♫Yoko Shimonura - Out Of Phase♫
July 18, 1794
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At Burmecia, there are no shooting stars.
If you look at the sky, you can see the clouds and the rain. Rarely, the sky changes its colours to a sepia or a green like pea soup. And, if you are lucky, you can spot gaps where sunlight pass throught. Or, if any luckier, a skyfish. Faster than light, you can pray for him if someone is ill. They are said to be the angels of Bahamut, wheter or not you believe he is a dragon or a sea creature. Leviathan has been tasked to protect the earth, by ruling the seas. It can't be trespassed as heaven does, but men found its way to populate this entire continent, and wonders whether or not there are others. While my home doesn't have any shore for a sea, my people do not only live here. Spread around the world, in search of better opportunities. Mainly job. Many boats were sank and believed to be the work of Leviathan. If there are any rats on board, all their families can do is pray for their safety.
I saw a skyfish the day before mother passed. I couldn't wish for her to live any longer, because a bit of her is already in me. I may not have inherited her money, and I'm not only doing this to make my own. More valuable rewards await for me, even when they do not get any attention. This ain't a circus, despite the acrobatics, the work with the limbs, the way they spin and act while inside that coat. I woke up a while ago, and still I am lying on this bad, wearing nothing for a day that means everything. So, will you remember this day? Will there be another July 18 for you to enjoy? I mean, a Friday 18th like this one? The first day, the beginning of year one. And yet, I'm still lying upon this bed. The only force which's acting on me is gravity, and nostalgia. They drag you like backwater, and sometimes youi are unable to get out.
I need to. Not tired at all, but after this day, I'll have a reason to lay there. Rain washes my window, and I can barely notice a thing from a distance other than the tree, whose leaves and fruits fell down. And we were there to collect any of them... It was better than going at the market, and the lenghts it took were just from that garden to the front door. Still an effort taken for father to me, so do the swing he built a long ago. To swing up and down, down and up again, with someone behind to pull you higher and higher; it ain't there, none of them are. Not even a reason to bring it back again, other than in memories. "Don't leave the swing 'till your speed slow down, or else you'll be thrown at the streets and lay there like poop", so my brother said. He and his head were stupid enough to stay behind once. Or maybe I was reckless for not stoping when I could.
It's hard to say for a kid to stop, because legs do not have ears, and with so many voices heard, one or two had to stand out. Food and its taste do not matter, only that it brings energy. Jack taught me how to eat something I didn't liked by trying not to touch it with the tongue, only with the teeth. With time, I began to like tomatoes and carrots without the need of putting them at the sides of my mouth, as much as I began to wear clothes other than the ones belonging to my brother. For a long time, I inheried all of Jack's stuff deemed as old, except his friends. They are meant to be made, not threatened by fists, but guess that a man's mind since young works in a different way as mine. Needless to say, I also had been the kind who relied on punches and kicks and bites a few times, so why complain?
Clothes mean status, and something more comfy than your own fur to bare the cold outside. Well, try to say again that this outfit and those belts tightened are comfy. This helmet who doesn't even fit your head, so small that it could crush an infant's skull, and maybe that's the reason why mother forbide me of wearing it. Only when I grew a bit more that I was able to bear of its weight, and I mean the broomstick. Only the stick, but to this day, there'll be a sharp tip on it. As if this helmet wasn't already sharp... anyway, only the gaiters left to be wore. This pair of gaiters looks like a pantyhose, made of a very resistent material. I can't even tear it apart with my teeth, or with a knife, so a stone won't do nothing but bring a bit of discomfort. Many perils are awaiting me, to this journey I shall travel in order to...
Just the beginning. The beginning of what, other than my career? To be a Dragoon Knight doesn't mean that much. I mean, speaking of legends, where heroes fight against deity-like beasts, stories reverberating for generations, such as mine. For mine. Well, if I don't like how things are, then what it will be? To betray your own words is something unforgivable. For them to be spoken to justify something that matters and you don't know what it its, because it's a thing higher than you can understand about... is something natural. When a story comes to an end, and everyone smiles as if nothing that happened before will happen again, but it does. Who I am? My name is Freya Crescent. Other than being the daughter of Lenneth Crescent and Bartholomew Brandford, mom and dad respectively, I am a burmecian. A woman who took the place out of the girl of before, though a seed of what I would become was there all the time.
