Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
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year 5, quarter 3
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Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
The woman claimed that she hadn't intended Celes harm. She claimed that calling out about mice in the woods was merely her way of saying hello. Then she told Celes that she hadn't wanted help at all. She wouldn't ask for it unless she was drawing her last breath, apparently. 'Then what do you want from me?' Celes wanted to ask, but that would have felt cold even for her. Instead, she simply watched the woman, blade held as steady as ever. If she was well enough for pride then she was well enough to attack.
"Let me see you nearly lose your life in the midst of war and wake up here," the woman said. "Tell me that you wouldn't have tried to get the upper hand on someone with the same skills as the people we were fighting?"
"Excuse me?" Celes gave the woman an odd look. 'Nearly lost your life?' 'Same skills?'
"There's just one difference between you and them," the woman continued. "Based on how you hold that weapon of yours and how you stand, I'd say you had some military training of your own. Or am I mistaken?"
For a moment, Celes didn't say anything. She wouldn't know what to say to that, and certainly not when she'd only just woken up. She looked at the woman like she was just as strange and inhuman as that feline helm had suggested. "Well," she tried once she'd regained speech,"I'm certainly not on any sides, and if that's your idea of gaining the upper hand, then I'd hate to see you at your clumsiest." Celes let out a short breath through her nose. "What was your plan if I had been your enemy? To get me on guard and then stumble half-dead into my sword? I'd have words with whoever trained you for that war of yours."
The woman had removed her gloves, and with it her advantage had she decided to wield a sword. Celes glanced from the gloves to the blood splashed across her front before slowly lowering her blade. When it seemed the woman wasn't about to use the opportunity to attack, Celes gave another short sigh and quickly sheathed it. "My name is Celes Chere. I used to be the general of an empire you've never heard of. So yes. You could say I've been trained. Better than you, it seems."
Some part of her cringed at the sharpness of her tongue, but her defenses hadn't lowered and her neck still bristled with irritation. She should have looked upon this injured woman kindly, but the idiocy of the situation held her like a vice. She brushed her hair back and crossed her arms heatedly. "I know you're not on your last breath, but I can help if you'd ask for it. As you noticed, I can use magic. A healing spell wouldn't be too much for me." She gave the woman a sharp look. "Unless you'd rather wait for death."
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
Celes' gripped her sword tighter as a shadowy figure emerged from the night.
At first, the figure looked more feline than human with its wide cheeks, pointed ears, and glowing yellow eyes. Then Celes saw the loose pants, breastplate, and heavy leather gloves. Between the clothes and the mask, the mysterious figure looked like a ninja assassin moonlighting as a welder. The effect wasn't exactly reassuring.
"I am no coward," the figure said, muffled through the mask, "But I can't say the same for you if you instantly turn to magic."
"Excuse me?" Celes felt the magic at her fingertips spark even colder. She would have liked to have asked who wouldn't use magic in a situation like this, assuming it was available. She would have then demanded that the stranger explain what on earth it thought it was doing, sneaking around in the woods and startling whoever it came across. But that would have taken time that the stranger did not allow her. Instead, Celes was left gaping her silent offense as a singular question floated to mind.
'How did it know about my magic?'
"But then again," the figure continued. "You seem so paranoid. So afraid that someone in no condition to fight could cause you harm."
"Paranoid?"Celes felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Can you tell me who wouldn't be on the attack at strange voices in the night going on about hiding mice? You're lucky that I didn't kill you!" Celes let out a breath with the last of her complaints, half a sigh and half an offended kind of hmph. It wasn't until the figure stepped closer that she processed the last of its speech. 'In no condition to fight.'
Sure enough, the firelight reflected fresh blood shimmering from rips in the stranger's armor. It was only then that Celes noticed the slight limp in the figure's movements and the hesitance as it reached for its helm. There was a click, a scrape, and the mask lifted from the stranger's head. In its place emerged tight lips and blonde hair cut sharply at an angled chin. The woman before her looked no less threatening than the masked figure before it, but at least Celes could see her eyes. If nothing else, the woman looked more tired than malicious. Though Celes wasn't about to lower her sword.
"If you're wounded, then why did you threaten me?" Celes glanced from the bloodstains to the torn cloth to the heavily scuffed breastplate. The woman certainly wasn't lying about her condition, but all things considered, Celes couldn't help her rising suspicion. The woman hadn't acted like someone desperate and in need of aid. She'd acted like a predator stalking the woods for unsuspecting prey, and no amount of explaining could so easily wash away that kind of first impression. "That isn't the best way to ask for help, you know."
This might be the most awkward thing I've ever written in my life. I hope Zack isn't CRUSHED.
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
Celes felt eyes on her. She grasped for her sword, cursing quietly as her hand slipped through empty space, before looking up. At first, she caught only a bustling crowd of unfamiliar faces. Then she saw him.
Zack had changed since they'd last met. His hair was cleaner -- still ridiculous, but cleaner at least -- and glistened in dark rows. He'd switched out his armored plate for a pair of dark pants and his heavy pauldrons for a jacket with the collar popped and the sleeves rolled up. This particular jacket came equipped with a zipper down the front that he hadn't bothered to secure more than halfway. Beneath it was a tight cotton t-shirt dipping several inches below his neckline.
Their eyes met. Zack's cheeks flushed.
