Despite the violence, the danger, and the bloodshed, the woman did not leave. 

As Celes sat with her back against a wall, bleeding and bruised, the woman approached. Magic stirred in the air -- not her own -- and suddenly Celes felt stronger. The pain dulled and her lightest of cuts stopped bleeding. Celes blinked in surprise. If her previous encounter with that bull-headed monk had told her anything, it was that magic was not so odd to these people. Still, it was disconcerting to see it used by such an unsuspecting woman. Celes wondered briefly if she had somehow found magicite, but the idea seemed unlikely. No one so far had shown any sign of familiarity with espers or magicite in this world. Perhaps the rules had changed here or this woman was a magus. Or perhaps Celes had just gone insane. Yes, that was still a possibility.

“Well, I’d reckon you’re in Porv—ah, Provo, from what I understand. Listen, I understand you just uh, took down quite a few of these suits, but you need to get outta here nice and fast before more of ‘dem come and start raising a ruckus.”

Ha! And she was giving advice. Celes laughed a little more despite herself -- or maybe at herself. Here was the great General Celes reduced to cowering on the side of the road. Here was the fearsome Magitek Knight, being healed and given instruction from what might very well have been a prostitute. Celes took a deep, shaking breath and ran a hand through her hair. The worst part was that this woman -- whoever she was -- was right. Celes needed to move. If she valued her life. Now that was the question, wasn't it?

The woman knelt beside her and cast more of her curative magic. Where had she gotten it from? “Now uh, lassie, this ain’t no time ta be sittin’ round and be waitin’ like you be doing there, come on now, don’t be a-givin’ up just yet.”

Embarrassing. Celes smirked a little at her own weakness. Had she given up again? Perhaps. Most of the blood on her hands was not her own. With her wounds healed (or mostly healed, the magic had been quite weak), she slowly raised to her feet. "Thank you," she told the woman. "I just..." She tried to search for the right words. "I needed a moment." That would do. Celes looked back behind her, towards sirens and more panic. She knelt down to pick up her discarded sword, and then sheathed it.

Then she realized that she did not know what to do next.

Should she leave the city and wander back into the wilderness? It wasn't as though she was unused to surviving on her own. Yes, perhaps the wild was the only place she could involve herself at the moment. But where had she come from and how would she get there? She didn't know a single thing about this city and all of the paved streets and towering buildings looked the same to her. It was for this reason that she looked to the women and almost sheepishly asked, "Do you know a place to hide?" Perhaps if she could collect her bearings she would be able to navigate for herself. A smirk caught at her lips as she looked up to the sky. "I need to get out of this place," she said, "I think I've made a mess for myself."

Yes, that was one word for it. Others being disaster and massacre. 'Well, at least that much feels like home,' she thought. She seemed to be running on some kind of defiance streak, and didn't know how to stop. 

Celes was not pursued immediately. Whoever these strange soldiers were, they did not appear to be overly organized. She escaped into the panic of the civilians as they fled from the sound of that strange weapon and Celes' magic alike. Terrified children dodged inside empty storefronts. Scandalized women closed windows and hid behind the shelter of walls. This chaos was more the environment that Celes had grown used to. In a strange way, it felt more like home to her than the idyllic fields and overgrown forests of this world. Even before the planet had turned to lawless waste, Celes had not been unused to inspiring awe and terror. As a general, she had led the siege on the city of Maranda. Back then, she had been led by a sense of nationalism and self-pride. She had acted as humanely as possible, given the guidelines of war. However, the incident had changed her. There was only so much death one could order before sleep came uneasily. This was not like that. 

With alarms blaring behind her and panic fleeing before her, Celes ran without any clear direction. Her boots tapped readily on uneven pavement. Her breaths came quickly. She kept one hand on her sword. She did not want to harm any more who might apprehend her, but if the choice came to lose her freedom, she would act without hesitation. She glanced behind her, peering into the shadowed streets for signs of pursuit. When she looked back in front of her, she didn't have time to slow down before she came barreling into a sea of pale hair. She gave a shout of surprise as bone smacked bone. Celes' legs tangled on this new obstacle and suddenly she was pitched forward towards hard ground. She skidded with a wince and a barely restrained curse as her hands were scraped into gravel. Behind her, there was an offended cry -- a woman's voice. 

“Who-ooo-a there!!”

Celes looked over to see a -- well, what she could only describe as a call girl. The woman appeared to be about Celes' age, but wore the kind of outfit that Celes had only seen on the dancing women of Zozo. Her pleated skirt tilted up to her hip where it met the lace of thigh-high leggings. Her hair was done up over the side of a ruffled bandanna. Her blouse was unbuttoned to the top of her waist-clenching bodice, and Celes swore that the woman would expose herself if she moved the wrong way. For a moment, it was all Celes could do to stare. She had certainly not expected to stumble into a woman like this. 