Funny how you await for them to sprout for many reasons. Never that I was tiny enough to want to become tall as an adult, or that I wanted to marry someone because only adults can marry each other. Mother married with father, and duty for a long time, 'til death did them part. She felt proud of what was done in life, while I search for a reason to feel same. To keep smiling when it's all over. It's natural to feel this way, so Learie told me about the jitters she felt before making ammends with Dan. Was it the right choice, the right moment... What would he feel if I said 'no'? Father knew what I felt when he said 'no'. But he said it so, no matter the cries. They would be over, soon as I realized how meaningless it was to keep commiting same mistakes. I haven't done anything, and yet, I feel that I have failed with someone.
The crowd doesn't cheer for a fallen one, and it does nothing for an unknown at its middle. Everyone wears green on a gray land, guards wear cold blue, and Dragoon Knights are strong in every way. Everyone can see their colors, and only a few to hold on of their strenght. Like mom, who trained to become one and succeded, and dad, who did what he liked to. To offer help, no matter how much they paid him. He had a lot of time to be spent, and I could see that he felt well even when he returned on its worse shape, with only a bit of gil on its pocket. Then, one day, he never returned, but a bit of his is on me too. Knock Knock... someone hits the door, reason enough for me to leave this bed at once. Another empty bed; soon there'll be nothing in front of the door. A beautiful and magnificent view of the outside world being washed by the rain.
— How are ye doing, apprentice? – then, Hrist spoils everything soon as she talks.
— Didn't noticed you there – though, I've noticed something. Hrist is dry like a leave coming out of a desert. Drops of water stand on her, instead of falling down as they do – also, you are as much apreentice as I am, Hrist.
— Not as a first-timer – when will she stop to show-off her surface tension abilities? Soon as I begin to do the same, presumably. Or when she gets away from the rain, which she does immediately by stepping into my house – this place looks the same as before. How many times this wall had been washed away?
— Given how much time and pieces of chalks you have wasted on it...
— Wonder how many times have I mistaken your hair for a tree of chalk? – asked Hrist, poking my hair. Pulling the strands falling out of my helmet, then I pulled her hand away. Couldn't pull her mouth out, though – don't know? Neither I.
— Does it really matter?
— Well, guess not – said Hrist, before eating an apple out of the kitchen's basket. Eating with a single bit, followed of pauses, and – it's a thing I can barely remember, out of what I've learned during my training sessions. By the way, did you've paid a visit to Sir Fratley yesterday?
— He wasn't at home – and so I am left to wonder how he looks alike.
— Burmecia is his home – said Hrist, taking an apple out of the basket found upon the kitcken's table. A kind of dead nature sucked in by the tiny fruit flies, brought alive by the touch and disturbance of a grey claw, sharp alike those teeth – CHOMP!... to think he takes such words seriously.
— How does this Sir Fratley looks like?
— Like me, you and father... he is a Dragoon Knight. Except you, he's a skilled one like the rest.
— If having skills on something else other than surface tension...
— Dare to compare me to a mere insect in a puddle, huh? – said Hrist, who had nothing to say, other than a choke which she advisely avoided.
— If you don't moisturize your hair, you'll be bald like one – or before I do.
— Said the cicada who's about to burst inside its thick shell.
— This shell belongs to my mom – I said, to hear nothing coming out of her. From Hrist, I mean. You can't talk while eating, and when you dot not talk, you are left to hear the noises around the table. There is only two of us... me and the rain.
— I know – below those strands, I heard Hrist, who was now sitting backwards on a chair, looking at me and mainly this coat – do you miss her?
— A lot.
— Same. I would like to make a presence that day, but like father said, I was occupied too. I really wanted to be here, and...
— I didn't wanted to be here at the moment, Hrist – when I said it, Hrist turned in to the ceiling.
