Celes Chere was no stranger to comments of her gender. As a child, she had always been considered "cute," even with her scientific altering. Once she began her training in the Imperial army, she became known for her peculiar strength "for a girl." Though women were by no means an oddity in the armed forces of Vector, they were still enough of a minority to give the men pause. She had grown used to their calls of "ice queen" or, even more blatantly, "bitch." She would not date them, so she was "choosy." She did not try to please them, so she was "stuck-up." Before long, their terms ceased to mean anything to her at all. As a general, she commanded respect through both strength and a certain domination of the weak-willed. Had any of her men tried saying their gossip to her face, they would have regretted ever being enlisted. Of course, that respect had fallen away the moment that the Empire had turned on her (or rather, she had turned on it), and then she got to hear what the men really thought of her. It seemed that intimidation could only get one so far and that certain labels never died.

Alone in these strange woods, Celes would not have expected to be confronted with those labels again. She should have been relieved to hear a voice calling through the trees. In her condition, she was in no state to reject aid, and without knowledge of the situation, there was little she could do on her own but wander at random. Still, had she been given the choice of possible allies, she would not have chosen a man such as this. 

A glance proved him simple. He wore loose-fitting pants and an open shirt tied at the waist. His stature reminded Celes mostly of Sabin, from body-building frame to shaggy blonde hair. His muscles bulged from his arms and chest, and it was quite obvious from his more than lax approach to clothing that he wanted more than anything to show it off. From his gloves and physique, Celes guessed that he was the same kind of hands-on fighter as a certain Figaro. She doubted that even Sabin would be so stupid to address her as he chose to, however. 

"Greetings," he said, "It is not often a maiden chooses to sleep outdoors like this."

Celes wasn't sure which part of his babbling to object to first. Mostly, she was simply taken aback. Upon awakening in this strange place, she would have expected hostility, urgency, or even confusion from any she came across. She had not expected such a casual introduction nor for her gender to take precedence over her situation. It was with only the slightest indignation that she spat out, "Well I didn't choose to," before adding, "And I'm not some maiden, either." When was the last time she had even heard that word? In bed-time stories? Fairy tales? He acted as though she was a mere damsel in distress, or perhaps some silly woman lost due to her own stupidity. The idea was absurd. 

"Who are you?" she demanded before he could respond. "And where are we? I've never seen this place before in my life." She didn't mention that its very existence should have proven impossible. That should have been obvious to anyone.

Nor did she mention her name. During the war, the title of General Celes had proven quite infamous. Even after her defection, many were still hostile while still more refused to trust her. After Kefka's ascension, her previous title became useless to most, but she had gained a different kind of infamy among those supporters of the mad god. Either way she viewed it, her identity was not one to be given lightly, and particularly not without a drawn sword. She kept a hand on the hilt even as she spoke to this man. In a world of thieves and bandits, one did not lose one's defenses when approached alone in the wilderness.

The man's very next words proved Celes entirely wrong about his character. This man was not like Sabin Rene Figaro at all.

He was even worse. 

Though he tried to apologize for what he acknowledged as unacceptable behavior, he did so in one of the most brutish and undignified manners she had ever witnessed. He stood with his casual stance of idle disregard and, for some reason she couldn't understand,  hadn't thought to remove a piece of dry meat from his mouth before speaking. "Forgive me. I did not think of calling you so to be rude. It seemed I was wrong." All while he said it, the meat dangled from the corner of his mouth, wagging like a tail for every word as it caught on his teeth. She wondered if this man had ever even heard of society or if he had been raised in the wild like that Veldt child, Gau. Only Gau would have such blatant disregard for social courtesies paired with a strange obsession with meat. Celes half expected the man to hunch over and crawl along like an animal. Despite the forest's thick underbrush and spiny foliage, the man wore no shoes. His feet were calloused over in flaking white blisters and thick skin. 

He had the courtesy to introduce himself, at least. Celes had never heard of a "Douken Sota," nor did she understand what he meant by "traveling monk." She assumed that it was a self-assigned title, like Locke's favorite of "treasure hunter." From what she could tell, he seemed to be some kind of traveling fighter, as Sabin had been, roaming the world to learn more at his craft. She suddenly wished that she had listened more to what Sabin had told them on the subject. He had mentioned a certain Master Duncan and Duncan's son, Zangan, who Sabin had apparently trained with and been forced to kill. The tragedy of the story had stuck in her mind, but as for his actual craft, she usually lost interest. Back when their occupations had still mattered, she was never the one he spoke to directly, and she had usually held little patience for such simple topics. 

Perhaps they could have found a starting point of common interest had he not then pulled the meat from his mouth, ripped it in half, and held one of the spit-addled pieces out to her as though fully expecting her to take it.

"It may not be much, but can you place this as a sign of good faith?"