“Hey! Didn’t know if you’d, uh." Zack swallowed. The pause was just long enough for Celes to raise an eyebrow before he continued, "Made your way out of your hotel yet."
"Oh." Celes didn't know what to say to that. It was the kind of non-conversation that she'd never been good at. Back in her army days, she would have turned on Zack and asked why he insisted on wasting her time with idle nothingness. But then, a lot had changed since then, and she found that she didn't particularly want to yell at him. Instead, she sat there with her mouth shut, uncertain of what was expected of her. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks.
Neither said anything for far, far too long.
Zack laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry, long morning." His shoulders bulged through his jacket as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "I managed to earn a little bit of gil helping a few folks out," he said. "Want to grab something to eat?"
"Huh?" Celes' eyes shot open. Whatever she'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. Suddenly, everything fit into place. Zack's uncharacteristic nerves. His change of clothes (who wore a half-zipped shirt anyway and why couldn't she stop glancing at it?). Even their rooming situation had suddenly become suspect. What had he meant by that? Had he really wanted to grab something to eat or was he...?
Was he...?
Celes bit her tongue and forced her heart rate slower. She was being ridiculous. The man just wanted food. It didn't matter that he was nervous -- so was she for some reason she couldn't explain. It didn't matter that his arms were straining at that too-small jacket or that the lowest corner of the zipper didn't quite meet the hardened muscle over his belt. It didn't matter because he was just hungry. She was also hungry. And she was, once again, being ridiculous.
"Oh," she said again as though that would somehow mask her horrifying overreaction. She tried to regain some dignity by straightening her posture, but she could still feel the heat in her face. "Right. That sounds..." She trailed off, suddenly unsure how to answer. "...Good," she finished lamely. Her palms were sweating.
'Oh god, think of something to say.'
"Well." Celes rose to her feet and tossed her loose hair back, nearly balked at the unfamiliar gust of perfume and bath soap. "Let's, uh. Do that then." She glanced at him, accidentally met his eye, and her stomach lurched. It was a moment of pure panic, like tripping off the side of a ravine or forgetting the lines of an opera under the heat of a dozen lights and a thousand stares. She could feel his eyes on her, and in that moment, she'd never wanted anything more than to run.
'Please, let something burst from the crowd and attack me,' she prayed. But for once, nothing tried to kill her while her guard was down, and she was left to deal with something far more painful -- friendly conversation.
Celes opened her mouth, but the words had been replaced with a noise not unlike a very uncertain kitten. She clamped her mouth shut again as her cheeks burned and her mind reeled.
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
Celes didn't know why she would ever return to a place like this.
Over her many, many months spend wandering the unfamiliar world of Zephon, she had not had a single positive experience in the Headstone Forest. This was where she had met Terra, though that hadn't ended well. Celes had been in such a fragile state of mind at the time that she'd insisted they leave separately, and then she'd never found her friend again. Her second time in the forest, she'd had quite the awkward conversation with a certain Zack Fair before that too had ended in disaster. Celes didn't know what it was about the Headstone Forest, but it had a way of making her question reality.
Like meeting old friends around a flickering campfire.
Like finding herself desperate and alone in a familiar wasteland.
Even now, her neck still prickled at the echo of dry wind in her memory. She still caught the phantom smell of dried blood and polluted water. And when she closed her eyes, she still shivered at the lingering presence of that laugh.
She'd heard it in the Headstone Forest. The locals called it haunted. They said it brought out the worst in anyone, and for once, Celes believed the superstition. She'd seen it all herself, and knew that something dark lurked within. It called to her despite the nightmares, or maybe because of them. Whatever happened, whatever was real, Celes had the feeling that she might discover the truth in this forest. The uncertainty was driving her mad.
And so, she found herself back on the foggy paths of the Headstone Forest once again. She spent her day searching for something she couldn't explain. She spent the night by a campfire with one hand beneath her head and the other tight on the grip of her sword. She never slept well anymore, not in a secured hotel room and certainly not out in an open forest. Half-conscious, she scanned the ambient sounds of the forest for the crack of twigs, the soft growl of approaching monsters, or the whisper of colluding bandits. What she heard defied her expectations.
Speech, as clear and startling as though its speaker were standing right beside her: "What mouse lurks in the darkness to hide in the light?"
Celes was on her feet in an instant, sword drawn and magic sparking at her fingertips. Her breaths came sharp as she searched the shadows of the forest. She couldn't see anything beyond her own fire -- just rustling leaves and a backdrop of sheer black. She squared her stance defensively, waiting for an attack she was sure would come. "Show yourself," she demanded, though she had little faith that whatever lurked in the darkness would comply. Instead, she bit her tongue, waiting for a potential threat. Waiting for what might not even be real.
I did a thing. Kind of boring, but hopefully it gets this started. xD
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
It had been a long time since Celes had last bathed. A long time of hiking, camping, monster-fighting, and dragging herself through the ashes of a flaming city. She thought that it should have made her feel better to strip away her armor, let herself slip beneath the water's edge, and simply think, but it didn't. Not really. Her throat was still tight as she ran her fingers through wet tangles. Her breaths came uneasily as she immersed herself in fragrant bubbles. The water stung the scrapes on her knees and palms where she'd fallen, and she washed her wounds without looking at them. She didn't want to think about where they came from.