— Why not? You had the chance to – and when I turned to the ceiling that day, I could see blood.
— I didn't felt well, Hrist. Felt my body heavier than usual, even without this armor I would wear a day after – I couldn't even hear the chews followed of pieces taken out of that apple. Then, we both looked at the window. Outside, it rained as usual – there are things that go, and things that do not.
— The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh – Hrist said, leaving the chair and walking near me – It must be a really sick sense of humour, but that's how it is. You can't change these, but that doesn't meant you can't change your mind.
— What do you mean?
— Here – soon as I asked, Hrist offered me something other than an answer.
— What is this? – it has a nice smell of green tea, for sure. Must be the scent coming out of Hrist's pockets.
— Consider it a last hour gift.
— An armlet?
— It's a luck charm made of Lapis Lazuli gems – radiating of same color as a monarch's robes; I don't know how to wear it, since there is no space left on my neck, and in which arm should I... by chance, I choose the left one.
— Thanks. Where did you've got this, Hrist?
— Don't ask me, 'cause this gift ain't mine alone. Now you must know why I gave Sir Fratley's adress to yours. Since he wasn't at home yesterday, he asked me to bring this charm to you.
— Why Sir Fratley couldn't be here?
— He is occupied as father does with that sea of papers. Lawyers do not care that much for appearance. After all, they rely on words for their best.
— Is he a lawyer too?
— Yeah. In case you get in trouble, you can hire Fratley to do the work. But nothing comes for free, ye know – then Hrist threw away that piece of apple out the window. The garden and grass outside will be feeded by it – Uh... before we go out, I would like to ask you a thing, Crescent.
— And what would it be?
— Well, it ain't personal. I mean, it its, but... could you lend me some of your panties? – for a while, I did nothing but stand still – it may be a strange request, but I know that you have a sparring piece of nightdress hangin' around.
— Nothing comes for free, Hrist.
— A bit of solidarity isn't asking for too much.
— Why don't you ask it for Ezekiel instead of me?
— Oh, this matter is so embarassing to say to father... – and why it isn't for me?
— I thought they all are proud of hearing that the little girl became a woman.
— They do not have to deal with the pain.
— Would you have prefered a fist in your chest, perhaps?
— Hah hah... quit the offensive before I do my own – with your arms crossed, I really doubt you can, Hrist.
— Humour... it brings relief to these kind of stressful situations.
— There is nothing funny about cravings in your chest. They hurt like stones in your kidney and migraines bursting together with stepping upon shards of a broken glass. It's a silent pain. Or, have you left a grunt out of your mouth? You do not want anyone to notice it, and when they do, it gets worse. Treating a lady as if she was a dog with an injured paw, and they keep pushing it...
— Any descriptions left for a pain that can't be described? – as much as freedom can't be shown by the release of arms, or by staring at someone's face.
— Have you ever wanted to take your eyes out with a spoon?
— That's gross.
— Can you give me a piece of cloth now? – well, since Hrist is being so kind with yours...
— When a gift is delivered, the owner expects it'll be clean for a while.
— Except when it comes to tissues. Hey, nice cravat.
— Thanks.
— I saw you wearing a white one yesterday, but this one is blue.
— Mother kept a set of cravats on her drawer.
— It must be a really nice set of cravats. So...
— No – these are supposed to be tied on your neck.
— Shucks... well, I can't convince you to do nothing but walk outside. Come on, Crescent.
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And so I followed Hrist to the door, closed it with the key, and we found ourselves in the streets. Our helmets work as umbrellas, since we do not mind the rain as strangers do. We grew with it, was one of the first things we saw. I see it each day, but I do not feel the same when I discovered it. Something that happened a long ago is meant to be forgotten, except when you really do not want to. To keep insisting for something to happen, and it does like a house out of a few stones. Instead of who I am, I may ask too: What shall I become? A rock remains a rock, until someone takes it with the hand to turn it into a wall. Walls that surrounds houses, and houses within neighborhoods, within cities, within the kingdoms, and the people as well. Only a few are really trying to make what dreams tell in visions happen to become true.
