centuries, alike the 'Burman coffee'...
CLYDE: Coincidences do not exist for me. Like Komakino does with the sword of his, Lindlbum showed themselves on that 'fateful' day. Yes, I'm thinking about what happened seven years ago. That 1771 that 'changed Gaia forever'. Father, like many, many than now, fought against that Alexandria, this same Alexandria they speak about. Our current King, Edgar, got to sit in the throne of metal for the first time, as an adult, but that only happened after the ships came flying. Whoa... The sky outside Burmecia is blue like the ocean of Leviathan, and so Lindblum found a way to navigate on the domains of Bahamut, with the power of science, they say. Magic? No, science. This is what makes us so far away from others. We learn the basic of this science, their science. 1,2,3... and keep counting in. There's no end for such, like the many wars fought. Who initiated the war, who was the first who engaged a punch, and later got cut by the blade, it doesn't matter. If such science is effective, then why the shape of bells for our houses? They say it's because of tradition, and keep away the spirits... Traditions and science, they don't seem to have a tie.
BARTHOLOMEW: Yes, the war... the last before the 'revolution'. Many were fought, but for what intention? Airships from Lindblum came flying after a year they fought against one another. With the King of Alexandria dead in combat, or so do they say, reason enough was futile to finish some of us. Do they kill because that's their intention? Do we need to kill because it's our intention to avoid the realization of their intention? Who does avoid the achievement of others is inciting some kind of war? If Lindblum pretended to finish the conflict, then why some of we still stood like same?
PRESCOTT: There's no airships for us, only for they, the creators of such. Violence? When I once walked throught the Armory, I saw many javelins. Javelins of copper, javelins of iron, javelins of Mythrill... Spears of an ancient past, that became a remnant of now. Mostly they can't be used, but instead be showed. They stood and still stand like tombstones, covered by the dust gathered over the time. Are those the only relevants pieces of history that remained for Burmecia and it's people to share with the world? That's what I get, and that's what we got, like a mother is told to bring a son to the family.
CLYDE: ...Stupid people can believe in anything, and so you do believe in yourself too! Can you!?
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Day 28:
Selection
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CLYDE: I saw Paul today. To think Paul, the same rat boy who had stolen his father's cigars, had more to offer us. One of these past days, me, my siblings, Bart, Martin, Stuart, and our friend, Paul, were playing marbles outside the front door of our house. When evening came, it was time to say goodbye to Paul. One of his relatives then came to pick him up, for dinner. It wasn't Paul's father, or his older brother. It was a woman, dressed in the same costumes like any mother, but it wasn't his mother, not his aunt. Instead, Paul had an older sister who took care of him.
BARTHOLOMEW: ...I knew she were older than us at the moment Paul spoke her unforgettable name: Elizabeth. Sounded like my grandma's. A girl from chapel, devotee of Bahamut, like her mother. A beautiful one, whose delightful ebony hair as cinnamon waved at us. A lady to be respected, like any lady in this world. She loved children, and we loved her too. When we looked at her, she looked at us. Flatteries aside, when we belauded Liza's voice, at the same time austere as an elder, and sedate as the breathes of a siren, her radiant smile gently opened, the shadow beneath us dissolved like salt in clear water, followed by the mellowly touch of lips on our foreheads, one by one. Such honey lips of a passion-fruit blossom, syrupy than the combs of an entirety of a bee hive, and the slight faint touch of Venus in our shoulders. Damn you once again, Clyde. Althought she kissed us too, you were the first one in line.
PRESCOTT: Sophia... Before I became one with her, she was a devotee of Bahamut. The devotees of Bahamut are a religious group of people founded back in the 14th century. They believe Bahamut has the shape of a giant fish, who inhabits the clouds above Burmecia. These people are said to migrate from outside of Burmecia each month to do a procession at the land of our ancestors, the desert of Vube. There, they stay until seven days passes. And for another seven days, they stay at Burmecia, to purify their souls. They can't touch anyone until they take a bath at the river Kinneas, because that's where mostly the water, fallen by the rain and the mountain, between the fishes and other beings related to water, can be found. We, soldiers, are also devotees of Bahamut in a certain way, except that our souls are purified not by our god, but by history itself, and the flowers they someday will bring to us, and unfortunately, we can't smell such.