Through the haze of bath soap and shampoo, she could still smell the damp must of the forest. Beyond that was the arid sting of wind, the click of hard ground beneath her boots, and water laced with the copper tints of blood. She could remember them both just as strongly as the other. One second, the chirp of songbirds over an ominous fog. The next, the howl of wind across a dusty wasteland and that laugh.
Only one could be real. But which was it? She wanted to sink into the water until her mind flooded and she didn't have to think anymore. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend that it had all been a dream, but that would be giving up, and she would never stop fighting. She couldn't if she wanted to keep her mind straight, and she wouldn't let him Him win. Not now. Not ever again.
The water had cooled by the time she left it. She brought magic to her fingers and let it trail across her skin, seeping into bruises and stitching together cuts until she looked as though she'd never scraped her palms or tramped through thick underbrush or crawled through fire nearly choking on the smoke. She left her armor where it was -- so dirty and stained that she'd have to get it cleaned before she bothered to dress like a soldier again. Instead, she opted for a more casual set of clothes, one she hadn't worn when paranoia kept her armor on practically in sleep. She slipped into a familiar set of yellow pants, a black tank top, and a matching jacket etched with beading on the edges. Her hair took fifteen minutes to work through with a comb. She'd forgotten what it looked like when it wasn't tangled together in matted strands, but a little work brought it back to her natural curls as though she hadn't spent several months completely neglecting it.
The room was empty when she crept back in, perching awkwardly on the edge of the single bed while she ran her fingers through the wet ringlets of her hair. Zack must have left to busy himself with something or another -- he'd said he needed to have his armor cleaned, and Celes considered joining him. Upon emerging from the forest, they'd decided that they were both too weak and too rattled to part ways. It had simply made sense to continue on together, at least for a day or two. She'd proven she was willing to follow him across half a country anyway, though as to why she still wasn't sure. With her head mostly cleared, she chalked it up to a moment of pure insanity. The trauma in Torensten must have done something to her. There was no reason for it otherwise.
Of course, Zack had tried to be a gentleman. He'd offered to pay for two rooms on their return to the city, and Celes hadn't thought to object. However, once they'd approached the counter, Zack had patted his pockets with panic in his eyes. He'd lost his gil somewhere in Torensten, he'd said. And so Celes had used the last of her remaining money to rent one room -- the only one she could afford. They'd both argued vehemently over which of them would sleep on the floor that night, but Celes had a suspicion that Zack's stubborn will would win out over her's. He'd take the floor even though she'd offered just as strongly as he had. She'd been the one to pay for the room, after all.
With nothing to do but idle, Celes slid into her boots and started for the door. If she was going to wait for him, then she might as well do it downstairs. She felt vulnerable without her armor, but left it behind. She was unlikely to run into trouble here. 'You have your magic,' she told herself quietly, 'So calm down and try to act normal.' She longed for her sword as she wandered out of the inn and to the dusky street beyond. Even as she perched on a bench to watch the sunset, her hand still gripped vainly at her hip, subconsciously stroking the blade that wasn't there.
'You're safe,' she repeated. 'Just act normal.' But it didn't matter that this was a civilian's city. It didn't matter that even if someone did attack her, they wouldn't stand a chance against her magic. It didn't matter what she told herself because she wasn't used to safety. Not in her ruined world and certainly not here. As she waited, she closed her eyes, took a breath, and tried to distract herself with the chatter of passing crowds. 'Just act normal.'
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
If Celes had harbored any doubts about the strength of her unwilling allies, they were put to rest the moment the monsters attacked. Vincent, it seemed, used guns. Guns with enough punch to take out an electrically charged bear-tiger in six shots. Celes had never seen anything like it apart from maybe Edgar's auto-crossbow or a magitech armor, but even those had nothing on the weapon in Vincent's hand. Granted, he'd only finished off the monster she'd started (and it was rather frozen after she'd had her turn), but it was still impressive nonetheless. She scanned the treeline cautiously, one hand steadying her sword, before giving him an appreciative nod.
Only he wasn't looking at her. No, his eyes had settled on something past her, just over her left shoulder. Celes tensed and turned to see what had caught his attention, but something was wrong. The air buzzed with it, and she caught only a glimpse of humming blue light before her sword was raised, ready to catch whatever was coming her way. She didn't have a chance to find out, however, before something had barreled behind her, nearly knocking her off her feet. There was a flash of red, a horrid hum, and the blue light shattered like ice, sparking where the pieces hit the ground like raindrops.
Celes took a step to regain her balance. A dark figure pulled away from behind her -- Vincent. Celes couldn't help but feel that she should have been embarrassed by his close proximity (they'd nearly been touching after all), but it had all happened so fast that she honestly couldn't have cared less. Still, her cheeks blazed with red as she turned to face him. "I could have handled that myself. At least, if you hadn't nearly knocked me over!" She'd had her sword steady. She'd been prepared, and hadn't she already told them that she could absorb magic? It wasn't a man's job to protect her, particularly not when he got in the way. But then, she supposed that he had taken care of it, and there was no doubting that his heart had been in the right place. She let out a breath, glancing at him stiffly before adding, "Thanks." She didn't want to come off as cold, after all.
