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In which there is old shit
Jul. 7th, 2012 01:09 amAuthor: Katezenstreu Gesicht
Date Written: May 18th, 2011
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia, albeit this takes place many years before.
Rating: PG.
Author's Notes: I remember writing this during my cycle of listening to too much Jekyll & Hyde, and finding so-small-you-have-to-squint-to-see parallels. As a result, this scene was born. This is also special to me as it helped me figure out in the process of writing it, a certain style that helps me shape scenes better. That is to say, write things in a script format first, then fill it in with lovely prose.
I will admit, I am semi-proud of this. Mostly because Symphonia will always hold the most special of places in my heart. And because I have an apparent thing for couples where one member is dead. Sorta.
Date Written: May 18th, 2011
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia, albeit this takes place many years before.
Rating: PG.
Author's Notes: I remember writing this during my cycle of listening to too much Jekyll & Hyde, and finding so-small-you-have-to-squint-to-see parallels. As a result, this scene was born. This is also special to me as it helped me figure out in the process of writing it, a certain style that helps me shape scenes better. That is to say, write things in a script format first, then fill it in with lovely prose.
I will admit, I am semi-proud of this. Mostly because Symphonia will always hold the most special of places in my heart. And because I have an apparent thing for couples where one member is dead. Sorta.
Night Before
In which Yuan and Martel make an escape from a party to a familiar snowy city, and talk of things.
“Aren’t you cold?” A voice, all kinds of familiar, caused her break free from her reminiscing and turn to see the owner. Unsurprisingly, it was whom she suspected and was delighted to see. A tall, strong blue-haired man with his usual stern expression, punctuated only by actual concern that she managed discern easily after all their time together. Yes, just the same as always, save for his clothes, which seemed much too stiff and fancy, even for him. Even for her, as she wore something similar in the stiffness and elegance that seemed too tight around the waist. But that, she reminded herself with a glance beyond him, was the fault of the festivities inside. All the dancing, drinking and joyfulness of a war finally passed with peace achieved.
She shook her head, and one of her hair ornaments made a quiet jingling at the movement. Such a bother. She wondered how the women of society handled it. “Not at all, Yuan,” she answered, taking in a breath of the night air. “Actually, the quiet is a relief-” she went on to say, only to be interrupted by the cheers from inside, probably the results of someone doing something frivolous under the pleasant buzz of food and drink. “Well, almost,” she added, with a laugh.
Without needing an invitation, he joined her on the balcony where she stood. After a pause of silence, in which he stared at the clock tower several avenues beyond them (he was doubting, now, which was correct; his pocket watch or this faithful scribe of time), he spoke. “The view is much more pleasant, also,” was his comment, which earned a giggle stifled behind Martel’s hand. “What?”
Promptly, she cleared her throat. “How so?” she asked, sobering all the more when she noted he was looking back at the city. But, she knew, he wasn’t actually seeing it.
“It’s strange,” he said, voice laced with the rough edge of bitterness, “being surrounded by people that now congratulate me and practically sing my praises, when before they wouldn’t so much as spare me a glance.” He had worked hard for his position; it wasn’t something blessed to him by birth or riches like some, no. He had stood out among all others, despite the slander and ridicule thrust on him because of the blood in his veins. And now for all that to change brought about natural suspicion that came to him over the years. “Part of me says I should be grateful, but another part knows-”
“Or thinks,” Martel was quick to interject, knowing the path this speech was taking. But her effort was in vain, as Yuan continued on.
“That they say otherwise, behind my back,” he concluded.
At this, Martel couldn’t help but raise a brow dubiously. “Yuan,” she said, slowly, and causing his head to turn to her voice. A few snowflakes that rested on his shoulder fell off due to his movement, not that either truly cared to notice. “What is it you’re trying to say?” She understood his skepticism, and accepted it, but there had to be something else beneath all this. Gnawing away at him, like a dog to a bone.
For better, or for worse, she didn’t have to wait long for an answer. “That, despite the treaty, this is far from over.”
The words cast a silence, heavy as metal sinking into the ocean, over them. The only disturbance to it being the sound of the party inside, slightly muffled by the frosted windowpanes and snow piling over them. After what seemed like a lifetime, a millennia, Martel could bear it no longer. She spoke, her voice quietly drifting between the two of them as she did. Gentle and soothing, like that of a woman whom had to be a mother for most of her life, but now used that same tone to sooth a worried lover. It came naturally for her.
“Yuan, I know this. In fact, I’ve known for quite a while that things wouldn’t end so quickly.” Or gracefully, for that matter. The world was full of people stubborn that were set in their ways. But were they not, too? They had pushed their own beliefs to bring about this result, so. “After all, we’ve our whole lives ahead of us. All of us,” she added, with another smile at the thought of their somewhat makeshift group. It was small, yes, but they were all close. And she prayed ever night this would always last. “Whatever the future brings, we’ll face it, as we always have. And we haven’t lost yet, no?” She questioned, her smile widening into a full grin that would someday give her laugh lines, she knew. But didn't care.
At length, all she said was met with an exasperated sigh. “Martel,” said Yuan, in what was the beginning of some sort of lecture, perhaps, “you don’t know the greed of mankind. The war is- was,” he quickly corrected himself. Oh, how long it had been they had warred. The sudden change to past tense was almost jarring, “horrible, but it was not without its gains for some. And, for that reason, not everyone is happy with the outcome.”
Martel was perfectly unperturbed, however, or at least showed no sign of otherwise. She only continued to stare at him, expectedly, with those glass green eyes of hers. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she prodded.
There was another bout of silence between them, before he finally answered her. “…No, we haven’t. But you’ll jinx us, at this rate,” he was quick to add, not keen on giving her a full victory so easily.
“And at this rate, all your cynicism will give you wrinkles,” she shot back, without missing a beat. There was a second sigh, and she reached over to lay her hand over his, glad of both the warmth from his hand and the chill from the silver band on his finger when exposed to the cold air. “Anyway, let’s go back inside. I’m sure everyone’s wondering where we are by now.” Yes, not only the guests, but her brother and Kratos as well. After all, this was a party in honor of all their efforts, so they must be curious.
As she moved away from him, her fingers tracing his knuckles a moment before, he couldn't help but make one final statement. “They’re likely spreading rumors as we speak,” he said, the slightest of teasing smirks on his face. Though, the sad part was how true this statement likely was. The plutocrats often had nothing better to do.
“All the more reason to hasten,” she said, as he followed after her.