BARTHOLOMEW: A week passed, and nothing about Paul's sister could be heard. That day may had passed, and all my thoughts were directed or about about Paul's sister. In my head, I felt her, walking in the landscape of my dreams...
CLYDE: ...Like eels into a net, we followed , we saw her taking a bath. No cloths, no undies. Only the single way of world we followed before and after the birth, and the morals. With the ponytail off, her hair seemed longer, and the bends of her back... Geez, you haven't had enough, had you, Clyde? Thinking about these things is kinda relaxing... Don't get me wrong, Cynthia. First, you aren't here, and second, I was just a childish one. Was?...
BARTHOLOMEW: I don't known what happened to Liza. Maybe she passed away, like grandma, but now that I'm married, those thoughts don't bother me anymore. Because I trust in Lenneth, and she trust in me, and what do I feel for Lenneth is something more than what I felt as a kid for that woman. Something above the flesh. Beauty does fade away on a certain time, like the reality built around us, and I'll stay with Lenneth, even after that day where the reality of our comes into stories to be told by our descendants. I never imagined that her love could make me want to settle down.
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Day 29:
Conception
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PRESCOTT: ...I needed to be cleansed. How itch I was. Such thought never came into my mind. Breathe. Up the ladder, I saw the you once kept hid. Why hid for so long, Sophia? Desire? No, don't think this of me. Apologies for what your eyes seem to get from me. To see everything we build up crumble to dust... how many breaths had we attained in our single lifes? Something so trivial, isn't it? Rain is falling outside. Below the lonicera, when I'm on my own, winter kills. The aching of mine... ain't yours, but you felt it, didn't you? It was a question of time for the calling of the act. Instead of raising the curtains, we let them fall, as we become one, instead of two. There is time to kill, and nothing to lose. Nothing, except this love. This raw love. I died with you, on the instant I felt alive, and clean. The cleanest we've ever been. The cherry, to be scent by a child like me for the first time, soon withered. To find it, to accept of my love, and see it was now gone. I thought it was, but another child as me were born from you, and the love of ours.
CLYDE: After all this sessions of training, holding of this same javelin with a hand and another, all I want is to lick Cynthia's hair. Yes, I wannna. To hold tight those ears, hurl in the lake, end up in the skies, touch the star... Thought, last time I did it so, Danny was born. Kids. How do am I supposed to avoid such? When I saw Danny's face for the first time, it was as if I already saw the same face on his brothers before. He woke up from its sleep, and pulled a face like he sucked a lemon in that morning, heh he... not that I find it funny, but it brings back such memories, nice ones. Well, there is also some bad ones, but I'm kinda forgetful to those. I just forget and keep on going into such life of mine.
BARTHOLOMEW: ...While us, boys, are called Nezumi by the elder, the girls are since they are born called by Nisan; which means 'marriage'. Ever since the birth, they are taught how to become a good wife. Lenneth... I once painted you, I know you remember it. I would never reject you, no I didn't. I never allowed such kind of idea to happen. Thought I wanted, but never I did. So young you were, and still is... Lenneth. Dirtied by my stain, how could I? The narrow way we found to reach each other... How awful, isn't it? Embarassing? Why the smile above me? Where did we kept that noise? So quiet. We're off the rails. Feelings and secrets thought to be lost forever, I think we're going to the nether regions for what our minds are thinking.