Behind them, the boy -- Dieter -- had gotten into a fight of his own, but Celes didn't really care. She kept her eyes on the treeline, readying herself for another attack, while only vaguely checking to make sure the boy wasn't about to get mauled. Her apathy justified itself when, after only a short struggle, the boy shoved his palms into the creature's fur, and it erupted in flames. Whether they were resistant to magic or not, that seemed to have done the trick, and a quick sword strike finished it off. Celes glanced at her sword. Perhaps it wasn't magic itself that was the problem.
With three dead monsters on their hands, it seemed the rest of them had decided to abandon stealth in favor of pure offense. Celes saw them emerge from the trees -- the last three of their pack -- lips drawn, whiskers sparking in the shadows of late afternoon. After seeing them in action, Celes had absolutely no doubts over the strength of her allies, but that didn't mean that three monsters at once weren't a problem, particularly not with that strange magic Vincent had tried to save her from. Celes grounded her stance and brought her hands together.
She would have to wound them at the same time.
Her recitations were quick. Magic had always come easily to her -- even if her blood coursed with ice and not the heat she called upon now. "Firaga!" she finished, and her spell released. The monsters hissed and recoiled in pain -- not dead yet, but wounded and more importantly distracted. The one in the middle gave a furious roar and blindly flung out another ball of sparking blue magic. Celes' spine chilled at the sight of it. Her blood prickled in response to its power, but this time, she stepped forward. In front of Vincent, in front of that strange boy. She thrust out her sword, and at the touch of her magic, the air around it changed. Her blade was like a magnet, or more accurately, a vortex. It siphoned that blue light until it changed courses completely, funneling into her blade. Blue light met metal, and Celes gasped.
Its touch wasn't burning, not chilled, not crackling -- but all of those things at once and more. Whatever she'd absorbed, it was strong. Much stronger than almost anything she could remember. So strong that it was almost painful, jolting into her blood, spreading like a current from her fingers to her chest. Her head spun with it, and she grit her teeth just to stay steady, but it wasn't a bad feeling. It was like an electrical charge through each and every cell in her body. It pulsed through her veins and buzzed through her heart. In less than five seconds, her eyes met on the monsters again. She brought her hands together.
"Flare!"
She nearly staggered with the force of the spell that left her. Super-charged by the monster's own magic, the force was like an explosion. The magic burst in waves, one after the other -- twice, five times, a dozen times each while she gasped from the heat that had left her. Gritting her teeth, Celes straightened enough to give Vincent a sharp look. "Finish it!"
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
As always, Celes had managed to completely mishandle her entrance to a conversation, but no one seemed to mind. In fact, neither of the mysterious strangers seemed at all surprised that she had been watching them. Had they noticed her approach?
It certainly seemed so, though she couldn't imagine how. She knew that she wasn't the stealthiest -- not like Shadow -- but she'd wasn't a bumbling idiot either. Still, the older man didn't seem to mind. In fact, Celes hadn't noticed a single slip in his expression since the moment she'd laid eyes on him. He was calm, that was for sure, though what that meant, she couldn't say. In that sense, she thought he was a little like Shadow. Unreadable. Mysterious. She didn't trust him exactly, but at least he seemed willing to cooperate. His name was Vincent. 'Vincent Valentine.' On another day, Celes might have questioned him more -- about his cool demeanor or his odd dress or the claw on his hand -- but this was not another day, and she could hardly focus on Vincent when her neck was prickling with someone else's attention.
Something wasn't right with the boy. She knew that immediately, though she couldn't for the life of her say as to why. He certainly looked innocent enough with his small form and narrow face. He was almost certainly younger than her, though not by more than a year or two. Still, there was something about the way he carried himself -- the way he looked at her that set her on edge. She didn't like the way his eyes raked over her -- from the messy hair around her bandanna down her leotard to her boots below. Though she couldn't be certain, it felt like there was far more on his mind than just a meeting with a potential ally, and she felt her cheeks flood with heat. She would have liked to have snapped at him -- 'I'm here to fight, not to be gawked at!' -- but it was all pointless when he hadn't actually said anything. Still, she didn't like the smug smirk that crept across his face, like he was amused at her discomfort. She felt her lips purse as she regripped her sword.
“My name is Dieter, Dieter Wolfram, Charge of Sir Wiegraff," he said after an over-extended pause. She didn't like his voice either. It didn't fit him, somehow, though again, she couldn't say why. If she had to guess, it was the subtle sense of conceit behind every word, like he knew something that they didn't. Celes stiffened at the sound of it.
"Celes," she said. "I'm here to clear the trade route while I'm waiting for someone in town." She gave the boy -- Dieter -- a cool look. "I can handle myself against any monsters, so you won't need to look after me. I've dealt with a lot worse than this." Like the attack on Torensten. Or even further back, the twisted monsters left by Kefka over the world he'd ruined. She pushed back her hair and let out a short, irritable breath. Her accomplishments should have exempted her from objectification a long time ago, but that wasn't how the world worked. She would show him her worth with a sword if she had to -- maybe even one turned on him.
