tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74636126044783607072024-02-20T19:20:14.962-08:00Continue Calming the Angry PlanetJosephine's Destinationpbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-28494721060747283332008-02-03T09:03:00.001-08:002008-12-10T09:23:30.595-08:00Full Body Immersion<span style="font-size:130%;">The water of the tarn was surprisingly comfortable for an autumn evening. Far from feeling a chilling shock, my first reaction was relief that I could finally wash away the embarrassing reek of vomit. What an impression I must have made on the Cyans! Even Vincent didn't want me near.<br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Seems I would never get over a real physical fear of heights, no matter how safe the Glow made me. As the cleansing waters covered my head, I thought: It would be a very good idea to experiment wi</span><span style="font-size:130%;">th dropping from various levels of buildings or trees.<br /><br />A new theory was beginning to form: once I felt any fear of injury or death, the Glow would light, cushioning the fall. Just not back</span><span style="font-size:130%;">wards--even today I still remember the painful surprise after bouncing up from jumping into the Lifestream.<br /><br />Falling face down, I was protected. Falling back, I was not. Were visual clues necessary, or did I simply need some practice? How would I get it, except by accident? Landing backwards just hurt too much to allow for any deliberate experimentation. Besides, one wrong theory taken a tad too far could kill the test subject--me. Furthermore, the Glow did not simply ignite when I wished; it had to be triggered by danger or anxiety.<br /><br />Okay, I admit it: that was a lot of thinking for someone w</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ho was chucked into a pond in the middle of the night. My mind often races in some pretty odd situations. So many unique thoughts occur to me in stressful or strange circumstances, I have to send myself messages on the PHS afterwards, just to keep track of new ideas when I'm out and about.<br /><br />The water got colder as I sank. The tarn was probably fed by an underground spring, so I began to kick my feet; there would be no</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> bottom. My eyes opened as soon as I began to rise again. The moon played on the surface, yet penetrated even to where I was paddling upwards, on my way to breathe. Bright, sparkling moonbeams filtered through crystal clear water, making the experience seem almost mystical! Those green hills remained untainted by the filthy reach of Shinra, Incorporated, even though they were not far from the reactor-polluted oce</span><span style="font-size:130%;">an off Junon. The unsullied water in the wooded </span><span style="font-size:130%;">valley welcomed me as surely as if it were my native habitat. Only my clothes prevented me from feeling completely one with my environment.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Barely a moment before, when Vincent had tossed me into the water, I could hear the usual sounds rushing past and filling my ears. The sensation on my skin was something like a wet version of crawling into a cool, clean bed, freshly dressed in silken linens. Full-body immersion has always been a delight for me, especially in wilderness waters. I can become one with a pond, river or especially the sea, allowing it to overwhelm me. A skinny-dip in the ocean is an all-encompassing experience for my senses, especially through sound, what with the crashing waves resonating both above and below the water.<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyzbTOlyCnHjIDMWaTfr9JXknTytiU3Ra0tmZH5nF1YgepG3sxaeBxbHId_sSmPK9CqSxGoflAshLWwPs1rg2eYW32RtxYhNNjrsBefTUGHmwL4qTeokbTSyyUTPnjYfJeknmdJYInGY/s1600-h/joseys+moon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163225220627130354" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyzbTOlyCnHjIDMWaTfr9JXknTytiU3Ra0tmZH5nF1YgepG3sxaeBxbHId_sSmPK9CqSxGoflAshLWwPs1rg2eYW32RtxYhNNjrsBefTUGHmwL4qTeokbTSyyUTPnjYfJeknmdJYInGY/s320/joseys+moon.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">That night I allowed the pond to swallow me whole, leaving me completely surrounded by fluid, bubbly noises. They came from all directions, and could be felt as well as heard. I slowly worked my way back to the surface, enjoying them as I ascended.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">My idyll was interrupted well before I broke the surface. I ran out of breath, and panicked.<br /><br />From that moment, the air seemed unreachable, and I scissor-kicked my legs in tiny, frantic movements, with one hand pointed to the moon and the other clamped firmly over my mouth and nose. I watched and felt as the Glow enveloped my body. At once, the entire pond became my sounding board, amplifying and transmitting every little creature motion, ping or splatter back to me.<br /><br />All underwater noise registers as musical notes to my ear, even if the melody is somewhat atonal. That night, however, the music was very gentle, a subdued version of the usual daytime concert of busy underwater activity. All so very natural; at that moment not even air-hunger prevented </span><span style="font-size:130%;">me from marveling at my liquid environment.<br /><br />So even though I knew that Vincent’s toss could not have dropped me very deep, it seemed an eternity before I broke the top of the water, my newly-ignited aura and all. Once I surfaced, the world returned to normal, and I listened to the water rush off and splash all around me, as Vincent’s harsh whisper--not at all musical!--came to me over the night air. I ignored him for the moment and dove back under, eager to further explore my newfound element.<br /><br />When I returned below the surface, the Glow changed even the dive, and I was surrounded in a bubble of air that matched my shape. The water was buffered a good inch or so away from my skin. If any passed through the field, it came in microscopically, like fog or mist. It was breathabl</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e; the wetness did not choke me. At the moment I was intrigued, but not brave enough to inhale in large gulps.<br /><br />My defensive, semi-osmotic barrier was holding back the pond, radiating just a little in all directions. From the looks of it, I was protecting a small circle of water. Why not the whole spring? Or why any of it, for that matter? I rose to breathe and immediately dove to just directly below the top of the water, and found that again, a very small skin of air came along, forming a sort of coating around me. Opening my mouth just a tiny bit more, with my tongue back against my throat, I could feel that air, and took in a mouthful.<br /><br />Just like inhaling a dense fog, the breath was both water and air. I could taste the moisture on my tongue, and again shut my mouth against it. Nevertheless, it felt as if that damp air was in my nose when I resurfaced, in contrast to the dusty, autumnal atmosphere of the little valley.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Theoretically, if the Glow lit before I hit the water, then my body wouldn't even get wet. I made a mental note: when safe, dry--and calm!--it would be instructive to try this at home. But where? In Nibelheim, nobody indulged in swimming anywhere, not even at the nearby seashore. What's more, whenever I felt safe and calm, the Glow wouldn’t ignite!<br /><br />That was enough speculation for the night: it was time to return to reality, so I frog-kicked towards Vincent.<br /><br />“Josephine, what in the name of Holy are you doing?” He wasn’t shouting, but there was that tight, metallic edge to his question. Not really a whisper, but not spoken normally, either.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Vincent was visibly irritated until I answered, dismissing his tone with a wet wave of my hand, splashing in his direction.<br /><br />“Just checking the possibilities of the Glow. What’s wrong?” I swam up to him, whereupon he took my arm and lifted me straight up out of the water and onto the bank, in one almost effortless move. We were left facing each other, he a warm, dark form almost hidden in the night, and me soaking wet, the water beads reflecting the moonlight as the Glow faded. Vincent was already pulling my top over my head before he responded.<br /><br />“Nothing, now. What did you discover?” He dropped the wet shirt in the grass and began to fiddle with my jeans, trying to yank them down off my hips.<br /><br />“Vincent! I think there may be a way to manipulate the Glow. Underwater, it keeps a little layer of air around me; it may be breathable. My own private diving bell. I have to make a note to myself to investigate it further. Where’s my phone?”<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">And at that moment, I did not have any personal devise at hand. It was in my kit, back on the corral fence, along with my change of clothes. We’d had just stripped the sopping stuff when I decided to retrieve the PHS.<br /><br />It would be necessary to sneak naked in the dark to get them. What if I roused the chocobos and they alerted the Cyans? They would find me wearing nothing, not even my Damascene band. As unfair as it was, I was peeved at Vincent for putting me in such a touchy situation. What was he thinking? Any noise at all could awaken the high-strung birds. Naturally, even the dry grass crackled loudly under my bare feet, as I tried to move silently along the shore.<br /><br />"Josephine. Where are you going?" His harsh whisper actually sounded disappointed, or maybe just impatient with me.<br /><br />"To the corral. The wet clothes can hang on the fence. Beside</span><span style="font-size:130%;">s, my dry things are in the kit, with my PHS."<br /><br />"Ahh, always thinking ahead. Fine, but please hurry back. Here, catch! Wear my pullover. Just leave the other clothes there, too. We won't need them for a while." His shirt caught the back of my head, and I fumbled with it to find the openings. From the darkness behind me came the sound of feet being forcibly yanked from shoons, the heavily armored boots Vincent always wore on the road.<br /><br />Weehee! I chortled under my breath, grinning to myself as I wiggled into the shirt. All was forgiven in that instant. I crept as quietly as possible into the corral, arranged the wet things over the split-rail fence and then hurried back to the tarn, feeling my way along the bank. The phone, and all my fancy speculation was forgotten.<br /><br />"</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZmUDRZ-8eSbmix0W6VgjxuQFRm-gj_JtE0aPTcBytLx8SMgAr-yiT1LMtaAX9euwRguKoMzdkkV5BoO18GDjeqRa7JGO05Xp8eX1XetCZF1SN5cFmYTgZMM_UVI_qoCeyEEmXQuIGqxw/s1600-h/moonlit+tarn.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163225216332163042" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZmUDRZ-8eSbmix0W6VgjxuQFRm-gj_JtE0aPTcBytLx8SMgAr-yiT1LMtaAX9euwRguKoMzdkkV5BoO18GDjeqRa7JGO05Xp8eX1XetCZF1SN5cFmYTgZMM_UVI_qoCeyEEmXQuIGqxw/s320/moonlit+tarn.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Over here, Josephine. Watch for the armor." No problem: it gave off a dull glow in the moonlight. I wandered closer, but was still unable to pick out my playmate.<br /><br />Then his heavy broadcloth cape enveloped me</span><span style="font-size:130%;">. I was lifted off my feet and lowered to the earth, where I could feel something cushioning me from the grass and gravel. After a few seconds I realized that Vincent had set out his trousers to use as a bedroll. The black pullover soon joined them, and we rolled around, quietly chuckling and kissing at the same time, our subdued hilarity muffled by the voluminous military cape that easily covered us both.<br /><br />My lover then set about warming my damp skin. He vigorously rubbed my hands and feet, before paying similar attention to my arms and legs and, lastly, my body’s core. Eventually, I returned the favor, even though Vincent decidedly did not need it. After a while we no longer wanted to find ways to warm ourselves; the fire deep inside me matched his. It became more to the point not to betray our activity with our merry-making noises: his teasing purrs and murmuring, along with, of course, my intermittent cooing and giggling. In no time we lost any awareness of the ranch or our woodsy surroundings, conscious only of one another’s pleasure.<br /><br />Our separation made the reunion celebration at once a little fiercer, rougher and more satisfying. We became one body moving about under a woolen mantle, oblivious to the cool night air and surrounding trees. Not even the bright, full moon sparkling off the rippled water could distract us, while we found comfort and enjoyment in the dark grasses on the edge of the forest.<br /><br />Nothing more was said all night. We didn't need to rehash past hurts and domestic troubles. We were always able, even from the beginning of our relationship, to excel in this one shared activity: physical intimacy came easily to my man of few words and seemingly less emotion. As for me, it was often like a game of cuddles and tickles, one we played in many ways, each variation spurring us to try to create new pleasure for one another. Words were no longer a part of our repertory; we were all action, sometimes gentle and slow, other times rough and ready for anything.<br /><br />That night, high in the hills outside Junon, Vincent enjoyed me, with kisses and caresses from my ears down to my toes, and I him, purring and nuzzling and burying my face in his long silky hair, until the moon moved from behind the corral. It paused a while over our lusty abandon by the tarn, then finally dipped behind the hilltops. At last, satisfied that our reunion was properly consummated, we snuggled until we slept, luxuriating in the cool night air and the sounds of the surrounding woodland.<br /><br />It was good to be a couple again.</span></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-82454901241096226792008-02-02T12:39:00.000-08:002010-03-01T05:25:48.450-08:00The Morning After/The Day Before<div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Josephine, get up and dress yourself. The Cyans invited us to eat breakfast with them.” </span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><div style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Vincent stood above me, fully clothed except for his mantle. His long hair hung over me, shiny in the sunlight, and he reached down to help me to my feet. I was tempted to drag him down to my level for one more romp in the dew-softened grass, but he looked too serious for fun. Once on my feet, I buried my face in his shoulder, just to steady myself and to buy a little more time alone with him. If not for his presence, waking on the ground would have been a painfully disorienting experience.<br /><br /></div><div style="font-family:verdana;"></div>After a bit, I remembered our morning's plan, and looked up into his face.<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Is it time to search for the missing birds?” My eyes couldn't focus in the bright glare of the low-hanging sun. The tarn was perfectly situated to receive the day's first rays; our cozy clearing was already nicely warm and dry, even though the long shadows of surrounding trees suggested a very early hour still.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="FONT-FAMILY: verdana"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Josephine, we have already rounded up the last of the stolen chocobos. They were grazing not very far from here, and are now safely corralled. The Cyans returned to their cottage and are preparing our meal.”<br /><br />I backed away and looked around, clutching the cape closer to me. “Mother of Pearl! All those people buzzing about, with me lying here in the altogether?”<br /><br />He reached over and teasingly tugged on the fabric.<br /><br />“Covered in my mantle, yes. All your wet or soiled clothes have been laundered, and are hanging on the fence. You slept very hard, as usual, little one. Perhaps it was not a good idea to dunk you in the pond last night. Are you well?” The early sun played on his face, making him appear timeless, a golden angel under a mass of black tangles, and turning his eyes into deep, glittering rubies. It would have been charming, were it not for his mournful expression. My reaction was automatic.<br /><br />“Pffffttt! Stop already. We had a lovely time. At least, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">I</span> did, and I slept very well because of it. Give the guilt thing a rest, will you?" I meant to flash a smile at him through the sunbeams, but instead it turned into a huge, dragged-out yawn. I felt sheepish</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> and</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> covered</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> my mouth</span><span style="font-size:130%;">. Vincent waited, watching with an indulgent smirk. Another, briefer yawn, and I tried again.<br /><br />“Can’t believe I slept through it all. Any reason you didn’t wake me?” Vincent shrugged, then tilted his head toward me, and spoke <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">sotto voce</span>, as if divulging a secret.<br /><br />“You <em>couldn’t</em> come with us; Mrs. Cyan had already collected your things for the wash. She didn't seem to take into account that you might need them. We left you to sleep under the watchful eye of their wrangler, with orders not to wake you.”<br /><br />I glanced towards the corral, where my clothes hung on the sunlit fence. Behind them, a man in a wide-brimmed hat was running a large flock around the track, slowly rotating on one heel, chocobo-fashion, as he followed their progress.<br /><br />There were birds of every color, most usually only seen at the Gold Saucer's Chocobo Square. Last year, in all those months of breeding, racing and culling birds, we were never able to produce any of the pretty pink, orange and lavender shades that were well represented on the Cyan’s ranch. In the end, we concluded that our pursuit of the legendary Gold Chocobo was limiting the outcome to only yellow, blue, green, and black. While Golds are excellent racers, the other colors are always in huge demand for their amenable temperaments and iridescent, almost other-wordly beauty. Theoretically, a Gold is worth a fortune (it certainly costs that to breed for it), but the prettier birds regularly bring in handsome prices, especially among the wealthy elite, who order theirs in custom colors.<br /><br />Amidst the rainbow riot, I could still pick out my Gold and their Black, closest to the fence. Ignoring the exercises, Glitter and Jet were striking up what seemed to be a sort of friendly rivalry, warking loudly and poking playfully at one anothers' neck.<br /><br />“Maybe he should keep an eye on those two birds. We are not fully ready to breed Glitter, though I doubt he shares our views. There’s a really wonderful Yellow that caught my eye last year, instead, outside Corelle. She’s the one I hope to mate with him.” My dark knight frowned at that.<br /><br />“You would object to his union with Jet, when you haven’t yet captured the other? Remember, that Yellow would be better mated to a Black, and even then we would still need the proper Zeio nut, to hope for a Gold.<br /><br />"At any rate, Josephine, the Cyans are waiting for us, maybe even delaying their own breakfast. I will collect your clothes, if you prefer.”<br /><br />“Um, I really don't want to dress out here. What about the wrangler?”<br /><br />“Ah, Josephine. Always thinking ahead, or maybe always thinking about sex? The Cyans tell me the wrangler has shown a great deal more interest in me than you. Perhaps you can change his mind.” He opened the mantle, while I tried ineffectually to stop him. He smirked at my efforts to protect my modesty from strangers.<br /><br />Including ones who weren’t in the market, so to speak. I gave up and spread my hands, sighing.<br /><br />“Seriously, if that’s the case, then I doubt it. He’s a little young for me, anyway.”<br /><br />“I’ve heard that before, and I’m still here.” He mocked my usual comeback, and watched intently to see if I might react. Rather than give him the satisfaction of watching me rise to the bait, I slipped my arms around his waist and warmed myself against his body. Vincent was never chilled, even when everyone around him was shivering.<br /><br />After a short cuddling session that restored my core heat (and then some), we walked together to the corral to gather the clothes. The wrangler was a tall, solid fellow who first waved to us, then began to lead the chocobos into the stables. Several remained behind, including our stars from the night before. As we approached, my Glitter warked sweetly at his newfound friend, not even giving me the time of day. I collected my clothes, drawing them inside the mantle as quickly as I could without exposing myself unnecessarily.<br /><br />Almost immediately, the young man exited the stable and approached us with his hat in one hand and the other outstretched.<br /><br />“Are you friends of Sebastian?” He was brightly handsome, with curly hair just about the same color as mine, only sandier, somewhat blonder in the sunlight. That brought to mind Lady Shinju Kameko’s memories of the early Shinra raids. “A lot of people died, but many survived.” We never heard from the survivors around Junon; I wondered if he were some distant relative. We shook his hand, and Vincent began introductions.<br /><br />“Josephine Lindorm and Vincent Valentine. Yes, we know him well. Young Cyan is also our comrade in the militia.” The wrangler beamed.<br /><br />“Rocky Brantford. Sebastian and I worked together here. We could use him again. The Cyans called right after the rustlers’ first raid, but it takes a few hours to come in from the other side of Junon. My home's on the southwestern shore, not far from Fort Condor. We’ll have to see if we can find some local help to guard the stock." He paused a moment, looking thoughtful, then recollected himself and indicated the main buildings.<br /><br />“Please, come. Let‘s go inside. I‘m famished.” He held the door to the A-frame, and for the first time since I came upon the ranch in the dell, I saw the inside of the cottage. Rather than the bore of a rifle, we were welcomed by the smell of homemade muffins, and liqueur-laced coffee. It immediately felt like home, or more to the point, my mother's kitchen.<br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); FONT-WEIGHT: boldfont-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" >Breakfast with Aika and Duane</span><br /><br />Rocky quickly rinsed his hands, then threw himself into a chair with a contented sigh, while reaching for a muffin. Yes: all three simultaneously, accomplished in a way that indicated it was his normal introduction to the breakfast board. Vincent followed suit in silence, watching me with a quizzical expression. I snorted and tried to put my discomfiture into words, addressing the lady of the kitchen.<br /><br />“You'll have to excuse my sloth, Mrs. Cyan. This lovely valley is warm and peaceful--perfect for sleeping on a sunny morning.” I wanted to apologize for my disarray, in hopes of dressing in a private room. I was cut short by the lady, with a quick wave of the towel she was using to wipe a pan. She was all blue eyes and bright blonde hair and cheerful, busy mannerisms.<br /><br />“Aika! Call me Aika, please. And Cyan's dad, here, is Duane. We are friends, now, aren’t we, I hope? Anyway, you will probably want to change into your things, now that they are clean and dry.” I could only nod a little bit before she swept me back to some spiral stairs. She then shooed me up with her hands, as if I were a chocobo chick. “Go on, now. Get clean and comfortable. We’ll keep the coffee hot and the muffins warm.”<br /><br />The room was spare and pleasant, with a big bed completely smothered in a huge, puffy comforter. It looked heavenly after a night out on the edge of the woods. I didn’t dare sit on it, fearing it would put me back to sleep, and instead looked for a chair. As it was, the only other features of the room were a window looking out over the tarn and a doorway to an adjacent bathroom. I turned the tap and stared wistfully as the tub filled with warm water. A long, hot bath was offered the night before, but Vincent had proposed something better. At the moment I settled for a quick rinse before I dressed, still wishing for an hour's soak. Then, I dried and began to dress myself, seated on the edge of the tub. Freshly laundered jeans soon hugged my hips, while I dried my hair.<br /><br />The cleanliness felt heavenly and I luxuriated in the warm towel. One might almost hear me purring! Could never get enough of washing in hot water and soap; on the road it was a very rare treat and sorely missed.<br /><br />Good thing my hair was still relatively short. Shaking was all that was necessary to separate the strands into some sort of respectable, attractive disorder. I ran my fingers through it to pull out any snarls. Soon it would be time to chop it all off again, maybe in Midgar.<br /><br />Then again, maybe not. Vincent played with the locks around my face each time he wanted to initiate a kiss, or rather, some serious kissing. It had become a sort of make-out signal. One mustn’t do away with erotic cues. Still, a cutter, if I could find one, could keep the shagginess out of my eyes.<br /><br />I wondered if such civilized niceties had been restored in the city. Surely people would want to return to their routines and jobs. Mega-corporations do not run the necessary minutiae of daily life; individual people and their talents do. Even if the Shinra-based economy did not survive, real gil, especially hard, golden cash would always be good. Besides, simple manpower--menial work--was always available for barter.<br /><br /></span></div><div style="FONT-FAMILY: verdana"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div face="verdana"><span style="font-size:130%;">What work would trade for a haircut? For the moment it would not be necessary to provide physical labor in trade, not that I would ever shy from it. Between the two of us, Vincent and I were worth several million. The various Nibelheim enterprises insured that we could expect that to increase as the Planet economy stabilized.<br /><br />My reverie was interrupted by Vincent’s harsh rasp.<br /><br />“Josephine, <em>are you bathing yet another time</em>?” I craned my neck so quickly that it cracked. He was standing right at my shoulder, a huge imp in red and black, leering at my bare back. Then he actually chuckled, deep in his throat; the jerk was teasing me! I coyly, but candidly, let him have it.<br /><br />“You scare me like that again, and I’ll not only need another bath, but Aika will have to re-wash my jeans. You should signal when you intend to suddenly appear. Maybe a whisper, or low whistle or something.” He shook his head, unconvinced but amused.