"I'm sorry," Celes said once she'd found her voice. She stood and brushed dirt off her cape and leotard with the back of her hands. Her palms were smeared in dirt and blood. She eyed them distastefully before calling on her dormant magic to heal them. "Cure," she muttered and allowed the magic to well in her wounds. Within seconds, the damage was undone. She glanced uneasily behind her towards approaching pandemonium. Soon, they would be upon her -- but not yet. "Can I...help you up?" Celes offered the woman hesitantly. Her hand itched towards her sword. She couldn't leave this city fast enough.

A long time ago, Celes would not have found anything so very special about the town of Provo. It was foreign to her, certainly. The people wore strange clothes (there seemed to be less scarves than she was used to), drove strange vehicles, and spoke into odd devices. There were some sectors that reminded her a little of Jidoor and others that could only remind her of Zozo. Still, this would not have been so much of a shock only two years prior. Back then, she might have accepted the inconsistencies with an uneasy smirk and a demand for answers.

But Celes was not the same woman she'd been two years ago, and to her, there was no greater miracle than a safe place to sleep for the night.

I've gone insane, she thought as she approached the town. Here, there were grasses, playing children, and buildings so tall she felt dizzy watching them. The town bled in from the countryside -- first a house here then a store there until she was suddenly surrounded by people, noises, and light. Her boots tapped hard against the road as she walked, and she suddenly felt as many stares on her as she provided to those she passed. These people wore strange fabrics and none of them carried swords. They also did not wear capes, and more than once, she caught someone pointing at hers. This was not a separation of countries, but of whole different worlds. These people had the casual look of those who had never known war. They proved more curious than suspicious and they did not eye her as though she might be some infiltrating spy. That was not to mention the lack of desperation or paranoia that she had already witnessed from Douken Sota. No, the trip here had given her enough time to come to terms with that. 

In this world, the people were not afraid. The clouds did not part to inflict sudden judgment from a mad god. The ground was not cracked; the water was clear. If Celes continued to speak of ruin to these people, she would look insane. As she very well might have been, but they didn't need to know that.

Out of desperation, Celes asked the townspeople to direct her towards somewhere to stay. They each seemed shocked as she approached them, then gained looks of sudden understanding, and finally pity. They gave her directions in the same tone that one might use with a lost child. One man seemed under the impression that she was some kind of low class prostitute. The suggestion had so shocked her that she could only sputter out a few words until his further insistence had driven her to her sword. "I'm a soldier!" she'd wanted to correct, but that wasn't right anymore, was it? She'd once been a general, then she was a survivor, and what was she now? Well, a strange woman who pulled swords on overly pushy civilians, for one. From his terrified expression, the man had clearly never seen combat. Several bystanders froze and watched her with wide eyes. Someone said he was going to call "the police." Celes scowled, sheathed her sword, and continued on her way. 

She was eventually directed towards an inn of some sort, though its features were unfamiliar to her. Everything from the make of the furniture to the use of lighting seemed somehow sleeker and brighter than she was used to. Even as the man at the counter blinked at her in confusion, she had no choice but to approach the man and awkwardly pull some leftover GP from her pocket. It wasn't much (Locke and Setzer had liked to handle the money for reasons she preferred not to ponder), but it occurred to her that the amount might not matter as she asked, "Do you take this?"

The man gave her a look of concern and then took one of the coins in his hand. His sudden frown told her the answer was no. "This isn't gil," he said.

"Gil?" she repeated. He sighed and there was that pity again.

"You're one of them," he said. Celes didn't have the chance to ask what he meant by that before he told her, "I have a spare room, if you want it. Just this once."

So she had come to surviving off the kindness of strangers. Celes didn't like it, but given her options (the other being sleeping outside where she might be assaulted), she took it all the same. The room itself was well-supplied and shockingly clean for someone who was used to living in wastelands. The bed was warm -- the pillows soft -- and she would have liked to have called it safe. Still, habit told her to check the window, under the bed, behind the door, and in the closet for intruders before she let down her guard. Closing her eyes, she would have liked to forget. In this place that felt so far away from the hell she knew, she would have liked not to have shifted and tossed as though certain that she was being watched. She would have liked to have had someone beside her to watch for assailants or to tell her if a part of the town had been obliterated in the night. Celes was alone, however, and had to deal with these matters herself. She slept with her sword beneath her pillow. Outside, she heard nothing but the calming lull of crickets.

The next morning, Celes left to wander the town without direction. She was lost, confused, and hadn't eaten for over a day and a half. Worse still, as she rounded another unfamiliar street corner, it seemed she'd caught the eye of someone more hostile than any curious civilian. He was an older man with graying hair and a wilting mustache. He straightened as she passed and spoke into one of their odd communication devices. Then he tagged along behind her, far enough away that any usual person might not notice. Celes was not usual, however. She had learned to study the environment for enemies and to recognize when she was being followed. She turned to face him before she could reach some easy place of ambush. She kept a hand on her sword. "Do you want something?" she asked as coolly as she could manage. The man jumped at her sudden attention. His hand strayed to something at his belt.

"I'm with the police. I need you to drop your weapon."