— What a beautiful tree – said Hrist, looking to a cherry tree – it is still beautiful even with its blossoms withered – blossoms that are dragged away by the water to the manholes in the sidewals, or down the street to somewhere else.
— These trees are one of the few reasons why outsiders come to this place.
— And none of them ask for free water – with its head watching the clouds, Hrist opened her mouth and drank a bit of water. This if I can call it by drinking.
— It's because the water that comes from the rain ain't clean enough.
— It's cleaner than the water coming out of the river, in fact – with that said, Hrist and I kept walking, somewhere else.
— I thought we should have been at the Jugend, Hrist.
— Father ain't there at the moment.
— Where is he?
— Father is with Sir Fratley, solving a case at the court. Sometimes, problems can be brought to an end outside papers. Speaking of action, today you may be able to receive your first javelin, Crescent.
— Really?
— I said maybe. Or, would you rely on your claws alone to do the work? – I would, had they been sharp enough, and had I time enough to afford a change of tips.
— The javelin alone doesn't make a Dragoon – I said, and soon we were walking above the bridge. The river and its emporary beauty passed unnoticed, except for our ears.
— I have noticed, with time, that you keep holding things with your left hand, Crescent. Is it one of your family's cachoethes, perhaps?
— Why? It's just a small detail...
— Which doesn't mean that it can't be a crucial one. Know that all spears are made to be holded with the right hand. Some are so heavy that you need both of them, but mainly the right one.
— You say it as if I didn't knew anything about spears yet.
— I'm giving you advices, and that's the way you reply to me.
— Funny...
— What's so funny?
— Mother once told me how she knew father.
— Does this have anything to do with what I've said?
— Kinda of. Since that time, father worked with many jobs, and one of them was being the blacksmith's assistant. When father saw mother for the first time, he had nothing on his hands. And she was a dragoon, with more than a spear in hands. It's like he couldn't convey what to say when near someone of more importance, and mother couldn't convey what she learned on training. Her right arm broke when she felt downstairs as a child, so with time mom learned how to use the left hand, and kept using it even after her right one healed.
— You never broke an arm, Crescent. Not yet...
— Can I continue? – since I heard nothing, but our footsteps... – so, in a world that you are imposed to use your right arm for everything, well... how mother tried. To be a Dragoon meant so much for her, and for father too, who a day later, came with a gift. He made her a light-weighted spear, which could be used for the left-handed. Since that day, mother used that spear, as she began to improve on training and on the streets. Later, they began to knew each other, married, and had two sons. Mother wanted a third, or a fourty, but could only afford me and Jack.
— So... Uh, sorry, but what you said before... didn't made any sense. No matter the weight, all spears are for right-handed. There are no exceptions.
— You can do anything when you're in love.
— And for the sake of loving someone...
— I wonder how this Sir Fratley looks like – I said, looking to his gift in hands. A nice bracelet, which can't only mean something to offer me luck.
— Soon you'll know, and won't be that impressed. He'll make your skin draw more than sweat.
— You are exaggerating, Hrist.
— Am I? Say that to the scars on my back, this if you can count them all.
— By the way – I said, almost ignoring what I heard from Hrist. She have a point, but I don't even have my own – is he handsome?
— Uh? Who asks those questions?
— Nothing is that silly to be questioned – I said, looking to that silly face.
— Yes, but we are speaking about your mentor. You hardly know each other.
— My brother knows him.
— Well, everyone who lives in the countryside knows each other. But this doesn't mean that out of a child poking its nose comes an adult who still pokes its nose – as much as this Hrist do not step on my feet in a literal sense.
— How long have you known Sir Fratley?
— I know him even before I began to train as a Dragoon. He was a nobody, beginning its career, just like you.
— Is there something in me that there isn't on him?
— Despite a lack of noble title, you can't say a man is beautiful, unless...
— So you think Sir Fratley is handsome too?
— A bit, to be fair. But know that I'm not speaking it as a student to tutor.
— Ain't he our mentor as well?
— Tutor, mentor... One teaches, the other listens.
— We are doing the same things.
— Times change. Before, a student and a teacher were separated. Now they walk together as if they were married, except that I've learned how to hold my breath for a long time.