<br /><br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“And miss the opportunity to see my wife’s lovely eyes wide and astonished? I don’t think so. Your every movement fascinates me, even (or perhaps especially) from behind, all the more so when you play with your hair.” He faced me, his eyes betraying fond tenderness even beyond his words. I shook my hair at him.<br /><br />“Not playing, Vincent. I should at least comb it, but there’s nothing in my kit for personal care.” He looked mildly surprised, then resolute.<br /><br />“You should have your toiletries. All ladies must. We can purchase some on our way back, in Junon.” At that, I spoke right up; it seemed clear to me that he was ready to preempt any plans I might have to reunite with family.<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />“Thanks, but not just yet. <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">My</span> family is the next stop. I intend to visit my parents’ house first, and then hunt down my daughters. It’s been over six months since they disappeared.” My heart contracted hard, just once, but painfully, as I spoke.<br /><br />“Since <em>you</em> disappeared, Josephine.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. You could probably approach them now without undue repercussion. That is, unless your father intends to continue to hold a grudge against you for joining Avalanche.” That hit home. The room around us seemed less bright, even in the morning sunshine. My father was another one to greet us with weapons at the door, refusing entry, unforgiving. I sighed.<br /><br />“One can only hope. In any event, Vincent, I need to try to reopen those lines. We’ve lost enough family as it is. It is time to recoup.” He nodded, as convinced as I that this was something necessary.<br /><br />“Then we will separate?" He frowned and thought a moment. "No, perhaps it's not necessary. Our family in Nibelheim will be very unhappy if I return without you, even if I tell them it’s temporary. Can’t we work out a compromise?” He sounded as though he were practically pleading.<br /><br />Of course, Vincent would never beg, except very ceremoniously, all form and little intent. Still, my curiosity was piqued by his manner. He seemed iffy, even a little agitated, unwilling to let me go alone.<br /><br />“What do you have in mind? You know it would be counter-productive to bring you to my parents’ house. One thing at a time, Vincent. First we need to see if they can accept me.”<br /><br />He interrupted, very impatient, almost exploding. “Accept <em>you</em>? The fools!” I stroked his hair and face, as if he were a little boy. Then I tried again to reason with him, my mind racing, to find some sort of opening.<br /><br />“Please, let’s be patient. If they remain adamant, then well, it will be their loss. But, Vincent, I want my parents back. Let me do this first. Alone.” He studied my face, slowly shaking his head.<br /><br />“I don’t want you hurt again. Do you hope to reunite with your ex?” His mention of my first husband surprised me. He had always dismissed the man, without ever knowing him personally. We never discussed him.<br /><br />“No. That’s done. Kaput. Over.” No lie; no doubt my ex-husband had his hands full with a new baby. The new wife was a relatively unknown factor for me. I had occasionally encountered her before I disappeared, but without much personal interaction. She always seemed pleasant enough to me, often hovering about when I stopped in to visit my husband's workplace. My mind had classified her as his office-wife; after all, he spent eight to ten hours a day with her. She saw to all his needs during the work-shift, and he was mine in the evenings.<br /><br />Vincent, for his part, was beginning to relax, visibly regaining his earlier good humor.<br /><br />“Excellent. As long as your reunions do not include him, I will bring Glitter to ChocoBill’s Ranch, at Billy's request. One of their birds is indeed ready for mating with him. One of our birds, that is.<br /><br />"You can begin your search without me, and I will join you as soon as possible. We can reconnoiter while you visit your girls. They may be open-minded enough to reconcile with us both, I hope. You should remain connected after that; there's no reason they can’t come to Nibelheim. We've plenty of work in both the militia and the ranch. And, Josephine,perhaps we will have some more dragon ladies?”<br /></span></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />I had to smile at that; it was exactly what I hoped, too. He walked out the door to the stairwell railing, then turned and held out his hand, dangling my travel shirt.<br /><br />“Come. We mustn’t let the Cyans think we are having a private party up here. At least not yet. Not before breakfast.”<br /><br />“Agreed. Besides, I’m starving. Everything smells so good from up here! Do I detect scrambled eggs? Geez, I hope not! Eat unborn chocobo chicks? Not me!”<br /><br />“I doubt it, Josephine. They are far too valuable. More likely from the nests of local lizards or wild ground fowl.” He flipped my top at me. I caught it in midair and began to pull it over my damp hair. Then Vincent was back at my side, helping me smooth it down over my torso. After a little bit, I stopped his hands, trying to stifle a nervous giggle.</span></p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">“Nope. Don’t get me going again, buddy. My wet hair is making me chilly, </span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">and your hands are toasty warm</span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">. Time for breakfast, not love-play.”</span> <div face="verdana"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Never thought I’d see the day when I would say something like that.<br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0); FONT-WEIGHT: boldfont-family:verdana;" >The Cyans' Story</span><br /><br />Once back to the ground level, the aroma of fresh-made breakfast sharpened my appetite. Muffins and coffee, especially coffee laced with liqueur, were my signals to eat ravenously; who could know when I would dine again with friends?<br /><br />There were indeed eggs and salted meat. Duane and Rocky hunted the local game fowl for relaxation. They initiated plans for a new foray even as they described the various dishes to us. Duane was somewhat taciturn, occasionally interjecting short bursts of information whenever he saw fit. Rocky carried the bulk of the conversation with the Missus and us.<br /><br />"The local populations of water fowl and small animals have already begun to recover from the pollution. Or maybe they simply adapted. Anyway, there are plenty for the taking, and they are easily hunted.<br /><br />"We can no longer fish for breakfast kippers; the seashore is still tainted. Duane and I go for the small game and larger ground birds and we salt their meat, instead. To me, there is practically an overabundance of variety for the morning, but he tells me there was much, much more in his youth." That was the signal for the older man to talk.<br /><br />"Breakfast used to be one hell of a meal when I was a young hand." Duane smiled as he remembered the old days. "My mum used to cook enough for an army, and we'd stuff ourselves full, before we dispersed either to work the ranch or hunt the woods. Aika's family also worked the land, and her cooking is about all that has sustained me through the years." Then he stopped talking and tucked his arm around his wife, nodding to her to finish the story. She began her recital.<br /><br />"When Shinra decided to build Junon into the fortress it now is, their armies and workers pretty much cleared the entire area of building materials and wildlife. After a short while the majority of ranches fell before the needs of the Corporation. Why, for a couple of seasons, the local game species were considered delicacies back in Midgar. These very woods became death traps for civilians; professionals were scouring them for ground fowl and small edible animals.<br /><br />"Nothing was safe, as they stripped the area bare, leaving only the forests that grew on the hillsides. The flatlands were easy pickings and soon became treeless prairie, like you see nowadays. It didn't matter much to the other ranchers, as one by one they closed. Shinra was putting us out of business with their cars, trucks and motorbikes. We specialized in racing chocobos, and that saved our livelihoods.<br /><br />"Duane and I have kept in contact with ChocoBill's, east of Midgar, although lately even that is intermittent. With the fall of Shinra, communication has become spotty. And remember, the Weapons tore a huge gap in the Network when they attacked Junon and Midgar."<br /><br />She turned towards the western window. "We lost workers in the local battle. Some of our people were reserve soldiers, the weekend warriors who were called in for Rufus Shinra's stay, just before Sapphire Weapon showed itself. So many died! One good thing it did, though; there were going to be executions when it hit, and they didn't happen."<br /><br />"Tell me about it, already. Darned Weapon saved my life. Junon is not my favorite town."<br /><br />Rocky spoke up, his eyes wide. "Ms. Lindorm? You're <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">that</span> Lindorm?"<br /><br />"Geez, call me Fini or Josey or anything else." The shock of being addressed so formally was like a flash of old age going right through me. The honorific "Commander" was okay because it served a purpose, but Missus or Miz was just too much. The young man was now nodding, a little sheepish.<br /><br />"Damn, lady. Never made the connection. We thought those Avalanche members were goners."<br /><br />"Well, kid, it's going to take more than Shinra: much, much more. Actually, between Weapon and a local elite Soldier named Jim Ryu, I was able to escape and rejoin my companions."<br /><br />It seemed necessary to mention Vincent's part, so I reached my arm over to his, for emphasis. "My own personal hero arrived, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">deus ex machina</span>, in time to lift me out of the base onto an airship. Aika and Duane have already seen his unusual aerial skills. Let's hope we won't need any more specialized battle abilities again soon."<br /><br />Everyone said, "Amen!" and we fell on our bountiful breakfast with gusto.<br /><br />It would seem that soldiers and ranchers have a lot in common. No white rolls and milk for us. A person can't march on an empty stomach, neither can anyone raise racing birds on biscuits. The eggs were light and fluffy and filled with cheese, and the meat complemented them well. It had the added effect of requiring sufficient liquids to counteract the saltiness, and we dove again into our alcohol-laced coffee.<br /><br />Make mine chocolate. Always chocolate. Besides, the scent mixes well with the amaretto or whiskeys favored by most of the men in my life. Between the hot beverages and the warm muffins, we were soon feeling mellow and chatty.<br /><br />Rocky discussed the upcoming mating of Glitter with the Black from ChocoBill's. He was especially interested in acquiring the Zeio nuts that provided the proper nutrient for increasing the possibility of breeding a Gold. Duane also voiced a desire to trade for them. In no time, they had made arrangements for Vincent to set up a deal with Billy. Around that time I lost interest in the conversation and turned to Aika. For her part, she had already returned to her kitchen work and motioned me to help her with the dishes.<br /><br />Frankly, I had no desire to throw my hand to "woman's" work, but I joined her in hopes of escaping the tedious details of the upcoming transactions. My work with Billy was done; only my Golds interested me. Aika leaned toward me, speaking in a low tone.<br /><br />"Vincent spoke briefly about the loot culled from the bodies last night. Would you mind leaving the Electric Rod when you go? We could use another weapon around here. Rocky can take my rifle, and I'm familiar with Rods."<br /><br />That caught my attention. I nodded and reached for a towel. She resumed wiping and spoke while staring out the window at the corral.<br /><br />"Tell me, Lady, what you know about the Rod." The big pots and the grill were really a two-person cleaning job, and we worked as we talked.<br /><br />"Aika, I honestly don't know much about them, myself. Only what we ourselves have experienced in battle.<br /><br />"When used properly the rod not only stuns, but also creates an impenetrable field, much like the Glow you saw around me. The difference would be--and this is only in my experience--that the field prevents the target from taking any physical action."<br /><br />"My experience, too, Fini." She looked sad and intrigued at the same time. "My rods have only been for Ice magic, so this will be something new for me."<br /><br />I nodded while we both applied scrubbers to the grill. "Yeah, but if you already know how to wield a rod or wand, then that would be half the battle right there! Take it and welcome. We really meant for you to have the loot anyway; some of it was probably yours."<br /><br />She shook her head, smiling. "No. All they took were the birds."<br /><br />I was about to say "Great," but my heart sank as I remembered the PHS. "You aren't missing a phone, are you? We destroyed one after the battle."<br /><br />"No. Like I said; they weren't interested in anything but the chocobos." Once again I worried about the meaning of the gangsters' PHS.<br /><br />"Aika, you, Rocky and Duane have personal devices, right? Each of you? We are very concerned about the possibility that there may be other crooks floating around here, maybe even looking for their comrades." Her face turned grim.<br /><br />"Everyone has a phone, but you can see for yourself that we are rather secluded out here. Gone are the days of a whole chain or network of ranches. Shinra put them all out of business.<br /><br />"No, Fini. We have to rely only on ourselves; that's why I want the Rod. On the other hand, we have guns and we have armor. Plenty of both: all are stowed away from any random visitors. In fact, you are more than welcome to see it all. Maybe we can talk you into some for the road." I laughed a little at that.<br /><br />"My armor is the Glow, and you've seen Vincent's claw. He wears the other pieces under his shirt. We are well protected."<br /><br />We'd reached an impasse. The men were listening to our conversation, and we all stared quietly at one another. I thought about all the resources back in Nibelheim, and slapped the side of my forehead.<br /><br />"Good Lord, Vincent! I'm so dumb! <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Of course</span> we have backup!<br /><br />"Aika, when you feel you are threatened by outsiders, you call Sebastian. Tell him to ride Esmerelda, or to bring Time Mage Adrianna and Ken--and Buddy. Between the time mage and the dragons, someone should be able to arrive quickly enough to help."<br /><br />"Dragons? You have dragons in Nibelheim?" Duane looked spooked.<br /><br />"Not fully trained to battle, but at least they are transportation. Rapid Transport, to be specific. A local Green and a Great Northern Blue. They are already tuned in to our people. They can recognize when there is trouble. I can't promise anything, but we can provide some sort of backup. Right now you don't seem to have much."<br /><br />Aika nodded at Duane. We took out our personal devises and exchanged all the necessary codes. For the first time that morning, there was a real feeling that something was accomplished for that couple. I reviewed all the numbers in my list; it now included everyone from the Highwind, my Nibelheim contacts, and a few new ones from Junon area. I chortled.<br /><br />"Our network is really growing now. Hey, guys, does your ranch have a name? I want to input it."<br /><br />Duane spoke up. "In the pre-Shinra times we were simply called the Guard House. Aika and I come from a long line of armor-makers and stable masters, always connected to a local militia. At one time, long, long ago, the place actually <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">was </span>a guard house. The old dungeon was still here thirty years ago. All the military buildings were destroyed in the reprisals, and Shinra carted away most of the masonry. After that, the place was called the Old Guard House, even though the stone building is gone."<br /><br />"We ourselves don't call it anything. It's just the Ranch, but Old Guard is good, too." Aika looked somber, as if she were processing the name for the first time.<br /><br />"It's appropriate we should keep something from the past. Old Guard it is, then. That would make <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">you</span> the Old Guard, Duane." Aika was smiling at her husband. "Not me, of course. Just the old man here." We were all chuckling by then. No one in the place could possibly be over sixty. It did not seem necessary to mention that Vincent Valentine was by far the eldest at that table; it was such a long story.<br /><br />All proper arrangements made for their future security, we finished our breakfast in congenial silence, polishing off the muffins, and draining the last drop of coffee.<br /><br />It would be a long workday at Old Guard Ranch, and Vincent and I would soon set out for the Midgar area. We could not count on a family style-meal anytime in the near future.<br /><br />Maybe we couldn't count on any friendly encounters on the road at all.<br /></span></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-11185823529843596202008-02-01T12:41:00.000-08:002008-12-10T09:23:31.834-08:00Darkness on the Edge of Midgar<div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Wrapping Up Our Visit</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />Lord, I love breakfast! It was impressed on me from infancy that breakfast was too important to miss. In my parents' house, we could count on that one meal to always be bountiful and delicious. Even in my teens, when I was expected to haul myself out of bed before dawn to catch the public transit to the Academy, I dutifully rose even earlier and headed straight for the kitchen.<br /><br />Eating breakfast has a</span><span style="font-size:130%;">lways been good for my love life, too. It's funny how gluttony gave me an "in" with most men; while women usually worry about their weight, men simply love to eat. Guess they just knew what I knew: without the stomach's input, the heart couldn't pump!<br /><br />My Dad used to tell me I ate like a bird: three times my weight daily, starting at first light. Even today, I have to agree. There are so many breakfasts that I know how to prepare; I am never at a loss to make it anywhere on the Planet, with anyone's local crops or game.<br /><br />And so, Aika's kitchen felt like my own special Midheaven, full of food, men and good conversation, properly coordinated with liberal amounts of distilled spirits and strict regimentation. She ran the place like an officer's mess: well-prepared dishes and plenty of them, </span><span style="font-size:130%;">semi-casual seating and, finally, everyone out to work or whatever, as soon as the plates were empty.<br /><br />Naturally, we couldn't help but protest when, all too soon, the breakfast was done and it was time to continue to our respective business: a full day of ranching for them and the open road for us. Accordingly, I gathered up my kit and turned to Aika and Duane. I intended to mouth a simple thank you/good bye but came to an abrupt stop. Cyan's message was never delivered!<br /><br />"Fini! What's wrong?" Aika laid a hand on my arm and tried to make me take a seat.<br /><br />I demurred, feeling a little like a drama queen caught in her own histrionics. "No, I'm fine. It's just that I nearly forgot to tell you. You have to contact Sebastian: he's very happy now in Nibelheim. He</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> has a lovely woman at his side, and the two of them are expecting a baby!<br /><br />"I'm so sorry I forgot, but what with the rustlers and the arrival of Vincent here..." </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >He</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> raised an eyebrow in my direction that frankly said "Don't pin this one on me!"<br /><br />As usual, my hormones got the best of me, making me forget any competing business, until well after the fun was done. A night of romance nearly cost our hosts some very important information. My face flushed warm.<br /><br />While I was searching for more words to pile on my apologies, Aika held up a small note in Sebastian's writing, suspiciously similar to the map and directions he gave me.<br /><br />"Fini, we have Sebby's note from the box of irradiant chitons. We already know; we just haven't gotten </span><span style="font-size:130%;">around to contacting him. 'What with the rustlers and all,' as you say. Middle of the morning should be an excellent time to call."<br /><br />Aika flashed a huge smile at me, and then at Duane, and begged to take her leave. She picked up her personal device and searched for Sebastian's code. In no time at all, she was chattering at her uniformed son, and giving him a real earful.<br /><br />"Sebby, I hear we're going to be grandparents! We haven't even met your girl. When are you coming back to Junon? When is the baby's due date? Can you put our new daughter-in-law on to talk with us? You must bring her here to visit soon! You look good, but maybe a little skinny. Aren't you eating well? You'd better be feeding our expectant mommy!" She wasn't going to give Sebastian a word in edgewise.<br /><br />Duane and R</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ocky eyed each other and grinned conspiratorially. Things were returning to normal; all was right again in their world. At that, Vincent took my arm, and waving his claw at the men, led me out the door, back into the late morning sunshine.<br /><br />"Nice closure, Josephine. We leave them on a high note."<br /><br />"I forgot all about it. What they must think of me!" What was wrong with my memory? Too many plans, too many details, too many new faces, too little time. I was about to appeal to Vincent for some sort of suggestion or solace, but he was already at the gate of the corral, where he let out a piercing whistle. Glitter was at his side in an instant; it was time to ride. He helped me mount, muttering almost to himself, while keeping an eye turned to the A frame.<br /><br />"Josephine, forget about it. <em>They've</em> already forgotten us. Let's hope they remember to call if there's trou</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ble." He looked a little doubtful; with us gone, the Cyan ranch became even more vulnerable than before.<br /><br />I nodded agreement. "And let's just hope we are close enough to help if they need it. Telecommunications are no substitute for extra weapons and people who can use them. The Cyans have already been run through the wringer once by rustlers; a successful raid could shut down their ranch entirely." We decided to keep our phones on our persons, and cranked up the volume on their signals.<br /><br />Glitter t</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObiBmmOG-DAcE30eBC1bebvtqFYf3tUHUTSTZ6SzieYg0bTXUSHZnxgt8DkSrEukg7lw_Rq1sKUSZ3M4-v8-0Xx6DGGV3AgZH5bLLC9V3VzivePT9nxiNTx4Cygqe17pSStCTIzO1h8c/s1600-h/treed+ridge.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178727891177591106" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObiBmmOG-DAcE30eBC1bebvtqFYf3tUHUTSTZ6SzieYg0bTXUSHZnxgt8DkSrEukg7lw_Rq1sKUSZ3M4-v8-0Xx6DGGV3AgZH5bLLC9V3VzivePT9nxiNTx4Cygqe17pSStCTIzO1h8c/s200/treed+ridge.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">ook us quickly over the central mountains, right up past Sleeper's Cave. We did not visit the man who lived there, as we often did during our quest. He had been a fount of data </span><span style="font-size:130%;">when we needed it on the way to the Northern Crater, but that day would have only delayed our trip. Like most hermits, the sleeper would visit just long enough to pass on cryptic information. He would then ignore us, returning to his pastime, which seemed to be cultivating a prodigious capacity for slumber. Our bird had never been to the cave and pressed upward at full speed, only slowing as we crested the ridge. There we stopped to look over Midgar, stretching out in the distance and still visibly battered.<br /><br />Even in the bright midday sun, the city appeared as a huge dark stain on the northeastern plains, ringed by wasteland in an otherwise verdant landscape. One could pick out damaged sky scrapers and not a few flattened neighborhoods. Meteor had not fallen, but its proximity had created several memorably destructive tornados.<br /><br />The Lifestream had stopped the ultimate attack intended by Sephiroth, but did nothing to prevent the devastation caused by battling gravitational fields. I remembered the beautiful phosphorescent mists, shooting directly up the many funnel clouds that were visibly full of swirling debris, to completely envelope the monster. Our Planet was safe once more, but the city and people were left in a terrible mess.<br /><br />Our friend Reeve Tuesti, Midgar's architect and top level Shinra manager, had not permitted me to move there immediately after the disaster. He was afraid of roving bands of lawless survivors. Seeing the damage made me very glad that my sons and daughters were kept safe through it all. As it stood, it probably wouldn't be necessary to venture into the city. My parents had harbored the girls when my ex-husband found a new woman. And Reeve had seen to the safety of my other children.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Foothills</span><br /><br />I pointed to a cluster of streets, parks and buildings just Southeast of the city, directly below us. We were close enough to make out separate neighborhoods and even individual houses. In fact, I could see my parent's place, closest to the mountainside, yet set slightly apart from the others and lit by the sun high over our heads. Decades earlier, the new home had been built far off by itself, a lone, expansive spread with an impressive view of the city being built. Unfortunately, the distant neighborhoods had grown in closer with time.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM95YsOxSJsvZJoOsu9AL7e3y_RRm3O7y0v2jdn59mCl0JKb5WE6Mh3FErQjqVHuIL79mKKVoBr3NClnEZUMWr0ot6SVIdXM1qjjzJDKA9lgCfH_frKaAP2GmypLi8lE8lWwcXlarpPPc/s1600-h/adjacent+town.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176865309890203906" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 304px; cursor: pointer; height: 125px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM95YsOxSJsvZJoOsu9AL7e3y_RRm3O7y0v2jdn59mCl0JKb5WE6Mh3FErQjqVHuIL79mKKVoBr3NClnEZUMWr0ot6SVIdXM1qjjzJDKA9lgCfH_frKaAP2GmypLi8lE8lWwcXlarpPPc/s320/adjacent+town.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Not all city folk enjoyed Midgar year-round; Mum and Dad loathed it in any season, distastefully calling it the company town. They did not trust Shinra Incorporated, and seemed personally affronted when I had announced my intention to join its workforce, several years ago. It would seem they were right in the end, but then they were furious at me, disowning the daughter that joined Avalanche to fight the corporate titan.