As though in answer to her prayers, a monster roared not a dozen yards away. Celes readied her blade and took a steadying step forward. It appeared to be some kind of wild cat, albeit one the size of a bear with sparking whiskers. It took on a predatory stance, haunches raised, ears back, orange eyes narrowed in focus. Celes had never seen a beast like it, but she guessed from its buzzing aura that it was at least familiar with electricity. Celes steadied her runic blade and brought the cold chill of magic to her fingertips. They would need to approach this cautiously, at least until they knew what the monster could do and how many might be waiting in the shadows. She gave Vincent an authoritative glance. "We should hold our ground. We don't know what that thing could-"
The boy was already moving. Just stepping ahead with his sword already drawn and sliding inexplicably against the side of a cliff. Then he stopped, gave the beast a dark glare, and thrust his blade into the ground. He stared the monster down as though daring it to step closer. As though challenging it. Celes' mouth fell open in disbelief. "What are you doing?" she cried, "Now isn't the time to make yourself feel better as a man!" She let out a short breath through her teeth before turning furiously to Vincent. "Cover me and try to keep it at a distance. If it tries any magic, I can deflect it. Just stay close and don't do anything reckless."
Her magic welled in time with her frustration. By the time she'd finished her orders, her fingers were prickling with it. She turned sharply on her heel and swiped her hand as though throwing invisible daggers. "Blizzaga!" she hissed through her teeth, and her magic released. The mountain air stilled, cracked, then drained of heat. The monster cried out as the space around it froze to ice, but it didn't seem as bothered by it as it should have been. Hurt, probably. Slowed, certainly. But not as dead as she would have liked. Her fingers tightened on her blade. It looked like she would have to use it after all.
With the mood she was in, she didn't exactly mind.
Sorry for the awkward placement of this! I just needed to jump in before you got too far. xD
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
By many, Mount Hotan was known as the mountain of death -- a frozen wasteland inhabited by nothing but demons, renegades, and the ruins of warfare. It was the kind of place whispered about mostly in legends of prowling behemoths, snarling dragons, and the kind of unimaginable hellspawn that could only be dreamed up at the end of the world.
To that, Celes had to laugh. This little mountain had nothing on the reality she knew.
Between the broken crags and jagged riffs, there were still trees -- not many, but a few. Flocks of birds cawed and circled over head, and not all of them were predatory. Celes had even found that the quality of the monsters had dropped significantly from her expectations. As long they didn't inflict undeath or open up rifts to other dimensions she wasn't particularly impressed. Still, she'd found the Mountain strangely familiar -- desolate, and yet almost right. She'd needed time on her own to clear her head and battle monsters as the same survivor she'd been before this whole ridiculous "world-warping" mess.
Who was she? Not a general, certainly, and not the battle-worn survivor or the hopeful lover either. No, here in Zephon none of those labels seemed to apply. And yet, she still didn't quite have an answer. Was she a criminal? A hero? A victim? Crazy? Desperate?
Well, at the moment, she supposed that she could only be called a hunter.
It had all started during a brief supply mission in a local mountain village. It was a hardened kind of place, the kind that kept a strict curfew and an even stricter guard, and yet, that gave it an almost militaristic charm. She nodded appreciatively at the grizzled hunter standing watch at the village gates. He checked her of course (she'd grown used to the odd reactions to her chosen dress and weaponry), but allowed her to pass with a similar nod. Celes had brought with her a collection of various odds and ends gathered from the local wildlife -- each with a price on its head that she intended to collect. It wasn't the most dignified profession, but she'd suffered far less dignity in far worse places than bargaining for bounties in the Sleeping Frog Pub.
Her boots slipped on slick condensation. The air was heavy with must and the dank aftertaste of wine rot. Celes hid her distaste behind thin lips as she approached the counter and waited coolly for a turn with the management. Despite its reputation as the local hovel, its owner had once been a hunter of some renown and helped to keep the hunting business in order. The locals joked that the village's security would only stand so long so long as the Sleeping Frog Pub kept raking in money from fools and drunks. As far as Celes could tell, this would never be a serious concern.
After serving drinks to six inebriated patrons in front of her, the bartender finally noticed the battle-hardened woman standing stiffly at the end of the counter. He paused for a moment, thrown off by either her expression or the bag of mangled monster parts at her hip, before approaching her cautiously.
"Ah, can I help you, Miss?"
Celes asked for the owner -- the only one capable of paying her -- but he was apparently out with no way to track him and no known time of arrival. Celes tried to keep her patience, but she could feel her lips thinning with every weak excuse the man gave. Finally, she asked, "Well what am I supposed to do then? If he's not here?"
Her answer was less than ideal. The man stuttered a little under her gaze before suggesting that she take another job while she was waiting -- some kind of investigation of earthquakes upsetting trade routes. Celes would have liked to have lectured the man and his whole establishment on the importance of basic competence, but barely managed to hold her tongue. "Excuse me?" was all she allowed herself before steadying herself with a breath. "Fine," she managed instead, if only to dispel the man's initial alarm.
And that's how she found herself heading along up a mountain pass on a hunt for errant earthquakes and avalanches. She couldn't keep herself from fuming. The word 'incompetent' ran often through her head alongside phrases like 'not worth my time.' Still, she went if only because it sounded like lives were at stake if the path wasn't cleared, and she'd never let innocent people die just because someone had offended her. She had something called 'basic human decency.' Decency and competence.
Celes paused. Even angry, she couldn't ignore the sound of a voice up ahead. A voice and rustling foliage. She'd been told that others had been called to clear the trade route, and that she should meet up with them if she could. Still, she placed a hand on her sword as she crept forward, careful to step only in the softest dirt and to avoid any fallen twigs. Magic chilled her fingertips, ready to cast, as she peered through a veil of branches and pine needles.
