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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr="class","character-spring-1c"]“A Garden of Thorns”
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]There it was. That bitter, dry laugh when he was in a mood. She kept herself in check and simply let him speak. Some of her own morals wanted to scream. Instead, she sipped on her wine and tried to push them to the back of her mind to simply listen. She tried to put herself in his shoes.
She found a bench by the fountain and took a seat. Perhaps, his shoes would be more comfortable than her own anyway.
When he spoke, the undertone of his cynicism was touched with a bit of disconsolation and loneliness.
When he finally finished, there was a pause and she gave him that soft smile. “It appears we are not well-suited for light conversations.”
She took a breath and looked up at the sky, trying some gentle humor. “Though the analogy of Condie Petie is a bit unfair. We both know that if any charming lady rally-ho’ed, all she would receive is offers of marriage to their sons.” They would never hear a word she had to say, nor would they be focused on such technical matters. She had looked into them after the mist began to recede and travel became safer. She was also quite fond of reading Ipsen’s travel journals, and Garnet’s stories encouraged her to branch more into what was in the world beyond.
Ah, she figured a joke might help break up the sudden heaviness of the conversation.
“However, I understand your point. It is true without manuscripts, blueprints, and the technology itself in front of me...it is hard to envision. I would not know where to begin imagining if I had not seen a part of it myself.” She would not pretend to know something she obviously did not. Nor was she too prideful to learn more. Even simply trying to understand that Terra was a living interstellar parasite feeding on Gaia was a bit much to take in. But she could visualize parts of it in her head. “I still appreciate the time you took to indulge me. It gives me much food for thought.”
A desperate people trying to survive. Gaia had not been their first choice, but it was their last effort to survive. They had to harvest Gaia's core in order to survive, which meant cataclysm on both sides. It was terrifying to think that this was happening without anyone really being aware, except for the Terrans.
She wondered how Zidane and Mikoto felt about this sudden loss of Terra. It sounded like the struggle, however, was not with the survival of the planet, but one with this creator.
“I remember the black mages.” She turned a few of them into oglops when they didn’t stop staring at her in the library during their watch. “You state that barring a rare malfunction, they lacked true sentience. Though I agree a majority of them behaved like automatons, I disagree the others were ‘malfunctions’. They truly did begin to gain sentience. They understood fear and death...and wanted to keep their lives.” To see such a change in them... How they cowered from Kuja when he lost his temper… “I’m told they even developed their own village and defense mechanisms. Only intelligent creatures evolve into building their own communities… That’s no malfunction. That’s a miracle at work.They gained something that had not been installed there before.” Even Kuja couldn’t explain that.
She shook her head softly and looked down at her glass. She wanted to cry that her airships might not feel loss, but her people did. The airmen on those ships did. The refugees from Burmecia did. But that was not the point he was trying to make. He simply meant that there was nothing there to experience Terra’s loss except machines. But there were a very few living, breathing souls there. “You include the genomes with souls to airships in this comparison. But you are no machine. Artificial or not, you feel and have desires. You were not acting like a machine when you defied this creator.”
“Remember that day you returned to the palace gravely injured? You were in quite a foul mood.” Hilda did not forget, she had not seen him return in such a state before. “This creator did that to you, didn’t he?” How could someone do that to their own creation? Was this why Kuja took his frustrations out on the Black Mages? “I did not truly realize the gravity of this fight of yours until that moment.” She softened a little.
She took a deep breath to enjoy the fragrant wind and hummed thoughtfully, “Your words remind me of another poem…” He told her so much, she honestly hadn’t an idea where to start. She’ll probably have more to add after she had a few moments to process what he just told her. But this poem came to mind after hearing it all.
‘Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel sole, bewinged, bedight In veil, and drowned in tears, Sits in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres.’
He said it was hardly a loss...which meant it still felt like a loss. “Now that you are free from the cataclysm and no longer working as an agent of assimilation, what will you do?” He said he was strongly lacking in motives. She smiled at him as she set aside her empty cup. “I did say I would help you find some inspiration.”
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"]Kuja • I hope this ends up with them learning something from the other.