<br /><br />"Vincent, see the compound set among the trees in the foothills? My parents live in that community. I can easily walk from here." At that, I dismounted and gathered my things.<br /><br />He grunted; his disapproval evident. "Josephine, let me accompany you at least to the outskirts of their hamlet. Then if they reject you again, you can come with me to ChocoBill's Ranch. You will need backup if they greet you with that semi-automatic." The same rifle they aimed in his face when he was looking for me in the city, months and months ago.<br /><br />"Nice try, my darling. You are a sweetheart to care, but this is my show, and I have all the advantage. If my parents toss me on my butt again, then I may have to camp out on their doorstep. I go nowhere until I can see my girls. You have to meet with Billy, anyway, don't you?"<br /><br />He nodded and sighed. "You are so stubborn that I do not doubt you will outlast them. Go give it your best. You have a communicator; call if you need me." He kissed and hugged me, then left me facing my parent's neighborhood at the bottom of the hill.<br /><br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">He made a fine figure, sitting tall in black and red, his hair flowing behind as he rode our steed of shining gold. Glitter took him completely from my sight in less than five seconds. I braced myself for the upcoming encounter with my parents, mulling over how life had played some truly capricious tricks on me. </span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The Homestead</span><br /><br /></span></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Identical twins run in both sides of my daughters' family tree, with twin uncles and great-grandparents. Millicent and Trinidad are mirror-twins; that is, for example, they each have a beauty mark above their upper lip, same as mine, only Millie's is on the right side and Trini's is on the left. Or is it the other way around?<br /><br />Can't always remember, but I intended to double check my facts soon against the originals.<br /></span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">My parents home in Foothills, southeast of Midgar, was situated almost exactly opposite from Kalm in the Northwest, where my older brothers and I were born. We later took a place near the center of Midgar; a compact condominium that allowed us to attend the newly-built schools.<br /><br />My husband and I eventually took part ownership of it, time-share style, and raised our daughters in the same tradition. The folks had begun to retire to their little town shortly after we married, while the younger kids were still with them. Their new home was spacious and had <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvuIwisQz8JL4eVv1Pkp6iMq4oc00me9sF2u_dOHeXQvvqF0TNK-bTtQFMGC2Y24vqHV30ZZJ2i49TFP_OW8Dp_iPFstHCfAbeI6mUwPHcog63WnEn9IqveyLIbxFoxggt3u6dhEPK1o/s1600-h/foothills+subdivision.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175569350753275938" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 192px; cursor: pointer; height: 119px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvuIwisQz8JL4eVv1Pkp6iMq4oc00me9sF2u_dOHeXQvvqF0TNK-bTtQFMGC2Y24vqHV30ZZJ2i49TFP_OW8Dp_iPFstHCfAbeI6mUwPHcog63WnEn9IqveyLIbxFoxggt3u6dhEPK1o/s320/foothills+subdivision.jpg" border="0" /></a>plenty of land; they hoped to entice us to build nearby. My ex preferred to commission a small vacation cottage near the coast just northwest of Kalm.<br /><br />The younger siblings responded to their offer, instead, absolving him of the unwanted responsibility of watching over my parents year round.<br /><br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When I had first visited my folks, it was in the high rise in the center of Midgar. My father had welcomed me with joyous excitement, relieved to see me among the living, then disowned me for associating with terrorists. Unknown to me, my daughters were with them, were in fact inside their home while I stood in the lobby.<br /><br />We had rarely visited my family during my marriage; my husband did not really enjoy their company. The girls later echoed his sentiment and largely ignored their maternal grandparents. And so I was surprised to learn from Vincent that my Mum and Dad were guarding my twins after their father found a new partner. The girls did not approve of his new happily-ever-after; both of us come from long (previously uninterrupted!) lines of unbreakable marriages. We set the unhappy precedent, not through divorce, but as a result of Hojo's experimentation and amoral acquisition of me as a test subject. A faked "fatal" fire in the laboratories left my first love a very eligible bachelor with an excellent settlement from Shinra. My ex-husband had not lasted long as a widower before he was snapped up by a much younger coworker-in-waiting.<br /><br />While the city looked peaceful enough, I did not aim for the condominium in upper Midgar. The majority of citizens had evacuated the city, or at least its exposed levels, at the urging of Reeve Tuesti, to escape the inevitable disaster. No doubt my parents could easily pick up and transplant outside the borders, for a front-row seat of the impending catastrophe.<br /><br />The Lindorms would surely have remained at their homestead in Foothills, and their house. The facade looked cheery in the warmth of the autumn sun. The hills were a welcome relief from the mugginess I found around Junon, and the dry dustiness of the woods. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">My parents took some time answering the door, no doubt checking through the side windows before opening for me. Dad looked shrunken and Mum appeared even smaller; both seemed somewhat feeble.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANnbQkdIQgtdPGmrmOEH6RvYi82onjCdwrVJOzvT4lqv4nv_v6x61QnRmQaN8rL1qIH1iZq8CCJAV0XCQ_NgjulCZo0GBsqMcvKowilg2QosZQi34eJ-LviM2yXa4raPe7edOU5GMdGA/s1600-h/front+door.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177231735025062178" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 100px; cursor: pointer; height: 130px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANnbQkdIQgtdPGmrmOEH6RvYi82onjCdwrVJOzvT4lqv4nv_v6x61QnRmQaN8rL1qIH1iZq8CCJAV0XCQ_NgjulCZo0GBsqMcvKowilg2QosZQi34eJ-LviM2yXa4raPe7edOU5GMdGA/s320/front+door.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The old man spoke first. "What do you want, Josephine?"<br /><br />"What kind of greeting is that for your daughter? I'm still a pariah? Well, sir, even a pariah wants to know and visit with her family. Shall I leave and face the cold, cruel world alone?" May as well keep it light at first. My father ignored the sarcasm.<br /><br />"No. You are welcome here." He opened the door to admit me, but I remained on the stoop. If I entered, I would be their daughter, and we needed to keep ourselves on equal footing. After all, I was there on business.<br /><br />"Actually, I'm looking for Millie and Trini. Are they here?" Dad looked confused and Mum was watching him, very unhappy.<br /><br />"Your father threw them out." She began to say more, but Dad silenced her with a quick look.<br /><br />"Seems to be a lot of that going around with you two." I regretted saying it, but I still hurt from their rejection, back when I really could have used their support. "What did they do, join some terrorists?" Now it was Dad's turn to look hurt and sad.<br /><br />"Your daughters left to join their boyfriends. We don't approve of their lifestyles, but we are still friendly."<br /><br />"You don't approve of a lot of things. Am I allowed to know where I might find them?" Now he looked defiant.<br /><br />"If we don't tell, will you send your goons to threaten us again?" He looked so angry, but his hostile pose was defanged by decline and loss. I felt sorry for him. They were obviously alone in the house, two aging people living in sight of the ruined city.<br /><br />"That was just Vincent, looking for me, and he never threatened you. I had gone missing and he was worried." Actually I had hoped they would tell me more about their meeting, but Dad always played his cards close to the vest. Like someone else I know.<br /><br />"And Vincent is...?"<br /><br />"My husband." It slipped out; I hadn't meant to call him that, but I wouldn't correct it. It felt good to spite them, even in such a tiny way. Then my father just about broke my heart, and I had to remind myself that they didn't just lose a daughter. They also lost a son-in-law. Not their dearest family member, but theirs just the same.<br /><br />"Your second husband. We figured you wouldn't remain alone for long. Your ex has a new baby boy with that gold-digging underling. It's strange to keep reminding ourselves that he is not our grandson. We miss you both, you know. We don't get along as well as we'd like with the twins. And your siblings are busy helping to rebuild Midgar. We rarely see family out here." My Mum began to drip tears, so I impulsively grabbed her into a quick embrace. Dad reached out and we made it a group hug. I, too, started to mist over; then I remembered another detail.<br /><br />"Mum, Dad, you are grandparents again. We have a little girl in Nibelheim." They both pulled back, astounded, their mouths open. I spoke before they could.<br /><br />"Yeah, I know; it's impossible, but the experiments in Professor Hojo's Jenova Project undid my infertility. It's hard to explain, but he used me as a lab rat, after he had me killed, in quotation marks, so to speak. In fact, you have twin grandsons, too. Just can't see them, any more than I can." At that, I realized there was way too much to tell, and no energy left to discuss it. How does one go about explaining to her parents that their daughter is a Jenova mutant?<br /><br />"Mum, Dad, we can reconnect later. I am trying to rearrange my life, and once I do, we can meet again and take it slow." Dad stopped me, looking sad again.<br /><br />"Your girls live not far from here, pretty close to the city. There is a small town growing on the closest edge of Midgar. They just call it Edge.<br /><br />"We are still not thrilled with your associates, Little Lady. And your daughters are following in your footsteps. They insist the boys are there to protect them."<br /><br />"They'd better, or I will take care of them, personally. That's a promise." I could feel my face harden as I spoke, and Mum began to look worried. "Relax, you two. Right now there is nothing but time. Let me find the girls, and we can talk later, even if it's only on the phone. Life is too short for you to cut off everyone who loves you." Then I stopped, because it felt like I was preaching, and that was not acceptable behavior for a daughter. At least I was not the only one left unhappy by the separation. Dad interrupted my musing.<br /><br />“We can’t phone anyone. The landlines were cut when Diamond Weapon fired on the city.” He almost looked helpless, and I came back impatiently.<br /><br />“Well, what about wireless personal devices? No other receiver anywhere in this place?” Now I couldn’t help but sound like the instructor. “The Network is still there and beginning to thrive again, only this time through people power. Get over your dislike of technology! Here, you’ll have to take mine. No, I can pick up another; money I’ve got. Connections to you both are much more important. I’ll call and we can transfer the data files when I re-equip. Any idea of a good starting point?”<br /><br />At that, my Dad looked much happier. "Your girls have a restaurant they visit often, or maybe they work there sometimes. <em>El Francisco</em>. Check there; their boyfriends (he said the word with distaste) work the place with their family. A pair of brothers, though not twins." He smiled, enjoying the joke life was playing with the continuity of his descendants' lines.<br /><br />"You seem to know a lot about them for being estranged." I was smiling, too. Had the old man softened in the last few years?<br /><br />"We keep tabs on everyone. As you said yourself: life is too short." And then they were relaxed and chuckling. We exchanged a few more noises about how we would catch up on all the latest after I saw the girls. One last round of hugs, and I left without looking back. </span></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Business awaited me in Edge.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The Meeting at </span><em style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">El Francisco</em></span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">What the hell? I stood in the square and said the words right out loud. Why in the name of Holy would anyone be building a statue to commemorate Meteor? There they were, several workmen busily putting in the massive base that would support a huge structure. A large, painted sign ringed the working area and partly obscured their progress from view, all the while announcing the man-made monumental wonder that was to come. There was a picture of a cast-metal sculpture to memorialize the day that Meteor nearly flattened Midgar.<br /><br />Why wasn't the money being completely funneled into restoration of peoples homes and hamlets? Had Meteor addled everyone's brains? It made no sense to me.<br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">What was needed was a memorial to the Lifestream, for neutralizing and eliminating the threat. Or maybe the brave little band of adventurers who released the Lifestream by destroying Sephiroth? Why build a statue to the horror that hung over the city all those weeks? Why wasn't there a startup university dedicated to further study of the Planet, the Lifestream and other wonders?<br /></span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Obviously, nothing of value was learned by the local populace. Well, why should that surprise me, since nothing was learned from the previous apocalypse, thousands of years earlier? To this day, very little is ever said about the demise of the earlier civilization. Only that it destroyed itself, and we became the heirs to a nearly empty Planet.<br /><br />After marvelling a few minutes at the stupidity of Modern Man, I simply shrugged and moved on. Mustn't occupy too many brain cells with such nonsense.<br /><br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The first order of business when I entered Edge was a new PHS. The town was every bit as lively as the Sector Seven slums had been, and they looked about the same. There were little businesses everywhere, already springing up among all the fragments of Midgar. The inhabitants of the slums were always able to cobble together a lifestyle from the rubble of others' prosperity. After Meteorfall, everyone else would be trying to emulate them, as they picked up the pieces of a nearly destroyed metropolis.<br /></span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">PHS stores were everywhere, same as before. I understood. People would want to connect with one another more than before Meteorfall. My new phone was the standard-issue model in Nibelheim, because I hope to regulate it shortly to simple on-base communication.<br /><br />While in Midgar, my first act was to message all my contacts and give them my new code. Then I called my old number. It took a long time for my parents to answer, and they seemed uncertain of their new, relatively simple device. With some coaching, though, they were soon chatting away, at ease with the latest electronic development in their lives. We transferred my data files and removed them from their phone. Dad, especially, wanted to start with a clean slate. Knowing him, he would soon discover many features that I had never bothered to learn on that thing. Mum, too, would probably take possession of the device, using it to repair the tattered web of her family connections.<br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">One final detail: a three-way conference with Eleanora, and the formal introduction to their youngest grandchild. Much oooohing and aaaahing and some pretty silly sounds were coming from my august old parents. Fortunately, Aerith was so at ease with visiting via the PHS that she accepted the transmission with no tears or playing strange.<br /><br />Already she was bigger than during our last call. Nora bluntly laid the blame on me for tearing out of there without waiting to talk to anyone. It was true, I had to admit; as bad as I felt about Vincent’s rejection, there were still plenty of family and friends to console me. Those people were disappointed when I hadn’t seen fit to turn to them in my troubles. I let her scold a little while, then I reluctantly signed off the call; let them finish the conversation together. The grandparents would want as much face-time as they could manage in their first encounter with the baby.<br /><br />And I could barely contain my excitement as I prepared for my next stop.<br /><br />I called</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" > El Francisco</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, and spoke with Millie and Trini, in that order, arranging to meet them at their restaurant. The conversation was kept short and to the point. No use wasting our emotions on the airwaves; we could talk and touch at <em>El Francisco</em>, over some really decent guacamole and to<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbL4iAY1Yp75PsZ_mPgY6SSH79-cMqWP2ZXxU6xAUmCNugZX8gxd2qJ_AY8-6ODQjpltMDV0awZa_qNFGsybdZN85PkYjvpAptLnrJvYwanVT_0Cgic4iUqSxdIOUCqe5PGpQhvt99ogY/s1600-h/elfrancisco.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176934252705239314" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 185px; cursor: pointer; height: 281px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbL4iAY1Yp75PsZ_mPgY6SSH79-cMqWP2ZXxU6xAUmCNugZX8gxd2qJ_AY8-6ODQjpltMDV0awZa_qNFGsybdZN85PkYjvpAptLnrJvYwanVT_0Cgic4iUqSxdIOUCqe5PGpQhvt99ogY/s320/elfrancisco.jpg" border="0" /></a>rtilla crisps. Or so I was assured.<br /><br />It was no surprise that the girls had found mates who ran a restaurant. We had all been frequent visitors of different places where we could find a great variety of foods. Personally, I enjoyed meat and fish, but they always had their own ideas. One loved meat and vegetables, including many items that I don't especially like, and the other was vegan. Although they were identical, mirror twins, they were always very separate personalities to me. We did not dress them alike, and allowed them to make their own choices for nearly everything they required.<br /><br />Other parents of twins often told us we were missing out on the economy of purchasing and making things in twos, but we felt differently. My ability to bear children came to an end at their birth, and I wanted two daughters, not one pair of girls. It was impossible to discourage all the usual twin-ness about them, and we let them savor that. It was simply easier for me to enjoy each for herself, and not just as part of a twosome.<br /><br />Another non-surprise: our girls also chose non-twins. The kicker, so to speak, was that they were brothers. History was repeating itself, just as their great-grandmother had married the brother of her twin's husband. Now they were all inseparable, and clung together after Meteorfall, rebuilding their new home and running a prospering business. Surely their grandfather could appreciate their industry and need for autonomy. I resolved to prod all parties into a meeting in the near future.</span></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >El Francisco</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> was on the main road through Edge, and I was there just minutes after purchasing the PHS. While the girls had not grown in height, they were much more mature, two young ladies standing with their hands at their sides, and their eyes sad.<br /><br />We stared at one another for what seemed a very long time, while I waited for the accusation that I knew was coming. It came in stereo.<br /><br />"How could you desert us?" Ah, of course. The very words I was expecting.<br /><br />"I didn't. I was kept against my will. And I was part of the reason we are all here." Dammit, I was a hero, not a deserter! "And I am here, am I not? Just came from visiting your grandparents in Foothills." At that they both sighed and took me to a table laden with tapas, chips and dips.<br /><br />"So talk." "Where did you go?" "Why did you stay away?" "And who were those guys that scared Grammy and Grampa?" "We heard you were going to be executed just before that Weapon attacked!" One right after another, just like before. They did not share the same thoughts; they completed one another's paragraphs.<br /><br />Mimicking their shotgun style of grilling, I answered their questions one by one, allowing no interruption. At least, for as long as I could manage. The girls were no more shy than I am in conversation.<br /><br />"Hojo essentially imprisoned me, using me as an experimental guinea pig. Likely, they never took me out of the main Shinra building in the middle of town, so I was really close all along. At least until I was able to escape, when the entire R & D department went to Gold Coast, a few months before Sephiroth called down Meteor. Later, I tried to visit, but was chased away from my folks' place. Those guys were Vincent, and maybe Captain Cid, looking for me, while I was looking for you. I never connected because your Dad was busy making a new baby. He would not divulge your location, and it looked to me like they had enough on their plates. They didn't need more trouble." The scowls they gave me said it all.<br /><br />"Don't get us started about her." " She couldn't wait to get her hands on the insurance money." "We told Dad he would never see us again if he married her." "Then she got pregnant!" At that, I cut them off; something needed to be said.<br /><br />"Your father was certainly entitled to the insurance settlement, and it‘s his business alone however he intended to use it. As for his new family: nobody 'gets pregnant' by herself, you know. Your Dad knew I wouldn't want him to be alone after I died.”<br /><br />"But so soon, Mom!" Millie sounded disgusted.<br /><br />"By my count, it must have been well over a year, even two. Remember your uncle, and all his wives? They are marrying men, even your cousins on that side never stay alone for long. Be reasonable. What's more, I told him he should remarry if anything ever happened to me." They were implacable.<br /><br />"He'd better not!" Trini nearly shouted the words. "If she gets your money..."<br /><br />"They didn't get married?" That was intriguing news.<br /><br />"Better not have." That was Millie.<br /><br />"Let's change the subject. Suffice to say I don't care what he does. Besides, they have to think of your half-brother." Their looks were identically outraged.<br /><br />"Did you ever love Dad?" "Didn't you sleep apart?" Oh, boy, I wasn't ready for their scrutiny, not that deep.<br /><br />"Girls, girls! Your Dad is too ticklish to sleep with anybody. We shared the same bedroom, you know that. We love you, loved each other, and this whole situation has been difficult for us both. That's enough about your Dad and me. What about you and your guys?" They told me nothing new, except for some names. We exchanged our codes so we could keep in touch. Then I dropped the bomb.<br /><br />"You will want to meet your half-sister, too." The silence was immediate and heavy. "Yeah, I know." But I didn't know how they would react to the full truth, so I decided to feel my way through the next conversation. At that point, two young men appeared and proffered pitchers of beer. Each sat down next to my girls and looked defiantly at me. Once again I was the outsider; I took a deep breath, and started from scratch.<br /><br />"Gentlemen (and ladies), I am Josephine Lindorm, dragon rider from Nibelheim." There was a lot to explain, so I took it from the top. My girls were in good hands; the Bravo family was positively venerable, with records that reputedly went back to the Great Cataclysm. Many families claim to originate before the Cataclysm, but very, very few have documentation to prove it. The Bravos showed their pride in a beautiful private exhibition of papers and arms from the Ancient World, at the back of the cafe. A locker displayed them under the most secure, shatterproof material available--the same substance used to fortify the Highwind when it was commandeered by Rufus Shinra. The most convincing evidence was a lovely pair of Damascus swords, incredibly antique and still obviously as deadly as the day they were crafted in Ancient Iberia.</span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">We visited for hours, eating and drinking, with the men and I trying to talk over the twins' mutual soliloquies. Their world was entirely devoted to simple survival after Meteorfall. The boys and their family ran the restaurant. It had been a very slow start, but little by little, people were ready to resume normal lives. A fully functional restaurant could now be found in nearly every neighborhood, and tobacco shops and cafes were on every corner. The citizens picked up from the mess, and needed a place to meet and share their troubles. The older generation tended the kitchen, the boys handled the business and trade details, while my daughters hosted what was becoming a very popular meeting place.<br /><br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >The Bravo Family Feast</span><br /></span></p><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Their corner of Edge was neatly contained in one building, with tenants in the upper apartments and their restaurant in the storefront. All the couples, old and young, shared one home in the back, occupying two stories, keeping the entire two flats in the family, with the business facing the street.</span></p><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">During our conversations, we enjoyed hot tapas, as well as guacamole, tortilla crisps, fresh chili with beans, all grown in their garden outside Edge, along with root vegetables, fresh greens and newly-made pasta. Then the boys hauled in a huge, sizzling steak, covered in onions and reeking of garlic, enough for everyone. On top of that, there was cold beer and fruit from the recent harvest. We were going to get along very well, indeed.<br /><br /><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: verdana;" face="verdana"></div><div style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The elders of the Bravo family, not to be outdone, brought out some very decent wines: robust reds that went perfectly with the thick steak. I heartily approved of the family that had incorporated my darling twins. The Bravos, in turn, were anxious for stories of the road and begged for full, detailed descriptions of the major battles. It was during this conversation that I finally realized that I was sick of traveling, weary from all the battles and just plain hoarse from too much talking. Time for someone else to go questing and battling and storytelling.