What she found was, well, odd to say the least. There was a dark man, tall and gaunt with trailing black hair, a cape, and metal shoes. While the man should've been more interesting with his black leather and what looked like a golden claw on his arm, it was the boy beside him that caught her eye. It wasn't that he looked any stranger than the man -- by comparison, his fiery hair and black leather armor were almost tame -- but there was something about him that felt off somehow. She couldn't place it.
She hadn't caught what the man said, but she was close enough to hear the boy's reply. "I am a Mark Hunter for the Sword of the Weak Guild. The barkeep at the Sleeping Frog told me that the other hunters had already begun their climb? Are you one of them?"
Celes let out a breath. So these were the kind of people the town sent out for their missions? Of course, she should have guessed. If there was one thing she'd learned in her year on this bizarre world, it was that people who looked like that weren't from around here. And there were plenty of world-hopping strangers who were interested in jobs like this.
She regripped her sword and stepped out from her cover of fir trees. "I don't know if he is, but I am. Something about earthquakes?" Celes tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but it wasn't easy. These people looked more like bandits than allies, even if they were clearly from off-world. She gave the man a hesitant nod. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, though really she just hadn't thought of a better way to join the conversation. Her cheeks flushed faintly.
SUPER short so I wouldn't rob Zack of too much agency (and even then I think I robbed him of a bit too much). Oh well. CELES IS NOT OKAY.
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
Celes woke screaming.
'Alive.' Her mind did not have time to process much more than that. She was alive -- heart pounding, breaths struggling, and something was wrapped around her. She yanked against it, thrusting her elbow up until it met flesh and she was released, scrambling away over rock and dirt and mud until her ankle rolled and she hit something solid. Her blood beat cold with fear, and she felt her magic surge to her skin on a wave of adrenaline. She released it blindly, hurling ice magic behind her like knives. "Get away!" she cried, "Kefka-!" Her throat clamped around the word, strangling it. "Kefka..." She couldn't breathe right. Her vision swam before her -- black, brown, green, white -- and her cheeks burned. Her stomach lurched and she knew a what would happen a second before it did.
Her body heaved and she spat bile into the dirt. Black -- like Kefka's diseased rivers. Black -- like charcoal and ash.
Celes heaved until there was nothing left. Her stomach lurched until her forehead had cooled and the ringing dissipated from her ears. Her shoulders were shaking. Her hands were pale. Slowly, the world around her took form. Dirt beneath her fingers. Ivy around her ankle. The distant chirping of songbirds.
Songbirds. There were no songbirds in her world.
Celes let out a miserable noise and raised her head to thick green bushes, thorny brambles, and the hearty smell of leaf rot. All around her were trees -- elm, oak, pine, maple -- and for a moment Celes thought she might vomit again. "This isn't real," she whispered, staring at the canopies above her. "This isn't real. It's-."
'One of Kefka's tricks. A hallucination. This can't be happening, it can't...'
She'd seen the real world -- a wasteland of cracked earth, bubbling poison, and the smell of ash. She'd heard him, above her like the god he was. He'd taunted her. Played with her. Deep down, she'd known it to be true. 'Ruined.' 'Destroyed.' 'All dead thanks to you.' Kefka had played with her like just another doll in his collection. It wasn't enough just to kill her -- no, he had to see her break. That's how he'd always been, wasn't it? He couldn't rest until he'd broken everything in his path. And so he'd given her hope.
This world of trees and cities and mysterious strangers was nothing but a sadistic dream.
"This isn't real," Celes muttered again. "It's Kefka. Just Kefka..." Her knees burned with scrapes and scratches ground into dirt. Her hands were raw against rocks she'd scrambled into. The air smelled of damp earth, moss, and swaying trees. Her jaw clenched as a sharp pain spread through her chest and into her throat. It was all so vivid that not one part of her could accept it for what it was -- a cruel illusion.
Celes would fall for it again, and he would be watching. Waiting to take it all away. None of it was real. None of it ever had been, and that truth would carry with her until the curtain lifted again, and she saw another glimpse of her undiluted reality.
Her body felt heavy, and she slid her hands over her eyes. She didn't cry -- crying would solve nothing, and her eyes were already wet. Instead, she breathed. One slow inhale. One slow exhale. A quiet whine rose from her throat, louder and louder until it was punctuated by sharp pauses as her shoulders shuddered.
Laughter.
"I can't do this,"she said, and then her stomach seized and she was laughing so hard that she couldn't say anything more. She thought of Kefka watching her break like this in the middle of an imaginary forest. The cool, unshakable General Celes. The Ice Queen of Vector. Huddled and helpless in the confines of her own mind.
Laughter. It was all so darkly absurd. "I can't..."
Use your own eyes, and see for yourself which side I'm on.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay close. This fog should clear out in no time, yeah?”
Zack's voice came almost disembodied through the fog. Celes could feel his back behind her, she could hear the soft intake of his breath, and yet she could gain almost nothing from a sideways glance. There was a roughly masculine figure, there was dark hair nearly touching hers, but she couldn't see his eyes. She could, quite literally, not see a foot in front of her.