Celes could only stare at the meat, disgust rising visibly. Her general instincts called for the discipline of this man she had just met. They called for her to instruct some order into this half-wild man when interacting with strangers. Another part of her -- the Returner part -- soothingly reminded her that Gau had once done something of the same. While she had looked upon the boy's offer with disgust, it was important to remember the intention behind such things. Gau had tried to give her what he cared about most. To this man, his disgusting meat seemed to operate as some kind of peace offering. Besides, it wasn't so long ago that she might have been grateful for such an offer. With the world in ruin, there wasn't a single person who had completely escaped the pain of hunger. 

Celes wasn't quite so desperate anymore, however, so she declined with a short,"No thank you." It was the most polite response she could muster.

He ate the other half without even waiting for a response. At the very least, he finished chewing before attempting to speak again, but as for what he had to say, there wasn't much she could learn from it. 

"All I can tell you about where we are is: not your home nor mine. Other than that, I, too, am seeking answers of where this is. If I had more answers, I would be glad to share them with you."

Neither his home nor hers? She wondered as to what he presumed to be her home. While this forest was certainly not it, that seemed like one of the least helpful responses she had ever faced. Unless he meant it philosophically (and she did not take him as a philosopher), Celes could only file his response as utterly useless. Her eyebrows furrowed in distaste.

"This is clearly some kind of forest," she said, "It must have been spared the Light of Judgment." That was the only answer she could think of. But how many times had she traveled the distance of the world? Would she not have noticed a forest as thick as this still alive and growing in their dead world? "I woke up over here, but I don't know why. I keep trying to remember what I was doing, but my head..." She frowned. Despite the healing magic, her head was still swimming. She remembered the wastelands made of the world. She remembered how she had gathered most of her friends, but after that, it was all a haze. Had she fallen from the airship and hit her head? Was she lucky to be alive?

The man (Douken, as he'd introduced himself) leaned casually against a tree trunk. "I have made my introductions, would it be too much to ask for yours?" So he hadn't recognized her. Her grip loosened on her sword. 

"It doesn't matter who I was," she said. "I was once involved with the Empire, if that means anything to you, but all of that's over. I want to help the world." She paused. No, more than anything, she wanted something else right now. "Can you lead me out of here? I have friends to meet, and I'd rather not keep them waiting."

From the moment Celes had met the man, he had done nothing but confuse, offend, and disgust her. As he leaned against his tree and answered her concerns, however, the source of her revulsion became entirely clear. 

Douken Sota, it seemed, had gone completely insane.

"It does not mean anything to me," he said, and though she might have taken this to mean that her previous alignments did not bother him, he then continued, "For my world had no Empire to fear from." 

Was he referring to his time as a "traveling monk"? Had he somehow managed to evade the Gestahlian Empire's influences on his journey? But no, that did not appear to be the case. "The Kingdom of Cornelia was kind and one with its people, not afraid to walk in public and commute with the townsfolk," he said, and before she could ask what he thought he was blabbering about, he told her, "I have also heard no rumors of a corrupt empire."

The devastation to the planet had clearly caused this man to lose his senses. How else could he never have heard of an empire which had once spanned the entire world? Why else would he be going on about kingdoms which had never existed? He directed her towards a "trade city" to the North. Provo, he called it, though Celes had never read of such a place. Apparently it was a two day's walk, but why had he come so far in that case, and why was he wandering around alone and unarmed? She thought to ask if he lived somewhere closer, but thought better of it. Perhaps she would do better on her own than with a delusional man whose sense of reality had been so utterly broken. He told her that searching for her friends was useless. "For all we know, they could be elsewhere in this world, or not here at all,” he told her, but she had already found them. Her friends had scattered upon the world's destruction, but they had not left it. Sabin had used his strength to aid the most needy of survivors, Setzer had lost hope and drank his problems away, and Locke...

Well, Locke had taken to searching for what mattered most to him -- what had always mattered most. How could she blame him for that?

"They're alive," Celes told him. "And I will find them." If she had fallen off the airship, then they were probably looking for her. Yes, if she could only escape this forest, she was certain she'd find them, shocked and waiting. She had survived worse falls before, after all.

Much worse.

He asked for her name again. "If you will not tell me who you were, will you tell me who you are?" While she didn't plan to stay in his company for any longer than necessary, he did have a point. Regardless, what use was it hiding her identity from a man who had never even heard of the Empire?

"My name is Celes Chere," she told him. Though she reasoned she had nothing to hide, caution kept her voice cool and indifferent. "I am a capable fighter and hope to give the world a second chance." It was the first time she had ever introduced herself like this. She wasn't a General nor was she a traitor. She was merely Celes, and she had her own goals for the world -- she aimed to stop what she hadn't been able to prevent and what she might have even caused. 

"If that's all that you can tell me, then I'll be leaving," she said. If he was to be believed, it was proper to head North. Without any other direction, it would have to do. "Thanks for the help, but I think I'll be f-" she started, but a sudden noise stopped her. It was a loud crunching followed by a series of deep grunts. It came from directly behind her, and as quickly as she whipped around, it was not quickly enough to see the beast before it gave a bellowing roar and charged straight for her. 