<br /><br />At that point, I insisted on a blow-by-blow account of their experiences during the catastrophe of Meteorfall's desintegration. Reeve had instructed all citizens to evacuate to the slums. For many of them, that was their first taste of life outside the elite world of the upper levels. My girls had left for Foothills with my parents, returning to pick up with the rest of my siblings. Edge was one of many communities to either spring up again from the rubble or grow out into the sunlight surrounding the city. They were not up to speed on the other parts of Midgar; it was enough to stay alive and rebuild their own world. And it certainly looked as if they had done just that. Most utilities were restored, thanks to Reeve and his people, and the rest of the population simply did what was necessary to carry on with their lives. I listened with pride and wonder to my daughters and their partners: a new world and new promise of new life awaited us all.<br /><br />Many hours later, I remembered to call Vincent, appraised him of my whereabouts, and described to him the route to Edge. He would join us in the morning; I was to remain at <span style="font-style: italic;">El Francisco </span>until his arrival.<br /></span></div><p style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was invited to stay overnight on the sofa in the living room of their Spartan apartment. Our first connection looked quite promising; the girls were very forgiving. The rift was sure to heal, but it would take a long time to tie up all the loose ends. And I didn't try to introduce the other half-brothers they should eventually know. We needed to take smaller steps in that direction.</span></p><p face="verdana"><span style="font-size:130%;">Meeting Vincent would be plenty to cap this first visit.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Midnight glow</span><br /><br />The darkness wasn't penetrable, and the silence was eerie. No cave is ever completely silent, but where was the sound of water dripping or wind moving through cracks in the surface? I was as comfortable as I would ever be on the road, so we must have made camp somewhere. I began to reach around for the others. The space was properly cushioned but very cramped, and I fit rather tightly into my bed.<br /><br />"Vincent..., Yuffie...? Reddie? Hey, where is everyone?" No one was with me, and I began to panic in the dead silence. Reaching further around, I tipped myself off the bedroll and fell a very short distance to the floor. Not expecting any fall at all, I collapsed with a little shreik. The Glow began to ignite and gradually I could see my surroundings. Soon I ascertained that I was unhurt and in no imminent danger.<br /><br />In the growing light it became obvious that I was actually inside a building, and had just fallen off a bed. Or rather the sofa, as my brain began to clear and I remembered the space around me was my daughters' living room, and not some pitched tent. The apartment was very, very dark and absolutely silent; it hardly seemed possible I was on the edge of Midgar!<br /><br />"Yo? Mom? You okay? What the hell?? Trini, come see this!!!" Millie was m<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nK6_NcnhtqyfrP4FVnXe5h4w4_ea6hJUmsXAKz7Zid9z20Gx4ZeVTQcH_mDKkXgTguLQDJxQUp08flLFMe3p0UDVAqJQ4tYs0-AlMg5U45ptcKZXUkMcmHgPCgAkjNBAlkjqX03-e68/s1600-h/mom!.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175570523279347762" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 176px; cursor: pointer; height: 131px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nK6_NcnhtqyfrP4FVnXe5h4w4_ea6hJUmsXAKz7Zid9z20Gx4ZeVTQcH_mDKkXgTguLQDJxQUp08flLFMe3p0UDVAqJQ4tYs0-AlMg5U45ptcKZXUkMcmHgPCgAkjNBAlkjqX03-e68/s320/mom!.jpg" border="0" /></a>oving down the stairs and her voice was rising nearly an octave with each step. At that, I could hear the others begin to stir from their beds, too. Soon four faces peered at me through the railing of the landing, with the older generation coming in from behind.<br /><br />Oh Hell, may as well make it a public party, why don't we?<br /><br />"Mom, what is wrong with you???" Now I felt trapped by the situation and the Glow burned a bit brighter. I was already floating a tad off the floor, as a result of the fall from my bed. For a few seconds I let them process the new information without explanation, while I thought of a fairly casual answer. All six people remained stock-still on the stairs, their eyes and mouths wide open, silent.<br /><br />"Uh, guys? Remember I told you about the experiments? Well, this is part of that."<br /><br />"Then there's danger?" Trini began to look around the room in fear.<br /><br />"No, silly. Just a nightmare. I'm disoriented, sleeping inside and all. It's just nerves; I'll get over it in a little bit. Go back to bed." Of course they wouldn't go back to bed until the Glow dissipated, and I'd sunk back to the floor. By then, we'd lit a small lamp, and decided it would be best to leave it alight, in case I woke again. In retrospect, it was a very good thing no one decided to sneak down and wake me.<br /><br />For what? Who knows? It may be someone would check on me if I talked in my sleep. Or fought in my sleep, or attacked Sephiroth in my dreams. Even the victors in wartime experience disturbances while sleeping, or are otherwise addled. Vincent's episode in the Forbidden Falls Glen was a very good example of that.<br /><br />Anyone who approached me while I was disoriented could receive a very nasty, and possibly fatal surprise. It was necessary to explain Chastity Belt to the whole family, without specifically giving it that name. That little bit of randiness was Captain Cid's idea, especially after that time in the noisy nightclub. It was excellent for discouraging unwanted attention from the opposite sex.<br /><br />I did make it very clear that they should not approach me unbidden when I was in the Glow. Then I ordered everyone back to bed, so that I could rest before the next day's journey.<br /><br />The kids returned to their rooms, whispering among themselves. It was clear they had some adjusting to do, now that Momma wasn't quite as they remembered her.</span></p>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-52081408325696290022008-01-31T17:24:00.000-08:002010-02-24T06:01:29.697-08:00Morning on Edge<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Before that week, I had never noticed the tiny hamlet of Edge.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Of course, whatever we passed on the way to the North Crater and our final battle with Sephiroth was colored by our grim quest.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was easy to forget that the Planet could be a lovely, lively place.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Even the small towns growing on the rim of the metropolis all had their own personalities.<br /><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This one, for instance, took full advantage of the spac</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e av</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ailable.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Had to hand it to Reeve: not every part of the city looked inward to Shinra.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Some parts were already developing a distinct local flavor.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>What we called the slums were really just places that refused to retain the antiseptic, futuristic "floating</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> city" aspect found on the upper plate.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>And they had survived, nearly intact.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Unfinished, but unbroken.</span></p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">No doubt Edge was already under construction, at least as an extension of the city of Midgar, long before Meteorfall. All the buildings were stacked together, as if to prepare for future onslaughts of urban renewal, and to allow as many people to live in the neighborhoods as possible.</span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Reeve had planned a densely packed metropolis: he would be thinking of all the future residents.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Unfortunately, the result was that Midgar sucked the very life out of its environs, as well as the color out of its population. Every home in Edge seemed to remember that it was part of a much greater urban area, and the outside, natural world found little repres</span><span style="font-size:130%;">entation</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> there.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It saddened me to note that, if it were not for the inclusion of a patio, there would not be much access to the outside air, except through the storefront of their little home.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I remembered a conversation between Cloud, our leader, and Barrett</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Wallace, the head of Avalanche.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>They were noting the lack of sky available to slum dwellers.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>No matter how ugly and polluted a place could become, its people would continue to love it as their homeland.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Both men had lost the towns they knew to the brutal machinations of Shinra Incorporated or its agents.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>And while Kalm, my birthplace, was the same, the Midgar of my youth, and tha</span><span style="font-size:130%;">t of my daughters, was in ruins.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Our Planet was intact, but our homes had all changed.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>At least my girls were able to adapt and move on.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Same as their old lady, it would seem.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNsomDpX6aE-TxArLjgP0L-L8y3D_z-K1HcOVh9PNn_XdzkmqeGH-RQiGZMkbogfwYmhemTACZtde8MArbLD4Fu_jCRwqvLt_jON-CQKMMAX3KZ_AAocomS-4M6RM8CrfPhgTghytFlw/s1600-h/patioplants.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 114px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188908336565632946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNsomDpX6aE-TxArLjgP0L-L8y3D_z-K1HcOVh9PNn_XdzkmqeGH-RQiGZMkbogfwYmhemTACZtde8MArbLD4Fu_jCRwqvLt_jON-CQKMMAX3KZ_AAocomS-4M6RM8CrfPhgTghytFlw/s320/patioplants.jpg" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Bravo house was still very quiet when morning arrived. At least, I believed it was early; I was all slept out.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> Nevertheless, there was very little light filtering down into the courtyard outside the French doors of the living room. I stretched my limbs and began to think about breakfast.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The smell of hot beverages and toasted grains filled the house, calling me to start the day.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I wandered into the tiny kitchen adjacent to the parlor. Everything looked brand new, but it </span><span style="font-size:130%;">was obvious the room was rarely used. Still, coffee </span><span style="font-size:130%;">was already brewed and appeared to have been sampled. I poured a small cup and rummaged through the refrigerator for creamer, my stomach a little queasy at the thought of black coffee after a night of too much food and drink. Once the beverage was to my liking, I roamed through the rooms, out into the storefront, wandering by the restaurant’s industrial-sized kitchen on the way.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Ah, that was the source of the delicious baking smells.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Breakfast was in full swing at <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">El Francisco</span>. My girls were bustling between the tables, and their men were tending the cash register and greeting patrons. Th</span><span style="font-size:130%;">e older Bravos were working the morning shift in the kitchen, at least from what I could see in passing. I moved up to the front counter, squinting in the morning sunshine that was streaming in from the street.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Edge was already a beehive of activity, with people going at a fair trot in both directions on the main road. What could keep so many so very busy, so soon after Meteorfall? I could only hope that all that industry was aim</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ed at rebuilding.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Mom."<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Trini sidled up to me, her arms full of trays and tableware.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Vincent Valentine called here about an hour ago, and is on the way to collect you. He sounded put off, and wanted to know what had happened to you. Where is your PHS?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The phone was right</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> in my pocket. I retrieved it and stared at the listing of all the missed calls. There were six of them, the first occurring right at dawn. Vincent would be rightly irritated; we had coordinated our devices right before we parted, setting the ringers on high. Of course, m</span><span style="font-size:130%;">y PHS was newly purchased and therefore not fully programmed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It didn’t matter that I had messaged all my contacts with the new code. Even the new numbers wouldn’t wake me if the device were preset to low tones. I had not bothered to customize the sounds and alarms, because it was much more important for me to hurry along to my meeting with the girls at <i>El Francisco. </i>Vince</span><span style="font-size:130%;">nt<i> </i>would doubtless demand an accounting of my unavailability when we reconnected. Well, let him, I had nothing to hide but my forgetfulness.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Nevertheless, I finally took a few minutes to recalibrate the tones, especially as I didn't want to disturb the diners. Still, I </span><span style="font-size:130%;">was</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> skeptical that anything could wake me after a night of beer and wine and talki</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ng. In fact, I was still droopy, and sipped constantly while I worked. The cup was never empty, as my girls and sons-in-law refilled it at every pass.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDgTHv0e4wqxXylkJW4q0JHclDGKgvZsJsuhrXm6ybRQnhC1zFdUhK3OI0lwnM8lteL4fnEYSntUw7XMuNkaA_rMwQuAvbAo2NtgybyNhuL8XjSozqySiy9SNEFT4g6ycnaDn-2XmlT8/s1600-h/counter.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 185px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 139px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189071691351769042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDgTHv0e4wqxXylkJW4q0JHclDGKgvZsJsuhrXm6ybRQnhC1zFdUhK3OI0lwnM8lteL4fnEYSntUw7XMuNkaA_rMwQuAvbAo2NtgybyNhuL8XjSozqySiy9SNEFT4g6ycnaDn-2XmlT8/s320/counter.JPG" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Soon I was presented with the daily breakfast special: waffles and pan-fried potatoes, and of course, more coffee. My daughters understood that their mother wouldn’t tolerate a simple roll and beverage, or even scones and fruit preserves. Lately my middle was beginning to, let’s say, look a little prosperous, so I eschewed a demand for meat or other animal proteins. Most of the surrounding patrons were nibbling their rolls and muffins, and I thought, looking surreptitiously over to my hearty helpings.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Isn’t it always like that? So many people barely eat breakfast, not a few skip it entirely. They poke at their meal, and enviously watch the rest of us chow down on our feasts. While it is understood that many unfortunates cannot stomach anything early in the day, the world would be better off if it stopped to eat first thing before any work.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">There in Edge, most cafes weren’t even open until close to noon, so <i>El Francisco </i>did a very brisk business each morning, beginning at sunup. The earliest customers would return for lunch, while the later ones might stop by before heading home for the night. Conversation flowed from counter to table and back through the servers; no one was excluded. Immediately I was tapped for contribution, so I smiled and mentioned simply that I came from outside. This afforded a few seconds of peace, just before an onslaught of questions interrupted my meal.</span></p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">“What’s new at Junon?” A burly man raised his voice over the general hum of talking diners.</span> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p class="MsoBodyText" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Rustlers looking to steal chocobos. You’ll want to watch yourself on the roads out there. They struck a ranch on the other side of the Foothills. Everything is okay, now, though.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">That was the wrong thing to say for anyone who needed to eat in peace. The questions came slowly but steadily, because the other wanted to hear the answers, and stopped eating to listen. In the end, I described the two attacks in as few words as possible, because I wasn’t there for the earlier raid. For the later one, it seemed best not to go into detail, especially given the nature of my embarrassing experience in the Glow. Besides, just remembering the spinning and jostling made my stomach lurch again.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>No need to pass along that little tidbit.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">In the end, I announced that the gangsters returned to the ranch hoping to mop up, and got their clocks cleaned instead. Telling the story made me anxious that the wrong people might hear it, but the news would have traveled anyway. I shook my head slightly at my girls, to squelch anything else they might add.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Any chance they will try out this way?” The place was buzzing in low tones; the news isn’t so much fun when it might strike locally.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“I would guess. Chocobos are valuable, maybe more so than any gil, until production resumes on automobiles.” Everyone was nodding at that. Edge was nearly bereft of cars and trucks, and public transit was not back in use just yet. People hiked everywhere and missed their Shinra-supported rides.<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“You got chocobos?” I looked again at the questioner and shook my head. It would be dangerous for him to know too much.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“No. Arrived on foot, after I hitched a ride over the Central Ridge.” It was probably obvious that a lone person was not likely to cross the mountains on foot. Lord, would he just please accept that answer and shut up?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">No such luck.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Who’s taking riders over the mountains?” The man was trying unsuccessfully to look casual, but I could see greed in his eyes. They were hard, and challenged me, even though he shrugged his shoulders and tried to look casual. At that moment, I decided to provide no more information and tried to ignore him. I returned to my coffee.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Hey, lady, who’s taking riders? C'mon, I’m interested.” Then the place got much quieter; he didn’t sound just interested; he sounded insistent and louder. My reply came as quietly as I could manage, as I was trying not to get excited.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“It wouldn’t matter, because that person didn’t come to Midgar, or he would be here with me. Don‘t you think?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The hairs were rising on the back of my neck.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I heard the man push back from his table. My curiosity got the better of me, and I turned slowly towards him, standing as I did so. Some of the patrons dropped cash on their tables and edged towards the door.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Lord, it was too early for this nonsense.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I shook my head in silence and spread my arm in mute appeal for his cooperation. He practically spat his answer at me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“C’mon, lady, tell me the name and whereabouts of the service; I may want to use it. Who’s taking riders over the mountains?” There could be no doubting the aggression in his voice. The jerk was moving closer to me, and the room fell completely silent.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I took a very deep breath, because I didn’t want to ignite the Glow. There would be no telling what sort of damage would result to the café, if things got physical. Why in the world did it have to happen at my daughters' place? In an effort to diffuse the situation, I smiled and scanned the faces around me. The diners did not return the good humor, instead anxiously looking towards the door. That’s where I wanted to be, too.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>At the very least, we would need to take the belligerent gentleman outside.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>His demeanor was disturbing the diners, even though it was directed only towards me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I began to back away from the fellow, hoping that we were aiming for the entryway.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Both of us almost levitated when the next voice chimed in, answering the man’s previous question.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CZ4XTa-03CVTCxEO5HzOz3Ns_QIgPaOm1IugycB6JTpmzwDhTdLP5pdmxVJm48L_yQApGF6c8TC5_vOFgiZkYL-tJZTaAhyj2lyyfJCSEkzmvw7yvi4-rItyK3u6__o8VPI7BNeut8g/s1600-h/COMPOSITE.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 177px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189072150913269730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CZ4XTa-03CVTCxEO5HzOz3Ns_QIgPaOm1IugycB6JTpmzwDhTdLP5pdmxVJm48L_yQApGF6c8TC5_vOFgiZkYL-tJZTaAhyj2lyyfJCSEkzmvw7yvi4-rItyK3u6__o8VPI7BNeut8g/s320/COMPOSITE.jpg" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“If you are my wife, I am. Otherwise, you’ll need to find your own transportation.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Would you like to take this conversation outside?” The man nodded--glumly, I thought!--and moved to the door.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Wait! What about the tab?" No way would I allow him to leave without paying my daughters. He actually blushed, and returned to the table and left a few gil.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Sorry. Wouldn't want to stiff the kids." He muttered the words to us as he passed. I began to wonder if I was wrong about the man. Vincent followed him out to the street.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">My daughters came right over to me as soon as he left. Millie whistled aloud.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Wow! That was scary!" Trini was visibly shaking, so I reached out to soothe her. Then she shrugged, her eyes smiling.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"You were great! I can't believe how you stood up to him." She took my hands, and it just about killed me to feel her tremors.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Baby girl, I'm so sorry to have caused you any pain or fear. Trouble just seems to follow me around." Millie shook her head.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"No, Mom. It's like that everywhere now. Only thing is, he's always been a regular. Not every day, all the time, and not usually alone like today."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"He's got friends?" Vincent would want to know. I moved to the swinging doors. "They could be outside waiting for him." But my hero was already standing on the other side. He entered and walked straight up to the Bravo boys.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"He probably won't be back. I'm very sorry if we cost you any patronage." They shook their heads amiably and stuck out their hands." Then Trini spoke over the returning buzz of the other customers.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"If he's going to harass the other diners, then we don't need his business. He wasn't very nice to Mom here."<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Trini sounded indignant, oblivious to any gaffes I may have made in the exchange. Mentally, I was reviewing the conversation, feeling guilty that I may have caused an uproar where none was warranted. To chase away customers from the cafe was not the worst I could have done, but the possibility that the man was innocent was beginning to gnaw at me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Generally people are friendly and civilized to strangers all over the planet. Even the ones who don't trust strangers are coldly polite, following universal custom. On the other hand, there are plenty of rough-edged loners who lack ordinary social graces. Perhaps he was one of them. It was time to add my own apologies, and move on before we could do any permanent damage.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Well, kids, looks like you can't take me anywhere nice, doesn't it? Trini and Millie, this is Vincent Valentine, a commander in the Nibelheim militia and one of my companions."<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was startled by the sudden burst of laughter that met my introduction. My daughters each took one of my arms and drew me behind the counter. The two Bravos were standing on either side of Vincent, too. Everyone was laughing. Vincent shook his head, and spoke, kindly and fondly.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Josephine, we have just finished our introduction, and thought we included you. Obviously, you were elsewhere. And you failed to mention that we are somewhat more than companions." The look of hurt reproof surprised me. He could be very insistent on having things his way, I thought. It was irritating to be boxed into his idea of my role in life. What made him think I would hang on his every word?<br /><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The girls looked at one another and then to the men. "Hey, guys, why don't we turn the place over to the folks? We can visit a while before you go back to Nibelheim."<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Vincent broke in. "Sorry, but I'm not convinced that we've seen the last of that diner. Josephine, we should go directly to the Old Guard Ranch, and warn them that there are other troublemakers who are interested in chocobos."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"But, Vincent, maybe he wasn't a bad guy. It could be he was just crude."