PRESCOTT: On a family of many, and given the circumstances of our species, some don't bother choosing a name for the newborn. They just wrap the orange tie on their tails and call then by any name. The fifth son I have was called by 'Fifth Highwind'. Me, Clyde, Cynthia, Bart, this Lenneth... we all should be glad for staying alive for such long time. While mostly of Alexandrians and Lindbluniams and the people of Treno await for nine months for one or two, we awaited for the littles ones to come out of their mothers for three weeks. Less than a month is needed for them to be born, yet not fully developed as humans. I admit, only a few of us are able to survive. So why bother with a name? It may sound cruel, but for many families who lost their children, a single son they once called by 'first' or 'ninth' one mattered, even if he had no name of any person.
CLYDE: ...For all the things I said, or pretended to, I just don't care for their outcome. Worlds of peace tend to bring war too; it's all a matter of probability. The probability of saying something you might or not regret is relative to the percentage you get to known if your son will be born as a male, or a female. There's no way to know aftewards, just believe, like many of us do. I would want a girl, just to see if she'll grown up like her mother, or like me.
PRESCOTT: ...Fratley. That's the name of one of my sons, one of them that I recall by such name. An unique name, who has been created by the junction of two unexpected words. How words came to be words, which orange appeared before, the color or the fruit? I ask for myself these questions, for a world who have already lost it's meaning. This if we weren't allowed to created meanings. Some are strong enough to create their own reality. Others just despise it, like Clyde. We all share of dreams, and a goal in common. All we do want is to get out of here, run away to a shelter where we feel secure.
BARTHOLOMEW: If war or time or diseases can't kill our sons, then so does the nature of ours. So fragile are our babies, compared to the ones born outside of Burmecia. They are more dependable of heat and milk than humans, and when there's not enough of both for an offspring, there's always a woman near to take care of them. A friend of family, a sister of the mother, the mother or the daughter of the new mother, even the nursemaid who helped in the childbirth. Most of the nursemaids are from Cleyra, a nation, or better, a settlement located at Vube. A sandstorm surrounds what was once seem as a giant tree, called by Yggdrasil, since centuries. On these ancient times, there was a civil outbreak at Burmecia, and so a cult dissolved its ties from there, and went to the place of our ancestors, to found this Cleyra of now. Why this all started? We do not know why, we just forget, but it seems those from Cleyra don't. Maybe they forget the reason as well, but what they don't is how we do things there.
CLYDE: Cleyrans... They don't hold a grudge against us, because after I knew then they are all nice people, nicer than we could be someday, or never. We, Burmecians, are exactly the same as the Cleyrans in blood, yet we seem so different in design, and customs, and maybe a god. They don't seem to be known by the outside world, and they just want to remain this way. In the end, if it wasn't for them, many of our children, their children in a way, would have been gone, like Danny, or Jack, or maybe one of Prescott's five ones, or was there a sixty-one?
PRESCOTT: Do they treat us like people, anyway? That's what happens when you stay with Clyde for a long time. I also stood with his and Bart's father. He cared about his sons, and each men under his was alike a son. Or someone to care about alike. Short lifes aside, so when Fifth's two years came, my gift to his was a name, because that gift mattered to me, and us, who recognized of his effort to live. His first name was Frăț, and it sounded kinda cryptic for a boy. It means, is related to 'fraternity'. But we were far more than friends. We shared of the same blood before he opened his eyes, to reveal we also shared of same green. How lively, like a meadow, I thought. Thus, Frăț, followed of the suffixe -ley, became Fratley.
CECIL: Beatrix... I carry on no intentions of leading yours to become a soldier. Those are the intentions and only of Madelene's wish. Before you do became the same as me, you need to learn first from your mother what is to be like her, so you'll be able to understand, by love or hate, what is to be a woman. You'll overcome such state, or not if the will of yours is below the average of the words you are still learning to speak of. No matter how hard you try, you'll remain a woman you had been born into such. Even young, the doll I gave you will tell it, not clearly, but as soon as you grew up, you'll see the truth. Now, my dear Christophe... If they can't steal this pendant of mine, then it means they won't be able to take you within their 'after' cast by the last of the movements of my blade, who wishes their 'after'.
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