[attr=class,bulk] Hilda listened. He wasn’t entirely certain that she would, given his generally derisive tone. She may have asked for his story, but that didn’t mean that she had to accept it, let alone comprehend it. Yet Hilda listened. She sat perched on one of the garden’s stone benches, roughly hewn like a ritualistic altar. Kuja remained standing, head tilted and arms crossed as he barely restrained a scowl.
How strange it was to tell his secrets in the light of day. In public no less! There was something different here from the ethereal, labyrinthine halls of his palace. That had been his space, a place without intrusion or vulnerability, but here in this bustling garden of the arts…
It felt as though anyone could be listening. He fought the urge to glance cautiously towards the skies.
’The Gaians are enemies of Terra, but they are ignorant of such truths. They will fuel the cycle and Terra’s rebirth. If they were to learn of their fate…’
Kuja’s nails dug into the fabric of his sleeve. Hilda was speaking.
She began with a humorous dismantling of his analogy followed by some concessions of understanding. She thanked him of all the things for ‘taking the time to indulge her.’ Truly, she was a diplomat through and through, a woman whose only power stemmed from words and status. It wasn’t a terrible strategy if she intended to keep his attention long enough to sway him to other matters.
Lies, truth, and secrets. What did any of it matter now? Even if they weren’t both stranded on this unfamiliar planet, Gaia had already broken the yokes of its master. Terra’s plan had failed. Five thousand years of work wasted, a long-dormant population of souls extinguished in a single moment of passion at the hands of a broken tool.
Garland had called him a defect. His soul was defective. Because he was unstable. Because he’d never unlocked the secrets of Trance.
Kuja scoffed at Hilda’s protests. ”Miracles, malfunctions, it’s all the same,” he said. ”The Black Mages weren’t meant to gain souls, and yet they did. Gaia’s atmosphere is far more spiritual rich than that of Terra’s, and their make was far shoddier than any genome. Souls naturally seek a host. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, Gaian souls would come to inhabit the mages at a rate of approximately one per every two hundred produced. An acceptable margin of error given their purpose.”
Miracles were merely a phenomena proclaimed by those too ignorant and incurious to imagine a rational cause. Though it seemed Hilda wasn’t incapable of coming to her own conclusions.
”I didn’t mean the genomes with souls. Were you listening?” Kuja pushed back his bangs, flipping them to the side. ”Zidane, Mikoto, and I were the only ones granted such a thing. The rest were nothing more than machines, entirely incapable of their own self-preservation let alone a strong emotional response. Of course I’m better than-”
”Remember that day you returned to the palace gravely injured? You were in quite a foul mood. This creator did that to you, didn’t he?”
”I…”
Kuja trailed off, momentarily stunned. She remembered that? To her, it must have been nothing more than one of his mysterious appearances after he’d left for one reason or another. She’d had no way to comprehend the full scale of the situation even if he’d felt like telling her that Alexandria had fallen -- which of course, he hadn’t. He’d simply stormed into the hall of his palace, heart still racing, knowing that after all of his attempts at power, after all of his devotion to secrecy, that finally his traitorous thoughts had come to light. How long had Garland known what Kuja had been planning? How long had he waited to quell Kuja’s final moment of triumph?
”Your words remind me of another poem,” Hilda went on. True to her nature, Hilda’s recitation was as eloquent as it was apt. ’An angel sole, bewinged, bedight in veil, and drowned in tears.’
Him? In tears? He was as incapable of grief as he was of remorse. He touched his forehead and laughed quietly.
”’Free of cataclysm.’ ‘An agent of assimilation.’” Strange, the words she chose. As though he were some victim in it all. ”I told you, I don’t know. I’ve worked well enough in my craft to make something of a living. I’ve unleashed some horrors upon the world for my own personal gain. But I lack, well…” His lips turned in an ironic smile. ”Purpose, I suppose.”
Purpose. How he hated the word! It had been ingrained in him from his moment of awakening. The reason for his creation. The sole meaning of his existence.
”Whether I sought to pursue or defy it, it always hung above my head with its hateful smile! Now it’s all meaningless! What am I supposed to…?” Kuja stopped and closed his eyes, laughing louder. ”Why am I telling you any of this?”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@ladyhilda
Holy shit, he's being honest. Out loud. Miracles really do exist.