<br /><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"No, Josephine; it's a fair bet they'll be waiting for us when we hit the road. I want to be still fresh and on the alert when we travel. Party's over, little one. Kiss your daughters and invite them to Nibelheim." He turned to the Bravos. "You are all welcome in our home. My wife misses her family every day you are apart. Surely, it is important to maintain close ties while we can." I thought about his family and how he worked to regain their hearts. Now it was my turn to do the same.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Vincent's right. This is just the beginning. We can visit again on the other side of the ocean. Let's just make sure this rustler situation doesn't destroy our friends' ranch.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"I expect to see you soon. All of you." It felt good to really hug the girls. And as an added bonus, the boys dutifully presented themselves for an embrace.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Before I could get tearful, I nodded to Vincent.We marched to the kitchen for quick introductions and even faster goodbyes with the Bravo elders.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Then we stepped out into the late morning sunshine and mounted our steed, a very large and sleek Black. The chocobo readily accepted the extra weight and raced across the barren plain to the foothills.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">We watched the entire way, expecting to be ambushed. This time, however our trip was uneventful, and we traveled alone up into the mountains.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Please click <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Older Posts</strong></span> to continue----------------------------->>>></span></p>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-64311880656319440892008-01-25T20:38:00.000-08:002008-12-10T09:23:32.978-08:00The Battle for the Old Guard Ranch<div><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >As watchful as we were, I still felt we might be missing something. Gangsters would not give up so easily.<br /><br />We crested the highest mountain and looked over the lovely fallish landscape. The river flowed nearly at our feet, and the wooded hills loomed ahead. I had an idea: it couldn't hurt to collect more intelligence before pressing directly into possible battle.<br /><br />"Vincent, why don't we check with the sleeping hermit? He may have been visited himself by the rustlers." Vincent first shook his head, then sighed</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > and s</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >miled.<br /><br />"If we don't, you will blame an ambush on me."<br /><br />I smiled back and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! And if we learn nothing, you can blame the delay on me. Anyway, it won't take more than a minute."<br /><br />"Your breeziness is beginning to rub off, Josephine. It's sounds like a perfectly reasonable proposition to me."</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br />He directed the massive black bird down toward the hidden cave. We had hardly dismounted when we could h</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >ear the sound of a person deeply and no</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >isily asleep. The loud snoring always struck me as ludicrous. How</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > could anyone sleep so much? More precisely, how could anyone possibly sleep while making all that racket? He was surely just putting on a show to lure in anyone who happened upon him.<br /><br />Vincent touched him gently. The sleeper came instantly alert, automatically intoning one of his stock responses.<br /><br />"C'mon. You just ran away from that last battle. Otherwise, you fought one</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > ba</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >ttle recently and won it."<br /><br />I nudged him again, but he merely repeated himself. Somewhat miffed, my partner spoke in a tight, controlled tone.<br /><br />"No. We didn't run; we just didn't fight. The gentleman left on his own accord."<br /><br />The hermit cocked an eye at Vincent, and surprised us with a direct answer. "Escaped. Whatev</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >er. Call it what you like. Now leave me alone; I need to sleep." Well, that was the deal: one</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > visit, one assertion. The sleeper returned to sawing wood and we wandered out of the cave. Didn't take more than a minute.<br /></span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Visits with that guy were almost always rather unsatisfactory, although, very occasionally he would produce some little item of value for either healing or battling. Not that trip. I looked sheepishly at my partner.<br /></span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >"Okay. Nothing of use or interest here. Let's go to the Old Guard Corral."<br /><br />Vincent nodded and helped me mount. This time he jumped up in front of me and we were off to the foothills outside of Junon. While it had been less than two days since our stay at the ranch, the woods were noticeably cooler. Soon t</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >he trees would go completely brown and the area would lose all its prettiness, at least for me. Don't exactly hate winter, just the bitter cold and apparent lack of life and color. I thought about the ocean beyond Junon. After all, the perennially sunny and warm beaches of Gold Coast waited on the other shore.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br />"Hey, Vincent, how do you want to cross the ocean?" He grunted; I already knew his answer, and he knew it.<br /><br />"Jose</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >phine, let's just use the ocean ferry. There is no real rush, and I</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > see no reason to spend extra for an air ship or taxi." I smiled at his back; he might be trying to buy some extra time with me, away from the base</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >. On the other hand, even a few days away from Aerith G felt like way too many.<br /><br />"Don't be so cheap. I really want to be with the baby, the sooner the better. And I miss my dragons." I really did, too, even though the dragons were nearly forgotten until we rode through the woods. Esmerelda would have simply flown over the treetops and wouldn't have given the ocean a second thought. How would the Great Northern Blue handle all that</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > greenery, so foreign to his previous existence on the frozen continent?<br /><br />Without the Gold chocobo, we would have to pay for passage, no matter how we traveled, even for the bird. A different tack was in order.<br /><br />"Do you really want to subject this Black to a long voyage over the ocean? I w</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >ant him fresh for mating, or rac</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >ing, or whatever."<br /><br />"Josephine, you don't even know what you want to do yet. All in good time. Let's just take things as they come. After all, there are seaplanes and helicopters in Junon. We can decide later, or even call Cid for a lift."<br /></span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >"Right. First we check on the Cyans. C'mon, whatever-your-name-is! To</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > the river and the wooded hills." Vincent began to chuckle, and I could feel the laughter rumbling through his chest.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />"You see, little one? Has it never occurred to you to even ask? This is Bill's prize jewel, Onyx. He only reluctantly let me borrow him, and only be</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >cause his grandson Billy insisted. Glitter was stubbornly refusing to entertain his "blind date," and they wanted more time to let him settle down with her. You may have been correct about his brief romance with Jet. He may need to recharge his interest in the opposite sex. Ah, there's the river.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: verdana;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UWM-chfI5fOUpA92Fph-6HC5-de33JA0WoI2fBApjj1-n2JTkqWz2gtSKfeAQRPSPs3vz0xJdjaxAXa4hrBP0tM8nJPDXAU0YCcczCR9y2m3dGHmTJo1l5ZwAZlx3QgqJf4ZU6h9Ufg/s1600-h/watercourse+old+guard+ranch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196343294546104818" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 241px; cursor: pointer; height: 130px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UWM-chfI5fOUpA92Fph-6HC5-de33JA0WoI2fBApjj1-n2JTkqWz2gtSKfeAQRPSPs3vz0xJdjaxAXa4hrBP0tM8nJPDXAU0YCcczCR9y2m3dGHmTJo1l5ZwAZlx3QgqJf4ZU6h9Ufg/s400/watercourse+old+guard+ranch.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">" <span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />We could hear the rush of the wat</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">er. Summer had been very dry on the Eastern Continent, and rocks and driftwood were exposed and nearly impeded the flow. One didn't even need a Blue, or water-friendly, chocobo to cross.<br /><br />Onyx</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> took no notice at all of the water, not once stooping to take refreshment. He was still jazzed by our quick trip up and down the larger</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> peaks, and was eager for more. There could be no doubt that he was the prize racer Billy was so proud of. I was touched to the heart that he would proffer his</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> treasure, and made a mental note to call him with thanks as soon as was practical.<br /><br />We crossed the river as if it were not even there, skimming it and barely rippling its surface. Onyx aimed for the trees.<br /><br />A</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">s soon as we began to close in on the wooded hills, we could feel a change in the atmosphere. Even the bird tossed his beak in the air, sniffing and snorting.<br /><br />"Vincent, can you get a whiff of that? Sort of an electric or ozone smell? Not a cloud in the sky! It's giving me a bad feeling." I hugged him even tighter and he spurred the bird to higher speeds.<br /><br />"Me, too, my lady. Have your weapons ready. We are going straight to the corral."</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Raci</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">ng birds have a way of streamlining their body for maximum speed, lowering the head and snugging in the wings. A rider will usually flatten against the bird, to also become more aerodynamic. On the other hand, a battle bird is trained to move about more erect, on the alert for enemies and danger. Vincent pulled the reins upward, causing the chocobo to crane its neck, even while racing towards the forest. It would be necessary to ditch Onyx before we joined battle; he was not hardened to the sound of gunshots.<br /><br />The electric smell intensified, along with a feeling of dread, surely the scent of arriving too late. We began to hear screams and curses.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The rustlers had indeed struck again.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">The Thick of Battle</span><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Frankly, I couldn’t imagine that any of our friends from the Old Guard Corral would have such a filthy mouth. Whoever it was, however, sounded as if she were in the worst agony of her life. I poked Vincent in the back.<br /><br />“Sounds like Aika is learning to use her new electric prod.”<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">“Woman, don’t jab me like that while riding. Onyx isn’t familiar with either of us and could misinterpret my reaction.<br /><br />"And we can only hope you are right, and that the woman we hear is not our ally.”<br /><br />"Don't worry. Aika would never use such language."<br /><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">With an uncommittal grunt, he spurred the bird onward all the harder, just as we entered the edge of the woodland. We climbed the hillside, pushing past the smaller trees and underlying brush at the base of the Foothills. Then it was jostle left, scramble right, over and over, as our steed found his way through the thicket of the slope. When we crested the first hilltop, the sound of battle increased. At that point we heard a volley of gunshots, followed by the cries of panicky chocobos. Our own bird responded with a anxious barrage of rapid-fire w</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">arks. With that, I wondered if Onyx would allow us into the fighting arena. A high-strung racer could balk at the last minute, sending a rider over its head.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Vincent pushed even more, so the bird lowered his neck nearly to the ground, and we plowed into the clearing, right through the middle of the firefight.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I say “firefight” only because we passed through the very center of an acrid cloud of gunpowder smoke. Alarmed by the alien odor and noise, Onyx screamed and reared, dropping me to the ground, and leaving Vincent in sole control. He in turn pulled the bird back to earth and rode him screaming right into the stables. Two men immediately exited in a big enough hurry to run rig</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">ht into me, firing all the while, while I was still struggling to find some footing.<br /><br />Unfortunately for all of us, the Glow had already ignited when I fell from Onyx. The two bad guys ricocheted off me like pinballs hitting a rubber bumper. Meanwhile, the cloud of smoke dissipated, and I could see that</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> other people were rushing me from different directions.<br /><br />There was no time or room to notch an arrow, so I simply swung Yoichi as hard as I could around me, aiming for some of the un-friendliest mugs I’ve ever seen in my time on the road. </span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />It almost shames me to admit that I love the thwack of a well placed hit, especially in the enemy's face. My opponents were surprised by the desperate measure, and screamed in</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">vective every time I connected. Th</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">e air was turning blue with their profanity.<br /><br />Don’t low-lifes know any other epithets for women besides the C-word? It disgusts me, and seems a little tiresome when used over and over, same as the F-bomb. Why turn something natural and pleasure-giving into a scatological swear?<br /><br />“Time to come up with something new,” I thought wryly; we could have benefited from Desiree’s skillful oath building around there. Then I tossed out a taunt to anyone who could hear me.<br /><br />“Hey, watch your mouth! There’s a lady present, I think.” I looked around for Aika, and found her on the decidedly safer outer side of a Pyramid Attack.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxzIh31CvytAVAUqq-OS23Nmpajk1dJieIXoN2U9dzeV3TYVSszon3ldS-sGV1DFLREHaASXSz0sT7_tqUIhLaXQixfMD3ukGeMXGnuNuPY18DtSXSnO8g4wkRoHTIdBO08q8XBt_J0M/s1600-h/pyramid+victim.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxzIh31CvytAVAUqq-OS23Nmpajk1dJieIXoN2U9dzeV3TYVSszon3ldS-sGV1DFLREHaASXSz0sT7_tqUIhLaXQixfMD3ukGeMXGnuNuPY18DtSXSnO8g4wkRoHTIdBO08q8XBt_J0M/s320/pyramid+victim.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204854902691076402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> H</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">er opponent was looking stupid, momentarily stopped by the electric</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> field, and Duane was moving in for the kill with his shotgun. I wanted to</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> shout some encouragement, but my own enemy attachment was pressing in. It was simply a matter of time or effort before they would break through the barrier of the Glow. I reached into my pocket for Quicksilver, the small handgun given me by Vincent.<br /><br />Before I could even unlock the safety, I felt a smacking at the back</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> of my head and neck. It certainly wasn’t a mortal blow, but the wallop found its way through the field enough to knock me forward a bit.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Again? Was I always going to be so vulnerable from behind? What’s the use of a force-field that couldn’t protect my backside? With a growl of disgust, I swung around once more, this time pistol-whipping my attacker's jaw with the bottom of Quicksilver’s grip. He, too, screamed, gurgling through the gore collecting in his mouth, and lunged back at me, coming suddenly against the Glow.<br /><br />There was such wide-eyed amazement on the bloodied face squashing itself against the field; I had to laugh: bitter, loud and unlady-like.<br /><br />When I finished braying, I simply unlocked the safety and shot him in the heart, point blank. Easy pickings, and good th</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">ing, too. My protective field was being peppered by shots incoming from all directions, each one batting me backward, forward, or whatever, slapping me around and making it impossible to effectively react one way or another.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It seemed like no time had transpired before they had me at their mercy, using only sheer numbers, and rendering me completely impotent.<br /><br />At that point, I could see no one, and concluded that they were shooting from cover. How many rustlers, of both sexes, were involved in that fight, we may never know. After the fact, we were able to recover enough intelligence to suggest more than one gang was involved, even in the initial attack. When Vincent and I arrived there seemed to be people everywhere, all bearing down on our three friends.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Aika and Duane later said they were ambushed as they brought out the birds for their late-morning exercises</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> before lunch</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">. If they had been attacked at the front of the house, they would have perished immediately, with their backs to their freshly-latched front door, execution-style. As it was, they merely ducked into the barn and retrieved their weapons from the armory behind the stalls. Two high level Yellow racing chocobos died in that first barrage, while Rocky Brantford frantically applied himself to securing the rest of the birds out back, before he re-emerged outside the entrance to the barn. He never stood a chance against the hidden snipers.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">So, on our arrival the ground was littered with casualties</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">. Rocky lay under the length of fencing closest to the house. There was no time for me to raise him before the attackers struck, but Vincent tossed a Phoenix Down over him as he re-oriented himself to battle.<br /><br />He shouted hoarsely at the Cyans. “Ring your son. It's not too late. Call Sebastian!” Aika shouted back that she had summoned him as soon as the attack began.<br /><br />Any time we compare our experiences of the fight for the Old Guard Ranch, Vincent always mentions that the Cyans were very much in control of their respective skirmishes. Apparently, we were the primary targets of the rustlers, who knew we would return to the ranch. No doubt our</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> adversary from <span style="font-style: italic;">El Francisco</span> was responsible for that piece of information. Even during the worst moments of that fight, I kept that fellow in the back of my mind, hoping to repay the favor by personally handling his demise myself.<br /><br />In no time, all firepower was directed at us, and the Cyans were able to see to their fallen comrade and birds. Then they both returned to the battle,</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> fully restocked and ready to finish the job.<br /><br />By then, though, things were not looking too good. Vincent was picking off anyone foolish enough to expose him- or herself, but there were still many o</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">thers who were smart enough to remain hidden. We were just so badly outnumbered, and they were slowly closing in, leaving us just four able-bodied fighters with our backs to an open stable. One after the other, the Cyans fell, and even Vincent was taking hit after hit. I wondered if he could enter his limit break before it was too late, but it was not to be.<br /><br />And me? I was protected by the Glow, and relatively unharmed. But I was addled by so many shots battering so constantly at me. The men were armed only with handguns and rifles, while one solid little woman was using a sort of launcher, but they soon guessed that I was not immortal.<br /><br />Even as my partner was falling forward, the enemy began to show th</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">emselves. There were no fewer than a dozen of them, both men and women, all armed to the teeth and visibly carrying plenty of ammunition. By</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> sheer force of numbers they could easily overpower me, now that Vincent was down.<br /><br />My first instinct was to protect my friend and lover, and I moved over to him, engulfing him in the Glow. Then I faced the closest woman, drew my bow and spat out a challenge.<br /><br />“Come along, then. See what you get.” She smiled and raised her weapon to fire at my fallen knight, not at me. It infuriated me that she would shoot him while</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> he was out, even though I knew he would likely not be harmed. I aimed for her trigger hand. Just then a new sound was coming to us from the trees.<br /><br />Involuntarily, I paused to look back over my left shoulder. It was really just reflex: our assailants did the same. An unearthly shrieking and whistling was pouring in from over the woods, just beyond the roof of the chalet.<br /><br />The sound steadily crescendoed, until the trees nearest us abruptly bent double with an oncoming shock wave. The woman looked up, her face</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> panic-stricken, gave out a long, high-pitched wail of a curse, then burst into super-hot flames, along with her nearby comrades. Who was using high level Fire magic?<br /><br />Two seconds later, she was completely consumed, leaving only a spot of sm</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">oking dust. Even that was soon gone, blown across the ranch and into the surrounding woods by the next shock wave, and the arrival of our winged allies and a friendly voice.<br /><br />“Esmerelda, drop me with Fini and Vincent!” Sebastian was soon standing next to us, passively taking hit after hit from the rustlers. He convulsed time after time, with no apparent ability to resist or escape. All I could think was, oh great, he’s going to die right in front of his mother. It would be necessary to leave Vincent in order to protect the young soldier.<br /><br />Yet soon it was clear Sebastian was in full control. </span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaj5fwrU61u17OWo4haQLAa7y5rGaPl5FKxg4MAbTIqWOlN8uII3QFSLQxjHyieYGCfHP9enlsTA6sEufjCEhOCCGwoAQhYq7TBT7DqpeNFUlzIjQqxZcNsfH_kSlxOF9AdOU9_nolDc/s1600-h/sebastian+gloats.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202101484684580226" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaj5fwrU61u17OWo4haQLAa7y5rGaPl5FKxg4MAbTIqWOlN8uII3QFSLQxjHyieYGCfHP9enlsTA6sEufjCEhOCCGwoAQhYq7TBT7DqpeNFUlzIjQqxZcNsfH_kSlxOF9AdOU9_nolDc/s320/sebastian+gloats.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">He stood with his arms crossed, sporting a deliciously evil grin, we</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">lcoming the shots, and gloating at the enemy's effort to destroy him. For their part, the closest criminals were moving in, reloading and hee-hawing at his foolhardiness. However, it wasn't Sebastian's voice that boomed out from the glowing/dissolving soldier. Except for language itself, there was no humanity left.<br /><br />“Come on, boys and girls! I’m just about ready for you.” One last thunderous rumble of laughter, and our friend had begun to glow</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">, first the spear he called Moonshard, then his entire body. Unlike that first time in the basement of the Shinra Mansion, this metamorphosis was almost immediate, as if through their cognizant cooperation, the Spirit of the spear and the human Sebastian were able to speed the transformation. In just a few seconds, they were a brightly-burning, super-heated blue spirit, almost too bright to see. My Glow was of much lower wattage by comparison, and I felt sort of jealous of the battle god.<br /><br />At the same time, Esmerelda had shot straight up over the corral and then slowly lowered herself just behind the split-rail fencing. All the men on that side of the ranch began to fire on her, and she shreiked, spewing flames at them in her fury, wh</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">ile Kulloden, her rider, dismounted and immediately ducked with her shotgun into the stables, exposing herself only to check on the Cyans.<br /><br />At every dragon scream, another rustler glowed and burned away in short order. Our glittering green ally was increasingly agitated and looking all around. Then she craned her neck up and over, looking back our way.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Or rather, over our heads at the trees above.</span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEght_O_sjEZT0SK-qPFLHNuQ9MWHDc5hDXfcaXaDWxVFZU8azbbyZ3d8ajw9kBtngpVLWDX1Um2-mWjSKE6Ypn-mqoV8PR7UgSFW4_1TPlk2L9fjG51p80ndjZNE99KEGrYJvFobQLRMsw/s1600-h/gathering+power.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202103048052675986" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEght_O_sjEZT0SK-qPFLHNuQ9MWHDc5hDXfcaXaDWxVFZU8azbbyZ3d8ajw9kBtngpVLWDX1Um2-mWjSKE6Ypn-mqoV8PR7UgSFW4_1TPlk2L9fjG51p80ndjZNE99KEGrYJvFobQLRMsw/s320/gathering+power.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"> </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Before us, in the very</span> </span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">middle of the ranch, Burning Blue was</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">preparing to attack, gathering</span> </span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">energy from all around, and forming fireballs. All the while, he laughed maniacally, reveling in the freedom allotted him. Then he pointed to the small crowd attacking Esmerelda and they were instantly consumed in a blinding sphere of blue light.