Her eyes widened. "What the-?!" she started before hard instinct kicked in. In her condition, she did not have the time to dodge this rampaging creature completely. Instead, she side-stepped its blow so that it was the monster's bulging shoulder rather than its horns that caught her. The force threw her sideways until she landed hard into the trunk of a tree. She quickly braced herself against it and pulled for her sword. It came easily into her hand even as her other arm dangled uselessly at her side. With a quick grit of her teeth, she stumbled forward and took in the beast in its full form.

It was a hulking creature, maybe eight feet in height, that might have been human but for its size, coloration, head. Its muscles rivaled that of the monk's threefold and it was covered in tan hair sprouting from its neck, hips, and ankles. Its face elongated into a thick snout which almost masked protruding teeth. On its head were two curved horns, not unlike that of cattle. It raised itself to its full height, raised its arms above its head, and roared. 

"What is that thing?" Celes asked more to herself than the man she had been eager to leave. She had certainly never seen it and couldn't remember a weakness or attack pattern to save her life. She didn't need it though. Almost everything alive -- be it monster or human -- had a weakness to magic. With sword still in hand, Celes began muttering the incantations to awaken the espers inside of her. When she called, she could almost hear them answer.

"Blizzaga!" she cried when the power had built to a freezing burst. It left her in a sudden rush of energy. The air chilled. What had been a cool spring afternoon could have suddenly been the middle of January. The magic centered around the beast and then sharpened in a quick, life-draining exodus of heat. The monster howled in pain. Celes readied her sword and checked the damage to her arm. The skin had been scraped and beneath the streaks of blood, a violet bruise was already beginning to form. Celes fought back a wince and touched the wound. "Cure," she commanded, and the pain lessened. Broken skin mended. It was only a quick fix, however. She had more important matters to attend to. 

"If you're a man, then fight it!" she called to the so-called monk. Insane or not, if he could fight then she would accept the help. Even if she could probably handle it on her own.

[[OOC: Lol! When I was checking the monster stats, apparently the original NES didn't really DO magical defense, and that's the one I checked. xD So I had no idea it had an absurdly high magical defense. Um. Well, she used a level three ice spell and has magic stats from the end of the game. So I'm going to say it gave the monster pause anyway. xD Because she's awesome. Maybe she had earrings equipped. Yeah, that's it...]]

If nothing else, it appeared that Douken Sota knew his way around combat. Just as his absurdly toned muscles and careless attitude suggested, he appeared to be a highly trained fighter with no small amount of skill. He moved quickly at her call to action, raising his fists and nimbly dodging its attack before moving into melee range and delivering several quick blows with his fists. Celes would have called this suicidal if it didn't appear to have worked. Even Sabin used punching spikes or bronze knuckles when attempting to fight monsters hand-to-hand. To attempt to physically beat the beast to death without a single weapon sounded almost crazier than his made-up kingdoms. Almost.

Sota had told her that the monster was called a "minotaur," though she had never heard of it. Indeed, the creature before might have resembled a behemoth if it was larger and of a different complexion. She assumed the two must be related, though she certainly didn't remember behemoths sharing a resiliency towards magic. Why should they? Magic was something of express rarity in the world, of which very few creatures had built an immunity to. She was surprised that the monk had even recognized her power for what it was. At the very least, he should have seemed more surprised about it. 

Still, he appeared to be proven correct in his assessment when the monster merely shrugged off her high level attack. She had felt the drain of magical fatigue, released a magic strong enough to give even a behemoth pause, and yet this beast shrugged it off with only enough hesitation to allow her a cure spell. Her eyebrows furrowed as she gripped her sword tightly at her side. So her greatest power had proven next to useless. Thankfully, she was no stranger to a blade.

"Use its size to your advantage!" Douken told her. It was elementary advice applicable to any fight against a larger opponent, and he seemed to be taking it in stride. He had drawn its attention away from her, and as it charged after him, it couldn't quite seem to maneuver around the underbrush and trees. It took to ripping branches and saplings completely aside, so enraged by his strikes that it noticed little else. Leaves, brambles, and ivy flew through the air like a miniature cyclone. It didn't notice her standing with a sword at its back. She took that as an opportune time to strike.

Her runic blade sliced into the enemy's flesh with ease. It cut deep between ribs, burning with its own special magic she had absorbed from her enemies over the years. The monster gave a screech of pain and scrabbled backwards at her, but she dodged away towards the safety of the trees. The blow had hurt, she knew. Perhaps it would even kill it with time, but it was not the kind of wound that would take immediate effect. If they were to end this quickly, she needed a smarter blow in its stomach, lungs, or neck. At the very least, they could wear it down as she cut into it over and over again. 

She wiped thick splatterings of blood from her cheek. "Hit it again!" she called, "Keep it distracted! I'll stay at its back!"