[attr="class","character-spring-1c"]“A Garden of Thorns”
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]Kuja filled the silence with his own conjectures. Miracles and malfunctions were the same to him. So, she stood corrected. He could explain it, but he left the wonder and fun out of it. Was it still not an amazing accomplishment to see life form in front of you? It didn’t matter if it was in a womb or a scientific incubator, life was precious and beautiful.
Further, he asked if she had been listening. She had. It seemed he had not caught her drift in her words. That perhaps Terra had been a loss to him, Zidane, and Mikoto. She held her tongue for now. There would be other ways to reflect on it.
What proved interesting was she was able to stun him back into silence. What a rare turn of events. She watched his expression carefully, wondering what he was thinking.
She had not been sure until now that it was his creator. She gathered clues at the time. He told her a little of Terra and that he was trying to gain a greater destructive power from Gaia. He never told her what this power was for, though it could not have been for any Gaian foe. No, he already knew how to bend Gaian whims and tear them apart without needing more power. It had to be something about Terra. Whispers of sentient black mages, the way he treated his creations, and the antics of Zorn and Thorn helped fuel her suspicions.
But talking with him today confirmed it. She did not press for the signs were clear. He fell silent and his sight had that distant stare into seemingly nothing. Or rather, he saw into the past. His hands gripped his sleeves and then he went into his mirthless laughing.
He lost his manners after all. Seemingly impolitely, laughing at her poetry now, just as he had her invite.
She did rather like that poem. The full length of it showed angels preparing the world for the final leg of destruction by the all-devouring, red-writhing conqueror worm. A poem of true horrific beauty.
...Some intuition told her the laugh wasn’t truly at her recital. She further kept her silence and soon he laid his truth bare.
The truth she saw at the very beginning of the meeting. The reason she honestly believed him. Not because she thought he was broken. No. More deeply, it was because she felt the same now that she had been forcibly removed from Lindblum. The lack of a concrete purpose to keep her busy. A purpose to keep her mind from going idle.
His maddening tittering rang through the crisp air. She could feel more eyes turning on them. She gave a side glance to confirm the discontent whispering at those being disturbed from their art critiques. There was a tapping as she rose to her feet. She stood before him, her delicate palm reaching up for his cheek and brushing back his hair. Her other hand touching at this elbow, as she looked up into his face. She could feel the chaotic, alien magic radiating from him. Her own healing aura mingled as she didn’t shy away.
She hoped the connection would anchor him back to the present. “It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” She gave a soft, sad smile. “They raise and groom us. They mold us for a specific job. That we should yield ourselves to the entire existence of others. They call it our purpose. Condition us to the word.” She gave a slow sigh from parted lips and removed her hand from his cheek to meet at his other elbow. Her posture opened itself to him. She was here for him.
“They were greatly mistaken. No one can give you or I a purpose. It is something an individual needs to find for themselves, should they desire it.” She shook her head now, her cheeks still touched by the alcohol. It made her think too much. Made her speak too freely. “It’s not meaningless, dear angel. It is just a journey to find life’s meaning and what makes us feel fulfilled. Just like any process in alchemy and magic requires us to take the first steps to discovery.”
She released him gently, only to stand beside him and look towards the park entrance. Her eyes lingered above the park line to Torensten’s rising towers and the air trains. “Cid has found enjoyment in his engineering. But engineering is not his purpose, it is his talent and hobby. But he was able to give it meaning by expanding on his father’s work. Moreso, he made an impact on those around him. He created air trains to connect people. Improved airships and built steel walls to protect and bring resources to Lindblum. He created the first ships powered by steam instead of the venomous mist to protect the airmen and passengers from further harm. He found his purpose in using his talents to connect and protect others.”
She paused and looked away from the city. Her clear eyes turned to look back at Kuja. “Terra is not completely destroyed. It still lives in you and two others. You could use your talents to make an impact. Perhaps, no one will truly come to understand Terran technology as you. It doesn’t mean they can’t come to understand its conveniences. After all, not everyone knows how an airship works, but people still fly.” She lowered her lashes and turned to walk away on the paved white path. The path seemed too bright now. She wondered if he would laugh at her again. Find her too soft and full of nonsense. Or if he would be angry and stamp away. He was free to listen or go.