</span><br /><br />Even in the rain of bullets and larger projectiles, my green girlfriend still ignored her surrounding enemies. Restlessly swinging her neck to and fro, she watched the trees, where now another unbearably high-pitched sound was working its way through the woods. Beyond the chalet, the forest was slowly disgorging humans, as they came running to escape the painful sound. Overhead, a new shock wave was bending the treetops, this time covering them in a frosty rime that spilled over into the clearing. The men who had not yet exited were frozen in the border thicket, immobile ice sculptures, hands clutching their heads.<br /><br />Even within the Glow I could feel the instant chill caused by very high level Ice magic, brought in on a frigid hurricane, a veritable blizzard. Then the enormous Great Blue Lindworm came to rest atop the canopy of the nearby woods, bellowing from the very depth of his being.<br /><br />Buddy did not choose to descend from the newly-silvered canopy. Instead, two of his riders dropped into the treetops and through the branches onto the forest floor. First the time mage Adrianna lit gracefully, her military cape flowing gently around her, alert dignity personified; then a fully armored Ken Woods was at her side in an instant, dropping heavily with his huge sword in hand, allowing it to plant itself in the earth. He turned to the mage and signed that she should take cover in the trees, and so she remained directly under Buddy, surveying the battle conditions, all the while aiming her staff and chanting spells. Soon the majority of the nearby rustlers were moving perceptively slower, making for easy targets unable to cope with Ken’s rapidly slashing broadsword.<br /><br />And still the ear-stabbing whistle continued, rising and falling like the skirl of a bagpipe, at once both mournful and appallingly shrill. By then, everyone, even those engaged in hand-to-hand melees, cast at least an occasional glance towards the trees southeast of the chalet. Some thing was surely coming, getting excruciatingly louder as it approached the ranch. The sound was maddening even to me, painful and oppressive, an exaggerated confusion of high-pitched tones that I not only heard, but felt, deep inside my skull, rattling my teeth. I felt sick to my stomach, and my battle dragon, too, was reacting with obvious distress.<br /><br />Without warning, Esmerelda lifted from the middle of the corral, fluidly spiraling into her now-familiar barrel-roll, and pierced the trees and brush right next to Adrianna. The time mage was holding her hands over her ears, but was otherwise unperturbed by the sound or the action of our Lesser Green. As soon as the dragon was out of sight, swallowed by the trees and brush, the piercing sirens stopped, and the entire area went silent. Then the cursing started again, only this time in almost reverent, low tones.<br /><br />Adrianna continued to look into the forest, peering between the trees, with her back to the ranch. From where I stood with Vincent, I could not make out anything, but here and there, another badly wounded man or woman rushed from the woods, with their hands covering their heads. Their comrades left us to join them.<br /><br />“Adrianna, get back behind the trees!” Ken roared as soon as he saw what was happening, but his warning came too late. The time mage dropped into the deep grass and was out of sight, shot at close range. The soldier let out an anguished howl and charged the nearest gangster, running her right through, on his way to save our friend. He then ran over to where Adrianna had fallen and covered her with his body. </span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Oblivious to all else around him, he peeled away his kabuto, his bulky samurai helmet</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">, and began tending her wound. At the same time, the rustlers concentrated their efforts on eliminating him while he worked to heal her.<br /><br />One final dragon rider dropped through the canopy overhead. An electrified whip struck and wrapped around the bole of the tree closest to where Ken tended our time mage, showering sparks over the two. Then Desiree Sunset swung down through the branches, cleanly missing the forest floor, while barely skimming the grass. She plowed directly into the criminals as they bore down on our allies. Shreiking like a wounded lynx, she lit into anyone within reach, starting with a haymaker to the sternum and finishing by slashing the throat of the unfortunate before he or she could recover from the first.<br /><br />In quick succession, she took out three then and there, leaving them to bleed to death in her wake, their necks mangled by her razored claw. The remaining two fell back to aim their weapons, but Desiree, too, backed up just far enough to collect her treasured Kitty. In one flip of her wrist, she raised the sparking weapon over her head and snapped it onto the closest attacker, catching his rifle and effectively electrocuting him. He dropped to his knees, but his hands were too burnt to break his fall, and he finished flat out on his face.<br /><br />The fallen man's companion, in turn, backed away to draw a bead with a small launcher, but not quick enough to stop the Kitty Whip. This instance, however, Desiree simply snapped the woman towards her and tore at her neck in one vicious swipe. The victim dropped to the earth in a fog of blood droplets.<br /><br />In the meantime, it seemed to me that the Burning Blue god was keeping the center ring of that circus all to himself. He was the hub around which short bursts of bluish-white removed our adversaries one by one, highlighting them like the flash of a camera in dim light. His taste for killing, coupled with his obvious glee, ensured that anyone unlucky enough to become his target was quickly eliminated.<br /><br />Since the Cyans rejoined the fight, they had simply used the same tactics as the rustlers, hiding and sniping with Kulloden watching their backs. By then, there were so few left of the enemy, I felt I could take the time to check again on Vincent. A quick rummage through his pockets did not produce the necessary Phoenix Down, so I cuddled against his side and proceeded to heal him myself.<br /><br />Once again I became a target for the remaining crooks, but my main concern was to stabilize my baby’s father. He should have been protected by the Glow, but so late in the battle, I wasn’t sure just how safe I myself was, let alone my patient. I looked up just in time to see a woman rushing us with a matched pair of nasty looking daggers, followed by our old acquaintance from <span style="font-style: italic;">El Francisco</span>. At that point I was spent, too tired to multitask. I flattened myself on top of Vincent, and simply stared at the woman, willing her to die, if only that were possible.<br /><br />For a second time that afternoon, an assailant simply burst into a blinding crimson, self-consuming fireball. This one never lost her look of murderous purpose, and never uttered a sound. The man from the café stared a moment at the greasy powdery residue that remained, and then looked beyond me into the trees, his jaw slack. With my hand still touching Vincent's</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;"> cheek, I followed the enemy's astounded gaze. There, beyond Ken, Adrianna and Desiree, was a very small, sparkly green dragon, reined in and ridden by a sourly disapproving Sheol. She rolled her eyes at me and seemed to be scolding the little lizard, leaning on his neck, and whispering at the area where, I suppose, dragons hide their ears.<br /><br />They were followed by Esmerelda, who was nudging her son, herding him with her nose towards the clearing. As soon as she saw Vincent and me, she lifted off the ground and flew right over to us, settling herself face to face with the remaining rustler.<br /><br />He was their last man standing. If any other gangsters had survived the battle, they had wisely chosen to leave with their lives. Aika and Duane were poking around, into any likely hiding place, while Sebastian had returned to his usual self, covering the gangster with Moon Shard. I immediately growled into his face.<br /><br />“Don’t kill him. He’s mine." Yet, I wondered why Esmerelda had not wiped the scumsucker off the face of the clearing when she incinerated the other. The words of Lady Kameko sounded in my ears. A dragon doesn't read one's thoughts; it reads the person. That would be his or her very soul.<br /><br />“Geez, Esmerelda, remind me not to get you angry at me!” I joked at my girlfriend. "What made you spare this bastard?" The answer was partly clear already; he stood unarmed, and I had not seen him lift a weapon during the entire engagement. If he had struck at the ranchers, he did not fire on me; nor did he make any movement to harm me or protect himself. Never mind, there would be plenty of time for his reckoning. He was well guarded. I turned away from him and tended my partner.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">My sight was soon completely blurred with tears and I wiped them away surreptitiously, hoping no one would notice. </span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Vincent was beginning to stir and I was feeling giddy from the almost overwhelming relief. As usual, he peevishly pushed me away as soon as he was physically able. He then slowly rose to his feet, and steadied himself against my shoulder, being careful not to touch my flesh with his.<br /><br />We all looked around, taking stock of the well-being of our allies, and noting with grim approval the mess that used to be our assailants. Our losses, too, were just unfolding.<br /><br />Rocky Brantford never recovered from the point-blank gunshot that had taken him out of the initial attack. Both Aika and Duane knelt on either side of him, cradling his head and smoothing his blond curls. They were sobbing openly; there could be no remedy for a direct hit to the heart and lungs. The multitude of entry marks left by steel shot riddled his chest and neck. We did what we could to make him comfortable, and ensured he would not die alone. I saluted the fallen wrangler, then left them to their goodbyes.<br /><br />Vincent, Kulloden and Sebastian had already moved to the edge of the woods to check on the young soldiers. All of our Nibelheim allies were hidden behind the Lesser Green Dragon. Rather than push past her, I picked my way around, looking up into the treetops for Buddy. Like a huge dirigible or airship, he was slowly sinking to the forest floor next to Esmerelda, emitting an alien whine, sort of a low, melancholy dirge. My dragon, also gently keening, leaned into his snaky neck. He returned her caress, never ceasing his mourning-song.<br /><br />A very subdued Sheol had dismounted and stood holding Spike by his collar, slowly petting his head. The baby was whinnying and squeaking like a hatchling: he, too, sorrowed. Expecting the worst, I began to push my way into the circle of young people.<br /><br />Flanked by Vincent and Desiree, Adrianna sat in the dirt, rocking and moaning. She held Ken's head on her lap against her midsection, stroking his hair and murmuring all the while. She fairly bathed his face in kisses and tears, her words coming soft and slow.<br /><br />"Ken, don't go. I'm sorry, Ken. Please don't leave us." Alarmed, I shoved past the others and dropped to the grass.<br /><br />"Adrianna! What happened?" She turned her eyes, red and swollen, upwards to the dragons, then to me. She cried aloud once, then choked out something completely incoherent, stopped and composed herself with great difficulty, and tried again.<br /><br />"I knew he was right, but I wouldn't listen. We can't allow both parents into any battle. He took all those bullets to protect us." She took Ken's lifeless hand and placed it gently against her abdomen.<br /><br />"Us? Adrianna!" Nothing more would come out. I reached for the fallen man's pulse, but his neck was already cold, unresponsive to my touch. I could impart no cure; there was no life left to raise.<br /><br />We can slow time. We can even stop immediate local time, but we cannot reverse it. We didn't need Adrianna to explain that to us. Our many restorative items are very limited, especially in dire situations. We need to be there immediately for them to be any use; they work through the natural processes of the afflicted. There must be some spark to target.<br /><br />Even with my enhanced abilities, there are injuries I cannot heal, especially where the heart and brain are concerned. What's more, bullets, broadheads, and other projectiles must be dislodged in time to repair damaged flesh and organs. Most of all, none of us can replace lost blood and tissue without a waiting reserve. Finally, some battles are simply too long to allow us to intervene effectively. Ken was lost to us, especially to Adrianna and their baby; he had raised and cured her with the very items that might have helped him if used in time.<br /><br />The Great Blue Dragon continued to howl at the side of his lost friend. In grim silence, we lashed the gangster from <span style="font-style: italic;">El Francisco</span> to the fence, and proceeded to return our fallen heroes to the Planet.<br /><br />We watched in hushed reverence as two humans and two chocobos were destructed to their original stardust. Vincent ceremoniously picked up Ken's huge broadsword and presented it to Adrianna. She accepted it with a brave smile, then closed her eyes and wailed to the skies, holding the heavy weapon with both arms against her belly. We could only lower our heads and wait out her mournful crying.<br /><br />And then our loss compounded: Sebastian and Kulloden decided they would remain with the Cyans. His disheartened parents needed both the protection and the extra work hands on the Old Guard.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">When Duty Hurts</span><br /><br />Aika and Duane both needed to make preparations to travel southeast of Junon, where Rocky's people lived. He had been called away without warning, so his parents would know that there had been danger. Still, the Cyans dreaded telling them their son was gone. Furthermore, Rocky's lover, also a sometime wrangler, would also need to be notified. It had been years since Shinra terrorized the area, and most people would not be expecting such dire news.<br /><br />That left Ken's parents, who at least knew their boy was a warrior. </span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Adrianna had already met his family via PHS. They, too, were woodland folk like the Cyans, living further out in the plains, nearer to Fort Condor in the southwest. It was important to her to deliver the tragic news by herself. Such cold resolve took my breath away, and I voiced my outrage.<br /><br />"You are going nowhere alone!" It didn't seem too difficult to understand. We had already suffered a casualty. But the Time Mage was insistent.<br /><br />"This is my duty; I owe it to Ken's family. And they need to know that I carry their grandchild." Her voice cracked as she said it,while her hand moved instinctively to cover the slight swelling at her waist. Desiree moved to her side, and took her hands into her own.<br /><br />"Kid, the commander is right; you can't go by yourself. We can do this together. Buddy and I get along just fine now, and you have to slow down and do what you need to protect Ken's baby. Our baby. The child belongs to all of us now, right?" Adrianna nodded, dripping tears from her bright blue eyes, then smiled and thanked her childhood friend with a hug.<br /><br />Vincent and I would return with Sheol and the two Green dragons to Nibelheim, where we knew we must report to Walter and Hildegarde. Procedure had not be properly followed: pregnant women had taken part in battle with their mates. Daiki Woods, our Ken, had died as a direct result.<br /><br />A very untrained dragonlet and his rider did not belong in battle, either. The horrific, debilitating sounds we heard were Spike's caterwauling at being left behind. He was not disciplined enough to enter battle, preferring to shake off Sheol to follow his mother. For her part, she simply clasped her hands around his now properly snaky neck, and hung on for the ride. She reported that after a short while he began to create the field that adhered her to him. And, yes, the trip overseas had been his very first unassisted flight!<br /><br />The thrill of the ride had been tempered by her frustration at him; he would not obey her commands, mindlessly crying for his mother, a sound that only increased when Esmerelda moved out of sight through the woods. Not daring to loose her grip on the baby lindworm, Sheol was left to listen to his awful sirens until Esmerelda rejoined them. Both mother and squire were greatly displeased with their little charge.<br /><br />So we did not look forward to our arrival home. Everyone would have to answer to the inquiry into the Battle for the Old Guard Ranch. That would include two pregnant women in a firefight, although Sebastian and Kulloden were no longer a part of Nibelheim's militia, and were now immune to censure.<br /><br />On the brighter side, we now had a dragon--no, two dragons--to take us over the ocean! Onyx could be left at the Old Guard, and would be returned to Billy in due time. They could begin to make preparations for shared services and other cooperative enterprises. The ranch was now richer by two seasoned breeders who were also fairly experienced soldiers. Our little world was that much closer to enjoying Chocobo Wrestling.<br /><br />For my part, I had had enough of travel and battle. It was time to return to my baby and our little domestic haven in the Keep. Some wonderful food and wines could help ease the pain of our losses, although Adrianna would practice temperance to safeguard her unborn baby. Her pain would have to be healed by time. I wondered if there weren't some trick that could ease her suffering, once we were safely home.<br /><br />Vincent assured me that autumn in Nibelheim was a time not to be missed. We could look forward to the winding down of the harvest and the colorful beauty of fall in the valley.<br /><br />We agreed that we certainly could use some peace and quiet, in our sleepy little hamlet.<br /><br />I can be such a gullible fool around Vincent.<br /></span></span></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-86545431773043877722008-01-20T12:28:00.000-08:002010-02-24T06:46:57.137-08:00Homecoming<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br />The Last Gangster</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"> </span></span><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />There were still several bodies that needed proper destruction: those of our defeated enemies. We untied the last gangster and impressed him into undertaker services, forcing him to help us return his allies to the Planet. This he did willingly, and with silent dignity, bowing his head in a last g</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">oodbye to each of his fallen comrades. Again I was struck with his comportment: he could not be an evil man. When the grim task was completed, he stood in our midst and began to explain himself.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Before MeteorFall, he had been a member of Shinra’s peace-keeping force; nearly all of the gangsters had been Shinra employees. The breakup of the corporation left them with their weapons, a ready-made hierarchy, and the discipline that allowed immediate aherence to whatever rules they decided among themselves. They were out of work, so they roamed first the ruined city, then the countryside, looking for whatever jobs they could find. </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Unfortunately, armed gangs were regarded as vectors of crime or at least violence, and they were soon hounded out of the population centers by Reeve and his deputies. Over the next few months they gradually lost their initial sense of purpose and began to steal and act more and more lawlessly, as their numbers grew. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Our captive would only give his first name, Kain, saying that he didn’t want his family to suffer any repercussions. He had children, some quite small, and a wife who was still not aware of the chocobo rustling. She believed he was jobbing for ranchers, as an itinerant who sought work wherever he could get it.</span> </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />His rustling confederates refused to accept him back after our encounter at El Francisco. In their opinion, we should have been eliminated, one after the other, as we exited the restaurant. For all they knew we would recruit a posse to destroy them, after he had so clumsily botched his intelligence gathering. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />They would keep him close at hand, and make him prove he wasn’t a turncoat. They plan</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ned to kill him at the vaguest hint of collusion; the Old Guard Corral would be the acid test.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Yeah, well, we pretty much decided that it sounded like a load of guano. We needed some proof of Kain’s assertions. After all, it was easy to guess who had directed them to the Old Guard.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />After a short discussion amongst ourselves, it was decided. He could take us to those comrades who had escaped. Kain balked, looking down at his feet and speaking slowly.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">“You guys got nearly all of them, at least any who were worth their salt in battle. Just a few cowards who hid in the woods es</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">caped. You gonna hunt them down, too?” He sounded defiant and resolute; he would not rat out the deserters.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“How else can we secure the ranch?” With that query, Duane spoke for all of us. It would be best to eliminate the few escapees, to prevent them from trying to regroup and attack again.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Then just get it over with. Kill me now, because if they see me leading you, I may be dead anyhow.” Actually, it seemed to me that the suggestion had some merit, but it would be less than honorable to execute an unarmed man, regardl</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ess of his past sins. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />On the other hand, to leave him at the Old Guard was not really an option. The Cyans were preparing to make their sad visit to the Brantford’s home, and there was no secure area to use as a prison cell. Besides, why would they want to keep a criminal jailed on the premises?</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />It was a real quandary, but Duane again surprised us by speaking up.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Leav</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">e him to me. Aika could remain with the kids, if I had someone else along for the road trip. After we deliver the bad news, he can take me to his family to verify his story. There will be three people to guard the ranch against the stragglers, if there are any.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Kain, if you’re willing to prove that you really have a family, then we may be able to work up a deal. Right now you are my prisoner; we can’t promise you much more than a full belly and enough hard work to make you sleep at night. Later, well, we shall see.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Kain smiled shyly and nodded his consent: it was the best he could have expect</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ed.<br /><br />After all, highwaymen have always existed, long before the fall of Shinra, even in the times before the Great Cataclysm. In small numbers, Aika, Sebastian and Kulloden could deal with intruders, and reinforcements would be as close as the PHS. Ranch workers were hard to find, so if Kain wanted to continue to support his family, then he could work for it. He would start with the sober task of escorting our friend to Rocky’s parents.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">In the aftermath of the battle, we remembered to gather all the loot droppe</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">d by the rustlers. Among the usual motley collection of firearms, we acquired a couple of small rocket launchers, both still loaded, and some wicked-looking hand-carved daggers. All spoils were offered to the Cyans, who, this time, gleefully accepted the whole lot for their arsenal. We were happy to relinquish them; they were well earned. Except for Adrianna, our own people were already heavily armed. Furthermore, we would always be welcome to collect whatever we needed on our way through the wooded hills.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />That evening only a few of us gave in to the luxury of sleep. Our mopping up complete, we directed the expectant mothers to take the bedrooms in the up</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">stairs of the chalet, while the rest of us passed a few hours around the kitchen table, reliving the battle and its consequences. Aika and Duane also spent a great deal of time getting to know, and visiting with, our saurian air service providers. They had not seen a dragon in more than forty years, and were enchanted to find them literally in their own front yard.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Vincent and I wanted to completely debrief our two departing soldiers, but with Kulloden taking a much-needed rest, we talked at length only with Sebastian. He made it plain that he didn’t want to sever from us. We could consid</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">er the Old Guard a new outpost of the Nibel military. In effect, we were setting up a permanent alliance that, once verified by our generals, would become the first step towards extending the reach of our militia to two continents.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Once that business was settled to everyone’s satisfaction, preparations were made for our respective journeys. In the half-light of the very early morning hours, all available hands dispersed throughout the ranch to secure the borders. Not a criminal in sight, but nothing could be left to chance, with only three people to guard the place. Brush was cleared and trees</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> were limbed for improved visibility.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Never before had the corral seemed so vulnerable. Even Shinra had respected the sanctity of such Mom and Pop businesses, choosing to drive them out by overpowering them on a business level, and ultimately absorbing them. Now violence became an everyday possibility. It was good to have disciplined soldiers to set up proper procedures for security, and a lifeline to a full waiting army.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Sad Partings</span><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Adrianna and Desiree took Buddy away to the southeast just as the sun rose over the continental ridge. The women did not even want breakfast before they left. The Great Northern Blue had passed the night in the shelter of the dark woods, and was restive and ready to return to the skies.