— Instead of holding your words...
— I do not like to be hearing my own voice as well, Crescent. It would drive me mad had I been in a room with only my voice reverberating wall after another. Guess that you also feel the same, don't you?
— I also appreciate a bit of silence, if that's not asking too much.
— Oh, you'll appreciate a plenty of it during training. This if you do not count the grunts coming out of your throath.
— I'm sure that Sir Fratley will be nice with me.
— Will you be nice with him, on other hand? – I didn't knew what to say. But Hrist says a lot in my place – know that he isn't only a punchbag.
— I know.
— He's our mentut.
— What?
— Yeah, mentut... I mixed both 'mentor' and 'tutor' as same words. What do you think?
— Guess it ain't the time to be giving someone nicknames yet.
— Not your time, Crescent.
Not a while ago, Hrist and I went to the court.
Given her father's help, we were allowed to come inside. A place filled in of people, and ugly carpets. No wonder why these statues had their eyes covered, so said Hrist, whispering to me. Barely I could hear what she said next, only take notice of a shy laugh. Even if I listened to what she had to say, I wouldn't find it that funny at all. Despite the colors, a plenty of them compared to outside, this place sheds of a boredom as staring to cobblestone without blinking. I shouldn't had been here, but that's one of Ezekiel's jobs while outside the Jugend. Other than signing papers, he is still on shape to save people, without relying to a spear. Only a partner, standing there in the middle, sustained by a cane and a strong will, speaking with words sharp as the scratch of claws over a flat wood. There are other ways for a Dragoon settle down the end of a battle, as shown by his.
— ...My client here is a victim of one of the cruelest and vilest lies treated as normal by common belief. That a living being is incapacitated, if not, less a being than others due being handicapped. That a society is constituted of those who suffered accidents, and those who made it happen be left in impunity. This woman, unlike the statement of majority, was born with alleged 'accident'. Yet, she can speak very well, and as it was demonstrated to this court prior, my client can perform any activies outside a home where she had been secluded within, due an inability to walk. A pretext that doesn't prevent this lady from doing whatever she wants, for the sake of her children. Now, the defendant's chair may be empty, which's not the case of the sight shared by many. Except from Justice, who doesn't evaluate by looks that someone like my client can't have the right to live, or a duty to live with like everyone else.
With his final speech, Sir Fratley Irontail wins the case. Following the hit of a wooden gavel, claps of hands are heard throught the entire room, including mine. And to think I only heard half of his speech... Meanwhile, as we moved in to the lobby, Zack and his daughter came near Sir Fratley to congratulate his, As for me, I don't know what to say, or what to do. If I should hold on a hand colder than mine, other than being lead by respect. Dragoon Knights are so easy to be found, given the color of their outfit's. Ezekiel wears blue, Hrist borrows purple, mother didn't wanted anyone to know her wounds shed of red underneath, and Sir Fratley wears a green like moss for its outfit, thought it looks more like dry moss, which's a thing you can hardly spot around. Speaking of it, Sir Fraltey didn't seem to have acknowledged of my presence yet, even when I am standing outside the shadows.
_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_
— You were great once again – said Ezekiel, to Sir Fratley.
— Everyone deserves our best effort.
_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_
— How had you been holding up, Fratley? – asked Hrist.
_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_
— With a cane – he said, while holding a hat with a single hand. Flaxen strands fall out of his head, now covered by that brown hat with a fancy feather on its top – well, besides your father, is there someone else at this room?
— It's me – I said. Sir Fratley couldn't see me, for a reason. Maybe I haven't granted my presence yet, so – my name is Freya Crescent.
— Glad to meet you – he said, as we shaked hands. His hand isn't that cold at all.
— And you must be Sir Fratley, right?
— Oh, just call me by Fratley, if you please.
— Fine. Know why am I here?
— Why we are here? That's a question I ask for myself everyday.
_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_/\/\_
— No, that's not it. What I mean...
— Don't feel nervous, Crescent. You are looking like a ham – and Hrist had to find a way to interrupt, if this can be deemed as a sort of conversation. Well, at least I'm trying.