“It may benefit you to see structures of your own make come to life. If not for you, then it may help Mikoto in her transition to this new world.”
She took a few, clicking steps only to stop and raise her eyes to the sun glittering through the trees. Her hands were neatly folded in front of her. “I have no purpose, too. However, I look forward to finally getting the opportunity to find it. I wouldn’t mind a companion to aid in the endeavor.” She felt like she had talked too long now. “I don’t care if it’s a risk either, you needn’t remind me.” She stated cheekily before closing her eyes. The sweet scent blew on the wind and she breathed it. A leap of faith it seemed. “Before we part today, I wish to bequeath an item to you, if it pleases you to accept it.”
For a moment, Kuja simply froze, too surprised to say much of anything. He should have brushed her away. He should have scowled and retorted with something biting, but he didn’t. Instead, he only looked at her, eyebrows raised, more confused than anything.
Her gesture felt almost intimate. But why…?
”It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” she said with a gentle smile. ”They raise and groom us. They mold us for a specific job. That we should yield ourselves to the entire existence of others. They call it our purpose. Condition us to the word.” She pulled her hand back, instead opting to anchor herself on both of his arms.
His eyes narrowed. ’Terrifying?’
He was not terrified.
”Really.” He listened as she went on about all the many purposes one could find for oneself in life. That moustache-clad tool of a regent was able to fulfill himself by using his talents to help the masses. How nice. She turned her eyes back to him. He felt the fur of his tail bristle in irritation.
”But what if I would rather it be destroyed? Completely?” The way that she said it, Terra wouldn’t truly die until all those descended from it were less than a memory. Kuja chose not to entertain that idea. He so hated when his desires were in conflict.
He wanted Terra to vanish into utter irrelevance, but was he not its strongest living legacy? He supposed a strong bout of amnesia would do the trick, but he didn’t want that either. He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to die. All that he wanted was…
Vengeance. But tearing that place apart hadn’t been enough. He’d unleashed every last passionate shred of his hatred upon that dreadful planet, yet he still wasn’t satisfied. Perhaps if Garland had had the decency to admit defeat and beg for his life a little longer…
Hilda took a few steps away like an actress pacing past her mark on stage. She made a proposition. Kuja raised an eyebrow.
”You ask for a companion, and you’d offer the position to me?” Kuja scowled and shook his head. ”I really don’t understand you.” Still, he moved to follow her despite his disdain. She had a way of stringing him along.
”You should know that I have no interest in helping the general public. While it might have satisfied your toad of a husband, philanthropy is nothing to me but a fool’s game.” And it certainly wouldn’t do for some self-made purpose. No, if he were to find some new goal for himself, it would have to be of benefit to him. But nothing seemed of much benefit now, so far removed from Gaia and Terra and every previous reality of his life. He could strive towards riches or fame, but that all felt strangely hollow.
”Fine. What is it then?” Kuja sighed and held out a hand. ”Your gift? I can’t say you haven’t caught my interest.”
[attr="class","character-spring-1c"]“A Garden of Thorns”
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]He went from his maniacal laughter to surprise to his bitterness once more. She honestly never met someone who could have so many mood swings in the time it took to take a deep breath and let it out. Still, he chose to listen, even if he did not agree with her. He did not look away and she felt her heartbeat hard in her chest. It must have been from his unnerving gaze and the many expressions it held.
The clouds darkened the sky for a moment as Kuja spoke about destruction. Even as he said he would rather it be completely destroyed, she did not flinch. She only had a slight frown touch her lips. “Is Terra’s total destruction what you want?” She returned his question like a mirror would a reflection.
“If I may play devil’s advocate…” Ah. Debates. She loved counterarguing. His response also left her worried for Mikoto’s safety. Did he mean to ruin her? “From what I observed, you achieved your desire. It left you unsatisfied, did it not?” She paused for a moment to let the question sit. “Do you truly want all of it destroyed? Even the science, the technology, the palace, the texts...the survivors?”
She gave a soft sigh and looked down at the road. “When those are gone, will your anger abate? What will you do when it does not?” She shook her head gently. Destruction only led to more hurt. “I cannot tell you what you want. That is for you to decide.” She knew his hate and anger consumed him. She had to sit during his passionate tirades.
