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runicloreWhoa, a Xenogears fic! Xeno needs to catch up with Suikoden and Valkyrie Profile, which are kicking its ass. Poor Xenogears. Since I don't have an icon for it yet, you get Sakura.
. . .
"I came from the mountains near Han, originally," Krelian said, shouldering aside a stubborn branch so his charge could pass. "A recent acquisition of the empire, you might know."
The little girl paused at the edge of the shade, twisting her pendant on its chain with both hands. She seemed unafraid to meet his gaze, even met him head on with the confidence of someone much older, with an unnerving stare he still hadn't grown used to. "What made you leave?" Her voice wasn't as bold as her eyes; she did look away when he came up even with her. "You must have a reason for..." Her glance at the sword was swift, but he caught it. "For what you've been doing here."
He shrugged and sheathed the blade with a snap. The sound made her jump, and a grim smile pulled at his lips that he hid by moving past her into the sunlight. It couldn't have been much later than ten or eleven in the morning, but the heat was already heavy, and the air dry. He was accustomed to the humid climate of the capitol, and before that, to the dry but ultimately cool climes of his home. His duty hadn't taken him this far east before. The desert stretched to the horizon beyond where he was standing, flat aside from the shallow contours of the dunes.
She had asked these questions before. Her first question, when it became clear to both of them that he couldn't raise his blade to her, was simply, 'Why?' - no more articulate, unless her sobs should be counted among the forms of eloquent conversation.
In the end she was still a child, no matter how many unnerving stares she subjected him to. A well-read, idealistic, and sickly child.
"Sophia." Krelian turned to speak with her directly though he was tempted to avoid her stare, his heel sinking into the sandy soil. It would make fighting awkward if they were caught. "Why did you let them manipulate you into leading their church?" He canted his head. "The Bishop was more afraid of his own mortality than he was worried about leading his congregation, don't you think? More afraid of losing his political pull in the capitol, and then suddenly you came up, and--" He spread his hands.
"No, I wasn't manipulated." Her serene neutrality was broken by her eyebrows drawing together and her hands suddenly gripping tightly to the trinket around her neck. "I just thought-- My mother thought--"
He watched her struggle with the words, still glaring up at him defiantly, and sighed. "Forget it. It's too soon to talk about this." He took her arm and pulled her into the sunlight, careful not to grip too tightly. She bruised more easily than anyone he'd met.
"Wait." Sophia pulled back and dug her feet into the sand until he stopped and glanced back, an eyebrow raised. "Why haven't you answered me? Why are you taking me out there?" She shook her head and pulled free. "Why are we even here?"
"Why didn't I take care of you like the others?" he asked rhetorically, giving up for the moment on continuing their journey. Why indeed. He'd seen his share of cherubic faces and penetrating gazes. Why? "Out there," Krelian said, sweeping his arm in an all-inclusive gesture, "is the federation of Avedi clans, whose loyalty to the king is questionable at the best of times. Their reception will be kinder to you than that of the court in Media. Their representatives were so very devout. I'm sure they'll be honored."
"I was told they were at war," she said softly. "And that they would not see my authority when I grow up."
"Hmm." He motioned for her to move back into the shade, and followed. "That may be a problem, yes. But they will respect your position initially, at least." It helped that she was too young to be subjected to other expectations, though looking at her, she had already outgrown most of her childhood, even if her outlook was relatively innocent. "It can't be helped. You won't be safe anywhere near civilization just yet."
"Nor will you." She stepped toward him with a determined set to her mouth. "Why?"
Stubborn little girl. She wasn't built to be intimidating, yet he wanted badly for the first moment to back a step or two away. If she maintained her determination when they met with the first of the clans, maybe they'd avoid some of the trouble he could foresee. They weren't known for their loyalty, as he'd said, but asking them to shelter a traitor and they prey the King sought might test even their animosity.
And there was always the chance they wouldn't care how young Sophia was, nor what her rank meant to her foundling religion.
"I told you I'm from the Han region." Krelian found a spot on the grass and sat down reluctantly. They needed as much of a lead as they could get, but he supposed it would be stupid to begin a journey across the desert at the height of day. "The King conquered it personally around the time I was born. There were a lot of problems in the changeover, or so I was told."
"There were clans up there." Sophia settled down on the grass and picked at her skirt. "I remember reading about them."