— Does she? – besides asking, I could notice a smirk on Fratley's face – well, one of us may disagree. Right, Freya? Now, tell me how do you look like – he said, with its two hands on the cane, eyes staring at me, yet unable to look anything at all – given your voice, you must be a woman. A very tall one.
— Really? And what else?
— You look unsure, unpatient, and slightly tired – I don't know what's up with this guy, and what made him stand out of an ordinary person.
— Can't you see yourself at the mirror?
— Well, it's really hard to, but I try anyway.
— Freya... – said Ezekiel, looking at me with a bit of dissapointment. Same for Hrist, I guess.
— It's okay. It ain't everyday that you bother to ask someone who can see how they look alike. People only begin to care about a thing when they lose it for real.
— Right. So you are blind? I... I'm sorry.
— Do not feel sorry at all. It ain't worthy, since you didn't knew I couldn't see. This is, like, the first time we met, right? Outside mentions, and voices belonging to another. Now, I would like to speak with Freya, not with the helmet – soon as he said it, I lifted my head up. I heard once that those who have lost a sense develop other senses, beyond what they used to be. A vision can be replaced by audition, smell, touch... these are the ways Fratley knows I am here.
— I hope I haven't left a bad impression...
— First impressions tell more than afterthoughts. You can't judge a book by its cover, but you judge it anyway. What you can't do is judge a book by its cover alone, and keep doing it so as the only kind of reasoning to be put in your head.
— Do you read any books?
— To this day. It depends on the ink, for a better experience.
— You can read a page given the ink words were wrote it? – that's interesting. I never heard about someone who can do it.
— You seem amused, Freya. I wish I could see a smile as something other than being a curve of lips. And, if you could keep it as we progress...
— So, what Hrist said...
— Do you believe in what she said? Truth or not, that's her opinion. What about yours?
— I don't have none, yet. So, you walk with three legs.
— I couldn't bring my spear to court, so I brought this cane instead.
— Can you walk without them? – I asked, given the way Sir Fratley walked there, and here. As if he was about to tumble on air, or its own tail.
— Without falling? – he asked, on a way its own question said yes, in a way. Besides losing the vision, Fratley lost his legs too. But he stands stilL – unless I give up, which's a thing I do not. I truly would be in bad shape, had not been for the Dragoon and its techniques. That's why you are here, right?
— Well, this ain't the right place to do – before I could say something, Hrist came in, after disappearing for a while. I thought the world just became a bit quieter, but it was just that.
— Where had you been, Hrist? – I asked, noticing that, other than harsh breaths coming in and out, Hrist was soaked by drops of rain. She must had been in a hurry to reach here.
— I went to the Jugend with father. Back and forth, since you two haven't followed us, or ever heard our footsteps to begin with. So I came back, wasting energy that should had been wasted on combat.
— Don't you mean training?
— Training or not, it'll be for real this time, Crescent – said Hrist, with a heart on the mouth, which ain't the best place to keep it – well, father left to the Jugend. So do we, I expect – and so Hrist left and stood at the front door, crossing arms and concentrating in order to control the surface tension ability as before.
— She is the kind who doesn't like to take a backseat to anyone – said Fratley, after hearing the noise coming out of the door.
— I know Hrist as well as you do, even before she began to speak – with something other than her feet, I mean – also, thanks for the gift.
— You're welcome.
— I wonder why you made this bracelet. I mean, of course I liked it, not that my taste in regards to it was the intention at first place, but-
— Lapis lazuli gems are said to bring good luck – I heard Sir Fratley, near a window. It's a day of white clouds, but for him, there is only darkness – they are easier to be found than four-leafed clovers or horseshoes without being kicked. Aside from that, not everything is arbitrary, since our lifes can't be lead astray, as much as our choices can't be decided only by the flip of a coin. But where there is luck, there's hope, and I wish both for you, Crescent.
Sir Fratley Irontail... I wish I could have knew him before. It's not everyday that you meet a nice person to talk with. He ain't that rigid at all, but guess that everything changes while on training, like Hrist did.
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