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />A few hours later, directly after breakfast, Duane and Kain set out on foot; the lengthy journey would give the two men time to learn about one another.<br /><br />One more </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">surprise: Kain, too, would go armed; the roads were not safe for pedestrians. He somewhat awkwardly accepted a shotgun, mentioning that he was much better with a lance, when he could get or make one. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Duane simply intoned a noncommittal, “We shall see,” and they both slipped into the woods. That left us time to make arrangements for our own trip home.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />At the top of my list was a hot, soaking bath, and I repaired to the second storey bathroom to luxuriate--and to work the PHS, to scout our route before we left. There was someone who might want to meet my glittering girlfrien</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">d. The owner/bartender of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The Dive</span> reported--his voice audibly shaken--that the hamlet was still vibrating from the screaming formation that had passed overhead the previous day. Yes, he thought Lovelock would very much like to visit with our dragons.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />After changing into my cleaner, fancier clothes, I swept down the stairs and announced that we had an appointment with our allies from the tavern. It seemed important that we establish the link between those people and the Old Guard. It wouldn’t hurt to keep a finger on the collector; </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">he had already proved to be a useful source of information and arms. Aika, too, could offer their newly-acquired weaponry as a stockpile to be available when needed by the larger community. With the network re-established as in the old days before Shinra, the towns and ranchers would rely on one another for news and emergency aid. I promised to relay the proposal.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />A light lunch was eschewed in favor of catching some bar food on the way. Only our steeds were in immediate need of fueling. We walked the dragons through the nearby woods, hunting the wild birds and gathering whate</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ver greens appealed to them before their flight.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Satisfied that everyone was prepared for the trip, Vincent and I took leave of Kulloden and the remaining Cyans. We approached our battle dragon for permission to climb aboard and head for <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The Dive</span>, then home. This she graciously granted, moving slowly around the clearing, encouraging her dragonet to follow her example. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We watched the low-keyed parade a few moments before we caught on: this was an impromptu training session! We were the students being lured into a game of "catch us if you can." Esmerelda wanted to show us something.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Once we understood their offer, the great lizards became easy targets for us as riders. First Sheol walked up to Spike and swung easily onto his back with one arm around his neck. It looked as if mounting the little stinker were nearly involuntary!<br /><br />I wandered over to Esmerelda and reached for her in the same way, and felt my body drawn to exactly where I wanted to sit. Vincent followed suit, only he kept both his claw and his unprotected hand at his sides, to protect our friend from possible injury. Amazingly, he lifted easily into place behind me, then </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">wrapped his arms around my waist.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Somehow our Mr. Valentine always seemed to know just what was needed. His ability to roll with the punches and land on his feet proved itself over and over again. In this instance he simply made himself available, fully trusting in the draconic power, and passively accepting her actions. It was dream-like, wish-fulfillment in action: we wanted to ride, and it became so.<br /><br />Then we all lifted as one over the forest canopy, aiming for the port of Junon.</span> </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">The Collector’s Gift</span></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />As we passed beyond the foothills, and into the sight of the little settlement that included <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The Dive</span>, we could see a small crowd standing close to the entry of the bar. I scanned the people’s faces and was rewarded with waves from the friendly patrons I met a few days earlier.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Esmerelda, you sure you don’t mind if we visit?” I had hardly spoken the words</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> when I could feel the dragon slowing and sinking. We landed a short distance from the buildings, still snug against the forest. Sheol dismounted her little steed and came over to me, impatience written on her face.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Commander, do you really think we need to rest already? I’m pretty certain that Spike can cross the ocean nonstop. He’s a strong flier, at least when he wants to follow Esme.” </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Sheol, these people were very helpful in my search for the Cyans. I want to tha</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">nk them and show them our dragons. Some bragging rights, you know? I think we earned them. Oh, my!” There stood Youshun Lovelock, right by the doorway to the tavern, carrying the beautifully crafted shield, with my Grampa’s battle dragon insignia. Vincent and I dismounted and walked up to my new acquaintance.</span> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvO7lzgDbGQ_9hnKJkLj2QZfpDJZy5OoebL074hhrJDa7aH9yibiCXhv10JZ37Q5UTSMAVLW7fHsWHfu_RSUhFK6xkP4VU3fPzuhgXbuVBENQPQsKY1sloww3oXeBOgh-aqqMEjTrvO0/s1600-h/yoshikuni's+dragon+shield.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 210px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215089033015031250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvO7lzgDbGQ_9hnKJkLj2QZfpDJZy5OoebL074hhrJDa7aH9yibiCXhv10JZ37Q5UTSMAVLW7fHsWHfu_RSUhFK6xkP4VU3fPzuhgXbuVBENQPQsKY1sloww3oXeBOgh-aqqMEjTrvO0/s320/yoshikuni's+dragon+shield.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />“I assume you’ve already met, gentlemen?”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Sure did, just the other day.” He stuck out a hand that was immediately grasped by Vincent, and held the shield out to me. Slowly and reverently, I took pos</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">session of the treasure, and bowed. Beaming, he returned the courtesy.<br /><br />“I’m glad you’ve decided to accept my offer.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“How could I refuse the Shield? My family is forever in your debt, Youshun Lovelock.”<br /><br />It was massive, almost too heavy for me to carry. I turned it so I could show Esmerelda. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Hey, Girl, loo</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">k familiar?” Her response was immediate; I was filled with a sense of recognition. Esmerelda didn't just recognize the emblem, she seemed to know that very shield. Could she possibly be old enough to remember the dragon riders of Nibelheim?<br /><br />“You have some tales to tell, Lady. We will need to talk.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“You can talk to the dragons?” The collector was intrigued, almost incredulous. “You didn’t mention knowing the ancient language.” And I hadn’t. Talking with the dragons had been an almost religious experience for me, and</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> wasn’t really for public consumption.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“My dragon has privileged me with her confidences; I am only just learning.” I left it at that, and Youshun did not challenge me further. He had already moved in toward Esmerelda and her baby Spike, slowly raising his hands to touch the scales. He murmured a few words that I couldn’t hear.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">My dragon responded by lowering her head to be stroked. I laughed out loud.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Youshun, you son of a gun! You didn’t tell me that you knew the language, either.” Of course, there wasn’t a language at all. A dragon reads a person</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> and responds accordingly. Youshun’s reverence couldn’t fail to impress my green lady, and she allowed him to touch her, and even approach her chick.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“You weren’t just weaving a story about the dragonet. Amazing! We haven’t seen real dragons around here in decades. And a Lesser Green, never.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Miss Lindorm, did we or did we not see a Great Blue Northern Lindworm yeste</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">rday? It was impossible to miss; there were three separate flyovers. First a few villagers spotted the Lesser, then we all got to watch the larger one, both flying high over head. Then the smallest came through, a tiny Green, shrieking horribly." At this, Sheol rolled her eyes. "We knew they were headed to battle, because we could see puffs of smoke up in the hills.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“We had wondered if there was trouble and discussed the possibility of sending scouts up to check. Once we saw the dragons, I figured that you were going to get the best of whatever was attacking. Must be I was right.” He smiled at me and continued to inspect Spike, who was loving every little bit of it. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The crowd was moving in on the great lizards. Esmerelda easily accepted the loving curiosity; they were often the center of attention in Nibelheim. In fact, it was my specific goal to see an end to the novelty by increasing their numbers.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />As people often will when visiting with a large, apparently docile creature, the locals began to offer them handfuls of grass. At that, Youshun Lovelock himself brusquely intervened.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“None of that!</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> These are not ruminants or cattle, they are battle dragons. Their diet is specialized. If you’ve got insects or crustaceans, fine. Just don’t give them grass. What a bunch of rubes!” He’d obviously done his homework. Or maybe it was just another collectible: dragon lore.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />For the local citizenry, though, Lovelock’s word was law: he was the expert. The bartender ducked into the tavern, and emerged carrying an armload of seafood. Knowing that the local shores were polluted and barren, I felt I ought to try to graciously decline.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Hey, Captain, that stuff looks expensive! They’ve been pretty well fed this morning…” He ignored my protests.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“It’s not every day we get to feed battle dragons, Ma’am. Our pleasure.” I let it go, especially since Esmerelda and Spike were zeroing in on the proffered delicacies. The man barely escaped with his arms, and backed away, just as the two lizards vacuumed up the seafood.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Hey, hey! Don’t eat me!” He fairly shrieked the words, but was grinning immedi</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ately afterwards, although somewhat shaken. No doubt it was a story he would tell for weeks.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />After the first excitement began to wind down, I watched the villagers gawking at the great lizards, while the bartender organized an almost impromptu picnic, complete with beer and sandwiches. Then I set the shield against a tree, so we could study it in the sunlight.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Josephine, it’s a beauty. A lance and bow and arrows, eh?” Vincent ran his fingers over the artwork.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Looks familiar? My Grammy was an archer: my Mum, too. Comes down from both</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> sides. We believe archery teaches discipline and discretion. Guess I still need to work on the second, one, though.” My love was polite enough to simply shake his head with a tiny smile.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We were interrupted by two chiming phones. Vincent casually lifted his to his ear. Mine went silent as soon as he did. Men seem to have a way of raising the PHS, as if out of nowhere and answering, as if on an afterthought. His eyes narrowed for an instant, then he spoke quietly.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Yes, I suppose we can rendezvous right here. We will wait.” He snapped it shut.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">“The </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Great Blue will arrive shortly. The ladies want company on the rest of the journey home.” It was an announcement. He seemed a little put out, so I drew him aside.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Something wrong?” He shook his head and grimaced ironically. Then he whispered to me alone.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“I had wanted to make an exit soon. It was my plan to arrive home before dark.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Pffft! Is that all? You forget that our featherless friends can achieve breathtaking speeds. In fact, I’m not sure there is actually a limit to how fast they can go. It’s almost as if dragons fly just because they want to, not because they need to.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Josephine, that doesn’t make much sense, but if you say so…”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Don’t be dense, Vincent. You sound like you could use a dose of Akasha yourself.” I waggled my head at him, and he sighed.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Just th</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">e same, let’s plan of being back in Nibelheim before dinner.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Copy that, Commander! A glass of wine would be perfect before I return to feed Aerith G.” I ached for my little one as only a nursing mother could. It was fortunate that we lived communally, because that made me only a part-time mother. Our little one did not hunger in my absence. Nevertheless, the guilt suddenly washed over me again.<br /><br />“Yeah, we really need to get back to her.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Our Shy Gu</span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">y</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">While we waited for Desiree and Adrianna, Vincent and I went over the proposal with the townspeople. They readily accepted the idea and promised to follow up with the Cyans before the week was out. Everyone agreed that it was high time for the network to be revived among the ranchers and villages. Just as we finished nailing the details, Youshun shaded his eyes and pointed to the south. A small speck was rapidly growing on the horizon.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />The arrival of the Great Blue Northern Lindworm created almost as big a stir as ours had. Buddy was immense, even in comparison with Esmerelda, and especially against our little Spike. At that point, all the villagers moved directly in his direction, reaching up to help its riders down.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Adrianna did not move to dismount. Neither did she pay much attention to the proceedings in the little hamlet. At times she petted the great dragon’s neck, and sp</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">oke softly to him. I wondered if he were communicating with her, offering some solace to the widow. It was almost a shame they couldn’t take some time alone.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Buddy was not accustomed to crowds, even those few sightseers. He began to back away, and a rumbling hiss emanated from deep inside him. The townspeople sobered up instantly and ran to give him space. Esmerelda moved in a short, quick glide to his side and the two touched necks. That had a calming effect on Buddy and he seemed to visibly deflate and relax. Just two brave souls slowly returned to help the riders dismount. This time the festive mood was gone; they were being gentlemen, despite their fear. The rest watched, holding their collective breath.<br /><br />A low whist</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">le broke the silence. Desiree balanced herself against the proffered hands, using them to bounce into a flip over their heads. She landed gracefully feet-first, dropping into her usual four-point resting pose in the grass. The milling townspeople gave her plenty of room, duly impressed with her calisthenics, and respectful of her weapons. She pretended to ignore them, calling out to no one in particular.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Whoa, that was close. How the frig were we going to explain a deep-frozen village to the Generals? We’re in enough trouble already!” Desiree then sauntered over to us, lighting a cigarette. I turned on her.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">“I sincerely hope you weren’t smoking around Adrianna!” I couldn’t help myself; I remembered how difficult it was to be around the wranglers when I was pregnant.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Desiree was indignant.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“C‘mon, Fini. Uh, Commander, give me a little credit. I would never do anything to hurt her; we’ve been friends since we were tiny.” Then she lowered her voice, and her eyes sparkled.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“I don’t think Buddy will ever allow me a smoke on his back, anyway. It‘s his way </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">or the highway, and I don‘t want to get out and walk.” Her good humor was catching. Our union, as it were, of dragon riders, all understood one another: the dragons were the ones in control. We were only along for the ride.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />During our short conversation, our glittering green lady had convinced the Great Blue to approach the villagers again. A deferential hush fell over the entire company. There was a certain feeling of insignificance one felt standing next to the immense lizard. Buddy left everyone speechless, ourselves included.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Even Desiree eventually worked her way in silence through the</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> little mob and again mounted her steed. This time it was obvious that the dragon itself effected the action, and the crowd gasped. Pleased with the reaction, our scrappy friend was in her element and raised her voice to the skies.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“All right, Buddy! Time to go home; we want to be back before dark. Take us to Nibelheim!” The crowd cheered its approval as the blue behemoth rose straight up into the clouds, then hovered, waiting for us.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />One final round of handshakes, and we, too, made our escape. Everyone was glad to move</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> on.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">The trip high over the ocean promised to be a beautiful ending to an event-filled afternoon.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Nibelheim at night</span></span></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">For most of us, soaring far above the water removed any sense of leftover</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirk11nSi3VYs0YN6zk4zaMcoJLnMV6ToMKIkHDL4Oay9clkCu_6DTN4FpJgpuJ0Z86j0oi5tdEFD9Q-OKDDGQFY17xKrj_PqaHlZiZhtETBGLGgW7wdmDxklwO00xLq1GC5in3wCAvOkI/s1600-h/the+sunset.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 252px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214901871387796802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirk11nSi3VYs0YN6zk4zaMcoJLnMV6ToMKIkHDL4Oay9clkCu_6DTN4FpJgpuJ0Z86j0oi5tdEFD9Q-OKDDGQFY17xKrj_PqaHlZiZhtETBGLGgW7wdmDxklwO00xLq1GC5in3wCAvOkI/s320/the+sunset.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> sadness we may have felt. At least for the duration of our trip, we could simply enjoy owning the skies. The Central Continent, as always, was breathtaking in the fading light of late afternoon. The grasslands were brown and the woods were showin</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">g the same colors we had left behind in Junon.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Why don’t we move faster, Vincent? These babies can go at lightning speeds!” But my partner just grunted, and Esmerelda seemed to agree with him.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“We are in no hurry, Josephine. The darkness should be very pretty, don’t you think?” Pretty? Since when did pretty ever affect Vincent?</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“But the others are all moving a lot faster; they’re nearly out of sight.” Esmerelda was dropping lower to the ground as we passed over the Corelle area. She was deliberately allowing us to take in the landscape below.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“You guys are doing this on purpose! Have to admit it: it’s all gorgeous from up here.” By the light of the setting sun, the moisture in the air over Lucrecia’s waterfall became prisms, just as they had right after the Last Battle of the Northern Crater. This time we were not inside an airship, and we were nearly alone, Vincent and I. He pulled me closer as we shot through the rainbows, the air becoming noticeable cooler with the dampness.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Once we passed the rising mists of Lucrecia’s waterfall, the sun set in earnest; we would arrive in the dark.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Esmerelda kept her lazy pace and low altitude as we passed over the foothills east of Nibelheim.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Then I felt a small panic as I detected the growing scent of gunpowder. What’s more, I could see a brightly colored explosion in the air over the town.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />"Vincent! What the…? What is this?" </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">But already I could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest. Esmerelda, too, was screeching with glee, not at all afraid of the smoke.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> "Fireworks!"</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />The town below was completely lit with party lanterns, and colorfully-clad people were dancing in the square around the water tower. It, too, was festooned with lights, surrounded by wandering musicians who played their instruments while skillfully skirting tables that were heaped with food and rimmed with place settings and chairs.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Josephine, have you forgotten?” Only then did I remember. The harvest festival, specifically, the introduction of the Beaujolais Nouveau, was in full swing. Everyone was gathered around Buddy and Spike, celebrating the arrival of the remaining heroes.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">It was so much more than I could have hoped for, many months ago. Far from being objects of hate or dread, our dragons were honored guests, allowed to come into the town, or not, as they pleased. It was a homecoming for all of us, a wonderful bash comprised of eating, drinking, singing and dancing.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We landed on the edge of the festivities, carefully skirting the fireworks staging area. Once we dismounted, though, all our sparkling rides simply aimed for the hills, to escape the merriment. The larger ones moved ahead, with Sheol and the baby in tow. He was past his bed time, as pronounced by the squire, and she would return when he was safely asleep. Dragons are not famous for enjoying our noisy, rowdy parties, even if their riders might still be.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Adrianna, too, begged away from the crowds, slipping off as soon as they began to lose interest. We did not try to dissuade her. There would be plenty of time to sorrow tomorrow, as they say.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />This night was dedicated to celebrating <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">First Tastes</span>, the fruits of the harvest.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold">First Tastes</span></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Vincent was fully prepared to party with everyone, but I was not. I had known there would be a celebration, but I had not imagined the magnitude of it. No one was excluded, from the extremely aged to the very youngest. </span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Even my little Aerith G was placed into my arms as soon as I dismounted.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Nora laughed at my nonplussed expression, and disappeared into the crowd. It was the last I saw of her that evening.<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />My heart swelled to overflowing when I looked into our baby's dark eyes, all alight with the many lanterns and colorful fireworks. She was just a little afraid of the loud explosions and buried her face in my shoulder from time to time, eventually falling asleep, murmuring with the sound of each firecracker. Vincent led me to one of the long tables and we settled in for one of the largest picnics I ever attended. And certainly the only one taking place at nighttime.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />This was a harvest feast, every bit as sumptuous as our welcoming dinner in the Spring.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Right away I was practically forced to make an impossible choice. There was wild fowl roasted with fruit, dripping with a thick, wine-based onion gravy. I knew I had to have some of that, but there was also fin-fish kebabs breaded in beer batter, and served with plenty of white wine. All along the tables were large bowls full of beer-steamed crustaceans in a spicy sauce.<br /><br />The air was heavy with the scents of beer and wine; obviously the revelers had been sampling long before they sat down to eat in earnest.