The clouds shifted and the path between them lit again. She could hear the clicking of his steps as he trailed behind him. She smiled coyly as he scowled at her, voicing he didn’t understand her. “You never took the time to bother.” She was cheeky now. She decided not to clarify her reasoning. Her ‘gift’ would do that for her.
She turned to him and she gave a slight huff. “I know you are nothing like my sweet froggy, woggy.” How could she think of anything other? “It was merely an example of talents versus purpose. Cause and effect. Only, you get to decide what effect is satisfactory to you.” She gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders. But that was his dilemma, wasn’t it? He would only discover such things through trial and error.
She came to a stop under a flowering tree. He held out his hand for the gift. For a moment, only the wind stirred between them. She calmly regarded him and his outstretched hand. Then a smile cracked on her face. “You look like a Gimme Cat. Shall I give you a diamond, then? Once received, will you laugh and saunter away with your caught prey in tow?” She was teasing him now to soften the mood.
A gentle chuckle left her lips and she gave a soft, melodic whistle. After a moment, a little automaton bird flew to her shoulder. It was designed to look like a white and brass songbird. It’s head swiveled as it seemed to nip at its faux wings. Between its wings was a gem charged with a little bit of air magic. It’s eyes also gave an occasional flicker, charged with scan magic, “I’ve not the skill of my husband, but I have learned a little.” She stated humbly as she lifted a finger to the bird. It hopped onto her finger. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to have a lock of her hair tied about its neck.
“With a bit of assistance from the university, I developed a prototype messenger bird. It uses scan magic to find its recipient. But it requires something of the person to scan. Otherwise it goes directly to the university’s aviary.” She passed him the gift. “This one is programmed to come to me.”
“Of course, I have the first letter to start you off.” With a bit of float magic, she made a gentle gesture over her corset. Out slipped a letter. The letter was obviously aged. The Lindblum wax seal was cracked but not broken. Her perfume scented the letter. She hesitated a moment, but more so with a dreamy look. There was an air of reminiscing. “I wrote this two years ago. After the incident at the Iifa tree.” Her words were gentle and soft. “I held on to it because…” Why had she? She kept it on her person all those years, in fear of someone in court finding out her secret letter. It felt personal to her as she scrawled red-eyed through the midnight oil, unable to rest. “Zidane had returned after a long absence, I thought maybe… Well it seems you have returned too. Just not where I thought.”
She shook her head. Foolish. Really she was. The bird hopped to his shoulder and she took the back of his hand as she placed her letter in it. She could have rewrote it, but it would not have had the same meaning.
She looked up at him again with a soft smile. But her eyes seemed distant now. The school’s clocktower chimed in the distance. It broke her reverie. “Ah. It appears our time together is cut short. I made a prior engagement for harp practice with some talented women.” She drew back and curtseyed.
Hilda would wait a moment longer for final comments on her gifts.
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"] Kuja • The link is in one of the "letters". This is technically 2 posts. Oops.
[attr=class,bulk] Kuja’s eyebrow twitched with impatience. This woman was truly overstepping her bounds. Devil’s advocates, froggy woggies, and now she dared compare him to a Gimme Cat! She was the one to have offered him some nebulous gift, as it were. It was hardly fair to tease him for demanding it. Still, it was best to go along with her foolishness for now. Otherwise, it might never end.
What good would it do to point out that his talents and purpose were very much intertwined? Why should he dignify her speculations on the satisfaction of Terra’s destruction with a response? The science, the technology, the palace, the texts. All of it had already been brought to ruin. As for the survivors…
Why shouldn’t he bring ruin upon those hollow-eyed dolls? Mikoto could stay. As for Zidane, he hardly counted towards Terra’s legacy, did he? And if he didn’t count then Kuja didn’t have to consider it. It was all a foolish exercise anyway.
Once she’d finished her teasing, Hilda finally, mercifully got to her point. She gave a short whistle, and before Kuja had time to raise his eyebrows incredulously, the whistle was answered by a bird. Not just any bird, Kuja soon realized, but a mechanical one made of metal magic and whirring gears. His interest was instantly piqued. It was a simple automaton hardly more advanced than enchanted clockwork, and yet…
The aesthetics. They appealed to him.