"Of course," Celes answered, "It's just fog." Surely Zack couldn't see how her eyes glanced warily from tree to obscured tree, how her lips had thinned into colorless lines, or how her knuckles had whitened on her sword? Celes told herself the same words over and over again, 'It's just fog. It's just fog. It's just fog,' yet even so, she couldn't deny the dangers of it. Standing here talking, they were blind targets just waiting for some monster to stumble across them. All around them, the forest creaked and moaned with movement. Leaves rustled. Wood cracked. Celes shrank back against Zack until their pauldrons touched.
Celes brought her magic closer to her skin. It prickled with cold, but she held her free hand ready, waiting. Was she imagining it, or had the sunlight dimmed? Celes blinked hard to clear her vision, but even the fog looked different now -- not white, but gray and getting darker by the second. The rustling quickened. The trees groaned as though bent by some ungodly hand. Outside their dark sphere, she heard something like a storm ripping at the forest around them. But there was no wind.
Zack tensed beside her. "Something isn't right here. We should-."
Celes glanced at the black space where his head would be. "What?"
For over two seconds, she heard nothing but the creaking, wind-swept forests. Then Zack muttered, "What the hell is that?”
Celes didn't see it coming. There was a crack, a loud rustling, and then Zack gasped. Celes whipped around to face him, but saw almost nothing as he let out a horrified shriek.
"Ah!" Hard flesh collapsed against her and, for the second time, Celes felt her knees give under Zack's weight. She hit the ground elbows first, gasping in pain as Zack's shoulder drove into her stomach. "Zack! What're you-?" she spat before his body was yanked away as though on a string. Celes blinked into the fog and touched where his shoulder had been only half a second before. Her eyes widened. "Zack!" She heard his shouting from far away, getting farther by the second. Something had him. Something had taken him and she was completely blind.
"Zack..." Her voice came quieter now, almost whispered between her own pounding heartbeats. Slowly, she rose to her feet. Her eyes darted from blur to senseless blur. Her ears pinpointed every scratch, rattle, and gust of wind, but there were simply too many to track. Celes crept away until her back hit a solid tree trunk. She leaned against it and listened as her breaths came quicker and her boots ground into tangled vines.
She could no longer hear Zack's voice. The forest had enveloped him.
Something moved to her left. Celes turned on it, but it wasn't a man -- not even a monster. She saw an eight foot torso with flailing arms like whips. There was a slow, grinding moan as those arms reached out towards something she couldn't see. Celes stepped forward, squinting through the fog, and then stopped. It was a tree. Nothing more than a tree caught in the wind. The fog shifted in front of her. It drifted like water between her and the tree, circling in eddies around her hands. There was something there only four feet ahead of her -- a dark, hulking shadow of a man she'd forgotten.
The assassin. Rude.
Celes didn't see what happened. One moment the shadow stood strong in the haze, and in the next it had been thrown to the ground. Celes gave an involuntarily yelp of surprise as his head cracked against the hard earth. Then he slid away, flat on his back, his hands clutching wildly at leaves and old tree roots. Celes' eyes widened. "No!" She raised her sword and rushed after him, but something caught her ankle. Celes gave a sharp yell as she crashed into the forest floor. She yanked her leg out of the grasp of old vines and scrambled back to her feet. The man's cries had faded behind a sudden, howling wind.
Celes was alone.
Celes' eyes darted wildly from cracking underbrush to groaning wood, searching desperately for the monster -- whatever it was -- that had attacked. She could see nothing -- absolutely nothing -- through the fog. In a swell of panic, she heard herself shouting incantations. Her hands folded together, and then came the burst of magic.
"Blizzaga!" Ice erupted from her blood. For a moment, even the fog stilled in suspended animation as its tiny water droplets crystallized. "Blizzaga!" The force of it sent her stumbling backwards as the trees in front of her froze. Frost-covered leaves broke from their branches and shattered to the ground. "Blizzaga!" Celes heard nothing but her own heartbeat as she whipped around and blasted the woodlands behind her with ice. Her skin prickled with cold. Her breath hung in front of her like mist.
The forest fell silent again, and she was alone.
"Zack..." She whispered his name. The strong, dark soldier she knew nothing about. The smiling, confident man with heroic impulses and poor judgement. He was gone now, dragged deep into the forest, possibly dead. Celes felt her fingers tremble on her sword. There was no reason to care except that he was a good man who didn't deserve this. There was no reason for the clenching of her throat and her own jagged breaths. There was no reason at all except...
Except that for just a few hours, she'd felt safe at his side.
Why had she stopped in her tracks at the sight of him, broken and fleeing down the streets of Torensten? Why had she abandoned her only chance to find Terra again? Why had she chased after him like a woman obsessed, tracking him for miles past two cities and into this forsaken forest? Celes had written it off as pure irrational impulse, but now she couldn't help but wonder. Why had she been so desperate to catch him? Why hadn't she wanted to see him go?
Everything had been taken from her. Her position. Her home. The Returners. Edgar. Sabin. Setzer. Even Locke...
"Don't leave me." Celes touched at her mouth and felt her jaw tighten. "Don't..."
'There's nothing left.'
The forest went dark.
Celes' eyes widened at the gloom. The fog strengthened around her, starting at her feet and then growing thicker and taller until it blocked out the sun. Celes gasped as it filled her lungs, reaching in icy tendrils down her throat. All around her, there was movement. Scratching, dragging, screeching. The ground beneath her trembled like an earthquake and she screamed as she lost her balance and fell to her knees. Something whipped across her chest and then again at her arm. A thousand sharp fingers scratched at her legs and face and hands. She shouted spells into the darkness, but the onslaught wouldn't stop. All around her came that sound. A horrible bellowing like the depths of the earth. Celes felt her sword fall from her fingertips. She wrapped her head in her hands and waited.