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Other dishes were scattered here and there, with beer soaked slaw, pleasantly warm and tangy. Naturally there were many platters brimming with fresh mixed greens, including my favorite stir-fry, in red wine vinaigrette. A huge vegetarian shepherd's pie sat in the very middle of each spread, already cut into sections, along with the usual ridiculously enormous selection from the local fields and orchards.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Finally, a side board was covered with seeded rolls, raisin loaf with locally dried grapes, and sweet bread topped with Rum Raisin sauce.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />And the alcoholic beverages flowed freely! Not a cork or bottle cap in sight; <em>First Tastes</em> featured only the freshest of drink offered in pitchers and flasks. The main attraction was the Beaujolais Nouveau. It made me smile to think we had lost an entire day of drinking: no wonder Vincent was irked. People constantly mentioned that I would want to save room for dessert, and that it would accompany the Beaujolais mulled with local wild berries.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />The biggest surprise for me was the inclusion of various beers and ales. Nibelheimers brewed year-round, so they are not restricted to any special season. Keeping with the spirit of the festival, however, they prepare a special variety of their beer every year. This time around the specialties were <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Lager Lindorm</span>, crisp and cold, perfect for the hot Nibel summer, along with <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Vincent's Best Bitters</span>, robust and cool. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Vincent sampled the bitters and then held his glass high over his head. The crowd responded with a loud "Prost!" Then they left him to make short work of the shepherd's pie and spicy crustaceans. We had avoided the food offered at the tavern, mostly because we were overseeing the town's visit with our dragons, so we were famished. He ate in serene silence, packing away an impressive two portions before reaching for the vegetables and more bitters.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />For my part, once I had settled the baby to nap in my lap, I started with mixed fresh greens, then attacked a small wild fowl in gravy. This time it wouldn't matter if the dish were gone way too soon: people were well in their cups and left us to enjoy our meal.<br /><br />At least until they saw me reach for the lager. I was slowly savoring just a half-glass, when I realized all eyes were on me, waiting. Following Vincent's lead, I raised the glass to the crowd, and pronounced it excellent. Once again they shouted a toast, finished their own drinks, and erupted in a wild cheer, celebrating the success of our new namesakes. After that, they again resumed their own eating with gusto.</span></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Relieved to no longer be the center of attention, I quietly handed the rest of the lager to Vincent. He responded somewhat reluctantly, having already drained a tankard.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />"Again? Josephine, do I have to slam your drinks tonight, too?"</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />"Please? It’s just a small glass and I want to try the mulled Beaujolais for dessert." </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">At that, Vincent drank the beer in his signature one-gulp. He later saw to it that I was given only a very small portion of the thick, warm drink made with my favored Beaujolais. That, barely a sip, and some lovely seeded bread with preserves, comprised a very sweet dessert, and left me sleepy and ready for bed.<br /><br />We watched the proceedings for a few more hours, sort of out of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">noblesse oblige</span>. Frankly, I wanted nothing more than a mattress and a comforter, and could have conked out right there amidst all the noise and bustle.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Late Night Celebration</span><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The fireworks began again at the first stroke of midnight. The party-goers had gotten more exuberant and even noisier as the evening progr</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-ABUtYMyh1220aDoa_q_ZoF0JfLUB3cxBVF0-9ONs3T78lMFw1WEGVv6S2D6akZNYl9a4yXbp33CDeKXkHW4wPyUqAjBmfgVg2YE7bDRA9kCgIObY4sVpYKa2hu0w_rawsZIx9SmNv0/s1600-h/fireworks.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 199px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215088199952238082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-ABUtYMyh1220aDoa_q_ZoF0JfLUB3cxBVF0-9ONs3T78lMFw1WEGVv6S2D6akZNYl9a4yXbp33CDeKXkHW4wPyUqAjBmfgVg2YE7bDRA9kCgIObY4sVpYKa2hu0w_rawsZIx9SmNv0/s320/fireworks.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">essed, and the bands seemed to crank up the volume in self-defence. This in turn sparked a new round of almost frantic folk song and dance, followe</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">d by some plain old rowdy rocking. Pretty soon only those sufficiently lubricated with the local potables could put up with all the overload of sound and physical energy. The rest of u</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">s would need to ramp up the alcohol if we wanted to continue the celebration.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We returned home before that could happen. Aerith had dozed off and on the entire evening; we felt that being out all night couldn't be good for her sleep patterns, especially in the middle of that bacchanalia. Besides, I wanted to be able to feed and bathe her, maybe give her a solid few hours of uninterrupted slumber in a quiet environment. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Vincent? Well, Vincent wanted what men usually want after a few drinks.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />And I heartily seconded that idea, shepherding both my loves out of the colorful chaos and on the path to the Keep. Our walk through the woods was accompanied by the sounds of leaves rustling at our ankles, and the occasional muted explosions echoing over the plaza behind us. Little by little, the raucous partying receded into the background.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />The woods were a welcome sanctuary from the barely controlled pandemonium in the town square. We could always expect a complete return to nature on the way home. The attitude adjustment was a welcome relief; I actually began to muse on the time of year. Soon there would be frost everywhere. For tonight, we could expect to find a chilly castle waiting for us; we would want to set a cozy, romantic tone. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Immediately on arrival, we dedicated ourselves to building a comfortably small fire on the living room hearth. The warmth would rise into the bedrooms, keeping them cozy long after the flames themselves died. We could set the central heat for the morning time, and escape the intermediate coolness under our comforters.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Aerith woke as we worked and visited a bit before I carried her upstairs for a quick shower, during which time we made silly noises at one another. This culminated with the inevitable blowing on the baby’s flabby stomach to produce rude sounds. Vincent was attracted by the laughter, and joined us for a quick rinse. Then we dried ourselves and settled in for one last feeding before bed time. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />As often happened with my previous babies, she began to coo and nod as soon as she was sated, her eyes rolling contentedly up under heavy lids. I handed her to Vincent for some quality time before she could drop off for the night, and the two of them brushed noses and murmured little nothings. It was a sight few people would ever see, that proud and grumpy warrior, cooing at and cuddling his little daughter.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We diapered her temporarily dry bottom, then wrapped her in a feathered bunting and lay her down in her crib. For a few minutes we simply watched our little miracle as she slept. I was comparing the two darker and hairier heads of my family, looking back and forth between them. After a bit, Vincent caught me at it, locking eyes with me and smiling; it was good to be home. As silently as we could, we sneaked down the stairs for a little fun and games in front of the fireplace.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />We stoked the fire, just a little; no sense in setting up new work to be done. Then we settled on the carpeting, moving as close as we dared, to keep our bodies warm. It had been days since we last had time alone in a truly private spot. From where we lay, the fire lit up the wall hangings and made the room feel intimate and safe and undeniably ours. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />So unusual to find ourselves in a fully secured area! There we had no enemies, no unpleasant surprises that could await us. Even if we wanted to take our lovemaking outdoors, we would be watched by the defense system. That thought made me shudder, though, since even our private activity could be monitored by the watchman. No, best to appreciate the warmth of our little fire inside the security and privacy of The Keep.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />And appreciate it we did! As usual, my lover began by ensuring that I was not chilled. Vincent himself was never cold. Even in the frigid blizzard-blown wastes of the Ice Cliffs on the Northern Continent, he stoically wore his short-sleeved uniform of the Nibel Militia. Actually I was the only one who opted to wear a parka; the rest just toughed it out, including Yuffie, our petite teenage ninja. Even then, long before he would let me know his romantic intentions, Vincent solicitously offered his cape to me, despite my heavy outerwear. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />That evening in front of the fire, we didn't need anything at all. We were warm and fed, happy to be away from the crowded square. The sounds of fireworks and the bands occasionally came to us through the intervening woodland. Even those noises died out eventually, leaving us to play in the quiet of our castle.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">During our late-night romp, I heard nothing except the velvet purring of Vincent in full seduction mode. He never said much out loud, just making a suggestion here and there, muttering words I could barely decipher. Occasionally he would grunt or sigh with pleasure. In return, I had long ago learned to silently accept his adoration, and our lovemaking usually progressed with very little dialog.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />His warm hands running over me, gently caressing me, made me feel as if he were many lovers, all there just for my pleasure. While the food and drinks had left me nearly in a stupor, our lovemaking aroused me enough to respond in kind.<br /><br />It seemed so natural to lie with him again, finding new ways to surprise and delight him. We never ran out of ideas when we were together, and that night was no exception. Should that ever occur, we could always fall back on the tried and true. In the middle of all our private celebration, Vincent seemed almost jovial, even good-natured. Our little excursion back on the road had relit a feeling of companionship. We were again comrades that had faced down danger together, and that seemed quite the aphrodisiac.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />In a nod to our night out under the stars, Vincent worked my limbs first, ensuring that I would be more than eager for us to get down the real deal. Pretty soon, though, I was in control and decided to take the lead. He seemed a little reluctant to give it up, until I forcibly pushed him down onto the carpet and fairly smothered him in a heated attack. When he tried to object, I stifled any complaints with a kiss that would have given him a whisker burn, if I had any, and left my own cheeks a little rosy from his.<br /><br />He pointed, chiding me for being a flushed little hussy. Deep, decidedly masculine laughter echoed in the spartan living room. Such a rare occurrence, even in these, the best of times. I poked him and told him not to be such a sexist. Who wouldn’t be a wanton with Vincent in her bed?</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />After a while we were both rolling around again like little kids, laughing and using up the rest of our second wind, finally quietly drowsing in front of the dying embers. Before we could drop off to sleep, we silently picked our way up to the master bedroom. There, we tucked ourselves under the coverlet, barely hitting the sheets before I lost consciousness.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Rude awakening</span></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />I couldn’t help the peevish tone in my voice as I spoke up in the dark room. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Vincent, why did you bring her to me? She’s absolutely soaked!” I hated to sound shrill, but the wet baby on my chest was an unwelcome invitation to extra work. The coverlet was already absorbing the dampness and would need to be laundered.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />First there was a heartbeat of silence. Then Vincent answered very slowly and in an uncharacteristically subdued tone. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Josephine. I did not bring her down here.” It was as if he were spooked. I sat straight up, pulling the kid to my chest protectively.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Then what the hell? Am I walking in my sleep?” I had done so as a child, and I dreaded the possibility. The answer came back with snapping certainty.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“No. You did not. I’ve been awake, eyes closed. You couldn’t leave the bed without my taking notice. I actually felt the baby settling in atop you.” He had turned on the bedstead light and rose straight up. He quickly moved to the stairways, first checking the upper levels and even the roof-way, then downstairs.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />As soon as he had inspected the upstairs, I took Aerith to her room and changed her diaper and bunting. Quiet and content; she surely wanted the change and seemed grateful for it. I could hear Vincent speaking to the Quartermaster on his PHS, and felt reassured that they could detect whoever it was that infiltrated our home. I then stripped our bed and lay our little one in the very middle, while we waited for him to return. He came back looking very, very thoughtfully at Aerith.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Nothing. There is no one else in the castle, and they tell me the radar is clear." He hesitated. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">“What just happened?”<br /><br />I shook my head in silence; there was nothing to say.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">At that point, my own personal device chimed, making me jump almost into Vincent’s arms. The baby cooed and turned in the direction of the sound. I stared at her as I reached to answer it.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Fini? This is Adrianna. Are you in trouble?”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">Her question astounded me. Then I remembered Vincent’s call to the Quartermaster.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“We don’t know yet. Are you at the base?”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“No, silly. I’m in bed, where I belong. There was a sudden discontinuity here in the valley. It was abrupt enough that I could feel it even as I slept; it woke me. It’s the main disadvantage of being so tightly in tune with the time-space continuum.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Um, if you say so.” What else could I answer?<br /><br />Her reaction was uncharacteristic. She was laughing at me, a giggly but throaty chuckle that caught even Aerith’s attention. Now the baby and her father were watching me intently, listening to Adrianna’s voice coming from the PHS. I held it away from my ear, so they could listen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">“You dummy. You should have known, both of you. We’ve been watching several weeks for something like this. When I called him, Sonny told me that things have been quiet since the festival; there is no one moving about at all. Not a soul. Then he told me that Vincent had called about a possible disturbance in the Keep. Let me guess: it’s Aerith.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Goddammit, Adrianna! Enough with the riddles! You tell me what just happened to Aerith!” Then the answer hit me. I hadn’t seen it because I didn’t want to know the obvious. Did Vincent guess what I had missed? I lowered my voice.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Never mind, kid. Sorry I yelled at you. She’s right here, watching our every move, and listening in on the conversation. I don't know how she managed, but she wished herself into our bed, apparently looking for a diaper change.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“Guess you will have a very small apprentice: very soon, because I don‘t think I‘m ready to handle a tiny time mage. She will make good company for your own unborn baby wizard. And we are going to be a couple of absolutely frazzled mommies.”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">At that point, Adrianna was chortling right into the PHS. Then she spoke quietly and very seriously.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“That’s what you think, Commander. I’m not taking on two of them by myself. You’d better make time to accompany her to classes, at least until we can awaken some of your own latent skills.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“In the meantime, you need to learn all you can about containing the little imp. Your first assignment will be to talk with the Lady Kameko--and my parents--about how it’s done. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />“You can get some sleep tonight after you stretch a net across the top of the crib. I will be by to inspect it in the morning, ten o’clock sharp. Now get back to bed; tomorrow’s going to be a very long day. Got all that?”</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />My reluctant answer was automatic. Still reluctant, though.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Yes, Ma’am. See you here tomorrow at ten.” The PHS went silent, so I replaced it on the night stand and stared at Vincent. We looked at each other for a few seconds, then we both looked at Aerith.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Of course, she never said anything, staring serenely back at us. Slowly, she raised her hand over her face. She moved her fingers a little bit, studying the action intently, and just as slowly inserted her thumb into her mouth. </span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Then Aerith G fell asleep.</span> </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Please click <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Older Posts</strong></span> to continue ---------------------->>></span></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7463612604478360707.post-18530853992930375502008-01-19T07:04:00.000-08:002010-03-01T07:11:42.053-08:00The Dragon Lady?<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">T</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">he inquiry came t</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">he day after the celebration, called by Generals Walter and Hildegarde Randolph, and standing as consultants were Commanders Vincent and Josephine Valentine. It was short and to the point: how to prevent the exposure of unborn babies in combat.<br /><br />In the case of the Battle at the Old Guard Ranch, both women (each cognizant of their pregnancy) were found at fault. For that matter, I, too, broke this common-sense rule when I healed Vincent in the battle against Buddy. On the other hand, there was no precedent to be found for it on the books; we needed a hard and fast law with specific procedures.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />A new directive was issued: pregnant women were banned from front-line duty. Interim training and administrative work, to prevent a loss of skills and a sense of disconnection during the term, became mandatory for those who declined gestational leave. Our two friends were advised of the directive and warned away from active warfare. Personally, I hope that it will never again apply to me, but who knows?</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The new ruling does affect Kulloden, inasmuch as we annexed the Junon fighters as a part of the militia. Since we had simply referred to ourselves as the Nibel Army, a new name would be needed for the outpost. Aika and Duane were invited to suggest or create a name, although their roles, either military or civilian, were not yet defined. They suggested Old Guard, to keep it simple. Final approval fell to our generals.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Despite our late night telecommunication, as commanders, we preferred to leave it to the Time Mage's discretion to take time alone to heal, and return to the militia on her own impetus. Adrianna Maestraeon, only a few months along in her pregnancy, was already a widow. She grieved publicly throughout, wearing black right up to delivery; Ken was her once-in-a-lifetime love.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Also left behind was an inconsolable Buddy, only recently trained to take his rider. While he willingly continued his alliance with the militia, he never related to another human as to Ken Woods. Instead, he built an entirely different relationship with the mercurial Sonny, who is always eager to enjoin battle, and immediately began to take him far and wide on quests. </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And so our Quartermaster got his wish; he does indeed ride a Great Northern Blue, sharing him with his likewise scrappy sister Desiree, both growing powerful on Buddy’s Akasha.</span></span><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Buddy had also trained to take Adrianna, although it would be months before she would be able to ride. The baby will, of course, be raised communally at the crèche, along with Aerith and all the other children born to Nibel militia. However, Adrianna swore she would never again go to war, preferring to remain in the village near the tapestry maker and her little one. She and Lady Kameko had always been close, and would become even closer, her sweet disposition an interesting counterpoint to the feisty crone's acerbic tirades.<br /><br /></span></span><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our very first session with little Aerith readily unlocked the key to my latent abilities. It was foolish of me not to make the connection: healing is not only based on Recovery magic, but also on the ability to manipulate time. Simply put, as I understand it, I speed up the patient’s own somatic processes. Not really anything magical about it; many herbalists do the same with natural plants, and anyone at all can learn to use Restorative materia.</span></span><br /></p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Simple, but not easy! It will take me a long time to fine-tune the new skill. Right now it is still only instinctual, but I am slowly gaining ground. Adrianna’s been patient with me, even while I’m being dense, and each new level of self-awareness opens more doors and windows into my own psyche. A bonus: no need to carry the extra materia; I hate all that armor, anyway.<br /></span></span><p align="left"></p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">It's all analogy really, and the toughest task is to try to anticipate just how my little monster intends to use it. When I am successful, I intercept her before she tries anything. When I fail, she surprises me with a previously unexpected reason to bend the time/space continuum.<br /><br />Sounds like gobbledegook? Just remember that everyone often accomplishes that asleep, and transcendental meditation is all about distorting reality. Perhaps that is how the Lady Kameko achieved such a ripe old age; maybe that is how I will do the same.</span><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">If that is to be my portion.</span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Adrianna was the logical heir to Shinju's ongoing legacy; the powerful mage seems born to become the town's protector. She, however, pooh-poohed the idea, saying she wanted nothing more than to raise Ken's child in peace and security, and simply watch the flow of time. Sounds like a truckload of chocobo guano to me; once a road warrior, always a road warrior, even for our mournful Maestraeon.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Sheol was another candidate. She had the opportunity to watch the maturation of a dragon chick right from hatching, actually becoming what we used to call a “squire.” Through her, entirely new avenues will open to dragon-enhanced warfa</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">re</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">; she is very tightly attuned to her charge and his abilities. It could be a long while before anyone else gets that chance, but, who knows? Dragon and rider are still both quite young, and will have decades together. With any luck, we are beginning a new dynasty of draco-human cooperation.</span></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; FONT-FAMILY: verdana" align="left"></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">So who is the Dragon Lady of Nibelheim?<br /><br />Damned if I know. Too soon to tell, although Vincent and I recently had a short conversation on the matter, while we were playing with our little Aerith G:</span></span> </div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"So, Josephine, are you up to becoming the next Shinju Kameko of our busy little hamlet?"</span></span> </div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Geez, Vincent, we shouldn’t speculate on such things, not while she's still alive and kicking. Now that you mention it, though, I'm not so sure I <em>want</em> to fill the town with a bunch of bossy, self-satisfied males." The answer came right back, without missing a beat.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />"Not to mention a bumper crop of flighty, opinionated females!" Humph. Always the last word.</span></span><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />No doubt that could be one result of our uneasy alliance.<br /><br />Can we stand one another long enough to find out?<br /></span></span></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com