She eyed the something at his belt. It reminded her a little of Magitek technology or perhaps one of Edgar's tools. "Are you a soldier?" she demanded. 

"We've had reports of a woman in a cape and leotard threatening to stab people. I'm going to need you to come with me."

A look behind him confirmed her suspicions. More men were approaching, all carrying their odd weapons, all dressed the same. Her experiences had taught her to distrust guards and soldiers. She unsheathed her sword.

The man's eyes widened. He pulled that unfamiliar weapon from its holster and aimed it at her threateningly. "Freeze, or I'll shoot!" His voice wavered as though he were staring down a behemoth. Was there something about her that specifically terrified him? Behind him, the others did the same, all aiming their weapons at her. There were three of them in all.

Celes took a step back. A few years ago, she might have complied with their demands, but the world had changed -- she had changed -- and that was no longer an option. She held out her unarmed hand and brought the cold chill of magic to her fingertips.

The soldiers gave a shout of alarm. She heard a deafening noise like firaga and then her shoulder was struck by something hot and piercing. She felt the magic (her own and that of the espers) well inside her for protection. Without their defenses, the blow might have crippled her. With it, Celes merely winced and continued her spell. With a flash of light, her magic was cast. The air froze, the wind ran chill, and all four of them gave cries of pain as the heat was drained from their bodies. The attack caught the attention of every man, woman, and child in a three block radius. Civilians were running. There were shouts of alarm, cries of "Did you hear a gunshot?", followed by "What was that?" From distant streets she heard sounds that might have been alarms. From her experience, that sound would summon more soldiers and here she was -- out in the open, confused, and completely lost. 

With nowhere to go, Celes did the only thing she could do -- she ran.

He tried to joke with her. Given the situation, Celes didn't find it funny.

“Well, it would be hard to have a trade city if there was no one to trade with, now would there?”

Wrong, actually. The port city of Nikeah still operated as something of a trading center, even after most towns had fallen to ruin. Supplies still had to be transported and traded even after the end of society, after all. But that was neither here nor there. It wasn't the logistics of her delusions that Celes was most concerned about, and the joke seemed entirely ill-timed. She thought she might be sick.

“The people here are alive and without worry. I cannot say the same for you."

Why did the words pierce her like a knife? Delusion or not, is this not exactly what she had wanted? What everyone had dreamed of for over a year? This world, wherever she was, had never faced his wrath. The forests still grew. The water ran pure. The people were blissfully ignorant of what terrible destruction could befall them. Hadn't she wanted more than anything to go back? She would have taken the Empire without question over the hell her rebellion had caused. If only she hadn't spoken against the Emperor. If only she hadn't driven Kefka to the brink of suicide...

Perhaps her mind had created a place where that was true. This was what Celes had longed for. More than anything, she wanted a world at peace. But not like this.

“If it is too hard to talk about, I will not ask you any further, but what is your world like? Why is magic feared and you are worried about everyone being alive?”

She laughed again, disbelievingly this time. How was she to even begin explaining what was so basically understood? She could have started a thousand years ago with the War of the Magi. She could have explained how magic had nearly leveled the world, how the espers had locked themselves away for protection, and how the Empire had sought to use them to gain power. But it was the second part of his question that most unnerved her. Even now, it was completely unthinkable that someone might not have known -- that they didn't flinch in fear at his name. Even as the skies above her proved clear of his eye, she couldn't suppress the rising dread that it brought to mind.

"You're telling me that you've never heard of Ke-?" No. No, it was too much. With that name rose blinding light, the smell of burnt flesh, and a deep, hysterical laugh.

Celes winced. "He became a god," she said instead. "He killed the espers, absorbed all magic, and then-." The earth shook below her. Stone cracked, light faltered. Silence gave way to horrific rumbles as the ground itself crumbled. She took to the airship, but the forces were too strong. Wooden beams broke, and then there was screaming. The sky bled through with fire, and then she was falling. Falling into suffocating water. Falling and alone.

She sucked in air as though she were drowning. She gasped at it and grabbed at her spinning head. Her face felt hot -- her hands were shaking. She told herself not to think about such things, but she could still see them bright in the back of her mind. No one she knew would have faulted her for the panic she bit back now. Discussing that day among those who had survived it had become almost taboo. But this man was a stranger who knew nothing of the world's destruction. He would not understand. He would think her a weak, pitiable woman when she was nothing of the sort. No one was expected to deal with this kind of tragedy unmarked. It was the sign of greatest strength for one to simply move on.

Celes had already proven herself strong. She did need this pity -- not even in her own delusions. 

"I'm fine," she said. The words came out sharp -- almost accusing. She pushed away from the tree that had supported her and placed one hand on her sword. "I'm going to get out of this place. If you want to come, then fine -- you can lead the way. I'd like to go to this town you mentioned. It's no use staying here."

[[OOC: So, I think I gave Celes PTSD. I hope this is acceptable. I just kind of assume that anyone that survived that would probably have it. Oh well.]]