He nodded. "I belong to one of them. It doesn't really matter - I left for the capitol because that's what anybody who wanted to get ahead would do. And when I applied to the guard, they took one look at me and immediately put me in training for the elite corps. Can you guess why?"
Her fidgeting stopped. The dappled shadows shifted in a hint of a breeze, too brief to bring more than a breath of dusty air from the desert. Her hair shined golden almost like fire in the spots of light, and her pale dress glowed, though it was dusty and wrinkled from their journey. "You look very much like him," she finally said. "Like the king."
"But you've only met him once."
Her fringe hung low over her eyes, but he saw her glance up. "It's-- it's very apparent," she said. "I thought you were a relative."
"Not that I know of." Krelian shrugged, wincing at the tension in his shoulders. "But there are a lot of things I don't know."
Sophia remained silent. The palms shrouding their grove were aflutter with birds, rustling the fronds and calling loudly to their neighbors. Krelian shed his cloak and gauntlets and lay back in the grass to watch the mesmerizing shift of the canopy. There was no breeze that he could feel, yet the currents moved somewhere up there, out of his reach.
Their trek through the desert would be difficult, though still more forgiving than the blades of his comrades, should they catch up. He knew the map of the region well. That knowledge might not translate well into real distance, but he thought they had a good chance of reaching at least one of the springs the clans camped at during this time of year. He hoped for the Qurya, though the Fatima wouldn't be so bad, if they maintained their ties to the church.
He'd complained often about the politics of the capitol, but seeking refuge like this would only be trading one form of intrigue for another. He wanted to be optimistic, but he'd never cared for these games, and wasn't very good at playing them.
"We'll stay here until dusk," he said aloud, closing his eyes. "Then we'll collect whatever food we can find and go."
. . .
. . .
This is spawned from an idea I had a long time ago that would have traced the journey Krel and Sophia took between his attempted murder of her to the point when she returned to Nisan and claimed her title as Holy Mother. It would have been a long, detailed story, but I don't have the motivation to do that for Xenogears anymore. Now you get it in snippets of the important story points, or just whatever happens to come to mind when I'm stuck with a lot of undirected creative energy.
The food he plans to gather, by the by, would probably be dates. The implication of his heritage is entirely fabricated by me, because I thought it would be fun. (And it is.)
. . .
"I came from the mountains near Han, originally," Krelian said, shouldering aside a stubborn branch so his charge could pass. "A recent acquisition of the empire, you might know."
The little girl paused at the edge of the shade, twisting her pendant on its chain with both hands. She seemed unafraid to meet his gaze, even met him head on with the confidence of someone much older, with an unnerving stare he still hadn't grown used to. "What made you leave?" Her voice wasn't as bold as her eyes; she did look away when he came up even with her. "You must have a reason for..." Her glance at the sword was swift, but he caught it. "For what you've been doing here."
He shrugged and sheathed the blade with a snap. The sound made her jump, and a grim smile pulled at his lips that he hid by moving past her into the sunlight. It couldn't have been much later than ten or eleven in the morning, but the heat was already heavy, and the air dry. He was accustomed to the humid climate of the capitol, and before that, to the dry but ultimately cool climes of his home. His duty hadn't taken him this far east before. The desert stretched to the horizon beyond where he was standing, flat aside from the shallow contours of the dunes.
She had asked these questions before. Her first question, when it became clear to both of them that he couldn't raise his blade to her, was simply, 'Why?' - no more articulate, unless her sobs should be counted among the forms of eloquent conversation.
In the end she was still a child, no matter how many unnerving stares she subjected him to. A well-read, idealistic, and sickly child.
"Sophia." Krelian turned to speak with her directly though he was tempted to avoid her stare, his heel sinking into the sandy soil. It would make fighting awkward if they were caught. "Why did you let them manipulate you into leading their church?" He canted his head. "The Bishop was more afraid of his own mortality than he was worried about leading his congregation, don't you think? More afraid of losing his political pull in the capitol, and then suddenly you came up, and--" He spread his hands.
"No, I wasn't manipulated." Her serene neutrality was broken by her eyebrows drawing together and her hands suddenly gripping tightly to the trinket around her neck. "I just thought-- My mother thought--"
He watched her struggle with the words, still glaring up at him defiantly, and sighed. "Forget it. It's too soon to talk about this." He took her arm and pulled her into the sunlight, careful not to grip too tightly. She bruised more easily than anyone he'd met.