As quickly as it began, the forest fell silent. Celes listened as the seconds passed, but there was nothing. No wind. No rustle of leaves. No birds chirping or cicadas humming. Slowly, Celes placed a hand to the ground.
The earth was cracked and barren.
All around her, the fog glowed with a subtle tint of blood. It lifted until that red light cast upon blackened tree trunks and hollowed skulls. The forest was gone, replaced by a wasteland that spread until it touched the horizon. Slowly, Celes rose to her feet, turning and staring, until every ruined inch of it had ingrained itself behind her eyes. Her breaths came ragged. Her heart fluttered with ice.
"What? How...?" All around her came the smell of burnt flesh and dust. There was no sound but the quiet bubbling of a pond full of thick, yellow sludge.
"No..." The forest had vanished. All around her, there were only bones and charred stone. Celes felt herself stumbling away from it, but there was nowhere to run.
'What if this is all an illusion, and we are lying out on the plains, exposed to the elements of our dying world?'
Terra's words echoed back to her. Words of fear and delusion. Terra's eyes had wavered with the dying light of their campfire. Her fingers had trembled.
'Celes, I'm afraid that this is some type of punishment for us -- for being the only ones to stand against Kefka. For embracing the hope that we could win.'
The words had sent her reeling. Celes had felt the ground fall from beneath her, she had seen the flames again, and yet she still hadn't really believed it. How could she when the leaves had smelled so rich and when the flowers had swayed so softly in the wind? How could she believe that Terra's soft eyes had been a lie? How could anyone accept that the flames of Torensten had been an illusion? How could she have imagined Zack's impulsive grin or the feel of his arms?
Yet here it was. Reality as she knew it. Gone were the illusions of comfort and life. Everything she'd come to accept and love had evaporated in the fog. Now there was only the loneliness, the helplessness, and that same crippling guilt. Celes heard it in the bubbling of waste water. She felt it in the cracks of the earth. All of this was real in a way that the forest never had been. This was reality. She'd been foolish to ever think otherwise.
The ground trembled beneath her. The thorny trees rattled with an unholy power. Celes raised a hand to defend herself with magic, but nothing came from the mist. Nothing but a voice.
Celes couldn't move. Her body washed over with cold as that voice held her in a grip like iron.
Kefka.
“Lowly little lousey unlikeable, PUNY brat … All dead, thanks to you .. heeheeHEHEHAHAHA!”
The laughter came like thunder. The ground trembled with it. The trees cracked like glass. Celes slammed her hands over her ears. She clenched her eyes shut and pleaded for it to stop. It was the sound that had haunted her nightmares for over a year. That laugh. That hideous, gleeful laugh! Celes stumbled again and fell to her knees. Her skin split against the hardened clay, but she didn't feel it. Not with that laughter, closing in all around her. She heard another sound rising -- high-pitched and helpless.
It came from her.
'He's going to kill me.' She could already feel the heat of his judgement searing from the sky. She could hear the crack of ungodly energy and the scorching of the earth. 'He's going to kill me.' Her heart beat furiously to the rhythm of that laugh. It beat until she thought that her chest might burst. 'Stop it stop it stop it!'
"Kefka..." Celes grit her teeth and lifted her head to the cloudy sky. "Kefka! What are you waiting for? Just do it already!" Nothing came from the sky. No light. No magic. "What do you want from me? Why did you do this?!" She thought of the forest and of the world of Zephon. She saw Zack's grinning face and Ruby's slow scoffs. She saw the calloused hands of Douken and the cleanly ironed dress of the red mage Lucy. "You've had me for months! Why didn't you just kill me?!"
A renewed chorus of laughter answered her. Celes' eyes wandered across the scorched wasteland to the hilt of her sword. She reached for it.
Her hand felt steady on the handle of her blade. She stood slowly and squared her stance against him.
"You wanted to break me, is that it? I didn't have anything left, so you gave me something to lose?" Celes' jaw clenched. She raised a hand to the wasteland around her. "You have the world! You have everything, but you can't make people bend to you! Nothing can do that!" The laughter stopped. Above her, the clouds had parted to make way for a gathering mass of red. The air had stilled and all around came the tense crackling of heat. Celes' breath froze. She looked up into that red light and knew what was coming.
Her eyes closed.
First came the crack and then the roar. Something hit her with the force of a train and she felt herself flying. The light came red through her eyelids. The heat blistered at her skin and seared hotter than any fire. Her body hit the ground hard and then rolled twice into a thorny tree. Her head hung heavy. She couldn't move.
'Have you found something worth protecting in this broken little world that won’t die?'
His voice came clear over the screaming light. Celes thought of Locke with his messy gray hair and his colorful bandannas. She thought of his good-natured smiles and his rogue grins, and they stirred something inside her. Another man had given her that same expression -- another man in another reality, and if only for a moment, she'd been happy.
"I've met someone who can accept me for what I am." Her voice came weak against her burnt and damaged throat. The light faded from behind her eyes. The roaring power slowed and dimmed. Her head spun and her arms fell slack.
Just before she lost consciousness, Celes heard the distant chirping of songbirds.