”Fascinating. And what is its core processor? A computer chip, perhaps, or is it a trapped avian soul? It appears to act much like its organic counterpart in its passive time. Is that programmed behavior, or could it be…?”
He was asking too many questions. If it was the university who developed the mechanics of the thing then Hilda was nothing more than their patron. He waved a dismissive hand. ”It’s impressive,” he decided. ”A clever combination of magic and technology. I wouldn’t mind the chance to study it for my own purposes.”
Or perhaps he would merely recreate it in his own time. He had no doubt that he could make some improvements on the original concept.
She pulled an aged letter from her corset. That seemed an odd place to stash some things, and under the circumstances, perhaps a bit licentious for a woman of her status. She wrote it after the disaster in Memoria. This was apparently two years ago.
His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t certain as to what she was trying to say. He had the feeling it would do him no good.
”Zidane survived then?” He spoke cautiously, testing every word. So far, no one had been willing to tell him the aftermath of that terrible day at Iifa. They either knew nothing more than him or decried him as a violent madman who would be driven to destruction by any answers given. He couldn’t say that they were entirely wrong.
Two years after the Iifa Tree. Two years after he’d…
The bird shifted from her shoulder to his, and she gently took his hand, placing the envelope carefully in his grasp. It was slightly yellowed and softened with age. When she smiled, she seemed to look through him to some other time long gone. He wondered what she was seeing, and what awaited her after the damsel’s rescue from the claws of vanquished evil.
It would all be made clear in her letter, he supposed.
The university’s clocktower chimed the hour. The noise broke the distance between them, and she drew back with a polite curtsey. She had a prior engagement. How convenient…
He turned over the letter in his hands, considering it carefully. ”You wish to exchange letters with a war criminal? What would the people of Lindblum think of this, I wonder?”
No differently than the Alexandrians, he imagined. Or the Burmecians. Or whatever rats might have scurried out of the ruins of Cleyra. The princess in particular would be furious if she were to discover the company of the regentess.
Still, Hilda chose his acquaintance. She was no fool. Yet this was a foolish act, preceded by two years of foolishly keeping this confession (and he could only imagine that it was a confession) so close to her heart. What would she reveal to him? What secrets were so important that she could never part with them, even at the risk of her standing?
He laughed softly to himself. ”Though I suppose that hardly matters now, does it? As untethered as we find ourselves from usual circumstances?” He took the letter and magicked it away with a flick of his hand. It would be teleported back safely with the rest of his belongings. Unlike Hilda, he did not have a convenient bodice in which to stash his most valuable secrets.
”Here, I am no one, and you are the same. I suppose there is some freedom in that.” His eyes wandered to the clocktower, mindlessly ticking along with the cruel passage of time. When would it stop, he wondered? For him, if for no one else?
”If this is the path that you’ve chosen then I suppose I have no reason to refuse. I find myself low on company these days. Not that I’ve ever needed it, but it isn’t terrible to have a soundboard for my thoughts.”
That’s what he thought of their time together. It had been...nice. Having someone to talk to. Of course, his life then had suffered no shortage of conversations, but the rest had all been an act for the purpose of his game of conquest. Hilda had been different. She’d been…
Not genuine. But something close.
”Til next we meet, Lady Hilda.” Kuja offered her a short, but proper bow that he’d learned in the courts of Alexandria. It felt fitting, here in this garden of secrets and intrigue. ”Take care not to fall into unsavory hands. You never know what villains might lurk in the shadows.” His lips flickered with a smile. Their conversation was over, but he would allow her the last word. It was not too late to refuse him should she come to her senses, after all.
[attr="class","character-spring-1c"]“A Garden of Thorns”
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]Hilda smiled in amusement at his intrigue by her gift. When she created it, she wanted it to connect people. She wanted others to be pleased at its arrival, visually and expectantly. The Mognet was not here to deliver, so perhaps, one day, this could fill a small void in such industry. Unfortunately, his questions seemed a little beyond her. Core processor? Computer chips? The idea of trapping a soul horrified her. She could not even fathom doing such a thing. However, she caught his meaning.