"Wait." Sophia pulled back and dug her feet into the sand until he stopped and glanced back, an eyebrow raised. "Why haven't you answered me? Why are you taking me out there?" She shook her head and pulled free. "Why are we even here?"
"Why didn't I take care of you like the others?" he asked rhetorically, giving up for the moment on continuing their journey. Why indeed. He'd seen his share of cherubic faces and penetrating gazes. Why? "Out there," Krelian said, sweeping his arm in an all-inclusive gesture, "is the federation of Avedi clans, whose loyalty to the king is questionable at the best of times. Their reception will be kinder to you than that of the court in Media. Their representatives were so very devout. I'm sure they'll be honored."
"I was told they were at war," she said softly. "And that they would not see my authority when I grow up."
"Hmm." He motioned for her to move back into the shade, and followed. "That may be a problem, yes. But they will respect your position initially, at least." It helped that she was too young to be subjected to other expectations, though looking at her, she had already outgrown most of her childhood, even if her outlook was relatively innocent. "It can't be helped. You won't be safe anywhere near civilization just yet."
"Nor will you." She stepped toward him with a determined set to her mouth. "Why?"
Stubborn little girl. She wasn't built to be intimidating, yet he wanted badly for the first moment to back a step or two away. If she maintained her determination when they met with the first of the clans, maybe they'd avoid some of the trouble he could foresee. They weren't known for their loyalty, as he'd said, but asking them to shelter a traitor and they prey the King sought might test even their animosity.
And there was always the chance they wouldn't care how young Sophia was, nor what her rank meant to her foundling religion.
"I told you I'm from the Han region." Krelian found a spot on the grass and sat down reluctantly. They needed as much of a lead as they could get, but he supposed it would be stupid to begin a journey across the desert at the height of day. "The King conquered it personally around the time I was born. There were a lot of problems in the changeover, or so I was told."
"There were clans up there." Sophia settled down on the grass and picked at her skirt. "I remember reading about them."
He nodded. "I belong to one of them. It doesn't really matter - I left for the capitol because that's what anybody who wanted to get ahead would do. And when I applied to the guard, they took one look at me and immediately put me in training for the elite corps. Can you guess why?"
Her fidgeting stopped. The dappled shadows shifted in a hint of a breeze, too brief to bring more than a breath of dusty air from the desert. Her hair shined golden almost like fire in the spots of light, and her pale dress glowed, though it was dusty and wrinkled from their journey. "You look very much like him," she finally said. "Like the king."
"But you've only met him once."
Her fringe hung low over her eyes, but he saw her glance up. "It's-- it's very apparent," she said. "I thought you were a relative."
"Not that I know of." Krelian shrugged, wincing at the tension in his shoulders. "But there are a lot of things I don't know."
Sophia remained silent. The palms shrouding their grove were aflutter with birds, rustling the fronds and calling loudly to their neighbors. Krelian shed his cloak and gauntlets and lay back in the grass to watch the mesmerizing shift of the canopy. There was no breeze that he could feel, yet the currents moved somewhere up there, out of his reach.
Their trek through the desert would be difficult, though still more forgiving than the blades of his comrades, should they catch up. He knew the map of the region well. That knowledge might not translate well into real distance, but he thought they had a good chance of reaching at least one of the springs the clans camped at during this time of year. He hoped for the Qurya, though the Fatima wouldn't be so bad, if they maintained their ties to the church.
He'd complained often about the politics of the capitol, but seeking refuge like this would only be trading one form of intrigue for another. He wanted to be optimistic, but he'd never cared for these games, and wasn't very good at playing them.
"We'll stay here until dusk," he said aloud, closing his eyes. "Then we'll collect whatever food we can find and go."
. . .
. . .
This is spawned from an idea I had a long time ago that would have traced the journey Krel and Sophia took between his attempted murder of her to the point when she returned to Nisan and claimed her title as Holy Mother. It would have been a long, detailed story, but I don't have the motivation to do that for Xenogears anymore. Now you get it in snippets of the important story points, or just whatever happens to come to mind when I'm stuck with a lot of undirected creative energy.
The food he plans to gather, by the by, would probably be dates. The implication of his heritage is entirely fabricated by me, because I thought it would be fun. (And it is.)