“Unfortunately, I was only able to design its aesthetics and shape. I also knew enough mechanics and spells to allow its flight and its ability to find its destination.” She explained softly, “I enchanted an air crystal to keep it afloat and to allow the air itself to power its motion. It has its own use of scan magic to identify the destination and follow the person’s aether trail.” She smiled at the dainty little bird. A lot of work went into it. “There are a set of smaller crystals inside as well. You know as well as I that different types and shapes of crystals have different reactions to vibrations. This gives it the power to move. Different patterns of vibrations allow it a set of instructions to seemingly move naturally at different intervals.”
She shook her head. “That was the only role I had.” She stated as if she had not done the bulk of the heavy lifting. “The university brought in an ornithologist and a mechanical engineer to recreate more natural avian movements through gears.” She had not been a skilled enough engineer to do that part.
She wanted to explain more, but her eyes trailed back to the clock tower. She would be late. “It pales in comparison to what I know you can accomplish. Still, I hope it pleases you. I look forward to any input you have after your studies. It has much to be improved.”
There was no need to respond to his question. He knew the answer to Zidane’s survival even as she spoke it. She did not need to elaborate the implications behind it. It seemed it was already unnerving to him the way his eyes had that far away look as he remembered. Was he still so nervous about his death when was so full of life? Now that she stood before him, she wondered if he had really died? Or had she been misinformed?
He turned her letter over thoughtfully. Letters were personal. It took effort to sit at one’s writing desk and imagine what words were to be calligraphed in ink. The more emotionally invested a letter, the harder it was to deliver. Still, it gave her relief to know it was finally delivered into his hands. The words she could not state aloud now turned over to his care.
Not that she did not want to say them. It was just...their conversations were never gentle. Not when there was so much friction between them.
“I wish…” She paused momentarily. She wrote the letter in gentle dove’s blood ink - a red cinnabar resin mixed with gum, rose oil, basil oil, and alcohol. It was best used in spells and writings dealing with deep emotions and reconciliation. Is that what she hoped for? “I wish to exchange letters with an acquaintance and confidante.”
She lowered her eyes back to the letter. “I know very well that more than just Lindblum would condemn me. That is why I kept it hidden in such a private place.” That is why it came with her to Zephon. It had been on her this entire time. And when she slept it stayed within reach.
She had been spared the repercussions of treason thanks to her husband twisting the story of what occurred. She doubted she would be spared again. Not when it was Kuja.
“Even so, who I exchange letters with is my prerogative. And I needn’t fear Lindblum. It isn’t here, is it? You may expose me to others, if you wish.” A lot of trust went into even giving him the letter. But he was its rightful owner. “However, you were curious, were you not, of what is left between us? It is why you stopped to stare, isn’t it?”
Garnet would be furious. A lot of people would be.
She found she did not care. She was following her heart that she ignored for so long. She was untethered and she would fly as she wished. Perhaps, in a way, this is how she found her closure...by delivering these unsaid words.
She declined her chin as he offered his bow. It seemed he wanted to meet again after all. “I’ll try to take more care.” She agreed to his witty remark. “I’ve learned extended vacations with ‘villains’ come at too high a cost. More than I am willing to pay.”
She turned to walk away now. The distance back to the university seemed so far now. It was a shame to leave on such a beautiful day. “It is true, we have lost our status.” She started softly, looking over her shoulder at him. “But we are not ‘no one’.” She closed her eyes and breathed, “We are finally free to be ourselves. I hope to see you once more, Kuja. I am glad the path I choose intertwined with your's.”
There were another few clicks of her heels as she walked away. “My...You have changed.” She said lightly, making a grandiose gesture as if the answer was there all along. Her back was still to him. She thought to tease him about losing his manners. He never offered her an arm so that she may not fall in the garden. Nor had he offered to take her glass. He laughed at her remarks often.
Instead, she decided on, “You’re letting me walk away, despite the risks.” Her hands came to clasp in front of her again. The sound of birds rustled in the trees and a few decided to sing. “If you choose to write back, I hope to hear your thoughts on Von Rothbart's reasons for wanting to control and keep Odette.”
Then, she faded amongst the trees and people. There was nothing but the din of art critics and admirers of the garden.
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"] Kuja • Adieu, Lord Sorcerer.
